he delights over me

anonymous asked:

E/R bonding over art?

Good morning have some modern (art) AU


Enjolras’ brows drew together in an expression of faint puzzlement, and his mouth turned down into an adorable semi-pout. “Let me see if I understand this one without you explaining it. The canvas represents potential – the projections of man’s hopes and fears onto the ever bright horizon of the future, the pain of uncertainty mingled with relief that there is still a chance to make of life what you will. It is past, present and future, the blank canvas of the soul with which we are born, our belief that we control who paints upon us. The sharp edges show the boundaries between self and not-self, and the longer you stare the more the shared colors of the canvas and wall seem to blur together. The clearest distinction is provided by its shadow, which lurks behind the canvas like the proverbial goat of darkness, waiting to do eternal battle for the fate of the future with the shining, fluorescent goats of light.“

Grantaire stared for a moment, then he laughed, hoarse and full of genuine delight. “You’re fucking with me!” He bent over double, laughing and slapping his knee. “You’re absolutely fucking with me! By god, you’re a natural. I should interview you for my blog.”

Enjolras permitted himself a tiny smile.

cleaning out my saved docs and found 2.3k of lirry w an open ending set right after the break started. figured i’d put it up, along w a couple other things i found. anyway, here it is:

Liam opens the door to a whirlwind.

Harry hugs him so tightly Liam feels like he can’t breathe, and it’s a beautiful, heaving relief. “Hey,” he chokes out, half laughing. He can’t explain why it feels like a house has been lifted from his chest.

“Mm,” says Harry, “hi,” and something else that gets muffled in Liam’s shoulder.

It’s silly to think this way, but it’s almost like they’re… together, or they were, or something, and this is their reunion. Like any second Harry will pull back and kiss Liam full on the lips and Liam will wind a hand into Harry’s hair and they’ll barely be able to speak with how close they are.  Liam rips himself out of the fantasy as quickly as he can, ears burning at the tips.

Clearly his crush on Harry hasn’t dissipated any since the last time they saw each other.

Good to know.

Keep reading

TITLE: MIDNIGHT
RATING: EXPLICIT
REQUESTED BY: ABAYA
CHARACTERS: THEO JAMES, Y/N
EXCERPT: “Okay. You win.” He whispers and opens his door. I do the same and meet him at the hood of his car, his hand finding mine. He leads me down the sidewalk and my patience thins the longer it takes to get to my house. I occasionally lean up and try to kiss his neck or try to sneak my hand inside his shirt but Theo refuses to let things escalate.

It’s almost midnight. 15 minutes it says on the right corner of my screen where I’ve been watching the minutes go by for the past two hours. My parents are watching television downstairs and I hope the sound is able to drown out Theo’s arrival because the last thing I want is to get caught.

I walk over to my window and open it, a rush of warm air brushing my hair from my face. Summer nights are meant to be filled with fun, spontaneous moments — kind of like last night’s, except things didn’t end so well for me. Theo and I got into an argument and plenty was left unsaid — neither of us selfless enough to apologize. He usually comes over on Friday nights and picks me up so we can drive down to the park where we usually lie down and talk about numerous things. 

This feels sightly bizarre now and any normal person would cancel it, but more than anything, I want to see him. I hate fighting with him and feeling this emptiness inside me. So tonight I’m hoping can we settle this argument once and for all and move past it. 

I stare at the huge oak tree in front of my house, the leaves swaying in accord with the wind and bring my phone up once more. 8 minutes it says. Only 8 more minutes before I see him. Next year will be our senior year and the possibilities after that seem endless. Theo and I decided to spend the first four years after high school apart — each at our college of choice — and then meet again and possibly seal the deal. That’s the plan. 

I see a red car in my periphery and before I can confirm it’s him, my heart does a somersault. A burst of excitement rushes through me and I fastened my shoes before dashing out of my room. Downstairs, I walk into the living room and find my parents cuddled against each other on the couch. I lean down and kiss them both goodnight. “I’m calling it a night. Love you.” They return the kisses and wish me goodnight. Feeling successful, I pretend to walk toward the staircase in the hallway but veer off into the kitchen at the last second. 

I open the backdoor slowly and step out into the warm night air. I round the house, careful not to get caught and walk the few steps toward his car. I open the passenger’s side door and slide inside, my heart beating a mile a minute. There’s an awkwardness in the air and as Theo leans over to hug me, I extend my hand for a handshake. He stops, his arms mid-air, and slowly recoils. A deep flush settles over my cheeks as embarrassment fills me up. I start to hug him back but it’s too late, he’s already back in his seat. 

“Hi.” He says, glancing at me quickly. His body seems rigid and I feel partially responsible. Why did I go for a handshake? 

“Hey.” We sit in silence for a while. My eyes wander to his hands gripping the steering wheel and I have to keep from reaching over and feeling his soft skin. He catches me staring but instead of the usual smirk and witty remark, he pretends not to notice. I look away and clear my throat. “How are you?” 

“Can we not do this, babe?” He asks and I have to stifle a sigh of relief. I’m glad he doesn’t wanna pretend everything’s fine when it’s not. He turns on the ignition and speeds down the road. It’s only when we cross a red light that I notice, for the first time, Theo’s eyes on me. He redirects his eyes back on the road, a small smile appearing on his face. 

                                                          *** 

He slows down to a stop a few blocks away from my house. It’s 1:34 am and it’s dark outside, cricket’s filling in the silence. I sit there with my hands in my lap and my teeth over my bottom lip. Theo’s staring out his window, one hand on his thigh and the other lying alongside the door. 

“I should go.” I say but make no move to leave. I want us to talk, to settle this but I don’t know how to approach the subject. 

“Wait.” He holds out his hand and touches my arm. Relieved for the second time that night, I sit back in my seat and wait expectantly. “I don’t want to fight anymore.” He confesses and I nod profusely. 

“Me neither, baby, I’m so sorry.” I say all at once, my eyes trained on him. A faint smile stretches across his lips and he leans forward, his forehead coming to rest against mine. “I love you so much. I never wanna fight like that. Let’s just forget about it all, mm?” 

Theo nods, resting a hand against the side of my face. He looks into my eyes for a long time, his eyes speaking for him. I feel my heart flutter and without a second thought, crash my lips against his. A rush of air leaves my nostrils as I melt into his touch. I missed this. I missed him. Even if the fight only lasted a few hours. 

“I love you, too. It’s all forgotten. I just hate that we wasted all this time being mad at each other.” He smiles against my lips. I pull back slightly and nod in agreement. We can’t take another stroll, that’d be too risky. My parents never usually check up on me after I’ve told them I’m going to bed but what’s to say that can’t change? 

“Come up with me. My parents are sleeping, they won’t hear us.” I say, excitement brewing in my stomach. He kisses me again but doesn’t say anything when he pulls back. He sits back in his seat and runs a finger along his bottom lip, deep in thought. I lean forward and kiss his cheek lightly, my arm rounding his stomach. Theo remains seated and doesn’t seem to give me much attention. I kiss the corner of his mouth tentatively and after a few seconds, he sighs and turns around, his lips finding mine. 

“Let’s continue this upstairs. We’ll be able to get back the time we wasted being mad at each other.” I offer, touching his nose with mine. He keeps his eyes closed, his jaw clenched. I move my hand up to run it through his hair and kiss him. He allows my tongue to wander into his mouth this time and returns the enthusiasm. The wind picks up outside, drowning out the crickets and their chant. I pull back and stare at his lips, all red and swollen. At this moment, there’s nothing I want more than him. 

“Okay. You win.” He whispers and opens his door. I do the same and meet him at the hood of his car, his hand finding mine. He leads me down the sidewalk and my patience thins the longer it takes to get to my house. I occasionally lean up and try to kiss his neck or try to sneak my hand inside his shirt but Theo refuses to let things escalate. 

At the door, I pull out my key from my pocket and unlock the door. The house is silent and dark, my parents having gone to bed already. I invite Theo inside and lead him upstairs, my index finger against my lip as we march down the hallway toward my room. “I’m cool doing it here.” He whispers in my ear, his hands brushing up my stomach to cup my breasts. A little squeak leaves my mouth and I slap his hands away in complete shock. My parents’ room is a few steps from mine and my little squeak might just be what gets us caught. I push Theo inside my room and close the door, turning around with a look of fury on my face. He’s standing on my bed, his arms outstretched behind him, a look of pure delight on his face. He beckons me over, a small gesture of his finger. 

I take a few steps toward him, stopping when our toes touch. He looks up at me, his hair curled up at the tips, his eyes candid and his lips wet and impossibly red. I can almost feel the anger leave my bones as I stare at him. Theo sits upright and brings his hands up to my hips, his long fingers digging into my skin. I shiver, his touch electrifying. 

“That wasn’t cool, babe. My parents could have heard me. Do you understand how screwed we’d be?” He raises a suggestive brow and I have to roll my eyes. I can already hear the witty response. 

“Don’t say anything. Don’t answer that.” I say. He chuckles, his hands higher now, and in their process, pushing my shirt higher up my stomach. He leans forward and kisses the smooth skin of my stomach. There’s a slight chill in the room and I realize I left the window open. But I don’t mind. My body is hot right now and the wind is welcoming. His lips move lower and lower until he’s kissing the waistband of my jeans. I stand there, breathless, as he tugs on my jeans, pulling them down my hips and thighs. I suck in air and exhale a shaky breath. I feel lightheaded and at a loss for balance but Theo steadies me. At his request, I step out of my jeans and remain in my panties. He runs a hand up the inside of my thigh and I can’t help the noise that comes out of my mouth. He glances up at me and smiles before pulling my panties down as well.

I feel embarrassed at the sight of him watching me. I start to cover myself up with my hands but Theo grabs them. He stands up and lifts my arms in the air, one hand coming down to grab at the hem of my shirt. He pulls it up and with the other hand swiftly brings it over my head. The remaining item of clothing on me is my bra and as he stares it down, I know it’s only a matter of time before he takes that off too. He wraps his arms around me and expertly unclasps my bra, pulling it off completely. 

I’m completely naked in front of my fully clothed boyfriend and I can’t help but feel self-conscious. He sits back down on the edge of my bed and simply stares at me. “Come here.” He whispers and I bend down, my lips finding his. He kisses me slowly and pulls me down on his lap. My hands wander down his chest and rest in his lap, my nimble fingers working his belt and zipper open. I pull his pants down and Theo lifts his hips to help me out. Eager to see all of him, I push him down the bed and push his shirt up, bunching it up his neck. I bend down and kiss his neck, sucking on the sensitive skin — I want to leave marks on him. His hands press against my back, the skin warm but still strangely leaving goosebumps in their wake. 

I sit up and experimentally pull him out, his dick already hard in my hand. I glance down at him and find that he’s staring at me, his eyes full of something intense. He pulls his shirt over his head and throws it to the side. I stare at his chest, all strong and muscly. I bite my bottom lip and align myself on top him, using my hand to steady him. I feel his hands on my hips and with that, I sink down. A jab of pain courses through me at first and I have to stop. Theo, worried, rubs my thigh reassuringly and waits for me. When it’s bearable again, I sink further down his dick, this time the pain less prominent, and slowly start to move my hips — around, around, around and then up, down, up, down, up, down. His eyes are closed and quiet moans are leaving his mouth but not quite reaching me so I clench down on him and watch as his eyes pop open and a wanton moan comes barreling out his throat. He frowns at me, caught off guard and I reach over to touch his cheek, my way of apologizing. “I like it when you moan,” I confess. He raises a brow then reiterates my statement, directing the words at me. He slides one hand down his stomach and inches it closer to my crotch. I watch intently as he presses his thumb against my clit, rubbing it gently. A spark of something strong pulses through me and I can’t control the screams that fill my throat. Theo laughs, all soft and husky. 

He’s still working his thumb against me and the pleasure that engulfs me is surreal. I never want this to stop. I continue riding him, feeling him fill me up and then retract. Again and again. He’s watching, the moans leaving my mouth obviously a turn on for him. He pulls me down with a hand on the small of my back and kisses me with his tongue. I moan into his mouth, my hips rocking back and forth. His hand is moving between us, pressing against me and creating the most delicious of sensations. “My parents are going to hear me, baby.” I say but he doesn’t seem to care. He pulls my bottom lip between his mouth and starts sucking on it. A pool of hot electricity starts in my lower abdomen and slowly spreads itself over my body. 

I don’t have to tell Theo I’m over the edge, he seems to understand on his own. He releases my lip and pushes me up with his hand, his hips lifting up to pound into me. I sit there motionless as he does all the work and relish in the pleasure that takes over my body. “Theo.” I moan loudly. Way too loudly. His eyes widen and he shushes me, but I’m far too gone to care. He fucks me through my orgasm and when reality comes crashing down on me, I slump into him. 

“Babe?” His deep voice fills my ears. I sit up and stare at him before realization hits me. 

“Oh. Sorry.” It doesn’t take much to get Theo going and after a few minutes of my hand around him, tugging, he grunts and releases. I kiss his cheek and neck, whispering sweet nothings into his ear as he releases all over my hand. He turns his head toward me and kisses me softly. 

“I’m sorry I flirted with all those girls. You’re it for me. I don’t want anyone else. Ever.” 

I sigh. “We said we weren’t going to be talk about this.” 

“I know but I feel I should apologize.” 

I smile fondly at him and peck him. “You already did.”

4

My hobbies include staring at Commander Peepers in scenes where multiple characters are making the same expression and contemplating the fact that whatever face he’s making is the eyeball equivalent of that expression. 

Pure Pain.

***The Nogitsune has an obsession with you***

“I’ll kill you all!” The Nogitsune yelled. The pack edged back slightly. Even though he was tied up, he worried them. “Release me and let me take (y/n) and I’ll let one of you live, at least partly anyway.”

“You can’t have her.” Scott said asserting his dominance. 

“Fine then,” The Nogitsune said through clenched teeth. “I guess I’ll just have to take her. 

I sit in the waiting room of the Beacon Hills Hospital. I’d been here ever since Isaac got injured. The pack suggested someone stay here and keep an eye on him, just in case the Nogitsune came back, and for some reason they all chose me. I guess I understand, I can’t do much of anything. I’d probably get in the way. I curl myself into a ball, covering myself with the blanket Melissa brought in for me. I’m so tired. 

It felt as if I’d only closed my eyes for a second before panic broke out. Melissa was trying to say something to me but I’m still groggy from staying awake for so long.I finally begin to register Melissa’s words.

”-here. He’s here, (y/n)“ That comment is like a punch to the stomach. 

"If you can, get out, Melissa.” I say.

“I can’t, my patients-” She starts but I cut her off. 

“Scott would never forgive me if something happened to you.” I say with pleading eyes. She gives me a non-committal nod. It’ll have to do. I race to Isaac’s room. I close the door and the screams quieten but don’t exactly silence. I stand next to Isaac.

“I really wish you could help, bud. I don’t think I can do this alone.” I mutter as I reach under his bed to grab the baseball bat Stiles hid. Just as I stand back up, the doors burst open.

“Honey, I’m home.” The Nogitsune smiles. Evil radiates off him, opposed to the good that radiates off Stiles. 

“I’m not your honey.” I say as I wind up the bat. Just as I’m about to hit him, he grabs the bat and rips it from my hands. I stumble back a little. 

“Oh,” He throws the bat across the room, barely missing Isaac. “But you are." 

I only realize that I have been backing away from the fox with a stolen face, when I hit the wall. I try to put on a strong front for Isaac, even though he’s going to be unconscious for my death.  I stand up tall, while trying to flatten myself against the wall at the same time. This is it. He edges towards me. I spit in his face. Not my finest moment. But hey, I’m going to die anyway. But all he does is laugh, a quiet but menacing laugh. He tilts his head in a similar way Stiles does.

"You’re mine, (y/n). That little pack of yours said I couldn’t have you. But I will, I do.” The words strike fear in my heart. The pack had him? Why didn’t they tell me.

“Great story, but if you’re done, I’ve got better things to do.” I sound more confident than I am. He chuckles again. He is only inches away from me. Please God, make it quick.

“I love how feisty you are. What a great queen you’ll make.” I didn’t think it possible, but I feel more terrified than before.

“Q-queen? What, why?” I stammer. His features light up with anger before they calm again.

“Oh,” he says. “I guess my buddy Scott didn’t talk to you like I asked. He didn’t explain that I wasn’t going to kill you. I'm taking you.” I close my eyes tightly and angle my face away from him. No, this can’t be happening. He touches my face and I pull away but face him again. When I open my eyes, I see shock and delight written all over his face.

“That’s interesting,” he beamed at me, once again grabbing my face. “You are purely pain. I’ve never met a creature with such pain.” I jerk away as he starts to take it away. He licks his lips. 

“I can take it all, darling.” He whispers into my ear. He trails kisses down my neck, taking pain with every kiss. He moans greedily as he feeds. I push him away. My skin crawling.

“I don’t want you to take it away,” I start, speaking for the first time in what feels like years. “It is mine.”

“Why would you want to carry such weight?” The Nogitsune asks, curiosity lining his question. 

“Pain is what makes you human. It’s what tells me I’m alive. And when I survive it, which I will, it strengthens me. Pain may be a burden, but it is one that will get lighter.” I announce. Just then, the pack come in through the door, looking battered and bruised but determined nonetheless. The fox sighs without even looking back.

He strokes my face, stealing my pain. My strength. “I guess our time is up.” Then he vanishes into thin air.

8

Marcus and Indra in 2x12 

We Did What? p.2

Someone requested a part two to this imagine so here it is!

Warnings: A little bit of swearing, beating someone with a wooden spoon
(Tom Holland x Reader)
Summary: After the entire incident with Tom he finally takes you on a date
AN: Sorry this took so long! I haven’t had time to write

Part 1

Masterlist

Originally posted by spideycentral

(gif ins’t mine full credit goes to owner)

________________________________________________________________

(Y/N)’s P.O.V

“It has been awhile since the entire incident happened with Tom but we finally figured it all out and we aren’t married now.”, I said into the phone. I was talking to my best friend and somehow got onto the topic of Tom.

“So has he taken you on that date yet?”, asked (Y/B/N)

“No, we have both been busy and we agreed that we wouldn’t go on that date until after we figured it all out and he has also been busy with filming so it probably won’t be for awhile.”

“Oh that’s a bummer. I know that you really liked him.”

“Yeah.”

“Well I have to get going. I’ll talk to you later. Bye!”

“See yah.”, I say hanging up the phone. She was right. I had liked him for awhile. I didn’t LOVE him but I would like to be able to hold his hand and call him my boyfriend. It just hasn’t happened yet. He was away at the moment filming so it probably wouldn’t happen for another couple of months. I walk to the kitchen in my house and start to make myself a sandwich. As I make my sandwich I hear a knock at my door. I wasn’t expecting anyone so I was just in my pajamas. I am hoping that it is just a sales person or something so I don’t go answer and just stay really quiet.

I wait for minute when I hear something like a key being put into the lock. Are they breaking into my house? I look around the kitchen and try to find something to defend myself. I look over at my knives but decide I don’t want to kill them just injure them away and call the cops. Without thinking I grab the biggest wooden spoon I could find and make my way to my front door.

I look over at the door and see the knob turning. I get ready to attack. The door opens all the way and I close my eyes and start running towards the guy and hitting him with my spoon. “Who the hell are you and why the fuck are in my house?”, I yell out still hitting him with the spoon.

“OW OW OW OW!”, he says, “(Y/N) what are you doing that hurts!”

“How do you know my name?”, I say slightly freaked out

“Because I am one of your best friends!”, he says

I slowly stop hitting him with a spoon and look at his face. It is Tom. “Oh my god, Tom I am so sorry! I wasn’t expecting anyone and the door started to open and I grabbed a spoon. Why did I grab a spoon?”

“It’s fine (Y/N). You could have gotten a knife or something worse.”, he says pulling me into a hug.

“Trust me I thought of it. So what are you doing here? You weren’t suppose to be back for months.”

“Well we got a little break.”

“For how long and where is all your stuff?”, I ask

“For two weeks and I am staying at a hotel.”

“Why don’t you just stay here?”, I ask confused he always stayed here when he came

“Well I thought it would be more formal for me to come pick you up for our first date.”, he says nervously

I can feel the blood rushing to my face and a smiling forming on my lips. “Date?”, I ask

He looks around the room trying to find something then goes over to a vase I have and takes out the flowers, “(Y/N) (Y/L/N) will you go on a date with me this Friday at 5?”, he says handing the flowers over to me.

“I would be delighted to go on a date with you!”, I say taking the flowers and putting them back in their vase. He gives a large smile and I smile back 

*flash forward to friday night*

“How is this?”, I ask my friend on skype. Tonight is the night of mine and Tom’s first date and I am trying to pick the perfect outfit

“Where did he say you were going?”, she asks

“He didn’t say where he just said wear something casual”, I reply

“A skirt and blouse is not casual.”, she says.

“It can be sometimes depending on the kind of person you are!”

“Well you are not that kind of person! Try something else.”

I go into my closet and look around, I choose some comfortable ripped jeans, a green baggy blouse, and some light brown flats. I get changed and walk back to the computer and show my friend, “Is this better?”

“It is perfect.”, she replies. 

“Really? It isn’t too much right?”, I reply

“Are you nervous?”, she asks.

“Yes! He has been one of my best friends since we were little. I have been to many places with him but never on a date!”

“You have nothing to be nervous about. He has loved you since forever.”

“Okay, thanks.”, I say to her with a little smile

After talking for a little bit more I hang up the call and start to work on my hair and make up. I decide for my hair to just brush it out and straighten it. For my make up I also go for more of a natural look. When I am all done I check the time. 4:50. not bad. I brush my teeth and grab a bag a similar color to my shoes.  I sit on my phone in the living room for a second and wait for Tom to come pick me up. 

I sit on my couch for a couple of minutes before I hear a knock at my door. I go to the door to see Tom standing there with a cute smirk on his face. “Hey.”, he says

“Hey”

“Are you ready to go?”, he asks offering me his hand.

“Yep.”, I say taking his hand and closing my door. We walk down to his car and he politely opens the door for me. He gets in the car and start to drive. we have a little talk in the car. While talking I take a moment to notice what he was wearing. He is wearing some blue jeans and a plaid shirt.

I look around and try to find out where we are going based on my surroundings. At this point I can’t think of anything. We continue the drive and the small talk until we finally parked somewhere. I look at the building and see the old go-karting place that we used to go to when we were younger. “Oh my god.”, I say looking at the building in amazement. 

“I thought you would enjoy this.”, he says getting out of the car. He walks over to the other side to open the car door for me. I get out of the car and look at him in amazement. 

“Wow.”, is all I can say to him, “Um I am surprised that you remembered this place, I totally forgot about it.”

“Well I thought it would be a fun idea.” he said, “You wanna go in?”

“Yeah”, I say taking his hand and walking to the front door.

We walk in and see all the cars and little kids running around and people racing. 

Tom goes over to the counter and pays so we can get in. We go to the line and luckily it isn’t that long so we don’t have to wait much. When we finally get there we are both in the front. “You are going down, Holland”, I say to him

“I doubt that, (Y/L/N), remember how good I was at this?”, he says

“Key word in that sentence is “was”.”

“You got me there.”, he says to me. I hear the bell ring and the lights are red. After a couple of seconds it turns yellow. Then it turns green, a whistle is blown, and a flag is waved. I race off. Tom fell a little behind at first. The race track was a big circle that we got to go around for 5 laps. My first lap I was in first place with Tom right behind me. On my second lap we are going back and forth between first place. Finally by my fifth lap I had won the entire thing. Tom had gotten third with some guy getting second. We continue on like this for about 45 minutes before we decide that it is time to go. 

We walk out to the car talking about the night that just happened.

“I killed at that!”, I say to Tom who lost to me a majority of the time. 

“How did you do so good? We haven’t done that for years!”, he replied’

“Well when you are that good at something you don’t lose it.”, I say getting into the car.

Tom lets out a little laugh. “You want to go get something to eat?”

“Yeah, I could use something to eat!”

We drive to a little Italian restaurant on 3rd street. We get seated and order (your favorite Italian food) and drinks. We spend the entire time laughing, talking eating. At the end of the night we were in there for another 45 minutes. After dinner we go walk around the park. “So how has filming been?”, I ask him

“It has been really great. I wish you were able to come.”

“Me too.”

“So how is school going?”

“Oh it is going good. I am passing a majority of my classes and that is the good thing.”

“Majority?”, Tom asks

“College is tough!”, I say to him. We both let out a laugh. We walk around the park a little bit more before we finally go back to my house.  

“I had a lot of fun today.”, I say to him\

“Me too”

“We should do this again sometime”, I say to him opening the door to my apartment.

“Yeah”

“Um. I’ll text you later.”I say to him giving him a hug. 

“Ya, I’ll see you later.”, he says letting go of the hug “See ya!”, he says with finger guns

I let out a small laugh “See ya!”, I say back along with finger guns. He lets out a laugh and walks down my hall. I go into my apartment and close the door. Next thing I know I am smiling the biggest smile I have ever smiled.

______________________________________________________________

GUESS WHO’S BACK!!!! I am so sorry I haven’t posted a story in so long but all of my older siblings and my cousin are moving out all in the same week and I have had to help with that. So yeah thank you for the patience and I hope you enjoyed the story!

Clarity: 3

Originally posted by i-lost-my-puddin

Clarity

Chapter 3: Stepping Stones

Summery: She skipped her session for a break, while he skipped his for a breather.

Bucky x Blind Reader

Walking in the library just in time, I sat down before I was caught being late. Brother thought it was funny to stop at a hotdog stand just to get him one. Either way, I made it just in time. Placing all my things around me, then grabbed my phone, clutching it between my fingers.

For the past week, I was overthinking everything. We had an amazing conversation. We bonded even more, we’re practically old high school friends. But then when Thursday afternoon rolled around and mother started talking about the support groups, my mind instantly channeled to my mystery man.  

Would he want to stop talking and just continue his work? Or would he start to ask questions about random things just like how he did last Friday.

I didn’t want to bother him that much. Considering we’re still fresh strangers, it was funny tho, because I feel like I’ve known this man my entire life. The way he’s always brooding in the dark, how his scent never fails to perk up my scenes, how his steps could be as silent as a feather, or how he would stomp his feet like a pregnant elephant. Sadly enough, I didn’t know anything more about him, save for he likes plums and works with my brother.

Speak of the devil. His footsteps were loud and full of authority. He made himself over to his seat, I sat there fidgeting while biting my lip. I wanted to ask him, wanted to talk to him, to see him…

He was cleaning out his things in spite of annoying me taking his time, all it did was get me all worked up and the courage to become nothing but butterflies fluttering inside my stomach.

“Stop moving so much, you look stupid.”

His sentence instantly came across as rude, but then, it clicked. He wanted to talk. Not ignore me and start working in whatever he normally does in the computer, pen and pencil.

“I don’t look stupid.” It came out as a whisper, merely because we’re at a library and I didn’t want to be thrown out.

“Well, you can’t see yourself.” He started, placing his pen over the paper. The thick ink and lid made a screeching sound as he sighed documents- Again that’s what my brain made it out to be.

“I’d like to think I look quite beautiful.” I countered, the phone still clutched between my fingers.

He chuckled, his vibrant boisterous laugh was something new. It sounded so manly, so raw, so edgeless… “I never said you look ugly,” He clarified, “Just stupid.” He corrected. If I didn’t know any better, I would say he had the butt of his pen pointed at me, in a teasing manner.

“What’s the difference?” I challenged. He was working in his computer now, I didn’t want to bother him more then I already had, but then… he’s just so intriguing.

“Definition of Ugly; Very unattractive or unpleasant to look at.” He trailed, his voice a million miles away, the scribbling of pen and key clicking taking over the small cubical of a library were at. “Definition of Stupid; Lacking ordinary quickness and keenness of mind.” He finished. Tapping his pen over the brim of the table.

“Then how did I look like I was ‘lacking ordinary quickness and keenness of mind’?” The grin I had plastered over my face was probably face splitting.

He stopped for a second, judging from what I hear, he was flipping through papers. But I knew his eyes were trained on me.

“Because you were moving like a 3 year old who pooped her pants.” He concluded, throwing a cold snort in the end.

Damn this man. I stayed silent then, tucking lose strands of hair behind my ear. I was running late so brushing my hair was out of the question. Thursday night was spent worrying if my mystery man was even going to talk to me; the thought of him suddenly leaving me alone when he became such a fixed variable in my life had scared everything out of me. It was… scary, so I overslept that Friday morning.

A weird feeling would run up my spine every now and then. Which would only mean he was staring at me. In all Honesty I think I was staring at him but then again I can’t tell.

“Can you tell me something about you?” It was sudden. Like there was no filter. But it came out from deep within my thoughts. I just needed to know something, I needed a description to ask my brother about. How I would bring up the subject was beyond me but I had to get information from him first. Mystery man was step number one.

“Exactly why should I tell you anything about myself?” He released an audible sigh, clicking his computer shut before hitting the brim of his pen over the hard word. The ‘click’ of the pen not going unnoticed.

“Because you can see me, but I can’t. I feel so…” I didn’t understand what to say, it was hard to voice out all my thoughts. There were so many excuses as to why he should describe himself to me, but then again… isn’t that human rights? His human rights if he ever so wishes to share things. But then, the way he demanded I answer him last week… he’s a brutal man non the less… so he just might need to taste his own medicine.

“Blind.” He finished instantly. It was funny. The way my heart was oozing delight. He understood me, he didn’t beat himself over something everyone was scared of doing; Talking to me like my age.

“Yes…”

“No.”

It was fast, the way he answered. Like he didn’t even need a second to think it over. What was so bad and scary about the fact I just wanted to know how he looked? Instead, I pushed out.

“It’s not like I’m going to do something, no one would trust a blind girl anyways-” It was a small shift, his feet from under had grazed mine by accident. Since he pulled away fast. “I’m blind, I can’t see anything, I won’t even be a threat to you.” This was it, I won’t bug him about anything anymore if he so as much stopped talking to me.

What we had going on here, was something big and I didn’t want to change that. Not now, not ever. This thing between us is progress, we started out as strangers and now we talk like friends.

“I have blue eyes, and brown hair.” His reply was gruff. I supposed that’s how he sounds like when he’s forced to do something he didn’t like. Its so perfect it’s like I can imagine the way he looks just by his actions.

“How tall?” It was quick, my question. Because I was afraid if he stopped talking then he would just ignore me for the day.

“Six feet something.”

“Gosh your so tall!” I let out, it was faint, but the way he snorted had emitted a blush from me. “What’s your favorite color?”

“I don’t have one.” He replied, “Is that all Miss (Y/L/N)?” The way he said my last name had caught me by surprise. It was like a bucket of ice cold water had been splashed over my heart. I stayed frozen for a second before remembering my brother works with him.

And suddenly, it because quite… his computer keys clicking while my breathing was being evened out.

When the time came, I stood. Put on my things and turned around where I hoped he would be. “I’ll see you next week.” I spoke. Before I had the chance to turn around his voice caught me by surprise.

“Sure you would.”

It clicked in my brain the choice of words I decided to give him. A radiant blush crept over my face, “Have a good week.”

“I doubt it,” He mumbled. His mumbles would probably get him killed someday, he just says whatever is on his mind without even thinking about it.

“If it makes you feel any better… I have to help mother babysit a few kids from the block for the whole week.” I stated.

“Good luck.” He spoke softly. He was truly a man of mystery. Without a second thought, I walked out before he could say anything else to keep me late.


“Good afternoon.” I was totally astonished, his voice was it’s normal murmur. But the fact he was here earlier then me had me thinking exactly why he comes here early. He never had an exact measured time when he comes, but he always would come after I’m sitting down for a few minutes.

This just has to be one of the very few times he had beaten me to our secret spot.

“Good afternoon.” I answered. My things following suit beside me. I grabbed my phone thinking he didn’t want to talk this week since he hadn’t been doing much over the past two weeks.

“How was baby sitting for you?” When your blind, all you have is the scenes of hearing. So that’s all I relied on for the last 3 whole years. His tone, was the first thing I look for when he says anything. To make sure he isn’t annoyed. And if he was, I would take the hint. This time, he just didn’t have much of a tone. It was like friendly chit chatting.

“It was… something new.” I started, pushing my hair away from tickling my cheeks. “One kid bit me because he thought he could, another one peed on me, then we have that one girl who pulled my hair and forced my eyelids open.” It was just meant to keep him updated, not make him ask me more. So before he could even have the time to ask me anything anymore. I went ahead and asked, “How about your week… if I’m not mistaken last week you sounded like it was the end of the world.”

He chuckled, “It was annoying. Had to deal with so many annoying idiots. I just don’t understand why they work for Stark.” His complaining side was something new. A new side of him, that I suddenly liked. He sounded like a whiney little girl.  

“It’s not like your an angle to work with.” I mumbled between his rants. He stopped, almost taking offense. “Your so uptight and strict-”

“Well, I like things getting done when they should. The way they should.”

“What exactly happened?” I asked, not even bothering taking out my phone this time.

“We went to Russia, to get a few documents. I’m very pleased we didn’t finish the mission.“

His words were that of a solider, without a doubt. He spoke barbarous like. “How can you be happy, that you failed your mission from Tony Stark?” I asked, see… this is my only time to get him to chalk up his identity. He said mission, so he must have worked with the big league.  

“Because the recruited people had failed.” He explained. I stayed silent for a while. He needs to tell me about himself.

“Were you the leader?”

“More or less,” He answered instantly. At this point my heart was racing, scared if he funded out I had a second intention for our conversation, if he works for Stark then he could probably hear my beating heart.

“Do you even enjoy what you do?” He sounds grumpy all the time, like he was forced to do the things he has to do.

“I enjoy the action, not the debriefing or the report typing.” He explained. He sounded guarded for a second. As if he found out what I need him to say.

“Are you done questioning me, or should I just put my life story out for you,” I knew he was being sarcastic, was just playing around. But I wanted it, I wanted to know him.

“Actually-”

“I was being sarcastic,”

“Gosh,” I mumbled, I had enough of him, “Saying your whole life story might be a bit exadurating, but how about something about your self?”

“I already told you something about me.” He stated. He shifted in his seat and his legs brushed mine from under see the table, this time gen didn’t need move it.

“Can I ask about the avengers?” I asked, if this guy is brooding all the time, complaining that he always hates what he’s doing, and mumbles a shit ton of crap about Steve, then I’m asking him about his job either he like she it or not. “For one last and only question?” He noiselessly hummed for me to ask away. 

And so I did.

“Is Steve that one who’s best friends with the Winter Solider?” It was an innocent question. Something I wanted to know. He was shocked, his breathing stopped half way, he must not have noticed talking about him, because then he wouldn’t be so shook.

“Yes.”

“Oh, wow Captain America is so sweet!” I exclaimed, this guy, who ever he is, is hiding something important and doesn’t even want to let go.

“Is that what you think of him?” He asked, genuinely curious.

“He’s the best leader, Amazing at his job. A wonderful person, very brave.”

“The Winter Solider?” My mystery man almost sounded scared. Like he needed to know my output on all of the people he worked with.

“He’s… different.“  I replied softly, truth be told James Buchanan Barnes was released out for the media about the same month I was hit by the car.  So I never saw a picture of him, especially since the one the government released was actually a fraud.

"Obviously, but what do you think of the Wintet Solider, former assassin, H.Y.D.R.A.’s greater weapon.” The way the sentence was structured. Like it was thought out, like my mystery man had history with James Barnes.

“I don’t know, I never got to meet him.”

“Such an honest reply.”

“Such a vague question.“

"Just wondering.” Just before he finished his sentence, he clicked his computer shut and shuffled his papers and pens in one area. The table rattling from between us.

“What do you think of him?” I asked suddenly, shattering his train of thoughts.

“I think he’s a Monster. He should be dead.” His tone was dead. The atmosphere around us was very thin. Just who am I talking to?

That scared me, I thought when he called me useless it stung. But now he’s talking about a man that went through years or torture and has the decency to call him out? Why…

“He was forced,” I explained softly, grabbing my phone from my bag, then placed it between my fingers and waiting for him to contribute to my explanation.

“Doesn’t make him less of a monster then he already is.” Mystery man stated. Like it was just normal to call people stuff like this.

“He’s better now, my brother talked about him a few days ago-”

“What exactly did he say?”

“That Bucky is very strong and a great hero.”

After that, it was silent. Truth be told I just didn’t feel comfortable talking to him at the moment, so I grabbed my headphones and jammed them in.

When the time rolled by, I stood up feeling for my things and grabbed my crane. Just as I was about to move out, he spoke.

“Bucky Barnes, still killed people with his own hands.”

“But not over his free will.” I retorted quietly. “Tell you what, a few years back we had a history class just for him, the teacher said that he spent over seventy years being tortured until just a few missions back did they break through him.” I was rambling, but this man needed to be put in place. “So imagine how strong his will was. What would you do if you were in his place?”

“Probably give up.”

“So he’s not a monster.”

With that said, I walked away before he could say anything else. He’s scary when he’s angry. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it now. His bluntness will get him killed some day. Leaving the library with a sour mood wasn’t what I expected this week, thanks to mister ‘Let’s judge everyone based on their life story’, Non the less, I was still hopeful for next week.

A/N:

Tagging is still open, Here is a link to my MasterList to catch up: //Masterlist

Tagging: @solsticestorm @smilexcaptainx @shamvictoria11 @my-jekyll-doesnt-hide  @heyitsarial @thelovablesociopath-blog @itsemz @themistsofmyavalon @damnbuckyishot @xaivierkun @slashheartlover @solsticestorm @crazybarnes @caitsymichelle13 @satanssmuts

Fight For Love 8

Later that day, after Sam has gone home, I’m lying on the bed scrolling through Tumblr. When I hear the front door click I can’t stop the smile that tugs at the corner of my mouth, and as Shawn walks into the bedroom it breaks into a full frontal grin.

“Hey.” Shawn grins looking down at me. I’m lying on my front and facing the foot of the bed, there’s a pillow under my chest to prop me up a bit so that I have the best possible view of the screen, and R. Kelly Ignition (remix) is playing on a YouTube tab. I crane my neck to get a good look at Shawn and upon seeing him my heart does a little flip. The boy is the embodiment of perfection, even when his hair which was perfectly quiffed this morning is completely dishevelled, and a light sheet of sweat coats his skin.

Out of nowhere I’m filled the sudden urge to make him even sweatier. As the idea takes shape a devious smile slips across my face and I eye my beautiful boyfriend. It’s so good to call him that again. Shawn Mendes: my boyfriend. I reach up and tangle my hand in his loose grey t-shit, then with quick tug, drag him down to my level. Shawn crouches before me with a gleam of excitement in his eye, I’m not usually this demanding and whenever I am… well lets just say things end very well.

 “Hi” I whisper once our lips are mere centimetres apart. Hungrily, I go to close the space but at the last possible moment Shawn snaps his head to the side and I get his cheek. Laughing, I push Shawn away, “You jerk!” I yell, smiling.

Shawn makes a big show of falling onto his lovely butt. He really is a born performer. He’s sitting on his bottom facing me, with his legs sprawled in front of him; Shawn proceeds to point an accusing finger towards me. “That,” he says, referring to the fact  I was only graced with being allowed a cheek kiss, “Was for the shitty music.”

“You mean I still have to listen to Ed when you aren’t here?” I say feigning angry shock.

“Of course!” Shawn says playing along. He rakes a huge hand through his floppy hair, “Or you know, any of the other greats.”

“But what if I want to listen you?” I tease. 

Shawn gawks and holds a palm across his heart, “Just for that I’m leaving you to go shower.” Shawn suddenly springs up from the floor like a jack in the box; unfortunately for the people downstairs he stomps out of the bedroom and doesn’t stop until he reaches the bathroom.

“No! Baby comes back!” I whine as he leaves but when I hear the shower turn on I give up and sigh with disappointment. A couple minutes pass and I continue to scroll through Tumblr before deciding that I fancy a beer. I tow myself out of bed and down the long stretch of hallway that leads to the kitchen and my precious drink.  

Upon my return to the bedroom, I take large swig of beer before resuming what I was doing on Tumblr (looking at Shawn Mendes smut to creep him out). After an eternity (eight minutes) the shower clicks off and a few seconds later Shawn enters the bedroom gripping a towel to his waist. He’s left a little trail of water from the bathroom to the bedroom. I stare at his hard abs and the bulging muscles on his arms as I wonder how on earth I managed to pull such sex bomb, who luckily for me, doesn’t have the douche bag personality that sex bombs stereotypically have. Cupid must really like me, either that or he owes me because I did him some awesome favour in a past life.

“Babe I know I’m hot but try not to drool, those sheets are clean.” Shawn jokes.

They won’t be once I’m done with you, I think thirstily. Instead I scowl and bite back saying, “Sorry baby, I’ll try not to. But don’t flatter yourself; I’m stalking Sammy’s Instagram.” I’m proud of myself for devising that come back, especially because I know that when Shawn hears me call Sam Sammy    he gets extremely jealous for some strange reason. 

He shrugs and turns away from me, which allows me to drool over his muscular back in peace. Shawn drops his towel to reveal his perky butt and I almost moan from longing. “I don’t care.”

 But I can tell I got to him because his voice is pinched, and slightly higher from trying to sound nonchalant. I watch in disappointment as he hauls on some trackies. I suddenly spring up from the bed, because if one thing can motivate me it is preventing Shawn Mendes from wearing clothing. I sneak up behind him and snake my arms around his damp waist, then I press my cheek into his muscular, yet surprisingly comfy back.

“It’s okay, I wasn’t really on Sam’s Instagram. I was looking at you smut.” I say gently as I lean into his back. His body is still warm from the hot shower, meaning I currently have my own heated blanket. For a while, at least. Shawn turns so that my cheek is now pressed into his chest and he wraps his arms around my waist as well. He pulls me closer to him.

“Gross” He replies, just as gently. I almost don’t notice the kiss he places on the top of my head.  

“Well when non-fictional you wasn’t paying me any attention I thought fictional you might.”

“Did he?” Shawn say’s with a crooked smile.

 I shrug, “Nah. He was too busy with some bitch called Y   N”

“Well that’s his loss.” Shawn leans down to kiss me; I push my body onto my tip toes so that I can meet him half way. His mouth captures mine and our lips move in slow unison as we melt into each other.  Shawn’s fingers ghost down my spine evoking a delighted shiver from me and I reach up to cup his cheek. But then with a self-restraining moan Shawn pulls away.

“As much as I’m enjoying this, what did Sam want earlier?”

Frustration shackles itself to me. I get that for some stupid, testosterone fuelled reason Shawn is jealous of my friendship with Sam, but why the hell is he asking me about Sam when we are getting it on. I shove him away from me as I storm over to the edge of the bed and throw myself down on to it. I cross my arms and pout.

 “Why are you bringing up Sam, Shawn?” I demand, but before he can answer I’m off again. “I had a really stressful day and here you are-” my voice cracks slightly and Shawn is sitting beside me in a flash. “Hey, hey, hey I’m sorry alright.” He says in an attempt to stop the tears. He’s got that injured puppy look again, and with that in mind I manage to sniffle them back. I hate seeing Shawn upset and for some strange reason in my head, ensuring Shawn doesn’t get that look takes priority over everything and anything else. I press my head into Shawn’s side and allow my eyes drift close. I take a couple of deep breaths to sooth myself as Shawn absently drags his fingers in a circular pattern around the base of my spine. “I’m sorry too. Do you really want to know what happened with Sam?” I say. I’m suddenly aware of how resigned I sound; I suppose I’m finally coming to terms with the fact that Shawn will always be slightly iffy when it comes to my relationship with Sam.

“Only if you want to tell me.”

And I do want to tell him. So, I spill everything. I talk about how Sam possibly got this girl pregnant and that I’m really scared about how he’s going to handle it if he is the dad. I don’t think he’ll give up his party life style easily. I tell Shawn that that i’m worried Sam isn’t coping. That this girl is really going to hurt him. How he’ll handle the backlash from fans, this could potentially ruin his career. 

Shawn, who is actually really taken back by the news, finally manages to say “Woah. Poor Sam…” And yes, while from most people this statement would sound patronising and as though they were mocking the situation coming from Shawn you can easily tell that he’s being one hundred percent genuine. Furthermore sharing everything with Shawn feels as though a boulder, which I didn’t even know was there, has been lifted off me.

“I thought when he wanted to talk to you he was just going to apologise for not being there for you the other night.” It takes me a moment to realise that Shawn is referring back to the party, but that feels like it was a lifetime ago. When in reality it was just over twenty-four hours ago when Shawn lugged my drugged arse home. It’s strange to think that less than two days ago I was completely torn apart from thinking that I’d never again have Shawn hold me, or that never again would I kiss his soft lips (that often have the taste of muffin lingering on them).

Beside me Shawn starts to move his mouth and form words, which pulls me back out of my thoughts. “Seriously Y/N, I’m sorry for being a jealous jerk back there. I know that Sam is your best-friend and nothing more. I get that my jealousy is completely unjustified and petty. I mean after everything you just told me, I can understand why you’re stressed, so I really am sorry if I was a dick.”

But now that I’ve ranted about everything to Shawn I’m not even half as stressed as I was fifteen minutes ago. A weightless smile wafts across my face “Shawn,” I say, pausing to appreciate how his name sounds on my lips- I love the way his name sounds on my lips, almost as much as I love the way mine sounds on his. “You can’t begin to comprehend how good I feel now that I’ve shared all of this stuff with you … it’s like I was really tired but then I drank like six cups of coffee.”

Shawn smiles at my terrible metaphor, “I’m glad I could help. But just an FYI caffeine is really addictive so you should probably lay off it, just a tad.”

In response I spin so that I’m straddling Shawn’s lap. Instantly his hands are on my back, ensuring that I don’t slide from his lap and make an undignified collision with the floor. In between kisses I manage to slur “If you’re the caffeine then there is no way that I’m laying off.” Shawn kisses me again, but this time there is slightly more ferocity in the kiss, he brushes his tongue over my lower lip, evoking a delighted moan from me and I grind myself into his crotch just for teasing’s sake.  Shawn slips his warm tongue into my mouth and we fight for dominance over the kiss. Eventually the need to breath becomes too immense to ignore and we’re forced to pull apart. Both of us are breathing heavily as we struggle to regain our breath. My forehead is pressed against his “FYI,” I manage to pant “Sam isn’t my best-friend, you are.”

For some mystical reason Shawn looks genuinely shocked but also unbelievably happy. He kisses me once more, despite still being out of breath. Then before I know what’s happening Shawn flips us over so that I’m lying underneath him as he kisses me. Shawn’s pressing against my body just enough for it to feel nice and simultaneously not crush me. “I have an idea.” Shawn announces between kisses.

“What’s that?”

With a wicked smile he replies, “We should try out this whole baby making act. It sounds fun.”  

“Definitely.” I agree before craning my neck to kiss him once more.

Shawn is in the process of tugging my top over my head when I press a hand on his chest and push him up.
Shawn’s now hovering above me, shirtless and in a press-up position, panting; his handsome features were shrivelled in concern. Our bodies are so close that I can feel the heat radiating from him, “Y/N?” He asks sounding hurt. I feel guilty and like a terrible person for making him sound like that, despite having no reason to feel either of those emotions. As I have said, upsetting Shawn really is like kicking a puppy- you become Satan.

“I just want to double check that when you say ‘try the baby making act,’ you mean try and fail… right?”

Out of nowhere Shawn produces a condom and after planting a quick kiss on my lips he answers me by saying, “For tonight at least.”

A small, relieved sigh escapes my mouth and I pull my top over my head while Shawn gets to work on my bra.

Downton Abbey by Liz Trubridge

The Beginning:

Finding Downton Abbey:

I joined Gareth and Julian on Downton in the very early days. There was a greenlight, a budget and a first episode but that was it so we spent a wonderful late summer/autumn going round the stately homes of Yorkshire – since Downton is set in Yorkshire it made sense to look there first. Except it wasn’t the first place we saw, Highclere Castle was our first stop as Julian had it in mind when he conceived of the idea and wrote the first script but we kept it on the back burner as a) it wasn’t in Yorkshire and b) it was just a bit too far from London for a daily commute with long filming hours. The problem was we couldn’t find a complete house in Yorkshire that was the right size and offered everything we needed: a grand driveway, a great hallway and staircase plus several staterooms and bedrooms.We found composites but not the whole thing so, after looking closer to London and not finding exactly what we were looking for, we returned to Highclere and we all agreed it really was perfect. Just the right size for an Earl in Robert’s position. So we decided it would be our Downton Abbey and we would find a way to deal with the travel problem.

The Look and The Feel:

One of the other big advantages to us of Highclere was that it didn’t look like any of the other houses that we were used to seeing in period drama..it was not Palladian, nor was it Georgian) and we were keen to give DA a different feel. We wanted it to feel like a contemporary world as if the audience were watching it at the time that the characters were living, for the colours to be bright, the costumes to feel like the clothes that had been chosen from their wardrobes, that every detail should be considered, whether seen on camera or not, in order to create an authentic world. The music of John Lunn was so key to the overall feel of the drama and when we heard the theme tune for the first time, Gareth and I had no doubts that this was the one…we knew it had to be rousing and exciting and reflect the world and John certainly delivered that several times over.

Casting:

The challenge and the excitement of casting this ensemble were that we had to create not only a believable family but the entire household and it was clear that it would be a mixture of well-known names and totally unknowns. We were all relieved that the marvelous Jill Trevellick was our Casting Director as it was a daunting task. Hilariously our auditions must have been a weird sight: Jill had broken her foot and was in plaster and on crutches, I had badly broken my arm and had a plate and several pins in it and Brian, our director, had an eye infection so heaven knows what the actors thought of us….it certainly broke the ice at the start of each audition! Julian and I had just finished a feature film starring Maggie Smith and it was clear from the start that she would make the perfect Violet so we started the process of press-ganging her into to saying yes! Robert was the next piece of key casting and Hugh was the stand-out choice for all of us (he had also been in the feature with Julian and me) and so we were delighted when he agreed. Over the following months all the rest of the parts fell into place and it became very clear when sitting in the auditions with Brian and Jill how lucky we were to have so many good actors eager to play these parts. Gradually, frontrunners for each role became clear and the cast came together. I will never forget the goosebumps I had at our first readthrough just looking round the room and seeing this cast step into their roles for the first time.

The Script:

The moment I read Episode 1, I was hooked and couldn’t wait for Julian to write Ep 2. I’d read the series ‘bible’ and was excited about how he would flesh out the storylines and by the time Ep 3 came in with the infamous Mr Pamuk I could see that it was more than living up to my expectations.

The success:

Although we knew by the end of Series 1 that we had a classy series on our hands, we had no idea if it would work on ITV (as large-scale period drama had not been on the commercial channel for over 30 years) but it wasn’t until our audience figures were so good and were climbing every episode that we allowed ourselves to hope for a second series commission. It came after Episode 3 and we eagerly embarked on development for that at the same time as finishing post production on Series 1…this was a pattern that continued for the following six years…

Once the award nominations started coming and our very surprise win at the Emmy’s for our first season, we realized we were in the midst of something very special both at home and abroad. Never in a million years did we imagine it would sell in over 250 territories all over the world and have such a global impact. I still pinch myself regularly at the sheer scale of it all.

Of course, one of the downsides for producers of this kind of success is that, inevitably, the cast become much sought after which led to some early exits for some of our characters that we had to grapple with…of course, any long-running series needs some new blood in the cast from time to time to keep it fresh but it is always sad to lose a character from the ‘family’ we created. It also caused logistical problems as we filmed for six months every year and the cast were always being made other offers which they were keen to fit in where I schedule allowed. You can imagine the conundrum when a cast of 25 each has requests for time off! Most of our problems though were a direct result of the show’s global success so we could hardly complain about that!

It is astonishing to think that Julian wrote all 52 episodes, a truly remarkable achievement, and that he did so in such a tight time frame (he would start writing in September, we would start shooting in Febrary until August and then we would transmit while we were still finishing off the series and then he’d start all over again!). Sometimes this rather intense schedule took its toll….I broke my arm in Series 1 and my ankle in S6, just to neatly bookend it!

The end:

Key Moments: There have been so many, each episode has it special moments and these are just a few:

- obviously when we said goodbye to Thomas Howes (William) in S 2 and to Jess Brown Findlay (Sybil) and Dan Stevens (Matthew) in S3 these were huge moments in the series and really sad for everyone concerned. - The filming of the Mr Pamuk scenes, the Suffragette rally, the trenches, Mary and Matthew’s proposal and their wedding. Indeed all the weddings we’ve had: Daisy and William, Bates and Anna, Edith being jilted by Sir Anthony, Rose and Atticus, Carson and Mrs Hughes and, of course, Mary and Henry. Then there’s Bates’ trial, Anna’s rape, Anna’s arrest, the point-to-point, the car race, the cricket match and not forgetting Violet and Kuragin and Isobel and Merton.

Our visitors: We had great pleasure in welcoming the Duchess of Cambridge to Ealing Studios, the rest of Kate’s family (the Middleton’s) to Highclere, the Duchess of Wessex visited twice and the First Lady of Mexico. Then, of course, there was George Clooney filming for Text Santa alongside our other guests: Joanna Lumley and Jeremy Piven.

Our legacy: For those of us lucky enough to have been involved in this phenomenon from the beginning, we have been part of an unforgettable experience as television history was made. We have formed life-long friendships and will be talking about it – and writing about it – for a long time after the final scene has aired. We are immensely proud of what we were able to achieve together, both cast and crew alike and we’ll miss it terribly. But it was right to end it now with people still wanting more and now that the last episode has been delivered to ITV, I for one want to enjoy the memories and share the huge joy of being a part of it.

mynameishazard  asked:

Prompt: Scott and Stiles paint each other at the rave. Amount of undress is up to you, preferably kisses. Scott lets his eyes flash red under the blacklight.

“You’re not gonna draw a dick on me, are you?” Scott asks, eyes closed, as he feels the press of the paintbrush on his cheek.

“Would I?” Stiles says cheekily.

“You would,” Scott says, and opens his eyes. Stiles’ face is close to his, chewing his lip in concentration.

Scott shuts his eyes again before he thinks too much about Stiles’ lips. 

“It’s red, to match your eyes,” Stiles says, when Scott stops feeling the bristles of the brush against his cheek. 

Scott flashes his eyes at Stiles, who grins back, delighted.

“Okay, do me,” he says, and hands over a clean (ish) paintbrush.

“Do you?” Scott asks. He watches Stiles’ adam’s apple bob as he swallows, his heartbeat rising, though Scott can barely hear it over the music.

“You know what I mean,” Stiles says, the words coming out in a quick rush.

“Yeah,” Scott says. “Face or body?”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “Face, dude, c'mon.”

“I’m sure there are people in here that’d love to see you shirtless," 

Stiles bites his lip. "Not today.”

“Sure,” Scott says with a smile, and dips the paintbrush in the green paint. “Turn your head to the side.”

Stiles complies, and Scott holds his jaw in one hand and the paintbrush in the other as he starts drawing an intricate design from Stiles’ cheekbone all the way down to his neck.

“You done?” Stiles asks, when Scott pauses for too long to examine his work.

“Yeah,” Scott breathes, and he knows Stiles can’t hear him, but he’ll get the gist anyway.

“Well you’re still holding on to my face,” Stiles says, 

“Oh,” Scott says, and he doesn’t let go. 

“Paint my lips,” Stiles says, suddenly.

Scott raises an eyebrow, but complies. 

“Why?" 

Stiles waits until Scott is finished to answer, the paintbrush dropped on the table. They’re still standing unnaturally close.

"So I can leave a mark,” Stiles says, so quiet Scott barely catches it. The flicker of Stiles’ eyes down to his lips is more than obvious enough for Scott, though, so it’s not a surprise when Stiles presses their lips together.

Without even thinking about it, Scott drops his hands to Stiles’ waist and deepens the kiss. 

It’s all heat, in a dark room under a blacklight, and it’s better than Scott ever thought it would be.

It doesn’t even bother him that he wakes up the next day not just with hickeys, but with paint all over his neck.