#i got a taste of what my old life was here in greece:

[dreamy625]

One-shot - Barbie

Content: Casual drinking and smoking

Words: 2670

-----------------------------

Steve is considering a third drink and determinedly ignoring the clock over the bar as it ticks on from fashionably late to may-as-well-not-bother when he hears in a throaty drawl from behind him:

“Of all the gin joints in all the towns…”

His face breaks into a broad grin, “Barbie!”

“Don’t…” she kisses him on one cheek, “...call me Barbie...” and then the other, “Stevie.”

She hops up on the neighbouring bar stool and reaches for the pack of cigarettes in front of him.

“I knew it was you the second I saw your hair; still bulk-buying the peroxide I see!”

“Still putting your lipstick on with a trowel I see!” he counters, wiping his cheek with the back of his hand before waving to the bartender. “Gin and tonic, no ice, lime not lemon. And another one of these please.”

“So what brings you to my part of town? Do they not have pubs in Chelsea?”

“I’m supposed to be at a party. Industry bigwigs. Journalists. Mensch is making me go.”

“To prove you haven’t been kicked out of the band?”

“You’ve heard the rumours then?”

“Oh yes. But then I also heard you married a stripper and moved to Vegas, so…” she shrugs.

“That sounds more fun. Nah, it just goes on like it always does - do this, do that, don’t do that. The same old merry-go-round. Ages to go on the new record before we can get back out on the road again.” Their drinks arrive and he pushes a five-pound note across the bar. “And you’ve been conspicuous by your absence this past year, what have you been up to?”

“Oh you know, bit of writing, bit of design work. Plying my trade wherever they’ll have me.”

“How many countries this time?”

“Only three so far this year - Greece, Japan, and LA of course.”

“Ahh, jealous, I loved Japan. I’ve just gone back and forth to Dublin about four million times. Joe built his own studio,” he explains.

“Convenient.”

“For Joe it is. Phil’s in the US and Rick’s back in Holland, so the rest of us are clocking up a lot of airmiles.”

“You’ve not considered moving?”

“Nah, I’m settled where I am. Travelling’s good, but I want somewhere to come home to, somewhere that speaks proper English.” 

There’s something he’s carefully not saying and Barbara, of course, hears it loud and clear. “So where’s that American girlfriend of yours?”

“Which one?” asks Steve, lighting another cigarette and offering the packet to his companion. “Don’t matter anyway, answer’s the same - gone, got sick of me and buggered off to pastures new.”

“Oh sweetheart,” She pats his hand before reaching for the matches. “Always unlucky in love.” 

“Ain’t that the truth. Inexplicable really,” he looks down at the countertop before flicking his eyes up to hers, “when I have such good taste in women.”

Barbara laughs, not quite the reaction he’d been hoping for. “Very good Clarkie, have you been practising that?”

“Whaddya mean, works every time.” He turns his head to hide the blush threatening to colour his cheeks and motions to the barman for more drinks. Serves him right for assuming. Changing tack, he asks, “Are you here on your own?”

“Are you about to ask what a nice girl like me is doing in a place like this?”

“I know what you’re doing in here - chatting up strange men so you can pinch their cigarettes! I merely wished to enquire about your social arrangements.”

“Ah, very proper. I came in with some people from the magazine I’ve been writing for, but they’re going for a curry, so I guess I’m footloose and fancy free.”

“Good to know, thank you kindly.” He stubs out the cigarette, pondering his next move…

“Do you want to drink that?” She nods at the double brandy the bartender has just placed in front of him. “Or do you want to come home with me?”

“Can’t I do both?”

“From past experience, no,” smirks Barbara with a flick of her eyes down to his lap.

Steve blinks once before making the fastest decision of his life, pushing the glass back across the bar and dropping down from the bar stool almost in one movement.

A short walk brings them to a three-storey townhouse, not unlike his own, but this one, and the others in the terrace, has been split into flats and has the slightly dilapidated, uncared-for look common to buildings housing an ever-changing population of tenants. Barbara’s flat is on the third floor; high ceilings and fancy wallpaper, but just two rooms. Almost every time he saw her, she was living in a different short-term rental, squat, or half-empty house-sitting gig. The perpetual rolling stone, wherever she lay her hat was her home; although in Barbara’s case the ‘hat’ was three tea chests full of books and records, scarves and tapestries from far-flung places to cover every surface, and a stuffed parrot on a perch. Which meant that every place looked and smelt the same - like a poorly-kept antique store - and Steve would always feel himself being watched by a beady avian eye as he stumbled around in the middle of the night looking for yet another unfamiliar bathroom.

“So let me give you the tour.” Barbara takes three steps into the middle of the living room and does a slow twirl with her arms out. “This concludes our tour.”

“Nice. Frank’s looking well.” He waves to the parrot, so-named for its uncanny resemblance to Frank Zappa, receiving the usual glass-eyed stare in return. 

“So, d’you want a drink?” 

Steve shakes his head. 

“Or coffee?”

Another shake.

“Or…”

Steve smiles a lazy smile. “C’mere.”

Barbara tilts her chin up in mock defiance, but walks towards his open arms, peeling her coat off as she goes.

“I’ve missed you, Barbie.”

“Don’t call me…” The rest of the sentence dissolves into a muffled ‘mmph’ as Steve presses his lips to hers.

Her eager response is both exciting and warmly familiar - hers is a body he knows so well and returns to with delight - and as he works on ridding them both of extraneous clothing on the way to the bedroom, his only concern is picking the correct closed door and not ending up in a broom cupboard!

Later, satisfied and spent, with his girl curled up next to him and tracing drowsy circles on his chest, he lets his mind wander through memories of their long and convoluted relationship. 

Barbara had always roused a mixture of emotions. She was beautiful, charming, clever, and had a worldly sophistication that had been incredibly exotic to a boy who’d barely left Yorkshire. He’d been mesmerised by her from the first meeting, and the years of chance encounters and brief liaisons had done little to diminish her allure. On one hand, she was easy to be with, probably one of, no, the only, person he felt completely comfortable with. She didn’t expect anything of him, or want anything from him. Other than the obvious, which he gave gladly and enthusiastically. Even then, on the few occasions too much booze had made that impossible, she seemed equally happy to sort herself out (which in itself had been a notable lesson in his education in the ways of the modern woman). But on the other hand, why didn’t she want more? Why did she always slip from his grasp just when he’d started to believe that this was more than a dalliance? For Steve, who’d always fallen in love so easily and so completely, the only conclusion was that there was something wrong with him - why else would you so willingly let someone into your bed, but be so unwilling to let them into your heart? His only comfort was that she was, at least, consistent in her inconsistency; each time she would wriggle free but, eventually, there would be another postcard, another message on the answerphone. And each time there would be a tiny spark of hope; this time, maybe this time, she was tired of wandering… 

Steve woke to the sound of a lorry reversing, watery sunlight sneaking through the gap in the curtains, and absolutely no idea where he was. Then he registered the warmth of another body loosely spooned against his back and the familiar scent of Yves Saint Laurent Opium. Oh yeah. With a smile on his face he drifts back to sleep.

The second time he wakes is less peaceful - it sounds like someone in the street repeatedly throwing a tin bath down a flight of stairs.

Beside him, Barbara yawns and mutters, “Bin day.” And then, “What time is it?”

He gropes for his watch discarded on the bedside table and squints at the dial. “Just gone nine.”

She groans and rolls out of bed, lifting a silk dressing gown from its hook on the back of the door before vanishing through it. Steve hears the protesting grumble of an old cistern and then running water. Sliding reluctantly from under the warm heavy quilt, he picks up his shirt from the floor and, pulling it on, follows the sound to a tiny bathroom housed in what he can only assume was originally, before the advent of indoor plumbing, a cupboard. Manoeuvring past Barbara - standing at the sink squeezing toothpaste from a crumpled tube - he pisses in the practically antique toilet and pulls the chain. Putting an arm around either side of her, he rinses his hands under the running tap, giving an involuntary shudder at the icy temperature. He shakes off the water, ‘accidentally’ flicking a few drops at Barbara’s face, which makes her wrinkle up her nose, then wraps his arms around her. She squeaks as his cold hands make contact, but he just hugs tighter. Looking in the mirror above the basin, and trying to ignore whatever sticking-up tangle his hair has knitted itself into overnight, he studies their combined reflection.

When they first got together they’d seemed an ill-suited pairing - he, younger in both looks and life experience than his nineteen years, and she, at thirty, a woman in her prime living a life packed with travel and culture. To the casual observer they may have appeared more like teacher and student than lovers. But they shared the same slightly off-the-wall sense of humour, and the same hunger to see the world and devour all it had to offer, and they had been instantly compatible in the bedroom, so it had worked well enough in the short snatches of time they had together. Now, time and, let’s be honest, a less-than-healthy lifestyle, had turned Steve’s once boyish features into something still handsome but more weathered than one might expect at twenty-nine, while Barbara, aside from a few deepened lines around her eyes, had barely aged in the intervening ten years. Their faces in the mirror matched, they looked like a real couple. 

“Do you have to go to work?” When she shakes her head, the brush still in her mouth, he ducks his head and kisses her neck just beneath her ear. “Come back to bed then.”

Afterwards, propped up against crumpled pillows and sharing the last cigarette in the packet, Steve feels a rare sense of calm and contentment, clear-headed and with a pleasant ache in a few muscles he hadn’t given that kind of workout in a while.

“We could go out for breakfast? Or do anything really. What would you like to do?”

“What I’d like to do is lie on a chaise longue sipping a mimosa, but what I actually have to do is pack and fly to Buenos Aires at six o’clock.”

Steve’s face falls. “Buenos Aires? What for?”

“An editing job. One of those Rough Guide-type things.”

“When will you be back?”

“Oh, I don’t know. It’s a one-way ticket.” She glances around the once-grand but now rather tatty bedroom. “I’m subletting my sublet, so there’s nothing I need to come back for.”

“Nothing?” asks Steve, trying not to pout.

“Oh darling,” she reaches out a hand and presses her finger against the protruding lip, “don’t look at me like that. I’ll always be there for you, you know that. It’ll just be on the other end of a phone line for a while. Or you’re bound to be in Argentina sooner or later.”

Steve drops his head onto her shoulder. He knows how this will go, how it always goes, but he can’t stop himself. “But what if I want more than the occasional phone call?”

He feels more than hears her sigh. “You can’t always have what you want.”

“But why not?”

“Because you don’t just want more, you want everything - the wife waiting at home with your dinner on the table, the 2.4 apple-cheeked children, a lawn to mow on a Sunday morning. You want happy ever after. And that’s not what I want. I couldn’t do that if I tried.”

“But it must mean something, that we keep ending up together? Maybe you are meant to be my fairytale ending.”

“Sweetie, we shagged in a closet the night we met, that’s not a fairytale, that’s a Jackie Collins novel!”

“That was your idea! I was nineteen, I’d never met anyone like you, what was I going to do? Say no? I’d’ve bought you a candlelit dinner if you’d let me!”

“You would as well. You were such a sweet little thing.”

Steve attempts to refute this with a growling sneer, but Barbara just laughs and pats his leg. 

“Anyway, my big tough rockstar, unless you’re going to help me pack, I think it’s time for you to get going. There’s probably still a couple of teabags left. I will forgo my usual disdain of domesticity and make you a cup of tea while you get dressed?”

“Ohh-kaay,” he agrees reluctantly, shivering as she throws back the duvet.

In the kitchenette, she hands him a mug of dark brown liquid. “Sorry, the milk was making a determined effort to become cheese. But it is Yorkshire tea so…”

“Aye, that’ll do. Glad you got something from me at least.”

“Everything else cleared up with penicillin.”

“Cheeky!”

Barbara starts to load plates, washed and unwashed, into a cardboard box. “Pass me those spoons would you.” She drops them haphazardly on top of the crockery. “That girlfriend of yours, is it really over?”

“Yeah. She went off with someone else. Bit of a relief if I’m honest. Not my best decision ever.”

“Not her, the other one, the model.”

“Lorelei.” Steve leans back against the fridge and gazes at the flaking paint on the ceiling. “I royally fucked that one up. No way back there.” 

“That’s sad. She seemed nice.”

“She is nice. Too nice. She deserves better.”

Barbara moves to stand in front of him. There is love in her expression, but also something steely. 

She reaches up and strokes his cheek. “You’re too hard on yourself. Your perfect girl is out there somewhere, I know it.”

“In Argentina?” he asks plaintively.

She shakes her head, “Don’t.” She takes the mug from his hand, pours the dregs down the sink, and adds it to the box. 

Steve understands that he’s being dismissed and picks up his jacket from the back of the chair.

“Now, do you want custody of Frank? I’m not sure the new tenants will appreciate him.”

Steve eyes the slightly moth-eaten bird without enthusiasm. “No offence Frank, but you’re not much of a substitute.”

By the door, he bends to pull on his boots, then pats his pockets - keys, wallet, matches, must remember to get more ciggies on the way home. 

“Bye then. Have a good trip.”

“I’ll write. Promise.”

“You’d better.” He pulls her into a tight hug and drops a kiss on her forehead. “Look after yourself, okay.”

“Don’t worry, I always do.” 

She slides back the bolt and opens the door wide onto the shabby, faintly cabbagey-smelling, landing. Steve looks back as he reaches the stairs, but the door is already closed.

-----------------------------

I’m sorry, I had to break his heart just a tiny bit :/

For context, irl Barbara Salisbury was Steve’s on and off lover from the very early days (she was a publicist for their first record company) until, well, it’s not clear if they ever stopped seeing each other. She was described as very independent and free-spirited and I often wonder how our romantic traditionalist coped with that.

[linane-art]

Public Service Announcement

Yes, I'm back! Missed me? :D

I don't know where to start, really. My last year of travels was both an incredible, life-changing, empowering, unforgettable experience, and the hardest, most challenging thing I have ever done (and probably will ever do) in my life.

In the space of a year I have visited 11 countries: New Zealand, Fiji, Australia, New Caledonia, Japan, South Korea, Singapore, Malaysia, Indonesia, Poland and Greece. Everywhere I went, I have always tried not to be a tourist, but live like a local, stay with the local people and have as many experiences as I could possibly grab a hold of.

I close my eyes and I can re-trace the exact route from Cashmere to the city centre of Christchurch, or I can still taste the Kava drink, or I remember exactly where to put my feet on the ascent to Yunomine Onsen via the Kumano Kodo Pilgrim Trail, or I can tell what Sumatran elephant skin feels like under my fingers, or which of the rice fields around Ubud offer best views without too many tourists.

I got to do everything I ever wanted, fulfilled every dream I ever had and then some, met some amazing people that will stay with me for the rest of my life, and frequently did 8 absolutely impossible things before breakfast. I travelled on local busses, bought my veggies from local bazars, had local supermarket loyalty cards, dealt with visas, made friends with people who didn't speak a word of English... It kinda made me fearless and unstoppable. I've also struggled with depression, seriously questioned my life's choices, missed home insanely, been to paradise and hated it at times, doubted myself, and had a real reality check on what's important to me. And I regret none of it.

How do you pick up the pieces of your life after something like that?

The good news is that my love for this fandom has never left or diminished, and in fact it often provided to be a source of great comfort to me. I wrote stories in my head during my walks, I re-read some excellent old fics, I took Fili and Kili with me to some seriously remote places.

But I think the fandom has changed during my absence. And I have changed too. So as I sit down and re-think how I wanna indulge in my love of FiKi, here's what I've got:

I am seriously attached to three of my Verses (and have been focussing on them for a while), which I'd love to continue with: Silence, Isca and Postcards. There will be more posted, when I'm ready with it. Watch this space. Subscribe, maybe?

I have been writing mainly for myself for a number of years now and I can and I will continue to do so. But it's alwas a delight when someone else comes on a journey with you, so I'll continue posting publically.

GF is my Happy Place and I have missed it hugely, especailly as it hadn't continued to function as I hoped it would during my absence. I want to come back to tending that garden, as it's important to me. And I might take part in some events again, if the gods smile at me again, which will mean any and all verses will be considered.

I can't imagine in what possible universe I would have the time for drawing again. Having said that, I am sitting on some unpublished and unfinished artwork, some of it in collabs, and I know I can be stubborn enough to force their completion. Something to think about.

What else? I guess that's it. How have everyone been? What's new? WHO's new? Did I miss anything important? Come and say hi - I'm always happy to chatter.

[noodleblade]

Miscellaneous Tag Game (stolen title <3)

thank you bestie:3 @searchingfortheuniverse I'll be working on this while im on and off phone calls~

A band you don’t like that many others do: UM idk...my music taste is all over the place and I really only know the bands i think?? oh- maybe Mother Mother, only because I have not bothered to listen to their music past Junkrat hype videos and that's probably tainted my view a little. For better or for worse.

A childhood memory that you remember vividly: during a summer in greece, idk how, but I got roped into selling watermelons off the side of the road. I couldn't have been more than 6 or 7, but I remember I would put the watermelon in a plastic bag and the farmers thought it was really funny because that's such a...united states thing...to bag 1 whole watermelon in plastic. Anyways, they paid me in cucumber slices with salt.

Least favorite animal and why: HUH LEAST. I'm not a huge fan of like reptiles? Specifically those smaller than a bread box. Too fast, too squirm. Im worried I'll crush them in my hands. (im thinking of specifically florida geckos...idk they are cute but i freak out trying to hold them).

Hot fandom take: just because something is popular and fandom-wide accepted doesn't mean it is good. and not agreeing with it/wanting to engage in it doesn't mean you or your own opinions are bad. the monopoly on accepted 1 true canon is boring.

Do you wear any jewelry, if so, what’s your favorite piece: I try an rotate my jewelry around but I'm usually wearing a few rings, a necklace and a pair of earrings. My favorites are the rings. They are my mom's old ones and I typically wear the same two every day. One is a gold key of greece and the other is a thin black bar but the sides have really small thin heart cut outs.

A movie others liked but you didn’t: HMMMMM probably the new star wars trilogy. felt unnecessary and i just didn't like it? big shruggies

Three things you love about yourself: my writing- its something that I enjoy the most in the world and something that I can claim as mine. I also think I'm pretty funny in a sillay way which is poggers. I like my openness to trying things. Think that's helped make me more well-rounded. I hope so at least.

A place you hope to visit in the future and why: HMMMMM. I want to visit Japan again. For a new place, I want to go to South America. Peru maybe??? Mexico would also be nice. So that's what I'm gearing up towards next.

An actor that gets on your nerves and why: Uh Matt Smith? No reason behind this. but I see his block head and kind of just look away.

Things you’re excited for in the nearby future? I have a lot of little house projects I finally feel like tackling which is exciting. Ive lived in my house for almost 2.5 years and still havent felt like parts of it are complete yet.

Least favorite ship in a fandom you’re in: oof I lowkey kind of hate saying things I don't like on here. bad experiences in the past when people were upset I didn't like a thing they did and got mad at me. But uhhh not the biggest fan of most rodimus ships? but I think mega/rod is my least favorite of them. sorry!

What’s the most toxic fandom you’ve been in? hahaahahahhahahah can you believe Game of Thrones wasn't the most toxic???? it was jjba. I got put on a ban list which was kind of funny. I also got kind of show-ponyed in a toxic discord server for a while which has completely ruined me in the ability to act normal on discord outside of my irl friends. that account is deleted but the ao3 is still circling around.

List three things you find beautiful about life: Friends and family- sometimes I want to kill but I really do love them so so much. I like creating things and creating things with people. I also really like my area as far as nature goes. the beach to swamp ratio sings to me.

Any dreams for the future? I want to go on a really long hike. Maybe like a 2 day one? (< says the person that has gone on a max 2 hour hike before). Also just working on my original fiction again. I miss those fellas.

How are you really feeling today? Motivated!!!! Im a little groggy still, but I've been really excited about life and betterment lately so its overcoming my sleepy brain.

Tags: feel free to do or not: @honkytonka, @elmonstro, @huanted-dennys, @feral-birb-husband, @solarstormstuff @anyone else who wants to!! I'd be happy to read them:3

[eurotastic]

Eurovision reviews 2023- semi final 2

Here's some general information: I went to the London Eurovision preparty in April, and I had the best time, and for that reason, my opinions are partially based on the live performances that I saw there. As usual, I'm primarily basing my reviews on the song quality (do I want to listen to it outside of the competition?), and the preview videos for the staging - The full package that we're getting in the actual show. I'm also taking general fandom opinions into consideration with some of the songs, in case I think the fandom is overhyping or underrating an entry. I feel like I'm overexplaining the way I judge the songs, mostly it's just based on vibes, but the bottom line is that these are just my personal opinions and you're all free to send me anonymous hate mail if you disagree.

Denmark: Breaking My Heart - Reiley

When the EBU are deciding the running order for the semi finals, they're always giving the first spot to a strong, upbeat entry to make sure the audience gets hyped up. This is to prevent the viewers from getting bored and changing the channel when the show has barely even started. Out of all the songs available in the first half of this semi, Denmark seems like a decent pick to open the show. Not because it's good or anything, it's just slightly less awful than the rest of the songs we have to sit through.

4/10

Armenia: Future Lover - Brunette

The idea for this song is really good, I like that it's a slightly different take on a love song, and the instrumental production is fantastic. With that said, the lyrics are awkward as hell even though the basic idea was good, and the song feels disjointed and unfinished. She's singing that she's going to "be good, do good, look good", and she's only really succeding at looking good.

5/10

Romania: D.G.T. (Off and On) - Theodor Andrei

You know how everything you did at the age of 18 feels horrifically embarrassing in hindsight? Well, this kid gets to show all his incredible 18 year old ideas to the entire continent of Europe, in all his embarrassing 18 year old glory. He is talented, he is creative, and he has awful taste. It's the greatest unintentional comedy moment of the year for me.

1/10

Estonia: Bridges - Alika

Nice singing or whatever.

3/10

Belgium: Because of You - Gustaph

Is this the first time someone has walked that fucking duck on the Eurovision stage?

8/10

Cyprus: Break a Broken Heart - Andrew Lambrou

This is extremely boring but in a competent way. I don't like anything about it, but in this extremely shitty semi I'm at least willing to respect it just because there's nothing I dislike about it either.

5/10

Iceland: Power - Diljá

After I got home from London, I showed my sister a big slideshow of all the photos I took at the Eurovision preparty, and here's the thing: once I got to the photo of Diljá, I couldn't recognize her at all, despite watching her live just a few days earlier. I couldn't remember who she was, what country she was from or what her song sounded like. My mind was just blank, and I could not for the life of me remember who this person was. I had to google the full line up for the preparty just to figure out who she was. For the record, I didn't have any issues at all remembering any of the other singers.

She's just trying so hard on stage, running around all over the place, jumping up and down, shrieking her lungs out, to the point where it just gets exhausting to watch, and despite all of that, there's absolutely nothing to remember about it. It's a disaster.

2/10

Greece: What They Say - Victor Vernicos

I could listen to this song for 24 hours straight without remembering a single second of it afterwards.

2/10

Poland: Solo - Blanka

I think we're all familiar with the term "fanwank" - every year, there's a song that the fandom just loves even though it has very little appeal to the mainstream audience. The fanwank usually ends up getting eliminated in the semi, and the fandom acts all shocked even though anyone outside the fandom bubble could have seen it coming from a mile away. With Poland this year, we have the rare reverse fanwank- the fandom has convinced itself that this song is the worst thing to ever happen to Eurovision, even though it's just a decent, inoffensive pop song. It's fine, guys, this is literally fine.

6/10

Slovenia: Carpe Diem - Joker Out

I love how in this sounds like an early 2000s British indie rock song, in terms of instrumental production. Rock music in Eurovision usually sounds really overproduced to the point where the instruments are barely recognizable, but this one has fantastic guitar work that sounds like it's being played live. With that said, I hate that it's called "Carpe Diem", that's a really tired lyrical cliche that makes the whole song feel less interesting.

6/10

Georgia: Echo - Iru

This song is so meaningless that it's almost impressive - these lyrics don't have more content than a blank piece of paper. To make matters worse, she's doing this overly dramatic vocal performance without conveying any kind of recognizable human emotion besides "dramatic eurovision ballad", so I guess we'll never find out what they're going for here. I miss weird Georgia, can we have weird Georgia back next year?

2/10

San Marino: Like An Animal -Piqued Jacks

You know, when you're learning a new language, there's always that awkward stage where you're good enough at it that everyone understands what you're trying to say, but you're still bad enough that your wording gets unintentionally weird at times. At this stage, you might want to stay away from songwriting, or you'll end up with song lyrics like "I can smell you like an animal".

2/10

Austria: Who The Hell Is Edgar? -Teya & Salena

This song has both a fun gimmick and a serious message, so it's pretty much a perfect fan favorite. It's the only truly great song in this semi final. With that said, I need to nitpick the staging. It's too monochromatic and the dancers look too serious. They could have had way more fun with it, but it's whatever, I'm just being whiny.

8/10

Albania: Duje - Albina & Familja Kelmendi

I haven't had a single positive thing to say about this song until now, but comparing it to everything else in this garbage semi makes me appreciate it a little more. It's classic early 2000s Eurovision, it's dramatic and there's fire on stage. I guess this is fine.

4/10

Lithuania: Stay - Monika Linkytė

I keep seeing people in the fandom saying that all the moms in Europe will really like this one? Those people need to go apologize to their fucking moms immediately, because I don't understand why women would go for the most boring music possible just because they've had kids. What a fucking insult.

2/10

Australia: Promise - Voyager

The keytar is the only thing in this entire semi final that is making me feel real happiness.

8/10

[notdonebeingmessy]

⚠️ WARNING: THIS STORY IS CRINGE AS FUCK. READ THIS CRINGE AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION. ⚠️

This 30-something was just the absolute amalgamation of every woman's wants. This isn't hyperbole, either.

An absolute heartbreaker, like the leading man in a Nicholas Sparks book-turned-movie that would make every soccer mom pop another Prozac before she cried herself to sleep next to the underwhelming piece of flesh she settled for.

His looks I could describe as a mix between Gerard Butler and Shia Lebeouf. But the real striking feature was his eyes. They were like the crown jewels of his dulcid face: One eye like Baltic sea amber, and the other the bluest hue I have never seen anywhere else. Maybe it was the contrast between the brown iris and the blue that made the blue all the more striking but, my god, I hadn't seen colors that vivid since the dawn of the Windows XP default backgrounds.

I could feel how every girl in the room followed his movements as he introduced himself and explained how the rest of the semester would go. It was like our brainwaves were all in sync for this moment. I have no idea if there were even other men in the class, to be honest. He was the only one of his kind in existence for the next hour and a half. He went on about what to expect for this Interpretation of Drama course. I gathered that he wasn't only a Michelangelo fresco brought to life, he was also a down to earth film buff: We would be watching movies in class instead of reading old ass plays. As much as I do enjoy reading, his new spin on an old course felt exciting. "That's so cool!" I thought, in awe of his ingenious gesture to keep a new generation engaged with exciting titles like Pulp Fiction and Pan's Labyrinth. His taste was just immaculate!

As the semester progressed I was immersed in his anecdotes which served the purpose of illustrating a concept by comparing it to a real-world example. He told us about his quirky brother who had clocks set to different times so he never knew exactly what time it was. He palmed a desk and talked about the mystery of how sound waves dissipate and where they would go. The more I learned about who he was and how he thought, the more I was drawn in like the air he inhaled. This perfect being-- to be blessed with an inquisitive mind, and an equally impressive form. How did the stars align to make such a fine example of superior mind, body, and heart?

After class I made it a habit to stay and pick his brain, squeezing out every moment I could to prolong the warmth of his presence. The thrill his fascinating brain lent me was like being bathed in sunshine. It got to the point where our talks would take up enough time that he said he had to walk to his next classroom and invited me to continue talking while walking with him. I can only compare this exhilarating development to Jon Bon Jovi picking the skankiest, hairsprayiest, most leopard-printiest groupie gal to invite her backstage. Well, not quite the same implications there but ... "Close enough", I thought.

I became emboldened. I fantasized about what it would be like to discreetly carry on a romance skirting the line between taboo and acceptable. Holding hands only off campus but otherwise stealing glances here and there. "I'm 19", I thought, "surely it would be fine. Maybe it would raise a few eyebrows but there wouldn't be anything unethical about it. We're both just human beings. It shouldn't matter."

There was still a modicum of reality left in my skull, though. (I know, I was surprised too.) It didn't escape me that I didn't have much to offer. I rode 2 buses to my menial job and carpooled to university with 2 friends. What had I accomplished? Graduating high school?? Wow, right up there with nobel prize winners and his actual cousin who traveled to Italy and Greece to learn how to paint murals like the great Renaissance masters. Still, I'd feel better knowing I tried and was rebuffed than never taking the chance at all. "It isn't worth it to be saddled with the aching pain of 'what if'."

I waited until the final day of that semester and approached him in that familiar way I had become accustomed to. His kind smile made my heart beat almost as intensely as his perfectly imperfect mismatched gaze. We chatted a bit about God knows what before he said I could walk with him because he had someplace to be. I had rehearsed this part but all of a sudden, crossing that courtyard, I was falling to pieces on the inside. My years of presenting an ineffectual facade wasn't helping me in the act of spilling my guts here. Sure, I looked normal as ever from the outside but the search for words became impossible. "I was thinking ... I enjoy talking with you ... and how you think. And I wanted to say we're both humans. So, would you want to go out sometime?" He stopped walking and stiffly replied "I ... have someone." I noticed he suddenly looked very nervous. It dawned on me that I had just violated a taboo that has the power to end this man's career. I said "Oh okay." I'd like to say that I took that opportunity to remove myself like any other living human would have done at that point. But, no, dear reader. Instead I casually asked if he was married. To which he replied "Not exactly." "Ah, you're kinda doing the Bohemian thing. Okay." I said, as if it was some new lifestyle choice to shack up like we were in the midst of the Sexual Revolution. He dodged my glance and said "I've gotta go." I said "Okay. Could I give you a hug?" He paused. I said "A handshake?" "It would be too weird" he said. "Okay. Bye." I said while doing a small, shy wave. He returned my "Bye" and continued in the direction he was walking.

It would be months before I would see him again. It was in passing in an open campus courtyard. I realized he recognized me as we spotted each other from a few yards away. I waved and he smiled and waved back. Well, at least I gave him the most awkward memory he'll ever have. Ha ha!

Anyway, that was that. I probably should have tried the Sociology professor, to be honest. 😏

[snowingincamelot]

So I’m in Greece and I love it here and I don’t want to leave and I know I leave tomorrow and I wanna cry and crumble

[babblydrabbly]

The Audit || Rick Flag x Reader || Professor AU || Pt 3

FROM EDEN Masterlist || Main Masterlist

Smut - 3k words - warnings: language. dom!rick. pet names. kissing. oral (m receiving). facefucking. masturbation (f). implied captain boomerang x blackguard. Rick is about 45-50. Reader is around 30.

A/N: thank you to @loverhymeswith for beta reading ♡ sorry for all the different formats with these posts, im trying to see what works. anyway, enjoy some professor boomerang in this one too. Part 3/?

[Gif]

You visit Rick on campus and get a taste of his work life.

“Excuse me.” You approach the man in his mid-thirties, mistaking him for a student.

You navigated the campus well enough as you strolled toward your destination on foot. But at the top of the hour, just as you entered the Humanities building, you were swarmed with hundreds of students hurrying off to their next classes, turning you all around as you searched for the right room.

Digger Harkness glares up from his phone. He wears a thick wool coat and sweater, the collar of a dress shirt peeking up around his neck all askew. With a thermos tucked under his arm and his beanie pulled snuggly over a nest of golden curls, he gives you the impression of someone nursing a terrible hangover on his way to class himself.

Digger blinks, remembering where he is, it seems. Tucking the phone back into an inner pocket of his coat, he nods to you. “Yeah?”

“Am I on the right floor for Andru Hall?”

You refrain from mentioning Rick’s name. Still, the man appears to leer at you knowingly, his eyes flitting up and down your dress and peacoat.

“Ancient Greek, ay?” He smirks. Digger tosses his head in the direction behind you. “Flag’s on the right. If you really wanna get into Greece y’should come take my course. Hellenistic art ‘n sculpture next semester. 3020.”

Your mouth falls open a little. “You’re a professor?”

“Don’t sound so shocked, love.” He grins, already walking away. “3020! Take it!”

You dart your eyes around, hoping nobody else notices your exchange. As much as you’re delighted in surprising Rick today, you certainly didn’t want to get him in trouble. You shake your head before you overthink the strange man’s pointed look at you and turn in the direction of Rick’s lecture hall.

You wait until the last student exits the large hall before slipping your way inside. The carpeted floor creaks from old age and use, the sound swallowed up by the rows and rows of cushioned chairs separated by small writing desks. Your impressed whistle teases Rick’s attention up from the lectern. He blinks over at you from his notes, clearly surprised.

You smile at the professor coyly as you approach him, veering off to take a step onto the stairs leading up to the higher seats.

“Sheesh. How many seats does this place hold?” You wonder aloud.

Rick removes his reading glasses with an amused smile. “Around two hundred. But it drops to about a hundred and fifty by the time midterms roll around.”

“Oh?” You lace your fingers behind your back as you imagine Rick speaking to such a big room. “Scare them off?”

The man snorts softly. “Bore ‘em half to death’s more like it.”

“Well, Professor Flag… I’m quite interested in historical linguistics and I was wondering if I could audit your lecture today. I’ve got a lot to learn about romance languages. What do you think?”

Rick’s eyes flit over the dark green of your a-line dress and black stockings, his face never giving away even a glint of the dark look he so desires to shoot you with. He shuffles his papers around in a neat pile and nods up to the back of the hall.

“Better keep that coat on.” He warns. The playfully stern tone that floats over to you is nothing like the real one. That deep, sultry voice that sets your skin aflame and your knees weak. Here, your little exchange has your smile threatening to split into a grin. Rick arches his brows and glances at you from over the top of his glasses, also amused. “I don’t want any distractions from you, Darlin’.”

You shrug innocently, turning back up the steps as the first early students begin to roll in.

The lecture itself is quite compelling. Perhaps it’s your investment in the speaker, but Rick’s interest in his own subject is clear from your point of view. You’d already spent a few weeks getting to see him like this in the evenings- the way he murmurs to himself-  making note of things to add of later in his lecture slides as you lounge beside him in bed. How you’ve slipped some notes off his lap and flipped through them, committing his hurried scrawl in the margins to memory.

Halfway through his presentation Rick releases the class for a short break. You stay in your seat like most of the students do, though a few of them venture out to snack or use the restroom.

You take the opportunity to slip your arms from your coat and push the fabric back onto your seat. It doesn’t take long for Rick’s eyes to do a sweep of his hall and clock you minutely as he does so. You cross your legs beneath the tiny slate of wood that makes up your ‘desk’, and you know if you time it right, Rick can see the clip of your garter fastened to your stocking.

The professor’s double take is nearly imperceivable. But you chuckle mutely into your palm as he clears his throat from across the room. Shifting around, you seat yourself more modestly as everyone begins returning to their seats. It was far from your normal attire at the coffee shop, but you considered visiting Rick at his job for the first time a special occasion. It was only fair- how many mornings had Rick shed his coat and jacket in your shop, distracting you from your tasks with his broad, sculpted form and impeccable clothes?

You’re pulled from your musings when the young man in the row in front of you turns around. You pretend to scroll on your phone as he and the girl beside you chat about the class. Your ears perk up when the coursework talk eventually falls on Rick himself.

“I’m pretty sure I saw him out on the lake this weekend.” You stiffen.

“Our lake?”

The girl beside you and the girl beside her both lean in.

Their friend shakes his head. “No, it’s about an hour away. I swear to god, he was on the water with some woman.”

You’d never been sailing prior to Rick Flag. You frequented the lake nearer to the campus, as the girls assumed, often taking walks with your dog or reading on the shore. But Rick had proposed a spot with a little bit more privacy… —apparently not too much more privacy.

“Did you recognize her? Was she a teacher?” The girl asks.

You relax internally when the man shakes his head.

“Nah, they got too far away. I was busy looking at Professor Flag. Guy’s fucking shredded.”

A low chorus of giggles. You bite back a smile.

“And you won’t fucking believe this— Flag? Hot Mr. Rogers? Tattoos all up and down his arms. Sleeves.”

“Shut the fuck up. You’re lying.”

“Professor Sweater Vest?”

“Professor Daddy. I told you.” One of the girls nudges the other playfully with an elbow. “He’s sexy.”

You press your lips into your palm, smothering a giggle of your own as the three continue to gossip.

You couldn’t blame them. Rick never ceased to surprise you with every day you spent together. But the tattoos were one of the biggest surprises yet. It was only recently that the two of you could lay bare together— the first time you had pulled his sleeves down his tanned, muscular arms, you had whimpered, your breath shuddering at the sight.

Rick caught your stare with a sly smirk. He braced both elbows on the bed on either side of you, his mouth connecting with your neck to elicit more of your broken little sounds. Goosebumps flared across his skin as you mouthed at his inner bicep in return- tongue laving along the dark, inky lines stretching over every muscle.

You blink when the idle projector comes back to life. Rick returns to the lecture as you shift in your seat faintly, suddenly too hot for even your cardigan. You carefully unbutton the piece of clothing and fold it over the back of your chair with your coat.

Rick is in the middle of talking about the birth of all modern European alphabets when he notices you lean forward from the back of the room. You smile at him softly as he clears his throat. His hazel eyes flit away before they linger too long on the curve of your neck and the pendant you pinch between your fingers absently as you listen on.

+

Rick spins you around the moment you lock his office door. Your back presses to the wood as he cages your body in, tilting your chin up in his hand.

“Told you to leave that jacket on.” He warns against your lips. You nudge forward to close the gap between your mouths. Rick applies pressure to your throat gently to keep you in place. You simper, but smile wickedly up at him.

“I was getting warm.” You whisper. You press your thighs together like you did back in the lecture hall, your core already hot with want. Rick’s knee pushes between your legs. You curl your fingers around his lapels.

Rick’s lips drag down your jaw teasingly until they find your throat- feel your pulse hammer against your skin as he keeps you pinned.

“The way you expound on diachronic and synchronic syntax…” You bat your eyelashes.

Rick snorts against your neck. With a single heave, he scoops you up by the back of the thighs, drawing your legs around his waist. Rick walks you both over to his desk and falls into the leather chair, all while finally capturing your needy gasp with his lips.

You moan as his tongue slips inside your mouth, swallowing at it greedily. You admired the way he could stand there for three hours- shaping young minds- but you’ve had enough talk. This hour, you’d have the professor all to yourself.

You soon slip off his lap and run your hand down his front as you get on your knees between his. Rick’s head falls back against the chair, his fingers working his belt undone for you so you can spring his growing arousal free from his pressed slacks. The hot, velvety weight in your palm makes your mouth water.

Your eyes fall shut as you wrap your lips around the head of Rick’s cock. His taste is familiar on your tongue. Your cheeks hollow with a quiet hum when you feel those strong fingers slip into your hair and give you an encouraging tug. It’s a sharp, pleasurable feeling- one that travels down your spine and uncoils in your lower belly as you start to bob your head with enthusiasm.

Rick’s own pleasure is controlled today. You know you’re on the right track when his muted but resounding moan stays behind his clenched jaw. The sound makes your pussy clench with want.

You gasp as you pull your mouth off his length, sucking some air back into your burning lungs, and Rick tenderly brushes your hair back behind your ear. You smile, your grip replacing the wet warmth of your mouth to keep stroking his hard cock steadily.

“There’s a good girl.” He growls, voice thick. Despite the mild way he flicks his eyes down over you, there’s no mistaking the glint behind his black blown pupils.

You lean back down, your lips already parted and tongue pushed out to seek that taste you crave once more when a sudden, urgent knocking fills up the room. You startle there on your knees, eyes flying open. Normally, you’d marvel at the way he so calmly calls back to the stranger on the other side of the heavy door- but after hearing those rumors, you’re on edge now. Would this day turn out to be a terrible idea?

Your worry worsens when the voice in the hall doesn’t relent. Suddenly, their persistent, harried accent jostles your memory.

“I’m a little busy, Harkness.” Rick shoots back, a bit less patient now. He flashes an apologetic look down at you, his hand on your arm in a soothing manner.

“Fuck you you’re busy! I’m comin’ in!”

Panic cuts through you when Rick swears loudly, and you find yourself scooting beneath the large desk beside you, until Rick’s spread legs bracket you again, enclosing you in the small space.

Digger Harkness’s anxious steps across the carpet as you try your best to stay utterly still. He seems to start mid-conversation, picking up wherever he and Rick had last left off.

“Knew I shouldn’t have texted first. You said I had nothin’ to lose, Flag!”

“Where in the hell did you get that key, Harkness?” Rick interrupts irritably.

“Ah, right, Harls told me to give it back to you, mate.” You hear the light tinkle of a key being tossed onto the surface just above your head. “Fucker’s been sending me straight to voicemail all weekend, then I see ‘em in the quad just now and he just turns the hell around! What the fuck!”

“Listen- Harkness-”

After a few minutes, the tension in your limbs relaxes a bit- mostly to avoid the ache of crouching so uncomfortably as the art professor prattles on. Eventually, you dare to rest your cheek on Rick’s inner thigh as you wait in silence. And to his credit, Rick remains perfectly civil as he talks the man down from what seems to be a recurring episode.

You try to follow the conversation. Something about yet another staff member- A statistics professor? And a drunken night that seemed to go well enough. It certainly wasn’t your place, but it seemed to you that whoever this skittish Richard Hertz was, he had a bit of a ghosting streak. Your chest heaves with a silent sigh. You’re sympathetic- you really are- but you have other things on your mind.

You blink when Rick finally shifts in his chair minutely. Your breath must have stirred a reaction, because you witness Rick’s flagging erection twitch as he trails off mid sentence. The corner of your mouth ticks up and you repeat the soft action.

Rick’s knee jerks against the side of the desk with a notable bang. You freeze. Still, Harkness is unperturbed.

Carefully, you slide a hand up Rick’s slack-covered thigh until you’re inching near the man’s cock again.

“Look- George-  You’re better off ventin’ to Quinn on this one. I don’t know how much help I can be-” You grin, boldly wrapping your grasp around the base of his length. “I don’t even know the guy!” He bursts.

“Well thanks a lot, then, Flag! Christ. Department brothers, ay?”

You have no trouble working him to his full, thick self again as you toss propriety out the window and pump your grip up and down his long length. The tip of your tongue darts out, laving at the sensitive area on the underside of his swollen head.

Rick stutters uncharacteristically, “I… Y’know I’m a TA short this semester. These midterms are just-”

Harkness waves him off before he has to finish grinding out a labored excuse. “Yeah alright. Talk to ya at drinks Thursday night.”

“Lock it on your way out, Harkness.” Rick calls after his receding footsteps. The two of you wait a beat that feels like eternity.

A thrill runs through you when Rick doesn’t wheel away immediately after the room is plunged back into silence. You let out a soft, muffled yelp when his hand slip its way under the desk and wraps a portion of your hair around his knuckles deftly, the other hand pressing down the back of your head. Rick’s cock slides past your lips until your nose presses to the thatch of curls at the base. Tears prickle your eyes with a broken moan.

“Need my cock that much, huh, baby girl?”

You whimper again- an emphatic yes. Rick cants his hips, thrusting into your mouth with a deep groan. He fucks your face just like this, rough and quick, all while you stay wedged there between his muscular legs.

“Well go on now, you’re so eager. I know that needy little pussy’s aching for it.” He mocks. “Let’s see you come while you’re suckin’ me off so nice and pretty.”

You push your free hand down into the waistband of your lacy panties, whimpering again when your fingers make slick contact with your clit. And he’s right- of course he’s right- the ache between your legs sends you into a mess of high-pitched little sounds as Rick continues using your spit-covered mouth.

Your eyes roll up into your head when you come quickly, your hips jerking against your palm as you cry out. Rick muffles the debauched noise with an even rougher thrust of his cock, burying himself deep in the back of your throat as the sight of your blissful face sends him right over the edge- his cool demeanor from earlier coming apart at the seams with it.

Rick coaxes you of his softening length a short moment later and you take in a lungful of air gratefully. A careful thumb swipes at your shining bottom lip, collecting up the mess you’ve made of yourself with gentle care.

“Y’liked that, did you?” He muses, smirking down at you. Your cheek brushes his thigh as you rest your head on him once more. “I’ll have to thank Harkness somehow, then.”

“I can’t believe that man’s an instructor here. He seems so…”

“Manic?”

“Out of place.” You correct kindly.

“You’d be surprised.” Rick finally wheels his chair back, helping you up out of the small alcove. You slip onto his lap with ease as he places a hand over your tender knees, rubbing them fondly. “There’s plenty of crazy characters on this campus. And most of them always wind up buggin’ me.”

[achillieus]

let you down. (sebastian stan x reader)

summary: it's a universal truth but it's worth repeating; feelings eat us raw. or just an actor and a girl falling in and out of love over the course of three months.

(this was inspired by sebastian's visit to greece for his movie, monday, and is based on that, so that means in the story we’re in 2018. also i have this posted on ao3 too but while i’m writing the last parts i thought of posting it here too)

pairing: sebastian stan x reader

warnings: alcohol, sexual references, implied depression, sebastian desperately needs to hug the reader, it's kinda slowburn because i love the yearning

(pinterest inspired board)

part: 1/6

(other parts)  (masterlist)

The day it happened, it wasn't a significant meeting at all, you barely even talked. In fact, when he opened the door of your neighbor’s flat that day with a beer in his right hand and his hair messy, he didn't have any effect on you. You always knew that living next to a director meant that sooner or later you’d bump into the pretty faces of well-known people. Sure, you didn’t expect them to be Hollywood actors like him, but to say you were starstruck by the man, would be the overstatement of the year.

The building you’ve lived in for the last three years has five floors; you live in the 4th, he lives in the 5th. He’s a quiet person, usually spending his evenings out of his apartment. You’ve talked sometimes, about the weather and the weird lady that lives in the 1st floor. You’ve never told him you find his directing style a little pretentious.

You’ve never been to his place until that annoyingly warm August evening, when you find a white button up shirt on your balcony. You can clearly see more clothing when you look up and you’re certain the item you’re holding belongs to him.

He’s not there though. Instead you find a different face behind the door. Lighter eyes and darker hair. The man in front of you is definitely younger than the director. You don’t bother to notice what he’s wearing.

“Can I help you?” His voice is deeper than you expected. Stronger, with a touch of European accent. The sound of English surprises you at first but soon you realize he must be another foreign coworker that came to visit your neighbor

“No, I just think Argyris dropped this and it ended up on my floor.”

He looks at you and then at the shirt, in your hands.

Then he says “Sure, I’ll take it.”

“Okay.”

Then it ends. He doesn’t even ask your name. You don’t have to ask his. You figure out, as soon as you walk down the stairs, that it’s Sebastian Stan that you just talked to.

And while being a big fan of marvel movies, you think nothing special of him at first. You just wonder how a mostly unknown director from Greece got an actor like Sebastian to come here so they can work together. It makes no sense to you, but you forget it when your phone starts ringing.

/

It would’ve been easier if you never saw him again, yet you do. You see him trying to understand what the old lady from the first floor is trying to tell him. You already know. The elevator is not working. The next day you see him walking up the stairs.

You exchange a quick hello, how are you and then off you both go.

The same night Argyris invites you to have a drink with them in the terrace. Part of you wants to just stay in bed and binge watch some Sherlock episodes. Part of you already thinks of what to wear.

There are around ten people there when you show up. They’re all sitting down in huge pillows drinking and talking loudly. You don’t know most of them.

You sit next to a blonde girl, across from Sebastian. This time you notice he’s wearing a plain black shirt and holds a glass of whiskey.

You don’t share any direct conversations but you learn that he’s afraid of growing old and that he thinks Taxi Driver is one fucking masterpiece, as he says.

When you mention that you’re probably the least artistic person in the room right now, you hear him laugh.

A curly haired woman starts dancing with him at some point. You decide he’s not a good dancer.

He leaves the same time you do, following you down the stairs.

“I thought you live here.” You say when he doesn’t stop at the floor you expect him to.

“Ah no, I stay at a hotel near the centre.”

He keeps talking about his suite until you reach your door.

You part in a blur, with a short goodbye.

He still doesn’t ask for your name.

It makes you feel genuinely offended.

/

Two days after, he is the farthest thing from your mind, until you find him sitting in front of your door, his eyes roaming the place with despair. And then he sees you.

“Ah finally you are here.” He starts casually. “Thank god.”

You just nod.

“Argyris told me to wait for him with you. We had a meeting but he got stuck in traffic.”

You give him a look.

“He said you’re always at home so you won’t mind.”

Ouch. Yeah sure, your social life wasn’t something to brag about but for some reason the way Sebastian said it, it sounded like an insult.

“Okay, come in.” You shrug, clearly not feeling comfortable and turn around to unlock the door.

You hear him call your name. You thought he didn’t know.

“Yes?”

He offers you an easy smile.  “Thank you.”

/

Sitting in your couch he’s eyeing the entire room, while you put some groceries in the fridge.

“Argyris says you’re a great girl.” He clears his throat. “But he thinks you’re too quiet for your own good.”

You look at him, your eyes flicking up and down his face.

“And from what I can tell, he’s right.”  You hear him laugh.

It felt weird to see him laugh while he was leaning back at your cozy pillow. He had entered your life so suddenly you didn’t even have time to react to it.

“I’m sorry but I barely know you.” Your words are sharp. He sits up.

“Okay then let’s get to know each other, what’s your favorite Disney princess?”

Defeated, you laugh. “Are you kidding me?”

“No, this is an important question.”

You wait for him to crack up but then you remember he’s an actor.

“I don’t know.” You think for a second. “Mulan?”

“Oh my god. Mulan is amazing.” You smile at him. “My favorite is Jasmine, she’s just so badass.”

You share your favorites that day, having almost nothing in common rather than your everlast love for animated movies and buttered popcorn.

When it’s time for him to leave, he stops and looks at you in the eye.

“You should talk more often.”

You stare at him with confusion. “I talk,” you raise your eyebrows. “When I have something to say.”

“Good.” he says, still looking.

/

Later in the evening, you’re eating some yoghurt when he comes knocking on your door.

He’s different. The white tank top he was wearing this morning is replaced with a dark shirt and his face looks tired. You assume they’ve been working since he went upstairs.

“Hiii”, he says dragging the i, “Am I interrupting anything?”

You desperately want to nod. You want to tell him that you were doing the most exciting thing in the world, before he came but you were never a good liar.

So you just tilt your head and take a step back.

That’s when he enters and is met with some loud rock music blaring from your laptop.

“You like AC/DC?” he asks, almost wide-eyed.

“Well, I can tell it’s them when I hear their stuff.”  For the first time that day, he seems to be in loss of words. “Why are you so surprised?”

He sits in the same spot in the couch as earlier and laughs.

“I just didn’t take you for the kind of girl who likes this music.” It’s your turn to laugh.

“Why?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. Quiet girl who loves animated films and eats kids’ yoghurt” he looks at the carton in your kitchen table, “and also likes metal music? Doesn’t add up.”

“We’ve basically just met; you shouldn’t make assumptions about me.”

“Fair enough.” He sits back, fidgeting with his fingers.

You take some time just looking at him

There was a certain vibe about that man that made you wonder how it’d feel to cruise down a dessert highway in a convertible mustang with him. In the summer. With him wearing that white tank top.

The color of strawberries emerges at your cheeks just at the thought of it.

You wish he doesn’t notice.

You’re glad to find him looking the other way, before he speaks up.

“We’re going out tonight.” His voice is warm now. “Argyris says you should come along, even though I’m quite sure there’s no hardcore music where we’re going.” He laughs again.

I can’t. You almost say. But then anxiety slips away from you and out of sudden you want him to stop being so freaking arrogant, going around and acting like he knows exactly what kind of person you are.

He thinks you’ll say no. You can see it in his eyes.

“Sure, when should I be ready?” you say, surprising both of you.

He looks at you for some time and then trying to hide whatever he was thinking he says the first thing on his mind.

“How old are you?” He sounds pitiful. He knows. He wishes he could hit a wall; with his head.

“Twenty-one.” His eyes scan yours, unsure of what they’re looking for. “Why?”

“No reason.”

He inhales deep.

/

You try to blink. You’re at a party in a little bar you’ve never been before and a lot of people are wearing black. Alcohol. You can still taste it on the back of your tongue. You don’t remember how you end up pressed against a dark skinned man, but you can tell he smells of cigarettes and despair.

You sway your body to the beat, close your eyes. Breath in. And out. You think the music deafens you for a second but you open your lids and see Sebastian and he’s watching you, unashamed.

He’s not that far, though it feels like it with countless bodies in the way. The music melts. His gaze is almost angelic. Or devious. You can’t really tell.

He’s dancing with that curly haired woman again. You wonder how intimate their relationship is.

The red neon lights make his skin glisten. His muscles move divinely. It makes you think there’s an entire world inside him, his flesh barely keeping it hidden. Out of sudden you get the urge to walk towards him. You want to see him up close under this dim lighting. But you don’t move.

The man that’s groping your waist asks for your name. You tell him you need to flee. He doesn’t understand.

You sit outside with the sweet summer breeze touching your bare arms. The bass of the music in the background syncs with the beating of your heart. You can feel your ribs grow with every breath you take. Until you stop breathing because the door opens and his eyes suffocate you.

You can’t fathom the effect he has on you. He was a pretty face on screen some days ago. But right now he steals distance and stays near you.

You don’t look his way. He doesn’t say a word. Nicotine and smoke surround you as he exhales. His fingers hold the cigarette butt with care.

“Do you want some?”

You turn to look at him.

“I don’t smoke.” He laughs.

“That doesn’t mean you don’t want some.”

You want to know if his breath has the taste of sulfur. You want to pretend it’s the alcohol or the loud music that makes your head hurt.

“What’s the best part of being an actor?” The blue in his eyes glows.

There’s silence but he seems to be thinking about it.

“Do you ever feel things too much?” He says, his voice hoarse. “I mean, when you feel something so intensely it becomes a part of who you are.”

You nod. You understand.

“Acting allows you to let go of these feelings,” he starts. “You share the burden with the audience until it becomes light and you can hold it again.”

You look at him, shaking your head.

“I don’t think I could that,” you close your eyes. “I don’t think I could share what I feel so easily.”

He stands up. The wind hits you again.

“A lot people can’t. That’s why everyone is heartbroken,” he takes a breath, “Feelings eat us raw.”

You both go to bed alone that night. Tomorrow there is a hole next to you.

/

the morning after, search history

(02:45 PM) hangover recovery

(03:00 PM) best food after a hangover

(03:10 PM) sebastian stan

(03:30 PM) sebastian stan girlfriend

(06:00 PM) xanax side effects

/

You follow him on Instagram. He doesn’t follow you back. You remember he probably gets tons of followers every day and decide not to let it bother you. Instead you study for the exams of the following month.

The subject of your studies doesn’t interest you. Another poor decision you made under pressure. Sometimes you feel as if your life is borrowed from someone else. Sometimes you feel as if you haven’t found your home yet.

Feelings eat us raw.

His girlfriend looks beautiful in the pictures you find online. The media isn’t certain if they’re still together but you like to think so. It makes it easier to avoid him.

But the universe seems to be oblivious to your thoughts and you see him that same day. You’re taking the garbage out and he’s coming down from the top floor. You meet in the elevator.

“I’m glad to see you’re still alive,” his eyes are smiling as he talks “you looked kinda drunk last night.”

You fidget with the hem of the bag you’re holding.

“I wasn’t drunk.” You notice he’s growing some stubble. You’re not sure you like it.

“Whatever you say, doll.”  You bite your cheek trying to devour any sign that might give away how his words make you flinch.

He turns his body a little so now you’re facing each other. He’s so pretty. He’s so pretty in a way that doesn’t hurt. You try not to stare at him, but you fail sometimes. You’ve never noticed how slow the elevator moves until you want to get out. You can’t stand being so close to him for much longer.

He’s an arrogant rich actor who loves Disney and smokes a lot, you think. I have no reason to be affected by him.

“Ah! Argyris said we’re leaving for the weekend.” You eye him curiously. “He wants to show us some small villages in the south. He thinks we should get to know the country a little more before we start.”

You’re stunned by your neighbor’s dedication to his work. Sometimes you wish you had something you could be passionate about too. Sometimes you think you’re never going to find it.

“That’s great. I’m sure you’ll like it.” You give him a smile.

He leans his back at the wall. The elevator stops. Finally.

“I like your eyes.” You grab tight onto the bag. “But they don’t smile when you do.”

He opens the door and he’s gone.

They tell you that it’s fun to meet a famous person. They tell you, you can ask for a photo and a hug. They tell you celebrities don’t talk a lot but that doesn’t mean they’re rude.

But he’s not like that.

He’s fire. He’s burning heat and scorching flames. His words are his thoughts; raw. You don’t like it.

/

late night search history

(00:38 AM) blue valentine movie soundtrack

(01:15 AM) is sebastian stan a bad person

(01:30 AM) acting classes for amateurs

(01:50 AM) cheap leather boots

(02:10 AM) sebastian stan eyes

 You find it annoying; how he’s present even when you’re alone.

Thankfully he’s leaving for the weekend, you think.

/

The weekend, however, is two days away.

You think you can get away without seeing him. And you do. Until it’s late at night again. And they’re all upstairs with music so loud you’re certain the lady on the first floor is going to be rude about it in the morning.

The music tempo has you unaffected. All you think about is if he’s dancing with that woman again.

He’s such a bad dancer, he should not be dancing.

There’s a subtle knock on your door. You know it’s him. You hope you’re wrong.

“Do you feel like dancing?” His face is all flustered. It’s a good look on him.

“You can’t come knocking on my door at 2 AM and ask me to dance.” His gaze is filled with confusion.

“So you don’t feel like dancing?” You roll your eyes. He notices.

“That’s not the point Sebastian.” It’s the first time you call him by his name. You let it slip away slowly, testing the way it sounds coming out of your mouth.

He takes a step closer. You are suddenly aware of your pyjama shorts and your exposed skin.

“I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to irritate you.” His eyes are the cliché blue of the sky. “I just thought you might want to dance, that’s all.”

Suddenly you feel guilty and embarrassed. He’s oblivious to it.

For a moment you feel his eyes linger on you. It feels surreal.

You nod at him.

He’s ready to say something when Argyris comes down the stairs, his shirt slightly unbuttoned.

“Ah man, I thought you got lost or something.” You lower your eyes. “Stop messing with the poor girl. People are looking for you.”

He throws a smile at you and Sebastian takes a quick breath.

“People are always looking for me.”

He gives away that he’s carrying a burden. Your expression softens. But then you look at Argyris and you see he doesn’t really pay attention to these words.

You share a quick look before you’re there standing alone at your doorstep, trying to grasp the idea of him.

/

When you wake up you feel like running. You can’t fathom where the feeling comes from but it starts like a liquid running down your veins and soon you can’t stay in bed even for a second.

Feelings eat us raw. Only if you let them.

.

i really appreciate feedback, it motivates me tons and also tell me if you’d like to be tagged in this six part story :)

[mandoalorian]

I Believe In Love [Maxwell Lord x F!Reader] - Nine: Peace

Summary: When you find your calling to leave Themyscira, you venture out to the World of Man with intentions of helping and healing a very specific person’s relationship with his son. You’ve heard his voice before, but only in dreams. You’ve felt his pain and anguish and you’ve never been able to relate to anything more. But things don’t come easy for you, and they certainly don’t come easy for him either. [This series contains spoilers for WW84 and is my interpretation of what happens after the movie ends].

Warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, mention of child neglect and abuse

Word count: 3300>

Masterlist 

Previous - Chapter Nine - Next [coming soon!]

It was a long walk back to the holiday resort, just you and Maxwell. Your mind wandered off with worry about Diana. You knew she was strong enough to handle her own, but there was clearly something very personal between her and Barbara, and you knew better than anyone else how easy it was to let your feelings get in the way of your goals. You and Maxwell held hands the entire journey, although neither of you spoke that much. There was still a lot going on. Yes, you had destroyed the dreamstone, the God of Lies was no more, but you still had to fight for Alistair. You still had to win this custody battle. The war wasn’t over yet. Maxwell hadn’t stopped thinking about it either. Since arriving in Greece, you’d hardly spoken about the case and it left him wondering what exactly your plan was. He was resting his fate with his son on you. No lawyers… just an Amazonian goddess who swore her duty is to bring together families. He had no reason not to trust you, but this was a big deal so of course he was worried.

And of course there was one thought you both had in common. It wasn’t as much of a concern, but neither of you felt like you could bring it up yet. You had destroyed the dreamstone using the power of love. Your love. The love you had for each other. Maxwell didn’t know what it meant to love someone romantically until he met you. He thought he loved Julianna, but that was short lived. He always saw himself as someone undeserving of those feelings. But now he was certain. Maxwell Lord was completely and utterly in love with you.

By the time you’d reached the quaint little village you were staying in, your stomach rumbled. Maxwell paused and looked at you before bursting into laughter. You felt your cheeks heat up and you placed a hand over your stomach, slightly embarrassed.

“Hungry?” he laughed and you nodded sheepishly. “Why don’t we- uh- get dinner?” he suggested with a casual but nervous shrug of his shoulders.

You smiled. “Dinner sounds good.”

Maxwell nodded his head and led you down a cobblestone path. At the end of the long path, was the hotel resort, but along the way was plenty of quaint little shops, boutiques, and restaurants serving native cuisine. It must have been around nine at night, so the other shops were shut, but the restaurants were lit up beautifully with golden string lights, and on every street corner was musicians singing and playing instruments.

You were in awe. You broke free of Maxwell’s grip and wandered over to one man who was playing the violin. It was soft and romantic. You got close to him, probably too close, but Maxwell found it endearing. He loved to watch you take in all these new experiences. 

“You didn’t have music on Themyscira?” he asked, pressing a hand into the small of your back. His touch combined with the melody of the violin was enough to take your breath away.

“No,” you replied quietly as you let yourself fall deep into the song. When the man finished, Maxwell took out his wallet and made a generous donation. “You should be very proud of yourself. You have a gift.” you smiled- and the man blushed at your comment.

Maxwell was taken aback when you and the Greek street musician held a conversation in his native language. Of course - Amazon’s were multilingual. He remembered you mentioned it before. You knew every single language. But still, it never failed to impress him. Everything you did, every action and gesture you made had Maxwell fall head over heels for you.

You both carried on walking for just five more minutes, until Maxwell decided on a suitable restaurant. You’d settle for anything, but Maxwell had a specific taste. As it turned out, Maxwell Lord was even known in Greece, and the restaurant manager was able to pull a few strings to get you both a table without reservations.

“Do you know what you want?” Maxwell asked, peeking over the menu. You took a sip of water and shook your head ‘no’.

“How do I know what tastes good?” you asked.

“You can’t really go wrong with Greek food. In my experience it’s all good.” Maxwell explained, puting the menu flat on the table and waving over a waiter.

You pointed at a couple on a nearby table. “They’re sharing,” you acknowledged. “Why?”

You and Maxwell both watched the man and woman as they fed each other moussaka, laughing and smiling and planting intimate kisses on each other’s hands. “They’re a couple.” Maxwell hummed, wondering what it would be like to share food with you.

Too distracted in his own thoughts, Maxwell didn’t even realise you had already placed your order with the waiter. “We’ll have exactly what they’re having.” you beamed, pointing towards the couple.

Maxwell blinked and turned to you. 

“And drinks?” the waiter asked.

“Same as them!” you repeated and Maxwell’s head snapped towards the table. Actually, a pink berry iced cocktail didn’t sound at all that bad. It made a difference from his usual champagne or dry whiskey. Before Maxwell could even object, the waiter was already whisked away to bring your order to the kitchen.

“You’re getting really good at this world of man stuff.” Maxwell told you proudly, taking your hands and brushing his thumb over your knuckles.

“I feel like I’m settling in,” you admitted with a nervous smile. “I always felt like an outcast on Themyscira. Like I just… didn’t belong there. I was never a warrior like the other Amazons.” you explained and Maxwell nodded in understanding.

“It’s a shame you can’t stay here.” Maxwell swallowed and looked past you. His eyes fixated on another happy couple, and the truth finally began to settle in his stomach.

In just a few days, the love of his life was going to leave him, and he’d never see you again. Being with Maxwell in a Greek restaurant amongst the other happy couples left you feeling upset too. It made you wonder: did you really want to leave? Did you even have a choice?

Diana had told you that the world of man could not handle a goddess just walking around living a normal life. Your powerful aura would slowly cause destruction and chaos. Even death. You’d read plenty of romance novels to know that there would always be heartbreak. And maybe this would be yours.

“Your moussaka and cocktails.” The waiter grinned, presenting you both with the food on a silver antique platter. You both thanked the man and picked up your forks. In unison, you both dug into the meal and fed it to each other, just like you’d witnessed before. There ended up being a lot of laughter and hysterics as food missed your mouth or it dropped down Maxwell’s shirt making a mess.

You both knew that the inevitable was coming, but that didn’t mean you had to wish away your days together. You were fully prepared to make as many memories as possible with Maxwell and enjoy your night together in Athens.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Maxwell asked as you walked back to the hotel room.

“Worried about Diana.” you mumbled.

“Yeah uh- I’ve been thinking about Barbara,” Maxwell revealed, and you looked at him in confusion. You remembered the flirtations he made towards her in the cave, or rather, the manipulative techniques. “I owe her an apology. But I can’t apologise until she renounces her wish. I failed her.”

You gulped and squeezed the businessman’s hand. “Even if I’m not here, I believe that there will be a redemption. She will renounce her wish.”

“How do you know?” Maxwell quizzed you. “I just do,” you hummed. “She’s not a bad person. She’s just a person… who’s done bad things. But we’ve all done bad things before, haven’t we?”

Maxwell nodded before smiling. “I can’t imagine you doing anything bad.” he chuckled lightly.

“I try not to,” you shrugged. “But nobody is without flaw.”

Once you reached the hotel lobby, the receptionist called Maxwell over.

“Mr Lord, you have a phone call on line 3.” she said, pointing her finger towards the phone booth. Maxwell nodded before turning to you and pressing a chaste kiss on your cheek. 

“Let me take this call. Meet me in the hotel room.” he told you, passing you the key. You obliged, padding towards the elevator.

Maxwell walked over to the ringing telephone and took a deep breath. He wondered who could possibly be calling him from Athens?

“Hello?”

"Hi daddy. I miss you." Alistair's small and timid voice revealed. His little fingers curled around the telephone wire as he tried to keep his balance, standing on a stool so he could actually reach the telephone that was pinned to the dining room wall. Maxwell's face softened upon realising it was his son who had been trying to communicate with him.

"I miss you too, but I'll be home soon. Is everything okay?" he asked Alistair with genuine concern. He was at Theodore and Julianna’s house and they never let him contact Maxwell. It was forbidden.

"No. Mommy and Ted went out together and they've left me in the house alone. They've been gone for hours. Daddy I'm scared." Alistair sniffed, rubbing his tired, glazed eyes.

Maxwell immediately saw red. He knew Julianna was neglectful, if anything she had always been even more neglectful than Max. But the fact there was an ongoing custody battle and his competition had left their six year old boy home alone was infuriating.

“Where did they go?” Maxwell asked.

“Date night.” Alistair replied shakily.

“Listen buddy, I’m going to call Raquel and have her take you to Black Gold okay? Me and Y/N are heading to the airport now so we’ll see you as soon as we possibly can. I love you Ali. Stay strong for me. Can you do that? Can you stay strong for me?”

Alistair nodded weakly. “Why does everyone always leave me daddy?” Alistair croaked and Maxwell’s heart broke because he knew he was partially to blame for it too. He hadn’t been a perfect father but he sure as hell was trying to make amends now, which was more than what Julianna could say.

“Because they are not deserving of you Ali, you are too good for this world. I mean it. Go to your room okay, and Raquel won’t be long. I love you.” Maxwell promised.

“I love you daddy.” Alistair sniffed before putting the phone back on the hook.

***

Maxwell had been downstairs on the phone for quite a while. You had kicked off your shoes and discarded most of your outfit on the floor. You were lying on the king sized bed staring at the ceiling. All you could think about was Diana and Barbara. You had to make sure Diana was okay. She was your sister, after all.

The door swung open causing you to jump up in surprise, and Maxwell bolted into the room before doubling over trying to catch his breath. “Elevator was taking too long. I ran up the stairs. We have to go.” he panted, clutching his chest for dear life.

“Max? What’s wrong?” you asked, climbing off the bed and walking over to him. You placed both your hands on his shoulders and tried to calm him down.

“It was Alistair. He needs us.” Maxwell said, fear flicking in his eyes.

“Say no more,” you told him, finally feeling your duty as goddess of home and hearth kick in. A child in need of his father? This was your time to shine. “You pack our stuff. I’m going to try to call Diana and let her know that we’re leaving earlier than planned.”

Maxwell nodded as he started to gather together your things, throwing them haphazardly into the bags. To your surprise, Diana answered the phone after the first few rings.

“Di! Oh Gods, I was so worried about you.” You confessed, taking a big sigh of relief.

“You need not be worried,” Diana chastised you. “I’m okay. I had some trouble with Barbara but nothing I can’t handle.”

“Did she renounce her wish?” You asked.

“No,” Diana replied, her voice small. She was struggling to hold back tears. Barbara meant so much to Diana, she could not fail this one thing. She had to redeem her best friend. “But she will. I’ll make sure of it. Why did you call?”

“It’s Max’s son… something came up and… we’re flying back to D.C. tonight.” you told Diana, glancing briefly into the en-suite bathroom where Maxwell was collecting your toothbrushes and toiletries. 

“When’s the court case?” Diana questioned.

“Two days.” you informed her, feeling a little weak in the knees. It was so soon and you hadn’t even discussed a plan with Maxwell. 

“Remember sister, once this is all over you must return to Themyscira. Earlier, when the cave walls began to crumble… I realised that was because of you. You’ve already overstayed your welcome. I’m afraid the world of man’s destruction has already begun.” You had caused the cave walls to crumble? The ground to split? You were mortified. But if this was only the start… you weren’t prepared to know what was to come.

“I know.” you whispered sadly, feeling a tear slip down your cheek.

“I’ll see you back in D.C.,” Diana promised. “Good luck.”

And with that, there was a deadline. 

“Everything okay with Diana?” Maxwell called from the bathroom.

You choked out an involuntary sob just hearing Maxwell’s voice again. How would you ever be able to live knowing you could never hear another word he spoke? His voice was more beautiful than any violin or song on the car radio. You didn’t want to go. You didn’t want to go back to Themyscira. When you didn’t reply, he called your name.

“Yes, everything is fine!” you called back, doing your best to hold back your whimpers. Maxwell didn’t need to see you like this, it would only concern him. You wiped your tears away and began to pick up your previously discarded outfit, re-dressing yourself. 

Diana might have said goodbye to Steve, but there was no way you could say goodbye to Max.

***

The flight back to D.C. was uncomfortably long and you could cut the tension with a knife. “Max, he’ll be okay. He’s with Raquel.” you reminded him.

“He doesn’t deserve this,” Maxwell shook his head in dismay. “I can’t believe my son is having to put up with this bullshit.” he spat angrily.

You hadn’t seen this side to Maxwell before. Sure you’d seen him get mad and give you the silent treatment, but now he was being so vocal. He was vocal because he could be. He had been in Alistair’s shoes before. Neglectful parents who didn’t give a shit about him.

“My dad was never home,” Max swallowed, tears pricking his eyes. “And when he was, he was drunk. My mum was sick. She slept a lot. I didn’t have friends growing up. I was alone and bullied…” part of this you already knew from when the lasso of truth had shown you little Maxwell Lorenzano’s childhood, but still, you chose to keep quiet and listen to what you had to say. “I never planned on having kids but when Alistair was born I swore I would be a good father. I wouldn’t end up like my old man. But without even realising… I did. I neglected my son. I was always working. Too busy for him. I-” Maxwell held his face in his hands as shame consumed him.

“You are nothing like your father,” you promised Max, grabbing his wrists and pulling them away from his face. “Listen to me. Alistair loves you. And you love him. He called you because you’re his dad. His hero. You made mistakes in the past but we all do. Point is, you’re choosing to fix it. You’re choosing to change and that makes you one thousand times better than what your own dad ever was. Alistair sees the good in you,” you whispered. “And I do too.”

***

By the time you arrived back in D.C, it was nightfall. The sky was pitch black and Maxwell was readjusting his watch to fit the EST timezone. Upon your approach to Black Gold Cooperative, you noticed from looking in the windows that most of the lights had been turned out, bar the main lobby and Maxwell’s private office. Max was the first to enter, pushing through the revolving doors and bolting through the building, up the stairs and to his private office. You followed him, but let yourself drop behind just a little as you thought about the fact this might be your last time in this building. It was this exact lobby where you had met Maxwell Lord for the first time, sleeping on that sofa in your full Amazonian gear. It was only a week ago and yet it felt like a lifetime.

“Alistair! Alistair!” Maxwell called. He barged into his office only to see his son, curled up on his chair, asleep. Raquel was laying on the sofa, fast asleep also. It was late and Max didn’t blame her whatsoever. As long as Alistair was safe, that’s all that mattered. “Hey buddy, hey.” he cooed, picking his son up in his arms. Alistair stirred slightly and opened his eyes.

“Daddy?” he asked, his question followed by a yawn. He brought his fist up to his face and rubbed at his tired eyes. “You came back?”

“Of course I did,” Maxwell whispered, smoothing out Alistair’s black hair and pressing a kiss into his son’s forehead. “I’ll always come back for you Ali. I missed you.”

“I love you daddy.” Alistair sniffed, bringing his hand up to cup Maxwell’s face.

“I’m going to take you home, okay? Better sleeping in your own bed than in daddy’s office chair. Trust me, I know.” Maxwell said, remembering the ample amount of times he had fallen asleep at work, amidst an abundance of paperwork.

“Let me take Ali,” you whispered, nudging Maxwell and holding out your arms. “You should wake up Raquel and let her know you’re back.”

Maxwell nodded his head in agreement and handed you his son. Max was strong, but holding a six year old in his middle age did nothing for his bad back. When he passed you Alistair, part of him expected your shoulders to curl inwards or for you to struggle to lift him. Then he remembered you were an Amazon, and he smiled to himself upon seeing the way you cradled his son like he was as light as a feather. There was something so wonderful about seeing you hold Alistair like he was your own child. Ali looked at you with so much love. Just like his father, he’d only just met you, but he had put his whole trust in you - like his life depended on it.

“How was Greece?” Alistair asked you.

“Was good,” you smiled. “I brought you back a present.”

Alistair’s tired smile grew into an ecstatic grin. “A present?!”

“Yes,” you giggled, pinching his adorable little button nose. “But I’ll give you it tomorrow when you wake up. How does that sound?”

Alistair nodded his head and closed his eyes again, before nuzzling his head into your chest. “Thank you for being so kind to my daddy. He doesn’t realise it, but he’s been through a lot, and he deserves kindness.” Alistair hummed quietly, and you felt like your heart had melted right then and there. Before you could reply, Alistair had fallen back asleep in your arms.

It was that precise moment when you realised how important family was to you. It was that moment when you realised that maybe you wanted a family of your own.

Taglists - let me know if you wish to be added!

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[cassandra-moon]

Warm my Heart in Winter

A request from @shino-owo​. It’s finally finally finished and I still have so much to do. Forgive the lateness, thank you for being patience.

Seraphim stared out of the window and into the cold night of winter, a shiver traveled up his spine. He liked winter, it was time where he and his mother would play in the snow, he’d play with his bear brothers and sisters. With their lives gone so did all the good feelings during this time, he kind of wished it would go away, but that was impossible. He sighed as he rested his head against the cold glass window and tried not to cry. It wasn’t often that he did but when he did he tried to hide it. He felt it was a sign of weakness, vulnerability, and he vowed that he would never show it again until she came along.

Seraphim looked over towards the large bed on the other side of the room and smiled. There, slept his beautiful wife, wrapped in fine cloth and warm sheets, she looked even more beautiful with the light of the glowing fire. When he returned he swore that he would give his and daughter the world, and that’s what he did. With the help of his brother, Heron, he took back his kingdom from his filthy cousins and rose to power. When others opposed, he put them back in their place. Seraphim was not a ruthless king, in fact, he was much beloved and protected his citizens while also being strict, Adara said he was a firm, but a fair king.

Adara, along with her husband, was much beloved. The citizens loved her, many men foolishly tried courting her when she was in town, good thing the guards were nice enough to help her. The men lived, but they wish they died, they still do. Seraphim stood from his seat at the window and walked over to the bed, he smiled as his hands ran down the small scar on her cheek. She had that scar since he had met her when he was twelve and she was ten, it was fresh then, just like his, and still healing. When he inquired where she got the scar she told him her father had done it to her, he was training her to be the strongest warrior Greece had ever seen and the scare was from one of their duels, it was done on purpose. The mere memory of her retelling him that story had him seething.

Seraphim had been pulled from his thoughts when he felt his beloved shift under his touch, she hadn’t woken up yet but he could tell that even in her sleep she was searching for him. He smiled before leaning down to her and whispered, “I’m here, go back to sleep.” As if it were magic, Adara laid completely still and returned to her slumber and wrapped herself in the sheets. Seraphim chucked, he looked down at the glass of wine that he had forgotten was there and gulped what remained in the glass before walking out of the room to his daughter just across the hall. He carefully opened the door to see his three-year-old daughter sleeping in a bed that was much too big for her.

As I said, he wanted her daughter to have the world and would do anything for the girl. He stepped quietly into the room and towards her bed. Her jack black hair and tanned skin made him think of himself when he was younger and full of life. “Daddy?” That small voice pulled him from his thoughts as his little Ariana slowly sat up while rubbing her deep brown eyes. “Is it morning”, she asked, clearly still sleepy. “No princess, go back to sleep. I just came to check on you.” Ariana nodded before laying back down and falling fast asleep. Seraphim smiled before pressing a light kiss to her head. “I love you, daddy.” Seraphim stopped for a second, but smiled as he gently patted his daughter’s head, “I love you too.”

Once he entered his room again, his wife was awake and smiling at him. “I thought I told you to go to sleep”, he said as he put the glass down on the table and sat down on the huge animal skins on the floor by the fireplace. Behind him, Adara shifted off the bed and walked towards him. He turned around and stared up at her before patting the space next to him. “It’ll be over before you know it”, she said as she ran her hands over his shoulders and down his arms. She could feel him shudder under her touch, “You should rest, you’ll feel better in the morning.” Seraphim sighed as he leaned into her touch, whenever he felt this she was there to keep him from falling over the edge, she was always there.

“I truly do not deserve you”, he said as he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her into his lap. They stared at each other for a minute before Seraphim leaned in and captured her lips with his. Adara kissed back, wrapping her arms around his neck to pull his body closer to her. She felt the familiar feeling of Seraphims tongue poking at her lips asking for her to open so he could further explore her, once she did she could taste the wine he had been drinking earlier. She shuddered as Seraphim traced his clawed fingers up and down her waist until he moved his hand between her legs. Adara gasped, he rubbed his fingers across her velvety core, only a few seconds could he feel how wet and soaked she was.

Adara ground her lower body against his body, trying to get friction from him in any way. Seraphim dragged his tongue across her inner mouth and smiled into the kiss, before slipping his large fingers into her core, urging a shudder from her and for her to grab onto the animal skin wrapped around his waist. Seraphim pushed away from her, a string of saliva connecting them. Seraphim leaned forward, licking her ear, and whispered, “lay down.” Adara obeyed, her long hair laid out, a dark pillow that he loved to run his fingers through it. Seraphim, with his fingers still inside her, crawled up to her and kissed down her neck before gently grazing his fangs down her neck, over her chest, and down her stomach.

He looked up to his wife and frowned, Adara’s face showed clear discomfort. Seraphim shot up, his face covered with concern. “What’s wrong? Did I do something you didn’t like?” When Adara didn’t answer or look up at him, he started to panic, internally of course. Had he done something to upset her? Does he not satisfy her anymore? Does she not LOVE him anymore? “It’s nothing, really”, she said quietly, her mousy little voice cutting through his negative thoughts. “Something troubles you, and as your husband, it’s my job to understand whatever bothers you and destroy it”, he said, his voice echoing and his eyes narrowing to let her know of his seriousness, bit softened his gaze when he noticed tears forming in her hazel eyes.

Gently, he cupped her cheek and turned her head to face him, but she kept her eyes closed. “Look at me, please.” Adara, hesitantly looked into her husband’s dark brown eyes, they were soft, calm, and filled with care. She sighed, “I feel like since I had Ariana, I don’t look as beautiful as I used to.” Seraphim was shocked. The most beautiful, creative, talented, and caring woman he had ever met didn’t find herself beautiful. Before he could protest Adara dropped another bomb on him, “I feel like you could have done far better than me.” That was it. He wasn’t going to take any more of this. She hated it when he hated the way he looked, or when he told her the same thing she said to him just now, so he wasn’t going to allow the love of his life to suffer in self-loathing.

Remembering where his finger was, he decided to add another inside her, before pumping it inside her, shocking her and sending a rush of pleasure through her body. He gently gripped her jaw and forced her to look at him in his brown eyes, “You are the most gorgeous woman in his world”, he whispered in her ear as he moved his fingers faster inside her. “Despite my hatred for them, the gods have given me the greatest gift: you.” Seraphim bit down on her neck, gently, and groaned as her moans increased in volume. Usually, he’d tease her, draw out her orgasm a bit longer, but tonight was about her, and only her.

He slid his tongue down her collarbone, down her chest where he swirled her nipple between his teeth before traveling further down her body until he replaced his fingers with his tongue. Adara gasped, she felt herself clench as his tongue prodded her entrance and slid inside her. She felt her pussy clench as she released all over his mouth, her mouth open in a silent scream as a shockwave of pleasure rocked through her body. Seraphim rose from between her legs and smiled with his tongue licking his lips. He crawled back up to her and captured her lips, which she gladly accepted, not caring that she could taste herself on his tongue.

Seraphims hand traced down his own body as he sat up to take off his bottoms and release his massive cock from their confines. Adara was practically salivating, it was huge and thick, and her soaked core pulsed in need for it. Seraphim chuckled and slid her legs over his arms and positioned himself between them, but didn’t move. He looked up and locked eyes with his wife and said, “what are you?” Adara looked confused, what did he mean? Seraphim put the tip of his erect shaft against her pulsing core and pushed in, coaxing a groan from her, but stopped before going any further. “I asked you a question. If you answer correctly, I’ll reward you.” His fingers reaching down and twisting her clit between his fingers.

Adara shuddered, she gritted her teeth before locking eyes with her husband and saying, “I’m beautiful.” Seraphim smiled before pushing his cock completely inside her, he gasped at the warmth and tightness of her. “What else?” Her breath faltering and her body heating up, Adara muttered again. “I am beautiful. I am a gift given to you by the gods,” she screamed as Serahpis hips violently snapped forward, she reached forward and grabbed Seraphim by his braid and pulled him down to kiss him deeply. “Keep going, little one.” Adara continued to compliment herself, repeating it to her husband over and over again, her body twitching as her orgasm quickly approached. Seraphim stopped, grabbing her legs and raised them over his shoulder. The two locked eyes and kissed, he swallowed his lovers’ moans as he snapped his hips forward.

Seraphim wrapped his arms around her body, both of them covered in a thin layer of sweat that the fire illuminated, creating a glow that Seraphim found beautiful on his gorgeous wife. Her hazel eyes brimmed with tears as her orgasm shook through her, rocking her and sending her into a silent scream. Seraphim moaned quietly as he felt her walls clench his shaft, his pace quickened but became sloppy, signaling he was close to finishing. His grip on her thighs tightened as he felt himself release inside her, Adara’s body stiffened as another orgasm shook through her.

Seraphim collapsed onto his forearms, their shadows dancing on the walls, acopnied by the sound of the crackling fire and the deep breaths of the two lovers on the floor. Adara stared up at the ceiling and wrapped her arms around her husbands body. Seraphim turned his head and kissed the side of her head, “Don’t ever forget that, understand that?” She nodded and kissed the his scar then his lips. “I won’t so long as you don’t.” The two smiled before locking lips and embracing each other once again. Seraphim reached over and grabbed a log before throwing it into the fire and wrapping them both in one of their covers.

“Be a good girl and tell me one more time”, he began, gently rubbing her cheek. “What are you.” Adara scooted closer and smiled, “WE are beautiful. We are both gifts from the gods that managed to come together and create an even better treasure. There is no person better than the one in front of me.” Seraphim stared at her, his brown eye widened before smiling and kissing her forehead and saying, “except for the person in front of me.” The two smiled, sitting in silence before drifting off into peaceful slumber.

[jokertrap-ran]

(时空中的绘旅人—For All Time—) 司岚 SR 「欧洲纪行」 Clarence SR [Journey to Europe] Painting Story Translation: Of the Stonehenge and the Acropolis

*For All Time Master-list / Clarence’s Personal Master-list *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Card is from the [Ruins & Civilizations] series. *Yes, Clarence speaks really good English...

“Telling a story of a distant place.”

From England to Europe, he's just like a walking encyclopedia. But it's Clarence, so I suppose perfection is the norm; right?

Three weeks later, I got my Visa and started my journey to Ancient Civilization.

First, I'll fly to Europe.

The first stop will be the prehistoric site of the United Kingdom.

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Regret didn't truly strike until I reached Stonehenge, and it did. Hard.

Being part of a TV Program wasn’t any sort of holiday at all; the work schedule starts the very moment we take off, and there wasn’t much time to rest either.

Starting last afternoon, we'd taken a plane to the airport in London, Heathrow, flying through the large part of the night; and then followed up with a bus ride to Wiltshire before we could even regain our bearings.

I felt a little dizzy and faint just gazing upon this large pile of rocks under the scorching rays of the sun…

▷Choice: Jet-lag sucks…

Despite having fallen asleep on the plane here, the jet lag still made me rather uncomfortable…

▷Choice: Long-distance flights suck…

The air was too stagnant for my taste, given that it was a long-distance flight. Plus, the economy-class seats were way too narrow. Hence, I didn’t sleep well at night...

Thinking about it now, Emerald had truly taken care of me well during all of my previous trips abroad. He’d buy me a flight ticket under the business-class, and even reserve plenty of time before the actual trip itself, enough so that I could recover from the jet lag.

I read the lines of the script that was to be recorded for the TV filming in a dead tone.

MC: Stonehenge is a renowned prehistoric monument made of bluestones in Europe. It was built between 4000~2000 BC, spanning an area of around 11 square meters…

Thankfully, my main job was painting. If I had to memorize this entire script, I'm afraid I'd fall asleep way before any of these words stuck to my brain…

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With that in mind, I snuck a glance over at Clarence, who was preparing to be on camera.

I heard that he'd come to Europe once during high school as an exchange student, and that his English capabilities were exceptional.

Hence, that was why he was in charge of explaining the whole story of the Ancient European Civilization.

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He listened intently to the Director's instructions, smiling as he stepped before the lens.

Clarence held an information booklet as he started delving into the explanation in front of Stonehenge.

What happened was truly something out of the realms of my expectations. Clarence had started with a paragraph of English narration.

Clarence: What can it be？

Clarence: The place was all doors and pillars, some connected above by continuous architraves.

Clarence: It is Stonehenge! Older than the centuries; older than the d'Urbervilles.

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Clarence: In one of Britain's masterpieces, "Tess of the d'Urbervilles", this was the final destination of the runaway, Tess.

Clarence: The farmer girl Tess, who believed in god, laid to sleep peacefully atop the remains of the Altar built by the Druids.

Clarence: It is so solemn and lonely— after my great happiness with nothing but the sky above my face.

Clarence: It is at the very end of life, that all prayers, regrets, and pain comes to an end. Tess laid atop the Altar built by the Druids with only the sky above her head.

Clarence: That's right. This is the place where Tess had laid to sleep, entering a peaceful slumber. The people of ancient times had built their Altar here more than 2000 BC ago.

Clarence: As time passed, people started believing in the other gods and speaking other languages. Yet, the story of the vast sky that hung overhead and the towering rocks, are something that has been passed down from generation to generation...

Using "Tess of the d'Urbervilles" as an intro, Clarence delved into the main explanation of Stonehenge.

He subtly turned the topic back around, explaining the significance of Stonehenge in the histories of both architecture and astronomy alike.

He walked into the center of the stone monument as he spoke, explaining the principal axis of the pillars that made the Stonehenge. And about how the old path would fall in line with the morning sun of the summer solstice.

Meanwhile, the other two pillars paint in the direction of where the sun sets during the winter solstice.

Clarence's explanations were simple and easy to understand. It was intriguing enough that even I got enthralled by it despite how sleepy I initially felt.

Director: Amazing! Truly amazing! Your speech is way better than the script, Clarence!

Director: St. Shelter's University really did find a competent and suitable person for the job!

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I finally got the chance to talk to Clarence upon returning to the hotel in the afternoon.

He told me that he liked this whole plan about the Ancient Civilizations because he was once an exchange student here in Europe; hence, his familiarity with the European Ruins. He said that these ruins had managed to witness human civilization; and that this world only became much more interesting due to the footprints that humans leave behind.

——This view of his was similarly shared by Emerald himself.

Clarence: I was actually the one who suggested the next site to the Director and his team.

I glanced at the plane ticket.

MC: Athens, Greece…? Are we going to see the Acropolis?

▷Choice: Athens is where the European Civilization originated from!

MC: The European Civilization originated from Greek. And I heard that the Acropolis of Athens is a marvelous historical place to behold.

▷Choice: I once saw a show called “Saint X”...

MC: I once saw a show where all the Saints of X lived within a sanctuary, which happened to be the Acropolis.

MC: So, I think that the Acropolis should be a marvelous relic of history!

Clarence smiled wordlessly.

Clarence: You'll know once you get there.

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After a day’s rest, we flew off towards Athens, Greece.

We then took a ferry from Piraeus Port to Rhode Island.

MC: I can’t believe that the Acropolis isn’t the historical relic of Greece… Fine. I should have known. I mean, you were smiling! But you never did reply to me...

MC: Still, how strange. What other historical remains are there on Rhode Island that are more valuable than the Acropolis itself?

Clarence: The Acropolis is indeed the largest ruin in Greece. However, I personally doubt that the ruins of civilization need to be shown through such grandeur.

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I was absolutely dumbfounded when Clarence walked right back to Rhode Island’s Port.

There was nothing else here… Other than the ordinary port and Castle erected by the later generations.

Clarence took one glance at the script before turning back up to face the cameras while explaining.

Clarence: This is Rhode Island. Standing here now, I can only see the peaceful harbor and the buildings built by the later generations.

Clarence: In 282 BC, a bronze statue of Helios, the Greek God of the Sun, was erected here. However, the statue was destroyed by an earthquake a mere 56 years later.

Clarence: Though it lasted for only a short period, it was still long enough for it to be recognized by Antipater, a traveler of the old, as one of the “Seven Wonders of the World” 

Clarence explained about "Rhode Island's Sun God Statue". Based on his description, it was a colossal statue that towered at the height of 33 meters. It was made entirely out of bronze. The torch in its hand acted as a lighthouse, and its two feet, each on one end of the shore, served as the Port’s entryway.

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Based on Clarence’s descriptions of the place, I let my thoughts wander, bringing me to Ancient Europe. The grand statue seemingly reappeared before my eyes.

I raised my head to look at the statue. It stood between the blue sky and the sea, the torch in its hand blazing furiously, lighting the way for any passing ships and directing them towards the harbor...

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Clarence: After the fateful earthquake, the ruins of what remained of the God of the Sun laid there in silence for another thousand years.

Clarence: After that, Rhode Island was conquered by the Arabs, and the remains of the statue smuggled to Syria. The site of glory that was once behold became no more.

Clarence: Mankind creates miracles, yet destroys them all the same.

Clarence: We create prosperity alongside the development of Civilization, yet at the same time, we destroy what’s beautiful and well in light of our greed and desire.

I now know why he’d suggested Rhode Island instead for the filming location for the “European Civilization”.

The Acropolis was the origin of European Civilization.

However, the statue of the God of the Sun in Rhode Island tells us all, that no matter what Civilization it may be, it can all just be as easily erased by the hands of the very humans who built it.

[miss-kittys-magical-library]

You Are My Sunshine

From the MoonBrella Academy

Warnings: some angst and fluff A/N: Honey and Leon are left with the aftermath of Klaus's decision to tear apart another timeline by rescuing his infant self from the same childhood he endured at the hand's of The Monocle. Selina, though, couldn't be any more delighted.

Part 1 Sweet Child O Mine

Honey stood full of bewilderment in the middle of the living room. The flash of blue light temporarily blinded her making the 27 year old lose her bearings. She stumbled, caught herself and clutched the bundle to her chest out of instinct. It began to cry.

The young mother remembered herself then. In her daze, she had proffered a pinky finger to the infant. He accepted and sucked on it hungrily for only a few moments.

Honey knew in her very soul that the man from the portal, the man from outside the abortion clinic in 1968 and the man in the FBI posters from 1963 were one and the same. That he and this baby she cradled and Leon were identical but not. His name was Klaus. Nicklaus. Sunny. Their Sunny. He came from her. From Leon. WAS Leon. She saw that in his eyes. His cheeks. That all too brief gummy smile when Klaus had reluctantly handed the baby over.

Annoyed with only a finger to suck on, the baby started to wail. Not cry. A bone rattling scream that Honey never once heard from Selina. She stared at the little boy who had freed an arm to tug on his ear. He moved into a full-bodied tremble while his lip quivered.

“Shhh,” Honey cooed. She swayed back and forth to soothe the screaming child. “You know when Leon gets upset, his lip does that too?” She used her index finger to wiggle Sunny’s as a distraction.

He inhaled with a violent shudder. Wild green eyes locked with Honey’s before he cried at the top of his lungs once more. His eyes never leave hers except occasionally to gaze downwards over her chest. She knew Sunny was starving as the tears spilled down her own face. There weren't any bottles or formula or anything for him available. Selina never used one anyway. She went from the tit to the sippy cup.

Now he curled his little fingers around the muslin of Honey’s shirt. She cocked an eyebrow as he tugged trying to free her breast from its covering.

“Cheeky little pervert! You must be Leon?” she giggled and separated Sunny’s fingers from her shirt. The little boy screamed again this time louder. He yanked at her and wailed like a banshee. Honey covered her ear with one hand, “Jesus! You'll wake the dead!!”

Almost on cue, Sunny's tiny fist balled tight around Honey’s shirt began to glow. It shined a brilliant blue that matched the portal Klaus had stepped through. Because she wasn't offering her breast to him, the little one shoved his free hand into his mouth. It shone with the same light.

“What in Saint Jude?” Honey used her fingertip to spread his little fist open. She traced her nail along his now opened palm, fascinated. “This is beautiful..”

“Hey Gracie.”

There was a voice behind Honey. One she knew but hadn't heard. That thick Brooklyn accent. The scent of whiskey and cigarettes. The tears threatened to spill down her cheeks as she turned to look. To see her Uncle Lenny that she missed every day. That she longed to talk to about her life. But Sunny went back to his screaming, and Honey knew Lenny was gone.

“I CAN'T FEED YOU! I WASN'T PREGNANT WITH YOU SO I'M NOT EQUIPPED. PLEASE STOP CRYING! I'M SORRY HE TOOK YOU AWAY FROM A VERSION OF ME WHO COULD PROVIDE FOR YOU!”

Honey began to weep now. She felt helpless. Disconnected from the infant she rocked gently without thought. As if a tiny part of her brain that beat her down and told her she failed Selina. There was a reason the little girl preferred Leon to her. That Honey just wasn't good enough.

Now here she was unable to do the simplest thing, calm a crying infant. Her big fat tears poured onto Sunny’s face, and his crying ceased immediately. He blinked those indescribable eyes a few times before inhaling as deep as his little lungs could manage. She braced herself for another brain piercing howl. Instead he exhaled a coo wrapped up in a smile while staring directly in his new mother’s own eyes.

And there it started, a tether from Honey’s heart to the little boy’s. He tangled his fingers around her hair that brushed over his cheeks as she started to laugh. It trickled down to Sunny and through him. He responded with giggles that lit a fire in Honey’s chest. Quite literally.

Her breast and nipple felt like they were ablaze. She winced and gasped at the pain before taking one in her hand and held it tightly. The searing took her breath away before it spilled out on to her grip in the form of liquid. Honey's breast started leaking.

Without thought or hesitation she freed herself, finally, from her top. Sunny’s eyes became a bright green the moment he saw her offered breast and latched on. He sucked hungrily, little eyes rolling back in his head as he tightened his grip on Honey's hair. The baby opened and closed his fist as he ate. Honey hummed.

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are gray,” she sang and swayed as if she were dancing with the baby. “You'll never know, dear, how much I love you. Please don't take my sunshine away.” Honey bent to kiss Sunny’s forehead. He heaved one more great sigh and fell asleep.

The clock on their mantle struck 3pm, and Honey panicked. Selina’s dance class.

-------

Honey slipped past the other parents to the empty seat Leon had saved between himself and Tom and Ella. Her giant suede purse slung around her body more like a satchel. She sat down rather gingerly, greeted the Kidmans and let her long hair fall loose from under her beret. She smiled at her husband, all flushed cheeks and bright brown eyes.

From Leon’s angle as he kissed her hello it looked like a babydoll sticking out of her bag. Instead, to his shock, Honey carefully pulled a human baby from inside bundled up to its large eyes. Familiar ones that held Leon's gaze as she unzipped the little winter jacket that had been Selina’s.

Honey removed the tiny tossle cap. Underneath it was a baby boy (as beautiful as Selina) who released a satisfying coo. Then the little one turned to reach for Leon; to Honey’s dismay, he recoiled. She sniffed her displeasure while Sunny dove face first into her chest. Not for a breast, but simply a snuggle.

“The least you could do is hold him,” Honey’s tone was icy as she faced forward.

She caught her daughter’s eye from across the room and they waved at each other with enthusiasm. Selina pointed with sheer delight at the bundle in her mommy’s lap. Honey nodded and made the baby wave at his sister who bounced around in her tutu before the teacher took her hand and gently guided Selina back in line. Honey mouthed she was sorry.

"I'm just trying to figure out why my missus has got a baby that she wasn't pregnant with a few hours ago? Care to explain, love?”

Leon’s eyes were filled with worry as he looked at Honey. The tone of his voice was more tender than accusatory as he took one of her hands and squeezed it. Honey melted as she often did when it came to Leon's touch.

"A magical door opened up in our living room and that fake American cousin of yours, you know the one from the abortion,” she whispered this, “clinic?” Honey took a breath before continuing, “And I'm pretty sure he is our son from the future. He was in those FBI posters too. Back when we turned ourselves in. Anyways, he said his name was Klaus? Nicklaus. Nicklaus, Leon. He said well, this is ALSO our kid,” she presented the baby to Leon again, “from the future."

“I think you need to stop taking that blooming fertility concoction my mum and aunts made for you in Greece last summer. It's doing your head in because you sound like a bleeding nutter.”

"Leon, he’s our Sunny. Just like you predicted. You believed me then. I promise. Just hold him. Believe me again, please?” Honey pleaded with her husband.

“I quit drugs cold, and you've gone barmy. Then nicked some poor punter’s baby.” Anyone could tell Leon didn't even swallow one word spoken just now.

"First off, that concoction is cinnamon, honey, nettles and primrose oil. Nothing with drug properties. You're the one on maca, tribulus fruit and asparagus. Suck your own cock and see how it tastes." Honey stuck her chin out in defiance.

Tom choked on the cigar he was smoking. Meanwhile a knowing smile crossed Ella’s face. Her eyebrow raised in amusement at the direction this was headed. The Kostas couple were incredibly sexy when they argued. Honestly, they felt the same about each other.

"That's because you're not supposed to give me head, I'm supposed to put it in you. Remember that's how babies are made? Bloody hell.” Leon sighed and gave into his wife. He rolled his eyes and pursed his lips. Then he held out his arms, “Fine, just give him to me for cuddle”

Honey handed Sunny over to Leon who held him aloft. The baby had his fingers in his mouth. They glowed the softest hint of blue to the elder’s fascination. Then he let his little lips drop open to reveal mostly nothing but one lone tooth poking from the bottom gum. That tiny hand shot out to clench a fistful of Leon's goatee with an excited squeal.

Honey bit her bottom lip until she was certain it was going to bleed. A giant lump in her throat made it hard to swallow as she choked back tears willing Leon to get it. To see Nicklaus. Or Klaus. Or Sunny was theirs. She tightened her grip around forearm that she didn't realize had been in her grasp.

She wasn't a woman who prayed, not usually. To a Saint here and there, but quietly now she did. She wanted to convey to her husband that her body just couldn't get pregnant again naturally for whatever reason. Honey had started to bleed heavily before she left the apartment. Another miscarriage as the baby from the future sat wrapped up in Selina’s pink snowsuit. He was a gift just like Sugar no matter where he came from.

Leon studied this little boy. His nose, oddly curved like Leon's even though that was done much later in life. Those big, color changing eyes that moved in all shades of blues and greens in a matter of moments were also Leon's. It was like he held himself in his hands.

“Lovely little muppet.” Leon’s head swam. Sunny kicked his legs a bunch of times and contorted himself so he could suck on Leon's wrist. He let out a ragged breath just as the baby had done with Honey. “γεια, η μικρή μου ηλιοφάνεια,” Leon whispered. Hello my little sunshine.

There wasn't any part of Honey in Nicklaus, not the way there was in Selina. Her mummy’s attitude and defiance and brown eyes that took in the world and sought how to knock it down and start again. Leon shut down the part of his brain screaming REPLICA!

“That sadistic Monopoly man from the FBI or CIA did this, didn't he. Reginald Hargreeves.” Leon wasn't asking Honey, he was telling. He suddenly held Sunny close to his chest. His chin rested on the little boy’s head protectively. Leon kissed his curls as he had done a million times with Sugar and his wife.

She nodded because even her bones sang with revelation. They couldn't speak further because just then Selina burst into view along with the other little girls. She sprung into the air and onto Tom's lap, not her papa’s. He grunted then smiled in his Kidman way which was unnerving to the untrained eye. The little girl patted his cheek then kissed it. Ever one to tame the savage beast.

“Mommy baked me a baby!” she cried.

“She sure did, dollface.” He wouldn’t question a thing for the rest of his life.

Now she forsook Kidman to crawl across her mummy to gawk at the baby nestled into Leon's chest. “Hello, poppet. Papa calls me that.”

Sugar wedged her finger in Sunny's grip. They considered one another with fascination. Then Sunny screamed and giggled happily before putting her finger in his mouth.

Now Selina squealed with excitement and yanked it back. They played a game of offering and sucking for a few moments before the little girl declared that Sunny belonged to her. She stuck up her chin with a look of pride and contentment with herself. With the situation.

“He's my baby. Ok?” Neither Honey nor Leon would ever argue with that.

----

Winter of 1973

Honey sat cross-legged on the floor beside the Christmas tree. Her impossibly long hair hung over her shoulder and wrapped around Sunny who sat in her lap. He absently sucked on a thumb while his free hand flexed and twisted around his mother’s thick mane. Little hands flickered their occasional blue while Honey hummed a carol under her breath.

Leon was stationed in a large comfy chair, his one foot slung over the side. His foot wobbled anxiously. A handful of old journals and papers spread out over his lap. Books that had showed up one day without a messenger. Papers Tom had smuggled out of the CIA from insiders. All leading back to the nefarious billionaire with a monocle that studied the husband and wife and claimed if they paid him in return, they would get off scot free. Even keep the cash.

Selina danced around the tree. The lights reflected off of the dress Honey had fashioned, at Leon's insistance, from the gift she made just six years ago. It matched the tiny vest Sunny now wore as he bounced and wiggled rhythmically so desperate to dance with Sugar.

“Mummy?” Selina spun in a circle and tossed garland at the tree haphazardly.

“Yes?”

“Sunny’s coming.”

“What? Coming where? He can toddle about like a drunken sailor.”

“Mummy! Not my baby brother. Big Sunny. He's coming for a visit. He looks so much like Papa, but sad.”

Honey and Leon exchanged frantic glances. The traveler, from the future. But how did Selina know? Her papa asked as much.

“Silly! Sometimes he sees us through the windows. He likes to watch you be Mummy and Papa to Sunny. That you are good to him. I saw him and he talked to me. He very much likes Mummy in a.. Daddy way? But also in a me and Sunny way. I told him be here for Christmas. Is he my Theíos? His name is Mouse. Mummy is that..”

“Topolino. His name is Klaus. Nicklaus like Sunny and Pappou. You are too little to understand, Sugar.”

Honey scooped her up too and cradled both of her children in her lap, kissing their foreheads. She looked at Leon who knitv his eyebrows in thought. Mouth agape with just the slight bit of perturbed on his lips. But a shock of wind and blue and magnetism outside the windows on the fire escape startled the Kostas parents into attention.

“HE'S HERE! TOPO IS HERE!” Selina bolted to the window which Klaus tentatively tapped on. Without permission from her parents, she let him in. She held his hand tight and dragged him to the center of the living room.

Klaus stood uncomfortably in front of Leon and Honey. His hair was as long as Honey’s and his beard to boot. He wore giant rose tinted sunglasses and a starfish necklace dangled against his bare chest. His clothes were blue and white, pants striped with it, and very.. ritualistic. Religious almost. Honey told herself he looked like Jesus had fucked George Harrison in Elton John’s closet.

“Happy Christmas?!” He held up a bottle of wine. “I came bearing a gift!”

“Ain't you a little early in The Savior’s journey to be looking like that?” Leon quipped.

“What? Oh this? I had to.. disperse an alternative lifestyle community.”

“A cult?” Honey questioned.

“A commune,” Klaus and Leon said simultaneously.

Honey shivered. “Either way,” she crossed her arms, “we've been expecting you. For two years.”

Tag: @neuroticpuppy @magic-multicolored-miracle @bisexualnathanyoung @forenschik @nightmonsters @vonkimmeren @maerenee930 @elliethesuperfruitlover @070188 @firstpersonnarrator @rob-private @messengeronthemoon @emelieislasheehan @super-unpredictable98 @frogs--are--bitches @duck-noises @the-freckled-luba @a-ghoulish-tale

[breitzbachbea]

Day 1: Language [GreSic]

Here is my first entry for @aphrarepairweek2021! No intimacy like finding traces of a shared past on your tongue.

Ship: Greece/Sicily [OC] (Herakles Karpuzi/Michele Vento) Set in an Human/Organized Crime AU Read it here on ao3

All Sicilian & Greek words are translated at the bottom - I marked the words in red, so that you can easily find where you left off if you jump to the translations!

Much thanks to @amber-isnt-a-precious-stone for betareading this Oneshot & to @crispyliza for helping me with the Greek transcription. Love you guys <3

Since I don't describe Michele in the oneshot itself, here's also a Teenage GreSic kiss, drawn by my friend @/C0FFINATED from twitter! (They're 16 & 15 here; in the Oneshot, they're somewhere between 18 and 20)

In Una Lingua Familiare

They sat in Herakles’ old and battered kitchen. It must have been the height of Greek Luxury back in the 50s, when it had been renovated. Now it felt cosy, with all its chipped tiles and worn handles.

Something flew past the window and they both turned their heads.

It flew past the window again.

“Taddarita,” Michele told Herakles with a content smile.

Herakles smiled back. “Nychterida.”

“Oh, I think that’s the same word,” Michele said and lifted the small coffee cup to his lips.

“It’s not,” Herakles said. “After you butchered it.”

Michele chuckled about it. He still hadn’t taken a sip. Herakles had made them Greek coffee and Michele was careful with it. He dreaded the thought of reaching the bottom and ending up with a mouthful of coffee grounds. “We didn’t butcher them, we’ve made them our own. But we’ve kept them, regardless.” He finally drank some before he glanced back to Herakles with eyes half lidded. “Carusu,” he said.

“Agori”, Herakles replied.

They had drifted off and talked about history and linguistics again. A safe topic. No business. No nightmares. Michele had tried his best to get rid of the bags under his eyes before he came to Greece but he had no idea if he succeeded. Herakles hadn’t said a word about it and he was grateful for it.

He just wanted to go back to the days when he learnt Ancient Greek at the liceo classico and Herakles did the same at his lykio. When they had found another shared passion to fill the time of the rare afternoons spent together in Palermo or Athens.

“Modern Greek is still Greek” Herakles said. “The words we kept, we didn’t change.”

“Even if we changed them to suit our tongues, we haven’t replaced them,” Michele answered. “After the Phoenicians and the Romans came. And the Arabs and the Germans, the French and the Spaniards. None of them could take the words from us.” His voice was low and he wondered if it even left his mouth or just stuck as vibrations to his lips.

Herakles gave away nothing as he looked into Michele’s eyes. His form was mostly in the shadows, with only the dim light of the moon, the city and a dingy lamp in the corner of the room.

Almost nothing. His tongue darted out and licked delicately over his upper lip.

Michele watched him intently. “Liccu,” he said.

“Lihoudis,” Herakles replied.

They said nothing for a while, broke eye contact and Herakles took a sip of his coffee.

“There’s an Italian version of Herakles, too,” Michele said and Herakles lazily raised an eyebrow. “I could call you Erculi.” His accent was heavy when the name rolled off his tongue.

Herakles' thumb rubbed over the edge of his cup. His lips were slightly parted and Michele didn’t miss the attentive spark in his eyes.

He tried to distract himself by taking another sip of coffee.

“Mihalis,” Herakles said and Michele swallowed coffee grounds and sugar.

His hairs stood on end. He wanted to take Herakles’ hand and call him Erculi and babble sweet nothings in Sicilian at him. He wanted to be reminded of the touches they had shared when they had been kids, behind the safety of a schoolbook and the wild growth of a garden or sometimes tucked away in the corner of a dock wall.

Now they weren’t kids anymore, however, freed from their parents' watchful eye. He could do all that.

Herakles chuckled and despite the hour, it was a joyful little sound. Michele had put the coffee cup down and thought to get a glass of water to wash the coffee out of his mouth. He didn’t dare look at Herakles.

“You know who also changed my name?” Herakles asked and Michele glanced at him.

“Who?” The grounds stuck to his tongue and the walls of his mouth, but he wouldn’t say anything. Not unless Herakles said something first.

“Natasa. She calls me Iraklis, because she thinks Herakles is pretty pretentious in this day and age.” He chuckled again, his eyes on the table instead of Michele, and a faint smile on his face. “Maybe that’s also the reason why we Greeks changed all the words you Sicilians kept.”

Michele chuckled to himself. He got up to fetch a glass of water.

“She's been a big help in navigating this Shark Tank. Calls me Ira for short,” Herakles said and Michele nearly choked on the water. One last chuckle left Herakles, more of an amused sigh.

“Oh,” Michele said, as steady as his voice could manage.

“Interesting.”

Herakles looked at him from the corner of his eyes. “Yeah?”

In Italian, Ira means wrath.

They weren’t kids anymore, Michele thought. He wanted to sleep.

So he put his glass of water down, walked over to Herakles and peered inside his coffee cup. Empty, but so carefully drunk that he didn’t inhale the grounds.

“Iri means to go in Sicilian,” Michele said. Herakles had turned towards him. “I think I want to go to bed.”

Up close, he saw the dark circles underneath Herakles’ eyes. There was a cut on his thumb that hadn’t yet fully healed. Scratch marks peaked out underneath his hair and shirt.

And Michele didn’t care one bit for any of it, because it didn’t change that Herakles was so beautiful it knocked the breath out of Michele’s lungs.

Herakles scooted back with his chair, a dull sound on the old tiles, and welcomed Michele onto his lap. His hands steadied him as he sat down and one found its way into Michele’s hair as he kissed him. He liked the warm and heavy weight against his head and his own thumb brushed over Herakles’ cheek. Herakles’ lips were soft and warm and when his tongue darted out into the other’s mouth or it willingly met Herakles’ in his own, there was a faint taste of sugar and coffee.

Herakles broke their kiss and pulled back. When Michele opened his eyes, they went wide upon meeting Herakles’ stare. The pleading in his eyes scared him.

“Mihalis,” Herakles then whispered and Michele was ready to keel over.

“Erculi,” he got out, voice on the verge of tears and held onto Herakles for dear life as they kissed again.

~*~

"Taddarita/Nychterida [νυχτερίδα]" = Bat

"Carusu/Agori [αγόρι]" = Boy (In Greek, it can also be used to mean "Boyfriend". Since the Italian ragazzo works the same way, I assume the Sicilian carusu can also refer to a boyfriend. Do with that information what you will.)

"Liccu/Lihoudis" = Greedy; To have a sweet tooth

[hanaridulsetcheese]

i found you

a song of achilles x red, white and royal blue crossover.

In the darkness, two shadows, reaching through the hopeless, heavy dusk. Their hands meet, and light spills in a flood like a hundred golden urns pouring out of the sun.

Years passed, actually centuries passed after the death of Achilles and his lover Patroclus. The souls of the lovers drifted aimlessly in an unknown void, so close yet so far away from each other. Fate never wanted them to be together, no matter how hard the two fought, it was just never enough.

Suddenly, at the dawn of a new eon, hope seemed to spark as the souls gravitated towards each other, a distant force seemed to have had mercy on them after the eons they spent unable to be together.

"Be reborn. " it spoke as the souls vanished, "Be happy. "

~~~

Henry and Alex stood hand in hand as they waved at the paparazzi from the steps of their plane. The two boys were on their way to Greece as representatives for both the British and American embassy. The paparazzi were still as crazy about the two boys now as they were at the beginning of their relationship, multiple cameras flashed as the boys waved one last time before finally entering the plane.

"Are we really that popular? " Alex plopped himself down on the fine leather seat of the plane, propping his feet up on Henry's lap who sat opposite to him.

"Everyone loves gays in power. " Henry replied.

The flight to Greece was smooth and quicker than the two had excepted it to be. It was already the peak of dusk as they got of the plane. The smell of the Aegean sea air immediately relaxed the boys as they looked forward to their week on the lush island of Delos.

"Greetings Mr. Diaz, Prince Henry. My name is Chiron and I will be taking care of you both during your visit here. " a tall, lean man met them as they got of the plane. His long and curly hair fluttered gracefully in the breeze of the late afternoon. The man extended a broad hand towards them and they took turns shaking his hand. "I trust that your flight here was smooth? "

"Indeed, it was. " Henry agreed.

"Splendid. You both must be famished after the flight so we will take you straight to your hotel when you can have dinner and an early night. " Chiron gestured for the two men behind him to take the luggage from the boys before leading them to an SUV.

During the ride to the hotel, Chiron listened as the two boys marvelled over the passing scenery. Despite the dark of the night the beauty of Greece still shone bright, captivating the boys as they looked around.

Alex was staring to his right hand side at the beach when there was a sudden force that drew towards the left. A row of white Greek columns lined the area, forming a barrier around something that Alex felt lured to.

"Chiron, what's inbetween those columns? " Alex kept his eyes glued to the columns until they drove past it. Henry glanced back to see what Alex was looking at before turning to Chiron to hear what he had to say.

"Those protect the graves and memorials of the soliders who fought during the Trojan War. Among them is the memorial site of the famous Greek hero, Achilles, himself. " Chiron glanced at Alex through the review mirror.

"The memorial site of Achilles? " Alex mumbled before looking back at the columns again, the last column no longer in his sight as they drove further away.

"You okay? " Henry placed a gentle arm over Alex's who just nodded his head and stared back at the beach, lost in his thoughts.

Henry decided that Alex might just be jet lagged and decided to leave him be, keeping his hand interlocked with Alex's for the rest of the car ride.

~~~

It's been three days since the couple arrived in Greece and it had been hectic. They were piled with work as soon as the work up the on the first day, they're schedule packed for almost every minute.

Since the two had to work at different embassies, they saw each other for breakfast and dinner, lunch was usually spent in their respective temporary work places.

As the days past by, Alex had forgotten about the grave of Achilles he'd seen the second they were handed their work. He'd only seen books during the past three days. There was absolutely no time to go out and visit the island of Delos they were on.

However, hard work and determination did prevail as Alex managed to finish his work ahead of schedule and was now free to roam the streets of Delos as he waited for Henry to complete his work.

Walking through a little market alleyway, Alex took in the sight of the locals as they went about their daily lives. They talked, laughed and just enjoyed each other's company, greeting each other enthusiastically as they passed and Alex found himself smiling to himself. He loved the social, carefree nature the Greeks had.

The place was small, innocent and friendly. It was something Alex grew to like during his days in Greece, it was definitely a huge contrast to his life back home.

"Young man, may I offer you a sample of figs? " a friendly old lady held out a platter with the ripest figs Alex had ever seen. He gratefully accepted the offer and poped a fig in his mouth, the fresh flavour exploded, filling his tastebuds with the grainy sweetness of it's juices.

Maybe he was overwhelmed with the sweetness of the fig or he was simply just exhausted from all the work he'd done the past couple of days but as he finished the fruit, he felt his hand reach out for more of the fruit. Each bite he took, a familiar yet foreign feeling took over him.

The old lady watched in delight as the First Son inhaled the fruits one after the other until the plate was cleared.

"You sure seem to like the figs, my boy. " she handed him a tissue to wipe the juice that he didn't even know had trailed down his arm.

"It seems so. I'd never ate anything quite like it before, yet it felt so familiar to me. " Alex looked at the crate of figs that sat on the stand behind her, "Could I please buy some? "

Alex made his way back to the hotel happily with his packet of figs bumping against his legs as he walked. He didn't expect Henry to be in the room as he walked in. The British boy eyed him sceptically as he shut the door behind him.

"What'd you bring? " Henry's voice was thick with exhaustion. He was laid back against the headboard with a book spread open on his lap. Alex jumped onto the bed and showered his tired boyfriend with little pecks all over his face, giggling as he did so.

"I brought you some figs. " Alex said once Henry finally got him to calm down. "It's the best thing you'll ever taste, I swear. " Alex handed the little fruit to Henry and watched eagerly as he bit into the fruit. The bliss that struck Henry's face as the sweetness burst in his mouth made Alex satisfied.

Together, they sat on their bed and devoured the fruit while talking about their day and their time in the beautiful land of Greece. Before they hd realised it, they had come down to the last fig in the packet.

"Catch." Henry tossed the last fig to Alex. Alex felt like he watched the fig in slow motion as it formed a perfect arc before landing into the cup of his palms, soft and slightly warm.

For some reason, Alex had felt like he'd just experienced deja vu. A blured image formed in his head. He found himself looking at a table full of boys however, Alex seemed to only foucs on a specific one.

They sat on opposite ends of the table, everyone's attention was on a boy who was devouring a bowl of figs in front of him. The aura around the boy seemed to draw Alex towards him, making him unable to remove his eyes from the boy.

Suddenly, the boy diverted his gaze from the fruit to Alex who wasn't quick enough to look away. Softly, with a quick flick of his wrist the boy tossed the fig towards Alex, "Catch. "

"Alex? " Henry called out to the dazed boy.

"Huh? What? " Alex focused on Henry who gave him a concerned gaze.

"Are you feeling okay? " Henry placed the back of his hand to Alex's forehead, "You've been acting strange ever since we arrived in Greece. "

"I-I really don't know. I keep getting this feeling like- I don't know, deja vu? " Alex rubbed his temples, "I keeping thinking about those columns we passed the other day. "

"Do you want to go and visit it? " Henry offered.

"I don't think we'd have the time for that. " Alex placed his hand over Henry's and gave him a smile, "It's alright though, I'd much rather spend my time with you. "

That night, as Alex slept soundly it was Henry's turn to think about those columns. Alex had talked about it a few times since they'd got there and Henry couldn't help but want to take him there. He'd do anything for Alex.

Sending a message to Chiron, Henry requested day off for the next day saying that he had something urgent to take care of before snaking his arms around Alex's sleeping body, slipping of to sleep.

The next morning Henry awoke earlier than Alex as usual and prepared himself for the day ahead before waking up his sleeping lover.

Alex peaked at Henry through the half opened lids of his eyes and gave him a toothy grin. He puckered his lips like a fish, demanding his daily morning kiss. "Not with your morning breath, mister. " Henry pulled Alex out of bed and told him to get dressed without any further information before leaving the room.

When Alex had met up with Henry at the lobby of the hotel, they were escorted out by a friendly local who drove them to their destination which Henry still refused to tell Alex about.

After what felt like hours, they finally pulled up to the place that had been on Alex's mind since the beginning on their trip.

"The memorial of Achilles? " Alex marveled at the tall Greek columns that towered over them, all arranged protectively around multiple, marble tombs.

They walked with interlocked hands along the path, acknowledging all the soldiers that fought during the Trojan War. Multiple flowers lined the banks of the tombs along with notes written by locals who were still grateful for the war they fought.

At the very center of the memorial stood the grandest marble tomb, it's surface gleamed in the sunlight as if heaven itself was acknowledging the memorial. Alex dropped Henry's hand and walked aimlessly towards the tomb.

"I could recognize him by touch alone, by smell; I would know him blind, by the way his breaths came and his feet struck the earth. " Alex ran his hands along the tomb of Achilles.

"I would know him in death, at the end of the world. " Alex's voice was now barely above a whisper.

"Alex, what are you saying? " Henry placed an arm on the boys shoulder.

Alex turned to him, tears glazed his eyes and threatened to spill as he stared back at Henry. The deep brown eyes of Alex stared longingly at Henry's as if he hadn't seen them before. It felt as if the person looking at Henry was not just Alex, but for some reason be still felt connected to that person.

"I have found you, my love. " Alex said. "Achilles, we can be happy now. "

Henry finally understood what was happening, it was as if all the mysteries in the world finally became clear. "Patroclus, we found each other. "

[mysmegrace]

Hey! I noticed your masterlist is a bit empty, can i fix that? Haha. Maybe you could write some headcanons with Saeran (and if you do more characters), Jaehee and Jumin having a cooking date with mc? Like maybe cookies, or browniesor cake! Idk haha. Sorry for the long ask. ☺️

Hey 👋 Haha yeah my master list isn’t doing so well right now lol. I love your ask, it’s so cute, and it’s not long at all! I didn’t see this until right now so forgive me if this is late lol!

Cooking Date with Saeran/Jumin/Jaehee 🥘

Saeran (Normal Ending)🌹

Staying indoors all day wasn’t fun in the slightest. Fortunately for you and Saeran, the coronavirus hadn’t reached the island you inhabited yet

Given that didn’t mean you guys were entirely safe, so you two had to follow the safety measures just like the rest of the RFA had to do back in South Korea

That meant you had to forget about your vacation to Greece you had planned for to go explore the European country and discover it’s beauty

You two definitely weren’t happy about that as you both were incredibly excited about the trip, the cancellation of the trip caused your moods to tank this week

As if you two weren’t already down in the dumps enough, you woke up to loud rain drops banging on your window

When seeing the combination of strong rain and high winds, a sigh escaped your lips

Walking around the island and admiring the gorgeous nature combined with seas that surrounded it was the only thing bringing you two comfort in these rough times

But because of how messy the weather was today, you couldn’t even do that

Feeling upset, you accepted defeat from Mother Nature and laid back down in bed, cuddled up to Saeran

After resting another few hours, the weather had only gotten worse, contrary to what you’d hope it’d be

You could see the look of disappointment that came across Saerans face as he looked outside the window

Nature was not just a pretty sight to Saeran, but a much stronger comforting sight to him, so you understood completely how this made him feel

The entirety of your early afternoon contained of just you and Saeran laying down focused on your phones

Nearing dinner hours you got a sudden yet welcoming motivation to get up and make something out of this horrible day after seeing lots of inspiration online

After a lot of thought you came to the conclusion that a cooking date sounds like something you two could use right now

You surfed the web until you came across the perfect recipe, Moussaka for dinner and Loukoumades for dessert

Two Greek dishes served frequently around Greece, maybe trying your hand at making these dishes could lighten your moods

This sounds like a great idea not only because it’s delicious food, but also because it could give you and Saeran a feel of Greece far away from the country

With everything planned and making sure all ingredients are in stock, you approach Saeran with your plan

He isn’t too enthusiastic when hearing your idea but with the puppy face you’re giving him, he found it hard to deny your offer

So he eventually agreed and you two were off to work

You turned on some calming music while you and Saeran began cutting up the vegetables needed for the Moussaka together

As time went on, you noticed you began getting happier as you two were cooking and making conversation

Your plan seemed to be working incredibly

After all ingredients were done and assembled correctly, you two gave it all time to cook

While it was cooking, you started talking about the future and about your dreams, you could tell his mood was lifting

You grew increasingly open with each other in discussing your wants and dreams, then a sudden but very welcomed kiss from Saeran touched your lips

It was only a little kiss, but that little kiss turned into another little kiss, and eventually it wasn’t just a little kiss anymore

You thought back to the days in Mint Eye, you could never see you and Saeran coming so far, but here you were now making out on the couch you shared

His hand laid gentle on your cheek as you two sat there enjoying every piece of each other and this amazing feeling

You both snapped back to reality once the timer rang loud through the home

Getting up disappointed because you two were interrupted, you walked over to take out the dinner with Saeran following you

Once you sat it down to cool, a giggle left Saerans mouth as his eyes laid on a trace of honey he left on your cheek

You returned his chuckle as you attempted to wipe the honey off with a towel

His hand stopped you from doing so as he turned your face towards him and wiped the trace of honey off with his thumb

“Thank you” you replied to his actions accompanied with a blush

“No need to thank me, it’s my job” he responded

You gave him a loving smile as you turned around to grab plates

You served the meal blown with a kiss on top as you two got to eating

Satisfied with the creation, you both had a loveable conversation and got a little piece of Greece in your home while missing out on your trip

After dinner dessert was served and you could’ve sworn you gained 30lbs from that delicious food

You both realized as long as you two are together, there’s no excuse to be upset about something that can always hold off until a later date

Jumin💎

The front door opening got your attention as you laid on the couch waiting for Jumin to arrive home

An hour ago he had run out to the grocery store to pick up some essentials and ingredients you two would need tonight

You both had planned cooking a meal together this afternoon and enjoying it over a candle lit table

Having a dinner date inside the home to relax and spend time together was something you definitely needed

It was perfect to make you feel even more loved and great for Jumin to lift stressful things from his mind

After an exhausting week of almost working himself to death, he brought up the idea to you

You didn’t even need to think before you agreed

Knowing Jumin, he was going all out

You swore the table cloth alone costed more than your rent for your old apartment

While he was sliding off his shoes with his arms holding many bags, you walked up to him and placed a short but sweet kiss on his lips

After you both brought the bags to the kitchen and got them unpacked, you got to work

You decided on stir-fry and lava cake

With Jumin focusing on the vegetables and chicken, you got to work on the sauce

Every time he passed you to get to the fridge, his hands wrapped around your waist for a brief minute as he placed a soft kiss on your temple

A light blush always came over your cheeks whenever he did loving actions like this, even after 3 years of marriage

You both were getting into conversations about life

About Elizabeth the 3rd, the next RFA party, plans for C&R, the current political climate, and much similar

Jumin was such an interesting man, how he could talk for hours about topics regarding the economy and fail to make you bored is beyond you

But you liked that about him, along with many other attributes of his

You always felt loved and protected in his presence, a feeling you’ve never felt throughout your childhood

As your conversation slowly shifted and you two starting getting more depth with your discussions, he expressed how much love he felt for you everyday

He never thought he could love someone this much, he can’t even imagine how much more love he’ll have in his heart when/if you two create your own family

While talking, you added the stir fry sauce to his concoction of vegetables & chicken on the stove, along with adding in noodles

You stirred the mixture carefully, making sure not to spill

An unexpected hand came on top of yours and joined you in stirring the mixture

You took those few minutes when he was directly behind you to take the situation in, to just breathe out and relax in his presence

Your stir fry was cooked perfectly as you turned off the heat and let it to cool a bit

While cooking, you both got to work on the lava cake

It was a quick & simple recipe that Jumin had never attempted to make before

He usually had his chef cook for you both so this entire experience was a special occasion to him

You both continued where u left off in your conversation

The look in his eyes as he spoke passionately, the way his lips moved along with his words, god you loved this man

You still remember the days when Jumin seemed like such a cold man to you at first

But when getting closer to him and hearing him open up to you, you realize how broken he’s been from childhood

He deserved better

Your thoughts were cut off the loud timer going off

As Jumin went to take out the cake, he told you to go get dressed

You were confused but listened, he had an outfit already laid out for you on the bed you two shared

He really was over the top somethings

After getting the gorgeous dress on, you walked back out to the kitchen to meet him

You were met with a well set table already prepared and a lit candle in the centre of you two

He took your soft hand into his and led you to your seat, pulling your chair in and out for you

He joined you seated at the table and you two became to eat

The dinner tasted great, better than you both expected

It wasn’t to his chefs level, but it was great for a non-chef

The rest of your night was spent in each other’s arms drinking a glass of wine on the couch

you two may or may not have had a shower after to clean yourselves off together and did some things 👁👄👁

Jaehee 🧁

You arrived at Jaehee’s apartment around noon

You two had planned to bake some cookies and donate them to the orphanage to give to children

Jaehee had her cooking supplies ready before you even arrived, she’s incredibly good at being prepared

You both got straight to work and had decided on chocolate chip and raisin cookies

Jaehee turned on some music to listen to in the background

She did the chocolate chip, you did raisin

A song came on from her playlist that you loved, you knew the dance to it and everything

You started dancing as you mixed the batter, singing along to the songs

That earned you a quick look of confusion from Jaehee

You stopped mixing and sat down the bowl as you stretched your hand out to Jaehee, offering her to dance with you

She stared for a minute before hesitantly agreeing after you told her to let loose a little

You started off slow, making sure she got a hang of the moves

Then you began gaining pace, building up speed

You saw a smile creep onto her face as she moved along with you

The song came to a short and after a short laugh you both got back to work

Hours passed of you making cookies before you were done, covered in a mess

You wiped your finger into the flour you had on your apron

You gave Jaehee an unexpected surprise by swiping the flour on her nose

She quickly returned your action back and you were soon in a flour war zone

After coating each other in the white powder, you two decided to call it quits for the day as you removed your apron

Looking at the cookies on the counter, you both grabbed one and cheered them together, making a toast

“To us”

I hope you enjoyed! I apologize if Jaehee’s seems rushed in any way, it’s almost 3am right now and I’m not functioning properly lol. Plus I’m not the best at writing with Jaehee. Thank you for your request!

REQUESTS: OPEN

[wreckofawriter]

The Colors of Us

Pairing: Blaise Zabini x muggle!reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: tiny bit of swearing, drinking

Request: @prettylittlehiddles: Hey! I'm completely in love with your work! Could I perhaps request one where Blaise Zabini meets the muggle!reader in a cozy cafe and then their relationship grows, but after a month or so, he has to leave to attend to something in the wizarding world and returns to meet the reader again who has hopelessly fallen in love with him just by losing her mind over not being able to see him? Thanks!

A/n: tiny bit more angst than intended, mostly fluffy. Hop you like it!

    Blaise pushed open the door to the small cafe to find it surprisingly busy, it's usually quiet atmosphere replaced by one of chatter and laughter. He ignored it, heading to the counter and ordering a drink, turning to look for a place to sit after he did so. His eyes scanned the small room finding a few seats open, unfortunately, their tables were not. He began to judge the people sitting near each available chair. One was next to two girls a bit older than him who were laughing together over frappuccinos, another an elderly couple and the final small booth, a figure curled behind a book occupying one side. 

    As his name was called he grabbed the coffee and made his way towards the empty side of the booth. You had your nose buried in a book a pair of headphones on your head. Your knees were pulled to your chest, your back against the window behind you. You looked up as you felt a tap on your shoulder. 

    Blaise stifled a chuckle when your gaze met his, you looked like he had awoken you from a deep sleep your eyes wide, hair a bit disheveled as you pulled your headphones around your neck. 

    “Can I sit here?” He asked, “The rest of the cafe is full.” 

    You seemed to take a second to process the information he had just given you before nodding and grinning at him, “Sure.” 

    He smiled back, sliding across form you and taking a sip of his drink. “I’m Blaise by the way.” He spoke sticking out your hand. 

    You shook it, “Y/n, its nice to meet you.”  It fell silent as you pretend to read peeking over your book at the attractive man sitting across from you. You blushed when your eyes met cursing yourself mentally. 

    “What are you reading?” He asked cringing at his generic question but happy that the silence was gone. 

    You held the book up so he could see the cover, “Freiheit 451.” you responded before lowering it and stirring your own drink. 

    “A classic.” he grinned, “Have you read it before?” 

    “Yeah but it when I was really young so I had a hard time understanding it.” You explained, “It still makes me mad though.” 

    “It makes everyone mad.” he chuckled. 

    “Yeah, I guess that’s kinda the point.” You shrugged, “I take it you’ve read it.” 

    “I did last year I think actually but I much prefer The Long Rain, less popular but good never the less.” He explained.

    Your eyes shone a bit as he spoke, “I haven’t read that one, so it’s good?”

    “Definitely.” He smiled leaning forward o his elbows.

    “Okay, what’s your all-time favorite book?” You asked before smirking, “I feel like you would have sophisticated taste.” 

    “I do?” His grin widened, “Why’s that?” 

    “I don’t know.” You huffed, “You just..do. So what is it?” 

    Blaise hummed thinking, half about what his favorite book and half about what he would think would impress you. You, of course, didn’t know the difference. “I’m going to have to say Catch-22.” He decided, it was only a half-lie, he quite liked the book he just liked a few others better. 

    “Very good choice.” You smiled, “Mine’s To Kill a Mocking Bird, I wish Harper Lee wrote more than she did, one book isn’t enough.” 

    The conversation continued branching from books to bands to movies. Your own book was closed and in the seat next to you as you leaned forward towards the boy smirking across from you. You bit back giggles as he told you stories of his friends, your coffee long gone cold. 

    He glanced at his watch and clenched his jaw, “I’ve got to go.” He mumbled standing from his seat. 

    “Oh.” You attempted to mask your disappointment with a small smile. 

    Blaise smirked back, “Are you available tomorrow?” 

    “I think so.” You answered scrunching your brow, unsure. 

“Can you meet me back here at noon?” He asked placing his hands on the table and lowering himself to your level. 

“S-sure.” You stumbled over the simple word, he was close, too close. You could smell his cologne, something you were sure cost more than everything you were wearing combined, his breath was peppermint coffee. 

“Great.” He grinned, “I’ll see you then.” 

“Okay.” You breathed out, so suddenly infatuated you were sure he had cast a spell over you. Your cheeks burnt with firey blossoms, your mind seemed hazy. 

He stood up and walked away with a small wave. 

You squealed the second he stepped out of the door, slamming your hands over your mouth. 

Blaise pretended not to hear despite the widening smile that found his lips. 

The next day you awoke uncharacteristically early, you got ready in a flash despite still having an hour before you would even begin to have to make your ways towards the cafe. You busied yourself with reading, managing to finish Fernhiet 451 and suddenly wishing you could set it on fire all over again.  You left your house about 20 minutes before noon a new book, Cold Mountian, lodged under your arm, your wallet stuck in the back pocket of your jeans. You could not keep the boy from your thoughts. His everything remained in your thoughts as you boarded the bus and hopped off four stops later. You got to the cafe ten minutes early and was surprised to see Balise already inside, sitting at the same booth you had occupied yesterday. 

You took a deep breath, gathering yourself before entering. You walked over to the booth but before you could sit down he had risen, handing you a drink and practically dragging you from the shop. 

Bewildered you stopped after reaching the sidewalk, “Blaise! What was that?” 

He only smirked back his eyes sparkling, “We have to hurry, it’s a good thing you weren’t late.” 

“What?” you asked.

He reached into his pocket and removed two tickets, “My mom gave them to me yesterday after I met you and I thought it would be fun.” 

Upon closer inspection of the tickets, you gasped, “Holy shit! How did you get those?” 

He shrugged, “Come on we’ve got to go, it starts in like 20 minutes.” Then he stopped smile faltering, eyes falling, “I mean unless you don’t want to go, I didn’t really ask you or anything.” 

You laughed, “Are you kidding, you scored tickets to Phantom of the Opera and you think I’m not going?” 

His lips turned up again, “Then let’s go.” 

And you did. 

Day after day you met up with Balise, your summer went from a dull grey to splashed with vibrant colors you didn’t even know existed. Every day he would have some other amazing and over the top activity for you to do. He took you to Italy insisting his mother honestly did not care. You went cliff diving into the Mediterranean Sea, he took you to Greece, you saw the ruins of the Parthenon and in Rome you and eat at some far too expensive Italian restaurant before viewing the Colosseum. Blaise was like a deity that had been sent to make your life incredible. 

His bottomless amount of money confused you at first until you went to his house, or I guess you should call it an estate. His mother wasn't exactly fond of you but in all honestly, you didn't care all that much, Blaise was about as connected to his mother as you were. 

Three days before you began your final year of high school you and Blaise lay on the hood of your old Subaru tipsy on cheap beer as you stared up at the constellations. 

"How the hell do you know so many of these damn things?" You giggled as Blasie explained yet another group of stars you barely recognized. 

"Our school makes us take astrology." He shrugged. 

You laughed, "Of course it does." 

Things fell quiet. The chirp of crickets who would be dead in a few weeks echoing around you. The warmth of summer was dying and you were dressed in a light sweater and a pair of Blaise’s sweatpants cinched tightly around your waist. 

You yawned turning to look at the boy only to find his eyes already on you. You swam in the chocolate brown reflecting the stars above you. Your heart throbbed when he smiled at you. You could feel your cheeks begin to heat and you hoped he would blame it on the slight breeze that rolled through.

He didn't. 

You leaned closer to the Slytherin, his breath fanning across your face. He could smell your perfume, an intoxicating scent. His hand wandered around your neck, tugging you closer. Your eyes slipped shut and your lips met. 

The kiss was soft and slow, his lips slightly chapped, his breath was warm and inviting. You slipped your hand around his shoulder and his tongue slid across your bottom lip. Then suddenly, as if struck by something, he jerked away, sitting away from you. 

Your eyes snapped open, a shiver running through you, you felt suddenly cold without Blaise's heat. 

"I'm sorry y/n." He spoke quietly. "I shouldn't have done that." 

"Why not?" You asked desperately, just wanting to taste him again.  

He paused, "We're drunk." 

"I'm not drunk." You stated, "Are you drunk?" 

"No." He answered numbly, sliding from the hood of your car. 

"Than what's up Blaise?" You questioned standing as well.

"I just- ya know- I mean your-" he started multiple sentences as unsure what he was saying as you were.

"If you didn't want to kiss me Zabini you could have just told me." You explained, "I wouldn't have held it against you or anything." 

"No. It's not you. I wanted to kiss you I really did. It's just that-" he sighed biting his lip, "I mean I'm leaving for school tomorrow and I won’t see you for months and I mean your a muggle and everything, god this is so confusing." He groaned letting his head fall into his hands. 

"I'm a what?" You asked slightly annoyed at this point.

"Nothing." He mumbled. 

"Look if this is about your school, I can wait, I can write to you ya know, I mean after this year you're done right?" You said stepping closer to him. 

He let out a shaky breath, "I think I need to go home." 

You squeezed your eyes, tears threateningly close to spilling over but you bit your tongue, "Okay." 

You both got into your car without a word. The silence was suffocating. 

"Are you good to drive?" He asked hesitantly. 

"I'm fine." You snapped back, you knew you shouldn't be mad, it was his choice if he didn't want to kiss you, he had no obligation to you. Yet a fire burned, anger causing your jaw to tighten and your eyes sting. 

The drive back was silent, the only sound being of the tires on the road and the occasional tick of your blinker. You pulled in front of his estate and stopped, your grip on the wheel turning your knuckles white. 

"I'm sorry y/n." Blaise's voice was melancholy, it only made your throat swell, breathing becoming more and more difficult. 

You swallowed everything inside you and turned to smile at him, "It's okay." Your voice was overly cheery. 

He licked his lips, "I guess I'll see you later." 

"Yeah. Goodbye." You forced out. 

"Goodbye." He responded shutting the door and turning around. A small wave over his shoulder being the last thing you saw before tearing out of the driveway, tears streaming down your cheeks. 

You didn't even make it block before pulling over and breaking down at your wheel, sticky tears dripping onto sweatpants you would never be able to return. 

Blaise swore harshly slamming into his house. His own tears had gathered in his eyes, attempts to blink them away were fruitless as they spilled down his cheeks. 

His mother appeared a few doors away and made her way towards him, "Were you out with that filthy muggle girl again?" 

"At least I wasn't killing another husband." He spat back. 

She shot him a glare, smirking when she noticed his tears, "You ended it didn't you?" She grinned, "Good for you, I didn't think you had the guts." 

"Fuck you." He sneered before turning on his heel and heading towards his bedroom. He still needed to pack. 

Your senior year of high school had the worst start imaginable. You were already heartbroken and you hadn't even dated anyone. You supposed that was the issue. Your friends did their best to help you, they were good. You moved on, well you pretended you did. You didn't date anyone, you made out with one person at a party and immediately regretted it, you had thought it was Blaise for a second. 

The boy plagued your mind. His smirk haunted your dreams, his touch ghosting your thoughts. His laughter constantly echoed in your mind. It was almost psychotic how much your mind wandered towards him. You had had a summer which had been a daydream, the following school year being a nightmare only seemed fitting. 

You buried yourself in your schoolwork, applied for scholarships, plowed headfirst into your sports, took overtime at your part-time job. You didn't think of the handsome boy that you had spent your months of happiness with. Your world faded to grey as his colors were washed away by the hell of high school and the feeling of heartbreak.

The year was over in a flash, you were soon crying on a stage with your friends in a gown and black caps. You wiped your tears, sitting with three of your friends in the middle of the football turf. You laughed as one of them told you a story about her first attempt running hurdles. 

Your giggles stopped suddenly as someone appeared from behind one of the bleachers. Noticing your mood change your friends followed your gaze, she gasped,

"Is that the boy? Blaise?" 

You nodded numbly, in a daze. 

"Should I go beat him up for you? " she asked cracking her knuckles. 

You spared an empty smile, "I'm okay." You stood brushing off the pants you were wearing, having traded in the black gown hours ago. 

As you stood he suddenly broke into a run. You did the same and all too quickly you stood in front of the tall boy, his hair had grown longer, wrapped in tight curls. He had a small scar under his right eye. He looked tired. 

"Y/n, I'm sorry." He spoke quickly, "I should never have said what I did, I'm so so sorry." 

Your heart thumped anger and sadness washing out of you "You're lucky I like you so much." You whispered, "Now kiss me properly."

He did as he was told, sweeping you off of the ground his arms around your waist and tugging you towards him. You snaked your hands around his neck pulling him impossibly closer. You titled your head upwards allowing him to deepen the kiss as you opened your mouth. He tasted like peppermint and lime, so sharp yet so amazing. 

You pulled away and he set you back onto your feet. Ignoring the whistles and catcalls from your friends"I missed you like hell." You confessed. 

He laughed, his hands coming to cup your face, "Never as much as I missed you." His heart throbbed as your eyes began to gloss. "I'm so sorry for ever leaving you as I did."

You lunged forward, burying yourself into his neck, "I think I love you, Blaise." You whispered into his ear. 

"I know I love you." And your world was once again flooded with color. 

Taglist:

@accio-rogers

@roslea

@k3nz-doodl3

@theseuscmander

@sleepingalaska

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