#theliongrant

[peace-love-piper]

I want the k!

8. Eyelid Kiss

Piper was sitting on the wide windowsill in her dorm room. It was late—must have been past midnight, at least—and a full moon was high in the sky, bathing Piper in soft white light that shone in through the window. Loxley was fast asleep in her bed and all was quiet except the sound of his measured breathing; still, Piper was restless, like there was something she should be waiting for—

Three quiet raps on her door made Piper turn her head, so soft she was sure she wouldn’t have heard them if she’d been asleep. She padded lightly across the room and opened the door to find Grant on the other side staring at his feet, trembling, hugging himself anxiously.

“P-p-piper…” he whimpered apologetically. Piper’s brow crinkled with concern and she took one of his hands between both of hers, preventing him from wringing them together as he was. A shooting cold sensation shot up immediately through her fingers to her elbows, like she’d dunked her arms into icy water. Stress. Fear.

“What’s wrong, babe?” Piper whispered softly, squeezing Grant’s hand through the stinging cold. When he looked up he didn’t answer, gaze fixated instead on something past Piper, something far beyond her. She glanced over her shoulder to follow his line of sight and realization dawned; Of course, the full moon.

Piper led the Gryffindor into her room, straight to her bed where she lifted up the comforter in an offering for him to get in. There was plenty of room on the bed despite the fact that Loxley was taking up almost half of it; Piper and her roommates had been transfiguring their beds bigger for years (they were Ravenclaws, after all). Grant climbed in and inched awkwardly toward Loxley’s unclothed body—just close enough to be right next to him but not close enough that they were actually touching—and Piper climbed in after him and folded the blanket back over them. When they laid down Grant hugged tight around her waist, filling Piper with tingly energy, his head resting on her chest despite his standing height advantage over her. Piper wrapped one arm around his shoulder and used the other to run her fingers lightly through his hair, cooing comfortingly until she felt his breathing become less panicked and his muscles untense slightly. He smelled buttery and sweet, like freshly baked cookies.

Just when she thought they might drift off to sleep, the slightest howling sound echoing from somewhere far away made Grant squeeze Piper tight—it was so faint and distorted that it could have easily been the wind, unless you knew what you were listening for. Piper shimmied down until she was eye-level with the Gryffindor, who was squeezing his eyes shut and mumbling silently to himself. Piper pressed a light kiss to each eyelid and then whispered pointedly, “He’s going to be just fine, okay?” Grant’s brown-sugar-colored eyes opened and searched Piper’s face; he seemed to concentrate hard before finally he said, “Thank you.”

Piper smiled warmly, and then said, “Oh, don’t thank me yet…”

“Wh-why?”

“Because you’re sleeping next to Loxley, and he kicks.”

[tylermagnusenvest]

I want the K

3: Nose Kiss

“You’re doing better than you think.”

It was nearing Christmas, everything in London was bright and festive, you couldn’t go to a cafe without a variety of winter specials being not-so-subtly pushed in your face. He’d like to say he resisted but alas, his hot chocolate had a cinnamon twist and he’d paid extra for the frothed topping and tiny snowman marshmallows too. Still, his was half the size of the steaming mug in front of the Gryffindor, and while Tyler had settled for a scone on the side, Grant was only quarter of the way through a large slice of yule log- decorated with tiny candy holly leaves and everything. The younger boy swallowed the mouthful he was chewing and gave a small shake of his head.

“I don’t know,” His voice was sheepish, uncertain. “It’s harder work than I expected- not that I didn’t think you worked hard last year, just that... j-just that it’s a lot.”

“I know but you’re doing fine, I can tell.”

“You’re not even there.”

That was true, since leaving the castle Tyler hadn’t been back at all, he had no real reason to, but he hadn’t lost contact with all who resided in it. He hadn’t expected to spend any of his summer with Grant after graduation, let alone a large chunk of it, but when the boy expressed his uncertain, but determined, desire to be a prefect the following year it had just happened. It had largely started as early prep work for NEWTs, it was a lot to study and be a prefect at the same time so Tyler had offered to tutor the boy over the summer and get him ahead in a few of his subjects. Somewhere along the way things had been less about studying and more about just seeing each other, he wasn’t entirely sure when exactly but Grant went from being someone he knew nothing about to his friend over the holiday weeks. It had been a constant letter exchange when Grant returned to Hogwarts, Tyler was surprised but delighted to hear he’d skipped over being a prefect and been offered the Head Boy position instead, and so the last few months had been a nice mixture of letters that sought advice or were merely ramblings about any subject that seemed to come up.

“I don’t have to be,” Tyler concluded after a moment, taking a sip of his drink before twisting in his seat. His stool, set higher than other seating in the cafe, was barely a foot from Grant’s and the shift had their knees knocking together. “It’s hard work but you keep doing it, and you keep writing to me about it. I know it’s not easy and sometimes it feels as though you get put in that position and the way other people see you changes, you become someone else with all these other responsibilities, I don’t think anyone in the position is ever sure of whether of not they’re doing the best job but I assure you, you’re doing fine. You care, Grant, which is the most important thing.”

At some point, while he was talking, heat had risen to the boy’s face and dusted everything from his neck to the tips of his ears with a rosy pink. Tyler couldn’t help but smile, shaking his head a little, it hadn’t been his intention but it wasn’t a bad outcome.

“That’s easy for you to say,” Voice a mumble, Grant ducked his face and took a long sip from his drink, un-phased by the smothering of cream atop.

“No, it’s really not.”

Tyler had put so much of his time into being Head Boy the previous year, and even more time into being a prefect the two years prior. He had worried about it endlessly, who would take over after him and if they’d be willing to give as much, and Grant wouldn’t have always been his first pick. It took confidence and determination to be a prefect, let alone a Head Student, and Grant had always been so gentle and vulnerable to the world. Tyler knew he had the heart for it, would have no trouble caring about the position he was given, but it was a lot to deal with and he had worried such pressure would be too much for the younger boy. Things had changed though. Grant had. It was small things, things Tyler could hardly put words to, the boy was still so quick to flustered and held doubts about his abilities but over the last few months he’d felt the other’s enthusiasm for the role he’d been given. Even today, as the boy had spoke of the past few months, there was an obvious pride in all the challenges Grant had managed to face as of late and Tyler was pleased for him. Dare he say, he greatly admired the person Grant was becoming.

When the boy put his mug down again, unsurprisingly, there was a big smudge of cream across his top lip.

Tyler opened his mouth to say something but Grant spoke instead.

“I do care, but that’s... I was worried it wasn’t enough and with everything else- with classes and organising all these extra things- when things don’t go right it’s just awful, or at least it feels awful to me and-”

No, he couldn’t stand it any longer, leaning forward Tyler caught the boy’s chin with his forefinger and tilted his head towards him. He offered a small smile as he ran his thumb over the boy’s top lip in one gentle swipe, collecting the cream from his skin and releasing his chin only so he could suck the froth from his thumb. Grant’s face was bright red.

“Sorry, I am listening, keep going.”

“I- ah, well, it’s j-just,” He was looking down now, avoiding Tyler’s eyes and stumbling over his words. It was awfully sweet. “Just, coming from you... from you it means a lot b-because you’re you and you’ve, erm, you’ve just always been...”

Fuck it.

Sitting forward in his seat again, resting an elbow on the table, Tyler placed his other hand on the boy’s knee and, when his words halted, closed the space between them and kissed him. Or almost. Grant kept glancing down at the floor, so flustered and stuttery, that was intended as a kiss ended up a brief peck on the corner of his nose instead. Tyler laughed, unable to help himself, as the boy grew impossibly more flustered, looking up then with his mouth opening and closing but no words coming out.

“That wasn’t where I was aiming,” Tyler confirmed, voice soft. He searched the boy���s face for a moment, the look of surprise on it, before he sat back in his seat and moved both his hands to wrap around his cup. His shoulders pulled up in a shrug when he added, “I’ll try again later.”

Lest he embarrass the boy too much.

It took Grant a moment to find his voice again, looking to the floor and stabbing his fork into his cake absentmindedly, quiet when he whispered back, “Ok.”

[bellamy-adler]

{A caramel brown owl lands gracefully on the end of Bellamy's night stand. The message goes to her leg has clearly been folded and re-folded several times. The message reads:} Your hair looks sexy pushed back. -G

Bellamy easily recognizes Grant’s owl and hands her a treat before pulling the parchment from her leg.  Polly leaves immediately without waiting for a response.  He rolls his eyes when he reads the message and looks towards the Gryffindor table, waiting until Grant looks up bashfully, then winks and runs his fingers through his hair to push it back.

[giggle-me-this]

i want the k! (xi)

7. Romantic Kiss

((Muggle London, sometime in the significant-but-not-all-that-distant future, plausibly but not definitively canon so for now we’ll say AU))

“So, what can I get you?”

It was a question that Nate asked a lot, these days—and by a lot he meant an absolute metric fuckton. It tumbled out of Nate’s mouth without him even having to think about it, just like the other dozens of times he said it every night, with his sleeves rolled up and his elbows on the bar, in a tone that was inviting and confident but still a bit enigmatic, enough to entice the customer into buying top shelf liquor in the hopes of impressing Nate but not enough that they would hang around all night and proposition him when he got off.

Which—yeah, it did still happen, and he couldn’t really complain about it. He’d been told it was just something that happened to all bartenders—which is what Nate was now, and his pride only suffered a little to say it, at this point. It took a long and begrudging amount of time to get here, but Nate couldn’t deny that he kind of liked working at a bar. A No-Maj bar, no less, seeing as Nate was blacklisted from every establishment in the wider wizarding world that had ever even thought the words Giggle Water—which, it turned out, was everywhere.

And it wasn’t just that Nate was good at it, because he was. Life experience had given him an encyclopedic knowledge of all types of liquor and exactly how every sort of drink was prepared. Though he would never, ever admit it, Nate even knew an impressive amount about how ingredients would taste and react when they were mixed together—thank you, Tyler Envest—which earned Nate the absolutely laughably absurd monicker of mixologist around the bar; what a fucking joke. His hands when he worked moved with intuitive, easy confidence, and so beguiling that no one ever noticed when he moved his long fingers just so and a little touch of magic sparked out that made a drink just a little prettier, or just a little sweeter, or just that little extra something that ended up getting Nate more tips.

And Nate got a lot of tips; another perk of the job that he somewhat enjoyed, he had to admit. It’s not like Nate didn’t know he was very attractive—maybe that was pure Pinnock arrogance, or whatever, but Nate didn’t really have much left of that old life except his good looks, so fuck if he wasn’t going to own it. And it’s not like he looked the same as he did back then, either. His hair was a bit longer; dark and curly and pretty now that he didn’t fuss with it so much. And he seemed to have somewhat grown into his height, finally, with all his features shifting from lanky and boyish to slim and refined; not that Nate had even tried to make it that way, which was possibly even more annoying.

So it wasn’t as if he didn’t notice and even take some smug pleasure in the way that people would sit at the bar and watch him, automatically, like their eyes couldn’t be drawn to anything else; watch his hands move and his mouth move. Which was the thing that Nate really enjoyed about this job. In some parts of town, even now, even after all these months of letting the dust of scandal settle, he was still Nathaniel Pinnock, disgraced former billionaire and pretentious asshole that rubbed everyone the wrong way.

Whereas here, in a nothing bar in nowhere No-Maj London, Nate could be anybody. And often, he was. People would sit at the bar and they would ask Nate about himself, and Nate would do what he really did best, what had always come most naturally to him. He’d put that silver tongue to work, spinning stories out of nothing, fairy tales and adventures and thrillers and tragedies, whatever struck his fancy. Nate would talk and talk and talk and by the time he was done he’d have a captivated audience, on the edge of their barstool, eyes wide and enthralled and filled with desire and need, and that’s when Nate would be coy and casual and shrug off the attention like the person he was a year ago never would have, and that’s when stupid people spent a lot of money.

It wasn’t just about the money, though the money was good; Nate did like the attention—how could he not? And sometimes, even, on late nights when Nate, despite his best efforts, drifted down into that dark and lonely and horribly needy place that he had mostly trained himself to suppress, he would give in. Some nameless stranger that didn’t know Nate at all would brush up against him with intent, having stuck around until Nate got off, and Nate would give in. He would let himself be weak and fill that selfish cavernous hole inside himself for just a little while and he would feel; but never so much that he couldn’t just as easily forget, after.

Because the truth was there was someone who did know Nate, more truly and deeply than he could have ever expected anyone to want to know him, let alone actually achieve. More than Isaac, though not for as long. More even than Harriet, which was an anomaly in his life that Nate had only just begun to wrap his head around.

They’d been through hell and back to get here, but Nate wouldn’t trade anything for the cherished closeness he shared with Xiomara, here and now.

And Nate wasn’t saving himself for her, or anything fucking idiotic like that. It’s just that Nate had spent his whole life acting in a way he thought he should—sometimes for other people, mostly for himself—and with Xiomara he just didn’t have to think so much. He didn’t have to think at all, really. He could go out into the world and be whoever he had to be, and when he came back to Xi he could just be entirely, fundamentally himself, always.

It was a friendship more than it was anything else—perhaps the most real and uncomplicated actual friendship that Nate had ever had. Which didn’t mean that his traitorous thoughts didn’t try to complicate things for him, often. He’d thought about kissing Xi a hundred times; not in an actual expectations-of-reality way, but—had he thought about it? Of course he had, how could he not?

Xiomara didn’t look the same either. Not to him, anyway. Nate had spent so much fucking time with her, noticing so many frankly ridiculously attractive things about her—which, yeah, was maybe kinda weird from an objective point of view, and Nate would be mortified to find out that she noticed him doing it, but how could he help it, really? He noticed the elegant curve of her wrists when she held her wand or poured coffee from the french press or typed on her typewriter. He noticed how round her bottom lip was but how she would never deign to actually pout—Merlin forbid—and how the upside-down arch of her lip would pucker in at the edges of her mouth and twitch when she was trying very hard not to smile.

So yes, he’d thought about it, but there were just as many reasons why Nate wouldn’t kiss her; Nate had fucked up a lot of things in the past but he was determined not to fuck up this one, not when they’d worked so hard—together and in parallel—to pull themselves back up from absolute zero and slowly, painstakingly, build something real and solid with their lives that was cemented with trust in each other. There was absolutely a time when Nate would have blown up something pure and good that he had for something ludicrous like lust, but he’d changed enough that he wasn’t dumb enough to wreck the one solid thing he had. He wouldn’t.

And even despite the fact that him and Xi had developed a kind of casual intimacy that came along with being very comfortable and living together for a while. Like that night, when Nate had his feet propped up on the coffee table and Xiomara was laying in such a way that her legs draped over his lap. It didn’t mean anything, really; sometimes it was just nice to be close to someone without it meaning anything, and that was fine. Just like it was fine that there were many times that Xi did not want to be touched, still; these moods were impossible to predict but Nate could read her body language enough to know when they were happening and keep his distance without being a moody little baby about it. Though it still filled him with real hurt for Xi every time he would make an idle gesture, nowhere near her, and Xi would get that flash of panic in her eyes. It was something he couldn’t heal for her, and didn’t try to; all Nate could do was try his best to be comforting in the way that she needed at any given moment.

That night it was Xi’s turn to pick a movie, after Nate had ‘subjected her’ (her words) to Gangs of New York the previous movie-night. For some reason Xiomara had been on a bit of an old movie kick—which, yeah, kinda snore—but classics were classics for a reason and at least she was getting a solid education on the History of American Cinema.

Tonight she had picked Gone with the Wind—which again, ugh, but Nate had learned quickly enough that if they were going to avoid a fight (though truth be told, they never went all that long without some stupid bickering argument, anyway…) then it was best to keep his mouth shut and his many cinematic opinions to himself when it was Xiomara’s night to choose.

About halfway through the movie, when Scarlett was back in her deserted hometown of Tara and was truly starting to feel the hardships of her destitution, Xiomara, after going a long while watching quietly except for the crunch of popcorn, suddenly said, “Bit relatable, wouldn’t you say?”

Nate made an oh really kind of scoffing sound and replied, “You fancy yourself a Scarlett O’Hara, do you?”

To which Xi looked over at him without missing a beat and said, “No bitch, you’d be Scarlett.”

Nate laughed and only faked being affronted for a minute or so before he said, “Okay, yeah, that tracks.”

Xiomara smirked, and her eyes glittered in that mirthful, self-satisfied way that they did when she knew very well that she’d said something clever, thank you very much. Her eyes were a strikingly similar hazel color to Nate’s, he’d also noticed, except that hers had these radiant specks of gold in them that caught the light when Xi was amused, in a way that could knock the air out of a person—but only if she herself allowed you to see it. Nate looked away, back at the television screen, smiling and trying not to think about crazy stupid things like the color of Xiomara’s eyes.

And he did a pretty good job of it, too, except that every time the music in the movie had a big dramatic swell and Scarlett O’Hara would have some cheesy, screen-worthy romantic kiss, Nate noticed in his peripheral vision that Xiomara would rest her delicate fingers in that puckered indention at the corner of her lips. And her eyes would flicker for a half-second in Nate’s direction, in a way that suggested she absolutely did not know he noticed what she was doing—or perhaps, on the other hand, suggested that she knew more about his hidden looks than she let on.

It was a silly, thoughtless gesture that likely meant nothing.

But maybe—just maybe—she’d thought about kissing him, too.

And Nate didn’t let himself cling onto too much hope, anymore, for things he would probably never have and would be perfectly okay with not having.

But maybe? With Xiomara, maybe was enough.

[theisaacortega]

★ (Xiomara)

I like you // I love you // I’m indifferent toward you // You’re one of my best friends // You’re like family // You are family // I dislike you // I hate you // I’m jealous of you // I’m scared of you // I would adopt you // I’m attracted to you // I’d date you // I’d sleep with you // I’d marry you // I’m worried about you // You confuse me // You’re annoying // I respect you // I want your respect // I feel protective of you // I’d like to cut loose with you // You’re good-looking // I’m suspicious of you // I’m hiding something from you // You’re fun // You’re boring // You’re nice // You’re mean // You’re smart // You’re stupid // I think you’re a better person than me // I think I’m a better person than you // I want to apologise to you // I want an apology from you // I wish I’d never met you // I never want to forget you // I want to get to know you better

[killianwood-blog]

[Owl] I'm not feeling well. Plus Polly could use the exercise. I can just give it to her to bring back if you wang.

[Owl] Not feeling well?! Wait for me then, I’ll come down. I might know just what you need!

[reyna-moreira]

Lion Pride 🦁 | Group Chat 📱

@ares-kane @gilanavelluto @theliongrant @harrietpnnock @aherahex @nmorandi @reyna-moreira @ryderrklausen [please do not erase]

ME: friends

ME: idiots

ME: young cubs

ME: welcome to the group chat.

ME: mug shots tonight. no excuses.

[quentinsheridan-blog]

Quentin often visited the owerly, it was considered weird, but it reminded him of home. Heck, even some of the owls there were raised on the Sheridan farm, identifiable by their owl-friendly tag. He had just reached the top of the stairs when he realized that he wasn’t alone. It wasn’t unlikely for someone to be in the owerly, but something in his gut lead him t guess who was around the corner. 

As he turned and entered through the stone archway, he pulled a hand out from his pockets an gave a small wave. “Hey Grant.” He’d normally ask how the other was doing, but after the recent events, he felt like he knew how the other was doing and at the same time, Quentin was already annoyed by everyone asking him how he was doing, he didn’t want to annoy Grant. “What you up to?”

@theliongrant

[bellamy-adler]

@theliongrant

[killianwood-blog]

[Owl] The silver one. You know, the one we were talking about? When can I drop it off?

[Owl] Grant, my dorm is literally above yours. Why don’t you come and knock on my door? Like, now for example...

[killianwood-blog]

[Owl] You left your necklace in my bag by accident. Do you want me to drop it somewhere for you?

[Owl] Hey, little cub! My necklace? What necklace? I don’t know what you’re talking about... :)

[bellamy-adler]

@theliongrant

“This place is a mansion! You didn't tell me it was a mansion!” Grant admired the nice things in the house, feeling very out of place in his sandals, shorts and t shirt. He should have worn something nicer. Grant clutched his beach bag, looking back at Bellamy. “Is your house like this too?”

Bell had said that this was his brother’s vacation house. A nice place by the beach, he had said. He'd called it chill. Grant was pretty sure this sitting room was bigger than his whole house.

Bellamy was dressed much the same, in shorts and sandals and an over the top tropical shirt that his older brother threw at him that morning when Jayden saw him dressed too formally for a summer vacation. “This is just my brother’s vacation house. It’s a bit smaller than the house I grew up in,” but the decorations were less stuffy and obviously more influenced by his brother’s style. The size of the house didn’t affect him the way it did for Grant. Grant’s house was modest and homely in a comforting way but Bellamy couldn’t imagine ever living with his family in a home that cramped. The more space, the better.

“So, we can put our things away and then maybe go check out the beach if you want. Follow me.”

Grant gave an interested hum. He wasn't really sure he wanted to see Bell's house based on what he'd heard, but the descriptions were interesting. Gave him perspective.

He grinned at Bellamy's idea, nodding eagerly. “We need to put on suncream too. You’d probably look nice tanned but I'd look like a fried tomato if I so much as blink at the sun without wearing it.” Grant toddled along, following Bell and putting down his stuff where he was shown.

He rummaged through his bag and found his suncream, then started rubbing some on his face. “Do you reckon we'll see a shark?”

Bellamy rolled his eyes. “It’s not even that sunny today. We don’t need it.” If he started to feel his skin baking, then he’d put some on, but at the moment it felt like an added inconvenience when all he really wanted to do was cool down in the water and relax.

“Hopefully not,” Bell mumbled as he put his bad down beside the bed and opened it to find him swim trunks. “Do you actually want to see one?” Bell asked with a curious grin as he looked up from his tasks to tilt his head at his boyfriend. “Are there any other adventurous plans for this summer?”

Grant pursed his lips to stop himself from telling Bellamy sun damage could happen on a cloudy day. He continued putting his own suncream on. “... Maybe. It's be pretty cool to say we swam with a shark.” He grinned right back at Bell, then noticed he wanted to get changed, so he turned politely. Even though they'd seen each other many times in the past he didn't want to stare. “I was hoping to go to the Witch Weekly festival. But tickets are so hard to get and there'd be… a lot of people there. A lot of unknowns.”

“I’ll leave the swimming with sharks for you. I’d rather pretend they don’t exist.” Bellamy shrugged out of his shirt and rolled his eyes again when Grant turned away from him. Once he was dressed, he waited on the edge of the bed for Grant to finish up.

“When is the festival?” Already Bell was making plans in his head to make it happen.

“I reckon you could take a shark. Like, a small one.” Grant mused, imagination running away with him as he finished up putting suncream on and changed quickly. He turned, giving a sigh when he saw Bell out of his shirt. Board shorts were very revealing so Grant quickly looked out the window to avoid any… accidents.

“Last week of the holidays.” Grant said, walking over and offering his hand for Bell to take. Their first time going to the beach together. Grant was giddy.

Bell snorted and took Grant's hand to lead him back through the massive house and out the back door to follow a short path directly to the private beach. “There’s a full moon that week … If I went with you, I’d probably have to leave after the first day. Then again, maybe you’ll be fine on your own and you can get me all sorts of nice things at the festival. You’d be surrounded by all kinds of people who all like that junk.” Bell teased with a smirk.

Grant gaped when he saw the lovely little path going to the lovely beach. “You own this?!” He asked incredulously. Grant cocked his head, rubbing his thumb over Bell's hand. “I don't have to go. I don't want you to be alone for it. Especially since you'd be at home. You could come to the forest near my village. Mum would take care of you.”

He turned out to the beach, inhaling the fresh sea air.

“No, I don’t own this, my brother does. And technically it’s not even like he earned it with his own money, he inherited the money to buy this place so he can escape.”

Bellamy shook his head, looking over the waves with a small smile as plans started forming in his head. He’d plan a couple ‘dates’ to crowded places to get Grant more used to the idea. If the festival did happen to fall on a full moon, Bell still wanted Grant to enjoy it without him. The festival didn’t sound like his cup of tea, but Grant would no doubt love it and Bell wanted Grant to have the opportunity to do anything he wanted.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Bellamy sighed and pulled Grant along to a small area with beach chairs to set their towels down and then headed towards the shoreline. “I don’t like the idea of so many muggles being close by without any protection ... Don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine.”

[bellamy-adler]

Bellamy waited outside the Gryffindor Common room fidgeting with his robes. While the fabric was one of the softest he owned, the sleeves irritated the sensitive skin around the bite mark on his wrist that he kept carefully disillusioned. So, he was fidgeting. First with his clothes, then anxiously with his hair that honestly looked the same as always but Bellamy couldn’t help thinking that his curly hair was falling into his eyes. One time while trying to push his hair off his forehead he poked himself in the eye with the flowers he was holding. He had very rarely given Grant flowers and wasn’t entirely sure which ones he liked, but after nearly every full moon Bellamy would wake up to new flowers by his hospital bed from Grant. Surely his boyfriend had a preference for one of those if he was constantly giving them to him? He had transfigured a new set of knitting needles into the flowers he held and was impatiently waiting for Grant to come down so he could give them to him.

@theliongrant

[killianwood-blog]

getting down to

A couple of days ago Killian slipped a necklace into Grant’s pocket because the boy didn’t want to accept it as a gift. It did take him a while but in the end, he noticed and started to send owls to Killian trying to give it back. Killian’s first thought was to play oblivious, cause he really wanted the other boy to keep the necklace, after all, it was a gift for Merlin’s sake! But then the younger boy mentioned something about not feeling well which made the damsel in distress alarm go off in Killian’s head. He grabbed a box of chocolate he had laying around on his desk and a hidden flask from under his pillow which still had some alcoholic giggle water from that evening he spent with Nate. And almost running he was out of the dorm room and down the stairs. 

He stopped in front of the sixth year boys’ dorm and caught his breath. And knocked three times. “Grant?”

@theliongrant

[bellamy-adler]

I’m a possessive little shit.  I don’t know why you put up with me.

@theliongrant

[bellamy-adler]

How far have you and Grant gone sexually?

“Well, lets see … We’ve snogged, obviously, and given each other blow jobs, but Grant isn’t quite ready to do anything else yet.”

@theliongrant