#knoxie

[roenais]

Might I request a Philza Minecraft?

im surprised ive never made a serious attempt at drawing this guy. he's harder than i expected LMAO.

[ghostlychaosfoil]

is he a dog or a mouse

what is he doing in my house

[riverphoenixsgothwife]

actor boys if they were bath and body works fragrances

kris lemche: into the night (described as "a timeless, feminine, alluring night on the town - raspberry noir, amber crystals, velvety rose petals, creamy patchouli and mocha musk" on bath and body works dot com)

chad donella: dahlia ("bright and floral with a dash of intrigue - a beautiful blend of dahlia petals, crisp pear and praline")

christian slater: oh, cherry ("irresistable addiction, bring on the bold with this punch of red fruit -  black cherry, sheer magnolia and tonka bean")

ryan merriman: gingham ("a fresh, vibrant, happy celebration - blue freesia, white peach, fresh clementine, violet and clean musk")

texas battle: twilight woods ("the warmth and mystery of an enchanted forest -  lush berry, sparkling mandarin, soft mimosa, apricot nectar and cypress wood")

matthew lillard: pumpkin swirl cake ("a perfectly spiced, falltime dessert - pumpkin spice, caramel toffee and creamy vanilla")

johnny knoxville: love always wins ("a sparkling celebration of who you are - rainbow citrus, water lotus and wood sage")

james spader: pretty as a peach ("the season's sweetest, juiciest just-picked delights - peach, jasmine petals and white nectarine")

jesse moss: first sight ("knowing you found your other half - soft bergamot, rich woods and sugared musk")

bruce campbell: iced lemon pound cake ("a rich, tangy teatime dessert - sugary glazed icing, pure lemon zest, fluffy pound cake and whipped cream")

[the-physicality]

.

[shiftperception]

he

[planetapolilla]

Demon girls worker collab with my friend Knoxy

[sustiawan-author]

can you please write fluff with Knox/charlie 🙏

Baby Hotline - Knox Overstreet . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Knox being absolutely down bad for u lol ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ✩‧₊

Saturday evening; the breeze struck cold and the trees shivered in tandem. Icicles were starting to form on the leaves, painting a blushing hue on anybody's cheeks had they the courage to challenge the winds outside.

Which was why Knox stayed indoors, perfectly content in the comfort of his grown out room. Posters of football teams decorated his walls, slashes of green, whites, and bright colors livening up the otherwise cozy atmosphere.

It was the best — especially when his favorite, sweet voice was practically adoring him from the other line of the phone.

"Knox," you playfully chastised, "hang up the phone."

"No, you hang up the phone," he husked with a dreamy chuckle. His friends would've made fun of him if they weren't so desperate for the same exchange. Knox plopped on his bed, stomach down as he bit his lip. He twirled the phone cord around his index finger,

"I missed you," Knox confessed through a pout he didn't intend to have, sighing, "I wish we could be closer."

"Me too, baby," you comforted, your tone akin to caressing his hair, "it's alright. We'll get our time."

"But when?" he insisted, ever so petulant. His line rustled as he flipped onto his back, propping his head on the pillows. Knox's brown hair was a mess on top of his head, face exhausted from the exertion of calculus and other lessons he couldn't want more to get away from. It was a blessing he already got to his sleep clothes; a pair of plaid pajama pants and a nice-fitting sweater above.

"Is my baby impatient?" you teased, "I can sense that you're pouting, you know."

"Can't help it," he broke into a boyish grin, "miss you so much. Just wanna hang out with you. Buy you books, make you happy."

Knox reached back to his shelves, correcting the position of one of his medals. It was dusted, not wiped as much as it needed to be. You didn't care though — always putting it on him, calling him your king when you came over to his house for the first time during semester break.

Now that it's nearly exam week, Knox's patience is thrown off the balance by his longing to just be with his girlfriend for an amount of time he can't yet control or decide. Even then, you always had a way of soothing his ache,

"But we are together now," you whispered, just wanting your big baby to calm down, though you always found him ever so sweet (and admirably pathetic).

"It's not the same," he whined, and you nearly laugh at the image of your six-foot jock sprawled on his bed, shamelessly being like this.

"Wanna touch you, wanna love you right. I want to buy you flowers and see your face when I give it to you," he sighed, "you always smile so nice. It's so pretty."

You rolled your eyes, laughing in disbelief, "Oh, you are one stubborn young man, Mister Overstreet. How could I ever put up with you when we marry?"

"You won't have to," he persisted, sitting up straight, "'cause I'll be on my best behavior when I make you my wife. My wife. You'll greet me back home when I'm tired from my hoity-toity job, and we'll have our children, and they'll look like you, and we'll never have to spend any other day in our lives separated from each other! Isn't that the best, baby?"

You could've answered with something sweet, complicated, or thorough; matching his enthusiasm for a dream you've both conjured since being in each other's lives. Instead, you sigh in gratitude,

"I love you, Knoxie."

Those words from you, and the nickname, incited enough adrenaline rushing in him to launch his body to Mars. Knox saw the view outside, the moon crescendoing into sight and the owls hooted in harmony.

"I love you too, honey," he uttered in pleasant disbelief, his gentle phrase like a rub of his broad palm up and down your back, "wanna go to sleep now?"

"Yeah," you gave a small yawn, "yea, I do."

He shut off his light, settling into bed. One beat, then two.

"Sweetheart?" he mumbled, cheek smushed to the pillows. You giggled, he was adorable.

"Mmhm?"

"Would you dream of me tonight?"

"Every night, I do."

One beat, then two. The line rustled as Knox shifted position,

"Honey?"

"Yes, darling?"

"Don't turn off the phone, okay."

Your heart squeezed at his hoarse tone, exploding into an array of pink butterflies and heart-shaped cotton candy.

"I won't."

i gave him a redemption arc ladies (not really, i just erased his whole major negative plot point but it's fineeeeeee) (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)

no taglist for this one! ^_^ it's a surprise

[perksofbeingpoet]

the beach boys fill the kitchen, happy voices getting lost in the fog of pasta water. pitts sings along in the highest voice he can muster, leaning close into knox when the latter complains, and knox just laughs and softly shoves him away. "c'mon, todd!" charlie is doing a sort-of shuffle on the carpet, using a wooden spoon as a microphone. "will you do me the honours?" todd shakes his head, grinning, but accepts charlie's outstretched hand, losing himself in the improvised dance moves and the sound of harmonies and bubbling sauce. pitts whistles. "look at you go, anderson! i might have to change dance partners- ow, i was joking!" meeks grins. "you wouldn't dare, anyway." charlie's eyes gleam under the kitchen lights. "oohh, this calls for a dance battle! c'mon, meeks!" "fine", meeks chuckles, handing knox the spatula. "knoxie, your turn." knox licks some sauce off his fingers, grin wide as he turns up the music. "take it away, guys."

[wilsons-three-legged-siamese]

RIGHT... moots assemble we're doing this shit

GUYS CLAIM YOUR DPS MEMBER 🙌

AHEM: options:

Neil ✔

Todd ✔

Meeks ✔

Cameron

Stick ✔

Pitts

Charlie ✔

Keating ✔

Knox ✔

@noctilucaa - TODD 💗

@sunshine-and-misery - CHARLIE 😻

@lv3buzz - NELLY 🥰

@i-love-steven-meeks - STICKERS 💞

@desire-mona - not replied 😖

@arrr-im-a-dead-poet - KNOXIE 🙌

@asclexe - KEATING 😍

@neil-perrys-suicidal-tendencies - (idk if doing it 😔)

Me - I'm claiming Meeks nobody can stop me

I'LL FILL IN EVERYONES LITTLE DECISIONS 🤭

[knoxoverstreetluvr]

Boy Crush (N. Perry x T. Anderson)

- - - -

disclaimer: Long ago, i saw a post saying that the boys definitely hyped up Neil before he went to meet Todd, and that stuck with me. So there’s that, also the brush reference is from the shower scene cause Cameron has this brush then at the other bathroom scene before the play Pitts also has one so i HC Cameron gave one to Pitts😌

- - - -

“Who… is that…?” Neil asks Meeks softly, peaking around a pillar at the blonde boy who had just entered the Welton courtyard.

“Todd Anderson, moved over from Balincrest,” The ginger replied, pushing his glasses up his nose and shifting the weight of his suitcase in his hand.

“Anderson as in Jeff Anderson..? As in the major hunk from the Rowing Team?!” Neil whisper yelled, keeping an eye on Todd from behind the pillar.

“Yes Neil, that Anderson.” Meeks replied, looking up to see Knox, Charlie, and Pittsie walking over.

Charlie claps his hand on Neil’s shoulder as he stands beside him, quickly seeing the flustered expression on his best friend’s face.

“I know that look. New kid?” Charlie said, looking over his shoulder for the boy Neil had spotted.

“Not only a new kid. It’s Jeff Anderson’s brother, and somehow he has managed to outdo his brother’s looks by a long shot.” Neil says, pointing at Todd as his friends peaked over his shoulders.

“Go talk to him.” Knox suggested, watching as Todd settled himself on the stone ledge to look at a map of the school.

“Knoxious are you crazy?! Neil would-“ Charlie starts, before Neil interrupts quickly.

“What should I say, Knox?” He asked, watching as Todd continued struggling with the map.

“Ask if he needs help with getting around the school. It’s better to start casual and see that Todd’s not just a pretty face.” Knox answered, as Neil nodded in response.

“Okay.. okay I can do that…. casual, yeah.” Neil responded, as Pitts started fanning Neil’s face.

“Don’t pass out on us Neil.” Pitts said, which earned a soft giggle from Meeks.

“How do I look? Is this an acceptable outfit to meet the love of my life in?” Neil questioned, giving his friends a spin.

Pitts reached in his pocket and pulled out a brush, “Cameron recommended me this brush,” He mumbles softly, brushing Neil’s hair.

Meeks reaches into his suitcase and pulls out cologne, and spraying Neil, as Pitts finishes brushing his hair.

“Open.” Charlie says, popping a breath mint in Neil’s mouth.

“Oh God he’s standing up to leave, hurry guys,” Neil hums, crunching the mint between his teeth and swallowing it.

“You are ready young one,” Knox says, giving Neil a soft push towards the courtyard.

As Neil walks off, the rest of the group watched him like proud parental figures, Charlie slinging an arm around Knox.

“Our boy’s growing up Knoxie…” Charlie says, feigning emotions in his voice and turning his head to fake cry in Knox’s shoulder.

Pitts then slaps a hand on the back of Charlie’s head, saying, “Oh shut up and watch to make sure Neil doesn’t shut down and fall out before even getting over to Todd.”

Neil approaches Todd, jogging slightly to catch up with the new boy.

“Hi… I’m uh- Neil Perry. I saw that you’re new…” Neil starts, stopping as Todd stops and faces him.

A soft smile graces the blonde boy’s facing as he looks at the boy who he now knows as Neil Perry.

Todd had seen him at the opening ceremony. He carried a flag in with a slight air of confidence, and boy did Todd think he was cute.

“‘M Todd Anderson,” he mumbles softly, sticking out his hand that wasn’t occupied by a map.

“How’d you know I was new?”

“I saw you.. I mean, not like that I just… oh boy,” Neil says, taking Todd’s hand and shaking it wearily.

“Sorry Todd, I’m not usually this nervous around new people.” Neil hums, dropping his hand and looking at Todd with big brown eyes.

Todd giggles quietly and covers his mouth, “I’m not even the type of person you should be nervous around.”

Before Neil can embarrass himself more by explaining to Todd that, “Yes, you are the type to be nervous around Todd Anderson.” he continues,

“Well anyway, I saw you were new and I figured I could help you around the school. That map is practically useless, it was printed in 1920.” Neil chuckles, bringing a hand to Todd’s shoulder and starting to walk towards the stairwell that leads to the dorms.

Todd nods and looks around to see a group of boys looking at the pair of them.

“Who are they?” he questions, as Neil continues their trek up the stairs.

“My friends, you’ll meet em later…. so your dorm number? We’ll throw our stuff down and then head out for the grand tour” Neil says, turning around and shooing the boys away behind Todd’s back.

“314.” Todd answers, looking at Neil as a smile spread across Neil’s face.

“Well welcome to Welton roomie, it looks like you’re stuck with me now. Not only am I your guide but we will be bed neighbors.” Neil chuckles, opening the door to room 314.

“That’s totally fine by me,” Todd agrees, throwing his suitcase on his bed and looking at Neil triumphantly.

Neil smiles as Todd thinks,

“Roomie… more like first ever boy crush.”

[ghostlychaosfoil]

i have one of these things

[askknox]

Go on then. I’ll go fish it out from the old ice bucket in m’ car. One sec, buddy boy.

esther smith.

thats it poryphone send the post send post

[heliads]

If requests are still open :) Something for dead poets society, just sth with the gang having a good time, maybe trying to stage a play in the woods? Tbh just a everyone lives and is happy AU with fluff and winter and hot tea! (while I love this book I havent read it in a very long time...)

ok consider an everyone lives au but they are not 100% happy. (i am incapable of not writing angst my apologies) also this is movie dead poets society not book because i have not yet read the books whoops. hope you enjoy xoxo

'and it's not tonight' - dead poets society

masterlist

Todd Anderson is looking out the window at a gray, blustery morning, when they ask him if he’s going to be alright. It wasn’t quite certain before then. It’s not quite certain now, either, even after he answers.

“Of course,” he says somewhat unconvincingly, “Why do you ask?”

Behind him, Charlie Dalton raises a dubious brow. For once in his life, he’s holding himself back, but the situation requires discretion, and who is he to mess up at a time like this? He’s already been warned about treating Todd like a glass doll rather than a paper mache target, but even Charlie can tell that now is the time to pull a few punches. The hollows under his friend’s eyes are far darker than they were a couple of months ago. He wears unease like a well-traveled coat, thin at the elbows and rubbed raw at the seams.

“Look at yourself,” Charlie answers at last, “You’re exhaustion walking. And don’t tell me otherwise, I’ve got eyes.”

“I should hope so,” Todd remarks, and permits himself a small curl of his lips up into a half-smile. Half-smiles are good, though. Almost there to the real thing. So he’ll tell himself, at least.

Even a half-smile can let Charlie know that he’s alright. The other boy breaks into a well-intentioned snorting laugh. “Hey, ask any girl in town and they’ll tell you I’ve got beautiful ones. ‘Sides, Anderson, you know everything’s alright. The stuff with Neil was cleared over, right? He came back.”

“He came back,” Todd repeats somewhat weakly.

“Yeah, yeah, he came back,” Charlie confirms, walking over to clap his friend on the shoulder, shaking him a little bit just to mess with him but mainly to get his affections across. “He’s a little more tired than he used to be, and we’re all plenty scared from what could have happened, but overall we’re glad to see him again. His parents realized they messed up in the nick of time, and even if they wanted him under watch for a little bit, he’s back and we’re back and everything’s alright. Capiche?” He asks dramatically, wiggling his eyebrows for a bit of flair.

“Since when are you Italian?” Todd asks doubtfully.

“Since the situation requires it,” Charlie answers him, and slings an arm around the boy’s bony frame. “Come on now. The snow’s cleared up, and even if all that does is remind us how little grass grows on our campus, it means we can go into the woods again. I’ve been talking to the boys and we all agree that it’s time to dust off our finesse with literature. What do you say, Todd? You up for another rousing poetic exchange tonight?”

Todd jerks his head up and down in a hasty agreement. “Yeah. Neill’ be there?”

“Yeah, and me, and Knoxie, and everyone else you forgot to mention,” Charlie says in a tone of mock outrage. “God, you live with the guy, don’t you? Can’t you spare some excitement for the rest of us, too?”

Todd rolls his eyes, and finds the grace to elbow Charlie in the ribs. “Spare me the self-indulgence, Dalton. I’m glad to see all of you.”

“Don’t I know it,” Charlie affirms. “It’s been a while since we were all together, yeah?”

Todd blows out a low breath as they walk back towards the halls. It has been a long time, or it felt that way, at least. After the– after the incident after the play, in which Neil was found in his father’s study with a gun in his hands about to blow the trigger, it was decided that all of the pupils of Welton Academy would go home for a short period of time to clear their heads and come back ready to face the end of term. 

Mainly, Todd thinks it was so rumors couldn’t spread about just what happened with Neil Perry to take him out of school, and he’s glad for it. Neil doesn’t deserve to have everyone whispering about what happened to make him decide that the best thing for his life was to end it. Neil deserves the world, and none of them could give it to him.

That was the worst part of it all, Todd decides. The guilt, how it wrapped around him in wires as strong as the heaviest chains of iron. He couldn’t escape it. If he was really Neil’s friend, he would have known. If he was really Neil’s friend, Todd could have stopped him. If he was really Neil’s friend, Todd wouldn’t have found out about the attempt the next morning, quietly awoken from drowsy sleep by a Charlie Dalton with eyes like a stricken soldier as he lurchingly informed Todd that Neill Perry had tried to kill himself the night before. And none of them had known. And when his father had taken the gun away, Neil fought and screamed for it, worse than he did when he tried to convince his parents that he wanted to act, louder than he protested that he would be sent away to military school.

And then they were alone. At home. The worst place for boys to be. Should you grieve the friend who is not dead? Do you call each other on the phone, and ask if you have been playing any sporting games with other boys your age, or if you have given any thought to the fact that your friend might not have wanted to die if you had praised him more in class, or clapped louder when he performed, or said something– anything– to this beautiful, brittle boy?

They don’t say any of that. They think it quite loudly, but unspoken thoughts do not travel well over the telephone. The flittering ghosts of would-be words tend to get lodged in the coils of wire from receiver to housing, across the street and over the miles of terrain until they reach the abode of the boy on the end, who also has a lot to say but won’t. And then they both stay silent. And they both know exactly what the other wanted to say anyway. That is how friendship works.

They came back, though. Welton sent out a series of letters to usher back the pupils, even had its secretaries working overtime to call the people who never seem to answer their mail. There was another rush of cars and luggage to the dorms, and then they were settled in again. Todd had wondered if he might be assigned another roommate– anyone other than Cameron, God, but preferably Neil still– and then the door had opened quietly and Neil was there again, trying for a brave smile, and saying, “Todd?” in a voice that had once rung pure and true through a theater that loved him.

Todd loves him for it. He’d embraced Neill with open arms, felt the air punch out of his lungs in one strike, but it came back. He came back. They were alright again, sort of. They might be alright in time, but time is what they have.

Now they’ve all been waiting for the snow to melt, and treading on thin ice around topics they don’t dare broach. Neil has been a good sport, never making them feel awkward for wanting to treat him like a china doll. He was good before, too, though, and– It gets hard to tell sometimes, that’s all. Hard to tell when he genuinely is unbothered and when he’s superbly good at pretending otherwise. They stick to safer subjects anyway.

At last, though, the ground is firm, the weather not terrible, and Charlie’s gone and rallied the troops for a night out there. At first, Todd’s first instinct is to panic. They aren’t supposed to be having any more meetings of the Dead Poets Society, not since Keating was the scapegoat for all the trouble and everyone cracked down on what makes a good boy want to escape, but over time he realizes that it’ll be alright. Some things are worth the risk. Making Neil smile again is one of them.

They meet at midnight. Todd sits awake with bated breath, even though the act by itself isn’t even all that unusual. They’re teenage boys. Staying up until the moon hangs high and lofty in the sky is expected, not uncommon. Still, a delicious shiver of inherent wrongdoing whispers down his spine when Neil walks slowly into the center of their shared dorm room and says quietly, reverently, “It’s time.”

As if the others had been waiting upon that very proclamation, the remaining boys peer out into the hall immediately after Neil and Todd silently close their door behind them. Their eyes meet with shared secrecy, shared triumph, and they make their way down the wooden stairs and out into the bristling chill of night. The stars are out tonight. We are all out tonight.

They all start heading out into the woods. Charlie takes off like a flash at the end of a matchstick, hurtling at a runner’s sprint across the hills, and the others follow him at varying speeds. Todd begins walking at a normal clip until it occurs to him that he doesn’t see enough heads bobbing around him and he turns to see Neil hesitating by the door.

They lock eyes, and Todd sees a whole host of things swimming in brown irises, fear and apprehension and a sick sort of guilt that makes Todd’s stomach squirm in sympathy. He gives Neil one last moment over the threshold, then jerks his head towards the others, putting a little faux arrogance into the gesture in the hopes that an actor might appreciate an act in someone else and remember what it is like to trust oneself again.

Neil accepts the move and grins, his teeth flashing in the moonlight. “I’ll race you to the caves,” he calls, and begins to run, his footsteps sure and strong.

Todd stares after him, an astronomer watching his first comet, then takes off after him. The grass is dry and quick under his feet, spread out under each footstep like the wake of a speedboat. The wind, already coarse, pulls at Todd’s skin, his hair, his clothes, but not even the strongest gusts could keep him down. Somehow, he’s already to the edge of the forest, and he lets out a loud, delighted whoop. A barbaric yawp, if you will. Somewhere in the back of Todd’s mind, a dark-haired man in a comfortable brown sweater smiles indulgently, and chalks up another small victory to the wonders of poetry.

The second his war cry leaves Todd’s throat, the other boys swarm him like moths to a flame. Someone claps a hand over his mouth, and around him, laughs echo into the crunching of leaves underfoot. 

“Don’t be so loud, you’ll get the professors on us in no time,” someone admonishes, but then a different boy cuts in, “Don’t be stupid, we’re far enough out that we can all be shouting,” and Todd’s punishment is lifted and he can yell once more. His defender– Neil, it must be, no one else can make their voice ring with glory like that in just a few words– joins in in the triumphant calls, and then they’re all shrieking up to the stars above, here we are, not boys and not men, bold enough to scream and young enough to never listen.

Todd thinks, as they run through the forest, that it’s been a while since he let himself go free. He hasn’t listened to his mind in a long time, hasn’t let the words roll around in his brain, loose marbles of similes and paraphrased poems. His musings are dusty, dark things most of the time, but sometimes the light catches them just right and they glow like sapphires. He could write a thousand stanzas if he wanted to, right now, and everyone would listen.

The Dead Poets Society reaches the caves and a hush falls among the crowd. Slowly, they edge inside, eyes wide. The rock faces and crumbling caverns should be different, Todd thinks, something should mark the passage of time and all the awful things that have twisted their fates since the last time they sat together and thought of prose, but the stones still look as they did the last time they were here. The moss grows in familiar patterns, albeit a little thicker in certain patches now that it hasn’t been scuffed by boots in a month or so, but one of Charlie’s magazines that he forgot to take back with him turns up under some spiderwebs, and Todd’s favorite place to sit is still just as inviting. Maybe, then, the only thing that changed was them. Maybe that’s all that needs to happen.

“So?” Meeks asks, settling into a seat, “What are we doing tonight?”

“Poetry, duh,” Charlie answers him, rolling his eyes fondly. “We’re the Dead Poets Society. What else would we do, peruse our textbooks?”

This earns him a vengeful swat on the shoulder from Meeks, but even Charlie can admit that the question was fair. They’ve read plenty of poems, they’ve written a few, they’ve even gone off and run some improv limerick challenges, although Todd notes that they haven’t brought nearly enough alcohol for that tonight.

After a few moments’ thought, someone suggests a play. It might be Todd. Instantly, the idea is accepted, and roles are divided out. They’ll be doing Hamlet, since there are plenty of long sticks outside and everyone is quite fond of the idea of pretending to run each other through. Pitts is already practicing his death rattles, except he’s not very good at it, and it sounds more like he’s hacking up a lung or two.

Neil, though, is glowing at the idea, and even though they haven’t got any scripts so everyone is mostly just planning on paraphrasing the hell out of one of William Shakespeare’s finer works, Todd gets the idea that Neil has a few memorized soliloquies rattling around in his head already.

Good, then. They’ll enjoy tonight, and the next night they’re out here, and the one after that, too. It has been a very long winter, but Todd has caught his first glimpse of new spring, and he gets the feeling that warmer, sunnier days aren’t the impossibility they seemed a few weeks ago. The days are healing, and they will too. And so the Dead Poets come back to life.

requested by @reinekes-fox, i hope you enjoy!

dead poets society tag list: @faerieroyal

all tags list: @wordsarelife

[pjclappworld00]

knoxy at steve-o's 50th birthday party

[reyreadersblog]

Well..i'm guessing Knoxy is gonna be TRAUMATISED one

[sustiawan-author]

Hot Cappucino - Knox Overstreet . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

knoxie got rejected from his job interview :( but he's wonderful sooo you don't mind

"I'm desperate," Knox muttered. Snow trickled down his shoulder, wetting his coat. You petted it away. His courage slumped as you two approached the avenue, straying further away from the building he walked out of. You rubbed his back, leaning against him like he loved.

"I'm sorry, baby," you cooed softly, "must've been good for you to avoid it, if not then you could've gotten something worse by getting in there."

The scent of toffee danced along the air and you couldn't deny your happiness even after knowing your husband got rejected — no, redirected — from his job application. He was bummed, you knew that. After all, it's most important for him to become your rock in every sense of the word.

"I did everything I could, though," he argued weakly. You grasped his arm tighter.

"I know you did."

Knox kissed the top of your head, sniffing your scent. He closed his eyes. You two stopped in your tracks. Your arms enclosed around his middle, face in his chest. He combed his long fingers through your hair, waiting a moment. Snow fell on your back and he swept it off.

You gazed up at him with a sweet smile and he melted. He scrunched his face before peppering kisses on your face. You squealed away,

"No! No, come on."

You pulled him to one of the cafes, your husband being content as he got dragged away. Knox couldn't keep his hands off of you, holding you, shielding you. He didn't know from what. The bell dinged as you two stumbled in.

"Baby, what?" he chuckled, dreamy eyes against your shadow.

"I'll treat you," you shrugged, observing the choice of pastries inside the glass. Warm, yellow light kept the pastries fresh, the blackboard behind the counter showing customers an array of warm drinks they could choose from.

He groaned, snatching your wallet from your hands.

"Hey!" you complained.

"That would make it worse," he chided, his eyes signaling for you to 'be good, listen to me.' You couldn't disobey, merely huffing in protest, lips falling into a pout. Knox kissed your cheek.

"I want you to eat," you argued.

"Yes, and I'll buy it for us," he said, casual as ever. You whined, pressing further against him. He stood undeterred.

You rubbed his arm, hidden under his thick felt coat. He let you, his hands shoved inside his pockets as he ordered for both of you to the clerk. Knox rubbed your back to reassure you.

You'll never get used to his royalty. The funny thing is, you didn't think you'd ever want to.

your man tbf.

dedicated to:

@someone-sss @sorazki @tofallatlastbutfair @drkaysapothecary @yournormalidiot @anderperry-soliloquies @unfortunately-lilith @heyyyloverr @theduckwithafroghat @marzcrx @dpspolariod @itslusii @blackestwhiteswan @toviye @sleeping-arsonist @asuperconfusedgirl @ajsljfe @noam-isd @claiirr @annie-bby @imwurnout @kitshc