#a very nice and soft friendship for daisy

[holylulusworld]

Not alone any longer

Summary: You try to believe in your blooming friendship with Clark.

Pairing: Clark Kent x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, loner reader, introvert reader, flirty Clark, low self-esteem, fluff, Lois bashing, Lois is the worst, destruction of a car

Catch up here: Alone again - Naturally

“Clark, you came,” you gasp as Clark stands in front of your home. He’s got a bouquet of daisies in his hands, offering them to you. “I mean, you’re early.”

“We have a date,” he half-laughs. “You remember we wanted to go on a date.” Clark nervously looks at you. “Did you change your mind?”

“No!” You hastily say. “I didn’t change my mind. It’s just…uh… I didn’t know what to wear.” You drop your gaze. “It’s been a while since someone asked me out. I didn’t know where we were going and tried on so many outfits that I forgot about the time.”

Clark flashes you a soft smile. He seems almost shy when you take the flowers out of his hand, and invite him in.

While you look for a vase, Clark looks around your small apartment. It’s nice, cozy and inviting. You’ve got fluffy pillows on our couch, and lots of plushies keeping you company while you try to write.

“I read one of your articles. Uh-the one about the missing cat, and how the owner did everything to find them. It was heartwarming how you described their reunion.”

You awkwardly look down at your shoes. Embarrassed about your meaningless article, you sigh deeply. “You shouldn’t have read that crap. No one does read it.”

“I liked it very much, Y/N,” Clark softly says your name, making you feel warm. You can see the honesty in his eyes when you finally look at him. “You’ve got talent, Blossom. Never let anyone tell you otherwise.”

You shrug. “I’ll never win a Pulitzer Prize, or be as famous as Lois,” you sniffle. “She’s a star, and I’m the dirt under her shoes. Let’s be honest. Out of all the people I know, I’m the loser among them.”

“Y/N, that’s not true!”

You raise your hand and shake your head. “It’s okay, Clark. Why do you think none of my so-called friends stayed in touch?” You wipe your eyes. “Lois only invites me to rub her success and fame in my face. She didn’t even recognize that I left the party. If not for you, I’d be dead, and she wouldn’t even care. No one does.”

“I care,” Clark steps closer to grab your hand. “Not only because I saved you, Y/N. Before, during the party, you caught my eye. You looked as lost as I felt. I sometimes don’t know why I live here, among people who’ll never understand the burden of my powers and origin.”

“Oh, Clark.” You suddenly wrap your arms around him to comfort Clark. The strongest and bravest person you ever met. Running your hands up and down his back, you murmur his name. “I babble about my unimportant life and ignore that you must be struggling too. Hiding your true nature must be exhausting.”

He smiles and wraps his arms around you. Clark holds you close to his warm chest, feeling his heart beat a little faster. He hasn’t felt a connection with a person for a long time.

“It’s easier now that I got someone important in my life,” he whispers against you. Clark buries his face in your neck and sighs.

“Oh, who’s that? Did you meet someone nice?” You innocently ask, dipping your head to look up at Clark. “I hope they are nice.”

“Blossom, I meant you,” he smiles and presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “You know about my secret for weeks, and didn’t try to take advantage of it.”

“Why would I? You’re a hero, and it’s an honor to know about your secret identity,” you shyly glance up at Clark. “Even though, flying still scares me.”

“I promise to fly carefully with you in my arms.” He smiles when you shy away. You didn’t think Clark wanted to see again, let alone, fly with you again. “I’ll not drop you.”

You giggle when he tells you. “What if you sneeze, and I slip out of your hands? I’ll end up as a pancake on the ground.”

Something flashes in his eyes. Not the red you saw in pictures or videos on the news. No. Worry, fear even. “I never get sick.”

“You never get sick?” You wonder aloud. “Oh, that’s good. I think. I mean, you’re from another world. Makes sense that our diseases can’t harm you.”

“Sometimes I wish that I was a normal guy, with normal problems and a normal life. No one would believe that Superman lies awake at night, dreaming of losing his powers.”

“You do?” you whimper. “I didn’t know you were lonely and sad too.” You hide your face in his chest. “But we are friends now. So, you’re not alone anymore.”

“Yeah,” he hums. “We are friends now…”

“Lois, what’s wrong?” You gasp watching your friend storm into your home. She huffs and throws her locks back while brushing past you. Lois looks around your living room, sneering as her eyes land on the daises Clark got for you.

“You know exactly what’s wrong,” she twirls around to glare at you. “Your life must be extremely shitty if you must go out with my boyfriend!”

“Your boyfriend?” You frown deeply. “I thought you’re single. And I don’t know who you are talking about.”

“Clark Kent!” She spats. “You had to date my boyfriend, didn’t you? Just you know, he only feels sorry for you. Pathetic little Y/N, always so lonely and sad, standing in the corner to lure sweet Clark in.”

“He’s not your boyfriend,” you’re getting angry. “You broke up with him over a year ago. And, when he talked to me, I didn’t even know he was your ex. What Clark and I do is none of your business. We are friends and like spending time together!”

Lois wrinkles her nose at the word friends. “Does he know you’re a frigid, emotionally disabled and whiny little bitch? I guess not.”

She raises her hand to slap your face. You flinch and prepare for the impact when something outside your window explodes. Dropping to the ground, you press your hands to your ear as Lois screams in terror. She needs a moment before running toward your balcony.

Ever the investigative journalist, she steps onto your balcony to look down at the sidewalk to see her car got destroyed. It seems like it got cut into two halves. “No, what…” She shakes her head. Lois knows there’s only one person in this world able to cut her car into two halves within the blink of his eyes. “Why would he do this?”

Superman floats high above the sky, unseen. Watching Lois yell at you, he got angry. Even more, when she raised her hand against you, he couldn’t hurt her, so he did the next best thing. Clark sent a warning to her.

“You destroyed her car,” you glance down at the people in the streets. They look like ants as you float above the city. “Why?”

“She wanted to hurt you,” Clark holds you safe in his arms as you cling to him. You’re still scared of flying around with him, but he asked you to come with him so sweetly, you couldn’t deny him. “I’m sorry for scaring you. I got so mad and… I shouldn’t have… I’m sorry.”

“I’d smashed her car too if I had any powers,” you give him a cracked smile. “She was vile and mean without a reason. Lois only got mad because we are friends now. She is like a kid wanting her toy back after she threw it away.”

“I’m a toy?” He looks at you in his arms.

“No…that’s not…” you sigh. “I didn’t mean it that way. She’s just…”

“I know, Blossom.” Clark presses his lips to your forehead. “What she said was mean. I couldn’t let her hurt you even more.”

“She’s not wrong,” you sniff. “I’m not good with dates and such. Men usually run for the hills after one date because I get nervous and anxious easily.”

“Y/N, I like you the way you are,” he whispers. Clark dips his head to press a soft kiss on your lips—a short and sweet one to test the waters. You giggle as your cheeks heat up. “I like you a lot, Blossom.”

“I like you a lot too, Clarkie,” you smile at Clark, feeling your heart flutter. “Can you…” You giggle, “Kiss me again?”

You don’t have to ask twice. Clark kisses you again, soft and sweet, while you float about the city. You forget about Lois and the rest of the world. It’s just you and Clark, and that is enough…

Part 3 - FIN

Tags in reblog.

[dreamsteddie]

Companion piece to my Stobin childhood friends au post because try as I might to resist it, the Steddie brain rot will take over.

Robin and Steve are thick as thieves from that first day of preschool onwards. Their matching friendship bracelets don't fit anymore but have found homes in their "secret friendship treasure chest" which is a shoe box covered in construction paper decorations that lives under Robin's bed so Steve's parents don't throw away any of his "trash" again. They've started a tradition of making a new one for each other at the start of every year so everyone remembers they're best friends, though.

Halfway through first grade (Robin got to start school a year early like the Buckleys hoped) things are going great for Robin. She gets to bring books home from the library and their teacher complimented her drawing of a robin and she helped Steve pass his spelling test last week, so as far as she's concerned this is the best year ever.

Right up until Eddie Munson transfers to their school.

At first, Robin doesn't know that Eddie will be her arch-nemesis. When he's introduced to the class, all she really thinks about him is that he looks a little funny but seems nice. He's got really big eyes and he's taller than most of the other kids with long, gangly limbs. His hair is shaved down to his head, but there are other boys in class who have the same cut. He gets placed at the table group to the left of them in the chair closest to Steve's.

She very quickly forgets about him as the day continues as normal. Robin thinks math block is boring, she'd much rather read her books or play with Steve at recess but her parents said knowing your shapes is important, so she pays extra special attention. That's why she doesn't catch the little wave Steve, ever the social butterfly, gives to the boy across the way or the way Eddie's eyes go even bigger and a soft blush steals across his cheeks.

What she does notice is when Eddie comes up to them in the last few precious minutes of recess slightly sweaty and out of breath holding a little white daisy.

"Hi! I'm Eddie, I'm new!" he says, shouts really, looking directly at Steve.

"Oh, hi Eddie! I'm Steve, this is my bestest friend, Robin." Steve replies.

"Like the bird?" Eddie asks.

"Yeah! They're orange."

"And I hate orange!" Robin buts in, not willing to be left out of the conversation

"Yeah, it's really sad. They should be blue, that's Robin's favorite color." Steve says, real disappointment creeping into his voice. "Who's that for?" he asks, pointing to the forgotten daisy.

"Oh! It's for you! I was out all recess looking for the best one in the field. They kind of match your shirt!' Eddie says proudly, referencing Steve's polo with the yellow body and white sleeves. It's one of his favorites.

"Really? That's so nice, thank you!" Steve exclaims as he takes the little flower into his hands.

Robin's mom says that sometimes when you want to be someone's friend, it's good to start by giving them something nice. Robin's mom says that she should try and make more friends, maybe some girls instead of just Steve, but when Robin tries to talk to the other girls in class, she gets nervous and clams up. She thinks she might be allergic to them. Plus, why would she need more friends when she has Steve, who is worth at least three normal friends.

Steve gets along with everyone, he lends people erasers and pencils and shares his blocks with the other kids when he's allowed to bring them out of his cubby, but no one is his best friend like Robin is.

No one has ever given Steve flowers before, though. That feels like an extra special kind of gift that someone would give if they wanted to be really good friends, and Robin doesn't want that. Steve is her best friend, he doesn't need another one.

"Steve, we gotta go get in line before all the other kids! We don't want to be last!" she blurts out, grabbing Steve by the hand and dragging him across the asphalt to where the teachers are getting ready to call everyone to get in line before Eddie can catch up.

Once they've got their places, she looks back at Steve behind her to see he's turned around. She peaks her head around him and sees him smiling wide at an equally smiley Eddie who's about 5 kids behind them, each of them waving happily at each other.

Oh yeah, Robin is going to have to keep an eye on him.

[fionajames]

prompts

A/N: Hello guys!!! I decided I'd send a list of various prompts for you guys to send me as requests. Absolutely anyone is free to use this! There are one word, dialogue, idea and song prompts!!!

One word prompts

hiraeth 

lost

catacombs

bloodhound

whisper 

broth

brine

froth

angel

wheat

camp

cry

shadow

bramble

herd

pack

wild

runaway

solstice

courage

tracks

woods

hike

firefly

quill

moon

sun

stars

spirit

song

splinter

clear

ice

sea

clouded

hum

jinx

limbo

wire

barbed

spear

sword

breath

holly

sink

drown

canine

willow

twine

whistle

Song prompts

not strong enough (boygenius)

meet me in the woods (lord huron)

cherry wine - live (hozier)

sweet tooth (cavetown)

1979 (smashing pumpkins)

bloodhound (the foxing)

rory (the foxing)

still feel (half alive)

best friend (rex orange country)

be nice to me (the front bottoms)

wires (the neighbourhood)

running with the wolves (AURORA)

the night we met (lord huron)

i’d rather be alone (boodahki)

cocaine jesus (rainbow kitten surprise)

romantic homicide (d4vd)

duvet (bôa)

breezeblocks (alt-J)

me and the devil (soap&skin)

heavydirtysoul (twenty one pilots)

father (the front bottoms)

waterfalls coming out of your mouth (glass animals)

genesis (grimes)

devil like me (rainbow kitten surprise)

rockstar (boywithuke)

bad habit (steve lacy)

my ordinary life (the living tombstone)

notorious (neoni)

nothings new (rio romeo)

lighthouse (the waifs)

step on me (the cardigans)

inside out (duster)

the man (taylor swift)

mind over matter (young giant)

rises the moon (liana flores)

sparks (coldplay)

mama’s boy (dominic fike)

way down we go (kaleo)

evergreen (richy mitch & the coal miners)

yorktown - the world turned upside down (original broadway cast of hamilton)

i love you so (the walters)

505 (arctic monkeys)

labour (paris paloma)

worldstar money - interlude (joji)

willow (taylor swift)

leave a light on (tom walker)

pretty boy (the neighbourhood)

lovers rock (tv girl)

the last great american dynasty (taylor swift)

you’re on your own kid (taylor swift)

ho hey (the lumineers)

stubborn love (the lumineers)

dear arkansas daughter (lady lamb)

watching him fade away (mac demarco)

o children (nick cave & the bad seeds)

Idea prompts

running through wheat fields

running through garden hose droplets

dancing in the rain

walking in the bush

splashing in the sea

horse riding

rolling down grass fields

trekking through forest

swimming in forest creeks

rock hopping

daisy chains and crowns

collecting wood for fire

bonfire at night

walking on abandoned highways and roads

lighthouse exploring 

cartwheeling and playing in fresh grass

morning dew and crisp morning air

dirt under your nails

tree climbing

abandoned towns

walking on train tracks

wooden boats

island exploring

baking in then morning quiet

watching movies very late at night

staying up late at sleepovers

corn mazes

wheat fields

frozen lakes

frozen forests

paper planes

jam jars

friendship bracelets

barbed wire fences

blood dripping on tiles

scratchy vinyl music

empty dark cold nights

canine teeth

fireflies in fields

camp cabins

sea shanties

sibling play fighting/rivalry (blood or not)

road trips with loud music

picnic dates in the forest

busy arcades

bookstore dates - the smell of old books

playing soft acoustic guitar in nature

playing fiddle and dancing around campfires

stargazing

laying in bed awake

Dialogue prompts 

“please kill me”

“i’m everything you can not control”

“i am the monster you created”

“am i that easy to forget?”

“i will never hesitate to put my life on the line for you”

“stars can not shine without darkness”

“i miss the old you”

“remember who you are”

“please don’t leave”

“listen here pal”

“how much is enough”

“i remember smiling the whole way home”

“i never told you i was falling in love”

“do you want to go wander around aimlessly?”

“you still feel like home”

“no matter what, you’re still my brother”

“i could never hate you”

“let me help”

“help me, please”

“we’re just kids”

“water is so exciting with straws”

“i can’t stop thinking about you”

“get in the blanket fort”

“when they smile, i forget how to breathe”

“platonic love is just as important”

“i’m homesick for a place i’m not sure is real”

“smile more, it looks beautiful on you”

“runaway with me” 

“dance with me?”

“come back to bed”

“your bleeding on my floor”

“stars sparkle in your eyes”

“sarcasm is a weapon”

“can we just go back?”

“i miss how it used to be”

“hold me”

“any closer to them and i’ll kill you”

“i’ll be by your side forever”

“are you ok?”

“it’s going to be okay”

“i’m going to cry, but happy tears”

“can i crash on your couch?”

“we’ve got more than two people crashing in our house”

“i belong with you”

“you’re my soulmate” 

“hold my hand, please?”

“they smile when you message them”

“i want to live”

“sing to me”

“we’re finally home”

A/N: @techs-goggles9902, @skellymom

[dazedandinked]

Steddie fic recs (2/?)

Part 1

In the last six month I've read, saved and commented an alarming amount of Steddie fics. I finally feel ready to share some of my favorite so far with all of you because I think all the authors deserve kudos and new readers!

I'm not much of a writer, but I hope you'll like my suggestions. Feel free to RB, leave comments and recs for me.

This second part took me a while, but hey I made it!

Buckle up, this time we have: some very good famous Steddie au, one of my fav Punk Steve fics ever, a very sweet coffee shop au and some LARP!

I have a lot of regrets about that by @hairmetal666

The thing is: I just finished reading "Daisy Jones & The Six" (which I strongly rec) and my scrolling brought me to this fic. It's destiny, there's no other explaination.

I really enjoyed the interview writing style, it's nice to get multiple POVs about the events. The feelings and the pain between Steve and Eddie are so sincere it broke my heart in a few moments.

The ending is just delicious to me.

***

New York Hardcore by @grandmastattoo

Before adding a short comment, I'd like to underline the fact that this specific is quite intense - or it was for me.

Ok, so. I'm not sure where to start with this fic - and the whole series. I really enjoy Punk!Steve in every shape and color, but this fic has something that really left me so raw and tender.

***

The pain and grief are described magnificently, the images are so powerful. The healing process is long and complex but oh, so freeing to read. I love Steve being a weirdo, loving with abandon and without restraints.

Kudos to the author because they did their research and it shows: there are a lot of great references to places and music. The punk in this fic is so real, not some pop punk stuff!

Red Eye by @alinafewwords

This fic is still in progress. Not everyone reads incomplete fics, but I do and I felt the need to rec this one.

I think I mentioned this before, but I'm a modern au avid reader.

I really *love* this particular coffee shop au because it's the right mix of fluff and caffeine that keeps me alive. I particularly enjoyed the growth of Eddie and Steve's friendship, the soft intimacy surrounding their moments together. Also, the spicy six get to be there and there a good amount of buckingham, which is definetely a lovely plus.

***

The Shire in NOT on Fire by @kissesforcas

Is there someone out there who hasn't read this fic and loved it? I don't think so.

The idea of the Party joining a Reinfaire and LARP event is just so nice, I always love reading about them having a good time together - no trauma involved.

The idea of Steve and Robin being exposed to a whole world they don't know is just really funny, with all the costumes and roleplaying involved. Everything concerning Steve trying to resist Baby Byers when it comes to convince him to do whatever the Party asks him makes me cackle. I couldn't resist that puppy face either.

The plot is fun, the pining is delicious, the smut is even more delicious.

You don't know this fic already? Well, hop on the train right now!

***

Slither by @mixsethaddams

This fic is still in progress. Not everyone reads incomplete fics, but I do and I felt the need to rec this one.

Also, I didn't really mind the tag before reading because the themes don't really trigger me. However, it may not be your cup of tea.

I must admit, it took a while for me to start this fic because the setting isn't one of my usual au choices. I don't really read influencer/youtuber aus, but this fic was a blast - I couldn't put my phone down!

I loved reading about Eddie and Steve's blossoming weird friendship, and the PLOT! Like, I didn't expect the many heavy subjects to be described in such a different-but-insightful way (altought the author did a great job mentioning all of them, mind the tags guys and don't be like me).

Chrissy is probably my favourite so far, I love her, Eddie and Gareth being a team!

Finally, AUTHOR I FINISHED CH8 AND HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO LIVE LOVE LAUGH IN THIS CONDITION.

That said, see you next part guys!

Daze

[hopepetal]

Sorry for the wait. I’m in classes right now. Uh, here it is! (ft. Very Unfamiliar Faces)

Three hunters leaned against a pine tree, staring at the stars. It had not been a good day.

They were supernatural hunters, and good ones. Their quest was simple: bring back a few vampires to auction to the highest bidder. Despite the locals stating the creatures were vicious, the trio had felt prepared. In fact, a friendly guy with curly blond hair had pointed them towards the supernatural’s territory! 

What they were not expecting was five vampires, three fae, and a small girl with quicksilver eyes and bright pink crocs. 

Now the hunters were left for dead. They were so exhausted that all they could do was sit there and wait for relief. In fact, they almost didn’t hear the approaching footsteps.

A young woman with coiled hair stumbled to her feet and drew her sword. 

“Who goes there?” Silence. “Whoever you are, we’re armed, dangerous, and-” A figure emerges from behind the surrounding greenery. The man gasps at the sight. 

One of the fae from earlier pauses in front of them. With a soft pink cardigan and a circlet of buttercups and daisies, it was easy to take her for a weak enemy. The burns on the man’s forearms said otherwise. She carried a satchel and a stern face. 

“I’m not going to hurt you.” She looks over at the woman with the sword. “Please put the sword down, and make this easier for both of us.” The woman glanced at her weapon before dropping it with a soft thud. 

The fae softened. “Thank you. I appreciate not having something sharp pointed at me.” She approached the group before kneeling in front of another woman. Her hair was plastered to her face and neck with blood. Their face was pale, and they were shivering. The fae asked, “What’s your name?” 

“I-it’s Opal.” She gulped. “My name is Opal.” 

“Now Opal, I want you to stay still. This shouldn’t hurt.” 

The fae laid her hands on Opal’s stomach, which had deep scratches from the vampire’s claws. She closed her eyes and began to mutter under her breath. Neon sparks shot out of her hands and danced around the wound. Opal let out a soft moan of pain. The other woman instinctively reached for her sword, but recoiled after a stern look from the fae. 

Soon, the wound had sealed up, leaving fresh pink skin in its place. Opal breathed a sigh of relief, the color returning to her skin.

“Thank you, for doing,” -they motioned broadly with their hands- “whatever that was.” 

“I closed the wound up, but it’s still prone to re-opening,” the fae said. She pulled some bandages and gauze wrap out of her satchel. “Let me wrap it up for you, then I’ll take care of your friends.” 

After everyone was successfully healed, Stress produced a plate of bread, cheese, and various small vegetables. 

“Eat. You need it.”

 The man, previously hesitant, immediately reached over and grabbed a handful of cheese cubes. He popped one in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. 

“Mmm, gouda. Haven’t had any in years!” He swallowed before continuing. “Oh, and the name’s Marc. If we’re still doing that.”

 The swordswoman made a weird-looking wrap out of lettuce, cheese, and baby tomatoes. She nodded her thanks to the fae before saying, “And I’m Fern. Opal,” -she gestured to the woman- “is my soulmate.” Opal, who was enthusiastically chowing down on a self-made sandwich, nodded violently. 

The fae smiled softly. “Nice to meet you,” she said. 

In that moment, it was easy to forget that the two groups were mortal enemies. A small picnic, spread underneath the stars. The eagerness of the hunters to tell the fae their names. The trust the women had when telling her about their soulbinding. Perhaps, in another world, this would be where a friendship began. 

The fae tapped the plate on the grass to remove the crumbs before placing it back in her satchel. She stood up slowly as the stern look returned to her face. 

“Now, if you don’t mind, get the fuck out of my territory.”

-Nonny

OH MY GOODNESS NONNY THIS IS AMAZING

AND THE TRIO!!! OH MY GOSH!!! THE LESBIANS AND MARC!!! OH WOW

this is so good nonny oh my goodness gracious I love this so so much

[annarellix]

THE BEACH HUT MURDERS (The Charity Shop Detective Agency Mysteries Book 2) by Peter Boland

My Review: I fall hard for this series when I read The Charity Shop Detective Agency: I loved the solid and well plotted mystery, the quirky characters and the compelling plot. I had high expectations for this book and couldn’t wait to catch with Fiona, Sue and Daisy, the ladies of the Dogs Need Nice Homes, and read about their squabbles with the Cat Alliance. This book is all I loved in the first instalment and something more as the ladies investigates another complex series of murder and use their brain to solve it. I read it in one sitting as I couldn’t stop turning pages as I was having a lot of fun and wanted to know the solution. If you want to read a well plotted and highly entertaining cozy mystery, if you like Richard Osman or Richard Cole novels, go and read this series. Highly recommended. Many thanks to Joffe Books and Books 'n' all Promotions for this digital copy, all opinions are mine

The Book:

It’s almost summer in Southbourne and the ladies of the Charity Shop Detective Agency are ready for another season of sun, sea and . . . murder.

Amongst the rows of charming brightly painted cabins, an elderly man’s beach hut is set on fire in the middle of the night — while he slept inside. By day, Fiona, Sue and Daisy volunteer at the Dogs Need Nice Homes charity shop. But, by night, they investigate crimes. And they’re determined to get to the bottom of this murder. Malcolm Crainey was a bit of an eccentric, but he was harmless really. Who would want to kill him?

The ladies soon uncover a long list of possible suspects. Neighbours who hated Malcolm for refusing to swap huts. Members of the snobby beach hut association who took umbrage with Malcom’s quirky beachcombed cabin decorations. Then another hut is burned down in the dead of night. Thankfully there was no one asleep inside this time. But the pressure is on — can Fiona, Sue and Daisy find the culprit before the beach hut murderer strikes again

THE CHARITY SHOP DETECTIVES Level-headed Fiona has found a quiet sanctuary volunteering at the local charity shop, Dogs Need Nice Homes. A charity shop that raises money for, well, dogs that need nice homes. And she’s found firm friendship with the strong-willed Partial Sue (she’s ever so partial to a cup of tea) and the kindly and surprisingly tech-savvy Daisy. Together, these ladies, with Simon Le Bon, Fiona’s scruffy-haired terrier cross, investigate murders as the Charity Shop Detective Agency.

THE SETTING The lovely coastal town of Southbourne is, on paper, little more than a small suburb hemmed in by Bournemouth to the west and Christchurch to the north. But it’s home to the prettiest avenues lined with gorgeous Georgian homes which lead to a grass-topped cliff standing guard over a sweeping bay of blond sand, soft as Demerara sugar. Some say it’s also home to the best charity shops in the country. The ladies of the Charity Shop Detective Agency maintain that Dogs Need Nice Homes — though musty and more than a little cramped — is certainly number one. Well, they definitely help solve the most crimes at least!

ALSO BY PETER BOLAND THE CHARITY SHOP DETECTIVE AGENCY MYSTERIES Book 1: THE CHARITY SHOP DETECTIVE AGENCY Book 2: THE BEACH HUT MURDERS

The Author: PETER BOLAND After studying to be an architect, Pete realised he wasn’t very good at it. He liked designing buildings, he just couldn’t make them stand up — a big handicap in an industry that’s partial to keeping things upright. So he became an advertising copywriter, the highlight of which was creating an ad featuring Raymond Briggs’ The Snowman. He then tried his hand at writing his own stories and quickly realised there’s no magic formula. You just have to put one word in front of the other (and keep doing that for about six months). It also helps if you can resist the lure of surfing and drinking beer in a garden chair. The first book in his Charity Shop Detective Agency series will publish in late 2022.

FOLLOW PETER ON: GOODREADS FACEBOOK TWITTER Joffe Books page

[lululawrence]

lululawrence's June 2022 Fic List

Previous Fic Lists / Lulu’s List Podcast Masterpost

June was a rough month for me and because of that I apparently took to reading. A LOT. I was able to finish 19 fics/series this month, and there are some hella high word counts in here, but I hope that doesn't scare you off, because they're amazing as well. Always a fan of variety, there are also some really great ficlets in here too, so if you aren't someone who can read long fics, that's fine. I promise I've got some in here for you too! I'm afraid I used a lot of the same phrases to explain how very much I enjoyed all of these fics, but they truly were all such fantastic reads, so I hope you find some in here that you will also be able to read and enjoy!

My podcast for this month is now available!. I love getting to rave about these great fics to all of you, and I hope you enjoy listening as well.

As always, be sure to show your love and appreciation for all of the hard work our fandom authors have put into their fics with kudos, nice comments, and (when applicable) reblogging their fic posts!

The Risen series by @creamcoffeelou / creamcoffeelou (20k, E, Harry/Louis, A/B/O dynamics, alpha Louis, omega Harry, Cult AU, journalist Harry, cult leader Louis, dark fic, dark Louis, 1970s, a LOT of potentially triggering topics and content so please check the tags and keep yourself safe!, suuuuper dark and kinda creepy and just not okay shit happening here, but if exploring those kinds of things is of interest then defo check this series out, it's so fucking fascinating and yet shudder inducing at the same time hah)

Darling, so it goes by @disgruntledkittenface / disgruntledkittenface (195k, E, Harry/Louis, Big Bang fic, Grace Kelly AU, Harry is Grace Kelly hehe, Royalty, famous/famous, Prince Louis, actor Harry, this fic takes us from their first meeting all through their flirting and getting to know each other to dating, engagement, wedding, and even some of their marriage, and it is EPIC AND WONDERFUL, it isn't all sunshine and daisies, and the way the growth of their relationship and the way they handled everything thrown at them, it was just incredible, it was so good i cannot rave enough holy cow)

an honest mistake by @disgruntledkittenface / disgruntledkittenface (2k, NR, Harry/Louis, meet ugly, hahahaha, pining, i guess? lol, can it be pining in a ficlet like this?, it is though i think it fits as a descriptor, fluff, flirting, humor, banter, this fic is so funny and cute and it is just such a fun fic i love it, i actually listened to this as an episode of @fanficfanaticpodcast and it had me legit giggling as i listened, it was so much fun)

dark blue by @larrieblr / safetyfilm (6k, T, Gen - OT4 friendship, canon divergent, apocalyptic au, dystopian au, crack fic, this fic is so difficult to summarize lmao, based on What a Feeling, Song Fic, Dreams, like the world starts falling apart and it's all one direction's fault because of the song, it's so fucking hilarious and just so weird, i LOVE it lolllll)

Choo-Choose Me by @ladyaj-13 / LadyAJ_13 (4k, G, Liam/Louis, train conductor Louis, commuter Liam, meet cute, crushes, kissing, this fic is just so fluffy and cute omg i love it, and it almost entirely takes place on the train, hehehe i love the premise of it all and the way it ends so perfectly)

The Greatest Thing by @infinitelymint / infinitelymint (164k, E, Harry/Louis, canon divergent, accidental marriage, fake marriage, friends to enemies to husbands to friends to lovers, lmaoooo, for real though that is basically their journey?, angst, so much angst and pain, and then so much healing, it's so soft and gentle and self indulgent for like ALL of us i think, there's so much cuddling and love and growth and working through the hard stuff, it's so wonderful i adore this fic so very much)

The Grundy County Auction Incident by @haztobegood / haztobegood (4k, T, Nick/Harry/Louis, based on a tiktok, kinda lollll, country fic, polyamory, frame narrative, established relationship, retelling of how they got together essentially, this is such a cute fic, it's everything i could have dreamed of the prompt becoming with this pairing, i'm so so so happy Jinny took this where she did cause i just threw the video into the chat and screamed and then magic, so fucking good)

Remember Me Before You by @kingsofeverything / kingsofeverything (294k, E, Harry/Louis, there's a lot of Zayn/Niall in there too but they're just a very prominent side pairing lol, New Girl AU, Harry is Jess, Louis is Nick, Niall is Schmidt, Liam as Winston, Zayn as Cece, teacher Harry, bartender Louis, writer Louis, roommates, friends to lovers, slow burn, like something like 200k of SLOW burn lol, humor, omg the insane humor, this reads like a 300k crack fic with feelings, it's amazing i just, how do you summarize 300k?!?!?, anyway it's fucking fantastic so worth your time)

New York Kiss by @quelsentiment / wordsnnotes (47k, M, Zayn/Louis, famous/non famous, kinda haha it's complicated, actor Louis, writer Zayn, meet ugly, hurt/comfort, pining, COVID, quarantine, miscommunication, angst with a happy ending, fluff, also other potentially triggering topics so please read the tags, this fic is beautiful and deep and so completely filled with emotion, the way that music is so deeply a part of Zayn is so gorgeous, his friendship with Harry is so cool to see in their distanced way thanks to COVID, but the ziam friendship and ziall friendship is just beautifully done and so palpable, i love and adore it so very much)

now you're in my life (I can't get you off my mind) by @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed / we_are_the_same (34k, M, Harry/Louis, A/B/O dynamics, omega Harry, alpha Louis, ace Harry, sex repulsed Harry, internalized acephobia, lirry friendship (and roommates), Uni AU, meet cute, pining, flirting, self acceptance, GAH you guys i pre-read this and for many reasons i'm probably biased, but this fic is just SO GOOD OKAY OMG, the ace rep is so good, and seeing it in this particular way in an a/b/o world is so cool)

We Might'a Took the Long Way by @evilovesyou / 4ureyesonly28 (8k, G, Harry/Louis, based on a tiktok, gallery owner Harry, artist Louis, art teacher Louis, artist Zayn, chef Niall, angst with a happy ending, no smut, this is just SUCH a great fic, it is the perfect length to give you some excitement, then the pain, and then the hard work the character has to put in in order to fix it, and i LOVE it)

Follow Your Arrow by @ladyaj-13 / LadyAJ_13 (36k, T, Harry/Louis, Big Bang fic, canon divergent, A/B/O dynamics, fake alpha Louis, secret omega Louis, leader of the pack Louis, the rest of the band knows he's omega, but no one else does, and OMG, Harry presenting throws everything off and it's SO FUCKING GOOD Y'ALL OMG, angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, touch deprivation, depri, dropping, nesting, self discovery, pining, gahhhhh listen, lady aj might say this fic was incredibly self indulgent, but it felt like it indulged every single thing i love about a/b/o possibilities and the secret omega trope, GAHHHHHH so fucking good i know i keep saying that this month but it was jam packed with fucking amazing reads)

let me show you by @larrieblr / safetyfilm (1.5k, T, Harry/Louis, questioning sexuality, never have i ever (the game, not the show lol), recreational alcohol/drug usage, a lot of internal monologue, this fic is so pure and sweet i just really loved it, it was part of the @podfic-pals pride episode too so you should defo listen)

Baby, Don’t Apologize by @neondiamond / Neondiamond (2k, T, Harry/Louis, A/B/O dynamics, alpha Louis, omega Harry, ace Harry, insecure Harry, established relationship, fluff, so much fluff and gentleness and love, it was so beautiful, but also it hit a little close to home in some ways so it was also hard to listen to at times for me personally, in other words it was really spot fucking on regarding the ace representation so SUPER pleased with that haha, it was just so so good and so filled with love, i adored it, it was also a part of the pride episode like the previous fic so yessss hehe)

Crawling on Your Shores by @juliusschmidt / juliusschmidt (67k, E, Liam/Harry, mechanic Liam, small town USA, OT4 friendship, Liam is a bit lost in a lot of ways, self discovery, extreme winter, that's a tag used by the author and it made me snort because yes this is very true lol, lots of discussion and thinking focused on mental illness and UFOs and suicide, lots of concern over death/disappearance of a loved one that happened prior to the fic starting, angst, pining, this fic is incredibly heavy tbh, but it is so beautiful as well, secret relationship, as Alex says "A Vast Universe of Uncertainty and Ambiguity" and that is a hell of a way to put it, very accurate hahaha, angst with a happy ending, there's just, this fic is a lot and so please be careful but it is STELLAR as well so just please consider reading it, it's incredible)

True as it Can Be by @beelou / cherrylarry (12k, G, Harry/Louis, Beauty and the Beast AU, girl direction, Harry is Belle, Louis is the Beast, they are both girls but the rest of one direction are boys, Liam is Lumiere, Niall is Cogsworth, and Zayn is the duster that Lumiere is into in the movie hahahaha, does she have a name?, anyway, so this is historical setting wise, and involves all the wonderful things that fairy tale does, it's a fun amalgamation of the animated and live action disney movies, and i just ADORED this fic)

Something About Liminal Spaces by @kingsofeverything / kingsofeverything (34k, E, Harry/Louis, Soulmates Abroad fic, set in New Zealand, writer Louis, older Louis, silver fox Louis, age difference, younger Harry, soulmates, soulmarks, slow burn, divorced Louis, hurt/comfort in a way for sure, this fic is so so beautiful and it's like, well i told lauren it was like she wrote it for me lmao, it has so many of my favorite things in it, and i devoured it in one night so it was clearly a fic i loved and needed right then, i just omg i really really love this fic so much)

Only by @allwaswell16 / allwaswell16 (34k, E, Harry/Louis, Soulmates Abroad fic, set in Tristan da Cunha, famous/non-famous, royalty au, soulmates, enemies to lovers is a bit extreme but maybe dislike to lovers lol, Prince Harry, post office/tourism worker Louis, musician Louis, falling in love, misunderstandings, friendship, first time, this fic is really really sweet and i loved the way everything was navigated considering how they were kind of unexpectedly thrown into the situation they were, on the most remote island in the world, lollll, it was so good, i was sad when it ended and accidentally yelled in my comment, sorry anitra i love you lol)

Like it was at the start by @quelsentiment / wordsnnotes (15k, T, Gen - Liam & Louis friendship, Soulmates Abroad, set at Lake Louise Canada, best friends Liam and Louis, soulmates Liam and Louis, platonic soulmates, aroace Liam, platonic love, first kiss, growing up together, coming out, this fic is such a cool exploration of a concept i hadn't really considered, which was aroace characters in soulmate pairings, and i just loved the way it was all handled and the complexity of the emotions involved, it was beautiful)

[separatist-apologist]

Cruel Summer

I love you, ain't that the worst thing you ever heard?

Summary: It was supposed to be a summer trip around Europe before Elain Archeron settled into life as a post-grad. It was supposed to be nothing more than a 2,000 year old wall built by a long dead Roman Emperor. It was supposed to be fun.

So why is Elain Archeron trapped in a strange world filled to the brim with magic and men in masks who refuse to let her leave? Something isn't right and Elain is determined to get to the bottom of her accidental shift in the world.

Or die trying.

Outlander-ish IDK you know what you're getting from me at this point just come inside.

Chapter 1: You Hit Me Like A Hurricane

Read more: AO3

Cold. 

It was July in England and yet when Elain Archeron stepped out of the tour bus in her cute pink flats dotted with little daisies, she wished she’d brought a jacket. Beside her stood her best friend since she’d left Chicago for UCLA, Harper Harris. Goosebumps had erupted all over Elain’s bare shoulders, clad in a thick spaghetti strap sundress. It was meant for drinking on patios, with its cute white lace overlay and the soft yellow fabric just beneath that offered a pop of color to the otherwise understated dress. She’d purchased it in Rome for an insane number of euro, laughing to herself. When in Rome, right?

Not here, in cloudy England and certainly not as they tramped over the countryside to Hadrian’s wall. Harper, in much more sensible jeans and a quarter-sleeve blue shirt that offered a peek of stomach every time she moved her arms, was ready for the short hike to the wall. This was what Elain got, traveling Europe for the summer with a history major. 

All Elain wanted was to drink nice wine and eat good food and see fields and fields of flowers. Harper wanted to take one last victory lap on behalf of ancient Rome, dragging Elain to ruined site after ruined site and offering commentary that often annoyed their tour guides. The one at present, an older man that reminded her a little of her father, was already eyeing Harper with suspicion. Would he have to compete on his own tour to share information? 

Probably.

Elain sighed. They’d be in Scotland that night and she’d have a drink in her hand, if nothing else. She could indulge Harper on this, though sometimes she felt as if her wants were shoved to the side so Harper could let at yet another aqueduct or ruined building. Harper was so good at advocating for herself and getting what she needed, often at Elain’s expense. There were times that was a good thing. Elain never got cheated out of money and yet privately she couldn’t help but wonder if she hadn’t accidentally replicated the fraught relationship she’d always had with her sisters. 

“Last stop,” Harper said, looping her arm through Elain’s. “I promise we’ll go to that town with the bookstore. We’ll rent bikes and everything,” Harper added, bumping her arm with Elain’s. Elain smiled at her friend, tucking a piece of golden brown hair behind her ear. Harper, with her bleached pixie cut and her easy smile, was magnetic. Cute, in a very loud sort of way. Elain knew part of why Harper wanted to see ruins over the very instagrammable tulip fields, for example, was her long abiding insecurity of being photographed beside Elain. And Elain tried really hard not to let that bother her, to drown out the drunken words Harper had once slurred in their shared sorority room senior year. People only like you because you’re hot, Lainey. But I have to work for it…my friendships are genuine.

Harper didn’t remember saying it but Elain remembered it. She’d merely tucked it away and yet she wondered too often if Harper wasn’t sabotaging part of this trip for that specific reason. She smiled, bumping Harper back. “We don’t have to rent bikes so long as we can buy books.” “Done,” Harper agreed. “Have you thought any more about what you’re going to do in the fall?”

Elain, stepping from the well paved road onto the concrete path, bit back a sigh of irritation. She was going back to Chicago—she already had a job lined up with the Art Institute as one of their fashion curators. It was a good job in a big city close to both of her sisters. Nesta worked as high powered attorney and had pulled more than a few strings to land Elain the interview that got her the museum job and Feyre was studying art at the University of Chicago. Elain was the only one of them who had left for school and though she enjoyed everything Los Angeles had to offer, she found herself longing for familiar sights, for home on Lake Michigan and brunch with Nesta and shots with Feyre. 

Harper was an only child. She didn’t understand the bond between Elain and her sisters and often alluded to it being weird and co-dependent. Harper wanted Elain to stay in Los Angeles, unaware of how many fashion majors currently existed looking for work. Elain was better off in Chicago, if only because her money went further. She’d already secured an apartment for half of what it cost to live on the outskirts of L.A.

“Yep,” Elain agreed, trying to keep the bite out of her voice. “You’ll have to visit me in Chicago. You’ll love it. It has everything L.A. does—” “Except a beach and year round warm weather,” Harper interrupted. Elain only shrugged. Chicago had Lake Michigan which was, in her estimation, just as good as the Pacific Ocean in some ways but without all the influencers sucking up space to take a million curated photos when Elain wanted to lay out. 

Elain only shrugged. She wasn’t having this argument in the middle of the English countryside. The pair hiked up the relatively small hill at the very back of their tour group. Harper couldn’t help herself when the guide began speaking, pushing to the front to argue. Harper always needed to be the center of attention and for whatever reason, it embarrassed Elain more than usual. It wasn’t just the guide who was annoyed—everyone had paid good money to be there and Harper’s constant outbursts ruined the trip for more than just Elain. 

Stepping off the path, Elain peered out into the distance. Little houses dotted along the countryside, charming against the bright, cloudless sky. Wind whipped around her, making the hunter green grass sway wildly in all directions. She could hear the rustling of leaves a nearby woodland and the fading sounds of children screaming in the distance. They weren’t the only group scattered along the endless stretch of stone wall. It barely came to Elain’s shin, hardly a wall that kept out invaders. Elain could have stepped over it if she wanted and just strolled forward.

She shivered again, the hair on the back of her neck standing on edge. Elain reached a hand to touch the stone when Harper caught her, hand on Elain’s shoulder. It broke whatever spell had settled around Elain. 

“Take my picture?” Harper asked, thrusting her phone into Elain’s hand. “That tour guide is dick, by the way? Did you hear him? He practically told me to shut up.”

“You should let him do his job,” Elain said with a sigh, her heart pounding wildly in her chest. God, what was wrong with her? Elain opened Harper's phone, her guilt washing over her when she saw the cheesy photo of the two of them on Harper’s lockscreen. Elain, in her pink heart shaped sunglasses, tongue out while Harper looked skyward with a wide open grin. Best friends. “It’s not his fault he’s not as smart as you,” Elain added as Harper plunked down on the wall with a smile.

“Damn right,” she agreed. Elain snapped more than a few, zooming in to get some really nice shots. Harper thought it was beneath her and yet since she’d let Elain start editing her pictures, her presence on Instagram had picked up. Elain didn’t have to try so hard—she’d posted a picture of her in a bikini at the age of sixteen and all but gone viral. She could have made a living that way in L.A., but it was practically a cliche. Elain wanted a career she didn’t have to document so hard and a life that wasn’t required to unfold over the internet. She wanted…

“Have you heard from Gray?” Harper asked, leaning over Elain’s shoulder to look at the photos. Elain sighed.

“Yeah. He texted me this morning.”

He’d asked her to marry him and she’d asked to think about it. He’d want an answer when she returned and Elain still didn’t know. She had another month to figure it out and yet Elain was starting to suspect she’d never really know. Graysen wanted to move to Chicago with her, another lawyer in the family with a potential job from none other than Nesta herself. It was so perfect, so easy, so…wrong, though she wasn’t sure why. He was everything—smart, sexy, funny and utterly devoted. When she’d asked him to let her think about it, he’d acted as if that was the outcome he’d been hoping for. He’d still taken her to the nicest dinner she’d ever had, still made love to her later that night…was still waiting on her to make a decision.

“I know you’re thinking it over but…”

But Graysen was a catch and if Elain didn’t want him, someone else would. She knew it. On paper, Graysen was everything, he was the love of her life and yet in person…she couldn’t make some fundamental, unknown thing click. 

“You know, what if you had a fling?” Harper said not for the first time. Elain couldn’t pretend she wasn’t interested. Gray had all but given her permission when she left, telling her he didn’t need to know what she did while she was abroad. There had been the Italian in Rome she’d let take her out for drinks and the Frenchman who’d shown her the Lourve when Harper vanished with a stranger for three days. Elain hadn’t been able to go through with it, had done nothing but a little kissing that made her feel slimy. There was no way Gray was doing the same, not if his texts every day were any indication. 

“Maybe,” Elain agreed, turning back to the wall. Harper wasn’t paying attention, not when the tour guide had begun corralling the group with more information. Elain knew better than to ask for Harper to take a picture and yet all the talk of Graysen made her miss him, strangely. She went to the wall where Harper had sat and perched atop it. One photo for him, she decided, angling the camera so he’d have a nice view of cleavage. She needed to get over herself, she decided, sweeping loose curls from her windblown face. Tell him yes, stop waiting to see if the grass really was greener on the other side. Life wasn’t a fairytale, there was no prince charming coming to sweep her off her feet and tick every single box she possibly had. There was just reality, where you were lucky to get even half the things Gray offered—love, support, good sex…Elain sighed, bracing one hand against the rough, ancient stone. She smiled, finger on the red button. The camera shuttered just as a rough wind slammed into her chest, knocking her off kilter. Elain gasped, feet flying upwards. Her back slammed into the ground beneath her, sending her tumbling down the hill. The tour guide would murder her when he realized she’d been touching the wall—a no no by all accounts.

She dug her nails into the soft countryside, trying to stop her mad tumble downwards before her body hit something hard. She opened her eyes as the breath left her body, leaving her gasping on her hands and knees.

Treetops swayed overhead cheerfully, blocking out some of the buttery sunlight. Elain rubbed her spine, groaning as she stood. She was surrounded on all sides by tress, the thing that had stopped her from her mad tumble downwards. She frowned, spinning in a circle. There had been a little woodland in the distance, far from where she’d stood. Where were rolling hills and little houses? 

“Harper?” Elain called, looking behind her with alarm. There was no way she’d missed that. Elain’s phone had fallen out of her hand, making it impossible to verify with the picture she’d taken. “Harper?!”

There was nothing but the rustling of leaves and a strange, eerie silence. She’d retrace her steps, she decided. Easy enough. Maybe…maybe she hadn’t noticed, she told herself, walking forward. She hadn’t studied her surroundings and yet…and yet she thought she would have noticed a vast expanse of forest out in front of her. Did she hit her head? Was she laying at the bottom of a hill vividly hallucinating a forest that did not exist? 

Each new step made Elain more and more uneasy. She felt watched by the forest itself, tracked by some unknown entity she couldn’t see. She was struggling to convince herself everything was fine, that she’d somehow missed the trees and leaves and underbrush…or that she’d even fallen this far.

She didn’t find her phone. She’d left her bag on her seat on the bus, meaning Elain was, for all purposes, utterly alone. “Harper!” she yelled, her panic mounting. “Where the hell am I?”

A snapping branch stopped her in her tracks. Elain turned slowly, heart pounding in her ears. Please be Harper, or the tour guide or anyone but a murderer—

A being stepped from behind a tree and Elain was convinced, in that moment, she was having some kind of visual hallucination. It wasn’t human…whatever it was, utterly naked and covered in dark black scales. It looked like a snake given a human body, with viciously curved claws and jaundiced eyes. It was not alone, either. Three identical creatures came just behind, all watching her.

It was a nightmare, she decided. She was trapped in a nightmare. Wake up! she commanded her brain, for all the good it did.

“The dark Mother has given us a gift,” one of the snake creatures murmured, its voice dark like oil. Elain gagged at the sound, rooted in place. “A human in our fair woods.”

“She will make a fine meal,” another all but purred. Meal? Elain couldn’t move, her legs no longer moving. It was a classic nightmare scenario and yet it felt so real. The slithered forward and finally her legs seemed to work, turning her of their own accord. Elain took off, ignoring the way every loose rock seemed to lodge itself in her flats to slice against her skin. She could feel the beasts behind her, panting and laughing. She couldn’t die in her dreams and yet Elain couldn’t wake up either.

Something hot sliced over her arm—a talon from the snake with legs. She screamed, startling it for only a moment. All four heads whipped to the side, yellow eyes narrowing. Elain didn’t stop running, taking advantage of their lapse in attention to put some distance between her and the creatures. Where was she going? She couldn’t run like this forever. 

Wake up, wake up, wake up!She came to screeching halt when a massive wolf emerged from the woods, snarling furiously, its gleaming teeth dripping with saliva.

“Oh my god,” she whispered as she crashed back to the ground, her ass hitting rocks and branches roughly. She threw her arms up over her head as the wolf lunged, waiting for ripping flesh. She heard more snarling and then screaming—so much terrible, oily screaming. She looked behind her, twisting as the wolf was joined by men—three, in total, sword in hand. They made easy work of the snake creatures, slicing and ripping until the forest floor was coated in slick, black blood. 

Elain was panting, mouth opened, her mind reeling. Scooting backwards, she drew the attention of one of the men. She was struggling to focus on any one specific thing but she noted the green and gold mask on his face. 

“Is that a human, Tam?” another asked, his face curiously hidden in an orange and gold fox mask. The blonde’s mask wasn’t shaped like anything but his companions wore animals—fox, bear…and some horned thing she didn’t recognize. At his side was that massive gray furred wolf, staring as if he understood everything being said. 

“Don’t…” Elain whispered as the blonde approached, lips drawn in a tight frown. “Don’t come any closer.”

He halted just at her feet, crouching so they were eye level.

“How did you get here, human?”

“Human?” she repeated, unable to catch her breath.

“Tam, she’s gonna pass out,” the bear warned. Elain looked widely around her, eyes unseeing. 

“Human?” she repeated. “I…”

The world teetered violently, blurring and just as the bear had warned, Elain couldn’t keep her eyes open any more. The last thing she saw was a pair of pine green eyes peering down at her, obscured by that strange mask.

Darkness dragged her gratefully into oblivion.

Elain woke with a gasp. Dream, she told herself, looking around at the cheerful bed she lay in, nestled in thick ivory sheets beneath a matching sage trimmed blanket. It had been a terrible dream. It was the stress of everything getting to her, she reasoned, touching her chest, still clad in her dress from before. How had Harper managed to get her to their hotel? And where was Harper? The room was elegant and massive, trimmed in the same ivory and sage as the bed. A little breakfast table sat cheerfully beside a curved window, the curtains pulled open to allow light to pool in. Double doors against the far wall opened to a balcony that seemed to overlook a beautiful garden. She seemed to remember that when she’d been booking rooms, though her and Harper were supposed to share. Perhaps Harper had sprung for two rooms after Elain’s mini break with reality?

Elain pushed back the blankets and rubbed her eyes violently against the heel of her palm. Her feet touched a plush rose rug. No woods, no leaves, no weird snakes. Reality. Her shoes were lined against an armoire and when she opened it, she didn’t find her luggage but an assortment of pretty dresses that were likely for decoration. Elain closed the doors and padded to the bathroom. No shower, though that was hardly unusual. Just a massive claw foot tub, a toilet, and a sink from which she gulped down water. Her face was a mess, streaked with mascara and the concealer she’d dotted beneath her eyes the day before. 

She dug out a lavender scented bar of soap and scrubbed, deciding her skin care routine would allow her this one transgression. Elain slipped her shoes back on her feet and pulled open the door. She frowned in the hall…was this a bed and breakfast, then? She didn’t remember that at all, had thought her and Harper had agreed only to hotels for the added security they offered. There was no keypad on the door, nothing but an ornate knob a key would fit into. Hardly unusual for Europe and yet it gave her pause. 

Black and white marble checkered floors gave way to white trimmed walls decorated with lush paintings and other ornaments. Elain paused to look at one, wishing she knew where her phone was so she could send it to Feyre. It was the sort of thing her sister would have loved. 

Curious, Elain opened a nearby door at the end of the hall before closing it quickly. No one was inside and yet it was very obviously inhabited. It had a similar set up to her own room though the color scheme skewed towards darker, warmer colors—rich burgundys, warm oranges, and dark golds evoked a feeling of Halloween and falling leaves. The little breakfast table she had was covered in knives of varying sizes…strange, she decided. And yet, Elain was an American. People liked weapons, she rationalized. 

She passed more oddities. An unoccupied study with a map of England and Ireland yet labeled Prythian. A library filled with leather bound books that stretched floor to ceiling. A strange sitting room and more bedrooms than any one place could need. Definitely a bed and breakfast, she decided.

Elain came to the top of a sweeping staircase where she heard the sound of voices. A lobby, she breathed with relief, all but running down the steps. She could ask the front desk where Harper was, could get her things and hopefully her phone alongside an explanation.

She came into a great hall that splintered in three directions. The sound of voices were coming behind her, all masculine, all quietly arguing. “Hello?” she called, feeling stupid. She just knew she was going to come upon a group of backpackers who thought she was nothing more than a dumb American looking to cause trouble.

The voices abruptly stopped and Elain sighed. Yep. Definitely backpackers. Footsteps echoed off the walls and Elain followed, cheerful for one last moment. She stepped into the hall and back into her nightmare at the sight of the golden haired man. He’d come from an open door where four other men were watching in the same masks she’d seen in her dream. Elain froze as the blonde, eyes studying her carefully behind the flowery green and gold of his own mask, held up his palms in surrender. He was dressed…he was dressed as if he were in a period film. A blue tunic strapped with a baldric of knives with a long-sleeved, white shirt just beneath covered his chest. Tight, buttoned up breeches and knee high boots evoked an almost medieval feeling. Harper would have known the time period, she thought wildly. 

“Human,” he began, his words filling her with dread. 

“Human?” she replied, eyes drifting to his ears. They were arched like an elfs, not overly large and yet noticeable all the same. “Oh, right. This is some sort of cosplay thing, isn’t it? You’re, what, an elf?”

His eyes narrowed slightly. “Fairy.”

“My bad. Look, I’m trying to find my friend Harper,” she began. “And maybe the front desk. If you just…point me…I’ll be out of your hair.” “Out of my…hair…” he repeated, his words a strange mixture of something her brain didn’t quite recognize. Scandinavian and…Irish, maybe? The man turned to his friends, all watching curiously from the door. They were dressed in varying colors, their hair just as long as their friends shoulder length, their ears all arched. “Did you find another human in the woods?”

“Just her,” the bear replied. There was a masked wolf now, a bear, and the horned beast that made Elain uncomfortable. “No one else.”

“We scoured all night,” one of the wolves added earnestly. 

The blonde turned back to her, eyes accusing. “The front desk?” Elain prompted. The other wolf stumbled forward, his dark hair falling in his eyes. 

“What is a front desk?” he asked her curiously, dragged back to the study behind him by the other masked men. 

“I don’t want any trouble,” Elain murmured, recognizing she was surrounded by five strange men, none of whom seemed to know Harper…and none of whom seemed to belong to a hotel. “I just want to go home.” “Where is home, exactly?” the blonde asked her.

“America,” she said quickly, noting the lack of recognition on their faces. They spoke English well enough…surely they were familiar. “Los Angeles?”

His friends all shook their heads, as if they’d never heard of such a place. Elain sighed. “You know, Hollywood?”

“Never heard of it,” the blonde replied. “But I am unfamiliar with the human lands.” “Oh come on!” she retorted, stamping her foot like a child. “Can’t you break character for one minute?” 

“How did you get here?” the fox asked her. She did a double take when she saw his face and the strange, mechanical eye that peered beside the unusual brown on the other side. The eye whirred, looking her up and down just as his flame-colored eye—and there was no other way to describe that color—and yet was like nothing Elain had ever seen. His face, like everyone else's, was covered from his forehead to the bridge of his nose in an animal shaped mask though it could hardly hide three long scars that cut against his otherwise chiseled cheek. She looked at him the longest, trying to make sense of his eye set against the golden brown of his skin. He merely stared back, his full lips set in a thin line as if he were used to this reaction. 

“I’m on vacation,” she finally told him. 

“Vacation,” the blonde repeated, drawing her attention back to him. He was very clearly the leader. 

“Yes. Surely even Europeans understand that concept?”

“What is a European?” the bear asked eagerly. Oh my God.

“I was at Hadrian’s wall,” she added, noting the flicker of recognition in his eyes. Finally, she thought with relief. They were getting somewhere. So much for the stereotype that American’s were stupid. What is a European? She couldn’t wait to tell Gray about that. 

“You crossed the wall?” 

“I didn’t cross it…I…fell over it,” Elain replied, well aware of how stupid she sounded. They were all stupid, she decided charitably. “It was an accident.”

“You..fell over…the wall?” the blonde repeated in that infuriating way of his. “What were you doing so close to it?”

“Taking a picture!”

“What’s a picture?” the wolf interrupted, eliciting a soft scream of frustration from Elain. 

“Just take me back,” Elain demanded, eyes fixated on the man in front of her. “And I’ll be out of your hair.”

“Tam,” the wolf murmured. “If she finds out…” “I know!” the man called Tam snapped. “How do we know this isn’t a trick? How do we know she didn’t send you?”

“Who is she—you know what, don’t answer that. Take me back to the wall and I’ll hitch a ride back home.”

There was silence for a moment. Tam’s eyes shifted to his friends, as if he could somehow speak silently to them. All five went preternaturally still and then— “You aren’t leaving.” “Excuse me?” Elain replied. 

“You heard me,” he replied. “You’ll stay here until I decide if you’re a threat to me and my lands or not.”

“You…you’re kidnapping me?!” she demanded, noting how his friends shifted uncomfortably. “You can’t do that!”

“I can do whatever I like,” he replied smoothly. “I’m still High Lord—” “High Lord?!” she screeched. “Of what?! The elven forest?! Take me home!”

His friends smothered smiles behind their hands, as if the entire thing amused them. The blonde stalked forward. “I get the sense you, like many other humans, are poorly educated. You violated the treaty when you crossed the wall into our territory and are now subject to our laws. Until I decide you are not a threat, you will enjoy my hospitality.” Elain shoved past him, streaking down the hall for anything that would prove this was some sort of joke. More rooms that belonged to no one and doors that led to a terrace overlooking that garden. She could see the forest and decided Tam, High Lord, could absolutely go fuck himself. She took off in a sprint, deciding she would find it herself. He couldn’t force her to stay. He wasn’t her boss.

She made it to the top of one rolling, grassy hill before his arms wrapped around her waist and hauled her back. Elain scratched and bit and fought, for all he seemed to notice. “You’re not leaving,” he retorted, dumping her back on the terrace inelegantly while his friends all watched with varying degrees of pity. 

“You can’t keep me here!” she screamed at him, scooting back when he crouched to look at her. She hit the fox’s boots, looking up into his curious eyes. 

“You’re wrong, little human. You’re in my territory now—”

“Stop calling me that! Stop calling me human, I have a name—” “What is it, then?” he asked roughly. 

“Elain,” she replied. “Elain Archeron, and my family will be looking for me.”

“I’m sure they are,” he replied softly, his voice very much implying the opposite. “If I catch you trying to escape, I will punish you.”

“Tam,” the fox warned softly. “What if she’s telling the truth?” “What if she’s not?” Tam replied, rising to his feet. “She’s to be watched every minute of every day.”

She looked up at the men, wishing they’d argue. Each head nodded in unison, unwilling to argue with their High Lord. Elain bit back the urge to cry. The wolf replaced Tam, offering her a fair hand. “My name is Bron,” he told her gently, helping Elain to her feet. He pointed to the wolf, “That’s Hart,” the horned monster, “Andras,” and the fox, “And Lucien. We don’t want to hurt you, Lady Elain.”

Lady Elain. “Let me go,” she whispered, noting how still they all went, even with Tam gone.

“Tamlin means well,” Hart murmured, his hair a near exact match for Bron’s brunette locks. Andras was blonde like Tamlin and Lucien the only ginger among them. “He has to think about his whole court. Just…keep your head down and prove you’re not a threat and he’ll take you back.” “No one wants a human here,” Andras added earnestly. 

Elain rubbed her eyes. “Right. Because you’re elves—” “Fae,” Lucien interrupted, more terse than the others. “Not elves.”

“Of course, my apologies,” she bit back, her sarcasm delighting Bron and Hart. She wondered if they were brothers, given how similar they looked.

“You can touch our ears, if you want to see?” Hart offered, stepping towards her and bowing his head. “Maybe that would help?”

Elain reached out her fingers, certain she’d find a prosthetic she could peel off and shove in their lying faces. She yanked, noting how Hart hissed, eyes closed, but didn’t move. She dragged her nails over his skin, looking for a seam or anything that would prove this was an elaborate ruse.

“Oh no,” Bron murmured when she swayed. The world was lurching again. “Catch her—!”

She thought she felt arms around her body but in truth, she could have cracked her skull on the ground for all Elain knew.

The darkness was rapidly becoming bliss.

~*~ 

LUCIEN

Lucien set Elain back in her bedroom just as he’d done the day before. Hart pulled off her shoes, neatly lining them against the wardrobe just in time for Alis to come swanning in.

“What have you idiots done this time?” she demanded from beneath her bird mask, clicking her tongue with disapproval.

“Humans are fragile,” Andras murmured. “She’s confused.” “She doesn’t know what we are,” Bron added with confusion. “I thought humans were better educated.” “Where is America?” Hart asked Alis, who seemed to know things she shouldn’t.

“Some city on the continent is my guess,” Alis replied, pressing the back of her brown hand to Elain’s forehead. “This is someone’s very important daughter. Look at how pretty she is. I don’t want to see one of you chasing after her skirts while she’s here.”

All four of them shuffled their feet, suddenly embarrassed. It was impossible not to notice how stunning she was. Lucien had always been told humans were strange, ugly creatures. He’d seen one fifty years before and that had been true. The girl was nothing like Elain, who was clean and well groomed. A fancy human lord's daughter, no doubt, which meant she probably would be missed.

“She says she came over the wall,” Andras told Alis, blue eyes searching the maids face for any explanation. “You don’t think she has something to do with it?”

The name they were forbidden from saying aloud hung in the air. Amarantha. Lucien could scarcely think it without wanting to throw up. They had a little over a year left to break the curse and yet Elain hardly fit the conditions. For one, she didn’t seem to hate faeries. She didn’t know what they were, if her suspicion over elves was any indication. It seemed too convenient that she showed up the day Andras had intended to cross the wall, baiting a human woman into killing him. Lucien felt only relief that, at least for the moment, none of them would be forced to make that trip. He didn’t want to see any of his friends die, not for Amarantha. 

“Dragged is more like it,” Alis finally said, really studying Elain. “I know Lord Tamlin means well but surely he can’t think this little slip is anything but a pawn.”

“Or a distraction,” Lucien replied. “Her mind could have been tampered with.”

They all peered back at Elain’s pretty, peaceful face. Rhysand was helping Amarantha, after all. It would be just like him to break into a human’s mind, wipe away anything useful, and send her to mess with Tamlin.

“Well,” Alis murmured, some of her fire extinguished. “Who knows what she suffered, then. I think a little kindness couldn’t hurt.”

“What if she is the one, though?” Bron finally asked, giving voice to what they all secretly hoped. “Maybe she should stay.” “She’s off to a rocky start,” Hart replied. “Tam hardly did himself any favors.” Alis brushed Elain’s cheek lovingly the way a mother might touch a child. Elain didn’t stirl, her petal pink lips drawn in a frown. “There’s time still,” she murmured. “Something strange is afoot. I can feel it stirring.”

So could Lucien. Something pulled at him, a strange, wild magic he hadn’t felt in centuries. He knew they all felt it, given the silence that settled over them. “We should leave her,” Lucien finally offered. It was off, having four grown men standing over a sleeping woman. “I’ll talk to Tam.” They nodded, leaving Alis to Elain as they scattered to the wind. Andras, Bron, and Hart had posts they rotated through. Amarantha’s filth still poured over their borders, pushed back only by Tamlin’s guards and sentries, the last remaining free forces in Prythian. And Elain…Elain might break the curse,  fully freeing them after half a century of torment. Lucien could practically feel the wind on his face again. Free to roam, to revel, to get back to the life he’d all but paused when Amarantha invaded. 

Tamlin sat in his study upstairs, head in his hands. “What are you thinking?” Lucien asked, dropping into a leather chair on the opposite side of his messy desk. 

Tamlin looked up at Lucien, his closest friend over the last hundred years. Tamlin ran a hand over his mouth, eyes wild. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “If it’s Amarantha…fuck,” he swore. “If she’s wasting our time it’s all over but if she’s not…if she’s not, maybe this is the girl we’ve been looking for.”

“Tell me what you want us to do. You know we’ll follow you anywhere,” Lucien said earnestly, scooting to the edge of the chair. “Do you want us to continue going over the wall?” “No,” Tamlin breathed. “No, not if she’s watching us. I…we’ll give Elain a couple months to feel her out.”

“And if this is Rhysand holding her mind?” Lucien prompted, needing his friend to hear that possibility. Claws poked beneath Tamlin’s knuckles, digging into the wood of his desk. 

“She wouldn’t even know,” Tamlin growled. “It feels wrong to leave her to Rhysand’s form of mercy…if she turns out to be a puppet, we’ll send her back over the wall.”

Lucien nodded. “He won’t be able to resist taunting you. We’ll know soon enough.” “You’ll keep watch over her?” Tamlin asked. “Just for the first month while she gets acclimated? Become her friend.”

“Me? Friends with a human?” he scoffed. “Why not Bron or Hart? They like her well enough.” “I don’t trust them the way I trust you,” Tamlin replied. “They won’t know how to talk to her without saying too much. I want to know everything about her and I want her to know nothing Rhysand couldn’t guess.”

“Alright,” Lucien agreed smoothly, though the thought bothered him. “And how will you court her, if you spend the first month keeping your distance?”

Tamlin sighed heavily. “I don’t know. That’s for me to worry about. For now, no more running away. Lets focus on keeping her contained to the estate before we starting thinking about romance.”

“Fair enough,” Lucien agreed with a heavy sigh. He stood, leaving Tamlin to the study to brood. Lucien closed the door just in time to hear the ravages of Tamlin’s rage. Splintering wood and groaning furniture splintered the quiet around them. Lucien winced, noting how several servants turned in the opposite direction lest they be caught in the path of the High Lord’s rage. Tamlin had always had a temper though it had gotten worse over the years since Amarantha. It was his helplessness, Lucien told himself. Tamlin was a warrior, was High Lord and now was prone to the whims of a foreign general bent on dominating them. 

Still, Lucien didn’t think Elain would find his outbursts charming. Tamlin would need to figure that out, along with everything else on his mind. Courting a woman was above, among other things, proving you were the sort of male who could protect her physically and emotionally. Lucien knew Tamlin was more than capable of guarding his female but attending to her feelings? He doubted Tamlin could attend to his own.

Lucien took his usual patrol, giving himself time to mull it over. It was a mistake. When he returned, Elain was awake again, still wearing her strange, short dress that showed off her slim calves and pretty thighs. Her arms were bare, her skin tanned gently, her hair tumbling down her back and pulled curiously from her face with a large, golden butterfly clip. She drummed pink painted nails over one of the rounded tables while Hart eagerly asked her questions.

“It’s hard to explain,” Elain was saying, unaware he was watching from the doorway. Stunning was really the wrong word for her. Beautiful, gorgeous, ethereal…if Amarantha had chosen her, she’d clearly picked her for her looks. Elain had wide, soft brown eyes framed with the darkest, thickest lashes he’d ever seem. She had a sweet, heart shaped face and pouty lips…enticing. That’s what she was. Any male would be tempted and Hart was certainly no exception.  

“I suppose it’s like a painting but you capture it in the moment and not with a brush.”

“Magic, I see. Why didn’t you say so?” he grinned, unsheathing claws from beneath his knuckles. Elain stared, face paling. 

“How…”

“Hart!” Lucien snapped. Hart rose from the iron chair quickly, eyes wide. Elain twisted to look at him, staring at his scarred face once again. He sighed, wishing it didn’t bother him so much. 

“Apologies,” Hart mumbled. “She’s just…she knows things I’ve never heard of.”

“Go on,” Lucien murmured, stepping to the side so Hart could pass him. “I’ll take it from here.”

She said nothing when he approached, replacing Hart in the exact same chair, his ankle crossed over his knee.

“Lucien, right?” she asked. He shuddered involuntarily at the sound his name on her lips. Had it really been so long since he’d spoken to a female that she could evoke such a response? Lucien frowned.

“Yes.” “You’re the defacto leader, then?” she guessed shrewdly. “Right hand to the High Lord?”Smart, he thought. “What makes you think that?”

“Hart jumped up fast enough when he saw you. They’re always looking between the two of you,” she added. “What is it that you do, exactly?” “Are you asking for my title?”

She sighed. “Why not?”

“I’m Lucien Vanserra, seventh born son to the High Lord of Autumn and Emissary of Spring.”

“Emissary of Spring,” she repeated tonelessly. “Of course. This is Spring, then?”

“You truly don’t know?” he probed. “No one prepared you?” “Look, I’m starting to think I fell through some kind of hole in the world and ended up here. I gather you have humans but do you know what a car is? Or a cell phone?” 

He stared blankly. Those words meant nothing to him. Elain laughed humorlessly. “Or I’m still dreaming,” she added. “I might be in a coma somewhere and this is just a very vivid, drug induced dream.”

“But you came from the wall,” Lucien prompted. “Which you shouldn’t have done.”

“Hadrians wall,” she emphasized. “It’s two thousand years old, it’s a relic and it separates nothing. I could have stepped over it. Where I’m from, we look at it with wonder—” “Is it a border wall?” Lucien asked her, suddenly curious. Elain nodded.

“There are garrisons nearby…my friend is really interested in history. We must have looked at a hundred old Roman forts.”

Only some of those words made sense to Lucien and still he leaned forward, suddenly burning with curiosity. “And what about you? You don’t like history?”

“I studied fashion,” Elain replied, eyes flicking over his silver tunic as if she were trying to answer a question in her mind. “I have a job lined up back home in a museum—” “I didn’t know humans allowed their females to work,” he interrupted. “When did that happen?”

Elain frowned. “The sixties?”

Lucien didn’t know what that meant though he nodded as if he did. “Ah. So…you have a life, I take it?”

“People will be looking for me,” she told him, her voice suddenly desperate. “Just let me go, I swear I won’t say anything.”

What could the humans do, he wondered? Did she imagine they might cross the wall and hunt them down? Humans were nervous things more likely to wet themselves than to fight the fae. The fact that Elain kept passing out was proof enough. She wrapped her arms around her body, pushing her breasts upwards and Lucien had to look away before she noticed he was all but ogling her. 

“I wish I could,” he offered. “When Tamlin gives the word, I’ll walk you over myself, but until then…” Elain looked up at the dusky sky above them, heaving a rough, frustrated sigh. “If I don’t get home by August, I’ll lose that job. I’ll…there are things waiting on me.”

“A male?”

“A—what? A man? Yes, I…my boyfriend,” she began, though that word didn’t register to him, either. Lucien arched a brow and Elain emitted another sound of frustration. “A…I don’t know? What word do you use for someone you’re seeing before you decide to marry them?” “Betrothed?” Lucien supplied. Elain rolled her eyes.

“He asked,” she admitted. “Why am I even telling you this?”

Lucien shrugged, still fascinated by her. “He asked and you said no, I take it?”

“I said I needed to think about it,” Elain replied. “If I don’t go home, he’ll…”

“Move on,” Lucien finished, unsure why that thought pleased him. “Although maybe he should anyway, if you don’t even know if you want to marry him.”

“Oh, what do you know?” Elain snapped, rising from her chair. “I’m not taking advice from men who kidnap women.”

“We aren’t men!” Lucien called after her retreating back. He meant to explain the fae were not human but something different, something other. More animal than anything, beasts parading about with human faces. Elain turned, her eyes wide with not fear, but a strange understanding. As if she saw what shimmered just beneath his skin.

“Monsters, then,” she murmured, daring him to deny it. Lucien grinned, letting her see sharp teeth. Elain blanched, the scent of her unease coating the air around them. Lucien let her go, deeply unsettled in a way he couldn’t quite put his finger on. 

Monsters, indeed. 

~*~

Elain had hoped, when she woke again, she’d be in a hospital. It was a strange thing to wish for and yet it was better than the alternative. A light rain and soft, rumbling thunder chased her from sleep just in time for a small woman to breeze into the room and pull apart the curtains. “Good morning,” she chirped, her voice a match for the vibrant blue and green bird mask covering her face.

“Why do you wear those masks?” Elain asked, rubbing her eyes as she sat up.

“It’s a curse,” the servant replied breezily. “Ask the High Lord if you wish to know more.”

“I’d rather choose my own mask than talk to him. Do I get to choose my woodland creature? Or is it assigned to me?”

The servant clicked her tongue against her teeth before shooing Elain into the tub. “Can I take a shower, at least?” Elain asked the servant—Alis, she’d said—when the woman stepped back in with a large, fluffy towel.

“A bath is just fine,” Alis replied, unfurling the towel. Elain didn’t miss the way her eyes slid over her body with gleaming approval. “They feed you well.” “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that,” Elain murmured self-consciously.

“Most humans are starving, filthy things,” Alis explained, shoving Elain into a vanity chair so she could fuss over her appearance. “But you’re clean, you’re well-fed and lovely…well cared for by your lord back home?”

“Men don’t take care of us back home,” Elain replied, so exhausted by this unending assumption that women were owned by men. She was starting to wonder not where she was, but when she was. “We take care of ourselves.” “Of course,” Alis replied, as if that were somehow both a given while placating her. “As all females do.” Elain ground her teeth. “Women.”

“Not here,” was Alis replied as she gathered up Elain’s wet hair. Elain blinked without thinking, staring in the rounded mirror. One moment Alis held her mass of wet curls and the next they were dried and falling loosely around her face. “How…” “Magic,” was all Alis said, her impatience silencing Elain. Hart had said as much yesterday, hadn’t he? Like magic. 

Alis put Elain in a soft lilac dress with off shoulder sleeves. It fell to the floor and would have been more appropriate at an incredibly nice gala back home. It was par the course here, she supposed. She did look pretty, she thought, as she ran her hands over the tight bodice curved against her flat stomach. The skirt twirled in the wind, the neckline cut to show the barely hint of her breasts. She’d let Alis twist little strands of her hair off her face, pinning them back with flower shaped pins before weaving little flowers into the strands. If ever Elain felt like a woodland princess, it was in that moment.

She noted the delicate slippers Alis provided her. Hardly useful for running through the woods, though Elain had a different plan. There were no cars but perhaps, she hoped, horses. Elain had been a horse girl growing up, spending every summer before high school bouncing between horse camp and cheer practice. Only in high school had she given up her love of horses to focus on cheerleading. She needed a scholarship and cheerleading was more lucrative than horseback riding. Still, Elain was certain if she could get on a horse, she could make her way back to he wall before one of those men caught her.

She’d have to employ a little charm. That was easy enough at the breakfast table. Hart and Bron were lingering over a basket of muffins, talking about the border and a couple females they were interested in. Both fell silent when Elain walked in, eyes roaming her body. She pretended she didn’t notice as she took a seat.

“That’s my chair,” Lucien Vanserra informed her as he breezed in. She sighed, walking around the table to sit across from him. Hart and Bron slid from the room, forcing her to work a little magic on the emissary who very obviously didn’t trust her. 

“Did you sleep well?” he asked, watching her scoop fruit on her plate. 

“Well enough,” she replied pleasantly. “And you?”

“Always do,” he replied with that shit eating grin. Elain thought he was handsome beneath the mask, though she couldn’t pinpoint why she thought that. He reminded her of some of the fraternity brothers she’d known. They had a certain way they moved, a way of walking through the world when they were good looking that was just different. A swagger, she supposed. Lucien had it, too. He wasn’t hunching and brooding like the blonde High Lord—Tamlin, she reminded herself. Lucien oozed confidence. How fun, she decided, to get one over on him. 

“Am I allowed to spend time by myself today, or will you be accompanying me?”

“I think you know the answer to that,” Lucien replied easily. “Big plans?”

She speared a piece of melon angrily. “I want to go riding.”

“Humans can ride horses?”

She looked up at him, trying to smother her hatred. He propped his hand on his chin, eyes wide and waiting.

“We’re not as simple as you think. What’s the difference between us…besides those ears of yours?”

Lucien reclined in his chair, smirk dancing over his lips. “Well, for once, you’re what…nineteen?” Elain choked. “Twenty two.”

“You look so young to me,” he replied, though he couldn’t have been more than twenty five. “Tam is over five hundred years old.”

Elain choked, spitting her fruit back on her plate. “What?” she gasped. “And you, too?” “Nah,” Lucien replied easily. “Barely over two hundred.” Elain forced herself to breathe. “So you’re immortal.”

“We die,” he argued. “It just takes a long time.”

“Okay. So you’re old and humans are not, is there anything else?”

Lucien raised a broad, strong hand, pressing his thumb and pointer finger together as if he might snap. Flame erupted over his skin, licking harmlessly. Elain was too fascinated by that. “Magic.”

“Yes, Elain. Magic.”

“Anything else?” she breathed, taking a bite of egg as he extinguished the fire. 

“I suppose we fae are more beast than the civilized creatures you hail from,” he replied in a bored tone. “Humans have suppressed the instincts that still govern us.” Whatever that meant. Elain knew better than to ask, well aware she didn’t want to know what instincts he might be referring to. She’d heard enough men with podcasts to know what they thought of the biological urges of men and women. Perhaps Lucien was the magical equivalent of that and was about to inform her about her smaller brain and inability to make logical decisions…and why men ought to be allowed to fuck anything they liked while women should remain pure and chaste. 

“You never answered about going for a ride,” Elain reminded him, cutting through the lasping silence. 

“Fine,” he agreed. Elain rose from her chair, making a big show of smoothing out her skirt while he watched. If he subscribed to rigid gender roles, let him think her somehow lesser because of the dress she wore. That only served her. She just needed to get to the wall, she reminded herself. She didn’t know how to get back but assumed being near it might be enough. She could climb it, touch it, tumble over it, whatever was necessary to free her of this place.

The stables were far grander than anything Elain had ever seen, set against the palatial estate on the opposite side of the garden. Two horses were already saddles and Elain, who had only seen Alis, wondered if there were more hidden servants that did the bidding of the house or if Lucien’s magic extended to saddling and bridling horses, too.

He gestured towards a pretty gray mare, turning to his own white beast without sparing her a second look. Elain was quick, sliding her foot into the stirrup, swinging her leg into the saddle, and taking off with a quick squeeze of her heels.

“Cauldron boil me!” Lucien exploded from behind her, whatever that meant. She didn’t dare turn to look as they shot out of the polished wooden stables. A lilac scented wind whipped through her hair, sending cool drops of rain blasting like knives over her skin. Overhead, the sky rumbled dangerously, threatening to spill all over again. She didn’t care as she raced over the hills towards the tree line. Lucien was just behind her, his own horse gaining ground. Elain all but flattened herself against her horse in an attempt to make them lighter, faster than the beast carrying his muscular, heavy frame.

She made it just to the edge of the woods before his slammed roughly into her body, dragging her to the ground in a tangle of limbs. Elain kicked and hit and slapped, surprised by how truly solid he was. Lucien, winded and furious, pinned her wrists to the ground, thighs tight around her hips. 

“That was tricky,” he snarled furiously. 

“Let me go!” she screamed, bucking wildly against him, trying desperately to free herself. He didn’t budge, his grip bruisingly tight against her skin. 

“I could have been your friend,” he told her, looking around with that strange pair of eyes.

“Liar!” she replied, some of her desperation leaking into tears. “You’re my captor. Let me go, please, just let me go.”

“Get up,” he ordered, releasing her arms. Elain surged forward and slapped him as hard as she could right across the face. Lucien still straddled her lap, still had her lower body pinned beneath him. His eyes went wide, his skin reddening from her hand. Elain didn’t care if it made him mad. She went to hit him again and faster than her eyes could track, Lucien caught her wrist again, holding it inches from his jaw.

“Don’t do that again,” he warned her. “I hate you,” she spat, trembling as she realized how close they were. She wrenched her wrist from his grasp, trying to escape his hold on the rest of her. Lucien merely hauled her up by her waist, draping her over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Elain screamed with rage, overwhelmed with how helpless she felt. He didn’t react to her beating fists against his spine as he walked her back, the horses trailing just behind. 

Tamlin was waiting on the front steps when Lucien brought her up. He dropped her at the High Lords feet, his face twisting in a grimace. 

“Go upstairs,” Tamlin ordered.

Elain opened her mouth to argue but Lucien’s eyes cut to her, widening ever so slightly in warning. The shake of his head was nearly imperceptible and yet the warning clear. Go. 

She did, slipping past Tamlin, tears streaming down her face. Just inside, Bron, Hart, and Andras all watched with sympathetic gazes.  

Elain slammed the door just in time to hear something shatter violently against a wall. She squeezed her eyes shut and slid against the wood, knees drawn to her chest.

Strangely sorry for the havoc she’d just caused.

~*~

“You’re supposed to be watching her!” Tamlin roared over the shattered chair in his study. Lucien didn’t dare flinch, didn’t dare betray an ounce of fear. “I didn’t realize humans could ride horses like that,” he replied by way of explanation. Another chair just beside him exploded in a cloud of splintering wood and leather. A shard sliced against his bare forearm, drawing a line of blood. Tamlin paused when he realized he’d injured Lucien, collapsing behind his desk.

There was no apology—there never was. Merely is deflating rage when he realized he’d taken things too far. “She’s scared,” Lucien began, careful not to upset Tamlin again. It was a delicate balance of standing on eggshells, trying to make his High Lord and friend understand without sending him in a rage. “She wants to go home.”

“This is her home,” Tamlin replied furiously, his green eyes edged with violence. “You’re supposed to be making her understand that.” “It’s been one day,” Lucien reminded Tamlin. “I thought a ride might assure her I wasn’t going to eat her…I didn’t expect her to take off. She barely left the grounds.”

“If she slips past you again…” Tamlin let the threat hang in the air. It was hardly empty. Lucien knew well enough what methods Tamlin might employ should Lucien fail again. “If you have to tie her to a chair during the day, do it. She is not to go any further than the garden. I want someone shadowing her day and night.”

“Should I sleep in her bed, too?” Lucien asked without thinking, his bitterness rising to the surface. Tamlin’s lip curled over his teeth, claws sliding from beneath his knuckles. “You’re supposed to be courting her—” “Get. Out.” Tamlin ordered. Lucien strode from the room angrily. It wasn’t even noon and already Tamlin was holed up in his study, more furniture ruined and nothing decided or accomplished. They had a human woman among them, the very thing required to break their curse and yet Tamlin didn’t want to look at her. Lucien knew the longer Tamlin waited the less likely Elain was to trust him. 

He walked past her door for his own bedroom, halting when it cracked open and those brown eyes peered out. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, eyes glancing at his arm. Elain opened the door a little further, eyes swollen from her tears, nose bright pink. She was an absurd sight and yet he didn’t move when she reached for his forearm. “You’re bleeding.”

“It’ll heal right up,” he replied, inclining his head so he could study her watch his skin knit itself back together. 

“More magic?”

“More magic,” he agreed. There was a beat of silence between them before she released him, arms dropping to her side.

“I’m sorry, too,” he added, noting how bruises had already begun to bloom over her delicate wrists. “I…”

“I still hate you,” she rushed to assure him, her words punctuated by a burst of thunder just outside. “I didn’t want you to get hurt…”

Lucien couldn’t help but boop her on the nose. “Don’t be silly.”

She nodded, inching back for her bedroom door. Someone had to make inroads with this woman. Lucien gritted his teeth and took a breath. “Elain?”

She halted, peeking through the crack again. “Yes?” “Perhaps tomorrow you’ll indulge me in a walk around the garden? You can explain your world to me,” he asked. She’d need a friend, he decided. Bron and Hart were naturals when it came to charming people but perhaps if he, too, could get her to drop her guard, he could plant the seeds Tamlin would need to make something grow. Let her see Tamlin through their eyes…let her break this curse they were all trapped in. “I want to know what a car is.”

She almost smiled. “Okay.”

Lucien left her behind that door, grateful to escape her. He found Bron, Hart, and Andras waiting in the downstairs study with a glass of whiskey. Lucien swallowed it like a shot.

“I know Tam is mad—and he should be,” Hart began hastily, catching the murderous frustration on Lucien’s face, “But she was…something on that horse.”

Lucien didn’t want to picture it and yet the sight of her in that long dress, hair streaming behind her, had stirred something better left untouched in his gut. Pinning her to the ground had been both obscene and uncomfortable. Elain hated him and any arousal he’d felt was both a betrayal of Tamlin and Elain herself. He nodded, earning chuckles from his friends. 

“Keep her away from knives,” Andras joked. “Or she’ll gut us all in her sleep.”

“We need to keep her better occupied,” Lucien said, sinking into one of the leather chairs by the hearth. Hart remained in front of the fireplace while Andras and Bron took the others, all centered around a cozy blue and green rug. 

“What do we know about entertaining females?” Hart asked after a moment, his fair cheeks turning rosy. They all chuckled again before Lucien frowned.

“How hard could it be? Surely we can dig out some sewing needles and…books?”

“Yes,” Hart agreed. “My mother loved to sew.”

“And there is the garden,” Andras added helpfully, running a hand through his blonde hair. “Ladies love to sit and contemplate among the flowers.”

They all murmured their agreement. “And Lord Tamlin?” Bron dared to ask Lucien, so clearly hopeful. “How will he be entertaining Lady Elain?”

Lucien’s sigh was heavy, both externally but against his chest, too. “He will figure it out with time. We can soften her opinion of us while we wait.” But Lucien knew they were all thinking the same. There was so little time to begin with and Elain was so determined to escape. Her little stunt on the horse had all but convinced him she wasn’t one of Rhysand’s little toys. Compliance and blind obedience would have made more sense. It made Lucien uneasy…what if she really didn’t belong? What would be the consequences of keeping her? 

Still, Lucien woke up the next morning with a knot in his stomach made all the worse but Elain and Bron on the terrace. He had to do a double-take when he saw her as she was in a pair of too-big breeches held up with suspenders and a white shirt she’d tied around her waist. Her hair was pulled up in a bun though little wisps framed her face. Elain was on all fours, legs outstretched as she moved fluidly through what seemed to be stretches. Bron was giving it a go with her though it was clear he did not find the same peace she had.

“It’s called downward facing dog,” Elain was explaining when Lucien strode out, accusation written all over his face. “We’ll move into—” “What is going on?” he demanded. Bron immediately straightened, sheepish and perhaps embarrassed, if only a little.

“Lady Elain–” “Just Elain is fine,” Elain interrupted, head tilted towards the sky.

“Was showing me her morning exercise.”

“Was she?” Lucien asked, immediately suspicious. Elain threw a dirty look in his direction before offering a saccharine smile.

“Would you like to join, Lord Vanserra?”

“I prefer a different sort of workout,” he grumbled, thinking of a sword in his hand. Elain merely turned back to the hedges she faced with a smug little smile. 

“Suit yourself.”

“Should I ah…” 

Lucien shrugged. What did it hurt to let Bron join in? At least someone was watching her, he rationalized as he walked off. It bought him time to do as he liked, which was menial tasks he was responsible for. Lucien answered correspondence and went into the village, where word of the human had spread.

“Is it true?” Tullenne asked him when he stopped by to pick up a wide assortment of clothing Alis had put a rush order on. He had his own things mingled among the dresses and night clothes for Elain that he wanted to see personally…as well as Tullenne herself. She’d taken the stop over from her mother a few years back despite being young and beautiful. Lucien could appreciate her fine, golden hair and the cerulean of her eyes, even if they were hidden behind a jeweled cat mask. “Lord Tamlin found a human?”

“Don’t be spreading those sorts of rumors,” Lucien chided with an easy smile, leaning casually in the door. Her eyes swept over his body with appreciation, hands resting on a long table between them that held all the garments in nice, cloth bags.

“But between us?” she questioned, stepping around the table to walk to him. “I miss seeing your face…touching your face,” she added, knuckles brushing over his cheek. Lucien leaned into the touch, eyes fluttering shut despite himself. He missed that feeling, too. He was tired of the endless scrape of fabric and metal against his face, of seeing it from the corner of his eye. 

Tullenne’s lips brushed his own and Lucien, suddenly frantic with need to be touched, grabbed her. It wasn’t polite or soft or sweet. He swept the clothes off the table behind her, hauling her against the furniture so he could bury his face between her thighs, frustrated and angry he couldn’t fully feel her, not with that fucking mask.

“Turn around,” he begged when the lack of stimulation became too much. Dress flipped over her head and cock pulled from his otherwise well-situated pants, Lucien drove into Tullenne’s body. He couldn’t see her face, couldn’t see her hair, just the swell of her ass and the way her cunt gripped his own. Lucien closed his eyes, head lolled between his shoulder blades. Good, it was good, it was—Lord Vanserra. 

Elain’s angry eyes floated through his mind, her writing body pinned between his own suddenly the only thing Lucien could think of. He could feel her wildly bucking hips, the strain of her wrists in his palms, the scent of her salty skin burning in his nostrils. 

Lucien didn’t mean to come to that fantasy—Elain, writhing beneath him in a different way, a more appreciative touch, her mouth sliding over his skin, her cunt gripping his cock. Lucien was only vaguely aware that Tullenne came at all when he slid himself out. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“That was good,” she whispered, propping herself up on the desk to kiss his mouth. Lucien stared at nothing at all as he considered the possibility that he was the monster Elain had accused him of being. She was nothing, just a warm body and a new face. They were all intrigued by her. It was a physical reaction, he told himself.

Nothing more. 

~*~

Elain sat on the wooden fence of the training ring, egging Bron and Hart on. She liked the two of them, who were not brothers despite their similar features, but merely very, very close friends. They’d spent the afternoon bragging of their time in a warband, teasing and jesting and rough housing until she asked for a demonstration. She was bored, restless even. She’d slept badly, body bruised by Lucien’s assault from the day before and anxious about remaining indefinitely in this place. It wasn’t a different time…Elain wasn’t even sure it was the same world. 

She couldn’t poke through the library, though, looking for answers as Tamlin or Lucien had decided she needed to be watched every moment of the day. Case and point—Bron and Hart were sparring with a graceful sort of violence as Lucien strode towards them in the distance, hands jammed in his pockets. No respite, she thought with a sigh, turning her back to the emissary. She much preferred Bron and Hart to Lucien.

“What are you doing?” he asked suspiciously when he reached her.

“Learning to sword fight via osmosis,” she replied, noting the way his mouth flattened into a hard line. 

“No sword fighting,” he said, as if Elain could ever become good enough to match the likes of Bron or Hart. Still, he’d pushed her off a horse the day before and though she felt a little badly that Tamlin had punished him over it, Elain wanted to needle at him. Her words were all she had.

“Worried I might beat you?”

Lucien stared for a moment, his expression hard to gauge beneath the mask. “Aw, don’t send him in here,” Hart complained when Lucien, ignoring the swinging gate, swung his long, muscular body over the fence. 

“Male pride is something else,” she teased when Bron and Hart played rock paper scissors for the honor of fighting the emissary. Lucien didn’t acknowledge her as he removed his fine, silver tunic and pulled his long hair off his face. “Where I’m from, politicians are soft.”

Hart, who had lost the game, came to join Elain on the other side of the fence. He leaned his body against the wood, elbows almost touching her legs. “Lucien’s not a politician,” Hart told her as Bron and Lucien squared off. “He’s from Autumn Court.” “I have no idea what that means.”

“You’ll see,” was all Hart said. 

And see Elain did. Lucien was vicious, a creature movies could never capture and books could only have dreamt of. He scared her enough that Hart hesitantly put his hand on her knee, saying, “He won’t kill Bron.”

That did little to settle the unease growing in her chest. He’d shown her literal fire the day before, had all but proven, with his little comment on their ages, that this was not the fifteenth century or some equally other brutal time period. It was other, something she didn’t know she could escape from. Even if she could, how would she ever get past the man swinging a sword like he’d been born to wield it? It wasn’t even his job. His title was emissary, which begged the question—were there others who were better? 

Elain was grateful when Lucien finished, the tip of his blade pressed to Bron’s unarmed throat. Sweat dripped from his face and pooled against the white fabric of his shirt, making it cling against his sculpted chest. He turned to look at her with blazing defiance, as if to say I tried to warn you. 

She couldn’t meet his gaze. Elain dropped her eyes to her hands, hopping off the fence with the help of Hart. “How old are you?” she asked. He winced.

“Why do you ask?” “A hundred?”

His face didn’t change. She felt like she was trapped in a bad Twilight movie. “Two hundred?” “Close,” he muttered. “It’s not important, Lady Elain. Why don’t we—” “Inside,” Lucien interrupted, wiping the little bit of his face not covered in a mask with his shirt. She drank in the toned, bronze skin before shaking her head. “I need a drink and you two need to go to the border.”

“Is he okay?” Elain asked as Lucien strode off, expecting she would just follow after him. She hated that she did, hated how her eyes kept bouncing from his face to the sword slung over his shoulder.

“His ego is bruised but his body is fine,” Lucien dismissed. “Do you still think you could beat me?” Elain froze in place. “I will get out of here. One way or another, even with you tailing me day and night. You’ll get complacent and I’ll slip right past you.”

Lucien smiled. “Oh, how I hope you try. Yesterday was the most fun I’ve had in ages.”

Elain swallowed the wave of anxiety that rose through her. It hadn’t been fun for her. None of this was fun. She was miserable, coming out of her skin and just barely keeping it together. No amount of yoga on the terrace or pestering Bron and Hart could fix that. She opened her mouth to beg him again but Lucien inclined his head, shaking slightly. “I can’t,” he said dully. 

“So what? How long can you possibly keep me here for?” Elain asked desperately, turning in a circle to survey the grassy grounds around her. “I won’t live thousands of years, I’ll be lucky to get sixty more!” Lucien scrubbed a hand over his mouth. “I don’t make the decisions—” “But you enforce them!” Elain shrieked, grabbing his arm before he could pull away and shoving up his sleeve. No cut, no wound, nothing that proved he’d been injured at all. She stared for a moment, her mind desperately trying to make sense of it all. She took a wobbly step back and Lucien lunged, catching her before her legs collapsed beneath her.

“Don’t pass out,” he pleaded, carrying her in his arms with ease. Elain turned her head away from him, the heat of his body evoking a sense of nausea. “I’m going to throw up,” she whispered, grateful when he set her on solid ground. Elain just laid, cheek against the cool grass, until the urge passed. Lucien joined her, sitting cross legged a good three feet away, just in case. 

“Tell me about your home,” he murmured after a moment. Elain couldn’t face him. “What do you miss the most?”

My family. My boyfriend. A stand-up shower. “Tequila,” she told him dully. It wasn’t true but it also wasn’t vulnerable, either. He might use whatever she said against her, might somehow weaponize her family to keep her from trying anything else.

“What is tequila?” he asked after a moment. Elain turned her head. He was too still, too expressionless though his voice was curious.

“Alcohol.” “We have alcohol,” Lucien shared. “Do you want some?”

It was that question that found Elain alone in the study with Lucien as he offered her a selection of whiskey and other liquor she’d never heard of. He asked her to stay away from the wine, stating it was too potent for humans and Elain didn’t bother asking what, exactly made it so. She merely accepted a glass of whiskey in a nice, heavy glass, curled in a chair opposite her captor. 

“What does tequila taste like?” he asked, taking a sip of his matching drink.

“Honestly? It burns all the way down. I’ve never liked the taste.”

He frowned. “Then why drink it at all?”

“It feels good,” she told him. “Like oblivion, like you’re nothing at all.”

“Why would you ever want that?” he questioned, his voice edged. Elain took a drink, wrinkling her nose against the taste.

“You never have bad moments, Lucien?”

He considered that for a moment. “I do.”

“How very human of you,” she replied, unable to resist that little jab. Lucien smiled and Elain thought he was lovely that way—unguarded, at ease. Lucien exhaled a soft breath.

“I know what it's like not to be able to go home,” he finally told her, unable to meet her eyes. He swirled his drink in his hands, fingers pressed so tight to the glass she thought he might shatter it. “To want to and…” “So I’m here forever?” she asked him, her desperation catching in her throat. Lucien took another drink.

“For now.”Elain couldn’t help the bite of tears stinging against her eyes. Lucien saw it too when he looked at her, sympathy filling his expression. “I didn’t mean to come here,” she whispered. “I just want to go home.”

She would have preferred his mocking to whatever he was offering her now. His understanding told her he knew she wasn’t going home in the next few days. Maybe years. He knew things that Elain did not by virtue of living here and being employed by the High Lord. “Help me,” Elain entreated. 

“I am,” he replied, as if pulling her off a moving horse had been helpful at all. “You’re still roaming, are you not? I will do what I can, but…” “Make a deal with me?” she asked. Lucien went ramrod straight. 

“You’d make a deal with me?”

“Should…should I not? I don’t know the rules.” “Deals are bound by magic. They can’t be broken.”

Of course. A legally bound contract but worse. Elain thought Nesta would have a field day with that. 

“Tell me your terms,” Lucien coaxed, as if curious what she was thinking. Elain used her thumb to wipe her nose. “Absolutely honesty,” she whispered, well aware honesty was subjective.

“And in exchange, I get…?” “A month of cooperation,” she replied softly. Lucien considered this before offering her his hand.

“I’ll agree to that. One month of absolute honesty in exchange for our shared cooperation.”

Elain hesitated. “My honesty?”

“Keep your secrets,” Lucien murmured after a moment. “I trust you to want to tell me some day.” Elain clasped his hand before she could think better of it or ruin their little truce. She needed the emissary to get out. He needed her compliance in order to avoid any further scrutiny from his HIgh Lord. She could help him and, perhaps, figure out why he wouldn’t just take her back to the wall.

A jolt stole her breath, snapping against her chest like a rubber band. She looked to Lucien who had gone deathly pale, eyes huge and panicked. “What was that?” she asked him.

“Magic,” he told her, smoothing out his features. It didn’t take away the wildness in his eyes. “The agreement settling between us, binding us for the time being. Nothing more.”

She nodded. Absolute honesty. 

And already Elain was certain he was more practiced of a liar than she’d imagined. It was the illusion of trust. 

It was more than she had.

Elain would take what she could get.

[joealwyndaily]

Joe Alwyn on The Graham Norton Radio Show [interview transcription]

Graham Norton: Joe Alwyn joins us. Conversations with Friends starts next Sunday, 15th of May on BBC Three and then all episodes will be on the BBC iPlayer. Congratulations on this, I've watched five or six of them

Joe Alwyn: Thank you very much

GN: and I didn't mean to, I only meant to watch one or two

JA: Didn’t mean to watch them

GN: And then look, then look what happened

JA: Look what happened

GN: So, presumably, I mean is there a lot of pressure on you guys because Normal People was such an enormous hit?

JA: I mean I suppose there’s nerves and pressure on anything. It's definitely a follow up of sorts but I think it's quite nice that even reading the book it doesn't feel like Normal People part two, it's quite different and whilst kind of aesthetically and tonally it's in the same world and it's Sally Rooney and it’s Lenny Abrahamson who's made it, it feels different I think, and that kind of space between is quite nice to relax in

GN: And also what's weird is, given that it’s her first book not her second book, as a story it feels more grown up in that there are more adults in it.

JA: Yeah and on that note also 'cause Normal People, there was a more kind of traditional motor driving it with two people. You know what you're rooting for when they were together, apart, together, apart. And in Conversations with Friends there's four and so there are various possibilities.

GN: So what are you telling people about those four people, how much do you want viewers to know going in? Who are you for instance? And who are those other three people?

JA: who am I? So there’s Frances, who I'm not, Nick who I am, Melissa, and Bobbi. And the story’s kind of told through Frances who’s a 21 year old student at Trinity and it's a kind of coming of age story for her, but also a kind of modern love story. I suppose, asking at its heart, can you love more than one person at once? Can you find love and happiness and intimacy outside of conventional constructs, relationships, friendships, families, marriage, can you break those and find love elsewhere?

GN: It’s so weird ‘cause I met Alison Oliver who plays Frances, I met her about 5-6 years ago, she was at school with the daughter of friends of mine and she was saying she wanted to be an actress and I was just smiling and nodding going ‘yeah right that's going to happen’ and now look

JA: She’s here and she's amazing in it. I mean it’s her first job leaving drama school and she's just absolutely incredible.

GN: And for you, I was watching it and thinking, how do you pitch playing an actor or do you forget about the fact that you are an actor 'cause obviously if you're an actor you think actors are normal.

JA: [laughs] what are you implying?

GN: I think people outside of the industry have a different expectation of who an actor might be.

JA: I didn't kind of think about it too much, the fact that I'm an actor playing an actor. I think I can relate to the weirdness of the job and the kind of ups and downs and just the strangeness that comes with it all. But I didn't kind of think about it too much, about the actor side of it.

GN: and I don't know who the hell is the vocal coach for the production company that makes these but they are good!

JA: I hope so! Thank you!

GN: No seriously, I was watching it thinking ‘is he from Ireland’? Because with Daisy Edgar-Jones, her accent was so flawless. So, are you just very good at accents?

JA: Well there's a brilliant dialect coach called Neil Swain who worked with me, 'cause I was the one having to do an accent, and Lenny who directed it is actually from that area which is quite useful, it's a kind of South Dublin accent, so it's quite anglicized in a way anyway which was sort of useful. But I mean I just did a lot of listening to like Andrew Scott and Tom Vaughn-Lawlor, and like soft kind of South Dublin accent. And the character is married to someone who in our story is British and he's been away to drama school in London and stuff, so the idea was that some of those sounds would have become slightly softened

GN: No it is so subtle [Joe: aw, thanks] but so well done. It really is [Joe: Thank you so much] it really, really, really is impressive. And listen, we’ll talk some more but let's pause for some music. You've chosen a track, what is it, and any particular reason?

JA: I have. I recently watched the Get Back documentary [Graham: oh you have time on your hands] I know I did. [Graham: Christmas] Well, quite recently, about the little-known band The Beatles and it reminded me of something that probably lots of people can relate to. Growing up, going on summer holidays and endlessly long car journeys down to Cornwall or Devon or over to Wales and the whole family being packed in the car and sometimes family friends and a ridiculous amount of pets we had growing up. I mean I remember being in the car one year we had a dog, a few guinea pigs and a tortoise on our laps, and the stops at service stations, lots of fighting with siblings. But the one kind of consistent thing was there was always a cassette and the tape tended to be The Beatles. And for whatever reason this song reminds me most of those long, agonizing, but kind of fun journeys.

[song break: The Beatles - Ticket to Ride]

GN: The Beatles bringing back childhood memories for my guest Joe Alwyn. You mentioned Wales, do you have family in Wales, is that where the Alwyn comes from?

JA: No I don’t, actually the Alwyn, lots of people think I'm Welsh because of that but no, the Alwyn is just Alwyn. I think actually a few generations ago it was changed, I think it was like Smith or something and then they just decided let's mix it up and change the name.

GN: Oh we’re interesting, we’re an interesting family

JA: My parents both pronounce it differently, so I never really know if it’s Al-win or All-win.

GN: I'm so glad you say that 'cause I didn't know.

JA: I go with Al-win, I think it’s Al-win

GN: I was just making a leap of faith

JA: Just mutter it

GN: Yeah and you didn't stop me so I thought it's good enough, it's close enough. Yeah but presumably as your fame grows you're gonna have to make a decision how to say it

JA: Well, I do say Al-win

GN: You do say Al-win, so I'm saying it wrong

JA: I didn't want to say anything, but yeah. I’ll forgive you

GN: OK Joe Alwyn, Alwyn, where do you… you now won a Grammy. When did you win your Grammy, was it just this most recent Grammys?

JA: The one last year, yes

GN: Oh it was last year, okay do you actually have your Grammy?

JA: Not on me today

GN: No, sadly no

JA: didn't bring it in. But yeah I do. I do which is surreal and quite lovely

GN: And is this where they change the rules where everyone who's credited gets a Grammy?

JA: I have no idea. I don't know, I think if you're part of it or a certain percentage of the album then the Grammy's on the way to you. So yeah it was a nice surreal bonus to lockdown

GN: Because you’ve gotta think, as you head out to be an actor of all the awards you're going to win, a Grammy seems unlikely but well done you

JA: I’ll take it

GN: The other thing I was thinking just going through your film list, there's lots of period costumes, was this nice to kind of play a contemporary person?

JA: it was really nice not to get into some form of a corset and get on a horse, yeah, to wear a t-shirt and jeans was quite refreshing and saves a lot of time. As much as I love a bit of sword fighting in a period film it was nice to be in the 21st century.

GN: And earlier I was saying you know when the second Bridgeton came out, people were like where's the friskiness? Where’s the woo ha? and I was saying there is no such disappointment with Conversation with Friends

JA: [laughs]

GN: What you saw in Normal People, I mean it's not the same but it's…

JA: It’s there in the book and so it's there in the series. And it’s a big part of the story and actually, for the two characters, particularly Nick and Frances, it’s a big part of how they are able to communicate. They're not great speakers full stop. Not very good at knowing what they're feeling, let alone saying it out loud. But they’re quite good at communicating physically, shall we say

GN: And it's never gratuitous Joe, it's never gratuitous… it’s tastefully done

JA: I mean Lenny always spoke about those kind of scenes like extensions of conversations and that they’re each there with a slightly different meaning and feeling and telling a different kind of story so they're not just there for the sake of it.

GN: No! No! No! Is it Croatia in the book?

JA: it’s France in the book, but we went off to Croatia for a month, which was pretty lovely

GN: I thought that was so sweet that you didn't just pretend it was France

JA: In the show?

GN: Yeah!

JA: Gotta be honest!

GN: So truthful! I must give a shout out to Kerry Fox who’s so great, is she a kind of literary agent?

JA: yeah, she sort of plays the literary agent to Melissa, who Jemima Kirke plays, and she owns this beautiful villa in Croatia where we all go for a couple of weeks

GN: Wow and presumably Conversations with Friends is being rolled out across the world. It’s starting here on BBC Three but then it will be on in America

JA: I think so, I think on May 15th it comes out in America as well on Hulu

GN: Oh okay, so will you be over there promoting it as well?

JA: I think I will

GN: ‘Yes I will, yes I will’. Do say hello to Alison when you see her

JA: I will

GN: ‘Cause I mean how exciting for her though? Her first gig

JA: I know, it's amazing. I mean she should be absolutely thrilled and it's just amazing. She's in every single scene of the thing, like it's her story and she just does the most phenomenal job

GN: Yeah we were watching her and thinking…

JA: Did you just recognize her?

GN: No, when the casting was announced, my friends were like texting me going like ‘you met her in our kitchen’ and I was like I do remember seeing her in your kitchen quite a long time ago. But I was just watching it and just thinking like, how do you know how to do that, you know I think it's just a scene where she was walking down the street or something and just with no self-consciousness, no awkwardness, she’s brilliant. I mean, you're very good too Joe, I mean obviously, you’re an old hand, you know what you’re doing. Anyway, listen good luck with it. It starts next Sunday on BBC Three and then it's all on the iPlayer so you can binge it 'cause there's a bunch of episodes, how many episodes?

JA: I think there's twelve half-hour episodes, the same format as Normal People

GN: Wow, good luck, well done you.

JA: Thank you

GN: Alright take care of yourself and I’ll see you tomorrow night at BAFTA

JA: I’ll see you, take care. Thanks Graham

[natashxromanovf]

omg hi! It's been a hot minute! Hope all is well! I was wondering if I could get a Pietro Maximoff x Reader onshot with prompt 36. "I'll be damned if anyone makes you feel like you aren't worthy of being loved." Where the reader is being bullied online for dating him, and it's pretty angsty but has a fluffy ending? It's totally okay if it's a drabble or blurb as well. Have a good day or night! <3

Jealousy, Jealousy

Pietro Maximoff x fem!reader

Word count: 730

Warnings: online bullying, mentions of being insecure

A/N: Okay, my one-shot requests are closed at the moment so this is part of the writing hours, as I already clarified. No, this is not inspired by Olivia’s song, I just named the fic like that. I hope you enjoy this, thank you for requesting! <3 If y'all are wondering why I included my taglist in this - it's because i'm very proud of this piece and it would be amazing for it to get some feedback :)

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Dating Pietro is one of the best things that happened in your life. He’s sweet and caring, kinda cocky too but that’s just what you gotta take with everything nice - in a way, his cockiness is contagious and it made you a little more confident too. Which is a good thing, confidence never hurt anyone.

But not everything is daisies and sunshine; some people think that you don’t deserve Pietro. That he could find someone better, someone who’s more like him. You’re not an Avenger nor do you have superpowers. You’re just a normal human being with no secret life, no secret abilities and you like it that way. Yet it doesn’t help with insecurities; it’s like a little devil is always whispering into your ear about how people are right, how you should just break up with him, tell him he deserves someone better. It’s not okay and you know it, your relationship makes both of you happy but sometimes, the dark thoughts overpower the good ones.

Today is one of those days. You feel like the bullies are extra mean lately and today when you woke up something in you snapped. Of course, the first thing you did was go on Instagram and read the comments under your last post. Some were positive, sure, but some were crueler than ever. They developed from simple “he deserves better” to death threats and honestly, it makes you sick to think about it.

Even Pietro noticed something was not okay - the lack of appetite, cringing every time you look at your phone, increased sadness. He really wishes he could do something, help somehow but he doesn’t know how to approach the situation. All this relationship thing is new to him, even friendships too. For a long time, Wanda was the only person he could really call a friend and it shows.

“Hey, baby, how are you?” he starts as he enters the room, pressing a sweet kiss against your cheek. You smile, the first real smile in a while before replying with a simple “I’m okay,”

He could easily see right through you, knowing that was a lie but instead of pressuring you he decided on trying to convince you to tell him yourself. “Are you sure about that? You seem kinda… down,” he states, his tone nothing but soft. You know you should tell him, you really should but it’s just so hard - you feel like a burden, like you’ll give him something more to worry about as if he doesn’t have enough on his plate already. But deep down you know he’ll listen and help, if not anything else he’ll have good advice. As much as he can be stupid sometimes, he can also be damn smart.

“Okay, you’re right. The reason I’ve been feeling sad lately is because some stupid people have been mean on the internet. I tried to ignore it but the comments just kept getting worse and worse until I couldn’t help but wonder if they’re right. And believe me, I know I shouldn’t listen to them, that they’re only doing this because they’re jealous but it’s hard,” you finish, Pietro getting angrier with each second passing by. He didn’t know about any of this and it pains him that you wouldn’t tell him the minute it started but he also understands. Truth be told, he would do the same so there’s no way he can blame you - it still doesn’t stop him from wishing you would’ve said something sooner though.

“Oh, printessa, I’m sorry,” he sighs, pulling you into a big and comforting hug. You hide your face into the crook of his neck, him caressing your back. “You’re right. You shouldn’t listen to them. They just want to see how long it takes you to crack and they want attention. I wish I could tell you this will stop but it won’t. There will always be people who will hate but you gotta remember it’s all because their lives are so miserable they need to do this to feel good. All I can promise is that I’ll be damned if anyone makes you feel like you aren’t worthy of being loved,” he mutters, kissing the crown of your head gently. You just smile, glad that you decided to tell him - he said all the right things, just like you knew he would. And you now know that in the end, there's no way you would let anybody take Pietro away from you.

I hope you enjoyed this! As always, feedback is very much appreciated <3

General taglist: @maybanksslut @sprucewoodlover @potterheadphanatic-blog @sabstfu @emmywinningengineer

Marvel taglist: @voidmalfoy @cunningambitousdetermined @crazy-beautiful @pad-foots @scintillatea @sexysirius @rorybutnotgilmore @kimoralov3 @msfandomfreak @johnmurphyisqueer @dreamcxtcherr @griffxnnage @xxromanoffxx @dreamy-clousds

Pietro Maximoff: @leossmoonn @mollysolo @velvetcloxds @jackys-stuff-blog

[whumperooni]

Just the two of us

Natsuo Todoroki x Reader

Tags/Warnings: unprotected sex, dubcon, ditzy!virgin!Reader, creampies, manipulation, pseudo incest, big brother/little sister kink, natsuo being a perv

Word count: 7.7k

This was written in response to an anon! It...well, it spiraled out of control so I’m putting this in an actual post. Thank you so much nonny for sending me such a good thirst/prompt!

Reader-chan is aged up!!!!!

It’s not often that Natsuo gets the house to himself. He has a big family- there’s usually someone around to keep him company. Today, though, it’s empty and he’s the only Todoroki on the estate. Fuyumi’s grading papers at a friend’s house. Shoto is training with Deku. Enji is off doing god knows what- Natsuo doesn’t particularly care where his father is. So it’s just him for now. And it’s nice. He’s taken advantage of the solitude and claimed the living room as his own. He’s spread his textbooks and notes all over the floor and brought in a bunch of snacks from the kitchen- some beer and chips and some celery that Fuyumi must have cut up at some point. The tv’s on, but the volume is low so he can concentrate on his work and he’s brought his pillows from his room to make it extra comfy. It’s nice. It’s relaxed. It’s some peace and quiet that Natsuo didn’t realize he needed until he actually received it. Small blessings, he thinks as he munches on some chips and scrawls notes out on a rough draft of an essay. His solitude is only interrupted when the doorbell chimes. Natsuo’s brow raises at the noise and he tilts his head back to look toward the hallway, lets out a soft huff. He doesn’t know who could be visiting- everyone else is still out and about- and he doesn’t remember any of his friends asking to stop by. Maybe it’s a delivery? It’s not that late yet. A hum leaves Natsuo and he stands from he’s been kicked back, wipes his hands on the sides of his sweatpants. He pulls on a discarded hoodie as he goes to answer the door and tugs it on with a yawn right as the bell goes off again. The impatience is a little annoying, but Natsuo manages to keep a frown from his face when he opens the door. Not that it would stay for very long anyway- when he slides the door open he’s greeted by someone that always manages to wipe away his frustration. You smile at him- a finger twirling a lock of your hair- and Natsuo’s heart stops for a moment at the sweet way you chirp out, “Natsuo-nii!” in greeting. Crap, it’s you- sweet, cute, bumbling and adorable you. Shoto’s friend and Natsuo’s shameful lust- a walking, talking fantasy that already has Natsuo swallowing and his self-control slipping. He’s had a thing for you ever since Shoto brought you home for a group study session with some of his other classmates. He’s had a thing for you ever since you started coming over without the other third year UA students accompanying you. He’s had a thing for you ever since you first called him Natsuo-nii in that saccharine voice of yours. You’re his type through and through- cute and clueless and oh so innocent. It’s mean of him to think, but he’s not sure how an airhead like you got into UA- he’s not really even sure how you were the one that managed to claim Shoto’s friendship. It doesn’t matter, really, because you’re here smiling all honey-sweet at him and he’s all too aware that Shoto isn’t- that, for now, the two of you are all alone just like he’s guiltily imagined so many times over these past few months. Natsuo wets his lips and takes a deep breath, offers a smile right back at you. “What’s up?” he asks, leaning against the doorframe. “Are you looking for Shoto? He’s not here.” You blink and he watches as confusion spreads across your pretty face, as your brows furrow and your lips set into a tiny pout. “He’s not? But he told me that he would be home after training…” Your voice comes out bewildered and cute and Natsuo watches you through his lashes as you dig your phone out of your purse and start to scroll through it. “He’s still training,” Natsuo tells you, eyeing the way your head tilts as you frown at your phone. Temptation pricks at him and Natsuo has to guiltily shove it back before he can give into any bad ideas. “At least, I think he is. I don’t know when he was planning to finish.” “Eh??? But we were gonna watch a movie together,” you pout- voice tilting with a whine that should be more annoying than endearing. Natsuo kind of likes it, the way your voice pitches with your dissatisfaction, and he can’t help wondering how your whines would sound under different circumstances. Like a dream, probably. Natsuo offers you another smile- this one a little apologetic- and he rubs the back of his neck, watches as your hips shift to the side and cause your short skirt to flutter across your thighs. God, he wants to run his hand up them. “Sorry,” Natsuo apologizes to you. “You know how he gets when he’s training- he’s probably gotten caught up in it.” Your lips quirk in disappointment and he watches you sigh- arms folding across your chest and your demeanor wilting as fast as a daisy in a desert. He thinks to say something to you- what he doesn’t know- but then you perk up in an instant and flash him one of your so easily summoned smiles. “It’s not your fault,” you tell him sweetly. “I can wait for him to get back! Oh, if that’s okay, of course. Can I wait for him here, Natsuo-nii? Is that alright?” The temptation he had pushed away comes back with a vengeance and Natsuo has to swallow when several bad ideas flash through his mind. Of course you would ask if you could stay in that adorable voice of yours. Of course you would call him Natsuo-nii and flutter your lashes without thought. Clueless girl- don’t you know how weak he is? Don’t you know the danger of being alone with a grown man with impure impulses? Fuck, he needs to keep it together. He needs to behave. “Natsuo-nii?” Natsuo blinks and he clears his throat, smiles down at you while you look up at him with curious eyes. “Sorry,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish laugh. “Yeah, of course you can wait here.” What else is he supposed to say, he reasons. It’s not like he can be rude and deny you, turn you away. Natsuo is a nice guy and he doesn’t want to hurt your feelings, rebuff someone important to his little brother- that would be a terrible thing to do. He can’t just be impolite. ...right? You light up in an instant at his agreement- beaming up at him and letting out a pleased little noise before beginning to kick off your shoes. Natsuo watches you, knowing deep down that he’s being a fool, and tells himself that he needs to keep it together. He doesn’t think Shoto would appreciate him trying to get handsy with you. (God, he wants to, though) When your shoes are off, Natsuo steps into the hallway and beckons you inside before closing the door and isolating the two of you from the rest of the world. “I was just studying in the living room,” he tells you. “No one else is home so feel free to do what you want.” Your head tilts with surprise- you’ve never been here with only one Todoroki in the house- and Natsuo watches as you hum and rock on your heels. “Can I hang out with you?” you ask, smiling up at him. “It would be weird wanderin’ around by myself.” That’s true. No one would feel comfortable like that, probably. So there’s nothing wrong with Natsuo agreeing to it- nothing sleazy about that at all, definitely not. It’s not wrong when you were the one to suggest it. ...right? Natsuo blinks and he sweeps his gaze over you, takes in your short skirt and candy-sweet smile. He nods and ignores the faint guilt that flits through him as he smiles back at you. “Yeah, of course. C’mon.” Another pleased noise from you and Natsuo has to turn away before his shame and satisfaction can take over his face. His heart pounds a little as he heads back to the living room- your light footsteps following close behind- and Natsuo immediately grabs his beer and downs the rest of it as soon as he plops back down onto the tatami mat. You take the couch and that’s a relief- a disappointment too. ...it’s probably for the best. Natsuo watches as you get comfortable on the couch- a pillow tucked and hugged underneath your chin and your knee high clad legs lazily kicking and stirring in the air as you pull out your phone. Your shirt has rucked up a little from where you’ve scootched to get more comfortable and there’s just a sliver of lace peeking over the waistband of your too short skirt. Natsuo looks away and pulls a pillow over his lap to hide the way he’s beginning to tent his sweatpants. Pervert, he scolds himself. You’re an absolute pervert. (Even with the self-admonishing, though, he’s still so keenly aware of how it’s just you and him in the house, how adoringly you look up to him, and how easy it would be to get you riding his fingers, squirming and mewling underneath him.) Natsuo swallows hard and he reaches for his drink, takes a deep, annoyed breath when he remembers that, oh yeah, he had just smashed the rest of it. He needs another one. “Hey, do you want anything to drink?” he asks. “I gotta grab something from the kitchen.” You blink at him, head tilting, and then you smile sweetly, nod as your dimples flash his way. “Yes, please,” you tell him so very politely. “Just some water.” Natsuo nods and he gathers up his trash, stands up and heads toward the kitchen. He can’t help throwing a look your way as he passes by the couch and it almost KO’s him when he gets a look at cotton white panties peeking between parted thighs. Natsuo swallows hard and he walks to the kitchen stiffly. Think about something else, he tells himself firmly. Think about Fuyumi in her robe and face masks. Think about Shoto coming home covered in slime after a villain attack. Think about dad. Natsuo’s cock wilts as he imagines his family and he leans against the counter, breathes out a huge sigh of relief. Something’s going to end up happening if someone doesn’t come home soon. (He wants something to happen so bad. You probably wouldn’t mind- you’re such a sweet little ditz and he knows he could make you bliss out with pleasure. You’d like it- little darlings like you always end up loving being on your knees, getting your warm holes bred and your mouth filled with big fingers, hard cocks.) Natsuo sighs and he adjusts himself before grabbing another beer, a bottle of water for you. When he steps back in the living room, Natsuo finds you kneeling on the floor and peeking at his notes- face confused but curious as you skim over them. It’s a little cute and it’s an opportunity to get close- something more innocent than his other urges that he can’t help giving into. Natsuo sits down right beside you- thigh brushing against yours- and smiles at you when you look his way, offers you the water you had requested. “Here,” he tells you. He gets a hummed “thank you” in response and he watches through his lashes as you take a sip of water, traces the movement of your throat with his gaze as you swallow it down. He wants to follow that movement with his mouth, trail his tongue up that soft flesh and make you whimper and cling to him. He wants to do so much. “Natsuo-nii, you’re so smart, you know- I can’t understand half of what your notes say!” Of course charming, simple you can’t understand his notes. It’s adorable that you try, though. Natsuo smiles at the compliment, ego shamefully stroked, and he rubs the back of his neck whenever you smile back. “Thanks,” he says with a little laugh. “But it’s hard for me too- all that jargon makes my brain turn to mush after a while.” You nod sympathetically and Natsuo has to bite his tongue so he doesn’t breathe in sharp whenever your hand reaches out and pats his knee. “You should take a break when that happens,” you advise, voice and face solemn. It’s funny to see you serious, like you’re telling him something that he doesn’t already know- like a little kid instructing their older brother on basic things everyone else already has a grasp on. “Mmm, yeah,” Natsuo agrees, still smiling. Your hand hasn’t moved from his knee; he wants to drag it up higher. “I probably should.” You nod again, face still solemn, and Natsuo wets his lips as an idea pushes past the weak hold he has on his self-control. ...there’s nothing wrong with watching a movie together, he reasons. It’s just a movie- that’s it. It’s completely innocent. You’ve watched movies with her before- this isn’t any different. (Except that the two of you are all alone and movies with two people wrapped up in solitude tend to lead to more salacious activities.) Natsuo licks his lips and he offers you an easy grin, sinks further into temptation. “I could use a break actually,” he tells you. “You wanna watch something with me?” Your eyes light up and crinkle as you smile- enthusiasm radiating from you like an easily pleased child. He almost kisses you then, but he holds back and reaches for the remote instead. “Here,” he offers, “pick something out.” A happy little noise leaves you and that has Natsuo fond, smiling. He moves to get more comfortable and leans his back against the couch, watches as you flip through the channels with a concentrated look on your cute, cute face. An idea strikes him when he sees you squirming to get more comfortable- a bad idea that he absolutely should not give into. An idea that he absolutely gives into. It wouldn’t be that bad, he tells himself. She’s so physical anyways- it’s not like she hasn’t done that before and it’s not like you’re going to actually do anything. Natsuo watches you and then he reaches out, pulls you back without warning to rest between his legs- your back to his chest and his thighs bracketing your body. You tilt your head back to look at him- wide eyed and surprised- and Natsuo just shrugs, grabs a blanket to drape over his shoulders. “This is more comfortable,” he explains as if that can dismiss any of the improper closeness. “And I’m cold.” A lie, but you take it with a smile and a giggle. There’s a noise of something like contentment that leaves you and Natsuo breathes in deep when you wiggle closer against him, when you let out a happy sigh. “Sho-chan never wants to cuddle,” you complain as you snuggle in close. “This is nice.” Hell yeah it is. Natsuo hums and he hesitates for only a moment before chancing wrapping his arms around your waist. The smile you flash up at him gets Natsuo dangerously close to grabbing your chin and kissing you breathless, but he’s able to clumsily grasp his slipping self-control and only gives you a smile in return. Soon enough, you find an old movie to watch and your focus goes to that. Vampires and magic capture your attention fully, but Natsuo ignores it to focus on you instead- soft, pretty, cute you snuggled up against him and radiating nothing but warmth and trust. With you so close he can smell your perfume- a scent of vanilla and peaches that makes his mouth water, a scent that further cements your innocence in his eyes and just makes him want to bury his face in the crook of your neck, breathe you in and kiss along your throat until all you can do is moan. Natsuo holds you a little tighter without even realizing and he buries his face in your hair, closes his eyes. He only becomes aware of the action when you let out a curious noise and he has to hold back a groan, mentally scold himself for giving into all his desires without even pretending to put on a fight for the illusion of morality. What’s the point of trying to pretend he’s better than this, though? He’s already gotten off to you before. He’s jerked himself to the thought of you on your knees and your pretty face so innocent as you ask “Natsuo-nii, what’s a blowjob?” He’s cum to the image of you sat in his lap- pleading so sweetly for him to teach you things you’ve been so curious about. He’s fucked his fist to the thought of stuffing your cunny with his cock and making you squeal his name- short skirt flipped up and your soft tits bouncing with each snap of his hips. He’s already thoroughly ruined you in his mind; he’s already came to the thought of losing the grip on his self-control and fucking you speechless. It’s not like he can lie to himself when he’s already spilled his seed over his fist so many times to the thought of you. He knows he’s not better than his impulses and fantasies. And he knows, maybe, that this could be something that’s just meant to happen. Hell, better him than any of the little horny fuckers you call classmates. Natsuo hums and he noses at your hair, skims his fingers along your stomach. “You smell really nice,” he murmurs. “Makes me...hungry.” You giggle a little, dumb and clueless, and you stay still in his hold- not moving even when his hands run down your sides and fall to the tops of your thighs. You don’t seem to mind when he noses down the side of your head and hooks his chin over your shoulder and Natsuo’s lashes lower at the content smile on your face. “You smell nice too, Natsuo-nii,” you chirp, complimenting him in return. Natsuo hums and allows his fingers to trace along your thighs- fingers dipping just over the top to glance along the soft insides. You blink at that, lashes fluttering, and Natsuo doesn’t bother stopping even when you tilt your head his way. You’re not blushing- you just look curious and a little clueless like the naive airhead you are. Even when his hands replace his fingers and his palms cup the insides of your thighs, all you do is smile like the perfect little ditz that you are and lean back further into his chest. Natsuo hums and he accepts your non-reactions as consent, feels the last few threads of his self-control begin to snap and fray. “You’re really cute too, you know,” he murmurs- squeezing your thighs ever so lightly. “Bet all the boys are chasin’ after you.” You do blush a bit this time- pink dusting over your cheeks and your head moving in a tiny little shake. “No?” Natsuo asks, brow raising. “Don’t tell me you don’t have a boyfriend- you’re much too pretty to be single.” Your flush flares oh so sweetly and it’s hard for him not to dig his fingers deep into your thighs, run his hand up high. The “Natsuo-nii” that you half squeak, half whine at the compliment is nothing short of adorable and, really, he’s lucky you’re angled in your lean against his chest, that you can’t feel his hardness against your back. “Come on,” he coaxes- all friendly and teasing like a “big brother” should be. “You can tell me.” You squirm a little and it causes his hands to slide closer to the hem of your skirt, makes his heart beat a little faster. The shy bite to your lip has Natsuo hungry for you and he almost bites his own in want. “I- I don’t have a boyfriend,” you mumble, face turning just a bit like you’re trying to hide a little. “I’ve never...I’ve never had a boyfriend.” Fuck you’re such a sweet, untouched thing. Natsuo swallows a groan and he flexes his fingers against your thighs, tries his best not to just grab onto you. “That’s a shame,” he tells you, voice dipping low. “Cute thing like you should be appreciated and adored.” The pink on your cheeks flare into a darling red and Natsuo feels his lips twitch with a touch of amusement whenever a shy, pleased smile flickers across your face. He’s not really used to you being bashful, but he likes it- likes it a lot, actually. “No boyfriend at all?” he presses with a murmur. “You’ve at least gotten a kiss before, right?” He is, admittedly, disappointed whenever you give a small nod. He is not disappointed, however, when the muscles in your thighs flex and your legs spread just a tiny bit wider, when you only blink whenever his hands dare to smooth down right to the very hem of your skirt. “Kind of?” you tell him- voice uncertain and flush lingering. “Um, Kacchan kissed me on the last school trip but that was only ‘cause Kaminari dared him to.” Your shyness peaks a little, voice growing softer with each word and Natsuo wets his lips when you continue with, “It- It was just a peck. Not a real kiss.” Any disappointment he had fades away and Natsuo leans over you a little bit, cages you more against him and tries not to grin. Careful, a voice whispers in the back of his mind. You don’t want to scare her away. Natsuo hums and he strokes his fingers along your soft thighs, enjoys the small squirm from you that it brings. You still don’t pull away and, god, he’s so certain now that you’d let him do almost anything. “Sounds like a kiss to me,” he muses. “What do you mean by a real kiss?” You squirm more and, god, now his hands are just underneath your skirt. He’s not sure if you notice. He’s not sure if he cares anymore. “Like, um,” you say, a little dumb but still so sweet, “like with tongues and stuff…” You sound like a kid- naive and innocent and without any real knowledge of kisses and intimacy. Maybe it shouldn’t turn him on as much as it does but, god, it makes him feel predatory and hungry. “With tongues and stuff?” he asks- unable to help a little tease. You pout at him, but there’s a smile quirking up on the corners of your lips despite your petulance at being teased and, god, he’s really too weak to hold back anymore. “So you mean,” he murmurs and reaches a hand to cup your face, “something like this.” Before you can react, Natsuo leans down and presses his lips against yours. A surprised noise leaves you at the sudden kiss, but it’s nothing that Natsuo hears- his ears are full with the sound of his blood rushing and his heart pounding hard and fast. You don’t pull away from him. You don’t shove him or try to squirm away. You let yourself be kissed and you flush beneath his hand- startled and confused but unoffended by your best friend’s big brother molding his lips against your. It’s only when he traces your bottom lip with his tongue that you react more than being a passive little doll- you gasp, softly, and press forward just a bit against him, let something close to a whimper crawl from your throat. Natsuo’s free hand finds your other cheek then and he slips his tongue between parted lips, lets it brush against yours and swallows a groan when you instinctively start to kiss back. Such a good girl. Your lips are so soft- cherry flavored and sweet. The wavering, whimpering, unsure noises that you make has his mind reeling with greed and need and, honestly, he could kiss you for hours on end. He wants to do so much more, though. He needs to do so much more. Natsuo hums into the kiss and moves a hand down to the middle of your back, pushes you even closer. The way you tremble underneath his hand is so cute, but it’s even cuter when you curl your fingers against his chest, look up at him with half-shut eyes and flushed cheeks whenever he breaks the kiss. Natsuo smiles down at you- boyish and friendly- and he revels in the way you press your face against his palm, how you let out a wanting- if confused and flustered- sound. “Sorry,” he apologizes, not meaning it at all. “You’re just so cute, you know- I couldn’t help myself.” Your blush flares from sakura pink to rose red and Natsuo takes pleasure in the way you squirm shyly, grip onto the fabric of his hoodie. The “Natsuo-nii” you mumble out is soft and bashful, far from the whine he had expected. He likes it, though, and enjoys the sheer haze pulled over your eyes, the nearly dazed look that plays across your face. “Did you like it?” he asks, smoothing his hand from your cheek to your chin and pressing his thumb against the plush flesh of your bottom lip. Your mouth opens automatically, unthinkingly, and it takes all of his weathered down self-control not to slip his fingers inside that wet, warm hole. “Was it real enough for you?” A soft noise and a hitch of your breath, lashes fluttering with some stray embarrassment. This time the “Natsuo-nii” you mumble is trailed after by a small whine and Natsuo hums at it, strokes his thumb along your bottom lip. He doesn’t bother trying to coax you more- your compliance and the way you're still pressed against him is enough consent for him to capture your lips in another kiss, to slip his tongue inside your soft mouth and muffle the whine that sounds from you. Natsuo kisses you hotly, deeply, wetly. He pours all his pent-up hunger into it and lets his self-control slip away completely, groans into your mouth and pulls you into his lap. You let yourself be manhandled like the dumb, docile, good girl you are and Natsuo grips your hips once you’re seated pretty on his lap, groans again whenever he feels your little mound brush against his hard cock. The gasp that you let out whenever he pushes your hips forward and back to hump against him almost has him snarling- something primitive and rough in the back of his mind getting off on the innocent, pure surprise you radiate as your clothed cunny is made to grind against his dick. You whimper, hips moving on their own, and Natsuo breaks the kiss to tangle fingers in your hair, watch you through half-shut eyes as something like wonder flickers over your flushed face. “I- feels good, Natsuo-nii,” you mumble, head dropping to watch as your hips rock against him. “I don’t- why does it…” A mewl leaves you as you trail off and Natsuo places his hand to your neck, makes your head tilt back so he can nose against the soft flesh of your throat. You shudder whenever he kisses you there and Natsuo hums deeply in satisfaction, licks a little stripe and makes you moan so, so, so quietly. “Feels good because you’re grindin’ against my cock,” Natsuo hums out. “Feels good ‘cause your pussy is excited for it.” Your gasp this time is almost scandalized- cheeks flaring in shock at his words and the way your pussy is starting to throb with a slow, honeyed pulse. Natsuo can’t help his amused grin against your neck and he takes pleasure in the way you whimper whenever he rocks his hips to meet yours. You’re so warm even if he’s done so little- clothed cunny radiating heat as it glides over his hard-on. He desperately wants to feel your warmth with his fingers, slide a digit along your surely wet slit and make you fuck yourself on his fingers until you’re leaking and glazed over. Another gasp as you hump against him and Natsuo places a wet, hot kiss to your throat, breathes in deep whenever your hands grip onto his shoulders. “Sit up on your knees, baby,” he orders in a murmur, pulling his head back to take in the glory of your carmine cheeks and parted, trembling lips. You lashes flutter with the command, some disappointment and reluctance flashing across your already fuzzy face. You obey him, though, and Natsuo’s eyes fall half-shut whenever your hands grip his shoulders tighter, when you do what he says without any thought or protest. Such a good girl. When his hands grip your thighs and push them further apart, a confused noise sounds from you. Another follows whenever your skirt gets flipped over your hips, but the sound you make whenever his hand rubs over your cunny is flustered and surprised- a gasp that morphs into a whimper when the heel of his palm grinds down against your clit. The oh so soft whine of “Natsuo-nii” you let out has Natsuo groaning and he grinds his palm harder against you, narrows his eyes in pleasure whenever your hips buck against his hand. “Call me nii-chan,” he orders, voice low with a growl that wants to sound. “Call me big brother.” You whine again and it’s so loud this time, so needy as your back arches and you grind like a well-experienced slut against his palm. “Nii...nii-chan…” Natsuo closes his eyes at the whimper and he smooths his free hand over his dick- grinds up against his palm in a mirrored movement of your own needy little undulations. “Good girl,” he breathes out. “So good for me.” Another whimper and Natsuo hooks his fingers underneath your panties, tugs them to the side. You squeal a little at that, hips moving in a surprised shake, but you’re quick to gasp and settle whenever he glides a finger up your slit, rubs against your clit. “Nii- nii-chan! Feels- it feels good!” Of course it does- he doubts you’ve felt this sort of pleasure before, that you can even comprehend and keep up with the way your body is building and chasing after an orgasm. He’s going to give you your first cum and, fuck, that’s hot- that’s so hot. Natsuo hums and strokes his finger over your clit, circles it with just the tip of the digit and watches with a half-smile as you gasp and start falling apart so sweetly at his touch. You’re warm- just like he had imagined- and Natsuo breathes in deep as he feels his cock twitch at the thought of sinking into your plush heat, stirring up those hot insides. You shake as he teases the wet hole of your pussy and Natsuo realizes that he wants you to come for the very first time on his cock. With a lick of his lips, Natsuo pulls his hand away from you. Disappointment, petulance cross across your pretty, hazy face and Natsuo huffs fondly at the quick panic of desperation that rises in your eyes, the way you let out a needy whine. He pushes you back from him and down onto your laying on the floor and underneath him- legs sprawled and skirt flipped up, panties slicked to the side to show off your wet, swollen cunny. You whimper as he looks over you hungrily and Natsuo is quick to kiss your confusion and embarrassment away. Your kisses are so frantic- clumsy and overwhelmed and needy as your hands cling to his hoodie, scrabble along his back. He adores your inexperienced attempts at kissing him back, but he loves the way your back arches whenever he slots himself between your thighs and grinds down against you. Natsuo swallows and smothers the moan that you let out whenever his hands push up your shirt and squeeze your soft breasts. He breaks from the kiss, though, to hear your mewls and cute little squeals when he teases your nipples. The way you grip his hair whenever he sucks one of those flushed peaks into his mouth almost makes him lose his mind and Natsuo groans into your soft skin, snaps his hips into a hard grind against your soaked pussy. “Natsuo- onii-chan, feels- it feels-” Feels so good, right? A whine leaves you and you interrupt your own babbling, whimper into his mouth whenever he surges up and crushes his hungry lips against yours. You don’t notice whenever he reaches a hand to push his sweatpants down and out of the way and Natsuo groans whenever his dick slides against your wet cunt. The panicked noise that leaves you doesn’t deter him at all- nor does the way you squirm in uncertainty underneath him. He only pulls his face back from the kiss to look over you when you whimper and he smiles at you sweetly- nice and friendly and so, so warm. The way his face softens helps you to relax a little, but nervousness still claims your expression- eyes wide and teeth nibbling on your bottom lip as you tremble underneath him. “Nii- nii-chan, I’m...I can’t...I’m…’m a virgin.” Your embarrassed, anxious mutter only makes him that much harder. Natsuo’s face softens more even as his lust rises- smile nearly beatific, cock aching- and he hums as his hands reach to cup your face- arms hooking your thighs over the crooks of his elbows and pressing them close to your chest. He kisses your forehead and it’s chaste enough to make you nearly melt, flusters you even more with how it juxtaposes against his hard cock laying against your pussy. “That’s okay,” he murmurs, kissing your cheek and then your lips. “I’ll be gentle.” “W- wait-!” Another kiss to your forehead and Natsuo cants his hips back and then pushes them forward, sinks into your virgin, wet cunt. You clench down around him immediately- a sob tearing from your lips as your tight, tight insides are forced to stretch open to accommodate his dick. It’s hot in you- honeyed and so fucking sweet, syrupy. Natsuo moans as he slowly fills you inch by aching inch- mind hazing over and face burying into the crook over your neck as your plush insides flutter and squeeze around him oh so desperately. He nuzzles you whenever he hears you sniffle and whimper and lifts his head to smile at you- face drunken with bliss and smile so serene as he cups your cheek, grinds into your tight little cunny. “Shh, baby,” he croons, fingers brushing a stray tear from your cheek and comforting you as your face contorts with pain. “Onii-chan’s got you. You’re okay.” It’s horrible, but he gets that much harder whenever you sniffle and whimper, press into his touch in search of consolation. He doesn’t feel bad about it, though- can’t feel bad about it whenever your molten, heady insides squeeze around him in accompaniment to the onii-chan you mumble out. Natsuo hums, satisfied and smiling, and he kisses you sweetly, smiles a bit bigger when he pulls his head back to take in your trembling, pouting lips and wet lashes. Such an innocent little thing. So adorable. Natsuo grinds his hips against you and watches as you squirm underneath him, groans at the hiccuping little sob that sounds from you whenever he rolls his hips back and rocks them forward so he can fill you fully once more. “So tight,” he murmurs as he rolls his hips and sinks into your heat slowly. “So wet. You’re such a good girl.” A soft noise makes its way from your throat and Natsuo revels in how your cunny flutters around his cock, how your body relaxes ever so slightly with the praise. The “nii-san” you sniffle out is sulky- like a kid pouting after scraping their knee- but it’s sweet too- soft and whiny and hot. “Mmm,” Natsuo hums, nuzzling against your cheek, “gonna make you feel so good, I promise.” Another soft noise and then a mewl, your head tilting back and fingers curling into your palms as Natsuo begins to fuck you slowly. He takes the opportunity to latch his lips onto your throat and groans as he starts to suck a dark little bruise, slides his hands up your arms and laces his fingers through yours as you gasp and moan, clench around him. Fuck you feel so good- silken and sweet, scorching with your honeyed heat. You could make a man lose his mind- you are making Natsuo lose his mind. He could stay buried in your pussy forever. Natsuo groans against your throat and snaps his hips against you harder, fucks your pulpy, mushy, perfect insides faster. You gasp and whimper at it, but your cunny clenches around him eagerly- hot insides gripping at his cock likes they’re trying to keep him from pulling out, like they’re trying to suck him in even deeper. “Nii- nii-chan...nii-chan, please- I- feels good…” Look at you- gone from sniffling to begging in just a second. He knew you’d be such a good little girl for him, that a darling like you was made to be fucked. Natsuo hums- low and satisfied- and he noses up your neck and along your jawline, catches the lobe of your ear between his teeth as he fucks you faster. He almost doesn’t want to come- you feel that good around him. He wants to live in this moment forever- this perfect slice of heaven with you moaning and squeezing around his cock, gasping and gripping his hands tight as pleasure starts to build and overwhelm your simple little mind. He doesn’t want to come but, fuck, how can he not? No one could resist your whines and your whimpers, the clench of your pussy. No one could hold back with you mewling “onii-chan, please- more!” No one could keep in control with you panting and unraveling- confused over so much pleasure but so eager for it, so greedy as your mind blanks and all you can do is focus on the feeling of your cunny being fucked and filled by a hard, hard cock. Natsuo grits his teeth as you squeeze around him frantically, struggles to hold back as you whine and look up at him with almost panicked eyes. “Nii- nii-san, feels- feels-” You can’t finish the sentence, can’t even begin to string words together. The way your voice pitches with need and distress has Natsuo’s cheeks flushing as he fucks into your wet, squelching pussy and he groans as you whine, throb around him. “S’okay,” he assures you- drunk on the feeling of your pussy and almost dizzy from your cute, overwhelmed need. “You’re just gonna come, baby. It’s fine; you can do it. Fuck- come for me, baby. Come on my cock.” You sob and your body tries to arch, tenses as you clamp around him tight, tight, tight. He cries out as you begin to come and he fucks into you without thought- primal and frenzied and rough as you cry out his name and dig your nails into the back of his hands, pant and shake and fall apart into a whimpering mess underneath. Natsuo fucks into your pulsing, coming, creaming pussy once, twice, three times and then he trips after you into pleasure- moaning and grinding his hips tight against yours as he fills your cunny with hot, wet, sticky cum. You come again from that like a good girl- pussy fluttering and a sweet mewl slipping from your lips as one orgasm passes into the next- and Natsuo trembles from the overstimulation of your greedy little cunny, groans and buries his face into the crook of your neck as he humps into your cum coated insides. “Fuck, that’s a good girl,” he breathes out- hot and sated and almost lightheaded as you pulse around him sweetly. “So good for me.” A whimper, a mewl. He lifts his head whenever you mumble out a sleepy “onii-chan” and smiles to himself at the dumb, blissed out look on your face, the flush on your cheeks and the soft noise that leaves you whenever he presses a kiss to your lips. “See?” he murmurs to you. “Told you nii-san would take care of you.” Another soft noise- this one nearly thoughtful as you give a tiny little nod. Natsuo hums his satisfaction and kisses you again- slips his tongue into your wet, yielding mouth and coaxes a tired moan from you. He could fuck you again- he’s sure you want him to fuck you again- but he knows that his time is running short, that he doesn’t have enough left to fuck you even more stupid and sweet. Next time though… Anticipation and satisfaction twine through Natsuo’s chest and he grins to himself, runs a hand along your side and kisses you chastely as he slowly, reluctantly slips out from your honeyed insides. The disappointed whine that you let out almost has him sliding back in, but Natsuo steadies himself and slowly backs off of you, strokes his cock as he eyes your leaking cunny oozing out his fat load and then tucks himself away. You don’t move- eyes heavy and cheeks rosy, chest moving with soft little pants as you try to catch your breath. You look like a dream like that- beautiful and tempting; a fucked out doll beckoning even more pleasure. Natsuo licks his lips as his gaze travels over you and he takes a deep, deep breath to try to bolster his self-control, reaches and fixes your panties so your weeping pussy is hidden from sight. “You okay?” Natsuo asks- voice soft and sweet and full of care. A quiet little noise leaves you and he has to hide a smile whenever you sit up- arms trembling and eyes blinking slowly, stupidly before you rub at them with a fist. “I’m...I’m okay,” you mumble- voice faint, drunk with sated pleasure. “Felt...felt good, nii-chan. Was so warm…” Natsuo hums and he smiles as you yawn, looks over you in satisfaction. You blink whenever he touches your face and he can see you practically melt as he pets your flushed cheek. So sweet. Such a good girl. “Why don’t you take a nap in Shoto’s room?” he suggests. “Just until he gets home.” You hum, face turning to nuzzle into his palm, and he takes that as compliance. Natsuo hesitates before sending you off, though, and licks his lips nervously as a bit of panic peeks up through his satiation. “Hey,” he says, voice just a bit louder to grab your attention. You blink over at him, face still so drowsy and sweet, and Natsuo takes a deep breath. “Don’t tell anyone about this,” he tells you- firm but trying to sound like the nice Natsuo-nii that you’ve always adored. Confusion blossoms over your cute little face and Natsuo swallows as you frown, as your brows furrow in puzzlement. “Why not?” you ask so very innocently. It’s cute, but he can’t quite appreciate it while nerves are jittering under his skin. “Because...because they might get jealous,” he lies- though that could be true as well. “And you might get in trouble with your sensei and your parents if they find out.” Your sleepy eyes widen a little at the thought of getting into trouble and Natsuo watches your frown grow, uneasiness creep over your frame. “I- I don’t wanna get in trouble,” you mumble, lip bitten and voice distressed. “I...I don’t want that.” Natsuo nods, relieved by your reaction, and he pets your cheek as you begin to fret over imagined scolding. “You won’t get in trouble if know one knows,” he reassures you. “You just can’t tell anyone, okay?” You squirm, still nervous and frowning, but you nod just the same, curl your fingers into your skirt. “I won’t tell anyone,” you swear, voice almost eager in its sincerity. “I promise!” Natsuo smiles at you and he feels you relax underneath his hand as he nods. “That’s a good girl,” he tells you and pats your cheek. You blink when he leans closer to you and Natsuo takes one last, stolen second to press his lips to yours. “Don’t tell anyone. And...and maybe some other day we can do this again- if you keep your promise, that is.” Your eyes widen at the thought and something wicked and pleased purrs in Natsuo’s chest when you flush and nod shyly, squirm in front of him like an eager little thing. He stands and he offers you a hand, helps you up from the floor. There’s one last pleased noise that leaves you whenever he graces the top of your head with a kiss and Natsuo hums before lightly swatting your tush and nudging you toward the hallway. “Go rest. And remember not to say anything to my brother.” You nod- cheeks flushed and the motion solemn- and Natsuo watches with a satisfied smile as you scamper toward Shoto’s room- legs wobbling and just a little splayed. Well. That was something. Natsuo’s smile twitches into a grin and he sighs in contentment as he flops down onto the couch, closes his eyes and thanks the gods for letting him indulge in such a forbidden temptation, for having you react like such a sweet, perfect little darling for him. Natsuo hardens a bit as he savors the memory of your honeyed insides and he hums as he reaches a hand to smooth over his cock, grins contentedly as his mind flashes through all the other things he needs to introduce you to. Maybe next time he’ll teach you how to swallow him down, suckle around his cock. Maybe he’ll have you wrap your soft hand around him, show you how he likes to be stroked. Maybe he’ll have you ride him until you’re exhausted and unable to move, helpless and easily flipped over to be fucked and filled again and again and again. There are so many things to look forward to. Natsuo smiles to himself and he quietly starts to plot how he can get the house to himself again, how he can coax your sweet, bumbling self into his bed.

[nat-20s]

Part 5 of Wonderful! Au. *boyband voice* banter’s back alright!

Also on AO3

~*~

Jon: Hello everyone, and welcome back to our regular format. If my husband being horribly soppy-

Martin:-hey!-

Jon: -turned you off the how, this should be a refreshing return to formula, though I can’t guarantee there won’t be further horrible soppiness-

Martin, performatively under his breath: -most people thought it was charming-

Jon: -as that tends to happen when one is recording with the love of their life. If last week’s episode is the only one that you like, too bad, I’m back in full form, and should be at least through the rest of the season.

Martin: This show doesn’t have seasons? Due to the whole lack of a narrative thing?

Jon: I was referring to spring.

Martin: Oh, right.

[A beat passes.]

Martin, flatly: Oh. Great goof hon.

Jon, smug: Thank you.

Jon, sincere: Also, before we get properly started, I did want to actually thank everyone who sent well wishes.

M artin: Yes! We got positively inundated with lovely messages, it definitely brightened both of our days. I would even say it was wonderful.

[Jon groans.]

Jon: I am..not proud of the energy we’ve created for this episode so far, and we haven’t even hit the small wonders. Speaking of, do you have a small wonder this week?

Martin: Mine’s bad action movies.

Jon: Really? I had no idea you even liked them, let alone consider them wonderful.

Martin: Okay, so, saying I like them is a bit of a misnomer? It’s more that I like what they can do more than the movies themselves?

Jon: Elaborate?

Martin: It probably comes as a surprise to no one that I’ve tried my hand at a fair amount of mindfulness and mediation techniques. I’ve found poetry and journaling have been helpful for actually processing life events and whatnot, but when it comes to giving your brain a hard wipe and reset, nothing is half as quick and effective as a shitty shoot-em-up. Somethings about 2 hours of cartoonish, pg-13 violence held together with the absolute loosest of plots brings me to a state of mental blankness that would make a monk jealous.

Jon: How have I never witnessed you doing this? When are you sneaking off to go see Micheal Tarantino or who ever films?

M artin: That’s definitely not the right name.

Jon: Martin, dear, I don’t care. And you’re dodging the question.

Martin, fond: I’m not dodging anything. Since apparently we’re getting into it, you haven’t caught me cavorting with a movie involving more explosions than character development lately because I haven’t been. Haven’t needed it, in recent years. Turns out when you’re not crushingly lonely and working a literal nightmare of job, there’s less of a drive to try and escape your own thoughts. Shocker, I know. Still, to anyone out there that feels like their brain is on fire, go try watching a fast and furious. Any of ‘em, it doesn’t matter. Or even better, Chronicles of Riddick. I can’t remember a single goddamn detail of that movie, which makes it perfect for what I’m talking about.

Jon: I have the strong feeling that th is is a “mileage may vary” scenario.

Martin: Well, yeah, that’s this whole podcast. Plus, I imagine that movies like this would cause more stress to someone who cares about, say, world-building or rules consistency.

Jon: I wonder who you could possibly be referring to.

Martin: It’s a purely hypothetical person, love, don’t worry about it. Any small wonders?

Jon: Yes! Particularly relevant to the last week, my small wonder is stripping the sheets from your bed when it’s been too long between washes.

Martin: How very specific. M ost people would just say ‘clean sheets’.

Jon: Well, for one, I’m fairly certain that we’ve already covered clean sheets-

Martin: Shit, have we? Thank god other people keep track of this, otherwise this show would be unbearably repetitive.

Jon: Christ, yes. I typically check the website a good three times while prepping, and every about one out of those three times I find I’m trying to do an topic we did 30 episodes again. Anyway, um, it’s just nice, I think. When you’ve been too busy or sick or away for awhile, tossing the sheets in the wash makes a room instantly seem nicer. Of all the chores out there, this one, at least for me, has the highest reward to effort ratio.

Martin: Hard agree. Especially when the y have that slight funk of having been around to long, getting rid of that is such a relief. Speaking of, we need to change our sheets soon.

Jon: We can do it after the episode. Who goes first this week?

Martin: Considering last week was only me talking, I’m gonna say it’s you.

Jon: Alright, then. My first thing this week is Martin K. Blackwood.

Martin: Absolutely not!

Jon: Oh, you can do a whole episode on me, but I can’t do one little segment on my husband, whom I love very dearly?

Martin: Not while I’m sat here, no!

Jon: So you’re saying you don’t want me to tell the internet that your resolve to be kind even in the face of indescribable cruelty is one of the mot breathtaking things I’ve ever witnessed, or how I find it incredibly endearing when you get so emotional that your voice comes out as a squeak, or even that, on a more base level, you’re very physically attractive, and I could lose entire days thinking about your arms alone?

Martin, audibly blushing, voice the aforementioned squeak: Oh my god, Jon!

Jon, laughing: Then it’s probably for the best that my actual first thing is best friends.

Martin, peaking the audio levels: Oh you absolute bastard! Do you enjoy this? Do you get some sort of perverse sense of entertainment from riling me up?

Jon: Oh, don’t you start. As if you’re not as bad as I am. Maybe even worse.

Martin: That’s not…

Jon: Yes?

Martin: Okay. Maybe it’s slightly true. Really, what is romance for if not flustering your partner with compliments?

Jon, teasing: I certainly can’t think of anything.

Martin: Hush, you.

Jon: No, I don’t think I will.

Martin: Fine. I suppose you can tell our delightful audience about the power of friendship or whatever.

Jon: I would’ve assumed more enthusiasm, considering this segment is still, indirectly, about you.

Martin: In what way?

Jon: In the way that, to the shock of all, you’re my best friend.

Martin, pleased: Oh, is that what I am?

Jon, exasperated: Yes, dearest husband, I wouldn’t have married you otherwise. Though, upon reflection, I knew you were my best friend before I knew I held romantic feelings for you.

Martin: When was that?

Jon, letting out a breath that vibrates his lips: God it was...2016? I think it might’ve literally been the day after you told me about your CV.

Martin: That early? Huh. I wonder if that’s what people were picking up when they said they we were close.

Jon: What people?

Martin: I don’t know specifically, that’s just what Daisy told me.

Jon: Daisy? When the hell-?

Martin: It...was when she was interrogating me? And, because sometimes I have to be a parody of myself, pretty much my only take away from that interrogation was “people think me and Jon are close”.

Jon: Well then. It’s not like they were wrong.

Martin, smug: No, no they weren’t.

Martin, sincere: And you’re my best friend, too.

Jon: I was certainly hoping that you’re in this relationship for more than my good looks and incredible fortune, both in the monetary and luck sense.

Martin: You say that as if you aren’t good looking, which we all know is patently untrue.

Jon: You’re biased. You’d say I was good looking if I were nothing more than some primordial ooze with thoughts about its station.

Martin: I’m being completely objective. If you were primordial ooze with thoughts above its station, you’d be the cutest ooze of them all. That’s just scientific fact.

Jon: I’m starting to think we might be insufferable.

Martin: Starting to? Might be?

Jon:…

[Jon clears his throat]

Jon: What I find wonderful about the concept of best friends is, to me, they’re the closest thing real life has to soulmates. I don’t personally believe that there’s some..grand mystic force that drives people to be tied together in the manner that narrative typical soulmates are, and if there was I don’t think it would necessarily be the kind of emotional, heartfelt bond one would hope for, but I do believe that there’s individuals that get to know one another, and because of that knowledge, they chose to stick with one another. It doesn’t have to be a romantic, which is why I say best friend rather than specifically ‘spouse’, but I would argue that the basis of a strong romance like you and I have, is very much rooted in that connection. A true best friendship is an equal partnership, and there’s a sense of..matched sensibilities and understanding that can be utterly incandescent when it happens.

I also think that having one or more best friends makes living life on a day to day basis both better and just flat easier. The dark times aren’t as dark, and the bright times shine even more. I know from my own personal experience there are events that I..that I don’t know how I would’ve made it through without you. Hell, last week my..recovery period would’ve taken much longer if you hadn’t been there.

It’s an amazing thing to have someone to share things with, both triumphs and burdens. Um, also, according to Dictionary.com, the term best friends in English has been around since the 1200s. Something about that delights me, like, yes, we’ve had this casual way of referring to a Favorite Person for roughly 800 years. That makes it a hold-out from early Middle English. I dunno, it’s one of those things that make me feel overall very charmed by humanity.

Martin, audibly smiling: No, yeah, hard agree.

Jon: What’s that look for?

Martin: Nothing. Just. I love you a whole lot, you know that?

Jon, voice soft: I may have heard you say that once or twice. Per hour.

Martin: Only that often? I really need to be more diligent about that.

[There’s a bet of silence, presumably where they’re making doe eyes at each other.]

Jon: What’s your first thing?

Martin: Oh, um, right. Rats!

Jon: The expression or the animal?

Martin: Jon, have you ever once heard me say “rats” as an expression? Obviously I’m referring to the animal.

Jon: Ah. Should’ve known, considering that what, a third?, of all your segments have been on animals.

Martin: Yeah? And? You got a problem with critters? With creatures? With lil guys?

Jon, laughing: No, no, it’s very sweet. I’m just surprised you never became a vet.

Martin: Oh believe me, I wanted to. But then I learned that it was not, in fact, a job composed entirely of getting paid to play with other people’s pets.

Jon: You had that job, though, didn’t you? I thought I remembered you mentioning a month long stint at a doggie day care.

Martin, sighing dreamily: Best job I ever had. Too bad that place was shut down after it was revealed to be a money laundering front.

Jon: Good lord.

Jon: Martin did you...did you know it was a money laundering front at the time?

Martin:

Martin: Would it make you feel better if I said no?

Jon: Martin!

Martin: I figured it out like a week in, but, like, who cares? The pay was decent and the floor was super easy to clean, which is very much a plus for even a front of a doggie day care.

Jon: That’s...rather a lot. How about instead of getting into that any further, you tell me about rodents.

Martin: I would love to. But first, we have a shoutout!

Jon: Ooo, a shoutout. Does it specify who should read?

Martin: Let me check. It...does...not…..

...

Jon: Martin?

[A beat.]

Martin: Right! Sorry, um. This week’s shoutout is from Tim, to Danny. It says, “Danny! My favorite person who shares genetic material with me! I wanted to say thank you for your podcast obsession from 4 months ago, and specifically for telling me about these marrieds. They’ve gotten me through many a dull hour at the publishing house. Also, with this shoutout, I’ve officially gotten ahead on the Superior [Last Name Redacted] Brother scoreboard, so suck it. Love you lots, and looking forward to your visit next month, Tim.”

Jon: Oh.

Jon: Um. That’s very..sweet? I think? Mostly?

Martin: Yeah, I’d say so. Uh. We have to take a quick break because, uh, someone is..at our front door! Be back with you all in, from your side of things, just a moment.

[fruitcoops]

It's been A Time TM lately and idk but some soft coops cuddles? If you would like? I know you've done a lot but maybe some on the road bus or plane soft coops? If not, that's okay! You're fics are just amazing and comforting! Sending love 💕 -🌼

I’m always down to write some Coops cuddles! This was such a fun prompt, Daisy, and I’ve combined it with a few others:

1. Re’s freckles fading

2. From @ravenclaw-reblogs: Coops being cute and the team’s reaction

3. Sirius and Leo friendship!

4. From @colored-rain: Re’s first away game

SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

“Who needs a weighted blanket, eh?” a low voice asked to Leo’s right. He glanced over and Sirius tilted his chin toward Logan, who was sprawled over the seat and fast asleep.

“Right,” Leo laughed softly. “I’ll share if you want one. There was a two for one deal I just couldn’t resist.”

Sirius laughed, then stifled it with his hand when Remus made a noise where he laid across his lap. “I appreciate the offer, rookie, but I’m a bit attached to mine.”

“Not a rookie anymore, Cap.”

“You’re always a rookie in my book.”

The bus went over a bump and Finn jolted half-awake when his chin smacked against his chest; Leo shushed him and guided his head to lay on his shoulder, looping an arm around his back. His spine was already suffering from the awkward lean, but it was worth it to feel the warmth and weight of both his boys on him. “How much time do we have? I don’t want to miss seeing the river.”

Sirius stopped tracing shapes on Remus’ arm to check the watch on his wrist, then sighed and leaned back against the seat. “Three more hours, so…maybe an hour until the river?”

“I missed the road trips.” Open highway rolled past and Leo began combing his fingers through Logan’s hair; it looked like melted chocolate in the mid-morning light as it spilled over his knuckles and joints. Beautiful, he thought to himself as Logan snuggled his face deeper into the fabric of his sweatshirt.

“Re’s never played an away game before,” Sirius said. “Got any tips?”

“Don’t need tips,” Remus mumbled without opening his eyes. “Been on roadies before.”

“Okay,” Sirius laughed, running a hand through his curls as Leo desperately tried to contain his snickering.

“Hey, rookie,” Leo whispered, poking Remus in the calf. “Rookie. Hey, rookie.”

A single caramel eye narrowed in his direction; Remus kicked his hand lightly. “Fuck off, ‘m tired.”

“That’s not very nice language, rookie.” Leo glanced up at Sirius with a grin and saw him press his forehead against the window while his shoulders shook.

Remus heaved a sigh and dragged Sirius’ arm back around his chest for a cuddle. “Remind me why I decided to join this team again?”

“You got tired of unloading pallets.” Sirius bent down to kiss his temple, then paused and frowned. “Your freckles are fading.”

“Not enough sun anymore. How do you know?”

“You’re missing one, right here.” Sirius tapped his cheekbone and a smile pulled at the side of Remus’ mouth.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Mhmm.”

Leo made eye contact with James, who put his hand over his heart and leaned back like he was in physical pain. So fucking cute, Leo mouthed.

James nodded, gesturing to Finn and Logan as he slid his headphones on. You, too.

Leo made half a heart symbol with his free hand and James winked before returning it. Sirius looked between them, then reached up and flicked the back of James’ head. “Don’t send secret messages without me!”

“Shh,” Remus and Finn grumbled at the same time.

“Sorry, baby,” Leo said around his smile, rubbing Finn’s shoulder. “Are you comfy?”

“Stop laughing, you’re too bouncy.”

“So demanding, aren’t they?” Sirius said with a dramatic sigh.

Leo rolled his eyes. “I know, right?”

“You two are horrible and mean and cruel,” Logan mumbled, reaching up blindly to smack Leo on the arm.

Remus tucked his knees up further. “What he said. Now, shush, people are trying to sleep.”

“I’m mourning the loss of your freckles, give me a break,” Sirius teased, sliding his thumb along Remus’ jaw.

“Mourn quieter.”

James nearly spit his water out, which set all of them off until Logan yanked his beanie down over his ears to get some peace and quiet; less than a minute later, Leo carefully slid it off and resumed running a hand through his fluffy hair. The contented hum he received assured him that was the right move.

Five minutes of relative silence passed—everyone was tired from the early wakeup call, and the coffee crash had kicked in half an hour prior. Leo felt Finn go boneless against his side when he finally drifted off, and Logan had turned into a veritable space heater of sleepy warmth over his thighs. He glanced back over at Sirius, who was still drawing lines between the speckles over Remus’ arms and neck.

“It’s like magic,” Leo said under his breath. Sirius looked over and he motioned to his boys. “How fast they can fall asleep. Takes me at least half an hour, usually.”

“It really is,” Sirius agreed. “Get some sleep, Knutty. We’ve got time to spare and I’ll let you know when we get to the river.”

Leo smiled and settled back against the seat, tucking his face into the side of Finn’s neck for an easier angle. “Aye, aye, Captain.”

[sabrinathe20somethingwitch]

Rivetra Week 2021

lol not me completely not knowing that Rivetra Week was happening THIS week and frantically trying to put something together. but on a more serious note, everyone in this fandom is so incredibly talented, I am in constant awe of all of you. always and forever, thank you for reading.

August 25th - Day 2: Jealousy

Levi had never considered himself to be a particularly possessive person. Sure, he had grown up in the pits of the Underground and he had learned how to protect what was his, how to prevent people from sticking their noses into his territory. He had established such a strong and deadly reputation for himself that once he arrived at the surface, there were few that dared to challenge him and his authority, especially when he had someone like Erwin at his side vouching for him. He didn’t want for much, he was used to surviving on next to nothing, he didn’t have many possessions to his name and besides, no one would dare to touch his things or even enter his room without permission anyways. He certainly wasn’t possessive of his friendships with others, if he could even call them that to begin with. He was protective of his squad in the sense that he didn’t want to see the shitty brats get devoured by titans, but they were free to do what they wanted otherwise. Really, he wasn’t a very possessive guy, he never had any reason to be. 

So he didn’t quite understand the strange feeling that had coiled tightly in his chest and the way that his blood seemed to boil beneath his skin when he saw one of the Garrison officers chatting up Petra. 

Levi had permitted his squad to have the day off, claiming that he needed to make a trip to the local market for supplies because “rations only give us the shit kind of everything anyway” when they had all agreed to join him. Begrudgingly, he had accepted. To be honest, the entire excursion into town didn’t end up being as bad as he had expected. He had found his tea, special soap, some extra cleaning supplies, and even a nice bottle of whiskey; he even considered sharing some with the rest of his squad later in the evening and they were just about ready to depart when the local flower stand had caught Petra’s eye. “They remind me of home,” she had said softly as she eyed the yellow chrysanthemums, a wistful look on her face, and she was quickly drawn to them, promising him that she would only be a moment. He had turned his back to get the horses, only a few minutes, but when he was just about to see what was taking her so long (“Oi, Ral, how long does it take to buy some fucking flowers?”), he was there. 

He was tall, blonde, radiating with boyish charm and wearing a goofy grin that made the captain want to sink his fist into his face for some unknown reason. His lips were moving, he was saying something to her, and Petra’s hand flew up to cover her mouth, but he could see the way her lips curled upwards at the corners, the way her shoulders shook slightly. She was giggling. Her face was flushed. Was she blushing too? Levi watched as the boy dug his hand into his pocket and pulled out a coin, pressing it into the vendor’s palm before plucking a flower at random, a daisy, from the bouquet. He reached forward, tucking it behind her ear, stepping closer to her.

Levi was pretty sure this bordered on sexual harassment.

Before he was even aware of what he was doing, he felt himself striding over to the pair with purpose, a murderous scowl etched across his features. Petra turned to greet him with a smile, but the boy didn’t even notice him at first, still staring at her with that stupid look on his face, before Levi cleared his throat, noticing with smug satisfaction how the boy sputtered violently, thumping a fist over his heart quickly.

“Captain Levi! I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t see you,” he squeaked.

“I can see that,” Levi said, a bite creeping into the edges of his voice. “Ral, it’s time to get going, c’mon.”

She laughed nervously, twisting a piece of hair between her fingers. “Sorry, Captain, I was just going to grab some flowers when I got to talking with-” She gestured to the boy beside her before she blinked in confusion. “I’m sorry, you didn’t even tell me your name.”

“Henri.” He nodded his head at her before turning to Levi, extending a hand. “Henri Augustine, sir. It’s an honor to meet you,” he said, flashing him a toothy grin.

Levi only glared in response and Henri slowly dropped his hand, wiping his palm against his trousers and glancing at Petra out of the corner of his eye.

He jerked his chin towards the horses. “Petra, let’s go.”

She nodded in agreement and offered Henri a small wave and a soft smile before the boy quickly snatched her wrist, tugging her towards him. “Petra, wait!”

Contrary to popular belief, Levi also didn’t consider himself to be an unnecessarily vengeful person; he only used the right amount of vengeance when the situation called for it. But when he saw the punk’s fingers close around her wrist, he prayed to whatever deity he could think of that a titan would wreak havoc through the marketplace and the little shit would become lunch.

Henri pulled her closer to his chest, far too close for Levi’s liking and far too close to be considered appropriate in public, and bent forward to whisper something into her ear. Levi couldn’t quite hear what he was saying, but he caught snippets of his words, something like “love to see you” and “keep in touch”. She was blushing furiously and it made his stomach churn. Violently.

He was just about ready to put an end to their little conversation and insist she come with him, they did need to make it back to the barracks before sundown, when the boy brought her fingers to his lips, giving the back of her hand a soft kiss.

Levi saw red.

Within an instant, he was beside her and shoving the soldier backwards. Henri stumbled for a moment, his arms flailing wildly, before recovering and staring at the captain in bewilderment. 

Levi seized Petra’s upper arm and began dragging her towards the horses. He knew that his grip was far too tight, but he didn’t care, choosing to ignore her hiss of pain.

“Captain - ow! - What’re you doing?!”

“We’re leaving,” he spat through a clenched jaw. “Now.” He spun her around, grabbing her hips and forcefully hoisting her onto her horse. She squeaked in surprise, her cheeks flushing bright red as she hastily adjusted herself across her saddle.

She tossed one last look over her shoulder at Henri, who still stood there seemingly petrified, and offered him a pitying glance before the bright yellow flowers caught her eye once more. 

“Wait, Captain! I didn’t get the flowers!”

“Tough shit, Ral.”

If she were standing on the ground, and feeling an extra bit childish, she would’ve stomped her foot in indignation. Instead, she gave a small huff, offering the captain a subtle lift of her middle finger behind his back and muttering curses under her breath before she joined the rest of her squad. The boys exchanged confused, and concerned, looks between them as Eld rode beside her, leaning in.

“Should I even ask what the hell happened?” he mumbled from the corner of his mouth.

“Nope,” Petra replied, popping her lips at the end of her word. 

Eld nodded tersely before shaking his head at Oluo and Gunther, imitating a slashing motion across his neck.

It was going to be a long ride home.

——————————

Petra had always known that she was a beautiful girl: she knew about the effect that she had on the men around her, how they would turn their heads when she entered a room. She knew that they found her desirable, something that her father had cautiously warned her about as she reached maturity and reminded her of as she enlisted in the military (“Really, Pet, the only girl in that entire squad?”). However, even though she was beautiful, she wasn’t a particularly feminine woman. Her brazen confidence, strength, and thirst for vengeance, coupled with her Scout uniform that was usually covered in blood and guts, had most men running for the hills before she could even introduce herself. It was alright, she reasoned; they weren’t worth her time anyway. Besides, she didn’t have time for romance, not when she was risking her life everyday for the sake of humanity. Still, she sometimes found herself daydreaming what it would be like to fall in love, get married, raise a family, like normal people do everyday, like she could do when the war ended. 

She flopped onto her bed, having retired for the evening and changed into her nightgown, twisting the nearly-forgotten daisy, the source of all her current woes, between her fingers and plucking the individual petals with a tad more force than necessary. She hadn’t actually been interested in Henri, he was far too tall and lanky for her taste. But for a brief moment, her heart had fluttered at the mere notion of loving someone and being loved in return, especially when the focus of her affections was being an absolute ass.

She groaned in frustration, rubbing at her temples as she pushed away from her pillow. She needed to talk to him, she needed to set a boundary and tell him that she didn’t need him rushing in to defend her honor like she was some sort of damsel, she could handle herself perfectly fine.

But when she opened her door, she nearly yelped in surprise to see the very person she needed to talk to was already standing in her doorway, his knuckles raised to rap against the door. He looked at her with a similar expression of shock before his face melted into his usual bored, impassive look and he quickly shifted something behind his back before Petra caught a glance of what it was.

“What’re you doing here?” he said in a low voice.

She gestured to the nameplate on her door. “This is my room.”

The tips of his ears burned red, the only sign of his apparent awkwardness. “…oh, yeah.”

She folded her arms across her chest, feigning nonchalance. “What do you want?” she asked. Her tone was dry.

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Is that how you want to talk to your commanding officer?”

Petra gave him a pointed look, pinching the bridge of her nose in exasperation, another habit of his that she had picked up. “What do you want, Captain?”

He swallowed audibly, she could practically see the knot that had wound itself in his throat. It confused her; in all the time that she had known him, she had never seen Levi quite so… nervous.

He threaded a hand through his hair. “I just, y’know, wanted to say that I’m-” He pressed a palm against his chest and grimaced, almost as if the words brought him physical pain. “I think I owe you, um… an apology… for today.” He scowled. “Even if that little shit was being a brat. And um, here, I guess.” He thrust something into her hands and Petra blinked once, then twice, then three times.

Yellow chrysanthemums.

“You said they reminded you of home, right?”

Flowers. He had given her flowers. Instantly, all of her anger and annoyance and frustration towards him seemed to melt away and an unfamiliar, yet pleasantly warm feeling swept into its place, pooling low into her gut and heating her from the inside out. 

“You never picked them up when we were in town so I doubled back and got them for you.”

He had gone all the way back into town for her. To get her flowers.

“Just don’t expect something like this ever again, Ral, because that vendor charged the fuck out of me, so if you want flowers, I’ll just go pull you some weeds from the forest next time-”

“Captain?”

She stepped closer to him until they were nearly touching and lifted up onto her toes, quickly placing a chaste kiss against his cheek, desperately hoping that he wasn’t close enough to hear the pounding of her heart against her sternum. His skin was surprisingly smooth beneath her lips, she noticed faintly, and she smiled softly at him. “Thank you,” she whispered, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks and fighting back a blush.

He nodded, muttering something under his breath akin to “get that shit in some water or it’ll dry out” before promptly bidding her goodnight. He turned on his heel, retreating quickly back to his office but not before he could notice, from the corner of his eye, her beaming smile, the kind of shit that lights up a room, as she stared down at his flowers. The sight brought a small smirk to his face and the tightly coiled tension in his chest that he had felt all day, ever since seeing that Garrison punk sidle up to her at the flower stand, finally unraveled, replaced by a faint stirring that made his heart beat just a little faster. 

Sometimes, being possessive paid off.

He noted that for next time.

[readingrobin]

Got a little summer readathon update for y'all. It's been a very productive reading month so far and I'm glad I'm really starting to hit hard on that TBR list.

Books Finished

The House in the Cerulean Sea by TJ Klune - This is my second time reading this book, though on this occasion I checked out the audiobook version. Some of the voices didn't match up to what I had in my head, naturally, with some being a little grating, but still the story was as comforting and soft as my first time experiencing it. (5/5)

The Library of the Dead by T.L. Huchu - I talked about this book in my tbrbuster post so I'll just say that I loved Ropa as a main character and I'm excited to see where she goes as a character, though there were some plot elements that did disappoint me, such as a sort of undefined nature of this post-apocalyptic setting and the underuse of the titular library. (3.5/5)

The Extraordinaries by TJ Klune - I found that this was an excellent book for me to just switch my brain off and enjoy. In a book full of superhero antics, there is a lot of dramatic irony surrounding the identities of the heroes, which is made all the more hilarious by the protagonist's complete obliviousness. Nick is probably one of the dumbest characters I've seen in a YA book, but I say that with a total love in my heart for this character. He's cringey, but in that same way we were all cringey at one point in high school with our own special interests and obsessions. Honestly, it was like staring in a mirror at some points. There is a sort of twist upon an obvious twist that happens, but I had my suspicions towards that as well. Going to continue with this series, though I was really surprised to see that book three is coming out next month? How was this not on my radar? (4/5)

Out of the Blue by Jason June - Just a really really cute queer story about a nonbinary merfolk coming to land to engage in #fakedating with an adorable, plus size lifeguard but THEN FALL IN LOVE FOR REAL. Again, a really good brain switchy off book that I always looked forward to coming back to. It has this mature ending that follows the lines of focusing on the identities we gain from loving and understanding other people and I don't really want to explain that or else we get into spoiler territory. (4/5)

Daisy Jones and the Six by Taylor Jenkins Reid - Really surprised I dug this one as much as I did since I often have such an odd relationship with books that typically get so much buzz. I love the whole concept of a story centered around a fictional 70s band that reads like a transcript of a "Behind the Music" documentary. It has the interesting challenging of trying to introduce and develop characters without the help of narration or conventional plot progression. Even with that, you get a really good sense of who these people are and the struggles they go through on their road to fame. Daisy Jones is a messy icon and I love her. (4/5)

The Wicked Deep by Shea Ernshaw - What started out as a really cool, ghostly and atmospheric mystery quickly turned into something a little more ho hum during the second half. There is a twist in the middle of the story that kind of makes the rest of the book seem uneventful in comparison. I really have mixed feelings about the ending, regarding character motivations and just some odd implications in general, but yeh, spoilers. (3.5/5)

My Last Summer with Cass by Mark Crilley - A nice and richly illustrated graphic novel about friendship and what we're willing to do to make sure it survives even the harshest of situations. The art style has a rough, sketchy style that I always enjoy, and since it takes place mostly in New York, it captures the spirit of the city so well. If you're any kind of artist I definitely recommend picking this one up, as it follows two childhood friend artists trying to discover their styles, especially in how they work together and how they differ. (4.5/5)

Daughter of the Pirate King by Tricia Levenseller - Seeing as how I constantly see this book recommended when it comes to pirate fiction, I was a little bit let down. I didn't really find Alosa all that engaging of a character. Everything seemed to come so easily to her and, sure that gets explained later in the book, but it doesn't change the fact that it makes for a boring read and ultimately fails to make any sort of tension or sense of investment. The romance was very uninspired, I didn't even believe that these two actually liked each other and it wasn't all just some big ploy. The book doesn't even feel like it has an end, as it's just the first part in a longer story, but I'm not exactly rushing to see how it all shakes out. (2/5)

Currently Reading

Iron Widow by Xiran Jay Zhao

Good Omens (reread) by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett

To Be Read

The Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation by Mò Xiāng Tóng Xiù

How to Fracture a Fairy Tale by Jane Yolen

The Last House on Needless Street by Catriona Ward

[weasleyshungry]

The Hufflepuff Aesthetic

Friends. Loyalty. Justice. Truth. These are the things Hufflepuffs hold closest to their hearts.

Things associated with Hufflepuffs: beautiful smiles. bright summer and spring days. picnics. honeybees. real, natural honey. vines. lemons. dragonflies. homemade jam and lemonade. gardening. putting lots of effort into everything. holding hands. pure white clouds. everything yellow. sunflowers. overalls. daisies. kittens. puppies. pretty much any baby animal.  angel wings. equality. outgoing nature. sweet tea. flower crowns. soft and oversized sweaters. handmade crafts. every. houseplant. ever. the sun’s rays beaming through the windows in the mornings and late evenings. light blue jeans. that one friend that waits for you while you tie your shoelaces. standing up for someone getting bullied because it’s the right thing to do. wearing friendship necklaces/bracelets. a love for history and herbology. always understanding and empathetic. chewed pencils. clumsiness. feeling confident about their outward appearance. telling someone if they think what they’re doing isn’t right. pinecones. never letting dark thoughts or influences affect them. floral dresses. sneakers. cake and, well, just about every sweet there is. braids. watching the sunset with the one they love most. old, worn, antique junk for collecting. “killing with kindness.” jumping in leaf piles. hide and go seek outside. bicycles. quiet giggling. being generally better with animals or plants than with people. rotting logs. being scared of monsters in youth (and secretly in adulthood). not getting mad at a friend when they mess up, but instead comforting them with a tight hug and whispering, “it’s okay.” good-natured fun. very protective of their loved ones. developing crushes on nearly anyone that is nice to them. dancing with their best friend/significant other. being genuinely happy when someone compliments them. a love for travel. being head boy/girl. painting their skin/clothes. the silver lining. dressing only in clothes they are comfortable in. sewing/knitting. black t-shirts, but every other clothing item is colorful. people often think them stupid, it’s just the opposite. forgetting to use magic sometimes (especially if half-blood/muggleborn). getting small tattoos of their loved ones’ names. “the golden rule.”

some pictures I feel are fitting: 

(note that this is my personal view of what hufflepuff house represents and/or its vibe! this will not apply to all hufflepuffs, so do not be disheartened if most of this does not fit your personality or opinion! you are just as valid as any other hufflepuff!)