#bet he has more underneath his trunks *coughs*

[rigb0ner]

ok highschool au where shiro is the captain of the football team and lance is on varsity swim and 1 day shiro leaves a big amount of hickies on lance’s collarbone and lance has to go to swim and he’s like oh fuck and gets embarrassed cause theyre so visible so next time he n shiro are making out he makes sure to leave them right on the side of his neck as revenge and shiro doesnt realize till it gets pointed out at practice and he’s just like “fuck you lance” and matt goes “well obviousley”

HEHEHEHEHEHE ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

[english8muffin]

Cozy winter

Summary: going to the market, being cheeky in the parking lot and a warm cuddly morning sprinkled with some funny-business

Warning: Cute banter, smut (NSFW), fluff

Word count: Around 5300 words!

I want to open this with one of my favorite quotes ever, so if you allow me ;)

“Go into the arts. I’m not kidding. The arts are not a way to make a living. They are a very human way of making life more bearable. Practicing art, no matter how well or badly, is a way to make your soul grow, for heaven’s sake. Sing in the shower. Dance to the radio. Tell stories. Write a poem to a friend, even a lousy poem. Do it as well as you possibly can. You will get an enormous reward. You will have created something.”  -Kurt Vonnegut 

“We need muffins.”

“We don’t NEED muffins, what we need are some fresh fruit and vegetables, ” Henry butts in. You frown and look up at him, “Oh whatever, Hen. You eat your greens, beans, potatoes and tomatoes, while I get fat by munching on some sweet, sweet, delicious chocolate muffins.”

 He sends you a smirk from across the aisle. It was always fun to do mundane things, like going to get coffee together or grocery shopping, when he was home from filming. The last year you went to university it was very hard to be away from him for such a long time, especially when you still lived in Europe. You would fly over to England once in a blue moon, when Henry was in London and your schedule would allow it. Other times your relationship existed out of phone and video calls. It was a rough period, if you have to be honest. But It made the two of you closer and your bond stronger. It’s true what they say, absence does make the heart grow fonder. 

You let Henry know you were going to get the ingredients for the muffins and start pushing the shopping cart in the direction of the baking supplies. As you walk back to the fresh produce section, you get distracted. So many colorful packaging was just screaming your name…

“What the- lovey! I thought you were going to get your muffin ingredients,” Henry cackles and almost doubles over seeing the now full shopping cart.

It took you a second to answer, a bit too focused on his beautiful face and the smile lines that appeared when he laughed. You quickly try to defend yourself, so he doesn’t think you have no self-control, even though, you know your eyes were bigger than your stomach.

“No! I did get them, they’re just underneath the other bags,” you trail off, eyes drifting to the floor. You sigh, “I just saw this aisle with all the snacks. These magnificent snacks. And, Hen, I’ve never wanted anything more in my whole life! And, Hen-Henry! Henry, listen! Stop laughing at me! It was a moment of weakness! You can’t judge me! You don’t even know how they taste, I promise you, you will understand once you take a bite of everything!”

Henry wipes away a small tear at the corner of his eye and kisses the top of your head. You stroll around the aisles, trying to work through the rest of your grocery list, but suddenly you stop dead in your tracks.

“Hen,” you say, trying to get his attention. He gives you a hum in return, letting you know he heard you, “why on god’s green earth does my grocery list say ‘sex’?” You tilt your head up to his face, seeing a bashful grin. 

You shake your head, clicking your tongue disapprovingly, “it isn’t even on top of the list! You put your oatmeal protein shake before sex, fuck, you even put curry before sex, you really need to get your priorities straight!”

After getting some more stuff, like pak choi, steak, tofu and the ingredients for Henry’s beloved curry you always make him, you walk to the register. 

The petite Asian lady gives you a smile and takes a little peak at Henry, who was too busy looking at the various Chinese cough drops that are displayed in front of the counter. Her brows rise behind her thick glasses, “哇，大帅哥。你很幸运啊。” (Wow, big handsome man. You are very lucky, ah.) She says, turning back to you and winking. You can’t help but chuckle. Grinning you send her an ‘I know’-look.

Hearing your laugh, Henry looks over his shoulder with a questioning look. But you just smile and shake your head.

You two quickly get everything in the reusable shopping bags you brought with you. It was getting late and more people were getting off of work and wanted to do some last-minute grocery shopping. Henry takes both of the flower printed bags and the two of you walk to the car. It was getting colder, your breath turning into puffs of smoke. You look up at the sky glooming over you. They promised snow tonight. 

Seeing Henry load the bags in the trunk, his ass proudly sticking out in the air, you give it a pinch. You just couldn’t resist. It was just there, so you better make use of the situation. 

Feeling your hand touch his behind, Henry turns around, an unamused look on his face.

“Excuse me, miss. But that is mine,” he says, really playing up his posh accent.  “I sure hope you disinfected those filthy little paws of yours.” He cutely scrunches his nose, doing a once over and trying so hard to keep himself from smiling, but failing miserably. He turns back around and arranges the bags in the booth so they won’t tip over.

There is a moment of silence, just the noise from cars driving up and off the parking. From the corner his eye Henry sees the stare you give him but ignores it with a small smirk.

“You know,” you begin with a cheeky undertone, making him curious, “I bet I could kick your ass,” you grin, looking at him and trying to gauge his reaction. 

“What was that, doll?”

“You heard me, big lad!”

“Oh really?” He asks and looks at you, towering over you like a brick wall. His eyes glimmering with mischief. Yeah, no, this was NOT a good idea. 

You squirm a little and a small nervous giggle leaves your lips.

“Yes, I can. Watch m-AHHHH! HENRY!” You squeal as he lifts you and throws you over his shoulder, fully forgetting you are in public. “Let me down, you caveman!” You laugh, slapping his left ass cheek. But he ignores your plea and just slaps your ass in return. 

Wiggling a little, you challenge him, “Beat me up! Come on, do it!” 

He turns his head and playfully bites the exposed skin by your hip, making you shriek like a little kid. 

Henry lets out a loud belly laugh and puts you back on your feet. As soon as the tips of your Dr. Martens touch the pavement, you get pushed against the car. Trapping you between the icy cold black metal and his warm body. His arm goes around your waist and pulls you closer to his front.

“I love you.” The words are hushed but you hear them loud and clear, making a shiver go down your spine. The both of you look at each other, completely enamored and grinning like idiots. Noses and the apples of your cheeks rosy, bitten from the cold.

“I love you too,” you whisper back. His hand glides inside your coat and underneath the thick knitted jumper you finished to other day. He just needed to feel you. You lean up a little and gently push your lips to his, adoring the familiar warmth that fell over you whenever you’d kiss. Before you can come in for a second smooch, he frowns at you. 

“Thought you were going to beat my ass?” He mocks, trying to imitate your accent. 

Lightly tapping your finger against your chin, you pretend to be in thought. 

“Well, this is much more fun.”

“Hmm, agreed,” he grins, already eyeing your red swollen lips and tilting his head towards yours. 

You hear heavy footsteps coming closer, the wooden floorboards slightly creaking under the weight. It was getting dark outside, the overhead lights in the kitchen casting a homey hue down on the oak countertops. Your ‘cooking playlist’ was filling the room with some gentle tunes. You also had a ‘dancing in the kitchen playlist’ but that one was mostly used in the mornings. You hum along to the melody when stirring in the stew you were preparing for the evening, rocking your hips side to side. The stew was softly bubbling away, spreading an amazing aroma around the house. 

The footsteps stop behind you. A moment later two big, sweater wrapped arms envelop around you, delicately caressing you. Henry lovingly pulls your loose braid to the side and places his head onto your shoulder, trying to get a peak at what was in front of you on the stove. 

“What smells so good in here?” Just then Henry’s stomach makes a loud grumbling noise from the mouthwatering smell going on in the kitchen, you chuckle. 

He had been gaming before this, you could hear the tiredness in his voice, it was a bit lower and more hoarse than normal. Whenever he was tired like this, he’d just turn into your big cuddly bear, you loved it. 

Dinner was almost done. You made one of the dishes your grandma used to make for you when you were younger. You won’t lie, it was pretty difficult at first to decipher the little recipe she send you in the post, but now you knew it by heart. 

“Cantonese style braised beef stew with white radish, bean curd sheets and a side of rice,” you inform him and brush your hand over his, that was placed on your stomach. Hearing that, he has to make sure he’s not drooling.

“And for dessert…” You nod your head toward the piping hot apple crumble pie currently cooling on the kitchen island. “We still have some vanilla ice cream if you want to have that with your pie. I know you want to be healthy, but I just really wanted to make a pie and this one does have filling,” you ramble, joking on the last part about the filling. He probably thought you were pestering him with his diet that most likely didn’t allow him to eat it. 

You wince a bit, feeling him tense against you. “You don’t have to eat it, my love, promise!”

“No petal, you’re just… you’re just so perfect,” Henry admits, pressing a kiss just below the strap of the pistachio green apron you were wearing, nuzzling his nose in your tousled hair.

It was a gloomy Saturday morning in London. If your alarm hadn’t gone off, you wouldn’t have known it was morning already.

Yesterday after dinner, the two of you cuddled up on the sofa, under a warm blanket with Kal snuggled up on your lap. His head resting in your lap, while his tail occasionally slapped Henry in the face, making you burst out laughing and Henry almost choke on the fur. The akita would fondly press his snout deeper against you, really loving the head scratches he was receiving. Both you and Henry were fully satisfied with the tasty dinner you had paired with a glass of wine and were now cheekily flirting with each other while watching a detective movie, of which you missed the plot because you were, well, differently occupied…

Now the bedroom held a calm, soft aura, a dim light streaming in through the linen curtains. You let out a little whimper, not wanting to leave the bubble you are in and stretch out your limbs. A bit sore from sleeping in a weird angle, amongst other things. Behind you, you hear a small sound of protest and before you know it, you are engulfed by a strong arm. Henry hides his face in the side of your neck, keeping his eyes closed, groaning, clearly displeased with the fact it was morning already. 

You smile, this was your favorite kind of morning. Warm and cozy in bed, cuddling with your boyfriend. You turn around, careful to not let any cold air under the duvet, your arm going around the large form beside you and curling your fingers in the mess of curly hair. Henry moaned, burying his face lower, between your breasts. Now fully content and still a bit dazed by sleep, he lets out the most awful snore. Even though he sounded like a drowning goat when he snored, you couldn’t do anything other than coo and gently scratch your fingers on his scalp, lovingly gazing at the man beside you. 

“Are we going to be lazy couch potatoes today?” You chuckle, placing a kiss on his forehead, wild curls tickling your nose as you do so. Your voice was still a little raspy, but Kal apparently still heard you, and pushed open the door to come snuggle in bed with his favorite humans. 

“What time is it?” Henry groans. 

“Around 8.”

“We can be busy bees if you want,” Henry whispered against the swell of your breast, peppering delicate kisses on the bare skin. “Or better yet, busy bunnies.”

Kal was now situated on the end of the bed, head on his paws while the serenity of the room made him doze off. His dad on the other hand was now slowly waking up, as his hand crept lower and lower over your body. You giggled and pushed his hand away.

“There is a child present ,” you motion towards a sleeping Kal, who lays stretched out on the feathery duvet, already heading off to dreamland looking content as ever. Henry lifts his head, peering at his buddy and snorts, “he’s seen much worse, haven’t you bear?” But he doesn’t get acknowledged. 

Laying his head back, he reaches up to push your hair out of your face before grabbing your cheek and pulling you down for a kiss. He places three kisses on your swollen lips, lightly sucking on the bottom one.

“May-,” you try to say something, but he just pushes his mouth harder against yours. Quickly taking the opportunity to stop you from making excuses. A hoarse chuckle rumbles from his chest, as he wraps you in his arms.

“Stop talking, woman, and kiss me back.” You let out a small moan and grip the curls you were playing with moments ago. He deepens the kiss slightly, tongue invading your mouth, surprising you. A subdued hum escapes your mouth, resulting in him grabbing the back of your neck, as the other rests on your hip. The kiss gets deeper and more passionate as the minutes go by. Getting a bit overwhelmed you pull back slowly, softy panting. 

“Hmm, so sweet, darling,” he says smugly, earning a little smack to the chest as a bright blush covers your cheeks. Like it wasn’t already hard enough to resist him and stay in the warm bed all morning, he does this. Henry rolls your naked body over so you’re straddling him, a large hand wraps itself around your hair. He tugs, not too hard though, so he has more access to shower open mouthed kisses on your neck and chest. Leaving you a breathless mess on top of him. His hands trail from the top of your back to your rear, squeezing your cheeks before giving them a fast slap, making you take in a breath. 

From all the shuffling, little snickers and kissing noises, Kal woke up and groaned, irritated that his humans couldn’t just hanky-panky somewhere else. With a last disapproving look, he jumps off the bed, landing with a thump. From the sound of paws hitting the wooden floor and toddling down the stairs, you look over your shoulder, duvet falling down so you sat there fully naked, much to Henry’s delight. 

Then you felt it. It was normal for Henry to get hard in the morning. To be honest, he would be a bit worried if his cock wasn’t hard first thing when waking up.

Involuntarily you grind down, drawing a heavy moan from deep in his chest. Holding intense eye contact with him, you start humping over his bare front, mewling like a kitten in heat. It was embarrassing how he had you wrapped around his finger. A cheeky smile formed on his face, “look who came around.” Your body was practically begging for sex. 

Pouting, you keep on moving your hips in a tantalizing slow rhythm, scratching at his hairy chest. Making sure you kept your eyes on his, he licked his three middle fingers and a second later you feel him reaching between your thighs, wiping his fingers down your slit. Tensing up a little, you try to hold back a grunt at the sensation. 

“Oh darling,” he started, his voice going an octave lower, “what a mess you’ve made.”

He pulls back and observes your reaction when he pops his finger in his mouth.

“Wet and sweet, like always.”

“You are so nasty,” you whisper in total awe at what he manages to do to your body. He snickers and you quickly grab his hand, pushing it back between your thighs, “I didn’t tell you to stop, though.”

Your jaw goes slack, the moment you feel his thick fingers moving in and out of you. He was hitting just the right spot, making you groan and throw your head back. He felt like he couldn’t hold back anymore, he quickly flips you over so he’s on top of you, fully trapping you underneath his body and smashes his mouth on yours. Everything was happening so fast that you couldn’t pay attention to every incredible thing he was making you feel. Taking his cock in hand, he rubs his shaft against you, up and down, pressing it so you could feel the length. You look up at him, veins bulging in his neck, eyes dark, face already becoming flushed. God, he was so sexy. Grabbing your legs, he pushes your knees back so you were completely spread open and at his mercy. 

He curses under his breath and lines himself up with you sticky center. Stifling your moans and pants, by pressing his lips to yours, when he slowly sinks his thick cock inside. 

“Oh my god,” you whine, feeling him stretching your walls apart, pushing himself deeper and deeper. 

“Y’feel so warm and tight, my love. M’so hard it hurts.” Henry whines against your lips, lacing his fingers in between yours. He trails kisses in your neck and under your ear, trying to get as close to you as possible. He loved feeling your body against his. Your walls were so plushy and wet for his cock, he wanted to stay buried in you forever. 

“M’gonna make you feel so good, darling,” he whispers in your ear. You whine softly, getting worked up, “please.”

He smirked, obviously liking your plea. 

Instead of giving you a nice, hard pounding, Henry wanted to go slow. It was still very early in the morning, the both of you still barely awake and he wanted to savor this moment with you.

“Oh, Hen-,” you pant softly, loving every bit of it. As he pushes deeper into you, you can feel his entire weight pressing down against you. The weight comforted you in a sense, like others would with a weighted blanket. He prolonged his strokes, making sure that when he slid out you could feel every centimeter of him, but then slid back in quickly. 

“Fuck.” He grumbles into your neck, “feels so good, love,” he praises, nibbling on the skin under your ear, grabbing a handful of your hair pulling it back. You move you hands from his grasp and push them up his broad shoulders, pulling him closer to you.

“So good,” you moan out to him, feeling his cock nudge at the extremely sensitive spot deep inside your core. He lifts his head to look at you, seeing your mouth formed into the letter ‘o’, head tilted back into the cloud-like pillow and eyes screwed shut. A string of desperate moans falls from your lips. 

This was what he loved, seeing his love, his girl react to the way he was pleasuring her. Just looking at you in this state made his orgasm coil up in the pit of his tummy. He never would have dreamed that another person could give him this feeling, the feeling of utter bliss when you were together. The unconditional love he felt for you was indescribable. 

Henry continues to thrust into you and attaches his lips to yours, feeling you squeeze around him. You manage to spread your legs even wider and wrap them securely around his slim waist, digging your heels just above the globes of his perfectly sculpted ass. 

He was aiming his stokes into the deepest part of you and you felt yourself getting closer and closer to your release. 

“Fuck,” you whimper out to him, digging your nails into the skin of his back. He knew you were about to cum. You let out another loud moan. 

“Come on, petal. Cum f’me,” he pants, trying to coax you. Hearing the almost desperate tone in his voice, combined with the sound of him slapping his hips to yours and the feeling of his cock moving in and out of you was becoming overwhelming. 

“Oh my god!” A loud moan ripples through you, the feeling of your release coming near. 

“Almost, my love,” he moans, speeding up the pace of his thrust. He inhales sharply, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulls you up, quickly pounding into you. Completely losing control, trying to get deeper as if that was possible and lets his forehead rest against yours. With one last push of his hips, you get to your breaking point and cum, screaming. Henry feels your walls clamp around him and let’s go, fully satisfied. The noise he made was an orgasm on its own. He keeps himself against you when he lets go inside of you. You could feel Henry’s cum filling you as you slowly come down from your high. You feel his cum dripping out of you, almost proud of what you made him do. 

He is about to roll off of you to cuddle up beside you, but you stop him by tightening your legs around him. “Please stay like this,” you whisper, your brain still a bit muddled by the amazing orgasm you just had seconds ago. He smiles down at you.

“Don’t be a silly goose,” he kisses your nose, “I would crush you,” Henry says endeared with a cheeky grin and pulls you into his side. You feel warm and safe. You yawn, blinking away when your eyes become watery.

“I can’t move,” biting your bottom lip, you snuggle closer to him, “and my throat hurts like hell.”

Henry lowers his hand to your ass and gives it a firm squeeze, “I’m not surprised. Oh doll, the sounds you were making,” he bites his bottom lip, closing his eyes. 

You laugh and roll your eyes. Henry nipped at your neck, making you erupt into a fit giggles. He chuckles, leaving a kiss on the spot he had just bitten. 

Henry trails his hands up and down your back. You closed your eyes and tangle your leg in between his, really liking the feeling. His chest was heavenly and just being in his arms felt amazing. He almost lulled you back to sleep the moment he began to run his fingers through your hair. 

“That good, huh? Almost fucked you back to sleep,” he chuckles. 

“It was alright, I guess,” you tease him. He raises his eyebrows, eyes twinkling with joy. 

“How would you rate the experience?” 

Tilting your head to look up at him, “Hmm, ten I guess.”

He looked very pleased with that.

“Out of twenty,” you finish. 

“OUT OF TWENTY?” He sobered up, staring at your face with a shocked expression. 

You snicker, climbing into his lap, “No, honey, I was just joking, I’m sorry.” A big pout forming on your face, making you look oh so innocent. 

“If you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to put you up on all fours and take you like that, don’t tempt me,” he says, shaking his head. Wiggling your brows you grin and kiss the dimple on his chin. 

“As much as I would enjoy that, I think Kal has to go potty and we have to eat.”

After some hushed pillow talk and hoarse giggles between the silky sheets, you two decide to move downstairs and start making some fresh coffee. When you lift your body out of the bed, a light throbbing shoots between your legs. You almost fall back into the mattress, making Henry roar with laughter. You end up getting a piggy back ride down the stairs, only wearing a v-neck shirt from Henry that fell just below the curve of your ass and showed plenty of cleavage. Your lilac panties were fully on display and your almost black hair looked like a lion’s main on top of your head, but you didn’t care. 

The both of you were still in that bubbly, fulfilled state of mind, looking like two drugged out kids, wearing blissful smiles. When you got to the kitchen, Kal bounded around the corner, coming from the sitting area, his tail wildly sweeping through the air. Eyes sparkling with happiness when he saw his parents finally had left the bed. 

“早上，宝宝” (morning, baby) You greet him, still on Henry’s back. Kal gives you a high “woof” as to say good morning back. After living with Henry and Kal for around eight months now, the akita started to pick up on a few Chinese phrases. He even decided the pet name ‘宝宝’ (bao bao), which means baby or darling, was only to be applied on him and nobody else. 

Every time you would video call with your Chinese speaking friends, and they talked about or to their children, Kal would cheerfully patter over, thinking they were cooing at him instead of the small infant in the background. But you thought it was the sweetest thing ever, he was your little fur baby after all. 

“I’m going to make us some omelets, is that alright with you, darling,” Henry asked, already opening the fridge and looking for the carton of eggs.

“Yeah, ‘course,” you call out to him. You give Kal his breakfast and receive many, wet kisses in return. Shuffling back over to your boyfriend, you lean against the dark green counter with its wooden countertops, and look at him carefully chopping up some bell peppers and onion, only wearing his joggers and a tank top. You were a lucky girl, and you knew it. Henry sends you a grin and winks before turning back to cutting the vegetables.

You begin to brew some fresh coffee for Henry, and put on the kettle for your morning tea. While he was finishing up breakfast, you start to read the newspaper to him. He absolutely adored it when you’d read to him, due to your accent becoming more noticeable. Kal came over to you, stuffing his wet nose against the hand you held out to him. “You’re such a good boy, Kal. Yes, you are,” you tell him in a baby voice, “you’re my little angel aren’t you? 我的小天使” 

You clean the table, after eating your breakfast and get ready for the day. Henry was already out to go on a walk with Kal. It did indeed snow last night and everything outside was hidden underneath a thin sheet of white snow, so you made sure Henry was wrapped up in a thick scarf you made him and a black beanie. After giving you a kiss as if he was off to fight in a war, he and Kal happily walked through the front door, into the freezing cold. Him whistling and Kal buzzing with excitement. 

Brushing your teeth and doing your makeup, you dance through the bathroom, in a good mood. You grab your phone that was propped up against the mirror, planning to put on the podcast you had been enjoying lately. You freeze seeing all the notifications, not having heard your phone due to it being on ‘quiet’. You swallow.

Oh shit.

There you were, plastered on the internet for everyone to see and laugh at. You and Henry making out on the parking lot of the Chinese supermarket. Was he going to be angry with you? It was your fault for teasing him after all. Oh no no no…

‘Henry Cavill and girlfriend were spotted having a steamy make out session outside local grocery store’

The headline read, making your face as red as a tomato. Trying to fight against it, you couldn’t hold yourself from reading the next paragraph. 

Being in the middle of winter, doesn’t stop these two lovebirds from having a heated make out session in a parking lot!

Yesterday early in the evening, Witcher-superstar Henry Cavill was spotted with (to some) much younger girlfriend, designer, Y/N Y/L/N. The two have  recently confirmed their relationship with an Instagram post from Cavill, showing a candid of Y/N, with the short caption ‘My sunshine enjoying the sun shine’. Last month Vogue came out with a video featuring Y/L/N in which Cavill and his dog Kal made an appearance, making fans go wild. It seems like the two really are living the life and we are excited to see more of them together!

Want to know more about the stars? Subscribe to STAR NEWS! 

This was it. You could already hear your sweet grandma, praying to the ancestors to forgive you for your sins, lighting all the incense she could find. You were a disgrace to the family now. It wasn’t that you were ashamed or felt bad about doing it, hell, everybody in the position would gladly sit on Henry’s shoulders and stick their tongue down his throat. You were just disappointed you got caught.

From downstairs you hear the door close with a loud thump and the pitter-patter from Kal’s nails on the hardwood floor, letting you know your two boys were back home. You nervously descend the flight of stairs, holding your head low and tightly clutching your phone in hand. 

“Hey, lovey! you really missed something, Kal and I could practically ice skate over the walking trails, it was so much fun!” Henry says enthusiastically as he hears you wander into the living room. You ignore him and plop down on the couch.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, not meeting his eyes. 

A frown makes its way onto his face. 

“What are you sorry for, sweet girl?” His eyes hold a concerned look, not understanding what you were talking about. You huff out a breath and hand him your phone so he could see the article. 

A roaring laugh sounds through the open space, making your head shoot up. “Yeah, I saw it this morning when I went and checked my Instagram,” he chuckles, face still rosy from going outside. 

“We really gave the paparazzi a field day, didn’t we?” He continues.

“Your ass looks great in this pic, though. Look,” pointing to the one were he had you lifted over his shoulder, but softens his voice when he sees how tense you were. 

“Aw, doll, loosen up, I’m not mad or anything, if that’s what you think. I’m rather pleased now that everybody can see how happy we are and how much joy you bring me,” he lets you know nonchalantly, pressing a smooch to your forehead and starts to march towards the kitchen.

“You want another cuppa, lovey?”

And just like that, you were back in your good mood, perplexed at how well he took all of this. 

Don’t be a silent reader! Show some love by reblogging and commenting, did it make you laugh, scream, smile? Let me know, it would make my day!

Much love, Nahmi xxx

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[thora-jane]

Twin-Way Mirror (Pt iv)

Series Summary: You've been friends with the Weasley twins since your first train to Hogwarts, but as the three of you start your 6th year, you start to question if your feelings go beyond friendship.

Summary for Pt 4: You begin to feel something is truly off about the twins as you all start to get ready for the world cup

Warnings: gets the slightest bit spicy, someone briefly isn't wearing a shirt but nothing happens lol

Word count: 2,637

female!reader, 2nd person POV

(a/n): We're back to Twin-Way Mirror BUT! I'm still taking requests! I think it'd be awesome to make some stories any of you want to see! Don't be nervous to reach out and send me an ask! Please!!!! I sit in the college cafeteria every morning for hours needing something to do!!!!! Love you all and hope you have a ~magical~ day <3

***

“(Y/n)! (y/n), get up!” Hermione whispered, shaking your shoulders lightly, “We need to get ready to go, could you wake up the twins? I need to get the other boys.”

You nodded, eyes not fully open as you sat up in bed and stretched. By the time you had rubbed the sleep out of your eyes and looked around, Hermione was already gone. Crawling out of bed, you looked over at the twins. Both of them were still fast asleep, and you tried to recall exactly how heavy of sleepers they were.

“C’mon, fellas, we gotta get moving,” You mumbled, nudging the one nearest to you. When there was no response, you sighed. Sitting down on their bed next to them, you leaned over and tucked his hair behind his ear. Freckles. Taking a deep breath, you placed your lips next to his ear. Without whispering, you woke him up, “Oi, Georgie Porgie. Get up, we need to go soon.”

You felt his leg kick out with a start as he bolted upright, his eyes snapping open and looking around before he saw you. You tried to hold back a smile but failed, and with an exasperated groan he grabbed your shoulders and yanked you over to him. You let out a little yelp as he wrapped his arms around you and yawned.

“How dare you,” he paused, squeezing you as he stretched out his legs, “waking me up in such a violent manner! Do you not care about my beauty sleep? It takes a lot of work to be the better looking one!” this got you to laugh, but not long after that a pillow came flying towards your face. George ducked, turning the two of you to shield you from the impact, “Careful love, I think we’ve awakened the savage beast,” He winked down at you before getting hit with another pillow.

“Savage beast? Speak for yourself Georgie. (y/n), where’s my good morning kiss? I dare say I feel a bit cheated,” Fred pouted. You wriggled out from George’s arms and threw a pillow back at Fred before walking to your trunk and taking out some clothes.

“Bold of you to assume George would even get a ‘good morning kiss.’ And if the two of you don’t get up you’re not going to get a good morning, period. Now c’mon, Hermione said we’d be leaving soon,” You picked up the pillow from your cot and threw it so it hit one of them, then ran out of the room before either had the chance to reciprocate your actions.

You changed as quickly as you could and combed your hair. You knew you didn’t have a whole lot of time to spend in the bathroom with a house full of people, but as you splashed your face and let the cold water drip off your nose, you started mulling over everything that had happened since you got here: Being carried into the house, Fred and George’s jokes about the handsomer twin, the moments where you’d make one of them go quiet, not to mention Fred kissing your forehead last night. It was all rather odd, really. You wondered if Hermione or Angelina would have anything to say about it. After drying off your face and deciding that talking to the girls about it wouldn’t hurt, you left the bathroom and headed back to put your pajamas back in your trunk. Apparently you were too used to having a room to yourself, as you opened the door without knocking.

That was a mistake.

“Bloody hell, (y/n)!” you heard one of them exclaim before you slammed the door and clamped your eyes shut. You weren’t sure which twin was still in their room, but whichever it was, they hadn’t exactly finished changing their shirt. A second later the door swung open again and you did everything in your power to not look up at them again.

“Sorry! I’m so sorry,” You winced, trying to duck below their arm and get through the doorway without touching them. He only laughed, and turned to watch you tip-toe through the bedroom out of embarrassment. Walking back towards the door and staring at your feet (either out of embarrassment or fear that he’d see your face turning as red as his hair) you had nearly made it out before he stuck out his arm to block you.

“I’m so sorry, I really am,” you stammered out again, still trying to avoid his gaze, “I forgot to knock and I thought you two had gone downstairs and-”

He only chuckled to himself, “It’s alright, (y/n), nothing that hasn’t happened before, and certainly not something that won’t ever happen again, right?”

At this you looked up, utterly confused, “I’m sorry, what?” you caught a glimpse of his jumper, green with a large letter ‘G’ knitted into the front.

“Oh, uh…” he paused, scratching the back of his head, “I only mean that...I’ve been walked in on before and...It’s bound to happen again and...well better me putting my shirt on than something else, right?” he offered a laugh, but after hearing his words leave his mouth it came out more like a wince.

After some hesitation you gave a weak smile, then nodded, “Right, yeah,” he coughed, and you looked down at your feet before pointing out to the hallway, “Let’s get going, then.”

***

The seven of you left the burrow just as the sun had started to rise, George and Fred had been walking with the other boys, passionately talking about who would win the quidditch match and debating what bets to place on which team. Meanwhile, you lagged behind with Hermione and Ginny. When you were sure the twins couldn’t hear you, you leaned over to Hermione and whispered.

“Have you noticed anything different about them lately?” you nodded to the gang of boys ahead of you.

“Well...Harry did mention having a bad dream last night. And he woke up with his scar hurting. We’re not sure what it is but-”

“No I uh...I meant the twins,” You interrupted, shoving your hands in your pockets as you watched them walking ahead of you. Merlin, they had gotten taller, they were practically twice as tall as Ginny and had to walk with their heads ducked so they wouldn’t be hit by any passing branches. One of them (George, you could see the top of the ‘G’ on his jumper from underneath his jacket) was walking backwards. He caught on that you were watching him, and his face lit up before he stuck out his tongue. You waved back, but quickly turned back to Hermione, “Something just seems a little different.”

“Well they’re much taller than the end of last term, and I suppose their hair has gotten a bit longer since the last time you three would have seen each other,” she thought aloud.

“I’m well aware of that,” you said, tucking your hair behind your ear in hopes that your hand shielded any blush on your face.

“And they are quite excited about the match today, if that means anything,” she added, tilting her head, “But other than that I haven’t really been paying much attention. Why do you ask?” she turned to you, curiosity in her voice.

“They talked about you practically all summer,” Ginny butted in, “Every other thing they said was (y/n) this and (y/n) that,” She stood up as tall as she could and tried to copy their voice to the best of her ability, “Blimey, Freddie, I sure wish (y/n) was here. You know she would appreciate our refined taste. Oi Ron, (y/n) wrote to you, the least you could do is say hi back to her! Look everyone, (y/n) sent me a letter! (Y/n) sent me a letter! Did Eros stop by, mum?” she sighed, shaking her head, “You’d think you were the only person in the world! No offense, of course. They spoke about you like you were some great celebrity.”

“Did they really?” You asked, rather puzzled as you looked back up towards the twins. George turned around again and gave you an exaggerated wave, with Fred following suit.

Ginny picked up her pace to catch up with the others, but before Hermione could do the same, you grabbed her hand, “I walked in on George this morning.” You almost blurted out.

“What?” she asked, rather shocked. You shushed her before she had the chance to say anything louder and draw attention.

“It’s not like I did it on purpose” you said in your defense, “I just opened the door and he wasn’t wearing-”

“I don’t want to know!” she interrupted in a harsh whisper, but after a moment she asked quickly, “What happened after that?”

“I slammed the door shut and probably turned as red as a tomato. Then when I went back in he sort of awkwardly made a joke about it, but he didn’t seem too bothered? He just wasn’t wearing a shirt, so it could have been way more...you know…awkward.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, “Well that’s for sure. (y/n), I haven’t the slightest idea what to tell you. You know George better than I do and by the looks of it, he doesn’t seem to be the least bit bothered,” She started to pick up the pace of her walk to catch up with the rest of the group, and you did the same.

“Hurry up kids, we’re nearly there!” Mr. Weasely called out over his shoulder as he ducked under another branch, “Ah, Amos!”

A man who you assumed was Amos Diggory smiled and loudly greeted Mr. Weasley, the two of them talked and exchanged a brief conversation about the weather before you heard Mr. Weasley ask, “Where is your son? Cedric, right?”

Cedric. That’s where you had heard the name Diggory before. Griffyndors and Hufflepuffs shared a potions class last year, and the two of you had been assigned as partners. He was a rather nice boy, and although the two of you didn’t exactly become best friends, you always waved to each other when he passed you in the hallways.

After making his grand entrance of jumping down from a tree, he greeted everyone with a simple nod. It was then that you caught his eye and he jogged over to walk beside you.

“(y/n), I didn’t expect to see you here. What a pleasant surprise if you don’t mind my saying so,” he smiled, and you could have sworn you saw Hermione and Ginny give each other a look out of the corner of your eye.

You nodded, “Yeah, the Weasleys were nice enough to invite Harry and I. How has your summer been, Cedric?” You looked over at him, trying to ignore the twins entering a small shoving match a few feet away.

“Oh it was quite nice, and you?” Cedric was always so polite, and that had proved helpful in potions with Professor Snape. The class was by default unbearable; the cold and dark and dank dungeon, Professor Snape’s face always glaring down at you over your shoulder, his comments on your insufferable eagerness to learn magic, on most days having Cedric as your partner was what made the actual class time worthwhile.

“Ah yes, the dynamic potions-brewing duo reunited once again.” Fred interrupted, slinging his arms over you and Cedric’s shoulders, startling both of you.

“It’s nice to see you too, George,” Cedric smiled, looking rather ruffled by the surprise.

“That’s not George,” you corrected, swinging one arm over Fred’s shoulder and the other over George beside you, nodding your head in his direction, “this one’s George.”

Cedric looked over at you in casual awe, “how do you do it, (y/n)? How do you tell them apart?”

You pulled the three boys closer, throwing your head back with a laugh, “Well it takes some practice. But it’s actually quite simple, you see-”

“Hurry up now! All of you! Gather round, it’s almost time!” Mr. Weasley called out, getting the four of you to jog up to join the group gathered around an old boot. George turned his head to Cedric, but didn’t take his eyes off you, “Come now, Ced, a magician never reveals his tricks.”

You looked back at him, pressing your back to his chest to reach out and place your fingertips on the boot, “Georgie, we’re all magic.”

Before he could respond, you felt your whole body’s weight lurch forward and your feet leave the ground, gravity hooking around your abdomen as the group of you took off spinning. At one point, you felt you were going to go flying off away from everyone. George must have felt this two, and you felt his arm wrap around your waist and pull you closer. You thought you heard Mr Weasley shout for all of you to let go, and before you could process what it was he was saying, George let go of the boot. You felt him fly away and, with his arm still around you, you were yanked off with him.

The two of you landed with an oof, your back still pressed against George’s back. You could hear him groan from beneath you as you rolled off him and scrambled to your feet, turning back around and offering out a hand to help him up. He smiled weakly, squinting up in the bright light as he reached out and grabbed your hand.

You weren’t sure what to blame, his arms strong from playing beater for Quidditch the past four years, or how you were still dizzy from your ride through the portkey. But what you did know was one moment you were standing, offering to help him up, and the next he had pulled you back on top of him.

The two of you froze, not breaking eye contact. You could see the horror grow on his face and blush creeping up on his ears. And, by the feel of it, your face was about the same. Neither of you moved or said a word until you thought you overheard Fred groan and Cedric laugh from over to the side.

“Sorry!” He cried out, a bit embarrassed as he shoved you off him and got up to his feet, now offering his hand to pull you up, “Let’s try this again, shall we?”

You reached up, clearing your throat as you tried to not look flustered. You weren't quite prepared for how quickly he tugged your arm though. Once again the two of you found yourselves rather close, your chests pressed together from how quickly he pulled you up.

“Oi, you two!” Fred called from behind you, grabbing your hand and pulling you along with him, “We’re gonna lose the others if you two don’t stop rolling around in the grass.”

You slung your bag over your shoulder and jogged to keep up with Fred’s big steps. You could see the big goofy grin on his face and couldn’t help but laugh. You’d seen the twins excited over pranks, but this was a different kind of excited; innocent, wide-eyed, wholesome (or as wholesome as the twins could get). Watching his face strain from all his smiling, you couldn’t help but laugh. He looked down at you with a sort of glint in his eye you couldn’t remember seeing before and he let out a chuckle as he loosened his grip ongeo your hand and spun you around.

“I don’t suppose you’ve been to a quidditch match outside of school. Have you, (y/n)?” He asked, keeping his hand in yours and swinging your arms back and forth.

“No, I don’t suppose I have,” you answered, “but I can’t wait.”

[vegalocity]

Reunited (Red Groom AU)

This is the part where you guys realize i'm not going in chronological order and am probably just gonna do the scenes i like

but like who cares right that just means we're skipping to the good stuff

Also i combined the battle of wits and the Reuniting scene bc this is my AU and i do what i want

--

In a cruel turn of fate, when the Spider Queen stood alone between him and his most hated foe, the Red Prince wished he still had either the large blue fellow or the dragon with them still. At least the two of them were slightly more amenable to him. And maybe while they couldn't be persuaded to take these wretched restraining cuffs from his wrists they at least were better conversational partners than the half mad Spider Queen.

Tethered to the spider woman as he was at the time, when she began to mutter aloud to herself about trying to lose the Monkey King over a secret way, he had no choice but to follow as she dragged him off of the forest path and into a clearing. He'd assumed she'd gone mad, but before he could voice such opinions she'd spun a quick web and used it to blind and gag him. She'd activated the damned cuffs and finding himself unable to move on his own, he could only comply.

He could rely on naught but his hearing as the Spider Queen dragged him across the open plain and forced him to sit upon what felt to be a long felled tree trunk. He heard her arrange things with the shift and clang of cloth and metal, and soon enough he heard approaching footsteps.

One of her pointed legs pressed up underneath him, the tip just grazing where his chin met his neck.

“So, Monkey King, it's down to you and I once again.” She purred and he let out a shout of rage at finally finally being so close to the monkey who'd taken away his everything but unable to move or even look upon the face of that wretched foe.

“-By all means if you want the prince dead, come closer.” The point of the Spider Queen's leg pressed a little harder against him.

“Give me a moment, let me explain-” The Monkey King started, tense and rough and possessing none of the cocky lit his father had described it as in the stories he'd heard-

“There's nothing to explain!” The Spider Queen crowed. “You're trying to kidnap what I've rightfully stolen!”

“Per...haps an arrangement can be reached?” Why did the Monkey King even want him enough to not have grown bored and moved on? Some sort of assumed loyalty to his father? As if he'd go anywhere with the monster that had taken his-

No. Stop. Stop thinking about it, now's not the time.

The Spider Queen thought so too, he felt a small prick on his neck as she broke the skin there just a bit he let out a muffled yelp in surprise as she grabbed his arm for better leverage. “There will be none. And if you do not wish to bring a corpse back to his family you will remain where you are.”

The Monkey King's voice wavered, and for a moment it sounded afraid... and almost familiar-... No. don't you dare compare him to the monkey who killed him.

“Well... if no arrangement can be made, this is quite the impasse we've reached.”

“I would say so. If you went about swinging that staff I'd likely be squashed flat, yet if you dared do so your prize's blood will stain the soil before you finished the swing. Your brawn is unparalleled 'Great Sage' But so is my intelligence.”

“You're that smart, hm?”

“Whose the one holding the prize, Monkey King?” She gripped his arm tighter.

“Well, In that case how about a battle of wits?” There was that cocky lit. No doubt the Monkey had a trick up his sleeve to take care of the Spider Queen-

“For the prince?”

-and then if he could just play nice for long enough to get him to remove these damned restraining cuffs he could-

“To the Death?”

-he could charge at the simian with every ounce of pain and rage he'd built up in the past two years and turn him to ash and whatever smoldering stone he was made from that remained stone yet.

“I accept.”

He just had to be patient a little longer.

“Wonderful! Pour the wine, please?”

This would possibly be his greatest test of resolve yet. He heard the Monkey's footsteps approaching and as the creature drew near he smelled of peaches and the wind, and-...

Had- Had he stolen some of his beloved's clothes?!

His senses were stronger than an average humans and without his sight his other senses were sharpening and he could swear he smelled the distinct scent of-...of-....don't say his name don't even think it you don't have the time to be hysterical right now

-He didn't think he was CAPABLE of hating the Monkey King even more than he already did and yet here he was. His rage mounting and seething beneath his skin.

He heard the clack and pour as the wine sloshed into what were apparently two cups between his captor and his enemy.

“Smell this, but don't touch it.”

“This smells of nothing.”

“It's called Iocane powder. It has no smell, taste or distinctive texture but it can kill a demon in no time flat.”

“Hm.”

“Now it can't kill ME per se, but even I'm not fully immune to it. It'll put me into a sleep like death for a solid week, which is about as close to dead as I can get anyway.”

“Ahhh I see where you're going with this.”

There was another pause, and the sound of the two cups clinking as they were moved about.

“There. Which cup as the poison within? You select which you'll take, we both drink. And from there we see who has the custody of the prince, and who is dead.”

The Spider Queen laughed and released her hold on his arm to clap in her amusement.

“Truly? We both drink the wine and see who keels over? How delightful! You were never this collected with your gambits before, Great Sage! Truly I can only divine which cup is poisoned from what I know of you, Monkey King.” the Monkey King sucked in a breath and She laughed.

“I suppose the real question is how does the Monkey King go about when he plans on tricking people? Does he poison his own goblet or his enemies?”

Then the Spider Queen began on some long, painfully winded, tirade about what she'd divined about the Monkey King based on his reputation and what she'd gleaned from his behavior, and he honestly could not care about her backwards thought process one whit. He simply wished for this to be over and either make plans to return to this palace when the Great Sage was in his sleep like death and char him to a crisp or wait for the Spider Queen to fall dead and convince the Monkey King to free him so he may do the job himself.

“You're trying to confuse me into giving something away aren't you?”

“You'd LOVE that wouldn't you Monkey King? I know which goblet has the poison in it you great fool.”

“Then choose! Geez, this is boring me!”

“You'll see whose embarrassed soon enou- What in the world could that be?”

“What? Where?” Did.... Did the Monkey King really just fall for the 'look behind you' gambit? “I see nothing.”

...Really?

“I could have sworn I saw something- oh nevermind I suppose. Now, a toast. I select my own cup.”

“Very well.” the two cups clacked together dully.

“You chose wrong.” The Monkey King chortled, only to be cut off by the Spider Queen's cackle.

“You only BELIEVE I chose wrong! How humorous! The great and mighty Monkey King so easily duped!” the Spider Queen cackled “I switched our glasses as you were turned around Monkey King! You've fallen for one of the greatest blunders of them all! The Greatest of course being to never invade the far north nearing winter, but slightly less well known, is to never bet against a Spider when death is on the line!”

The Spider Queen laughed for a time longer before her laughter started to slowly dissolve into a coughing fit. Her hand scrabbled along his arm as she searched for purchase- and then fell away.

The Monkey King approached him and he most certainly HAD stolen the clothes of his beloved with the scent that clung there still—and oh how he'd wished he'd still have a remnant of him to remember with in his timeless eon of grief—and the sheer unbridled unfairness that his killer was allowed something that he so desperately had craved made him furious.

The Monkey King removed the webbing around his eyes first and he blinked in the sudden sunlight. The dark mask and head wrapping the Monkey King wore obscured the majority of his face and he found himself so full of rage at the idea of the wretched stone monkey being so close to him that once the webbing was torn from his mouth his first instinct had been to spit in his face.

He hadn't, but it had been a close call.

“....All that caterwauling and you knew you'd poisoned your own cup the whole time.”

“They were both poisoned, highness.” The Monkey King stated stiffly. “Iocane powder only works on demons and I'm immune to everything but what can kill an immortal... so you may not want to touch either of those cups yourself.”

The Monkey King reached for his bindings and he held his breath as he gave the shackles an experimental tug. The golden bands shuddered and tightened against his wrists. “What nature of binding are these?”

...just play nice, just until they're broken...“I'm not familiar with them myself, but they blast my own fire back onto me should I try to summon it, and tighten upon attempted removal.” Come on... if anyone could break them before they lopped his hands off it would be the Monkey King... and he'd thank him by giving him just what he deserves....

“Sounds like a stolen artifact from the heavenly court or something, you're probably stuck in those things until we return to Flower Fruit Mountain.”

“...Excuse me?”

“Well I know very little about the surrounding area, how short a time it's been since I've returned to the world, and if I remember correctly this mercenary group said themselves they were hired by your fiance, So we should probably assume his palace is hostile territory, and to send you home would surely double our journey time before we can be assured of safety. It's far safer to head back to my own mountain and send word to your home from there.”

No...No no no no That was not allowed. He got to his feet—in such a rush the Monkey King stumbled back in surprise—and couldn't hold on to his temper any longer.

“I will no nowhere with you! You- You absolute-! I- I can't even find the words to DESCRIBE how deeply my hatred runs for you!” The Monkey King flinched back in surprise, before huffing.

“Well you don't have much of a choice, do you? I can't remove those restraints short of chopping your hands off and the sun is due to set soon; How long do you think you'll last in the wild without your fire power? Far as I see it, You either return with me to my mountain, or leave as powerless as a human without even a weapon by your side and hope to make it back home on your own before you're either eaten or slaughtered.”

Red Son growled under his breath, but when the Monkey King gestured for him to follow, he did.

They made it to the outer side of a mountain, a steep decline into the valley off on their side and in the center of the valley lie a dark and tangled forest.

“We can rest here for a time-”

“I refuse to put my guard down around you, ape.” The Monkey King bristled.

“Would you mind terribly to indulge me as to why you've decided to detest your own savior, highness?”

The horrid monkey should know what he's done- “You killed the love of my life”

And then the bastard had the gall to remain unshaken “Maybe I did. I've killed a lot of people since getting free.” The Monkey strode forward and began to circle him, like a predator toying with its prey.

Red Son decided he wouldn't need his fire to attack this creature. Sure he may die within moments, but his rage would at least let him one punch before his skull was split open-

“Tell me, who was this 'love' of yours? Another prince like yourself?” The Monkey King leaned in. “Rich? Cutthroat? Bossy?”

Of all the disrespectful- “He worked in an Inn when I knew him! He was poor!” He rounded on the disgraceful simian yet the killer before him wasn't his focus. “I didn't care about his wealth!”

He couldn't think on him or he'd fall to pieces and-

He couldn't-

“I never cared about that.”

The memory of gentle laughter echoing in his ear, the bright excitement and bounce in his step, those elegant yet calloused hands and he had to stop this right here because the Monkey King wasn't ALLOWED to see him so vulnerable-

“He was perfect in every way...”

Yet now that the memory was in his head again it wasn't going away. And he found his heart aching as deeply as it was during his period of mourning.

The shimmer of adoration when he'd simply glanced at him briefly and known his heart; the embarrassed way his gaze had darted away when he'd later confronted him on his discovered feelings, the warm, bright joy when he'd told him his feelings were returned-

“...With eyes like the space between the stars...” His voice had grown weaker, barely a murmur as the memories reclaimed their long repressed spot in his mind.

Xiaotian... his face, his voice, His passion and energy and-

And the tired look on the Inkeep's husband's face when he'd informed him of their son's death-

-The eager excited look on his face as he'd eagerly listen to Red Son talk about his projects, always listening even if he didn't understand.

The feeling of the floor falling out from under him and and a million horrible noises and feelings mounting up in his throat and chest but restraining it just long enough to find somewhere to be alone

-The energy in his voice as he talked about his art, looking for all the world like his greatest pleasure in the world was taking a brush into his hand and immortalizing the world around him into inks and papers.

Kneeling in the grove of trees for hours screaming his rage and sobbing his despair until a stranger had finally found him.

-The stories he loved to hear and tell in turn, entire body going into his storytelling as he gestured and enacted and faked fights

Night after sleepless night tirelessly working trying to—needing to—just stop thinking else he'd be able to do nothing but wish the world itself had died when Xiaotian had so at least the sun would stop rising and the birds would stop singing and the servants would stop bringing him meals he didn't have the appetite for and he could just work and work until his body finally collapsed in on itself and the light of his forge would go out blanketing the world in eternal darkness like it deserved to be after the greatest light of them all was extinguished.

-one picture, just one, given to him the one time he'd returned to the town by the Inkeep, stating in a gruff, tired voice that he may as well keep it. A figure done up in coals, his own visage of that one beautiful night they'd had together, the paper folded and held in a secret pocket right over his heart where it remained forevermore.

That final goodbye, Xiaotian pressing a feather light kiss to his knuckles as though still trying to be respectful to a prince. And he couldn't suppress the laughter at such a overly fancy action so once his chuckles had subsided he'd pulled him into a proper kiss. And they'd both known it would be some time before they'd see eachother, so they made it a proper goodbye-

But he hadn't thought it would be the last time he'd ever see him alive.

If he'd known... all the things he would have said, all the pleas to keep him there with him in the little town just beyond the palace. To- To move him into the palace, and yes his parent's wouldn't approve of a peasant for a husband, but he'd have no other and eventually they'd come around to it. Especially after they actually MET him and knew the kind of man he was-

But he didn't. And Xiaotian was dead-

He was dead at the hands of someone he'd admired and loved the stories of.

And his rage returned. The fire burned beneath his skin and begged to be let loose but he had to keep a lid on it to keep the cuffs from bouncing his power back onto himself and burning away like an effigy of love and loss.

“He was staying in the village you burned to the ground when you left your traveling group.” his voice was low, as calm as he could possibly make it, if he went any louder he would begin screaming, he knew it. “The one you ensured none would live to tell about beyond your former friends-”

“'Friends' is such a heavy word. My 'traveling compatriots' perhaps would work better.” The Monkey King interrupted him -He interrupted him! “And I mean I couldn't afford to show any mercy while I was leaving them behind! If people thought the Monkey King had gone soft after his five hundred year imprisonment nobody would respect him! Then it's nothing but work work work to rebuild that reputation!”

“Are you mocking me?! You destroy my everything and you have the gall to mock my pain?!”

“Oh, Life is pain highness.” He couldn't see the Monkey King's eyes but he was sure they were mockingly rolling in his self-assured life knowledge. “Anyone who tries to tell you otherwise is just selling you something.”

Then he looked off to the side, and he was so tempted to just charge the Monkey, see how far he could go before he was struck back. See how far his rage could carry him alone. He twisted the restraining cuffs on his wrists, they tightened, he grit his teeth at the squeeze.

“You know, I think I remember this inkeep boy of yours. I separated from my former group about... what, two years ago was it?”

...You know he'd thought that if the Monkey King did remember Xiaotian it would give him some sense of catharsis. That his love had at least made an impression on the great fool, and was not just some faceless passerby, but...

It didn't.

“Does it bother you to know?”

“I'll not give you the satisfaction of hearing any more of my thoughts on the matter.”

“Well, he died well if that's any consolation.” The Monkey King was peering at him through the mask. “No bribe attempts with those meager savings, no blubbering. He pleaded his case to me only the once.” he looked away, seemingly lost in the memory, head tilted upward as though to help him remember. “He said 'Please... I need to live'...Not a lot of people say 'please' and mean it highness, so it gave me pause.”

“I asked him what was worth sparing him over, and I remember this, he said 'True Love'” His chest felt tight...

He reached up a hand and pressed it against his collarbone to try and alleviate the pressure, he could practically see it, the village up in flames, the Monkey King in this same hideous black outfit, his staff already stained with blood, and his precious, darling, beloved Noodle Boy kneeling in the dirt, blood seeping down his face from a cut somewhere on his head, and pleading just for a moment. And-

True love...

“He then went on to describe a gentlemen of great intelligence and deep passion; I can only assume he meant you...Have to say, I'm surprised you're not grateful to me destroying him when I did.”

His mind stuttered to a stop, his entire train of thought completely derailed as the Monkey King spoke.

“...What?”

“You know, before he could see the kind of person you really are.”

His control snapped in half, his fire sprung forth, the golden bands shuddered and the flames erupted out only for a moment before being bounced back onto him. The heat of his own fury scalding him until the pain made him stop. The Monkey King took a half step forward but Red Son made SURE he kept his distance with his glare alone.

“And what, pray tell, kind of person am I?!”

It seemed like he'd finally pissed off the Monkey King. Good. His shoulders tensed and those long canines bared, as though ready to tear into him. “He was really stuck on the idea that you were the faithful sort, highness. That no matter what, yours wasn't the kind of heart that could be swayed! He was so sure that you would wait for him-”

Wait- why was that what had angered him?

“-So tell me, when you learned of your 'love's death did you start accepting suitors the next day or did you wait a full week out of respect for the dead?!”

His hand went flying before he even thought about it, he should have punched him; if that was his only shot in he should have punched him, but his reflexes had decided the action for him and instead his palm was out and he'd slapped him instead.

“How dare you?! You mocked me once see if you live to do it again!”

But he wasn't thinking about that, he wasn't thinking about anything beyond the pain that had gone from a dull ache to white hot in his chest, the absolute blinding rage and the sting of tears welling in his eyes from the sheer tidal wave of anger and despair.

“I DIED THAT DAY”

The tears turned to steam the second they left his eyes, smoldering trails out of either, just barely able to vent that little bit of flame into the world without hurting him but he didn't care if the proof of his despair was made obvious by it or not.

He didn't care about any of it. He didn't care he couldn't summon a single plume of fire or how completely eclipsed his ability was by the Monkey King's without it, and possibly even with his it. He only cared about making him pay. He pounced on the monkey when he seemed stunned by his vehemence.

The scuffle was brief but he DID get another hit in before he was pinned. This time it was a real punch, and it was just as satisfying as he'd hoped it would be.

But too soon was he pinned, The monkey pressing his front to the ground, a knee between his shoulder blades and his hands held together against the small of his back.

He let out a shout of rage, not even bothering to try and give any more words, no more words were necessary.

“Calm down! You need to listen-!”

The steam was clouding his eyes so greatly he was nearly blind with it, his fire was trying to come out unbidden to throw off his opponent, the scalding agony rippling through his body proof of such. But he was numb to it beyond it fueling his anger even further; maybe if he just burnt hot enough he could melt the cuffs right off of him. Everything was hurting, his clothes were going to be a holey mess, but he could smell cooking meat and he could only hope it was the monkey above him. He HAD to burn the Monkey King first. Even if he was immolated himself in the process!

“The only thing I'd like to listen to is your demise! You-! You wretched ape! You heartless horsekeeper! You took my everything you don't deserve the breath you stole from his lungs!” His own lungs ached, was it through holding back sobs? Was he experiencing smoke inhalation for the first time? He couldn't tell.

The pressure was off of his back and his hands were released, he made a blind swipe to try and right himself but his arms wouldn't obey him, and at that realization the pain finally kicked in.

The world went fuzzy at the edges, then dark at the edges. Until he could only see a small spot in front of him and the rest of his sight was naught but a haze of black.

Then everything was black-

It was probably his own flesh he could smell burning-

There was rapid muttering above him-

How embarrassing if this was what did him in, revenge in his grasp and he was too eager to kill the Monkey King right there he let cursed jewelry trick him into offing himself-

Someone was sobbing, was it him? He didn't think he had enough breath in his lungs for that-

The pain was going away, did that mean he was dying-

He tried to open his eyes, but he was still face down in the dirt and could only manage one, the former grassland around him was still smoldering from his fire as it eased back into focus, his breathing was ragged, and at some point his skin had stopped burning so hot, he felt cold.

The pain had eased but hadn't vanished, but the shock was still heavy in his system as he couldn't respond when he felt a pair of arms lift him up and pull him against a hard yet warm surface.

Dark fabric met his eye, and...he knew who this person was, didn't he? At some point in the writhing pain he'd forgotten just what he was doing here, mind going blank for everything but the burning sensation. But whoever they were they felt familiar. Their arms wrapped around his torso like they belonged there, as though the two of them were made to be like this.

The next thing that processed was the sound. His ear was pressed to the person's torso and he could hear the rabbit flutter of a panicked heartbeat. But nonetheless there was something... familiar about it. And alongside the heartbeat there was the vibration of words in the stranger's chest, but these he couldn't quite make out as their face was pressed against the top of his head, buried in his hair and making the words indecipherable.

It was then that his mind finally re-engaged and he realized that it was the Monkey King holding him so tenderly. His anger felt muted by the cold cold blanket of shock, but he still struggled in his grasp to pull away, if only to try and make sense of what was going on. If the Monkey King had such judgmental and inaccurate views of a man he'd never met before now, why was he doing this?

The Monkey King held him tight and he felt the shake of his shoulders as he was pressed even closer. Why was he shaking? He shifted again and this time found his face pressed against the dark fur of the Monkey's neck.

But it... felt off... it didn't feel real. It felt more like fabric with an illusion placed over it than it did actual fur...

The smell of burning flesh finally faded from his nose and was replaced with-

…What?

No that- that wasn't possible, he'd stolen Xiaotian's clothes sure but his face was pressed to the Monkey King's neck, that can't be his scent that can't be-

His arms were still aching as he reached up and found the knot tying the dark mask and headscarf around him. Both fabrics fluttered away and with them came a puff of a cloud of smoke, a shapeshifting form dissolving around him.

And he was pressed against a very human body.

This- this could still be a trap, this could be some sort of illusion to pacify him, so he wouldn't ask any more questions, so he'd just lose himself entirely-

The human—the alive human—clutching to him tightened his grip and he could finally make out the words he was muttering

“I'm so sorry never do that again you scared me to death I'm sorry I'm sorry-”

The cocky lit in his voice was gone and it sounded so achingly familiar without it, and the feeling and the scent and it- it couldn't be....

It had to be

It was a struggle, his arms still felt heavy from the echoes of pain and the numbness of realization, but he pulled away just enough to properly look at him and-

Oh...

Like the space between the stars...

“Xiaotian...”

He was crying, just beginning to pull himself together now. Pulling an arm off of him to scrub at that beautiful face. Those enchanting eyes he'd thought he'd never see again darted away from him and he wanted to protest at not being allowed to simply look at him after... after EVERYTHING... but he couldn't find breath in his lungs.

“I think your fiance's been tracking us- I hear horses. Can you walk?”

He tried to respond, he really did, but he found himself spellbound by the sound of his voice, just as he remembered it without the false persona twisting it until the point it had become unrecognizable.

“Red Son?” he shuddered at the sound of his own name being spoken by that voice again. So many emotions and memories, the hole in his chest finally being filled, and knowing without a shadow of a doubt this time he wouldn't let anything part them again still leaving him stunned. The fire was gone from his skin and finally, finally he felt one emotion beat the others and bubble up to the surface.

Red Son started to laugh. Tears bubbling up and sliding down his cheeks as true, overwhelming joy engulfed him. His arms ached and felt stiff from the burns he'd laid onto them but he pulled them around Xiaotian's shoulders all the same and squeezed with every ounce of strength that remained in his body.

“You're alive...” he wasn't sure if his laughter had turned to sobbing or if the two had simply mixed together but his breath was hitching and the tears wouldn't stop. “If you wanted I could fly”

Those arms pulled around him again and now he could truly appreciate just how easily the both of them fit together.

“I- I still don't understand, why did you accept the proposal if you still loved me?” Xiaotian's voice was a whisper against his shoulder, and he didn't want to think any more of his family's decisions and his hopeless acceptance, yet-

“My parents decided it, and what else could I have done?” he paused for breath “You were dead.”

Xiaotian responded with such conviction he had no choice but to instantly believe him:

“Death can't stop true love; it can only delay it for awhile.”

His lips were rougher than he remembered, but Red Son had no complaints upon kissing them again.

[deathflares]

» ffxivwrite day #23 — shuffle

wolexarch, 2k words, T.

[ao3 mirror]

“Indulge me,” she insists, seemingly amused by his hesitation. “It’s just harmless fun, my lord—something I’m sure both you and I could use more of.”

He swallows. There’s a deep, if irrational fear within him that she’ll somehow be able to pull a card that reads “G’raha Tia” in big, bold letters.

This time he finds Shiori by one of the tables in the Catenaries, and it’s barely half a bell past five. She doesn’t seem to notice him approaching, occupied with a deck of cards she shuffles with slow but practiced deftness.

“Is this a late night or an early morning, my friend?”

She blinks and looks up at him, hands stopping their movement. Her lips press together in a closed-mouth smile.

“I believe I should be the one to ask that question, my lord,” she answers, bemused. “Lyna has mentioned to me in passing some concerns about your sleep schedule—or rather, your apparent lack of one.”

She gestures towards the chair across from hers, a silent invitation. “In my defense,” he says, sitting, “sleep hasn’t been a need of mine for a long time, now.”

“Not being necessary doesn’t mean it wouldn’t do you well,” she says. “But I’m certain you’ve heard enough nagging from the Captain as is. I doubt mine will convince you to get any more sleep.”

He shrugs, smiling wryly, then gestures to the deck in her hands. “And what might those be?”

He’s aware she’s proficient in Sharlayan astromancy, but whatever deck she’s holding doesn’t seem familiar to him—far too many cards, for instance.

“Tarot cards,” she answers. “My grandmother taught me to read them when I was a girl, and it’s been a pastime of mine ever since. Have you ever had your fortune read, Exarch?”

That’s a new one, he supposes. The sheer extent of her... abilities, be it in combat or otherwise, never ceases to amaze him. “I’m afraid not,” he answers.

Shiori hums. “Care to try, then? I for one am quite interested in learning what may lie in the future of a man such as yourself.”

Her tone is pleasant, but the glint in her eyes feels vulturous. He resists the urge to squirm under her gaze. “I’m not sure I should—”

“Indulge me,” she insists, seemingly amused by his hesitation. “It’s just harmless fun, my lord—something I’m sure both you and I could use more of.”

He swallows. There’s a deep, if irrational fear within him that she’ll somehow be able to pull a card that reads “G’raha Tia” in big, bold letters. Yet he can’t bring himself to refuse her. Harmless fun, she says—he certainly hopes it’ll hold true.

“... Very well,” he concedes.

Shiori beams. “Thank you,” she says, shuffling the cards one more time. She splits the deck in three parts, rearranges them back together, then spreads them out in front of him in a tidy arc. “Pick six. Try not to worry over it too much—just follow your intuition.”

G’raha proceeds to worry too much over it. Somehow this feels like a matter of life and death. Trying not to second-guess himself, he touches the back of six cards with a finger and slides them down away from the arc and towards the center of the table.

Shiori gathers the remaining cards in a single pile and slides them to the side, then flips each of the cards he’d chosen, placing them around the table in a circular formation. She hums again, resting her head on her hand and looking down at the cards with a smile, as if they’re telling her a particularly amusing story.

“These cards,” she says, gesturing to the three cards that have names written on them, “are the major arcana. They represent the most deeply rooted issues within our lives. And these cards,” she points towards the other three, which only have numbers on them, “are the minor arcana. They provide context to the major arcana, and relate to our everyday experiences.”

G’raha looks down to examine the cards. He has no idea what they mean, and he hasn’t even seen many tarot cards to be able to judge, but he’d be willing to bet that Shiori owns the most beautiful deck they offer. The artwork on the cards is stunning, enough that he wishes he could get them framed—each picture seemingly hand drawn in black and white, aside from a unique splash of color somewhere on the card.

“Each position in the spread has a specific meaning, which is why the order you pulled the cards is important,” Shiori explains. “This one,” she points at the card at the very top of the spread, “is your question. What you’re really concerned about, at the moment.”

The card in question is void of any color, depicting only seven circles with stars inside of them, sorted in a diagonal line. Nothing about it seems to give away its meaning.

“For you, it’s the seven of pentacles. It relates to contemplation and uncertainty, especially in regard to one’s work—such as wondering if you’re going to succeed. Perhaps you’re looking back at your hard work and wondering if your efforts might fail, or go unrewarded.” She taps her finger against the card, staring G’raha down with a smile that feels threateningly knowingly. “Sounds familiar to you?”

That does sound like my biggest concern, my friend, thank you. “Perhaps a bit,” he says, straining his lips in what he hopes comes across as a calm smile. If Shiori smells his fear, which he somehow wouldn’t put past her to be able to, she doesn’t mention it. Instead, she taps another card.

“Your second card is what you want most right now. For you, it’s the Lovers.”

The name is written on the card, below a pair of birds mid-flight. They’re surrounded by lines of color, as if rays of light are pouring down on them. G’raha suddenly feels very exposed.

“If you cards are insinuating I’m looking for a lover, my friend, I’m afraid they’ve erred this time,” he says mildly, praying Althyk won’t let her tell it’s a blatant lie.

Shiori laughs. “It doesn’t have to be a relationship, necessarily. The Lovers can also mean union and harmony, so perhaps you’re craving a sense of balance in your life, or merely... companionship.”

The accuracy of this is starting to make him feel more than a little uncomfortable. Shiori continues.

“Or, it can be exactly what you thought. The most obvious meaning behind the Lovers card is, indeed, love. Though it could also relate to, say, sexual desire,” she suggests, cocking her head innocently as if she has not just implied he’s overwhelmed with lust. G’raha’s breath catches in his throat, sending him into a quite graceless cough. Shiori chuckles again, but spares him further torment by moving on to the next card.

“Your third card represents your fears. For this one, you drew the Tower.”

Despite its name, the card she points to doesn’t depict an actual tower. Instead, there’s a tree being struck by lightning, shattering its trunk and setting its leaves on fire. Wonderful.

“The Tower relates to sudden change, chaos and, well,” she pauses, holding what would be eye contact were it not for his cowl. “Revelations. See the lightning? It cuts through the illusions and lies you have been telling yourself and others, making the truth come to light. As a result, all that you had built upon these lies crumbles down around you.”

You’re a liar, and your biggest fear is that your deception will be laid bare, she might as well have told him. G’raha instinctually averts her eyes, even though she couldn’t see his if she tried. “I see,” is all he says.

Shiori seems to take his lack of elaboration as a sign to continue. “Your fourth and fifth are, respectively, what you have working in your favor and against you. You drew the two of cups and the seven of swords.”

Shiori turns her attention towards the fourth card. It depicts, like its name, a pair of cups. Between them stands two roses, crossing each other in an X shape, with the red of their petals acting as the only colour in the card.

“This is another card that relates to love and connections,” she explains, seeming amused. “Based on its position, I’d say there’s an important relationship in your life, and the bond you share with this person will be key in facing the obstacles that may stand in your way.”

The way Shiori watches him feels different from mere moments ago, like there’s more she wants to say but is holding herself back from doing so. The weight of her gaze makes his pulse quicken.

“It could be just a friendship, though this card usually relates to romance. Your connection with this person is—or will be—very deep, and you’ll rely on each other a lot.”

She flashes him another smile, but something about it feels wistful. She seems—sad. Before he can question why, she continues.

“Your fifth—what’s working against you—is the seven of swords,” she says, turning her attention towards said card. Akin to its name, there are six swords displayed in a vertical row. Underneath them lies a curled-up fox, hiding the seventh sword beneath its tail.

“Somehow I feel I could guess the meaning of this one,” he says, wryly. Shiori snickers.

“It does feel a bit on the nose,” she concedes. “As you may have guessed, the seven of swords relates to deception and trickery. Whether you're the keeper of the secrets or the kept-from is for you to tell—but, either way, this deception is not working in your favor. It is likely interfering with your goals, or even the relationship that the two of cups represents.”

G’raha’s throat feels dry. He resigns himself to his suffering. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind,” he says flatly, Shiori’s eyes glued to him making it exceedingly difficult to piece his words together. She continues.

“The last card in the spread is the outcome of your current situation. And you actually drew the first card in the major arcana for it, which is interesting. It’s a bit of an odd card to have as a conclusion.”

He turns his attention towards the sixth card, at the lowest position in the spread. It depicts a bird perched on a branch. Though the animal is drawn in black and white, the background is made of horizontal lines in yellow and orange, reminding him of the sky at dawn. “The Fool”, reads the letters at the bottom of the card. Not satisfied with calling him a lecherous liar who desperately craves companionship, the cards have now resorted to calling him an imbecile. Wonderful.

“I feel like your cards have been making quite the concentrated effort to insult me, my friend.”

Shiori giggles. He’s thankful she finds his suffering amusing, at least. “That does seem so, Exarch,” she says, leaning her head against her hand, elbow perched on the table. “But I must remind you that they were pulled by your hand. By themselves, they’re quite harmless. In the order you placed them, however…”

The implication doesn’t amuse him. He clears his throat. “Will you tell me what the last one means?” he asks, eager to change the subject.

Shiori blinks, then turns her attention back to the cards. “Despite its name, the Fool doesn’t represent literal foolishness,” she explains, finger tracing the edges of the card absentmindedly. “It relates to new beginnings, new adventures and opportunities. Freedom, following one’s heart, the excitement of embracing the unknown—those are all things represented by the Fool. It’s the start of a new journey, which is why it’s the very first card in the major arcana.”

If the previous cards felt like insults in their accuracy, this one feels like mockery.

“I guess this means that in the end, you’ll find yourself able to begin anew, Exarch,” she says, offering him a small, tired smile. “A nice thought, I suppose. Is there aught you long to do, once your work is done?”

G’raha Tia would have enough answers to this question to entertain her through the whole day. The Exarch, however—

“Rest,” he answers. A half-truth, as he’s so used to delivering. “Some rest would be nice.”

Shiori hums in quiet agreement. The cards lay between them, an ocean of distance.

“That would be nice,” she says. “That would be nice indeed.”

[themurphyzone]

Oneshot: Yeah, You Ain’t Scaring Anybody

@cutiepie-tro came up with the concept for a Dakavendish Monster AU. XD

“I’m not scared of the lonely, abandoned house on Deadend Street,” Milo said, still grinning. “I mean, what’s so scary about dusty, giant cobwebs, or the rumored Indian burial ground, or the feeling that the Grim Reaper has an icy, cold vice on your heart as it stalks you in the night, or-”

Melissa covered his mouth. “Milo, while I admire that fearlessness, the description words are kinda scaring Zack.” 

Zack was clinging to the trunk of a leafless tree, his hair standing on end. “I’m not scared! I’m only using fear as a defense mechanism so I don’t get killed!” 

Milo glanced over to the house in question. It was one of the Gothic style homes, one of the large ones with the sharp points and dark colors. Nobody knew if it was still inhabited, but most didn’t bother exploring. 

It was dangerous to be out at night after all. 

He heard a splintering crack, and Milo pulled Zack off the trunk before the tree toppled over. It blocked part of the street, but it didn’t really matter. 

Not like anyone came to this section of town. 

“I dare Milo to go explore the house,” Melissa said. “If you can stay there for ten minutes without chickening out, Zack owes me five bucks.”

“I’ll do it!” Milo exclaimed. “I’ve always wanted to see a supposedly haunted house!” 

Zack groaned. “I never agreed to making bets....”

The first step to exploring haunted locations was preparation. Milo was equipped with a flashlight, a portable vacuum, an ectoplasmic detector, and several granola bars in case he got hungry. Discounting all other materials in his backpack that weren’t necessarily meant for the supernatural but would help him in the event of Murphy’s Law. 

He took his first step onto the porch, tapping a loose board a few times before it broke because it made a funny squeaking noise. A batlike wind chime hung from a beam, the wind whistling through it as it swayed back and forth. 

Zack would’ve appreciated the minor chord. Shame he decided to stay with Melissa. 

Milo tapped the door, made of a polished brown wood, and it creaked as it swung slightly inward. Well, at least he wouldn’t technically be breaking and entering. 

The door fell off its hinges with a mighty crash. Whoops. 

However, if the house was inhabited, no one came forward to yell at him for ruining their very nice door. Or the termites that were currently swarming the porch. He had no idea where those came from. 

Darkness shrouded the large foyer, a pair of gargoyles perched on the ends of the banisters. Milo turned his flashlight on, whipping it to the shadows on the landing of the staircase. He swore something shifted up there. 

He crept to the door next to the enormous grandfather clock. The gears sprung out of the glass case, scattering all over the thick carpet. 

There was definitely someone in the house. It was far too tidy to be abandoned. Well, tidy before he got there anyway. 

“Okay, gonna break this down Tobias Trollhammer style,” Milo said. “One, stand ten feet away from the door.”

He positioned himself in the middle of the foyer. 

“Two, kick the door as hard as you can and strike a pose!” Milo charged, kicking the door as hard as he could. This one slammed hard against the wall, though it didn’t break off the hinges like the first door. 

To his surprise, there was a man relaxing on the couch. “Hey, kid,” he said. Usually the haunted house experience didn’t include men in track suits.  

“Hi, I’m Milo!” he exclaimed. “What’s yours?” 

“Dakota,” he said. “That was an impressive kick. You always go busting down doors when you check out creepy Gothic houses?” 

Milo smiled sheepishly. “This is my first time exploring one actually. My friend dared me.”

Dakota raised an eyebrow, and Milo wondered if he was expecting an apology. He had broken into his home after all, which was pretty rude even if he wasn’t going to steal anything. 

Then he noticed a tall shadow looming behind him that steadily increased in size. Definitely not his. 

“With how you trespassed into my castle,” a voice behind him growled. “Broken my possessions, and foolishly believed you could get away with it, I will make certain this will be your last-ACK!” 

Milo turned around in time to see an older man slip on a gear from the grandfather clock and faceplant into the ground. It was a good thing he didn’t land on the hardwood. 

He groaned. 

“Um, are you okay?” Milo asked. “That looked painful. I have band-aids.” 

He rolled over, glaring up at Milo. “I don’t take pity from mortals,” he spat.

Dakota came up behind Milo, shaking his head. “Sorry, kid. I thought Cavendish here was past this whole ‘foolish mortal’ thing. And the whole dramatic speech gig.”

“He still broke my doors,” Cavendish muttered. “I demand payment.”

As he spoke, Milo caught a glimpse of two sharp, white fangs inside his mouth. 

Which meant....

“Whoa! You’re a vampire!” Milo exclaimed. He’d only met one other vampire before. Well, at least everyone thought he was a vampire. It was really ambiguous. “This is so cool!” 

“Cool?” Cavendish repeated in confusion. “You’re supposed to cower in fear, mortal! Is the entire concept of supernatural creature who drains people of life-giving blood flying over your head?” 

Dakota patted Cavendish’s back, ignoring the irritated glare sent his way. “He doesn’t get out much. But he isn’t going to drain your blood. Also, he’s a lot more hospitable than you think. Isn’t that right, BAT-hazar?” 

“Don’t call me that,” he grumbled. 

“Aw, but you’re so cute and squeaky as a bat, how can I not make a nickname out of it?” Dakota chuckled. 

Cavendish pulled the collar of his cape around his head to hide the blush around his cheeks. “I have powers beyond your wildest dreams. I am not cute,” he mumbled. 

Milo coughed to get their attention. “So are both of you vampires?”

Dakota shook his head. “Nah, I’m a werewolf. The full moon doesn’t come around for another week though.” 

“Oh,” Milo said. “Well, that’s still pretty cool. Maybe I can come by again on the next full moon! I mean, if you’re a friendly werewolf. But I kinda gotta run. My friends are waiting on me right now.” 

“Not a good idea,” Cavendish muttered. “He’ll smother you to death.”

They watched Milo leave, though Cavendish was careful to keep out of the fading light. “So, I guess we can expect company next week,” Dakota said. “I like that kid.”

Cavendish crossed his arms. “You are certainly not wolfing down an entire tub of ice cream in front of him.” 

Dakota grinned and hugged him, Cavendish stiffening. “You made a pun! I knew I could break through!” 

“What, no, I didn’t! Get off!” 

“You said ‘wolfing’! I’m a werewolf! That counts as a pun!”

“Dakota!” 

When Milo came by next week, he was greeted by the sight of Cavendish squirming underneath a massive, fluffy wolf. 

“Ah, you’re here,” Cavendish said. “Do me a favor and get him off!” 

[zeldahijinks]

Flock Together

Part 3

[Previous Chapter] [Next Chapter] Revali/Reader Summary: Reader has good intentions, but doesn’t seem that way to others.  Word count:  3623 [Ao3] to read full story

The weather was just absolutely perfect, you hummed. It was a tad warm, but underneath the shade of this beautiful tree the temperature even out. You sighed feeling relax while a gentle breeze kissed the exposed areas of skin, and the chirps of birds provided a rhythmical call of the wild. It was one of those days where contentment radiated everywhere, and gave a dream like appeal to the afternoon. You closed your eyes and leaned the back of your head against the trunk of the tree, feeling the corner of your mouth ease into a smile. The only thing that could make it better was if the trunk was a bit softer so you could take a brisk nap.

Peeking an eye open, you glanced next to you and saw Revali beak deep in a book. He looked like he was content as well with this beautiful day. He was perched against the tree, and a claw foot resting atop the other one while flipping through the novel. You could hear him read under his breath, his whispers floating to your ear drums and wisps out on the other side to mingle with the breeze. You inhale the peaceful air and hummed your exhale. You heard a little chortle from Revali and without looking away from his novel spoke, “Seems like you are in a sound mood.”

You only beamed and tilted your head toward him, “Mmm, I haven’t felt a day like this in a long time. It’s so nice, don’t you think?”

A smile tugged on his beak, his eyes still emerged in the book, “Indeed, we are not blessed with days like this often.” It was strange to hear Revali’s voice without any condescending tone, but for the first time you could appreciate how unique it sounded. It wasn’t deep, but it was clean and crisp. He held confidence in his enunciations that it was appealing to listen to despite what you imposingly claim. He could even be theatrical, especially when he would read the stories to you aloud. Revali flipped a page and clicked his tongue before he spoke again, “I say it has been about five moon cycles since I had a day fill me to such repletion.”

You hummed, letting your body sag, “I am too comfortable to process what you said.” Your response actually pulled a chuckle from Revali and saw from your peripherals shake his head.  Silence had fallen between you two, but it was welcomed. The sound of nature was more pleasing than a small conversation. You could have fallen asleep, but as comfortable you felt on the inside, the crick in your neck said otherwise. Bleary, your head lulled to the side, and murmured, “Could I sleep in your lap?”

Revali choked audibly almost dropping the book before he finally looked at you. “Y-you want to what??” He held the book to his chest as feathers of his neck puffed out, “How-how scandalous! Here? In the open??” He surveyed the grass field while he whispered harshly, and you gave him an incredulous look.

“The fuck are you talkin’ about?”

He stiffen slightly and flipped his book open in a swift movement, “T-training. I was inquiring if you meant t-training so close to the castle.” If he could sweat, he would be pouring gallons because he never had to correct himself so hard before. What was he thinking, he mentally wailed. He puffed up so much he looked like the aftermath of zapped by lighting.

“What’s wrong with you??” You couldn’t help yourself, but you were concerned with his appearance.

“Nothing!” He squawked off pitch, and coughed to correct himself. He peered down back to his book with a little too much refinery you could tell he was exaggerating on purpose.  His feathers fluttered back to their original place aside the ones at the nape of his neck. While he attempted to avert the situation he did get absorbed into his novel again. He found himself at peace momentarily before slowly peering to his lap. His feathers burst forth with a mighty speed as he went stiff as a scarecrow.

“.....What….are you doing?” He clicked his tongue, trying to process why your head in now using his lap as a luxury pillow. He wasn’t sure how he felt in this moment, slightly elated, but also a little anxious.

“I want to take a nap, and it’s more comfortable like this.” You simply stated the fact and sighed peacefully from your spot. His lap was a lot better compared to the tree, you mused.

“Is that what you asked before??” “Yeahh, before you went all weird on me. I figure you’re easier to deal with if I went ahead and did it.”

He cleared his throat and tried to ignore how aware he was of your head in his lap. He didn’t have the heart to shove you off like the alarms in his head shrieked for him to do, but he also realize there shouldn’t be anything wrong with this. This is exactly what he and you have been working towards. You two were getting along, he tried to convince himself,  this is what friends do, right? They enjoy each others’ company, which he certainly was, but he had a difficult time ignoring how your touch zapped him. He inwardly sighed and tried to collect himself before getting back to reading.

The steady breaths from your lips reminded him that you were still there, and although the feeling of your head was overstimulating before he did not feel the urge to shove you off anymore. He had been staring at the same page for the last few minutes and he caught himself thinking of the two of you. He couldn’t help but think how far this relationship grew in just a short matter of time. It wasn’t that long ago he could recall angry words and heated faces. Each day the two of you were learning how to be around one another, and learning what made the other one tick.

He sighed reminiscing the feeling of loathing he felt for you. He never did have true reason to be acrimonious toward you, but he just felt offended the King and Princess went out of their way knighting them to Champions only to call upon your help. You were just a knight who specialized in scouting. He, at the time, wasn’t aware of your worth.

His beak quirked into a lopsided smile at the image of the first time he met you. You had the most disinterest look when you weren’t talking to Link or Zelda, and often sitting off on high perches while chewing on a wheat stem, adorned with a worn poncho and geta sandals. He believed that was the first moment that feud began as he thought back to the word ‘Hick’ slipping from his beak. He cringed at the memory, even he knew he was in the wrong. He hadn’t known at the time you were just pulled from the middle of another mission, it still didn’t excuse him though.

The back of your hand fell next to your head and he peered under his book. The same sensation of electrifying zaps soared back and he gripped his book. He shook his head, feeling ashamed of himself for treating you so poorly. He did not have much to enjoy and he was glad he had at least this going for him. As a breeze ruffled his feather it help lull his thoughts into a still, and enjoyed the moment while it last.

Sometime later, you had awoken still under the tree with Revali. You stretched and yawned looking toward him. He was asleep, his head back while the book laid open against his chest and one wing splayed across your shoulders. While rubbing the sleep from your eyes you leaned up and yawned. The sky was donning a pink hue and the warm air had turn a bit chilly. You were still pretty tired while you stared at Revali.

Looking him over you notice how his intricate chest piece was marred and worn. Humming to your thoughts, you quirked your lips while tapping your ankle. Your relationship was surely changing, you mused thinking how he wouldn’t hesitate to deny you earlier. 

However, you sighed rubbing the back of your neck as you thought how it was still very fragile. He wasn’t completely relaxed around you and being assertive in showing him to be nonchalant wasn’t working as you had hoped. You thought perhaps there was a step you needed to take to break his barrier and in that moment realizing buying him a present would be the ticket.

A new chest piece would be perfect and you could excused it as he’ll be fighting against the greatest forces of evil soon. With a new vigor, you smile and tapped Revali’s beak a few times until he woke up. “Hey, wake up or I will leave you to the Stellos.”

He perked a feather brow up, as one eye leered at you and grabbed the wrist of the hand tapping his beak.  His tone was dry as he made his way to stand, “Have I ever told you I never once wondered how you were a knight? Hm? Honestly never crossed my mind.”

You rolled your eyes, and smirked, “Careful, that’s a heavy serving of sarcasm.” He adjusted his chest piece and swept away any leaves that had fallen on him. He side glance you as his tone low, “I only serve the finest quality, but I also aim to please.”

A surprising pleasurable shudder crawled up your back and under your breath you muttered, “I bet you do.” You clench your throat to prevent the feeling that threaten to course through you and began internally screaming. You kept a blank face as Revali turned around leaning a suppose ear to you.

“You were muttering again, what did you say?”

“I.. uh..said ‘I’m beat, how bout you?’” You started marching away as he stared at you quizzically.

The next day, you still had the thought of giving a gift to Revali on your mind, but were unable to get a new chest piece as you didn’t have enough Rupees. Your income was maxed to cover your travel expenses, and what little Rupees you did have aside, still could not afford a custom made chest piece for a Rito. Something about different anatomies the craftsman said. You thought it was a bunch of hogwash, but to suit Revali’s taste it was a price to pay.

Then again you thought getting along with him shouldn’t break the bank, but might be worthwhile with the new mission. Zelda informed you that there may be ancient artifacts of the Sheikah tribe in an abandoned diamond mine. You figured if you completed this mission, perhaps collected a few raw diamonds left over in the mines, you would be set for that chest piece and then some. It seemed like a win win situation.  

So the group of champions, and the princess gathered at the boarded up entrance of the abandoned diamond mine. Princess Zelda held the Sheikah slate looking at the digitized blueprint of the mines. “My goodness, what a mess. They hurried this operation.” She pointed to over laying underway, “These is poorly insulated and the structure is quite fragile in the lower mines.” She created a drawn copy of the mines as she continued to speak, “Also the shafts are small….Mmm..I believe I will cut out this part of the mines, it is too risky to venture there.”

You leaned over watching her draw it out, and whistled. “Hoo boy, that is a lot of tunnels.” Perhaps there would be a really great chance of finding diamonds.

Daruk looked at the map and saw the measurements, “I will not go. I will cause it to cave in with my mighty girth.” He bellowed with a laugh, “Just grab some rocks for me, the harder the better.”

Urbosa rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, “We all cannot go. Our collective weight alone will cave the mines. Princess, are you sure there are ancient items here?” Her concerns weighed heavily and Zelda bit her bottom lip side glancing Urbosa.

“Well, no...I cannot say for sure if there are any at all. I can only assume by a detailed blueprint they stored in the slate.” Zelda held the slate for Urbosa to look over. Urbosa pursed her lips examining the routes and felt torn from telling the Princess to abort. She could see how diligently Zelda mapping safe routes and how unsteady she was, but it was just too risky.

“Princess, please do not go. I don’t think this is wise.” Urbosa placed her hand on Zelda’s shoulder. “I’ll go!” You piped up, seeing how Urbosa was trying to disband the mission. You nervously gnawed your bottom lip, “If there’s anything I’m skilled at is crawling in small places. I think it’s best if I go in alone. I have tons of experience of situations like this, so I know which routes to avoid.” You did the best you could to sell yourself. The stubbornness implored you wanting to get the diamonds and you were anxious that you would lose this chance.

Standing off to the side Revali stood with his wings crossed and rose a brow. You snatched the map up and looked it over to further dragged your sales pitch, “And Zelda has marked the off limit shafts. I’ll be safe.”

Everyone looked between each other unsure before Revali side step next to you, and peered down at you, “Pardon me if I am being a tad, how shall I say, suspicious.”  He got in your face and his words challenging your resolve, “It’s not often you volunteer for a solo mission.”

You blew a huffed of air in annoyance, thinking to yourself you should have known he’d pipe his two rupees. He doesn’t like to make anything easy for you, does he? “Normally, no, I wouldn’t go alone. I decide to have a partner if there is a possible way for the second party to aid. If these mines collapse why lose two warriors? Some sacrifices have to be made.” The look on Revali’s face was hard to discern, but you could only assume he looked deeply offended.

Taking a step back, not ready to deal with another emotional outbreak, you turned around, and ran toward the entrance, “Leave if I am not back in six hours!” You hurriedly shuffled under the gap of the boarded entrance, not giving anyone the chance to bring you back. You thought of all the nice things you could buy for them all afterwards...well...you thought, that is if you came back.

So far these dark, mucky old mines weren’t so bad, you though. Although you had to tied a bandanna around your face from spores, this part of the mine seemed in better shape than previously thought.  The tunnels were lined with dusty old lanterns, and rolled up rope lining the walls. When you had notice you had grabbed a yellow roll and tied it to a stake in the ground at the entrance. You were lucky that is was still in decent shape and extremely long that you could use it and the several other ropes to help you find the entrance again. It was dark and seeing the map in your lanterns light wasn’t as easy as you first thought.

However, there were deep holes in the ceiling and the ground as you went down the mine. It looked dug through, and light cascaded the path. As you ventured a bit further the walls of the tunnel began to decrease in size and soon found yourself ducking forward. There were vines and long grass growing from the patches in the ceiling, and it was inevitable avoiding them. You finally came to a fork in the path, and by the map the left direction should be a densely populated room with diamond and tools. However, as you continued you couldn’t ignore the weird flapping sound around you. You saw nothing through the patches of the earth and it didn’t seem to be behind or in front of you.

Cautiously, you made your way into the mines. The tunnel began to expand again and you thankfully didn’t have to hunch over anymore. There were rusted mine-carts and tools, and the holes in the earth were larger in this room. Light shone brightly and casting on one of the carts. It was filled to the brim with raw chunks of diamond and you gasped aloud, but just as you were about to run toward it, someone scream out your name. You only had enough time to turn around before being flung across the room right on the carts filled with diamonds!

You left out a groan of pain quickly unsheathing your sword and froze at the creature in front of you. It was large and worm like, with burnt like flesh marred with iridescent symbols. Its head was like a flat intricate mask with a gem in the middle, and it adorn the same symbols on its burnt body. It let out a horrendous screech, its mouth spreading open like deku baba before lurching at you. You quickly flipped off the cart just in time as it charged right into the diamonds. You continue to provide as much distance as you could while you observed for weaknesses

You didn’t have time before it formed into itself, its mask sinking into its body and emerging the opposite end. It reared its ugly mouth and lurched for you again. This time you held your ground and attempted to slice into its mouth, but the burnt like skin turned out to be extremely tough. You groaned as you struggled in the stand still, and the creature hissed angrily. With a will so strong, you flung the monster backwards and went to charge forward in its moment of vulnerability when a flash flew in front of you, effectively separating you and the creature.

Revali stood at attention with his bow aiming directly at the masked creature. He shot the arrow with a strong impact right through the creature’s mask, and shattering the oval shape gem. Before you knew it the worm monster curled into itself and disintegrated in a black heap. All you could do was stand there staring at the pile of dust that once was the monster.  You then looked at Revali in exasperation, exclaiming loudly, “Excuse me! But that was my kill!”

Revali stared at you aghast before shaking out of it, and marching right to you.  His face was not pleased in the slightest and he looked downright furious. You unconsciously stepped backwards at the sight until you were trapped between him and a rusty old cart.

"’I decide to have a partner if there is a possible way for the second party to aid.’” His tone flat mocking your rebuttal. His feathered brows furrowed in irritation, “You want to know a few things you do that ails me with headaches? You are impulsive, let yourself get carried away, and end up in a predicament in which you have to fight for your life. That isn’t even the worst thing, but at least now, I have been made aware of your vice..” He held up a cluster of raw diamond, his eyes burning with silent rage, “You put your greed before your self worth.”

You went to speak, but he cut you off and dropped the cluster at your feet, “For a renowned picket, you are quite the hypocrite.”

You snatched his beak in a tight grip in a heat, your own eyes burning with rage and true hurt... “I would watch that tongue of yours, Revali.”

He shoved you away, straightening out his appearance before coldly leering at you. “Tch. I feel the more time I spend with you the more my intelligence diminished, because I cannot fathom a sane enough reason why I put up with you.” A sharp jolt shot through your chest, and stared at him in disbelief. Where was all this coming from? Had he conjured some warped perception of you? Your chest heaved with uncertainty and stress, and found it difficult to say the words you wanted to say. He just glared as you fumbled to explain yourself and he affirmed a confirmation within himself that wasn’t true.

He looked at you with pain, and struggled with himself with what he really wanted to say. Hadn’t you two promise to do better, he questioned. The urge to speak his mind bubbled, instead, he turned around and prepared to take off, “If you are fine throwing yourself away then I shall be off.” His gale propelled himself into the air and he was gone from your sight in mere moments.

You were left there unsure how to feel. The void in your chest left you wondering how fast this relationship could turned in just a day. However, this time you weren’t sure if there was a way out of this predicament.  You pinched the bridge of your nose before noticing the diamond cluster glistening at your feet. Disdain bubbled in your stomach, a begrudging sigh releasing before you picked it up. While wiping your dripping nose with your sleeve, you slipped the diamond in your bag, and muttered, “Guess I am…”

You continued to search the mines for the Princess’ artifacts hours after, and felt reluctant when you finally came out with nothing to show for other than the large diamond in your sack. Revali was nowhere to be seen and none of the others seemed aware of the altercation between you and Revali.

And you swore you’d keep it that way.

[bloodandcream]

Title: Sugar Rainbows and Bad Ideas

Pairing: Wincest

Rating: Explicit

Wordcount: 3,538

Notes:  rainbow dust sex pollen, somewhere between crack and angst, set it early season 1, bottom sam

-

Sometimes, Sam wonders why more monsters don’t hang out in big cities. He’s only gotten back to hunting with his brother for a few months now, and he misses a lot of the things it was easy to take for granted in Palo Alto. Well, maybe it wasn’t a big city, but the cluster of downtown businesses had all the amenities you could need. Sam’s tired of the huge stretches of nothing that make up middle America and the monsters that call creepy backwoods home.

Of course, big cities present their own challenges to hunting. Nosy people getting in the way. And the monsters that hunt urban tend to be smarter, they’ve figured out how to live around people, like parasites.

Maybe, traipsing through the woods with a heavy duffel full of different weapons because they don’t know what kind of monster they’re up against isn’t such a bad thing.

Also, the view is nice.

“Are you sure we aren’t hunting a leprechaun here, Sammy?”

His obnoxious, loud brother says from several feet in front of him. Sam has kind of zoned out watching Dean’s ass. Not like he makes a habit of zoning out during a hunt, but it’s broad daylight and they’re following a freaking rainbow.

“I mean, we’re following a fucking rainbow.”

Sam rolls his eyes, turns his head up to the bright, glimmering swath of color cutting through the sky that they’re following.

“Leprechauns aren’t real.” He states.

“We hunt plenty of things that people think are make-believe.”

“Well some of them aren’t real. Like leprechauns.”

The rainbow thing is kind of weird. There’s not a cloud in the sky, and the earth is dry. There hasn’t been rain for weeks. But there’s been a rainbow hovering over this backwaters town of a couple thousand, and people have been striking luck all over. Winning money. Eloping. Someone’s dead dog came back to life.

And all of the people that got lucky have reported seeing funny things in the woods under the rainbow.

It can not be a leprechaun.

It just can’t.

But, even good luck comes with a price and there’s no such thing as coincidence, so here they are.

Following the rainbow.

“I don’t know man, if it really is a wish granting leprechaun, maybe he can give you a sense of humor. And better hair.”

-

There was no pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, which actually did curved down into a patch of earth at a clearing in the woods, the grass around it verdant and sparkling. Seriously unnatural. Sam had still doubted that this was the work of a leprechaun - witch, maybe, or some supernatural creature playing pranks.

But then a little, vicious, knee-height humanoid with pointy ears and needle-sharp teeth latched onto Sam’s leg and he’s pretty sure it’s a freaking leprechaun.

Iron’s probably the safest bet, but it’s hard to dig out the right knife when something is snarling and trying to climb up you and your brother is being absolutely useless just standing there staring at the freaking rainbow.

“A little help here Dean!”

Dean waves him off, back turned, like Sam’s a pesky kid asking for a backride or help learning to pack salt rounds.

Sam reaches across his shoulder where teeth and nails and fury are digging through his coat, gets a hand on something scraggly and tears, flinging the leprechaun across the clearing into the mossy trunk of an old tree.

The sun’s just as bright as ever, and the rainbow is kind of glimmering so radiant it’s starting to hurt his eyes. Sam barely gets a hand closed around the handle of an iron crowbar when the foaming mad creature bowls into him, weight slamming against the backs of his knees and Sam goes down.

The grass is fragrant and sweet crushed underneath him - and this thing that’s trying to chew his leg off. A fine iridescent dust that catches the sunlight and pulls it apart into colorful fractures, poofs up around them and Sam gets distracted by a coughing fit.

“It tastes so sweet….”

Rolling over to try to pin down the leprechaun, or whatever - that’s seriously way stronger than it looks - Sam whips his head up and sees Dean with a hand out, waving through the shimmery light. It’s like he’s trying to catch the rainbow in his hand, weapons dropped to the grass, and there’s a look of wonder on his face, big eyes and big smile, as he licks his fingers.

“Dean, do Not eat that rainbow!”

Sam has no idea what rainbow dust does to a person, but it’s probably not good.

His jacket is pretty tattered and his jeans are grass-stained grimy by the time he wrangles the leprechaun to submission, beating it with the crowbar a few times and then digging out iron chains to wrap it up when that barely seemed to slow the thing down. He’s got it locked and bound and it’s still rolling around in the grass growling at him when Sam can finally pull his brother away from the rainbow that he’s trying to eat.

“What the hell man?”

Dean gasps, shakes his head and blinks at Sam.

“I…. wait, is that a fucking leprechaun?”

-

Dean’s pacing. He’s been jittery and amped up since they made their way out of the forest and back to the hotel. Sam watches him closely. His cheeks are flushed and his eyes are too dilated even for the weak motel light.

“I say we just stab him until we find something that kills him.”

Waving an arm wide at the thing still bound in iron chains now propped on a chair in the corner of their room, Dean makes a move for the duffel bag at the foot of a bed.

Sam crosses in front of him. “Dean, just calm down. We should figure out what he is first.”

“Dead is what he is. Good enough?”

“No,” Sam folds both arms over his chest and stands his ground in front of the weapons. “Look, leprechaun or whatever, it’s done some pretty serious magic, and that doesn’t come without a price. We should figure out what it is and how to undo whatever’s been done first.”

Turning and pacing more, Dean shrugs out of his leather jacket, drapes it across a chair that’s still at the table. He stalks to the fridge and pulls out a single beer, sitting at the table with a sulky ‘you never let me do fun things’ look. Half the bottle is drained in a single gulp.

“Dude, are you feeling alright?”

“I’m fine. I just really wanna kill -” Dean points towards the bundle of chains and seething anger “-whatever that is.”

The creature growls around the gag in his mouth, sounding like a broken wall a/c unit. It had rolled around in the trunk and made nasty hissing noises for the whole ride back to the hotel, and had toppled off the chair a few times, but for the moment it’s settled down. And now Dean’s pissing it off again. Great.

“I don’t know if getting close to the rainbow was such a good idea.” Or trying to eat it, but hey, what does Sam know.

Come to think of it, his skin has felt a little itchy and warm around his hands, face and neck, a few spots on his body near the nicks where the creature has bit or clawed through his clothes. Maybe the rainbow dust really was dangerous.

“I’m going to take a shower,” Sam tells his brother, “Just, please don’t do anything stupid ok?”

“I don’t need you to babysit me.”

Sam digs through his duffel bag for a change of clothes, and the neosporin, before shutting himself in the bathroom.

-

There are a couple of nasty gashes but for the most part Sam’s just scraped up. His head is a bit woozy and warm, so the nagging sense of ‘something is wrong with Dean’ only gets worse during his tepid shower. Pulling on his boxers and combing his fingers through his long hair, Sam leaves it at that. It feels like a fever is setting in.  

Something is definitely not right.

In the span of a ten minute shower, Dean has kicked off his shoes, taken off his socks, and gotten down to a soft gray undershirt. He’s sitting at the table, empty beer by an elbow, glaring at the thing in the corner like he could kill it with the force of his eyes alone, and the skin of his forearms is pinkened where he’s rubbing his hands over them repetitiously.

Sam places a hand on his shoulder and Dean jolts. “Hey, seriously man, what’s going on?”

Dean stands and turns, toe to toe, his pupils so dilated there’s hardly any green. His hands are burning where he places them on Sam’s waist, leaning in with a drunken sway.

“I don’t know.”

Shivering, suddenly cold next to his brother’s heat, Sam’s mouth goes dry. “Why don’t we, I could pick up some food and we’ll get some research in. Yeah. We should... research.”

Humming, Dean strokes his thumbs over the line of Sam’s hipbones, thicker with muscle now, but lean-lean and it’s such an achingly familiar gesture that Sam’s yanked back years, feeling so small.

Only, this time, Dean is shorter and he has to lean up. That can’t be right. Sam had just made it to eye level the last time -

“I don’t know if this is a good idea.” Placing a hand weakly on Dean’s chest, Sam makes a token effort to push him away.

“It’s the best idea I’ve ever had.”

Dean leans in, and Sam tilts away, turning his head to the side as soft lips brush across his jaw, hands slipping around his waist to the small of his back and oh Dean has the perfect height just like this to nose under his jaw and kiss that spot below his ear that makes Sam quiver down to his toes.

The last person he’d touched, like this, had sun-golden hair and smelled like vanilla. Her absence is an ache so sharp Sam still keeps awake from it at night, curled under the bedsheets in a different bed from his brother, slowing his breathing to pretend he’s asleep when all he can do is cry uselessly into his pillow with her name and the memory of her body still on his lips.

There’s an older ache layered under that one. The big brother Sam’d left at a bus stop years ago. There’s that person Dean used to be, and Sam remembers him keenly, remembers how easy his smile was with the windows down and the music loud, how Dean used to touch Sam like he owned him, and he did.

Sometimes, Sam still sees familiar things, but Dean’s so different after four years apart. After Jessica. There are so many afters and things he thought he’d left behind and this is a bad, dangerous idea because Sam doesn’t know if they can be that again or if they’ll be something new. He doesn’t know if he can.

All the craters of loss in his chest keep filling patchwork like slapping asphalt over a pothole but it cracks again with time and age and he’s not whole.  

The hot mouth moving down his neck sweeps over his shoulder, pressing kisses to his skin gently, like Sam’s still a knobby-kneed and colt shy boy confused by the things he wants from his brother’s mouth.

Dean’s calloused hands drag up his back and down, fingers teasing under the waistband of his boxers. Stepped closer, one foot outside one foot between Sam’s, Dean presses against him and he’s so hot through his clothes, dick hard and straining.

This is familiar and comfortable, and strange and unknown. Sam is distantly aware that something happened to them but he can’t think of what, all he wants is to kiss Dean back but -

“The leprechaun's watching.”

Dean pulls back, blinks dazedly, and laughs. Taking a step away, he pulls his shirt off and flings it into the corner, covering the head of the thing that starts hissing underneath it, but hey. At least it’s not watching anymore.

Cupping Dean’s jaw in both his hands, Sam kisses him. Sweet and shy, uncertain if he really is welcome, if he really is allowed to have this, after he left, after he fucked up. But Dean reaches for it, cranes upward and throws his arms over Sam’s shoulder, licks into him and Sam whimpers.

Stumbling, pushing Dean backward and following, lips to his cheek, his chin, his mouth, teeth scraping his tongue in that rough way that still makes Dean’s hips buck, Sam backs him against the bed and Dean falls onto it.

Heaving a deep breath, Sam can’t think straight with Dean sprawled, shirtless, skin pale past the tan line and the burnished gleam of the amulet Sam gave him ages ago sits right under the notch of his collarbone on black twine.

He kept it. Sam’s seen it, on the outsides of shirts, swaying when Dean leans over the trunk of the Impala, wet from a shower because he never takes it off - never - but it hits Sam. It’s just a childish trinket, and Bobby had given it to Sam to give to their Dad, but Dean’s always been more of a father-figure to him and god, isn’t that fucked up.

“You just going to stare?”

Dean grumbles, pushes his jeans down, dick slapping against his belly as he kicks them off, plush of his hips a little softer and he’s definitely lapsed into worse eating habits since Sam hasn’t been around to shove salads in his face.

There really is no going back. Sam’s not going to go back to college, he’s not going to go back to a normal life. He’s going to fuck his brother and they’re going to kill a leprachaun, then they’ll move on to another hunt and another motel bed and eventually they’ll find Dad, and Sam thinks that maybe he can get used to it again.

Tripping over his boxers as he pushes them down, Sam throws shirts out of Dean’s duffel bag looking for the lube that he knows is in there, Dean’s hands on his hips pulling him into the bed, mouth against his side, his arm. Rolling, Sam finds Dean staring up at him, flushed and beautiful and needy.

“Baby boy.”

His voice stutters and shivers into Sam.

“M’right here.”

Sam swears there’s still a shimmer on Dean’s skin, teasingly shifting colors in the light, streaked around his mouth.

“Hey,” Dean says, hands drifting to Sam’s hips, “D’you think the rainbow’s luck gives you what you want the most?”

“I’m not what you want most,” Sam says. Because he shouldn’t be. Because it hurts.

So he lowers his forehead to Dean’s, breaths against him and drops his hips to rut against the solid heat of his brother.

“You’re all I want.”

Dean angles his head, slots their mouths together for a melting hot kiss, legs bracketing Sam squeeze tighter and Dean flips them. Sam sprawls underneath him, limbs reaching the edges of the bed and he remembers when Dean could blanket him wholly. His feet peek out the end now but it’s still like being wrapped up warm and safe from the world.

There’s an itch under the skin of his hands crawling up his arms into his core, but it soothes when he lifts them to Dean’s chest, the wide span of his hands covering side to side and slipping around to pull Dean closer. Chest to chest, Dean folds up one of Sam’s legs and makes himself at home between them, heat of his cock dragging over Sam’s erection, precome slick and Dean groans.

“God, I’m burning up,” Dean tells the corner of Sam’s mouth.

Sam hums his agreement, soothing the itch in his hands roaming over Dean’s body, muscle shifting firm and steady under the soft swathes of skin between slivered old scars.

“I gotta get in you, baby.”

“Yeah.”

Sam gasps, arches his back as Dean bends another leg up and holds him open, sits up taking all the warmth with him. The lube Sam’d gotten out sits in the folds of the sheets where he’d dropped it. Dean stares. Strokes his hands down the insides of Sam’s thighs and up the crease of his hips. Sam’s cheeks burn hot, must be as bright as the flush lighting Dean up, and his body has the muscle memory of this but the dimensions are all off.

“Grew up big,” Dean bites his lip and ghosts his fingers over the living twitch of Sam’s cock, looks at him like he’s burning it into the backs of his eyes.

“Dean,” Sam puts as much pleading in his voice as he can, practically slaps Dean on the arm with the bottle of lube, braces his feet on the hard muscle of Dean’s thighs and flexes his toes, curling, pushing his hips up, begging.

Dean’s groan rattles out guttural, hands fumbling for the lube, one pushing Sam’s leg wide again while he slicks and slides a finger in, head dipping down and getting his mouth around Sam’s cock and Sam could fucking cry. It’s making him frantic, this clutching inside his chest, razor wire tied to Dean.

Fingers brushing through the short spikes of Dean’s hair, hardened with product and gritty from the hunt, there’s shimmery rainbow dust falling out that powders over Sam’s face and he licks his lips because he can taste Dean on them and it’s so, fucking, sweet.

Toes curling with a shock of arousal sharp enough to hurt, Dean’s mouth working a miracle on his cock while he’s stretched wide on fingers and he can’t stop the way his body seizes, drawing them in, Sam pushes at Dean’s head, scoots out from under him.

Dean hasn’t much to say other than a confused whine, but once Sam gets turned over onto his hands and knees, pushes up, Dean’s hands are back on him. Holding him steady. Mouth tracing wet up his spine and there’s the blunt head of a cock at his hole and Sam’s burning from the inside.

This is what he wants the most.

For now and forever.

There’s no going back to what they were, and there’s no erasing the in between. Sam realizes Dean isn’t the only one who’s changed during the separation. But he’s more certain now, more certain than dizzying teen adulation, of what he needs.

Bright hot pleasure lances through him and Sam rolls his hips back, squeezes his hands in the sheets and buries his face in the unchanged sour sweat and shaving cream smell of Dean’s pillow.

Dean is fast and he’s desperate too, clutching onto Sam’s hips bruise-tight, teeth dragging over his shoulder and Sam leans his head aside so Dean can find the right spot, clamp down harshly on that lifeline through his heart down his spine into the heat between his legs that swells and expands, pulses erratic adrenaline-high and Sam screams into the pillow, ass up, legs spread for his brother.

That’s what he’s always wanted.

-

The leprechaun is gone in the morning.

The insides of Sam’s thighs are sticky and his neck is throbbing sore. Tapping fingers gently, he finds the tender spot and when the lightest touch makes it sting he knows there’ll be a wicked bruise there.

The lights are still on.

Actually, it’s not quite morning. Little after five, the glow of the clock askew on the side table says. The curtains are wide open, jesus, anyone could of walked past last night, and the sky is turning inky with pre-dawn.

Dean is drooling on his pillow, mouth open, snoring a little.

The iron chains are piled on the floor between the corner and the door, and the leprechaun is gone.

Sam smacks his brother.

“Dean, wake up!”

Sam leans back when he realizes he’s startling Dean awake, his brother reaching for a weapon under the pillow, and Dean’s cheeks still look a little splotchy when he sits up knife in hand, sputtering and looking around the room.

“What?”

“The leprechaun is gone.”

Dean glances to the corner.

“Son of a bitch!”

Sam winces at the tone of his brother’s voice, stands up and winces again for a different reason.

He’s not sure where his boxers are, so he pulls on his jeans.

“Told you we should of just stabbed it until it died!”

“Yeah, fine. But I’m still worried about the after-effects of it’s magic.”

Dean starts tearing the room apart. Sam, curious, pulls a dirty shirt over his head and wanders outside into the parking lot, cracked pavement cold under his feet, dew on the scraggly weeds separating the lot from the street. Over the tops of the small mainstreet buildings the sun starts coming up, and the sky is a clear, uninterrupted blue.

“No rainbow.”

“Huh?”

Dean pokes his head out of the motel door, jeans on and not even buttoned.

“The rainbow’s gone.”

“Huh.”

Shirtless, leaning around the door, Dean makes a grabby hand at Sam.

“Come back inside, it’s cold out.”

[littlethoughtsandfeelings]

The Bachelor Australia 2017 Recap - Episode 1

The Bachelor Australia 2017 Recap S2 E1        

 I debated whether or not to review this season of The Bachelor. I recapped Georgia Love’s season of The Bachelorette, and I’m pretty sure my boyfriend was the only one who read those reviews, but here we go again.

Full disclosure: Those who read my Bachelorette Season 2 reviews will know that I wasn’t the hugest fan of Matty J. Nothing against him, he just wasn’t my number one pick for Georgia. However, I am super excited to see him (hopefully) find someone as gregarious and upbeat as him. However, if those pesky producers pull another bait and switch on us, I think that’ll be the last straw. (Let’s be honest, just until the ads roll around for the following year). On with the show!

Oh, Osher. How I have missed your liquid caramel voice! And that music! Oh, god I love this show. 

I don’t think I can ever watch that clip of Georgia telling Matty J he wasn’t the one and he puts his hands on his knees without feeling a little pang in my heart. And a pang in my soul for being so STUPID TO HAVE NOT REALISED THE BAIT AND SWITCH.

Cue shirtless-on-the-beach-looking-into-the-distance clip! And exciting, heart warming, vomit inducing montage of the season. What? That wasn’t what it was supposed to do?

Now, breaking news, Matty J was on The Project before tonight’s episode informing everyone he has officially dropped the J. Just…Matty. Previous readers might think I was elated with this news, given how much I hated the nickname when he was first introduced. But if I’m honest, Matty just sounds kind of… empty (insert joke here about empty heart and looking for love).

I swear the editors have a little checklist beside their computer of how to open every season of The Bachelor:

- Running on the beach shirtless? Check!

- De-saturated montage of heartbreak? Check!

- But now I’m totally over it and it’s totally fine speech? Check!

OH THAT’S RIGHT. HIS TERRIFYING SISTER. AND THE NEPHEW. THE WEIRD RELATIONSHIP WITH THE NEPHEW.

He’s “cooking” with his mum in the kitchen. By “cooking”, I mean refusing to cut the avocado due to some genetic rash-inducing phobia.

Then, Matty’s mum expresses her generic trepidation that he might get his heart broken again, before saying about last season’s let-down: “It was really hard for me.” Yeah well guess what, Mum? It was PROBABLY REALLY FUCKING HARD FOR MATTY J TOO.

- Slow-mo dressing at dusk? Check!

- City pan? Check!

- Close-up limo shots? Check! 

I swear, if you showed me the opening to all of the seasons, you could correlate them scene. by. scene. Which is fine. But… does anyone maybe want to do something different? Throw a different shot in? What if there was just an elephant shooting water from its trunk just shoved in the middle to see if people catch it? That’s what I would do. But hey, I guess if you’ve got a format that’s working, then why change it?

Matty and Osher meet up in front of the mansion. There’s some snooze-inducing filler-talk about love at first conversation. Yawn. A slow burn. Yawn. Even Osher’s trying to jazz it up with his leading questions but tbh, I’m only watching for the arrivals section.

Like I did last year, I’ll break down the arrivals for each lovely lady:

Alix is the first girl. Her description says, “body painter” so we all know not to take her seriously. She’s wearing an orange dress with lots of cut-outs. I think there might be more cut-outs than actual fabric. Sorry, she says the dress is red. So we know she’s a tiiiiiiiny bit colour-blind, but that’s cool. Alix has conveniently placed body paint on her arm to talk about her work and Matty pretends to be interested. As she walks away, Matty says, “She is… pretty.” And I have laughed my first belly laugh of the season. Nup. Not the one. 

Tara is next. She’s a nanny. She loves kids. (And if you remember from the montage shoved down our throat 5 minutes earlier, MATTY J ALSO LOVES KIDS. SPECIFICALLY HIS NEPHEW). Tara says, “Both of my sisters are married with children, so I’m the last one.” Ah yes, the perils of being a spinster. (Side note: I think in her talking head we hear someone question “Five hours”. Correct me if I’m wrong, but is this the first time we’ve heard someone speak behind the camera? WHO ARE YOU, MYSTERY VOICE? TELL ME WHAT GOES ON BEHIND THE SCENES! I think it’s pretty telling that I’m more interested in this than Tara). The convo’s a bit awkward if we’re honest. Matty even throws in, “Yeah. It’s a nice house.” Oh, she has tats. And she conveniently forgets which ear she has a smiley face tattooed behind. Never thought I’d be writing that sentence in my life. She’s immediately injected into Cool Girl status, by “accidentally” saying “mate” and “ay” at the end of sentences. Look, she’s one of the boizzzzzzz. She’s got a great dress, but she’s not the one.

Laura is a jewellery designer. She’s wearing a pants suit and seems much too sensible to be on this show. She makes a joke about bringing a cob loaf, which totally would have shot her straight to top three at least. The way to a man’s heart, and all that. There’s a bit of light flirtation about Matty wearing one of her rings. He says it’s appealing that she is hardworking *cough lives in Sydney cough* and is passionate about what she does *cough lives in Sydney cough*. She seems nice enough, but still not the one.

Now, Cobie! I’ve seen Cobie on the ads, and from that ten second clip I’m confident I know everything about her. But seriously, she seems quirky and funny and just like Matty J. (Remember the quiz game he made for Georgia? Cobie would totally do that kind of thing for him). She comes in with a bunch of balloons and sucks the helium and introduces herself. I thought it was sweet and cute, but they’re playing clown music underneath, which would suggest she’s not the one. Cobie reveals that she works in mining as a coal plant operator. She should have brought a piece of coal into the mansion for him! (For those reading overseas, this is a cutting-edge joke about an event that occurred recently with our politicians. It’s very funny and witty. Trust me).

And now we begin the montage, starting with Simone, who is very… white. From the hair to the teeth to the dress. Then we have Elise, Monica, Laura-Ann, Elizabeth, Steph, Sharlene, Stacey, and Sian. And as we all know, montage girls don’t get picked. 

Our lovely montage (yawn) ends on Jennifer, who wants to be “dipped”. Jennifer, a question: Is a manufactured “dip” a “real dip”? I mean, it’s not French Onion, is it? (Ha! See, you’ve all missed me).

Cue clown music again, this time for Natalie, who is a midwife (REMEMBER MATTY J LOVES CHILDREN. ESPECIALLY HIS NEPHEW). She’s just wearing glitter body paint. Kidding, but hey, it could be. It’s just a very skin-coloured dress. Natalie admits to stalking Matty on Instagram, and says the word “moist”. Lololol let’s all get on board the internet bandwagon where we all think “moist” is a gross word and oh look how relevant she’s being, and dorky, and sweet. Sigh. And then, just when I think all hope is lost for Natalie, she reveals she has dated “a woman”. She’s BI! IS THIS THE FIRST NON-HETERO BACHELOR CONTESTANT?! THIS IS INCREDIBLE. But then she says she hopes Matty can, “Turn me straight again.” Um, I’m not 100% sure it works like that, Nat. And I’m also not sure if this comment is going to help the disgusting political opinion that you can just change your sexuality on a whim. I wish I thought better of the producers than to include this, but I don’t. And then, in case things couldn’t get any worse, SHE SNIFFS HER FINGERS AFTER MEETING MATTY J. SHE SAYS THEY SMELL LIKE HIM. WHAT RATING IS THIS SHOW FOR CHRIST’S SAKE?! (Also, question: Are we sure this isn’t just Georgia Love in a wig?).

Now for the contrived moment we saw in twenty thousand ads, a police car comes in. From the ads I assumed she was just being driven in and I completely rolled me eyes, but this… this I can get on board with! SHE’S DRIVING HERSELF! IN A COP CAR! There’s a brief, unnecessary ad break before Constable Packston introduces herself. She entered with a handshake and in a cop car and THIS. WOMAN. MEANS. BUSINESS. Her first name is Michelle, and Matty accidentally (?) admits he’s been in the back of a police car, because… he peed in a bush when he was 18. Could this show be any more PG13 if it tried? Michelle seems much too sensible for this show, but they have good banter. Until Matty asks her to “mock arrest” him, in some sort of sex foreplay ritual. Matty says, “You’re quite strong for a…” (Don’t say woman, don’t say woman, don’t say woman…) “…Someone with a petite frame.” Nice work Matty! She seems great. I would say that the gag might prevent you from winning, but Lee came in with a frickin donkey, so all bets are off.

Belinda arrives already in a wedding dress, just in case Matty decides to call it all off on the first night. Her description says “Love Coach”, and I’m out. Belinda puts her hand over Matty’s heart while he does the same to her in some kind of trust exercise which also seems like a foreplay ritual. She’s also got an egg timer. Urgh, this is so awkward. Let’s just move right on.

To…Florence. She’s from Holland. She is also wearing orange… red. WHY ARE THESE COLOURS SO SIMILAR?! She’s brought something from Holland. It’s… clogs! For... traditional reasons! Right. Yes, Matty J will keep those and treasure them forever. 

Next there are feet. Bare feet but she’s walking on her tippy toes, which doesn’t make sense. Oh, wait. She’s ribbon dancing. Jesus. Well, props to amping up the parade aspects of the introductions. And then, this woman, whose name is apparently Akoulina, actually says, “I wrap myself up and I present myself as a present to you. Will you accept me?” This is my face right now: :| You can guess what my answer would have been to her question. 

But all of this nonsense leads us seamlessly into… Lisa. Who has romantic music, and is in a JUMPSUIT. And she looks FIERCE! Even Matty J comments on it. She’s very tall, and apparently that’s her defining feature. (Question: Why do we still use feet for our heights in Australia? We use the metric system for everything else). Matty is smitten. Lisa also reveals that she played competitive tennis for twelve years, which is cool. No joke there, that just really is cool. She seems nice, and he seems to like her. Matty’s talking head says, “She took my breath away.” Calm down, Matty! I thought you were open to a slow burn?! 

Oh, no. Poor Leah has made a mistake and worn her lingerie tonight. Nice move, producers. I’m guessing the villain due to the over-sexualisation and the black dress? She’s now messing up his hair. (Side note: Is Mrs Osher still the hair stylist on this show? I would be so pissed if I was her. How dare Leah ruin that perfect quiff!). She also makes him spin twice, which should be an effort in reversing the sexism on this show, but actually comes across kind of creepy and awkward. She literally tells him she wants him to f her right there. Well, she may as well have. 

Alright, first shot in the house! Leah makes an entrance. Oh boy does she make an entrance. Cobie stops her and introduces herself. Nice, Cobie.

Apparently Leah is ignoring everyone. (Did she?) Oh yep, apparently she did. All I see is her greeting everyone. Right. Villain. Tara does a little bit of slut-shaming here but I’m guessing we’re all ok with it because Leah is our villain lololol. Someone (honestly, I have no idea who anyone is. It’s the first night) says Leah is wearing her dress, but in black. OH YEAH. THEY’RE IN THE SAME DRESS. Do you think this was a last-minute re-write when costuming figured it out? *Loud whisper* PSSST, JUST MAKE IT INTO A PLOT POINT. THEY’LL NEVER KNOW THE DIFFERENCE. 

Then we have some contrived dramahhhh with the girls. Something happens but it’s boring and then OSHER WALKS IN! OSHERRRRRR! Save me from this boredom! He introduces them to the rose system, just in case any of them are aliens and have no idea how this show works. Matty gives them all a pep talk, because he totes knows how they’re feeling. (REMEMBER, HE’S BEEN ON THE SHOW BEFORE). 

Osher interrupts Matty because he totally forgot to mention this really important thing before. Silly Osher! This year, they have the Secret Garden, which in this context (as far as I know) isn’t a euphemism or a piece of classic literature, but a literal secret garden where they can have uninterrupted one-on-one time. What? No white rose? What a let-down…

The first girl Matty wants to speak to is Laura, the jewellery designer. The girls make a comment that she’s similar to Georgia. Really? I didn’t pick it. I mean, if we’re going to do a parallel, make it with Natalie. I swear it’s just Georgia in a wig!

Then, the power cuts out. This is apparently intentional and not due to the fact that EVERY DAMN LIGHT IN THE MANSION IS TURNED ON. DID EARTH HOUR TEACH YOU NOTHING, PEOPLE?!

And… there’s a fire dancer, because at this point, of course there is. There’s a brief ad break as the girls predictably freak out and keep asking if it’s an intruder. GUYS. IT CAN’T BE AN INTRUDER ON THE FIRST NIGHT. BY THAT LOGIC, YOU’RE ALL INTRUDERS!

Akoulina says the new girl was “Walking up to Matty and saying, ‘Look at me! Look at me!’”. Says the girl who literally did a ribbon dance.

So this exotic fire twirler’s name is Elora. She’s from Tahiti. So… she’s the reason we’re exempt from the white-washing complaint this year? Side note: I don’t really understand why the girls hold her coming in later as her fault. She doesn’t construct this show.

Elora actually seems nice, and Matty J says he feels a spark. THE SLOW BURN, MATTY. REMEMBER THE SLOW BURN. Leah (our lingerie-clad villain) makes a comment about Elora coming in half dressed, and the editors and producers don’t let me down and cut to a clip of Leah in her lingerie-dress. THIS IS THE SASS I’M HERE FOR.

Elora is described as “Sex on Legs” as she walks to steal Matty J from talking to…someone. Again, I have no idea who anyone is yet.

Akoulina, not one to be beaten with theatrics, does a ribbon twirl routine for the ladies to show how much better she is than Elora. Maybe she’s trying to seduce the girls? I’m at a loss to find any other reason for her behaviour.

Matty J, speaking alone with Elora, is interrupted by Meanie McMean Pants. Matty, God bless his soul, calmly offers for her to take a seat alongside them, but unfortunately Meanie gets away with it. Man, I want to see what’s been cut out of this section. McMean Pants says, “You’re going to see plenty of crazy”, referring to the other girls in the house. Matty, not skipping a beat, asks, “Is much of it coming from yourself?” My second belly laugh ensues.

Because you’re definitely wondering, here’s what I would do if I was the Bachelor: I’d write out a list of names of all the people, and divide up the time of the cocktail party with the number of people. I would then allocate a time to each individual and provide everyone with a watch. I would tell the people that I will come to them to collect them for their allotted 15 minute chat. Obviously I get why this isn’t the way they do it, and that they need the dramahhh, but honestly, how hard is a bit of organisation people?!

Anyway, in a weird montage that the intern definitely got to work on that week, we see that all the girls love Natalie the finger-sniffer. Then she does something with her leg, and for some reason this is a revelation. Quickly becoming our Villain Number Two, Jennifer asks, “What kind of woman does that? It’s grubby and dirty. I don’t act like that, because I’m a ladyyyyyyyyyy.” And I didn’t even have to exaggerate that last word, how handy. Leah, our villain number one, questions if anyone would even date Natalie. Well, it doesn’t look like you have a lot of offers either, mate. You’re on a DATING SHOW for Christ’s sake. Gosh women can be horrible to each other.

So I looked away for a second and apparently someone said someone else’s dress was awful and this is apparently a cause for tears and dramahhh. Sorry, “putrid”. Of course, Villain Number Two, Jennifer, is involved. The blonde lady, who I’m pretty sure is named Elizabeth, explains that they was mud on Jennifer’s dress and that’s why she said it was putrid. All credit to her, Natalie does a great impression of the fight, using blah blah blahs. 

Jennifer says that she doesn’t want drama because she’s not a “drama-filled person”. THIRD BELLY LAUGH. This fight couldn’t be more boring if they tried. And they are trying, very hard. A fight over a dress? Righto. We must be scraping the bottom of the barrel for this season. Jennifer ironically says Elizabeth is this year’s Keira. HOW DARE YOU STAND WHERE SHE STOOD, PEASANT! And this solidifies Jen as Villain Number 2. 

Leah (Villain Number 1. Phew, this is so exhausting) says she wants to show Matty her secret garden. AGAIN, WHAT RATING IS THIS SHOW?!

But then Matty comes from nowhere and invites Lisa to The Secret Garden. I know I’ve already said it, but she is ROCKING that jumpsuit. He says that she stood out on the red carpet, and he’s totally lost in her eyes. To be honest, Lisa seems a bit too cool for this. Matty says he can imagine her in her track pants on the couch chilling out, and I totally agree. Right, we have a front-runner.

Next, Jen has some one on one time with Matty. Michelle (our badass Police Officer) says she and Jen are different people, and I’m definitely on Michelle’s side. Don’t try to mess with a cop. She’ll win every time.

MATTY HAS GRABBED THE FIRST ROSE. I REPEAT: THE ROSE HAS BEEN GOTTENED. AND HE GIVES IT TO MICHELLE! MICHELLE WAS JUST SAYING SHE HASN’T SPOKEN TO HIM YET. OMG MICHELLE! YAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSS! So happy for her. She seems great. Another front-runner.

They’re all freaking out about the rose ceremony, as if they didn’t expect one to happen. There’s lots of scripted bitchiness from our Villain Number 1, Leah. I swear, they’re not even trying to make it sound like natural dialogue anymore. She says there’s lots of filler, and I actually agree with her. Yes, Leah. THERE IS A LOT OF FILLER. (Imagine this previous line said slowly while staring directly with wide eyes at Leah).

Oh, wow. We return from the ad break straight to the rose ceremony. Has anyone ever noticed that there is never a conclusion to the cocktail party? I assume it’s just because they film for hours and ply them with alcohol to get content and then just figure out how they’ll edit it later, but still. They could at least try to bring the storylines to some kind of conclusion before just cutting away.

Osher introduces… Matty. See, it still feels empty. Two are going home tonight, so I’m guessing two montage girls? Let’s place bets. Hmmm let’s go with Monica and Akoulina.

Dammit Akoulina got picked. Jennifer gets picked which makes sense because she’s still in disguise with Matty as Classy Dipping Girl.

The final three are Elizabeth, Monica, and Stacey. No, I don’t know who these people are either.

Elizabeth hopes that what happened with Jen didn’t cloud Matty’s judgement of her. Um, babe, I don’t think he was even there, was he? I don’t think he gives a shit.

But Elizabeth gets picked and crisis is averted. Monica and Stacey are going home. Monica’s goodbye is quite sad. She says there are some big personalities in the house, which she can’t compete with. I actually feel kind of bad for her. But unfortunately, you can’t stand out on this show without a big personality. 

Next Episode: Are they swimming naked? And… Cheerleading. Just in case the casual misogyny was too subtle.

First Episode Picks: Lisa and Michelle.