#things that make me feel warmer inside and appreciate the complexity and detail of the world around me

[modrzew-hub]

thinking about the Hungarian card game known as "Paszkievics tarokk" after general Paskevich (who surpressed their rebellion in 1848) because you need 48 points to win the game, and thinking about the traditional Polish "Grunwald" moonshine recipe (1 kg of sugar/4 litres of water/10 dag of yeast), 1410 being the date of the Battle of Grunwald

[kindahoping4forever]

...Ready For It? // Ashton Irwin

Thank you to everyone who said they wanted to read this story, whether it was in the poll I posted 12 hours ago or when I first posted In My Dreams... You Should See The Things We Do back in June (!) - I actually started working on this not that long after I posted and while the skeleton concept stayed the same, everything else was kind of fluid until last month when I finally felt satisfied with it. As always, thank you to @cal-puddies​ for listening to me whine and obsess over every detail and for (virtually) slapping me upside the head every time I said I was going to just scrap it (and there were many times, trust.)

Note this is a sequel but I think there’s enough context within this piece that you’d be able to enjoy as a standalone if you haven’t read or forgot what happened during In My Dreams...

Warnings: Sexual tension, frustration and resolution. I couldn’t figure out how to do specific warnings without also spoiling the narrative (yes, really) so this is kind of a blanket fluffy smut warning. The sex is explicit in detail but not extreme in nature. ‘Tis a soft, dirty story you’re about to read. Also yes, Ash wears the mountain pants again and no, I will not apologize. 

Word Count: 10,555

Masterlist // Ko-Fi and New 2021 Taglist linked above

Let  me  know  what  you  think!

“I can’t say this is how I imagined getting you out of your clothes for the first time but after months of isolation, I’ll take what I can get,” you quip.

Ashton giggles as he peels off his button down shirt, leaving him in a classic white tank. “I can’t say anything about tonight has gone the way I imagined it would,” he confesses. “I’m sorry things have been kind of a bust.”

You try not to blatantly ogle his muscular build as you playfully jab, “You mean, you didn’t spend all that time longing for us to spend hours waiting outside a restaurant for a socially distant table only to be turned away because now it’s closing time and ending up having to eat drive thru burgers in the backseat of your car?”

“With ketchup dripping all over one of my best shirts? And you saving the day with a suspiciously convenient stain remover pen?” He riffs, passing his top to you.

“Exactly how I pictured it,” you shrug, dabbing at his shirt with the aforementioned magic pen.  “Shame, our fantasies tend to match up a lot better than this.”

You’d never thought much of long distance relationships and you especially never thought you’d find yourself in one with only a few miles separating you but 2020 had been full of surprises; getting to know Ash had turned out to be the silver lining in an otherwise terrible year. 

You’ve each reflected on it plenty and agreed it seems as if your connection was destined to see you both through this strange period. You met at the last party you were invited to before quarantine started, you ran into each other again at the last concert either of you got to attend. Your first date was also your final restaurant meal, the last time you went to a movie was with a group of mutual friends and you sat next to him, giggling like a teenager, intentionally brushing his fingers in the popcorn tub.

When the stay at home order was issued, it didn’t take long for you to check in with each other and while it wasn’t an easy time, you were grateful to build a bond with literally no outside influence. And now after countless texted inside jokes, heart to heart phone calls (and more than a few naughty ones), restrictions had been relaxed and you were finally able to reunite. Only the real world is proving to be a bit more complicated than either of you remember.

“You know, I’m not usually a ‘hop in the backseat on a first date’ kind of gal, but this is pretty fun,” you joke.

Ashton grins. “If it makes you feel any better, I think technically this is maybe our third or fourth date?”

“Anything pre-quarantine doesn’t count,” you shake your head insistently. “That was a lifetime ago, another world. I cook now, I go for walks, I do crosswords now. Whoever you went out with in The Before Times - I don’t know her.”

His loud laugh fills the car and the warmth of it overwhelms you; after months of hearing it through a speaker, you can’t believe you’re finally getting to witness it in person. 

"So if we’re starting over at square one, then what’s the explanation for that kiss you laid on me when I picked you up?” He teases.

“I’m a complex woman, I feel like you should know that by now,” you reply with a coy shrug, handing him his now stain free shirt.

The two of you finish your meals, chatting happily and making non-stop jokes about what a fail your date was. You’re relieved at how natural things are flowing; you knew there was undeniable chemistry but part of you was still nervous about getting used to being around each other - another person, even - again. But beyond the standard date jitters, things were comfortable and familiar.

Your anxiety briefly returns as he pulls the car into your driveway. Of course you want to invite him in, you’ve been waiting so long to invite him in but things just feel… off. You turn, ready to offer an apologetic goodnight but before you get a chance, he’s turning to look at you sheepishly.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this but would you mind if we maybe called it a night?” He rushes out, nervously running a hand through his hair. You watch him, fascinated. You’re still not used to how long his hair got in quarantine and you’re definitely not used to seeing him bashful. “I know we joked about it and I appreciate you being cool about everything but I really did want to give you the night out you deserve… and that just didn’t happen. I’d like to try again.”

Your heart swells at his sincerity; he’d always been so genuine and open over the phone, but it’s almost overwhelming experiencing it while he’s looking into your eyes. “Have I never told you that ketchup stains are one of my biggest turn ons?” You tease, hoping to ease some of his obvious embarrassment. “Hey, we’ve waited this long, what’s a little bit longer?”

A little bit longer ends up being the following weekend. It turns out, coming up with romantic and yet responsibly distanced date ideas is harder than either of you thought. With you both having the luxury of working from home and generally not having to venture out unless absolutely necessary, you both decide you’re most comfortable with eliminating the public out of the equation as much as you can.

You settle on a short hike followed by a picnic and when you open your front door you realize just how unprepared you are for the concept of Morning Ash. You smile to yourself as you realize that he must have overslept as his face is still adorably puffy from sleeping, hair still wet from the shower. Yesterday’s five o’clock shadow is still present - he must have been running so late he had to forego his morning shave. The thought of waking up next to him looking like this pops into your mind, that soon you could be the reason he’s running late in the morning and your stomach actually drops.

You push your thoughts aside as you move to greet him with a hug; his cologne is prominent and obviously freshly sprayed and you think to yourself that you're excited to smell like him for the rest of the day.

“Got a surprise for you in the car,” he murmurs.

You’re in the middle of wondering how he makes even a simple white t-shirt look devastating when he opens the passenger door for you. Before you even climb in, you’re instantly greeted by the smell of fresh coffee and breakfast burritos and he chuckles at the way your face lights up. 

“Flowers seemed too formal for a morning date, I figured caffeine and grease was just as nice.” 

“I’ve never felt more seen by a partner,” you smile, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a sweet, slow kiss. 

You start to pull away to get in the car but Ashton snakes his arms around you and draws you back in for a few more smooches. “Figure we should get as many of these in as we can now, those burritos are no joke,” he laughs.

It’s a bit of a drive to get to a hiking trail that seemed unlikely to be crowded but you don’t mind. After months of waiting to be in this man’s presence, the more time you can spend with him the better. The trip passes quickly, with the two of you basking in each other’s company, play-arguing over playlists and agreeing that “when this is all over” you should plan a road trip together.

“Looks like we’ve got the place to ourselves,” he observes, pulling the car into the empty lot. He’s first out of the car and you hear a distinct “UGH” from him as soon as he steps out. He sees your puzzled look through the windshield as he walks around to your side to open your door. “I didn’t expect it to be so fuckin’ hot,” he explains.

You get out and instantly scrunch up your face as a gust of hot wind breezes over you. “Well, we did travel more inland, I guess it makes sense it’d be a little warmer,” you reason. 

You commiserate about the weather and then Ash starts gathering your things from the trunk of the car, taking non-essentials out of your backpacks since the heat is going to make your hike a lot less leisurely than planned. 

Despite the weather, the first portion of your hike is nice: you stroll and talk, enjoying the scenery and your time together. Ashton brought his camera with him and you catch him sneaking a few photos of you along the trail so you teasingly start snapping an excessive amount of pics of him using your phone.

As you get closer to the area you planned on stopping at for lunch, the heat starts getting more and more intense. The morning clouds have now dissipated and the sun is bright and unrelenting, causing the conversation to drag as you both start breathing a little more labored, focusing on getting to your stopping point as quickly as possible. It takes a lot longer than expected and by the time you reach your picnic spot, you’re both exhausted and covered in sweat.

You spread a blanket on the ground and immediately throw yourself on it, grateful for a chance to rest. You look up and see Ash peeling off his t-shirt and draping it over a rock in hopes it will dry before you have to head back.

Normally you’d be silently reprimanding yourself for staring at his bare flesh on display but truthfully all you’re thinking about is how much skin he’s exposing to the sun. “Think we left the sunscreen in the car,” you declare, sitting up to dig through your stuff. “As much as I’m enjoying the show, you’re gonna get fried if you don’t throw that back on.”

He sprawls out on the blanket next to you. “We’re shaded, it’ll be fine,” he insists, pulling his sweat-soaked hair back with a rubber band from his wrist.

The picnic is pleasant but far from the romantic adventure you’d envisioned. You’d hoped the two of you would be laughing under a tree, eating a delicious meal as an equally delicious breeze grazes your skin. The reality is the two of you sitting in silence because you’re so uncomfortable under the unforgiving sunshine, eating food that you would’ve preserved better had you known about the weather, as a hot wind scorches your skin. The part of you that had fantasized about sneaking in a heated makeout can’t get enough of the irony that this date is definitely heated, just not in the way it should’ve been.

With the peak temperature of the day still to come, you agree to call it and head for the car already; Ash puts his shirt back on and you notice him wincing as he moves his obviously sunburned skin, but you choose to say nothing.

The trek back is quiet, both of you physically drained and a bit mentally defeated at yet another date gone awry. At one point, you stop in a shaded area to catch your breath and you give him a quick kiss. “Had fun,” you say quietly. He offers you a soft smile in return.

The drive home is equally lowkey, the discontent and exhaustion of the day filling where there should be sexual tension. He knows the mood has deflated considerably so he doesn’t even ask you to come back to his, he just drives you home. 

The car pulls into your driveway and you turn to him. “Think we’re cursed or something?” Your voice is joking but he can detect the undertone of worry.

Ash gives you a bright smile that’s instantly a comfort. “Nah… maybe cursed with too much ambition and insufficient planning skills but I have no doubt this is exactly where I’m meant to be.” He reaches for your hand, interlacing your fingers and kissing your knuckles.

He walks you to your door and gives you a long kiss that almost has you reconsidering inviting him in. “We got this,” he whispers. 

You ruffle his hair. “I’ve also got aloe you can borrow for these sunburns, how are you even able to move?” You laugh, unlocking your door.

A few days pass before either of you broach the subject of another date; you’re finally the one to bring it up and you both agree on a simple dinner at home for the next night.

“Third time’s a charm, right?” You joke as he opens the door.

He draws you in for a slow kiss as you step inside. You murmur when you feel his facial hair brush against you; his beard is fuller than when you last saw him and you suspect he may have quit shaving simply based on the reaction you’d had to the look on your date. “Well, we’re already off to a good start, I’d say,” he comments against your lips.

You’ve only ever seen Ashton’s house in the background of your video chats and when he notices you looking around with fascination, he excitedly offers to give you a tour. You swear you can actually hear your heart going pitter patter as he proudly escorts you around, sharing funny memories about his friends involving each room or telling elaborate stories about different trinkets he owns. You can tell he’s missed entertaining people in his home and you’re so happy that you’re able to fill that void for him tonight.

You follow him to the kitchen. “Smells amazing, must be quite the dish,” you tease, knowing full well you sent him the “secret” recipe for your grandma’s spaghetti sauce the night before. He pokes at you and you giggle, “Anything I can do to help?”

“The groceries should be delivered any minute,” he answers, checking his phone. “There’s gloves and sanitizer wipes under the sink if you don’t mind taking care of that when it arrives.”

A few minutes later, you peck his cheek as you pass by to go outside and tend to your assignment. Ash nearly spirals when it’s discovered that the shopper made some substitutions without asking but you reassure him that dinner’s not ruined even if the sauce uses regular sugar instead of brown and will be poured over fettuccine noodles instead of spaghetti. 

“Not to jinx anything but I think this is our best first date yet,” you joke after dinner, getting out two coffee mugs from the cabinet he’d directed you to.

“All we had to do was eliminate the variables: other people, the weather, the outside world in general,” he ticks off the list on his fingers with a smile.

You hit the brew button on the coffeemaker and slide closer to where he stands loading the dishwasher. “Well. Just proves that all we really need is each other,” you muse, with a sweet smile. He grins at you, drying his hands so that he can cradle your face and kiss you. His hands are soft from the soap he just used and you sigh approvingly into his mouth as his thumb draws circles on your cheek.

That flirty but sweet tone continues as you move to the living room; you sit on the couch, drinking your coffee, chatting comfortably. You both keep finding reasons to scoot closer together, a thick layer of tension between you. You’d each talked a big game when sharing fantasies about what your first time might be like but now that it might be here, you’re surprised by the hazy combination of excitement and nerves you feel.

It’s hard to say who makes the first move: there’s a lull in the conversation and then suddenly, a kiss. Ashton’s hands quickly make their way into your hair and before long, things get heated and you find yourself climbing into his lap to straddle him. This was about as far as things had gotten between you pre-quarantine and it’s as glorious as you remember.

You roll your hips above him and he groans into the mark he was leaving on your neck; your shirt rides up with your movements and his fingers softly dance over the exposed skin. As you nibble along his jaw, his hands find their way up the back of your shirt and you shiver at his warmth. You put your hands on his wrists, guiding them up, letting him know it’s OK to take your shirt off; he does and you silently thank your past self for wearing one of your pretty bras tonight. 

“So beautiful, baby,” he breathes and then his mouth is back on yours, hands busy exploring the new skin on display for him. You shift your hips again and this time find yourself the one to groan, feeling him hard beneath you for the first time; you’ve spent a lot of time wondering what this would feel like and it’s more intoxicating than you ever could’ve imagined.

Ash lifts you off his lap and lays you back on the couch, peeling his own shirt off before moving to be on top of you. He kisses you hungrily and then makes his way down your body, the scratch of his beard deliciously teasing you, lips pecking over every inch of your neck before they attach to the tops of your breasts.

You pull him back up to your mouth and slide your hands down to unbuckle his belt. You brush over his length through his jeans and nearly gasp at the contact; you know he’s not even fully hard and he feels huge. This revelation has you getting impatient and you attempt to push his pants down. "Jesus dude, are these painted on or what?" You joke, struggling.

 "Hey, I could ask you the same thing," he retorts, running his hands along your ass to prove his point. With a goofy smile, he asks, "Should we pause and de-pants ourselves?" 

You laugh as you untangle yourself from his body and pull your pants off while he does the same. He eyes your matching lace lingerie and teases, "That’s some mighty fancy underwear you've got on there, Miss ‘Let’s Take The Pressure Off And Not Expect Anything To Happen Tomorrow Night’.”

You feel your cheeks warming at both his gawking attention and his implication you were hoping things would end up this way. You playfully fire back, "Maybe I dress like this all the time, you don't know me… or maybe I wanted to feel sexy for myself tonight." You try to pull him into a kiss but he pulls back, looking at you with a raised eyebrow. "Or maybe I'm really behind on laundry and I only have the nice stuff left," you say with a sheepish giggle. 

“That I believe,” he laughs delightedly. "Whatever the reason, you look fucking incredible.”

You intend to murmur a thanks but the way his kisses are currently being  peppered in between your breasts causes it to come out as a moan instead. His fingers toy with the closure of your bra and he looks at you to softly ask, “May I?”

You nod enthusiastically and close your eyes as his mouth acquaints itself with your bare breasts, your hands tangling in his hair. Your mouths find each other again, tongues familiarizing themselves with every detail of each other. You reach between your bodies and grip the tent in his underwear; you trace the shape of him through the material and he breaks your kiss to let out a strained moan. “God, I can’t wait to make you cum,” you murmur, a bit surprised by your own boldness.

You feel Ash breathe deeply, affected by your words. “Well, I’m afraid I have a strict ‘ladies first’ policy in this house, so I clearly need to get started,” he jokes, attempting to steady himself. “Bedroom?”

He helps you off the couch and you start to reach for your discarded clothes but he pulls you along, shaking his head. “You won’t be needing those for a while,” he grins.

You follow him to his room, impressing yourself with how steady on your feet you are, how calm you feel; your heart is racing but it’s from anticipation instead of uncertainty, which is unusual for you when you’re about to sleep with someone new. You tend to make these decisions impulsively, with a bit of a “fuck now, ask questions later” attitude. The fact that you’ve waited for this long to be with him and that you feel totally at ease, wandering through his upstairs hallway in just your panties, is the latest in a series of signs telling you that your feelings for Ashton are different.

You settle on the bed while he pauses in the doorway, fiddling with the dimmer on the light switch, determined to get it just right. He finally comes over and you don’t waste any time, climbing over to the edge of the bed to pull off his boxers. His cock springs free and you bite your lip, hoping you’re not actually drooling like you fear you might be.

“You good?” He goads you with a smug smile. During a couple of your video romps, you’d gotten yourself off with toys and he teased you about your selections, calling you a size queen. As you find yourself fascinated surveying the notable length and girth in front of you, you have to admit, he’s not wrong.

You silence his remarks by leaning forward and tentatively licking his tip, closing your eyes in satisfaction when you taste a drop of precum. You roll your tongue around the head, tracing every curve and ridge with your tongue. When you get comfortable enough to wrap your lips around him and slowly start taking him into your mouth, he quietly breathes your name, brushing your hair out of your face, and you feel like you could cum right then and there.

He senses your eagerness and lets you work for a bit longer before he gently pulls you off with a heavy sigh. "Ladies first, remember?" He rasps, flashing you a dazzling smile that would've made you weak even if he wasn't naked in front of you.

He gestures for you to lay back as he kneels at the edge of the bed, dragging his beard across your thighs before hooking his thumbs in your panties to slowly pull them off. You close your eyes, a blissful, close-mouthed smile decorating your face. Ash groans, gazing up at you. “Do you have any idea how many times I laid in this bed picturing what it’d be like to have you here like this?” He asks, raising himself up to kiss you passionately. “Better than I ever could’ve imagined.” 

His lips travel back down your body and you’re so caught up in how dreamy it is to finally feel him like this, you don’t notice he’s already made it back down your body and you cry out when his tongue licks a bold stripe up your center. You’re almost certain you feel him smile against you, proud of the reaction he’s achieved. 

You run your hands through his long hair, trying your best not to tug at it too much, although you suspect he might enjoy that. He alternates between soft, fluttering licks at you and long, intentional strokes, using every centimeter of his wide tongue. It’s overwhelming but you breathe deeply, trying to maintain control; it’s when he wraps his lips around your clit and starts sucking that you start writhing, your legs involuntarily closing in around his head and you tap at him to get his attention.

He immediately pulls back. “Too much?” He reassuringly squeezes your ankle, looking at you encouragingly. “Tell me what you need, sweetheart, wanna do what I can to make you feel good.”

You sit up on your arms, lightheaded from both pleasure and his care. “Ash, oh my god, it feels amazing,” you insist, reaching out to brush his hair out of his eyes. “I just… I really wanna cum with you in me... and I can’t always go for two… and it was feeling so good right now…”

Ashton leans up, pausing your nervous rambling with a sweet kiss. “Hey, it’s all good, I’m glad you told me,” he soothes. “Do you want to go ahead or do you need more time? We can do something else to get you ready. Your call.” 

You grin and guide his hand to run along your wet folds. “I think this qualifies as ready, don’t you?” 

“Alright, cheeky girl,” he teases, casually lifting his fingers from your wetness to his mouth, tasting you on them. “Still, there’s lube in the left nightstand if you want to get it out just in case.”

“Gentlemanly offer and a brag at the same time, I’m into it,” you laugh.

He giggles loudly, moving off the bed. “Gotta grab the condoms,” he explains, leaving the room.

You retrieve the bottle of lube like he suggested and tidy the bed up a little bit, adjusting the pillows to make yourself comfortable. He’s gone for what feels like a long time but you chalk it up to your excitement for what’s about to happen. You sit back, surveying the room, making mental notes about different things you want to ask him about later. Finally, you hear him call your name from down the hall and you curiously holler back at him.

He pops his head in the room, looking mildly panicked. “Please tell me you saw a box of condoms in the groceries you put away,” he inquires breathlessly.

Your heart sinks. “Um… no? I didn’t,” you take a steadying breath, bracing yourself for what seems like very bad news. “It was mostly food. And the napkins we used. Toothpaste I put in the bathroom. No condoms.”

Ash inhales sharply, nodding rapidly, which unsettles you; he comes to sit on the edge of the bed and drags his hands over his face and through his hair. “Well. This is just never gonna fucking happen, I guess,” he declares dramatically. You feel weirdly exposed now that the mood has shifted and you reach for a blanket to cover yourself with before you crawl over to him.

You rest your head on his shoulder, letting him know you’re there. He smiles sadly and strokes over your hair. “I’m so sorry, baby. I hadn’t dated in a while and then with lockdown… I didn’t know until yesterday what I had was expired so I tossed them and ordered some today… and they’re just… not here,” he says regretfully.

You chew your lip, evaluating how you should respond; you’re disappointed, obviously - very disappointed - but Ashton is clearly upset with himself and you don’t want to make him feel any worse. “I suppose it’d be irresponsible of me to suggest we ignore this road block by employing the old ‘spray and pray’ method?” You joke… at least you think you’re joking.

He snorts, turning to look at you with a smile on his face, which makes you feel better about things. “I’m sure you’re not serious but no, after all this time, after we finally had the perfect date, no, I’m not going to pull out and ‘spray and pray,’ he chuckles.

You smile back at him. “Well,” you start flirtatiously, “I meant it when I said I couldn’t wait to make you cum.” Your fingers dance along his bare thigh, travelling close to his softened cock. “We can still fool around, if you want.”

He looks at you fondly, squeezing your hand on his leg. “I really don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

“Ash, as sweet as you are, this is an entirely selfish act on my part, I really just want you to moan for me,” you smirk, moving to sit back against the pillows. “Plus this is possibly the most turned on I’ve ever been and if I don’t get off soon, I might actually die.”

Grinning, he crawls up the bed and settles in next to you. “Well. Can’t have that, now can we?” He teases in a low voice, kissing you with an intoxicating restraint. “Got anything particular in mind?” He feels you sigh against him as he gets his mouth on your neck and his hand on your breast.

It takes you a second to find your voice again, still getting used to the novelty of being able to feel his touch. “To be honest, I wouldn’t mind getting my mouth back on you,” you confess with heavy breath. “Or we could just, you know, play with each other.” You slide your hand down to find his cock, lightly rubbing your fingertips up and down his shaft, feeling it start to rise for you again.

Ash groans and throws his arm around your shoulders, turning so that you’re cradled into his side. Your hand lazily drags over his length while he holds you, kissing you with a renewed intensity. The arm around you softly massages your shoulder while his free arm is exploring your body: palming your breasts, twirling your nipples, fingers caressing the rise and fall of your tummy. 

He breaks the kiss as his hand makes its way between your legs, tentatively brushing along your inner thigh, watching you closely as his fingers move to trace your lips and then your folds. He swirls through your wetness and then gently starts rubbing your clit; your hand instantly stills on him and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. 

“This feel alright?” He asks, studying your face. 

You take your free hand and place it on his, encouraging him to apply more pressure. “So good, Ash,” you murmur, raising your mouth to his again, eager to have his affection completely enveloping you.

You resume your motion on his cock, stroking him firmly, listening for the hitches in his breath or gentle grunts to tell you that your instincts of how to please him are correct. You try to recall what you can from the months you spent watching him touch himself online; you vividly remember him twisting over the tip while he used his other hand to cradle his balls. You give it a try and he lets out a loud moan, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

The two of you familiarize yourselves with each other’s bodies, savoring the noises you’re pulling from each other because although it’s not the first time you’ve ever heard them, it’s the first time they’re being caused by you. 

Ashton’s fingers tease along your entrance and you can’t breathe out a “Please” fast enough; he slides two fingers inside and starts thrusting. He starts with a moderate pace but you’re so worked up, you’re bucking against his hand almost immediately, overwhelmed at the thought of some part of him finally inside you.

You try your best to keep jerking him off but it’d be an understatement to say you’ve become distracted as his fingers move in you; you whisper an apology as you let go of him, starting to lose control, digging your nails into his bicep, whining at how you can feel it flex from the way he’s working your body. 

Ash can’t get enough of how receptive you are to him so when you mutter out another “Sorry” upon realizing how red the skin around his snake tattoo is from you holding on to him, he squeezes your shoulder in reassurance. “Listen, you can scratch that thing clean off if it means I’m making you feel that good,” he teases, nipping at your neck. “Are you as close as it sounds like you are?”

You’re sure your cheeks must already be flushed but you still feel them warm up at the implication that he recognizes your noises from quarantine. You nod, chest heaving, trying to catch your breath.

"Do you need something different to help you finish or keep this up?" He asks, understanding in his eyes.

You groan and jump as his fingers hit your spot again. "Um, actually I think I’d like if you went back to just my clit."

He nods, following your instructions. He rubs careful circles, checking your face to see if he’s getting the pressure right. You start to tuck your face into Ashton’s chest to minimize your reactions but he tenderly pulls you back to lay with him, stroking his hand through your hair to soothe you as he feels you start to shake in his arms. “God, you’re so fuckin’ beautiful like this,” he praises, sucking below your ear. “Let me hear you, baby, you always sound so good when you cum for me.”

His raspy affirmations work in perfect tandem with the vigorous movement of his fingers and you begin to unravel. You breathily cry out his name as your back rises off the bed and your hands fly out on either side of you, one gripping the sheets, the other grabbing for his arm again.

Your hips buck, riding the waves of pleasure surging through your body. Ash watches you carefully, continuing to work you until he detects a slight wince of overstimulation and he removes his hand, deciding to kiss you through the rest of your orgasm. 

Your body finally relaxes and while you’re definitely exhausted, you’re also eager to satisfy him in return. While he presses kisses over your face, whispering quiet praises as you settle, your hands move to explore his body again, one caressing at his chest and abs, the other taking hold of his cock, making good use of the precum he released while playing with you, starting to build momentum again.

He groans, closing his eyes, losing himself in your touch. You can't resist shifting slightly to travel down his body, pecking your way down his stomach, nibbling at his hips before moving your lips back to his cock. You suckle at the head and the throaty "Baby" you receive in return is already worth your trouble.

Ashton traces designs on your back while you suck him off; he constantly murmurs encouragement, which you appreciate because your heart is racing, this is the first time tonight you've felt truly nervous. You've always enjoyed giving head but you've fantasized about blowing Ash for so long you were slightly afraid it might not live up to expectations - for the both of you, since you'd shared many fantasies with him.

You try to pace yourself, not wanting to get greedy and take too much at once, using your hand to make up for what your mouth can't handle yet; every time you pull off to catch your breath and check in with him, he sweetly wipes at your mouth with his thumb and it's much cuter than it should be, considering the situation.

You bob along his shaft a few more times, fluttering your tongue along the underside, finding a particular vein you remember him paying special attention to. Your memory serves you correct and he emits a surprised whimper. He squeezes your shoulder a few times and you pull off curiously.

"Want your mouth on mine when I cum," he rasps.

You quickly reclaim your place laying in his arms, kissing him as requested. It’s just a few tugs until his breathing starts to stutter against your lips. "Fuck, yes, cum for me, Ash," you murmur, letting out a little moan yourself when you feel his cock throb in your hold.

Ash huffs out short belabored breaths as he moves his hand down to join yours, showing you how to work through his orgasm, adjusting slightly so that his cum shoots on to his own stomach instead of yours.

You lightly kiss him through it until he pulls your hand off of him, lacing his fingers in yours, squeezing briefly. You lay back in his arms, basking in the intimacy of the moment.

He pecks your forehead before he regrettably pulls away from you to gesture towards the tissue box on the bedside table. “Would you mind?”

You start to reach for it and then pause, deciding you’re comfortable enough to make a request. “Actually… could I…?” You trail off, raising your eyebrows as you steal a glance at his torso.  

Ashton chuckles out a surprised “OK” and then you’re quickly shuffling down his body to get your mouth on his cum covered skin. He breathes in sharply when he feels your warm breath on him and his stomach flutters under your tongue as you clean him up, blissfully humming as you discover his taste.

Your hair falls in your face and he brushes it out of the way, not wanting to miss a second of what you’re doing. When you’re finished, you sit up and daintily wipe your mouth with your fingertips. You catch a glimpse of Ash looking downright dazed, chest still heaving from his orgasm, eyes glazed over from watching you eagerly volunteer to lick up his release.

With the heat of the moment having passed, you start feeling slightly self-conscious about your boldness. “Was that over the top? I feel like that was too much for a first time, oh my god,” you laugh, hands covering your face nervously. “I just… on our calls, every time I would watch you cum, I would just… think about it…” You shake your head, surprised at your own behavior.

He laughs and reaches for you, kissing the top of your head as you lay against him. "Just the right amount of 'too much', trust me." His voice gets deeper as he leans in to whisper, “I’d thought about it too, for the record. As fuckin’ hot as I’d thought it’d be.”

You lay quietly wrapped up in him for a bit longer and when you move to get out of bed, he grabs your hand, squeezing it gently. “D’ya wanna stay tonight?” He asks, hazel eyes swimming with sweetness and sincerity. “I didn’t want to jinx it and get stuff for breakfast but I was thinking we could order in.”

You smile brightly, leaning in to peck his lips. “You can finally make me your famous coffee you’re always bragging about,” you tease.

“It’s disgusting, you’ll love it,” he grins, playfully pinching your ass as you get out of bed.

The next morning you wake up to the feeling of Ash climbing back into bed beside you. You open one eye and look him up and down suspiciously. “Where have you been?” You murmur.

He settles on his side, pulling you closer to him so your faces are inches from each other, at the edge of your respective pillows. “Ordered breakfast already, had to go unlock the front gate,” he explains, voice still thick with sleep. He strokes your hair and smiles at how you close your eyes, melting into his touch. “Sleep OK, baby?”

You feel your lips curl into a dreamy smile; you already knew you loved hearing him call you that but hearing it in his deep morning voice is fucking transcendent. “To be honest, it’s been so long since I slept next to someone, I wasn’t sure how it was gonna go at first,” you laugh, scooting closer. “You’re warm, though, which was nice.” 

“Well at least I have that going for me,” he jokes with a mock pout, which you promptly move in to kiss right off his face. You enjoy a sleepy, slow makeout for a few minutes and then he pulls away. 

He takes a deep breath before quietly saying, “Hey… I wanted to apologize for how I acted last night with the whole condom thing. I just got so frustrated because it seemed like we’d finally gotten it right… but that kind of negativity has no place in our relationship. Especially in a situation like that where you were feeling disappointed and vulnerable as well. So I’m sorry.”

“Ash,” you whisper softly. You take in the sight of him: long, dark curls darting out every which way from sleeping, scruffy beard you’re still certain he grew just for you, lips swollen from your kisses. His eyes are gorgeous as always but you can see the concern and remorse behind them and you feel like you can’t put him at ease soon enough. “You don’t have to apologize, it was disappointing and you don’t have to be Mr. Positivity 24/7 if you don’t feel like it. Not for me. I’d rather know how you’re really feeling.” 

“I guess I thought this would be easier. We’ve had so long to think about being together and to plan for it and it’s just been a constant let down,” he admits.

You chew your lip. “Well, listen. Last night still worked out? We still got to be intimate, I still got to experience waking up next to you. Sort of,” you tease. He cracks a smile and you couldn’t be more thankful. “But what you just said, maybe that’s part of the problem. Maybe because we had so much time to think about this, maybe we’ve built it up too much in our minds and we’re just setting ourselves up to be disappointed.”

He nods, mulling over your words. “Like the fantasy was important during lockdown but now it’s tripping us up. If we were in more normal circumstances, we would’ve just slept together without much thought.”

“You really think your game’s that good?” You joke and he pinches you in response. “You’re right, though, I haven’t thought this much about a first time since I was a virgin.”

“So we need to find a middle ground between this idealization we’ve invented and doing it just to get it over with,” he suggests.

“Exactly,” you peck his lips in encouragement. “At the end of the day, it’s just sex. I’ve been looking forward to being with you, not to some super romantic, candlelit lovemaking experience at the end of a dream date.” “Whenever it happens, it’ll be perfect because we’re perfect,” he smiles.

The two of you carry that mentality with you throughout the next couple weeks. You hang out, go on a couple dates and even end up having a spontaneous video sex session like old times. You still burn with desire nearly every time he’s near you but removing that looming pressure to set the mood really does help put you at ease with each other. You feel more connected than ever, like you’re able to focus on him now instead of the experience.

“The drive-ins are opened back up now,” Ashton mentions during your afternoon call. “Think you might wanna catch a movie tonight?”

“God, remember movies? That could be fun,” you agree.

“A buddy of mine went last weekend, opened up the hatchback, put a bunch of pillows down, made it nice and cozy. Thought I might ask if I could borrow his car… we could have a little picnic back there before the movie,” he proposes.

You smile to yourself, loving how excited he gets planning dates. “Better bring your comfiest hoodie for me to steal, we’re gonna get fuckin’ snuggly.”

Ash loves a good reveal so when he picks you up, he’s sure to walk you around the front of the car so you don’t peek in the back of the mini SUV. You have fun teasing him on the way there, adjusting the mirrors, exaggeratedly acting like you’re glancing over your shoulder; watching his eyes go wide and hearing his stern “Hey!” simply never gets old. 

Amused as he is by your game, Ashton knows how to tease you right back and when you arrive at the drive-in, before he gets out of the car to finish setting up, he offers you a kiss and a quiet warning of “Be good” that basically guarantees you’ll stay in your seat until he says otherwise.

After a few minutes, he finally calls you back there and you’re blown away at the elaborate transformation. He pops the hatchback up to reveal the back rows of seats have all been laid flat and a thin layer of memory foam lays across them, covered by piles and piles of blankets. Pillows of every shape and size adorn the setup, along with a small cooler and a tote of movie snacks. In the center of the makeshift bed is the pizza you picked up for dinner and two champagne flutes filled with your favorite soda.

“Ash,” you coo as you climb into the back of the car. “This is so fucking cute? You said your friend put some pillows down, not made an entire love nest back here.”

“Well, I may have embellished a little,” he chuckles modestly, following you inside. “One of our first hang outs was at a movie, so I thought our grand return should be special.” 

You grin as you serve pizza onto each of your plates. “That feels like that was a thousand years ago but I still remember the chill that ran down my spine every time you leaned over the armrest to whisper some comment about the movie.”

“Yeah? I remember being nervous because I couldn’t tell if you were aroused or annoyed, to be honest,” he laughs. 

“Oh it was definitely both at first. You talked a lot and I didn’t pay LA ticket prices to hear your commentary track,” you giggle, playfully shoving his shoulder as his jaw drops. “But then I decided I really liked how it felt to have you pay attention to me.”

“And of course what I was saying was clever and enlightening and added to your cinematic experience,” he adds on with a smirk.

You give him a tight-lipped smile, raising your eyebrows in exaggeratedly mocking agreement. He flicks your leg in response and you yelp, unable to keep from smiling at him. The two of you continue reminiscing and making easy conversation while you devour your pizza dinner. By the time you’re done, the sun is setting.

You lay back on the pillows you’ve propped up and watch intently as Ash gets rid of the pizza box at a nearby trash can. You’d both agreed that the dress code for tonight was ‘comfort’ and he went with a black t-shirt and an endearingly bizarre pair of lounge pants that feature a mountain landscape illustrated across the legs. Unsurprisingly, the t-shirt hugs his chest and biceps, drawing attention to the tattoos up and down his arms that you haven’t been able to keep your hands off of. What is surprising is how the loose pants still cling to his body in all the right ways - pulling across his thick thighs and ass, making you wonder if he’s keeping things in his pockets or if the bulging in front you’re seeing is all him. You squeeze your legs together, pleased that he’s almost back at the car, eager to feel him, even if it’s just for a snugged up movie date.

He flashes you a dazzling smile as he walks up to the car. “What’s got you all dreamy-eyed?” He teases, settling in next to you. You feel your breath hitch as he comfortably rests his hand on your bare thigh, toying with the hem of your lounge shorts, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

“Just happy to be here,” you shrug, leaning over to peck his bearded cheek.

He hums at your affection, leaning his head on your shoulder as he fiddles with his phone, pulling up a radio app so he can tune to the station that will be broadcasting the audio for your screen. “It’s kind of a deadzone out there, there’s only maybe 5 other cars,” he reports, reaching behind you to make sure the bluetooth speaker he’s connected to is on. “Even with all the distancing, we probably didn’t need to park all the way back here.”

“I like it… Gives the illusion you rented out the place just for me, makes me feel special,” you joke. He giggles and kisses your shoulder.

The first movie of your double feature starts a few minutes later and you couldn’t possibly enjoy it more. The two of you trade jokes and snacks; it’s all just so comfortable and lovely, unfiltered and natural.

During the intermission, you decide to get out and stretch a bit before the second film starts. You notice that when you feel Ashton’s eyes poring over you as you bend and twist, you only feel pride and desire, none of the nervousness or timidity you’d felt a few weeks ago.

Once the movie starts, you sit and try to patiently wait and see if he’s going to make a move but by the time the opening credits are over, you can’t help but advance things yourself. You scoot closer but his eyes remain trained on the screen; you decide to more explicitly ask for his attention by nuzzling your face into his neck, pressing a few light kisses behind his ear, scratching his beard with your nails. “I’m having a good time,” you whisper, feeling him grin under your touch. “This was such a great idea, I’m happy you suggested it.”

He slinks his arm around your waist, pulling you closer. “I’m so glad you like it,” he beams at you. “It’s fun to be out in the world again but also still pretty much alone.”

“Alone enough to do this,” you lilt, leaning in to plant your lips on his. Your kiss is gentle but urgent and he reciprocates your energy, cupping your face with one hand and using the other to press you against him, murmuring when you slide your tongue into his mouth. Just when things start to get heated, one of you pulls back and warmly smiles at the other, as if you’re both excited for more but still wanting to appreciate what’s happening in this moment.

You don’t want to disrupt the makeout but you can’t fight the craving you have to feel more of him; you’re finally able to pull yourself away and you lay down on the bed, patting the spot next to you in what you hope is an alluring manner.

He moves closer and you close your eyes, ready to feel his touch. You’re startled to instead hear a grunt of frustration and the shifting of a leather seat. Your eyes snap open and you see him straining to reach into the front seat, trying to reach the keys in the ignition. You’re half a second away from asking what the hell he’s doing when you hear a distant beep and the hatchback slowly begins to close at the end of the cabin. 

He plops himself on the pillow next to you. “Thought we could use a little more privacy,” he explains, grabbing a handful of your ass and using it to pull you closer. “Just in case someone else out there thinks the movie is as boring as we did.”

You start to giggle at his remark but your laughter is interrupted by his lips returning to yours. You both let your mouths and hands do as they please, exploring and enjoying without hesitation and without expectation. You’ve just peeled off his shirt and are sucking a mark at his collarbone when you feel his hand slip up your shirt to palm your breast. You give a light bite to his skin as his fingers pull at your nipple; he groans as you breathily tell him, “You can do it harder.”

A few dozen kisses later, his hand is sliding down your stomach and past the waistband of your shorts. You pull out of his kiss to whine quietly as his long fingers brush through your wetness, only touching your clit incidentally before adding light pressure. 

“Good?” Ashton checks with a smile as your head lulls back and you grab onto him.

“Oh, you know… ‘s alright I guess,” you joke, your attempt at being casual undermined by the way you’re basically grinding into his hand. You let out a long moan and he quickly brings his mouth back down to yours in an attempt to silence it.

As his fingers and lips drive you wild, you find your own hands reaching for his pants and you sigh into his mouth when you feel his cock hard and ready for you. You run your fingers across the straining fabric, teasing him with one hand while the other works to loosen the drawstring. 

You dip your hand inside and grip his cock, choking back a moan when you feel how much he’s already leaked for you. The slickness helps you easily begin stroking him and you shift so you can study his face, wanting to see evidence of the pleasure you’re giving him. As your thumb swipes over his tip and your fingers firmly squeeze his length, Ash’s eyes flutter shut and he bites his lip, quietly muttering your name under his breath.

His fingers slip inside you and you gasp as pumps them in and out, dragging them against your walls, teasing your spot. It’s an intense moment when your eyes lock as his fingers work inside of you while yours glide up and down his cock, the two of you breathing heavy as you basically fuck each other without fucking.

“Ash…” You start, voice wavering.

“Yeah,” he answers in strained agreement. “Do you want --”

“Yes, yes I do. I brought --”

“So did I.”

You break apart from each other and reach for your belongings, chuckling as he pulls a handful of condoms from his backpack and tosses them onto the bed at the same time you pull some from your purse and add them to the pile.

“Well it’s good to know we’re both the kind of people who can learn from their mistakes,” he laughs, pulling you into a delighted kiss. 

An exciting energy fills the car as you both shift around, getting yourselves situated. Ashton pulls back a layer of blankets from the seats in case you want to cover up and bursts out laughing when he turns around to see you’ve already stripped off your shorts and panties and are sitting there pantsless and unbothered.

“We’re parked in the back, there’s barely anyone here and the windows are fogged up,” you shrug, grinning.

You find yourself captivated as you watch him kick his pants off and get up on his knees, wrapping a hand around his cock, pumping it a few times before rolling a condom on. This is really happening. Finally, really happening.

“C’mere,” he breathes, reaching for you. You crawl to him and he cradles your face, kissing you softly. You nibble at his lip as you pull away and the two of you can’t stop smiling.

You climb into his lap, sitting on his legs, staring into his eyes. “Ready?” He asks you, sweetly rubbing your thighs. 

You nod eagerly and lift yourself up to hover over his cock. He slicks the tip through your folds, stopping to tease over your clit a few times and then he’s watching your face as he presses against your entrance. 

Your mouth drops open as you start to take him. He's so thick the stretch is instant, breathtaking and everything you've been dreaming of. His fingers gingerly brush over your hip, encouraging you as you ease him further inside you, rocking up and down until you're impossibly full.

Ash wraps his arms around you, kissing you deeply, hands in your hair then running down your back, then squeezing your ass. You feel completely surrounded by him and it’s overwhelming in the best way. You break the kiss to quickly peel your t-shirt off and then you’re reattaching your lips to his, pressing your chest against his, needing to feel as much of his skin on yours as you possibly can.

“Yes, baby, fuck” he murmurs as you slowly begin to move on his cock. “Feel so fuckin’ perfect… better than I’ve been imagining.”

You respond with a series of whimpers, so caught up in the feeling of finally having him in you. You move cautiously, almost torturously slow until you adjust to his size and then you pick up the pace, his hands firmly gripping your ass, helping you along.

You don’t even have the end goal of an orgasm in mind, you just can’t get enough of the new sensations his cock is making you feel. You shift from rocking to bouncing on him, moaning loudly each time his length hits a new place inside you.

“Ash… your cock feels so fucking good,” you pant, riding him with increasing speed, losing yourself in it. “Can’t believe you’re finally filling me up, baby… fuck.”

Your movements are bordering on frantic when you feel Ashton lightly squeeze your hips, attempting to still them, gently breathing your name. You slow down and look at him inquisitively. The mixture of amusement, desire and warmth painting his face is enough to make your pounding heart skip a beat.

“Can I?” He softly asks. You nod and he carefully pulls out of you and lays you back against the pillows before settling over you. He pecks over your neck and face as he guides himself back inside you. “Think we owe it to ourselves to slow down and live in this for a while.”

He starts to push up so he can get to work but you stop him, tucking his long hair behind his ear, stroking your hand over his beard. “You’re right, just feels so good,” you grin. “Hard not to get carried away.”

Ashton kisses over your palm and begins leisurely moving his hips. He keeps a moderate pace, steady enough that you’re feeling consistent pleasure, feeling something building in your core, but not so hurried that you’re aching to reach the finish line. You hook your leg around his hip and when he pushes it slightly back towards you, he slides in deeper and his groan blends with yours to form possibly the most gorgeous sound you’ve ever heard.

“Jesus, baby… pussy’s takin’ me so well,” he praises, voice sounding more wrecked than you expected. “Such a pretty, giving pussy, baby… what a good girl.”

You shiver at his words, your hands running up and down his back, feeling his muscles flex as he moves above you; you slide your hands down to grab his ass, pulling him closer, willing him even deeper. Ash reaches between your bodies to find your clit, teasing it with just the right amount of pressure to make you moan. The snap of his hips has become slightly quicker and you can tell by his breathing that he’s getting close.

“Ash… so good, yes,” you mumble, reaching down to direct his hand in the pattern you need. He mimics your movements expertly and you start rocking your hips along with him, feeling the stirrings of your climax. “Fuck, like that… god, please.”

“Yeah?” He pants, watching your body start to tense. He takes his free hand and reaches for yours, lacing your fingers, squeezing encouragingly. “Been waiting so long to feel you cum around my cock… come on, baby, cum.”

The first pulse of your orgasm hits you so forcefully you’re shocked he doesn’t react to how hard you squeeze his hand. By the time the next one hits, you’re crying out in senseless mutters from how heavenly this moment feels, how his thick cock couldn’t fit more perfectly inside you as you tighten around it. The sensations feel like they might echo forever as you start to come back down, Ash continuing to move gently in you, reassuring you in a soft voice about how incredible you feel around him.

You pull him down to kiss him breathlessly, satisfied from your orgasm but still hungry for his affection, still needing him on you. “Want you to cum for me, babe,” you whisper. “Let me know how much you love being buried in this pussy.”

Your words drive Ashton’s thrusts to become frenzied as he growls your name, followed by a raspy string of curses. He lets out a deep groan as he fills the condom, rocking into you deep and slow as he works through his climax. His head drops to burrow into your neck and you shiver at how his beard prickles your overstimulated skin. You stroke through his curls, lightly damp with sweat, and whisper in his ear, “So good, Ash… so fuckin’ good.”

He plants an exhausted but sweet kiss on you, only breaking it for you both to whine as he pulls out of you; he carefully ties off the condom while you reach for some of the leftover napkins from dinner to clean yourself up. You sort through each other’s clothes, the two of you grinning like fools the entire time you’re getting dressed.

Ash leans back against the pillows and sighs loudly, gesturing for you to come lay with him. You crawl toward him, making a small detour over the front seat to press the release on the hatchback again. You settle against him as the door opens, the cool night air filling the car again, the long forgotten movie still being projected in the distance.

“Worth the wait?” You tease, giving him a toothy smile.

He holds you tight to his chest. “Fuckin’ hell, baby… as much as we built it up, think we still might’ve undersold it. Like. Goddamn.”

You hum in agreement, closing your eyes, enjoying the afterglow. “I’m glad we just kind of let it happen. That’s probably the best first time I’ve ever had. Definitely the most comfortable.”

“Same. Easy but still just… perfect,” he says dreamily.

You play with his fingers, chuckling, “I was so comfortable I almost asked you to cum on me until I remembered we were fucking in your friend’s car.”

“I mean, it was already questionable for us to have gotten fully naked in his car, we might as well have gone all out,” Ashton laughs loudly, squeezing your hand. “I think Cal had a suspicion this might happen, he left breath mints, condoms and Clorox wipes in the glove compartment.” 

You cackle. “No blacklight, though?”

He pinches your leg and leans in to drown your laughter with a kiss. You gaze at him for a beat, marvelling at how normal everything feels for once. You notice he’s looking at you with a familiar fire in his eyes and you swear even though you were naked with him just a few minutes ago, you actually feel butterflies in your stomach.

You raise your eyebrows at him expectantly and Ash smirks. “Was just thinkin’ it’s for the best anyways. The first time I cover you in cum I don’t want it to be in a dark backseat, I want to be able to see it.”

You quietly groan, a naughty glint in your eye to match his. You sit up and plant a heated kiss on him, pulling away to murmur, “Well. It’s still early… my place or yours?”

————-

Thank you to everyone who signed up for my new taglist, both for the support and the lovely (occasionally hilarious) feedback! If you haven’t signed up yet, the form is linked above! (If your name is crossed out, please check your blog settings, I was unable to tag you)

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[phykios]

volcano kiss scene but make it medieval, for @perseannabeth 💙 note that this is little more than a fancy rewrite, but... marble king verse is too good to be done with completely

***🌊***🌊***🌊***

June, 1446

As Percy led his little band of adventurers through the tunnels of the Labyrinth, himself, his questing partner Ana Zabeta, his childhood companion Aegidius, and his half-brother, the cyclops Tison, following a marvelously clever creation of the god of fire, he allowed himself, for a brief moment, to feel a small sense of pride. They had finally located a deity who not only did not appear to have any negative designs on their characters, but had also promised them his help--after they had performed him a small favor, of course. 

Hephaestus had fashioned for them a little spider made of metal, who moved about as though it had a beating heart, darting this way and that, nearly invisible, were it not for their torchlight flickering off its shiny, shiny legs. Though he would never speak it aloud, Percy felt a particular kind of pride on Annabeth’s behalf, as she followed the eight-legged creature with neither complaint nor fear. He knew full well just how totally she detested the beasts, her eternal and forsworn enemies, just as their mother had been an enemy of Athena. 

They rounded a corner, moving from a passageway lined with a strange, shiny substance which felt cool to the touch to one of crudely-cut stone, when he spotted a tunnel off to the side, dug from raw earth, wrapped in thick roots which pried their way through the holes in the stones. Aegidius had noticed it as well, slowing his pace until he stopped entirely in front of the dark, gaping maw in the wall. “Aegidius,” Percy said, stopping as well. “What is it?”

It was as if he had not heard him. The satyr merely gazed into the black tunnel, his curly hair rustling in an impossible breeze.

“We cannot delay!” said Annabeth. “We must keep moving!”

“This is the way,” Aegidius muttered, hushed and reverent. “It is here.”

He couldn’t possibly mean… “The way to Pan?”

But Aegidius ignored him, turning instead to Tison, the creature whose very nature often rendered him speechless with fear. “Do you not smell it, too?”

“Yes,” said Tison. “Earth. The forest.”

Before them, the spider skittered further down the stone corridor. If they delayed any further, the trail would be lost to them. 

“Once we have finished our errand for Hephaestus,” said Annabeth, “then we can return for Pan, I swear it.”

“The tunnel will have gone by then,” said Aegidius, with a confidence Percy had rarely seen before. “A door such as this will not remain open for long--and I must enter it.”

“But,” she said, desperate, “the forges!”

He looked at her sadly, but firmly. “I cannot go with you this time, Annabeth.”

Percy had forgotten--Aegidius was not only his companion. He had been Annabeth’s as well. He had been responsible for seeing her safely over the magical boundary in Sigeion. But the spider was nearly out of sight, and they could not tarry any longer before the gateway to the god. “We will continue to the forges,” he decided. “Aegidius, you go on to seek Pan.”

“No!” she gasped. “It is far too dangerous. If we part ways, we might never find each other again! And I cannot let you go alone.”

It was then that Tison, gentle creature he was, put his hand on Aegidius’ shoulder. As much fear as satyrs held for cyclops, Tison, for some odd reason, held just as much, if not more, for the satyrs. They had made an amusing pair at times, two of the sweetest, kindest people Percy had ever known, cowering in fear at the other. But Tison showed no fear now. Now, he was brave. “I shall go with him.”

Percy could not believe his ears. “You will?”

He nodded. “The satyr needs help. We shall find the god of the wild--together.”

Aegidius took a deep, steadying breath. “I wish I could see this through to the end with you, but--”

“I understand,” said Percy. The search for Pan was his life’s goal, the final prize in a quest which had taken his father, his father’s father, and so many searchers before him. If he did not succeed on this journey, the Council of Cloven Elders would never give him another chance. “I pray that you are right.”

Shoulders square, suddenly possessed of a confidence Percy had rarely ever seen from him, save for when he deliberated on how keftedes paled in comparison to spanakopita, he grinned. “I know that I am.”

Percy took a heartbeat to gaze on him one last time, imprinting him in his memory--just in case. “Be careful,” he told him. Then, he looked towards Tison, and opened his arms to his half-brother, who went into them willingly, squeezing Percy so strongly his eyes just about burst from his sockets. 

Tison and Aegidius then disappeared into the darkness of the tree roots, lost to the wild. 

“This was a mistake,” said Annabeth, her voice trembling. “We should not have let them go.”

“We will see them again,” Percy replied, attempting to summon Aegidius’ confidence. “Now, come on. The spider will not wait for us any longer.”

“Do not remind me,” she said, shuddering.

Before very long, the tunnel grew warmer, the stone walls red and glowing. The air felt as though they were walking through a giant oven, as though they had been transported into one of the forges beneath the villa for Hephaestus’ children, and he supposed, in a way, that they had. The tunnel sloped down, deeper into the earth, the spider nearly tripping over itself to reach the bottom, Annabeth right behind it.

Percy jogged to catch up. “Annabeth!” he called. “A moment?”

She glanced back at him, but did not cease her quick pace, forcing Percy to match her. “Yes?”

“I have a… question,” he panted, “regarding what Hephaestus… said, about your mother.” 

“She swore never to marry,” Annabeth said, easily. Curses, Annabeth did not appear to be even remotely out of breath. He felt like such a fool compared to her, always. “She is one of the maiden goddesses, alongside Artemis and Hestia.”

Percy frowned. He had not recalled that detail about the war goddess--though, he was rather infamous for nodding off during lessons. Perhaps he had simply slept through that particular lesson. “But, if she is a maiden goddess, then--”

“How is it she came to have demigod children?”

Blushing, he nodded. 

Now, this was not at all appropriate conversation, he knew. Young boys and girls were not meant to discuss such things with each other--not yet anyway. But Percy was nearly a man, and besides, he had spent enough time with Carlos and the older boys at the agoge to pick up a few pieces of knowledge here or there. Hopefully, Annabeth would think the flush on his cheeks was due to the heat of the cavern. 

“Do you know how Athena was born?” she asked him. 

“She was born from… the head of Zeus? In armor?”

“Precisely. She was literally born from his thoughts--and thus, her children are born the same way. When Athena falls in love with a mortal partner, it is a purely intellectual affair, just as it was with Odysseus in the epic tales. Our mother says that it is the truest kind of love.”

“So,” said Percy, frowning. “Your father and Athena… you were not--”

“I was born from their minds,” she interrupted, quickly. “Sprung from the divine thoughts of my mother and the mortal ingenuity of my father. Her children are gifts, blessings on the mortals she favors.”

“But--”

She turned to him, exasperated. “Percy, the spider has nearly vanished. Do you really wish for me to explain the precise details of my birth?”

Flushing even harder, he snapped his jaw shut.

Victorious again, she smirked. “I thought not.”

Running ahead to catch their guide, Percy followed, very neatly put in his place, and not certain he would ever be able to look at his friend the same way ever again. Some things, he decided, were perhaps better left as mysteries.

After another few minutes or so, they emerged into a cavern, larger than any stadium Percy had ever seen. It felt to be five times the size of the mighty Colosseum. There was no floor, just miles of bubbling lava beneath their feet. Standing on a rock ride which encircled the cavern, Percy saw a complex, overlapping network of metal bridges spanning the width of it, meeting on a huge platform in the center which housed the largest anvil he had ever seen, a block of iron the size of a villa. Dark, strange shapes moved about them, like formless shadows, too far away to discern what manner of creature they might be. 

“We cannot sneak up on them,” said Percy, noting the distinct lack of places to hide with some despair. 

With a slight grimace, Annabeth picked up their metal guide, its form having changed to a small ball, and slipped it into a fold in her dress. “I can. Wait here.”

“Hang on--” But Percy was too late, as Annabeth put on her magical cap, a gift from her mother, and vanished from his sight. 

Percy cursed. He did not dare call after her, not willing to draw attention to her tactics, but nor did he appreciate the idea of her approaching the forge on her own. If those creatures could repel the likes of Hephaestus, what hope did Annabeth have? It was not safe. She was their leader--they could not risk her life. Percy would not risk her life. 

Alas, he could never sit still for very long. Creeping along the outer rim of the lake of molten rock, he darted from stalagmite to stalagmite as best he could, hoping to find a better vantage point. Really, Annabeth should have known better.

The heat was horrendous, heavy and oppressive. Drenched in sweat, and eyes stinging with smoke, he moved along, staying as far from the edge as was physically possible, until he found his way stopped by a large metal box, fitted on wheels. Peering inside, he saw it was full scrapped metal, bits and bobs of broken swords and lumpy shields, piled on top of one another. Nothing he could reasonably use for an extra weapon, or even some kind of defense. Making to squeeze himself around it, he suddenly heard from up ahead a voice, rough and grating, speaking an ancient language which no man alive had heard for a thousand years. 

Monsters, he knew. 

There was no time to run away, no place to hide… except for the box. Leaping inside, covering himself with a dented aspis, he curled his fingers around his father’s sword, that blade Anaklusmos, hissing as the sharp metal of his bed cut between the soft parts of his armor, biting his tongue so no curse could escape. 

With any luck, the monsters would pass him by, and he could continue along unmolested. 

That was when, of course, that the box lurched forward, pushed along by the monsters, carrying Percy along with it. Malaka! Was he about to be tipped into a smelting pot?

All around him, he heard the chatter of terrible beasts. He was not so skilled in the ancient tongue as Annabeth, but even he could recognize a few words here or there, “weapon” and “cyclopes” and “furnace,” and some names as well: Zena, hissed with scorn, Posidaota, spat with bile, and, most chillingly of all, Kronos, spoken with reverence and awe.

Percy blinked against the sudden light as his cover was removed from his person, revealing himself to the monster, who was so taken aback by his presence, that it blinked back at him in return. For a few moments, neither of them moved, so shocked were they by the other’s sudden appearance. Then, springing into action, Percy slashed upwards, dissolving the beast in a cloud of golden smoke. Snatching up another shield and leaping from his bed of spikes, he saw with his preternatural vision a small army of at least twenty monsters, black like dogs, but with sleek, shiny skin, and legs which looked to be more suited for swimming than scrambling around the rocks of Aitne.

With a hearty battle-cry and another wide swipe, he repelled the front row of these creatures, carving himself some space to jump, sprinting for the mouth of the tunnel. The monsters followed after him, baying and growling as a pack of ravenous wolves, and they would have caught him, tearing him to pieces, had they been but a little bit faster. Thinking quickly, at the top of the tunnel, Percy hurled his shield into a column, the rocks crumbling upon impact, burying the monsters and blocking off the path with a great, noisy cave-in. 

He doubted it would keep them trapped for very long. Not only that, he very much doubted that they had been the only monsters in the cavern. Percy had just announced his presence to anyone who might have been listening, destroying their chance for any sort of subtle reconnaissance.

And Annabeth was still out there, somewhere, invisible.

“Annabeth!” He yelled, running towards the platform at the center of the ocean of lava. “Annabe--!”

An invisible hand clamped over his mouth, wrestling him down behind a large, bronze cauldron. “Silence! Do you mean to have us killed?”

Arms flailing, he managed to locate her head, slipping off her cap of invisibility. She shimmered into view as an island emerging from the mist, scowling and covered in ash and grime. “It’s far too late for that,” he said, grimly. “I came upon a group of monsters, and brought the roof crashing down on them.”

Hissing curses, her hands clenched, as though she meant to strangle him, before she visibly managed to control her temper. “You said there were monsters?”

He nodded. “I know not what kind. I had thought they may have been dogs, were it not for their flippered feet and human hands, adorned with claws. They spoke of furnaces and weapons, making arms for the first Titanomachy.”

“Telkhines,” she gasped, eyes wide. “Of course! I should have known. I had wondered when I saw… well, look.” 

Together they peered over the lip of the cauldron. In the center of the platform stood four of these demons, larger than any Percy had seen before, standing at least the size of a fully grown man. Their black, scaly skin glistened in the light of the fire as they labored, sparks flying between mighty hammer strikes on a long piece of glowing, hot metal, hissing to each other in the ancient language. “What are they saying?” he whispered to her. If he could not understand them, Annabeth surely would. 

“They are talking of fusing metals,” she said, frowning. “Other than that, I--I cannot say.”

“Is that bad?”

She stared at him, incredulous. “The telkhines betrayed the gods,” she said, “for practicing dark magics. For their transgressions, Zeus banished them to Tartaros.”

“Alongside Kronos.”

She nodded. “We must return to Hephaestus at once--”

But no sooner had she spoken than a sharp, clawed hand pierced its way through the rubble of Percy’s cave-in, pushing aside the rocks which blocked its path, followed closely by its snout, teeth long and sharp and dripping with saliva. “You must return to the god,” Percy said, moving into a crouch. “Leave me here.”

“What?” she shrieked. “No! I will not leave you!”

At any other time, he would have praised her for her courage, but not now. “You must! Let me distract the monsters, and perhaps the spider can lead you back through the Labyrinth. You are the leader of this quest--you must take the message back to Hephaestus.”

“But you’ll be killed!”

“I’ll be fine,” he said, turning to face her. “As well, there is no other choice.”

She glared at him, her lips pulled back almost in a snarl worthy of one of the monsters. He knew this look of hers well--it was the one she wore whenever she considered hitting him for his foolishness. 

But rather than hit him, she did something which shocked him even more.

She grasped the collar of his tunic, pulled him close, and kissed him. “Be careful, phykios,” she murmured against his lips, breath hot. Then she put on her cap, and vanished. 

Percy couldn’t breathe, and not for the smoke. Had it not been for the lava, the monsters, the weapon, the quest, he would have been quite content to sit there all day, thinking of nothing but the softness of her mouth and the way her eyes sparkled in the firelight, unable to even recall his own name. 

A sea demon screamed, jolting him back into reality. 

The horde of monsters, freed from their prison, charged across the bridge towards him. Percy scrambled up from the ground, running for the middle of the platform, startling the large monsters so thoroughly that they dropped the red-hot blade over which they labored. It was as long as they were tall, curved like a crescent moon, its shape burning into his vision, sending shivers down his spine. 

Unfortunately for Percy, the monsters recovered quickly from their shock. Every which way he turned, his exit was blocked by a small army, surrounding him. Cutting him off. 

Raising Anaklusmos, he prayed that they could not see the blade shaking. 

“Son of Poseidon,” rasped a demon, speaking Percy’s own language now. “We are honored by your visit, fish-blood.” 

He spread his senses, casting about for an escape, but there was none. He was trapped. 

“Will you strike us down, half-blood?” asked another one. “An you try, the rest of us shall tear you to shreds.” Licking its lips, it advanced on him, claws glinting in the glow of the forge. “Perhaps we shall deliver you to your father in pieces--an omen of the horror we shall visit upon him, and all the rest of the twelve, for their betrayal.”

Annabeth would not have allowed herself to be cornered this way, but Percy was no strategist. If the gods favored him at all, they would have seen to Annabeth’s escape, leaving him to his doom. 

Was this to be his doom, he wondered? Trapped in the heart of a volcano, overrun by monsters which would use his bones to pick their teeth? 

The tallest of the demons plunged its hand into the furnace, scooping a handful of molten rock. “Let us see the might of Olympus,” it said, grinning. “Let us see how long it takes him to burn!” And it threw the lava at Percy.

Dropping his sword, he swatted at his clothes which had been set alight, as though he had merely had an unfortunate run-in with the lava trap at the agoge, but it was not nearly enough, the fire engulfing him with each passing second. At first, oddly, it had only felt warm, though it grew hotter and hotter with every heartbeat. 

“Your father’s nature protects you,” one monster sneered. “Makes you hard to burn. But not impossible, fish-blood. Not impossible.”

Later, Percy would struggle to remember the particulars. He would recall only the fire, and the pain. He would not remember how he crumpled to the floor in deepest agony, the sea demons howling in delight at his terror. 

Nor would he remember the voice of the naiad at the farm of the giant Geryon. The water is within me, she had said. 

Between waves of torment, there was a tugging sensation in his gut, calling vainly for water where there was none: not a river, nor a stream, nor even a petrified seashell. Percy called for the sea, the towering waves which could wash away villages, the currents which could destroy ships in a single blow, the endless power of the ocean, and he called for these things inside of himself, letting it loose in one terrible, horrible scream.

Fire and water collided, a typhoon of unearthly power shooting him up from the beating heart of Aitne on wings of superheated steam, peeling his skin away, another piece of flotsam flung from the earth by the force of the blast. Higher and higher he flew, further than Icarus, than Bellerophon, than Zeus himself, so high that the lord of the heavens would not be able to reach him--and then he fell, a shooting star, hurtling towards the sea which would not save him. Not this time.

[plush-rabbit]

Can I Ask You Something?

| Part  8 | 

“Okay, can you hear me?” You ask, tongue sticking out as you connect your headphones to the audio jack.

He nods, silent as his eyes flicker elsewhere outside of the screen.

“Tomura,” you whine, “come on, I wanted a video call so you could like talk to me.” You pout and lean back against the bed frame, pillows cushioning you from the hard wooden surface. “We can just message if you want,” you offer, shuffling in your spot.

“No. Just let me do this one thing. I can listen to you talk and game.” He’s quick to reply, eyes shooting towards you and his lips curve into a smirk. “It might surprise you but I can do two things at once. You don’t tell the most complicated stories.”

You gasp. “That is so mean! My stories are plenty entertaining and they are complex!”

“Forgetting details doesn’t make it complex… I mean, it does but it makes it hard to follow!”

“I will have you know that I have bad memory!” You give him a wide grin. “Plus, it isn’t like any of your stories are all that interesting.”

“Fuck off,” he snorts, mouth pulling into a grimace and the controller he holds comes to view for a quick second- his pinkies are lifted up and thumbs smash hard onto the buttons. Your own fingers jerk as you watch his actions.

“What game are you playing?” You ask, pulling open another tab and logging into your social media. “Anything you’re having trouble with anything? You know I’m always here to help.”

“It’s a stupid fucking horror game with a dumbass boss.” You hear glass break on his side of the screen and his eyes narrow, all attention on the screen in front of him. “I don’t need your help either.” He pauses. “You know that.”

“Yeah, yeah I do,” you murmur. “I just like offering it in case you do. That way I already have the information pulled up and-. Hey! Are you even listening?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He waves you off. “I told you I could do both at once.”

“Tomura, if you wanted to play your game, then why did you agree to a call? I wouldn’t have minded if you wanted some alone time.” Your own eyes glance at him before returning to the other tab where you scroll through your feed.

“No. I already told you to stay on the call,” he snaps, head turning to you. You blink back at him and he sighs. “Look, I just, I agreed to the call didn’t I? You wanted this and I wa- agreed to it.” The music that was background noise to the call has stopped. “Don’t you have anything to talk about?”

You swallow. “Oh? I thought my stories weren’t entertaining enough?” You give him a teasing smile.

The music returns. “I said they weren’t complex. You add the entertaining part.” He smiles and then his teeth are bared. “Oh fuck off!”

You jump at his yelling, lowering your head to your shoulders as your limbs remain tensed. “Well, I always have things to talk about.” You cross your arms in front of your chest. “It’s just that I want to talk to you too. And hold an actual conversation with you. You know, like back during our hang out.” You choose your words carefully, watching his reaction but he’s always been good at keeping his voice leveled and at keeping his reaction minimal because you get absolutely nothing from him.

“You want to keep asking questions?” You hear the video game music come to a pause, his focus completely on you and it makes your breath catch in your throat.

“I don’t know,” you groan, “no, not really. I want to talk to you. Tell me something about yourself Tomura… Are your roommates over?”

“No. Why?” He raises a brow line at you, and glances at his monitor.

“I was just wondering is all. I thought that if they were over then that was the reason that you didn’t want to talk.” You smack your lips and shrug. “Thought you’d get embarrassed and all.”

“I don’t get embarrassed,” he retorts, the video game music has resumed and his attention switches back to his monitor.

“You have to get embarrassed. Everyone does.”

“Not me.”

The corner of your lips twitch downward. “Not even when we met?”

You see his still for a brief second and his eyes glance over to you and he scowls. “No.” His scowl twists upwards into a smirk. “Were you?”

“Hm. I don’t think embarrassed is the right word,” you tap your chin, “maybe nervous? Yeah, nervous is the word.” You give him a curt nod.

“Why?” He grunts out, eyes narrowing and lips tugged downward.

You take in a sharp inhale through your nose and swallow nervously. “Be-” you voice breaks and you clear your throat- “Because I just was, I guess? It’s hard to put into words but- I mean, we hadn’t met before- like face to face- and I was scared when you came over. You like didn’t talk at all and I was scared I had just dragged a total stranger into my apartment. But we ended up having a good time and you got an umbrella out of it.”

“I am a stranger.” He doesn’t even bat an eye as he replies, his fingers retuning to smashing buttons as if that would help his character defend themself better. It leaves a weird feeling that you can’t quite place, is it hurt? Discomfort? Rejection? Whatever it is, it leaves you with a heavy feeling.

Your eyes glance around your room, feet jerking underneath the blankets. “No you aren’t. Maybe we don’t know everything about each other- which is fine,” you add quickly, “but you aren’t a stranger anymore Tomura. I know your name and you know mine. I know you like peach flavored gummies and you liked my blankets. I know there are some things you rather not talk about- like your quirk and stuff- and that even sharing your quirk side-effects was hard enough and I- I wanted to say that I appreciate you sharing that and everything else with me.” Teeth pinch your lower lip. “We’re not strangers Tomura- we’re friends.” You wait for his reply, stomach knotting and hands bumping the laptop underneath as you twist your shirt in your hands.

“Okay.” He says after a moment, voice flat.

“No. You have to say it too. You can’t just say ‘Okay.’” You lower your voice in a cheap imitation of his and your face feels warmer than usual. “Tomura, if you don’t say it, I’ll hang up,” you threaten.

He lets out a long sigh and glances at you, a tired expression written on his face. “Ok- Fine. We’re friends.” He groans when you raise your eyebrows. “Were not strangers- we’re friends.” His eyes meet yours for a brief second and they soften when the corner of your eyes wrinkle with your smile.

“I’m glad that’s settled.” You take in a breath. “That means we’re officially friends now.” Your eyes droop. “You know that right,” you speak softly, your face scrunching up and eyebrows knitting together. “Right?” You press.

You hear a few noises come from his side of the screen. You bite the inside of your cheeks when you notice how his eyes darken into something sinister, how his tongue is bitten between his teeth. “Is it that important for you to hear?” Tomura glances over to you and his eyes are lighter now as light flashes across his face.

You nod, never taking your eyes off of his. “I just need to know. It’s- You’re hard to read sometimes. And I would like to know where we stand. I uh—” you scratch your neck and your fingers freeze immediately— “I don’t like second guessing myself and the relationships I’m in,” you shrink in on yourself, “It isn’t a good feeling to have.”

He glances at you and when he dies in a fight on his game, he rolls his eyes and drags a hand down his face, ruffling his already unkempt hair. “Okay.” He smirks when you narrow your eyes at him. “We’re friends. Officially.” His smile is wide when you perk up, your lips curving into a coy smile.

“Well, I’m glad you agreed to it. It makes me feel better knowing that we’re friends.”

“Officially?” He teases.

You chuckle. “Yeah. Offically.”

It’s silent for a minute. He returns to his game, leaned back against his seat with a tight look on his face. You frown and tap your fingers against the edge of your laptop. You want to continue to talk about anything but no ideas come to mind, and you don’t want to bother him if he just wants to game. You want to offer that you two can talk again any other time but he did say he chose to agree to a call with you and you did want to talk to him. Sitting in silence isn’t a bad thing, you’ve sat in silence before and it wasn’t uncomfortable or anything, sure you worried that the others weren’t enjoying their time with you but he wanted you to stay on the call. You two can sit in silence and it’ll be fine. You can do literally anything else on your laptop while you listen to him give the occasional curse.

You run your eyes over him and pause when you reach his neck. Even with the flashing lights coming from his screen, you can see red welts appear on his neck, obscured by his hair and the lighting.

“You’re staring,” he spares a glance at you, frowning when you look away from him, your lips pulled into a line.

“Sorry,” you mumble. “I just noticed, your neck—” you point to your neck, finger grazing your neck gently— “it’s all red again. Is your quirk acting up?” You lick your lips. “You don’t have to answer but um, I did a bit of research about quirks that affect skin and I heard that moisturizing cream usually helps. And there’s—”

“You researched?”

“Should I not have?” You question, rubbing your thumb over the side of your index finger.

“What exactly did you research?” He asks, neck craning forward and eyes narrowing.

Your face flushes and you physically lean away from the screen as if fearing that he would crawl out of your screen. “Just about your neck or well skin to be more precise. I looked up irritated skin conditions because that’s what I thought it was and a lot of the forums and stuff just said to apply cream and a few other remedies but most people just recommended creams since it was a quick solution,” your voice trails off and you hug yourself, looking down at your lap. “I’m sorry, if you didn’t want that but,” you clear your throat and look up at him, finding yourself short on breath, “you know, we’re friends- officially- and I guess I wanted to help?” You shrug, wetting your lips with your tongue, hands fidgeting before they wrap around your water bottle.

“No, it’s fine.” His reply is curt. “Cream?”

You hold the water bottle in your hands, the bottle crackling under your pressing fingers. “Yeah! I read it’s usually fine with whatever cream as long as it’s for moisturizing or like hydrating. There are ones that say therapy and I heard those work better but they’re a bit pricey and I’m not sure about your budget and stuff. Plus those are the ones that you have to order online so who knows how long it’ll take to get there. So… yeah.”

You wait for his answer, fingers lifting from the bottle, scared to make a sound. He’s never silent for this long, always filling in the silence with a comment or urging you to continue to talk. You didn’t mean to research. You just thought that maybe since it was a tic and a side effect of his quirk, you could probably help in some way. But it’s the internet, there’s so much information out there, all available if you know how to get behind paywalls. You wanted to help. And now he’s silent and you’re too afraid to make a sound, your thumb circling around the edge of the cap, feeling the ridges underneath you. You never minded silence before, always enjoying it, savoring every second where you could just lay down and let your mind drift.

You inhale sharply when his nails meet his neck. It starts off as a light scratch, you could have argued that he was brushing his hair away from his neck, but then they tense and you see his Adam’s apple bob, and when they drag an inch down, they release from his skin. You look away and focus on his retreating hands. They’re much larger than yours. His fingers flex and seem to point upwards towards his neck. You don’t breathe as your eyes glance at his abused neck. It’s scarred and a light shade of red, almost pink but not quite. You didn’t want to stare at first, you wanted to void looking at his markings but now you have to. It’s a tainted fascination as you study his face.

His face is scarred as well. It’s something that you noticed when you first had the talk but you waved it off. He had long hair and the lighting he had wasn’t exactly the best but then when you met him, it was different. You were too focused on all of him to even focus on the little parts, too captivated by his entire presence, by his bright red lines and eyes to even get a good look at him, too scared to even meet his eyes and even now, you’re too scared, too fearful of what might happen when you do. But now as he stares into his monitor, face brightened by the flashing lights, you actually get a good look at him. You see the curved scars around his eyes, his face littered with them, covering only the top half of his skin but even then he has two very distinct scarring on his eye and lips. You feel bile rise in your throat when you wonder who or what could have made those.

But he’s still handsome. A small mole on the right underneath his lips. Long hair that reaches to his shoulders in layered clumps. Eyes that you compared to rubies and even if remembering that statement makes you flush, you wouldn’t take it back. They’re bright red, they remind of you rubies and of other, more sinister things when you linger too long on them.

“You’re staring again,” he croaks out.

You can feel your eyes water. “You didn’t reply… again.” You feel nauseous, your stomach twisting the longer you stare at him.

“I didn’t know you needed a reply,” he smiles through his words, teeth peeing out slightly and eyes that shine with playfulness.

“I like hearing you talk.” You really do, you need other people to talk to feel as if they enjoy your company. “You know that.” You don’t lie to him, you’ve been a lot of things before- felt a lot of things- and lying was one of the ones that always left a bitter taste within you, covering you in shivers and making you taste the bile in your stomach. “You’re scratching again. Is it your quirk?”

His eyes bore into you, narrowed and calculated. “You’ve been asking a lot about my quirk. Why?”

You pause for a second- eyes wide and then you blink and crack a smile. “I’m interested and worried Tomu. You may not realize it but you’re actually interesting to learn about. You keep yourself so guarded and everything kept a secret. Remember when you wouldn’t tell me your name and I had to call you your username from the game? You don’t have to tell me about your quirk, like ever, but I am worried that it’s causing you to react so much.”

“It isn’t just the quirk.” It’s harder to read him now.

“I know,” you smile, “but you don’t have to tell about your tic either if it’s something you don’t want to share.

“You’re too curious for your own good,” he huffs at you, humor laced in his voice.

“You know the saying, ‘curiosity killed the cat,’” you laugh nervously.

He gives you a questioning look. “Look, it isn’t a big deal. I’ve dealt with it for a while.”

“It doesn’t hurt?” He shrugs and you roll your eyes. “Well as long as you aren’t in pain or whatever, I won’t press anymore if it bothers you.”

The game noises start again and you can hear a faint blast. “How was your day?”

“I went to work and it was all right. I got a few rude customers but they just mostly complained about how long their order was taking or about me. I didn’t do much after. I just took home some sandwiches from work and ate one of them on the way home and when I got here I took a shower and was about to watch a movie when you messaged. And now we’re here.”

“Are the sandwiches good?”

“Oh my god, I love them!” You smile widely. “Not to be pretentious or anything, but the bread there is crisp and ugh, you can never go wrong with bread. Oh we add so much ham, like that bad boy can fit so much ham, you don’t even know!” You stick out your tongue with a grin on your lips.

He snorts and a smile waves onto his face, it trembles like he’s trying to hide it but ultimately fails. His shoulders shake and a grin breaks out, it’s toothy and wide and he covers his face with a hand and hunches over. “You’re so—” he snorts— “fucking dumb.” His laugh is sharp and cackle like. His smile is wide and he tries to stifle his laughter with his hand. “Fucking ham is what you’re excited about?”

“Hey,” you click your tongue at him, “ham is really good!”

“Fucking dumbass,” he snorts, little bits of giggles escaping him and for a second, he’s normal.

“Yeah, well, you’re friends with this dumbass.” You stick your tongue out at him. “Anyways, what—”

“Yeah,” he sighs, a gentle curve on his lips, “I am friends with a dumbass,” he glances at you and his soft smile turns to something different, “and you’re friends with me.”

Your leg twitches involuntarily. “Ha, yeah, I am.” You smile at him, and you look away from him. “Guess we’re stuck with each other,” you joke.

“Is that how you see it?” He asks, cocking his head to the side. You give him a wink accompanied by a smirk. He shakes his head and rolls his eye as he lets out a chuckle.

You’re filled with a warm feeling in your chest. You sometimes forget that he’s Tomura. You forget that he has a life outside of what he shares with you but when he smiles and laughs, you remember who he is. He’s Tomura. He has bright red eyes and a loud laugh. You don’t understand why he laughed so hard, but you won’t question it if you get to see this side of him. Your fingers inch to the FN and END keys. Your smile softens and gaze is focused on the light pink that dusts his cheeks. When he turns to you with eyes smiling and wide grin, he’s completely facing you when you press down simultaneously on the keys. As if a switch were flipped, you both stop and eyes are wide, your face burns with humiliation and suck in air through your teeth.

“What did you do?” He asks, confusion and anger mixed in his voice.

You fake cough and take a quick swig of your water bottle, trying to buy yourself some time. You give out another fake cough and avoid his gaze. “I uh- I just thought that you looked really nice smiling and I don’t have a picture of you and I’m sorry?” You give him an apologetic smile. “If it bothers you I can delete it?”

“Are you going to post it anywhere?” He asks, tone devoid of humor.

“No!” You answer quickly. “Of course not!” You pat your cheeks. “Listen I’ll delete it but I just really liked how you looked. You looked really handsome and I wanted to have a picture of you.” Your face burns and you want to hide yourself from him. “I just did it without thinking how you would feel. I’m sorry.”

“You wanted a picture of me?” He asks surprised.

You pull the blanket up to cover your lower face. “Can we please move on, I’ll delete it just ugh, can we move on?”

He smirks. “No, no. You took it without thinking?”

“Tomura,” you whine. “You don’t get to tease!” Despite your words, a smile grows on your face and the blanket falls down to cover your keyboard.

“You took the picture,” he conuters.

“Because you looked cute,” you laugh, shaking your head and running hand through your hair. “Look, do you want me to delete it?”

His smile falls and eyes glance around. “…No. It’s fine. Just don’t show it to anyone,” he speaks softly, his hands travelling to his neck.

“Tomura, you’re scratching his neck. Are you sure that it doesn’t bother you?”

He licks his lips and sighs. His head bends down and when he rises, he rolls his shoulders. “Just don’t show it to anyone,” he requests.

You nod quickly. “I promise I won’t!”

He leans back in his chair and blows a strand of hair away from his face. He cranes his head upwards. “Yeah, I know you won’t. I trust you,” he murmurs.

You inhale sharply and look at him with wide eyes. He’s refusing to stare at you, eyes focused on the ceiling above him.

You mouth unspoken words, eyebrows furrowing together. You nod to yourself and sink into the bed. “I trust you too.” Your stomach churns and gaze is soft. “You’re a good friend Tomura.” Your mouth has a faint taste of copper.

-

The screen is black for a few seconds before it returns to the a white screen flashing the call time and asking for you to review the app. You click the ‘Not Now’ option and you click on folder on the taskbar. You’re in the screenshot folder before you even realize it, eyes glazed over and you fix the window until it takes half of the screen. The open window peeks behind, your eyes move slowly to look at the tab the reader ‘Breaking News’ and slowly your mouse moves over to fix the window, resizing it and everything compresses to fit the screen. You click on the tab.

There, in a big picture that takes up most of the page is an alert from the time you went out with your friends- when you had gotten mixed up in a crowd that wanted to catch a glimpse of action between the heroes and the villains. There, right before the article starts, is a blurry picture of the League of Villains. Your stomach drops and your body is light and heavy all at once. It’s blurry, pixelated, there’s smoke obscuring and bad lighting, but it’s him.

You wished you didn’t recognize the so-called leader. You wish his eyes were a different color, that he was thinner or thicker, taller or shorter, you didn’t care what the difference was as long as you could kid yourself that it wasn’t him- that it wasn’t your friend. But it all adds up- the shade of his hair, the shade of his eyes, his scars, his everything.

Your eyes begin to sting with exhaustion, mind growing heavy. You run your thumb over the tips of your fingers, and even if you want to lie to yourself, to forget that you researched about his quirk and have it lead you down the rabbit hole, you can’t when he stares right back at you with a smile, when he’s Tomura. You can’t lie to yourself when a cold eye is captured and face is hidden by a hand. When you read the comments and people speculate about what a monster he is.

“He isn’t a monster,” you whisper, “he’s Tomura. A monster doesn’t like peach gummies.” Your eyes are wide and you close the tabs wincing as they disappear one by one. You close your laptop with shaky hands and shove it next to you.

Maybe you’re wrong but you know you’re not. You researched too much, looked up what people swore they saw underneath his mask- all commenting that he was a monster, others raising him that he was a savior, others insulting him and it made everything so much worse.

His hands are much larger than yours. You wonder what would’ve happened if you went in for a handshake when you first met. The thought makes you laugh, your shoulders bouncing and little breathy giggles fill the room that turn into chocked sobs and shaking shoulders with your face buried into your hands.

“Oh god, no, no,” you wail, curling in on yourself, eyes wide and vision blurry as tears drip from your face. “Please let me be wrong, please,” you plead to no one. Your arms go over your head, gripping and entangling your fingers in your hair. “It can’t be him. He’s Tomura,” your voice cracks and it’s getting harder to breathe. “He likes peach flavor- flavored things and- and he trusts me and he has a- a itchy neck and- and… Fuck.” You hiss out, shutting your eyes tight and whimpering when hot tears burn down the side of you cheeks. You clamp your hands around your mouth and stifle any broken sobs that escape. “Fuck.”

Tagged:

@rogueofbullshit

@loveableasshole

@yul-is-sparkling

@noonewouldlisten25

@noodlenerd101

@localdisaster

@snackgod

@iikillerkitteh

@ drapetomaniaac

@shigaraki-is-my-master

@rekoii

@ txmaki0

@ katelyn-cuteson

@ justoneofthosepeople

[artisticflutter]

Winter

It’s the faaabulous time of year again where we post for @mlsecretsanta~ And this year, my giftee is @coffeegrindsandautumnbreezes who wanted something sweet and Juleka-centric. Please enjoy~

Rating: General Audiences Genre: Friendship, Family Bonding, Slice of life Pairing(s): None Summary: Juleka has some introspective while filling in on a re-shoot for Gabriel. Warning: Minor mentions of “Reflekdoll”, beta’d by PocketNoivern

“Are you sure about this Juleka? I’d understand if you’re not comfortable.”

“No, it’s alright. I offered to do this.”

A nod, but her mouth thinned all the same. Peridot eyes twinkled however, and he smiled so easily.

“Okay, but tell me if you ever start feeling overwhelmed at all?”

“Mmm… thanks Adrien.”

He really was too kind; Juleka was grateful for his friendship and she could see why Marinette’s infatuation with him remained after so long. Of course, she was - in general - grateful to both of them for this opportunity at all. It had been Marinette’s suggestion that he ask her about modeling again (she wondered if it was to make up for last time, but really, that hadn’t been Marinette’s fault). It’s possible Marinette knew she had needed the extra euro and what’s more, it would be experience for her resumé. She intended on thanking them both properly when she could and the opportunity to hang out with a friend that could probably do with the change of pace himself.

Well, if helping her again was a change for him. Considering the circumstance, it probably wasn’t. After all, someone as patient as Adrien should’ve been able to work with someone as flexible as Lila, but therein was the reason for the winter re-shoot and Juleka getting this break at all. 

She’d think about the details later, and instead, try to focus on posing.

Her usual make-up? Removed and replaced with natural tones. She herself provided enough contrast to the neutral, but brighter and warmer tones of the winter attire she had to wear. There was also a matter of the location - the Pont Alexandre III blocked off just for this. The purpose today was to accentuate warmth in the cold, first a series of solo shots and then a few couple poses - the idealistic and romantic comfort when the temperature dropped. She’d done similar shoots with him before - maybe that’s why Marinette suggested her first? No, part of her tone had still sounded apologetic.

So far, it was going well; or at least, she was satisfying Vincent’s demands, but then everyone seemed to tense when Vincent called for Adrien to join her.

“Are they expecting an akuma?” she asked when he stood next to her.

He shot her a sheepish look. “Ah… yes and no? These days, they’re always worried about an akuma delaying us, but… er, Lila wasn’t following directions when we got to this part. I’d say that’s pretty standard considering how often I have to work with her now.”

“Oh… that’s weird.”

Lila being unprofessional? That didn’t sound right, but if Adrien was saying that… Then perhaps her perception wasn’t as off as she thought.

“Yes! Warm couple, show me winter love! That… cold hot passion! Close, but no! Shy, waiting to bloom! Perfetto!”

“I think I get it…” Juleka mumbled, taking hold of Adrien’s hand, but looking down.

“Really? Most people don’t.”

She heard the shutter going off.

“When you take a walk in winter with someone, you’re close, but not too close,” Juleka started, pausing as they changed poses. “You’re enjoying the cold and the quiet with company instead of talking in the sun and warmth. You think about the return home together, sitting by a fire, or wrapping up in a blanket and don’t linger...”

“Yeah, that’s right…!” Adrien paused as they stood close together, huddled with her shoulder to his arm as they both ducked their heads and pretended to be caught in a sudden snowfall. “It’s definitely a more restrained display of love outside during winter that’s not just limited to romantic couples. You think about things like this a lot, don’t you Juleka?”

“... Maybe.”

She wasn’t asked about her opinions or thoughts all that often, and she knew it had much to do with the way she dressed and musical tastes. Not that she’d ever say it out loud, but she was a bit of a romantic and had her interests that seemed counter to her rock lifestyle. For example, she would rather write poetry than music lyrics, and this too, she wanted to model instead of play music. There was plenty still that she didn’t grasp, but to try understanding more complex feelings she didn’t fully comprehend, she observed people, thought plenty about moments in time, and the experience they must have in that instant. As well, she could look at couples and visualize their connections almost. Perhaps it wasn’t the same as how her brother could hear people’s heart songs, but she’d like to think she had enough sense. 

Like in this moment, Adrien came off to her as ‘ease’ and ‘comfortable’, contrasting how stressed he’d been growing at school - or perhaps, it was better to say he was becoming stressed at life. It was unfortunate; she didn’t think she was the person to ask him about it. Hopefully Nino or Marinette would notice.

“Now, Juleka, you are winter blossom. I need… yes! Smile, just like that! Yes, yes!”

It was just a subtle expression she was giving the camera, but she did wonder how it did look on his end. She couldn’t see Adrien’s expression either, but it still felt like he was enjoying himself. Good; she was happy to know he didn’t mind her company.

A few more shots and a few more poses (the closest to uncomfortable was a small cheek kiss, but it was only one shot) had Vincent snapping up to a straight spine stand and lowering his camera.

“That! Was magnifico! I need her for more shoots, Adrien! You bring her again!”

“If that’s alright with her. She’s not officially contracted, but if you tell my father…”

“Ah, yes! I will have a word with Nathalie!”

Vincent was off in a shot while Juleka remained standing, watching the crew begin to remove the extra lighting that had been set up in assumption they’d continue longer. She accepted Adrien’s hand when extended her way and his escort back to the dressing tent. He looked, and felt, so elated that Juleka couldn’t keep herself from smiling back as he spoke, “That was great, Juleka! One of the best shoots we’ve had! I wish we could’ve talked more, but I hope Luka likes his gift.”

“Thank you, Adrien. And I know he will.”

Even if he managed to get a new one already, but that would just mean having two instead of none. “I had fun too. If you need me to fill in again, or if Vincent insists on that next shoot, just ask.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Letting go of her hand, he waved as he retreated to his own dressing tent. Meanwhile, she stood and stared, considering many things about the energy now exuding from him and how it proceeded to dim. How curious, but again, she wasn’t close enough to ask for details. She wouldn’t mind getting close in the future, especially if working together might become common; he seemed like the person who’d appreciate more friends and she rather liked having brighter personalities around. 

Turning, she was in and out of her tent in moments, taking particular care to make sure the designer clothes were hung properly before stepping back out. There, the make-up artist handed her the agreed pay for the late-minute fill-in - there was more than originally negotiated. However, glancing up, there she saw Adrien peering around Nathalie as she spoke to Vincent. He grinned, waving slightly again, and mouthed ‘Joyeux Noel’. Of course she mouthed ‘Joyeux Noel’ back before heading on her way.

Down the ways towards Champs-Élysées, Luka was waiting for her to arrive having stayed to watch her and walk with her home. He could’ve at least gone and waited inside a cafe to keep warm, but no. Hopefully his fingers weren’t cold considering his fingerless gloves, but knowing him, he’d probably lost track of time strumming his guitar. Stopping as she approached and raising his head, he beamed brightly. “Hey Jules… Sounds like you had fun. Did Adrien treat you well?”

“Mmm, he made sure I was comfortable, and if I had any issues, he was ready to help,” she answered, knowing that her brother already knew.

“His heart is still suppressing its true ballad. I’m glad things went well,” he said, packing his guitar back into its case. Standing up, he slung it over his shoulder and nodded. “Ready to head home, or do you have any other stops to make?”

“... Not right now. Let’s walk home, it looks like it will really snow soon.”

“Yeah, that’s true… Ah, wait.”

He turned to the railing and picked up two to-go mugs, turning back to her with a grin as he held one out. “Mom will likely have something bigger, but cheers to a successful shoot. One step closer to the dream.”

“Thanks, Luka…”

Accepting her cup, it was still warm between both hands. Then, he had gone to a cafe moments before - ah, he’d called when they would be wrapping up. One day, she’d like to be that intuitive and thoughtful. For now, she walked alongside him in comfortable silence, enjoying the wafted aroma of vanilla and chai, and making plans on getting him that pedal tuner she spotted in the music store. After that… the best Merry Christmas thank yous she could think of.

[jewish-space-laser]

Snowed In, Locked Out

Hello beautiful people! This is a repost of a story I wrote back in 2018. I deleted my original blog (she-guitar-solo) a couple months ago, but I’ve decided to try coming back! I’ll be reposting the rest of my writing today and tomorrow. Feel free to leave feedback, it’s always very much appreciated! 8.5k words

xxx Tile

Even bundled up with layers of thick clothing, a cup of steaming tea, and three blankets, Rosie was sure she had never been colder. It had started with a severe weather alert on the news, and had ended in a power outage and four feet of snow, which meant that her heat wasn’t working, and every flat surface in her disorganized studio apartment was covered in candles. It looked nice, but the plethora of scents from the candles were giving her a headache and she couldn’t remember the last time she felt her toes.  

She had tried to watch her weekly soaps on her laptop, but it quickly died, leaving her with a blank screen and an annoyed eye roll. Next, she’d dragged her puppy, Buddy, out into the snow for what was meant to be a quick walk, but ended up taking well over an hour due to his excited prancing and rolling. It was his first snowfall, and he was having a ball playing in the large piles that had already started to form along the sidewalk. It took an extra ten minutes to dry him off completely once Rosie got him back inside.

She hoped that this would be the worst of the bad weather. It was out of character for London to have a snowstorm this large. Ideally, it would all melt by the end of the month, and things would go back to normal. She didn’t know how much more of this she could handle.

Now, Buddy was curled up at the foot of the twin bed as Rosie cocooned herself so only her face was exposed. Having grown up in a warmer climate, she was a self-proclaimed wimp when it came to cold weather.

“This is basically hell, Buddy,” she told her puppy, who gave no indication that he’d heard her apart from a slight ear twitch. She nudged him gently with her foot, and he lifted his head slowly, giving Rosie a bleary glare before lowering his chin back to his paws. “You’re so lucky you have a built in coat.”

And that’s how the evening continued. Rosie would tug the blankets tighter around herself and tell Buddy about her plans to stay warm. Should she invest in a battery-powered space heater? No way, you’re right Bud, those are a huge fire hazard. It was starting to smell awfully strange due to the mix of scented candles, should she stand up and blow some of them out? Maybe if it wasn’t so cold, there’s no way these blankets are moving. When the power turns back on, she’s going to take a scalding hot shower. After we go for another hour-long walk, of course…

After a while of this, Rosie was running out of things to think about. Buddy had clearly fallen asleep. Just as she willed herself to stand up and fetch a novel from the tower of books teetering on her desk, there was a firm knock on the door, which of course, set Buddy into a frenzy. He jumped up from his place and raced towards the sound, hopping around on the welcome mat out of sheer excitement.  

As soon as Rosie unlatched the lock, the person on the other side twisted the handle and let themselves in, forcing her to take a quick leap backwards to dodge the door. She watched as Harry pulled the beanie off of his head, shucked his jacket off his shoulders and onto the ground, and toed off his boots. There was a growing puddle of muddy snow next to his pile of winter gear.

“Bloody freezing out!” He exclaimed, “This is meant to be London, not the fucking North Pole.”

Rosie watched with crossed arms as he stooped down to pat Buddy before glancing up at her with a swoon-worthy smile. She almost wanted to scream at him for shoving his way into her space, but she couldn’t do that, not when she hadn’t seen him in nearly four months and he looked good enough to eat in his skinny jeans.

He stood up slowly, giving Buddy one last pet on the rump before opening his arms wide. Rosie beamed at him, not hesitating to walk into his embrace.

“Hey, Ro,” he had dug his face into her hair, so his voice was muffled, but it sounded like heaven to her. “It’s so, so good to see you.”

“Harry,” she gleefully cheered, “I didn’t even know you were back in town!”

“Got in late last night,” he explained, moving his face away but not releasing her from his hold. “Was gonna stop by later on this week to say hey, but then…” he trailed off, sucking his lips into his mouth and hanging his head.

“Let me guess,” she stepped back, placing a hand on her hip. Harry’s arms swung loosely back to his sides. “You’ve locked yourself out again?”

Harry Styles had been her next-door neighbor since she moved into the complex two years prior, and had immediately welcomed her with a handmade card and a bottle of sparkling grape juice (“was gonna buy wine, but wasn’t sure if you drank alcohol or not, didn’t want to assume”). He had made it his mission to make her feel at home, and despite only spending a few months out of the year in London, he made sure to always drop by with sparkling grape juice and frozen TV dinners for lighting round catch-up sessions whenever he happened to be in town. It had become their little tradition.

He also had a tendency to lock himself out of his flat, a nasty habit that forced him to seek refuge at hers while he waited for the landlord to come on site. Harry had to be one of the most scatterbrained, forgetful men Rosie had ever met in her life. If they weren’t friends, she’d be annoyed, but it was impossible not be endeared by Harry.

“Locked my entire set of keys in my car, only realized once I got inside,” he confirmed, at least having the decency to look sheepish. “Called somebody to try and get it unlocked, but they said they couldn’t get here until the roads are plowed.”

“Harry!” Rosie groaned, “The plows won’t be out until tomorrow morning, at the earliest!”

Before the power had cut out, the news channel had mentioned something about the blizzard raging through the night. It was one of the worst snow storms that London had seen in years.

“You really think it’ll take that long?” He asked incredulously, digging a hand into the back pocket of his jeans.

“Before the power went out, I was watching the news, and it looks like the city is pretty much on lockdown until the snow stops,” Rosie patted Harry’s shoulder sympathetically. “It’s supposed to go all night.”

“Well shit,” he laughed humorlessly, “think it’s too late for a hotel reservation?”

“I’m sure there’s something still available,” she reasoned, digging her cell phone from her pocket to check where the nearest vacancy was. Just as she found something closeby, Harry let out a soft expletive from where he stood. When she looked over at him, he was patting down his pockets helplessly.

“I’ve locked my wallet in my car, too,” he moaned. “I’m officially fucked.”

“Oh, H,” Rosie sighed. She gave her ratty couch a quick side-eye. She had bought it secondhand from a stranger on craigslist when she moved in, and even though a few springs were loose and the fabric was scratchy and threadbare, it was plush and large enough to take up the majority of her living room. Her flat definitely wasn’t big enough to share with another person, but poor Harry was absolutely stranded. “I suppose… you could take my couch, just for the night? I know you’ve been travelling a lot and probably want a nice bed, but that’s all I’ve got.”

“I… don’t want to impose,” he said, though his eyes brightened at her offer.

“You’re not,” she assured him. “I’m not going to kick you out into the cold with nowhere to go.”

“You’re absolutely sure?” He pressed. “I can call for a ride.”

“Nonsense,” Rosie waved him off, turning around to grab some extra blankets from the closet. “I’ll just set up the couch, it’s really no bother. It definitely won’t be comfortable, but I don’t want you, or anybody else for that matter, out on the roads. It’s too slippery to be driving.”

Harry’s shoulders sagged in relief. “I owe you one, Ro. You’re the fucking best.”

“You say that every time,” Rosie reminded him, setting the pile of fuzzy blankets onto the arm of the couch for him.

“Well, that’s because it’s true,” he stated matter-of-factly, walking over to wrap an arm around her shoulders. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, H,” she smiled, “It’s been so long.”

Harry sat himself down onto the couch, pulling Rosie with him so that they could talk properly. Buddy, still reeling from having a new person in his space, hopped up onto the couch and set his front paws in Harry’s lap.

“Yeah, it really has,” Harry breathed with a faraway look in his eyes. “When’s the last time I saw you, then? September?”

“I think so,” Rosie nodded her head, feigning indifference. The truth was, she had been counting down the days until he made a visit to London, checking the hallway and mailroom for any sign he’d been home.

“I’ve been so busy,” he informed her, raking his fingers through Buddy’s fur.

“Have you?” He nodded his confirmation. “Tell me about everything you’ve been doing.”  

This was one of her favorite parts about hanging out with Harry. Even though it only happened every once in a while, he’d always return home with the most amazing stories to tell her. It was worth the wait to see his eyes light up when he talked about recording his second album in Tokyo. His excitement was contagious when he told her about his last night of tour, when the crowd begged him to sing Kiwi three times. She rubbed his arm comfortingly when he spoke of how he missed his family, and even with his new cat, Evie, in LA, he still felt lonely often.

“But that’s enough about me,” he leaned back further into the couch. He had just finished telling Rosie a very detailed count of the moment he won the tour ping-pong tournament, a victory that had apparently required him to remove all of his clothing backstage. “I want to hear about you.”

“Oh,” Rosie hummed. “Well, I got that promotion at work I’d been trying for!”

“Hey!” Harry beamed, wrapping an arm over her shoulders. “That’s amazing, Ro! Congrats.”

“Thanks,” she preened. “But other than that, not much else has been happening.”

“Waiting for me to come home?” He smirked.

“Stop flirting with me,” she warned, pushing his arm off of her as he cackled. She was grateful that he couldn’t feel how sweaty her hands had gotten from just one silly comment. If only he knew how right he was.

“Sorry,” he shrugged, not sounding sorry in the slightest.

Rosie playfully rolled her eyes, tucking her feet under her bottom for warmth. Even with the woolen socks she’d put on, the cold was a bit numbing.

“So, what are we doing tonight?” Harry asked.

“I don’t really know,” she admitted. “Obviously the power is out, so that narrows down our options.”

The pair sat quietly for a few moments, pondering the different activities they could find in Rosie’s shoebox apartment.

“We could watch a movie,” Harry finally suggested.

“I would love that,” Rosie started, “but my laptop battery is dead, and yours is locked in your flat.”

“Why don’t we just watch on my phone?” He pressed. “I mean, it’ll be a small screen but it’s better than doing nothing. I have a portable charger in my jacket, too.”

Rosie’s eyes lit up at the suggestion. She stood up from the cushion and straightened out the sweater she was wearing. “Let’s do that, then. Here, you stay there, I’ll grab your charger.”

“No!” Harry shouted, launching himself off of the couch. “I’ll… I’ll get it. Why don’t you dig around the kitchen for snacks or something?”

“Um, alright,” she furrowed her eyebrows at him. He ignored her, reaching into his jacket pocket carefully before pulling out a tangled cord. “What kinds of snacks are you in the mood for? I don’t have much….”

“Anything’s fine,” he muttered. He had thrown his coat back onto her floor, and was now focused on getting his phone plugged in. “If you’ve got anything alcoholic, bring that, too.”

Rosie brushed off his odd behavior, shuffling off towards her kitchen. She was able to find some crackers that weren’t stale, and a container of Oreo’s that still had a sleeve and a half left. She skimmed her eyes over the liquor cabinet briefly, but there was nothing that would taste good without a mixer, so she let it be.

“Okay, which do you want first?” She asked, holding the snacks in each of her hands. Harry glanced up, scrunching his mouth in thought before pointing at the Oreo’s. Rosie pouted slightly, handing him the package. That’s the one she was hoping to start with.

“No drinks?” he asked, tilting his head slightly.

“Nothing good,” she told him.

“Hmm… bet I could find something.” He stated confidently, sliding his socked feet over to the kitchen. He pulled open her refrigerator, immediately reaching in to grab something. “You have wine in your fridge! Two bottles!”

“Yes, but it’s cold,” Rosie pointed out. “We’ll feel colder if we drink it.”

“Well, if we drink enough, we’ll feel warm,” Harry smiled, already pulling open her drawers in search of a corkscrew.

“I suppose you’re right,” she nodded, following him into the kitchen to fetch the wine glasses from the cabinets.

Harry found the corkscrew on the second drawer he opened, which wasn’t a surprise. He had been over often enough to know his way around Rosie’s place, even if it was just for a few hours at a time. It wasn’t difficult considering her flat was literally one room, plus a small bathroom. The only indication that the kitchen was separate from the rest of her space was the tile floor, as opposed to the carpet that covered her living room. Her bed was in the living room, pushed all the way into the far corner away from the window. Rosie was sure that Harry’s flat was much larger, but he didn’t seem to mind how small hers was.

Once they had settled onto the couch with their drinks and snacks, Harry unlocked his phone and held the screen between them. “Can you see?” he asked.

Rosie nodded. “We’re watching Grease?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “Turns out the internet shuts off when the power’s down, and this is one of the only films I have saved into my phone. Is that okay?”

“More than,” she assured him. “I love this movie, used to have a huge crush on Kenickie.”

“Kenickie?” Harry repeated incredulously. “First of all, he’s such a sleaze. Second, Danny Zuko is clearly the heartthrob here. Him and Rizzo are the hottest.”

“Dunno what to tell you, H,” Rosie laughed, “just always had a think for Kenickie.”

“I think I’ll be Kenickie for Halloween next year,” he grinned teasingly. Rosie pretended that she didn’t see Harry’s gaze drop down over her body and then back up again.

“Harry,” she said sternly.

“I know, I know,” he raised both of his hands into the air, “stop flirting with you.”

Rosie let the conversation drop after that. After all, she wanted to focus on the movie. It had been ages since she’d been able to sit down and watch a classic like this.

Just as Danny Zuko belted out the last lyrics of Greased Lightning, Harry leaned over and cleared his throat. Rosie glanced up at him to see that he was already looking down at her.

“Erm, Rosie?” he said softly.

“Yeah H?”

“My arm is getting, like, really tired holding the phone up like this.”

“Oh,” Rosie frowned. “Do you want me to take a turn holding it?”

“Well, I was thinking,” he mumbled, rolling his bottom lip between his fingers. “It might be more comfortable if we just, moved to your bed, y’know? That way we can just set the phone down and prop it up with pillows and stuff.”

Rosie wasn’t sure if it was the wine she had consumed or the soft, calm focus that Harry was putting on her, but she found herself fidgeting with the ends of her hair. She and Harry had sat close together more times than she could count, but sharing a bed was an entirely different story. Things happened on beds, things that she and Harry definitely didn’t do.

As if he could sense her discomfort, he placed a hand on her knee. “I promise I’ll still sleep on the couch.”

His promise didn’t do much to appease her, but she agreed nonetheless, shrugging one shoulder and nodding towards her bed with her chin. “Go get us set up, then. I’m going to pour more wine for us.”

I’m going to need it, she thought.

“Getting me drunk and letting me lay on your bed?” Harry jabbed at her side playfully as he passed her. “If you want me that badly, all you have to do is-”

“Jeez, Harry,” Rosie groaned, unable to keep the smile from her face, “sometimes you’re too cheeky.”

She filled her glass higher than she normally would.

When she finished, she stalked over to her twin bed and carefully sprawled out, trying to avoid spilling her wine. It was a tight squeeze with both of them – their shoulders and hips were pressed together tightly while they both lay on their stomachs – but Harry’s reassuring glance had her feeling more at ease.

It almost felt too good having him this close.

“Alright,” Harry said, taking a quick gulp of his wine, “shall I press play?

~~~

“YOU’RE THE ONE THAT I WANT!” Rosie yelled, slurring nearly every other word.

“OOH, OHH OHH, HONEY!” Harry shouted back, sounding equally as inebriated.

They had gotten up off her bed ages ago, opting to listen to the movie rather than watch it. The funny thing about having ‘just one more glass of wine, Ro’, was that it had turned into about three more glasses of wine, and they had each drank enough to get the room slightly off kilter. It was Rosie who had suggested that they danced when the song ‘Sandy’ came on, and Harry had agreed, leading her around the room in a poorly performed waltz.

Harry had been the one to insist they stayed standing, acting out each of the parts. He knew the lines much better than she did, but it was still hilarious to watch him flounce around her flat dramatically, dodging furniture as he went overboard with every scene.

“I was in a movie, y’know,” he had sulked when she laughed at him.

“Yes, H, I know,” she’d told him, pressing a firm kiss to the stubble on his cheek.

Now, they were more energetic than ever, the upbeat music adrenalizing them to the point of insanity. Harry was whipping his head all around in circles, feet tapping against the ground in fast, short jerks. Rosie was sure she had seen him pull this move when he had performed in London, but she was too busy dancing to say anything about it. Buddy, not wanting to be left out of the excitement, was tearing around the flat, occasionally stopping to jump up and press his nose to Harry’s stomach before racing away again.

“You better shape up!” She continued singing.

“‘Cause I need a man!” Harry interrupted her.

“Harry! That’s my line,” she whined, gripping the back of the couch to keep her balance. “I’m… I’m supposed to be Sandy.”

“Hmm, you are Sandy. I reckon you’d look nice in that costume, too,” Harry said seriously, stopping his twirling to get a better look at her. He had to hold onto the couch to keep from teetering as well.

“I actually was Sandy for Halloween once,” she told him, smiling at the memory. She and her high school sweetheart had done couples costumes her senior year, and she’d wanted to go all out. “Did you know that for the movie, Olivia Newton-John had to be stewn… stewn… sewn into her costume because it was so tight?” Rosie stumbled over her words.

Harry stepped closer to her. “Were you sewn into yours?”

Rosie was taken aback by Harry’s unfaltering stare. There was an intensity there that she hadn’t seen from him before, and certainly hadn’t been there just moments ago, and even though she knew that it was irresponsible to egg him on, she didn’t want to stop.

“No…” she told him. “It was really tight, though. Completely made of elastic.”

“Wow,” he sighed, raking his eyes up and down her frame with wine-hooded eyes. “Wish I had been there for that….”

He was close enough now to touch her, but his arms hung straight as needles by his sides. The air surrounding them, though freezing, was thick with tension. Everything felt hazy, as if anything outside of the moment was immersed in fog.

“My boyfriend at the time… he was dressed as Danny.”

Harry’s lips curled downwards into snarl. “Don’t have a boyfriend now, right?”

“Nope,” she whispered.

Harry’s arm lifted to her waist. Rosie couldn’t move, and even though she knew her heartbeat had picked up a considerable amount, she felt like it wasn’t beating at all. She swore her lungs stopped working the moment his fingertips buried into her sweater.

“That’s… good, yeah?” He hushed, watching his hand like somebody else was moving it for him.

“What?” She breathed, unable to pay attention to anything but his touch.

“‘S good that you,” he gulped, “s’good you don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Why’s that good?”

He wrapped his arm further around her, pulling her closer to him. Rosie placed her palms flat against his chest, and relished in the fact that his heartbeat was just as erratic as hers.

“‘S good because you look, just, so beautiful,” he answered softly. Rosie couldn’t stop staring at his lips.

“Stop, um, stop flirting with me, Harry.”

His name had barely escaped her mouth when his lips pressed to hers. The kiss was gentle; timid, almost. Rosie didn’t dare move her hands, afraid that the slightest movement would shatter the moment. Harry’s head tilted skillfully to the left, his nose just barely brushing against hers. He sucked on her bottom lip like it was the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted, only pulling away to breathe in deeply. Rosie felt hypnotized.

When Harry finally took a small step back, they were both panting.

“Can’t believe I just did that,” he touched his fingertips to his lips. Rosie, however, was less than pleased by the distance he had created.

Taking a bold step forward, she wrapped her hand around the back of his neck. He watched her with eager eyes. “I can’t believe you just stopped,” she quipped.

Their second kiss was more intense, full of open mouths, clashing teeth, and tongues moulding against each other. It was sloppy, and tasted bitter like wine, but Rosie felt like she was flying. She loved the way Harry’s hands explored her body: running up and down her sides, tangling into her hair, and even reaching down to squeeze over her bottom. It was all heavenly.

She didn’t fight him when he walked her backwards towards the bed, and she definitely didn’t stop him when his hands pulled up on the hem of her sweater. She reached for the button on his jeans in retaliation, and the sounds he made were melodic, more beautiful than any song she’d ever heard.

“Ro,” he panted, rubbing over the fleshy part of her stomach with his thumb, “can I please….”

“Yes,” she breathed into his neck, “please, take it off."

She lifted her arms above her head, and Harry slowly tugged the material off of her, leaving her in nothing but her leggings and bralette. As soon as her shirt hit the floor, his hands were all over her; rubbing at her chest, latching onto her hips, even flicking at her nipples with his thumbs through the thin fabric.

Rosie tugged at one of the strings on Harry’s hoodie. “Take this off,” she demanded.

He complied, whipping his sweatshirt and t-shirt off in one go. She gawked at the way his tattoos looked in the candlelight, shadows flickering over the black ink in a dizzying motion. She couldn't decide if she wanted to stare at him or cover him in kisses.

She settled on the latter, sinking to her knees and pulling him forward by the backs of his thighs. Harry clearly hadn’t expected this, as he stumbled forward and nearly kneed Rosie in the chin.

“Sorry,” he whispered.

Rosie couldn’t respond. She was too busy craning her neck to reach the center of Harry’s stomach. She placed one firm kiss to the patch of soft skin directly above his navel, and then she worked her way down with lighter, more delicate brushes of her lips. One of Harry’s hands reached down to tangle into her hair and gently press against the back of her head, guiding her downwards towards the waistband of his jeans.

“This okay?” She asked, fingers hesitantly brushing along his zipper. She could already tell that he was aroused, if the growing bulge under her hand was any indication.

“Yeah!” He panted, nodding vigorously, “please, yeah, ‘s fine.”

Getting his jeans off was difficult. They weren’t as tight as he used to wear them, but they still caught around his ankles and forced him to balance on one leg at a time to pull them off of his feet. Rosie had to scoot backwards slightly to give him more space.

As soon as they were off and flung across the room, she crawled back forward and drank in how appetizing he looked. He was swollen and leaking under his boxer briefs; a small wet patch leaking through where his head strained against the fabric.

Harry was breathing in broken puffs, the anticipation causing his chest to heave. Rosie watched as he reached down and pulled himself out of his underwear, sighing out loud when he gave himself a few short pumps. The bulbous head of his cock was a bright cherry color, while his strong shaft faded into a lighter pink. His foreskin had already been pushed down from the fisted grip he had on himself.

Her hand reached out to cover his. She followed his movements as he jerked himself off, marvelling at the way his thighs shook with each brush over the tip. The precum that hadn’t leaked into his boxers was now spread all around him, and the wet noises that his hand made with each movement were practically sinful.

Harry moved his hands away the moment Rosie leaned forward to suck part of him into her mouth, choosing instead to once again bury them into her hair. The pressure of his hands wasn’t forceful, but comforting. He would press her head forward just as his hips would shift, fucking into her mouth gently and slowly. Rosie closed her eyes, toying with the band of his boxers that were still tight around his thighs as the weight of him slid heavily against her tongue.

“Rosie,” he mumbled halting his movements. She let him drop from her mouth to peer up at his face, nearly moaning at the sight of his flushed chest and the thin sheen of sweat that glinted off of his skin. “Gonna cum soon… I don’t know if… did you, like, want to have sex?”

Rosie wanted to, she really did, but she was also hyper-aware that they were both still rather tipsy. She knew that if she had sex with him tonight, she might regret it in the morning. They hadn’t even had a conversation about what they were doing.

“Is it okay if we don’t?” She asked.

“Of course!” Harry gushed. “Not gonna do anything you don’t wanna do. I mean, obviously.”

“Okay, thank you,” she mumbled. She reached up to grab onto his cock again, squeezing it slightly. Small bubbles of liquid were dribbling from the tip, and she couldn’t peel her eyes away from the way they dripped down the underside and soaked into the small mousey hairs gathered at the base.

“Don’t thank me,” he muttered, closing his eyes at the feel of her fingers on him.

“Gonna help you finish,” she stated, pressing her mouth against his hip. “Then… will you maybe… just touch me a little?”

“Can do that,” he nodded, his jaw noticeably tightening. He bent his torso forward slightly to reach the hooks at the back of her bralette, fumbling with the delicate lace before pulling it open. It fell forward into the crooks of her elbows, and she quickly discarded it onto the floor.

The heat pooling between Rosie’s legs was slowly becoming unbearable, and Harry undressing her while she was still on her knees was making her impatient. She could already tell that she’d soaked through her underwear, so she hurriedly put Harry back into her mouth.

“Whoa,” he gasped, “slow, slower, Rosie. Promise I’ll touch you as soon as I’m done.”

He rubbed a finger soothingly along her jaw, encouraging her to open her lips wider. He went back to moving in and out of her mouth, pushing a little bit deeper down her throat with each thrust, but never to the point where she felt like she was going to gag.

“‘M about to cum, Rosie! ‘M gonna….” He warned not two minutes later. “Fuck!”

He was partially pulled out of her when spurts of salty, warm cum burst from him. Most of it landed on her tongue, but a few drips escaped over her lips, leaking down her chin and onto the floor beneath her.

Neither of them spoke for a few moments. The air surrounding them was musty and dense.

“Let’s move to the bed, yeah?” Harry requested tenderly, tucking himself back into his briefs. He gripped her hand in his own and pulled her to her feet. “You’ve got a bit of….”

He swiped his tongue out over her lips, lapping up the remnants of his orgasm from her skin. The open-mouthed kisses soon moved down her chin, over her jaw, and into the dip where her neck met her shoulder. He shuffled them both sideways until they fell unceremoniously onto her bed.

“Oof,” Rosie grunted, grimacing as her breasts bounced a little bit too heavily from the impact. This seemed to catch Harry’s attention, as he immediately moved to press his face into her chest, nipping at the skin above her cleavage.

“These are so nice,” he complimented, taking a breast into each of his hands.

“Thanks, grew them myself,” Rosie sighed.

“God,” Harry choked out a short laugh, “shut up, will you?”

And she did shut up, but only because he was petting her over her leggings and she thought she might scream if she opened her mouth.  

It felt amazing, but Rosie knew that she needed something more. She let out a small noise, pushing her leggings and underwear down slightly. Harry smiled, leaning back to pull them fully off of her legs.

“Harry,” she whispered. His calloused fingers brushed over inner thigh.

“Everything okay?” He asked, meeting her stare.

“Yeah, just,” she gulped. “I’m probably gonna be pretty quiet, but it’s not because it doesn’t feel good! I just need to… focus.”

“Okay,” he laughed, “good to know.”

“Wait!” She said just as is hand shifted closer to her center. “I haven’t… shaved in a long time. It’s just, it’s Winter and I wasn’t expecting-”

“Rosie,” he deadpanned, “I’ve literally never cared about anything less.”

And then he was touching her. He played her like a musical instrument, plucking at her clit with his thumb and slowly moving his fingers in and out of her. He was tucked into her side, using one of his legs to hold hers open. His head dipped slightly so he could wrap his lips around the nipple closest to him. Everything about him was soft and slow; purposeful and skilled.

The pads of fingers were rough and calloused, and Rosie closed her eyes at the feeling. She felt her legs twitch every time he brushed over a particularly sensitive spot, and her stomach clenched every time he bit down on her nipple. It was sure to feel bruised tomorrow, but she didn’t mind.

“Hm?” Harry hummed when Rosie sucked in a particularly sharp breath.

“‘M good,” she assured him, “feels good.”

She could feel his eyes on her face, gauging her reaction to his touch. His movements were calculated; curious fingers exploring her inside and out.

Rosie came quickly, euphoria taking over her body as Harry continued working her through her orgasm. Her back arched off of the bed, and Harry eagerly kissed at her neck as she threw her head back. As soon as it felt too sensitive, she grabbed onto his wrist to halt his movements.

A giggle escaped her lips as Harry wiped his fingers on his bare thigh. He had a silly, satisfied smile plastered across his cheeks, and he shifted them both so that he had an arm wrapped around her shoulders. Now that neither of them were moving, the cold air was freezing against their exposed skin. Rosie quickly pulled her covers over them.

They stayed like that for a while, occasionally nuzzling closer for warmth or pressing small kisses wherever they could reach. Rosie felt dopey; cuddling with Harry post-orgasm was the most addicting drug she’d ever consumed.

She never wanted to move, but Buddy started yelping desperately at the door. She groaned, burying her face into Harry’s shoulder. He pouted when she pulled herself up into a sitting position.

“I need to take him outside,” she frowned.

“I’ll come with,” Harry announced.

After they haphazardly threw on some clothes (Harry had borrowed some of her sweatpants and his sweatshirt was inside out and backwards, and Rosie wasn’t wearing any underwear), they found themselves shivering outside while they waited for Buddy to finish. Despite their impatience, Buddy had decided to take his time, sniffing every single thing that his nose could reach.

“If it weren’t so bloody cold, this might be romantic,” Harry pointed out.

Rosie raised her eyebrows. This was the closest they’d come to actually addressing... everything, but she was still feeling a little bit wine-buzzed, and didn’t want to start a conversation she couldn’t finish. However, it did feel a bit romantic. Snow was falling in large, fluffy clumps, and the combination of streetlight and moonlight was casting a soft glow over Harry’s face.

“I think my brain is numb,” Rosie told him, deflecting from his previous statement.

“‘Cause of the cold, or something else?” Harry snickered, leaning over to bump his shoulder into hers.

“The cold, Harry,” she rolled her eyes. Harry continued laughing at her, so she ignored him while Buddy finished up. As soon as he was done, Rosie was making a beeline towards her door.

Harry was hot on her heels. “I know it’s not much warmer inside, but anything is better than this,” he stated, blinking his eyes against the wind. “Hopefully the power comes back on soon.”

Rosie hummed in agreement, twisting the handle and letting them back inside. It was just a short climb up the stairs, but Harry placed his hand on the small of her back to help her keep her balance. She could practically feel the heat of his skin burn through the thick layers she had on.

As soon as they were back in her flat, Rosie looked at him. His cheeks were flushed red and his nose looked a bit runny, but it was cute when he scrunched up his face, and she loved the way his hair looked when he pulled off his beanie, sticking out in nearly every direction as if he’d been electrocuted.  

She stepped up to place a quick peck against his lips, but Harry prolonged it, following her movements as she went to pull away.

“Mmm,” Harry hummed against her mouth. “What was that for, hm?”

“Just trying to be a good hostess,” Rosie breathed. Their closeness was dizzying.

“Ah, I see,” he grinned, “do you give all of your guests this kind of treatment?”

“Oh yes, absolutely,” she teased, pulling away and stepping back to finish unzipping her coat. Harry frowned.

“Heeeey,” his hands latched onto her forearms, pulling her back into his chest. “‘S rude,”

He nudged her fingers out of the way and dragged her zipper the rest of the way down for her. His tongue poked out from between his lip as he concentrated on not getting any fabric caught between the tines.

They moved slowly while they got ready for bed, partly because Harry refused to take his hands off of her, but also because they were exhausted. While Harry finished wiping down Buddy’s feet, Rosie walked around her flat to blow out all of the candles apart from the one right by her bed. Once Harry stripped down to nothing but his sweatpants, and Rosie had changed into an oversized t-shirt, they sluggishly crawled under the blankets.

“Erm, I can sleep here, right?” Harry asked, picking at the corner of the covers. “I can still sleep on the couch if you want me to.”

“Harry,” Rosie smiled, shaking her her head, “you’re obviously sleeping here. Now pull the covers back up, you’re letting the cold air in.”

He didn’t need to be told twice, instantly scooching down in the bed and curling himself around her. She leaned over his frame to blow out the last remaining candle, and then burrowed herself into his arms.

Harry’s hands were icicles against her bare hips, and hers were frigid against his back, but it was the kind of cold where it was comfortable; the kind where they both knew that as long as they stayed pressed together, their hands would warm up against each others’ skin.

“Thanks for letting me stay,” Harry whispered, so quietly that Rosie could have dreamed it.

“Always welcome here….” she returned as she began to drift off. She thought she heard him start to say something else, but her eyelids suddenly felt ten times heavier, and Harry’s thumb circling her hipbone was almost too soothing. Rosie drifted off to the soft rumble of his voice, and the rough texture of his fingertips on her skin.

~~~

Rosie woke up the same way she does nearly every morning: a wet, cold tongue lapping at her cheek. She forced herself to peel her eyes open, and found herself nose to nose with Buddy, who was wagging his tail expentently.

As more and more of her senses returned, she became acutely aware of Harry’s hand on her hip. His chest was pressed snugly to her back, and small puffs of air were hitting her scalp where his face was nestled into her hair. A smile crept up her cheeks. She wanted nothing more than to settle into his warmth, but Buddy was growing increasingly impatient, letting out small whines and shifting his feet on Rosie’s leg.

Not wanting to wake Harry, Rosie gently lifted Harry’s arm enough to slide out without disturbing him. He shifted slightly, pulling the covers closer to his chin and letting out a small affronted sound, but thankfully, he stayed asleep.

The power must have turned back on overnight, because her flat was suddenly a comfortable temperature. Rosie let out a sigh at the thought of finally being able to lounge around comfortably.

“Hey boy,” she whispered, unhooking Buddy’s leash from the hook by the door. She held it out towards him and he pranced over to her, exposing his neck so that Rosie could attach the leash to his collar. “Wanna go for a walk?”

The moment she stepped out of the complex, her lips curled into a snarl. Snow certainly looks nice, but she hated the way that the small frozen particles scratched at her skin in the wind, and she definitely didn’t like how it hurt to breath in through her nose. Buddy didn’t seem to mind, already sniffing around to find a suitable place to do his business.

Once he was finished, Rosie decided that she would only take him around the block once. Normally, she’d go longer, but the bitterness in the air and the promise of returning home to Harry made her want to rush. She would take Buddy on an extra long walk later on.

Harry was just as she left him when she got back into her flat, but this time, his hooded eyes were blinking rapidly in the sunlight.

“Mmm, hi,” he groaned, raising his arms above his head in a stretch.

“Morning,” Rosie replied, eyes lingering on his biceps that were peeking out from under her bedsheets. “Sorry if I woke you, Buddy needed to go out. You can go back to sleep if you want.”

“‘M up now,” he grunted, “you should come back over here….”

His tone was soft and inviting, and an involuntary flush crept up Rosie’s cheeks. Remembering how warm he’d felt pressed up against her left a chill over her skin that rivaled the biting cold outside. She quickly bent down to untie her snow boots, trying to hide her reddening face from him.

“Please?” Harry whined when she didn’t respond. “‘S cold, and you’re warm.”

“Shouldn’t you get up too, H?” She raised an eyebrow at him, “the plows have already been through, so you should probably call the locksmith to get your car open.”

“Yeah,” he muttered indifferently.

Rosie knew that the moment she looked at him, she’d be a goner, and while she normally doesn’t like to get back in bed after moving around, she was going to have to make an exception. Just as she’d suspected, as soon as she settled her gaze on where he was laying in bed, she was met with puppy-dog eyes and an outreached hand.

“Fine,” she relented. “Let me just get my coat off.”

“You can take off everything else too, if you’d like,” Harry called out. “I wouldn’t mind!”

“Stop flirting with me!” Rosie grinned, giddiness seeping into her bloodstream. She felt jittery, excited, and far too focused, as if she’d just gulped down three cups of coffee.

“Think we’re a bit past that, Ro.”

Rosie huffed playfully, going to set her sopping boots and coat on top of the radiator by the window. There was nothing more pleasant than putting on warm, dry boots before heading out into the winter. As she was walking across the room, she noticed Harry’s jacket thrown across the floor, so she picked it up to place on the heater as well.

Just as she was shaking it out to set down, something heavy fell out of his pocket and hit the floor with a thud. Rosie’s eyes widened as she bent down to pick up the set of keys, dangling it over her pointer finger. Not only were his car keys attached, but a key nearly identical to her own hung from the collection.

“What was….” Harry trailed off after seeing what she held in her hand, “...that… um….”

“So you weren’t locked out after all?” Rosie bit out. She felt heat creep up her back and over her shoulders, the giddiness she had felt just moments ago giving way to disbelief. He had lied to her.

“Um, no, I wasn’t,” Harry admitted with a sigh, scratching at the back of his neck and avoiding eye contact with her. “I… I was just….”

Rosie threw the keys onto the table. She didn’t know what to do with her hands, but she knew she had to do something, so she began to organize the blankets that she’d set out on the couch for Harry. Blankets that had gone unused.

“Just what?” Rosie snapped. “Just coming over to see if you could get me in bed with you? Is that what this is?”

“What? No, Ro. Absolutely not!” He threw the covers from his lap, rushing to his feet. Rosie stormed over to the closet and shoved the blankets inside, closing it more harshly than she normally would. When she turned back around, Harry was already walking towards her, a wild glint in his eyes.

“Well you did a mighty fine job, Harry,” Rosie seethed, ignoring his attempt to brush his hand along her arm. “Managed to get my clothes off, on my knees for you. You must be so proud of yourself.”

“Rosie, no,” he pleaded, gently wrapping his fingers around her bicep to keep her still. “I swear, I would never do something like that. I wasn’t trying to trick you, or anything of the sort!”

“Then why lie about being locked out?” She demanded. “This… last night was a mist-”

“No!” Harry begged, cutting her off. “Please don’t say it was a mistake… it… it wasn’t-”

“And what about all of the other times?” Rosie interrupted. “Were you ever actually locked out of your flat, or were you just trying to… I dunno… wear me down?”

“How could you even think that?” Harry growled, his desperation morphing into something else entirely. He tugged at the ends of his hair with the hand that wasn’t gripping her arm, his eyes closing in exasperation. “I care about you so much.”

“So this is the only time you’ve lied?” She challenged, watching as his jaw flexed.

“Erm… not exactly,” Rosie went to tug her arm out of his hold, but Harry stepped closer, not allowing her to storm off like she’d planned. “But it’s not what you think! The first time, I really was locked out. It’s just… you were so sweet to me, I- I wanted to spend more time with you, that’s all.”

“You could have just knocked on my door,” she narrowed her eyes. “You didn’t need to lie to me to spend time with me.”

“I know,” he rubbed a hand over his face. The tips of his ears were tinged bright red.

“I… I really don’t appreciate dishonesty-”

“I was nervous!” Harry exploded. Buddy yelped on the bed, stressed out due to the tension in the room, and Rosie took a short step back, not expecting him to be so loud. “You… you make me so nervous. Like, when Mr. Goldman moved out of this place, I had never even thought about anyone new moving in, let alone a cute girl…. Like, Ro, I’m not even kidding, I’ve had a crush on you since I first met you.”

“You… you could’ve-”

“And I know I’m shit for being dishonest, but fuck, you took me by surprise. I didn’t know what to do,” he admitted, looking down at their feet. “I never meant to upset you, I really just wanted to get to know you better. And then, once I started… I couldn’t stop.”

“Harry,” Rosie breathed brokenly, the air getting caught in her throat. “I don’t really… know what to say.”

“Just… say you forgive me?” he asked, his gaze lifting to flit around her face for any indication that she understood. “I’m so sorry.”

And then Rosie was laughing. It was definitely not an appropriate time, but she couldn’t contain her giggles. So many conflicting emotions were rushing through her; excitement, anxiety, relief, frustration. It was overwhelming.

“Um,” Harry watched owlishly as Rosie bent over to grip her knees, overcome by fits of laughter. “I’m... uh….”

“God,” she choked out finally, “you are such an idiot, Harry!”

“I’m… sorry?”

“No! I don’t mean, like, literally.” Rosie forced herself to stop laughing, but was unable to wash the smile off of her face. Harry looked both impatient and perplexed. “It’s just… hilarious. You could’ve asked me out that very first time and I would’ve said yes.”

A slow smile crept up Harry’s cheeks.

“And I’m sorry for laughing, it’s just,” Rosie continued, “it’s so simple, and we’re so fucking dramatic.”

Harry started laughing then, too. He dragged a hand all the way down his face, rubbing at his tightly closed eyes before blinking them back open to stare at her.

“So, just to clarify here,” he started. Rosie launched into another set of quiet giggles when she saw the ghost of a smirk on his lips. “You… would go out with me.”

“Yes, Harry,” she replied, “for fucks sake, I like you so much. Thought it was obvious.”

“I thought I was the one being obvious!” His shoulders sagged as the tension left his body. “We’re both idiots.”

“So stupid,” Rosie agreed.

“And god, so fucking oblivious,” he added.

“So oblivious.”

“And we’re also… getting dinner tonight?”

“Going on a date,” she confirmed.

“Yeah,” his smile was so wide, she probably could have counted all of his teeth. “That, a date.”

“Yeah,” Rosie beamed back at him, twiddling her fingers together, “so… you should probably go, then. And maybe, I dunno, put some clothes on?”

Harry glanced down as if he’d forgotten that he was shirtless. “Might be a good idea.”

Rosie leaned back against the wall as Harry gathered his things. Somehow, the handful of belongings that he’d brought had scattered all around her flat: his phone charger, his sweatshirt, his beanie. One of his socks was on the other side of the room, it’s partner stuffed into one of his boots. It didn’t help that Rosie was also disorganized; Harry was forced to move piles of her things aside to reach his own.

Finally, he’d collected everything into his arms. Rosie opened the door for him, but he lingered in the doorway, leaning back onto his heels and rubbing his lips together.

“Well I guess, erm, I’ll just see you later?” he raised an eyebrow.

“You will,” Rosie confirmed. “6:00, somewhere we could walk to?”

“Sure,” Harry said. They were engulfed in an awkward silence, and there was nothing else to do but stare. “Uh, bye then?”

“Bye,” Rosie repeated quietly, shutting the door as soon as he’d turned around.

She pressed her back against the door with a huff, mind reeling from everything that had happened. It had all gone down in such a short period of time, it almost didn’t seem real. Had Harry really dragged his lips all over her body, or had that been her imagination?

She had just started to walk towards the bathroom to check in the mirror for hickeys when a knock sounded on her door. She whipped it open to find a sheepish Harry on the other side. She didn’t know what she expected him to say, but when he finally spoke, there was a twinkle in his eye.

“I… may have forgotten my keys.”

~~~

To those of you made it this far, thank you! I’d love to hear from you if you’re willing to shoot me a message... feedback is key, after all! 

xxxooo Tile

[a-dorin]

safe & sound | kylo ren

word count: 1,199

warnings: angst, cursing, some yelling, other than that.. fluff!

“Hey could u write fluff about Kylo Ren when he gets too scary about you being in a pretty dangerous mission but u return safe and sound due to your skills?”

a/n: i hope this is somewhat along the lines of what you wanted! enjoy :))

“(y/n), i have an assignment for you,” captain phasma remarked, her hands clasped together on the cool marble table, “it is quite risky however, you may not return alive.”

“oh?” you raised a brow, “how so?”

“you would be infiltrating the rebel base,” phasma’s tone was cool, “you would be portraying a feeble engineer, claiming you have information about the first order. from there, you will establish yourself. make friends with that captain and general leia. you are remarkably cunning and skilled with your blaster. i have faith in you.”

“she’s not going,” a voice boomed from across the table, “that’s far too dangerous.”

“commander ren,” phasma kept her cool composure, “with all due respect, you have no say in this matter. this (y/n)’s choice.”

“it’s too risky,” kylo ren countered, his voice rising, “i will not allow this.”

“do not let your personal interests conflict with our duties,” phasma snarled. 

“i am your commander,” kylo’s voice was eerily quiet, “i will not give (y/n) permission to continue with this mission.”

“kylo,” you sucked in a deep breath, “please, let me do this.”

kylo huffed, “fine.” 

“i am happy to take the assignment,” you chirped to captain phasma, “how about we meet tonight to go over the more intricate details?”

“wonderful,” phasma purred, turning her head to face kylo, “commander ren, have faith in (y/n), will you? she is our best pilot, after all.”

“hmph,” you could picture kylo rolling his eyes underneath his mask. 

“this meeting is adjourned,” general hux piped up, clearing his throat. 

kylo didn’t utter another word, only rising from his chair. he shoved the chair in, storming out of the council room. you let out a sigh, frustration flooding your thoughts. did kylo doubt your abilities? why was he so upset with you accepting the mission? 

“just to make things clear,” captain phasma’s voice was gentle as she placed a hand on your shoulder, “i have faith in you, (y/n). i am sorry that he does not.”

“thank you,” you mumbled, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, “i appreciate the sentiment.”

phasma nodded curtly, allowing your dismissal from the council room. you felt anxiety bubble up with every step towards kylo’s quarters. your mind buzzed, racing with all of the possibilities of what would unfold as you entered his space. would be upset that you stopped by? would he lash out on you? 

kylo ren was a complex yet beautiful soul. he was your lover, the two of you intertwined in a complicated relationship. the origins of the relationship began about a year prior, where you bumped into the commander in the halls, one fateful night. it was late, and you were disoriented from a mission, sick to your stomach. you collided with kylo,  feeling as if you hit a brick wall. he apologized profusely, offering you his hand to guide you back to your feet. 

when you made eye contact, (y/e/c) meeting chocolate, you felt a blush rise into your cheeks. you had never encountered the commander without his mask on before. his disposition was a lot warmer than normal, peppering you with questions like “are you okay?” “did you hit your head at all?”

from that moment, you knew kylo ren was not the monster that everyone claimed he was. the fact that he showed you kindness and generosity from the start reflected his true character. the commander of the first order, prodigy of supreme leader snoke, kylo ren, was a gentle giant. at least, when it came to you. it was quite clear that he held a soft spot for you. whenever you entered the room, a soft smile formed on his face. whenever you spoke to him, he melted at your voice, the sound sweet like honey. 

softly, you knocked on the door, the sound echoing through the corridor. a grunt came from behind the steel doors, giving you permission to enter in his code on the keypad. the numbers came naturally to you, after months of memorization. your fingers danced on the numbers, the doors sliding open with a hiss. 

inside, kylo ren sat on his bed, adorned in nothing but a pair of soft trousers. his muscles rippled under his pale skin, glowing in the moonlight. his jet-black hair fell to his shoulders, shining as he turned his head. even though he tried upholding a tough exterior, you couldn’t help but notice his eyes soften as you sat next to him, admiring your appearance. 

“you really pissed captain phasma off,” you murmured, fiddling with a loose string on your tunic, “she was just giving me my assignment.” 

kylo said nothing, falling onto the sprawling sheets. you exhaled, laying beside him. gingerly, you laid your head on his chest, his heartbeat lulling you to sleep. his fingers laced themselves in your hair, careful not to tug too harshly on your locks. your eyelids drooped, kylo’s actions and the sound of his heartbeat threatening you with sleep. however, you couldn't rest yet. you had to pry some more. 

“i just can’t lose you,” kylo’s voice was quiet. almost too quiet, “i can’t bear the thought of losing you.” 

“you’re not going to lose me kylo,” you whispered, drawing circles on his chest with your finger.

“the mission captain phasma assigned to you is dangerous,” kylo retaliated, his tone sharp, “even with your skillset and intelligence, i worry about you.”

a hum came from your lips, “kylo, i will be fine. i promise.”

“do you?” he arched a dark brow. 

“i promise,” you affirmed, snuggling into his chest, “i’ll stay the night, if that helps ease your worries.” 

“you know it does,” you felt his mood lighten, “you’re my everything, (y/n).”

“i love you,” you placed a gentle kiss on his skin, “you have my heart kylo ren.”

“and you have mine,” his words crescendoed, as sleep overtook him, “please be careful with it, as it is extremely delicate.”

you grinned, tilting your head up to give the commander a tender kiss, “i will handle it with care.”

“i know you will angel,” kylo rumbled, a sleepy smile apparent, “be safe tomorrow. i’ll miss you.” 

a sleepy giggle tumbled out of your mouth, reverberating off the walls. the two of you snuggled closer together, kylo pulling you into his embrace. you began to run your fingers through his hair, kylo melting under your touch. soon, his light snores filled your ears, the commander sound asleep. 

you fell asleep with a smile painted on your lips, content after your spat with kylo. in your heart, you knew that you would be safe, successfully carrying out the mission. you just had to hold onto your faith, as well as keep your chin held high. your quick-wit and storytelling abilities would make you a formidable spy. for now though, you were kylo ren’s lover, safe within his warm embrace. you wished you could lay there forever, as it was your favorite place. 

“i love you,” kylo’s voice, thick with sleep, startled you. 

“i love you too,” you mumbled, eyes closed.

the two of you slept soundly, content to be in each other’s arms. 

[captainnellbatoast]

SHARKS, SHARKS AND MORE SHARKS

The subject area I'd like to choose for my FMP is shark attacks which is a theme that I'm really interested in and have a pre-existing knowledge of. The subject of shark attacks is full of incorrect preconceptions that’s been majorly informed by the portrayal of attacks in cult films such as Jaws. These have completely moulded the culture of swimming in the sea worldwide, and the overall view of sharks. 

In particular within this subject I’d like to investigate the conflict between human and shark, exploring the villainization of singular sharks which has been heavily influenced by pop culture. I’d like to adopt a process focussed on pacing, suspense, conflict while introducing tone of voice and possibly conversational dialect to the language.

Before 1916 there was skepticism if a shark could even take down a human. In the summer of that year that would be immensely disproved as 5 people were attacked in 11 days on the shore of New Jersey, 4 of which were fatalities. This spree of attacks, which inspired Jaws, birthed the idea that there is a sole shark out there hunting humans, when in fact it is far more likely that a group of sharks moved into that area due to a migrational change, and at the height of summer and beach bathers there happened to be 5 attacks from a collection of sharks. More coincidence than not.

One thing that really fascinates me about this is the vilanization of a single shark which has led to the strange misconception that if you catch a shark around the time of an attack, especially if when gutted it has human remains inside it, your shore will now be safe. The relationship between sharks and humans widely exists as hunt or be hunted even though most people won’t ever encounter a shark in the wild. Does this fear stem from a power complex or is it purely survival instinct induced? Is the fear that we will be hunted or killed? Could this inform a discussion appreciating sharks as hunters and gorgeously engineered killing machines, through an act of respect? 

The chances of you being killed by a falling coconut are higher than both being fatally injured by a shark or surviving the attack. Despite most people having a grasp on this concept, or similar, the fear takes over when swimming in murky or even clear open water to the point that many people are fearful and have doubts whilst swimming on even British coasts.

How has culture informed this fear? Jaws has scarred many many children and adults from young ages due to Spielberg’s masterful avoidance of the 12 rating. It is quite hard to believe that it was, and remains, a PG rated film. When speaking to those who were born in the 70s about their first memory of Jaws they often remark how they left the cinema during the screening or how it took a long time to come to terms with their experience of it as they were shit scared. Some note not even wanting to get in the bath. I remember watching the opening scene at 9 on Youtube and then really struggling to grow a pair and get into the sea that summer which I found profoundly odd as I had always really liked monster movies and tended to be a very fearless child when it came to stuff like that. Films like King Kong, Jurassic Park, Coraline, Monster House, which a lot of kids had issues watching, I couldn’t get enough of, but what was different about Jaws though was it could be real. I was able to establish the impossibleness of the other films, but 9 year old me couldn't get it out of my head that unless I never got into the water again I would never truly be safe. I’m still not sure which bit of being attacked by a shark I was more scared for at that point, or if it was just the concept and visual of Alex’s raft floating back all bloody and solo- that stuck with me more than the gorey death bit because I found that kind of cool. Luckily for me peer pressure took over that summer and I got into the water and kind of eliminated that fear. It wasn’t until I went snorkelling in the Caribbean 2 years ago in deep open water that I had to confront this feeling again. Not being able to have 360 vision constantly in crystal clear water was almost scarier than being in murky waters. I have now decided that I think the scariest part of being attacked by a shark (for me) would be if I was in clear water and seeing it swimming straight at me from a distance because at that point nothing is going to be able to stop it. 

I could find legs in this concept of fear and begin a tonal conversation on disaster in general and how it is responded to, both culturally and socially. It also begins to beg questions of why are we so scared of the shark species specifically and not say jellyfish when the stings kill way more people annually than sharks. Is it all down to the teeth; the engineering of the shark? What is the land equivalent of the shark? - is there one? or is the shark far superior to any other creature to currently exist? And how has the term been reappropriated to describe a type of person - “he’s a lone shark” “you shark”

I really enjoy watching shark attack documentaries. I like how they remind me how powerless humans can be in a world they dominate, especially when they’re taken off land. By entering the ocean you’re on a shark’s turf at the end of the day so if you get got can you really blame the shark? The varying amount of damage each species can do really shows the dominance of sharks and how perilous an encounter can be. The fact that great whites remain as one of the only animals that humans cannot keep in captivity without them dying almost immediately is a credit to the species.

I also like shark attack programmes because of the suspense and gore that’s recounted. Some of the injuries seem so alien that they come across as fictional and like they’re part of films. I’m not squeamish so on the rare occasions they show in detail injuries and footage of the attacks it’s my lucky day.

As well as accounts of attacks, documentaries often cover and explore preventative measures in shark ‘hotspots’ which has increased my fascination in the species itself a lot more recently. For example, surfers are now encouraged to wear blue patterned wetsuits that mimic the surface of the water as black wetsuits make you look like a seal (shark food). The other issue with black wetsuits, and also patterned, often neon ones, is the shark’s inability to see colour due to its single long-wavelength sensitive cone type in the retina, which means any high contrast in the water is easy to identify and track.

Recently I’ve been researching how climate change will impact shark migration and therefore attacks. The warmer a shark is, the more energy it has for hunting and migration, and with ocean temperatures rising sharks are become more active and migrating to new areas now that the sea is warm enough to be inhabited. Sharks currently found off the Spanish coast and in the Mediteraean are predicted to move north for the first time ever, meaning they could be entering British seas by 2050. Sharks predicted to follow this migration pattern include white hammerheards, blacktips and sandtigers. I wonder if British coasts homed sharks what the cultural and societal response would be to this. This could also spark a speculative investigation into the future of the shark.

I still stand by my 10 year old self’s opinion that death by shark is probably the coolest way to go.

[glenmenlow]

How Emotions Drive B2B Purchase Decisions

We like to think we’re rational and logical, that we identify then assess the options, evaluate the consequences then make solid, well-thought-through and reasoned decisions. But the decisions we make are primarily influenced by the emotions we feel. This is why creating an emotional connection is so important when building brand experiences.

The importance of emotion in decision-making has been recognized for many years. Ancient Chinese philosophers like Confucius and Mencius acknowledged the importance of emotion. The influential work of Antonio Damasio and colleagues outlines how human behavior is primarily driven by the emotions we feel, with rational thought following behind. Professor Dan Ariely and Nobel Prize-winner Daniel Kahneman also highlight the importance of emotion in decision making.

Research shows that creating an emotional connection with stakeholders delivers value. One study found the value of a customer increases as they progress along an ‘emotional connection pathway’ which gradually deepens their emotional relationship with the brand. Other research highlights the positive influence of creative and emotional rather than factual and rational content on brand favorability. This finding is consistent with another study, which showed the profitability of ads with purely emotional content was approximately twice (31 per cent vs 16 per cent) that of those with only rational content. Another study found a statistically significant and positive correlation between emotive brands and perceived favorability, while ads with above-average emotional response scores generated a 23 percent lift in sales volume.

Businesses That Sell To Other Businesses Are Made Of People – And People Have Emotions

The value of emotions in branding is not restricted to B2C markets. A Google study highlighting the personal nature of B2B markets showed how B2B customers feel emotionally connected to B2B brands. This study compared brands with ‘no brand connection’ and ‘high brand connection’. The results demonstrate the value of a ‘high brand connection’:

Consideration: 15 percent (‘no brand connection’) vs 79 percent (‘high brand connection’); Purchase: 5 percent (‘no brand connection’) vs 64 percent (‘high brand connection’); Willingness To Pay A Premium: 2 percent (‘no brand connection’) vs 60 percent (‘high brand connection’).

Most B2B brands tend to follow a similar brand experience path. They focus on price and functional features, not emotion and experiences. The logic for this approach tends to relate to clients’ use of a ‘cost, quality and feature’ matrix to inform their decision. These tools aim to make people objective and logical. If only life was that simple! To address this situation you need to understand the emotions that drive your target clients’ decision making then build brand experiences that tune into a relevant emotional channel.

The types of emotions that drive B2B choice are qualitatively different to those that drive B2C markets. B2B markets are characterized by complex, high-risk, high-value and long-term investments. This means experiences that mitigate risk, provide security, reassure, give peace of mind and enhance personal or organizational reputation win. IBM’s classic ‘Nobody ever got fired for buying IBM’ was a pioneering example. The emotion IBM played on was fear and they said they could address this problem by being reliable.

More recently, other world-class brands have started to adopt a more emotive approach. GE’s (General Electric) ‘short films’ series demonstrates the work GE facilitates, while Caterpillar’s #BuiltForIt Trials illustrate the durability and strength of their products in a variety of situations.

Considering The Mechanics Of Delivery

A few years ago, I spent a week delivering a brand strategy masterclass to one of the world’s leading laser manufacturers. Beforehand, I was a little nervous due to the technicalities of the market and the scientific profile of the participants. As the first day progressed I started to wonder if the brand was plagued by an irony. They sold exceptionally complex products that had a range of sophisticated applications, but our client focused on technical features such as ‘parameters’. Later that night I went back to their competitors to review their websites again. It struck me they were all adopting the same approach, even to the extent that most of the brands’ homepages have a picture of a laser. A wonderfully advanced market had focused on function, and so commoditized their offer. The next day we set about exploring how their target customers could be reached in more emotive ways, for instance, outlining how their product could help eminent professors conduct research that would make them candidates for Nobel Prizes.

How B2B Brands Are Winning Through Emotional Experiences

Joel Harrison, Editor-in-Chief, B2B Marketing outlines how some B2B brands are increasingly leveraging the power of emotion with great effect.

“Emotion has always been a massive part of B2B marketing, but until recently, most B2B brands have struggled to understand its importance and how to deploy it properly. B2B brands majored on logic and rationality – to list the wealth of important product features in excruciating detail.

Where emotion was used, in the ‘broadcast era’ of ‘one to many’ marketing channels, it often focused on the negative. Unless they took action, something really awful was going to happen. They were going to get outmanoeuvred by a competitor, or become uncompetitive due to legislative changes, etc. Fear was the emotional lever.

But today, in the era of social media, the role of emotion in B2B has flipped on its head. Brands rely on positive messages, sharing things that are interesting, exciting, funny, cool… even (whisper it) sexy. The likes of IBM, Lenovo, Hootsuite and Microfocus stand out as particularly good examples. Being robust, solid, dependable… the rational choice, makes you invisible on social media. We’re seeing a more informal, friendlier and warmer tone of voice coming to the fore in B2B akin to consumer marketing.

This is refreshing and long overdue. Understanding the subtle but profound differences required in driving an emotional connection for B2B over B2C customers will be one of the key factors in determining which B2B brands succeed in the 21st century.”

Emotion is the trump card when it comes to building brand experiences but it’s important you don’t underestimate the role of cognition or ‘thinking’, especially during the earlier stages of decision-making. For example, if you are not aware of a brand it will not come to mind when making a choice. With all the talk about emotion and brands I would encourage you to remember this point.

To appreciate why our decisions are primarily driven by the emotions we feel you need to understand two tightly connected regions of the brain: the prefrontal cortex and the limbic system.

The prefrontal cortex sits at the front of our brain and deals with cognitive functions such as decision making, evaluation, logic, working memory, reason, control and problem solving. The limbic system is a complex set of brain structures located in the depths of our brain that supports a variety of functions including our sense of smell, motivation, intuition, impulse, long-term memory and emotions. The fact that the limbic system deals with long-term memories and emotions is particularly important when it comes to building brand experiences. Why? When we make a decision, the front of our brain (prefrontal cortex) accesses our memory, and when we access our memory our brain sends electrical impulses to the limbic system to recall a brand-related emotion. This is important because when we make a decision, it’s not the memory of the brand that influences our choice but the emotion we feel associated with that brand in our memory. This is a subtle yet significant point.

Think about the last time you went out for dinner. Did the rude waiter make you feel uncomfortable? Was the food overpriced so you felt like you had been ripped off? Did the fly sitting proudly on top of your soup make you feel the restaurant was unhygienic? It’s not actually the memory of the waiter, food or fly that influences whether you would go back again, recommend the restaurant or send a mail the next day to complain; it’s the emotion you feel when you recall the experience. This is why the best brands in the world work hard to generate brand-related emotion.

Coca-Cola associating itself with the emotion of happiness is a classic example. Volvo helps people feel safe. Hallmark helps people feel loved. Ritz-Carlton helps people feel special. Armani helps people feel stylish. The list goes on but these brands understand the importance of creating an emotional connection as part of their brand experience-building efforts.

Contributed to Branding Strategy Insider by: Darren Coleman, excerpted from his new book Building Brand Experiences ©2018 with permission from Kogan Page Ltd.

The Blake Project Can Help: Accelerate Brand Growth Through Powerful Emotional Connections

Branding Strategy Insider is a service of The Blake Project: A strategic brand consultancy specializing in Brand Research, Brand Strategy, Brand Growth and Brand Education

FREE Publications And Resources For Marketers

from WordPress https://glenmenlow.wordpress.com/2018/10/11/how-emotions-drive-b2b-purchase-decisions/ via IFTTT

[joejstrickl]

How Emotions Drive B2B Purchase Decisions

We like to think we’re rational and logical, that we identify then assess the options, evaluate the consequences then make solid, well-thought-through and reasoned decisions. But the decisions we make are primarily influenced by the emotions we feel. This is why creating an emotional connection is so important when building brand experiences.

The importance of emotion in decision-making has been recognized for many years. Ancient Chinese philosophers like Confucius and Mencius acknowledged the importance of emotion. The influential work of Antonio Damasio and colleagues outlines how human behavior is primarily driven by the emotions we feel, with rational thought following behind. Professor Dan Ariely and Nobel Prize-winner Daniel Kahneman also highlight the importance of emotion in decision making.

Research shows that creating an emotional connection with stakeholders delivers value. One study found the value of a customer increases as they progress along an ‘emotional connection pathway’ which gradually deepens their emotional relationship with the brand. Other research highlights the positive influence of creative and emotional rather than factual and rational content on brand favorability. This finding is consistent with another study, which showed the profitability of ads with purely emotional content was approximately twice (31 per cent vs 16 per cent) that of those with only rational content. Another study found a statistically significant and positive correlation between emotive brands and perceived favorability, while ads with above-average emotional response scores generated a 23 percent lift in sales volume.

Businesses That Sell To Other Businesses Are Made Of People – And People Have Emotions

The value of emotions in branding is not restricted to B2C markets. A Google study highlighting the personal nature of B2B markets showed how B2B customers feel emotionally connected to B2B brands. This study compared brands with ‘no brand connection’ and ‘high brand connection’. The results demonstrate the value of a ‘high brand connection’:

Consideration: 15 percent (‘no brand connection’) vs 79 percent (‘high brand connection’); Purchase: 5 percent (‘no brand connection’) vs 64 percent (‘high brand connection’); Willingness To Pay A Premium: 2 percent (‘no brand connection’) vs 60 percent (‘high brand connection’).

Most B2B brands tend to follow a similar brand experience path. They focus on price and functional features, not emotion and experiences. The logic for this approach tends to relate to clients’ use of a ‘cost, quality and feature’ matrix to inform their decision. These tools aim to make people objective and logical. If only life was that simple! To address this situation you need to understand the emotions that drive your target clients’ decision making then build brand experiences that tune into a relevant emotional channel.

The types of emotions that drive B2B choice are qualitatively different to those that drive B2C markets. B2B markets are characterized by complex, high-risk, high-value and long-term investments. This means experiences that mitigate risk, provide security, reassure, give peace of mind and enhance personal or organizational reputation win. IBM’s classic ‘Nobody ever got fired for buying IBM’ was a pioneering example. The emotion IBM played on was fear and they said they could address this problem by being reliable.

More recently, other world-class brands have started to adopt a more emotive approach. GE’s (General Electric) ‘short films’ series demonstrates the work GE facilitates, while Caterpillar’s #BuiltForIt Trials illustrate the durability and strength of their products in a variety of situations.

Considering The Mechanics Of Delivery

A few years ago, I spent a week delivering a brand strategy masterclass to one of the world’s leading laser manufacturers. Beforehand, I was a little nervous due to the technicalities of the market and the scientific profile of the participants. As the first day progressed I started to wonder if the brand was plagued by an irony. They sold exceptionally complex products that had a range of sophisticated applications, but our client focused on technical features such as ‘parameters’. Later that night I went back to their competitors to review their websites again. It struck me they were all adopting the same approach, even to the extent that most of the brands’ homepages have a picture of a laser. A wonderfully advanced market had focused on function, and so commoditized their offer. The next day we set about exploring how their target customers could be reached in more emotive ways, for instance, outlining how their product could help eminent professors conduct research that would make them candidates for Nobel Prizes.

How B2B Brands Are Winning Through Emotional Experiences

Joel Harrison, Editor-in-Chief, B2B Marketing outlines how some B2B brands are increasingly leveraging the power of emotion with great effect.

“Emotion has always been a massive part of B2B marketing, but until recently, most B2B brands have struggled to understand its importance and how to deploy it properly. B2B brands majored on logic and rationality – to list the wealth of important product features in excruciating detail.

Where emotion was used, in the ‘broadcast era’ of ‘one to many’ marketing channels, it often focused on the negative. Unless they took action, something really awful was going to happen. They were going to get outmanoeuvred by a competitor, or become uncompetitive due to legislative changes, etc. Fear was the emotional lever.

But today, in the era of social media, the role of emotion in B2B has flipped on its head. Brands rely on positive messages, sharing things that are interesting, exciting, funny, cool… even (whisper it) sexy. The likes of IBM, Lenovo, Hootsuite and Microfocus stand out as particularly good examples. Being robust, solid, dependable… the rational choice, makes you invisible on social media. We’re seeing a more informal, friendlier and warmer tone of voice coming to the fore in B2B akin to consumer marketing.

This is refreshing and long overdue. Understanding the subtle but profound differences required in driving an emotional connection for B2B over B2C customers will be one of the key factors in determining which B2B brands succeed in the 21st century.”

Emotion is the trump card when it comes to building brand experiences but it’s important you don’t underestimate the role of cognition or ‘thinking’, especially during the earlier stages of decision-making. For example, if you are not aware of a brand it will not come to mind when making a choice. With all the talk about emotion and brands I would encourage you to remember this point.

To appreciate why our decisions are primarily driven by the emotions we feel you need to understand two tightly connected regions of the brain: the prefrontal cortex and the limbic system.

The prefrontal cortex sits at the front of our brain and deals with cognitive functions such as decision making, evaluation, logic, working memory, reason, control and problem solving. The limbic system is a complex set of brain structures located in the depths of our brain that supports a variety of functions including our sense of smell, motivation, intuition, impulse, long-term memory and emotions. The fact that the limbic system deals with long-term memories and emotions is particularly important when it comes to building brand experiences. Why? When we make a decision, the front of our brain (prefrontal cortex) accesses our memory, and when we access our memory our brain sends electrical impulses to the limbic system to recall a brand-related emotion. This is important because when we make a decision, it’s not the memory of the brand that influences our choice but the emotion we feel associated with that brand in our memory. This is a subtle yet significant point.

Think about the last time you went out for dinner. Did the rude waiter make you feel uncomfortable? Was the food overpriced so you felt like you had been ripped off? Did the fly sitting proudly on top of your soup make you feel the restaurant was unhygienic? It’s not actually the memory of the waiter, food or fly that influences whether you would go back again, recommend the restaurant or send a mail the next day to complain; it’s the emotion you feel when you recall the experience. This is why the best brands in the world work hard to generate brand-related emotion.

Coca-Cola associating itself with the emotion of happiness is a classic example. Volvo helps people feel safe. Hallmark helps people feel loved. Ritz-Carlton helps people feel special. Armani helps people feel stylish. The list goes on but these brands understand the importance of creating an emotional connection as part of their brand experience-building efforts.

Contributed to Branding Strategy Insider by: Darren Coleman, excerpted from his new book Building Brand Experiences ©2018 with permission from Kogan Page Ltd.

The Blake Project Can Help: Accelerate Brand Growth Through Powerful Emotional Connections

Branding Strategy Insider is a service of The Blake Project: A strategic brand consultancy specializing in Brand Research, Brand Strategy, Brand Growth and Brand Education

FREE Publications And Resources For Marketers

[markjsousa]

How Emotions Drive B2B Purchase Decisions

We like to think we’re rational and logical, that we identify then assess the options, evaluate the consequences then make solid, well-thought-through and reasoned decisions. But the decisions we make are primarily influenced by the emotions we feel. This is why creating an emotional connection is so important when building brand experiences.

The importance of emotion in decision-making has been recognized for many years. Ancient Chinese philosophers like Confucius and Mencius acknowledged the importance of emotion. The influential work of Antonio Damasio and colleagues outlines how human behavior is primarily driven by the emotions we feel, with rational thought following behind. Professor Dan Ariely and Nobel Prize-winner Daniel Kahneman also highlight the importance of emotion in decision making.

Research shows that creating an emotional connection with stakeholders delivers value. One study found the value of a customer increases as they progress along an ‘emotional connection pathway’ which gradually deepens their emotional relationship with the brand. Other research highlights the positive influence of creative and emotional rather than factual and rational content on brand favorability. This finding is consistent with another study, which showed the profitability of ads with purely emotional content was approximately twice (31 per cent vs 16 per cent) that of those with only rational content. Another study found a statistically significant and positive correlation between emotive brands and perceived favorability, while ads with above-average emotional response scores generated a 23 percent lift in sales volume.

Businesses That Sell To Other Businesses Are Made Of People – And People Have Emotions

The value of emotions in branding is not restricted to B2C markets. A Google study highlighting the personal nature of B2B markets showed how B2B customers feel emotionally connected to B2B brands. This study compared brands with ‘no brand connection’ and ‘high brand connection’. The results demonstrate the value of a ‘high brand connection’:

Consideration: 15 percent (‘no brand connection’) vs 79 percent (‘high brand connection’); Purchase: 5 percent (‘no brand connection’) vs 64 percent (‘high brand connection’); Willingness To Pay A Premium: 2 percent (‘no brand connection’) vs 60 percent (‘high brand connection’).

Most B2B brands tend to follow a similar brand experience path. They focus on price and functional features, not emotion and experiences. The logic for this approach tends to relate to clients’ use of a ‘cost, quality and feature’ matrix to inform their decision. These tools aim to make people objective and logical. If only life was that simple! To address this situation you need to understand the emotions that drive your target clients’ decision making then build brand experiences that tune into a relevant emotional channel.

The types of emotions that drive B2B choice are qualitatively different to those that drive B2C markets. B2B markets are characterized by complex, high-risk, high-value and long-term investments. This means experiences that mitigate risk, provide security, reassure, give peace of mind and enhance personal or organizational reputation win. IBM’s classic ‘Nobody ever got fired for buying IBM’ was a pioneering example. The emotion IBM played on was fear and they said they could address this problem by being reliable.

More recently, other world-class brands have started to adopt a more emotive approach. GE’s (General Electric) ‘short films’ series demonstrates the work GE facilitates, while Caterpillar’s #BuiltForIt Trials illustrate the durability and strength of their products in a variety of situations.

Considering The Mechanics Of Delivery

A few years ago, I spent a week delivering a brand strategy masterclass to one of the world’s leading laser manufacturers. Beforehand, I was a little nervous due to the technicalities of the market and the scientific profile of the participants. As the first day progressed I started to wonder if the brand was plagued by an irony. They sold exceptionally complex products that had a range of sophisticated applications, but our client focused on technical features such as ‘parameters’. Later that night I went back to their competitors to review their websites again. It struck me they were all adopting the same approach, even to the extent that most of the brands’ homepages have a picture of a laser. A wonderfully advanced market had focused on function, and so commoditized their offer. The next day we set about exploring how their target customers could be reached in more emotive ways, for instance, outlining how their product could help eminent professors conduct research that would make them candidates for Nobel Prizes.

How B2B Brands Are Winning Through Emotional Experiences

Joel Harrison, Editor-in-Chief, B2B Marketing outlines how some B2B brands are increasingly leveraging the power of emotion with great effect.

“Emotion has always been a massive part of B2B marketing, but until recently, most B2B brands have struggled to understand its importance and how to deploy it properly. B2B brands majored on logic and rationality – to list the wealth of important product features in excruciating detail.

Where emotion was used, in the ‘broadcast era’ of ‘one to many’ marketing channels, it often focused on the negative. Unless they took action, something really awful was going to happen. They were going to get outmanoeuvred by a competitor, or become uncompetitive due to legislative changes, etc. Fear was the emotional lever.

But today, in the era of social media, the role of emotion in B2B has flipped on its head. Brands rely on positive messages, sharing things that are interesting, exciting, funny, cool… even (whisper it) sexy. The likes of IBM, Lenovo, Hootsuite and Microfocus stand out as particularly good examples. Being robust, solid, dependable… the rational choice, makes you invisible on social media. We’re seeing a more informal, friendlier and warmer tone of voice coming to the fore in B2B akin to consumer marketing.

This is refreshing and long overdue. Understanding the subtle but profound differences required in driving an emotional connection for B2B over B2C customers will be one of the key factors in determining which B2B brands succeed in the 21st century.”

Emotion is the trump card when it comes to building brand experiences but it’s important you don’t underestimate the role of cognition or ‘thinking’, especially during the earlier stages of decision-making. For example, if you are not aware of a brand it will not come to mind when making a choice. With all the talk about emotion and brands I would encourage you to remember this point.

To appreciate why our decisions are primarily driven by the emotions we feel you need to understand two tightly connected regions of the brain: the prefrontal cortex and the limbic system.

The prefrontal cortex sits at the front of our brain and deals with cognitive functions such as decision making, evaluation, logic, working memory, reason, control and problem solving. The limbic system is a complex set of brain structures located in the depths of our brain that supports a variety of functions including our sense of smell, motivation, intuition, impulse, long-term memory and emotions. The fact that the limbic system deals with long-term memories and emotions is particularly important when it comes to building brand experiences. Why? When we make a decision, the front of our brain (prefrontal cortex) accesses our memory, and when we access our memory our brain sends electrical impulses to the limbic system to recall a brand-related emotion. This is important because when we make a decision, it’s not the memory of the brand that influences our choice but the emotion we feel associated with that brand in our memory. This is a subtle yet significant point.

Think about the last time you went out for dinner. Did the rude waiter make you feel uncomfortable? Was the food overpriced so you felt like you had been ripped off? Did the fly sitting proudly on top of your soup make you feel the restaurant was unhygienic? It’s not actually the memory of the waiter, food or fly that influences whether you would go back again, recommend the restaurant or send a mail the next day to complain; it’s the emotion you feel when you recall the experience. This is why the best brands in the world work hard to generate brand-related emotion.

Coca-Cola associating itself with the emotion of happiness is a classic example. Volvo helps people feel safe. Hallmark helps people feel loved. Ritz-Carlton helps people feel special. Armani helps people feel stylish. The list goes on but these brands understand the importance of creating an emotional connection as part of their brand experience-building efforts.

Contributed to Branding Strategy Insider by: Darren Coleman, excerpted from his new book Building Brand Experiences ©2018 with permission from Kogan Page Ltd.

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Sapareva Banya is only an hour away from Sofia which immediately puts it into the must-do day trips from the capital of Bulgaria. This small town is the best place to start your journey of Rila Mountain and its hidden treasures. Whether you want a laid back day in the mountain, a long hike, romantic weekend, or winter sports adventure, look no further and start planning from here! Waterfalls, lakes, ski slopes and beautiful mountain views are available throughout the whole year. Apart from the beautiful nature that is surrounding Sapareva Banya and providing numerous options for hikes, the town makes for a perfect weekend getaway also because of its many modern spas and mineral pools. What better way to spend the rest of the day after straining your muscles in the nature than to unwind in a hot water with healing properties (or that’s what the rumors say).

The hottest geyser

Can you make a wild guess trying to say where the hottest geyser in continental Europe is located? Island? Nope! It is right here in Bulgaria, in the small town of Sapareva Banya. It is the main attraction in the town and one that its citizens are probably most proud of. The geyser has a temperature of 103C and its water is used to heat most of the public buildings in the town. The water of the geyser comes out from a fountain in an almost rhythmical way while the steam surrounds the whole place beautifully and making Rila Mountain looks even more mystical in the background. Its majestic silhouette is guarding Sapareva Banya and is one of the first things you see once you enter the town.

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Sveti Nikola Church

Just a few minutes away from the Fountain, you can see a beautiful church hidden in a small park in the heart of the town. Its beautiful medieval architecture stands out and you just can’t pass by and miss it. The Byzantine feeling and the red brick construction with interesting details make it truly unique. It is not currently active so you can’t get inside. It serves as a religious and cultural monument.

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Skakavitsa Waterfall

The highlight of our day trip around Sapareva Banya and the area was Skakavotsa waterfall. It is the highest waterfall in Rila Mountain at 1750m above sea level. The water fall from 70m literally jumping around the high jagged rocks. The view is not just beautiful – it is powerful! During the winter the waterfall freezes and it makes for a great ice climbing spot for all of you adventure seekers with an experience. Best time to visit is around May-June when the water is at its highest.

Most of the hike is through the forest with the sound of the water accompanying us most of the time. The fresh air of the mountain is in such a stark contrast to the polluted air in the city. Far away from the hustle and bustle of the city you can relax close to the nature and spend a few hours (or a few days) exploring the surroundings.

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The challenging part of the hike is about 30 minutes and the rest was pretty laid back. The beautiful views around us, the fun talks our group shared as well as the excitement to finally reach Skakavitsa made conquering the trail pleasant even for someone like me who’s not very big on hiking. There’s also a hut with the same name where you can grab water or beer and recharge or have a lunch on your way down. The signs were pretty good so you will not have a problem finding the right way even if you’re not accompanied by someone who has already visited.

Resilovski Monastery

The convent is located between Sapareva Banya and Dupnitsa and was built between 1932 and 1940.  It is permanently active which means that you can visit the church inside. There are religious and residential buildings in this very quiet complex meaning there are women that has taken vows to serve God living there.

Goritsa Waterfall

After our previous hike, we were happy to hear that the next waterfall we were going to visit was only 15 minutes away from the parking lot. Judge me all you want, but I am kind of a lazy tourist sometimes! The short hike was through a beautiful path and we ended up in a small balcony-like view point with a gorgeous scenery of the Goritsa waterfall. A friend of mine told me they actually managed to go down to the water, so I guess that is an option as well, one that I would definitely appreciate on a hot summer day!

The village that the waterfall is located is called Ovchartsi and there are a few more waterfall but they are not that easily accessible. The legend tells a story of a young Bulgarian girl named Goritsa. She was the most beautiful girl in the area and the local Turkish ruler wanted to get her as a wife. She was in love with another guy and while desperately trying to escape the Turks that were chasing her she committed suicide and jumped from the cliffs. It is a common story you can hear about many peaks, cliffs, and waterfalls around the Balkans. ‘Goritsa’ also means a small forest and considering the area around the waterfall I think it is kinda suiting with or without the romantic legend. Now just imagine this view with the colorful Autumn palette!

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Explore Rila mountain – routes and hikes

The area around Sapareva Banya and especially the village Panichishte is a starting point to explore Rila mountain and its many wonders. The tourist info point of National Park Rila is located in Panichishte and there you can find more information about your preferred destination, hike, transportation or winter sports as well as learn some more about the flora and fauna of the mountain. Apart from Skakavitsa waterfall that I told you about above and the rest of the places we visited, there are a few more options in this area that will definitely catch your attention and leave you breathless when visiting Not only from the hiking but from the amazing views!

– This is where your journey to the famous Seven Rila Lakes begins. An iconic Bulgarian destination with magnificent views and stunning nature! You can walk all the way up from Panichishte or take the lift to the hut and explore the lakes one by one.

During our one day hike to the Urdini Lakes. Read more here.

– If you want to skip the crowds but still enjoy some gorgeous lakes in Rila mountain – head to the Urdini Lakes. They are a bit hidden and you will need a guide in order to explore safely, so read our experience and tips here.

– Probably the longest and most tiring hike that will take you the whole day or more is to the Rila Monastery. Don’t worry, there are huts where you can spend the night, just plan accordingly. Alternatively (and preferably), you can easily reach it by car. Whatever you choose, the monastery is definitely worth it and in my humble opinion, it is one of the most beautiful places in Bulgaria. You can even spend the night here and enjoy some peace and quiet. Read more about it here.

– Malyovitsa Hut and Malyovitsa Peak are a popular place for hiking enthusiasts and winter sports lovers. There are ski slopes and ski-lifts close by that you can take advantage of during the winter or have a picturesque hike during the warmer months.

Sapareva Banya – A Warm Day Trip from Sofia Sapareva Banya is only an hour away from Sofia which immediately puts it into the must-do day trips from the capital of Bulgaria.