#I've put so much thought in every word I've written. there's a reason behind every single detail

[anto-pops]

Secrets - Ominis Gaunt x Female! Reader

Summary: After slinking out of Hogwarts for five long, stressful hours in the dead of night, you returned to a pissed off Ominis who is beyond fed up with your blatant disregard for your well being. The last thing he wants to do is let you off easy, so he patches you up and elects to 'punish' you for your infuriating secrecy.

Alternatively summarized as really, really shameless Dominis smut.

Yes, this is the most gratuitous thing I've ever written. No, I will not be taking questions at this time.

Word Count: 9.5k

Warnings: 18+, aged up characters, explicit sexual content, rough sex (seriously)

Full fic can be found here on Ao3 with much more informative tags

It was well after midnight by the time you returned to Hogwarts. You would have come back sooner if it had been up to you— seeing as you weren’t particularly keen on slinking through the school’s deserted corridors in the dark. But you were tired, bruised, and lacking a good amount of blood that had left your body through the deep slice in your leg, so naturally you moved slowly.

At least with the late hour, you would be able to avoid Ominis. There was no way you could deal with his particular brand of ire right now. 

You didn’t mean to keep these things from him, but he was a chronic worrier. Every time you left the castle walls for something– be it for potions ingredients, or to help out in a nearby village– Ominis would grouse about it. While he knew you could handle yourself in most situations, he was convinced that you continued putting yourself in danger simply because it was the only thing you were used to. From the moment you entered his world in your fifth-year, you had been fighting for your life and solving other people’s problems without so much as a spare thought for yourself.

He made it very clear to you that he wasn’t a fan of your heroism. “It’s not your job to fix everything,” he had told you one night after you missed dinner to take on an entire Poacher camp by yourself. 

You knew that. But that didn’t mean you wouldn’t at least try to help where you could. 

Which was precisely why you had agreed to travel to Marunweem in the first place. The town’s doctor had sent you an owl requesting your assistance after a caravan of medical supplies was raided by Ashwinders. The grimy bastards had holed up in a cave a mile outside of the village for the better part of a month and had been robbing its denizens left and right, leaving the townsfolk too terrified to leave their homes and run the risk of getting hounded. 

Finding the slippery fuckers had been easy enough. What you hadn’t counted on was the second group of them that returned to the camp half-way through dispatching the first bunch. Their arrival had caught you off guard, which was the only reason one of the Scouts succeeded in hitting you with a Diffindo charm when your back was turned. You had been effectively handicapped for the remainder of the fight, limping around to dodge more curses and charms alike, but it wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle. In the end, you had made it out victorious, leaving a pile of Ashwinder bodies behind in your wake. 

Climbing the staircase to the Astronomy Wing was a trial in and of itself; your leg stung fiercely every time you lifted your knee to take another step, the torn skin pulling uncomfortably and throbbing with every minute movement you made. You were all too grateful to reach the top landing, the massive, oak entryway to the Room of Requirement revealing itself before you’d even reached the wall. A small mercy.

The heavy door swung shut behind you as you limped straight from the entrance over to your potion’s table. There was only one thing on your mind, and you already knew you had no vials of Wiggenweld left, so you started methodically gathering what you needed to brew a fresh batch. You lit the burner and added Horklump Juice to the cauldron first, letting that simmer over low heat while you riffled through a drawer to grab a rag. 

“Aguamenti,” you murmured under your breath, saturating the cloth with water before firmly pressing it against the jagged gash in your thigh. The fibers burned the raw skin underneath, but you grit your teeth through the pain, whimpering softly as you turned back to your Wiggenweld potion. Healing magic was always something that had eluded you– despite your best efforts– and as a result, you didn’t trust yourself to properly stitch your skin back together with a spell.

As you picked out a handful of Dittany to toss into the bubbling mixture, the telltale sound of clothing shuffling reached your ears. After the hellish night you’d just lived through, your instincts had you whirling around with your free hand hovering inches away from your side, ready to draw your wand from its holster in a heartbeat. 

It was Ominis. Shit.

He was sitting on the couch on the opposite side of the room, bathed in the silvery moonlight that streamed through the skylight overhead. Your tunnel vision upon entering the room had allowed you to overlook his presence entirely– but he’d also made no move to make himself known. His sharp, angular features were drawn into a tense expression, and his fingers tapped impatiently against his crossed legs, betraying just how pissed he actually was. 

Fuck. 

“Ominis, what are you doing just sitting there? You scared me, why didn’t you say something?” Your heart hammered against your sternum so hard, you were certain that he could hear it. 

“What am I doing?” Ominis’ voice was like a whip, cutting through the air as viscerally as the Diffindo charm that had sliced your leg. “How about you tell me where you’ve been for the last five hours, or why you’re bleeding out and trying to fix it with a potion instead of going to the Hospital Wing?”

There was a split second where you considered denying his claims, but you knew it was pointless. He had likely heard you mewling and smelled the blood the moment you walked through the doors— and besides, lying would only upset him further. “I had to deal with a few Ashwinders in Marunweem,” you confessed, wanting desperately to leave it at that so you could focus on dealing with your leg.  

Ominis finally stood from the couch, his imposing presence amplifying as he strode across the chamber with his wand clutched tight in his white knuckled grip. “Since when are ‘a few’ Ashwinders getting the jump on you? Don’t sugarcoat the truth, I’m in no mood for your tip-toeing.”

You sighed as the blond planted himself directly in front of you, the slender fingers of his free hand reaching for your shoulder, and once he found you, he followed your arm down to where you held the rag against your thigh. His brows slammed down at the grating confirmation that yes– you were hurt, and he tsked disapprovingly before nodding over your shoulder at the potion’s table. “Sit down, I’ll do it– and turn off the burner.” 

Once again, you found yourself hesitating, if only because your pride had never allowed you to easily accept assistance from other people. But the rigid set to Ominis’ shoulders had you complying relatively quickly, afraid that if you protested him helping, he would really let you have it. So you cranked the burner knob to the off position, then shuffled over to the other end of the table. 

A soft hiss slipped through your teeth as you shifted to hoist yourself onto the flat surface, the movement pulling at your wound painfully, and you instantly felt Ominis’ warm hands around your waist. He helped you hop up on the table, letting you get settled as he pried the rag away from your thigh. His ministrations were soft and thoughtful; a stark contrast to the unyielding, vexed expression on his face. 

Your trousers hung in tatters around your injured leg, fluttering listlessly around your calf, so Ominis tore the remaining fabric away and discarded it to the floor. His wand flared briefly as he summoned a collection of Wiggenweld potions beside you, handing one to you soundlessly. 

As you worked the cork out of the top, you muttered, “When did you brew these?” 

“I didn’t,” Ominis replied evenly, taking the damp cloth from your trembling fingers to re-saturate it with water. You jolted in place when he pressed it to your thigh, but the tender sweep of his thumb across your unmarred knee soothed you instantly. “They’re technically Sebastian’s. I’m sure he’ll be less than pleased to find them missing from his trunk, but he’ll understand.”

Humming your acknowledgment, you finally popped open the vial and knocked back its contents, relaxing into the table as the liquid warmed your insides and worked its magic. When Ominis pulled the rag away from your leg, you were pleased to find that the bleeding had subsided significantly, but the skin was torn too deep to fully stitch back together after one dose of Wiggenweld. 

The blond lifted his wand to cast a diagnostic spell, setting the blood-soaked cloth off to the side before a lyrical chant slipped from his lips. Vulnera Sanentur was far from an easy spell to cast– much less master– but Ominis did it without a second thought, never once lifting his head as he expertly worked to mend your skin. You knew that he had taken to studying healing magic after your sixth-year, but you hadn’t actually seen Ominis use any of what he’d learned until now. The feeling of your skin pulling together was strange, but not uncomfortable, and you watched wide-eyed as the gaping wound closed up and left only a faint, pink scar behind. 

“When did you become so proficient with healing spells?” You asked him as he stood straight, summoning a few Dittany leaves into the palm of his hand. He twisted them between his fingers and wafted the scent towards his face before holding them out to you. 

“Around the same time you and Sebastian started using yourselves as shields in Crossed Wands. Now hold these on top of the area for a bit, otherwise the scar will linger,” he instructed you matter-of-factly, and his stern tone made your shoulders sag. You truly hated it when he was upset with you. 

“I really am sorry, Ominis.” You muttered remorsefully as you accepted the leaves, and his brows pinched together at the sound of your dejected tone. “I didn’t mean to upset you with all of this–”

“I’m getting rather tired of sitting idly by while you throw yourself into danger. What is it going to take for you to realize that what you’re doing is incredibly careless? What happens when the next spell hits a little higher and kills you, hm? What would I do then?” His frustration rolled off of him in thick, potent waves that made your stomach churn with anxiety.

“Ominis please, I know you care about me, but there are things I’m obligated to do– especially as a wielder of this ancient magic. No one else can do what I can–” 

“I really don’t care about everyone else,” he practically growled the statement and closed the miniscule space between the two of you so that he could brace his arms on either side of your hips, caging you between his long, lithely muscled arms. “All I care about is you and your wellbeing, but you have this infuriating ability to do the exact opposite of what I ask. Why? Sometimes I get the feeling you see me as more of a chastising parent than your boyfriend.” 

Hearing that made you scowl, “That’s absurd, of course I don’t see you that way. I just hate to worry you with these things–”

“Well, I am worried. I’ve been worried. You used to be more careful about these excursions of yours, but now you’re beyond reckless. You used to listen to reason and now you’re too stubborn for your own good.” His eyes were like burning pools of moonlight, piercing through your very soul as he leaned forward to trail his hand up your arm and across your shoulder. “I have a growing distaste for your rebellious streak. Why must you insist on being so disobedient?” 

Something about the word disobedient had your retort shriveling up in your throat, and your mouth snapped shut with an audible clack of teeth while your eyes flickered between Ominis’. His expression was drawn tight, but there was something else there– something domineering about the way he spoke to you. You’d seen this side of Ominis before, but it had been a long time since you’d actually done anything that worked him into such a state. Uncertainty washed over you like a bucket of cold water, and you swallowed around a lump in your throat. 

Ominis’ hand on your shoulder continued to rise, the tips of his fingers ghosting over your clammy skin until they splayed outwards and he was holding you loosely by the neck. There was no helping your startled gasp at the brazen move, and you stared wide-eyed up at him as your nails dug into the surface of the table. Your silence was palpable, as was the shiver that coursed through you, and Ominis acknowledged both of those things with a taunting smirk. 

“What, nothing to say now? Has it sunk in? Have I finally gotten through that ironclad head of yours?” 

You honestly didn’t know what the hell was going on in your head. Things had shifted so suddenly that now instead of feeling remorseful for aggravating your boyfriend, you were keenly interested in seeing what treatment you’d won yourself by doing so. “I-I’m sorry, Ominis–” 

He tightened his hand briefly to angle your head to the side, pulling another gasp from your parted lips, and he hunched forward to nuzzle his face into the crook of your exposed neck. You could feel his lips smiling against your pulse, betraying exactly what he had in mind for you, and you whimpered pitifully under him. 

“I didn’t ask if you were sorry, I asked if I made myself clear; I don’t like you putting yourself in harm's way, but I especially loathe it when you try to keep things from me.” You felt the pinprick of his nails digging into the soft skin below your jaw– not overbearingly tight– but it made you acutely aware of the placement of every one of his fingers, and the sensation had your heart skipping beats one after another. 

“I know, I understand,” you whispered, your voice airy and fleeting. “I wasn’t going out of my way to keep secrets– I just came here to take care of my leg, I wasn’t expecting you to be waiting for me–”

His teeth nipped at the skin of your neck, pulling another gasp from your throat and cutting your rebuttal short  “Would you have told me about it if I hadn’t caught you slinking in here tonight?” 

“E-Eventually–” you started to say, and in a flash Ominis was pulling away from you to glare fixedly in your direction. His grip on your throat stayed gentle but firm as he angled your face back to his, and one of your own hands finally shot up from the surface of the table to wrap around his slender wrist. 

“No lying,” he hissed, nearing closer so that his lips were mere inches away from yours. “You and I both know you would sooner tangle with Devil’s Snare before telling me you’ve been galavanting through the Highlands taking on dark wizards by yourself.”

“I would have,” you bit back at him, the conviction in your tone making him draw pause. “Maybe I would have omitted a few details, but yes, I would have told you. I don’t make a habit of not telling you things.”

“And yet, here we are.” The ghost of his breath danced across your lips, your mind flooding with unrestrained fantasies and ideas that were made all the more potent at the feeling of his thumb brushing against the curve of your jaw. “Sometimes I feel like the only way to keep you out of trouble would be to restrain you and lock you away in your bedroom. At least then I could make sure you stay safe.” 

You hated arguing with Ominis. You despised making him doubt your sincerity. It made you anxious anytime you knew he was upset with you, in large part because he got angry with you so rarely. But right now, an offhand comment like that was doing more to frazzle you and fuel a slew of unholy thoughts that had no business existing at the same time he was scolding you. 

What the fuck was wrong with you? 

Ominis elected to release his hold on your throat at that moment, jarring you from your thoughts, and he dropped the appendage to your thigh. Your breathing hitched when he trailed his palm lightly over where your wound had been minutes earlier, and he shook his head disapprovingly at you. The scar was still evident under his touch– the Dittany leaves he’d given you still gripped loosely in your fist, unused. 

“How does your leg feel? Any other wounds I need to know about?” He asked you, almost somewhat… cunningly. 

The sudden change in topic wasn’t unusual, but it was the way he presented the question that made you pause before answering. You decided to humor him and testingly lifted your knee, pleased to find that doing so didn’t cause you burning pain any longer. “No, and it’s a lot better actually. Thank you.”

He seemed to contemplate his next words carefully, his wand-bearing hand sliding up your forearm to lightly grasp your elbow as the other skirted higher up your leg, stopping to toy with the frayed fabric of your torn trousers. “Don’t thank me yet. Come with me.”

In a flash, Ominis had tugged you off of the table, his grip on your arm like a vice as he began leading you further into the Room. “Ah– Merlin, Ominis, what are you doing?” You nearly tripped over your own feet, but the blond’s unrelenting hold on you kept you upright as he pulled you behind him down the narrow staircase that led to the larger portion of the vast chamber. 

“Such simple instructions and yet you fail to follow them,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. “At this point, I’m convinced you’re doing it on purpose to get a rise out of me, so consider this your punishment.”

Ominis knew exactly where to steer you when he reached the bottom step– with or without his wand– and the nervousness you felt was greatly overshadowed by the ripe anticipation that blossomed in your gut. He threw his shoulder against the door to the bedroom to shove it open before hauling you through the entryway, immediately getting to work to show you exactly what sort of ‘punishment’ he had in mind. 

—

“Stop whining and use your words.” 

Ominis’ sharp voice cut off your guttural moan, and he removed his hand from your throbbing core once again, killing your building release for the nth time tonight. You couldn’t help it; you sobbed at the loss. The imposing blond man leaned forward, whispering his response along your jaw slowly and playfully nipping at the skin as he moved down. “The sooner you apologize, the sooner we can cease this incessant game.” 

You’d been here for some time already, sprawled out on your shared bed in the Room of Requirement with Ominis circling you like a hawk. Every so often he would elect to touch you again, giving you a modicum of reprieve from the burning tension between your legs, but not before pulling his fingers away right as you were on the cusp of your climax. The two of you had been going at it for close to an hour now, and it was suffice to say you were losing your fucking mind. 

Your wrists had been tied snug together and bound above your head, rendering your hands useless as your boyfriend toyed with you to his heart’s content. You were a flushed, panting mess underneath him, hopelessly writhing against the sheets in search of more of anything. The ache between your legs was tantamount to torture.

As you drew your knees together in a feeble attempt to create some friction for yourself, Ominis felt you fidgeting and sat up to stop you in your tracks. His long, elegant fingers gripped both of your legs and spread them apart, leaving you fully exposed to him as a throaty whine sounded from your lips. 

“Please, Ominis–” your raspy voice cracked on his name, drawing a dark chuckle from him that sent a thrill down your spine. 

“I don’t know why you’re begging when you know you should be apologizing,” he chidded you, tilting his head to the side to cast a taunting look in your direction. “I know what you want, but what about what I want?” 

“I-I already said I was sorry,” you gritted through your teeth, momentarily grateful that Ominis couldn’t see the piercing glare you fixed him with. How many times did he want you to say it? “What more do you want me to do?” 

He moved into your space so fast, it made you gasp and press harder into the mattress. His eyes were stormy and swimming with emotion as he growled, “I want you to mean it. Every word. Apologize for keeping secrets and for making me worry– then you can start begging me to come.”

Ominis brought his hands to your chest to drag his blunt nails lightly down your front, stopping the appendages over your pert nipples to pinch the sensitive buds, and your stuttered apology caught in your throat at the feeling. “Hah– I am sorry Ominis, I really am. I’m sorry I scared you, I’ll tell you everything from now on– n-no more secrets– ah–”

The wet warmth of Ominis’ mouth came over one of your nipples, followed by the sharp sting of his teeth clamping down, and it had you moaning and arching into him further. You heard his throaty laugh, blearily lifting your head in an attempt to get a better look at him, but he was already moving back to sit on his heels with his hands tracing burning circles on your legs.  

“Hm, that sounds better,” Ominis murmured down at you, trailing his fingers tentatively over the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. You had half a mind to shift your hips closer to him– desperate to finally have your release after so long– but you knew doing so would just set you back even further. The urge to please Ominis any way you could was bone deep, so you fought down the desire to move, remaining a twitching, keening mess atop the sheets. 

“Please,” you whined softly, tugging pathetically on the rope bindings around your wrists. “I want you so badly Ominis, gods– I want you to fuck me, make me cum for you. P-Please, Ominis, please.” 

He didn’t respond at first, his hands stilling against your legs as he swallowed around the lump in his throat. You sounded divine begging for him like this. It almost made him want to cave early and finally give you what you wanted… but that would be too easy, especially considering it was your sneaking around that had landed the two of you in this position in the first place. 

No, he intended on playing with you a little while longer before wrapping things up. 

“You know I like taking my time,” Ominis purred down at you, and there was no missing the teasing undertone to his voice. 

The tension in your gut seemed to worsen in that instant, and you honestly could have cried. 

Ominis’ hands left your thighs to brace on either side of you as he leaned forward, a predatory glint in his milky blue eyes. His head dropped into the hollow of your throat, flicking the tip of his clever tongue against your pulse before licking a broad stripe down the vulnerable column of your neck. You shuddered at the bold move, whimpering at the expression he bore when he pulled back to smooth down your hair affectionately. 

“So I will take my time fucking you, and you’d best believe I’ll have you screaming my name so loud you won’t be able to speak afterwards. I’ll bend you in half– fuck you so hard that we break the damn bed– and you know what?” 

It took you a second to realize he was asking you a question, but the most coherent response you could muster was a soft whine. It was enough. 

“When you’re shaking under me, fucked out and sensitive from finally getting to come…” Ominis smiled, licking his lips as he bent forward again to whisper devilishly in your ear, “I’ll keep fucking you, hard and fast until you’re brainless and drooling and all you can think about or say is my name.” 

You were positive you were already brainless. The filthy, wicked promises dripping from Ominis’ mouth left plenty to the imagination, and you were a damn good visualizer. With a low growl, he sank his teeth into the curve of your shoulder, biting and sucking an angry mark into your clammy skin. You moaned in earnest, all too pleased to finally be moving forward with things. You didn’t think you’d ever wanted to come so bad in your fucking life. 

When Ominis pulled away, you half expected him to start marking up the other side of your neck, but instead he backed off to shift around and swing one of his knees over your bare chest. He held himself precariously over you, refraining from smothering you with his body weight, and in doing so you were faced with Ominis’ straining, confined arousal mere inches from your lips. You huffed out a needy breath. 

“Be a good girl and take it out,” he instructed, a coy smirk stretching across his face.

You squinted up at him then, giving the rope around your wrists a pointed tug, and he felt the motion reverberate through your prone form. He only laughed at you, shifting slightly to rub his clothed erection against your lips teasingly. 

“Use your mouth if you can’t use your hands.” 

It took you a second, but when you finally understood, your mouth parted on a long, low moan as your hips wriggled excitedly. Taking a moment to collect yourself, you drew in a deep breath before zeroing in on the catch of your boyfriend’s trousers. You surged forward and dragged your tongue up the thick outline of his cock, tracing along his undoubtedly uncomfortable arousal until you were kissing your way up the fly to the button. 

Ominis just listened, half amused and half extremely turned on as you struggled to figure out your plan of attack. You nuzzled briefly against his groin before throwing caution to the wind and deciding to just go for it. Hooking your front teeth over the edge of the fabric above the button, you absolutely allowed them to scrape over Ominis’ light happy trail, relishing in the shiver it drew from him. You tugged the material down, and with a helpful push of your tongue, you managed to get the button through the catch. 

You didn’t bother to hide your excitement; a giddy noise weasled it’s way past your lips, and you grinned smugly to yourself. Ever the perceptive one, Ominis felt his waistband loosen and gently raked his fingers through your mused hair in silent praise. That was the extent of his congratulations, though, before he was tugging on the strands softly to urge you towards the significantly easier zipper. You caught the thin bit of metal between the tip of your canine and clenched your teeth, dipping your head to pull it down, and your victory was marked by the barely there sigh that snuck out of Ominis’ parted lips. 

The blond elected to take pity on you then, sitting up on his knees just enough so that he could shove his trousers and briefs down around his hips. His fingers moved slower when he got to the front of his waist, tilting his head to the side before carefully peeling the restrictive fabric away from his groin, and his cock sprung free and arched proudly against his taut stomach. Taking himself in his hands, Ominis shamelessly angled his cock towards you and slapped the leaking head against your cheek a few times, leaving a streak of pre-come across your face that you feebly tried to lick away, to no avail. 

You nestled fervently against his shaft, your enthusiasm palpable and more than enough to make Ominis’ head spin. He was positive he wasn’t meant to be feeling such warm fuzzies when he was supposed to be wrecking you as punishment. 

Then again, you’d been a little too interested in his idea of payback earlier, so nothing was really going according to plan when he thought long and hard about it.  

“Ominis,” you breathed, dragging his attention back to you restrained between his legs. Your soft lips brushed against the head of his cock then, your quick tongue flicking gently at the sensitive slit, and the sensation had him shivering as his breathing kicked up in anticipation. “Can I suck your cock?” 

“I thought I answered that question already,” Ominis murmured, nudging his hips forward so he could smear warm pre-come all along your flushed lips. Your tongue darted out to lick at the slick trail, staring up at him with such intensity that you were certain he could feel your eyes on him. “You want it?” You nodded, licking your lips again as you tried leaning up to run your tongue over the head, but Ominis chose that moment to pull back just out of your reach. The whine that fell from your mouth was like music to his ears, and Ominis felt you begin wiggling your hips impatiently. 

There it was. Ominis’ goal was to work you into a needy, frantic mess— he wanted you begging and moaning for him until he was sure he had shattered your composure entirely, and somehow he had a feeling that was what you wanted too. 

Ominis’ fingers spread through your unruly hair and tightened a fraction as he pulled your head towards him, using his free hand to angle his impressive length towards your mouth. “Open.” 

He could feel and hear your hot breaths against his achingly hard cock as you stuck your tongue out in invitation, and Ominis couldn’t help the sharp pang of lust that shot through him at the way you just… obeyed him. It was exactly what he’d wanted from the moment you walked into the Room tonight. 

Breathing a quiet laugh, he went ahead and slapped the slick head of his member against your tongue, hissing softly when you immediately swirled the muscle around the head to lap up the copious amounts of pre-come he was already dripping with. The lewd, wet sounds coming from you beneath him were enough to leave Ominis twitching between your lips against his better judgment, and he tipped his head back as he lost himself in the blissful strokes of your perfect tongue. 

“Ominis,” you breathed after a minute, your lips brushing lightly against his cock entirely purposefully. “Please fuck my mouth.”

Merlin.

He needed a fucking second to process that, his eyes widening up at the ceiling at the same time a predatory grin split your face. The shock was quickly buried, however, and Ominis regained some semblance of control when he tilted his head down at you and tightened his hold against your scalp. “Hm, I don’t know. Have you been good enough to get your mouth and your cunt fucked?” 

You squeezed your eyes shut, chills breaking out all over your skin as a shudder coursed through you. Ominis loved being able to feel your physical reactions to his words, and he smiled despite himself. He was willing to bet that if he checked, you would be unbearably wet between your legs, staining the sheets preemptively with pooling slick. 

“You don’t think so?” You asked him, voice low with arousal. 

“It’s debatable,” Ominis moved back again, easily dodging your attempts to take him back in your mouth with an annoying smirk. “You’ve been pulling at the ropes for a while now, I can hear the fibers rubbing together.” 

You flexed your fingers on cue, your brows furrowing as you shook your head. “I was only shifting.” 

“Oh? How am I to know if you’re telling the truth?” 

Ominis languidly stroked himself with a degree of confidence that made your mouth water. Your eyes flicked down to his cock, any ounce of shame evaporating from your body as you wet your lips and forced yourself to remain well behaved. “You’ll just have to trust me.” 

“That’s unscientific– and also highly unlikely given the circumstances. How about this; you know I’ll always inevitably get the truth out of you one way or another. I’ll fuck your mouth, but if you’re lying to me, that’s all you get. All night.” 

Your jaw dropped, utterly appalled by the threat, and your drawn out silence told Ominis that you had absolutely been fibbing– but he just flashed you a sly grin as he continued to lazily work his hand up and down his shaft. He let you mull his words over, noting your audible gulp before you were muttering under your breath, “Honest witches have nothing to hide.” 

“Alright then,” Ominis hummed in amusement, sitting forward on his knees once again. “Open up, sweetheart.” 

You did so all too eagerly– ecstatic when Ominis finally guided his cock into your mouth, the wet heat making him groan low in his throat, and the sound got louder when you moaned and closed your lips around him firmly. 

Fuck.

Ominis slid deeper into your mouth, over your wet tongue, then oh– into your throat, and you had more than enough experience to be able to relax and take his cock nearly to the base. His thighs shook on either side of you, his hands finding their way back to your hair to hold you in place, and you took the liberty of hollowing your cheeks around him and swallowing. 

“Bloody hell,” Ominis moaned, his eyes pinching shut at the blissful feeling as he rocked his hips back. He moved just enough for you to be able to breathe, but after nearly an hour of dealing with his erection pressed uncomfortably against his trousers, that was about the extent of his patience. 

He got to work setting a steady rhythm, sliding his cock in and out of your incredible mouth, your tongue, hollowed cheeks, and the tiny movements of your head enough to leave him gasping your name. Your eyes were glued to him– unable to help but watch as a bright flush started to creep up the neckline of Ominis’ shirt and spread over his angular cheeks. In the heat of the moment, the urge to run your hands up his torso came over you, but the rope around your wrists stopped you in your tracks, making you whine around your mouthful. Ominis sighed and sped up some, encouraged by your muffled noises and the unrelenting, insane ministrations of your tongue against the underside of his cock. 

Ominis grew braver and rolled his hips perfectly in time with the shallow bobbing of your head, the tip of his shaft sliding into your throat for just a moment, and your choked moan betrayed exactly how much you liked it. Your whines turned pleading as you quickly adjusted to the intrusion, half brainless with need as you worked to pleasure Ominis the best that you could. The hand he had curled around your disheveled strands of hair moved your head in sync with his hips, giving you a small bit of leeway to angle your neck otherwise if you so chose, but you planned to do no such thing. 

“F-Feels so good, darling,” Ominis grit through his teeth, letting his head fall forward as waves of rapture danced down his spine. You made a throaty sound in response, your sucking growing sloppier with Ominis’ rushed bucking, but that was the farthest thing from a problem in his mind. The messy, wet sounds from his cock slipping out of your mouth before you greedily swallowed him down again were fucking addictive. 

It was all too easy to let himself be overcome with the sheer euphoria that came with being encased in your mouth, but the incessant, growing fire in his gut was becoming too much to bear. He was getting dangerously close, and he hadn’t spent all that time with his fingers buried in your cunt to ignore it entirely now. So as much as it pained him to, he shook the desire to come from his mind and tugged your head back. You pulled off of his cock with a shaky breath, thick strands of saliva and precome dangling between your lips and the swollen head. 

He hardly waited before he was shuffling down your body to give himself the space to start undressing, beginning with the top buttons of his shirt– and if you spent a little too long watching his deft fingers skirt down the row of clasps, he certainly didn’t need to know about it. The shirt fell open, revealing his smooth, pale chest, and he shrugged it off his toned shoulders without looking away from your spot on the bed. It never failed to make your stomach flip– how he always managed to zero in on your presence no matter where you were. 

With some impressive side stepping, Ominis shed his trousers and briefs together, kicking the offensive attire away from the edge of the bed so he could crawl back to you undeterred. He felt his way up your body, goosebumps breaking out over your skin in the wake of his fingers, and when he found your lips, he was leaning down to crush his mouth against yours in a heated kiss. He swallowed your mewls and gasps easily while he slid one hand up your raised arms to the rope around your wrists, running his fingers along the edge of the restraints in silent question.

“Leave it for now,” you whispered against his plush lips, and he smirked. “I like this.” 

Your voice was still rough from swallowing his cock, and the blond couldn’t help but notice— a spark of arousal shooting through him as he nodded and kissed you again. The two of you stayed like that for a moment, breathing hot against one another as your hearts raced in time and pulled you both away from the desperate precipice you’d been riding. 

“You’re shaking, love.” Ominis observed, feeling the small tremors reverberate through your body against his own. His hand trailed back down your arms while the other stayed propped under him, giving him better leverage to lean over you and press a chaste kiss to your temple. “I think you’ve more than made up for everything by now, what about you? Want me to take care of you? Will you be good for me?”

“Yes,” you rasped out, sounding ten different kinds of seductive without even knowing it. Ominis swallowed thickly, tensing when he felt you writhe in place against the mattress, your hips ever so gently brushing against his throbbing cock. “Please Ominis, I’ll be good– I promise– I’ll do whatever you want–” 

He silenced you with a suffocating kiss, fucking his tongue into your mouth and rendering your brain a useless pile of mush as he splayed his fingers around the curve of your jaw. It left you entirely at his mercy as he practically stole your breath from your lungs, licking and biting at your lips until they were swollen and throbbing, and your nails dug fitfully into your palms in response to the mounting pressure between your legs. 

“You sound so pretty when you beg, love. So eager to please,” he whispered against your mouth in-between kisses. “So I’ll fuck you, but you can’t come until I say so. Understood?” 

There was a good chance you were about to combust. 

You didn’t think you were going to last long with Ominis’ cock inside of you, but if telling him that ran the risk of not getting fucked, you would rather say nothing. Still, your displeasure was voiced in the form of a pained groan, and your frustrated sigh against your boyfriend’s lips dutifully conveyed your feelings on the matter to him. 

“Don’t complain. Here I thought you were going to be good for me,” Ominis mused sarcastically, obviously teasing you with the promise of being filled up. “I never did find out… were you behaving earlier?” 

Dammit. You couldn’t stop the whine that ripped from your throat as you tried to duck your head out of Ominis’ unrelenting grip, to no avail. His hold on your jaw stayed firm, forcing your eyes to remain glued to him while he unabashedly rolled his cock against the curve of your hip– as though to remind you of his earlier promise. 

“You weren’t, were you.” It wasn’t a question. You licked your lips, honestly considering your options when Ominis angled your head to the side to nuzzle his face in the crook of your neck. “Don’t you dare lie. If you tell me the truth, I won’t be mean to you.”

Your eyes slid shut, minutely shifting your hips towards the tantalizing feeling of Ominis’ cock pressed against your hip, before you shook your head and choked out a meek, “No.”

“Hm, of course not,” he murmured playfully, biting at the shell of your ear, then your neck, and he moaned softly when you tilted your head further to the side to offer more of yourself to him. “But I already knew that. Better late than never, I suppose.” 

In a flash, Ominis had released your face and was sitting back on his heels, gathering your knees together so he could pin them to the side and give himself better access to your ass. Before you could question him, he brought his free hand down and landed a good, echoing slap against the sensitive skin of your rear, leaving you arching helplessly off of the sheets with a wanton moan. With your wrists still bound, all you could do was flail your legs in Ominis’ hold, but his broad hand kept them pressed against the sheets– forcing you to bear the sting for a moment before he was soothing the spot with his warm palm. 

“O-Ominis–” 

You were cut off as he spanked you again, a shrill cry ripping from your lips as your spine rounded in your feeble attempts to escape, but Ominis held you in place despite your writhing. “Is that enough of a warning? Do you promise to be good?” 

“Y-Yes, yes, Ominis, please–” 

The pressure on your knees let up as Ominis shifted you back into your original position, only this time he nestled himself between your trembling legs with the heavy head of his cock dragging deliciously over your incredibly slick entrance. He slipped his hand under the crook of one of your knees, bending it back to give himself more room to rock his hips as he said, “I hope so.” 

“Please, don’t tease me anymore, Ominis– I can’t take it,” you gasped out your pleas, cracking your bleary eyes open to gaze up at the striking man towering over you. Those luminescent, unseeing eyes of his were seemingly alight behind the messy strands of blond hair that fell forward in his face, and the positively immoral expression he bore had you repeating his name like a broken mantra that filled him with renewed vigor. 

Ominis stifled a moan, biting the inside of his cheek as he finally pressed into you, and he let his eyes roll back at the feeling while you groaned with unrestrained contentment. You were fucking beside yourself, your hands twisting fitfully in your restraints as you let out a long, stuttered string of words that didn’t properly form, and by the time Ominis was fully sheathed inside of you, your patience had run out. 

“Merlin, Ominis,” your head flew back against the pillows, pathetically rocking your hips back in search of more, because his shallow grinding wasn’t going to begin to cut it. You craved this– you needed to get fucked through the bed, needed for Ominis to rail you like the world was ending– you needed more. “Ominis!” 

“F-Fuck, sweetheart,” He wheezed out, hugging your leg to his torso as he panted heavily from how unbelievably tight you were, and how incredible you felt. Part of him wanted to be gentle with you– to roll his hips smoothly and evenly to build you up slowly and perfectly– but Ominis knew what you wanted. Even if he didn’t, you took it upon yourself to educate him with your next breath.

“Ominis, fuck me, please,” you were practically sobbing, rutting down onto his cock with what little movement you could muster on your back. “Come on, fuck me– please just fuck me already– please, please, ah–”

Getting you this worked up took no small amount of effort. Ominis took immense pride in the mess he’d made of you for a brief moment, sighing when you squeezed tighter around his cock and moaned his name again. “You sound so fucking good, love,” he hummed, giving you a slow little grind that left you overcome with urgency. “I told you I’d take care of you.” 

Before you even had time to moan in response, Ominis was readjusting his grip on your leg, shifting the one still against the sheets further to the side so he had more room at his disposal when he pulled back and fucking rammed his cock back into you.

He didn’t waste any time in keeping up this way, either. 

You were utterly delirious. 

Ominis fucked you so hard and so fast, it seemed like it shouldn’t even be possible. The slap of his hips against your ass reverberated loudly off the stone walls of the bedroom, but it was overshadowed completely by how loud you were screaming. 

It was everything you’d wanted. Probably more so, because Ominis was fucking railing into you with some insane stamina, breathing loud moans of his own, gasping your name, and you couldn’t even find the brain power to beg for more. Every time he pulled back and left you nearly empty, he was fucking you open again with the force of his cock, jolting you up the bed until you were bracing your bound hands against the headboard and utilizing your newfound leverage to push back onto him. 

Ominis allowed you to rut against him for a few thrusts– enough to appreciate the lush sound of your ass bouncing against his hips– until the urge to take you over completely filled him. He moaned then, the noise low and savage, and he moved so that he was leaning over you with the knee he’d been holding flung haphazardly over his shoulder. Pressing into you further, you gave a whimpered protest at having your efforts cut short, but Ominis ignored you entirely in favor of spreading you wider to accommodate his larger frame. 

With you pinned beneath him in complete possession, Ominis wasted little time in fucking you harder, faster– his long thrusts switching to deep, hammering ruts that drove the head of his cock clean past your sweet spot so intensely that it damn near knocked you out. 

If you could use words at all, you would have tried to warn Ominis that you were about to come. There was no fucking way you couldn’t. You were so full of his cock, your throat raw from screaming, and you were being held down and fucked like you were merely a toy with your hands grasping pointlessly at air. 

You felt Ominis before you heard him when he loomed over you to groan hot in your ear, his cock reaching deeper and hitting you even better than before, and when you were right there– tense and tight and wailing Ominis’ name over and over– he fucking growled his warning against your temple, and you broke down and sobbed. 

“Don’t you dare come.”

Your noisy, brainless pleas fell on deaf ears as your boyfriend continued owning you, never letting up as he kept you pinned to the bed and chased his own pleasure. You were close– so fucking close that you didn’t know what to do with yourself besides cry and hope to whatever Gods existed that Ominis would have mercy on you. 

Pulling at the ropes around your wrists frantically, your garbled cries blurred together in a barely intelligible string of ‘please’s at the same time it started to hurt from how long you’d been on the cusp of your climax. Tears streaked down your face, frustration and desperation and too much pleasure twining together with the pain of holding back, and before you could figure out what was happening, Ominis was looping one of his arms under your back. He tugged you so you were arched towards him, your front held flush to his chest as he bent you precariously upwards, all the while maintaining his unrelenting pace. 

“Come on, darling, come for me,” Ominis urged you, his hot breath ghosting over your sweat-slick skin and making you shiver with delight for a multitude of reasons. He planted his feet firmly against the bed, bucking his hips up with a precision that left you boneless in his arms while he slammed his cock right into that mind-numbing spot so perfectly, and then you couldn’t hold back anymore. 

Your orgasm was earth-shattering. 

The world seemed to flash a brilliant white around you, making you oblivious to everything in existence but the guttural moans slipping from Ominis above you, and for a good, long minute, your mind simply halted. You were vaguely aware of yourself gasping as he stilled his movements, having the good grace to remain idly in place while his gentle hands willed you to relax. 

“I have never heard you scream that loud,” Ominis groaned, sounding equal parts wonderstruck and pained– which probably had everything to do with his still-hard cock twitching inside of you. He gingerly lowered your prone body down onto the mattress, relishing in the weak, fucked out whimper the action pulled from you. “Are you alright?” 

You tried saying yes, but it came out sounding more like a croak than a reassurance. Ominis chuckled darkly, sliding his hands down to your hips as though he were about to pull out, but your shaky legs wrapping around his slender waist stopped him in his tracks, and the movement had him choking on your name as he pressed down to hold you still. 

“You want me to keep going?” Ominis asked, his voice incredibly tight and strained from the way your pulsing walls squeezed around his cock again. 

This time, you managed to get your tongue to obey your brain and formulate a full sentence. “Y-Yeah, please Ominis. I want you to fill me up, please keep going.”

Ominis’ head fell forward, his fingers digging into the skin of your waist for a modicum of restraint. The tone of your voice was seriously doing him in, as was the way you seemed to suck him in deeper with your legs. “You have to tell me if it’s too much.” 

You made a tiny sound of agreement before melting back into the mattress as Ominis’ hand slid up your thigh, lingering for a moment on the tiny scar you’d failed to heal earlier. He said nothing of it though, instead leaning down to kiss you hungrily before taking advantage of your legs coiled around his back, rocking into your tight heat once again. 

The stark contrast between his earlier pace and his current one was almost dizzying. Ominis’ possessive snarls gave way to worshiping moans, and the hands that had previously pinned you down now reverently trailed up your torso to lovingly run his fingers up your chest, then your neck, and finally over your tear stained cheeks. It felt incredible; his cock moved so perfectly inside of you while his hands pressed and soothed whatever part of your body they could make contact with, but his restraint was still there. He had to be going insane– you’d been at this for an eternity, and he still hadn’t gotten to come yet. If his strained moans and trembling hips were any indication, he was holding back big time. 

“Ominis,” you murmured, forcing him into you harder with your legs, and the drawn out groan he let slip reflected his need all too well. “Come on, Ominis, please. I can take it.” 

“Fuck–” he blurted, his tempo faltering for a second before he braced one of his hands beside your head to once again pull nearly all the way out. When he snapped his hips forward again, he filled you with a hard thrust and ground into you so fiercely, the friction against your clit made your spine round off the bed with a keening moan. 

His gentle, easy pace fell away– his breath fanning warmly against your cheek as he kept up his firm, grinding thrusts. By some impossible miracle, you felt a familiar heat building in the pit of your stomach, your pleasure being drawn out of you for the second time all too easily. You were still overwhelmingly sensitive from earlier, and it allowed you to feel everything Ominis gave you even more vehemently. 

Ominis elected to drop his hand from your cheek down to your clit, rubbing tight, titillating circles over the nub as he continued spreading you open on his cock, and your scratchy voice filled the room as you threw your head back to wail for him. It felt too good– too perfect. You didn’t even know such euphoria existed, much less that your boyfriend could bestow it upon you so thoroughly. 

“Gods, I can feel you– are you close again?” Ominis buried his face in your neck to whine against your sweaty skin, barely maintaining his rhythm any longer– just desperate to feel you around him. “I’m so close– fuck.” 

“Yes, yes,” you croaked, wanting so badly to wrap your arms around his shoulders and curl around him like a second skin, but the rope around your wrists denied you, and your arms ached from the position they’d been left in for so long. “Me too– please Ominis, please– me too.” You threw your head back with a gasping cry as Ominis bucked harder into you, his hands grabbing and pulling at you as your combined sounds spiked higher and louder the closer you got. 

When Ominis finally came, he sank his teeth into the marred expanse of your shoulder, biting down to stifle the string of curses that threatened to spill from his mouth. The sharp pain intermingled with the burning pleasure between your legs, and that was as much as you could bear before you were falling over the edge with him. 

Ominis’ body tensed, his hips grinding into you as you twitched and gasped under him, and the rich feeling of him emptying deep inside brought you to new heights you’d never experienced before. He spent an ample amount of time just whimpering against your pulse, wrapping his arms around your waist to hold you tight to him. His lips parted on a soft moan when you held him back best you could using your legs, and he brought one hand out from under you to follow your shaky arms up to the headboard. You felt a telling tug on the rope around your wrists, and in a heartbeat Ominis had expertly undone the knot that tied you to the bedframe. 

As much as you wanted to wrap your arms around him, the appendages were practically useless. You felt pins and needles dancing down your shoulders, which didn’t do anything to help with your hyper-sensitivity. But all in all, you’d never felt so satisfied in your fucking life, and you turned your head to press your lips against Ominis’ messy head of hair graciously. 

He shuddered at the feeling, lifting his head to gaze affectionately in the direction of your soft breathing. “Are you alright, love?” 

You hummed contentedly and nodded, flinching ever so slightly when you felt Ominis slide out of your overstimulated walls. He bent down to claim your lips in a heated kiss, chasing away any lingering tension in your body as he ran his hands down your sides dotingly. 

“You were so good for me, darling… so well behaved. You sounded so pretty falling apart on my cock,” he whispered his praises against your mouth, making you whimper, and you felt his expression twist into a smug smirk against your parted lips. “No more secrets, though. The next time you want me to fuck you senseless, you need only ask.” 

You agreed embarrassingly fast, vowing to forever voice every last whisper that crossed your mind from this moment forth. Especially if it meant garnering treatment like this more often. What other sinful secrets was Ominis hiding from you? 

As sore and achy as you were, a very big, very shameless part of you seriously couldn’t wait to find out. 

#ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x you #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis gaunt x female! reader #ominis gaunt smut #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fanfic #ominis gaunt oneshot #dominis #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #my writing #longest and most depraved thing I've written thus far to be completely blunt #I'll see myself out now

[draeisgrayte]

NSFW ReHEARsal | Sanemi Shinazugawa

Word count: 774

A/n: a little thingy I just whipped together :) I don't think I've ever written for Sanemi baby all by himself, though now that I'm thinking about it I did have an idea I need to get back to for him BECAUSE LOOK AT HIS FACE!! LOOK. AT. IT. Mans could be into MLP rp and there I'd be, princess Celestia and everything... anyway 🩷 Love youuuuu

You could hear the steady melody of a piano piece as Sanemi dug his nails into the meaty flesh of your waist. “Fuck, how come you always feel so,” His eyes roll shut, a gruff moan gliding from his mouth. “Perfect.” He hisses out. You’d answer him if you had rational thought. His cock was rubbing against your entrance and the way it made your skin vibrate with hungry sensations could make someone faint and, only to think of him while unconscious. He wouldn't allow that to happen though, not right before you had to get your pretty self on stage.

It was cramped in the costume closet, but he managed to position you perfectly behind a few racks of clothes. You were frightened the stench of sex would permeate the pretty dresses forever when Sanemi dragged you back here. There was no going back now – not after he’d stripped you of your short skirt, the one you’d worn just to rile him up. It had worked, maybe a little too well considering the moment the student director had told you both to go run lines, you ended up here. Sanemi was going to run, run his tongue through your pussy.

His rough hand grabs onto your chin, guiding your face toward his. “Don’t drift off on me just yet sweetheart.” His lips tick upward in a smirk and a whimper escapes from your throat. “I want you to feel every last drop.” He hums, letting go of you with so much force your head snaps the other way. 

Sanemi pretended to be impenetrable, but if there was one thing you learned from working with him – it was that he was the most gentle person you’d ever met. His hand glides up the plush skin of your stomach, pausing to pinch at your already stiff nipples. “Always so willing for me,” He kisses your shoulder blade and you can feel the smugness of his words bouncing off your back. His hand gropes and travels up to the base of your throat. Two fingers apply pressure – the feeling is almost too much. Your nerves feel shot from the amount of teasing he’d put you through. He must sense how restless you are because his free hand dips down to your clit – using his thumb to rub lazy circles around it. A loud broken moan shoots from your lips and before you can flush at the volume his fingers squeeze harder on your throat. “S’posed to be quiet.” 

Your head falls back to his firm chest, a breathy whine vibrating out. He chuckles darkly, releasing your throat to move your head gently to the side. His mouth works against your beating pulse, sucking where there weren’t marks already from him. “Don’t want your little friends to find out that you’re fucking your co-lead, hmm?” He coos against your skin, but whatever kindness remained for your plea of secrecy was gone as he pushes two fingers into your begging pussy. “You love it when I touch you, don’t you sweetheart?” When you don’t reply he pushes in deeper, his fingers curling against your walls. Your arms shake with the force of trying not to make a sound. “So quiet now,” He hums, delighted you’ve given him the challenge. 

Your head radiates with a dull throb as you bite down on your bottom lip. “There’s a reason the director gave you the lead role, why don’t you show everyone your beautiful vocals, pretty girl?” His fingers are pumping in and out – a rushing feeling stemming from your heart. His cock wasn’t even inside of you yet, but you were already a mess underneath his touch. 

He’s smirking against your neck, obviously happy with himself for rendering you a useless bundle of limbs. “S-Sanemi,” You whine. “I can’t – hngh – take it,” A sputtering moan interrupts your speech as the tips of his fingers brush against an all too familiar spot for him. 

His lips twist into a huge grin as his lilac eyes gleam. “Found it.” He whispers. Someone was bound to hear you – after all whines and moans were careening from your mouth as you let Sanemi support you with his own body. Your knees felt weak, they were surely going to buckle from the pleasure coursing through your system. “You were sayin’ somethin’ darling?” He purrs. “Too shy to put on a show?” He chuckles, pulling his fingers from your sloppy cunt – bringing them to your lips. With unsaid command your mouth parts, allowing him to run the taste of your arousal over your tongue. “No, that doesn’t sound like you.” He smirks as you suck his fingers greedily into your mouth. “You love the spotlight and I will always shine it on you.”

Of course, if you’d heard him you might’ve thought there was more to this show-mance, but his words were covered up by the hum in your brain. You were ready to let him fuck you against the wall, but the alarm on his phone signals it's time to go back to rehearsal. 

#shinazugawa sanemi #demon slayer sanemi #sanemi smut #sanemi shinazugawa #sanemi x reader #kny sanemi #sanemi shinaguzawa #sanemi x you #kny smut #demon slayer x y/n #demon slayer fic #demon slayer smut

[avelera]

OFMD S2 Meta - Stede's Garbage Self-Worth with regards to Ed is still unresolved

(And I'm so hyped for this plotline)

H'ok! So of all the scenes in episodes 1-3 of OFMD S2, this is the one I've been most hyped to discuss but I've been putting it off a few days so people had at least a little time to watch the new eps.

Gifs are courtesy of @ratchet from this gifset:

Hoooo BOY this is such an interesting scene to unpack! Because to me there's at least 3 levels going on here.

What Lucius hears

What the audience "hears"

What Stede literally said

Thing is, I believe when Stede says, "I'm not ready to believe that," the tone that Lucius hears and that the audience is at least 50/50 expected to hear based on the sort of cadence of the scene is, "I'm not ready to believe that Ed's best days are behind him. I'm going to change that."

But I'm not convinced that's what Stede is saying, what Rhys Darby is portraying, or what is literally on the page.

Literally, on the page, Stede says he's not ready to believe that. And given that Stede is very neurodivergent coded, Rhys is self-confessed autistic, and I believe Rhys is bringing that to his portrayal of Stede, I think we really should look at literal words as written and not just run with they're implied to say. This could be read as a declaration that Stede refuses to accept a reality where Ed's best days are behind him or the literal reading: he still can't process that Ed Teach's time with Stede Bonnet was the best Ed's life is ever going to get.

I believe this is for multiple reasons:

Stede isn't going to throw off a lifetime of low self-esteem and bullying overnight just because he's realized he's in love. Especially when the manner of realizing it (end of S1) was hurting the person he loves pretty badly by abandoning him without a word. He's determined to fix his mistakes but each step of the journey is revealing just how big of a mistake it actually was. Not exactly the stuff of sudden self-confidence and positive self-image change.

It requires a full re-write in Stede's brain of every single assumption he had about his relationship with Ed before their separation. Stede in S1, to my eyes, very much saw himself as the junior partner in the relationship. He saw Ed as taking pity on him, to some extent. He felt blessed to have Ed there. It informed so much of their relationship and it especially informed him taking off when he thought his presence was an active burden on Ed. Basically, what Lucius is saying here attacks the very foundations of Stede's understanding of the happiest part of his life so far. To learn that Ed wasn't just the happiest part of his life, but that he, Stede Bonnet, was the happiest part of Ed's life? Whew. Fuck. Not good. Very not good.

Because it's really not good if he was the happiest part of Ed's life, that he so fundamentally misunderstood their dynamic because of his low self-esteem, that he ended the happiest period of Ed's life without warning, without a note, prematurely, and left Ed with the inescapable conclusion that Stede doesn't care about him.

I think worse, even worse, is that Stede has evidence that Lucius is right that he was the best part of Ed's life. But in S1, we're heavily in Stede's POV and Stede's POV of himself is that he's a joke, pathetic, garbage, lucky to have someone like Ed in his life. But Ed's literal actions, louder than words, are that he chose Stede. He gave up piracy for him. He stayed by him. He offered his life for Stede's. Stede wasn't ready to hear that then, he couldn't hear it over the sound of his own low self-esteem whispering poison in his ear, externalized by the Badmintons (both real and imagined). He took their words as fact, rather than Ed's actions as fact. Reexamining Ed's actions shows just how wrong they were. Just how wrong Stede was. And just how badly he hurt Ed because he didn't listen to Ed, the person he loves, over the voices of his own trauma, self-doubt, or of the Badmintons, people who literally hated Stede.

It's a lot. It's a lot for Stede to take in. He's not there yet. But I love that we've had it said aloud: this is a major plot point still. Stede's end-of-S1 glow-up didn't signal that he's self-confident now enough to realize he might be as good for Ed as Ed is for him. He's still grappling with that. It shatters him to even begin to realize this. They have to work through that still. Stede is ready to start listening but he still doesn't, can't literally can't, believe it just yet. It's just too big.

And I am absolutely salivating to see how the rest of the season deals with this thread.

#our flag means death #ofmd #ofmd spoilers #ofmd meta #stede bonnet #my meta #spoilers

[faraway-archive]

I Finally Saw You Again

Yan!Childhood friend x GN reader

Tw: typical yandere stuff, possession (kinda hinted at)

AN; I should really post their intro post before writing their ficts n' stuff & this has a lot of fluff and not really a lot of yandere-ish. Oopsie. Also put your age on your blog or I will block you <3

˚₊‧꒰ა❤︎໒꒱ ‧₊

It's been a long time since you've last seen your best friend. He has been with you through thick and thin but suddenly had to move away to his parents to find a better job. You hope he's been doing well and that one day you will find him again. You cherish the fond memories as a kid up till high school were his parents decided to go somewhere else. You always wish he had written back since you've seen so many letters but none ever got returned.

And here you are entering college with no traces of him anywhere on social media. You hope nothing has happened to him or his family since they also have gone radio silent on your parents as well. But at least the show must go on and you continue your academic studies.

While you were entering one of your classes, you didn't notice that your childhood best friend was also in your class. You were so absorbed in trying to find the best spot to sit you didn't see his way in the back of the class. Staring at you and fidgeting with his pencil wondering if he should go and talk to you. Biting his lip he decided not to talk to you. Yet. He just watches you from afar. And thus, class started and ended in a blur. He watches you scramble to get to your next class as he casually walks out.

You were here and he couldn't believe it. All this time you've stayed in your home town while he has been away.

After your last class ends, you quickly rush to the dining hall. Dreading the long wait line as everyone else seemed also ended class as well. While waiting you felt a tap on your shoulder and turned around. It was your childhood best friend, Wren. Jumping with joy you hug him and he wraps his arms around you. Once you both let go of your hugs, you realize it is time to enter the dining hall so you quickly grab a seat and wait for Wren to enter in. Soon after you had a lot of time catching up.

"So how have you been Wren? How's your siblings?"

"Things have been well, it was hard adjusting to a new school but I managed. Dove and Robin have been doing well. How have you been doing? Hope you've been doing well. It's nice to see you again," He gives a wink after that last remark.

Blushing from the sudden gesture you replied, "Well I've been doing good as well. I have to ask though, why didn't you respond to my letters?"

Wren taking a bite of his food, "Well, I thought they were being sent to you since I gave them to my parents. But I guess they didn't send it or something came up and it never got to you. Which sucks I will say. Since I thought they were being sent and you just never replied to me. Thought you were ignoring my letters." He softly chuckles at that idea. Either way, he thought, you were going to be his no matter what because he would find you. He would have traveled all over the world to find you because you were the only one who made his heart flutter. You are the reason that he gets out of bed every day because he knows that you are alive.

Taking a sip of your drink you replied, "Well that's strange, I wonder why your parents did that because I was for sure expecting you to ignore me and forget me since, you know, I didn't get any letters back no matter how hard I got them mailed to you. I thought I was going insane."

He hums in response as he continues to eat his food, you on the other hand kept looking at him. You never notice how cute he was or how muscular he has gotten. It's driving you insane with how much he has changed over the years. While staring he can't help but smirk at you looking at him.

"You like what you see darling?"

Taken aback by his words you covered your mouth and quickly stuttered out, "No, I was just admiring the painting behind you. Yeah!"

Softly chuckling at your attempt to hide your reaction, "Ah I see. If you say so."

Quickly finishing your meal you thank him for meeting up with him and rush to go back into your dorm. Embarrassed that he caught you in the act of looking at him. And while doing so he can't help but fall in love again. Smiling at the fact that you are now in his reach. Now that he can truly keep you with him forever he will never let you escape once again.

Ever since Wren saw you in his class, he couldn't stop thinking about you and wanting you. He stalks and follows your every movement. His love for you has re-sparked (not that it was gone in the first place) and he is determined to make sure you are his partner forever.

He couldn't help but stare at you, how beautiful and amazing you looked to him as a kid. You treated him so kindly as if he was a normal person. You were everything to him. He wants you oh so badly you have no idea how much he is wrapped around your pretty finger. Now that he doesn't have his parents on his ass controlling him, he can finally do whatever he wants. What a shame that his parents never gave him your letters but no matter, as long as you were within his sight he could never lose you.

#✒ Fx's writing #my ocs #gn reader #yandere oc #male yandere #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere boy #yandere best friend #yandere childhood friend #yandere fluff #yandere

[blouisparadise]

Upon request, today we have the fourth part of our rec list of bottom Louis fics where Louis and Harry are friends who become lovers. If you'd like to check out the previous rec lists, you can find part one here, part two here, and part three here. If you enjoy our rec lists, please be sure to like and reblog this post to help spread the word.

Happy reading!

1) Truth Or Drink | Explicit | 5,548 words

Harry isn’t nervous. Of course he isn’t. He has done much more intimidating things than this. He has had sex with at least 100 men, and a few women along the way, while being filmed and watched by another 20 pairs of eyes. But for some reason the thought of doing this sounds a hundred times worse. He can feel his insides churning and sweat is starting to form on his palms. Sure, sex is Harry’s job and it has been for as long as he can remember. He doesn’t mind having a crowd of people watching him anymore, and everything is always quite professional. At the beginning things might have been a bit challenging but now it’s almost second nature. This, though, is more distressing than anything he has ever done before.

2) Incalescent | Explicit | 5,649 words

The onset of heat is something Louis still hasn’t learned to recognize.

3) You Step Where Words Are Written, Delicate Under Your Feet | Mature | 6,495 words

Prompt 513: A fic where Louis gives Harry a footjob over his pants while they're watching TV and Harry finds out he has a thing for Louis' feet.

4) Kiss It Better | Mature | 8,080 words

Harry shakes his head with a light laugh and leans down to kiss him again which Louis happily accepts even if he is a little confused by the reaction. "Baby, not a night has gone by that I haven't thought about you in my bed, naked, and begging for my cock." Blinking up at him with wide eyes, Louis opens his mouth to say something but nothing comes out. While they did flirt a lot over the last few weeks, Harry had never said anything like that. It shocks him as much as it turns him on. "News to me." "I won't lie and say I like random hookups or casual sex, but to me this isn't what that is." Louis swallows thickly, unsure of what to say to that but once again Harry gives him an out. "So, If you want we can stay up here and I can show you all the things I've thought about doing to you." Another kiss, quick and sweet. "Or, we can go back downstairs and we'll dance all night."

5) To Love Without Reason | Explicit | 8,854 words

“Come on in, soldier,” Louis pats Harry’s chest and walks away, leaving Harry to follow behind. Harry stands in the living room, looking around at Louis’ dwelling. Family pictures placed high on a shelf, certificates of Louis’ practice, and other trinkets that make Harry entirely too nostalgic. “I have to warn you,” Louis says as he puts the kettle on, the water droplets from his hair trickling down the golden skin of his back. “The door jams if you lock it so you'll have to leave it ajar.” Harry acknowledges with a soft hum, too entranced by Louis’ glistening skin to form a coherent reply.

6) I Would Wait Forever (And Ever) | Not Rated | 10,018 words

Louis is brave but has the worst timing in the world, Harry doesn't want to lose his best friend and they just don't communicate enough.

7) If I Saw You Every Day Forever | Mature | 10,685 words

There really should be a statute on the number of dates one can go to because how much longer does Louis have to suffer through this? A modern AU in which Louis might have accidentally signed up for something he probably shouldn't.

8) Wait Until You're Sure | Explicit | 13,042 words

Prompt 465: Louis and Harry are best friends who made a pact. If neither of them has found love by the time they’re 30, then they’ll get married. It was all laughter and fun until Harry realizes they’re celebrating his 30th birthday and in a few months, Louis is gonna be 30 too. So, he struggles to find someone for Louis to avoid being together, but Louis just keeps rejecting all men Harry introduces to him (because he has feeling for him, of course), which really upsets Harry. They argue about that and Louis says something like “wow, it’s that bad to be with me?,” accepting that Harry simply doesn’t feel the same. Louis moves for a couple of months with another friend and Harry has all this time to understand his feelings, realizing that he loves Louis too and wants to be with him. But when he goes to tell him, Louis is already seeing someone else. So what’s Harry gonna do to get Louis back?

9) Candle Wax & Polaroids On The Hardwood Floor | Explicit | 13,082 words

Prompt 463: Clumsy modern witch Louis AU where he accidentally gives his roommate Harry a love potion and he has a crisis because he thinks he will get in trouble with the law for technically poisoning someone and Harry’s heart eyes aren’t helping.

10) Blackberries And Cherries | Explicit | 13,894 words

Louis is a witch and Harry is his human friend. When Harry needs help focusing on his schoolwork, the obvious solution is to ask Louis for a potion. You could say things don’t go quite right.

11) Bend The Rules | Explicit | 16,823 words

Prompt 588: Lous hires a ‘ghost cooking’ service because his family is worried he’s not eating well and he wants to impress them by showing them what an amazing cook he’s become. The service includes sending a discreet cook to your house and have them get everything ready so that you only serve and take the credit. Problem is, his sisters (can be OCs if that’s more comfortable) get to his flat earlier than planned and the actual cook has to hide in the master bathroom for hours. Louis is mortified. The cook is amused and helps him to clean and well. Gives him a thorough service. Feel free to pick your fave as the cook.

12) Swap Me For Your Shadow | Explicit | 16,829 words

If Louis thought being in love with his best friend was a knife that continually twisted into his heart before, it was nothing compared to when Harry started to go around talking about having fallen for someone else. A 5+1 fic; 5 times Louis has to listen to Harry’s vague confessions of love for his ‘omega friend’ and the 1 time Louis snaps and confesses his love for Harry.

13) Sometimes A Fantasy | Explicit | 18,654 words

There’s nothing to complain about when Harry’s walking around their flat with his cock swinging about, nothing to complain about when Harry’s pressing himself up against Louis’ naked backside when he’s reaching for a mug in their cupboards, and nothing to complain about when Harry’s got his hand firm on Louis’ arse when they’re cuddling on the couch. So, in reality, it’s really fucking weird, and Louis knows that. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t like it.

14) Lonely Shadow Dancers | Explicit |20,838 words

“Mm,” Harry’s arms circle him, and their fumbling somehow turns into a cuddle session, “still can’t believe we’re here together.” Growing up with someone, one tends to become used to another. Used to the mannerisms and personality of them. Used to the changes and the things that stay the same. Harry hit puberty and sprung up into this cheeky curly flirt of an alpha and Louis still hasn’t found the time to get used to it. His stomach flutters and he bites back a stupid smile and wonders if he ever will.

15) The Mess We Created | Explicit | 21,099 words

An innocent one night stand changed into something more than that.

16) Not Safe For Work | Explicit | 23,295 words

I want to drown myself in Harry’s scent until I smell like him. “I think I'm open to trying that too. Sounds very good.” Louis shakes his head a little to get out of the Harry’s-scent-spiral. “Huh?” “The dish your finger's pointing at. I thought that might be what you’re choosing?” “Oh. Yeah.”

17) Sweet Like Honey | Explicit | 33,117 words

Weeks of flat shopping with their limited budget with Louis as a librarian aid and Harry as a barista and arguments about whether a balcony or extended bathroom suite were more important (Harry wanted to be able to feel the crisp night’s air and watch the sun set and Louis just wanted to take long bubble baths) led to them stumbling across the perfect fit. A small flat only ten minutes from campus with a cramped but lovely balcony and an included bath.  It’s affordable too… well, sort of. But they always manage. Louis picks up more shifts as an aid, adapting a habit of bringing his Psych textbooks and homework with him to finish in between duties, and later his script so he can quietly practice lines with little distraction. Harry also increases his number of shifts at the cafe and valiantly endures the nasty customers who for some reason flock to their establishment like moths to a flame.  For a while, it’s enough.

18) Once Burnt, Twice Shy | Explicit | 52,644 words

Louis and Harry are polar opposites in every way. Where Louis is a bestselling author from the city, Harry is a small-town firefighter who's never left his home. Where Louis is spontaneous and spirited, Harry is introverted and calm, never straying from routine. When an ill-fated accident and an exceptionally intelligent tabby bring them together, they are forced to confront their pasts and forge a better beginning for themselves. Will sparks fly, or will it all go up in flames?

19) Gallery Of Us | Explicit | 55,778 words

Harry knew what he was doing in life, everything laid out in black-and-white, each day pleasantly predictable. Cue lively art student, Louis, trying to find his place. An almost insufferably happy person who sometimes forgets to hide the way they feel meets the person who is diligent enough to notice and determined to make a difference.

20) If You’re Out There (I’ll Find You Somehow) | Explicit | 55,916 words

Harry looks so intensely into Louis’ eyes it’s as though he’s reaching in and touching his very soul. “I never thought… I never… I’ve been searching for so long, Louis, but I never gave up. I couldn’t stop, wouldn’t stop trying,” Harry says, bottom lip trembling as he strokes the backs of Louis’ knuckles. “I just knew that if you were out there, I’d find you somehow.”

21) It’s Golden, Like Daylight | Explicit | 61,496 words

"I actually think you might be onto something.” Harry’s eyes widened. “You mean…” Louis nodded. “As crazy and insane as this, this might just solve both of our problems.” “Are you saying you’re in?” Harry asked. “I’m in.”

22) Derail The Mind Of Me | Explicit | 77,323 words

Beside the photograph of a gaunt, pale face spattered with blood and lips torn into a Glasgow smile was a bloodied object, crumpled and stained almost to the point of unrecognition. Another photo showed the object shoved into the woman’s mouth. While Harry leaned forward to get a closer look, Louis scrunched up his nose and purposefully kept his gaze locked on his computer screen, refusing to so much as glance at the gruesome images the rest of the team examined. “What is that?” Zayn frowned. “Is that a tarot card?”

23) Ghost Note Symphony | Explicit | 96,426 words

Louis is on tour when he first hears about it. It’s all over the news – Harry Styles Attacked By Fan runs in headlines for days. It’s not even just the gossip rags, either. Actual journalists are covering the story. It would have been impossible to avoid hearing about it. Technically, Oli is the one who tells Louis about it, but it’s not exactly being covered up. Harry doesn’t answer Louis’ text asking if he’s alright, but that’s not really surprising. They haven’t spoken for months, and it’s been a lot longer than that since they’ve had a real conversation. The sting of the text going unanswered is still there, less painful than it might have been a few years ago. It’s not that it’s easy to forget about, exactly. Louis has a whole life outside of One Direction now, though. So Louis goes on with his life, figuring that if Harry was seriously hurt he would have heard about it by now. He might currently be in the same country as Harry, but being on opposite sides of it puts enough distance between them that putting it in the back of his mind is easy. There’s nothing Louis could do, even if he thought Harry might want him to. That’s why everything that happens next comes as a complete shock to him.

24) Our Endless Numbered Days | Explicit | 120,815 words

“Harry?” whispered Louis, his mouth dry, his nose pressing against the other’s warm skin. “Mh?” Harry’s humming was gentle, his fingers lightly caressing the younger boy’s arm, his chest steadily rising and falling beneath Louis’ cheek. A couple of seconds passed, and Louis looked up at him in the darkness of the cave, barely able to make out the expression on his face. When he tried to inhale deeply, his breath hitched. He struggled to find the words to tell Harry what he was thinking about. Another couple of seconds passed, and Louis listened to the reassuring beating of the prince’s heart beneath his cheek. He couldn’t. “Nothing,” he whispered, his voice weak. I think you’re half of my soul.

25) Love Will Tear Us Apart | Mature | 204,151 words

It was only meant to be a one night thing, but when the country goes into lockdown, Louis Tomlinson finds himself stuck in windsor castle, in company of his royal fucking highness, Harry, the prince of England.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

#bottom louis #top harry #larry #fic recs #blp #blp fic recs #friends to lovers

[darkbluekies]

OC’s with a reader who gets insecure/jealous a lot? Like they’re scared that Yandere will leave them for someone else, open their relationship, cheat on them, ect.

Alright, I think I’m done, for now

-🦇

Warnings: mentions of killing, Jerry being nsfw as usual lol

[I'm really testing my limits with Jerry's part, I've never written something like that before, but I'd like to be able to write all kinds of stuff and to make Jerry's character realistic i need to go out of my comfort zone! Please bare with me lol]

Silas:

To be honest, this man would he completely dumbfounded. Why would he ever want someone else when he knows he has you waiting at home for him? He barely has time to meet you, so when would he have time to hook up with others? He would think that your worries are a bit silly, but he wouldn't be too mocking about it.

"My God, baby, aren't your sweet, little head getting a little full with all of those stupid thoughts? I only want you. I'd never dream of looking at someone else. Just knowing that you're here waiting for me every night is all I ever need. Come into my arms now, I’ll show you that you're the only one i want."

Dr Kry:

You wouldn't have told him at first. Your relationship is purely professional, he's your doctor and you're his patient. You're not allowed to feel jealous. But you can't help it! Dr Kry is not a stupid man, he picks up on this quite quickly and asks you about it. When he hears how you don't like him being so close to his colleagues, he'd fight the urge to smirk so widely. He'd tilt his head and cross his arms.

"My little Y/N … haven't you understood yet? Who do you think I want? Who do you think I spend the majority of my time with, hm? Who I look forward to meeting everyday? Who I dream about when I'm asleep? Who's my favorite patient, Y/N?"

King Edmund:

You don't understand why you're afraid of him having lovers. You don't like him! You've told yourself that! But still, it stings in your heart when you see him greeting people by kissing their cheeks. One night, you can't take it anymore and tell him your fears. Edmund doesn't care about much, but you're something he really values and hearing about this breaks his greedy, little heart.

"My dear, dear Y/N. Don't tell me you've been feeling like this for a long time! Don't tell me you don't understand how much I want you. I killed for you, Y/N! I got rid of everyone that I've ever fancied to make sure you understood. You have no reason to be scared that I'd keep any people behind your back."

Jerry:

She can read you like an open book. She knows how insecure you are and how much you want her approval, attention and love. Jerry might not be the best one to show her loyalty to you, but she trusts you to understand that she'd always choose you. She tries finding other ways than affirming words and affection to reassure you that you're her one and only. Sadly, that's one part about you she can't read, she doesnt understand just how worried you are. You tell her how you don't like it when she goes out to her clubs because you’re so scared that she'll go home with someone.

"Aw, are you jealous? How cute. Haven't I fucked you enough times to know how much you mean to me? Don't I put you first in the bedroom? I don't show that kind of attention to just anyone. I fucking love you, baby! More than anything! Don't you believe me? Really? Guess I have to prove it to you again, my love. I'll stay home. This time, I'll make sure you understand ..."

Hedwig:

She secretly loves you being jealous and insecure. It reassures her that you still want her. She will go out of her way to hug her friends a bit longer than usual and smile to other classmates a bit wider just to feel you hug her arm tighter. You lean your chin on her shoulder with a small whine. She smiles, pretending not to know a single thing.

"What's wrong? Aren't you feeling well? Why the pout, darling? Come here, give me a hug, that's right ~"

#yandere #yandere imagines #yandere drabbles #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere mafia #yandere oc x reader #female yandere #clingy yandere #possessive yandere #obsessive yandere #manipulative yandere #jealous yandere #🦇 anon

[captainsophiestark]

Ragtag

Grant Ward x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2023!

Fandom: Marvel

Day 1 Prompt: "It's not too late, let's go."

Summary: The scene with FitzSimmons and Garrett on the Bus at the end of Season 1 if, instead of FitzSimmons, Grant had found and captured his long-time best friend, partner, and girlfriend.

Word Count: 4,158

Category: Angst, Fluff

Warnings: Mentions of abuse. No depictions of it, but the mention/realization that a character has been abused in the past, while staring at/standing in the same hallway as the abuser.

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

This had to be a nightmare.

With each step I took, one foot in front of the other, I willed myself to wake up, to realize everything had just been a bad dream. And with each step, I was forced closer to the realization that my situation was heartbreakingly, terrifyingly real.

The past week, I'd had a line of similar thoughts, hoping and praying that the fall of SHIELD and the betrayal of my best friend and boyfriend, Grant Ward, had been some insane fever dream. That I'd wake up in the med pod on the Bus, the team happy to see me awake, and that I'd realize everything had been some horrible concoction of my imagination instead. But just like now, I'd been forced to come to terms with the fact that I was wide awake.

First, I thought the nightmare was Hydra's infiltration. Then it became Garrett, Grant's mentor and basically surrogate father, being a traitor. Then it was discovering Grant was a traitor. Now, it had reached a whole new level, as Grant frog-marched me toward the Bus that he and Garrett had taken over, my hands tied behind my back and his gun forcing me to keep moving forward.

"Grant... what are you doing?" I breathed, trying to keep the tears out of my voice as we neared the ramp of the plane. Garrett had taken things over in the name of Hydra, and he clearly had some hold over my boyfriend. Every step towards that ramp lowered my odds of making it through this.

"We can't have SHIELD following us, that's all," he said. He kept his voice level, trying to convince me he was being reasonable, like I'd heard him do with our enemies on missions countless times before. I shook my head.

"You are SHIELD, Grant," I said. "Please, please remember that."

His grip tightened slightly on my forearm as he led me to the base of the ramp, a comforting squeeze more than anything threatening. A week ago, it would've put me at ease.

"I'm not the man you think I am," he muttered. I sighed heavily through my nose, a little bit of irritation finally flaring up.

"I know you better than anybody else on earth, apparently including you," I huffed. Grant didn't respond.

As soon as we entered the garage bay, where Lola used to sit, Grant and I were flanked by three other agents, who followed us up the stairs. Grant moved ahead, leading me through the physically wrecked and shattered hallways of the plane we'd spent a few, blissful months calling home, and my heart squeezed tight in my chest. How had everything gone so wrong?

"Here she is, sir," he said, and a second later I saw John Garrett's stupid, shitty face staring back at me. I narrowed my eyes and scowled, unable to contain my hate and anger enough to keep a neutral expression.

"What's the matter?" he asked, his tone light and teasing in a way that made my blood boil. "Cat got your tongue?"

"Maybe I've just got nothing to say to you," I replied. He had the nerve to laugh.

"Well, that's fine then. I don't know that I have much to say to you either, especially now that you're here. Thanks to Ward, you won't be much of a problem for me anymore."

Over Garrett's shoulder, I saw Grant's expression flicker and shutter. Like a kicked dog, caught between someone he loved and someone who scared him. An anger I'd only ever felt when our enemies threatened Grant welled up in my chest.

In my entire, almost fifteen-year career at SHIELD, I had managed to get through it without killing anyone. Ever. Even before I had the Icer to knock enemies out instead of shooting them the old-fashioned way, I'd made a point of using non-lethal force. It mattered to me; it felt important to find a way to do my job without killing people in the process.

Grant had never had the same reservations. It didn't bother me, and although we'd talked about it once or twice, I'd never expected him to take up my same system when we'd been partnered on missions, when we'd become good friends, or when we'd started dating. Time and again, he'd gone to the mat for me, tearing apart anyone that existed as a threat to me with a force I'd never have imagined using.

For the first time in our lives, in our decade and a half of friendship, the tables had turned.

Thanks to the rest of Coulson's team, I knew John Garrett had significant organ failure. A Cybertek device in his chest was the only thing still keeping him alive. He'd abused Grant for longer than I'd known him, and for the first time, I could see clearly how it affected Grant, in real time. For both our sakes, I couldn't let this go on any longer. I didn't know if it would kill him, and I still hoped it wouldn't, but for the first time I didn't care enough to make sure it wouldn't. I needed to get away from Garrett, and more importantly, I needed to get Grant away from Garrett. Even if it was for just a few minutes.

The Bus's engines whirled outside, and I felt us lift off the ground. An added complication, for sure, but not enough to change the plan I'd just formed in my head. I took a deep breath in and out, steadying my heartbeat and readying myself for the action ahead, like Grant had taught me years and years ago. Then, I jumped as high as I could, bringing my handcuffed hands under my feet and around to the front of my body as I did. Before anybody could register my movement, I darted forward and struck Garrett in the chest as hard as I could, putting all my weight and momentum behind both of my hands.

Garrett went down like a sack of bricks. He doubled over, gripping his middle as he groaned. I brought my knee up and hit him again before anybody could stop me, and then I took off running through the familiar passages of the jet that I used to call home.

"Garrett!" I heard Grant cry, distress in his voice that sent a pang running through my chest. I ducked around a corner at the sound of thundering footsteps behind me, and soon the agents that'd followed Grant and I from the minute we set foot on the Bus came rushing into the small common area in front of all our bunks, one room over from Garrett and Grant.

I heard shouting from the other room, and Grant's voice faded as he told Garrett to wait just a second. I tried to keep a piece of my attention focused on that while I engaged the three agents who'd decided to chase me. Even with my hands tied, they weren't much of a match for me.

I wrapped my arms around the neck of the one who'd come in last, using him as a human shield against his friends as I held him in the sleeper hold.

One by one, I worked through my three assailants, until they were each unconscious on the ground. As soon as the last one was down, I paused to tune back in to the goings-on in the other room, and heard Grant's voice as he assured Garrett that he would live. Apparently Cybertek was preparing to treat him in Miami.

I made the quick decision that I had enough time to make sure these three wouldn't continue to be a problem, so I dragged them into my old bunk (right next to Grant's) and then wedged a loose piece of the dining table's structure into the door so it couldn't open again. It likely wouldn't hold them for very long, but it was better than nothing. I took a few extra seconds to wrestle out of my handcuffs, my mind working as I did.

With Garrett and his three goons incapacitated, I had decent hope of getting Grant alone. I heard Raina, an inhuman we'd been struggling with, promising to stay in the room with Garrett and keep him safe. And then, I heard Garrett's voice hissing at Grant, barely above an ugly whisper.

"I need you to put her down."

I straightened, hands on my hips as my handcuffs finally dropped from my wrists, and frowned. There was no mistaking what he meant, but I couldn't imagine he actually thought he'd get very far ordering Grant to kill me.

"What?" Grant's voice, barely louder than Garrett's. I shifted a little closer to the doorway to hear better. "No. There's plenty of time. I won't leave you."

"And I'm telling you to cross her off for me. It's not a weakness, is it?"

The silence seemed to stretch for years. Then, finally, Grant's voice:

"No."

I turned on my heel and ran.

The nightmare continued, apparently, as the man who'd saved my life more times than I could count anymore had apparently just agreed to be my murderer. I couldn't believe he'd actually go through with it, but I also couldn't believe he'd entertain Garrett to this point. I couldn't take any risks, not now.

I slid down the ladder between the sleeping compartment and the cockpit, landing in the maze of pods in the hull just as I heard heavy footsteps overhead. My heart started racing in my chest, a fear like I'd never felt in all my near-death experiences at SHIELD gripping my chest.

Grant wouldn't actually kill me, would he?

I darted between the pods, and just like in a horror movie, I heard Grant's voice call out my name from behind me. I sped up, finally ducking into one of the pods and locking it behind me as I heard his footsteps closing in. My hand slammed on the locking device and it turned from green to red just in time. A second later, Grant appeared before me, his hand on the glass separating us.

"Open the door," he said, his eyes locked on mine. I could only see one of his hands, and my heart raced in my chest as I realized the other was likely level with his hip. I took an involuntary step backward.

"Grant... you're scaring me," I breathed, tears at last rising to the surface and threatening to fall. I'd fought them back once, but this time, I didn't think I'd be able to.

"Y/N, just open the door."

"No. I heard what you said, I heard what Garrett said. You... you wouldn't actually kill me. Would you?"

He grimaced, his jaw setting in the expression I recognized as him dealing with something he DID NOT want to deal with. My heart broke a little more in my chest.

"Just open the door."

"No! Grant, are you kidding me?" The tears were coming now, streaming down my cheeks, and I stepped towards Grant again, pressing up against the glass to get as close to him as possible. "I love you! You're my best friend, you're my partner! You're supposed to have my back through anything! I... I'd started daydreaming about marrying you! About the two of us, having the SHIELD careers recruits would be hearing about for the rest of time, before finally retiring somewhere nice together. Every time I thought about my future, Grant, you were in it... and now I might not have a future because of you? Are you kidding me?"

His expression flickered, and he couldn't keep some sadness and regret off his face when he looked at me through the glass this time. The tiniest spark of hope fluttered in my chest. If he felt bad, maybe I could still talk him off the ledge. Maybe I didn't have to lose the love of my life.

"I'm sorry. I tried to tell you... I'm a bad man. I'm not the man you thought you fell in love with."

"Bullshit!" I cried, slamming my fist into the glass in front of me. Grant jumped a little, surprise registering on his face. "You are exactly who I think you are. I know you, Grant, I've spent the last fifteen years of my life with you. Garrett may think he knows you, but he's wrong. He knows who he wants you to be. But I know who you actually are."

"You don't-"

"The sugary, caramely coffee drinks you secretly love but refuse to let anybody else but me know you drink?" I said, interrupting him with a hand on my hip, my eyes locked on his. "How invested you got in The Circle when I made you watch it on Netflix? All the time we spent planning what our strategy would be if we ever went on the show together?"

He grimaced, but I didn't give him a second to respond.

"The face mask you did with me that you loved, and all the stupid pictures we took together with the masks on? Your aggressive hatred of the Patriots even though you're from Massachusetts? The fact that you sleep best with a sleep mask, and that you have to take your socks off right before you get under the covers? Not a moment before, and definitely not after? All of that shared history, all of those things we've shared and that I've gotten to see, and you think I don't know you?"

Grant just stared at me, looking at a loss for words. I let mine hang in the air for a minute, then continued.

"I highly doubt John Garrett could list even one of those things. And those little things that you do every day, that you can't fake? That's you Grant. I know you. I know you've saved me more times than I can even count, from the demons in the real world and the ones inside my own head. So I get that Garrett's got you believing you're some kind of secret evil supervillain, but I know enough to know how ridiculous that is. You're the best man I've ever met, Grant. Please, believe me over that piece of shit upstairs that never cared enough to know the real you."

Grant still didn't speak for a few long moments, but this time, I just let the silence hang. I held his gaze, the tears having finally stopped. I didn't wipe away the remnants as they slowly dried on my face. Finally, Grant sighed, breaking eye contact to look down at the ground before returning his stare to me.

"And how exactly do you see this going?" he asked, his voice low. He'd leaned in a little, like we were co-conspirators, and I swear I felt a weight lift off my chest. The glimmer of hope had turned into a full light. "What do you expect to happen next, after all this? Don't tell me you still see a happy ending, with us retiring after full careers at SHIELD."

I sighed through my nose and rolled my eyes up to the ceiling, before fixing Grant with a look. He raised his eyebrows, and I had to fight back a laugh, mostly at the relief for that small moment of our relationship back to normal.

"Well, no, I don't think that's in the cards anymore," I deadpanned. "But the only important part of my vision of the future has been you, Grant. I don't care if we get mentioned in SHIELD classes years from now or if we're labeled as failures, examples of what not to do. All that matters to me is you."

He stared at me for a few more long, silent moments. For most people, he would've been unreadable, but I recognized the slightly-wider eyes, the deer-in-headlights look he got whenever I admitted big feelings that he didn't expect me to share. It was a good sign, and when he swallowed and cleared his throat, his expression had all of the grim defeat gone, replaced instead by a shaky hope.

"So what are you suggesting?"

"I'm suggesting we run," I said simply. "It's not too late, let's go. Let's ditch it all, and go somewhere we can start a new life together. Screw Garrett, screw SHIELD, screw Hydra. All that matters is you and me."

Grant stared at me like he didn't believe I was real. Slowly, swallowing heavy again, he nodded. I raised my eyebrows and smiled.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," he finally managed, nodding again, more sure this time. "Yeah, let's do that. You're... you're all that matters to me, too."

My small smile broke into a full-on grin, and at last, I hit the lock on the door. I slid it open the moment the lock flashed green, darting forward to close the space between me and Grant and wrapping him in a bone-crushing hug. I buried my face in his chest, and after a moment, he wrapped his arms around me in return.

"Well. I guess she was a weakness."

Grant and I's heads snapped up in unison to find John Garrett standing just down the hallway from us. I narrowed my eyes. Of course he'd picked this moment to show up.

Grant stiffened under my arms, and I could feel the stress radiating off of him. Garrett took a small step towards us, but I didn't dare move, lest Grant feel anymore trapped than he already did. Besides, holding him tight in a hug we'd shared during and after a thousand traumatic experiences felt like the best leg up on Garrett I could get.

"Agent Ward, I didn't train you to be a pushover. I trained you to be a man who could go in and do the job that needed to be done," said Garrett. "It's not too late. You don't want to disappoint me, son."

At the same time Garrett's words washed over Grant, he took another step closer, and his hand flexed at his side. Grant flinched under me, and I saw red.

In almost fifteen years, Grant had never flinched. Not like this. When something came flying at his face? Sure. When an especially good jump scare happened in a horror movie and he tried to hide how badly it had scared him? Always. But when someone stood apart from us, subtly threatening him? Never. Not once.

Garrett had clearly manipulated him, badly. I knew that. Throughout the course of this interaction, I'd assumed Garrett had crossed the line into mental abuse, too. But now, I realized it had gone even further. To mental and physical abuse. Garrett had hit Grant enough after Grant "failed" him, that my boyfriend, who'd stared down some of the scariest people in the world without fear, stood next to me trembling, caught between a rock and a hard place.

"Think things through here, Ward," said Garrett, continuing his slow walk towards us. "Either you kill her, or I do. Weaknesses are unacceptable, especially now that we've come out of the shadows. A happy ending doesn't exist to this love story that came from your lies at SHIELD. So don't be stupid, son. Don't make this worse on yourself than it has to be-"

My hand moved before my brain actually registered what I was doing. I grabbed the gun out of the holster at Grant's waist, the one I thought he might've decided to use on me only about ten minutes ago, and I levelled it at Garrett. I was aware enough to realize this wasn't an Icer; this had the ability to do lethal damage. And for the first time ever, I decided I didn't care. I shot John Garrett in the chest, twice. He dropped to his knees, the life quickly fading out of him, leaving a crumpled heap on the floor.

The gun fell out of my hand and clattered to the ground, my hands were shaking so bad. I dropped to my knees, a wave roaring in my ears as I stared at Garrett's dead body. Vaguely, I registered tears streaming down my face. What had I just done?

A second later, Grant dropped next to me. His arm wrapped around my shoulders and pulled me to him. Not only had I just killed someone, I'd killed someone important to Grant. In front of him. His abuser, yes, but that wouldn't make it much easier to watch the man he thought saved him die before his eyes.

"Grant... I'm so sorry," I breathed, the words coming out broken around sobs and gulps for air. I shook my head and buried it into his shoulder, the reality of everything washing over me again and again, like waves pounding into the shore. "I can't believe... I just killed someone. I'm so sorry, I... I've always found another way. Always. All life is precious and important, but he was just so rotten- And he was hurting you- I'm so sorry."

I broke, words failing me as I shook, sobbing, head buried in Grant's chest. He wrapped his other arm around me and held me tight, which only made me feel worse. We stayed like that for a few moments, until I finally got a hold of myself enough to look at him. His eyes remained on Garrett's broken form, and it felt like a punch to the gut.

"Grant... how can you be comforting me right now? After what I did to someone you care about, I-"

I broke off again, the words turning into choked sobs as I ducked my head back into his chest. I squeezed my eyes tight, waiting for Grant to come to his senses enough to pull away. Instead, he sighed, and pulled me closer.

"Come on, is that even a real question?" he asked, his words as shaky as both of us combined. "The same way you forgave me for everything I did. I love you. And... if you, of all people, decided the right decision was to shoot John Garrett? ...Well, I don't know. Maybe he was having a worse impact on me than I realized."

I cried harder at that, relief and sadness and a thousand other emotions that had been warring in my chest all day coming together to be processed as one. After a few moments, I felt Grant's shaky breathing and a few drops of wetness on the top of my head as he cried silently with me. Grief for a lot of things gripped us both, but at least we could cling to each other.

A few long minutes later, we finally pulled apart and helped each other to stand. We were both still shaking, and I did my best to stand between Grant and Garrett's body. It felt wrong to keep my back to Garrett, to let myself avoid facing what I'd done, but I just couldn't make myself do it.

Wordlessly, we wandered back up to the main level of the Bus. Raina still waited here somewhere, but we didn't see her, and we didn't seek her out as we headed for the cockpit. With a few looks, we both knew exactly what we wanted and needed to do. I held Grant's hand tight in my own as we had the Quinjet set down immediately, in the middle of a field in Oklahoma. Neither of us wanted to be on board a second longer.

We walked out of the cockpit and towards the ramp in the back, avoiding any of the cargo bay where so much had happened. We found Raina in the living room, but she didn't try to stop us. Hand in hand, Grant and I walked off the ramp and out into the field. A moment later, the plane took off again, continuing on its original course and leaving us behind.

Grant tugged me closer to him and wrapped an arm around me, and we leaned on each other as the plane disappeared into the sky. Both of us still shook a little, and we were each the only thing keeping the other standing. After a minute, once the plane completely disappeared from sight, Grant spoke in a quiet voice.

"So... what do we do now?"

"...I guess we just start walking."

I looked up at him and our eyes connected for a few moments, holding each other's stares and trying to promise the other that everything would be okay. With Garrett gone, now more than ever, there was nothing stopping us from leaving all the hurt and bad memories behind, and starting over somewhere new. With any luck, Raina would tell people we were dead along with John Garrett, and that would be the end of our involvement with SHIELD and Hydra.

For now, though, none of that mattered. All that mattered was the man standing beside me as we turned, our backs to the plane and its path, and started walking towards our new future, hand in hand and one foot in front of the other.

****************

Marvel Taglist: @valkyriepirate @luv-ghostie

#fictober23 #marvel #agents of shield #grant ward #grant ward x reader #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagine #marvel oneshot #agents of shield fanfiction #agents of shield imagine #agents of shield oneshot #grant ward fanfiction #grant ward imagine #grant ward oneshot #john garrett #raina #season 1 #agents of s.h.i.e.l.d. #agent grant ward #shield agents

[spadecentral]

⛈ Rain Rots the Smell | Deuce Spade x Reader

>> requested: no >> a/n: this was for @twistedchatterbox's collab; also this thing has 2.4k words?!??! jesus i've never written this much before...

>> masterlist: here!! >> summary: you take care of a sick deuce >> reader prns: they/them (called captain) >> warning(s): chicken noodle soup; storms; possible ooc deuce

Running through the flower fields with Deuce during sunset, you had no care in the world. To be quite frank, if you were going to die at any point in your life, you would have to choose this time. You were so unbelievably happy and if your last moments were going to be laughing with your boyfriend, you would rather be nowhere else. Falling down on the blades of grass, you tripped the blue-haired boy, making him fall right on top of you.

“Deuce!” you exclaimed, still laughing.

In a teasing manner, Deuce decided to joke around with you. “Hm… where did my partner go? I could have sworn they were here a second ago…”

“Deuce!” you giggled, knowing that he was teasing. You pounded lightly on his shoulders, hoping that he would stop. “I’m right here!”

“I can’t see them anywhere,” Deuce brought a hand up to his face, using it to shade his eyes while he pretended to search for you. Finally deciding to look down, he gave a surprised look when his eyes laid upon you. “Oh, there you are! Where have you been?”

“I’ve been here the whole time, dummy.” you rolled the blue-haired boy off of your chest, forcing him to lay in the grass.

“Ewww I’m gonna get grass stains,” Deuce whines as he starts to sit up. “It's gonna be such a pain to get out…”

“Oh shush, you were raised by one of the greatest women ever,” you roll your eyes. “She has every trick in the book. You know how to get freaking cement out of your hair because of your mom.”

“It wasn’t cement,” Deuce sighs.

“Super glue is close enough to cement, dear.”

“So if I glue my hand with your hand… we’ll be stuck together by cement?”

You flushed almost immediately, as you weren’t expecting Deuce to flirt with you. “J… just focus on the flowers, Juice.”

“Augh, Juice. That really stings, babe.” Deuce puts a hand over his heart in mock pain. “I can’t believe you used an insult from Ace.”

“...I can’t believe it either.” you responded, a little stunned. You suppose you’ve just been around both Ace and Deuce for so long that unfortunately, you had picked up on some of the insults that the both of them used. “Deuce, slap me.”

“Excuse me?” Deuce looked stunned by what you asked of him.

“I’m obviously not in my right mind if I’m using Ace’s insults,” you reasoned. “So, slap me.”

“What if instead I…” Deuce lifted his hand and you braced for an impact. But instead of feeling a burning sensation, you felt Deuce’s hand caress your cheek.

“Wha–” your eyes opened for only a second before you felt Deuce’s lips press softly against yours.

Sinking into the kiss, you knew he could taste your chapstick. An odd one, green jelly bean was probably not a flavor he expected to be on his lips. Oh well, you thought. Living while in this kiss is more important than worrying about the taste of my chapstick. And you did. It was like your senses were heightened. You could feel each blade of grass, how it was woven and how tall it was. You could feel the gentle breeze hitting both you and Deuce. You could smell the wind. But most importantly, you could feel him. You could feel each and every divot in his lips, you knew where he bit them and you knew where they were split open. You could feel the stickiness of his tinted chapstick that slightly glued your lips together. You could feel the calluses on his hand, and you could smell his hand lotion. Oh Deuce… he was always the best boyfriend he could be. And you love him for just trying.

As your lips parted, you could see a smirk coming across his face. In an attempt to stop Deuce from saying anything, you pounced on him, making him fall over into the flowers behind him. “You could have warned me, dummy!”

“Mmm…” he pretended to think. “Nahhh.”

“Maybe as punishment I’ll lay right here on top of you all evening,” you pouted. Turning over, you rested your head on his stomach.

“Augh, I’ve been defeated by my own partner.” Deuce laughs, reaching his hands up to the sky as if he’s dying in a really dramatic play. “Blood, guts, aaaaand death.”

“You stupid boy,” you giggle.

“Yeah, but I’m your stupid boy.”

“I suppose that’s true,” you sighed.

“Suppose? You suppose?!” Deuce sits up, making you sit up too. “You only suppose? Oh I’m gonna get you–”

“Oh shit.”

Immediately getting up, you started sprinting away from him. You knew he was going to tackle you. You just knew it.

“Get back here, babe!” Deuce called out. You could tell he was catching up to you. “I’ll make sure you’ll never say ‘I suppose’ again!”

Laying down in the grass, you and Deuce decided to stargaze. You still had kiss marks all over your face from Deuce’s tackle. He had kissed you all over your face, and he hasn’t learned where to purchase non-tinted chapstick yet. But you can’t bother to get him some, as you love the lip marks that stay all over your face and stain your cheeks.

“Deuce look at that one!” you pointed up at a blue-colored star.

“Oh yeah! That looks so cool!” Deuce’s voice was comforting. Calm yet excited. Perfect. “Look over there! Was there supposed to be a meteor shower tonight?”

“Huh, I dunno actually.” you shrugged. Closing your eyes, you snuggled into the warmth of your boyfriend. You could feel the breeze from Deuce putting his jacket over you, giving you an extra layer to trap your body heat.

Rain. Rain woke you up. Your clothes were safe, at least, safer than Deuces. He was fully drenched, standing up and pulling on your hand. You, still half-asleep, had no clue what was going on. “Deuce? What’s going on?”

“Rain!” he responded, running back to his blastcycle. “I didn’t know it was going to rain today!”

Hopping onto his blastcycle, Deuce pulled your wrist in an attempt to get you to swing on as well. Instantly getting the memo, you got on. “Go, go, go!!”

“I’m trying,” he responded, rushed. Revving up his blastcycle, he pressed on the gas as fast as possible without potentially sliding and getting into a crash.

Your arms wrapped around Deuce’s torso, all you could think about was how sick the both of you were going to be the next day.

The next morning was an ugly one. The clouds were still gray and the air was damp. Your vision was cloudy and your chest was heavy. Rubbing your eyes, you could see Deuce right next to you with his arm draped over your torso. Struggling, you sat up and as gently as you could, you pushed Deuce’s arm off of you. Unfortunately, your efforts went to waste when you heard him groan.

“Babe?” his raspy voice was muffled from his stuffed nose. Coughing once, he raised a hand to his head. “Eugh… I feel like shit.”

“I’ll go get the thermometer,” you say, standing up. “Ah! It’s cold as hell out here…”

You could hear him laughing at your outburst.

“Oh shush,” you roll your eyes. “I’ll be right back.”

Stepping out of your bedroom, you walk down the hall and into the bathroom. The air hit you like a sac of potatoes, and goosebumps covered your skin. The medicine cabinet creaked as you opened it and grabbed the thermometer for your boyfriend, before walking back into your room. “Alright just stay still.”

The beep sounded as the thermometer turned on. Holding it up to his forehead, the thermometer read 101.2° F (38.6° C). “Oooookay… well you’re sick as fuck.”

You pushed Deuce’s upright body back onto the pillows. “Get some rest and I’ll make you some soup.”

“The way mom makes it?” Deuce’s voice was weak; you could tell he was falling back asleep.

“I’ll ask her for the recipe,” you smiled at him before you kissed his forehead. “Now sleep.”

You closed the door to the room after grabbing your phone and a robe. No way in hell were you going to walk out of that room for more than 30 seconds without something warm. Opening your phone, you pressed on Deuce’s mom’s contact and prayed she was awake and wouldn’t hate you for calling her.

“Hello?” you heard the sweet voice of your boyfriend’s mother as she picked up your call.

“Hi, Ms. Spade,” your voice wavers for a second. “I was wondering if I could have the recipe to your chicken soup? Deuce is uhm, sick.”

“Oh, of course dear! Give me just a…” you could hear movement from her end of the line and you took that opportunity to grab a pencil and pad o paper. “Here we go. Are you ready to write it down?”

“Yup!”

“Thank you so much, Ms. Spade!” 

“You’re very welcome.” she responds. “Make sure he gets enough sleep, and if you could, putting a cold washcloth on his forehead helps him out a lot when sick.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you smile. “I’ll get to cooking now, thank you again.”

“Don’t worry about it. Bye bye, now!”

“Bye, Ms. Spade!” you hang up the call before washing your hands. “Time to get cooking, I guess.”

The aroma of the chicken noodle soup filled the kitchen. Your mouth fell victim to the smell as it started to water. Sighing, you caved and sipped some of the soup from the ladle. Shit, you thought. This is really good. Like really good. You now understood why Deuce asked for his mother’s recipe specifically.

Grabbing a bowl, you turned off the stove before scooping some of the soup into the bowl. You decided that you weren’t going to get deuce a normal porcelain bowl today. He had bought some themed plastic bowls a while ago while on a trip, and you decided that it would be a good day to use them because if he accidentally dropped it the bowl wouldn’t break. Pulling a tray from a cabinet, you placed the bowl of soup and a spoon on it. You put a kettle of water on the stove and set up a mug with a tea packet so that you could easily come back and it would be ready to go.

Picking up the tray, you walked to your room and pushed open the door.

“Deuce…” you spoke softly. “Wake up, now. I made your mom’s soup.”

You heard a sniff from the covers as Deuce sat up. His eyes were groggy and he looked cold. “Smells good.”

“I hope it tastes as good as it smells to you,” you smile as you set the tray down on his lap. “I’ll be back, I have to grab your tea.”

Rushing to the kitchen, you grabbed the screaming kettle off of the stove and poured the water into the cup before adding some honey and stirring it. You then grabbed yourself a bowl and poured some soup into it for yourself. Walking back to your bedroom, you walked through the door before closing it.

“Here’s your tea,” you set the cup down on the tray with a soft clack.

“Thank you so much, babe.” he smiled. “C’mere so I can give you a kiss.”

“Oh no way in hell,” you backed up. “I’m not gonna let you get me sick.”

“Aww why?” he pouted. Being sick seemed to make him more expressionate. “We could be sick buddies together…”

“Nuh-uh.” you shake your head, sitting down on the ottoman at the foot of the bed. “If you got me sick, who would take care of me?”

“I would?”

You internally smacked your forehead, “And who would take care of you?”

“...You would?”

“But how could I do that if I was sick?”

“...” Deuce sat in silence for a moment, thinking. “...Good point.”

“Thank you,” you said, triumphant.

Eating in silence, you smiled. Even though he was sick, he was still good company.

“Is there honey in this?” Deuce asked after taking a sip of his tea.

“Deuce…” you sighed. “Drink your tea.”

“You know I don’t like honey that much.”

“It’ll help your throat,” you shake your head. “Drink it and I’ll get you some ice cream.”

“The rocky road one?” 

“Yeah, the rocky road one,” you decided that bargaining with Deuce when he was sick was like bargaining with a seven year old.

He sighed, “Fine.”

You watched as he downed the cup of tea and was probably ignoring it burning his throat. “Done.”

You giggled as he slammed the cup down and burped. “Alright Mr. Tea-Downer! I will go get your ice cream! Continue eating your soup.”

“Aye captain!” Deuce did a little salute as he started eating his soup once again.

Shaking your head, you got up and went out of the bedroom. Your bowl clattered in the sink as you put it in, making your head ring. Opening the freezer, you dug around for a moment before finding the tub of ice cream. Searching for the scooper, you finally found it and scooped out some of the ice cream before placing it into a bowl. Grabbing yet another spoon, you make your way to the bedroom for the fourth time that day.

“This is the last time I’m getting up.” you declareed as you walk into the room.

All you got in response is a chuckle from him. “Alright, babe. Now, ice cream.”

You stopped in your tracks and in your mind you compared him to that one cute angry kaomoji. You giggle thinking about it, before handing him the bowl.

“What’s so funny?” he asks, tilting his head to the side.

“Oh nothing,” you smile before getting into your side of the bed.

“C’mon, tell me,” he prodded, poking your side.

“Fine, fine.” you held up your hands in surrender. “Just before, when you said ‘now, ice cream’ or whatever, you looked like that one cute kaomoji that I use when I’m mock-mad at you. You know?”

“The one with the little curls as fists?” he inquired.

“Yup!”

“Aww you think I’m cute,” he teased.

“Oh shush and eat your ice cream,” you cross your arms and puff your cheeks.

“Of course, love.” he said as he picked up the spoon.

>> deuce taglist: @tulipluvlettr | @ghost-hyacinth | @oseathepebble | @ventisaircurrent | @epelys | @pastelmages | @xphantasmagoriax | @atlasnessie | @divinesapph | @ze-maki-nin | @booming-spam | @flqyd-is-lost | @queerlordsimon | @kyraxiyn | @rayisalive send in an ask to be put on the taglist

#twstnexus #deuce spade #twst deuce #deuce x reader #deuce spade x reader #deuce #deuce twisted wonderland #twst deuce spade x reader #twst deuce spade #deuce spade x you #twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #@.twst.works

[real-life-senshi]

PGSM Reinako things I want to yell about, in no particular order (7/∞)

This is actually THE ONE THING that made me start this series of gif set, but it took me forever to put my thoughts into words. But it's finally here and I'm SO EXCITED to talk about it!

Fair warning - this is an essay.

Across the years I've seen many Reinako shippers used Rei following Minako around in Act 19/20 and Act 23 in the live action as proof that Rei has feelings for Minako. While I don't disagree, I do feel Rei being the one to seek Minako out was circumstantial and justifiable because Rei was literally the only Senshi then that knew Minako was Venus. Instead, there was something else both Rei and Minako consistently do to each other for the entirety of the series that I felt had more impact to the narrative of their story, but often get overlooked and not talked about enough, and that’s Minako's act of walking away and Rei's act of staying behind.

The significance of Minako walking away: Walking away or pulling a disappearing act is one of the most common thing we see Minako do, not only to Rei, but with everyone else. (E.g. Such as V walking out on Moon in Act 7, Minako disappearing on Saitou for Senshi business.) It's a recurring theme to help build the impression of elusiveness and secrecy that surrounds Minako's character. But more deeply, the act of walking away is also a device to represent the main issue Minako needed to overcome in her character arc - in prioritizing the past life mission, she was running away from what's most important, herself as Aino Minako. Her Senshi power literally woke after she accepted herself and chose to face the challenge Aino Minako faces, instead of only focusing on the challenges of Sailor Venus.

Now this in itself seems like it's really just a Minako thing, right? Where does Rei fit in?

The significance of Rei's act of staying: PGSM Minako is the the queen of the hot-and-cold behaviour, especially when she's with Rei. And her signature "cold" gesture is walking out on Rei. In fact, as you can see from this gif set, I've counted 14 times where Minako had walked out on Rei on screen in the series, and 4 other times she attempted to walk away but was stopped. Even for the normal person, you'd think when someone keeps pissing you off and runs out on you, your patience would be spent and just give up on them, right?

Now, PGSM Rei is written as the awkward, stubborn and easy to anger teenager. And don't forget, with Rei's backstory fleshed out as much as it did in PGSM, it's basically confirmed that Rei suffered badly from parental abandonment, so it's not much of a reach to interpret Rei's trust issue to be born from acts of someone she cares leaving her behind or showing rejection. And so it should reason that Rei would be doubly pissed off at Minako's seemingly flippant and callous behaviour, and couldn't wait to pass Minako off to Makoto and Ami to deal with once they know Minako is Venus, right?

But no, Rei stayed, every single time.

Despite all the crap Minako threw at Rei and repeatedly rejected Rei's support, Rei didn't react with her usual knee-jerk reactions. This, more than anything else, proves to me that Rei sees Minako as someone special - someone she could not and would not turn away from, even when Minako keeps pushing her away.

These actions forms a very beautiful, and dare I say, romantic narrative to their shared story. Here's why.

PGSM has established that all along Minako had made the conscious decision to not get deeply involved with her teammates for fear she'll end up hurting them when her illness inevitably takes her. In doing so, she boxed herself into a self-imposed isolation as her health worsens and things get tougher.

And yet in Act 11 and Act 17 when Minako met Usagi and then Rei, the narrative revealed to us that loneliness does unsurprisingly overwhelm Minako from time to time. This changed partially though when she accidentally revealed her identity to Rei. In doing so, she gave herself the choice and space to be outspoken with someone who is (at least partially) in-the-know besides Artemis. The fact Minako repeatedly approached Rei in Act 18 was evidence she actually craved the contact when she lets her guard down, to the point even Artemis had to call her out on it. And so, in moments of clarity, we see Minako try to backtrack by pushing Rei away, ie walking out on Rei. The cycle persists, where Minako's behaviour fluctuates depending on her state of mind, her backstory sadly but logically explains Minako's sometimes seemingly-random hot and cold attitude towards Rei.

In contrast to Minako's unreliable and mixed signals, Rei was the definition of stability and certainty in this relationship. Yes, Rei had indeed followed Minako around a few times, but more than that, Rei stayed and was consistently there, waiting to be available for Minako even when Minako didn't want Rei to be. Rei knows when to initiate contact (chase after Minako), but also knows to not push Minako too much too soon, choosing to stay put when Minako is actively pulling back. She lets Minako go most times when Minako walks away, as if patiently waiting to try again another day, hoping the next time will be enough to fully bring Minako's walls down. Rei knew she was in it for the long haul, not for momentary wins.

This back and forth dynamic is a persistent theme in their relationship. It can be perceived that Rei's tenacity and relentless efforts had managed to wore Minako's guard down slowly but surely throughout the series.

Act 20: Minako finally shared Rei was meant to be leader, hinting Rei needs to step in when she’s gone.

Act 36: Minako chose to disclosed the truth about her terminal illness to Rei.

It was only after Act 36, we see Rei being even more persistent and takes drastic measures in attempt to get through to Minako, because Rei realized they were out of time. But even then, their dynamic didn’t really change - Minako being the runner and Rei being the person left waiting, until…

The times their role reversed, the other AMAZING thing about all of this!

Minako walking away and Rei staying is THEIR thing. But has Rei ever walked out on Minako? The answer is yes. But only 2 times! And both times it had significant impact on Minako.

The first time was when Rei ran out to fight the Youma, and that led to Minako being overly worried and end up accidentally revealing her Senshi identity to Rei.

The second time was when Minako finally pushed Rei so much in front of the team, Rei pulled back and walked out in Act 44, reversing their usual roles. And you can tell from Minako's reaction she looked lost and conflicted as she watched Rei leave. Here was someone who had been a rock and pillar of care and support to her, now seemingly giving up on her because she finally shoved too hard. Between Makoto's near miss in Act 45 and the fact that Rei actually walked out on Minako in Act 44, Minako was shocked enough for her to finally listen and process what Rei's been telling her all this time. This ultimately lead to the resolution of Minako's character arc in Act 46.

In conclusion, their action forms a pattern to their story and deepens the meaning behind their choice to follow, stay or walk away from each other. When the pattern is disrupted it adds complexity of their story! Seriously, it feels like Rei's actions was catalyst of Minako's major character story development! Just as many of Minako's story influenced Rei's outlook on their mission and the past life (another post to come!), Rei's action had just as much influence on Minako's eventual character growth. If that doesn't prove these two are special to each other, I don't know what else to say!

Now - you'd think I'm done with my soapbox, right? NOPE. I've only finished talking about how these actions form patterns and the significance in their story. But the visual and filming appraoch of each of these scenes are also very telling. VERY.

Each time Minako walked away, it is intentional that Rei's reaction get highlighted on camera, even in group scenes. As well, we also get really telling reactions from Minako when Rei walks out on her. And that's regardless of which director led the filming.

Sato Takemitsu - Act 17, 18, 23

Takamaru Masataka - Act 20, 26

Maihara Kenzo - Act 40

Suzumura Nobuhiro - Act 43, 44, 47

It suggests either the script writer Kobayashi Yasuko intentionally scripted for Rei and Minako to have the spotlight for reacting to each other's action so all the directors received the same fucking memo about them. OR, even better, it wasn't part of the camera/filming direction, but all the directors have arrived to the same conclusion after reading the script and decided to put the spotlight on these two no matter which episodes they worked on, because the unresolved sexual tension was clear as day for them to see.

And especially Keiko did amazingly on her part portraying Rei’s attraction towards Minako. Regardless if it's a group scene or not, Rei/Mars always had the most expressive and meaningful look on her face when Minako/Venus walks out. Even in Act 22 when Mars was just in the background with Jupiter, you can tell Mars’s eyes and body following Venus’s direction while Jupiter just stands flatly.

Rei/Mars' reaction to Minako/Venus leaving also changes across the series. From frustration/irritation, to hopeful yearning, ending with worried yearning. A reflection of Rei's feelings for Minako, from seeing her an annoying brat of a Princess, to respecting Minako as a mentor, to caring for her as a friend (and maybe more).

And look at this shit!!!!!!!!

Act 20 and 26 were done by the same director. The two scenes are basically parallel to each other visually and artistically, which is also so layered when juxtaposed to the plot point:

Act 20: Minako tells Rei that Rei's meant to be leader, and Rei follows Minako wanting to learn more while expressing concern for her Princess's well being and safety.

Act 26: Mars grown enough to start taking on the leadership, and follows Venus in attempt to invite Venus to integrate with the team now Venus no longer need to play decoy, only for Venus to turn around and claims she's actually the leader and Mars is the substitute.

Lastly, the most beautiful yet absolute worst visual the PGSM directors gave us:

Even the imagery of Minako's passing just as Mars breaks down was of Minako walking away, leaving Rei behind. That shit can't be made up. If the imagery was coincidental, well, that's one hell of a coincidence.

These factors all lead to me concluding PGSM had very intentionally used the acts of walking away and staying behind as recurring theme in Reinako's relationship. The length they went to do this and the tragically beautiful story it gave us forms a much more compelling reason for audience to ship Reinako. In fact, this is the very primary reason why I fell in love shipping them in PGSM.

#reinako #pretty guardian sailor moon #pgsm #hino rei #aino minako #sailor venus #sailor mars #pgsm reinako things i want to yell about #reinako gif set #khmyh's gif set #khmyh's gif #hello I am back with my bullshit hahahaha

[beechicory]

Seb, a few days before his final race, did a fascinating interview discussing many, many things, including:

his decision to retire being for him

the World Cup in Qatar (and when, or if, sports should go there)

sportswashing and flowery words, and

the need for F1 to put its money where its flowery words are in terms of improving human rights

that human rights, and projects to improve human rights, require funding $$$ and actions, not words and photo-ops

that F1 must be be a) transparent, and b) accountable about the money it gets and where that money goes

It's a really good discussion, and he's really thoughtful - I think that even if one were to disagree with his conclusions, you'd leave recognising his logic and sincerity (and moral conviction).

The interview, with Philipp Schneider of Süddeutsche Zeitung, was difficult to get access to (here's a link to it on archive.ph) so I'm posting the google-translated text behind the Read More. (As always when something is google-translated, we're probably missing some nuance, etc)

I really recommend reading it!

Tw for discussion of homophobia, etc.

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

Conversation with Sebastian Vettel

"I want to experience happiness without having to drive for it"

Nov 18, 2022 at 6:51 p.m

Before his last race, Sebastian Vettel talks about the reasons for the end of his career, the driver's dependence on the car and material - and makes demands on Fifa and Formula 1.

SZ: Mr. Vettel, a face-to-face meeting was originally planned. Now we can at least connect by phone. That saves CO2 emissions and should be in your interest, right?

Sebastian Vettel: Absolutely. That's how it works wonderfully.

Your Formula 1 career ends on Sunday with a final race in Abu Dhabi . And a lot of people get excited because they want to know what you're going to do in the future. Does that surprise you?

Luckily, my decision doesn't affect the people, it affects me. And it's not like I got up in the morning and thought: like that! Now is the time to stop. I've been thinking about this for a long time. And even if I can't say exactly what comes after that - I'm looking forward to what comes after that!

Good to hear.

At some point, every athlete reaches the point where their career can no longer continue, for whatever reason, whether self-chosen or not. I'm not super special in that regard. The big task for me will be to find something that gives me the same level of satisfaction as I did in the years in Formula 1. One thing is certain: the big adrenaline rush and the feeling of sitting in the car will no longer exist. But that was clear to me.

We have a theory as to where the keen interest in your post-career life comes from.

How does it look?

We don't know of any professional athlete who has ever pushed his career with so much momentum during his active time. Lately one had the feeling that you are more often in the beehive than in the car and more of a political ambassador than a racing driver!

yes, good Maybe that's because there's not much to celebrate for me on the track at the moment. The sporting success in recent years has not been so outstanding that one could have said or written much about it.

You are not only leaving Formula 1 as a four-time world champion, but also as an important eyewitness. What do you think has changed the most in the past 15 years?

I think the sport, the genetics or what defines the sport is probably unchanged since Formula 1 came along. Yes, cars are changing, and so are people. But the core of Formula 1 has remained the same. I still love this sport, since I was little I've done nothing else, dreamed of nothing else, nothing else has ever really driven me. So what's different? The dimensions of the sport have grown enormously in recent years. So internationally, in Germany Formula 1 has shrunk.

Is that how you perceive it?

Formula 1 was far bigger in Germany when I started. And of course it was greatest when the boom years around Michael (Schumacher, editor's note) were around, in the mid-nineties, early 2000. Then there was another strong wave at my most successful time. But after that, interest in Germany decreased significantly.

Why is that?

On the one hand, because not all races are broadcast on free TV. But there is another important point: I am afraid that Germany is only a pioneer in terms of its view of Formula 1. There are simply more and more important issues that are coming to the fore. And that's why the question of the relevance of Formula 1 arises for many people.

But are you still a fan?

Naturally! I'm totally euphoric about our sport! That's exactly why I see how important it is to look at him critically. The way we deal with resources is not a role model, we should be much more economical. If that is not the case soon, the question will quickly arise around the world as to whether Formula 1 is still viable. And then interest should decrease everywhere, as has already happened in Germany.

Exciting theory. The general perception is rather: Formula 1 is going through the roof everywhere, just not in Germany and Brazil, because people there don't want to spend money on pay TV.

The problem is deeper. We as a society do not want to underestimate the emergency we are in. In the decades to come, we will increasingly have to ask ourselves the question: What is still possible, what can we still afford? And every sport then has to justify itself for the way in which it is played.

So not just Formula 1?

Not at all. Us first, of course, because in our sport we drive around, burn resources and still need fossil fuels. But a football World Cup, the Olympic Games, the Bundesliga too: every major event has to reinvent itself and see how it can leave a smaller footprint.

From ecological to sporting criticism: The season began with a technology amendment that was announced with great pomp and aimed at pushing the field closer together. Why has the season turned out to be the most one-sided in years?

After big rule changes there is often a gap between a top team and the rest. The goal was to make overtaking and the show better and to make it easier for us to overtake. It's gotten a little better, but the big revolution that was announced with the new rules didn't materialize. It would have been better for the sport this season to have left the rules as they were. However, a process has been started that has the potential to bring the field closer together in the coming years. Also thanks to the budget cap, not only the teams with a lot or a lot of money will win in the long term, but also the smaller teams. However, this will only happen in a horizon of five years.

It was far more exciting in 2010: you only snagged your first title in the last race. Has Abu Dhabi been a happy place for you since then?

(laughs) Well, the racetrack and what happened on the racetrack, yes! I have many fond memories of winning the 2010 World Cup. It doesn't feel like yesterday. And a lot has happened since then.

Red Bull boss Dietrich Mateschitz then said that the way to the world championship title in the next few years would only be through you. And adds: Provided he's in the right car. The sentence was prophetic: it included all the titles that followed, but also your sometimes dreary years in worse cars. A driver drives the competition to the ground in the Red Bull and fails to win a title after switching to Ferrari and Aston Martin . Do you understand critics who say: what kind of sport is that?

The dependency of a driver on the team and material is actually enormous. But even in the Bundesliga you don't really have a chance of winning the championship if you're not FC Bayern.

The difference, however, is that while a player can shine on a bad football team, it's much harder on a Haas or Aston Martin.

Formula 1 has always been like this. In the fifties, in the seventies, and it's still like that today. From this point of view, however, the past few years have been very instructive for me. In the beginning, my aspirations in Formula 1 were very much focused on success. And then success came, very quickly and very powerfully. I rode the wave for as long as the wave was available.

A wave called Red Bull , on which you won four world titles...

Well, and then in the last few years the water has been under my board (laughs) ... or the wind has been taken out of my sails. But that doesn't mean my efforts are any smaller. I learned that there is a midfield and a backfield that I didn't bother with that much before because it was too far away. In any case, something interesting also happens there: the efforts are just as great, but the reward is completely absent.

Completely?

I would say yes. And that is of course a very, very hard bread for the motivation of the teams and also the drivers. They bob around in the back for years, go unnoticed and hope that they will take the small chance to shine when they present themselves. They are not only dependent on their motivation, their skills and talent - but also on the surrounding environment. It takes a bit of luck to be in the right place at the right time. The past few years have shaped me in this respect and taught me a lot, including about myself. In that respect, I don't want to do without them, even if I could have given them all away from a sporting point of view.

When we spoke in 2018, you said: your dream isn't finished yet, you still wanted to be world champion in a red car like your role model Michael Schumacher. Do you now console yourself with the belief that you had no chance of winning the Ferrari title?

We did not make it. So I could say: We didn't stand a chance. Or I could torture myself and ask: what was missing from the car? What slowed us down in development? What was perhaps structurally not ideal? You could have recognized some things and saved yourself some mistakes. But it wasn't like that. We tried everything as a team and gave everything. Even in hindsight, it doesn't feel like I left anything behind or that I was completely off track. Yes, I think unfortunately we didn't have a real chance to fight to the end.

Because Mercedes was too powerful?

You have to be fair enough to accept that the Mercedes- Lewis Hamilton package was the best. They had a better pace of development and therefore drove better than us. Which of course is a shame. I think I can live with that now as well as with the question of whether this is the right time for me to say goodbye. Or whether it might have needed another sense of achievement.

The question then arises as to what a sense of achievement in the Aston Martin could even look like.

What is the right time? Do you need a title to finish? A won race? A fastest lap? Any climax? Those are all questions I asked myself. It's not my fault if people expect something just because it would have been a nicer story. Or when they nag because they think my career is not smooth because I drive around the back and quit anyway. I'm the only one who has to live or deal with my situation. And after all these years I know exactly what I can do. I know what it takes to win races. And I know I don't have any of that right now. I'm still so confident in myself that I say: If I'm in the right package and have the right attitude, then I can get back up there at the front. Still.

When Nico Rosberg retired after his only title, not everyone was pleased either: critics said he fled because he felt he would never defeat Lewis Hamilton again.

Even. The length of time after your career is so infinitely long. Definitely wanting to win another title is not a recipe for success for the 40 or 50 years that follow. And I was lucky enough to be able to celebrate so many titles that I don't even know which one was the best. Just because you stopped with a title doesn't mean your career after your career will be 100 percent great.

After all, Nico Rosberg made it into the TV show The Lion's Den. But because you so often talk about your career after your career and recently said in Der Spiegel that you wanted to do it like Stefan Raab: just finish and then go underground. Anyone who has followed your activities beyond the race track will understand: you want to do things differently than Stefan Raab. They create a new stage for themselves so as not to disappear afterwards.

(laughs) Time will tell. I just said that I admire it when someone manages to transform their life in such a way that they say: I don't need any of this anymore! Maybe you can now simply bring your experience, your strengths and also your knowledge, which you have brought to bear in front of the camera over the years, behind the camera. So maybe you still work in the same profession, but you don't need the limelight as much anymore.

Fortunately, more people work behind the camera than in front of the camera in Formula 1 anyway.

Honestly, I wish I could find something I'm happy with. I want to experience good luck without having to drive (laughs) .

But to your legacy as a critic of Formula 1: Formula 1 is expanding into more and more countries where human rights are not respected. Football fans are protesting in the stadiums against the World Cup, which begins in Qatar on Sunday . Are motorsport fans less political?

Good question. In controversial countries like Qatar, football was kicked off ten years ago. There may not have been a World Cup yet, but that's where clubs held their winter camps.

FC Bayern has been going to Qatar regularly for years.

For example. We as Formula 1 have been organizing races in these countries for a long time. I think our world should keep evolving. That's why certain things can no longer be considered okay.

Qatar's World Cup ambassador described being gay as "mental damage" in front of the camera in a ZDF documentary.

That is not how it works! This is outrageous!

The mantra of the Qatari whitewashers that society is becoming more liberal, you just have to keep going there, organize big events and wait a few years - isn't that obviously a misconception?

Might be. But Formula 1 is booming internationally and is opening up to a younger audience thanks to the Netflix series "Drive to Survive". And when these young people come to the races, they may hear from other spectators that unbearable tone that many women, for example, suffer from. Then the young people can raise their voices and say: Hey, that's not possible! And this is how debates may arise that will help society as a whole. What is definitely no longer possible: that someone in a country where there are human rights violations talks their way out; For example with the argument: "That's just the way it is with us. Get over it!"

Isn't it naïve to believe that such a change is taking place?

That's why I specifically demand that sport should give itself a compass, set up a moral code and then stick to it. There it is then precisely determined what the basic political requirements must be in order for sport to be allowed to take place in a country. Certain things and certain countries are simply no longer there. Too much is too much. And then we say no as Formula 1 or FIFA . And don't just nod politely and take the money or help us with any other perks the country might offer.

For example, it could say: Don't drive in countries where critical journalists are cut up with bone saws. Formula 1 has signed a ten-year contract with Saudi Arabia.

Again: homophobic comments like that of the World Cup ambassador are absolutely unacceptable. And it puts the athletes in an extremely difficult situation: us drivers in Formula One, but also the players who will take part in the World Cup. You all have to ask yourself a very difficult question: Can I or am I even allowed to practice my sport in this place?

Your Answer?

You can't expect the players to get together and decide: We're skipping this moment, this unique feature in our lives, playing a World Cup, for political reasons. On the other hand, that would be an extremely good sign. It's difficult for the players, but easier for the spectators. You just couldn't look. I myself really enjoy watching football and I love European and World Cups. But sometimes I think: If I don't watch now, don't I also punish all the players who do their best for themselves and their team and are passionate about their sport? But when I think about it that way...

Then?

If statements like those of the World Cup ambassador are made, then we simply shouldn't go to Qatar! The saying was more than backward-looking. The sport, the whole association should say: This is not the right place to do sport there.

Especially since the ambassador still gets money to show as friendly a face as possible to the outside world. He proves that nothing gets better just because sport is organized.

There's a chance. Even our Western societies have not eaten wisdom with spoons and can now say: Dear country XY, do everything as we do and everything will be fine! We also have things that should be significantly better. But if you want to accelerate change in Qatar or Saudi Arabia, then as a sport we need transparency: we have to publish the unembellished numbers of how much money we collect from the countries. And we have to clearly communicate how much of it flows back into projects that then really drive change there on the ground.

A very large and a very small number.

Allegedly. But as long as these issues remain in the background and are veiled, as long as no one knows how much money is being spent and what is being done with it, we will remain stationary. It also doesn't help if you meet somewhere and take a picture of banging a spade in the ground or planting a tree.

You went karting with young women in Saudi Arabia and published photos of it.

That was only a small gesture, but social change does not come for free. Many important projects cost money. And if a country has plenty of money to attract big sport, then some of it, even a large part, should be used to improve people's lives.

Some problems in Qatar cannot be solved by projects. Homosexuality is forbidden, the ambassador only said what is the law. So shouldn't the code you're asking for it say: don't drive in countries where same-sex lovers are jailed?

Just as. Fifa, Formula 1 and other sports associations should also consistently demand the implementation of the demands that they formulate in flowery words. And then say: You can bid as much money as you want, but we won't come. At the moment it is unfortunately still the case that as an organizer you can get away with it if you take a few nice photos. The fundamental problem is another.

That would?

There is still no authority that can demand consequences if an association does not meet the requirements it sets for itself. Formula 1 has set itself the goal of being climate neutral by 2030. Nice and good. But why can't it be checked by an independent and critical body along the way? To then live with the consequences and possible penalties, whatever they may look like? What happens if Formula 1 takes a wrong turn on the way to climate neutrality and doesn't meet its own demands? Or FIFA on the way to more equality and diversity? Unfortunately, at the moment it's like this: Formula 1 controls Formula 1, and Fifa controls Fifa.

But who should control the big associations?

There are independent instances that deal with all kinds of tests that could be won. But it would help if you didn't just set an abstract goal, but divided the way there into transparent intermediate stages. And then there's the general public, the fans in the stands, journalists reporting on it. And wouldn't that be a very, very broad, international and good control body? So I don't see why a lot of problems can't be solved with transparency.

It's a pity that you drive your last race. Actually, because of your sense of mission, you should be forced to continue to circle until retirement age.

Oh, I do not know ...

With all his love for Fernando Alonso, it is unlikely that he would be interested in anyone other than Fernando Alonso in his old racing days. And there is no one to be seen growing up as a political driver.

Every driver has his or her own issues... Maybe some drivers are still too young. But the climate issue will also come to the fore with them. Even if they don't want to.

After leaving Haas a year ago, Mick Schumacher is without a cockpit in Formula 1. Various driver's seats have become vacant in the past few weeks, but no team boss has thought of Schumacher. How do you explain that his services are not in greater demand?

It would be a shame for the sport if it lost Mick. We talked about the fact that in some cars you can't shine as a driver. And sometimes a driver and his car don't go together at all. Mick has had a difficult year, but has set his highlights and accents. As high as you sometimes fly in Formula 1, you can quickly fall again. Basically, you are never as good as people say you are. But you're never as bad as people say you are. Of course, I wish that Mick stays in Formula 1, because that would be very, very important for Germany's motorsport scene .

Nevertheless: You won your first race in the defeated Toro Rosso. Michael Schumacher amazed the world in a Jordan. How do you recognize a talent? And how do you recognize when a talent isn't that great after all?

It's a difficult subject for me: I know Mick better than most drivers and have known for a very long time. He has a lot of potential. Although he may not be the type to get in the car and run into everyone like some people are. Mick is someone who can always improve. This is his gift. But will it then come to the point where he regularly wins and competes for the title? I don't know that. Mick is still too young for such an assessment. I can only hope he gets the time to find out.

#Sebastian Vettel #F1 #Seb telling F1 to put its money where its mouth is #Seb telling F1 to open the books and prove it #Also if anybody tries to use this as an excuse to be Islamophobic I will personally come and kick you 👍 #Tw: homophobia

[my-moony-and-padfoot]

A hand to hold

Word count: 3 500

TW: eating problems, disordered eating talking about it and mentions of throwing up etc. It's set in the fifth book, kind of, it doesn't really matter but anyway Note: I wrote almost all of this in one sitting, so even though I've proofread this twice now there still might be weird bits here and there. Because quite literally this is written in the span of five hours, just my thoughts flowing, I hope you can follow :)

Sirius stared at the plate of food in front of him, there wasn't a lot, some vegetables, and chicken, but he didn't really feel like eating, the thought just made him feel sick. He closed his eyes, taking a few deep breaths before looking around. Tonks was sitting across from him, eating her food and chatting with Ginny, then glanced at Molly who was at the end of the table, she was already done, her head resting on her hand as she waited for everyone else to be done as well, so she could clean.

He glanced back down at his plate, swallowing down the growing sickness, before looking away. The seat on his right was empty, there was no one he could hold hands with secretly underneath the table. A simple gesture, but it just felt like home. It was something they had done since they were kids, and every time Remus was away he missed it and realized how important it actually was to him. It had been a week now and Remus should've been back yesterday, so he was starting to get worried.

Eventually, he ate a few pieces of the chicken and a few slices of the steamed carrots. It didn't really taste like anything, but at the same time it tasted too much, making him feel sick, but Sirius did his best to ignore that feeling.

When people started to be done and left the kitchen, Sirius decided to stay behind and do the cleaning, letting Molly go do whatever else she had on her endless to-do list. She thanked him before leaving the kitchen, and he just smiled before focusing on the task. Though they didn't always come along, he still liked to help her every now and then. Right now, he just needed something to do, something to do to stop the continuous buzzing in his brain.

He gathered everyone's used dishes, emptying them and washing them by hand. He had always liked washing the dishes by hand even though he could use magic, Sirius just liked doing it like that. When he was done washing and drying them, he set them back into their places.

After the kitchen was cleaned, he went upstairs and into his bedroom, well, what was now his bedroom. He had refused to sleep in his childhood bedroom, though he hadn't told the reason to anyone, not even to Remus when he had asked. The things that had happened there he had always kept to himself, and he would do it in the future too.

He was tired and wanted to sleep, it felt like he was always tired, no matter how much he'd sleep, he'd be tired even if he did nothing but lay in bed, he was just tired. He sat down on his bed, grabbing Remus' jumper from the floor where it had been left a week ago. It still faintly smelled like Remus; vanilla, and occasional cigarettes, but it wasn't enough to soothe the ache in his chest he felt when he thought about Remus.

The smell was comforting, it had always been, ever since their days in Hogwarts, it just was something he had found comfort in even in the hardest of times. That was one of the things he had missed the most during those twelve years, and still, he missed it every time Remus was away.

It was only afternoon, he had already decided not to come out of his bedroom before the next morning, so he changed into the red checkered pyjama pants, pulling Remus' jumper over his head. There was an old record player in the corner of the room, the only thing he had brought from his old bedroom. He put some classical music to play in the background, not liking the quietness of the room.

Then he laid down in the middle of his bed on his side, grabbing a pillow to hug, needing something to hold, so he could ground himself because Remus wasn't there, or no one else for that matter.

Sirius was really starting to be worried about Remus, he was meant to be back yesterday, and he wasn't. He knew Remus didn't like being where he was now, so he didn't really understand why he'd stay there for longer than he needed to.

Maybe something had happened? Something bad and he just didn't know, or simply wasn't told. What if it had been a rough full moon, and he had gotten really ill after because that happened often. Remus also didn't like to be alone after his transformation, and even though Sirius knew he technically wouldn't be alone, still he had this dreadful feeling that something was horribly wrong.

Lately, he had been thinking about Azkaban a lot, and every so often he felt like he was still there. It was this weird memory of cold stone wall on his back, the wind blowing through the bars at the small window, the Dimentors sweeping past. The incredible coldness he could feel deep in his bones, the coldness that wasn't just a feeling, but rather an emotion that made him forget and feel forgotten. It reminded him of all those nights he had spent looking at the moon, sometimes it was full, sometimes creasing, and sometimes it matched the tattoo inked on his wrist. But every time the moon came up, it brought Remus to his mind, his moony.

There was this reappearing thought where he felt like he was still prisoned, like he had always been. Like he had gone from one prison to another all his life. When he was a child, he had been locked up in his home until school, then he had spent twelve years of his life in Azkaban knowing he was innocent. And now, he was here again, back at his childhood home, without permission to go outside.

Like was trapped inside this house, no way to escape, but at the same time nothing to escape from anymore. His parents weren't there anymore, none of the horrible things he had to go through wouldn't happen anymore, it was only a memory. Maybe it was that, maybe it was the memories making him feel trapped and stuck in the same place.

It was almost three hours later when he heard a knock at his door, pulling him out of his thoughts. As he got up he realized that the music had stopped as well, how hadn't he noticed? Maybe he had drifted off or something.

Getting up made his head spin slightly, and he had to wait a moment to gain balance, but he decided to just ignore it. Sirius opened the door, seeing Tonks standing there with a cup of tea in her hands. “I thought you'd like some tea.” She said with a smile, giving the cup to Sirius, who smiled back, even though he felt nothing like smiling. He set the cup down onto the dresser next to the door, leaning against the door frame to keep himself upright as he looked at Tonks. The dizziness had grown over the past few hours more than he had expected it to, and it was hard to keep himself balanced. “Everything alright, Sirius?”

“Mm yes. Just tired. Don't worry, Dora.” She nodded, though gave him a pointed look because of the name. “Alright sorry, thanks for the tea though.”

“You're welcome.” Tonks smiled again. “Have you- Have you heard anything from Remus?” Sirius shook his head, looking away momentarily, the same dreadful feeling coming rushing back. “I'm sure he'll be back soon, try not to worry too much.”

Sirius nodded with a small smile, looking back at her, playing with a loose thread on the sleeve of his jumper. “Albus visited.” She said after a moment of silence.

“Oh.”

“Nothing new, just repeating old things, everyone didn't even have to be there.” Sirius nodded. “Anyway, I just wanted to see you before I go.”

“Say hello to your mum and dad for me.” Sirius smiled, and tonks nodded, suddenly pulling Sirius into a hug. It took him by surprise, and the tight grip hurt, but he hugged her back, patting her back a few times. “see you.”

“See you, bye, Siri.” He waved at her before slipping back into his bedroom and closing the door behind him. He grabbed the tea cup, sitting down at the desk with it, he glanced at himself in the small mirror, not really liking what he saw there. He took a small sip of the tea, it was made in the way he liked it to be, lots of honey, but today was one of those days when the sweetness of it made him want to throw up.

It wasn't the first time this was happening, Sirius knew the feeling all too well, but he never said it out loud. He didn't exactly know what it was or where it came from and why it happened. The feeling just came, and stayed, not going away.

But it had always sort have been there, the weird feeling that came with eating every now and then. When they were in school, it always got worse after the holidays, he always got thinner during the summer and Christmas breaks, and Remus had always been the one to notice. It always took some time until he'd admit what he had been doing, and talk about it and let Remus actually help.

When he was in Azkaban, he didn't get to choose what he'd eat and when he'd eat or how much. There was this same small portion of food each day, and Sirius wasn't sure if he liked that or not. But when he got out of there, he continued in that same routine without even realizing what happened until it was a little too late.

Remus had once again been the one to notice what he was doing and how he kept getting thinner and thinner whenever they saw each other. And for a few months it had been better, he had been doing good, but some time ago, it had taken a turn for the worse once again. Sirius did realize that it always got worse when Remus was away because then there was no one keeping an eye on him and his eating habits. He could do whatever he pleased without making anyone throwing worried glances at him and asking him to eat. Though sometimes he missed that too, missed the worried glances and someone just caring.

His tea had gone cold, not that it mattered, he wasn't going to drink it. He did appreciate the gesture, and he could tell tonks had seen him during dinner, and that he simply didn't eat. Because she usually didn't come to say goodbyes to him that often, she did that only when she was worried, but not worried enough to say it out loud.

Sirius got back into bed, this time getting under the covers and just listening. Someone was walking up the stairs, someone was pacing around in the bedroom above him. Doors closing and opening, stairs creaking because no one else but him knew which ones to avoid.

But after a while those sounds died out too, everyone had gone to bed, or at least locked themselves into their bedrooms. But Sirius couldn't find himself to fall asleep as the clock ticked on. He was too worried, too unwell and too scared. There was just too much of everything.

It was a few hours later when Sirius heard the front door opening downstairs, immediately making him scared, though he knew no one he didn't know had access to this place. Then someone walked up the stairs, but none of them creaked, Sirius turned to lay on his side, so he'd be facing the door.

The light that was on shined into the hallway in a way that Sirius could see the shadow of whoever would walk past. When the shadow came, it stopped in front of his door, and then the door slowly creaked open, and Remus slipped in, trying to be as quiet as possible.

“Hi.” He smiled, looking at Sirius, who smiled back with a small, but genuine smile. “I thought you'd be sleeping already.” Remus said, starting to change his clothes into something much more comfortable than what he was wearing.

When he was dressed in his pyjamas and a new clean jumper, he sat down on the edge of the bed, next to Sirius. “Why are you not sleeping?”

“Dunno.”

“Just can't sleep?” Remus started to play with Sirius' hair, twirling the curls with his fingers. Sirius shrugged. “Okay.”

“Cuddles?” Sirius asked quietly, looking up at Remus who smiled, nodding before he laid down. Sirius rested his head onto Remus' chest, closing his eyes with a content sigh. “I missed you.” He whispered, throwing one of his legs over Remus', who wrapped his arms around Sirius.

“Missed you too.” He whispered into Sirius' hair. "m'sorry, they just wouldn't let me leave when I wanted to. And Albus sent me a letter about something I had to do before I could come back.”

Sirius nodded, snuggling closer to Remus. “you're still a jumper thief.” Remus said, and Sirius could hear the slight grin in his voice. Remus had been calling him a thief as long as he could remember, he hadn't done it in a while, though. “Did twelve years teach you nothing about law?”

Sirius smiled slightly, but he didn't want to think about that now. “Don't, re. Please.”

“Okay, sorry.” He whispered, before letting the silence fall over them. Remus gently rubbed Sirius' side over his jumper, then he let his hand slip underneath his jumper. He felt Sirius' ribs, and hip bone, but Remus was sure that they stuck through more than they had before.

He felt bad that Sirius did it to himself, he didn't always do it on purpose, but sometimes he did and it always worried Remus. Sirius looked tired, dark circles under his eyes, his hair was tangled from the back and his lips chapped, like he'd forgotten to take care of himself.

“Love?” He whispered after a while, and Sirius hummed, fluttering his eyes open. “How have you been sleeping?”

“Just fine.”

“Don't have to lie to me, y'know.” He said gently, not wanting to push Sirius into talking if he didn't want to, but knowing at the same time that it would be better if they talked, it always helped, and Sirius knew that too. “I only want to help you, yeah? Don't want anything bad for you.”

“Can't sleep. It's like my mind is running all the time.” He mumbled. “Been having bad dreams.”

“You've been having more nightmares?” Sirius nodded. “poor baby.” Remus whispered, kissing his head. “When was the last time you ate?” Remus asked, dreading the answer, as usually, it wasn't anything good.

“Today.”

“Properly, Sirius.”

“I don't know. A few days ago?” He said slowly, and quietly. “Just don't feel well. I feel sick.”

“You feel sick 'cause you haven't eaten.” Remus said, waiting for Sirius' reaction before continuing. But it didn't come, he stayed quiet, starting to draw shapes on Remus' side with his finger. “And if you don't eat, you'll start feeling even more sick. I know it's hard, I know love, but you need to eat.”

Sirius shook his head. “c'mon, look at me.” He whispered softly, and Sirius nodded slightly, shifting, so he could look at Remus, his chin resting on Remus' chest. “Tell me what you're thinking about?”

“I don't know, Remus.” He said. “It just feels so- wrong. It's stupid.”

“It's not.” Remus said, brushing a loose curl behind Sirius' ear. “You said you are today, what did you have?”

“Some vegetables and a small piece of chicken.” He admitted quietly. “Dora brought some tea.”

“Did you drink it?” Sirius shook his head, hiding his face into Remus' chest. “That's alright. Don't worry. Let's get up.”

“No.” He protested, not wanting Remus to drag him downstairs and eat something, like he knew Remus would do. He always did. He appreciated it, yes, and knew it was for the better, but still, he still didn't want it. “Remus, please no.”

“Sirius?” He whispered, and Sirius looked back at him. “I know you don't want to, but you look like you're going to pass out any minute. And I'd rather not have that. Let's get up.”

Sirius nodded slowly, moving to let Remus up from underneath him. Then he slowly sat up and inched closer to the edge of the bed, the ever-growing dizziness was even worse now than it had been when tonks came. He was usually very used to the constant nausea and dizziness, but sometimes it just tipped on the side of too much.

He looked up at Remus, who smiled slightly, offering his hand to Sirius. He let Remus pull him up from bed by his hand, the sudden upright position made his head spin, and he closed his eyes. He did notice the hands holding on to his shoulders, it did help to steady himself on his feet.

“Ready to go?” He asked after a moment, and Sirius nodded slightly, looking up at Remus, he looked really worried now, and it made Sirius feel bad. Remus took his hand, slowly leading him out of the room and down the stairs.

When they got down to the kitchen, he sat down on the chair, tucking his knees up to his chest as he watched Remus look through the cupboards.

Then there were two slices of toast and a glass of water set in front of him, and Remus sat across from him with a tea cup. “You don't have to eat all of it, and I can find something else for you if you'd like, but just something, please?”

Sirius nodded, staring at the two lightly buttered slices, taking a few deep breaths, but eventually, he just hit his forehead on his knees, not wanting to look at it anymore.

It broke Remus' heart to watch Sirius struggle so much, it broke it even more that there was nothing he could do or say to make it better. The only thing he could do was to be there with him, trying to support him the best he could and offer comfort when he needed it. Even though he didn't exactly understand why Sirius did this or why it happened, he didn't know the reason behind it, but he'd still be there, the reason didn't really matter.

He reached across the table, placing his hand over Sirius' shaking one that was resting on his knees. He gave it a reassuring squeeze, before intertwining their fingers together.

It took some time until Sirius finally looked up, he first glanced at Remus, then at the plate that was still in front of him. His eyes looked wet, like he was on the verge of crying and like he had been holding the tears for a while. “Talk to me.” He whispered softly, rubbing small circles into Sirius' wrist with his thumb.

“I feel really sick.” Sirius whispered. “I can't Rem. I just- I don't want to. I can't.”

“Yeah you can, I know you can.” Remus said, looking Sirius in the eyes, he was looking back at him, but not really, there was just something off, but Remus could quite tell what it was. “But I also know it's scary and difficult, and there's nothing wrong with feeling like this, absolutely nothing.”

Sirius nodded slowly, looking down at the plate, biting his lip. “I know you're feeling awful and sick right now. But you're going to feel worse if you continue this.” Remus tried to reason, but at the same time he tried not to be too harsh because that wasn't good either. “Just have a small bit? And let's see how you feel after?”

Sirius nodded after a minute, glancing at Remus, before letting go of his hand, he grabbed one of the slices, taking a small bite after a few deep breaths. He closed his as he slowly chewed on the piece, it soon turned into tasteless mush that felt impossible to swallow down, but eventually, he managed.

He wasn't sure if it made the nausea or the spinning in his head worse or if it did nothing, so he took another small bite. It didn't feel good, but it didn't exactly feel bad either. He wasn't sure what the feeling was, so he let it be, taking a few more bites of the toast, though still chewing for way too long.

Sirius could feel Remus' worried gaze on him the whole time, but he didn't mind. He knew Remus was worried and that he couldn't help it, he had always done it, ever since they were young. It was fine. It wasn't the judgmental type of staring that he didn't like, and was used to, it wasn't that, so it was okay.

It took a long until Sirius was done with the first slice, but time didn't matter, it was just important that he ate. “Feel like you can eat the other one?” Remus asked, and Sirius shook his head, glancing at him as if to check it was okay. He nodded, getting up from the chair, grabbing his tea cup and Sirius' plate, quickly cleaning them.

When he was done, he walked back over to Sirius, who set down the now empty glass of water. Sirius looked up at him, his eyes still looked shiny and he just looked so sad. Remus reached his hand to cup his cheek, gently running his thumb over the sharp cheekbone.

He leaned down to kiss Sirius' forehead, who closed his eyes, focusing on it. When Remus leaned back, he offered his hand to Sirius, pulling him up and into a hug when he took it.

Sirius hid his face into Remus' neck, holding on tightly, as if Remus would just slip away. The slow gentle hand going up and down his spine, soft whispers into his hair, and the steady breathing made him feel calm and gave something to focus on.

“Let's go to bed, love.” Remus whispered after a while, and Sirius nodded slightly, taking a few more moments before pulling away from the warm embrace, letting Remus take his hand again and lead up to their bedroom.

A/N:

Hello, hope you enjoyed this one :) and could follow it just fine.

I like the idea of Sirius and Tonks having some kind of a relationship, that they care for each other because they're cousins so I thought I'd add that into this, hope you liked it too

This one is a little different than what I usually write, it has very little dialogue, because most of my works are more dialogue than describing things, if you know what I mean. It was fun to write though. It also has significantly less pet names than what I usually use, but I thought it wouldn't have fit as well in this

Anyway, take care, see you

(please tell me if there's something else I should tag)

<3

#sirius black #remus lupin #sirius orion black #remus john lupin #remus x sirius #sirius x remus #wolfstar #fluff #fluff? #fluff and angst #angst #disordered eating mention #tw eating issues #tw disordered eating #disordered eating thoughts #eating disoder trigger warning #order of the phoenix #tw emetophobia

[twila-star]

Hey guys! Did you miss me?!

I'll admit I have been taking a much needed break from tumblr while I try to work on my unfinished WIPs to post. I have just been feeling uninspired and stuck so I've been working on the way I used to write and enjoy doing it too.

This includes little snippets and one-shots of aus I've thought of and wrote in an inspired frenzy, no editting, just raw, lol.

I don't know how much consistent activity I'll have moving forward but I feel like I'm making good progress with my creative block and hope to show all my new projects I'm working on now!

So here's one of my WIPs, au where there's a 'zombie' infection turning people into chimeras!

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Killua felt the chill roll down his back along the sweat rolling down his tense spine. Killua’s eyebrow twitched as he heard the click of Gon’s gun when he shifted in front of him and Killua reminded himself to be as still as he possibly could as he gazed at the broad span of Gon’s shoulders instead of the people beyond him. Killua could have snorted as he saw the red light reflecting off of Gon’s black leathers.

“Gon, move-” Pokkle started, in a reasonable, soothing tone.

“Shut it.” Gon growled sharply, and Killua had to hand it to Pokkle for keeping his cool in this situation but he’s sure that having a whole guard detail beside him helps with that. Pokkle breaths in a deep breath, Gon trains his gun on the movement smoothly,  trying his best to put reasoning behind his words without escalating. It was why he was voted to be in charge of their little sanctuary group.

“Gon, you see what the indicator says,” Pokkle said, eyes firm but full of sorrow, at this point everyone knew everyone else intimately like family. “He is infected.”

Outside, somewhere above them, a chimera cry screeched like glass, sending a skittering of fear down Killua’s spine, ebbed by the fact he was still safe in their community bunker. For now anyway. The cry was right on time, tragically hilarious as though as reminder of the vicious monster Killua will soon turn into. The glaring danger they’ve all worked hard to protect and hide each other from. If Killua is going to turn into that, the answer on what to do next is obvious.

“No!” Gon’s voice boomed, his frame blocking most of Killua’s center from any shots the 6 guns pointing back in response to Gon’s one might do. Gon’s voice was adament in resolution, but Killua could hear how it shook. What he was scared of now, there must be a landry list Killua could only guess. He wished he could turn Gon around and ease him as he’s done a thousand times before. “Killua won’t turn into that. He won’t.” Gon’s head moved a fraction of an inch, as though he wanted to turn his head and check on Killua himself, but Gon definitely knows better than to take his eyes off who was in front of him. Killua knows them just as well not to make any sudden movements despite still being a sentient human, not a merciless chimera just yet.

“Gon, every instance we have ever had of someone being infected never results in anything other than them becoming a murderous chimera. You remember that last instance with Reina, and what happened afterwards was a disaster. You agreed for the best of everyone’s interest was to never let anything like that happen again.” Pokkle said, and pointedly looked up at their screening device behind them. It had two lights at the top, black marker written over the bulbs, human over the green light and ‘chimera’ over the red light. The one that was lit up now once Killua ran through diagnostics.

Gon’s arm holding the gun shook as though he was fighting against logic and his emotions. Only Killua’s eyes moved as he carefully regarded the back of Gon’s head, and gods he wished he could see what face he was making, figure out what he was thinking with just a glance in his eyes. They were close enough that they could practically read each other’s minds.

“That was different! THIS is different- Killua- it was never suppose to happen to someone I know!” Gon said, his voice raw and heartbreaking with emotion. “It was never suppose to happen to Killua.” Gon said, his voice gravelly low and Killua knew he was crying. Killua only allowed himself a small intake of emotion charged breath, still keeping with his self preservation instinct to be a still and unthreatening statue. He barely had time to let the knowledge of what this meant for himself- slowly losing his mind to a sickness that will cause him to kill anything that moves outside fellow chimeras (no, no killing, not again), Killua’s heart instead was breaking for Gon. Gon would at least still have his mind, left alone to long after Killua while Killua won’t remember a thing about Gon. He will lose his best friend, his everything, to a rampant pandemic creating half animal powerful monsters.

Pokkle’s eyes watered in a snap moment and a tear fell loose at Gon’s insistence. Killua didn’t dare his heart to flutter with something as dangerous as hope at the look in his eyes. Pokkle glanced left and right at the guards training their guns steadily on the two bunker valuable agents, and frowned, shaking his head as thought he only know just saw what was happening.

“G-Gon…” Pokkle’s voice broke and Killua saw Gon’s shoulders drop a fragment. It caused the tight coil in Killua’s chest to unwind a smidge in turn. “What would you have me do? He’s a danger to everyone here if he stays, he’s another dangerous number if we let him go. There is no cure yet. What would you have me do?” Pokkle sounds as stuck and shaken as Gon. Pokkle has his own burdens, his own people he needs to protect- and the one willing to make the most brutal of decisions to do that. Ponzu, Killua wondered if Pokkle was thinking what he would do in Gon’s shoes if it was his life partner Ponzu that triggered the chimera indication.

“Let us go.” Gon said. Us, he said. Not Killua.

“Gon…” Killua dared to speak for the first time since that terrible moment after his diagnosis, a panicked warning in his voice.

“Gon, that’s-” Pokkle started too, his eyes hardening again.

“Let us go!” Gon said again, louder and more determined, and Killua knows that tone. He’s been on the receiving end of Gon’s stubborn mind before. “I’m not leaving Killua and I’m not letting you kill him. We leave the bunker, you can keep everyone safe, and I’ll bring us as far away from here as possible so there won’t be a chance he can attack our usual patrols and scavenging spots.” Gon said, his voice resolute like he held the simple answer to everything. Pokkle’s frown eased but Killua was still beside himself. More so now that Pokkle seemed to be considering it.

“Gon, that’s a death sentence. You go with Killua, then when he changes, he’ll kill you. If you don’t die to the other chimera before or after.” Pokkle argued. If Killua didn’t know they would shoot him on the spot for it, he would jump forward in front of Gon and shake him by the shoulders and tell him there was no snowball;s chance in hell he was letting Gon do this.

“I…” Gon paused and seemed to have trusted he made enough progress with Pokkle to turn his head enough to meet Killua’s burning glare with one of his eyes, then back to the guard detail. “I love Killua. I don’t want this for him. If I need to, if he asks me to, if it comes down to it-” Gon said.

“That’s a lot of if’s Gon.” Killua hissed, livid.

“I’ll put him down myself. But I want to be with him.” Gon said, letting out a shaky breath, his shoulder’s tension finally loosened up. Killua bit his lip, a sharpened fang piercing his skin (was his teeth always this sharp?) and he made eye contact with Pokkle. He put as much pleading as he could into his eyes and shook his head slowly. Silently begging Pokkle to force Gon to let him go. If not just with a bullet through his head, at least to leave the bunker but to keep Gon here. Pokkle has dealt with Gon and Killua often as they are the number one agents to go out for scavenge and come back with the most results with the least possible setbacks or injuries. Pokkle knows Killua doens’t show a lot of emotion often, or even vulnerability, so he hoped Pokkle saw now that he was desperate as he poured his will to make sure tey stick to protocol. Eliminate infecteds. Keep the majority safe.

Even if Killua goes, the bunker still has a good bet with Gon helping to provide.

Pokkle took in his look and then regarded Gon. He closed his eyes, breathing in deep, and Killua knew he was about to make one of those brutal hard decisions.

“Fine. You both go.” Pokkle answered with a set eyes, eyes still glossy.

“What?!” Killua cried out, straightening up more as Gon sagged in relief before straightening up again and nodding, all business like he was given a package to deliver to an ally community. “Pokkle, you can’t be serious! I’m screwed but you have to save Gon! You can’t let him do this!” Killua said, and took his first step forward since he stepped out the machine. The guard’s guns raised again in alarm just as Gon turned and shoved a crooked arm into Killua’s to drag them back out past the machine.

“Gods bless.” Pokkle frowned, sad with a tragic frown as he watched Gon use his superior strength to muscle Killua out. Hah, he didn’t know tragic, if Killua ever got back here and got his hands on Pokkle, he was going to show him tragedy.

“Pokkle! Bring Gon back- He can’t stay out there with me! Gon-!” Killua cried and realized he was talking to the wrong idiot, because that idiot was only doing what this other idiot wants. “/Gon!/” Killua hissed, tripping over his own feet at the pace Gon was dragging him backwards. But it didn’t matter, he might as well have been being carried by Gon. “Gon, stop please, you can’t come with me! I’m sorry I was careless and I got infected but this isn’t your purgatory to deal with! Go back, please, we don’t know how this transmits, you could still be clean. Let me go and tell them you change your mind please..!” Killua cried, trying to find his footing to give Gon some kind of resistance but they were already up the stairs, the light of the door illuminating them. Killua barely recognized his voice as his own, it was pitched high in panic and desperation, and he was started to feel a rising frenzy in his chest to lash out and stop what’s happening, to protect his best friend. “Gon, at least look at me!” Killua’s voice cracked in a screech.

Gon stopped before they exited out to the decrepit streets above and whipped his head to glare at Killua. Killua’s chest pierced with cold  shock as he sucked in a gasp and whatever words he was going to say. Gon’s face was contorted between rage and grief, tears streaks still on his face from when he was presumably crying in front of Pokkle moments before. His lips were pulled back showing gnashed teeth and sucking in gasping breaths, probably from exertion having to haul Killua physically up stairs while he was struggling against him. And Killua could see through everything, something he sees in Gon rarely and yet much too often, an emotion Killua always wants to wipe away from Gon’s face and bolster his strength- it mirrored what Killua felt in this moment. 

Gon was terrified.

“/Don’t/…” Gon hissed, lowering his face closer to Killua, rage burning in those eyes. “Ask me something as impossible as that.” Killua pressed his lips together, his chest burning with so many emotions.

Now he knows why Pokkle let Gon go.

“Gon…” Killua whispered and he noted the wobble to Gon’s lip. Killua frowned, his heart hurt. He slowly shook his head. “I love you too…” He answered Gon’s earlier confession. They’ve never said it to each other before. Gon’s eyes widened, softer more liquid emotion pour into his eyes. Killua only took a breath before they were back on the same wavelength with each other, as always, and their lips were smashed together and their tongues delved into each other’s desperately, selfishly. They don’t know how long Killua has or if this will be the last time they can kiss like this. Killua’s chest roared with emotion and nearly overwhelmed him, but soon the ones that overcame every other emotion was love and affection for Gon. He was ruined and probably obsessed, and Killua realized Gon was probably the same way. Even if Gon stayed, he was as good as a liability, completely useless to the community as he either self destructed or lashed out and isolated himself from everyone after Killua left or died. The brutal decision Pokkle made was cutting down the community efficiency in half letting go both halves of the power agents.

Killua could barely process to feel bad for pokkle and the rest of the community when he just felt overwhelming relief that this terrible curse won’t be spent by himself but he’ll have his best friend to go through it with. They parted with heated, tentative pants. Killua’s etched Gon’s face into his very precious memory as Gon looked at him with those beautiful eyes he fell in love with.

“Together then…” Killua whispered and Gon nodded, trying to hold down a smile. Killua didn’t bother and smiled freely. They headed out as they did a hundred times, Killua watching Gon’s back and Killua at ease knowing Gon’s got his back, and kept to cover to avoid the chimeras.

#hxh #hxau #hxh au #killua #gon #Chimera au #Hunterxchimera #Hxc #Hunterxchimera au #chimera killua #no editting we die like men

[astrophileous]

Important! Please read!

I'm tagging the people who are on the Love Bugs taglist, so if you don't feel like reading through all of this that's fine!

Tag(s): @camilaheroine @crazyunsexycool @whateverrrrrrrrs @wifeyofeveryone @louderfortheback @marvelousgoldroses

Hello everyone, first of all I wanna start by saying I'm sorry for having seemingly disappeared for the past week. I know that I was supposed to be uploading two new parts of Love Bugs on Monday and Thursday, and I've missed both days so far without so much as an explanation. The truth is, I've been logging in and out for days trying to come up with a justified excuse for this delay, but I decided today that I will just tell you the truth of what's really happening.

I'm not doing very good at the moment.

I know this seems like a pathetic excuse, but it's the truth. As some of you know, I'm a full time college student and I've been slammed with school work for the past week. I'm tired all the time. Whenever I have even a little bit of free time, I use it to sleep. Life is just so hectic for me right now that writing Love Bugs has been kinda put in the back burner.

But that's not all the reason why I've been MIA.

A few days ago, someone left me an anonymous ask telling me that I've done a terrible job on the last few parts of Love Bugs.

Now, at first, I was gonna be the bigger person and ignore them altogether. But apparently that one little comment did more damage than I ever thought it could. For the past week, every time I went to revise my drafts for Love Bugs, all I could think about was how badly I needed them to be done perfectly to make sure no one else was gonna have this same thought about the upcoming parts. I kept thinking that what I wrote was lacking something. That it wasn't good enough to be published yet. And as a drastic measure, I ended up uploading nothing at all.

I know it seems silly to be this badly affected by one rude comment when I've gotten nothing but love from everyone else. But I guess this is your daily reminder that words do hurt, and even if they are written on the internet, it doesn't make them hurt less because behind all of these makeshift profiles and avatars are real people with real feelings and emotions.

Today, I finally braced myself to make this post. I thought it was unfair for all of you to not be offered at least an explanation about what's happening. If you're wondering when I will finally upload the next chapter of Love Bugs, then I'm sorry to tell you that I don't know yet. I have one completed part, but as I've explained above, I just keep going back to revise it again and again because I'm just not satisfied with it.

So, there you go. The reason behind my absence. I want to remind all of you too while we're here to please, please, please be kind to all of the fic writers and/or other content creators in your fandom. We're all doing all of this free of charge. So please, if you don't like something we make, scroll past it. Don't be mean. We don't owe you anything. Don't ruin something that's supposed to be fun just because you don't find it as enjoyable as others might.

This is all I'm gonna say for now. Hopefully, I will have gotten my shit together by the time next upload schedule rolls around so that you guys could have the next part of Love Bugs on Monday.

Thank you for reading all the way through of this long-ass rant. Have a great day xx

#zaranting #love bugs #daily reminder to be kind and show love to your favorite fandom creators because they're the backbone of our society

[makeitastrength]

20 questions for fic writers

Thank you so much to @cfr749, @sisterofficerlucychen, @mamadoc, and @queseraone for tagging me in this! I was on vacation last week which is why it's taken me forever to answer.

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

29

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

213,510

3. What fandoms do you write for?

On AO3, only The Rookie. But I used to write for Castle on ffnet

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

The spaces in between

Unless it is

The (E-rated) spaces in between

Tell me you love me (without any words)

Put me back together piece by piece

5. Do you respond to comments?

Yes! I used to be very inconsistent about this, but now I always make sure to reply to every comment because I want people to know how much I appreciate every single one

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I generally at least make sure the ending is hopeful, even if it's not completely happy. I guess the most angsty ending is either this one or this chapter

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Hmmm... most of them? But if I have to pick just one, I guess maybe this one since the whole thing is really just them being so completely in love and happy

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Luckily, no. Not in this fandom. I got quite a bit for Castle though, which is part of the reason I left that fandom behind

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I do. I seem to be incapable of writing just plain old smut, though. Somehow the emotions always find their way in. So if you're looking for porn + feelings, I've got you covered

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I have not, and I don't think I ever will

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yes, once, when I wrote for Castle. Someone took it from ffnet and posted it under their own name on AO3. Luckily, someone from the fandom noticed and told me, and I was able to get the fic taken down

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? 

Yes, a couple people translated a couple of my Castle fics back in the day

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I have not, but @queseraone and I have an idea for one that is hopefully going to be a summer hiatus project 😊

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

For so many years it was Caskett, but I think Chenford has taken over the top spot now

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Oh gosh, I have so many partial ideas and little tidbits jotted down on my laptop, and I have no idea which, if any, will ever see the light of day. In theory I will some day write all of them, but I know that's not actually going to happen

16. What are your writing strengths?

I'd like to think my strengths are characterization and attention to detail

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I'm not a very creative writer. I never have been. I'm not good at thinking up characters on my own or building my own story from scratch. But if you give me the characters and universe and all of those details, I could write about them all day

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

Hmmm. I don't think I've ever done it. If I did, I'd definitely use multiple translation tools to ensure accuracy. And if I knew someone who spoke the language, I would reach out to them too

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Castle

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

I've been asked this question multiple times over the past couple years, and I keep thinking someday I'll write something new that I really love and I'll be able to give a different answer. But nope. It's still this one

I think most everyone has already been tagged in this over the past week, so I'm tagging anyone who hasn't answered these questions yet but wants to!

#questions for fic writers #fanfiction #fanfic #writing #chenford

[ljandersen]

whats ur status on sideways 👀? No joke i think abt it daily.

Thank you for reaching out, Anon! It means a lot to me, knowing that a story I wrote is thought about every day. I think about it every day, too, being the author! It's still the story I'm proudest to have written.

As for the status on Sideways, it currently exists as a hand-written, rough first draft stored in a fire-proof safe. It needs massive changes -- complete scene rewrites and a ton of new scenes (mostly for the paragon timeline). It's currently on my back burner while I focus on an original project.

All the adjustments I made editing the 750k words in Part 1-4 has culminated in a major undertaking editing Part 5.

For instance, the reason Shepard joins the Alliance on Rannoch is different after my changes in Part 4. Before, I didn't have a very good reason for her being there and, because of that peripheral role, she wasn't directly involved in a lot of the things happening. Now she's acting Counselor. She's front and center.

It's a good change, the right change, which is why I did it. However, now a lot of the plot-centric happenings, which were only heard about or referenced through another character, need full scenes with Shepard being impactful and altering the outcomes (much better than being a removed observer).

This will require several new scenes and throwing out old ones that are now unnecessary. Then I need to relocate any extra bits of vital information not in the new scene, to other places in the story.

In addition to whole new scenes, I need to majorily revise whole scenes. There's a party scene on Rannoch, which now the goal behind it and what Shepard is doing during it, has changed. That series of scenes need rewritten.

That example of Shep's purpose on Rannoch changing scenes downstream is just one -- and a mostly spoiler free one -- of the dozens of changes I need to accomodate.

Also, the paragon timeline in particular requires a lot of new writing, maybe 50 k words of new scenes (so, the equivalent of a full novel).

Toward the end of writing the first draft of Sideways, I was starting to get worn down. Writing four storylines sometimes made it feel like I was spending weeks going nowhere, because I wasn't moving forward in the main Renegade timeline. Because of that frustration and wanting to reach the end, I chose to focus less on the paragon timeline, knowing I would need to add more to it during the editing. I left myself with some major work to do on that storyline to do it justice.

All of those reasons aside, the main reason Sideways Part 5 isn't ready is because I shifted focus for the time being. I'm serializing an original sci fi series and trying to establish myself an author. I intended to do this after I finished posting Sideways, but with the emergence of AI, I don't think the opportunity will be there for me if I wait.

Visibility for writing is going to become impossible and slow human writers, like me, will be washed away under the tide of AI mega production. There's an influential author in the indie world, for example, who has stated his intention to produce 10k novels a year, on par with the big publishing houses. That's one person, who with a handful of contractors previously put out a few dozen books a year, if that many, who now intends to do 10k a year!

My opportunity to find readers is now, while AI is still clunky and not universal, before people selling a back catalog of 100k books and with the ad spending to match drive human writers out of the market.

Because of this new priority, I've had to funnel my creativity and focus into my original writing. I'm not someone who can do two things at once. I'm all in on one project at a time. That's probably apparent from my fanfic, where I've only posted one WIP at a time, start to finish before the next. I can't divide my passion on concurrent WIP.

That doesn't mean I don't think about Sideways though -- I do, daily! -- and I intend to finish it. For now, though, unfortunately, Sideways is a draft in some notebooks in a safe. It's not a simple undertaking to edit it, and I need to focus on a personal goal.

Your interest in Sideways is something I treasure, though, and appreciate beyond words. I'm so glad my story isn't forgotten. I love knowing it's still on readers' minds. It makes me feel like, what had so much meaning to me as its writer, truly must carry that meaning through to the reader, too, which is the greatest joy in sharing a story.

Thank you for taking time to check in on Sideways and for letting me know how much it still means to you.

Also, here is a picture of my new puppy as a tiny consolation for not having Sideways ready:

#my writing #ask #anon ask #on sideways

[allthefakepeople]

was the archer written about kit tanthalos? sources say "yes" (i am sources)

hi everyone

the first time i listened to the archer by taylor swift after i watched willow i blacked out and realized how it was literally written for Kit Tanthalos of Tir Asleen and after some coaxing from @spybrarian and @aro-of-artemis i have decided to share my thoughts with you all... warning: this will be long Combat, I'm ready for combat

(kit is always ready for a fight, whether that be physical or with words. she never feels like she can let her guard down)

I say I don't want that, but what if I do?

(she pretends she's not as combative as she is sometimes, but she just comes across as the opposite)

I've got a hundred thrown-out speeches I almost said to you

(she has so many things she wants to say to so many people. jade, airk, sorsha, and mostly madmartigan)

Easy they come, easy they go I jump from the train, I ride off alone

(just how she doesn't have many other connections besides jade and how that must've still been lonely sometimes. also in ep 2 when she wanted to keep moving to keep searching for airk but everyone else wanted to stop and look around for elora, including jade who i'm sure she was trusting to understand how important this is for her)

I never grew up, it's getting so old

("you've just proven to everyone in that room exactly what you are. a petulant child who needs to grow up" but also kit definitely gets tired of herself sometimes)

Help me hold onto you

(she just needs someone to hold on to, she hopes it's jade. she needs help remaining vulnerable)

I've been the archer I've been the prey Who could ever leave me, darling? But who could stay?

(just this whole chorus is so much of kit's internal conflict. like she's been the one causing the pain to others, while also being the one who has been hurt. she has this mentality that she's better than others, but is that just a shield to hide behind when she's actually incredibly vulnerable)

Dark side, I search for your dark side

(there are definitely times where she wonders 1. why jade sticks around for her and 2. hopes that the reason she does, is because she also has the anger inside her that kit does. she definitely sees parts of that fire in jade and it's probably one of the reasons she was drawn to her when she was a kid. she has to find that "dark side" to encourage herself that she's not actually a bad person deep down)

And I cut off my nose just to spite my face Then I hate my reflection for years and years

(she can't look at herself without seeing the reflection of her father and her mother... she's not sure which part she hates more)

I wake in the night, I pace like a ghost The room is on fire, invisible smoke

(i'm just obsessed with the way this describes anxiety, but also this reminds me of kit at the end of ep 6 when she's truly at her low point and she goes off on elora before falling through the crystal)

And all of my heroes die all alone

(i mean... kind of self-explanatory but still... just kit and her hero worship of madmartigan)

'Cause they see right through me They see right through me They see right through Can you see right through me? They see right through They see right through me I see right through me I see right through me

(just how no one sees kit for who she truly is, not even jade, until ep 7. like they all think she's out of her depth, no one is willing to get close enough to understand every little piece of her, jade has gotten the closest but even she falls short sometimes "can you see right through me?" and that tears kit apart sometimes. especially after ep 3 because she was so sure that she and jade had an understanding and it was all blown up by the truth)

All the king's horses, all the king's men Couldn't put me together again

(ep 6 kit core. again, just how she's pulled to pieces by everything up till this point and nothing could really bring her back to who she was before she left tir asleen, maybe even since her father left.)

'Cause all of my enemies started out friends

(having to fight her own twin brother, even if he's potentially "better" now, was incredibly taxing for kit)

Who could stay? You could stay

(by the end, jade and kit have come to a different understanding about each other and "where the princess goes, i go" has a new meaning. and jade will stay if kit only asks... would kit ask though?)

basically my conclusion is somehow taylor swift wrote a song specifically for Kit Tanthalos before she was even a concept so... if you have any other contributions about this or just want to scream (or whisper or talk) about me about willow/kit/tanthamore/anything else my askbox/dms are always open

#willow #willow 2022 #willow series #willow analysis #kit tanthalos #tanthamore #miels rambles #my first willow ramble wow #Spotify