#let me know what you think pls

[notsocooljess]

why wasn’t katniss told about peeta losing his leg before the interview?

i can see an argument that they wanted to get her true reaction to the news on camera, but i feel like this is a weak train of thought at best because (1) to me, it makes them seem not as close/inseparable as they were in the arena, which if they’re trying to convince people of their love story, this is absolutely something you’d want to give off and (2) katniss tries to recoil from big emotions, which at this point i’m sure haymitch has picked up on, so i’m not sure having her hide during the interview for 10 minutes was really ideal.

maybe haymitch wanted her to talk less? but that’s not super convincing for me either. and i very very very highly doubt it somehow was missed to tell her. what’s the intention?

[stressfulsloth]

I've seen a couple of takes about Disco Elysium being copaganda going around recently, and beyond the fact that DE is relentlessly critical of the police force in general and makes explicit reference to the failures of the system that allow the officers in game to abuse their power, I also think it's important to note that there very literally is an in-world version of copaganda that the writers of the game use to parody that romanticised view of the brutality of policing. The RCM at their inception were structurally inspired by in-world copaganda- their culture, their "fashions, even weapon preferences, borrow heavily from classic Vespertine cop shows." Every investigation is it's own little drama, every officer imagining themselves to be the bad-ass hero of their own crime serial. Detectives name their cases like they're naming episodes of a TV series in a "robust but literary system"; a title that "draws inspiration from snoop fiction and Vespertine cop show staples". They give themselves nicknames to sound like cool, suave fictional officers- Ace, Dick Mullen, etc.- from the cool, suave world of copaganda.

The legend of the RCM's inception, the "point of contention" over its uncertain origins, is even an extention of that; the whole organisation is shrouded in this self-fictionalising mythos that allows for distance that in turn obfuscates much of its violence to the officers that participate in it. They get to convince themselves that they're not abusing their power; they're the hero of the story! The dichotomy of "good guy" taking out the "baddies," a manifestation of the libertarian fantasy of the "good guy with a gun" who does what it takes, just like in Annette's detective novels, and at the same time who rails against oversight bodies like Internal Affairs/'the rat squad' because due process slows down the immediate satisfaction of Swift Justice, despite Internal Affairs existing to protect the citizens from overreach on behalf of the police. "Wanton brutality" from police in their real world is a cold bitter reality but Dick Mullen was "made to crack skulls," "bend the rules and solve cases no one else can," and which version of that story is more comforting to the overworked, underfunded officers of the RCM?

The level of fantasy and detachment required for the cops to still see themselves as the good guys after everything that they do in the line of duty mimics The Pigs and her breakdown too; she parallels Harry so clearly. Both "did right by the kids" in the past, hoping for a better future- Marianne (The Pigs) by looking out for Titus and the Hardy boys when they were young, Harry in his role as a gym teacher. Both abandoned and left behind by the system that the RCM uphold- a brutal capitalist landscape with no safety nets. Both turning the source of their trauma into a costume, a performance, a shield, shaped by "radio waves and cop shows." The Pigs uses RCM items scavenged from the Esperance where they'd been thrown away, while Harry uses the Dick Mullen hat that Annette gives him but both are essentially in costume.

Harry identifies himself with the fictional detective as a kind of wish fulfilment; Dick Mullen is "wicked smart." He doesn't fuck up his cases and when he's sad it's not pathetic; it's effortlessly cool brooding and everyone sympathises. Everyone loves him. His violence- "skull crack[ing]"- is justified because he's a "good guy" enacting that violence against the victims of police brutality sorry "bad guys". He doesn't ever face repercussions; "Dick Mullen won't be sent to the clink for the sake of some legal niceties!" So if Harry is Dick Mullen then his failures, his breakdown, they're all just a part of being a "bad-ass, on-the-edge disco cop." He's not wrong, he's a hero! This idealised fictionalised idea of the police force, this "new, sadly better, reality" that both Harry and The Pigs cling to is "escapist stuff," "receed[ing] into a ludicrous fantasy world," so far removed from the brutal material reality that they're in.

My point is, idk. Disco Elysium is so far from being copaganda. It is a multi-million word long dissection of it, of the purpose of policing, of state sanctioned violence and its interaction with capital and the fallout experienced within the wider community as well as the trauma cycle created for individual officers. A dissection of how copaganda interacts with RCM culture and perception, and by extension how we interact with irl perceptions of police through that lens.

[toytulini]

listen im ace and im pro kink at pride and whatever, but the way some of yall are wording your posts in response to the backlash against it is uh. really taking me back to the ace shitcourse era.

yall know theres nothing wrong with being a "virgin", right? that its not inherently shameful to have not had sex, to never have sex, even if youre not ace, even if you do want to have sex someday, like, its fine that you haven't had sex?

maybe if your problem is that theyre trying to police your behavior and shame you for expressing your sexuality, you can say that? instead of resorting to "haha stupid virgin gets no bitches" like my god. do you not hear how fucking regressive that attitude is? i know, i know, youre "joking".

get a better joke

[habken]

it’s all done yippeeee

[luck-of-the-drawings]

EDYN TIDESTRIDER, CHALLENGER OF THE UNDERSEA, RIVAL OF THE DEEP. WHAT WOULD YOU DO IF YOUR BROTHER WAS CHOSEN TO BE A WEAPON OF THE GODS? HOW WILL YOU UNDO WHAT THEY HAVE DONE TO HIM?

[judasisgayriot]

the one or two people one person

[brainrot-jikan]

im not the biggest alhaitham/kaveh shipper (because im a rare pair ho) but it seems to me that in alhaitham/kaveh getting-together fics tend to be... unequal.

the beautiful thing about alhaitham and kaveh is that they're both equally right and equally wrong and equally dicks about it. but the writers for alhaitham/kaveh much more frequently seem to give alhaitham the burden change (the burden of the character flaw) instead of kaveh.

in any good character arc, the main character has a fatal flaw or misconception, and by the end of that arc they have addressed that flaw in some definitive way. scrooge was a scrooge and learned that being that way was detrimental; merlin from finding nemo was overprotective to a fault and had to learn that he couldn't (and shouldn't) control everything and to let go; the wolf from little red riding hood learns that you should stop while you're ahead.

stories centering around romance tend to lean heavily on character arcs, which makes sense. and since romance generally requires two individuals to be vulnerable and open and emotional with each other, it makes double sense that alhaitham/kaveh authors zoom straight into alhaitham's lack of emotional vulnerability.

this bothers me.

in society, individuals are expected to experience and present emotions in a specific way. if someone dies, you cry. if someone smiles at you, you smile back. if you're at a party, you're supposed to be having fun. if you don't do these things, you're seen as impolite at best and a inhuman freak at worst. when these behaviors are frequent it's often viewed as emotional immaturity, or a lack of ability to feel at all. the inability or lack of willingness to conform to societies emotional expectations of you is seen as a flaw and a reason for exclusion.

alhaitham is canonically disliked and avoided for being the way he is. he prefers it this way, but that doesn't mean the people perpetuating this avoidance are in the right. they are the societal pressure to conform that alhaitham blows off. alhaitham could be the way he is for a lot of reasons: avoidant attachment style, trauma, following someone else's example (eg. his grandmother), or just his base personality. it doesn't MATTER. he is the way he is. kaveh having to accept that should be part of the story.

putting the burden of the fatal flaw on alhaitham, making the way alhaitham treats kaveh and the people around him the problem, feels invalidating. it implies heavily that alhaitham's way of interfacing with the world, alhaitham's very SELF, is incorrect. my suggestion is to flip a larger portion of that burden onto kaveh. kaveh 👏 character 👏 arcs 👏

some examples/recommendations:

- make kaveh project his insecurities onto other people but especially onto alhaitham; he's overly reliant on other people for his own self worth, and he perceives alhaitham's lack of positive feedback as a direct reflection of how alhaitham feels about him. but learns along the way that alhaitham doesn't hate him, kaveh's actual struggle is with hating himself and being unable to his own self as worthy of love. maybe throw in how you are responsible for your own recovery, other people can help but you can't rely on them to carry you through self actualization.

- or, kaveh tries to make alhaitham behave more like a "normal" person, to be more pleasant and emotive and forthcoming, and then realizes he's in the wrong for trying to make alhaitham into something he's not, possibly for all the wrong reasons (not because he likes alhaitham better like that, but bc society says that's healthier and a better/more conforming way to be)

- or you could go ahead make alhaitham's issues the main problem but they're too complicated to overcome in a short period of time, so kaveh has to accept alhaitham is doing his best in his own way and not push for unrealistic and unhealthy changes. he could alter his own behavior to give alhaitham space and time and a safe place to land.

that got sappy so it's past time for me to dip out. go forth and ship things; but maybe consider letting alhaitham be a rude stone-faced bastard if he wants to be.

[speakofcompersion]

Still Shining - Taemin

[hippolotamus]

Inspiration Saturday/Several Sentence Sunday

It’s still Saturday somewhere right??? For the fabulous @daffi-990 who conspired to bring this idea about. And also because I’ve maybe been torturing her hinting I’ve had a surprise for the last several days…

The Players:

Robert “Bobby” Nash - Asset Management (officially). Unofficially, a former banker who got tied up in a bad investment, causing him and dozens of others to lose everything. Bobby more than most. He’s a recovering alcoholic on a mission to steal from the rich and corrupt, and give back to their victims.

Athena Grant - LAPD sergeant who’s had her eye on Bobby for years, unable to catch a break in the case. He may be good at covering his tracks but she’s better. And Sgt Grant always gets her man.

Evan “Buck” Buckley - Associate. A young kid who steals for the thrill, but also to payoff his brother-in-law to ensure Maddie’s safety. Buck eventually winds up in Bobby’s company, sticking to his own agenda. Until the day that Doug’s asking price becomes too high and Buck finds himself needing a much bigger mark. Someone like…

Edmundo “Eddie” Diaz - war vet with a silver star and LA’s most eligible bachelor, who also happens to be pretty as sin. Oh, and has more money than god.

The Gig

Team up with Bobby to get the money Buck needs to save his sister, and hopefully get rid of Doug for good. Also, not allowing aesthetics to distract him from all the zeros in Diaz’s accounts. A target like this guy isn’t going to miss the amount Buck needs. Besides, it’s for a good cause. He’ll be in and out before anyone notices anything’s amiss.

What could possibly go wrong?

np tagging @actuallyitsellie @epicbuddieficrecs @loveyouanyway @a-noble-dragon @tizniz @diazheartsbuckley @saybiwithme mi amor @bidisasterevankinard @spotsandsocks @dangerpronebuddie @theotherbuckley @stereopticons @kitteneddiediaz @diazsdimples @your-catfish-friend @thekristen999 @filet-o-feelings loml @lizzie-bennetdarcy @wikiangela @steadfastsaturnsrings @rewritetheending

@jesuisici33 @rmd-writes @dr-shortsighted-owl @dorkydiaz @bi-buckrights @elvensorceress @bucksbiawakening @giddyupbuck @beyourownanchor6 @indestructibleheart @ladydorian05 @eowon @lemonzestywrites @monsterrae1 @statueinthestone @slightlyobsessedwitheverything @the-likesofus @thewolvesof1998 @watchyourbuck @welcometololaland @wildlife4life

and anyone else who wants to 😘

[puppyeared]

Once upon a time

[ezrisdax-archive]

it is still never you

[adrinktostopyourthirst]

So if you're into it and feel like adding it I wouldn't be mad at some 'thigh riding'? I love when you do Bucky + overstimulation 😵‍💫

It has been a long time coming and I, too, enjoy the thought of a bit of thigh riding. So I have this and, well, this:

Bucky frowns and bites back a smile when he feels it again. You can’t see him, perched on his lap with your head slanted on his chest and watching the television, but Bucky can tell you’re not really watching the screen. Because whatever you are watching isn’t nearly raunchy enough to have Bucky feel that pulse between your legs intensify through his sweatpants.

So he’s testing his theory and slightly adjusts himself below you, ‘coincidentally’ bobbing up his thigh between your legs so it adds a bit more pressure. And if Bucky didn’t hear the hitch of your breath, the clenching of your cunt gave you away instantly. Not to mention, the way your entire body goes rigid as if to restrain yourself.

Bucky nudges his nose into your hair, smiling at the scent of your shampoo, so his mouth aligns with your ear. “Something on your mind, baby?”

His low and deep voice sends a shudder down your spine and– God, you want to clutch onto him tightly and have his chest absorb your body. His muscular thigh has been nudging your clit for over half an hour now and you cannot bring yourself to ask him for anything. Your stubbornness stemmed from two things: you see, Bucky was awfully smug about how needy you were the night before and you can’t possibly give him more fuel, even if it leads to him giving you exactly what you need; and there was the thrill of teasing yourself on his thigh and keeping it from him during such a mundane activity as watching TV.

You swallow hard, “No, just lost in thought.”

Thoughts of him. His wide hands digging in your soft flesh, his perfectly shaped mouth finding your skin and whispering dirty things over it, his voice driving you to the brink of insanity, his cock–

“What are you thinking of?” he asks and slides those wide hands over your ass and up your waist. It’s a loving stroke to most people, but you know Bucky better. This is how he easily manhandles you. Yet for now, gentle and firm strokes glide along your waist, warming your cheeks.

“Can’t recall,” you mutter and close your eyes, desperate to shuffle into a more comfortable position. Comfortable being to grind over his thigh.

“Hmm,” he hums casually and tightens his grip a little. “Your thoughts seem interesting though, considering you’re soaking through your underwear right now.”

You snap your head up to meet Bucky’s amusement, written all over his face. His hands give you a squeeze and to allow yourself some relief, you scoot closer and shuffle comfortably on his thigh, throbbing over him.

“I’m not wet,” you almost grumble and he quirks a brow at you.

“Sweetheart,” he coos at you, his tone nearly sympathetic, “it’s throbbing and scorching hot. You’re burning through my thigh.”

Fuck, it is truly hot when he notices all the little tells of your body. It doesn’t help that he never has any trouble naming the blatant need your body is in, no matter the embarrassment it causes for you. Always having the upper hand, that one.

You huff, “You are full of yourself.”

He smirks and you can feel his remark coming, “Wanna be full of me, too?”

You move to slap his chest, but Bucky bumps his thigh up just right and you freeze, a gasp hitching your chest. The throbbing between your legs intensifies and you want to whine at the neediness clawing to the surface. You want to grind down onto him so badly.

His nose bumps with yours, his lips brushing over your mouth as he speaks, “Seriously, baby. You wanna be full of me? Want me to help you out a little?”

You know better than to think Bucky will give it to you just like that, and his grip on your waist tightens in a way that leaves all the control to him. You want to say yes, your body is screaming it at you, but it is muffled by pride. He watches you hesitate and one hand slides down to your ass, only for him to guide your body to grind down onto him.

A whine sounds from the back of your throat and your eyes flutter. Dammit. Damn him.

“Hmm,” Bucky hums again and the sound alone has you melting, “feels good, doesn’t it?” He grinds you over him again and nips at your mouth. Something changes and he grunts, “Feels good.” A statement. “You feel fucking good. So warm.”

You suck in another breath and start moving, slowly grinding your scorching core over his muscular thigh. Your breathing turns heavy and you press your forehead to Bucky’s, letting out the softest of moans when he rolls over your clit just right. And Bucky’s grip tightens almost painfully at the sound, pressing you down harder, as if your pleasure is directly tethered to his.

You feel him grow against you and move faster, the throbbing between your legs aching as you seek that pleasure. Every step closer to your relief, you feel like it is further away. Like you haul yourself backward, trying to move to your release. It becomes less bearable the closer you get and your hips stutter at the unwavering need between your legs. You feel yourself soaking, you even heard it as you moved – heard Bucky’s groan at the sound, too – and you whimper against his lips, exchanging air with him as he watches you move over him wantonly.

“Buck,” you cry softly and he nods.

“I know, you’re almost there,” he breathes and encourages you to keep moving with his hands.

You burst with energy at the need to come and you wring yourself from him enough to lift your leg over both his thighs, straddling him fully and letting out an ungodly moan when your clit connects with his throbbing hard on.

One of Bucky’s hands aggressively grabs onto your hair as he gasps for oxygen, gripping onto you with all of his strength, “Goddammit, sweetheart. You’re trying to kill me, huh?”

You laugh softly and breathlessly, grinding down on him slowly, “Please.”

Bucky loses his restraint entirely then and presses his lips to yours in a needy kiss, mumbling messily against your mouth, “Move those panties aside, baby.” One hand fumbles desperately between you two as he grunts through gritted teeth, “Let me slide in. Come on.”

[diaconicon]

Could you write a connor stoll x daughter of Athena reader. Where connor watches the reader and another person do romantic kareoke and he gets jelous because he think the reader likes that person.

⬆️This was an anonymous ask, which I unfortunately lost because I accidently deleted it😭 I'm so sorry to whoever requested this, I hope you still find it in some way!

All my Loving

connor stoll x daughterofathena! reader

Summary: basically what the request says, made it a bit christmassy because its in less than a week (2 days now), and i miss the spirit

Warnings: none (I think), probs ooc everyone. We're just gonna ignore the fact that the Camp has the barrier that stops it from raining inside okay? I kind of forgot don't hate me love you guys xoxo. English isn't my first language, so there could be some errors

22nd of December. It was almost Christmas, and Camp Half-Blood was in a fuss between Christmas decorations, some of the campers packing to go back to their families the day after for the Holiday, and the preparations for the 24th and 25th for the other campers who would stay, everyone had something to do and somewhere to be, not leaving a lot of free time to wish everyone goodbye and a Merry Christmas.

Here came the Hermes Cabin, as always, to 'save the day' - as said by its residents. They decided to host a karaoke night on the 22nd as a sort of pre-Christmas celebration, so everyone could also enjoy it with their friends who would go away the next day.

Of course, everyone was invited - although it was still a mystery how the Hermes Cabin was always capable of pulling out all these big parties without getting in trouble - but you were still debating on whether to go or not, not being the most social type, and definitely not very inclined to be singing, but after contemplating for some minutes, you decided to cave in and go. Most of your half-brothers and sisters wouldn't be there, but, after all, Connor did ask you personally to come, saying that 'you would really do him a favour' because 'everyone was just so boring and no fun to be around', and you just couldn't say no to him, you were, besides, quite fond of both him and his brother and it would be rude to just not go.

I mean, you wouldn't have to sing anyways if you didn't want to, right? You could just go, have fun with your friends, have a few drinks, watch other people sing and, most importantly, spend a bit of time with Connor before you went back home to your family for the holiday's.

Well, you were wrong. Almost everything was going perfectly. You arrived at the cabin, said hello to some of your friends, poured yourself a drink, and then, as planned, you went to search for Connor, who you found in a corner next to his brother, who scattered away (not without tripping at least a few times) almost immediately after greeting you with a quick "Oh hello there, how are you? Everything okay? Hope you're enjoying yourself. Oh, just a minute, will you? I think someone's calling me - and then turning to his brother - catch you later, Con."

And that left just you and Connor alone, in an awkward silence. Although you were usually so talkative with him, it really wasn't so hard to open up when he was around. He always let you feel so comfortable without even trying, you guessed it was in his demeanour, the way he walked, the way he acted, you didn't know exactly, but he definitely wasn't much of an awkward person as you were, quite confident of himself, but quieter than his brother, calmer, which made him more likable in your opinion. He was fun to be around, very animated, but when needed, he could also be very sensible and almost a shoulder to cry on. He was just so.. warm, almost like the sun, or an oven! You weren't sure how to put it, but he did really remind you of freshly baked cookies, who were still warm ones out of the oven, but that you had to wait for to cool down before eating, otherwise it would be 'bad' for your stomach (at least according to your dad).

But maybe it was something in the air that night, the music was really loud and you already could barely hear yourself over the others singing, maybe it was Travis' abrupt disappearance, but neither of you said a word, not even a 'hello' or a 'how are you?' After some seconds, what must have felt like minutes, you decided to be the first one to break the silence, then you saw that he too wanted to say something, and opting to let him take the word instead, you leaned in to hear him better. But just then, some of your other friends called you, wanting you to come sing with them and even after making it pretty clear that you had no intention whatsoever of participating, they still dragged you out to the karaoke section, pretty much forcing you to sing at this point. Maybe you were exaggerating - well, you were definitely exaggerating - but at that moment, it felt like being processed to death, tragically waiting for a guillotine to cut your head off.

You didn't know how it happened, but you ended up having to sing a duet with some Apollo boy you didn't even know well, although quite cute in your opinion, you couldn't even seem to recall his name.

Not quite as bad as you thought it would be, the song went by really fast, and you could even say you had fun. After chatting a bit with the Apollo kid, finally remembering his name, and him suggesting to spend more time together once in a while, having enjoyed himself, you bid goodbye and immediately went back to find Connor, still a bit embarrassed by the public scene, which you still wished to have avoided.

Though, not being able to find Connor anywhere, you decided to ask his brother if he had seen him.

"Connor? I think I saw him going outside just a few minutes ago. If you see him, tell him to come inside quickly, will you? It's like freezing out there, and I don't even think he took his coat with him"

You thanked Travis, grabbed Connor's coat, which he left in the cabin (by demand of his older brother), and went outside as well, hoping to catch up with the latter, wherever he went to.

Travis was right. It was indeed freezing, and in the time you spent in the Hermes Cabin, it also had begun to snow. Realising this, your heart couldn't help but to warm up a little. You absolutely loved snow, especially in this time of the year, only adding more to the Christmas spirit already strong around the Camp.

You eventually found Connor after a while near the beach, the sand now mixing with the snow that was falling, secretly thanking the Gods that he didn't go into the forest or it would've been probably impossible to find him.

He was sitting on a random trench, with his back to you, looking out in the distance, to the stars or the sea you didn't know which, still not having noticed your presence behind him.

So, you carefully went up to him, anxious of approaching, like reaching out for a baby deer who would otherwise get scared if you were too loud. Not only that, but you were also anxious about what to say. He looked upset, and you didn't know why. For how much you tried, you just couldn't think of what could've made him so distressed. Was it something you said? Well, you didn't exactly say anything... was that it? Did he expect you to have said something? Had he wanted to tell you something before you were dragged away by your friends? Maybe it was just the change in the weather that affected him so much. It was always pretty warm at Camp anyway. Maybe it was something that had been going on all day, and you just didn't know. You only first saw him this evening, and he already looked pretty off.

Whatever it could've been, you decided to just go and rip the band-aid off. You would've to ask him directly what was wrong, so you could try and help and comfort him.

You were now not even a few steps behind him, but he was still oblivious of you being there (sometimes you asked yourself how he was still alive with how bad his hearing and reflexes were), so you extended your hand towards him, the one with which you were holding his coat, and poked him on his shoulder, finally capturing his attention.

'Here, put it on, your brother is going to kill us both if you don't', you said, referring to the jacket, trying to relieve some of the tension around the air.

He didn't protest and grabbed the jacket, but he still didn't say anything and turned away immediately, his face impassable.

You set next to him, and for a while, just looked at him, not saying anything. Anxiety filled your stomach up to the point you thought you were going to feel sick. He didn't look only upset anymore but actually mad. Angry. And you were so scared it had to do with something you did. In the fraction of time you used to contemplate on what to say and how to start the conversation you were clearly about to have, he beat you to it and started first.

'Well, thanks for the coat. You can go back now if you'd like', he said, irritated, not once looking at your direction but keeping his eyes fixed on a vanishing point which you still couldn't figure out.

'Is something wrong? You know if something happened you can just tell me, I'm here to help you you know. Just.. please, I don't like to see you like this. You know if it's something I did, I'm sorry, I didn't realise. But just tell me, okay? I'm so sorry if I hurt you in any way.' You were desperate at this point, just hoping this would end soon. You'd never seen Connor this upset, and it quite frankly scared you a bit.

But just then, his gaze softened. He just couldn't stay mad at you, not like this, not seeing how much stress this caused you. He wasn't even mad at you. He could never be mad at you, not even if his life depended on it, he thought.

'No, I'm sorry, okay. Really. Just forget about it, I'm overreacting. It's nothing'. Although his voice was sincere, he felt like he needed to say more than that, much more, if he wanted to make it better. 'Look.. it's just that.. well. Just give me a moment, will you? I need to think of how to say this right.' It was now his turn to feel anxious, and he started picking at everything he could find to keep calm. His nails, the wood on the trench you two were sitting on, the zipper of his jacket, and so on.

You weren't doing much better, shaking your legs up and down, picking at the skin of your lips, and basically dying of anxiety. If you were exaggerating before, now you definitely weren't. You would've preferred the guillotine over this at any moment.

'Yes, of course, take all the time that you need. I'm here for you.'

And after that, it fell silent. The only sound you could hear were the waves of the sea and the snow falling on the both of you, and in the distance, a bit of the long forgotten party going on in the Hermes Cabin. You were now only waiting for Connor to start speaking. You wanted to say patiently, but it was eating you up inside.

A few minutes went by, and you couldn't take it anymore. You were about to say something before he beat you to it again.

'Okay, so this isn't going to be easy to say, but I want you to listen to me until I'm done. Please. I know I'm not the best speaker in the world, and I really did want to make this more worthy of you, more meaningful, but I'm probably gonna mess things up, so I'm sorry in advance, but just try and listen, okay?' He began, carefully, and you just nodded, following his instruction and waiting for him to continue.

'Okay so, well, I thought this was honestly kind of obvious already - he said this with a smile - but I really like you, and I mean really, since at least a few years I think already. And seeing you with that Apollo kid, I don't know it just made me mad, I thought I couldn't stand a chance against someone like that, so much more talented and what not than me. And not only him, I mean everyone. You're just so perfect in every sense, and I know you could do so much better than me, so I got a bit self-conscious, but that's it. I'm so sorry for worrying you. It really wasn't my intention to be such a dick, but my emotions got the better of me.'

You were left speechless. You really didn't know what to say. Not even a sound could come out of your mouth at that point. Luckily, it didn't have to because Connor went on before you could even think of anything to say.

'No, wait, don't say anything yet. I'm not finished. I want to say it better. This is definitely not how I imagined this. You know I made up so many speeches in my head, practising on what I would tell you if ever came the right moment. But I forgot all of them now, so I'll just have to figure something out,

'I am every second more infatuated by your presence, by your kindness, your beauty. You leave me without breath every time that I see you, and every time, just a bit more than the day before. Every time I look up at the stars, I'm reminded of you, perplexed on how the Gods didn't take you as the inspiration of such creations. Every time I look up at the moon, I can't think of anything else other than how your beauty surpasses even hers, how the reflection of the moonlight on the water isn't just an allegory of you. Because it's something so beautiful that you just can't take your eyes off it. How honey isn't scraped directly from your voice because it's even more sweet and warm than a cup of tea. You fill me with joy of which I've never experienced before, which I didn't even know was real. I'm at every second more and more confused on how all of nature doesn't revolve around you, on how it wasn't created for you and because of you, for at every thing I look at I am every constant reminded of you. If I ever was to meet Aphrodite, I know she would take your appearance and, although I can't dare say you are more beautiful than her or you know what would happen, I can say that in this world and all the universe you are one of the Gods' most beautiful creations. That if it weren't for Prometheus, I would steal the fire just for you, and you only, to keep you warm from days like this one. To keep you warm like you do constantly to me, by just your mere presence, by just an insignificant conversation you could have with me, which I hold dear forever and never forget. What I'm trying to say is that I don't only like you, no... no. I would hold up the sky full of stars and galaxies for you, I would go up to the moon to retrieve your lost items for you, even just to see your smile, to see you happy, to know that you are content. For you have already stolen my soul and hold my heart, I couldn't sell it to the devil, but I would, just to let him promise me to always keep you safe, that nothing could ever touch or hurt you. For you only I think and plan, for you only I ever want to live on. I love you, I really do, and I only hope for you to love me back at your own pace and time. But I could never force you to do anything. If you don't reciprocate my feelings, let's forget about this. Just go on with our daily lives. A simple no, or just a shake of your head, will silence me forever, I won't ever bother you again, I promise. But if there's even just one chance, a little bit of hope that you could give me a try, please don't let me wait for too long. Because how I am to take even one second longer of this I do not know.'

And with this, he stopped talking. He went completely mute, now only waiting for your answer, for a little hope.

But you didn't know what to say, how could after such a speech, such a confession? Anything you would say, even if meaningful, would never compete to something such beautiful and utterly captivating as this.

So you opted for saying exactly that.

'Connor.. I.. I'm really speechless, I don't know what to say, no, everything I would say could never compete with what you just did. I'm so sorry, but I really don't know how to own up to that.' You said with the biggest smile you ever had, which started growing since Connor began to speak.

'No, don't worry about that, just tell me, please. A yes or a no would be sufficient enough.' The poor boy was so stressed, but you couldn't help but laugh. It wasn't you mocking him or anything like that. It was a genuinely happy laugh, like you've never had before. He also started laughing at this, being influenced by you.

'Stop laughing, I'm serious. You're making me sweat cold here.' He said, finally lighting up from his serious stance.

'I'm so sorry, but I just really can't see how you could've become this worked up only because I was singing Last Christmas with some guy. Like, really, from all the songs Last Christmas, that's not even classifiable as a real love song.' At this point, you just couldn't stop laughing, completely captivated, almost not being able to breathe anymore.

'Hey! That's not true. It's one of the greatest love songs ever written. And I'm honestly quite offended you didn't sing it with me, okay. You know how much I love Wham!' Saying this, he also kicked your leg playfully. Finally, the mood was completely lightened up. Now, the interaction being like one of the many you had every day.

'Okay, now on a serious note', you began, and you could see Connor tensing up again, 'yes. And a million times, yes. I really like you, Connor, and I've had probably since I came to this camp. I could even say that I love you too.. but maybe for that, I do need a bit of time. But I do want to give it a try, and more than one if need to. Just don't make anything like that up anymore. Otherwise, I'd just look like a bad girlfriend, okay? I can't even come up with a good speech to convince my dad to let me adopt a cat, even think of confessing my undying love for you. I just think I need a little bit more time than you, but I'll get there eventually, I promise. Just wait until you'll get a Jane Austen type letter under your pillow.' You finally said, as sincere as you could. You were truly so happy, and you think you've never been this happy ever in your life (at least not until your dad would finally cave in and let you get a cat).

Connor, too, was happy. Oh, so happy, he thought he could break out in some type of dance right there and walk up to the sky to get a handful of stars to gift to you. But that was impossible, so he opted to wrap an arm around you and let you rest your head on his shoulder.

And like that, you stayed for a while, just you two together under the snow looking up at the stars and into the horizon.

'Don't worry, if we ever move in together, we're gonna adopt not one cat, but at least twenty, be sure of that.' He said.

Okayy this is it! I really hope you like this. omg, it came out so much longer than I was expecting. Also im so sorry it took so long to write but I was really busy with school! Also im honestly very happy about the ending. Hope you guys like it!

[moonkhao]

hi.

[didhewinkback]

love of my life

a something old one shot about wembley week.

word count: 4k somehow ?, there's smut

---

2014

He collapses into the backseat of the car, clenching his eyes shut as another cough wracks through his body, trying in vain to take deep breaths through his stuffy nose, feeling so frustrated he could scream if not for the hoarseness in his throat. He had dreamt of this night since he was a little kid, never thinking it would ever actually happen and then when it finally did he didn’t even get to enjoy it properly, didn’t get a chance to celebrate that his years of hard work, resilience and sacrifice had actually paid off. 

Instead he had to spend every minute on that stage trying to stay upright, his fever addled brain working overtime to remember lyrics, stand at the right spot, gasp for breath between a congested nose and a never ending rotation of cough drops. 

Once the tears start they don’t stop, feeling so pathetic and angry and heartbroken, all he can do is curl in on himself and wish his mum were with him. Why couldn’t he have been this ill in Madrid? Or Kansas City? Or Perth? Why did it have to be fucking Wembley? 

His phone buzzes in his hand, disrupting his never ending train of miserable thoughts. It’s you, checking in. He was supposed to go out with you and Johnny after the show, supposed to celebrate the biggest night of his career. He can’t believe you guys came out to see him on stage like that, a wave of embarrassment rolling through him as he imagines what you must think. 

He starts rapid fire texting you back, apologizing for the show, apologizing for leaving early and missing the afterparty, just apologizing. He’s not even sure what he’s saying at this point, just knows that he is sorry and embarrassed and wants to be home alone in his bed. You’re trying to keep up with his texts, trying your best to assure him that he has nothing to be sorry about, that it was still a good show, that you’re sorry for him, that’s not his fault he’s been overworked and was too sick to perform, asking if there’s anything you can do. Offering company if he needs someone to talk to because he’s right, it’s fucked that this was the show he had to be ill for, that he didn’t deserve to have it happen this way. 

And he knows he should talk it out, knows there’s few things that make him feel better than having you as a sounding board but right now he feels so shit and just wants to stop thinking about it. He apologizes again and turns his phone off, leaning his burning head against the cool window. He knows he’s wallowing, he knows he’s so lucky to be doing even a fraction of what he has done it’s just …

It was headlining Wembley fucking Stadium. When will he ever get the chance to do something like that again?

2023

The screams of the crowd start to fade into the background as he sprints backstage, handing his mic pack over to Steve from sound and leaning in to mutter a request to Paddy before ducking into his dressing room, leaning against the door once it’s closed. Trying to catch his breath from the sprint, from this night, from this week. He shakes off the rain and closes his eyes, doing his damndest to commit every feeling flashing through him to memory, trying to relive each moment on stage that took his breath away, to think about in the years to come. Knowing he’ll never be this young on tour again, never this limber, never be with this exact group of people at this exact time ever again. 

It was the best night of his entire life. 

It hasn’t felt like that before. The love radiating towards him was palpable, he could feel it in the air, and he did everything to send it right back out. It was almost too much for one person to hold, he had no choice but to try to put it directly towards the people who helped get him here, shouting out his friends and family in the audience more than he ever has because he owes them everything and he wanted to share this feeling with them.

It was overwhelming, it was exhilarating and it was fun. It’s never been that fun. Gratitude flows through him as tears prick his eyes, his breath catching in his throat. How lucky he is to get to do this for a job, how lucky that this many people want to see his show, how lucky that he’s got this band and this crew working alongside him. How lucky, how lucky, how lucky. 

He stands there for several minutes, taking deep breaths, reliving the best parts of the show, how it felt to sing Gemma’s song to her, to get to thank the friends that took him in when he was young and alone in a big city for the first time, to get to thank the friends that loved him from the start, before he grew into the man who would perform in front of 90,000 people four nights in a row. He’s practically choking on the emotion now, feeling more alive than he’s ever felt, the happiest he’s ever been, just grateful for this moment and this life when a series of knocks snaps him out of his haze. 

“I’ve been summoned,” he hears you say on the other side of the door and if he could grin any wider, his face would split in half. 

He swings open the door and there you are. The rain did nothing to dampen how beautiful you look tonight, wearing one of his favorite sundresses of yours, your eyes as red-rimmed with tears as he imagines his are. You take him in for a moment, your hand coming up to cover your mouth as your breath catches and you shake your head in disbelief, seemingly as shocked and stunned by the night as he is. 

“That was…” you start to say but drift off, emotion clogging the words in your throat as you just stare at him.

“I know.” 

“Just like…what the fuck?” you say and it shocks a laugh out of him, his head tilting back and shoulders shaking. He watches the smile grow on your face and that’s when you launch yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and holding tight. He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you close, lifting you slightly off the ground as he pulls you into the room and kicks the door shut behind you. 

“‘M sweaty,” he warns and it just makes you tighten your arms around him more. 

“Don’t care,” you say softly. “I’m so, so proud of you.” 

And suddenly, he’s at a loss for words again. Not able to think about anything but how you feel in his arms, your steady heartbeat tethering him to the moment, the praise you’re murmuring in his ears making him feel warm all the way down to his toes. He’s overwhelmed at the thought of how much this week has felt like coming home, finally. Like the biggest, warmest welcome back to a place he has had to leave more often than he would ever like to. He felt it monumentally, magnanimously on stage and now he feels it here, on a much smaller scale, in the way your nails feel scratching against his scalp, the fabric of your damp dress against the bare skin of his chest, the sound of your voice in his ear. 

“It’s never felt like that before. Watching you.” you say, pulling your head back to look at him, warm eyes full of affection and it almost makes him preen.  He just had 90,000 pairs of eyes on him but being the center of your attention is what makes his heart skip a beat. 

“Was unreal, wasn’t it?” he says, skin warming under your gaze, knowing the words are wholly inadequate to sum up how this night has felt but selfishly wanting you to keep talking about it, not ready for the show to become a distant memory quite yet. 

“Don’t think I’ve ever seen you that happy up there. That free. Just like completely in your element.” you say, a smile growing on your face as you huff a sheepish laugh at yourself. “Think I started crying the second you walked out there and didn’t really stop. You’ve turned me into the weepy girlfriend and for that I will never forgive you.”  

He laughs, lowering you to the ground in favor of bringing his hands up to cup your face, thumbs rubbing over the tear tracks there as you slide your hands down his back to wrap around his waist.

“Liked the show, then?” he asks, and by the roll of your eyes, he knows you know what he’s doing and he knows you’ll indulge him all the same.

“I loved it,” you say sincerely, the love in your eyes making him feel weak in the knees. “I love you.”

He closes the distance between you without a second thought, doing his best to express himself through every drag of his lips against yours. This has never felt like this before either, to get to be with someone who loves and supports him the way you do. Who knows him so well, who has seen the good, bad and the ugly and instead of taking off and running, just loves him harder, louder, fiercer. Adrenaline spikes through his veins as he deepens the kiss, his tongue curling against yours in a way that makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. 

He walks you backward until you're pressed against the door and he’s pressed against you, not an inch of space between you. He pulls away from your mouth to kiss along your jaw and down your neck, paying special attention to the spots he’s become familiar with, the ones that make you sigh into his ear, a sound that replays in his mind over and over whenever he’s missing you late at night. 

He feels himself getting hard against your thigh, no longer thinking of anything but how you taste, how you smell, how you feel. He loves you, more than he’s ever loved another person, more than he ever thought himself capable of. The temporarily dormant energy from the stage comes flooding back and he knows he’s got a room full of people waiting upstairs to celebrate with him but right now, he just needs you close. He needs you now. 

“Did you want to keep talking about the show?” you ask, your breath catching in your throat and it makes his heart skip a beat, your familiarity with his favorite post show routine making him melt as he shakes his head, not willing to pause his ministrations against your skin. 

It’s one of the things he loves doing most when you’re on tour with him, spending time after the really good shows to dissect his favorite bits and hear all of yours, hear how much you loved it, loved him. He knows if he said that’s what he wants to do right now you’d happily pull away and indulge him with detailed answers about how the show felt from your point of view, your favorite note changes, the jokes that made you laugh the most but it’s not what he wants right now. All he wants is you. 

“If we had more time, I’d get on my knees for you.” he mumbles against your neck, tongue darting out to suck at your skin. 

“Funny, I was just going to say the same thing.” you say back, making him groan, his hands falling to your hips, pulling you close. “But the party started already -”

“Yeah but I am the boss,” he says, feeling high off this night, off you. “So the party really doesn’t start until I say so.”

“I hate how much you loved saying that,” you say with a laugh, your hands sliding over his chest. You dig your nails in when he bites down on your neck and he feels like he’s on fire.

“Think y’ liked it a little bit,” he says, pulling away from your neck to kiss you deeply, hand sliding down to squeeze your ass.

“Can feel myself drying up as we speak.” you say and he sputters out a laugh, giving you a cheeky spank when he feels you laughing against him. 

“That sounds like a bloody lie,” he mumbles against your mouth, his hand sliding from your ass to your thigh, hastily pulling up your dress, dragging his fingers across your skin once he has access to it. He pulls back slightly to look at your face, your swollen lips and blown out eyes. You’re the hottest thing he’s ever seen. He slides his fingers over your core, smirking when you gasp, feeling how wet you are through your underwear. “Feels like one too.”

“Told you.” you say, and you’ve got that look in your eyes that’s his kryptonite, looking at him like you’re going to eat him alive and it stokes the fire already burning in his belly. He doesn’t even have to hear the next words come out of your mouth, he knows he’s already done for. “I really liked the show.” 

He crashes his mouth to yours, pulling kiss after kiss from your plush lips, his hips rolling against yours when you moan into his mouth. He snaps the waistband on your underwear, doing his best to help you pull it off without straying too far from your lips, pulling you back into him once you kick it off your ankles. 

“Off. Take this off.” you mumble against his mouth, already pushing the straps of his dungarees down.

“Hang on, there’s a zipper -” He squeezes your thigh before reaching around the back of his dungarees, hastily unzipping to help you ease the trousers down his hips, pausing when you do, your hands stilling on his skin. He looks up at your face to find you staring at his cock, an unreadable expression on your face. 

“Are you - are you not wearing pants?” you ask breathlessly, a surprised laugh breaking through your words. 

“You did say I was freer than ever on that stage -” 

“Oh my god, I am not having sex with you anymore -”

“Heeey.” he says, unable to stop the smile growing on his face at the sound of your laugh. He smacks a kiss to your cheek as he pulls his dungarees all the way down, leaving them pooling at his ankles. It looks ridiculous but he’s too turned on to care, stomach flipping when you slide your hands on his skin, fingers dancing over his obliques, nails digging into his pecs. 

“Can’t believe you were freeballing at Wembley.” you say as he snorts, grabbing your thigh to hitch it over his hip, leaning in to capture your lips with his. 

You pull the hem of your dress up with one hand as you slide the other to the back of his neck, gripping hard when he swipes his fingers through your folds, lightly circling your clit. He’d do just about anything to make you moan into his mouth like that, fingers playing with you a little longer than necessary until you bite down on his lip in impatience. 

“Ready?” he mumbles against your mouth.

“Been ready since half past eight.” you shoot back as he huffs a laugh. “Need you.”

“Y’ have me, baby. Y’ have me.” he mutters nonsensically, quickly pulling his fingers away and using them to guide his cock against your core, both of you moaning at the sensation before he guides himself into you, choking on air when he thrusts all the way in. 

White hot heat sears through him and he has to clench his eyes shut, your warmth and wetness almost too much to bear. He could stay here forever he thinks, feeling you clench around him, moaning lowly in his ear. This is it for him. Until - 

“H. Move.” 

He opens his eyes, the look on your face taking his breath away as he starts to thrust into you, lips falling to any part of your skin he can reach. 

“Watching me on stage got y’ this wet?” he grunts out. “All this for me?”

“Always.” you breathe out, pulling him in closer. “You looked so good up there. You did so good. Made me so proud -”

“Baby -” he leans in to kiss you deeply, tongue messily swiping over yours as he grabs your thigh, adjusting the angle in a way that makes you both moan. 

He rests his forehead against yours, watching the way every thrust, drag and swivel of his hips hurdles you closer and closer to the edge, your eyes fluttering closed when he hits it just right. Everything else fades away and all that matters is the feeling of your tight, hot cunt, and those quiet sounds you can’t stop making. You slide your hand down his arm until it settles on his tattoo of your initial, pressing your thumb into the skin and he almost bursts on the spot. 

“That’s right, baby. ‘S all for you.” he moans out, biting down on your jaw when you clench around him. “‘M all yours. ‘M all yours. ‘M all yours.”

He slides his hands around your waist, sliding down to your ass as he grips and lifts you up, bringing your other thigh up to settle around his hips. You gasp against his mouth as he holds you up,  pressing you further into the door. 

“This okay?” he pants out.

“Yeah - please. H - I’m -” you lean in to kiss him as he starts to move again, the new angle making him glide across your clit in a way that has you biting down on his lips. 

“Baby, I’m -”

“Me too. Doing so good.” you say as he digs his fingers into your skin, his thrusts becoming more and more erratic, sparks shooting down his spine as he flies towards the edge. 

“Need you to come first. Can y’do that for me?” he grunts out, gritting his teeth to swivel his hips in the way he knows will get you there, watching the way your mouth drops open, blown out eyes never wavering from his. 

You lean in to nip at his bottom lip, one hand sliding up to rest at the base of his throat, the other sliding down to rub circles on your clit as he tightens his hold on you, arm muscles bulging as he gives it to you as best he can.  He picks up his pace and you lightly squeeze down on his throat as he moans, fire licking up his spine at the sensation. Everything’s warm, hot, wet.  All he can feel, smell, taste and touch is you. He doesn’t know how it can get any better than this, and then you squeeze down a little harder, leaning in to bite at his earlobe before whispering: 

“You’re the boss.” 

Jesus fuck.

That’s it. He can’t hold on any longer, a moan punching out of him as he comes hard, seeing stars as he grunts against your skin, feeling you follow suit quickly after, the way you clench around him as you come has him biting down on the skin of your neck, nails digging into your thigh. 

That was the hottest thing that’s ever happened to him, is still happening to him, he feels like he’s coming forever as his body shakes with aftershocks, tongue darting out to suck at the skin of your neck as you both try to catch your breath, chests heaving. 

After a few moments, he pulls back to look at you, eyes roaming over the blissed out look on your face as he leans in to kiss you softly, lips dragging against yours once, twice, three times before he feels you laugh, leaning back to look at you. 

“What?” he asks, begs more like, desperate to know what’s going on in your brain, always. It’s something he never had this much exclusive access to before and now that he has, he’s addicted. He plants a line of kiss across your face as you giggle, arms tightening around your waist. 

“You’re so easy,” you say, looking at him with mirth in your eyes. “All I had to do is say one little word and you just -”

“Heey,” he says, laughing when you do. “‘S not what happened.” 

The dubious look on your face makes him pause, he can feel warmth blooming on his cheeks as he shrugs. 

“‘M mean, it definitely helped.” he says, watching the way your tongue slides out to lick your lips, helpless to do anything but kiss you again before pulling back to mumble against your mouth: “I was done for the second you said watching me up there made y’ wet.”

“Liked that, did you?”

“Liked all of it.” he says, eyes never wavering from yours, still feeling the ghost of your hand on his neck right before he came. He kisses along your neck, nuzzling his head there and breathing deep. “Still inside you. Could go again. Just keep calling me the boss, I’ll be ready in no time.”

You laugh and shove his shoulder as he giggles, smacking a kiss to your cheek as he slowly pulls out, lowering you back to the ground on your own two feet. 

“I’m not going to be the reason you miss the chance to run around an empty stadium with all your mates. It’s your favorite bit.” 

There’s just something to that, something he’s never experienced before. You say it so nonchalantly, as you bend down to pick up your underwear off the floor, muttering about needing to find something to clean yourself off with and he just stands there, naked in the middle of his dressing room, his dungarees still at his ankles and all he wants to do is throw away all those plans he made and get down on one knee right here. 

He won’t do that, the ring isn’t ready yet and he’s already planned and replanned everything ten times over, he thinks with a shake of his head, kicking the dungarees all the way off and heading over to his bag, pulling on a pair of briefs and joggers as his mind whirls. 

It’s just - there is something to being known the way you know him, really know him, not in the way everyone out there thinks they do but it’s like - you understand him. You see him for who he is beyond the sold out stadiums and awards and screaming fans. You see who he is in the littlest of moments, the small habits he hadn’t really known he had but you’ve picked up on because you pay attention to him, because you love him. To be this known and this loved is something he’s never experienced before, a safety net he’s never had before. 

Everything in his life has been in a constant state of change, living a nomadic lifestyle since he was just a teenager but this week, these shows, these crowds, this city, have given him a sense of belonging he hadn’t known he was craving, hadn’t known he was missing. The fear that this could all go away in an instant, which he once thought was a permanent state of existence, of living, of being has become a small voice in the background.  

He’s not afraid of losing everything because he has you, he trusts you, he loves you and he knows you’re not going anywhere. And you - you are everything. 

He’s so lost in his own head he barely registers the sounds of the sink in the adjoining bathroom, barely hears you gripe “All the foundation in the world couldn’t cover these love bites so cheers for that”, barely feels your eyes on him as you make your way back into the dressing room. 

“Hey,” you say softly, stepping into his eyeline as you stand in front of him, hands coming up to his face, thumb wiping away the tears that had fallen unbeknownst to him. “You alright?” 

“Yeah,” he says, blinking back the tears as he smiles at you, taking a deep breath. “Just overwhelmed.”

“It’s been a big night. Big week.” you say and he nods, wrapping his arms around your waist as your hand finds its place in his hair, fingers running through the strands in his favorite pattern. “You deserve all of it. Every bit.” 

“Couldn’t have done this without you, you know.” 

“H -”

“‘M serious, just let me -”  he says, shaking his head, wanting to get the words right, knowing he won’t be able to express more than a fraction of what he means, what you mean. “Y’ make me feel like I can do anything because you love me. ‘Nd I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to explain to you properly how that makes me feel but I - I just really love you. I’ve never been loved the way you love me. ‘Nd I’ve never, ever loved anyone the way I love you.”

He watches as tears fill your eyes, the way you’re looking at him in awe, in love, it’s a look he wishes he could bottle up forever. You lean up to kiss him and he pulls you in closer, getting lost in the feeling of your lips against his, your hand in his hair, how he can feel your heartbeat racing. 

“I love you so much,” you say when you pull back slightly, “You’ll never -”

“I feel it, love. Promise I feel it. Promise I know.” he murmurs, pulling you in and kissing you again, just needing you as close as possible. 

“We have to get out of here and you have to put on a shirt,” you mumble in between kisses, “or we will never leave.” 

“Won’t see me complaining.”

“Everyone’s waiting to celebrate you,” you say, pulling back but he follows you, kissing along your jawline. “And we can continue our own celebration later, yeah? I’m not going anywhere. We’ve got time.” 

He pulls back at that, eyes grazing over your features before leaning in to kiss you again, humming into it, thinking he’s never heard anything sweeter in his life. 

You’re not going anywhere and you’ve got time. 

It’s so simple but it feels so right, he thinks as he releases his hold on your waist and quickly slips into his jacket, looking up at you to find your hand extended, waiting for his. He slips his hand into yours, interlocking your fingers and squeezing once. 

A rush of emotions washes over him. He feels everything, all at once from this night, this week, this year, this tour. And here you are, here you’ve been, holding onto his hand. Not going anywhere. He wants to tell you everything this means to him, wants to marry you yesterday, start a family, wants to do it all with you. But he’s got an empty stadium with his favorite people waiting for him, waiting to celebrate the greatest night of his career, of his life. And you’ll be next to him the whole time. 

It’s like you’ve said, you’ve got time.

---

taglist:@tobesolovelysstuff, @louyoursins, @daydreamingofmatilda, @jojo-blog53, @marzhshaim, @devilsqueen722, @just-happiness-only,@lomlhstyles, @feestyles, @spock4presidnet, @sunshinemoonsposts, @indierockgirrl, @jerseygirlinca, @kissitnhekitchen, @goldnrry,

[boopill]

happy belated valentines day quodo upon thee! originally posted on ao3 for the quodo minifest, this was my valentines for @chacusha, who organized the event! i had a ton of fun drawing them and im definitely looking forward to next year <333

+ bonus art based on the comic by Kate Beaton, Javert is in Slash Fiction: