#which is a nice touch! considering that’s the direction I’m which his haircut was when they were kids. isn’t that fun

[ohitslen]

Something other about his eyes

Bonus! Based on this quick thing I did this afternoon and the idea took a bit more shape and turned into that thing from above uEK

[tennessoui]

29 G.A.t.W. AU - The C.W.s start 2yrs early bc of Galactic Law EVERY Natborn in the GAR MUST be 18yr old. Obi-Wan is forced to leave behind his young Padawan. Absence makes the heart grow fonder.. Without the Masters being able to be there physically they have to start training programs to help the Pawadans. Every Master now has to teach certain subjects. Anakin finally sees a mind healer & finds inner peaces without the Council breathing down his neck. The Temple Locked Down so No Sith Influenc

so this is a beautiful ask and beautiful future and i followed it like i follow my google maps directions which means maybe 30% of the way but i was watching lord of the rings and thinkin about braids so here is this and i'm very sorry it's what it is

29. Going Away To War AU (Tatooine slave culture, 17!Anakin, preslash/Anakin's pining, mullet!Obi-Wan)(2.3k)

The Padawan braid isn’t the first braid Anakin learns about. It’s not even the fiftieth. By the time Qui-Gon Jinn, Queen Amidala, and Obi-Wan Kenobi land on Tatooine, Anakin is well-versed in the language of braids and what each means. He hadn’t had any of his own yet, seeing as how he was only nine with no accomplishments or triumphs or romantic entanglements to advertise, but if he had stayed on Tatooine, he’d probably have gotten his first braid after he won the podrace.

HIs mother would have done it with gentle hands and a proud smile, and their neighbors would have gathered outside their door to try and be the first one to congratulate him.

Braids are important. They’re sacred. Their style and the beads woven through the strands signify everything important to know about the Tatooinian wearing them. He’d see the freed people’s braids in the marketplace and burn with envy. He’d see a blushing girl braid her lover’s obsidian into his hair to signify courtship, and know one day he’d do the same to someone else. He’d practice his braids until his hands hurt from the motion, wanting to be perfect at it before he’d need to know. After all, as a slave, there wouldn’t be much else he could offer them except beautiful braids and beads.

There is only one braid he doesn’t know the meaning of, and it’s the one that hung down Obi-Wan Kenobi’s shoulder when they first met.

He thinks about asking him, even though it might be considered rude, but before he can, they’re at the Jedi Temple, then on Naboo and then Master Jinn is dead and Obi-Wan’s braid is gone, and Anakin thinks, oh. So the braid means love.

Mourners on Tatooine cut the braids off their dead and then a single braid from their own head, to mean that a part of themselves has died as well. Obi-Wan tries to be extra nice to Obi-Wan after that.

That is, until the man approaches Anakin with a serrated knife and a rueful grin and tells him that because the Council has allowed him to take him as his padawan, it’s time for Anakin to have the Padawan haircut.

The fit Anakin throws at these words could probably be heard back on Tatooine, but his new master must be made of the same strength Lukka crafts the sandstorms from, because an hour later, Anakin is looking at his shorn locks on the floor in a state of horrified shock.

Obi-Wan kneels down at his side as he begins braiding together the lone strand of hair Anakin has been allowed to keep.

“I’m sorry,” his master says quietly. “I know that your hair is very important to you on Tatooine.”

“How will I practice my braids now?” Anakin asks despondently. If he is to have short hair until he’s Obi-Wan’s age (ancient), then he won’t ever be able to practice the courtship braids. The engagement braids. The marriage braids. All the other ones too. Do the Jedi just present their beloveds with sloppy braids?

The thought has him near tears.

Obi-Wan looks very panicked. “Please don’t cry,” he begs. “Jedi apprentices shouldn’t cry.”

Anakin’s vision becomes even more blurred at this. Now he’ll never be able to practice his braids and he’s a bad Jedi.

“Oh blast, that’s not what I meant,” Obi-Wan backtracks, hesitantly putting his hand on Anakin’s shoulder. It’s not very comforting, but it’s the best Anakin has so he resolves to make do and lean into the touch. “Well. You can, uh. You can braid my hair?”

Anakin sniffles. “Your hair is short. And ugly.”

His master laughs and ruffles Anakin’s own short hair. “I’ll grow it out, just for you if it’s that important to you.”

He would? Anakin looks up at him hopefully. That could work. It even makes sense, kind of, for Obi-Wan to let Anakin braid his hair. After all, Anakin’s going to be wearing Obi-Wan’s braid, even though he doesn’t love him yet.

Maybe the Jedi do things differently. Maybe the Jedi weave the braid, and the love comes later.

---

“I remember a young boy telling me my hair was ugly,” his master says consideringly, as he lets himself be pushed to the floor while Anakin clambers onto the bed behind him.

“You bring that up every time, Master,” he sighs as he strokes his hands through Obi-Wan’s admittedly beautiful mane of hair. It’s not as long as he’d like, not really, but it doesn at least go down to his shoulders. “I don’t know how many times you want me to apologize.”

“Oh, just once more,” his master smiles with his voice. Anakin will miss this. Anakin doesn’t know how he’ll live without it, without Obi-Wan’s quiet wit and wry humor, his willingness to indulge Anakin no, even if it’s been eight years of braid-practicing.

“Once more might be all we have time for, Master,” Anakin whispers. His fears are not the sort one can say loudly.

“Do not think like that,” Obi-Wan turns his head to the side just enough so that he can look up at Anakin. “It will be fine. I will be fine.” “You’d be better if I came with you!” Anakin argues loudly. “You know I’m old enough! It’s not fair!”

His voice cracks on the last word, making him wince as Obi-Wan raises an eyebrow.

“The Jedi Council and all Republic legal branches have spoken. We will not take children into a warzone--”

“Then don’t, but I’m almost eightee--”

“--And I agree with them.”

Anakin’s fingers slacken on the strands of hair, loosening the braid. “You do?” he asks, feeling betrayed. “You want to leave me here at the Temple while you go get yourself killed on some Mid-Rim planet?”

“I want you safe, Padawan,” Obi-Wan corrects, breaking away from him so that he may stand up and sit beside him on the bed. “A war is no place for Jedi, but while us knights have no choice but to fight, we would keep our younglings as far from it as possible--even those younglings who are only a few months shy of being eighteen.”

“You’re taking away my choice,” Anakin says quietly, anger abating enough that he has to struggle to hide the fear in his voice. He brings his knees up against his chest and curls tightly into himself. “What if you die and--and--” he breaks off and pulls useless at his Padawan braid.

He knows what it means now after eight years spent at the Jedi Temple. It’s supposed to denote the Padawan from the Master, and signify the respect an apprentice has for their teacher.

But he’s never been able to shake his original conclusion that it was a representation of love, though he’d never say that aloud.

But when he touches it, sees it in the mirror, he’s reminded only of the love he bears for his master. A guilty, shameful love that takes up too much of his mind and heart. He’d fallen in love with Obi-Wan somehow. Now when Anakin dreams of marriage beads, his fingers are invariably braiding them into coppery blond hair. Now when Anakin dreams of--well, other things, it’s always Obi-Wan’s body beneath his, over his, inside of his, around his--

And now the galaxy is at war, the Knights and Masters of the Jedi Temple called to defend the Republic, and Anakin is too young to follow his master.

“And what, dear one?” Obi-Wan asks gently, hand coming up to unclasp Anakin’s fingers from his braid. “If I die, you will let me go as any Jedi would. I will become one with the Force and you will continue forward.”

Anakin almost wants to shake his shoulders. Doesn’t his master know anything about Anakin at all? How could Obi-Wan say these things as if he believes them? If Obi-Wan were to die--if he were to die away from Anakin, without Anakin--if the unthinkable were to happen--Anakin doesn’t know what he’d do.

A part of himself would die as well, he knows that immediately. He’d cut Obi-Wan’s braid from his hair so that the man could be buried with it, and he’d never weave another.

“Have faith in me, Anakin,” Obi-Wan tells him softly, hand falling to rest on his shoulders. “I will come back. Or perhaps in a few months you will join me.” He sounds falsely enthusiastic, like he’d do anything to keep Anakin away from the war.

As if Anakin would let that happen as soon as he’s legally able to fight.

“Will you let me braid your hair?” he whispers, slowly sitting cross-legged.

“Of course,” Obi-Wan says immediately, sinking back to the floor.

“Will you keep them in this time? For as long as you can?” Anakin asks, shily, running his fingers through Obi-Wan’s hair slowly, savoring the softness of the strands.

“I will do my best,” his master promises him. “What will they mean?”

“Good fortune,” Anakin replies, seeing the braid come together in his mind’s eye. Yes, good fortune, a plea to the gods who see Obi-Wan in battle to look the other way. To take someone else instead. He gets to work, collecting a chunk of hair on the left side of Obi-Wan’s temple to braid back.

Nothing’s fixed. Nothing’s better. The person Anakin’s pretty sure is the love of his life will be sent out to fight tomorrow at dawn, and he might die never knowing how Anakin feels about him.

But it’s not like Anakin can tell him either, not when he’s seventeen. Not when he’s Obi-Wan’s Padawan.

He’s always planned to wait until after he’s been Knighted, after Obi-Wan has been given enough time to see Anakin as a man who has a choice whether or not to love him. And, yes, the Code forbids attachment and Jedi cannot marry, but it’s not like Anakin would ever be able to marry Obi-Wan legally even on Tatooine.

But he could give him the braids, if Obi-Wan wanted. That way, when they both died, in their sleep of natural causes, the Goddess Leia knows to keep their souls intertwined as she transports them to their afterlife.

Anakin’s fingers pause as he thinks of something that would make him feel better.

He bites his lip. His mother would disapprove. To give the braids to someone without their knowledge is heavily frowned upon.

Anakin winces, even as his hands change direction. These are extenuating circumstances. There’s a lot at stake here. Anakin can’t risk a life and an afterlife without his master. And he’s going to ask him eventually. Just not now. Just not yet.

The braids for good fortune form a crown over one’s head. The braids for marriage…

They start similarly enough at the temples, but connect to each other at the back of the head, where a third braid is begun. Then each braid is braided into each other. The left braid represents the braider. The right braid represents their beloved. The third braid that begins when the two meet represents the life that they will create together.

Anakin holds the three braids loosely in his hands, staring down at them in some sort of surreal shock. This is not the circumstances he has imagined doing this under, but he’s heartbroken. Not when it’s Obi-Wan who will be wearing his braids.

“Dear one?” Obi-Wan asks, breaking the heavy silence. “I do not mean to rush you, but my knees are starting to hurt.”

“You’re so old,” Anakin quips back, stroking a thumb over one of the braids, the right one--Obi-Wan’s.

“And you are so very young,” Obi-Wan retorts. “The two of us together is the equivalent of one good soldier.”

Anakin’s heart pauses for a second. “Would you want that?” he asks nonsensically.

“What?”

“If you could choose. If I were eighteen. Would you want to be…” Just as suddenly as he gained that sudden burst of confidence, he loses it. He sighs, mostly in disappointment at himself.

“Anakin?” Obi-Wan prompts.

“You’d want me there with you if I weren’t too young, wouldn’t you, master?” Anakin finally says.

Obi-Wan hesitates, and Anakin’s chest feels tight. “I would want you safe, regardless of age, dear one,” he settles on saying.

Anakin’s fingers clench down on the almost complete marriage braids. “But if there were no war,” he forges ahead. “If the war never happened. You wouldn’t want to leave me behind. You’d want to stay together.”

Anakin can just imagine the furrowed eyebrows Obi-Wan must be sporting as he tries to figure out what Anakin wants from him.

“Just answer the question,” Anakin begs, tightening his hold on the braids to prevent Obi-Wan from turning around.

“You are my Padawan, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says slowly. “And someone who will one day be my partner, my friend. I would like...very much to be allowed to see you finish growing into the fine man you will be. The one that in many ways you already are.”

“And then?” Anakin asks doggedly. “When we’re both knights. And you’re assigned...a mission. And you get to choose your partner. And it’s me or. Or someone else. I don’t care. Who would you choose?”

“Well, I suppose it would depend on if this fabricated mission depends on stealth. Secrecy. The ability to tell a believable falsehoo--”

“I’m being serious,” Anakin insists, cutting his master off. He almost wants to drop the braids, let them fall apart. Clearly Obi-Wan doesn’t...perhaps won’t ever--

“It’d be you,” Obi-Wan murmurs very quietly, as if afraid to speak louder. “We are better together than we are separate.”

Anakin blinks and then smiles, only a little teary-eyed at his master’s confession. “Yes, Master,” he agrees, finally--finally--braiding the three braids together and tying them off neatly. He pictures the material of their souls responding the same way that Obi-Wan’s hair has. The thought makes him feel equal parts giddy and guilty.

“After all, someone needs to make sure you don’t crash every ship in the Jedi Temple,” Obi-Wan continues dryly.

“Yes, Master,” Anakin agrees again, running a hand lightly over his work.

He’ll tell him when he’s a Knight. Really.

[alittlextrathatway]

Penelope/Colin: “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t leave.”

YAY SOMETHING BESIDES BRETTSEY. (Not that I don’t love them.) I’ve never written Polin before! I’m excited to play! 🙌🏻 Thank you!

How about a modern AU for this one? Just cause.

******

It all started because of the pandemic.

He’d been perfectly happy traveling. It’s not like he had anything else to occupy his time. He wasn’t particularly talented and he didn’t have any hobbies or interests. Aside from eating but he doubted his mother would approve of him becoming one of those professional hot dog eaters and he didn’t care enough for the piddly portions of fine dining to become a food critic.

The only thing that truly distracts him from his lack of drive or ambition is traveling — learning about the world and it’s many cultures.

He has journal after journal full of his discoveries and experiences. Travel is really his only love.

Which is why he’d stopped and started his studies so many times. He took a year between high school and college to backpack through Europe. Then another year after freshman year to “study abroad”, not that he actually studied. Which is why his mother forced him to come back and finish his third year stateside. After that, he’d set off traveling again. Every year he found another excuse not to come home for any longer than a month or two, allowing him to put off his final year.

It’s not as if he’s getting a degree in anything useful. He’s an English major. And it’s not as if his career isn’t already decided for him. Upon graduation he’ll be given an office at Bridgerton Family Publishing. Doing what? Well, no one knows. Not even him.

So, what’s the rush?

He’d still be gone abroad right now if not for COVID forcing him to return home. God, he hates 2020. What a waste of a year. He came home too late for the spring 2020 term so he’s spent the last several months going absolutely crazy.

He’s a man of the world who is not being allowed to go out and see it. He can’t imagine anything more cruel.

Actually, no, he takes that back. There’s one thing:

Using the time he’s forced to stay in Mayfair to discover he’s completely and stupidly in love with his little sister’s best friend.

The friend who overheard him, last time he was home for any considerable length of time, declaring to his brothers that he would never be interested in her.

Because, of course, Colin Bridgerton is a colossal jackass who doesn’t know a good thing when it’s been staring him in the face his entire life.

There’s laughter coming from the direction of the foyer. Very distinctive laughing. One high and tinkling like a pretty little bell and the other deeper and hoarser. The alto to the other’s soprano. The alto in this case is his younger sister, Eloise, and the soprano is Penelope.

The woman he should have noticed long before now.

He gets up from where he’s lounging on the sofa, mournfully watching the Travel Channel, and takes his plate full of sandwiches with him.

He finds them giggling and applying lipstick in the mirror by the front door. They look dressed to go out. Eloise in her slick tailored pant suit and intricately adorned lace top, in monochromatic lavender. And Penelope in…

Holy shit, what is that?

Apparently, it’s the instrument of his imminent death if the erratic beating of his heart is any indication. He’s going to have some sort of attack and go into cardiac arrest right here in the foyer of his childhood home.

It’s a tight forest green dress that has an off the shoulder neckline. It hugs her curves so perfectly that he thinks someone must have sewn it onto her. It shows the perfect amount of skin along her neck and shoulders, giving just a tiny glimpse of cleavage.

And she’s had a haircut since she was here yesterday. Her ginger locks now rest against her cheeks in a wavy stylish bob. She was beautiful before. He was never blind to that as some other people around Pen have proven to be, but now...

She’s absolutely stunning.

So stunning that other people will surely see what he sees. And he’s grateful for that, truly. She deserves to be seen as she is — brilliant and beautiful — but that means he’s about to have competition while trying to win her over. And he is not grateful for that.

He’s been trying to be more forward with her when they’re alone but that doesn’t happen often and he’s not sure Penelope takes him very seriously. (No one does.) She seems to always be in disbelief when he flirts with her.

“Where are you two off to?” He asks, leaning against the wall opposite the mirror.

“Double date,” Eloise says, fluffing her hair in the mirror. “Pen arranged it. She met someone extremely gorgeous at the library today.”

Penelope blushes and grins demurely. “It’s the magic of a fresh cut,” she says motioning to her new hair. “He was there with his friend and we were all scrambling for resources for our bibliographies together and he asked if I wanted to get dinner and I asked if Eloise could come. No big deal.”

“It doesn’t look as if it’s not a big deal,” Colin observes, his gaze sweeping over Penelope from head to toe.

“His father owns that new super exclusive restaurant Kate’s been begging Anthony to take her too. You know, La Table Gourmande?” Eloise explains.

“The one that told Anthony the next available reservation was in two months? That restaurant?” Colin asks, trying not to scowl.

Really, there was no need for this guy to show off. He seems a bit full of himself.

“That’s the one,” Penelope replies with a nod. “He says he can get us the Chef’s table tonight. I’ve never done anything like that before. It sounds exciting. Might be the closest I ever get to authentic French cuisine. For a while anyway.”

Okay, so now he feels like a heel for wanting to keep her from going out. He knows he’s lucky his family is so well off. It allows him to travel. Penelope’s family, while not destitute, has spent most of their surplus funds putting three daughters, soon to be a fourth, through school. In fact, if not for a distant rich aunt who died they wouldn’t even have been able to afford that.

Any money Penelope used to travel would have to be her own, and he isn’t sure how much of that she has.

“Pen,” Eloise calls, interrupting Colin’s thoughts. “Have you seen my clutch? Did I bring it down?”

“I don’t see it anywhere,” Penelope says with a shake of her head. “Did you leave it on your dresser?”

Eloise groans in irritation, turning toward the main staircase of their massive house. “I guess I did. I’ll be right back.”

Finally, they’re alone. Colin clears his throat and sets the plate of sandwiches he’d been snacking on down on the hall table. He crosses the space until he’s standing mere inches away from her.

“Don’t go out tonight. I can take you somewhere else. Somewhere better,” Colin suggests.

“Better?” Penelope asks skeptically.

He nods. “I have a friend who opened a restaurant here that I met while I was in Nice. It’s smaller than that La Table Gourmand monstrosity and not quite considered fine dining but it’s real. It’s better. It’ll be closer to actually being in France than anything in that obnoxious place.”

“I don’t see why I can’t go with Marcus tonight and then you some other time,” she tells him, lifting one perfect brow and pursing her lips.

“This guy sounds like a prick,” Colin says with a scoff. “Bragging about his father’s connections on the first date? That’s not a good sign, Pen. Trust me, I know these things. I’m a guy.”

“Maybe,” she says with a shrug, a small knowing grin on her lips. “But I think I should decide that for myself. Don’t you?”

That grin…

She knows exactly what he’s trying to do.

She’s being difficult on purpose.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t leave,” she challenges him, continuing to grin smugly.

Well, if that’s the game she wants to play then so be it.

“Why waste a night figuring out what I already know when you could just let me take you out instead for what, we both know, would be a better time?” Colin asks, caressing the length of Penelope’s arm with a light tender touch.

She sucks in a breath at the contact, but doesn’t show any weakness in her expression. “Yes, but going out with Marcus would be a date that might actually lead to something. What would be the purpose of ditching a real date for you instead?”

“Oh, you want it to lead to something?” He asks, a smirk growing on his face as he backs her up toward the wall.

“Y—yes,” she stammers, her grin slipping as nerves shine in her eyes.

Her back hits the wall and he brings one hand to her cheek, cupping her face and trailing his thumb along her cheekbone.

He leans down, nearly closing the distance between them but stops just short of kissing her. “Come out with me, Pen, and you can choose where it leads. I’ll give you whatever future I have, even if I have no idea what it is. You set the terms, you call the shots.”

Her eyes widen and her cheeks flush but she instinctively leans into his hand. Call him a cocky bastard, but that’s the moment he knows he’s won. The moment he knows she’ll choose him.

“I set the terms?” She asks, biting her bottom lip while she stares at his.

He nods, waiting for the moment she leans up and kisses him.

“Well, then you know what I think?” She asks, rhetorically while she rests a hand on his chest.

“Tell me,” he pleads.

She smiles wickedly and pushes him away by one step. “I think you could do with some healthy competition.”

She sidesteps him and saunters off to the front door, leaving him gaping at her like a fool.

Like a besotted, astonished, completely smitten fool.

Eloise reappears, patting Colin’s shoulder as she follows after Penelope. “Tell mom we’ll be back late.”

They leave, the door shuts, and all he can think is…

Well played, Penelope Featherington.

But the Bridgertons are famously competitive and this game is only just beginning. He’ll win her over yet.

Wait and see.

[cybernaght]

Guardian rewatch: Episode 9

This episode starts with Zhao Yunlan being a bloody good boss. I’ll talk about how the opinions of others must have affected this man’s perception of himself a little later on, but in this scene it is important to note that Zhao Yunlan is supportive, caring and loyal. Wang Zheng comes to him in tears, asking for permission to leave and see the home she had just remembered, and he not only supports her verbally, but drags his entire team on the trip with her the very next day. Sure, he has are ulterior motives, as he strongly suspects one of the Hallows must be around the same area, but I maintain that Zhao Yunlan would have insisted on going with Wang Zheng regardless.

There are complications to this trip; namely, Wang Zheng is a ghost energy being and can neither be in sunlight, nor leave the SID really. Thus, the plan to take her on the trip includes buying a doll. The implication is that Wang Zheng can be somehow placed inside it, and thus be able to move, but the details of how this is done are actually curiously hazy. I’m not sure if censorship is the reason for muddled writing, but there really is very little explanation for the ghost in a doll situation.

Guo Changcheng is tasked with securing a makeshift body for Wang Zheng, and the boy, eager to act fast, and without much to work with in terms of instructions, ends up buying this.

We can only thank the Universe for the role of Wang Zheng not being played by a blow-up doll for three episodes straight.

Zhao Yunlan instantly realises that being places inside this thing might be a little bit upsetting for his subordinate, and lashes out at Guo Changcheng with an excellent “Is the thing above your neck a urinal?” This snaps Zhu Hong out of her mirth, too; she rushes to her friend’s side to offer emotional support, and will remain there for the entire episode.

I love this blocking, in which Zhu Hong is the only one who feels comfortable approaching Wang Zheng in a situation where she is seemingly being mocked by her male colleagues, as Zhao Yunlan and Guo Changcheng look on, unable to offer a meaningful apology.

The evening prior to this Shen Wei is musing over ancient map of the region. His costume is arranged deliberately so you can see the Pendant of Pining hanging around his neck.

I am really wondering when this was shot, because it looks very out of place. The costume differs from Shen Wei’s usual attire, including chinos and an uncharacteristically ill fitting shirt. His hair looks so wrong I am wondering if this is styling, or a different haircut entirely. And, since we’re on this train of thought, his eye colour is so off I genuinely spent quite a bit of time examining the shots in order to figure out whether he’s wearing contacts. I don’t think he is, by the way, but the colour grading makes his warm syrupy-brown irises look almost olive green.

During the scene it is revealed Shen Wei’s only worry in regards to leaving the city and rushing into what could be trouble is a possibility of Zhao Yunlan encountering danger in his absence. It is easy to see that Shen Wei here firmly associates his own worth with his work as Hei Pao Shi, and his own needs with Yunlan being safe and sound. You could trace this thought process back to the mountainside conversation ten thousand years ago, and to years of loneliness and isolation that followed. While, frankly, equating self-worth with comfort of other it’s not necessarily so unusual, and neither is equating it with one’s work, Shen Wei’s disregard for his own life is still horribly upsetting.

The morning after, Zhao Yunlan with his team and Shen Wei with his students move out of Dragon City. Destination - North-west. I have to ask though, why is Shen Wei taking his students with him? I get that it’s a cover but also: he can totally just teleport where he needs to and do his stuff as Envoy, can he not? It’s fast, efficient, and can all be done during the night without arousing any suspicious.

As it happens, Shen Wei goes by car, which breaks, and causes him to instantly cross paths with Zhao Yunlan. What I like about this meeting is that we see it from an outsider perspective, as we drive into the scene with Lin Jing, Chu Shuzhi and Guo Changcheng.

“Is that Professor Shen? This must be their destiny. They keep meeting each other wherever they go.”

Zhao Yunlan confesses that he feels like Shen Wei bugged him and pops up everywhere he goes; Shen Wei counters by saying that in this case Zhao Yunlan who followed him. Zhao Yunlan can just laugh awkwardly. It’s kind of adorable how the two men just basically admit that they’re stalking each other, and are both kind of okay with that. Shen Wei then introduces the other man to his students as his good friend.

Zhao Yunlan, having already figured out that he is not likely to get any answers from Shem Wei, goes on a charm offensive with his students. I think this is the first time Shen Wei sees Zhao Yunlan using his jovial manipulation on others, and he is not particularly happy about what he is witnessing. Below are the series of facial expressions he wears every time it happens throughout the episode.

The way I read it, this could equally be jealousy, or the daunting - and incorrect - realisation that Zhao Yunlan is being like this with everything that moves. He could be even beating himself up for falling for this man’s charm now that he sees that Zhao Yunlan using the same wide smile as a tool to placate, gain trust and access information. In his mind, this is a further confirmation that he is not in any way special in Zhao Yunlan’s eyes. Again, Shen Wei’s supposition cannot be further from the truth. But you could imagine how he may have come to make to this conclusion.

In this particular case, Zhao Yunlan uses his charm to get some information out of Jiajia, and ends up hearing the direction of their expedition.

Shen Wei nervously adjusts glasses in the shot which is not even his close-up. It’s lovely, seeing how good of an actor Zhu Yilong is. Good actors don’t need to be directed to to most of the little things their characters would do, and don’t have to be told what their character quirks are.

Shen Wei very politely shuts Jiajia up when she starts talking about the earthquake, asking her to get out of the sun, despite this not being a hot day.

“Chief Zhao, you are really good at making people talk.”

As he is making this observation, he is offering Zhao Yunlan his water, because the man mentioned that he may be thirsty, and hydration is important. Should I once again be obsessing over how their fingers are touching here? Perhaps not. I am, once more, doing it anyway.

During the conversation that ensues here, Shen Wei reminds Zhao Yunlan that he was asked not to leave the city, and makes one more attempt at forcing them to part ways after the car fixing is done. Chief Zhao is having none of it. He reminds Shen Wei that no promises were given, and suggests they work together and protect each other instead. It’s interesting how their end goal is similar: they want to keep each other out of harm’s way. But for Zhao Yunlan, who works with a team, this implies sticking together. For Shen Wei, who has been alone for what could have been centuries (we are never given a timeline for when his magical coma ended), this implies being as far away from each other as possible. Many things about their relationship will change - but this one will never do.

Zhao Yunlan proceeds to charm his way into driving Shen Wei’s car. He is after all very good with people, and he’s not afraid to use this skill to keep himself near the Professor.

Next, we have intercut scenes depicting conversations in two separate cars.

Lin Jing is driving Zhu Hong, Guo Changcheng and Wang Zheng in the jeep. There, Guo Changcheng tries his darnedest to offer exceedingly moody Wang Zheng apologies and consolation, but his weak attempts to very little to lighten the young woman’s dark disposition. In the meanwhile, Zhu Hong is seething with resentment and jealousy. She notes discontentedly that Zhao Yunlan once again chose to go and spend time with Shen Wei, hypothesises on why Shen Wei is unmarried, and then goes into a long-winded rant about Zhao Yunlan being an uncaring person. Lin Jing reluctantly participates in this conversation, but he does not look very much like he cares for it.

I have mentioned in my previous recap that those around Zhao Yunlan comment on his crassness, and now I am wondering how much this creates a vicious circle for the man in question. He may have heard - from his father, from his previous romantic partners, from his colleagues - that he is a failure, a boorish, unloving and superficial man who only does things to chase clout and carnal pleasures. It is difficult to not internalise that, and Zhao Yunlan may have just grown to see this as an unshakeable truth about himself.

As for Zhu Hong’s part in this, it is easy to call someone not responding to your advances an uncaring jerk. It does not, however, necessarily make them one.

Curiously enough, the only person speaking up in defence of Zhao Yunlan here is Guo Changcheng. He notes that he considers Chief Zhao to be a nice person; despite only being with SID for a month, he is able to see good intensions behind the bristles. No doubt, this is another case of Xiao Guo being incredibly empathic.

In the other car, Zhao Yunlan is driving Shen Wei and his students. Here, we see the chief continue to crack jokes and use his bountiful charisma to find out more about their expedition. Presumably, this has been going for a while, and Shen Wei’s patience finally runs thin when Zhao Yunlan states that their research must be very important. “Thank you for the compliment”, states Shen Wei flatly, according to subtitles.

According to my dictionary however, what he actually says is, roughly, “Chef Zhao overpraised [us]” (“赵处长过奖了”), which even with my very basic comprehension of Mandarin, I can see as overly formal and clearly dismissive.

Zhao Yunlan seems to be taken aback, and a few seconds pass before he composes his features into one of the chuckles he uses as a mask: it is loud and wide, but does not quite reach his eyes, sliding off his face almost instantly. In the passenger seat, Shen Wei is slowly and deliberately readjusting his own mask.

We cut to Zhu Jiu trying to secure assistance of a whole bunch of Youchu he drags out of the cave. It goes even worse than his other plans do, with the beasts grumbling and effectively refusing to do any work whatsoever.

Zhu Jiu’s ineffectiveness is actually pretty sweet on rewatch, and I am starting to kind of appreciate Wan Naichao in this role. It’s not that I find his performance particularly good, but between the costume, the wig and the script, he does not have an awful lot to work with, and he nonetheless appears to have so much fun hamming it up to his heart’s content. He is not intimidating by any stretch of imagination, but he is surprisingly, albeit ironically, watchable. And, honestly, I would rather watch an actor being hammy and enjoying it than visibly longing for death on set.

After passing a checkpoint through a combination of Zhao Yunlan’s connections and ever-present charm, the now joint SID/DCU expedition shuffles around in cars once again. Despite their destination being allegedly twenty kilometres (or about 12.5 miles) out of town, it takes them a whole day to reach it. Who knows, maybe the Seastar’s measuring units are different.

This time, it is Lin Jing driving, with Shen Wei and Zhao Yunlan having relocated to the back. We see that Zhao Yunlan has got a cold again - which could theoretically be from being so close to the hallows. He sneezes, and Shen Wei microexpressively overreacts.

Then, Zhao Yunlan unceremoniously arranges a pillow on Shen Wei’s shoulder and settles in for a nap. Does he remember napping on Shen Wei’s shoulder a few nights prior to that? Because he might do, considering how comfortable he feels with this casual close contact.

After a momentary panic, and a comment about flu meds, Shen Wei not only lets Zhao Yunlan do it, but also rearranges his pillow several times to make it more comfortable for the other man. I have no hot takes on this apart from just... those two. I love those two. How are they so adorable.

The car enters CGI fog, and promptly get stuck. To make matters worse, Lin Jing says he does not have a phone signal and asks Shen Wei to check his phone. “He does not have a mobile phone”, deadpans Zhao Yunlan before Shen Wei even opens his mouth.

Finally, Zhao Yunlan’s head vacates Shen Wei’s shoulder, and the professor leaves the car to scout the area. Jiajia tries to follow, but Zhao Yunlan dissuades her and goes after Shen Wei himself, catching up just as the other man is starting to scry the surroundings with his powers.

Zhao Yunlan enters the scene quoting poetry to highlight the beauty of their current location.

Shen Wei instantly tries to send him back: partly to continue using his dark energy, and partly, perhaps, out of genuine worry. In response Zhao Yunlan notes that Shen Wei is the only one who can order him around. This is not all done in cheek: it’s actually kind of true. Even before finding out that Shen Wei is powerful and ancient, and imposing, Zhao Yunlan is readily listening to him, and following his lead.

As a precursor to returning to the car, Zhao Yunlan takes his jacket off and drapes it over Shen Wei’s shoulders, despite the other man’s loud protestations. Again, Yunlan has got a cold, and he is visibly filling the chill air later in the scene. He has no way of knowing that this jacket will become a catalyst for his suspicions about Shen Wei’s alter ego, so there can’t be any other reason for him forcing his jacket onto the other man apart from a desire to make sure he is warm and comfortable.

Shen Wei stares at Zhao Yunlan in absolute wonder.

It is easy to believe that the idea of someone wanting to look after him is foreign no Shen Wei: we know from the text of the show that before Kunlun no one has shown him any consideration, and seeing Shen Wei now, it is not difficult to imagine, heartbreaking as it is, that no one has done it since.

Jiajia’s scream cuts through the air, interrupting the scene. As the two men take off in the direction of the sound, Shen Wei grabs Zhao Yunlan by the elbow as they run out of the shot.

When they rejoin Jiajia and Lin Jing, she girl stammers a few words about ghostly presence that she witnessed, and Lin Jing confirms her words, sharing his knowledge about ghosts seen in this area. Zhao Yunlan reprimands him for speeding feudalistic and superstitious concepts. Just remember that their HR manager literally is a semi-corporeal dead woman. This line is such a blatant and somewhat tongue-in-cheek appeasal of the censorship, that it sounds delightfully silly.

The group finally reach the remote village they were heading to. As everyone files out of the cars, they notice a strange looking crow nearby - clearly Ya Qing is checking in on them. Lin Jing proceeds to tease Xiao Guo, saying the young man in unlucky. Chu Shuzhi is looking disapprovingly at this comment, but it’s actually Zhu Hong who shuts it down. She does use this excuse to make an impolite jab at Shen Wei, noting that the misfortunes are someone else’s fault, while looking at her romantic rival from the corner of her eye.

Shen Wei graces the screen with another one of his “why does the snake woman hate me?” faces. 

It’s quite amusing that as the group starts walking towards the guesthouse, Zhao Yunlan sends his people off while he himself deliberately lingers in place, so he can walk with Shen Wei, sneaking a hand across the professor’s back. 

Just as the company enters the premises of the guesthouse, they find a human skull. Of course they do. But the reason I am including this here is to point out that Shen Wei’s reaction is to cover Jiajia’s eyes. Zhu Yilong does not do it in all of the takes used in the scene, which indicates to me that this is an in the moment acting choice. 

Shen Wei then leads his students away to give the SID a chance to investigate. While Lin Jing and Zhao Yunlan do just that, Wang Zheng sinks to her knees and starts praying to comfort spirits of her ancestors. Hilariously, this goes unnoticed for a while.

After completing some preliminary checks on the skull, Zhao Yunlan suggests they park the investigation for the night, citing that he does not want students and their teacher to get ill as the reason for doing so. Da Qing notes that this is more considerations than he shows his subordinates. I don’t think he means it, but it’s a lovely little jab at Zhao Yunlan’s unmistakable crush.

Inside the house, everyone settles in to hear Wang Zheng’s tale of the Hanga tribe. What follows is an massive exposition dump. She sets up as “some things she heard from rumours”, but considering how forlorn she is throughout this tale - and that she was praying earlier - it is pretty obvious that she is of the Hanga tribe herself.

Again, I love the blocking here. Zhu Hong is keeping her shoulder in front of Wang Zheng, protecting her from the strangers (and Shen Wei) that they are sharing the table with. Zhao Yunlan and Da Qing are watching from afar, and Chu Shizhu is perching above them on the stairs. The composition is easy on the eye, and implies that the SID men are ready to protect those at the table from all directions.

Soon, they are interrupted by a villager pretending to be a ghost, and a reluctant village head explains that the outsides may not be welcomed because there has been a murder here in the recent days. Zhao Yunlan and Zhu Hong leave to investigate the crime scene. As they do so, Zhao Yunlan catches the woman gazing upon him in adoration, and freezes uncomfortably, for a second before laughing it off.

He should really force himself to have an uncomfortable conversation with her, but he won’t do it until pushed.

In the meanwhile, Zhu Jiu is having more luck riling the actual ghosts up than he did with the Youchu. After some hesitation - and some baseless threats from our unfortunate villain - the Hanga tribesmen launch an attack against the guesthouse.

Just to note: their masks don’t look anything like the masks Wang Zheng drew. Considering that the guesthouse parts of the episode was likely to have been shot together, I don’t see any explanation for this as it pertains to production.

Chu Shuzhi and Xiao Guo leap into action to fight the ghosts - and the young man actually successfully fends one of them off. They are soon joined by Lin Jing, who leaves Shen Wei in charge of looking after the students and Wang Zheng inside the house. The ghost woman energy being asks to be let outside because she guesses correctly that the ghostly warriors are here for her, but Shen Wei refuses to let her go. The reason he states for denying her is that “Zhao Yunlan would never agree to it.” He knows that the other man would never put his crew in danger - and adopts the same attitude.

Shortly after, Zhu Hong and Zhao Yunlan arrive on the scene.

Here we see for the first time Zhao Yunlan’s painful flashback to his mother’s death, followed by him freezing with the gun in his hand. Zhu Hong does save the way by snatching the weapon away from him and firing it, but she also goes on full offensive afterwards, berating the man. Hers is not a kind response at all, and this type of a reaction is likely to be the reason Zhao Yunlan has not felt comfortable talking about his tragic past, perhaps even seeing it as something to be ashamed of.

After the ghosts disappear, Zhao Yunlan stays outside with his team, and uses the Dial in attempt to locate the other ancient item which he knows is somewhere close.

Shen Wei, on the other hand, tells Wang Zheng about the totem hidden in a cave, and asks her for any information on the matter.

His interrogation does not get him anywhere, but he does get suspicious enough to refrain him from drinking the drugged water she offers everyone present in the very next scene.

It is clear from this shot that after toasting with warm water, everyone goes to down their cups - apart from Wang Zheng and Shen Wei, who lock eyes over their cups for the second.

Having escaped her protectors in the night, Wang Zheng heard towards the cave in which Sang Zan’s spirit is kept, Zhu Jiu hot on her heals, and we witness the first of many flashbacks to her life and death.

Next up, Episode 10: Death By a Thousand Flashbacks.

—

Notes.

The next post here will actually be some thoughts on the Lost Tomb Reboot which I have spent this Easter Weekend binging. And if this post is more Zhu Yilong-centric than usual, this would also be why.

[hermannsthumb]

Prompt: Newt has never seen the appeal of threesomes, frankly. They seem like more trouble than they're worth. But now there's two Hermanns standing in front of him, and his first thought (after "Did I take my meds?" , "Do I need new glasses?" , and "What the fuck is happening?") is that he needs both of them, immediately.

Anonymous said: Prompt (if you haven't written it already!) where due to time travel shenanigans, newt gets spit roasted by hermann(s)

i love how many requests i get for this kinda stuff HAHAHAH i technically have written this three times before, but in honor of newt’s birthday, let’s go for a fourth! MAJOR not sfw below cut!!!

----------

Newt is distracted as hell when he half-jogs into the lab one otherwise ordinary birthday afternoon, which might explain why he doesn’t see that there are two Hermanns at first. There’s too much on his mind—picking a club for tonight, what dissections he has to get done today before they can go out to a club, whether or not he remembered to wash his sexy club clothes, and if it even matters, because they’re just gonna get covered in glitter again. Whether or not the barista got Hermann’s coffee order right this time. Whether or not the special birthday breakfast pastries survived the journey. “It’s pouring out there,” he complains to Hermann, pushing his soaked hair out of his eyes and scraping his boots off on the pathetic rubber mat they keep in the doorway. “If it doesn’t let up, we might wanna reconsider going out tonight.”

“Newton,” Hermann says.

“Sweaty, wet bodies in a small room? Gross. No thanks.” Newt inspects the pastries: the brown wrappings of the one on top are slightly water-logged, but the pastry itself is fine. Perfect. “We could just rent a movie.”

“Newton,” Hermann says.

“And order some pizza.” Man, that’d make for a nice birthday. All cozied up in Newt’s bed with a monster movie and pizza. “Actually, let’s do that instead. I kinda wanted to go dancing, but—”

Hermann bangs his cane against the floor. It echoes strangely, almost as if he’s doing it twice at once, and Newt turns to him in confusion—or, as he discovers, them. He drops his pastry. He polishes his glasses free of water, and crams them back onto his face. He blinks a few times. “Oh, shit,” he says. “Dude, there are two of you.”

“I know,” both Hermanns say, and roll their eyes.

Newt approaches them cautiously. Two Hermanns. One of them is undoubtedly Newt’s Hermann, judging by his bad haircut, bad glasses, and bad clothing, which is the same boring slacks and sweater combo he was wearing when Newt left for coffee an hour ago. The other Hermann is a Hermann unlike one Newt’s ever seen before, clad in dark colors, with hair cropped somewhat more evenly and twice as many wrinkles around his eyes. Not two Hermanns—it can’t be two Hermanns. That’s a scientific impossibility. “Your brother,” Newt says. He knows Hermann has an older one, though the odds of Hermann having an older brother who uses a cane identical to his, on the same side as his, is a little slim.

“No,” Hermann says.

“You cousin?” Newt says.

“No,” the other Hermann says, but the corner of his mouth twitches up with an obvious fondness. “Your earlier assessment was correct, I’m afraid. There are two of me.”

Newt glances between them again. Same soft, brown eyes; same dark eyelashes; same weird, wide lips; same elegant cheekbones. Is Newt dreaming? No, he’s sure he’s not dreaming—it’s too, like, real to be a dream. (Besides, Newt’s brain is never this kind to him, and if it was, he would’ve just skipped the boring build-up and gone straight to the threeway.) Is he having some sort of a mental break, brought on by stress, or forgetting to take his meds somewhere along the line? Unlikely—Newt’s been way more stressed before, and he’s skipped his meds before, and he’s never had a reaction like this. It must be real. “Well, shit,” he finally says. “Hermann, this is the best birthday present ever.”

“Er,” Newt’s Hermann says. “It is?”

Newt cups the side of the new Hermann’s face, feeling it, inspecting it, reveling in the warmth of his skin. Yep—real, definitely real. Real and handsome. Newt pats his cheek. “You cloned yourself just so we could have an awesome birthday threesome,” Newt says. “That’s really touching, Hermann, seriously. I promise I won’t let you down.”

“No,” Hermann says. “That’s not—”

New Hermann gently places his hand over Newt’s, leaning into his touch, and smiles. There’s a hint of sadness to it Newt doesn’t quite understand. “I’m not a clone, darling,” he says.

“Oh, I like him,” Newt says. “He’s nicer. Definitely not a clone, then. Who are you, then, hot stuff?”

“He’s—oh.” Hermann sighs. “It all sounds so silly when I try to say it out loud. He’s from the future, Newton.”

Newt hums, considering New Hermann. Yeah, that makes more sense. Eye wrinkles. However far off in the future he’s from, apparently he’s picked up a bit more fashion sense by then, and maybe even a bit of style. “You came back in time just to have an awesome birthday threesome with me?” Newt guesses.

New Hermann laughs. Eye wrinkles, style, and apparently some sort of major head injury where he forgets how bad he and Newt hate each other. The future is now, or whatever. “Truthfully,” he says, “arriving on your birthday was unintentional. It’s difficult to get exact dates correctly with the sort of technology I was using, you see.”

“Apparently there’s some great big event that happens in 2035 that it’s absolutely imperative he warn us about,” Hermann says.

That’s a bit of a let down. Still cool by virtue of time travel, Newt guesses, but awesome birthday threesome would’ve been more exciting. “Oh,” he says. A let down, and a shame, really, because 11-years-into-the-future Hermann is pretty sexy, and Newt was hoping for the chance to get his hands on some of that. Or maybe get those hands on him. He’s not picky. “I mean,” he tries, one last desperate attempt, “what’s the rush, you know? You can always tell us afterwards.”

“Afterwards?” Future Hermann says.

“Afterwards,” Newt repeats. He grabs Future Hermann by the lapels of his dark labcoat and smiles cheekily. “You can spare a couple hours, can’t you, dude? For the birthday boy?”

A sudden warmth blooms behind the future Hermann’s eyes; his mouth stretches into a smile of his own, goofy and affectionate. Future Hermann sure seems to like him. Newt hasn’t got a problem with that in the slightest, actually. “Er, a couple,” he stammers, and Newt hears Hermann—his Hermann—inhale sharply, like he’s just been offended to the utmost degree. “I suppose that’s— Well, I suppose there’s no real problem there. It’s not as if I’m on a schedule. Time travel. After all.”

“After all,” Newt says. “What about you, Hermann?

Newt’s Hermann is silent for a little too long to be anything but considering. “Er,” he says.

“Good,” Newt says.

--------

“Alright, boys,” Newt says, “I’m not as young as I used to be, so I can’t promise I’m very good at this anymore.”

“Anymore?” Newt’s Hermann says.

Newt winks at him over his shoulder. He has a witty joke on the edge of his tongue, but it dies when the Hermann in front of him (older, nicer Hermann) begins to tenderly stroke his jaw without warning. “You’ve always been so handsome,” Hermann says. His hand trails up the side of Newt’s face and stops in his hair, where he begins to twirl a strand around his finger. Newt shivers. “I could stare at you all day.”

“That’s kinda creepy, Hermann,” Newt says. “And cute, I guess? Okay, here goes.”

He opens his mouth wide and takes in Hermann’s—the new Hermann’s—dick as deep as he can, which is somewhere around the three-fourths mark. He used to be a lot better at deep-throating in his twenties. Also, Hermann is somewhat very well-endowed. “Bugger,” the future Hermann moans. His eyes flicker shut, and his grip in Newt’s hair tightens, and Newt feels a surge of pride. He’s always loved being able to turn Hermann to jelly like this, and apparently some things never chance. He hopes future Newt is still giving it to Hermann like this. “Newton, that’s marvelous.”

“Oh, by Jove,” Newt’s Hermann murmurs. He’s standing behind them at the edge of the bed, his knees braced against it gently. He’s also undoubtedly enjoying the view. Newt smiles around Hermann’s dick (puffing out his cheeks for show, just a little), and wriggles his ass obnoxiously at his Hermann. He needed the guy inside of him five minutes ago, goddamn it. Hermann seems to get the hint: there’s a shaking hand placed on his hip, a lone finger prodding his lube-slick entrance to check he’s properly prepared, and then Hermann’s dick sliding into him inch-by-inch. Newt moans. 

“Newton,” the two Hermanns groan out in near-unison, the one as Newt begins to bob his head up and down his dick, the other as he bottoms out and his pelvis hits Newt’s ass.

Newt pulls his mouth off of Hermann’s dick for only a second. “Fuck me already,” he begs. His voice is raspy even to his own ears.

He’s not sure which Hermann he’d intended to direct the plea towards, but both take it to heart: the Hermann behind Newt begins to rock in and out of him, picking up speed with each little thrust, while the Hermann in front of Newt pushes his dick back between Newt’s lips and begins a series of shallow thrusts of his own. Newt feels speared open, and used; Newt feels fucking awesome. “Mm,” he moans. He ruts against the bedsheets lazily.

“Wait, wait,” the Hermann fucking his mouth suddenly says, voice breathless. “Your—ah—your timing is not quite right.”

“It most certainly is right,” the Hermann in his ass huffs. “You’re meant to be following my lead. Yours is off.”

“Hardly,” the first Hermann says. “Stop moving—we need a bloody rhythm. We needn’t overwhelm Newton.”

Both of them still. Newt hears them debating how to proceed in a series of hissed whispers (though he’s too busy happily sucking on Hermann’s dick to bother with proper eavesdropping), and then the Hermann behind him is pulling out, while the Hermann in front of him pushes further into his mouth and down his throat. Newt’s throat burns pleasurably; his eyes begin to water, and he gags very slightly. “There we are,” the first Hermann continues in a grunt. “Now—” He pulls out until the wet head of his dick is just grazing Newt’s lips, while the other Hermann pushes back into Newt’s ass. “Much neater.”

Newt swallows down a hysterical laugh, or maybe it’s more of a whimper, and just grins instead. “You guys work it out?”

“Shut it,” the Hermann behind him gasps. He grinds deep in Newt, hitting all the right spots, and Newt is grateful for the return of the other Hermann’s dick in his mouth to muffle him before he can really make an embarrassing sound.

They keep up the pattern for all of five minutes, which Newt is pretty impressed with. Slowly, though, they start to get impatient; lingering too long inside of Newt, or pulling out a bit too slowly, or jumping the gun just a bit too early to rock back in. The Hermann in behind is the first to snap and forgo it entirely, suddenly gripping onto Newt’s waist and pounding into him as hard as he can. Not that Newt is complaining. “Ah, Newton, that’s so—” he moans, and Newt rewards him with a little teasing squeeze, “I—”

“Mmhm,” Newt says. Part of him wants to start worrying about his own orgasm, but honestly, he’s enjoying this too much. 

Getting an idea, he pulls his mouth off of Hermann and replaces it with his hand. Hermann always gets really embarrassed when Newt lets him come on his face, and he’s curious about if that’s changed in eleven years. “This feels so awesome,” he says. He begins jerking Hermann off quickly, barely a centimeter from his lips. He’s sure he’s gonna say some dumb shit—he loses his mouth to brain filter (which already works at minimum capacity) completely when he’s this turned on. “So, so awesome. I wanna do it again with both of you guys in my ass or something, but I want you to come all over me first, fuck yeah, come on, Hermann, do it—”

“Newton!” the Hermann above him chokes out, throwing a hand over his eyes, which gives Newt all the warning he needs to stick his tongue out and catch a small portion of his jizz. The rest makes a mess of his glasses. Kinda gross. Pretty hot, too.

He’s not surprised when he feels the Hermann behind him stiffen and come in him only a second later, cursing and gasping—he really does like to see Newt messy.

While they both collapse to the bed and attempt to catch their breath, Newt rubs his fingers through the mess one Hermann made of his face and uses it as lube to stroke himself off. He doesn’t take very long, either, considering this is definitely one of the hottest things to ever happen to him. Top five birthdays for sure.

“So,” he says, ten minutes later. He’s positioned himself in bed as the middle of the Hermann sandwich. Both Hermanns (arms draped around Newt) look at him, but Newt only looks back at Future Hermann. “What did you come here to tell us?”

“Oh,” Future Hermann says. He blushes. “Er. Right.”

[hockeyboysiguess]

Photographs

a/n: i was in some feels and this came out. childhood friends to lovers is a classic and never goes out of style, folks. also, italics are flashbacks. 

“You gonna do the photo wall last?” Matthew asked you as he finished taping up another box.

You weren’t exactly sure at what point in you life you’d accumulated this much stuff that needed to be packed. Your childhood bedroom was like a memory capsule for your entire childhood, starring the Tkachuk family more than your own. You grew up two houses down from them your entire life, until Matty went to the OHL and you went to college soon after. Summers together kept your families close. The Tkachuks were family as far as your parents were concerned and you were a part of theirs too.

“Yeah,” you sighed. “It feels too, I don’t know, final to take it down.”

“Well, you guys are moving away forever,” Matty reminded you, “because you hate me.”

“Exactly,” you smiled, a joking tone strong in your voice. “Glad you finally understand how intolerable you are and that you’ve finally forced us out of St. Louis even though you’re in Calgary over half of year.”

“My powers of annoyance are strong.” Matthew bowed with his palms pressed together at his heart in a fake zen manner, earning an eye-roll from you. “Only took our entire lives, but I finally annoyed you into getting the hell away of me.”

“Oh please. You would’ve never learned to tie your shoes without me,” you chided him, walking towards him to give him a smack on the way and grab yet another candle off your desk.

“Pretty sure this photo,” Matt grabbed a photo from high up on your covered wall to bring it down, “was taken that day? Damn close to it anyway.”

You snatched the photo from him, smiling as you looked it over. You and Matthew were sitting next to each other in the plastic turtle sandbox that was still somewhere in your backyard, filled with rain water instead of sand these days, and roughly four years old. Matthew’s shoes were untied, as they pretty much always were at that age, and his arms were around your neck. You both were sporting wide, face-breaking smiles. Matthew has a ton of sand in his curls, a product of his inability to tie his shoes that had led to him face planting on the sandbox a few moments before this photo was taken.

“Matty!” you shouted as the little boy fell into the sandbox face first. “Your shoe is untied.”

“Mom isn’t here,” Matty replied after picking his curly head up out of the sand. “I can’t tie them.”

“I can! I’ll show you!”

Matthew looked at you with his brows furrowed and a pout on his face.

“I don’t need a girl to help me,” he said firmly as he flipped himself over in the sand so he was laying on his back. “Besides, you have cooties.”

“You have cooties!” you shouted back, “And my mom says girls can do whatever guys can do so ha.”

You stuck your tongue out and Matty did the same in reply. You stuck your tongue out as far as it could go and put your hands on your hips to try and look scarier. Matty put his thumbs behind his ears and spread his palms out wide and waggled his fingers in every direction in response. 

“Meanie,” you mumbled, giving him your best pissed off face, as good as a four-year-old could do. “Let me teach you!”

“Okay, fine,” Matty muttered back, “but don’t touch me. You definitely have cooties.”

“You were so cute,” you said as you flipped the photo around to him. “What happened to you? Did you get smacked with the ugly hockey stick.”

“You’re one to talk,” Matty chirped back. “When did the resting bitch face start? Pretty sure that’s the root of all your problems in the looks department.”

“My soul is now accurately reflected in my appearance. It’s a trick to ward off men,” you countered without missing a beat.

“Well, it definitely works,” Matthew laughed, earning a shove from you.

Your eyes wandered back to the photo wall, landing on a photo of you and Matthew and Brady from when you were seven. You snagged it off the wall and showed it to Matty.

“Remember this one?” you asked him

He nodded, a smile forming on his lips as he took the photo from you. You, Matthew, and Brady were arm in arm, elbows linking you together. You were in a pale yellow dress with a flower crown and the boys were in tuxedos and top hats. You had been the flower girl and they had been joint ring bearers for a wedding of someone else in the neighborhood. The photographer had thought the three of you on dance floor, spinning around linked at the elbows, was too precious not the capture. This photo was still framed on your parent’s hutch, or it had been until your mom packed it the other day.

“Brady! Spin faster!”

Your voice was high and bright, filled with laughter as you spun around in your twirly dress on the dance floor.

“I’m trying!” Brady shouted back at you. “I’m not as big as you guys.”

“Faster!” you egged him on, the ribbons on your flower crown almost whipping him in the face with each turn.

“Yeah, Brady, keep up!” Matthew added in from your left side.

“I’m trying!” Brady shouted again, practically tripping over his feet to keep up with you and Matty.

“You just wanted to spin around and around and around,” Matthew laughed as he remembered that night. “You kept yelling at Brady because he wouldn’t spin fast enough.”

“I was a girl on a mission and he was slowing me down,” you shrugged unapologetically.

“Pretty much describes our entire childhood right there,” Matthew replied, his eyes shifting to your photo wall. He smiled, having found something that interested him and he plucked it off the wall. “Do you remember this one?”

You rolled your eyes when he showed you the photo. Of course he’d pick this one. It was from Matthew’s ninth birthday party. You and Matthew both had your cheeks tinged a dark pink since you’d just left the bounce castle the Tkachuks had rented for the party. You were both laughing, toothless smiles on show for all to see. You didn’t have an issue with this photo other than the fact that it was a physical reminder of the worst haircut you’d ever had.

“You need to go low when you go down, then you’ll bounce higher,” Matthew told you, even though you hadn’t asked for his advice.

“I’m doing that,” you huffed out between jumps.

On your next jump, you let yourself fall back and lay down at the bottom of the bounce castle. Matthew paused with you, flopping down next to you so you bounced up in the air again, making you laugh.

“I’m gonna get a Capri Sun,” you told him as you sat up and started to crawl your way to the exit.

“Capri Sun!” Matthew shouted, hot on your heels out of the bounce castle. “Strawberry Kiwi or bust!”

He ran past you as soon as his feet hit the grass, making a beeline for the cooler that contained your favorite beverages. Matthew tipped open the top and stuck his hands deep into the ice in search for what he wanted. He emerged victorious before you even reached him.

“I want strawberry kiwi,” you mumbled.

Matty, who was already about to puncture the pouch with, paused before he extend the pouch out to you instead.

“I’ll get another one,” he told you with a shrug, before plunging his hands back into the cooler.

“The bangs though,” Matthew nodded, a smirk playing on his lips. “How did your mom let you do that?”

“I think I just kept pushing and she got sick of telling me no,” you sighed, shaking your head softly. “How did my cheeks look that chubby? I don’t understand.”

Matthew looked at you as a smile started to form on his lips. He reached out and pinched both of your cheeks before you could protest. You slapped his wrists hard to get him to release your cheeks, but you were both laughing so hard you couldn’t fake anger.

“They’re still kind of pudgy,” he told you through his laughter. “You grew into them though and you still have your own portable nut storage. Oh, that sounds bad now.”

“Wanna take that back?” you asked him with a raise of one eyebrow.

“Yes, I would like to formally rescind that statement,” Matthew said

“Consider it struck from the,” you grabbed another photo off the wall, “record.”

“Oh jeez, thanks for picking that one,” Matthew said, sarcasm dripping from each word when he saw the photo

“You picked my bad hair year. Only natural I pick yours next,” you laughed as you looked over the photo. 

You and Matthew were at one of the local hockey rinks. Him and Brady had probably played at ever rink within a hundred-mile radius of St. Louis growing up, so it was hard to tell which one. Matthew had just come off the ice, still in all of his gear except for his helmet which was tossed at his feet. You looked like you had just walked straight out a Hollister ad and you had picked the neon pink bands for your braces, but Matthew still looked worse. His cheeks were bright pink from all the skating he’d done and he was in the middle of an awkward phase for sure, but it was his hair that sealed the deal. It was too long and he didn’t really learn until you taught him a few years after this photo was taken how to take care of his curls, so they were just incredibly puffy and not in a cute way. He looked like his hair had been teased with at least five different combs until it was a large and frizzy as possible, not a single actual curl managing to escape the frizz. 

“Just one photo together!” your mom told you, pushing you closer to Matthew. 

“Mom,” you whined and trying to resist her push, but you knew better than to cross her. 

You shuffled over to stand next to Matthew. Your hands balled into fists at your sides, holding the ends of your sweatshirt sleeves in your fists. Matthew sighed and shifted his stick to his opposite hand to make space for you next to him. 

“You smell,” you told him. 

“You always smell, but I’m nice enough not to say anything. Maybe you should learn some manners,” he threw back at you. 

You almost squinted your eyes closed in anger, but decided to do one better. You smiled brightly, confusing Matthew when you didn’t insult him back. Your mom and his mom both had their cameras out, each taking a different side to make sure they got one good photo between the two of them, except that wasn’t in the cards that day. The exact moment your mother told you both to say cheese, you gave Matthew a surprise shove with all of your might. He was bigger, but you had surprise on your side and down he went, onto his butt for all to see. You laughed and pumped your fists in the air upon seeing your plan executed perfect. Matthew just glared at you from the ground.

The photo in your hands captured both of your faces the moment you realized he was going down. Matthew’s face showed shock and horror, the future chirps of how he got pushed by a girl clearly flashing before his eyes. Your expression could only be described as absolute elation. 

“You know what they say,” you giggled. Matthew looked at you with an eyebrow raised, waiting for your response. “The higher the hair, the closer to God.” 

“You still smell,” Matthew told you, a glint in his eyes telling you his was just trying to get a rise out of you. 

For old time’s sake, you stuck your tongue out at him. He just laughed in response before turning his attention back to the wall. His light blue eyes scanned over several photos before he found one that brought a smile to his face. He plucked it off the wall and presented it to you. 

“You know, twelve years old was your worst time. Nine was my worst, but I think fourteen was our joint worst,” you sighed, shaking your head softly as you looked at the photo. 

Freshmen year homecoming, before Matthew was sucked into the junior national development team. He was for some reason wearing a red vest, white button up, a bowtie, and black dress pants. Not exactly a fashion forward look. You were in a dress that your mom had definitely encouraged you to buy. It was silver, had silver glittery polkadots over the entire thing, and flared out at the worst possible spot on your body, making you look a good twenty pounds heavier than you were. The pose of the photo made the awkwardness you both had felt then come right off the photo and back into your bodies now. You shuttered as you remembered the circumstances for the photo. 

“Matthew, just stand behind her and put your arms around her,” his mom encouraged, but there was an annoyed edge to her voice, like she was teetering just over the edge of exploding. “Just this one photo and then you can be done.”

“We’re not dates, Mom,” Matthew complained, his arms crossed over his chest. “We’re not going the dates pose.” 

“Matthew Tkachuk,” was all his mother had to say in a firm tone and his arms flew around you. 

You knew your smile was uncomfortable as you did it, but it was the best you could muster given that your best friend who you couldn’t remember not knowing currently had his arms around you. You swallowed hard at the feeling of his arms around your stomach and you started to sweat a little. You tried to attribute it to the weather, but it was fall in St. Louis, so that mental excuse didn’t work. You were nervous, but you couldn’t figure out why. Matthew had never jumped away from you faster than he did once his mom said she had the photo she wanted. 

“Moms,” Matthew sighed, a pained expression still on his face. “So embarrassing.” 

“Right?” you replied, laughter edging at your voice to try and lighten the situation. 

Why were you nervous? It was just Matthew. 

That’s when your almost decade-long crush on Matthew had started. Or at least, that’s the first moment you could remember feeling anything for him more than friendship. The feelings had only grown stronger with each passing year since then, but you knew better than to ever bring them up. Honestly, your parents moving away to their forever retirement home in Florida was sort of a relief. You wouldn’t seen Matthew every time you came home and now maybe you could finally shake this crush that had ebbed and flowed, but never stopped, for the past eight years. 

“The dress was a bad move,” Matthew chuckled, drawing you back to the conversation.

“Hey, I wouldn’t exactly call the outfit you’re wearing something you should bring back for your next event,” you retorted.

“My outfit should come back before that dress and that’s really saying something,” he replied, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth as he looked at you. 

You turned your attention back to the wall, not able to hold eye contact with him for longer than a few moments at a time without blushing you. You grabbed a more recent photo, the first of many on your wall starring a Calgary Flames jersey. 

“Draft day,” you informed him as you turned the photo towards him. He smiled softly at the memory as so did you. 

The Tkachuks had insisted on you coming. You were family, so you were coming to Matt’s Draft Day. It was decided for you, as was your plane ticket there. It just showed up in your email one day and the the only discussion the Tkachuks had allowed about it was if you were going to the airport with them or if your mom would be dropping you off. When you saw Matthew get drafted to his top choice team, gratitude to Matt’s parents for making sure you didn’t miss this moment instantly flooded you. Matthew’s eyes were bright and he had one of the biggest smiles you’d ever seen when he turned towards you after he hugged Taryn. 

“You did it!” you smiled at him as he leaned in for his hug. 

He was so much broader now then he used to be. The year in the OHL and another year around the sun had done him good in that department. His hugs enveloped you now, pulling you in tight to his chest as his arms circled around your shoulders. 

“Thank you,” Mathew whispered to you, his hot breath against your ear combined with his lips just grazing it making your heart race, “for being my friend this whole time, even though I’m the worst sometimes.” 

“Always,” you assured him as you gave him an extra tight squeeze before letting him go to make his way to the stage to put on that jersey for the first of thousands of times. 

“Props to you for finding this photo on the internet,” Matthew told you, tapping the photo softly with the tip of his index finger. 

“I hated all of the group photos from Draft Day. My face looked weird that day,” you replied with a shrug. 

The photo was of that very hug in the stands of the arena where he’d been drafted. You’d ripped it from some article about him falling to sixth in the draft because he was supposed to go fourth. You’d been thrilled when he’d started falling a little in that moment. You knew he wanted to go to Calgary, even though it hadn’t been the most likely destination for him according to the experts. 

“Your face did not look weird,” Matthew told you, his brows furrowing down in confusion. “Women.” 

You hit his shoulder with the photo, making him laugh, before dropping it onto your desk with the others. You grabbed your water bottle and took a couple of swigs from it before offering it out to Matthew, an old habit that wouldn’t die. On instinct, he took it and drank a few sips. 

“I have my own water,” he said mostly to himself as he closed it and put it back on the desk. 

“Mom always said you didn’t look like you drank enough water, so I always gave you some of mine when I drank any,” you explained to him, even though you’d definitely been over this before. 

“Old habits, huh?” he chuckled a little. “Can’t believe you’re leaving.” 

“I mean, I could be back,” you sighed as you shuffled over to sit on the edge of your bed. “I don’t exactly have a job yet. That’s the only reason I’m going, you know that.” 

“Yeah, but you’re not exactly applying to a ton of jobs in St. Louis,” Matthew replied, annoyance obvious in his voice. “I’m never going to see you anymore if you’re not here when I’m home.” 

“I’ll come visit,” you assured him. “Amigos for life. You know that.” 

Matthew waved you off. You both knew that you not living in St. Louis to be here for Matthew’s off season was going to impact your friendship. Would you ever stop being friends? Definitely not, but you wouldn’t be able to walk two doors and see him anymore, like you’d been able to do for your entire life.

His eyes were back on the photo wall when you heard a soft chuckle escape him. He yanked a photo off near the bottom of your photo wall, a more recent addition. Matthew spun on his heels to turn to face you with the photo exposed. Your nose scrunched up in mild disgust when you saw the photo he’d picked. Matthew had taped that photo up himself because he insisted it was one of the best you two had ever taken. You disagreed, but he pulled out a ‘You Owe Me’ to make sure it made the wall. 

You and Matthew were absolutely trashed in the photo. It was from his twenty-first birthday party. Your mascara and eyeliner were running a little from sweat due to the club you were in. Matthew’s curls were frizzy from the heat and he had a beer in his hand. One of his arms was throw around your neck, crushing you into his side and his other arm was pointed out towards the camera, throwing a drunken peace sign in spite of the beer in his hand. You were both laughing at the camera. You were both absolute messes, but you were so happy that night, you remembered. 

“It’s my fucking birthday!” Matthew screamed before he tilted his beer back against his lips and emptied the full bottle down his throat in a few swigs. “Let’s fucking go!” 

You followed his lead, downing your beer a little less gracefully, some foam spilling down your chin, and a little more slowly, but you got the whole thing down, earning a cheer from Matthew and a few surrounding friends. Matthew disappeared for a few seconds to grab another beer from the bar for both of you, depositing it into your hand before the one you chugged had even settled. 

“You know, you look really good tonight,” Matthew told you. 

Your cheeks immediately flushed. You could feel the heat rising. Thankfully, this place was packed and you’d just chugged a beer, so Matthew couldn’t directly attribute it to him. He never complimented you like that. It was the alcohol talking, you decided. 

“Thanks.” You took a sip of your beer to try and disguise the awkwardness you were feeling before continuing, “Uh, you too, birthday boy.”

Matthew smiled a lazy smile at you before throwing an arm around your neck and pulling you in. He dropped his lips to your ear and started to say something, but then the cameraman hired by the club showed up and insisted on talking photos of you two. You wondered what Matthew had been about to say, because once the guy had left, Matthew shook his head a little, then released you, like nothing had happened. Maybe something almost happened? You drank to forget it. 

“Yeah, I don’t think either of us remember that too well,” you laughed a little. “I remember the morning after though.” 

Matthew gagged a little at that memory. You’d spent the morning sharing the bathroom floor as your stomachs alternated trying to empty every last drop of alcohol you’d ever had the thought of drinking.

“The worst hangover I’ve ever had,” he groaned, rubbing his temples at the memory of the searing headache you’d both had. “Worth it though. Never doing it again, but worth it.” 

“If you say so,” you said with a shake of your head.

“Hey, we should take one last photo before you move in front of your house,” Matthew told you. “I know you’re going to visit me and I’ll visit you and everything, but one last one before you leave St. Louis for good, when we finish packing.” 

“Perfect for the ‘gram,” you joked. 

“You’re trash and you know it,” Matthew informed you without missing a beat as he started to take down the photos at the top of your wall.

Before you knew it, you were sliding the last box into the moving truck. Matthew sighed with relief as your dad rolled the back of the moving truck closed, your entire life inside of it up until that moment. Everyone was happy you were finally done packing. 

“One more photo?” Matthew reminded you. 

“We’re not leaving until tomorrow,” you reminded him, “but now is probably a better idea.”

Unlike all of the times in the past, it was you and Matthew that forced both of your mothers to take photo after photo until you had a the perfect one. Well, until you each had a perfect one. Matthew wanted a silly one and you wanted a cute, serious one. They must have each taken fifty photos for you on the front lawn of the only house you’d ever lived in. 

“Well, I guess that’s the end of this, huh?” Matthew asked you. One of his hands was on the back of his neck as he spoke. “Feels weird that someone else is going to live in this house.” 

“Feels weird to me too.” 

You didn’t think you’d cry, but the tears were here and they were demanding to fall. You took in a sharp breath and brought your fist up to your mouth to hide your shaking lip as you tried to keep it together. Matthew knew you too well and he had you wrapped up in his arms against his broad chest before your first sob broke through. He rubbed your back soothingly as you cried against him, soaking his t-shirt. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled as you pulled yourself together. 

“Take as much time as you need,” he told you without any hesitation.

His large hands continued to rub up and down your back, heat from his palms transferring to you. You couldn’t help but wonder what this would feel like if there wasn’t a t-shirt between his skin and yours skin, but you couldn’t dwell on those thoughts. You were leaving, plain and simple. That was that. You couldn’t keep thinking about things like that, but the thoughts kept coming. 

You flipped around on the air mattress that was where your real mattress used to be a few hours later. Your dad wanted to get going at the actual crack of dawn so your real mattress was already in the moving truck in your driveway, a good night’s sleep be damned. You flipped again, unsatisfied with what the first flip had done. You couldn’t stop thinking about Matthew. You’d had the urge to tell him how you felt before, but this urge was just growing stronger and stronger with each passing minute, telling you shouldn’t move, that you shouldn’t leave without telling him. Now would be the cleanest time to come clean. Now, there was a path for you to naturally shift apart if telling him ruined the way things had always been because the status quo was already in flux. Why did you want to risk your longest friendship with one of the most important people in your life? 

People do crazy things when they’re in love. You were in love with your best friend and if your brain was pulling out Hercules quotes to rationalize your feelings, you were either dealing with serious repressed emotions about the move and becoming a real adult or the universe was telling you something. Even if it was the first one, you didn’t know if you were ever going to get a good night’s sleep again if you didn’t tell him at this rate. You checked your phone, 12:45am. Matthew was probably still awake. You smiled to yourself as you got to sneak out of the house for the last time, grateful the window you always used was still pretty well greased up and didn’t squeak to give away your movements. 

You padded over in the dewy grass to the Tkachuk house, up to Matthew’s window. You were about to send him a text when you heard a grunt and what sounds like a large body hit the ground nearby. Your eyes went wide as a figure rose from the grass and started to come towards you. You pivoted on your foot, ready to make a mad dash for the house, until you saw that ever familiar mop of curly hair. 

“Matthew?” you whisper-yelled. 

“Hey,” he chucked. “Same idea, huh?” 

“Doubt it,” you mumbled to yourself. 

“Sorry, what was that?” he asked you and you waved him off. 

As you looked at him in the faint light of your phone, you questioned yourself again. Was this really the right move? Was losing him worth this risk? Was this even a risk, or should you have done this a long time ago?I t was the small part of you that had the last thought that made you open your mouth. 

“Matthew, I need to tell you something,” you sighed as you raked a hand nervously through your hair. 

“Funny, I was going to say the same thing,” he laughed. “Rock, paper, scissors for who goes first, like old times? Best of three?”

“I want to go first,” you blurted out. 

Matthew threw his hands up, a shocked look on his face. You never usually wanted to go first, always trying to make him do it. He flipped one wrist out, gesturing to give you the floor to speak. Your mouth instantly dried up and your jaw went slack. Matthew gestured again, looking like an impatient conductor as he waited for you to speak. 

“You know, you actually have to go if you want to-”

“I’m in love with you,” you spat out in a rush, so fast that you weren’t even sure you understood what came out of your mouth when it floated up to your own ears, so you tried again. “I’m in love with you, Matty. I have been for years. Look, I totally understand if you don’t feel the same way. I get it, but I didn’t want to leave and not tell you.” 

“Why now?” was all Matthew could say.

You’d know this boy your entire life, but you could not figure out what emotion was coming across his face. There were elements you were used to from him, furrowed brows, downturned corners of his mouth, but there was something you couldn’t identify, something new.

“I just, I couldn’t leave and not tell you,” you sighed, exasperated mostly with yourself in that moment. “I should’ve told you a while ago, but I was so scared that I was going to ruin out friendship, which I’m totally ruining right now, I can tell, but I’m going to just pretend I’m not so I can finish this thought. I’ve wanted to tell you for so long, but I didn’t think you felt the same way and I didn’t want to have to deal with that feeling. I mean, I’m pretty sure you don’t feel the same way now, but at least this way I won’t see you from my bedroom window every single day as I deal with this.” 

Matthew let out a long breath as his hands came over his nose and mouth, fingertips pressing together. He shook his head from left to right as he processed what you’d said. You didn’t know if he’d even say anything at all as he turned away from you. Then you heard Matthew start to laugh, softly and slowly, then louder as he turned back to face you. 

“Are you fucking serious right now?” he managed to get out through the laughter. 

“This is somehow going way better and way worse than I imagined,” you mumbled to yourself as Matthew continued to laugh. 

“Of course I’m fucking in love with you too.”

Matthew’s laughter calmed when your eyes met his. You were hesitant. Matthew was forever pushing your buttons and pulling your string, but you didn’t think he’d joke about something like this. 

“Jesus, that’s what I came out here to tell you. How could I not be in love with you?” he asked you as he started smiling. “You’re the best person I’ve ever met.” 

You reached for him in a way you never had before. Your hands found the back of his neck. His hands reached for your waist, pulling you in tight, as his lips met yours for the first time. This, this is what it’s supposed to feel like. Like coming home. No, like you’d been home this whole time and had finally just realized it.

[xmxisxforxmaybe]

Elliot, Just a Tech

Summary: Plagued by not having Admin rights on your work computer, you contact the IT department expecting to talk to your usual guy. However, you are greeted by someone new.

A/N: Consider this post-show

WC: 2596

Warnings: None

You looked over the icons on your desktop for the eleventh time, dragging the old version of Adobe into the trash for the tenth time, and growling with frustration as the error message appeared for what felt like the hundredth time.

Please enter an Administrator’s Username and Password.

After the great email phishing scam the month prior, the IT department had been directed to revoke all employee’s Admin rights to their computers. It wasn’t your fault your colleagues were too dumb to realize that you should not click on email that has been flagged as spam, even if it is a version of your boss’s name: Mattthew Whitman has scheduled a meeting with you at 9 pm!

As if Matthew spelled with three ts wasn’t enough to deter someone, scheduling a meeting at 9 at night should have been, not to mention the exclamation point to top it all off—no one ever enthusiastically scheduled a meeting. Ever.

Alas, no less than 13 people had opened the email, severely compromising the integrity of the network.

You needed to get rid of the old version of Adobe in order for your network’s cloud to allow the download of the updated version, so you were left with no choice but to submit a ticket to the IT department.

You and Matt, no relation to Mattthew your boss, had had several Zoom sessions since the start of the quarantine, mostly thanks to your need to actually get some work done. With so many more people on your network, the IT department was doing the best it could to make sure everyone was achieving basic functionality.

Opening a new work order, you quickly filled in your information and snapped a screen shot of the error message. In less than a minute, you had an email inviting you to a Zoom session.

“Matt’s really on it today,” you said while opening the link and waiting for him to start the session.

You had just glanced away to check your To-Do list when someone opened the Zoom session and you paused, staring at the downturned face of someone who was definitely not Matt.

“Hi,” you greeted awkwardly.

“Hi,” he answered, still not looking into the camera.

“Where’s Matt?”

The stranger looked into the camera, clearly caught off-guard.

“Uh, he’s off today.”

“So they finally unchained him from his desk—good for him!”

The stranger’s eyes widened a little in amusement, but he didn’t smile which caused your grin to quickly fade.

“Are you . . .” the stranger trailed off as he glanced at his other desktop monitor. “Y/N?”

“I am. And you are?”

“Elliot.”

“Are you the new Supervisor they were hiring for last week?”

“Nope. Just a Tech.”

“All right. Well, hi, Elliot, just a Tech. I’m in dire need of installing an update, which I cannot do because my colleagues are dumbasses.”

This time Elliot did smile, and you found yourself reaching up to fix the wild bun on the top of your head, wishing you had actually taken some time out not to look like a troll who had crawled out from under its bridge.

“I see that you can’t install Adobe’s update without administrative permission.”

“Yup. That’s my issue, I think.”

“I want to try something first,” Elliot said, concentrating on the task at hand as he looked away from the camera and to his other monitor.

“Can you locate your system preferences? You can find it by clicking on the appl-“

“Done. What do you want me to go into?”

Elliot looked back into the camera, then gave you a series of steps which you quickly followed.

“I am only semi-illiterate when it comes to technology,” you said, trying again to get him to smile and this time it worked.

Elliot adjusted his headset and lowered his eyes as he grinned. “You wouldn’t believe the things I’ve had to explain over the past few days.”

“Oh, I would absolutely believe them. I’ve talked three people in my department off a ledge just by explaining the magical powers of “Command + Z.”

Elliot chuckled, and the sound of his laughter filtering through the mic on his headset made you want to stay on the call as long as you could stretch it out.

“It looks like the program is not responding. I’ll need to take remote control of your desktop.”

“Have at it.”

You watched as Elliot worked, waiting for your mouse to start moving across the screen, but nothing happened.

“Uh, do you have any error messages on your end?”

“Nope.”

“Let me try one more thing,” Elliot mumbled, his eyes narrowed in concentration.

You sat quietly, letting him work, which gave you an excuse to just look at him and the more you looked at him, the more attractive you realized he was.

Elliot had a stylish haircut, although it looked like his fade had grown in quite a bit thanks to the lockdown. Tufts of straight black hair stood up on either side of his headset and you wondered if they’d be stiff or soft to the touch. His eyes were large, clearly the most enticing of the features of his face, except for his angular jaw that made you softly smile in appreciation of its masculinity. Elliot may consider himself “just a Tech,” but he was a damn good looking one.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” you blurted out, forgetting all of your manners thanks to the lack of social interaction.

Elliot fumbled as he was typing and looked into the camera, his lips parted.

“Oh, lord. That came out . . . blunt. I asked because Matt’s been loving working from home. His wife just had a baby and even though he’s chained up in his home office at all hours of the day he still gets to spend time with the people he cares about. Which is what I was trying to ask you—if you were enjoying working from home.” You finished with an awkward laugh, and a barrage of mental curses to yourself.

Elliot’s lip turned up with a quirk. “My sister stops by to bring supplies, but I live alone.”

“Oh—well, that’s nice you have someone to interact with. I still see my sister, too.”

“I like this. Not having to interact with people.”

“The only downside is the verbal vomit you spew when talking to someone new because you no longer understand social protocol.”

Elliot laughed again, that same breathy little chuckle that upgraded from drawing your attention to making you shift in your chair.

“I’ve never been particularly adept at social protocol. Hence . . . just a Tech.”

You laughed and Elliot must have liked the sound because he stopped to watch you, his eyes flicking over your face through the camera.

“You need to update the Zoom app for me to take over your desktop. I don’t know why yours seems to have this glitch, but are you ready for the steps?”

You grabbed your pen and a fresh post-it. “Lay it on me, Tech.”

Elliot smirked, then listed the steps. “I’m going to close the call, but as soon as you’ve completed the steps, click on our Zoom link again.”

“Got it!”

Your eyes connected and lingered for just a moment before Elliot closed out the call.

You missed him immediately.

“Oh, Matt. If I had known Zoom calls could be like this, I’d have dumped you long ago.”

You shook your head to clear it and began to go through the steps Elliot had listed for you. You wanted to get this right to prove to him that you weren’t incompetent.

Having successfully, and quickly, completed all of the steps on your Post-it, you reinitiated the Zoom meeting.

“You’re quick.”

“I’m sure you’re much, much faster,” you said.

“I can only go as fast as the web connection, unfortunately,” Elliot replied, staring into his other monitor again.

“Let’s try this again—remember the steps to give me remote access?”

“I think so . . .” you said, trailing off as you began to click.

You paused, then your mouse began to move without you.

“Excellent job,” Elliot praised and you knew you wanted him to praise you again . . . preferably away from a computer, maybe in a bedroom—

“All right. So I need to delete, reinstall, and wait for an error message that’s been popping up making this a little harder for people to do themselves.”

You watched Elliot control your computer, and once he got to a point where the app was updating, he paused and turned back to the camera.

“About that girlfriend thing you asked me earlier. Are you seeing . . . anyone?”

“I was . . . about six months ago. By the time I was ready to get back on the horse, the plague struck.”

Elliot chuckled. “Not exactly the best time to start dating.”

“No,” you said softly laughing, too. “I agree with you, about the whole nice not seeing people thing, though. For me, it’s more about setting my own schedule. I get so much more done without constant interruptions just to chat.”

“Kinda like we are now?”

“Hey! We are waiting on a signal to go to space and come back. It’s only polite to give it some time so it doesn’t feel like it’s being watched—like a watched pot never boils kinda thing.”

Elliot smiled, his eyes meeting yours and lingering as you smiled back.

A new box popped up breaking your eye contact and Elliot went back to work.

“Fixed. You shouldn’t have to worry about the next update. We’ve been reporting this glitch regularly so the developers should have it fixed by then.”

“Thanks, Elliot. I really appreciate it.”

“It’s my job,” he said with a slight shrug.

“Well, enjoy the rest of your afternoon,” you said, wishing you had a reason to stay connected.

“Yeah.” Elliot replied, looking at you again with those hypnotic, grey-blue eyes. If they could impress you through a screen, imagine what they looked like in person. “You too.”

You smiled at each other and when neither of you closed the call, you both laughed, Elliot looking a little shy and you looking a little embarrassed.

“I’ll close it. Don’t forget to fill in your survey so big brother knows I did my job.”

“Five-star service, all the way!”

Elliot chuckled again, and you shivered this time, the sound of his voice working its way through your entire body, filling you with a pleasant warmth.

“Bye,” he said, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth as he ended the meeting.

When the session closed out, you began to think of ways to break your computer so you needed to talk to him again, but before you could pull a purposefully dumbass move like downloading a virus, a sticky note popped up on your desktop.

212 555 0179

Probably breaking work protocol, but text me sometime if you want.

~Elliot, just a Tech

“Oh my god!” you gasped, glancing up at your camera to make sure you really were disconnected, unable to shake that feeling like someone was watching you. You reached for your packet of stickers and placed a fresh one over the camera of your computer—better paranoid than sorry!

“Should I text him now? Is that desperate? Or is it mean to make him wait? Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you said, pacing around your small office space.

“Just a simple hello,” you decided. “First, gotta find my phone.”

After walking through your apartment, you found your phone in the kitchen, unsurprisingly because snacking had become your favorite hobby since the lockdown began. It was a blessing and curse to be able to eat whenever you wanted.

You took your cell back to your computer and smiled again at Elliot’s virtual Post-it note and typed in his number and contact information.

Hi, Elliot ☺️

Hi, Y/N. I hope your emoji means I didn’t creep you out

That’s what this one 😱 is for

Lol. Got it. I don’t really do the emoji thing. They kinda confuse me

Well then! Maybe that’s why we met? You know all the real techy stuff, and I know all the silly techy stuff. I can teach you to emoji like a boss 😎

Sunglasses = boss? Shades? Because bosses are shady?

🤣more like the shades mean you’re just too cool to care. Like a boss attitude. But actually 🤔that’s a really great analysis!

See? Confusing 👽

Confusing as in no one knows what’s really “out there” huh? Wow. I like your way of emojiying (new word, just go with it)

Lol really?

I do!

Can I ask you something?

Sure

Which emoji makes you think of me?

👀🦋💬🧸🧨 😰📱😃  

You stared at Elliot’s text, a goofy grin on your face as you tried to puzzle out his emoji story. The eyes, okay, but the rest was sort of a mystery.

Lol! I need to do this in pieces so you can tell me if I’m right or wrong

Ok

So, you saw me and thought I was nice? Pretty? Delicate?

Lol pretty

Ok. Thanks, btw. We talked and then, oh boy, this is tough. An exploding bear? Talking to me made you feel like you were going to die? This is not good.

🤣 Poor choice of the firecracker, clearly, but take them as two separate things. What do you associate with a teddy bear?

Um, childhood . . . safety? Protection?

Close! Warm, safe. You seem like a warm, safe person to talk to.

I am grinning like an idiot right now. You are so sweet. But on to the firecracker? Wait! Like sassy? Like I have a firecracker personality?

Yes! You’re funny in a forward, witty way. I guess the “She’s a real firecracker” thing might be a bit outdated.

I LOVE IT. I gotta keep going now. This part is easy, I think. Sooo even though you felt nervous, you took a chance and left me your cell, and now you know it was a good choice because you made me happy.

Almost—when you texted, it made ME happy. Hence 😃 and I have big eyes so I used the big eye happy face.

I.am.dying. That’s the cutest thing anyone has ever done over a text in the history of the world!

Lol. Is there a dramatic emoji because I don’t think anything I’ve ever done is that great.

This WAS great. I’m serious

Do you wanna maybe have dinner over Zoom? God how lame is that?

You respect the quarantine—not lame at all. I’d love to!

They let me unchain myself around 6. I’ll send you a link at 7?

Perfect! But what are we going to order? Shouldn’t we order from the same place to make it more authentic?

Do you like Chinese?

Who doesn’t?

You looked at the location Elliot sent and laughed with the irony that it was your favorite take-out spot.

How did you know that was my favorite take-out spot?

Lucky guess 🤷🏽‍♂️

Well, lucky Elliot who is just a Tech. I’ll “see” you at 7. If we order the same dinner, I’ll consider it a sign that we are meant to take over the world together by eliminating one dumbass’s access to a computer at a time 🦸‍♀️🦸‍♂️

Lol except that would leave me out of a job

We will find you something more meaningful, I promise

Make me a list 😃

You got it! Can’t wait for 7 ☺️

Me either

* * * * *

Tags: @ramimedley @clumsybookworm18 @r-ahh-mi @aboutthatmelancholystorm​ @alottanothing​ @sherlollydramoine​ @txmel​ @diasimar​ @hah0106​ @flipper-kisses​ @rami-malek-trash​ @ramisgirl512​ @dancing-disco-deacy​ @just-a-queen-bee​ @eightiesriot​

Maybe a Part II? 

[love-and-monsters]

Talsim the Fae: Wedding Party

This is a continuation of this piece, involving you and your Fae boyfriend attending a wedding.

M Fae X F human, 4,565 words.

Content warnings: Mentions of childhood bullying.

“I hate family events,” Talsim muttered. “They’re always awfully boring.” He gave you a pouting look. “Can’t we just skip it?”

“No,” you said. “I already bought the dress. And the wedding gift.”

“I could take you out. And we could just keep the gift,” Talsim said.

“No,” you repeated. “We’re going.” Talsim huffed, flopping onto the bed. You turned back to the mirror, lifting your makeup brush.

Almost as soon as you put the brush against your skin, Talsim hopped off the bed. “Give me that,” he said, taking it from you.

“Hey!” you protested. He lifted it out of your reach as you tried to grab it back. “What are you doing?”

“You clearly have no idea what you’re doing,” he said, waggling the brush in the direction of your face. “Sit back down. I’ll handle it.”

Well, he wasn’t wrong. You sank down onto the bed and Talsim bent down, resting his fingers on your chin. “Close your eyes,” he said. You did so and felt the brush tickle gently over your lids.

“I have kind of a favor to ask you,” you said as he started to apply eyeliner.

He snorted. “I’m already doing you a favor. You owe me one.”

“I think you’re going to like this one a little more,” you said, cracking open an eye. He looked at you hesitantly.

You licked your lips. “Uh. So, I told you this is my cousin’s wedding.”

“Mmhm,” he said. A brush fluttered over your eyelids again.

“I didn’t really go into my relationships with this cousin, though,” you said.

“Turn your head.” Talsim tilted your chin to the right. “No, you didn’t.”

“We saw each other a lot at kids. My family lived closer to hers, so we kind of hung out a lot.” Talsim waited while you hesitated. “She wasn’t all that nice to me.”

Talsim took a step back, examining your face. “Then why are we going?”

“Because she’s my family and everyone will be pissed at me if I don’t,” you said. Talsim shrugged.

“That doesn’t seem bad. You’ll get invited out less.” You cracked open your eyes to glare at him. “Fine. Fine. Keep telling your story.”

“There’s not a lot more to tell. She just wasn’t nice to me as a kid. I wasn’t the most social or attractive kid, I guess, and she kind of teased me a lot. Still isn’t that nice to me, actually. Most of the time she just told that no one was going to love me.” It took some effort to keep your voice steady.

“Well, she was wrong,” Talsim said. His tone was light but his expression was unfriendly.

“I know she’s wrong now, but every time I showed up around her when I was a teenager, she always made some snide comment about how I didn’t have a boyfriend. So, uh. I kind of want to show you off.”

Talsim’s brows lifted and a smile crossed his face. “Oh, well now I am intrigued.” He sat on the bed next to you. “Go on.”

“Well, um.” You could feel your face warming. “I guess, just… you’re, like, a catch, you know?”

His smile widened further. “I am,” he agreed.

“So, I was just thinking that maybe if you came with me, you could kind of… show off that you like me? And that we’re together?”

His smile was wide enough that it seemed almost like it would split his face. “I don’t think that will be awfully hard,” he said. “I act like I like you all the time.”

“Well, you can kind of show off yourself too. I kind of want people to be a little jealous of us.”

Talsim ducked in and kissed your lips. One of his hands came up and tangled in your hair, pressing you firmly against his mouth. His lips parted, pushing your mouth open as well. Then he pulled back.

“Like that?” he asked, eyes gleaming. You nodded, a bit breathless.

“That will work,” you said. “Just warn me next time.”

“It’s more fun when you’re not expecting it,” Talsim protested. You rolled your eyes and looked at yourself in the mirror. Talsim was quite skilled at makeup, though it was rather subtle. He’d focused a lot on small exaggerations to your facial features instead of trying to smooth out flaws. It made your eyes look a little bigger, made your cheekbones a little stronger, and made you look distinctive, but still striking.

“You like it?” Talsim asked, hands resting on your shoulders. He’d gotten off the bed and was leaning over you.

“It’s different than I was expecting,” you said. When you tilted your head in the light, there was a slight shimmer along your face, following some lines you couldn’t see.

Talsim caught your chin again, lifting your face to examine his work again. “I was trying to make you look more like yourself,” he said. “Highlight the common features between your lives. If I had more time, I could probably do a better job, but it’s quite good the way it is.”

You tilted your head back and forth, wishing you could see whatever it was he saw. You’d seen pictures of your previous lives that Talsim had kept, but, aside from a general sense of familiarity you got from looking at them, you couldn’t say they looked like you. Talsim had kept pointing out similarities and gotten frustrated when you had insisted you couldn’t see them.

“We should probably get going,” you said, gathering your bag and pulling your mussed hair back into order. “It’s a bit of a drive.”

Talsim followed you out to your car and settled in the passenger’s seat. “I could drive,” he offered when you sat down in the driver’s seat.

“No. How do you even know how to drive?”

“I’m immortal, remember?” he said. “I learned how to drive the very first cars humans invented.”

“Yeah, and you haven’t driven in twenty years. That doesn’t exactly scream ‘skilled driver’.”

“Oh, I’m sure cars haven’t changed that much,” Talsim shrugged. “The brake’s still the long vertical pedal on the right…”

“That’s that gas,” you said, uncertain whether he was fucking with you or not.

He grinned. “Oops. I���m sure I would have figured it out.”

 “I’m driving and that’s final,” you said, turning your keys in the ignition.

Talsim flopped back in his seat and heaved a great sigh. “Oh, ye of little faith.”

You rolled your eyes in his direction and started along the path your GPS had laid out for you. At least your cousin had decided to hold the wedding fairly close to your home. It was only about an hour away, which, all things considered, wasn’t bad at all.

Talsim shifted in his seat, eyes closed. “I can tell you’re stressed.”

“I’m fine.” You shifted your grip so you were no longer clinging to the steering wheel hard enough to turn your knuckles white.

“Relax. It’ll be fine,” Talsim said. “Can’t be worse than the life your family threw you onto the streets.”

Talsim really tried, but you wished he knew when to keep his mouth shut.

He slept for most of the car ride, giving you plenty of time to focus on exactly how nervous you were. By the time you pulled the car to a stop outside the church, you were pretty sure you were going to throw up.

Talsim stirred. “Mm. Are we there already?”

“Yep. Get up.” He blinked at your terse tone, but obediently got out of the car, braid swinging behind him. You glanced at it, worry swarming over you. “Could you put your hair up?”

He frowned. “It is up.”

“Like, in a bun?” you insisted. He rolled his eyes, but with a flourish, his hair snaked up and secured itself in a neat bun on the back of his head.

“Better?” he asked. “Or would you like me to give myself an impromptu haircut?”

“No, no. It’s fine.” You fidgeted with your dress. “I guess we should head inside.”

“Yes,” Talsim agreed, and started for the door. You hurried after him.

The inside of the church was covered in white and pale blue flowers that curled over the walls and pews. They nicely contrasted the stone-gray bricks of the church. Talsim eyed some of the candlesticks irritably.

“Ugh. Silver.” He wrinkled his nose.

“What’s wrong with silver?” you asked.

“Fae and silver don’t mix.”

“I thought that was iron.”

“If it was, that would be very unfortunate, in this day and age. But no. It’s silver. The purer it is, the worse it is.”

“Do I need to get it away from you?” you asked.

“As long as it doesn’t touch me, I’ll be fine,” he said.

“Honey!” You turned just in time to get a hug from your mom. Your dad stood a bit behind her, looking at Talsim uncertainly.

“Is he with you?” he asked.

“Yeah.” You untangled yourself from your mom and linked your arm with Talsim’s. “This is my boyfriend, Travis.” His real name as a little too conspicuous to you and, after some convincing, he had agreed to use a fake one.

“Oh,” your mom said, glancing between you two. “I’m surprised I haven’t met him before.”

Talsim extended a hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”

After a moment, your mom gripped his hand and gave a brief shake. Your father followed suit.

“Um, we just started dating, but it was going really well, so I thought I’d bring him,” you said hurriedly. “He’s really great.”

Talsim swelled with pride. “You’re quite wonderful yourself, sweetness.”

“Well, I’m glad you found someone,” your mom said. “You’ve been single for too long.”

You could practically feel Talsim’s curious gaze lock onto you. “We should go find our seats, hon,” your dad said, taking hold of your mom’s shoulder. “See you later, sweetheart.”

Your parents headed away into the crowd and Talsim grabbed your hand. “Single for a while, hm?”

“I haven’t had a relationship since I was twelve, okay?” you said, shrinking back a little in shame. “And that was a pretty loose relationship anyway. We weren’t much more than friends.” You glanced up at Talsim, who was staring back curiously. “Was I like that in previous lives?”

“Depended on the life and society. Sometimes you’d had several, sometimes not any. Last life you had three before me, I think.” Talsim put a hand over your shoulder. “None of them hold a candle to me, of course, so it rarely mattered.”

You started to head to your seats Talsim glancing around as you did. He kept a hold on your hand, fingers twining through yours. It was reassuring.

The ceremony began and you made a valiant effort to pay attention, but it was long and it was hard to not allow your mind to wander. Talsim was bored too. You had to keep removing his wandering hands.

“I’m bored,” he hissed, twisting a hand around your waist.

“Not now!” you whispered back. “Stop.”

He stopped putting his hands in the more sensitive areas, but he still trailed a fingertip around the junction between your neck and shoulder. You shivered under his touch. He grinned.

Despite being long and fairly boring, the ceremony wasn’t overly unpleasant. You clapped and filed out of the church with the newly married couple. “At least that’s over,” Talsim muttered to you.

“The reception’s the hard part,” you replied.

“Nonsense. Reception’s just a party. They’re fun! I once broke into a royal wedding reception. That was a good time.”

“Was I there?”

“No. Before I met you.” He squeezed your hand. “But this will be fun!”

“Easy for you to say. Your family isn’t here.”

Talsim hung an arm over your shoulders. “No. But I’m here. So, you’re going to have a good time.”

“Mm.” You muttered skeptically. He squeezed you close to him as you headed back to your car.

It took only a short time to get to the building hosting the reception. Everything was decorated in tiny lights and big white bows were attached to the walls and arches. It was pretty, you had to admit, but the throng of people was nerve-wracking. Talsim kept an arm over your shoulders, perfectly at ease. A few people glanced at him and he returned their stare with a winning smile.

“You said you wanted me to show off,” he said as you entered the reception hall. There was an enormous dance floor in the middle with tables clustered around the edges. “Any particular way?”

“No. Just look like you’re having a good time with me-” The words were barely out of your mouth when Talsim seized you and pulled you into a dip. His mouth pressed against yours in a deep kiss before he swooped back up, pulling you with him. Your face burned. “Not like that!”

“Oh,” Talsim said, looking extremely unapologetic. “Well, you weren’t very specific. Can I try again?”

“No. Let’s just go sit down.” You could see people staring at you open mouthed. “I- don’t show off that much, just make it look like you’re enjoying your time with me.”

“I was enjoying my time a moment ago,” he said, but he didn’t try to kiss you again. You located your seats, which were decorated with folded paper name cards. You parents were at the same table along with a couple of your aunts. You were far from the front, which wasn’t surprising. Most of your other cousins were in the bridal party, gathered up at the head table.

“We should probably go congratulate the bride and groom,” you said, glancing at the already-forming line of people around them.

“Why?” Talsim asked, leaning close enough that his breath tickled deliciously against your ear. “You don’t want to.”

“I still have to,” you said. Talsim groaned, but took hold of your hand and followed you up to the front of the room.

Your cousin smiled at you when you approached. Talsim squeezed you against him, responding to her smile with one of his own. He pulled you more firmly against his side. “So nice to see you,” your cousin said, moving in for a one-armed hug. You hugged her back awkwardly. Talsim barely loosened his grip on you.

“And it’s nice to mee you,” she said once you left the hug. Her eyes flicked up and down as she took in Talsim. “I haven’t met you before.”

“No, we haven’t met,” Talsim agreed, holding out a hand. “We haven’t been dating for long,” he said, gesturing to you. “It’s been a lovely wedding. I’m glad I was invited.”

“Thank you,” she said, her eyes darting between the two of you. She looked slightly surprised by your relationship, and even a little impressed. With a quick glance around, you saw that the rest of the wedding party was giving you glances and whispering amongst themselves. A spark of pride flickered through your chest.

“It was nice to see you again,” you said. “And congratulations.”

You walked off with Talsim, a smile growing on your face. Talsim squeezed your shoulder. “That went well, didn’t it?” he asked, ducking his head close to yours.

“I think so,” you said. “Pretty well.”

Gradually, you relaxed. Dinner was a pleasant affair and Talsim seemed to be bathing in the attention he attracted just by being himself. You thought he perhaps applied a small charm spell over himself, but it was also possible he hadn’t. He was pretty magnetic on his own.

After dinner, you excused yourself to the bathroom. It was enormous, with better acoustics than you thought a bathroom should have. No sooner had you stepped into a stall and clicked the door shut than you heard the front door swing open and the swish-click of high heels under dresses.

“I swear, everyone is getting married.” You recognized the voice. One of the bridesmaids. “This is like. The third wedding I’ve been to this year.”

“Catch that bouquet and maybe you’ll be next,” another bridesmaid replied.

“Yeah, right. Haven’t been on a date in ages.” There was the sound of a faucet running and a muffled curse. “Can I borrow your lipstick?”

“Sure.” Someone unzipped a purse. “It’s not like you’re related to anyone here. You could try to hook up.”

“Eh. Maybe. There’ve been a few cute guys.” She popped her lips. “You see one of those guys? Tall, long hair, maybe Indian? Legs for days?” Your heart stuttered a little.

“He was pretty good. Think he was dating that girl he was with, though.”

You could hear the smile in her voice as the other girl responded. “I dunno. I asked Sherry, she’s that girl’s cousin, and she says she’s never seen him around before. Never even heard of him.” She dropped her voice to a stage whisper. “She thinks her cousin hired an escort.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach. Oh. Fuck. Shit.

“You think he’s an escort?” The other bridesmaid sounded skeptical, which helped you cling to the remaining shreds of your dignity.

“I don’t know. I’m just saying what Sherry said. But I mean. Maybe. I’d pay to go on dates with him is all I’m saying.” The bridesmaids laughed together. The door opened and swung shut and the bathroom was abruptly silent.

Embarrassment and shame flooded you in hot, stinging waves. God fucking dammit. Of course. You show up with a guy who’s obviously out of your league and no one’s ever met before and of course people are going to think it’s strange. Of course. Idiot.

You took a few minutes to control yourself before exiting the bathroom and heading back toward Talsim. He was lounging back in his seat, staring languidly around the room.

“Took you a while,” he said, glancing at you as you sat down. “Want to dance?”

You swallowed. “Not right now.”

Talsim sat up, peering at you in the dim lighting. “What happened? Are you all right?”

You let out a snorting laugh that was somewhat muddied by the fact you were on the edge of tears. Talsim scooted closer to you. “What’s wrong?”

“You were right,” you muttered. “We shouldn’t have come.”

“I knew that already,” Talsim said. “Why do you think that?”

You sniffed. “I overheard some people talking in the bathroom. They think I hired you as an escort.”

“They do?” Talsim’s eyebrows shot up and he glanced around. “Really?” He pressed his lips together like he was trying not to laugh. “I am very attractive, I suppose. Why’s that upsetting you?”

You snorted. “People think I’m so desperate for a date that I hired you to pretend to be my boyfriend.”

“They’re in for a bit of shock when I don’t go away,” he said, taking a sip of wine. “They’ll figure it out eventually. Give it a few months.”

“It’s not really the escort thing. I was being stupid. I brought you here because I thought maybe people would be impressed, think I was cool or worthy or something. But now everyone thinks I’m just desperate for attention.”

“This is going to be insensitive,” Talsim warned, “but aren’t you?”

You fixed him with a glare. He wasn’t fazed. “You did bring me here to show me off,” he said. “Not that I mind, but they aren’t entirely wrong.”

“That wasn’t the only reason,” you mumbled, but you could feel your face warming with shame.

Talsim drained the rest of his wine. “It was a big reason, though.” You wilted a little more, scrubbing at your face. “Well, don’t cry over it. You’ll ruin your makeup.” He lifted your head and dabbed under your eyes with a napkin. “Why do you give a shit what they think?”

“I- they’re my family,” you said. Talsim rolled his eyes in a great, exaggerated circle.

“Again: why do you give a shit? Just because you’re related to them doesn’t make them important. From everything you’ve told me, most of these people are assholes.” Talsim dropped the napkin back on the table. “I like you. You have friends who like you. Why do you need your jackass cousin who bullied you as a child to be impressed by you?”

“I just… wanted her to feel stupid for making fun of me, I guess,” you said.

“I can get behind that,” Talsim decided. “We can invite her to our wedding, then. Show off there.”

You had been moving to take a sip of wine, but you choked and spit it back into your glass. Talsim patted your back as you coughed. “All right, sweetness?”

“Married?” you repeated through gasping breaths.

“I assumed we were going to get married,” Talsim said. “Usually we get married. Do you not want to?”

“No, I want to,” you said. “I just assumed you wouldn’t want to. I mean, I figured it was kind of stupid for an immortal to get married? Like it’s a stupid human thing?”

“I like parties,” Talsim said. “Parties about us are even better. And I like calling you my wife and I like it when you call me your husband. I like being married to you.”

“Oh.” You felt warm all over, but it was a pleasant warmth this time. Talsim scooted his chair back and stood, offering you’re a hand.

“Let’s dance,” he said. “If we’re here already, we might as well try to have a good time.”

You took his hand and let him lead you out onto the dance floor. Your coordination was limited, but Talsim was a good dancer and able to support you. He pulled you against him, swaying to the beat of the music and guiding you through the steps.

When you exited the dance floor, you were sweaty and gasping, but laughing. Talsim pressed a kiss to your forehead, grinning wildly. “Your makeup’s smeary,” he said, smudging at it with his thumb. Naturally, his makeup had remained magically perfect.

“You keep ruining it with your lips,” you said. He laughed and kissed you again, this time landing successfully on your mouth. You giggled into it and felt the warm vibration of his returning chuckle.

“We should get out of here,” he said, shifting his position to nudge both of you into a darker corner. “It’s a hotel… we could get a room…” He punctuated his statements with kisses, each one lingering as his teeth teased over your skin.

“It’s expensive,” you said. Talsim had successfully maneuvered you into a secluded corner and his kisses dragged down your mouth and toward your neck.

“I’m sure I could find a nice room that’s empty and convince people to stay away for the night.” He was whispering, ghosting his mouth against your ear. His teeth pulled delicately on your earlobe.

“If your horny ass can wait a little while, we can say goodbye and drive home,” you said. Talsim sighed and pouted, but, with a final, lingering kiss, leaned back.

“Fine. I can wait.” You disentangled himself from him and sought out your parents and the bride before making your way back.

Talsim was in conversation with one of the bridesmaids. As you drew closer, you recognized her voice; it was one of the ones you’d heard discussing you in the bathroom.

Your face burned and you stopped in your tracks, trying to pluck up the courage to move closer. As if sensing your presence, Talsim turned around. “There you are, sweetness. Are we ready to go?”

“Yes,” you said, and no sooner had the word left your mouth than Talsim had swooped upon you to lock lips. You hadn’t been expecting it, but he was clearly enthusiastic.

When he broke away, you were gasping. Talsim looked very self-satisfied. “Mm. Lovely.” He put an arm over your shoulders and grinned at the bridesmaid. “I think I’m perfectly happy where I am.” He waved, then started to walk away, tugging you with him.

“What was that about?” you hissed.

“She made an indication that I would have more fun with her,” he said, “so I decided to show her exactly how much fun I can have with you.” His voice was light, but there was a hard anger in his eyes. “I assume she’s one of the ones who thought I was an escort?”

You nodded, shamefaced. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. It would have been pretty funny, until she-” He broke off abruptly.

You side-eyed him. “She what?”

“She made a comment,” Talsim said tactfully, “about you. It suggested that you must be paying me a lot to, uh.” He stopped again. “Never mind. The specifics aren’t important. She was very drunk.”

“Mm.” The cool night air stung your already-teary eyes as you stepped outside.

Talsim sighed. “Don’t.”

“I didn’t do anything,” you protested.

“You’re getting mopey again. Cut it out.” He grabbed your hand, winding his fingers through yours. “I am here with you because I love you and she’s a bitch for thinking otherwise.”

You gave a weak laugh and Talsim stopped. “Don’t believe me?” he asked. His face was suddenly in front of yours, a grin playing on his lips. “Would you like me to show you?”

His hand slipped under your chin, lifting your face to his. “I could show you how special you are to me,” he said. “Who cares what they think? Let them believe whatever they want.” He kissed the corner of your lips, teasingly chaste. “But you know that I’m here with you.” He kissed you again. “That I adore you.” Another kiss. “That nothing will ever, ever take me away from you.” Another. “You know what you have.” The kisses were starting to make you breathless and dizzy. “Can’t that be enough?”

“Slow down!” you said. Talsim drew back. “It’s… I… you’re right. It should be. I know I’m being stupid. I just thought maybe they would think better of me for once.”

“Sweetness, I have seen this sort of people before. They would find some way to undermine anything you do. Best thing is to just get away from them.” His hands repositioned on your face. “Now, I believe we were doing something rather important…”

He snagged a few more kisses before you pushed him away. “Home,” you said. “We should go home first.”

“We should,” Talsim agreed. “But we don’t have to.” You gave him a withering look and he sighed. “All right. Home first, then.”

Talsim slumped in the passenger’s seat, eyes on you as you started the car. His fingertips trailed lightly over your thigh. “You’re going to get us into an accident,” you told him. He sighed, but took his hand back.

“You’re no fun.” He sagged further in the seat, eyes closing. You focused on the road again.

“Hey.” His hand was on your leg again, but this time it was a reassuring touch. “Don’t look so sad.”

“I know it’s stupid,” you said. “They were never going to be nice to me. But I just wanted… I still want it.”

“That is stupid.” Talsim tugged his hair out of its bun and shook it down into its usual braid. “But I understand why you’re sad. You just need time.”

“Time,” you agreed. “And maybe a very good distraction?”

Your gaze was on the road, but you could see his answering grin. “Oh, I think I can do that for you.”

[sparkandwolf]

Hello! for the femslash free for all: I would love to read about Melissa McCall and Natalie Martin realizing that they are dating, or maybe the point where they have to decide one way or the other which direction their friendship is going. :)

This got... out of hand asdkjfakl;sd But I did not expect to be so inspired!! Thank you so much for requesting this pairing as I had never considered them before!! 

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

“Mom, Lydia is gonna be over in a half hour with Ms. Martin. Can they stay for dinner again?” Scott asked, tossing his bag next to the door before grabbing a bag of Doritos from the snack cabinet. Melissa sighed and crossed her arms over her chest. She didn’t need to say anything else for Scott to neatly put his backpack where it belonged. He walked over and pressed a gentle kiss to his mother’s cheek before smiling widely up at her. 

“Of course they can. You and Lydia still working on that chemistry project?” Melissa asked, smoothing Scott’s hair back from his forehead. She made a mental reminder to set him up with a haircut sooner rather than later. 

“Yeah, we’re almost done, though! We present in a few days so this is probably our last study session,” Scott said, eyeing Melissa carefully. She stared back at him, furrowing her eyebrows in confusion. 

“What is that look for?” She asked and Scott just groaned and looked up at the ceiling. 

“You really are--” Before he could finish, Scott pressed his lips closed and backed toward the stairs, --” the best mom in the entire world?” 

“Nice save, kid,” Melissa called as he ran upstairs as quickly as he could to avoid any further conversation. As she sat down on the couch and flipped absent-mindedly through the channels, she couldn’t help but think that Scott knew about the one thing she was all too aware of and trying to avoid at all costs. 

It had only been a few months that Lydia and Scott’s friendship started growing closer and closer. Melissa was happy Scott had another friend other than Stiles and Stiles seemed happy to include Lydia in their little group, so she made sure to be as warm and welcoming as she could. To Melissa, that meant making sure Lydia’s family knew they were welcome in her home just as much as Lydia was.

She had found out that Natalie had gotten divorced from her husband a few years ago and they both clicked almost immediately. A life experience like that really bonded two people and soon, any time Lydia visited the house, Natalie trailed along with her. It was more often than not that they had dessert nights and morning coffee runs and Sunday night dinners started to include the group of three kids and their single parents. Melissa told herself they were all the best of friends who cared for each other as such, but the more time she spent with both parents, the more she realized that maybe what she felt for Stiles’ father couldn’t be compared to what she felt for Natalie. 

She cursed herself for raising such a sensitive son who seemed to understand what was going on better than she did and leaned her head back against the couch with a groan. Scott made a point to mention the end of the study sessions because that meant there wouldn’t be any more excuses for Melissa and Natalie to spend time together without any other adults and really, that wouldn’t do for her. 

When the doorbell rang what seemed like seconds later, Melissa glanced at the clock and saw that it was already almost five in the evening. She should have already started dinner for the four of them. She launched off of the couch and shouted a quick, “Come in,” then made her way to the kitchen. She heard Lydia’s petite footsteps make their way up the stairs and her skin seemed to erupt in tingles when Natalie entered the room. Melissa didn’t hear her but felt her presence every time. 

“Hey, Mel,” Natalie said, walking up to the counter as if she had already made herself at home there. The thought alone had Melissa’s heart stuttering in her chest. 

“Hi, Nat! I’m glad you could come tonight. I would have usually had dinner ready by now, but Scott distracted me when he got home and I barely have even had time to empty the dishwasher let alone start putting together the lasagne you guys like so much. I hope you don’t mind waiting a little bit to eat--” Melissa could hear herself rambling but she couldn’t stop. “I could probably find some cheese and crackers or even some toasted bread with that Italian herbed oil you taught me how to make - which is so incredibly delicious I might add--” 

“Melissa…” Natalie’s voice stopped her from talking - finally, she thought in relief - and her hands rested gently on Melissa’s shoulders, her thumbs smoothing over Melissa’s collarbones lightly. It wasn’t that Natalie hadn’t touched her before, but something felt different in the way her fingertips brushed over her skin and the look in her eyes as she tried to get Melissa to catch her gaze. 

“I always said that Scott got his rambling tendencies from his father, but I think I just proved myself wrong,” Melissa said with a nervous chuckle, clearing her throat before finally looking up at Natalie. 

“Lydia told me on the way here that I have to stop pretending I don’t have feelings for you and that Scott was telling you to do the same thing. Is that what distracted you?” Natalie asked and Melissa thought her heart stopped. She nodded because even though Scott hadn’t outright said it, he knew that the insinuation would have been enough for Melissa’s mind to make the connection and spiral. 

“I’m pretty sure we’ve been dating since the beginning of this semester,” Melissa added quickly, reaching her hand up to push a stray curl away from her face. Natalie grabbed her hand before she could put it back down awkwardly at her side as it was before. Their fingers entwined slowly and Natalie’s other hand slid gently down Melissa’s arm to hold that hand, too. It would have been an almost friendly gesture if Natalie hadn’t taken another step forward. They were chest to chest and Melissa could feel Natalie’s heart beating just as fast as hers. It eased the bit of anxiety she felt bubbling in her stomach. 

“It seems we have two choices here,” Natalie began, rubbing her thumbs soothingly over the backs of Melissa’s almost trembling hands. “We can either continue on as friends in our little ‘single parents of teens’ club, or…” She trailed off and Melissa gulped nervously. 

“Or you kiss me and we pretend we haven’t been as dumb as said teens for the last few months?” Melissa guessed and Natalie’s beautiful laughter filled the air. Before she could second guess herself, Melissa leaned forward and pressed their lips together hesitantly, tugging their hands apart so she could hold Natalie’s face gently in her hands. They sighed into it, as it was a kiss that was a long time coming for both of them, and Melissa thought it couldn’t have been more perfect. 

But of course, when you have teenagers, every perfect moment is inevitably ruined. The sounds of cheerful awes and fake gagging had them breaking apart, both blushing wildly as they glared at their children. Lydia was clapping excitedly while Scott was pretending to be disgusted, but Melissa knew he was secretly happy for them. 

“It’s about damn time!” They said in unison. 

“Language!” The mom’s chastised, and it was like nothing and everything changed all at once. 

Send me WLW prompts for Femslash February

[lost-in-time-marie]

Into the Shadows: Chapter One

I stared idly at the flat, gray skies waiting for Natasha by our favorite weeping willow in the courtyard, its green sweeping leaves the only splash of color in a sea of grays and browns. Whole school years had come and gone, but the two of us still met every morning in the same spot, at the same time, before the bell rang; I liked the tradition. Thick fog wound around the students filling the small, square dirt field, the grass trampled long ago. I loved the fog and the wind and the overcast, gray skies. If I breathed in just a little deeper, I swear I could smell the fall; the decaying leaves, the hint of chill forming in the air, signaling for the winter to follow close at its heels. The wind picked up my wavy, brown hair then, swirling it around my shoulders, as if to thank me for acknowledging it. I neatly tucked it back behind my ears and instinctively hugged my soft, red jacket closer to my body. It was far too early for the September sun to break through the grey yet, but I knew in a few hours the leaves would be alight with my favorite green-gold.

         “Hey,” Natasha called, her freckled face cracking into a huge grin. My smile answered automatically.

         “Hey,” I replied, switching my thoughts to the first day of school.

         “I’m so excited! Especially for Advanced Placement Psychology,” Natasha chimed happily, her brown eyes lighting with excitement. I always teased her because her brown eyes were the exact shade of brown as the freckles that speckled her face and body. She did not particularly like such facts being pointed out to her, and I could picture the exact dark scowl she would pull her face down into at the mere mention of such subjects. Something was off about her appearance; it took me a moment to place it. Her usual long locks had been sheared off to above her shoulders, in what I knew was a last-minute decision to start off this school year different than all the others. Despite her tireless attempts at straightening the ridiculous curls every morning, the wind seemed to take great delight in ruining it her first step out the door.

         “I know,” I replied with a groan, “You’ve said so at least every minute since school let out last year.”

         “I know, I know, but still it’s going to be great!” she enthused, practically bouncing in place. I rolled my eyes.

“I like your haircut by the way,” I smiled. If I responded more than a few sentences before acknowledging such a crucial change, I certainly would suffer for it later.

She smiled, knowing my thoughts without me having to say them. “Thank you,” she said, touching the curls self-consciously. Shortly after catching up with our other friends in the courtyard, the bell rang. All of us seasoned citizens of this school, no one jumped, we merely begrudgingly separated off toward class, roused by the unseen compulsion.

         I pulled a folded piece of paper from my jeans pocket and remembered my first period to be Acting 1 with Mrs. Robertson. Acting wasn’t particularly interesting or my cup of tea, but I couldn’t get Ceramics 1 with my schedule so I was forced to have Acting as my fine art credit. Mrs. Robertson was one of my teachers freshmen year, she loved me; this class would be a breeze.

         I weaved easily through the crowd of students filing into the school and made my way up the stairs to Mrs. Robertson’s room; being petite and short had its advantages at times. Bright, sentimental posters plastering the walls and desks paired in twos greeted me upon entering Mrs. Robertson’s room. It was like something out of kindergarten. I barely concealed my cringe. Mrs. Robertson stood at the front of the classroom in a blinding yellow sundress writing “Welcome Students!” on the whiteboard in careful cursive. The few students who milled around the room I recognized, this was not surprising, our high school being small and suburban.

         “Hello, Kristin, it’s nice to see you again this year,” Mrs. Robertson greeted me cheerily. She hadn’t changed at all in the three years since I last had her class last. Her blonde hair lay neatly in short layers tucked behind her ears, bright blue eyes still holding a smile for everyone, and a stature almost impossibly smaller than even mine somehow. It always bothered me how eerily happy and cheerful she was. I tried not to stare directly at her, it kind of felt like looking at the sun with her exuberant attitude and too bright dress.

         “You too, Mrs. Robertson,” I replied with a smile, portraying none of my true feelings. I walked over to a desk and took a seat.

         “Oh, I’m giving you seats in alphabetical order when the bell rings. Just stand at the back wall until we are ready,” Mrs. Robertson ordered me brightly. I did as she said, stifling a sigh. I watched the other students pour into the classroom and line up beside me after much prodding from Mrs. Robertson. She had almost no authority with the other students because she didn’t like to be stern, it was a rare event when a student actually listened to her.

         “Alright class, please line up against the wall. I’m giving you assigned seats in alphabetical order,” Mrs. Robertson called, her cheerful voice never faltering. I leaned against the back wall, waiting for her to control the class and call my name.

         “Ryder Grim, Kristin Hart,” She called several minutes later, having finally made some progress towards conducting a classroom. I walked to the pair of desks she stood beside and took the one she pointed to. The intense stares of my classmates weighed on me, heavy and palpable. I resisted the urge to bury myself right then and there. A guy sat in the other desk beside me. I didn’t recognize the name. Strange, thanks to Natasha’s insufferable curiosity I thought I knew all the seniors at this school. I peered at Ryder from the corner of my eye, using a thin veil of wavy brown hair to hide my gaze. His jet-black hair was gelled and stylishly tousled, almost long enough to hang in his eyes, which were the brightest green I had ever seen. Coupled with snow white, flawless skin and wiry muscles, he was quite a sight, even more so because I realized I really didn’t recognize him at all.

         “Kristin, this is Ryder, he’s new to our school this year, please be a dear and help him out,” Mrs. Robertson instructed, standing over my desk. I nodded obediently, and with a merry smile she returned to calling out names and assigning desks. Relief swallowed me as attention gradually shifted away from us again. I guess that explained things at least. A pang of pity sliced through me unexpectedly. All my awkward, lonely past first days of school as the new kid in town suddenly flashed behind my eyes. I turned to Ryder, determined to be welcoming, despite my usual shyness.

“I’m Kristin, it’s nice to meet you,” I introduced politely.

         “Ryder, pleasure,” He said curtly, his words harsh and clipped as if meeting me was absolutely the worst ordeal in the world. A flicker of surprise skipped through me, followed by an unwanted wave of rejection. I didn’t often go out of my way to reach out to others, and I certainly wasn’t expecting such a vehement response to a usually harmless gesture. He kept his stony, bright green eyes forward without even a glance in my direction. I worked to bite my sharp tongue and resist the urge to say something that would force him to turn to look at me, my instinct being to lash out with the hurt.

         “Well you seem nice,” I retorted sarcastically, half to myself. Well, at least I tried.

“I do my best,” He sneered coldly. I rolled my eyes and focused on class until the bell chimed again, refusing to engage him further. Now I could have a whole new reason to dread this class every morning.

         The class passed quicker than I expected; much to my delight. Most of the class period was wasted assigning seats and getting students to behave, the rest was spent just going over the syllabus, rules, and future class assignments; generic first day business. Ryder’s presence nagged at me through the entirety of the period, like a fly relishing in buzzing specifically in my ear. The bell rang. I jumped from my seat and fled to the hall, eager to retreat from my icy partner, the tangible tension between us was beginning to suffocate me towards the end.

         “Your partner seems super friendly,” A breathy voice called from behind me. I turned to see a short, plump girl with short black hair and a sweet smile.  

         “Oh hey, Katy, I didn’t even see you, we have Acting together?” I asked, slowing my stride to wait up for her. Katy’s smiled beamed at me from her round face, as always. She was the sweetest girl, kind to everyone, it was easy to quickly become her friend.

         “Yes,” She replied happily, almost childlike.

         “I’m so glad we have classes together this year too. I feel like I didn’t see you nearly enough this summer,” I commented with genuine pleasure. Katy wasn’t my best friend like Natasha or anything, but she had always been kind to me when Natasha and I got in a riff or when we shared classes in past school years. She let her layered black hair fall in her face as she asked to see my schedule. I pulled my schedule from my pocket again to compare, discovering Katy and I shared only one other class.

         “So who was that guy?” asked Katy, round cheeks turning bright red.

         “Ryder? I don’t know, he only said two words to me the whole class. He was pretty rude, actually,” I answered with a shrug.

         “That’s so weird, but he was seriously hot,” She admitted, grinning wildly and nudging my arm.

         I gave her a wry smile before replying, “Do not even think about it.”

         “Oh, come on! It’s been forever since you dated anyone! Eighth grade to be exact.” Katy prodded, wagging her eyebrows at me.

         I laughed, “Yes and I plan to keep it that way for a while longer. Ryder is a rude jerk and I’d consider myself lucky if I never had anything to do with him again! Besides, I’m headed off to college after this year, why would I want to start a relationship now?”

         “You’re so critical, maybe he’s just...shy? He is new this year” She replied, always coming to the defense of others.

         “Yeah, I sincerely doubt it. If it makes you feel better, I’ll see what Natasha knows about him,” I supplied, sneakily negotiating an escape. Katy’s grin collapsed and her full, pink lips pulled down. I sighed.

         “I really wish you and Natasha would just get along,” I said, shaking my head, but secretly happy for the redirection of conversation.

Katy snorted, “Unlikely.”

I rounded the corner approaching my class and Katy waved goodbye as she headed in the opposite direction to her next period. Just as I reached my next class, I noticed Ryder standing in the hall with his schedule in one hand and a map in the other. He twisted the map around and furrowed his brows; if he stared at the paper any more intently it would just spontaneously combust.

         I sighed and approached him, silently cursing my better nature. “What class are you going to?” I asked, just barely attempting civility. I was a sucker for people in need, even for rude jerks that made bad first impressions. Doesn’t everyone deserve a second chance?

         He jumped and turned to me. He was even more handsome when I stared at him directly. The paleness of his skin was striking against such dark black hair and his green eyes were practically luminescent. I quickly pushed that thought from my mind, not even wanting to admit it’d skidded through.

“Look, I don’t need your help, I can get around on my own,” He replied stonily.

         “What is your problem? I’m trying to help you! Why do you have to be so stubborn?!” I practically yelled, my temper flaring sharply. I snatched the schedule and map from his hand. I angled the map the right way and shoved it back at him.

         “Your next class is down the hall, third door on the right,” I fumed, relinquishing the schedule to him before turning sharply on my heel and stalking angrily to class. I should have just let him wonder lost, maybe he would have left, I half wished silently.

         I didn’t understand quite why I hated Ryder Grim so much already, especially when it was quite a feat to even make me angry, let alone produce hate. Perhaps it was the stubborn way he refused help or the insolent way he directed his every word in the direction of others. I liked to think I was above being hurt by his rejection at my attempt to be friendly to the new kid. It might even be jealousy at his utter perfection compared to my awkward, clumsy mannerisms. Regardless, he made my skin heat, my muscles itch to hit him, and more than anything, he made me not want to be within a ten-mile radius of him. I tried to simmer down and feign indifference, but I knew myself better.

         Besides that incident, I refused to allow my mind to recollect the boiling irritation of earlier, the rest of the day passed rather easily. We did all the usual first day of school nonsense.  AP Government followed into Calculus which turned into AP Literature then Lunch trailed by Teacher Assisting to AP Chemistry, and finally my long-awaited AP Psychology. A teacher named Sinclair taught AP Psychology, I had had a class of his every year since I started high school, as had Natasha; he was the best teacher on campus and everyone’s favorite.

I barely saw Ryder after first period, I let out a silent thank you to whoever was listening for that small stroke of luck. He was in my Chemistry class, but I sat as far away from him as the classroom would allow. Every time I saw him, I just got more and more steamed until even his name made me want to spit fire.

         I rushed for Sinclair’s class just in time to see Natasha practically dance through the door. I had only really seen Natasha in between classes. Natasha was in my AP Government class and this class, but that was it, not including lunch. Most teachers knew well enough now to separate us, or she would talk all through class. I followed her inside and we took our usual seats beside each other. Sinclair was different, there was an unspoken expectation in his classroom that not even Natasha dared challenge. We caught up with each other and asked about how school had gone so far, both of us had good things to report and I had all but forgotten my early morning encounter with Ryder. Unfortunately, the next time I glanced up he was walking briskly across the classroom and took a seat at the very back.

         I was careful to compose myself around Natasha, lest I give away my true displeasure, but she was too quick and knew me too well.

         “I see you’ve met the newest addition to our campus already,” Natasha mused, seeing right through me.  

“Ugh! Not him again,” I groaned, not hesitating to unleash the true force of my annoyance from this morning now that I was discovered. I hastily recapped the events of the morning for her benefit.

         Natasha laughed. “Wow, you hate someone already and it’s just the first day of school, you’ve learned so well from me,” she beamed with pride.

I shook my head, “Please, he’s just another stupid, immature boy to add to the already overly healthy collection at this school,” I muttered, stealing a glance in his direction at the back of the room. He sat perfectly straight and barely moving, looking very much like a statue.

         The late bell rang then, and Sinclair swept into the classroom with a brain in his hand. A fake brain, of course. Sinclair always rolled into class just as the late bell rang with some mysterious prop which our lesson for the day would focus on. It’s why everyone loved his class, he kept things interesting and didn’t waste time on stupid things like a syllabus or rules. That, and, in a lot of ways, he was kind of like a kid himself.

         “My name is Sinclair. Not Mr. Sinclair, that was my father’s name, just Sinclair or sir. The rules are: no cell phones, don’t talk while I’m talking, and do as I tell you. Follow the rules and we’ll have lots of fun, break the rules and your life in this class will be hell,” Sinclair explained in a stern, booming voice. New kids would be fooled by this strict façade, although Sinclair knew how to control a classroom, he loved all his students and made everything very fun. He gave the same introduction at the beginning of every year. “I gave you all a syllabus at orientation, I’m not going to waste time going over it with you, you can all read by now I hope,” he continued, several repeat students of his, like Natasha and I, laughed, “Today, we’re going to talk about the brain.” The rest of the class he showed us diagrams and models of the brain explaining each part and its role, it was all very fascinating. Natasha ate up every word and took notes. I’d never seen her so motivated. Sinclair had that strange effect on his students, no one wanted to disappoint him because no one could be disappointed in quite the same way Sinclair could be disappointed in you. Class passed quicker than I would have liked, at the last ten minutes he had us break off into groups to become more familiar with the brain models.

         “You know that guy you were talking about earlier? Ryder Grim? I heard about him earlier,” Natasha whispered to me as we broke apart models of the brain to peer inside. Natasha dealt in information. Every school had a rumor mill, but half of the information was false or misconceived. Natasha knew just about everything about everyone and all of it was one hundred percent true. I’m not particularly unpopular or popular, but Natasha hated about seventy-five percent of our school population and the other 24.5% was acquaintances, that last .5% was her real friends, like me. How she got all her information with that kind of social order astounded me, but I never asked, somehow, with Natasha, I was almost afraid to find out. Don’t be fooled though, she did spread a lot of information around school, but if I or anyone else told her a secret they didn’t want to get out, she would take it to her grave.

         I sighed and chuckled, “Why am I not surprised?”

         “Because you know me too well,” She answered with a devious smile, “Anyways, I heard he just moved here to live with his uncle, not too far from you actually. A lot of girls are already swooning over him, too. He’s in one of my classes.”

“How do you ever actually get work done with all this gossiping?” I joked, shaking my head.

“Work? What is this work you speak of?” Natasha asked in mock confusion, tilting her head so short, brown ringlets fell over her face.

I laughed, “I don’t even really care anymore, he’s just a jerk, and I’m not going to let him or anyone else bother me this year,” I vowed. The bell rang making us all jump, this time with eagerness to follow its prompting, as this bell released us home. I hoisted on my loaded down backpack and walked with Natasha to her white Prius.

[winryofresembool]

Things We Lost in the Fire, ch 6

aka Caleo uni au

Fic summary: Calypso starts studying at a new university, but to her annoyance her new flatmate is a loud mouthed mechanic who also likes to sneak his dog in whenever. But as she learns to know him better, she realizes they might have more in common than what she first thought. Eventually, even the darkest secrets come out…

Chapter summary: Calypso gets a makeover.

Characters in this ch: Calypso, Annabeth, Piper, Leo

Words: 3233 (a long one :O)

Genre: romance & hurt/comfort

Warnings: none

previous chapter / next chapter / AO3

...

“So, Greek is your native language? That’s so cool!” Annabeth exclaimed as she and Calypso were on their way to a nearby mall to purchase new things for the new semester. “I’ve been trying to learn Ancient Greek just for fun but it’s harder than you’d think, I’m not very good yet.”

“Yeah,” Calypso nodded understandingly. “I’ve been living here since I was about 10 so I’d like to think that my English is fine now – apart from the accent – but it took me half a year to actually start speaking English in the class when I started school here… And I was homeschooled during my high school years so it was hard to maintain the language skills. It’s nice to be able to communicate with other students face to face now,” Calypso said with a sad undertone that Annabeth didn’t miss.

“You were homeschooled?” she asked with surprise. “Any special reason for that?”

Calypso didn’t know what to answer to that. The truth was very hurtful and she hadn’t ever told anyone about it, much less someone she had known less than a week. That’s why she tried to smooth it out as much as she could when she answered: “Um… My father seemed to think it was a safer option than going to a public school.” She shrugged. Annabeth didn’t ask more questions, probably thinking that her answer seemed acceptable.

“Makes sense. I’ve done a lot of studying at home too, mostly because I have ADHD and dyslexia so learning isn’t as easy to me as it is to some.” That information surprised Calypso.

“But… Sorry for the assumption but to me you seem like the type who always wants to be on the top of her class.”

“You guessed right.” Annabeth smiled. “But it hasn’t been an easy road. I have had to try a lot of learning methods before I finally found some that worked for me and made it easier for me to focus. Luckily these days there are a lot of audiobooks and other options for dyslexic learners so… it’s not so bad.”

“Right,” Calypso said. The conversation ended because they had finally arrived at their destination. Calypso had brought very little with her into her new home - just the most essential clothes and other everyday items - so there was plenty she needed. However, she also needed to figure out where to get more money once she was done with the shopping. She had some savings on her bank account thanks to helping her dad with his business (mainly stuff like paying bills and writing emails on his behalf) and because a dead relative had left her some money in her will, but those would only last for a couple of months. She had considered her options and one of them was opening an online shop where she’d sell things she’d herself made, from clothes (she was pretty handy with both knitting and sewing) to decorative objects such as jewellery and ceramic pots. The issue with the latter option was that she had no place to make them; the room she currently had was too small and Leo probably wouldn’t be thrilled if she turned their common area into a workshop.

“So,” she turned to Annabeth as they were checking a display at a bookstore. “This might be a bit of a random question, but do you have to work to pay for your studies?”

“Oh, yeah, I do!” Annabeth answered. “My dad would have helped but we’ve never been that close and I don’t feel it’s fair so I give children art classes and sometimes tutor them in various subjects. It also helps that I live together with my boyfriend so we can split our bills…”

“You said earlier that he’s a swimmer, right?” Calypso remembered from their earlier conversation. “I used to know one who I think is pretty good these days. But I haven’t kept in touch with him for a couple of years.”

“Oh? What’s his name?” Annabeth inquired. “I might know him?”

Calypso was about to answer when she suddenly spotted a couple of people she knew in the crowd outside the bookstore. She inhaled sharply and pulled Annabeth farther from that direction, hiding behind her.

“No, no… that can’t be… how would they know…” she muttered to herself.

“What’s wrong?” Annabeth asked, trying to see what had caused Calypso’s reaction.

“I… just saw some people I don’t want to find me. It’s a long story. But we should go.” Calypso said as quietly as she could, nodding towards the entrance of the mall.

“But we just came here…”

“I’m sorry!” Calypso bit her lip. “I really don’t want him to see me. We can go to some other place.”

“Fine,” Annabeth agreed, still glancing to the direction where the mysterious person had been. “There’s another shopping center nearby.”

Once they were safely outside, she asked: “What was that about?”

“I wish I could tell you but I don’t want you to get involved in this mess…” Calypso said, wrapping her arms around herself protectively. “But this is bad, they might have a clue I’m here… I don’t know what they’d do if…”

“You don’t make any sense now,” Annabeth noted bluntly. “But OK, someone is looking for you and you don’t want them to find you. I know we haven’t known each other long, but you can trust me. I’ll help you out if you need it.”

“Thanks,” Calypso said gratefully. “Right now, the farther I am from those people, the better.”

“What are we waiting for, then?” the blonde girl tugged on her sleeve and started running like a little child. “Let’s go!” she said, smiling as she ran farther from Calypso, and she couldn’t help but follow her.

…

In another shopping center Calypso spotted a hair salon, which gave her an idea. She figured that if she looked different than before escaping her childhood home, the men who worked for her father would have a harder time recognizing her. That meant a new haircut, new clothes, and possibly different kinds of make-up too. She didn’t usually use a lot of products on her face – mascara and lipgloss were her go-to make-up items – but maybe Annabeth would be able to help her with that.

“I… should probably use my money on more important things, but do you happen to know anyone who’d be willing to give me a haircut? And maybe even help with dyeing it?” Calypso asked while looking at the ads on the wall of the hair salon.

“You want to cut it?” Annabeth eyed her long, caramel colored hair that had been braided. “I thought it looks so pretty now.”

Calypso mumbled something about wanting to start kind of from a clean slate in a new place, not wanting to go too deep into her reasons.

“I understand.” The other girl nodded. “As for your question, yes, I happen to know just the person! My friend Piper McLean is quite experienced in that field because one of her sisters is a hairdresser and she taught Piper to cut her hair. She’s helped me sometimes too!”

“Piper?” The name reminded Calypso of something. Then she realized that she had heard Leo mention a girl named Piper the other day. “That is not a very common name here, is it? I mean, I think my flatmate knows someone called Piper too…”

“Now that you mention it, I think it might indeed be the same Piper,” Annabeth realized. “She does talk about Leo sometimes; apparently they are good friends. Somehow I’ve yet to meet him, though.” Calypso from a couple of days ago might have said that Annabeth really hasn’t missed much, but something had changed after the conversation with him the other day. She no longer felt annoyed simply by the mention of his name, and even though she didn’t really want to admit it, there was a part of her that wanted to know more about him. Something bad, apparently related to fire, had happened in his past that he kept inside him, and when Calypso thought about it, she couldn’t help but feel for him… She too had lost a lot. But then she shook her head because now was not the time to get stuck in her past.

“Maybe you will meet him if you come to our flat at some point; he’s home working a lot,” she answered instead.

“Maybe!” Annabeth said enthusiastically. “I’d like to know what all the fuss is about because somehow I seem to have a lot of connections towards him. First my boyfriend, then Piper, and now you too.”

“Small world, huh?” Calypso smiled. Annabeth agreed and after they paid for their purchases she proceeded to call Piper to ask if she’d be willing to help a friend out. Piper had nothing against that. They decided to meet up at Leo and Calypso’s flat in a few hours because it was closer to their current whereabouts than Annabeth and Piper’s homes.

...

About two hours later, Calypso’s wallet was notably lighter, but she had gotten herself a new, pink everyday dress, a jacket, shoes that matched the dress, a light blue shirt, some make-up products (for which she had had to ask the shop assistant’s help) and henna hair dye. She had debated on her color options for a good while, but ended up on the orange-ish because it wasn’t too far from her own hair color (she didn’t want too radical changes when she was dying her hair for the first time) and she also liked using natural, organic products when possible.

“Thanks for coming with me!” Calypso told Annabeth happily when they were finally back at her flat. “You were a big help.”

“No big deal,” Annabeth said back. “I’m always happy to help a friend. Not that you needed it a lot.”

“I meant more than just shopping wise,” Calypso said, looking down at her feet. “I don’t know how I would have reacted if I had been alone when…”

Annabeth understood she was referring to the strangers who had frightened her.

“You still don’t want to talk about that?” she asked carefully.

“I’d rather not,” Calypso shook her head. “It’s… a part of my life that I’m trying to leave behind me.”

Annabeth narrowed her eyes. “Can I ask you one question, though? You know those guys and they know you? And they’re searching for you?”

“I… I don’t know what they were really doing here. It could have been a total coincidence. I mean, only you knew we were going to be at that mall so it feels impossible that they would have known…” Calypso rubbed her forehead tiredly.

“You’re not trying to run away from the police or anything? Sorry, I just had to ask.”

“No, no!” Calypso lifted her hands in front of her defensively. “They are from my dad’s company… it’s complicated.”

That was Annabeth’s cue to stop asking more questions. She figured that Calypso would tell her with time if she let it be. The atmosphere started getting a bit awkward so both of the girls were relieved when Annabeth’s phone rang and Piper announced she was waiting at the front door. Calypso let her in.

“So you’re the famous Calypso!” she exclaimed the moment she saw her.

“Famous?” Calypso asked, her eyebrows raising.

“I just meant that Leo has talked quite a lot about you,” she grinned cheekily. Calypso couldn’t help but notice that the girl was very pretty, with mysterious multicolored eyes and brown hair that suited her even though it was cut unevenly. She secretly hoped that she had made it look like that on purpose and it didn’t show her real hair cutting skills.

“He has?” Calypso asked. “I bet he’s said nothing good about me…”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Piper replied, “he may seem a bit rude on the surface but I promise that he’s actually much nicer than what he looks like. Just awkward around new people. So, no, he hasn’t said anything that would make me hate you.”

“That’s a relief, especially since you’re supposed to use the scissors near me soon,” Calypso attempted to joke and to her relief Piper laughed at it.

“Anyways, as I’m sure you already know, I’m Piper.” She shook Calypso’s hand. “I hope you don’t mind me coming into your flat even though we are just meeting right now.”

“Oh, no problem!” Calypso reassured her. “I trust Annabeth’s judgement on friends.”

“Not Leo’s, though?” The corner of Piper’s mouth raised with amusement.

“Uh…” Calypso rubbed her neck. “We’ve had a slightly weird start but I think we have made a bit of progress in the past few days, though.”

“So he has talked to you like he promised?” Piper asked.

“Well, however you take it. The fire alarm started acting up yesterday and he fixed it. And I did learn some new things about him meanwhile,” Calypso confessed.

“Such as?”

“Either he’s really afraid of the voice of the fire alarm… or then the thing that causes it,” Calypso said vaguely, trying to see from Piper’s reaction if she knew something she didn’t.

“His home burned when he was a child,” Piper revealed. “He was only 8. It was pretty traumatizing for him so you’d probably do well if you didn’t ask about it. He’ll tell you more when he’s ready.”

Calypso could relate to that feeling because she had literally only moments before told Annabeth that she wasn’t ready to talk about her background.

“He mentioned something about a fire the other day but he was pretty vague about it… But anyway, that explains why he wasn’t thrilled when I was going to use the matches…” Calypso noted and the other two hummed in agreement. To lighten the mood, Piper decided to change the subject:

“Anyway, I believe I came here for a makeover, so maybe we should get started!” she said happily, gesturing towards the items she brought.

…

A couple of hours later, Piper had performed her magic and Calypso looked almost like a different person. Her hair, which used to reach her bottom, was now shoulder length and orange-ish instead of caramel blonde. Piper would have agreed to cut a fringe as well, but Calypso refused. The brunette was also a rather skilled make-up artist (she didn’t wear a lot of make-up herself, but her mother was extremely enthusiastic about all things beauty related and had taught her from a young age. Piper claimed she’d be proud if she saw her now) and she taught Calypso some simple tricks to do her everyday make-up. Turned out she didn’t need much: her skin was naturally smooth and her eyelashes long and dark. To complete the look, Calypso put on her new dress, and the other two girls cheered when she showed them it.

“I’d say mission successful!” Piper exclaimed, clapping her hands. “Even my mom would approve.”

“You think so?” Calypso asked shyly, still trying to get used to her new look.

“Definitely,” Annabeth agreed as well.

“Can I offer you something as a thanks?” Calypso suggested. “Coffee? Tea? Juice? I think I have some pie left from the other day as well unless Leo has stolen it…”

“Tea sounds good,” Piper nodded approvingly and the girls moved into the common area.

“Leo doesn’t seem to be home?” she asked Calypso when she started boiling the tea water. “And here I thought he’s always here building something.”

“I think he mentioned something about a sparring session…” Calypso shrugged. “I didn’t ask more about that.”

“Oh yeah, sometimes he and Jason and a couple of other friends do that but I know Jason wasn’t going to go anywhere today, he has a deadline for an assignment…”

The girls were still wondering the mystery of Leo’s whereabouts when keys started clinging by the front door and soon it opened. A smile spread on Leo’s face when he recognized Piper who sat on the kitchen counter.

“Speaking of the devil, there he is,” the brunette stated before Leo had time to say anything, making the boy confused.

“Pipes, what are you doing here? How did you get in?”

“I was with Calypso and Annabeth, duh,” she answered, gesturing at the two girls that Leo hadn’t noticed until that moment.

“I didn’t know you knew Calypso,” Leo stated before turning his attention properly to the two other girls. First he nodded at Annabeth who was sitting by the dining table and started introducing himself: “Hi, I’m Le...wow”

“What?” Annabeth snorted but didn’t get a reply because Leo had finally noticed that his flatmate looked very different from before. In a good way.

Calypso was frozen in her spot with a teapot in her hand, blushing when she felt Leo’s stare at her. But Leo didn’t notice that. He noticed how the make-up brought out her almond shaped eyes (Leo wondered how he had never noticed before that they were so dark brown that they almost looked black), how the dress she was wearing reminded him of one his mom had worn often during the holidays, and how the short hair curled cutely from the ends, tickling her jaw a bit. If he was honest with himself (which he tried hard not to be), he had previously thought she couldn’t possibly be prettier than she already was, but clearly he had been proven wrong. He had to bite his lip to not curse out loud (because he would NOT have a crush on his flatmate).

“Well? What do you think?” Piper asked when the silence that had fallen into the room was about to get awkward. “We had a small makeover here.”

“I… uh… she looks… good?” Leo stammered, feeling the heat rise all the way to his ears. In reality, he had to gather all his willpower to stop himself from using all the extravagant words he often used to describe his work (usually as a joke). Because he did like what he saw, he couldn’t deny that no matter what.

“Good? Calypso, his ears say otherwise. I’ve never seen them that red.” Piper teased.

“Shut it, Beauty Queen. “ Leo mustered the most burning expression he was capable of making.

Piper didn’t care. “Just so you know, Calypso, he’s used that name as a joke since we learned to know each other, so don’t think that he thinks of me that way. I have a boyfriend.” Calypso smiled at her awkwardly.

“Yeah, and sometimes I don’t get why Jason stands you. Estas loca.” Leo shook his head before withdrawing into his own room.

“Aww, he goes for Spanish when he’s nervous, Cal. I think you really made quite an impression,” Piper laughed, not caring about Leo’s reaction.

“Was that necessary, though?” Calypso asked, feeling almost as flustered as Leo a moment before.

“Don’t worry about it. We just like to make fun of him.” Piper shrugged. “He won’t be mad long.”

“But…” Calypso started, not knowing what to make of Leo’s reaction. Had he really liked her new look? Why had he gotten so flustered? Finally, she decided she must have been overthinking it. “Uh, never mind. Anyway, thanks for the help, Piper. What do I owe you for this?”

“Nothing. But please invite me over more often. I think we are gonna have fun together!”

[imaginesandideas]

I’m in love with my funster

a collection of snippets from your life with Roger

I did it! Here’s my gift for all of my lovely 1.3k followers and for sticking with me throughout this hell of a year. Hope you’ll enjoy, cheers! 🥂✨

it’s the last monday of the decade yay!!

writer’s note: read as separate stories or following chapters

~~~~~

“How was it!?” You jumped on the seat beside Roger, successfully scaring him shitless.

“Christ! You want me dead, huh?”

“Oh please. If I wanted you dead I wouldn’t have asked first.” You cheerfully exclaim while making yourself comfortable on a couch next to him. It’s the middle of the week and your dear friend of many years prior has just gotten back from a set-up date. Of course you’ve arranged it since he wouldn’t stop whining about how he longs for something more real than hookups he’s been having on the regular. And now you’re more than keen on hearing all the details.

“So?”

“So?”

“Stop mocking me Taylor! How was the date?!” You jump in your seat excitedly and he just stares at you with that doe-eyed puppy look on his face. If he only looked like that at that girl... she’d be his in a matter of seconds.

“Well, not great you know...”

“Ow.”

“Yeah. I mean, uh, she’s a fine looking lady, not stupid either. ‘S just that, y’know... I didn’t feel anything special.”

You inch closer to pat his back comfortingly. He’s your mate after all, you were really rooting for him.

“I’m sorry Rog. I’m sure-“

“There’s that other one though.” He doesn’t even sound upset and you barely can keep up with his changing spirit.

“Well okay then. Do I know her?”

“Partially. But I’m pretty sure you’ve heard a lot about her. I need to get her to come with me to that Italian spot they just opened around the corner.”

“Yes Roger! You already think like a romantic!” You nod enthusiastically but his eyes are so different. They’re hooded like he’s already planned something evil and you know you won’t be able to stop him if he actually did. 

And he keeps smiling sweetly. His whole aura is so bizarre. Like he’s an angel or a serial killer, that you can’t quite decide yet.

“What’s that look, huh? You need me to help you out with it or something?”

To your own surprise he laughs.

“Actually - yes. I mean, there’s no way a girl like you would agree on a date with me, so... maybe a tip or a trick for forcing her to go out with me would be nice.”

A girl like you. You shake you head and start thinking of ideas. But it’s really hard to focus with those dreamy eyes following your every movement.

And did he just compare a girl of his dreams to you?

“Okay, so maybe- no that’s bad. Hm...” You sit back with your arms crossed over your chest and he replicates it. Only he cannot seem to wash that look off his face. “Maybe tell her to give you that one shot y’know? And promise to fuck off later if she’s still not interested?”

“Would you give me that shot?”

“Yeah I guess? We’re friends anyway, so I couldn’t be mad at you forever if it turned out terrible.”

“Deal.” He sits up suddenly and before you can even react his lips are gently pressed to yours. When he pulls back your face is a mix of shock and perplexity. “See you at 6 tomorrow aye? Just dress nicely love. It’s our first date.”

 And he was gone. Before you could blink he was out the door, happy as a clam. It was adorable. And suddenly you’re left with the realisation that you’ve managed to miss all signs that he’s been sending your way for years, and that you’re set for a date that you don’t have an outfit for.

~~~~~

“Can’t we just cancel it?” Roger pleaded in between kisses he placed adoringly on the exposed skin of your plunging neckline. His hands running down your sides to change direction on your thighs, exploring underneath the material of your dress.

“Roger, they’re... a-already on the way.” You gasped out, encouragingly.

“What was that?”

“Huh?” you opened your eyes to meet his blue ones, so close you could note all the slightest shades of grey in them. And his brash expression.

“You don’t really want them to come now, do ya?”

Rolling your eyes and huffing ever so slightly, you gripped his forearms in attempt to push him away enough to roll off the couch, but he sensed your plans and laid on top of you, trapping your body under his own.

“Rog.”

“Oh don’t get upset on me now! What can I do? You look blinding today love, can’t help but wish they weren’t coming.” He was grinning, lewd gaze wandering down your throat, followed by trace of index finger. You let yourself sink back into comfort of the couch, let his worshipping eyes and fingers work their magic. You were soaked in a matter of seconds and that thin fabric between your legs was not enough to cover it up. Just like your dress was not enough to cover your decency as Roger dived in lifting the material to attack your thighs with his perfect teeth. And you could feel his swift, calloused fingers climbing up, building up the tension that begged to be relieved. So wrong, so inappropriate.

“Oh for fucks sake!”

“Shit! They’re here!” You whisper-yelled sitting up rapidly. The knocking intensifies with each passing second which only made Roger groan in frustration.

“Can we hide? Act like we’re not at home or something?”

“Oh Rogie.” You roll your eyes and gently push him off you and he lands on his back between the pillows, completely resigned. And visibly flustered.

Was it your fault? Yes. But you just couldn’t help the perfect opportunity and now it came around the corner and right to your doormat. Quite literally.

You were at the door in a blink of an eye, passing by a mirror to fix your disheveled hair and adjust the hem of your dress that rode up far too high to be considered presentable. Just mere seconds before, you were having a heated makeout on a couch, hands desperately seeking skin to skin contact. And now?

“Get up blondie! The quicker we wrap this visit up, the quicker we get to finish what we started.” He only responded with another muffled groan.

“I got rid of my panties if that changes anything for you.”

~~~~~

“I don’t understand why would you put so much milk there.” You glance up from your mug frowning.

“Why do you care? It’s my coffee not yours.”

Roger rolls his eyes leaning back in the armchair and folding back that newspaper he’s been passionately reading for the past hour.

“Yeah but what’s the point of espresso when you add so much milk to it?”

You chuckle and place the mug on coffee table that separates his armchair from the comfort of sofa you’re sitting on.

“First - it’s not so much. It’s cappuccino and it’s supposed to have milk in it.” You reach for blanket on the other corner of the sofa and continue your point. “Second - you drink way too much black coffee and I’m pretty sure it affects your moods.”

He sniggers at your exclamation and sits up straight. You know you just struck a nerve.

“I beg you pardon, love? I need it to function alright. Morning coffee, pack of cigarettes and newspaper is a inseparable set. It keeps my mind bright.”

You sigh tucking yourself under the duvet. There is no point in continuing the argument, but you know Roger’s restless nature will make him do that nevertheless. You gaze up to his awaiting your comment expression and even more antsy demeanour. His brows has ridden up ever so slightly, as if to signalise that he’s expecting some sort of snarky remark coming from you. Only you weren’t in the mood to fight so you just shrug instead reaching for the book you brought yourself to catch up on.

“That’s it? You’re not going to fight me on this? Prove your poor excuse for a point?”

“These are your habits not mine, I’m not about to throw a tantrum over your own life choices.”

“Y-you what?” If you’d dare to look up from your book you’d be able to see mouth-agape shock turning quickly into a deep frown topped with his brows and wrinkles forming a combination of waves. “What, now you don’t care about m-my life choices?”

“Not a bit.”

“Wow.”

“What?” Fed up you finally turn your head up and he’s up, arms at sides.

“You have someone else, don’t you?”

“Oh god. Roger Meddows Taylor, you’re really overdosing caffeine...”

~~~~~

“Roger what the fuck!”

“Surprise?” You were supposed to meet him at the airport. Regular welcome-home hugs and all that before you two would head home, eager to finally spend some time together. Yeah. Only Roger didn’t leave for tour this time, and knowing his bandmates you were about to spend the rest of the day hearing stories about all the dumb shit they’ve gotten themselves into.

You weren’t angry at Rog, they were his best friends after all. Only you couldn’t help but get that tingling feeling at the back of your head that one day they’re going to get themselves into some sort trouble. But in your most inventive dreams you did not expect this.

Your hands mindlessly reach out to touch the top of his head, expression depicting various stages of shock you were currently going through.

“You like it?”

“Wha-I, oh god. What were you thinking?!” You cannot help the bugging of your eyes as your fingers could barely hold the strands of hair you once could tug at so deliciously. The smooth, luscious golden waves were gone and instead you were met with much shorter, mullet-like rather irritating haircut. You survived the sideburns, you survived occasional wigs for gigs (and giggles). But this? This was too much. Now he almost looked like every other guy you’d see on the street these days. Almost. “Can you at least explain why?”

He sighs and pulls you closer by your hips, palms coming to rest above the curve of your ass. But you’re more than determined to receive a reasonable explanation, so you build a visible barrier with your arms crossed over your chest and brow raised expectantly.

“Can we discuss it later love? We’re in the middle of the airport.”

“What did you do?”

“_____, love-“

“Rog what was it?”

He sighs, his hands coming up to rub circles around his eye sockets. And you’re waiting. Impatiently waiting and observing how his skin is becoming increasingly red with each passing second. He’s embarrassed and it only makes the rate of your anxiety rise. And now there’s a small smile forming underneath the shadow his hands are providing. You don’t even know if you should be worried or maybe just as red as him.

“Are you going to tell me or-“

“There was a bet.” You’re being immediately shut up with his sudden response, the one you should’ve expected all along. He stretches his arms up and behind himself, and you hate yourself for losing your focus for a moment. Those arms have always been a huge distraction for you. His lips tighten to form a fine line curved around the corners. He’s fucking proud of himself isn’t he.

“And?” You blurt out as nonchalantly as possible, in a way trying to cover your chocked up swallow. You don’t need to let him know what he does to you just yet. Though he probably knows the tiniest details of your non-verbal expressions by now.

“I lost.”

“What a surprise.”

“Yeah.”

Somehow you can’t miss the feeling that you’re playing some sort of game for everyone to see. Cause if one would squint their eyes enough, they could notice the light heaving of your chest, the blush on his collarbone from beneath his shirt, the impatient dancing of his fingers against his thigh as he forces himself not to pull you into him roughly and devour your exasperation then and there.

From afar it looks almost silly, like horny teenagers who have lost their tongues and would rather have them tangled instead. Funny how despite the unexpected haircut you hated so much, he still has you by the collar. As if nothing could ruin him for you.

“Well, what was the bet about then?” You exclaim reaching for one of his bags - the small one, since you know he keeps the heavier stuff in the suitcase. Your eyes are bright as you look at him, the glint quite unmistakable.

His cheeks seem to glow as his grin widens and it’s the kind of smile you only see when he’s nervous or excited. Also when he’s worn out and panting next to you, but that’s a different story and your own cheeks heat up at the thought.

“Well... They teased me a lot about how I get letters and calls from you all the time.”

“Men.” You roll your eyes and he chuckles. His hands find their way back to your waist before he continues with a long intake of air.

“Aaand, umm, there was a bet that: since it’s a mates-only kind of trip, we shouldn’t contact our partners so much. And the rule was that if someone gets a letter, or a telegram, you have to read it out loud-“

“Oh fuck.”

“- or, there would be consequences.” Your mind is sweeping through dozens of things you wrote to him last week and suddenly you remember that one time you were oh so incredibly horny and slid into the envelope not only some not so subtle hints, but also some rather interesting pics you spontaneously took with your polaroid. Putting the two together was relatively easy. You gaze up at him shaking your head but he only clamps his lips and nods.

“I believe you didn’t read them, right? That’s why your hair is shorter?” He inhaled sharply.

“At first I read all of them-“

“Until when?”

“- until you started adding those pictures.”

“Oh thank god.”

“Cause there’s no way I would let them know how filthy my babygirl is.” He exclaims quietly, holding your chin up between his fingers to make you look at him. His lips almost touch your earlobe when he whispers “You can only make me hard like this, and nobody else.”

And maybe, just maybe, you could eventually love that haircut. Because you already love that entire head of passion, talent and wit. And some other things too...

~~~~~

“This is ridiculous. I’m not going out in this.”

“Come on Roger. It’s just for the video, right?”

“I’m not a bloody clown!”

He turned around from the mirror, hands on hips and discontent written all over his features.

If not for his grimace of disapproval he looked almost cute with those puffy sleeves.

White, smoothly folded furbelow reflected the light, slightly illuminating his cheeks. The doublet was beautiful, perfected in every detail, from silvery threads, through patchwork-like design combined with finest materials, to white enlarged cuffs. He looked... amusing to say the least. Not in a bad way, contrary to Roger’s personal opinion.

With perfectly curled, fluffy hair and what seemed like tons of hairspray he looked quite strutting.

“Stop looking me up and down _____.”

“But it suits you!”

“Don’t be silly.”

“I love your hair.” You say as your fingers gently brush the strands of hair above his forehead. Your fingers gently point at his cheek. “And that little pattern you’ve got there. Matches the shirt.”

You’re so focused on fixing the material on his chest that you miss that glint in his eyes.

“Oh, you really like it, don’t you.”

“What?” You look up and he smirks.

“Come on love, you’ve been checking me out all day. Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

Crimson blush creeps up on your cheeks but before you’re able to respond you’re being interrupted by assistant director telling Roger to join the rest on the set.

Once the door is closed again he turns around with a huff.

“I guess you gotta go like this anyway.” You step closer and wrap your arms around his waist, not wanting to ruin the flounce around the neck. “It’ll be over before you even know it.”

“You’re probably right darling. And then I’m taking you, Mrs. Taylor, out for a fancy dinner.” He points out at you before leaning down to plant a quick kiss on your forehead.

“We’re celebrating something?”

You call out after him as he nears the door. He smiles.

“What? Can’t I, the most stupid looking drummer in the world, just randomly celebrate my amazing life with the love of my life?” You roll your eyes playfully but send him a flying kiss nonetheless. “And I’ll need a lot of drinks after this shitshow. I swear, this is going to be the most stupid music video ever made.”

“Okay okay, Mr. Rockstar. Just go! They need you.”

“Not more than I need you.” Roger teases, already standing at the doorstep. And that’s when you spot something that doesn’t feel right.

“Wait!” You call out and he pops his head back around the door.

“Yes love?”

“What about the shoes?”

“The shoes?”

“Your sneakers. Aren’t you supposed to wear something more... matching?”

„Oh fuck that! I’ve already sacrificed my sense of style today. They won’t take my sneakers too!”

taglist: @rogersdrumkit @rogersfalsettos  @cyborgfromthesupermarket @sabbrriiinnaa @wolverinesbeer r @simplyvictoria-93 @laubluered @ceruleanrainblues @shae-is-not-ok @i-am-sarah @imamazzellhoe @shishterfackisback @rockyroadthepastryarchy @tanya-is-dead @twistingrealityagain (and also @jennyggggrrr​ @juliarvra bc they were the ones to motivate me to finish these :’))

[jarhara]

With just a little smile

(Joss / Smiler OC origin story)

chapter I/III

„this is the third time this week!“, the teachers voice echoed through the almost empty classroom. The only student still left was a teenage girl with blond hair and a choppy haircut.

The teacher was in her early 60s and had her graying hair tied to a bun. She didn’t like having to confront students like that but she knew when she had to. And this one hadn’t left her with much of a choice after growing worse every day.

Trying to give of a more friendly and understanding vibe, she sat down next to the young student, looking her in the eyes „Josephine… “

„Joss!“, the girl interrupted, she couldn’t stand her full name, not even her father used it. That was when he did talk to her.

Doing her best not to show how startled she was by the girls interruption, the teacher went on „I know moving and going to a new school in the middle of the year can be hard, especially for someone your age, but do you really think you have to make a joke out of everything to be accepted here?“

„I don’t care about moving, the old school wasn’t any better, and what do YOU know about being my age? Must have been a few hundred years ago for you.“ It truly didn’t matter that much for Joss. She had changed schools more often then anyone she ever knew and she and her father hadn’t lived in one place for longer than a year since she could remember. This was mostly thanks to her father’s profession. As a scientist, Dr. Thomas Myles had to go where there were projects that required someone with knowledge in his specific field and and those projects usually only went on for little over 6 months.

The teacher was still starring at her in shock. Such a direct attack was not what she had expected. She had witnessed Joss making similar, disrespectful and mocking comments about various topics of the lecture but as of now, she hadn’t directly offended anyone.

„and I don’t care if anyone accepts me either, this whole place is just a big joke anyways.“ Joss went on with her rambling. She was just so over it with all those people pretending they knew what her problem was and acting all understanding.

„Josephine, I think it’s about time I get in touch with your father“, the teacher said, now looking very stern. The gentle approach had failed, intimidation was the logical next choice, although she feared it wouldn’t make a difference.

„go ahead then. You know, his job at that stupid ministry or whatever is more important to him than me. So good luck getting him here“, Joss commented and leaned back in her chair, placing her feet with her worn out converse on the table. They were bright yellow and the smile she had drawn over the faded logo was smiling a very cynical smile in the teachers directions.

The teacher went back to her front desk where she picked up her phone. She didn’t bother to leave the room, she wanted Josephine to listen. „Mr. Myles?... Excuse me, Doctor Myles…. I am calling on behalf of your daughter, Josephine…. She has made a habit of repeatedly interrupting the lectures and making a mockery of it….. Consider this a warning, if her behavior does not change, she’ll have to be suspended…. Of course we offer disciplinary measures but I fear they'll have little effect on such an unruly child, such as your daughter. This is a school after all, not a youth penitentiary….i’d recommend that you pick her up in person… fine, have a nice day“

Joss could have filled in what her father must have said without a second thought „what has she done now?“ „can’t you just put her in detention?“ „you really expect me to leave work just to come over and pick her up?“

Like she had predicted, the teacher seemed very disappointed at the effectiveness of the call, which made Joss smile. It was always the same but still fun for her to watch when they found out out how little her dad seemed to cared for her behavior.

„you can go home now“, the teacher gave in with a sigh. Without the support of the father, there was nothing she could do for now. Getting the girl suspended or even expelled would take some time and a long talk with the school-director and the father.

Still smiling triumphantly, Joss picked up her schoolbag that was covered in buttons and scribbles and left.

When her father got home later that day, she expected him to make a big scene about a teacher having to call him at work, but instead he just vanished into his room, avoiding his daughter for the remainder of the day.

on the next morning:

Hurriedly chugging down her orange juice, Joss grabbed her school bag and jacket, heading for the door. She was about to be late again, not that she really cared.

„Josie…“, she heard her father behind her. Something was off about him, he normally left for work before she even got up, so why was he still here? There was also a slight shaking in his voice that made Joss prepare for the worst.

„how about… I give you a ride today?“ he asked her, sounding unreasonably nervous.

„sure, dad. But don't'cha have to work?“, she cocked her head to the side and gave him a confused look. Since when did he even care?

„I’ll drop you off on the way there“, he said still not sounding fully convincing

„sure…why not?“, Joss gave in and followed him to the car, that was parked in front of the house.

They both remained silent throughout the drive, although Joss had expected her father to use this opportunity for a talk.

When the school came into view, they did not slow down but instead drove past it.

„Hey, whata you doin‘? School was back there“, Joss suddenly started, pointing over her shoulder, back towards the school.

„I’m taking you with me to work today … so you can maybe understand what’s at stake for us here“, he explained, still with a slight shake in his voice.

Joss had no idea how to react to that, this was so out of character for her dad. He never before cared to explain to her what exactly he was doing or why this specific job was so much more important than anything else. But whatever was up with him, she didn’t like it.

They soon left town and arrived in an industrial district. The building they where heading for was hidden behind fences and barbed wire.

They pulled up at the gate where Thomas Myles waved his bright yellow lanyard in front of a scanner to open it. There was no guard but a lot of surveillance cameras aimed at where the gate opened to let them inside the wired fence.

The building itself looked pretty bland if it wasn’t for the giant letters proclaiming this to be „the ministry of joy“

Joss still wasn’t sure if she should be happy about her father actually making her ditch school, or if taking her with him to work was going to be an entirely new type of punishment. But if this job was so damn important to him, why would he risk her making a fool of him in front of his colleagues or even his boss?

But Joss soon realized that there was no-one to notice her as her father pushed her on through the empty corridors.

After a seemingly endless walk, they entered a room that had nothing but a chair and a mirror in it. The chair had suspicious restraints mounted to it like Joss had seen it only in movies where they were never used for good things.

„Dad, what’s goin‘ on here?“, she asked with fear now evident in her voice.

„you leave me with no other choice“, he answered, sounding sad and disappointed, as he forced her into the chair

„please, don’t get me wrong, Josie, I still love you…“, he tried to explain calming, but she could see tears forming in the corners of his eyes „I just can’t deal with all of this right now, this job, what I get to do here, is just too important for you to screw it all up.“, he went on, his voice shaking even more now “Why did you have to be such an unhappy child… I only hope this will help you get better„

With what was supposed to be a reassuring smile he finished tying his daughter up and left the room.

„please stop, Dad! This isn’t funny!“ The leather straps where tight around her wrists and ankles and she had to watch helplessly.

Lights turned on behind the mirror, revealing her father in the next room. The room was filled with all kinds of consoles and computers.

„initializing marmalisation, test sequence number seven. Commencing correction.“, an automated voice said over the PA system.

Still struggling to free herself, Joss had to watch as a ceiling panel moved back to reveal some kind of mechanical devices with five arms moving in her direction.

One of the arms placed spinning discs right in front of her eyes, while the bright lights mounted to another one started to flash viciously. The arm equipped with yellow canisters released a suspicious gas, while the brushes on a different arm started to tickle her, so she couldn’t hold her breath.

[leonardo-capulet]

Not While I’m Around || Cris/Leo

Who: Cris and Leo

What: Cris offers to make some changes to Leo’s appearance for the better.

Where: Their apartment.

When: June 12th.

@cristian-capulet

Cristian sighed, running a hand through Leonardo’s hair as they laid cuddle up in bed after a particularly lengthy scene. His body ached, though he felt fairly awake after resting in the other’s embrace. They had been taking things slow— and Cristian was grateful for that, but he knew it would be a while before things began to feel like where they’d left off years prior. Simultaneously though, they were in unfamiliar territory with an eventual claim on the horizon, and he couldn’t help but want to reach the point where he felt ready for that step even faster. The thought came to a halt as Cristian’s fingers tugged when they hit a knot in the other’s hair. A note of frustration crossed his features as his gaze flickered to his hand and the other’s hair. “We really need to do something about this,” he muttered to himself, finding himself missing the well-maintained appearance Leo always had in Verona.

As Leo laid next to Cris, feeling his hand running through his hair, a sigh escaped his lips as he felt his body relaxing. A small smile turned up the corners of his lips and he opened his eyes to look back at Cristian for a moment before he let his eyelids fall shut again. He truly loved the feel of the submissive's fingers in his hair, he also loved to do the same, but somehow he was finding himself being spoiled this time, while his own fingers trailed over the other male's skin. As Cristian's fingers caught in his hair he grimaced, eyes opening to look back at the other, and he rolled his eyes playfully. "Do we? And what do you suggest? I have a brush somewhere over there." He waved his hand in the general direction of the bathroom but didn't make any effort to move.

“Well...” Cristian hesitated before responding, fingers playing with Leo’s hair again as his gaze flickered up to it again before his palm moved down to cup Leo’s cheek briefly. “More than that... Do you trust me?”

Leo turned his face into Cristian’s hand to brush his lips against the other’s palm before his eyes took in the submissive’s face. “Of course I do. More than anyone.” He answered as his hand lifted to run along Cristian’s arm. “Why do you ask?”

“Up,” Cristian instructed, moving to sit up himself. He slid out of the bed and took a moment to stretch his arms and upper body groaning softly before he turned to face Leo again. “I’m going to give you a haircut,” he explained with a  matter of fact tone.

With a light laugh, Leo watched Cristian get up, getting ready to move before pausing simply to watch him stretch, a slow smile tugging at his lips. The reason Leo had been instructed to get up caught him by surprise. “You’re going to cut my hair?” Leo asked with amusement as he got up and faced Cristian with his hands on his hips, arching a brow at the submissive. “I’m going to ask one question, and don’t take this as a lack of trust because it isn’t... but I’m genuinely curious. Have you ever cut hair before?” He didn’t care either way, it would grow back and he had faith that Cristian wouldn’t make him look ridiculous. After all, Leo had to still look professional for work, and the submissive understood that. “Where do you want me?” He asked.

“Nope,” Cristian responded with a laugh and easy shrug. “Well— that’s a lie. I cut my first Domme’s bangs for her a few times in Uni, but I’ve never cut a guy’s hair before. You have an electric razor though, yeah? I’m not too worried— I’ll go slow and make sure it’s even,“ he explained, moving to stand and leaning down to give Leo a quick peck on the lips. Anything to cut the damn hair— which perhaps he’d have liked under other conditions, but it simply seemed unkept and disorganized— not the Leo he knew. It certainly didn’t hurt either, that all he could think of was the others he’d been with since apart, and how many strangers had run their hands through the damned hair during sex. Cristian would never deny it— he was a jealous man, and exceptionally possessive of what he considered his. A haircut would do them both good— anything at all to close the chapter on their lives since separation and make a clean start together. A return to the handsome, meticulously groomed look he’d always remembered Leo sporting in Verona.  “Just let me grab a chair from the kitchen, Wait for me in the bathroom.”

At the admittance that Cristian hadn’t really cut hair, a look of amusement crossed Leo’s face. “I’m not worried, you’ll do fine, I’m sure.” It had been a long time since Leo’s hair had been short, clean cut. The long hair he’d had all this time was so different from the look he was so used to because he had tried to distance himself from who he used to be. Yet, there was something important, pivotal, to Cristian being the one to cut his hair. With a nod to his request, he went into the bathroom and stood there for a moment looking back at his reflection, the long hair, the different look and how much he’d avoided paying attention to it all this time. Leo turned and leaned back against the sink with his arms crossed over his chest, and waited for Cristian to enter with the chair.

Cristian returned a moment later from the kitchen with a chair in his hands. He placed it facing away from the mirror, not sure he wanted Leo watching as he worked. He was a perfectionist, but still a novice with hair cutting. “Sit, Sit,” he instructed casually as he then moved to dig out the dominant’s brush along with his razor, adjusting the settings so he could trim the sides short, but still leave quite a bit on top. He also pulled a small pair of scissors from his own toiletry bag that he usually used for facial hair, figuring he could use them for any areas he perhaps needed to tweak, or if they decided to trim Leo’s beard as well versus shave it. It wouldn’t be perfect, but he would touch it up after, or send Leo to a barber if he totally screwed up. The fact Leo was letting him do this had him delighted though, eager to help Leo return to his old self and acknowledge who he was— for better or worse. He was the man Cristian loved, after all, and he was determined to help Leo pull himself out of the emotional hole he’d fallen into over the last two years. A haircut simply seemed like a nice way to start.

Leo slid into the chair smoothly, and then watched as Cristian gathered all the things he needed. “For someone who hasn’t really cut hair, you sure are preparing yourself like a professional.” He observed with a smile. He relaxed back against the chair with a comfortable sigh. “Ready whenever you are.”

“Well it’s not rocket science,” Cristian countered with a grin, running a hand through Leo’s hair before taking a brush to it to at least straighten it up before he began. “Worst case we swing by a barber tomorrow to touch up any mistakes I make,” he added with a shrug, reaching for the razor. “Now don’t move.”

“Oooh, excuse me. I’m just in awe of the fact that you’re looking like a natural, that’s all.” Leo let his eyes close as he felt the brush move through his hair. His eyes opened again at the mention of going to a barber, making a point to look at Cristian. “Let’s just see how it goes. I have faith in you.” He settled back in the chair again with a soft chuckle. “Does talking count as moving? Should I be completely still and silent?” He teased, but he remained carefully still so that the submissive could work.

“Still, yes. Silent no— but try not to make me laugh,” he suggested with a grin. Powering on the razor, Cristian hesitated little as he got to work. He had a vision in mind, and carefully set about getting Leo’s hair as close as he could to how it had been back in Verona— albeit perhaps a smidge shorter, due to his lack of experience as well as limited tools.

“I will try, but I make no promises about not making you laugh as I know how terribly witty I am.” Leo joked with a smile on his face. He certainly didn’t think himself a funny man, humor wasn’t something that came easily to him, even if he did appreciate the quality in others. It was a nice feeling, though, to have Cristian so focused on cutting his hair. This was the first time that he’d ever had a submissive pay so much attention to him, and certainly the first time he’d allowed one to do something that required so much trust. It was easy for him to relax so he was still, and let Cristian do what he needed, even if there was no telling what the outcome of his hair would be.

Cristian rolled his eyes at the wit comment, sarcastically responding, “Terribly, Sir. How could I forget,” with a smile. He was silent for several minutes as he focused on the task, mindful and deliberate with each action he took. When he finally finished with the razor, he reached for the brush and scissors, doing as he’d expected and touching up a few areas. It wasn’t perfect, but he proudly felt it was also quite good considering his lack of experience— and simply seeing Leo with short hair again had him beaming. “We can go to the barber tomorrow if you want, but I think I’m done.” He leaned in to kiss Leo, adding, “Now your beard just needs a little trim, but you can handle that yourself if you’d prefer. Go— take a look.”

“How could you, indeed?” Leo asked, amusement coloring his tone. He enjoyed the sarcasm, the joking conversation, and he thought over that brief exchange as Cristian finished up with his hair. Seeing the way that the submissive smiled after he’d finished cutting Leo’s hair made the Dominant incredibly happy. He leaned into the kiss but did take a quick look. It wasn’t bad at all, and the short hair made him look less like a stranger to himself, and much more like the man he usually considered himself to be. Leo sat back down on the chair and reached out for Cristian. “I want you to do it. Trim it how you like it. And we don’t need to go to the barber tomorrow. You did a good job, Cris. Now... let’s see how you do with my beard.”

“How about a full shave?” He’d never shaved another, though he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Leo absolutely clean shaven without even a hint of scruff, let alone a beard. He had a feeling Leo would cave to his request too, noting the Dominant seemed to be doing a lot of that lately.  “I just sharpened my straight razor... if you trust me, of course,” he added, smiling challengingly.

Leo had to admit it had been a while since he'd had a full shave. He hadn't even tried to keep himself clean shaven since leaving Verona. The small challenge had Leo looking up at Cristian with an arched brow. "If I trust you? Hmm... I don't know... completely at your mercy and all?" He asked teasingly. "Sounds a little dangerous. But I did tell you to do it, after all. So... let's see how skilled you are with that straight razor."

Cristian’s eyes narrowed with amusement, feeling somewhat more confident about a shave versus the haircut. He also couldn’t help is own excitement at the prospect of a clean shaven Leo. “Hold still then,” he murmured, setting about collecting a warm, hot hand towel, shaving cream, and everything else he would need before he finally got started.

A low chuckle escaped him and he settled back against the seat again. "Tell me if and when you need me to move my head at all." Leo replied as he watched the other prepare his items. Watching Cristian, for a moment, he couldn't help but smile. "Before you start, I demand at least one more kiss, and then I promise to be still for you."

Cristian couldn’t help his smile, leaning down to give Leo a loving, eager kiss as requested. He took his time with it, not overly eager to break contact despite the task that awaited. “You’re horribly demanding, you know that?”

There was a slightly triumphant smile on Leo’s face as Cris leaned in for a kiss. Pleased that he got what he wanted, even more so when the kiss wasn’t quick, leaning into the other male to draw out the contact for as long as he could. His smile returned the moment the kiss ended, only to turn into a laugh at the question. Leo arched a brow in amusement at the submissive. “I do know that, and so do you. But can you blame me? I have you in my life, and what’s more, I rather love kissing you.” He replied as he reached out to touch Cris before dropping his hand back into his lap. “Alright. As promised, I’ll be very still since I got the kiss I requested.”

“Good,” Cristian answered back with a pleased, wide grin as they pulled apart. He wasted little time then, going quiet as he concentrated and worked to do away with the facial hair. Had it come about while they dated, Cristian thought he might grow to love it. He certainly enjoyed a small amount that was neatly trimmed and maintained on Leo— but at the moment a clean slate, or rather a clean face, was what he desired. The Leo he remembered from Verona, who put effort into his appearance and was meticulous about it if anything. He wanted Leo to reclaim that— for the both of them. “Now... I just want to remind you that I’m not opposed to facial hair,” he chimed as he worked, running the blade along the soaped up cheek of the Dominant. “Otherwise I would be a hypocrite. I just thought a nice clean shave... might be relaxing and a good refresh. For us both. If you want to grow it out again after, so be it.”

Leo comfortably sat still, eyes closed as he let Cristian shave him. He'd never considered enjoying an act like this, but he found it relaxing to have his lover focus on him so intently. As he finished speaking, Leo opened his eyes and looked up at Cristian, "I'm not likely to ever let it grow out quite this much." He replied. In truth, he'd only let his facial hair grow this thick in his grief, and depression. His hair and beard had been the last reminders of a time in his life he'd much rather forget. A clean shave and a haircut felt like a fresh start to him, and he was eager to get back to the man he knew. His eyes closed again as he let the submissive continue to work. "This is nice, by the way." He commented, softly.

"Hmm?" Cristian's voice was soft, smiling to himself as Leo complimented the feeling. "Perhaps we can do this again some time then," he offered, still attentively working at the Dominant's neck and jawline. "I enjoy this too... Getting to do something for you, considering all you've done for me, Sir."

Leo opened one eye to look up at the submissive in slight amusement, “You’d really do this again?” He asked curiously. He paused a moment and then opened both eyes, “I think you’ve done more for me than I have you. Although it’s not intentional in any way. Fortunately, I have plenty of time to do more in future.”

"Well then perhaps we can find more.... activities such as this in the future then," Cristian responded back with an almost shy tone as he focused. "I enjoy the attention and focus this requires... And the peacefulness of it, honestly." And the trust.

It was incredibly peaceful, despite the amount of trust that went into this act. Leo wondered if Cristian could see just how trustworthy he found the submissive. It was something he hadn’t felt to this extent since his parents, and even then, this was in a completely different way.  A smile crossed his features as he shut down his mind and focused on the man before him, the other’s tone hadn’t been missed but he also didn’t want to point it out. “I’m sure we can find more things like this.” And Leo would enjoy the calm, and peace that came along with it.

[julesthequirky]

Kisses Have Consequences: Four Weeks Later

Summary: You’re Misha’s best friend. Working with him on SPN had never been a problem, until one scene, forcing you both to admit certain truths about each other and find that kisses have consequences.

Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex, adultery, explicit language, accidental pregnancy, extreme emotions, angst.

Feedback is GOLD. If you like it, reblog it. Work is unbeta’d so all mistakes are mine. Don’t be afraid to leave a comment.

A/N: This chapter is portrayed by Misha’s point of view.

It must have been the smell of coffee. He didn’t know why but it was making her gag. He could clearly see her try to mask the scent as she walked faster out of proximity to the offensive smell. It had made her retreat to the other side of the canteen with a cup of tea- presumably. She was doing what he was, grabbing a quick drink before heading back onto set. He stayed in his seat, knowing he would be unwelcome if he went over to her.

They had something and she knew it too, she had just pulled the shutters down before anything could happen, due to him already having a family. She didn’t want to be the one to blame, protecting herself and him, he guessed.

Once she had finished her small cup, he downed the rest of his, getting up only after she did. Se stopped by to greet a few people then made her way out of the canteen, quickly. He followed as she walked the same way to set.

He wanted to talk to her. Why shouldn’t he be able to? Because it would make her uncomfortable as she figured out her feelings. It had gone on long enough. He missed her. He missed talking to her, without her he felt a part of him was empty. He wanted to approach her, and claim back their friendship. It might not become what it used to be and he could live with that.

She walked on set, him not far behind. Jared, Jensen and their guest Greg was there already conversing. They waved him over, and Y/N. Y/N treated Greg like he was a lifelong friend. It was one of the things she had learnt during her time on the show. She didn’t know how long any person would be on the show, so she welcomed all with open arms as he had done to her it wasn’t long before Robert called them all back to their places.

*

Misha watched her from across the room, rolling his eyes like Castiel would at Greg’s purposely bad throw intended for Y/N’s character to catch. She too rolled her eyes, made an annoyed sound and bent down, as Jensen delivered his line.

“Oh, nice one.”

Misha stood there stoically, giving the man his typical Castiel judging look, keeping her in his peripheral vision. She stood up and blinked a couple times, looking like she had birds tweeting around her. He really wanted to ask if she was all right but he couldn’t. Now wasn’t the right time. Later.

“Next time, try aiming for me…”

Y/N swayed, her line faltering, wavering, her eyes wide, an arm semi-consciously out like she was trying to feel her way. He watched her fall, like a sack of potatoes, crashing into a prop table.

Everything stilled for a second, his heart in his throat. He didn’t think about what he did. After four weeks of not being able to go near her, unless in character, he made it over to her in less than three strides, too fast surprising other around him. He dropped down next to her and called her name.

He tried three times. She did not respond. Jensen, Jared and the crew were now at her side. He needed to give her air. He moved his arm.

“Get back, she needs air.”

Jared and Jensen were great at making sure everyone was back enough for her. He could hear them asking questions, wanting answers he didn’t yet know.

He checked her pulse. She was alive, could feel her blood pumping prominently through her veins. He did a silent ‘thank you’ to the ceiling as he rolled her over and began placing her in the recovery position whilst grabbing a phone and dialling 911.

He didn’t want to touch her head, being fearful she had hurt herself. Her fall hadn’t protected her head.

He had just finished contacting 911 for an ambulance when Y/N groggily came round. She went to move but he placed a hand on her body.

“Y/N, it’s best you don’t move. You collapsed on us. Gave us a fright. You may have hit your head, so I’ve called an ambulance.”

She groaned.

“My head…”

“You fell quite hard. An ambulance is on its way.”

She seemed to understand that, whispering a simple okay to him. That was the second time he had mentioned it and she hadn’t even batted an eyelid. She hated hospitals and he was surprised she wasn’t arguing with him.

“You weren’t out long, just a minute or two. That’s all.”

He could see she wanted to nod, but she looked pained, probably with a killer headache. She licked her lips, assuming they had become quite dry and most likely in need of some water.

*

He wasn’t really her next of kin, but with little family left and too far to travel, he had advised her to place him as emergency contact. It meant he would be contacted first for everything and first to know what was going on.

She was out like a light and he was beside her bed. They wanted to keep her in for observations, he didn’t argue, but he knew Y/N would.

He had promised to keep the team updated with news when he came back, and would most likely be the one to pick her up tomorrow morning.

The door opened and a man with a short, cropped haircut and white doctor’s coat walked in holding a clipboard. he had a name badge on which read Dr. Reed. He gave him his attention for the time being.

“I have to ask, as her first point of contact, are you her partner?”

Misha considered this. Her partner. He wanted to be.

“Of sorts.” He replied.

The doctor nodded and seemed to relax a little.

“Okay. I have her blood test results here,” Misha was rapt. “Everything is fine. In fact, she’s remarkable in the early stage of pregnancy,which would most likely explain her fainting spell. At the moment, she’s on a standard IV, gaining some fluids inside her, preventing dehydration. I suggest she makes an appointment with our maternal unit for future appointments.”

Misha was struck for gold. Pregnant. Y/N was pregnant. With his baby. It had to be his baby. Unless she slept with someone straight after him, but he didn’t think she did. She had been shook up enough about them.

His heart felt like it had swelled three times the size. He was going to be a father again. Finally the ‘separation’ between them would be void, thanks to their addition.

That explained the look she had this morning, avoiding the coffee, going for tea instead.

It would be up to him to tell her. Inside his little bubble burst. As soon as he would tell her she would most likely be horrified that something came to be from their night of passion. Now he felt sick. He hoped she wouldn’t terminate their little bundle. He was excited for this, wanted this. She would hate him. Would blame him most likely and he was prepared for her to throw her punches.

Did he really want to tell the team of this wondrous news when he got back? He knew he should, but he didn’t want to. Instead he wanted to keep it to himself. He didn’t even want to tell the mother of the child, which he knew would blow up in his face. He knew he was being selfish with his decision. But he wanted to protect this little secret.

He vowed to keep her safe, even if he had to do it from afar.

*

He pulled up to the entrance and Y/N was there waiting, ready to go home, or at least back to her trailer. She looked tired. Like she hadn’t gotten enough rest during her one night stay. But that was okay, considering what was happening to her body. She was growing their child.

She walked over and opened the door, sitting beside him. She looked at him, then back to the windshield.

“Thanks. I mean, you didn’t have to-”

He stopped her.

“I wanted to.”

She sighed and started to pull at the seatbelt next to her, clipping herself in, before he set off.

She sniffed, scrunching her nose.

“God, is that coffee?” she sniffed again and then gagged, covering her mouth and nose with a sleeve.

“Ugh, it is. Drive faster.”

He shook his head, smiling a little. She had an aversion to coffee.

“What is it with you and coffee?”

She looked at him.

“I don’t know, but I swear, if you don’t get out of here I’m going to throw up.”

“Right. On it.” He drove out of the hospital, away from the offending smell and into the direction of home- as closest as home could be.

Misha Fic Tags:

@goobykeding, @greenappleeyes, @sugarcookiedean

EVERYTHING!!

@one-to-beam-up @missjenniferb @dean-winchesters-bacon @mypassionsarenysins @ezilyamuzed @curly-haired-disaster

@supernatural-teamfreewillpage

[the-council-of-new-york-vampires]

Can you please submit Adam's past!!! As well as some headcanons on him ;(

Out of Character:

Adam’s past is in the works… You see, I started some day in December and didn’t do so much work on it since. 😅 Technically, it’s finished, but it’s especially hard to edit, because it’s the longest one I’ve yet written, and I really do want it to be perfect. But don’t worry, I’ll def publish it. ☺️

Lemme start with my headcanons:

My biggest one: Adam is a psychopath. So, sometime ago, I asked people on their opinion on that topic and legit no one replied… Thanks for that, guys. 🙃😂 Anyway, I have been drowning myself in research for several weeks now, and I know that there’s a lot of misinformation about psychopathy online. Like, psychopaths have very little to do with Hollywood movies, and it’s not a mental illness but a neurological disorder. I differentiate between sociopaths and psychopaths as well, as in: Psychopaths are born, sociopaths are made, and they behave and think differently. I have been analyzing Adam’s behavior and scenes carefully and, as far as I’m concerned, he meets all the signs for psychopathy. I know it’s kind of a critical topic to discuss, but I’d love to analyze Adam’s behavior and thoughts and compare it to psychopathy, in a separate post. (I am not looking to insult or offend anyone with this, I just love giving interesting characters more depth and exploring their minds and ways of thinking, especially when it comes to villains.)

Fitting the above one, Adam was a con artist at some point. I always thought of this job he would be so good at, but never knew the name until I came across it during my psychopathy research. Con artist! That job is made for him. I headcanon, some day after being a politician as a human, he came to America and started working as, I don’t know the name, but those people who came to people’s houses and sold them bullshit. He didn’t do that for a long time, though, because I don’t think it makes good money and it has a low social standing. However, that’s how he slipped into the con artist job or how he calls it “working in the finance sector”. He did that for, I don’t know, ten years or more, before he decided he had made enough money with it. He wanted to get into poilitics again to satisfy his desire for power, and quit being a con artist, because it would have been too risky to do both at the same time. (I doubt he was ever caught, but conning people is obviously illegal.)

It was slightly hinted at by Adrian that, sometimes, Adam kills women after sleeping with them. I think when he was around Priya’s age, he did that very often. Just sought them out and killed them afterwards, because he liked the feeling of power and control it gave him. In the present, it is more likely that he has contacts for things like that, contacts he does not kill, because it would be a huge scandal, obviously. Still, he sees all people as objects, humans more so than vampires, and attractive young women primary as sex objects to use and discard, and he thinks it’s pathetic that they adore him and seek him out the way they do, that they ‘let’ him kill them. But of course, he pretends to be this super elegant gentleman. I do think he was taught to treat women with special respect, but, if you consider his actual personality, it’s highly unlikely that he keeps that mask on in the bedroom. He displays it in public, because most women love gentlemen, but, unless his lover needs to be manipulated by him or he wants something from her, he is totally different, degrading even, in the bedroom.

I think Adam is very vain to the point that he needs longer in the bathroom than some ladies. I think he has a personal barber, stylist, you name it, and they come over every morning. He loves his appearance and - sorry - I can definitely see him making out with a mirror. At least, whenever he walks by, he does admire the guy he sees. But how could you not? How could women not? At least, that’s what Adam thinks. And lemme judge: he’s damn right. Adam’s About 183 cm tall (I just know), he’s muscular, he has a nice haircut, a fancy beard, great taste in fashion… And those, lemme guess, thick 7 inches. 😌😏 Hehe.

Pretty sure that Adam has a wild, irresponsible streak in him that he must live out somehow. I mean, he dated Priya and as if she would ever date anyone boring. Adam loves partying, irresponsible sexual acts, the adrenaline when seeking thrills. Despite what people think, I can definitely see him as a reckless driver, especially when alone. This guy has no fears. He is similar to Kamilah in some ways, but that’s one where they differ: I think he can let go better than she can, he just needs the right circumstances, right people, right situations. He is a lot more likely to play Roulette and bet on black just for the hell of it. With Priya, he did many irresponsible things, thinking “I don’t care. I love it.” Icona Pop knows. 😉

As a mortal, Adam had a family and children. Considering the historical context, this is more than likely. People often say they can’t imagine him as a father, and in a way I agree: I think he was a very neglectful and absent father who had a lot more kids than he wanted (considering the fact that he wanted none 😂). Furthermore, he was a very disloyal husband, married more than once, got women pregnant who he wasn’t married to, banished them or forced them into an abortion (people knew there were ways to miscarry)… I’m guessing the probability for him to cheat in a relationship to be as high as 80%. I see no reason for him not to cheat, because he has no moral compass and he believes he can have anyone, deserving of as many lovers as he wants. However, if she would cheat, he would either be incredibly angry or totally careless. Anyway, if there is one person seeing a crying toddler and thinking “Damn, I’m glad my kids are dead”, it’s Adam.

Back to his roots: Adam grew up Catholic. This is not me saying religion makes people bad (I’m religious myself), but me saying he grew up at a time and in a country that was certainly Catholic. However, I highly doubt he ever believed in any religion, simply was raised into a strictly religious environment. In that way, he broke rules very early such as no lying or no touching yourself, and this is how he learned to be sneaky about it. This theory explains his name as well, as Adam was the first human created by God, and he was likely named after him, not as the first human in the world, but the first baby born to his parents, a noble couple. I’m very sure he grew up in a big family. However, he is only focused only on himself since… all the time.

Obviously, regarding sex, Adam has done almost everything there is to do. I think he is much more animalistic and pleasure-focused than people think, and he loves to break taboos the same way he breaks rules as he considers himself above them. Imagine anything nasty and I bet he has done it. Either with someone kinky like Priya or he just persuaded a ‘normal’ person into letting him try whatever ‘sick’ fantasy he had. Also, he loves group sex with, like, four women who cater to his needs. I tried to widen this headcanon a bit by bringing guys into it as well. While I think Adam is definitely heterosexual, I wouldn’t be surprised if anything happened between him and a man. I headcanon something like: He was at an orgy, drunk or whatever, centuries ago, doing his thing, and a guy just approached and gave him oral. Lol. And he let him do it, because why the hell not? Meanwhile, I find kissing a bit too intimate, but I can imagine he has done it, too, out of manipulation or because a guy just kissed him. With Priya, I headcanon he seduced young women, killed them… and they had fun with them, like… blood play and stuff…

I think Adam’s basic directive is “I don’t care”, regarding the other members of The Council as well. Of course, there are things he cares about deeply, like killing the Clanless or getting votes, but all of that serves no one but himself, the only person on Earth he actually cares about. You could give him any person’s name and ask if they shall live or die and he wouldn’t care at all what happens to them (unless that person’s existence is useful or bothering for him). Yeah, he has no conscience and he gives zero shits. His emotions are super limited. Like, when Gaius presented them his morbid plan, Adam was careless to the point that he had to observe the others’ reactions to be able to form and voice an opinion. He is calm by default and rarely gets angry (the anger he showed in several scenes was fake in order to appear believable).

Regarding lovers, Adam has a type. He likes young women (22-28), naive and ‘stupid’, women he can easily control, and he sees himself deserving of having all the pretty ones, like trophies or possessions. When someone doesn’t have the right age or look, he considers them not good enough for him and would find it pathetic if they asked him out. He doesn’t like independent women, he likes women he can make dependent on him. He always needs to be the superior one, financially as well as intellectually. All this explains why he never had and never ever will have a thing for Kamilah. She is everything he can’t control, can’t subject, and that’s why he respects her and can openly express a platonic liking for her. But deep inside, women like that threaten him and he wants to destroy them, because they are too smart to fall for him. And women (people) he can’t benefit from, who refuse to obey him, who he can’t manipulate, have no use to him. Regarding one night stands, which he had a lot more than gilfriends, he only targets very attractive women. He likes dark types, like himself, rather than blondes, and women who are particularly feminine. Long hair, long nails, dresses, high heels… I think that attracts him. And he loves asses. And Latinas. Sorry.

I think Adam has more than two faces. To the public, he is that super friendly, charming guy who wants the best for anyone. To The Council, he is that friendly guy who has drastic measures, but still puts a lot of importance on their team-spirit. Part of the mask is off, but he still presents himself as friendly and interested in the well-being of the public. Like, he greets the members happily and calls them his “friends”, but everyone does know they shouldn’t turn on him. (The Baron even said so.) When dating Priya, he showed a different face again. More of that easy-going guy, a great sport, overly protective of his ‘loved’ ones. He always alternates between “Hello, I am super friendly and chill, you can talk about anything with me” and “I am super dangerous and you better not fuck with me”. Then, in reality, he is a cold-hearted snake who cares about no one but himself. Now imagine him around his Clan. I think his mask slips off even further than it does when he’s with The Council, in a way that they might even fear him, because they know what he’s capable of. Or they admire him because he leaves the mask on, like the nerd in the train to the Ball does, who obviously has a crush on him? It is so different to assess Adam, because he is a great actor and he can legit be anyone. He can be the kind philantrophist you support, the sexy celebrity you admire, the relaxed guy who is your best friend, the intelligent Clan leader, the most caring boyfriend you have had, the most abusive boyfriend you have had… or the man who is actually planning to murder you.