#I think I'd need to go on for much longer to really hit the end of my point here

[lilacs-stars]

aiming for your heart

this is part 1, read part 2 here! pairing: james hook x fem!reader (requested) (note: reader is glinda the good witch's daughter) SUMMARY: you agree to a tutoring session with your pirate classmate, but things end up taking an...unexpected twist. GENRE: pure fluff, a bit of banter CW: nothing much, just mentions of societal pressures WC: 7.9k (they just keep getting longer...)

A/N: I decided to finally do something cute and fluffy after days of working on dark angsty stuff and this felt like a much-needed breath of fresh air. it was so fun to write, so thanks to the anon who requested this for the fun idea! <3 please give me feedback and suggestions, I'd love to know your thoughts!

Up, swish, circle, flick. Up, swish, circle, flick. Up, swish, cir—

“Ahh, oww!” you cry out as a very solid metal object collides with the side of your skull. Your hand instinctively goes up to the spot on your head—which you can already feel starting to swell—as you wince in pain. 

You’re supposed to throw the ring in the basket, not at my head, idiot, you think to yourself as you grimace. 

“Oh my gosh, Y/N, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to hit you, I swear!” you glance around the room, locking eyes with your classmate just a few tables away, whose wand is still poised in their hand and a bewildered expression planted on their face. “I just can’t seem to control…this gosh darn wand…”

You let out a little sigh, trying your best to not be impatient. After all, you couldn’t expect everyone to be as experienced in this field as you are. 

You glance back at the student, who’s rereading their textbook pages for what’s probably the tenth time. As you watch them struggle, a pang of guilt hits you for being so mean and irritable. It’s not like they were trying to hit you, and even though it was just a thought passing through in the privacy of your mind, you still feel as though thinking something mean like that is wrong. 

You push your chair back and rise from your seat, wand tightly gripped in one hand. Walking over to your classmate’s desk, you give a small smile as you ask them, “Need any help?”

They look up at you with wide eyes. “Oh, yes, please! Enchantment of Magical Objects is literally the hardest class ever!”

You grin again, keeping your demeanor light and friendly, like always. “Okay, so first, you go up, then swish, then circle your wand back around, and finally flick, and then…”

You copy the movements with your own wand as you speak, small magical sparks flickering off it at your gestures. After you complete your little demonstration, you both watch as a hand-sized sleek metal ring, somewhat resembling a circular horseshoe, levitates off the desk and neatly lands in a bucket in the center of the room. 

Today’s assignment in your Enchantment class is to use the Aiming Spell to throw the rings into a bucket. Safe to say, it wasn’t really going well for most of the class. 

“Wow, that was amazing! You’re so good at this Y/N!” your now starry-eyed classmate exclaims. “And I can barely get my rings off my desk…”

“Don’t worry, you’ll get there,” you smile reassuringly. “After all, I’ve had a lot of experience around wands and enchantments.”

“Yeah, I suppose that is right. I guess not everyone can be as talented with magic as the Good Witch’s very own daughter.”

A small laugh escapes your lips, and you bid farewell to your classmate as you make your way back to your seat. They aren’t wrong, after all. Your mother, Glinda, taught you how to use a wand as soon as you could walk. You’ve been watching her use magic for ages, so it’s not a surprise to anyone that you’re top of your class. 

You sit back down, getting back to work. Even though you know you’ve already mastered the spell, you still have some class time left, which you decide to use wisely and continue practicing the spell. 

Staring at the pile of metal rings in front of you, you take a deep breath and begin the task of making each one levitate off your desk and make a perfect arch towards the basket. 

Up, swish, circle, flick. Up—swoosh!

A flying ring shoots straight past your face, barely missing you by only a few inches. You stumble backwards in your chair, quite startled. Still, it isn’t unusual to see objects flying around the classroom, or rather, objects flying where they’re not supposed to.

A moment later, another one whizzes past you again. Then a third, which gets so close to your face that you can feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Annoyed, your head snaps to your right, trying to figure out who keeps nearly decapitating you. 

You glance around, finally locking eyes with what seems to be the culprit. Chair leaning against the wall, tipped back on its hind two legs, sits a figure with deep brown eyes and smokey eyeshadow look to match. A smirk is planted on his face, a mischievous glint in his gaze. He wears a dark red jacket on top of a black dress shirt, the collar disheveled and his tie loose around his neck. Contrary to his tousled outfit, his medium-length brown hair is neatly slicked back. One of his hands leisurely holds a wand while the other rests behind his head, and combined with the way he has a leg crossed over the other, one would think he’s enjoying a nice day at the beach instead of sitting in class at one of the most prestigious academies in the land.

You fix him with a look, your gaze subconsciously morphing into a glare as he jerks the wand up, causing one of the metal rings in front of him to levitate a few inches off his desk. With a flick of the wrist, he sends it flying across the room once again. Having learned your lesson, this time you duck down, eyes following the disk as it soars across the room. You watch as it shoots straight towards its target, who expertly crouches as the metal ring hits the wall behind him with a thud, falling to the ground and joining the previous disks.

The target of these attacks is a boy you recognize to be a good friend of the ring-throwing troublemaker, with light brown hair brushed away from his forehead and dressed in a dark green shirt with a black choker around his neck. Morgie le Fay shoots a glare across the room to his perpetrator, making a face that could only mean “You’ll pay for this later.”

Another disk comes shooting at his head, and he ducks down yet again. This time, the metal hits the wall so hard, you worry it left a dent. Unable to take their child-like behavior any longer, you get up from your seat for the second time and stomp your way over to the disk-thrower.

“Hook!” you say as you reach his table. The man in question tilts his head towards you, looking up with an amused grin.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, lassie?” he replies, his accent crisp and unmistakable. 

You fight the urge to roll your eyes at him, knowing it would be terribly rude, even if he was getting on your nerves like no other. You settle for fixing him with another look. “Could you please stop hurling those disks around? It’s not the assignment, and you practically hit me!”

“My apologies, love,” Hook replies, still peering up at you, unbothered. You honestly doubt he means it, so you frown and try again. “I’m being serious, Hook.”

“As am I,” he replies, making you want to smack that stupid smirk off his face. Deep breaths, deep breaths, you remind yourself. Violence is never the answer. You find it funny how you can almost hear your mother’s voice as you repeat those words in your head, the ones she always tells you.

“So you’ll stop?” you ask, raising a brow and putting your hands on your hips to show him you’re not messing around.

“Ah, well, you see,” Hook starts, and it takes every ounce of benevolence in you to not internally combust at whatever excuse he’s planning to come up with. “I’m having a tad bit of trouble with this spell, love. No matter what I do, I simply can’t seem to lock on to the right target.”

At this, you raise your eyebrows again, disbelief laced through your every cell. “Why don’t you give it a go,” you say, jerking your chin towards the basket in the middle of the room. “You never know until you don’t try.”

Hook leans forward in his chair, righting it again so it stands on all four legs. He raises his wand, and if you didn’t know any better, you would think he’s actually concentrating on the task at hand. One of the metal disks rises into the air, levitating a meter above the floor.

Hook flicks his wand forward and the disk sails away, missing the basket in an almost laughable attempt at execution. Instead of the proper target, it lands on the edge of a file cabinet in the far corner of the room. You pray for the poor soul that will inevitably open one of its drawers, only to be smacked in the head by a piece of solid steel.

Eyebrows raised, Hook unabashedly turns back around to face you with that grin of his. “So how was that, love? Satisfied?”

“Not quite,” you huff, shaking your head at him. “Honestly, I haven’t seen anyone make such a…uh, interesting attempt at this assignment.” Deep down, a little part of you really wants to say much meaner things, but you bite back your words, knowing that showing contempt never did anyone any good.

“Interesting, eh?” Hook’s smirk grows, and you can see him already scheming inside that villainous little mind of his. “Say, Y/N”—he uncrosses his legs, leaning in your direction—“you’re the top student of this class, are you not?”

You narrow your eyes at him, but refrain from saying anything you know you’ll later regret. “Yes, and?”

“Well, as you can clearly see here, I require a bit of assistance with this assignment. After all, not everyone grew up waving wands like you,” he quips, flourishing the wand in his hand as if it were an ordinary stick. Abruptly, he stills his movements and drops the wand on his desk, before turning to face you directly, locking eyes. “Would you be so kind as to teach me a few things?”

You quirk your brows, albeit attempting to keep a straight face. “Are you asking me to…tutor you?”

Hook grins yet again. “This evening, 7 o’clock, the common area in the East Wing.” He puts his hand on his knees as he gets up, now leering a few inches above you. Still holding your gaze—although he has to tilt his head down to do so—he asks, “I’ll see you then?”

You blink twice, mind replaying the events that led to you getting yourself stuck in this situation. On the one hand, you definitely don't want to have a one-on-one study session with a villain—and an annoyingly smug one at that. Honestly, the few interactions you are forced to have with him in class are far enough for you. 

But on the other hand, he is asking for help to improve his grades…after all, it’s not every day someone the likes of him shows interest in learning. Plus, you know that it’s not right to turn away a person in need of your help, no matter how insufferable they are. Especially if they’re always flashing you a smile filled with shining white teeth and full, plump pink lips.

A sigh escapes your mouth before you can stop it as you resign yourself to your fate. “Alright, I guess. But come prepared to learn. That means you need your wand, your textbooks, notebo—”

He cuts you off with a passive sweep of his hook, much to your annoyance. Leaning in just a little closer to you, enough to make your palms slightly sweaty, his face tilts down even nearer to yours. “It’s a date, then,” Hook says, his voice soft but still with that teasing tone it always seems to carry.

“It’s not a date!” you call out as the bell rings, but he’s already making his way out of the classroom, sauntering off to do who-knows-what.

Heavens, what have I gotten myself into, you think, placing a hand on your forehead as you breathe out a long, heavy sigh.

The evening rolls around far too quickly for your liking, and before you know it you’re making your way out of your doom room and up a set of stairs.

You keep on thinking about how you had ample time to back out of this arrangement; plus, you would be lying if you said you didn't consider it a number of times. But each time, you remind yourself that you are doing a good deed for someone obviously in need of a good influence. That you have to be selfless and put aside your personal feelings to serve a good cause, as all heroes do. That your opinions don't really matter—after all, the best heroes are the ones who make the deepest sacrifices, right?

So that’s how you find yourself dragging heavy feet across a corridor, a tiny voice in your head begging you to turn around, as you finally reach the common area set as your meetup spot. You glance at your wristwatch, which reads 6:55. You had decided to leave a bit early so you could arrive with a few minutes to spare. As your mother always reminds you, “It’s better to be an hour early than a minute late.”

Pulling out a chair at a nearby two-person table, you sit down, plopping your bookbag next to you. You had stuffed it full of your personal notes, your wand, and several textbooks you thought could help Hook. 

Tapping a pencil on the wooden desk, you sigh, glancing at your clock again. 6:57. Thinking back on your previous decision, you wonder why you left so early. After all, you have Hook down in your mind as the type to be extremely unpunctual. Leaning back in your chair out of sheer boredom, you start to clearly picture Hook showing up a good hour late. Heck, you’d be surprised if he even shows up at all. 

The clock hits 6:59, and you begin to debate how long you’re willing to stay here before giving up and returning to your dorm. Would ten minutes be enough? Fifteen? Thirty? The more you think about it, the more you can imagine this being some sort of elaborate prank to trick you. After all, why would a delinquent villain like Hook ever be interested in planning a tutoring session?

You sigh once again, angry at yourself for being so naive as to fall for his little trick. Drumming your fingers on the table as you put your head down, you mentally punch yourself for your gullibility. 

Which is why you nearly jump out of your own skin at the sound of a loud thud sound from in front of you. You jerk back into your chair, arms flailing as it tips, causing you to nearly topple backwards. With your reflexes kicking in, your hand latches onto the edge of the table—thankfully—and you manage to pull yourself back to a more stable position.

Hand clutching your pounding heart, you roll your head back to be greeted with that stupid little smirk that haunts your thoughts. “I didn’t mean to give you a fright, love. After all, we were planning to meet up, were we not?” Hook says, tone extremely smug and a tiny bit pitiful at your frightened state. 

You raise your arm and flick your wrist, reading the time displayed on your clock. 7:00. He…he showed up exactly on time, you think, praying that your shock isn’t displayed on your face.

As if he can read your mind—and in all honesty, maybe he can—Hook says, “You didn’t doubt me, now, did you, darling? How could I skimp out on our little date?”

“It’s not a date,” you tell him once again, not even trying to hide the annoyance in your voice this time.

“Whatever you say.” Hook gives a little grin as he raises his eyebrows for a second. Before you can continue to argue, he pulls out the chair across from you and sits down. You eye a small black leather satchel that dangles from his hook as he drops it down on the floor. Huh, he even came prepared.

He leans in, arms resting on the table, as he fixes you with a sly grin. “So, Miss Teacher, what are you going to teach me today?”

You hate to pass on the opportunity to make a snarky remark, but you know that rubbing Hook the wrong way is not going to make these next few hours any less sufferable. Instead, you simply go for a “How about you start by getting out your materials?”

“As you wish, m’lady.” An irritated sigh escapes your lips, and you realize you’ve been sighing a lot more than usual ever since you got in this…predicament. You watch, somewhat impatiently, as Hook reaches down and draws a single notebook and his practice wand out of the leather satchel. Glancing at his materials, then back at yours, you realize that you came a lot more prepared than he did, even though you’re not the one trying to learn here. Well, I guess him putting in some effort still better than nothing.

You pull out one of the thick textbooks from your bag, the used animal skin cover peeling at the edges and the pages yellowed from the wear of time. 

“First, we’re going to get started with the theory of enchantments and spells.” You flip through the pages until you land on the first of many detailing the basics of spellcasting. “Even though we’re going to be focusing on the Aiming Spell, the underlying principles are pretty much the same for all spells you use. Now, you see here, highlighted in the chart are the five main…”

You chance a glance over at Hook, voice trailing off when you realize he isn’t listening. In fact, he's not even looking at the textbook placed in the middle of the desk. Instead, his gaze is fixed on…

…you?

“Hey! Why are you staring at me like that, you weirdo!” you exclaim, pulling back from the table. Hook remains unflinching, his chin in his good hand as he stares up at you with a sparkle in his eye. 

“I’m sorry, I can’t help it, love. You’re just so…so entrancing.”

You blink hard, recoiling at his words. He’s not flirting with you…is he? No, there’s no way. Don’t be overly arrogant, you convince yourself. This is just his personality, how he usually acts. The same way he calls everyone “love” and “darling.” There’s absolutely nothing more to it than him saying anything he can think of to fluster you and throw you off track.

…Right?

You ignore the stupid little flutter your heart does at not just being called pretty, or beautiful, or any of the normal compliments. No, you aren’t normal, you’re entrancing…

Snap out of it! you internally scold yourself. This is just another one of his little antics. You’re just letting him win by getting in your head. 

“Look, I didn’t come here and set aside this chunk of my valuable time to tutor you, only for you to not listen. If you came here to mess around—” you rant, but you’re cut off before you can get everything off your chest.

“I apologize, lassie. I promise, I’ll focus from here on out,” Hook vows. You eye him with a glare, feeling very distrustful, but you’re only met with his rather sincere gaze.

You let out another breath, once again regretting agreeing to this. “Fine. Get out your notebook. You’re going to want to take notes on this.”

Hook nods and reaches into his satchel, which is still lying on the floor. “If I’m being completely honest—which I assume you must hold in high regard, being a hero and whatnot—I really didn’t expect you to be so…irritable.”

You shoot Hook another glare, before realizing that you’re just proving his point. You give a brief roll of your eyes as you attempt a smile. “I’m not usually like this,” you say, fighting to keep a decently pleasant expression on your face. “You just really find a way to, how should I put this, you really—”

“Push your buttons?” Hook finishes for you, raising his eyebrows.

“I was going to say you really find a way to get on my nerves, but that too,” you respond, with obviously forced cheerfulness. “Whatever, we need to get back to studying. For real this time.”

Hook replies with an “Of course, m’lady,” before you begin your lecture again on the foundation of enchantments. This time, he makes sure to periodically glance down at the textbook pages and occasionally nod or ask a question, all to ensure that you don’t catch him staring at you again. Unbeknownst to you, adoration shines bright in his eyes as he studies your features, committing them to memory every time you’re not looking his way.

You spend some time going over theory with Hook, until you can feel him growing restless, causing you to start wondering if people like him have a capacity for how much information they can absorb at one time. Deciding that theory is no good if it’s not put to practice, you slam the textbook shut once you reach the end of a page, standing up.

Hook looks up at you, a slightly startled expression on his face. “Come on,” you say. “Now we’re going to see how much you paid attention by putting your lesson to good use.”

You hope to see a look of fear flash across his face, but his demeanor stays completely even. Feeling a bit let down, you remind yourself that he still has to actually cast the spell. Watch him mess it up, you think. Let’s see how smug he is then, huh?

Reaching down into your bookbag, you pull out a small bundle wrapped in a piece of cloth. You open it to reveal a handful of metal disks, similar to the ones you had used earlier in class. You empty them out on the table before walking over to the middle of the room and placing the cloth down on the floor, a good number of meters away from your table. “This is your target area,” you explain. “Stand by the table and get those rings to land within the borders of the cloth.”

Let’s see how well you fare now, pretty boy.

“Aye, that’s not fair,” Hook says, scrunching his brow as he gestures towards your setup with his hook. “That cloth’s much smaller than the basket we used in class. And the distance is far greater.”

“Well, if you learn how to get the spell right with tougher constraints than the requirement, you’ll be sure to do great for the real thing.” You flash him a wink as you watch his jaw part slightly, an incredulous expression painted on his face. “That’s how I always ace my exams.”

Hook draws in a breath, putting his ever-famous smirk back on his face, although you can feel his unease this time. He picks up his wand, turning around to point it at disks on the table. 

Up. He rolls his hand upwards, and one of the disks starts to levitate a foot in the air.

Swish. Hook jerks his wrist to the side, causing the disk to start gently vibrating with potential energy. 

Circle. He rotates his hand counterclockwise, drawing a circle with the tip of the wand.

Flick. You watch with bated breath as Hook flicks the wand towards the cloth in the middle of the room. 

Both of you follow the disc’s arc through the air with tense anticipation, as it soars, soars…

…and ends up missing the cloth by a good three feet.

Hook gives a small, halfhearted laugh, trying to keep up the suave facade. Yet you notice the way his shoulders slump forward, the way his body stiffens in an embarrassing shock. 

Part of you feels a wickedly twisted satisfaction at his failure—but as soon as you recognize it for what it is, you shove it away, repulsed at the thought of you even coming close experiencing such an emotion. Plus, the majority of you feels rather disappointed at the undesirable outcome. Whether it’s Hook’s chagrin rubbing off on you, or the voice in your head whispering that you, as his teacher, failed at your job, you can’t help but feel a bit let down at his messing up.

“Hey, it’s fine. Let’s try again,” you say softly, your usual eager-to-help manner coming back at the sight of someone needing comforting.

And so, Hook tries again. And again. And again.

Finally, after the seventh or eighth try, he puts the wand back down on the table. “I don’t know what to tell you, love. No matter how hard I try, it’s simply not working.” You sigh, looking at the floor before you, which was now littered with disks. “Hey, at least you got closer each time! That’s still progress.” You attempt to raise his spirits a bit, but he just fixes you with a look that tells you he’s not one to fall for your false positivity.

“Uhm…” You hesitate, not quite sure what to do next or how to fix this. “How about you see how I do it, and try to copy that?”

Hook gives a small nod and you fish out your wand, pulling up your sleeves and taking a deep breath to prepare. Focusing on one of the disks on the table, you start the particular movements. Up. Swish. Circle. Flick!

Both of you watch in somewhat astonishment as the ring curves perfectly through the air, flying with grace, as it lands directly in the center of the cloth.

Hook looks at you with raised eyebrows. Although that little part of you wants to rub it in his face, the fact that a hero, out of all people, bested him, you decide that torturing him with your teasing is only going to make him less likely to get the spell right.

“You see that? Now, try to copy it yourself,” you instruct.

And so, Hook makes a few more attempts, landing closer to the cloth each time, now only a couple inches away—yet never actually making contact with it.

You study his movements carefully as he casts the spell, trying to figure out what he’s doing wrong. After a few more of his failed attempts, you decide to try a different approach.

“Okay, watch me do it again, but this time come hold my wand from behind so you can get a feel for how I cast it,” you say, glancing up at Hook. “After all, it’s all in the wrist.” You recite a line your mother always says, one that often replays in your mind as you cast a spell. In your opinion, her guidance is the main reason that you’re so good at spells.

You’re still sitting down in your chair, pushing it in a little to provide room for him to come up behind you and reach your wand. 

You were expecting Hook to get rather close; after all, there aren’t many ways for two people to hold the same wand in the position you were in without a tight proximity. What you weren’t expecting was the way he comes up from behind you leisurely, deliberately. The way his chest presses into your back as he leans in, arm brushing against yours as he extends it towards the wand. The way you can feel his exhales on your skin, breathing down your neck—literally—causes goosebumps to rise up and down your arms. The way his natural aroma engulfs you completely, overwhelming your senses all at once. How his large hand feels on yours as he places it on top, curling his fingers around the wand—and yours, as well. The way you can feel the smirk dancing on his face, looking down at you with what you expect to be half-lidded eyes. 

And the way your heart races, good heavens. If you didn’t know better, you would have thought you just ran a marathon. Your body simultaneously heats up and freezes at his touches, no matter how small, your mind becoming overly aware of every point of contact you have with him. You fight against the overstimulation flooding your senses, resisting the urge to wipe your sweaty palms on your legs, while hoping that the wand doesn’t slip out of your hand as perform the incantation. 

Truth be told, although you definitely won’t admit this to anyone: you really haven’t had much experience with romance, or anything of the sorts. All your life, you’ve focused on doing good deeds and keeping up with your studies, aiming to be the best of the best in the hero world. Which is probably why no boy has ever taken interest in you; instead of going to dances or out on dates, you've always spent your Friday nights locked away in your room, studying hard to make sure you ace your exams. Plus, with your goody-two-shoes streak, you aren't exactly the most sought-out person in your class.

Which is why with the way Hook flirts with you, and now, the way you can feel his inhales and exhales against your skin—subconsciously trying to match the rhythm of his breathing—your brain is short-circuiting. The lack of romantic attention you’ve received your whole life is behind why you don't know how to react to Hook's antics, while still internally freaking out at his movements and words.

You inhale a shaky breath, trying to steady your quivering hand and hope that Hook doesn’t notice your reaction. But after the amused little hum he gives, your embarrassment grows by the second. Trying your best to focus on the task at hand, you say, “Okay, here goes.”

Up. You feel Hook’s grip tighten around your hand, just a little bit but still enough to make your heart skip a beat.

Swish. The disk vibrates with extreme intensity, to the point where you’re afraid it’ll break apart, despite the metal structure.

Circle. As you circle your wrist around, you feel Hook’s arm rub against yours even more, causing your breath to hitch in your throat. Gods, the things this man is doing to you.

Flick. You flick the wand towards the cloth yet again, jerking your head sideways to follow it as it flies across the room. Agonizing in how it ignites every nerve in your body, you feel Hook’s head brush against the top of yours as he follows your movements, watching the disk soar.

It seems, for a minute, as if it’s going to land right on top of the previous one. But to both your shocks, it falls just outside the borders of the cloth, barely touching the edge.

Your face absolutely burns in embarrassment, palms dripping with sweat now. Hook tilts his head towards yours—which you feel all too well—as he says, far closer to your ear than you would’ve liked, “Well, it seems like even the master makes mistakes, love.”

Fuming, you finally give into the urge and drop the wand to wipe your hands on your clothes. Screw him, you mentally curse. It’s all his fault. I’ve never messed up this spell before.

And as much as you want to blame him, you know that it’ll do you absolutely no good to tell him the fact that he was so close to you made your brain short-circuit to such an extent that you messed up a spell you could do since you were five.

You shake your head, refusing to accept your failure. “No, I…I don’t know what happened. It must have been a faulty disk. Just…I’m going to try again.”

Hook raises his eyebrows at you—or at least, you’re pretty sure he does, as you can’t see him from behind. You grab your wand again, and without even telling him to do so, Hook leans in and places his hand back over yours, your fingers trapped between his and the wand.

Internally, you find yourself growing impossibly more annoyed at him. Honestly, did he really have to go back to that position, the one that made you mess up the spell in the first place? You take a deep, steadying breath, forcing away all thoughts of Hook and how his dark brown eyes, beautiful and rich like the bark of the trees back in Oz, are boring into your skull right now. You simply can’t afford to get distracted again. Messing up the spell once is one thing—sure, everyone makes mistakes, don’t they? But twice? It would be absolutely inexcusable.

Twice would mean that you are not as adept as you thought you were, not talented enough in the one thing that you've been sure of for your whole life.

Remember the words.

Up, swish, circle, flick!

Fueled by your self-directed rage, you ensure that every movement you make is precise, sharp, and without a single tremor going through your hand. This time, the disk slices through the air with a clean, aerodynamic curve, and lands…

…right on top of your first one.

You beam, regaining your former confidence in your spellcasting abilities.

“The master may sometimes make mistakes, but they’re still the master,” you gloat. “Now come on, you need to practice till you get as good as that.”

You and Hook spend quite some time on practicing the spell, with you giving him pointers and him—surprisingly—improving. It seems as though your hands-on demonstration really helped him, as his skills greatly improved. 

Soon, in every set of ten rings he practiced on, he was consistently getting six or seven of them within the boundaries of the cloth, with one or two more landing on the edge, half-in. 

After one round where he managed to get nine of the disks touching the cloth—his personal best so far—you decide he needs something even more challenging.

“Woah, that was a really good round,” you praise. Hook turns to face you, and if you didn’t know any better, you would say that his normal smirk seems a little less snarky and a little more…genuine. 

“Still not as good as you, though, love,” Hook replies. You can tell he’s trying hard to maintain his nonchalant front, especially when it comes to academics, but the pride in his eyes and the earnest grip on his wand tell a different story. Honestly, you like him better this way. Less of him pretending to be a bad boy villain, and more of his real personality.

And in this moment, as you subtly study his features and think about his change in behavior over the past few hours, a thought that’s never even come close to crossing your mind suddenly pops up. What if villains, just like heroes, feel pressured to uphold a certain facade? The same way that you’ve always felt like you just have to be good, no matter the cost, no matter how hard it is for you, maybe villains feel the same way. Maybe they believe they always have to be bad, troublesome, and cruel. Even if that’s not who they truly are.

And through the lens of your new insight, you start seeing Hook in a different light. Just like how you feel as if being good and helpful and cheery all the time is a burden, how sometimes you wish you could just let loose and be selfish, maybe villains feel like being evil is a burden. Maybe Hook feels compelled to act smug and suave, even though that isn’t who he truly feels like being all the time. 

You begin to feel a deep sense of guilt for judging him based on his demeanor and criticizing his performance in class. Reflecting back, you realize that you had been unnecessarily harsh on him for something that is likely beyond his control. Gosh, I'm such an idiot, you think, shame burning your cheeks.

Shaking off your remorse, you put on another bright smile and try to respond as cheerfully as possible. “Hey, it’s still a huge improvement from sending the rings flying on top of a filing cabinet in the corner of the room. Or at innocent bystanders’ heads!” This time, you don’t encourage him because you feel pressured to do so, or because that’s who you know you’re supposed to be. You do it because deep down, in your heart, it’s what you feel like saying.

“Hmm, true,” Hook replies, angling his head to the side as he considers your point, the smallest of smiles still dancing on his lips.

“Now, for your final test.” At your statement, Hook raises a brow. “You need something different, something truly challenging. Something to prove your mastery of the Aiming Spell…”

You rack your brain for ideas, but nothing comes to mind. After a moment in silence, Hook speaks up. “I may have an idea.”

Glancing over at him, rather surprised—you were the teacher, after all—you gesture for him to go on. 

“Go stand over there by that wall,” he instructs, motioning with his hook to the wall opposite you two. “And put your hands up.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, fixing him with a look of wariness and doubt. You don’t move for a second, still too distrusting of him as you try to imagine what standing in that position has to do with casting a spell. Noticing your hesitation, Hook nods towards the wall again. “Well, go on, love.”

Still suspicious of him, you cave in and walk over to the far side of the room. Pressing your back against the wall as you raise your hands up, the position makes you feel as if you've just been caught red-handed in the midst of a crime. Hook still stands by the table, waiting patiently. You try to think back to the textbook pages you went over with him, wondering if you had accidentally taught him some sort of attack charm that he was planning to use on you.

Feeling your anxiety build, you wriggle your left fingers, wrapping your thumb and middle finger around the base of your pointer. You always wear a special, very pretty ring on that hand, a gift your mother gave to you a few years ago. Fiddling with it while twisting it around and around helps to soothe you, especially when you feel nervous.

But this time, when you go to repeat the same movement you always do, you feel the absence of the familiar metal surface and engravings etched into it. Glancing up at your hand, you confirm that your ring is indeed missing. The only trace of its former presence is the two parallel, circular indents in your skin from wearing it for so long.

Your panic skyrockets now at the loss of one of your favorite possessions, practically forgetting about Hook and the unease that accompanied his bizarre request. That ring had come with a special message; the night you got it, your mother had told you, “Remember when you were younger, and I told you that people are either good or bad? Well, that’s not quite true. No one is really black or white. We’re all just shades of gray. Some people are lighter gray, and some people are darker gray. And although we might be different shades, we all fall under the same color. Remember that, Y/N.”

And you have remembered it. Every time you go to toy with your ring, those words echo in your mind. Your mom had embedded the ring with a marble featuring a swirl of many different shades of gray, a reminder of the message that came along with it. You were too young to truly understand her words back then, but now, especially in these recent moments, you think you’re starting to fully grasp what she meant.

Snapping back to the present, you realize the serious problem you have at hand. “My ring!” you cry. “I could have sworn I had it when I came here…”

“Looking for this?” Hook’s smirk is back in full force. His left arm is raised, and on the crest of his polished metal hook, your precious ring glimmers under the golden lights projected from the ceiling.

“You…! When did you even…” your voice trails off as your mind catches up to your mouth. It must have been when he leaned in, while you were demonstrating the spell. That was the only time he had gotten close enough to you, although you don’t know how in the world he nicked it off your finger without you having the slightest hint.

Then you remember, quite painfully, how flustered you had been in that moment. If you were so distracted that you couldn't even cast a simple spell right, then you certainly wouldn’t have had enough brainpower to notice a skilled thief steal from you.

“Hey! Give that back!” you exclaim, huffing angrily, a frown etched deep into your face.

“I will, darling,” Hook replies smugly. “Now, raise your hands up again. And don’t wiggle your fingers around this time.”

“Give me my ring back first!” you demand, your previous annoyance towards him coming right back.

“Let me do this first, and then you’ll get your ring. Hands up.” At your glare, Hook tilts his head to the side and gives you a look. “Don’t you trust me?”

Well, of course not, is the first thought that pops into your mind. You’re a liar and a thief, and above all, a villain.

But then you remember your mother’s words, your earlier revelation and how, just for a moment, you glimpsed Hook through a different light. So, although you definitely won't go as far as saying that you trust him, you still empathize with him enough to give in to his request.

Wordlessly, you raise your hands back up to your sides, palms facing in front of you, while fighting the urge to fidget again. You debate whether or not it’d be best to close your eyes for this, but you ultimately decide that if Hook does try to pull any more of his little tricks, all your senses should be sharp and aware.

And so you stand, frozen, as Hook raises the wand. For a second, you think he’s going to cast the spell on you. But instead, he uses his good hand to remove the ring from where it’s stuck in his hook, instead placing it dangling from the tip. He points his wand at the ring, repeating the maneuvers you two practiced so many times.

Up. The ring lifts off his hook and levitates just in front of him.

Swish. It starts vibrating like the disks, but due to its small size, your cherished ring begins to rotate on its axis.

Circle. With Hook’s circular movement of the wand, the ring’s spinning accelerates, locking on to its target—whatever that is.

Flick. For one final time, Hook flicks his wrist, this time towards you.

You watch, your heart pounding as fast as ever, as the ring—your ring—curves through the sky as it falls, getting closer and closer to you. You slam your eyes shut for just a beat, unable to bear the anticipation, before remembering your earlier rationale again.

Eyes flying open instantly, you regain your vision just as the ring falls, falls, falls, landing…

…directly on your finger.

But not the finger that you previously wore it on. Your eyes widen again in disbelief as it slips perfectly around your ring finger.

“Uh…I…uhm…” you stammer, confused and shocked and overwhelmed with far too many things at once to form a coherent sentence. How in the world did he cast such a precise Aiming Spell, in a situation where it wouldn’t have succeeded had he been even a centimeter off? And if he was so precise with his location pinpointing, then why in the world did he put it on your left ring finger??

“Come on, spit it out, love,” Hook replies teasingly. “You can say it, don’t be afraid.”

Your mind is working far too hard for you to shoot him a glare, but you mentally do it anyway. “That was…impressive,” you finally admit, although you wish you didn’t when Hook’s smug grin grows twice as wide. Ugh, his ego is already big enough. I did not need to inflate it like that.

“Could you always cast the spell that well?” you ask, still stunned at his precision. You honestly couldn’t see how anyone who had been sending disks flying all across the room a mere few hours ago was now casting spells with the accuracy of someone who had been doing this for years.

“Why, of course not. You saw how I was earlier.” Hook’s grin grows even wider as he adds, “It’s all because I had a wonderful teacher.”

You still frown at him skeptically, walking back towards the table where he stands. “I highly doubt it’s because of that. I mean, I don’t know if even I could pull something like that off with such little practice.”

At this, Hook gives a little laugh. “What do they say, the student exceeds the teacher?”

You roll your eyes at him. “No, they call it ‘beginner’s luck.’ You should be happy you got it right this time, because you might not get so lucky on your exams.”

Hook grins again, and as much as you detest the pleasure he gets from teasing you—and though you’d never admit it—a small, dark gray part of you enjoys the playful banter between you two.

“That’s why I have you, darling. If I ever need more help, I’ll know who to run to.” He leans in close to you, so close, until his mouth is right next to your ear. You start having flashbacks to your previous experiences with Hook being in a close proximity, and the combined feelings from both your memories and his current actions causes your body to heat up in a way you didn’t even know was possible. 

He tilts his head down ever so slightly towards you, his lips feathering across your ear. “And you won’t be able to get out of helping me, my little goody-goody.”

Your mind is absolutely spinning at his words, his touch, his presence, his everything. You desperately struggle to formulate some sort of response, but just as you open your mouth, ready to question his choice of ring placement, a deep, low horn sounds, reverberating off the walls.

Curfew.

Hook breaks away from you as you glance down at your wristwatch. The clock shows exactly 10:00. Gods, how did the time pass by so quickly?

You glance back up at Hook, deciding to ignore the way he so alluringly whispered in your ear just seconds ago. “Well, uh, we have to get going, then,” you awkwardly say, scratching at your neck.

Hook stands there for a moment, staring at you whilst completely motionless, making you wonder what he’s thinking and what he’s planning to do. Just as you’re about to bid him a goodnight and turn away, he reaches his good hand out, grabbing your left one. He holds it delicately in his hand, his palm cupped upwards with your fingers resting gently on top.

Slowly, and while keeping his head up just enough to maintain eye contact with you the entire way down, he bends into a bow in front of you. Only does he avert his gaze when he finally reaches your hand, looking down at your ring, which still sits on your ring finger, as he places a kiss on the bright stone.

He peers back up at you, deep brown eyes wide and expressive.

“Until we meet again, m’lady.”

on to part 2! ->

taglist: @4ng3l-ch1ld @astrynyx @0strawberrysorbet0

just leave a comment if you want to be added to the taglist!

a/n: the demons I had to fight to not name this "if you like it then you shoulda put a ring on it" haha. anyways thanks for reading!

do not plagiarize, translate, remake, or copy my works, including my writing and images, in any way.

[lisacameron99]

Second (JJ x reader) (outer banks)

warning: angst, fighting, fluff, fluffy ending, feelings of insecurity, nakedness but no sex, illusions to sex

“I’m late, I know I’m late,” JJ said, rushing into the house. You stayed silent. There wasn’t much to say. “You’re soaked… did you walk?”

“Yeah, JJ. I didn’t want to stay on The Cut all night.” You deadpanned.

“Why didn’t you call somebody?”

“I did JJ! I called you! Pope! Kie! Johnny! Even Sarah. But nobody answered. Too busy helping John B find dad!”

“… Y/N…” JJ said, guilt swimming in his eyes.

“I mean, God, JJ. I don’t think I asked a lot when I asked you to pick me up.” JJ swallowed hard. He knew he fucked up. He knew he did. But they were so close on finding Big John, “And you don’t have anything to say because you know I’m right.” There was a beat of silence. “I’m going to shower. You should go back to Johnny, because he clearly needs you more than you think I need you.”

“Babe,” JJ ran a hand through his hair and over his jaw.

“Just - just - don’t.” You were growing more frustrated. “I’m going to take a shower.” You dragged yourself to the bathroom, piling you clothes by the sink. Stepping into the shower, you had it on the hottest setting your body could handle. The water pressure wasn’t the best, but you loved your little shower. Tears ran down your face, but you knew JJ wasn't going to be able to tell the difference between the tears and the water when it was on your face.

You prolonged your shower, longer than you normally would have, just so you could think everything through. Johnny was just going to have to suck it up and pay the water bill. JJ was sitting on the toilet, fiddling with his hat. He just wanting to be near you. You knew he did it as much for himself as he did you. You both thrived on both quality time and physical touch.

He handed you your towel when you opened the old curtain. “Thanks,” you muttered, squeezing your hair out and watching the drops hit the floor. You wrapped the towel around your body, drying yourself off.

You guys both made your way to the room you shared, and JJ threw an old shirt of his at you. Because you weren’t paying attention, it hit you smack in the face and fell on the floor. You stared at it before looking back to JJ. Your e/c met his blue and you both burst into laughter. JJ snagged it off the ground and pulled it over your head. A smile graced both of your faces as your eyes met.

“Hi,” you said softly.

“Hey.” He returned the gesture. You blinked, still keeping your eyes on his blue ones. After a few beats, he cleared his throat. "I'm sorry I wasn't there."

You shrugged, trying not to think about the stinging feeling in your chest. "It's fine." You said shortly.

"It's not." JJ said, rubbing your arms. "It's not fine. I told you I'd be there and I wasn't. I'm sorry."

"Well, it's done and over with now." You shrugged again before sitting on the bed. "No sense in dwelling on it."

"You think John B matters more than you do. And that's just not true." JJ responded. "I love John B, he's my brother. Always has been, always will be. But you matter to me. I love you. And I'm sorry that I made you feel as though you are less than him."

Tears welded up in your eyes. "I'm just very tired of this happening. JJ, I literally called you five times. I called Kie twice, Sarah twice, Pope twice, and Johnny three times and none of you answered. I mean, I work all the time because I have to keep groceries in the house, and the mortgage and the electricity bills paid for. Johnny takes care of the water and gas and what not, and you always, always, always do what you can, but I'm tired of being made second best just because I'm keeping us afloat."

"I'm sorry." JJ whispered, beginning to pace around the room. "I'm so so sorry." JJ sighed, mad at himself for making you feel low about yourself. "I love you, Y/N. More than I've ever loved anybody. I'm sorry that I'm bad at showing it, and I'm really sorry that I left you at The Cut today."

"I love you too, JJ. But we need to be better at being there for each other when we commit to each other." JJ pulled you to your feet and hugged you too him. Face planted against his shoulder, you wrapped your arms tightly around his waist. He threaded one hand through your hair and the other around your shoulders. You stood there hugging each other tightly for a few moments before words came to JJ.

"You don't need to be better at it, you already are great at it. I need to be better. And I will be."

You nodded slowly. "Okay."

"Let's go to bed, yeah?" JJ asked you, gesturing to the bed.

You nodded, flopping on the bed. JJ went to go on his side of the bed, but you dragged him to be on top of you.

When his eyes glanced up at you, you gave him a soft smile. "Hi."

"Hi yourself." He placed his mouth on yours and kissed you deeply. You both pressed into each other, trying to feel as much of each other as possible. Your hands ran through his hair, clutching tightly while his rans down your sides and planted themselves on your hips.

You finally pulled yourself away from JJ, panting as he kissed down your neck. What a perfect way to end the night, you thought to yourself, as JJ kissed further down. Make up sex was so underrated.

End.

lmk if you all want a part two!

[steviewashere]

I'd Like For You and I To Go Romancing

Rating: Teen and Up CW: None apply Tags: Post-Canon, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst With a Happy Ending, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Implied/Referenced Sex, Self-Sacrificing Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson Loves Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Loves Eddie Munson, Love Confessions, Lover Boy Steve Harrington, Sad Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart For @steddieangstyaugust Day 21 Prompt: "Please." Title taken from "Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy" by Queen.

💕——————💕 “Please.”

It’s said to him so quietly, Eddie almost doesn’t hear it. The same way he can’t really see, can’t make out the shapes in the room despite the one light through the window. Maybe it’s the panic in him, while he’s trying to fight his way through tears as he pulls his clothes back on. But the word whispered at his back makes him take pause.

A desperate little word. He wants it to mean something.

Eddie swallows. Quickly, he goes back to shimmying his jeans back on. Hits his rings on the belt buckle currently hanging loose from the loops of his pants. 

It’s not that he wants to go, but it’s that he should. He’ll give some lame excuse later. Something about Wayne needing him back home—despite it being late at night, despite the fact that everybody knows Wayne works the nightshifts. He’ll say it’s because he gets anxious sleeping in other people’s beds. That he even wets the bed sometimes, even if he stopped doing that more than a decade ago. Gets nightmares so violent and lurching, he’s afraid he’ll hurt somebody. He could say that he actually hates sleeping with another person in his bed.

Despite everything in him screaming that he needs it. Because he’s a lonely, lonely person. And always wanted somebody there, needed them so close they could almost climb inside his ribs.

But he fastens the buckle of his belt and continues on with finding his t-shirt.

“Please,” whispered again, so singular, yet so drawn out, and so heartbreaking. The word pierces through Eddie’s back, kills his heart on impact, and exits his chest in one clean pass. It makes him stop searching again. “Don’t go. You don’t have to go.”

Oh, but I do, Eddie thinks, because if I let this go on any longer than it already has, I’ll have to admit how much I love you. And if I admit it and you say nothing in response, I’ll implode right on the spot. I’m saving myself. I’m saving you.

He sniffs. Grabs a random t-shirt from the bedroom floor and begins to pull it over his heavy head of curls. It’s not his shirt, he comes to find, but isn’t surprised. It’s loose on his chest, but tight on his biceps. The shirt is lightly worn. Smells like amber, like cinnamon and vanilla. Not his cologne. Not like cigarettes or marijuana or citrus-bergamot from his Irish Spring. Eddie plucks at the fabric, pulls it farther away from the skin of his chest, where his heart—resuscitated—tries to kiss the shirt with every beat.

If he doesn’t get out of here, he’ll do something stupid like break down into tears. If he doesn’t get out of here, he won’t save face. And if he doesn’t get out of here, he can’t move on.

A pleading, “Eds, please,” hits him. “Please don’t go. Don’t do this to me, too. Please, baby, come on.” Then, the bed behind him shifts. And there’s warmth on his back. A gentle brush of lips to his neck.

Steve wasn’t as sleepy as Eddie thought. Go figure.

“I…I gotta go, Steve,” Eddie states quietly, “I checked my watch. Gotta be home for Wayne, y’know?” He remains as still as he possibly can. Because Steve can read him, he’s come to find. He’ll know that Eddie’s lying if he shifts from foot-to-foot even an inch.

“He’s not home right now,” Steve immediately points out, “it’s dark out. And it’s a weekday, he’s working.”

Eddie swallows again. “I just have to go, Steve.” He doesn’t face him, doesn’t think he could. Doesn’t move, also doesn’t think he could. Just hopes, beyond all else, that Steve will just accept that and go back to bed and forget this night ever happened. That he ever touched Eddie that way. That he ever let himself get involved with a person like Eddie—not because he’s a freak and not because he’s in a different tax bracket, not that he’s above Steve, not that he’s below Steve…because he’s just him.

He hears Steve heave a deep breath.

Then, soft and tiny, “I was going to make you breakfast,” Steve says, “but this doesn’t have to…we can forget this happened if that’s what you want to do.”

“I…Steve”—

“It’ll be hard for me to let go, but I can try.” That makes Eddie turn to Steve. To see him. His limp, sweaty hair and the fact he’s only wearing boxers. The downcast eyes and twisting, nervous hands in front of him. “You’re not the first, so I’ll be fine.”

Eddie’s stomach churns and his palms sweat and he swears that his heart is the loudest thing in this room—screeching and beating and crashing straight out of him. But he brings himself to meet Steve’s volume, to ask, “What do you want, Steve?”

“I want you to stay,” Steve immediately responds, “I want you to stay in bed with me. And…and I’ll wake up first and maybe I’ll find out that you drool in your sleep and then I’ll brush back a stray strand of your hair and I want to get up and make you breakfast and then you’ll be over the moon when I hand you a cup of coffee and it’s made the exact way you love it and then we can…we can…you can…”

He blinks. Blinks again. Harder the third time. “You can…?” Eddie prompts.

“You can find somebody worth loving out of me,” Steve timidly answers, “because I already love you.”

Unable to hold himself back anymore, he takes the few steps forward to put him face to face with Steve. And, in a moment of bravery, holds Steve’s head between his hands and kisses him. Soft and exploratory. Then, passionate and disbelieving. And another, for good measure, that’s in the shape of all the words he wants to say.

“You want that with me,” Eddie states, though it sounds more like a question. Steve nods anyway. “With me. Wow. I…I wish I was better at this part, at saying the good shit. But I do love you, Steve. I’ve been in love with you since we started this whole thing between us but I…I’ve never had something like this and it terrifies me the way you’ve nestled your way into my brain.” He runs his thumbs under Steve’s eyes, catching tears he won’t acknowledge, because he’s sure he’d start crying, too.

“Do you still have to go?” Steve asks quietly, small in a way that’s unlike him. “I don’t want to keep you here if you don’t want to be”—

“I’ll stay, Steve. I’m sorry that I…I’ll stay, I promise. Let me just—let me get dressed down again and I’ll make all this up to you, swear it.” He’s jittering out of his skin; he wants to run laps through the whole house, wants to climb the walls, scream if he has to. But, in a way that’s unlike him, he continues to cradle Steve’s face in his palms and with languid, thoughtful movements, he kisses Steve between his eyebrows, under his eyes, the tip of his nose, and again on his mouth. “I’ll stay as long as you want me,” Eddie promises, “you won’t have to worry about somebody leaving ever again.”

Steve smiles sticky sweet and soft like a stack of pancakes. “Good,” he whispers, “because I never want to let you go.”

💕——————💕

[larluce]

Arthur and Merlin travel back in time without knowing the other is from the future too AU

LINKS TO THE OTHER PARTS OF THIS AU HERE: PART 1 , PART 2 , PART 3 , PART 4 , PART 5 , PART 6 , PART 7 , PART 8 , PART 9 , PART 10 , PART 11 , PART 12 , PART 13 , PART 14 , PART 15 , PART 16 , PART 17 , PART 18 , PART 19 , PART 20 , PART 21 , PART 22 , PART 23 , PART 24 , PART 25 , PART 26 , PART 27 , PART 28 , PART 29 (You're here), PART 30

Gaius: (sighs) My boy, I don't think crying for your life to the King is going to work.

Merlin: Is not him I'm going to cry to.

Gaius: ...

Merlin: I know, I know. This is so absur-

Gaius: Brilliant! 😃 How didn't I think of this before? (quickly looks for some medicine and gives it to Merlin) Here, a couple of drops in your eyes should be enough.

Merlin: I can't believe you're really supporting this madness.

Gaius: Madness is what Arthur will do if you don't change his mind soon. (starts pushing Merlin out of his chambers) Now go, I can't keep the King assleep much longer. (ends to push Merlin outside and closes the door)

Meanwhile in Arthur's Chambers.

Arthur: (on his desk with a bunch of parchments with names, strategies and possible scenarios, thinking) This was not supposed to happen so soon. I had I plan goddamit! (sinks his face in his hands) Why father? Why do you always want to take away everyone I love? First Gwen and now...(sighs and gets the hands off his face) I hate you, so much... but I don't want to kill you. I don't want to do any of this, but I have to. You'd do the same for my mother. I hope you understand, because even now I can't bare the thought of you not forgiving me.

Merlin: (enters hanging his head)

Arthur: (letting out his frustration) May I know where have you been? 😡 This room is not going to clean itself. I have a lot of work to do and you are-

Merlin: (lifts his head to reveal two rivers of tears under his eyes, face red, hiccuping and whining)

Arthur: Merlin! (jumps from his sit and runs to Merlin, almost in panic) What is it?! Did something happen? (checks him, worried) Are you hurt?! Tell me!

Merlin: (thinking) Me eyes hurt! 🥺 Why does it have to burn this much? 😭(says) Please, Arthur, stop this! This is your fault! (hits Arthur's chest)

Arthur: What?! What did I do?! 😨

Merlin: (thinking) Shit, I did it backwards. (says) I mean, MY fault! (hits his chest) It's all my fault! (hits his chest harder) My fault, my fault!

Arthur: (very concern) Will you stop that?! You'll hurt yourself! Merlin! (grabs Merlin by the wrists) What's gotten into you?

Merlin: Please, Arthur. I can't-(thinking) Wait, I forgot to kneel. (drops to his knees)

Arthur: What the- 😨

Merlin: I can't live with myself if blood is spilled because of me! 😭 (tries to hold Arthur's hands, but can't see well through the tears so he ends up pulling his trousers in a crying mess)

Arthur: (definitely in panic now) What are you doing?! Merlin, stand up! My trousers are going to fall. Merlin! (kneels too and cups his face, comforting) I get that you're scared, but everything will turn out alright.

Merlin: (thinking) Nooo! It's not working! And I can't hug his legs now! (says) No! No! You have to stop this-Argh! (thinking) Damn it! It's burning too much! I can't open my eyes! (hides his face in his hands, pretending he's crying harder)

Arthur: (even more worried) Merlin look at me, please.

Merlin: (thinking) No! He'll realise I'm faking if I can't open my eyes. What do I do? What else was in Morgana's script? Oh, right! (says) If you do this, I… I'd rather… disappear! (faints dramatically)

Arthur: (catches him before he hits the floor in reflex) Merlin? (pats his face) Merlin! (shakes him) Merlin, open your eyes.

Merlin: (thinking) I can't. I fainted.

Arthur: Wake up, come on. Merlin! (Shakes him harder)

Merlin: (thinking) Ow! There is no need to be so rough. 😠

Arthur: (concern) He fainted.

Merlin: (thinking) Don't say!

Arthur: I need to take him to Gaius. (carries Merlin bridal style)

Merlin: (thinking) Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait! why are you carrying me like this? 😳😫

Arthur: (Runs outside with Merlin in his arms and yelling) Gaius! (Runs through the castle staff) Everybody, get out of the way! It's an emergency! Gaius!

Merlin: (thinking) There's no need to be so dramatic either! 🤦‍♂️

In Gaius' Tower.

Arthur: (enters kicking the door open) Gaius!

Gaius: (looks Merlin in Arthur's arms, alarmed) What happened?!

Arthur: I don't know! He-

Gaius: Lay him on the bed first. I need to examine him.

Arthur: (Lays Merlin on the bed quickly)

Gaius: (while checking Merlin) Now explain.

Arthur: (paces, anxiously) He came to my chambers crying and saying that this was all his fault, hitting himself like a madman. Then he begged me to stop the rebel-the back up plan and he kneeled, Gaius, he KNEELED before me! When has he ever done that? I tried to calm him, but he just wouldn't stop crying! And then suddenly he fainted!

Merlin: (pinches Gaius subtly)

Gaius: (realices he's faking) I see... (gets an idea) Oh, my poor, poor boy.

Arthur: (stops pacing) What? What is it?

Gaius: It seems that Merlin is in a very bad state of... anxiety, Sire.

Arthur: Anxiety?

Gaius: Yes, that! He fainted from the anxiety. I know he doesn't show it always, Sire, but Merlin is very... sensitive. Sometimes his heart cannot bear strong impressions and, apparently, the approach of a rebellion was too much for his... delicate heart.

Merlin: (thinking, offended) That's not true! 😠

Arthur: (thinking, between concerned and confused) How can this be? Not even when his father died I've seen him so distraugh. Does the rebellion really worries him this much? (says) But he'll wake up, right? He'll be fine.

Gaius: He will, but I fear that... (dramatic pause)

Arthur: What? Tell me!

Gaius: If he continues receiving news that could cause him any anguish he could become seriously ill to the point his heart could... stop beating completely.

Merlin: (thinking) Really, Gaius? 🙄 What was the need of making up this diagnosis?

Arthur: (desperate) No... No! there must be something you can give him! Some medicine, a treatment, ANYTHING!

Gaius: The only thing that can help Merlin now is rest and tranquility. ABSOLUTE tranquility.

Arthur: (sinks in a chair nearby, filled with guilt) This is my fault, isn't it? He's like this because of me.

Merlin: (thinking) No, no, no. Don't think that! ☹️

Gaius: You had no way of knowing this would happen, Sire.

Arthur: What do I do now? If I keep up with my plan I lose him if I don't I lose him too. (looks up at gaius with watery eyes) I can't lose him, Gaius. (thinking) Not again, not again. Please.

Merlin: (thinking, his heart beating like crazy) He... He never cared for me like this in my other life. It feels... nice.

Gaius: (puts a comforting hand on Arthur's shoulder) Rebellion is not the only answer. You said yourself it was just a back up plan. You can still reason with the King or we can put Merlin safe somewhere.

Arthur: But he'll be away.

Gaius: But safe. Isn't that what's important?

Arthur: ...

Gaius: Whatever it is you'll do, I know you'll make the right decision, your Highness.

Arthur: (sighs, stands up, aproaches Merlin and caresses his hand lovinly)

Merlin: (tries very hard for his heart and breathing to stay even)

Arthur: Tell me when he wakes. I need to take care of some things.

Gaius: Of course, Sire.

Arthur: (gives a last look at Merlin and finally leaves)

Merlin: (sits up as soon as the door closes) What the hell was that?! 😡

Gaius: That was me saving us all.

Merlin: "Anxiety"? "delicate heart"? "his heart could stop beating completely"? There was no need to scare him like that!

Gaius: You are the one who decided to faint. Why did you do that?

Merlin: Morgana told me to.

Gaius: (in understanding) Morgana! I should've known it was her idea.

Merlin: Yes, the idea was to use tears to persuade Arthur of not doing the rebellion. This is outright lying to him! And you know I hate lying to him, Gaius! (rubs his eyes) Ugh, my eyes still burn a bit.

Gaius: This should help (gives him a bowl with water and Merlin starts washing his eyes). I'm sorry I lied to Arthur, but I figured that if he was doing this rebellion to save you, the only way to stop him was if he believed you'll be in danger if the rebellion were to happen too.

Merlin: (sighs) What's done is done. (gets off the bed)

Gaius: What are you doing?

Merlin: Going to do my chores.

Gaius: You can't! You are supposed to be ill. Remember?

Merlin: So what? You expect me to stay in bed all day?

Gaius: That's exactly what you'll do. Now, lay down.

Merlin: But-

Gaius: Lay down.

Merlin: (recluntanly lays down) Can I read a book at least?

Gaius: I'll bring you some.

Time skip. Arthur with Kilgharrah.

Kilgharrah: I don't understand. Don't you want to start your reign, young Pendragon?

Arthur: Of course I do! But not at the cost of Merlin.

Kilgharrah: It's not just about saving him. It is Uther who persecutes Merlin and his kind. Even if Uther were to spare his life, which I doubt, your warlock won't be free until Uther dies.

Arthur: I know. But everything is getting out of my hands! I can't go back to my original plan and the back up plan is not an option now. (holds his head in desperation) How did everything turn out this bad? This never happened in my timeline!

Kilgharrah: Every change you've done, even if it was small, could lead to a complete different scenario. Being from the future won't prepare you for that.

Arthur: What do I do then? There's no pacific way to get out of this.

Kilgharrah: Maybe not pacific but, perhaps, a least violent one. Just enough to not worsen your warlock's state.

Arthur: Which is?

Kilgharrah: You needn't to involve others when the enemy is only one.

Arthur: ...

Kilgharrah: You already thought of it.

Arthur: (sighs) I did, I was just hoping you'll come up with something different.

Time skip. In Uther's chambers.

Gaius: (preparing another sedative)

Arthur: (enters) You don't have to do that anymore, Gaius.

Gaius: (turns to him, surprised) Sire!

Arthur: (smiles) Let him wake up. I want to speak with him alone.

Gaius: (nods in underdstanding) I'll prepare Merlin's things just in case.

Arthur: That won't be necessary, Gaius. Don't worry.

Gaius: ... Sire?

Arthur: (gives him a calm smile) You really don't have to worry, Gaius. I found I way to convince him. He won't be able to deny me this. You can go in peace.

Gaius: (unsure, but bows and leaves)

Arthur: (his smiles fades as soon as Gaius is gone, checks the doors are closed and then turns to Uther) This was not supposed to happen like this. (walks to the bed) I was going to give you an honorable dead, you were going to be remembered as a hero, even though you don't deserve it. You've hurt a lot of people, father. Murdered thousands of innocents in your grief... but aren't I about to do the same? Haven't I already done that to be where I stand? (pulls Uther's hair out of his face) It makes me wonder. Were you always a monster, father? Or you only turned this way when you lost my mother? You always insisted I marry for duty even though you married for love. Was it because you feared what I'll become if I were to fall in love like you? (lets a dry laugh) I guess what is inherited is not stolen. (grabs a pillow) There's a difference between me and you though. I'd never blame others for my own mistakes and I would never risk Merlin like you did with my mother. (holds the pillow close to Uther's face) I'm sorry.

Anhora: (appearing out of nowhere) Arthur Pendragon.

Arthur: (lets the pillow fall to the floor, almost jumping out of his skin, but quickly composes himself as he recgonises him) The keeper of the unicorns.

Anhora: Glad I don't have to introduce myself. I have come to deliver a message.

Arthur: (tired) Please don't tell me you'll curse Camelot. I don't have time for this. I let your unicorn go.

Anhora: For which I'm in debt with you. Whoever dares to slay a unicorn meets despair, but those who save one can be rewarded.

Arthur: Do you have an enchantment that can make my father forget all his absurd suspicions about Merlin? Because if you don't I don't know you how else you could help me.

Anhora: This is what I don't get. You spared the life of my unicorn, which is an act of a pure hearted person. Yet your heart is anything but pure. You are ready to enchant your father, to take his life just to fullfil your selfish desires.

Arthur: Is this my reward? A sermon?

Anhora: No. (gets a bracelet out of his pocket) this bracelet made of unicorn hair is a lucky charm. It could help turn chances at your favor, but it'll disappear as soon as you achieve your goal.

Arthur: You said could. You mean is not certain?

Anhora: You have to make your part and it'll only help you with one aim. The more short term and specific the better.

Arthur: That's a very useless lucky charm. 😒

Anhora: Useless or not it's yours. I beg you to use it wisely (extends the hand with the bracelet)

Arthur: (grabs it) Thank you.

Anhora: (about to leave, but turns) Prince of Camelot, if you keep down this pat you build and embrace the darkness in your heart to protect your love ones, that darkness will end up harming those you hold most dear.

Arthur: You think I don't know? You think I like doing what I'm doing? (laughs without humor) Is ironic. Where I come from you determined I was "pure of heart" for the same reason now you are determining I'm not. Because I wanted to save Merlin, to keep him safe. But even then I was willing to leave my kingdom without a heir just so he wouldn't die. My love was never pure.

Anhora: (with sadness) It was. It once was. One of the purest love I've ever seen. Or at least it could have been. Now it's corrupted.

Arthur: (surprised) You... you are-

Anhora: If something goes wrong this time, there will be no going back. And it will not be fate's fault. The blame will fall entirely on you, Arthur Pendragon. Are you prepared to assume the consequences of your actions?

Arthur: (serious) Yes.

Anhora: Then you are doomed (dissapears)

Arthur: (sighs and looks at the bracelet, thinking) This better work. (puts it on)

Uther: (wakes up) What…? Where am I?

Arthur: (takes a chair nearby and sits next to him) In your chambers, father. You had a seizure.

Uther: (still kind of groggy) Oh...

Arthur: Father, I know Merlin behaved very poorly and I take complete responsability for that. I've given him too many liberties since he is under my service. I failed to properly teach him how he should adress his superiors and for that I'm sorry. It won't happen again, but please, I beg you, spare his life.

Uther: (smiles softly) Alright, I'll spare him.

Arthur: (very surprised) Really? (thinking) This thing is more effective than I thought!

Uther: (smiles more brightly) Of course! Anything for my son.

Arthur: (thinking) ...okay, something's wrong. (says) Father, how many fingers do you see? (raises 3 fingers in front of his eyes)

Uther: Hmmm... Six!

Arthur: (lets out a sigh of exasperation, thinking) No! He's still drugged! It won't matter if he spares Merlin's life now, he'll take back his words as soon as he comes back to his senses...unless... (stands up and searches around the room quickly)

Uther: What are you doing son?

Arthur: (picks a parchment and a quill and sits back next to Uther) Can you show me how you sign your treates, father? I want to see if I'm doing it correctly.

Uther: My son, always looking for perfection. Alright. (signs)

Arthur: (thinking, looking at the parchment) The writing is stable enough. (says) Father, I just remember there are some urgent documents that need to be signed. I really don't want to bother you, you've just woken up, but you're the King. You're the only one the can do it.

Uther: I understand. You can bring them to me.

Arthur: I'll be right back. (stands up and goes to the door)

Uther: Arthur!

Arthur: (turns around)

Uther: I love you, son.

Arthur: (thinking, holding back the tears) Of course the only times you've told you loved me would be when you're drugged or in your deathbed. (says) I love you too, father. (leaves)

...

Anhora I hate you for stopping Arthur from killing Uther but I also love you cause now Arthur can go back to his original plan :D

How will Uther react when he comes back to his senses? Will Merlin really be safe? Find out in the next part of "Merlin: The Favourite of crocodile tears"

Also credits to my best friend Rosangela, who is practically beta and almost co-writer of this AU now.

Tagging @aceauthorcatqueen , @fallenxjas , @smileytrinity ,@lucifertookmyshoe , @an-entity-i-think , @thecornerofbelu , @griffonskies , @odinjm , @cinnabon-sweetroll-tiramisu , @thelady-mary , @bennedict , @nightninjaboy , @st8-of-grace , @star-rie , @error-username-not-available , @dogberryrowan , @jamieweasley13 , @tansyuduri , @tercais , @robynnemrys , @evadne01 , @serasvictoria02 , @hairdryerducks , @hopeaha , @curiously-lazy , @ harriettesthings , @andrealux16 , @wacko-weirdo , @greatdonutenemy , @yougottobekittenme , @anxiousosaurus , @kinkforwings , @someweirdassnamee , @impracticalantlers , @miyriu , @hobipabo , @whitemaskcd , @cute-girl-next-door , @bogslob , @tkmaras , @cunts-and-kermits

[orchidniins]

Craving Your Touch | Arthur Hill

Summary: Where after a long day of filming with the boys and the whole day away from you, all Arthur has been craving is your touch. Pairing: Arthur Hill x afab!Reader Warning: Fluff, Smut Word Count: 3.7k A/N: Thanks for the request anon! This turned out to be a lot longer than I had planned. I hope all my Arthur Hill girlies love this!

Masterlist

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You managed to pull yourself out of bed after a particularly long day at work, making your way to the train station. Shivering as you stepped out of the car, you pulled your jacket closer to your frame and shoved your hands into the pockets, trying to stay warm. 

'I won’t get that drunk' he had said. 'I can get home on my own' he had insisted. But you knew better.

Every time Arthur, George, and Arthur(TV) went off to some random city or town to film another platform roulette, your boyfriend would inevitably be incapable of standing upright by the end of it.

Tonight in particular, you had hoped that he would go a little lighter on the drinks so you could head to bed early and finally get some much-needed rest. But the night had other plans for you.

Not that you were complaining; you loved taking care of your boyfriend. Arthur was always super adorable when he was drunk, but he was also incredibly clingy. Cuddles, head scratches, undivided attention—he would demand it all tonight. And from the last few messages and the FaceTime call you just had with him, it was clear he was completely sloshed.

You waited at the platform where the three of them were supposed to arrive. It was way past 11 PM at this point, and the platform was basically empty. After a minute or so, the train came in, and out stumbled the boys and their videographer. ArthurTV had his hand draped across your boyfriend's shoulder, and they were singing the lyrics to "I Want It That Way" at the top of their lungs as they walked along the platform. You stood there, amused at the sight in front of you, and laughed a little at their antics.

Arthur's eyes lit up when he spotted you waiting for him. "Y/N! My love!" Arthur shouted, stumbling towards you with a wide grin on his face. He nearly trips over his own feet as he reaches you, arms wide open to engulf you in a hug. You caught him just in time as he almost tripped over his own feet, his sudden weight making you stumble back slightly. The strong scent of beer and alcohol hit your nose as he pulled you closer, kissing all over your face.

You giggled, trying to push him off gently. "Arthur, stop! You're going to knock us both over!" you laughed, smiling at his adorably drunk state.

Meanwhile, George and ArthurTV were chasing each other around like a couple of golden retrievers, occasionally bumping into each other and stumbling off balance. George gave you a playful salute when he saw you, while ArthurTV flung an arm around George's shoulder, waving enthusiastically and nearly toppling them both over in the process.

You wrapped your arm around Arthur's waist to steady him. "Hi, baby. Just how much did you drink?"

Arthur looks at you, his eyes half-closed but filled with adoration. "Just a little," he slurred, holding his fingers close together to emphasize his point. "But it was good fun… please film with us next time." 

You laughed and shook your head. "I think I'll leave the chaos to the three of you. Someone has to stay sober to pick you up."

Arthur's expression softened, his eyes twinkling with affection. "You're the best, you know that? I don't know what I'd do without you." he says, before placing a soft kiss on your lips.

You turned to George and ArthurTV and waved them over. "Come on, let's get all three of you home." Seeing just how drunk they were, especially ATV.

"Nooo, I wanna go with you," Arthur protested, clinging to you, his arms wrapping around you tightly. "I missed you," he whines, nuzzling his face into your neck. 

"I missed you too, but we really need to get you home," you said gently, trying to move him forward so you could start guiding him towards the parking lot.

George, who seemed slightly less drunk than the other two, came up behind you. "Don’t worry about us, Y/N. We’re fine. Just worry about him," he said, nodding towards Arthur. "He had to drink a bunch extra because of some forfeits and stuff. I’ll make sure Mr.Television gets home."

You looked between them, unsure. "Are you sure? I can give you a ride back." During this time, Arthur’s head was nuzzled into your shoulder, mumbling about god knows what, and you were doing your best to keep him up on his feet.

ArthurTV shook his head. "Nah, we’re good. We can manage. You just take care of our boy here."

Arthur's eyes lit up as he pouted, his arms still wrapped around you like a koala. "That’s settled, let’s go back to your place," he said, his voice full of neediness.

"Alright, alright," you laughed, balancing his weight as you waved goodbye to George and ArthurTV and made your way to the parking lot. "Say goodbye to the boys, babe."

"Bye, boys!" Arthur shouted, waving dramatically. "Love you!"

As you finally reached the car, you removed your arm from around him and dug into your jacket pocket for your keys. You clicked the button to unlock the door and looked up to see Arthur leaning against it, his head down and eyes closed. The two of you were only illuminated by a streetlight a little distance away, casting a soft glow on his features.

Despite his drowsiness and evident exhaustion, he looked incredibly handsome. His tousled hair fell over his forehead, and you couldn’t help but smile at him.

You gently touched his cheek. "Hey babe, Arthur, you feeling okay?"

He opened his eyes, looking back at you with a drunk smile on his face. "Yes, baby, I'm great," he murmured, his voice thick with affection. He grabbed your waist and pulled you closer, and you settled into the space between his legs.

"I love you," he said softly, his warm alcohol scented breath fans against your skin.

"I love you too," you replied, smiling up at him.

He leaned into you, quick to close the gap, kissing you. His lips moved against yours with a mix of need and tenderness, the taste of alcohol lingering between you. Your hand came up to rest on his chest, feeling his heart pounding beneath your fingertips.

The kiss deepened, becoming more passionate and urgent. His hands slipped under your shirt, his warm touch sending shivers down your spine as he gently rubbed your bare back.

You found yourself leaning more into him, welcoming the heat of his body against yours. His lips were insistent, and you felt a rush of desire as his tongue brushed against yours. You stayed like this for a while, lost in the moment, the intensity of the kiss making you forget the cold air around you.

Finally, you were the one to pull away, his lips chasing yours as you rested your forehead against his, taking a moment to catch your breath. The cold air filled your lungs, a stark contrast to the warmth of his embrace.

"I love when you take care of me," he whispered against your lips, his hands tightening around your waist. His hand moved up, his fingers brushing against the back of your bra.

You placed your hand on his forearm, stopping his movements. "Arthur, let’s get you home first," you said, trying to pry his hands off you.

He whined a little, not loosening his grip on you. "But I want to stay close to you," he pouted, nuzzling into your neck again. "I need you baby."

You playfully scolded him, "Arthur, it’s almost midnight. We should get home. And I have work in the morning, so will you please let me get you in bed?"

He smirked at your words, his eyes filled with longing. "As long as you're in bed with me, I wouldn't mind," he replied cheekily, his voice dripping with playful suggestion.

You rolled your eyes but couldn't help but smile at his response, “Just get in the car…”

You managed to get him into the back seat of the car, fastening his seatbelt before getting into the driver's seat. As you started the car and began the drive home, you glanced back at him through the rearview mirror, finding him already half-asleep.

You managed to get Arthur home and into your apartment, his weight leaning heavily on you as you guided him to the bedroom. He was still buzzing from the alcohol, his steps unsteady but his grip on you firm. The warmth of his body pressed against yours, and you couldn’t help but smile at his tipsy antics.

"I missed you so much," he mumbled, his face nuzzling into your neck as you walked. You chuckled softly, feeling his warm breath against your skin. "Yes, yes... so I’ve been told," you teased gently.

Arthur mumbled something into your neck, his words slightly slurred. You couldn't help but giggle. "What was that?" you asked with a grin, leaning your head closer to catch his words.

"I missed your touch," he murmured, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. His words carried a vibration that resonated through your body, emphasizing just how much he craved your presence and affection.

Once inside the bedroom, you gently guided him to sit on the edge of the bed. “Okay…let’s get you out of these clothes” He gave you a lopsided grin, lifting his arms to make it easier for you to pull his shirt over his head. You gently pushed him back onto the bed, and he watched you with half-lidded eyes as you undressed him down to his boxers.

You changed into your sleepwear, a comfortable oversized shirt that barely reached your thighs, and you could feel his eyes on you. He watched intently as you moved around the room.

As you tried to walk past him towards the kitchen to fetch him some water, he sat back up on the bed, reaching out to grab your hand and pulled you closer. His eyes pleading, "No, don't go," he murmured softly, his voice tinged with longing. "I need you…close to me." 

His hands slid around to the back of your thighs, pulling you closer with a drunk grin on his face. And before you knew it, you were on his lap, straddling him. His hands roamed up your back, sending shivers through your body.

As soon as you settle onto his lap, Arthur leans in eagerly, his lips meeting yours with a hunger born from longing, mingled with the effects of alcohol.

His fingers tangle in your hair, gently tugging as he deepened the kiss. You melted into him, your hands resting on his shoulders, feeling his muscles tense under your touch. His movements are more sluggish than usual, yet hasty and rushed at the same time.

He deepens the kiss, his tongue fervently exploring your mouth. His hands begin to roam over your body, one kneading your thigh while the other slips around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. 

You can feel the hardness of his cock pressing against your increasingly wet core. As you grind against him, the friction sends waves of pleasure through you, getting you just as horny and desperate as him.

"God," he groans, "You feel so good against me." His words were slurred, still under the influence, but the desire in his eyes was clear. "You're just so...so beautiful. I can't get enough of you. I need to touch you."

You slightly pulled away, dazed from the intense kiss. "Like what?" you asked breathlessly, your chest heaving.

He looked up at you, his eyes dark with desire. "Please, sit on my face," he pleads.

A rush of heat surged through you at his words, your heart pounding in your chest. "Arthur, you're drunk."

"I know," he replied, his voice barely more than a whisper. "But I need you. Please."

You hesitated for a moment, but you’ve never been able to say no to this man. 

Arthur's hands moved to the hem of your shirt, hesitating for a moment as if seeking permission. You nodded, and he slowly lifted it over your head, discarding it onto the floor. His eyes roamed over your exposed skin, filled with adoration.

"God, you're perfect," he breathed, his hands moving to cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples through the fabric of your bra. A soft moan escaped your lips, and you arched into his touch, craving more.

His lips left yours, trailing a path of fiery kisses down your neck, nipping and sucking at your sensitive skin, leaving small marks along your neck.

Arthur's hands trailed up your back, fumbling with the clasp of your bra. After a couple of attempts, he finally managed to unhook it, tossing it aside. His lips continued their trail along your collarbone, down to your breasts, capturing a nipple in his mouth. Sucking gently and teasingly flicking with his tongue, his other hand kneading your other breast. 

Your hands trailed down his chest, fingers lightly brushing over his hardness, as you peeled yourself off him. Hooking your fingers into the waistband of his boxers, you pulled them down. His erection sprang free, and you couldn't help but admire how needy he looked, his cock already leaking precum.

You can’t help yourself as you move to touch him, but he gently stopped you, "No, you first," he begged. 

You agreed with a teasing smile. "Okay, lay down."

You slipped your panties off, sliding them down your legs and kicking them to the side. 

Arthur’s eyes don’t leave you, hooded with desire, his cock hard and glistening with precum.

You climbed up the bed, letting out a shaky sigh as you positioned yourself over his face. Hovering above him, your thighs on either side of his head, you could feel your heart pounding in your chest. 

His fingertips caress your thighs, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. His lips followed, kissing each inch of your skin, nipping lightly with a teasing heat. He sucks a hickey onto your inner thigh, making your whole body tremble with anticipation.

As you hover just above his mouth, you feel his breath hot against your core, the heat of his desire palpable. Arthur's impatience grew, his eyes dark and filled with need.  “Just sit, love,” he urged, his voice desperate.

His hands gripped your hips, digging into your skin and guiding you to sit on his awaiting mouth. He looked up at you with a mixture of adoration and lust, licking his lips in anticipation.

Suddenly, he placed a kiss on your clit before his tongue slipped out to lick a wet stripe through your folds. He groaned into your clit, sending a shockwave through your body, a soft moan falling from your lips. 

“Oh fuck, Arthur,” you groaned. You let your hands fall in front of you, gripping the headboard almost immediately at the feeling of his hot tongue swirling over your wet folds.

"God, I love you," he breathed, before his mouth immediately latched back onto your clit. You gasped, your hands flying to his hair to steady yourself as he began to eat you out intensely.

His tongue worked with expert precision, flicking and circling around your clit before dipping into your entrance, poking and prodding at your gummy walls. Each movement sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body. You arched your back, your moans growing louder.

The sight of Arthur underneath you was honestly one of the sexiest things ever. His dark, hooded eyes watched your every reaction, drinking in your pleasure. Your head fell back as you felt your walls beginning to quiver on his tongue.

“You taste perfect, love,” he moaned, sucking on your clit and making you whine. He hooked his hands under your thighs, digging into your flesh as he pulled you down even closer. You worried that you might end up suffocating him, trying to push up off of him, but Arthur was completely pussy drunk and did not let you budge.

“Oh, Arthur... don’t stop,” you moaned, your voice shaking with desire. “Just like that...”

His tongue was relentless, sucking on your clit, lapping away at all your juices. He meticulously tortured you with his tongue, switching between long licks and quick flicks, dragging his tongue between your slick folds. The feeling was almost overstimulating, and you felt the knot inside you building up, ready to spill at any second.

“Fuck, I’m so close,” you gasped, your thighs trembling as one hand gripped the headboard for support, the other tugging harder at his strands. He only responded by sucking harder, his tongue pressing against you in just the right way, pushing you dangerously close to the edge.

“Arthur, baby... I can't anymore,” you cried out, grinding your hips down onto his lips, his tongue sliding over your swollen clit. His mouth never ceasing its relentless assault, driving you wild with pleasure.

“Cum, baby, use my face,” he groaned between licks, his voice muffled but urgent. And use his face you did. Arthur’s eyes never left your face, watching every expression of pleasure as your juices spilled all over his face.

“Oh God, Arthur!” you moaned, the intense sensation overwhelming you. You felt a mess as he tried to lap up every drop, your body shaking with the force of your orgasm. You really felt like you were suffocating him now, but his strong grip still held you in place.

You moved off of Arthur’s face to sit on his torso, still trembling from the intensity of your orgasm. He used one arm to sit up while the other squeezed your thigh reassuringly. Your eyes settled on his face, his adoration for you evident in his gaze.

"God, you taste incredible," he praised, his fingers tracing lightly along your thigh. "I almost came just from the taste of you."

Arthur leaned in to kiss you, his lips hungry and demanding, letting you taste yourself on him. The intensity of the kiss made your mind go blank, lost in the sensation of his lips and the mingling flavors. He pulled away slightly, running his finger along his lips.

"You have the most intoxicating taste," he murmured, his eyes dark with desire. "But what I really want..." He paused, his gaze smoldering as he looked at your lips. "I want your lips on me."

You gave him a mischievous smile, your own desire stoked by his words. With deliberate slowness, you slid down his body, your hands trailing over his chest and torso, feeling the heat radiating from his skin. You positioned yourself between his legs, your fingers wrapping around the base of his throbbing cock. It was angry red from arousal, pre-cum glistening at the tip, and you licked your lips in anticipation.

“You look so fucking good right now,” Arthur groaned, his voice husky with desire. You responded with a teasing smile, leaning down to place a soft, lingering kiss on the head of his throbbing cock.

You took him into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the head before slowly taking him deeper, savoring the taste of him. The saltiness mingled with the heady scent of arousal, driving you to continue. Arthur's breath caught in his throat as you worked your tongue with expertise, your hand stroking the parts of him that couldn’t fit in your mouth. He moaned softly, his hips bucking up into your mouth instinctively, pushing himself deeper into your eager mouth.

Arthur's fingers threaded through your hair, his gasps growing louder with each skilled stroke of your tongue.

“God, Y/n,” he breathed, his hand tangling in your hair as you began to bob your head up and down. His moans spurred you on, your mouth working eagerly, hollowing your cheeks to create a delicious suction that made him curse under his breath. With each movement, he struggled to hold back his release, his hips trembling as he approached the edge.

You moved your hand in tandem with your mouth, stroking the base of his cock while your tongue danced along the sensitive ridges and veins.

"I'm close, I’m not gonna last love." Arthur groans, his voice strained with the effort of holding back.

You looked up at him, your eyes locking with his and the sight of you with your lips stretched around his cock, your eyes full of lust drove him absolutely wild.

“I’m gonna… oh fuck, I’m gonna cum Y/N,” Arthur warned, his grip on your hair tightening.

You hummed in response, the vibration sending shivers through his entire body. You could feel him throbbing in your mouth, his release imminent. You increased your pace, your hand and mouth working in perfect harmony to bring him to the edge.

You glanced up at him, your eyes locking with his as you continued to pleasure him. But despite his efforts, Arthur couldn't hold back any longer. With a sharp intake of breath, he tensed beneath you his eyes shutting tightly and he releases into your mouth.

You swallowed him eagerly, your tongue swirling around to catch every drop of his essence.

"I think that's the most I've ever cum," Arthur murmured, a sheepish smile playing on his lips. You chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

"Same," you replied with a light laugh, the shared moment easing the lingering tension from your passionate encounter.

For a brief moment, you both gazed at each other, the air filled with unspoken affection. Arthur broke the silence, his voice filled with warmth. "I love you," he whispered, his hands gently caressing your sides.

"I love you too," you replied softly, meeting his gaze with a smile that mirrored his own.

Once you two get cleaned up settle back into bed. "Now come here. I want to hold you," he says before moving to lay down and pulling you gently onto his chest, pulling the covers over both of you.

He softly brushes his fingers through your hair, pressing a tender kiss to your temple.

"I can't believe you're mine," Arthur murmured, his eyes tracing your face lovingly.

"And I can't believe you're mine," you whispered back, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead.

"Now, let's get some sleep, okay?" you suggested, and he wraps his arms around you snugly. He pulls you close, his lips brushing against your forehead.

"Okay, darling. Goodnight," Arthur whispered, his eyes growing heavier with the comfort of your presence. 

"Goodnight," you murmured back, feeling a sense of peace settle over you as you listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Contented smiles graced both your faces as you drifted off to sleep, wrapped in each other's arms.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

A/N: Thanks for reading guys! I'm trying to get through all my pending requests now that I'm back.

Check out my other fics and oneshots here. Not working on any new requests currently but feel free to drop into my asks for a chat! 😊

[tokutaiseichan]

Characters Awakening Lines Translations

After posting the lines for Jin and Rui, I felt like translating other characters too so here we are!

Please note that since I don’t have access to all of the characters’ lines, most of the raw lines are taken from the unofficial JP wiki. The texts are all there so if any of you notice any errors/mistranslations, feel free to correct me!

FROSTHEIM

Jin

Awakening: To think I'm receiving alms from my servant... Should I kneel in front of you? Fully Awakened: Trust is something that can be broken easily. Don't you dare come any closer than you already have.

Tohma

Awakening: This feeling… It appears that you want me to keep reaching out for the top. Is that how it is? Fully Awakened: With this power, we're one step closer to achieving our goal. And I'm* going to make sure we see it through the end. [*he's referring to himself as “ore” instead of his usual “”watashi” here]

Luca

Awakening: I devote myself to protecting the weak, for that is the path I have to take. Fully Awakened: I'll become stronger than anyone. I don't want to lose anything important to me一not anymore!

Kaito

Awakening: Could it be… even someone like me can get stronger too? Fully Awakened: You have done so much for me! This man, Kaito, will no longer run away!!

VAGASTORM

Alan

Awakening: This power is dangerous. Stay away from me. Fully Awakened: I don't really know what’s appropriate to say for this kind of thing, so… well… umm, thanks a lot.

Leo

Awakening: C'mere, Honor Roll~ I'll show you those guys’ ugly crying faces too~ Fully Awakened: Obviously. If I don't like someone, I’ll take matters into my own hands and create hell on earth just for them. There's no such thing as divine retribution, you know?

Sho

Awakening: Thanks for waiting. Well? What do you want me to do now? Say it clearly. Fully Awakened: Sure, okay. I got it. If it's your request, I'll make sure to at least listen to it through the end.

JABBERWOCK

Haru

Awakening: That sure hits the spot~ Now I don't even need those energy drinks! Fully Awakened: I'm going as far as this road is going to take me. I made a choice to walk down this path and it's not something I can just simply throw away.

Towa

Awakening: Heheh~ Did I get stronger? How interesti~ng. Fully Awakened: I wonder why humans are such foolish, whimsical, and pitiful creatures… yet they manage to still be so lovable?

Ren

Awakening: Doing something like this… Senpai, what are you planning? Fully Awakened: Geez! Even if you look at me with those expectant eyes, I know you'll just get tired of me right away…

SINOSTRA

Taiga

Awakening: Gyahahahaha! Aren't you one greedy little kitten~? But I don't hate that about you. Fully Awakened: A hasty greed and a sincere wish. There's no big difference between the two of them.

Romeo

Awakening: Come now. Is it really the time to be charmed by my beauty? Fully Awakened: I need to be perfect all the time一for that is my way of staying triumphant on this world.

Ritsu

Awakening: This will help in furthering my career. Fully Awakened: I definitely will become the best attorney in Japan, and then I shall ensure my father's name will be clear from all the alleged infamy he's received.

HOTARUBI

Subaru

Awakening: I’m so happy that you're right here beside me to watch me grow. Fully Awakened: “Ignorance is Bliss" and “Silence is Golden”. Don't you agree that it's unreasonable to try and break the admonitions we inherited from our predecessors?

Haku

Awakening: Oi oi oi. Don't expect too much from me, you hear? Fully Awakened: If our life were decided by the things we were born with, you bet I'd be the first one to kiss that kind of life goodbye.

Zenji

Awakening: It seems that my capability has bloomed yet again! Fully Awakened: I was wrong, my dear. As it turns out, dreams are not to be kept as just an idealized fantasy but something we should achieve with our own hands.

OBSCUARY

Edward

Awakening: Oh dearie me. If you whip my old bones any harder, I might actually die this time, you know? Fully Awakened: Sometimes a youthful folly can lead one into committing grave sins. So I hope that you keep this in mind一remain modest and cautious.

Rui

Awakening: Thanks a bunch for working hard for my sake~ I really mean it! Fully Awakened: It's fine if you ended up forgetting about me. I simply wish for you, of all people, to become happy.

Lyca

Awakening: Thanks. I want to show the current me to Neros soon. Fully Awakened: I’m going to work hard. I don't want to come back to those hellish days anymore.

MORTKRANKEN

Yuri

Awakening: This feeling! It stimulates my brain cells! Fully Awakened: I will pioneer the advanced road of genomic analysis for anomalies and establish myself as the best doctor in the world!

Jiro

Awakening: Thank you very much. I feel slightly better. Fully Awakened: I won't let you die. The reason I'm helping you? I don't really understand it myself either.

[kalims]

[ 10:50 ] — leona kingscholar needs to stop using his authority for you

"what the hell is this,"

you can't help but blank out at the several savanaclaw residents all individually holding fans that vary in size and color. they're all lined up in a surprisingly coordinated line and are currently heaving their items upwards to downwards repeatedly.

basically they're fanning you?

despite your clear equally confused and horrified reaction leona lays down in a long, comfortable chair a few distances away from you. it might be a good point to add that he's also receiving the end of cold air the students are generating so you can't help but think that he's obviously the person behind this.

apart from the backround characters who are sacrificing sore arms at his expense. leona had taken it upon himself to get comfortable, his hands are behind his bed. he peeks them open to cast you a glance. "what?"

your movements stutter from pointing at the students behind him and then at leona, holding a lost face. "uh—you can't just force your residents into labor," you wince and emphasize with the pained grimace one of them displays.

heck, they're getting red in the face.

leona, who raises a brow at you like he didn't do just that pauses at you before scowling. "weren't you the one complaining all about the heat yesterday? I'm doing you a favor that's all," he explains and your jaw drops.

but that was normal! who would even assemble some type of.. club dedicated to fanning people? you just said it in the moment as an expression!

plus it really was hot. at this point if you told leona it was too cold he'd probably get about a hundred heaters installed in the dorm.

"but that was literally a joke, If I knew you'd do this to these poor students I wouldn't have said it at all," even if you're technically siding with them they still manage to side eye you a look that tells you they're offended.

and from your experience they probably think that you saw them as people who can't handle the heat.

figuratively and literally.

leona and his acts of service can get a little out of hand after all. you promised you'd be careful with whatever you'd say but it's hard now when you honestly just wanna joke around.

last time you jested about a room in savanaclaw that isn't leona's he actually made it work and boom, there's now a vacant one beside his own. though leona said that there's no need because you inhabit his own room so much that you can practically call it your own.

which isn't exactly wrong..

"you guys can go, if you want," you gesture at the group who falters for a second.

then leona looks at them over his shoulder.

"anyone?"

they all stiffen up and yell. "no dorm leader!" and another exclaims something about being glad to even work for leona while the others quickly fall into sounds of agreement.

you huff at leona who's thoroughly enjoying the artificial breeze created by human labor. his hair is flowing with the direction of it which gives you all the more reassurance that he's enjoying this much more than he bargained for.

"you're scaring them," you deadpan, and he shrugs. "fear demands respect, they respect me that's all,"

"aren't you gonna join me?" he tilts a head to an open space next to him and you're surprised he hasn't taken up the space all on his own and actually reserved a spot for you.

you clear your throat and cross your arms. gee, whatever this was is oddly enticing. you can feel how much heat your body lost from being hit by the side of the wind. you're no longer sweating profusely at the attacks of summer and can only daydream at how heavenly it would be if you were in the middle.

... you're starting to see why leona looks like he's enjoying himself.

"why should I?"

"it's my gift to you, isn't it rude to disregard it just like that?"

oh wow so this whole thing was a gift?

"is this a trap? I know, those fans are poisonous aren't they?"

he deadpans at you. "if I wanted to kill you I'd have done it another way, plus,,, it's not everyday I'm in a good mood enough to spoil you,"

"you call this spoiling?!" in your idea it's quite far from it but whatever he says..

you'd call it forced labor.

note. this is basically leona taking everything mc says too seriously. he's such a simp fr

[nonotnolan]

No Not Nolan's Year in Review

Once again, it's time for the traditional "year in review" post. Since I've also been collecting prior years in these posts: here's 2021, here's 2022, and here's 2023. This year has more than 12 posts, and that's because I posted a few shorter stories to celebrate the release of my eBook.

I'm not planning to abandon this account anytime soon, but I'd be lying if the thought hadn't occurred to me once or twice. Every year I'm not sure how much longer I'll be doing this, but then every year the support and feedback I receive keeps me going. So if you ever wonder if notes and reblogs help-- yes, they do motivate me to keep going. But more than that, I'd encourage you to message the authors directly. I'm not always the best at carrying a conversation, but it really does mean a lot whenever I hear from you all.

17) Side Effects - 71 notes - January 2024 Okay, well... I like this one. If you've already caused a lot of irreversible damage... why stop now?

16) Labor and Materials - 83 notes - December 2023 Sometimes I can just sort of tell the photos aren't what the average people are wanting, but I like the text too much to toss out the idea. Mass commercialization of body swapping isn't a new idea by any means, but I love exploring all of the low stakes uses and scenarios that would appear if that technology existed.

15) Shapeshifter's Night Out - 111 notes - January 2024 Honestly, this one was mostly just an excuse to pull out a few of the weirder photos I'd come across. I think it holds up well enough, though.

14) Fiverr Warlock: Holiday Magic - 183 notes - December 2023 The thing about the Fiverr Warlock series is that a lot of story ideas work better without the added baggage of the lore and narrator. This one holds up pretty well, and the photos do exactly what I need them to do, so I'm quite fond of it.

13) The Ends Justify The Means - 204 notes - February 2024 See, I thought this one was great, especially for the Valentine's Holiday. Sometimes I have no idea what the average reader wants from me, and this is a prime example of that. No regrets, though. I'm never going to apologize for striking more sentimental than erotic.

12) Jock Cock, Part 3 - 219 notes - July 2024 Speaking of which... I can't be too surprised something this sentimental didn't do better. But I still love it, and I don't feel bad about it. (It does, however, make me less inclined to write sequels to other works. My idea about how the story continues vs how people want me to continue the story are seldom in alignment.)

11) Drawing Straws - 235 notes - January 2024 I love trait swapping, and I wish I could get inspired to use it more often. I have to be satisfied with an idea before I'll set it to the page-- it needs to have some amount of characterization and plot outside of "hot guy does a hot thing and it's hot" for me to be happy with it-- so trait swaps don't happen too often for me.

10) Treat Day - 241 notes - January 2024 This is my least favorite of the 5 promo-stories, so naturally it's the one that received the most notes. Revenge swaps are hit or miss for me, but needlessly cruel swaps seldom appeal to me. I like the photos, I like the ending wordplay, but overall it's not one of my favorites.

9) Swap Broker: Social Climbing - 250 notes - October 2024 If there's any story whose low placement on the list hurts to see, it's this one-- I absolutely love this one. Photos, concept, resolution, all of it. Ahh, well. A few people asked me what happened to the original Aiden, which I don't have much interest in writing, but... his father would have given him a one time chunk of hush money, which he would have burned through in a matter of months, at which point he'd probably be forced to start doing hard work for the first time in his life. It's not a happy outcome, which is why it's not a story I'm particularly interested in telling.

8) Jock Cock, Part 2 - 285 notes - June 2024 Like I mentioned for Part 3-- I don't regret writing it, even if I don't quite understand why it wasn't as well received. I'm not sorry for mixing sincere emotions into your casual smut-- it was intentional, and it will happen again. Also I've been doing it for the past 5 years, so presumably you noticed me doing that at least once before? I'm sure it's not a photo issue. Anyway.

7) Spring Break - 313 notes - March 2024 I love it when both parties can get what they want out of a body swap. I've had quite a few stories involving out of touch rich people, now that I think about it-- but then, every idea has already been done before if you simplify it enough.

6) Bodily Betrayal - 319 notes - December 2024 I'm so thrilled to be working with photo-manip artists for future detachable limb stories. You all may not be bothered by my attempts to create suitable pictures, but I definitely am. I mean, look at these pics-- head/body swap? Headless with head in hand? I wouldn't have been able to do that without a lot of practice and training.

5) Trial Period - 351 notes - November 2024 I don't do much with ghosts, and I'm honestly not planning to change that anytime soon. Still, I love the idea of supernatural entities shopping around to choose their next host.

4) This Happens all the Time, It's Detachable - 376 notes - August 2024 This is another one that I absolutely adore, and as a bonus it's a detachable story that requires no photo-manip work whatsoever. Obviously, I had to go with the King Missile reference in the title.

3) Roommate Rehab - 407 notes - April 2024 I still think my photo-manip work is clunky, but it gets the job done, and that's what matters. The interesting thing about writing more detachable works is that I'm really not familiar with any of the tropes. I'm so used to subverting expectations when I write body swap fiction, but it's a lot harder to subvert tropes that I don't know.

2) Rush Week - 512 notes - September 2024 I'm glad this one did well, because it's definitely a lot more vulnerable than what I normally write. It's equal parts sincere and sexy, and I adore it. The thought of what stays with the body and what stays with the mind is one of my favorite concepts to explore with body swapping. On a different tangent, it was a lot harder than I thought it would be to find good photos for a twink model that pass tumblr guidelines.

1) Jock Cock, Part 1 - 732 notes - May 2024 This story came out of nowhere and completely surpassed all of my expectations. I have no idea what it is about this story that appealed to so many people-- probably obvious, given how few notes the other parts pulled. Is it the photos? The idea of using an athlete's body for sex without him knowing? Unfulfilled sex-with-teacher fantasies? I sure as hell don't know. Whatever the reason, I'm flattered.

Above 500 Notes - All Time

1) Jock Cock, Part 1 - 732 notes - May 2024 2) Soulmate Swap - 704 notes - August 2022 3) Gym Merchandise - 654 notes - September 2022 4) Overbearing - 572 notes - May 2022 5) Finals Week - 568 notes - May 2021 6) Group Project - 566 notes - November 2023 6) Revenge, Reversed - 540 notes - August 2020 7) Rookie Mistake - 530 notes - May 2023 8) Rush Week - 512 notes - September 2024 8) Information Overload - 501 notes - August 2021

Well, Jock Cock Part 1 has officially dethroned... uhh, literally everything else. Finals Week, my first piece to break the 500 notes mark, is quickly dropping out of the top 5. And some of these works received random resurgences several months (or years!) later, so that's always fun to see.

Enough time has passed that I have a sort of note rubric to determine success. Anything below 100 notes, I consider flopped. 100-300 is average, and 300-500 is a success. So to have this many stories above 500? It feels pretty good.

Here's hoping next year will see more additions to this list!

Special Mentions

Reunion - 151 notes - February 2024 Once again, @mergeman and I wrote each other stories for Valentine's Day. I do really love the idea of a support group for people affected by body swaps.

I'm always honored whenever I end up tagged in someone's recommended post, and @sanzaibian 's compliment of "someone who writes really sweet love stories ^^" is no exception.

Also, like I said earlier-- I live for compliments and discussion, both given and received. If you've dropped a line or responded to one of my outreach attempts, I appreciate you. If we've talked in the past but it's been a few months since you or I sent the last message-- I'm too ADHD for friendships that follow the constraints of linear time. If we go months between messages, know that I still appreciate you.

Is it too cheesy to end this with a "thanks for viewers like you" sentiment? Maybe, but I'm doing it anyway. I'd be having these ideas with or without an outlet for sharing them, so I really do appreciate the likes and reblogs. Here's to another year!

[cookinguptales]

You know... I hear people shitting on the orange peel theory a lot, and I do get the criticism. It's not healthy to introduce quiet little tests into your relationship. But... I don't know. I do think that "test" hits a little differently when you're disabled.

For the record, I cannot peel oranges. I haven't been able to peel oranges in many years; the joints in my hands are simply too weak and clumsy to do it these days.

I haven't eaten a whole orange in a very long time.

So I can see the appeal in the test, if I'm being honest. Handing someone I love a knife and asking them to peel an orange for me just to see what they'll do. I wouldn't actually be asking for an orange, though it'd be nice to have one, I suppose.

I'd really be asking...

Will I be able to eat oranges when I'm with you? And if I keep asking you to peel my oranges, will you begin to resent me for it?

Because I'd really be asking...

Will you accept me and all the things I can't do? Will you accept that a life with me will be harder? More inconvenient? Will you accept that I will always need help?

Do you care that I can't eat oranges?

Is it safe to love you?

There's this fear that I think all disabled people have to some degree, this fear that the people they love will slowly grow to resent them and their care needs. I can't think of anything that scares me more, honestly. And I know that, to a certain extent, I do test people who I know I want to love.

I'll do it on dates sometimes. (Or even just going out with friends I'm beginning to really warm up to.) I'll purposefully ask them to do an activity with me, and I'll warn them that I might have to do things a little differently. They usually say yes, no problem!

Some of them end up ghosting you at the very beginning, when you say you need to meet an accessible coffee shop instead of their favorite haunt. Some of them make it a little longer, visibly irritated while you wait in line to check an electric wheelchair out at the zoo. Or when you have to walk extra slowly around the garden. Or you need to sit every half hour or so at the museum.

Sometimes I'll ask them for something small that I might be able to do myself. Ask them to get me a water bottle or carry my tray to the table. Maybe ask them to hold my coat for a minute because I need both hands to stand up.

Some people can't handle even a few hours of that, the alternate entrances and the extra planning and the agonizing slowness that is me. And I know immediately that they'd never, ever be able to handle a lifetime of it.

That's fair, I suppose.

But man, when I meet someone who doesn't make me feel less than when we're out, even when I'm slow and tired and inconvenient, that's pretty special.

Maybe it's a little manipulative to arrange an outing just to see how people handle it. But god, god, I know how much it hurts to find out a week, a month, a year, a decade into your relationship that their patience will run out when you need it most. When you physically can't get up and get that water. When you're too sick to get out of bed for that movie date.

When you're running late after a doctor's appointment one too many times and they tell you that you always make things so difficult.

Once, a few years into college, I had plans with a friend to go out and grab dinner, but I had to cancel because I was flaring. When that friend offered to bring me soup instead, I cried. I'd never had a friend offer to do that before.

That's when I realized how much I'd internalized the idea that I wasn't worth being around when my disability was affecting me -- and that's one reason why I had never actively tried to date anyone before.

When someone is a real partner, they're going to see you on your good days and the days that aren't so good. They're going to see your condition deteriorate over the course of your life. They're going to notice that you can't peel oranges.

And what will they do then...?

After that evening, I did make more of an effort to surround myself with people who I trust to be around me even when I need help. And I've made an effort to trust the people who love me, to trust that they won't hate me even if I ask them to peel me the damn orange.

I still do most of my outings alone so I don't feel guilty about going too slowly. I still find it very difficult to ask people for help. And I still buy clementines, a smaller fruit that I can peel myself.

But man. Some days I think it would be really nice to eat oranges again.

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

Remember Me Dancing

Summary: When Y/N is struck by a wave of sadness, and missing her mom all over again, Jensen and Jared step up to turn her memories happy again.

Warnings: Nothing really. All fluff. Talk of grief and loss.

Pairings: No romantic pairing. Jensen Ackles x teen!reader, Jared Padalecki x teen!reader

Word Count: 1,204

A/N: I got a request that I'll leave as anonymous (just in case) that said this:

Hey I have a huge request. I was wondering if you could do a Jensen x teen!reader or a J2 x Teen!reader where the reader thinks of her mom that passed away and she hears a song play that her mom loved and she starts crying and can’t stop so she gets help by the guys and they calm her down. She then eventually tells them what’s wrong and they take care of her for the rest of the night. Today a song played and it made me think of my mom and I honestly needed comfort and wished it was them two. Thank you!❤️

This took me much longer than it should have and I'm sorry you had to wait a little while, hon. But I hope this story gives you a bit of peace and a smile. Sending you lots of love and healing.

A/N 2: As always, of course, this is a Jensen (and Jared) from a different part of the multiverse. This is a complete and utter work of fiction.

Y/N was doing better. Much better. She reminded herself of that fact as she sat in her trailer with tears pouring down her cheeks.

A light rap on her door had her swiping away the tears quickly. But not quick enough as Jensen opened the door and stuck his head inside.

“Hey sweetheart they're…” His voice softened. “waiting for us.”

He came all the way in, closing the door softly and moving to sit beside her on the small couch. “Baby, what's wrong?”

Y/N shook her head. “Nothing.” She said unconvincingly.

Jensen used his knuckle to brush away the latest tear to fall. “This isn't nothing.” He said gently.

Y/N shrugged and swiped her tears away with both hands this time. “Ugh, it's so stupid. I'm really fine.”

Jensen stayed quiet, just waiting. Finally, Y/N sighed. 

“I was just listening to music, waiting for the call to hair and makeup.” She said, raising her phone in her hands to show Spotify open on the screen. “And then this song came on that…well mom loved it, and she used to dance around the apartment to it.” 

A sad, fond smile took over her face. “I used to tease her so much, called her a dork. But she'd always pull me into her dorky dancing and I loved it.” 

She took a shuddery breath and closed her eyes. A tear fell from beneath her lashes. “What I wouldn't give to have one more dance party with her.”

Jensen pulled her to his chest and rubbed circles into her back while she cried. After a few minutes she sat up, wiping the damp patch her tears had left on Jensen's t-shirt. 

“Sorry.” She said in a wavering voice. Jensen just waved away her apology as she reached past him for a tissue and blew her nose.

“You know,” she continued as she sniffled, “I really am doing much better these days. It's just sometimes something like this will hit me and it's like…” She lifted her hand as though trying to reach for the words.

Jensen supplied them for her. “Like the grief hits you brand new, and it's as though no time has passed at all.” 

Y/N nodded. “Yeah.” She whispered. 

Jensen brushed her hair behind her ear. “Grief, loss, they're like that. I get it, kiddo. And everyone else will too. If you want to take off, I can drive you home.”

But Y/N shook her head. “No, I think I'd like to go do my job, you know, escape being me. Just for a little while.”

Jensen nodded. “Then after work, I have an idea.”

Y/N smiled. “What's the idea?”

“You'll see when we're finished work.”

Y/N wanted more information, but there was suddenly another knock and a P.A. called to her through the door. 

“Y/N, sweetie, they're ready for you in hair and makeup.”

In the end it was the anticipation that really distracted her from the sadness that sat in her chest. Because, as they went through the day, no matter how much she prodded, she couldn't get Jensen to spill the details about his plans.

Finally, after more than twelve hours, they were finished and Jensen drove her home. He followed her up to her apartment and as soon as they walked inside Y/N jumped almost a foot, as Jared spun around to face them.

“Hey darlin’! Surprise!” He said loudly, arms thrown wide. “Welcome to the dance party.” He pressed a button on his phone and music started playing out of Bluetooth speakers she definitely didn't own.

She laughed in complete surprise. Jared hadn't been on the call sheet for the day, so obviously Jensen had told him to come and set all of this up. The whole apartment had been turned into a kind of seventies disco, complete with strobe lights and a mirrorball. 

Y/N turned to Jensen, beaming, with tears brimming once again.

He pulled her into a hug. “I thought if we dance-partied hard enough, we could make some new memories to help cushion the old ones, turn them back into happy ones again. So you can remember her dancing, and smile”

Y/N just nodded, overwhelmed by her gratitude for these two wonderful men..

“Hey!” Jared complained. ”I'm the one who set this all up! Where's my hug?” Then without waiting for an answer, he wrapped his long arms around them both, catching her in the middle of them and squishing her flat between his chest and Jensen's.

Jensen groaned. “Dude. Yes, thank you! Now let the girl breathe!”

Jared pulled away with a huge grin and pounded Jensen on the back with the kind of vigor only the other big Texan could handle. Then he leaned down and kissed the top of Y/N's head incredibly gently. 

“We love you, baby.”

Y/N nodded. “I know. I love you too. And thank you.” She smiled and dashed away the last of her tears. “Let the party begin!”

Before long, more of the cast and crew knocked on her door, asking if this was where the dance party was happening. Ruthie, Rob, Mark, Felicia, and so many more friends all crammed into her relatively small apartment.

They danced and ate, and talked, and then ate some more. Everything ran smoothly, with food simply showing up at the door whenever people got hungry. One corner of the apartment was dedicated to board games and card games and friendly competition ruled the day - no one was immune.

But more than anything, they danced. Some were great dancers, some terrible, but talent didn’t matter, only fun. Y/N couldn't imagine how much energy Jared had put into planning the whole evening. It was incredible.

Eventually, hours later, Y/N sat down on her couch, and shut her eyes, just for a moment. But soon the lullaby of laughter and friendly conversation sang her into a light doze which quickly turned into a deep sleep. She only woke up a long time later, as the last guest left and the music was turned down but not off. The party lights were gone and the only light now was that of a soft lamp in the corner. She woke as Jensen was bending over her to scoop her into his arms and carry her to her bedroom.

“I fell asleep.” Y/N said, stating the obvious and burrowing her cheek into Jensen's shoulder. “Why'd you let me?” 

She let out a huge, sleepy yawn and Jensen chuckled. 

“That's why.” He said simply.

Y/N wanted to argue, but he laid her down in her bed and tucked the comforter around her and her words faded away. He kissed her forehead and squeezed her hand. 

“Sleep well, sweetheart. Jared and I will be here tomorrow morning to take you for breakfast.”

Y/N nodded and mumbled something and Jensen laughed again. “I'll text you about it, cause you're sleeping and won’t remember.”

Y/N wanted to disagree with him, but she was already asleep, her dreams mixing together old dancing and new into a happy tangle of good memories.

@lyarr24 @lacilou @deans-spinster-witch @globetrotter28 @suckitands33

@alwaystiredandconfused @jzackles @jackles010378 @impala67rollingthroughtown @krazykelly

@candy-coated-misery0731 @envyaurora95 @spnwoman @deans-baby-momma @luvr4miya

@arcannaa @viviwatchestv @winharry @ladysparkles78 @kr804573

@whimsyfinny @lastcallatrockysbar @kazsrm67 @slut-for-evans-stan @sexyvixen7

@nancymcl @hobby27 @waywardcheshire @libby99hb @k-slla

@leigh70 @eevvvaa @kickingitwithkirk @foxyjwls007 @roseblue373

@mishkatelwarriorgoddess @avanatural @mrsjenniferwinchester @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @deangirl96

@stoneyggirl2 @fanfic-n-tabulous @traiitorjoe @b3autyfuld1sast3r

[sssilverstoned]

while you can still smell them ꩜ ln4

type: full length fic

word count: 3.9k

title from: i wish you roses by kali uchis

warnings: some fluff, angst, but like it's a happy ending. cursing bc i'm me, italics are memories

lily said: you know me i can never leave well enough alone. i thought this little snapshot of the break that was never really a break would be cute! for context, i'd suggest looking at the ig au linked below! this would be taking place in between part 2 and 3.

part 1

part 2

part 3

masterlist

You've only seen Lando cry on occasions that called for it. When family members died, when racing got too much for his mental, in some awful, awful moments. Maybe that's why it hurts so bad to see him cry now.

"A break feels a lot like you should add 'up' to that statement," he had said, turning away from you, looking out at the stars. You were sat on his balcony, feeling suffocated by the apartment. But the AC was on and working fine, and windows were open. Your emotions were suffocating you, that was more fitting.

"We can't keep on like this, Lan," you say in a broken voice, the lump in your throat thick and threatening. "It's not fair to either of us."

He doesn't realize he's crying until the drop hits his nose, making it quirk up in surprise. He swipes at his face, a pawlike move to get rid of the teardrops.

"Do you not love me anymore?"

His question makes you sob. Full body, head dropping to chest, your hands writing in your lap. The sound of you breaking down turns him back to you, rushing to the chair you've melted into. He lifts your face in his hands, and you take a breath when you see his face, discolored with tears.

"I'll always love you," he makes out of your words, just barely. "I, I just, it's not the same,"

"We can fix this, us. We can work on it together," Lando's brain is whirring at hyper speed, damage controlling the last 8 months of your lives together.

The cracks began to become schisms when he committed your largest pet peeve, which was ignoring things out of ease. Blissful ignorance, if you will.

It was small things, like forgetting about date nights in lieu of longer trainings or prolonging trips. Sometimes he forgot to water the plants, or didn't move laundry over, and that was manageable. That's what every couple encounters. What every couple does not encounter, was the intense pressure of racing a car for a living.

He was frustrated, with Zak, with anything papaya colored, and with his own self-doubts. He carried that frustration in his chest, and it came out in some of the words he spoke to you, and actions he took. You eventually stopped offering to come over and cook, because dinners were becoming continuously tense, and you were uncomfortable. Felt like a nuisance.

But at the same time, you were both so codependent. Without anything being said, you two began to avoid things you assumed the other wouldn't like, and asked for permission to do the smallest of things. You first noticed it when your sister pointed had asked you to come go with her out of town for the weekend, and you hesitated. "I'll have to ask Lando," you had told her. She bit her tongue.

Lando was just as bad, he had quite literally lost the ability to sleep when you weren't around. It made Grand Prix weekends an actual nightmare when you weren't there, calling you at any times in the day or night.

"Are you alright, it's 4am,"

"Sorry, can't sleep again. The melatonin does nothing,"

"Did you try the tea my mum got you?"

"Baby I just," he scrubs a hand down his exhausted face. "I just need you here."

"I can't just get up and go to Australia."

"I'll get you a flight, or maybe we can-"

"Lando," you say in a sterner voice. "I can't."

He's quiet for a moment, and you wonder what's going through his head. You hardly raised your voice or got intense, certainly never at him. But then again, recently, you seemed to never know what was going through his head.

It was silly to think that Lando was the same man that you began dating. You were 19, you would pray that he had changed somehow over the span of 5 years. But there was something missing that once was. The relationship was becoming more of a task, and that wasn't right. Which is what brought you to this moment, brought you to telling him you needed to talk.

"Lan," you whimper, bringing a hand up where his hold your face on either side. You don't even have to say anything more, he knows you better than you know yourself. And he begins to cry harder.

"I've never loved anyone but you, baby."

"I know."

"I can't, I really don't want to live without you," he shakes his head, standing back up to his full height. His hands stay busy, though, ripping through his hair.

"I'm not going to go away," you explain, agonized that you're calmer than he at this point. You stand from the wicker chair, but don't edge closer to him. "But my career is unpredictable right now, 6 months in Marbella is a long time. And you're, well, everywhere. And you need to focus on that."

"I've multitasked for 5 years," he says bitterly, making you sigh. His eyes are back on the stars, and his back to you makes your eyes blurry again.

"I'm not happy." You finally blurt, making his body stiffen. "I'm really not."

When he looks at you again, his expression reads clearly with fatigue, with anguish. "Please, baby, don't,"

It's your turn to clutch his face, bringing his forehead to touch with yours. Through your contact, you feel the heaves of his body, the breaths he's trying to control. "It's not forever," you whisper, mustering courage. "But we need to stop acting like everything's fine."

"I don't see myself without you."

"You're not," your hold tightens, he leans further into your palm, "but we've grown up together. The flower pot's too small now," you try to joke, he barely can fake amusement.

"I'll buy a thousand new pots."

"We need to clean up the broken one, first." His jaw clenches, you soothe it with your thumb. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." He says back, almost silently. "Still wear that Mclaren shirt on race days, I need the luck."

You finally crack a smile. "I'll wear the hat too if my hairstyle permits."

He kisses you, almost convincing himself this if is the last fix he can get for a while, he needed it now. Not that either of you know it, but you both have the same thought. You both notice that your cheeks have each other's tears on them now, not sure which ones came from whom. You were on the same page in that regard, at least.

꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜

"You should ask y/n out," your best friend says to Lando in the middle of a party. He chokes on his drink, not expecting her to come up to him like she did, and not expecting the words out her mouth.

You all were freshly 19, still congregating in someone's living room to try to have a good time. He knew your friends better than he knew you, the newest of the group in town, only having moved to the area with your family when you were 16.

"Should I, now?" He says, recovering from his fright.

"Yeah," she replies, ignoring the sarcasm. "She goes on about you, it's cute. She'd hurt me if she knew I told you, though. Not sure what she sees in you," his eyes narrow at the girl, which she ignores once again. "You'd be lucky to have a girl like her in your life."

That much, he knew. You were fiercely loyal to your friends and family, and treated him with a kindness that made him melt every time. You were funny, and genuine, and not to mention, the most beautiful person he's sure he knows.

When he bumps into you later at the party, he asks you what you're doing the following evening.

That was the story he'd tell people with a proud grin when they ask how you two got together. All you recount is how he nearly ruined your cute top with a shitty guinness.

He's struck with the memory when he sees the guinness logo in the ads on the walls of a restaurant. "Mate," Max all but snaps his fingers. Lando locks back in, humming for what he missed.

"Was just curious if you wanted to go out tonight. They've been texting in the chat about it, I saw you never responded."

Clubbing wasn't as fun as it used to be, not when you weren't dancing your heart out beside him, or waiting in bed with your nose in a book when he came home because you weren't feeling like going out. It felt like a waste of his time, and like he was sucking the fun out of other people's nights.

"'M alright," he says with a tight mouthed grin. "Gonna sit this one out."

Max looks at his friend, seeing through his response. "When's the last time you went out?"

If he had to take an educated guess, you last graced his apartment that night on the balcony, 4 weeks ago. So, 4 weeks ago. Perhaps longer, judging by the schisms. "A while. Not up to it."

"You're torturing yourself."

"I'm not interested in getting shitfaced, Max."

Max looks away for a second, quickly weighing the pros and cons of asking what he's been wanting to for the last, well, 4 weeks. "Do you think Y/n is wallowing too?"

The sound of your name makes his fingers twitch inadvertently, almost like a flinch. "That's not fair."

"I'm serious, Lando. You said she needed a break because she felt like you two were co-dependent and not actually working through problems, and look at you. You're not functioning without her. I mean, it's your fucking birthday next week, and you haven't brought it up once, you realize that, right?"

He knows he's right. Nothing he said was out of line, or wrong, and that's why Lando has nothing to say back. He wants to argue, to prove him wrong, but he can't. He's seen your ads and campaigns, the beautiful shots of you promoting luxury brands and names that your fans only dreamed of owning. Despite the distance, he was so proud of you still. You worked hard, were disciplined and humble through your success. He had texted you when the Dior campaign had launched, and the message of your thanks, with a smiley face, made him, for just a second, think that things were back to normal.

When they left the restaurant, and ran directly into fans, Lando tried to put on his best face for them, smiling for selfies and signing what was gestured toward him. When a sweet looking girl with glasses shyly spoke up, telling her favorite driver where she was visiting from, his tired eyes light up. "You're from there?" He confirms, and she smiles with an eager nod.

"Y/n is too," he almost mumbles, but every fan in earshot heard it. The typical squeals followed, the hushed whispers amonst themselves on if they'd push the questions they were itching to ask or not. And heard it they did, as the encounter made its way onto social media and gossip pages. But Max was right, his mourning period needed to be over, if anything was going to change for the better.

You call him on his birthday. It was nerve wracking, which made you bitterly laugh, because never did you think you'd be nervous to talk to Lando Norris of all people. One of the few people in the world you wholeheartedly trusted.

It had only been about a month since you requested time apart, and he had honored that. The texts were sparse, the calls nonexistent. Although, that was sort of what had brought you to this point anyway. But you were working on yourself, and your career at the same time, and things were looking better. Change never happened overnight, but the journal your therapist recommended, and the disappearance from social media besides professional posts were great starts.

You bite at your cuticle as the phone rings. You take your cell away from your ear, chest panging at the contact name "Lan <3" at the top of the screen. Was he really going to screen your call? Is that what you deserved, possibly?

"Y/n," he finally answers, and you quickly bring your phone back to your ear.

"Hi," you say awkwardly. "Happy birthday, Lando."

"Thank you," he says stiffly. "I'm happy to hear from you."

"Yeah I um, haven't really been on my phone here," you bite harder on your finger. "I think it's nice here, you'd love Marbella."

"I'm sure I would," he says with what you can hear is a smile. "I miss you, you know?"

"I miss you too," you concede, "how have you been?"

"Not great, I won't lie. Much rather would hear about you."

"'s not my birthday," and he smiles a bit at that.

"Well, racing's fine. But Max is sick of my shit, says I've been wallowing."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"Yeah."

You don't really know what to say, you've rarely been the perpetrator of his negative feelings. No relationship was perfect, but you all hadn't really hit a communication wall until now. It was uncharted, scary territory. "Well, I wanted to wish you a happy birthday, that was all. Have a good day, really. 24 is a big one. Kobe year, that's what someone said to me. I hope this year is great for you."

"Y/n, wait," he halts your beginnings to hang up. "I'd like to come to see you soon, I've got some time before Abu Dhabi and maybe I could swing by Spain on the way."

"Lando," he absolutely hates that you're calling him by his whole name. Lan, that's what would you called him almost exclusively. Lando feels so formal from you.

He needs to hear it, you know he does. He needs to hear that you want to see him, that you need to see him just as much as he yearns to put eyes on you once more. But you were constantly afraid of accidental manipulation, holding him by some invisbile garotte. But this was his first birthday you hadn't celebrated together since you were 19, that meant something.

"Please focus on racing," you implore, and squeeze your eyes shut before adding, "but you if you'd like to come and it won't be an issue in your plans, you're more than welcome."

꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜

You saw the posts, it wasn't very hard. Fans utterly disappointed that you and Lando hadn't been seen together in ages, putting pieces together quickly after you didn't post for his birthday. It didn't make you feel worse, to be truthful, and to your surprise. You were sure there'd be a barrage of insults hurled your way, maybe a cheating rumor or two. But really, all there was to see were requiems for your relationship, nostalgia for what once was. What did cause you to delete instagram from your phone, was the response to the podcast.

You were single for the time being, that's what you and Lando had agreed on when he visited you. It wasn't an invitation to go out and find the next man to lay in your bed, but you both had agreed that it wasn't healthy to hold out in anticipation of your rekindling.

"You're the only girl I've, you know," he awkwardly trailed off, scratching the back of his neck. He sits up in bed, linens pooling around his hips. Hooking up with your now ex-boyfriend, might've not been your brightest idea, sure, but you were both human, at the end of the day.

"Fucked?" you tease, remaining comfortable against your plush pillow. "I know. First few times kinda showed that."

He looks back at you pointedly. "You cried the first time."

"It hurt!"

He rolls his eyes, shaking his head in fake annoyance. You grin. "I'm sure the girlies are gonna have a field day with you being single now,"

He rolls his eyes again, laying, or rathing slumping, back into the pillow next to you. His arm instinctively comes around the top of your head, you try not to lean into it. "I think I really will finally listen to you and focus on racing."

You turn on your side, admiring his profile as he stares up at the ceiling, probably tangled in his thoughts. His nose sloped perfectly, the little freckles dotting his skin like constellations. Your boy.

"I told my mum."

He snorts. "She hates me now, I'm sure."

"Mm, no, her first ask was what I did," your mom was Lando's biggest fan, through and through. Of course, you were her daughter, but she was convinced he was cosmically made perfectly for you.

He looks at you then, realizing your eyes have been on him the whole time. He copies your position, turning to you so your bodies lay parallel, nowhere to look but each other's eyes.

"Do you regret that I'm the only boyfriend you've ever had?"

You immediately shake your head in denial of the question. "No, not at all," you were lucky, if anything. "You?"

"Well, I've had other girlfriends,"

"Ouch?"

"You knew that," he chuckles, and yeah, you did. "But I don't regret that you're the only one I've been serious about. I still am."

"I know. I am too."

"An ex-boyfriend doesn't lay in bed with you, you know."

"And an ex-girlfriend doesn't still remind your team when your doctor's appointments are,"

"Fair enough, guess we're just weird."

You share a matching grin. "So weird."

So once Alex uploaded the Call Her Daddy episode you were a guest on, and it was official to the masses that you had been single for now almost 4 months, the articles came in. The timelines of you and Lando's relationship, the rumors of him leaving clubs with random girls. You'd be lying if you said you didn't zoom in on some of their faces, relaxing when you recongized most of them as friends or even family members. He wasn't yours to be worried about, you suppose, but you also knew that any girl he decided to share his time with would be a lucky one.

Your friends had tried to get you on dates, that wasn't a lie when you said that on the podcast. But you weren't ever excited to get to know someone new, small talk was painful and you didn't feel comfortable going home with them.

But then, a few weeks later into February, you get a phone call from Lando. "Hi," You answer, pleasently surprised.

"Hey there," he says, sounding slightly out of breath. "How are you?"

"I'm good, great even. Finished up everything down here, leaving Marbella next week to head back home." Home was London to you, not Monaco. You constantly visited, had a family flat there and everything, but couldn't leave officially becuause of your career.

"Congratulations, everything looked stunning," he compliments, and your stomach flutters.

"But um, how are you? I'd ask if you were relaxing, but I'm sure training's well underway."

"Meh, more or less. I'm heading to Surrey next week, actually. Got some stuff to do at HQ."

"Oh," Surrey was only about an hour and a half from where you were in London. "Would you, well, not assuming anything, but if you'd have time to spare, it would be great to catch up?"

This isn't why Lando called you, you fully know this. Who knows what he picked up the phone for, he could be calling to let you know he's eloped with someone he's met in the 6 months you've been apart.

"I'd love to," you hear his grin in his voice. "You haven't moved, have you?"

Not only had you not moved, but you haven't changed much about your flat either. Same bedding, same color schemes, same photos decorating your tables and walls of your friends, family, and Lando. He never took the photos of you down either, and that photo from your 21st birthday was still stuffed in his wallet.

You order takeout, sitting across the kitchen island from each other acting like it didn't feel like your first date again. He acts like he doesn't want to reach out for your hands as you animatedly use them to share stories of Spain, and you act like you don't want to push the curls back that threathen to land over his eyebrows.

The food gets cold as you two catch up, a few glasses of wine becoming a whole bottle gone. You actually can't remember the last time the two of you had done this, and perhaps, absence had truly made your hearts grow fonder.

"Bahrain is on leap day," Lando says, making you gasp.

"That's got to be good luck, no?"

"It's just the first practice,"

"But still, you're starting your first weekend of the year on a special day like that," you muse, "so exciting. I'm excited for you,"

His chest warms at endearment in your voice. You truly and honestly rooted for him through everything, that was one of the things he was most grateful for about you. He knows you don't truly care about all of this, if he won or lost, but that you care about him and his development, how he sees himself and his profession. He fell in love with that about you.

"Would you come?"

You hesitate, daring to look at him from where you had begun to clean the countertop. "To the race? "

He nods, and turn back to the counter. "I don't know, Lan. Is that where we are?"

He hopes so. He's missed you something horrible, prays you missed him just as bad.

Lando takes the cloth from your hand, replacing it with his own. "I know it's only been about 6 months, and that's not enough time to say everything's well and dandy," you fight a smile. "But I want to work through things, with you. I've had nothing but time to consider what was off with us, and I want to be better. For you, more than anything. Yeah, I learned how to be just Lando. But I know I prefer being Lando and Y/n."

You bite your lip, finally meeting his eyes. "I want to take it slow."

"We can do that,"

"So, I don't know if I'm ready for the race. But, my birthday's coming up,"

"It is,"

"And we'll be in Dubai. My sister did it up, got this crazy plan going since it'll be my 25th."

"Quite the old woman you're becoming,"

"Oh get off that," you scoff, pushing his chest. He chuckles and pulls you back into him, where you go willingly. "But, if you can, I'd love for you to come to the dinner."

He raises an eyebrow with a smirk. "You want me to fly to Dubai just for your birthday dinner?"

"You'll be in Saudi Arabia then anyway,"

The smirk gets bigger. "You know my schedule already, love?"

"You're so fucking cheeky, can't stand it," you feign annoyance, but never move from his arms.

He holds you, as your arms delicately find themselves behind his neck, not daring to kiss just yet. To really be honest, you're not sure if you're ready to take that whole plunge.

"I'm happy to be back, even if things are slow. They can be molasses for all I care."

"Thank you for being patient with me," you lean your forehead against his. However, this time, neither of you are crying. Nice, for a change.

"I'd wait decades for you, my love."

After a beat of sweet silence. You speak up once more. "One thing though," he hums to prompt your continuance. "I'm pretty sure, when it's said, it's Y/n and Lando, just so you know."

[clericofgale]

Spoilers for Patch 5 and the whole game.

I posted my thoughts about the new ending Gale got in patch 5 on Reddit first, but I might as well post it here with some revisions. I'll say it, I love the god Gale ending. But it is NOT his good ending to me. Before I would never have pursued it, but now it is tantalizing to say the least. I'm into it though Gale the mortal is still my preference.

"Gale Dekarios cuts a poor figure next to the wizarding prowess of 'Gale of Waterdeep. You like so many things about me I'd have sooner discarded…"

By ascending Gale, you are killing Gale Dekarios. The nerd that hits on you in front of everyone while you're covered in zombie blood, procced to infodump an entire tangent to complement you, and yet somehow stick the landing to hit you with the most romantic poetry you've ever heard. A sensitive man who wears his emotions on his sleeve and wants to make the world a more beautiful place. An artist of the weave and a poet. The owner of the most overbearing tressym in the world. The moment the spell was complete, Gale Dekarios died and Gale the divine was born.

Even then, why is god Gale now so enticing to me unlike ascended Astarion? Because he loves you. He wants you by his side as an equal. It's actually sweet and romantic, just like all of Gale's romance is. I'm nothing if not a sucker for a romance.

"Follow my Lead" "Show me more. Show me it all." "I want you to seize the crown and make us a new world"

BeMyGod is the name in the data file for the boat scene where Gale asks you if you'll be with him when he seizes the crown. I know file names can be arbitrary, but if you agree to his proposal, you really are asking Gale to be your god. It's so easy to say yes. You're in the stars, Gale says I want to show you so much more, but it's not worth it without you. All you need to do is say yes. You're angry at Mystra who demanded so much of Gale, caused him such suffering and won't lift a finger to help. So You say yes. You love him. He loves you.

When Gale ascends, even in 6 months he is a different entity. The devs indicate: "His posture/demeanor here should feel slightly more aloof/detached than the regular Gale - he's been immortal for six months, his ego is as powerful as his magic. The real Gale's insecurities still lurk beneath his godlike confidence, as does his love for the player, but this is clearly a Gale setting out on a darker path."

The Gale here is a twisted version of the one we loved. His flaws are worse, he good traits have mostly disappeared. Namely his kindness and tolerance to deprecating humor. He no longer tolerates any perceived slight or jab. He doesn't let go of his bitterness towards Mystra. His ego is large yet fragile. You saw a glimpse of it at the ritual circle scene if you succeed in upstaging him in magic. Now it's only gotten worse. Yes even his insecurity. If you rejected him after accepting the proposal, Gale says this.

Tav: No, I think it's the end. What happened to the man I once loved? Gale: He's the god he deserves to be. I achieved everything we hoped I would, and still I'm not good enough for you?

He's also lonelier than ever. His last 6 months were in isolation, with nobody he could trust while dealing with the crown and celestial politics. Immortals don't really have friends. They have allies and lovers. He stops talking to his mother who was so dear to him. He develops a spell to polymorph people into Tara, his oldest friend who rejects him after ascension. He then develops a spell that summons Shadowdark ale and forces people to dance and be happy, just like the vignette he told you about the Yawning Portal. The third spell is Power word: Ruin. he's finally back to speaking death into being with a single word, just like he used to.

Gale wanted to be a god to make a better world, but now he's a neutral god answering prayers from any alignment. He doesn't care if they are Thayan wizards aiming for lichdom or unscrupulous Amnian merchants. Ambition is a neutral idea. Ambition also drives healers to develop a cure. For adventurers to slay monsters.

What's the most noticeable remaining good trait in Gale? Gale still loves you. He's much nicer to you if romanced. He refuses to be with you if you don't go with him because he doesn't want to hurt you. He admires your good heart if you want to honor the pact with Raphael. He calls you my love just like before. He will fulfill the promise sealed that night in the astral sea. All you have to do is say yes. And the ascension cinematic is a callback to the romance scenes from before.

"Follow my lead. Close your eyes. I have so much more to show you."

And you know what. I'll go with you. Even if we will eventually lose both our humanity in our folly, and dreams become nightmares. Even if I'll come to regret that night when I said yes to the mortal you, I don't want you to be lonely. Where ever you go, I'll go. You'll always have me. And I'll always have you.

As God Gale would say… "A toast then, to our myriad ambitions. May we each get what we deserve."

[sluttysnowangel666]

Chapters 10, 11, & 12 of The Song of Blackwoods & Brackens

cw: smut, cursing, violence, vomiting

This story is written BY ME and I do not consent or give permission to it being posted or translated anywhere else. thank you for supporting your writers <3

find the other chapters here

Chapter 10: Shame, Shame, Shame

19 days before the battle of the burning mill

𐂃 𐂃 𐂃 𐂃

It had been days since I'd seen Benjicot.

The ache in my heart had not let up. I was so ashamed at how much of a fool I made of myself, and I felt as though I could no longer keep up the lie. But, each day I continued to go without seeing him was another day it felt as though my heart was going to shatter. I could not help the tears that began to stain my pillow every night.

After the incident at the brothel, I refused to return to the court yard along the border, instead training with Bracken men.

I also used the extra time to do duties a lord would do. Thankfully, Stone Henge did not have many. There were no council meetings to sit in on since my brother and uncle were gone, I did not need to clean as we had servants to do that, and I was not particularly keen on reading Bracken lineage. I had spent the last week lying around, thinking only of Benjicot and the night at the brothel.

Later in the day, I received word from my uncle who was only less than a week away from reaching King's Landing.

Dearest niece,

I will be arriving in King's Landing in less than half a fortnight. You are to still be preparing for your leave to Casterly Rock. Your brother will return immediately following our meeting with His Grace. When your brother arrives back to Stone Henge, go to Casterly Rock at once.

Uncle

Very short and sweet.

———

While I had been able to avoid Benjicot by hiding inside Bracken territory, I would no longer be able to during my border patrol.

The boy doing it prior had stepped into a divot along the stones and broke his ankle, when no other men volunteered to take his place, I had no choice but to step up.

I started my patrol in the early morning, usually around what time I trained with Benjicot. It was very early dawn, the sun not even peaking out the horizon. The sky was a deep, but not navy shade of blue. It was that time when it is most beautiful, most calm, most eerie. The birds quietly began to chirp, signaling the soon break of the sun. The bugs ceased their chirping, and the owls quieted their calls.

The air was so crisp and fresh. The humidity had not yet creeped its way in to make the lands stink of cattle. There was almost a chill in the air, and I embraced it. I could not help but wonder if I was stolen at birth by the Brackens. Perhaps, I was a true Northerner.

If only I were that fortunate.

"You!" A voice, filled with venom yells.

I whip my head, knowing immediately who it is. "Benji-"

"Training, and training, and training. Time I could be spending on my land, caring for MY people and instead I help you train. I help you train, even though you're a bloody lost cost. Then, you run away. Because you're too much of a whiny cunt to see the real world." He yells, panting by the end of it. "After all I've done... You could've just said you weren't coming back... You could've just said you weren't really my friend... I've waited here, day after day, night after night for you."

"Benji..."

"Don't call me that."

"I am your friend. I... I'm sorry I didn't come back. It wasn't your fault. I... I promise. I just got scared."

"Scared of what?" He asks. I hesitate. "Tell me... Aeron."

He's giving me my chance... But, I can't do it. I can't tell him.

"I'm just... not ready to be a lord. I'm not ready for all the responsibilities that come with it. It all felt too real. It all hit me when we were there... at the brothel."

"Must I train you on how to be a lord as well?" He asks, sarcastically, but I can tell he likely means it.

"Maybe." I chuckle, "I'm sorry..."

"It will be dark for one more hour." He says, "Let's pick up where we left off."

——————

Chapter 11: The Dornish Wine

cw: talks of smut but no actual, vomiting

12 days before the battle of the burning mill

𐂃 𐂃 𐂃 𐂃

"You're really improving, Bracken."

I nearly melt into a puddle at Benjicot's sweet words. They were few and far in between, so I always made a point to savor them when they seldomly occurred.

"I've been practicing that trick you taught me."

Since Benjicot and I's argument from last week we had managed to put it behind us, focusing only on our training.

At least during the day.

At night, Benjicot took us exploring.

After the incident at the brothel, I knew I was beginning to tread a fine line. Because of that, I had to make sure I was playing my part full heartedly to not around any more suspicions from Ben.

I kissed maidens, I fondled them, I wove my fingers through their hair, and wove my tongues past their lips. Perhaps one day, the lips I kissed would stop being brothel maiden's and become Benjicot's instead.

I was growing obsessed with him. Each day we spent training, each night we spent drinking, we grew closer and closer; physically and emotionally.

He knocked me down, he pulled me up, he bought our drinks, filled our cups. I found myself getting lost in his eyes, entangled in the words that spilled from his honey coated lips.

"Bracken." His voice breaks my trance.

"Huh?"

"I said ready your sword."

"Oh, sorry." I say. He smiles softly.

"Where'd you go?" He asks.

I pause, "Uh... nowhere. Sorry. Thinking about tonight, I guess."

"Oh, about that. Let's skip the brothel tonight. A shipment of Dornish wine just came in. It's a little sweet for my taste but does the job better than the watered down brothel ale." He says, a small blush coming across his cheeks.

I giggle softly, "Okay. By the weirwood again?"

"No. Meet me by the boundary stones tonight." He says, he turns around facing away from me, and in a swift motion he turns right back around wielding his sword.

I block it and force him backwards, laughing and swinging to land the blow. We fight with our swords, laughing and kicking our feet at each other.

"You're a fool." I say to him, and he laughs.

Our walks to and from our training spot used to be quiet and tense. Now, during the entire hour we spent walking we found new things to talk about.

Today, however, he began asking about me.

The real me.

"I've never heard much of your sister. For a long time I didn't know you had one." He said, as we trekked through the weeds and sticks back to our lands.

"Oh, yeah. We're twins actually."

"No shit." He says, but as more of a statement rather than a question. "What's she like?"

"Oh, you know how high born ladies are," I begin my lie, "They sew and they swoon and they... you know, whatever else it is they do."

"Hm." He doesn't believe me. "And your sister is one those high born ladies?"

"Yes." I say, attempting to end the conversation. But, he continues.

"What's her name?"

"Why do you care?" I ask, sharply. He shrugs, smirking smugly.

I sigh, "Y/N."

It almost feels good saying it out loud.

"Is she a hostage?"

"No. What? Why the bloody hell would you ask that?"

"I've never seen her. I don't fully believe she exists."

"Maybe she doesn't."

"Hm." He hums, "The forgotten Bracken daughter. Useful only when it's time to be sold off to the highest paying lord."

I say nothing. Neither does he.

We arrive back at the boundary stones, the last 10 minutes of the walk had been quiet after that conversation ended.

"Be back here tonight. About one hour after dusk."

Then, he turns and leaves.

———

I sit in the dark upon the boundary stones, kicking my feet back and forth against them. His words echoed in my mind. I was upset, angry. They were painfully true.

My brother would be returning soon, likely within the fortnight. And after that, I would never see Benjicot again.

"Bracken." I turn and see Benjicot, holding up a large flagon of wine. "Ready to see what the Dornish are made of?"

I laugh, my mind immediately forgetting my worries.

"Follow me." He says, and turns back to his land and starts walking.

"We're drinking on your land?" I ask.

"Scared?" He turns and asks with a smirk. He turns back around and keeps walking, not waiting to see if I'm following. I slowly trudge behind him, slightly afraid of someone noticing me. Bracken or Blackwood.

We didn't go very far thankfully. He lead me to a row of tents, likely meant for their army.

They weren't being used, so he brought me into the nicest one. It was large, filled with tables and weapons, as well as a few cots.

I laid back on one of the cots, and Benjicot took a seat upright on the one next to me, immediately drinking the flagon.

His face twisted at the sweetness before he handed it over to me. I drank and contorted mine as well, not yet used to the strong, sweet flavor. I coughed a little and cleared my throat. "Gods. They bloody know well how to make a fruity wine."

"On that much, we agree." He says, taking it back and taking another swig. "Let's play a game."

"A game?"

"A game." He affirms, "A Lannister taught me it."

I groaned, "Forget it, then. I hate Lannister's."

He smirks, "Any reason in particular?"

I sigh and take the wine, "No."

"Let's play then."

"Fine. What are the rules?"

"If I guess a fact correct about you, you drink. If I'm wrong, I drink."

"This sounds stupid."

"Indulge me." He says. I sigh, accepting defeat. He begins, "You're a virgin."

"That's not fair, you knew that already." I say as I take a drink.

"You... despise your family."

I sigh again, taking another drink.

"You love your twin... Much more than you let on."

I drink again, "Okay, it's your turn now, Blackwood."

He takes the bottle and stares at me intently.

"You... aren't a virgin." He drinks, and my heart sinks a bit. "Who was she?"

"That's not how the game works."

I repeat his words, "Indulge me."

"She was a high born girl who was passing through. My family hosted hers. We were young. We snuck into the woods. I took her maiden head."

"Is that why they call you Bloody Ben?" I ask, venom on my tongue.

He raises his eyebrows slightly, "No, it's not, and what do you care so much about it anyway? Are you jealous because you've never been with a lady?"

"No, now drink, because you were wrong about me being jealous."

"I won't drink because I know you're lying. Give me the next question."

"You don't like being called Bloody Ben."

"Wrong. I love it. Now drink." He says, pushing the bottle back towards me. My stomach begins to bubble, the sweetness starting to taste rancid each time it goes down.

"Your turn, again. You're rather shit at this game." He teases. "You don't like women."

I swallow, "Wrong."

"Don't lie." He says, firmly.

I drink. He smirks

"You believe in the true Queen." He says. I drink, the feeling growing worse and worse in my stomach. I feel all my day's indulgences beginning to rise in my throat.

"You're no true Bracken." He smirks.

For some reason, those words push me over the edge.

I vomit all over his legs. "Oh, seven hells, Bracken!" He curses.

"Fuck, I'm sorry." I manage to cough out. I turn and leave the tent as fast as I can.

For some reason I sprint, which doesn't help, and I don't get far.

I fall to my knees, vomiting more and more. I can't help but begin to cry. The embarrassment, the stress, the realization is too much to handle.

"Fucking seven!" I curse, sobbing on my hands and knees, drool spilling from my lips. The dark violet vomit from the fruity wine is all over me, and I reek of tangy and acidic fruit.

I feel a hand rest on my back. I know he probably just witnessed this whole thing, which doesn't help the embarrassment.

"Gods, Bracken, is there anything you can handle?" He asks, as I vomit more. More and more continues to come until I dry heave, the whole time Benjicot rubs his hand up and down my back.

"You're alright, you're alright." He drags me up, although I'm dead weight in his arms. I cry and cry and cry. And when he can't get me to stand on my feet, he drags me all the way back to the boundary stones.

We reach the boundary stones and he finally falls, sitting on the ground. 

He pulls me between his legs, placing his arms around me. He rests his chin on my shoulder, "Calm down, it's okay, Bracken."

"I don't wanna leave!" I drunkenly sob, "You're my best friend. Don't let them take me, Benji." I grip his arms, holding them close to me so they'll never leave me again.

"Sh, sh. I'm here." He hushes, and then sighs as if he chooses his next words carefully. "I think you're gonna be the death of me, little Bracken."

——————

Chapter 12: The Secret

cw: slight smut, more to come tho 🤫

(the moment we've all been waiting for, the slow burn is OVER)

𐂃 𐂃 𐂃 𐂃

-11 days ago-

I opened my eyes. Darkness enveloped my vision, but I could faintly see torches in the distance.

I groaned. My head was pounding, I was incredibly dizzy, and I'm sure if I had anything in my stomach I would have been vomiting it up.

A pained gasp left my lips as I sat up, which awoke Benji, who I hadn't even noticed was sitting directly behind me, his arms around me.

"Take it slow." He says, softly, his voice raspy from sleep.

"Gods," I managed to get out, my voice was hoarse from all the crying and vomiting. "What... Where are we?"

"Still at the stones. I dragged you here."

I turn and face him. We were dangerously close. "I am so, so sorry-"

"Don't apologize." He stands, a cold chill runs up my back where his warmth just was.

"About what I said-"

"I think we should get you home before you say anything else too complex for me to understand." He says. I nod.

He pulls me up slowly, the earth spinning beneath my feet. "You got it?"

I nod, but he keeps his arm hooked under my armpit anyway. It's good he did too, because I was lying. If he had let me go, I might not have gotten back up.

He basically carried me in near darkness all the way back to my castle, despite the risk of us getting caught.

We got to the door and I rested my weight onto the wall.

"Will you be okay from here?" He asks.

"Yes." I sigh, "Thank you, Ben."

He smiles, "I'll see you tomorrow. Be sure you rest well today."

I nod as I watch him turn and walk back to his lands, the sun slowly beginning to rise beyond him.

I don't know why but seeing him walk on my land, the sun gleaming beyond him yet brightening his dark curls... I felt hope.

———

Present

1 day before the battle of the burning mill

Benjicot, the sweetest boy, had managed to forget about my foolish actions again. He'd never brought up the night with the wine, never teased or made fun of me, and never mentioned how he held me in his arms as we fell asleep.

We continued our training in the day, but I was no longer invited out after dark. I can't say I blamed him for no longer wanting me in his company when it came to drinking.

In combat, I was improving greatly. So much to the point he wanted to pause on swordsmanship and train me with a bow and arrow.

"How do you know how to use one of these?" I ask as he pulls out a large wooden bow from the tent, the same one we drank in. Someone had cleaned up my mess, maybe even him.

"My aunt is one of the best in the seven kingdoms at using this." He said. "While I work better with a sword, I've been trained on this as well."

He hands me the bow. I run my fingers along the smooth wood, stopping to trace the Blackwood sigil carved in the middle. "It's beautiful."

He says nothing. He had been quiet the past week. I believed the reasoning to be he had heard the news of my house declaring for Aegon. I tried to avoid talks of politics with him, but he always brought them up, questioning my opinion specifically.

It hurt not hearing his voice as often as usual. Our walks had become quiet again. I was running out of time with him, as my brother would return in days.

He grabbed the quiver holding the arrows and walked past me, not even looking in my direction.

I followed him anyway, head lowered like a scorned little dog. His silence made me feel small. I knew he was displeased with me.

He walked towards the targets, removing old arrows from previous shooters.

His land was empty, save for us. Most men had gone inside for supper or to drink. The sun would be setting within a few short hours. No one had any reason to stay outside.

He takes, rather snatches, the bow from me. He pulls an arrow from his back, raises his arm, and hits the target right in the middle.

"Wow." I whisper quietly. He hands it back to me.

"Raise it." I pull it up and he guides me, "A little higher."

His hand rests under my elbow as he softly continues to guide my arm. "There. Now take your other hand..."

He grabs my hand and rests it on the string, adjusting my fingers to the necessary positions. "Arrow between these two fingers, when you're ready to shoot move the first one so the arrow glides without catching your finger."

He positions himself directly behind me. He's so close that his chest is against my back.

"I'll guide you for the first one." He says. He pulls the arrow and places it on the bow, his fingers rest on top of mine on the string.

He lowers himself so our faces are at the same level. His lips are right behind my ear. I can feel his breath against my hair.

"Pull back." He says softly. I'm losing my breath. I do as he says but my hands are shaking. He surely notices.

"Stop shaking." He grips my fingers slightly.

"Hold..." He says softly. I'm panting by this point. Gooseflesh covers my arms.

"Before you shoot, take it slow. Breathe in as you pull back, breathe out as you let go. Focus." He says, slowly and gently.

I do as he says, and he mimics my breathing. His hand gently leaves mine, and rests under my elbow that's cocked back.

"Think of it as an extension of you." He says, "You and the bow... are one."

I release, and the arrow flies.

Right into the center.

He steps back, and for the first time all week I see him smile at me.

"You're a natural."

I blush as he continues, "I should have known from the beginning when you should've been using your left hand."

He pauses, "You were never meant to wield a sword, but a bow."

"Ben, I-"

"We can work on that more tomorrow." He turns and walks back towards the tent, not giving me the chance to finish.

"Ben!" I run after him, struggling to keep up with his long strides, even though he's only walking.

He walks into the tent and I follow after him. I go to speak, but I can't. Nothing comes out.

My heart is racing. I feel so terribly, terribly nervous. I don't know why. Why do I feel so much dread?

He sets the bow on the long table and turns back to face me, resting his lower back against the table, awaiting whatever it is I have to say.

"I just wanted to thank you... for everything you've taught me." I say. He nods. "Um... I believe you've helped shape me into who I truly am."

He scoffs at that, I raise my eyebrow slightly, but continue anyway. "Today will be the last time we see each other... Lord Blackwood."

"Running back to Uncle Bracken when he returns? Gonna have him tuck you in and kiss your cock?" He says, rudely.

"I... what? What's your problem?"

"You're my problem, Bracken. You always have been."

"Then why'd you train me, for seven sake?"

"I don't know. I guess I'm just a bloody fucking fool."

"Do you want me to apologize then? I don't know what you want from me."

"I want you to fuck off and don't come back on my land."

I scoff, trying to hide the tears that well in my eyes. "You're unbelievable."

I turn and walk away, he pushes himself off the table and follows.

"Me?! Unbelievable?!" He yells. I go to lift the tent flap when he grabs my wrist, ripping me behind him.

I stumble back into the table where he just was. He steps closer and closer to me, until his chest is against mine, "You've got nerve. You might genuinely have balls, in fact, to call me unbelievable."

If I wasn't so concerned about how close he was to me, I might've noticed his choice of words. But my mind was running farther than I could catch it. I could only focus on the proximity, or lack thereof, between us.

"Unbelievable... You wanna know what I find unbelievable, Bracken?" He asks, softly, moving his lips beside my cheek so he can whisper into my ear. His hands place themselves beside me onto the table as he leans over me. "What I find unbelievable..."

He doesn't finish his sentence. He pulls away and looks at me.

He's silent. I'm silent. Everything is silent. There's no bugs, no owls, no animals. The only sound is our fast, breathless panting. Why's he panting? Why am I panting?

"Fucking forget it."

He slams his lips on mine, finally. Oh gods, finally. His hands move to my face, resting them on both of my cheeks. He pulls me into him, as if he is trying to merge us into one.

"Wait, Ben-" He keeps kissing me. "Hold on, Ben, there's something-" More kisses.

His hands weave through my hair, pushing my head towards him so I can only pull away for quick breaths.

I bite his lip, hard enough to draw blood. "Ow, fuck!"

I push him away, "I'm not who you think I am."

He's angry. He looks at the blood on his fingers from touching his lip. "You fucking..." He doesn't finish his sentence, even though usually insults come easy to him. He's holding back.

He shakes his head, licking the blood, and then he's kissing me again. "Ben, please, there's something you must know-"

"I know." He whispers quickly, going back to our heated kiss.

"No-" Kisses. "No, you don't-"

"I know." More kisses.

"Ben!" I yell, angrily. I push him off, "I'm not a man!"

I walk past him so he can't kiss me again. As bad as I want to, I can't do it. Not before I tell him. "I'm not Aeron Bracken-"

I barely get it out in time before I'm pressed against the wall, his chest pressed to my back. My cheek touches the soft cloth of the tent, and Ben snakes his fingers up my stomach to my jaw, gripping my cheeks into his fingers.

It feels like everything finally slows down, including him. "I know, Y/N." His voice is low, and raspy. I gasp at my name.

"What?! Ben?" I turn and face him. He cups my cheeks with his hands.

"I've always known." He says, "I knew from the moment I saw you crying on the ground at that courtyard."

"How?" I asked, shocked.

"How? Y/N, you weren't exactly subtle." He says, "But, it was entertaining. I wanted to see how long you would drag it out... But, I couldn't fucking wait for you anymore."

I slap him angrily, and he smirks at me. But gods, that smile. He was so hard to hate. "If you knew... Why didn't you fucking kiss me sooner?"

"So, I should have kissed you the moment I knew I wanted you? Despite the fact you've been lying to me for weeks?" He says, frustrated. "I wanted you to trust me enough to tell me on your own."

I don't say anything right away, because I know he's right. "I trust you with my life... I'm sorry I lied. You didn't deserve that."

"I don't care, Y/N." He kisses me again with desperation.

"This is so wrong." I say, reciprocating his kiss.

"I don't care." He repeats. He mumbles it into my neck over and over with soft kisses. I lean my head back to give him more access. Shivers run down my spine.

"Let me have you." He whispers in my neck, "I need you, little Bracken."

His hands grip my waist, ready to rip off my clothes the second I say the words.

"Take me, my lord."

[thebucketpail]

When You Accidentally Kill a Clown pt. 3

Pt.1. Pt.4 Ao3

Woah part 3?? Crazy, enjoy!

Jason could hardly hold back his grin as Barbara hit play for probably the hundredth time. It was child's play for her to get ahold of a video of the Joker's death, and damn was it worth it. The footage was anything but high quality, which was a given considering it was in a random alley. But the Joker was unmistakable as he pulled a scruffy ravenett off the street at gunpoint. Luckily however, the camera was poised at the perfect position to catch the whole affair, in however grainy the imagery.

Only moments after Danny was pulled into the alley, a short struggle ensued, followed up by a bright flash of green light that threw Joker further into the alley. The video ended on a frame of a panicked Danny crouching by the body, checking his pulse.

“I need you to send this to me,” Jason said, his smile creeping every further.

“Already did,” Babs responded with a snort. “I also sent it to Harley, and I was going to send it to B, but I thought I'd let you break the news” Her own cheshire grin split as Jason nodded.

“Anything new on Danny?” he asked, nodding toward the screen.

Barabara’s expression turned to something more teasing, “I’m not here to get you a boyfriend Jason. But I did get you some surface level stuff,” she said, cutting off his slight protest, as she switched screens, pulling up some documents. “Danny Fenton, He’s an Aerospace student at Gotham U, starting this semester. He just moved here from Illinois. He lives in dorm 206B in the Truman building on campus, and he currently has no occupation. There’s not much on his hometown, there’s some kind of blackout I need to get past, but his parents are scientists of some kind, and his sister and father are both documented metas. Overall I don’t think he’s much of a threat, just a kid who got caught in the wrong place.” Jason Hummed in response, reaching for his helmet.

“Thanks so much Babs, you’re a godsend”

Barbara smirked, turning back to her computer, “I know”

Jason slipped out the window.

---------

Jason didn’t often watch the sunrise. Usually he was too tired, or too busy. But today he was so awake he could practically feel the energy buzzing in his bones as he watched the sun rise over the docks of gotham.

He hadn’t been able to shake the feeling since he found Danny hunched over the dead clown. But something in his chest was pulling at the thought of them. An ache of something familiar yet so distantly unknown filled his thoughts. There was something about that person that had lodged itself in Jason’s brain and refused to leave.

Unfortunately, Jason was pulled from these thoughts by the loud crackle of his comm.

“Hood, report to the cave for debrief,” Jason groaned, just because he wasn’t ready to sleep doesn’t mean he wanted to haul himself across all of Gotham to the Cave. He stood slowly, taking his sweet time to reply and savoring the satisfying pops as he stretched.

“Hood, report”

“Yeah, yeah, don't go getting your cape in a twist. I’m coming. Though I don’t see why it's necessary to pull me across the whole city when an email could do.” he grumbled that last part to himself more than anything.

Jason took his time driving through the city, stopping muggings, taking care of stragglers on their way home from late shifts. And if it took him an hour longer than usual to get to the cave, well then that wasn’t his fault. When he finally got there, though, there was no doubt; this definitely could have been an email.

When he arrived B, Stephanie, Tim and Damian were going over various minor things from their patrols, that didn’t really affect him much to be honest, just the routine; drug rings, arms deal busts, and oddly enough; ghost sightings.

“Finally,” he heard Tim mutter, as Jason killed the engine in his bike. “B! He’s here! Can we start now?”

“Start what?”

“B, wants to touch base regarding the Arkham breakout,” Stephanie said, sending him a withering glare, probably for making them wait so long. “I think he’s just being paranoid because Joker’s been unusually quiet.” Jason had to stifle a snort. If he played his cards right, this would be the perfect time to tell about the new lack-of-threat to Gotham.

“Paranoia and caution are not the same thing,” The bat himself growled from his place at the computer. “It’s been a week since he broke out of Arkham, we should have heard from him by now. It’s uncharacteristic of him to not have a scheme cooked up and in motion by now.”

“Father is correct, we should be looking further into finding the Joker,” Damian said, “If any of you have information regarding this case, I suggest you share,’’ he sneered, and if he wasn’t practically three feet tall, it would have been fairly intimidating.

“We're doing the best we can, Damian, if Joker’s up to something we’ll know about it” Tim said.

Up to this point Jason had been watching the conversation, trying to hold back his laughter, but a few chuckles managed to escape and he folded into it. Everyone in the group froze and turned to Jason as he pulled his helmet off, still wracked with giggles.

When he had finally managed to calm himself down, wiping a few stray tears from his eyes, Damian piped up, sounding wary at Jason's sudden outburst.

“What is so funny Todd?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Jason said, fighting back another round of laughter before schooling himself into a more serious disposition. “Joker’s not up to anything, don’t worry.” He said. We watched as his family’s faces went from wary, to confused.

“And how do you know that?” Damian questioned further, bristling.

And this was it. Jason delighted in the way everyone’s faces fell when he said with icy diction,

“Because that motherfucker is dead.”

And everyone exploded.

-----------

By the time he managed to escape the cave (and the incessant questioning) all his earlier energy had been sapped out of him and Jason was ready for a very long nap. He was heading back to his apartment in Park Row when something caught his eye. Or perhaps someone.

“Twice in eight hours? I know you’re not from here but that’s still gotta be some kind of record,” Jason quipped as he tied up the assailant he’d just knocked out.

Danny Fenton stared down at him from his place pressed against the alley wall. His face set in an indignant frown. His ice blue eyes glinting slightly in the ever growing morning light that had finally made itself through Gotham’s thick smog.

“Well it’s not like I’m trying to get attacked,” He ground out, “I just wanted some fucking coffee.”

“At four in the morning?” Hood responded, raising an eyebrow under his helmet.

Danny’s mouth opened and closed a few times before he turned to collect his discarded belongings. When he spoke his voice was softer, “I wasn’t planning on sleeping anytime soon.”

Oh. Jason had forgotten that, even if it was an accident, even if it was the Joker of all people. Killing was a hard thing to deal with, and this must be weighing on Danny. Jason mentally kicked himself for not accessing them for shock. In retrospect all the signs were there, hidden just slightly behind the shaky facade. It was in the way Danny hadn’t touched their food at first. How they were despondent and their eyes kept drifting between empty and piercing, it was how they sat stiff as a board until Jason had mentioned their major. Until Jason had distracted them.

After a long pause that seemed as though it would last forever, Danny sighed.

“I should probably be going now,” He said, pushing past Jason to the entrance of the alley. “Don’t worry, I’ll be more careful this time,” He threw a half hearted grin over his shoulder, disappearing around the corner. Jason couldn’t even get a word in before he was gone.

++++++

Ack! Sorry if Jason is a bit out of character here, I haven’t actually gotten around to reading most (Read: Any) of his canon content yet, and I’m running mostly off Fanon and various character analysis I've read over the last few months.

What are your thoughts? This is only my second ever attempt at writing something to post. I promise I read every comment and they make me so happy to see people interact with my word vomit. Next bit will be from Danny POV. Let’s see what's going on in their head.

Fair warning; I don’t plan on doing tag lists for the future, so this’ll be the only one. If you want to see more I recommend following me (I promise I do other cool things too)

@always-be-a-stranger @dragonfirefeather @thatonegaybitch68 @uraniumwizard @ace-aro-as-shit @rosiea184 @amyheart19 @sadpersonmadeoffruitpunch @dat1angel @tkiesai @idkmrpianoman @crystalqueertea @bianca-hooks123 @blep-23 @stargirl1331 @sjrose1216 @thegatorsgoose @akikkobara @help-i-need-a-cool-username

[ninoucheuuuh]

I will be okay - Octavia's Song

Well, i'm-not-talking-to-my-parent-kids, IF THIS ISN'T OUR NATIONAL ANTHEM

I feel like her song deserves more posts and more longer ones because it was amazing and so hurtful at the same time, and because i was so exited to hear it and well, I'M NOT DISAPPOINTED OBVIOUSLY 💜✨️

(put this here if you want to listen to it again 💜🫶🏻✨️)

I'm going to start with the instrumental :

When the guitar started, I SCREAMED SO HARD, LIKE IT'S THE MOMENT I'VE BEEN WAINTING FOR, WE'RE HERE ✨️✨️✨️

I reaaaaally love the melody. It's composed by very simple chords but it hits SO FUCKING HARD.

It starts with a very soft guitar, it's the start of her confession, of the spread of her feelings. Like she started to let it out a little.

And then, BAM, THAT FUCKING BREATH. ACAPELLA, NO MUSIC. THE BREATH THAT SAYS EVERYTHING. NO WORDS NEEDED TO UNDERSTAND. All her pain, like she's suffocated by the words she kept so long. Am I the only one with tears in the eyes and a pain in the heart everytime I hear this sigh ?

And then the drums start (the transition like oh myyyyy) and the piano just like little sparkles ✨️ And you fell she starts to feel freer in the song. Especially with that beautiful "OOOOooooOOOOooooh" that leads us to a more angrier Octavia (let it out baby 😔❤️)

And after that beautiful lament, we have also an angrier instrumental with the drums, the piano (no more single notes but chords) and that electric guitar ✨️ And with her grungy voice everything feets soooo well ❤️✨️

The music when she says "You were wrong" (at 1:09) INJECT IT IN MY VEINS PLZ 🙏🏻 Same for the guitar at 1:20 when there's the explosion.

AND THEN AGAIN IN THE CHLORUS AT 1:28 THE GUITAR 😭❤️🙏🏻✨️ It gives me tears 🥹❤️ Like a lament and like it goes lower

Also when she says "And when you'll gone I will be okay" it gives me soooo much Creep by Radiohead vibe, especially the "okaaaaaaaay" which sounds so similar to the "weirdoooooooo" and I love it because I think that this vocal is so beautiful ❤️✨️

And then again the guitar (so beautiful 🥹❤️🙏🏻) before the heart's scream

And when she sings there's those little high-pitched notes on the piano and the drums (amazing ✨️)

And it's calm again, the guitar only, like in the begging. It's the end of this escape, we come back in that little closet with Via and her guitar. Those notes, so soft, to highlight her beautiful voice, so sweet, like a caress for the ears, so real, so painful 🥺💔✨️

Also, obviously, the song in general gives a "You will be okay" vibe

(Well, I know it's not a very accurate analysis, it could be more specified but well. It's more a "what I feel while listening to it" and English is not my native language so it's more difficult for me to express exactly what I have in mind. But it's something that I really like to do with one of my friend with songs that we love sooooo)

Now, the lyrics and that beautiful voice that got my heart 🥹❤️✨️ :

Your boxes packed up on the bed Your words are in my head Tellin' me it will be okay You'll remember what you said Or was it just another lie ? [Sigh]

Obviously, the "you will be okay" ref yet. The confort words of her dad are still stuck in her head. And her voice, sooooo beautiful 🫶🏻✨️ When she's reaching higher notes, her voice is so soft. The way she's saying "youuuuu saaaaid" is so pure, same for "just another lie", it also highlights these words. I'd like to focus especially on that line.

The fact that she's says "another lie" is interesting, because that's implying that there are far many more than 1 or 2. Well, of course, the most obvious is the "Will you go with him and leave me behind ?" one. I don't think that she really places Stolas's lullaby as a lie - what i mean is that it's not a huge one -, because later in the song, she says it herself, "I will be okay". Even though it's difficult, she's strong enough to face it.

In my opinion, I think that she may have realised that something was wrong, long beforce the divorce and all. Because, first, she had kind of clues in Loo Loo Land. I'm thinking about this moment :

"She's always been... I haven't been... We weren't in..." Even if Stolas fails explaining to Via what's wrong with Stella, there are still words that call the attention. Especially the "always". It's not recent. Also, I think that Stella and Andrealphus' recent reactions may lead her to that point. Yes, Octavia can't even imagine what Stolas has endured with her mother for sure. Stolas never told her about their problems before. But she's not stupid, and I think she may suspect deeper problems. The "another lie" is a big package for all failed promises and non-told things.

And I must mention again that deep sigh again because it's so hurtful and doesn't fail represent her feelings 🥺💔

This place that used to be your home Would you call me on the phone ?Will I hear your voice in the middle of the night when I turn off the lights ? Or are you just another ghost ?  Oh-oh, oh-oh-oh

"When I turn off the lights" her voice is so pure and sweet when she sings high notes ✋️😔✨️ Again a cute reference to Loo Loo Land in that line, when she's calling Stolas in the middle of the night and he comes to confort her with the lullaby ❤️✨️

Using the word "ghost" was really to ripp our hearts, wasn't it ? 😭💔

And that BEAUTIFUL "OOOOoooOOOOooooh" SO MAJESTIC ❤️✨️ Like a scream. The grown sigh of the first verse, because she's starting to let it all out, it's taking more and more place. Barrett Wilbert Reed, my english is too bad to explain the amazing artist you are 🫵😔❤️✨️

How could you lie to my face ? And did our time mean nothing to you ? Were you bluffing all along ? That you would be there to see Yourself forgiven by me If you thought that I'd take it, you were wrong Oh, you were wrong

My my my, the way she sings that "all alooOOoong" is just amazing. And she has that kind of grungy voice just- sorry i'm just dying right now her voice is incredible 😭❤️✨️ Also the two "you were wroooOOOooong" are just killing me. You feel that she's angry. Because she feels abandoned, betrayed and because she feels like Stolas doesn't trust her enough to tell her clearly the things. And you feel that she's so in pain, so angry and so sad at the same time. The second "wrong" feels like a tear, you can almost hear a paper ripped in pieces 😭💔

Again we find all those stuff about the lies etc like before. Also, she wants to show that even tough she's hurt, she's strong enough to face it. But i will come to it in the chorus.

And when you're gone, I will be okay I will be okay, though I'll never be the same And I'll know that I was right to doubt you I'll grow without you, and you'll only know my name

The way she sings the two first line, so confident, is amazing. 💜✨️ And HERE, in her voice, even in the way she moves (her clenched fist), she shows that she IS strong. She's not anymore the little girl she was. She's confident. She assumes her pain, that Stolas' decision and hers will change her forever, but she will get up.

And that's clearly a thing that Stolas don't understand, and we see it by the way he talked about the divorce with her : he said nothing. Why ? He wanted to shelter her. Yes, as a parent, your role is to shelter you child. But comes a time where your child is old and mature enough to understand and bear tough subjects. And Via is totally ready to hear Stolas' story with Stella.

And when you're a child and your parents keep saying that you can't handle it, it's fucking horrible and make you so mad. And I know it by experience, as a divorced-parents-child. Aaah, the "It doesn't concern you, it's between your mother/father and I." Well, fuck you, because i'm the first victim of that fucking shitty relationship, I have the right to know what is happening. And Via must feel the same.

The way she sings the two last lines is so heartbreaking. 😭💔 You can feel that it comes from the deepth of her lungs. She's letting it out, all her pain, all her anger. Let it out my precious girl, let it out 🫶🏻😔❤️✨️ And her voice is so beautiful god, kinda grungy. It brings tears in my eyes everytime 🥺😭💔✨️

And, one of my three favourite lines, the most powerful one in my opinion : "I'll grow without you and you'll only know my name".

First, because it's just awful : they'll spend one hundred years without seeing each other. They have such a bond since the first day of her life. And all of this would be ruined. And it's just- so sad and hard that i can't hold my tears ✋️🥺

Second, because as a i'm-not-talking-to-my-father-child, it feels so relatable. I feel it so deep and so real. And i know that my fellows feel it also 🫵✨️

In short, I took the decision to not seeing/talking anymore to my dad for 4/5 years now. I just kept contact with my half-sister and my half-brother. He was a bitch to my mother all the time they spent together (it's really in short okay 😭) and in the year when they divorced (i was still talking to him), I barely saw him because he was going to see her girlfriend in another country (but like, ALL the weekends, of course he didn't sleep home, and when i called him he was not answering). We were close, but not that much, and i can say that during that year where i only saw him a little, I felt a distance. And then, when he threw my mother out, I choosed to not see him anymore. Recently, I've been to my sister's wedding (i was so fucking scared to go because i was terrified to see my grandmother again) and i saw him again. He didn't even come to say "hello" (i wasn't hurt don't worry, just suprised). And when I thought that yes, I'm a stranger to him now. Even if he loves me stil - which honestly i don't fucking know and i don't fucking care -, he doesn't know me anymore. He's missing the most important years of my life, where i changed a lot and i discovered completely myself, etc. Now, he doesn't know my tastes, my favourite colour, my friends, how i'm doing at school... He only knows my name.

And that's exactly what may happen between Stolas and Octavia. And the way she sings it makes it even more heartbreaking 💔

You always told me I'd be okay Well, I'll be okay, though I'm not okay today But my tears won't fall upon your shoulder I'll just get older and you'll only know my name

That verse. Her voice. So soft, so broken, so painful. Those sweet high notes with that soft guitar- my heart can't handle it 😭💔

The "though i'm not okay today" really shows her strength. She's not at her best now, and all those events have hurt her. But she will be okay. She will get back on het feet. She's brave enough and you feel the resilience and the confidence in her voice 💜🫶🏻✨️

My other favourite line : "But my tears won't fall upon your shoulder". With her voice, so soft, so sweet, so pure, reaching those lovely and painful high notes and the sound of her tears dropping. The line itself is just heartbreaking. You will no be here anymore to confort me, so I will find an other way to confort me on my own. You feel her pain 😭💔

And just to stab our hurt even more : "I'll just get older and you'll only know my name", always with that beautiful and heartbreaking voice 💔

I'm not going to talk about the animation because, well, that post is long enough and some people have already done that better than i would, but i put some screeshots here just for the pleasure :

Look how beautiful she is i love her so much 💜🫶🏻✨️

The animation is so sad with the "Or are you just another ghost ? OOOOoooOOOoooh" I sobbed while re-watching it 🥺😭

We don't talk enough about this part THE ANIMATION WAS INSANE LIKE MIND BLOWING ✨️✨️✨️ (it reminds me so much Just Look My Way, when Stolas holds the moon and the "camera" turns around him).

This song is amazing and so powerful. The voice, the interpretation, the instrumental, the references, the fact that it's a reponse to Stolas' Lullaby... I relate to it so much, and I'M PROUND to be represented by Via, my girl 💜🫶🏻✨️

"You will be okay", "I will be okay", you know what comes next : if they don't do a fucking duet when they'll make up, i swear i will put my city on fire. Bryce and Barrett have such amazing voice, and a duet will be just like a blessing - and the dead of us but don't worry, we will be okay 👌🏻✨️

[cynthiesjmxazrielslover]

Bittersweet love

An original AUmodernAzriel x Reader

these songs remind me of them <3333

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, mention of trauma Summary: Growing up with your abusive father and your mother who never spoke up against him, you had truly given up hope of any chance of a real relationship, of real love, the ones of the kind that you read about in your books, till you're proven wrong.

A/N: this is my first fic ever+english isnt my first language, and I wrote this in a daze, the idea came to me at like 3 AM,so....enjoy muah<3 Thump.....thump. DAMN IT CAROLINE GET OUT HERE! Another night another fight, that too on their anniversary, a classic. I scoff thinking about all the picture-perfect smiles and the absolutely lovely speech my dad had read out for my mom tonight, a show, it was all a show, no one knew what went inside our house every week, how my dad hit my mom, screamed at her and then bought ridiculously expensive gifts for her as if that would fix everything. I was so so tired of their useless fights, every time it all ended the same way, with my mom never leaving. I heard the rain outside before I saw it. One thing about me was that I always loved the rain, growing up, and till now it just felt right to cry under its cover, to cry with it, to admire how beautiful it felt to be enveloped in her comfort and just...let everything go. I sneaked out my window and walked out of our backyard. There was an abandoned house right behind mine, I spread rumors just so everyone thought, it was either haunted or inhabited, in truth it was my den. Snacks, clothes, comfy blankets, duvets, you name it. It had all I needed to feel better. When I entered my lair I noticed that most of my snacks were empty and the empty packets pristine clean. Oh no, someone had discovered the truth, I turned around only to find a pair of hazel eyes staring back at me, the darkness enveloped him, I couldn't see him, but guessed well enough he was taller than me. I cursed at myself for being stupid enough to enter an abandoned place at night in the middle of a heavy down pour. No, no, no, no. I stepped back I couldn't die like this, not in this shit hole. "Um, hello there. Are you okay? you just seem a little pale" I gaped at him. He had the most alluring voice id ever heard on a man and damn did it mess with my senses. "I won't hurt you, I promise. Look I'm not armed plus I dont even have enough energy to argue right now." He stepped a bit closer enough that I could make out his silhouette illuminated by the moonlight. His hazel eyes were a sweet honey brown shade, tanned skin, muscles, tall as frick, and hot too. Holy crap this guy looked straight out of a book. "Hello?". Realizing I'd been gaping at it the whole time it took me second to remember the situation I'd found myself in before I said "Hi, Im Lana" I lied, my name wasnt lana but i wasnt gonna tell some random guy who ate my snacks AND all my blueberry sour candy my name, Im not that dumb. He steps out of the shadows so i could get a proper look at him, and so he could look at me i realize. "Hello Lana, Im Azriel". I looked at him, really looked at him noticed 3 things, 1. He didnt look much older than me, meaning either he was in school or in college, 2. He was wearing my oversized hoodie which looked a little too small on him, and 3. He looked in a bad shape. He had bruises on his face marring his body, burned hands, swollen eye and looked cold, very cold and malnourished. He looked almost......homeless.

I snuck a glance outside.

I silently swore, if this man- Azriel, stayed here any longer he would DIE, either of fever or due to infection. I might already have brought a one way ticket to the deepest darkest pits of hell but doesnt mean he did. Without a thought i spit out "Come to my house". "Im sorry what?" he chuckled out smirking at me as a flush crept over me. "I-I meant that you cant stay here, there's heavy rain and its cold here. pfft that's totally what i meant" i stammer out. Reminder to curl up and die in a corner later on. He furrows his brow at my statement, a hint of amusement on his face. "Haven't you heard of stranger danger Lana?" He pipes out, his voice low and gravelly. "I doubt an 18 year old guy who wears Minnie Mouse hoodies with dora the explorer socks and a pink bow pajamas would try to kidnap me" Okay now this dude was really crossing it for me. Reminder number 2- Drown these clothes in holy water before wearing them again. Now it was his turn to be embarrassed. "I still look better in these than you could ever. But you're smart and these clothes fit me like a fucking tank top and shorts, so yes, Lana, I'll come to your house. Only because Im freezing out here" He added FRICK. FRICK THIS WAS A BAD,BAD IDEA

Azriels POV I stepped out of the shower, steam rising from the hot water. I smelled like lavender soap and vanilla- The scent of real men. I put on the fresh pair of clothes Lana gave me, A little smaller than what i wore but better than those hoodies of hers anyway. I saw her reading a book when i stepped out, no gods not another book-obsessed psycho. She motioned for me to sit down and applied some bandages, honey, and anti-septic cream and gave me some medecine, pain killers i guessed. She seemed to know what she was doing, better than going to a doctor if it meant it was free and she wasn't going- "Who gave you get these" My chain of thoughts are interrupted by her words. "I got myself banged up by a....raccoon?" A raccoon? A RACCOON? Thats the best I could come up with? Telling a girl that i got banged up by a raccoon? She laughs at my answer. It's not a soft melodic sound like i expected but a burst of laughter. She snorts and smirks at me. "Damn, a raccoon huh? Wait,does that mean your're pregnant now?Plus,what? did it tackle you to the ground with its little toe beans? What were you even fighting over, who gets the last thrown out doughnuts from the dumpster, oh, or, did she kick you out of the house instead? You're lovely raccoon wife." She laughs out, barely able to form the sentence without controlling her laughter. I roll my eyes but I cant help smile, I knew very little about this girl but i did know 4 things, 1. She was a terrible liar, introducing herself under a fake name when her name was written under every single one of her drawings, 'y/n' I liked that name, it sounded different yet familiar on my tongue. 2.She might have just saved my life 3. She had a very good taste in candy and 4. we are about to become very, very, very good friends, something I hadn't had in a while. Tell me in the comments if you want to be tagged in the next parts, plus im open to supportive constructive criticism so let me know how i can improve =) taglist: @anarchiii @starlightazriel @velarisdusk @siriuslystyle1989 @scorpioriesling