#been singing along to ABBA since before watching it

[rhaelynn]

I have thoughts™️ on the reviews for this movie!!

sometimes a family is a mother and a daughter and a gay dad and two straight dads and two vodka aunts

The golden standard fr >>>

the ‘lay all your love on me’ scene invented bisexual culture

*cue le scandalous gasp* are you saying that when Agnetha sang ‘I wasn’t jealous before we met / Now every woman I see is a potential threat’ she didn’t ENABLE the bisexual culture to be invented???

LITTLE BOYS WHO PLAY WITH FIRE (idiots who think this is a bad movie) GET THEIR FINGERS BURNT (by the cold hard fact that this is The Greatest Movie Ever)

I CONCUR THIS WITH EVERY FIBER OF MY BEING >>>> Christine Baranski you absolute icon 🤌🏻 teach me how to kick my legs that high when I’m in my fifties please

the dancing queen scene invented feminism!

BECAUSE NOTHING SCREAMS JOY LIKE WOMEN RUNNING AROUND THE ISLAND LIKE THEY OWN IT (and they actually do in this case?)

in case you can’t tell, this movie is the love of my life 😩💗🏝️🇬🇷☀️💍👰🏼‍♀️

Mamma Mia! (2008) + letterboxd reviews

[ghulehthezombiequeen]

little sunshine. - Angeleyes

cardinal copia x sister of sin!reader part 3.

masterlist. / little sunshine masterlist.

tag list: @gothicwonderlust, @siouxbauhaus

a/n: i finally added a masterlist so yippee that's cool also if u want to be added to the taglist lmk and i'll gladly add u :D

warnings/things to note: female reader, potentially autistic Copia (it just comes naturally i'm sorry), secret relationships, possibly suggestive undertones?? idk bro i just write

enjoy <3

word count: 1,517 words.

A few weeks had passed since your first date with Copia. Not much has happened since then, which was fine with you. However, the fact that you were no longer watching the little ones made you a bit lonely in the ministry library. There were a few perks to working in the library, though. A couple groups of Siblings would normally come in every so often to gossip about any and everything, which you didn't mind overhearing. And they were glad to share with you! You were so likeable by everyone, so kind and generous, so witty and hilarious.

When they finally had to leave for their classes, you decided to pop a random record into the player. What type of records did the ghouls like to collect? You decided to investigate that later as you settled on an ABBA collector's edition vinyl. You studied the sleeve before pulling out the disk, noticing that it'd been played multiple times before.

You were organizing a shelf of books near the corner where your desk was, humming along to the song Angeleyes. You were so focused on your task that you didn't hear the door open, nor the footsteps approaching you.

"Ah, A-Angeleyes, huh? I... Personally, I love that song."

You knew that stutter from anywhere.

You turned around and smiled widely as your eyes were greeted by Copia. Instantly your mood boosted by at least 50 percent. "Oh! Hi, Cardi! What brings you here?" You chirped happily, now trying to multitask talking to him and sorting the books.

"Oh, uh... S-Sister, I just wanted to say that I- I....... I don't know. I just wanted to say hello..." he chuckled nervously at himself. "I'm not very good at this."

Oh, he was trying to flirt with you! Copia was never the best at it before, but now after the night in the gardens with you, every time he got a glance at you made his heart skip a beat. "I... erm... I want you to know that I missed you, a-and, um... I am so happy right now."

Was he... shy? That's adorable.

"Aw, you're so sweet, Cardi! You have a big heart, y'know?" you tittered at his shyness, watching his body language. Wait... was he hiding something behind his back? Odd.

"Whatcha hiding over there?" You asked in a sing-song voice, pretending to peek at what he was hiding behind his back.

Copia's face turned pink as you brought yourself closer to him. "I... w-well, uh... erm... oh, what the hell. Here, for you..." He revealed a white rose, holding it out for you to take. "It's my favorite flower... a-and I wanted to give it to my beautiful girl," he said bashfully, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand.

Your heart started to melt right then and there. How did Copia know your love language was receiving gifts? You felt even more special when he said that white roses were his favorite, and he was giving one to you! You gasped, taking the rose stem delicately in your fingers. "Oh, you didn't! You're so kind!"

Why did this gift feel different? Other guys have given you the same exact thing sometimes, but this felt more important than those gifts. Were you genuinely catching feelings for this silly rat man? This caused you to blush.

Copia chuckled a bit. "Oh, I did... because you deserve it. You're the sweetest girl I know, and you deserve a gift."

He looked into your eyes and smiled. "Ah, it's just a rose from the gardens, it's not the most valuable thing. But it's a part of me that I want to give you and keep forever... j-just like you." He swallowed after he spoke, mentally cursing himself for stuttering towards the end. Satanas below, why did it have to be so difficult to talk to you?!

You hummed in contentment, placing a gentle hand to his cheek. "If you get any sweeter, I might have to go to a dentist and get checked for cavities!" you teased, moving your hand to press a light kiss on his cheek.

"Ohhh, Sorella..." he mumbled something in Italian that you couldn't quite hear well, but you saw him fiddling with his thumbs. You made him flustered. Cute!

"Well, now I have to get you something, so it's fair!" you pouted as you stared at the white rose in your hand, admiring its beauty.

"E-Eh?! N-No, no, no! Per favore, n-no need to get me anything! Just seeing the smile on your face is all I need." he said quickly, feeling terrible at the thought of you cutting your precious time out to get him something in exchange for a rose.

You felt a little bad but decided to let it go for the time being. "Alright, then..."

"I-If anything, I'm not good enough for you, Sister... the rose should have been good enough." he mumbled quietly, thinking that he didn't deserve her; he'll always try his best for sure, but you... you were perfection.

That put a cheeky smile on your face, and you let out a small giggle. "Oh, I'm gonna put this on my desk, I'll be right back." You turned on your heel and walked to your desk, moving a stack of papers so that your vase with the single white rose sparkled in the sunlight.

Copia watched you, resisting the urge to reach out and pull you back to him, to hold you in his arms. He felt his heart beating so hard against his chest he thought it may explode. He wanted to lean in and kiss your perfect, pouty lips just like that night in the garden.

He was so caught up in his thoughts that he spoke out loud accidentally, "...Why are you so perfect?"

"Mm, I dunno. I just am." you shrugged, a playful smirk on your face. It was cute that he didn't even notice he'd said those words out loud until your reply, which made him bury his face in his hands and coaxing a chuckle out of you.

He let out a flustered grumble. "Y-You know I think you're more than perfect. I- I can't find the right word for it yet, but... y-you're like an infernal goddess. I can't help but admire you. Satanas, you're truly a gift from below, I swear to it."

You tilted your head, so it rested on your own shoulder, smirking at him and pulling him into an embrace. You also took this opportunity to stare into those beautiful, mismatched eyes of his. "You fell madly in love with me already, huh Cardi?" you giggled as he started to snake his hands around your waist, pulling you in just a bit closer.

"Ehh... maybe just a little." he chuckled, lifting his hand to show you the little space in between his thumb and index finger.

You raised an eyebrow at that.

He widened the space the more you stared. "...Maybe just a little more than a little?" he chuckled sheepishly.

You kept your eyebrow raised.

"Ah! Okay, fine! Maybe a lot. Maybe- Maybe you should- uh... something. I... I forgot."

You both laughed at this, pulling each other closer.

"We're supposed to be keeping us a secret, y'know..." you reminded, smiling at him. He grinned innocently, pulling away slowly and looking around to make sure no one was watching the two of you.

"Okay, okay, you caught me. I love you tons, contento? But you are right, this isn't the best idea to do this in public. But... if it were under the circumstances of it being 'just us'... would I get a hug? M-Maybe even a kiss?"

"Hmm..." You pretended to think, just to spite him. Of course, you already knew the answer. "Under the circumstances of it being just us... whatever would we do?" "Oh, I know! What about... your room, 8pm tonight. I'll bring a bag and stay over?" you asked in a mischievous tone, your smirk still evident on your face.

Copia's face flushed a bright crimson at what you were implying. Did you want to-- with him?!?! Was he even that lucky?! Copia's mouth hung open for a second before sputtering a response. "Wha- I- you- me- we- uhh... erm... I- yes! Okay! Okie dokie... good, good...."

You laughed at his adorable reaction, pulling away from him to go back to work. "Y'know, the Siblings were talking about you earlier. They said you keep pet rats. Some couldn't believe it. But it got me thinking, and I want to see for myself if the rumor is true!"

"I- wha? Oh! Yes, o-of course!" he cleared his throat (and his thoughts), nodding. "W-Well, um... I guess I'll see you tonight then, Sister." He tried playing it cool, but everyone could tell how excited and nervous he was to see you tonight. You! Tonight! In his room! His mind was racing a mile a second as he spun around and scurried away to his room, resisting the urge to kiss you goodbye.

As for the rumor, well. That was true.

~~~ previous chapter. | next chapter.

[ankmankpank]

A summer with 4town what looks like the song This Is The Life by Amy Macdonald

Dancing with Aaron T. to the song I Think We’re Alone Now by Tiffany, alone in the dim lighted, small living room of the house the boys bought in the woods. You two have to be quiet too, everyone else is asleep by now, but how could you resist laughing at him, at you two when he’s just so.. Aaron T.?!

Going to a summer night walk with Tae Young around the city, but you two end up going party to party, Kesha blasting from the speakers in the last one you two attend. Because you two were too drunk to search for another party, but the song Die Young and swinging your head around hand in hand with him, labeled as dancing to the song will be forever in you two’s summer memories.

Going to a sunset walk with Jesse and Tae, a big stereo bought along, sometimes Jesse carrying it then sometimes Tae. Setting it down somewhere in the grass, then messily dancing to the song Stereo Love by Edward Maya. As if those two didn’t even spend years dancing. It’s surprising, sweet even that you didn’t even think Jesse could be like this based on the first impression, where he was just so mean. But this means he loves you.

Only you and Robaire in the house the boys bought for any reason now, a fancy pool on the even fancier terrace. Robaire is just sitting on one of the white sunchairs between the pool and the minibar, sunglasses on the top of his head since the sun is about to set. He’s just watching you. He loves to watch you, no matter the situation. You’re swimming around the pool, jumping in and out of it, songs like Lush Life by Zara Larsson playing. Robs gotta admit, he kind of loves white girls songs himself too. As long as you like it too. As long as you’re happy, he is. And if you’d tell this moment and situation to the fuckboy that Robaire was months ago, before he met you, there would be a lot of laughs.

Singing Memories by David Guetta and Kid Cudi, no, more like shouting it in the middle of their ridiculously huge living room of T.’s penthouse with Tae, T. and Robaire. Z. is sitting on the couch, watching the four of you. He would join, even, but the sun is already down and this day with you pretty much tired him down. Jesse is on the phone on the balcony, leaning against the railings, legs crossed and more watching you and the boys thru the glass door and the glass walls than paying attention to the call. You ended up sharing T.’s big ass bed with the three boys.

Big party the boys threw, and a loose and sloppy Jesse is what you got on your neck. Not literally, too much people. Wink wink nudge nudge. He wants to sing, shit he always does, but he’s pouty about it now. You giggled thru the night with him, but the top of it was when he dragged you up on top of a table to karaoke SOS by ABBA with you. Normally, you’d think it would be kinda awkward, but it wasn’t even close. It was the lightest and funniest moment you ever had with him, and that was the most free he felt in a while. The next day, hungover and hot from the summer’s heat, grumpy Jesse would never admit that.

You and the boys sat at the fire outside what Z. made, they always made him do the fire. Sat. Now the others are all in bed, it’s just you and Z. He’s poking the fire, and you’re in the position you started the night with, straight in front of him. No words exchanged, just comfortable silence. Then you get up and sit next to him, you’re sweet like that, always been. Bold. That’s what he really liked in you, but would never admit. Of course, he looked at you questioningly, as if asking what’s up and it didn’t take long to have a nice chat starting. And from that, it also didn’t take long to slowly kiss him, for the first time, though you both wanted to do it for a long time now. Is It a Crime by Sade quietly from the speaker that T. put outside, that’s what you two kissed to, finally kissed to. His heart never beat faster, but it was already rushing when you just sat next to him. Oh how much he likes you.

[nokingsonlyfooles]

OK OK, Finish the feed and plug the thing

Been distracted by current events and guilty for lack of productivity, but you're not gonna look at it if I don't keep bothering you!

You clicked this yet?

YOU WILL! Oh-ho, yes. The water shall inevitably wear away the stone! Or you'll slip up while trying to scroll on your phone. I'll take either! Noooo, don't just close it out! It has found families and cool magic-punk shit and politics.... WAIT! COME BACK! I'M SORRY I MENTIONED THE POLITICS!

Known Readers: 3 (hi!), 1st Goalpost: 10

Known supporters: Still not asking but I'm gonna come back with another six pack next week. I'm too impatient to wait indefinitely for my vision and illustrating ability to stabilize.

And you get a sample, under the cut! Let's see, what am I feeling proud of today...?

[How about something from Meet the Roll-A-Dance, my narrative-form cast intro. You can meet most of the main characters this way! And see how they play Steampunk DDR!]

“All right,” Hyacinth said, stepping onto the dance pad. “I’m not going to be good at it, but I know how to do it, so I’m going first. You all have to play,” she informed them, pointing a finger. “Except maybe Mordecai.”

Mordecai snorted and folded his arms across his chest. “What, because I’m old?”

“Because you don’t breathe very well and I’m afraid it might kill you. But yes, also, you are old.”

“You’re not exactly young, Hyacinth.”

“No, but I have regular meat lungs that work better than yours.” 

“And whose fault is that?” he cried.

She tipped up her nose. “Furthermore, I am more than willing to humiliate myself to have a good time — which is not required, but helps.”

There were a few snickers from the group of them, Sanaam and the kids especially.

“Okay!” she said. “Don’t stand on the frame. Stand on the buttons, the left and right buttons. When two arrows come up at once, you have to jump and hit both. You need to hit the arrows when they come up to the line. They follow the music. This looks like a newer machine, so they’ll probably light up and disappear. Songs are here, difficulty is here.” She left it on Normal, her pride would not allow her to dial it back to Easy. She had played these things before, damn it. “I think that’s all, but it’s been a while since I’ve played. If I remember anything else, I’ll say it.”

She selected “Nina, Pretty Ballerina.” A simple tune of five notes played as a metal arm bearing a thick scroll of paper slid into the gaping space at eye-level and spooled from bottom to top. A thin gold wire across the top of the page flickered to light.

Nina, Pretty Ballerina — ABBA was printed at the top of the scroll. The paper began to roll. One of the boxes lit up with a ping. Sing Along! it advised.

“You are forbidden from singing along,” Hyacinth said quickly. She was trying to remember the damn thing after maybe thirty years. She did not require vocal accompaniment, especially a goofy-ass song like “Nina, Pretty Ballerina.”

There were rectangular punches on the scroll, lyrics, and arrows. When the punches reached the top, the band organ cranked up and cheerfully began to play. There were drums, whistles, a xylophone and the organ itself available, as well as various sound effects, such as the boo and a cheer. The arrows were magicked and they glowed. When they reached the gold line, they flashed and vanished.

Oh, my damn dress, Hyacinth thought, as she landed two steps and flubbed a third. It wasn’t as bad as some of the numbers David had put her in, but it was ankle length and it interfered when she picked up her feet. She hitched up the skirt in both hands, then rolled it into her left and held it against one hip.

Boo! the machine admonished her, regardless, blinking the sign.

“You hear it?” she said breathlessly, grinning.

Sanaam was grinning back at her, he nodded. Milo was rocking back and forth with a vague smile; he liked the music. Lucy was dancing in place with a big smile; she liked it too. Maggie and Calliope were watching the scroll, Erik was watching her feet. The General had her arms folded and was examining the ceiling.

Mordecai said, “It’s deliberately annoying.” He winced as she missed another step. “And flat.”

“I told you!” she cried. The Boo! sign was blinking regularly now, warning her against further errors. Aw, come on, she thought. Let me finish! I’ve almost got it!

Boo! The sign lit up solid. The roll spooled rapidly to the top and ejected.

“Crap!”

She got a smattering of applause. Mordecai and the General abstained. Lucy was particularly enthused. “Play it again!” she demanded.

Hyacinth bowed. She shook her head and threw down the skirt of her dress. “I’ve had my turn. Someone else try.”

“I wanna!” Lucy cried, lifting a hand.

“Well, you might be a little short for it, but okay…” Hyacinth read off the songs for her.

“‘Butterfly’!” said Lucy. “I want that one!”

Hyacinth punched it in. “B… 6…”

Lucy had absorbed that you needed to push the buttons and look at the arrows. Everything else had gone over her head. She also did not seem to notice that the machine was chastising her. She smiled the whole time. Calliope also smiled the whole time. Everyone else winced. The machine gave her twenty seconds of missing every single step before it ejected the roll.

“Aw, it’s so fast,” she complained. “Can I go again?”

“Everyone gets one song,” Hyacinth said, helping her down. “To start. You can have another later if you like.”

“Okay…”

Milo had a go next. He wasn’t familiar with most of the songs, but he did like that first one. He selected “Intermezzo No. 1.” It was by the same group. Also, it had a number in it. The scroll slid into place. Sing Along! did not light up for this particular piece.

He stood on the left and right arrows and considered the scroll.

That’s a little stiff. It needs oil.

So, what am I looking at here?

The punches were for the band organ. Vertical axis for timing, horizontal for which note and which instrument. Simple enough. But some of the punches weren’t playing.

Is that supposed to happen? Did I screw up?

“Milo, you’re supposed to hit the arrows,” Hyacinth said.

Milo frowned. This music was unpleasant.

Oh, wait, I see. The punches it plays are contingent upon the arrows. If the arrows are entered incorrectly, then this set of punches engages. Correct entry plays a completely different set.

“Was he not here when I explained about the arrows?” Hyacinth muttered aside.

It’s meant to be unpleasant. The arrows are…

The scroll spooled and ejected.

Excuse me, I was looking at that!

Milo selected “Intermezzo No. 1” again. The scroll slid into place and began to roll.

Okay. I get it now. This is all code. The punches are code for the machine and the arrows are code for me. We’re supposed to compliment each other. It’s playing the music so I have an auditory cue for when to enter my part.

“Mordecai, do you think he’s hypnotized or something?” Hyacinth said.

If I enter my code properly, it will reward me with nice music. Let’s see, that means jump, and that means turn in a circle. Ah! And the arrows with trails on them are sustained. This is easy! I don’t have nearly as much to do as the machine!

The scroll spooled and ejected.

Milo selected “Intermezzo No. 1” again.

“Auntie Hyacinth, he’s had three plays,” Lucy said.

“He’s not playing,” Hyacinth replied.

Milo started to play. For the first little bit, he kept glancing down at his feet, but that threw off his timing so he quit it. The buttons were pretty darn big, anyway. It was supposed to be easy for him. It was a game. He landed his first jump partway on one of the spaces between the buttons and frowned at himself. He was disappointing the machine. He pulled back his shoulders and tried to be a little more machine-like himself.

Up. Down. Left. Right. Eighth note. Quarter note. Oh! The different beats are different colours! This is so simple. It’s telling me everything I need to know.

Except where the buttons were, but if he metered his motions and paid attention, they were no trouble either.

“Holy shit, he’s good at it,” Hyacinth said softly. This wasn’t a thing you were meant to be good at. You were meant to be sort of mediocre at it and just frustrated enough to keep feeding it coins.

The cheer engaged.

Hey! All right! Best possible code version!

What a nice machine. With all the information and the feedback, it was like it was holding your hand the whole time. He nailed the rest of the song, despite the code’s occasional playful attempts to get him tangled in his own feet.

When the roll ejected, it applauded him.

So did his friends.

He smiled.

That was really fun! I like doing code! Why am I tired?

He had just been pushing buttons the whole time. They weren’t even that far apart.

It’s rather fast, Milo.

He subtly shook his head. Ann, I work on an assembly line. Don’t talk to me about fast.

Calliope took his hand to help him down and she wrapped both arms around his waist. “That was really cute,” she told him. She planted a light kiss on his cheek.

He gazed longingly at the machine. Aw, I want to go again.

But, maybe breathe first. Maybe breathe for a while, actually.

Maggie wanted to hear “Butterfly” as it was meant to be played – not in punishment mode. She commandeered the pad next and selected the song. She was good enough to keep it from ejecting immediately, but she still lit up the Boo! sign at regular intervals. It did not help that Milo kept leaning in, pointing at the scroll, and saying NO LOOK NO LOOK, like she didn’t get she was supposed to be doing the steps on the scroll.

“I see it, Milo!” she snapped finally, and that got him to back off. She got through the song, but the machine was not overly impressed with her. It did not applaud. Yeah, well, screw you too. She offered it a sign of her own.

“Magnificent!” the General cried.

“What?” said Maggie. “What do you want me to do? Apologize to it?”

“Apologize to Lucy and Calliope!”

Maggie sighed. She dropped a sarcastic curtsy, with her fingers plucking empty air above her trousers. “I am so sorry Miss Otis and Miss Otis. I will warn you the next time I intend to be rude so that you may avert your sensitive eyes.”

“S’all right,” Calliope said.

“Huh?” Lucy said.

“That thing is a bad influence,” the General muttered.

Grinning and nodding, Hyacinth replied, “It’s meant to be!”

[You can, of course, read the whole thing at the site and meet everyone!]

[daydreamgoddess14]

Sing Your Own Kind of Song

Tedbecca Prompt Party 🥳

Ted Lasso / Rebecca Welton

No. 75: Soulmate AU - When you get a song stuck in your head, it’s because your soulmate is singing it. Who's singing what at Nelson Road?

~~~~~~~

Ted woke up to Aretha Franklin's RESPECT stuck in his head. He put up with it all day, even had Beard raising an eyebrow when he sang it during the morning meeting, which elicited a giggle from Rebecca.

"Alright, Ted?" She asked,

"Just heard it on the radio this morning, that's all boss." He smiled reassuringly.

"Have you heard about this soulmate rubbish they've confirmed on the news?"

"That you're hearing whatever your soulmate is singin'? Sure did, Gigi Hadid. That's some interesting barbecue sauce right there."

"Isn't it just?" Rebecca mused.

"You believe it, boss?"

"Not quite sure what I believe yet, Ted. Guess I'll see how it all pans out."

"I hear ya, if it's good, then you can say you knew all along, and if it's a steaming pile of doggy poop then you don't lose face either."

"You know me so well, Ted."

"Time to get downstairs for training. I'll see you later?"

"Thanks, Ted. Have a good morning." Down on the pitch a short time later, Aretha was replaced by ABBA. When he cooked dinner that night, it was Diana Ross and the Supremes. When he brushed his teeth before bed, it was One Direction. He tried to counteract it by ignoring the song in his head and sticking with his personal favourite, Kenny Rogers, in the hope that this madness would all blow over.

He lasted a month. During that time, there were new romances popping up everywhere. Roy only needed Taylor Swift stuck in his head for a morning to realise Keeley had been singing in the car on the way to work. Likewise, he'd been to see the latest Top Gun movie the previous night with Jamie, Isaac, and Moe, and had woken up singing 'Highway to the Danger Zone'. Keeley thought she might have some detective work to do, but Taylor Swift had done her a solid when she overheard Roy humming Wildest Dreams. They'd been inseparable ever since. There were breakups, too - Beard and Jane had not been on the same page at all, and while Beard wanted to keep trying, Jane did not. Ted was stumped, though. Whoever his mystery singer was, they were an enigma. Songs ranged from power ballads to current pop, and from obscure TV theme tunes he did not recognise - what the heck was Bullseye?! - to showtunes. He was at a loss.

Weeks went by, and Rebecca grew impatient. Her secret soulmate was predictable. It had only taken her a couple of weeks to work out that it was Ted. He listened to a lot of the same artists on repeat, Kenny Rogers, Bruce Springsteen, Dolly Parton and more country music than she even knew existed. Dolly had given her the inspiration to accelerate her plan. She'd spent the time since weighing up whether she believed it or not. She told no one and instead set out on a little game. Each morning, she'd pick a random song or theme tune to sing - trying to get more and more random and wild each day. In return, Ted had been keeping a log - looking for any kind of pattern or consistency. He found nothing. Whoever his soulmate was, they had the most varied tastes. One morning, he wakes with an unfamiliar tune in his head. He can't place it, it's repetitive and sounds like it should be known to him, but he's none the wiser. When Nate whips out his phone to show Ted a clip of the football from the previous night's TV, the tune accompanies the clip.

"Nate, what's that?"

"It's a clip of Sam's goal from a different angle?"

"No, the tune?"

"Match of the Day? You've been here 3 years, and you don't know the tune to Match of the Day?"

"I watch Sky Sports." Ted shrugged. "Anyway, Match of the Day is popular?"

"It's been a staple of British TV for years." Ted mulled over what he'd learned and consulted his notebook where he'd listed weeks of songs. Adele, Whitney, Shania, showtune after showtune… whoever they were, they liked a strong voice. Then he spotted the little outliers… Geri, Mel C, Posh… they'd snuck the Spice Girls in there individually. This, combined with the Match of the Day theme, had him barrelling out of the office and up the stairs two at a time. He burst through Rebecca's open door to see her at her laptop writing an email and softly singing the Match of the Day theme.

"It's you," he said without saying hello.

"Took you long enough." She smiled.

FIN

[the-rewatch-rewind]

Just one look and I can hear a bell ring. One more look and I forget everything.

Script below the break

Hello and welcome back to The Rewatch Rewind! My name is Jane, and this is the podcast where I count down my top 40 most rewatched movies. Today I will be talking about number 26 on my list: Universal Pictures, Littlestar Productions, Playtone, and Relativity Media’s 2008 musical Mamma Mia!, directed by Phyllida Lloyd, written by Catherine Johnson adapted from the stage musical book also by Catherine Johnson, and starring Meryl Streep, Amanda Seyfried, Pierce Brosnan, Stellan Skarsgård, and Colin Firth.

Shortly before getting married, Sophie (Amanda Seyfried), who was raised by single mom Donna (Meryl Streep), discovers that she has three possible fathers: Sam (Pierce Brosnan), Bill (Stellan Skarsgård), and Harry (Colin Firth). She decides to invite them all to her wedding, assuming that she’ll know her father on sight and her life will feel complete. Dysfunction, hilarity, and ABBA songs ensue.

Okay so I’m going to apply what my sister Rosemary said about Newsies to Mamma Mia!: this movie is objectively not good. The plot doesn’t make a whole lot of sense, most of the songs don’t really help tell the story in a particularly meaningful way, and the singing is not great. This is the kind of movie musical I was criticizing in the Chicago episode for casting stars who aren’t really singers and just letting them sing badly. Not that everyone in Mamma Mia! is a terrible singer; they’re just…not all great. I can’t say that every singer in Chicago is better than every singer in Mamma Mia! because then Christine Baranski would have to be better than herself. Anyway, while I recognize that this is not a good movie, it does make me feel good. Watching it gives me a rush of dopamine, and I think I was practically addicted to it for a while. Part of that is because it came out at exactly the right time for me.

I wouldn’t say that I was a particularly big ABBA fan prior to seeing this movie, but I did enjoy some of their songs. The main thing I remember about my senior prom – which, incidentally, was in May of 2008 – is that for most of the evening I didn’t recognize any of the music. I’m sure they were popular songs of the day, since a lot of my peers were singing along, but as discussed in previous episodes, I spent most of high school listening to Julie Andrews, so I was very out of touch. But toward the end of the evening, when most kids had left for afterparties or whatever, they started playing older songs for the chaperones, and I remember being so thrilled when Dancing Queen came on – finally, I song I knew!

A few months later, when I saw Mamma Mia! in theaters, even though I didn’t recognize a lot of the songs, I still felt a similar thrill at the uplifting tone of the music. And I really needed it. In addition to the whole “I just graduated from high school and I have no clue what I’m doing with my life and the world is dark and scary” thoughts that were dominating my consciousness, that specific weekend was particularly stressful. Rosemary and I were at this youth church retreat focused on service and social justice, which overall was interesting, except only one other youth from our church came with us, and he wasn’t even there the whole time, and our youth leader had a lot of other responsibilities and couldn’t spend a lot of time with us either, so I was mostly just hanging out with my sister and the assistant youth leader, trying to figure out what we were supposed to be doing. It was fine, but it felt a little bit like nobody wanted to hang out with us. But then at one point we had an afternoon of free time between retreat activities, and the leader who had barely been around decided we should go see a movie, but then she had trouble finding the theater. So we walked in a few minutes after Mamma Mia! had started. My sister had seen it before, but I had not. I was kind of frustrated with the whole dysfunctional youth group situation going into it, but it only took a few minutes of the movie to make me feel like I would never be frustrated again.

I saw it at least twice in theaters, and later got it on DVD and could not stop rewatching it. I managed to see it six times in 2008 and five times in 2009. And then, just like with Frozen a few years later, I hit the 11 views in a little over a year threshold and needed to take a break. Also like Frozen, there were a lot of people bashing it online, but at least with Mamma Mia! I didn’t care quite as much. With Frozen I deeply related to the characters and felt personally attacked by the criticism. Mamma Mia! hate irritated me, but if other people couldn’t handle its happiness and fun, that was their loss. Anyway, after 2009 I kept listening to the soundtrack, but I didn’t rewatch Mamma Mia! again until 2016, when I saw it once. Then I watched it twice in 2018, and once in each year after that. My love for this movie was revitalized in 2018 because that was when I saw the stage show for the first time, and then a few months later the sequel/prequel Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again came out. It’s weird because the story had already made very little sense, and then that movie directly contradicted so many things from the first one that the whole thing became even more utterly incomprehensible, and yet, somehow, that doesn’t really bother me too much. The plot is not the point; I’m here for the mood.

Watching this movie really feels like going on vacation. It was mostly filmed on location on a gorgeous Greek island, and the bright sunshine and sparkling sea mixed with upbeat ABBA jams really melt all worldly cares away. Which is a little odd because the characters go through a lot of stressful drama. But to the audience, the stakes never feel very high. Donna is stressed after seeing her three former lovers, but mostly because she doesn’t want Sophie to find out about them, when we know that Sophie was the one who invited them. Sophie is stressed because she doesn’t immediately recognize her father, and maybe some audience members do want to know which one it is, but ultimately it doesn’t matter, and she just needs to learn that.

It may seem a little strange that an aromantic asexual like me would love a movie so full of relentlessly alloromantic and allosexual characters, but I really enjoy that, even though most of them do predictably end up paired off romantically by the end, there’s a lot of focus on trios of friends. Sophie has her two bridesmaids, and Donna has her two best friends – arguably the best characters in the movie, played by the always fabulous Christine Baranski and Julie Walters. And then there are the three fathers, who don’t know each other at the beginning but develop a nice bromance by the end, when they agree to share the honor of being Sophie’s dad. These three friendship trios, along with the mother-daughter relationship between Donna and Sophie, seem stronger and more important than most of the romantic pairs, and as I’ve said before, that’s really what I want out of most movies. I’m never suggesting that romance should be eliminated entirely; I’m merely sick of romantic partnerships constantly being portrayed as the number one most important relationship in everyone’s lives. So I enjoy that Mamma Mia! focuses so much on non-romantic relationships, even in the midst of its romances.

I also appreciate the ways that the story challenges the traditional family structure of one man married to one woman, raising their biological children together. Not that there’s anything wrong with that; obviously, that works for a lot of people, and that’s great for them. But that’s not going to work for everyone, and there isn’t anything wrong with that either, but there’s a major stigma against wanting, or ending up with, any other kind of family structure, which goes hand-in-hand with the stigma against women having sex outside of marriage. When Donna got pregnant with Sophie, her mother disowned her – at least according to the first movie, when her mother is described as a deceased pious Catholic; not according to Here We Go Again, when her mother is a living eccentric entertainer played by Cher, who conveniently had a passionate love affair with a man named Fernando, but that’s not important. Sophie doesn’t seem to have been neglected or love starved in any way as a result of being raised by a single mom, and yet she is obsessed with finding her father simply so he can give her away at her wedding. And like, I personally have a problem with a tradition wherein one man essentially transfers ownership of a woman to a different man, but I can kind of see how, if the bride has a particularly close relationship with her father, this could be a meaningful moment. But in Sophie’s case, it makes no sense. What meaning is there in walking down the aisle with a man you met for the first time the day before? Once she thinks about it for two seconds, Sophie realizes that it makes way more sense for Donna – the person who raised her – to give her away, but prior to that she has been so steeped in amatonormativity that she not only thinks she needs to get married at 20, but also resents her mom for not settling down with a partner before she was born. Not because she really needed her dad to be in the picture, but because she thinks she was supposed to need that. When she finally realizes that she’s fine with not knowing who her biological father is, Sophie also realizes that she doesn’t want to get married yet. On the one hand, since she’s already at the altar at this point, and she’s planning on traveling with her fiancé (played by Dominic Cooper), it kind of seems like they could have gotten married and then done that, fighting the idea that married couples have to be boring and settled. But on the other hand, the main reason she wanted to rush into marriage was so she could meet her father and have him give her away at her wedding, which is a really bad reason to get married, so from that perspective it makes sense to postpone it. Now, would I like this movie better if Donna also didn’t get married? Absolutely, especially because she marries the rudest and most entitled of the possible dads. But if that’s what makes her happy, I’m fine with it.

It's worth mentioning that this is my 15th episode and it’s the first time I’m talking about a movie that was directed solely by a woman – Frozen was co-directed by a man and a woman – and that it was also written by a woman. I know I said that this isn’t a good movie, but Hollywood is so saturated with mediocre films made by mediocre men that it’s rather refreshing to see a big-budget blockbuster made by women that, if it’s a bit of a mess, at least is a fun mess. For once, the female characters are complex and relatively well developed, and the men mainly serve as eye candy for the straight women in the audience. Also, given the observations I made in past episodes about how much younger Cary Grant’s leading ladies were compared to him later in his career, it’s nice to see a movie with great roles for actresses over 40. Meryl Streep was pushing 60 when this movie came out, which made her about 15-20 years older than the character she was playing, but I mean, it’s Meryl Streep – she could play any character of any age convincingly. Dancing Queen is a song I used to associate with youth – the lyrics literally say “young and sweet, only 17” – but its context in this film turns it into a song about feeling young at heart regardless of numerical age, and empowering women to step away from their responsibilities and dance down to the water and jump in, for some reason. Like much of the movie, that scene doesn’t make a ton of sense, but I absolutely love it. I mean, yes, the fighting amatonormativity aspects are great and all, but let’s be honest, that has very little to do with why I love this movie. The real reason I love Mamma Mia! is because it falls into probably my favorite category of movie, which I like to call Everybody Making This Was Having Way Too Much Fun.

And nothing more perfectly demonstrates that than the end credits. I know that saying that my favorite part of the movie is the end credits sounds like I’m implying that it’s because I’m glad the movie is over, but seriously, the end credits of Mamma Mia! are EVERYTHING. They start with Meryl Streep, Christine Baranski, and Julie Walters in amazingly ridiculous 1970s costumes singing and dancing to a reprise of Dancing Queen, which is delightful in and of itself. Then after the song ends, Meryl asks the audience, “Do you want another one?” a few times, and then they start performing Waterloo. When they get to the chorus, Pierce Brosnan, Stellan Skarsgård, and Colin Firth join them wearing similar costumes, as do Amanda Seyfried and Dominic Cooper a bit later, and the whole experience truly defies description in the best possible way. If you haven’t seen this movie, please, I am begging you, look up the end credits on YouTube, I promise you will not be disappointed. Colin Firth’s commitment alone is worth watching. In fact, Colin Firth’s performance is consistently one of my favorite parts of the movie. The way the clearly deliberate Harry tries to convince people that he’s spontaneous is hilarious and perfectly done. While I would prefer to see LGBTQ+ characters played by LGBTQ+ actors, I feel like Colin Firth does a relatively good job of playing gay in Mamma Mia! without being too disrespectful about it. And then he rocks his ridiculous outfit at the end and puts his entire being into that dance as if he has been waiting his whole life for an opportunity to do something like this. When asked in an interview, “If heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates?”, Colin Firth famously answered, “I personally thought you were very good in Mamma Mia!” Obviously I can’t speak for God, but I personally think that “very good” is an understatement.

I could talk about how Pierce Brosnan was miscast, but I think that’s been discussed enough, so all I’ll say is he tried. His character’s bad communication skills irritate me far more than the actor’s bad singing. Seriously, this entire situation could have been avoided if back in the day Sam had told Donna that he was going home to break up with his fiancée and then coming back to her, but no, he for some reason thought she would be waiting for him when all she knew was that he was engaged to someone else. And then in present day, he just lets her think he’s still married, and stands there silently while she sings the entirety of The Winner Takes It All, bringing the plot, such as it was, to a grinding halt, when it would have taken him like two seconds to say, “I’m divorced and I’m still in love with you.” He doesn’t tell her he's divorced until after he proposes! It’s like, dude, you can’t keep waiting until the most dramatic moment possible to tell people things! No wonder your first marriage fell apart! Even though I know that the story is nonsense, I can’t help overanalyzing it anyway, because as much as I don’t feel like I should, I really do absolutely love everything about this movie.

And the feeling that I should be ashamed of something I’m not actually ashamed of was particularly pertinent around the time this movie came out, because graduates of my high school are kind of expected to head straight to a prestigious 4-year university, and I was just going to a community college. I knew it was the right decision for me at the time, but other people made me feel like I should feel bad about it. I have this distinct memory, probably from late 2008 or early 2009, of standing in the aisle of a crowded bus heading to community college and listening to Meryl Streep singing the Mamma Mia! title song and just feeling so happy and at peace. There was nowhere I would have rather been at that moment than on that bus listening to that song. I felt okay with following my own path at my own pace, and I felt okay with loving a movie other people said was garbage. Sometimes I still struggle to maintain that mindset, but rewatching Mamma Mia! is one of the things that helps remind me.

Thank you for listening to me discuss another of my most rewatched movies, especially if you’re someone who does not enjoy Mamma Mia! I do sincerely hope that each and every person listening has at least one movie that they know isn’t good but still love anyway. It’s a very different feeling from loving a movie that is almost universally praised by critics and audiences alike, although they’re both great feelings. In fact, the movie I’ll be talking about next week falls into the latter category, so stay tuned for my thoughts on a much more highly acclaimed film, which is the shortest of five that I watched 19 times in the 20 years I was tracking. As always, I will leave you with a quote from that next movie: “Forgive me for not leaping for joy. Bad back, you know.”

[eric-the-bmo]

The Neighborhood Watch S2 ep7: Towing the Soil

Note: my notes for this session were Abysmal, so I apologize in advance! We're on a bit of a short hiatus, so it'll be a bit before the next one!

[Summary: The Main Cast head to the woods to take care of the giant plant.] @gr3y-heron

Previously, Emmet said whatever the plant is seems to be alien; none of the AI's system recognize it. More tests will need to be run, and he tells John to come back later- he'll send a text.

John heads to Markus's house to tell them about the plant monster. the spray paint Markus bought a few episodes ago has been put to use; their place looks like a pride flag. John informs Markus about the clearing, and says he'll go get the others to help formulate a plan.

Song, not really having anywhere to go since her house is still ruined, heads back over to Louis' house. As she approaches there's the faint sound of ABBA music, and Phil, one of the neighbors, asks Song if Louis's okay. She says she'll check in on him, and when Phil asks what happened to her house/if she's okay, she tells him it was a gas canister mishap. They bid farewell and she enters the house. ABBA music can be faintly heard from the basement, along with the singing of a drunken Southern gentleman. Song settles down on the couch and starts reading the book Fatima gave her- absolutely not checking in on him.

John knocks on the door; Song waits for a moment before rolling her eyes, getting up from the couch and answering it. John's surprised to see her there, but explains to her the plant in the woods. She says they should go get Louis from the basement ("Chiquitita" by ABBA starts playing). The two of them knock on the door, but get no response. Song rolls her eyes at John- who briefly wonders if they're friends again because of this interaction- and the two of them make their way down.

Louis is sitting against one of the wine shelves; he's been silently crying, shown by eyeliner running down his face. He's on his third bottle, and fumbles to turn the CD player off when he sees the duo. They tell him what's up with the plant in the woods, and he asks if Markus knows about it too- His voice wavers when he comments of "Markus's friend Bob probably knows too."

John's brow furrows as he tries to figure out why Markus and Bob would be friends, since don't they hate each other? Louis states they had coffee earlier- so they must be friends, right?

Song heads upstairs to make some coffee for Louis, enchanting it to help sober him up. Louis heads up the stairs with John behind him, using the stair railing to support himself, and accepts the drink when he gets up there. He sobers up immediately, but the hangover hits him like a truck ["I can hear the plants outside making noise."]. Song gets him some ice and a towel for his headache, and helps wipe the eyeliner off his face. Louis looks at her with an expression only a recently-sobered man can have (AN: that's verbatim from my notes. What does that mean)

Louis says his house is always open to her, and said she didn't think she would come back since he thought she hated him. He says he knows how to deal with vampires, leading to a sarcasting comment from Song ["Yeah, sure." "Ah, I'm in a great condition to be bullied as you can tell."] Louis changes the subject to the broader subject of monsters, once again going on a rant about Greenville. [“This is the weirdest town I've lived in, and I've been in New Orleans for ten years.”]

The trio tries to come up with plans to kill the plant (hatchet? fire?), until John realizes suddenly that he's very warm, and Song and Louis ask if he's okay- he looks feverish, with an odd tint to his skin. John realizes the thorn from earlier is still stuck in his face, and rushes over to the washroom. He tries to dig it out of his skin, and eventually manages to get it out.

Louis tries to call Markus. Song's noticed John's been in there for a while, and goes to knock on the door to check on him. He's washing the blood off his face and says he'll be just a moment; when he opens the door he apologizes, and explains the situation.

["You got a thorn stuck in your face?"] John, still believing Song hates him, interprets this comment negatively until: ["Are you okay?"] She helps him tend to the wound.

Markus is at the park- they've snuck off by themself. They step over the overgrown flowers until they see a figure walking into the park, and hide. It's the town's florist Ms Green, dressed in gardening gear with a belt of weed killer canisters and an axe in her hands. Markus pops up and asks where she's going, and she unsuccessfully tries to hide her axe, saying she was hired to take care of the plant infestation. She introduces herself to them, since these two have never met before, and Markus tells her to go home and that they can take care of it; as far as they know, she's a normal woman. Ms Green admires their confidence and suggests they wear some protective gear as Markus summons a bug to paralyze her- they don't want her getting hurt trying to fight the monster. They grab some cans of weedkiller from her and run off, spraying the flowers as they trek deeper into the forest.

Back at the house- Song's changed into a new outfit for this, with holsters for weapons, and pulls out her duffle bag armory. John says he can grab an axe from his garage, and Louis has weed repellent in his garage leftover from the landscapers he hired for his lawn two weeks ago. Louis kind of notices his outfit is crumpled and changes into a cooler one, with fencing shirt and leather gloves. He turns red when Song telepathically tells him he looks good, and offers to drive. John heads off to grab the axe. He runs into Phil on the way home, who asks what's going on, and also casually mentions he saw that small person with the hoodie head off somewhere. John connects the dots that Markus went to the park alone, thanking Phil and jogging the rest of the way home.

At the house, Shelby is still at the kitchen table working on the Lego set. John takes the axe out of the garage, setting it by the door, and quickly takes one of the Lego set bags from the table. He bolts out of the house, grabbing his weapon on the way out, and hears Shelby's delayed reaction to the stolen bag as he hops into the back of Louis' car and tells him to drive.

Meanwhile, Markus has found the clearing John had told them about (there's an odor in the air here so bad it's like a fog), and they observe the People slightly swaying as they stand around the plant; their skin has a green tinge, and it's all veiny like roots are growing underneath them. Markus knows they can be saved, since they'd dealt with one of them last season, but is unaware where any of the people got stung. There's a rustling behind them; Ms Green is back, relatively unharmed but shocked at what she's seeing. Markus then panicks almost, and runs out to the plant monster- yelling how they won't be chased out from another home, they release a swarm of locusts at it. The plant screams and Markus looks back at a terrified Ms Green and tells her to go the fuck home. She gives a scared nod and runs away, dropping her axe on the way out. Meanwhile, the ride to the park, to Louis at least, is awkward. John interprets the silence as serious, and tells them that Markus went to the park by themself. He hands Song the bag of Legos and asks her to take a look at them later.

The Main Cast makes it to the park; John sees a path of dead plants leading into the trees and rushes in. The cast runs into a scared Ms Green on the way out, and Louis asks if she's seen Markus- she says there was a whole group of people and there's monsters in that forest, plants and bug people! She says we seem prepared and rushes away. We head down the path, and eventually hear the plant.

The Main Cast runs over to the sound of the plant screaming; We all see Markus with their hood down, attacking the plant monster with a swarm of locusts. Louis yells about this [“Of course it was too good to be true, god DAMMIT” ]. Markus shouts that the plant people can still be saved- the seeds need to be removed. Louis says hopefully his plan will kill the seeds and sprays weedkiller and the crowd, aiming to make a path so John and Song can closer to the plant. Steam rises from the People as they're sprayed with the chemicals.

John bolts over to the plant and swings his axe, cutting off one of the roots; it writhes until it goes limp, a gross smell in the air. Song uses magic to try to find the core of the plant, and discovers its main source of power are the roots, all curled and warped underground. She tries to cut the root off from the rest of the plant- it screams as a pillar of fire rises out from its mouth, petals catching fire as it wilts and peels back.

The plant people try to defend their plant; Some head over to Louis, and he feels something wrap his leg and pull him to the ground. He looks at what grabbed him and sees it's actually someone's fingers, elongated into vines that are crawling upwards. Two plant people rush towards Markus, and two of them rush over to defend their plant; one of the people trying to restrain John is Clara. Others go to Song as well.

Markus sees this and swears loudly, and redirects their locusts away from the plant and towards the People; the locusts branch off into swarms, going to find where the People have been infected to try to remove the seeds inside. They scream as the bugs do this, and when the seeds get removed they collapse, the plant-like parts of them withering away. John drops his axe to catch Clara so she doesn't get hurt, gently setting her down to the ground.

Intricate roots and branches writhe out from the core or the plant as it tries to rebuild itself in a hurry. John picks up his axe and rushes over to hit it, but a mass of roots flare out and grab the axe, and he can't get it out. Louis dumps the rest of the weedkiller onto the roots, and Song sets off a rot spell within it. It works wonderfully.

The plant frantically tries to recreate itself as it rots away, but crumbles into ash and earth- soft soil is all that remains. From behind the Main Cast, further down the path, there's a harmony of tiny screams as rest of plants connected to the bulb start to die. Plant parts shrivel and disconnect from the People; their skin starts to look a bit better.

The locusts all burrow back into Markus. Louis turns to them and asks why they went off by themself, and they said they thought they had been left behind again. Louis says he won't ever leave them behind- not like last time. The two hug, and Louis comforts Markus as they cry.

Markus pulls away, revealing their bug holes (Louis is grossed out for a moment), and they explain that they had made a wish for everyone to forget about their bugs. John quietly asks how long they've been like this, and they say they've been like this as long as they can remember. Markus then explains the plan they made with Bob, and how if Bob focuses on the vampire, then that means he won't focus on the Main Cast. Louis compliments this plan and Markus responds that they're good at misdirection; they've had years of practice, they say, with a smile that pretty much goes “it's the trauma.”

Somehow there's a mention of the raffle and a proposal that it was potentially rigged, as none of the Main Cast remembers ever actually entering; John had assumed Shelby was the one who entered it, and Song assumed her father was the one who did it. Song uses telepathy to figure out what Louis meant when he told Markus he wasn't "going to leave like last time": When on a trip to Romania, Louis met Markus, who was trying to leave some kind of bad scenario; he had helped them leave to America with enough money to get on their feet. It was the first and only selfless thing Louis did.

An alarm goes off on Louis' phone- the HOA meeting is starting. The Main Cast rushes over to Lestat's home.

Notes:

Louis's player actually did provide vocals for Louis's drunk singing and it was wonderful

I'd like to state that John canonically falls in love (in a platonic sense) super easily so I'm very normal about the fact Song is being nice to him

JOHN WITH AN AXE JOHN WITH AN AXE /pos

All of us started yelling when the DM revealed Markus had decided to head to the woods alone, oh my god

What's with my characters and getting attacked/almost possessed by plants? First Theodore, now John... I'm sensing a theme, can we make it happen a third time? /lh /hj

oh my god markus lore? :eyes:

I'm still gunning for ClaraJohn to happen- I don't know how it'll work since I made John to not be into romance, but I'll find a way to make it work. I just want him to kiss someone somehow

We've got a running theory that Greenville is akin to some kinda SCP containment place /hj

One more episode till the Season Two finale!! aaa!!!

[marcovolta]

bleedingwings​:

As Marco reacts to her words, Sariel moves to sit in one of the stools, leaning her elbow against her counter and her cheek against her palm and watches the journey of his expressions as he fully takes in the meaning behind the few slips of information that she had allowed herself to give. Without meaning to, she finds herself endeared at the genuine distress on his face at the news, eyes growing soft and an endeared grin spreading through her lips as she keeps her gaze firmly on the man before her. His every expression is enchanting, and she cannot help but want to see how many more he can make under her careful teasing. As his cheek grow before he exhales, she has to hold back her desire to reach out and poke his cheek playfully. Sariel restrains herself, and it is as if cold water had been upended over her head as she realizes her actions. Freezing in place for a long moment, she blinks rapidly and lowers her arm, straightening up and clasping her hands on her lap to prevent any further and odd itches from being born.  She replaces the expression that had formed on her face without permission by a lopsided grin.

“Wouldn’t know, Wendy’s is my go to,” she informs him, attempting to go back to the teasing to stop feeling so off-kilter. It is true too, since she thinks it’s highly amusing to find the Wendy’s the Asphodel not-druid visits and see the constant stream of people that bother her. From across the street and well out of the blast zone. She does blink in surprise at the combination of ingredients, for she has seen most of them in apothecaries and she can guess the result. Not exactly coffee but — . “You will have to brew me a cup, because now I can’t go another day without trying this mix. You came up with the recipe? Because if so that is highly impressive and demonstrates that you have a deft understanding of botany.”

It is surprising, to be honest, to depth of knowledge that would take to make such concoction and she can’t deny that this tidbit makes everything altogether more interesting. With that in mind, she keeps an eye on Marco as he demonstrates how to eat the risotto and nods more to herself than anything as she follows along. Fork dipping into the risotto, she brings it to her lips and takes a bite, stopping on her tracks as the flavor hits her tongue and she is suddenly transported to a time without worries. The brightness in Uriel’s soul after yet another of their victories, the first time she had drawn a laugh and a smile from Roth’s lips, endless hours of watching Hayliel try new outfits only to be dragged into an unexpected ABBA sing a long, telling stories of mischief and chaos with Atarnial as they sat next to a bonfire, holding Zagreus for the first time —  so small and yet so full of life, another proof that falling is not the curse the blessed make it to be — , watching Nicolas laugh without bitterness, Echion’s face lite up in joy, hushed conversations with Dumah in which for a moment they forget their loyalties. Countless memories overpower her as she takes bite after bite unwilling to stop despite the burst of emotion so strong that she cannot get a hold of it before it raises to her eyes and fills them with tears that fall warmly down her cheeks. 

“It’s good,” she says quietly in between bites, voice choked by the good memories, bittersweet as some might be. Letting the fork rest on the plate, she raises a hand to rub away some of the tears. “Really good.”

-

Wendy’s that fiendish ginger was always up to no good. Marco didn’t have a vengeful bone in his body but every month he wrote their head office a strongly worded letter about the detrimental impact they were having to the people of Rome - and they kept sending him free frosty coupons as a result. The true war for the city had already begun. “Please stop-” he smiled, “I don’t think I can hear another word about that place.” Marco wouldn’t tell her what to do, but he would be sending her home with enough leftovers and homemade snacks so she’d hopefully steer clear of the place for the rest of the week. A gift, from the Dahlia family to Michael’s. Also she was really, really pretty. 

“I can’t take all the credit for it,” Marco admitted, “Volta witches have been working with ingredients for a very, very long time.” The grimoire was one thing, but they had a whole section of the Dahlia library dedicated to tomes written by the witches that had come before him. Uses for lemon zest, orange, fermentation practices and culinary techniques abound. “I’m not very good at... Flashy magic... but I’ve never really needed to be. My mother wasn’t either but she was still the greatest witch I’ve ever met. She used to make this risotto for me when I was feeling down.” It was his heart’s ambition to be even a fraction of as good as she had been, nothing he did was perfect but that didn’t stop him from getting back into the kitchen everyday and trying again. “And I definitely wouldn’t call myself a botanist, but I guess I have kind of a greenthumb - the journals and, well, google helps a lot.” Modernity had made itself a great convenience for witches in many respects. 

All too often Marco got ahead of himself, he got carried away with his cooking and while the Dahlia witches were more acclimated to his recipe styles... It was easy to forget that wasn’t the case for everyone. Waves of emotions washed over the seraphim’s face and Marco realized that he’d just inadvertently brought Michael’s sister to tears upon their first meeting. That was bad... Yeah, that was probably really bad - he wanted to ask her if she could maybe not tell Vivianne or Michael about this but he really didn’t want to be rude. Marco would just not mention this seraphim to them at all and hope that the topic just never came up again. 

“Right-” Marco winced, “sorry,” this was not a good look. “I should have told you, my recipes can be really potent: this one is meant to prepare people for afternoon training so they’re loaded with stamina and... Positive feelings, nostalgic memories to be exact.” Dahlia witches went all out when what they were fighting for was at the forefront of their mind, “You don’t have to finish it, I’m sorry I’ll- I can make you something else, do you like quiche?” Marco’s voice went up an octave again before he cleared his throat. He wondered what sort of life a person was leading if a few warm memories were enough to bring tears to her eyes, that might have been the saddest part about all this. 

[iliveiloveiwrite]

I Drove All Night // S.H.

Request: hii can i request a steve harrington x reader with prompt entry ” i miss you. i miss you so much it hurts. ” ? thanks! - @kylasgambit

a/n: I loved this request so much that I immediately wrote it out after my last fic. I hope you like this! The reader is in college whereas Steve is in Hawkins at the video store, I thought it fit better with your request - I hope you don't mind. 

warnings: reader is in college, Steve is mopey and missing them, lots of fluff, lots of cute feelings and happiness, some blasphemy.

word count: 1.1k

Title: Roy Orbison - I Drove All Night

“What do you mean you aren’t coming home for Thanksgiving?” Steve all but yells down the phone.

“I mean exactly that,” You answer, the connection poor. “I have too much to do. Three essays due all around the same time as well as studying for my exams. I want to do well, Steve. You know how much this means to me.”

“I know,” He breathes, “I was looking forward to seeing you, that’s all.”

“I was too, babe.”

“You’re coming home for Christmas though, right?” Steve asks, completely aware of how needy he sounds.

His mood brightens at the sound of your laughter coming through the phone. “Yes,” You confirm, “I’ll be back home for Christmas.”

A breath of relief rushes through at your words. “Alright,” Steve concedes. “I have to go, I’m closing today. Talk to you tomorrow – I love you.”

“I love you too,” You answer easily before hanging up, leaving Steve to wallow in his disappointment.

The disappointment hangs over him for the majority of his shift. His mind running through the conversation. Steve knew how dedicated you were to your work; wanting to get the best grades possible, and to maintain them.

He understood that. Your dedication to your education was one of the things he loves most about you, but… he missed you.

He really, really missed you.

It had been three months since he had last seen you in person. Three months since he had heard your laugh, seen your smile, felt you pressed against him in the middle of the night.

Dammit, he just missed you.

Steve continues to mope for the rest of his shift. Not even watching Robin flail and do her best to flirt with Vickie, the clarinet player from band, could improve his mood.

“Has he been like this all day?” Dustin asks five minutes after entering the video rental store.

“Pretty much,” Robin confirms, reaching for her drink.

Dustin frowns, knowing full well what Steve could be like when in one of his moods. He sidles up beside Steve, nudging him with his elbow. “What’s up, buttercup?”

Steve sighs. “(Y/N) rang. They aren’t coming home for Thanksgiving.”

“Ah,” Dustin murmurs, reaching up to pat Steve on the shoulder. “I’m sorry, man. I know how much you were looking forward to seeing them.”

Steve shrugs. “It’s fine. It’s whatever.”

Dustin remains silent, letting Steve get a hold of his emotions. Dustin continues to remain silent as Steve bursts, “I just… I miss (Y/N).”

“Then why are you still here?” Dustin asks, confused.

“What?”

“Go to (Y/N). They can’t come to you, so you go to them.”

“I can’t just go, Dustin. I have a job.”

“I’ll cover for you,” Robin interrupts, joining in with the idea and blossoming in the hope of getting rid of mopey Steve. “Go, Steve.”

He doesn’t hesitate. Steve rushes from the store, patting down his pockets for his car keys. He rids himself of his work waistcoat, throwing it in the back of his car before setting off.

Steve makes two stops before hitting the road for the long drive down to your college dorm. The first to his house where he packs a bag in the hopes that you won’t kick him out. The second to a gas station; filling his car, grabbing snacks and some flowers.

The radio is his only company on the long drive south to your college. Steve switches between stations, singing along to whatever he knows. Abba, Elvis Presley and Roy Orbison all the way to heavier songs by Kiss and AC/DC.

As Steve pulls onto your college campus, the clock above his radio tells him it is just after three in the morning. Pulling up outside of your building, Steve idles in the car, briefly second guessing all of his decisions over the course of the night.

Before he can talk himself out of it, Steve exits his car – flowers in one hand as he flattens his hair with the other. Peering up at what he’s certain is your window, Steve isn’t surprised to see a light on. You were known to pull all-nighters to ensure your work was complete and up to your standard.

He’s at your door before he knows it. You’re lucky enough to have the room to yourself after your prospective roommate dropped out before move-in day and the college never assigned you another.

One knock.

Two knocks.

Three.

The shock is plain on your face when you find Steve waiting on the other side of your door with a bunch of wilting flowers. Your heart leaps into your throat at the sight of him; dishevelled, obviously tired, but just as in love with you as you are with him. Before you can utter a word, Steve interrupts.

“I know I should have called but I was dying to get to you.”

“Steve…”

“Let me finish,” He pleads. “I miss you. I miss you so much it hurts.” The words are plain but the emotion behind them is staggering. “I know your workload is crazy; essay after essay, exam after exam, but I couldn’t go one more night without you.”

A moment of silence passes before Steve says, “I’ve finished.”

At those words, you pull Steve into a crushing hug. The cellophane wrapping of the flowers is crushed between your bodies, but neither of you could care as Steve’s arm wraps around your waist so tightly you worry for a minute that it could snap right off. Your arms wind around Steve’s neck, pulling you up to his height.

“I am so happy to see you,” You breathe, tears springing to your eyes at the unexpected rush of joy that runs through your veins at the sight of Steve before you.

“You are?”

“I am,” You whisper, inhaling the musky scent of Steve’s cologne and instantly feeling at ease and at home. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“Oh, thank God,” Steve breathes, pressing his face to your hair and breathing in the familiar scent of your shampoo. “I thought you wouldn’t want to see me.”

“No!” You cry, “I always want to see you. It broke my heart to tell you I wasn’t coming home for Thanksgiving.”

“It broke mine a little too,” He confesses. “I was moping at work. Dustin told me to get my shit together so here I am.”

You snort at the mention of Dustin. “Here you are,” You murmur, “And what shall we do now that you are here?”

“Two things,” Steve purrs, smiling down at you. “One, I think you should lead me inside your room. And two, I think I should kiss you senseless.”

“I like the sound of those, Harrington. Shall we?”

All feels right with the universe once again as you lead Steve into your room. Steve can finally breathe easy, he’s driven all night and it’s led him to you.

******

Stranger Things taglist: @magicalxdaydream​ (I'm not sure if you wanna be tagged in all my fics), @neptunes-curse​ @echovqmps 

[harpsthings]

[I was thinking about Stevie Nicks again (love her so much I named myself after her) and because of this I am forcing my music taste onto Steve Harrington. And I am also forcing my musical Steve headcanons onto all of you!]

Steve has loved Fleetwood Mac since the days his mother still stayed home while his dad left on business trips. She would glide through the kitchen humming “Rhiannon” as she cooked scialatielli all'amalfitana or alici di cetara, the fragrances wafting through the house. He would be by her side, grabbing ingredients for her and singing along, their faces creased in matching grins.

One of the last real gifts Steve received from his mom was a Rumors record when the album first came out. They played it over and over until they knew every word, dancing together in the living room and belting out the lyrics. It was one of the only memories that kept him together when the house felt more like a tomb than a home.

Even after his mother had begun chasing his father around the country, Steve still hummed “Say You Love Me” while he was cooking or played Rumors when it was too dark to sleep. The habit only intensified after he found out about things that go bump in the night.

No one really knew about it and he didn’t bother to correct people when they assumed his favorite band was ABBA or Journey. It wasn’t a secret so much as knowledge only Steve held. He only realized after they had defeated Vecna how dangerous that could have been.

Still, the not-secret persisted. Only, he picked up another habit while he was watching Eddie and Max in the hospital. When everyone else was gone and it was just Steve and whichever unconscious friend he had decided to stay with, he would sing to them. 

For Max, it was usually “Rhiannon” or “Songbird”, but Eddie just got whatever just got whatever song came to mind (though “Say You Love Me” came up more times than was strictly necessary). 

No one had told Steve that Eddie had been waking up in fits and starts on the day he sat down and started to sing “Crystal”.

“I turned around and the water was closing all around like a glove Like the love that had finally, finally found me Then I knew in the crystalline knowledge of-”

“Didn’t know you could sing.”

Steve jolted in his seat and turned to see hazy brown eyes staring straight at him, a crooked grin on Eddie’s face. 

“Eddie! You’re awake!” Steve shoved off of his seat. “I should- I should go get a nurse.”

A feeble hand dismissed his words. “Don’t need to. I’ve been in and out all day. They know.”

That made Steve raise an eyebrow. “And no one bothered to tell me?”

Eddie did his best attempt at a shrug. Steve sighed and collapsed back into the uncomfortable hospital seat. He rubbed a hand over his faced tiredly, looking over at the man who had so quickly become part of the select few he gave a damn about.

Eddie looked like shit, skin pallid and dark splotches under his eyes. His hair was such a greasy mess on the pillow behind him that Steve was fighting the urge to do a deep clean. 

But his eyes were warm and a soft smile was playing at his lips.

“Fleetwood Mac?” Eddie asked, hands twisting into his blanket like he couldn’t stand to stay still, even this injured.

Steve sighed again, tapping his fingers idly on Eddie’s bed. “They’re my mom’s favorite band, she used to sing their songs all the time when she was still at home. Guess the trait got passed on.”

Eddie hummed, nodding his head slightly, before he tapped his index finger on the back of Steve’s hand.  “Did the pretty voice get passed on, too?”

“I-” Steve blushed, averting his eyes but not moving his hand away. “It’s mediocre at, like, best.”

Eddie poked his hand harder.

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Eddie rasped. “I’m a musician, and a good one, too, if I do say so myself-”

“You did save the world with your guitar playing,” Steve admitted.

“I did!” Eddie crowed, delighted, before taking Steve’s hand in his completely and continuing. “So trust me when I say I know my stuff. You’ve got a beautiful voice, Stevie.”

“Stevie?”

Eddie chuffed. “Yeah, get it? Steve Harrington. Stevie Nicks. It fits!”

Steve made the unfortunate decision to look back at Eddie. The other man’s eyes were so soft and earnest and his smile may have been tired but it was vibrant all the same. 

Steve blushed harder, covering his eyes with his free hand.

“What, has no one ever told you?” Eddie sounded almost offended. 

“I haven’t really made it a habit to sing in front of other people, so no,” Steve grumbled, sliding his hand down his face. Once again, a mistake.

Eddie looked delighted. “So I got an exclusive Harrington show? Just me?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve rolled his eyes. “And it’s one night only.”

“Then I absolutely must make the most of it!” Eddie said before he seemed to do his best rendition of Dustin’s puppy dog face. “Will you sing again? For me?”

Damn whoever told Munson that Steve was a sucker for puppy dog faces. Damn them to hell.

“Fine, fine!” Steve grumbled, throwing up his free arm in contrition. “What song do you want, doofus?”

Eddie’s nose crinkled when he grinned. Steve didn’t know why he took note of that, but he did.

“I love a good ‘Landslide’, but you wanna know a secret, Stevie?” Eddie did his best attempt at leaning in. 

Worried for Eddie’s injuries, Steve did all the leaning in for him. He was going to ignore how their close proximity made his heart leap. He could deal with whatever that was later.

Eddie stage-whispered, “My favorite Fleetwood Mac song is ‘You Make Loving Fun’.”

Oh. 

Steve’s heart leapt again. 

Trying to keep himself together, he flicked Eddie’s crinkly nose and sat back, scoffing. “Of course it is. You’re like a toasted marshmallow. All burnt and shit on the outside, but on the inside you’re just soft gelatin-y goo.”

Eddie pressed a hand against his heart. “Moi? The incarnation of the Devil himself? Are you calling the evil kid-eating Satanist an ooey gooey marshmallow?”

“No, I’m calling Eddie Munson an ooey gooey marshmallow, you absolute marshmallow. Now shut up or no songs for you.”

Eddie immediately shut up. He even mimed locking his lips up and tossing away the key, which admittedly made Steve snort.

It took a couple of starts and stops, but eventually Steve was able to start singing. He had never sung in front of another person besides his mother before, especially not on purpose. It felt weirdly intimate, Eddie’s gaze like the autumn sun on his skin.

“Sweet wonderful you You make me so happy with the things you do Oh, can it be so This feeling follows me wherever I go

I never did believe in miracles But I’ve a feeling it’s time to try I never did believe in the ways of magic But I’m beginning to wonder why”

Eventually Eddie’s grip on his hand slackened and Steve watched as he was slowly lulled to sleep, a tiny smile still on his face. For a good few minutes after Steve had finished the song, he sat in wonder. Singing to him had felt like pouring his heart out. It had felt like it meant something.

Watching Eddie’s sleep-soft face, Steve started to sing once more.

And as it turned out, it wasn’t a one night show. Eddie would ask him for another song the next time he was awake, and the next and the next, pulling out the puppy dog eyes, and Steve would always give in. Even after Eddie was discharged, whenever they were alone he would ask Steve to sing. Like he enjoyed it. Like he wanted to hear it.

It felt like maybe, just maybe, Eddie was starting to get him to believe in miracles again.

The next year, when all their scars were beginning to really heal, Eddie presented Steve with Fleetwood Mac’s Tango in the Night record.

Who could blame Steve for carefully setting the record aside and jumping into Eddie’s arms to kiss him? Who could blame Eddie for kissing right back? Who could blame them for finally believing in miracles?

[mountswhore]

SO IVE GOT TWO REQUESTS FOR JORGI CAUSE YOU WANTED THEM:

the first one be to help our mourning for jorgi lack of blond hair (this idea isnt really good as i just thought of it...) but what if one with his girlfriend not being happy when she notices the lack of blond in his hair so she convinces him to get it done again and he said only if she does it - soooo a fic on reader dying jorgi's hair blond again and jorgi just being happy that her fingers are in his hair or something

that idea was so bad and probably made zero sense XD

𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨 𝐢𝐭 — jorginho

summary: jorgi's hair had faded since he dyed it after the euros, and you missed it.

notes: requests (for mason mount and christian pulisic) are CLOSED.

You had gotten home from work at six, after receiving a text from your boyfriend, Jorgi, telling you he'd be over this evening. It was long overdue, as you hadn't seen the man in over a week and missed him dearly. He'd been so busy with training that he could just about squeeze in a late-night facetime, which you were more than grateful for.

Resting the supermarket bags onto the island, you began to unpack the small amount of food you'd bought for dinner, leaving it in a neat pile on the side to use later. Part of you wanted to just order food, eat it, and then go to bed, but you knew Jorgi would be coming over, so you decided to make a small meal for the two of you.

You hadn't gotten the chance to watch the highlights of the Chelsea game, all you knew was that they won and Jorgi had gotten both his penalty kicks in. Maybe that's why he was so eager to come over tonight? You laughed to yourself, jogging upstairs to put something more comfortable on.

Jorgi had arrived an hour later, parking his car beside yours and going to open the door. He could see you in the reflection of your sliding doors, cooking dinner. His heart leaped from his chest, missing you felt normal to him now, and now it was over. All the hours of texting when the pair of you should be sleeping, all the facetime calls, yearning for just some contact with the other. And now he finally had it, he didn't think he'd be able to control himself.

"Hey, meu amor," he called out, hoping to see you run over to him and engulf him, but you seemed pretty occupied. With a frown, Jorgi trailed into the kitchen, only to see your back to him as you searched your fridge. He could see you had Airpods in, which is why you couldn't hear him.

You'd turned round, clutching your phone in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other, singing along to an ABBA song. And that's when you spotted the man standing by the kitchen door, a wide grin on his face as he looked at you. You didn't recognise him at first, as you were covering your face after being scared. It didn't sink in that it was Jorgi until you remembered his text.

"You fucker," you breathed, going to embrace your boyfriend after almost two weeks apart, "you scared me." Jorgi giggled against your shoulder, ghosting it with a few kisses before grabbing your face with both hands. He inspected you, taking all your features in and grateful he was seeing them in real life and not over a grainy video call.

"My beautiful girl." Jorgi chuckled, pressing a lasting kiss to your forehead before taking his coat and bag off.

It wasn't until the two of you were getting into bed that night, that you finally realised what was so different about him. You were snuggled in bed, whilst Jorgi was still brushing his teeth in the bathroom. The lights were low, apart from the dim lighting your phone was creating, and you felt your boyfriend's arms wrap around you.

"It feels good to be back in bed," Jorgi sighed, shimmying further into your sheets, "well, this bed. My bed just isn't the same." You giggled, locking your phone as you gave one last look to your boyfriend. But just as he closed his eyes, he could feel the harsh flashlight on his face, causing him to grimace and open his eyes once again.

"Where's your hair gone?"

"What?"

"You heard me," you sat up, turning your lamp on this time, "where's your blond hair gone?" Jorgi smiled, relieved he hadn't gone bald suddenly, before relaxing back into the pillows. Meanwhile you were utterly shocked, heartbroken, close to lighting a cigarette and sliding down your wall in tears.

"I got a haircut before the match, doll," Jorgi confessed, throwing his arm over your lap as you were now sat up. He said it so casually, as if losing the blond was something to be okay with. It was his hair, but he knew how much you loved it.

You settled beside him, finally joining him in the darkness and feeling his hand on your face, swiping gently over your cheek to calm you. You stared at him and his features, his closed eyes and his beard, the small smile on his face as he wasn't truly asleep yet.

"Would you dye it again?" You asked.

"No, it was just something I did for fun after the euros win," Jorgi replied, his hand sliding down the outline of your body to rest on your hip, gently massaging it. But you pouted, and he could see it without even opening his eyes.

"Come on, you looked so sexy with the blond, especially when it was faded," you reasoned, egging him on to say yes. You felt bad for trying to persuade him, as he was half asleep and probably shattered from the match today.

"Only if you do it."

"What?"

"You heard me," he mocked you, a smirk on his face, "I'll go blond again if you do it this time." You had dyed your own hair before, plenty of times, and all your skills had been learnt from years of visiting your mother's hair salon. She taught you how to cut, dye, and treat your hair. So it only made sense for Jorgi to ask you, as he knew you wouldn't ruin it. You wanted it, after all.

The following morning, as Jorgi was showering, you decided to call your mum to ask about everything you needed to do your boyfriend's hair. You made a list, seeing as she began to name half the hair product aisle, before finally dragging your boyfriend with you to buy everything.

You held the basket, throwing the items on the list in as well as a few other things you needed. Jorgi kept throwing in whatever he wanted, saying he'd pay for it all, and you didn't care. You just wanted to leave, to have all your items in your car before your arm ripped off. Jorgi could see you struggling to carry the heavy basket, and stopped in front of you.

"Give it here," he ordered, voice firm but not mean, and you shook your head.

"Wouldn't want to embarrass you," you quipped, laughing to yourself as you walked around him. Jorgi was used to your jokes by now, after being surrounded by you for so long. He'd even started saying them at work, to which his teammates would say he'd been spending too much time with you.

You were back home two hours later, after Jorgi insisted you both stopped for a coffee. He'd thrown on some old clothes, sitting on a stool you'd brought into the bathroom. It was a long process of waiting, Jorgi complaining his scalp was on fire, washing, and toning. But by the end of the night, his hair was back to it's usual, preferred blond.

"How do I look?" Jorgi asked after his evening shower, shaking a towel over his head and giving you a look. You were laid over the couch, and had paused your movie to take him in.

"The blond suits you so much better, you're so sexy." You commented, Jorgi's cheeks tinged pink as he approached you. You had gotten familiar with the blond hair and now you couldn't live without it.

[bun-ika]

I haven't written anything in years, but this came over me today.... So I have a headcannon about the bad batch absolutely loving ABBA. That shot is always playing during their flights and no one really acknowledges it? No one would ever really own up to it if they were asked, but when Echo joins and a song comes on (super trouper) he's instantly hit with a memory he has long forgotten. Mentions of drinking and cigarettes, death.

-----

A drunken night at 79s with his brothers who have long since been remembered only with whispers and the curls that stick to his neck when his hair got too long. He sees their faces in the tattoos of his vod that bring back memories of blue paint and laughter, anxiety over silly pranks that started as stupid banter and ended with Rex's hair a lovely shade of pink....

The flash started and ended too fast, like the jump to hyperspace that made your stomach lurch, like seeing her over the other side of the bar, and your heart goes to your throat.... but for a moment he was back, Fives at his side again, and he was alive.

It was your standard 501st outing. Wild, essential, loud. His brother's clung to one another in a drunken haze, the music in 79s pounding, alive with a pulse that made the hardened soldiers forget if only for a brief moment those of theor vod who no longer had theirs. It was late in the night, past the time you were supposed to call it, past the time that suggested things would only go downhill from there. Jesse stood beside Kix, who even for tonight was much more inebriated than he usually was. Hands clung to the back of blacks as the song switched and Fives erupted in a yell, his brothers taking a moment to process what was happening in their own states of what was definitely not sobriety. Echo watched as Fives exclaimed another outburst after slamming a shot glass onto the bar top, a blue liquid running down the side of the glass, making the now cracked cup illuminate under the strobing lights ahead. Tup was quick to start to dance to the music, pulling Hardcase and Jesse along with him in their messy circle of clones.

Super trouper beams are gonna blind me

But I won't feel blue

Like I always do

'Cause somewhere in the crowd there's you

As the song began, Echo felt the familiar feeling of anxiety mixed with exhilaration, a feeling all too familiar around Fives and his vod. Fives flashed his twin a grin, grasping the hand that didn't hold Echo's whisky, while the other brought the glass to his brother's lips "drink, drink, drink! Come on Echo, hurry up!" With the last of his (mostly full) glass down, his brother led him closer to the dance floor, taking the glass and tossing it behind the bar with disregard. Before Echo could look over his shoulder at the tinkling of broken glass Fives was on the move, clasping his brother's shoulder and waving to the melody of the lady's voice over the speakers.

I was sick and tired of everything

When I called you last night from Glasgow

All I do is eat and sleep and sing

Wishing every show was the last show (wishing every show was the last show)

So imagine I was glad to hear you're coming (glad to hear you're coming)

Suddenly I feel all right

(And suddenly it's gonna be)

And it's gonna be so different

When I'm on the stage tonight

He was laughing, swaying along with Fives who held his arm looped around Echo's shoulders, the other up in the air, singing along with his brothers who joined in the mismatched choir. He couldn't remember being this happy in so long, it felt like time stood still in this moment as he surveyed his memory, drinking in each drop, making his mind stay on this frozen moment, not allowing himself to remember those dark realities that threatened to seep through this precious flashback.

Somehow during the mess of singing and dancing that engulfed the group of brothers, clad in blacks and paint streaked, battle worn armour, Hardcastle had stripped off his upper layer of blacks, now fully emersed in the song, shirtless and dancing.

Tonight the super trouper lights are gonna find me

Shining like the sun (sup-p-per troup-p-per)

Smiling, having fun (sup-p-per troup-p-per)

Feeling like a number one

Tonight the super trouper beams are gonna blind me

But I won't feel blue (sup-p-per troup-p-per)

Like I always do (sup-p-per troup-p-per)

'Cause somewhere in the crowd there's you

Was he singing? Echo tried to remember, remembering this night to no avail. How many nights had there been, memories such as this one, that had been lost to time, to alcohol and the stress that weighs heavy with war? Panic fluttered in Echo's chest at the thought, but now was not the time to worry about such things, though he knew the thought would haunt him later in his bunk while his new team attempted sleep around him.

His lungs burned, maybe it was the cigarettes he had shared between himself, Fives, and hardcase during the height of their night, the three disregarding Kix's desperate attempts to snatch the cigarette away. ("Are we not facing death enough for you? Give that to me!") Across the ally, away from their gaze, the vod were unaware of the sniper that sneered at the mundane attempts while flicking his own ash onto cold pacement.

The song continued from his tight chest either way, the breath between brothers hot and smelling of various sharp liquors and the haze of smoke lingering in hair too long for regulation. Arms raised, or slung carelessly around shoulders, hands clutching a found drink, the 501st troopers were in their own world, a hidden reality away from the daily struggles that were only just outside the bar's doors.

Facing twenty thousand of your friends

How can anyone be so lonely

Part of a success that never ends

Still I'm thinking about you only (still I'm thinking about you only)

There are moments when I think I'm going crazy (think I'm going crazy)

But it's gonna be alright

(You'll soon be changing everything)

Everything will be so different

When I'm on the stage tonight

As the chorus began, Kix was tugged inbetween a Jesse and Hardcase sandwich, and though looking a little green with all the dancing and swaying the group was doing Tup was beginning to look a little green, though continued with his brothers in the wild recital.

As if on cue to his thoughts, Fives'eyes met his own, and suddenly a pair of hands were on his cheeks, holding his face as one may do to a small child, or loved partner. Though neither of those things, his twin, his brother, his vod, was looking into eyes that mirrored his own. The elated honey colour of irises would was enough to make Echo feel as if he had been hit by a speeder. As if he didn't already. Caught in a trance, there was something so... them about this moment. Not just the two best of friends, but the group. It brought another memory back, pulling at his mind of the piles that were so easy to collapse in to after long days on Kamino and even longer missions. Was it easier to remember, or forget these times, these moments?

Tonight the super trouper lights are gonna find me

Shining like the sun (sup-p-per troup-p-per)

Smiling, having fun (sup-p-per troup-p-per)

Feeling like a number one

Tonight the super trouper beams are gonna blind me

His own hands found their way on to Fives' shoulders, and it was all smiles and laughter as his brother belted out the lines...

But I won't feel blue (sup-p-per troup-p-per)

Like I always do (sup-p-per troup-p-per)

'Cause somewhere in the crowd there's you

The words held new meaning as he took it all, it, hehe hands holding his face, Fives all too real in front of him, shoulders firm and unwavering under his own palms. Somewhere, even in the darkest of moments when Echo found himself lost and torn apart, he knew his brothers were somewhere. That Fives would always have his back, and be there. That in just knowing this small comfort, things would be okay, if he was.

Maybe he was dreaming, this all seemed much to real to be a flashback, and they hadn't felt like this during one before. Echo swore he was there, really there watching, reliving, smiling at his brothers who he had gone through life with for so long, and not long enough.

So I'll be there when you arrive

The sight of you will prove to me I'm still alive

And when you take me in your arms

And hold me tight

I know it's gonna mean so much tonight

People had told him before that they walked amoung the stars, and that one day they would be together once more. Was it true? The thought was too difficult to chase.

Not for the first time, Echo found himself wondering what Fives would have thought about the group that had been so quick to adopt him. He was certain Wrecker would be thrilled at the chaotic, courageous energy that his twin radiated. Crosshair would pretend to hate him, though Echo was discovering as time went on the sniper's heart was not hidden that far from his sleeve, only to those who didn't know him. Tech would need an adjustment period, but he had a feeling that on those drunken nights the pair may stir up their own trouble if left unattended. Hunter... may have more headaches than even now. But in his core, Echo's lips turned up at the thought of his Sargent meeting Fives. The two would no doubt make for an excellent team. They all would have.

As the song began to hit its last notes, the 501st troopers were nearly out of breath, and would have very well been done for minutes previously if not for the mass amounts of training. Echo could really feel the burn of those cigarettes now. His small smile continued as he remembered Kix's chastising.

Tonight the super trouper lights are gonna find me

Shining like the sun (sup-p-per troup-p-per)

Smiling, having fun (sup-p-per troup-p-per)

Feeling like a number one

Tonight the super trouper beams are gonna blind me

But I won't feel blue (sup-p-per troup-p-per)

Like I always do (sup-p-per troup-p-per)

'Cause somewhere in the crowd there's you

They weren't here, not in body, but perhaps one day they would be able to reunite. Perhaps new memories could be made and all was not completely lost. As Echo was pulled from his memory, the familiar pang of sadness wrong through his heart, over the cybernetics that continued to be an ongoing adjustment, and through his mind as he blinked, trying to regain control. What were you supposed to do in moments like these? Touch, taste, feel, smell, hear, see...

His flesh arm seemed to regain feeling as his fingertips began to move again, his fist clenching and releasing at the reminder. The caf Crosshair made too darkly for his liking nipped at his throat, reminding him of the cigarettes outside the bar. The smell, was not one he would like to remember, but in the moment he was thankful for the grounding it brought back to his reality. As for sight... Echo blinked again, willing his eyes to take in what was around him, the final strands of the memory falling away around him as the song began to end.

lights are gonna find me

Shining like the sun (sup-p-per troup-p-per)

Smiling, having fun (sup-p-per troup-p-per)

Feeling like a number one

If he hadn't been looking for that final piece, he might have missed it as Tech mouthed the last few words of the song, lips barely moving as he stared in concentration at the piece he was working on, force knew what it was. The screwdriver in his hand moved subtly with the last notes, and he found himself standing in the same spot as he had been seconds earlier. It was as if no time had passed, and really, it hadn't moved very far, but Echo found himself feeling... thankful? Happier than before, pleased he was able to have such a vivid memory wash over him unexpectedly. Beside him, a tall, slender frame moved by him, and through teeth working over a toothpick, a grumble was heard just low enough for Echo to hear, "going to stand there all day, reg?" ("Are you okay?") He really didn't miss a thing. Choking out something resembling a laugh, Echo shook his head before looking over at his new brother.

beams are gonna blind me

But I won't feel blue (sup-p-per troup-p-per)

Like I always do (sup-p-per troup-p-per)

"I think I got lost for a minute there." Crosshair barely nodded before turning away and stalking off.

Echo willed his joints to move beneath him as a hand he couldn't feel clapped his shoulder soundlessly from beyond the stars. An unspoken bond, never forgotten or broken through time, distance, or life itself, his twin watched on as Echo started towards Tech, who looked up at him with a small grin. It was time to get to work.

[fontegagrilledcheese]

Dumbasses in Quarantine

This is my Bog Exchange fic! I finally finished! This is for the lovely @herostag I hope they like it!

Special thanks to Dani and Doug for beating my grammar with a stick. Ily <3

This is 2.9K words of idiots being idiots during the plague. Just pure fluff, no CW here. Modern Au.

1. Geralt had finally had enough of Jaskier complaining about all the takeout they had been consuming since everything had gone on lockdown, so here he was, watching a pot of noodles cook while Jaskier was in the living room weeding his island in Animal Crossing for the third time that week. He stirs the spaghetti around before grabbing a second pot and the jar of pasta sauce that he had bought at some point in the last few years. Geralt pours the sauce into the pot, throws some Italian seasoning in and hmms at the consistency before ladling some pasta water into the sauce to thin it out slightly. “Dinner’s almost ready” Geralt softly calls to Jaskier before going back to his noodles, fishing one out to check the doneness. Geralt bites into it and makes a face at the sweetness as Jaskier walks into the kitchen.

 “Everything all right there?” Jaskier inquires, coming over to look into the pots on the stove. 

“Hmmm, I think so. Taste this?” Geralt fishes another noodle out to hand over to Jaskier, who eats it with a hum. 

“That doesn’t taste right,” Jaskier says thoughtfully. “But I don't know enough about cooking to dispute it.” 

Geralt hums again, “Think it will be fine?” 

Jaskier just shrugs and goes to set the table, leaving Geralt to finish putting the meal together. Geralt tilts his head at the pots on the stove before pulling out his phone to text  Eskel ‘is pasta supposed to be sweet when cooking?’

While waiting for a reply, Geralt drains the noodles and dumps them into the sauce to stir them in before his phone rings with a call from Eskel. 

“You tried a noodle and it tasted sweet?”

“Yeah, is it supposed to be like that?”

There is a moment of silence where Lambert can be heard laughing in the background before Eskel replies, “Are you sure you put salt in the water?”

“Yeah, poured a bunch of salt in there like you said to.”

Eskel hums, “Are you sure it wasn't sugar? Did you make sure to taste it first?”

The silence on Geralt's side is telling, and Lambert can be heard dying in the background. 

“Thanks Eskel,” Geralt says before hanging up and staring down at the pot of sugared spaghetti. 

“Hey Jask, how do you feel about getting takeout again?”

Jaskier sighs, “What happened?”

Geralt blushes “I… I may have put sugar in the water instead of salt…”

“Oh… but the sauce?” 

“I put some of the pasta water in the sauce to thin it.”

Jaskier starts giggling, “G-Geralt... noooo.”

Geralt sighs, wearily turning off the stove. “So takeout?” 

“Yeah, takeout is fine. Whatever you feel like.”

Geralt hums and pulls up the delivery app, “Sorry, Jask.”

Jaskier sidles up to him, giving him a half hug, “Thanks for trying.” He leans fully into him so he can see Geralt's phone as they order.

2. A while into quarantine, Jaskier decided he needed some greenery in his life, since he couldn’t leave the house. This led Jaskier to order himself a cute little cactus from a local nursery for the next time they order a grocery pick up. Talking Geralt into stopping by the shop on the way back from the store proved easier than Jaskier had anticipated. Geralt had begrudgingly agreed after hours of Jaskier’s pouting and puppy eyes wearing him down. 

Jaskier dances around the apartment with his new treasure before placing it on the sunny windowsill in their living room. Geralt rolls his eyes but smiles at his roommates' antics, “You do know how to take care of it don’t you?”

Jaksier pouts at him, “It’s a cactus, how hard can it be! I just water it every so often and bam, beautiful thriving mini Geralt!”

Geralt huffs at him, grabbing a controller for their gaming console, “You promised I could destroy you at Mortal Combat if we picked up the plant.”

“Yes, yes Geralt I’m coming, just let me water my precious child.”

Weeks later, Little Geralt starts looking a bit droopy, causing Jaskier to water him, but unfortunately Jaskier does not account for his ADHD and lack of calendar filling out, and proceeds to water the poor cactus every day for the next two weeks, water logging and eventually killing poor Little Geralt.

Once Jaskier realizes, he cries to Geralt only a little and has a funeral for the cactus as he throws it away, being the absolute most dramatic about it as possible. Geralt just rolls his eyes at the antics and adds a new plant to the order list to pick up the next time they have their outing to go get groceries.

Jaskier gives Geralt the biggest hug when he realises they’re heading to the plant store and talks excitedly about how determined he is to to not kill Little Geralt the Second; Geralt just rolls his eyes half heartedly but helps Jaskier set up a calendar to keep track of when he’s watered the cactus. This works for about a month before Jaskier gets busy and forgets about his little plant, frying on the windowsill, until Geralt notices about three months later.

“Hey Jask, your cactus is looking a bit… shriveled.”

Jaskier rushes into the living room “NO!” He yells as he slides to a stop on his knees before the  dried up little plant “Noooooooo, Little Geralt the Second, nooooo!” he shakes his fists at the ceiling.

Geralt pats his shoulder comfortingly, “At least it lived longer this time.”

Jaskier shakes his head with a sigh. “I’m a terrible plant parent.”

Geralt hmms consolingly, “We can get you another. I’ll try to help you keep better track of it this time.” 

Jaskier nods, “Thanks Geralt,” and picks up his dead plant to go throw it out. 

Geralt just hmms and pulls up the pick-up list on his phone to add a new little cactus.

Three months later, Little Geralt the Third is thriving in its place on the windowsill, happily soaking up the sun on a bright spring day as a breeze comes through the window. Jaskier dances around the living room, vacuuming and dusting as Geralt cleans the kitchen of the previous night’s actually decent attempt at cooking. Jaskier sings along to ABBA, twirling with his duster mic when disaster strikes poor Little Geralt the Third. Jaskier swirls too close to the window and pops his hip at just the wrong time and the plant wobbles before being pushed off the edge and falls three stories down to the concrete sidewalk down below. Jaskier freezes at the crashing sound and turns to look out the window, staring down at his poor, broken plant.

“Nooooooo, Geralt!” Jaskier yells, and Geralt comes running in from the kitchen, startled by Jaskier’s cry. 

“Jask?!” 

Jaskier just points down at the sidewalk, falling to his knees “Geralt, I killed him! I killed our son! To ABBA!” 

Jaskier sprawls out on the floor dramatically, mourning the fate of poor Little Geralt the Third, who had been thriving wonderfully before going splat on the pavement. 

Geralt sits down next to his dramatic roommate and pats his leg, “That one was actually doing pretty well. Maybe we could get another and just find a better place for it to sit?”

Jaskier sniffles and looks through his lashes at Geralt, “Really?” 

Geralt nods before being tackled to the ground in a tight hug. 

“Thanks Geralt.” Jaskier whispers, nuzzling into his friend.

3. Geralt stood staring into the mirror at the red roots growing into his perfect silver platinum hair. He pouts at it, looking at his hair and then back down at his phone at the pictures of his past beautiful silver hair. 

“I can do it, how hard can it be?” he grumbles, glaring back at his roots. He nods to himself before searching different bleaches, toners, and silver dyes that are available at their local beauty shop.

A week and two trips to the store later, Geralt is once again standing in the bathroom and glaring at his roots in the mirror. “How hard can it be...”

Five hours later, Jaskier comes home from the park to Geralt sitting on the couch in a hoodie with the hood on and scrunched up around his face, pouting.

“So how did it go?” he asks.

Geralt grunts in response.

“Oh it can’t be that bad,” comes Jaskier’s exasperated reply, reaching for the hood over the back of the couch.

Geralt growls and catches his hand, yanking and pulling Jaskier over the couch and partially into his lap.

Jaskier laughs and reaches up again with both hands, trying to use one as a distraction. Geralt growls again and tackles him to the floor to pin him, where they tussle around before Jaskier gets an upper hand and pulls the hood off. Geralt freezes as Jaskier stares at him with wide eyes and a growing smile.

 “Don’t,” he growls.

Jaskier’s grin turns into giggles, then into full on laughter. “Geralt! Your hair!” 

Geralt sits back with a pout, still sitting on Jaskier. “I know, it's horrible.”

“It's bright purple! What did you do!?”

Geralt flushes, “I forgot to set a timer and left the toner in too long. It should wash out and wear off in a few weeks,” he grumbles.

Jaskier continues to giggle. “Well at least it's not permanent, and you bleached the roots pretty well.”

Geralt sighs and nods before laying down on Jaskier for a consolation cuddle. “Yeah, at least there's that.”

4. Geralt’s birthday was coming up and Jaskier was determined to celebrate it, even if they couldn’t go on their customary birthday bar crawl that they had gone on for both of their birthdays since they had been roommates in college. Jaskier wanted to go the extra mile for his bestest friend in the whole world and decided that he was going to make Geralt a homemade cake, icing drizzle and all. Jaskier had scoured the internet for weeks trying to find a cake he thought geralt would like and that he thought he could make with his limited baking abilities. He finally found the perfect recipe for a simple strawberry pound cake that he only had to buy a minimal amount of extra ingredients for. 

The day of Geralt's birthday, Jaskier sets up in the kitchen and banishes Geralt to the living room to play his new Witcher game while Jaskier makes the cake. 

He starts by setting out everything he needs and getting the beaters set up and his recipe out. He preheats the oven and then gets to work measuring everything out carefully, looking back at his recipe often, so often he doesn’t quite notice that he’s grabbed the salt container instead of the sugar and measures out the three cups the recipe calls for before adding it into the wet ingredients bowl to cream together as stated by the recipe. Jaskier goes about making his cake and mixing it up, carefully pouring it into the disposable cake tin they had bought specially for the event before putting it in the oven and carefully setting a timer on his phone.

He takes a break for a moment to make a cup of tea before cleaning up the mess from the cake and mixing up the simple drizzle icing for the cake.

The timer goes off and Jaskier pokes the cake with a toothpick as he has been directed, frowning at the lopsided cake. 

“Is that how it should look?” he mutters to himself, looking at the clean toothpick. “Guess it’s done.”

He pulls the cake out of the oven and  sets it on the rack to cool, poking little holes in it with the toothpick to help it cool and absorb some of the icing later.

After 30 minutes, he drizzles the icing over the cake, humming happily to himself. 

“Geralt, do you want to do cake now or later?” he calls into the living room. Geralt hmms and stands before replying, “Now.”

Jaskier grins and grabs them plates, forks, and a knife to cut the cake with.

Geralt stands beside him at the counter, smiling softly at the cake Jaskier has made him. 

“Thanks Jask,” he says softly. 

Jaskier grins fully at him. “Happy birthday, Geralt!”

They cut into the cake and serve themselves. Geralt happily eats his, reaching out to get seconds while Jaskier frowns at his slice. “Does this taste right to you?” he takes another bite while Geralt shrugs.

“Tastes fine to me,” he replies, happy to continue eating what his Jaskier has made him. 

Jaskier frowns more and looks at his recipe, “I dunno, doesn’t it taste salty?” 

Geralt hmms in thought before continuing to eat, “Suppose so, but it’s not too bad.”

Jaskier gasps. “Geralt! No Geralt, stop eating that! I must have mixed up the salt and sugar when I was measuring, oh! It's terrible, I’m so sorry, Geralt,” he whines, looking almost at the verge of tears. 

This causes Geralt to pause his gremlin-like cake eating, setting the plate down before pulling his best friend into a tight hug, resting his head against the others. “So maybe you had a booboo with it and it’s a little salty. You know I’m not picky, and it tastes fine and vaguely like strawberries. I’ll eat it anyway, Jask.” he grumbles out.

Jaskier sniffles. “But you deserve a good cake that’s made correctly.”

Geralt hums, “Maybe, but this is something you’ve made for me with all your heart, and I think it tastes alright, and I will keep eating it, because you made it for me and that makes it taste all the sweeter.”

Jaskier sniffles again, squeezing the man in his arms tightly “Oh, you big softy! You don’t have to eat it.” 

“But I want to.”

“Fine.” Jaskier sighs, nuzzling the broad chest he’s pressed against. “Love you”

Geralt smiles softly, pressing a kiss to Jaskiers temple. “Love you too, you disaster.” 

Jaskier gasps and smacks his chest “You!”

Geralt laughs and grabs his cake before dragging Jaskier to the couch. “Come on, I demand my birthday cuddles.”

Jaskier puffs his cheeks but settles against Geralt on the couch, holding the controller for him “If this is my penance.”

5. Usually Jaskier did the laundry while Geralt did dishes. This was because Jaskier had many a delicate piece in his wardrobe and he did not trust Geralt to treat his clothes the right way if he were to do the laundry. Geralt didn’t care much either way who did the dishes and who did the laundry, as long as the chores ended up done in the end. This was how their kitchen, laundry nook, and part of their living room ended up absolutely covered in bubbles.

They had decided to switch up the chore rotation for the week because the dishes weren’t too bad and Jaskier hadn’t worn any of his ‘delicate’ pieces in the past week and a half, meaning there was nothing of his Geralt could mess up. The switching of chores had unforeseen consequences however, in that neither remembers exactly how to do the new chore, as they hadn’t had to in at least a year. Rather than ask the other for help, both Jaskier and Geralt decided to wing it and try their best. 

Jaskier stares down at Geralt, slav squatting, staring at the bubbles that were slowly invading their apartment via the laundry and kitchen. 

“So, I couldn’t remember which dish liquid was the one for the dishwasher and put the red one in, which was apparently the wrong choice…… What did you do to create the bubbles in the washer?” 

Geralt grunts. “That was the dawn dish soap that we hand wash the alcohol glasses with,” he sighs. “I may have put a full cup of laundry detergent in the washing machine”

Jaskier gasps “A full- Geralt! The entire cup!? That’s at least double the amount you’re supposed to use!” 

Geralt pouts. “I couldn’t remember how much,” he grumbles

“You could have asked me!”

This earns Jaskier a raised eyebrow and the stink eye.

“Fair enough,” he giggles. “We should have asked each other when we were confused.”

Geralt nods before standing. “Well I guess we should turn the appliances off before the bubbles get worse… wish me luck”

Jaskier nods and jokingly salutes him. “I’ll remember you dearly.”

Geralt chuckles and shakes his head before wading into the bubbles to stop the dishwasher and washing machine cycles.

A minute later he reappears, covered in bubbles from head to toe, looking like some sort of grumpy snowman. Jaskier laughs at him before Geralt smirks and captures him in a bear hug, causing the man to shriek. “Nooo! Geralt my clothes! Ackkkk!”

Geralt swings him, picking him up slightly. “I think if we let the bubbles settle we can clean up in a little, but we should change first.”

Jaskier pouts “The point of you doing it was so only one of us had to change.”

Geralt gives him a toothy grin, carrying him towards their bedrooms to change. “But you laughed at me, that demands retribution.”

Jaskier just sticks his tongue out at him before being set down in front of his room. “Wanna play Smash while we wait?”

Geralt grins, “What, wanna get wrecked that badly?” he winks to Jaskiers affronted gasp before going in his room to change.

guess I’ll add my tag list huh

@geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde @jaskiersvalley @jaskierswolf @dani-dandelino @wherethewordsare @softnerdypeter @thecomfortofoldstorries @dapandapod @lindianaj0nes @kuripon​ @elliestormfound @veritasrose

Hope y’all enjoyed it >///<

[soullesscoffee]

men after midnight || part one.

{ poly!the lost boys x fem!reader }

|| part two ||

rating: explicit

word count: 3287

chapter summary: y/n organizes a beach bachelorette party for her best friend. just as the party was getting started it is crashed by a group of punks dressed in leather with big attitudes. y/n is hesitant at first but as the night goes on they are enchanted by their charm.

warning: fem!reader, use of alcohol, use of tobacco, mentions of jealousy, heavy petting, dirty talk, sexual tension, and slow burn.

a/n: i re-listened to the mamma mia sound track and this is what came to my brain. this has not been proof read and i am posting his five hours before i have to go into work, so no sleep for me. but enjoy!

An airy laugh left your lip escaping into the wine glass. The wine swished as your body shook from the brief moment of entertainment. Digging your toes in the cold sand of the night you are kept warm by the bonfire that sat parallel to you. The echoes off laughs surround you as the other members of the bridal party are laughing about themselves as well to the story that the bride, your best friend, was telling,

“No I swear, it was the funniest thing I have ever seen, that poor waiter must’ve been so embarrassed. I tipped him like 25% because I felt so bad!” The bride's words are broken by the laughter that she cannot contain. Her own body leaning back trembling with laughter as she clutched her beer bottle in her left hand. Your eyes admire the glimmer of the rock that sits on her ring finger. Every time your eyes even glanced towards it you felt a pang in your chest. This was your best friend. There is no way you should be hurt, or jealous by it. But why were you? You’re still young, full of life, in need for an adventure. You don’t need to be tied down by a ring and a piece of paper. Titling your head down you glance down at your wine glass and take a deep breath, suddenly no longer laughing like the rest of the group. The voices around you go muffled as you start to think about the wedding that is only weeks away. The duties of being the maid of honor was starting to sit on your shoulders. You were the one to set up a bachelorette party. The bride didn’t want anything special, just a night of hanging out and drinking. Something you two haven’t done since the two of you were in high school. You were cut out of your trance when the girls started to squeal and get up. One of the bridesmaids started to turn up the radio. A chuckle left your nose as the ABBA - Gimmie! Gimmie! Gimmie! starts to blast through the speakers of the large stereo. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes as you sipped your merlot not paying attention to the women dancing around the fire. It wasn’t until a figure covered your light and warmth from the fire did you look up. The bride, your best friend, Jennifer was standing in front of you. Her white crop top and skirt accompanied with a flower crown was in your presence as she held out an extended hand. “Come on! We used to dance to this song all in the clubs!” She whined, shaking her hand for you to take and presumably dance along with her and the four other girls. You shake your head, “Fine, but you get to pour me another glass after this,” you respond tilting your head back to chug the rest of your wine. As you did so you grasped her hand setting down your empty glass next to the drift wood you sat along.

Standing you could feel the instant rush of the alcohol invade your system making your stomach feel warm and fuzzy. Then your head started to feel light and relieved. You danced along with the other girls as everyone danced along the fire. You stopped dancing around the fire as everyone, including yourself started to sing along to the excitement of the song. 

“There's not a soul out there! No one to hear my prayer!” You belt at the tops of your lungs pausing at different poses to the beat before letting the song drop. You start jumping and laughing, your subconscious being grateful that the beach was practically abandoned for it was nearing midnight. Though the group was a distance away from the boardwalk to not be interrupted by any juvenile attitudes.

“Gimme, gimme, gimme a man after midnight! Won't somebody help me chase the shadows away!” You laugh and grove your hips along with the melody enjoying yourself and getting lost in the music, “Gimme, gimme, gimme a man after midnight! Take me through the darkness to the break of the day!” You start dancing around the fire once more enjoying your time grooving along, not noticing the four figures emerging from the darkness. 

“Well it looks like your prayers have been answered ladies!” A booming voice cracks through your musical hypnotic state. This causes you to jump and a couple of the girls to shriek but laugh it off. You however weren’t laughing. You were quite pissed at the interruption, “Sorry fellas this is a private function!” You holler from afar, the look on your features clearly unamused. Yet you couldn’t help but be amused by the get up of the loud one. His hair tufted into a long blonde straight mullet, donning a fishnet shirt and a blazer with a chain of coins trailing down his chest and safety pins scattered through the fabric. There was only a ripple of giggles and chuckles, but the grip on your arm from the bride was what made you look at her. “Y/N! I think it’ll be fine if these boys join us. I mean look at how cute they are,” she whispers into your ear before biting her lip and clearly eye-fucking the boys. You open your mouth to protest but Jennifer started to pout at you giving you big puppy dog eyes. 

“We’ll be good, Y/N. Won’t we boys?” The one in the front of the semi v formation calls towards you, the sound of your name coming from him causes shivers to go down your spine. You huff and roll your eyes. “Fine, but one funny move and I am kicking all of your asses.” You spat returning towards your piece of the driftwood as the girls started to whisper amongst themselves and started to offer the men drinks. Are they even allowed to drink? You question to yourself before grappling your empty glass from the sand to go fill it up at the drinking station. The girls continue to sing and enjoy their time but your mood has switched a complete 180. As you reach out for the Merlot bottle fingerless gloves grasp it before you can. “Merlot, aren’t you fancy. This isn’t even the cheap shit.” You look up trying to connect the voice to the face. Your eyes met a small face framed by curly long hair and a Cheshire like grin. “Yeah, I should’ve gotten the cheap shit. Sometimes it has a high alcohol content.” You reply with a smirk trying not to be hostile and ruin the mood of the party. 

One of his hands grasped your wrist softly pulling your hand towards his body. The man carefully poured you a decent glass. “The name’s Marko,” he starts before looking you up and down. The action causes you to blush. Marko took a red cup himself and filled it a little bit, “I am guessing your the manager of the function. I hope we can keep you ladies entertained tonight. We did hear your call,” his sly grin grew on his lips. A chuckle left your lips, “I’m pretty sure we were fine on our own. But thank you Marko, if it was up to me you guys wouldn’t be drinking our alcohol and partying.” You reply bluntly sipping your wine, but then the sudden chill causes the hairs on the back of your neck to rise. “Man, this babe is feisty,” the one who interrupted the party in the first place calls from behind you. He places his hand on the small of your back as he reaches over you to grab a red solo cup. Marko poured him some wine as well and smirked towards his friend, “Y’know Paul, it’s not nice to invade the ladies space.” 

The one named Paul snickered from behind her, “I think she’s just fine with it, aren’t you babe?” He asks you with his breath caressing your ear, causing a tingle to form in your brain. You clear your tightening throat to slip from his grip. “Not really,” you admit honestly and he feigned an expression of hurt. “Ouch,” Marko however on the other hand could only laugh at this interaction. You parted yourself from the boys cheering yourself from the two men and sigh to yourself as you trudge back to your bench of driftwood. Once you sit yourself down you watch as the two blondes start to mingle themselves with the girls. They clearly were flirting with all of them, including the bride, she was playing with Marko’s ornate jacket. Twirling the fringes between her fingers and grazing the patches. In reaction you chug the wine out of pure petty anger and lean back to stare into the fire. 

“So who’s the lucky one?” You whip your head behind you to see the platinum blonde standing behind you admiring the crowd along with you. “I don’t see a ring on your finger,” he bluntly states as he pops a cigarette between his pink lips. The first thing you notice is his bright blue eyes that seemingly glowed in the dark. You could only roll your eyes and give a dull chuckle. You lift your left hand, “Clearly. She’s the one in the flower crown. Well the one with the biggest flower crown.” You inform crossing your bare legs over one another. The sudden smell of burning tobacco and nicotine hit your nose, but you try to ignore it. Before you knew it he was sitting beside you. He held the cigarette out towards you between his leather glove clad fingers, your eyes flickering to it before flickering to his. He raises his brows and nudges it towards you, “Thanks,” you mumble plucking it from his fingers and taking a couple of puffs before handing it back to him, “I’m David. I see you have already met Paul and Marko. The brunette is Dwayne. Thank you for letting us join your function.” David snickers, leaning back and letting the smoke come out of his nose. “Well it wasn’t my choice,” you start and David tilts his head towards you in pure curiosity, “Clearly, it’s not your party,” You blink at him as you try to figure out whether his tone was condescending or not. “Yeah, you’re right. Not my party.” You reply by taking another gulp of your wine hoping the farther you got down the glass the quicker time would go by. 

“But that doesn’t mean you can’t have fun, and you don’t look like you're having fun at all. At least not like the way you did before,” He notes before inhaling a deep draw from his cigarette. An airy chuckle leaves your lips, “Not really, the party got crashed- Wait, you were watching us?” this time it was David’s turn to chuckle, “We heard the amount of fun and Paul couldn’t resist himself to a party.” You furrow your brows at the reply, “So why did you follow?”

“I can’t say no to a night of fun.” He responds giving you a smirk leaning closer towards you, starting to close the proximity. Heat rises to the tips of your ears and the base of your neck. You try to fool yourself, it's the alcohol. However, you can smell the man’s cologne and musk directly off of him. It was so hypnotizing. Just like his eyes, you tilt your head slightly as he continues to speak, “Have some fun, Y/N.” he states, quipping his index finger under your chin. Suddenly you felt your whole body go numb and your mind go blank.

As the night grew you found yourself getting more comfortable with the punks. You were not in the arms of Dwayne, the two of you swaying back and forth to the music as the other two were dancing with the other girls. David sat chatting with the bride clearly enchanting you with his charisma you picked up on so quickly. You glance over your shoulder to look at David who was talking to the bride, yet as you looked over his piercing blue eyes flicked your way. A sudden sly smirk on his lips left you mouth agape with wonder at what was happening in his eyes. Hungry Eyes by Eric Carmen echoes through the night sky. Dwayne however gripped your chin between his thumb and index and pulled your attention to him. His hands rested back on your lower back barely grazing the bare skin under your clipped shirt. “It’s rude to not focus on your dancing partner,” he muses with a charming smirk as he pulls you closer flush to his bare chest. A slight gasp left your lips as the contact surprised you. You swallow and look up into his piercing brown eyes, “I-I’m sorry,” you whisper clearly blushing under the moonlight but was thankful it was dark and farther from the fire. “I was only joking,” he claims before spinning you out and pulling you close once more. Your hands rested awkwardly on his shoulders. Keeping eye contact with you, his fingers grazed your sides, ghosting over your sides as he pulled them up your arms. He formed your hands behind his neck. You couldn’t help but smile at the small gesture as your eyes trail along the painted leopard on his arm. “You’re more relaxed,” he notes and you nod at him, “Yeah, thank you for pulling me away from those two. I thought my brain was going to hemorrhage if I kept talking to them,” You tease about Marko and Paul, to which Dwayne could only chuckle. As the second chorus started to pick up Dwayne settled his leg between yours, “Believe it or not they bring the fun with them,” Dwayne replies, starting to smile as he twists you to where his chest was flush with yours. You freeze for a moment as the chorus builds up, “Yet maybe, we can offer a different kind of fun?” Dwayne whispers in your eyes, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. You instantly felt your cheeks get hot as his large hands travel down your sides to your hips guiding you to sway along with him. You could feel your backside grazing his groin as he pulled you closer with guidance. Your breath started to pick up as your heart raced with anticipation as one of his hands traveled to your navel splaying across only his pinky dipping in your waistband of your denim shorts. Looking up from the sand your eyes connect with David’s who held an intense eye contact with you as you started to feel yourself unravelling. “I asked you a question,” Dwayne whispers once again in your ear trialing his lips down to your neck, long brown hair cascading down your chest. His seemingly chilled lips contrasted against your hot skin. “I- I- don’t-” you choke out as you feel another finger enter your waist band, causing heat to grow at your core. You hand held onto his with a deathly clutch.

You feel his bare chest rumble from a chuckle as he ground himself into you, nipping at the base of your ear. You gasp from the action, a surge of adrenaline rush didn’t make you correlate as Dwayne pulled you back around to only grasp your belt loop and spin you away from him. You land in another person’s arms, you look up to see Paul looking down at you. His handsome smile beaming down at you as he pulls you close. “Finally, I was starting to feel Dwayne was going to keep you all to himself.” He smirks as pulls your waist down, guiding you to dance alone with him, his hips moving seemingly against yours. Your lips parted as your heat grazed for a moment against his thigh, “Why were you starting to get jealous?” You couldn’t help but tease. The tease caused Paul to quirk his brows in surprise but also amusement, “It’s not fair for him to hold someone as fit as you to himself,” he quips pulling your hips down so your core continues to grind on his thigh. A gasp leaves your lips involuntary, “Especially when you gasp like that,” Paul rasped against your parted lips. You head spun with how all of this was happening and how quickly. Heavy pants coming from both parties started to ignite a fire deep within. On instinct you close the gap between his and your lips, engaging in a fiery kiss that took your breath away. As your hands crawled up Paul’s chest to wrap your arms around your neck you feel fingerless gloves graze under your shirt. Then a pressure from behind the culprit you assumed to be Marko pressed amongst you dancing along as well. You part your lips from Paul, hypnotized by ministrations from both of the men.

Marko had both his hands up your cropped shirt gently clawing and pawing at the plush bare skin underneath. “Starting without me?” Marko asks against your shoulder before pressing his lips to your skin. You tense a moment before relaxing into his touch, wrapping an arm behind you to Marko’s neck, drowning in the intoxicating smell of both men’s scents. The grinding and the pressure from both of the men caused you to pant along with the beat. “The fun’s just starting.” Paul purrs as Marko connects his lips to the crook of your neck. The sensation causes a sigh to leave your lips and you loll your head to the side giving him more access to your neck. Marko’s hands trailed down, over Paul’s hands on your hips to your thighs. He even gently grazes his index finger over your zipper before gripping the hem of your denim shorts, digging his nails into your skin as he bites down on your neck with his blunt teeth. You gasp distracted by the excitement to notice Paul leaving your grip. Your hands grip his as your nails dig into his gloves. You close your eyes for a moment letting a sigh float from your lips as he pulls you by your belt loop like Dwayne and spinning you away from him. 

You snap your eyes open to see your hands land on a layer of leather. Your toes touched the tips of boots. You graze your hands to the black t-shirt. Gloved fingers pinch your chin and pull it upwards. You are met by stark blue eyes and a honeyed voice, “Having fun?” David asks, tilting his head down as he waits for your breathless answer. You could only nod as your legs felt like jelly and your head spun at a million miles per house. “Good,” he whispers against your lips, ghosting his breath that had reminisce of cigarette on it. You were in trouble. You thought to yourself. His other hand pulled you close by the small of your back to press against him as he entrapped you in a powerful kiss. You could feel the tip of his nose pressed against your cheekbone. His gloved hand moved from pinching your chin to grasping your neck just below your jaw. His kiss swallows your quiet moment that you tried your hardest to suppress. David pulls away after a moment, his hand still placed under your jaw as he admired your flushed face. You could only admire his face amongst the bonfire that lit his dilated pierced ocean eyes that looked at you as if you were his next meal. A chuckle rumbled through his chest as he looked at your haphazard state. “Are you ready to get your prayers answered?” He questions with a knowing smirk. The only response you can give him was keeping your lips parted as his eyes sunk you deeper in a hypnotic state. You slowly nod as his gloved hand caresses your cheek.

[gryffindors-weasley]

Home

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Summary: With the wizarding war finally put behind you, Draco feels as though it’s time for a change.

Warnings: mentions of the war, mild angst, mentions of anxiety, fluff, lots of kisses

It had been rather dreary when morning finally rolled around at the Manor, puffy gray clouds covering the expanse of the sky as rain drizzled steadily. The weather appeared to be sticking around for a while, and it left Draco grumbling over his morning cup of coffee in disapproval as he watched the rain drops trickle down the windowpanes one after another.

“Is that a hint, Draco?” You inquire, raising a curious brow at him as you tried to pull any bit of information from him you can. You make your way around the large kitchen table to where he leaned against the marble counter, standing on your tip-toes and kissing his cheek sweetly.

“Consider it your only one, my Darling. I’m not allowing you to spoil any more surprises.”

That last part is spoken against your lips, lips that soon meld together in a lovingly gentle kiss that tasted of coffee and cream. You sigh softly when you parted, but your longing for clues is just barely appeased for the time being. However, you were not letting this go and he knew it.

He was beginning to regret telling you about such surprises the day before because you hadn’t stopped asking for bits and pieces since, even going so far as to waking him in the middle of the night. You claimed you couldn’t sleep from the excitement, and he hadn’t minded the sweet kisses you had given to wake him. But now he was rather tired.

He watched after you with a soft smile as you disappeared from the large room momentarily, coming back with your coat and shoes on.

“Are you ready, love?”

Your tone was ever so sweet with more than a hint of excited impatience laced amongst your words. He was ready, save for his shoes. You had thought he’d looked absolutely handsome, though his choice in clothes had given no indication of what the plan was for the day. He was dressed in a simple gray t-shirt and a pair of black pants, rolled up once or twice at the ankles. At first he thought it looked absolutely ridiculous, but with a lot of wearing down on your end, he finally caved. His hair was a mess, icy blonde strands dipping down in his eyes as a chunk stuck out rebelliously in the very back. He had a habit of leaving his bedhead untouched much to his mothers dismay.

He set his mug down with a soft sigh and brushed past you with a tired kiss and a hum in response, moving to slip on his shoes. He grabbed his keys from a curved iron hook at the large double doors after he slipped on his jacket, laughing to himself as you eagerly skip ahead of him down the grand stone steps of the Manor and towards the car. The two of you could easily apparate just about anywhere in a matter of seconds, but Draco found he liked the experience of a road trip better. It was a way for him to clear his head when he found himself overwhelmed; that and it gave him more time alone with you. So he bought a car.

It wasn’t brand new or extravagantly fancy like one would expect from a Malfoy; it was a vintage Volkswagen Beetle. In all honesty, it hadn’t been his first choice and maybe not even his second or third. But you lit up immediately when you saw the little yellow car and he didn’t have it in him to get anything else. He found he’d do anything just to see you smile.

“Come on!” You call out, ducking into the car as he shakes his head with a chuckle.

He rushed to the drivers side before the rain could pelt on him too much, brushing the dampened hair away that stuck to his forehead.

“Have you always been this impatient?” He quips, laughing out when you swat his arm lightly in protest. His smile is nothing short of adoring as he leans across the center console, his fingers splayed over your cheek. “I’m only kidding, darling.”

His words are soft against your lips as he kisses you sweetly, reluctantly pulling away to start the car. However, his hand quickly finds yours as he drives down the stone path and away from the Manor, his soft smile never faltering as your fingers intertwine out of absentminded habit.

“Am I dressed too casually?” You ask, playing with his fingers as your enveloped hands sat in your lap.

“You look beautiful.”

You bite back your smile as you look ahead with a fluttering heart, and he sneaks a glance your way at the lack of response.

“What?” He asks.

“I’m starting to think you’ll always say that,” you sigh, looking at him with a raised brow.

“Because you always are,” he counters without second thought and you’ve got nothing else to say. He smiles triumphantly as a rosy blush stains your cheeks and you settle for playing with the ring on his finger instead, but not before turning on the radio.

A quiet laugh left your lips at his immediate grumbling, loathing the choice in music, he wasn’t too fond of ABBA and Fleetwood Mac just yet. But if it meant he’d gotten to hear your voice when you sing he’d listen to it everyday.

It was a concept that scared him a bit if he lingered on the thought for too long. From experiencing very little love at all to feeling an insurmountable desire for it was something new to him. Something he had been apprehensive to fully accept in fear that it’d slip from his fingers if he basked in it too much. He wasn’t used to things working in his favor after all. But you came into his life and turned his very world upside down in the best of ways, and he found it impossible not to give in to the love blossoming in his chest and taking over his entire being, nor did he want to.

But he still had his doubts, he still wondered how someone as truly magnificent as you could give your heart to a Malfoy. That simple fact still baffled him each and every time it crossed his mind, had you not realized? Regardless, he had intentions of loving you for as long as you’d let him.

You found yourself looking over at him with a smile after a little while, admiring the way waves of platinum hung over his forehead and brushed over his dark lashes. The way his thumb absentmindedly tapped at the steering wheel as he hummed softly along with the radio; he’d insisted he hated this song in particular but you knew that to be false. He looked nothing short of adorable as his gaze flickered around the little town you drove through, concentration etched into his expression.

“I’m aware of your staring, you know,” he says with a knowing smirk, looking over to confirm his suspicions. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re madly in love with me.”

Without hesitation, you leaned over and brought him close, pressing a kiss on his cheek and another to the freckle on his jaw. His smile was instant, the softest of blushes coloring his cheeks.

“Love, if you keep doing that I’m going to miss my turn,” he chuckles, glancing over to you.

You sigh as your thumb runs along his cheek softly and he tries his hardest not to flush any deeper than that. Though in a matter of moments, luck seemed to be on his side as the traffic light ahead turned from yellow to red. He pulled your hand from his face gently and leaned over, pressing his lips on yours in a tender kiss. He’d been dying to do so the very moment he pulled away from the Manor and he took advantage of the opportunity the second he was given one.

A horn soon blared behind him and with a startled glance his eyes land on a very green traffic light, but still he steals another quick peck before continuing on with the trip with a racing heart.

“Am I just too distracting?” You jest, sticking your hand out the window to feel the breeze now that the rain had subsided for now.

“You have no idea,” he chuckles softly as he smiles fondly at the road ahead.

—

Another twenty minutes had passed before Draco pulled into a smaller neighborhood, promptly telling you to close your eyes. You did so, but not without a dramatic sigh from you, and you missed the way a soft look of excitement had painted its way across his face.

A few turns were made before the car had come to a stop, Draco instructing you to stay put with a kiss to your cheek. He rushed around to the other side of the car eagerly, opening your door. With gentle actions he got you from the car and kicked the door shut behind him, snaking his arm around your waist.

“Don’t look yet, darling,” Draco urges, his hand over yours to ensure you weren’t peeking as he carefully guided you to wherever it was you had been. You playfully try and do the opposite of his words, laughing out when he squeezes you close.

He turns on his heel and steps in front of you to pull his hand away, allowing you to drop yours as he tucks your hair behind your ear.

“Ideally, I could have done without the rain, and maybe it could be a bit warmer too—” His words are quickly cut off by your protest, and he kisses your lips once more. He takes a breath as he looks at you for a few fleeting moments, stepping to the side.

A cottage stands before you, nestled comfortably amongst many others in the quiet neighborhood. You look at him with a puzzled expression, but he’s got a smile that won’t seem to go away.

It was obscenely beautiful, ivy tangling on every corner of the house, sticking to the gray stone slabs of its walls. The rooftop was slanted downward with dark slate colored shingles, a matching chimney on either side. Deep green shutters line each slightly fogged window and colorful flowers reached just under their windowsills. A beautifully aged wrought iron fence surrounded the perimeter, creaking rather noisily when opened. The door was hardwood, painted a matching green with a small arched window at the very top.

Clusters of wildflowers had dotted amongst the lush grass, and a blossoming tree stood on either side of the pathway, sending flower petals fluttering to the ground like rain.

It looked like a place taken right out of a fairytale.

“Why are we at someone’s house?”

He stands there timidly, his smile growing as rain droplets catch in his platinum hair.

“It’s not just someone’s house,” He laughs softly, scratching the back of his neck. The nerves swirl in his stomach as the words catch in his throat briefly. “It’s ours.”

Not completely, a few documents needed signing, but it was yours. It had been Madam Pomfrey’s home, but as of late she’d decided that a smaller residence much closer to Hogwarts would be far more manageable. Draco had been her first and only choice to offer her beloved home to, considering him to be an honorable young healer who made a concerted effort to turn his life around.

The generous offer was one Draco couldn’t object to, finding that another minute living within the Manor would surely be maddening. It wasn’t that the two of you had outgrown it in the six years you’d spent there after the war. He’s not sure if even the entire student body of Hogwarts could outgrow it, it was large and luxurious. But it wasn’t comfortable to reside in a place that held such undesirable memories, he felt as though it wasn’t allowing him to move on from that time in his life just half a decade prior.

His father had just over half his sentence left in Azkaban and he wouldn’t be coming home in the near future, but he wasn’t fond of running into him again. Draco felt being on opposite ends of the Manor was not enough distance, especially when his father had an unwavering distaste for the love of his life. He wanted a place where he could live freely, a place where he was able to kiss you and love you wherever he pleased. And this was it.

Your confusion had only grown in that very moment, your brows knitting together as you narrow your eyes curiously at him. You opened your mouth to speak, but weren’t exactly sure what to say as shock still had its hold on you.

Before you could find the words, Draco grabbed your hand, tugging you along the mossy cobblestone walkway. “Come on.”

He plucked a small silver key from under a flowerpot and stuck it in the lock, turning back to look at you with a sheepish grin before twisting the copper doorknob.

The moment he opened the door you were hit with the scent of cinnamon and sugar, the sweet air adding a certain warmth to the place. The cozy living room was furnished with an armchair in the far corner and you assumed it was intentionally placed by the window for reading, a yellow knit blanket strewn across the tattered leather. An aged brick fireplace was paces away from it, and a loveseat adorned the opposite wall with a worn flannel blanket draped over the arm. The walls were painted a beautiful sage green, wood beams stretching across the ceiling as a lamp or two lit up the room in a warm glow.

Your hand immediately slipped from his the moment your eyes landed on the bookshelf along the wall, nearly full of books that looked quite familiar. Too familiar not to notice.

“So this is where my books have disappeared to?”

The quiet laugh behind you was confirmation enough as you ran your fingers across the worn spines. A framed picture came into view, a picture of the two of you captured within it. When you turn to him with an amused expression and a raised brow his cheeks flush a pale pink as he shrugs his shoulders, scratching the back of his neck once more.

“I wanted to see how it’d look,” he defends, clearly flustered the more you linger on the subject.

You roll your eyes as you kiss his cheek, taking his hand again. “Alright, Malfoy, take me to the next room.”

The kitchen was noticeably different than the one at your current home. Instead of obsidian black cabinets, these were a light rusted color. Rather than a large mahogany kitchen table, there was a small circular one located just below a window. Small plants resided on the windowsill over the sink, teacups hanging by their handles on a set of brass hooks on the soft yellow wall. What was quite possibly the cutest part was the jade colored oven and it’s matching fridge. It was a delightfully vibrant contrast to the color palette of grays and charcoals and whites adorning the furniture at the Manor.

You were seconds away from tugging back the frilly cream curtains over the windows when Draco stopped you.

You gave him a curious look and he gave one back as he pulled you along to another hallway. With each and every room the two of you had looked at, the more anxious Draco had become. He hadn’t told you about it first, after all. He was starting to wonder if you’d even liked it, he was starting to wonder if you’d been mad that he went out and did this on his own without your input.

“Draco!”

He’s quickly pulled from his thoughts before he gets too tangled up in them, finding you running your hands over the navy blue velvet pillows of the window seat in your soon-to-be bedroom. The look on your face is nothing but one of excitement and joy, and it eases the tension in his body and the nerves bubbling in his stomach.

You’d been mentioning your desire for a window seat ever since sixth year when you sat along the grand windowsills of the castle. You insisted there was no better place to read than that, and he hadn’t forgotten. He certainly knew it’d be more comfortable to sit in when you inevitably fall asleep on his chest. He didn’t know how much more his body could take of slumping against cold stone when you fell asleep after hushed stories of classic novels had been abandoned in empty corridors. However, he couldn’t bring himself to wake you when you were so content.

“I knew you’d like it the moment I saw it,” he chuckles, bringing you close by a grip on your hands.

“You remembered,” you say softly, the tip of his nose brushing against yours as he laughs against your lips.

“How could I forget?” You respond with a sweet kiss, his hands squeezing yours gently before letting them go in favor of wrapping around your waist. His lips parted from yours to press chaste kisses to your nose, to your cheek, ever so tenderly to the underside of your jaw, and perhaps the softest to ghost over your neck. He has to stop himself before he becomes to distracted with you. “There’s one more suprise, darling.”

His words are whispered against your hair as he kisses your temple, and you’re quick to grab his hands. “What are we waiting for?”

You follow him down the curved staircase and once you reach the bottom he asks you to close your eyes once again. This time you do so without protest, his hand warm in yours as he pulls you outside. The chilly spring temperatures were a noticeable contrast to the warmth inside the cottage but you didn’t mind it very much.

“I thought you would like this the most,” he smiles, squeezing your hand before you open your eyes.

The sight before you was unlike any other you’d ever seen. Vibrant green grass served as pathways amongst the flowerbeds that curved around them. Dozens of meticulously placed floral bushes filled the space, neatly trimmed and well cared for. Wooden pergola’s with beautiful archways had stood between arrangements of fluffy hydrangeas, curls of vines snaking up its rain soaked beams to form a cluster of greenery and flowers atop it.

The gardens at Malfoy Manor seemed to have paled in comparison to this. It may not have been even half the size of Narcissa’s, but it held a different kind of beauty, one that cannot be put into words. Perhaps you deemed it better because it was your own. One that didn’t house memories of secret rendezvous’ in the late hours of the night to share hushed kisses behind moss-covered statues as teens. Staying up running hand in hand through rows of pristine red roses, sharing whispered ‘I love you’s’ under glowing moonlight and twinkling stars.

It was new and it was beautiful. It was yours.

New kisses could be shared with disregard for prying eyes, declarations of love could be shouted without repercussion. Draco could pluck as many flowers as he wanted to for you without being scolded by his mother for missing blossoms.

Utterly enchanted, you walk along the winding green paths, your fingertips brushing over soft flower petals as the light rain droplets collected across your cheeks. Draco was in tow, but found himself too enamored by you to put one foot in front of the other, deciding he was perfectly content with admiring you from afar.

The scent of flowers and rain flooded your senses with every step you took, and as if you weren’t already in love with this place, surely you were now.

You twirl once in the blooming garden, it’s flowers vibrant and thriving against the pale gray sky. It was when you stopped to stand still with a jovial laugh that your eyes landed on Draco. He stood there, hands by his sides as he looked at you with such fondness your heart fluttered in your chest and a soft shade of scarlet colored your cheeks.

You were quick to close any remaining gap between you, your arms wrapping around his neck as you lean on your toes and kiss him. He drops the keys he’d been holding as his hands settle on your rosy cheeks, and he steadies himself from your sudden embrace. Your fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck gingerly, a small laugh escaping your lips and breaking the kiss. But you weren’t quite finished, chasing after his lips for another soft peck.

“Does this mean you like it?” He asks softly, tracing his finger down the length of your neck and back again to rest under your chin.

Your smile was bright as you look up at him, your fingers trailing down his shoulders to play with the buttons of his coat. His pale blue eyes were full of hope as his thumb brushes over your jaw before dropping to your waist to pull you closer.

“I love it,” you murmur against his lips. His breath fanned across your own in an airy laugh, his forehead resting on yours only briefly. “You bought us a house!”

“Well, technically Madam Pomfrey—”

You put your finger over his lips with a laugh, effectively quieting him as a soft smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. He grabbed your wrist softly and pulled your hand away, sighing as you turn around to admire the sweet little home once more. His arms circle around your waist as you lean back against his chest, stifling a laugh when you feel the soft kisses he’s peppering across the crook of your neck.

It really was beautiful, down to every last detail one could possibly think of. It was almost unbelievable how a place so wonderful could exist, how it could be yours. But Draco had always been full of surprises, you learned that rather quickly.

In a matter of moments, the rain increased to a pace too hard to ignore and you gasp at the cold droplets hitting your skin. You were quick to grab his hand, rushing off to the nearest pergola for some form of shelter from it. The flower covered trellis only gave way to a few splashes but it didn’t seem to matter in that current moment.

Your laughter died down to an airy giggle, your hands resting on his chest. His cheeks were flushed from the brisk spring weather as he gazed down at you, his thumb tracing over your lip before his fingers swept over your cheek. He was completely obvious with his admiring, his eyes bouncing from the freckles on your cheeks—ones that could only be seen at such a proximity— to your very irresistible lips, and back to your eyes.

“Are you sure you like it?” Hesitancy has woven its way around his quiet words. It was a big commitment after all, and it wasn’t something he was accustomed to just yet, especially at twenty-four. But what weighed on his mind was the possibility that you would come to regret making such a choice—with him. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip as you pretended to ponder the question, but you couldn’t bring yourself to continue for a moment longer with the way he’d been looking at you. In a wordless response you press your lips on his softly, parting for only a moment before he pulls you closer for another. Any doubts he may have held had vanished from his mind your lips meld with his in a lingering kiss.

His cheeks are more flushed than before as you pull away to look at him, the sight of your kiss swollen lips making it hard to focus on anything else.

“Draco Malfoy, I’d go anywhere as long as I’m with you.”

—

Tags: @amourtentiaa

[tlcwrites]

Two Hearts Make a Whole

Prompt: “Kiss me again, like you mean it.” Photo prompt below.

Summary: NYC Pride is for celebration, and occasionally, long-overdue revelations.

Word Count: 2,001

Tags/Content warnings: Marvel. Stucky. If you have a problem with it, there's the door. SFW. Slight TFATWS spoilers so read at your own risk. Platonic Reader. Two idiots in love. Technically canon-divergent because I'm still in my everyone-is-alive-and-in-this-timeline happy place that I will never ever leave fuck you very much Russo brothers but not AU. Found family. All the feels. Complete and total LGBTQ+ support. Lots of bad language words because #me. Un-beta'd.

Author’s Note: Okay so yes this is technically 4 weeks late for @autumnleaves1991-blog's Writer Wednesday weekly challenge. BUT, it was incredibly important to me to finish this one before Pride month is over. Made it by the skin of my teeth.

Happy Pride, y’all. If you’re out, you’re amazing. If you’re closeted, you’re amazing. However you identify is valid and important. Trans folx are LGBTQ+. Bisexuals are LGBTQ+. Ace folx are LGBTQ+. Anyone who identifies or thinks they may be as queer is LGBTQ+. All are welcome in the family. You have the right to choose your pronouns and we have the responsibility to use them. Live whatever your truth looks like to you and love each other. Love is love is love is love. If your family doesn’t accept you for you, I’m your mom now and I’ve got mom hugs available on demand. Homophobes and TERFS can fuck off and roll in poison ivy. Always punch Nazis. Pride shouldn't be limited to the month of June. And don’t you dare forget that Black and Brown trans women were the ones who rioted at Stonewall, and we owe everything to their bravery. Don’t forget that much of popular ‘gay’ culture was appropriated from Black women. And for more facts about Pride that you should absolutely know, Rawiyah Tariq (@ mammyisdead on Instagram) has a phenomenally good overview.

“Oh my god.” You gasp loudly. "Oh my GOD. Is that-"

“What?!” Instantly in First Avenger Protective Mode™️, Steve surveys the crowd, wishing he had an actual shield instead of the screen printed one on his shirt. “What is it?”

You gasp again, smacking Sam’s arm repeatedly. “OHMYGOD IT IS HOLY FUCK.”

“First; ow.” Now-Cap rubs his bicep. “Second; clue in the class before Steve has an aneurysm, please.”

Vibrating with excitement doesn’t begin to describe your current state. “HER ROYAL HIGHNESS MISS LEMON MERINGUE IS STANDING RIGHT FUCKING THERE.”

With the finesse of a shampoo commercial, Bucky's dark locks fly as he whips around. “What?!”

“RIGHT THERE RIGHT THERE RIGHT THERE.” You abandon a relieved Sam and latch on to Bucky’s vibranium arm. “Oh my GOD I love her so fucking much.”

“She was robbed, absolutely fucking robbed,” he agrees, craning his neck to get a better view. “Divine Tension’s lip sync was shameful.”

Sam glances at Steve, who is slowly coming out of protector mode. “What the ever-loving hell are they talking about?”

“RuPaul’s Drag Race.” Nat flicks more confetti at both Cap-the-former and Cap-the-current. “They watch it every week.”

“Really, Steven, for a guy with enhanced super senses, you miss a lot.” Tony hefts a bedazzled Morgan higher on his back. The toddler, accompanied by Scott playing air-piano on the ground, sings along with the ABBA song being blasted at full volume through the street. Tony continues as if this is an everyday occurrence. “Why do you think both of your People disappear every Friday evening?”

Ears pink, Steve mumbles something.

“What?!” The only other one with hearing enhanced enough to hear a murmur over the cacophony of several thousand people belting out the chorus of ‘Dancing Queen’ at the top of their lungs, Bucky turns to stare at his friend. “You thought we were datin’?”

Steve’s blush extends down his neck.

You and Bucky stare at each other for a moment before you both collapse on each other, exploding into stomach clenching, thigh slapping laughter.

“I’m gonna guess that’s a ‘no’?” Clint confirms with Nat.

“Oh, a big ‘no’.” She watches affectionately as you and Bucky calm down enough to look at each other, breathe for a second, and both promptly dissolve into hysterics once more. “Like, the biggest ‘no’.”

Sam crossed his arms across his chest, his stoic stance so reminiscent of Steve it’s amusing (as well as a beautiful disparity to the sequined crop top he’s sporting. Oof, those abs.). “How do I not know about this?”

“Because you’re not a former super spy?” The usually-Black-but-today-Rainbow Widow tosses the last of her confetti at Tony, who spins a jubilant Morgan into it. “Or because you and that leggy barista from the lobby coffee shop are too busy playing hide-the-“

“-Baby Shark!” Morgan suddenly shrieks, flailing towards a guy on roller blades wearing a fin and tail (and not much else).

“Yeah,” Nat finishes with a smirk, “Hide-the-Baby Shark.”

Sam flips her a gesture that makes Clint laugh and Bruce sigh.

You and Bucky have finally managed to pull yourselves together. “Oh my god, Steven Grant,” you gasp, wiping tears from your eyes. “That’s the funniest fucking shit I’ve ever fucking heard.”

“Language!”

Steve glares at Tony. “One. Time. It was one. Time.”

Bucky slings his flesh arm around Steve’s shoulders. “Oh, punk. You may have perfect vision now, but sometimes you’re still as blind as you were before.”

Visiortn himself nods sagely. “Humans can be quite unperceptive when it comes to matters of the heart.” Vision casts a fond smile at Wanda, who is using her powers to make Pietro’s tinsel wig fly on and off. “Sometimes you have to look harder to see what’s right in front of your nose.”

A confused frown on that handsome face, Captain Clueless looks at Bucky. “Why do I feel like everyone else knows something that I don’t?”

His bestie sighs deeply. “Because, Stevie, almost everyone else on this planet knows that my tastes tend towards tall, blonde, blue-eyed knuckleheads who have zero sense of self-preservation.”

“And an ass you could bounce a quarter off of,” Scott helpfully supplies.

“And that,” Bucky agrees.

Steve frowns.

You press your palms to your eyes in vexation. “You, Steve. He’s talking about you.” (Seriously, how has this idiot survived for over a century while being so dumb?)

Whatever he was expecting, it was certainly not that. “He-“ The Man With A Plan gapes as he turns to his oldest friend. “You-“

“Me,” Bucky says gently.

Even though you’re slightly surprised that Bucky is going to do this in such a public forum, you can’t help but be so proud of your friend. It has taken a long time for Bucky to believe he deserves to be happy. There are days he still sinks into that dark place, where his inner demons whisper that he should have fought harder against his Hydra captors, and that his past actions were still somehow his fault. Those are the days no amount of baking or Modern Marvels will bring him out of his funk. You, Steve, Sam, and Nat have all held those strong shoulders as they shook with sobs, overwhelmed by the shame and horror at what his hands had done without his consent.

But he’s here. He’s free. And he’s smiling nervously at his best friend.

“I-” Steve is short-circuiting. “Me?!”

“Stevie.” With the kind of tender patience that can only be born of a lifetime of keeping (or attempting to keep) an idiot such as one Steven Grant Rogers from flinging himself headlong into every fight he comes across, Bucky moves his flesh hand to the back of Steve’s neck. His face is full of such soft affection that you almost want to look away for fear of intruding on this suddenly intimate moment. “What do you think ‘til the end of the line’ means, you idiot? You’ve been it for me since I was thirteen-years-old.”

Blue eyes are locked with blue eyes as Steve processes this revelation. “I-” He shakes his head as if to declutter his thoughts. “This whole time?”

“Since the first time I saw that asshole knock you down, and your scrawny ass climbed right back up.” A wry chuckle escapes as Bucky reminices. “You were ninety pounds soaking wet, and you stood there, against a guy who was three times your size, and never waivered for a second. It was magnificent.”

“I don’t like bullies,” is Steve’s quiet response.

Bucky’s grin is adoring. “I know, sweetheart.” He gently strokes the back of Steve’s neck with his thumb. “You’ve always had a heart way bigger than your brain.”

Steve is still back on the first part of Bucky’s admission. “If you’ve felt- if you-” He’s practically pleading. “Why didn’t you say anything then?”

Bucky shrugs, attempting and failing nonchalance. “It was a different time, you know?” He’s uncharacteristically unsure of himself, the subtle waiver in his voice revealing the anxiety born of a lifetime of being forced to hide his truth. “I mean, you remember how it was; you didn’t talk about, no one talked about- about being- about people like...” He swallows thickly.  “And I was so scared you didn’t, that you weren’t-” His voice breaks.

Even though you’ve all been emotionally invested in this love story for years, the entire team respectfully pretends not to listen as the former Winter Soldier quietly admits his deepest secret to his closest friend. It’s enraging as Bucky confesses yet another way he's been a victim of his circumstances, and denied his right to live freely without derision. Once more, you’re awed by his resilience.

“-it was a risk I couldn’t take,” Bucky finally gets out, that stubborn fire back in his eyes. “I couldn’t lose you, Steve. I couldn’t chance it. I could live with just being your friend and only your friend so long it meant you were in my life.”

Stunned silence meets the end of his confession. Steve’s face is impassive, those cerulean eyes uncharacteristically inscrutable.

You can all tell Bucky is heading steadily towards dread and heartbreak the longer Steve takes to respond. You and Sam exchange a look, both ready to intervene if Steve demonstrates any of the abhorrent attitudes that were so prevalent in the society of his youth. It would be completely out of character for him, but...

Finally, Steve speaks. “You’re telling me,” he says, his words slow and deliberate, “that you made me wait ninety-three years to tell me you’ve felt the same way about me as I have about you since the day you picked me up out of that alley?!”

The whole found family breaths a collective sigh of relief as Steve pulls Bucky even closer, broad chest to broad chest.

“Okay, to be fair, you were an ice cube for most of that time and I wasn’t exactly available for a relationship.” Bucky’s grin stands in contradiction to his mullish defense. “But yeah, that’s the gist of it.” There’s the Bucky you all know and love, biting his lip with those perfect white teeth. “Now, punk, I’d really like to kiss you now, but first I need you to say you want me to.”

“You-” Steve’s throat works as he attempts- and fails- to rein in his emotions. “You jerk.”

And then the Star Spangled Man seizes the president of the Sometimes-Former-Assassins Club by his ridiculously perfect face and crashes their mouths together.

At any Pride event, seeing two men kissing is, obviously, to be expected. But seeing The First Avenger and The White Wolf attempting to swallow each other’s tongues is not at all routine. As people realize what is happening, the crowd is whipped into a frenzy the likes of which is usually reserved for the aftermath of sporting events and elections that defeat fascists.

Watching the two men embrace, Scott sniffles loudly. “I’m gonna cry, I’m so happy.”

He’s certainly not the only one. Wanda has a watery smile as she wraps her arms around Vision and Pietro; Pepper, Tony, and Bruce are watching with fond parental energy; you and Sam sandwich Peter between the two of you, grins practically splitting your faces. Even Nat’s eyes look suspiciously shiny and she and Clint sling their arms around each other with platonic affection. And that’s not counting the several thousand people who are cheering for love being love being love being love.

When they finally break their embrace, the Centennial twins are startled to see they’ve collected quite an audience.

“Uh, so…” Suddenly bashful, Steve glances back to his- partner? Boyfriend? Soulmate? Is there a word that can accurately describe two people who have found each other time and again in a world that seems hell-bent on keeping them apart?- his ears practically maroon with embarrassment. For a guy with one of the most-recognized faces in the world, Steve is still incredibly and endearingly uncomfortable with attention. “Buck?”

Bucky seems just as stunned as Steve.

Thankfully, the masses demonstrate the usual support that’s the hallmark of Pride. “LOVE IS LOVE!” someone screams in the crowd. It’s quickly echoed, and chants fill the park.

The attention momentarily off them, the former Winter Soldier and his giant himbo of a soulmate look back at each other. You pretend not to watch through the happiest tears as they embrace again, bringing their foreheads together. The relief they share is palpable, as they’re finally able to show the world- and each other- the love they’ve each hidden for so long.

Bucky’s voice is so soft you have to strain to hear it. “You have no idea how much m’in love with you, Stevie.”

“Pretty sure I do,” Steve answers, bringing a hand up to carefully wipe the tears from Bucky’s face. “‘cause it’s as much as I love you, Buck.”

Bucky's answering grin can only be described as saucy. “Then kiss me again, like you mean it.”

And Steve, for once in his long life, does exactly as ordered.

---

A/N: “The Sometimes-Former-Assassins Club” is from Starry_Emerald173’s BRILLIANT The Avengers Wrangler over on AO3. If you haven’t read it yet, drop what you’re doing and do so immediately. Make sure you're not drinking any liquids, or your keyboard/phone may be in peril.