cele/bezz + things you said when you were drunk
-daisy (@lastlatebraker)
things you said when you where drunk (bezzetti)
“Stronzo! Eat your own things, not mine!” shouts Pecco, shoving Mig aside. Mig collapses on the chair, laughing, a big laugh that comes from the stomach, and Luca falls down on the sticky surface of the table, headfirst, shoulders shaking.
Cele looks at them from the other side of the table, eyes blinking, trying to clear his head. He drank just enough to feel completely stupid, but now he wishes the feeling could be washed away in a second, with a snap of his fingers. It’s five am, and they are sitting inside of a kebab shop, after getting out of the club all wobbly and laughters, leaning onto each other to not fall down.
Nelli, the only one sober enough to still walk straight, plops down in the chair next to his, the tray in his hands hitting heavily the table, a couple of chips falling out of it and on the wood, thanks to the impact. Somebody’s hand immediately reaches out to get them.
Cele kind of feels in his own world. Words don’t stick, flying around in his head, and he can’t grab them, make them stay still enough for him to give them any meaning or sense.
He keeps blinking, hard, in the hope of something sticking. Nothing does.
Something hits him in the shoulder, hard. He almost jumps from the surprise, but then he turns his head, and it’s only Marco. Marco who drank too much, so much that when they got into the kebab shop he simply collapsed onto a table and didn’t say a word, didn’t even ask for food.
He always gets like this, when he drinks too much. Confused and loose limbed. Affectionate, almost sticky in his need. Cele doesn’t mind it, when Marco comes from behind him on the dance floor and hugs him tight, screaming in his ear, or when he wraps one of his arms around his waist while they wait for their drinks at the bar. He likes it, actually.
Maybe more than he should.
Cele gets one of his arms around Marco’s shoulders and squeezes, bringing him a bit closer. Marco smiles, his eyes closed.
The others are still talking, laughing, and Luca is moving his hands around wildly, pieces of lettuce flying out of his sandwich. Cele stops trying to understand what they are saying.
Marco starts nuzzling against Cele’s neck, and the brush of his untamed hair against his skin makes him ticklish. It’s... nice. A smile spreads on his lips. He can feel Marco’s mouth stretching against his neck, in a curve that’s twin to his own.
Cele mindlessly puts one of his hands in Marco’s curls, playing with them, and Marco melts against him.
It’s only the two of them in the whole world.
After some time, Marco, uncoordinated and messy, puts one hand on Cele’s thigh and climbs up with his mouth, reaching Cele’s ear.
“You know.” he says, whispers, and Cele can feel his lips against his skin. The sting of his scruff.
“You know,” he continues, “I think. If you were a girl. I would fuck you.” and then he giggles, one of his soft laughs, burying his head deep down into the crook of his neck, pushing his nose against the muscles.
Cele can feel his blood pumping, in his hands, in his veins, in his carotid against which Marco is hiding his face. He doesn’t-
He tries to make sense of the word he just heard. Maybe the alcohol just scrambled them too. But Cele can see them, written in front of his eyes, and they are not moving. He can feel their sour taste against his tongue with extreme clarity.
If you were a girl.
Cele wishes the alcohol could make him feel stupid again, sheepish and without a care in the world. But it’s too late. It’s gone now.
If you were a girl.
Mig shoves a chip in his face.
“Do you want it? I put some lemon on it, it's a banger!”
Cele takes the chip.
It tastes like tears.
Marco keeps nuzzling against his neck.
send me a pairing and one of these and i’ll write a mini fic
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Harrow the Ninth Reaction - Chapter 25
hah, she’s telling the Emperor Ortus the First kissed Cytherea as part of a gossip tea sesh, this is hilarious. also what with this and the Silas & Gideon meeting last book, dramatic tea parties are becoming a staple
‘Harrow do something normal’ omfg, GOD thinks Harrow is being too weird. he really just told her to get a life
and Harrow does what many a person does in an existential crisis - learn how to cook!
girl hasn’t slept for six days? idc if she’s a Lyctor, she’s gonna pass out soon
the whole the Emperor serving the food at the table - what with this and calling his Lyctors his children, there’s a weird emphasis on almost forcing domesticity
Harrow added all the veggies Ortus the First doesn’t like, she’s so petty lol
WHAT THE FUCK. she put HER OWN bone marrow in the soup to murder him from the inside out???? ok i absolutely double down on never wanting to eat anything any of these people make. i see this is the book to traumatise me with cannibalism, i’m not eating soup ever again
‘his eyes were the eyes of death’ also holy shit this guy in general is very powerful, and it think this is the first chapter to really get it across. also wdym its been a thousand years since you ate human being, dude - again suggests that he did also take part in a similar process as the Lyctors to become what he is now?
also, you’re not okay with them trying to kill each other in front of you, but anywhere else is fine? what kind of a rule is that?
Harrow when this sleep deprived is, uh, unhinged to say the least.
also Mercy gradually decreasing the ages that she’s calling Harrow is hilarious, at a certain point she’s just going to be calling her a toddler
fuck me this chapter was something else to read, i think its probably the first chapter to properly shock me like Gideon the Ninth did
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