#cupid's last wish meme

[guzhufuren]

Cupid’s Last Wish + text posts

#cupid's last wish #cupids last wish #พินัยกรรมกามเทพ #earthmix #clw #clw edit #clw meme #cupid's last wish meme #cupid's last wish text post meme #cupid's last wish textpost meme #mix sahaphap #earth pirapat #win x korn #winkorn #clwedit #x text posts #mine #bl meme #usersquee #lextag #mjtag #sweetheart im not sure you are watching it but tagging just in case #i like this silly little show #how could i not when there are cows in it

[i-got-the-feels]

the Korn we want in life v/s the Korn we get

talking to @morathicain bought this meme in my head.

#kinnporsche #cupid's last wish #earth pirapat #kob songsit #thai bl #asian lgbtq dramas #Thai bl memes

[rouiyan]

𝘞𝘌’𝘙𝘌 𝘕𝘖𝘛 𝘙𝘌𝘈𝘓𝘓𝘠 𝘚𝘛𝘙𝘈𝘕𝘎𝘌𝘙𝘚 ; 𝘛𝘌𝘈𝘚𝘌𝘙 [ 𝘭.𝘮𝘬 ]

⧏ RELEASED — READ FULL FIC HERE ⧐

marks manages to land himself in a forty-two hour drive across the country with his archaeology major ex-girlfriend in the passenger seat. but for the duration of the whole ride, the only thing he can think about is that one twitter meme that states that “a majority of archeologists are women due to their natural ability to dig up the past.”

✧ photographer!mark lee x (fem.) archaeology major!reader ✧ exes to lovers, road trip au, referenced college au ✧ fluff/angst, hurt/comfort

✧ full fic w/c : 25.2k ✧ teaser w/c : 828 ✧ teaser disclaimers : food tw, knife tw, profanity

author's note — uhh.. well this is kinda awkward. i know i haven't posted content in a long ass time... sadly, this is by no means an official return to writing, but instead a piece that i've written on and off for over two years! now that i've been given a window of unoccupied time to finish it to my liking, i hope you look forward to it! i've missed you all btw

「 DAY 00, 01:42 PM 」— CUPID DABBLES IN BURNT TOAST

"oh, come on. i thought you were nicer than that!"

it's at times like these where mark is led to think that haechan only considers him as his very best friend for three things. his toaster, his car, and then of course, how easy it is to torment him.

he’s experienced enough to know that the guilt he feels is really only a direct result of haechan's guilt-tripping antics. and so he responds sarcastically, "yeah, nice enough to save a girl from a week of being in close proximity to the person she hates most in the world."

the toaster dings and haechan catches the two pieces of toast in their flight. he sticks one in his mouth, breaking off a bite, whilst turning to toss the other onto his friend's plate. chewing roughly, he leans back onto the counter opposite of mark, watching in contempt as the latter spreads jam across the burnt slice of bread.

haechan points a finger and juts it in his direction, offhandedly commenting, "i'm starting to think that it's you who hates her," a fact that both friends know isn't true. and because of that, mark doesn't make a big deal of denying it. "i don't hate her. i'm just..." he trails off and haechan takes the opportunity to craftily stage his intervention.

"not trying to make her uncomfortable?"

"yeah, i guess."

"not wanting her to hate you more?"

"there's that too."

"not over her?"

"hey, not cool."

a passage of silence elapses as mark sets the butter knife aside in exchange for his orange juice. gulping it down, he gets through two thirds of the glass before haechan perks up again. "actually, i think she still has a thing for you."

mark sputters, barely swallowing his drink before it could hurl out his disbelieving mouth. trying to smooth over his show of defiance, mark recovers a nonchalant expression as he deadpans, "there's no way. you know better than i do that she fucking hates me."

haechan takes another bite, aware but indifferent at how the crumbs have been gathering at his feet. his eyes trail absentmindedly to the clock on the wall behind mark, but only briefly for the hands are far past where he'd expected them to be. shoving the last of the toast into his mouth, he rushes to gather his belongings whilst uttering to his bewildered company, "shit, i'm gonna be late. pack it up."

obediently downing the rest of his orange juice, mark grabs his half-eaten, jam-slathered, burnt-to-a-crisp toast in one hand as the other reaches for his car keys on the way out. the unbearably hot sun of an early summer afternoon only hurries mark further along to his car, his wishes that he had worn shorts instead of jeans already too late to come true. but once both car doors have been shut and seat belts have been strapped, haechan carries on with his agenda without missing a beat.

"just give her the ride, mark. she'll keep you company and, i don't know, make sure you're not falling asleep at the wheel. and plus, she said she'll split the toll and gas fees."

mark shoves the last bite of toast into his mouth, the charred-ness of it procuring a nice crunch. even after he swallows, it takes him a second to respond. and though his answer is still far from budging, it sounds more like a justification, as if he needs convincing of his own opinion. "tell her it's cheaper to just catch a flight. and faster too."

exasperated, haechan retorts under his breath, "that's the same thing i told you," to which mark gives a raised brow, not catching what he said. instead of repeating, haechan only says, "just take her. you guys need to make up anyways."

that renders mark quiet for the rest of the ride as he tosses the thought over in his head. it's a thought that he knows he's been pushing away for far too long, hoping one day it'll become redundant enough to simply forget about. unknowingly, mark begins to speed a little, his turns become a little tighter, and when the traffic light signals red, the nose of his car is pulled daringly close to the car in front.

mark parallel parks shoddily in front of the archeology department building four minutes earlier than google maps had estimated. his best friend looks over at him expectantly and that in itself is enough to squeeze the reluctant words right out of him. "fine, i'll think about it."

haechan's face lights with a satisfied glow as he swings his backpack over his shoulder, making his way out of the car as quickly as he can. and just before mark can think to wish him good luck on his last exam of the spring semester, haechan blurts out the one crucial detail he had neglected to bring up until now.

"thank god, because i already told her you said yes."

copyright © 2023 rouiyan all rights reserved.

#nct x reader #mark lee x reader #mark lee #nct mark #mark x reader #mark lee scenarios #nct scenarios #nct fics #mark lee fluff

[neutron-stars-collision]

Deadlines & Commitments

Neil x F!Reader

Chapter 3 - Canning Town Underground Station

Masterlist; Chapter 2 Summary: Flirting, Leicester Square station mixtape, flowers and breakdowns in the cantina. Or another chapter of an unlikely liaison. Warnings: Swearing, E-rated language and imagery and more outrageous flirting. Author's Notes: Chapter a month might just be the new deal here, apologies. And this one's long, by which I mean over 11k 💁🏻‍♀️ It also seems like now that I've started, I can't stay away from Neil's POV so... yeah. Look out for a cheeky cameo too 😉 Other than that, I can assure you this is just as chaotic and ridiculous as the last chapter. These two are in full control, I'm just a mere scribe, doing my best. Hopefully it works. Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think? 💕 Taglist: @hollandorks, @kristevstewart, @stargirl25 (let me know if you want to be added)

Incorporating Neil into your daily (and weekly) life was easy. Almost terrifyingly so if you did as much as stop and think about it. Perhaps the self-preservation rooted deep within forbade you to reflect on it. Which, in hindsight, was a good thing.

After that first victory of obtaining Neil’s number, you did not hold back from texting and bombarding him with daily nonsensical memes that could have driven a different man to madness. Neil, however, took it in his stride. It was rare not to get a reply from him after longer than an hour. And that boosted your courage like nothing else.

Some days, the conversations went like this:

/ 🏹, 12:07 pm/ Show me what socks are you wearing.

/✝️, 12:13 pm/ Jesus, that’s forward.

/ 🏹, 12:14 pm/ That’s basically my second name. So?

/ 🏹, 12:14 pm/ I swear I won’t sell the pic on OF.

/✝️, 12:20 pm/ Well, if you do, then at least share the earnings with me.

Although you started the ridiculous conversation, when the next text came, consisting of a single image of a socked ankle bared by the familiar hand pulling up the pant leg, you nearly dropped the coffee cup in the middle of the Covent Garden. It was just an ordinary Tuesday lunchtime, with the square bustling with sound and movement. Using the rare sunny September day, you escaped the confines of the Royal Opera House to have your coffee break on the kerb. Thanks to the dwindling sense of coherence, you did not drop said coffee when you opened the photo. The socks you had asked for were black with a grey argyle pattern. But that was where the normalcy ended, for the rhombuses were filled with corgi heads. The brown-beige dogs stared at you through the screen with their beady eyes and were the reason for your hysterical laughter.

The overprotective mother tending to her children close by shot you a dirty look. Well, fuck her.

/ 🏹, 12:23 pm/ Neil, you’re too cute. Way too cute.

/✝️, 12:32 pm/ It’s what every guy wants to hear. Thanks, Cupid.

/ 🏹, 12:34 pm/ I never said you’re not hot, though. Which you very much are. So much that I thought of you when…

/✝️, 12:35 pm/ Yeah, don’t finish that sentence. Please.

/✝️, 12:35 pm/ I’d rather maintain my innocence.

/ 🏹, 12:36 pm/ As you wish 😘

That was not a lie. It was a result of yet another tiring day and an early night in bed when it was too early to sleep. So, you chose to fill the time like most women would, letting your thoughts drift to images and scenarios that always did the trick as your hand delved between your thighs. When you realised who you had been thinking of, the tension was so close to bursting that you did not try to shift the attention. When you came, the guilt was nowhere to be found.

After all, it was not a sin to think of pretty boys when taking the edge off. As soon as you realised that Neil did not take the flirty line seriously, that feeling of potentially having done something wrong became non-existent. It was fine. It was all fine.

Other times, especially during those Wednesday mornings on the Tube, your conversations looked more like this:

“I’ve got an invasive question…” changing the subject during your weekly chats was easy, for as soon as you set a weighty gaze on Neil, he sobered up too.

The endless questions did not seem to bother him either. Your boundless curiosity was particularly grateful for that.

“As long as you’re not going to ask me what underwear I’m wearing, I think we’re fine,” the poker face was only disturbed by Neil’s twitching lips, and the sparks danced in his eyes as he inclined his head in your direction, blessing you with the golden strands, “Shoot,”

Every time, you took a deep breath, silently gathering the courage to ask, and then let the question fall from your lips without a pause:

“When was the last time you’ve been in love?” the curiosity was all it was.

Yet still, Neil’s widening eyes made you consider that perhaps something else was underlining that desire to know. And that this question was different than others you had asked. Different from “Dogs or cats?” “Typical coffee order?” and “Any hidden talents?”. But it was too late to take it back.

“Oof, you weren’t joking” Neil seemed to shake it off quickly, only briefly offering you a glare before looking down to find the needed words, “Probably two-ish years ago…?” you were sure you had imagined the broken edge in his voice as Neil swallowed hard and continued “It was a disaster. She didn’t- Let’s just say I went in too hard and too fast, and she got scared. Pretty much ghosted me after a half-assed excuse” when he raised his head and meet your gaze, you could see the depths of hurt in his eyes.

Your heart felt pathetically hollow, but you smothered the feeling to nothing but an uncomfortable sting.

“Ouch,” a wince was easy enough to muster, and you followed it with an apology, “Sorry,” Neil’s crestfallen look was an inspiration for you to place your hand on his shoulder and give him a reassuring squeeze “I know that it doesn’t help, but it’s her, not you” you knew the light statement was the right way to go when Neil cracked a wry smile and gave your other wrist a tap.

“Thanks,” it was evident enough to realise that Neil was eager to drop the subject. It was clearer still that you were going to be the next target, “I won’t ask you the same since I know better, but… Do you really think no one could change your view on love?” yet when the question fell in the space between you, it was not what you had expected.

The surprise must have painted on your face, for Neil looked a second away from taking it back. You stopped him from doing that the only way you could think of – by extending your hand in what was universally thought of as a ‘hold up’ motion. It was not that you did not want to answer. And it was not the first time someone had asked either.

But it was not something you were keen on inspecting and tearing apart to offer an honest answer. It was a fact, pure and simple. A fact that you would believe in till the day you died. There was no place for love in your life, and there would never be. Full stop.

“Yeah, I do,” you met Neil’s waiting gaze and offered him a weak shrug. The strange disappointment in his gaze made no sense, so you chose to ignore it to shift your attention to the world outside the carriage as it arrived at the next station. The belief in your next words was as tangible as anything else you could conceive, “It would take a miracle”.

He did not ask that question again.

Those Wednesday morning conversations also became a source of information, which you had stowed securely in the compartment of your brain labelled ‘Neil’. After almost two months of acquittance, you knew that he was born and raised a Londoner (from Richmond, the posh fuck [affectionate]), was decidedly a dog person and had a chocolate Labrador growing up (a girl named Daisy), listened to alt-rock and 80s music and was what he described as a hopeless romantic. You still did not know what he did for work, only that he was decidedly not a tattooist, literary agent, paramedic, jockey, art critic, dressmaker, choreographer, or bus driver. Whether he was truly not just a priest undercover was still up for debate.

***

Only when you fled the confines of the ordinary tiny London flat kitchen and felt the night breeze of the city on your skin, left bare from the jacket you did not yet put on, had the question of the ages pop into your head. What the fuck? There was no answer. You shook your head against the memories of what had just conspired and stopped on the pavement to put on and fasten the jacket. Even annoyed, you could still feel the biting cold begin to settle in your bones.

You never expected to bump into Liam. Never in a million years would you have considered that those two friends you shared would extend the invitation to that man out of all people. And you certainly did not expect him to come.

Although, as he had unhelpfully explained himself, he only showed up because of the chance you would be there. The audacity made you shake your head vehemently, without a doubt attracting a glare or two from those who remained sober at this hour. In Soho on Saturday night, that was unlikely.

You walked through the cobbled streets with the neon lights lighting your path without an aim or a map. The only objective was to stomp the frustration into the cracked pavement and end up home. Somehow. Specifics were to be determined later.

Sure, rushing out of your mate’s flat like a lightning bolt could be seen as impulsive. But Liam offered you no choice. The pleasant buzz of alcohol did nothing to stop the embarrassment, which grew worse by the minute. The long walk in an unknown direction was a sad but acceptable consequence. Or so you aimed to maintain.

By the time you had seriously begun to consider using the dwindling phone battery to order an Uber and save you from the penance of someone else’s transgressions, the red circle with a navy blue bar appeared on the horizon. Salvation, at last. You picked up the pace, eager to get out of the cold and that one step closer to home. This close to Leicester Square and the theatres just having closed their doors on the last patrons, the bustle seemed quieter somehow, more subdued. It was a blessing for your budding headache and a threat to the thoughts eager to appear with nothing suppressing them.

You crossed the road and descended the staircase with a sigh. The heat of the station enveloped you like a hug as you passed the ticketing gates and spent an unnecessarily long time staring at the Tube map. When the logic kicked in, at last, you rushed over to the correct platform.

Only to regret it as soon as the timing screen came into view. Heathrow Airport 25 mins. The polite PSA text below informed you the line was experiencing delays. No biggie. They were sorry. The usual shit. A curse litany lodged in your throat as your eyes roamed over the platform.

All the noise in your head faded to nothing when your gaze settled on that familiar blonde head of hair. He was sitting in one of the few chairs with his head bowed over his knees in a position so exemplary for a Saturday night in the glorious London town. You skimmed over his body, taking note of the casual jeans and a t-shirt, peeking from beneath the unbuttoned jacket.

Before you knew it, your legs had started carrying you in his direction, a goofy smile present on your face. The improbability of it happening made everything easier. Because what were the odds?

Instead of counting them, you approached Neil, still so blissfully unaware of your presence and delivered an opening line:

“Hello, Father,” the joke did not yet get old, and you still got the kick out of it.

Especially when Neil raised his head fast enough to give himself a whiplash and gasped from shock.

“Jesus- Oh, what the fuck?” clutching at his heaving chest with all the drama he could muster, Neil offered you a look so full of surprise you knew he did not expect this to happen either.

The only weekend plans you had discussed over texts were that you had a party to go to, and he was likely to go out with his workmates at some point. But that was it. Zero specifics, no need to share them because there was no need for either of you to know the details. And yet.

“Is that how you should greet a lady?” playing on his theatrical reaction, you feign a shocked expression.

It was clear you would fail at any attempts of annoyance. Your cheeks were already aching with that kind of wide, manic grin only Neil seemed to cause. You could see his eyes skim over your figure, taking in your clothes with that sort of precision only he seemed capable of. Finally, satisfied with what he saw, Neil raised his head to meet your gaze again and got up to bow lowly at your feet:

“Apologies, m’lady,” before you knew what he was doing, he took hold of your hand and kissed your knuckles. A move so fast you almost thought you had imagined it if not for the fading sensation of his lips still ghosting your skin, “What are you doing here?” with his hand lightly touching your elbow, Neil steered you towards the seats.

Only now, with the surprises fading into the background, you took note of the empty platform. It was just the two of you sitting on the creaky plastic chairs. You shifted an inch closer to Neil, seeking the warmth radiating off his body and replied:

“As I’ve mentioned, I had an invitation to this flat party in Soho… And I went, but then, and you’ll never believe that happened-” recounting the improbable story felt good, and you took pleasure in the attention Neil gave your every word.

“Let me guess… Liam showed up?” his interjection followed your dramatic pause flawlessly.

Of course, he got it. Of course, he guessed. You shook your head at his eager smile, aware of the glee in your eyes:

“Damn, you’re good” your low approving whistle reverberated in the space. Most shockingly, there was a certain level of joy in sharing the story, even as your skin crawled with the embarrassment of what transpired, “Yeah, and it turns out that getting blocked did not make him smarter. It became a whole thing, along with him getting down on his knees in the middle of a kitchen and proclaiming his undying love to me,” you wondered if Liam was still there, kneeling on the tiled floor and waiting for your return.

Partially, you hoped that was the case.

Throwing you out of the strange ruminations, Neil shook his head and offered you a serious look:

“Blimey,” his tsk almost got lost in the PA announcement, crackling from the speakers. When it ended, Neil met your gaze with a sympathetic smile, “No wonder you ran away,” his knee nudged yours, triggering something you would not understand even in months.

Sitting upright, you nodded fervently:

“I had to” the emotions you did not know were present poured out from your lips as the next words fell in the space between you, “And like- He doesn’t even know me? He never saw me on the stage, and he thinks that making me cum a couple of times is enough?” a frustrated growl tore from your chest as you finished the tirade with a tired sigh and simple punchline, “Bullshit,”

There was no time or willingness to take apart where all that anger came from or why it was suddenly so important Neil understood your reasons. It just was. Later it was easily blamed on the alcohol still present in your veins. For now, you met his gaze and shrugged, answering the questions he seemed too shy to ask.

“With that, I must agree. It’s bullshit” nudging you with his shoulder, Neil smiled, brightening the clouds that still seemed to hang over your mind.

You shot him a brilliant grin, brushing away the concerns with terrifying ease. They had to wait, ideally forever.

“Thanks, babe” sugar coated your smile as you allowed yourself to gaze, taking note of the blush spreading on his cheeks. Although you would never admit it out loud, the blue of his eyes was slowly becoming your favourite shade of the colour. It was that thought that triggered your next confession, “Admittedly, meeting you here is a highlight of the night,” you watched as his eyes grew wider, evidently not expecting to hear something that honest. The moment stretched for what felt like ages until you found the strength to look away, focusing on the timing screen and the issues it posed, “Though, those delays are bullshit, too” your eye-roll elicited an instant laugh, which only added warmth to the kindling sparks in your chest.

“Mhmm,” Neil’s hum acted like an anchor, tying you to reality.

It was a better place to get lost in than the chaos raging in your head. You chose to stick by it, following the easy way out with a simple question:

“How come you’re here?” you turned towards Neil, hoping to block the platform and the world beyond from view.

Even if just figuratively and for a short while. If the answering bright smile was anything to go by, Neil was happy to humour you:

“I’ve been out for drinks at a pub, but then our crowd isn’t very… boisterous, so we all went our separate ways, and here I am,” he signed off the summary with an explanatory shrug, but you should have kept your guard up. Once his gaze settled on you with an intensity of intent, a pathetic instinct kickstarted your heart with all the subtlety of trainwreck, “Bored as fuck until you’ve shown up” the joy in that simple sentiment was enough to make your cheeks heat up.

Of its own volition, your brain provided the fresh memory of how Liam’s attention in that cursed kitchen had made you feel. How running away was the only option you saw then. It was different now; the quiet focus of the man sitting next to you was a welcomed change. A company you were happy to keep. For however long you were allowed.

“How long do you think till it’s-” ignoring the shyness that did not seem happy to be buried in Neil’s company, you changed the subject with all the grace of an elephant.

It was evident in how you stuttered, quickly abandoning the idea of finishing the sentence and letting it trail off into the quiet. It was too early to raise your head from the depths of shame it was drowning in. It was all a little too much.

“Could be twenty minutes, could be an hour… or never,” Neil’s voice gained a cheeky edge as if conscious of your minor crisis and happy to offer a distraction.

You risked a peek at his face, finding the signature smirk gracing his face. That expression never failed to feel like a sharpened knife piercing through the walls of your uncertainty. It complimented his face too well, dragging the attention to Neil’s sharp features and his remarkable eyes that always felt like they could see right through your bullshit and the pretending. It was terrifying.

It was then, in the light of his frightening beauty, that you decided what to do next. What was necessary to keep you (moderately) sane. One look at your tote bag lying on your lap offered inspiration:

“Fab,” your dry comment elicited Neil’s laugh and sealed the deal on what you wanted to do next. There was no backing out. You straightened your spine and swivelled on the seat to face him fully. When your knees touched him, Neil’s eyes widened almost comically. But that was only the beginning of the wild ride for him, you were sure of it, “Well, then… Dance with me,” the delivery of that line required a special nonchalance.

One that required you to hold Neil’s gaze long after you had finished speaking, and the words had only just dawned on him. Once they did, his eyes got comically large, and his lips parted on what could only be a mute expression of horror. A giggle got trapped in your throat, but you fought valiantly against it. For now.

“Pardon?” Neil’s choked-out question came after sequenced opening and closing his mouth with nothing coming up.

Your poker face was tearing at the seams. Foolishly.

“Dance with me, Neil,” repeating the request (order?), you extended your hand towards him, signing off the invitation for what it was.

The shock was still present on his face. Despite that, Neil slipped his palm, warm and fitting perfectly, into yours. You could tell that it was not entirely conscious on his part.

You sure did not mind it, though.

“I might have had a drink or two, but I didn’t think I was drunk enough to be hearing things,” Neil’s incredulity bled into his tone as he stared you down as if hoping the sheer disbelief would be enough to deter you.

Tough luck.

“Come on,” squeezing his hand, you switched the tactic with a question, “What’s the worst thing that can happen?” there was no judgment in your gaze, and you hoped Neil knew that.

If asked, you could not explain why that was something you wanted to do with him, there and then of all places. But it still felt important. Urgent, even.

The no-bullshit look you got in return almost made you burst into laughter.

“You’ll see me dance,” Neil deadpanned as if it was clear.

As if that was the peak horror that could befall him at your hands. Using the lifeline of your joined palms, you rubbed your thumb over the tender skin of his hand, hoping to let that act as a reassurance. That was a nonsensical fear to have.

Who gave you, a mediocre ballerina, the right to judge? Absolutely no one.

“And?” you offered Neil a brilliant grin, doing your best not to think about how right it felt to have his hand resting in yours.

That question seemed to catch his attention, pulling him back from the precipice of self-doubt. You watched as Neil pondered the answer, staring at you with that bright-eyed, anxious expression, complete with his teeth nibbling on his lower lip. He picked at the worried, fragile skin, and you did not think about soothing the damage with your tongue. Not at all.

“I don’t know… You’ll leave and block me?” when he finally found a plausible answer, it was the last thing you expected Neil to say.

Despite the seriousness on his face, you could not hold back the laugh that spilt from your lips. What an idiot [affectionate]. The adorable pout in his bottom lip was responsible for the recklessness you chose to implement.

Without thinking about it too much, you leaned in and used your free hand to cup his face, eradicating the remains of the gap between you. As your thumb brushed over his cheekbone, Neil gasped, barely disguising the sound with a cough. The grin spread over your face as you spoke:

“It takes a little more than that for me to block you,” that was true; you could barely fathom blocking Neil, least of all because of such a trivial reason. It was only after a beat that the second meaning of what he said sunk in. The meaning you expected Neil did not exactly consider slipping out like that. You grabbed it with both hands and a knowing smile, “Also… you enjoy talking to me that much?”

The jackpot shot came with a furious blush on his cheeks and an embarrassed scoff as Neil turned away from your watchful gaze. Your hands stayed linked. That, too, was an adorable reaction. It made that pleasant warmth in your chest burner brighter, though you refused to inspect it too closely.

Before you could consider pushing him for a reply further, Neil jumped up from the creaky seat and pulled you to standing using your tight handhold. The fake pep was visible from miles away, especially in that manic grin that almost seemed too wide on his face. But you did not have the time to question it.

“Okay, let’s just dance,” Neil tugged at your hand impatiently.

He did not seem capable of standing still, hopping from one leg to another. If that was a sign of what was coming, you knew you were not ready. Your eyes narrowed in what you hoped was a mildly threatening look:

“That’s a deflection tactic,” still, you took a step closer to him, finally putting that handhold to use.

“Yes, it is,” Neil nodded as his arms opened in a shrug.

That was your answer. You could only cement it with a smile as you allowed him to pull you closer, almost into his open arms, except-

“Wait, we need music,” remembering that crucial missing piece, you let go of his hand and darted back to the tote abandoned by the seats.

“No shit,” Neil’s dry comment was accompanied by the scuffling of his shoes over the cracked tiles.

You grinned, triumphantly holding out the speaker you had fished from the bag. That was the only pro you could think of that came from your earlier practice, and no time in between that and the disastrous party.

“Lucky for you, I came prepared,” you showcased it like a spoil of war and turned the speaker on, awaiting the sound confirming it had connected to your phone. When it came, you ceremoniously placed the device on the vacated seat and pressed play on your phone. Only once the music was playing, you turned back towards Neil with a flourish, “Voila,”

It took him an additional second to identify the song, the synthesizer filling the empty platform with a special kind of vibe. When the proper beat kicked in, you started shimmying your hips and shoulders to the rhythm, awaiting Neil’s reaction. You were not disappointed when he gaped at you with joy barely disguised underneath a frown:

“Really?” still, his foot started tapping with the singer’s voice.

Shrugging, you spun around him, feeling the music fill your body like it always did. You always felt the most alive when dancing. When your feet were following the choreography, and head was deliciously empty of everything but the musical notes and lyrics.

When you stopped to meet Neil’s gaze, you found him staring back in awe.

“What? It’s not me; it’s the holy spirit of the shuffle,” the song started heading towards the chorus, so you added the hand movements, orbiting around Neil and hoping to pull him along, “Can’t argue with it,”

‘Don't. Don't you want me?

You know I can't believe it when I hear that you won't see me

Don't. Don't you want me?

You know I don't believe you when you say that you don't need me’

It was an all-time favourite. A bop you did not have the heart to resist whenever it came on. Now was not any different. Your lips started whispering the words as your body moved through the space, overcome with the feeling of dancing. At that moment, you were grateful for the sensible footwear your past self had chosen that morning. Sure, dancing in high heels was possible, but the Converse made for a much better choice. They slid along the cracked tiles without resistance, allowing you to double the efforts.

It did not matter that you had an audience. Or that it was a particularly attentive one, for you never once felt Neil look away. He was still staring, standing almost stock-still, save for how his feet tapped out the beat. That had to change.

‘Don't you want me, baby?

Don't you want me? Oh!’

You stopped, chest heaving and limbs still too giddy with the effort. You met Neil’s unwavering gaze over the space and mouthed the chorus, aware of the interpretations he could easily reach. That was fine, nothing you were opposed to. In a way, him noticing half your actions did have a tentative hope behind them would have saved you time. And words. But that was a thought for another time.

Once you heard the female vocals come in, you reached out towards him, yet again presenting Neil with your open hand. Yet again, he did not hesitate, letting you pull him close. When the distance had been eradicated, Neil placed his hand on your waist with an experimental level of timidity. As if he was still fully expecting the move to backfire. Silly goose. Your hand ventured up his chest to his shoulder as you steeled your frame into what was expected of ballroom dancing. The habits were hard to shake off, after all.

Despite the booming synthesizers and grooving rhythm, you let him lead you into a slow dance. With each step, Neil’s confidence seemed to grow, for his grip became firmer as he splayed his hand over the small of your back and pulled you closer. It did not matter that his technique would bring your snobbish teachers from ballet study to tears. What mattered was that you felt safe within his embrace, never shying away from Neil’s gaze as it stayed trained on your face. What also mattered was that the genuine smile was fixed on your face. Especially when the song was slowly ending, and Neil was not letting go. What a novelty that was. You worried that once you tasted it, it would be impossible to let go. To forget this careless feeling, encapsulated within a simple, tender hold and open, beautiful eyes.

“That was hardly a song for slow dancing,” when Neil spoke, the remark came upon a hesitant smile, so at odds with how sure his hand was within yours.

“We made do, didn’t we?” you could only offer him a smile, aware of the wobbly edges of your voice and the yearning of your treacherous heart.

Even with years of practice, it sometimes wanted what it could not get. Affection, namely. Or the tenderness that meant something, rather than the mindless touch of a loveless fuck. You hoped one day those two would disappear, leaving you perfectly satisfied with what you had.

As if aware of your dangerous thoughts, the song switch came at a perfect moment. The last beats of The Human League died down, replaced with an equally cheesy rhythm. If not worse. Neil’s reaction was instant. He stopped dancing abruptly, making you nearly miss stepping on his foot. Your eyes darted to his face as curiosity soared in your chest. The barely masked joy you found there only made that warmth in your heart feel like tongues of fire. You disentangled from the embrace to place your hand on his chest and push him back lightly:

“Come on, pretty boy. Show me what you’ve got,” you completed the encouragement with a wink and stepped back to give him space.

The hesitation stage lasted much less this time. Neil stared at you, evidently weighing the pros and cons of giving in, but as soon as Falco opened the song with the lines in German, he had made up his mind. It was your turn to be dumbfounded as you watched Neil thrash to the music, almost keeping up with the beat. He slid across the tiles, barely managing not to slip as Falco went on about Mozart and his flair.

‘Er war ein Virtuose, war ein Rockidol

Und alles rief: Come on and rock me Amadeus’

It was easy to say Neil got lost in the music as his lean body twisted and turned, claiming the space he was allowed to occupy. There was grace in his movement, as well as carelessness, perfectly balancing the dance into an ideal mixture. A rare spark of envy kindled in your chest as you did your best to ignore the question of what it must feel like to be this free. During the poor attempt at moonwalking as he circled you, you could no longer hold back the laugh. Neil’s hands weaved through the air as he threw his head back to shout the hook along with the singer. With each call of Amadeus’ name, the affection in your chest grew, becoming increasingly lethal. A show of that kind displayed not only his trust but also what kind of a man Neil could be if he got rid of his shyness and inhibitions. It was something you doubt you could ever forget.

And that could be a problem.

When the song drew to a close, and Neil’s heaving breaths alerted you that he was probably worn out with exertion, he stopped. The reverberating beats sunk into the background as you met his gaze, aware of the silly softness you could not eradicate from your eyes. Neil looked manic, his pupils dilated and irises sparkling. He was breathing hard, the exhaustion making him shrug off the jean jacket with impatience, so far that Neil did not bat an eyelid when the article landed on the dirty floor. The reveal of an old, worn-out t-shirt underneath that hugged his broad shoulders and biceps just right made your jaw fall slack.

That, too, could be a problem.

Despite the common sense screaming at you to look away, you stared on, aware of Neil gazing right back. A wiser person would have shaken awake in time to switch off the music and call this quits before any further damage could be done. But you were never the wiser person.

You looked on as the song switched into a different era of music, and gentle, cheesy chords of piano and percussion filled the platform with a ballad almost everyone knew. Neil was not any different. You noticed the change in his eyes, switching from playfulness to mild seriousness. As if he, too, knew your fates were being decided at that exact moment.

However, the results of those decisions would not be noticeable until much later.

Using Elvis’ crooning as a backup to help drown your thoughts, you reached out your hand towards Neil, repeating the invitation. It was up to him whether he wanted to take it. Just like everything else in your friendship. The eager hope was hard to nip in the bud. It itched and ached until you could hardly stand still, awaiting the sentencing for what felt like hours. At last, Neil closed the gap and took your proffered hand with an impassive look.

The second time bore all the experience of the first, making it easier to fall in place without hesitation. Neil clasped your hand in his and let his other arm wind around your waist, pulling you close. Much closer than before. Your hand found its way to his shoulder, curious fingers stroking the expanse of his neck, revealed by the t-shirt collar. You did your best not to notice the goosebumps rising on his skin. It was impossible to tell which of you moved first, leading into the gentle sway. Only once you started waltzing around the empty platform, it was impossible to stop.

‘Would it be a sin

If I can't help falling in love with you?’

Halfway through the song, you tilted your head back from where your gaze had been trained on the expanse of his chest and met Neil’s waiting gaze. The shock passing through your system felt like a fatal blow. There was no denying the fact that this was a first. The first time you had ever danced like that with someone, motivated by nothing else but the desire to do it. There was also no denying the fact Neil’s watchful eyes and the soft strokes of his fingers, running along the expanse of your waist down to your hip, felt like nothing else you could have ever experienced before or after. It was well past your usual flirty chats and casual innuendos. Well past the daily playfulness of whatever it was blooming between you. It was well past the worn-out tracks and lived-in spaces.

Absolutely fucking terrifying.

‘Take my hand,

Take my whole life, too

For I can't help falling in love with you

For I can't help falling in love with you’

It was impossible to say what had tipped the scales right then. Whether it was the song lyrics, drawing attention to all those things you would rather ignore till the end of time or the unwavering eye contact you had maintained as you spun across the space with grace that had not been there previously. Or whether it was due to how Neil held you steadily, all the while allowing himself to stare, eyes roaming over your face in a meticulous study. But perhaps it was just a trick of fate, a sudden loss of reason and logic that made you tip forward and give in to the gravitational pull of his orbit. Perhaps Neil was guilty of the same thing.

Before you knew what had failed and why, you were close enough to feel the gasp of his breath fan across your face. The air ghosted your lips as your nose brushed against Neil’s, and the time slowed to a crawling speed. There was no denying the fact that you wanted it. The want hummed underneath your skin and made it hard to think clearly.

You only knew that Neil closed his eyes, and his sharp intake of breath hit your lips, making you tilt forward. Making it oh so easy to let go and-

“This is Piccadilly Line service towards the Heathrow Airport,” the PA system crackled to life, forcing you to separate as if burned.

You blinked awake, barely noticing the train slowing at the platform and the music still playing from your speaker. One glance at Neil told you all feelings were very much mutual. It was a close call. So close you could almost feel the kiss that never happened. An uncertain smile played upon your lips as you turned off the music and jumped aboard the train. You could only hope the King of the Rock’N’Roll himself was wrong about this one.

***

It was a well-known truth that a pretty boy could make you a little stupid. Stupid enough to do things that, under normal circumstances, would be off the table. But all it took was a flash of blue eyes and a charming smile, and boom, logic gone, reason decimated. Usually, there was a price to pay for that.

But the potential costs meant nothing in the face of the revelations the Saturday night brought. Namely, the kiss that never happened but you could easily dream of. Which you did, just to brighten up the restless sleep. Needless to say, that night unlocked some things. Things that perhaps were best left untouched. But hindsight was a gift you did not yet possess.

Instead, you battled with a single idea that was difficult to eradicate. Sure, that night, or how it had almost ended, was never mentioned again. As early as the next day Neil reached out to you and set the tone you were happy to follow. But the memory remained, nagging at your brain for a week and not once letting go. It was a seed that planted another thought. The thought that nothing was preventing you from reaching out for more. That there was no script to follow with Neil. That idea was like a brainworm making a home inside your skull.

Because, yes, you were known to be a little stupid for attractive boys. And Neil was potentially the most beautiful man you have ever met. That proved to be a problem.

Exactly a week after that Saturday, you caved in. The autumn breeze was hitting your face and tangling your hair as you stared at the Thames. There was no better place to start a catastrophic chain of events than the Blackfriars Bridge. Or so you told yourself. You took out the phone to stare at the messages and opened the text conversation with Neil. It took an additional fortifying breath to start typing out the proposition and start the exchange.

/ 🏹, 5:39 pm/ So, I figured, since we already broke the rules on our hangouts last Saturday

/ 🏹, 5:40 pm/ Would you like to grab coffee tomorrow?

/✝️, 5:45 pm/ That’s unexpected.

/✝️, 5:45 pm/ Why the sudden change of heart?

/ 🏹, 5:46 pm/ I liked your moves.

/✝️, 5:47 pm/ I’m pretty sure no one’s ever said that to me.

/ 🏹, 5:49 pm/ Maybe they just weren’t looking. I knew I was.

/✝️, 5:51 pm/ Okay, yeah. I’d like that.

/✝️, 5:52 pm/ Any labels I should be aware of?

/ 🏹, 5:52 pm/ Nah, fuck the labels.

/ 🏹, 5:53 pm/ Unless you want to bring me flowers. Then let’s call it a date.

/✝️, 5:55 pm/ Then it’s a date 😘

You stared at the phone long after the screen went dark. Along with the buzzing joy and anticipation of what tomorrow would bring, there was also an eternal question. The question you had avoided pretty damn well so far. What the fuck have you done?

***

By the time you were meeting Neil in a café (chosen because of its perfect location between St. John’s Wood and Swiss Cottage), those nerves of anticipation had transformed into anxiety. The worst was that you did not even know what you were so nervous about. A date (that was not really a date) was nothing new. You have done it many times before, usually to great results. But suddenly, when Neil was inserted into the equation, all that you got was uncertainty. And a strong fear of fucking it up. It did not make for a good mix.

Part of it dissipated once you turned the street corner and saw him waiting in front of the café, a bouquet in hand, despite your line being nothing more than a throwaway joke. An affectionate smile was impossible to get rid of no matter how hard you may have tried. It stayed as you closed the remaining distance and met Neil’s gaze. Then it got transformed into a stupid grin as your eyes scanned him head to toe (hair just as messy as always, leather and jeans completed with sneakers – in other words: fucking hot). Once that foolery was complete, you could shift your attention to the flowers, now held out in your direction like a sheepish offering.

It was a colourful bouquet of wildflowers, freshly bloomed and coming from a florist rather than Sainsbury’s. The thoughtfulness was enough to make you blush. Before you could delve into an embarrassing attempt at cover-up, Neil broke the silence:

“You haven’t specified what kind of flowers,” his shyness was easily seen from the fidgeting hands and eyes unwilling to stay on your face longer than necessary.

That was your cue to get yourself together and accept the bouquet with a courtesy. That, too, was just a trick to drag that shy smile onto his face. It worked.

“Those are perfect, thank you,” with another smile, you turned towards the entrance and went in as Neil held the door. It was a cosy café with only a few tables and a bar-service ordering. You motioned towards the smiling server behind the counter with a question, “Wanna go order coffee?”

You did not expect in response to your innocent ask for Neil to come to a strange stand-still in the middle of the entryway and measure you with a look that spoke volumes about him having something to say and no way of expressing it. You raised your eyebrow, urging the words to come out and save you from death by perplexation.

After a beat, Neil seemingly found the ability to speak again and stumbled through a sentence:

“I’ve got… uh… a thing,” the emphasis on the final word was accompanied by an awkward shift, his hand automatically reaching up to comb through his hair and messing it up even more.

That did not help. At all. You blinked, aware of the comedy role you had just been awarded without warning. You were vaguely conscious of the server’s gaze, undoubtedly staring at the spectacle presented with fascination.

“Jesus, what thing?” when Neil did not elaborate, you prodded with another question, gaining a slightly hysterical edge.

It was probably that tone which made the most impact. Neil seemed to wake up, his hands gesturing as he attempted to explain:

“A thing about figuring out people’s drink order,” he shrugged, almost as if already embarrassed by ever bringing it up; that would not do, “Like a-”

“A kink?” you interrupted his explanation with a devilish grin, knowing that it would do the job.

That and the teasing, of course.

The reaction was instantaneous. Where previously there had been mild shyness and uncertainty, the furious blush had bloomed. Neil looked horrified as he took a step in your direction as if considering sealing your mouth shut before finally admitting defeat. What you got instead was a glare and an affronted reply:

“What? No! More like talent, I guess,” Neil shrugged, visibly battling the dilemma you were not privy to. You decided to help him the best way you knew how – by reaching out and squeezing his hand. Once. Just once. It was enough to do the job and make your fingers itch with an inexplicable desire to prolong the contact. Luckily, it disappeared when Neil recovered from his internal crisis and gestured towards the counter, “May I?”

You could only nod, happy that whatever had just transpired was past you. Not that it was not fun, but because of the audience that did not deserve to see what had happened. Whatever it was.

“You’ve got me intrigued, so now you have to,” shrugging upon Neil’s hesitant smile, you ventured inside the café, scouting for a perfect table.

Soon enough, the ideal booth had been located and taken as you awaited Neil’s return. You did not have to wait long, for as soon as you settled and placed your coat on the backrest, he sat in the chair in front. That sheepish smile was still in place, so you tried to bring back his confidence with dumb chitchat until you were interrupted by the server approaching your table. It worked. As you both fell quiet, Neil was visibly fighting a grin threatening to transform his face. The pride surged in your veins without respect towards your sense of humility.

The woman shot you both a bright smile as she set neared the table and put a steaming porcelain cup in front of Neil:

“Flat White for you, sir, and for your girlfriend-” you never got to hear the end of that sentence as Neil’s horrified expression and a loud interruption stole your attention.

“Oh, we’re not-” your laughter was almost enough to drown out his protest.

Almost because the server still looked extremely apologetic as she placed a larger cup in front of you with a clink.

“-Caramel Macchiato,” you waved off the atonement she seemed ready to launch and smiled, the curiosity at his choice already occupying your mind.

“Thank you,” as soon as the woman was out of earshot, you turned your cheeky smile onto Neil and covered his hand resting on the table with your palm, “Are you ashamed of me, my darling?” your favourite blush spread upon his cheeks, widening your grin in the process.

A blunder like that was not something you would ever lose sleep over. Even less so, considering that you were there with Neil. Even with your deep-rooted dislike over anything that had to do with relationships and the complications they lead to, you could not possibly be angry over being perceived as belonging to Neil. If anything, it was flattering.

“Stop it,” he shook off your hand, way too gently, and shook his head as if desperate to clear it, “I just didn’t-” after a beat, he dropped your gaze, giving up the fight, “It doesn’t matter, sorry” although you would do anything to understand the thought processes unfolding behind those slightly vacant blue eyes, you were not given a chance. Instead, he took a fortifying sip of coffee and looked at your cup, (not so) swiftly changing the topic “So… how did I do?” the anticipation in that gaze offered no space for a bargain.

You glanced at the beverage in front of you and slowly raised it to get a tentative taste. The warm liquid slightly burned your tongue, but before you could mourn the damage, the caffeine and creamy caramel filled your mouth with pleasurable goodness. It was a top-notch choice, making you follow that first sip with another almost without a break. Burned tongue be damned.

“Very good, actually,” raising your head, you met Neil’s proud smile. It was a much better look than the embarrassed expression from earlier, motivating you to add, “Maybe you should try getting into BGT with that talent,” you winked at him, even if to prolong the blush, which had begun to fade.

But also because it was fun to compliment him, considering that you meant every word and because of your suspicions that Neil did not get them often. That alone was a travesty, in your opinion.

“Very funny,” rolling his eyes at you with a happy smile tucked in the corner of his lips, Neil looked even better.

It was easy enough a conclusion that lightness and happiness were a good look on him. Especially when you were the cause. You tried not to let that go into your head, but… Well.

“I know,” you matched his smile with a smirk of your own, “Hysterical,” with the perfect pause to take another sip of the glorious coffee, you shifted the topic, “How was the week at the clergy?”

Without Neil’s continuous amused reactions to the same old joke, you would have dropped it by now. But how could you if it still got a laugh out of him each time? You couldn’t let opportunities like that slip by. No chance.

This time, Neil hid the joyous huff of laughter in the coffee cup as he pondered the answer.

“It’s been good. Fine,” a noncommittal shrug offered no room for guessing what it was that he did, which was still a mystery, but you counted wins where you could find them, “A bit busy, but what can you do. I might have a work trip coming up soon, so…” it was only when the second part of his reply was processed by your brain, currently preoccupied with staring at Neil’s mouth (which was a very normal state of mind to have), that you perked up.

That was important information. For two contrasting reasons. One was that whatever Neil did for work involved work trips, and that narrowed down the field, albeit barely. Two was that it would mean he would not be around every Wednesday, ready to meet you. That second deduction took hold of your heart with the icy grasp of disappointment.

“So, no more Wednesday meetups?” it was impossible to keep the sadness out of your tone as you settled a wary gaze on Neil.

Sure, it was survivable. But where would be the fun in it?

It was not fun to see that same apprehension creep into Neil’s eyes.

“Yeah, but only like… for a few weeks,” from his sudden dislike of eye contact, you guessed that the estimation might have been an understatement. Though you did hope he was not lying. The pitiful look must have been still present on your face, for Neil followed the statement with reassurance, “I’m sure you’ll survive without me,” he hesitated for a millisecond before returning your previous gesture and giving your hand a comforting pat.

You did not move it away, the pleasant warmth and weight of his palm seeping through your skin and soothing the sudden spell of sadness. It was difficult not to let that inexplicable feeling lead you into the deep end as it was not something you understood. It settled in the darkest cavern of your heart and accompanied its beat with its foreboding presence. There was no choice but to push past it.

“I don’t know, I’m going to miss you,” the confession felt dangerously light on your tongue as you registered Neil’s reaction. His beautiful eyes widened almost imperceptibly, and he quickly dropped your gaze, choosing to stare at the table instead. The only sign that you were heard was how his thumb stroked your hand repeatedly, “I hope you’ll be back before the premiere,” using the only way you knew of lightening the conversation, you made sure to slip in a playful tone.

Ever since the day you had shared joyous news with Neil, he often asked about the preparations for the ballet. He seemed genuinely interested in the process, the rehearsals, and your impressions at every stage.

When you innocently hinted at a costume fitting in your texts Neil immediately asked for a picture. You complied, gleefully posing in the dressing room mirror wearing the whole get-up, complete with pointe shoes, tights, and a white ballet tutu with the accents of blue flower petals. All in all, you had the right to believe that Neil would be interested in coming to see the ballet when it premiered. You had that covered.

“I’ll do my best,” his hopeful smile was enough to distract you, for soon Neil followed it with a question, “Do I get an invite?”

The cheeky smile was back in full force, almost wiping you off the surface of the Earth. More of that, please. Feeling brave, you slowly tangled your fingers with his to raise your joined hands from the tabletop and squeezed his palm. It was a silly question to ask. You had to make sure Neil knew that.

“Well, duh,” you started with an eye roll, taking pleasure from the feel of his hand holding yours, “I’m going to need a personal cheerleader for when I fail big time,” it was a rare thing to hear you admit the fear and anxieties out loud.

Most of the time, they only existed in your mind, never expressed. And especially not in a conversation because that fear of someone else confirming all you feared was overwhelming. It was better to appear invincible to the world than to let them know your weaknesses. Somehow this logic did not want to apply itself to Neil. No, he has heard it all. And yet, he did not seem keen on confirming you were right to doubt yourself.

“That’s not going to happen. You’ll be the perfect Cupid,” punctuating the encouragement with a squeeze of the hand, Neil shot you a brilliant grin.

The nickname was growing on you. It was also the cause of a few silly smiles during the rehearsals when you were addressed with your character role. That was alright, too.

Now, with the force of his beautiful smile shining upon you like a rare beacon of hope, you tried your hardest not to let the praise consume you whole. Instead, you turned to the faithful vice of sarcasm as you let go of his hand and settled your chin on your folded palms. Eyelashes and doe eyes in full force. Naturally.

“Wow, my charms must be working if you’re this blindsided,” curling the corner of your mouth in a smirk, your eyes roamed over his face in familiar patterns.

It was refreshing to remember why you invited him out in the first place. Why you have decided to break the unwritten role and step on the line you both had been tiptoeing from day one. Why nothing was holding you back from reaching for what you wanted.

This time, Neil did not turn away from your taxing gaze and met it head-on. Almost as if permitting you to proceed with whatever you desired.

“You’ve no idea, sweetheart,” mirroring your tentative smirk, Neil offered you a wink and picked up the coffee cup.

You were certainly not going to eschew a chance like that.

***

As far as first dates (could he even call it that?) went, meeting up for coffee and letting the conversations run without a disaster somewhere in between was rare. Even rarer still considering that Neil did not know how he got to this point and whether it was not all a dream. The jury was out on that. Even though Sunday was now two days ago, the meeting was still fresh in his mind, posing a thousand questions.

Because he really did not know how he got that place. The only certainty was that sometime between the surprising Saturday night meeting at Leicester Square station and the day after, Cupid made up her mind and chose to strike. Alternatively, she decided to act considering the realisations he was not privy to. Sure, that night at the station almost ended with a kiss. He knew that. He was there. But it did not offer answers as towards why an almost kiss made her behave in contrast to what Neil thought he understood about her.

Because a date was definitely a step above flirting. And it was hard to understand what that meant. If anything at all.

Now, on a rainy Tuesday afternoon, Neil stared out the window of the HQ cafeteria and tried his hardest not to think about it (her) for a change. It was not going well, as one could expect. From the corner of his eye, he could tell Ives was staring. Those piercing blue eyes (bluer than his, which has once or twice been proved during a night out as those things usually are) have been glancing his way instead of focusing on the sandwich on his plate. What a prick (affectionate). After what felt like a fiftieth glance, Neil dropped the napkin onto his place with force and turned towards Ives with a glare. The patience has worn out.

“Oh, just spit it out,” Neil hissed the words with ire.

The grin spreading upon Ives’ lips did not help a bit. The soldier leaned forward, abandoning his food and setting the perceptive eyes upon his friend. Mercilessly. With years of friendship, Neil knew this was not ending well.

“I haven’t said a word,” the man shrugged; a picture-perfect nonchalance.

If only.

“But you’ve been staring,” Neil’s attempt at covering up the tension with a bored tone failed.

He knew that as soon as he saw Ives’ unimpressed smile. There were no doubts about where this conversation was heading. It was the interrogation Neil had feared from day one. It was only a matter of time. Damn it.

“Go ask Henrik. Maybe he can help you gauge my eyes,” in moments like this, Ives’ cockney accent came out in full force, tearing at the shreds of patience Neil seemed to have.

Despite himself, he cracked a smile at the comeback.

“Doubtful,” quickly hiding it in the sip of tea, Neil muttered a quip of his own.

While Henrik, the team’s medic, was a peculiar man, it was improbable he would be into that kind of thing. Unfortunately.

“Eh, I wouldn’t put it past him,” before he could hope this was the end of the conversation, Ives levelled him with another no-bullshit look and delivered the sentence in four simple words, “Mate, spit it out,”

If only it were that easy. For one, Neil did not even know what there was to tell. Sure, he has met a girl. He was probably thinking too much about said girl daily. But that was it. The end of the story. Pathetic, as per usual.

“I’d rather not,” as the last resort of keeping his dignity intact, Neil averted his gaze and fixed his stare on the dirty floor of the cantina.

A solitary potato chip was lying there, attracting attention. For one, maddening second, his brain tried to concoct an elaborate metaphor in which he was like that lonely, forgotten chip on the ground.

Thankfully, the idea was soon dispersed by his irreplicable companion and his booming voice, cutting through the idiotic thoughts:

“I beg to differ,” the hint of reassurance in Ives’ voice was responsible for luring Neil into listening, just as the soldier delivered the question, “What’s her name? His name? Their name?”

Admittedly, the inclusive way of asking was a nice touch from someone who frequently lacked decorum. Or, more accurately, did not bother with it. It was that addition that made Neil crack, with the final resolve crumbling as he tried to protest:

“There’s no- Cupid,” giving out a tired sigh, Neil finally raised his head and repeated the nickname with something ridiculously close to the softness of affection, “I call her Cupid,”

It made no sense. He knew that. But it did not help that whenever he thought of her, that stupid, embarrassing part of his heart was roused awake from periodical slumber. So much for being reasonable.

As soon as Ives whistled lowly and that familiar sardonic grin appeared on his face, Neil knew it was a mistake.

“Kinky,” his murderous glare got ignored in favour of another pressing question, “Who’s the lucky lady?”

Lucky was definitely an overstatement if you asked Neil. But he did not fancy getting into the specifics of the relationships yet. Instead, he happily let himself delve back into memories of that first meeting. He still could not find other apt ways to describe it than a strike of fate. Dramatic? Sure, that was his second name.

He did doubt that Ives would appreciate the insane poetic ruminations, however.

“I’ve met her at the Tube, and she’s a ballerina… Pretty fucking cool, at that” that was a non-negotiable fact. Period.

Yet from the way his friend stared at him, Neil could easily deduct that here, too, he sounded like the insane idiot that he was. An idiot that finds friends on the Tube and lets that develop into something else. Something he tried very hard not to define. It was going splendidly well. Of course.

“Uh oh,” as if reading his mind, Ives, the prick, pasted on a silly grin and bated his eyelashes down at him, continuing the interrogation, “Is that a crush I’m sensing?”

Fuck. That was, indeed, a mistake.

Not that there was a crush because there absolutely wasn’t anything of that sort. Idiot, he might have been, but not… No. No. Which is exactly why Neil had to pause to cover his face with his hands and let out a deep sigh. Conveniently ignoring Ives and his bullshit assumptions.

Only once he felt like the annoyance had simmered to an acceptable white noise, Neil dropped the hands covering his face and met his destiny in the form of an infuriating sardonic smile.

“No, she’s just… I’m fascinated, okay? I’ve never met anyone like her before, and we’ve got a good thing going with weekly chats and… stuff,” running out of steam, Neil let the last word trail off into silence.

He knew what it all sounded like. He did. Except that there was no better way of describing it (them) to the outside world. And he was certainly not keen on showing Ives the texts. Not after the last conversation this morning, which involved more innuendos and another rendition of What socks are you wearing? - his favourite game. Truly. What made the exchange more incriminating, however, was the fact that Cupid’s current socks brandished an image of an adorable pug with a caption: “Send dog pics”. Yeah, that. That was a theme he was so far happy to ignore. Kind of.

“Did you kiss her yet?” another ridiculous question acted like a wake-up call as Neil felt the loathed, crimson blush fill his cheeks.

“What is this? Middle school?” another outburst got met with a stoically blank face, not helping to ease the shame of being so goddamn transparent “No, I didn’t,” I wish, “We danced” offering the alternative lowkey felt like self-sacrifice.

Not because Neil was embarrassed of what had happened that Saturday night but because it stayed a secret to anyone who was not him or Cupid. At least, that is what she told him, much to inexplicable surprise, which he could not and would not try to understand.

“I never knew you dance,” the soldier’s remark, as always, missed the mark.

Annoyance at the whole world, at this rate, rose at a steady pace. Perhaps it would have been more accurate to say that Neil was frustrated at the circumstances of the relationship with the woman in question, but it was too soon for self-realisation to do its work.

“Of course, I do,” instead, it was the distant feel of pity that nagged at the edges of his soul as Neil allowed the dismissive reflection to be voiced without the veil of fake pep, “Anyway, none of it matters. She’s not into relationships, so…” he shrugged, aware of the pitiful picture.

In a way, it was easier to know that about her ahead of time. It was perfect information to push at his brain and heart whenever they got too comfortable with the situation. To remind them (and himself) that it was not going anywhere, and it never would.

But, for some infuriating reason, the heart tended to be a stubborn beast holding no regard for facts. Not that heart had anything to do with this just yet. Of course not. Neil just… liked her. As a human being likes another human being. Platonically.

“Surely, your roguish charm will convince her otherwise,” as expected, Ives looked as if he was trying very hard not to feel sorry for him and was failing.

The reassurance hardly worked if Neil was being honest. The existence of said roguish charm was highly debatable. But who was he to argue?

“Nah, it’s fine. I can be just friends with her” manifesting much, or whatever. It was a blessing to have a different topic to switch to, “Anyway, I’m not going to see her for the next couple of weeks since we’re leaving,” another attempt at a nonchalant shrug got lost in the heaviness Neil could not shake off if he tried.

Going off on a mission right now, in the middle of it all, was far from ideal. Neil liked his job, loved it even, but then, some operations felt like a drag from the moment they appeared on his desk. That was one of them.

“Yeah, Lisbon is on,” from the tiredness written all over Ives’ face, Neil could tell the lack of enthusiasm was shared, “Two weeks, but it might be longer,”

“Great,” sarcasm dripped from the word as Neil glanced at his friend and asked, “We’re going to bunk together?”

It was only half a joke. Because only the company made the perspective of that mission seem a little less daunting.

“You wish, love,” the answering grin on Ives’ face was the perfect punchline to the dramatic conversation. The soldier got up from the table with another quip, “You know I’m not into blondes,” he walked away without another glance, yet the laugh he elicited from Neil could be heard in the room above the cantina.

#neil tenet #tenet movie #tenet 2020 #neil tenet x reader #neil tenet fanfic #neil x reader #neil tenet imagine #tenet fanfic #robert pattinson #robert pattinson x reader #robert pattinson x you #robert pattinson x y/n #robert pattinson imagine #deadlines & commitments

[rythyme]

#sorry i wasn't done with this meme format #cupid's last wish #vice versa #gmmtv 2022 #lgbt drama #thai drama #gmmtv2022

[gunsatthaphan]

Me: wanting to watch upcoming bls so that i can make memes for relevant shows and interact with the community

Also me: chooses the cute and relatively short one that already has 60% of it's episodes out because it's the only one my procrastination and plot pickiness would allow.

Also also me: Semantic Error is over T_T, I want to watch cutie pie and enchante, they're both on YouTube, don't do this to me my schedule won't allow it and neither will me procrastination (╥﹏╥)

I don't know what show you're talking about specifically but.... mood lmao.

the airing-schedule has been crazy these last few months lol. The shows I wanted to watch but couldn’t are still piling up lol. It’s thinning out a bit in the upcoming weeks though, which is good bc I’ll finally have time to catch up on some stuff.

I’m pretty excited for the international release of cupids last wish which starts next sunday; also I’m gonna start with My Ride and The Tuxedo once Not Me and YMS end.

xxx

#cupids last wish #my ride #the tuxedo

[simpsiren]

here’s the masterlist to all my ff! i categorised in terms of the groups and members. please do not copy any of my ff :D last updated: 01.04.2021

◇ >5k fics

▢ <5k fics

○ timestamp fics

♡ personal fav

a- angst f- fluff

whole of nct.

-> terror at McDonalds ◇

you and your coworkers were intensely shocked and sent into an uproar when a large group of idols suddenly came in.

nct dream.

-> To all the flowers I’ve loved before ▢

A collection of letters that were never sent out, all about the boys I’ve faced in my teenage years. All of them were beautiful in their own ways, like the meaning of their birth flower which got me to like them in the first place.

-> as they should ♡

Various stories of all nct dream members based on education institutions.

jaemin.

-> coffee or me? ◇ f, strangers to lovers, 5.1k

-> my book ◇ f, close friends to lovers, 1k

-> [04:47] ○

“You shouldn’t be here.”

-> Jasmine ▢ ♡ f, confession au, <1k

jaehyun.

-> Museum freak ◇ f, strangers to lovers, 6,4k

-> Boyfriend ◇ ♡ a, f, toxic to good relationship au, 7k

-> A Shame Indeed ◇ a, f, toxic teasing au, 14.5 k

taeyong.

-> danger nature ▢ a, strangers to lovers, 4.6k

-> Tsundoku ◇ ♡ f, a, love letters au, best friends to lovers, 12.4k

jeno.

-> closer to you ▢ ♡ f, a, soulmate au, strangers to lovers, 4k

-> Drunken guest and a tail ▢ ♡ f, 1.6k

-> Post-loids back to town ◇ ♡ a, f, childhood friends to lovers, 8k

mark.

-> late at night ◇ f, confession au, 1.4k

-> sticky notes (intro) ◇ ♡ soulmate au, strangers to lovers, <1k

-> sticky notes: the story ◇ ♡ 7.7k

-> [23:56]

“Don’t worry. Keep talking nonsense. Your own nonsense, And I’ll kiss you for it.”

-> When you love someone ▢ ♡ f, friends to lovers au, 2.8k

-> Fan of Fan ▢ f, idol! mark au

jisung.

-> trailer of you ◇ a, f, strangers to lovers, 11.4k

-> Late night blues ▢ f, idol! jisung au, 1.7k

johnny.

-> Lovers through lies ◇ a, f, contract dating au, rich kids au, strangers to lovers, 8.7k

winwin.

-> the gear mechanic ◇ a, f, unrequited love au, 9.2k

haechan.

-> competitors to the sand ◇ a, f, strangers to lovers, 8.2k

hendery.

-> Over my dandelions ◇ ♡ a, f, wishes au, 5.4k

xiaojun.

-> Summer’s promise ▢ f, emotional au, separation au, 2.9k

yuta.

-> Airdropped ▢ internet(?) au, 1.3k

One day, out of pure boredom or perhaps without even thinking, I decided to airdrop memes to random iphone users in the bus. How dumb was I to think that I wouldn’t get caught.

lucas.

-> Not every day ▢ a, f, cupid au, 1.5k

seonghwa.

-> about the roommate ◇ f, roommate au, confession au, 3k

san.

-> Reckless sacrifice ▢ a, angel&devil au, <1k

eric.

-> Guest house stranger ◇ ♡ a, f, stranger to lovers au, staycation au, 5.3k

#masterlist #main masterlist

[laurastuckinhell]

SPAMANO FANFIC RECOMMENDATIONS

Fanfiction means a lot to me.because that´s how I learned to speak English fluently, which is why I´ve been wanting to do this for a long time but I thought that no one would be interested in this. I realized that even if just one person discovers a fic they like because of me then that´s good enough. So, here it is: a shit ton of spamano.

(I didn´t include George Devalier because I feel like everyone knows about his stories by now)

Neighbours 

Antonio and Lovino live in the same neighbourhood but don't know each other personally. Lovino sees Antonio jogging every day and quite enjoys his tan and shirtlessness. Lovi tries to get Toni to notice him by conveniently gardening or getting the mail or w/e at the same time that the other jogs, but they end up meeting by something unplanned, awkward, and cute.

This is from the kink meme and it´s really cute- perfect for when you need to cheer up!

The rose family by thegoliathbeetle​

Antonio was the best football player in the high school team. Until a certain Lovino Vargas arrives. Lovino is gifted, ruthless, and brilliant on the field. Antonio finds it all rather endearing, much to Lovino's chagrin. And somehow, this has something to do with 'being true to yourself' and all that jazz. -Spamano oneshot. Human AU.

This is one of my all time favoirtes when it comes to Hetalia Fanfiction in general, extremely cute and brilliantly written.

The Prince and the Pauper by 78meg9

When Prince Feliciano goes missing, it is up to a poor servant boy Romano to step in to take his place and thwart an evil plan to take over the kingdom. However, falling in love was something neither one anticipated. Based off Barbie's Princess and the Pauper.

This fic is exactly what it sounds like. It was a really fun read for me :)

Singles by StarsMadeinHeaven

AU Antonio, Francis, and Gilbert are three friends who suffered their first heartbreaks at the age of fifteen, and made a pact to never fall in love again. That will change for Antonio when he first lays eyes on a brown-haired young man in a club...

we need to talk about this fanfic, it´s absolutely gorgeous and kept me on edge the whole time

A new life by Sheena Wilde

Slave AU. Owing huge family debts, Antonio is made a slave to the Vargas household and a personal servant to Lovino, but the wealthy patrician seems not to recognize him from their shared childhood, and the sex only complicates things.

It‘s been quite a while since I‘ve read this one but I remember liking it a lot!

una notte a napoli by Alexander Ryan

Antonio visits Naples with some old friends, Gilbert and Francis. During a drunken night, Antonio finds himself at the beach to hear a gentle song being carried upon the breeze. Atop a balcony is a man Antonio deems as an angel, but alas, as soon as this 'angel' spots him, he retreats back into the house, leaving Antonio to stand there, alone. The next day, they run into each other again - quite literally - and to apologize for being drunk and staring that night, Antonio offers to buy Lovino lunch and a sweet. Lovino begrudgingly agrees and thus, romance sparks. The problem? Antonio's only in Naples for a week.

I ABSOLUTELY ADORE THIS FANFIC! I actually started learning Italian because of this. It’s really beautiful, extremely sad. Also- I‘m sorry to my friends that were annoyed by me talking about this fic.

An antipodean tale of love by ChibiAnimefreak

Antonio and Lovino have been friends for as long as either of them can remember, but when one day "friends" is pushed just a bit farther, how will they deal with it? And how far will they go?

This one is beautiful as well! The emotional conflict is very well written and even the smut part is very well written.

Promise me tomorrow by watanabemaya

For there are no words which could ever suffice to express just how much they mean to each other; and yet, as Spain wraps his arms around the small of his frame, Romano knows that that alone is enough. It isn't much, but it is enough. / SpaMano oneshot.

Ahhhh I just love how the characters and their relationship are written in this one!

The gaming of the shrew by Shadowcatxx

This story is a Hetalia-spoof based on Shakespeare's The Taming of the Shrew (1593-4). Lovino Vargas is a rich Italian heir, whose shrewish nature can't be tamed. Enter the fortune-hunter, Antonio Fernández Carriedo. When a scheming group of courtiers—keen to wed Feliciano—convince the Spaniard to marry Lovino to take him off the market, Antonio accepts the offer, which soon becomes a rough-and-tumble farce the wily Spaniard is determined to win.

I really really really like this story and since I’m a huge nerd for both literature and history I absolutely fell in love. (Also it‘s incredibly funny)

Five times Romano unintentionally made Spain blush by darkhue

...and one time he did it on purpose.

Extremely fluffy, will make you smile. Simple and cute :)

The Phone Call From Across the Hallway by TheGoliathBeetle

Lovino wakes up at 2.37 am to a phone call from Antonio, who ideally should be in bed with him, but is not. Antonio is sick, and Lovino tries very hard to keep his cool. -Spamano, Human AU, one-shot, sickfic-

Another cute and fluffy oneshot that I didn‘t know I needed in my life.

Cupid fired the shooting star by TheGoliathBeetle

Romano 'Lovino' Vargas wants nothing more than to distance himself from his grandfather and his murky illegal business. When a shooting star streaks across the sky, Lovino's friends make wishes. And the next day, a mysterious new student named Antonio turns up in class. So starts a cycle of wishing, fulfillment and a lot of red carnations. College AU Spamano. Two-shot.

Ok ok ok. We need to talk about this fanfic. It is so goddamn beautiful that I still feel like crying every time I think about it. Another one of those fics that all my non-hetalian friends know about because I couldn‘t stop talking about it when I first read it.

We the dreamers by TheGoliathBeetle

New York City, 1940: Antonio is a recently arrived refugee from Spain, a scarred soldier with firm political convictions. For Lovino, everything is pointless and nothing ever lasts. The two of them live, love and dream desperately, as World War Two threatens to take it all away. -Spamano, three-shot-

Very dark but incredibly beautiful. One of these fanfics that give you the kind of excitement that only a good story can give you.

Bottoms! Up by SunnyDayinFebruary

Follow Lovino on his weird and, well, at least quite interesting trip around Europe in order to find out some of the greatest secrets ever about himself, Europe, tomato-shaped alarm clocks and the past of his lovely, but complicated Spanish partner. This story is actually a part two, which I didn‘t read and I don‘t think it is required to but in case you want to read it, you can find it here

I just love this story so much, it‘s incredibly cute and funny (like really really really funny) and made me fall in love with every hetalia character mentioned. Also, this has like 80 long chapters so get ready for a long term relationship with this fanfic.

Spin the bottle by 78meg9

If you're going to play spin the bottle, you've got to have the balls to kiss people. At least that's what Lovino thinks. 

a really cute and fluffy oneshot

Of vending mashines and night clubs by bubbleteadesu

AU (human names used) ; Lovino Vargas is an aspiring artist who struggles with the pressure of having a world-renowned landscape artist as his brother. Antonio Fernandez Carriedo is a jobless man, who enjoys living in the present (too much, actually) and takes life one step at a time. A chance meeting one winter night by a certain bright red vending machine leads to another and another until they form an unlikely friendship. One day, Antonio is offered a job as a bartender at his friend's bar and he asks Lovino to work with him there. As they begin to spend more time together, Lovino is confronted by Antonio's new feelings for him and his own feelings for Antonio. But, is he ready to accept them?

I´m so in love with the way the characters are written- especially Lovino! It´s really to write him in a way that isn´t annoying to read while still remaining true to the character; which is what this author did in a really beautiful way.

Bad hair day by spinyfruit

Lovino works at a hair salon and Antonio's a daily customer who comes by with any excuse so he can talk. To figure out how to get Antonio to like him, Lovino visits Emma (Belgium) quite often, and unintentionally makes Antonio jealous. Then the game of wooing begins. - Spamano fluffiness - ONESHOT.

Really cute and a quick read that´ll leave you grinning like an idiot

Haze by ChampagneSly

A random AU in which Romano is best friends with Veronika, who happens to be engaged to Alfred, who happens to also be Romano’s friend. Veronika has a bachelorette party and Romano, in his role as incredibly charming and handsome gay BFF, attends. Alfred would like details, please. Romano wishes he could remember what happened after the fourth gin martini.                       Oh, and Spain’s a stripper.

This fic is really cute and funny, I´ve read it about ten times and I recommend everyone else to do so as well.

Rebels in a sleeping city by norvegiae

"I felt like we were in limbo, two blindingly awake rebels in this sleeping city. I didn't know your reasons for being up and about. But, you were, and so was I, grinning at you like it was going out of fashion."

the kind of fanfic that will make you cry at 3 am but it´ll be worth it because it´s just so beautiful

How to care for your spain by AlexanderRyan

A guide written and published by Romano Italia. Strong (basically obvious) hints to Spamano.

really cute, simple + AlexanderRyan´s beautiful writing style

Change in routine by Roxi2Star

A look at Lovino and Antonio's changing morning routine.

I come back to reading this fic almost every month. It´s a really cute and fluffy OS that is written in a very interesting way.

The art of flying by TheGoliathBeetle

They’re both a little bit damaged, a little bit unscathed. Lovino can only truly see the world when Antonio describes it to him. Words can be magical, words can drive the darkness away. –Spamano one-shot. Blind!Lovino, Writer!Antonio, College AU-

kinda sad but really really beautiful, describes their relationship in a beautiful way.

Underwater Land  by satsukiarisa

Human names and A.U: Antonio was a merman. Lovino hated water. It was truly a match made in heaven.

This one is very sweet and funny and I really enjoyed readig it :)

The Romantic Developments of Antonio and Lovino Through Texts by Spinyfruit

Texting started gaining popularity in 1999, but it wasn't until the year 2007 that iPhones came out: then shit got serious and countries started texting each other. This is the story of how one happy-go-lucky idiot, and one stubborn idiot finally get together. It only took a few hundred years. Mainly Spamano with side FrUK, PruCan, Gerita, AmeriPan, and others.

ahhhh I love this one so much...I really like the texting theme!

Braces by Roxi2Star

Antonio just got braces, and is feeling very self conscious of them. Maybe Lovino, a cute kid in his grade ho also has them can make him feel better about having braces, and maybe realize their not so bad. Ok so maybe he becomes less self conscious of them, but in the braces are a pain. Especially when their stuck to another pair.

I was really happy when I rediscovered this one, as someone who had to wear braces for five years in total this is even funnier to me...

(Non Spamano Fanfiction) 

Asylum (Usuk GerIta)  by thealphagay

1963; Feliciano Vargas is the newest patient at Bitterwell Mental Asylum. One problem, there's nothing wrong with him. Trying to escape will be hard, trying to understand the dark asylum will be even harder. Because behind those gated walls are torturous methods, strange patients, and even stranger doctors.

Based loosely off American Horror Story: Asylum

i know i know this is a spamano masterlist but I really think that this fic deserves more appreciation , because it´s really cool. I had a lot of fun reading it even tho I normally don´t like Usuk that much.

#spamano #spamano fic rec #spain #aph spain #aph romano #lovino vargas #antonio fernandez carriedo #hetalia #aph #aph south italy #Hetalian #hetalia fanfiction #aph fanfiction #fanfiction recommendation #fanfiction masterlist #laurastuckinhell

[alextriestowritestuff]

House of Hades Read with Me Part 2

Hey guys! I’m back with my final thoughts on House of Hades (HoH) by Rick Riordan. My thoughts covering the first half of the book can be found here. My thoughts on Son of Neptune/why I’m re-reading the series is here. My Mark of Athena thoughts are here. If you want to know my general thoughts on HoH and don’t want to read my long winded review of it here it is: It’s AMAZING. This is the best book in the series so far by a landslide imo. Literally if I actually felt more than indifference or dislike for the new HoO characters, I’d say this book was better than any of the PJO books. I was really losing faith in the series before I read HoH to the point where I had wished Rick ended Percy’s story with the Last Olympian. If I were to rate this book, I’d give it a 4.5. I enjoyed the Percabeth, the suspense, and the journey through Tartarus the most. Despite issues with pacing, lack of platonic bonding between the Seven, romantic relationships being stunted for couples such as Piper/Jason and Hazel/Frank, HoH has renewed my faith in the series potentially ending on a good note. 

So let’s get into more specifics down below. I’ll have thoughts, my issues with the book, and spoilers under the cut. 

I’m going to try not to fangirl too much over Percabeth because I’ve done that for all of my read with me’s so far but my heart belongs to them. I loved every reference to their future together. Percy and Annabeth both mentioned possibly having children in the future and I just decided then and there that their relationship is why I have such high standards. This is the blueprint of what I want for my romantic life. Taking applications for suitors now. Actually no, I’m scared of men. Percabeth’s chemistry is out of the world, romantically and in their fighting abilities. I really started to pay attention to how they fight together and as I read, I noticed how they would stand back to back and work together without even saying anything. I’m curious to how they’re going to react now that they’re literally been through hell and back. I’m sensing a PTSD arc. I guess Percy will have a more aggressive reaction (My mans was wildin in Tartarus-also when he said he was going to kill Gaea with his bare hands, I was like umm. sir. Rick better let him have that kill though.) but I can’t quite predict what Annabeth’s reaction will be. Also it wasn’t explained why Percy was acting like a psycho in Tartarus and about to brutally kill Aklyhs but I guess I’m just to assume it was to add suspense and implies he has a dark side. And don’t forget that Percy told Annabeth he loved her back-it wasn’t as poetic as when she said it but he still said love you too. 

Next topic: Bob/Iapetus/Damasen. I like to check goodreads reviews after I finish a book just to see what everyone thought of it and it seems that a lot of people were heartbroken after they (presumably) sacrificed themselves. I don’t have much to say here-I mean, that’s sad and I’m thankful that they did that but I’m not in my feels about it. It was a clever outcome of the ‘foes bear arms to the doors of death’ line from the prophecy. I was wondering if Small Bob had any cool powers the entire time so that was cool when it got all big and helped Bob fight Tartarus (who by the way, scared the shit out of me jesus). 

Nico. Check out my first part to know my thoughts about his whole coming out. I just had a question for you guys here-was he technically outed? And if so, that’s not good. I consider myself an LGBT ally and I try to be aware of when it is and when it’s not okay to reveal someone else’s sexuality. On one hand, I thought it was shitty of Cupid to coerce Nico into it but on the other hand if we (the readers) found out that Nico was gay by just him saying he liked Percy, I would’ve been like there’s nothing in the text to support that statement (because prior to HoH, I thought he hated Percy--blaming him for Bianca’s death--then only helped Percy (River styx, the Labyrinth) because he was an ally to the gods like Nico) so having the scenes in HoH of how Nico started to develop feelings for Percy made so much more sense to me. And those scenes only came up because of Cupid. Idk. Let me know what you guys think.

I found it a little strange how Nico wrote off Percy at the end of the book when Percy thanked him for leading the other demigods to HoH. I get it’s probably a defense mechanism to keep his distance from being even more attracted to Percy but I figured Nico would be a little less cold to him now that he admitted his feelings. I saw a goodsreads review that said there was a confirmed Nico POV in Blood of Olympus so fingers crossed we get that and it’ll explain his curt response to Percy and I’d love a Nico POV if we don’t actually have a Percy/Annabeth POV (according to another review I saw) because I can’t deal with the other HoO characters (except Leo, y’all know that tho).

Next topic: Frank and Hazel. I always give credit where it’s due even if I don’t particularly like or care about a character and these two got the MVPs for this book. Hazel’s fight with Pasiphae-it was so cool. For someone who didn’t get a mentor to help her with the mist and figured it out on her own, she was a straight boss. It was a little off to me how her POV started off the book yet she had the least amount of chapters but had this huge task of controlling the Mist/helping the team get through HoH ahead of her. And then her POV pops up in the end to defeat Pasiphae. This is again, why I say, there’s no need for all 7 to narrate. Hecate could’ve easily come to the ship and say all that stuff in front of the crew and let’s say it had been Frank’s POV. He would notice how Hazel is apprehensive/scared of this task because he knows her well and they could talk about it together so we still know her feelings and that’s one less POV because once again, she barely had any chapters. 

Frank. I stand by my thoughts about the ‘growth spurt’, still think it’s hella problematic. I don’t generally care for him but even I got seduced by him more times than I’m willing to admit. When he commanded that dead army I was like yesss. The blessing of Ares and how he literally was on fire and the fact that he pulled an arrow out of his arm like it was no big deal really did it for me. I feel bad, because he’s just not very well written or else I think I could like him. I want to touch on the ship-- tbh, ship is not a word I’d use to describe this DOA relationship, maybe dinghy--ya this DINGHY ‘ship’ that is Hazel and Frank. Like it’s even drier than Jasper lmao. No chemistry there. They had no scenes alone together. I see that they care for each other and are worried when the other person is in danger but that’s not enough. Worry is normal for any relationship, Percy was worried about Grover when he went missing in Sea of Monsters but they weren’t together romantically. 

And it could just be me refusing to ship a 13 year old with anyone but I just get no vibes from them. Leo and Hazel have more chemistry in their conversations alone. This is a total aside but I’ve been getting salty about how little Percy has had to work with in PJO compared to the HoO characters (And I know Rick wrote PJO first, he didn’t develop all these cool things/weapons like charmspeak or Leo’s belt yet) but although Percy is a great swordsman, he only has his powers like every other demigod. Like Hazel has her child of Pluto powers, the jewel curse that has helped her find gold, and now she can control the mist. And technically she has a horse but so does Percy. Frank’s got his fire stick, shape shifting, Ares’ child powers, archery, and he can command armies. Y’all know the other skills/boosts/weapons the other Seven have (Not including Annabeth) so like Rick really gave Percy (and no offense to Percy but also gave him half the intelligence of the HoO demigods) the bare minimum in PJO and we were all still impressed.

There’s this tik tok sound where someone (I don’t know the original meme or video, if you know please comment or reblog. I’d love to give credit), in disbelief, says ‘Wait a minute, what is this? This isn’t enough’ and someone responds in a sassy tone, ‘Make it enough’. And I feel like for PJO, Percy was like this isn’t enough and Rick said make it enough lmaoo. Percy was struggle bussin’ for no reason in PJO! HoO characters get everything handed to them and they still have the AUDACITY to not have any characterization. Couldn’t be me. 

Next two couples I’ll talk about: Leo and Calypso & Jasper. I wasn’t expecting Calypso to be such a savage, like she was DONE with having heroes wash up on her shores. I missed her so much. While I liked the banter between Leo and Calypso, I felt that it was rushed/forced because it all took place in about four chapters. This wasn’t the best execution and part of why I can’t give the book five stars. I think he’ll come back for her, I don’t know how but out of everyone, Leo has really figured out how to make things work when they’re deemed ‘impossible’. So he’ll find a way. I wonder if he’ll confront Percy about leaving Calypso tho, I’d like to see that. So while he was on Ogygia, the other demigods had moved forward and were in Africa. And I was like WOW y’all really said fuck Leo. There was no search party for him (or mention of it), no tears shed for Leo. Damn. No wonder he feels like the Seventh wheel. I mean we got one or two throwaway lines about them worried about Leo’s whereabouts from Jason and Piper but I mean they weren’t in distress about it. I guessing I’m to assume they asked Nico if Leo was dead off screen and Nico confirmed that he wasn’t so they weren’t too worried about him? Anyway, they’re fake friends for that one. 

That aside, Piper and Jason are *yawn* boring as I’ve said before. But I thought he was going to address Piper’s ‘I love you’ confession last book but I’m not sure if he even heard it. I really thought Reyna was going to come in and shake things up between them but just as soon she came, she left w/ Nico and Hedge to take the statue to Camp Half Blood so missed opportunity for resolution there. Piper and Jason also had NO scenes together so I’m really shocked how Rick expects us to ship couples if they don’t spend any time together. I’m not shocked about how Jason is most likely going back to Camp Half Blood after all this is over. It’s superior to Camp Jupiter so I don’t blame him but it’s an interesting choice. I was actually thinking that Percy might stay at Camp Jupiter because I figured he’d stay as praetor. And since Annabeth’s dad lives in Cali, I was thinking they could stay there but I’m sure they go back to New York after BoO because I saw an excerpt where Apollo asks for Percy’s help and I believe Apollo went to Sally’s apartment. But Percy could’ve been visiting Sally and live in CA normally. Speaking of which, how did Jason just give that position to Frank?? He has to be elected lmao. I mean when I read it, I was like Frank gets handed everything but then I was like well, Percy got the position and he wasn’t even at Camp Jupiter for a week and I didn’t complain about that. At least Frank has been there longer and has shown leadership qualities. But yeah, it’s still a no for me for Piper and Jason. At least Piper’s POV chapters weren’t annoying this book but she only got 4 chapters lmao so no time to be annoying. 

To end this review, I want to touch about why I give this book gets a 4.5 and not a 5. I really feel like the 7 POVs were extremely unnecessary especially because the demigods not in tartarus were mostly together and didn’t have as many side quests as MoA. And some of them didn’t even get more than 4 chapters. I found the magic growth spurt way too problematic to overlook. I still feel like the new HoO characters except for Leo are underdeveloped or unlikeable. The pacing wasn’t the best-Alot of things happened in this book and very little of it could’ve been taken out. The pacing wasn’t slow, it was the right pace until about 60% of the way in and then I was just constantly being hit with attacks and rushed meetings like Leo and Calypso. But I can’t quite fault Rick because I felt every event in this book was necessary for it to be as good as it was so of course, some parts end up rushed. In addition, there’s not much bonding happening between the Seven. Like each trio that had their own book had some bonding in there (Can’t speak for Lost Hero because I haven’t read that in 6 or so years. But tSoN had a little, mostly between Frank and Hazel tho) but collectively, as the seven demigods of the prophecy-they haven’t really hung out and just talked about things that aren’t quests. For example in the Lighting Thief, Percy, Annabeth, and Grover would play hacky sack and he bonded with both of them when they were stuck in the zoo animal enclosure whatever. Grover told him about finding Pan and being worried since he was supposed to guide Thalia back to camp safely and he wasn’t able to. Annabeth told him about her dreams to become an architect in the Sea of Monsters. 

Those moments of platonic bonding and intimacy are what’s missing from this series. Yes, the plot/the quest of the Seven should be front and center but I don’t feel like they’re a team. They’re just co workers at this point lmao. Hell, I think all of them participating in a conversation and just talking and enjoying each other’s company would actually make me like the HoO characters. Not Piper, she’s irredeemable in my eyes. She belongs to streets. Everyone else has a fighting chance tho. Guys, think about it. They have something in common (that’s number one requirement of friendship) they’re all demigods. They’ve all been scared, under pressure and expectations to save the world, and felt abandoned by their parents at one point or the other. Leo and Frank have said in their narrations that they feel inadequate next to powerful demigods like Percy and Jason. Imagine if Frank and Leo spoke to each other about that and were friends. Or started a dialogue about feeling inadequate and the other demigods could share their insecurities. The Seven are able to work together, that’s true but it doesn’t feel like friendship. It seems like each separate trio from the first two books are friends (Annabeth is in between because she’s friends with Jason and them but also Percy’s girlfriend) and they all just call the other trio friends because what else is there? Quest mates? 

And I’m getting a little upset rn because there have been so many instances where we could’ve gotten some platonic friendship. Piper is learning from Hazel how to sword fight (How this girl has survived without learning an actual weapon how is beyond me. Charmspeak didn’t work very well for her in this book), like we had both their POVs. We could’ve had a training/bonding scene from either perspective. Not just some throwaway line about how they got close because they’re the only girls now that Annabeth was in Tartarus. Why couldn’t we have gotten one scene Rick? What was the reason? Tragic.

Platonic love and relationships exist. And it’s more than just complimenting someone when they use their powers. The scene at the end of the book when the Seven, Hedge, Reyna, and Nico are having lunch together on the hill is a whisper in the right direction. How Jason ‘bear hugged’ Percy when he got out of Tartarus is another example. Though this wasn’t platonic and was more familial but Nico basically accepting Hazel as his siser (On a level that is acknowledging her on the same level as Bianca and not just another kid of Hades/Pluto) by kissing her on the cheek. I know you can do it Rick. You’ve done it before. All I want from the last book in this series is platonic love, answers about how Hazel’s curse will be lifted by a descendant of Neptune, Percabeth, and the Gaea/giants defeated. You can have all the POVs your heart desires if you just give me those things. 

See you guys next week with the Blood of Olympus read with me. My writeblr followers must be tired of me lmao, I swear I’ll get back to normally scheduled content after this. I love writing this kind of rants/reviews even though they take me like 2 hours to write.

#heroes of olympus #PJO #Percy Jackson #Percabeth #Jason Grace #Nico #house of hades #rick riordan #Read with me #notwriting #alextriestowritestuff #book review

[cadoielsdorkiestranger]

5, 6, 11, 12, 24, 44, 50, 67, 72, 102, 117, for nekoasktheocs questions!

(Ask meme here)

5:What were you doing at 11PM last night?

Sleeping.

6:You’re drunk and lost walking down the road; who is with you?

Berry, probably.

11:You can only drink ONE liquid for the rest of your life - what is it?

Water seems like a boring answer, but water.

12:Do you like hickeys?

They do, a surprising amount actually.

24:Is there someone you wish you could fix things with?

No. Not yet, anyway.

44:If you had to get a piercing (not ears), what would you get?

They’d get either a nose stud or a cupid’s bow piercing.

50:Why aren’t you pursuing the person you like?

Embarrassment, mostly? They also aren’t sure if she likes them the same way, and a romantic relationship might complicate some things or put her in unnecessary danger.

67:Do you curse around your parents?

Yes. They don’t really understand why some people make a big deal out of curse words. They’re just words.

72:What do you most like about making out?

The feeling of the other person’s hands on them. They aren’t very big on touch usually, but this is one situation where it can be...very nice.

102:Are you too shy to ask someone out?

Not shy, just a bit embarrassed and unsure.

117:Your own question that you want me to answer. Just write it.

Are you a noble or not? You weren’t very clear on that.

#innalheid #charlie #asked and answered

[klaineccfanficlibrary]

Any fic Kurt has secret admirer or crazy stalker? klaine maybe dating. Better if it isn’t bodyguard story

The Bodyguard by VisionImpossible

AU. As a world-famous singer, Kurt Hummel becomes the target of a mysterious stalker. But on the other hand, he somehow just can’t get his new bodyguard off his mind..

~~~~~

Dauntless by @scatter-the-stars

The last thing Kurt expected was to be kidnapped.  But being rescued by Blaine and riding out a winter storm together has him admitting out loud to feelings he shouldn’t express.  Because there what he wants from Blaine goes against the rules.  But some rules are meant to be broken.

~~~~~

Not Like the Movies by Knightlycat

When new Hollywood golden boy Kurt Hummel receives some disturbing letters, his manager hires bodyguard Blaine Anderson to be with him 24 hours a day. In an attempt to hide Blaine’s true identity from the press they decide he needs to go undercover…as Kurt’s boyfriend. Famous!Kurt Nevermet!AU

~~~~~

To Shield and To Protect by afterthenovels

shield - verb; 1. protect someone or something from something dangerous, unpleasant, or risky, 2. prevent from being seen

protect - verb; 1. keep safe from harm or injury

Blaine is a college drop-out who ends up becoming a not-so-professional bodyguard of one Kurt Hummel, a costume designer who has been getting anonymous letters. It should be just a simple job, a simple distraction from past mistakes, but of course nothing is ever that simple in Blaine’s life.

(AU. Kurt and Blaine never met in high school, but certain events from canon are mentioned in the fic.)

~~~~~

The Warbler by TheWhiteOwl

Kurt is a famous actor and singer who gets threatening messages and phone calls. One night his house is attacked and his manager suggests him to hire a bodyguard… Or better a whole team, the Warblers. Things just turn more complicated when Kurt finds out that the Warblers’ leader is none other than Blaine Anderson, his former one-night stand.

Note: Part 1 of The Warbler series

~~~~~

An Admirer by writtenfables

Prompt fill for Glee Prompt Meme. Changed slightly. Full summary in notes. SecretAdmirer!Blaine.

~~~~~

The Cupid Project by grlnxtdr30

A new Creative Writing assignment and a confession from Blaine Anderson have Kurt Hummel thinking of a Happy Valentine’s Day at last, but when Blaine’s confession turns out not to be what Kurt hoped, a Secret Admirer steps in to cheer Kurt up. But who is the Secret Admirer?

~~~~~

Secret Admirer by StarGleekBelle [PDF/EPUB]

Kurt is secretly in love with his best friend Blaine, but what happens when he starts receiving mysterious love notes? AU: Blaine and Rachel are twins.

~~~~~

Make My Wish Come True by @scatter-the-stars

The last thing Kurt expects is a secret admirer.

~~~~~

Your Secret Admirer by KlainePotter621

Kurt keeps getting love notes in his locker. But who is sending them? He has no friends and he is new in school. Who is noticing him?

~~~~~

An Admirer by writtenfables

Prompt fill for Glee Prompt Meme. Changed slightly. Full summary in notes. SecretAdmirer!Blaine.

~~~~~

Secret Admirer by Charleygyrl

A mystery note is left in Kurt’s locker every day without fail. He holds strong with a fantasy that it’s his long time crush, the gorgeous Blaine Anderson, but who is it really? Will he ever find out?

#klaine #klaine fanfiction #fic finder #stalker #bodyguard!Blaine #kidnapped!Kurt #secret admirer #Anonymous

[galahadwilder]

Officiated, Ch. 8

Enjoy my writing? Sponsor a fic chapter!

Officiated Archive

AO3

*

As many of you noticed, when I started writing this they weren't originally going to be 18. And then I looked up France's marriage laws.

I know the ages/timelines in this don't work so please just... ignore that, because the story is way less funny if I try to go back and make those logistics make sense.

Thanks!

*

She can't help reveling a bit in the way he looks at her. He's absolutely stunned, and for the first time she can see him without his guard up, without the carefully-crafted walls Adrien and Chat Noir erect to hide how fragile, how vulnerable, they really are, and her heart aches for him, for her silly, flirty, dorky partner who was kind to her on the days she needed it most. There's no tension in his muscles whatsoever; if she poked him, she's certain he'd collapse into a puddle of boneless jelly. And he's doing that fish-face thing she's sometimes seen Kim do when he's taken by surprise, his mouth open just a little, like he can't really open it all the way but he can't quite muster the brainpower to close it either.

"That..." he says, finally. He blinks, rapid-fire, and she can see the effort it takes him to tear his eyes from her, to twist his neck to look at the cake. "That's your flower," he says. "Your... that's your signature rose."

"Yep!" Marinette chirps, much louder than she anticipated, and immediately flushes bright red as it echoes through the cavernous room, slapping her hand over her mouth and sinking into the chair with the "farting" sound of leather against skin.

"I—don't understand," Adrien says, staring at the box. At the cake. "This is—that's Chat Noir's colors, that's his—" He points. "But... those are my initials?"

Marinette removes the hand from her mouth, slowly, blinks. "Wait, I—?" Oh, seriously? "Chaton. I know."

He spins around to stare at her with wide eyes, overbalances a bit, and staggers into the chair. She barely catches him, her hand sliding on ladybug-print flannel.

"It's—it's you," he sobs, gripping the straps of her camisole and burying his face in her sternum. (It's mildly uncomfortable because his nasal bridge is right on the bone, and she wishes he would move his head a little lower to where there's some more cushioning, but she's not going to suggest that lest they both spontaneously combust.) "It's—it's—" He jerks back, his eyes zipping upward. "Did you just," he says, measuring his words carefully in the way she knows Chat does when he's struggling to remain verbal, "just propose to me... with a meme?"

"Um... no?" she squeaks.

His face falls. She can see tears gathering at the edges of his eyes, and she realizes how what she said must sound, and immediately her brain jumps tracks trying to backtrack.

"Because—!" Her arms start shaking, as she tries not to flail them at the boy currently in her arms, tries to not accidentally slap him in the face. "We're—we're already married, right?" She squeezes his shoulders, trying to keep in the nervous energy. "Can't exactly be a proposal!" Her voice feels shrill and awkward, and she wants to collapse as soon as she hears herself, but, well—she's caught between the chair and her oh my gods I have a husband.

Adrien goes limp, sliding downward out of her arms. She scrabbles after him, trying to hold him up, but... well, Adrien may be underfed, but he's still got about a fifth of a meter on her, and while she can sling Chat Noir across the Seine from a standing start she's working with normal human muscles at the moment. She's yanked out of the chair and onto the ground, flopping on top of him.

She shouldn't have put on her pajamas before she came. She thought it would help her with her nerves, make her more comfortable, but instead she's only too aware of how little clothing is between her and her husband right now. And she's right on top of him. If he weren't shaking like a computer with a busted fan she'd be positively exploding at how intimate this position is.

"Wow. You two are morons."

Marinette gasps as she realizes that someone else is in the room, and looks up to see a familiar tiny black shape, though she’s only seen it around seven times before. “Plagg?”

”You expected Xuppu?” Plagg cackles.

"Plagg! Don't mock them!" Tikki hisses from her place inside Marinette’s pigtail. “This is very stressful for them both!”

”And if we don’t give them a kick in the rear neither of them will move past the ‘uh? Buh? Guh?’ stage,” Plagg responds, settling in top of Marinette’s head. “I’ve seen how bad your girl is at talking to him.”

”I’m getting better!” Marinette protests.

Plagg’s weight shifts on her scalp in a way that suggests he’s rolling his disproportionate eyes. “You’ve been ‘getting better’ for years now.”

”Shut up, Plagg,” Adrien says, and Marinette suddenly realizes that he’s stopped shaking—and that she’s now once more very aware of how she’s lying on top of him.

”H-hi!” she squeaks, trying to roll off him. “Feeling—feeling better?”

”A bit,” he says, with a smile that’s—well, it’s too “Adrien” and not enough “Chat Noir.” Or maybe it’s too Chat Noir and not enough Adrien. Either way it doesn’t seem genuine. “Sorry about—” He glances down, as if finally realizing that he’s holding her on top of him. “Oh!”

He releases her wrists and she launches herself sideways, flopping onto the tile carpet next to him. “Sorry,” she gasps. “That’s—easier in the suits.” She looks at him, holds a hand out to touch his shoulder, thinks better of it. “You know. Touching—touching you.”

“...Ah.” Adrien sits up, and she can’t miss the way the disappointment is written across on his face.

She steels herself, reaches out, places her hand on his foot. It’s the most intimate thing she can do right now without exploding.

He flinches anyway.

”What’s wrong, Kitten?” she says.

”Do you—” His voice breaks, and he looks away. “How’d you find out it was me?”

She blinks, sitting up. He’s very clearly dodging the question. “Alya saw the license,” she says. “And since she didn’t realize it was for Chat and Ladybug, not Marinette and Adrien...”

”She could read both our names,” he finishes. He’s trembling. Again.

”Chaton,” she says. “Either tell me what’s wrong or I will chuck you out the window.”

He freezes, then turns to her with wide, sad eyes. “It’s—nothing,” he says. “I can deal.”

”It’s not nothing,” she shoots back. “I know you’re not disappointed in me because you’ve suspected...” She pushes back her hair, showing the earrings. “You’ve suspected my identity multiple times,” she continues, “and you always looked like you’d... you know, got the cream when you thought it was me...” She clenches her hands, twiddling her thumbs. “I just—I can’t think of what else it could be.”

”It’s not your problem,” he says, gruffly.

”Of course it’s my problem,” she says, reaching out to take his wrist. “I’m your...” She swallows. “I’m your wife.”

He jerks like a gunshot at the word and yanks his hand out of hers. “Not for much longer,” he gasps, and then he’s collapsing into himself, his head falling into his hands falling into his lap, and oh. Oh.

”You thought the cake was sarcasm,” she says, softly, as all the pieces slot into place in her brain like a Lucky Charm. "You think—you think I still want the annulment."

"Don't you?" he whispers.

She swallows, walks her hand up his leg. “Why would I?” she says, feigning more comfort than she’s feeling.

Adrien stiffens, looking at her with shock in his eyes. ”Because... you never wanted me,” he says. “There’s always been someone else.”

Marinette giggles nervously. ”Do you know,” she begins, only to choke on her dry mouth. “Do you know how hard it was to avoid falling in love with Chat Noir?”

He gapes at her.

She entwines her fingers in his. “Yeah, there was someone else at first,” she says, not meeting his eyes. “But... but he didn’t know me like you do. I never trusted him the way I trust you. He could never... make me feel proud, the way you do.” She smiles, tears gathering in her eyes. “I think over time, I just... I kept chasing him so that it wouldn’t hurt so much when I kept losing you.”

”You've never lost me,” Adrien whispers, his thumb gently tracing her palm.

She swallows. “You died just last week, Chaton,” she says. “I lose you all the time and I can’t—” She hiccups. “I can’t stand it.”

He lets go of her hand, and she can’t stop herself from whining at his sudden absence, but then his hands are pressed to her cheeks and he’s holding her gaze to his own. “My Lady,” he says. “I will always come back to you.”

The utter conviction in his voice rocks her to her core. He’s not saying that she’ll bring him back—he’s saying that, even if she can’t, he will tear down heaven to make it back to her side.

”The—the other boy,” she gasps. “His name was Adrien Agreste.”

Emerald eyes stare into hers, uncomprehending—and then his breath is in her mouth, mixed with the fire of her life, of his life, and it’s exactly like Dark Cupid, hot and desperate and painful and real.

*

Enjoy my writing? Buy me a coffee!

Officiated Archive

#miraculous ladybug #officiated #original content #my fic #marinette dupain cheng #Adrien agreste #identity reveal confirmation #identity reveal #tikki #plagg #post reveal pre relationship #crack #fluff #angst #accidental marriage #adrienette #adrinette

[ladymatt]

Last Line Meme

Rules: Post the last line you wrote and tag as many people as there are words.

I was tagged by the wonderful @poemsfromthealley! TY! 💜

*My ability to write has disappeared like a fart in the wind atm, so this is a glimpse of the Malec blind date that’s in the works! (Has been for 2 years, actually, but it’s getting done by the summer, come hell or high water!)*

About to respond with a pithy comment about his friend’s obvious penis envy, Magnus was distracted by his phone going off in the rather tight pocket of his maroon trousers. Letting go of Cat, he paused to check who was calling, not surprised at seeing Raphael’s name on the screen. 

‘Let me guess,’ Ragnor drily enquired as they waited for him, ‘that’s Cupid himself wishing to know your exact coordinates, so that his arrow doesn’t go amiss?’ Magnus rolled his eyes as he answered the call.  ‘Close. It’s Raphael.’ As Cat sniggered, a near frantic voice could be heard shouting down the phone.

Tagging anyone who hasn’t done it yet and would like to! Good luck with your wips, dear writers! 💙 

#TagGames #LastLineMeme #TACOMFic #ladymatt #Malec Blind Date

[theothercourse]

Tom and Kristiane Masterpost

The Course of True Love Never Did Run Smooth - Before Tom Hiddleston became a Hollywood name, he treaded the boards of London’s West End theatre community, honing his craft and networking. On the eve of moving halfway around the world to star in his cinematic breakout role as Loki, he has no time for love or romance or heartbreak. But his best friend, a flamboyant gay man with his heart in the right place, has other plans and decides to play cupid. Sparks fly, words flow, and feelings erupt when Tom meets Kristiane Taylor, a Broadway actress, his intellectual and literary equal. In the words of Tom’s idol, Shakespeare, the course of true love never did run smooth.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

TOM AND KRISTIANE ONE SHOTS/The Next Course

The Course of True Love Never Did Run Smooth Timeline

The Course One Shots

The Course One Shots (during the events of multi chapter around chapter 24 or 25

Pollen

The Next Course One Shots (following the events from the multi chapter story)

Mask

Chocolate

City

Fall

Lullaby

Wary

Tissue

Swift Music

Teacher

Fake

Sin

Calculating Coughs and the Idiot Next Door

Bike Ride

The Angel of Music

Frail

Miles Away

A Tale of Two Cities

Torn

All That Shimmers

Sequel to The Course of True Love Never Did Run Smooth

Down With Love - Since Tom and Kristiane parted ways at the conclusion of The Course of True Love Never Did Run Smooth, their relationship has struggled. The lack of affection isn’t the problem, only two people with varying ambitions and thousands upon thousands of miles between them. With the flame of their relationship doused by the ocean between them, the embers still simmer, waiting to be fanned. Inspired by playing Puck in A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Terry, Cupid, their mutual best friend, intervenes. In the words of Shakespeare himself, the course of true love never did run smooth.

Prologue

Chapter 1

The Course - 3 paragraph prompts

“I have way better things to do than go sponge diving.” (Tom/Kristie)

“But he’s so cute!!!” (Tom/Kristie)

“You’re not supposed to eat it like that!” (Tom/Kristie)

“You have to have a favorite! It’s mandatory!” (Tom/Kristie)

“You know, life would be nicer if you’d learn to share.” (Tom/Terry)

‘Would you mind coming over? I need your help!” (Terry/Kristie)

“So what is really going on?” (Tom/Terry)

“You’ve just been Loki’d” (Kristie/Ben)

“What will you gain when you lose?” (Kristie/Loki)

“What do you mean, you love me?” (Tom/Terry)

Flash Meme #1 (Tom/Kristie)

Flash Meme #4 (Tom/Kristie)

“Do you want it back?” (Tom/Kristiane)

“Last night we…” (Tom/Kristiane)

“Don’t mistake coincidence for fate.” (Tom/Kristiane)

“No it’s NOT!” (Tom/Kristiane)

“I don’t like you right now.” (Tom/Kristiane)

“You’re a scoundrel!” (AU Tom (admirer)/Kristiane (19th century opera diva)

“That’s so grossssss!” (Tom/Kristiane)

Matterhorn, Skiing, Switzerland (Tom/Kristiane)

Singing in the Rain (Tom/Kristiane)

“If you could resurrect any performer and do a musical with them for one day, who would it be?” (Tom/Kristiane)

Things You Said That I Wish You Hadn’t (Tom/Kristiane)

My other stories - My one shots

#tom hiddleston #loki #tom hiddleston rpf #tom hiddleston fanfic #imagines #the course of true love never did run smooth #romance #angst #smut #long distance relationship #shakespeare #oscar wilde #Down with love

[shinnystars]

Fic rec days - Severus Snape x Sirius Black

The Mistletoe Incidents by EliasFinn T 16K 

Mistletoes were a tradition in Hogwarts and Sirius, usually, loved them. But then everything got out of hand and - uuurgh - he'd never really wanted to see that, thank you so very much.

Found in the Moments Between the Search by r_grayjoy E 26K

When Sirius returns from beyond the Veil with knowledge of Voldemort's Horcruxes, he takes on the task of finding and destroying them. Somewhere along the way he finds an unexpected ally and perhaps something more.

Epistula Ultima by FabulaRasa M 15K

Snape faces death, but before he does, he has one last letter to write.

Slowly, But Exceeding Fine by ellen_fremedon E 28K

How to kill a dementor, live under a curse, and let go of an old grudge.

An Occlument Heart by BeautifulYes M 15K

Snape knows that, usually, keeping a secret is the bravest thing you can do. But sometimes the bravest thing is to tell one.

Shade More Than Man by Acamar E 46K

Set six years after the Goblet of Fire, and almost a year after Voldemort has been defeated. How has the wizarding society changed as the aftermath of the war? Why are Sirius Black and Severus Snape sleeping in one, four poster bed?

Sorry by IIBNF E 6K

Sirius Black decides to make amends for the horrid way he treated Snape when they were teenages. Snape is less than amenable to the idea. (Written around the time of book three/four).

Confronting A Nightmare by earthphoenix M 3K

Is it still considered a nightmare when you enjoy it? Well, whatever they are, dreams or nightmares, Sirius finds himself quite disturbed each time he closes his eyes to sleep. He attempts to walk it off, only to run into the person that has been the focus of his dreams.

Rubber Ducks by earthphoenix E 10K

Dumbledore has had it with the fighting between Sirius Black and Severus Snape. It is time that they come to terms, make amends ... and there is only one way to do it. Make them work together for a common goal. But what could the two possible have in common? Well, it's more than just being magically handcuffed together.

Hell Sweet Hell by Sionna_Raven E 4K

The place behind the Veil may be heaven or hell, maybe neither. All Sirius longs for is company and his wish is granted, when a wounded Severus Snape lands on his doorstep during the final battle.

Better Call It Home by Ailei E 2K

How dare he still be so beautiful? The loathing in Snape's cultured voice forced Sirius into an even smaller ball, pressed him further back into the shadows.

Two Boys Kissing by Writcraft M 6K

Sirius goes to a gay bar and meets the last person he expects. Under cloudy skies, two boys kiss and that one moment comes to define generations of want, need and hope.

An Unlikely Seduction by neevebrody E 4K

"Well, well, Black…aren't frightened of a little déjà vu are we?"  He smacked Sirius' hand away.  "If you had any brains beneath all that mangy hair, you'd know that every touch is agony, spell my clothes away."

Out by cynthia_arrow T 3K

It wasn't possible Severus Snape was actually worth pursuing, was it? And it certainly wasn't possible he actually wanted to be pursued?

In Cruciatu Veritas by Kleio E 14K

Sirius is about to discover that, contrary to the proverb in vino veritas, the truth lies not in wine but in pain. Takes place during the Order of the Phoenix.

Day One series by Kleio M 37K (READ THE TAGS)

"Snape has brought me back from the dead and is holding me prisoner in his house. Sounds mad, I know, but that’s Snape for you. Please hurry, I’m afraid for my life. Or rather, my death. Not to mention my bottom. Just hurry. - Sirius Black"

Shadows Of Light by lindsey_grissom E 47K

Sometimes that which we look for is in the strangest of places, and those that we know are not how they seem. With the war between the Light and Dark drawing near, anything is possible.

Strange Bedfellows by earthphoenix E 21K

Most of this takes place during a small window in time when both Severus Snape and Sirius Black would have been in Azkaban prison together. Can a new friendship survive such a place as Azkaban prison? Can it evolve into something more ... if given the chance?

The Devil-and-All to Pay by Leela E 6K

Albus Dumbledore is mad. Severus is sure of it, when the old man sends him to persuade Sirius Black to come back to England and let the Order use his family home as headquarters. The problem, as always, is that Severus cannot say no.

Potion Master’s Pet by blackbludger E 6K

After the defeat of Voldemort, Sirius Black is forced to move into Snape’s abandoned quarters.

Plus c’est la Meme Chose by Scaranda M 8K

Sirius and Severus find themselves cloistered together for ten days with only the hapless Lupin as referee. Not all of them stay the course.

Not Quite Good Enough to Be Going On With by white_serpent E 5K

Two men, a truth potion, and a locked room. Chaos ensued.

Love Potion HP by Tavalya_Ra T 46K

Severus Snape and Sirius Black have always shared a strong mutual hatred, but never before have they been obsessed with each other. Whether it's love or lust, they're both disgusted by it. Someone's playing cupid, but is it fate, Dumbledore, or Voldemort? 

Harry Potter and the Ten Years of All Hallow’s Eve by TheRogueHuntress T 7K

What if Lily and Snape reconciled before she died? What if both Sirius and Severus were Harry's Godfathers? And what if both were chosen to look after baby Harry once his parents had been murdered?Life As We Know It Harry Potter style, retold over 10 Halloweens, starting with 31st October 1981.

Think of him as a therapy dog by SabineMichaelis T 10K

(WIP BUT its not a cliffhanger trust me) Sirius is out of Azkaban and in hiding, but has no place to live until Grimmauld place is made habitable. Dumbledore notices that Severus lives alone and has plenty of space for a dog, even if he really doesn't want one.

#sirius x snape #snirius #snirius fic #snirius fics #ficrecdays #snirius fic recs #snack fic recs #snack fics #hp #sirius x severus #snack hp