#and at the point of the mating season that has as far as i remember disappeared completely

[greenandsorrow]

the price for misbehaving (ii)

post rut Alastor x gn!reader

WARNINGS; the aftermath of a very horny fic, mentions of deer mating season, friends to lovers, deer/doe!demon!reader, reader with self worth doubts, a sprinkle of angst, curly-haired!Alastor, undertones of Alastor being a momma's boy, mentions of his past, making out, fluff (literally), plot

Dividers by; @saradika-graphics & @cafekitsune

Please do not repost or directly copy my work and don't use it on AI platforms either.❤️

From a smutty oneshot to a multi chap fic. Nothing can compare to the chunkiness of the 1st chapter, but I'm satisfied with this one as well. Enjoy you lovely beings and thanks for being patient with me!!! The art above is by @kalico-of-doom.

~masterpost~

The only time Alastor isn't smiling is when he's sleeping you have come to realize. You can't help but notice how tired he looks as you lay motionless beside him. You start petting his ears and he groans softly, nuzzling deeper into your touch without even bothering to open his eyes. A small smile forms on his mouth, a real one. Is this really the same man that has been fucking you until your legs stop working?

In the morning you wake up in his bed, a daily occurrence at this point. However, you weren't expecting him to be staring deeply into your contemned soul.

"A- Al?"

Your voice is hoarse from sleep. You scratch your deer ears, flop on your back and stretch. Alastor keeps staring, studying you and every micro expression you make.

You can feel fear creeping into your gut. Is this the end? Is the rutting season gone? Does he want to kill you and eat you now? Will he kick you out? One thing is certain.

He doesn't need you anymore.

After all, you were just a friend helping him go through a difficult time. Nothing more. Still, you would be lying to yourself if you said that you haven't caught any feelings. From his forceful claiming that hid a great deal of desperation to his tender claiming last night, Alastor has left more than just his mark on you. One could say that he owns you in the most primal and raw of ways, but if he chooses to deny that... that's all it takes really, then you were nothing but a fucktoy.

"Um... I- I'm gonna take a shower"

Is that you doing the walk of shame? Alastor is a gentleman, why isn't he saying anything?! Not a single thing that could make you feel less terrible about the whole situation!

Now that his hormones have died down and you are far from aroused as well, getting out of bed and standing completely naked in front of him... It makes you feel exposed, vulnerable, small and inferior to him.

This new emotion, the deep embarrassment that has your face feeling hot and your stomach to churn with anxiety makes you dress up and leave "your friend's" room in the speed of light.

You lock yourself in your much smaller room, preparing a bubble bath for your spent and tired body. You smile to yourself a little, remembering how Charlie had made sure you'd have your own bathtub so that you can read your books while soaking in the warm water.

Sinking in the water, having it envelope you, cleanse your energy and take his scent off of you feels nice. You let your eyes droop until they close lazily, you allow your shoulders to relax, your jaw to unclench. A long and audible sigh. Your hands around your frame.

You start crying.

If another deer demon resided in the hotel, he might as well had spent his breeding season with them. You weren't special. The mere thought of such a thing is killing you. You were just another victim of the radio demon's manipulation.

Still, it's your fault as well. For believing this was more than what it appeared to be? Maybe. You are getting more and more confused by the minute.

But oh the way he had been repeating your name like a prayer... It must mean something to him, you being there for him that is. You didn't even judge the way he had spilled tears of sexual frustration when handjobs weren't enough to relieve the ache in his loins.

Who else has seen Alastor Hartfelt of pride under this light? No one. You are the only exception. He wouldn't have allowed you to get so close to him if he didn't trust you.

As your thoughts keep overlapping and fighting with each other and you continue to cry softly, you peak up the all too familiar sound of static.

Another unfair thing! He can melt into shadow and go anywhere he pleases... The sound intensifies as he approaches... you? Is he really thinking of invading your space like that? You can't even cry and be miserable at peace! Not like you're in Hell.

"Bonjou! Konmen s'apé kouri? Huh?"

Not only are you not in the mood to ask him to translate what he just said, but Alastor literally spawned in your bathroom and he's now acting like this is okay to do. The way he's readjusting his lapels and smiles smugly like he wasn't a grunting mess last night infuriates you even further.

"Can you please get the fuck out of here?"

"Mh?" he just stands there in his usual apathy. He's even holding his cane.

"Can you at least stop smiling for a second?"

"Oh ho! I'm afraid I can't do that my dear!"

"But you can definitely get your ass out of my room! I-" The sound of your voice carries to your ears like a child whining. There's a lump in your throat that you're beginning to fear you won't be able to keep down for much longer. If your face and hair weren't already wet from the bath, then it would be crystal clear that you were weeping like an idiot before he suit himself in.

Alastor is quick to gauge your body language. You're hugging your knees, shielding your naked body from him. Sometimes you swear he can tell your emotional state by sniffing the air around you. It's like your scent is enough for him to piece together the puzzle you are. The radio demon scranches his nose.

"What's there to be so sad over y/n? Today is a beautiful day!"

Is he playing stupid?! Because if he's doing this on purpose... Well, there's not much you can do now that he doesn't need you anymore.

Your lower lip trembles at this terrible thought and the lump in your throat escapes your notice, resulting in a broken and weak sob to come out of you.

Tilting his head to the side way more than necessary and squinting his eyes, Alastor asks "Are you pregnant?"

You freeze and widen your eyes. "I- Is that even... even fuckin' possible in the afterlife?"

The fucker chuckles!

"Oh I don't think so, at least not for lowly demons such as yourself!" The worst part is that he wasn't trying to insult you by saying that, but rather calm you down.

"Go to Hell."

"Ironic."

You can't help it now. You break down in tears. Your chest feels tight as the sobs ripple through your body and make your frame retreat to itself. In addition to your general misery, the water has gone cold, causing you to shiver.

The overlord places his cane against the tiles of the wall and crouches down so he is eye-level with you. He won't let it show just yet, but Alastor is very worried. There's a guilt eating him from the inside.

While he was in heat, in breeding mode, or whatever you wanna call it, he wasn't fully aware of his actions. Alastor's mind was blurred from the desire to mate and basically reproduce. Now that he's back to his senses, he has come to the unpleasant realisation that he might have caused you harm in the process of letting out his passion.

And this simply won't do! This deer demon has done cruel and vile things that he doesn't particularly feel bad about, but hurting you... He would never be able to forgive himself.

You were there for him and showed him a great deal of love and understanding.

So, that's the reason you left so hurriedly from his quarters... He hurt you. He hurt you. He hurt you. He hurt you. He hurt you. He hurt you. He hurt you. He hurt you. He hurt you. He hurt you. HE DID IT TO YOU.

Alastor's permanent grin fades just slightly. It is replaced by concern, evident in the way he looks at your trembling body in the water. He reaches out to gently touch your skin, checking for any signs of pain or discomfort. Your friend's voice softens, it's now filled with genuine worry and regret.

"I'm so sorry darling... I didn't know I caused you... pain."

It's true that you have many bruises and hickeys decorating various places on your body, but that's not the reason behind your breakdown.

"I- It's not th-" you just look down. You can't even explain yourself.

The radio demon's worry deepens after your vague response and he quickly takes action to be by your side, pulling you out of the bathtub and into a tight hug. Alastor whispers reassurances in your ear, his voice filled with remorse.

"I'm so sorry... We should have stopped when it got too much."

No one has heard Alastor apologize before, not even God, for all that's worth.

His expression softens even further as he sees your tears that just keep coming. He carefully brushes them away, worry etched into every line of his handsome face.

"I didn't mean to make you cry. You must know that."

"I'm not in pain... Just sad."

You do look rather devastated.

Alastor is almost frozen in place from all the guilt since he can now see the bruises forming on your skin. The water camouflaged them, but now they are exposed for him to observe and take in.

He swallows hard, his voice shaking with emotion like never before. "Y/n... I didn't mean to do that. I didn't. None of it."

"None of it?"

Your voice is muffled due to how you have hid your face in his chest. At least he's warm.

"My intention wasn't to cause you injury or physical pain."

You look up at him, finally making eye contact. He's looking at you as well, eyes shining with regret, guilt and what appears to be shame.

What really surprises you though, is the pleading tone of his voice. It's one thing to be vulnerable because he's hungry for sexual contact and another because he genuinely cares for you.

"Can you ever forgive me for this? I promise, it was never my true intention. I just... I got carried away. And now... It's not an excuse..."

"You really meant none of it to happen between us?"

"Now now little deer! Someone's getting ahead of themselves! That's not what I implied at all."

You sigh and settle in his lap.

"Oh mon cher, did you really think I regret our... stimulating times?"

Alastor's long arms press you against him, his clothes absorbing the water on your still bare skin. He then peaks you up bridal style and carries you to your bed. It's not king sized like his but he doesn't seem to care for such detail right now.

"Now let me see you."

"I said I'm fine!"

"The artist will be the evaluator of his work."

"No Al! Artists get critics to evaluate their work."

"Hmmm, did you say something dear? Cause I didn't hear you!"

It's a common tactic of his to hide his real feelings by being chatty and pleasant. You of course know that, but in your current state it's very validating to have him take care of you.

So he did care. And he still does after having stopped necessarily needing you.

Alastor isn't joking around. He's searching your body, subconsciously writing down every scratch, every bruise and hickey, every bite mark.

Ears alert on top of his head, eyes wide open. He can even make out the shape of his fingertips on your hips... He turns you on your stomach only to discover his whole palms are imprinted on your buttocks. Meanwhile, you just allow him to inspect your body for as long as he wishes. All the crying has left you drained but also tranquil and calm.

"I'm fine Al. Really."

"Shhh, I'm not done evaluating the damage."

"It's just a bite or two."

"I drew so much blood..."

"Yes and?"

He just keeps observing, keeps rolling you this way and that. The scratches and the bruises are the most triggering to him. They remind Alastor of unhappy memories, in the days when he still hadn't taken good care of his father. As long as he hasn't permanently marked you it should be fine.

"I'll ask Niffty for some ice."

"N- no... Can we just... sit here? Like... cuddle?"

"You were my solace."

"What-"

He gently presses a finger on your lips to shush you.

"Thank you."

"You don't have to say that. It's not like I helped you with a flat tire or something."

"I don't do cuddling."

"Nor touching for that matter. But... It's not that bad, huh? Just let me put something on first."

You stand up and go to your closet to pick something to put on. Your hair is still wet and your legs still feel sore from all of your intense moments, but it was a relief to know he still wants you in his life after the rut has ended.

Alastor's behaviour makes you wonder. He's contradictory. From fucking your throat in his radio station, to bending you over various objects in the hotel, taking you in missionary, against walls, windows and doors, he still seems pretty reluctant to give himself to intimacy. Unlike those times, his mind is now clear, no overwhelming heat involved. Intimacy -to him- equals vulnerability and vulnerability equals pain. The inevitable way in which things had worked out in his life.

"But we did sleep together until yesterday."

The radio demon cannot deny you. He's already sat at the edge of your bed, taking off his coat, shoes and anything else that could make the experience any less enjoyable.

"I wish I could say you'll take this to your grave."

You grin brightly and chuckle at his silly, little remark. Your confidence has been restored to an extent after he made it clear that he does concern himself with your wellbeing.

"But why do you not like being touched? Physical contact is a form of affection."

"Or a form of punishment, of intimidation, domination and... many other vile things my dear..." His voice is too low for your liking as he says that. You don't know what burdens Alastor's shoulders, but it can't be good. And I'm not even referring to his own cruelty and the pain he has inflicted on others. Maybe his opinion of physical contact is connected to the endless scars on his body.

"Oh well whatevs Al. I just want my cuddles."

The way his ears are pulled back and he looks at you almost like he's a shy and innocent boy makes your heart bit faster. At least there's no velvet rubbing off his antlers this time.

Alastor is extremely gentle and cautious in the way he handles you now. He lays down on his back and you use his chest as a pillow. It's a cozy place. His chest. He has some fluff there, just like Angel Dust, but unlike the former he hides it under layers of clothing and keeps it unstyled. Still, it's undoubtedly soft and fuzzy and you like to sink your hand in it or swirl the soft hairs around your fingertips. The radio demon isn't complaining as one might expect, it's soothing to have someone touch his body in a non-hostile manner. It's refreshing to have someone appreciate his body as it is.

Would you also appreciate it if you saw him as he once was?

His father hadn't. He could handle the child of a mixed marriage, but Alastor wasn't just mixed, but also looked the part and according to the racist beliefs of his father in the 1900's that was a bad thing.

As you're nuzzling against his long and elegant neck, your friend's mind wanders. You lived during the 90's. What would it have been like if he had also lived during that period? Everything would have been different. The town he grew up in, his relationship with his parents, his career as a radio host and a serial killer.

"Did you know that my hair is naturally curly?"

Your ears perk up at that and Alastor gently takes hold of them and pulls at them from the root, just slightly.

"That feels nice..."

"Oh I know."

"What were you saying?"

"Oh yes, my hair's curly! Since I was nothing but a tiny, adorable baby boy! ...my mother... she..." His hand lets go of your ears and you can feel the rise and fall of his chest as he takes a deep breath and lets it out in a long sigh.

There's a melancholy about him now and you feel the need to comfort him. He's opening up to you by being genuine and vulnerable. Alastor is sharing a part of who he used to be and the least you can do is listen. You resume your activities on his fluff, almost massaging the area. He seems to like it, for a moment closing his eyes and letting a sound like purring.

"Can you keep this up?"

"Sure Al."

"Merci. What was I saying...? Oh yes of course! Mama and my curly mop."

The radio effect of his voice and his arms around you make you feel like you're a kid being told a bedtime story. It's a good thing the other residents have gotten used to you and Alastor disappearing together for long periods of time. His soft chest fluff under the pads of your fingers only intensifies the feeling of being told a story while tucked in bed, warm and safe from the outside world.

"It's truly amazing how much power is given to hair in certain cultures. In my culture, dear y/n, hair texture served as an indicator of social status. My family -a wedding between a white man and a creole woman of colour... oh ho dear! It was something else back then...-

As a kid, I was always the one teased for having “weird hair”, as if it didn’t match my other facial features. When school began, my sweet mama, she... she would put my hair in locs to protect the curls. Apparently they didn't like that at school! So my father... he radio static intensifies he made my mother shave it. He claimed that if my mother and I wore our hair differently then no one would take us seriously."

You take a moment to digest this new piece information. It's true that locs enclose the natural hair and help it stay intact. It's also true that Alastor grew up in a time when it was very difficult to be of a cultural background which was different to the majority's. You choose to not comment on anything, that's not your job.

You swirl some more of his fluff around your fingertips before moving your hand to his hair.

"Well, it's not curly in the afterlife."

You feel the vibration of his chuckle through your check that is resting on his chest.

"But it is!"

Alastor lets out a satisfied sound as he presses you even tighter against him and begins rumbling about his hair care routine. He uses anti frizz oils, heat protection oils and then blow dries it. Truth is, that's just the steps you managed to actually register in your brain, because a sleepiness started overtaking you as you stayed laying in his embrace.

You're now fading between consciousness and unconsciousness. It almost feels like you're floating. Is this what Heaven is like?

Maybe it is. Maybe it is not. But you did manage to find your little oasis in Hell. And so did he.

Alastor looks down at your much smaller frame curled up against him. Your breath has slowed down and your eyes are closing. Why does it feel so warm and soft to have you close to him like this? He knows he shouldn't be letting his guard down, but he can't help it when it comes to you. The radio demon is enamoured with you.

Wanting to make the experience even cozier and dreamier for his favourite sinner, Alastor starts singing quietly. His sense of rhythm is immaculate and his jazzy tunes make you fall sound asleep in no time whatsoever.

When you wake up an hour or so later, he still hasn't moved, but he acknowledges that you're awake with a small hum.

"Oh wakey wakey my darling y/n!" had been his usual response to you waking up while he was in the rut. However, right now he appears to be much more unguarded and raw than his usual persona. You haven't even completely woken up and you're already wondering about this new side of him.

"Al? Is everything okay?"

"Oh why yes it is, but there's this thought occupying my brilliant mind..."

"Care to share it with my not so brilliant one?"

You expected him to laugh or even chuckle but Alastor goes straight to the point. "All this... making love and we still haven't kissed. Not really."

Kissing him would mean that you actually view him romantically and that whatever "friends with benefits" situation you had going on will get destroyed. That's not a bad thing though. Despite your initial fears of your fellow deer demon being too emotionally unavailable and only needing you to calm down the torment of his lust, a kiss wouldn't hurt. Kisses are good.

"We can change that y'know."

You make the first step by leaning towards him, basically giving him the green light that you're consenting to this. Alastor notices it and loses no time, pressing his lips against yours while wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close into another embrace. He smiles widely as you kiss, his head tilting slightly as he runs his fingers through your hair. After a few seconds pass, he pulls his head back, slowly breaking the kiss as he looks into your eyes with a broad smile on his face.

"Aren't you delightful?!" and he dives back in.

Alastor's second kiss with you is firm and passionate, but not overly aggressive. His lips are very warm and he seems to enjoy the intimacy of taking his time to explore your mouth. As the kiss progresses, he gradually increases the pressure of his lips on yours. His arms wrap around your waist and his tongue slowly wanders further into the welcoming heat of your mouth.

Once again -just like when it came to sex- you have come to the conclusion that Alastor isn't that experienced, but some raw power, an instinct if you will, provides him with the ability to do all the right moves at the right time.

And then you just break character. You burst into laughter. His large and pointed ears twitch at that change of pace.

"When I thought I was doing a good job-"

"Oh no, that's not it at all. I'm just happy." You're giddy and so is he.

Maybe not needing you but actually wanting you isn't the worst case scenario.

To be continued.

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[cl6teen]

GQ COUPLES QUIZ ⍟ CL16

a GQ interview featuring the paddock’s favourite couple

mature/crude language and jokes, fluff, sexual/suggestive innuendos but not a lot, inaccurate tellings of the 2023 season, a lot of questions/inspo taken from the actual couples quizzes on GQ’s yt (rosalia and rauw) reblogs/interactions always appreciated !!

cl6teen 2023. do not copy/repost any of my works/ideas pls!

charles: i’m camera shy so maybe you should start!

y/n: you’re literally the least camera shy person i know, charles.

he laughs and readjusts himself in the wooden chair, placing his hands on the armrests to get comfortable just before speaking.

y/n: get on with it.

charles: hello, i’m charles leclerc, a driver for the scuderia ferrari formula one team.

y/n: and i’m y/n l/n, a model and partial social media influencer.

charles: and today we are here with GQ to do the couples quiz!

you smile, holding the stack of cards in your hands up to the camera.

y/n: i’m going to be asking charles some questions about myself and our relationship, so let’s see if he’s really the paddock’s boyfriend of the season.

charles: i am.

his face is stoic when he meets your eyes, leaving your mouth to tremble in a futile attempt to bite back a giggle. his silence doesn’t last long, laughing at the sight of you doubling over in your seat.

y/n: you’re so serious!

y/n: okay! first question of the day, cha: what is my favourite colour?

charles: come on, this is easy! it’s (fav colour), you’re wearing it now

y/n: correct! you actually bought this for me at the start of the year.

cockily, his eyes pan to the camera and he quick a quick shrug as if to say, ‘no big deal about it’, but you don’t catch it.

y/n: what is my go-to karaoke song?

charles: oh, fuck.

you laugh at the way his eyes widen, mocking his words with a deep tone.

y/n: oh. charles leclerc you should know this.

charles: nono i do, i do mate! give me a moment.

the camera zooms into his face, placing calculations across the screen as he’s searches around in his head for the answer—you just went on a karaoke date some nights before; it was in there somewhere.

charles: ah! voulez-vous by ABBA.

y/n: i should dock you half a point for taking so long, but i’m feeling generous today so i won’t.

y/n: what has been my favourite grand prix of the season so far?

charles: baku, because i won no?

y/n: australia actually—lewis’ win.

he cocks his head at you with a raised brow as if to ask if you were serious, and you rush to cover your smile with the stack of quiz cards.

y/n: i’m joking, of course it was baku!

you briefly reach for his hand.

y/n: my love’s first of many wins of the season.

charles: it’s my turn for a question now, yes?

y/n: no charles, i’m asking you questions right now! you go after i’m done.

charles: then why is it called the couples quiz, GQ! should be called the y/n quiz.

y/n: do you see how whiny he is? wait your turn.

jabbing your manicured thumb towards the monegasque, you shake your head at the camera.

y/n: next question, what is my hidden talent?

charles: but it’s hidden for a reason right? we cannot say it.

you both laugh at his words.

y/n: a hidden talent that only you know of.

charles: well then i definitely can’t say it out loud, i’d get in trouble.

he smirks boyishly, leaving you to gasp and reach over to smack his shoulder.

y/n: say something else! one that can be said.

charles: ermm, you can memorize any recipe you make once.

y/n: that’s normal though.

charles: no it’s not! it’s very weird how you know the exact measurements of everything without having to check. carlos agrees too!

you shrug and give him the point.

y/n: how did we meet?

you turn to the camera and cover your lips from his view before mouthing, ‘he better know this one’.

charles: we met at the monaco grand prix after party in 2021—lewis introduced us and you were too drunk to remember my name.

charles: you didn’t think i forgot, did you?

y/n: i was hoping you forgot the drunk part.

he laughs at the small pout drawing on your face.

y/n: when and where was our first kiss?

charles: monza, 2021—i have it on this bracelet.

he holds up his wrist to show the camera. right above his forza ferrari bracelet is one that has the aforementioned date engraved on it.

y/n: isn’t he so romantic?

y/n: what’s the first thing i eat after waking up—don’t make a joke.

charles: i wasn’t going to make a joke.

dramatically, you roll your eyes at him — the smile on his face says otherwise.

charles: you have yogurt so you have something to snack on while making your actual breakfast.

charles: i’m an observant man.

y/n: my favourite thing about you. so, what have i always wanted to learn?

charles: like sports? or music?

y/n: hmm…let’s do both for two points.

charles: okay…you’ve always wanted to learn piano.

you nod your head as he counts his fingers.

y/n: correct.

charles: and…you want to learn how to play tennis

y/n: wrong! i know how to play tennis charles. i want to learn how to ski.

charles: but you never come with me on my ski trips!

y/n: you always go when i’m working babe.

he gives an apologetic look, which you return with a small smile.

y/n: this one is a bit difficult, but what is my signature scent?

charles: ah…is it one of the margiela?

y/n: i like some of the scents…but no, it is (fav perfume).

rolling his eyes, he takes your wrist to his nose to get a smell.

charles: ah! you do smell good, though.

y/n: merci, mon amour. what are the three main things that i cannot leave my house without?

charles: three things you can’t leave without?

charles: me, of course.

y/n: that’s true! but apart from you.

charles: your lipgloss, your phone, and a pair of flats. you don’t even need to tell me if i’m right, open her bag and check!

[OFF CAMERA]: he’s right.

charles: bring-bring it here!

a hand emerges past the camera to hand charles the vintage chanel bag. with a shit eating grin on his face he opens the bag towards the camera to reveal the three items listed.

charles: where are the rest of your things, my love!

he laughs at the way you snatch your bag from him.

y/n: first of all, lipgloss is meant to be retouched, and heels aren’t always comfortable.

y/n: plus, when’s i’m with him i never need anything else do i?

charles: what’s your next question?

y/n: what is my night time skin care routine?

charles: ehm…can i get the next next question?

you burst out into laughter, doubling over as you try to collect yourself.

y/n: he didn’t even try!

charles: do you know my skin care routine?

y/n: i gave you your skin care routine!

charles: it’s too complicated to remember. please, next question.

y/n: what is my—who approved these questions?

[OFF CAMERA]: our boss, please continue.

y/n: charles, what is my bra size?

charles: easy, (bra size).

silently, you stare at him in slight confusion that he paid attention to such little detail.

y/n: what is the best way to make me laugh?

charles: hearing my laugh!

y/n: that is true! specifically the one where you kind of sound like a duck.

[OFF CAMERA]: alright charles, you’ve scored eleven points.

charles: that’s a good score, no? think you can beat it?

y/n: of course!

charles inconspicuously reaches for his stack placed on the console inbetween your chairs. there’s a cute smile on his face as he shuffles through his cards.

charles: what was my first f1 win?

y/n: spa, 2019. how could i not know!

charles: that’s true! where do i want us to next travel?

y/n: you didn’t tell me this though! charles always does this thing where he surprises me with our vacation destination.

charles: ah, you’re right.

he goes to shuffle the card to the back, but you’re quick to stop him.

y/n: i can guess, but if i get it correct i get two points. is that allowed?

the both of you pause to look past the camera for a go ahead, which is given by a swift thumbs up from the crew.

y/n: i actually don’t know if you want to go here, but i do. morocco?

charles: correct.

y/n: alright guys, look out for morocco baecation photo dumps on my instagram within the next few months!

charles: next question, if i wasn’t an f1 driver, what would i be?

y/n: a tennis player? i would say a footballer but after that charity match…

charles laughs loudly at the mention of his game and the memory of his dive head first into the pitch ground.

charles: tennis player is one of them, so i’ll give the point out of the kindness of my heart.

charles: so, how many kids do i want?

y/n: you want three, but don’t mind two if i can’t handle the stress of a third child. you don’t mind the genders, but it would be nice to have a least one boy and girl in any order.

charles: you have a great memory, my love.

charles: how can you tell that i’m angry?

y/n: oh my god, it’s always written all over your face cha. you get all like this and your bros furrow so much.

you try your hand at imitating it, clenching you jaw and giving your most menacing look to the camera before showing it to charles.

charles: hey you’re pretty good at it!

y/n: i think it’s quite attractive though, i love when the cameras catch it during the grand prix.

he winks at you.

charles: what is my favourite way to spend time with you?

y/n: sex? am i allowed to say that? can you cut this part out?

charles: who has the corrupted mind now! the answer was cooking together!

you make a helpless face at your boyfriend, almost feeling embarrassed that your words are going to be stuck on youtube for all to see.

y/n: whatever.

charles: what is my favourite animal?

y/n: ah…monkeys?

charles: monkeys? monkeys!?

he leans in closer to your seat in disbelief and slight fear.

y/n: wait wait wait!

charles: i’m afraid of monkeys!

y/n: but the little baby ones are so adorable!

charles: no, absolutely not. no point for you, y/n.

he dramatically crosses his forearms to each other to make a large x at your face.

charles: what is my sign?

y/n: libra, next question.

charles: wait—i don’t even know my sign!

y/n: i was the one who told you it!! it was one of our first dates and you asked me about your birth chart!

charles raises a shocked brow towards the camera.

charles: what is my favourite colour on you?

y/n: red on race day, and then sage green or white normally.

charles: it’s lovely seeing your girlfriend in your colour, no?

charles: what is the most annoying thing that comes alongside living with you?

y/n: absolutely nothing.

charles: is that your final answer?

y/n: would it be anything else…?

you both sit and stare at one another in silence.

charles: i don’t like how majority of our bed is taken up by stuffed animals.

you groan loudly at him, reaching over to swat his thigh.

charles: ow! okay, i’ll ask you one more question for redemption. what would be my ideal retirement plan?

y/n: obviously we’ll be married and hopefully with kids. you wouldn’t mind staying in monaco but you’d also like to try living in italy—but in the countryside on a large plot of land.

charles: are you sure that’s not your retirement plan?

y/n: charles leclerc.

charles: okay okay, you’re correct!

y/n: i’m pretty sure i just moped your ass in this quiz

[OFF CAMERA]: actually y/n, you only scored nine points.

charles claps obnoxiously with a wide smile on his face, to which you flip him off and brush him aside.

charles: hah! i guess that settles it!

y/n: whatever, i have you beat in lots of other things.

charles: not this though—but i believe our time is up!

turning to face the camera, you both give a curt wave.

both: thanks for watching our GQ couples quiz!

…

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charles_leclerc stays in morocco ❤️

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #f1 x reader #formula one x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x you #cl16 x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x you #cl16 #cl16 imagine

[suffersinfandom]

Controversial opinion (?): the Kraken Era wasn’t all that dark.

There’s a whole lot of meta and fic out there that portray early season two Ed as a bloodthirsty, hyperviolent monster, and when that portrayal is challenged, the rebuttal is usually along the lines of, “I’m just doing what canon did. Did you even watch the show?”

I did watch the show, and honestly? I expected Ed to be so much worse than he was! When I see people say they didn’t think Ed did enough to redeem himself or that he went past the point of no return, I just… don’t understand.

I already went into this in my way-too-long meta about Ed and abuse, but I do think it bears repeating (in a shorter post) because it seems like Ed’s actions -- more than the actions of any other character -- are scrutinized and discussed outside of the context of, y’know… a comedy about pirates. There’s tons of casual violence in Our Flag Means Death. Sometimes the violence is even funny! 

So what does Ed actually do?

As far as I can remember (I’ve only seen season two a few of times, so correct me if I’ve missed something!), we see Ed directly harm someone twice in the first two episodes: first on the wedding boat, and then when he shoots Izzy in the leg. Kind of unimpressive numbers, yeah? Tbh, I'd expect more out of a heartbroken Blackbeard.

The first instance involves Ed shooting a man during a raid. That man has a sword through his chest before Ed fires, leading me to believe that Ed’s still following his season one pattern of keeping himself a step removed from murder (technically, the sword killed that guy). We also don’t see the murder happen; the man tumbles offscreen before Ed shoots. This makes the action less brutal. If the writers wanted us to be appalled by Ed’s violence, we would’ve gotten a graphic kill (or several).

And the second instance is Izzy. Ed shoots Izzy in the leg after he suggests that the shitty atmosphere is because of Ed’s feelings for Stede. Hot take, maybe, but I don’t think that was entirely out of line -- definitely not for a pirate captain whose first mate is acting out! Ed’s feelings for Stede are not the only problem; a significant chunk of the problem is Izzy. Izzy called in the navy and led to their capture and, more importantly, Izzy bullied Ed back into the Blackbeard persona. This is what Izzy said he wanted.

We’re also told that Ed has taken more of Izzy’s toes between seasons. This isn’t cool -- bosses definitely shouldn’t be asking for their employees’ toes -- but there is a precedent for it: in season one, Ed told Stede that he used to feed people their toes for a laugh (yuck). For a laugh. This, to me, implies that it’s not a huge deal. It’s certainly not completely unexpected pirate behavior, and it seems more lenient than, like, a keelhauling or a whipping. I think both of those things would've felt way more gruesome and dark.

As far as violent actions go, that’s not a lot. Like, numerically.

Things get darker in S2E2 when Ed becomes increasingly desperate for someone, anyone, to send him to doggy heaven. He’s unhinged and working his way up to a murder-suicide before he’s stopped, but he doesn’t lay a hand on anyone. He orders Archie and Jim to fight to the death. He ignores anonymous crewmembers as they’re swept overboard in the storm. This is bad! It’s self-destructive and selfish! But violent? Monstrous? I don’t really think so.

In my opinion, the worst thing Ed does is force his crew to do violence for him -- not because it’s violence (again, they’re pirates), but because the violence hurts them. THIS is what traumatizes them! Their trauma flashbacks are scenes of them hurting others, not of Ed hurting them directly. Ed didn’t physically torture his crew (with the exception of Izzy, and that’s complicated). His crime was driving them to do one violent raid after another, killing and plundering without any joy or theatrics. Ed feels trapped in the role of Blackbeard -- the role that he’s been desperate to escape -- and, in his heartbreak, he opts to trap his crew with him. 

Yeah, Ed is messed up in the first two episodes of season two. I don’t blame the crew for almost killing him; it’s what needed to be done. I think that Jim, Archie, Frenchie, and Fang had every right to want Ed gone after Stede’s return. 

But I don’t think that Ed was a super violent monster who tortured his crew and murdered his way through his breakup. He engages in very little onscreen violence, and the person that most of his violence is focused on -- Izzy -- is the same person who told him to be violent. I think that anyone who says that Ed’s actions in the first part of season two are extremely dark is either looking at them out of context, misremembering what actually happened and just recalling the dark tone, or working with some kind of motive.

In conclusion: Ed is a man who, at his very darkest, was still operating pretty firmly within the bounds of "stuff pirates do" (but not stuff Ed has historically done, presumably).

Also look at him. Thank you.

GIF by unearthlydust

#ofmd #ofmd meta #edward teach #me typing things #idk i just keep seeing this thing? #this 'ed is irredeemable to me personally' thing #and that's fine? #hate characters if you want to? #but i don't think the kraken is all that evil #i mean i guess ed disagrees #hence the guilt and agreeing to humiliation and apologies #my poor mentally ill blorbo

[dwarvenchords]

one word prompt: kiss

This turned into a Landoscar teasing flirting kiss moment (which is really me living through Lando panicking internally about Oscar's recent bulk-up) so heres that:

Word count: 1386

No warnings!

cross posting on ao3 as well since it turned out a bit longer than i thought it would!

-----------------------------------------------------------

Lando was finding it hard to contain himself in this very moment.

Because apparently, while Lando was off galavanting through the streets of country after country throughout the winter break, someone had evidently chained Oscar to a benchpress, because…

…well, he’s huge.

But that is not supposed to be something Lando has feelings about. At least not these kinds of feelings. It wasn’t about having feelings about a man, no, but the fact that it’s Oscar. 

Like, Oscar, Oscar.

The same Oscar who he’d watched whine to Kim about every single workout last season. Who’s neck gained inches only because he had to. The Oscar who didnt really seem to be the type to bulk up at all, seemed satisfied with just having the amount he needed for racing.

And the current width of his back is definitely not needed for racing.

And don't even get Lando started on his arms.

Let’s just say that there was a reason he sat down while they were chatting on the trackside earlier today. 

Overall, Oscar was bigger, and Lando was into it.

He always had been, deep down, into Oscar, blame a guy, but this is a whole new level of just… wow.

As they sit in the little lounge in hospitality, which is unusually empty since it's only testing days, Lando is decidedly attempting to avoid looking at Oscar's body as much as possible. Because he can still see how much bigger Oscar looks through the hoodie he's wearing, for fucks sake.

"-But uh, yeah, overall, pretty boring break. Stayed at home for the time I wasn't in London for anything McLaren."

"-and evidently hit the gym." Lando adds, because apparently he can't keep his big fat mouth shut. He's internally kicking himself for being so dumb while Oscar lets out a breath of a laugh.

"I guess a bit, yeah, not much else to do." Oscar sums up. "At least there isn't when you don't travel to like six different places."

Lando lets out a snorted 'ha', before continuing.

"Well I found the time to keep up what I had but like, I'm shocked you can fit in the car with your wings right now, mate."

"Yeah? You checking me out, Norris?" Oscar raised a brow, teasingly.

And that was another change that Lando couldn't get past. The newfound confidence. Oscar has come far from the scared and shy little rookie Lando met a year ago at this point. This Oscar was confident and comfortable, and cheeky as hell.

"Don't get too full of yourself, Piastri," Lando replies, mockingly.

"I'd think you'd like it with your track record." Oscar comments, immediately following it with something Lando doesn't catch before he cuts him off.

"-What's that supposed to mean?!" Lando asks, voice pitching up in defense.

"I mean like," Oscar moves his hands around infront of himself like he's trying to find the answer in the air there, "I've seen Carlos before."

"I never should've told you about that." Lando groans, "Shut up."

That being Lando's embarrassing crush on his former teammate during their time together at McLaren, which he only admitted drunk and by omission once in a conversation about all of Lando's previous teammates.

"Nah mate, you can be into that all you want." Oscar puts his hands up like he's admitting defeat, "You liking the 'he could throw me around' look is not an issue with me."

Lando scoffs, "I did not say it like that."

"I'm pretty sure you said it exactly like that," Oscar defends, sitting up a bit straighter before learning into Lando's space, "if I remember correctly."

"Well, fine. Whatever." Lando stutters out, trying to ignore the fact that Oscar's movement meant his hoodie is now stretch taut around the width of his shoulders and chest. Lando can feel the flush of heat going over his face while he averted his gaze again, "When you're too wide to fit in the car when you're hot, don't come crying to me."

"Oh my god," Oscar laughs into the space between them, "Lando, do you, like it?"

"What? No- Shut up!" Lando stutters out. "I'm gonna go to my drivers room if you keep being an arse."

"Oh my god, you totally do, this is incredible." Oscar laughs, and Lando goes brighter red as he propels himself up off the couch. From behind him he hears the call of "No, Lando- Come back!"

"I will not tolerate this slander!" Lando jokes, flipping the bird at the air behind him as he walked towards him drivers room. Maybe Jon is around to work out the knot that Lando just created in his back.

-----

Lando did his best for the rest of the day to stick to his side of the garage, actual testing needed to get done, and he wasn't going to distract himself any more today, thank you very much.

So when he walked back to his drivers room to change and head back to his hotel, he was too exhausted to worry when his door didn't shut completely, a small sliver of space left where he could see into the hallway. To where Oscar's door also stood ajar across from him.

One second Lando was sitting down to tie his shoes, well, then he checked and got enveloped in his phone, distracting himself for he's not sure how long, and the next second he was letting out a squawk when he saw the peek of Oscar pulling his shirt off and revealing the pale expanse of his pecs and abs, freckles evident dotting the skin even from this far away.

"Are you an exhibitionist or something, mate?!" Lando shrieks, "Close your door!"

Oscar jumps, which makes all of the muscles that are now on obnoxious display tense, which is not helpful in the slightest for Lando's problem, and put's his hand on his chest like he's had the wind knocked out of himself.

"Jesus Christ, I didn't know anyone was here," He defends, walking toward's Lando's room to push the door open wider, "Why didn't you leave with everyone else?"

"I don't know, I just didn't!" Lando's voice continues to come out shrill, "Jesus mate, are you George? Go put a shirt on."

Oscar doesn't say anything in return, just stands in the doorway and laughs, deeply. "God, you can't even look at me. Lando! It's okay! I don't care or anything, you know."

"No, Oscar- Just, go!" Lando lets his eyes trail to meet Oscar's, and not look at anything else, fearing the consequences.

"Look down mate." Oscar raises his brows, challenging him. Lando shakes his head, aggressively. "Maybe I just want an objective opinion, man to man."

"You're evil, you know that?" Lando threatens.

"Come on mate, don't make me come over there." Oscar threatens in return.

Lando continued to avert his gaze, and Oscar does follow through, coming closer to Lando, pulling him up to stand from the couch. At that, Lando puts his hands up in front of himself to attempt to balance, immediately hitting Oscar's warm skin as a consequence. He finally looks down to see what he's done, and sees nothing but sweeping shadows and toned skin, everywhere. He stutters out an attempt at a sentence, his hands sliding down towards his sides, just lightly grazing the skin of Oscar's stomach as he does, before he looks back up into his teammates eyes.

"So?" Oscar asks, a teasing brow lifted at Lando.

And Lando smashes their mouths together before he can stop himself, his hands coming up to cradle the sides of Oscar's face. The other boy meets his force with matched vigor, pushing further into Lando's space so their fronts are pressed together.

When they break apart, the usual pink of Oscar's mouth is a bit more flushed than before, and Lando can see a slight pull of blood from where he may have caught Oscar's lip a bit too tightly between his teeth. Oscar does nothing but look at him, chuckle a bit, and turn around, Lando's eyes sweeping the expanses of the revealed skin, trying to commit it to memory before it disappeared.

"I'll take that as a positive, then." Oscar jokes, pointing a finger into the air infront of himself, before slipping back into his room and shutting the door fully.

#f1 #formula 1 #lando norris #oscar piastri #fanfic #writing #my writing #landoscar #twinklaren #mctwinks #op81 #ln4 #writing prompt #one word prompt #prompt fill

[lovingmidnight]

roommate

Jude Bellingham Fluff

a/n : dont rlly like this lmfao 💀little long but😭

I was always known to be a cold girl by others. got that intimidating look by the first glance, or so like everyone has told me. I didn't really mind these comment at first but it has really got to me for a while now. I've always been a nice girl who tried to give back whenever and however I could, but no one could see that about me. no one but my friend who was the classmate who sat next to me in school. Jude transferred to my school not long till graduation, so we spent a lot of time talking and taking classes together. he always sucked at english and geography which happened to be my strong suit, so I tutored him after classes in the school garden, but when it came to P.E, he bullied the shit out of the way I ran to the point ran slow as a turtle for a hot minute. he talked shit about my football skills, which I couldnt argue to - he indeed is a good player, at least compared to me.

even though he was a pain in the ass, he still was my only real friend in school. no one else tried to come up to me to say hi, nobody except jude, who out of 14 empty seats in the classroom, chose the empty seat next to mine in the back of the class. we soon drifted away from each others contact after graduation which left a lingering feeling in me, but not that I thought of that often. that was until the last 3 months, that he offered me to be his dorm mate, just around the season start. he explained how everyone in the england team shared bedrooms with eachother as jude was left with an empty room, and knowing his trashy style from the senior year, trashy furniture too.

the random phone call threw me off at first, but then when i heard him whining to have a roommate I finally agreed to stay for a little, just enough for the championship to be over. on today - it has come the day of the move in.

- "hello?" judes voice muffled as I picked the phone up

-"yeah what." I mumbled

"woah there, just wanna know if your all packed and ready to go."

-"i am, but you better get up here and help me with these heavy luggage."

"look out the window" he smirked

this dork has still remembered my address.

I turn around facing the window, the sight of him leaning in front of the car with a broad smile on his face, and an awkward wave.

-"oh shit-" I whisper under my breath as I could even close an eye, he dissapeared in pain sight only to hear a doorbell on my front door.

"come in." I say, opening the entrance as he unexpectedly grasps on to me, hugging my last breath away. it was awkward at first but it definitely felt good since I've hadn't had a long hug like that in a hot minute.

-"what was that for..." I joke waiting for his usual goofy response

"just missed you." he says calmly, coming and grabbing my luggage that was laying beside me

-"wait those are heavy-"

"I got it." he looked over his shoulder as he went down the stairs to his car.

taken back by the interaction, I tried to keep calm and went to the car, opening the passenger seat as a hand weighted on my shoulder, pulling the handle himself and leading me inside

-"wow, what a gentleman" I smirk, looking up at his tall figure as he chuckled lightly closing the door.

he kept quiet for some reason, which made me awkward but I just calmed my self down and took the jokes down a notch.

-"so... is it far..?" I ask, turning my head to him

-"no, not really." he looks back, making eye contact for a split second soon before focusing back on the road.

silence lingered for a little, looking out the window, didnt notice it at first.

"so...how have you been?" he asks, looking to the side to check on me since I was being quiet. "oh nothing much.. just been enjoying the break I have from college right now, it's been a lot you know."

"you know I didnt go to college y/n" he chuckles " but I get how tiring that would be for you. but you got it, you're a smart girl." he reached over to tap my head.

that moment, something inside me tensed, I don't know why or how but I pushed it away right away.

about 15 minutes later, almost fast asleep, jude pulled to the driveway, unbuckeling his seatbelt, soon realizing me laying still "y/n?" he uttered, shaking my shoulder lightly. as a deep sleeper I ignored it, but minutes later I woke up to judes face near mine, waving his hand over my eyes. his smiling face as he saw me wake up made me feel comforted as his soft voice didnt feel so bad even when I fully despise waking up. "do you want me to carry you or something?" he smiled "no I'm awake." I mumble rubbing my eyes.

jude took a look and started laughing hysterically

"what??, is there something on my face??" I whined

"did you forget you were wearing makeup? your eyes are fully blacked out" he wheezed

"WHAT" I immediately wake up and sit up straight, pulling down the car mirror, to see my eyes completely normal.

"jude. fucking. bellingham. I'm going to kill you." I growl as he laughed uncontrollably

"I knew it would be the only thing to get you up!"

to be honest it my fault, why did I trust him?! I didnt even wear make up today.

fast forward to evening, jude has helped me set up my stuff in our bedroom. everything has started to tidy up, ...except for judes clothes laying everywhere. but I tried to ignore that since I knew I was just a raging perfectionist. I got ready for bed, I quickly finished my skincare routine and walked out the connected bathroom in the room to the sight of jude laying down on the bed watching YouTube videos

"so when are you going to bring out a mattress" I ask casually

-"a mattress?" he asked

"yeah...? do you think I'm gonna sleep on the floor?"

"you're gonna sleep with me.." jude said casually

"PFFFTT" I cackled "great joke judie" I laughed nervously only to look to his serious confused face

"look, my teammates thought I wasnt gonna have a roommate so they gave me the room with one bed."

"well fuck." I mumble, closing my eyes in regret to why I agreed to do this.

"if it bothers you that much, I'll sleep on the floor." he sighs, looking back down at his phone

he always had that puppy voice that made you feel bad everytime you didn't agree so I had no other choice.

"alright fuck it. I'm not gonna sleep on the floor so might as well." I sighed, walking up to the bed with judes smug smiling face.

"schooch over boy." i laid inside the warm sheets which felt heavenly, soon after jude joined in too as it got pretty awkward fast. I tried to flip over, but he did aswell causing him to hug me from behind

"ew dont do that." I whisper in the dark

"its tight here I cant help it" he shout whispered back

"well should've thought of this earlier" I growled back through my breath.

soon enough, I find myself wide awake next to jude who was fast asleep. his legs tangled up with mine as his head rested on my shoulder, and if I was 100% honest, it made me feel safe. it made me feel comforted and warm. I tried to push away these feelings but I soon got the hint. it was close to 3 am when I sat up straight and realized,

"oh my god, I'm in love with jude."

..It all was real. I couldnt pretend anymore like I didn't flinch at every touch of him, that everytime he spoke it didn't send spirals down my stomach. It meant something.

I looked over to my shoulder to the sight of judes face, fully knocked out. I guess hes been practicing hard lately, it is world cup season after all. it made me smile but it also made me guilty. what if he doesnt feel the same? what if he sees me only platonically? it all terrified me.

I tried to shut myself out and laid down, jude immediately grasping onto me and nuzzling into my arms. I guess he was a deep sleeper but he really liked cuddling. the feeling of guilt stuck to me till the next morning where I spent the day being quiet.

waking up to jude already outside training, I went out to the kitchen to grab a bite, greeted with a plate of breakfast, including eggs with bacon and bagels - my favorite. I smiled beginning to sit down and eat. not long after I finished, getting up the chair to go out to the balcony, where jude practiced shooting in the field. I awkwardly waved to him. as he noticed me his face lit up, waving back like a happy dog. he signed me to come down to pitch, at first I declined since it was cold, I was only wearing a big t-shirt, with small shorts underneath, which looked barely noticable. I hesitated at first but soon accepted cause, fuck it, I got nothing to do anyway. and I modt certainly dont want to be there when his teammates come out.

I ran downstairs to the back door, which lead to a private field where jude was practicing.

"hey, you should've brought a jacket, it's cold here."

"I'm fine." I respond rather coldly

he looked at me with a face that made me feel guilty even more. "so,where are your teammates?" I make small talk "they're yet to arrive here." he responded, hitting the ball powerfully, which made me flinch a little.

"so... how do you guys hang out when you're here?" jude sat down the field, wiling his forehead with his arm

"we usually go to clubs, I mean they force me to go to clubs. you'd be surprised how many girls recognize us there." he smiles

"oh so you're getting some girls?" I stand in front of him

"I mean I just dont accept them." he says, looking up at me

"why not? arent you looking for a girlfriend?" I say, hoping for an answer that wouldn't keep me up at night

"I am, just I'm looking for a right one for me." he said, continuing his glance over me.

"you got a lot of options then from your club girls" I laugh but more like scoff

"well.." he hesitates, knowing he does.

"well I'm gonna go know." I say, making myself almost blow cover.

"why?"

"oh i dont know, just got cold maybe, i mean, I am wearing almost only a tshirt." I mumble trying to find an excuse.

"that's mine by the way." he smiles looking at his graphic tee was wearing.

"oh." I look down, recognizing the t-shirt that jude wore in high school, where he spent the whole night in my room while i was tutoring him for an upcoming english exam. that's why I didnt remember buying this...

"here-" I tugged on the bottom of the shirt almost pulling it up only to realize i wasnt wearing anything underneath. jude stood there awkwardly as I almost stripped infront of him,

"uhm. I'll go change then and give it to you later." I say awkwardly turning around

"no keep it. it looks better on you anyway." he yelled as I got closer to the door.

the rest of the day I kept quiet as well, until it came to dinner time, where his whole team was going to be there as well. I took a shower and dressed up nicely to find jude sitting outside the room with a white button up and black pants. that sighting almost sent me to a mental hospital but I kept casual, keeping on my cover.

"ready?" he says before turning around as he paused, analyzing my dress quietly

"yes." I answer trying to ignore him literally checking my outfit out.

"you look great." he mumbled shyly.

"thanks." I say coldly, trying not to scream my lungs out.

we sat in the car, soon arriving at the restaurant. his teammates already sitting down waiting for him as we walked in, whispering and giggling being heard.

"hey guys." jude sat down casually. "this is y/n, I finally got her to be my roommate." he smiled glancing over me.

"hey guys. it's a pleasure to be here." I say shyly

"welcome, it's a pleasure to have you here." foden put his hand out for a shake. jude glared over him as he shook my hand, I suspected him being mad but I pushed it away, thinking it was just my delusions.

we spent the rest of the evening chatting and laughing with the team which was a lot of fun. we got up, ready to leave.

"that was fun." he said

"yeah." I say dryly, trying to keep character once again.

"y/n, what's wrong?" he says, making me caught off guard.

"what do you mean?" I answer

"why are you being different, sort of cold with me?" he asks as I feel my throat tightening

"I'm not trying to do that.." i say holding back my tears from forming.

"did I do something? I'm sorry if I did anything that makes you unco-"

"you didn't do anything jude! I'm the problem for growing a fucking crush on you now I can't escape you. I know you don't feel the same way and you don't have to explain anything to me cause I know you have someone on your mind but-"

"what...?" he cuts me off "you think I like someone? who isnt you??

- y/n I've been trying to make it obvious by day one that i liked you. I chose the seat next to you in high school where I would spend years in. I always had a teacher in english before you offered me to be my tutor, I dropped her the next day. I always wrote little hearts next to your name in my contacts. and do you think that I couldn't live alone in my dorm? i just wanted you to be with me too and took the first excuse i could get. y/n I've been in love with you since the start of everything. it didn't go a day when you wouldn't cross my mind." he says.

that's when a stone fell off my chest. tears glazed over my eyes as I started whimpering in front of him. jude came near me and wrapped his arms around me.

"I love you, y/n. I've always had." he whispers holding me tightly.

"I love you more." I cry, holding him tighter

safe to say, I was no more awkward to sleep warmly in his arms.

#jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagines #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham #football fanfic #fanfic #fluff #football #fiction #footballer x reader #footballer imagine #headcanons #oneshots #football imagine #imagines

[ghostingghostingghosted]

Lyons and Tigers and Bears (and Gator too) Oh My!

So I've been a Fargo viewer since S2 and have followed each season relatively closely (except most of S4). Noah Hawley is a sucker for hidden messages and meanings, as well as using symbolism derived from inspiration, such as - as shown in S4 - Alice in Wonderland. Hawley symbolically uses Alice in Wonderland in S5 as much as S4, but with a heavier focus on the dangers - "Lions and Tigers and Bears, oh my!" Here is an analysis of how some character behaviors entwine with their representative animal's instinct.

SPOILS BEWARE AHEAD

CASE STUDY #1 - WOMEN REPRESENTING LIONESSES

Everyone should know that a group of lions is called a pride. Within a pride, there are multiple lionesses, and one or two male lions which usually have a monopoly on these lionesses. The male lions exploit these lionesses as multiple mates and depend on them for food typically. Mating aspects aside, the group of lionesses are the ones who hunt prey for the pride. Male lions can also hunt for themselves, but I digress with the following statement: when the lionesses are successful in the hunt, they have to eat their share quickly before the male lions come and take the rest of the meat. The male lions have the purpose of protecting the pride from other hostile, wandering male lions, so they're not completely useless.

But that's not the point of this post.

Lorriane Lyons and Indira Olmstead, in my humble opinion, show two sides of a lioness. Their husbands, respectively, represent the male lions and their exploitation of the women's work.

Lorraine Lyons represents the strength, determination, and intelligence of a lioness. I mean, come on! Lyons = lions. Did I just blow your mind with that connection?

Lorraine Lyons has a husband, Mr Lyons. As far as I remember, we don't see him until episode 6 when he's visiting his son, Wayne, at the hospital. Did we even need to know Mr Lyons existed? In my humble opinion: No.

(Tinfoil hat: I thought Danish Graves and Lorraine had something going on, and Graves was Wayne's dad. Secret love affair or whatever.)

Mr Lyons serves no purpose than emphasizing just how much Lorraine works for her, and his, "food." She runs a multi-billion company as a debt collector (or whatever the professional term is). She looks flawless. She has zero time for bullshit. Can't you see she's busy? If it weren't for her, her husband wouldn't have his train collection we later see in the same episode (6). Although she acts like her family is a burden to her, we see in some moments of her immense love for her son: such as her over protectiveness of him and coldness towards the outsider Dorothy, and her love towards her granddaughter, Scotty. Again, in episode 6, we see a brief moment of her smiling when Scotty hugs her father, until she puts back on the facade of HBIC when she speaks with Olmstead. So far, we don't see how she interacts with her husband, which can stand for as its own evidence. Lorraine's scenes with her family and professional life show that they wouldn't be who they are today without her (wo)man power. Another interesting thing to note about Lorraine and her behavior as a lioness is how, even though she doesn't like Dorothy, she still considers her as part of the pride as she's the mother of her granddaughter and her son loves Dorothy. As the idea goes, you're as strong as the weakest link, and Lorraine knows she's better off protected with Dorothy on her side than trying to get rid of her, especially as the season goes on.

(Note: Lorraine had Dorothy committed. Okay, I get that. She still hates Dorothy and wants her gone. However, Lorraine plays the sibling game in that she can bash and ruin Dorothy all she wants - as long as SHE IS THE ONLY ONE DOING IT. When Roy Tillman came around sniffing for Dorothy, she refused to even entertain his wild ideas about responsibility and freedom, and even admitted to keeping Dorothy close because of her being the mother of her grandchild and the wife of her son. She kicked Roy Tillman's ass to the curb with a, "I don't like her, but she's a Lyon now, and you're a dipshit with a 'dead' wife." Rant over.)

Another side note: Regarding Wayne, Lorraine only helps him out in extreme cases of emergency. When he suffers the head injury from electric shock, she makes sure he has the best care and best hospital room. Anything outside of emergencies, he's on his own. While he's not the strong lion we typically picture, Wayne is a lion in his own right. Male lions typically leave the pride when they come of mating age and join another pride of unrelated kin females. Here, Wayne made his own pride with Dorothy and, later, Scotty. By the way, lion prides usually consist of mother-daughter kinship, with a few outsider females and one or two male lions. Wayne still has a long way to go, but we do see him protect Dorothy and Scotty in his own way, such lying for her to the police about her kidnapping, helping her against Gator and his accomplices, etc.

Moving onto Indira Olmstead, she represents the other side of a lioness, which is the exploitation. I won't be nice: her husband is the biggest piece of shit. Even though it would be assault, I wanted her to throw her scalding hot coffee in his fucking face when he went on a tirade about wanting a real wife. Well guess what, fuck face? She wants a real husband. Either go get a job or suck your wife's dick in appreciation. Ya know?

Her piece of shit husband wastes what little money they have on worthless dreams that don't go anywhere. At one point, he wanted to be a famous drummer. Now he wants to make it big at pro golf. He sucks ass. Hard. But that would be a compliment to him. The biggest point of his exploitation is complaining about how Olmstead isn't a wife while eating the food she puts on the table with her income. He doesn't help hunt aka get a job. He doesn't support her. I have a feeling that if Olmstead gets into trouble where her physical being is at risk, he'd run away! Fuck him! Also, he's no doubt cheating on her. Hope he dies. Or gets his dick cut off. One of the two.

CASE STUDY #2 - DOROTHY AS A TIGER

Dorothy Lyons may have taken on her second husband's surname, but she is far from a lion. Several times throughout the season, Munch, and even the narrator in a special episode, calls her as a tiger; in the episode with the narrator, she describes her behavior as the behavior of a tiger. And she is a tiger.

Unlike lions, tigers are not social cats. They are solitary except with mother-cub relationships up to a certain point. We have seen how exceptional Dorothy is at defending herself, especially when she is alone. A pride needs a male lion or two to protect the pride from hostile male lion outsiders. A tiger doesn't have the protection of a pride or pack against the forces of other hostile animals of the same or different species. Dorothy fought off two kidnappers, effectively killing one and wounding the other. She fucks up Gator's accomplices on Halloween through a series of traps and tricks. Later on, she puts up a good fight against the male nurses ready to take her away to the hospital. She outsmarts the FBI detectives. She continually outsmarts Roy Tillman and Gator.

While Dorothy, in her own way, loves her husband, I believe she used him and his family's wealth as a cover at the beginning of their relationship, but only for that extra layer of protection. Later on, she probably developed feelings similar to that of a non-sexual relationship, relying on him as a closely dear friend whom she can trust to protect her and especially their daughter when she isn't around. Anyway, she is cautious because she knows she can only rely on a select handful of people - if that. She goes at life like it's her vs the world, and rightfully so considering Roy's abuse of her during their marriage. Telling of this is how she springs into action when the PTA (?) meeting in E1 descends into chaos and she pulls out a taser on an unsuspecting cop.

CASE STUDY #3 - OLE MUNCH AS A BEAR

I love this character so much, and it's such a shame that everyone is (rightfully so) thirsting over Gator. We get it: pathetic boy with daddy issues and a middle schooler boy personality is cute and all, but when will people wake up and take on the may-be-may-not-be a sin eater from 1522, who is nice to old women, a killer of idiots, and how takes his jobs deadly seriously?

(Don't get me wrong, I like Gator as much as the next person, but everyone is sleeping on the King of the season imo.)

Anyway, I propose that Ole Munch represents a bear. Bears are the king of the forest. They can eat mostly everything, from nuts and berries to full on meat. They hibernate for some months out of the entire year. They can fuck up a full sized moose.

Munch's backstory revolves around starvation: starving so much that eating a deceased's sins is nothing compared to a few gold coins, a loaf of bread, and a goblet of wine - if we take that 1522 flashback as truth, or some part of the truth. Munch can also fuck someone's shit up: exhibit a): the two ranch hands ready to kill him at the Tillman's ranch and breaking Gator's arm; exhibit b): Gator's partner; exhibit c): the old woman's loser son in the latest episode.

When I think of a bear, I think of a creature motivated by food and a lot of it, especially male bears. Bears are one of the higher mammals on the food chain; the only danger to a bear is another bear - or maybe a big cat. Bears wander the forest in search of food, food, food. Unless they have to assert their dominance with another bear in the area, they don't have to worry about costly fights. (If you can stomach it, watch a YouTube video of bears fighting. It's crazy.)

In Munch's early scenes, we see him motivated primarily by money, or in essence, the means to buy food. He only goes out of his way to kidnap Dorothy because Roy Tillman promises him payment, and tries to re-kidnap her by any means, even when she has the upper-hand at the gas station. When he doesn't get paid by Roy, he then sets his sights on fucking with Roy and Gator.

Silent and deadly, but don't fuck with this guy - or shall I say, don't poke the bear. Nothing with Munch is nothing personal. I'd go as far to say him messing with Roy and Gator aren't for personal reasons. Gator keeps insulting Munch right to his face, but he doesn't react at all to it. He only reacts when he doesn't get his payment. Hell, I have a feeling that if Roy tried to kill him after paying him, Munch might not have reacted then, either. He probably would have gotten the hell out of Dodge in search of another job. It's just not worth it when a man's (or bear's) livelihood is at stake as long as food is readily available somewhere else.

Also, Munch always wear brown clothes. The latest is the fur-line neck of a brown coat he took from the old woman. Make of it what you will.

Further, I consider Munch a bear because he "hibernates" like one. When he isn't out causing chaos for Roy and Gator Tillman, he goes back to his place of shelter (aka the old woman's house)and rests there with a cigarette. I don't bother to do the math, but I bet you that half of Munch's time on screen focuses on his "hibernation" at this dark, cave-like home.

RANDOM THOUGHT ON GATOR

Is it just me, but why would Roy name his son Gator? So far, no one calls him by any other name but Gator, so we have to assume Gator is his legal name. Which, imo, is a stupid name.

(Do you think his dad named him after Gatorade? lol)

However, looking deeper, we have menacing characters taking on animal representatives: Lorraine and Indira as lionesses, Dorothy as a tiger, Munch possibly as a bear. Where does (a) Gator in snowy Fargo (or wherever the fuck) fit?

That's the thing: he doesn't fit.

Alligators, as said by the National Zoo website (googled) live in freshwater, slow-moving rivers, and also in swamps, marshes and lakes. Aka, Florida, North Carolina, and Texas. Fargo is the exact opposite of that description: cold, cold, snowy, and cold.

Therefore, Gator Tillman is metaphorically a "fish" out of water. He doesn't belong in this strange environment his father inhabits. He doesn't belong to Roy's idea of what a man should be. Gator doesn't know how to be himself, but he needs to survive and adapt because he's seen what happens when someone doesn't, so he tries to take on the personality of his father - but with heavy failures and setbacks. He isn't built to be like Roy. That's why, in my humble opinion, Gator has that strange name. It's showing how much he, a "Gator", doesn't fit the environment his father created. In the latest episode, Dorothy even mentions this. She says she still sees good in him, but he still wants to be Roy. This implies that a person cannot be Roy and still have goodness in them. The two shalt never intertwine. I'm pretty sure Gator's bio on the Fargo website says something similar to him wanting to become his father, but it never working out in his favor. He wants to be a "winner" or the fittest in survival. But he is struggling hard, and his father is quickly losing patience with him.

Rant over.

Note: Other than the Fargo tv series + movie, as well as some Reddit/Tumblr media consumption, I do not know anything about Noah Hawley or his writing style, inspiration, etc. Also, I did not do much, if any, research on the animals studied here. Everything comes from minimal knowledge. This is purely an opinion.

PS: It's come to my attention that Lyon is not spelled Lyons with an 's' at the end, but simply Lyon. I'm too lazy to fix this issue. Sorry. Also, sorry if there's any incoherent sentences and/or grammar issues. I needed to get this out of my system.

I would also like to say that a lot of my information, ideas, and opinions come from TV Tropes (website) where they have a lot of insightful facts about characters and their personalities, among other things. I suggest checking them out!

#fargo fx #fargo season 5 #fargo s5 #Dorothy Lyon #lorraine lyon #indira olmstead #ole munch #fargo spoilers #roy tillman #gator tillman

[temperancecain]

As per the results of my recent pole, here's the first chapter of my Torchwood fic. (Warning for use of language, mentions of PTSD and spoilers for the end of Doctor Who Season Three and Torchwood Season 2. None of the recognizable characters belong to me and this was written purely for fun.)

I Found Love When It Wasn't Supposed To Be

Chapter One: Fell Down a Rabbit Hole

"You owe me ten quid."

"I do not."

"You do," Owen insisted, leaning back in his swivel chair, drink stirrer caught between his teeth giving his smile a childish edge. "Last week, down the pub, I said there was no way Jack was ever gonna tell us what really happened while he was gone, and look? He's as tight lipped as a fucking teenager, that one. And just as bloody mouthy, thinkin' he can order us around like…like-"

"Like employees?" Toshiko helpfully chimed in, eyes shining with warring shades of amusement and consternation behind the purple frames of her glasses. "He is the boss, Owen. Just because Gwen took over for a little while doesn't mean that it's not Jack's name on the door anymore. Well, if we even had a door that is, rather than just a big cog thing set into some concrete…My point is, he's been through a lot, and it's not like any of us like to be exactly forthcoming about our own traumas, is it? He just needs time to adjust, is all. To remember that he's home, and has people here for him."

Owen let out a mocking scoff. "Time, right. Something an immortal has in infinite supply and us mere humans have diddly squat of. It'll be a miracle if we get anything out of him before we're in the Torchwood Care Home, eating jello out of plastic cups and arguing over Countdown."

"Don't you do that anyway?" Ianto asked, coming up behind them in that silent way of his. "I take it you're talking about Jack behind his back?"

The doctor had the decency to look chagrined, hands raised in the universal sign of supplication. "Ianto, mate, you know I didn't mean anything by-"

Letting out a heavy sigh, the young agent pulled out a stool, plopping it down in the empty space between their two desks. "I agree with you, completely. You know he took me to dinner last week, just like he promised, and every time I tried to get something out of him, he changed the bloody subject! To me, of all things! Like I wanna talk about what movies I've seen or the new lasagna recipe I got from Gwen when he's been gone for months on end and then turns up right out of the bloody blue! I thought-I thought things would be different," Ianto admitted, so quiet they could barely hear it. "He seemed like he might have actually…"

"Changed?" Toshiko said, not unkindly. "He did seem to have a renewed sense of…something when he came back, all grand speeches and bold proclamations. And now, it's just back to work as usual. That's got to be confusing, most of all for you given your…thing."

"I don't even know if we have a thing. Jack's not exactly one to put labels on things. He's far too…casual for that. But it's really bloody irritating and I just…realized we've spent the past two hundred and seventy nine seconds talking about my love life, which is weird." He turned to Owen. "Why haven't you thrown a pencil at me or something like you normally would?"

"How little you think of me. Gee, Ianto, I'm so hurt." Going back to his notes for a few seconds, he eventually snapped his book shut and kicked his feet up onto his desk. "I dunno, mate. Just trying to be a little more…sensitive, to your situation. We've all had our shovelfuls of shit this last year and…after Diane, guess I know where you're coming from a little more, is all. But don't expect it to become a regular thing, yeah? There's only so much talk about feelings a bloke can take."

Ianto offered him a half smile. "Don't I know it." Glancing down at his watch, the Welshman squinted his eyes, asking them curiously, "Wasn't Gwen supposed to be back with takeaway by now?" when the door to the Hub ground open, the agent in question sauntering across the walkway, plastic bags held aloft in triumph.

"I am. Amazing. Seriously. You lot should name a holiday after me after what I did to get all this," Gwen declared, depositing the various containers on their worn coffee table. "Stood in line for twenty five minutes I did, then when I realized they'd forgotten the egg rolls, I went back and spent another ten minutes in there waiting."

"A real hero," Tosh agreed fondly, abandoning her carousel of computers and making her way to the sofa, eagerly digging into a container of mu shu pork. It was almost midnight, and by most people's standards not the most conventional time to be eating fast food -or even being awake- but the Rift activity had been particularly volatile today and Jack wanted them at the ready, just in case. So it was all hands on deck, no one going home until the sun rose, then back again after a whopping three hour's worth of sleep to do it all over again.

The life of public servants, so glamorous.

Gathering around the table, Ianto began doling out napkins and cutlery and reminding people that coasters were an actual thing as the three of them chatted away. Gwen was too busy looking up at Jack's office, the single light still burning catching her attention as it shimmered against the translucent glass walls. Staggering over the amassed assembly of legs and elbows, Gwen extricated herself and climbed the stairs, knuckles knocking faintly on the glass so as not to startle their fearless leader.

"You got a hit on some Rift activity?" Jack asked abruptly, not even bothering to look up from his sheaf of paperwork.

Gwen cleared her throat, suddenly nervous. "No, um, I just got us all a spot to eat, wanted to know if you wanted anything or not."

"I'm good, thanks." Not even a flicker.

Things had been…awkward, ever since he got back. Since he'd found out about her marrying Rhys. He'd looked so happy to see her, and yet it all drained away like water down a plughole when he took sight of that diamond engagement ring. And his return, after so many agonizing and uncertain months away, had pulled all her old feelings right back up to the surface, despite how deeply she'd buried them inside herself, like driftwood being brought back up in the tide. He was Jack, and yet he was…not, and all she wanted to do was help him, but she couldn't do that if she didn't know what was wrong, if he didn't just open his mouth and bloody tell her like a normal person.

But Jack wasn't normal. He never had been, and he never would be. And maybe that was half the problem.

"Okay then. Well, you know where we are if you change your mind," she said softly before making her way back to her friends, letting herself get lost in some conversation over one of Tosh and Owen's first cases together.

***

Jack Harkness was tired. And for a man that didn't really sleep, he supposed that was kind of a given. But it was more than that. So, so much more. He'd been back for two weeks now, and yet every time he closed his eyes, he expected to be back on the Valiant when he opened them, chained up and bleeding, waiting for that automatic door to hiss open and the Master to swagger in, pointed shoes squeaking incongruously against the metallic grating of the floor. Sometimes it was a cattle prod. Sometimes he'd pump the vents full of poison and watch him choke to death. Sometimes it was just a plain old beating when he was bored or if he wasn't getting what he wanted out of the Doctor, when his 'puppet' refused to dance to its owner's drums.

Some days, he left him completely alone. And that was almost worse. The silence. The emptiness. The gnawing, aching feeling in his chest, thinking about everyone he loved in danger, not knowing whether they were alive or not. If they needed him. About Martha, out there all on her own in a world gone to hell in an intricately woven hand basket. About the Doctor, caged and powerless as no one so brave and wonderful should ever be. About Rose, stuck in some parallel universe but mercifully far away from all this.

The waiting. The waiting got to you.

He was home now. He was fine and everything had been fixed and all those people had been saved and everyone he loved was safe and it was okay, it was all good, it had all been wiped away like it never happened…but it did. And he didn't have anyone to talk to about it, no one to share in the burden of these memories. No one would understand, without having been there. What it was like. How it felt, to die over and over and over again, more times than he ever had before. He didn't want to scar anyone else with that, to scare them, so he kept quiet. Took Ianto out to dinner where the sound of the clinking silverware was too much like knives sharpening against metal. Tried not to flinch every time Gwen brushed against him in the passenger seat as she fiddled with the radio because apparently his taste in music was too 'old-timey.' Fought to keep his breathing even when the lights went out and the Hub wound down and it was just him, alone in the dark once more, an enemy of his own mind.

Jack knew what PTSD was. Had seen enough soldiers battle through it during the countless wars he'd been a part of, sometimes winning, sometimes not. But not him, never him. Jack Harkness dusted himself off, and carried on, not even stopping to let his wounds scab over, much less heal properly. Moving, forward, forward, forward. Always forward, never back, just like the Doctor.

He'd always idolized him so much. Now he'd give almost anything to be a little less like him, a little less broken, a little more whole.

He felt disconnected and irritated and on edge at every little noise and he hated it, hated it so much, because he was supposed to be better than this, was a leader and it was his job to look after everybody and he couldn't do that if he was wasting all his time on trying to hold himself together. He'd make a mistake, he'd miss something, and someone he loved would end up paying the price; he couldn't allow that. He wouldn't allow that, not again, not in a million years. Not after what happened to Gray. So he had to get over this, had to find some way to beat it, to fix himself. Even if it killed him -which was okay, since he'd just come straight back to life, like always.

But the cracks were getting more and more noticeable, the strain ever more apparent. So he tried to keep his distance, excluding himself, secluding himself in his office, behind his walls of glass and watching on as his team talked and joked and laughed without him. And it hurt, it hurt so much because that was what he'd fought so hard to get back to, and now he couldn't even be a part of it, looking in on the life he'd once had and wanted again, still wanted, always wanted.

Thankfully, the piercing wail of an alarm cut through his melancholia like a knife, allowing him to instantly slip into his designated role as effortlessly as he donned his dark wool coat. "What have we got, people?"

"A major energy disturbance, about four miles from here. Significant increases in Rift activity, almost off the charts. Jack, I've never seen readings this high," Tosh rattled off, food forgotten in her lap as her fingers flew against her keyboards, reams of text appearing on the screen, maps of Cardiff flashing with warning lights.

"Any idea what caused it?"

"We've been monitoring everything all day and there's been no unusual disturbances, no police reports with any of the telltale signs of alien activity or interference, but the earlier blips suggest that whatever it is, it's escalating, and fast."

"Then we better get a move on. Alright team, suit up. We leave in five," Jack ordered, returning to his office and taking out his holster, securing it under his coat as his mind raced through worst case scenarios. They were all piled into the SUV and tearing down the road in under three, and while the immortal marveled at their precision and efficiency, he couldn't help but feel just the tiniest twinge of jealousy that it was under Gwen's leadership that this had come about and not his. While he'd always prided himself of his military strategy, how tightly he ran the ship as it were, perhaps he had been a little too harsh in the past. Maybe they needed a more caring, considerate hand to guide them, given everything they'd been through in the past year or so. Maybe they needed Gwen.

But Jack couldn't allow himself to dwell on it as a few minutes later they were pulling up in an abandoned field, forgotten grasses growing up to their knees as they each jumped down, weapons at the ready, flashlights combating with the glow of the waning moon hanging high above in the sky. Man, he'd had some fun times there. Boot heels carving a swath through the tangled overgrowth, they all scanned the area, but there was no signs of any Rift activity, nothing but insects chirping and the cold autumn wind gusting through the trees like a mournful breath.

"Oh my God. Jack, look at the sky!"

There, splitting the midnight sky like a wound, was a gaping portal, trickling light like blood.

That hadn't been the moon, then. It was over a hundred feet up, golden and glistening, crackling with energy like a lightning strike, equally beautiful and deadly. Never a good combination, Jack knew from experience.

"Tosh, get me a reading!"

"I can't, the system's overloading! It's giving off too much interference."

"How is this possible?" Gwen wondered, eyes wide and panicked in her pale face, tendrils of dark hair floating like underwater seaweed as she gazed up at the giant hole in the sky. "No one can open the Rift from our side like that, not without breaking into the Hub."

"I think you just answered your own question," Owen muttered sarcastically, but it did little to cover the shock etched across his expression.

"Someone's opened the Rift from somewhere else." It was the only thing that made sense. "Question now is why."

The light above seemed to coalesce, churning and pulsing like the unpredictable swirl of a hurricane. There was very little known about Rift portals and their effects, but Jack reckoned it wasn't too good an idea for them all to be standing out in the open like this.

"Everyone, back in the car!" He ordered, tracing his way backwards, gun still pointed to the heavens. And then he heard it. A shout, pained and desperate, as angry as it was desolate.

"Poppy, I'm begging you, you can't do this!"

"Doctor, you know I have no choice!"

His whole body went cold, too many emotions shooting through him at once. Before he even realized it, Jack was sprinting across the field, batting away foliage as he ran at full speed, until he was standing right under the mouth of the portal, craning his neck back as if he could see all the way up there to wherever it led.

"Tosh, can you lock into that audio and link it up to our comms?"

"Already on it!" Their technician hollered, and seconds later, as if he were speaking directly to him, Jack heard the words, *"We can find another way!" It was a voice that the Captain didn't know but a tone that was infinitely familiar. "Please, please, just hold on! I'll pull you up, I'll save you! I promised I'd always save you!"

"And I told you not to make promises you might not be able to keep," the mystery woman answered back, softly chiding him. "The Mnemosyne will keep coming, it'll tear this whole planet apart. Thirteen billion people, each one living for two hundred years. All those memories for it to feed on, it won't be able to resist. And you…you're almost twelve hundred years old, sweethearts. So many memories, good and bad and everything, the entire spectrum of a Time Lord's existence, there's no telling if you'd even survive it. If you can't close the Rift from this side, the very least I can do is take it with me. It won't relinquish its hold on my mind, not when its already started the eradication process. So, I'm asking you, for the sake of everyone on this planet, for you to let me do this. For you to let me go."

"I can't." He sounded like he was crying; Jack had never seen him cry, except when the Master died, when he held him in his arms aboard the Valiant and realized he was all alone once again, the very last of his kind.

"Then I'm so very, very sorry for this, Doctor," the woman said, words dripping with palpable regret. "Just make sure you look after him for me, that's all I ask. I can do this, so long as I know that he'll be alright," and soon followed an indecipherable reply. Seconds later, there was a tremendous boom, a shockwave rippling out and knocking everyone off their feet, slamming them backwards into the siding of the SUV, but Jack regained his bearings almost instantly, mesmerized by the subsequent pulse of green light that lit up the sky, knitting the two sides of portal together like it had never been there at all.

"Is everyone okay?" He shouted into the ensuing silence, ears ringing slightly but seemingly no worse for wear.

"Everyone's good, Jack," Gwen called back, but even as she said the words his attention was being pulled elsewhere, to the object -no, the person- falling from the sky, the form a slash of fiery red like the blazing tail of a comet as they plummeted through the atmosphere. "Oh my God, someone's falling from that thing!"

"If they hit the earth, they'll die instantly," Owen said in that sanitized, clinical way of his, grating on the Captain's nerves harshly.

"Not if we can help it," Jack insisted firmly, hastily holstering his gun so that he could have both hands free. "Ianto, get me one of the containment units and plug it into the laptop. Owen, get out your medkit, we might need to do a little emergency surgery. Tosh, how long before they hit the ground?"

"Twenty seconds, maybe less!"

"Okay then." Striding to the SUV, Jack jumped into the backseat, hacking into the containment shell as he tried to recalibrate it back to its original settings. It was just like he'd done for Rose, all those years ago, bombs and blitzes and balloons in the sky, London on fire and an epidemic he'd never meant to start, a day that would change his life forever and set him on a course he never could have imagined.

"Come on, come on. Please work," he begged, slumping slightly when the settings finally gave way and he got to the core where he could input the new data. Seconds later, he was back in the grass, aiming the device at the descending figure, details becoming more visible as they plummeted through the atmosphere. A red coat, a stream of long brown hair. A woman. The woman. And she was wrestling with something, the shape biting and snarling as they neared the earth. A beam of blue-tinged light shot out, engulfing the two of them and suspending them mid-air.

The beam had worked, just like he thought it would. The hard part was getting them down. Whatever that creature was, it seemed unperturbed by its current state, its howls echoing gruesomely through the night and through the deserted woodland, no doubt freaking the poor creatures dwelling there the heck out.

"Can you shoot it down?" Ianto asked from beside him, his own gun gripped tightly in his hand.

"I think so. But if it keeps struggling, I could end up shooting her."

"Her?" Owen echoed disbelievingly further down the line from them.

"What, you think a guy could fill out a coat like that? Well, anyone who wasn't me, that is," Jack quipped in an effort to hide his quaking nerves. It had been a while since he had to shoot at anything besides that Blowfish last week, and the knowledge that that woman was a friend of the Doctor's and someone he obviously cared very much about made it even worse, the fear of his reaction if Jack ended up hurting her, even by accident.

But he had to try.

Planting his feet, Jack plucked the gun from Ianto's hand and pitched his voice loud enough for them to hear, "Hey, Blubberface, try picking on someone your own size."

As predicted, the creature turned its head, a row of double mouths opening up, casting a long black proboscis into view, curling around the woman's neck like a noose, presumably feeding off of her just as she'd said. Sending up a prayer, Jack lined up the shot and squeezed, two quick successive shots that rippled through the night. There was utter silence, and then a distant thud as the body hit the grass, crumpled amongst the brittle weeds. He could just make out the woman's face, pale and pretty in the moonlight, still hanging like a ghostly apparition in the sky, an angel come to bestow knowledge or bad tidings depending on the day.

"Don't worry, we're going to get you down, alright? Just stay calm," Jack said to her, wordlessly passing Ianto back his gun and ordering Owen and Tosh after the unknown body. "I'm going to release the beam, but don't worry, I'll catch you, okay? I promise."

He saw her nod vaguely, and so he pressed the button, letting her go. She didn't scream, and that was almost worse, a soundless descent as she fell and fell and fell, until she collapsed into his awaiting arms, so hard his muscles shook with strain. Her eyes flew open, glassed over and hazy, but not so much that Jack couldn't make out their distinctive hazel colour.

"Thank you for catching me, Captain Harkness, Sir," the woman thanked him before she went limp, seemingly unconscious.

Thank you so much for reading!! I hope you enjoyed it.

All my love, Temperance Cain.

#torchwood #fanfiction #fanfic #captain jack harkness #ianto jones #toshiko sato #gwen cooper #owen harper #oc character #fanfic writing

[sapphic-woes]

For spooky season maybe cause like you wrote abby last time, werewolf abby and you are her mate (Really like the scenario with soulmate shit oops) and idk maybe your daily life with her or some other things like how she met you and knew you were hers? idk my brains fried rn soooo yeah here ya go, have fun and I hope you have an awesome day ❤️

🐺

Ok these days I'm so busy I rlly can only do hcs so:

🐺Werewolf Abby🐺

Honestly I imagine this happening because you just moved into a rural-ish town as a doctor.

You wanted to make a real difference and help others. You're like, working in a rundown hospital and one of the only people who can do simple surgeries there.

Anyways, the town itself has a big werewolf population, which Abby is a part of ofc

You run into her because let's say Manny gets hurt fighting another werewolf from a diff clan, and they just say he was attacked by an animal and take him to your hospital .

She immediately is tongue tied, can't speak. Everyone is a little confused until her wolf starts howling–and then everyone except you know she just found her mate.

I'm thinking there isn't really like. Alphas and that shit here. Just Abby is one of the top people in her clan like og Abby, so people respect her. So, it's a big deal that she's found her mate.

You notice random people are just...nicer to you. Helpful. The whole town that was pretty standoffish before is just brighter now.....

...and Abby is literally everywhere.

She pops up in the most random places. She flirts. She makes your heart jump and cheeks go red, and somehow she always notices.

Anyways, you're falling hard and fast, yet she's still so mysterious to you. She has a large family, but none of them look related, people just seem to listen to her, even if she's younger than them. She carries herself like a leader, she's so charismatic you just want to do everything she says.

Eventually, when you're working with the EMT out in the woods to get someone help, you find out why.

You're attacked by wolves...only to be saved by one much, much bigger one.

Abby is ruthless, and she rips the other wolves to shreds before shifting back into her human form. She's bloody, covered in dirt and naked–but perhaps the scariest thing of all is that she still doesn't look fully human.

She's got glowing silver eyes and fangs, nails that look like claws...and she's staring right at you.

You panic, you run–in fact, you make it pretty damn far because Abby is too worried to follow you and scare you more. But you trip, fall, and scrap your knee, and when Abby smells your blood she's immediately worried.

"It's okay, I promise, I'm not gonna hurt you babe–I could never dream of it." Abby approaches you slowly. Carefully. She knows what she must seem like to you now: a terrifying monster rather than a person...and she hates herself for it.

"D-don't, don't touch me!" You barely yell it, flinching when she takes another step towards you. Abby winces like your words are daggers in her skin, offering a sorry smile.

"I just need to bring you somewhere safe. You can't walk right? Please, y/n you know me by now. Do you really think I'd hurt the girl I've been flirting with this whole time?" She had a point, and you stayed frozen as you watched her approach, though you didn't protest anymore. You shut your eyes when she reached for you, remembering how she'd ripped those other wolves into pieces before–

And yet, when she lifted you up in her arms, she carried you as if you were made of diamonds.

She kinda disappears after that.

Abby is way too scared of scaring you off. But her being gone after being so active in your life leaves a gaping hole. You start to miss her a lot, and you realize how much you loved her stupid teasing and cocky attitude.

So when you guys do run into each other again and Abby tries to highkey run away, you don't let her.

"Wait!" You gripped the sleeve of her arm, sucking in a breath as wide blue eyes focused on you. You can't speak for a moment before you finally burst out.

"I never thanked you. I, um, I wanted to do that...for saving me, I mean..." Abby's speechless, she blinks before she hoarsely speaks.

"A-are you sure? You don't have to. I know I–what you saw was–"

"It was scary, Abby. I won't lie about that. But..." You took a step closer to her, and you swore her lips trembled, "it wasn't enough to make me scared of you. Promise. So... don't run away anymore, okay?"

For once, the Abby Anderson's face tinges pink, and she clears her throat–scratching the back of her head as she quickly nods.

"Y-yeah. Yeah. I can do that. I can definitely do that..."

#abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby x reader #tlou2 #abby headcanons #tlou2 headcanons #🐺 anon

[f1loveisland]

Friend of a friend // Daniel Ricciardo

Warnings: swearing?? Alcohol, childs, mentions of starting a family, angst, fluff, alot of time skips sorry 😔

A/N: I was listening to artic monkeys while writing this so credits to them :) also the end is kinda choppy I got lazy, might make a part two?? Also kinda short cuz I honestly hate long fanfics

I had to add this gif of danny slapping scottys ass 😂

Ever since Scotty James had gone to the Olympics you had been there for him. When Scotty went to Vancouver when he was 15 you helped him. You where a female halfpipe snowboarder from Australia and had became great friends with Scotty as you where there for him when he had the struggles of going to the Olympics at such a young age. You are so proud of how far he has come. You where only a bit older then Scotty, five years to be precise, you went to your first Olympics at 16 you knew the struggle.

In the off season Scotty would usually hold a big party and for the first time ever you managed to clear your schedule and go. Once you RSVP'd Scotty couldn't wait for you to meet some of his friends, expecially Daniel. You had heard about Daniel and had assumed he was gonna be a nice guy. The night before the party you got curious about this Daniel guy and decided to stalk his Instagram (just girly things) while you where scrolling you may or may not have developed a tiny crush on him, he was a good looking guy. His smile was contagious.

The night of the party you got all prettied up. Slightly curled hair and a beautiful dress that hugged your curves (almost better than Danny would ) perfectly. You where dressed to impress.

The taxi rolled up to your door and you left swiftly over to scottys pent house he shared with another good friend of yours, Chloe. Once Scotty had gotten with Chloe you where super happy he had finally found someone who wasn't a narcissist. You and Chloe got along so well, you where low-key proud of Scotty on such a great pull.

You knocked on Scottys door and heard a deep Australian accent yell 'ill get it' it was not scottys voice. You see Daniel open the door. You froze he looked ever more handsome in real life,

"oh hello you must be y/n I've heard some amazing things about you! I'm Daniel you can call me Danny, Dan, DR and what not," he said with his signature smile,

You smiled back, "thank you Dan,"

"let's get you inside shall we?" Dan laughed letting you past.

Scotty had let his closer friends come over a bit earlier so it was just you, Scotty, Chloe, Daniel, And another one of his friends Corey Wilson.

"wow Y/n you went all out, mate," Scotty said walking over to you,

you smiled at his compliment, "thanks, I didn't know how fancy this party was gonna be," you said looking at the others outfits,

"I'm just gonna get ready ill be back, you can chill out with Daniel and Corey," he smiled walking over the his bedroom to get changed.

You sat on the sofa next to Daniel as Corey looked busy typing on his phone,

"hey y/n, how are you going?" Daniel chirped,

"yea I'm good thanks," you smiled

"I've heard so many great things about you!" Daniel said in a comforting tone,

"same," you giggled back,

The conversation continued untill some other guests started rolling in.

The night went smoothly and it was to the point where everyone was at a degree of drunk. Scotty walked up to you,

"could you please take Daniel back to his place before he sleeps with anyone in my house,"

"of course I was about to go home anyway," you smiled at Scotty before getting Daniel.

The problem was that Scotty was drunk enough to have responsibility but past the point where he could remember that you had only just ment Daniel and didn't know where he lived. You didn't want to seem nosey so you drunkenly took Daniel to your place instead.

Once you had gotten to yours Daniel spoke up,

"is this your house?"

"yes,"

"why am I here?"

"because I don't know where you live, you can stay the night if you like,"

"ok,"

You two ended snuggled up on the couch watching a movie,

"I probably shouldn't say this now but I would love to take you on a date," Daniel spoke,

"same," you replied, "home date?"

Daniel chuckled.

You got a doona and layed it across the sofa for you and Daniel as you started watching some movies. Daniel soon patted the spot right next to him, you scooted over.

"I hope you don't mind if I just," Daniel said wrapping his arms around you.

You laid back in his embrace, you felt safe.

Day by day you and Daniel grew closer untill Daniel finally did it. You where in Japan one of many treasure troves in the world of snowboarding. And you found the Japanese grand prix was on so you made your way to the track. You spotted Daniel and waved. Daniel walked over to you and said,

"wanna come in the paddock?"

"sure," you smiled back

"come with me," he said

You got stopped but security because you didn't have a pass,

"who is this?" The man said,

"my girlfriend," Daniel replied,

The guard nods and lets you two in.

Daniel takes you to his driver's room and you sit down and look him in they eyes,

"what was that about?" You ask Daniel,

"I mean you might as well be," he laughed back,

"true," you replied,

"what?" Daniel questioned,

"if you say so," you reply hugging him, he hugs back.

Next thing you know Scotty found his way into Daniels driver room,

"uhh, did I miss something?" Scotty questioned,

"yeah," Daniel laughed,

You giggled into his chest.

You and Daniel had been dating for 6 months now, it had been amazing. You where at XGames and where on the phone to Daniel when he said,

"if you get a medal today you can move in with me,"

"bet," you giggled.

You had gotten silver that day and was over the moon, Daniel obviously first to congratulate you.

'love you baby, I'm so proud of you!' you read his text and smiled seeing his missed call, you rang you boyfriend back,

"Y/N/N GREAT JOB," Daniel said in excitement as he picked up the phone.

"thanks Danny," you smiled, "so about moving in-"

"I've already got all your clothes in a wardrobe at my house, your vitamins in the cupboard, and your framed pictures at mine, baby," Daniel said proudly,

"looks like someone was excited," you laughed.

You flew back to warm Monaco and got to Daniels house. You knocked on the front door,

"C'mere," Daniel mumbles when he opened the door to see you, he wrapped you into his arms, you enjoyed his embrace and looked up at his lips and connected them with yours. You got carried away in the taste of pure mint as his tongue slipped into your mouth. After your make out sesh, Daniel was quick to react,

"let's get inside," he stated,

You just laughed in response.

"you know what I've got for you, darling," Daniel said,

"what?" You wondered,

You stepped in to see your sister and her husband along with your two twin nephews, Arlo and Mack.

You hadn't seen your sister and her family ever since you had gotten with Daniel so it was really sweet of him to invite them over even though he had never met them before.

"aww thanks Daniel," you smiled at him walking over to your sister and her little family hugging them.

"I promised the kids they could wear your medal," Daniel laughed,

"I'm sure you did," you said showing Arlo and Mack the medal.

"this is so cute," your sister said taking a picture of the moment.

Each of the twins had a picture wearing your new medal, you where surprised how curious the two toddlers where.

Once your sister and that had left, you and Daniel had some chill time, you both loved having a chilled afternoon.

"aren't the twins so cute," Daniel said lying in bed while you unpacked you stuff, putting your bag away you then got into some comfy clothes and joined Dan in bed,

"the twins are adorable," you smiled back at him,

"we've only been dating for six months and I want to start a family with you," Daniel mentioned, you giggled at him.

"what is that supposed to mean?" Daniel asked,

"ohh you wanna guess?" You replied in a sassy tone,

"no,"

You laughed once more,

After some consideration you realised it just wasn't the time to start a family, but the child talk would go on for weeks...

#f1 drabble #f1 fanfic #snowboarder!reader x daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo

[a-court-of-moonlight-and-ire]

Hey so. its been a while. I havent had a lot of energy these past few weeks and when I did I didnt really wanna spend that energy on this bad book series, but its the weekend and its been wayyyy too long and I need to finish ACOMAF before shit starts falling out of my sieve of a brain. As always, I am motivating myself with the prospect of contuining to work on a proshot of the takarazuka production elisabeth after this, the 2014 flower troupe one specifically ^-^ or maybe I'll watch a fucked up black and white movie from the 20s thats two and a half hours long, we'll see

Today we're reading chapter 53, the precursor to The most infamous chapter 54. Im not gonna lie, I kinda forgot most of what happened last time. There was a mate reveal, Rhysand was being really pathetic which made him hot to me for the first time in about 600 pages of me knowing him, Feyre was super pissed so they sent her to the mountain cabin to cool off a bit and paint, i think thats it

is it just me or is it kinda weird that Feyre is fantasizing about green grass and flowers and flowing rivers when the NC so far has been defined by being a very wintery place. Like yeah, obviously they have seasons in the solar courts but like, theres a lot of mountains which means a lot of snow, its the most nothern court etc

And Feyre didnt like winter in the first book because she associated it with bad times at the cabin so that makes sense but idk. I feel like if youre retconning her so much already you could easily wrie something about how she actually likes winter now that she has the power to withstand it or something but no, sure, have her fantasize about very spring-y weather in the book where the spring court gets demonized to hell and back why not

'[Rhysand] would give me the money for my shop, for what I was offering would cost nothing. Maybe I would sell my paintings to pay him back the money. Because I wanted to do that under any corcumstance, soulmates or not.' I was gonna write something snarky about Feyre in ACOSF but then it hit me that shes never going to have financial independance from Rhysand ever again and now Im just sad and anxious for her

(sry, im too lazy to translate this whole paragraph rn) '[Rhysand and I would do a bunch of fun stuff that couples do.] Never again someones slave or whore.' Its so wild to me that shes saying all this about the guy who made her his slave and whore MULTIPLE TIMES AT THIS POINT. like hey sarah, do you think your readers dont remember all that? do you think constantly calling back to it will make them forget somehow

Ive seen some people describe this book as gaslighting and honestly, its not even that its just lying. this story is just a bunch of lies that keep contradicting or otherwise disturbing eachother because the person telling it isnt even a good liar

Okayyyyy this chapter was a lot shorter than anticipated can you tell i dont plan these out at all but i dont feel like doing more than this and also while I was reading i got a really good idea for an Anastasia AU for a different fandom im in and I keep getting distracted and I wanna start working on it as soon as possible. And also, I'd like to be focused when I finally read that most infamous of chapters, thank you and good afternoon

#flames and darkness liveblog #anti acomaf #anti sjm

[ruthlesslistener]

You’ve got a few au’s where Pk is the one eggnant with hornet, any egggant Pk headcanons? Brooding habits? Weird cravings?

He's not much different than other broody wyrms tbh! Apart from the fact that he is of course a whole hell of a lot smaller, and considers any reminder of his biological basis to be a major indignity. The same basic premise for how I headcanon gravid wyrms are applies to him as well, which are:

-Getting far bulkier in both fat and muscle mass before and soon after the eggs are fertilized. Wyrms are ravenous beasts, and their hatchlings are even more so, considering how quickly they must grow to have a chance at surviving the Wastelands. But food is a scarce resource that must be carefully rationed, so most wyrm-parents will simply not eat after their children hatch, as they will be giving all of their prey to the new hatchlings. Not to mention that later on in the development period, much like snakes, a gravid wyrm will simply be too full of egg to eat big meals anyways, so it's better to just sleep and rely on those fat stores than to risk anything by moving

-His scales will darken, as the hormones for egg development/production also increase melanin production. This is because wyrm burrows are typically not located as deep underground as you'd expect (the nest would grow too cold otherwise), so the guarding 'female' would need to blend into the darkness better to hide the young. In someone like PK, who rarely ever goes through a breeding season gravid, this would just tinge his scales from white to silver, but wyrms who spend many seasons choosing to carry eggs will often be far larger and darker than other wyrms

-has the instincts to build an elaborate nest within a tightly enclosed/guarded space- think like a king cobra's nest, where there's a hollow broodchamber and a roof, except in his case he's trying to compensate for not being underground. Most wyrms will laboriously dig a great nesting-cavity out of mountainsides or rocky terrain, where the earth is too difficult to gouge up from underneath without the parents noticing, and is rough enough from above to hide the entrance to the burrow. In the very center of the nesting-cavity would be the nest itself, a hollowed-out dome filled deeply with a layer of stones at the bottom and soft earth/moss on the top to incubate the eggs and keep the hatchlings contained for a time, and around the walls of the nest would be a great groove for the brooding parent to wrap around, so that they may lie comfortably with their belly pointed inwards, their tough back plates pointing out, and their head resting either atop their coils or near the entrance/exit of the nest. This construction is a laborous process and usually occupies the first third of the gravid period when there is no mate to assist (the nonlaying parent helps build and will guard the nest vigilantly from outside, or if also gravid, will coil up alongside their partner in shifts)

-Aggressive and territorial-defensive behaviors would rise drastically. Making eggs is a taxing process, rearing the products of such process even moreso. A parenting wyrm's worst nightmare is an attack on their nest or mate, and so they deal with the threat of it by striking preemptively. This aggression boost is also passed onto the mate via pheromone transmission from the gravid parent, and excludes them from the enemy roster- but since only mates are allowed in close proximity, siring the clutch doesn't mean much. You have to be bonded in some way to not be suspect, and that's difficult to do

-More mate-appeasing requirements become necessary during this time as well, to prove that they would not turn on the clutch post-hatching (as the eggs may have mixed sires, and wyrms will kill and consume offspring that they sense is not their own). Remember that with gods, mateship is a balance of dominance; this is when submissive rites must be undertaken to lower the chance of being mauled by your gravid lover, as its usually the older, larger, more dominant wyrm who is carrying. Exceptions are rare, but when they happen, appeasement behaviors are still demanded- and would need to be met- by the previously-dominant partner. Feeding your gravid mate (or at least offering, if they refuse) is a huge part in this

-This irritation isn't helped by the fact that headaches, cramps, hot flashes and other problems are often triggered by the hormones

-The last third of the eggnancy is closed off by very little eating and quite a bit of sleeping. Like, most of the day comotose sort of deal. This is because wyrm clutches are large and laying is a laborious process, so sleeping most of the time is a means to build up energy for the big event, and the long brooding period that will come after. Don't disturb this slumber if you want to keep your hand (or life)- the slumbering wyrm is still primed to defend their nest to the bitter end, and will snap before they're fully awakened. Most non-gravid mates will abandon the nest at this point and take guard duty to avoid this fate

And that's it! It really isn't like a human pregnancy at all, so he doesn't get any weird cravings or anything like that. He basically just chonks up to an actually healthy weight, develops an even more insatiable appetite for flesh, and gets a whole hell of a lot moodier than normal bc of hormone migraines. All an indignity to him of course, but it's pretty manageable for Herrah bc all she's gotta do is throw food at the nest to feed the guy while she waits for her eggs to finish cooking. Wyrms are built to have clutches and guard nests on their own, since bonding with a mate isn't a sure deal, so PK is very much a hands-off means of producing an heir

#wyrmbology #how do I even tag this #the pale king #herrah the beast #hollow knight headcanons #demonicintegrity #reply #not maintagging this bc im a wimp sjfndj #speculative biology

[wildlyglittering]

A Love for all Seasons Part 2 (Spring)

So I am totally slack at continuing this series 😂

If anyone is remotely still interested here is Part 2 of ‘A Love for all Seasons’ which has now moved onto Spring. 

I’ll be honest... since reading ACOSF my love for Nessian has dimmed somewhat which means so has my enthusiasm for writing this. It’s likely I won’t continue the series beyond this chapter. 

I do have one final Nessian/ Neris piece that I am aiming to get out this year as a way to give myself some Nessian closure and say a final goodbye. For now - enjoy this one! 😉

***

The change from winter to spring brought new happenings to Velaris; pink blossoms on trees, turquoise waters on the Sidra, and the arrival of mating season which meant... well, it meant horny everything.

Nesta wasn’t immune to the hormones and pheromones and whatever else was being secreted into the air. Living in the city all her life meant she was prepared for what spring would bring, but she had been unprepared for spring when a hot-blooded Illyrian was involved.

That morning she woke to a dusky pink sunrise and with a bleary half-open eye, groaned at the number on her nightstand clock. She stretched and rolled, misjudging her distance from the other occupant in her bed.

“Ow.”

“Sorry,” she murmured, her voice still husky from sleep and snuggled closer, patting Cassian’s forehead as her face inched near his. “Still, elbow in the face is twenty points.”

“Hmm. Not sure I like this game and your bed is far too small.”

“Try hanging upside down from the beams like I suggested.”

Cassian’s eyes, centimetres from hers, flew open, bright and alert. Nesta swore he thought sleep was for the weak. “You are a wicked woman,” he said, glancing towards Nesta’s bare shoulder, “but there are other ways we can save on space.”

He rolled on top of her, ignoring her laugh and dragged the sheets with him, wings splayed above them both blocking out all hint of early sunlight.

Honestly, if he kept this up Nesta was going to need the hose.

After Cassian watched Nesta perform The Nutcracker at Solmas, there had been a few false starts. In part due to Nesta’s hectic winter dance schedule and in part due to what Nesta felt was a humiliation strong enough to die from.

Finally, after bouquets were delivered to her dressing room in such volume she would have been able to open her own floristry, she agreed to have coffee with him. Only the once, she’d said.

Coffee turned into lunch and then into dinner. Then, when he walked her home, she’d asked him inside. The next morning they ate their breakfast naked, tearing through toast and jam like starving animals before returning to bed.

Nesta remembered opening her curtains when they were done, the chill sinking through the glass as the frost displayed across the pane with a message. Naughty Girl.

She refused to be judged by frozen water and when Cassian came out of her bathroom, he’d raised an eyebrow on discovering Nesta pressing her middle fingers against her window.

That had been five months ago. Five months.

Snow and ice melted into puddles and now falling petals collected on the ledge outside her bedroom window spelling their own words. Today’s being; Niiiiice.

Yes, spring was hornier.

Oh, but it was nice. The time her and Cassian spent together somehow gave Nesta both peace and excitement, even if it was just them sitting on her sofa with her legs slung over his. Even now, after they’d relinquished themselves to spring’s influence once more, she lay on his sweaty chest, content to listen to the beat of his heart.

“You can’t be comfortable,” she said noting Cassian’s wings angled in unnatural directions to stop them squashing against the wall, but he only shrugged and said he’d manage.

Nesta’s small apartment was fine when it was only herself – small became cosy. When an Illyrian was present - small become cramped. When other, more unwelcome thoughts intruded – small became claustrophobic.

She’d tried reasoning with the apartment, tried flexing a little of her magic muscles to encourage it to increase space but it refused to budge, likely remembering when Nesta made good on her threat to hammer nails into walls.

Nesta had suggested that her and Cassian go elsewhere but last time Cassian booked them a hotel in the city centre. The room was lovely and most importantly, spacious, but that hadn’t been what Nesta meant.

Five months of sleeping together and she’d yet to visit his apartment.

The options she’d considered was that Cassian was either a serial killer hoarding his trophies, that he had a secret family no one was aware about, or that he was ashamed of whatever it was he was doing with Nesta and didn’t want her presence in his home.

She hoped he was a serial killer.

Cassian’s fingers stroked through her hair, tracing down her neck to her collarbone and Nesta knew they’d have to get up soon otherwise they’d never leave the bed. Even the graphically illustrated pamphlet she’d picked up from the Fae and Human Relations Clinic entitled, ‘Illyrian Sex and You,’ hadn’t provided the full picture.

“Oh honey,” a high fae woman next to her had said with a chuckle at Nesta’s blush, “you’ve got no idea.”

Cassian’s voice broke her out of her trip down memory lane. “What are you going to do with a full Saturday off?”

She shifted, trying to escape the fingertips drifting to the tops of her breasts and focused on the unsexy tasks before her. “Visiting Elain,” she replied, “if I don’t turn up to praise her garden in prime spring than she refuses to talk to me for months.”

One of the unwelcome changes of winter to spring was the shift in management at the Velaris City Ballet Company. Although Eris, the last fae director was an absolute, unmitigated prick, he was a prick Nesta was used to dealing with. Though he didn’t hold humans in high regard, at least he respected Nesta’s talent as a dancer.

The new director, Tamlin, had donned a sneer when he read Nesta’s name from the call sheet before making Gwyn cry, resulting in an argument between Nesta and him. After, he invited Nesta to his office and informed her that she didn’t have many more nails in the coffin of her departure to be hammered down.

Now, Nesta barely had any performance time. She wasn’t even ensemble; she was second ensemble. The once prima ballerina was about to become the prima cleaner.

The lies she spun to Cassian about her days didn’t include that. Instead, she deflected. “What will you do?”

“The usual.”

‘The usual’ for Cassian was free flying off the mountain Ramiel with Azriel and Rhys, followed by brunch with Mor and then training which seemed like a combination of throwing punches and getting hit by swords. Or avoiding getting hit by swords. Sometimes when she met him afterwards, Nesta couldn’t tell what the actual aim of the training had been.

Nesta stretched again, her back arching and cracking and the sheets fell from her chest. “Oh no,” she said to Cassian, noting the gleam in his eyes at her bared breasts. She shimmied under the covers to get to the end and crawled out, standing at the foot. “I have things to do.”

“So do I,” he said, eyes skimming from breasts to thighs and back again.

She grinned, shaking her head and scooping up his shirt to cover herself. In truth she couldn’t blame the spring air, he’d been like this all through winter.

The fucking fae were always fucking. Or tried to be.

Nesta pulled her hair into a braid as Cassian sat up to rest against the wall, wings now stretched as wide as possible in the gap, the talons brushing the plaster. “Hey,” he said, his voice breezy. “I have an idea. Before you visit Elain, why don’t you come with me for some of them?”

“Some of what?”

“My Saturday activities. Might be fun.”

“I’m not launching myself from anything thank you and I don’t feel like getting whacked with a sword.”

“You could come with me to brunch with Mor.”

Nesta paused, her fingers tangling in her hair, the braid pattern now destroyed.

Cassian had said it in a way like it wasn’t a massive deal to say to one of his long-standing friends, ‘oh by the way, you know Rhys is seeing Feyre who we all love. Well, I’m sleeping with her sister. No, not that one. The one no one likes.’

She looked over at Cassian, his skin holding a hint of crimson, his eyes staring down at his sheet covered knees. There was a lurch in her stomach. If he couldn’t make eye contact with Nesta during an invitation to brunch, how would he be throughout the actual event? Nesta imagined sitting opposite the blonde, glamourous Morrigan, a plate of maple-soaked pancakes between them, while Cassian pretended death glares weren’t being shot Nesta’s way.

Though her first inclination was to tell Cassian she would rather spend her time bathing in the Kelpie pool this was his first attempt at something different, something more public.

“I could look at the timings,” Nesta said, re-braiding her hair. “Are you sure Mor wouldn’t mind? Won’t it be weird if I just turned up with you?”

Cassian’s eyebrows lifted. “You’ll come? Ah she’ll be cool with it. She’s used to me rocking up with....”

Nesta arched an eyebrow of her own. “One-night stands? Girlfriends?”

“I was going to say, ‘lovely ladies of which I’ve spent lots of pleasant time with.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I can say we bumped into each other by the door.”

Nesta blinked but kept her face impassive. Cassian had shrugged at his statement, a hand casually gesturing into the air. Casual, casual. All so casual.

Almost half a year. Dinner dates, brunch dates, lunch dates – every meal date possible they’d done it and invented some of their own. He’d attended her performances while she still had dances to perform and he was over at her apartment so much that the front door of the building now opened to let him in.

She hadn’t been to his home and they hadn’t told anyone that they were – what? Dating? Seeing each other? Sleeping together? Nesta had used the word girlfriend in relation to women who had rocked up to his brunch with Mor but that’s not what she was. Even if she was, would any of his friends, her sister’s friends, be impressed?

The only one would be pleased would be Emerie but Nesta wasn’t ready to give her the satisfaction of knowing her stunt with The Nutcracker choreography had worked.

Nesta cleared her throat. “Thinking about it, I can’t.” She kept her voice as light as she could. “I’m taking the slow route to Elain’s and if I’m late to view the peonies open, she’ll kill me.”

There was no change to Cassian’s expression, he simply nodded and relaxed his shoulders. “Sure,” he replied, and Nesta wondered if he wanted that to be the answer all along.

“I’m going to grab a shower,” she said, turning away. Usually, she would extend the invite to him but not even the pollen in the air could fight its way through the heaviness of her chest. “Feel free to stay, have some coffee.”

“No, it’s best I go. I’ll be getting the third degree from Az and Rhys about being late.”

The bed creaked behind her as he rose, his heavy tread padding its way across the floorboards. A warm kiss landed on her shoulder, “I’ll see myself out, you go grab your shower.”

Nesta turned to face him, nodding with such enthusiasm she must have resembled a bobbing goblin. She kissed him goodbye, nothing more than a brief touch of her lips on his, before dashing into her bathroom.

The shower she took was long and hot, the steam curling into condensation everywhere in the small space. “Am I unlovable?” she asked the apartment walls.

When she stepped out from under the spray of water, there was a reply in the mist on the mirror.

No, it said, you’re not.

***

Elain lived an hour from the heart of Velaris and wasn’t too difficult to get to if you knew the best method of travel. Winnow Express didn’t operate outside the city parameters and if Illyrian Air had been operational, it still wouldn't be an option Nesta would have gone with.

Peregryn Air was renowned for speed and customer service but the prices highlighted on the app were out of Nesta’s shrinking budget. In the end, she settled on Pegasus’ non-flying option which meant she travelled by horse and carriage – much to Elain’s delight when Nesta arrived.

“Look at you!” Elain had squealed. “Very classic!”

The sisters sat under the shade of an oak tree, serenaded by the hum of bees while long stemmed flowers bobbed their heads in the breeze.

“How is Velaris?” Elain asked, adjusting her wide brimmed straw hat.

“Oh, you know this time of year – perilous.”

“Have you seen a lot of Feyre?”

Nesta shook her head and took a sip of her drink. Pink and fruity and delicious with a strange but not unpleasant tingle that Nesta couldn’t put her finger on.

“I saw her in March for lunch but then the snow melted and now she’s shacked up with her boyfriend.”

“Ah yes, spring madness.”

“I just hope they’re cleaning down the counters.”

They both shuddered.

“How about you?” Elain poked an ice cube in her glass with her straw. “Are you seeing anyone?”

Before Nesta could stop herself, the words fell from her mouth. “I’m sleeping with Cassian.”

There was a shriek from Elain and the hat flew off as she leant forward over the small garden table, the ribbons of her floral dress close to sinking into the pitcher. “Noooo! When did that start?”

“Soon after Solmas.”

“Five months! Are you just sleeping with each other or is other stuff going on?”

“We've been on dates. And he stays over so much it's like he's living with me.” Nesta frowned. Where was all this coming from? Although Elain wasn’t in contact with Feyre’s inner circle, it didn’t mean that Nesta planned on spilling her guts.

“Oh my goodness,” Elain said with a giggle. “I’m not surprised, you two always had a thing for each other.”

“We did?”

“How’s the sex?”

“Best sex of my life, in fact this morning he-”

Nesta jerked back in her chair, forcing her lips to press together. Elain was leaning so far over the table now it seemed she was seconds away from clamouring over it and onto Nesta’s lap. Nesta looked at the glass in her hand, the delightful blush pink liquid almost gone showing a golden residue collecting at the bottle. She stuck her nose in for a sniff.

Yes, there it was along with the cherry and hibiscus.

“Elain – did you put Amorveritas berries in this?”

Her sister had the decency to go a little red. “Maybe.”

“Elain! That’s a gross betrayal of trust!”

Elain’s freckled nose crinkled as she sat back in her chair, adjusting her hat which had seemed to grow an extra inch to hide more of her face. “Oh, you’ll forgive me. How else am I supposed to know what’s going on in your life?”

“You could ask.”

“I always ask,” Elain said with a huff. “You say ‘its fine’ and move on. But the last time you said it was fine – and I believed you – I got that phone call from Feyre to say you’d been arrested.”

“That was sorted out. And Feyre didn’t need to get involved either.”

“Hmm.”

They sat, the heavy shade of the tree covering them greater than before. Nesta glanced up, it wasn’t her imagination that the oak was leaning over them both, trying to listen into every word. “Do you mind?” Nesta snapped.

Elain winced and waved a hand at a low hanging branch. “Sorry, it has a will of its own. Loves gossip and my life doesn't give it enough.”

Nesta placed her drink down on the table. “I thought you weren’t going to get involved in magic? I thought that was the whole point of moving away from Velaris?”

Elain sighed and looked away into her garden, fingers twisting themselves in her dress. “I wasn’t. The problem is that little seedling we have. It’s hard for it not to take root. I wasn’t bothered in the city but now I’m here and I feel like I’m in my right place and I guess it grew.”

She looked to Nesta and Nesta nodded for Elain to continue.

“I have a non-magic herb and flower garden and a magic one. But Nesta, the prices I can charge for the magic produce is ridiculous! People will pay anything! You see all these acres of land? I own them. I’m about to put a down payment for my own Pegasus delivery service.”

Nesta smiled at her sister. “That’s wonderful. I’m really pleased for you.” But something wriggled inside her. Not a writhing serpent of jealousy, more a wriggling worm of discontent. Feyre was living her best life, her art indulged at Rhys’ expense, and so was Elain with her cottage and booming business. Nesta was happy they were happy, she just wished she wasn’t so unhappy.

“I’m looking for another job,” Nesta blurted out as Elain’s eyes went wide. The confession nothing to do with the berries and more the weight Nesta felt when she woke each morning.

“Why? You adore the ballet.”

“If you thought Eris was bad, he has nothing on the new director. Give me another week and I’ll be begging to clean the stage just to stay relevant.”

“Oh, Nesta.”

“It’s fine,” Nesta said, waving her hand as though she wave away the tightening of her throat. “I’m thinking about tutoring children in dance. If I can’t be the prima ballerina any more than maybe I can teach the next one.”

“That’s a beautiful way of looking at it.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

They both went quiet and when Nesta looked over, she saw Elain’s doe brown eyes grow watery.

“No please don’t cry,” Nesta said, “I’ll bounce back, I always do.”

“Does Cassian support this?”

There was a beat of silence as Nesta reached for her glass, just needing something to hold. Nesta had no plans to finish her drink and start telling Elain everything. Before she knew it, she’d be confessing about the time she and Feyre gave Elain’s ‘Garden Witch Barbie’ a haircut and makeover.

Some things, like that Barbie, had to remain buried.

“Cassian doesn’t know.”

“Why not?”

“Because we’re sleeping together. We’re not in a committed relationship. Besides, I don’t think he’d be interested.”

Elain leant forward to rest her elbows on the table and place her head in her hands, peering at Nesta. “Are either of you seeing anyone else?”

Nesta paused. Well, she wasn’t and she didn’t think Cassian was. No, she knew he wasn’t. He’d taken a call from Rhys while she’d been cooking dinner one evening and overheard him rebuffing Rhys’ attempts at a set-up.

“I’m not. I don’t think he is.”

“And this is Cassian we’re talking about. Pretty sure a queue as long as the Rainbow Bridge exists lining up for him, and it’s not to hold his hand.”

“I’m going to ignore you now.”

Elain tilted her head, eyes not leaving Nesta. She was unnervingly like Feyre when she had something in her sights. The Archeron family gift being a sliver of magic and a shit-ton of stubborn wilfulness. “Why don’t you think he’d be interested?”

Nesta shrugged her shoulder and looked around the garden for something, anything, that would remove her out of this conversation. Aside from placid rows of flowers and a nervous looking cherry tree nothing was coming to hand.

“He’s not seeing anyone else but it’s not like he wants anyone knowing he’s seeing me either. We only go out to places no one we know goes to, I haven’t even seen his apartment let alone spent a night there and this morning he suggested we pretend to bump into each other so I could join him and Mor for brunch.”

Elain straightened in her chair. “He invited you to brunch with Mor?”

“Not really.”

“Yes, he did! And we’re talking blonde bombshell Mor? Ex-girlfriend Mor? Best friend forever Mor?”

Nesta narrowed her eyes. “Is there any other?”

Fae were notorious for many things; parent issues, extensive criminal records, long lifespans and ridiculously high sex drives. Sooner or later, most fae found their way into each other’s beds, or bathrooms, or balconies, or underwater sex centres if Nesta believed Gwyn’s stories.

Cassian and Mor had both lived a long life, so long that Cassian didn't remember birthdays. But he did remember meeting Mor and finding her, in his words, ‘painfully attractive.’ Mor thought the same of him and they indulged in their mutual attraction until the spark burnt out before it became a fire.

Aside from Azriel, Mor was a rare factor in Cassian’s life that would remain until the end of eternity. Not even Rhys held that honour. Nesta had only met Mor a handful of times through their connection via Rhys and Feyre. Those occasions hadn’t been unpleasant, had even verged on cordial, but Nesta wasn’t known for natural warmth and Mor hadn’t extended conversation beyond polite pleasantries.

“I think you should talk to Cassian,” Elain said, “because I think you’re wrong. I think he would be interested to know what’s going on in your life and I think you want to tell him. You’re pissy over this whole Mor brunch thing which means you like him.”

“Well of course I like him.”

“No, you like him, like him. As in ‘you want him to be your boyfriend’ levels of like.”

Nesta snorted, a noise she hadn’t made in years. Feyre brought out the bratty teenager in her and Elain brought out the bratty child. “We’re grown women talking about liking boys. Soon we’re going to be doodling initials over hearts.”

“There have been studies on the success of doodle magic.”

Nesta sighed and rubbed her forehead, their talk kickstarting a headache. Soon she’d be begging to talk about anything else, even if it was Elain’s pruning routine.

“Nesta,” Elain said, quieter this time. “Please talk to Cassian. Five months is a long time – no don’t interrupt – I know five months is nothing for fae or Illyrians but I remember Feyre saying once that Cassian doesn’t do relationships.”

“Exactly.”

“No, I mean he doesn’t do anything that lasts over a month. In Cassian time, you’re married.”

“Elain-”

“Just promise me you’ll talk to him.”

***

Nesta had to begrudgingly accept that she’d softened over the years.

A promise had been extracted from her by Elain and a basket had been thrust into her hands. According to Elain the sex apples were all the seasonal rage. Nesta eyed up the shining red fruit and was beginning to understand how Elain was now able to afford the construction of her own set of Pegasus stables.

She trudged up the stairs of her building, ignoring the breathy moans from behind her neighbours’ doors on each floor. The sooner spring was over, the better.

Nesta heard Cassian before she saw him, a loud baritone passing as singing vibrating through the walls. Her apartment was now letting him waltz right in and that irritated her. This was her home; he had his own. Probably.

The door opened for her and she murmured a half-hearted thanks to the building which caused it to slam behind her. Cassian was in her small kitchenette, wings tucked in, hair tied up, wearing an armless undershirt revealing his swirling Illyrian tattoos.

He looked up, a broad grin on his face. “Hey, how was your day?”

“Fine,” she said, placing the basket onto the sideboard and looked around. Cassian’s jacket and shirt were thrown over her bed, his overnight bag back in the same corner he’d left it.

“Tea?”

“No thanks.”

“I thought we'd go out for dinner tonight, Autumn Court has just opened a new restaurant, The Forest House. I could fly there in less than an hour. The website says to expect lots of smoked meats and craft ales.”

Cassian boiled his water, a mug with a teabag waiting on the side from his unique blend of tea which now lived in her cupboard. The kettle whistled and a surge of irritation bubbled beneath her skin. The water never boiled that quick for her.

“Why are you here?”

Cassian’s smile slid from his face. “What do you mean? I always stay over on Saturday nights, it’s our thing.”

“Is it? Or is it just convenient for you so you don’t have to leave after fucking? Because that’s what we do, that’s ‘our thing’ – we eat and fuck.”

Cassian’s mouth dropped open but only for a second. “What did you just say?” His voice was soft but disarmingly so. The kind of soft the mermaids used before they sank their sharpened nails into your calf.

“You heard.” Nesta shifted where she stood, wondering where this was coming from, wondering if Elain had snuck something else into her glass.

For the briefest of moment’s Cassian’s face changed into something unrecognisable. Suddenly he was wearing a different face, one Nesta had never seen directed at her but was likely a familiar sight to those he hunted down as a bounty hunter. Black consumed all of his eyes, his wings flexing, talons scrapping against the brickwork. A muscle twitched in his jaw as he clenched his teeth, while a shadow passed over his features.

His eyes scanned her face, his nostrils flaring. This version of Cassian, albeit restrained, was still dark and dangerous and Nesta’s pulse hammered in her throat with a reason far from anything considered arousal.

Then, the moment drifted away. Cassian let the moment drift away as though it were a cloud in the spring breeze.

“How’s Elain?” he asked, injecting a lightness to his tone.

“She’s fine,” Nesta said with a frown.

“And what happened to put you in this mood? What did she say?”

An indignant snarl left Nesta’s mouth. Best Cassian know all of her she decided. He’d heard Feyre’s stories of how difficult Nesta could be. “She didn’t say anything. And how dare you! I’m not in any mood, this is my home, I want to sit on my couch, watch ‘Suriel on Saturday’ and do fuck all.”

“Then we’ll do that.”

A shriek left Nesta’s mouth and she pushed the base of her palms against her eyes until she saw lights. She took a deep breath in, trying to remember the exercises she’d been taught from her court ordered ‘Temper Your Temper’ class.

When her breathing calmed, she pulled her hands away. Cassian still standing in the same place, eyes fixed on her.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you think I’m losing it, like I’m something to be pitied.”

“I’m not-” he began and paused, scrubbing one large hand over his face. “I don’t understand where this is coming from.”

Any energy Nesta had vanished, and she turned to the section of her apartment which acted as her living area and walked over to the couch, sinking into the oversized cushions and pulling her knees underneath her. She stared at a blank spot on the wall ahead.

“I’m going to quit the ballet.”

A soft ‘what’ came from the kitchen followed by the heaviness of Cassian’s tread before the couch dipped under his weight. Nesta swayed towards the middle, their knees brushing.

“Why?”

Nesta cleared her throat. “I’m not being utilised and won’t be for as long as Tamlin is in residence and he’s not going anywhere fast. The longer I stay, the more I doubt my ability so I need to get out while I still believe I’m good. I am you know – good.”

There was a chuckle next to her and she turned to look at Cassian, a broad grin stretched across his face, any hint of his earlier anger gone. “You are,” he said, “I have your Nutcracker performance etched in my memory. Might get a tattoo of it. Before we started dating, I masturbated to it more than was healthy.”

Nesta coughed on air and chose to ignore his latter comment. “We’re dating?”

Cassian frowned, turning towards her. “What else are we doing?”

“Sleeping together.”

“Yeah, but the other stuff – the hanging out, the going out – that’s not dating to you?”

Nesta pinched the skin between her eyebrows in her fingers, a tension headache beginning to rise.

In the basket of fruits Elain had gifted her, there was a nectarine designed to soothe any ailments but her mouth was dry and her throat was tight. If she tried to swallow a bite, she was concerned she’d choke and turn into some tragic modern fairy tale.

The last thing Nesta needed right now was a series of dwarves rocking up to cart her off in a glass coffin to be gawked at by perverts. They had a habit of turning up every time there was a fruit related choking incident.

She sighed, releasing the skin between her fingertips. “Yes, but also – no. When I’ve dated other people, I’ve felt like I’m in their life. I don’t always end up meeting their friends but at the least I’ve been to their homes you know? I haven’t been invited back to yours once.”

“Ah,” Cassian said, “so there’s a reason I haven’t invited you back to me place.” A deep crimson bloomed on his cheeks. “I don’t actually have a place to invite you back to.”

Nesta blinked at him, the words taking longer to meet her brain than she would have thought.

“I’m not homeless,” Cassian said. “I have a house, a very nice house, lots of bookshelves – you’d love it. It’s in Illyria. I didn’t want to put roots down in Velaris so I fly the distance to the city each time I come or I stay with Rhys and Feyre. I figured if I invited you back to theirs, it would be weird.”

Nesta opened her mouth to speak only to close it again. Words were taking longer to exit her brain too.

“I am looking to rent a place,” Cassian continued. “It’s been on my mind more and more but I didn’t want to get ahead of myself and do that if there wasn’t a reason to. We hadn’t discussed where this was going and you seemed to be quite casual so...”

Cassian trailed off, gazing at the same empty spot on the wall opposite that had enraptured Nesta earlier.

“You fly from Illyria to Velaris. Daily?”

“Now, I do. Yeah.”

“And you think I’m casual about this? About us?”

Cassian inhaled and turned to face her again. “Yeah, you’ve never mentioned wanting to do anything more – announce to friends or see my place so I figured you either didn’t care or didn’t mind me being here all the time. You never told Emerie that we got together after Solmas so I thought you didn’t want people to know. I thought you were embarrassed.”

“Huh.”

Nesta processed his words. She hadn’t told Emerie, even when pressed, that her stunt with the Illyrian choreography had worked. It was nothing to do embarrassment over Cassian but more that Nesta’s pride couldn’t handle how Emerie had read the situation from a distance.

“I’ve told Elain. She seems to think you’re into me.”

“She’s right. I am into you. In a massive way.”

“I’m kind of into you too. In a massive way.”

Cassian’s following laugh was more nervous air being released from his lungs than mirth.

Nesta reached out to grab the material of his undershirt. “If you’re so into me, why did you invite me to brunch with you and Mor and suggest we go through an insulting charade?”

Cassian winced, reaching out to clasp her hand with his own, his large fingers entwining through her thin ones. His wings flexed and unflexed behind him.

“I’ve spoken about you so much to Mor. If she hasn’t worked out that we’re seeing each other, she’s worked out I’m into you. I thought if we could have brunch she’d see how awesome you were but I didn’t want to pressure you so thought I’d suggest something more.... casual.”

“I was agreeing until you started bringing up ex-girlfriends and making stupid suggestions!”

Cassian began to say something and then stopped before replying. “Well, I panicked.”

They sat back on the couch, Nesta’s hand now removed from Cassian’s top but her hand still cradled in his. The floorboards above them creaked in a rhythm as spring claimed the upstairs neighbours.

“What’s it like staying at Rhys?” Nesta asked.

Cassian shuddered. “Awful. One time I had to hose them.”

Nesta laughed and Cassian looked at her, eyes twinkling. Then, the twinkle dimmed a little. “I’m sorry about the ballet,” he said, his voice gentle, “I know you loved it.”

Nesta shrugged, feigning nonchalance but she knew Cassian could tell she was faking from the way he squeezed her hand. “Some things are meant to come to an end.”

“Not all things I hope,” he said, flexing his thumb to caress her skin.

Nesta squeezed back. “No, not all things.”

What would be her plan now? Options whirred through her mind. Find a new job, quit her current one, call Emerie for a drink where Nesta could confess that Emerie’s plan had worked and listen to her gloat on her genius for a couple of hours. Have brunch with Mor. Tell Feyre.

“What are you thinking?” Cassian asked her.

“I’m thinking we need to step up our game. I need to find a new role and you need to get an apartment that doesn’t cause you to hit your head on beams.”

“It’s fine – the beams move for me.”

“Of course, they do,” Nesta said with a glance upwards at her ceiling. If brick and mortar could shrug, it would have. “Then I was thinking we could have dinner with our collection of weirdos, tell them we’re in a committed relationship and sit back as they argue over it while we eat dessert.”

The broadest grin she’d ever seen appeared on Cassian’s face, “Yeah?”

“Only if you’re up for it?”

“Oh,” he said, a growl to his voice as he leant forward, “I’m always up for it.”

Nesta rolled her eyes - honestly, spring.

“Wait,” she said, placing her hand on Cassian’s bare chest – how in the Mother had he removed his top so fast? She looked over his shoulder to the basket of fruit on the sideboard, the juicy red sex apples shining. “First, I’m going to bake us a very nice fruit.”

#nessian #fanfiction #nesta archeron #cassian #nesta x cassian #nesta #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #i wrote something #nessian fanfiction #nessian fic #nessian fan fiction #nessianfic #nesta archeron x cassian #nessian fan fic #a love for all seasons #a love for all seasons part 2 #a love for all seasons winter

[irregularcollapse]

Hi :3

Just popping by to tell you that I really really love even in another time, I was in the middle of a very stressful exam season, and it gave me a little not-time-consuming something to do that cleared my head and made me go forward. I hadn't read cp in like ten years and couldn't even remember anything aside from the character's names lmao. It was soo sweet to come back to it. Last week after wednesday's update I literally thought "god this is so good I wish there was a way to have more of this", so I dusted off my old kindle and reread the books. I somehow forgot every single plot point so it was like reading them for the first time.

I've now finished the whole trilogy, and I can't wait to get back to your fic. I still haven't read wednesday's update and I'm looking forward to reading that and every single one that's to come, I'm soaking up every snippet you're posting (stealing those words from someone's tags here on tumblr bc YES), and I just wanted to thank you.

I haven't gotten around to leaving you a comment on the last chapters on ao3 (I'm mysterymuseum there), but I did write down the things I liked most about them, so just know they're coming <3

This got way longer than I was expecting, but yeah. You're the real King (gn) here <3

Okay mate hold on hold on listen 🥹🥹🥹

Thoroughly overwhelmed by this message (and also your continued enthusiasm for the fic, and the fact that you picked it up in the first place without being fully invested in the source material!!!!)

Without getting too gushy and deeply into it, I had a really long period of not writing at all due to illness and was really depresso over not being able to focus enough to get cohesive/coherent words on a page. So being actually materially able to work on this, in a sustained and consistent way, has been really incredibly healing for me. It's just so huge and overwhelming to see the response and interest. I'm truly just being as self-indulgent as possible and trying to have fun, and it's just like! Wow! Other people enjoy it too!

Anyway thanks so much, you're an absolute gem, can't wait for you to read today's update when I post it later on etc. etc. have a snippet from a future chapter (I won't say when/how far away this is 👀 but enjoy lmfao)

∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿

Gee I wonder what they're getting up to here. Who could possibly say.

#asks #my writing #even in another time fic

[denimbex1986]

'The Tardis has landed. If you have been following along, you know that Jodie Whittaker‘s Thirteenth Doctor has morphed into David Tennant‘s Fourteenth Doctor, who was also the Tenth Doctor, a re-regeneration unheard of in the annals of the Time Lords. (Someone better informed than I might be aware of a precedent — anyway, it’s rare.) You can’t go home again, wrote Thomas Wolfe, but F. Scott Fitzgerald said you can repeat the past — of course you can.

Indeed, the past repeats gloriously in “Doctor Who: The Star Beast,” the first of three 60th-anniversary specials premiering Saturday that will end in a fourth, with the Christmas Day advent of Ncuti Gatwa as Doctor No. 15 in “The Church on Ruby Road.” (“Wild Blue Yonder” on Dec. 2 and “The Giggle” on Dec. 9 complete this anniversary series.) This is also the first episode of the beloved British franchise to appear under Disney+’s deal with the BBC to become its exclusive international home, outside of the U.K. and Ireland, but so far the House of Mouse seems to have interfered only to the extent of pouring a bucket of cash into a production that sometimes could look strapped for it.

Running the show again is Russell T Davies, who in 2005 brought “Doctor Who” back to life after 16 years, during which time the character had survived in novels, comics, radio dramas and a single TV movie. Christopher Eccleston played the Doctor for the first revival season; but Tennant, who took over the role that Christmas and kept it until the dawn of 2010, was the gift the Doctor and Davies had been waiting for. And arguably — there will always be argument around “Doctor Who” — they were never better than when Catherine Tate, a hilarious comic actor with a talent for breaking your heart, joined them as the Doctor’s human traveling companion and very best mate Donna Noble. And she’s back as well. Exclamation point! Life could not be better. Let their fierce chemistry recommence.

Yes, yes, I hear you say, but didn’t the Doctor bury Donna’s memory in order to keep her head from exploding when she absorbed a lethal dose of Time Lord mojo? And if she remembers him now, won’t she die? Of course, this sort of science fiction can always rewrite the rules, as desired, or discover a new one. Canon is useful only insofar as it doesn’t get in the way of the story, and Davies’ sensibility is more attuned to poetry than plot, which is just a tool to make you feel big feelings. But you should be concerned for them. I mean, I was.

After a worrisome, cheap-looking, afterthought of a prologue, in which Tennant and Tate, speaking to the camera, fill in backstory for the benefit of Disney+ subscribers new to “Who,” we dive into the episode proper, which looks fantastic, begins fast and gets faster. No time is wasted bringing our main players onstage, to a busy London street. We are reminded that Donna, before she became an adventurer in time and space, had a habit of missing things, and she does here, as a spacecraft blazes across the sky and lands with a bang in the distance. And she feels that something is missing from her otherwise happy life, but she can’t say what it is.

The Doctor also will meet Donna’s daughter, the not arbitrarily named Rose (Yasmin Finney), and meet again Donna’s husband, Shaun Temple (Karl Collins), last seen at their wedding back in 2010. Ruth Madeley plays Shirley Anne Bingham, a droll science advisor from UNIT, which guards the world — well, London at least — from extraterrestrial and paranormal threats. (It hasn’t always succeeded.) The resident alien is the Meep (voiced by Miriam Margolyes), making its screen debut — the episode is based on a story from a comic in Doctor Who magazine — which presents first as something like Gizmo the Gremlin, and then as something more like a Gremlin after it’s been fed after midnight.

In his quantum way, the Doctor is always the same person but different — except here, where he is very much his old self again, only 13 years older. I have love, in different degrees, for all successive Doctors. (The Doctor, calling himself “the one in the skinny suit,” ticks off his subsequent regenerations: “After that I wear a bow tie, after that I’m a Scotsman, after that I’m a woman.”)

Similarly, each showrunner — including Steven Moffat and Chris Chibnall, who followed and now have been followed by Davies — brought something different to the show, while it always remained fundamentally “Doctor Who.” (Some fans would say otherwise.) But Davies is the architect of the 21st century series, which never seemed tired or strained under his watch, as it sometimes later could. His blend of comedy, tragedy, suspense, romance, terror and farce is quite exhilarating, and with Tennant and Tate, he has two players who have his music down. It’s going to be hard losing them again — I’m getting a little teary just thinking about it — but it’s already on the schedule, and come Christmas, there’ll be a new Doctor to sing this song.'

#Doctor Who #Russell T. Davies #The Star Beast #Catherine Tate #Donna Noble #David Tennant #60th Anniversary #Ncuti Gatwa #The Giggle #Wild Blue Yonder #Rose Noble #Yasmin Finney #the Meep #Miriam Margolyes #Ruth Madeley #Shirley Anne Bingham #Shaun Temple #Karl Collins

[the0ldmann]

Headcannon time! (I'm sorry, I never know if it's one word or two-)

(Reminder that ''Something's Wrong with Sunny Day Jack" is an adult only fandom- minors and ageless blogs will be blocked on sight!)

I was just thinking about the 4 seasons earlier- some coworkers were talking about their favourites and why they were their favourites. So naturally, when I was on my own again, I had to wonder if *any* of our boys had favourites. Because nothing gets me through a rough workday better than thinking about these guys- *ahem*

Yes that's right though- *any* of them. I know I've typically only written stuff for the most beloved of clowns, but this seemed easy enough an exercise I thought I'd give it a go for all of them. So without further ado, here we go!

Joeseph:

Winter. He wanted to say summer, he really did. But with all the painful memories of school being out, having to deal with his "home life" (that let's remember was bad enough he ran away), and then struggling in the summer heat while undoubtedly homeless for a bit after having run away... It seems he was in the southern continental United States in the 80s during this point in his life. Winter wouldn't have been too ungodly cold at the time, so that might have been fairly okay to deal with. But summer? Summer heat would have still been unbearable even then. Not to mention if he had to dumpster dive for food, it would all rot quicker, and excessive sweating from the heat would have made him stink... Winter time meant school, and therefore getting away from 'home.' It also meant an ever so slightly more comfortable temperature-wise time while stuck on the streets (though I'm sure it still sucked, the heat of summer makes things 10x worse and so winter at least would bring mild relief in that regard). Once he gets the acting gig, starts turning his life around, and starts making friends, then there's also the holidays to contend with. Sure, the stress on family is painful I imagine. But if he had some genuinely good friends like some of his cast mates (other than Jean) seem to be? I inagine they might have invited him over for a friend get-together. Or they'd visit him where he's staying and bring a casserole and maybe a rotisserie chicken. They'd look out for him. And you can't tell me that wouldn't make the holiday season just a little more enjoyable for him. (Oh gods now I'm thinking about an impromptu friends-giving with all the cast members at like, a hotel Joeseph is staying at, I can't, who's cutting onions-)

Jean:

Autumn. Hear me out- he strikes me as pretentious af. A chunk of the content I see for him seems to have the fandom agree. Definitely full of himself with that ego he seems to carry around. So I'm going to go out on a limb and say that spring, summer, and winter try to, in his mind, hinder his perfect appearance/environment and so he hates them. You can't tell me he likes being uncomfortable, literally everything we know about him screams "if I'm not comfy 100% of the time I'm going to make it everyone's problem." Winter is too cold for him. Dressing trailer? No no no, he wants a room in the studio itself- a trailer would be far too cold. He'd shiver nonstop, ruin the makeup, and he just doesn't seem like the type to enjoy wearing fifty layers to keep warm. Summer is too hot. He's sweating everything off. While he may seem like someone to take pride in the way he looks, I imagine he only likes to do that in his own time, preferable at a pool, and not because he's sweat through the third costume since noon and has had to strip down yet again. Not to mention heat does tend to make people more aggressive... Spring? Too wet. He absolutely likes to keep himself looking perfectly styled, and the drowned rat look rain gives is not desireable to him. Spring is well known for its rain after all. So all that leaves is autumn! Temperate weather, not a whole lot of rain, gentle breezes, and some great fashions are fall perfect. He was wearing a turtleneck sweater in the one picture, wasn't he? Turtlenecks- perfect for fall weather and perfect for looking sharply dressed but also somewhat casual at the same time. That's it. He cares way too much about his appearance.

Shaun:

Autumn. He's absolutely an autumn fan. How could he not be? The weather is getting cooler so it's perfect for sweaters and cuddles. Spooky month (October) is in autumn and we all know he's a big horror fan. It's also the start of the holiday season, and for someone so willing to go out of his way to help and even just spend time with those he cares about? Regardless of what other autumn holidays besides Halloween he may or may not celebrate, you can't tell me he wouldn't take advantage to spend more time with those he cares about.

Jack:

All of them. No no, I literally mean it. Sure it may seem like a cop-out, but do you really think he could actually pick a favourite? One he likes more than the others? You would think summer would be his favourite- the clearest skies for the sunniest days are in summer and lords know Sunny Day is in the man's name... But I genuinely think he's such a positive and brighter-side-of-things kinda guy that he would say he loves them all.

Summer? Perfect for camping, going to the beach, enjoying ice cream for two but sharing one spoon...

Spring? The start of new life! Flowers are in bloom, animals are making babies (and whether or not he could make babies with you, he certainly wouldn't mind an excuse for the exercise), and the spring rains really do carry a freshness to them that rain during the rest of the year just does not have.

Autumn? Starting to get cooler, so it's perfect for bundling you up, especially in his jacket. Get cozy on the hillside as you stargaze at night...

Winter? (Assuming there will be snow.) Better like curling up under a blanket with him by the fireplace! Only after a long day of building a snowman with him, or after having enjoyed a lovely carriage ride through the park. Plus with numerous holidays coming up (pick your flavor), why wouldn't he want to spend as much time as possible with those he cares about? If its a holiday with any sort of gift giving or special foods/baked goods, surely you wouldn't go without gifting him a plate of his favourite chocolate chip cookies, would you?

Ian:

Spring. No, I wasn't influenced by the bunny costume. ... Okay I absolutely was. But I can still justify this! He seems like, if Jean is his dad like I've seen some people theorize, then I imagine he'd take after dislike of being uncomfortable and so that would rule out summer and winter. He also only has one childhood friend, so school had to be relatively rough to deal with. He had someone to hang with over the summer at least, but autumn is the start of school season. Therefore, autumn is the start of dealing with school bullies again. Spring would herald a soon-to-be end to the school season, with decent temps, and considering the fact he's a weeb- cherry blossom season. Again, spring is also the season of new beginnings. While we don't know when Ian and MC move in the game, spring almost seems like the perfect time for it to happen. Right after graduating, get away from toxic family as quickly as possible, and all the symbolism with them starting a new chapter... It just fits. And if Jean is his dad, spring could be viewed the opposite of his, while also being quite similar in a way- similar temps being the most obvious similarity.

Nick:

Summer. He is an influencer after all. What better season for doing all the fun things and showing them off, but the good ol' summer season? Water parks, camping trips, outlet malls, visits to the dog park, beach visits, museum trips, vacationing to other places in general... Also, it's so hot out, it's the perfect excuse to go to your fav local froyo place and try asking out the cutie behind the counter!

(I do not codone this behaviour of Nick's btw, please don't ask out people while they're at work, it's uncomfy af-)

Bonus Barry:

(Yeah I'm adding Barry for the all of probably three people that simp for him here.)

Summer. It's probably his favourite but not for the most obvious of reasons. Of course his business of frozen treats will be booming during the hottest season of the year- raking in the dough and boosting his ego for being "such a good manager to keep the ship running so smooth during such a busy time!" But if Sauce wasn't totally joking around when they said Barry had "never forgotten about you" in that ominous looking text... Well, what better season than summer to make your favourite worker sweat and squirm under your gaze? What better time than summer to leave them panting and breathless with your incessant phone calls demanding attention unpaid overtime that leaves them too exhausted to utter a word in protest? Plus, bodies rot and decay faster in the heat...

(okay but for real I hate Barry, I've had mamagers like Barry, I hope he gets some comeuppance be it either death or getting demoted or just having to do our job in our stead- and btw watching a manager like that get forced by their supervisor to come help you in a rush and have to ask you what to do and take direction from you? Good gods it happened to me once but it was worth the world to me heeheeheeheehee-)

(Holy shit this was long af- way longer than I intended, whoops! Hope ya'll enjoyed though! Also hope the formatting is okay as soon as I hit post cause I did this all on mobile-)

#minors dni #ageless blogs dni #sunny day jack #sdj #something's wrong with sunny day jack #swwsdj #headcannons

[mangle-my-mind]

Slash Ships to Get to Know Me

**Rules**: Name at least five (no upper limit) slash (M/M) ships you love. Each from a different fandom.

Thanks @autumnsup for tagging me! My brain immediately went haywire trying to think of this list. I might steal a few ships that you mentioned ;) also my definition of what constitutes slash is a pretty loose one. Some of these relationships I imagine as & instead of /, but I still froth at the mouth thinking about them so I'm including them here.

Velvet Goldmine - Jack Fairy/Curt Wild. This one isn't explicitly in the movie, but the dynamics of Jack and Curt just make it such a worthwhile relationship to explore. There's so much care and tenderness I can imagine between them, with Jack being there for Curt at one of his lowest points and the two of them working on music together. In my fic "In Berlin," I displayed their relationship as more or less platonic, but that doesn't mean I don't ABSOLUTELY LOVE the idea of them being together more intimately. There are some amazing gorgeous fics of Curt/Jack out there that I have read a million times over! (Close VG seconds are Arthur/Curt and Jack/Malcolm. Curt/Brian is important of course, and I love reading fic about it, but it's just too doomed for me to put my heart behind lol)

Our Flag Means Death - Ed Teach/Stede Bonnet. Oh my god. OH MY GOD. The way this show rotted my brain. The way these gay pirates seeped into my consciousness and won't leave. Their story so far has been so wonderful (and devastating - that goes without saying) and I'm so excited for their relationship to deepen in season 2. There's promise of more drama, more romance, and more spiciness! In the meantime, though, I'm eternally grateful to the literal tens of thousands of Ed/Stede fics that build on this love story. (Jim/Oluwande and Lucius/Pete are also incredible)

Beatles - McLennon. Okay, so this one is kind of wishy-washy for me because of the rpf element. There have been some McLennon fics that have given me everything I'd ever want and more. Then there have been fics that just made me uncomfy. This is a personal thing and not at all trying to hate on any fic writers; sometimes the spiciness gets too much when I remember John and Paul are real-life people. Regardless - McLennon is a love story. It is. They were in love, no matter how you look at it, and their relationship and how it manifested in their music and actions is such an interesting arc to observe. Ugh I just love reading their quotes about each other, seeing their studio interactions, analyzing their lyrics in songs directed at each other. And there have been so many fics that have captured this relationship between them so beautifully (whether or not it was accurate, it felt real enough to me). I've been in the Beatles fandom longer than in any other fandom, and even if I don't approach the John/Paul ship the way I do fictional ships, it brings me so much joy to learn about and read about and see art about their decades-long love story. (Another Beatles-ish relationship I've been loving lately is George/Bob Dylan. They are absolute girlies maximizing their joint slay)

Across the Universe - Jude/Max. This ship is kind of recent, though my love for the movie is years-old. On a recent rewatch, I realized that actually, no, Jude and Lucy aren't really right for each other, no matter how hopeful that ending seems for their story. And I love the dynamic between Max and Jude. And I've read some incredible fics recently covering just that. So yes, give me more Jude/Max please. And all Beatles fans should watch this movie btw. Also fans of trippy visuals and ambitious musical numbers and fun cameos (Bono? Eddie Izzard? Salma Hayek? Joe Cocker? sign me up)

Trainspotting - Renton/Sick Boy. Again a movie that has been a part of my life for so freaking long, but a ship that came a little later. I love their dynamic and how it changes through the films. In the 90s, they're kinda dicks to each other, but "he's a mate" so they tolerate each others' antics. The fics written about this era are so interesting, because on the surface there's a lot of shitty behavior to each other, but underneath there's always care and love. By the time they reach the 2010s, they've been estranged for twenty years, and yet they really do cling to each other. Part of that is just clinging to the past and trying to recreate some beautiful bygone days they're imagining, but still there's love between them. Anyway go read some Mark/Simon fic because it's always a good time.

Thanks again for tagging me! Anyone feel free to get in on this. I'll tag @moonage-xx-daydream @holy-loki - if you guys feel like doing it :)

#tag game #favorite slash ships #open tag