thbb ok quick writing thing to just get it out of my head
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You turn towards him when he calls your name, his fingers and palms meeting your cheeks as he cups your face. He stares intently at you-- not at your eyes, but something else, something that you've almost put your finger on before he leans forward to kiss you on the nose.
Oh.
He pulls away, smiling, looking utterly pleased with himself. His thumbs rub at your cheekbones. You frown, decide that looks too angry, decide on a pout.
"What was that for?" You know what it was for. You're trying not to blush.
"Daily Nat's Nose Appreciation. It's a thing now, I think," he says, moving his hands to rest on your shoulders. "Yeah. Definitely a thing," he says, watching the flush rise in your cheeks.
"My nose isn't that great. Too big," you say, turning away from him but his hands go to your face again, turning you back to him. "What! It isn't, Ptolemy."
He looks at you, just as intently as before, turns your face this way and that way, up and down, pulls away and looks at you from afar, leans in and looks at you so close you can almost feel his breath. Finally, he seems to come to a conclusion.
"...still a dreamboat. Yeah. And still a cute nose."
"Ptolemy, my nose is the size of a boat."
"Then why don't you take me out for a ride on your dreamnose, dream boy?"
You snort, splutter, look entirely unattractive, but he still smiles wider. Your lips are a hard line as you try not to laugh.
"What? Is there something on my face?"
"No, no, I just--"
"Did I say something silly? Something embarrassing?"
"No! I. Well yes, but." You give up trying not to laugh and fall forward, hiding your face against his collarbones. He squirms.
"I don't understand Nat. What is so funny. There is no way I said anything incredibly dorky." You take a moment to calm down before you let your arms fall over his shoulders, breathing in deep. He holds you as your laughter subsides.
"Thank you," you say, so quietly you almost don't hear it, but he hums and strokes your hair. You tighten your grip around him. "Thank you."
"You are welcome, Prince Dreamnose."
"Don't start again."
"Start what, Dreamy McNosepants?"
"Ptolemy I can't breathe--"
"What is so funny, Boy With the Dreamy Nose!"
Cackling, pulling him closer, trying to hide your face and kiss his all at once can only lead to you falling to the floor from your perch on the couch, but with the way he's laughing too, now, with the way he's trying to pull you closer and hide his face and kiss yours all at once, well.
You, Sir Dreamboat of the Family Dreamnose, can't bring yourself to care.
hahhaa um im really bad at writing under pressure but i wanted to write natolemy and i thought this was a good time to try to... improve so uh haha here are 10 little fics only the instrumentals are really good eheh also um 5 + 6 involve blood and 7 is nsfw uh yeah here we go
it's mostly magical girl au but whatever
1. A Light In the Dark - Next to Normal
Ptolemy knows there's a good chance that Nathaniel will forget about him when he leaves, will forget about all of them. He knows how it is. He knows the whirl you get caught up in when you leave for a new place, when you do something for yourself.
And maybe it's selfish, but Ptolemy sends him letters, anyway, making it very clear that he won't be (that none of them) will be forgotten without a fight.
Nathaniel doesn't put up much resistance anyway. The thought never really crossed his mind.
2. Gabriel - Lamb
Nathaniel's fingers are long and his nails neat and manicured (now that he no longer feels the need to bite them down to the quick), his hair is short but it brushes his neck, his cheekbones. Ptolemy memorizes every detail, every bit lip and every scar from scrapes that no one was around (no one that he wanted around) to take care of proper. Ptolemy breathes out smoothly even as Nathaniel's breath shakes, takes his hands in his smaller ones, presses his lips to his forehead.
Nathaniel is a thing of beauty, Ptolemy decides, something to be cradled against your chest, something he wants to lock away for himself. Ptolemy lets go of Nathaniel's hands. Nathaniel's eyes open (dark blue, like a storm, and it is breath taking) and he smiles, nods.
Ptolemy has already been locked away himself.
3. Surgeon - St. Vincent
Nathaniel's hair is too short to braid, but Ptolemy tries anyway, little messy things that he sticks flowers into, something to keep his hands busy. Ptolemy plays with the collar of his shirt, the pockets of his jeans, hangs himself all over Nathaniel.
He doesn't think he's ever seen Ptolemy sitting still, not even in the haze that comes after Nathaniel lifts nervous fingers from his shirt and kisses him soundly-- his hands are tangled in Nathaniel's dark hair, flowers falling to the floor and neither of them caring as they fall too. Ptolemy is a being of nervousness, a being of nervousness that moves like fluid, like cool water. Ptolemy is a beautiful, busy thing.
4. Drunken Sailor - Great Big Sea
Ptolemy is nowhere near a lightweight, but Nathaniel is, and Ptolemy finds himself playing along just to avoid the terrible teary-eyed and embarrassed face he'll find moping under the blankets in the morning. They sing, loudly, badly, get thrown out of a bar or two, end up sitting together on a park bench, still singing.
There is nothing to be gained when your mind is blank and your hands are covered in blood that isn't yours. No, there is very little to be gained in bloody hands and shaking limbs (shaking limbs that are your own, limbs that are useless.) There is nothing to be gained when the spark in his eyes is fading fast, when the spark in your own eyes is gone.
No, there is nothing to be gained when he is being pulled downward by his own thorns. There is nothing to be gained when you are being pulled downward by your own waves.
6. Slinger's Song - Darren Korb
There is, however, something to be gained in the sudden realization that you are the embodiment of the tides, that he is the embodiment of stone, and sand, and all things of earth. There is something to be gained in the realization that you meet him as a crashing tide and though you may displace him, dishevel him, he sucks you in, makes you his.
There is something to be gained in this because you find your limbs regaining their strength-- the shaking stops, you wash the blood off your hands, stand. You pick your way through his thorns, hands covered with blood that is your own, now, and find that he has been picking his way through to you.
There is something to be gained, because he has come to a very similar realization to you-- you are his, and there is no point in giving up if you still exist.
His grin is bloody, smug, one that mirrors your own in the most terrible of ways.
You don't kiss. It seems inappropriate. You turn together to face the wrath you've awoken in your trail.
7. Flesh - Simon Curtis
One does not expect Ptolemy, all 5 feet of him, all curly haired and sparkling dark eyes, to be this enthused by the idea of pounding Nathaniel into the sheets, but he is.
One does not expect Nathaniel, all 6 feet and 2 inches of him, to be so incredibly turned on by this idea, either, but that doesn't change a thing.
Ptolemy is careful, at first, teeth just grazing flesh but Nathaniel eggs him on, begs him, when Ptolemy asks him, and the sight of Nathaniel, beautiful, intelligent, prideful Nathaniel, on his knees with his lips too red and his vision hazy is too tempting in the end.
8. Summer Storm - Rococo Quartet
Ptolemy runs outside in the rain, yelling, rather, ignoring the way he'll smell like a wet dog when he comes inside. Nathaniel watches somewhat nervously (somewhat skeptically, somewhat embarrassedly) from the doorway until suddenly one of Ptolemy's small, soaked hands is in his and pulling him into storm. He yells something about his hair being ruined, about how they'll catch a cold and both smell awful, but Ptolemy ignores him, pulls him down to kiss him.
Nathaniel decides the cold is worth it as he pins Ptolemy against his car.
9. The Wizard - Bat For Lashes
It doesn't surprise Nathaniel when he realizes he would do just about anything for Ptolemy. He gets the feeling it's a common reaction to being around someone like him-- he's too fragile looking, too small to not want to protect.
But protection isn't the goal, for Nathaniel.
Burning the world down for Ptolemy, is.
Drowning it in the seas.
Tearing it asunder.
Blowing it away.
He'd do it all, he realizes, and it's terrifying the passion he feels.
Ptolemy doesn't want the destruction of the world, he decides, tucking the thought away as a reminder that Ptolemy will never learn what he could do, what he would feel no regret for doing. Ptolemy wouldn't want that, he says, quietly, and unclenches his fists.
10. The Brotherhood Escapes - Jesper Kyd
Neither have been particularly good runners, but they are now, hand in hand, terrified and just barely containing the disgusting excitement that threatens to burst from their chests.
They are children of solitude and quiet, but something about running from a creature ten times their size with too many teeth to count is more beautiful an experience than any book they've read in their life. It is when they realize this that they turn, nearly at the same time, though Nathaniel skids a bit, to face the beast.
