#but not egg-like per se

[thebiggestfuckgiven]

i was peacefully working a closing shift when i was struck by a horrible yet wonderful and supremely indulgent idea:

Danny Phantom x Voltron crossover

[gayspock]

for the reverse unpopular opinion meme: what do you like abt bsg

its actually surprisingly soooo hard for me to find one thing i like abt bsg, or think of one single episode tht i like for bsg, not hard to think of a fave character though im a sharon fan to the grave. and i KNOW this is meant tobe posi- but its genuinely hard, bc i feel like...

the thing is, i dont think theres any single "element" of bsg that's unanimously GOOD. stay with me... i think like- theres some insanelygood characters. for all my clowning on gaius, i do think hes like- incredibly well done, incredibly well acted, and incredibly well written. his self-entitlement is so- so fucking realistic. it aches to watch him bc its verging on fucking ridiculous but no, no i KNOW guys would do that and most especially guys like him whove convinced themselves theyre special... and its like- good for the show for striking that balance, bc they do temper it so FUCKING WELL with him being laughably pathetic, but not holding back the punches with the heinous shit he does. i feel like lesser shows would either villify him completely or make him some sort of tragic figure- but no, hes just well done.

but ironically theres also so many OTHER characters ive found lacking like... tom zarek is the obvious one that comes to mind where hes the polar opposite of like "god i think this character could be done so well if you just- got it down better!!!" and THE SAME HAPPENS ELSEWHERE. i think they can do insane political drama- so fucking good- the pegasus arc in s2, for example, and tbh anything within the actual military side is really well done. BUT then there's so many shortcomings elsewhere within the show- like within the civilian side, ive found a lot of THOSE political-adjacent plots severely lacklustre AND LIKE-

MY POINT IS I KNOW IM BEING #POSITIVE HERE I SERIOUSLY LIKE THISSHOW OMG its like... i just think its like got so much solid, well done work running all the way through it that no matter how much OTHER stuff is a bit undercooked there's always something so good too offer. i havent ereally experienced a major lull in the show. the pacing is always fucking brilliant imo and its like my attention is always held and im always wanting to see what happens. so even when there is shit like, i.e right ow theres the love square bs that i dont care about, theres so much other good well done shit going on that im actuallyyyy crazzyyy forrrrrrrrrrrr i dont even CARE

[orangerosebush]

I've been using this recipe for Algerian sauce (when I don't buy it at the store, as one of the nice things about the market near me is that they carry it) with my breakfast sandwiches, and mutuals I want to make this for u so badly:

[mulletfriend]

how do fellow people with wavy hair make it look not like a bad perm.........

[maydaymadier]

Sometimes I'm just sitting here thinking abt the history/geopolitics of my campaign setting.

[arimarushunya]

tomorrow I will be free

[mybrainproblems]

assume that even if i'm not talking about it publicly, i am always on my dabbnatural / dabb apologia bullshit

[girl-named-matty]

Sharing a bed with the Boys (Hogwarts Legacy Headcanons)

Sharing a bed with the boys. Tags: Fluff, Sharing a bed, gn!reader, Sebastian x Reader, Ominis x Reader, Garreth x Reader, Leander x Reader. (this is barely proofread haha) Rating: General Audiences

Summary: My Headcanons for sharing a bed with the boys!

Sebastian:

When you first asked him if he wanted to share a bed, he practically jumped straight in it. He was so excited. 

But that was just the first time. 

He stays up reading almost every night so good luck getting him into that bed in the first place after that. 

And by late I mean genuinely unholy hours of the night kinda staying up and he wonders why he looks so tired. 

If you do eventually get him in bed, it doesn’t take him long to actually fall asleep. Aside from the constant lack of sleep he usually gets, he’s always been one to fall asleep quickly. 

He is a human body heater. 

Some nights you may not even need a blanket because he’s just that warm. 

I feel like Seb would be the kind of guy to practically sleep on top of you. Like not enough to crush you but instead it feels like a really nice weighted (and warm) blanket. 

Except for this blanket snores. 

Loud 

I’m sorry I don’t make the rules. 

Sometimes it's really annoying to share a bed with him and other times it's really nice. 

If he ever comes to bed early, it’s how you know he’s had a rough day and just needs to be in your arms for comfort. ..

Ominis:

Unlike Sebastian who would totally be up to sharing a bed, he would be more hesitant. 

It’s not like he doesn’t want to, per se, but he’s used to having his own space and he’s not necessarily the most touchy person. But eventually, he says he’s ready. 

Kinda awkward the first few nights. He slept with his back towards you and didn't make any physical touch at all. 

But after a couple of nights, he slowly starts making the shift to get closer to you and he comes to enjoy it. 

After that, he finds it hard to sleep without you. 

Due to not having the best childhood, he often has nightmares. And for him his nightmares are extremely unnerving due to the fact that he can’t see anything, only hear things. 

But one of the best parts about sharing a bed with you is the fact that whenever his nightmares wake him up, you’re right there next to him. 

He often finds himself reaching out for you in the middle of the night, just to make sure you’re still there. 

 He’s definitely a side sleeper so sometimes you’ll sleep in the spooning position together. This also reassures him a lot that you’re still next to him. ..

Garreth: 

Didn’t take long for you two to start sharing a bed at all. 

Since he has so many siblings he probably had to share a bed with one of his brothers at some point in his childhood anyway. 

But just because he might be used to it does not mean he’s easy to share a bed with. 

This boy is a BED HOGGER. 

If you are quite literally not right up against him, you’re falling off the bed. 

You thought Seb gets hot when he sleeps? 

Well, Garreth has him beat by a LONG shot. 

You could probably fry an egg on this man's back just saying. 

But we all know Garreth has that soft tummy action going on so he’s super comfortable and when he’s not hogging the bed, it’s really nice to cuddle up to him. 

When you too are cuddling, he wants to be as close to you as possible. 

So, really, just the sweetest boy to ever exist. ..

Leander: (because he deserves his place on this list) 

He’s similar to Ominis and opposite of Garreth. 

Had very few siblings growing up, probably only one or two so he was used to having his own space. So it took him a while before he was all good with it. 

This boy is lanky af. 

It’s obviously okay. He’s tall, long, lanky, whatever you wanna call it. 

So he probably sleeps with his legs up somehow to keep his feet from hanging off the bed/smacking into the headboard. 

It probably took him a while to get used to cuddling with someone in bed but now that he’s used to it, he loves it. 

He loves it when you sleep on his chest so he can wrap his arms around you and hold you close. 

He’s definitely not a morning person so have fun getting him out of that bed.

Also has really bad bed-head. How do I know this? No man would style his hair the way he does unless he has bed-head so take my word for it. 

100% a cuddler now. ...

Who should I do next? I was thinking Andrew and Amit but lmk in the comments!

[obsessedwithceleste]

The Stages of Grief

Lorenzo Berkshire x Reader

Prompt 5 of @thatdammchickennugget ‘s Hogmarch challenge🫶🏽

Summary: They say that when you experience grief, you go through five stages. And after being partnered with Lorenzo Berkshire for your latest potions assignment, rest be assured, you were experiencing all five.

word count: 6.2k

©️ obsessedwithceleste. all works posted here belong to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.

Denial

“Oh you’re kidding,” you groan as you finally spot your name on the list of assigned pairings for your next potions assignment.

You loved potions; in fact it was one of your favorite classes at Hogwarts, despite its demanding course work. You ironically found its rigid, methodical nature to be quite relaxing as moving step by step through the different recipes seemed to practically be second nature. It was a rhythmic dance that you followed religiously, finding thrill in the ever changing contents of your cauldron.

What you did not love however, or who you did not love to be more precise, was Lorenzo Berkshire. Flirtatious, carefree, and devilishly handsome, you were fairly certain that that boy could chat up a corpse. Or he could if he or his friends ever bothered showing up to class. It’s not that you disliked the boy per se, but to allow him onto your sacred ground? Into your sanctuary? You’d rather not.

Yet, there his name was, scrawled neatly next to yours on the board. It was like the universe had it out for you. Or your professor more likely.

“Tell me I read it wrong,” you complain turning to Daphne who was sat beside you.

The two of you had made an unlikely pairing in second year herbology and been inseparable ever since.

The girl just rolls her eyes at you.

“Oh come on, he’s really not as bad as you make him out be,” she sighs, scribbling notes from the board onto her parchment.

“Maybe not to you, but you’ve known him your whole life,” you grumble.

Personally, you’d always found the boy to be a bit of a prick. He was a pretty boy and he knew it, giving him a rather inflated ego you thought.

“Yeah, so don’t you think I might know him a bit better and perhaps be a better judge of character?” She asks.

“Maybe the professor will let me work alone.”

“Oh honestly, y/n. Look, at least he’s in class today. You’ll be fine, promise. And if he annoys you, even a little, I’ll owl his mother,” Daphne replies, not even bothering to look up from her notes. She was used to your dramatics by now.

“Alright, alright, everyone settle down,” your professor calls out, moving to stand at the front of the room before you can complain any further. “This next assignment will take course over the span of the next month or so, as you will be expected to collect some of your ingredients outside of class. So. Who can tell me a little bit about what this next potion that we’re brewing is?”

Your hand shoots into the air as soon as the question leaves your professor’s lips.

“Amortentia is the most powerful love potion in existence. It doesn’t really create love though, but rather infatuation which makes it one of the most dangerous potions in the world,” you recite.

“Yes, yes! Very good, y/n! Five points!”

“Really if it’s so dangerous, I don’t see why they’re teaching a bunch of sixth years how to brew it,” Daphne mumbles to you under her breath.

You let out a snicker. She had a point.

You turn back to the front of the classroom, tuning back into the lesson as your professor begins scratching away on the chalkboard once more.

“The ingredients that you’ll need to gather are as follows. Two ashwinder eggs, rose thorns, peppermint, powdered moonstone, pearl dust, and rose petals. You’ll have the next two weeks to gather your ingredients with your partners, so I suggest you begin,” your professor announces.

You feel your shoulders wilt at the thought of purposely seeking out Lorenzo, but you can already feel his eyes on you from across the room.

“Do you think if I ignore him long enough he’ll get the idea and just go away?” You whisper to your friend.

Daphne just rolls her eyes at you once more, shaking her head.

“Go,” she sighs, giving you a light shove in his direction before moving to join Theodore Nott at a different station.

With one last sigh of despair, you make your way over to the station where Enzo sits waiting for you, silently mourning your potions grade. And your mental and emotional stability.

“Mornin’ love,” he greets giving you a bright lopsided grin as you approach.

“Hi,” you respond dryly with a tight lipped smile.

“So, what’s our game plan going to be, darlin? I reckon we’ll want to get the hardest ingredients to come by first yeah?” He pushes on, ignoring your clear disinterest.

You nod your head in response.

“The peppermint, rose petals and thorns will be easy. We can get all of those in the greenhouse. The pearl dust- I assume we’ll need fresh pearls, we can probably get from the Black Lake.”

“Great. I think I have a moonstone in my ingredient collection. We can crush it down for the powdered moonstone,” Enzo offers.

You raise your brows at this. Moonstone wasn’t necessarily rare by any means, but you weren’t really expecting Enzo to offer up ingredients from his personal collection.

“That would work. We can also find them in the dark forest,” you reply.

“Nah, save us the hassle. Pretty girl like you doesn’t have any business in that musty old forest anyway,” he responds with a charming grin.

Ignoring his comment, you continue on to the last item on the list.

“I’m really not sure where we’re going to find those eggs. I don’t think we can find ashwinders on the school grounds, and they’re quite risky to breed.”

Enzo stares at you blankly.

“Remind me what an ashwinder is again love?” He says sheepishly.

“Magic serpent. Born from the embers of magic flames that are left to burn. You’re a Slytherin, shouldn’t you know all about snakes and such?”

“Yeah, let me recite to you the alphabetical list of all known magical serpent species that us Slytherins actually use as the password to our common room.”

You purse your lips at the boy’s obvious sarcasm.

“Fair enough. Still don’t know how we’ll get the eggs though.”

“I can see if we have any in our stores at the manor. Probably our best bet if we don’t want to risk burning down the school.” Enzo replies.

“Are you sure? We’re already using your moonstone,” you say, beginning to feel a bit bad about raiding the boy for supplies.

“It’s the least I can do really. I’m useless at potions, so least I can do is provide you with the ingredients that we need,” he says honestly with a light laugh.

“Well alright. Shall we meet up on Friday then to collect the pearls?” You ask, scribbling down your plans in your notebook.

“Sounds good, six o’clock? By the dock?”

You nod in agreement.

“Well alright then. See you then, love.” And with a grin and a cheeky wink thrown your way, Enzo is off.

At least he was pulling his weight in gathering ingredients you supposed.

Anger

“Y/n! Are you headed down to the docs?” Daphne asks slightly out of breath as she runs up to you from across the court yard.

“Yeah. Enzo tell you?”

Daphne nods her head in response as you two begin to make the short trek down to the lake.

“Hope you don’t mind if Theo and I join you?”

“Course not. Probably better that I’m not alone with Enzo by the lake anyway. Wouldn’t want him to try and drown me.” You say lightly, only slightly joking.

“Oh piss off. He’s a nice bloke once you get to know him.” Daphne laughs.

As the two of you arrive at the edge of the lake, you can already see Enzo, Theodore, and Mattheo splashing about in the water. Draco and Pansy are watching disdainfully from the shore.

You hadn’t realized this was going to be a whole party.

“Daph, please get these boys under control!” Pansy shouts when she sees the two of you approaching.

“I’m not their mum, they won’t listen to me,” Daphne replies dryly.

“Sure they will. Or at least Theo will, and the other two dimwits will follow whatever he does.” Pansy replies.

“Theodore!” Daphne shouts, turning to the three boys who were waist deep in the water by this point.

“Bella?” He calls back, visibly perking up at the sight of your friend.

You watch with amusement as Daphne points a finger at the boy and then again at the ground next to her. Theo slowly sulks over to the four of you, Mattheo and Enzo following in his wake.

“Really Theodore? You’re sopping wet,” Daphne sighs, only to be met with a sheepish grin.

“Hey love,” Enzo greets, prancing over to stand beside you.

It takes everything in you to focus anywhere but Enzo’s soaking wet shirt as it clung to his chest and abdomen like a second, very see-through skin. Bloody hell.

“Hi Enzo,” you say through gritted teeth.

“Are you sure we’ll even find pearls here? I thought pearls were from the ocean, and I don’t want to risk getting wet for nothing,” Draco says, eyeing the lake warily.

“Hogwarts a History says that fresh water pearls are common in the Black Lake,” you reply.

“What’s the difference?”

“Saltwater pearls are generally rarer, more expensive.” Pansy replies easily.

“Fresh water mussels can produce multiple pearls at a time, but oysters generally only produce a single pearl in their entire lifetime,” you explain.

“So how exactly are we going to collect these mussels?” Theo asks.

“Accio.” Daphne responds, as if it should’ve been obvious. Which it was.

Your now rather large group makes it way onto the dock, squinting into the murky water for any trace of mussels in the sand below.

Daphne finds the first one, and after that, they slowly start pouring in. Eventually, there’s a sort of system in place with you, Daphne, Pansy, and Draco scanning the dark waves for the elusive mussels, while Theo, Mattheo, and Enzo crack them open to retrieve the pearls.

It’s all going swimmingly until the boys begin to get rowdy once more, with Mattheo sending a small wave of water at Enzo when his back is turned. Daphne gives the boys several warning glares as the waves gradually grow larger, only for them to start up again the moment your backs are turned.

Eventually it turns into an all out water war between the three of them once more, and you scowl as you feel a splash of water hit your leg.

Could they not cause a ruckus for one afternoon? You thought bitterly as another mussel flew into your hand. You go to place it in the pile with the others when you feel a weight hit you like a ton of bricks. Then cold. Everything is cold as you feel yourself hit the water.

“What the fuck!” You exclaim once your head breaks the surface and you frantically wipe water from your eyes.

You look over to see Lorenzo in the water near you, a grin plastered across his face. His smile quickly fades however when he sees the pure murderous intent in your eyes.

“What is wrong with you?” You shout, swimming over to him, and shoving him under the waves.

“Y/n! You can’t drown him!” Daphne yells from the dock.

“Watch me!”

“It was an accident, swear!” Enzo gasps when his head re-emerges once more.

With one last scream of rage, you make your way to land as Daphne runs to catch up with you.

“Seriously Daphne? What is wrong with him?” You rage as you storm up the hill back to the castle.

“I really don’t think he meant for you to get shoved into the lake. The boys can get pretty tunnel visioned,” Daphne offers as she follows behind.

“That’s easy for you to say, you’re not the one who went for a swim,” you mutter between chattering teeth, the cold really beginning to sink in.

“Oh I’m not defending him. Not completely I mean. He was totally acting like a right git. The other boys too. I don’t blame you for being upset, I would be too. I’m just saying, maybe don’t be too hard on him? It was an accident after all, and he really did look sorry.”

When you only shrug in response, Daphne sighs.

“Look. Give him one last chance, and if you still think he’s the worst person on earth, at least exploit the fact that he really does feel bad, and milk it for all he’s worth. Okay?”

You let out a smile at this.

“Spoken like a true Slytherin, Daph.”

Bargaining

The following Monday when you take your seat next to Lorenzo in potions, he immediately turns his head, almost like he’s surprised you hadn’t demanded to be reassigned partners.

“I’m so sorry, y/n. I really didn’t mean for you to end up in the lake, Theo just shoved me and I grabbed on the closest thing which happened to be you. I really am sorry,” he rambles, fiddling with the quill in his hand nervously.

“It’s okay. I know it was an accident, so let’s just move on, alright?” You say with a sigh.

Maybe if the both of you just moved on, this nightmare of a pairing would be over sooner.

“Really?” Lorenzo asks, his bright personality snapping back into place.

“Sure Enzo.”

“Excellent. Because I was able to get us these,” he says proudly, carefully pulling two little eggs and a medium sized moonstone out of his bag. “Oh, and the pearls.” He adds, placing the eggs, stone, and glass container filled with pearls on the table in front of you.

You eye the ingredients carefully before determining that they were in fact all up to standard.

“Perfect. I’ll begin crushing up the pearls, if you take care of the moonstone?” You say, already pouring the shiny orbs into your mortar and pestle.

The two of you work surprisingly well together for the rest of the class period, almost as if you’d been working together for years. It takes you by surprise how easy the brown haired boy is to work with. You hadn’t been expecting much, knowing that potions wasn’t Enzo’s strong suit. But he made up for it by making sure you never wanted for anything. Needed a vial for your pearl dust? It was in your hands before you even had to ask. A fire needed to be lit beneath the ashwinder eggs to keep them from spoiling? Enzo’s wand was pointed in their direction before you had the chance to open your mouth.

As class winds down and you go to make your exit, you feel a hand on your wrist.

“Y/n?” Enzo says, stopping you. You turn to look at the boy.

“Look uh, I know that you’re not my biggest fan, or at least that’s what I gathered from Daph,” he begins to ramble, scratching the back of his neck, “but, could we maybe like, just start over?”

You’re a bit skeptical at first, but seeing his nervous smile melts something in you. Being friendly couldn’t hurt, you reasoned. And it would certainly make working with the boy easier.

“Alright, Enzo, we can start over.”

“Wicked.” He says with a grin. “Don’t suppose you’d like to meet in the greenhouse later then to gather the rest of our ingredients? Promise I won’t drag Theo and Matt along this time.”

“Sounds lovely.”

The both of you agree to meet right after classes are released that day, and as you make your way down the cobblestone path to the greenhouse, you can’t seem to push the memories of wet hair and an infectious smile from your thoughts.

“Hi love!” Enzo calls out as soon as you push open the doors of the greenhouse. The boy is elbows deep in soil, pulling at the roots of a suspiciously pink colored plant.

“How’d you get here so fast?” you ask, glancing at the clock to see that classes had ended not even ten minutes ago.

“Herbology is my last class of the day,” he explains, brushing some of the dirt off his gloves.

“Ah. So you wanted to meet right after classes ended so you wouldn’t have to make the trek back out here?” You ask, fingertips brushing the soft petals of one of the many flowering plants growing within the greenhouse.

“Well, and I wanted to see you again sooner,” he replies with a shrug and a cheeky grin.

You roll you eyes as you feel your cheeks heat up, turning quickly and hoping he hadn’t seen.

“So where are the rose bushes?” You ask, looking around at the distinct lack of roses within the building.

Enzo gives a nervous chuckle. “About that. Apparently Professor Sprout didn’t think that the common rose was, ah, dangerous enough, for her plant collection,” Enzo says, gesturing towards the various plants, “so, uh, there are none. But! We can grow them pretty easily. It might take a week or two to grow a full bush to peak maturity, but it should be fine.”

You let out a sigh. Of course Hogwarts wouldn’t grow something as simple and common as a rose.

“Alright, well. Let’s begin I suppose.”

Enzo immediately perks up as he goes to fetch a large pot and a bag of soil and you begin to rifle through the cabinets to find rose seeds. After several minutes with no success, you feel a warm presence behind you as Enzo leans over your shoulder and plucks a packet off the top shelf.

“You certainly know your way around,” you murmur, looking up to find the boy’s face much closer than anticipated. You feel heat rise to your cheeks once more and you duck under is elbow, making your escape.

“Herbology is my best subject,” Enzo says, trailing behind you.

“Ah, so you’re the Slytherin version of Neville Longbottom then eh?” You say with a grin as you watch him fill the pot with soil.

Enzo grimaces, making a face.

“No, I’m much better looking,” he says with a smirk.

Bloody self-aware bastard.

It only takes a few minutes for Enzo to bury the seeds in the soil and place several incantations over the dirt before he looks up at you with a triumphant grin.

“All good to go,” he says happily. “Though we should probably check back in daily to refresh the enchantments and such.”

You nod your head at the boy.

Over the course of the next few days, Enzo uses your time spent together to pick your brain for any morsel of information he could get out of you. He really was determined to be your friend apparently.

“What’s your favorite plant?” He asks you on the third day of your little meetings.

You tilt your head a bit in consideration.

“No, no, wait, I bet I can guess. Is it peonies? Your perfume is peony scented right?” He asks.

“Yeah, it is. Peony and vanilla,” you say, eyeing the boy suspiciously.

“Knew it,” he says, looking rather self satisfied.

“And yours?” You ask, leaning against the table to look up at him.

“Hmm?”

“What’s your favorite flower? Or plant that is.”

Enzo pauses for a moment, eyes flickering around the greenhouse for a moment before landing on you.

“I like roses.”

“Really?” You say, scrunching your nose a bit.

“I’m a romantic, what can I say?”

“Gross. That’s so cliche.” You tease, a small smile gracing your face.

As the days go on, your time spent in the greenhouse becomes longer and longer as you and Lorenzo banter about the ridiculous questions he’d come up with. Did owls have knees? Which house would win in hand to hand combat? Were Theodore and Daphne secretly hooking up in the fifth floor prefect’s bathroom? (The answer was yes.)

You were shocked to find that, while still a bit of a prat, Enzo really was rather smart and witty. As the days went on, it became easier and easier to open up to the boy until the two of you were talking like old friends.

It happened slowly. You really didn’t even notice at first. But by the second week, you found yourself looking forward to your daily meetings, and found yourself thinking of the handsome brunette when he wasn’t around, and you caught yourself staring at the boy a bit too long after he’d already looked away.

Over the years of being friends with Daph, you’d often been forced into the proximity of the boy. Always noting the way he’d easily move from one witch to the next, his charm never seeming to fail him. You had been so determined to make sure that you would never be one of those witches. Just another tally on Lorenzo’s ever growing list of conquests.

But it had happened. The unimaginable. The impossible. You were falling for Lorenzo Berkshire. No, this simply wouldn’t do you thought to yourself as you made the familiar trek to the greenhouse.

Your mind raced as you thought of ways to stop this madness. Maybe if you went back to pushing the boy away. Or if you just ignored him. Yes. If you just shut him out, these feelings would go away.

Sarcasm

The next several days for Lorenzo were miserable. And that was putting it nicely.

“She hates me!” Enzo wailed dramatically, hanging upside down off the edge of his bed.

It had been three days since your terrifying revelation in the green house, and Enzo was very convinced that he was going insane.

He could still remember clearly the day that Daphne had introduced him to her new friend after one fateful day in herbology. You had been so wicked smart, and kind, and funny, and your smile had melted his heart. He was pretty sure he’d been in love with you ever since. But he was lucky if you even acknowledged his presence most days.

“Can you blame her? Didn’t you send a flock of peacocks after her when we were all visiting Draco’s last year?” Mattheo asks, squinting at his friend.

“I thought it’d be romantic! How was I supposed to know they weren’t friendly?”

“There’s also that time in third year, you knocked her off her broom playing quidditch.” Draco adds, scowling at the memory of Enzo harassing the birds on his family’s property.

“I caught her after!” Enzo protests.

“She still sprained her wrist.”

“Oh yea. And then you tried to give her a kiss as an apology, but ended up with a nice bruise on your jaw instead,” Mattheo laughs.

Lorenzo wasn't going to lie, that was a particular sore spot for him.

“And let’s of course not forget the most recent offense. Trying to drown her in the lake. Thank Salazar I wasn’t there for that scene.” Blaise mutters.

Enzo winces.

After the incident at the lake, Enzo was sure he was done for. The look of pure rage in your eyes had felt as though you had stomped on his heart, and then cruciod it for good measure. But then you had accepted his apology and even agreed to start things over. Enzo had felt the first real burst of hope after four pitiful years of pining.

Sure he’d made some missteps over the years. As his friends so graciously enjoyed reminding him, but he meant well!

The two of you had talked. Laughed. He’d even allowed his hand to brush up against yours a time or two, delighted when you didn’t flinch away.

And then, as if the switch had flipped, it was back how it had been before. Enzo felt like he had whiplash with the way you had turned right back around to treating him like a total stranger.

Theo eyed his roommate with concern.

“Bloody hell, he’s worse than you pining over Daphne,” Mattheo mutters, jabbing an elbow into Theo’s rib cage, earning him a sharp glare.

“I don’t understand! Things were going so well! She was actually talking to me and everything, and now it’s like I’m right back at square one,” Enzo sighs, ignoring his bickering roommates.

“I don’t know what you’re expecting from us mate. You’re supposed to be the romantic one of the group. Though with your track record, I’m not sure why we’ve been taking your advice all these years. You’re a wreck.” Blaise says, matter of factly.

“You tried talking to Daph bout it?” Theo asks, not quite sure how to help his slightly delirious friend.

“Ask me about what?” Daphne asks, seemingly materializing in the doorway of the boys’ shared dormitory.

She makes her way into the room, face morphing into one of both concern and disgust as she takes in Enzo's distraught state.

Theo eyes his friend, as if to say “good luck mate.”

Dragging himself into an upright position, Enzo considers the girl in front of him. How had he not thought of it before? Y/n’s best friend had been at his disposal this entire time, and he’d never thought to simply ask her.

Lorenzo turns to look at Daphne.

“Daph?”

“Yes Enz?”

“Does y/n fancy anyone?” He asks, trying to sound as casual and nonchalant as possible.

Daphne raises a brow.

“If you’re trying to subtly ask if I happened to know of her feelings towards you, you’re doing a lousy job."

Enzo pouts, sticking out his bottom lip and honestly looking quite pathetic.

"For Salazar's sake, what happened?" Daphne huffs, making herself comfortable on Theo's bed, much to his delight.

“Enzo is down bad. Obviously.” Mattheo states.

Daphne shoots the boy a glare, rolling her eyes at the curly haired boy.

"We've been working in the green house together, and I thought things were going so well. She was talking to me, and laughing and everything.” Enzo says, falling back into his bed dramatically.

“Well then what’s the problem? You like her I thought.” Daphne replies with an annoyed huff.

“That’s just it isn’t it? It wasn’t a problem. But then suddenly, a few days ago, she went completely cold again. Like the last couple weeks never happened." he laments.

Daphne opens her mouth. Then closes it, shutting her eyes and taking a deep breath. For the love of- she loved you. Truly she did. But you were going to be the end of her.

“I’ll take care of this.” She announces, promptly rising from the bed just as Theo was about to sneak an arm around her.

He glowers at Enzo who gives him an apologetic grin.

Daphne had been your best friend for years at this point, and most of the time, she was convinced that she knew you better than you knew yourself. She wasn't blind. Or dumb for that matter. She knew that there were some strong feelings between you and Enzo, though she had never really bothered to figure out if they were positive or negative. Clearly she should've and all of this could have been avoided she thought wistfully to herself. At least this explained the strange tension between the two of you as of late.

“Y/n.” Daphne huffs, sitting next to you on a bench in the court yard.

“Daph,” you greet, looking up from your book.

“So, when were you going to tell me that you fancy Lorenzo?” She asks, staring you dead in the eye.

You feel your mouth gape like a fish out of water.

“Right Daph. Like I’d ever fancy that peacock.” You reply, doing your best to appear disdainful.

“Don’t you get an attitude with me.” Daphne responds. She’d always been able to see right through you. “Enzo told me everything. The chatting. The giggling. The immediate turn around as if nothing had happened. Textbook case of realizing you like someone while being emotionally constipated!” Daphne announces.

“Shhh!” You hush your friend, glancing around to make sure no one had noticed the scene. “You know that being mean and sarcastic is my only defense mechanism!” You hiss.

“Oh honestly y/n. We both know you won't be able to use that excuse forever.” Daphne says with a dramatic eye roll. “Besides, he likes you too. Why do you think he’s always preening when you’re around. He’s trying to impress you, you dolt.”

“Fantastic. He’s only a prat when I’m around. How romantic,” you mutter.

“Well you certainly didn’t think he was being a prat when you were spending all that time in the green house together. Don’t think I didn’t notice you two disappearing for several hours. No one is spending that much time every day looking at flowers.”

“We were just talking,” you defend.

“Mmhm. And then you stopped talking because you got scared and now Enzo is a wreck.”

You feel a pang of guilt. You hadn’t meant to hurt Enzo. You hadn’t thought that he actually might like you too.

“I’ll apologize tomorrow in class, I guess,” you mutter.

Daphne sighs.

“Look. I’m not saying that you have to date him, or even tell him you like him. But you’re both my friends, and I don’t like seeing either of you upset.”

“I know Daph. I’m just confused is all. I thought I hated him.”

“Well, I’ve always been told that the line between love and hate is fine.” Daphne replies.

Bloody hell, when had your friend become this philosophic?

“I’ll get it sorted tomorrow. Promise.” You tell her.

Daphne nods, giving you a comforting smile.

“Good. And word of advice. Drop the sarcasm, Enz might cry if you put him through anymore emotional whiplash.”

Acceptance

You sat nervously in the potions classroom having arrived close to fifteen minutes early as you couldn’t shake away your nerves. Glancing at the clock on the wall, your classmates should start filing in at any moment.

You’d finally managed to gather all the need ingredients for your potion, so today would be the day that you and Enzo would be able to brew your amortentia.

Your fingers twirled the stems of the roses you’d collected mindlessly as your thoughts buzzed between your conversation yesterday with Daphne, and the fluffy haired brunette boy that had taken up permanent residency in your every thought.

Remembering the silly game one of your roommates had played years ago, you began plucking the rose petals off of the stem, one by one. You were going to have to do it eventually anyway. He loves me, he loves me not, the phrase repeats in your mind.

“Look nervous,” A voice comments from behind you.

Startled out of your thoughts, you look up just in time to see Enzo take his seat beside you.

Clearing your throat, you give the boy a small smile.

“Just thinking about the potion. Not going to be an easy one to brew today, and I’d like to get a good mark,” you reply.

“Of course.” Enzo replies, a strained look on his face. “Wouldn’t want to waste any more of your time then.”

You open your mouth to reply, but close it again when no words come to mind. Instead, you opt to sweep your rose petals into a small pile and begin shaving off the rose thorns as Enzo wordlessly takes out the gold cauldron, lighting a fire beneath.

“So,” you say awkwardly, the deafening silence finally getting to you. “How bout that weather?”

You hear a clatter as Enzo drops pestle he was holding to look at you incredulously.

“I know some of my conversation attempts were bad, but that was downright criminal.” He says with a snort.

Unable to hold back your laughter, you let out a giggle. “Yeah, I’ll see myself to Azkaban for that one.”

And just like that, the two of you fall back into your comfortable rhythm of idle chatter, jokes, bickering as you work seamlessly together.

You can’t help but watch with silent admiration as Enzo dutifully stirs the cauldron, careful to keep even counter clockwise strokes. A few tendrils of soft brown hair fall in front of the boy’s face and he gently blows them to the side with an annoyed puff.

“Pearl dust?” He asks, reaching his hand out.

As you hand him the vial, your fingertips brush softly, and you feel heat rush to your cheeks. The heat from the cauldron must be really getting to you.

“If you just want to add the powdered moonstone, we should be all done,” Enzo says after a moment, taking a step back to allow you to complete the final step.

Slowly, you approach the boiling cauldron, carefully sprinkling in your meticulously measured moonstone powder. You stir the concoction a bit longer until you see a familiar pearlescent sheen and swirling tendrils of steam.

“Think we’ve done it,” you say with a smile, looking over at your partner.

He grins back, joining you in leaning over the steaming cauldron.

“Well? What do you smell?” He asks cheekily.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“We both take a wiff? On three?” Enzo asks.

You nod in agreement, watching the swirling colors within the cauldron. They say that amortentia smells like the things you’re most attracted to, and you’d always been curious what scents the potion would elicit for you.

“One, two, three.”

You lean in, and immediately you’re hit with the earthy scent of fresh soil, a soft hint of rose, and something else- oh. Oh. You feel your eyes widen.

“Peony. And vanilla.” Enzo murmurs, head still hovering above the cauldron before he turns to look at you.

The moment your eyes meet, you both know.

“I need a moment,” you mumble, hurrying out of the classroom.

As you rush past Daphne’s table, you hear the girl run after you into the corridor.

“What happened? Are you alright?” Daphne asks as the two of you come to a stop in a small alcove that’s somewhat hidden behind one of the many large stone statues that decorate the halls.

“It’s Lorenzo. My potion- it smells like Lorenzo. Or, it smells like fresh soil, and roses, and that stupid expensive cologne that he always wears,” you gasp, out of breath.

“Oh? And what did he smell?”

“Me. My perfume. Peonies and vanilla.”

“Well, that’s good then isn’t it? That you both smelled each other? I know when we talked yesterday I said you don’t necessarily have to tell the boy you fancy him, but, if you both really like each other that much. What’s the harm?” Daphne tries to reason.

“I don’t know! I just didn’t realize I liked him that much and it freaked me out. And I’ve been icing him out these past couple days, so he’s probably so cross with me. But he’s been so nice today, I don’t know what to do Daph. I’m not good with feelings. I was never going to act on anything!”

“Is that why you did all that? Back there?” A voice asks. “And why you’ve been acting strange the past several days?”

The two of you whip around to see Enzo staring wide eyed at the both of you, mouth slightly agape.

“I think I’d best let the two of you sort this out,” Daphne says, slipping out of the alcove and back into the classroom.

“I’m sorry, you weren’t meant to hear any of that,” you start as Enzo wordlessly approaches.

“You like me?” He asks once he’s close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating off of him. He looks genuinely surprised at the notion as he stares down at you intensely.

You nod slowly. “Smelled you in that bloody potion,” you mumble.

Enzo’s smile falls.

“Is it that bad? Liking me?” He asks, hurt written across his face.

“No! No it’s not! I just thought I didn’t like you- no, that’s not what I meant. I was surprised that I fancied you is all, and didn’t know what to do. Because we’ve know each other so long, and we haven’t necessarily always gotten along. And I didn’t really realize I liked you at first, and I got all freaked out and then I panicked, and-“

“Y/n, can I kiss you?” Enzo asks, interrupting your rambling.

You freeze, looking up at the boy in front of you.

“Yes please,” you murmur.

Without wasting another moment, Enzo’s lips meet yours with a hunger and passion you didn’t realize the boy had in him.

Any last trace of doubt or worry you had disappears as his soft lips move against yours, melting you into him like putty in his hands.

Right as you’re about to run out of air, you feel Enzo’s lips trail off to your cheek, placing gentle kisses as he trails down to your jaw, and then your neck.

“Enz,” you mumble softly as you feel the warm, sucking sensation against your skin in the crook of your neck.

“Shh,” he whispers, lips meeting yours once more.

You feel yourself getting lost in the sensation as he moves against you until Daphne’s voice brings you back to reality once more.

“Just so you’re both aware, we are still in class,” she calls from around the corner.

You feel your cheeks heat up as Enzo lets out a soft laugh above you.

“Rest assured love, we will be coming back to this later,” he says before placing a kiss on your forehead and leading you back into the classroom.

If there’s one thing about me, it’s that I’ll take any excuse to write a cheesy amortentia fic🤪

Special thanks to @finalgirllx and @pizzaapeteer for editing and rvwing🫶🏽

[upsidedownwithsteve]

emmy!!!!

i’m really thinking a lot about simp boyfriend!steve 😩 they haven’t even really made it official but it’s their first time together and he almost doesn’t know what to do. reader is a like ??? we know that he’s pretty experienced in the bedroom but with reader? UGGGGHHHHFHFFHF

just fluffy mushy love making, easing his anxiety, HE JUST WANTS TO IMPRESS US OKAY?

18+

“You okay?”

Your voice sounded too loud in the quiet, the house empty and Steve’s room softened by the closed curtains, the pillows that had fallen to the floor, the candles he’d lit on his dresser for the occasion.

Steve stilled, pulling himself away from your neck to blink down at you, cheeks pink and eyes a little wide. He wondered if he looked as panicked as he felt. “What?”

You cleared your throat, suddenly nervous. “I asked if you’re okay,” you repeated, shifting a little against the sheets, skin pebbling when your bare chest brushed Steve’s. “You’re shaking,” you told him in a whisper.

And he was. Not for lack of trying to hide it. But Steve had been holding himself up over your naked frame for the past ten minutes, using his elbows to keep most of his weight off of you, kissing at the spot on your neck that usually had you keening. But the mood was a little off, something felt stilted, something felt strange.

Not wrong, per se, not really. But Steve was barely talking, eyes focused on what part of you he was going to kiss next, dotting his lips over your skin like a colour by numbers and god, his breath had been rattling in his chest ever since you slipped out of your underwear and lay underneath him in his bed.

Steve wasn’t a virgin, not by a mile. And neither were you. So why was he so off his game?

“I, uh— I’m just—” Steve swallowed roughly, sitting up between your spread legs to drag a hand through his hair. He tugged on the eggs, looking stricken, his eyes still full of heat as the raked down your body but he floundered, his hand laying politely on your knee instead of anywhere else you were wanting to be touched. “I’m sorry.”

You frowned, not unhappy but full of concern. You leant up onto your elbows, peering up at the boy with confusion. “You don’t wanna do this?” Aside from frequent make outs and some heavy petting, this was the furthest you’d gone with your new boyfriend, but all the signs had pointed towards ‘go’ when Steve had practically dragged you up to his room. “It’s okay if you don’t—”

“Nonono, god, no.” Steve ducked in a breath, his hand smoothing upwards, warm and wide across your thigh and he squeezed your skin in what he hoped was a reassuring touch. “I do, Christ, I really do.”

“But?” You asked softly, searchingly.

“I’m— I’m kinda nervous,” he laughed without much humour. His cheeks were rosier than ever and Steve licked his lips, wondering what you’d say. “I don’t wanna fuck this up. Not with you.”

It was impossible not to smile then and with some gentle coaxing, you pulled the boy back down to lie against you. Fully this time, as you hushed away his concerns of squishing you. You kissed him, soft and sweet and with your tongue just touching his before you pulled back again.

“You’re not going to fuck it up, I promise,” you assured him, nose nudging against his own. Steve hummed, waiting for another kiss. “I’m nervous too, y’know.”

“Yeah?” Steve opened his eyes, surprise clearly in them as he gazed down at you. His hand found your neck, holding you gently, thumb sweeping over the shell of your ear. “You are?”

“Of course,” you nodded, smiling still. “My boyfriend is like, super hot, I don’t wanna do something dumb and embarrass myself.”

Steve snorted, hiding his face in your neck at your compliment. He groaned, full of humour now, his lips against your throat in a way that was so different than before. He pressed himself into you, mouth parting to suck at your skin, humming when you sighed all pretty.

“You’re an idiot,” he told you without any meanness. In fact his voice was stupidly fond. Steve dragged his face back to yours, eyes crinkling as he smiled. “Can I kiss you?”

You nodded, lifting your chin for him. “You can do whatever you’d like to me,” you promised.

Steve moaned into your mouth at that, taking the words as dirty as you’d hoped he would. You felt his cock kick up in interest between your thighs, the length of it hardening now his nerves were slipping away.

“Yeah?” He whispered, his voice dropping lower, his forehead pushed to yours. He let one hand skim down your frame, fingers brushing over soft curves and hills of skin. Two fingers slipped between your folds and his breath hitched at the slick there, evidence of you much you wanted him. “Can I kiss you here, too?”

You nodded, breathless, eyes widening when Steve slipped down your body, taking the sheets with him. He braced his hands on your knees, thumbs stroking over you as he spread your legs so he could lay between them.

“You’ll tell me if I do something you don’t like?” He asked quietly, his eyes on yours. His gaze was intense, some nerves coming back to shine through the heat. “I really— god, I really want to make you feel good.”

“You will,” you promised him, already arching your back, eager to see his pretty face between your thighs. “Trust me, yeah? You’re gonna make me feel so good, Steve.”

And fuck, he did.

Twice.

[astrellium]

Painting random objects with shitty tempera paint is a fantastic stress reliever for me

The only problem is, I am rapidly running out of both objects and paint

[cvtyvvitch]

💗💐✨Pick-A-Card: What Is Next for You in Love?✨💐

💕 Pick an emoji (⚡️, 🌸, or 🌊) for a reading on what is coming next for you in love.

✨ Focus your intention and remain open — if none of the images light up for you, there may not be a message for you in this reading! Alternatively, more than one image might connect with you. As always, trust your intuition and take what resonates, leaving the rest.

⚡️⚡️⚡️

#1 ⚡️ Lightning ⚡️

In French, love at first sight is called ‘coup de foudre’ — a lightning strike. This picture makes my eyes water, and I get a few different impressions off it. First, someone sees you and is completely taken back. This could be someone you have met already and they felt this, but for some it’s happening soon. Someone who literally stops in their tracks and is dazed by you. It’s a frenetic energy, hard to pin down. A bit of the madness that comes with a really intense new crush.

The second option I get is that someone reenters your life very suddenly, a bit of a Tower experience. It feels that things were left unresolved between you, and it’s a situation/feelings that still keeps you up some nights. It’s a feeling like horses straining under a harness and energy built up to the point of explosion. Not a bad feeling per se, but definitely volatile and shocking.

Key words: fire, volcano, out of control, thunder, chewed straws, bitten nails, knock on the door, feet on pavement, midnight, nokia cell phone, unknown caller ID, broken glass, be not afraid, late night gas/petrol station, buzzing silence

PS If you have any feedback, please let me know! Also if you save this reading and notice it being accurate for you, I’d love to hear about it!

🌸🌸🌸

#2 🌸 Pink Flower 🌸

For this group, I get the image of someone picking flowers from the garden for their grandmother. Someone very sweet on the periphery of your life who you know or may get the opportunity to get to know soon. They feel like someone with a lot of responsibility with maybe their family or community, but always find the time for you. Sweet, somewhat shy or quiet energy. Feels like a neighbor, maybe, or a neighbor to someone in your family.

There’s hesitation here, maybe on both ends? I don’t feel major turmoil but just the uncertainty mixed with curiosity that comes with a new person who isn’t obviously mutually interested in you. Friendly without being over flirtatious. The type of person who gives you a bucket of lemons because they’ve had a bunch extra in their backyard.

Keywords: bicycle, farmer’s market, pharmacy, picket fence, down the hall, shy, hedge, grandmother, dahlias, peonies, tuna can, plum

PS If you have any feedback, please let me know! Also if you save this reading and notice it being accurate for you, I’d love to hear about it!

🌊🌊🌊

#3 🌊 Waves 🌊

This connection coming in has a feeling of longing. It feels like a period of missing someone or a time in your life that you know you can’t return to. Grief that feels a little bit difficult to place because it feels like wanting something that even if you got it, things wouldn’t feel the same because you have also changed.

I know that’s not a super happy sounding message, but this is a period where you are asked to deeply reflect on what you loved and feel you’ve lost. Allow yourself to move past the surface of yearning to the deeper questions: why did I have this experience? Where did I learn what I wanted, and what does not truly help me grow and feel safe? It may feel very confusing right now in the face of perceived loss. It’s a murky time you must allow yourself to experience and pass through, but take care not to become trapped by the siren’s song of nostalgia. There is more for you to experience on the other side of this lesson, and a version of yourself waiting to embrace new joy based on a profound understanding of these past disappointing experiences.

Keywords: sighs, mirror, fingers along water, long hair, loneliness, emptiness, nostalgia, despair. Salt, tears, egg yolk, relearning, color, passion, glorious comeback and rebirth

[priestvox]

Radioapple/Appleradio Secret Marriage au part 3:

(No one asked for this but I got a lot of time on my hands.)

When Alastor returned after 7 damn years, Vox could've sworn he'd mellowed out somehow – gotten soft around the edges in the years they hadn't fought like mortal enemies.

Well, not mortal enemies per se. More like the desperate attempt to gain the others attention which succeeded most of the time.

But anyways, Vox could practically smell the emotion on him and it didn't suit Alastor. It didn't suit his Alastor. Alastor was his enemy, the man who never hesitated to kill and humiliate others for entertainment. The man who had a reputation for being unpredictable and murderous.

He could see the way he'd look at the wannabe demon Charlie or the cowardly King of Hell who was shorter than two egg bois stacked on top each other. He saw the light in Alastor's eyes and it unsettled him. The way it somewhat resembled the look in Alastor's eyes before their falling out.

It was a certain softness which was obvious, especially when you're so used to seeing a cold expression with a manic smile. The expression he had looking at Lucifer was a soft grin, the emotion in his eyes which Vox couldn't quite put his finger on but he craved it. He craved to have Alastor looking at him in that exact way with the exact angle his eyes would curl at to the lack of teeth in the smile and even to the way his ears would twitch subtly when Lucifer looked back.

And it enraged Vox to see him like that for someone else. Even more so when he'd see that Lucifer seemed even more soft for Alastor. His gaze infinitely bright and his smile carefree as ever, as if he didn't care for pride in that moment and all that mattered was the red deer infront of him. The way his smile would stay consistent as he'd stare at Alastor with genuine happiness, as if just being able to look at him was something worth more than Hell itself.

And his anger, his rage, reached endless amounts when he saw them treating Charlie as if she was their child. Yes, she was Lucifer's but that certainly did not warrant Alastor making her pancakes every morning and asking how her day went and combing through her unruffled hair and telling stories and even helping her pick out dresses. Alastor shouldn't be treating them like that. And he certainly shouldn't be ignoring Vox as if he didn't exist.

He wanted Alastor to fight him, glare with hatred, anything but indifference. Anything but confusion with a question, "Who are you, again?" He would've accepted anything at that point, even his usual shit-eating triumphant grin that he'd wear when looking at Vox. As if he'd won a battle that hadn't even started.

He didn't like how Alastor had almost forgotten his own rival. He didn't like how Alastor and Lucifer would have subtle gestures for each other; holding a door open, pulling a chair out for the other and even helping each other if their outfit was in some way dishevelled. He especially hated how Lucifer would deliberately ruin his own tie, just to go to Alastor and have him help. And it didn't help how Alastor would let his guard down around Lucifer, almost forgetting that Vox was always watching. And Alastor's shadow was never nearly as affectionate with Vox as it was with Lucifer.

Everything was ticking him off. And it didn't help when Val tried to offer 'relieving him' or when Vel made an offhanded remark about him being sexually-frustrated and pissy about the lack of attention from his dear rival. And he almost felt the urge to just storm over there and break them up when he'd seen Lucifer leaning in to kiss Alastor, only to realise that Vox was watching and hastily pull away.

He hated how he wasn't in Lucifer's place.

(Lucifer tops in this au btw-)

👀

[sunlightmurdock]

The Odyssey | 1.4 | Bradley Bradshaw

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist | Moodboard

In the middle of nowhere with no power, the world you knew back home feels further away than ever.

Warnings: enemies to lovers, power imbalance (professor / student relationship), age gap (22 / 33), swearing, infidelity, nudity, mentions of erections, making out.

…

“Mm, che pioverá.” Teodora had sighed, early that morning, while sitting at the breakfast table with Bradley and Pasquale, her son, and her daughter-in-law surrounding her. The three of them had paused eating to look up at the beaming sun, the still trees and the cloudless sky.

Sweat was already beading at the back of Bradley’s neck as he chewed at a mouthful of scrambled eggs.

Sandro had brushed her off with a simple shake of his head and an affectionate eye roll. Bradley had flashed an amused smile between the two of them and swallowed down his bite. Pasquale had hummed a thoughtful, but not necessarily agreeing sound.

The three of them already had plans for the day to drive out and take a look at the spinitrae at the university an hour away, after Bradley’s morning run, Pasquale’s phone call home and Sandro’s morning swim.

As usual around here, Teodora was right.

You’re woken by the first rumble of thunder. Face down, your arms wrapped securely around the pillow, Bradley’s blue shirt wrapped securely around your body. Only thirty minutes after the two of them had so briskly dismissed the old woman’s claims.

Already since then, the landscape has transformed. The skies are thick with dark clouds and the wind whips at the trees, knocking fruit to the ground with ease.

With Bradley supposedly gone for the day, you had figured that things around here would be a bit of a free for all. Zoe had suggested digging through the Gabris’ VHS collection in search of a movie in English while you go through pages of Ovid. Nothing to get up particularly early for.

The thunder makes you lift your head and frown a bit. It’s not like you have been really keeping up with the weather forecast, but yesterday’s clear skies hadn’t exactly alerted you to an oncoming storm. It’s barely rained at all since you got here.

Stretching your legs across cool sheets, you sigh and roll onto your back. It’s not cold, per se, but once you’ve strayed from the warmth of your sleeping position your skin starts to prickle with chill.

Your engagement ring stares back at you from its discarded spot on the dresser by the window. This place isn’t like a hotel, Malcolm wouldn’t have a clue which numbers to punch to reach you all the way out here. He wouldn’t even know which province you’re in. You might as well be on a different planet.

It kind of feels like you are.

The point of closing the window is what drives you out of bed first of all. You pad along the floor and turn to the window, all blackened skies and pouring rain for miles around.

Then, a figure by the trees catches your eye. Broad shoulders, tanned skin, that defined line running down the middle of his chest — you recognise him right away.

Bradley is soaked from the rain, wearing a pair of blue running shorts. Caught in the middle of the downpour, he jogs back along the path as rain beats down his back.

Your fingertips push back the edge of the curtain as your shoulder leans up against the window frame. The Gabris estate really is beautiful, miles of stretching, rolling fields and hills with dustings of green forests at its edge..

Those blue shorts sit low on his waist and they’re still exposing so much of his long, muscled legs. His chest is wet, and that cross necklace of his bounces against his collarbones with each footfall.

Maybe he feels the eyes on him, or maybe he catches you in his peripheral — either way, his gaze flickers up to the window and he catches sight of you. Catches you smiling at him.

Through the rain-splattered window pane, he spots his shirt wrapped around your shoulders, just a few of the buttons fastened. Your skin peeking through the gaps between the open buttons. Even with his run cut short, his mouth grows dry all of a sudden.

He lifts a soaked palm and cards it through his hair as he slows to a stop, attempting to tame his drenched curls. From outside, it’s hard to really tell what he’s thinking when he looks at you, especially under the cover of the rain.

You lift your hand from your side and wave your fingers at him.

The rest of the group might be up, they might not. Not a single one of them would know yet that Bradley’s trip to the university has been canceled, they wouldn’t be looking for him. Not in your room, especially.

He stands there for a second and lets himself fall into the fantasy. Walking up those stairs and clicking that heavy wooden door shut behind him. Working open the buttons on that shirt, coming to realize that you aren’t wearing anything under it.

You’re driving him crazy, and he savors every second of it. He can’t stand and stare for too long, he can already feel all of his attention rushing south. He swallows. Then, he presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek and blinks the rain from his eyes, shaking his head.

You take your bottom lip between your teeth and tug at it and shit— that really doesn’t help his problem at all. His mouth ghosts at a smile as he reminds himself to move.

His attention is back on the path ahead as he resumes his jog back to the house. Thunder rumbles in the air.

You’re free to resume your staring. You wonder if he’s even wearing underwear under those tiny shorts— doesn’t look like it.

The thought makes your cheeks hot. His perpetually warm hands soothing your chilled thighs, brushing so coolly under the cotton of his shirt, reclaiming it as he unfastens the buttons, and your mouth on his chest, the salt from his skin— his shoes on the stairs snap you out of it.

The villa is old and the stairs creak at every opportunity. He’s skipping steps, his long strides make that easy and you hear him pause at the top. His room is to the right. Yours is just a bit to the left. You swallow, holding your breath to listen out.

His footsteps fall to the right. One, two, three steps and you hear his door open and close. A dejected sigh pushes past your lips as you lean back into the wall.

He’s wet, and probably sweaty from his run. He always showers before everyone else, too. Your towel is hanging on the hook behind the door. You cross the room briskly and grab it on the way out, crossing into the hallway as he steps back out of his room, also holding his towel.

You’re two steps closer to the bathroom than he is. His eyes flicker down to your bare legs, then at his shirt hanging partially open across your chest. Finally, he meets your gaze and smiles a bit.

“Morning.”

“Morning.” You copy back, turning on your heel and crossing the hall to the bathroom. He watches your hand settle on the door knob. He catches the purposeful way you glance back at him over your shoulder, and catches on.

He thought about going into your room. He really did. With everything you have learned in the past few days, he has been trying to give you space — he figured the last thing you would want would be him getting handsy.

With the way you’re looking at him now, he’s not so sure.

He checks the hallway. Still empty. With Sandro out swimming, Pasquale yapping away in the kitchen, and Dorie painting out in the sun room, it’s like you’re alone.

He starts towards you, slowly.

“I like your shirt.”

You glance downward. This was bold. It wasn’t exactly well thought-out, rushing into the hallway barely dressed. He’s still barely dressed. His hair and his skin are still wet from the rain. He still looks warm.

“Thanks.” You answer him softly, as he comes to stand before you. He reaches out and finds your skin with his fingertips, gently stroking a pattern against your thigh.

“You about to shower?” Bradley asks you, close enough that his stomach is just about brushing yours. Your mouth is dry, and you forgot to close the window when you got out of bed. You shiver. Finally, when you remember you’ve been asked a question, you nod at him.

He hums, “Weird. Me too.”

Your eyes widen, somewhere between shock and excitement. Then, there’s a sudden cold feeling in the pit of your stomach. It’s like a physical force pushing you back. Your mother, maybe, trying to push you in the right direction from across the Atlantic.

He’s not sure what’s gotten into him, or more pressingly, what’s gotten into you. He had given you his shirt as a kind gesture, and here you are, using it against him in such a cruel, cruel way.

As his mind crosses over into the territory of saying fuck it and suggesting that he take you right here in the hallway, your gaze meets his firmly and your fingers twist the doorknob.

He swallows, feeling the nylon of his shorts grow tighter at the semblance of an invitation. The bathroom door creeps open, and you glance towards it.

He shouldn’t. Your head is all over the place. Keeping his hands to himself is the right move.

“Ladies first, I’ll wait.” He tells you, shooting you a quick wink.

That’s a no. It’s a kind way of saying no, but it’s a no nonetheless. He doesn’t want to. A quick glance downward proves to you that he's half hard in those running shorts.

“No need.” You whisper, hoping to god that was the right thing to say. The two of you can’t possibly keep whispering out in the hallway, half dressed like this. He doesn’t answer, he just blinks at you.

You swallow a breath and hold it, stepping past him and into the bathroom. The door remains loudly open behind you, like it’s a car-alarm going off right in Bradley’s ear, actually.

He inhales and steps inside, shutting the door behind him. The alarm stops.

“Stop. Look at me,” Somehow now, he feels the need to be quieter than before, and not just because this old bathroom echoes. You fidget, bare feet on cold tile as you stand before him. His brows knit together a bit. “Are you sure about this?”

You purse your lips for a moment and look down at yourself. Honesty is the best policy. You just have to figure out why you’re here yourself.

“It’s just showering.” You say it confidently, like you aren’t even trying to convince yourself. It surprises him. “Doesn’t have to be… sexual. It’s just two people in the shower. Together.”

“Right. Naked.” He reminds you.

“Right.” You copy back, hoping you sound more certain than you feel.

“And you’re cool with that?” He checks. The way he raises his eyebrows tells you that he expects you not to be. In the same breath, you catch the way his eyes flicker to the shower head behind the two of you.

You, him. Naked. You have toed that line before. It wasn’t so bad. It wasn’t bad at all actually, it was incredible.

“Yeah.” Your sudden why-wouldn’t-it-be attitude has Bradley prickling with suspicion about your motives this morning, and the morality in being in here with you when he’s certain that your head isn’t quite clear about what happened with your fiancé.

But, he reaches to his right, and bolts the lock across the door. His eyes study your face, and his fingers linger for a moment against the brass. Upholding your unspoken role in this, you twist away from him and turn on the water.

So, we’re doing this. Bradley holds onto that breath, not quite ready to let the thought pass or the exhale follow, as he drops his towel to rest against the sink basin.

You’re bent at the waist, calculating the measure of hot and cold water between the two taps, and Bradley is met with an unobstructed view of your legs. In the vein of following your impulses this morning, he considers sinking to his knees and letting his mouth greet them — but he doesn’t. He half considers tucking his hands behind his back just to remove the temptation at all.

He thinks back to that movie he saw last November, with Anthony Michael Hall and the other kids. In particular, the shower scene where too inept teenage boys stand awkwardly in the back of a shower cubicle, not knowing what to do with their hands, while a beautiful woman showers in front of them.

And then you turn to look at him again.

“You first.”

“Me…? — right,” Clothes. You’re talking about clothes. With his running shoes, he probably has more articles of clothing on than you do. Depends if you’re wearing underwear, he guesses. He isn’t. He kicks off the shoes and goes for his socks next, warm condensation starts to permeate the space between the two of you. Strange, this room feels awfully cramped already, he doesn’t know where the steam finds the space to join. “You just going to stand and watch?”

With his socks gone, he only has one article of clothing left. He hooks a thumb into the waistband of those blue nylon shorts and pushes just an inch, revealing a soft tan line and a sharp V following the shape of his hip.

Stiffly, your fingers find the buttons of his shirt. His pulse quickens, watching you watch him.

“Can I?” Bradley asks finally, rushing it out at once. He gestures to the one button left fastened, sitting above your navel.

If this was anyone else, Bradley would probably already be in the shower by now. This pace is unfamiliar, and foreign for him. He’s not quite sure where to tread.

You give him a little nod.

He takes one step forwards and pinches the button between his index and thumb, popping it open as his other hand fits securely against the small of your back and pushes you into him. There’s a second of observation as your bare stomach comes flush against his, where his eyes won’t leave your face for fear of missing some kind of a sign.

Being undressed by him as steam clouds the room, him doing absolutely nothing to hide the darkened look in his eyes. You weren’t fooling anyone by pretending that this could have been something innocent. You might as well accept it for what it is.

As his fingers dip under the material covering each of your shoulders and guide it back, off of your arms, you stretch up and kiss his mouth softly. Experimentally. He shuts his eyes and waits. Your second kiss is firmer, and your fingers reach for the nape of his neck.

He follows suit, relieved finally that he has some kind of sign about how you’re feeling about this. His hand hugs the nape of your neck, his nose bumping your cheek, his tongue swiping across your lip.

‘I like you, you know?’ Your words from yesterday afternoon have been playing in his mind all night. He’s an idiot for not saying more, he just hadn’t wanted to push his luck.

“Come on, we can’t be in here all morning.” He remembers, against your mouth.

“Right.” You sigh, eyes closed as you lean in for another kiss.

With your back to him, you drop your underwear to the ground with his shirt as he steps out of his shorts. You step into the tub first, falling under the safety of the warm spray. He steps in behind you, his fingers finding your waist.

You’re naked. Completely naked, and so is he. With your back to him, he can’t really see you, and you’ve no way of seeing him. The thought of turning around makes your chest feel tight.

He hasn’t ever had to feel so calculated about this before. Is he an appropriate distance away? — well, nothing about this is appropriate, but is he making it worse? — Are you waiting for him to make a move or do you want him to keep his hands to himself?

“I thought you were going to the university today.” You say to the wall of tile in front of you.

“Yeah. Weather took a turn, the road through town floods when it rains like this, apparently.” Bradley answers you.

The only parts of him that are touching you are his fingers. Experimentally, you lean your head back and as expected, it falls to rest against his shoulder. It just looks like you’re rinsing your hair.

His fingers stray from your hip and unfurl across your bare stomach, as he drops his head to press a soft kiss to the curve of your shoulder. That’s safe enough.

Heart racing, you lift your arms and pull your hair back, saturating it under the stream of water. As you stretch up to do so, your back curves away from him and your ass grazes his thigh.

He swallows thickly. Looking down, he knows you feel the way his half-hard package is pressing into the back of your hip. He turns his face toward your neck, kissing softly.

In a last ditch effort to regulate your breathing before he offers you a nebulizer, you screw your eyes shut. In the dark, you feel his heartbeat against your back, his warm fingers smoothing along your middle, his lips on your throat, and his erection behind you.

“God.”

His mouth stills against your neck. The tickle of his mustache alerts you to the hint of a smile on his lips.

“You alright?” He’s referring to the way you had audibly whimpered inches from his ear, in this extremely tight enclosed space, of course.

“Mhm.” You squeak.

He nuzzles the tip of his nose against the crook of your jaw. “You’re shaking.”

You swallow. “It’s cold.”

“It’s not.” He reminds you.

Screwing your eyes shut once again, you “Yeah. I’m sorry.”

Slowly, he tucks two fingers around the hair at the nape of your neck and guides it away from your shoulders. With your eyes closed, you feel his breath on your neck first. It’s cooler than the steam from the shower and it hits exactly the right spot between your collar and jaw to make you shiver.

He takes hold of your bicep and turns you steadily towards him, biting at his lip as he finds you just opening your eyes. He knows that if you look too long, you’ll panic. He presses swiftly forwards, his bare chest flush against yours as his open mouth closes around your pulse point.

Mm. The sound slips from your mouth before he is even done with the first kiss, while his fingers are still stretching around your hip and while his tongue is just softly greeting your warm skin.

For a man who, less than three days ago, was adamantly telling you in the streets of Florence that sleeping together would be a bad idea, Bradley sure does seem to be okay with all of this.

He’s okay with it. Too comfortable with it, really. He’s still holding back. If he wasn’t, he would flatten his palm against your ass and pull you against him, and let you feel exactly how comfortable with it he really is.

Instead, he focuses his attention on his mouth. Flowing opposite to the droplets of water, he sucks softly at the tender skin, trailing towards your jaw.

Each time his lips close around a new inch of skin, there’s an urging ebb that prods at you like electricity, buzzing within you and leaving you powerless. His frame towers before you; you know he would catch you if your knees actually did give out but you’d rather die than live through the embarrassment.

Like he shares the same sentiment of keeping you on your feet, Bradley’s hands flex around your waist, curling tighter around your soft skin. He pulls back, sweeping a hand through his wet curls as he studies your face.

He’s getting better at this, reading you.

His eyes break away from yours, and his gaze slips downwards. He’s dead quiet, drinking you in, studying your naked body.

The water droplets seem to have it all figured out. Spilling over your shoulders, flowing along the valley between your breasts. His gaze lingers there for more than just a few droplets.

Each one of your shaking breaths disrupts the pattern in a new way, rise and fall, spill and flow. Water beads across the soft flesh, flowing right past the warmed, softened, flushed skin of your nipples.

Maybe that water doesn’t have it all figured out after all — Bradley thinks there’s no way he could pass that by so freely.

Then, he watches where the droplets spill to once they pass your breasts by. They surge across your soft stomach, spilling across your abdomen, dripping into the navel and tracing the dulcet curve of your hips.

He hasn’t ever had you like this. Unobstructed, unwavering — all-encompassing. There could be a flood outside and he wouldn’t care. He knows he should be grateful for this, alone, and he is, it’s enough, you’re more than enough, but there’s a greed growing in him that wants more.

He wants to inhale the fresh, soapy smell of your skin. Taste the remnants of yourself on your skin, before it’s scrubbed clean. Feel you melt into him. His gaze flickers back up to yours like a drumbeat.

It makes you stiffen, the sudden look in his eyes. All red-blooded, lust-driven, filthy thoughts pooling into the soft browns of his irises.

Before he loses the nerve, or before you do, he tips your chin back swiftly and kisses you hard enough that the two of you fall into the cold tiles behind you.

Sturdy, centuries old structure behind your back and even sturdier, warm weight against your front, you’re pinned at an angle and your feet feel like they’re slipping but you’re smart enough to know that falling isn’t an option.

A deep and desperate sound falls from his lips as he pulls back, his forehead knocking into yours. Your mouth hangs open, your eyes wide, like you know just what Bradley’s thinking when he looks at it.

He squeezes at your body, leaning forwards and letting his mouth cover yours. You’re just about growing comfortable with it, with his nose bumping your cheek and his broad shoulders, his weight pinning you to the wall. Then, his hand skims along the centre of your back and without warning, squeezes firmly around the flesh of your ass.

It’s not that it feels bad. In fact, there’s something that makes you want to keen into the rough touch that you don’t quite understand. But all of a sudden, it clicks that you’re pinned between him and the wall, and his weight is a heavy anchor, his hands are everywhere and his mouth is hot.

He feels your fingernails press weakly into his bicep.

“Stop.” you tell him quietly. Really, you aren’t even sure if he would hear you. Maybe Malcolm hadn’t heard you, if you had asked him to stop.

He pulls back swiftly and looks down at you, both hands planting safely on your hips. He’s watching you carefully, but he doesn’t have to search hard go find what he’s looking for.

“Yeah?” He says softly, nodding.

It’s an instant thing, the way you shrink back into the wall behind you and duck your head. “I’m sorry.”

“No,” he swallows and gives a shake of his head. He got carried away, that’s all. “You’re right. We should hurry up.”

And just like that, it’s not about sex. The fear in your eyes fades to recognition, and Bradley leans forwards and presses his lips to your forehead.

The two of you finish your shower in strictly platonic nature. One by one, you duck out of the bathroom and leave behind any evidence of your morning together, to get ready for the day.

Trees bow under the weight of the fat raindrops as the rumble of thunder grows closer. The villa groans and creaks, shutters rattling and slamming. The power gets knocked out a little after two, leaving very little for anyone in the house to do.

Bodies are strewn lazily around the living room everywhere you look. Luke’s taking up the majority of the couch, his raven-coloured hair tucked back under a Jets cap and a book balanced against his sternum, a concentrated frown plastered across his face.

Bradley got the good spot, tucked halfway into the reading desk in the far right corner of the room. His face is illuminated by a cluster of flickering candles, sitting amongst his piles of papers. Alessandro sits beside him, the two of them have been talking away for hours now. Their conversation is muted for the benefit of others, but you can hear the occasional Italian cuss word from your spot on the floor.

“Do you think they used to jerk it to these pictures?” Zoe whispers. You glance up at her, then across at Abigail.

She grins, lifting up the book and turning it onto its side, displaying a printed artwork like a centerfold. “See? Like an ancient playboy? — Miss June, and Miss July.”

Bradley looks up as the three of you giggle for the third time in ten minutes. It doesn’t take him long, when looking at the way Zoe is pointing out the spread legs of a woman riding a man, to notice the comparison she’s making to modern pornography.

He’s used to it by now, his students pointing at tits in the books and giggling to themselves. If she was doing her work, she would be reading about exactly what made the mulier equitans so popular in Roman art.

You’re laying on your front, looking up from the pages of your notes, with a soft grin toying at your lips. None of them know how you started your morning.

Today, Bradley is studying a passage from Ovid’s Art of Love, depicting various forms of copulation and the cultural attitude to them at that time. Sexual variety fascinated the masses back then. Paintings in homes, carved into architecture, spinitrae tokens in Pompeii.

Astrology and its links to sexual preferences. An intriguing read, really.

“Man, this is a wicked storm.” Robin glances over her shoulder at the mass of bodies lazing around the living room, then back out of the window at the sheets of rain pouring onto the fields beyond.

“This is wicked boring.” Luke says from his spot on the couch. As one of Bradley’s best teaching assistants, this work comes much more easily to him than it would to most. He could finish it in thirty minutes if he wanted to.

“Hey, Bradley—“

“No.” Bradley says swiftly.

Luke’s mouth stretches into a little-brotherly kind of annoying grin as he tucks an arm behind his head. “Come on. We’re bored.”

“Sounds wicked tough, dude.” Bradley answers, looking back down to the book, mocking his student so coolly. Luke has always found an older brother in Bradley, so the taunting just makes his grin stretch wild.

From your spot on the ground, you find yourself smiling at the pages at Bradley’s joke.

“Can you teach me how to do that card trick where it’s upside down in the deck?” Luke persists. You didn’t know that Bradley knew any card tricks.

“No.” He answers bluntly, but in the kind of way that shows he’s clearly still getting some kind of enjoyment out of this rapport with Luke.

“Bradley, did you ever tell anyone else that you took piano lessons for like twelve years?” Luke asks, shooting a pointed look at the baby grand in the corner of the room.

Bradley looks up at him, and your mouth twitches. A red flush starts at his ears and spreads across his temples, onto his cheeks and down his neck. You’ve never seen a grown man blush like that.

“Don’t go there, buddy.” Bradley warns him, knowing equally embarrassing facts about Luke and starting to categorize them in his mind.

“Did you really, Bradley?” Abigail asks.

He glances at her, then makes a point of trying to focus on his work once again. Big, boyish Bradley, delicately tapping away at the keys of a piano is difficult to imagine.

“He sings too.” Luke declares.

“Luke.” Bradley warns, not looking up this time, flushed pink.

You’ve never seen Bradley be quite this shy about anything. He frowns at the pages of his book, oh, so serious.

“C’mon. One song and I’ll leave you alone. We’re bored.” For once, you’re on Luke’s side. Not that you would voice that.

The wind whips the side of the house and the shutters rattle in support of Luke’s campaign. Bradley starts to scribble down nonsense annotations in the effort of getting at least something done.

“Go find a puzzle or something.” He mutters.

“Aw, come on, Bradley, please?” Zoe joins in.

“Just one song.” Robin adds.

Bradley looks up, and finds you. Caught smiling at him from the carpet, clearly amused by the entire situation. You stare back at him, unwavering and expectant.

With a dejected exhale, he looks down at his watch. “One. And then none of you are allowed to speak to me until at least 4pm.”

You know that he would make an exception to that rule for you. There’s no planned alone time for the two of you this afternoon, since he was supposed to be out. Maybe he’s as disappointed about that as you are.

“Play something we know this time.” Luke interjects as Bradley crosses the room to the piano. Last time, Bradley sang a track from the 50s and Luke didn’t have a clue what the hell it was.

Bradley untucks the bench from the piano, and sits down. His back is straight as he removes the cover and settles his fingers onto the keys. “Uh-huh, like what?”

“What, you’re thirty-three and you don’t listen to the radio anymore?” Luke scoffs.

Bradley closes his eyes for a second and tries to think of a song that he knows how to play from this decade. He doesn’t play too much these days.

The room is quiet, even the rain seems to have quieted in anticipation for his performance.

He shoots one more pointed look toward Luke, and then presses his fingers into the keys. You settle your chin against your palm as he taps out the opening chords of I guess that’s why they call it the blues.

Just like everything he does, he makes it seem effortless, fluidly playing the melody. And then he starts to sing.

You watch him across the darkened room. The candlelight flickers on his face as lightning strikes outside. Don’t wish it away, don’t look at it like it’s forever.

His fingers press gently into the keys, the only noise in the otherwise silent room. Alessandro sits back in his chair and smiles softly, knowing how much easier Bradley would have been convinced to perform all those years ago.

His voice is deeper than you would have expected, but soft as he finishes the first verse. God, he’s handsome.

It couldn’t possibly have taken longer than four and a half minutes for him to get through the song, but it feels like you watch him play all afternoon. Broad-shouldered, serious, still flushed-pink even once he has stopped singing. He turns sheepishly to face the room.

“Encore!” Luke whoops before anyone else gets a chance to say a word. Bradley groans, pushing himself up from the chair swiftly and rolling his eyes.

“Bite me.”

Zoe whips around to face you, clearly not as captivated by the performance as you had been. “Bradley’s kinda hot when he sings.”

Your mouth flattens, purely because it occurs to you suddenly that it wouldn’t be appropriate to smile. If she thinks he’s hot when he’s singing, she would be captivated by what you had gotten to see in the shower this morning.

The afternoon workload grows tiresome quickly, and Bradley watches his students filter out of the living room one by one. You disappear with Zoe and Abigail trailing in tow a little after three.

Alessandro’s wife serves a family style dinner, since the house is full and it’s still too rainy for anyone to have other plans. Bradley sits at the far end with Sandro and Dorie, all of them talking in politely hushed tones. You are at the opposite end, finding yourself missing those private dinners the two of you had gotten to share in the city.

After dinner, Bradley knows that his room upstairs is likely to be occupied after seeing Robin’s hand wandering across Luke’s board shorts at dinner. He disappears into the study to finish up with his work, and you call it an early night.

Well, you try to. After rereading the same three pages of Sarah Keene’s Air of Enchantment six times, you give up and head back for the stairs. The house is quiet and empty feeling. Without power, you guess there isn’t a lot to do around here.

You trail your fingers along the wallpaper, rounding the entryway into the now empty living room. The bench of the piano is still untucked from where Bradley had sat earlier. You let yourself be drawn towards it, taking a seat and brushing your fingers along the keys. Dust under your fingertips, candlesticks burning around the room — you figure that Sandro or his wife must be around somewhere if there are still candles lit.

There’s no sneaking around in a house like this. The handle clicks, and the wood creaks loudly from a room away. Bradley’s weight passes across noisy floorboards, growing closer.

He was hoping to see you, trying to convince himself to stay away from your room. His lips twitch. His eyes flicker over the grey track shorts and the Nicks jersey you’re wearing, casual and comfy, with your hair down. He likes it.

“Hey.” He says softly.

“Hey.” You answer, watching him. Maybe someday you’ll talk him out of wearing those t-shirts that are too sizes too big for him, but today’s not that day. It hangs on his broad frame as he walks towards you.

He leans down and presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, squeezing your shoulder with a warm palm.

“Here.” You realize suddenly, shifting over as far as you can on the bench to make room for him. He glances down, knowing he won’t fit, and decides to perch half off of the bench anyways.

At your side, Bradley considers bringing up this morning. It’s been itching at him all day to know what about his behavior in the shower had been too much. He’s been wishing he was a mind reader, really. He would love to figure out exactly what he can do to make you relax.

“I didn’t know you played piano.” You tell him, watching your fingers ghost over the keys.

“I don’t, so much anymore.” He answers.

“I liked hearing you play.” You say.

He turns his head, smoothing his fingers along the length of your spine. Maybe he won’t hit Luke for revealing his secret after all.

Luke wants to do what Bradley does, and Bradley is only nine years older than he is — they had grown close quickly when Luke has first started TA’ing for him. Luke knows plenty about Bradley, and Bradley knows plenty about Luke. He hopes the two of you never get to making small talk, really.

“Will you play it again?”

He blinks, broken from his train of thought, and finding you looking at him now. Bradley looks between the piano and your face, his brows drawing slightly together.

”The same thing?” Bradley asks, displaying that awful habit he’s got of leaning one of those thick shoulders into you, crowding your space and grounding you with his presence. His thumb brushes tenderly over the tip of your nose, then across the bow of your top lip as he tips his head to one side. “You don’t want to hear anything else?”

You purse your lips in thought, then shake your head. The way your lips twist and hint at a smile just drives him crazy. Like he really has to work for the full thing. You shrug your shoulders at him. “Can’t a girl want a private rendition?”

He taps his thumb against your chin, his fingers stretching along the underside of your jaw. He doesn’t make you work for the smile that he gives you. Really, he would have to fight to keep it off of his face. “Fine.”

The tip of his tongue dips from between his lips to wet them, then he sighs softly and straightens into proper posture and turns his attention towards the keys. Your arm loops under his, your head settles to rest against his shoulder. He likes that feeling.

Wind whips rain against the shutters. The older ones creak and bang in complaint, unprepared for such miserable weather. Bradley’s fingers tap fluidly at the keys. Your fingertips trail the vein in his forearm up to the cuff of his rolled shirt sleeve.

He sings quieter than before. After all, this performance is just for you now. His voice is softer, if it wasn’t so effortlessly melodic, it would be like he’s reading to you. He doesn’t have to, there’s no sheet music in front of him and he knows which keys he’s reaching for, but his gaze remains solely on the piano. He can feel you looking at him.

From where your head is resting against his shoulder, you’re peering up at him with your obstructed view of his face. Your touch tickles against his forearm, your fingertips grazing the strap of his wristwatch with each trip.

As the first verse ends and the pace of the song builds into the chorus, Bradley winkles his nose slightly in concentration. Your lips twitch. The shutters bang against the old house. He turns his head and catches your gaze; you pull back so that he can really see you.

And I guess that’s why they call it the blues;

time on my hands could be time spent with you.

Laughing like children, living like lovers, rolling like thunder, under the covers.

And by the time he gets the words out, he’s smiling again. Not because of the absurdity of him performing Elton John for the second time in one evening, or because this is far from what he would have chosen to sing you, but because of the way you’re watching him.

Like you’re watching him play Sonata No. 14.

Long before Elton John first graced the US charts, Bradley would be sent over to his grandmother’s neighbor’s house every Thursday for two hours while the adults were at work. There, he sat at the piano and seethed to the pace of the metronome while a miserable seventy year old war vet scolded his posture. He hated playing piano back then.

It’s not so bad anymore.

And that miserable old man wasn’t really a bad teacher. Maybe Bradley was just a bad student.

Just stare into space, picture my face in your hands. Live for each second,

He turns his attention back towards the keys like he didn’t have the song memorized by ‘84.

And never forget I’m your man.

Wait on me, girl. Cry in the night if it helps. But more than ever, I simply love you, more than I love life itself.

Your head settles back against the warm muscle of his shoulder. Your fingers dance along the sensitive inseam of his forearm. You close your eyes and the rain grows louder, Bradley’s breaths between the lyrics grow deeper.

This is nice. You let your mind wander, wondering if evenings would always look like this with Bradley, if he would always sing you the same song over and over. On evenings like this, he would kiss the top of your head and tell you he loved you, and you would tell him the same.

It’s not hard to picture.

Your eyes remain closed through the chorus and remaining verses. Just the soft cotton of his shirt against your cheek, the rumble of his singing voice and the rain outside.

He swallows and clears his throat quietly, as he withdraws his hands from the keys.

“What’s your favourite song?” You ask him softly. His hands rest in his lap, his eyes on the painting directly across from him. He takes a moment to think about it.

“Have you ever heard the song Take it To the Limit by The Eagles?” You might not have, he figures that since you probably would have been in school when that album came out, you probably weren’t as big of an Eagles fan as he was.

You shake your head softly. “I don’t think so. What’s it sound like?”

He pulls back, and raises his eyebrows at you. “Is this an elaborate plan to get me to play for you all night?”

Your smile grows bashful, but your eyes remain steadily on him. “I just want to hear how it goes.”

“Well, what’s your favourite song?”

“You know that song from last summer, rhythm of the night?”

Bradley stares back at you. His eyes wrinkle at the edges and his mouth breaks into a grin before the laughter bubbles over and he spills forwards.

“Like El de Barge? Forget about the worries on your mind, da-da-da-duh-da-da?” You’ve never heard Bradley giggling quite like this before, literally tickled pink by your revelation as he jokingly hums out the words.

You’re powerless but to grin back at him. “Uh-huh. What’s wrong with that?”

Alessandro peers into the sitting room as he passes by. He doesn’t take time to stop and stare at the two of you sharing the piano bench, giggling with each other, but now he understands what the other students have all been gossiping about.

“I was expecting Madonna or — Wham, or something.” Bradley manages through his giggles, swiping a hand through his curls, almost gaining composure before bubbling over into laughter again.

“Sure, I like them,” You agree with him, smiling dumbly at the way he leans into you to laugh, “But come on! — You just can’t listen to that song and not feel happy!”

He’s up so close that you could kiss him when he finally gets himself together, still smiling softly back at you. Driven by his amused disbelief, he shakes his head softly. His fingers brush against your knee.

All of a sudden he has this image of you wandering around with that headset covering your ears, and De Barge being the soundtrack you have picked. Scowling at him from the back of the minivan, listening to such an upbeat track.

“You’re a trip.” He tells you.

Your eyes flicker downward, briefly catching on the way his fingers are curled into the skin of your thigh. Not too hard, just kind of holding you close. His own eyes follow suit, and linger on the way your hands sit in your lap. On your still bare ring finger.

When he looks at you this time, he’s thinking of the shower this morning. Your head lulling back onto his shoulder, sighing in pleasure as you just let yourself enjoy the moment. His lips tug at a soft smile.

“So, will you play that song for me? — Your favourite?” You ask. There isn’t a lot of room on the bench so, as you twist to face towards him, your thigh sits across the top of his, halfway into his lap.

Maybe he will end up playing for you all night, after all. He shoots you an amusedly pointed look, then lifts his hands and settles them onto the keys once more.

You grin at him, shifting closer again, settling your cheek against his shoulder.

Tags: @thedroneranger @batdanceq @cassiemitchele @himbos-on-ice @wkndwlff @bradshawsbaby @damrlova @fudge13 @xoxabs88xox @mak-32 @sihtricswife @callsignvenus @callsign-joyride @harper1666@krismdavis @sheisanangell @cherrycola27 @kmc1989 @sugarcoated-lame @mshistorylover

[queenpiranhadon]

ᴅᴀʏ ꜱɪx: April 19th

Syn: You make the cake and decorate for the party.

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

A/N: I'm actually really happy about how this event turned out- all the fics written in this collaboration can be read separately, but it's recommended you read them all in order :) The master list is here, go check out the other writers because they're so amazing and talented AUGH.

Warning(s): Cursing (it's Katsuki what are you gonna do), bad baking terminology, maybe ooc idk, reader is referred to as female like once- Kiri calls her ma'am, reader compliments Katsuki's ass lmao, just fluffy in general though, class 3-A, reader is in the hero course.

This was it. Tomorrow, your plan would finally be put in motion.  

It was the 19th of April, and to say the very least, you were stressed.  

Stressed might not be the word for it. More like anxiety, excitement and fear into one overwhelming emotion that you couldn't convey into words. Tomorrow was Katsuki’s 18th birthday. And everything had to be perfect.  

You sat in your dorm room, thumbing the pages of the cookbook you so loving made him, picturing his own rough hands touching the book the same way when you gave it to him. Your heart warmed at the thought- your boyfriend never ceased to give you butterflies, even without intending to.  

Doubt plagued your mind however- what if he didn’t like it? What if he thought it was too dumb, or too simple- should you have done more?!  

No, you scold yourself. You needed to trust yourself. You knew Katsuki well- he excelled in the extravagant, but he still found joy in the smaller things.  

Still... you couldn’t help but worry. This would be a big day for him-a huge milestone. You didn’t want to mess it up.  

Setting the cookbook down, you finally place it into the bag you had for him, jet black with orange stuffing. The small action put the whole situation into perspective for you.  

This was finally happening. 

But you still had work to do today. Pulling out your phone, you open the messaging app, and click on the contact you needed.  

You: Mission Keep Katsuki Away is a go >:) 

Kiri🥊: Yes ma’am >:)) 

Turning off your phone, you pocket it, and leave your dorm room. All that was left to do was the cake.  

After slaving through the school day, you all return to your dorms, with the exception of Kirishima and Katsuki, the former dragging the latter away for something he called “a bro date”. You chuckled at his excuse, and left them to their own devices as you returned to Heights Alliance, sending a text to Kirishima as you walked.  

You: Hey! What’s your status? 

Kiri 🥊: Just got to the bus! I’ll keep him busy as long as I can 

You: Perfect!! 

You: Thank you so much again 

Kiri 🥊: No problem! He’s going to love it, you put so much work into making this special for him :D 

You: Aww...thanks Kiri! Fingers crossed 😭 

You weren’t terrible at baking per se, but you weren’t no Sato. And you would ask him to make the cake himself, but you didn’t want to ask too much of anyone.  

So it was up to you. You wanted to make a small two-tiered cake, it would be enough to feed all of 3-A and hopefully there would be leftovers.  

Sifting through the pantry you found what you needed one by one. Cocoa powder, dark cocoa powder, eggs, milk, butter, flour, baking soda, the list went on. You were making a chocolate cake, covered in dark chocolate ganache, drizzled with caramel. Katsuki wasn’t a big fan of sweets, and you knew that, but cake was cake. You also knew that he secretly did have a sweet tooth so he wouldn’t be too upset. Hopefully the bitterness of the dark chocolate would make the rest of the cake a little less sweet to align with the explosive blond’s tastes.  

Grabbing three large bowls and the mixer Sato let you borrow, you get to work, mixing wet and dry ingredients separately, cracking eggs, melting chocolate, and whisking like your life depended on it.  

While you baked, you popped in an earbud, sweet music, lifting your mood and dancing around the kitchen, in your own world.  

And hour later, the two tiers of the cake were in the oven, (not before tasting the batter yourself of course) and you look around at the kitchen, the adrenaline rushing out of you. It was a mess. The was flour in your hair, on your face, and you’re pretty sure the cocoa powder on your shirt is going to stain.  

You sigh, taking off your earbuds and pausing the music from your phone. At least the cake was done.  

Grabbing the cleaning supplies from the closet, you get to work, making sure the kitchen was spotless so no one (namely Katsuki, for obviously reasons, and Ochaco and the self-proclaimed Bakusquad because they would beg you to have a taste of their own) would know what you were up to.  

The cakes were done by the time you finished, taking them out of the oven and sealing the two layers together with some ganache.  

You had asked Mr. Aizawa to reserve Gym Gamma for you previously, getting his permission to decorate the space for the party, and so you made your way there now, deciding to decorate the cake in the Gym itself so you wouldn’t have to move it afterwards.  

You got Ochako to float the cake and the toppings for it to the gym itself, so in the meantime, you busied yourself with setting up all the food- something you didn’t want to do yesterday as it would’ve gone stale.

You recruited the help of Kaminari, Sero, Mina and Kyoka to help you carry everything- including the mini fridge you saved up to buy to store the food and drinks overnight. You’d take them out the next morning.

When you got there, you were surprised to see Midoriya, Todoroki, Tsu, Iida, and Momo there alongside Ochako who explained they all wanted to help. 

You feel your smile stretch across your face, happy to see so many people who wanted to give Katsuki the best birthday ever.  

Splitting up the work, Midoriya, Todoroki and Iida went to go find the plates, cups, bowls, and cutlery you bought with Mitsuki - something you thought may have been overkill, but she had planned everything down to a T.

The others flitted around, either helping to put food or drink items into the fridge, or checking to make sure nothing happened to the decorations overnight.

You took to decorating the cake. Pouring the ganache over the first tier, you used it as an adhesive of sorts and you lifted the second layer on top of it. Once you did that, you poured the remaining ganache over the entire cake, evenly, so it created a pretty coat on top that you were sure it would add a nice crunch to the cake itself.

You groaned, stabbing your spatula into the quickly hardening ganache, having to ask Todoroki to heat it up every few minutes so that it wouldn’t harden completely- an annoyingly tedious task, but you knew Katsuki hated the taste of frosting- so hopefully he would appreciate the favor.

You waited for it to harden, then adding drizzles of caramel everywhere, and strategically placing strawberries where you could for a refreshing change in flavor.

And then lastly, adding thin golden candles to the cake, ten on the bottom row, and seven on the top. Momo created a special candle shaped like one of his gauntlets that you put in the center of the circle of seven candles on the top. And finally, you were done.

Momo made another contraption for you, a tall glass dome with temperature settings that you would put on the cake to prevent the strawberry from going bad overnight. After setting the cake on its stand, you put the dome over it, thanking Momo for her help.

It was then when you received two texts.

You open the first one, snorting when you read what it has to say.  

Katsu 💥🧡: Oi, I know you’re up to something- Shitty Hair just dragged me to the damn movie theater to watch some stupid Crimson Riot movie. 

You: Aww it couldn’t have been that bad!! 

You: Can’t the all mighty Lord Explosion Murder God Dynamight survive a short movie date? 

You: Plus I told you- I'm not up to anything lmao 

Katsu 💥🧡: I call bullshit 

Katsu 💥🧡: Plus that movie was three damn hours- short my ass 

You: To be fair, you do have a nice ass 

You: I KID I KID  

You: But I promise you’ll get extra cuddles when you get back my big baby 

Katsu 💥🧡: Fuck off 

Katsu 💥🧡: Meet me at my dorm after dinner

Katsu 💥🧡: And don’t think I’m letting at comment about my ass go 

You can’t stop the amused smile from spreading across your face as you check the other text message, one from Kirishima this time.  

Kiri 🥊: Hey! We’re about 15 minutes away- we'll be back around 18:32 PM 

You: Kiri jesus christ- you tell me this now?! 

Kiri: Sorry!! 

You put your phone down, yelling at everyone to finish up and get back to the dorms as soon as possible, people scrambling around to put the finishing touches together before bolting out of the gym, you along with them.  

Thankfully, you all made it back in time, flopping down on the couches just at the door opens to reveal a beaming Kirishima and a grumpy Katsuki.  

The latter raises an eyebrow at all of you, sending a narrow-eyed glare at you. 

“Why’re ya so outta breath?” He grunts suspiciously and you chuckle sheepishly in return.  

“Mina challenged Kaminari and Sero to go a piggyback race against Todoroki and Iida.” You laugh, the lie rolling off your tongue as the others nod in agreement. 

“We totally won.” Sero says smugly, and Todoroki sends him a confused look.  

“But-”  

Kaminari cuts him off, slinging his arm around the heterochromatic eyed boy nonchalantly. “It’s not winning if you use your quirk Todo-bro.” 

Katsuki rolls his eyes, all interest in the conversation out the window, as he starts making dinner for everyone, something he started doing a while ago when he lost faith in 3-A's ability to not burn the kitchen down.  

After you all settled down and ate, you and Katsuki returned to his room, making yourself comfortable in his bed as he joins you, pulling you close and letting his sore muscles melt into your embrace.  

You, however, couldn’t force yourself to relax, your body buzzing with excitement as tomorrow would arrive.  

Taglist ~

@gina239 @azzo0 @slayfics @zanarkandskylines @cashmoneyyysstuff

@xbabyd0lli3x @lowkeyremi @starieq @angels-fantasy

@ah-mya @food8me @katsuisbaby @meowze4r @bigsimpo343

@seonne @wheezdostuff @berryvioo @icedemon1314 @mystic60

@kit-katsukii @stoned-anime-babe @kukikoooo

@le000xxgrd @tr-mha-fan

[creedslove]

EASTER WITH THE MILLERS 🐰 - HEADCANONS

No outbreak!Joel Miller x f!wife!reader

A/N: Happy Easter everybody!

• The Miller household wasn't that big when it came to Easter celebration, perhaps Joel could attend church but that was a long shot because he would usually be too tired and straight up lazy to go

• but other than that, he would just get Sarah some treats - and also himself, eating it late at night or just keeping in his candy stash and get some takeout and that was it

• even if they didn't actually have the habit of celebrating it per se, he would love whenever she came back from school Friday before Easter with paper made bunny ears and face painting; it melted his heart to no end and he would always take a picture of her, these were one of his favorites and after Sarah went to college, staring at them makes him tear up but he would never admit it, so you just have to pretend you didn't see it

• and once Sarah wasn't little anymore and went off to college, he stopped buying chocolate and stuff like that, and Easter became just a regular Sunday. Maybe he'd hang out with Tommy if he wasn't spending it with some chick, otherwise he would mow the lawn or something

• that was it until you came into his life, instead of lying on the couch eating takeout or leftovers, his holidays actually acquired meaning and joy because of you and your will to make Joel remember he's got a home, not just a house

• before the wedding, you'd very often spend it at your parents' or at some relative's place, sharing a big lunch and exchanging chocolate, he enjoyed it a lot, but he also missed something smaller and cozier so after you both officially got married, you two decided to spend Easter at home, even if it wasn't going to be like it used to be when Joel was single

• Instead, you'd start by decorating the house. You weren't a decoration freak but it wouldn't hurt to have perhaps a tablecloth, a centerpiece, or dishtowel Easter themed, also some decorative Easter bunny holding a basket with eggs in the front porch and stuff like that

• Joel found amusing to see it all, he actually loved to see how excited you got and how it full of love his house became; you were a real blessing for him

• for the menu, he would prepare his famous barbecue and you would also make your delicious casserole, Joel loves your casserole and he could eat it all by himself, so he would be really looking forward to it

• for dessert you'd make him anything he wants: chocolate cake, chocolate pie, chocolate pudding, chocolate cookies or whatever he chooses, the important thing is to him happy

• if the weather is good enough, you can set the table in the garden, but if lunch is inside, then it's also good, as long as you are spending it with your husband

• he chuckles when he sees you wearing the same bunny ears you had to wear at work during the week, it makes you look cute and also sexy but he always pretends to be annoyed when you place the bunny ears on him and even more so when you snap pictures of it

• and yes, he makes you wear the same bunny ears when you go to bed and you ride his cock at night, thankful to have spent another special day by your side, he couldn't have chosen a better wife than you ❤️

____