#I WROTE NINETEEN PAGES TODAY IN LIKE THREE AND A HALF HOURS

[galaxythreads]

*cackling laughter*

chapter 13 of you screamed for so long we forgot to care anymore this Friday, December 23rd.

[bruhstories]

Sticky, Saccharine & Sinful

Summary: Professor Jaeger asks his assistant to come over and grade some papers. Pairing: Zeke Jaeger x Fem!Reader (modern AU) Warnings & Content: language, protected sex, fingering, oral sex (female & male receiving), spanking, daddy kink, bossy Zeke, bratty Reader, tying up, bit of an age gap but no underage shit (we don’t do that here) Word Count: 2.5 k

A/N: Huehuehue guess who finally wrote a daddy kink smut? Also I have looped Cherry Cola by Kuwada the entire time i wrote, proofread and formatted this bitch, I think it works with the atmosphere

"Y/N, I'm gonna need you to help me grade some papers later today." Professor Jaeger pushed his glasses with his index finger as he looked up from his book.

"You got it, boss!" You nodded as you entered the staff lounge room at Stohess Uni, two cups in your hands.

"How many times do I have to tell you to call me Zeke?" The man sighed. “Or at least call me professor.”

"But I'm your assistant, you're my superior, that makes you my boss, boss." Sarcasm dripping down your tongue as you placed his coffee down the table. "All black, two cubes of sugar."

"Thank you. And yes, technically I am your boss, but you're, what, six years younger than me?"

"Seven and a half." You pouted.

You've been working at Stohess University for a little over a year now as Zeke Jaeger's assistant. He was the best philosophy teacher, as well as head of the department, and you nailed your internship interview, aspiring to be like him one day. He even taught you Ethics during your masters, and currently you were doing your PhD research under his coordination. The man was a genius in his field, and you didn't dare disappoint him, but your personalities always clashed. He was calm and collected, you were bubbly and all over the place. He was nice and polite, you were sarcastic and rude. Zeke knew you'd make a horrible teacher for children, but undergraduate students would adore you.

"How can you drink hot coffee in this heat wave?" You asked him as you fanned someone's epistemology essay to cool yourself off.

"It's actually been proven that warm drinks hydrate better than cold ones during summertime." He inhaled the scent of freshly brewed coffee before taking the essay out of your hand.

"Whatever you say, boss." You shrugged and gulped on your iced tea, a few glistening amber drops dripping from the corners of your mouth, down your chin and your neck. "Ah, shit." You wiped the tea with the back of your hand, not catching Zeke watching you curiously. "Why did the AC have to break down today of all days?"

"Dunno." He shrugged and immersed himself back into his book. "Oh, I hope you don't mind coming to my place to grade the papers? I don't think you'll be able to focus in this heat. Besides, I want to take a look at your latest PhD chapter." Jaeger told you absentmindedly, eyes glued to the pages in front of him.

"Sure thing–"

"Don't say it."

"Boss."

"Jesus Christ..."

You adored pissing your ex-professor off, but deep down, Zeke couldn't deny the fact that he loved the authority he had over you. You were a very alluring woman, after all, and any sane man would kill to be as close to you as he was, let alone boss you around like he did. And he had the strong feeling you acted like a brat around him on purpose. You took your leave after downing the rest of your beverage, going to the library to borrow some books for your own research.

•°☆°•☆•°☆°•

You rang the intercom and waited for Zeke to let you inside the building, dragging your feet down the hallway, tired from carrying so much shit with you – laptop, books, essays, papers, pens and highlighters – you were a walking, talking stationery shop and one could only wonder how someone with such a petite frame was so strong. Zeke waited in the doorway and took some of your things, relieving the weight as you sighed.

"Coffee?" He guided you to his kitchen.

"Water, please." You plopped on a chair and unbuttoned the first three heart-shaped buttons of your lilac shirt, tiny beads of sweat bundled up at your collarbone.

"You sure? I'll be keeping you up all night." Jaeger laughed. He was obviously talking about the papers, but to you, the sentence had a different innuendo — not that you minded, you had your fair share of sinful fantasies with the older man. Come to think of it, you were wondering why he was single. Zeke was undoubtedly an attractive man, he could have any woman he wanted. Yet you’ve never seen him on a date, never seen a picture of a woman when you accidentally glanced at his phone, never heard him talk about a significant other.

"Hey, mind if I smoke?" You asked, noticing the ashtray on his table.

"Not at all, I'll join you." He sat opposite you, mug of coffee in his hand. You pulled out a pack of pink cigarettes from your backpack and placed one between your lips, pocketing your jeans for a lighter. His hand extended over the table, lighter in his hand, and you slightly bent your head forward, eyes glued to his. You inhaled the smoke, not breaking eye contact, and exhaled with a sigh. Something about Zeke lighting up your cigarette made your little cunt tingle.

"Thanks, boss." The corners of your lips turned into a barely visible smirk. You really, really liked to tick him off.

"Don't mention it." He told you before lighting his own cigarette. What, no comeback? No objection? "How's your paper going?"

"It's... going." You shrugged.

"You haven't written anything in your last chapter, have you?"

"No, I have," you half-whined, "it's just that I can't find my words. I think I encountered writer's block."

"'S alright, we'll figure something out." Zeke pulled a stack of papers from his briefcase and dropped it on the table.

"Wow, no shit you need help, that's a lot of papers." You twirled the cigarette between your fingers before taking one final puff and crushing it in the glass ashtray.

"Told you." He picked his resting cigarette back from the ashtray. "You can do the first years."

"I'd rather do something else." You whispered to yourself, eyes almost rolling at the back of your head.

"What was that?"

"Nothing, boss. First years, got it." Your manicured fingers pulled the stack of papers closer to you. The exams were already annotated according to subject and year and you took everything you needed before shoving them back to Zeke.

•°☆°•☆•°☆°•

You were bored out of your mind, fiddling with the red pen in your hand and tapping your fingers on the table with no particular rhythm. It was already dark outside and you barely finished a quarter of your stack while Zeke was halfway through his.

"Could you please stop that?" He asked you without even bothering to look at you.

"Why?"

"It's annoying."

With a groan you rolled your eyes and stopped tapping your fingers, instead opting to fidget your leg, bouncing it up and down under the table. The wooden furniture shook at the movement and Zeke sighed, putting the pen down.

"I understand you're bored, but if you want to be a professor, this is part of the job description."

"I know, I know, but, like, can we take a break? Please? We've been at it for two and a half hours now and I'm just so bored." You looked at him with puppy eyes and a pout on your plump lips.

"Ugh, fine. What do you want to do?"

"I dunno. Got any board games?"

"Only a pack of playing cards." Zeke shrugged.

"Perfect! Literally anything is better than this. I mean look at what this kid wrote: the ship of Theseus ARE a thought experiment. Can you believe it? How can a nineteen-year-old not know proper grammar?"

"Careful, Y/N," he chuckled, "you made a pretty embarrassing error during your masters, too."

"Nooo, don't bring that up!" You got up and walked to the freezer, scanning the contents.

"Why not? It's funny."

"Yeah, for you." You rolled your eyes. "But I still proved my worth." You triumphantly told him, tongue playfully poking out of your mouth from behind the freezer door. Ugh, you were so cute, made to be ravaged. Your eyes settled on the single raspberry popsicle and you picked it up, closing back the door. "Can I have this?" Oh, he knew exactly what you were doing.

"Of course."

With Zeke's approval, you unwrapped the plastic, revealing the rose-tinted dessert, swirling your tongue around its tip. You were a sight for sore eyes, (not so) innocently licking at the popsicle, your gaze on him and his growing bulge. He didn't even bother hiding it, instead relaxing in the chair and drinking you in. It was no mistake that Zeke invited you over, and you weren't stupid enough to believe it was a mistake.

"Do you... want some?" You trailed off as the once cold dessert began melting from your hot lips.

"If you'd be so kind." He patted his lap and you accepted the invitation. His bulge was comfortably uncomfortable against your ass, and you put the popsicle onto his lips, one arm draped around his shoulder. Zeke's tongue moved languidly around the sweet snack and you leaned in, your own tongue licking both the dessert and his lips. It was sticky and saccharine and sinful, and your poor pussy couldn't take it anymore.

"Do you wanna fuck me, daddy?" You naively asked him. He wasn't surprised in the slightest by the name, already suspecting you had daddy issues, in fact counting on it.

"I very much do." His hands were already roaming your body. The popsicle was almost gone, and you deepthroated the last bit, taking the little stick out of your mouth with a pop. Finally, he crushed his lips onto yours and you could tell he had experience. You dropped the stick on the tiled floor, twisting your body to better straddle him. Zeke unbuttoned your shirt as you slowly began grinding your hips against his bulge, earning a groan from him. "Ugh, you bad girl." He threw his head back as you loosened the tie around his neck.

"Are you going to punish me?" You slowly, too slowly unbuttoned his shirt.

"What’s the point of a punishment if you’re going to enjoy it?" He mused, unclasping your bra. You had goosebumps all over your skin and Zeke took one of your nipples in his hot mouth, a hand pinching your other one. You whimpered at the slight stinging sensation

"Does it m-matter if I enjoy it?" His touch became rougher, almost animalistic.

"Of course," he stopped sucking your swollen, oversensitive nipple, "otherwise you won't learn your lesson." You got up and turned around, your back against him, taking your jeans and underwear off, bending down and exposing your cunt to him. "You're going to be the death of me, Y/N." Zeke shook his head, removing his own trousers.

"Allow me." You tucked your fingers behind the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down as you kneeled in front of him. His throbbing cock tapped your face after finally being unleashed from its textile cage.

"I suspected you were big, but this? This is too good." You sneered at his member, mesmerised by its size.

"Just shut up and suck it." Zeke pretty much commanded you and you wet your lips, pressing your tongue against the velvety tip. You worked your way around his shaft, enjoying this more than you should've. You pulled back, a string of saliva and precum attached to your lips as you looked up at him.

"Am I doing good, daddy?"

"So good." He grabbed a fistful of your hair and pushed your head back. You eagerly sucked and slurped until he got bored of your mouth around his cock. Zeke pulled you up, spun you around and bent you over the table. He brought your wrists together and tied them up behind your back with his tie before taking a step back and admiring the view. Ass up, face down, just like he loved it. His foot pushed yours to the side, spreading your legs for him before he gave you a good slap over your ass cheeks. You shot up with a moan but his hand forced you back down against the table.

"I think I know exactly how to punish you." Zeke announced, two fingers spreading your folds as his tongue dove inside of you, lapping at your wet cunt.

"Oh, God!" You groaned in pleasure. No man has ever eaten you out like he did. Most guys did it as a chore. Zeke? He was enjoying every single bit of it, passionately fingering you, his tongue moving in ways you didn't think were possible. "Ah, fuck– so good! Daddy, please! I'm coming!"

The way he venomously laughed told you that no, you were not going to come any time soon. Just as you were about to let loose, Zeke stopped, removing his fingers, another slap on your ass. Tears pooled at your Y/E/C eyes, frustration written all over your face. "No, no, no!"

"I told you, Y/N, you're a bad, bad girl." He bent over and whispered in your ear, his cock pressing against your entrance, his hand in your hair.

"Oh, pleaseee, I need to come! Will you let me come?"

"Hm, it depends." Jaeger straightened his back, hands resting on your hips. "Did you learn your lesson?"

"Yes, yes, daddy, I did! I promise I'll be good!" You tried to turn around to look at him, oblivious to what he was doing behind your back, cheeks crimson, droplets of sweat on your forehead.

"Convincing enough." He shrugged and you heard the condom snap against his cock.  Unexpectedly and without any warning, the man thrusted into your wet cunt and you, again, shot up, but he pinned you back. "Stay fucking put, you little whore." Zeke demanded and you tried, you really tried, but your body had a mind of its own. "I see you refuse to learn."

"No, no, please!" You slammed your face onto the table, squishing your cheek in the process, desperate and helpless.

"That's better." He concluded, sarcasm dripping down his tongue as he rammed his cock deeper into you. The silken walls clenched around his hard member, and he grunted, no other woman pleasing him like your tight pussy did. "You like it when I take you from behind, you filthy slut?"

"Yes– oh my God, YES!" You bucked your hips against his for more pressure and pain.

"What would my students think if they saw you getting fucked like this on their papers?"

"Ah– I don't c-care!"

"What would the headmaster say if she knew you fuck your superior and- ugh- coordinator?" Jaeger thrusted harder and faster.

"Please, Zeke-"

His hand found its way to your neck, tightly squeezing it.

"Wrong name, Y/N."

"Shit, daddy!"

"That's right, I'm your fucking daddy and hell will freeze before someone else fucking touches you!"

"Fuc-k, fuuuck!" You both howled and panted as you climaxed, your entire bodies quivering. Zeke pulled out of you, carefully removing the rubber from his cock and giving you another slap on your perky ass cheeks. You stood up, arms still tied around your back, turned on your heels and pecked him on his cheek, giggling like a schoolgirl, marvelled by the fact that he chose you over anyone else.

"You know what, Y/N? Now that I've found you, I'm never going to let you go." He promised.

"I'm all yours, boss."

[mossflowermouse]

[As with the third part, I wrote this post several months ago while reading WCaHSS for the first time]

Fourth and final post of my thoughts while reading ‘When Chist and His Saints Slept’. (part one, part two, part three). I read most of this part in one sitting, so it’s a bit of a mess and I gave up on trying to separate the chapters partway through.

In this part, nobody dies, ever, and they’re all happy. Robert gets to see his grandchild grow up. Matilda lives to see peace. Brien...um. Yeah I honestly don’t know how to fix that without rewriting 25ish years of history.

XXXI-XXXIII

Ancel confronting Ranulf. Oh dear.

Enjoying all the scenes of Stephen, Matilda, de Ypres and Bishop Henry deciding matters (and not just because the trusted inner circle is literally "extremely close family and William de Ypres"

"Stephen had been closeted all morning with his wife, his brother, and William de Ypres, gloomily assessing their options." What did I just say about this little group and how well-trusted de Ypres is. I appreciate the narration laying it out as clearly as that.

Matilda's worried that something's wrong with him :(

And Chester, having been freed, has now switched sides once again (now loyal to Maude's son Henry). I think by this point he's definitely racked up more betrayals than the Bishop.

Ypres is going blind. I hope Matilda was able to reassure him about what would happen.

XXXIV-XXXVI

Oh my god. Okay. Henry, now 14, invaded England, couldn't pay his troops, and ended up writing to STEPHEN for help with payment. And Stephen agreed. Wow. This family.

That was quite the list of barons going off on crusade - mostly Stephen's supporters, unless I'm mistaken.

Annora's pregnant and Ranulf's being reckless.

He saw Annora but didn't speak to her. I think that's that.

Oh no he's back and being asked if he's heard. Heard what. I'm very afraid to turn the page.

Gilbert's dead. After everything he'd survived.

No. Oh no. Ranulf's gone to Bristol and Robert is apparently dying. That was my main fear a few pages back, that if someone was dead it was Robert - Ranulf's close to him and he's older than most of them.

Robert's dead. His family was there, though, and Maude arrived just in time with her son. I'm getting a little choked up.

Aww, Stephen and Matilda and Ypres <3 it’s really sweet seeing how much all three of them trust and care about each other by now

XXXVII

Ranulf's gone and nobody knows where.

Maude and Brien :( this entire scene. Just. My heart.

So this is Maude's final goodbye to England and the people there.

Brien and Adeliza and Hugh watching her ship from the beach even after everyone else has left 

everyone on the ship finding somewhere to shelter during the crossing and Adeliza and Hugh finally leaving and then it’s just Maude and Brien still looking out over the sea until they can’t see each other any more

something something Brien something something England I’m too emotional to even look for symbolism in this right now

That was a very depressing few chapters. I'm in mourning not just for Robert, but for everything that's been lost.

XXXVIII-XLII (a mix of ‘too gripping to write stuff’ and ‘I’m still emotionally compromised by the many things that happened leading to Maude’s departure’)

Maude's seen her sons for the first time in eight years.

I'd assumed Ranulf would come back eventually, but what if he doesn't?

Loth! No!

I like all the people Ranulf's meeting

XLIII, XLIV

Henry and Ranulf's campaign is really driving home how long this war has gone on for - half their powerful allies are the now-grown children of Maude's allies (plus Harry and Eustace themselves were children at the start of this war). But also they're all so young.

Poor citizens of Lincoln. Again.

Oh wow, Geoffrey did something good. I'll concede that he's generally been a good father, but pretty much everything else about him means it was still kind of a surprise that he'd give Henry his title of Duke of Normandy.

XLV

Rhodri is suggesting Ranulf marry Eleri and Rhiannon's upset :(

(Also it's kind of weird from a modern perspective because first cousins, and Ranulf brought up that they'd need a papal dispensation in England, but I'm going to try and see this from the point of view of 12thc rural Wales)

Ranulf wants to marry Rhiannon, not Eleri! Yay!

Wait, will he be going back to Normandy at all? Does Maude get to see him again? (I'm assuming Maud and Harry will because they'll be in England and easier to visit.)

And he's going to tell Rhiannon :)

Ranulf's 31? What. When did this happen. Rationally I know how much time this book's covered, but it's difficult to not still think of him as 18/19. Or even as the toddler Stephen stopped from falling into the sea.

XLVI

Timeskip, and Ranulf and Maud are visiting Maude!

...grieving? Who's dead this time?

Ranulf and Rhiannon are going to have a kid :)

"A friend of your mother's has died." I'm narrowing it down to Brien and Adeliza. Possibly Amabel. Doesn't bode well regardless.

BRIEN NO :( and Adeliza's already died apparently.

:( :( :(

Truce with Louis of France - and Henry's mention of the chance he'll meet Eleanor of Aquitaine for the first time reminds me, they're going to be married at some point. His line seems a bit meta.

There she is!!! Finally!

A blur of the remaining 200 pages:

I like her already

Ooh, so their eventual marriage was Eleanor's idea.

Geoffrey's dying. I feel bad for Henry, but also am not remotely as upset as for the various other deaths.

MATILDA OH NO

She's apparently ill and asking to see her confessor. Please no.

Matilda :(

(also side note that she died on my birthday)

And the monks are grieving too. The description of the funeral :(

William de Ypres just showed up to visit her tomb. I cannot take any more sadness today.

Henry and Eleanor may have underestimated the opposition to their marriage (and I wasn't expecting Geoff to actually switch sides, certainly not so soon)

Maude's lost so much.

(But also, aww, nice scene with her and Will)

They've won the war with Louis. That was fast.

Good lord, Stephen almost ordered the death of a five-year-old. Also wow Marshal, that was quite a gamble.

Stephen's besieging Wallingford; Henry's going to its aid. They're all talking about its symbolic value, and I agree (and am a little sad every time someone mentions Brien - it may have been over a year for them, but I only got to his death a few hours ago). It's also making me think the end might be near, and not just because there's less than a hundred pages (and two years of Stephen's reign) remaining - iirc, the Stephen-Henry succession was formalised by the Treaty of Wallingford.

Will and Roger joining Henry and Rainald to free Wallingford is giving me emotions about the people who didn't live to see the end of this war.

I really love this part with Stephen and Ypres:

they’ve come so far and trust each other so much and I can feel Matilda’s ghost in this scene because this never would have happened without her

His first loyalty is still to Matilda, when he’s thinking about Eustace he refers to him as “Matilda’s son”, my heart

Of all the ways I was expecting Eustace to go, choking on lamprey eels was not one of them.

Eleanor's had her child!

Twelve years since Winchester. It doesn't feel like that much, probably because I was reading that part yesterday. (yikes I've read about half this book in two days, it's too good)

Rumour has it that Chester's dying. Like Ranulf, I'm finding that hard to take in - he's just the sort of person who doesn't seem killable, by disease or person. And he's grown on me over the last few hundred pages.

The agreement's been reached. I'm glad it was in Winchester.

Henry's just met Thomas Becket. I look forward to seeing this go horrifically wrong in the next book.

Aaand there's a conspiracy to kill Henry. Because nothing can ever just go straightforwardly well in the 1100s.

Stephen's dying.

@de Ypres would it kill you to admit to having an emotion

Okay, I have tears in my eyes from that line about Maude  - "a smile nineteen years overdue"

The end.

[fandom-meanderer]

Oh my goodness I'm gushing over the male!reader X Linhardt scenario you wrote! It's so cute! But what if Mr. Coolest of Garreg Mach showed Sylvain the ways of being cool? 👀

It seems the Mr. Coolest of Garreg Mach saga continues!

Companion piece to [this]

~

“Alright, Sylvain. I’m not going to go easy on you,” you warn. Sylvain just nods his head.

“I’m ready, (Name).”

“Okay, lesson one is the hardest, Sylvain, are you absolutely sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure!”

“Can you get on with it? (Name) says I can’t sleep until you complete all three lessons,” Linhardt yawns.

“Come on! Hit me already, (Name)!”

Lesson One

“You have to go three hours without flirting with anyone.”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Time starts...” You gesture towards Linhardt. He clicks a pocket watch.

“Now,” he finishes. You loop your arm in Linhardt’s and you two walk off together.

“Wait, you can’t just leave me here!” Sylvain panics.

“You’ll be fine! And don’t think we’re not watching, we have spies everywhere,” you say, entering the dining hall. “Good luck Sylvain!”

He’s really doing this. Wow, he’s really working on becoming as cool as Mr. Coolest in Garreg Mach. Okay, he can do this. No flirting. Easy.

“Hey, Sylvain!” A rather cute student waved to him.

“H-” He felt a sudden chill. Someone was watching him. He looked around the courtyard, who was it? Who was the spy? Who was reporting to you as he was freaking out? Okay, just two hours, fifty-eight minutes, and twenty-three seconds left.

He’ll survive.

It was Caspar, by the way.

Lesson Two

You and Linhardt find Sylvain collapsed in front of the altar in the Cathedral.

“So he can nap and I can’t?”

“He’s not napping, he’s praying,” you snicker. You nudge him with your shoe gently. “Hey, Sylvain, you made it. Three hours are up, buddy.”

“I did?” His voice sounded hoarse.

“Yeah, come on, it’s time for lesson two.” Sylvain jumped up with a new found vigor and looked at you intensely.

“I’m ready.”

“You sure? Looks like lesson one really took its toll on you,” you worry.

“I’m fine. I can handle it.”

“He’s really persistent,” Linhardt frowns. “Don’t be too hard on him.”

“Don’t worry, I’m going way easy on him,” you whisper. “Okay, Sylvain. Lesson two. We’re in the chapel already, so this makes things so much easier.”

“What do you mean...?”

“Well, just outside this area happens to be the largest population of the Monastery’s resident cats, right? Well, I need you to bring twenty of them to me.”

“How does this make me cooler?”

“Well, I mean,” you whistle and twenty cats flooded to you. “It works for me.” In another whistle the cats scattered.

“What the hell...”

“See you in a bit, Sylvain,” you wave him off, finally giving in to Linhardt’s pulling.

“Wait, shouldn’t you be here so I know where you are?”

“Looks like you’re just going to have to find me,” you shrug. Sylvain frantically called for you even as you exited the grand doors.

“You know, you could’ve just told him that we’re going to wait outside.”

“Nah, he’s smart, he’ll figure that out.”

~

“Hello, Mr. Cat,” Sylvain slowly walks up to a tabby cat, prepared to grab him. The cat looks over its shoulder lazily. Intrigued by what the hell this kid wanted with it. He moved closer to Sylvain. “That’s it, just come closer, little buddy.” Once he was in an arms reach, Sylvain grabbed him.

“ONE DOWN NINETEEN TO GO!” He ran around collecting cats, not even caring about the amount of scratches and scars he was receiving. 

“That’s no way to make friends with the cats...” Ashe frowns. “I really hope (Name) knows what he’s doing.” He worriedly watches Sylvain pick up another cat and sighs. He really only agreed to do this because he was worried about what Sylvain would do. Now, his friend just looks... sad. He’s never this persistent when he’s trying to charm the other school girls. 

Finally, Sylvain had twenty cats under his arms when he made a mad dash to find you and get away from this hell. What he didn’t notice, however, is that he ran right past you and across the bridge.

“Should we... should we tell him?” Linhardt asks.

“No. He’ll be back.”

“That’s cruel...”

“He’s the one who wanted to be cool, right?”

Final Lesson

Sylvain stumble up the steps of the Cathedral and found you sitting on the ground next to Linhardt. Your boyfriend was snoozing away peacefully with his head on your shoulder and you were writing down notes on a piece of parchment. Sylvain dumped the cats in front of you, each of the mewling angrily.

“Here... Here are your damn cats...” He huffs. You whistle and the cats sit next to you.

“You turned up better than I was expecting, Sylvain,” you laugh. You watched the sun begin to set behind him while you nudge Linhardt softly and he opens his eyes lazily and sits up. “One last lesson, Sylvain. It’s not too late to opt out, you know.”

“Are you kidding me? I’m covered in claw marks. It looks like I’m having an affair. I have nothing left to lose.”

“Alright, then, follow me.” The three of you walk for a short moment before ending up at the arena of the final battle, so to say.

“The Library?” Sylvain cocks his head.

“During your first lesson, Lin and I came up here and marked the insides of certain books with a star sticker, luckily, we just placed them in the front covers.

“That was my idea, if I didn’t say anything you would’ve had to dig through all of the books,” Linhardt adds in.

“Yup. So now your job is to find all of those books, read the star marked passages, and write me a paper telling me what they each had in common to one another. And since this is your final lesson, we decided to make it the hardest.”

“How so?”

“We’re not going to tell you how many books are marked, or how many passages are marked.”

“Goddess please forgive me...”

“You can still opt out, Sylvain.”

“No! I won’t!”

“Okay, all I can say now is good luck then. And don’t worry about what Professor Byleth will think, Lin and I already got that covered.”

“Good night, Sylvain,” Linhardt says. He walks with you out of the library and you shut the doors softly.

“There is a reason behind all of this... right, (Name)?” Linhardt asks,

“Yup. I know I said this is the final lesson, but I’ll quiz him tomorrow on what he thinks the purpose of these lessons were.”

“So you aren’t just making him suffer?”

“Of course not, Sylvain is a good friend of mine, after all.”

“If you say so, (Name).”

~

“Okay... okay I can do this.” Sylvain looks around the library. Then, another knock at the door. It creaks open slowly and Felix walks in.

“What is it that you got yourself into, Sylvain?” He asks.

“I asked (Name) to show me how he became so cool, so he set up these three lessons for me. This is the last one,” Sylvain says, opening his first book.

“So that’s why you’ve been running around like a chicken with its head cut off.”

“Yeah... I don’t suppose you can help me, can you?”

“Even if I could I wouldn’t.”

“Right... Of course,” Sylvain opens his second book. Still no dice. He sighed. It was going to be one hell of a night.

Conclusion

You and Linhardt walked into the Library the next morning and found Sylvain just finishing up the paper. He had forty two books next to him, the correct number of books that you and Linhardt had marked the day before. Sylvain pushed the ten page essay toward you.

“It’s done.”

“Alright,” you take the essay and read through the first couple of paragraphs. “Tell me, Sylvain, what did you learn from these lessons?”

“What did I... what now?”

“What did you learn?” Sylvain looks at you and cocks his head. “Sylvain, I’m not going to make you do these things for no reason. So tell me, what did you get out of it?” Sylvain pondered for a moment, then it hit him.

“The first lesson, you told me not to do the one thing I always do, flirting. At first, all I could think of is ‘what does this have to do with becoming cool?’ But now that I reflect on it, it was as if you were training me to hold back.”

“Mmhmm.”

“For lesson two, I didn’t notice it until I was making my way back to the cathedral, but the cats really started liking me once I put them down and let them just follow. All I had to do was be nice to them, then I didn’t have to force them to come.”

“You’re on the right track, Sylvain.”

“And for this final lesson, it really reminded me of you. Because you have this weird uncanny ability of being able to put things that have no relevance together to make something better. Hence the completely different books and the one paper I had to make on them.”

“Wow, you actually got it,” Linhardt was surprised, to say the least. You hand the paper to him and smile at Sylvain.

“Well, there you have it, Sylvain. Now you know how I became the apparent ‘Coolest in Garreg Mach’.”

“That’s... that’s it?”

“Yup. I didn’t pull any strings to become cool, I just decided to be myself.”

“Huh...” Sylvain sighed. “Sorry, man, but that’s a lot of work I did for a kind of underwhelming answer.”

“I’m not disagreeing, Sylvain, but that’s really the truth. When you walk around the halls today, why don’t you pay more attention to how people interact with you? Like I said, I didn’t make you do these for no reason.”

“O-Okay...”

“I’ll see you later, bud!” You and Linhardt walk off again, leaving Sylvain behind. He walks over to the table and nudges Felix awake.

“Well... did you get your answer?” He asks groggily.

“Yeah... I think I did.”

“Can I go now?”

“Yup.”

“Finally,” Felix pushes himself up. “Just for the record, Sylvain, I really didn’t think you had to do all that yesterday. You’re... you’re already cool as is.”

“What was that? What did you say?” Sylvain stopped in his tracks and looked over to the half asleep Felix.

“Don’t make me say it again, Sylvain!” He grumbles. He picks up the pace and walks ahead of Sylvain. “Now come on, the Professor is going to be mad that we’re late.”

“Okay, okay!” Sylvain couldn’t stop the huge smile forming on his face.

Despite the all nighter he pulled, Sylvain felt like he was ready to take on the world right now. He felt great, energized, and so cool right now. Huh, maybe he could even compete with you for the title someday? Nah.

[skgway]

1824 Mar., Fri. 12

6 1/4

11 40/60

Soon after I got up, and gently, my cousin came – Gave Hotspur oatmeal and water – From 8 10/60 to 9, wrote out from page 148 to 153 volume 2 Anacharsis – The morning so snowy none of the workmen came. Cleared up a little about 9 – 

Went out for a few minutes after having called I[sabella] N[orcliffe] – and spoke to Washington who went to measure the new footpath along the wood etc. to the Dolt, to be ready if such measurement should be wanted – 

Sat down to breakfast at 9 1/2 – Alluding to what Mrs. P [Priestley] said yesterday, what large fortunes Marian and I would have, and saying they doubtless supposed all would eventually centre in Marian, as I should not marry. My uncle said no, if she was going to marry I should tell them she had not a sixpence more to expect than what she got from her father. ‘Your uncle Joseph wished it to go to the name and so do I.’ 

He wished me to do something to secure it, and I promised. I said I was glad he expressed himself, s[ai]d decidedly I should say what had been his wish, and that I acted accordingly or all the world would abuse me like a pickpocket. In fact, I shall not be at liberty of conscience to leave the estate to Marian or her mamily, when I so know my uncle means me to give it to the Listers in Wales – 

At 11, took the plan of the footpaths, and set off to Halifax. Went to Mr. James Briggs, Mr. Horton’s clerk, as advised yesterday by Mr. W[illiam] P[riestley]– Not at home – went there following and called at the Saltmarshe’s – Mrs. Catherine Rawson there. 

Sat with Mrs. S– [Saltmarshe] and her about 10 minutes – then took my leave, fancying them not sorry – I have long perceived a reserve in Mrs. S– [Saltmarshe]’s manner to me – It strikes me more and more, and I less and less like calling there. Seemed even something of the same in Mrs. Catherine R– [Rawson]. 

Called, as I went, at the bank and desired them to make out my account –  Called for it on having the S– [Saltmarshe]s’ – I have now got a banking-book, in which my account will be regularly settled 1/2 yearly – The balance in my favour including three half years interest is sixteen pounds nineteen shillings – 

Went to Whitley’s and staid a long while reading advertisements etc. Among the rest “The sweepings of my study” by the author of the Hundred Wonders – In awe of the very early pages, there is a hit against Dr. Todd’s new (large) edition of Johnson’s dictionary and some amusing observations on the change of their uncouth-sounding names by several authors – Maclaughlin to Macklin Mills to Morton etc. etc. – 

Went again to Mr. James Briggs and found him at home – Shewed him the plan of the footpaths – He thinks these will have no difficulty in getting that down our court-yard, turned down the Dolt, so we shall want no new track – Mr. Wiglesworth to send him the plan a few days before the view, and he will shew and explain it to Mr. Horton –

Then went to Mr. Wiglesworths office – Washington waiting there – Mr. W[ashington] not at home – spoke to Mr. Parker – Sent him down with Washington to shew the plan and speak to Mr. Carr about stopping the footpath along the brook, and going partly thro’ the Godley land – This to appear done to please and serve Mr. Carr, who sometime ago wished my uncle to join him in the expense of stopping it – Mr. C– [Carr] very glad and much obliged – Of course, for he will now get it done for nothing – 

Returned up the old bank and got home about 1 1/2 – Talking to my uncle and aunt 1/2 hour talking to I[sabella] N[orcliffe] – 1/2 hour upstairs before she set off to walk (as usual), to Halifax – From 2 1/2 to 4 I had 1/4 hour’s nap – Translated chapters 54, 55 and wrote out the first 9 lines of chapter 54 libro ii Thucydides – Dressed etc. and sat down to dinner at 4 1/4 – 

Just before had a (brought I know not how) from Savile Hill – an Armenian grammar sent me to look at along with a kind note from Miss Pickford (11 Gloucester Row, Clifton, Bristol) – The note in Miss P– [Pickford]’s usual pithy style – Everything necessary contained in less than one page of a halfsheet note – 

She hopes I had no occasion to go to Manchester – as if I did go, that it was of radical use. “It would really oblige me if you would merely, in the most concise terms, let me know per means of pen, ink, paper, and post” ..... 

Came upstairs after dinner at 6 1/2 – 1/2 hour talking to I[sabella] N[orcliffe] – Then in 3/4 hour wrote all this journal of today – Went down to coffee at 8 50/60 – Afterwards wrote out the remainder of chapter 54 and the whole of chapter 55 libro ii Thucydides – 

Came upstairs at 10 10/60 at which hour Barometer 5 1/2 degree below changeable Fahrenheit 39 1/20º – Perpetual showers of snow and rain, of rain, and snow, during the day – The ground whitened tonight – I escaped pretty well while out this morning – Behindhand the same as yesterday (vide the last line of the journal) –

[itssieramitchie]

The Things I Wish I Said

Most of you that follow me don’t know me personally. In fact, most of you probably followed me when all I did was post about my undying love for One Direction. My life has been nothing short of semi-amusing and hilariously tragic events that have led me to this point in my life today. To make a very long story short, I had the unfortunate pleasure of feeling romantic love for the first time a little over two years ago. As you could probably tell from my tone, things ended in such a horrible way that I’m still holding onto the pain all these years later.

Like most things that have happened to me, I decided to cope with this by writing. A few months after the bad thing happened, I wrote a three-page, sappy note called “The things I’ll never say.” It was a mixture of recollecting the key events that made me fall for him and things that I wanted him to know, yet knew I would never tell him. As a way of making peace with the situation, I was going to type it up and post it. However, tonight I’m feeling different. Tonight I feel angry and used and absolutely forgotten. So, in honor of my emotions, I’m going to delight you all with The Things I Should Have Said:

I remember the last time you and I talked. To be honest, I started a conversation with you that night because I was nosey, not your friend. I saw things begin to crumble around you and I had to know what was happening because the horrible side of me needed to know that someone else had suffered like I had. Our conversation was through the privacy of our phone screens, yet still the most awkward thing in the world. I’ll never be more angry than I was at you that night. We had so much unfinished business and neither of us knew what to do with it. You asked me that one question. The one question you knew the answer to. Why were you mad at me? At this point you were with somebody else. I was aware of this and I still decided to unleash my feelings. It was the first time I had ever admitted emotion like that to someone. Even though it was too late, I still think it was the bravest thing I have ever done. The sick part about all of this was that you already knew the answer. You drove it out of me because you wanted to hear me say it. Admit that I had feelings for you. I was upset, but I downplayed everything. I did it because, even though you already moved on, you gave me the empty promise that we could still be friends. I obliged. Truthfully, you did not deserve my nice side. It took me cutting you off completely and two years of half-ass recovery to get to where I am now. If I could do it all over, this is what I would have said instead:

Fuck off. Fuck all the way off. After all that’s been said and done, how can you honestly suggest being friends? When you and I started growing closer, we told each other everything. I told you stories that not even my best friends at the time knew about me. I told you about the damage. The scars. I trusted you so much that I told you about the time that I almost offed myself. You did nothing but sit there and let me talk and vent and be vulnerable. Nobody in my life had ever let me be that way before and it was comforting. I was so scared of you because I felt myself falling and I did nothing to stop myself from doing so. I was absolutely addicted to the rush that you gave me. You were my dirty little secret and I was okay with that. Now, I could sit here and remind you of all the little things that made me feel loving towards you, but things are different now. They’re cold and distant. I strongly believe that you had some sort of loving feelings toward me at some point. Even if it wasn’t as strong as my feelings or reciprocated in the same way, I still believe you were capable of it on some level. The way a look would linger for a second too long or even the way that you’d text me at all hours of the day. It was more than a friendly way. However, I’ll never truly know because you will never tell me so. You’re with her now. I truly hate that about you. You know what I wanted to hear and you purposely keep that information from me. You would never tell me how you felt about me because you don’t want to ever hurt your true love. I get that and it’s what I hate and love about you the most. You are so good to others - Well at least that’s what I used to think.

I’ve had plenty of time to think over moments that I once used to romanticize. Nowadays, I resent every damn thought of you. When I think about it, you were quite a manipulative person. You were also a close friend with personal victimization. I was barely an adult when I fell for you and you knew. You were an absolute idiot, but you weren’t dumb. You had to have known that a naive nineteen year old was falling for you. I was painfully obvious. You made such poor decisions that have hurt so many people. I have always blamed myself for what happened and I hate it because I know in the back of my head that it was a bunch of immature adults that ruined lives, not me. At first I downplayed how I felt because I didn’t want you to think I was crazy, but fuck that. I hate you. I absolutely hate everything about you. Who did you think you were to sleep with someone’s wife? Who were you to claim that you loved me and then brought me to the point of breakdown. Not a day goes by where I don’t regret letting you know how I felt, however, you never deserved to hear a nice thing from me.

I saw a quote today that read “I didn’t realize how good of an actress I was until I had to pretend I was happy you were dating someone else”. Even after you hurt me, I still wanted the absolute best for you. I wanted happiness for you. That’s how I knew I was in love. I wanted greatness for you even though most people would say you didn’t deserve it. You turned me into something scary. I don’t trust people. I think there’s always some underlying, evil thing that’s going to happen in every relationship I ever have, whether it’s romantic or platonic. I push everyone away that cares about me. I’m amazing with hiding my feelings. I’m scared that if I reveal too much, people will get mad at me. Everyone blames me for what happened. I was the crazy one. I overreacted at everything. I should have spoken up. And how did you repay me? You sent me a DM asking if I was okay. A. God. Damn. DM. You didn’t even have the decency to call. I bet you felt fine after that. Not an ounce of guilt running through your veins. And you know why you didn’t have to care about me anymore? You met her. You didn’t have to care anymore. It didn’t matter that I had been there for you at all times of the day while you had several mental breakdowns over the course of six months. You found someone else to fulfill your emotional needs. So tell me, just how easy am I to abandon?

So what now? You made a horrible decision that essentially ruined me and you got rewarded with everything you ever wanted. You have the best wife. You have a better job. A nice house. A baby on the way. On the other hand, I still suffer from your decisions. Because of you, I’m scared of the world. I don’t trust anyone. I don’t believe I’m worthy of being cared for. I haven’t fathomed trying to date anyone. I’m inclined to think that people are only ever out to get me. Every day, the concept of “love” becomes less and less attractive to me. I know what I felt for you was love, so, in that case, I never wish to feel it again. As morbid as it is, I think that never being in love again would be viable. You have caused me so much pain that some days death is seductive.

As for my farewell, I don’t wish you a happy ending. I may sound like the most bitter person in the person in the world. It’s because that’s what you make me feel like. I hope that you at least think of me sometimes and how awful of a person you were to be so careless with my heart. You never deserved me and I hope your heart breaks like mine has. That’s everything I should have said to you.

Thank you for teaching me that love does not exist for me.

[readingsrantsrambles]

Pictures at Work

Carmen Winant

“The year 1974 was a special odyssey for me,” the journalist and photographer Betty Medsger wrote in the introduction to her book Women at Work:

I traveled throughout the United States photographing and talking with women mining coal, running corporations, taking bosses’ letters, chopping down trees, stitching blue jeans and designing nuclear submarines. I did this because I wanted to document the very wide range of work being done by American women today. I wanted to convey real images of ourselves, rather than the stereotypes we regularly are fed by the mass media.

Medsger was clear-eyed about the aims and limitations of her project. “I am not saying that every job you will see in Women at Work is a good job,” she wrote. “Indeed, there is some work represented here that you may feel no living creature should be doing. Rather, Women at Work is a statement of what exists. I hope it will help destroy any neatly divided stereotypes of ‘women’s work’ and ‘men’s work.’”

The Print Center

Her aims were explicitly feminist, and as she photographed her subjects she uncovered their perspectives on the movement. Rita Cox, a nineteen-year-old truck driver, told Medsger, “It’s hard when you meet guys socially. When they find out I’m a trucker, they say, ‘Oh, a women’s libber,’ and walk away.” She lied to men, she said, telling them she was a secretary or a hair stylist. Despite her disavowal of feminism, Cox admitted that “the women’s liberation movement probably has affected me, too. Some nights I work twelve hours and don’t get home ’til 5 a.m. And then a few hours later my boyfriend might come in and ask me to fix him a sandwich. Now I tell him…‘You have two hands, make your own sandwich.’” Medsger understood “work” broadly. Describing a photograph of a woman giving birth, she noted that the picture shows “not just the midwife, but also the mother, both very much at work.”

I found a worn copy of Women at Work somewhere between western Pennsylvania and Southern California in what I can only assume was a used bookstore. Once home, I sliced the book apart, carefully running my scissors through its pages, keeping the images intact while disconnecting them from their source. What’s leftover feels like a box of empty windows. I purchased another copy of the publication (this time online), which I have kept more or less intact. Even I—whom my partner, Luke, calls the book butcher—can be sentimental in this way.

The Print Center

The other two components of the job puzzle—also in sleeves but half the size—are on red card stock (job description) and blue card stock (salary range and possible benefits). Clients played the game by matching up three pieces from the larger deck into a complete concordant set. The game is a response to the essential importance of financial independence for those escaping domestic violence, which is frequently contingent on victims’ financial dependence on their abusers.

The Print Center

To find this game, this job puzzle, in WIT’s archive was a revelation. In it I saw familiar pictures (that my hand had also excised, many years earlier) and familiar working methods (centering pictures as a learning tool). I work this way in the studio, matching and pairing like images, hoping to learn something or to surprise myself. I play this way with my children, too—or rather, I watch them play this way. It is already their prevailing instinct to read and aggregate pictures.

As for Medsger, I had always assumed that she was a photographer or photojournalist. In fact she is an investigative reporter who was instrumental in exposing COINTELPRO, the FBI’s unprecedented program of spying on students, academics, and antiwar and civil rights activists from the mid-1950s to the early 1970s. Women at Work—described on its cover as a “photographic documentary” and blurbed by Studs Terkel—is, as far as I can tell, her only pictorial undertaking (it came out in 1975, several years after her J. Edgar Hoover exposé), and it is often left off lists of her notable publications. And yet here it is, over and over again—in my studio, in a domestic violence support organization, on who knows how many shelves, and in who knows how many used bookstores. Pictures at work.

[cajunroe]

GK, Brad/Nate “did you think i forgot?”

thank you nonnie! love me some icefick in the morning! 

hope you enjoy! 

two weeks before nate went back stateside, he’d written brad a letter. 

it wasn’t much, barely a page in total, but it was the most important thing he felt he’d ever write in his life. 

harsh lines littered various sentences he deemed too frivolous or too sentimental before he abandoned all hesitation and just wrote, concisely and simply, what he needed brad to know. what he knew he couldn’t leave without saying…or writing.

in the end, it didn’t matter what he said because brad already knew. 

years of being together in combat were enough for brad to be able to read nate from two klicks out.  

and in the end, it didn’t matter because all brad said, albeit a little hesitantly, was, “i can’t.”

and nate understood and he accepted it. he hadn’t hoped for anything more than the soul-crushing rejection, so it wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been. brad was staying on anyway and nate was going back to the states. and though that sat like a hundred-pound stone in nate’s stomach every day, he knew that had he stayed, he would’ve lost who he was. nate was willing to give brad everything, except that. 

but some innate part of nate, held onto the look in brad’s eyes before he rejected nate. the look that told him that brad felt something but he wasn’t ready to confront it.

and that is something nate counted on because as much as brad could read nate, nate could read him just as well, if not better.

which is why nate hastily scribbled the final part of the letter onto the scrap paper he’d found.

when you’re ready. santa monica pier. 4 p.m. i’ll be there. 

no date. no restrictions. they never had any and they weren’t going to start now. 

i’ll wait.

those two words sat on the back of the page and nate  only hoped that brad read them when or if he read the letter again. 

so nate continued on. he got an apartment, a dog named trevor and there’s a cat that hangs out on his fire escape whom with trevor will share his food. he gets a simple job, a motorcycle, and he tries to live happily. he sees ray, walt, gunny, pappy, and rudy semi-regularly, but it always feels like a piece is missing and nate sometimes end up wallowing in memories of brad. 

but still, everyday, at 4 p.m., he’s on the santa monica pier and he will walk for an hour. even when he knows there’s no way brad could even physically be there.

he made a promise and he wasn’t going to break it.

and that’s how he continues on for three years. 

ray and pappy try to set him up with other people and he tries, for their sakes, but his “dates” know it won’t work from the moment he starts talking about brad. he wishes he could move on. he knows that ray and gunny are worried about him as much as they’re worried about brad, but he’d made a promise. he would hold that promise until brad got back. 

and it’s on an unassuming, but increasingly challenging tuesday in the middle of may that nate is late for the first time in three years, four months, and nineteen day. 

he had to lead a workshop the entire day. his phone died the moment he tried to call ray who had left him 12 missed calls and by then it was 3:40 and he needed to get to the pier. at this point, it was a compulsion rather than a conscious decision. 

something about today felt different. while nate was speeding and weaving in and out of cars on his way to the pier, he couldn’t help but feel like he was missing something. at a red light he couldn’t run, he checked his watch and when he saw it read 4:15, he heart accelerated. for nearly three and a half year he was never late. as soon as the light turned green, he sped forward the last mile and half and double parked his bike. the moment the engine died his feet were speeding him down the pier and for the first time since this started, he looked for familiar blonde hair.

it was nearly 4:30 and as he scoured the pier, out of breath and looking frantic, he realized that he was alone. 

again. 

like he’s been for the past three years. 

he walks all the way down to the last bench, furthest away from people, and sits down heavily. 

he doesn’t cry, though he knows he wants to, but as the day settles down and his clock strikes closer to 5 p.m. something settles in him and he calms down. 

he closes his eyes and relaxes as the sun warms his skin. it reminds him of the desert and of soft touches, softer whispers, and the look in brad’s ice blue eyes saying everything and nothing at the same time, but still calming nate to his core in a matter of seconds. 

a strong sea breeze kisses his skin and the wind carries with it a smooth, deep voice that nate thinks he’s imagining until the tell tale sound of boots follow it. 

“you’re late.”

nate takes a solid minute before he opens his eyes.

and when his eyes connect with brads soft and bright ones, he gasps softly.

brad looks older, more tired, more battle-weary, but he looks healthy and whole and he’s here which is more than nate could have ever asked for, more than he could hope for. 

nate just stares and brad stares back and nate think of everything he wanted to say in the desert and everything he’s wanted to say since then, but all that comes out is a shaky breath.

then, “first time.”

brad laughs softly, “what?”

nate is still staring at brad, the sun silhouetted behind him and make brad look even more unfairly attractive than before. 

“i’m late for the first time in three years, four months, and nineteen days. and of course you choose today to show up, colbert.”

nate sighs deeply at looks back up to brad who is staring at him like he’s grown a second head. 

“you…” brad trails off before clearing his throat nervously and continuing, “every day?”

nate smiles softly as he nods, “i didn’t know when you’d be back,” he shrugs slowly, “i made a promise.”

brad kneels in front of nate, dark blue jeans scraping against the concrete and it takes nate a long moment to memorize brad in civilian clothing.

he reaches into the pocket of his jeans and pulls out a yellowed, slightly burned piece of paper, and nate’s hands shake as he runs his fingers along the singed edge.

nate smiles and blinks back the tears that have been threatening to spill over as brad speaks softly.

“i can’t believe you came here every day since you got back. that you’ve waited. that you remembered.”

the “me” at the end of the sentence went unspoken. nate knew brad and he knew how rare his vulnerability was shown. 

nate laughs, nervous and borderline hysterical, “did you think i forgot?”

nate grabs brad’s hand holding the letter and he smiles wide and bright and only for brad.

brad places his other hand over nate’s and cradles it softly as though anything harsher would break this moment.

brad looks into nate’s eye and immediately nate is taken back to the desert. his focus solely on brad’s eyes.

“nate, your commitment to me is the only thing i have absolute confidence in.”

brad looks a little shocked, as though the “to me” was supposed to be kept secret. 

nate doesn’t think, doesn’t breath as he brings his lips to brad’s.

the moment their lips touch, they both sigh as though they’ve just come home after a long day. 

there are no sparks, no fireworks, but more the entire puzzle falling into place. a split moment making every grain of sand, every scar, every sacrifice, everything they’d done to get to this moment completely worth it.

nate pulls back, panting softly, and places his forehead against brad’s.

“i’m sorry,” nate whispers, “i didn’t know what else to do.”

brad kisses him again, firmer and more serious, making nate’s face heat even more in the california sun.

“don’t ever apologize for that, nate. ever.”

nate nods again and links his fingers with brad’s.

“okay?”

brad nods with a bright smile.

nate has to ask what’s been pushing at his mind throughout their reunion.

“how long until you ship out again?”

brad pulls nate into his chest and kisses his forehead solely because he can.

“i’m not.”

nate pulls back sharply and stares at brad.

“what?”

“i’m out, nate. for good.”

nate laughs and jumps into brad’s arms and wraps his legs around brad’s waist. 

“thank fucking christ. if i had to wait any longer, i think i would’ve reenlisted.”

brad pulls nate to him roughly, “please don’t.”

nate shakes his head against brad’s collarbone, unaware of the people staring at them, “i’ve waited for you for so long brad, i’m not gonna leave now.”

nate pulls brad into another kiss before he feels his feet touch the ground again.

he laughs warmly as they walk hand in hand down the pier that had become nate’s second home over the past couple of years. 

“maybe ray and pap will stop trying to set me up with other guys now.”

he heard brad swearing as nate jogged towards the beach, sand under his feet and brad on his heels. 

the way it used to be and the way it would always be. 

together. 

[atemgirl94]

Mating Season pt. 3

Pairing: Werewolf Atem x Oc Britt Petrova

Atem's POV:

When class was over I gave everyone their weekend assignments. The weekend, how I knew I could have her for three full days alone and no one gets in the way of my plans for her. She would be mine.

I was clearing my desk when I smelled the scent of one of the students nearby. She reeked of those she'd been with a real turn off, unlike my soon-to-be mate who even at nineteen was innocent.

"Mr. Sehkret about the assignment maybe there's something else I could do instead." Laila said as she leaned over my desk showing her cleavage.

"Sorry Laila, I have a meeting with someone. You'll just have to do the assignment I gave you." I told her then I got my jacket on and left.

I went home to prepare things for tonight, the night I would start turning the human girl into a werewolf. Still, I had to make this right, the atmosphere for a human had to be the right mood so I took a book out of a friend's page setting up candles in my bedroom and flower petals to put a romantic atmosphere where I planned to have her. I waited closer to the time before lighting the candles keeping the curtains closed to darken the room only lit by candlelight.

Perfect. I thought

Britt's Pov:

Zoey and I had a long talk for some time after Mr. Sehkret had called to check on me and I finally admitted to her that I had my first kiss with my tutor. "You had your first kiss? Britt, if you like him things can get interesting." Zoey said and I merely nod.

You have no idea. I thought

Zoey checked my temperature again to make sure that I wasn't running a fever. When it beeped and she checked it she nods. "You're in the clear, you can go to meet with him." Zoey said

"Thank you, Dr. Zoey." I joked

I got up as I got my jacket on and headed for the door. I was in a hurry that I'd left all my books at her place. It took about half an hour or so before I arrived there. I figured I was going in just to catch up with today's lessons as I did not want to fall behind. So I knocked on the door waiting for him.

Atem's Pov:

I heard the knock on the door and I smelled the sweet intoxicating scent of hers from the other side. So when I opened it I offered my hand to her and she put her hand in mine as I lead her inside. I noticed she didn't have her books so I went over the work assignments for the class and wrote down what she needed to read to get them done as I kept a copy of the book there so I let her do that till close to dark.

Time to execute my plan. I thought

She was distracted by the studies I had given her so when I approached her from behind she wasn't paying attention. I first released more pheromones from my wolf to make her susceptible to what I was about to do then I started to slowly kiss her neck. I felt her tense at first but then her head turned to look at me and I moved from her neck to kiss her on the lips which she reciprocated back.

"Come with me." I said as I got close to her ear

I took her hand as she dropped the pencil she was writing with on the desk going with me. I lead her into the room that had candle lights and the rose petals. I noticed her face turn a shade of red seeing it as I got behind her.

"Mr. Sehkret..why are we in here.." She asked

"Britt, I want you to call me Atem while here and" I got close to her ear whispering "I want you to strip down to your underwear for me."

Watching her as she removed her red sleeveless jacket dropping it on the floor was only the beginning as I saw her hesitate at first. She really was innocent that it was amusing but I turned her around while she hesitated to have her look at me.

"It's okay you are safe." I assured her

She nods as she slowly started to unzip her shorts pulling them down and removing her shirt till she was standing in her underwear. I almost lost it seeing the colors that were purple and black my favorite colors but she couldn't have known that.

"Atem, why did y-" I cut her off with a kiss as I picked her up and sat on the bed with her on my lap. I started kneading her covered breasts first the right than the left. She broke the kiss to look at me, her face a darker shade of red which was amusing.

Britt's POV:

when he opened the door, he offered his hand to me and I didn't think much of it so I put my hand in his as he leads me inside. I didn't say that I did not bring my books but he went to get my work assignments for the class and wrote down what I needed to read to get them done. He had a copy of the books there so I worked on them till dark.

I was distracted by the studies he had given me, completely unaware of him standing behind me. I didn't notice right away but my body started to feel different and I couldn't explain why but suddenly he started to slowly kiss my neck. I tensed at first due to no one had ever done that before but then I head turned to look at him and watched as he moved from my neck to my lips. I couldn't resist for some reason as I kissed him back.

"Come with me." He said as a whisper in my ear so I nod

He took my hand as I dropped the pencil I was writing with on the desk. He leads me into a room that had candle lights and rose petals. I blushed due to the atmosphere was one I was not used to. It was so romantic in a way and I have never been in a relationship.

"Mr. Sehkret..why are we in here.." I asked

"Britt, I want you to call me Atem while here and" I felt him as he got close to my ear whispering "I want you to strip down to your underwear for me."

I don't know why anyone else I would have said no to. Yet my body seemed to have a mind of its own as I took my jacket off slowly as if wanting to tease someone but I blushed darker at the thought of what was to come.

"It's okay you are safe." He assured me

I nod as I slowly started to unzip my shorts pulling them down and removing my shirt slowly till I was standing in my underwear. I noticed his eyes got a darker look in them when he saw the color of my bra and panties that I blushed a darker shade of red.

"Atem, why did y-" He cut me off with a kiss as he picked me up.

Sitting on the bed with me in his lap. I had no clue what he was up to but then he started kneading my covered breasts. I broke the kiss to look him my self conscious rising since I have never been touched.

"Britt I need you" he whispered in my ear

"Need me for what?" I asked "You'll see." Atem answered

He adjusted me so I was now laying on the bed with my back on it and the front of me facing him. He hovered over me as he kept kneading one of my clothed breasts. I felt one of his hands moving down and I caught it before he could. As I said I'd never been touched and I was hesitant yet something came over me as I let his hand go.

"You are safe with me, I promise you Britt." Atem said

Author's note: next part is Lemon! 🍋

Atem's Pov:

I'd moved her to the bed with her laying on her back as I kept kneading one of her breasts. My other hand had been moving down to tease her opening so I could prepare her for what was about to happen. I felt her hand grab hold of mine so I released more wolf pheromones. This was but a sample of what she'd feel, once I gave in to desire she'd go crazy but I didn't want that yet. Her nature was innocent and I didn't want her to fully lose herself yet.

"You are safe with me, I promise Britt" I assured her

I waited before continuing what I had planned to do. I started with teasing her and she squirmed some under the feeling. I couldn't help but be amused by her reaction but then I pushed my finger through her opening. She gasped in surprise as I thrust my finger in her soon adding a second and a third to prepare her. I felt her barrier and made sure not to break it yet as I heard her moan for the first time. That was enough to break my control as I pulled my fingers out and licked them a bit seeing her watching me. Then I saw her eyes go down to the bulge in my pants and she seemed nervous.

"Shh" I soothed her as I started to remove my clothes till nothing was left.

Smelling how aroused I was, I knew she'd no longer be able to resist me. The Pheromones alone made her start to want me but my arousal could make her desire nothing but me and having my pups. Oh, it also can make females in general start to ovulate if they're not already. So I removed her panties sliding them down noticing she was wet. I went to remove her bra when she put her arms over herself being self-conscious.

"Please..don't..I." I knew she was being self-conscious so I just removed her arms from blocking her from my sight. "You are beautiful no matter what you do. This will hurt at first." I said then I kissed her having my hand behind her head as I lined myself up with her entrance. I thrust inside her and I feel her clinging on to me for dear life, her eyes shed tears while I wait for her to adjust. I didn't move at first. The feeling of something trickling down her thigh and the smell was easy to tell. I parted with her so she could breathe.

"I..I" She didn't seem to know what to do but then I felt her roll her hips as we moaned together. I took that as a sign to start moving.

I started thrusting inside of her hard and fast making sure to reach all the way to the opening of her womb. I wanted to make her mine and this was part of how I was turning her. To convert a female human, part of the way to turn them is to release inside of them several times till they start growing wolf ears and a tail but that's only half the way to turn them. Some werewolves are okay with half wolves but I wanted a full werewolf so I'd have to go the route of biting her and scratching to fully convert her over time. It was going to be a long process so starting a week and a few days early before mating season wasn't so bad.

Britt's arms went around my neck as she held onto me as I kept thrusting. She was extremely tight but she was a virgin before we started. All those sweet sounds she was making though and pants as she soon released. Her walls were getting tight on me as I felt close and with one good last thrust making sure to be all the way inside her I released inside her.

"I..I didn't expect this.." Britt said I chuckled as we layed there like that for a few minutes "I hope you are ready for a few more rounds tonight." I said

-later that night-

At 2 am I pulled out, she was worn out and this was merely but a taste of what she'd desire. I leaned close kissing her stomach knowing she'd taken a lot of my essence tonight. It was too late for anyone to save her now though that I'd done this cause her body will want nothing more than to have my child now while I convert her into a full werewolf.

"Get some sleep Britt." I told her as I layed by her and covered her up. I held her close before leaning to her neck and slowly bit it to leave my mark to say she was Mine now. I heard her moan at my bite on her skin and I forgot that she'd become sensitive during our time. As we fell asleep.

Author note: So I never did this before and honestly it was rather amusing to write. The next chapter will have similar details after all the *Lemon* part of it is part of converting her to a werewolf

[arituzz]

nineteen firsts and one last

-SNOWBAZ-

Summary: It’s Simon’s nineteenth birthday. He’s not expecting anything unusual, just some messages from his tumblr friends. But Baz has different plans.

Word count: 3.7k

Rating: T

Tags: tumblr au, friends to lovers, distant relationship, first meeting

Ari: This is just an edit from last year’s fic, because I didn’t like the format. Happy 20th birthday, Simon ♡

SIMON

I wake up to the doorbell ringing. I look at the clock. 5:59 am. Fuck. Who could it be at this unholy hour? Probably my father, coming back home drunk after a night of partying. Damn, why didn’t he stay in the hotel, as usual?

The doorbell rings again. “I’m fucking coming, dad!” I yell.

I put on some clothes and go to the door. I open it, ready to scowl at my father but, instead, there’s a delivery girl looking at me through her pointy glasses.

“Good morning,” she says. “A packet for Simon Snow.”

“Uhm… that’s me,” I tell her, a little bewildered.

She gives me the packet and makes me sign a paper. I tell her thanks and make to go back inside. “Wait,” I shout before she leaves. “Next time, could you come, I don’t know, in the afternoon? When I’m not sleeping?”

“Sorry, the sender wrote specific instructions to deliver this on 21st June at precisely 5:59 am. He even paid an extra and called the company to make sure we followed the instructions. Sounded rather bitter. I wouldn’t risk my job,” she explains. Ha. Like dying her hair blue wouldn’t risk it. Though, I have to say it looks awesome on her dark skin.

“Oh, in that case… Thanks. Have a nice day,” I wish her.

“See you later!”

I close the door and go to the living room, to open the packet. It’s a basket full of fresh-baked cherry scones and some blocks of butter. There’s a card with a note. It reads:

Some like it hot (page 38)

5:59 am - First breakfast to your door

I’d bring it to your bed if I were there

Baz

(Gampire Chaz to my Craigon Rain)

Oh my God. Baz. Right, it’s my birthday. It’s nice of him that he remembered. Baz is my best friend on tumblr. Well, he is my best friend, period. Although I’ve never met him in person, I feel like we’ve known each other for years. And to think that we used to be at each other’s throats!

When I first read the book A Charmed Life, I became hugely obsessed with its characters—i.e. the protagonist, a half-dragon named Craigon Rain—so I created a tumblr blog to obsess about them. At that time, there were very few people in the fandom: gampire-chaz-loves-craigon-rain (Baz), rainchaz61 (Penny), tape-exists-and-im-glad-for-it (Agatha), trixiethelesbianpixie (Trixie), gampirhys (Rhys), so-noted-rainchaz (Niall), and craigonsnowrain (me). And we were like a little family.

But I hated Baz. And he hated me. We would make stupid competitions to see who had the most notes on their posts. I finally gave up because the fucker draws the most brilliant fanart. So I decided to befriend him and make some projects together.

A smile draws in my face as I eat the delicious over-buttered cherry scones. Just the way I like them.

I grab my cellphone to send a thank you message to Baz.

When I’m done with breakfast, I scroll down my dash on tumblr. No happy birthday message. Well, it’s still early. Not for Baz, though, he lives in England, so it must be the afternoon already.

I decide to watch TV for a while—I have nothing planned for today. The fact is that I don’t really have any friends in real life. I don’t know many people here in Nebraska, and the ones I know are complete idiots. So my plan is to stay in all day and read a freaking lot of Rainchaz fanfiction.

After a while, I turn off the TV and go to tumblr on my laptop. Oh, one notification: gampire-chaz-loves-craigon-rain mentioned you in a post.

I open the link and it’s a beautiful doodle of me and Baz, fighting a chimera—as in one of the book’s scenes. I’ve posted some pics of me before, so he has references. The post says:

“Do it. Fucking unleash. Now.” (page 5)

First doodle of you (and me)

Baz

I hit reblog and add:

“I can’t. It doesn’t work like that.”

BTW it’s fucking WONDERFUL!! tysm <3

I’m reading a smutty Rainchaz fic when the doorbell rings again. It’s not that I’m gay, I just love the characters so much. And the smut is great, I love it. The authors in this fandom are just brilliant.

I look at the clock. 7:59 am. It’s still too early for dad to come and I’m not expecting anyone. (Ever.)

I open the door and the same delivery girl brings another packet, this time smaller.

She smiles at me and says, “You know the procedure.” I sign the paper and she leaves with a “See you later!”

“Later,” I reply.

I go back into the apartment and open the packet. It’s a book. The book. A Charmed Life. I go to the first page and, holy shit, it’s signed by the author! It’s so difficult to get a signed copy, I’ve been trying for months, but the author is not very sociable. She wrote:

To Simon Snow,

May you fight your own battles and forge your own wings.

Cather Avery

Wow. It’s perfect.

There is also a card with a note that reads:

“It’s the good things that’ll drive you mad with missing them.” (page 11)

First signed copy of your favourite book.

(I miss you even though I’ve never met you)

Baz

Jesus Christ. This is the best birthday present of my life. I take a picture of it to post it on tumblr and add: @gampire-chaz-loves-craigon-rain I wish you were here so I could hug you into oblivion! Thank you, best b-day present ever <3

I grab my old copy of A Charmed Life—don’t want to ruin this one—and start running through its pages. With all these gifts I feel like re-reading it. Again. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve read it.

It’s a Young Adult fantasy novel about a very special chosen one. A chosen who doesn’t want to be chosen. Craigon Rain is the last half-human, half-dragon alive. He’s never met his mother—that’s where he got the dragon part. His father wants him to take part in a battle that’s not his own. A battle against the vampires. At first Craigon—the half-dragon—obeys his father’s orders until he meets Gampire Chaz, a teenage vampire who finds himself in the same situation as Craigon, but on opposite ends. The two boys fall in love, defying everything that’s been established by their families and it’s precisely their love the thing that saves them all.

I identify myself quite a lot with Craigon Rain—my name is Simon Snow, see the irony. I never met my mother either and I also think my father is the responsible of everything bad that happens in my life.

Baz identifies himself with the antagonist, Gampire Chaz—only because he’s got brown skin like him, and their middle names rhyme. The moron.

My phones buzzes and I leave the book on the table. Another tumblr notification: gampire-chaz-loves-craigon-rain mentioned you in a post.

I open the link. It’s an aesthetic with six pictures of us—separately, duh—and three pictures with vampires and dragons. It’s beautiful. Under the post, Baz has written:

“Strong. Graceful. Fucking ruthless.” (Page 14)

(You are)

8:59 am - First aesthetic of us!

Baz

I hit reblog and add: This is too much Baz. I can’t even!! tysm <3

I can’t believe any of my tumblr friends—we call ourselves raindrops—has wished me a happy birthday yet. Except Baz, sort of. I mean, he hasn’t said it explicitly. Penny lives in India and Agatha in France, I think they should have posted something by now… Now that I think of it I have no clue where Rhys, Niall and Trixie live… Well, Niall is clearly asian but that doesn’t mean that he lives in Asia. I don’t know.

I’m hungry. Thinking too much makes me hungry. Thinking makes me hungry. I go the kitchen to see if there’s anything to eat.

Nothing. Fuck. I’m gonna have to go buy something.

I go to the closest supermarket and buy some popcorn and a peanut butter cup ice cream. Perfect combination for fanfiction reading.

As I climb the steps to my apartment, I bump into the delivery girl from before.

“Hey, watch out,” she scowls and extends me yet another package.

I sign the paper and tell her, “later?”

“Later,” she answers, with a smile.

Once I’m inside, I open the packet—the third one today, and it’s only 9:59 am.

There are some papers inside the packet, a photo of a star, I think?

I read the note that Baz has left:

“Twinkle, twinkle little star!” (page 260)

9:59 am - First star

(These are official documents that prove that this star is named after you and is now yours.)

(Sorry I couldn’t give you the Universe, but this is a star-t.)

(Yes, I knew you wouldn’t understand shit of what the papers say.)

Baz

I’m at a loss of words. What the fuck. It must have cost him a fortune. Well, it must have cost his father a fortune. I guess they can afford it.

I send him a message on tumblr: got the star. what the actual fuck? speechless.

And then I add: why arent u replying to any of my posts? u ok?

Right after reading the first fic, halfway through my ice-cream, the doorbell rings again. 10:59 am. I’m guessing it’s not dad, just yet.

I open the door, and a familiar blond haired girl with the most beautiful brown eyes I’ve ever seen is standing there, looking bored.

“Agatha!” I scream.

“Happy birthday, Simon,” she smiles at me and kisses my cheek. “I’ve come to bring you your next gift.” She shows me what seems like a tattooer box.

I know what Agatha looks like and that she’s a professional tattooer. She’s posted several pics on raindrops faces day. And the rest, too. All except Penny. (She says she can’t be bothered to take a selfie.)

“Agatha!” I shout again. I still can’t believe it. “Come in,” I add.

We sit on the sofa and she gives me the next note. It reads:

“Flames and Blazes—The Art of Burning.” (page 203)

10:59 am - First tattoo

(This is a combined gift from Wellbelove and me)

(I made the design and she’s going to tattoo you)

(You actually asked for it, so it’s no surprise)

Agatha shows me the design. It’s a constellation. And there’s fire surrounding it.

“Simon,” she says. “This is going to hurt.”

“It’s wonderful, Agatha,” I say when it’s finished, looking at my back through the mirror. “You could’ve been gentler, though.”

“I was gentle, Simon, believe me,” she replies.

The doorbell rings again. I think that it has rung more in one day than in nineteen years.

“Lunch,” Agatha says, and goes for the door. She opens it. “Hi, Penny,” she says to the delivery girl.

What?

“Penny?” I ask, stupidly.

“Sorry, Simon, it was too fun seeing you all clueless,” she apologizes.

“I am still clueless,” I retort.

She takes me into her arms and gives me a tight hug. “Happy birthday Simon! Let’s have lunch. Where’s the dining room?”

“Uhm, here, in the living room. I eat in the living room.”

“Oh, your note,” Penelope says as she gives me the card.

“Because roast beef and Yorkshire pudding are fucking real as Rain.” (page 84)

11:59 - First roast beef and Yorkshire pudding from Watford

(Because you haven’t eaten real roast beef if it’s not from England)

(And Watford Restaurant serves the best one)

(Enjoy your meal)

Baz

We sit on the sofa and start eating our lunch. I’m so happy. It’s like we do this everyday. But I miss Baz. I miss him so much. Where the fuck is he?

We finish eating and Penny looks at her watch. “It’s 12:59,” she says. “Dessert is here,” she smiles wickedly.

“Open the door, Simon,” Agatha says.

I go for the door and open it.

Baz.

Baz is here. With a cake in his hands.

Baz is here. And I can’t hug him.

“Baz!” I say, grinning widely.

“Hey, Snow, happy birthday,” he says, and hands the cake to me. There’s a card on it, too.

“But he just stood there for as long as he could stand it. I don’t know how he resisted the pull; I felt like my intestines were going to burst out and wrap around him.” (page 167)

12:59 - First meeting

(I’m here.)

Baz

Baz looks like he’s trying to hide the huge smile that’s drawing in his face. But I can see it.

“Fuck, Snow,” he says, finally giving into the smile. “I wanted this to happen at 1:59 pm, but here you go.”

“What?” I ask

He takes out another card from the back pocket of his jeans and reads it.

“Trying not to crack a smile. Page 517.”

Then, he looks at his watch and adds, “ 1:01 pm, first smile. First real life smile from me to you.”

“The presents are getting better,” I say, trying not to smile from ear to ear.

We eat the cake on the sofa. Baz tried to oppose to it, but I don’t really have a table with nice chairs to sit down and chat while drinking tea. I’ve never had anyone come over.

We talk about our lives. Well, they talk about their lives and I listen. And look at Baz. His eyes are prettier than I had imagined. And oh my God, his skin. It reminds me of toffee. It has such an appetizing color it makes me want to taste it.

After a while, Baz leads us downstairs and into a cab that’s parked in front of my building.

The taxi drives for around twenty minutes before it comes to a stop. “We’ve arrived,” the driver anounces.

Baz tips him and gestures us to follow him. We enter a place called The Wavering Wood Cafe.

“Happy birthday!” Rhys, Niall, Trixie and other fellow raindrops I identify from tumblr say at the same time as I go through the door.

“Jesus,” I say. I’m stupefied. A surprise party. For me.

Baz hands me another card and our fingertips brush. He cracks an undecipherable smile and looks away.

I read the note.

“It feels like a party.” (page 40)

2:59 pm - First birthday party

(First of many to come)

Baz

I’m having a great time. It’s so fun talking to all my tumblr friends in real life. I finally got to meet Keris, Trixie’s girlfriend. She always posts pics of them together. (Penny finds it gross.) (But that’s personal. She doesn’t like Trixie.)

I keep giving glances towards Baz’s direction. I don’t know why I can’t stop staring at him.

Suddenly, my phone buzzes. It’s a tumblr post from Baz.

I open the link. It’s a fic. It’s called Snowbaz. Not Rainchaz. I read the summary:

“Because I’m disturbed.” (page 205)

“Ask anyone,”I think out loud, smiling. And then continue reading the summary:

3:59 pm - First fanfiction about us

Baz

I start reading the fic. It’s all fluff and love until the last part. Smut. I read it all. And love every word. Fuck.

I look at Baz. He’s already staring at me. I step towards him.

“Hey, Snow,” he says. “Ever tried a flaming shot?”

“I’m underaged, you know.”

“Not in my country,” he smirks.

“Okay, fine, give me a shot.”

“A flaming shot, Snow,” Baz says. “Here.”

He hands me a small glass of liquor and sets it on fire with a lighter. He does the same with his glass.

“To us,” he says.

“To us,” I reply.

He blows out the fire and drinks all the liquor. I mimic him. Ugh. I grimace.

“Sharing a room with the person you want most is like sharing a room with an open fire,” Baz starts saying, looking directly into my eyes. “He’s constantly drawing you in. And you’re constantly stepping too close. And you know it’s not good—that there is no good—that there’s absolutely nothing that can ever come of it. But you do it anyway. And then…”

“Then you burn,” I finish. God, his eyes are fire.

“Page 177. 4:59 pm, first flaming drink.”

“First drink,” I correct.

He laughs and orders a couple more.

We have a couple more shots and talk about our favorite AUs. We talk more than we drink.

Suddenly Baz looks at his watch, and then back at me. With the same blazing eyes from before. He stays silent, just looking at me, for a moment. He looks hesitant.

I think he’s going to kiss me.

But he doesn’t. He keeps staring. Some minutes pass. I stare at my watch. 6:10 pm. Where’s my 5:59 pm gift?

“Simon…” Baz starts, flaming shot in his hand.

And then I kiss him.

We kiss for a long time. Then I let go and make him reach for me. And we kiss again.

After a while, we break the kiss and smile at each other. I’m grinning. I can’t help it.

“I was going to say You were the sun, and I was crashing into you,” Baz says. “But I guess the best quote for this is And then HE kisses ME.” He can’t hide his grin, either.

“Page 342,” I say. “6:10 pm, first kiss.”

“Shite, what time is it?” He asks, already looking at his watch.

“6:50 pm,” I answer, moronically.

“Let’s go have dinner, Simon. You and me, only.”

“Okay,” I say. And I follow him to the next room.

There’s a small table for two with two candles. It’s always fire with Baz.

We sit down and he takes out another card.

“You smell like something I’d gladly eat, page 421,” he says, staring at my eyes. “6:59 pm, first romantic dinner.”

I blush.

After dinner, we all go to a pub. It’s called The World of Mages.

It’s great and I’m so happy to be surrounded by friends and the person I like. Baz. That’s new. Liking boys. No, not boys. Only Baz. Wanting to kiss him over and over again.

He takes my hand and says, “Want to dance?”

I nod and smile at him. I’m crap at dancing but I don’t care.

Baz puts his hands on my waist and leads me through the song. Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody.

“I should have known that this is what it would be like to dance with Craigon Rain. Fighting in place. Mutual surrender,” Baz whispers into my ear. “Page 508. 7:59 pm, first dance.”

I place both my arms around his neck and slump into him.

We’re still at the pub. Dancing. Well, at least I’m trying.

“What are we going to do?” I ask him. “You’re going to leave back to England.”

“I know,” he answers with a crack in his voice. “We’ll figure it out, little puff.”

“Baz,” I say. “What’s the next gift? I think I have a better idea.”

“Huh? I was going to take you for a drive…”

“I want to be your boyfriend. Your terrible boyfriend,” I say. “Page 390.”

Baz looks surprised. He places both his hands on my face and kisses me, tenderly. “Of course,” he says. And kisses me again.

“8:59 pm,” I say. “First boyfriend.”

And I kiss him again.

After the pub, we say goodbye to our fellow raindrops. There’s a lot of hugging and kisses on the cheek. God, I’m gonna miss them.

“We have to do this more often,” I say. Even though I’m broke. But I’ll find the money somehow.

They all agree.

Once they’re gone, it’s just me and Baz.

“Let’s go back to my apartment,” I tell him.

“What if your father is there?”

“At this time? Not likely. He must be out, drinking again.”

“Okay,” he says.

We go to my apartment and settle in my room. It’s full of constellations on the walls. Because I love astrology. Hence the tattoo.

“Baz, you haven’t seen it,” I say.

“Seen what?”

“The tattoo, idiot!”

I take my shirt off and show it to him. He places his fingertips on my back and starts tracing it. The touch sends shivers down my spine.

“So beautiful…” Baz says.

I turn around and look at him. I reach for his shirt and take it off. Eyes locked on his. I close the distance and kiss him. And then my hands go down. I can’t stop myself. I kiss every spot of his dark olive skin. And I want more. And I can see that he wants, too.

So I take more. I take it all. And I give it all. To him. To Baz.

“Because we match,” I say after a while. My head is resting on Baz’s chest. Our fingers laced. “Page 420.” I look at my watch. “10:58 pm, first time.”

“When did you start giving yourself birthday presents?” Baz asks.

“I think it was when I did this,” I answer. And I kiss him.

“God, I love you, Simon Snow.”

“I love you, Baz.”

“Fell in love, didn’t you?” He smiles.

“10:59 pm, first I love you,” I say.

I go with Baz to the airport. I’m sad that he has to go. But I’m happy that he came. And he’s going to move to the States with his aunt, Fiona, next year. So I just have to wait for a year. And I’m going to visit him soon. Maybe for his birthday.

He looks at me with watery eyes. He holds my hand so hard it hurts a little.

“I’ll come to England, in a couple of months,” I reassure him. “And then you’ll come back. We’ll be seeing each other a lot. You won’t get rid of me that easily.”

“When I come to live in America with Fiona, I’m going to haunt your door day and night.”

There’s a shout for all the passengers of the flight to Southampton Airport.

Baz kisses me, before letting go.

“Goodbye, Simon,” he says. “This is a first and a last goodbye. Because the next time I see you, I won’t let you go for anything in the world.”

“Go on, then,” I say. “Carry on, Baz.”

-FIN-

[cursivesugg]

Grammy || Jack Maynard

Requests are currently [ CLOSED ]

Masterlist can be found [ HERE ]

Word Count: 1.8k+

Summary: You’ve been friends with Jack since you were kids, and he’s always supported every single one of your dreams. When you win a Grammy, he makes the night even more memorable when he proposes to you at the afterparty. 

Dedicated too: The anon who requested this; I apologise about getting a little too caught up in writing this but I honestly loved the concept and included Conor quite alot (it felt appropriate)xo

When you were six, you entered a dance competition at your school and came last. When you were nine, you ran a half marathon and dropped out mid-way through. When you were twelve, you took part in a drawing competition, and came fourth.

By that point, you were so done with competing in subjects in which you had absolutely no talent. If it wasn't for your bestfriend, Jack Maynard, and his older brother Conor, you would've given up and never entered another contest again. But when you were sixteen, and your school was holding yet another talent show, they encouraged you to enter; and were adamant that you did the one thing they knew you excelled at. They wanted you to sing.

That night was the first night you ever sang infront of anyone but your family and the Maynards', and it was exhilarating. Your stage presence was electrifying and the feeling that ran through your blood made you feel something you'd never felt before.

That was when you knew what you were destined to do. You entered tons of competitions and just two years later you were picked out by a management team and offered a once in a life time record deal. At first you'd hesitated; it was a huge deal and wasn't a decision that a nineteen year old could make alone. And so you found comfort in the one person who's opinion you truly valued with everything you had.

Yourself and Jack spent hours sat in the old treehouse, duvets thrown over you and fairy lights illuminating the space - the vibe simply too magical to recreate. You talked and talked for hours, about the pros and the cons and the changes that would come. By the end of the night, your decision had been made, and even Conor, who'd released his debut single a year earlier and peaked on the UK charts - was ecstatic when you told him.

It was then that you knew you'd made the right decision. You called up the number of the management company, and accepted their offer - and your life took off. Before you knew it you were in the studio, recording songs and releasing singles and albums and everything you'd ever dreamed of. You collaborated with Conor on a song which reached number one in the charts, you toured with Jack by your side, and he managed to vlog the entire thing.

Your best friends Youtube channel was taking off, he was making so many friends who were all apart of the same thing that he was, and you were so caught up in your responsibilities that you would've imagined that the two would've parted ways. But you never did. You stuck by his side through thick and thin, and he supported your every decision. He was still your bestfriend; but after spending so much time together and being mistaken as a couple in several magazines and news articles, the two of you began to consider that maybe, you were destined to become more than just that.

You fell in love under the sun, whilst taking a stroll across a beach in California with his oversized hoodie drowning your petite figure and your hand connected between you. You'd managed to not be noticed yet, all thanks to Jack, and that was the day you realised that you didn't just want to be bestfriends anymore. And so you made a split second decision, and wrapped your arms around this neck - pulling him down and brushing your soft lips against his slightly chapped ones.

This year was the year of The Grammy's. You'd been nominated for six awards and were so humbly grateful for that. You invited the whole buttercream squad, who thanked you over and over and promised to be on their best behaviour. You rolled your eyes, and hugged them all, which was almost a foreign feeling seeing as none of them were screaming or fingerling over you like the majority of your fans did. These guys were your friends, and they knew who you were beneath the fame and the music, and you'd always treasure that.

The guys all gathered in your hotel room after you'd argued your way out of having your own makeup artist and lady who dressed you. You didn't need that, you were a human being who could dress herself; and you had Zoe, who always managed to create the most stunning makeup looks on you. You had all of the boys to help you get dressed and make sure you had no one strand of hair out of place, you had Josh, who was tall enough to make sure your cleavage didn't look wonky in your dress.

They were everything you could've needed.

The whole three hours of prepping was spent laughing, and the nerves that'd been building in the pit of your stomach completely diminished. By the time you got the call that your car was ready downstairs, you were ready to leave and were simply waiting on the boys, who were performing last minute checks on their hair. You and Zoe were smirking to eachother as you heard them arguing over who got to use the mirror, but eventually they all started to emerge from the bathroom - each in a different style of suit which implemented them perfectly.

You immediately looked toward the Maynard brothers, who were staring at you with tears in their eyes. You frowned and pursed your lips, pushing back the tears as you pulled them both into a group hug, whispering 'thank you' over and over again. Every single one of your friends meant the world to you, but the brothers had been there for you since the very beginning - and they were the reason that you were where you were.

That evening, your whole group broke every rule in the book and walked the red carpet as a group, your hand tightly in Jack's as she smile at all of the cameras and do silly poses together. You made sure your whole group got atleast twenty photographs together before leading them off of the carpet and into the venue. Your eyes were wide in awe and the chandeliers simply took your breath away.

You were seated with all of your friends, Jack and Conor on both of your sides with their hands entwined with yours. You spent the evening cheering for your fellow friends in the industry and screaming in excitement whenever one of your favourite artists won an award. When it finally came to the categories that you'd been nominated for, you stopped breathing for a moment, and almost fainted when you heard your name being shouted through the microphone in excitement.

Your eyes widen and your heart speeds up, but after a few seconds everyone stood up and began to cheer for you, and offered you the confidence you needed to stand up and pick up your dress; beginning the walk toward the stage. A few tears of emotion were running down your cheeks by the time you took the trophy from the presenter and hugged him tightly. You approached the podium, and smiled at the extremely large crowd of hugely powerful artists, such as Beyonce and Taylor Swift.

You smile and wipe your tears, laughing a little into the mic when people begin to sit down and hush, patiently awaiting your speech. "I- I honestly wasn't prepared for this." She takes a deep breath and composes herself silently. "I wrote a there page speech two days ago in the middle of the night because I couldn't sleep. But, if I'm honest, I thanked way too many people who really didn't alter my path into this industry." A few people laugh, and she smiled and glances down at the award in her hands. "There are two boys who I wouldn't be here today without. They stuck by me when I came last in every competition until they finally convinced me to sing. And I came first, and that started my journey." She pulls her lips between her teeth and inhales softly. "This is for you. For Conor, who proved to be a better brother to me than my actual brother ever was. You encouraged me to follow my dream and together we made a beautiful child," she winks playfully, obviously referring to their song. "And Jack, god, I don't know where I'd be without you. I love you, with everything I have. Thank you, to you boys, and the rest of our little squad, and to my beautiful bestfriend, Zoe, who made sure I looked up to standard tonight. You guys are my whole word, and I love each and every one of you. Thank for you making all of this possible." She takes a step back and lifts the award with a wide smile, closing her eyes and listening as everyone stands up and cheers for her; that familiar feeling running through her veins.

That night, after winning two more awards, one of which was for your song with Conor, you were all at the after party, high from the thrill and unable to stop smiling. You didn't know how, but after two hours you'd managed to loose Jack. You tried to go and find him, but Zoe insisted that he'd only got to the loo and would be back in a while. And you believed her, until you heard him cough into the microphone on the stage and everyone fell silent. Your eyes widen and you stare at him in shock.

"First of all, I want to congratulate everyone who was nominated for an award tonight, and those who managed to win those awards. They're so well deserved." He raises his glass and everyone claps loudly, though you simply stared at your boyfriend, completely baffled. "But there's one girl here tonight, who means everything to me. She is my bestfriend, my partner in crime, and my soulmate - but there's one thing she isn't yet." He pauses and smiles at you through the crowd. "(Y/N), I love you. And I want you to be my wife."

You gasp and bring your hand up to cover your mouth as everyone else screams in excitement and pull out their phones and cameras: that was when you understood why every single one of the boys had begun to vlog the moment he stepped onto the stage.

You begin to walk through the crowds of people until you were directly in-front of him and he knelt down on one knew, opening the red belted box and revealing the absolutely stunning ring to you. "Marry me?"

You nod, and a sob escapes from your lips as he slides the ring onto your finger, the whole party cheering and creaming and throwing confetti at you both as you throw yourself into his arms and hug him tightly, your heart beating in your chest faster than it ever had before.

This was where you needed to be, in the arms of your one true love. Awards and ceremonies didn't matter in that moment, it was simply you and Jack, in love - and it was beautiful.

[goddess37]

Today I had to report harassment

The worst part is that I was too uncomfortable with the idea to even do it myself.

Last spring, I met a couple of guys at work. I’d been working there since the end of the previous summer, but they worked at the plant across the street and the only real overlaps were smoke breaks and I don’t smoke. When I finally made it outside last year I mostly scrolled through Pinterest or joked with the girl I work with and let everyone ignore me. Eventually though two of the guys, Brandon and Jordan, started talking to me here and there. Jordan even added me on Facebook.

It was kind of cool to have friends again. I’d been living in this state for about a year with no friends except for my boyfriend of a few months, now a year and a half. Brandon is pretty laid back, but Jordan seemed to want to talk all the time. It was fine at first and I would always oblige by discussing at length whatever subject he wanted to “debate” that time. Inevitably, we found ourselves on feminist topics. He identifies as an egalitarian. I don’t remember most of what he said anymore as this was almost a year ago and there were many “debates,” but one thing has stuck in my mind and marked the real beginning of our problem. We were discussing rape and he decided to argue- no, debate- that it wasn’t really such a big problem. I remember he made the “not ALL men” argument and I told him that no it wasn’t all men but it was enough. Apparently, the obvious response here was, “Who decides that it’s enough?” I guess even just one wasn’t enough for him as he then told me all of my examples were anecdotal. These examples included me, one of my mothers, and two of my closest friends, but these weren’t enough for him.

After that I started ignoring most of his texts, of which there were plenty-sometimes nineteen in a row. At first he asked why I never responded anymore and I always brushed it off, blaming it on my anxiety. In part, that was the reason. I was anxious talking to him. What core value or traumatizing experience would he try to diminish this time? As long as we only talked when people were around I was mostly okay. Whereas I would get angry and exacerbate the situation, others would distract us both. Conflict averted. We could make small talk at work or on the way to the theater with Brandon, but never alone or he would “debate” again. I tried even to never be too near him. Stand with someone between us, turn my body away from him, sit across from him at breaks instead of beside him. Eventually I quit going to breaks other than lunch at all and blamed it on the cold. It was fall by then and I’m from warmer climates so this was easily believed.

One day Brandon asked me to play Dungeons and Dragons. He wanted to be DM but needed a group. He told me there were a few people from his plant who were supposed to play, including Jordan, and we’d meet every Saturday. It was a group of several people so I thought it should be fine. No. When I got there I found out everyone had bailed. Everyone, that is, but Jordan and me. It turned out to be a lot of fun despite this and I still really enjoy playing. Our characters got along no better than we did in real life. His half-elf monk Noveon was argumentative and started fights with almost everyone we met. My tiefling druid Relentless Madness, Mad for short, was quiet, “spunky,” and tried her best to stay out of trouble. She even had to talk down the god of death after Noveon picked a fight with him. The god of freaking death—that’s unrelated.

Anyway, we still didn’t get along, but those texts never stopped. Day, night, weekends, before, after and during work. I still ignored the vast majority. I was afraid to confront the situation, because that would only spark some long drawn out conversation in which he had to be right. He always has to be right. I just ignored it and brushed it off and played D&D and tried not to let our conversations get to deep when I had to get rides from him when the roads got icy. I was always nervous since it’s a 30-40-minute drive to get to D&D and yet another on the way back. If he felt there were any issues between us he always tried to discuss them then and we almost always had some kind of issue. Those rides were so exhausting I almost quit D&D, which I really love to play.

Christmas came around and he got me two presents. I thought it was weird that he got me anything at all and I told him several times that he really shouldn’t get me anything, that he didn’t need to, but he still did. He got me a hair dryer and a set of make-up brushes. Neither gets much use, but you’re supposed to be grateful for gifts so I gave him a hug. I regret that deeply. I found out recently that he talked about it a lot after. He told me often that I’m one of his best friends, even if I don’t feel the same about him. I always ignored that.

When January hit us he wrote me a suicide letter through text. I had no idea what to do. This had never happened to me before and I’m ashamed to say I ignored that too. By that point I was constantly angry with him and the responsibility this text laid on me made me even angrier. So I ignored him. Nothing happened, thankfully.

His texts became more insulting afterward and he was clearly more and more upset that I never respond to him, though he always claimed he was joking.

In February, he blew up on me for the first time. For days he had been poking me, in the shoulder, the arm, the side, every time he passed me and I had had enough. I do not like to be touched. I can count on one hand the people who I am truly comfortable enough to let touch me. He has never been one of those people. He was aware of this, though I understand that for people who don’t have this aversion it can be hard to remember. When I confronted him I tried to be calm and nice about it. I walked up to our lunch table right after he had poked me again at the microwaves and said, “Dude, you need to quit touching me.” He made a face that was just so full of shock and hurt and told me he was sorry. I lied and told him it was okay and proceeded to pull out my phone and eat my food just like I do every day.

Six minutes after lunch ended he texted me to say again that he was sorry, to explain that he was only trying to show affection, and to promise that it would never happen again. I was working at the time and didn’t see it, though if I had I probably wouldn’t have responded. He’d said what he felt he needed to and I had already told him it was okay. Twenty minutes later he sent me this.

“I also, promise the next

time you text me, no matter

how important, save life

threatening situations, I’m

going to be ignoring that text,

since that seems to be a thing.”

 Out of pure spite I ignored that as well. It was rude and unwarranted, but apparently he wasn’t done. About an hour after every one got off work I received a 48-page text message. It took a whole two minutes for it all to come through. I had to just silence my phone and walk away from it. These texts told me that he was very upset by our confrontation not because of what I said, but how I said it and the fact that I didn’t change the topic after so he wouldn’t feel as bad… I’d been dealing with very unwanted physical contact for days and had tried not to say anything so I didn’t hurt his feelings, but somehow I was the rude one. That makes sense. He went on to say that I had just ignored him for the rest of lunch. For once, I hadn’t ignored him. At lunch, I generally don’t talk to anyone unless they talk to me. Everyone pretty much accepts that except for him. He told me that I had been harsh, distant and unfriendly. I even said “Dude” to try to soften the blow. He told me again that he had forgotten about my aversion to touch and that he felt as if I had slapped him across the face. Then he confessed how he had been having a bad day at work I “put the icing on top.” He felt that I really didn’t want to be friends with him (Shocker!) since I really only talked to him when we play D&D and he had no idea why I would feel that way. He told me how he would’ve handled the situation by texting back because that’s what friends do when they have a concern or problem. The rest of this book of a text he tried to tell me how good of a friend I am and that he isn’t trying to manipulate me…

For the next few weeks he tried to get me to go eat with him a few times and criticized my boyfriend for not cooking for me on Valentine’s Day when I said that I would be the one cooking. Other than that we were much more civil to one another though I still tried to keep my distance. He even fixed my computer and put the movie Moana on it as I had been dying to see it.

Last Thursday it started getting scary. The previous day he had sent me a picture of him wearing a leprechaun hat and beard with the words “Oh yeah!” over Messenger. I looked at it and then promptly went to bed. I woke up to three videos from Facebook, I think they were supposed to be funny but I didn’t watch them, and a message saying, “Btw, that pic of me deserved an lol!!” I still didn’t reply. Then as soon as I got to lunch he joked that I should have at least laughed at it. I told him, “I’m sorry I don’t feel the need to respond to all of your texts.” He shut down and pouted for the rest of lunch and didn’t say ‘bye when he left. That was essentially the same thing he didn’t back at the beginning of February.

Over the next week there were so many texts I can’t remember what all he said. After work he sent texts to Brandon and me saying that he wouldn’t be at D&D because he didn’t want to be around anyone. Then he sent another text complaining about me that was only supposed to go to Brandon. He apologized of course and I told him I understood that sometimes people need to blow off steam, but I was annoyed and needed sleep so I was done talking. He was angry after that and sent me a book complaining that I wasn’t being understanding of his feelings since he had had a bad night, I’d been rude to him and now he was embarrassed about accidentally sending me that text. The rest of the morning he continued to tell me how I’m terrible and insensitive and that I needed to call or meet him so we could talk it out. I told him no multiple times and that he needed to back off. He didn’t.

That afternoon, he apologized. That sets the pattern for the rest of the week. Constantly insulting me, then apologizing and praising me, often from one sentence to the next. On Monday, he told me that this had all been because he was not taking his depression medication regularly. He also told me that the side effects of them were “related to erections, numbing in the penile region, and [his] libido.” That was much more information than I wanted, or had asked for since I hadn’t communicated with him at all since Friday morning. He asked me to talk to him on last break, saying that I owed him a face to face explanation. I got angry, angrier than I’ve been in a long time. I marched into the break room and told him I owed him nothing. I told him he had been harassing and bullying me all weekend and that I was done. I had hit my breaking point. He tried to explain it away, saying that he hadn’t meant to, that it hadn’t been his intention to do that. I told him again that I was done and I left. He didn’t come to work the next day.

When he did come back the following day he had shaved his head. As in, Brittany Spears meltdown, it was all gone. I didn’t speak to him and did my best not to even look at him. It was quite peaceful until the end of the day when he texted to ask if I minded if he still attended D&D. Brandon and I had discussed it that day Jordan was absent and we were both of the mind that we didn’t want him there. When he wasn’t harassing me, he was harassing Brandon about me and, according to Brandon, it was getting obsessive. I told Jordan I didn’t want to be near him. He didn’t say anything more until I got to work Thursday.

I pulled into my normal spot, on the phone with my mom, when I see my boss walking up to my car. He told me Brandon had mentioned something was going on with Jordan and me and he wanted to hear my side. He then realized I was on the phone and said he’d come find me later to discuss it during actual working hours. I had about twenty minutes to fret on the phone with my mom. If Brandon had said something it must be worse than I thought. I had been more worried that he’d hurt himself than me, but obviously Brandon was concerned. That was alarming to me. Then I got yet another text from Jordan that dwarfed the others not only in size but in malice. This alarmed me too. Not long after work began, my boss found me and I told him everything. I let him look through all of the messages, though nobody really had time to read ALL of them. He said he would let HR know and that it would be taken care of. I never heard more about it from him, but Brandon told me yesterday that he’d told Jordan not to talk to me anymore. Jordan apparently complained for the rest of the night that I had filed harassment against him because I couldn’t admit that I was wrong… I’ve been warned by a couple people now to be “…cautious.”

I haven’t seen or heard from him since then, although Brandon says he’s still harassing him about me. Mostly, I just want to be left alone. The more I think about this, the scarier it all gets.