#amazingly transfixing words

[mournfulroses]

Carlos Drummond de Andrade, tr. by Elizabeth Bishop, from "The Table,"

[eeveebitches]

movie. || Roman Roy || smut

Pairing: Sub!Roman Roy x F!Reader

Summary: Roman wants you to stop watching a movie and pay attention to him, so he goes about it the best way he can think of.

Word count: 1.812

18+ only! More under the cut

Warning(s): SMUT, aka 18+ only! Sub Roman, oral sex (f receiving) praise kink, coming untouched/in pants

A/n: based on a request i got!! tysm for the inspo :)) my requests are also still open!

_______________________

You're watching a movie when he comes in.

Grin wide, eyes tired and hair messed up beyond relief. He jingles the spare keys you gave him in the air, spotting you on the couch. "Got in with our key," he says matter-of-factly as he throws his shoes off, walking over to you.

Ever since you gave Roman a spare key to your home, he's been visiting you with no warning. It's not the fact that he was growing co-dependent on your time that piqued your interest, though. It's always been how he refers to the key.

He used to just say 'the spare key', clearly tense as he struggled to find comfort in his intrusion. Then it became 'your key', which he said with the tiniest smile. When he started calling it 'my key' you would fight back a grin. He was clearly indulging himself with this.

What the implication of this new 'our key' situation is, you have no idea. Better to keep it unspoken, like you two usually do.

"What're you doing?" You only look away from the screen for a second to watch him walk over to you, before returning your attention to the screen. "Watching a movie," you tell him rather dryly. He lets out a huff, plopping himself next to you on the couch. "Well, I'm here now, so screw your movie." 

His hand shoots to snatch the TV remote away from you, but before he can do so, you yank it away. "The movie is almost done, just watch it with me or something," you mumble out, transfixed on the riveting plot in front of you.

"So what, your shitty B-roll movie trumps quality time with the number one bachelor of America?" You don't even respond this time, you simply keep your eyes on the movie. Roman groans, head dramatically falling back as he stares up into the ceiling. "What am I even supposed to do while you melt your brain with numbing media consumption?"

Again, no reply. Just a meager shrug. 

Roman, at first, wants to glare at you. Maybe smack your arm, then go to your kitchen and purposefully make a shit ton of noise, so you're forced to stand up and pay attention to him. But as he stares at you, he can't help but notice a small amount of red lace peaking from under your sweatpants.

Then a much better idea to get your attention pops up.

Wordlessly, he removes himself from the couch and instead kneels down in front of you, hands awkwardly resting on your thighs as he stares up at you. "Uhh, what're you doing, Romes?"

"G'na eat you out," he plainly tells you, lips twitching up into a smirk. "Roman, have you ever given anyone head?"

He shrugs, hands slowly pulling your sweatpants down. You do wanna finish this movie, but you're also curious to see where this goes, so you help him by slightly lifting yourself up, so he can properly remove them. "No, but I'm like Leonardo Davinci, naturally talented and amazingly hot. I can do this easily," he states with confidence that is clearly a facade.

Roman's pupils are dilated as he stares at your lacy red panties. His hands shake as he pushes your legs apart, giving him better access. You hum with intrigue, giving his hair a quick pet before yet again focusing yourself on the movie. "Whatever you say, Davinci."

You weren't expecting him to start out with a kiss atop of your underwear. It's awkward, yet sweet, which you reward with another stroke of his hair. The air is tense as he slowly moves your panties to the side, and ever-so-slowly, he dips in.

With a sharpened tongue he experimentally licks the inside of your folds. You shiver at the sensation, keeping your hand casually rested on his head. For a moment there's nothing, before Roman's head turns up to look at you.

You flush at the sight of him looking up from you like that, eyes wide and unknowing as he's kneeling in between your thighs. His obedience is like second nature to him, and in moments like these you revel in it.

"Can you, like, give me a tiny hint on what to do? Or else I'm just gonna bite your clit off," he huffs, face already reddened.

"Try flattening your tongue a bit, for one. Just take your time, Romes."

And that he does.

Carefully, he laps at your folds. Places his hands back on your thighs, keeping them open as his eyes flutter shut. Just as suddenly as he got on his knees for you, he places his entire mouth on you, roughly sucking on your cunt. You gasp at the sensation, hand clutching at his hair as he suctions onto you.

The groan he lets out as he tastes you is guttural, like he was a man starved and you were his last supper. As he removes himself from you with a sinful 'pop', he lets out an airy laugh. "Jesus, this is, uh... fuck," he whispers out before delving right back in, madly licking and sucking wherever he can reach.

He can't stop himself from letting one of his hands drop from your thighs, using it to palm at his growing hardness. "Shit Romes, you're doing good," you groan, struggling to pay attention to the movie when Roman's tongue is a single movement away from circling your clit.

"Only f'r you," he desperately gasps out, only taking a second to get air back before focusing his full attention on the small bundle of nerves he's finally located. He isn't as hesitant as you would've thought he'd be-- he wastes no time roughly sucking on your clit, shamelessly moaning as he feels you twitch and writhe from his touch.

"Fuck, you're doing so good baby, keep doing that." You grab a handful of his hair and forcefully pull him closer. He moans pathetically at the movement, at the way he's suffocating in your juices. 

The wet noises he's making are absolutely sinful, and if it wasn't for his relentless mouth you would've joked about his eating manners. His mouth and nose are shiny with your wetness, and he pays it no mind, drilling his tongue inside of you without a care in the world. "W'na please you," he moans against you, his own hips stuttering as he stops palming himself, cock painfully restrained in his dress pants.

"You're such a good boy for me, Roman, you're doing so fucking good." His eyes screw shut as he groans against your clit, the vibrations leaving you to gasp for air. It's all just too much, the pleasure combined with the desperate noises he's letting out sending you into cloud nine.

He whines at your every noise and your every word. It's like his heart is going to burst out of his chest, and when you yank at his hair he can't hold himself back. With a muffled groan he releases his load, only slightly faltering in his pace before continuing to practically torture your pussy.

"My sweet pup, eating me out so well, so proud of you," you moan with a fistful of his hair in your hand, only half-aware of Roman's own predicament. Your words of praise alone are overstimulating, but he can't stop himself from lapping up your juices.

He pulls away for a moment, gasping for air as he looks at you, face glistening.  "You're so fucking wet, I just w'na live here," he groans out, before roughly sucking on your clit.

You don't know if it's the hungry moans he keeps letting out or the blinding pleasure he's giving you that pushes you over the edge. Thousands of blinding white stars cover your vision as your entire body stiffens, a gargled moan escaping your throat as you push Roman's entire face into you one last time. 

He moans against your slick cunt, weakly lapping at you as you slowly come down. Even when you whine at the overstimulation of it all, he keeps at it, tongue busying itself with cleaning you up. For a moment you think you can even hear him gulp, whining as you try to pry him off of you.

Reluctantly, he pulls away, carrying a serene expression. With lidded eyes he looks up at you, and the question he asks almost makes you cum again on the spot.

"Did I do good for you?"

You let out an airy chuckle. "Yeah, you did."

Roman groans as he stands up, and only now you see the dark stain at the front of his pants. "Oh my god, did you?--"

"Shut up, yes." You giggle as he awkwardly stands up to place a small kiss on your lips. Your hand shoots to grab the back of his neck, deepening the kiss, and you hum as you taste yourself on his tongue. He moans into your mouth, a sound you happily swallow before pulling away. "You did very good, Roman. Didn't realize you're a total perv for giving oral," you hum out as he waddles yo your bathroom. 

"And I didn't realize you were a total slut for it," he retorts, keeping the bathroom door open as you hear him shuffling out of his pants. "Where's my shit?" 

You pull your panties up, but simply remove your sweatpants, before walking over to your bedroom and quickly fishing out a fresh pair of pants, a shirt and some boxers for him. The amount of times he's made someone drop off fresh clothes for him to your apartment has caused an influx of items for him to wear when he's with you.

With a light grin you walk towards the bathroom, handing Roman his things as you sit on the closed toilet seat. "I'm happy you were able to enjoy yourself, too."

Roman shrugs. "Yeah, I mean, I ruined my fucking pants, but it was also fucking hot." 

"You win some, you lose some," you hum as you watch him remove his blouse and replace it with the shirt. "You should definitely let me do that again, by the way. Just-- ask whenever you want a real man to make you cum," he mumbles out, avoiding the eye contact you're trying to make with the mirror he's in front of. 

"You're just saying that because you're a total pussy-loving freak, aren't you?" He groans at your words as he finishes dressing himself, walking out of the bathroom with you in tow. You chuckle at the TV-- the credits are rolling. "Can you please not say kinky shit to me, my dick is in recovery mode right now, thanks."

The two of you plop onto the couch, legs tangling as you grab the remote and put on a show the two of you usually watch together. "Seriously though," Roman suddenly pipes up,

"you taste really good."

[clevereverest]

Careful • 1,951 words

[ Finch and Albert make out, but a level of vulnerability is accidentally breached.

This is a little spicy tbh BUT there’s no sex. They’re asexual and they were never going to go to that point, even though I don’t mention it. I hope you enjoy it! ]

Finch sat on the edge of his bed, the side closer to where his desk was under the window. He’d been browsing his phone mindlessly, procrastinating his school work, but even that grew boring after about fifteen minutes. He put it to sleep and placed it on his bedside table, then proceeded to fall backwards onto the mattress. 

“I don’t want to do anything,” he groaned, staring at the painted ceiling of a starry sky above him. 

“I’m sure,” Albert, Finch’s boyfriend of three and a half months, replied with a light laugh. He was over at the desk already, their laptops sitting beside each other and still shut. Like Finch, Albert hadn’t started working on anything either. 

“You make it sound like you weren’t procrastinating too,” Finch remarked. He heard movement as Albert approached, and added, “You were on your phone for as long as I was.” 

Albert conceded the point with a nod and sat beside Finch on the bed. Finch, still laying on his back, smiled brightly up at Albert — the greatest partner ever, in his humble opinion. 

They had a thing where Albert would say that he “always wants to be careful” with Finch, because he didn’t want to lose him. It was amazingly sweet, and Finch loved the sentiment. In return, Finch made sure to be someone that Albert could talk to about anything, and gently prodded Albert to open up more often. It seemed to be working out well and only improved as the days went on. 

For his first ever boyfriend, Finch was pretty sure he struck pure gold. 

“I would like to do something,” Albert said suddenly. 

His eyes were transfixed on Finch, a common habit that Finch had come to recognize over the course of their relationship. Albert just liked to watch him occasionally, no matter what he was doing, and Finch didn’t mind in the slightest. Assessing the gaze now, there was something a little deeper than innocent or idle observation, but Finch couldn’t pin it down yet. 

“Like what?” Finch prompted, his voice lowering in volume under Albert’s attention. 

Albert rested a hand on Finch’s cheek, caressing his thumb over the plane of it with a smile of his own. “Can I please kiss you?” 

Finch nodded immediately. He leaned into his partner’s warm hand and simultaneously tipped his chin up to meet Albert’s lips sooner. His hands traveled up to hold the back of Albert’s neck and waist while they kissed. It was evident after a couple seconds that this wasn’t just one long kiss, but a make out session. Finch was excited about that, and managed to pull Albert even closer. 

In doing so, Albert deepened the kiss. His free hand roamed until it found the bottom edge of Finch’s shirt, and slipped under it to brush over Finch’s side. Gasping quietly into the kiss, Finch felt lost and vaguely dazed all of a sudden. Albert leaned back to speak. 

“Is this okay, Fi?” He checked, remaining painfully still until Finch answered him. 

“Yes, it’s good,” Finch said in a rush. He was breathless enough for his boyfriend to notice and faintly smirk at. With a boost of confidence, Finch tugged at the hem of Albert’s shirt. “Take this off?” 

That smirk was clear as day now. “Anything for you, bub.” 

Finch practically melted at the nickname (he always did) and lifted off Albert’s t-shirt to reveal the beautifully toned body beneath it. He took the time to admire it all again, then let his hands move freely over Albert’s bare torso and tattooed arms while they resumed making out. Albert did almost the same thing, except he was just slowly pushing Finch’s shirt up — after a minute or two, he hadn’t asked about it. Finch was getting impatient. 

He carefully twisted out of the kiss, surprising Albert. Before his boyfriend could say anything, Finch blurted out, “Take it off already.” 

It seemed like Albert had been waiting for permission, and having gotten it, he did as he was told. Finch propped himself up while Albert removed the shirt, leaving both partners shirtless now. Albert also took a handful of moments to openly admire Finch, who blushed and tried to look away to hide it. He wasn’t necessarily self-conscious, it was more of a habit that he wasn’t overly fond of at first, but the reaction it got from his partner was worth it. 

“Hey, show me that pretty face,” Albert requested. He used two fingers to lightly push Finch’s chin back towards him so they could look each other in the eye. “That’s better.” 

Finch needed to kiss this handsome man again. Albert deserved it for how absolutely perfect he was. Taking control, Finch directed Albert to hold Finch’s sides while simultaneously pulling him closer for a searing kiss. As to be expected, Albert reciprocated, smirking at Finch’s eagerness. The couple was back to making out, and Finch barely registered when Albert shifted to straddle him, effectively pinning him to the mattress. 

Eventually, Albert broke the kiss — Finch drew in a long breath of air, unaware that he even needed the pause — and switched to kiss along Finch’s cheek and the bridge of his nose instead. Finch grinned, still processing every point of contact between his body and Albert’s, who was so much warmer and so present. By comparison, Finch tried to maintain his breathing while losing a fight to bliss. 

Albert’s kisses trailed along Finch’s jaw and reached the edge of his lips, but Finch tipped his head back slightly to avoid reconnecting there. Somehow, he managed to string together, “No, not yet. Keep going.” 

Having acted on a whim, he wasn’t entirely sure what he wanted his boyfriend to do. The line of reasoning there was nonexistent. Finch was clocking out from the overwhelming sensations of this make out session — easily the most passionate one they’d had so far. Regardless, Albert seemed to understand and avoided Finch’s lips. Finishing the trail on Finch’s jaw, Albert took the next rational step: lower down, to Finch’s neck. 

For being pleasantly dazed, Finch was okay with this for a grand total of four seconds before his mind caught up and realized what was happening. 

Finch jolted underneath Albert, his breath hitching in a sudden, blind panic. Naturally, Albert reeled back in a flash, his eyes wide and expression fearful. 

“Fuck, I’m so sorry, Fi, did I hurt you or something —?” Albert spoke in a rush, somewhat panicky himself, a byproduct of Finch’s reaction. He even went as far as trying to climb off Finch’s torso, but Finch held him in place. 

“No, no, you can stay. It’s okay, I’m okay,” Finch quickly reassured in urging. He wanted his partner’s steadfast presence to stay right where it was, especially while he was coming down from his brief show of unfiltered fear. 

The couple lapsed into silence. Finch, still laid flat on his back, waited for his heart rate to return to normal with closed eyes and deep breaths. He’d unconsciously grabbed Albert’s hands and held them over his ribcage, and Albert tentatively rubbed Finch’s knuckles to further soothe him. 

“I’m really sorry for killing the mood.” Finch kept his eyes shut as he whispered the apology to his boyfriend. 

“Don’t be sorry for being scared,” Albert said, his tone soft. “I’m really sorry for not being more careful. I should’ve asked first, and I didn’t, so I now feel like a total asshole —” 

“Sweetheart, please,” Finch gently interrupted. He looked up at his boyfriend. “We’re both kind of to blame here because we haven’t discussed all of our boundaries yet, at least on my end.” 

Albert nodded in agreement. “You’re right.” A pause, and he dropped eye contact. “So you clearly don’t like neck kisses.” 

Finch gave his answer some thought. “Technically, it felt really good for a few seconds, but then I remembered my immense fear of… things — for lack of a better term — near or touching my neck, but my throat specifically is the real problem.” 

“Why is that?” Albert asked. 

“It’s an extremely vulnerable spot on the body,” Finch explained matter-of-factly. “The skin of the throat is thin, and if too much breaks or pierces the skin, you’d just bleed out. If the right amount of —” 

“Woah, that’s grim —” 

“— pressure on your windpipe, then you’re completely cut off from oxygen —” 

“Fi, hang on —” 

“— meaning you might pass out or you could die from that too.” 

Upon seeing Albert’s worried expression, Finch awkwardly cleared his throat, far more self-conscious now. “There’s more,” he added quietly, but before Albert could stop him, Finch rambled on, “but I won’t say it because I know how this makes me sound and I should just shut up because the mood is beyond dead. I am so sorry, Al.” 

His eyes were closed again. If he was able to, Finch would’ve gotten up from his bed, but as it stood, Albert was still straddling him. And if Finch was being honest, he didn’t want his partner to move yet. What he really wanted was to go back in time by about two minutes and direct Albert’s kisses down to his shoulder or collarbone — literally anywhere past his neck. He wondered how hard it would be to request for Albert to act like this entire conversation never happened and just kiss him again, just distract him from the stupid fear he has that ruined a perfectly good make out session —

“Adrian.” 

The use of his real name pulled Finch out of his mental spiral. He returned to the searching green eyes of Albert, who offered a satisfied smile when Finch actually focused on him. 

“Thank you for telling me about your fear,” Albert said earnestly. “I didn’t know it scared you so much, and I will not, under any circumstances, kiss your neck or throat going forward. I promise to be careful with you.” 

A small smile pulled at the corners of Finch’s mouth. “Because you don’t want to lose me.” 

“Because I don’t want to lose you,” Albert echoed sweetly, squeezing Finch’s hands and leaning down to lightly kiss his forehead. “I never want to do something that scares you.” 

Finch’s automatic response was going to be ‘And I love you for that’ but he managed to say something else lovingly appreciative before those three words slipped out. They’d only been dating for three and a half months, and while he’d never had a boyfriend before, Finch had a strong feeling that saying ‘I love you’ right now was too soon. (Even if it was true already.) 

Deeming the conversation a success, Finch aimed to redirect it. He said, “Can we get back to making out, or…?” 

“Of course we can,” Albert agreed immediately, and they released their hands to hold each other in other places. “Where do you want me, bub?” 

Just with one little nickname, Finch was melting again. He reached up to pull Albert back to his lips, and they kissed like that for a while before Finch got a great idea. He slowly leaned up, still locked against Albert, and effortlessly maneuvered their positions. Once they were situated, Albert was the one laying on the mattress whereas Finch straddled him instead, and they broke apart for air. 

“That was pretty smooth,” Albert commended, short of breath and the most attractive Finch had ever seen him. 

“Oh, I know, sweetheart,” Finch quipped with a grin, his cheeks flushed pink. He traced over his partner’s bare chest, causing Albert to squirm a bit, and Finch’s grin grew wider. “Can I kiss you here?” 

“Please,” was the simple permission that Finch received, and he eagerly leaned down to do just that.

[ My AO3 Dashboard • Sept. 9: On AO3! ]

[musicarenagh]

Cristina Noujaim Talks About Latest Single 'I Should've Said No' Cristina Noujaim must be proud of herself, with this latest single of hers, "I Should've Said No," she displays a very high artistic depth and a wonderful mastery of music. After an excruciating three-year production process, Noujaim has crafted a mesmerizing auditory experience which is difficult to categorize into a single genre. While 150 various vocal parts play in a complicated combination, this illustrates her exceptional talent as a musical narrator and requires that listeners would listen from the beginning to the end being transfixed by the story. Just as Noujaim has done since the very beginning, the song flows the raw emotional intensity that underlines its capturing delving into the human relationship intricacies as well as the pain caused by words left unsaid. Every chord conveys truthfulness, as it takes us on an interior voyage of self-questioning and sorrow. Noujaim's vocals are just amazingly beautiful. This is performed effortlessly by her as far as the shifting emotional dynamics of the piece are concerned. Her talent to transfer feelings by voice is unsurpassed, evoking genuine empathy and understanding in the listener. Speaking about the inspiration behind the single, Noujaim shares, "'I Should've Said No' is a reflection of the complexities of human relationships and the consequences of not listening to ourselves. It's a deeply personal piece, as all my music is. My hope is that listeners will feel the same heart-wrenching retrospectiveness I felt while writing the song." As she continues to evolve as an artist, Noujaim's journey is marked by her genuine passion for music and a desire to connect with her audience. "Truly the most incredible feeling in the world is knowing that other people listen to my music. I’m so grateful for every person who hears my songs and wants to listen again." With her first EP, Atlas, set to release this November, and marriage in September, it's going to be a busy yet exciting year for Noujaim. More of this was shared during a recent interview with Mister Styx of Musicarenagh, so join us as we discover more about this multi-talented artist Listen to I Should've Said No below https://open.spotify.com/track/3tvRHgJGTXVxcG5rWs32hN Follow Cristina Noujaim on Spotify Instagram What is your stage name? I don’t have one - Cristina Noujaim is my given name. Is there a story behind your stage name? Nope! Where do you find inspiration? Funnily enough, these days it’s my old journals. I’m emotionally doing really well, so when I have creative days I like to go through my old journals or notes and really zoom in on a feeling. What was the role of music in the early years of your life? I have been singing since I came out of the womb. It’s funny, my sister and I recently found a video of me at 9 months old, with her teaching me how to play piano. Since then I’ve tried every kind of music imaginable — I’ve trained in opera, songwriting, music producing, musical theater, orchestra, and probably more. But for the last decade, I’ve found the most inspiration from producing music, so that’s where I’m leaning in. Are you from a musical or artistic family? Surprisingly, no. I’m the only artist or musician in my immediate family, though every member of my family loves music. Who inspired you to be a part of the music industry? I’m honestly glad to *not* be a part of the music industry. My full time job is at Meta, where I work as a Machine Learning Engineer. The best part is getting to come home, write and make music, and then share that music with my coworkers over lunch. It’s actually really great to live in both worlds. How did you learn to sing/write/to play? I learned to sing through opera. I found a voice teacher, Kathryn Amyotte, who called my voice “raw lasagna” when we first started working together (I was 11). Sometimes I think of her, and hope she thinks it’s cooked. [caption id="attachment_55236" align="alignnone" width="1333"] I learned to sing through opera.[/caption]

What was the first concert that you ever went to and who did you see perform? I was 11, and my family and I drove to Hershey Park in Pennsylvania to see the Jonas Brothers and Demi Lovato on the Camp Rock 2 tour. It was awesome. How could you describe your music? The best way I can describe my music is vocal indie pop. My favorite thing to do is create vocal harmonies, and my co-writers and production clients will always have to rein me in from adding too many layers. With my own music, I simply go all in, and you can hear that in my new EP, Atlas. Describe your creative process. I write when I feel something intense, basically immediately as the feeling starts. Usually I write down whatever I can and then call my co-writer, Liz Bissonette. What is your main inspiration? Right now, my main inspiration is RAYE, who just makes the most incredible jazz-pop-hiphop-r&b mishmash. Her vocals are impeccable and I think about her live performances regularly when I’m planning my own. What musician do you admire most and why? Taylor Swift. She writes the most incredible, poetic, life-changing lyrics and somehow it’s still a pop song. Did your style evolve since the beginning of your career? Yes. I started strictly as a singer-songwriter, but as I gain production skills, I’m able to expand my music so much into new genres. Who do you see as your main competitor? If I had to choose, the artist who makes music most like me is Ariana Grande, in the way that she stacks her vocals. However, no one can compete with her voice, I mean come on. What are your interests outside of music? Obviously I love engineering, but most of the time when I’m not writing or working I’m playing with my corgi, Cheddar. If it wasn't a music career, what would you be doing? I think I’d still have to do something outside of engineering, so I’d probably be a painter. I’m pretty mediocre at it, but I love it so much. What is the biggest problem you have encountered in the journey of music? Translating my vision into real life. I can hear songs in my head, but sometimes I don’t know how to put that into exact words or find instruments that fit the theme sonically. A lot of my production journey is learning how to fill those mental gaps. https://open.spotify.com/artist/2IQEUO2RCTYvDRSuEvaOOE?si=bu52oI5lSqWNH6N2C7zr4g If you could change one thing in the music industry, what would it be? I wish as musicians we could just release music, and not have to be content creators. I love music for the sake of music, but it’s important to also be heard. Why did you choose this as the title of this project? I Should’ve Said No is about the regret of impulsive decision making and people pleasing. “I should have said no” was such a consistent intrusive thought during the time I was writing this song, so it fit perfectly as the title. What are your plans for the coming months? My first EP Atlas releases this November. I’m getting married in September (!!!!!) so it’s going to be a busy year. Do you have any artistic collaboration plans Everyone knows how much I work with Liz Bissonette, but I have a few other incredible artists you’ll be hearing me with soon. What message would you like to give to your fans? Truly the most incredible feeling in the world is knowing that other people listen to my music. I’m so grateful for every person who hears my songs and wants to listen again.

[harrysfinelinevol1]

the flatshare in london pt.2

harry styles x reader

summary: you live in a flatshare with sarah and two other girls in london in 2017. through your insistence to get sarah's talent more widely recognised, you meet a man who will change your life forever

word count: 8.9k

warnings: smut

part 1!

-

Heavy breathing filled the room as Harry slowly rocked into you, his head tucked into your neck while you raked your nails up and down his back. It was the morning and Harry had woken you up with wandering hands and gentle kisses. The sunlight seeping through the windows highlighted your entangled bodies as you had slow, lazy morning sex.

You knew you were far gone for this man now. Usually, you wouldn't hang around in the morning after a one-night stand, let alone have sex with the person again but here you were, moaning out Harry's name as he carefully thrust into you. You adored the feeling of being in his arms and his breath hot on your face. You had slept amazingly in his hold, snuggled into his side for the whole night. You didn't think you would have the strength to pull yourself away from this man's clutch.

"You're so fucking pretty," he gasped as he continued to push into you, stretching you out in the best way. You gripped onto his shoulders tightly, turning your head slightly to suck on the soft skin of his neck, leaving a nice big purple mark. He groaned loudly at the sensation and sped up slightly, bringing his hand up to cup your breast, running his thumb across your hardened nipple.

Soon both of you had reached your orgasms, holding each other tight as pleasure rushed through your bodies, Harry pulsing inside your clenching walls. You collapsed next to each as Harry pulled off the condom, throwing it in the bin on top of the one he'd used last night. Your chest was slightly shining with sweat, your hair a mess and your makeup was quite smudged but Harry thought you looked beautiful lying there in his sheets, freshly fucked, trying to slow your breathing.

His eyes stayed transfixed on your figure as you got out of bed to go to the bathroom, your hips swaying slightly as you walked off. You were a vision in his eyes and he couldn't get enough of you. He wanted you back in his bed already and you'd only been out of it for mere seconds.

He's disappointed when he hears the shower running, annoyed he hasn't been invited as well. Jumping out of bed quickly, he walks into his bathroom where he can make out your figure through the fogged-up glass of the shower. You looked exquisite.

"Didn't say you could use my shower," he teased as he joined you under the hot water, wrapping his tattooed arms around your waist and pulling you into him. You whirled around quickly, however, cursing yourself because you hadn't actually asked.

"Shit, I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking, was on autopilot," you explained sheepishly but when you saw the expression on his face you realised he wasn't serious.

"Don't worry love, was only teasing," he chuckled and you huffed slightly before turning back around, but still leaning back into him. You sighed as he took the sponge from your hands and carefully washed your back, taking his time to explore every curve of your body. As he washed you, you were quietly freaking out slightly. This was very intimate and you knew you had never done this before with a hookup. Harry was different.

You took turns washing each other, Harry humming slightly under his breath as he massaged soap into your scalp. It was a nice tune that he was humming but you didn't think you had heard the song before. You wondered if it was a new song of his and your heart started to beat even more at the thought of that. You needed to call Sarah. ASAP.

You finished washing, and you quickly darted out of the shower, wrapping yourself in a towel so you could go get your phone. Harry frowned as your sudden departure but didn't think much of it as he leisurely took his time going through his morning routine.

You, on the other hand, were freaking out massively. You felt like you had started something that definitely wasn't going to be a one-time thing. You had opened the floodgates so to say. You picked up your phone and quickly scrolled to Sarah's contact, pressing it and begging that she would pick up. Luckily she answered quite fast.

"Hey babes," she said rather breathlessly.

"Sarah, where are you?" you asked urgently.

"Woah, you ok?" concern was lacing her voice and you realised you had made it seem like you were actually in trouble.

"Sorry, yeah I'm ok but an emergency brunch is needed ASAP," you told her. Emergency brunch was a regular thing between the two of you and it usually involved you imparting tales of your crazy night out to Sarah while she rolled her eyes and you both consumed too many mimosas. She always had good advice for you though and you really needed that right now. What you weren't expecting was her reply.

"Yes, I was literally about to call you. I think I need an emergency brunch," she mumbled quietly and your mouth fell open in shock.

"Sarah Jones, what have you been up to?" you gasped in mock indignation and she giggled slightly. Sarah's giggle usually meant one of two things. Either, you had done something really silly to make her laugh or she had a secret concerning a man.

"Get your arse to brunch and I'll tell you," she responded cheekily and you started scanning Harry's floor for your clothes.

"On my way! Meet at the usual spot yeah?" you checked and she agreed. You hung up and then started pulling on your clothes from last night, cringing a bit at having to wear the same outfit you wore to the sweaty pub. Also, your outfit was definitely going to make it obvious you were doing a walk of shame.

"Going somewhere?" Harry queried, raising an eyebrow as he watched you button up your top. He didn't look very impressed.

"Oh yeah, I'm sorry Harry, Sarah called and she needs me," you explained, feeling horrible about basically running out on this man. However, his brow relaxed a bit when you explained your reasoning for leaving.

"I suppose I can let that slide," he teased and you scoffed slightly. He saw the outfit you were leaving in and turned quickly to his closet, pulling out an old but fashionable jumper.

"Here, I can't let you walk around London in just that," he offered, holding out the jumper to you.

"Oh... um, thank you very much," you said as you pulled the sweater over your head, suddenly overwhelmed by Harry's scent.

"Can I see you again?"

You were very taken aback when those words left his mouth. You didn't really know what to say. You were trying to weigh up the pros and cons in your head but also very aware you were just standing there not saying anything. Deciding that even if you didn't want to, inevitably you would run into Harry again, so you nodded quickly, breathing out a rushed 'yes'. He smiled at your acceptance of him and let out a secret breath he'd been holding.

"Here, take my number," he told you, holding out his phone so you could put in your contact details. Smiling shyly, you took the phone from him, adding yourself to his contacts before calling yourself so you had his number.

"You're blushing," he noted, smirking at your flushed features. You smacked him lightly on the shoulder.

"I'm nervous."

"Don't be love. M'not going to eat you," he teased. "Well, I mean you are pretty delectable but not in that way."

You shook your head in disappointment at his poor joke.

"You're ruining your chances babe," you quipped, handing his phone back to him as his mouth fell open in mock indignation.

"Am not. I'm very funny,"

"Keep telling yourself that one," you replied as you headed to his bedroom door and he followed you, hot on your heels. You could feel him watching you intensely as you stood by his door, slipping your shoes on. You felt very nervous under his gaze but he soon came to your side, sliding his hands around your waist to settle them on your bum while your arms instinctively came up to wrap around his neck. He glanced at your lips briefly before leaning down and capturing them with his, slowly moving his mouth against yours. You both spent too long in his entry hall, just kissing and your heart was pounding with the intimacy of it all.

Eventually, you pulled away, all too aware Sarah was waiting for you and you needed to get a move on. He caressed your face slightly before moving back from you, both of you not too sure what to say. You had both experienced something deep and intimate for the last 12 hours but now you had no idea what to say to each other.

"Thank you," you spoke up and he furrowed his brow.

"What for?"

"A very good night. Probably one of my best," you told him candidly before standing on your tiptoes to give him a kiss on the cheek. He looked very taken aback by your honesty.

"You're something else love," he whispered before kissing you again, peppering kisses all over your face making you giggle.

"Harryyy, I'm gonna be late!" you whined through your giggles. He stopped and pressed a kiss to your nose which had you scrunching up your face before he bid you goodbye.

You smiled to yourself as the door shut behind you, mind whirling as you began to process the events of the night before. You briskly walked to the tube station, trying to hold off the urge to smoke as you went. You must have looked insane on the tube, mumbling to yourself as you tried to figure out what the hell was happening. By the time you reached Sarah, you were on your 4th debate with yourself and you weren't getting anywhere. You were very glad to see your best friend waiting for you beside the quaint brunch restaurant. She pulled you into a hug when you reached her but quickly pulled back.

"You smell of Harry," she stated and you blushed.

"Shut up. I had to borrow his jumper," you tried but she rolled her eyes.

"Oh yes, you just had to," she scoffed.

"Sarah! Please! I'm feeling very sensitive," you told her, faking a sniffle.

"Oh give it up. C'mon, let's go get a table," she said, heading into the crowded restaurant, talking briefly with the waitress who managed to find you both a table outside, overlooking the Thames.

You both lowered yourselves into your seats and as you did, Sarah's polo neck top slipped down a bit and you spotted a deep purple mark on her neck.

"Sarah Jones! Is that a hickey I spy?!" you cried indignantly and she shushed you, turning a very deep shade of red.

"No, I'm interrogating you first. I need a couple drinks before we get to me," she argued back. "And keep your bloody voice down."

You slumped back in your chair, sighing deeply. You didn't know where to start.

"Right, so let's cover the obvious, shall we? You slept with him," she stated knowingly.

"Yes," you mumbled.

"Was it good?"

"Best I've ever had," you told her honestly and she raised her eyebrows.

"Wow. That is something," she sat back, slightly shocked.

"I know."

"So what's the problem? You said the sex was amazing but you don't look very happy. Don't tell me you've gone and fallen in love with him already," she joked but stopped smiling when she saw the look on your face.

"Oh Christ, you're falling aren't you," she realised and you nodded nervously.

"Y/N, seriously? With my boss of all people?!" she retorted and you dipped your head.

"I dunno Sarah we just clicked. And he was so sweet and it was weirdly intimate and now I'm sitting here wearing his fucking jumper and I don't know what to do," you explained apologetically and her anger began to melt away. You understood why she would be annoyed, he was her boss and you had gone and slept with him, so she was being very gracious for the situation you found yourselves in.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have snapped," she apologised. "Do you really like him?"

"I think I do yeah. Or I could definitely see myself really liking him. But I'm so scared. Like his world is miles away from mine and we're so different. I'm impulsive and spontaneous and he's organised and structured, I do stupid shit and mess around a lot and he seems so mature and put together. I'm not like that. I don't think we'd end up working out."

"Or maybe you would," she counteracted and you raised your eyebrows. "Well, to be honest, and I do love you when I say this, but your craziness and impulsiveness can let you down sometimes. And while Harry is organised and structured, it usually means he's got a rod up his arse and it's bloody annoying for everyone around him. So maybe, you'll help each other out by being so different. You might make him less of a control freak and he might calm you down a bit. They do say opposites attract."

"Since when were you such a fan of this," you mumbled, sipping on a mimosa that had just been placed in front of you.

"Since about 10 seconds ago when you were talking about him and your eyes just lit up. I've never seen you talk about someone the way you talk about him," she explained and you groaned out loud.

"This feels like it's going too fast S. I mean I only properly met the man 12 hours ago and I'm already at brunch with you, discussing a potential relationship with him," you pointed out.

"They do say when you know, you know," she replied shyly as if the words she was saying had a double meaning.

"Have you got something to tell me?" you inquired, raising your eyebrows as she blushed. "May this thing pertain to a certain Mitchell Rowland by any chance?"

"How do you know his full name?!"

"Social media is a wonderful tool," you explained. "Now spill."

"I may have gone home with him last night," she basically whispered, so quietly you almost didn't catch it but you did and you gasped.

"You did not!"

"I did. We didn't have sex, but.. uh... we did bits as you would say," she admitted, turning extremely red. You on the other hand were beaming.

"Oh Sarah, I do adore you. How was it?"

"It was good. Really good. He was so lovely and he made me feel amazing. Not just... in that way, but like in general. He's so kind and caring and I really like him," she told you shyly.

"I'm really happy for you babe. I think you both would be really good for each other," you approved.

"I think so too," she said, trying to hide a massive grin that was fighting its way onto her face. "God, look at us, smitten for a pair of musicians!"

"We are pathetic," you agreed, laughing. "But that's why you're my best mate. Who else would have emergency brunch with me?"

"Not many people, this is like a full-time occupation sometimes."

"Rude."

-

"The slags are back!" your flatmate Aliyah exclaimed as you and Sarah appeared in the kitchen doorway when you returned from brunch.

"Piss off," you replied, giving her the finger as you walked over to the fridge, craving some cheese on toast.

"Nice jumper," your other flatmate Ellie commented and you glared at her.

"Why am I the sole focus of your attacks," you whined. "Sarah's almost as guilty!"

"Yes but we love our sweet Sarah," Aliyah explained, pulling Sarah into an affectionate hug and patting her head as she giggled. "You on the other hand are annoying and also you slept with fucking Harry Styles!"

"Ok, firstly, I'm so not annoying..." you started but shut up when you saw the looks on their faces. "Fine, but secondly, don't say that. He's just Harry to me," you said quietly blushing and the whole kitchen turned their attention to you.

"Oh god..." Ellie started.

"Has she...?"Aliyah added.

Sarah nodded.

"You would be correct. Our dear little Y/N has a crush on Mr Harry Styles," she giggled and you buried your face in your arms on the kitchen counter.

"Right, debrief in session in 10 minutes. Sarah, you're on tea, Aliyah, crack open that box of Celebrations, no I don't care if you were saving them, this is more important and Y/N sit over there and prepare yourself, I'll finish making your toast," Ellie ordered and you were happy to sit in the corner as the kitchen came alive around you. Even though you were still freaking out slightly at this new development in your life, you were so glad you had this amazing support system around you.

For the next two hours, you all sat in the living room while you recounted what you had told Sarah, leaving out the intimate details of your night with Harry, not wanting to disrespect him in that way. They helped you dissect your feelings and helped you figure out what you were going to do next. You were quite jealous of Sarah. She knew exactly what she wanted with Mitch and she had confidence it would work out. They were so similar and complimented each other so well. You, on the other hand, couldn't be more different to Harry and you were so conflicted about what to do.

The girls eventually convinced you that you should see him again and although you were scared, you agreed. You couldn't deny there had been something real between you and Harry and you knew he was different. You knew you couldn't hold yourself back from something that could be incredible because you were afraid.

You decided to invite him to a barbeque that your flat was having the following day. You still felt too nervous to see him one-on-one so you thought it would be easier to invite him to a group thing. All of your flatmates were inviting one person, and you were going to invite Will but the idea of inviting Harry made your heart skip a beat. Sarah was inviting Mitch so at least Harry would know someone else. Before you had too much time to dwell on it, you sent him a text to invite him.

hey, my flat and i are having a bbq tomorrow and i was wondering if you would like to come? starts at 13:30? x

mitch is coming as well

You sent the texts and quickly shut off your phone, heart pounding. You desperately wanted him to come and you didn't know how you would react if he said no. Luckily you didn't have to wait long because within a minute he had replied.

harry: i would love to come! let me know if there's anything i can bring x

You smiled down at your phone, over the moon that he could come.

"And he's got her smiling at her phone. You're whipped Y/N," Ellie chuckled when she saw your expression. You glared at her.

"You're annoying," you grumbled as you got up to go hide in your room but you knew she was right. You were very happy Harry was coming tomorrow and you got to see him again and you shot him back a quick text.

just yourself will be fine! food and drink will be provided x

That one quick text set off an entire conversation lasting two hours. You talked about yourself, your job and your family as well as your obsession with bagels. He told you about his family also, his time in one direction and his obsession with tacos. You went back and forth for a while, enjoying getting to know each other before you knew you had to go to work to begin setting up for the evening. Saturday's were always busy at the pub so you got there a bit earlier each week to help organise the place. Luckily you had Sunday's off but it meant you had to work your arse off on Saturday's. Therefore you couldn't really text Harry and he spent the rest of the night constantly checking his phone waiting for a text from you to come through. He knew you were working but it didn't stop the disappointment coursing through him when there were no message notifications from you.

Sunday rolled around quickly and you woke up nervous, realising you were going to see Harry today. It was early when you woke up, which wasn't usual for you after a shift at the pub but you knew it was anxiety getting you up. Luckily Sarah was awake and managed to distract you with a trip to Tesco to get stuff for the barbeque. You spent the next hour walking up and down the aisles of the supermarket, piling copious amounts of alcohol and food into the trolley. Sarah spent a good 15 minutes of the trip teasing you for spending a while trying to find a certain brand of vegetarian burgers that Harry had mentioned he liked.

You arrived back home and began to set up your small backyard for the barbeque. You hung up some bunting and cleaned the table and chairs, placing a fun tablecloth on it and some plants in the centre giving it a summery vibe. The others left you to it, knowing out of all of them, you would be able to set up well for the lunch, and also you needed to stay distracted.

It was a beautiful day, with not a cloud in the sky and the strong June sun was beating down on you as you tirelessly created the perfect set-up. Being the mum she always is, Sarah made sure to lather you in suncream, which sent you into a panic that you were going to be covered in it and you would look stupid. Your flatmates all watched with amusement as you ran around the house like a headless chicken, trying to make yourself look good and fretting that something would go wrong.

At 1pm, you pulled on a cute summer dress you had been saving for a special occasion and pulled your hair back into a ponytail before resting some sunglasses atop your head. Your hands shook slightly as you fixed your mascara, butterflies swirling around in your stomach. Suddenly a knock was heard at your door.

"Come in," you called and Sarah poked her head around the door.

"You ok? she asked and you shrugged in response. She pushed the door open and held up two bottles of beer.

"Want one?" You nodded eagerly, needing something to relax you a bit.

"Where's my confident Y/N gone eh?" she inquired as she sat down on your bed, passing you a bottle.

"I have no idea. I've never felt this nervous before," you explained. Harry was really doing a number on you.

"It's cause you really like him," Sarah concluded and you threw your hands up in the air.

"Yeah no shit babes," you chuckled and she giggled too.

"What about you? Excited to see Mitch again," you said, raising your eyebrows suggestively and she hid her face in her hands.

"Stop!" she blushed hard and you nudged her.

"Where's my confident Sarah gone eh?" you mimicked her words from earlier and she glared at you.

"She doesn't exist. Come on, get your arse downstairs, we've got food to prepare," she berated you and with a huff, you hauled ass downstairs where Aliyah put you in charge of making the salad. You wasted away the last half an hour cutting up veg before the door rang. Your heart jumped in your chest as you nervously wiped your hands on a cloth you were fiddling with. You heard Sarah go to the door and open it, and the sounds of male voices down your corridor. You knew it was Mitch and Harry, as Ellie and Aliyah had both invited girls. Ellie gave you a nudge as you nervously peeked into the hallway and locked eyes with Harry again.

He was even more beautiful in the daylight, his hair pushed back by a pair of sunglasses perched on his head, wearing a loose linen shirt and some corduroy shorts. You admired his taste in fashion, it suited him very well and the short sleeved shirt was letting you admire his tanned tattooed arms. You could see his eyes running over your figure, hungrily taking in your curves that were accentuated by the dress you were wearing.

Mitch greeted you first, with a quick hug, still very aware that you were watching him like a hawk. Then the corridor cleared and it was just you and Harry there, staring awkwardly at each other.

"Hello love," he murmured moving towards you to wrap you up in a hug. He pressed a small kiss to your cheek as he did and you felt your face warming up.

"Hi Harry," you replied, leaning into him and calming down slight at the feeling of his arms wrapped around you.

"Want a drink?" you asked as you pulled back from him and he nodded so you led him into the kitchen where you had stored a bunch of beers.

As you opened the fridge and reached in to grab him one he leaned over and whispered in your ear.

"You look very pretty," he complimented and you blushed deeply, giggling slightly as you handed him the drink.

"You look alright I guess," you countered.

"Jeez thanks love, you do know how to charm a guy," he laughed in response and you mock curtsied for him.

"I try."

You easily bantered back and forth as you waited for everyone else to arrive and all the initial awkwardness completely dissipated between the two of you as you fell into an easy conversation. Eventually, Ellie and Aliyah's friends arrived, and after giving them a strict talking to in the hall not to get overexcited at the fact Harry Styles was casually at your Sunday barbeque, you all settled down in your back garden for some food.

Harry quickly settled down in the seat next to you, looping his arm casually around the back of your chair. Everyone gave you a look when he did it but you ignored them all and got stuck into a conversation with Mitch and Sarah about the upcoming tour and rehearsals.

Harry watched in awe again as you began to easily strike up a conversation with people at the table, quickly entertaining them with your charm and wit and he was quite happy to sit back and observe. You were so joyful and excited over everything and it made you a really fun person to be around.

The food was served, with help from Mitch and Harry who took turns manning the barbeque seeing as when you and Ellie tried, you almost set the garden on fire. Cooking wasn't your strong point, to say the least. You were put in charge of making cocktails instead and soon everyone was happily filling themselves with food and getting drunk off your mojitos. The feeling of the sun's rays on your skin, the delicious food, being slightly tipsy and having Harry sit so close felt like heaven. It was perfect in every way.

As everyone got drunker, you and Harry were sharing a few not-so-subtle glances and Harry's hand was now resting firmly on your exposed leg, rubbing it slightly with his thumb. Your leg was tingling where his hand lay but you weren't complaining and made no attempt to move it.

At around 4, after you had all been sitting on uncomfortable wooden chairs for a while, you all decided to move to the local common near your flat to sit and drink for a while. Gathering up the remainders of the alcohol and some snacks as well as a speaker, you all set off to find a secluded spot of grass on the common and set yourselves down there. You all settled under the shade of a tree as you had been properly scorched by the sun at this point and needed some respite.

Harry sat down with his back resting against the tree trunk and when you made a move to sit down near to him, he shook his head and grabbed your hand before you had a chance to sit. He pulled you over to him and sat you down between his legs, with your back against his chest. Sarah gave you a cheeky wink as you settled against him but you didn't care, this was the comfiest you had been all day.

You both participated in the conversation for a bit, nodding your head along to whatever song came on the speaker. However, you began to fall into your own world with Harry, with him whispering away in your ear as you turned your head slightly to look up at him and respond.

"Hm, I could stay like this forever," you mused quietly, your alcohol intake having removed any filter from what you were saying. It was true, however, his hands were rested on your tummy as he held you against him and you would be quite happy to stay like this forever.

"I'd like that," he replied quietly, pressing a small kiss to the top of your head and you smiled at the intimacy of it all. To any passerby, you would probably look like an actual couple the way you were acting.

"Hey Y/N?" he asked tentatively, sounding a bit nervous all of a sudden.

"Yeah?" you responded, absentmindedly fiddling with the rings on his fingers that were clasped together on your stomach.

"Uh... would you like to go on a date?" he stammered, and your heart swelled at the question. You looked up at him and his eyes were full of nerves and anticipation like he was a teenager asking out his first crush. You giggled and nodded quickly.

"I would love to go on a date with you," you accepted and a huge grin worked his way onto his face. Before you knew what was happening, he leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips as he didn't want to pull you into a deep kiss in front of your friends, no matter how much he craved it.

"You're blushing again, it's cute," he pointed out and you hid your face in your hands as he chuckled.

"You make me blush too much," you huffed as he pulled your hands away from your face.

"Don't hide that pretty face from me, love," he teased.

"Stop making me blush then," you countered but he shook his head.

"Never."

-

Harry left after dinner that evening, but not before standing with you on your doorstep for too long, sharing a goodbye kiss where neither of you was willing to let the other go. If Sarah hadn't been coming to take the bins out and dragged you back inside, you would have probably stayed there all evening.

You went to bed very happy that night, dreaming of your date with Harry. You had decided to go out on the following Wednesday when you had a night off work and you were counting down the days.

Harry on the other hand couldn't sleep. He had told you that the date would be a surprise and that he would plan it but he had no idea where to start and his anxiety wasn't helping him think straight. While he was over the moon you had said yes, he wanted to make sure the first date was perfect.

Luckily, that following Monday in rehearsals, Sarah sidled up to him in one of their breaks. One look at her face and he already knew what she was about to talk about.

"Hello Sarah," he sighed as she sat herself down next to him.

"Alright don't look too happy to see me," she retorted and he turned to her with raised brows.

"Something on your mind?"

"I heard you have a date on Wednesday," she grinned knowingly and he blushed, looking at the floor.

"Maybe," he replied, smiling coyly.

"What are you planning? Promise I won't tell," she insisted but Harry's face fell.

"That's the problem, I have no idea where to take her," he worried.

"Well, you must have been on a first date before, what did you do then?"

"I don't know, usually a very fancy restaurant," he replied. Harry had exclusively dated quite famous or well-off people in the past who wanted luxurious and expensive dates but Harry wasn't too sure that was your vibe.

"Ok, well absolutely do not take her to one of those. She would hate it. But you do need to wow her. None of this movie and dinner bullshit, it needs to be fun and exciting. Something unusual," Sarah advised and Harry grinned.

"Thank you. Thank you so much," he said appreciatively, now with a better idea of what to do on your date.

"One more thing," Sarah began, sort of hesitantly. Harry nodded at her to continue.

"Y/N is really one of a kind. And I'm not saying that because I'm her best friend but you will genuinely never meet someone quite like her again. She finds joy in everything and she just loves life. However, it does mean that she ends up in bad situations because she struggles to see the bad in people and people will manipulate her because of just how she is. And yeah, sometimes she's a little crazy because she wants to enjoy herself and she likes to amuse other people and she does need calming down sometimes but do not, and I repeat do not ever try to stop her from being who she is. I've never met anyone who has so much love for everything or someone who can just always be continuously joyful and happy. It's what makes her Y/N and I hope no one ever takes that away from her. So don't you dare do that, got it?" Sarah threatened slightly and Harry had never seen her so passionate about anything before. With wide eyes, he nodded, trying to take in what Sarah had said.

"Sorry, got a bit carried away," Sarah said, shaking her head slightly but Harry stopped her.

"No, thank you. I needed to hear that," he grasped her shoulder gratefully and she nodded at him, before getting up and scurrying back over to Mitch. Harry sat there for a bit trying to process it all. He knew it was early days but he could already see himself becoming infatuated with you. He was addicted to your personality and your looks were almost illegal. Everything about you was perfect and he just wanted to get it right.

-

Wednesday came around quicker than you expected and you spent the whole afternoon freaking out over your upcoming date. Sarah and Mitch, who you had become quite friendly with after you'd stopped death glaring at him, sat in the living room watching you pace back and forth with amusement as you raved and ranted about all the 100s of possibilities and outcomes of this date.

"–like, will I stay over at his after? Does that mean I need a spare set of clothes? But then, does that make me seem too eager, or too presumptuous and what if he doesn't even want me to go home with him or what if he wants to come here and then I've just lugged a load of clothes around London for no reason whatsoever and what if..." you spiralled before Sarah cut you off.

"Jesus Y/N, that is enough! The ranting was amusing at first but my god is it boring now!" she exclaimed, running her hands through her hair in frustration.

"Sarah!" you cried but she shushed you.

"No, babes, you are really overthinking this. Now Harry has told you to wear something casual, so even if you do go back to his, I'm sure you can wear the same thing to come back home in, it will not kill you."

"Yeah but what if..." you started again.

"But what if nothing! Relax babes, please. You and Harry get on so well that I have no doubt in my mind that this date will be amazing. You already text every minute of the day so it's not like you can't talk to each other. You're just creating problems for yourself at this point," she pointed out and you sighed and relaxed your shoulders. She was right.

"I know," you mumbled, flopping down on the couch opposite her. "Just feels like I'm blindly diving into the deep end here and I'm so scared it will go wrong," you explained.

"Y/N, you have always prided yourself on the fact you will and can make the best out of any situation even if there's a good chance it will go wrong. So many things in life always have that what-if scenario. But you know you would regret it if you didn't at least try with Harry, you could sacrifice something amazing," she remarked.

"Where would I be without you Sarah Jones?" you smiled, Sarah's advice was always incredible and she always put you on the right track again.

"Probably jail."

After Sarah had successfully calmed you down, you realised it was 5 and you said you would meet Harry in Soho at 7, leaving you an hour to get ready before you needed to leave. Harry had said to go as casual as you wanted which you were glad about as you didn't have the time to think much about your outfit. It was a hot day in London, too hot for you so you knew it had to be shorts or a skirt or you would probably pass away. Luckily, after a bit of digging, you found a tight white linen skirt you hadn't worn yet and a funky printed shirt, that you had found at a vintage shop in east London. You had been looking for an excuse to wear it but you hadn't found a reason to yet. You knew it was a bit of risk but you liked taking risks with fashion and when you put the outfit on you were pleasantly surprised with how well it all worked out. You left the first three buttons of the shirt undone as a bit of a tease and then matched the outfit with some funky sunglasses and a small blue handbag. You looked cool and you were pretty proud you'd managed to pull it all together so quickly.

Your makeup took a bit longer, mostly because it was hard to keep your hand still enough to do your eyeliner, as it was shaking ever so slightly with nerves. You reemerged downstairs just before 6 where you found your whole flat and Mitch waiting for you to appear. They all squealed when you appeared, all complimenting your outfit and look as well as hyping you up quite a bit. When you had finally managed to escape their grasp and Sarah had finished trying to mum you, you walked out of your flat, feeling quite confident thanks to their help.

You walked leisurely to the tube station, mostly because you had a bit of time and you really didn't want to work up a sweat, even though you knew the minute you stood on the tube that was going to be very difficult as the Underground was a sauna during the summer months. You were listening to your hype playlist on full blast to try and work some of the nervous energy out before you saw Harry.

The Tube predictably was a nightmare and you emerged at Oxford Circus, desperately trying to cool yourself down. Harry had told you to meet him in a secluded park near to the station so you made your way there, trying desperately not to look like a sweaty mess but you weren't sure you were being very successful in that. But then you saw him and most of your stress melted away.

He was leaning against a lamppost on a quiet street in London, wearing some cream linen shorts, a white tank top and a short-sleeved white shirt thrown over that. His eyes were hidden by some big chunky sunglasses but his unmistakable grin revealed it was indeed him. You chuckled as you approached him, realising your outfits were quite similar and you had unintentionally matched.

As you reached him, he moved his arms from behind his back and produced a bouquet of sunflowers. Shocked slightly, as no boy had ever bought you flowers on a first date before, you took them, heart pounding at the gesture.

"I hope you like them. I know I'm probably supposed to buy roses or something like that but I like sunflowers. They're unique and they reminded me of you," Harry said shyly. You almost cried at his kind words but instead, you leaned up and pressed a sweet kiss to his lips, trying to tell him how much you appreciated it.

"Thank you, Harry," you smiled as you pulled back, his face had lit up at your affection. "These are really beautiful."

"You're welcome love," he said, reaching down to grasp your empty hand, entangling his fingers with yours and starting to lead you down the road.

"Where are we going?" you wondered, desperate to find out.

"You'll just have to wait and see," he responded with a cheeky smile and you groaned in frustration.

"I've been trying to figure it out for days! Sarah can keep a secret too well," you huffed and Harry chuckled at you. He had run his date idea past Sarah and she had enthusiastically approved it.

You continued to pester him along the way but he was resolute in not telling you where you were going. Eventually, you had to give up and instead fell into a conversation about his upcoming tour.

"Are you nervous," you asked and he nodded.

"Very. I've never been the sole focus of everyone's attention before and like if I fuck up, I can't hide it behind anything, everyone will notice. Plus I'm debuting my own music, not music that people wanted me to write, music that I wanted to write. It feels personal and vulnerable and the idea of performing is like thrilling but terrifying at the same time," he explained and you nodded along. Listening to Harry talk was always fascinating.

"And then obviously you have those silly fears like what if no one shows up or no one knows the lyrics and it's just a really bad and awkward atmosphere," he continued.

"I'm sure that won't happen. I know people would do anything to see you. I'll come so at least you'll have one person who's there," you said nonchalantly but he whirled around to face you.

"You'll come to a show?!"

"Of course! I'd love to see you play and obviously, I wanna see Sarah perform as well. I was planning on coming to a few," you mumbled the last part but Harry looked overjoyed.

"Really?!"

You laughed at his shocked face. "Yes really, I'll come. I wouldn't miss it for the world!"

"That means a lot," he grinned. "I promise I'll put on a good show for you."

"You bloody better," you chuckled in response and he nudged you affectionately before suddenly stopping outside a building. You looked up and gasped in excitement when you saw where he had bought you. You had arrived outside a place called Swingers, which was an indoor mini-golf place where you could also get drunk off a load of cocktails. You had wanted to come for ages.

"Hope you like mini-golf," Harry laughed seeing the excitement on your face as you nodded eagerly.

"Watch your back Styles, I've got a mean swing," you smirked.

"Good at putting in the hole yeah?" he responded cheekily and you gasped and swatted his shoulder, your face flushing red at his innuendo.

"Careful," you warned. "Or you won't be putting it in any holes," you whispered the last part in his ear and he gulped, his eyes darkening with lust as you smirked at him and pulled him through the door.

Turns out, you sucked at golf and Harry was annoyingly good at it. He beat you by miles, but you had a ton of fun playing. You spent most of the time annoying other people trying to play because you and Harry would spend most of your time on each hole trying to knock each other's balls off the greens and not actually getting them into the holes. This meant each hole took you way too long but you didn't care, you were having way too much fun.

You emerged back on the streets of London at around 9, both lightly tipsy and laughing away as you swayed down the street, Harry pulling you into him, with his arm slung around your shoulders and your arm wrapped tightly around his waist.

"Where to now Rory McIlroy," you teased and he laughed at your little joke.

"Firstly, let's not start changing my name to famous golf players, secondly, it's a surprise. Again. But it does involve food."

"Oh thank god, I'm starving over here," you groaned.

Harry pulled you off the main roads at the point and down a few side streets which were all full of quirky-looking bars and restaurants making you very excited about where he was taking you next. As you turned onto one street, the distinct smell of bagels wafted up the street.

"You didn't!"

"I did. Welcome to the only bagel place open in London this late," he said proudly as you arrived at a small little cafe, which was bustling with people and playing loud music. The key thing, however, was that it serves bagels, your favourite food.

"Harry this is so cool, what the hell!" you gushed as you made your way inside. It was a small little cafe with a couple of tables and a bar where people were either pouring drinks or cooking food. It was pretty busy, with most people gathered near the bar but there was one table free which you quickly nabbed.

"What can I get you, love?" Harry inquired but you shook your head.

"No, it's ok, you paid for the golf, I'm happy to get the food."

"Y/N, please, let me spoil you. I've asked you on this date, so I'm paying," he said firmly and you grinned as you accepted it, realising there was no point in arguing. So you gave him your order and he bustled off to the bar while you sat there, grinning so wide your cheeks were aching. You had never been on a date this good before and you never wanted it to end.

Harry swiftly returned with the drinks and the food, and you both happily sat there munching away, as you rambled on about your job at the pub and your dreams for the future, Harry checking the room occasionally to check he hadn't been seen yet.

"I don't think I can work at the pub for much longer though. I love it and I love running a business and being around lots of people but I need to spread my wings for a bit. I want to travel and I want to try out lots of different things. I know it sounds crazy but there are so many things I want to experience that I think I'd go mad if I just stuck with one thing," you explained.

"Well, then I think you should absolutely go for it. There's no happiness to be found in holding yourself back from something because it's not deemed conventionally normal by society. Shouldn't matter if you don't want a 9-5 or to be doing the same thing for years, just do what makes you happy," Harry encouraged.

"Thank you, Harry. No one's ever really agreed with me before, they all think I'm crazy," you chuckled and he shrugged.

"I don't know why. There's something quite admirable about wanting to do your own thing. Not conforming to what other people want you to do. I wish I could have done that for a while," he admitted and you cocked your head curiously as you allowed him to explain what he meant. He let out a sigh and you knew whatever he was about to say was going to be heavy.

"I will never regret anything that happened with the band and I'm so grateful for the experience I had. Like I was happy during those years even though a lot of people think I wasn't. I just found it really difficult having to conform to the person people wanted me to be. Obviously, management was breathing down our necks constantly and everything we did was so closely controlled. I was labelled pretty early on as this ladies' man or this sex symbol and it made me so uncomfortable because that's not who I was. And it was just non-stop for years. I don't think I had a proper break until about 6 months ago. We always had to be making a new album, or on tour because we were told that's what we needed to be doing. I couldn't say no because I felt like I would be letting everyone down if I did. I barely saw my family for years and I was sick and exhausted quite a lot and I sometimes wish I could have just said something. And the stuff we were making was good and I'm proud of it but it wasn't me. It wasn't what I wanted to make. I think what makes it better, is that I am now able to do all of that but I also had that experience to help me discover who I am. I dunno, I think I have a very love-hate relationship with the last couple of years," he disclosed and you sat back in shock. You didn't expect Harry to open up to you the way he did. You could see he was a bit overwhelmed with it though so you reached across the table and took his large hand in your small ones.

"I could never have done what you did. I think you should be very proud of what you achieved in the last 6 years, but also I am so glad you are discovering who you really are and what you want to do without any restrictions or boundaries you wouldn't be allowed to cross. It's never too late to try something if you think it will make you really happy," you advised and Harry smiled softly across the table at you. He was constantly in awe of you and how you always seemed to be able to say the right thing.

"I like talking to you," he professed, moving his chair around the table so it was next to yours and he could be closer to you.

"I'm always here for you if you need a chat," you insisted. "You can always reach out to me, even if it's the middle of the night. I'll probably be awake anyway..." you continued but Harry could barely focus on what you were saying. Your promise to always be there for him was something he hadn't experienced in a while. He found it really hard to open up to people as a lot of people in his past had abused his trust or sold his secrets because of his fame. He felt like he could trust you though and his heart melted at the idea of you being there for him.

"Harry?" you called breaking him out of his chain of thoughts. "You ok? Went a bit quiet on me there."

"Sorry if this is a lot and we don't need to rush into anything, but I really like spending time with you.'' he started and your heart began to beat fast, wondering where he was going with this. "You make me feel safe and I like being here with you. It's nice. I wanna keep spending time with you."

"I wanna spend more time with you too. I... uh... well I really like you Harry," you expressed, blushing quite a bit. Harry swore under his breath at your admission before quickly cupping your face and kissing you. You both melted into each other, slightly moaning at the taste of each other on your tongues. You kissed as if you were dying of starvation and only Harry could keep you alive. The kiss was so incredible, that you kept your eyes closed after Harry had pulled away, savouring the way he had kissed you.

"I really like you too Y/N," he murmured against your lips before pressing his lips against yours again. It was so perfect.

You just couldn't see how this could go wrong.

-

part 2!!! i can see this becoming a bit longer than i intended but oh well. hope you enjoy!! sorry it took a while to write

sloane xx

[daydreaming-in-letters]

Assumptions

10/01/2021

Pairing: Manuel Neuer x fem!reader (3rd person)

Word Count: 6,018

Warnings: rpf, mentions of age gap (not between reader and Manu and nothing illegal) and strong opinions on that, banter, jealousy, infuriation, fluff and cuteness

Summary: The reader finally catches her long time crush Manuel Neuer alone on her uncle's birthday. Things are quickly starting to get heated—sadly it's not the kind of heated she would have liked it to be.

A/N: Most of you probably don't know Manuel Neuer. He is the goalkeeper and captain of Bayern Munich as well as the German National Football Team and every once in a while I find my thoughts drifting towards that adorable and amazingly talented manchild. This story has been sitting in my drafts for far too long and I wasn't sure whether I felt comfortable with publishing it in case it ever got finished. But I found that there is an intolerable lack of Manuel Neuer x reader fics on here, so here it is. I tagged everyone from my general tag list, but I understand if this is not what you signed up for. So sorry in advance and please feel free to ignore this story at your leisure.

Picture found on Pinterest

If you like my story, you are very welcome to like, comment or reblog. Please don’t copy, repost or share my work on other platforms.

It was only a few minutes to midnight and still the dance floor was as filled as ever, an enchanting mixture of young and old people alike. The bass rolled deep in his stomach, making him even queasier than he already was, and the lights, flickering across the mass of moving bodies in sync to the rhythm of the music, didn’t help either.

Suddenly a figure broke through the outer wall of bodies and made her way over to his table. A small smile crawled over her lips, a little shy but genuine, yet he didn’t feel like returning it. He had hoped that she would change her mind upon the disgruntled look on his face, but much to his dismay, she did nothing of the sort and sat down right next to him, just as a waitress passed the table with a tray of colourful shots. The woman next to him stopped her, before she turned to him.

“Care for a drink?”

Did he care for a drink? He yearned for one.

“No, thanks. I’m not really fond of drinking.”

“Shame,” she shrugged, her smile growing a bit wider when she took two shots from the tray anyway. For a second he thought she might actually force him to drink with her, but then she placed down the two glasses in front of herself. Raising her first glass to him, she gulped it down in one swig, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand afterwards.

“Do you care for a dance then?” She nodded over to the dance floor, her eyes and body inviting him to take the offer.

He found that he somehow couldn’t hold her gaze when he answered, “I’m afraid I’m also not very fond of dancing.”

Her forearms resting on the table, she leaned closer, obviously not taking the hint that he just wanted to be left in peace and quiet.

“Then what are you fond of?”

“I think you know pretty well what I’m fond of.” To his own surprise he sounded even harsher than he had attempted to, but the last thing he needed right now was an eager fan trying to engage him in a conversation.

“I do,” she retorted undeterred, “but that’s not what I wanted to know. See, you might not have noticed through all your sulking, but I was actually interested in you as a person, not as a footballer.”

He huffed, although he wasn’t sure she had heard him above the music.

“And you might have noticed that I am not interested in talking about private stuff to complete strangers.”

Sure, he was being massively impolite, but at least he hoped that this would do the trick now. But instead of finally leaving him alone, she shot him an amused look.

“Ooooh, grumpy, aren’t we?”

Now it was him who leaned in closer, making sure she could hear him properly. “Look, it’s nothing personal, okay? I just...it wasn’t such a great evening for me.”

Unintentionally his eyes wandered over to the dance floor for a split second, where a very young, very blonde girl was dancing happily among his teammates and their wives and girlfriends. Cursing himself, he looked over to the woman by his side carefully, hoping she hadn’t noticed. But of course she had, her eyes still fixed on the girl.

“Ah, I see.” She turned to him and the glint in her eyes made his stomach turn. “Puberty is a bitch, eh?”

“Excuse me?” he spat, equal parts bewildered and stunned.

“You heard me alright.”

Who did she think she was? Impertinent woman.

“I don’t think that’s any of your business.” The volume of his voice must have slipped his control a little, as he noticed a group of elderly men standing nearby turn into his direction. Still the woman’s smile never left her face, appeasing the men who turned away again.

“Really? After all I have to sit here with a pissed thirty something man who refuses to acknowledge he let his hormones get the best of him.”

“Whoa! Okay, first of all, it was you who decided to come and sit at this table and second, again, none of your goddamn business.”

Her answer was a simple grin, still not fazed by his anger in the slightest. It almost felt as if she was enjoying to get him riled up.

“You’re right.”

“And?”

“What do you mean ‘and’?”

He rolled his eyes heavily. Why couldn’t she just leave?

“You know, that phrase usually goes with an apology. Like ‘You’re right. Sorry I assumed you’re having a mid-life crisis and bang a chick that is 15 years your junior to boost your fragile ego.’”

“Do you?”

Inhaling deeply, he tried to calm himself a little. After all, he couldn’t afford to yell at her again, not that he didn’t want to, but causing even more unwanted attention was not in his plans for tonight.

“I didn't say that.”

“Well actually,” she looked at him triumphantly, “you kind of did. I never said you were having a midlife crisis or that you need her to boost your ego. Those were your words. And seeing that my assumptions caused a reaction like that, I’m afraid I can’t really say I’m sorry either.”

All right, that was it. Enough was enough.

“Look, I think I have an assumption for you too, lady. I’m starting to assume that you only came over here to rile me up further. And guess what, mission completed. So why don’t you do us both a favour and head off to pester someone else now?”

She was quiet for a moment and for the first time, the cheeky smile left her beautiful, burgundy lips. He had expected her to be a bit shaken at least, maybe even as pissed as himself, and yet the next words were spoken with such dignity that he couldn’t help but admire her a little for it.

“Oh, I would love to say you’re right again, but I’m afraid I can’t this time. And since we seem to have warmed up to each other quite a bit by now, I feel it’s okay to be completely honest with you.” She paused a second, simply for the effect, he guessed and her warm eyes never left his. “I came to sit with you because you looked miserable. Still do, by the way. And I thought you might need an actual grown up to talk to. But it seems I was wrong. You’re just a pouty manchild, like the rest of them.”

She waved her arm, pointing over at the dancing crowd of his friends and their spouses. His eyes followed her gesture and when he laid eyes on the heart of the matter, a hot flush of rage began to swirl through his veins, making his hands clench into fists. Fully set on giving her a piece of his mind, not caring who might hear him at this point, he turned to her again. But the familiar figure that had somehow entered the picture without his notice made him stop in his tracks.

“Here you are, sweetie.” The man cooed, laying his large hand on her shoulder in a protective gesture. “I almost got the feeling you were hiding from me since I made you promise to dance with me tonight.”

She twisted her slender neck to look up at his gentle face, her attention making him smile sweetly at her.

“You know I’d never do that to you, Uncle Hans, especially not on your birthday. I just thought your no. 1 goalkeeper here was in need of some mature company, but clearly he is perfectly happy with the way things are.”

Bewilderment flickered behind the coach’s gaze as he looked between his niece and one of his best players and Manuel was sure that this might not be the last time they would speak about this matter.

“So then, may I have that dance now, sweetheart?”

“With pleasure.” Manuel watched almost transfixed as she gracefully took her uncle’s hand and stood up. It was only now that he noticed how perfectly her dress showed off her voluptuous curves. He was almost certain that she would leave without another word when once again she proved him wrong. Turning on her heels, she grabbed the remaining shot and gulped it down in one large swig before she looked down at him, almost as regal as a queen.

“Have a pleasant evening, Mister Neuer. I’m sorry I can’t say I enjoyed our conversation more. Oh, and just in case you should ever feel in need to talk to a grown up, don’t call.”

⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️

She could still feel his piercing look on her back as Hansi led her through the crowd and away from him. They had just begun to dance when the song changed and a much slower tune echoed through the large room. With a smug grin, her uncle pulled her closer, bringing his hand to the small of her back. Cheek to cheek he swayed her to the beat and she could feel that her mind was almost beginning to slow down, when he decided to pick up a conversation.

“Will you tell me what that was all about?”

She bit her lip like a little girl that was about to be scolded. “Do I have to?”

He chuckled deeply, the vibration rumbling against her chest and she could easily imagine the self-satisfied grin on his face.

“I’m certainly not going to force you. It’s just, you know, I always thought you kind of liked him.”

Instantly, she could feel her face heat up. How could he possibly know that?

“True. Liked, as in past tense. And besides, it’s not that I actually know him, personally, I mean. You could perhaps say I admire his talent, at most. And he also may be kind of easy on the eyes.”

She had become more and more quiet while she spoke, merely mumbling the last sentence. But he had heard her nonetheless, her silliness making his lips twitch in amusement.

“Hm. I clearly remember your aunt begging me to invite him over for a barbecue party last summer, telling me that you wouldn’t shut up about his quiet reserve, his amazing performance on the field and his stunning smile. Sadly he didn’t have time.”

She gulped audibly, tensing up a little in his arms, which made him enjoy their little talk even more. “So, what changed your mind?”

“He did,” she said a little too quickly, before she sighed so heavily that her uncle almost regretted bringing this topic up after all. “It’s just, I don’t understand his choice in women. I mean, he could choose literally anyone, so why her? I mean, she clearly doesn’t make him happy.”

“And how do you know that? You have spoken to him for what? Like five minutes?” He turned them around, making her face the gloomy goalie once more, before he went on. “I might be wrong, sweetheart, but I think you’re just jealous.”

Over his shoulder her gaze met Manuel’s for a split second before his eyes shot to his right, where the blonde teenager stepped into the picture, blocking him from view. She sat down on his lap, her arms dragging around his neck possessively, as her lips met his in a feverish kiss. Averting her gaze immediately, her eyes darkened and her heart clenched heavily in her chest.

“If by jealous you mean disenchanted, you’re right.”

Her bitter words made him loosen his grip on her so that he could see her face, and the hurt in her eyes pained him more than he cared for.

“I know you probably won’t believe me, but he really is a good person.”

She scoffed while her incredulous eyes landed on her uncle’s soft, blue orbs. “Well, he certainly hid that pretty well.”

He gave her a tight lipped smile. “I think he’s just lost his way a little at the moment.”

“So you think I’m right then?”

The excited sparkle in her eyes made him regret his honest words a little.

“I didn’t say that.” He protested strongly. In the end it was not for him to judge his players’ private lives. “After all he is a grown man and he can decide for himself.” He could see her face fall again and so he was quick to add, “Nevertheless, I don’t think you’re completely wrong either.”

He was very pleased to see that his words had caused a small smile to crawl back to her pretty lips. He almost felt like a proud father and when she finally leaned back in a bit closer, her forgiving gesture almost made him a bit bold.

“So, uhm, one more question, sweetheart. In the unlikely event that he should after all need a grown woman to talk to, can I give him your number?”

“Certainly not,” she insisted with a steady voice, but when she looked at him, the adorable grin on her face left no doubt that this was the biggest lie she had ever told.

⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️

Manuel was furious as he watched her leave towards the dance floor with the coach. How could she dare call him out like that and then leave without giving him the chance to set her straight? His eyes fixed on her, he watched as Flick pulled her closer, his eyes following her uncle’s hand to the small of her back. Being the gentleman he was, his hand had found the only spot on her back that was actually covered by the dark red fabric of her dress. And for a second he imagined what it might actually feel like to let his hand wander upwards until it covered her bare skin. Or maybe he could let it slip down a few inches, until his fingers would grasp the soft flesh of her behind. He had just been able to fully picture the exact feeling of her body pressed up to his when he could feel the man who actually held her in his arms catch his indecent look on his niece’s back. Immediately he sat up straight, averting his gaze, completely missing the amused smile on the other man’s face, and when he turned back to face him, he almost lost it when he found her sparkling eyes instead.

He was still trying to figure out what had happened, when he heard a familiar voice calling him.

“Hey, babe.” The high pitched noise made him flinch and instinctively his eyes shot to his right, just in time to pull his arms away before she slumped down onto his lap clumsily. She laid it on thickly as her arms wrapped around his neck.

“I missed you on the dance floor, honey bun. Why don’t you come dance with me?”

And before he even had the chance to answer, her lips crashed down on his mouth almost painfully, her tongue forcing his lips to open. The stench of alcohol filled his mouth and he pushed her drunken form off of him determinedly. Before she even had the chance to protest, he lifted her up and placed her in his chair.

“I don’t think dancing is a good idea in your condition.” She glared at him, but then she seemed to have forgotten what for and her lips turned up into a sheepish smile.

“Whatever you say, babe.”

“Look, why don’t you just stay here and I get you a nice, big glass of water to sober you up a little?”

She began to nod, but then her eyes lost focus und she stared past him at god knows what.

“All right, I’ll be back in a sec. Don’t go anywhere.”

Quickly he made his way over to the counter and ordered a whole bottle of water, when he felt the slap of a hand on his left shoulder.

“Wow, you look even more frustrated than after our knock out at the World Cup in 2018. What happened?”

“Don’t ask.” He sighed as he turned around to face his friend. Manuel hoped that he would accept his wish, but when he saw the apologetic look on Thomas’ face, he instantly knew that he wouldn’t drop the topic.

“Too late. I just did.”

With a dramatic roll of his eyes, the next words were spoken more to himself than to his teammate.

“Great, just what I need. Another pain in my ass.”

“Another? Who was the first then?” Obviously Thomas had taken no offence and sounded a bit too cheerful for Manuel’s liking.

“She.”

He looked over at the dance floor, where the impertinent woman was just sending her uncle the most beautiful, cheeky grin he had ever seen.

“Who? Y/N?” his friend asked incredulously.

Y/N. So that was her name.

“You know that annoying woman?”

“I do, although I can’t really say she’s annoying. Met her at the coach’s home once. She seemed rather sweet and intelligent to me.”

“She certainly hid that pretty well,” Manuel growled under his breath, earning him a surprised frown from Thomas.

“Are you gonna stand here and stare daggers at her or are you gonna tell me what she did to make you throw a fit?”

“She approached me out of nowhere to tell me that I’m dating a teenager to compensate my inability to commit to a partner on eye level.”

Thomas let his words sink in for a while.

“That doesn’t really sound like her. I mean, what reason would she have to come at you like that? She doesn’t even know you.”

Manuel sighed, thinking about the way she had somehow coaxed the statements from him instead of making them herself.

“Well, she might have phrased it differently,” he admitted meekly. That seemed to spark Thomas’ interest even further and he could feel his expectant look on him, pressing him to finally tell the whole truth.

“Actually she didn’t say it like that. She only made an allusion and made me somehow say those things myself.”

“Mhm. And exactly what allusion did she make?”

Manuel rolled his eyes again, his ego still fighting to repeat her words out loud.

”She said puberty was a bitch, clearly hinting at the fact that she thought my girlfriend was too young for me.”

He hadn’t even finished his sentence when Thomas’ roaring laughter filled the air.

“Now that does sound more like her.”

He needed a bit to contain himself when he suddenly looked up at Manuel with an unusually serious expression on his face.

“And I have to admit, Manu, she kind of has a fair point there.”

“What?”

Manuel could not believe his ears.

“Come on, man. It’s what everyone thinks. She just said it out loud.”

“Fuck you.”

But instead of rising to his expletive, Thomas just looked at him sympathetically. Pushing himself off of the counter, he pat his shoulder in an attempt to encourage him a little, ready to leave him to his self-denial.

But then he stopped. “You know, I personally didn’t have a problem with it. You’re an adult, you can make your own choices. As long as you’re happy, right? But the truth is, Manu, I don’t think you are. Not anymore.”

⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️

“See, I told you he wouldn’t be here. No need for all the panic beforehand.”

She narrowed her eyes at her cousin, shooting her a dirty look.

“Yeah, and I hope it’ll stay that way. Oh, and for the record: I wasn’t panicking at all, it was just you and your sister’s sudden eagerness to lure me here that got me suspicious and nervous in the first place.”

“We didn’t lure you here,” her other cousin piped up a little offendedly. “We simply wanted to spend some time with you. Come on, it’s been what, like 4 months now? Since you moved to Munich three years ago, we hardly get to see you anymore.”

“You and our father,” her sister added quickly. “So it seemed the best option to kill two birds with one stone and bring you along. After all it’s called a family day, right?”

Y/N sighed, not fully convinced, but finally ready to let the topic go.

“Right. Let’s just hope for your sakes that there will be no surprises today that might prove your guilt after all.”

“How are my girls doing?” she heard a familiar voice from behind her back, turning towards her favourite uncle with a beaming smile. What she didn’t see, however, was the brief look that was exchanged between her cousins as soon as she had turned her back, proving exactly what she had suspected all along.

“We’re good, dad. Actually, we’re more than good, we’re excellent,” the older cousin chirped.

“Great.” He paused a moment, but it was clear that he had more to say. Rocking back and forth on his feet, he looked from one woman to the other. “So,” he began carefully, before a huge Cheshire grin spread across his face. “I hope you all reserved a dance for me tonight.”

“Oh, no, daddy, not again.”

“Please, don’t make us do this.”

“There will be dancing here? If you had told me that beforehand, I certainly wouldn’t have come.”

“Of course there will be dancing. I thought that was obvious.” He had to try very hard to look a little slighted, while he actually drew a horrendous amount of amusement from their antics. “Remember, girls, we have a tradition to uphold. Whenever there is some dancing at a party, you have to reserve at least one dance for me. That’s the rule.”

And with that he turned and left them on their own again.

“Ugh, why does he always have to do that to us?” her younger cousin whined.

“Oh stop it, silly. You’re the one who likes it the most and everyone knows.”

⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️

She had been the first to pay tribute to the family tradition and after a very exhausting Discofox dance session, luckily one of her cousins had taken over from her. Kicking off her heels, she welcomed the feel of the cool grass underneath the soles of her feet. Walking over to one of the empty tables, she slumped down heavily into one of the comfortable looking chairs. With a contented smile she let herself fall back against the backrest, closing her eyes and breathing in the mild air of the warm summer night.

“Care for a drink?”

His voice made her jump, sitting up straight immediately, eyes shooting wide open. And there he was, two shot glasses in his large hands and grinning down at her, obviously very satisfied with the slight scare he had just given her. He looked amazing, the smug bastard, in his casual jeans and white shirt, two buttons undone, topped with a sporty black jacket. She highly doubted that she had ever seen a finer man in her entire life. Luckily that didn’t make her lose her sharp tongue.

“And here I am thinking that you weren’t fond of alcohol. What happened?”

He smiled sheepishly, only one corner of his mouth tugged up, when he handed her her drink. He took his time, grabbing a chair and positioning it opposite hers, then sitting down carefully, not wanting to spill the shot all over his chest. She had already come to think that he was trying to avoid her question after all, when he locked eyes with her and finally began to speak.

“Hm. It’s been a while since I last saw you. A lot of things happened, you know. Maybe it was finally time for me to grow up.”

“Hear, hear.” With a mischievous smile she raised her glass. “To your coming of age, then.”

He rolled his eyes playfully. “If you insist.”

His magnificent blue eyes never left hers while they chinked glasses, and a second later she could feel the more than welcome liquid moisturising her suddenly very dry mouth.

With a thud, their glasses landed on the table, both of them chuckling like giddy children when their eyes found each other again and then, for a moment, there was nothing but silence. The world seemed to have zoned out, leaving behind nothing but his aquamarine orbs and the wild smile on his face.

Just gradually, the world seemed to set back in again. There was the monotonous clitter of the crickets, overlaid by the muffled sound of the music that was carried over by a soft breeze, and loudest of all she could hear the beating of her own heart against her chest.

“What else has changed now that you are a proper adult?” she heard herself ask, not having the faintest idea where those words came from and how the hell she managed to deliver them so smoothly when her whole body seemed to have gotten out of control.

He took a quick look over his shoulder, his thumb pointing in the same direction.

“If you mean the dancing, I’m still not very fond of that.” Her face must have fallen a little because he was quick to add, “Except...”

“Except what?”

His eyes landed back on hers and she almost choked on her hitching breath.

“Except I think I could make an exception for the right partner.”

From the corner of her eye she registered a movement between their bodies, but she was hesitant to let her view stray from his captivating appearance. At last it was something in his eyes that looked at her expectantly which finally made her snap out of her trance.

Looking down at his hand sheepishly, it took her a while to fathom that he was actually asking her to dance with him.

Slowly her eyes wandered up to his again, asking a silent question, which he answered with an almost imperceptible rise of his eyebrows. And before she knew what she was doing, she laid her hand in his and let him pull her to her feet.

He had just turned towards the source of the music, when she suddenly held him back.

“No, wait.”

With a puzzled look he did what she asked of him and let her twist him back around.

“Why don’t we just stay here? The music is loud enough anyway.”

A gentle smile curved his lips. “Sure, if that’s what you want.”

She nodded softly, her teeth biting down on her lip in excitement.

And before she knew what was happening, she found herself secured against his chest by his firm grip. It felt like being pressed up to a hot furnace which she would usually have appreciated any other time, but on a sweltry night like this and in a place she had wanted to be in for so long, it was pure torture. And as if this wasn’t bad enough already, his strong fingers pressed down on her lower back, threatening to scorch her even through the fabric of her blouse as he pulled her an impossible inch further into him. He was so close now that she could sense the heat radiating off his cheek as well, bringing along a whiff of his enticing scent and she couldn’t help but close her eyes as she inhaled deeply and her head began to spin. It was odd, but her mind was completely blank by now, blank except for one thought and her lips spread into a blissful smile as she repeated it in her head again and again, relishing in the feeling that if either of them moved just the tiniest bit, their cheeks would inevitably touch.

Slowly they moved and despite the unhurried shift of their bodies her heart was beating so violently that she thought it pondered jumping out of her chest to meet his. There was no chance he wouldn’t be able to tell from the way he held her, and when he finally drew away a tad to look at her, she fully expected him to call her out for it.

But he didn’t. Instead his sinfully soft lips curled into a reassuring smile before he spoke.

“You were right.”

“I beg your pardon?”

A cute chuckle escaped his mouth, leaving the corners of his eyes crinkled in the most beautiful display of amusement.

“About what you said at your uncle’s birthday party.”

“Oh.” She had said a lot that evening, words that she had come to regret later and remembering them now set her cheeks on fire. “About what exactly?”

“About everything,” he admitted without hesitation, yet he couldn’t hide the spark of misery that flitted across his sea blue orbs. “Didn’t take me very long after that night to finally see things clearly.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” It was true. Although she knew that she probably sounded like a madwoman after everything she had confronted him with back then, at least the frown on his forehead seemed to confirm that. “I truly am. I really would have liked to see you happy.” Even if it was with that girl.

She was glad she had managed to keep that last bit to herself. She had no idea why she had said that she was sorry in the first place, but judging by the wild smile on his face it must have been the right words after all.

“Well, I certainly am happier now than I was that night.” He shrugged. “So, thank you, I guess.”

She huffed. “For what? Making absolutely inappropriate remarks on your relationship? I shouldn’t have done that. I know that now. So it should be me who is sorry here, don’t you think?”

She could feel his fingertips press into the soft flesh of her back.

“Don’t be. I guess you were exactly what I needed.” It took him a second before he realised what he had just said. “I mean it. It was exactly what I needed.”

His eyes snapped to the left and she was thankful that he couldn’t see the grin that decorated her lips as she watched the treacherous colour creep into his cheeks, spreading all the way to his ears. For a while he didn’t say another word, probably still trying feverishly to figure out a way to take back his slip of the tongue. And when he finally spoke, she wished he hadn’t.

“There is one thing though that I have gone over and over in my mind. But no matter how long I think about it, it just won’t make sense.”

She already knew that she wouldn’t like where this conversation was heading now, but she found herself asking nonetheless.

“And what is that?”

His head turned without a warning as his eyes searched her gaze and for the blink of an eye his lips came so close that she couldn’t say if they had actually brushed along hers or if her needy heart had just imagined their brief touch. He didn’t answer her question right away, his breath blending with her own in the narrow space between their faces and suddenly she wasn’t so sure anymore if she had really only dreamed up their fleeting foretaste of a kiss.

“Why did you do it?” Panic rose in her chest. She hadn’t done anything. After all it had been him who had turned his head. But as he went on, she realised that he wasn’t referring to that at all and the suffocating distress eased away bit by bit. “I mean, we didn’t even know each other when you decided to come at me like that.”

Now it was her who had to avert her gaze.

“I think I don’t really want to answer that question.”

“Why not?” His voice was so soft and gentle, making it even harder to answer him.

“Because the truth might be kind of ugly.”

“But the outcome wasn’t, so I think I’ll take that risk.”

Her feet stopped their mechanical movements as a violent shiver ran down her spine. So this would be it then. It would be over before it had really begun. Pity. But at least she would have the memory of these few minutes, of his genuine smile and the way he had held her tight against his chest. With a deep sigh she bid their daydream of a dance goodbye.

“I could tell you now that it was for some noble reason, but at the bottom of it all I think it was nothing more than jealousy that drew me to your table that night. I had been unable to ignore you all evening — ignore her. The way she behaved like a spoiled brat, drinking and losing control, not caring in the least that she not only made a fool out of herself but of you as well. God, I hated her in that moment, for having everything I ever wanted and riding roughshod over it. And when I saw you sitting there, looking so utterly crestfallen, somehow I couldn’t help it.”

An undefinable silence settled between them and the only sound that remained was the beat of the music wafting over from the party that went on behind his back. The faint whisper of the melody seemed to push itself up between them and tear them further apart, exactly as she had expected. And just like the bass, her heartbeat slowed until it died away completely.

It was over and everything she wanted to do was let go of his hand so she could do him the favour of leaving, but to her astonishment he refused to set her free. And rather then releasing her from his grip, he squeezed her hand, briefly and just once, but it was enough for her to find the courage and face him. But instead of finding a frown or a scornful pair of eyes, his blinding smile made her forget to breathe for a moment.

“I had hoped you might say that.” And with that he pulled her into his arms again and continued swaying her to the music as if she had not just revealed her repulsive self to him. Her brain still a step behind, she couldn’t do anything but stare up at him stupidly.

“What? Why?”

“Isn’t that obvious?” And when she shook her head like a petrified imbecile, an amused chuckle rumbled through his chest. “Because even though your behaviour was extremely infuriating, I have to admit that I like you. And asking you out on a date will be so much easier now that I know you like me too.”

With a violent jolt, the useless muscle inside her chest started to beat again, its heavy pounding filling her ears with white noise as the world around her started to spin. Unable to stop the motion, she felt herself leaning in, her nails digging into the undoubtedly expensive fabric of his jacket as she desperately tried to gain control over her unruly body.

“So, will you go out with me?”

It seemed like an eternity until she finally mustered the strength for a mechanical nod. Neither had she noticed in her struggle that he had stopped dancing, nor that the priceless look on her face had made his eyes and heart go soft for her.

“Great. That’s settled then. When are you free?”

It was only when he took a step back, taking his warmth with him as his hand slipped out of hers, that she snapped out of her trance.

“Now.”

“Now? Like right now?”

More like now as in before she could screw everything up again.

“Yes, why not? I know you have a busy schedule, so finding a date when we are both free might be tough. And above that, it is a beautiful summer evening.”

Had all those words really fallen from her mouth right now? Embarrassed about her lack of composure, her hand flew up to her mouth, making him smile again.

“I guess you have a fair point there.” And just like that, his hand was there again, fingers entwining slowly with hers like they had never been meant for anyone else. “All right then, let’s get out of here.”

***

Tag List: please let me know if you want to be removed or added by either ask or DM - thank you!

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[bisexual-horror-fan]

Hi! I just finished reading my last book and seeing you rec blossom (and just your enthusiasm) for it has created an itch for me to buy it! I read the description and looked through the author's tag a bit but I was wondering as a reader why you recommend it? I love horror movies (duh) but haven't read too much of that genre, I want to get more into it. Thank you Bex for taking the time to respond and have a great day/night whenever you get to this! 🖤

Oh my God, Anon! Hi! What an awesome ask to see like first thing this morning! SO I fucking LOVE Blossom. It is a stellar book that I have recc’d heavily on here but I’ve never done an official post for it. Shameful really, but now you have given me the perfect space to do that, thank you Anon! So Blossom is written by Kate Winborne OR @xmichaelmyers here on tumblr. I found her through some of her slasher writing and totally became obsessed with her writing and slowly started to see her post about a book she was working on.

She would talk about theming and post mood boards and pictures and every post was like a little look into what is to come and I found myself getting more and more interested by the ideas and concepts she was presenting.

So when the book finally dropped I bought it day of. It showed up fast but I read it slowly. I purposefully drew out the process of reading it to really take it in because I was so excited for it, I wanted to make it last, you know?

For the unaware the book follows Special Agent Henry Williamson who goes to The Town to investigate a series of murders and during this time he gets involved with a young woman, Blossom James and the strange relationship that enfolds between the two of them.

Onto why I would recommend you read it. The imagery is so clear, I love what Kate does with her writing, the word choices just, fit? They fit so well. Her descriptions literally stick in my brain, particularly the food related ones. At one point in the diner she describes ketchup on the side of a plate and whenever, and I do mean WHENEVER I use ketchup, her description of it flashes through my brain. The writing sticks with you. This is the first passage that slapped me in the face and stuck out to me when Blossom sees Henry.

“Stirring her straw through clinking, half-melted ice, she was transfixed by the FBI agent.

She wanted to crack him open like an egg, spool through his brains, his guts, and burrow herself deep inside his roughness. As if there was a safety to it all.

A home in all that damage.”

Like OKAY! DAMN! Go absoultely THE fuck off!

The character of special agent Henry Williamson is so intriguing, I found myself desperate to know more about him, his past, he is a total car crash of a human being, a mess you can’t look away from, he is self destructive and cannot take care of himself and it is so fascinating to watch. Blossom herself is just-God, what is the best word? Captivating.

She is utterly captivating, whenever she is around in the book you FEEL what Henry does, and the emotions he feels? They come across amazingly well, the tension is so good. The mystery of all the murders and their slow reveals are great, love the side characters, the clear history present, small moments and interactions that show that these characters have lived in The Town and know each other for years reads so easily.

Many moments jump off the page, there is a detailed dream sequence towards the end of the book that made me feel so much? I felt scooped out after it, the intensity of it was shocking, so visceral, it just made me really FEEL. The picture this book presented is one that I wanted to keep looking at but could almost make me feel sick by doing so.

The use of colour as well as the overall concept that is so heavily in this, consumption as a form of desire, is very thought provoking and one I want to see more of. The idea that hunger itself being one of the most human states of being and how it can only be satisfied for so long before coming back over and over and the lengths we was people can go to satisfy that hunger? Amazing.

Basically this book has some great overall writing, characters, consistent themes, imagery and relationships that I feel make it MORE than worth a read. Especially since the second book in The Wolf’s Den Anthology, the series of which Blossom is the first book, is coming soon!

I hope this isn’t too disjointed and makes sense but I have so much love for this book and Kate as an author, I really hope this gets you or some other people interested in picking this book up. Blossom is available here in kindle, paperback AND hardcover! Thanks again for asking this Anon!

[dothwrites]

Destiel + "can I hold your hand?" uWUWUWUWUWUWu

---

Dean’s too excited to be invited to Charlie’s party to remember to ask who else will be there. He regrets his short-sightedness when he walks into her house. It seems as though the entire population of their high school is located in her living room and Dean recognizes no one. 

An all-too familiar anxiety settles in his bones. He should be used to this by now; he’s been the new kid at school too many times to count. He and Sam hardly believed Dad when he said they were settling permanently in Pontiac, Illinois, but three weeks in and Dad hasn’t made noises of moving yet. Which is fine, but having a permanent mailing address means Dean actually has to make friends. Sam, the little freak, already has a host of buddies attached to him by the end of his first day (it’s not weird that Dean watches his little brother from across the cafeteria, all right, he’s just being a good brother and making sure Sam is fitting in), but Dean remains woefully unattached. 

Enter Charlie Bradbury, tech genius and actual human ray of sunshine. Seeing Dean’s pathetic attempts at creating lasting connections, Charlie had taken him under her proverbial wing and introduced him to her impressively wide circle of friends.  

Dorothy, Kevin, Jo, Benny, Gilda, Victor, Hannah, Inias, Anna, Gabriel--the names and faces flew past him. Only one stuck. 

Castiel. 

Dean knows he stares when Charlie introduces Castiel, but who could blame him? With those big blue eyes, sharp jaw, and a voice that sounds like he’s been gargling gravel even at seventeen, Dean’s willing to bet a lot of people stare at Castiel. It’s too bad that Castiel doesn’t seem interested in making the slightest overture at friendliness. He’s not rude but also not interested. Every time Dean tries to start a conversation, Castiel answers him in as few words as possible before making an excuse to leave. Dean’s fairly certain his last one was I have to clean the gutters. And Dean’s not stupid, he can take a hint (even if takes him about five times to figure it out). Castiel’s not interested in being friends (or anything more god forbid). 

Which is fine. Dean has plenty of friends. 

Too bad he can’t find any of them at this party. 

He forces his way through the crowd, ignoring the elbows and red solo cups thrown his way. The music (some awful Top 40 pop crap) blares, and Dean makes a note to take over the speakers at Charlie’s next party. 

Dean would love to give Charlie shit about it now, but he can’t find her anywhere. He makes his way from the living room into the kitchen and still finds no sign of his friends. The door to the back porch calls to him like a siren song and Dean slips outside before anyone ever has a chance to notice he’s gone. 

Dean closes the door behind him, thankfully shutting out most of the noise and the godawful music. Outside, it’s not nearly as humid, less so when a cool breeze drifts by. Dean sighs in relief as the sweat cools on the back of his neck. It’s only then he realizes he’s not alone. 

Sitting on a bench at the edge of the patio, illuminated by the weak glow of a porch-light, sits Castiel.  Dean’s mouth goes dry as he watches Castiel take a deep sip from his solo cup, throat working as he swallows. It’s only when Castiel lowers the cup that he catches sight of Dean. He sputters on his last swallow, coughing as his lungs reject whatever liquid he just tried to give them. 

“Dean,” he finally rasps, carelessly wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I didn’t...I didn’t think you would be here.” 

Amazingly, Dean feels disappointed. “Why? Did you think that I was too lame for this?”  

Castiel blinks. “No,” he says, surprise in his voice. “I thought...weren’t you going out with Anna tonight?” 

Dean vaguely remembers Anna hinting that she and a few of her friends were headed out to see a band downtown, but it hadn’t sounded like his scene. He does think that Castiel might have been standing in the background of that conversation, but he hadn’t thought the other boy was paying attention. 

“No. I mean, she asked, but...no.” 

“Oh. Well, all right then.” There’s something pleased in Castiel’s eyes as he ducks his head. Dean thinks he catches a hint of a smile. 

“Wait,” he says, feeling like he got this whole thing very wrong. “Were you...Cas, were you jealous?” 

“No,” Castiel says, a little too quickly. “You can do whatever you like.” He punctuates the statement with another drink, swift and furious. 

Dean walks over to the bench Cas is sitting on. He sits down and notes the quick dart of Castiel’s eyes to the minimal distance separating them. “So why aren’t you inside?” Castiel finally asks, his eyes on the few stars visible from the suburbs. 

Dean shrugs. “’S too hot in there. I don’t know anyone. Shitty music.” A disheartening thought strikes. “Why? Do you want me to leave you alone?” 

“No!” Cas answers a little too quickly. “I mean...no. Stay. Please. I like talking to you.” 

Dean scoffs. “Dude, you’ve said like...three full sentences to me. Kind of takes more than that to have a conversation.” 

“I’ve said more,” Cas protests. When Dean levels a stare at him, he relents. “You’re...very distracting sometimes.” Cas’ eyes flick down to Dean’s lips. “All the time,” he amends, his own tongue dabbing at his lower lip. 

Warmth blooms in Dean’s chest. “Cas...do you...” He grins for a moment as a world of new possibilities opens up to him. “Do you like me?” 

“We don’t have to make a big deal out of this.” Cas draws his knees up to his chest, obviously resigned. “I mean, I’d appreciate it--”

“Hold up,” Dean interrupts. It looks like he and Cas are going to have to get a hell of a lot better at this communication thing; they both misread this situation so badly. “What if I want to make a big deal about it?” Cas looks towards him, his forehead creased in obvious misery, and Dean sighs in frustration. “Not like that, I just mean...Look, can I hold your hand?” 

The skin of the back of Dean’s neck prickles with a blush (amazing how much of an idiot Cas turns him into), but it’s worth it for the look of slowly dawning realization on Cas’ face. Even better is when Cas stretches out his hand, palm up towards Dean. 

Dean’s hand slides overtop Cas’ before his fingers lace smoothly between Cas’. He wraps his fingers onto the back of Cas’ hand, something pleased jangling in him at the look of their clasped hands. 

“I thought you kind of hated me,” Dean breathes, transfixed by Cas’ palm, dry and warm, against his. 

“No,” Cas agrees, his own voice faint. His thumb presses daringly into Dean’s skin. “Quite the opposite.” 

“Oh.” Dean grins and Cas matches his expression, his lips spreading in a wide, gummy smile. Inside his chest, his heart performs a series of Olympic worthy somersaults. Somewhere, a choir sings a hallelujah chorus. “Well, that’s good I guess. ‘Cause I really like you.” 

They stay there, ignoring the music and sounds from within the house, their hands clasped together on Dean’s lap, and watch the stars late into the night. 

---

tags underneath cut--message/reply to be added or removed <3

@screamatthescreen @queenvee08 @dizzypinwheel @rogerslouis @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @stay-inside-the-salt-ring @deansbff @spaceshipkat @espejonight28738 @proccastinate @organicpurplepants @apieceofurmind @good-things-do-happen-dean @thewolfatmydoor 

[nalufever]

do you have any more nalu fic recs?

Sorry, not sorry - you’ve unleashed more than you could’ve guessed. ^^ Always happy to Recommend a List of Fics ~ And thank you for asking! Admittedly there’s a few Recs that aren’t Nalu - I got excited to share my favs. ;)

A Girl Worth Fighting For: Natsu navigates unspeakable horrors to win Lucy’s love or Natsu goes shopping, looking for the perfect white day gift. 

A Lesson: Natsu and Lucy can’t keep themselves from expressing their passions - and the results are bed breaking. Short but smutty - smexy in fact. ;P 

A Solidly Constructed Kiss: Erza strong-arms Lucy and Natsu into working the Kissing Booth to raise funds for a school trip. Lucy’s never been kissed and Natsu acts like he’s never entertained even the idea of kissing another person. Things naturally come to a head when Lucy and Natsu are given the task to build the actual booth; will they fight over construction or build themselves some kind of relationship? 

Fairy Tail Week: A collection of drabbles from tumblr prompts to celebrate Fairy Tail. Fairy, Ladies, Lads, Magic, Guild, Ultimate Team, Stronger, Mashima, Tail. Only rated teen to err on the side of caution, family friendly content featuring most of the Fairy Tail Guild! 

Feathers and Scales: Angel/Demon AU. Devils are more than they seem and Angels no less. Pitted against each other in a never-ending battle for souls, a single Angel and Devil trade mercies and fall in love. Warning: major character death(s). 

Full Moon Secret: Natsu had wanted to tell Lucy his secrets, to share his family history with the fey…it had just never been the right time. Tonight the truth was going to be revealed, one way or another. 

Okay, I could just keep hyping all of my own fics individually - but I won’t - other than to just put in a link to ALL OF THEM. ;) Fair warning, I have a few other fandoms works in all the Fairy Tail stories - from Brooklyn 99 to The Flash, Snow White with the Red Hair, RWBY, Blue Exorcist, Teen Titans and some Hakuouki. Yes, I’m a shameless self-promoter. Speaking of that - one more I need to rec!  Natsu’s Stars in Lucy’s Sky. I swear Imma finish this. 

I also have more than a few favourite authors who write for Fairy Tail (and other fandoms) ~ some have not contributed lately to Fairy Tail or chosen to concentrate on other fandoms - but I like them and their excellent writing. 

ObsessedwithNalu: One of my first fandom friends and pretty much any of her FT stories is gold. @obsessedwithnalu  

Christmas Treats: Admittedly a gift to me and very cherished for that fact - and - it’s frigging awesome. Lucy does a little holiday baking at home before Fairy Tail’s Christmas party. Natsu, as always, is there. One thing leads to another… 

Thanks, Krov: When Krov decided to relax at his favorite bar after work, he never imagined that he’d be seeing some of his old guild members, especially since he thought they had died long ago. Nalu fluff. 

Edo-Nalu love fest: Submissions for the Nalu love fest week of 2014. But instead of regular Nalu, these ones feature Edo-Nalu. Smut-tastic and delightfully mature. 

ImpracticalDemon: Another early fandom friend who’s still writing this, that and the other thing - and she’s just GREAT. Again, a link to all her works and a few that are special to me follow. XOXOX @impracticaldemon  

May the Best Man Survive: “Gray would never have in a million years thought he’d host Natsu’s bachelor party (Nalu pairing). Why is it his job to herd the bunch of rowdy mages from bar to bar, ending up at the guild where the real surprise party is? Oh yeah, the idiot had asked him to be the best man at his wedding. Hijinks, chaos and hilarity ensue.” ^^ A prompt supplied by me and I’m smirking so wide because the fic Imp came up with delivered more awesomeness than I could have hoped for! 

A Star At His Side: “Accidentally Fall Asleep Together” for Endragoneel on tumblr. Natsu and Lucy spend the day together at a festival in Magnolia. Natsu ends up watching more than just the stars when the festival is over… 

Christmas Gifts: When Erza walks Wendy home from the Guild’s Christmas Party, Wendy realizes how alone her friend and mentor is feeling. She sets out to recruit Lucy, Natsu and the rest to break Jellal out of prison for just one night, as a Christmas gift for Erza. Meanwhile, Natsu has accidentally burned some of Lucy’s writing. Will she forgive him? 

Dark Shining Light: One of the best and most welcoming writers I have ever interacted with! I’m still gobsmacked she’s a friend! She’s a legend and I don’t know what else I could add to any discourse about her writing - but the classics are classic for a reason, yeah? Here’s a few of my personal favourites of her works and just know there’s too many to list them all! AKA @ff-darkshininglight 

Mischievous Cat: Let’s just say there have been a few incidents where Happy has come in at a bad time. 

What Belongs to a Demon: Everyone knew she belonged to the great demon lord and she would prove that she deserved to stand by his side. 

The Truth Revealing Cards: Lucy should have known if there was a card that would reveal her secrets, Natsu would want it. 

Eliz1369: Got introduced to her for her Hakuoki fics but she’d dipped her toes into FT as well ~ and this is a great fic. ^^ @eliz1369 

The Light of Fairy Tail: The members of Fairy Tail may be their own brand of crazy, but their hearts are always in the right place. 

rougescribe: Shame on me for not reading more of this author’s works! @rougescribe  

Fire Sprite No 5: For him, Heaven wasn’t a place or a single moment in time. It was a feeling built on memories upon memories, past and present and a hope for future ones all tied down together. All sharing one common denominator: Her. Nalu. Tumblr Valentine’s Event. 

Fallen Ark Angel: Admittedly I only have interacted from afar with this writer. I mainly read Nalu fics but I love her take on Mira and Laxus and her next gen offspring characters. She’s got a lot to offer and it’s all superb. @fallen029

Loving Satan: Loving Satan is never easy. But when she loves you back, its twice as bad. 

Madartiste: Another one-sided love affair with someone else’s writing. And her stories are all wonderful and prolly appear on hundreds of Fic Rec Lists - but here’s one of my Favs! @madartiste  

Hoarding: Getting interrupted gets old fast. 

UranoMetria: I added her to my stable of fav authors 05-03-2014. Wow. Eons ago and even if I’m not sure she’s still active in the fandom, I salute her. Kudos. 

The Goddess Gate: With six years of partnership, Natsu and Lucy are torn apart by a mysterious visit from a secret magic council. Lucy is kidnapped and her memories suppressed. She fights her way back home to regain her life - with a startling secret revealed as she begins to remember. The lives of all Earthland hang in the balance. **Okay, this is a wicked old fic - but amazingly written and fuelled my own desires for writing. Last updated in 2018 but who knows? Some current attention may slay any demons on her back in regards to writing - and even if not - the hours of enjoyment reading this is worth giving a comment just to say, ‘thank you for writing.‘ 

Wild Rhov: Do I even need to say anything about this author? Famous, famous, famous. Excellent. Writes a lot of pairings and fleshes every relationship into something REAL. I Can’t Even. @wildrhov  

Beastly Possession: Something is murdering people in Magnolia. When Lucy is attacked, Natsu goes on a rampage to find the culprit, and everyone in Fairy Tail wants revenge. But could this bloodthirsty attacker be someone they know? Warning: High octane nightmare fuel! Do not read while eating, and beware of red eyes in the dark! 

Shell1331: Introduced via Imp. This writer is in a few fandoms and is worth reading. @shell-senji  

Juicy: Impulsivity and poorly chosen words get Natsu into more trouble than he’d expected, which is saying something for him. 

AbsentAngel: Everyone should know this writer. Been stalking her since 2014 so that says something. Tho, it’s prolly just that I’m creepy. ;) My suggested fic here is being re-written/has been? into something original and worth being purchased when it becomes available and re-read over and over. No, I am not being paid to shill but I am open to having senpai notice me. @absent-angel  

To the Flame: She stares, transfixed, as the blood runs down his fingers and begins to pool in his palm. He holds his hand up to her lips in offering, and she tears her eyes away from the blood to study his face. He is smiling softly. “Go on Luce, I didn’t cut them for nothing.” [Vamp AU] 

HawkofNavarre: Loved for awesome and delightful Gruvia content. Looks like there’s a tumblr but I can’t manage to link it. :(

You Stole the Rain: He just wanted to be friends; fine, she just needed to change his mind. Gray x Juvia 

Ricardian Scholar Clark-Weasley: Not sure I spelled that right even after checking three times! I usually short hand that to RS-CW in my head. And she’s prolific - has a tonne of fandoms and is a tower of talent. Is anyone reading all my fangirl gushing? 'Cause she follows one of my fics and comments (sorry I haven’t updated that fic in a while) and it’s a source of happiness that someone who writes so well happens to enjoy some of my content. Okay, bragging over - back to the Recs! 

Tales of Fairies: A collection of oneshots exploring different friendships, ideas, sad themes, comical scenarios, and lots and lots of pairings…but mainly Nalu. 

snogfairy: Another giant in the FT fandom. Impressive talent. @lineffability  

naughty nalus: smutty nalu oneshots B) ***Mature content!*** 

Rivendell101: Another giant in FT and other fandoms. This author would be considered required reading if I ran a fandom course in a University setting. Just sayin’ @rivendell101  

Crave: /krāv/ Verb. To feel a powerful desire for (something). They crave each other. And satiation doesn’t come easily. He growls against her again. “Beg for it,” he demands, lips ghosting against her. 

Lakerae aka @hidetheremote : Did you think I’d forgotten you? Ha! Gotcha good! You’re an inspiration to me because you’re working so hard to publish your children’s books. Kudos to you li'l sis! You’re busy but still make it a point to talk to me and I love you for that and everything.

The Gift of the Magi: A Gajevy Twist: A retelling of the classic Christmas story “The Gift of the Magi,” with your favorite Fairy Tail couple Gajeel and Levy! It’s Christmas time and Gajeel and Levy exchange gifts. They both are surprised what they receive and learn a lesson of the true meaning of Christmas. 

I could add more and more as I search my saved favs on FF.net ~ and I’m sorry to not include all of them - but this is crazy long as it is. If you read and like any of the recommended fics, please be sure to let the author know. To the authors of these and all fanfics, Thanks for everything.

[chenziee]

Snacks before Cake

[Read on AO3 or below the cut]

Ship: Law/Luffy

Words: 1406

Summary: Trafalgar Law wasn’t ready for what was waiting for him in his apartment on a certain November afternoon.

He had expected to find his boyfriend waiting for him so they could relax a bit before getting ready to leave for their friend’s birthday party. He wrapping paper everywhere, maybe even clothes on the floor from where Luffy tried to pick out their outfits. What he hadn’t expected was the mountain of colourful boxes on the coffee table.

AKA your regularly scheduled last minute Pocky Day fic.

-------------

Trafalgar Law wasn’t ready for what was waiting for him in his apartment on a certain November afternoon.

He had expected to find his boyfriend waiting for him so they could relax a bit before getting ready to leave for their friend’s birthday party. He had expected to find wrapping paper everywhere, maybe even clothes on the floor from where Luffy had tried to pick out their outfits. What he hadn’t expected was the mountain of colourful boxes on the coffee table.

“Luffy-ya, what the hell?” Law asked, voice flat as he dropped his bag on the floor next to the couch his boyfriend was sitting on.

“Oh! Hi, Torao!” Luffy paused his game and let his head fall back to look at Law behind him, a wide grin on his face, a stick covered in green chocolate held safely in between his teeth.

Law huffed at the sight of him craning his neck back at an angle that shouldn’t be humanly possible, before he caved in and leaned down to press a quick, upside-down kiss to the corner of Luffy’s mouth. Only the corner because fuck if he was sharing half-eaten food with anyone, even if the other person was his boyfriend. “So what’s with all the Pocky?” he asked once they pulled away.

“It’s Pocky Day,” Luffy stated, looking at Law as if he was stupid for asking the obvious.

Blinking, Law looked pointedly at the coffee table, doing a quick count. “Twelve boxes. Because of Pocky Day.”

Luffy’s cheeks puffed up. “I know. It’s so little—” he paused to gulp down the rest of the sweet stick in his mouth— “but with the birthday party, I forgot to stock up.”

Law took a deep breath, wondering why he was even surprised; it wasn’t like Luffy didn’t eat constantly even without any food related holiday. But twelve boxes? “You’re going to get sick,” Law noted off-handedly, finally walking around the couch to join Luffy.

“I don’t get sick,” Luffy announced proudly, as if having a stomach of steel and terrible eating habits was something to gloat about.

This idiot was seriously ridiculous. Law was glad he wasn’t his doctor. Hoped he wouldn’t be his doctor—although, at the rate he was going, Luffy was asking for heart problems a few years down the road. But no matter how many times Law would try to scold him or try to get him to eat better, Luffy was stubborn and absolutely refused.

He wasn’t above throwing Law’s caffeine addiction in his face either, so Law eventually gave up.

“Are you planning to finish all that before we have to leave for Zoro-ya’s party or…?” Law asked conversationally when Luffy reached for a new box.

Law automatically put his arm around his boyfriend’s shoulders when he scooted over, pink box in one hand, video game controller in the other. “Torao, are you underestimating me?” Luffy shot back in return, a snicker accompanying his words.

Shaking his head, Law wondered why he even asked. Of course Luffy was planning on eating it all in under the hour they had left, and probably also eating everything Sanji was going to bring to the party. He made a mental note to try to save enough of the cake so that the birthday boy would get at least a slice. Nami really knew what she was doing when she forbade them from helping with the preparations and Law had to wonder how many parties his boyfriend had managed to ruin before he and his friends even started high school.

Suddenly, something nudged at his mouth and Law looked down, coming face to face with Luffy’s bright eyes, his mouth stretched in a grin around a new Pocky stick, which he was sucking on like a complete savage. Law would never understand what was so fun about licking the chocolate off until the biscuit was all soggy and then gulping the entire thing down because what was the point if you weren’t going to snap it? Why was this man like this, and why did Law tolerate it? It was honestly probably because the barbarian was so cute while doing inhumane things like biting into whole KitKats and sucking on Pocky—and because Law was weak.

Always weak to those eyes.

“Why are you poking me with a Pocky?” Law asked finally, pulling away a little bit in an effort to stop the incessant prodding.

Luffy cocked his head to the side, his eyebrows furrowing together slightly in confusion when he replied, “Don’t you want one?”

Law’s eyes slid down to eye the pink stick that was still hovering uncomfortably close and made a face. Fucking strawberry. “No, but thanks,” he refused simply, stopping himself from saying anything more. God knew he ranted about artificial strawberry anything more than enough on the regular.

“Oh right!” Luffy cried a split second later, slapping his forehead. “Sorry, I always forget you’re weird.”

Law scowled. The person who couldn’t even eat chocolate on a stick properly had no right to tell him he was weird for disliking a flavour, no matter how widely popular said flavour might be. But before he could so much a click his tongue at his so-called boyfriend, Luffy moved away from him and towards his Pocky pile, putting the strawberry flavour aside in favour of taking one of the other boxes out and returning to Law’s side.

“Sorry, I ate all the matcha—” Luffy apologized when he settled under Law’s arm again, ripping the box open— “but I still have blueberry!” There was a wide, triumphant grin on his face when he pulled out the thicker, light purple stick and shoved it in front of Law’s face.

Law chuckled at Luffy’s enthusiasm before he looked him straight in the eyes and leaned forward, slowly licking his lips; he took great pleasure in the way Luffy’s eyes stared transfixed at his mouth, and he had to stop himself from smirking and ruining the show too early. He waited until he saw Luffy gulp in response to the way his teeth closed around the Pocky stick gently, and then… he quickly broke the stick, the beautiful, satisfying snap of it breaking Luffy from his reverie.

Law would never get tired of how quickly Luffy could go from happy to flustred, or how amazingly bright his blush was. It was incredibly rare to see Luffy either flail or blush, which made the experience all the more gratifying, and Law didn’t bother to try to stifle the laugh that forced its way out of his chest.

He was just so adorable, especially the way he pouted over Law’s amusement while folding his arms over his chest. Luffy was probably trying to look upset and reprimanding but he only managed to look like a puppy who was upset over not getting a treat. Law’s smirk only widened at the thought, and he couldn’t resist ruffling Luffy’s hair.

The way the younger man leaned into his touch was pretty puppy like, too.

He wondered what would happen if he voiced his thoughts, whether Luffy would growl at him or if he would whine, but he resisted the temptation. He could tease Luffy more later when they didn’t have a birthday party to attend. And so, he only pulled Luffy a little bit closer, pressing a quick, little kiss to his temple.

“Don’t tease me,” Luffy grumbled but seemed to melt at the brief touch, relaxing into Law’s side as he put the rest of the half-eaten blueberry Pocky into his mouth. “You know you’re the only person I share food with.”

Law felt a genuine, soft smile pull at his lips. That was probably as close to a declaration of love as Luffy would ever get and Law would be lying if he said it didn’t make him happy, didn’t make butterflies go crazy in his stomach, as cheesy as it sounded.

“And you’re the only person I let hand feed me their food,” Law mumbled back, and goddamn it, now he was the one blushing.

These indirect confessions were seriously more embarrassing then simply saying ‘I love you’ but… the smile he got in return was worth it. Was worth any cheesy and embarrassing sentence; this man really had him wrapped around his little finger but Law couldn’t say he cared.

He truly loved this idiot, bright smiles and a mountain of Pocky and all.

[machi-kun]

offerings

In the North, Antonio learns, the rules are as follows: Vikings offer gifts to the powerful Gods, and the less powerful offer gifts to the Vikings.

Antonio is now one such gift.

This is a fill for the 2020 Stony Bingo, Round 2. Square O-1: furs

Read it on AO3 | Viking AU, Arranged Marriage, Implied Sexual Content | Rated M

****

The wedding is a rambunctious thing.

There is drinking and dancing to no end. The Clan is boisterous and loud, in a way the Court was never allowed to be, back home – even in weddings. They are lively in a way the Court never is, never has been, not since Antonio could remember. Their music thumps directly into his chest, drums and flutes played with vigor and strength, and it should be disturbing, maybe even scary, but it’s… not.

He’s not scared. Of this land, of their music, or their strange traditions.

He’s also not scared, despite his initial concerns, of his husband.

The Captain, the only name Antonio knows him for, is a frankly impressive man. He is tall where Antonio already is considered somewhat small, his hair is the color of sand and his eyes are a startling blue. A rare color in the South, but far more common here, from what Antonio can see in his husband’s company. His stature is imposing, but not as much as his width, shoulders so large that the fur laid on them does nothing to disguise how broad they are, just as his hands are big, from that Antonio could see, when they first met – when the Captain guarded his weapon of choice, a shield, such an unexpected thing –, and from what he could feel, when during the ceremony, they held hands so the Clan’s priestess could wrap a rope around them, effectively tying them together in the eyes of their Gods.

Perhaps he shouldn’t stare; But he’s a long way from home, and this is home now, so the Court customs do not matter – Antonio has always been daring, and he will do as he pleases, even if it’s scandalous.

He is married to a Viking now.

Scandal is the last thing he is worried about.

Both Antonio and his husband are masterfully decorated in intricate ways, which now Antonio has come to learn are the typical appearance of a wedding in this Clan. His hair is not long enough to braid, not like his husband’s, much less such a magnificent design – so he has been decorated with amazingly delicate items, gold strings and flowers and pretty shells, a crown of sorts, to match the opulence his husband seems to carry on his person by pure nature. His clothes, kindly provided by the Clan he now must call his own, are not at all like the garments he would wear if he were marrying closer to home – as he should have been. Not at all. There is no velvet or beads, no corsets or flowers, or waistcoats and lace and all sorts of delicate things. No. The North is rough. It’s demanding and strong, like his husband, sharp and deadly, but Antonio feels no cold.

The warmth of the rich wine offered to him has settled so deep into his bones he feels like he could be protected from the blizzards and snow forever, the heat of the pyre pleasant from where they sit, and his husband—

His husband’s mere presence more than enough to make Antonio feel much warmer than he should.

The festivities do not stop when the Captain offers him his hand, and no one halts their drinking or dancing when the man beside them, the man Antonio assumes is the Captain’s right hand, yells to the crowd to announce their leave. The Clan cheers back, raising their cups and stomping loudly on the soil, rattling metal and leather, thunderous joy shaking Antonio to his core. The song becomes louder and their singing is no different from a war cry, but it inspires no dread – only the most vivid delight. Antonio did not think they would be so jubilant at the prospect of a foreigner marrying one of their most valuable fighters, but something in this union seems to please them. Is this what all their weddings look like? No wonder the people in the South thought them savages; Imagine, expressing genuine emotion and happiness in the Court? As if.

Dare he say it – this is fun. It puts a smile on his face, no matter how small, because he’s just not used to smiling wide anymore, it seems. Perhaps his new people can teach him how.

Maybe they can teach him to be loud, to be joyous, to be a fighter.

If the South will give him away, Antonio will embrace the North, if the North will have him.

And from the grip of the Captain’s hand on his as he is lead to his tent, it seems like it will.

Once inside, the Captain lays him down on his bed; Opulent, luscious furs, warm and silken, strewn on the cold floor, surrounded by the gifts and offerings presented to them as wishes of good fortune in their union. Gold and jewels, weapons and fruit, and rare items Antonio has only ever dreamed of seeing in his lifetime – He is placed among them, flanked by treasures, and at last he is where he was intended, with the Captain’s spoils, the most valuable gift his Kingdom could offer.

Perhaps he should feel slighted. At first, he did.

But where the North is cold, the furs and his husband’s skin are warm.

He has been gentle, he has been kind. They do not understand each other, not yet – they don’t speak each other’s languages, but the Captain’s voice is always low and unthreatening, and Antonio finds himself oddly transfixed when he talks. He did not scream, and he did not growl, as rumors he had heard so often in the South said; This man is no beast. Not in the sense he had been made to believe, at least.

He is strong, that is true. Strong and tall, and powerful, and uses a defensive item to attack, a contradiction that only serves to confuse and fascinate Antonio to no end. Full of contradictions, his husband. The patience and caution, too, when the Captain undresses, his cape and coverings falling from his absurdly large shoulders to join the furs beneath them with no care, no concern if they will end up soiled in any way in their wedding night. His movements are slow, as if Antonio is a particularly spooked deer, who might run at the sight of the barest threat.

A fair assumption, if unexpected.

And completely unnecessary.

His husband is big, but he is not threatening – he is… a source of protection. He is intimidating, but in an oddly transfixing way, as powerful men often are. Antonio’s fingers twist on the pelt beneath him, the thick, soft hairs pleasant and satisfying to grasp, the perfect brace as his breath escapes in a fleeting gasp at the rush of want that crashes in his body suddenly, by the sight of the Captain kneeling before him on the furs, coming closer, but he is not deterred – he removes his furs too, adding them to the pile where they lay, as eager to get undressed as his husband. Perhaps he shouldn’t. It’s desperate, unbecoming, even.

But he is curious, and he is warm, and he’s free, and he is, it seems, desired.

The Captain raises his eyes, that shine with the color of the ocean, and he growls the word Antonio has come to learn means, in his language, a name he would have never expected to receive for himself.

Beloved.

Antonio’s cheeks burn with heat, and he opens his knees and spreads his legs, sliding his feet apart and taking shameful enjoyment in the feel of the furs between his toes, the warmth in his body, and the sheer desire that blooms in his husband’s face. It’s so deeply entrancing. The Captain, stalking forward like a lion, crawls over Antonio in a graceful move, and places himself between Antonio’s thighs, a place that now belongs to him, and him alone.

The touch of his lips tastes like mead. It’s soft, and hot, and a little demanding, and Antonio knows that this, this, is his husband at his core.

His Captain.

Tony wishes he knew his name. He’ll have to learn. He wants to. He wants to learn how it’ll taste in his mouth much like the Captain is licking into his mouth to learn his taste, he wants to know how it’ll sound in his voice, with his accent, if it’ll be as endearing to his husband as his low sighs are to his own ears. Antonio wishes for more warmth too, more skin – and this wish he can be granted, and so, he pulls on his husband’s robes, his too tough leather and metals, demanding to touch what’s beneath.

His husband lets out a noise that sounds suspiciously like a laugh, and he says something Antonio cannot understand.

Antonio wants. He wants, and wants, and he did not imagine he would want it this much.

There is no time to think, only to feel. Feel, as his husband removes own his garments and brings Antonio’s hands to his chest, firm and sculpted like the most expensive marble, so tempting under the ethereal candlelight. It is customary, Antonio has heard, that the wedding night should be witnessed by at least five other people in the Clan, but they are alone, and he is grateful for it – he is shocked by how pleased he is at the idea that this body, this man now belongs to him too, and no one else can have him.

Blessed be the Gods, Antonio thinks, despite never before having praised a deity, too trapped in the questions of men to give much care to the demands of spirits, For this gift.

This offering, he remembers, as the Captain’s lips descend upon his’ once more, and he opens his mouth, inviting him in without a second thought. Freely given.

In exchange for my devotion, he moans, into his husband’s mouth, as his own clothes are pushed away, and skin presses against skin, and suddenly, that is not enough.

I accept it, as he wraps his arms around his husband’s shoulders, and his legs around his waist, and lets himself be washed away by sensation, by the craving—

Willing, he gasps, wet and panting, when he’s turned around and pressed into the softness of the furs beneath, rubbing against them in sensual, quivering contentment when his husband leans over him and pulls his hips up, towards his own—

And ready, as his eyes roll back in pleasure, as he’s breached.

To serve your temple for the rest of my days.

Antonio does not know the last part of this hymn. He did not have time to learn.

All he knows is worship tastes good on his tongue.

[theoriginalladya]

Six Sentence Sunday & WIP Whenever

So, this is a larger piece of what I’ve been working on, and guess what, it’s SUNDAY!  So have Six Sentences + WIP.  This is for Michael Shepard/Kaidan Alenko.

(this idea hit me the other day while making dinner and would not leave my head!)

Set post ME1.

~~~~~~~

It’s another twenty minutes and some fancy driving through heavy traffic in the center of Vancouver itself before Kaidan dips off the main highway and continues on city streets.  The buildings are older here; not the sharp, clean lines of more modern construction, but reminiscent of more than a century ago.  In a way, it reminds Shepard of home; of the darker, run down parts of the city where he and the Reds operated.  This area isn’t quite as dark or run down, at least at the moment, but once it gets dark …?

“Here we are.”

Pulled from his thoughts, Shepard watches Kaidan slide the vehicle into a single parking space with practiced ease.  There’s barely enough room for the vehicle to fit, but he makes it work as easily as he tosses his biotics around during battle. “Damn,” Shepard mutters, a soft laugh of appreciation chasing it, “no wonder you hate it when I drive the Mako!”

Kaidan chuckles but says nothing as he exits. Shepard follows him out.  Standing on the streets, the sun is out of sight as it sets, fallen behind several of the taller buildings in the area, but the sky is clear.  Street lights are flickering on at an uneven rate, but the light provided is enough to see where they’re going.  

“This way.”

Shepard follows him down the street, no more than a half block, to an old stone building sitting on the corner.  There are a half dozen signs above the entryway, advertising everything from a dentist’s office to an after school tutoring office, but it’s the large sign painted on the window that catches his eye.  K’s Kafe.  Shepard pauses, a smile curling at his lip as he notices the delicate scroll work that decorates the letters.  There’s also a sign on the door that reads, “Closed for private party.”  He glances over at Kaidan, gives him a curious look, but says nothing as they head inside.

The interior of the building is cozy; there’s no other word to fit it.  No more than two dozen tables, a candle in the center of each.  The main dining room is dark, but this doesn’t stop Kaidan who heads towards the back, through a doorway and a short hall, and then turns right. On the other side of a heavier, larger door they step into the kitchen.  

Shepard isn’t certain what he expects, but finding a lone woman standing at an industrial stove singing at the top of her lungs as she cooks certainly isn’t it.  Dressed in a flared skirt and an oversized sweater, her waist length nearly black hair is twisted into some sort of messy bun type style on the top of her head with a few loose wisps hanging free.  Somewhere deeper in the room, music is being fed in, but it’s impossible to hear if it’s the same song as the one she sings.  Not that she has a bad voice, he decides.  In fact, her vocals are quite good, in his honest opinion, and she certainly could go up against any sergeant in Alliance uniform in the category of belting out orders.  “Who’s that?” he hisses over at Kaidan.

Kaidan grins but doesn’t reply.  Instead, he cups his hands around his mouth and bellows out loud enough for her to hear, “Ten hut!”

For half a second, Shepard waits for a yell, a scream, some sort of protest from her or an indication she’s been startled, at the very least.  Instead, he is transfixed as she grabs the towel tucked around her waist, seemingly to protect her clothing from the food, and tosses it without a backward glance directly at Kaidan.  “Quit your grandstanding, and get over here and help me or you’ll be eating what burns!”

Amazingly, Kaidan hustles over.  Shepard hasn’t seen him move that fast since  …  Well, maybe since never in the time they’ve known one another.  Not even the rachni on Noveria or the husks on the Citadel got him moving so quickly. Shepard follows after him, a bemused smile on his lips.

Kaidan slides into place next to the woman, tossing the towel onto a counter nearby and reaching for one of the pans on top of the stove.  Without so much as a question as to what she wants him to do, he jumps right in.  They work in silence together for approximately fifteen minutes by Shepard’s chronometer, at which point, she reaches over, flicks several dials to the right and wipes her sleeve along her brow.  “Whew!  Good timing there, K,” she says flashing Kaidan an easy grin.  “I thought I might have misjudged when you left.”

Kaidan steps back from the stove but leans over to press a quick kiss to her cheek.  “Never,” he swears.  “Shepard, I’d like you to meet Kandra – owner of K’s Kafe.  Kan, this is Commander Michael Shepard.”

The woman turns and Shepard finally gets a good look at her … and his breathing stops.  Her face is stunning, no doubt about it, but standing next to Kaidan, it’s impossible not to see the resemblance between them.  The shock must show on his face, because Kandra grins and glances over at Kaidan.  “You didn’t tell him?”

“Tell me what?  That you are brother and sister?” he asks.  “That’s kind of hard to miss when you are right next to each other like that.”

“Actually,” Kaidan clarifies, his cheeks flushing just slightly pink, “we’re twins.”

“I’m the older one,” Kandra adds.  “He’s the baby.”

[dustedmagazine]

Listed: Three Lobed Recordings

For 20 years, Three Lobed Recordings has explored the outer reaches of psychedelic music, presenting Bardo Pond’s heaviest, most improvisatory albums, documenting the American primitive revival via recordings of Jack Rose and Daniel Bachman, listening to emanations from space-age folk troubadours like Wooden Wand, Sunburned Hand of the Man and Matt Valentine and generally pursuing the beauty of experiment, wherever it occurs. To celebrate these past two fruitful decades, label founder Cory Rayborn lists ten of the albums that define Three Lobed (and, necessarily, leaves out others equally valid and interesting). We look forward to lots more in the decades to come.

Personal Choice Cuts from the TLR Catalog (in no particular order, 9 of which might be different if you were to ask me tomorrow).

Gunn-Truscinski Duo — Ocean Parkway (2012)

Ocean Parkway by Gunn-Truscinski Duo

Every time I listen to this album, especially the title track, I feel transported. Long ago my college roommate Jon Nall articulated a test for transcendent songs, for the ones that impact you no matter how many times you hear them. He summed those all-time tracks up as the ones where the hairs on your arms uncontrollably stand up every time you hear them. While every track on this album does it for me every time, throwing me into a sort of uncontrollable head nod and body sway, I am always fully taken away by the entirety of the title track and Steve's swirling guitar build over the entire eighth minute punctuated by the ecstatic tones he hits at 9:06. Yow. The feeling I get from this album is why the label exists.

Various Artists — Eight Trails, One Path (2012)

Eight Trails, One Path by Various Artists

Record Store Day is tough. I love the attention and cash it puts into the hands of independent retailers but hate how commodified it has become over time by the powers that be / majors who see it as an excuse to pump out a bunch of junk that will end up being shelf warmers and ankle weights on those same retailers they claims to be supporting. The first few years when most of the titles were truly from and by indies it was a lot of fun. That was the feeling that led to wanting to put out an RSD title in mid-2011 (an illness I’ve since overcome). Originally conceived as a joined pair of split 7"s, it morphed into a triple 7" and then to a full length album. I wanted to showcase different approaches to solo guitar work and set out to ask a lot of my favorites. I also wanted to put together a special package which was fleshed out with help by Casey Burns on graphics, Grayson Haver Currin on words and Jeff Mueller on printing. I’m still amazed at the interlocked nature of all of the contributions to this one, from Six Organs’ spiritual sibling to “Ascent” in the form of “Stranded on Io” (a track that is a wordless tale all within itself) to the circular beauty of David Daniell’s “Housewarming” and everything else on here. I really love this record.

Tom Carter — Long Time Underground (2015)

Long Time Underground by Tom Carter

Late in 2013 I was chatting with Tom about what shape a record should take. He wanted to go to Black Dirt and get a good, clean capture of what he had been working on with Jason Meagher. TLR is always onboard with a Black Dirt election. Fast forward several months and family TLR was visiting some friends in Vermont around the same time Tom was in the area. We met up and he handed off the masters for a double LP. While we knew that the mix of Tom’s playing, Tom’s writing and Jason’s engineering was going to be magical but we had no idea of the exact form or how insanely potent the album was going to be. Damn. Seriously, just listen to this stuff and absorb that these are all single takes, no overdubs. Haunting and celebratory all at once.

Daniel Bachman — The Morning Star (2018)

The Morning Star by Daniel Bachman

It is pretty fun to watch the arc and path that Daniel’s writing, recording and performing have taken over the last 15 years. From powerhouse steamroller to the intersection of musique concrète and acoustic drone, his current location could maybe have been seen in his early recordings but you likely would have lost most of those dice rolls. The Morning Star speaks to me in so many ways but the stunning bookends of “Invocation” and “New Moon” always hit like a ton of bricks. What is amazing is how Daniel can turn these album cuts into live performances. I saw “New Moon” several times while Daniel was in the process of touring this 2016 self-titled album, always transfixed by it live — the album version loses none of that potency. On the other hand, Daniel re-created “Invocation” at the 2018 Three Lobed / WXDU Annual Ritual of Summoning to stunning effect.

The Michael Flower Band — self-titled (2008)

The Michael Flower Band by The Michael Flower Band

An audio / aural bomb blast, a kosmik rearrangement of the space/time directly around the listener. This take no prisoners statement from Mick Flower (guitar) and John Moloney (drums) is a deep slice for catalog enthusiasts. Just tune into “Balinese Falsehood” and try to not get fully lost. Years ago I described this as “biker psych for the third eye rider” and I’ll stand by that statement fully today.

Wooden Wand and the World War IV — self-titled (2013)

Wooden Wand & the World War IV by Wooden Wand & the World War IV

Picking between Wooden Wand titles is hard for this particular enthusiast but if forced I think I have to push the needle towards the intense Crazy Horse vibes of this studio corker. Surrounded by the “Briarwood” band, perhaps the most telepathic folks with whom Toth has ever played, the results are electric and transfixing. Will I kick myself tomorrow for not picking Clipper Ship? TBD...

Meg Baird & Mary Lattimore — Ghost Forests (2018)

Ghost Forests by Meg Baird and Mary Lattimore

I don’t remember when it came to me, the fact that there wasn’t a deliberately ground-up collaboration between Meg and Mary in existence. I had to ask them if that was purposeful or a gap that was truly something that we should remedy, a question where I had my fingers crossed the entire time. They were both really into the concept, it just took the triangulation of busy satellites to make all of our desires into reality. The results are as sturdy, sheltering and invisible at the edges as the album's title, facts that we are all the better for each time we wrap ourselves in this particular fabric. An all-timer.

Jack Rose — The Black Dirt Sessions (2009)

The Black Dirt Sessions by Jack Rose

I had the good luck and fortune to get to know Jack back in the Pelt days and watch his transition from that ensemble into the singular player and performer that he was for the last eight years of his too short life. Watching a Jack set was always a tiny miracle. I remember him calling me one day, telling me that he had gone to record with Jason Meagher and he had a record that he would really love for me to put out if I was interested. Not only was I most most certainly interested, but I was amazingly humbled and flattered that this friend who I also considered a modern master had recorded something specifically for me without even discussing it with me first. That level of trust was the gift and magic of Jack. If he believed in you that belief gave you all of the power you needed to make anything reality, you were suddenly bulletproof. Every track here is a stunner but “Cross the North Fork” always pulls me in, dares me to turn my attention anywhere else. Rest in power, friend.

Chuck Johnson — Crows In The Basilica (2013)

Crows In The Basilica by Chuck Johnson

Every track on this perfectly constructed and sequenced album is flawlessly beautiful but “On A Slow Passing In Ghost Town” is one of the top 10 tracks in the entire TLR catalog in my estimation. Exactingly and properly composed, performed and recorded.

Bardo Pond — Peri (2009)

Peri by Bardo Pond

The love of Bardo Pond was the seed that initially drove me to create a record label. Their single-minded determination to seek audio truth was apparent to me ages ago and so very inspirational. I ate up everything — the releases, the live shows, the live recording — and I hung on every note. The band had a lot of really, really great tunes that they had been working on between 2001 and 2003, the period between their departing Matador for ATP Records. I could never shake the power of several of the tracks from this era that sort of got abandoned to the shifts of time. After several conversations with Michael Gibbons two albums were born from that period and from some other exceptionally potent tracks. Batholith was the first of these two albums and Peri, the second. Both are so very special to me, the fruit of knowing folks needed to hear these compositions. When writing here I have to pick Peri today as it closes with “Silver Pavilion,” an all-time Bardo Pond thesis statement of sorts.

[lumberingleviathan]

Minotaur x Reader PT 2

Thanks to the amazingly kind request from @smikis-stuff, Here’s part two of the Minotaur fic! Part one here

Warnings: Lemon

~X~

Though the labyrinth proves itself a cage, you are learning the routes of it. No moving wall can dissuade your goal now; maneuvering with a sure footed courage you didn’t have before. How the memory lingers, tentatively moving your way in deeper, and deeper. How much fear had gripped at your heart, the weight of expectation from your village at your back.

You had been meant for only one purpose, to pay the blood tax of life. A gift to the gods in exchange for peace- how little a price it might seem to those not chosen to foot the bill. The late evening watching the fireflies kick up in the fields, wistfully wondering if a summer rain was on the way. No thought that your future would change so immensely, so caught up in your own thoughts you hadn’t noticed being chosen.

How it felt to suddenly be seen, all eyes turned towards you, your fate sealed.

It should have been the end, the day you crept into the clearing, but it hadn’t. Even now it seems like a far off dream, the vicious beast turned docile at your touch- turned feral in a way that heated right down to your toes. The labyrinth was now your home as well, no one would take you back- and you could never bring yourself to leave him either. The feel of him beneath you, chest rising, and falling; ballooning your form up with each inhale. How small you felt, cheek brushing against the hard muscle of him. Fingertips gently tracing scar tissue, as if somehow you could pull the making of them into your own body. That you might concoct a way to undo the harm done, if only you’d been born a witch, or maybe even that of the fey.

Surely then you might offer him true help.

Words though, words you’re learning to give him, even as his tongue troubles against the thickness of his lips. Clicks against the back of his teeth, he’s learning though, voice rich, and deep, breathy at the tail end of each word. The sky above you glitters with the gems of constellations, the names of which he knows, too, more than even you.

He holds you against him now, laying out in the soft grass, the largeness of his hand splaying fingers across your stomach. “I was old when the sky was still new.” He says, near whispers in the low timber of his voice. His ears flicking quick against the breeze, a flare of nostrils when you shift. Moving to prop yourself up on his chest, “Were you always here?” The question has gnawed at you now, weeks you’ve spent, learning this place, learning him, and how he offers you the same courtesy.

A question for a question.

“No, once I was in lands teeming green, once there were flowers so yellow the sun envied them.” As he speaks he noses at you, the ease of his hands now drifts, pulls at your dress, prods at your ribs. There’s other things he’s learning too, a kind of hunger you can give him no true name for, new as it is to yourself. The question he asks is a silent one, slowly shifting your legs spread over his chest, knees digging into his ribs. Your dress pools up against your waist, rich crimson fabric, he slides it through his fingers. The way he touches you is decadent, long passes, hands raising to draw up your spine, curling over your shoulders.

Behind you his hips lift, before a huff of air lowers you again. Patience is a thing he’s learning, too, “How do we get out?” Your next question, while your fingers work through his fur, drag nails slowly over the skin beneath. How he shudders, and ruts upwards, a smirk on your face. The hands on your shoulders move to your dress, how the void of his eyes stays steady on you even as he tears open your dress.

Such slow degrees, revealing you inch by inch, while spot foams slightly at his mouth. Palming at your left breast, working it in his palm, while your head tilts back, hair curtaining down with the motion. Hades at your thoughts, “Out.” You question, firmer now squeeze your knees against him, even while his other hand drifts down, a thick index finger splitting the seam of you. “There is no out.” He counters, while his finger starts to work slow circles against your nerves. Breath catching, knees starting to tremble.

“Magnus.” He told you once he had a name, but time stole it- Magnus is the one you’ve given him. The one he likes to hear. How he’s teasing the folds of you, still on his back, “Why would you want to leave?” Is what he asks, the chain that once held him broken six days past. How he’d told you he finally had a reason, that he’d found a new chain.

Frustration blooms as you try to grind against his touch, voice a plea this time, “Magnus-“ he licks his lips, tongue large, and how you remember all too keenly what it felt like inside of you. The thought makes you shiver even while he’s slowly pushing you back. Down his chest, nestling against his stomach, you can feel the hardness of his cock against your back. “We could go somewhere, make a home-“ you manage, losing thought when his index presses into you. Curls in slightly, and your moan riles him all the more. His cock twitching, even while you start to shameless fuck yourself onto his finger.

“We are home.” But even he’s losing the argument, that he can not imagine any place better so long as it has you. That the sky is endless and vast, and that perhaps a great sea awaits on the horizon, but it is nothing compared to looking at you now. The flush of your face, the wanton cant of your hips. More so the way you look at him, like he isn’t a thing to fear- but love, maybe.

He dare not say the word.

For their is power in such things, and he’s all but sold to you as is. Your hand reaching back, working at his cock, squeezing at the head while pre-cum sticks against your fingers. “Later,” it’s an offer he gives, that later he might speak of out, but now? Now there’s only relenting to what’s been building at each touch. How he lifts you, gaze transfixed as he lowers you onto him. It’s always like the first time, almost always just this edge of too much, before it proves not enough. Not until you’re flush against him, and your mouths going dry,

The stars seem so close with your head thrown back, while he lets you set the pace. Let’s you ride him even while his fingers dig in against your hips. His own head jerks, turns to the side, left horn gouging into the earth. Kicking up dirt, and you’ve lost all rhythm, there’s just frantic now. As if with your body alone you can convince him of more, the world beyond this, beyond you both.

For all of him he never jerks you beneath him, seems to reveal in you taking him. In being able to watch how his cock splits you, how well you take it again, and again. Back hoof cracking hard behind you each time, like he can’t figure what to do with the rest of him. That when you break it sends you forward, mouth almost clumsy against his own. That it’s too small by comparison,  his tongue fills your mouth, all but gag against it taking so much space. Let your teeth sink into the meat of it, and feel him spasm beneath you.

How later, he walks you towards a stream, water moving towards the walls. He walks just behind you, how his hand rests at the small of your back. “If we go, we can’t come back. If we go, they will hunt us.” You lift your head to look up at him, how in the moonlight he gleams. The gold adorning his horns all but glitters like this, and you nod, turning towards the walls. One by one they seem to slide back, exposing the stream more with each wall you step past. The air starts to grow colder, whips at your hair, and his hold on you only tightens.

He only asks once more, “You’re sure?” This time you don’t speak words, but instead use his language. Reaching for his arm you turn, stepping back, pulling him with you. One step at a time, each walk you pass seals up once more, taking you both further away from the courtyard, and out into a world yet known. There isn’t green waiting for you hear, but the taste of salt in the air. Sand beneath your feet where the stream feeds out into water spread so far you can’t see anything on the horizon.

There isn’t the same fear you felt first stepping into the labyrinth. Though there’s no walls you know this is a new maze, one where there’s no sure footed path.

Yet you are no longer alone, but free. Walking towards the waters edge, Magnus behind you. How he pauses to breathe in deep, and his laughter bellows warmer than anything  towards the sky.

It seems there are things to discover yet.

[brooklynislandgirl]

@mynameisanakin {{xx}}

There is a subtle weight to the way Anakin looks at her. It’s not the oppressiveness of absolutely darkness nor of deep water, but more like the anticipation before a storm breaks. Ions dancing across her skin that make the small hairs on the back of her neck rise. Winnows its way down through her limbs before diffusing throughout the rest of her. It makes her want to ask if he feels that too but the time is never right and she doesn’t want to expose herself to the kind of scrutiny that he is capable of. Instead she focuses on the corners of his mouth and urges them through sheer willpower alone to quirk into a smile. One that will rise like her four moons until it reaches its zenith in his eyes. It’s a childish want and she knows it. She also knows it is in these small moments that such things are possible. That he might indulge her like he can’t or won’t in other situations. And it’s the closest she comes to admitting to herself that she both misses him and is envious of the long leash the masters give him. Admits that sometimes when she’s knee deep in holocrons and bacta-tanks that he might find something out there that will find a way to keep him. To make him forget her. She knows his work is important. His adventures are things she likes to listen to in rapt fascination. The dreams of other worlds and other people. A thousand lives strung together like a garland of little lights and he touches them all even if it’s in the smallest of ways. Hers isn’t the same but it suits her, she supposes, even if the excitement she hoped for long ago is now confined to the halls and byways of the Temple, rather than at his side like she imagined years ago. When Anakin is gone, there is space. Expansive and cold and empty despite other bodies and the soft, syllabant whispers that remind her of restless ghosts. Again, not wholly unpleasant as abject silence would be, but markedly different, as though he takes the idea of living with him and only gives it back when his boots touch the floor of the docking bay. By slow degrees her fingers find his sleeves. Glide over the warp and weft of the fabric. Stop at the crooks of his elbows. They linger there, insouciant vagrants finding a place to squat, making themselves at home. His physical presence isn’t that much different than his spiritual one in the Force; the biggest difference is the scent of him, the warmth that is lacking when he’s just a thought, a mental reach far longer than her limbs can possibly imagine. She soaks it in. Allows it to seep into parts of her untouched and untamed until she picks up his natural rhythms. Until their separate breaths become one inhale, the same exhale. A sigh. Something that becomes a communion of intermingled sentiment that one could not extricate the pieces without sending the whole thing to the ground. She can’t quite tell what’s joy and relief from the brightness and the need. The way he cages her in with his arms she has no choice but to lower her hands to the vague area of that space between his waist and hips and finds no hardship in doing that. Closer still they grow until one bare foot rests between his and she relaxes utterly in the solidity she finds. How the pose, if viewed from the outside, finds a parallel in dim memories of home. A vague reminiscence of her fathers standing in the exact same way. Their faces carved into the very likeness of hers and his. Not the features but the emotions in them. And it’s funny to her how one moment she can be utterly transfixed by the feel of this ~of Anakin~ and the next moment she’s home. Not for the first time she wonders if it’s the same, or similar, for him. If he remembers where he came from with the same fondness. If she is just as close as he gets to be connected to his roots. That singular sense of peace and well-being. Of rightness in the moment and with the universe that they are told should not come from any one source but all of them. 

It is a gift that she cannot explain nor properly thank him for even if she had the words that might express those feelings. For all the reasons that should feel wrong she can’t. And maybe, deep down, below some substrata of her being she takes that vague semblance of stillness from him as a sign of the turbulence inside his mind that has yet to be able to find its way to his surfaces. She’s never minded that. The thrum of life so vibrant in his veins that it spilled out into the world around him. The voracious curiosity that he had about everything and everyone. It was just who he was and she absolutely loves him for that. And maybe some small part of her envies that kinetic energy because it’s something she lacks herself. There’s a good deal many things like that which are different between them and none is less fascinating than the rest. Almost as much as the slight sound that escapes him and teases a little laugh out of her that’s immediately hushed because it shows a lack of self-control and elegance. Another thing she is painfully aware of.

So intrinsically intertwined as they are both in a physical and spiritual sense she can practically taste a darker current to his light, can feel something shift in the currents that surround him and it peaks a brow over one eye in subtle query though she’s not entirely sure he can see her face to know that there’s a question written in her features. Though she has suspicions because she knows where her own thoughts had travelled. “He’s not here, Ani.” Not in the room, not even on Coruscant. Her Master had spent hours with Master Windu before he’d collected his things. Told her that she should practice her sabre techniques. Told her he’d contact her when he was on his way back. There’d been a certain look on his face that prevented her from asking questions even if she thought she’d die if she didn’t know. She was still alive and here so clearly that wasn’t a universal truth. She likes being separated from him, kept out of his web of secretive missions even less than she cares to be separated from Anakin. And that nascent hate is another thing that whispers her unsuitability, because no matter how hard she tries, there is a shadow of it that lingers. One that looks a lot like the look resting on his face and why she suspects that it is her Master or the idea of him that upsets him. Zarek is the only thing she could put a name to the shadows falling over Anakin. And she recognises it because she has very similar instincts when it comes to him and his own Master. Worse still when he casually mentions the Queen-now-Senator. She knows that he has loved Amidala longer than he’s known Keni herself, and she has no way of combating the influence of the Naboo woman’s ghost on him. A part of her fears that she will always be second best to the woman even though she is better suited for him. They are both Jedi. She knows Anakin in ways Amidala never can, and she doesn’t trust the woman’s sense of loyalty and fairness. She doesn’t believe the Senator would give everything up for him. That she would risk arguing with him at whatever personal cost because he’s stubborn sometimes. That she would listen to him even when he cannot bring himself to speak. That she would place him ahead of whatever manipulative agenda she thinks might be best for the Galactic Republic. Amidala is only a career politician after all. Like Palpatine, like Organa, like the rest. 

And if Amidala did not mean so much to him, Keni isn’t sure she would care so much. But the woman represents everything that he might crave some day; she is freedom, she is not a significant part of the Force. She is exquisitely beautiful. She sees things in ways Keni can not, and is not bound by the will of the Council.

Her fingers curl up in his robes with a tightness she isn’t even aware of possessing. The joy of their reunion robbed from her features until they’ve darkened considerable, her eyes too bright with restrained malice that she tries so very hard to subsume, to push down into the bedrock of her psyche where it can do no lasting damage.

She’s just about to pull away from him, sink back into herself and hide behind decades of practiced non-existence when he starts talking again, distracting her from the dozen different tangents she’s found herself trailing behind. And that’s when the puns begin. Each one of them carefully chosen, each one of them carrying weight until she realises what he’s actually saying and the look on her face changes from murderous to incredulous to somewhat horrified amusement. If she laughs she might hurt his feelings. If she doesn’t laugh she might hurt his feelings. And so she just freezes in the moment. Bit by bit everything else does around her so that she can only hear the sound of him breathing, the water in the little fountain in the corner of the room trickling into its basin. Until everything becomes singularly focused on the feel of his hand travel it’s way up her side to her shoulder and into her hair. Which tilts her into his fingers. Her eyes trek from his endless blue downward to the midpoint of his chest. Where her thick lashes close leaving her able to feel more than see, an absolute gesture in tribute of the trust she places in him. And where one set of fingers glide down her face a moment later, her own much smaller ones take to wandering on their own accord. Across his chest. Down his arm. To the glove. So very careful. So very gentle. Afraid the slightest pressure will send arcs of pain across what’s left of his still healing nerve endings. Where she laces them together, only a teensy bit unnerved by the lack of living flesh and bone beneath her own.

“What if,” she murmurs in a low, husky tone before she opens her eyes half way, all green embers in the dim lighting so very far from the innocence etched elsewhere. “That was the one I wanted to keep, Ani? It’s very practical after all. Strong and resilient. Mind of its own, too, so like it could do amazingly dangerous things all by itself. I mean it’s absolutely perfect.”

[berrybang97]

   “Hello, how can I help you?”

      Your smile burned into his mind like a scarlet ember in the ashes, a picture so clear and wholesome, one that he held onto and rememorated with great endearment every time the jet-pack blues kicked in and decided to overtake the tiniest bit of happiness he had left in that trembling soul of his.

    “H-Hi...,” he uttered in a timid voice, so quiet that, if it weren't for you incidentally looking at his lips shape around the word, you wouldn't be able to understand it.

      You suppressed a chuckle, head tilting to one side to analyse the boy in front of you. Although you've seen him around several times – given that you were the one that would take his order every time he stopped by – you couldn't help but admire his unintentional genuineness. He was really something else, and you didn't mind at all.

      He wasn't cocky, that you could guarantee. In fact, he was the most sheepish guy you have encountered in your whole career as a barista – which wasn't wide to begin with, you were just a part-timer that happened to have their shift match with the time span the boy sitting in front of the counter allocated for his daily caffeine-based beverage.

      You munched on your bottom lip so as to control the beaming grin that wanted to escape, and your eyes skimmed over his physique, taking in the beautiful details that seemed to charm you, and, therewith, spark a light of interest in your dreamy mind.

      His thin hair was dyed grey, as if sampled, with an eye-dropper, straight from the stormy clouds that would take over the sky on a rainy day. His bangs were already too long for him to blink comfortably, so he would sweep them away every two seconds – though you weren't exactly sure if it was the length of his hair or the obvious nervousness that made him thread his fingers through his lead-like locks so god damn often. In any way, you were in no place to complain – this simple action of his made him look a thousand times hotter.

      Moving down towards his eyes, you couldn't refrain yourself from simply admiring their beautiful shape and size – they were so big and, although almond-shaped, they would cut at the end in a winged line, offering him the flair of a tiny, adorable kitten. However, the eyeshadow that casted over his lids was in pure contradiction with your previous observation. It made him look more mature, and, oddly, even more masculine than he already was. Somehow, you felt your heart twitch at the thought, but you pushed it away as your gaze progressed downwards, past his amazingly-constructed pyramidal nose, and down to his plump, rose-tinted lips. What drove you crazy about him wasn't the luscious quality of his lips, nor the light-headening thought of how insanely soft they'd feel around yours. Instead, you found yourself dazed by the tiny mole that danced atop his mouth, a detail so cute, but oh-so-intoxicating, inducing, in your head, certain imagines that your brain should not produce about a mere client. Lastly, your eyes shifted towards his slender neck, and you gulped at how proeminent his Adam's apple was.

      You didn't want to admit it, but you wouldn't mind wrapping your hand around his neck, thumb padding at the tiny bump that protruded from his seemingly soft skin and moved along every time he spoke, and you also wouldn't mind having your lips melt against his in heated kisses that seemed nothing but prohibited in the current circumstances.

      You shook your head to wake yourself up from this exaggerated fantasy, cursing your own mind, in the process, for producing such sinful scenarios that had no place in a coffee shop, and definitely not during work hours.

      You cleared your throat. “So, uhm, what should it be?,” you asked innocently, trying to maintain your pristine posture. “The usual?”

      He managed a nod of the head, a molecular grin tugging at his lips. His hand dug into the pocket of his checkered, beige coat, grasping around for the leather wallet he had received just today. His birthday.

      As you were preparing his drink, you saw him pull out his new acquisition, and your brow arched in interest. “That must be new, right?,” you curiously questioned. “Your old one was made of some other kind of material. And it was brown, just like firewood,” you chuckled.

     He responded with a similar giggle, nodding and shaking his wallet as if to emphasise its uniqueness. “Yup, got rid of the old one,” he stated matter-of-factly. “This one's a gift.”

     You were already topping his drink with whipping cream when he said that. “Oh?”, you feigned wonder. “For what kind of occasion?”

     You could already guess the answer, but it was funnier to hear it from him, especially since you've already noticed a flush of pink creeping up on his cheeks. How adorable, he was getting shy all over again~

   “Uh...,” he was definitely becoming more flustered by the second, tugging at the collar of his blouse. “You know...”

      Your hand grasped the bottle of caramel topping, and you added a few, careful swirls on top of the whipped cream, popping on the lid once you were done.

      Seeing this, he was already counting the money in his wallet to extract the exact sum required for his prefered beverage. You shook your head, picking up a black, permanent marker that laid atop the counter. “Nu-uh,”, your pursed your lips, scribbling on the surface of the cup.

      He furrowed his brows, transfixed by your statement. “What do you–”

    “This one's on me”, you smiled playfully, handing him the cup. “Happy birthday, Jun~”

     Before he even had the chance to protest, his eyes fixed themselves on the cursive writing on the cup. Not only was his name written there, just like the usual, but a newfound information lay black against the plastic. A phone number.

      Jun's head shot up in your direction, eyes enlarged with miraculous bewilderment, as his whole body froze in a moment of pure epiphany. His – now dry – lips parted themselves as if dying to voice out his absolute marvel, but no sound managed to slide across his vocal chords in coherent formulations.

      None were needed though, as you simply shrugged, hand shifting into the shape of a universal “call me” gesture, leaving Jun frigid in his enthused state, suggested, especially, by the burning crimson that coloured his cheeks in the most delicate, yet alluring way.