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amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines · 3 years ago

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Maeve//i don't belong, and my beloved, neither do you

Request: Could you please do something else with Maeve? Perhaps something where reader works with Maeve on an English project and she's surprised that they have so much in common. She realizes she has feelings for her somehow after that? Sorry that's sort of rubbish, have a swell day/night.

hey! what’s up everybody! i hope everyone is well, and i hope you like this!! title is from ‘the lakes’ by taylor swift!

- English projects are never fun

- I mean, who finds constant stress and a deadline that’s always far too close fun?

- Nobody

- That’s who

- Well apart from Mrs Jones

- Your year 9 English teacher who made every minute of her classes a living hell

- And who mysteriously went missing half way through the year after having a screaming match with a fellow English teacher

- When she was supposed to be teaching you Romeo & Juliet.

- One day she was accusing Miss Newman of being a terrible teacher and purposefully bumping up students grades so she looked better

- And the next day both her and Miss Newman were gone

- And you only got a replacement teacher when you moved into year 10

- Right now though

- Its seems Miss Sands is going through some stuff

- Because not only did she give you an assignment on Friday with a deadline of Monday

- She also chose your partners instead of letting you choose your own

- Which is why you’re stood outside of Maeve’s in the pouring rain

- On a frankly miserable Saturday morning

- It seems the weather knew exactly what sort of weekend you were facing

- And decided to make it even worse.

- By the third knock

- You’re about to give up

- The curtains are still drawn

- And you’ve seen more movement in a graveyard

- Plus

- You kind of already assumed you would be doing the project alone

- Maeve Wiley was known for being very...

- ...independant

- And group projects are no different

- You actually think she may be more independent during group projects

- So as soon as Miss Sands paired you together

- You knew

- You were 99% sure that

- You’d do your thing

- She’d do hers

- And then five minutes before the presentation

- You would figure out a way to connect the two.

- Anywayyyy

- While daydreaming about a time when you won’t have any assignments

- And making awkward, accidental eye contact with Maeve’s neighbours

- The door in front of you opens

- Simultaneously giving you a fright and almost knocking you out

- She yawns and scratches the top of her head

- ‘what are you doing here?’

- She sounds both tired and annoyed and you blink at her a few times before answering

- ‘er - i - the project. for english.’

- It takes her a few seconds to process what you’ve said

- But when she does

- She looks even more miserable than she did five seconds ago

- And you brace yourself for a long weekend

- She sighs and rolls her eyes

- Before slowly opening the door properly and letting you in

- You feel slightly nervous as you walk in

- But you really have no idea why

- It’s not like she’s a complete stranger

- But then again

- She’s not exactly a friend

- ‘don’t worry, i’ve hidden the drugs. i don’t really like to share anyway.’

- ‘what?’ you ask confused and she rolls her eyes again

- She huffs and crosses her arms before nodding to the slightly messy living room

- ‘i get it. we’re a bunch of benefit fraud chavs that do nothing but drink and smoke all day.’

- ‘that’s not what i was thinkin-’

- ‘sure it wasn’t.’ she rolls her eyes and you stare down at the floor. ‘i need to get changed so make yourself at home I suppose.’

- She walks into what you assume is her bedroom and slams the door behind her

- Leaving you to stand awkwardly in the middle of the living room

- It’s small and slightly cramped

- And most people would say that all the stuff makes it look busy

- But to you

- It’s wonderful

- It’s filled with stories and memories

- Some self explanatory

- Some slightly more bizarre

- Like the wonky blue and yellow clay swan living on the coffee table

- You really want to know the story behind it

- But decide it might be a little early in your partnership to start asking about her attachment to a half swan, half moth looking ornament

- So instead you pick up a pile of books on the dining table and move them onto the floor

- You can hear Maeve opening and closing drawers while humming a familiar tune

- And you feel yourself relax slightly as you place your laptop and books where the books were previously sat

- Even if it does feel like you’re using all of your braincells to try and figure out where you’ve heard it before

- ‘wow, do you actually trust me around that?’

- ‘what?’ you stop humming and look up at her

- She looks between you and the laptop, staring at you expectantly

- ‘oh no. i mean of course i do.’ you blush and she shakes her head before sitting opposite you

- ‘so what do we know about women in fiction?’

- ‘historically they are written as either a femme fatalle type or some sort of innocent angelic being.’

- ‘they still are’

- ‘true’ you agree and flick through your textbook

- ‘why don’t we write about that then?’

- ‘what? how we’re still depressingly far back in the equality movement, despite being told otherwise?’

- She stares at you for a few seconds

- A mixture of shock and surprise

- Before nodding

- And smiling

- An actual genuine smile

- You didn’t even know she could do that

- Well you did

- Of course you did

- But you just haven’t seen it a lot

- Usually when you see Maeve

- She’s either mad, grumpy or very, very, very angry

- But her smiling

- Puts a smile on your face

- And this was definitely not where you thought this was going

- ‘yeah...that’

- ‘okay.’ you shrug. ‘you can do classic literature because i know you prefer them and i’ll cover modern works.’

- ‘how do you know i prefer classics?’

- ‘the pile of books’ you nod towards the floor and she follows your gaze, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. ‘they’re all ripped and folded. you either love them or really, really hate them’

- ‘okay’ she eyes you suspiciously as you focus on your laptop

- And you can feel your cheeks heat up under her gaze

- However as quickly as they were there

- They disappear

- And the two of you fall into a surprisingly comfortable silence.

- After about half an hour

- Maeve stops what she’s doing to stretch

- ‘is it okay if i play some music?’

- ‘sure, it’s your place. do what you want...as long as its not awful’

- ‘and what constitutes as awful?’ she asks, a smirk playing on her lips

- ‘well’

- And with that one question

- Your entire day disappears in front of you

- Laptops and books are closed and long forgotten

- And instead you talk about music and movies

- Books and plays

- Characters that you love and hate

- And the fact that her favourite character is the one you hate the most

- She makes you lunch while you debate between movies and books and which adaptations are good

- And which ones should never have been made

- And you clean up and apologise profusely after a stray cushion (possibly thrown by you) ends up knocking the pan over

- Surprisingly

- She finds it quite funny

- And you let out a relieved sigh

- Soon the sun goes down on another day

- And you’ve barely written two paragraphs done between you

- ‘do you want to stay?’ she asks while your putting your jacket on

- If she’d asked you that this morning

- You would have thought she had lost it

- But now it feels almost inevitable

- And you feel genuinely lucky to be asked

- Not many people get to know Maeve

- The real her

- And that last person she told all of this to broke her heart

- Very publicly

- And she told herself she would never let herself be that vulnerable with someone ever again

- But this just feels right

- For some reason you feel right

- She feels safe with you

- And part of her hates herself for it

- But then again

- She hates herself for not getting to know you sooner

- She feels far too attached to you

- And it’s barely been twelve hours

- You of course agree to stay

- Shocking yourself and her

- And while she sorts to sofa out

- You excuse yourself to the bathroom

- Under the pretences of telling your parents where you are

- It takes two seconds to text them

- And the other 28 to ask yourself

- What the fuck are you doing?

- Why are you agreeing to this?

- Why do you feel like this?

- What are you feeling?

- Who knows?

- Not you

- Great

- Now you’ve been in the bathroom for a suspicious amount of time

- Just get it together, Y/n

- It’s just a study sleepover

- Maeve gives you a questioning look as you leave

- ‘you know how mums are. always worrying about where you are and what you’re doing’

- ‘i wouldn’t actually’ she shrugs and your eyes widen

- ‘oh shit, sorry. i’m so sorry. god, i’m an idiot.’

- ‘it’s fine’ she forces a laugh and you wince. ‘i got you an extra duvet and little women is ready to watch so i can show you that the book is better’

- ‘that’s not what i said and you know it’

- ‘i’m sorry. i can’t hear you over the sound of me being 100% right and you being 100% wrong.’

- ‘you may be good at english, but you suck at maths’

- The next day you wake up to the sun shining through the curtains

- And a clump of Maeve’s hair in your mouth

- You splutter and cough and wake her up quickly

- And she jumps away from you and smacks her head of the table

- The two of you ended up moving the blankets to the floor while watching Pride and Prejudice

- And neither of you bothered to move back

- Maeve yawns and scratches her head

- Exposing a small part of her stomach and you feel yourself become a little breathless

- ‘are you okay?’

- ‘ye-yeah’ you nod and she eyes you suspiciously

- ‘whatever’ she shrugs and starts making breakfast

- You watch as she pours to bowls of cereal

- Giving you the last of the milk

- And for a second you’re a little worried as to how she knew you liked it

- But then you remember that she also likes it and you had a whole discussion about the best and worst types of cereal at 2am

- And half way through breakfast

- You remember the original reason you’re here

- And both of you curse loudly

- Before rushing to finish eating

-You get half way through your project

- When Maeve asks if you want to go out for a bit

- And well

- She doesn’t need to ask you twice

- And by the time you come back

- The feeling you had last night returns

- And has settled in your stomach

- For the foreseeable future it seems

- It makes you feel both light and heavy at the same time

- And when you look at her

- You feel dizzy

- So you rush to finish the project

- So you can go home and pretend nothing has changed

- And yeah

- With the need to leave

- You get the rest of the assignment done fairly quickly

- But you end up leaving feeling more confused about Maeve as you did when you started this

- Maybe Miss Sands was right about a weekend project

- Any longer and you would have gone insane trying to figure out whatever the hell this is

- You just have to get through tomorrow and then you’ll be okay

- Everything will go back to normal

- You and Maeve can go back to being neutral to each other

- And you won’t have to deal with all of these confusing feelings that have decided to make an appearance for some reason

- Wellll

- Turns out Miss Sands was wrong

- A weekend is not enough time

- And the first few presentations are awful

- To put it nicely

- So you spend the next week in a permanent confused state

- Confused as to why you start looking for Maeve whenever you enter a room

- Confused as to why your heart skips a beat whenever you hear her laugh

- Confused as to why you never want her stop talking in class

- Even if the bell has rung and it’s lunch

- Confused to why you keep looking for excuses to go over to see her

- Despite your assignment being long done

- And even more confused as to why you feel anxious when you’re waiting for her to answer the door

- The next Monday rolls around both painfully slowly and far too quickly

- And while you wait for Ola and Danny to finish their presentation

- Your hands shake with anxiety while your grip your papers

- Maeve reaches over the table and gives them a reassuring squeeze

- But it just makes them shake more and she slowly pulls back

- Your turn can’t come quick enough

- But then it’s over far too quickly

- And you slump back down in your seat disappointed

- Despite Miss Sands’ praise

- Because it’s over

- You no longer have an excuse to hang out with her

- You never talked before

- So why do you care about after

- But there’s so much about her that you want to know

- Like the weird swan/moth hybrid

- And the ugly plate that sits on top of the bookshelf

- You want to be part of these stories

- You want to be able to point to these things and say

- ‘yeah, i know exactly why that is special to you’

- You want to be the reason to add to this random collection of stuff

- You want her to smile when she looks at them because they’ll remind her of you

- You want her to smile when she looks at you

- ‘y/n? are you okay?’ she asks making you jump

- The classroom is now empty and you didn’t even notice the bell go

- ‘ye-yeah’ you nod and grab your bag

- ‘are you sure?’ she grabs your arm forcing you turn around

- ‘whats the weird swan thing on your coffee table?’ you ask and she furrows her eyebrows at you. ‘it’s just i saw it when i first came over and i really want to know the story behind it’

- ‘oh. aimee went through a pottery phase last year and that was the only thing she made that didn’t have a hole in it.’

- ‘and the plate?’

- ‘birthday present from my neighbours’

- ‘they got you a plate?’

- ‘yeah, they don’t have any kids’

- ‘clearly’

- Silence fills the room and you stare at the peeling posters behind her head

- You can feel Maeve move closer to you and your breath hitches when she stops a few centimetres in front of you

- She grabs your hand and squeezes it again

- And your heartbeat increases

- ‘y/n?’

- ‘yeah?’

- ‘i’m really, really confused right now. like more confused that i have ever been in my life. but what i do know, is that if i watch you walk out of that door without saying anything first, then i’d regret it for the rest of my life. i’ve only ever felt like this about boys before, but now i feel this and more about you and i have no idea where it’s come from or what i need to do, but i do know i need to tell you. because otherwise, it wouldn’t be fair for either of us’ she whispers and you stare at her wide eyed

- ‘can i kiss you?’ she asks and you nod your head quickly

- Slowly she leans in

- Her eye flutter closed and you follow

- Your lips brush over hers

- Her hands wrap around you waist to pull you close

- And then your lips connect

- And you feel everything change

- She kisses you slowly

- And when you pull away you both feel breathless

- Her cheeks are bright red

- And there’s a shy smile playing on her lips as she looks at you bashfully

- And all of a sudden you feel really grateful for Miss Sands and her personal issues

- Although you really hope they are resolved now

- For your sake as well as hers

support my writing! if you want!

#sex education #sex education imagine #maeve wiley #maeve wiley imagine #maeve wiley x reader

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iliveiloveiwrite · 3 years ago

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Draco Malfoy and the Parent Trap (headcanons)

Request: hc for scorpius trying to get his father back together with his dada teacher a while after his mother passing because he wanted his father to be happy and he found out reader used to be his school sweetheart before things got in their way? - anon

A/N: This is a fairly long headcanon and for that, I apologise! I had so much fun with this though! I’ve split this into sections like how I would a full length fic otherwise it’s too hard to follow, in my opinion.

Warnings: female reader, mischief and mishaps, kissing, fluff, humour, mentions of death, past relationships.

Scorpius Malfoy loved his mother; he adored his mother, but even he could no longer deny that she was not coming back.

Astoria Malfoy had died, and she was not coming back.

It had been years since her passing and whilst Scorpius missed her every single day, he could not ignore the fact that his father needed to meet someone new.

-------

Draco Malfoy adored his wife; he would give up his soul to have her back in his arms where he could love her as wholly as he had when she was alive. If he had possession of the resurrection stone, he knew who he would bring back, he didn't care whether it would change her - he would have her back.

However, Draco Malfoy was lonely. He missed his wife, but he also missed the companionship of a relationship. He missed going to bed and having someone there when he woke up wishing him a good morning.

He yearned to have someone to hold; someone to love; someone to care for.

Draco Malfoy simply wanted someone.

-------

Scorpius didn't really have a favourite class; he enjoyed them all as he loved learning, but he found himself drawn to Defence Against the Dark Arts when you took over as Professor, breathing new life into the subject.

“Scorpius!” You call, smiling widely as the blonde ambles over to you. “Well done! I haven't seen spell casting like that since I last saw your father.”

“You knew my father?” Scorpius asks you, shocked at the admission.

“We were very close for a time,” You admit, feeling your face flush as the teenager looks on confused, “But we drifted apart.”

“What was he like back then?” Scorpius asks before he can help himself, “Dad doesn't speak a lot about his time at Hogwarts; he says his life began when he met my mother.”

You laugh, pressing a hand to your chest. “I understand why he would say that; he always was the romantic. I was sorry to hear of her passing; I remember when she attended Hogwarts.”

“Thank you,” Scorpius whispers quietly; a new wave grief washing over him as he meets another person who0 had known his mother.

“You’re the spitting image of your father. How is he?” You ask, needing to know.

“He’s okay. He’s lonely,” Scorpius admits, “He misses my mother.”

“As he should,” You state, nodding solemnly. “He always was serious. Even in school; I could very rarely get him to take a night off and have some fun.”

Scorpius smiles at the image conjured in his mind; the teenaged version of his father causing mayhem around the castle - it just didn't seem true. Scorpius sighs when he glances at the clock. “I’ll see you next time, Professor.”

“Bye, young Malfoy,” You laugh, thinking back to a time when a blonde haired teenager had been the centre of your universe.

------

Scorpius brings up the subject at lunch, asking Albus and Rose whether they knew anything of it.

Albus shrugs, sipping at his water before shaking his head. Rose frowns, tapping her chin with her finger. “I remember hearing my parents talk about it,” She murmurs, seeming far off as if in a distant memory.

“What did they say?” Scorpius all but demands, perching on the edge of his seat.

Rose’s eyes brighten as the conversation comes back to her. “I remember!” She all but cries, “They were discussing Professor (Y/L/N)’s appointment as our professor - they knew her at Hogwarts, you see.”

“Anything else?” Scorpius presses, already aware of such knowledge.

“My dad spoke about how he could never believe that someone like Professor (Y/L/N) would date your dad.”

“WHAT?” Scorpius shouts; not out of the slight insult to his father, but the fact that his Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher used to date his father and neither said a word about it. “They dated?!”

Rose shrugs, reaching for her drink. “They must have if my parents were talking about it. I don't know how long for, but both my parents said it was the nicest they had seen your father act.”

Scorpius frowns at Rose’s words but does not comment; instead, he wonders about his father, overworking himself at St Mungo’s so he doesn't have to come home to an empty house.

“Scorp,” Albus sings, interrupting Scorpius’ worrying, “I have an idea.”

“What is that?” Scorpius asks warily; these ideas never ended well.

“You were talking about wanting your father to find love again... and here you are being educated by on elf his exes.”

“Okay?”

“Set them up you fool!”

“Oh!” Scorpius gasps, seeing the plan fall into place right before his eyes.

“Alright,” He concedes, “But I’ll need your help.”

-----

The plan gets put into motion the following week.

Scorpius approaches you at the end of Thursday’s lesson, a sheepish look on his face.

“You know your father had the same expression when he messed up,” You snort, “What did you do?”

“It’s not so much what I did, but what my father would like to hear.”

“Pardon?”

“My father wrote to me yesterday asking if he could have an early report of my progress in school. Since you already know him, I thought - if you don't mind, that is - you would write to him first, update him on DADA?”

You roll your eyes. “Of course, Scorpius. I’ll write a report his evening and send it with the owls tomorrow morning.”

“Thank you!” Scorpius exclaims; eyes wide with happiness as the first stage of the plan falls into place.

-----

Stage One: set up communication.

Draco had never sent his son a letter asking for his progress so far; Draco never rushed for academic excellence, he was simply happy with Scorpius’ best.

However, the report would hopefully open up a line of communication between the exes which would in turn lead to something more.

-------

Owl Post arrives only once a day so it isn't until Saturday that Scorpius hears back from his father.

He opens his letter with barely restrained glee; Albus and Rose watching on curiously.

Inside the weighty envelope, Scorpius finds your progress report of his work in DADA but also an attached note from his father:

“Scorpius, you do not need to feel pressured to send me reports. I know you’ll try your best in every subject. You will do well with (Y/N) teaching you. She was a genius at this subject when I was at school.”

Scorpius freezes for a moment; running a finger over his father’s handwriting as he is hit with a keen sense of absence. He didn't get homesick often, but right now, he misses his father more than words could say.

Albus reads over the letter, Rose follows. The three sit in silence as they think of their next move. Rose comes up with the idea.

“Your dad needs to reply to Professor (Y/L/N). It would look rude if he did not.”

Scorpius nods; reaching into his bag for a piece of parchment and his quill. He scrawls a quick reply to his father:

“Dad, I just thought you would appreciate the update. I hope you replied to Professor (Y/L/N), it would be rude to not have given that she took the time to write to you.”

His reply is sent in the afternoon when he treks up the Owlery, feeds a postal owl before offering up his letter to be returned to Draco. Scorpius had even tucked Professor (Y/L/N)’s original letter in the envelope so his father did not forget what she had written.

As Scorpius watches the owl fly away, he wonders whether this plan will ever work.

-----

Time passes and Scorpius begins to wonder whether the plan is working.

He watches you in lessons; notices that you seem a little brighter, that there is a little glow about you when you smile.

And Scorpius cannot help but wonder whether his father did reply and that the both of you were keeping in touch.

The hope that unfurls in his chest at the thought if his father happy again is what makes him pray to Merlin for it all to work out.

-----

It’s a Friday afternoon, weeks into the plan, when you approach Scorpius.

“Scorpius, may I talk to you for a moment?”

“Yes, Professor.”

“I’m not sure if your father had made you aware or whether he was keeping it a surprise, but he’s coming to the school tomorrow.”

Scorpius’ face goes slack at your words.

Draco had never come to the school; had not wanted to come after the second wizarding war and for good reason too. For Draco to be stepping foot back into the place he so strongly thinks hates him, there must be a powerful reason.

“Why?” is all Scorpius asks.

You fiddle with your fingers before replying. “He sent me a letter letting me know he would be coming to see you, but to also catch up with me. You don’t mind, do you? I know this could be strange for you. I’ll happily cancel if you want to spend the whole day with your father.”

The hope that had been hiding away just behind his heart begins to bloom in his chest as he takes in the hopeful expression on your face. It's then that Scorpius realises that you don't want to cancel on his father, but you would for him. It’s then that Scorpius realises that his father might just be ready for moving on.

“I don't mind at all,” He answers, finding his words truthful. “You and my father have a lot to catch up on.”

“That we do,” You laugh before smiling genuinely at the teenager, “Thank you, Scorpius.”

Scorpius smiles; grabbing his belongings and making his way out of the classroom. Stage two of the plan had begun with Scorpius even realising.

He knows exactly what he needs to do tomorrow.

-----

Scorpius barely sleeps all night for thinking of it.

He’s up with the sun and the first to breakfast as he waits for his father's arrival.

He remains sitting in the Great Hall when he begins to wonder just exactly where his father is. It was long past the time of his arrival.

It’s then that Scorpius decides to wander to the DADA classroom.

He finds Draco there in quiet conversation with you; sitting close together on the desks, hands so close touching that it almost pains Scorpius to look.

He realises then how well you fit together; how you both balance each other out when you snort at something Draco says, reaching out to show his shoulder playfully. Scorpius cannot remember a time when he saw his father have fun; have a joke with someone.

Heads bent close together, Scorpius catches the glimpse of an indulgent smile on his father’s face and it's then that Scorpius knows that his father has found another person to love.

Scorpius thought it would hurt, to see his father with another, but it doesn't. Instead, Scorpius feels relief that his father might not be so alone forever.

An idea pops into Scorpius’ mind.

Gathering his courage, Scorpius reaches for the door handle, and slams the door shut loudly.

He covers his mouth to quash the laughter that bubbles at the sound of your surprised yelp.

He quickly casts a locking charm on the door, remembering an advanced one taught to him by Rose whose mother had taught it to her.

“Let us out!” You yell, shaking the door handle and banging on the door.

“Not yet!” He shouts back with a smile.

“Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy!” Draco shouts, “Let us out right now!”

“Not until you get your act together!”

“What?”

“You can't come out until you admit your feelings!”

And with that, the voices on the other side of the door fall silent and Scorpius sits himself across the corridor from the entrance to the classroom.

-----

Draco shakes his head at the audacity of his son.

You press a hand to your mouth to stop the laughter from leaving.

“It’s not funny!” Draco laments.

“It kinda is,” You admit, “Your son could see something neither of us could.”

“What?”

“Draco, you would have to be half blind to not see my feelings for you.”

“What?” The blonde repeats, once again struck dumb.

You shrug, “We’ve been talking for a while and I thought there was something there. At least, there is something there on my end.”

“It’s been so long,” He whispers, closing his eyes against the wave of emotions washing over him.

Draco feels nothing but conflict; he can no longer ignore the rising affection he has for you, but with every sting of it, he’s reminded of Astoria.

“I’m not asking to replace her,” You whisper, drawing your hands up to your chest as if protecting the already breaking heart. “I know I could never do that.”

Opening his eyes, Draco sees the stricken expression on your face and hates that he’s the cause for it. “I miss having someone there,” He admits quietly, “I miss having someone.”

“I could be that someone,” You state.

“I want you to be that someone,” Draco admits, pulling your hands from your chest, holding them gently in his own. “I want you.”

A watery smile breaks across your face as Draco drops on elf your hands to caress your cheek. “A new chapter,” You whisper, leaning into his touch.

“A new chapter,” Draco promises, ducking his head to kiss you.

------

Scorpius Malfoy misses his mother every day. He knows that she will always be with him, but he misses her nonetheless.

However, he cannot ignore how happy he is for his father to have found someone to love again.

****

Draco Malfoy taglist: @the--queen-of-hell @obxmxybxnk @obx-beach @sycathorn-slush @dracomalfoyswifey @oopskashish @justmesadgirl @detroitobsessed @sexysirius @just-a-belgian-girl @lahoete @minty-malfoy @fallinallinmendes @ravenclawbitch426 @ochrythum @beiahadid @gryffindors-weasley @dracosathenaeum @belladaises

#draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #Draco Malfoy #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy imagines #draco malfoy headcanon #scorpius malfoy #draco malfoy fluff

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lilmajorshawty · 4 years ago

Note

What are your favourite moon signs for a woman to have? Just like you did for the men!!

HAHA that’s so hard women handle their moons energy WAYYYY better!

Virgo moon : they are genuine and extremely childlike but in a youthful tone not an immature one. They want to explore the world and hate the idea of limiting their spirit but at the same time love is always in their back burner. There’s a purity to them which is why it hurts so much to see them hurt. They do genuinely care for others and take the needs and feelings of others into consideration before they ever choose themselves which is why it can be such a shock to those around them when they finally do choose “them.” I have nothing bad to say about virgo moon women expect for the fact that sometimes their ability to completely disconnect from their emotions can cause problems for friendships/family and lovers at times because they can truly “move on”

Cancer moon : I’ve met a many cancer moon women and they are some of the fiercest, intense and most caring people I know. Their main pitfalls are having a baby complex, and being a tad self centered without realizing. They are honestly sooooo family oriented and tend to at times not afford that same compassion to outsiders but that’s mainly just because family is their center for better or for worse. So when the family life isn’t going well they can be a tad dismantled. They are big on self care and despite the generazlizations of cancer moons they tend to be highly independent. Love is on their forefront and they tend to be moody in terms of their romantic and sexual desires just because at the end of the day what matters the most to them is being comfortable. They are eternally wonderful but as I said that chilike self centeredness is always swimming just beneath the surface.

Aries moon : these women are intense. They see and feel with a great passion but also feel nothing with a great disinterest and lack of involvement. If they want something or if you happen to find yourself in the path of their movement they can be all consuming and almost as if a million suns landed their rays on you at once. They want a level of authenticity and honesty in all interactions and the moment they can tell you’re not up to par or on their level they subtly lose interest, detach and become less involved. They are SOOOOO heavy energy wise and a lot of the times you’ll be intimidated by the sexuality, the confidence and empress like nature of them. They really run shit.

Aquarius moon : they are an interesting combination of there and not there. They have this otherworldly, hard to catch vibe. Like the cool kid from Highschool that started all the trends effortlessly, the one everyone wanted to jump into the skin of. They can be eery and a tad depressive but then They’ll suddenly take on a more altruistic vibe? They can be moodier than cancer moons but more servicing than virgo moons. They love and need to be around others and that is their only big flaw, they never really know how to deal with things on their own. But they somehow manage to be loners by nature? They are honestly so full of endless paradoxes but that’s what makes them so unique.

Scorpio moon : now these natives are truly a enigma. Scorpio moon women are everything you read about Scorpio sun men but reversed in a fun house Mirror and decorated with these pretty roses and tulips. They can be blunt, tenacious and fearlessly able to act out what their thinking and feeling. They have a paranoia about sharing their inner shades and prefer to keep their feelings deep inside unless coaxed to do so by a patient lover or friend. They’re honest but you must start by being honest you’re self if you want them to truly open up. They aren’t ones to be manipulated as they naturally view people as self serving and they see the natural power dynamics that exist among people which is often why they prefer to be the one in control. Sex is a big part of their lives and dare I say it’s a big destresser for them. They’re probably the most sexually fluid and emotionally complex of the bunch but they are wonderful souls.

Leo moon : litteral angels. They fly through really intense emotions quietly, loudly, somberly, happily, all so quickly and all dramatically as if they’re in some play. They are so affectionate and deeply caring but they also have a tendency to be needy and self absorbed. They can see The big picture always but sometimes get wrapped up in the idea of how they individually fit in it all. They can be drawn to presences like a moth is to fire and they can also find themselves swarming in a pool of love and loveless situations mainly because their emotional world lives in the realm of love. They tend to adjust themselves when in groups or when around certain people as they want to make the situations easy and without issue or clashing personalities. Very rarely will anyone ever really see their real self and that self is often showed in seldom as it is much more vulnerable and softer than the strong lioness they would like everyone to believe them as.

That being said there’s many others I would mention but I wanted to do my top favorites.

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yespolkadotkitty · 4 years ago

Note

i think it’s fair to say that i’ve fallen far too in love with your zach one shots — not only do you capture his persona so well, it genuinely feels like i’m watching an episode of brothers & sisters

also, your ricky one shot was also so so so good!! you have no idea how grateful we all are that you pluck these characters from obscurity and portray their defining characteristics so accurately while also adding the loveliest fluffiest fluff of all time

i was wondering if you would consider writing a jealous!zach one shot? ngl, the (mutual) pining mixed with jealousy trope is my guilty pleasure and i feel like jealous zach would be 11/10

anyway, just wanted to say you’re fucking amazing and i adore your writing — i hope you’re having a great day!!

THANK YOU FOR THIS LOVELY ASK

(NB: Ok I know this is not Zach but it COULD be. It’s the right year. There are SO FEW pics of Zach so let’s just go with it).

Words: 1700 ~ Warnings: jealousy, pining, angst, fluff, one awesome kiss

Pairing: Zach Wellison x gn!reader

************

YOU: Is it wrong to be attracted to the super in my building?

BFF: Why would it be wrong? Use it to curry favour! Get stuff fixed faster! What is he/she like?

YOU: Tall. Tanned. Dark blond. Has a tattoo - military maybe? Sexiest voice ever.

BFF: If you don’t get him, I will.

You set your phone down and smiled.

Maybe I should say something.

Zach had been the building super of your apartment block for the last three months. He was a massive improvement on the last guy, who spent his days playing Zelda and smoking weed and very occasionally getting off his ass to fix stuff.

He’d been to your place - conveniently next door to his, he had a live-in type gig - four times. The garbage disposal, the leaky faucet, the faucet again, and then the window.

Notes could be left in his mailbox downstairs by tenants who needed assistance. He always responded the same day, the next day at the very latest, and he always tried to arrange a time with the occupant that suited them.

He’d gotten all greasy and wet fixing the faucet, his plaid button-down clinging to him, and eventually he’d stripped it off, revealing a tattoo you hadn’t been brave enough to try and examine properly, and some serious biceps.

Next time I see him, you promise yourself.

BFF: Btw, what’s happening with the dude at no 16?

YOU: Nothing.

You’d engaged in a mild flirtation with the well-built guy across the hall. Sometimes he got your mail in his box by mistake and he dropped it off, but lately he hadn’t engaged with you, and you began to think he was just being friendly.

The next day, before you could properly think of what to write down for Zach, the washing machine that came with your place started to leak. You noticed when trying to take your clothes out of it.

“Crap!”

Rather than put a note in his box, you knocked on Zach’s door.

He opened it after a minute, surprise sketched on his handsome face, hair ruffled, sweat beading at the neck of his t-shirt. Past him, you could see weight lifting equipment on the floor, along with a small speaker playing 70s rock.

“Fleetwood Mac?” You ask, smiling. “They’re my favourite.”

“No kidding?” A smile tipped up one corner of his mouth. “So... “ His brown eyes met yours, warm, concerned. “Are you okay?”

“I hate to bother you directly, but my washer’s busted - leaking.”

“It’s no bother.” He glanced behind him. “Give me five, okay? I’ll be right there.”

“Thanks so much, Zach.”

He nods and closes the door. You’re about to turn back to your apartment when Well Built Guy - Damon, you think his name is - comes out of his own apartment.

“Hey,” he greets you.

“Oh, hey. How are you?”

He pushes a hand through his short, black hair. His single earring glints in the daylight; gives him a pleasingly piratical look. “I’m good. How are you?”

“Yeah, good - thanks.” You move again.

“Wait.” He takes a step closer in the small hall. “I was wondering if you - if you wanted to get coffee sometime? This place two blocks over does an amazing dark roast.”

“Oh, well-”

You’re cut off when Zach’s door swings open. He’s changed into a clean shirt, a forest-green henley, and he carries a faded red toolbox. His gaze darts between you and Damon, wary, and for a second, his mouth turns down.

As quickly as you see it, it’s gone.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he mutters, to you. “Can I go in?”

“I’ll let you in, Zach.” You turn your attention to Damon.”Catch you later?”

“Sure, sweet thing.”

He’s called you the nickname before but it’s never chafed until today.

Zach doesn’t react as you come to the door and let him in.

“Thanks for coming by so quickly.”

He doesn’t look at you. “You didn’t have to cut your time with your boyfriend short.” He sets his toolbox down by the washer and kneels, unbothered by the pool of water that begins to leech into the pale denim of his jeans.

“He isn’t my boyfriend.”

Zach sets about exploring the washer. “Okay.”

“He isn’t.” You stuff your hands in your pockets. “You want some coffee?”

For the first time, he looks up at you, and the expression in his honey-brown eyes is scraped bare, and then he looks away and the connection is lost. “Sure. Thanks. Black, one sugar.”

You busy yourself, just a few feet away - your kitchen is not big by any stretch of the imagination.

“Here you go.”

“Thanks.” He’s absorbed, only his waist and ass sticking out from the drum of the washer.

You potter off to do some work.

An half hour later, Zach knocks on the door of your tiny office - the only other “room” of your studio aside from the bathroom.

“All fixed.”

“Thank you so much, Zach.”

He swipes the back of his hand over his forehead, leaving a smear of grease. “No problem.”

“You’ve got a-” You reach up, every nerve on end, wanting to touch him.

A knock sounds at your door.

Dammit.

“Sorry,” you mutter.

You swing the door open and Damon is there with two coffees.

“I was on my way back from the office,” he says. “I thought you might like to - oh, the super’s still there. Not fixed yet, pal?”

Damon says it innocuously but you see Zach’s shoulders tense.

“Nope, all good.” He rubs the palms of his hands together in a “that’s done” gesture. “I’ll get out of your hair.”

“... Place next door is this amazing Italian,” Damon is saying, oblivious. “It’s pretty pricey but I’d love to take you there.”

Zach pushes between you and out of the door, but you see the crestfallen set of his shoulders as he goes.

The door swings shut behind him and you turn back to Damon, resigned to see this conversation out, and to make it clear that he’s kind, but you aren’t interested.

*******

That evening, you take the stairs down to the communal gym in your building. Well. Gym is stretching it. There’s one ancient rowing machine, one treadmill, a barbell that has seen much better days, and a CRT TV that only shows Judge Judy. But, you don’t have to pay for it, so it beats a gym contract elsewhere in the city.

When you push through the door, Zach is on the treadmill, earphones in. He’s wearing a sleeveless vest and your gaze is drawn to his intricate tattoo - an eagle perched on a world, an anchor hugging the globe. Marines.

Wow, you think - wow.

Sweat trickles down the back of his neck, and his thick, dark gold hair curls around his nape.

Now or never.

You walk over to the treadmill and drop your gym bag to announce your presence.

Zach turns, does a double take, and then presses a button on the treadmill to slow it down. He pulls his earphones out.

“Hey.”

“Hey, Zach.”

Curiosity flits across his features. “Something you need?”

You swallow. He looks so good, his pale gold skin slick with clean sweat, his breath coming in soft pants, his chest rising and falling, lean muscles delineated by the clinging vest.

“No. I mean, yes.”

“And you can’t get the guy at 16 to help?” he snarks.

You step back.

“Sorry,” Zach says, immediately. “I just…”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you assure Zach.

Above his head, on the TV, Judge Judy silently reprimands a woman with six face piercings.

“He could be. Guy like him. Good job. He’d take you to fancy Italian places.”

You curl your hand around the arm of the treadmill. “Maybe I don’t want to go to fancy Italian places.”

Zach huffs out a breath, but you have his interest.

“Maybe I’d just like to hang out with you.”

Suspicion narrows his eyes. “Why?”

“Maybe I like you? Did you consider that? Maybe, for some bizarre reason, I think you’re nice and attractive?” you wave your arms, frustrated.

Zach folds his arms across his chest, pursing his lips. “I used to be a Marine, but I had to resign my commission because I got hit hard with PTSD. I lived on the street for two years.”

You hold his gaze as he speaks.

“Why are you telling me this?”

But then you know. He’s telling you so you’ll turn tail and go back to Damon, with his suits and fancy haircut and ability to take you out for $100 dinners.

He expects you to turn him down.

Because that’s what happens. What has happened and what he thinks will happen now.

Zach firms his lips and shakes his head slightly.

“Just go,” he says, so softly, mistaking your silence for pity, rather than resolve.

“No.” Instead, you lean up on your toes and touch your lips to his.

He starts, and then holds perfectly still. You break the kiss, and look up into his face, and he’s gazing at you like you hung the moon and all the stars.

“I like you, Zach,” you whisper. “And I don’t care if our first date is a picnic in the park.”

He blinks, turning away from you for a second, and then he ducks under the arm of the treadmill, and he’s so close that you breath catches.

“I’ve thought about this,” he murmurs, and then he cups your face in his hands and kisses you like he means it, lips and teeth and tongue, and it’s everything.

You spear your fingers into his hair and breathe him in, press yourself against the hard wall of his chest, sigh his name against his lips.

“I gotta shower,” he says, with clear reluctance, his voice half an octave lower, unsteady from a kiss that has rocked both your worlds. “Then, let’s see about that picnic.”

**********

Zach Pit & permanent taglist: @mrschiltoncat @astroboots @songsformonkeys @biblioworm @aeryntheofficial @thirstworldproblemss @wheresarizona @pedropascalito @knittingqueen13 @alwaysbethewest @agirllovespancakes @f0rever15elf @heatherbel @frannyzooey @lannister-slings-and-arrows @sarahjkl82-blog @thedazeinmylife @holographic-carmen @idreamofboobear @fromthedeskoftheraven @disgruntledspacedad @chicken-nugget-puta @miulola @nelba @alienprincesspoop @tardisfangurl @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @mylonelylittleappreciation @filthybookworm @absurdthirst @thestrawberry-thief @lilangeldevil006 @marydjarin @jedi-mando @havenforafrazzledmind @myoxisbroken @10-96dispatcher @stormtrooperofficerbrowneyes @mrsparknuts @roxypeanut

#zach wellison x reader #zach wellison x gn reader #sfw fic #brothers and sisters fic

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gladerwolfstarkimagines · 4 years ago

Text

Not just a soft princess - Azula x female reader imagine: Part Three

Your relationship with Azula develops but a reality check makes you question if you are wise to trust the princess of the fire nation...

Part one here

Part two here

Part four here

Part five here

Part six here

Your POV

Since the day Azula stood up to Ozai for you things changed. You supposed word got out Azula was protecting you that’s why people started treating you better but it could also be due to Azula’s presence herself. After that night you saw a lot more of her and you weren’t complaining. She attended your lessons more frequently and even took over some portions of them herself. You got more freedom granted to you and when you were with Azula you didn’t even need a guard anymore. Thanks to the clause Azula placed in the contract there was no reason to force you and Zuko together and so you no longer dreaded all the formal occasions. Instead you were free to do as you wished at such events and that often included Azula. You found her presence comforting but also enjoyable. She was witty and clever, making you laugh with her deductions and well timed quips. You liked the proud blush that would fill her cheeks when she made you laugh and the only thing better was when she’d laugh at one of your own jokes. The way her mouth upturned into her signature smirk, how her shoulders would shake lightly and then she’d realise you were admiring her and be unable to meet your eyes for a few seconds. You’d never seen a sight so beautiful and were convinced there wasn’t anyone as beautiful as Azula, ever. You realised you’d developed more than a fondness for her when you found yourself thinking about her when she wasn’t around. The realisation made you nervous but also excited for one reason in particular. You were pretty sure the fire princess liked you too.

You were thinking about Azula as you dressed for the party that night. You had been at the fire nation for 2 months now and the constant feeling of dread and uncertainty was now more of a memory. You still missed home but it was no longer painful being here, you were adapting. That thought in mind you frowned when your maid asked you what dress you would like to wear tonight. There were dozens of beautiful options but they were all green given Ozai’s desire to make you up as a earth kingdom doll. You were sick of the colour green now and wanted to wear any other colour at this point. You’d noticed Azula constantly wore red and it always looked flattering. You couldn’t tell if that was because of Azula herself or if red was simply a flattering colour but the fire nation certainly did fashion better than the earth nation and if you were forced to live here you thought you should benefit from that. "Are there any red dresses?" you asked and the maid looked at you "red?". "Yes...i just thought as i’m part of the fire nation now maybe i could show it?". The maid smiled 'that sounds lovely princess y/n, i’ll go find one right away".

Azula’s POV

Azula stared out of the window as her father complained about some nobleman. Typically Azula would hang on her father’s every word and rush to assure him he was superior to everyone but lately her mind had been elsewhere...well it’d been on you more accurately. The truth was Azula had greatly enjoyed her time with you and found herself looking forward to the next chance she’d get to interact with you. Sure she’d had her friends Mai and Ty lee growing up but she’d never had someone she could relate to or feel solidarity with. With you Azula felt that. She’d always figured she was the exception to the typical princess role but you had made her see that was incorrect. You were smart and outspoken, you weren’t intimidated by the fire nation anymore and it showed. Your confidence seemed to grow each day and while it clearly bothered her father Azula relished in it. Despite the nation you were from, she couldn’t help but root for you and it had nothing to do with the fact your fate was tied to hers. It was because she genuinely liked and cared for you, something she’d never expected to happen.

Azula was ironically pulled out of her thoughts about you because of you.

"What is she doing?" Ozai snapped and Azula was so distracted she didn’t turn around for a few seconds. When she did her breath was knocked out of her. Her eyes were drawn to you immediately and they widened as a smile formed on her face. You were wearing her favourite shade of red and you looked amazing. The dress was simple and so was your hair and makeup but that seemed to make the effect all the more impactful, Azula remembered when she saw you back in Ba Sing Sei and how then you’d been dressed simply but still managed to look amazing. You didn’t need to dress up a diamond, it was beautiful no matter what adorned it. Azula was biased but saw this as a good sign, you had donned their colours, surely this showed your willingness to cooperate?

Her father didn’t agree. "I ordered all the maids to give her green clothing only! What use is she to us if you cannot identify her as earth kingdom royalty at a glance". Azula thought the emphasis on colour scheme a tad ridiculous but tried to appease her father "i think it is only for one night, this is good though. It seems she is showing loyalty to us". Ozai scoffed "as she should given all we’ve done for her, less of a prisoner and more of a honoured guest considering we’re housing and educating her for free". "She will get us the whole of the earth empire". "So you keep saying but so far all she has brought is Ba Sing Sei". Azula’s eye twitched. Ba Sing Sei was the biggest victory for the war in decades and was the brightest piece of the earth empire. For her father to disregard that was ludicrously idiotic but Azula knew he was just in a strop. He knew your use he was just annoyed he couldn’t exploit every drop of it at once and she was more determined than ever to prevent him for ever being able to do that to you.

Your POV

"You must've been dreadfully bored to make such a bold statement" a silky voice called and you didn’t even have to turn to know who it belonged to. Azula always found you sooner or later but she was definitely getting quicker. When you looked at Azula confused by her comment she gestured to your outfit "the dress, I can’t imagine what provoked you to don our colours". You laughed smiling "i thought a change would be nice, plus if this is to be my home now i thought showing some loyalty to it couldn’t hurt, but given your father’s reaction...". Azula almost scoffed but caught herself. "He was anxious but i made him see it correctly, that this a symbol of unity. How you were proclaiming your support and love for the fire nation simply by wearing a colour...a very subtle but effective political statement”. You smiled "yes but honestly? I’m just sick to death of the colour green". That thought never occurred to Azula and it caught her off guard making her laugh aloud. Something the princess had never done at a formal event. She caught herself quickly but blushed to see you were beaming at her reaction. "I’ve seen you wear it so successfully i thought i would try" you smiled and Azula looked at you surprised. "I...i am flattered". Azula’s slight blush deepened making you more confident and so you stepped back from her and opened your arms "so what’s the verdict? Did i pass in red?". Azula glanced over you very quickly her blush still very evident as she purposefully avoided looking you in the eye "you know you did, the colour suits you rather well, especially with your skin tone...." Azula trailed off before coughing "so yes you passed". You blushed smiling too "i would wear it more but i do not know if that is wise". Azula shook her head "i think green is safer". You nodded your head but felt deflated "i thought as much". "It’s lucky you look good in that colour too then i suppose" Azula commented suddenly and you looked at her in shock. "Maybe it is simply all colours?" she suggested "that wouldn't surprise me". "It wouldn't?" you asked and Azula shook her head "not at all princess". You looked away first, flustered and now blushing too and Azula grinned widely.

Mai and Zuko’s POV

Mai and Zuko watched you and discussed your show quietly. Zuko was worried what this would provoke from his father and Mai was worried Ozai would like seeing you in red. They were discussing which outcome was most likely when Azula approached you. They carried on talking when they noticed Azula laugh. An actual genuine unprovoked laugh. The couple went silent and Zuko spoke first after a delay "did my sister just....". "Burst out laughing? Yes". "When has she ever...". "Never" Mai finished "i’ve only seen her laugh when somebody falls or says something stupid". Zuko nodded "what on earth did y/n sat to her?”. Mai narrowed her eyes wondering just that too. "Could Azula...are they friends?" Zuko asked watching you two talk and Mai paused "Azula did keep her promise to protect her and she did add that marriage clause to her contract risking your father’s wrath". "But Azula never likes anyone" Zuko frowned "especially enough to put her neck on the line". "She must really like y/n then" Mai frowned as Azula suddenly blushed. Her and Zuko watched the two of you both blushing vividly, glancing at each other excitedly and they both inhaled. "She really really likes y/n" Zuko gaped and Mai nodded "and y/n her it appears .

Azula’s POV

Azula knew she had secured your place theoretically but she still worried you were physically vulnerable. She knew you were a skilled earth bender but you didn’t know how sneaky fire nation fighting was. The earth nation was upfront in their attacks but the fire nation was a fan of knives in the back and so Azula thought it wise to prepare you. So she invited you to join her for an hour a day to train.

Your POV

When Azula first invited you to spar with her your initial thought was suspicion. Why would the fire nation want to train you physically? However that was quickly overshadowed by excitement as Azula assured you that you’d be alone and that she just wanted to show you some basics. You’d seen Azula fight and were more than eager to receive tips from her. Not to mention it would make the seemingly never ending days go faster. You arrived at the sparring yard before the agreed time to find Azula already there. "You’re early" she commented dismissing your guards and you frowned "i apologise i thought the walk would take longer". "Do not apologise being early or on time are the only two acceptable options". You smiled getting the feeling Azula was early for everything and your smile lingered as the princess had you warm up. After your cardio Azula started showing you forms. Basic crucial ones first like how to avoid a knife strike or block a blow. She made it look so easy but was also a very good teacher. By the end of your third session you were able to successfully block Azula at her fastest pace and you were thrilled. Azula had been springing surprise attacks at you all session and even once she declared the session over she attacked you once again. You didn’t even register it but instead your body reacted and blocked her using perfect form. Azula looked at you impressed and a smile broke your face "i didn’t even think about it I just blocked you! I did it Azula!". Azula smirked at your endearing excitement "yes well done". "You are a very good teacher, i am a slow learner but you helped me master that in three days!". "It is only one of many forms" Azula replied "we still have many more to go before you are truly a master or i a good teacher". "Of course but this is a good first step is it not?" you asked. Azula would’ve said no. She was always hard on herself and didn’t believe in small victories but your smile was infectious and so she agreed "yes, you did well".

Azula’s POV

As your hand to hand combat improved Azula turned her attention to your bending. She was more than excited to have you display your bending again and not just because she found it enjoyable to watch. She also knew you’d been strictly forbidden from bending ever since you’d stepped foot in the fire nation. She figured it might make you more comfortable to be able to bend again and so she quickly worked it into your curriculum. She was impressed again as soon as she saw you bend. Earth was the element of strength and you were very skilled in that aspect. Azula would catch herself admiring your back and arms as your muscles tensed before she’d catch and scold herself for being unprofessional.

It soon became tradition that at the end of every session you and Azula would spar using your bending and it was the favourite part for both of you, You were both in your element (no pun intended) and Azula could get caught up in the feeling easily. Sometimes too much...

The two of you were sparring and it was going as it always did. You would stubbornly hold territory and refuse to move while Azula would flit around attempting to dislodge your stance. It took a while for either of you to wear the other down and so when Azula saw you starting to grow tired she got excited. She attacked your left side with a flurry of attacks coaxing you into exposing your other side to attacks. Azula knew you’d block the attack with your quick reflexes but when she finally saw you neglect your right side defences she acted. Azula reached out for your exposed arm directing a whip of fire straight for it. She smiled as you noticed and went to block it when you lost your footing. The floor was littered with debris from all your rocks that Azula had shattered and a piece had wormed it’s way directly between your feet. You stumbled over the rock your defence forgotten as you tried to regain your balance and Azula’s fire sped at you. Azula tried to yell but it was no use as her fire hit you knocking you over, a trail of smoke following.

Your POV

“Y/n” you heard Azula yell as the blast hit you. You had been knocked flat on the floor but managed to sit up. You arm had took the brunt of the attack and you clutched your arm tightly into your side as it pulsed in pain. Azula appeared by your side and stared at your arm horrified. The moment you saw her worried look you tried to play it off and smile. "I’m fine" you assured her but Azula shook her head "no you’re not, come here". You glanced down at your arm but held it out to her.

Azula inspected the burn and frowned. It wasn’t serious, the skin would be healed in a few weeks and it shouldn’t cause you too much pain in the meantime but it would scar. “It’s not too bad but it needs dressing...come on”. Azula soaked your arm and apologised as you winced. She carefully dried it and applied a cooling balm onto it. You flinched and she frowned “does it hurt?”. “Yes but that feels nice, it feels cold”. Azula nodded. She waited for the gel to soak in before bandaging your arm carefully. “We’re lucky it was just your arm...if you’d fallen and my fire hit you somewhere else...” Azula paused “I should’ve been more careful”. “It wasn’t your fault, it was just an accident” you tried but Azula shook her head “fire benders aren’t allowed accidents, accidents get people killed”. You watched Azula’s concentrated tense face and wished you could ease the guilt she seemed to feel. Azula finished bandaging your arm and tucked the bandages away expertly, you watched amazed as her fingers worked softly and swiftly. For the first time you noticed there were many small scars from burns and cuts along her fingers and you watched her face closely. The princess was immaculate but on closer inspection, you could see the small scars and flaws of any person. It didn’t surprise you Azula kept hers hidden, she seemed like the type to tightly guard her weaknesses and you frowned wondering if she’d been told to do that as a child. From how faded some of the scar were you were guessing she had and it made you angry. Azula was a powerful force of nature but she was still a human with flaws. Not despite those flaws but because of them you viewed her as the most beautiful and intelligent woman you’d ever known and you wanted her to know that.

"Finished" Azula declared and then looked up to see you staring at her. "Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked. In response you blinked and leant across the table to kiss her. Azula jumped pulling away as soon as you touched her and you jumped back too, upset and horrified you’d read her signals wrong. "You shouldn’t do that" Azula said and you blinked "i’m sorry i just thought...we’ve been flirting and I thought you might like me...". "No i meant here" Azula said cutting you off "we shouldn’t do that here but other places...". You paused and slowly smiled at Azula’s tone "other places....so you do like me?". Azula shushed you "not here too many ears come on" and held a hand out to you "but yes" she whispered as you took her hand. You smiled at her and Azula’s cheeks turned a shade of pink as she shot her eyes away from you. Azula led you through the palace confidently and to the royal gardens. You frowned figuring this was an open space with many prying eyes and ears but Azula just smiled more "as a child i learnt all the best places to hide are in here". "You had need of many hiding places?" you asked as Azula led you into the maze. She nodded "this was my mothers favourite place and so the last place she'd think to look for me when she wanted to yell at me, i hid right under her nose and avoided detection". Azula led you deep into the maze before she stopped suddenly "here". A large hedge stood before you and you frowned “Azula it’s...” but Azula just smiled “watch”. She pressed her hands under the left side and pushed the bush to the side. It moved aside easily and Azula stepped through. You followed and found yourself behind large grass sculptures. They perfectly obscured you and gave you a small secluded area. You were still admiring how the hedge just bounced back hiding your entrance perfectly when you realised Azula was close behind you staring at you. Suddenly she couldn’t wait any longer and she kissed you. You laughed at her eagerness but kissed her back. As you were taller Azula wrapped her arms around your neck to be able to reach you easier. You rested your hands on her waist and smirked as Azula almost made you lose your balance in her excitement. You were thoroughly enjoying the kiss when Azula broke it and shot away from you "come on we have to keep moving" she laughed and tugged you out of your hidden area. “Why?” you asked and Azula smiled “you only go undetected as long as you keep moving so that’s what we’ll do”. Azula tugged you into another perfectly hidden alcove and brought her lips to your again before pulling away again just as you were slipping into it. Azula smirked at you exasperated look and you got the feeling she was toying with you. So in the third hiding spot Azula brought you too as soon as she had hidden your entrance you trapped her against it. Being taller had it’s advantages and you gripped Azula’s waist while hovering over her “No more running princess”. Azula grinned and happily accepted her fate.

You liked these hiding places in the garden and apparently so did Azula. She leant against your arms the most content you’d ever seen her. You could see why she loved it here. You could hear other people in the gardens but it felt so wonderfully private. The weather was beautiful and you laid down looking at the sun. “This is one thing I have grown to love about the fire nation, the weather...it’s so nice and warm here” you smiled. “Well it is summer” Azula smirked leaning on her forearms to look down at you “but it is beautiful, wait until you see the festival for the summer solstice. The sky stays light all night and the streets are lit with lanterns everywhere, the whole city glows and all night you just bask in the beauty” Azula sighed “I can’t wait to show it you all”. “Yeah?” you asked and Azula nodded “it’s beautiful even in winter too! We don’t get snow but it gets colder meaning there’s fires on every street corner. They even make a hot chocolate with fire flakes that you have to try” Azula told you “we can take a trip into town and get one....and the restaurants serve festive dishes that are spiced to perfection we will see it all” Azula declared and you smiled. “That sounds amazing”. Azula smiled up at you before leaning further into you.

A while later with a large sigh Azula sat up moving off you “I have to go...my father requested to see me and Zuko, it must be important...if it wasn’t there’s no way I’d go” she told you and you smiled “I know, it’s fine i’ll find someway to manage without you”. Azula smirked “I know Mai and Ty lee were going shopping, you could always tag along with them...they’re not as good company as me of course but it may distract you until i’m done”. “Until you’re done?”. Azula nodded “how about I come join you when i’m finished?”. You nodded your head “sounds perfect” and kissed her softly. Azula smiled and lingered with you as long as she could before pulling back “come on”. She stood up swiftly before helping you up. You walked out of the gardens together and Azula stopped at one path “Ty lee and Mai will be that way, you should hurry so you catch them”. You nodded “have fun at your meeting” and with a purposeful brush against her hurried away. You noticed Azula stayed long enough to watch you walk away before she rushed off for the meeting and smirked, she was definitely going to be late for that.

You came around the corner abruptly and both Mai and Ty lee jumped. “Y/n” Ty lee said surprised “are you okay princess?”. You nodded “I was actually looking for you both, I was wondering if i could accompany you into town? Azula mentioned you were going and suggested you wouldn’t mind”. “Of course we don’t” Ty lee cried and Mai shot her a look. You glanced at Mai who paused before sighing “of course you can come princess”. You smiled “thanks” and went to walk out of the open door but Mai held out her arm “are you forgetting something? A royal can’t leave the palace without a quadrant of guards and a royal precession”. “But she’s not fire nation does she really have to?” Ty lee asked and Mai sighed “you know she does” and turned to call the nearest servant.

It was easy to forget everything the fire nation stood for while you were running around the gardens with Azula but it had a way of reminding you. Mai and Ty lee were not permitted in the royal procession with you and had to walk behind you. The fire nation guards cleared the way through the streets mercilessly and you could see why Mai hadn’t wanted you to come. The citizens were either excited to see you and got beaten back or had been pushed forwards accidentally and suffered the same fate. When you finally reached your destination you felt so malevolent and cruel as the towns people stared but dared not come close. You’d never left the palace in the earth kingdom but there were often parties when normal people could come and they never hesitated to approach or touch you, here you bet the guards would have their hands if they tried. “Y/n?” Ty lee asked as you stared at the guards *controlling* the crowd. “Are you okay?” Ty lee asked and you paused before nodding “i’m fine” and you followed her inside.

Everywhere you went caused a fuss and you felt like you stuck out like a sore thumb. Ty lee wanted to go clothes shopping with Mai but because none of the shops sold green clothes you couldn’t join in. Every time you left a store you had to get back into your stupid cart even if the store was simply down the street. Each store you went into ignored Ty lee and Mai and only focused on you being the royal. You hated all the special treatment you received. You didn’t deserve it and you didn’t want it but there was no escaping it. This was the fire nation.

“What’s wrong y/n?” Ty lee asked “ you’ve barely touched your food” she said noticing how you were just pushing it around. You frowned “I just feel like i ruined your day, everywhere I go I causes a scene, it must be so annoying”. Ty lee shook her head “you haven’t ruined anything we’re used to it”. “How?” you asked and Mai fixed you with a look “you’re not the first royal we’ve travelled with, Azula and Zuko have the same rules but they revel in it a lot more than you”. “They enjoy it?” you asked shocked. “Well not so much Zuko” Mai admitted “but Azula does, she says it reminds people of their position....beneath her”. Mai’s disgusted tone wasn’t lost on you but it did make you think. You didn’t doubt Mai was being truthful, you’d seen first hand how Azula could act but recently you’d started forgetting. You realised with a crashing taste of reality that Azula was probably only like she was with you, with everyone else...who knows how cruel she was. You stared down at your hands feeling guilty for your morning activities with her. What on earth had you been doing sneaking around with the princess that conquered your city. Azula had taken over your home and sent your uncle into exile. The only reason you were here was because she liked you, if you hadn’t have appealed to her would you be exiled too or worse? These thoughts worried you and you couldn’t help but feel like a hypocrite. You’d personally sworn to detest the fire nation but had fallen for the princess? You couldn’t allow that and so you decided to call whatever this was off with Azula. As soon as she joined you.

However Azula never made it to the cafe. When you returned to the palace in the evening there was still no word from her and you weren’t sure if you were relieved or not. The evening pressed on when suddenly there was a knock at your door. You opened it to find Azula smiling widely. “I know I missed this afternoon but I have a good reason!” she waved some servants into your room and you watched confused as they started packing your belongings. “Azula what on earth....”. “We don’t have time!” she said excitedly “we’re leaving tonight! Mai, Ty lee and Zuko have to come too but it will still be great y/n”. “What will be...where are we going?”. “Ember Islands” Azula smiled.

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dailytomlinson · 4 years ago

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While many artists would jump at the chance to tell you how lockdown has been a fruitful opportunity for self-improvement, full of pseudo self-help books and pompous podcasts, former One Directioner Louis Tomlinson is adamant that he has done, well, nothing.

“I’ve just watched loads of s___ TV,” he says after a long pause. “The Undoing is decent, isn’t it?”

Twenty-eight--year-old Tomlinson from Doncaster was always the down-to-earth Directioner, frequently describing himself as fringe member who spent more time analysing the band’s contracts than singing solos, known for chain-smoking his way through several packs of cigarettes a day and swearing like a trooper. A rarity, these days, among millennials who’d rather suck on a stem of kale and tweet about their #blessings.

He's getting ready to rehearse an exciting one-off gig that will be live-streamed from a secret London location on December 12, announced today exclusively via the Telegraph. The proceeds of the night will be split across four charities: The Stagehand Covid-19 Crew Relief Fund and Crew Nation, Bluebell Wood Children’s Hospice and Marcus Rashford’s charity FareShare, to help end child poverty.

The gig means a great deal to Tomlinson, whose first ever tour as a solo artist, to promote his debut solo album WALLS, was cut short back in March after just two concerts in Spain and Mexico. It was an album he’d spent five years working on: a guitar-led project that ruptured with the preppy pop anthems of One Direction, inspired instead by Tomlinson’s love for Britpop.

No doubt he was anxious to get it right following a decade “grown in test tubes”, as Harry Styles once described the band’s formation on the X Factor, where they came third before going on to make a reported $280,000 a day as the most successful band in the world. The pressure, too, was intense: all four bandmates had already released their own solo debuts.

Was he left reeling, I ask, unable to perform at such a crucial moment?

“The thing that I always enjoyed the most about One Direction was playing the shows, so my master plan, when I realised I was going to do a solo career, was always my first tour. It’s something I’ve been looking forward to for the best part of five years now. I got so close, I got a taste for it, and it’s affected me like everyone else, but I’m forever an optimist,” he says down the phone, with what I can only imagine to be a rather phlegmatic shrug.

Sure, I say, but the last year can’t have been easy. Didn’t he feel like his purpose had popped?

“You know what,” he says, reflecting, “maybe because I’ve had real dark moments in my life, they’ve given me scope for optimism. In the grand scheme of things, of what I’ve experienced, these everyday problems...they don’t seem so bad.”

Tomlinson is referring to losing his 43-year-old mother, a midwife, to leukemia in 2016, and his 18-year-old sister Felicite, a model, to an accidental drug overdose in 2018. The double tragedy is something he has been open about on his own terms, dedicating his single, Two of Us, from WALLS, to his mother Johannah, while often checking in with fans who have lost members of their own family.

It’s not unusual for Tomlinson to ask his 34.9 million followers if they’re doing alright, receiving hundreds of thousands of personal replies. It’s not something he will discuss in interviews, however, after he slammed BBC Breakfast for shamelessly probing his trauma in February this year. “Never going back there again,” he tweeted after coming off the show.

“Social media is a ruthless, toxic place, so I don’t like to spend much time there,” says Tomlinson, “but because of experiencing such light and shade all while I was famous, I have a very deep connection with my fans. They’ve always been there for me.”

In return, Tomlinson is good to them. Last month he even promised some new music, saying that he’d written four songs in four days. Does this mean that a second album is on the way?

“Yeah, definitely,” he says. “I’m very, very excited. I had basically penciled down a plan before corona took over our lives. And now it's kind of given me a little bit of time to really get into what I want to say and what I want things to sound like. Because, you know, I was really proud of my first record, but there were moments that I felt were truer to me than others. I think that there were some songs where I took slightly more risk and owned what I love, saying, ‘This is who I want to be’. So I want to take a leaf out of their book.”

Fans might think he’s referring to writing more heartfelt autobiographical content such as Two of Us, but in fact, he’s referring specifically to rock-inspired Kill My Mind, he says, the first song on WALLS. “There’s a certain energy in that song, in its delivery, in its attitude, that I want to recreate. People are struggling at the moment, so I want to create a raucous, exciting atmosphere in my live show, not a somber, thoughtful one.”

He sighs, trying to articulate something that’s clearly been playing on his mind for a while. “You know, because of my story, my album was a little heavy at times and a little somber. And as I'm sure you're aware, from talking to me, now, that isn't who I am.”

It must be draining, I say, the weight of expectation in both the media and across his fanbase, to be a spokesperson for grief and hardship. To have tragedy prelude everything he does and says.

“Honestly, it’s part of being from Doncaster as well, I don’t like people feeling sorry for me. That’s the last thing I want.”

Too many incredible memories to mention but not a day goes by that I don't think about how amazing it was. @NiallOfficial @Harry_Styles @LiamPayne @zaynmalik . So proud of you all individually.

The problem is, says Tomlinson, he doesn’t have the best imagination. “I have interesting things to say musically, but what’s challenging from a writing perspective is that I write from the heart, and I can’t really get into someone else’s story. And right now, being stuck at home, you have so little experience to draw from. It’s actually quite hard to write these positive, uplifting songs, because actually, the experiences that you're going through on a day to day basis, you know, you they don't have that same flavour.”

There is something that’s helping, though: a secret spot near Los Angeles, where he divides his time. “It’s remote and kind of weird, and I’m going to go there for three days and write. I don’t know why I’m so drawn to it. I found it via a YouTube video. It’s got some very interesting locals who live there, it’s sort of backwards when it comes to technology. It feels like you’re going back in time when you’re there. But I don’t want to give it away.”

Another source of inspiration for his second album is the Red Hot Chili Peppers’ back catalogue. “I grew up on their album Bytheway. And during lockdown I've been knee deep in their stuff. I’ve watched every documentary, every video. And I find their lead guitarist John Frusciante just fascinating.”

Has he spoken to Frusicante?

“I f______ wish,” snorts Tomlinson.

Surely someone as well-known as Tomlinson could easily get in touch?

“No, honestly, I think he’s too cool for that. He’s not into that kind of thing.”

Tomlinson’s passion for all things rock is also spurring on a side hustle he picked up as a judge on the X Factor in 2018: managing an all-female rock band via his own imprint on Simon Cowell’s Syco label. While the group disbanded before releasing their first single, and Tomlinson split from Syco earlier this year, the singer is keen to nurture some more talent.

“I'm not gonna lie, my process with my imprint through Syco, it became challenging and it became frustrating at times,” Tomlinson says a little wearily. “The kind of artists that I was interested in developing – because I genuinely feel through my experience in One Direction, you know, one of the biggest f______ bands, I feel like I've learned a lot about the industry – they weren’t ready-made. So I had lots of artists that I took through the door that were rough and ready, but major labels want to see something that works straight away. I found that a little bit demotivating. I love her and she's an incredible artist, but not everyone is a Taylor Swift.”

Tomlinson spends much of his free time scouting new talent either on YouTube, Reddit or BBC Introducing – he’s currently a huge fan of indie Brighton band, Fickle Friends. His dream is to manage an all-female band playing instruments. “Because there's no one in that space. And I know eventually if I don't do it, someone else will!”

Before he drives off to rehearsals, we chatter about how much he's been practising his guitar playing, and how he can't wait to take the whole team working at his favourite grassroots venue, The Dome in Doncaster, out ice-skating after he performs there on his rescheduled tour. “Because I've got skills,” he says, and I can hear his chest puff.

And then I ask the question every retired member of One Direction has been batting off ever since they broke up in 2015, after Zayn Malik quit. Rumours that his bandmates saw him as a Judas went wild after some eagle eyes fans noticed they’d unfollowed him on Instagram. Payne, Tomlinson, Horan and Styles have barely mentioned him since. Recently, however, they re-followed him, and Payne has teased that a One Direction reunion is on the cards.

So: might 2021 be the year of resurrection?

“I thought you were going to ask something juicier!” say Tomlinson witheringly. “Look, I f______ love One Direction. I'm sure we're going to come back together one day, and I'll be doing a couple of One Direction songs in my gig. I always do that, so that's not alluding to any reunion or anything. But, I mean, look, I'm sure one day we'll get back together, because, you know, we were f______ great.”

#telegraph uk #press #louis tomlinson #241120 #its FULL of stunts as telegraph usually goes #stunt mention #Eleanor Halls

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louistomlinsoncouk · 4 years ago

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“I’ve just watched loads of s___ TV,” he says after a long pause. “The Undoing is decent, isn’t it?”

Far from aimless, however, today the singer is full of beans, cheerily shushing his barking dog as he potters about his North London home where he lives with his best friend from home, Oli, and his girlfriend, the model Eleanor Calder.

Was he left reeling, I ask, unable to perform at such a crucial moment?

Sure, I say, but the last year can’t have been easy. Didn’t he feel like his purpose had popped?

In return, Tomlinson is good to them. Last month he even promised some new music, saying that he’d written four songs in four days. Does this mean that a second album is on the way?

It must be draining, I say, the weight of expectation in both the media and across his fanbase, to be a spokesperson for grief and hardship. To have tragedy prelude everything he does and says.

“Honestly, it’s part of being from Doncaster as well, I don’t like people feeling sorry for me. That’s the last thing I want.”

There is something that’s helping, though: a secret spot near Los Angeles, where he divides his time to see his four-year-old son, Freddie, whom he shares with his ex Briana Jungwirth, a stylist. “It’s remote and kind of weird, and I’m going to go there for three days and write. I don’t know why I’m so drawn to it. I found it via a YouTube video. It’s got some very interesting locals who live there, it’s sort of backwards when it comes to technology. It feels like you’re going back in time when you’re there. But I don’t want to give it away.”

Has he spoken to Frusicante?

“I f______ wish,” snorts Tomlinson.

Surely someone as well-known as Tomlinson could easily get in touch?

“No, honestly, I think he’s too cool for that. He’s not into that kind of thing.”

So: might 2021 be the year of resurrection?

#louis tomlinson #24nov20

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hlupdate · 4 years ago

Link

“I’ve just watched loads of s___ TV,” he says after a long pause. “The Undoing is decent, isn’t it?”

Far from aimless, however, today the singer is full of beans, cheerily shushing his barking dog as he potters about his North London home where he lives with his best friend from home, Oli, [...].

Was he left reeling, I ask, unable to perform at such a crucial moment?

Sure, I say, but the last year can’t have been easy. Didn’t he feel like his purpose had popped?

In return, Tomlinson is good to them. Last month he even promised some new music, saying that he’d written four songs in four days. Does this mean that a second album is on the way?

It must be draining, I say, the weight of expectation in both the media and across his fanbase, to be a spokesperson for grief and hardship. To have tragedy prelude everything he does and says.

“Honestly, it’s part of being from Doncaster as well, I don’t like people feeling sorry for me. That’s the last thing I want.”

There is something that’s helping, though: a secret spot near Los Angeles, [...] “It’s remote and kind of weird, and I’m going to go there for three days and write. I don’t know why I’m so drawn to it. I found it via a YouTube video. It’s got some very interesting locals who live there, it’s sort of backwards when it comes to technology. It feels like you’re going back in time when you’re there. But I don’t want to give it away.”

Has he spoken to Frusicante?

“I f______ wish,” snorts Tomlinson.

Surely someone as well-known as Tomlinson could easily get in touch?

“No, honestly, I think he’s too cool for that. He’s not into that kind of thing.”

So: might 2021 be the year of resurrection?

#louis tomlinson #241120 #lt livestream #e and f mentions from the journalist removed where there is [...]#nothing altered from louis #stunt mention #at the link

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aceofshitposts · 3 years ago

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I saw that you like CATS the musical. What are your thoughts on the movie?

AAAAH AHHAHA oh man oh boy y'all should BUCKLE IN cuz it's a ride

my simple thoughts? it's entertaining if only because it butchered the stage show so badly in an attempt to idk modernize it? Well, modernization is one part of it I think. The other part I'll go into below lol. I don't necessarily hate some of the more modern renditions of the songs (mostly the ensemble sets like Jellicle Song for Jellicle Cats) but then others are just... so poorly done it's insulting.

I've said this at the end of this whole rant too but I'm gonna put it up here in case people don't (justifiably) wanna see me go on and on about it:

The movie wasn't made for fans of the musical. It was made to make money and I believe they choose, at least partially, to do that through making it the weirdest and worst possible adaptation they could so that people would want to go see the train wreck. Which, really, worked! It was all people could talk about for a good while so like... Goal achieved, I guess.

A MUCH MORE COMPREHENSIVE ANALYSIS UNDER THE CUT cuz i don't wanna. flood your dash with... this

ALRIGHT SO. Most of my friends know I'm actually a huge fan of new adaptations of things. I love remakes (provided the people making it are coming at it with some form of heart and not just... cash grabbing which is more often the case) I love seeing other peoples interpretations of characters, or changing settings. It's one of the reasons I like American comics so much, getting to see different writers takes is fascinating.

I think musical movies can be wonderful ways to introduce people to a stage show that might have been unavailable to them otherwise! Chicago, for example, is one of the BEST musical to movie adaptations in my opinion. It kept the heart of the show, it's funny and the song numbers are done really well.

There are of course other famous examples, such as Grease or Bye Bye Birdie. Hairspray was also a wonderful take. These are simply off the top of my head, there are of course more.

CATS in particular has a history. If you go through my CATS tag you may see a few posts from @catsnonreplica which posts photos from non broadway productions of CATS! It's a fascinating read and I love, love, love looking at the other interpretations of the characters! CATS is a musical full of fun and wonderful characters if you take the time to see past the ridiculousness haha and the Korean and Japanese runs of CATS especially have some of my favourites.

How does this relate to the movie, I hear you say well. As you might has noticed the movie's interpretations of the characters is........ lackluster at best and downright uncanny valley at best.

CATS is, at its core, a ridiculous thing. I will fully admit that! But it's fun, it's entertaining and if you pay a little attention you can actually get the plot. (Honestly I don't understand when people complain it has no plot but that's a whole other rant for another day)

The movie was... obsessed with this idea of like... semi realism? Like obviously, as a fan, I think they should have leaned into the over the top character designs but instead we got...w ell:

Bombalurina:

Demeter left and Bomba right. Demeter was actually cut! From the movie which is. upsetting lmao.

Macavity is one of the worst offenders for me:

Macavity was... I wish I could know what the hell they were thinking there cuz it's even in his song? Ginger cat??? THAT IS NOT... A GINGER CAT...... but I digress. I would show more examples but I think you get the point.

So. We've butchered the characters appearances. Okay that's fine but what about their personalities?

ALSO BUTCHERED.

There's... there's a lot to unpack here. Just for context: the Jellicle Ball happens once a year and the Jellicle leader chooses a single cat to be reborn into a new life. In the stage play all the cats who are nominated for this honour are on the older side (Jenny-Any-Dots, Bustopher Jones, Skimbleshanks, Gus The Theatre Cat, and eventually Grizzabella) AND are always nominated by another cat. Not themself, unlike the movie where they all seem to nominate themselves.

Jenny-Any-Dots went from a doting grandmother figure who's celebrated for her selfless volunteering and tireless work into a conceited, vain younger cat who is obsessed with fame.

It's an incredibly strange dichotomy. I don't doubt some of it isn't the result of the uh people playing the characters honestly. I do think some of them did the best they could! I don't really blame Jason Derulo, for example, for Tugger. And honestly, Tugger was probably closest to his stage version (while being a trouble maker, he's shown to show Deuteronomy an immense amount of respect)

Speaking of Tugger! This will bring us to one of the biggest grievances with the movie and that is how they handled Mr Mistoffelees.

So... Ugh. So. We have Victoria as the pov character, which imo is like whatever in the grand scheme of things, and then we have Misto who they have decided will be get live interest cuz... Of course. Misto is shown throughout the musical to be awkward, unsure of himself and well. Really, kinda incompetent. Which is Wild cuz in the stage show he might be aloof but he's fairly confident in his powers.

So, Old Deuts gets kidnapped. In the stage show Tugger is the one to bring Misto forward! It's really quite sweet, imo, and I'm showing myself as a Tuggoffelees shipper here, but again Tugger is previously shown to be pretty conceited but then here he is boosting and hyping up Misto to bring Deuteronomy back. My friends and I have lovingly dubbed this the boyfriend hype song.

SOMEHOW. The movie manages to make this, easily, the MOST BORING number in the whole thing. Which, again, WILD. Misto awkwardly stumbles through his whole song, which again is... Boasting of his supreme magical powers which movie Misto clearly. Does not have or believe to have. The song, to me, feels super awkward and unnecessarily drawn out in the movie which sucks cuz it's one of my favourites in the show.

The declawing (heh) of Mr Mistoffelees actually reminds me strongly of how they changed Gaston in the live action Beauty and the Beast movie. He's gone from a beloved figure in the animated movie to someone so disliked in the town that Le Fou has to pay people off to say nice things about him. It's just. Wild character choices were made!!

Skimbleshanks the Railway Cat is probably my favourite in movie non ensemble number. It feels the most... Genuine? Compared to the other nomination songs.

Other problems include but are not limited to:

The inconsistent size scale of the CATS which throws me off constantly.

The weirdly overt sexual overtones added to MANY of the songs (Jenny and Bustopher being the worst)

This is just a personal gripe and opinion but I don't like that they used the UK version of Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer. The American version is both better known and tbh way more fun. Teazer's giggle? Adds ten years to my life every time.

Victoria's added solo song, Beautiful Ghosts, while I like the song as a song it doesn't fit the style of message of the musical. In the movie she's singing directly to Grizzabella who's being an outcast for years that she should be grateful she even has memories of being part of the tribe?? What?? But I know they had to add an original song to be able to be nominated for awards in like the Grammys n shit (which is why all musical movies will have an original song, fun fact!!) kinda funny they went to the effort though considering........... I don't think anyone could have genuinely believed CATS 2019 was gonna win anything but golden rhaspberries.

Movie Mr Mistoffelees has made repeated appearances as my sleep paralysis demon

The various cut characters, shout outs to Jemima, Demeter and Jellylorum especially

Bombalurina being a henchman to Macavity rubs me the wrong way

God I've written... So much. You probably get it by now haha. Like I said at the beginning, I try to go into any adaptation with an open mind but... Let's be honest, this movie wasn't marketed to people who are fans of the musical.

It was marketed, and made, to make money. And they choose to do that through, I think, intentionally making the worst possible version ever. Bad press is still press and the more outrageous people said the movie was the more people wanted to go see exactly what kind of train wreck it was.

Which is a disservice to the stage show, honestly, and all the people who've worked on it over the years.

But what can we do, right?

And besides all that, I do... Still own the movie version and I do still rewatch it on occasion. It is entertaining even if it's in a train wreck kind of way. I usually end up watching the 1998 version, then 2019 and then various tour runs that are on YouTube. (I highly recommend the 2016 tour, it's very good)

So in conclusion. It's fun (?) to watch. I enjoy picking things apart and doing analysis (if you couldn't tell!) so like... I don't hate it?

It did what it set out to do, I guess, and I can't fault it for that but. It's not a fair metre with which to judge the stage show imo. But I know it's not everyone's cup of tea, haha.

Jazz hands. I'm more than happy to elaborate or just chat about CATS if anyone wants! I grew up listening to the Broadway CD since I was a toddler so it's been! A very long standing obsession haha. Probably the only other thing on par with CATS is my obsession with Jurassic Park which I've also been a fan of since I was 3 (but that's a whole story in and of itself)

#astrix thoughts #cats the musical #Thanks for the opportunity to talk about one of my hyperfixations anon!#And to anyone who reads this whole mess lmao

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deliciousdetectivestranger · 4 years ago

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Posting 2nd chapter of my story, do tell me what you guys think.

You are the Mirror of My Soul

“Kit, can you hear me?”

Someone was calling out to him. Kit’s body ached all over while his head kept screaming at him to lie low and safe then act. He should heal himself but he was exhausted.

“Wake up please, Kit.”

This person was persistent and very much inconsiderate to not care about his situation. Kit reached out to grab a pillow whether to bury his head under it or to smother this annoying alarm clock he didn’t know but his hand found grass instead. He went taut as he tried to figure out where he was and suddenly cold wind slapped him in the face as he heard leaves rustle and wings flap.

“Christopher Jonathan Herondale!”

The person shook him and Kit fell into their arms. They were some kind of warrior given on their impressive physique, which made him even more alert until he noted their scent. Wild forest and open sky, a little bit of magic, and a hint of steel made Kit go lax with relief.

“Ash. Ash is that you?”

A shuddering relief went through the person’s body when Kit opened his eyes and stared into familiar green eyes.

“Thank goodness! I was so worried that you might be in a coma.”

“What happened?” Kit asked as he moved to stand up.

“What happened? What happened?” Ash let out a ‘can you believe this guy’ laugh.

“Repeating yourself is not going to answer my question and you will look like someone who has lost his marbles.”

Ash glared at him. “What happened is at the parley you and I fought for the crown of Seelie Court.”

“Yep. I do remember kicking your ass.”

“And then I blasted you with hellfire.” Ash continued as if hadn’t heard Kit. He had quite practice.

“A true fae. Cheating when it wasn’t suspected.”

“We are part-fae and part-shadowhunter. We have to fight with both of our heritages and use them to our utmost advantage. Plus, it’s not like you didn’t use your powers. We arrived here because you teleported us.”

“I was just following your lead.” Kit said with a sweet smile. At Ash’s glare he added, “Okay, you didn’t cheat. You looked for a loophole and used it.”

Ash opened his mouth to say something but a shadow passed over his young face and he sat against a tree with a loud thump.

Kit eyed him and this time asked him in a gentle tone, “What happened after I teleported us?”

“You teleported us nearly 630 feet in the sky. I flew us out with my wings and summoned vines to cushion our landing. I don’t know what happened at the parley but chaos, doubts, suspicion, threats will be high.”

Kit didn’t care about what happened at the parley. He could dwell on it later; Ash was more important.

“Then why are you in such a mood?” When Ash didn’t answer, Kit purposefully began to egg him, “Are you worried what the Seelie court will think? They will think you’ve been kidnapped by me. And the Alliance will think I’ve been kidnapped by you. It’s going to be an amusing blame game and I thoroughly plan on enjoying it.”

“Shut up! I don’t understand how you are finding this funny.”

Kit sat before Ash and took off the golden band, twirling it in his fingers. “I am not hurt Ash.” Ash flinched. “I would tell you if I were and if you had hurt me I would totally make you bow and scrape to my smallest wishes while I recuperate from my wounds." Seeing Ash ignore everything he said Kit continued in a sharp tone, "You listen to me and you listen well.”

“I understood that reference.” Ash instinctively muttered receiving a smile from Kit.

“We were fighting in the parley not as Kit and Ash but as The First Heir and The Seelie Prince. Every bit of it was real from the fight to your hellfire attack and my teleportation. But I know you weren’t ever going to hurt me. You won’t. Ever. And I know this just as you know you won’t ever be in danger from me.”

“You don’t get it. You lay there unmoving and I thought I had gone overboard with my act. I had killed you. I had truly become a Morgenstern, ruining lives of those who love us.”

And that was the crux of the matter. Arawn’s experiments and Annabelle Blackthorn’s maddening devotion had etched into Ash that no one will ever love him for who he was. His mother avoided him, too busy in her plans of uprising and weary of this unfamiliar son. Janus loved him for himself but Ash had realised that Janus' love for Clary was actually obsession which if not stopped would become fatal for everyone, and his love towards Ash was morphing into what Annabelle had showered him for those long years in Thule. He had hated her and he had begun to hate Janus as well but was there anyone in his life who truly loved him?

He had once escaped from the cottage at the Borderlands when Janus had gone to visit the Seelie Queen. He had found himself in the mortal world but it was strange to a boy raised in Faerie and a dystopian AU. Janus had started his shadowhunter training but there had never been lessons on mundanes. Panicked and weary of unknown attacks Ash had quite literally run into the one person on whom his Perfect Love didn’t work. Kit. Ash had been drawn towards this wondrous boy but had soon left for the Borderlands. One thing was clear whatever Kit would ever feel for Ash it would be true but did Ash dare to risk being like Janus and be obsessed with him?

The resolution hadn’t lasted for long with curiosity leading him to Kit again. Kit had been suspicious of him but then he was curious too. They had become acquaintances you didn’t want to meet, reluctant companions because there was something familiar in each other, accomplices against demons and finally friends who laughed, fought, shared secrets such as their problematic heritage (also Ty Blackthorn and Dru Blackthorn. They both had agreed they were in a hopeless situation.) and most of all understood each other better than anyone else.

“Except you didn’t and I didn’t create a shield because I knew you wouldn’t.” Ash turned his head away. “Look at me when I am talking to you Ashton.” Ash glared at him. Kit loved to more syllables to Ash’s name because according to him Shadowhunter names were long so they could be turned into nicknames and they were recognised by those nicknames. So, Kit had to find out Ash’s real name and if Ash found it bothersome, he could just tell Kit his name. It annoyed Ash endlessly but not as much as Kit’s other habit.

“I won’t even ask you to stop as you never listen.”

“Hey! I listen to you just fine.”

“And while we are on the topic, did you have to bring up my age at the parley?”

Kit smiled innocently and those who didn’t know him wouldn’t have doubted him at all. When Emma and Julian had returned from Thule, they had confessed all to the Blackthorns, and Kit, Cristina, Kieran, Alec, Magnus, Jace, and Clary. Their regrouping with Mark, Cristina, Kieran, Clary, and Jace was also discussed in detail. So, Kit had known a lot about Ash when they had first met and one of those things had been that Ash was near to the age of Mina, Max, Rafael, and Tavvy. Bossing Ash around was one of Kit’s favourite things to do, of course when the mood struck Kit also made Ash take the responsibility “because you’ve grown up so much in such short time”. Kit liked to say it was their thing, Ash heartily disagreed.

“Moving on, I know you ever won’t hurt me voluntarily or consciously. Ash, what about me? I have more powers than you. You think I don’t worry.” Ash glanced at him from the corner of his eye. “And if we are going to talk about living up to our last name then remember Herondales go crazy in love just as much as Morgensterns in the thrall of power. Both are dangerous.”

Kit took a deep breath and continued, “You were kept hidden because of your heritage just like I was. Janus may love you now but at first, it was because of Clary. How different is that from me? Tessa and Jem originally took me in because of Will.” Ash made a noise of protest. “Yes, they love me for me now but it doesn’t change that at first, they wanted to protect the Lost Herondale.”

“And if you are plagued by the fact that Perfect Love makes it impossible for them to love you on their terms then remember me. I am here for you. I always will be. Just like you will be for me. I have my fair share of insecurities too, no one had ever loved me until Tessa and Jem.”

“We make such a troubled pair, don’t we? A boy who believes no one can love him genuinely and a boy who believes he can’t be loved.”

“You are a mirror of my soul. Forged by our experiences, expectations of our powers, embodiments of our ancestry but never forget that we chose each other.”

Ash smiled as if the weight of the world had lifted from his shoulder at Kit’s words. Kit placed Ash’s golden band on his own head.

“Gold on gold looks gaudy. You need another metal for your band.”

Kit looked concerned at the idea of not being refined. He looked at the sky and realised dusk had tip-toed on them. He thought back to the mayhem running rampant in Shadow World and sighing wiped the back of his left hand to dispel a simple but quite unbreakable spell. Ash mimicked the action on the right side of his temple. Hidden beneath spells were twin runes.

“Well, then shall we raise hell, my Parabatai?”

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anika-ann · 5 years ago

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For a Smile

Type: One-shot, Reader Insert Word count: 5400

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader, OC x reader (brief)

Characters: Steve Rogers, Reader, OFC, OC

Summary: You see him run past every morning. So you smile, because he looks like a nice person. How could he not be when he smiles back and the world stops for a while to pay respect to such beauty?

And sometimes… sometimes this incredibly handsome man smiles first.

Warnings: mentions and hints of (psychically) abusive relaionship, suggestive themes, swearing, all the fluff in the world

A/N: I used to pass this guy near a café playing music every morning when I went to school and at some point, our eyes kinda met and we smiled at each other; then we did that every day. I kid you not, he’s got the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen. It’s not a Hollywood-star smile, no – it’s a guy-next-door smile, heart-warming, with his eyes simply shining. He’s like a kid on Christmas Day… I could ramble on. Anyway, just so you knew what brought this on.

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A smile costs less than electricity, and gives more light. (Scottish proverb)

Warm honey, sandstone and apricot orange melting into indigo, cerulean blue and stone-grey sky. Merigold playing with salmon and rose pink, teasing each other and making space to the warmer shades of orange.

You watched the beautiful colours of sunrise as you shifted your legs for a bit, causing the simple plank hanging on two tattered ropes sway, a smile tugging on your lips.

It was a little childish really, or it may appear so to anyone who would be passing by; but given what an early riser you were, just so you could watch this breath-taking game of colours, the little miracle of nature, no person could question you as you were dangling your feet off the old swing.

On your way to work, if the time allowed it, you would always make a stop on your favourite spot; a no-name park in upstate New York you were walking through every day, rather calm and drunks-free at the early hour.

Once upon a time, someone had placed a simple swing on one of the trees farther from the path. You sent a silent thank you every time you parked your behind there. You weren’t a monster; if a kid wanted to sit here, you would have gladly (...reluctantly) made space for them, but they seemed to always be more mesmerized by the playground with the actual swings, the chutes, the monkey bars and the sandpit. You couldn’t say you complained though, having the old-fashioned swing for yourself.

It was childish, perhaps; though your mother had once chosen that you should be going into accounting and so you had. Numbers and bills were things even adults hated, but that was what being old enough meant. You didn’t mind it too often, plunging into them for living, but… you needed to compensate, so you felt entitled.

Plus, the motion of the swing was soothing, as if magically transporting you back to your childhood indeed, with less worries, more ease and pure mind.

Yeah, sitting on the swing was your favouri-

Rapid staccato of feet hitting the ground in the distance, no doubt scaring off the birds chiming their morning songs, reached your ears and you had to admit you wouldn’t be completely honest with yourself if you said this was the favourite moment of your day only because of the aforementioned reasons.

There was one more.

It had strong long sweatpants-clad legs, broad shoulders in a sports t-shirt with seams crying for help, blond hair and-

Your heart melted along with your brain as your lips curled up in a genuine smile you sent in return.

-and the most beautiful smile in the whole universe.

You never spoke. Didn’t say hello. You never even nodded in mutual acknowledgement.

You just… smiled at each other.

And that was your favourite moment of the day crafted to perfection. A breath-taking sunrise, almost eclipsed by a mesmerizing display of the row of perfect white teeth framed by plush coral red lips and the twinkle in beautiful inviting eyes of a stranger.

You knew his name despite never exchanging a single word. Everyone knew his name. But Captain Rogers – Steven Grant Rogers – was a name that held no meaning. He didn’t know yours and probably never would; so strangers was who you were. A couple of strangers exchanging a smile every morning and lightening up (hopefully) each other’s day.

It always felt nice when you glanced at someone on the street, then just… somehow smiled and they smiled back, didn’t it? So what if you were an adult woman dealing with numbers for Stark Industries sitting on a swing and he was a deservedly treasured national icon?

It made no difference.

Just two people sharing a tiny piece of their day for a smile.

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“You’re insane,” your colleague stated dryly as she walked into the office at seven thirty, already finding you with an empty coffee cup, your fingers flying over the keyboard.

“Huh?” you raised your eyes from the screen on autopilot, not really paying attention.

You still noticed Harry rolling her eyes; it was just that distinctive.

“I said that you’re insane, you crazy-ass lark. My brain isn’t even awake yet. To be fair, I’m ninety percent sure I met Captain Handsome in the hall along with our boss, so it’s hard to tell if I’m dreaming or not, having a vision like that.”

“Captain Handsome?” you frowned, your mind racing, desperately trying to remember who was Harriet’s newest crush. ‘Captain Handsome’ could be literally anyone.

“Our resident Star-Spangled Man, you dummy. You’re low on caffeine. Or sleep. That’s what you get, getting up in such an ungodly hour…” she hummed, crossing her arms on her chest as she looked at you sceptically, a drop of disappointment in her eyes.

Oh. Oh! That made sense; if the man was with Tony Stark, the range of options narrowed significantly, especially since your friend had called him a captain. Except it didn’t make any sense at all.

“What was he doing here? I mean… since when is he wandering in our department? It’s all across the compound here from the training area.”

“Well, look who’s actually awake and bright-minded…” It was your turn to roll your eyes at your friend. “My point exactly. No clue, but lemme tell you – seeing that ass? Definitely made my day,” she threw over her shoulder as she stalked to the coffee machine and you couldn’t but chuckle at her bluntness.

Your stranger had an amazing smile, that was true. But your gaze did slide elsewhere on occasion too; which was why you would never try to disprove Harry’s claim.

“We might have the Ironman for a boss, but, girl… I’d like to know what Rogers’ ass is made of then,” she added and you burst into another fit of giggles, your face feeling hot all of sudden when your mind unhelpfully supplied with ‘vibranium’.

What would it feel like?

Yeah, you definitely needed to go back to your numbers before your impure thoughts got the best of you.

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The first time you two met outside the park, you were in a bar.

You hadn’t seen him for almost a month, assuming he went on a long-drawn mission; one that had ended well, clearly, since he was out drinking. Just eyeing his companions and instantly noting his body language, you could tell he was suffering. Like, not literally suffering, but it was very much obvious he was not feeling comfortable.

His eyes were drifting all over the place, as Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes laughed loudly, patting his shoulders while a hint or red dusted his cheeks, and then they fell on you.

His face was screaming ‘save me!’; yet, his smile was still as warm and kind as ever, an impossible spark within his irises, visible even from the distance. That twinkle was always the biggest mystery to you, because logically, no person could have eyes so bright, but here he was, proving your claim wrong.

Your lips spread in a smile automatically and encouraged by your second drink, you considered adding a small silly wave.

Before you could execute the decision, the result of your two last braincells arguing whether it would be more silly or sweet, an arm sneaked around your shoulders and your smile widened on instinct at the sensation. You turned your head to Cade and met his lips halfway to yours.

You had been dating for almost a month now and this inconspicuous guy from logistic of a giant company that was surprisingly not Stark Industries was a dream coming true. He was showering you with so much attention you weren’t sure he was real. Late-night conversations via phonecalls or texts, good morning, good night, kisses that lasted long enough for you to forget that you in fact needed oxygen, touches that set you on fire. He was easy to fall in love with.

“Whatcha thinkin’ ‘bout that got you smilin’ so wide, babe?” he whispered to your ear, grazing your earlobe with his teeth.

Gosh, you wanted him. The first sex hadn’t been so great, Cade chasing his own release, but hey, first times were always hard in a new relationship. The more were you excited about your second time and you were confident the second time would happen tonight.

“Nah, just smiling at strangers. You know that feeling, so nice, when you just toss a smile and they smile back?” your eyes found his, only to see him frown.

“I like it better when you smile for me, babe. What did some stranger do for you to deserve that?” he hummed discontentedly, pouting adorably as his hand slid lower to squeeze your hip possessively. It sent a spark through your body, a lightning striking right into your core.

“Just teasing you, Cade. I was thinking about how I lucked out,” you batted your eyelashes and a slow delicious smirk played with the corner of his mouth all of sudden, intensifying the heat inside of you.

“Wanna get out of here, pretty thing? Lemme show you how lucky you are?” he whispered, the pad of his thumb grazing your lower lip, pulling it down a fraction. “Or maybe… show me how much you think you lucked out, huh? How much you appreciate being mine?”

God, yes.

Judging by the glint in his eyes and the hungry kiss that lasted too short – but too long for such a public place – he didn’t need a verbal confirmation. He swung by the bar to pay for your drink and practically dragged you out of the rather crowded space. Your head was spinning a bit and you couldn’t tell whether it was excitement or alcohol. Either way, you really, really liked it.

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“You know that Cade was a dick right?” Harry noted nonchalantly while she handed you a cup of coffee and assessed (correctly) that you were sulking again, thinking back to that one particular night when you had noticed the first sign – or you would have if you hadn’t been such a goddamn idiotic goose of a woman, drunk on top of that.

You sighed and sipped your punishingly bitter dose of caffeine.

You were positively brooding and you didn’t care if it affected anyone else. The world apparently hated you and you couldn’t quite blame it.

Not even your precious strangers-exchanging-smile moments felt the same anymore. First, your stranger had started smiling less brightly after your encounter at the bar and then, even if it had changed, you wouldn’t be able to tell, because you were too wrapped in your own misery. Even the curve of his lips looked sad, which was a stupid thing to say, because he had no way of knowing about either Cade turning out to be an abuser-in-making or about you breaking things off with him and cracking your fragile heart in the process, while yelling at yourself mentally every morning and still longing for Cade’s arms around you since it always felt oh, oh so good to be held…

You recognized the signs early, but not soon enough. You let it escalate into him trying to control when you went out and with whom, him lashing out when you wouldn’t respond to his text in longer than five-minutes time, letting him yell at you when you missed his call… he loved you, after all, he just missed you and was afraid you were with someone else, and oh babe, come here, you can make it up to me…

Your sister had gone through something similar, for god’s sake. You should have noticed sooner. You should have known better. But no, you had allowed your body, your twat to be precise, to rule your brain and that had been stupid.

Cade had tried to get in touch several times after your break-up, even waiting in front of your apartment until you would go out once; you might have threatened him with a restraining order after that particular day and he had stopped quickly after that, only two of three attempts with a new e-mail address and number to get pass you blocking his previous ones.

Still. It made you miserable. And perhaps a bit self-hateful.

You deserved every bitter drop of Harry’s horrible coffee and more.

“I was being blind and stupid,” you opposed and returned to your figures, deciding your exchange was over. Figures were clear enough; they were easy to read and didn’t make your brain drunk on endorphins and other very specific hormones allowing you to act like a teenage girl, excited at her first boyfriend groping her. “Thanks for the coffee.”

A huff sounded above your head and suddenly your swivel chair was being yanked back and turned around, a pair of strict chocolate eyes boring into your soul with startling clarity. Harry’s fingers were wrapped around the armrests as she was leaning into your space.

You backed into your chair instinctively. She looked menacing.

“He was a charming bastard from what I heard and his type always knows how to manipulate people, letting them see what he wants them to see. It’s not your fault. You’re one badass of a woman, smart as hell for noticing before it escalated. You’re my hero. Mine and every other person’s who has ever been in or even heard of an abusive relationship. You can do better than him. It’s a funny coincidence they spelled his name wrong anyway.”

You blinked away your sudden tears, immensely grateful for her words that somehow wormed their way inside your very core (you blamed the intense stare that reminded of your mother’s when she was giving you the kind of talk that was too serious for you to handle) and yet you tilted your head in confusion, not understanding the meaning of her last statement.

“Huh? His… his name?” you stuttered, baffled.

Harry positioned your chair back to its place with a grin and went back to her own business.

“Clearly, they added an ‘E’ at the end. What a stupid typo…” she threw over her shoulder cheekily and when you caught up, understanding her point, you released the first honest laughter in what felt like a year.

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Your life had been set off to better course after that short conversation. You felt like you were healing every day, finding yourself lighter. Happier. Freer of the baggage Cade had tried to left you with. The sensation was indescribable and it radiated from you; some days more noticeably than others.

You found yourself indulging the blond stranger’s smiles once more, finally seeing the spark in his eyes again, the genuine curve of his lips warming your heart and starting off your day in the best way imaginable.

Naturally, life had a reliable means of showing you it could suck.

Right when you thought that you were fine, it delivered another blow; your favourite place in the world… ceased to exist.

Someone put the swing in the park down.

They just… erased it from existence.

Maybe they considered it dangerous. Maybe they were being dicks. Maybe they thought it was old and ugly. It didn’t quite matter.

You could weep, mourning your intimate inanimate friend.

You didn’t cry. But it was a damn close call as you shuffled towards the playground and eyed it sceptically. You knew it wouldn’t be the same and not just because the swings were in a plain sight, but they also looked too fancy, to actually child-like and— they weren’t your swing. Your sanctuary. Your private space. Your secret place you never told anyone about, not Cade or your previous boyfriends, not your family, not Harry or other friends, not to anyone.

You watched the sun rise on the horizon, ridiculously heavy feeling in your chest, ignorant to the rest of the world.

God, you hated Mondays. You already knew this week was about to be a disaster.

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“There’s a swing outside in the green area.”

“Huh?” you hummed distractedly, too deep into figures to register more than the sound of your friend’s voice. What was her name again? What was yours? What day was today? What was the time? Had you already had lunch? Had the lunch-time already passed…?

A chuckle followed by a to-be offended tone responded to your intelligent way of communicating.

“I’m starting to think ‘Huh’ is my name with how often you call me that,” Harry (aha!) remarked with a hint of sass, but repeated herself, because she knew she shouldn’t take it personal that you didn’t quite payed her any attention. You were a person who would get sucked into their own world, too focused on one task to acknowledge anything else. “A swing. In our compound park. It’s kinda cute, hidden from a plain sight though, a simple wooden thing.”

You slowly raised your eyes to hers, your pupils widening with surprise. Your pulse was roaring in your ears, your heartbeat no doubt shaking your whole frame.

Harry was telling you that there was… a swing. In the compound area. Hidden from everyone’s prying eyes, at least partly.

Why?

How?

You could only come up with one ridiculous theory which involved you, but that idea alone was laughable. Why would anyone do that for you? More importantly, how did anyone know-

“You think it’s an invitation for children? Like, is ‘bring your kids to work’ day happening any time soon? ‘cause, not to be rude and greedy, but one swing doesn’t seem like— hey!” Harry called after you, but you could barely hear her as you jumped to your feet, your heels be damned, and strode through the halls with zero regards to anyone in your way.

Not that there was a soul; people actually worked around here, too busy to wander the halls.

The thing was, that one theory about the swing didn’t just involve you. It involved one more person, but that person was a stranger to you and had no reason to even… acknowledge you. Besides the obvious part of your day that no longer existed – not in the way it used to. But the thought was simply laughable.

A different part of your brain raised a figurative sceptical eyebrow, argumenting that you had no better explanation for the phenomenon.

Because… you loved Harry. She knew about your traditional early morning watching the sunrise, but not about the swing. The swing was always a secret, no one knew, except… except one particular guy who always passed you on his morning run and exchanged a smile with you and just happened to work at the very same compound you did and technically had the power to pull the strings to make this happen.

With your heart hammering in your chest, you gasped for fresh air when you finally made it out of the building, your eyes searching for a calm spot, a tree in whose shades you could possibly find a prove of Harry not pulling your leg.

Your heart positively stopped when your eyes fell on the simple plank hanging on two ropes, indeed offering a safe space for anyone who decided to sit there in search for serenity.

You felt tears stinging in your eyes, your feet moving of their own will despite semi-high heels digging into the ground an inch with each step, bringing you closer to that little, yet breath-taking miracle. A chuckle escaped your lips when your trembling fingers brushed the grey ropes, more of your senses acknowledging that this was in fact happening.

Your hand followed the line of the rope, sliding to the plank, only to notice a rough sensation on your fingertips in the corner. A carving, you realized.

Tears of surprise actually welled up when you recognized they were initials. Your initials.

How-- how was that possible?

‘Sit down, you dummy!’ your consciousness cried out exasperatedly. ‘It’s clearly for you!’

“But why?” you asked it under your breath incredulously, thousands of questions ruminating, no answers on the horizon.

Regardless, you reluctantly lowered yourself, shocked when your feet dangled above the ground in precisely the same way they used to-- they used to in the park. It was even installed in the same height.

Reverently, you gave the swing a test-drive, just tiny motions of your feet to try it out.

It was perfect.

Your gaze fell on a sign on the tree trunk, small, subtle and harmonizing with the place without a fault.

Sanctuary of the kind ones. Do not disturb, it read.

You giggled breathlessly, lightheaded and with no care in the world.

That naturally changed when you spotted your very much expectant colleague in the distance, her arms crossed on her chest, figuratively tapping her foot and screaming questions without saying a single word.

The thing is, you thought, I have no idea how to answer.

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Perhaps it was naïve, a child-like trust and excitement, but the next day, you went to your new spot expecting to enjoy the sunrise there and not to be disturbed indeed.

You weren’t.

What you couldn’t quite prepare yourself for was the single daisy lying on the wood, starling you to no end. Hesitating all of sudden, you searched your surroundings, wondering if you interrupted someone else’s plan. Perhaps someone had the same initials as you and whoever made this happen had a different person in mind, doing it for them and the swing was just a funny coincidence.

But then in the middle of your mussing – on the swing, because, screw it, you might as well enjoy this since no one had kicked you out yet – a familiar figure ran past, gracing you with a beautiful smile, once again without a word and with a shy gaze falling to the ground after you met their eyes. With that, it… actually started to settle.

He had done this for you. For some incredible inexplicable reason… your smiling ‘stranger’ offered you a kindness of unseen measures.

And as if it wasn’t enough, you would find a different flower on the wood every day for the whole week. They weren’t even fancy flowers, which made it absolutely magical. Daisy. Tulip. Lilly. No red roses, only cute blossoms, matching the simplicity of the swing.

Harry was nearing the verge of insanity due to your goofy smiles and flowers in your hands; but you remained tight-lipped like an international spy during an interrogation, too afraid that if you said it out loud, sharing that ridiculous impression you were getting these days with anyone, your bubble would burst.

And surely enough, as if you jinxed it mentally, the next Wednesday, no flower waited for you.

It was ridiculous how your mood died instantly. It could have had hundreds of explanations including the one that he went for a mission, because he was Captain Freaking America, in case your stupid heart forgot, but nope, you would still feel the corners of your lips turn down.

You watched the shades of orange bleeding into blue and grey, lost in thought and with unsettling longing in your heart.

You suspected his steps sounded purposely loud when they came from behind you, where you wouldn’t expect them. You didn’t need to see the familiar Nikes on his feet to know it was him; you doubted anyone else would approach you, let alone at such early hour.

Yet you would lie saying your heart didn’t skip a beat when he stopped in his slow tracks by your side, steady feet next to your dangling ones, and you had his identity confirmed.

Your throat went dry and stiff, your voice dying before it could form.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” he whispered reverently, not disturbing the peace of the indeed lovely scenery in front of you.

You didn’t dare to look away from the sunrise as your voice came out unfairly scratchy, a stark contrast to his deep and smooth one that felt like a caress on your skin.

“It is.”

Silence fell on your pair again, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. The birds sung their morning songs, waking up the world and you didn’t think words were needed. Except you owed him something, and you wanted to say it.

Reluctantly tearing your gaze away from the painting by the most amazing artist, the nature itself, you casted a glance at him.

You didn’t realize you had never seen him still; duh, you did know that, but what didn’t quite click in your brain was that you would be able to see him in all his glory, soft smile and an absent gaze framed by long eyelashes, shadows casted all over his face and body, playing games which gave him a surprisingly ethereal aura for a man of his built.

Your stomach tied itself into a knot at the sight and the ‘thank you’ got once again stuck in your throat when his eyes turned to you as well, you breath stolen from your lungs, your lips parting uselessly and curling into a smile on instinct when his did.

Despite seeing the too startling sparkle up close, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the deep blue with a hint of green of his irises. It was just too captivating, locking you in a sweet cage you didn’t feel trapped in, but free and suddenly able to breathe in again.

“Thank you,” slipped from your lips unwittingly, shocking to your own ears.

The very same hint of scarlet you remembered from the infamous bar encounter dusted his cheeks, his smile softening as he turned a bashful gaze away, now fixated on the ground.

“Just wanted to see you smile again. Best part of my day,” he admitted, peeking at you from the insanely long and thick eyelashes and you could melt on spot, dizzying vertigo overcoming you at the sweet words. Good thing you were sitting.

You had no idea how to respond, your heartbeat thumping in your temples, your face feeling too hot and chest pleasantly warm at such admission. Your teeth went to chew on your lip and you abruptly stopped yourself. Bad, bad habit.

“Was… was that the only thing? Because the swing would be more than enough, let alone with my initials, and the flowers-“

“Maybe-“ he softly interrupted your lame attempt at flirting which had turned into a babble, but with same nerves coursing his voice unless your senses were playing tricks on you. A shiver ran down your spine at the realization that he might be as nervous as you were-- the strangest thing in the world, wouldn’t it be? “Maybe I could tell you… over a coffee?”

A daffodil entered your field of vision, happy, bright and yet somehow shy in his big hand and you didn’t think twice before accepting it, your fingers brushing his skin in the process only half-accidentally. Passing you the flower, he offered you a hand so he could assist you in standing up.

Ah, as if he knew your knees felt wobbly and uncooperating with the overwhelming turn of events.

You didn’t hesitate to accept that either. You had a hunch that the manners of a forties’ man would be offended if you didn’t anyway.

“Thank you. Again.”

The twinkle in his eyes shone brighter at your words, his smile widening.

“My pleasure.”

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“If I trip over something, I’ll bully you into carrying me everywhere for the next month,” you threatened in a joking manner as your boyfriend of one year led you through his apartment with his huge palm sprawled over your eyes, while his other gently rested on your lower back, making sure you maintained some balance.

“I wouldn’t complain about that. Are you serious? Because I just might let you trip then…” he teased back and you could hear the grin in his voice, mesmerized by the happy note in it. You would roll your eyes at him fondly, but he wouldn’t see it, so there was no point.

“Don’t you dare…”

“Okay, let’s stop now,” he whispered in your ear, his hand shifting to your hip to squeeze lightly, causing you to shiver. You and Steve had taken your time when it came to physical aspect of your relationship (past certain bases anyway), so a touch like that still sent a delicious electrifying feeling through your whole body.

As if you weren’t excited enough ever since the moment he had told you he had had a surprise for you.

Chewing on your lower lip, you followed his gentle instruction and stopped in your tracks.

“Should I be afraid?” you asked for the fourth time in the past five minutes.

“Terrified,” he confirmed in a joking manner. “You ready?”

Not waiting for your answer, he uncovered your eyes and with a deep inhale, you snapped them open.

Only for your breath to hitch at the sight in front of you.

“Oh my god... it’s beautiful!” you exclaimed, a surprised chuckle escaping past your lips.

In the corner of the living room, soft marigold pillows laid in a circular hammock chair coloured in the indigo of an early sunrise, practically begging for you to jump in and nestle there with a book and relax.

Instantly reminded of how you met Steve in the first place, you couldn’t but spun on your heels and threw your arms around him, strong arms eagerly welcoming you as his chest shook with hushed chuckle.

“Glad you like it,” he murmured, hiding his face in your hair, raising you from the floor effortlessly. “Happy anniversary, sweetheart.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you! Happy anniversary, Steve. This truly is amazing. I love it!”

“But not more than me?”

It was your turn to chuckle as you retreated, placing a kiss on his nose and earning a pout that simply had to be kissed away.

“No, Steve, not even this amazing hammock compares to you. I’ll show you exactly how much I love you in a sec, I just have to test it out,” you promised.

He released you with no protest and watched with a fond smile as you climbed in with a child-like excitement, the corners of his eyes twinkling. He slowly made his way to you as the hammock swung gently with your weight and you sent him a delighted grin as he sat on his heels in front of you, his hands landing on the edges so he had the control over the movements.

“What’s the verdict?” he pried softly and you opened your mouth to respond with enough enthusiasm to power the state of New York for a year; but he continued. ”Is it comfy enough for you to… make you consider- that maybe-- you could… stay here more often?”

Your breath hitched, your throat swelling when you got a pretty good idea of what he was asking from his serious gaze. Yet, you needed to make sure, butterflies in your stomach flipping their wings wildly as you leaned forward, invisible magnets pulling you towards him.

“And by ‘more often’ you mean-“

“All the time,” he whispered, his eyes roaming your face nervously, trying to spy a reaction, read the answer in your expression alone.

You chuckled incredulously, ecstatic at such proposition, and placed your palms to both sides of Steve’s face, grateful for his grip on the hammock and trusting him not to let you faceplant on him with how hazardous the kiss you gave him was.

Your eyelids fluttered close, but you felt his smile as his lips engaged in a tender dance with yours, one of his hands sneaking to the side of your neck to pull you closer, tilting your head as his tongue teased your lips to part.

How could you deny him anything even when you felt like you were about to fall face-down any second? He would be under you when you landed anyway. What more could you wish for-

“I love you,” he breathed to your mouth as he broke the kiss for one damned second that felt like eternity; one second in which you forgot to suck more air in even when given the opportunity. Who needed oxygen anyway? You could breathe Steve in and live blissfully, it was what you were trying to do for the past minute and it was glorious- “That’s a yes, right?”

A chuckle escaped you as you dodged another kiss, his lips landing in your hair instead, the hammock swaying hazardously. Mm, seemed like your supersoldier was too distracted to watch your balance.

“Yes. The hammock totally convinced me,” you teased him lightly, an idea striking you when you said those words. Climbing down as he was still sitting in front of you on his heels, you lowered yourself on him, nestling in his lap and leaning to his ear and sharing your not necessarily filthy thought in a breathless whisper. “But I think I still like sitting right here much better.”

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S.R. masterlist

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Tags: @mermaidxatxheart

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Thank you for reading :-*

P.S. - Keep smiling; at the people you love whenever you can, at strangers and at the person you see in the mirror :))

#marvel #fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fanfiction #mcu #captain america fanfiction #captain america x reader #captain america imagine #reader insert #fluff #one-shot #steve rogers oneshot #captain america oneshot #avengers #captain america #for a smile #anika ann

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ineloqueent · 4 years ago

Note

Hello! I would like to ask for fluff with Joe since you haven’t written for him yet. How about Joe dating/flirting with someone way more quiet and shy than him? A shy! Reader

here’s some fluffy joe for you! i’ve made y/n into a bit of a bookworm, because i’m a bit of one myself, oops. hope you enjoy :)

⭒

Joe had been the first person in your life to understand that being shy wasn’t mutually exclusive with not wanting to be spoken to, that you were human, and craved connection as much as anybody else.

You’d first encountered him at the local hybrid cafe-bookshop, Paracosm. Perhaps that was why you’d been a little more at ease than usual, that day; you knew the place. Paracosm was your favourite haunt, filled with the familiar comforts of tea and yellowed pages, the glittering light bulbs that hung from the ceiling like little planets and kept the atmosphere of the cafe cosy, even on the coldest of days.

Or perhaps it’d been the look of kindliness about him, the slight ginger tint to his hair, the snow dusting his eyelashes, the way he’d shivered and shared a laugh at his own expense with the barista. It was a beautiful quality, to be able to laugh at oneself.

Or maybe it was none of those things at all, and instead simply that he’d smiled at you when he had accidentally made eye contact with you, instead of hurriedly looking away, as most people— including you— did.

“I should’ve worn a warmer jacket, I think,” he said conversationally, and with a start, you realised he’d been talking to you.

Your first thought was why? Why was he speaking to you?

You were sitting by the door, yes, in the spot where you normally did, because the way the bookshelves were positioned by the table ensured that no draft would sweep over you, but just because you were closest to him… Was that why he had directed his remark to you, in polite resolve of the mistake he’d make in looking at you earlier? Or was he speaking to you because he wanted to speak to you?

No, of course not.

But he was still smiling at you, almost expectantly, as though he thought you would reply.

“Wrong day to wear a thin jacket,” you said, and your tonelessness could have been mistaken for hostility. You cursed yourself inwardly; it wasn’t hostility, it was nerves. Admittedly, the man was attractive, and as you already struggled with small talk in the company of people you knew, talking to this auburn-haired stranger turned your words more nonsensical than normal.

But he laughed again, lightly, easily. He had an easiness about him, a simplicity that boasted earnesty and depth, both wit and charm. “You’re right,” he said, simply. “But you look like the clever sort.”

You blinked at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?” you said.

The memory of a smile remained on his face as he told the barista, “A latte for me,” glanced in your direction, then added, “and another hot chocolate for the lady, please.”

Your expression turned further puzzled, and the man said to you, “Mind if I sit down?”

He’d said it so kindly, as though he genuinely cared that you would not be bothered by him taking the seat across from you.

“No,” you managed, “sit down.”

He pulled out the chair and sat down, made as though to take off his coat, then changed his mind, instead wrapping it more tightly around himself.

“You’re reading Shakespeare,” he said.

“Sorry?”

“You’re reading Shakespeare,” he repeated, and you glanced down at your book.

You were reading Shakespeare, but as to why that was relevant, you couldn’t guess.

“And?”

He shrugged. “Call me simple-minded, but if you’re reading Shakespeare for fun, you have to be some kind of smart. You can’t read between the lines if you’re not smart, and most of Shakespeare is between the lines, not in them.”

Pulling your book closer to you, you challenged shyly, “How do you know I’m reading for fun?”

You noticed, as you leveled your gaze on him, that his eyes were a lovely brown, the kind of colour one might wish to sink into, merely to fathom a whisper of the warmth that lay within them. “You were smiling at the book when I came in.”

He’d noticed you even before you’d seen him.

How often did that happen?

The answer was never. You were one to shrink into the corner, preferring to deflect most attention, and careful observation was your greatest asset in this world of loud-talkers and scatter-brained thinkers. You imagined that nothing about you drew the eye.

But you’d drawn his.

A flush touched your cheeks. “That’s embarrassing,” you muttered. You were only half-joking.

That smile was back on his face again.

“I’m Joe,” he said, reaching out to shake your hand.

“Y/N,” you responded quietly, taking his hand. His skin was soft.

“Joe! Latte and a hot chocolate.”

Joe raised his eyebrows at you, then went to retrieve the drinks. Returning, he set down the hot chocolate in front of you.

“You really didn’t have to do that,” you said, avoiding his eyes.

“Oh, but I wanted to,” he winked. “Gotta make a good first impression.”

Your book was a refuge as you glanced down again, the reliable pattern of black lettering stamped into creamy paper offering you familiarity in this unfamiliar situation. You weren’t used to this… interest.

“And anyway,” he resumed, “what I meant to say was, that’s not embarrassing,” he jammed a finger in the direction of your book, “but the fact that I know how to recite the entirety of Macbeth backwards is.”

“Backwards?” you couldn’t help but laugh. “Why do you know how to recite the entirety of Macbeth backwards?”

Joe winced. “See, that’s the embarrassing bit.”

You raised your eyebrows, and with a heavy sigh, he continued.

“It was a bet. I was being stupid and thought it would be a good idea to bet my friend a hundred dollars that I could memorise any play within a week.”

“Okay, that does sound a bit embarrassing,” you conceded. “But still, why backwards?”

“I’m getting there, I’m getting there,” he said, blowing over the surface of his latte, gingerly taking a sip. He recoiled when it was still too hot, wrinkling his nose in an adorably childish manner. “Backwards, because my friend decided to teach me a lesson for being an idiot, and one-upped me that I should learn it backwards. Before I knew it, there was an entire bar-full of strangers chanting for me to do it, on pain of death if I refused.”

You laughed, finally slipping your fingers from your book, closing it gently with the bookmark inside, your attention captured by how this man told stories in such a lively way, the lilt of his voice akin to how one would narrate a fairytale.

“Go on, then,” you said, trying your hot chocolate. It was perfect, as ever. Perhaps a little more so because it hadn’t come out of your weekly budget. And because it had been paid for by a handsome stranger, one who actually wanted to talk to you. “I want to hear some backwards Macbeth.”

Joe’s eyes twinkled. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

“I do,” you answered. But you didn’t, really. And he knew it.

He narrowed his eyes.

When you didn’t flinch beneath his gaze, he began, “Despair thy charm, and let the angel whom thou still hast served. Tell thee, Macduff was from his mother’s womb untimely ripped.” Here, he changed his voice to represent the change in speaker, and you smothered a laugh in your hands at how dramatic his facial expression had become. “Thou losest labor as easy mayst thou the intrenchant air with thy keen sword impress as make me bleed. Let fall thy blade on vulnerable crests; I bear a charmèd life, which must not yield to one of woman born.”

A few more lines, and he had you utterly in stitches; you did not bother to quiet your laughter. Of course, the lines now sounded completely meaningless, but Joe’s sense of humour was as ridiculous as your own, and in deriving pleasure from the ludicrousness of a Shakespeare work read backwards, Joe was more likable to you than ever.

“I believe you, I believe you!” you cried, and his composure crumpled, a grin spreading across his face.

“Thank god,” he said eventually, when the two of you could contain yourselves. “I thought I’d have to recite all of it before you gave in.”

You shook your head, still smiling.

“I would’ve done it, though,” he said, and you felt your chest tighten at the look of earnesty in his eyes.

“You should be an actor,” you told him, and he chuckled, the warmth of the sound warming you.

“I’m glad you think so. I am an actor.”

“Oh!”

“But I’m not pretending I want to be here with you,” he said.

Something like butterflies had fluttered beneath your skin.

He’d returned to Paracosm every day after that, and though he seemed happily surprised each time he encountered you, you weren’t so foolish as to believe that your meetings were actually a coincidence.

As the days went by, you grew more comfortable in Joe’s presence, until you were relaxed enough to begin an argument with him about which of the Brontë sisters was more forward-thinking in terms of women’s rights. Unlike most of the men you’d come across in your lifetime, Joe was perfectly comfortable debating such topics, even going so far as to slag off the more conservative male classical writers of the same time period. The two of you had then pored over the difference between Oscar Wilde’s poetry and his literature, examined the metaphors of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, trawled through the conspiracy theory regarding Shakespeare and whether or not he had really authored all of his own works. The latter conversation had become so heated that other cafe patrons had begun taking their own personal sides on the matter, loudly voicing their opinions until even Paracosm’s baristas had a thing or two to add to the discussion.

“How are you so well-read, anyway?” you’d asked Joe.

“My mom forced me through all of the classics before I was ten,” he’d said with a shrug. In his nonchalance, he became all the more alluring, the humbleness a complement to his personality.

Not many days into the routine of running into you at Paracosm, Joe had asked you to go out with him, properly.

You’d nodded, “Okay.”

“Okay?” he’d laughed, nervously. “You don’t have to go out with me if you don’t want to.”

“No,” you’d shaken your head, adamant that you get your point across. “I want to go out with you, Joe.”

His face had broken into a smile. “Okay,” he’d said, making you laugh, and his smile had broadened until it reached his lovely eyes.

The first time he’d kissed you had been on that first date.

He’d taken you to see a musical, one you’d struggled to pay attention to because Joe kept looking over at you to gauge your reaction to certain parts of the show, laughing with you, smiling when you smiled.

After the show, the two of you had wandered down the boulevard, and as it had been cold, you’d used this as your excuse to hover close enough by Joe’s side that your sleeves occasionally brushed as you walked with your arms by your sides.

You’d been content to walk like that, floundering for breath when his eyes caught on yours, your heart stumbling along its usually steady course. But then, in place of sleeves, his fingers had brushed your fingers, and suddenly you wanted more, to be closer to him in this blistering cold where his touch would surely warm you.

And he slipped his hand into yours.

You could hardly breathe.

“Look,” he said quietly, pointing up at the sky.

Confused, you frowned, but it wasn’t long before you realised his meaning: snow drifted down from above, snowflakes spinning through the air like dancers. It was beautiful, light snow, not the heavy kind, the kind there’d been on the day when Joe had first stumbled into Paracosm, the kind that would warrant a panic about losing one’s way home.

The snow was beautiful, but you couldn’t take your eyes off of Joe.

He stared up at the heavens, his eyes wide with childlike wonder, and for a moment, you lost yourself in watching him, drenched in your own memories of a simpler time.

Snow glittered in his hair, on the shoulders of his coat, on his eyelashes and on his collar. The word ‘angelic’ came to mind.

“I like snow,” he murmured.

You laughed softly. “I can see that.”

He lowered his eyes until they met yours.

You remembered that he was holding your hand.

“And I like you,” he said, a smile finding its way to his lips. His eyes were homely and familiar in his face, the face you’d looked into for so many days now, gazing at him and wondering at how it was really nothing more than a coincidence that the two of you had met. What a wonderful coincidence.

“I like you too, Joe,” you whispered, your hold tightening on his hand.

He lifted his other hand to your cheek, not quite touching you, but close enough to make your breath hitch.

His own gentle exhale tickled your skin.

Tentatively, he asked, “Is it okay if I kiss you?”

“More than okay,” you murmured, already gravitating toward him.

“Okay, because I wasn’t sure, and I wanted to be sure, and I—”

You cut him off, pressing your lips to his as he hummed a soft oh against your mouth and finally, finally pulled you into his arms.

You felt him wrap his coat around you, and you leaned further into him, relishing his warmth in the coldness of the night.

When he pulled back, he combed snow from your hair with the lightest of touches, laughter in his eyes.

“You know,” he said, “you must be more well-read than I am.”

You blinked at him. “What makes you say that?”

“Well, because that was classic, cutting me off.”

You rolled your eyes at the ridiculousness of his joke.

The snow fell more thickly now, but neither of you moved. You simply stood, you with your head nestled against Joe’s chest, Joe with his coat and his arms wrapped around you. His breath ruffled your hair.

“My well-read girl,” he whispered.

⭒

#tina's writing #joe mazzello x reader #joe mazzello #fic

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boytoykevinday · 4 years ago

Note

brock/petey, 9 (“You took all the pillows so I’m using you as one.”) bc i’m feeling soft today

Also requested by @mathewtkachuk!

Prompt from here: “You took all the pillows so I’m using you as one.” Word count: 1.6k Rating: Teen Tags to note: established relationship, pillow forts, rainy day fluff Other: This is just soft, that’s all it is. It’s soft and fluffy and so, so indulgent. Not properly edited but it is just a prompt.

Being with Brock - loving Brock - was the easiest thing he’d ever done, easy as breathing. But sometimes Brock would look at him like this, with reverence that he didn’t deserve, and his breath would stutter in his chest.

“I’d love to build a pillow fort with you,” Brock smiled, pressing a kiss to his nose.

Rainy days in Vancouver weren’t uncommon; it was Vancouver. That was what Vancouver did. It rained. But thunderstorms were rare, and even rarer than that were thunderstorms on one of their days off.

“Brock,” Elias said, prodding him awake none too gently. “Brock, wake up.”

He groaned, rolling on to his back. “Pete, it’s our day off. Let me sleep in for once.”

Elias grinned and lay down on top of him, effectively using his body weight to pin him to the mattress. Brock was soft beneath him, pliant from sleep, and he was almost tempted to say fuck it; sleepy morning sex with Brock was one of his favourite things, and they didn’t get the chance often. But he had plans, and unfortunately those plans didn’t involve sleepy morning sex in his - their - bed. Maybe - definitely - soft afternoon sex, but sleepy morning sex would have to wait for another day.

“Why are you being so mean?” Brock groaned, blinking the sleep from his eyes.

“I have plans.”

“Do those plans involve me sleeping?”

Elias shook his head with a grin, reaching with one hand to smooth down Brock’s rather spectacular bedhead.

“Do we at least get to have sex?”

“It's raining,” Elias said. “Thunderstorm.”

“That didn’t answer my question.”

“Emil and I used to make a pillow - fort? - when there were thunderstorms,” Elias shrugged, now slightly embarrassed. “I know it’s stupid but -”

The smile Brock sent him was achingly soft; he had to close his eyes for a moment, had to take a deep breath.

“I’d love to build a pillow fort with you,” Brock smiled, pressing a kiss to his nose. So fort was the correct word. “One condition.”

“What?” ‘One condition’ was always dangerous; Brock could mean anything.

“Cheat day?” Brock said pleadingly. “I want hot chocolate.”

Elias rolled his eyes. “Of course we have hot chocolate, it would not be a pillow fort without hot chocolate.”

“Marshmallows?”

“I don’t think we have marshmallows.”

He kissed Brock’s pout away, ignoring his morning breath.

“You are on pillow duty. I will get blankets.”

“Pillow duty’s the hard part,” Brock whined

Elias stuck out his tongue. “If you had woken up earlier maybe you could do blankets.”

“I hate you.”

“You don’t. Brush your teeth so I can kiss you.”

“Fort sex?” He sounded hopeful, puppy dog eyes lethal.

Elias rolled off of him and turned to leave.

“That wasn’t a no,” Brock called after him.

It definitely wasn’t, but Brock should at least brush his teeth first. And they couldn’t have fort sex without a fort.

“Oof, Petey, you’re pretty serious about your pillow forts,” Brock said as he shuffled the sofas around. Elias wasn’t watching the way his biceps bunched instead of moving his own furniture, of course not. He was a professional. He could leer at his boyfriend later (one look wouldn’t hurt, though)(he was only human).

“You have met me, yes?”

“Ugh, you’re right. I shouldn’t be surprised.”

It was coming along nicely, Elias supposed, even if it wasn’t even close to his and Emil’s calibre of fort, but nothing could beat those. There was the familiar pang of homesickness in his chest that he felt whenever he thought of home and his family, but then he looked over at a struggling Brock, and the pain lessened.

Because Brock was home too; as long as he had Brock, he was home.

Brock, who helped him whenever his English was poor and never complained when Elias asked him to repeat himself because he’d missed a word, who always did his best to use relatively simple language and talked slow enough that Elias could understand without feeling like he was being talked to as if he were a child; his English was better now, but it wouldn’t have gotten there without Brock’s help.

Brock, who didn't even question why he had to move around furniture on his day off, who trusted Elias so completely that all he had to do was ask and Brock would agree and go along with it.

“Blankets?”

“No, idiot. Pillows first.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Master Fort Maker,” Brock said with a deep bow.

“What, you never made a fort with your family?”

“I mean, I guess we did,” he shrugged. “But nothing like this.”

It was turning out to be more of a pillow castle, if Elias was honest. But pillow forts could get stuffy and cramped if they were too small, and he was planning on spending the whole afternoon in there, so he couldn’t have it be stuffy.

“Emil and I are very competitive,” Elias explained.

“Did one of you do blankets and the other pillows and have a competition for which was better?”

“So you aren’t just a pretty face.”

“Aw, you think I’m pretty?” Brock batted his eyelashes at Elias, who just shook his head. Brock paused to think for a moment before his eyes widened. “Wait, hey! I’m totally more than just a pretty face! I went to college!”

“So did Gauds,” Elias pointed out.

Brock face-washed him. “Whatever. Split pillow and blankets with me? Fifty/fifty. We’re not competing, we’re a team.”

Elias gasped and cupped a hand around his ear. “Hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“It’s the sound of Bo crying because he’s proud of us for our incredible teamwork.”

Brock tackled him to the sofa, stifling his cackle with one of the remaining throw pillows. He had almost fifteen kilos on Elias, but Elias was used to being slight and managed to flip them and get his fingers underneath Brock’s ribs where he was most ticklish. His laugh turned into a giggle, as he struggled to get away. Eventually he stopped trying to fight back, though, choosing to stare up at Elias in the way that hurt to look at.

It was all he could do but stare back.

“Kiss?”

“One kiss.”

Brock grinned widely, because it was never just one kiss.

Elias rubbed their noses together once, before doing as he was asked.

If there was something he loved more than kissing Brock, Elias had yet to find it. Sex with Brock was great - the best he’d ever had - but he could kiss Brock for hours without growing bored. They didn’t have hours, though, and Elias was on a mission.

“Pillows now,” Elias gasped, pulling back. “Kissing later.”

“Petey,” Brock whined. “You’re so mean to me.”

“You like it.”

“Fifty/fifty?” Brock said again, ignoring Elias’s comment because they both knew it was true.

“Fifty/fifty.”

Pillow duty was easier than blanket duty, and it didn’t take long for them to finish placing them exactly where Elias wanted them.

“I think we should take a break because we did so well,” Brock huffed, standing up straight with his hands on his hips.

“No breaks.”

“Why not?”

“Because I know you. If you take a break you won’t want to start again.”

“Fine, fine,” Brock sighed. “Blanket time?”

“Blanket time.”

Blanket time took longer than pillow duty, and by the end there were rubber bands involved, and a multitude of heavy objects holding down heavy duvets.

“I think she looks good,” Brock nodded, hands back on his hips.

Elias hummed and hawed. “She’ll do.”

“She’ll do?” Brock answered in outrage. “She’s a beauty, the most beautiful pillow fort I’ve seen in my life.”

“Are you going to leave me for a pillow fort, Boeser?”

He sniffed. “I doubt she would be so mean to me.”

“Go make hot chocolate, I’ll finish up.”

By the time Brock was back with two mugs of steaming hot chocolate - he hadn’t managed to find marshmallows, but there was more whipped creme than their diets allotted for - Elias was already in the fort.

“We left spots inside for our mugs, right?”

“Right,” Elias nodded, grabbing both mugs and setting them down inside the fort while his boyfriend climbed in.

He ignored the space left for him to climb on top of Elias, shuffling around until his head was tucked under Elias’s chin.

“Comfortable?”

“Very,” Brock sighed happily. “You took all the pillows, so I’m using you as one.”

“I didn’t take all the pillows -” Elias protested, laughing slightly.

Brock shushed him. “Pillows aren’t supposed to talk.”

“I guess pillows aren’t supposed to give blowjobs either.”

Brock immediately sat up as much as he could in the relatively small space. “Wow, that spot next to you suddenly looks very comfortable, isn’t that funny? I don’t need a pillow anymore!”

Elias rolled his eyes, tugging him back to his chest. “Drink your hot chocolate first.”

“Then blowjobs?”

“Then blowjobs.”

Brock did sit up then, but just enough to drink his hot chocolate.

“I don’t want to make a mess of the fort, we spent a lot of time on it,” Brock said after a moment of sipping at hot chocolate and listening to the rain, eyebrows drawn together. He seemed genuinely worried about getting jizz in their pillow fort; Elias loved him so intensely it hurt.

“I’ll swallow, it's fine,” Elias waved away.

Brock choked on his hot chocolate. “Jesus Christ, Elias.”

Elias just hummed and listened to the crack of thunder outside. This was definitely a good way to spend a day off.

#vancouver canucks #canucks #brock x petey #elias pettersson #brock boeser #rpf #hockey rpf #canucks rpf #my fic #prompt fill #pattyrosyteeks

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