#and wears her heart on her sleeve and has the best sense of humour and who isn't confident but picks herself up anyway

[glitterslag]

nelly from bake off the woman that you are

[netegf]

Hate It When You Leave

pairing: f!reader x rafe cameron

plot: you are trying to cope with the fact that you're hopelessly in love with your best friend. he's trying to cope with the fact that you don't go after the things you want... including him.

warnings: 18+, best friends to lovers trope, use of Y/N, mentions of alcohol and past drug use, non-graphic references to violence, some angst & jealousy, fluff and smut (public sex, teasing, oral female receiving)

word count: 6.5 k

There are parts about wearing your heart on your sleeve that no one ever talks about.

For instance, that it's hard to fix your face when the threads keeping that heart together feel like they're getting tugged, cut, and re-bunched into an ugly knot. 

The water bottle you're holding hardly has any life left. Even Kelce comments as much when he rounds his kitchen island, limbs swinging and loose thanks to the red Solo cup in his hand. He takes one look at the tight smile on your lips and tilts his head to the side, fingers twitching upward to your chin as he turns your head to face him. 

"What's going on in that pretty head of yours?" He asks, voice a little slurred, but thick with concern.

That was Kelce. Polarizingly good at getting to what someone was hiding underneath. 

But appearances went a long way for him. And he was so agreeable, it made him easy to lie to. Especially when he and Topper had practically begged you to come to this party, his first one since graduating college. Everyone would be there, he'd said.

And he was right, they were. 

"Nothing, Kels, it's just my stomach being a little funny." You tell him with a renewed sense of enthusiasm. You gaze at him warmly and quirk a brow, smiling genuinely. "How do you always know?"

"We've known each other our whole lives!" He barks in a laugh. "There's nothing I don't know about you."

You feel your heart squeeze again, like there's a too-tight belt around it. But you humour him with a sweet giggle and convinced nod, and it's all Kelce needs before he's walking away to mingle with another. 

How shocked he'd be to know that there was something you were hiding. 

You keep the water bottle you're holding close to your body as if it would fall straight out of your hands otherwise. When you watch the brunette seated next to Rafe on the couch squeeze his bicep again, you think it might just fall anyway. 

Some things don't change. 

The sun goes up and down. The moon makes a nightly appearance. Kelce never dresses for the weather. Topper claims everyone else is cheating when he loses. 

You love Rafe Cameron.

"Fucking sucks, doesn't it?" A voice rings next to you.

You slowly turn your head from where you're sitting on the kitchen island to see a familiar face lounging on one of the high-chairs. 

Topper, apparently, had always had an inkling. 

"I don't know what you're talking about, Top." You grumble, casting your eyes away from the blonde protagonist of most of your dreams. Some of your nightmares, too. 

You watch as Topper rolls his eyes without so much as glancing at you, a small scoff escaping his lips. He takes a hearty sip from his cup of brown liquid. Tracking his eye-line, you're unsurprised to find that he's staring wistfully at the very same blonde's sister. 

Sarah Cameron is dancing in the corner of the room with John B., her boyfriend. 

A Pogue at a Kook party... the thought still makes you skeptical.

Not because you didn't like John B., or more accurately, like him for Sarah. But because a few short years ago, all this seemed entirely impossible.

Nonetheless, Sarah was important to all of you. 

And, like she'd said, Rafe listened to you better than he did anyone else.

When you explained to him how smitten his sister was with the boy, and considering how their relationship had endured far past those murmurings of 'young love' to, what was at this point, years together, he'd begun to understand that John B. wasn't going anywhere. 

Much to Topper's devastation. 

He promised he was over her, and he dated like it, too. But there were those moments where he had a few drinks in him and it made you think otherwise. 

"Oh, okay. My fault." Topper replies sarcastically, downing what's left in his cup and finally turning away from the couple he's burning holes through. "I thought we were being honest."

"I am being honest."

He glances at you sharply. 

"Uh huh. Hey, don't freak out, but, your nose is like, growing really long. Never seen anything like it before. It's like in that movie! What's it called, again? Puppet boy? No, that can't be right..."

"Very funny, Topper." You say dryly, but the hint of a smile on your lips sells you out and he chuckles next to you. 

"I was thinking Pinocchio." He fake recalls, nudging your elbow. 

This time, you laugh with your chest, and when you lift your head up to take it all in again, your eyes meet familiar blue ones from across Kelce's living room.

By now, you know how to mediate the warmth that blooms at the base of your spine and consumes you completely. 

There's a comfortable silence between the two of you before Topper starts speaking again. 

"You know he would do anything for you, right?" 

You chew on your bottom lip, still holding eye contact with Rafe who gives you a crooked smile. The girl next to him leans in to whisper something in his ear. He keeps looking at you. 

"Yeah, I know." You mumble half-heartedly. "I just feel like I might need to cut my losses at this point." 

Topper frowns for a moment, then stands up from his seat. 

"Well, you suit yourself." He pinches your cheek affectionately. "Because I, for one, want to crash and burn."

You snort at Topper's words and just as quickly watch him round the kitchen counter to grab another drink. 

Preoccupied with the way he extends that gesture to you, fixing some gross concoction of different sodas for you to sip on, a shiver rolls over your skin when it feels like Rafe's smouldering eyes are still lighting a fire on your face. 

Aron Andersen is a douche, but he means well. 

At least, that's the excuse you aways placate Rafe with when Aron inevitably runs his mouth, the blonde's fists tightening nearly every time in conjunction.

Typically, you opt for the pacifist approach because blood is a bitch to clean, Rafe whines when you clean him up with saline, and frankly, Aron isn't worth it.

But tonight, he seems to enjoy testing your threshold for patience like no one else before him. 

You suppose he's not entirely to blame. Kelce makes his drinks strong, and half of Figure 8 is sucking up all the oxygen in the room.

Maybe that was why Rafe had almost swung on John B. only a few minutes prior, claiming the younger man was feeding his sister lies about him. Perhaps it was just one of those nights. 

Still, you sigh when Aron drunkenly makes his way over to your new spot in the backyard, and press your lips tight together when he shoves a beer in your direction.  

"I'm not drinking tonight, Aron." You tell him plainly. 

Aron haphazardly plops down into the lounge chair next to you with his glossy, red eyes narrowing.

He grudgingly pulls the beer back from you and takes a sip that pools around the sides of his mouth, then drains down his throat slow and loud. 

"That sucks. You're more fun when you do." He scoffs.

Your mouth falls open as the words leave his lips, head spinning to meet his annoyed gaze. The faraway look in his eyes makes you gulp.

In no particular mood to be berated, you have half a mind to scoff back and get up to leave. But there's something about the way he speaks completely unadulterated that keeps your body locked in place.

Like you're dying to know what someone really thinks of you.

"Why not?" He presses, gesturing with his finger accusingly. 

"I'm driving."

He continues to stare at you blankly.

"I'm driving." You reiterate, irritation seeping into your tone. "And drunk driving is illegal, Aron. You do know that, right?"

Unintentionally, your eyes flicker to a slightly rowdy and staggering Topper across the room. Aron zeroes in on that and rolls his eyes emphatically. 

"Now it makes sense. You're taking your boyfriends home." He pitches the word in a scornful taunt, squinting over your shoulder. "Where is Cameron, anyway?"

You feel your heartbeat rage in your chest, tongue numb and mind in disarray. 

"Don't be a dick, Aron. They're my friends." You bristle. But he seems unfazed, lazily quirking an eyebrow. 

"Please don't tell me you're that stupid, Y/N. Friends?" He laughs obnoxiously. "I get you're in love with the guy, but you run around for them like a maid. You ask me, the least you should be getting out of it is a good fuck."

Your fingers twitch at your side as you shoot up from your seat, really and truly considering that pouring his beer over his head might be the best option.

Given that Aron routinely takes up two parking spots to park his Range Rover and cheats on his girlfriends, you think it might be a long time coming. 

His words hurt for more than one reason. Of course, because he'd sooner die than recognize that you very much could maintain a healthy, platonic, and meaningful relationship with your friends of over a decade.

But also because, when it came to Rafe, he was goading you with a kind of intimacy you knew you'd never be able to access. At least not in the way you wanted. 

When a firm hand grips Aron's shoulder strongly and whips his body around, you soon realize you don't have to resort to such a physical display. 

While it was true that Rafe's face didn't make him look particularly kind, he'd only been seriously pissed off, to the point that his stomach felt like caving in on itself, a few times. Like in those months right after he'd graduated high school and felt like a big question mark. Every time his dad looked at him disapprovingly, it affirmed that sinking feeling in him, and he learned that he sometimes articulated his sadness in anger.

These days when he's mad, he mulls the feeling over a few times in the interest of scraping for another feeling underneath. 

Now, though, all Rafe feels when he meets Aron's arrogance with an intensity of his own, is unbridled rage. 

"What the fuck did you just say?"

Rafe speaks at a low register that makes your breath quicken. His movements are a little clumsy, blue eyes slightly glazed over, and his dirty blonde hair kisses his forehead that's speckled with sweat. Cheeks dusted red in that way that you love, more prominent when he's inebriated.

His fingers are still pressing harshly into Aron's shoulder, pressure concentrated and steady if the way he winces is any indication. For a second, his eyes flit over to you and the frown on your face, and they begin to soften. But then Aron is sputtering and stealing his attention and he hates him all over again for it. 

"My bad, bro." Aron offers lamely, hands jutting upward in surrender. He attempts to step away, but Rafe keeps him locked there. 

"Yeah, it's your fucking bad, bro." Rafe sneers.

He roughly shoves Aron backwards as he lets go of him and the man quickly scurries away knowing that if he sticks around, Rafe will probably force him through clenched teeth to apologize to you.

You feel your heart hammering in your chest for a different reason.

Your mind is trapped in a loop, repeating every word you said to Aron over and over again, wondering how incriminating they were, and debating how much exactly Rafe had heard.

And if he had, if he was coherent enough to either dismiss or believe the accusation that you loved him. No, not love, you shudder... in love. Aron had said, verbatim, that you were in love with him. 

"I would've handled it." You mumble with your arms crossed over your chest.

Rafe sighs as he turns his body to face you, rubbing a hand over his jaw, now partially relieved of the tension it was holding. He chews on his bottom lip cautiously, like it'll help break the fall of the words bound to spill out of his mouth, a little too unrestrained in his drunk state for his liking. 

"I know that." He nods slowly. "I just wanted to help to help you... handle it."

He stumbles a little as he moves toward you and you instinctively wrap an arm behind his torso, holding him against your body as a human splint. 

"Plus, I kinda have a reputation going for me. No one's losing their shit if I fight a guy."

"Or two." You say pointedly, thinking about his almost altercation with John B. earlier in the night. 

Rafe buries his head into your shoulder, groaning loudly into the bare skin as it heats up and vibrates. 

"Fuck, not you, too."

He lifts his head up to continue, and you lug his body towards the living room where you spot Topper talking with Kelce and some others. Without speaking, Topper seems to understand what you're saying, nodding then pointing to himself followed by the stairs. 

He'd driven you to Kelce's and you promised to stay sober and drive him back home. But now, it seemed like the plan was going to shift.

Topper would stay the night at Kelce's and take his car back in the morning. You would take Rafe's truck back to his place and walk the rest of the way. You were practically neighbours, anyway. 

"If she wants to talk shit about me to her boyfriend, that's one thing. But him, talking shit about me, to her? What's he trying to do? Turn my own sister against me?" 

"I get it, Rafe. I really do." You nod, an amused smile on your lips as you tug him out of the front door and towards his truck. "But you promised Sarah you'd be nice, remember?"

"I am being nice." He protests with his hands tapping at his chest. "I didn't even fucking touch him."

You scoff lightly as you strap Rafe in his passenger seat, noting the way his eyes begin to flutter shut. Humming softly, you poke a cold finger at his cheek and watch as they blink open again. 

"I'm taking you home, okay?" You murmur gently. 

"No!" He objects, large hand circling your wrist. He rubs his forehead with the other one, trying to remember something. "Got a meeting in the morning. Ward is gonna flip if he thinks I've been out all night fucking around."

You look at him uncertainly, waiting for the thing that you don’t want him to say, but know he will.

"Your house? Please?"

There was a time when sleepovers with Rafe were a common practice. Sometimes, after parties like this, with Kelce and Topper.

Other times when you convinced the boys to binge a new movie or TV series, usually ending with at least two of them falling asleep. Rafe made a habit of grumbling his critiques of the things he watched, but always stayed up with you. 

For a while, when he hit an especially rough patch with his dad and spent more nights than he would've liked getting high out of his mind.

As much as he'd tried not to pull anybody else into it, he found himself seeking comfort in the warmth of your bed. It helped that you always received him with open arms, even when his early morning phone calls were disorienting and he cried silently into your shirt in the hours after. 

Those nights felt so distant, and yet, like you could touch them if you reached out just far enough.

Rafe had girlfriends on and off, and sometimes that version of him felt like a stranger. You felt a strange pity for yourself when you realized that it might've been a good thing. That he was getting better and without falling back on a crutch, even if that crutch was you. Suddenly, him sleeping at your house felt weird and misplaced more than anything else. 

"I don't know, Rafe...," you begin to trail off, but the blue desperation in his eyes makes you reconsider. He's still holding tenderly at your wrist. "Fine. But if you puke on my sheets, you're done. Do you hear me?" 

Whether or not Rafe hears you is unclear, but you take the delirious smile forming on his lips as a non-verbal affirmation. He huffs out a long breath as if he can feel himself finally relaxing. His eyes start to close again, too, as you start his truck and drive the short way to your house. 

"Don't even think about falling asleep on me, Cameron. I am not lugging you up the stairs."

"You're strong." He reasons smoothly, lids still shut as he smirks. "You were about to deck the shit out of Aron Andersen when I found you."

Getting Rafe up to your bedroom goes better than you'd imagined, now with a few years of experience under your belt. 

You get him to sit down on your bed, and he fiddles with the items on your nightstand while you rummage through your armoire for an old pair of his pajamas. He complains when you throw him a pair of sweatpants and a sports t-shirt he used to wear in junior high, claiming that it'd be too tight over his arms and chest.

Plus, he'd added, it was far too hot to be wearing a shirt, anyway. 

"I love these." 

Changing into sweats of your own, you exit the bathroom to find Rafe sitting up in your bed, part of his bare torso obscured by your white sheets. His attention is fixed on a small group of rings on your bedside table, silver and gold hues reflecting under the dull rays of your lamp.

He slowly picks one up.

"Yeah, I'd hope so." You snort, tentatively slipping into bed next to him and painfully aware of the sorry excuse for space between you. "You got them all for me... kook."

Rafe cracks a sleepy smile, rolling his eyes playfully.

"You wouldn't tell me which one you wanted." He shrugs like it's the simplest thing in the world. 

He sets the ring back on the table and switches off your lamp, blanketing the room in a stroke of darkness. Rafe lies on his back and you opt to turn to your side, facing the wall.

Looking at his face only a few inches away from yours, when he's about to sleep in your bed, feels like it will be too much. 

"Asking for what you want is weird, Rafe. Nobody likes it."

You chew on your bottom lip in the dark.

"I do." He says in a scoff that turns into a yawn. "How else is anyone gonna know? People don't usually stop you and beg to find out."

You swallow roughly. That was true enough, they didn't.

But Rafe did. He always did. You revered him for it.

There's a long silence between you and all that echoes against the wood framing of your bed are the heavy and sometimes irregular sounds of your and Rafe's breathing.

Against your better judgement, you think he might've fallen asleep and almost turn around to check. 

"Is it me?" He asks quietly, voice scratchy with exhaustion. "... what you want?"

You feel your shaky breath hitch in your throat. 

"Because if it is... you don't have to ask."

His words linger in the air for as long as it takes your wildly beating hard to calm down.

By the time your body regains some feeling, the sound of Rafe's soft snores pierce the oddly crisp air clouding your room, and the choice to unpack what he said right now, or in the morning, is made for you. 

A shiver runs down from the nape of your neck to the tips of yours toes. 

Rafe is gone by the time you wake up.

The harsh but comforting sound of rain clangs against your roof, and you stretch your limbs to the thought of a cloudy and obscure summer day. 

It's better this way, you think. The absence of Rafe's warmth next to you would feel worse if the sun was shining, teasing. 

Your fingers play underneath your comforter to locate your phone. Scrolling through your notifications, you frown seeing that none of them are from Rafe.

In his defense, it was only about 9AM now, and he'd probably just had enough time to take a quick shower, get himself the smallest bit presentable, and still barely make it to his meeting with a client.

The used bathroom towel in your hamper and flannel pajama pants hastily thrown on his side of the bed are compelling indicators. 

In his defense, he was drunk, and there was no telling if he remembered anything about last night. 

Drowsy proclamations of desire and confession, included. 

You wrestle with the idea of calling him and letting it all spill out.

Kissing him on your front lawn, in the rain, with dewy blades of grass nipping at your feet. Hands threading through his wet hair and tugging, hungrily, because you're starving and happy, and these are liberties you can afford in imagination.  

But you settle on seeing him later tonight, in person. It's your dad's charity after all. 

"I just wish you would have told me earlier." Your disappointed words hang in the air for a few moments as you play with the hem of your silky baby blue dress.

Your father had mentioned to you once before that his new business partner had a son about your age, newly graduated from UC Irvine. 

He hadn't mentioned, though, that this mystery guy would be attending the charity tonight, and he'd offered you up as his own personal tour guide.

Your father hadn't used the word date explicitly, but that's what it felt like when you were handed an odd-smelling bouquet of flowers, standing awkwardly next to the brunette who you were apparently to keep the company of all night, though he might as well have been a stranger. 

Daniel was nice enough.

He complimented your dress and your makeup, smiled and pulled out your chair before you sat down at your assigned table.

But it felt weird accepting praise and chivalry from him when your heart was busy beating erratically at the simple thought that your dress matched Rafe's eyes.  

The venue is extravagant like it always is, what with it's elaborate crystal chandeliers, ice sculptures, and floral center pieces larger than your head. 

At your table, you note your and Daniel's name cards labeling your seats. Next to them, are Topper, Kelce, and Rafe's. There's a sixth seat that has no label and you tilt your head to the side thoughtfully, considering that Topper or Kelce must be bringing a date. 

"This place is incredible. Your dad is so impressive." Daniel says in awe from the seat next to you. His eyes trail around the room, wide in amazement, reflecting back all the vibrant lights in the brown of his pupils.

You smile weakly at him, tucking a strand of loose hair behind your ear that always seems to take flight despite your attention to detail.

"Yeah, he's really something. Likes to orchestrate a big show. You should see him at the winter ball. Live doves, and everything." 

Daniel nods, moving on to say something that starts to sound unintelligible when something else piques your interest. Someone else. Multiple someones, entering the banquet hall. 

Craning your neck, you make out Topper and Rafe. And a girl. 

No. Topper... and Rafe and a girl. She has her arm tucked around Rafe's as he escorts her in the direction of your table. He's wearing the grey tux you like, the one he wore to Rose's sister's wedding with the ornate thread detailing. His smile makes the two halves of your heart squeeze together. 

"Hey, you okay? You're squeezing that wine glass pretty tight there."

Daniel likely means well, eyeing the way your fist clenches around the stem of the glass you've yet to take a sip from. You shoot him an embarrassed smile and release your straining fingers.

An emotional support water bottle sounds like it would be really nice right now. 

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little nervous... my dad always gives a speech at these things." You explain.

As the trio begins to approach, you realize it's Shelley Thompson gripping Rafe's arm, a sweet girl you knew from the Kook Academy.

Even now, she always waves when you run into her at the Island Club, and she has a swing on the golf course like no other.

She's a good match for Rafe. You hate to admit it, but it's true.

When Daniel speaks again, you can barely hear him.

"I'm sure you have nothing to worry about." Daniel chuckles. "I have a hard time imagining that your dad would be bad at anything..."

Topper, having heard the tail-end of your conversation, plunks himself down in the chair across from yours and rubs his forehead tiredly. You shudder at the way he smiles empathetically at you. Like there's something to be consoled about. 

"Hangover?" You ask, shoving the shaky feeling down and shooting him a teasing smirk.

He groans loudly and buries his face in his hands.

"That's the understatement of the year. Feels like I'm getting my skull bashed in." He mutters through the skin, then he peels his head away and grimaces at the screechy music being played. If there was one thing your dad was bad it, it was decent music taste. Topper laughs heartily, shaking his head. "Then again, maybe I am." 

The lightheartedness is interrupted for a moment as Rafe and Shelley pull up to the table, taking their seats accordingly. Rafe rakes his eyes over Daniel for a few seconds, but otherwise stays silent and it makes you frown. You look at him, desperately trying to uncover if he remembers any details from last night, but his expression is unreadable.

Shelley, on the other hand, grins at you enthusiastically and starts to chat with you about the time she interned at your dad's company. 

You find yourself glancing at Rafe every so often, each time catching him staring blankly ahead or at his lap, and always fidgeting with his fingers. 

"Who's this?" He asks suddenly, nodding his head at the man next to you. 

"Oh." You swallow. "This is Daniel."

Finding that insufficient, Daniel takes it as an opportunity to formally introduce himself. 

"That's me." Daniel waves sheepishly, gently squeezing your shoulder with his other hand. "Y/N's been showing me around. Well, her and her dad. I really love what Mr. Y/L/N's been doing with his company. He does some incredible work out here. It's not often that you see-,"

Topper snickers when he cuts him off. 

"Maybe he should've been your date."

Daniel laughs it off, blushing slightly and concealing it in a short cough. But you kick Topper under the table in retaliation, ignoring the way he holds his shin and groans out a soft "Ow!". 

After that, Shelley, Topper, and Daniel divulge into conversation, shifting from topic to topic and at some points, sharing boisterous laughs together.

Rafe keeps his lips pressed together and his words concise. While you fiddle with your utensils, you feel his eyes on you, igniting heat under your skin. 

He stares at you hard, like he's waiting for you to say something. Begging, even, with the way his forehead tenses and his brow stays quirked.

But you didn't know what to say.

Or maybe you didn't know how to say it. Especially not here. Especially not when he had a date. 

Rafe rolls his eyes and chews on the inside of his cheek, standing from the table abruptly, the movement making the cutlery tremble.

"Hey, I have an idea." He says while tugging on Shelley's hand. "Let's dance."

You watch as Shelley squeals with excitement, jumping from her seat to follow Rafe towards the center of the large room where the music is playing. 

"Couldn't pay me to get closer to that band." Topper mumbles offhandedly. You're sure he's trying to make it sting less, but some pains don't have a perfect antidote. 

Daniel sends you a look, silently asking if you want to join them. 

"Maybe later." You reply quietly. 

Watching Rafe wrap his arm around Shelley's waist, you feel your heart sink slowly into your stomach.

In the middle of Daniel's rambling and Topper's occasional acknowledging hums, you rise from your seat and stumble into the courtyard for some fresh air.

Surely, your heart would keep sinking if you saw any more, and your heels were too tight to fit anything else. 

The courtyard is a beautiful mix of greenery, fairy lights, and concrete statues, but it does little to ease the ache in your chest. You sit on a stone bench and try to control your breathing with your head between your knees. 

Though it's turbulent and shallow at best.

"What's wrong?"

You know it's Rafe without looking up. Sighing into the palms of your hand, you slide them down from your face and lift your head up. Surely, your makeup is smudged, and the thought makes you more miserable.

"Nothing." You say more sharply than you intended. "Nothing's wrong. Just go away, Rafe."

He looks at you completely scandalized. 

"Are you... mad at me?"

You let out a deep breathe, averting your gaze to the ground as you collect yourself. "No, I'm not mad. Why would I be mad?"

Rafe scoffs, entirely unconvinced. He rakes a hand through his hair in frustration. 

"Well, fuck, if this is 'not mad', then I don't want to see what mad looks like." 

"Can you just drop it? Please, Rafe? Drop it?" You beg, sniffling slightly as you stand. You hadn't noticed when your cheeks started to get wet. Likely too much in denial.

Despite the way it's honoured you in the past, crying was offering no release at this point. It's not like any of this was Rafe's fault. Even if he had gotten your hopes up last night, he wasn't obligated to act on drunken pillow talk. Maybe he hadn't meant it in the first place and was only trying to make you feel better.

"You won't talk to me." He says sadly.

You bite down on every explanation you want to give him. Chest pain heavy and unrelenting.

"Just... go back to Shelley, Rafe. She's probably waiting for you."

Rafe looks puzzled when the words fall weakly out of your mouth.

Then, he nods, like something finally clicks for him. He meets your eyes with fervor as he presses his lips together.

"So, this is about Shelley?" He asks.

Your head hangs and silence intensifies between you. It speaks for itself.

"The same Shelley that's been fucking Kelce on and off for the past two years?"

He watches your mouth fall open and eyebrows furrow, continuing as you stare at him.

"Kelce promised to take her out on a real date, but then he got caught up at work... asked me to keep Shelley company until he showed up. We didn't come here together, together, Y/N. I thought you knew that." 

Your mind buzzes as he speaks, bottom lip wedged under your teeth.

So, he wasn't here with Shelley. And he probably did remember both what he heard and said last night if he could recognize that you were jealous.

Jealous. It makes you squeeze your eyes shut. The feeling was always two-fold. A person would feel jealous, then humiliated that they had. You don't know which one is worse.

You peak an eye open, chewing through your words. "Why couldn't Topper do it?" 

"Have you met Topper?"

That was a good point. 

Still reeling from the new information, you look down at your lap pensively.

"But you did." Rafe begins after a few beats of silence. When you frown in confusion, he clarifies. "... come here with someone."

You crane your neck up to look at him. There's something you can't place in his eyes, but it's cloudy and all-consuming. His hair is a mess from the way he's been ruffling through it, and his cheeks are flushed and tight.

"What, Daniel? Are you kidding me? I only brought him because my dad ask-," you begin to explain, but Rafe cuts you off. 

"I don’t care why he thinks he can touch you. I just want him to stop.”

Despite the small gust of wind that blows past you both, you feel a warmth at the base of your neck... in the palms of your hands. Maybe it was the beams of light overhead, illuminating your bodies amidst the greenery.

Or, maybe it was just Rafe's words.

The intensity of his gaze. The way he steps towards you as he speaks them, warm hand eventually reaching out to graze over your cheek in a way that makes you gasp in a mixture of shock and excitement. 

For a moment, you think about yourself and the many soul-crushing nights spent watching Rafe talk to and touch and kiss other people, the overlapping visuals making you queasy. 

"I know the feeling." You say quietly, hot breath fanning over his face.

Rafe frowns a little, soaking up the meaning of your words. He nudges his face closer to yours, until your noses are touching and his lips just barely graze over the pair he desperately wants to taste. He draws back suddenly, suspending all the air in your lungs. 

He eyes you cautiously, challenging silently as he licks his lips.

"Not gonna do anything unless you ask." 

You nearly cry out in response. "Rafe, please. I... I want you." Ignoring the way your desperation makes your skin feel tingly and your head spin, you shut your eyes tightly, realizing that only really skimmed the surface. You try again, gulping. "I've always wanted you."

"Fuck." He breathes out, eyes fluttering shut. "Never stop saying that." 

Stifling the sound of another whine from your lips, Rafe kisses you feverishly.

He moves his soft lips in tandem with yours, swallowing each of your breathy moans. One of his hands traces over the swell of your jaw while the other stretches tenderly around your throat. "Know what I wanted to do when I saw you sitting there next to him?" 

You nearly scream in protest when Rafe pulls his lips off yours, but fall silent when he trails kisses down from your jaw to your neck and collarbones, sloppily sucking the skin then laving his tongue over the afflicted areas. Unsatisfied until your pushing his head away from the sensitivity. 

"Wanted to knock his fucking teeth out." He murmurs with his head buried in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent and leaving searing kisses. "But I don't do that shit anymore. So I'll ruin his night a different way."

Rafe moves your body with his until the backs of your knees hit the concrete bench. Your mouth falls open as he sits you down on it, kneeling in front of you. He presses a ticklish kiss to your knee and his bright blue eyes peer up at you through his lashes. When you nod, he parts your thighs and pulls your panties down in a single unbroken movement, committing every second to memory.

He stares longer than he should, groaning at the way your wetness collects on his finger when he traces a finger over your slit, spreading you apart. 

"Can't believe," he moans into your mound, running the flat of his tongue over your center again and again. "... you kept me from this pussy for so long." 

You throw your head back at the sensation, finding nothing but air and Rafe to support you as pulls you closer to his mouth.

"That," you say in a broken moan at the feeling of Rafe's tongue inside you. "That's your fault, remember? I was always here — shit! Waiting for you.”

Rafe hums against your pussy at that, neither agreeing or disagreeing. His nose nudges your clit as he tastes you greedily. You tug at his hair to dissipate some of the energy building inside your core, but it only makes Rafe work harder. 

"Didn't think I deserved you." He admits, pink lips mesmerizing and wet with your slick and his spit. Rafe takes your clit into his mouth and sucks obscenely, the slurping sound sending a flash of heat through you. "Doesn't matter now. I'm good at making up for lost time..."

Your thighs clamp around Rafe's head as he fucks you with his tongue. It's only now, as gasps and high-pitched sounds fall wantonly from your lips that you come to the reality that you're letting Rafe eat you out in the courtyard, and anybody from the party could come here and find you. Still, you moan less controlled than you would have hoped when he suckles at your clit again, drinking at your sopping pussy.

"Hey, have some common decency, huh? There's some very nice people in there trying to enjoy a party." 

Rafe smirks when you pull at his hair even harder, mostly at the thought that you think it could be reprimanding when he likes it so much. His teasing does more to turn you on than you'd care to admit and he can tell with the way you gush around him.

"One of em's your date." He adds, laughing slightly as he curls his tongue inside you. Entranced at the way it makes you whimper and writhe like putty under him. He starts rubbing your clit with his thumb at the same time, chasing the crest of your orgasm. "C'mon, baby. Give it to me. Come all over my tongue." 

Your release makes your back rise off of the slab of cement you're seated on, thighs slotted over Rafe's shoulders as he licks you through your climax.

The pleasure is insurmountable, your mouth falling open and your eyes screwing shut as that familiar feeling completely overwhelms your senses, the burn of your elbows against the cement keeping you anchored to the ground. 

Rafe smiles when you pull him by the belt of his dress pants to capture his mouth in a long and sweet kiss. It helps clean up the residual wetness. 

By the time Kelce makes it your father's charity event, he sighs tiredly into the crown of Shelley's head, pressing a wet kiss there in greeting. On his way in, he got trapped in a conversation with your father and some guy he'd never seen before named Daniel who was more inclined to kiss your dad's ass than he was to breathe.

Finally taking his seat next to a very drunk Topper, he squints his eyes at the sight before him. You and Rafe, unable to keep your hands off each other, giggling at nothing in particular. And when not giggling, kissing.

"Are you seeing this shit?" Kelce asks Topper, gesturing towards his two closest friends shoving their tongues down each other's throats. Shamelessly, at that.

"Dude." Topper groans, sighing like this was no surprise to him. "Where the fuck have you been?"

a/n: thank you for reading! comments/reblogs appreciated!!

[ulabewriting]

Karter Foreman-McGuire.

he/him.

TW : mention of smoking, bad relationship with parents and coming-out(going good tho)

– Nigerian, adopted in Benin City.

– Capricorn.

– Transgender / AFAB.

– Tattoo artist.

• part of the “don’t give a fuck about being rich” duo. (skyh’s bestie<3)

• rejects every single one of his parent’s “beliefs” and morals.

• will never forgive them for the poor treatment of Liz. (clearly the sibling he’s closest to, jokingly calls her his “favorite”.)

• chillest person you’ve ever met.

• until the topic is his parents. he gets very tense.

• somehow knows everything about everyone. (that means he’s the best to gossip with ;] )

• is insanely scared of love and getting into a relationship. (he freaked out soooo bad when he realized his feelings for you–)

• loves people very deeply though. There are no words to describe the intensity of his feelings for his siblings, friends and you.

• a skater guy. (the cliché one listening to some mean linkin park, yeah, yeah, yeah.)

• loves drawing and painting. he regularly adds little drawings on his skateboard.

• one of the most creative people you’ll ever meet.

• becoming a tattoo artist has always been his dream.

• would go into mind break if you ask him to tattoo you. He’d be so touched and flattered you’d trust him with something such, he could cry.

• doesn’t have any tattoos himself though.

• wears long sleeves all the time, no matter the season and temperature.

• « You ever think about, like, how… . . damn, I forgot what I was saying. . . .Anyway, you hungry ? »

• LOVES to have movie night dates with you. both of you, cuddles, coraline playing in the back. perfection.

• random guy with a random sense of humour. definitely the type to find elaborated jokes unfunny but will be cry-laughing because of a goofy horn noise.

• is into urbex. loves to find and explore the most rannndom, weirrrrd places. it kind of freaks you out sometimes but it makes him happy so oh well. :)

• « I swear ! I found the coolest place; apparently it’s an ancient hospital where patients used to summon evil spirits. We haaaave to go tonight ! Imagine if we hear like… weird laughs and little voices and shit. That’s so sick??? »

• absolutely hates alcohol. grape juice though ? he needs it to function.

• he's the jealous type. (but won't everrrr admit it; he'll pout and whine if you mention it.)

• writes lyrics of his favorite songs on the sole of his shoes.

• Oliver and him, as the « only bros of the pack », love to roleplay as exaggerated dudebros/toxic masculinity fucks from time to time and they always get cut short by Dominic and Liz’ disapproving glares, which only causes them to giggle stupidly and exchange knowing glances. dudebros in their own bubble i guess–

• draws little hearts and stars on your skin. (would definitely color your tattoos if you have some!)

• the funny introvert of the group.

• laughs very easily. he looks scary until he flashes you the whitest, largest, most genuine smile eveR.

• kind of has fangs. cute little fangs. (and he bites to show his love, so yeah, prepare yourself–)

• obsessed with belts. He has a whole collection and it’s quite impressive–

• his love languages ? quality time and acts of service.

• plays guitar.

• calls you ‘precious’.

• it was his dream to join a band when he was in high school.

• sings you sweet lullabies when you can’t sleep – he has a beautiful, soothing voice, so it never takes you long to fall asleep.

• he was scared to death about coming out. Naturally, the first person he confided in was Liz, when he was 17. She had the sweetest, most supportive reaction and it really encouraged him to fully step out of the closet. By the time he was 20, he was out to the whole family, including his parents.

• has a special spot in his heart for Oliver. After all, he’s always been his ‘masculine role model’. (cause it sure as hell wasn’t his father lmao)

• remembers everything about you. even the smallest, ‘stupidest’ details.

• jokes about hating men all the time, and blames everything on them. The dishwasher not working ? Yeah, probably some man's fault. One of Celestia's designer bags missing ? Random dog barking in the streets ? Global warming ? MEN.

• very supportive. He’s the fondest about anything you do; he's always hyping up Mickayla’s brand and still wears her first pieces, he always showed up to Skyh’s plays even though he hates theater…No matter how uninterested he may seem; he deeply cares about what is going on around him and his loved ones.

• only wears silver jewelry, and you won’t ever catch him running around in the streets without a choker on.

• loves matching with you. phone cases, necklaces, bracelets, nail art – anything. anything as long as it's you.

• likes pda. Holding hands, hugging you, squeezing your waist, locking an arm around your shoulders… there’s no way you two go out and his hands are not everywhere on you.

• never smokes when you’re around. (unless you smoke as well, in that case; he will insist to light up your cigarette, it always brings a little smile to his lips when he does it.)

• wears strawberry chapstick 24/7. He can’t live without it.

• draws you all the time. He has lots of random sketches on the corner of his notebooks’ pages and big ass paintings of you hidden under his bed – he’s scared you’d find him too obsessive and creepy if you found out how many of those he has.

• a sucker for cartoons. If you wait for him on his bed, ready to cuddle, an episode of teen titans on the tiny TV in his room, he’ll wrap himself around you like a blanket and never let go–

• reserved, but very vocal about his dislikes. Like if someone says something he has a problem with, he’ll say it. He won’t be rude about it, but he’ll definitely make it crystal clear.

• one of his dreams is to have a matching tattoo with all his siblings. Something discreet and meaningful; a symbol for the unique, disconcerting experience that being a Foreman-McGuire is.

• « You look like a whole ass museum all by yourself, precious. I could look at you forever… and as a matter of fact, I will. »

[choiceskatie]

Hi I have an Ask for Teddy and Ethan

[  ] Who is the better partner?

[  ] What is the one thing you would change about your partner?

[  ] Who put in more work in a relationship?

[  ] Who put in more work on bedroom?

[  ] How well does your partner know you sexually?

[  ] Are they the best partner you've ever had? The best sex?

Awww, thank you so much for sending these, my love! They really got me thinking.

Who is the better partner?

Honestly, I know most people would be inclined to say their MC, but I’m not sure in this case. Teddy is definitely an open book and wears her heart on her sleeve. She finds it very easy to talk about her feelings which is great for their relationship, especially since it’s something Ethan finds quite difficult in the early stages, but she has her own flaws too. She’s v independent and when things get hard, she tends to isolate herself from others and try to deal with everything on her own, so it takes a while for her to change her ways and open up to Ethan without feeling like a burden. Ethan is the same, his first instinct is to take on his struggles alone, but with time he learns that Teddy’s there to help him with everything. He obviously has his own mommy issues too, but with Teddy’s help alongside much needed therapy he manages to move past them. They both struggle in the early years with different things but I wouldn’t say either is better than the other as the time goes on. They’re not perfect but they’re the best each other could ever wish for.

What is the one thing you would change about your partner?

Ethan would change Teddy’s maturity level lol. Although he ends up loving her playfulness and immature sense of humour, when their inevitable arguments come along, she’s as stubborn as a child. He could seriously count the amount of times she’s apologised on one hand haha. She never changes, and the fallout from their arguments is always up to Ethan to sort lmao.

Teddy would change Ethan’s judgemental nature. He’s pretty quick to criticise people both in and out of the hospital, and Teddy always scolds him for it haha. He does get better as time goes on, but his first instinct when he doesn’t agree with someone will always be disapproval.

Who put in more work in a relationship?

Initially, I’d say Teddy. If she hadn’t waited for Ethan and held her ground every time he tried to push her away, there would be no relationship. But once they’re officially together, I’d definitely say Ethan. He felt like he had a lot to make up for after wasting precious time, so was ready to give it his all.

Who put in more work on bedroom?

Hard one because my horny idiots both love to give lol. I’d honestly say they’re evenly matched in that arena. There’s rarely a time either of them won’t do something for the other lol

How well does your partner know you sexually?

Extremely well. By now, Ethan and Teddy have exploded and discovered all of their kinks together. They know exactly what the other likes and what gets them going, and it’s utter bliss 😌

Are they the best partner you've ever had? The best sex?

Definitely. Teddy has been through her fair share of heartbreak and for a while thought her relationship with Ethan might end the same, but she stayed strong and now it’s by far the best she’s ever been in. It just works for them. Def the best for Ethan too. The only relationship that was relatively serious for him prior to Teddy was Harper and that was more a relationship of mutual respect and convenience. Teddy is the first time Ethan’s ever been in love.

As for the sex, 1000000%. And they both have plenty to compare the other to, my babes were active before they met each other lol.

This was so fun, thanks for these!

[thusspoketrish]

Play Pretend (Part 1/5)

TRIGGER WARNING (PLEASE READ THE TAGS. PLEASE READ THE TAGS. PLEASE READ THE TAGS): Depression. Suicide Attempt. Suicidal Ideation. PTSD. Poor Coping Mechanism.

Harry Potter & Astoria Greengrass; Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter; Astoria Greengrass/Draco Malfoy; Astoria Greengrass/Others; Draco Malfoy/Others; Harry Potter/Others

Content: Friendship. Forced Marriage Arrangement. Unrequited Love. Falling Out of Love. Falling in Love. Betrayal. Friendships. Breakups. Mental Health Issues. Apathy. Flatmates. Acceptance. Positive Thinking. Therapy.

SUMMARY: Fate boasts a strange sense of humour when a severely depressed Harry finds himself convincing a drunk Astoria Greengrass off the ledge of Waterloo Bridge at three in the morning. The events that follow after are an exercise in strength as Harry finds himself relearning how to cope, forgive, and love alongside the blossoming of new friendships.

Thank you to @starlitsilvereyes for the beta!

====================

At approximately 2:07 AM, Harry Potter shoves his arms through his black wool coat before wrapping his Gryffindor scarf tightly around his neck. He shoves on the misshapen scarlet mittens Hermione knitted for him several years ago, realising he could summon a better pair as she’s improved greatly since Hogwarts, but finding that these reminded him of a better time.

Finally, he shoves his wand up his sleeve before wrenching the door open and taking the steps down from Grimmauld two at a time, the door slamming shut behind him with a finality. As he breathes in and out sharply, white puffs curling outward from his chapped lips, Harry looks skyward. The moon is heavy and hangs low tonight, full and beautiful as swirls of snow begin to gently fall. It’s dark, and beautiful, and it hurts to look at.

Harry had spent the entire day cleaning Grimmauld from top to bottom. Not that this mattered as Harry has found that no matter how much he cleaned or remodelled the house, he was incapable of penetrating its doom-and-gloom atmosphere. But he had cleaned to the best of his ability, and had arranged all his necessary documents across his office table several hours ago. He carefully placed each note facing upward, the individual names of all his friends in his spidery scrawl. He had even left notes behind for the Dursley’s, though, not imparting a single kind word, as seen in his other letters. He had left the Gringotts keys of the Potter Vault behind in Ron and Hermione’s name and endowed a small trust to any future children they may have. He had left the deed and keys to Grimmauld and the Black vault to Teddy and Andromeda.

Harry doesn’t think he left any stone unturned.

He had been planning this for months. Had made the nearly 40-minute walk from Clerkenwell to Waterloo Bridge nearly every night for the last three weeks, simply staring out at the water, yearning. It would take nothing, he thought, to sit on the ledge, cast a simple spell to increase his weight, and fling himself over the edge. And at three in the morning, it wouldn’t be hard to do this uninterrupted.

A numb sort of blankness overcomes him as he rolls his shoulders and makes his way through the quiet roads, onto the high street where the slow crawl of busses and cars creep past. Harry’s vision is a tunnel of black and white images flickering in and out of focus as he sets himself on autopilot. He could do this route with his eyes closed.

It’s not that Harry thinks he deserves to die. He’s simply come to the conclusion that he wants to.

He’s tired, much too tired from the debilitating numbness that’s crippled his entire existence. He’s remained frozen in time since dying and coming back to life in the Forbidden Forest. The experience has left him immobile, like a statue, weathered by the storm called time but never feeling the effects of it no matter how long he holds his breath, patiently waiting for something to come along and happen. He was waiting for the spark of life to feed his blood as it had during the war, and nothing, no reason or rhyme, has been able to replace it. He had quit the Aurors, had isolated himself from the pitying expressions of friends and family, and had shrunken himself on the outside to reflect what he felt on the inside—absolutely nothing. He was nothing, a lingering afterthought in his own mind, something ugly and broken with a piece of its soul missing. He couldn’t stand to live with that knowledge any longer.

It was no one’s fault, not directly. Harry’s never been whole, not as a child curled up and forgotten in the cupboard under the stairs; not as a child, shaped into a sacrificial soldier, not as a twenty-three year old man, alone, shrouded in the dark cloak of night, ready to end his life.

The black and purple swirls of fog and clouds paint a pretty backdrop for the breathtaking view of the Thames, the London Eye, and Parliament from Harry’s position on the bridge. It’s the only time his vision shifts to full-colour, when he’s standing on the bridge, hands gripping the cold railing as he peers over, his glasses sliding slowly down his nose. He uses a mittened finger to push them back up, a hollow laugh escaping him as he reaches deep down inside of himself to search for a feeling, anything. He wishes for even a fissure of panic as he places both hands on the railing again, wondering if 100kg added to his feet would successfully prevent his ability to kick back up to the surface.

A harsh wind whips by, and with it carrying a whimper. Harry turns, his gaze sharpening, harping on an elongated figure further down the bridge perched on the railing.

He turns back to the water, staring out at the inky black waves. He shouldn’t care.

The whimper turns into full on sobbing.

He shouldn’t care. He doesn’t.

Then, there’s a horrible scream of anguish that pierces the quiet, the sound full of devastation. He blinks several times, pushing his glasses up again. He may not have the ability to care for his own well-being anymore but he still...he still seems to care about others.

With a sigh, Harry walks to the centre of the bridge, noticing a lone figure down the road walking towards them before abruptly stopping and turning away from them.

Harry ignores them, and instead approaches the person perched on the railing. He can see that the person is wearing a black, long-sleeved ballgown, tiny sparkling beads of emerald green, gold, red, and silver shimmering in the moonlight, taking the shape of exploding fireworks across her bodice along the back of the dress. It’s beautiful, and Harry gasps when the woman turns to face him.

He’s seen this woman before, has seen her pretty pale face at the Slytherin table at Hogwarts. Her long black hair whips across her flushed face, mascara-tinged tears sliding down her cheeks. Her red lipstick is smeared across her lips and down her chin, piercing blue eyes unfocussed as she sways side-to-side.

“What do you want?” the woman asks miserably, her voice slurring, intoxicated. Harry steps closer to her, as if she’s a wild animal ready to leap away from him. The woman’s lips turn down into a terrible wound of a frown, misshapen by the smeared lipstick. “Did he send you?” she cries.

“No,” Harry says, not knowing who she’s talking about as he slowly approaches her. “Why don’t you come down?” he asks, extending an opened hand.

The woman’s gaze twists from Harry back out to the dark depths of the Thames. Harry inches closer.

Another whimper escapes her. “He doesn’t love me,” she cries, her body shaking as she weeps.

“There are people out here who love you,” Harry says, wincing. How many times has Ron and Hermione said this very thing to him over the last year?

“But not him!” she shouts, her shoulders trembling, the harsh winds whip her hair. “I’ve tried everything. I’ve even given him all of me, all my love, all my hopes and my bloody dreams, and nothing. Nothing I do makes him look at me…at me...as if,” the woman breaks off, a trembling cry escaping her before she shouts, “Why...why not me?”

“He doesn’t deserve you,” Harry says, his voice carrying on the winds, tone firm. A small spark of indignation is felt in his chest. This woman, this woman is suffering, and it’s fuelling a knife-sharp sensation alongside his slow-beating heart. He wants to touch her, see if he can pull her grief into him, see if it’ll help him feel his own, for once.

The woman tilts her head back, a wail escaping her. “I don’t deserve him! I can’t help him, I can’t even bloody keep him. I’m useless.”

“Stop it, don’t put yourself down like this. He doesn’t deserve you...you’re stronger than this pain, this numbness you’re experiencing, and you know it. You know you can do so much better than him, that your life and your hopes and dreams outweighs whatever the fuck you think he sees when he looks at you. You don’t need anything from him, not when you’re this strong,” Harry says, shaking his head. He doesn’t know where these words are coming from, they feel foreign to his own ears. A part of him wonders if he wished someone would say this to him. “What’s your name?”

The woman draws in a shaky breath before she answers in a tiny, strained voice, “Astoria. Astoria Greengrass.”

Harry nods, now remembering her, remembering where he’s seen her name lately. “Come, Astoria. You have so much to offer the world. You’re strong, but sometimes even the strongest among us have bad days, but that doesn’t make us worthless,” Harry says, the feeling in his chest swelling, lighting him on fire from the inside. Harry gasps. “You’re worth fighting for, you’re...let me...let me fight for you, Astoria, until you can fight for yourself. Please...please, take my hand. You don’t have to do this...you don’t have to do this alone.” He’s now beside her.

A wicked wind whips past them again, the snow falling now coming down in thick, fluffy sheets. Astoria huffs out another sob before she turns around, her hand stretching out.

Harry clasps it, pulling her forward. She wraps her arms around his neck, digging her face into this layered scarf, clinging to him like a lifeline. They both sink to the ground as she weeps. The cold stings the trail of tears on Harry’s own cheeks.

She smells like the cold, along with lingering scent of bergamot orange and rosewood. He knows it's a combination of scents he'll never forget as he cradles her against his chest before quickly opening his coat to wrap around her shivering form.

All the while, feeling more alive than he has since the day he died.

[nalgenewhore]

masterlist - ao3 - last chapter - next chapter

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Elide stood underneath the water, her arms crossed over her chest. She stared at the black tiles of the shower wall, wondering how she would even be able to find someone to marry. 

The only viable suitors that would yield any sort of political power had to at least be lords, this she knew. Elide suppressed a shudder as she thought about the lords of Perranth. They were all decades older than her and, as demonstrated when she had to dance with them at her birthday, thought very little about personal boundaries. 

Most of them had spent the time staring at her tits and they weren’t subtle about it either. She panicked, thinking about what would happen if they insisted on her performing her ‘wifely duties’. 

She had voiced this concern with Aelin and Lysandra, her hands shaking when she told them. They had both assured her that there were other options for suitors and none of the bachelors she had danced with on her birthday met the requirements to be her husband. 

Elide turned around and tipped her head back under the shower, washing the shampoo out before lathering her long hair with conditioner. 

She stayed in the shower until the water became cold and wrapped her thick, fleece housecoat around her. The mirror was fogged. Elide sighed, rubbing her eyes, and used her sleeve to wipe a small circle in the middle. 

She frowned at the pallorness of her face, her hair clinging to her scalp like a soaked dog. With a sigh, Elide opened the cabinet and pulled out her haircare, plugging in her hair dryer. She combed through her leave-in conditioner and hair oil, making sure each strand was properly moisturized. 

Then, she sectioned her hair and blow-dried each part. She used her round brush so later, she wouldn’t have to spend so much time straightening it. Someone knocked on the door, a deep voice accompanying it, “El, can I come in?” 

“Yes, the door’s open,” she called back, knowing it was Rowan. He slipped in on near silent feet, the door clicking shut behind him. Elide swilleved on her vanity stool when he stayed at the door, a perfectly manicured brow arched. “What did you do?” 

“Why is that your first question?” 

She shrugged, drying the last section before she clicked the power button and put the tool to the side, letting it cool before she put it away. “You’re being weird. And you look guilty.” 

Rowan sighed, running his hand over his hair, sure to mess it up, “I know her nephew. We’re, uh… friends.” 

Elide blinked, “Friends as in you were classmates and grew apart or friends as in…” 

“Friends as in best friends and he’s my ex?” Rowan said, his voice higher than normal. “We grew up together and had a summer fling that turned into… not a fling and… yeah.” 

Elide frowned, “You grew up in Doranelle. How does someone from Doranelle have any claim over Perranth?” 

Rowan shoved off the door and sat down on the counter, kicking his toe into the floor, “His parents were divorced and shared custody. He spent half the year here and half in Doranelle, until his dad died.” 

Elide felt a pang of empathy for the man. The hurt of losing a parent was something that stayed with one for a while. “So… what’s he like?” 

Rowan let loose a dry chuckle, “He’s, uh, he’s something. Doesn’t talk much. Surprising sense of humour, he’s got a bit of a temper. Very blunt man, doesn’t take being lied to well.” A gentle, friendly sort of fondness washed over Rowan’s face. “I think you two would get along very well under different circumstances.”

Elide hummed, “So he’s a cranky old bastard like you, huh?” 

Rowan’s indignant scowl was answer enough. 

 +*+*+*+*+*+*

Against the polished floors, Elide’s heels clicked sharply as she walked down to the main foyer, where they were to greet Maeve and her nephew. 

She arrived after Aelin, Rowan, and Lysandra, who were all trying to play it cool but failing miserably. “So, is this appropriate to meet him?” she asked, turning around slowly for approval of her sleeveless, powder blue sheath dress. Elide propped her hands on her hips to pose, her hair shifting silkily over her shoulders. 

“You look wonderful,” Lysandra said, listening to something in her earpiece. “They’re here.” 

Elide curled her hands into fists, trying to quell her nerves. She tossed her glossy locks over her shoulder and flashed a dazzling smile, “Well, then. It’s time.” She sat down in an armchair, crossing her right ankle behind the left. 

Aelin sat in the chair next to hers, reaching over to squeeze Elide’s hand. “It’ll be ok.” 

“I know,” Elide said, her heart rate speeding up as Rowan walked across the hall to greet them. 

He was tall, she could tell that much, but Rowan’s build hid him from her view as they clasped hands and spoke quietly. Maeve walked in after her nephew, and Elide stood, dusting off her skirt. 

Aelin stood as well, wearing a professional smile as she took Maeve’s hands and kissed her cheeks, “Maeve, it’s nice to see you again.” 

“The pleasure is all mine, your Majesty.” Maeve turned to Elide, bowing her head the slightest bit. “Lady Lochan, you look lovely.” 

Elide smiled tightly, shaking Maeve’s hand, “As do you, Ms. Nathair.” As much as she loathed the woman, Elide couldn’t deny she had impeccable taste and she wore the clothes beautifully. 

Maeve nodded primly, half-turning to beckon her nephew to her, “I’d like to introduce my nephew, Lorcan Salvaterre.” 

He stepped up and Elide felt her jaw drop. He held her gaze as he bowed to Aelin, “Your Majesty.”

Aelin recovered from her shock faster than Elide, “Hello, Lorcan.” Elide didn’t hear what else her cousin said. She felt her cheeks burn, a combination of anger and embarrassment. 

She- 

He danced with her, saved her from Lord Bigge. And she had slapped him. Her vision went red as his lips twitched with a small smirk and she regretted ever wishing for the feeling of them on hers. 

Lorcan bowed to her as well, “Sweetheart.”

Without thinking, Elide raised her hand and slapped him hard, across the face. A sick sense of satisfaction raced through her when his head snapped to the side and a bright red handprint was left on his cheek. She turned on her toes, quickly walking towards the kitchens. That fucking asshole. 

Shocked cries left everyone’s mouths. As she turned the corner, Elide glanced back, seeing him wave Rowan off. He worked his jaw, chuckling quietly. Lorcan’s dark gaze flicked to hers, “She always does that.” 

Elide thought she deserved an award for restraining herself and not flipping him off. She fled to the kitchens, slinking around the staff. There was a tray of cookies and she snatched one up, quickly regretting it as she learned just how fresh they were. 

She carried it quickly to the back table and dropped it, blowing on her fingertips. Elide slumped into a seat, not bothering with correct posture as she broke off pieces of the cookie and ate them. 

She glared at the opposite wall of the nook, hoping the palace would catch on fire and Lorcan would be crushed beneath a burning beam. 

Elide savoured her cookie. It wouldn’t be long until someone came to find her. She was embarrassed. He had known who she was the entire time and- and what? Danced to play with her, to toy with her emotions? 

One of the kitchen staff slid a plate her way, piled high with cookies. Elide smiled, her foul mood lifting the slightest. “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome, miss,” the young boy said, quickly returning to his task. 

Not long after, Aelin burst in, her eyes wide, “Elide! What the fuck was that?”

Elide sulked, muttering, “I’ve met him before.” 

Aelin slid onto the bench across from her, “When?” 

“At the ball,” she whispered, her throat growing tight. “He’s the guy I…” Elide felt so stupid. It must’ve been some joke to him and his aunt. 

“Ah,” Aelin said. “Your mystery man.” 

Elide nodded glumly, crossing her arms petulantly. “Yes.” 

Aelin was silent for a few moments, chewing on her bottom lip in concentration. “As the queen, I can’t condone you physically harming your royal opponent.” 

“But?” 

Aelin grinned wickedly, a feisty gleam in her eyes, “As your cousin, I say beautifully done.” Uncertainty flashed across her face, “What did he mean by ‘she always does that’?” 

Her cheeks flushed and Elide looked down at her lap, “Um, I might’ve accidentally hit him when I was ranting to Lyss?” She nervously glanced up at Aelin. “Please don’t make me apologise.” 

“Never,” Aelin said, “but we do need to return. Maeve has gone mad.” She stood up, her honey-gold ponytail swishing gently. Elide reluctantly stood up and looped her arm through Aelin’s, leaning her head on her cousin’s shoulder. “Personally, I would’ve gone for a kick in the balls, but a slap works just as well.” 

 +*+*+*+*+*+*

Bright, pealing laughter echoed throughout the hall and Lorcan tensed. Rowan shot him a warning look, telling him to keep his shit together and not antagonise Elide any further. 

His aunt was muttering something about Elide’s impropriety and how she would be having a talk with Vernon for accosting her nephew like this. Lorcan decided it probably wouldn’t be a good idea to tell his aunt Elide slapping him was the highlight of the trip so far. 

He hadn’t meant to dance with her on her birthday, but she had looked like she needed help. Lorcan hadn’t missed the way that sweating lordling had pawed at her. And he hadn’t meant for it to feel like… that. 

He hadn’t meant a lot of things. 

Aelin and Elide appeared, the former shooting him a halfway apologetic smile. He could see right through it, knowing Aelin was bursting with pride for Elide. 

When his eyes slid to Elide, she turned her head, but her cheeks pinked when he continued to stare at her. She finally snapped and sent him a glare that could freeze Hellas’ fiery realm. Anger acted a veneer to shield the humiliation shining in her eyes, but Lorcan read it easily, a slight note of shame tightening his chest. 

He really was a bastard. 

“Please excuse us for the mishap,” Aelin said, patting Elide’s hand. Lorcan stifled the urge to roll his eyes, the look on Elide’s face confirming it was anything but a mishap. “Lorcan, we’d like to invite you to stay with us at the palace.” 

Elide’s eyes widened and she stiffened, shooting him another dirty look. Just because he could, just for that rush he got when she paid him any attention, Lorcan winked at her, “I’d love to, your Majesty.” 

Aelin smiled innocently, “Wonderful. We’ll send our staff to help you with your bags.” 

 +*+*+*+*+*+*

Elide stewed silently in the foyer as Aelin and Rowan saw their guests out. The minute the door closed, Elide cried, “Why would you do that?” 

Aelin placated her, “Ellie-Boo, it’s to our advantage. We could never keep tabs on him if he was staying over in Maeve’s manor. This way, we can figure out their plan and stop it.” 

Feeling like she had gotten worked up over nothing, Elide mumbled something rude, “Fine. I guess that makes sense.” 

The queen scoffed, “Of course it does. I make the best plans.”

+*+*+*+*+*+*

an: aha ! he’s here and wasn’t it fun ?

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[cockasinthebird]

congratulations on reaching 500 bb, you deserve it!! can i ask for prompts 7 and 115 please?

Dear anon, Thank you!!! And thank you for sending in prompts!!

7. “I want you now.”

and

115. “Come here.”

Not in this particular order, though, but still used quite well, and while I did actually struggle just a tiny bit with deciding which idea I should go for of the numerous ones that came forth, I’m still v satisfied!!! I’ll probably have to write the other ones at some point, but first! 

1.8k words, enjoy~

-

“Harrington!” his voice carries over the roar of a dozen teenagers talking and gossiping throughout the cafeteria.

Everyone goes dead silent, staring at Billy, then they all whip their heads at Steve, who’s frozen with his teeth biting into a piece of meatloaf.

“Come here!” Billy shouts with his eyes burning holes into Steve.

Cautiously he turns to look at Billy, fists tight at his sides, brows pulled strong together in a stern stare.

“What did you do?” Nancy whispers to Steve, leaning across the table.

Jonathan sits next to her, honestly looking more scared than Steve himself. Everyone else looks almost excited, as if they’re waiting for a chance to see blood, the tension palpable in the air, thick and electric like a storm is brewing.

He doesn’t answer, simply drops his food on the tray and stands up, immediately causing a wave of not that hushed whispers.

Steve’s gonna get his ass kicked. Billy boutta tear Harrington a new one! Dead man walking.

It’s kinda hard to ignore. The ocean of students separate before him like he’s Moses as he walks through the crowd. They’re all laughing, snickering, jeering, as the old King Steve approaches the reigning Keg King.

Nice knowing ya, Steve. Good luck. Just give up now, it’ll hurt less. If I were you I’d run away.

But he doesn’t register any of it beyond simple background static, because the way Billy is staring, leering, is setting his soul aflame, triggering his fight or flight instinct, getting him a tad bit too excited.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Billy hisses at him, canines exposed through a scowl.

Steve frowns right back, crosses his arms. “I dunno, you tell me.” They’re standing so close that he can smell Billy’s cologne, feel his harsh breathing against his lips.

Billy looks away from Steve and over his shoulder, going from one peer’s curious gaze to another’s bloodthirsty one, then snarls, “What the FUCK are you all staring at?”

And at that they all scramble around, returning to their places, but it’s painfully obvious that they’re still paying attention, glancing over shoulders with perked ears.

A fist closes around the fabric of Steve’s expensive, short sleeved, open button down.

“Not here,” Billy whispers sharply, nostrils flared, a finger rubbing against the slightly exposed patch of chest hair Steve has to offer.

-

Steve gets pulled along by the shirt, out of the cafeteria, down the halls of Hawkins High, outside, underneath the bleachers, and isn’t released till Billy shoves him against the chain link fence that spans the outer borders of the football field.

Within a second Billy’s on him, lips meeting roughly with such a deep hunger it leans toward too much, but Steve follows his lead, moving fingers up to pull at the golden mullet, breathing ragged through his nose.

Billy’s thick fingers tear through the buttons of Steve’s shirt. He has been staring at him all day, the pale blue shirt having been opened just enough to expose the top of his chest, a hint of hair, and it is a fair move on Steve’s behalf, considering it’s at the start of summer and sweltering hot, nearing 90 degrees already. 

But Billy hates it, in a sense, as he could not focus all day, Steve’s pale skin just teasing him, daring him to stare, inviting him to touch. And perhaps it’s because he’s seen Steve fully naked, flushed, moaning beneath him, marked up in purple and red, that he can’t just go on about his day whenever Steve shows just a bit too much. Short shorts, tight jeans, crop tops, and unbuttoned shirts. It just flicks a switch now.

As he leans away from their brutish kissing, he stares at the patch of hair now fully on display, then catches Steve grinning like the cat that ate the canary. 

“You wore this shirt on purpose, didn’t you?” barely an actual question as Billy runs his fingers through Steve’s dark, rather soft, chest hair.

“I did,” he responds, sounding a bit more winded than Billy. 

“You know what it does to me,” another clear statement.

“I do-” Steve starts with a sensuous chuckle, but winces an interruption as Billy tugs on a few strands of hair. “Ah-h, asshole.”

But they both laugh at that, humoured by Steve’s obvious teasing and insinuation that follows wearing this shirt, unspoken but still heard. Billy leans in, doesn’t kiss Steve even as he opens up with wanton; his need to taste Billy again palpable.

“God,” Billy growls out hot, and Steve eats it right up, squirms a bit under the hand flat on his pecs. “I want you, now.”

“Hmmm…” Steve hums as if he’s actually contemplating something, as if it wasn’t his plan from the start of his morning to end up like this. “How?”

-

Billy spreads his legs out on the backseat of the camaro, not that there’s a lot of space to do so, but enough for Steve to kneel there, balanced precariously on the edge of the bench, as he kisses Billy; a bit softer now but no less passionate.

As Steve makes his way down, across the jaw that tastes of aftershave, the neck that smells of cologne, the chest that beats like a drum, Billy thunks his head against the window, gazing at the tree tops surrounding them where they’re parked in the forest.

Wet, eager, pliant lips follow right behind where Steve’s fingers undoes the buttons of Billy’s dark fuchsia shirt, tongue out to taste the summer on his skin. When he reaches the border of jeans and pulls at the belt, Billy looks down at him to run a hand through his hair.

Brown eyes shoot up, dark and amber, filled with lust, desire and a certain tenderness they haven’t addressed yet. Which Billy doesn’t really want to, just in case it would ruin everything, because he doesn’t believe he can trust his own heart with such a delicate matter, with such a pretty boy.

Steve raises himself to kiss Billy, pushing his tongue in to curl them together, sweet and wet and dear, before he pulls off by an inch with a complacent smile.

“You were really convincing back there,” he laughs quietly, unhooking the belt.

“Oh yeah?” Billy chuckles back. He’s got one arm resting across the backseat, the other up to grab at the headrest for the driver's seat.

“Yeah, had me worried for a moment.” A button pops free and the zipper runs loudly.

“Good, ah-” Billy bites back a moan as Steve’s warm and slightly sweaty hand reaches into his trunks. “Wanted to- fuh-ck- wanted to sell it, make it believable.”

He gasps and groans as Steve works his hand along Billy’s full erection, staring down at those soft, pale fingers squeezing around him.

“Shit Stevie…”

Steve chuckles warmly, smiling as wide as he can go, eyes lidded and heavy with a heated gaze at how Billy becomes breathless by his touch. He scoots down the seating, lying down as much as he can, legs bent into the air, as he faces the girthy cock that throbs in his grasp.

Looks up through lashes to watch how Billy bites into his lower lip, brows pinched together with anticipation as Steve pulls his dick free from its reins. Feels a gentle hand petting his hair when he skims his lips across the burning skin, runs his tongue from the base up to just under the head, following the curve of it with the tip of his tongue.

The hand in his hair is heavy, comforting, pleading, and Steve opens his mouth wide, smears the droplet of pre against his flat tongue, then sinks down on Billy’s cock, stretching his lips around the thickness of it.

Instinctively Billy bucks his hips up, making Steve gag loudly - but he doesn’t pull off, just makes a slightly annoyed sound as he adjusts to the intrusion prodding at the back of his throat.

“Fuck! Fuck, sorry Steve, you just- ah- yes-” at least he tries to apologize, but the way Steve has the head of his leaking prick rubbing against the palate of his mouth makes it a real struggle not to thrust into that gorgeous, slippery heat.

“Mmh, arrh, look so pretty with your lips wrapped around my cock like that, baby,” Billy moans out as Steve starts bobbing his head; fingers tugging on his hair to set the right pace.

Steve says something, not meant to be heard, rather for it to vibrate off of his tongue and through Billy’s steely erection, making him leak worse, groan louder, as Steve swallows around the head.

"God, fuck- you suck dick so so good, harrh- ahh-" 

With both hands in his hair now, Steve moves faster, rolls and twists his tongue, pressing against the bulging veins, swipes against the weeping slit before daring to push his way down to nuzzle his nose against Billy's crotch. 

"F-faster," Billy begs as nicely as he can, voice on edge and rough. 

And Steve's happy to oblige; let's himself be controlled by Billy's eager lust, fists lifting him up till only the head of the thick cock is inside of Steve's mouth, then gently but with intent thrusts back in. 

It's sloppy and obscene as he fucks into Steve's throat, throbbing erection drenched in spit, drool running down Steve's chin as he relaxes. 

"Yeah, fuck, I'm-I'm so-" Billy trails off with a loud groan, thighs tensing, head hitting the window as he throws back, shoving Steve fully onto his dick as he cums, a lot, warm and salty and overflowing almost. 

Steve swallows the best he can around Billy's cock, like he's sucking on a lollipop, hollowing his cheeks, working the muscles in his throat to milk Billy dry. 

As Billy gasps for air, chest heaving, prick softening up real quick, Steve pulls off and licks his lips all satisfied, earning himself a breathless laugh from the other. 

He makes a bit of a show of it, really letting his tongue slide from one corner to another, mouth wide open, crawling further up to then kiss against Billy's lips with an all too happy smile. 

"You're incredible," Billy hums with appreciation and something close to adoration, his fingers brushing through Steve's thick hair, caressing him and soothing where he's been yanking and pulling on dark locks. 

"I try," Steve chuckles.

"Your turn now." And Billy starts pushing Steve away, looking down at the bulge in his jeans, clear as day. 

But Steve shakes his head and catches Billy's hand as it initiates a dive for hard flesh. 

"Later. Pick me up after school and I'll let you fuck me blind here in the backseat," Steve purrs directly into Billy's ear, then removes himself entirely to climb back into the passenger seat. 

[carllisle]

A Touch of Jealousy

Inspired by talks with the infallible @stregoni-benefici

A coworker has the hots for Carlisle and Esme doesn’t quite know how to deal with the jealousy of it all. Less fun than it sounds. Undercut for length. 

Esme liked to pick Carlisle up from work. The hospital was on the way to the school, so sometimes Edward or Rosalie would drop him off in the morning and Esme could pick him up in the evening. She liked to look nice for him, too, and whilst her cream jumper and blue jeans weren’t anything special, she felt cosy. Alice advised her to pair the look with brown boots that had her four inches taller and Esme had admired how it had made her figure look. She liked to look nice for him. 

The kind lady on reception greeted her. “Evening, Esme. I just saw him go that way,” she pointed to the corridor opposite the front entrance, “would you like me to page him?” 

Esme smiled warmly. “Hello, Beverley. No, that’s alright, thank you, I’ll wait in his office.” 

“Well you let me know if he takes too long, I’ll sort him out.” 

“I don’t doubt that,” Esme laughed. The woman was in her late sixties and, like any good receptionist, had every doctor and nurse wrapped around her little finger. “But that’s quite alright, I don’t mind waiting.” 

Like every other place he had worked, Carlisle’s office was empty of decoration and personality. Most of the walls were blank, save for a landscape she had painted of the English countryside after their recent trip. No medical degrees, no certificates, nothing to indicate the name or accomplishments of the man who worked here. Still, it smelled like him. Esme sat in the leather chair behind the desk and stroked the arms. 

It was easy to get lost in memories of their trip and she settled back to remember their boating expedition on the Norfolk Broads. She thought of the family of otters they had seen frolicking in the water and smiled. 

Not much time went by before she could hear Carlisle’s voice drifting up the corridor along with a woman’s voice she didn’t know. The woman was laughing. “Oh Carlisle, you’re so funny!”

Carlisle chuckled. “Could you tell my children that? I try to amuse them and so often it falls flat!” 

“Surely not!” the voice exclaimed. It reminded Esme of how Tanya sometimes joked with Edward on her more flirtatious days. “That boy Emmett of yours seems to have a great sense of humour, doesn’t he back you up?” 

Esme’s eyes widened. When had this woman met Emmett? 

“Sometimes! But he likes to deliver a punchline more than he likes to hear one.” Ta-tap, ta-tap, the click of his shoes echoed down the corridor. There was a rustle of paper, cold, hard skin sliding over pages; he was reading as he walked. 

“I liked him!” The woman and Carlisle were just outside of the closed door now. The woman skipped a few steps and Esme could see in her mind’s eye that she was now in front of Carlisle. “I like his father, too.” 

“I like you, too!” Carlisle said cheerfully. “It’s nice to work with someone that one finds cheerful and personable!” 

The woman laughed. There was the sound of a soft hand on the cotton of Carlisle’s sleeve. “That makes me very happy.” She dropped her voice, but the smile was still in it. “Would you like to meet for a drink after work one day this week? We finish early on Thursday night, how about it?” 

“That sounds very nice. Who else had you thought about asking?” 

There was a sultry edge to the woman’s laugh. “Just us, Carlisle. You know, you and me?” 

“Oh. Oh. You know, I’m very flattered, but I have a wife who- who I’m very- very fond of-”

“I won’t tell her if you don’t.” 

“No, it’s not like that, it’s… you’re very lovely, but I-” The handle of the door twitched as he grabbed it. 

“It’s alright, I’ve seen how you look at me, so have others. We get on so well, c’mon, I can be discreet-” 

“No, thank you-” Carlisle pushed the door of the office open and his eyes fell on Esme where she sat. He looked uncomfortable. The woman’s heart was racing. 

Esme swallowed down the venom that had seeped into her mouth and smiled as warmly as she could. “Oh, I thought you had finished for the day. Would you like me to leave while you finish talking?” 

“No!” Carlisle said quickly and he held out his hand to call her over. Stiffly, Esme walked to his side and surveyed the woman. She was beautiful, there was no doubt about it, tall and slender and with flaming red hair and cheeks speckled with freckles. She looked at Esme with piercing green eyes and smiled easily. “Darling, this is my colleague Doctor Robinson. Doctor Robinson, this is my wife, Esme.” 

“Please, call me Zoe,” the woman said, handing out a hand. Esme shook it, ignoring the pulse at her throat. “Carlisle never mentioned he was married.” 

Esme glanced down at Carlisle’s hand and smiled. “A pleasure to meet you, Zoe. Does my husband neglect wearing his wedding ring?” 

“No, I don’t, I always wear it” Carlisle said, less calm than usual. “Let me grab my coat and we can get going.” 

Esme nodded and stepped away from him. The woman looked the most casual of the three of them. “Well, I best be off, I’ve got some paperwork to catch up on. Let me know if Thursday works for you, Carlisle, and I’ll arrange the meeting. Pleasure to meet you, Esme.” 

Esme did her best to speak kindly. “And you, Doctor Robinson. Enjoy your shift.” 

The door was closed and they heard her walking down the corridor. Esme looked at Carlisle. “Darling, I never-” 

She held up a hand and shook her head slightly. “It’s alright.” 

“I never meant to encourage her, and I do talk about you, I talk about you all the time!” 

Esme winced. “You don’t need to justify yourself.” 

They walked in silence to the car and Esme handed him the keys to drive. Once they were inside and the engine hummed quietly to life, the territorial instinct in Esme had subsided slightly. Sadness replaced it. “She’s very pretty.” 

“She’s just a friend, darling.” 

Esme nodded and looked out of the window. The lights of the city rolled over the night sky in a haze she could not focus on. “We’ve been married for a very long time. It wouldn’t be surprising if you were… if you got bored of me and wanted to… to try something else.” 

“Esme.” Carlisle sounded shocked. He rested his hand on her thigh but she twisted her body away from him. “I have never been bored of you. I have never had the desire to- to try something new. Have you?” 

“No.” 

“You are all I have ever wanted and all I have ever needed. There will never be another. I thought you knew that?” 

She was silent for a long moment. “I do.” Esme turned to look at him, not knowing how to say what was in her heart. 

He reached out to run his fingers through her hair and she let him touch her this time. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking… that… that there’s only so much I can offer you. I have no medical experience or knowledge, I can’t stimulate you like your colleagues can, or Edward or Rosalie can, I can’t satisfy your desire for knowledge and the pursuit of it.” 

“You don’t need to,” Carlisle murmured softly. He glanced now and again at the road but his hand stroked her hair. “In the same way I don’t need to do the same for you with art and architecture. We have our own interests and pursuits, that’s how it’s always been. That doesn’t mean that you are anything less than my world.” It made sense and she nodded. “Is there anything I can say that will make you feel better?” 

Esme swallowed. “It’s… it’s ridiculous. Childish, really.” 

“What is it?” 

“I… I feel very… protective over you. Territorial is perhaps the better word. The idea of her laying a hand on you, it… it made me want… want to do things to her, to you…”

Carlisle’s expression darkened and she couldn’t tell if it was in a good way or bad. “What things?” 

“I- I don’t know. I think I just… I just wanted her to know that… that you’re mine. Whatever that means.” 

Carlisle’s expression was unfathomable. After a long pause, he nodded. “I am. Body and soul. Always.” 

Drawing in a deep breath, Esme could taste him in the air. She took the hand in her hair and kissed his knuckles, and held it between both of hers in her lap. “I’ll laugh about this tomorrow. But for now… I think I’m… unsettled.” 

“That’s understandable. I do not expect you to laugh about this if you do not wish to.” 

“I do. But not quite yet. I think tonight, I… I think I want to scream. I think that would make me feel better.” 

“Alright. Let’s take a detour home. Would you like to hunt?” 

Esme nodded. “Something big.” 

He cracked a smile and glanced at her again. “Will you protect me from a big and scary beast?” 

It was impossible not to smile in return. “Maybe. Would you like me to?” 

“Oh, wholeheartedly.”

[crazyclownthanos]

Ace Silva

“A million dreams for the world we’re gonna make”

“All I want to do is to change the world”

“Carrying on the will of Asta? Wow. That’s an honor I hope I don’t mess this up”

Character Information

Ace Silva is a royal from the clover kingdom raining from the house of Silva pacifically the Silva-Ideale branch family. Zora and Nebra’s second child.

At the whooping age of 11 he meets the devil, Helreignn the white devil and a shifting fox named Ruh. Now on an unexpected Journey to gain control of this unknown power he faces challenges that will change the shape of the world.

Ace comes the Latin origin meaning “one, unity”

Alias

Acey chasey

Chasey wasey

Chase

Racey (Magna)

Pupil (Asta)

Title(s)

The white Devils vessel

The future king of the underworld

A hazard to royalty

The will carrier of Asta

The grandson of the dancing princess of the battle Field and the first commoner to become a magic knight

An abusers & criminals child

General Information

Status: Alive

Species: Human

Gender: Male

Affinity: Arrow magic, Nigh Omniscience (not awaken), underworld formation (not awaken), Shapeshifting (Not Awaken), Light manipulation (not awaken)

Age: 11 (at the beginning of White Clover)

Birthday: February 26th

Constellation: Pisces

Height: 146cm

Weight: 30kg (66.13p)

Blood type: AB

Eyes: Pink

Hair: Red

Relatives: Nebra Silva (Mother), Zora Ideale (Father), Josslyn (Older Sister), Solid Silva (Uncle), Nozel Silva (Uncle), Noelle Silva (Aunt), Asta (Uncle), Haskell Silva (Cousin), Liebe (foster uncle), Acier Silva (Grandmother), Zara Ideale (Grandfather), Two other cousins, Grandfather

Appearance

Ace is the shortest among the fearsome three and the lightest some people say he’s underweight though he just hasn’t have the biggest appetite though Charmy solve this by overeating him every time at the black bulls base.

Ace’s has triple bangs. His hair tends to be wavy or curly depending on the shampoo he uses though. Ace’s pink eyes are probably the most fascinating feature about him.

At home Ace likes wearing clothes that aren’t too tight on him and you can usually spot him wearing a black turtleneck, wool cardigan and white pants. In his outdoor wear he wears of cool tones colours of ice blue, white & normal blue. White gloves and a white long sleeve jumper with an upright collar length down to the hips, the king sleeve has a design in the middle of an icy blue eagle and around that eagle is a magic circle of tap representing the Ideale branch On the bottom are white pants on both sides their are 5 leaf blue clovers descending down his pants, for shoes he wears a type of blue toned icy blue heel going up the pants

Personality

Due to the bullying Ace received from the other noble children Ace has beocme an insecure individual gaining a low self-esteem at a such a young age often getting intimidated by nearly anyone. He tends to get clingy in fields of defenselessness one leading example would be at royal banquets, Ace would always hide underneath Nebra’s dress throughout the entire banquet. Always having his guard up he overthinks nearly any of his movements afraid to disappoint anyone and often needs something to fiddle with. A trait Ace holds is determination, according to Asta, Ace holds more determination than he could of had, a case to prove it would be going up against a devil being 11 to protect the clover castle. However Ace starts to change when meeting Helreignn he slowly becomes more confident in his skills.

Traits

Determination

Good heart

Emotional

Kindness

Selflessness

Self Indulgence

Stubborn

Observant

Relationships

Family

Nebra Silva

Nebra has been the closest to Ace’s heart since skin to skin contact. No matter when or what these two would always have ball arts and crafts, bath time, studying time, his mummies arms were the warmest to him. Through the bullying of the noble children they would call him the “abusers child” this would be the time Ace found out about his mummy and Solid abused Noelle for 15 years at first believing this was nonsense to him until he asked the question. Soon Ace accepted that his mummy had change and the two reconnected their bond.

Zora Silva

Zora had introduced Ace to commoner life when he was a toddler and taught him the importance of that money isn’t everything, Ace is grateful for all the important lessons Zora taught him because without them Ace would just be another arrogant royal. The relationship between Zora and Ace is healthy. Zora would always supported Ace when he was in lows and even talk about his glorious adventures of being a supermage until he fell asleep.

Josslyn Silva

The relationship between Josslyn and Ace has its highs and lows. Ace knew from a young age how intimidating his sister could be and due to the bulllying Ace sorta of grew to have be frightened of his sister knowing that she could do the same thing to him. On one ocassion Josslyn saw Ace getting laughed at by other noble children however she did nothing about it, Ace assumed Josslyn didn’t loved him. This was never the case Josslyn had always cared for Ace knowing how fragile he is and feels ashamed to be called a “sister” for never standing up to the bullies

Nozel Silva

Ace never liked Nozel. Ace can remember memories of his mother and Nozel fighting day and night. Ace would always get nervous when interacting with Nozel afraid that he would take out his anger on him.

Solid Silva

Ace dosen’t have a problem with Solid knowing what he had done in the past was not okay he has learned to accept his past. Solid would always make Ace smile and bring out his inner child with his sarcastic humour.

Noelle Silva

Ace thinks of Noelle as an inspiration and often wonders what strength it took to become such a powerful magic knight. At times he would still ponder why she looked so much like his grandmother. Overall Ace adores Noelle and loves seeing her out in the battlefield and is proud to carry the same last name as her. Sometimes Ace goes to Noelle for love advice.

Asta

Ace is the willcarrier of Asta. Being the closest to him in the family other than his parents. Ace loves hanging onto Asta’s arms like a monkey even spending some days sitting on his lap doing cool wizard king duties as well as following him around, one time Ace joined Asta for the magic knight entrance exam. Figuring Ace was a devil vessel Asta couldn’t be more excited to be train him the guy smiled liked an idiot knowing he was following in captain Yami’s footsteps. Starting to train underneath the strongest magic knight Ace was over the moon and couldn’t be more ready. Overall Ace’s views Asta as someone he can relax and be himself, Ace dosen’t know what he wants to be in the future but with the help of Asta he knows he can overcome anything.

Haskell Silva

Haskell is the few among his family members were he doesn’t mind relaxing around, Haskell is someone he can always rely on and tell anything to him. Having an age gap of 9 years, Haskell was in his royal studies but he made sure to visit Ace in the nursery and play games, one of their favourite games was “teacher” when one would play teacher and the other one played “student”. Ace sees Haskell as a kind,funny and warm person who knows his right and wrongs another characteristic Ace liked about Haskell was his magic affinity, Star magic. Star magic was an attribute Ace would of loved to have.

Acier Silva

Fom a young age Ace was sure to know who were his grandparents. Being the grandson of the dancing princess of the battlefield was a huge honour to him. Ace heard stories of his grandmother from the seniors of his family and magic knight would always dreamed of seeing her on the battlefield , fighting, protecting all of it sounded exciting and yet remarkable, yes he did imagine at some stages that Noelle was Acier but he never told a soul.

Zara Ideale

Similar to Acier, Ace would of loved to meet his grandfather though sadly he passed way too early. Despite all the negativity it was good to know that his grandfather had a such an influence on the magic knights and idolise kinghts like them, knights who have a strong sense of justice and pledge thmselves to the kingdom.

Liebe

Ace considers Liebe as apart of the family. He views him as someone he can relate too often going to him for advice though Liebe soon distance himself because of the life energy raidainting of a devil dwelling within Ace.

Fearsome three/Light Traid

Karra Marron

Ace have been crushing on Karra for years the reason behind it haven’t be reavealed yet. These two have been close since diaper days often spending their time playing tag in the fields or talking in general. When Ace started forming a crush on Karra he started turning red and becoming nervous to even be in the same room as her though overall Ace sees Karra one of the toughest girls he knows thinking Karra has the potential to against the world and would risk his own life to protect her.

Mirage Adlai

Mirage is Karra’s only male friend his age and the two have been the best of bros since their first meeting. Ace can’t help himself but laugh whenever Mirage goes into “Grey mode” to him it’s like watching a mirror or so he finds it funny or dissponinting. Both dealing with Karra’s antics Mirage and Ace often teaming up forming the most motherly duo in clover history. Mainly Ace is lucky to have Mirage to stick around with him for so many years he dosen’t nescessarily see him as a rival, well not yet.

Others

Helreignn Lokadóttir

Ace meets Helreignn in his shapeshift form at the start of White Clover at first Ace is intimadted by his phrases thing but overtime Ace grows to be more curious about the man that has been dwelling within him for him for years, having questions about the underworld, the devil king, white devil, why did he choose him, etc, etc.

Genji

Ace can trust Genji with his life. The two of them are really close often in his fox form Genji would provide Ace warmth without thinking he would notice but he did. Ace is amazed by the strength he had to hold on for over 5 centuries grateful for entering his life.

Battle Powers

Magic

Arrow magic: This power allows Ace to manipulate and create blue arrows during conscious and unconscious hours

Abilities

Devil-Possessed: Ace is connected to the white devil, Helreignn, who possess numeral magic affinities with his main one being Arrow Magic, which grants him access to energy

Keen Intellect: Beyond his insecure personality Ace has shown to be thoughtful and intelligent throughout all the challenges he faces. He tends to acknowledge what the circumstances are and understands what’s at risk.

High Observation Skills: Helreignn noted that Ace has high observation skills taking note of the smallest of details and observing others battle tacktics analyzing and apply

Physical Strength 1/5

Magic Amount 5/5

Magic Control 3/5

Magic sensing 4/5

Cleverness 5/5

His love for Christmas 5/5

Trivia

Ace is named after his grandmother, Acier.

Ace and Licita share the same birthday (February 26th)

Favorite food is Avocado

Likes are butterflies, sunflowers, soft sunsets/sunrises

Compared to Asta he is Asta’s pollar oppsoite

Originally Ace was intended to have silver hair but this was changed to red hair saving the silver hair for a later design

Arrow magic was inspired by Aang’s arrow tattoo

Butterflies are attracted to Ace often grazing his face of flying into his hand gracefully no one knows how it happens even Ace

[what-is-your-plan-today]

Leave No One Behind: Meet the Characters

Leave No One Behind- An Ari Levinson fanfic by @what-is-your-plan-today​ and @icanfeelastormbrewing​.

Character Profiles.

A/N- There isn’t much character development really over RSDR, and very little is known about our Characters’ back ground...so we have used a combination of fiction and facts either delivered by the film or what we have found via research on Mossad, the history of the Jewish people in the 40s through 80s and our imagination to bring this to you. It is, historically, as factually correct as we can make it, but if anything is wrong, we mean no offence. Take it as slight creative license...

"For wise guidance, you can wage your war."

All ages correct as of 1979

Name: Ari David Levinson 

Alias: Guy Thomas. 

Age 36-Born in 1943.

Background:  Ari's mother, Amira Levinson was as Holocaust survivor, part of the 4,500 Jewish Immigrants who were carried from France to Palestine in 1947 on the SS Exodus, where they were refused entry. A British Soldier, Steven Thomas, took pity on Ari's mother and she surrendered her son to him for fear he would otherwise die. A year or so later, Steven Thomas met and fell in love with an American Woman, Edith Johnson and they married and moved to America. Ari returned to Israel age 18 to find his roots and embark on his University studies of Anthropology.

Ari has been a Mossad agent since he was 24. He joined in 1967 alongside best friend Sammy who he met aged 23 through Mutual Friends. Ari quickly became one of the most experienced Field Operatives around, specialising in extraction missions and intelligence gathering.

After a will they/won’t they/ they did fling of sorts with Hannah, which lasted 3 months or so, Ari met his wife Sarah in August 1971 and after a whirlwind relationship that left her pregnant, married in early 1972. Their daughter, Maya was born August that year.

Personality Traits: Ari is kind hearted with the desire to help people, but this drive and need to make a difference has made him selfish in some ways and neglectful of his family life, often putting his anthropology and vocation first. He is also stubborn and rarely known to back down when he feels he is right and is most certainly NOT a man with a plan, preferring to fly by the seat of his pants which at times means putting himself and his team in danger at times, although this is never done on purpose.

Simply put he doesn't know when to stop, but will genuinely move heaven and Earth to help anyone in need.

*****************

Name: Hannah Maria Horowitz (nee Navon Garcia) (OFC)

Alias: Rosa-Maria Gomez 

Age 29-Born in 1950

Face Claim- Lyndsy Fonseca

Background:   Hannah was born in Tel-Aviv to an American Jewish Father and a Spanish Catholic Mother, Hannah and Sammy's Mother fled the growing unrest in Spain to New York in 1935 aged 17. There she trained as a nurse and met their father. The two married in 1940 before Ethan was posted to Europe during the 2nd WW. After seeing first-hand the horror his people suffered in the Holocaust, upon his return Ethan became a Conscientious Objector and moved his wife and son to Tel Aviv in 1949, where he took up a post in the Israeli Government looking at how to help fellow persecuted Jews who were scattered across the globe. In 1949 he was one of the founding members of the Central Institute for Coordination which was a central body designed to coordinate and improve cooperation between the existing security services. This later became Mossad.

Following a short battle polio, Hannah’s father died when she was just 5 years old. Both her parents work and desire to help others inspired her to follow in her brother's footsteps and train as a Doctor. Hannah joined Mossad in 1973 aged 23 through as part of her Father’s Legacy and was one of the first Females ever to be deployed into the field. As a Field Doctor she was called to go wherever the need took her, and this includes running a number of operations as part of teams headed up by Ari. Through her links with Mossad she met Andy Horowitz, one of her brother and Ari's protégées and the two married in 1975. Andy was killed on a mission 8 months later in 1976. This spurred Hannah to leave Mossad behind and work at the Surgery her Mother set up in her Father's Memory.

Personality Traits: Hannah is a free spirit, very bohemian with an extremely fierce temper at times and a stubborn streak to rival Ari's. Being somewhat 7 years her brother's junior has led to her being mature beyond her years but also sometimes naive in the way she always tries to see the best in people, even if they possess few redeeming qualities. Hannah wears her heart on her sleeve, and does nothing by halves... including falling in love. The death of her husband left her reeling and for the first time ever questioning her life decisions. 

*****************

Name: Samuel Ethan Navon Garcia (Sam or Sammy)

Alias: Liam Anderson 

Age 36 Born in 1943

Background: Older brother to Hannah, 7 years her senior, Sammy was born in New York and moved to Tel-Aviv aged 6 following his father’s decision to join the Israeli Government. Following the death of his father when he was 12, seeing the care he was given inspired Sammy to become a Doctor and later a surgeon. He met Ari aged 23 in 1966 through mutual friends and the two bonded instantly over a shared desire, vision and passion to help fellow Jews who remained scattered across the globe and still suffering persecution.

Sammy joined Mossad 1967 as a Field Doctor, working alongside Ari on many an extraction mission whilst maintaining his regular role as a surgeon when not away active service. Sammy suffered a severe injury on one mission in 1973 after his right hand was damage by a knife in combat and this left him unable to perform surgery any longer.

Personality Traits: Sammy is extremely similar to his sister in a lot of ways, yet different in many too. Stubborn and opinionated, but more logical, able to let his brain rule his heart. This leads him to clash with Ari on many occasions over missions where he feels Ari is being reckless where he doesn’t need to be. Where Hannah is concerned, he is well aware she can fight her own battles, and for the most leaves well alone. However, when the chips are down the protective big brother rears his head and Hannah can find this overbearing at times, but frankly he doesn't care! 

***************

Name: Maxwell James Rose (Max)

Alias: Irving Wilmington

Age 34 Born in 1946

Background: Max was born to Jewish Immigrants in Queens, New York. Best friends with Andy Horowitz (Hannah's husband) since childhood, the 2 joined the army once old enough and were later head hunted for a number of  one-off specialist missions by Ari after they came to his attention when the US army provided back up on a few of his operations. They joined Mossad full time in 1972 and were as inseparable then as they had been all their lives. When Andy died in 1976, Max continued to run a number of missions before leaving the service in 1978 and becoming a Mercenary, working for whichever intelligence agency wished to hire him. He considers Hannah one of his best friends, and she does him.

Personality Traits:  Max is quite similar to Hannah in that they both live life to the full and take no prisoners. He is, however, a lot more placid but that means when he does lose it, it is done in spectacular fashion. His good humour and overall placid nature mean he is often able to diffuse many a situation and therefore is often the peace-keeper of the group, even if this role is unintentional. His one weakness, however, is food…and if you want him to do anything for you, he will in exchanged for a decent burger or sandwich.

**************

Name: Rachel Reiter 

Alias: Angela Bluchel

Age 31 Born in 1948

Background:  Born in Munich, Germany, Rachel is the only child of 2 German Jews. After hearing her parents stories of the Holocaust, Rachel desired to also make a difference. As part of the recruitment drive in the early 70s, Rachel joined the Israeli Government and moved into Mossad in the same training intake as Hannah, the two of whom were the first ever women agents to be deployed. She married Brandon Cole, an American, in 1974 an had two children, divorcing in 1979. She remained part of Mossad, however opting to run low- key missions to minimise time away from her family.

Personality Traits:  Rachel is your typical matriarch and being a mother has fallen into that natural role within the group. Old before her years she is logical, kind but also possesses a wickedly fast and logical brain. Alongside Max she often finds herself keeping the peace, specifically between Hannah, Ari and Sammy the three of whom seem to cause her a constant tension headache. 

**************

Name: Jacob Thomas Wolf (Jake) 

Alias: Luca Morano

Age 32 Born in 1947

Background:  Jake is the only one of the group with no specialist Mossad Intelligence service training. Jake was born in Jerusalem to native parents and joined the Navy aged 20. A specialist Diver, he was hand-picked to run a few missions with Ari when required before leaving the Navy in 1976  to become a diving instructor in Central America.  

Personality Traits: Jake embodies what everyone thinks of as they typical 60s spirit. He is laid back, willing to go with the flow, but possesses a very analytical eye which can enable him to see the bigger picture where often others can't. Often found topping up his tan in-between diving sessions, Jake has a dirty sense of humour, and absolutely no sense of when it is appropriate or not to use it. 

*********

Name: Ethan Levin 

Alias: N/A

Age 54 Born in 1925

Background: Ethan joined Mossad aged 26 in 1951 after being spotted by Ethan Navon, who became his Personal and Professional Mentor until his death. Ethan fast rose through the ranks and is now the Head Intelligence Officer within Mossad, and the long suffering boss of Ari Levinson. Reporting directly into the Mossad Chief, Ethan is responsible for the coordination of the Key Undercover Operative Team, of which Ari is a member.

Personality Traits: Ethan is clever, logical and attempts to keep the rabble in check by obtaining a level of control of Ari, and commanding their respect. Having known Hannah and Sammy's dad, he is naturally a little protective over the two of them, well as much as he can be without showing direct favouritism. Despite his crisp exterior, Ethan cares and believes intently in the job his team are doing, and will back them as far as he is able. He sees Ari as a potential replacement to take his mantle when the time is right.

And there we have it!! Keep your eyes peeled for our first Chapter which is coming in the next few days!! As always, any asks/tag requests gratefully received...

[insfiringyou]

BTS girlfriend series - their Hogwarts houses

This list is comprised of our headcanon OC girlfriends for each member. Find out more about the girls here.

To read each member and their girlfriends’ fics in order, follow links below:

RM   /   Jin /   Suga /   J-Hope   /   Jimin   /   V   /   Jungkook

Check out our full masterlist for all works including the full images of original fanart of the girlfriends.

(To those curious, Admin M is a Slytherin and Admin N a Ravenclaw)

Ji-eun (RM’s girlfriend) 

Incredibly ambitious, we see Ji-eun as a Slytherin. She is someone who has had to work very hard to get to where she is within her career; often having to use her cunning intellect to get ahead and break the glass-ceiling which exists in Korea for many women. Although she is social and has a wide circle of acquaintances, including some of the other girlfriends, we do think she sometimes exhibits traits which may be seen as unfavourable, such as bitching about people when drunk, becoming quite rude when she feels threatened or backed into a corner (such as during ‘Boat Party’) and acting jealous towards other women (such as when she believes her boyfriend to be ‘checking out’ the waitress). Despite this, she is a fiercely loyal and passionate girlfriend who would fight for her relationship, no matter what. She also is aware when she takes things too far and often feels remorse for the way she has behaved, though she sometimes finds it hard to admit. She finds being alone without anything to do very difficult, and prefers to immerse herself in her work when Namjoon is not around, often staying late at the office most nights. She would have achieved slightly better than average grades at school, but would have really thrived in her post-graduate education once she found a passion for her specialist subject of Law.

Min-seo (Jin’s wife)

Although she exhibits some Hufflepuff traits including being very trusting and quite shy, we think ultimately Min-seo would be sorted into Gryffindor house. She is someone who is very family-orientated and would protect and defend her husband Jin at all costs. Although she can be timid when among large groups and hates being the centre of attention, she also exhibits moments of bravery and is not afraid to speak up if needed. This is perhaps best seen in Boat Party, when she defends RM against his girlfriend who is bitching about him. She also is incredibly sweet and kind, with a very good heart (this is perhaps best seen during her wedding to Jin where she observes Suga sat alone and invites him to dance with her). Although she does not have a wide group of friends, she is fairly sociable and hates being alone for long periods of time, finding herself becoming restless and bored. She would have achieved average grades at school and would have enjoyed most classes more or less equally.

Jeong-sun (Suga’s wife)

Jeong-sun is someone who is very calm and handles herself well under pressure. She is emotionally intelligent and, while not ‘bookish’, loves to read to pass the time, often being found with a crumpled Stephen King paperback when she is bored. We naturally see her as a Ravenclaw. She is incredibly independent and gets a lot of solace out of spending time by herself and having her own space to unwind. She is also incredibly witty, with a quick and dry sense of humour which matches Yoongi’s perfectly. She is not overly showy or ‘try-hard’, and comes across as humble and grounded. While she does not possess the vast range of general knowledge that Yoongi exhibits, she does have a lot of more specialist knowledge within her field, and also is someone who has a good grasp of current affairs and issues, such as global politics and social talking points, which means she can naturally discuss a wide range of topics, and can talk for hours on end about anything and everything. Although she does not earn a lot of money, she is very sensible and ‘pennywise’ with what she does have, and does not covet lavish or expensive things. Jeong-sun would have achieved surprisingly good grades at school and was in the top percent of her university class. She would have naturally thrived in Mathematics and Business related courses, as well as Literature, though would be less good at Physical Education, Art and Music. 

Nana (J-Hope’s girlfriend)

Nana is unquestionably a Hufflepuff; someone who wears her heart on her sleeve and is very quick to trust people. She has a love of all living things, from plants and animals to the people around her, and tries to see the best in everyone. Environmentally conscious, she hates throwing things away (which would mean her house always looks quite chaotic) and nothing frustrates her more than people who litter! Growing up, adults who met her would consider her to be a little ‘away with the fairies’ or someone who ‘marches to the beat of their own drum’. She is not overly concerned about following trends or fads, and her fashion sense is often discordant and a little old-fashioned and frumpy. She can be highly emotional at times and is quick to break into tears, especially when she is feeling drained from her job. Although she loves company, she is never bored when alone; having an array of hobbies she naturally turns to such as various crafts and dog walking. Although she is not traditionally academic, Nana would have gained better than average grades at school, having worked hard for her exams. 

Ara (Jimin’s girlfriend)

Ara is someone who is very loyal, both in relationships and her friendships, and values people’s trust in her very highly. We see her as a Hufflepuff, though she shares some traits with Gryffindor and Slytherin. She has a strong work ethic and is not afraid to go out of her comfort zone and experience new things. She is someone who had a hard upbringing, having lost her mother at a young age and supporting her father in bringing up her younger sibling, and likewise experienced bullying which has had a lasting impact on her self-esteem. She is relatively sociable, but also does not get easily bored when alone; enjoying simple things such as listening to music or online shopping. While she is not overly ambitious and often needs encouragement in achieving her dreams, she would find she is naturally able to get ahead in life through her social connections and personality. She is not especially academic and may have slightly underachieved at school, but she is someone who would be highly valued within her friendship circle for her kind, caring nature. 

Cassandra (V’s girlfriend)

Incredibly artistic and creative, Cassandra would be a Ravenclaw. She is someone who has a wide knowledge of books, films, musicians and artists and who loves to learn more about her interests. While she would not have been an overachiever at school, she has a cool intelligence gained from reading about her interests in her own time, travelling and visiting museums and galleries as well as watching films and documentaries. Her favourite subjects would be Literature, Fine Art and History. She is ambitious, but struggles to achieve her dreams of making it big in the theatre world; while she is a competent and quirky actress, she suits the arthouse scene more than maintsream, particularly as she does not fit the typical Korean standards for beauty and has a chequered past, including as a nude life model. Although she can be hot-headed at times, she is kind and considerate to others and also cares deeply about social issues such as feminism, LGBT+ rights and battling social norms or societal constructions. She would have an interest in politics, but would oppose many aspects of modern government; considering herself more liberal. 

Young-soon (Jungkook’s girlfriend)

Incredibly patient and hard-working, Young-soon is a Gryffindor. She is someone who loves her family and values her friendships and relationships with other people, but also is content to sometimes spend time alone. At school, she would have gained slightly above average grades, with her favourite subjects being Mathematics and Business. She is not overly ambitious but instead values being in a position where she is comfortable and good at her job. She works hard and is good at taking a leadership role due to her ability to stay calm when in public. In private, her emotions sometimes overboil, though she would hate it if anyone saw her this way, not wanting to appear vulnerable. She is not overly academic or bookish, but instead likes to unwind by watching television or working out. She is incredibly loyal to her boyfriend, but will stand up for herself, even if it requires a lot of courage. She is likewise forgiving in nature, and tries to see the best in people or give them the benefit of the doubt, even if it does not come immediately. 

***

To read each member & their girlfriend’s headcanon universe fics in order, follow the links here: RM   /   Jin  /   Suga  /   J-Hope   /   Jimin   /   V   /   Jungkook & Our full masterlist can be found here

You can support us by buying admins a coffee here (if you wish). :)

[smalltowndetective]

25-28 for whichever detective you want to talk about most!!! hopefully that’s not too many hehe (ily and your writing SO MUCH OMG 💕✨💖🥺)

Hi! :) Thank you for asking! ❤  (And I’ve been somewhat down on my writing lately, it means so much to me you have no idea)

Your writing is amazing! I always love reading it! ❤❤❤

But I’ve been looked at these for a while, trying to figure out who to answer for. And well, since I can’t choose, I’ll just do all four! (And put my answers under the cut because my answers, as always, get very long)

My detectives- Thea Holland (Felix), Natasha Trexler (Adam), Pearl Reid (Nate), and Mariana “Mari” Gonzales (Mason)

25. What do they find funny? Do they have a good sense of humour? Are they funny themselves?

26. How do they act when they’re happy? Do they sing? Dance? Hum? Or do they hide their emotions?

27. What makes them sad? Do they cry regularly? Do they cry openly or hide it? What are they like they are sad?

28. What is their biggest fear? What in general scares them? How do they act when they’re scared?

25. What do they find funny? Do they have a good sense of humour? Are they funny themselves?

Thea Holland (Felix)- Thea is not a fan of overly crude humor, nor anything that may seem to tear anyone else down, favoring quick wit over anything else. Anything with the slightest bit of word play is normally something that she would find funny, and it is something that she also has in her own sense of humor. Of all my detectives, Thea is probably the best at laughing at herself, being able to push down her embarrassment  and always keep a quite good sense of humor about it. Now, as far as her being funny herself, she doesn’t normally make jokes at all, that not being her first instinct when meeting with and talking with others, but there are moments where she’ll say something more bold then she normally would, and it still makes the team a bit stunned even after all of this time together. And while you may not see this side of her much, it is there, and the team will likely see more and more of the more humorous side of her (I would say that Felix is also good at pulling that side of her as well haha!) 

Natasha Trexler (Adam)- Natasha is not really the type to make jokes at all. She’s a bit too stoic for that, preferring to appear as serious and professional as possible. Now, she does find Felix’s jokes quite funny, but she’ll never actually admit that aloud, normally just rolling her eyes at them. She appreciates them a lot, and even if it is not the way that she would handle herself, she likes them a lot. It’s harder to define her own sense of humor. Natasha takes herself far too seriously (which some of my other detectives would find hilarious at the way that she does so haha) But something that she really finds funny? Normally dryer, satirical humor. A lot of things along these lines she thinks, but would never actually say. However, and I’m totally going to start gushing about late relationship Natasha and Adam because the idea of it is all that is keeping me through all the angst haha. Around Adam, she doesn’t feel like she has to hold all of those back anymore, and since I would say they share similar senses of humor, it’s really kind of sweet. 

Pearl Reid (Nate)- Pearl well, is my, as the secretary at the hospital in Book 1 said “a detective with sarcasm”, and well, that’s definitely true. She loves making jokes just about everything, they almost seeming to flood out of her at all times, and while she’ll normally lead to sarcasm, she has a great sense of humor about herself, and always loves to joke about anything. And well, since her humor is often based on my own stupid sense of humor, I think she’s quite funny. (And, even with Adam at the receiving end of a lot of it, Pearl always somehow ends up with the highest amount of friendship points with him, which is always so funny to me. I think it’s her workaholic nature? Not sure, but I love the dynamic haha) Now, this is going to get sadder then the others will, but kind of the same way that Nate does, she has the tendency to deflect, and her humor is her way of doing it. It’s the way that she tries to seem like she’s doing okay, even though she has a lot of parts of herself that she is never sure quite how to deal with. But Nate makes her want to open up that part of herself like no one she has known, and slowly, she has started to do so, hoping that she more she share about herself, things she is personally uncomfortable with, he’ll feel like he can come to her when he’s ready.

Mariana “Mari” Gonzales- Mari and Mason have the same sense of humor, so if that doesn’t tell you anything, I don’t know what does haha. Which, I suppose, is something that drew her to him the first time they met in her office. (With that whole “Charmed” “You shouldn’t be”) Mari would have probably answered the same way, and it was something that she appreciated, and was something that made her want her want to learn more about the brooding man in her office. She normally has a pretty good sense of humor about everything, and it can get into self-deprecating occasionally, which I’m not sure how the rest of the team sees it haha. Just like Pearl, she is makes fun of Adam constantly, but he is not her best friend in the Unit. (That honor goes to Nate haha, who surprisingly, I find compliment her more brash ways pretty well. N friendships with M detectives if really where it is at) And now if she is funny herself, just in a different way then the others, and will always take that moment, even if the situation doesn’t exactly warrant it. (Like the beginning of the Book 3 demo haha!)

26. How do they act when they’re happy? Do they sing? Dance? Hum? Or do they hide their emotions?

Thea- Thea very much wears her heart on her sleeve, and so this goes for her feelings as well. If she’s happy, you’ll know. She might say much to anyone about it without being prompted, but she makes not effort to hide how she is feeling. (Just as Tina how Thea has been since Felix and the rest of the team came back to Wayhaven ha!) And if you give her the okay to share what’s making her happy with her, she’ll slowly, almost unsurely, start talking about it. (She’s been a few situations which have left her with the belief that no one wants to hear about herself, even though she’ll always encourage people to talk about what’s on their mind with her) But that bright gentle smile is the biggest hint to how happy she is, almost making the whole room seem brighter. Thea also hums to herself when she doing work, especially if there is no music in the background, it filling the otherwise quiet. She doesn’t like overly noisy places, but the small hints of a melody is always something that she enjoys. And with Felix and her becoming an official couple, that smile has not fully disappeared from her face since then. At times, it doesn’t feel real to her, perhaps all a dream, but it something that she will treasure and protect forever.

Natasha- In the complete opposite to Thea, Natasha does not wear her feelings openly at, and at first glance, it can be hard to tell if she has more moods then slightly annoyed and strict professionalism. After a disastrous breakup with Bobby, she became even more closed off, keeping everyone at harms length, and the way that she rationalized that she wouldn’t get hurt again was to never let herself be open to anyone. This includes her positive emotions as well, so she normally never lets herself openly be happy at all. The smallest hint of this, which is something that Adam is figuring out, if that small smile, not showing any teeth smile, a smile that is only directed to him. I don’t even know how much she’s aware that she does this, but it is something that Adam has definitely noticed. And on the topic of Adam angst, Natasha was happier then she had ever been in at least years, if not her entire life, at the night at the carnival, gently letting Adam hold her hand if he wanted to. And for the first time in forever, she made no effort to hide how happy she was. (And for course, once everything went back to how it was before with Adam, this destroyed her. She had finally let herself open slightly to him, so for him to just take 10 steps back afterward hurt her deeply, but she’ll never admit that, treating it as professionally as she can)

Pearl- Pearl gets very talkative when she’s happy, and will gladly talk your ear off if you let her haha. She’s a storyteller at heart, and loves to be able to take people through what happened, and then to hear what’s going on with them that’s good, even with the smallest littler things. There is almost a spring in her step when she’s in high spirits. (which she spends a good portion of Book 2 in haha!) One thing that I do want to write at some point is just her realization that she and Nate are dating now at the end of Book 2, perhaps after she gets back to her apartment, and just the true happiness that fills her (And with the promise of angst in the N route, Pearl deserves some happiness before all of that comes down haha!) Pearl does plenty of hiding parts of herself, but happiness is not one of them, and once she is, she makes it her mission to make everyone else smile as well, with all of the jokes that she can muster. :)

Mari- Mari is a harder one to tell in this regard. She normally keeps everything, with a very easygoing look to things, just “it is what it is” kind of outlook to life. (The only time she’ll be stubborn is with Adam ha!) Another thing that makes this harder, is all out of what is making her happy recently is things that she doesn’t understand why she feels this way. Mari had gotten in a “relationship” with Mason with the intent of it being a fling and absolutely nothing more, but then there are softer moments between them? And they make her happy? She isn’t quite sure what to do with all exactly, not thinking it would ever end up in this way, so it is a bit harder to tell for her. It’s happiness, and also confusion, and it is just this mix of emotions that I absolutely love. But with everything else besides romantic relationships? Tina is very much Mari’s soul sister, so if something good happens, she’s the first person she messages, and the two of them could end up talking for hours. I know that there is big talk of Unit Bravo and the detective being a found family (which I adore don’t get me wrong), but the reason why Mari is still in Wayhaven in the first place, even though she likes the city more is because of the family-ish vibes she has with Tina. With a sour relationship with her mother, she has never really had that before, and so it means a lot to her. (And of all my detectives, she’s probably the quickest to adopt Bravo as the same, Thea a close second)

27. What makes them sad? Do they cry regularly? Do they cry openly or hide it? What are they like they are sad?

Thea- Unlike happiness, sadness is something that she tries desperately to hide, though people seem to know how she’s feeling anyway. Of all my detectives, Thea cares the most about what people think about her, so even with her best efforts they don’t, this is something that really makes her upset. (Trying to wait to talk about her fears to the next question haha) Thea does have a lot of guilt about everything that has happened in Wayhaven, from being unable to stop Murphy before Garrett Hayes’s murder, to Sanja’s death and beyond. These failures haunt her, and it is something that she can’t quite shake. I do think that she cries quite regularly about it, but is is all hidden, believing that not anyone would want to have to deal with her like that. The only person who’ll she cry openly in front of? Felix. Like in the end of Book 2. Even with the whisper in her head that she’s just annoying him and he has no reason to care about this at all, she let herself do it anyway, and his comfort was enough. (And now, I’ve made myself sad) But, I on the topic on what she is like sad, she’s quieter then normal, barely speaking at all, her smiles very obviously masking. But she doesn’t want to drag anyone down with her own feelings, so she’ll do her best to move forward with it anyway, as much as it hurts.

Natasha- Natasha keeps sadness just as tightly locked as her feelings for happiness. She is still deeply affected by her breakup with Bobby, but you’ll never know this. It takes so much for her to trust someone, and to have that thrown to the side, well, she’s had trouble trusting that others won’t do the same to her since. Now, back onto that night at the carnival. While we do not know much anything about the immediate aftermath of hand holding/shoulder lean, what I have for now is that the next day, when she found out that Adam had just pushed two of the further apart. She had to take a minute to be alone, where a few tears probably feel, but she put herself back into the “I have to keep my composure” mood pretty quickly, not daring to ever let anyone know how much it affected her. A second thought went through her head next, which was “If he wants to make this a professional relationship, fine. He can have it this way” And even though I don’t think this happens in the actual book, Natasha started reverting back to using Commanding Agent instead of his name, which she was starting to use more of, but he quite literally ruined that with one fell swoop. And how she is when she is sad, if you do try to talk to her, her tone come across as very sharp and harsh without really meaning to, it her own protection mechanism to hide just how hurt she is.

Pearl- Pearl does everything that she can to avoid being sad, more for the people around her. She has gone through many periods of self doubt and personal struggles, which never fail to bring her back to a darker place, but she pushes forward anyway, hoping that the future will be just as bright as she is hoping it is. She is more likely to cry out of frustration, pretty openly as well, then out of sadness. (which I feel like might happen more and more with how the future books are looking haha!) Sadness in others always kind of makes her panic, and she always rushes to try and fix it, sometimes not being very successful at all, but she does try her best in that regard. When she is sad, it is not the most obvious thing, but there is almost a catch in her voice in her normal tongue and cheek comments, her smile not as wide, and while it is something that many people would overlook, Nate definitely notices. Pearl did save Sanja over Nate, and Nate ending up the way that he did is something that won’t quite leave her alone. She has already decided that if she has to do something like this again, she’s going to save Nate. She knows it’s selfish, but she isn’t sure if she could go through that panic again.

Mari- Mari is especially hard to tell when she is feeling down at all, the only people really able to tell are Tina and (just starting to) Mason. She doesn’t really talk about the things that bother her all that much, preferring to hide it all instead of actually doing something about it. One thing that makes her sad is her relationship with her mother, as angry as she is about her being absent during her childhood. She wishes it didn’t have to be the way that it is now, and as much as her sudden involvement does not make up for anything, she is open (as of the Book 3 demo) to finally maybe work on that relationship. She knows that they’ll never be very close, but it is a step not to attack her every time she shows concern to her. Mari very rarely cries, even with things that truly affect her, but on the very rare occasion that she is, her fears of looking vulnerable fall away, and it doesn’t matter just how many people see. (Again, very rare circumstances) When she is sad, she normally has her eyes most downcast then normal, avoiding eye contact, which unless you know her very well, this will not come off as anything weird, especially with her sharp words. 

28. What is their biggest fear? What in general scares them? How do they act when they’re scared?

Thea- Well for Thea, it is pretty much tied for rejection and loss, the two kind of working together. She has been in situations in which the other person didn’t share her feelings, and she is terrified of this happening again with Felix, doing or saying something stupid that would push him away. With all of her Murphy nightmares, being quite traumatized by what happened, the nightmare that scares her the most is just everything being gone between them, as if it never happened. And one thing that does replay in her nightmares about Murphy is being dragged away while Felix stayed unmoving on the ground. She is so scared of losing him, in death and in the relationship sense. (That “I’m scared of losing you too” line in the demo? Just wow, the amount spoken for Thea in that line) Her fears of loss and rejection also directly tie into her relationship with her mother. Thea did everything she could to keep that relationship strong, it being very one sided in that aspect, because as a child and even now, she feared that if she did not, her mother would leave and never come back, and she’ll be alone. It was one of the reasons why she did so well in school, because she thought that if she was a good child, she wouldn’t leave her behind. And well, some missions do tend to freak her out as well. (She was very on edge with that whole talk with Falk). When she is scared, Thea normally tries to put on a brave face, making sure everyone else is okay and putting others before herself, but the uncertain look in her eyes and the slight trembling in her voice is enough to show how she is truly feeling.

Natasha- Natasha’s biggest fear is the loss of control in her life. (This ties into her fear of the ocean, it being way too vast and unpredictable) She is a planner, she makes schedules, she follows them to a T, keeping her on track. She had the next few years planned out when she became a detective of all the things that she wanted to do to help the town, only to have her mother and Unit Bravo burn them as soon as they walked into her office in Book 1. She was so used to how her life was, and now with the supernatural, it is making her more and more anxious with the fact that she’ll never get her life back. And at the second that she thought she had so much control over her feelings, Adam goes and throws a wrench it that. As more and more things continue to pile up, it is getting harder and harder for her to take, both with the supernatural and the whole thing with Adam. (She is scared of not being able to figure out what is going with Adam until it is too late to say anything, but she’ll never admit that) When she is scared, kind of like what happened with Murphy, she goes completely silent, not trusting herself to say anything, and even if she wanted to, her tongue feeling swollen in her mouth anyway. And with the newest trouble that has come to Wayhaven in Book 3, these feelings of losing control are only going to increase, and she might have to face that her life will never be back to her carefully kept plans again.

Pearl- Pearl’s biggest fear is being alone. Not so much in a romantic sense (though this can be applied as well, especially as her and Nate get more serious), but how not having anyone she can turn to get support and to give that support back. She is very much a people person, and she craves that connection with someone. (And with the promise of N angst, I’m very scared of the future for her haha) She has looked in a lot of places for it, some places where she really shouldn’t have looked for it, but her romantic ways got the better of her, and it ends up with her hurt in the end. During the time up to Book 1, she hadn’t been in a relationship in a while, instead trying to figure herself out before thrusting herself into any new relationships. Then she meets Nate, and she is, in her own words, “enchanted” by him pretty quickly, and she continues to relish all of the closeness between them. She has buried the Murphy trauma, which is always something that seems to show its face in the worst of times for her, something that she has not been able to fully get over, as much as she wants to. (She never had a issue with blood before Murphy, but now? She wants nothing to do with it) And when she is scared, quite unsurprisingly, she normally lets her sarcasm lead the way in a attempt to hide just how scared she is. (She also tends to go back to humor when trying to comfort someone else, or even asking someone how they are doing, when she knows something is up) Pearl wants to be there for people, in any way that they will have her.

Mari- Mari’s biggest fear is being vulnerable. She knows that giving someone her heart would just give them the power to destroy her, and she would do anything for this not to happen. And while she can quite rudely tell her mother just how she still resents her, Mari would die if she found out just how much her absences truly hurt her. She’s kept a high wall around the softer parts of herself for so long, only to want to tear that down for Mason of all people. But, at the moment, she is refusing to let them down just yet. It’s not like Mason would do the same for her, right? And until she feels comfortable that she is not the only one with this confusing mess of feelings, she’s going to keep them quite closely fastened to her chest. And well she kind of brushed off with what happened with Murphy, she is haunted by how Mason ended up after she saved Sanja, and it maybe forced her to realize that she did indeed have them in the first place. (Though she is denying that currently) But when she is scared? Mari full on panics. She does not handle fear nor stress very well, and when it is down to the wire, she can make some pretty rash decision she would not have made otherwise. 

This is way more then you asked for, but I hope you like this anyway! :) You are the best! ❤

[lesbiancalkestis]

HAPPY 25th ANNIVERSARY TO STAR TREK VOYAGER, THE BEST TV SHOW IN THE QUADRANT GALAXY UNIVERSE.

To a TV show that has literally changed my life forever in the best way.... one which I found when I needed it the most...

To a badass captain who encouraged me to always look for a peaceful solution, but to know when it’s time to fight my way out. Someone who inspired me to be my best self everyday. Seeing a woman in such a role was life changing. She is the most powerful vision of who I want to be when I grow up.

To a first officer who taught me about the power of true love and loyalty. Whose sense of wonder for the universe inspires me to find the same. He shows that you can be strong in standing up for your beliefs, but still wear your heart on your sleeve.

To a Vulcan first officer whose strategic thinking has made me more strategic myself. And whose struggle with emotions has helped me to better understand the different ways in which we can relate to the world, while we all seek to control our inner turmoil in whatever way we can.

To a Maquis engineer whose story arc went straight to the depths of my heart, and whose struggle with depression helped act as my own wake up call when I was struggling. Her strength and power stay with me always, allowing to be brave in the moments I need it most.

To a hotshot pilot whose development as a person taught me that redemption is always possible, love and happiness and humour are always possible, and acts of goodness even when no one is looking or expecting anything of you are some of the most important acts you can do.

To the incredible former drone who also showed me redemption, but importantly the growth we have as adults when we’ve have traumatic childhoods and other circumstances plaguing is at pivotal moments. We are strong, we will survive, we are borg- stronger together as a collective, but proud individuals.

To the eager ensign who taught me about growing up, swimming when everyone expects you to sink, taking responsibility even when you’re scared you’ll never make it. I want to be as brave when I learn and grow.

To the holographic doctor who showed me the importance of standing up for yourself and the person you know yourself to be. For it is always possible to exceed your programming, even the programming you have created for yourself.

To the Talaxian who became everyone’s best friend, mentor, confidant. I learned from him that the most valuable contribution you can make to others sometimes is just your presence and your willingness to listen. To just show up for people even when you’re afraid of being in the way.

To the Ocampan goddess who taught me true kindness and forgiveness, or how to be a guiding light of goodness when everyone around you is losing hope in even themselves. And yet that doesn’t make you any less of a powerful being.

To the best found family in the universe. Happy 25th birthday.

16th January, 2020

(Premiered 16th January, 1995)

[emptymasks]

Hey! I'd love to hear more about your poto OC! Feel free to take me at @opeletmejustdraw. Very excited for Armand and Lizzy to be buddies

Thank you so much for asking about him!!!

Some facts about Armand Dubois:

24. Half-French, half-English. 5’7”. Can speak both French and English. Tired of getting called short.

Costume designer and sewist.

Sleep? Don’t know her.

Trans-man. Binders didn’t exist back then and he’s not going to bind unsafely (not that there was any safe way to bind) so he wears a stay (corset) under his shirt and has a small enough chest that it works in looking like a flat chest. No one knows Armand is trans, apart from Erik because he’s a creepy stalker man who caught Armand without his shirt on one day and saw the stay he wears underneath. (Armand was working late and alone in the workshop and thought it would be fine to take off the stay so he’d be a little more comfortable.)

Introverted and shy. Finds it hard to instigate conversations, but if someone else comes up and starts talking to him he’ll start to open up more, especially if they get him talking about his work.

Has severe eczema and normally wears long sleeves and high collars to cover up his skin so others can’t see how badly his skin is affected by it. Becomes instantly agitated and anxious if someone sees any of the affected skin and asks about it. He hates how his skin looks. (Because why not so full self-insert and give him my pain too right.)

Originally a ballet dancer. He quit after deciding to life his life as a man and started living under a different name. He still loved the ballet and opera, and always had a love for costumes. He’d been sewing since he was a child, making his own clothes for year, and had previously helped out a family member in their tailor’s shop. He worked in the costume department for a while before his drawings and designs got noticed and he was hired as a designer. Designing and making the ballet costumes, practically those for the men, is his favourite thing to do.

Too often he stays up late working on costumes after everyone has gone home because he wanted to add more detail or got another idea or just thinks he needs to work harder because he’s an insecure perfectionist, or sometimes the ghost’s antics cause costumes to get ripped or go missing and he has to last minute fix it or sew a new one. The managers sort of take advantage of this. Do not even talk to him about when Carlotta quit and he had to make all the costumes again so they’d fit Christine for the next evening because they didn’t want to postpone the show. At least he had the idea to only make the skirt for the ‘Think of Me’ costume and keep her existing bodice because skirts are the quickest thing to make. Perfectly fitted bodices? Not so much.

Doesn’t talk about his family. They wouldn’t be okay with him being trans and he hasn’t told them. He wasn’t very close to his family anyway. His parents died when he was young and he was raised by his uncle who was disinterested in him. His uncle wasn’t bothered about him moving to Paris on his own and Armand writes to him once a year at Christmas. Basically just to let him know he hasn’t died yet.

Sometimes gives the ballet dancers advice when Madam Giry isn’t looking. Everyone knows Armand used to be a dancer. Sometimes Armand gets a pang of jealously when watching the male dancers as he used to wish he’d be allowed to dance those parts. But really he gets along well with the dancers and in particular has a little friendship with the male principal dancer.

Very awkward with children. He tries his best but he has no idea what to do when there’s a child there just panics. He has to stop himself from saying his usual tired, self-deprecating humour.

Loves classical music, in particular Tchaikovsky’s scores for the Swan Lake and Sleeping Beauty ballets. With phonographs only just being invented, the only way Armand can listen to the music is to play it himself. When he used to be a ballet dancer he convinced the conductor, who was one of the few good adult figures he had in his early life, to let him borrow the spare conductor’s copy of the score. He then spent every evening, after a full day of dance practice and shows, writing out his own copy by hand (of his favourite pieces since if he’d done the entire score it would have taken forever since there’s almost 300 pages) so he could play them on his piano.

Terrible at sticking up for himself, but if someone talks shit on anyone else than protective-ArmandTM is activated.

Might have a crush on the opera house’s resident ghost because he’s a lonely boy who’s too into gothic romance novels. (I can imagine that’s much to Liz’s confusion). Look, I didn’t say he was smart and made good choices, and it’s not as though he’s had any romantic relationships or any good familial relationships so who knows if he knows what a proper relationship looks like. He just maybe falls for any man who doesn’t treat him like dirt and has either a pretty face or a pretty voice. He’s a gay disaster. To be honest he most likely has a bit of a crush on Raoul.

He’s scared of rats. If he saw one scuttling around on the floor he would immediately, without thinking, pull his feet up onto his stool. He doesn’t know why he’s scared of them, just catching them moving out of the corner of his eye gets his heart racing. It’s fairly easy to make him jump. Erik’s probably going to give this poor boy a heart attack without even meaning to.

Wants boyfriend?? Normally he knows when he’s crushing on someone but somehow it doesn’t click when the male principal dancer at the ballet starts trying to make friends with him that he’s getting a crush but then oh no it hits him suddenly like a train. Now he blushes and gets flustered all the time. The dancer (who I’m basing of Sergei Polunin in the 25th anniversary because I freaked out when I recognised him because he’s one of my favourite dancers, I’d just bought the Royal Ballet’s Alice in Wonderland 2011 DVD with him as the male lead and loved him in it) knows Armand used to be a dancer, as they all do, but didn’t know Armand still practices to keep in shape and also because he loved dancing and is sad sometimes he gave it up. So what if he walks in the studio in the evening and Armand is practising and the dancer (who needs a name so I can stop calling him ‘principal male dancer’) compliments Armand and notices he’s out of practice and before Armand knows it the dancer is behind him and touching his hands and correcting his arm position and oh no.

Oh boy... by making Armand have a big crush on the principal male lead dancer I just realised that means Armand had a moment while designing his costume for Hannibal that he chose for to have no shirt. I mean, there's one other male dancer that is also shirtless, but still... either it was his own idea that he was convinced was purely because I made sense that character wouldn't wear a shirt, or it was someone’s suggestion (possibly to mess with him if they knew about the crush) and Armand was just dying inside as he was designing it and making sure the fit was right once it was finished. “Hey Armand, we’re going to paint his body to make him look more tan, do you want to see?” “NoOo I’M sUrE hE looKs fINe!”

I have even more (as you’ll know if you’re in the poto oc discord) but I don’t want to make this post too long... it’s probably already too long

[chrisevansbabymama]

Daddy Hair Care - Chapter 4.2

Here is the second instalment, at long last! Still using the same gif as the previous, as it’s still the same night. The more time I sat on this chapter, the more time I’ve had to tweak it and change it from the original draft, so it’s still slightly longer than usual - all 4,288 words, but I hope you all enjoy. Thank you for being so patient. 

_______

Chapter 4.1

Chapter 4.2 - He’s Just Not That Into You:

“I gotta say,” Chris said, stuffing his hands in his pockets, suddenly very coy.

It’d been a mere five minutes since they’d left the restaurant and were walking in the direction towards her house. They’d delved in and out of a couple of topics, including Mya and Dodger who Chris confessed to be missing, but was trying his best to not be on ‘daddy mode.’ Kayla found that so cute, and could see he had been honest when he’d said he wanted to get out more and put himself out there, it seemed his internal battle was learning to let go of his dependants. Whatever putting himself ‘out there’ meant for him, she supposed she could only be happy for him.

“Mmmh?” Kayla asked when the pause was a second too long.

“I’ve just...I’ve had a pretty good night tonight,”

Kayla pressed her lips together to hide a smile, her heart fluttering at the way he casually dropped the compliment. Here she was thinking that he would have given up anything to be anywhere else. His warm eyes met hers, but with the look he wore she could discern that there was more to it. She wasn’t going to interrogate him and make it awkward, if he wanted to, she was sure he would say it.

And she hadn’t been wrong about there being more to it; it was more of a feeling than Chris could put into words. It was a weird, funny feeling he felt; elation somewhat laced with anxiety. The good kind.

“It was nice to finally get out of my suite and do something that’s not work related, or taking the kids out,” he said, referring to his two kids – Mya and Dodger.

Then his stomach twisted as guilt washed over him for confessing that he enjoyed his time without them.

“It’s okay,” Kayla looked at him reassuringly. She could sense his aura change in the same way that her siblings’ would when they talked about finding space and a life outside of their kids. “To do things without them, you’re not neglecting them. Call it self-care,”

“Yes ma’am,” he nudged her gently with his elbow, relaxing at her encouragement.

Kayla was smiling too now but she looked ahead in the direction they were heading, “Y’say you had a good night as if you are surprised that I’m good company,”

“Not that, I wasn’t surprised,” he quickly corrected, appreciating the humour to lighten up the threatening sombre mood. “I just mean that I didn’t realise how busy the whole team was, that I never really got a chance to know you properly since you joined us,”

“Relax Hollywood, you’re sweating,”

As usual, comedy was her go-to defensive mechanism so that he couldn’t see the effect his words had on her, because she was more than flattered that he actually enjoyed being alone with her. At least that’s what she was going to take from his statement.

“You are right, I mean this whole thing took off so quickly for me, I haven’t even processed it,”

Kayla recalled to the day she got a call from his assistant Tiffany, asking if she was able to assist on a photo shoot the following day. His previous make-up artist had gone on maternity leave and he had been booked on a last minute cover shoot, so they needed someone to groom just for that one day. But a photo shoot turned into a contract for several projects, then she was hired on for the Lobby Hero and possibly Infinity War press; but the later was still TBC due to his conflicting schedule. She prayed that he was going to do a few rounds of press for it, otherwise her work with him was coming to an end in less than a couple of weeks.

Once he starts Lobby Hero, that was going to be it, and then he would start filming the last Avengers instalment not too long after. He had spoken about going to Boston in the small gap before filming. He was very much a family-oriented man, Kayla accepted the fact that once he was in Boston, he would shut the rest of the world out. Especially his Hollywood life; which she was a part of.

So yes, whilst he didn’t overtly say he only enjoyed spending time with her alone; Kayla convinced herself that he was implying just that, because it was probably the first and last time she would ever be alone with him like this.

Chris nodded, “It’s crazy, it’s such a fast-paced industry you never get a chance to slow down. I’m glad we got that tonight. You were pleasant enough,”

His devil may care tone at the last statement earned him a sharp glare and a heavy sigh, enough to make Chris retract.

“London, I’m joking,” he said quickly putting an arm around her shoulder and pulled her into his side.

He was incredibly tactile, this she had learnt very early on since the first time she worked with him; the hugs, the gentle touch on her upper arm when he was trying to squeeze past her, the tap against her leg when he was laughing hysterically. Her favourite touch was when he would gently squeeze or rub her shoulders on a long day of interviews. He would comfort her with a “almost there London,” as if she was the celebrity ready to retire from the repetitive questions.

So this was nothing.

It didn’t feel like nothing though. It felt nice. It felt like she belonged there, flush against him.  

When she didn’t respond he wrapped her in his arms in the biggest teddy bear hug he could muster, gently swaying her.

“Talk to me,” he sing-songed.

“Please say something,” he was starting to worry that he’d upset her. “I’m not used to you not having anything to say back,”

Kayla’s voice came out muffled as she breathed against his chest, “You’re so annoying!”

“There she is,” he finally laughed in relief, drawing back from the hug but still held onto her, this time he slid his hands down her arms until her held her hands, studying her but he failed to suss her out.

Please kiss me, she thought, glancing at his lips.

Chris considered it. She was only a few inches away, he could do it seamlessly if he wanted. But he didn’t know if she would like that. She looked away quickly before he could even suggest to her that he was going to kiss her.

But Kayla had only looked away because she noticed the make-up stain she’d left on his shirt when he’d squeezed her against his chest. Too embarrassed to confront it, despite her boldness towards him, she figured that some things were better left unsaid. If she brought attention to it, she knew he would be put off. He’d always been vocal about being a simple guy, liking his women natural - your girl next door type*. Hence why she’d gone for the ‘no make-up, make-up’ look tonight, to look as natural as she could for him.

Patriarchy 2 – 0 Kayla.

“Your hands are cold,” he said quietly deflecting the tension brewing from the assumed rejection, squeezing her hands gently but firm in an attempt to warm them up.

“Yeah,” she said distractedly, shaking off the thought of the very close encounter. “You were right, it’s cold,”

“Why didn’t you tell me,” he said shrugging his coat off and swung it around her, he held onto the lapel.

“I didn’t want you to say ‘I told you so,’” she pouted childishly. “You don’t have to do that Chris, you’re gonna get sick - that blazer is not gonna keep you warm. And we can’t have you sick and cancelling all your work commitments,”

“Maybe that’s the plan, I deserve some time off. A little flu never hurt anybody,” he shrugged with a wink.

“No seriously, Keith will kill me,”

He titled his head and studied her, before saying, “Why thank you Chris for this coat, you’re such a gentleman,”

She rolled her eyes, “I don’t sound like that,” and then laughed at his attempt at her voice, before finally accepting the coat and sliding her arms into the sleeves, letting out an earnest, “Thank you.”

“And now you can’t say I’m not a nice guy,”

“Wait, what?” Kayla laughed with uncertainty. “I have never said you’re not a nice guy,”

Chris smirked, giving her a side-glance that she couldn’t read, but one thing for sure was it was so sexy.

“I don’t know, sometimes I get a feeling that you hate me,”

“I don’t hate you, I just enjoy knocking you down a pedestal or two. Keeps you grounded,”

He smiled.

“Works like a charm,”

“Besides, if I hated it being on your team, I’d have left within a second, believe me,”

“Well, wouldn’t want that,” he commented, eyeing the coat on her before doing up the buttons that he had disregarded when he had been wearing it. “Want me to get you an Uber home?”

“No, unless I’m boring you?”

“Ha, never that,” he stuffed his hands back in his pockets and eyed the pavement as they paced in unison. “I was thinking that since you’re not going to die of hypothermia now that you have my coat, maybe we should do something spontaneous,”

Kayla eyed him suspiciously, frowning and raising a questioning eyebrow.

Chris looked at her nonchalantly, his eyes glazed with a mischievous shimmer.

“I’m worried,”

He laughed softly, “Nah it’ll be fun, nothing to worry about,”

“You’re making me nervous, how spontaneous? On a scale of 1-10?”

“Uhm...8...”

“Go on,” her tone was still doubtful.

“Let’s go catch a film,”

“I don’t understand,” she was dumbfounded.

“I really don’t wanna end the night,” coyness really suited him. He scratched the back of his neck nervously, his face turning a shade of pink again. “Remember when we were teenagers – well, I don’t know about you, but I used to sneak out at night and I’d always make sure I’d stay out as late as possible and make the most of it. I knew if my mom caught me out, I’d never be allowed again for a while…tonight’s kinda like that. But instead of my mom, work’s going to occupy my time and I might not get a chance to do this again until I finish Lobby Hero. So if you still care to spend the rest of the evening with me; what do you say we go watch a film?”

Kayla felt sad. His face was a shimmering look of hope, like a child asking to go to Disneyland; which was the source of her sadness. Why did going to the theatre excite him so much? Something so normal and regular to her, and took for granted, for Chris normalcy was a luxury, it seemed.

“Uhmm...I thought you said spontaneous,” there she was again with the humour, she cringed immediately, realising this wasn’t the time.

“Uhmm yeah it is, for me anyway....” he shrugged casually and looked ahead.

“Chris?” she wanted to ask him if he was okay. Maybe the magazine event he’d been too had been a negative reinforcement of the cons of his job, as he had mentioned earlier that he barely knew anyone there and had to endure it, in the name of good press.

“Mhhh?”

“Yes,” she said, she deflected. “I mean, yes, let’s go watch a film. I’m a little overdressed though,”

He smiled so brightly that her concern for his wellbeing vanished, “You sure?” she nodded. “Honey, we’ve both been overdressed since that restaurant,”

“Maybe I should go home and change my shoes and get my coat so you can have yours back,”

“Everything you just said defeats the whole ‘spontaneous’ part, I usually have to go to the theatre dressed in a hoodie and baseball cap. I go miles to be incognito, tonight, I’m living on the wild side,” he retrieved his phone from his trousers pocket. “I’m getting an Uber as we speak,”

Kayla considered this: never imagining the first time alone with Chris in a dark room would be in a movie theatre. She had to admit, it would be fun to sit in such a close proximity in the dark. They’d both missed their opportunity to kiss the other just several minutes ago; maybe fate was giving them another chance.

“ See anything you like, London?” Chris shifted from his window seat to the middle, minutes later as they sat in the back of the Uber exec. He held the phone so they could both see the movie listings.

If she was going to be honest, none of the films stood out for her but this wasn’t about her. So she looked on as he scrolled slowly, thinking more about her strategy on dealing with being in the dark lit room with him. What better way to get up close and personal than a film? It was the perfect set up for that missed kiss; she pictured it so vividly: his arm would surreptitiously snake around her shoulder as he pretended to yawn and disregard the film before making a move on her. She had seen this scene many times in films that she was even surprised Chris was going to be this predictable.

Annihilation, Irreplaceable You, Peter Rabbit, she read the listings…Fifty Shades Freed.

“Game Night?” he offered after several debates.

Kayla looked at the poster on his screen and glanced up at Chris, “So much for spontaneity, Chris no offence but if you were to die tonight and I was to read your eulogy about the very last film you saw, you want it to be this?”

“Whoa,” he was genuinely startled. “There’s a lot to unpack there. First of all...actually you are right. I told you I don’t get out much. And second, that’s so deep, why does someone have to die tonight?”

“You thought I was going to get hypothermia,”

“Are you suggesting we watch something a little steamy?” he cocked his eyebrows playfully and gave her a look that she recognised instantly. He was back in form. “Fifty Shades Freed? Is that what you want?”

Kayla shook her head with no witty comeback to rally with him.

“I haven’t seen the other ones,”

“I should hope so, not suitable for kids,”

“Game Night it is, only because you’re annoying me and I’m not gonna give you what you want,”

Chris ignored the double entrendre. Begrudgingly.

Kayla’s imagination has always been very active since her youth. She’d learned to be imaginative as a means to escape from a young age, hence why she has always gravitated towards creative subjects and eventually a career in the arts. When she’d imagined the exciting prospect of being alone in the dark with Chris, what was going to ensure seemed clearly written in the stars. Though a small part of her thought the idea was too far fetched, it became more promising when she realised that they were the only ones in the late showing of Game Night in the theatre.

The ticket purchasing was strategically planned to avoid Chris being spotted by any chance. Judging by how seamless every stage was, she became more optimistic that halfway through the movie he was going to make a move on her, like they did in the movies. She wondered if the sign would come when he either placed his bag of popcorn on the floor or on the seat next to him, yawn and sneakily wrap an arm around her shoulders. Then she imagined he would naturally whisper something in her ear, making her giggle before lifting her chin with his index finger and finally kissing her.

And so it happened:

Half way through the film, he placed his almost empty bag of popcorn on the floor and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Her heart was thudding, leg jiggling nervously, so she crossed them and tried to act normal, as if she didn’t even know what was happening. It was surreal, the adrenalin charged through her that she didn’t even know what to do anymore and feared she wouldn’t give him the kiss of her life.

So Lauren was right. He does like me, she thought, making a mental note to thank her and apologise profusely for dismissing her claims.

“Oh man,” he stifled a yawned and muttered under his breath, becoming increasingly restless.

Everything was going according to plan. And imagination.

A few seconds passed and she didn’t feel an arm on her shoulder, nor did he inch near her. Instead, he inched away, resting his elbow on the other armrest and his chin on his clenched fist. The arm around her shoulder never came. She kept her eyes glued on the screen, watching on in a haze, barely concentrating. She felt sick.

She’d done the calculations, and this wasn’t the outcome she expected.

But then again, Maths was never her strongest subject.

She soon realised he hadn’t been trying to flirt or intend to make a move on her. His eyes were shut and chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. She watched him for a few seconds, thinking it was a sick twisted joke, maybe he would crack and burst out into a laugh, and yell “gotcha,” but he was actually in a deep sleep. He didn’t flinch or budge at the reverberating sounds throughout the rest of the film.

That’s when she knew that dream was over. There only so many disappointments one could take and keep sticking around with hope.

“Chris...Chris...” he heard her faint voice in the distance, ignoring it because he thought it was another one of his dreams where she made a regular appearance. He felt a hand on his shoulder, her voice speaking again. “C’mon, we have to go,”

“Hmmm?” He sat up, opening his eyes as they prickled from the glare from the screen ahead. He looked around and saw her. A delightful sight, even if it was slightly dim. “Kayla?”

“Good morning,” she laughed.

What a sound to wake up to, he thought.

“Morning?” he instantly panicked, his mind automatically thinking of Mya and Dodger.

“I’m joking, the movie’s finished. I didn’t wanna wake you up earlier, you looked really comfortable.”

“How much did I miss?”

“Like the last hour,”

“Fuck,” he sighed, pushing his hair back. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think I’d sleep,”

“It’s okay,”

“I can’t believe I made you come out to enjoy a movie by yourself,” he grimaced as he voiced his concern, cringing at the thought. “I’m really sorry, I owe you. So much for spontaneity huh? You should have left my ass.”

“Chris, relax. It’s fine; it’s been a long day for you. I sleep through a film all the time,” she waved a hand dismissively.

Still, he felt bad. He had wanted to spend the entire night in her company, (not even in a sexual kind of way) and he had jeopardised that.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” he said to quickly, avoiding eye contact. “Still half asleep,”

“Okay Sleeping Beauty, shall we go?”

“Let’s,”

The wait outside had been icy and awkward. On Kayla’s part, it was the affirmation that he wasn’t that into her, that kept playing on her. She didn’t know how to act around him anymore; scared to give too much of herself away, even though she was already in too deep with her feelings. She now had to negotiate a healthy balance between being herself, as always but not allowing him to sway her. Or flirt with him.

On Chris’ part, he felt like he had let her down; it wasn’t about the kiss – he didn’t suspect it, it was the fact that he had kept her out all night only to fall asleep. He wouldn’t even blame her if she was offended. He worried she would never subject herself to something like this again; imagining that she thought the worst of him. Had it been a date, would he have fallen asleep? Even worse, he felt embarrassed, and he couldn’t even figure out why. Maybe at the realisation that maybe his life was as boring as everyone was implying; so he asked himself, who would want to date that?

Chris insisted on ordering them an Uber each, but Kayla politely insisted she could get her own.  Being the chivalrous charmer he was, Chris didn’t back down easily, but Kayla took the initiative and just booked them both a ride. The drama was unnecessary, this was New York; right in the heart of Manhattan where taxis were aplenty.

But they’d both been cunning; using the Uber excuse to buy more time with each other. As if they had both accepted it was their last goodbye, a closure on the feelings they had harboured for each other. And maybe if they stuck it out a little longer, one of them would bite the bullet and make a move?

“I should give you this,” she said sliding off his coat. “Thank you for letting me wear it tonight,”

“Don’t do that,” he waved a hand. “Take it, it’s cold,”

“There’ll be a heater in the car, I’ll be fine Chris,”

He drew close to her again, politely putting it back on and redoing the buttons she had undone to give it back to him, “Keep it on,”

She sighed, giving in quickly, “Okay, I’ll bring it back on Monday,”

“Okay,” he could careless.

“Here goes your ride,” he squeezed her shoulders as the car pulled up in the waiting bay.

“Thank you for tonight, I had a lot of fun. And thank you for the dinner, I owe you,”

“Yes, you do. You owe me that Pad Thai,” he winked playfully before hugging her briefly. “See you on Monday, London,”

He opened the door for her, guiding her in with his hand on the small of her back.

“Bye Chris,”

It wasn’t long before the car was circling Columbus Circle, routing back to home. Above all, albeit the anti-climactic theatre ordeal, she’d had a good night with Chris. Far beyond her expectations, so what was it going to hurt if they were only going to be friends?

It was all replaying like a movie reel; the laughter, the touches, the anecdotes and his scent. The way he set his eyes on. The way he listened when she spoke. His scent on her, she breathed it in – his coat a vivid reminder of him. A vivid reminder of the way he would wrap his muscled arms around her and never wanted him to let go.

She suddenly remembered the huge make-up stain she’d left on his shirt and cringed.

The moment was over.

She felt her phone vibrate in her bag; she had ignored it the entire night, never one to be glued to it when she was out. That was a lie, she used to be glued to it; always one to take pictures for Instagram until she got bored of over sharing and instead shared her work on it, occasionally peppering her feed with food snaps, selfies, with her family or a cheesy snap on holiday.

She wondered if Chris would follow her on Instagram…or if she had the balls to follow him first.

She took her phone out, her friend’s Instagram post notification the source of the vibration. She scrolled down on the notification centre, opting to read Lauren’s copious messages that she’d missed earlier on when Chris had joined her at the sushi place.

9:49pm

Lauren: Sorry babe, won’t be making it tonight. I’ve been regurgitating my guts all evening. Have fun.

Lies, Kayla thought, trusting Chris that she was probably entangled under the sheets somewhere with Seb.

9:50pm

Lauren: Oh yeah, I purposely forgot to ask Keith and Tiff to come along. Ooops.

9:54pm

Lauren: Because I lied, I’m not sick. I decided not to come, and thought I’d leave Tiff and Keith out of it too. I thought you kids needed the evening to yourselves and I didn’t want to play 3rd wheel tonight. I do it all the time, not doing it tonight. You kids have fun.

9:55

Lauren: So I hope your inadvertent date with Chris goes well.

10:35

Lauren: ....you’re welcome.

11:01

Lauren: No reply? I’m guessing you’re “playing hide the zucchini”? Thank me later.

11:01

Lauren: ps. safety first kids. Love ya xxx

She shook her head in disbelief; too tired to figure out whether she should be angry or laugh. It was less funny now that she knew for sure that Chris only had platonic feelings towards her. She now needed to speak to Lauren sometime in person, figure out a way to politely tell her to stop bringing Chris up. She needed the closure.

As if on cue, his name popped up on the banner of her screen; a strange sight and brand new occurrence. They had never directly communicated with each other via phone, even though they had each other’s numbers. It was always Lauren that organised non-work related occasions, and if it was to do with work, she dealt with Keith and Tiffany. Never him.

His very first text message to her said:

Chris: Let me know when you get in. Thank you again for tonight; I owe you big time, especially for falling asleep.

Kayla: Likewise. Honestly, don’t worry about it lol

She wanted to shut him down, be dismissive but subtle and polite. She wasn’t going to do this again.

Closure, closure, closure, she chanted in her head.

Chris: I insist. I’m a man of my word.

And just like that, her resolution to get over him disappeared. How could she?

_

Chapter 5

_______________

Disclaimer: Gif not my own

Tags: @thegirlwithpaperheart  @disaster-rose @youlifetime @mississippifangirl​ @thinemineours @tessathedragon @thottio​ @caninoona @eratotalles @allonszassbutt @thinemineours@dreamingwithmendes @void-imaginations​ @daybreak96​ @l-auteuse​ @cliffordasparagus @bumber-car-s @lvlyab@melaninmarvel @milkymil-k @dyckvandyke @prettymuchboodup  @i-fear-neither-death-nor-pain @the-doctors-fallen-angel @mariswritingforfun

[who-gave-atlas-a-pencil]

boats and birds

A/N: So I couldn’t not write this after watching Episode 45. I just couldn’t shake the idea of Molly joining Twiggy in the rigging and so this happened? Doesn’t really have much to do with the original idea anymore, but that’s beside the point! I hope you enjoy my first attempt at writing critical role fanfic. : D (Oh, also - the title comes from the song “Boats and Birds” by Gregory and the Hawk. It weirdly reminds me a lot of widomauk? Not sure why, but there you have it.)

Summary: Molly enjoys acrobatics but doesn’t excel at them, Caleb’s sense of humour is called into question, and Twiggy has a knack for causing cute moments even when she isn’t directly involved.

Read it on AO3

The sunlight is warm against his skin as Molly hangs upside down from the rigging that goes up to the crow’s nest, drifting in a lazy circle. It’d be an easy enough task to unhook his foot from the rope he has it coiled in and give a quick flip to stick the landing, but there’s something oddly comforting about hanging upside down like this. It reminds him of the circus, and of the Knot Sisters dangling and contorting themselves every night as part of their act. They’d been two of the grumpiest people he’d ever known, prior to meeting Beauregard. He wonders how they’re doing.

“Hey Molly!” Jester’s voice rings out from above him, and he glances up – down? – to look at her. She’s leaning over the edge of the crow’s nest, grinning ear to ear. “Why are you just hanging there? Are you stuck again?”

“Never,” Molly calls back, and kicks himself free. It takes a few attempts and he ends up flailing gracelessly for a moment before he catches himself on a rope and scrambles back up to join Jester. Propping his chin on his hands, he tangles a leg around the posts of the nest and grins at her. “Did you need something, darling?”

“Noooooo, not really,” Jester singsongs in her familiar, slightly childish way. “Twiggy’s been talking to Caleb forever though and playing with Frumpkin and it’s boring up here without people to talk to.” She leans in closer to him. “Actually, though, were you stuck just now? Because you looked kind of stuck and you were flopping a bit – you know, like Nott did that one time when she fell in the water she was walking on because she tripped on a rock?”

Molly smothers his grin and glances around before leaning in conspiratorially. “Can you keep a secret?”

“Yes, of course. I’m like, the best secret-keeper of all time. Well, I’ll probably tell the Traveler, but he’s always here so he’s gonna know anyway.”

“Alright then. Truth is….I really wasn’t stuck.” Molly grins and taps Jester on the nose, then steps back off the nest and catches himself, swinging from the ropes again.

Above him, Jester is looking down with her eyes scrunched up at the corners. “You were too. Just a little.”

“Maybe a little,” Molly concedes. “But I have to have an off-day every now and then, otherwise Nott might get jealous and then where would we be? I mean, look at this.” He lets himself relax, his legs slipping from the coils of rope. He means to fall a bit, to catch himself and swing around gracefully in some dramatic and appropriately glorious echo of Twiggy’s earlier descent. Instead, a wind picks up at the exact moment he lets go, blowing the ropes out of reach so that suddenly he’s in free fall. He curses, scrambling for a hold to avoid taking the full brunt of the sudden stop at the bottom and manages to grab a rope just tightly enough to almost dislocate his shoulder before he loses his grip again and crashes the rest of the way to the deck below.

For a moment, the wind is knocked out of him with such force that it’s all he can do to blink at the sky like an idiot. He doesn’t feel terribly injured, but he can already tell that his back and tailbone both are going to be one enormous bruise for a few days. Jester calls something he can’t make out, and he waits for the static to clear.

It’s then that Beau appears over him, her arms crossed and an eyebrow raised. “Wow. Was this how your audition for the acrobatics act at the circus went too? Think I get why they had you telling fortunes and spreading bullshit now.”

“Fuck you, Beau.”

“Fuck you too, Molly,” Beau says, and pulls him to his feet. “Anything broken?”

Molly blinks the last of the stars out of his eyes and twists gingerly. “Nothing at all.”

“Yeah, I figured. I mean, it’s not like you had pride to injure, right?”

Molly opens his mouth to reply, but is cut off by the sound of applause. He looks up to see Jester  cheering, her voice magnified by the familiar thaumaturgy spell. “That was a really great fall, Molly! I’m really impressed!”

Molly gives a little bow and turns his wince into a smile. “Thank you, thank you. I’ve been practising. I’m glad it’s working in my favour.”

“Keep practising,” Beau advises, then claps Molly on his now-injured shoulder and walks away. He’s still rubbing at it ruefully and wondering how to best get her back for that when Twiggy runs past him, a grime coloured blur chasing after Frumpkin. Molly scans the deck for Caleb, then blinks.

The wizard is sitting cross legged on the deck, a spell book lying open in front of him and Twiggy’s Happy Fun Ball in his lap. Because Molly is an idiot and likes to pretend that he has a chance of breaking through the ten layers of trauma Caleb wears like a second skin to find the person underneath and convince him he’s worth something, he takes a minute to appreciate the view. Caleb’s shirt is unbuttoned at the neck, his sleeves rolled up to where the bandages on his arms stop, and as he ducks his head the sun glints copper off his hair.

He’s bloody beautiful, dirt and all. He’s also beet red, his cheeks stained with a particular shade of cherry that Molly hasn’t seen since Nott alerted them all to his “heart condition.” Before he can think better of the idea, Molly’s already walking closer, his pain forgotten and a grin on his face. “Mister Caleb?”

Caleb’s head shoots up, and though Molly hadn’t been certain such a thing was possible his flush seems to deepen as he clears his throat. “Mister Mollymauk. Do you need something?”

“Not at all. Do you?”

“I…No? Why do you ask?”

“Your face is all red. I was wondering if the heat was getting to you.” Molly plops down to sprawl in front of Caleb and leans forward onto his elbows. “You know, I hear a glass of water is great for that. Mug of ale, maybe.”

“I’m fine, thank you.” Caleb looks away and clears his throat.

“I thought you were Caleb?”

That earns him a vaguely disappointed look. “That was a terrible joke, Mollymauk.”

“It was worth a try.” Molly inches forward a bit, close enough that Caleb has to move the spellbook slightly to keep him from laying on it. “You know, I’m not sure you get to be the judge on jokes anymore, Mister Caleb. Twiggy didn’t even get a chuckle out of you earlier.”

“I am not a happy guy,” Caleb says, with a shrug and the exact same intonation he’d used before.

“Who says you have to be happy to laugh? A joke’s still a joke, and if it’s funny that’s just how it is. Don’t tell me Zemnians don’t believe in jokes.”

“Of course we have jokes.”

Molly raises an eyebrow. “Oh? Tell me one, then. I’m all ears.”

“They are not funny if you are not Zemnian.”

“Nonsense,” Molly says and waves a hand. “The only jokes that aren’t funny are puns in a language you don’t speak. Try me.”

Caleb gives him a long, steady look that Molly returns with a shameless grin. Nearly a minute passes before Caleb finally gives a begrudging, exhausted sigh. “Fine, yes. One joke. But then you let me work on this puzzle ball for a minute, ja? It is very arcane and interesting and I’m not certain if our friend will let me keep it when we part ways.”

Molly crosses his heart and grins. “Scout’s honour.”

“I very much doubt you were a scout, but I will hold you to that. Alright. Don’t say I did not warn you.” Caleb sighs again, his eyes drifting to some point in the distance. “Can a kangaroo jump higher than a house?”

“I don’t know, can it?”

“Ja, of course. A house cannot jump. Ha-ha, very funny, right?” Caleb looks down at Molly and shrugs just barely. “I told you, it isn’t funny unless you are Zemnian.”

He’s right. The joke isn’t all that funny. But there’s something about Caleb’s deadpan delivery, the circumstance, the colouring still fading from Caleb’s cheeks that it all catches Molly in just the right nonsensical combination that he laughs anyway, the reaction pulled from him without his permission. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see the confusion on the wizard’s face, the way his brow furrows and the corner of his lip twitches up slightly, and the sight makes Molly even giddier because he’s not convinced he’s ever seen Caleb smile at anything but a bookshop and the fact that he’s doing so even vaguely now isn’t much, but it damn well is something.

“This is not the reaction I was expecting,” Caleb mutters, so quiet Molly almost misses it.

He dashes the tears of laughter out of the corner of his eye. “That was awful. I loved it. Got any more like that?”

“Ja, probably. I would have to think on it a bit first, but I am sure I could remember some. First, I would really like to work out this puzzle, though-”

“Right, the Happy Fun Ball. We had a deal.” The last bits of laughter fading, Molly straightens up into a sitting position. “I’m nothing if not honest, but I hope you know I’ll be bugging you soon for more terrible jokes.”

For a moment, Caleb looks even more confused than before. Then he nods, just barely. “Ja, alright. I will try to remember some more.”

“Good.” Molly pushes himself to his feet and looks down at Caleb, his hair still copper in the sunlight. “You know, I’m gonna go tell that one to Twiggy and Nott. Maybe they can surprise you with it if one of them tries to cast that spell on you again.”

Caleb glances up, his eyebrows furrowed. “And what would be the purpose of that?”

“Because maybe it’ll actually get you to laugh. I’d like to see that sometime.” Molly grins at the surprised look on Caleb’s face, reveling in it in the brief moment he has before it registers what exactly he’s just said, then reaches out to ruffle his hair as he passes. “Happy studies, Mr. Caleb,” he calls over his shoulder, and wonders if he imagined the way that Caleb’s cheeks flushed red again.