#his shoulders nose and cheeks splashed with deep brown freckles

[starwurst]

WINGMAN/ROMANTIC PARTNER

BASIC INFORMATION

Full Name: Mars Kaynich

Core Name: Skayn (only Varawn calls him this)

Age: 32

Status: Alive

Role: Varawn’s former wingman and romantic partner, now the acting squadron leader. He is the one who suggested Varawn’s callsign of “Phantom” because of how quietly Varawn walks and the number of times the Chiss accidentally scared someone just by standing behind them.

Callsign: Hurricane (Derived from Kaynich and inside joke about Mars’ level of disorganization in his room and if he tries his hand at cooking - “Looks like a Hurricane tore through here!”)

APPEARANCE

Mars is a handsome man with a square face. He has a strong jaw, cleft chin, and deep-set brown eyes. His skin, hair, and eyes are all warm toned. Freckles cover his nose, cheeks, and shoulders. His hair is a dark, almost espresso brown. It stops just a little below his ears and is almost always in a tousled, messy state as Mars is constantly occupied with other things. His method of styling his hair is essentially to splash some water on his hands and run them through it on his way out the door. He has a small scar on his lip and another going over his cheekbone and through the brow, just behind his eye. Broad shouldered and muscular, Mars maintains the athleticism that had been required of him as an infantryman despite having committed to the TIE fighter squadron quite some time ago. A clean scar runs across his bicep and a few small scars from pistol shots on his chest. There is a tattoo of the Empire’s emblem on the base of his neck, reaching down between his shoulder blades, to match the one he dared Varawn to get. He is only slightly taller than Varawn but significantly stronger.

PERSONALITY

A charming, outgoing, and reliable individual, Mars gets along with most people and is perfectly capable of being civil with the ones he dislikes until he can get away from them. He is not the best at making decisions under high pressure or improvising unless it relates to military strategy as he has had extensive training on combat scenarios. This shortcoming of his is part of what led to his impromptu, desperate proposal when Varawn decided to leave the remnant. Mars acts as a glue for the team due to his overall considerate nature and well-balanced sense of work and play. He seems to always know whether to lighten the mood or shut down nonsense to create a serious environment. He is the perfect right-hand man but never wished to be a leader, especially knowing how panicked he gets when things do not go to plan whereas Varawn is more level-headed about immediately moving on to figuring out the next step. Circling back to the example of their proposal, it was a last-ditch effort from Mars to remind Varawn of their plan and encourage him to stick to it. After all, what they wanted in the end was still the same. Mars is not afraid of new things and is a very curious person, thrilled to learn more about the Chiss from Varawn, but he does get nervous about changes that will significantly impact his life and needs to work up to them. Initiating a romantic relationship with Varawn, contemplating marriage, or even whether or not he might one day abandon the Empire and re-join his partner are all things that Mars cannot decide without serious time to find his bravery. For whatever reason, Mars has an easier time flying into battle than he ever did asking Varawn on their first date.

HISTORY

Born to an Imperial family, Mars is human like every member of the Kaynich family before him. With both parents in the Imperial military, joining up was expected of him. Spoon fed propaganda from his first breath and with a love of adrenaline, Mars did not have any objection to joining the military. Both of his parents were major generals. His father, Andelay, focused on the standard Imperial Army while his mother Marsari commanded Stormtroopers. Mars had been quite close with his parents. When they were not fighting or otherwise working, his parents would help him learn to fight and strategize through various games as well as engage with Mars’ personal interests. Mars, being quite competitive, loved being challenged by his parents and worked very hard to win against his parents. They supported him trying any ideas, praising successes and helping him workshop failures to see if they could make it work. When his parents were away for work, Mars spent his time with his eccentric uncle Adrisan. Adrisan was the family jokester, the deadbeat uncle, who was kept around due to his talent as an engineer even though he was even more notorious for drinking and causing chaos. He would take on work for the Empire now and again, fixing things or drafting up tech for them, but would have preferred it if some institute would fund his personal projects instead. From his uncle, Mars got his sense of humor and a love of making things. He will make little things out of scrap metal and enjoys puzzles that need to be solved by moving a variety of parts. A few years before Mars entered the military to begin training, both of his parents were killed in action and received posthumous honors. He relied on his uncle for support when training began and the others viewed him as meritless/a nepotism selection due to his family having a legacy of military service in the Empire. It was overcoming this judgment that aided him when some years later, he was asked to look after Mava’raw’nrarda and helped the Chiss navigate the xenophobia of other students. Though they were targeted in different ways and for different reasons, Mars was able to provide support and offer methods of handling unpleasant situations.

RELATIONSHIP

Mars had been in some brief relationships prior to Varawn. They began as friends after Mars helped show Varawn the ropes of being an Imperial and their friendship deepened when they later went through pilot training together. They had a very strong foundation of friendship by the time their relationship turned romantic, initiated by Mars after significant deliberation. While they did not actively keep their relationship secret, they both preferred to keep any physical affection a private affair. Mars takes great pleasure in affectionate, lighthearted teasing much to Varawn’s eternal suffering, as he finds it amusing but incredibly distracting if not also rather embarrassing. While Mars tends to show his love through verbal affirmation and quality time, Varawn had no frame of reference outside of his parents’ questionable relationship and therefore believes that the best way for him tell Mars he loves him is not actually to tell him, but through acts of service and gifts. It took a bit of adjusting in the beginning but they came to understand one another’s methods. Mars is significantly more open about his feelings than Varawn, but knows Varawn is working on it. Especially given everything Mars has heard about his partner’s upbringing, he does his best to be patient and understanding. While Mars is the one that taught Varawn to love and helps him open up and show a softer, more relaxed side of him where he can be himself and speak freely, Varawn in turn provides a more stable and focused energy during the times when Mars feels like he can’t handle anymore pressure. The two were in agreement about their futures plan, to get married once the fighting calmed down or preferably stopped. They were either going to find a peaceful planet to settle on or travel planet to planet hauling goods. When Varawn finally came clean about his guilt over the attack on Tatooine and displeasure at the direction the remnant was going, however, Mars did not not know what to say or do. The intensity of those feelings and Varawn’s already made decision to leave overwhelmed him. He wanted to stick to the plan, but the Empire was everything he knew. The only thing he had. Mars always assumed either the Empire would have won and then they’d settle down or they’d switch to a job off the frontlines together. The fear of losing Varawn, the panic at their plan crumbling before his eyes, the reluctance to give up the only life he’d ever known, and the sense of betrayal when Varawn actually left without him… Mars was devastated. But in the end, he still loves Varawn and they still want the same thing in the end – a life together. His proposal was a desperate attempt to get that. And yet, even after this, when it came down to it Mars chose to protect Varawn. To conceal what he could from Hilcox, even when he was questioned with less than polite methods. Despite the pain and hurt, both of them still do love each other, but what Mars would do first if he were to see Varawn again is something Mars himself isn’t even sure about. Part of him wants to work up the courage to leave and find his lover. Part of him wants to knock Varawn on his ass for leaving the way he did. Part of him just wants Varawn to come back and beg Hilcox’s forgiveness so things can return to the way they were, even though he knows that can’t happen.

CURRENT SITUATION AT START OF CAMPAIGN

After Varawn stole a ship and abandoned the Empire in the middle of the night, Mars was brought in for questioning and once Hilcox and company were confident that he truly knew nothing about where Varawn went, they let him go. Bruised and bloodied. Despite the fact he had been in a romantic relationship with a traitor and still clearly loved him, as Mars tried to lessen the blow and pretend he didn’t even know Varawn left or why Varawn left, Mars was permitted to replace Varawn as the current squadron leader but under close supervision. Even despite the fact Mars struggles with leadership and making snap decisions when plans fail, something he works to mitigate by making back-up plans for his back-up plans. In the end, despite the borderline torture he was subjected to on account of his partner defecting, Mars genuinely did not know anything besides that Varawn left because he did not approve of the direction Hilcox had taken thing and as far as he knew, Varawn was not going to come back. This is likely what saved him, the fact he honestly could not speak to Varawn’s plans and, as he openly admitted when pressed about the possibility of leaving with Varawn, the Empire was his life and he had nowhere else to go. The aggressive questioning did not help Mars’ resentment over Varawn leaving and he never wanted to lead the squadron, he was simply the best choice out of those left in the remnant for his talent as a pilot alongside the fact the whole team loves and respects him.

[dayzone]

actually.. if you think about it... andrew surfer bro but with knives

i think the spears lived in cali ?? but if i’m wrong au where they lived in cali and richard spear loved to surf, had tons of boards and taught drew how to surf.

once richard deems andrew Proficient he tells drew he can go wild, remembering when he was a kid and spent sunrise to sundown on the beach with friends

he knows drew doesn’t have many, if any, friends so he thinks this could be a way for him to connect bc a lot of kids surf in their beach front town

andrew won’t admit it but he loves surfing, it’s an escape, there’s no expectations, no one expects him to hold a conversation or “open up” if he’s too busy in the ocean catching waves or just sitting on his board on a calm day

it helps to escape... everything else too, he can let his mind go blank and only focus on riding waves and not drowning

drew has a respect for the ocean, knows how easily he could get lost in it, so he can’t let his mind wander when he’s out there

surfing is something he doesn’t admit to missing but he does prefer it over exy

everyone always has something to say about how he plays exy but surfing is just something that’s his

flash forward a few years, say his third year at psu, and no one except andrew knows about his interest in surfing

until kevin and neil drag him to cali to catch up with jean and jeremy

eventually jeremy and andrew agree to let kevin, neil, and jean spend time together by themselves and somehow they end up on the beach together, andrew in a borrowed wetsuit and a board tucked under his arm

jeremy had, almost jokingly, suggested that they kill time by jeremy teaching drew to surf and drew just.... takes the chance and asks if jeremy has an extra shortboard

and that’s how jeremy learns that andrew minyard is actually pretty good on a surfboard

in the years before andrew tells kevin and neil that he can surf, andrew and jeremy have a silent tradition of spending time together in the ocean while the other three do their own thing, and neither andrew nor jeremy tell anyone what exactly it is the two of them sneak off to do

years later andrew tells kevin and neil who taught him how to surf after a very memorable beach day

[arcadia-city-stories-if]

Arcadia City (WIP)

Welcome to Arcadia City!

Touted as a modern day utopia, where everything is achievable and anything is possible, the largest free city state to ever exist has become a beacon of progress and technological advancement that has stepped to the forefront of global importance after an exponential boom in population in the last few decades.

Frequently referred to as the 8th Wonder of the World, will the city live up to its highly polished reputation? Or can a city that is 90% owned by shady corporations, taking advantage of the city's unique laws and loopholes, truly have anything other than the seediest of underbellies?

Plot

Play as a small town deputy sheriff who, after a surprise run-in with a supernatural creature, somewhat impulsively accepted a job with the not-at-all suspiciously vague 'Agency' that had mysteriously shown up in the forest immediately following your little moonlit encounter.

Eager to get away from the home town you've never left, and the bad memories trapping you there, you're now moving half way across the world to start afresh in the most infamous city in the world, to work for a governmental agency that most people don’t even believe exists.

Whether or not you're just jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire is yet to be seen.

Features:

Customise your name, gender, appearance, skill-set and personality.

Explore 5 romance options, 2 of them gender selectable, with both human and supernatural beings.

Tactfully avoid the mystery 6th partial romance route that would definitely, without a doubt, be a mistake to succumb to.

Choices matter. Find your way as your world becomes bigger, both literally and figuratively, than you ever could have imagined.

Get settled into your new job, explore the city, and maybe solve a mystery or two along the way.

| Contains graphic descriptions of violence, grief, physical and verbal abuse, mild body horror and sexual situations | Rated 18+ |

Demo (TBA) | RO Appearances | Ro Playlists |

RO’s under the cut!

Harrison Murphy, early 30's. (m)

-The New Partner-

Abnormally tall, he has dark eyes and sandy brown hair that's slightly too long to be considered professional.

Sporting a pleasant farmers tan, he'd probably be traditionally good looking if it wasn't for the constant 5 o'clock shadow, a nose that's clearly been broken more than once, and the perpetual scowl he wears which may, or may not, have something to do with the endless supply of nicotine gum he's currently getting through a day.

Even with his gruff nature the man is surprisingly well liked across the city, and always willing to go the extra mile for those he considers a friend.

Shae Amana, 30. (nb)

-The Government Handler-

Just shy of 5'9, with an accent so neutral you're convinced it can't be genuine. They have long (dyed) dark silver hair, light blue eyes and deep golden skin, with splashes of freckles across their cheeks, among other places.

They have horrendous eyesight but are too squeamish for contacts so they'll never be seen without their glasses in place. They're new to leadership and that anxiety shows at times.

They have some curious tattoos and there seems to be more to them but you haven't figured out what yet.

Callie Redwood, 25. (f)

-The Lycan Wildchild-

Exactly 5'5, with rich brown skin, bright grey green eyes, and a permanently fixed youthful grin, most people would be tempted to believe Callie to be harmless. Those people would be making a mistake.

Her mess of loose dark curls are irregularly cut, half tied back with some attempt to tame it with a variety of pins, making her easily recognisable even at a distance. If all else fails, the constant collection of bandages and minor injuries she accumulates will always set her apart from the crowd.

She has a childish eagerness at times, with zero filter on what she says and a hairtrigger on her temper, times are never boring around her.

Toni Dynbane, 28. (m/f/nb)

-The Nocturnal Neighbour-

5'11, when they're not slouching. Messy shoulder length dark hair and hazel eyes that are strikingly pretty, even with the accompanying red-eye that's constantly in place.

Between their weed habit and their sleeping patterns, it's clear they're going through something, though they don't seem eager to open up about whatever it is.

With an easygoing attitude and an ear always free if you need it, there are definitely worse people you could have been neighbours with.

Claude/Claudia Valentius, ?? (m/f)

-The Executive Vampyr-

With a long and prosperous lineage, expectations on the newest head of their House are ludicrously high. Tall, dark skinned with ethereal golden eyes, everything about them just screams fancy vampire.

Always dressed immaculately, they're doing their best to keep a cool demeanour while trying to change the Old World ways they feel like their family is stuck in.

With a life full of soulless business suits and untrustworthy family members who definitely don't have their best interests at heart, they've almost forgotten what it's like to have anyone who means more than that in their life.

??? (he/they)

-The Wrong Choice-

Would be a terrible idea on your part to pursue this one. Do not recommend.

[howtobangyourmonster]

TomTom the Minotaur, Pt. 1

Minotaur man with human woman, vaginal fingering

When attempting to traverse an eldritch forest hell bent on leading you astray, it's vital to hire a guide with an excellent sense of direction. It's less vital that he be charming and sexy, but it sure helps pass the time.

“Worth every penny.” That's what his reviews say.

Seeing him in person, I feel less anxious about the journey ahead. Tall and broad, his skin a gorgeous dark brown speckled over in white freckles like stars, horns gleaming and wickedly curved and broad as his shoulders. He'd be intimidating if it wasn't for the kindness of his face. He's damn handsome, but that's not why I hired him. Well, not the only reason.

His mouth curves in an easy smile as I approach. He looks down at me as he finishes rolling the sleeves of his plaid button-down up, revealing the sculpted muscles of his massive forearms. “You must be Stella.”

I shake his hand, my own completely swallowed in his, though his grip is gentle and warm. “Yes, and you're Tom?”

“Yes, ma'am. Your email said this is your first time crossing the Briarwood?” he asks, friendly brown eyes crinkled at the corners in polite curiosity.

“It is, and I'm pretty nervous about it actually.” I admit.

“Understandable, it's a very disorienting place, especially for humans. I'll get you through it, don't you worry. My family has been guiding people through for generations, I practically grew up in there. I've never lost a traveler.”

His confidence is earned; he's legendary even among guides and has the rating to prove it on NaviGate. His services have the price tag to match. Too many people try to cross on their own, or turn to disreputable-but-cheap “guides” who most likely ditch their charges and pocket the money. Disappearances are commonplace. I don't want that to be me.

“I'm counting on your reputation's accuracy, TomTom.” I smirk.

“Are they still calling me that?” he grimaces, one hand rubbing the back of his neck(and putting his glorious biceps on display). “Embarrassing nicknames aside, I don't want you to worry. I'm taking you the safest way though the woods. It's the slowest route, but we won't run into trouble. Should be very boring.”

“Boring is good! I've got all my gear,” I gesture with my head to the large camping backpack I'm sporting. “I'm trying to just think of it as a long camping trip.”

“That's good, that's basically what it is. We're not getting anywhere near any settlements or dens in there, we shouldn't see anyone else the whole time. I hope you brought something to keep you entertained.”

“I've got a bunch of digital books and podcasts downloaded, and a solar battery. And a couple print books.”

“Good call, sometimes the sun doesn't break through the canopy for a few days.” Tom hefts his own massive pack onto his back, hooking his thumbs into the straps. “Shall we?”

I follow him as we take our first steps onto the trailhead that, with his help, should deliver me safely through the Briarwoods, one month from now.

“I kinda expected it to be more...creepy in here.” I say.

Tom chuckles. “Yeah, I hear that a lot. I think it would actually be less sinister if it did look more creepy and dark and gloomy. It's not just that the path shifts and changes, it's that the forest tries to distract you as well as disorient. Like...look up ahead there.”

He points off to the left, up along the trail, to a meadow of golden grass waving in a gentle breeze. The edges of the meadow disappear into a grove of quaking aspen trees, leaves shimmering like golden coins as they catch the light. Suddenly, the whisper of wings reaches me as hundreds of iridescent green butterflies rise from the meadow in a dazzling display of color.

“...Wow.” I breathe.

“Yeah. It's pretty. And absolutely a trap. You set one foot in there, you'll be asleep in seconds.”

I peek into the grass as we pass the meadow, making sure to keep my feet well within the trail. I see bones poking out of the dark earth, and a sunbleached skull staring eyeless at the sky. With a shudder, I turn back to Tom.

The first week of our journey is pretty straightforward. He points out the forest's traps and lures to me. After one incident where I nearly wandered off, following some windswept notes of birdsong(“That wasn't a bird...” he warns), Tom takes to holding my hand as we walk through particularly dangerous stretches of the trail. I certainly don't mind. At night he sleeps in front of the entrance to our shared tent, to keep me from wandering off without waking him. When it happens, he turns me back to my sleeping bag and gently hushes me until I lay back down and sleep. And then teases me mercilessly in the morning.

“If you're so keen on a night stroll, just wake me up, I'd be happy to keep you company.” he winks.

“It's not my fault! It's the damn sirens!” I laugh.

“They're not really sirens.” Tom says. “It's just the forest trying to trick you.”

We're sharing a meal during a lunch rest in a rather lovely spot next to a river. The sun has actually made an appearance today, so I have my solar charger out.

“What's the scariest thing you've ever encountered in the forest?” I ask.

Tom is very still for a while, brow furrowed as he considers his answer. “I think...the scariest times are when the forest has gotten to know you, and it knows what you're afraid of, and it uses that against you.”

He says this very quietly, with the manner of someone who speaks from experience. I don't pry further.

The river is safe, he says, and clear. We take the opportunity to wash clothes and refill canteens.

“Do we have to get back on the trail, or can I wash? I feel pretty grimy...”

“You set the pace, Stella, I'm just here to keep you out of trouble.” he grins. “I wouldn't mind getting clean either. You go ahead first, I'll keep my back to the water, and you just keep talking to me so I know you're alright.”

“Such a gentleman, respecting my modesty.” I tease. I peel off my trail clothes from that morning and give them a quick wash, hanging them up to dry on the line with the other clothes, while I chat with Tom's back. The water is cold and bracing, but invigorating.

“It'll be a few days before we come across another safe water source.” Tom says. “There's a spring we should run into tomorrow but you can absolutely not touch it.”

I drag my nails through my hair, raking the dirt and debris out of it before rinsing it in the river. “Is it cursed? Haunted?”

“It's a mouth.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

I dry off with the superabsorbent camping towel I bought for this trip, slip on my pajama shorts and a tshirt, and join Tom where he sits on a log. “Your turn!”

Tom stands and steps back over the log toward the river. I keep my back to him as he strips off his shirt, but my curiosity gets the better of me and I glance back over my shoulder. He bends down to take off his boots, and I take in the sight of his impressive backside straining the seams of his jeans. I'm lost in daydreams when he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of the jeans and pushes them down around his hips, taking his briefs with them. The lines of muscle in his back, the play of light and shadow over the planes and curves of his body are stunning. He bends down to remove the clothes and catches me staring, doing a double-take at my expression.

“Hey, what about my modesty?” he asks with a cheeky grin, one eyebrow lifted in challenge.

I whip my head back around, cheeks burning. “I'm sorry, that was...so inappropriate of me!”

He laughs, voice like warm caramel. “Minotaurs bathe communally, I'm not shy.”

I keep my eyes focused on my shoes. “I went to a minotaur-owned bathhouse in Alberta with my mom once.”

I cringe. Why did I feel the need to say that?

“Yeah? What did you think?” he asks.

“It was nice, I really loved the olive oil soaps.”

“I have some in my pack, can you fish one out for me?”

My mind short-circuits for a second. I dig through the pockets of Tom's pack until I find one of the small bars. When I turn to face Tom, my mouth goes dry.

He's standing hip-deep in the river, sunlight reflecting off the water and making his rich sable coat glisten. His head is tipped back, arms up as he arches his back, and it's obvious he's putting on a show for me. So I indulge myself, and let my eyes trail over his biceps, his horns, the thick corded muscles of his neck, rivulets of water dripping down his body. The firm planes of his abs ripple under the smooth skin that replaces the coat of his shoulders and back. Those white starry freckles splash here, too, and I follow their trail down to a thicker nest of hair where his hips meet the water.

When I manage to drag my eyes back up to his face, he's watching me with amusement.

“I love the way your skin pinks like that when you're embarrassed.” his voice is a deep rumble. He tips his head down to look at me, the gold rings in his ears and nose sparkling at me. “Or...maybe you're turned on, not embarrassed at all.”

Feeling bold, I wade into the river, not caring that my shorts and tee are now soaked and clinging to my skin. From the way Tom is staring, he doesn't care either. I hold out the soap.

“Did you need this?”

“Thanks.” he plucks the soap from my hand, lathers it up, and begins working the suds over his chest, never breaking eye contact. “Your clothes are all wet, Stella. You should hang them up to dry.”

I consider the implications for a moment, before deliberately turning away and wading back to the shore, acutely aware of my clothes clinging to the curves of my ass, my breasts. I peel them off, bending at the waist with my ass directed Tom's way, and I'm rewarded with his deep rumble of approval. Straightening, I wring the clothes out and hang them on the line, glancing over my shoulder at Tom. He's washing his arms, flexing them more than is strictly necessary.

In for a penny, in for a pound...

I wade back out to him and hold my hand out for the soap. “Looks like you could use a hand?”

The smile he graces me with is wickedness incarnate. “Obliged, ma'am.”

I lather up the soap in my hands and move around him to his back, running my hands up along his spine and fanning them out over his shoulders, as high as I can reach. He makes a pleased sound, deep in his chest, as I massage the soap into his shoulders, where his coat is thicker. I use my nails to rake the soap through, gratified as his head tips back and he moans. Moving on, I scrub down his back, appreciating how hard his muscles feel under my hands. I palm his firm ass and he laughs over his shoulder at me.

“Enjoying the view?”

“Extremely so. Are you typically so hands-on with your clients?” I ask.

“Are you this hands-on with all your guides?” he counters.

“Only when they're as gorgeous as you.”

“So not frequently then.” he says. I laugh at his brazen confidence, deserved though it is. “Here, let me.”

He gently turns me around and massages the soap into my back, his large hands feel heavenly as they work out the knots and soreness in my muscles from a week of sleeping on a camp cot. I moan and lean into his touch.

“I like that sound. I'd like to make you make it again.” he says, digging his thumb into a stubborn muscle. I moan louder, my knees nearly buckling. I can feel his cock hardening against my back. His voice is low and heavy with promise in my ear. “I'd like to do a lot of things, if you're interested...”

I reach up and take hold of his hands, pulling them around to my breasts. He kneads them, slippery with soap, thumbs brushing over my nipples until they peak.

He reaches one hand down below the water and brushes his fingers between my legs, a tentative questioning touch. I nod eagerly and spread my legs more to allow him access. Tom uses his other hand to guide my arms up around his neck, my back arched and pressed to his chest.

“Hold onto me.” he whispers as his fingers slip between my folds and find my clit. I whimper as he starts rubbing small, slow circles. His cock is hard and hot against my back as I buck my hips into his hand. His other hand reaches under my thigh to lift up my leg, spreading me further. “I've got you, I won't let you slip.”

I let go of his shoulders and grab onto his horns as he bends his head over me to kiss the top of my head. The finger on my clit pauses to push back the hood, then resumes its assault. The increased sensation has me crying out, emboldened by our solitude.

“Fuck, I'm so close, Tom...”

He slips a finger inside me, slowly working me open on his hand, then adds another. The stretch combined with the pressure on my clit is deliciously agonizing. I'm only dimly aware that I'm begging him to fuck me.

“Oh, you're not ready for that, Stella. Not yet.” he says, pumping his fingers in and out of me with deft turns of his wrist. “Need to work up to taking my cock, don't wanna hurt you.”

I whimper. “Please, I need more...”

Tom works his fingers deeper and faster, dragging them against the sweet spot inside me that has me seeing stars, and I come gasping. He slowly works me through it, whispering how good I feel spasming around his fingers, how he wishes it was his cock, how he wants to watch me ride him.

I'm limp as he lifts me out of the water and carries me back to the shore, the soap long forgotten and lost downriver. He balances me on one of his massive thighs as he digs in his pack for a towel to lay out, then lays me down on it.

“Wait, you didn't come.” I protest, reaching out for him.

“You can make it up to me later.” he winks. I watch him take down our dry clothes and the clothesline, pulling on his fresh clothes and boots. He brings me a change of clothes and helps me pull them on. “How're your muscles feeling?”

“They feel great.” I admit with a lazy smile. “You have some magic hands.”

“I look forward to showing you what else I can do.” Tom helps me shoulder my pack and we continue down the trail, away from the river's edge and into the deeper woods.

[brendaaaa]

Best Summer Ever (Max Mayfield x fem!Reader)

“This is gonna be the best summer ever!“ Lucas pumped his fist into the air.

He let out a whoop and cannon-balled into the pool, screaming as he went.

“Oh god,” Will covered his eyes. “He’s going to kill himself.”

“Ah, don’t worry, Will the wise,” Mike set a hand on the shorter boy’s shoulder. “He’s fine.”

You peered over the edge, into the pool. “It looks pretty deep.”

You hated deep water. It was pretty much an irrational fear. There was nothing that was going to get you in that water.

You looked over at your girlfriend, Maxine. She was looking hot as ever, with her long red hair in a messy bun and her freckles sprinkled across her sun kissed face. She wore a red bikini, a good look on her, you had to admit.

You look back at the water. It was dark blue, intimidating.

The party was situated in the backyard of Kimmy Taylor, Robin’s super cool (and rich) girlfriend. She absolutely loved the ‘children’ when Robin introduced them, and because Kimmy would be working, she had generously offered her pool to the kids for the summer.

It was pretty awesome, except for the fact that you were scared silly of deep water.

“Hey, El!” Dustin called out, running over to pick up the brunette girl, “let’s get in the water!”

He ran over to the edge of the pool, Eleven shrieking, pretending to be terrified although anyone could tell she wasn’t really, and jumped.

The two made a huge splash when they entered the water, and you shielded your face, although the rest of your body got soaked.

They came up laughing, and smiling.

You grinned too, as their smiles were the most contagious ever, and watched as Will and Mike jumped in as well.

Lucas, already in the water, came up from behind the two boys and started splashing them.

Everyone in the water started hurling water at the others, and it was actually pretty funny for you to watch.

“Hey love,” a voice said in your ear, and you felt soft arms wrap around your middle.

You blushed, and turned to look at your favorite girl. She rested her head on your shoulder, blue eyes smiling up at you.

“We should get in.”

“Wha-?” You said, not really hearing what she had said. Her beautiful face was too distracting.

“I said,” she crinkled up her nose, “we should get in.”

You paled slightly as you realized what she was talking about.

“Uh, no. I- I can’t,” you looked away, breaking eye contact.

“Aw why not love?” She whined, placing her cold hand on your jaw and turning your head back to face her.

You shivered slightly and looked at the pool. It looked like a blue pit. Deep, dark, and ominous.

“I don’t know…” you mumbled.

“Why not?” She said again. “It’s so hot outside. I mean c’mon y/n, I know you wore that bathing suit just for me…,” she said with a smirk, and you reddened, looking down at your rather skimpy one piece, and she continued, “But you wore it to swim too, right?”

Well, yes. But you didn’t know that the pool was going to be this deep!

Aloud you said, “Yeah...I guess,” not wanting to disappoint Max.

“Alright let’s get in then!” She said cheerily, and shook her flip flops off her feet.

You gulped, eyeing the water suspiciously.

“I- I can’t,” you said nervously.

“Oh sure you can,” Max rolled her eyes, “it’s just water, y/n!”

You opened your mouth to say something, and then closed it. As much as you wanted to please her, you knew that there was absolutely no way you were getting in that pool.

No way. You would stay perfectly nice and dry today, thank you very much.

Ironically, just after that thought, your lovely babe decided it would be fun if she pushed you into the pool.

You screamed, flailing your arms as you tumbled down towards the water.

The party all turned to look, some laughing, some smiling, but none appearing distressed.

You belly flopped in, creating a loud smacking sound as you were submerged in the water.

The water was cold, and even though it was miserably hot outside, it was not refreshing or nice at all.

It was freezing and miserable.

You realized with a jolt of panic that you were sinking to the bottom, like a rock.

Your cheeks puffed outwards, trying to hold your breath in, as well as the scream that was just dying to come out.

You kicked upwards quickly, propelling your arms around, trying to get back up to the surface desperately.

It wasn’t that far to the top, and soon you were gasping and coughing up water. Max plopped into the water next you, and wrapped her arms around you.

She leaned her forehead against yours, a smile tugging at her lips.

“Nice in here, right?”

You shook your head wildly, a few tears slipping down your cheeks.

“No, no. I want to get out. Right now!” You hiccuped, still kicking your legs back and forth aggressively, trying to tread water and stay afloat.

Max frowned, a bit concerned by your reaction, “okay…” she said slowly.

She pulled herself out first, and reached a hand out to help you get out. All of a sudden she stopped, peering at you.

“Y/n, are you scared of water?” She asked.

Well yeah, no shit.

You glared at her, “What do you think?”

“I-“

“Yes!” You cried out. “Yes! Of course I’m scared of water, why do you think I didn’t want to jump in?!”

She stared at you, a little unsure of what to say.

“You pushed me in! Why would you do that?!” You cried.

“Y/n,” she started, hands on her knees.

“Get me out!!!” You screeched. “Right now!!”

“Okay okay,” she grabbed your forearms, and pulled you out of the pool, dripping wet.

“You wanna, um, go inside?”

You nodded, huffing.

“Okay, uh, you can do that then. Um, y/n I’m really sorry,” she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I swear if you’d just told me I would’ve never pushed you in,” she said sincerely.

You wiped your face off with your hand.

“I’m going inside,” you said stiffly, and marched off.

The rest of the party watched open mouthed, confused at the scene that had just unfolded.

You stomped into Kimmy’s house, flopping your wet body onto the couch. You groaned, feeling frustrated at your girlfriend and at yourself.

It was dumb that you got so upset with Max. She didn’t mean to push you in. She wasn’t that type of person.

Ugh. Why didn’t you just tell her that you were scared?! Why did your pride have to get in the way?

You groaned again, and clapped a hand over your forehead, covering your eyes from the light flowing through the window.

You surveyed the room. It was pretty nice, with some expensive furniture. Everyone’s clothes were scattered amongst the floor. Your eyes honed in on Max’s purple sweatshirt and brown shorts.

You smirked, getting an idea.

You pulled yourself off the couch, and closed the blinds on the window.

…..

“Is it just me, or did that pool get warmer as we swam in it?” you heard Dustin’s voice.

You were flopped in an armchair, watching tv and cuddled up in an afghan. It was surprisingly cold in the house, due to the air conditioning working overtime in the hot summer heat.

“You were probably just pissing in the pool,” Max retorted.

“Shut up Max,” Mike said. “We just probably got used to the water,” you heard him say to Dustin.

All of the party had shuffled in at this point. They all looked freezing cold, wrapped up in only their swimsuits and towels, shivering in the ac-blasted house.

“Hi, Y/n,” Max said, rather shyly.

You remembered that she probably thought you were still mad at her.

“Hi,” you said, giving her your warmest smile.

She smiled back, looking down at the ground. At least now she knew that you weren’t mad.

“So, who wants some pizza?” Lucas stretched out his arms, “I’m tired, and hungry as fuck.”

“Me too,” El piped up. “Can we get hawaiian please?” She gave Max her best doe eyes.

“Ah fine,” your girlfriend muttered, walking over to the phone.

She picked it up and started to dial the number. Growing up as a teen in the 80s, it was mandatory that you all had the pizza place’s number memorized. You never knew when you might need some fuel, or a pick-me-up.

Max turned back to look at El as she held the receiver up to her ear, “But don’t get that nasty fruit stuff anywhere near me,” she threatened, twirling the cord.

“I won’t,” Eleven smiled. Everyone knew that Max hated pineapple on pizza with a passion.

Max gave the order, and you, El, and the boys pulled out some board games to keep you busy while waiting on dinner.

The seven of you set up the candyland board.

“Why are we playing this?” Lucas deadpanned.

“Cause it’s fun,” Dustin countered.

“It’s a childhood classic,” Will insisted.

“You can cheat,” Mike smirked.

“Queen Frostine is sexy,” Max shrugged.

“It’s so FUN!” El beamed.

“I dunno,” you said. “But everyone else seems to like it.”

Lucas groaned, “Fine. But I better win,” he grinned, and flipped over the first card.

“Hey,” Will complained. “You don’t get to go first! The youngest always gets to first!”

“Yeah,” you laughed. “That’s me!”

And so the party played a rather uneventful game of candyland. Dustin won.

Knock knock knock.

Everyone looked up.

“Pizzaaaaaa,” Dustin said in a whisper, rubbing his hands together.

“I’ll get it!” You offered, standing up, and letting the afghan fall away from your body.

Max smiled at you, then a double take.

“Uh...y/n, are you? Wait a minute…” she eyed you suspiciously. “Are you wearing my clothes?”

“Caught me!” You laughed, and ran off to go meet the delivery guy.

“Hey!” She hollered. “Don’t think you get away that easy!” She was smiling, shaking her head.

“Get back here y/n!”, she giggled.

You ran, laughing and out of breath, to the door. You opened it up, and smiled at the short brunette pizza guy.

“Uh, three pepperonis and one hawaiian?” He confirmed.

“Ding ding ding,” you winked at him, and set the pizzas on the table right beside the door.

“Gotcha,” you felt Max hug from behind. You turned around, and kissed her cheek. “Hang on, I’m paying this dude.”

“Oh no no,” she said, smiling. “You, you are wearing my clothes! Why?” She touched the tip of her nose to yours, scrunching her nose.

You blushed, “Cause...I want to?”

“You look good, miss girl,” she whispered.

You coughed, and turned to the pizza boy and said, “Pay you back later?” as Max started to kiss you.

“Uh, excuse me-” he was cut off by you slamming the door in his face.

You laughed into Max’s lips, “You know, Lucas really was right.”

“What?” Max asked between kisses.

“This...is gonna be the best summer ever!”

Word Count: 1,877

[onlydreamofmysoul]

Let Them Eat Cake: The Final

We made it! I want to thank you guys so so much for the fantastic support you've given this story, it means the world to me. Bake Off has a special place in my heart and so does this fic, so its been so great to share it with you all!

(Links to all previous chapters can be found pinned on my page under 'Let Them Eat Cake' or pop over to my AO3 - link in bio)

Without further ado, I give you... The Final!

This week on the final of The Great British Bake Off…

“It looks like you’re having a smashing time.”

“Tell us about your first kiss.”

“And the winner is…”

Remus Lupin was having a nice morning.

There had been nothing of interest to note, however he didn’t have an alarm blaring and he was warm and snuggly, so all in all, he took it as a win.

Until one Lily Evans took it upon herself to sneak into his room and throw herself on him like she was a kid on Christmas morning.

“Finals, finals, finals!” She exclaimed, managing to find a tone that was somehow both singing and chanting all at once.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Remus groaned, covering his eyes with his forearms. “Can I go back in time and just never apply to this fucking competition?”

Lily rolled off him, her big green eyes staring at him concerned. “What's the matter? Do you not want to be here?”

Remus peeked out at her. “No, I don’t want you to be here.” He smirked as she rolled her eyes, flopping back on the pillows next to him.

“Asshat.” She grumbled, hitting his shoulder with a light ‘thwack’. “I was worried for a sec.”

Remus grinned at her and then stared up at the ceiling for a long moment, only the sounds of their breathing and his heartbeat in his ears to keep him company.

Finals, they had made it to the finals.

He still couldn’t quite believe it. “Welcome to the finals.” McGonagall had said to him just before he left the tent, the words playing over and over again in his head, as clear as if she had said them yesterday.

(Which in fact, she had. This was the first time Remus would go to the practice tent and Tonks wouldn’t be there, but there was still an undeniable elation blossoming in his chest).

Five days until filming resumed. Six until the winner was announced. It didn’t seem real.

(But if this were a fantasy, Remus never wanted to return to reality).

“So where’s Sirius on this fine morning?” Lily asked, breaking the silence. Remus turned his head to look at her, completely relaxed and sinking into the bed. It would seem his lazy morning mood had seeped into her instead of her vibrant energy going to him.

“We’re not together every night.” He said, looking at the freckles splashed across her nose. They were darker now than they had been when they arrived. “We’re taking things slow.”

Lily just stared at him sceptically.

“It’s true!” He defenced. “We are!”

“You’re such a bad liar.”

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

Remus groaned and smacked her with a pillow. Victory.

“You never answered the question.” Lily said, muffled under the cushion. Or maybe victory had another champion in mind.

“Okay yes, he’s here most nights, but it doesn’t feel fast.” He defended, and it was true. Somehow it felt almost like they had known each other forever and yet still there was the thrill and excitement that came with everything being so new.

“It doesn’t seem fast either.” Lily reassured. “Maybe for others it would be, but I think it’s right for you two.”

Remus let out a little breath of relief. He hadn’t been worried exactly, but his thoughts had slipped in that direction a few times. More than anything, he just worried about scaring Sirius off, while still feeling secure in himself? Remus really didn’t know, the emotion centre of his body was really sending out mixed signals these days.

He had just decided to say fuck it to logic and stick to how he felt. And he felt good. Really good.

“Not that this little revelation wasn’t nice,” Lily said, “But you still haven’t answered the question I asked. Little tip? If this baking thing doesn’t work out, definitely don’t become a spy. If you were captured you’d accidentally reveal all the information without them even having to ask you.”

Remus groaned. “I hate you. He and James were hanging out last night.”

Lily grinned, satisfied and gave Remus another little shove. “Okay, come on I wanna go bake.”

“You’d think you’d have enough baking for a lifetime.” Remus grumbled but he got up all the same. In actuality, now that he was awake, Remus too was buzzing to get into the tent and get to work. “What’re you planning for this week?” He asked as he threw on a pair of jeans and a hoodie, having taken a shower the night before.

“I can’t give away my secrets!” Lily teased, holding open the door as Remus grabbed his key and they both swept out of the room and down the plush carpeted corridor.

“You are aware I’m gonna find out either way right? Cause if you still haven’t grasped that concept then I’m a little worried to be-”

“Oh hush,” Lily laughed, pressing her palm to Remus’ mouth. “I’m still not a hundred percent sure to be honest.”

They stepped outside, the cool crisp air falling over them, revitalizing them. Remus tucked his hands into his pockets and felt his shoulders hunch a little. His lungs liked the cold, the rest of his body - not so much.

“I’m not sure if I know what I’m doing either.” He admitted. “I have a few ideas, but none of them feel quite right, you know?”

Lily nodded as they reached the practice tent, pulling open the door. “Yeah I think that’s my issue too. There’s suddenly so much pressure and nothing I consider seems to be good enough.”

Remus sighed as he pulled two aprons off the hooks and tossed one to Lily. “I suppose we’ll have to figure it out.” He said, before taking out the recipe cards he had brought with him and began flicking through them for inspiration.

Five days. He could do this.

“Well, well, well, look who we have here.” Remus said with a grin as he trod through the grass, rounding the big oak tree to see Sirius waiting on their swing.

“I know,” Sirius drawled. “It’s almost like we planned it.”

Remus smiled, sitting by his side, holding the rope in one hand as he held out a Tupperware encased offering. “Want some cake?”

Sirius took the box gladly, his hair tied up but the wind had claimed a few loose strands, whipping them around his face like a dark halo. “Always. What kind?”

Remus tucked one foot into his chest, resting his cheek on his knee as he studied the other man. “Try it and find out.”

Sirius' lips quirked at Remus’ teasing tone, looking at the deep brown colour that really could only be one flavour. “Elderflower?” He joked.

Remus laughed and took a bite himself before holding out to Sirius. “Yes,” He said, completely deadpan. “That’s exactly what it is.”

Sirius smiled and kissed him, biting his lip as he pulled away. “You taste like chocolate.”

Remus flushed. “Don’t you mean elderflower?”

Sirius chuckled, rocking the swing a little more, tilting his head back to look at the twisting branches above them. “Look,” He murmured, pointing to a clump of twigs high in the tree. “A bird's nest.” Remus followed his line of sight and watched as a bird swooped overhead and landed in it gracefully.

“That was kinda cool.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t shit on us.”

“Sirius!” Remus exclaimed, elbowing the other man as he laughed. “Let’s hope your hair can take the hit and shield us.”

“Oi! My hair is what should be protected at all costs, it’s a national treasure. You know, I think I should replace you with Tonks, she knows the importance of hair care.”

Remus smiled, resting his head on Sirius’ shoulder, the fabric of his jacket soft against his cheek. “Tell me something I don't know about you.”

The wind whipped through the branches, but Remus wasn’t cold pressed up against Sirius. The tree sheltered them from the worst of it and the weather was slowly getting a little warmer, daffodils springing up all around the tent. There were many things Remus had always wanted but never saw himself actually achieving. Coming to bake off was one. Making it to the final was another. And perhaps the most notable - finding someone who might love him as much as he loved them. And yet, here he was with all three.

“When I was a kid, I used to want to be a dog so bad, I was always getting in trouble for wearing holes in my pants because I would crawl instead of walking normally. I even refused to answer to ‘Sirius’.”

“Oh yeah?” Remus asked, amused. “What was your alter ego’s name then?”

He could hear Sirius’ smile even if he couldn’t see it. “Padfoot. He was this big black dog. I got the idea after I read about ‘The Grimm’ in one of my cousin’s books and I guess it kind of stuck.”

“Padfoot,” Remus repeated, unable to stop himself. “I like that.”

“Your turn,” Sirius urged, nudging Remus lightly. “Tell me something I don’t know about you.”

Remus’ heart fluttered, stomach rolling a little, he had news for Sirius, and had honestly engineered the entire conversation just to tell him, but now that the moment was here, he was getting nervous.

“I’ve been offered a job in London.”

Sirius froze under Remus’ cheek. “In London?”

“Yeah.”

“London, England?”

Remus chuckled as he sat up to look at Sirius’ stunned face, grey eyes wide, lips parted. “Yes, London, England.”

Sirius blinked. “But I live in London.”

Remus pursed his lips, trying not to smile too much. “I’m aware of this, yes.”

“You… we… we’d be living in the same country. In the same city.”

“That’s what I’m saying.”

“Remus motherfucking Lupin, that's the best thing I’ve heard all week.”

“Your flour is about to tip over.” Tonks commented, carelessly filing her nails over facetime as Remus ran around his station, trying to do several things at once.

“Oh my god Lupin, you’re a disaster, how did you even get into this competition?” Tonks teased as Remus caught the flour but promptly dropped it on the flour, a white cloud erupting, coating everything in a two meter radius in powder.

“Not very helpful.” Remus grumbled as he shook flour out of his hair and grabbed a cloth to wipe down the counter.

“I wasn’t trying to be helpful.” Tonks paused and looked at the recipe Remus had sent her. “You’re gonna need at least double the vanilla extract than what you have there.” Remus grabbed the recipe and looked it over, seeing she was right. “See?” Tonks said gleefully as Remus scratched out the original amount. “That was me being helpful.”

Remus rolled his eyes, but blew her a kiss, wiping the dusty screen of his phone which had not escaped the great flour disaster.

“Come on,” He said as he walked with his phone to the store room, as if Tonks had any other choice than to accompany him. “We’re gonna get some more flour.” He set his phone down on a shelf as he looked for the right flour, Tonks chatting away. If Remus closed his eyes he could almost pretend she was right there with him, the pair of them practising for whatever challenges they were soon to face.

“So where’s Lily on this fine evening?” Tonks questioned. “Don’t you two usually practice together around now?”

“Yeah,” Remus grunted as he picked up his phone, tucking it under his chin with his hands full. “But she was busy tonight.”

“No fucking way, she’s with James?”

“Well, I don’t know for sure.” Remus admitted, “But she sounded pretty suspicious.”

“Ooh.” Tonks gasped and Remus began carefully measuring flour and continuing where he left off. “All the Bake Off love this year.”

Remus laughed as he folded in his sugar, putting the batter in the oven before beginning to prepare the icing. “Oh hush you.”

Tonks just winked, sticking out her tongue. “You know you love me.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased as punch to welcome you to this year's Great British Bake off; the final!”

Sirius groaned, head tipping back at James’ enthusiastic introduction. “You did not just say ‘pleased as punch’.”

James feigned being hurt, placing a hand over his heart. “What would you prefer? Pleased as pudding? Pleased as pie?”

Sirius looked straight into the camera, his face blank but his amused eyes giving him away. “Someone please give me a new co-host, I can’t take this anymore.”

James laughed as he threw an arm over Sirius’ shoulder, the two of them easing the nerves of everyone in the tent tenfold. “Don’t worry Sirius darling, you haven’t got too long left with me because, like I said, we’ve reached the final!”

Remus smiled, hiding the hands he was wringing together under the table. It was the weirdest feeling - he was at once completely calm and so incredibly nervous. He couldn’t help but giggle at the antics of the infamous marauders and recalled that morning, lying in bed when Sirius had queried how much bullshit he’d be able to spout without any prior preparation. Remus had told him to go get ready but had promptly led them to activities that were in no way helpful to the rest of the day's events.

(It had been a good way to start the day though).

McGonagall and Dumbledore stood at the front of the tent, looking out at the eerily empty work stations, only three now filled. Remus and Lily were in the front two and Kingsley had come up to slot in behind Lily.

“We have a very exciting two days lined up,” Sirius said as he clasped his hands together, a natural in front of the cameras. Our bakers have no overall theme, so we’re going to get to see a little splash of everything!”

“For our signature challenge, our bakers have been asked to bake something that fits in with the theme of ‘final’’.” James said, taking his turn to speak again. “It can be anything from a cake inspired by the final book in a series or the last thing you had to eat, because tonight, there are no limits other than your imagination.”

Remus snorted and Sirius’ eyes found his as he elbowed James lightly. “Dramatic much.” He drawled before rubbing his hands together gleefully. “Are you ready?”

“On your marks,”

“Get set.”

“Bake!”

Remus hadn’t realised how much he would miss Tonks in the tent. He had missed her all week, but it wasn’t as if they ever had much chance to chat while they were filming, so he had thought it would be a little easier. But the tent was unusually quiet without her clattering at her station, inevitably breaking at least one piece of crockery per challenge.

“It’s too quiet,” Lily murmured, echoing Remus’ thoughts. “I almost feel like we’re not allowed to talk.”

Remus chuckled, remembering exams in home economics when he had been in secondary school and the teacher who would happily dole out zero marks if she so much as saw your lips move.

He grinned, taking a bowl he didn’t need from his station and ‘accidentally’ dropping it on the ground, the ceramic splitting with a loud crack.

“Oops!” He said loudly, glad he hadn’t ever tried to go into the theatre business, he was truly a terrible actor, and ran to grab a broom, not without winking at Lily who blew him a kiss.

“Much better, thanks!” She yelled after him and he just chuckled, disposing of the broken bowl, but not without slipping a shard into his apron pockets to take home with him as a little reminder.

Sirius meandered over after a little while as Remus put a tin in the oven to cook the soon-to-be sponge fingers for his tiramisu.

“You seem to be having a smashing time.” Sirius teased, his eyes alight.

“James already made that joke a few weeks ago.” Remus said laughing as he poured double cream into a bowl. “It’s really not that funny.”

Sirius just stuck out his tongue and moved to the next station, but Remus knew that had it been just the two of them, it was far more likely that Sirius would have taken much offence to the attack on his sense of humour, and a good snog would have been needed to make up for it.

James arrived no sooner than Sirius had left, peering into the bowl of ingredients that Remus was whipping, looking very much like he was contemplating dipping his finger in for a taste.

Marlene arrived, camera on her shoulder, surveying Remus’ station, sceptically watching Remus grate his dark chocolate.

“So Remus,” She began, fiddling with the lens to zoom in on his hands. “What has tiramisu got to do with the ‘final’ theme?”

“Well,” He said, suddenly feeling shy, wishing he didn’t have to explain. “Tonks, Andromeda Tonks, that is, had been planning to make a tiramisu for this episode, but she unfortunately was eliminated last week, so instead I’m making it.”

Some of the crew members cooed softly and Remus rolled his eyes, even as he blushed. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’m a big softie.” He glanced at Marlene once, smirking, then returned to his work, “Now fuck off and let me get on with it.”

“One of these days, Remus motherfucking Lupin,” Marlene grumbled as she walked away, not before snagging a square of chocolate to munch on, “One of these days I’m going to get you back.”

Remus’ dish was made pretty quickly, the most important part was leaving it in the fridge for as long as possible, so as soon as he had carefully layered the sponge and cream and chocolate of course, he set the fridge to the lowest temperature and put the big dish in. He had an idea of how he wanted to present it, but that all depended on whether or not it would be set properly.

He cleaned his station and set up everything he needed for when the dessert was set, but that only took ten minutes. Watching Lily and Kingsley rush around their stations while Remus had nothing left to do made him feel like he was back in school, the horrid panic of completing a test, thinking it was easy, then looking up to discover everyone else was still working intently. He put himself to work to avoid the fluttering in his chest, different to the loved up buzz he had been experiencing recently, no this tightness was more akin to the ‘oh no have I had ten shots of espresso’ variety. Remus wasn’t the biggest fan.

He made tea for the crew, including the judges and presenters, checked the progress of his dish, then made himself walk away from the fridge, lest he open it too often and slow down the cooling process. He chatted with Lily a bit while she worked and did an interview with James and Sirius, some more filler content now that there weren’t nearly as many bakers to keep up with, but the airing time of the show hadn’t changed.

“Need a hand?” He offered, turning to Lily who was crouched by her oven, gazing intently at her cake. “Nah I’m good.” She said, not looking up, “I don’t have anything to do until this little guy is cooked.”

“They never tell you how much waiting around there is.” Remus groaned, hopping up on his worktop. “I have been just sitting here for the best part of over an hour and I bet none of this is going to make the final cut.”

“You’d be right there!” Marlene chimed in, passing them on her way to video whatever complicated technique Kingsley was currently demonstrating. Remus raised an eyebrow at Lily, sighed and jumped off the counter. “I’m gonna check on my cakes now, thank you very much.”

Remus both loved and hated how there was no official ranking for the first challenge. He definitely loved it on days where he hadn’t done very well and didn’t want his failings it be broadcasted even more than they already had been, but today, with only three contestants left and the competition tangible, he wanted to know how much more impressive his next two bakes were going to have to be.

He supposed it didn’t really matter - he was going to do his very best no matter what.

Lily had made a cake shaped like a knitted hat, the piping terrifyingly realistic, in commemoration of the last hat her grandmother had made before she passed away. Kingsley had a coffee flavoured graduation cap to honour his girlfriend who was in her final year of college.

“We’re a bunch of sentimental saps.” Lily muttered to them both as they all walked out of the tent to go for lunch, the judges' praises ringing in their ears. They all seemed to be standing on equal footing for now.

“I know,” Remus groaned, throwing himself down on the grass under the sun. “I should have just done like, the final countdown or something.”

“Tonks is never gonna let you live this down.” Kinsley piped in.

“God, don’t remind me. I might just have to kill her before the episode airs, you know, save my reputation and all.”

“Oh, a spot of murder, how lovely.” James chirped as he and Sirius arrived, having been sent to retrieve all of their lunches, the three bakers claiming that they were too tired and as they always fed everyone else, it was time to switch it up.

James passed out sandwiches, pulling them from a bag, while Sirius handed Remus a salad.

Remus kissed Sirius on the cheek, “Thanks sweetheart.”

It took Remus a moment to realise what he had done, a moment more to remember that it was only Kingsley who hadn’t already known about their relationship. Kingsley who was looking very nonchalant and in no way surprised.

“Oh,” He said between bites, looking at Remus and Sirius’ panicked looks. “Was this meant to be a secret?”

Remus just burst out laughing, any tension that had appeared, vanishing in seconds. “I suppose we’re not very good at hiding it, huh?”

“Oi, speak for yourself.” Sirius jostled as he unwrapped his sandwich. “I’m an excellent secret keeper.”

“Alright everybody, welcome to the technical challenge of this year’s final!” James reintroduced them, everyone having returned to their stations, fresh aprons tied around their waist and judges standing at the top of the room watching over the proceedings.

“For our last technical challenge, the judges are asking you to make a classic sponge cake, but with a little twist.”

Remus eyed the mysterious pile of ingredients under the cloth on his table. He both loved and hated that blue and white gingham pattern, hated it because he wasn’t the biggest lover of surprises, and loved it because… well, because it was cute.

(Not every answer was super deep. The Pinterest boy in him was in love with the entire aesthetic of The Great British Bake Off).

“Our lovely judges have also requested that you make at least twelve meringue kisses to top your sponge cake.”

Remus raised his eyebrows in surprise - it wasn’t like the judges to add anything to something as classic as a sponge cake, but who was he to question? This was the final, anything was possible.

James and Sirius chattered on for a few more minutes, and then they were off, the three contestants whipping off their gingham cloths like a magician unveiling his assistant. Remus barely glanced at the vague recipe before setting off to make the meringues first. Their small size was deceptive and that’s why Remus thought the judges had included them - but they would take the most time to bake and cool.

He set about whipping egg whites and sugar as Marlene arrived by his side, taking a moment just to pan the camera over everything he was doing.

“Meringue kisses,” Marlene said, with a smug sounding tone. “Such a cute name. Go on Remus, tell us about your first kiss.”

Remus laughed, caught off guard, nearly spilling the extra sugar he was adding to the bowl. “Alright, which first kiss do you want to hear about? Cause technically I have a few.”

Marlene giggled with him and Remus felt like he was a schoolgirl, chatting about boys and kisses, like they were the beginning and end of everything. “The very first one.”

Remus could help but laugh again, shaking his head fondly at the memory. “It was awful.” he said, chuckling to himself. “I was thirteen and I kissed this girl called Mary on a dare.” He paused to look at the camera more directly. “Mary if you’re watching this, I’d apologise but we both know I’m right. That was a shit kiss.”

Remus grinned as he realised Marlene was going to let that explicative slide for the purpose of the story. Victorious at last.

“What about your other ‘first’ kisses.” Marlene prompted, overall looking thoroughly delighted by the stories. Remus paused for a moment to stop his mixer and run a spatula around the edge of the bowl to ensure everything was mixing well, before turning the mixer back on and stepping back.

“Well my first kiss with a boy was a year later and since my previous make-out experience consisted of the one kiss you already know about, I think it’s fair to say; that was pretty crap too.” He grinned at Marlene and started measuring the butter for his cake. “But it did solve the whole ‘sexuality crisis’ thing I had going on, so that was fun.”

He deemed his meringue mix whipped-enough so he carefully spooned batches into an icing bag and began piping tiny amounts onto a baking sheet.

“Then I suppose, there’s your first kiss with someone who really matters,” He said carefully, not looking up from his work. “With the person who’s so amazing that every kiss feels a little bit like the first one. Kinda makes you feel like every other kiss you’ve ever had was just practice for this exact moment.”

Remus was aware that his cheeks were a little pink, but then again, when were they not?

“And you’ve found that person?” Marlene asked softly, as Remus piped his last little swirl. He didn’t have to think about it, but he did suppose he should tell the person in question before quite literally broadcasting it to the nation. So instead he just winked.

“Sirius,” Remus said softly, later that night as they lay in bed, a movie playing in the background, Remus’ adrenaline still high from winning the technical challenge. “I know it’s early, so I'm not expecting anything back but since I might have just heavily implied it on national television I figured I should probably tell you that I’m in love with you.”

Sirius’ head didn’t move from Remus’ chest, instead he reached out and grabbed Remus’ free hand, pressing his knuckles to his soft lips. “I know.”

“You do?” Remus asked incredulously, trying (and failing) not to splutter.

Sirius chuckled, his voice deep. “Yeah, you said it in your sleep last night. Plus, I watched over the footage from today and I saw.”

Remus blushed. “Oh.”

Sirius twisted in his arms so Remus could finally see his eyes. They were sparkling and a playful smile twisted on Sirius’ lips.

“I love you too, you know.” Sirius said casually, as if commenting on the weather. Remus let his head drop back onto the pillow as a whoosh of relief escaped his mouth. Sure he hadn't expected to have Sirius say it back but this feeling was like nothing he had ever experienced before.

“Well no, I didn’t, actually.” Remus quipped, much to the ceiling’s amusement. “But it’s good to know.”

Suddenly Sirius was leaning over him, his hair falling around their faces like a dark curtain. “So are you gonna kiss me or what?”

Remus bit his lip, failing in his attempt not to smile. “Nah,” He said, a blatant lie as he raised himself onto his elbows and pressed their lips together. Sirius twisted so he could support himself on one arm, cupping Remus’ face with the other. “I loved what you said earlier,” He murmured against Remus’ lips. “About the first kiss thing. And I really, really love you.”

Remus just grinned against Sirius’ lips and pulled him closer. “Love you too. Now shut up and kiss me.”

“What’re you looking all smug about?” Lily teased, bumping their hips together as they strolled down to the tent. Remus had so many reasons for the butterflies in his chest, he could hardly stop his hands from shaking, but the smile hadn’t left his face since he woke up.

“Oh you know,” He said, waving his hand in feigned nonchalance. “I’m just a boy in love.”

“Fuck off, you said ‘I love you’?” Lily asked, her voice going up an octave.

“Mhm,” Remus confirmed, nodding. “So now you need to woman-up and kiss James fucking Potter like we both know you’ve wanted to do since the first day.” Lily looked as if she might protest, but Remus cut her off. “We both know I’m right. Plus, it’s fairly obvious that the feeling’s mutual, so for the love of all things holy, put the rest of us out of our misery and just snog the poor bugger.”

Lily laughed, even as she blushed and tried to shrug Remus off. “You know,” She started, shooting him a glare that was in no way intimidating. “I’m really not sure I like ‘in love Remus’.”

Remus just winked and kissed the top of her head, smirking wickedly. “I think we both know that’s a lie.”

“It’s here, the final.”

“We’ve already completed half of the final James.”

“Yeah but this is like… the final part of the final.”

“Someone please tell me why I’m friends with this bloke.”

“Oi!”

“Anyways!” Sirius interrupted. “I suppose James wasn’t fully wrong. We made it to the final stretch.”

“It’s time,” James took over, “For my personal favourite challenge. The showstopper.”

Sirius clasped his hands together in front of himself and Remus had to stop himself from staring at the movement. “For our final showstopper, our judges would like to see you recreate a memory.”

“It could be anything,” James continued, “From a chocolate Easter egg to a fondue waterfall, but it has to be your own memory and most importantly, it has to be edible.”

“Otherwise; we’d be the Great British Fake Off.” Sirius quipped and everyone in the tent collectively groaned, which only seemed to spur Sirius on even more.

“If our bakers are ready, I think we’ll begin. Ready Prongs?”

“Ready Pads.”

“On your marks,”

“Get set,”

“Bake!”

And maybe for the first time starting a challenge, Remus’ hands didn’t shake.

“Wotcha-makin?” Sirius asked, leaning around one side of Remus as James curved around the other.

“Cake.” Remus replied, not looking at either of them as he carefully evened out the batter in his tin before popping it in the oven. He then turned to face the two presenters, giving them exactly thirty seconds of his time for a round of rapid fire questions before he had to rush straight back into his work.

“What are you making?”

“A swing in a tree.”

“What kind of cake are you working with?”

“Mostly chocolate, but I have a few other elements working in.”

“What’s the memory you chose?”

Remus smiled softly. “One of my first real kisses.”

Sirius and James thanked him and left again, allowing him to get back to work. Remus had already filled Sirius in on all the details of his cake, he had even checked that it would be okay to use that idea in the first place. Sirius had just kissed him in response, enthusiastically and at length. The bakers had given all their details to the presenters and the camera crew before, so they could insert a voice-over effect to inform the audience of what was happening as the contestants were even more busy and focused than usual and weren’t giving too many interviews.

Remus had chosen several circular cake pans, in a range of different sizes and was going to stack all the cakes they produced on top of one another to create the tree trunk. The top of the tree was going to be made of a mix of white chocolate melted over Rice Krispies (with a little dash of green food dye thrown in) and moulded to look like the leafy crown of a tree in the summer. The swing would be the hardest to add, made of carefully moulded chocolate, Remus would have to be careful not to make the seat too heavy so that the ‘ropes’ and the actual tree itself would support its weight.

After taking all of his cakes out of the oven and setting them out to cool, and creating the swing set, Remus made the chocolate buttercream icing that would decorate the tree trunk. He carefully layered his cakes, using a knife to cut off the rough edges and make the cake slope gently upwards before slathering on thick layers of icing. Taking out a small, delicate knife, Remus carefully cut lines and patterns into the icing, aiming for it to look like the bark of a tree. Finally satisfied, he began melting the white chocolate to make the tree top.

“Looking good Re!” Lily enthused from behind her, forearms splattered in icing as she decorated her own cake, a letter with a bright red seal. Kingsley was working away too, apparently recreating the cover of the CD he bought the day his daughter was born.

“Celine Dion,” He had told Remus yesterday, chuckling. “I had never listened to her before, I don’t even know why I bought it, I just left the hospital with a need to celebrate and the music shop was the first place I came across. But what do you know? It turns out that my little girl loves it.”

Remus grinned at the memory, sweet even to him and admired Lily’s cake out loud. “It’s the acceptance letter to my college,” She was explaining to the camera. “I got a full scholarship, so it’s pretty special.”

Remus turned his attention to his now-melted chocolate and added the green carefully, not wanting to make it too light or two dark. He had found that five drops got him the colour he was looking for - the pale chocolate requiring that little extra for the colour to darken. He then added the cereal and stirred it in together, folding it in with his spatula.

He gave his hands a thorough wash again as he waited for the mixture to cool just enough that he could mould it, but not so much that it set, and got back to work, spooning the green mix on top of his tree trunk until there was enough for him to start shaping it. He attached the chocolate swing very carefully as soon as he was satisfied and brought it straight to the fridge to set.

And then he was done.

He looked around the tent, thinking surely this couldn’t be it, he must have something more to do, but no, there was nothing left. His cake was made and decorated and now only time could tell what would happen next.

Feeling a tad useless, Remus set about cleaning his station and clicked the kettle, fulfilling his tradition in providing the crew with tea. He had just made his own one when James announced the official ten minute warning. They were nearly done.

Suddenly Remus’ heart was in his chest. He had been impeccably calm until this moment, a fact that had surprised him but he hadn’t questioned as it was much easier to bake when your hands weren’t shaking and your heart wasn’t thundering. But all the adrenaline rushed into him now as he realised that one way or another, he was finished with the Great British Bake Off.

At the ‘two minutes’ call, Remus took his cake out of the fridge and gave it a final look over. He tweaked the carving in the tree trunk and double checked that the swing would hold its place and then Sirius asked everyone to step away from their creations.

Dumbledore and McGonagall re-entered the room. Remus’ pulse matched every step they took.

“Kingsley,” They called, and the man in question carefully walked his cake to the table at the top of the tent. Remus watched as the judges 'oohed' and 'awed', admiring the level of detail, right down to the serial number Kingsley had apparently memorised.

Lily went next, her piping skills on display, demonstrating her lovely cursive handwriting that read her own name and an edited home address, signed and sealed by the headmaster. In their practice bakes, Remus had seen many versions of the cake on display but he had no doubt that this was her best work yet.

Finally it was Remus’ turn, and he walked up to the front carefully, trying to keep his breathing even. He had a mental image of himself falling and his cake going everywhere but he batted it out of his mind. His cake was the tallest by far and god, he could only hope, the best.

Sirius caught his eye as they cut the cake and winked. To anyone else, it would look like a presenter trying to calm the nerves of a contestant, but Remus heard the words that had been whispered to him that morning as the sun rose.

“You’re gonna win this.”

Remus had blushed and batted him away, but Sirius had looked at him earnestly. “No, Re, seriously. They base these things on who does best that week. And you’ve already won the technical. If you go and blow them away today, just like you always do, you’ve got this in the bag.”

Remus blushed and hit his face in a pillow but he linked their legs together.

“Besides,” Sirius teased, rolling on his back and tucking his arms under his head. Cocky. “You’ve already won the best prize.”

Remus had playfully kicked his ankle and Sirius’ resounding laugh still echoed in his ears.

“Ah, Mr Lupin,” Dumbledore began casually as he picked up a knife, perhaps unaware that he held Remus’ future in his hands. “This is rather impressive.”

Remus swallowed as the slices were cut and set onto plates. “Thank you.”

“You have no adventurous flavours for us I see,” McGonagall observed as she picked up her fork.

“No,” Remus confirmed. “Chocolate is my speciality, and well, I wanted to keep it simple.”

That seemed to be all the commentary they wanted as they both nodded with a small smile and took a bite.

“Excellent Mr Lupin.” McGonagall said. And that was it. They were done. The judges thanked them all and retreated to the back room to do whatever it is the judges do and make some decisions. The cast broke into a round of applause and Remus tugged Lily under his arm, Kingsley joining the little hug soon after.

“Can you believe that’s it?” Lily asked them and the two boys just shook their heads.

“No more non-stop baking.” Kingsley sighed. “I don’t know if I’m sad or relieved.”

“Both.” Remus laughed. “Definitely both.”

“Okay you lot,” James interrupted. “We have a little something for you outside.”

They all grinned. As loyal bake-off fans, they all knew what was coming. They walked outside the tent to picnic tables set up and laden with the cakes they made that day, along with all the eliminated contestants of that year and the families of the finalists.

Remus beamed at Tonks before sweeping his mother up into a hug.

“I’m so proud of you!” Hope said to him as she gripped him close. Remus chuckled as he bent to half his size, squeezing her just as tight. “Thanks Mam.”

“Now introduce me to this man of yours.” Hope teased, speaking low even though the microphones were elsewhere and they were surrounded by noise. Remus flushed, but he beckoned Sirius over with a tilt of his chin, so subtle no camera could have caught it. Remus had told his mom about everything and she had been begging for more information, only just stopping short of looking up celebrity gossip, although she did send Remus one or two pictures of Sirius on red carpets with the caption ‘your children would be beautiful’.

Sirius looked more nervous than Remus had ever seen him, holding his hand out to be shaken, but Hope just pulled him into a hug.

“It’s lovely to meet you Mrs Lupin,” Sirius said, looking a little surprised as Hope cupped his face in her hands and gave him a proper look. Remus hid his laugh in his elbow as Hope patted Sirius’ cheek fondly. “You’ve got good taste.” She said to him, tilting her head towards Remus, who blushed.

“The best.” Sirius agreed.

“Remus!” Tonks yelled, tired of being ignored and pulled Remus’ attention elsewhere. “Your cake was brilliant!”

Remus laughed running his fingers through his hair, the pink staining his cheeks permanent it would seem. “Thanks Tonks.”

The bright haired woman just grinned and wrapped an arm around Remus before cheerfully introducing herself to Hope. Sirius excused himself as he had to go with James to chat with the judges and Lily joined them with her parents, Kingsley standing with his family and talking to Fabian about knitting of all things. They sat in the garden, the sun shining bright, a few fluffy white clouds lazing their way across the sky. They chatted about everything and nothing as they munched on an endless amount of cake, Remus just sipping on tea as he hadn’t had the foresight to make anything gluten free. He was distracted, Lily and Kingsley were too and everyone around them knew it, not minding when they drifted in and out of the conversation. As nervous as he was, Remus knew this moment right here was his favourite, living his literal dream, surrounded by friends and family. That even gave him a sense of calm.

Until the presenters and judges emerged from the tent, all wearing welcoming smiles that revealed nothing. They stopped at the table draped in a pristine white cloth and topped with three beautiful flower bouquets and an engraved glass cake stand. There was no big cash prize in the bake-off, and Remus loved that. It made it all the more endearing to him, and it only allowed for the most passionate bakers to enter, the ones who baked for the love of it, not for money.

For once, James and Sirius were quiet, not needing to grab anyone's attention as the focus was already entirely on them. The three remaining bakers lined up before them as they had previously been instructed by the crew, and then the judges began speaking.

“This year, we had the most wonderful collection of bakers,” Dumbledore started, having to pause already as the applause had already commenced. “And our finalists even more so. I do believe this was the most difficult final we’ve had to judge in a long time, isn’t it Minerva?”

“It was,” McGonagall agreed, nodding. “We had a truly fine selection and the most beautiful array of cakes today. But in the end, there can only be one winner.”

Remus was certain everyone in attendance could hear his heartbeat. Lily’s hand was clammy in his own.

“It is with the greatest pleasure that I can announce that this year’s winner of The Great British Bake Off is…”

James and Sirius picked up a bouquet of flowers each, as did Dumbledore, McGonagall presenting the cake stand. Lily squeezed his hand, and Kingsley’s on the other side too he was sure.

“Remus Lupin.”

Remus blinked even as Lily threw herself on him in a bone-crushing hug, the judges approaching him to present him with his prize. Distantly he saw Sirius and James handing flowers to Kingsley and Lily, but he was in a daze. Dumbledore kissed him on the cheeks and McGonagall shook his hand with a knowing wink and suddenly Remus’ arms were heavy with flowers and expertly crafted glass.

Kingsley shook his hand, patting his shoulder in congratulations and James pulled him into a little side hug. Remus beamed at them, the crowd still cheering and clapping behind him as he reached forward and grabbed Sirius’ shirt, pulling him in for a kiss.

The crowd roared behind them and suddenly Remus realised where he was and what he was doing as he pulled away. “Shit, I’m sorry.” He said frantically. “I wasn’t thinking, I fucking shit- Christ- sorry!”

Sirius laughed and wrapped an arm around Remus’ waist. “I’m not. I love you, and I don’t care who knows. Now shut that filthy mouth of yours and kiss me, you absolute wanker.”

So Remus did.

The newspapers the next day had many headlines, but Remus’ personal favourite? ‘BRITISH BAKE OFF - STAR AND BAKER!’

THREE MONTHS LATER

The bakery was loud and busy and completely hectic and Remus loved every single second working there. Not a day went by that he wasn’t teased about his bake-off status and he was working on his degree here in London. Basically his life was everything he ever could have dreamed it would be.

“Remus, there’s someone here for you!” His co-worker, Katie, called from the front of the shop and Remus grinned, not even bothering to take off his apron as he wiped his hands against the fabric, opening the door with his shoulder, thanking Katie for the message even as his eyes scanned the shop floor.

Sirius.

Standing there in his leather jacket, his hands tucked into the pockets, motorcycle resting outside the door. “Hey,” He greeted, with a lazy smile. “You ready?”

“Yeah,” Remus nodded before freezing. “Wait no, I have to ice a few more pastries, they’re our best-seller.”

Sirius rolled his eyes laughing. “Oh,” He said, waving it off. “Let them eat cake.”

FIN.

[spiltscribbles]

this night seems so long!

~Notes: I’m reposting this and i’m still not happy with it :S rip XS

SEND ME A PROMPT  |  A REBLOG MEANS THE WORLD!

.-

It is pleasant, indeed, while the summer lasts

with the mild pheasants' song ...

but now I feel the northern wind's blast—

its severe weather strong. 

Alas! Alas! This night seems so long!

And I, because of my momentous wrong

now grieve, mourn and fast.

TS Eliot

.-

The late summer chill seeps through the creeping windows into the flat that they once called home— the feebly standing, slowly disintegrating haven that was painted with laughter before lies, with hopeful kisses before hesitant touches. The cold burrows itself into Sirius’s bones and coats his every thought and  nests deep inside of him until he’s more frost than man.

But then he sees Remus— beautiful and golden and perfect Remus— padding out their bedroom clad in Sirius’s oversized jumper that swallows his hands whole, and that familiarly gentle smile that makes his eyes glitter  once his soft gaze rests on Sirius, and his sleep supple  skin tastes like the things too beautiful to name. He tastes like Remus— like sunlight and parchment and whispered laughter and raspy groans and that’s all Sirius ever wants, has ever wanted.

“It’s September first.” He says once Sirius finally unlatches from his neck, red faced and pleased, and Sirius swears that Ganymede has nothing on him. That if he could he’d restructure every celestial star from above to follow the precise slope of his nose, and the pedal soft curve of his cheek, and the path of his jawline to temple. For everyone to worship him in ways he’s always deserved.

“We’ve made it another month,” Sirius retorts, mixes the splash of milk with the sugar in Remus’s Earl Gray, which is a travesty and a point of teasing throughout their whole relationship since they were nothing but lads. Sirius blames Remus’s beverage faux pas— including his preferential nature to black coffee—to being raised by a Frenchman for a mother, and Remus always counters that if Sirius was any more bloody English he’d be afraid that Queen Elizabeth would poach him for her next husband. Which of course always ended the argument because then Lily would laugh from besides him, and Sirius would glare along with James— both hating it when Remus and Lily’s Muggle references go over their heads like a second language they couldn’t speak.

But Lily’s not here, and neither is James. They’re tucked away in another safe house— the fourth in a calendar year, and they’re both going a bit mad if the letter Lily sent him only a few weeks ago is anything to go by. And Sirius aches for the both of them, aches for baby Harry— his one year old God son who he loves like nothing else. And how could he not? He’s Lily’s bright eyes set into James’s open face, has James’s warm, brown complexion but inherited Lily’s freckles too. He’s Sirius’s God son, and there’s a mad man after him, and sometimes it feels like Sirius’s brain is a mushy, muddled stew melting out of his scalp when he’s forced to contemplate on it for too long— to contemplate on how little Harry seems incapable of escaping the danger— because it goes back to the same name over and over again. The name of someone Sirius refuses to ever let himself contemplate for longer than a breath.

“Aye,” Remus says in that lilting, Welsh bread accent of his before he takes a slow sip and Sirius is left to study the sweep of his long lashes against his fine bones and how less than a fortnight ago that face Sirius adores so endlessly  came home caked in mud and blood that was only partially  Remus’s own and Sirius wasn’t allowed to ask what happened while he cleaned the cuts and kissed the healed pink skin with gentle reverence. “Maybe 82 will be our year Paddy.” Remus says with such raw yearning that it blows the wind out of Sirius like he’s  just taken a bludger to the gut. And he feels so stupid and thankful all at once. Because of course those idl contemplations are nothing but ridiculous fodder. Of course Remus would never— could never.

“Yeah moony,” he says quietly. “Maybe it will.”

Sirius steps forwards, and he kisses him and Remus breathes out like he’s been holding it for a long while, and then his fingers slide into Sirius’s overgrown hair and tugs,  and they’re lost in one another for the rest of the morning.

.-

Three days later Remus leaves again under demands that he won’t ever disclose to Sirius— penance for the trust Sirius broke as a schoolboy with a prank that proved near deadly— and a week after that the Order gets news that the Prewettss were compromised, that it took five of those Death Eater bastards to finish them off, and that their older sister with seven kids of her own can’t bare to hold a public wake.

The cold gets worse, and Sirius doesn’t know where to step to avoid another avalanche; is afraid that with every move he takes, a landmine is waiting to blast.

.-

The bare branches of the elderly tree outside their flat knocks against the partition that once bathed them  in spilt sunlight and stolen serenity and careful comfort. It scrapes against the glass like the fingers of an inferi, accentuated by the sound of the whistling wind, crooning like the menacing melody by a milky eyed, haggard looking banshee. And everything is unmoving, everything is still— petrified for a moment in frozen history.

And Sirius feels his insides collapse when he remembers that he’ll never hear Gideon’s laughter or see Fabian sat next to Benjy again. It’s a generation lost, Sirius thinks morbidly, the way he always gets when Remus isn’t home and he’s tossing back shots of Fire-Whiskey like it’s what keeps his veins pumping life. A generation  of them that’s being killed off one by one, a generation of Hogwarts graduates being obliterated and there’s not an end in sight and Sirius wants to scream. He wants to fight them with his bare hands. He wants to ravage each of their hideouts and use them as target practice for his unforgivables and he wants to run, God he wants to run. He wants James and Lily and Harry to come with him, wants to steel Remus in the middle of the night before he knows what’s even happening. He wants to escape it all and hold onto his family with a iron grip that can only be severed through death.

Sirius wants it so much that it begins to ache, to twist in his stomach and weep within the hollows of his bones.

But then the branches knock against the window once more, and he’s brought back to a reality the makes even idyllic daydreams like that something treacherous and awful. So he pours himself another finger and raises the glass to fallen friends and pretends that the throbbing in his heart is something that can be spelled away if he only works hard enough.

.-

Remus comes home a week later and Sirius feigns that the sight of his lover doesn’t make Sirius picture Marlene’s twisted face of agony and Dorcas’s limp body at the feet of this dark wizard that has destroyed everything Sirius has ever known and tainted everything he has ever loved.

.-

The safe house is sparsely decorated, save for the candle Lily’s always got burning and the succulent she keeps on a shelf besides a small portrait of Harry, tucked between one of her and James on their wedding day, and another of the five of them at their Hogwarts graduation. 

It’s no home, especially not one for a baby that’s as curious and boisterous as little Harry. It’s a prison at best. still packed boxes strewn about the ground, and  a tension permeating the air and it’s awful. But Sirius manages to forget about it when he glances to his right and sees a giggling Harry bouncing happily on Remus’s lap, and Remus is glowing in a way Sirius hasn’t seen for edging on a year. The stiffness threaded through his shoulders has dissipated and his smile is wide and he’s dotingly kissing Harry’s chocolate splattered cheek while James and Lily roll their eyes fondly from across the breakfast spread. And Sirius thinks that if this is all he sees for the rest of his life he would thank every God and every spirit above.

“Uncle Moony, you better be convincing Harry that if he doesn’t eat his berries that the boogie man will come and munch on his toes tonight,” Lily scolds half heartedly, which makes James drop a kiss to the crown of her head before topping off her tea.

“No toes, mommy! No toes!” Harry babbles in that in-between state of gargling and speech that is as precious as it is incomprehensible.

“Saucy boy,” Sirius chuckles, tousling Harry’s already hopelessly disheveled hair and kissing the corner of Remus’s lips that taste like hazelnut and blueberries and a bit like sunlight too. And he thinks that this is what happiness feels like— He’s nearly forgot.

“I’ll get’m washed up, shall I?” Remus says as he rises swiftly from his seat, Harry clapping excitedly. 

“Good man,” James winks and Lily blows him a kiss. Remus looks down at Sirius, a brow cocked slightly.

“I’ll be up in a minute, yeah? Just wanted to help these plonkers with the dishes.”

Remus grins brightly and nods, and then, he stilts— like in hesitation— before kissing Sirius’s temple, promptly shuffling off and humming Harry an old French lullaby that he knows Hope once sang him when he was a boy.

And Sirius’s heart feels so full, so fragile, And Sirius hates that he didn’t tell him I love you, is afraid that the space of time that they’ll get to say that to one another is rapidly dwindling.

“We’re finishing up all the kinks in the plan,” James says, saddling up besides  Sirius, handing him a sponge and keeping the dishcloth in his own. “You still want to act as secret keeper?”

“Course you daft wanker,” Sirius bristles. “I’d do anything for you lot.”

“I know,” James says unflinchingly.  “You and Moony are the best friends a bloke can ask for.”

And God that hurts like nothing else, so Sirius doesn’t even try to retort in any meaningful sort of way.  “Don’t forget Wormyy.”

James laughs. “Would never dare.”

And then silence drops over them like a heavy quilt threatening to smother them to death. And Sirius scrapes off the grime from the dishes and pretends that the plate isn’t still scratched and battered even once the debris is gone. And he swallows down the lump in his throat when he remembers that Remus is leaving again in a matter of hours.

.-

Remus is still curved around Sirius like a blessing stroked to life  with heavenly colors the morning after he gets back. Sirius wraps his arms around him, squeezes tightly and berries his head into his neck, wanting to feel him, to smell him all over. And as they lie down in that heap in the bed Sirius has always called theirs, but Remus has only ever referred to as Sirius’s, he sobs.

“Don’t go Remus, don’t leave me anymore. Just stay here, stay with me. I love you so much that I’m afraid I’ll crack with it and I know you don’t— that you can’t feel the exact same way— but please, just don’t leave us. Stay here, stay and love me too.”

Remus’s even breaths never falter, and he never flutters his eyes open, but Sirius has known him for nearly half his life, and he knows it like he knows his own name that Remus is awake and simply doesn’t answer him. 

What Sirius doesn’t know is what that means.

.-

They’re sitting on either end of the couch now. 

Sirius is pretending to fill out a crossword but is actually trying to decode a letter they had been able to intercept between McNair and a lower ranking Death Eater about some assignation that was meant to be held in the wee hours of October seventh. But every few minutes his eyes wander to Remus, to how he’s curled up with a book of poetry in one hand and his blanket swathed around him. His fringe is hanging in limp curls and the circles beneath his eyes are only that much more prominent, that much more sickly. And his gaze is large and fragile in a way Sirius has never seen. And he wants to slide the novel out of Remus’s hands and he wants to kiss away his frown, and he wants to lock his fingers through the holes in his green sweater and he wants Remus in every way imaginable, to tell him I love you and I love you and I love you so much its like I’m dying. He wants to kiss the inside of his elbow and the knot of his ankle and beneath his naval too. He wants him and knows that he’ll never stop wanting him, and is sure that this— this love— will prove his Achilles’ Heal, and Remus is Patroclus destined to leave him  first and Sirius is destined to wallow in ruin.

Sirius wants to beg him to stay here, to stay with him, to love him like he knows he does.

But Sirius simply does not— Does not tell him any of that.

They haven’t spoken to one another with words for days now, and it feels pathetic and hopeless— the way they only regard one another with stiff lips and cautious glances in the daylight, but that doesn’t stop them still clutching for one another once the sun dips into the  horizon. Like if they can convince themselves that the sex is still miraculous that they still love each other too. As if their bodies aren’t just vessels, aren’t just sacks of skin and bone. And it feels like they’re both giving up on one another and holding on to each other with equal fervency. And Sirius doesn’t know anything any more.

It’s pathetic and it’s painful and it’s pointless. It’s so obviously over, it’s been over for nearly half a year, but they’ve always been cowards when it came to one another. And Sirius doesn’t think that will ever change.

So he only settles deeper into the couch, and he keeps the Shakespeare in Remus’s grasp, and he moves his free hand to deftly clutch around one of Remus’s cold feet, and he squeezes and Remus freezes, and they both breathe for the first time in far too long. But then Remus pulls away, and Sirius lets go before he can feel the sting of rejection and they go back to pretending to go on.

.-

Remus is gone the next morning for a council with Dumbledore, so Sirius wanders the flat like a ghost with no direction, no idea what’s next.

He decides to tidy up the space, like it matters, like anything is normal. And when he reaches for the empty mug on Remus’s nightstand, he sees that his book of poetry is still open, and he lifts it to glance at the sonnet written their in black and white…

When my love swears that she is made of truth

I do believe her, though I know she lies,

That she might think me some untutor’d youth,

Unlearned in the world’s false subtleties.

And Sirius throws it hard against the wall before he can read another word.

.-

Remus is preparing for another mission for reconnaissance, tells Sirius that night over their curry take away. And it feels like the world is dissolving right in front of Sirius’s eyes, like his lungs have forgotten how to breathe during those interludes where Remus leaves without a trace— only starting up again when he returns smelling of blood and fear and the outdoors. And Sirius hates everything so much— Is afraid that he hates Remus most of all some days, even if he’s the one person he can’t fathom existing without. 

.-

The sky breaks open that night and rain pellets down like the bullets from the Muggle films that Remus loved showing him, before the war, and before his disappearing act, and before it felt like a knife was plunged into Sirius’s chest every time he looked at him— and the only worst thing than this would  be if he stopped seeing Remus all together, because he knows it like the innate way he knew how to move his lips against Remus’s on that feted day towards the start of seventh year— that the knife would simply be pulled out and he’d bleed to death bit by bit. 

It hurts like nothing else loving him, but Sirius can’t fathom a world where he does not. Where he doesn’t get to trace the consolation of freckles dusting his high cheekbones, where he doesn’t get to kiss the singular mole at the nape of his neck that’s ordinarily covered up by his thick jumpers. A world where they don’t intwine in the ways that lovers are want to do.

Sirius loves Remus even if he knows it’s fruitless because there’s a war destroying the world and there’s a spy in the order and Remus is the only one who’s brilliant in a reserved way  and cunning when he wants to be and the only one who knows how to properly keep a secret from his friends like it’s a second skin that he wears as effortlessly as a cloak.

And God.

Remus is sitting besides him now, a pinky’s breath away from his perch on the sofa.

There are words that writhe in Sirius’s throat, clacking against his teeth, begging to spill out. He wants to tell Remus he loves him, that he’d forgive him anything. He wants to tell him that Remus can Avada Kedavra him in the cold morning light and Sirius would still only see him bathed in an etherial  glow, but can’t see him doing that to their dearest friends, to Harry who is sacred and should always be protected. He wants to beg him to just speak, to tell Sirius the truth, to tell Sirius he still loves him. Beg Remus to run away with him. To go off to Prague or Cordova or maybe even the states, to say sod it to the whole damn war and just spend their days and nights tangled up with naked limbs and sweaty sheets.

And he thinks he will, thinks that the burning sensation of want within him is too furious to tempt down anymore.

But then the dying sun shimmers through the window, unspools in Remus’s honey curls and twinkles in his butterscotch eyes that were once always dancing with a quiet humor that enthralled Sirius to him like a drifter to a prophet. And it’s not healthy, this vigil he’s always held for him— especially now, especially with his suspicions that James begrudgingly agrees with and Lily fumingly does not— but Sirius’s never been one for self preservation, has never known how to let a scab heal over naturally. He has to poke and prod until it scars, until it becomes a indelible part of him. 

They stay there like that for either a minute or hour more, and when Sirius sees that Remus finally has enough of their staring match, he begins to move away, and it is Sirius— with a quick hand and desperate need— who presses him back down to the cushions with a hot mouth and wandering palms and he pretends that all he feels at the sound of the whimper Remus lets out is pleasure and not pain from his heart chipping that much more.

And this is vacant of words too. This is just instincts and moans and intuition of knowing another’s body and pleasure points and wants  for half a decade now.

They make it to the bedroom and Sirius refuses to be gentle, refuses to deprive himself of anything, and Remus is matching him with every thrust.

When they kiss its wet, and Sirius knows its the tears leaking out their eyes, and he knows in that unspoken, understanding way that this is the final time. That when Remus leaves later tonight, he’ll stay gone, that he won’t ever sleep besides Sirius again, won’t ever hold him like this. Sirius will never get to see him in the splendid, golden hours of morning and never get to run away with him after all. So Sirius blunders Remus’s mouth with his hard tongue, and he relishes the way Remus bites on his bottom lip until he tastes blood. And he throws them onto the mattress and they wrestle together in the sheets, scratching and pulling and canting obscenely. And when Sirius kisses his protruding collar bone it’s I’m saying I love you, and when Remus sucks on the hinge of Sirius’s jaw it feels like an apology. And when Sirius squeezes the scar on his inner thigh where the very first bite mark lies mangled and knotted in his skin, he’s begging him one last time to stay, and when Remus tells him in a voice that’s tenuous and tender and filled with sorrow, “Fuck me” the syllables slot together in a different formation that sound like “I’m already gone.”

They’re having parallel conversations and they’re not speaking and it’s the end.

So Sirius bucks against him and Remus wraps his long, long legs around Sirius’s narrow waste, and Sirius codes his fingers with the lube they’ve always kept in his nightstand and is fast when he plunges them into that ring of tight, tight muscle, when he stretches and scissors  and slicks him open, spurred on  by Remus’s gargled words begging him. “Now Sirius, now, now. Do it now.”

So he doesn’t bother with any of the rest of it. He barely sheaths himself half way before he has to stop, has to catch his breath, to re acclimate himself to the pressure. But then he hears Remus whimper and he surges forwards and doesn’t let up this vicious rhythm that he hears pulsing in his fucking ears. And it’s graceless and it’s hard and it’s a bit rushed but it’s what they need. And when Remus tosses back his head— features twisted up with emotion— Sirius berries his face into his neck and he feels his tears intermingling with Remus’s own and Remus’s loud pleads for him to go rougher, to stay longer, to keep fucking into him. So Sirius listens because there isn’t anything he wouldn’t do for Remus— even now— and he focusses on his hand circling Remus’s length, on pumping it with a tight fist and a bit of a twist, the way Remus has always preferred it. And he hears Remus croaking out an “I’ve always loved you,” and even if those words are too late, too little, too hollow, they still work to bring him off the edge, and Sirius thrusts deeper only twice more before he’s releasing himself into him— into the love of his life— quickly followed by Remus’s own cock whimpering out it’s own climax. And it feels like the ending to the story Sirius never wanted to stop being told.

But before he can pull out his overstimulated prick from Remus’s arse, Remus just squeezes him with his legs,  eyes fluttering shut while he rests his arms around Sirius’s broad shoulders. “Just stay.” he asks. “Stay until I have to go.”

And the sound of him— so desperate so pliant so tired— breaks the rest of his heart so much so that Sirius feels the remains splintering in his lungs and shattering open his ribcage with a sob he never lets out until Remus is gone.

“Anything you want Moony. Whatever you ask.”

And Remus’s lips twitch up into the best approximation of a smile that he’s given Sirius in far too long, and Sirius rests his head against Remus’s chest, and kisses the freckles that he was so elated to find their the first time they had done this. And he takes in deep the scent of  cinnamon and citrus and sunlight that’s always clung to his skin, and he thinks that this is the first time they’re letting each other feel hopeless together.

.-

The cold has turned over to a blizzard, and it seizes the flat once more the next morning.

Remus is gone and Sirius is left alone and nothing is right.

So he grabs the floo powder from the beautiful, ceramic container Hope had gifted Remus when he first moved into the flat the summer after their seventh year, and he finds James waiting for him on the other side, and he’s never taken in just how exhausted and terrified and sad his brother is looking these days.

“Wotcher, Pads.” James says, sipping on his tea with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, and nothing is alright, nothing will probably ever be alright again.

“Hiya, Prongsie,” Sirius says, hearing just how threadbare his voice sounds in the quiet of the Potter cottage.

“So just a morning call? Or would you like me to fetch Haz for you?”

Sirius swallows the lump in his throat and forces himself to speak.  “James I love you more than life, love Lily and the sprog just as much— But—“ he chokes up right then before ramming forwards. “I can’t— I can’t be the—“

“I know,” James interrupts, a thin, forgiving smile on his face. “Pete’ll have to do, but I’d still rather it you.”

“I’m so sorry James.”

“Me too.”

.-

~My Wolfstar FIC Masterlist

[vminity21]

Aplomb | kth

» Pairing: instructor!taehyung x blind!reader

» Word Count: 2,315

» Genre: vague angst/fluff/soft

» Warning(s): None; Rated: pg

» Summary: He always finds a way to bring the vision to you, even when you thought it could never be possible.

Credits to: @suhdays , the cover seriously embodies the aesthetic, thank you so much!

The rain is relentless causing clusters of cold, stringy grass to cling to your ankles while you amble past, palms palpating rough bark of tree trunks on either side, pushing your way through the mush, flinging dirt covers your shins, the scowl on your face must be ridiculous, but you're determined to find shelter regardless. A path ahead paves you through the woods, tangled brush mingles with fallen logs, decorating what you can imagine is the color green among the ground- your bare feet soaked along with your dress snug to your figure. The journey is long or appears that way, except when your eyes fall upon something peculiar in the distance.

Lily pads glide along the top of the water encircled by pickerels and horsetail plants, long blades of grass tickle each other in the wind, the rain ceasing especially when your gaze halts at the silhouette- his eyes are closed, hands crossed over his chest, merely floating letting the trivial splashes of the water drown his acoustic senses to nature. You're so intrigued by the scene, tiptoeing forward to see the subtle fall and rise of his chest- the water carrying him in a peaceful drift.

Bricks surround the pond holding in what it can, you nestle onto the ground, your eyes never moving from the sleeping frame. It's strange, everything around is simply what has been described to you, but something about him- something about him makes you feel as though you're not alone. You dip your feet into the water carefully, the mud washing away from your skin. When you inch closer, you peer at his face, what you imagine him to look like, a small freckle dotting his nose, pink lips resting in a content line, the curve of his jawline, and the beauty of what you imagine is soft brown eye-

-

Darkness is all you see when you jolt awake, panting at the realization that the man in your dream happened to open his eyes without your knowledge. Hence why your heart is thrumming beneath you, your hand hovering above your chest in order to remain calm. Though you can't see it, you can tell its daylight from the way your room feels, the heat soothing on the wooden floors the moment you maneuver your bare feet onto the ground. Palpating the covers of your bed, you search for your white cane that you typically leave leaning against the side of your bed frame; cautiously you arise when your fingers curl over the curved edge, slowly walking to your dresser to throw on whatever jeans and t-shirt you have clean.

You were five years old when you were pronounced blind. The sickness that overtook you robbed you of your sight, though years and years have passed, there are still things you don't necessarily remember, but your memory has reserved just enough for you to imagine. Tapping your cane along the floor, you pause, feeling for the denim in one drawer, then sliding open the next one and grabbing the first fabric you touch. Once dressed, you feel your way to the laundry basket, throwing your pajamas into it.

School for the blind. That's where you are because according to your parents there is always something to learn. Loneliness overwhelms you, especially when you wish your family would visit you, but in order to succeed, you must focus- according to your mother. If only she would understand how much strength it really takes for you to endure this then maybe she wouldn't be so distant. You prod to the bathroom, palms patting against the cool surface of the counter until you find your toothbrush, freshening up before retrieving your hairbrush, gently pulling it through your tousled strands, wincing at the pain when you hit scant knots. One thing you've missed out on that you wish you weren't forced to is what you've grown up to look like. You remember your hair color from when you were younger, the same as you remember the color of your eyes, yet the equivalent thought plagues you every day- how do you appear to other people?

"[Y/N]?" Taehyung, your instructor's, deep voice calls from your bedroom door, your head turning in that very direction. You tap your cane in front of you until your fingertips smooth along the top of a table, one that is set a foot away from your bedroom door.

"Good morning," you greet with a terse grin, your hearing is sensitive or has been nearly your whole life due to your condition since you hear Taehyung shifting fully away from the door and into your room.

"Good morning, [Y/N], are you ready for your review today?" his voice is soft- you hear the skid of him pulling a chair out, you brushing your hip along the rim of the table until you settle into the seat, the cushion comforting enough for you to feel at peace.

"I am," you reply, dropping your cane lightly on the ground as the sound of a heavy book is set in front of you.

"Good, I'm glad to hear it," you hear him taking a seat beside you- the flapping of book pages sinking the silence, "Alright," he clears his throat, "you may begin."

You raise your hand to find the book, sliding your fingertips along the page until you feel the familiar dots of braille. You murmur the letters to yourself until they form a word, "Cat," you say confidently, your fingers flying to the next word.

"Good job," Taehyung congratulates, and you feel the air from his palm gesturing you to continue. Though you can't see him, you always enjoy his company, his countenance brings a peace you wish you could feel when you're alone.

The single dot you feel, immediately you identify as 'a', your fingers pressing harder into the braille to figure the other letters, "Apple." You continue for another twenty minutes correctly reading words from left to right until you feel Taehyung moving the book away from you. "You know what I think?" he says leading to a drawn-out silence. You gulp, the pace of your heart slightly quickening as nervous jitters greet your stomach. You wait patiently for his response, imagining his fingers pinned to his lips in concentration. "I think it's time for sentences. A story if I want to be frank."

Your eyebrows furrow at his words, "A... story?"

"From what I've gathered, you already know braille inside and out. Have yet to make a mistake," his deep voice serenades you though you'll never admit it, just something so soothing about the way he enunciates his words and the encouragement brings a timid smile to your lips, "Why not read an entire story? Not from a teaching standpoint but an actual-"

"Book," you finish his sentence, "Like, a book book."

His chuckle reverberates in the room, and you imagine his smile inwardly wishing you could visually see it, "Exactly. Like a book book."

When you spread your fingers along the table, you happen to brush his, though unintentional, you freeze, his touch lingering before he clears his throat, closing the thicker book, and standing to his feet to retrieve what you assume is a story he has in mind for you.

"What- what is it about?" You question, turning your body to face the direction of his footsteps.

"That is something you will have to find out," and with that, he lays the book on the table in front of you, the slight touch of his arm against your shoulder giving you feelings you repudiate.

-

Swans swim across the glistening lake, their bright orange feet paddling beneath tinged green ripples. Tiger lilies bloom beside towering cattails giving ribbiting toads a place of refuge. Your heart swells at the scene, perfumes of cardinal flowers waft in your direction due to the subtle breeze. The sun rests directly between the sky and the hills ahead, its flames keeping the atmosphere warm, your feet kicking along the pavement while your hands remain on either side of the bench you are seated upon.

When darkness hovers over your eyes, you realize large palms are pressed against your eyelids, your heart hammering before turning to see his face. Bright teeth show below his squinting eyes, shoulders quaking from your ajar mouthed gape- he leans onto the back of the bench letting your humored eyes and shaking head deem his fate. Leading him to the edge of the stream like a character from a storybook, he's entranced by your seducing gaze, not prepared for the shove you give- him tumbling into the water backward, arms flailing producing droplets that nicker your cheeks.

Laughter from your lips is the music to his ears once he manages to stand to his feet- knee-deep and drenched- the swans fly off- their shadows hovering above- he reaches for you, lifting you by your waist, both of you plummeting simultaneously into the water. Your fingers grip his arms, him lifting you for air- the hilarity of the moment refusing to dispel. Automatically, your arms wrap around his shoulders, the warmth of his soaked chest allures you enough to where your eyes latch with his. You've read of a scenario similar to what you're fantasizing- the pause of realization when the characters hold their gaze, lips parting almost instinctively, tips of noses brushing yet you have no idea how to imagine the sensation of a kiss even with his breath swiping your chin. Desire to loom in every aspect, you move your fingertips to trace his face, letting his aura captivate-

-

"[Y/N]?"

Gasping, your shoulders tense, realization dawning that it's Taehyung, him appearing at your bedroom door in preparation for your next lesson. "I'm sorry, [Y/N], I didn't mean to frighten you. How has reading been going?" Taehyung's heart nearly melts when he sees your lips form the sweetest smile. You timorously face down, fidgeting your fingers, "I love it," you murmur, him settling in the chair beside you.

"In that case," though you can't see it, you can hear the smile in his voice, "how about we have our lesson outside, today?"

Worry clouds your expression at his proposal, "But- but I can't see it," your words are hardly above a whisper.

"Ah, but you can feel it,"

Taehyung remains by your side the entire walk outside of the school building, your cane tapping along in front of you though you trust that Taehyung will never let anything happen to you. Footsteps trample the pavement until they meet the quiet crunch of grass. Chirps of countless birds welcome you with the pooling sound of water- quacking ducks waddle along the edge- honking geese rattle off in the reserve.

"Where- where are we?" you stammer, your head poised as if you can see the Heavens. Taehyung's large hand slightly rests at the small of your back, leading you to a bench, helping you settle onto it, the metal warm from the sun rays that are evident.

"The lake," he answers once he sits next to you maintaining his distance, "It's too beautiful of a day to keep you cooped up in your room. I think you deserve a break." His words touch your heart a whole lot more than he knows. "Here," he says, his presence disappearing momentarily before you feel him relaxing into the seat beside you once again. Gesturing in your direction, you're uncertain of what he's doing- that's when soft fingers lead yours to feel the smoothness of something, the fragrance of it convivial to your nose, the leafy stem revealing it to be a flower.

"It feels," you breathe, "it feels beautiful."

"I knew you'd like it," you hear him sniff the floret, the urge you're fighting leaves you in defeat for you turn to face him, the curiosity imminent from every piece of your soul.

"Can I?" you pause, lifting your hand to level with where your shoulder is. Taehyung's eyes widen, swallowing the lump in his throat because the butterflies he's feeling reflect the thumping of your heart though neither of you voices it. With your fingertips, you find his chin, tracing tenderly along the edge of his jaw then moving toward his ear, tufts of hair tickle your fingers though you yearn to see the color of the soft strands. Sensibly your digits trail to find his eyebrows, discovering he's wearing a hat that covers the majority of his head- you then find his nose pausing over the spot you imagine a little freckle, soon brushing his lips, you unintentionally inch closer to him, his breath hitching though the burning crave between both of you is undeniably smothering.

"[Y/N], I-" Taehyung whispers.

"Please," you choke, your thumbs resting on the corners of his parted lips. You read in the story of how this feels, how the emotions between two people can be so strong- though the intent of the story was more to focus on nature- your heart mostly belonged to the love between the two characters. The love you long for with the man of your dreams. "Let me," your nose burns from the tears gathering in your eyes. When his large hands move to cup your face, you feel his forehead rest upon yours, his shaky breaths mirroring your own, giving you the permission you've so desperately longed for. Without further disinclination, you close the gap, his warm lips so soft you're nearly dizzy from the sensation; your face eases, your muscles relax as you melt into his kiss, you lean more into him, giving him a chance to embrace you completely.

You may not be able to see the world, in fact, you will never be able to envision it,

But you can feel it. Because right here in your arms, you have the world who's taught you the most.

The world who brings the vision to you.

[chqnverse]

can we kiss forever? | l.f

synopsis: everything you wished for suddenly gets ripped away now you are alone with your thoughts running wild and the sun shining on you.

pairing: lee felix x female reader

genre: angst, little bit fluff

word count: 0.8k

warnings: Sad reader and thats it

authors note: please keep in mind that this is all angsty and sad

I try to reach you 

I can't hide

How strongs of feeling

When we dive

I cross the Ocean of my mind…

The wind blew in your face, your hair moving with it but you didn't care. It felt nice to just walk along the beach and let the wind blow in your face, ruining your Hair style but it didn't matter at all. Nothing matters at all right now. Just the waves splashing on the beach, softly touching your warm feet. You sight at the relaxing feeling. You needed to get your mind off Him. You needed to stop thinking about the cute boy that made your heart swell with love. You stopped on your way and turned toward the Ocean. The Sun was going down. It looked so beautiful. If you could you would draw it and keep it forever. Those beautiful colors, the way the Ocean looks, the way it made your feel, it was just relaxing. Your dress moves with the flow of the water. The water was warm as it touched your feed, keeping them warm. The sun warmed your skin so you wouldn't get cold. Your Mind was almost empty. Almost. 

Just one thing was on your Mind. It wasn't a big surprise to be honest he was always on your mind even though he was miles away. You let your shoulders relax. You didn't need to stress at all right now. Right now all that matters is the Warmth of the Water and the soft glow of the sun. You heard his voice soft and gentle asking you if he could hold you which you gladly nodded as an answer, you eyes remain closed. You feel arms sneak around your waist holding you in place, keeping your from running away, not that you would. His face snuggled in your neck, his gentle breath tickling your neck making a small smile appear on your face.

My Wounds are healing

With the Salt

All my Senses intensify 

Whenever you and I

We dive across

The Ocean of my Mind...

You put your hands on his as you feel a soft kiss on your neck. The longer you stand like this the more you feel yourself relaxing in his touch. As you heard him whisper sweet nothings in your ear. Praises filled with soft thank yous. You didn't want to talk right now, you just wanted to enjoy the rare moment you have with your boyfriend. His deep raspy voice ringing in your ears makes you bask in pure happiness. You slowly turn around his arms loosening their hold on you just enough for you to move and turn around to face him. You saw his freckles and couldn't hold yourself back from touching them. His eyes closed and he leans in your touch. You smile at his cute actions and kiss his nose, he scrunched his nose making you repeat Your action. Your hands Stayed on his cheeks softly moving your thumbs making him hum softly. It made your heart jump that you could make him so happy and smile. He always showed you how much you love him. He opens his beautiful brown eyes and they immediately find your y/e/c ones. His hold on you tightened and you both just stood there holding each other while losing yourself in each others eyes. You felt his soft breath in your face, he smelled like peppermint. His lips looked plump and full as the sun shines in his face so you could see his freckles better.  He leaned down and closed the small gap between your lips. Kissing him made butterflies erupt in your stomach as you kissed him back. your heart beats faster you smiled against his lips. The kiss wasn't rushed; it was a soft kiss that was filled with passion and love you have for each other. 

But in the end I drown

You push me down,down

Oh,they say when you

Call my Name

i felt pain

When you Came 

You threw the picture in the fire, you saw it burn the fire destroying the picture fully. The picture of you and him in the sunset, kissing each other, at the bottom written Can we kiss forever in his beautiful and unique handwriting. Tears ran down your cheeks as you watched the picture burn down to dust.

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

I hope you liked it

You can find my Masterlist here

[elvendara]

Sugar and Spice Day 1

July 12th

Ice Cream Date

Yoosung opened the door and stepped into the airconditioned shop. He checked his phone. The profile picture of his date was on the screen. The man had red hair, green eyes, and freckles. He was also wearing eyeliner which made the green of his eyes really stand out. He had been surprised when they matched, but also excited and had said yes when the man, Saeran, had DM’d him and asked him on a date.

Looking around he couldn’t see a single red head. He checked the time. Yoosung was a little early so maybe he had arrived first. He made his way to a table in the front by the window. Watching the people walking outside he wondered again if he’d be stood up. Why would an attractive guy like Saeran even give him a second glance? His attention was inward and he didn’t notice those few people he passed.

“Yoosung?” he heard, and paused, turning slowly to see who had called him. A man with white hair and pink tips was looking at him. Yoosung looked him over, the hair was different, but he recognized the brilliant green eyes, like the ocean depths.

“Saeran?” he asked.

“Yeah.” The man grinned as he stood. “Sorry, I keep forgetting to change my profile pic.” He rubbed his hand on the back of his neck. Yoosung smiled, noting how differently they were dressed. Saeran wore a red shirt with a black leather coat, said coat having metal chains and zippers, most of which didn’t seem to have a specific function. There was a black collar around his neck with metal spikes and a matching cuff on his right wrist, his nails painted black. He wore black jeans and heavy biker boots.

In contrast, Yoosung wore his pink metal hair clips, keeping his blond hair out of his eyes. He had decided to match his hair clips and wore pink eyeliner and gloss. His outfit was an off the shoulder pink crop top with a purple paint splatter pattern, skinny purple jeans and pink platform sneakers. Around his left wrist was wrapped a pink, blue, and purple beaded necklace and his nails were a glittering deep pink. He suddenly felt like an over sprinkled strawberry ice cream cone.

“Well, it’s really nice to meet you.” Yoosung said, holding his hand out to shake.

“You too, you look great.” Saeran said as he took Yoosung’s hand in his. He held it longer than he needed to, but Yoosung didn’t mind. Those green eyes locked onto his own amethyst ones were mesmerizing.

“We should probably order huh?” Saeran said, letting go of his hand. It suddenly felt cold and lonely.

“Sure.” Yoosung strode towards the ice cream display. As he walked past Saeran, he felt the man put his right hand on his lower back, as if guiding him. He kept it there, walking up beside him until they were in front of the display case, when he took his hand off. Again, that feeling of pressing coldness and emptiness.

“What can I get for you?” The girl behind the counter asked. She must have been no older than sixteen. Her brown hair was held back in a ponytail, her chocolate-colored eyes intent on Saeran. It wasn’t difficult to see she was enamored by him. What was it they said? Girls like bad boys, right? Well, Saeran sure fit the stereotype, though it seemed to Yoosung that he was quite gentle. Maybe the tough guy look was a mask to keep people at bay? He really wanted to find out.

Yoosung watched as Saeran practically salivated over the choice of ice cream. He ended up with a waffle cone and three scoops of ice cream, vanilla, chocolate, and strawberry. It made Yoosung grin to see how much like a little boy in a candy store he looked like.

Yoosung ordered a cup with a brownie at the bottom and two scoops on top, mint chocolate chip and butter pecan. The green reminded him of Saeran’s eyes. He felt his cheeks blush when he ordered it. They took their seats and began to eat.

“You really like ice cream huh?” Yoosung said.

Saeran’s eyes went wide, then softened. “I do, I like sweet things.” He eyed Yoosung and smirked before suggestively licking his ice cream. Yoosung swallowed, feeling like a fish on a hook being eyed by a hungry fisherman. It should feel uncomfortable, but it only raised his temperature with excitement. He fiddled with his ice cream, taking a spoonful and gulping it down.

“So, on your profile it says you like gardening? I have to be honest…” Yoosung set his spoon in his cup and leaned forward towards Saeran, “…I kind of thought that was a lie, or at least an exaggeration?” he stated jokingly.

Saeran threw his head back and laughed, his Adam’s apple bouncing, straining against the studded collar around his neck. “Oh no, it’s true. I like gardening. Sometimes it’s nicer to be around a bunch of beautiful flowers and plants than around people. They’re easier to understand at least.”

“Must be nice, I have a black thumb myself, I couldn’t even keep an ivy alive! It’s supposed to be one of the easiest plants not to kill.”

“True, aside from cactus, maybe you should start with one of those.” Saeran teased.

“Maybe. It certainly couldn’t hurt to add some greenery in my apartment.” Yoosung shrugged.

“How about you? Everything on your profile true?” Saeran asked.

“I think so. Well, maybe I tried to make myself look better than I am.” He laughed.

“How so?”

“I might have forgotten to mention how much time I spend on gaming.” He stated. Saeran laughed again, making Yoosung feel accomplished in a way. For some reason, it didn’t seem like Saeran laughed a lot. There was something behind his eyes that spoke of great pain.

“I think I can handle a little gaming in a boyfriend.” Saeran said, once he was in control again.

The statement startled Yoosung. Boyfriend? He was too stunned to speak.

“How come you’re on a dating app anyway? You seem like an attractive guy, smart, charming, and fun.” Saeran asked. Yoosung wondered for a brief moment if he was teasing him again, but no, he seemed genuinely interested.

“Well…” Yoosung shrugged, “…I was pretty popular in high school, but too focused on schoolwork to have time for a girlfriend. And when I started university, it seemed like whoever I liked didn’t like me back, and whoever liked me, I wasn’t interested in. I don’t know, most girls just called me ‘cute’ and treated me like a puppy. Though that didn’t feel so bad either.” He was a little embarrassed to admit that part, but why not?

“Girlfriend huh?” Saeran glanced down at the forgotten ice cream in his hand. Yoosung was about to speak but then he saw the smirk on the other man’s face. “How did you end up here with me then?”

“I didn’t choose a preference. Honestly, I barely glanced at the app, even when there was a match. But…when I saw your profile, I couldn’t help myself. I had to know more.”

“So I intrigued you? Is that it? Why?”

“You seemed like such a contradiction. The fact that you were hot didn’t hurt either.” Yoosung said. He surprised himself with his boldness, yet he hoped he would get another laugh out of the man. He wasn’t disappointed.

Saeran rubbed his mouth, as if this was more than his muscles were used to, then he looked up at Yoosung. There was a splash of color across the apples of his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. It made his freckles stand out. So Cute!

“I…I really like you Yoosung.” He whispered, as if he was embarrassed to admit it.

“I like you too.” He reached his left hand out and laid it on Saeran’s right hand. The studded wrist cuff the other man wore and the pastel necklace wrapped around his own wrist were a striking contrast that was more than aesthetically pleasing.

[phantom-curve]

happy second birthday!! for the prompt list, how about number 8 and willex? au can be totally up to you!

Thank you! This one got away from me a bit, but I thoroughly enjoyed writing it and I hope you enjoy reading it!! Set in the gimme a chance AU, from before that fic starts, I give you flustered, protective Alex, hot for his boyfriend Willie, and some extra brown-haired himbos thrown in for fun.

#8: shielding the other one with their body (Rated T for language)

When Willie received the text from Alex inviting him to come watch his band practice, he thought it would be a nice, lowkey way of meeting the other boys that made up Alex’s family. They’d been dating for a few months now, ever since he had accidentally run Alex over while skateboarding down Hollywood Boulevard (not his finest moment, but hey, he got the guy in the end, right?), and he had heard plenty of stories about Luke and Reggie and the various shenanigans that they got up to on a near constant basis. Alex always tried to sound annoyed when he talked about his best friends and their ridiculous antics, but there was an undercurrent of true affection that underscored all his stories and told Willie how much he truly cared for them. He had been itching to meet them for a while now, but if there was one thing he had learned early on about Alex, it was that the drummer needed things to happen on his own timeline and not a moment sooner. Willie didn’t fully understand the need for a strict schedule and complete understanding of every situation, but if it made Alex happy, it made him happy. He was more than willing to go with whatever flow Alex directed.

What he was not expecting was to walk into a veritable war zone upon entering the studio the band rented out for practice.

Instruments were scattered about the space as if they had been dropped exactly where each boy had originally been standing, no regard for the guitar stands spaced out along the wall. One of the hi-hats on Alex’s drum set was overturned, the small stool he sat on to play shoved far away from the set, like Alex had stood in a hurry and not bothered to roll it back into place. There was a suspicious puddle near an open doorway at the back of the space. Not a single one of the Sunset Curve boys was inside. Willie entered cautiously, resetting Alex’s stool and righting the hi-hat. Loud yells sounded from outside, and slowly Willie made his way to the open door.

There was a small fenced in yard behind the studio, a few bicycles stacked and locked together along the outside wall. And, spread out across the yard, three 18-year-old boys with water guns pointed at each other, their hair and clothes absolutely soaked. The two brunettes were laughing, happy smiles stretched across their faces as they sprayed Willie’s boyfriend in a joint attack.

“You guys are such fucking children!” Alex was screeching, hands over his head in a pitiful attempt at shielding himself. “I told you Willie was coming by today; can’t you be normal for once?!”

“Awh, c’mon Lex!” The guy in a cut-off muscle tee lowered his water gun, grinning as he moved forward to shake his head like a dog, flinging water droplets in a wide arc. “It’s way too fuckin hot to play today. Live a little!”

Alex looked up as the other boy in a black tank top also lowered his weapon. Glaring, he whipped off his soggy light pink hoodie and threw it in the direction of the other two, smacking the first one right across the face with a loud, wet slap.

Willie’s mouth went dry. Alex was wearing a pale blue t-shirt, and the water from their fight had clearly soaked all the way through his hoodie. The light material clung to his chest and arms like it was painted on, the sight more beautiful than anything Willie had ever seen before. With his blonde hair flopping over his face, muscles glistening in the afternoon sun, Alex looked like an angel that had just emerged from the sea. Willie let himself appreciate the sight for a long moment before clearing his throat.

“Don’t stop on my account, Hotdog. Looks like you needed to cool off a bit.”

He grinned, loving the flustered way Alex suddenly stood fully at attention, running his hands through his wet hair and blessing Willie with a small peek at his toned stomach as his shirt rode up just a bit.

“Willie! Hi!”

The other two boys let out a chorus of oooooh Willie! in the background, but Willie couldn’t find it in him to focus on anything other than the sight of his boyfriend approaching, lips stretched into a cute little nervous smile. If he had known Alex would look this good all wet and ruffled, he would have dragged his butt to the beach long before now.

“I swear, I told them to be on their best behavior today, but it’s like talking to a brick wall sometimes.”

“Trust me, I do not mind.”

Willie let his gaze move slowly from the top of Alex’s head down and back up again, laughing softly as he watched Alex’s cheeks turn pink. Alex opened his mouth to say something, but then, almost as if he had a second sense for mischief, he was flinging himself in front of Willie, nearly slamming them both to the ground as he whipped his head around.

“No! Willie is off limits!!”

The warning was useless, cold water splashing along Alex’s back and splattering across Willie’s face and arms. The other two boys let out a howl of laughter, approaching fast and furious and unleashing a deluge of water that Alex’s body did absolutely nothing to shield Willie from. Alex sputtered and coughed against the water hitting his face until Willie finally reached up to tuck his boyfriend’s head into his neck, hiding his own face in the top of Alex’s wet hair. He shook with laughter, unable to be mad even as Alex growled into his neck, muttering curses against the other boys all the while. After another minute or two of unrelenting downpour, the water slowed to a trickle. Alex seemed to know what that meant before Willie did, unwrapping himself and turning around to face his bandmates.

“You are so dead.”

The brown-haired boys exchanged a look of panic, their water guns run dry while Alex still gripped one that Willie just now realized had a full tank. With a scream they dashed away, Alex sprinting after them and cornering them against the fence so he could hose them down without mercy. Willie hooted and hollered, egging him on, because it he thought soaking wet Alex was hot, soaking wet Alex as an avenging angel was even hotter. Willie bit his lip, enjoying the view for the short time that it took for Alex to empty out the tank on his water gun. When his ammo supply finally ran dry, he returned to Willie’s side, the other boys following close behind, all three of them laughing and shoving each other playfully. Alex slipped his hand into Willie’s, blushing again when Willie reached up to place a kiss on his cheek.

“My hero.”

Alex rolled his eyes, but the smile playing at the edge of his lips told Willie he liked the title. Willie reached a hand out to the other boys.

“Nice to meet you guys, I’m Willie.”

“Hey man, good to meet you,” the one in the cut off spoke first, bounding forward to grasp Willie’s hand. “Alex talks about you literally all the time. I’m Luke.”

Luke ducked away from Alex’s hand as he reached over to slap him, laughing manically. The other boy stepped forward, shaking Willie’s hand with unrestrained enthusiasm.

“I’m Reggie! Luke’s right, Alex does talk about you a lot. All good things though! It’s awesome to finally meet you!”

“Likewise.” Willie grinned, knocking his shoulder against Alex’s as the blonde slapped a hand over his face.

“Okay, okay, yes I talk about you a lot. Freakin sue me.”

“I think it’s cute. I talk about you a lot too, ya know,” Willie murmured, delighting in the pink that stained Alex’s cheeks yet again. Man, he would never get tired of that reaction.

“Oh yeah? Who are you gossiping about me to, pretty boy?”

Willie felt his own cheeks burn at the nickname, leaning in closer so his nose was nearly touching Alex’s.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Okay, as cute as all this lovestruck shit is, these jeans are not the most comfortable when they’re wet,” Luke’s voice broke the moment, and Willie coughed slightly to cover up his laugh as Alex let out an embarrassed squeak. “Let’s pack it up and go back to the apartment for dry clothes and then we can go get tacos!”

“Oooo tacos! Yes!! Luke, is that one guy selling over by the bar today do you think? His eloté is the best!”

Reggie was practically bouncing, bopping behind Luke as the other boy made his way into the studio and began to clean up the mess left from what Willie guessed was the beginning of their impromptu water fight. Willie slipped his hand into Alex’s letting himself be tugged along as his boyfriend unlocked the stack of bikes.

“I like your friends.”

Alex glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, smiling softly through the hair that flopped in front of his face. Willie moved it away, letting his hand linger behind the other boy’s ear for just a moment.

“They’re alright I guess.”

But the fondness in his tone told Willie they were more than alright. They were Alex’s family, and the love between them was genuine and ran deep. Willie grabbed his skateboard from the spot he had left it next to the bikes, tucking it under his arm as Reggie and Luke reappeared from the studio, guitars safely stowed in cases strapped to their backs. Reggie was still talking a mile a minute as Luke turned to lock the back door.

“-and then we should have a Star Wars marathon. Wait!”

Reggie turned to Willie with a serious expression that looked frighteningly out of place on his freckled face. Willie gulped slightly, sure this would be the point where Alex’s brothers would start their interrogation to make sure he was actually deserving of their best friend.

“Did you call Alex ‘Hotdog’ earlier?”

Willie relaxed, laughing loudly as Alex threw his hands up.

“God, you tell a guy about the worst food poisoning of your life one time and you’re stuck with a horrible nickname for the rest of forever,” Alex grumbled.

Luke and Reggie began laughing alongside Willie, who took advantage of Alex’s grumpiness to sneak another kiss on his cheek, lacing their hands together as the group began walking down the street back towards the Sunset Curve apartment, rolling their bikes alongside them.

Willie didn’t say it out loud, but he was pretty sure that was the moment he realized he was gonna love Alex for the rest of his life.

Send me prompts for my second birthday!

[crushing-on-nico-di-angelo]

Okay, here's the actual chapter 3

7 Nights in Cabin 13

Nico took a small step backwards. “I’m sorry,” Will hesitated. “I shouldn’t have asked you, I know you probably don’t want to and--”

“Hey, woah, I never said I didn’t want to. I was just shocked. Not everyday I get asked to sleep with someone-- I- I mean… you know what I mean.”

Will giggled. “So does this mean you do want to?”

“...Yeah. I guess it does.”

Read (and maybe give kudos?) on ao3

~~~~

Lying in Nico’s bed, side by side, wasn’t as awkward as Will thought it would be. The comforter was very comforting and warm. The warmth of Nico made his heart beat faster, he hadn’t slept next to anyone since he was about seven years old having a nightmare about goats and crawled into his mami’s bed.

Nico turned to him, so Will made the necessary adjustments.

“I hope you don’t mind that I kept the window open. The light… helps.”

“I’m the son of Apollo, Neeks. I don’t mind at all.” Nico’s face softened. Will stared at his eyes, and he swore there was a universe of activity and stars in a dark brown expanse. He was lost in trying to pinpoint every constellation that he didn’t notice Nico’s hand reaching for his hair until he felt the tentative ruffle.

“Ah, sorry. I can stop if you’d like. Bianca…” Nico cleared his throat. “Bianca used to do this to me when I was having trouble sleeping.”

“Don’t stop,” Will murmured, once again feeling the effects of sleepiness. “Please.”

Nico closed his eyes and continued softly playing with Will’s hair. Will was simultaneously hyper-aware of how nice it felt to have someone play with his hair and extremely at peace, letting sleep overtake him.

<i> A wedding. Drinking gasoline. Pain in his right leg. Silence; eternal, deafening silence. </i>

When Will opened his eyes, he was acutely aware of the hand resting on his head. A bit of drool was pooled underneath his chin, but how could he move when Nico was still asleep holding his head? Nothing to do now but stay still and think.

<i> Alright Solace… I’ve been putting it off too long. How did I get here? …Nathan is how. But I don’t want to think about him. Which is fine, because I haven’t seen him in years, so I can’t exactly pin this on him. How did I get here <b> now? </b> ...I got into my head again is how.</i>

He remembers it, his relapse, but not exactly.

He was showing Clarisse how to complete an advanced archery move. He may not have been the best in comparison to his siblings, but he and Clarisse had been best friends after the Battle of Manhattan. They had gotten clean together. He had to help her with the archery.

But then. The way he positioned Clarisse’s arm. He remembered that was exactly how Fletcher positioned his. He remembered Michael doing the same for other campers. He finished teaching Clarisse the move and left to go to the showers.

He pushed the thought out of his mind-- or, he tried to. He couldn’t think of anything at all, and his breathing was getting so, so heavy. He turned on the water to hide the noises he was making, hyperventilating. They were dead, they were dead, and he <i> knew</i> they were dead. Why couldn’t he get it through that thick skull of his? He knew they were dead he saw it happen, saw the bridge collapse. But it was all he could think of, all just looping through his mind, over and over and over. No release. No end in sight to the looping thoughts. Breathing breathing breathing only not in the way he was supposed to. Suffocating on too much air and not enough oxygen.

And then the dysphoria kicked in.

His chest hurt. His chest hurt so fucking much. In addition to the binding he was doing, he was breathing so, so hard. He wanted to take the binder off, but his clothes were too wet and it was stuck. Thoughts looping, never stopping. Dead, dead, dead. Never going to be a real man. The sound of the explosion being nothing and everything to him all at once. Losing the first person to help him. Wanting so badly to hurt himself but having nothing to do so with. And then remembering what he did in the following months.

He let the water of the shower run over his soaked clothes while he focused on what he did after they died. The Hypnos cabin, they helped him forget it, but in the wake of his panic attack he remembered where he put them.

The last of his stash.

The next thing he knew, he was frantically searching for pennies with a flashlight in a camp that didn’t even use American currency-- his mind finally off his dead siblings-- at midnight outside of the Hades cabin. And thank Zeus for that.

...He was a weak person. As soon as things got tough, he went with the convenient solution. He’d always been a bad friend and a bad son because of it, and he likely always would be. Things got better for a bit, but looking at himself now? How could he ever think of himself as a good person after this, when it’s clear that he’ll always be fucking… <i>weak</i> like this….

This wasn’t something he was going to forgive himself for anytime soon. Not at all. Especially not for concerning Nico like this. He could have handled himself.

<i> Could I have handled myself?</i> he wondered. Nico shifted in his sleep, his arm now draping over Will’s shoulder. <i>Does it even matter right now? It’s too late to change it.</i>

He tried to settle into sleep again, but he found that he couldn’t. He also didn’t want to think anymore about what happened to get him here in the first place, when he could be messing around with his friends and cabin-mates while canoeing. He could be trying for the camp record on the lava wall. He could be doing a million things… but he fucked it up. Gods, he already said he didn’t want to think about it. So why was he?

He sighed softly, not wanting to disturb Nico. He snuggled into Nico’s embrace, not realizing how close they had gotten when they were asleep. His nose was nearly touching Nico’s and he noticed the faint freckles splashed over his nose and under his eyes. They were so light that you had to be inches away to notice them, but Will suspected that he would <i>only</i> notice them from now on. Just like his eyes, Will felt compelled to trace out constellations.

Will had posters and posters back in his home in Austin about stars and space exploration. He memorized constellations and had a hyperfixation on planets from ages seven to eleven. He still had all of that knowledge in his head, and it was remarkable to him how many constellations he found on Nico’s face. He pulled one of his hands from under the covers and started going over them, trying not to touch Nico’s face. He did lightly trace Nico’s nose, and was surprised when Nico didn’t even stir. He started feeling more and more relaxed, tracing what was almost the big dipper; he eventually fell asleep again with his hand cupping Neek’s cheeks.

He dreamt rough dreams, but was fortunate enough to wake up not remembering any of them.

~~~~~~

Will woke up and felt an absence of warmth. He saw Nico leaning against the doorframe, his silhouette framed by the hall light. He stood there, unmoving. Will would have wondered if he had fallen asleep again if not for the fact that he was standing fully upright. Nico knocked gently on the wood of the frame before walking away. Will wondered what that was all about but didn’t want to ask. He stood from the bed and walked to Nico’s bathroom to splash his face. He stood up and was hit with dizziness. There was a clock by Nico’s bed which read ‘8 P.M.’

“Ah,” he murmured himself. “That’s it.”

He fell asleep with Nico at around noon, which meant he hadn’t eaten in nearly 8 hours. He shivered from the cold. He grabbed a jacket hanging from the bed and walked out.

“Hey, Neeks,” Will felt a bit odd. They had been so intimate with each other earlier, he wondered if that would make things awkward between them.

“Hello, William. How’d you sleep?” Nico seemed to not mind, so Will decided to play it cool.

“Alright. I dreamt, so…”

Nico chuckled. “So not the best it could have been. I made us pot pie, it’s in the oven right now.”

“Holy shit, deathboy. You always cook so much?” Nico smiled and shook his head.

“Just felt like it lately, I suppose. It’s almost ready, grab a seat.”

~~~~~

After about an hour of eating and delirious laughter, it suddenly came to light that Nico had never played 20 questions.

“What the hell do you mean you’ve never played?” Will was incredulous. “Didn’t you used to go to boarding school?” Nico was still grinning from the laughter.

“Well, yes but I was around 10 years old! I didn’t play games like that.” Will shook his head in disbelief.

“We’re remedying that today, di Angelo.”

“How do you play?”

“I ask you a question, you answer it, and then you ask me and I answer. The cycle continues until we each ask 20 questions.”

Nico hummed to himself. “Is anything off-limits?”

Will knew what he didn’t want him to ask, but instead said, “On my end? No. Is there anything you don’t want me to ask you?”

“...I suppose not.”

“Alright. Feel free to say ‘skip’ for any question. No big deal, I’ll just ask a new one.”

“Alright. Do you go first or me?”

Will always liked to ask the same question during 20 questions. “If you had the chance to have dinner with anyone, living or dead, who would it be?”

“Hm…” Nico took a deep breath. “Does my mother count?”

Will’s breath hitched. “She-- she does,” <i> Treat it normal, Solace.</i> “She seems like she’d be a good choice. She died in the 50’s?”

“30’s, actually. Right before I was moved to the Lotus Hotel.”

“...Oh. I’m sorry, Nico.” Nico waved him off.

“It’s fine, I was little. There’s just… so much I wish I knew, you know?”

“For sure…” <i> Gods, this poor kid. </i> “Still, I’m sorry. You were just a kid.”

“Yeah, well. Anyway. My turn, right?”

Will could tell that conversation was over, so he nodded.

“What’s your tattoo?” Nico asked, to which Will smiled.

“It’s… here.” He pulled down his shirt enough for the sun to show. Nico leaned forward to get a closer look.

“It’s really pretty. I saw it on that first night after you showered. Why did you get it?”

“Lee Fletcher.”

“Lee Fletcher? Who’s that?”

And who was Lee Fletcher? Lee Fletcher was the man who meant everything to Will. He had a mom and two sisters, and no father. Lee Fletcher was the first guy in his life to act as a guardian to him. He was four years older and always acted as an older brother even before Will knew that Lee was a guy. Lee taught Will archery and how to talk to girls. Later, Lee would teach him to talk to boys. Lee was powerful and smart. He was so, so brave. He would heal people just by <i>singing</i> to them. He was everything that Will wanted to be.

After he died, Will was inconsolable. Of course, during the war he was fine. He was cool and collected: a healer, the child of Apollo. But after? He started sneaking out more, trying to escape everything and everyone. Started drinking more… that’s when he met Nathan. He knew that wasn’t the question, though. Lee Fletcher, the memory of Lee Fletcher, is what kept him going through the darkest time in his life. He owed the world to him.

“Lee Fletcher… well…”

[lilravenswritings]

Waves of my Heart

A commission I did for the wonderful @witchesconstellation <3

Thank you so much for letting me work with your ocs and give them the honeymoon they deserve!

Oc: Keira Shepard (Merit), Jules Merit

A day at the beach

2k Words

********

Beautiful scarlet strands floated in the air behind the pale woman running along the sand, her laughter a melody of music Jules never wanted to live without again. The sound of the crashing waves beside them deafening, splashing tiny droplets of water onto their feet.

Jules ran after his wife, his joy palpable, overwhelming. To be with her at this moment, knowing they had each other for the rest of their lives, everything felt right in the world.

The sun had just begun it’s descent towards the horizon, bringing with it a light breeze. Keira’s black cover up danced with the wind.

Catching up to her easily, he lifted her, spinning around dramatically. Keira squealed, clutching tight to his shoulders. Feet safely planted back on the ground, she pressed her lips against his gently.

This kiss was no different from the others before it, a fire melting ice, an earthquake cracking a foundation, a firework lighting the night sky. Jules could feel how much his wife loved him whenever they joined like this; she put her whole weight behind it, cupping the back of his neck like she never wanted to be apart.

“You were right,” he said, pressing his forehead to hers. A questioning hum vibrated through her, eyes shut. “The beach is definitely the best place to spend our honeymoon.”

Her cheeky grin could have lit up a thousand night skies. “I told you so.” They pulled apart, her melted chocolate eyes searching him, amused.

I don’t deserve her. The knowledge crashed through him every time they shared a tender moment. He watched as her love twisted to sorrow.

“Don’t do that,” she chastised. Her hand cupped his cheek, and he nuzzled into it. “Jules, there is nobody in the world I would rather be with. You are everything to me, don’t let your doubt get in the way of that.”

It wasn’t the first time they’d had that conversation; she’d always find a way to let him know. Still, the little voice in his head never stopped trying to bring him down. “I know.”

Another chaste kiss, a tug of his hand, and Keira was able to, mostly, dispel the thoughts. She chatted animatedly about the wedding, all the cards they had gotten, and how sweet they all were. How it was so very lovely to see their families together at the reception.

She described how it felt to walk down the aisle and see him standing there, handsome in his suit and tie. How emotional it made her to know they were seconds away from belonging to each other. How their first dance made her feel, and how the song they danced to would always be her favorite for the rest of eternity.

A deep flush colored her cheeks, making her light freckles stand out. Their hands stayed connected throughout the walk back to their belongings; Jules kissed the top of hers every so often. She couldn’t hide her shy smile whenever he did, biting her lip and looking at the sand at their feet.

“I love you, Jules.” He startled at the words, having been deep in thought. She didn’t look at him to know he had heard her. It was just something she knew he knew, never even questioning whether it was obvious or not.

Keira loved him, and she was his Mrs. Merit. He beamed, pulling her close to wrap and arm around her shoulder. “I love you, my wife.”

She kissed his chest, warmth spreading through him at the action. “Let’s go swimming?” She suggested, turning them towards the water before the question had even been fully revealed. He followed obediently; why would he ever say no?

Water splashed everywhere as she lunged in, instantly diving beneath the water. Juled meandered in after her, moving much, much slower to adjust to the cooler temperature. Keira scoffed, throwing water at him playfully. His eyes went wide, he stumbled backwards. “Hey-!”

“Don’t be dramatic, it’s not that bad! Get in here,” she laughed, hitting the water at him again.

A sound of disbelief flowed off of him. Oh, you’re in for it now.” Keira squealed as he dove into her, tackling her under the water. She sputtered when they came back up, Jules’ arms wrapped around hers. Water dripped from their hair into their lashes.

They both cackled, peppered kisses shared between them before Keira puledl him back into the water. Using her feet to kick off of him, she had hoped for a quick getaway.

He caught hold of her foot last minute, tugging her back. He lifted her into the air, goosebumps rising along their skin as the air hit them. She giggled, struggling to loose his grip. “Jules, I’m cold. Come on, let me go!”

“Oh, you’re cold? Here, let me help you with that.”

Understanding immediately, Keira squirmed roughly. “No, no don’t you-” He let her go, tossing her into the water kicking and screaming. A loud gasp echoed around them as she emerged, amusement tickling her voice when she shouted: “Jules!”

“What?” He mocked with a grin. “You said you were cold.” She kicked water at him again.

Later, as Keira laid with her back pressed against Jules on their beach chair, they watched as the sky bled from blue to yellow, to orange, to purple, eventually turning into the black of night; stars shone bright without the lights of the city to dull their glow.

“Look!” Keira shouted, pointing up. “A shooting star! Quick, make a wish.”

Jules placed a kiss on her temple. “Everything I could ever want and more is right here beside me.”

He could just imagine the blush spreading across her cheeks as she swatted him. “That was so cheesy.” He chuckled, brushing his lips over her freckled shoulder. “I wish to always be this happy with you.”

A satisfied sigh of agreement grazed over her. “You’re right, I wish for that too.” His voice turned soft, quiet, like he didn’t want to disturb the moment. “And that was way cheesier than mine.”

“Not even close!” She scoffed. Then, turning so she could get a good look at him, she asked: “Do you want kids?”

Chewing his lip in thought, he pondered this. Did he want kids? He could picture them, sure. A little girl with Keira’s bright red hair and freckles swinging back and forth on a little playset in their backyard, eyes as blue as his pinched in joy. A brown headed little boy teetering down the stairs to run into Jules’ arms. A ghost of a smile danced over his lips. “With you? Yeah, I’d have them all.”

Her answering grin turned his limbs to mush. “I think we should get a dog too. Maybe a beagle? Although a fish might be the best thing for the kids for the first couple of years.”

“Woah, woah. Slow down there, we just got married. Let’s finish our honeymoon first, yeah?”

Her laugh was girlish and teasing all at the same time. “I know, I was just messing with you.” She paused, eyes drifting over his shoulder in thought. “Although, I would like to know where you see us living in a few years.”

“Hmm,” he pondered, eyes catching on her full lips. “I think a nice ranch style home, with a big fenced in yard for the kids to run around in. A big enough porch for us to sit on one of those swings and watch them, maybe even go out at night to look at the stars. A flower bed on both sides of the steps. No rose bushes, though. I don’t want the kids to get pricked. Maybe some trees in the yard, and a hammock.”

She pushed at his shoulder playfully. “Hey, slow down. We just got married.” Her brown eyes glinted, mischievous but oh so soft at the thought of their future together. His arms tightened around her. He snuggled into her neck, breathing in the soothing scent of coconut mixed with salt from the ocean.

“You’re right, but I can’t help it. I look at you and imagine it all. Imagine our house, our yard, our kids. I think about the adventures we’re going to have, all the places I want to see with you by my side. I think about the mundane things, like cooking you breakfast on Mother’s Day, dancing with you in the kitchen after we’ve put the kids to bed, helping you do laundry even though you know I like my pants folded a certain way.”

She cleared her throat; Jules knew she was holding back tears. “And yet a pet is too much to handle?”

He snorted. “I’m thinking about our kids! Who knows if they’re going to be allergic, or if they’re even going to like the fish. And a beagle? Kind of small, don’t you think? How about something bigger, like a german shepherd-”

“Oh, nice-”

“-or even a husky? A dog to protect the home if I’m away,” he continued, speaking over her remark.

Keira pursed her lips in thought. “I guess we could get a german shepherd and name him Shepard, like my last name.”

“You’re old name,” Jules corrected.

A rush of air came out her nose; laughter. “My old name,” she conceded. She kissed his nose, nuzzled it with hers. “Let’s go down to the water and try to build sandcastles.”

His eyebrow quirked up. “Right now? It’s nearly two in the morning.”

“Exactly! How many people can say that they’ve built sandcastles on the beach at night?” Before Jules could even think to respond, she remarked: “Not a whole lot of people, that’s who.” Her head bobbed in triumph, confident in her decision. How could he ever tell her no?

They walked across the sand, so much cooler now that the sun had been down for hours. The wind held a little more bite. A shiver ran down Jules’ spine.

“That one should go here,” Keira ordered after they had settled in their spot, plopping down a lump of wet sand on the spot she had picked out. “That will be the guard tower. And here, this will be the barracks. Oh, and we can’t forget the moat, who’d have a castle without a moat? That’s just idiotic.”

He’d never get used to the way his heart would swell over these simple moments. How, during even the most mundane of tasks, just being near her, hearing her talk, he’d instantly think I love you, I will never stop loving you, you have my heart.

“Okay! I think we’re ready for the flag now, don’t you my love?”

Swallowing, he put the fabric into her open palm. “Absolutely.” His voice sounded hoarse. She proudly placed it on top, standing to see the finished product. The castle looked… Horrible, if Jules had to be honest. Multiple places were already falling in on itself, the water from the moat overflowing and collapsing it from the bottom.

He’d never tell her though, especially as she pouted and looked to him for comfort. He pulled her into his embrace, instead looking over the beautiful ocean view.

“Look love, you can see the moonlight reflected on the water like it’s right here for us to touch.” He let his fingers drag across the skin along her spine. “I never thought about the fact that you’d be able to see the stars in the water as well.”

“Huh, I don’t think I ever have either.” She hummed, impressed by the revelation. It was one of the many things he loved about her, the way she was always eager and willing to learn anything she possibly could. She drank in information faster than a dehydrated animal, and it was never enough.

Clouds were slowly starting to form in the sky, crossing over the moon to leave them in total darkness for longer than a few seconds. “I think… We should probably get back to the hotel,” he offered, head tilting.

His wife sighed, “I guess we should.” His attention turned to her, inquisitive. She rushed on. “I’m not ready to go home yet. I want to stay on this vacation for the rest of our lives.”

“I want that too,” he whispered. “But we are needed back home. Besides, if we stay here, who will take care of our children? We can’t just leave them with the dog every day.”

She laughed hard, lightly bumping his shoulder with her head. Oh, shut it.”

His grin was infectious. “Never. You’re stuck with me, Keira Merit.”

[leechobsessed]

Last Night

Ella reflects on what (and who) she did last night.

characters: Ella Sagen, Lachlan Lonan, Leila Lonan (of @leila-of-ravens) pairing: Ella Sagen x Lachlan Lonan / Logen words: ~2k warnings: mentions of alcohol, implied sexual activities

etre bleu series, previous chapter

There are three things Ella immediately notices when she wakes up.

One, she is hungover. Not hungover, but she can tell she had one too many drinks the night before from the throbbing in her temples and the sandpaper feel of her mouth.

Two, this is… not her bed. As she blinks the sleep from her eyes, she recognizes the soft and luxurious material of the sheets as those custom of the palace bedrooms. But these are not her sheets, and this is not her room.

Three, she is not alone.

From behind her, she can hear the soft breathing of the other person, feel their fingertips brushing against the bare skin of her back. The contact of their skin against hers brings a flood of memories from the night before; dancing, flirting, kissing, other things, all with—

Lachlan.

Ella’s eyes fly fully open as her mind races through the events that transpired the night before, trying to figure out how, why, she would allow herself to get drunk and fall into bed with someone she just met, let alone her best friend's brother.

Groaning internally, she pulls herself out of bed as carefully as she can and begins to silently collect her clothing from the trail that leads to the bed from the door. 

The curtains are open slightly, letting in just enough light for her to search for her belongings that have been scattered about the room. Next to the bed she finds her underwear, her dress thrown over a chair a few paces away, her shoes leaning against each other next to the door. The pieces of Lachlan’s costume follow a similar pattern, highlighting the short path they took to fall into bed. 

She quickly pulls her underwear on, grabbing his thin white shirt from the floor and pulling it over her naked body, not wanting to wrestle herself back into her dress and risk the noise waking him up.

After collecting any remaining dignity she can find on her way to the door, she allows herself a moment to glance back at Lachlan, who is still sleeping peacefully, his body turned toward her, his hand stretched toward the side of the bed she had just vacated. 

The sight of him makes her breath catch the same way it did the night before. His light brown hair is tousled just so, his eyebrows are pulled together fractionally, his lips parted ever so slightly. The sheet is draped over his hips, leaving his strong arms and shoulders exposed. 

He is, without a doubt, the most attractive man she’s ever seen. 

Blushing furiously, she hurries out of the room before he can wake up and catch her starting. 

She pulls the door shut gently behind her, exhaling fully once in the hall. Ella peers both ways down the hallway before setting off toward her room, her pace just shy of a run, hoping to avoid seeing anyone on her way. Much to her relief, this wing of the palace is empty this early in the morning, and she makes it to her room without being spotted. 

Once safely inside, she throws the clothing in her arms onto the floor before flopping gracelessly onto her bed, covering her face with both hands. 

“Gods, what was I thinking?” She groans, fisting her hands in her mess of chestnut waves, her eyes fixed on the ceiling. 

If she was being honest with herself, she wasn’t sure she had been thinking much at all last night. She was usually cautious and careful, normally one to feel things out before rushing into anything, but from the moment their eyes met there was this… pull. A spark, an undeniable attraction. 

Until last night, she thought it was something that only happened in romance novels. 

But there she was, completely transfixed by a man she had just met, blushing like a teenager every time he looked at her, intentionally flirting back, melting into his touch, into his arms, into his kiss. 

And then there she was, falling shamelessly into bed with him, and shamefully sneaking out the next morning. 

Ella pulls her hands from her hair and sits upright, her cheeks burning. She jumps off the bed and stomps over to the vanity to start to wash the previous night off of her, to try to regain some semblance of composure. 

She leans on her hands, staring at her reflection in the mirror; her hair is more wild than usual, her lips slightly chapped, her cheeks flushed pink beneath her freckles. 

She was sure Lachlan would understand why she left him this morning. They both had quite a bit to drink at the party, they had just met, and it didn’t mean anything. And, to state the obvious once more, he was Leila’s brother, and she was her best friend. 

She quickly conjures water into the small bowl in front of her, making it as cold as she can stand and splashes it onto her face, praying the chill will quell the blush that seems to be permanently plastered across her cheekbones. 

She watches the water drip off her nose and chin and back into the bowl, trying to push the thoughts of Lachlan from her mind. Every time she finds her thoughts drifting back to him — to his eyes, to his hands, his arms, his chest, his lips, his fingers — she splashes herself with more water, which does nothing to cast him from her mind, only succeeding in leaving her shirt soaked. 

“Gods, pull yourself together,” she mumbles, reaching for a towel just as someone knocks lightly at her door. 

Embarrassed at the fact her first hope is that it’s Lachlan on the other side of the door, she sets the towel down and frantically searches the wardrobe for something to quickly slip on to cover up the fact she’s still practically naked. 

“One moment,” she calls as a second knock comes, slipping on a long robe as she hurries to pull open the door. “Oh, Leila.”

“Oh, Ella,” Leila teases, leaning against the doorframe, her gray eyes alight with mischief. “You seem disappointed. Were you expecting someone else?”

Ella clears her throat, wrapping her robe around her more tightly, leaving her arms crossed over her chest. “Did you need something?”

“Well, I didn’t get a chance to see you last night, but I figured if I found you here this morning, I would have to believe you made it to the masquerade.”

“The word of your fiancé wasn’t enough?”

Leila waves her off. “Not the point.”

Ella raises an eyebrow. “You’re very chipper for someone who isn’t a morning person”

“And you’re rather dour for someone who is.” Leila retorts, smirking. 

“I, um, I may be a touch hungover,” Ella offers quickly, tucking her hair back behind her ear. 

“I figured that may be the case. Luckily for you, I have something to help with that lined up at breakfast.”

“Breakfast? Right now?”

“Soon. Nadia has asked breakfast to be brought out to her private veranda, and requested we all join her there. I can wait and walk down with you if you’d like?”

Ella shakes her head. “No, I know the way. I need to freshen up a bit first.”

“Yes, attending breakfast at the palace wearing only a linen shirt wouldn’t quite fit the standards set forth by the countess,” Leila says, still smirking. She stands on her tiptoes, trying to peer over Ella’s frame and into the room behind her before dropping back onto the flats of her feet. She leans forward, dropping her voice to a whisper. “Is he still in there?” 

“Who?” Ella asks, glancing behind her, her brows pulled together in confusion.

“The man whose shirt you’re wearing.”

Ella blushes, pushing Leila out of the doorway and pulling the door closed. “I’ll see you down there,” she says, retreating back into the room, leaving Leila laughing in the hallway. 

She could only assume the breakfast invitation was extended to both the Lonan brothers as well, and the thought of seeing Lachlan again so soon sets her cheeks and ears burning. 

Ella sits back down at the vanity, quickly grabbing a brush to try to tame her hair. As she yanks the brush through the curls, she hears something metal hit the floor. Confused, she glances at the brush before turning to look at the floor, frowning at the gold and emerald hairpin lying beneath her. 

She combs her fingers through her hair, looking for the rest that she had started the night with, humming when she doesn’t find any more. Accepting they were probably lost while she danced or when she removed her mask, she finishes brushing her hair, making a mental note to apologize to the countess for losing them. Once her hair has been dealt with, she heads to the wardrobe to find something more suitable than just a shirt to wear to breakfast. 

Lips pursed and hands on her hips, she surveys the clothing hanging in the wardrobe. Like every piece of clothing ever gifted to her by the countess, all of the dresses are beautiful and expensive, flattering to her figure, but not exactly her style. 

She pulls at the skirt of one of the dresses, absentmindedly wondering if Lachlan would like the blue or the purple, or if he’d prefer the neckline of this one over that one. 

As she catches onto her train of thought she freezes, reminding herself again that he was drunk last night, and he could care less what she chose to wear in the light of day. 

Letting out a frustrated huff of air, she pulls one of the more simple dresses from the hanger, a deep maroon dress, adorned with small gold details around the neck, waist, and ends of the long sleeves. She slips quickly out of Lachlan’s shirt and into the dress, sighing again as she examines herself in the mirror. 

She tucks a strand of hair back behind her ears, frowning at her reflection. He had called her beautiful, more than once, and she was sure the volume of alcohol he had consumed made that seem like a fact to him. Either that or he was trying to charm her into bed. 

Either way, it worked, she thinks, groaning. 

But the way he looked at her… the way he touched her… that couldn’t have all been the alcohol's doing. 

And... she hoped it wasn’t. 

She exhales, fiddling with her ring. There was just something about him; his charisma, this magnetism, a genuineness that she found irresistible. She wanted to find any excuse she could to spend more time with him, to get to know more about him, everything about him. And she wanted him to know that she found him desirable in more ways than just sexually. 

Although the sex was… phenomenal. 

Blushing, she pinches the bridge of her nose and closes her eyes. 

All she can hope is that he feels the same. 

And that Leila won’t kill her. 

Taking a deep breath, she opens her eyes and gives herself one last once over in the mirror. She smooths the front of the dress as she stands up and exits her room, trying to suppress the nerves and excitement building in her stomach at the thought of seeing Lachlan again. 

[aquaticrunner]

Surprise

Lucy Pevensie x MaleReader

Request by @lucyanddylan10​ : An imagine where the reader can control water and breathe underwater. He takes Lucy for a swim where they have a lot of fun where they kiss and the reader proposes to her. Word count: 1.6K

A/N: I might have spent a little too much time developing the background but I hope you like it :)

-

Several months ago, Narnia had received a visitor: a young king from a neighboring realm, named Y/N. Queen Lucy was kind and welcoming when he arrived, offering friendship for the boy, who looked lonely and scared. At first, he had hesitated to accept her friendship, his father’s words echoing in his mind. Trust no one, he had said. Ironically enough, he had been sent to Narnia to build trust between the two kingdoms. However, his father did not want him letting go of their greatest secret. The boy had powers. It was a rare occurrence in their kingdom, but it did happen.

Because of that, the boy was scared to trust this girl with golden brown hair and freckles. Even though he did not tell her everything right away, he did accept her friendship. The two teenagers grew close quickly, spending any extra time they had staying up late to watch the stars and reading stories to each other. After a long day of royal duties, they would lay in front of the fireplace and talk about anything and everything. 

One particular day, Lucy said she had a secret to share with Y/N. She whispered to him about how sometimes she missed England. Even though her love for Narnia ran deep and she often couldn’t remember her birthplace very well. Every once in a while she would catch brief glimpses of her parents and forgotten classmates and feel a small seed of guilt for being so happy without them. Y/N listened and felt his own guilt for having his own secret he had yet to share with Lucy. At the end of the night, when he had finally gone to bed, he tossed and turned. Thoughts drifted through his mind of Lucy and the trust that she had in him until finally, he made the decision that he needed to tell her. It was a restless night and when he saw Lucy the next morning, he walked up to her before he could change his mind. 

“Excuse me, Queen Lucy, could I speak to you for a moment?” He asked, and she tilted her head, wondering why he was being so formal. 

“Of course, Y/N. What is it?” He led her to a small room off the main hall for a bit of privacy before sighing and steeling himself for what he needed to do.

“Last night, you shared a secret with me. I feel it is only right that I do the same.” He waited for her to motion to continue and took a deep breath, “I have… powers.” 

She smiled at him, slight confusion lacing her voice. “Powers?” She asked, implying that she was waiting for a bit more information.

He nodded. “Yes, it’s not exactly like what you have here in Narnia where the trees dance and music can enchant people. I can control water.”

Her smile faded, as she didn’t want him to think she wasn’t taking this seriously. “I see. Is something you would normally hide in your land?”

He nodded, and her eyes filled with understanding. “Well, fortunately, that is not something you need to hide here. Narnia will accept you just as you are.”

A smile broke out on his face, as words he never thought he would hear filled his senses. She accepted him. Lucy laced their fingers together, a small show of support.

He pursed his lips together, thinking. “Would you like to see?” He asked her.

Lucy almost burst with excitement as soon as Y/N asked the question. “I would love that!”

He smiled in response, and pulled her with him to a small lake on the castle grounds. Lucy and Y/N spent that afternoon not focusing on their responsibilities, but spending time together and getting to know each other even better.

More months had passed since that moment, and Y/N walked a little taller now. His time in Narnia had made him stronger and he had grown. Anyone could see that he was not the same scared boy he had been when he first arrived in Narnia. Even now, as he prepared for one of the most important moments in his life, he did not let his nerves get the best of him. Y/N and Lucy had grown even closer after he revealed his secret to her, and eventually that blossomed into romance. Now, he was preparing the most perfect day so that he could ask her the most important question he ever would.

The staff had been told in advance that no one was to burden Queen Lucy today and Susan, Edmund, and Peter had each shouldered a little extra responsibility so that Lucy could have the whole day to herself. 

Lucy was unaware of this as she walked around the castle, humming to herself along the way to the throne room. The guards opened the doors for her as she approached, and she entered expecting to see Susan listening to the requests of the people or Edmund and Peter talking battle strategies. However, the sight that greeted her was none of this. Instead, she saw Y/N walking toward her, a basket of peonies in hand. Lucy gasped as he approached. 

“These are for you, my love.” He handed the flowers to her and Lucy beamed, taking in the sweet smell. 

“I love them!” She stood up the tip of her toes, kissing Y/N’s cheek, before smelling the beautiful, pink flowers once more. “Thank you! What is the occasion?”

He smiled. “Well, I have a bit of a surprise planned.”

“A surprise?” Lucy giggled as Y/N took her hand and led her outside of the castle to the lake where he had first shown her his powers. 

Lucy gasped when she saw the surprise he had set up. Next to the lake, a small blanket was laid out with a picnic basket and more peonies around the blanket. There were also a few small candles next to the blanket, and Lucy smiled so wide she thought her face might start hurting, 

Y/N and Lucy took a seat on the blanket and he began to take out the foods in the basket. She licked her lips as he pulled out dozens of treats. The smell of lemon tarts, marshmallow cakes, homemade soups, and warm tea filled their senses and warmed the air around them while they ate and laughed. Lucy swore it was the best meal she had ever eaten, which filled a sense of pride and happiness in Y/N.

After they finished eating, they rested for a while until Y/N stood up and offered his hand to Lucy once more. “Can I show you something else?” He asked her. 

“There’s more?” She asked, sliding her hand into his, loving the warmth that radiated from him. 

Together, they walked towards the lake and Lucy began to grow a little nervous. “What is it that you want to show me?”

He smirked and gestured to the lake. “It’s under here.” He said, taking his shirt off and kicking off his shoes. 

Lucy bit her lip and looked away as he did this, as a proper lady should. “Under the water? I don’t believe I’m dressed for the occasion.” She said, trying to look anywhere else.

He laughed. “Just trust me.”

Lucy finally looked at him, letting her adventurous side get the best of her, and laughed with him. “Very well then.” She kicked off her shoes also and shed her cloak allowing Y/N to lead her into the water.

She tensed for a moment as she dipped her legs into the cold water, but kept going until her whole body was submerged. Her gown was soaking wet, her hair ruined but she didn’t care as Y/N splashed her and she splashed him back. He swam over to her, capturing her waist in his arms. Their faces were close and she could feel his breath on her nose as he said, “Come on.”

Lucy held her nose and shut her eyes as their heads slipped under the water until she heard Y/N’s voice again. “Open your eyes,” He said. She nervously did as he said and was surprised to see they were surrounded by beautiful plants and fish. She could see it all perfectly and it seemed as though some sort of bubble was around them, keeping the water out. She took a deep breath, shocked when no water filled her lungs. She had seen Y/N’s abilities before, but he had never shown her anything like this. “How are you doing this?” She asked, laughing with awe. 

“I’ve been practicing.” He whispered, even though there was no one else around to hear them. This was one of the most intimate moments they’d ever shared and their faces inched closer to each other until their lips met in a moment of absolute passion and love for each other. They pulled back after a while, in need of some air, which still seemed like an odd thing for Lucy to find underwater. Neither of them spoke as they looked into each other’s eyes. Y/N kissed her once more, before pulling back.

“Lucy Pevensie, Queen of Narnia,” He whispered. “Will you marry me?”

Lucy looked at him in shock for only a second before throwing her arms around Y/N. “Yes, yes!” They both laughed, kissing each other once more. They spent the rest of the night together, Y/N holding Lucy as they looked at the stars and fell asleep on the small picnic blanket, the most content either of them had ever been.

[appletart09-but-sanders-sides]

“I’m me”- Grand Guardians AU oneshot

CHARACTERS: Janus “Deceit” Sanders, Virgil “Anxiety” Sanders, Patton “Morality” Sanders

PAIRINGS: Past Moceit (Janus/Patton), Familial Anxeit (Janus/Virgil)

SETTING: Sanders Sides Grand Guardians AU (An AU in which all the sides are deities or “guardians” of the traits they represent)

WARNINGS: Angst, a mental breakdown of sorts, identity issues, abandonment 

WORD COUNT: 1349

NOTES: I don’t know exactly where this idea came from. I was working on Patton’s design a few days ago, and suddenly I had to write this scene. I hope you all enjoy it, despite the angst, haha

Have fuuuun <3

-------------------------------------

Janus practically stormed into his home, tearing off his cloak and hat, throwing them to the floor the second he was inside. Large wooden doors slammed behind him as he slithered deeper into the dark.

Why did he abandon us?

What do they have that Remus and I don’t?

What did I do wrong?

It had been the first time Janus had seen Virgil since Virgil had run away. And to be honest with himself, Janus had almost hoped that Virgil hadn’t left willingly. He wished that he could’ve saved Virgil from them, he wished that he could’ve brought Virgil home. Where they all belonged; Remus, Virgil, and himself. In this awful little dysfunctional family that was the “dark” guardians. 

Janus made his way through the winding labyrinth of his home, eventually getting to his study. Good. I should at least be able to get myself together here. He lied to himself. The guardian stood in the doorway of his study, flicking a switch by the door that lit the oil lamps around the room, bathing it in golden light. Janus took a deep breath, still standing in the doorway of the study. He could practically hear himself guiding Virgil through the same exercise.

Breathe in for four seconds.

Hold your breath for seven seconds.

Breathe out for eight seconds.

Good job Virgil, now just repeat that, just breathe.

Janus felt his heartbeat slow from the violent pounding it had been when he entered the house. He had at least calmed himself down a little bit. There was a reason he had taught the more anxious of his sons that breathing exercise; it worked. 

Now that he was more composed, Janus entered his study, pacing over to his desk and taking a seat. By habit he reached across the desk and picked up his journal from it’s spot sitting against the wall. Wait. Do I really want to write about today? Janus had been keeping journals for countless years; since long before the “split” that divided his family centuries ago. It had been a recommendation from Patton. 

Now now Dee, I know you really don’t like talking about your feelings, but you can’t just internalize them! That could hurt you!

…

Oh! I know! Why don’t you keep a journal? That way you could get your feelings out without having to talk about them when you don’t want to!

Janus caught himself smiling, lost in the memory of the conversation. Lost in the memory of Patton. Janus’s expression grew bitter. Virgil wasn’t the only person he’d seen today. He shoved his journal back to the spot it had left empty, standing up from his desk with a frustrated huff.

“Oh I just love thinking about all these depressing realities,” He hissed under his breath, unsure about who he was talking to. “Would it be so much to ask to not think for five minutes?”

Before Janus knew where he was going, he found himself standing in front of his bathroom sink, taking off his gloves. He turned on the water to as cold as it could get, splashing his face. He got water both on his shirt in his hair. But frankly, he couldn’t care less right now. He felt the cold water running down his skin and his scales, trying to jolt himself back to reality, trying to jolt himself back into the present. 

Huh, that’s odd. Janus swore that some of the water dripping down his cheeks wasn’t the cold water from his sink.

Am I… crying? He thought, running his hand over his scaled cheek, questioning the moisture he found there.

He finally looked up to inspect his reflection, wanting to put himself back together and forget that any of the last day had happened. But instead of his own face staring back at him through the mirror, there was Virgil’s.

Sloppy hair, bangs covering his exhausted eyes. Dark black circles underneath them. Virgil looked… 

tired? 

No.

Afraid?

No.

Sad?

That’s it. Janus thought. Why was Virgil sad? Wasn’t he happier now? Wasn’t he better off? Why was he looking at Janus like the snake was dying? He hated that look.

“I can’t look at you right now.” Virgil’s mouth moved in the reflection, Janus’s voice came out. There was a pause. A horribly silent pause where Virgil kept that same dejected look on his usually grumpy face. 

Then Janus felt his skin ripple, just like it always did when he shapeshifted. He kept his eyes locked on the mirror, on Virgil. Or, more accurately, on where Virgil was melting away into another figure. 

The face now looking back at Janus was soft, kind, freckled. Dusty brown curls framed the face, which had a pair of almost cartoonishly large glasses perched on its nose. 

“Is this who you wanted to see?” Patton asked, his musical voice just like Janus remembered it all those years ago.

“I think so,” It was Janus’s voice this time. Low and hissing when compared to Patton’s joyous tone.

“Oh Jan, I worry about you, you know that?” Patton’s voice said. “I’m not sure if your heart can snake much more of this” Janus let himself laugh at the horrible pun, but was surprised when he couldn’t tell who’s laughing he heard. But he did look up at his reflection and see Patton smiling at him. Janus could never forget that smile. It was radiant, like the sun itself. But the smile in the mirror wasn’t quite right. Patton’s head tilted slightly, his smile shifting.

That’s it. Janus thought.

Then he caught himself, seeing Patton’s face in the mirror fall into what looked like it could be panic.

“What am I doing?” This time it was clearly Janus’s voice that rang out in the room as Patton’s mouth moved. “I couldn’t tell you how many times I’ve cursed you. I couldn’t tell you how many days and years I’ve spent confused over what you did. What you did to our family, Patton,”

There was a pause, Patton didn’t respond.

“And yet, Virgil chooses you? Over me?” Janus’s voice hissed from Patton’s lips. “I raised him. I loved him. He was my son!” There were tears welling up in Patton’s eyes now. “You… you can’t just keep taking my family from me.”

With those words, Janus looked away from the mirror, unable to look Patton in the eyes anymore. His hands were locked tight holding onto the countertop, his head hanging from his shoulders. He could see droplets of water falling into the sink. Odd, I could’ve sworn I turned the water off.

“Janus,” Patton’s voice suddenly rang out. Calm and gentle, almost the loving voice that Janus remembered from centuries ago. “I’m not sure why Virgil left home. I’m not sure why he ran away from you and Remus. You were his family.” Janus looked back up as the reflection of Patton in the mirror. The face in the mirror took a deep breath.

“You can’t stay here Janus. It’ll break you. Jumble your mind until nothing’s left,” Patton said. Or, had that been Janus? He couldn’t tell. 

Whoever it had been, they were silent now.

Janus watched Patton carefully in the mirror. He watched as Patton’s entire form seemed to ripple and shift, contorting until there was a different person in the mirror.

Someone tall and thin, almost concerningly so. He was dressed well in black and yellow, but it seemed like the collar of his shirt and his hair had gotten a little wet. Janus inspected the face in front of him. It was angular, sharp, and unwelcoming. Nothing like Patton’s face. But perhaps the most striking feature on this face was on its left side. It was littered in green scales. Like a snake. Like a monster. Someone who would drive everyone he loved far away.

Janus snapped back into his own mind, realizing who the man in front of him was. Then, he spoke words that he had to repeat to keep himself sane more often than he’d like to admit.

“I’m me,”

“I’m me,”

“I’m me,”

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