#but have always been seeking the entirety of my life even when i was told to want other things

[matthewtkachuk]

bad at love

Breaking your brother's only unspoken rule—don't date his teammates—has never been an issue in your adult life. Until now.

pairing: jt compher x reader

warnings: angstttt, smut, a minor car accident with mentions of injury (broken bone/concussion), and the usual (alcohol, swearing, etc. etc.)

word count: 4.9k

a/n: hiiiiii @comphy-and-cozy i'm your super secret fic exchange writer! sorry this is a day late and a dollar short. one of these days @wyattjohnston is going to perma-ban me from participating in exchanges. until that date she remains my ever loyal editor. mad thanks to @thomasschabot for reading it first and telling me they loved it even though they're contractually obligated to do so and for physically being there when the fic idea popped into my head <3

It’s not the first time you’ve shown up at your big brother’s house with a face full of tears and a couple bags full of all your worldly possessions. Despite your best efforts and well intentions—if you had to guess—it likely won’t be the last. 

It is the first time you’ve done so with him being a married man, and so it’s your sister-in-law whose comfort you really seek and are expecting to pop up behind the slowly opening door in front of you. 

Unfortunately for you, and for the poor soul you really don’t know that well, it’s not Kenzy who opens the door but the over-the-summer pick-up from Colorado. 

If it had been any of the other, more tenured of your brother's teammates, you might have been waved inside with nothing more than a sympathetic glance and an unspoken ‘again?’. 

Instead, JT’s look of utter confusion has quickly evolved into something more akin to a quiet rage, and you’re reminded that he is a big brother himself. The look is familiar to you, having inspired a similar one on Dylan’s face more times than you can count. 

It’s been a really fucking long day, and you don’t have the emotional bandwidth to have any sort of reckoning with some guy you barely know in your brothers drive way. 

JT’s in the middle of some sort of sentence that begins and also ends with “What—” as you none too gently push past him in order to finally gain entry to the house. 

The mix of sympathy and feigned disinterest that greets you on the faces of your brothers teammates who occupy the large sitting room has your stomach rolling uncomfortably. It seemed like the entirety of the Detroit Red Wings were always around to witness your spectacular failures. What must they think, watching you disappear with the next great love of your life, only to reappear once again with bags packed in a manner of months?

You could hazard a guess at what your brother thinks, the variants of ‘I told you so’ that live and die on his tongue without ever leaving his lips. He wraps you up in an infamous Larkin hug that serves to fix a tiny crack of your broken heart, and so you revel in it like you used to revel in the comfort when the pain you felt was because of falling off the monkey bars when you were a kid. 

But, he has a house full of hockey players to entertain and Kenzy has a glass of wine with your name on it. Dylan returns to the living room and you slide out to the back porch with your sister-in-law, briefly catching the eye of the one who let you in. You don’t see the telltale signs of judgment reflecting back at you, but maybe something else entirely. 

Outside you pour your soul alongside the Malbec. Curled up on the wicker chair under a blanket you tell Kenzy about Owen and the promises he failed to keep. She oohs and ahs at the appropriate times, commiserating without belittling you. 

By the end of the night your heart—and the bottle of wine—feels a little lighter. There’s a little less shame as you make yourself at home in the spare bedroom that might as well permanently be yours. 

Owen visits you in your sleep, breaking your heart again and again until his face morphs into one with a ginger beard and kind eyes. 

-

Those kind eyes become a fixture in your post breakup life. If he’s not hanging around your brother's house, he’s bumping into you at the local coffee shop you frequent when you’re in Detroit. If he’s at neither, he’s obviously at the games you attend in support of Dylan alongside Kenzy. 

At Dylan’s, you barely speak to his teammates and friends beyond simple pleasantries. At your coffee shop, it starts at small talk but grows to be considerable conversations that dip just below surface level. 

It’s at Little Caesars Arena where he really endears himself to you though. Warm ups are arguably your favorite part of the games you attend. You like to look out at the signs, from the heartwarming to the obscene—picking out your favorites and giggling about the latter with your sister in law. 

Dylan’s always been really good about tossing kids pucks, and his big bleeding heart only grew larger when he got the red C strapped to his chest. Some of the other guys, even some of the so-called vets are less good about it. 

JT’s just like Dylan, maybe even a little kinder hearted. He takes the time to read the signs that are meant for him, never turns down a trade for a puck and even gives a stick to a kid whose sign says he came all the way from Denver to watch him, his favorite player, play in Detroit. 

It warms your heart. 

So much so you don’t even notice you’re staring until Dylan’s slamming himself into the boards in front of you to startle his wife. She rolls her eyes and calls him a name not worth repeating while you try to pretend like you weren’t just fixated on his teammate. 

The thing is Dylan has never outright said his teammates are off limits. Not since you were a teenager making eyes at his USNTDP teammates anyway. 

The memory keeps you from looking JT’s way the rest of the warmups, but once the puck drops your eyes can’t help but wander. 

-

Wandering appears to be your specialty, considering you’ve gotten yourself lost in the underbelly of the arena. 

Your first mistake was leaving Ken’s side—she was your ferryman, guiding you down the River Styx, and without her, you were lost in Hell. 

Were you overdramatic? Maybe. Were you lost with no hope of getting out? Still overdramatic, but definitely a possibility. 

The walls begin to look the same, and you’re half worried you’ve accidentally fallen into a back room or something stupid when you stumble upon the one who caught your eye earlier. 

‘Stumble upon’ is a gracious way of saying you absolutely smack into him and fall on your ass. 

He hauls you up effortlessly with one hand and your skin burns beneath his grasp. 

“What are you doing?” you both say in near unison before he laughs. 

“I was getting my shoulder checked out, what are you doing all the way over here? Are you lost?”

Regardless of what he was doing, JT obviously has more of a reason to be found wandering the halls of the arena. And he’s right, you’re most definitely lost but you play it off like he’s crazy. 

“Me? Lost? No, I know exactly where we are,” you bluff. 

JT’s eyebrows raise and he nods slowly. “Which is…?”

Well, he’s called your bluff but he also gave you a key context clue. “Near the athletic trainer, obviously.” 

He laughs again and it has your cheeks feeling hot. 

“Okay fine, maybe I’m a little bit lost and maybe I was contemplating how I’d be trapped down here forever before you knocked me over.”

“I’m sorry, but you ran into me.” You roll your eyes and begin to argue, but he doesn’t let that happen. “Doesn’t matter, I can help you find your way out.”

You swoon dramatically, only half joking as you reply “My hero.”

Now that you’re no longer focused on navigating your way out of Pan’s Labyrinth, you’re free to focus on your close proximity to JT. Based on the way his eyes dart between meeting your own and staring at your lips, you assume he’s just as aware.

Is this not what you’ve been wanting since you knocked on Dylan’s door? But that’s part of the problem, and you’re sure JT is thinking the same. Not only is your brother his teammate—and you’ve always been off limits to your brother's teammates to your chagrin growing up—but he’s JT’s captain, too. There’s a million ways this thing could go wrong and blow up in both of your faces. 

You could get caught, and be forced to sit with Dyl’s disappointment. You could hurt the one person in your life who consistently showed up for you and loved you and cared for you. 

Not to mention you could risk it all for nothing—could crash and burn spectacularly as you were wont to do. Could fuck it all up with not only your brother, but JT too and be left with nothing. It wouldn’t be the first time you’d gone behind your brother’s back, but you had a sneaking suspicion things would be worse than they were when you were 15 to his 16. 

Ultimately you decide fuck it, because what’s life without a little risk?

Tentatively, you slide your hand over the rough beard covering his jaw. When he doesn’t flinch or move away from you, you lean in closer. 

He’s not pulling away, but he’s also not moving closer, letting you make the first move. 

It’s probably a terrible fucking idea, but you’ve never been accused of being someone who makes good decisions when it comes to romantic partners. 

The first press of your lips to his is cautious, barely a brushing of your mouths, just to get a taste. Quickly you become a woman obsessed. Unable to get enough, the kisses turn frenetic, bordering on sloppy. 

He reciprocates in kind, his mouth hot and heavy on yours while his hands grasp and pull and hold. His very essence consumes you, taking over all of your five senses and pulling noises from you that you didn’t know existed. 

If your arm burned from his grasp earlier, your entire body has caught fire. 

You’re unaware or probably more accurately uncaring of your public nature, despite your earlier hesitance. Now you just want more and more and more of JT, as much as he is willing to give and maybe even a little more. 

He seems to be on the same page, entire body wrapping around you and pulling you deeper and deeper. 

Unconsciously your hands begin to pull at the waistband of his pants and it’s then that the two of you finally separate. 

You’re worried you’re going to find regret in his eyes and excuses on his tongue, but he’s just looking at you intently. 

“Not like this,” he says. “Not here.”

“I don’t want to wait,” you protest, but he shushes you with his mouth. 

“It’ll be worth the wait.” 

And worth the wait it is. 

-

It's sexy at first. Clandestine meetings in dark hallways, sneaking in and out of JT’s apartment that’s on the same floor as Jake Walman’s, covert texts and quiet phone calls where you get off on the sound of each other's voices. 

It doesn’t take long for you to want more, though. To fantasize about not just what his calloused hands can do to your body, but what it would be like to hold one in your own while walking down the street. To show up at a home game and have everyone know you were there to support not only your brother, but JT too. 

It’s a fantasy that is only stoked by the comfort you feel walking around JT’s apartment in just his t-shirt with his number on the shoulder. By nights spent together at his dinner table, on his couch, in his bed. By sweet texts and stupid memes and random photos of things that made him think of you. 

You don’t dare speak your desires out loud though. For fear of JT not wanting the same thing or for fear that he would, you’re not quite sure. 

It’s a tough situation to be in. One where you’re worried you're heading to a fork in the road that has JT on one side and your brother on the other. 

You have no delusions about the two paths eventually forging back together again, know that you’ve come dangerously close to that intersection marked with a big fat caution sign. 

Probably you should speak to JT, get on the same page about where you’ve been and where you’re going. Following that, assuming he secretly yearns for the same thing you do, you should probably then come clean to Dylan. 

Probably you should do a lot of things, but unfortunately what is done in the dark always comes to the light and sometimes it happens quicker than you can make your mind up. 

-

A road win presumably has JT in a good mood. He’s texted you letting you know he’ll be home before midnight, requesting your presence in his bed. 

It’s an easy yes, considering you’re already in the aforementioned bed. It’s nice to get out of Dylan’s house, of the suffocating feeling that you’re intruding in someone else’s home, on someone else’s life. 

There’s really nothing particularly sexy about the way he finds you, but his eyes darken upon finding you curled up in his bed just the same. You’re not attempting to recreate a sexy pose from a boudoir photo shoot, and one of JT’s shirts and a pair of boy shorts aren’t exactly fancy lingerie. 

That doesn’t stop him from dropping his bag dramatically and stripping from his dress shirt and pants. 

“Awfully presumptuous,” you say as if the very fact that you’re in his bed in not much more clothing than he is. 

He shrugs, “Not presuming anything. I’m fine if you just want to sleep, but I’m sure as shit not going to sleep in those dress pants. Bad enough I had to sit through a plane ride like that.”

His tone is teasing, but the implication that he would be just as fine falling asleep beside you as anything else pretty well takes all the fight out of you. 

“C’mere,” you say instead of a catchy comeback, lifting the covers and inviting him into his own bed. 

He wastes no time sliding in beside you and curling up around your body. “Hi.”

You snort and hide your face in his neck. “Corny.”

“I’ll show you corny,” he says, but you shush him by pulling his face closer to yours until your lips brush. 

“Thought I was presumptuous,” he says upon breaking the kiss. 

You roll your eyes—“Shut up.”—and kiss him again. 

He doesn’t manage to keep his mouth shut, but at least this time it’s to slip his tongue into your mouth. 

The temperature of the room rapidly increases—between the weight of his body covering your own and your body’s reaction to his fervid kiss, you feel the need to lose at least one item of clothing. 

“I need—“

Luckily he quickly understands what you’re trying to accomplish by pulling at the hem of your shirt, lifting off of you long enough to assist in removing it from your body. 

He makes a noise of appreciation at the bare skin revealed to him before diving back into your lips, this time with one hand cupping your right breast. 

Appreciative noises of your own build in your throat when that hand slides down your body to dip into your underwear. It’s teasing touches at first, until you reciprocate by cupping him through his boxer-briefs. 

Finally you both shed that last remaining layer, uncaring of where they end up in the bedroom. There’s a brief pause while he rolls on a condom and then he’s entering your body like it was made for him and him alone. 

There’s no rush about his pace, just gentle thrusts and soft moans and sweet praises. 

Sex with JT is so good, better than with anyone else you’ve ever been with. He’s the very opposite of a lazy, selfish lover. It’s like your needs and your pleasure come first, and you certainly do too. 

The positioning of your bodies is so intimate, bodies close, mouths slotted over each other with intermingling breaths. 

You worry you’re getting too caught up in that intimacy, possibly running in a direction not quite warranted and so you seek to depersonalize it a touch. 

“Let me,” you say softly while gently pressing a hand against his shoulder, indicating you want him to lay on his back. He moves willingly, even helping you climb atop him. 

It feels just as good with you on top, and the bit of distance between your upper halves means you can breathe a bit better. 

It’s easy to get lost in the feeling, to tilt your head back and focus on your movements and the feel of his bruising grip on your hips. 

Feeling the pressure build in your stomach, you slide a hand down your abdomen to where your bodies meet while the other grasps your breast just for something to hold on to. The added friction to your clit is pulling you closer and closer as you move on top of him. 

He’s staring up at you with lust filled eyes, mouth open in a mix of awe and pleasure. A look of almost disbelief on his face. His hands are still on your hips, now helping the movement of your body on his when your body lights up like the fourth of July with your orgasm. 

It’s hard to keep moving while in the throes of pleasure, but it’s like JT can read your mind, gripping your hips and thrusting up into you until he finishes too. 

Your whole body tingles as you collapse on top of him, relishing in the feel of his arms wrapping around your body. Leisurely you kiss for a minute, until your heart rate returns to normal and you feel like you’re not likely to fall over when going to the bathroom to clean up. 

When you return, you’ve slipped on one of his shirts once again. There's a soft look on his face as you crawl into bed beside him. It only cracks when you quietly whisper, “should we order pizza?”

“I think you’re the girl of my dreams,” he laughs. 

The room is quiet, filled with only the sounds of your breathing and occasional kissing as you wait for the delivery. 

Finally the doorbell rings. “I got it,” you tell JT and pull on a pair of discarded sweatpants before pulling the drawstring so they don’t fall. 

You don’t bother to check the peephole, certain it’s your food which turns out to be a giant mistake. 

Not only is it not your pizza, it’s also the last person you want to catch you with sex hair in oversized clothing that obviously belongs to the guy you’ve just had sex with. 

Dylan’s mouth has dropped so far down it would be comical if it wasn’t also horrifying. 

“Dylan I–” you start to explain yourself but pause midway through. How could you even begin to explain?

“I can’t believe this.” He shakes his head, hands curling at his side. “Actually no, I can’t believe this from JT, I can definitely believe this from you.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you snap. 

Your brother laughs sardonically, “Well you’re not exactly known for making the right decisions when it comes to relationships.”

JT exits his room, no doubt lured by the loud voices and the lack of food. “Hey man, come on, let's talk about this like adults.”

“Like adults?” Dylan is incensed in a way you’ve never seen before. “Now you want to talk about things like adults? The time to talk was before you started sleeping with my sister behind my back.”

“I’m sorry you found out like this–” JT continues to try to defend himself, defend you while you stand there speechless. 

Dylan interrupts, “Sorry I found out or sorry you got caught?”

JT goes to respond but Dylan cuts him off again. “I trusted you dude. I told you she was off limits, and not only did you ignore me, you went behind my back.” He then turns to you. “And you? My teammate? Seriously? You couldn’t have chosen literally any other douchebag to treat you wrong?”

That snaps you out of your stupor. “JT doesn’t treat me bad!”

A different kind of look crosses your older brother's face then. “Well when he does, don’t come running back to my house and crying to me.” 

Dylan slams the door and you sit in the quiet of the room for a minute with your ears ringing. 

The reality of the situation hits you. 

“I can’t stay there, God not only am I a fuck up but I’m homeless too.”

“You can always stay here,” JT offers and it really bothers you that you can’t tell if he wants you to, or if he’s just offering because of his hand in the most recent blow up of your life. 

“I’m pretty sure his baby sister shacking up with his teammate he doesn’t want her with isn’t exactly going to win me any favors with Dyl,” you reply. 

“Well I’m pretty sure he’d rather you be here than living on the street.”

Ordinarily you think that would probably be true but the look on his face when you opened JT’s door is seared into your mind. “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

-

In the end you do move your things into JT’s apartment. Kenzy is the accomplice to your crime, helping you pack your things while the team has practice, wrapping you in her arms and telling you that he just needs some time. 

“He loves you,” she says. 

You’re not so sure. 

That’s probably overdramatic. You’re sure he loves you, and you sure hope he forgives you. You’re just worried that this time you’ve both done and said things you can’t take back and you’re not sure how things will move forward from here. 

It’s not all bad though. 

Living with JT is surprisingly easy, even right one might say. You fit directly into each other's lives like perfect puzzle pieces. His strict routines of practices and morning skates and games—both home and away—allow you the space to complete your own work on your own time. Cooking pregame meals together and curling up beside him when he takes his pregame naps quickly become some of your favorite activities. 

You dance around the feelings talk, never quite broaching the subject. But it can’t feel this right if it’s all one sided, all in your head, right?

He’s even kind enough to let you drive his SUV even though the price tag makes you nervous every time you’re behind the wheel. You’re not a bad driver, as evidenced by the fact JT lets you drive the Audi, but you are possibly on this side of over cautious as a result of a bad car accident in high school. 

Three home games after your fight with Dylan and approximately zero words or text messages exchanged between the two of you, you find yourself in the passenger seat. 

“I could have taken the bus,” you protest weakly, almost knowing exactly what JT’s response will be. 

“Over my dead body,” he laughs, eyes flickering over to you before focusing on the traffic in front of him. “Just pick me up after practice or text me if you’re still out and I’ll find a ride.” 

“I’m not gonna leave you stranded at the arena, of course I’ll be there after you’re done.” 

It’s oddly domestic, kissing JT across the console and then sliding into the driver’s seat that he vacates. You wait as he grabs his gear and walks away, you do really love watching him walk away. 

The moment is cut short by catching a glimpse of your brother's vehicle. He’s not in it, obviously already inside the arena, but the sight of it makes your stomach clench all the same. 

Thoughts of Dylan and his disappointment and worry that he’ll never forgive you flood your mind the entire drive. So much so that when the next light turns green, you let off the gas without realizing that there is a larger SUV running the red. 

It all happens so fast. The screeching of tires, the crunching of metal, the pop of airbags going off and then a blinding pain in your wrist. 

In the end, you’re pushed into the wrong lane of traffic, the other vehicle damn near in the passenger seat you occupied only fifteen minutes ago. There’s a distinct ringing in your ears and you offhandedly wonder if this is what it feels like to get boarded. 

“Are you okay? I’m calling 911.” The words sound like they’re underwater, and it takes you several seconds to realize they’re being spoken to you. Turning your head to the side, you try to get the words out to say you’re fine, but you’re blocked by the airbag that has gone off near your head. 

Emergency services come quickly, a perk of living in Detroit you suppose. Embarrassingly, it takes the jaws of life to peel off the driver's side door to get you out. A cop takes your statement and then you end up in the back of an ambulance. Despite your assurances that you’re fine, one raised eyebrow from the female paramedic and the idea that you’ve probably broken your wrist has you agreeing to the ER visit. 

It’s then that someone asks you if there’s anyone you want to call. Heartbreakingly, your first thought is Dylan and your second thought is you’re not sure he’ll pick up. 

Your third thought is JT and his SUV that you’ve probably totaled. 

One of the paramedics helps you dial the equipment manager’s number, the one you were instructed to only ever use in case of emergencies. If ever there was a reason…

When he picks up the phone, you have to explain that you’ve gotten into a tiny fender bender and if you could please speak with JT and yes I mean JT not Dylan. 

“Are you okay?” JT all but demands when he picks up the phone. 

“I’m totally fine,” you fib, and then concede based on that same female paramedic once again raising an eyebrow. “Okay so I might have broken my wrist but–”

“Which hospital are you going to?” he interrupts. 

You tell him, but try to say, “It’s okay you don’t have to–”

He interrupts again, “I’ll be right there.”

He hangs up quicker than you can ask how he’s going to get there without the car that you’ve wrecked. 

True to his word, he’s sitting on a chair in your hospital room when you return from getting an x-ray. He stands abruptly upon your entrance and takes the three strides to stand in front of you before hesitating, like you’re made of glass. 

You take matters into your own hands and slide your good arm around his back, careful to not jostle your injured wrist. There's a slight tremor to his body that you feel run through yours. 

“I’m okay,” you say comfortingly, rubbing your good hand along his back before pausing. “Your car though….”

The tears are already starting to pool in your waterline as he pulls back. 

His hands slide to cup your jaw as he speaks seriously, “I don’t give a damn about the car. It can be replaced, you can’t.” A tear slips out before you can stop it and he brushes it away with his thumb before kissing you softly. “I care about you. So much. And that phone call scared the shit out of me.”

Despite the less than stellar background and circumstances, his words have your heart leaping in your chest. “I really care about you too,” you whisper and kiss him again. 

“Where is she?” you hear coming down the hall and it occurs to you that your brother is still your emergency contact. 

“Did you tell him?” you ask JT who promptly shakes his head. 

You don’t even have time to step back from JT’s embrace before Dylan comes crashing into the room. JT wisely pulls away and gives Dylan the space to place his hands on your shoulders and scan for any signs of injury. 

“I’m okay,” you reassure him but the words feel hollow considering they’re the first you’ve said to him in more than a week. “Broken wrist they’re gonna cast and probably a concussion. Can’t say the same for the car.”

Eerily similar to JT, Dylan replies, “Cars can be replaced–”

“But I can’t,” you say in unison with him. “I know, JT said the same thing.” 

It’s like Dylan remembers his teammate then, eyes sliding over to where JT stands and then back down to your slowly purpling wrist. 

The room is silent except for the sounds of medical equipment and the faint sounds occurring outside the door. 

“I’m sorry,” you say in unison with your brother again. 

“No, I'm sorry,” he says first. “I’m your big brother and I’ve seen you get your heart broken too many times. I’m always going to worry about you but I was out of line.”

“I’m sorry we went behind your backs and I’m sorry you found out that way. We should have just talked to you, I should have just talked to you.” 

“Truce?” he asks, like you’re 10 and 11 again, fighting over something silly and trivial. 

“Truce,” you confirm, hissing when you knock your broken wrist as you pull him in for a hug. 

Later, when you’ve gotten over the guilt of totaling JT’s barely used Audi and the cast on your wrist is long gone,  it’ll be a fun story to tell at parties. About how it took an idiot running a red light for you to define your relationship with JT and to reconcile with your brother. 

#nhl fic #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #nhl fanfiction #nhl fanfic #nhl x reader #jt compher fic #shelb writes

[desmorotu]

lasko’s playlist ⭐️ (a glimpse)

˚ ༘✶ ⋆｡˚ ⁀➷ for @morgansplace !!!

☆ lovesong - adele (lasko, despite already having a partner and is able to express how he feels freely to them, is still a hopeless romantic. he often feels a pit in his stomach when thinking about love, and this song conveys precisely how he can feel. he enjoys humming the melody and tapping his foot to the beat + has cried to this song just because 💀)

☆ i’m not okay - JVKE (he loves the piano!! he is a sucker for a good, heart aching melody that can bring goosebumps to his skin. he doesn’t particularly relate to the song per se, but he does agree with the message that it is okay to not be okay.)

☆ life eternal - ghost (he thinks about his partner when this song plays :p. he really enjoys the choral elements to it! damien’s been introducing him to different kinds of music and lasko is experimenting with ghost currently. he bobs his head to the beat and enjoys dramatically staring out the window when it’s nighttime. he’s witnessed damien screaming these lyrics at the top of his lungs.)

☆ closer - nine inch nails (gavin showed him this song LMAO. despite being shy about the lyrics when listening around other people, when he is alone he is definitely jammin’. he actually enjoys the suggestive lyrics a lot, but he will never admit it to the others. he lip syncs and looks in the mirror while he does it to make sure he looks “attractive enough.” not even his partner knows he does this yet.)

☆ singularity - bts (after having looked up the english translation, he feels a deeper ache when listening to it. he relates deeply to these lyrics, acknowledging that he oftentimes puts others way before himself and, just as in the song, “buries his voice�� in fear of rejection. he loves taehyung’s deep vocals and prefers listening while driving because he seeks the vibration of the bass.)

☆ like crazy - jimin (lasko may or may not have gone down a bts rabbit hole at some point—but this song hits him to his core. it’s in a way that he can’t explain, but goosebumps take over his skin and he has to stop whatever he’s doing at the moment to listen and appreciate in its entirety. he was very happy when his partner told him that it was on their playlist after listening to it with them :3)

☆ sure know something - kiss (lasko’s an avid kiss enjoyer—i won’t be hearing any protests. he likes listening to this one with his partner and breaking out of his shell for a moment to dance along with them :). he likes the bass and paul stanley’s voice could “bring a grown man—yes, that grown man is me—to his knees.”)

☆ you know me too well - nothing but thieves (he heard this from another person’s car radio while stopped in traffic and he shazamed that shit. he loves the sensual vibe and, if he ever decides to make a sex playlist, will probably be putting this song on there.)

☆ sway - michael bublé (he fuckin LOVES the entirety of this song. he dances with his partner to it and often enjoys watching them dance to it by themselves. his mouth is always agape, eyes wide and looking desperately in awe. he loves spinning them around and seeing the mischievous glint in their eye. he regrets not ever picking up an instrument, but he would pick up a trombone or violin in a heartbeat if given the chance.)

☆ dancing queen - ABBA (this motherfucker IS the dancing queen even though he is no longer seventeen. he always smiles his biggest when he recognizes the familiar melody and lets himself dance to it even if there are people around. even in the most subtle of ways like walking to the beat or swaying his body, he cannot stay still with this song on. his partner likes to play it when they’re walking through the doorway as an “intro song.”)

refer to lasko’s playlist cover at the bottom!!

˚ ༘✶ ⋆｡˚ ⁀➷

okay omg i hope you like it 💔 more songs from my playlist that give lasko vibes this time. these are just my opinions + headcanons ! i tried really hard with this but sometimes i’m really bad at words so i’m sorry if the descriptions are repetitive :(. again, if you want to see more, let me know!! i personally love content like this and i’ve was actually really inspired by morgan’s OC icon post :3 it was SO COOL

k bye 💟

#redacted audio #redacted asmr #redactedverse #redacted headcanons #redacted asher #redacted gavin #redacted lasko #lasko moore #redacted freelancer #redacted damien #redacted huxley #how did i forget tags #wtf is wrong with me #redacted damn crew

[joys-of-everyday]

I just watched ContraPoint’s Twilight and so clearly, I need to write about BL. She even told me too! (2:42:40)

Firstly, if you know anyone who goes “why is BL so xxx (derogatory)”, this is an excellent video to point them to. Yes, it’s 3 hours long. That is how thoroughly it defends BL Twilight.

Secondly, I don’t particularly want to discuss whether I agree or not with the finer details of every statement Natalie makes. In broad strokes, it is an excellent video.

I hope from point 1, 2 it’s clear that I don’t want to reiterate too much that the video covers, so if you have time to do anything, I recommend going to watch it. That being said, I think there are interesting points to go deeper with the slightly different perspective of BL, so I’ll jot down some loose thoughts.

DHSM

So apparently… Twilight is yaoi coded? I’ve never watched or read Twilight in my life so maybe I’ve been sold the wrong impression.

Yaoi, and then BL, has always been constructed on narratives of power and its subversions. Pio makes an excellent post here linking to a neat interview which covers, from a different perspective to Natalie (who focuses on straight romance), some of the conversations around power and fantasy.

Natalie defines a framework in which this narrative exists: Default Heterosexual Sado-Masochism, or DHSM (1:26:47). This is a series of dichotomies that are often associated to each other: masculine, active, subject, lover, dominant, top… vs feminine, passive, object, beloved, submissive, bottom… Yes. It’s seme vs uke, gong vs shou. The criticism and defense of such narratives have been well-trodden, and Natalie gives a good account. I’ll leave that for now.

What I find interesting, and what Natalie mentions, is the natural scope of BL to subvert DHSM itself. Notable is the myriad of tropes that seek to subvert the common dichotomy – the feminine seme, the muscular uke, the younger seme, and so on, so forth. Or works where both parties play the roles of gong and shou – WWX’s active pursual of LWJ’s affections… hell, almost the whole of MDZS is LWJ being reactive to what WWX does, flipping the dynamic in its entirety.

But I think that even in its most standard, vanilla DHSM version of BL is already subversive of these expectations. The almost infamous “but I’m a man!” uttered so often by the uke when faced with the affections of a man (wow, gayness, how terribly exciting) can be interpreted as mild homophobia, yes, but it occurs to me now that it is a subtle marker of agency. The uke is surprised to be the object of desire. And thus we learn that object/beloved is disjoint from womanhood, even if the work doesn’t go as far as to untangle it from femininity.

Is that surprise in itself referencing the default view that men are not objects of desire (women are), and therefore problematic? Who knows. Then again, it do be the case that you can’t comment on a thing without presenting the thing. (*cough* Scum Villain *cough*)

Ah Power

“Is it really fine though?” says Natalie, halfway thought the video. (1:23:07)

I’ve defended BL to the moon and back. I still would. But always there is a little person sat in the back of my mind reminding me of all the moments I cringed. The overwhelming DHSM, the casual misogyny, the slightly bizarre takes queerness… Don’t get me wrong, there exist BL works flying in egalitarian gay space communism, and BL isn’t like… uniquely bad among media despite the frequent bashing it gets (have you watched the average shonen?). But I like BL. That’s why I know intimately all the issues it has.

My gay male friends tell me that BL often disappoints them because it’s not reflective of their experiences. Fair enough. I think a lot of BL (by the nature of what it is) is on the whole reflective of female (and Asian) experiences/perspectives. While I have no intention of telling anyone what they can and can’t write, it… idk, feels strange, that so much of society’s perspective on gay men (overwhelmingly so in Asia, and increasingly so in the West) is shaped by… not gay men.

Food for thought.

Another question that sometimes strikes my darkest hours is… why yaoi and not yuri? Why BL and not GL? Well it turns out that a lot of women (the main target audience, if you weren’t aware by now) are into men (Surprise!), so I guess that’s not particularly surprising. Then again, it seems reasonable to think there’s an element of wanting a blank slate. Woman is Other, said idk… Beauvoir. For a woman to woman, there must be a reason she womans. A female character cannot exist without navigating – explicitly or implicitly – social structures that work against her. Even a world that removes those barriers with the good old worldbuilding becomes commentary on today’s society. And ngl, the last thing I want to be thinking about when reading my escapist fantasy is the unfortunate circumstances we live in (*big sigh*).

Is that internalised sexism? Should I think deeply about my biases and my apparent inability to think of women as just people? Maybe. Sorry, my political correctness is not high on my mind when reading smut.  

The seen seen, the desire desired

Who are you attracted to in BL? Some say you (the obviously female reader)(I’m feeling exceptionally sarcastic today, but I realise this doesn’t translate well to text) are meant to relate to the uke and feel attraction towards the seme. From experience… this doesn’t track. Often because erm… the audience of BL isn't all straight women it turns out.

But an interesting point that Natalie raises is the capacity for a reader to relate with characters in what are perhaps unexpected ways (cf Part 6: Identity). BL often jumps between the perspective of seme and uke. If straight fantasy gives women the opportunity to relate with both the desire and desired, then BL gives the capability of being everything at once – the powerful beloved, the pursued subject, the desire desired - through both the uke and seme. After all, how common is the sentiment “I don’t know if I want to fuck him or be him”? (I’m gonna digress and say I don’t think people mega-braining multiple POVs as they read BL, but I will highlight the way BL tends to portray both parties as loving and beloved.)

There’s something inherently voyeuristic or polyamorous about BL. Natalie states that blank slate characters are blank slate as to not generate envy – blurring the identity of the uke enough that they become indistinguishable from the reader. This is not the template of BL. The uke is often just as developed, if not more developed in character than the seme, with the reader’s capacity to relate to multiple POVs meaning they can see the uke from the outside, as separate, as object, as Other. Either the reader disappears in the narrative, everywhere and nowhere at once, or is tucked between them (“I want to fuck/be fucked by both.”).

Representation

In general, I prefer to be excited about what we do have rather than nitpicking the individual. Works that subvert tropes, tropes that subvert tropes, authors trying to better understand the queer community, conversations around what media representation we want to see etc. etc. get me excited. BL broadening its scope from escapist smut fantasy (tbc, nothing wrong with that) to more “mainstream” slice of life/fantasy type works is something I welcome. Some bits of BL fandom have been some of the nicest I’ve seen. It’s a community that I think is special, and whether I think media should be child friendly aside, I think it has the capability to be a really positive influence.

It strikes me that while BL isn’t reflective of the most standard gay male experience… it is, in some way, a gay male experience.

And I say this in a way that is literal for me and my trans brethren, but also maybe this is true more broadly, in an abstract sense. Natalie suggests that women relate to big, hulking alpha men in romance with a masculine element of themselves. When/if you relate to characters in BL, do you relate to them with a masculine element?

Well, not always and not everyone, and the gender of the characters themselves are often more complicated. ig what I’m trying to say, is that BL might not seem like an accurate reflection of the world to some, but it is a reflection of something, and maybe we should value that.

And as a final remark, I don't think anyone needs to intellectualise their interests as hard as I sometimes do. Keep enjoy what you're enjoying. You're doing great :)

#yaoi bl #contrapoints #contrapoints twilight

[braskide]

i had some thoughts about this kinda idea before but it came to me again last night — i often think about how hard life gets for yuna after she becomes high summoner. living in spira as a popular religious figure just intensifies the process of trying to live your days with trauma you cannot ever fully process + forming bonds that are meaningful / do not feel false because even in x-2 new yevon ( or the youth league ) tried to take advantage of that, for example ( seeking her as approval to gain spira's general appreciation, trying an arranged marriage between the high summoner + the praetor and whatnot ). everyone would want the approval of the high summoner, and thus it becomes basically impossible for yuna to do things that go under the radar. i think people in spira need a long time to learn what it is like to live life without sin, and so falling into the old habits is very effective, especially when they've been perpetuated for decades. i have this idea that they would easily try to see meaning behind anything yuna were to do, because of her influential status as a) braska's daughter, b) a high summoner, c) the only living high summoner, and the list could go on with other features such as two times saviour, seymour's widow possibly having some influence on it as well for the most old yevonites / guados? all of that has meaning in front of the eyes of the believers — i mean, all of spira, really.

my thought is that yuna is not naive the way she was, and now knows the way of her world, and especially knows that everyone is selfish in their own pursuits to some degree. so i've mentioned before how over time she tends to close in itself and as a result not speak much anymore / freely as she once did, part of the reason i would say is because she knows she needs to weight her words now; she would freely express herself in her entirety before, when she knew her life had a deadline and that her words would be used perhaps to do good once she was gone, but now that she's the first of a long series of sacrificial high summoners she does not know who to look back to for an example to follow, and she is setting in stone the end of all summoners who were seen as so high, and she the highest of them all.

i think another expression of that is also her inability to form meaningful new bonds. she's hyper aware of her surroundings and she does not trust anything she's being told / people she meets anymore. she's very attached to the past, but that too brings about too much unresolved trauma that ends up making her more stoic as time passes. she decides to take after her father and what people told her he was like — ultimately, at heart she will always be the same yuna, but time has consumed all her energy, and distanced herself from the one that would blindly see the good in the world. there is evil in the shadows and she knows she must put an end to all of it, which is also the reason why her body and mind seem to give in as years go by: her biggest fault is taking everything as her own responsibility. high summoners were always seen as saviors, as problem solvers, the shields of spira even literally, and now her internalized issue is that she thinks everything that may cause distress is hers to fix and solve. it's the main streamlined idea as to why i think she suffers the farpane's instability, even though realistically she cannot do anything about it. she knows that only the guado have the tools to maintain it, and yet she feels this need to take it upon herself to "fix" it.

she has shown savior complex a lot of times before, even in canon ( i think x-2 is the prime example. it's presented as a plotline with yuna being "selfish" and trying to live her life in spite of her past, but if you have played through it you know that in the end it's just her going place to place to fix things, taking things upon herself she does not need to — i mean, vegnagun itself was not something that she should have tasked herself with, even knowing that the crimson squad / new yevon / the youth league was on it way before her she still pursues it, and many more examples in the entirety of the plot honestly ) and i have reason to believe it is so internalized that it seems almost impossible to put a bandaid to it, which is why she takes onto the life long task of studying all of via infinito ( + all the hidden things beneath bevelle and possibly beneath zanarkand ruins tbh, there's no way the same isn't there ) when, truly, her role as spira's savior should have ended long ago.

#meta tag. #honestly i was just thinking that she has a lot of similiarities with ka.tniss ... . #because of the way they view their lives — u know how kat had to “fake” her life for the capitol; #i always think the same of yuna. she had to fake or act out some things for sure; #for the sake of spira / of bevelle most probably; #they truly all look up to her in a way that makes it so unhealthy. #it's like spira does not have any guidance anymore and she's the last standing hero — #spira has this habit of always having to look to someone to know what to do and think esp. yevonites; #sooo oooo yeah i . don't ask me anything about the political and social settings of spira post x i will COMBUST ! #me writing long ass meta posts for no reason instead of studying? more likely than u think ! #btw trema i hope u d*e ( AGAIN ) !

[dumping-ideas]

Before I begin, I want to say that people are allowed to have their own interpretations and how they see a story. First of all, it's fiction, not hard facts. So no matter how hard they try to be unbiased as posible, the way people interpret a story will be influenced by their life experiences, social norms, personal preferences, and other media they consume. So are the analysis I've posted all this time, they're just one way to interpret WxS stories and Tsukasa. Others may have different perspectives than me and there's nothing wrong with that. The shitstorm in pjsekai twt made me realize yet again that sometimes people have difficulty accepting those with different views than them...

This is, ultimately, my personal opinion and feeling about Saki's event, and while I know the shitstorm of No Seek No Find brings in twt, I just really need to write down my emotions (but I hope no one pick a fight with me here lol).

Okay, I think I've said it before, but I like angst when it's done in a bittersweet and hopeful way (for instance Dazzling Stage, Remembrance, Otori family's conflict in WMS, Haruki's death and Nanase twins' resolution in ainana, Bossun's past arc in SKET DANCE, almost the entirety of Natsume Yujincho, etc.). But the tone of Saki's 3rd focus event story is so muddy that even the bits of hope in it still feels kinda distant for me.

Objectively speaking, the story is good, really good even. Saki was portrayed as the always positive girl like Emu, but as we all know the two of them aren't just sunshine and rainbows. No Seek No Find finally shows the ugly ugly emotions that Saki harbored when she was hospitalized--the pain, loneliness, jealousy, bitterness, frustration, helplessness, despair, anger, and fear of being left behind. Being sick and hospitalized like her sucks, and her negative emotions are portrayed very well in the story. We've been told several times in event and card stories that Saki always hid her sadness with a smile to not worry others, but we also know her family and Ichika could see through her fake smiles but never said anything about it. So, this story is important. It needs to happen anyway, for Saki to bea able to pour out those emotions into songs.

Also, the bit where Ichika sent her a picture of the sky and then did the same thing more than a year later was really sweet. Leo/Need being supportive group of friends is always nice to see, and ngl I'm kinda glad that Saki spoke up a little about how lonely she was when she was hospitalized and iirc only Ichika visited her during that time. While Honami and Shiho had their own problems at the time, I think they needed to hear how it felt in Saki's postion at that time. Unfortunately, it damaged Saki more than it did them lol. I haven't read the card stories yet, but apparently Saki's suggestions for lyrics after the event were about how much pain and life generally sucks(?). While it's good that Saki could release her pent up frustration with her music, I really wish she let herself be honest with her friends. It may be painful for everyone, but the main story proved that they could handle it.

However, personally speaking, in the end it just left a bitter aftertaste for me. The story spent a long time in Saki's negative headspace, and even when she was with Leo/Need the murkiness was very much present. The muddy feeling was super strong. Like, Saki was so gung-ho about diving into the most painful parts of her life, how was I supposed to react?? Support her, I guess? But unlike the characters, I saw how much she cried about the unfairness of everything. I didn't want Saki to delve deep into those emotions by herself. Leo/Need supported her from afar, sure, but what if Saki spiraled into those well of negative emotions by herself?? It didn't happen thankfully, but the fact that it was possible was worrying. No, I think the simple reason is that Saki is one of those characters that I don't want to see sad.

"IT'S UNREASONABLE, SHE HAS A PAINFUL PAST OF COURSE SHE CAN GET SAD!!" said many people, most likely

I KNOW BUT THAT'S WHY I DON'T WANT HER TO RELIVE THOSE EMOTIONS ANYMORE!! DAMMIT, I CAN DISLIKE THE TONE OF THE EVENT STORY HOWEVER GOOD IT IS!! PERSONAL PREFERENCE AND ALL THAT!!

Maybe the darker tone compared to other Leo/Need event stories is intentional--to drive home how dark Saki's negative emotions due to her illness can be.

And you know what, I respect that decision, it's a good decision objectively. But being able to see the positive aspects doesn't mean I personally like it. I like the gentle, warm, and sometimes bittersweet tone of most of Leo/Need event stories. But this event story went too far to the bitter part for what I like about Leo/Need stories so I can't say I can enjoy the story that much.

It's like how my sister admits that rezero has a good story but refuse to watch it because she didn't like the suffering. And this is the same feeling like when I read Shotabaru being brutally murdered more than a hundred times.

And damn it, when Shotabaru cried and wailed because he finally managed to break through that hell loop was so damn satisfying. But I didn't get the same satisfaction at the end of this event story because this is a mobile game. That means I need to wait months to see the payoff for Saki's effort, and even then it would be preceded with other event stories with varying degrees of tone. I'm not satisfied with the ending for this event, and unlike Mafuyu's 3rd event story where the cliffhanger hinted of a change in status quo, the cliffhanger in No Seek No Find isn't that high stake. If they made the reception to Saki's new song to be lukewarm, it would mean they slapped Saki's hard work in her face so I didn't think the writing team would be that cruel... but who knows about that. Because the probability of her song being warmly accepted should be high, the conflict would be about the scout Saku(?) talked with. Which, while it might be interesting, would kinda sidelined Saki's conflict in No Seek No Find.

tl;dr No Seek No Find is objectively good and important for Saki, but personally the tone is too heavy compared to other Leo/Need stories for my liking, not enough warm-fuzzy feelings

#pjsekai #tenma saki #saki tenma #random gacha game post #kinda a little bit of rezero arc 7 spoilers #not analysis because this is more of my personal feeling about no seek no find #basically a rant #letting this out of priv

[fluffydragon22]

Loud Silence, Void of Loneliness and Self-consciousness.

--

"I just wanna live until 27 and then die"

Until now, i still hold onto this statement.

That means i'm 4 years away from it. I'm not saying i'm not grateful for the life that i have now, but when everything keeps going against me, i just want to be called home by God.

Why 27? Dunno. Perhaps because i still have "debts" i have to settle with my family and by the end of 26 is probably the age i can fully repay it back.

--|--

I might be an irritating person you can have in your life. I enjoy silence more than i enjoy talking. If you expect me to strike a conversation first, oh do i have a bad news for you.

I grew up with silence. I learned to hold back since i was a little boy. Even though i always got what i wanted from my parents, that is the exact reason why i like to hold back. I never had the courage to directly asked what i wanted. Though they understood it, it was long time ago. Outside of home, being silence led me to a whole new different way of living.

That's why, i'd rather have someone tells me about what they want than them, asking me about what i want. It's much easier to be the one who listens. So that's precisely the same reason why i'll always be lost in thoughts whenever someone asks me what i want.

--

When somebody comes into my life and starts to talk a lot more than usual to me, i always love it. But deep down, i'm panicking. Eh what do you call it? People pleaser, is it not? I think i used to be that kind of person, or maybe i still am that kind of person now. I'd do anything in my disposal to stay close to them.

I'm almost 23 right now, and for the entirety of my life so far, i could count the most meaningful, closest people that i've met with only one hand. Yet apart from the deceased one, i think i'm no more than a forgotten chapter for the rest of them. Don't get me wrong, i hope that the fire still lights up when they see me, or whenever they hear my name being mentioned, but as the day goes by, it seems to be getting further and fading away.

A motto that i always hold is that i hate people who have given me the scars. In return, if i hurt others, i'll try to stay away from them as i can as the punishment to myself that has given the scars to other.

But you know, i think i'm so selfish because i want them to forgive me and tell me that it's alright even if i make that mistake. I acknowledged it but the desire to have it is still strong regardless of how many times i have been done the opposite.

That was the case with somebody from my first elementary school days. Perhaps because she was selfless (though the word selfless seems to be contradictory to how she was), she reeled me back to her. That was the first and the last time someone directly told me that she wanted me back while showing me that she meant those words at the same time. I thought it was just her being a kind, innocent person like how the usual kids would be, but even years after that, she was still doing the same thing to me, over and over again.

(May you rest in peace, sweet little muffin...)

But as i grow up, i fully understand that some mistakes can't be forgiven that easily and some people won't forgive you even if you beg to them. So i no longer expect anyone to welcome me. I no longer expect anyone can be like that girl. I dumped every hopes that i once had to anyone and chose to seclude myself, away from anyone.

Solitude is the best choice after all. You don't disappoint anyone, you learn how to enjoy being on your own, talking to yourself whenever you really want to talk about your day but nobody else is there, crying in silence while still showing the smile to the world outside, and most importantly, being able to forgive yourself for being weak, being able to forgive yourself when the forgiveness that you seek from others never came, and being able to forgive yourself for expecting too much.

The silence is loud and gets louder as time passes by, but as long as i manage to avoid hurting anyone like i have done before, then i have nothing to complain.

--

I like to wander aimlessly on my own. Perhaps nobody will come to save me from going to the deepest part of my mind, but as for now, living inside my own world means living in the past.

I tried to stay in the present time. I tried to go out, enjoy the life outside, yet disappointment after disappointment keeps coming my way. It's unavoidable of course, but i'm too tired to face the present as the result.

I am a human with so many flaws. I have known it for so long. Since i was in high school, some people even directly told me about my flaws in front of others. It's fine if it was something i could change in less than 5 minutes, but mostly, what they told me was something i couldn't change in a fairly short amount of time.

Like the way i laughed which they said was so ugly, the way one of my ear shape is a little different to the other one, how i couldn't play sports properly, how fat i am. I became so self-conscious as day went by and the more people told me about all of it. All of it eventually became the voices in my head that keeps repeating itself everyday.

There are good things in life everyday, of course. I'm grateful for each and every good things that i have.

But the combo of loneliness, living in my own world, and extra self-conscious after a series of unfortunate events throughout the years, is one of the worst combo you can have.

Ah, what am i even trying to say through this writing....

[seohyunpoint]

INTERVIEW | SEOHYUN ✦ ARENA HOMME+ OCTOBER 2022

SEOHYUN, 'I don't want to make only safe choices" 

Q. Not long ago <Jinxed at First> ended filming. The change in seasons was seen in the drama. How  long did you shoot?

 A. We started filming in September of last year and filmed for over 3 months. It was work I was so grateful for. The director was incredibly jolly and the direction was clear so atmosphere on set was truly nice. I got close to the actors too and it was a truly energetic site. Dramas film over a long period. I think the process is also important because I don’t live just for results. I was thankful and happy for this production process.

Q. A fairytale-like setting in the original webtoon, situations far off from every life, and events and set-up like a manhwa. The character also requires exaggerated acting. Did you have any burdens?

I didn’t want to make just safe choices. It’s my life, and as an actor my filmography will accumulate for the entirety of my life. With this project I wanted to show various sides of myself, and expand my acting career as I develop. 

Q. Is there a pressure to challenge new characters and show a new look every time?

A. I didn’t want to make only safe choices. It’s my life, and as an actor my filmography will build up for the rest of my life. Through this (most recent) project, I wanted to show another side of me, and expand my acting career as I grow.

Q. The character of Seulbi doesn’t look easy to play. Seulbi must have been a challenge, right?

A. She was a big challenge. In fact, I chose it because it looked like the most difficult project of any I had been offered. When would I ever do something like this? I chose it because it was a project I wanted to remain in my filmography, and after the first meeting with the director, I was certain. Last year I filmed multiple projects one after another so my schedule made it nearly impossible, but the director told me he could not it do it if not for me and that he would wait, so I made up my mind. It’s a destined project. And the character of Seulbi is truly similar to my personality.

Q. Your tension (energy/hyperness) was no joke?

A. That’s my “real” hyperness. (Laughs) I always had that energy whenever I went on set.  It was like that during ‘Love and Leashes’, and also during ‘Holy Night: Demon Hunters’.  It was enjoyable because the character was well-matched with my real energy. I had a lot of concerns. Since it’s an original webtoon and unrealistic, it could feel forced/inauthentic. Since she is not a character that is easy to identify with, there were quite a few points I was worried about how to express. Rather than seeking references, I read the webtoon, read the script, and approached it with the intention of bringing out the most Seulbi side of me and and melding that naturally. 

Q. You cursed superbly in ‘Private Lives’

A. (Laughs) Right. It’s even more lit in ‘Love and Leashes’. After ‘Love and Leashes’, even more diverse scripts came in. (Characters) ranging from high school students to their mid-late 30s. Since I’m 32 years old, I was grateful to be offered a variety of ages. In the past I was only offered roles in their 20s. As time goes by, I feel that the breadth of my acting is becoming wider so I think I chose my past works well so far.

Q. I think playing a challenging character can be a turning point as an actor. In other words, to elaborate on what you mentioned about expanding your range, it sounds like a statement of ‘I can also do this kind of acting’. 

A. That’s right. I never set a limit when choosing a project. I have never once thought for this or that reason I wouldn’t want to do (a project). I was always open, even when discussing it with the company. The scripts that came in after the drama ‘Private Lives’ become more diverse. I think a new side of me was seen.

Q. We’re also looking forward to a strong role from you in the future. Netflix’s “Song of the Bandits’ comes in strong from the title.

A. I have done a period piece before, but this is my first time doing a period piece set during the Japanese colonial period. The script is so interesting. Rather than taking on the challenge because of the character, I like the message of the project. The character is strong, she’s not quirky (*compared to Jiwoo, Seulbi, etc). After reading a script I choose based on what I want to leave and challenge in my career. ‘Song of the Bandits’ was a work that touched my heart greatly. It has really been a joy to film. 

Q. Even if the process might be fun, the hard part is the results. Isn’t it hard to detach from evaluations based on the outcomes that lead to them?

A. I don’t know about that. Of course, it’s the best if the result are good. But I think I would regret if I had to choose a work just eyeing outcomes. Without seeing a greater value, you are just chasing the light when there is a lot to gain from the shadows. I consider the process more important. As the processes accumulate, I think one will get good results eventually. It does not help an actor much to be bent on making choices only for the results. 

Q. Your heart must go in a different direction depending on the time period (you’re in) right? (Referring to characters she chooses to play)

A. That’s right. That’s why I’m content with my present projects not being consistent/uniform.

Q. How is your status right now?

A. It may be different tomorrow, but from where I stand today, I want to tell a realistic love story. It’s love stories that resonate the most. It’s a subject everyone navigates through and worries about. I want to try an ordinary everyday love story.

Q. You did a lot of of love stories didn’t you?

A. They weren’t ordinary. I was swept up in tremendous incidents, for example scamming or extreme suicidal situations. I want to try a normal and genuine love story that anyone can relate to.

Q. Isn’t ‘everyday acting’ an area that requires built up experience? 

Of course. There’s no acting that’s easy. Even seniors with 40~50 years of experience say they get nervous and that it's hard when they come on set. Acting gets more difficult the more you do it.

Q. You wont live like a moth to a fire!

A. Exactly!

Q. Where does your clear self-confidence and solid self-esteem come from?

A. It wasn’t this way from the beginning. When I was young, a lot of troubles and mistakes flew circles my head. I learned a lot from my mistakes. Things have already happened. I realized that if you have the time, it’s more important to think productively than blaming myself, being tormented, and thinking bad things. I tried little by little as if training my thoughts. What I did the most was read. It’s said that people know it all in the contents of a book, but I didn’t understand. So then are you living life just as it’s written in that book? I know you have to create good habits. But as you know, the present is hard if you can’t do that. If you want to change your life, try following the books, and if it doesn’t work, it can’t be helped. I set big goals and practiced them daily just as outlined in books. When I looked at myself objectively, I created habits toward the aspects I wanted to improve and life I aim for. As I trained my mind each day, from then my goals eventually started to come true. It’s even okay if I make a mistake now. Because it’s not like this is the only thing I have in my life. I already made the mistake, what could I do? I can do well next time. Like this, my thoughts changed. Life has become easier. 

Q. Don’t your friends say they respect you? (For self-esteem and confidence)

A. They say it’s fascinating. I have a lot of friends who say that (laugh). But this doesn’t happen overnight. I changed completely by working hard at it for around 10 years. I still get gloomy/depressed when I have a hard time but I recover faster than before. 

Q. What books did you read?

I read a lot of self-help books. I want to be accomplished and live my one life happily and enjoyably. Because I want to create a life that is better than the one I have now. What efforts did the people who make such lives make? Nothing just falls from the sky. You’re never going to just suddenly do well by doing nothing. You can’t hope for success after just a month of hard work either. That is greediness. Let’s keep at it. I trusted someday it would happen, so my heart became tougher. I gained something really big in my life (from reading). I think I gained the power to live believing in myself without being rattled or falling apart.  

Q. That is a respect-worthy attitude.

A. Life is hard. It’s hard, and you feel discouraged and doubt yourself and negative feelings keep piling up. Still you can’t let that happen. If you have confidence in yourself, you can do anything well.

Q. Seohyun-ssi, what is the most important value in your life?

A. It’s happiness. You can say life itself is about choosing happiness. Even if it’s hard today, I want to be happier today over the hope that I will be happy some day. I don’t mean just playing around and drinking. Finding a real, worthwhile happiness is my great purpose. Work is important but work is just a part of happiness. I don’t work for money or glory. I work because it makes me happy. Work is part of my life, it’s not my whole life. If you live for happiness, I think everything else seems to follow naturally.

Q. How did creating goals, following plans, and trying to develop mentally efforts help acting? Does acting practice follow that same path?

A. I think script analysis is important. To understand the work well and become one with the character comes first. The next question is how to express it. Rather than trying to express myself stylishly and beautifully, I want to get to the essence, why behave this way, why look this way, and after carefully analyzing each thing one by one I apply the voice tone and work on creating the visuals. So I do a lot of note-taking. Analyzing scenes is a given, but there are a lot of empty spaces in the script. A character’s life story isn’t in the script. I fill that void with my imagination. That preparation is important and I think it’s a job that requires a lot of responsibility. As the years of experience accumulate, that so-called vibe comes as a stroke of luck. I want to try to avoid that. I think I need to expand and develop myself. When I look at the world from only my experiences, my point of view narrows. When I talk to juniors I might say something like “when I was young”. What I experienced isn’t everything but I could get stuck in my own experience. When that happens I get angry with myself. Even when I act, I forget what I did in the past and try to continue make it new.

Q. You have no cracks. As an actor, what is the driving force underlying your efforts to create a character and maintain your original intentions? Could you say it’s a (moral) belief?

A. What doesn’t change is it begins with my own self. I think one has to be wary of looking at references and resource materials. Because it’s cool to create that person with my own color. When I am offered a project, I think I have to act in a way no one but me can do. I have to express it so only my own color seeps out. It’s my belief that I should not lose my color.

Q. To express colors differently from just your own, you need to collect enough data right? Observing everyday people and reading social phenomenas and trends shrewdly.

I like to observe people at cafes and Han River Park. Since my personality is polar E in MBTI, it’s hard for me to stay at home. I even read scripts outside. I also need a change of atmosphere. Sometimes I read scripts in in the mountains, sometimes I go for a walk outdoors with my dog, I even lay out a mat by myself and watch people. Sometimes open my laptop and work alone in a cafe. When you’re observing like that there are moments you gain something from it. These days it’s even fun to observe what tone of speech other people use.

SOURCE: Arena Korea

Note: Acting and self-growth related portions. Errors are possible.

#SEOHYUN #SEO JUHYUN #INTERVIEW #TRANSLATION #ARENA #ARENA HOMME PLUS #ARENA KOREA

[formulamei]

the game, － mick schumacher.

summary: teasing mick during a party at a club with his formula 1 team is just the first step of your carefully planned and thought through plan. and with the evening just starting, it's game on.

word count: 2.9k

content: NSFW smut / explicit sexual themes (IF YOU AREN'T COMFORTABLE WITH SMUT, SIMPLY DON'T READ.), semi-public sex, (club) bathroom sex, teasing, pet names, oral (f receiving), fingering, vaginal sex, edging, orgasm denial, unprotected sex (this is fiction, be responsible irl), established relationship, parties, mentions of being drunk/alcohol (neither mick nor the reader!), brat taming(?)

a/n: whoever reads this, you matter and ily <3. your guys' support on my blog has been amazing and it genuinely warms my heart. every. damn. time. thank you so so much - the feedback is always welcomed and appreciated. i'm so sorry how long the time between my writing uploads is, i'm very busy and only have little time to write :(. nonetheless, mick has always had a special place in my heart due to his dad; i hope you enjoy this :-) (fyi if you want to be added to the taglist, just send an ask)

taglist: @cormac-kenway @theringers

when you had arrived at the opulent club, it was already bustling with life. the event had been organised by mick's side of the haas garage, although most of the crew members had arrived with their significant others and closest friends a while ago. people were dancing, singing – though it sounded more like slightly incoherent roaring of the wrong lyrics –, laughing and overall having a good time.

now, you obviously weren't wearing the short, silky satin dress on purpose. it was a pure coincidence, really; at least that's what you told mick innocently on your way there.

in truth, you just wanted to rile him up a bit. who wouldn't enjoy seeing his eyes widen when he first saw you, or the way he couldn't keep his hands off you at any given moment? no matter whether he would lay his hand on your waist or wrap his arm around your shoulders to pull you closer to him, he always found some way to seek physical contact.

he was heavily sought out though, constantly engaged in pleasant conversations with people throughout the night. in return, this meant he couldn't spend the entire night glued to your side.

despite attentively listening and talking to whoever was in front of him, his eyes would always find their way back to you. he saw you dancing with some of the other girls, chatting to his engineer gary, who surprisingly showed up, and catching up with the occasional crew member. his gaze raked over your face and body; you looked absolutely stunning. more often than once he had to force himself to tear his eyes away from your radiant skin, your neckline, your smile, your thighs.

it was a game both of you knew oh too well – a game in which you knew that the other was never seriously trying to get with someone else, but much rather trying to get under the other's skin. and, boy, was it working for mick.

it was a well thought out scheme, and you loved it. you loved the thrill of evading his stern glances and disobeying his silent commands just as much as he loved reminding you whom exactly you belonged to. 

it had been at the back of your head for the entirety of the evening, a thought constantly expressing itself with unrelenting persistence. you were standing close to one of the engineers from the other side of the garage, a genuinely nice young man, just a bit older than you, who was a bit more than tipsy. he was holding the conversation well, laughing heartily at what you were saying and when you laughed and spoke with equal enthusiasm, mick's jaw ticked. 

the engineer was animatedly talking about an embarrassing story of his, words slurred slightly and hands gesticulating wildly, all senses of shame long gone with his state of intoxication. honestly, you found it hilariously entertaining but your mission, ultimately, was to rile up your boyfriend. 

mick, at the other side of the club, felt the green monster rear its ugly head; the feeling had festered in his body the moment you left his side with that wicked smile on your face and that devilish wink you gave him. 

you knew. the moment you laid your hand on the engineer's bicep and leaned forward while laughing with him, you knew. you could practically feel his heavy gaze on you and the way the jealousy was boiling inside of him. 

mick conveniently walked past you, leaning towards your ear for the briefest moment. "go wait for me in the bathroom, yeah?" he whispered, driven by lust and envy and everything that made you you. the only thing you could do was nod, frozen in place now that he had finally played into your tactics. 

you quickly excused yourself to the bathroom a bit later, swaying your hips a bit more than necessary, which only angered mick more. when you arrived, the club's bathroom honestly was asking for couples to have sex there; red mood lights and the dim atmosphere added to the enthralling ambience just as much as the sleek, contemporary design in black did.

mick entered the bathroom a few minutes later, slipping away from the crowd with ease. his broad shoulders were squared, his jaw set and eyebrows slightly furrowed – you could tell he was livid with the way you acted the entire evening.

he immediately took your jaw in one hand and pressed his lips to yours, using the little gasp you emitted to assertively push his tongue against your own. his teeth nipped and pulled at your bottom lip, only pulling away and letting go of your face when you were both panting for air, faces flushed.

"you just love acting up," he said under his breath, now trailing wet, hot kisses down your jawline and throat, "such a brat, huh?"

you whimpered, finding it more difficult to breathe as he left hickeys along your neck and collarbones. your hands found their way to his blond hair, tugging at the roots gently. he had backed you up against the vanity in the process, its plywood and the porcelain of the sink pressing into your lower back.

he stopped kissing your décolletage, went back to his full height and delicately wrapped a hand around your throat, the other one squeezing your hip. "you better answer me, liebling," he whispered, letting his hand move up to your jaw, caressing your cheek briefly.

heat rushed through your body at the pet name, the german word making your head spin; he had you wrapped around his finger and you certainly didn't mind. 

"yes…," you mumbled, feeling a hint of regret for teasing mick so much as well as humiliation from him making you admit to it. somehow it made the situation even more arousing.

"come on, speak up," he demanded, slowly feeling up your body in a way that made you pliant instantly. "yes," you said breathlessly, "i'm a brat." the previous shame of having to agree to him was already gone. all you could think of was him; him and his hands, his face, his voice, everything. 

"there we go, that wasn't so difficult, hm?" he grinned, hoisting you up onto the counter with practiced ease. 

mick’s hands were back on your body instantaneously, they pushed up the fabric of your dress and bundled it above your hips. his fingertips wandered to your thighs with soothing patterns, making goosebumps arise on your skin. you were desperately trying to rut your hips against the bulge in his tight-fitting dress pants.

“i wonder how wet you are, schatz,” he mused confidently, already knowing you were beyond eager for him. two of his fingers ran up and down your clothed pussy, feeling the heat and wetness through the thin material, making you moan in the process. the german fully removed your underwear, tugging them down your legs and throwing them somewhere behind him in a blasé manner. “just as i thought… you’re soaking, aren’t you?”

mick knelt down on the floor, eye to eye with your cunt, and his hot breath fanning onto you made you squirm where you sat. “be a good girl and spread your legs for me,” he rasped, nudging them apart to encourage you. you let out a ragged gasp as he entered a single finger into your core, rocking it in and out of you in what you’d nearly call lackadaisical boredom.

you noticed then that he was taking his time with you; he didn’t curl his digit into you the way he knew you’d be screaming, he avoided the spot which had you shaking. your leg twitched when he finally stroked that spongy part of you, biting your bottom lip harshly. “mick… right there, please –,” you whimpered, trying to buck your hips for him to hit that spot again. 

mick set the small embers in your belly aflame with his contented smile, making the billows of steam roll through your body. he kissed the inside of your thigh, continuing the lazy thrusts of his finger, admiring the way your arousal coated it. your grip on his hair tightened when he pumped a second digit in and out of you, feeling flushed.

all cohesive thoughts in your head had been abandoned with him repeatedly hitting that same intimate spot. it made your thighs shake and you struggled to keep them open. ever so attentive, mick threw your legs over his shoulders and hooked his unoccupied arm over one of them, prying it open for you. your mouth opened in a silent scream when he made a “come-hither” motion inside of you, getting high on desire and pleasure.

his thumb moved to your sensitive clit and your hips naturally jutted up and your back arched, he was working you just right. you felt the heat simmering in your stomach, building with a hungry fervor. your moans spilled over your lips carelessly at the feeling of fireworks being set off in the entirety of your system, seeking your high.

just as you felt about ready to tip over the edge and wholly succumb to your orgasm and his eyes met yours, pupils dilated, everything disappeared. the searing knot and its bursting flames were diminished to nothing more than a low simmer, like mere coal that wouldn’t spark even a hint of a fire. a sob tore itself from your throat at the sudden, cruel egress of everything. mick only looked up at you with a glint of amusement, his slick fingers caressing your thighs in order to calm you down. 

“no, no… mick,” you mewled, writhing against his touch as tears threatened to spill from your heavy-lidded eyes, “that’s not fair, please…”

“i don’t exactly remember you playing fair earlier on, or do you?” his question was met with silence, other than your heavy panting. “that’s what i thought, liebling,” he muttered.

his hands slid across your form, kneading your skin softly and placing sweet, soothing kisses where he went. once he decided you had recovered from not being granted an orgasm, he knelt back down again, eyes flitting up to your face.

“are you good to continue, süße?” he said against the skin of your thigh whilst he placed your slightly trembling legs back onto his shoulders. 

“god, yes, please continue,” you rasped, still rather breathless. you were met with a small chuckle that made your heart sear. 

he licked a broad stripe up your pussy, making your head hit the mirror behind you as your abdominal muscles simultaneously tensed. you moaned as he continued to trace his tongue along your folds, alternating between using the width and tip of his tongue.

when he paused on your clit and massaged it slowly with the flat of his tongue, you drew in a ragged breath. 

"mick… mick," you whined, the stimulation feeling heavenly with your heightened reactions and responsiveness. he simply shushed you before diving back in, resuming his ministrations on your clit.

he moved down further and trailed around your entrance before letting his tongue delve into you, shallowly thrusting in and out of you. the sensation, added with his nose brushing against your clit occasionally, made your jaw drop as you let out a near-pornographical moan. your hips seemed to move on their own accord, grinding against his face and bucking in such a manner that had your back arching.

you didn't have it in you to feel embarrassed at how quickly he had reduced you back to a whining mess for him, your orgasm steadily approaching. mick attached his lips around your clit, flicking the bundle of nerves with the tip of his tongue promptly before sucking at it. you whimpered at the ministrations, your climax impending, already waiting on the horizon.

“oh my god, i’m so close,” you moaned and tugged at his messy hair, hands clenching. you were so unbelievably close, but right when you were going to cum, mick retreated from your pussy completely, simply giving you a goading smile. you squirmed and threshed on the counter, desperately trying to chase your orgasm – to no avail. your peak receded just as fast as it had advanced, and it once again left nothing but the disappointing waves of cold water, drowning out the conflagration of lust and desire in mere moments.

“teasing doesn’t seem so fun now, does it?” he asked rhetorically, rising back to his full height and silencing your futile complaints with an intense kiss, pawing at your hot skin and the crumpled material of your dress. 

“mick, please let me cum…” you whispered, still panting, left feeling hot and bothered by him not once, but twice. you wantonly reached out to his chest and wrapped your shaky legs around him to pull him closer, mumbling small pleads.

“oh liebling, i’ll make sure of it,” he said, removing his hands from your body to unbuckle his belt and push down his dress pants and boxers.

you immediately extended your arm to take a hold of his cock, which looked painfully hard, and gave him a couple of strokes. his breath faltered and he bucked his hips slightly into your palm, finally receiving the pleasure he’d been needing.

“as much as i could continue like this, i need to be inside of you,” he said, surprising you by hoisting you off the counter in your jaded state, turning you around and pressing your front onto the cool wood. you barely registered the change of positions, too focused on the prospect of him finally fucking you.

he kicked open your legs a bit wider, running a hand down your back which sent shivers down your spine. you moaned when he rubbed his cock through your wet pussy, already overly sensitive. you leaned on your forearms and tried wiggling your ass to feel more of him, but he immediately retreated.

"you never learn, sweetheart. be patient," he reprimanded, holding out his hand in front of you. your confusion made him scoff.

"come on, spit in my hand," he said casually as heat rose to your face. you did as he said, whimpering when you heard him using his wet hand to stroke himself slowly behind you.

with his other hand, mick took your arms behind your back, crossed them and held them by your wrists. it wasn't uncomfortable by any means so you decided not to make a snarky remark; you were craving to finally have him fuck you, after all.

the temperature of the surface contrasted sweetly with the heat radiating from your body as you willingly pressed your cheek further into the wood. a small gasp left your body when he guided his dick back to your cunt, slowly entering it inch by inch.

once he was fully bottomed out, he gently kneaded your ass with the palm of his hand, waiting for you to give him the green light to begin. when he did feel you trying to press back up against him, a smooth roll of his hips immediately had you boneless.

he continued fucking into you, increasing his pace over the time, your moans correspondingly growing louder. "look at you, liebling," he breathed, "so pretty like this."

you squeezed your eyes shut, feeling him hit that perfect spot with every thrust. you felt intoxicated by the unadulterated pleasure, pure euphoria coursing through your bloodstream. 

"you feel so good mick," you whimpered quietly, barely trusting your own voice while your body jolted forward on the counter with the force of his movements. 

"hmm, so good for me when you're all fucked out like this," he said, leaning down briefly to place a kiss between your shoulder blades. 

his words only worked as an amplifier, intensifying the boundless pleasure. you clenched around him tightly, thighs twitching as he kept pounding into you. mick let out a low moan of his own when his eyes trailed down to where you two were obscenely connected. 

"i'm close, mick," you whined, squirming against his hold. he was hitting all the right spots and the fire in your belly had started to electrify again. "please let me cum, please."

"cum for me, darling," he groaned, putting his hand around your front to connect his fingers with your pulsing clit.

the added stimulation to his heavenly thrusting was the tipping point you needed to finally climax. your orgasm burned inside of you, it flared up and let free an inferno of pleasure. sheer ecstasy and bliss washed over you and tears formed in your eyes at the intensity of it all.

your orgasm quickly triggered mick's and you felt him finish inside of you, making you tighten around him once again. you were both panting, trying to catch your breath. he let go of your arms, carefully pulled out of you, turned you back around and placed you on the counter to envelop you in a hug.

"god, you're so good to me," he said into your shoulder, leaving feather light kisses in between his words. 

"says you…," you laughed quietly, wrapping your arms around him; you never wanted to let go of him and you were sure you never would. 

"next time you simply shouldn't be such a tease," he smiled at you, blue eyes looking up at you with humour. 

"if it always ends like this, i'm definitely gonna be more of a tease."

#mick schumacher #mick schumacher imagine #mick schumacher imagines #mick schumacher x reader #mick schumacher smut #f1 #formula 1 #f1 imagine #f1 smut #*mick #*writing #*

[potter-imagines]

Getting Drunk With Fred Weasley

Prompt: getting drunk w/ your boyfriend Fred would include + mini blurbs

Warning: drinking, swearing, and some suggestive wording

Word Count: 2.2k

Notes: n/a

Parties are not an uncommon event in the Gryffindor common room

Alcohol and drink mixtures of all sorts are being poured left and right every weekend

Most weekend you have a drink or two while catching up with your friends after a busy week of school

Other weekends you choose the path of getting plastered alongside your boyfriend off smuggled liquor and bottle of beer

On these night in particular, 

Fred does not let you out of his sight

At all

Unless of course Lee challenges him to a beer pong match then he’ll carefully usher you over the couch where he can keep an eye on you while he’s playing

Has to pause the match like 20 times to chase after you and lead you over to his side “Y/n! You know you can’t out drink Seamus- he’s Irish! C’mon, come watch me kick George and Lee’s ass. They’re so bad it takes two of them to even manage a winning shot yet somehow they still suck!”

Loves it when you cheer him on

Is constantly glancing over to reassure himself you haven’t run off again

Your distraction is heightened in this state

So he feels the need to be your second set of eyes

Which had come in handy many a times

Like when Ron dared you to touch the burning fire while he was wasted on dragon barrel brandy

“Don’t be a pussy, Y/n. Swipe your hand real fast and you won’t even feel a thing-” “Y/n, pull your hand away from that fire, love. Ron, what the fuck? Are you trying to set my girlfriend up in flames? Angel, Ron is an idiot, you know that, don’t do anything he says again.” “Hey!”

And the time when you all were playing strip poker and Fred quite literally threw himself on top of your body to cover your chest when George teased you to take your bra off and your hands reached back for the clasps

(( he bitched at George for five minutes straight for that suggestion ))

Fred knew you were not one to back down from a challenge, especially when drunk and not considering the consequences or regret that would follow

So he always made sure you never embarrassed yourself too much or did anything you’d be wanting to take back come morning

During any Gryffindor party, Fred is the life of it

When he’s not preoccupied fawning over you, he’s hopping around with George seeking out trouble

The man throws back liquor like its water

Claims he knows his limits, but he really doesn’t

He is a touchy drunk

Hands brushing through your hair as you chat on the couch

Arms wrapped around your shoulder as you laugh along with your friends

Fingers laced in yours whenever you’re near

He craves your touch even more so when the liquor taints his veins

Let’s be real, Fred is not exactly the type of boyfriend to try to get you to stop drinking

He still makes sure you’re safe and not over drinking but,

Most of the times,

He’s the one pouring the shots for you

And mixing the drinks

But he always knows when to stop, and when you’ve had enough to drink

He tries to mentally keep note of how many drinks you've had but loses track once he reaches about five on his own end

Sometimes he’ll silently swap out your glass of whiskey for a glass of pumpkin juice

It’s obvious to Fred that he made the right choice when he watched as you sipped gleefully on the juice, not making a single comment on the dramatic change in taste

In these moments he begins to prepare himself for a night of babysitting you

And he’s so sweet in helping you on the nights when you go an inch- or ten- overboard

Carries you up to your bed and helps you change out of your clothes and into new ones for bed

He gets you wipes to take of your makeup, if you’re wearing any, and he’ll sit you between his legs on your bed while he brushes through your hair

After you’re properly ready for bed, Fred makes sure to set a glass of water on your nightstand incase you get thirsty and a bag of crackers if you get hungry

Stays the night without question when you ask

Other times he stays regardless of if you do or don’t

Your roommates don’t mind seeing as he takes care of you meaning they don’t have to

He’ll lay on his back and usher you over to place you head on his chest

His fingertips will soothingly trail up and down you back, lulling you into a deep sleep with the rhythmic motion

Tries his best to make sure you fall asleep first

Drunk Fred really has no control over his sleep habits and has a tendency to pass out from sudden exhaustion at any moment

One second him and George are fucking around with partygoers, supply them with different products of theirs, and causing pure chaos

The next second Fred was snoozing away while he laid on the couch with his head in your lap

Then he was back up an going again

Like a toddler on a sugar high

He’s such a giggly drunk

Kisses to the tip of your nose

Always smiling over at you and complimenting you  

“Have I told you how breathtaking you look tonight?” “Only ten times, but I’m okay with elven.” “Let’s make it twelve, you looks absolutely stunning- so pretty, and all mine.”

The boy can’t help it, you make him feel weightless with happiness sober and the feeling only intensifies when he’s been drinking

There are nights when Fred can’t seem to taste the scorching burn of the liquor anymore after about six shots and it these nights where George and yourself are left dragging him up the stairs

George will beg you to stay the night because he can’t handle Fred’s drunken rambling about how much he misses you

And you agree because, how could you say no to Fred’s adorable puppy dog eyes and grabby hands longing for you to cuddle with him

If you two are both drunk, you’ll stay up talking- or rather whispering- under his comforter

He’ll stumble over his words and jumps from topic to topic in the blink of an eye

Uncontrollable giggles as he whispers- or rather stutters- out the most confusing jokes you’ve ever heard

Like

“Angel, angel…” “Yes, Freddie?” “What happens when a toad’s car breaks down?” “I dunno…” “It gets froged!” “I’m sorry, come again? Isn’t it meant to be the frog’s car that breaks down and it gets ‘toad’...not ‘froged’?”

But he’s out like a light before you can get an explanation

He breathes like darth vader when he’s in his drunken slumber

Yet its somehow comforting in an odd way

Like it reminds you that he’s there holding you

And also that he’s still alive, which is surprising at times with the amount of drinks he consumes in one night

If you think Fred acts reckless sober, he thinks he’s invincible when he’s drunk which is even worse

He’ll agree to almost anything

If Ron were to tell him he bet Fred wouldn’t jump from the Astrology Tower all the way down to the courtyard? Fred would do it just in spite of him

The only time this attitude of his had gotten him into trouble was when Fred, George and Lee came up with the grand idea to go down the boy’s dormitory staircase on mattresses

Fred, being the brilliant man he is, decided to go first

You had been gossiping away in the common room to Hermione about a new Muggle actor the two of you had seen in a film when you heard the loud crashing, followed by the voice you loved so much groaning in agony

By the time you reached the opening to the stairwell, George and Lee were aiding Fred down the stone steps, carefully avoiding his ankle which had been twisted in an inhuman position

Madam Pomfrey surprisingly kept hum about Fred’s intoxication and instead scolded him for hours on end about his reckless, mindless choice to try to slide down, winding, steep, stone steps

Once news reached the professors the nest morning, McGoagall dismissed 40 points from Gryffindor for the incident

Using your mattress to surf down the twirling stairwell has since been prohibited

On a separate occasion Fred had accident lit the edge of the curtain on fire

You can always tell when he’s reached that level by the volume in his tone

It tends to get deeper the more intoxicated he becomes

And his words slowly slur together into a string of blabber

Mostly compliments, sweet words, and sometimes suggestive ones as well

Fred gets a bit more… forward when he’s got that liquid courage soaring through him

His hands will start to roam slowly from around your waist to your lower back, then resting on your bum

He gets turned on watching you play beer pong for some reason

Especially when you win

Maybe it’s the view he’s graced with when you bend to bounce the pin pong ball

Or the feistiness that arises when the match gets hot

It’s more than enticing for him

Fred can feel his frame get stiffer everytime you bend across the table to retrieve the cup and chug the beer from it

When the round has ceased and you’re declared champion yet again, Fred steps forward to pull you in for a hug

As he gives you a kiss on the cheek, he whispers, 

“Good girl! Now if you beat George again I’ll give you a special surprise later tonight, angel.”

Which makes your knees weak like jell-o as your frame pushes into his for support

It doesn’t help that you can feel just how excited he is through the denim of his jeans

Fred dips his head to plant a trail of wet, teasing kisses along the skin of your warm neck until George was groaning and pleading for you to start the match

You practically shook for the entirety of the game, still managing to sink almost every shot into a cup forcing George to drink for the majority of it

He ended up tapping out once you nailed the seventh cup in a row and kept your winning streak alive due to his need to find a trash can immediately

You stopped there to join Fred by his side as he smiled to you, clearly pleased that you won

“Looks like someone is getting rewarded tonight.”

His arm draped around your shoulder as you leaned into his side, your cheeks flaring from the mass of bodies but mostly from Fred’s suggestive promise

He only forced you to suffer through the party for another ten minutes or so before pouring one last shot for the both of you, then nearly pushing you up the winding stairs to his dorm

Lets just say he certainly fulfilled on his promise- more than once that night

Loves it when you sit in his lap when you’re on the couch together

Whispers dirty secrets into your ear

Drunk Fred leaves hickies under the clothes

He’s not the type to care who’s around, he’ll try to slide his hand up your skirt in front of nearly anyone when he’s inebriated

“Fred- you’re brother is sitting right there, stop it!” “Shhhh, angel. He’s not even watching, right George?” “Right, Fred.” “See?”

To which you glare dangerous at him as you place his hand back in his lap, but Fred continues to smirk in amusement

It’s like you’re a preschool teacher constantly having to tell a child to keep their hands to themselves, Fred just refuses to listen

Fred doesn’t necessarily get jealous of other guys

He trusts you and he’s confident enough in your relationship not to feel threatened by other guys

However he is possessive af over you when he’s been drinking

In a sweet way tho

Literally wants all your time and attention when he’s drunk

If you don’t feel like dancing, he’ll ask you to come watch him dance

When you say you need to use the bathroom, he’ll ask a million times if you want him to come with

If George places a bet against Fred in a game of cards, Fred will drag you over to sit next to him as Seamus shuffles the deck and prepares the table

He’ll show you his cards and tell you to pick one

Even though he knows you’re completely unaware of the rules to the game, he loves the smile of excitement that appears on your face when he lets you

And in the rare times that you do say no, he works his magic with those big doe eyes and pouty lip until you say yes

It brings him comfort when you’re by his side

Your nights end the same each day, wrapped in his arms listening to the relaxing thump of his heart as the two of you doze off, both silently dreading the awaiting hangover than would surely greet you first thing in the morning, but you wouldn’t want it any other way

#Fred Weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley imagines #fred weasley oneshot #Fred and George Weasley #george weasley imagine #george weasley imagines #george weasley #george weasley one shot #george weasley x reader #weasley twins #weasley #Ginny Weasley #Ron Weasley #Harry Potter #harry potter imagines #harry potter imagine #hp #hp imagines #hp imagine #imagines #Weasley twins imagine #weasley twins imagines

[ginnyweasleymybeloved]

summer breezes / george weasley

hi crew :) idk why i wrote this but i was in a george mood so here we go ;)

summary: george acts like he hates you, he doesn’t really hate you. you act like you hate him, but you don’t really hate him. chaos ensues.

slight neville x reader for a second

word count: 6.9k

warnings: swearing, george being mean, lil angsty, fluffy at the end, reader’s house is not specified <3, mentions of food, kissing

let me know what you think ;)

“And what do you expect me to do? By the time I’d even realised I was falling I’d already landed face first on the proverbial concrete,” you groaned out in exasperation, while your best friend looked at you with so much distaste that anyone would’ve thought you’d murdered his family pet.

He shook his head, a scowl as clear as day splashed across his lips as he reprimanded you for your heart’s foolishness, “Of all people…” he scoffed in disgust, “Honestly, Y/n.”

“You know, you shouting at me isn’t going to fix anything,” he rolled his eyes at your statement and racked his eyes over your disheveled state. You’d obviously been battling with yourself over your—unfortunate—crush for some time. As your best friend, Ron Weasley knew he’d have to soften up on you eventually, but honestly, it was your own fault for falling for one of his disastrous siblings.

You were currently sprawled out on Harry’s bed, across from the red-headed boy you’d known since you were in nappies, your arms hanging off the edges of Harry’s four-poster. Neither you or Ron had a clue where Harry, or Hermione, had disappeared off to today. Harry was probably on the quidditch pitch practicing while Hermione haunted the library, you supposed as you listened to Ron’s rantings, wishing they’d been there to mediate.

“—of all of my siblings too! You couldn’t have picked, oh I don’t know, Charlie? Or Fred even? Merlin, even Ginny! But no! You just had to go and bloody fall for the only Weasley who actively cannot stand you.” You only caught that portion of his rave, having gotten lost in the idea of being coddled sympathetically by Harry or Hermione. You adore Ron, really, he’s your loyalist and longest friend, but Merlin was he a total drama queen.

“Charlie is five years older than me, Fred is my wingman and honestly, I snogged him on a dare last summer and I wasn’t that impressed and in case you’ve forgotten, Ronald, Ginny is dating Harry,” you lectured, ignoring how he rolled his eyes as you continued, “Also I’m well aware that he hates me. You don’t need to keep reminding me.”

His composure cracked after hearing your depressed mumble, and with a sigh he moved from his spot on his own bed and made the short trip over to Harry’s. Ron gently pulled you into a sitting position on the edge of the mattress and sat himself down next to you. He let out a heavy sigh, still slightly shaking his head—he couldn’t seem to stop—, then he dropped a heavy arm around your shoulder and pulled you into his side, finally offering you the comfort you’d been seeking out in the first place.

“S’alright, Y/n. Maybe he’ll get hit in the head with a bludger and forget he’s hated you since he was four.” Ron encouraged, very weakly.

You released a sigh of your own at that, “I feel like I’m betraying myself here. Like I’m letting that stupid git win.” Ron couldn’t stop the laugh he let out at your grumble.

“I’ll be honest, I thought he’d be the first to crack. You can be quite scary when you get going.” Ron divulged, shuddering at the memories of when he’d been on the receiving end of your rath.

Your family and the Weasley family had been extremely close since before you or Ron were even born, which meant you’d grown up alongside all of the Weasley children. Of course, because of your ages you and Ron had been attached at the hip as infants and remained that way even now, late into your fifth year of Hogwarts. Most of the Weasley children simply adored you, as you did them. However, there was one boy who, for whatever reason, hated you to your very core and as far as you could remember; he always had.

He is none other than the younger of the two twins; George Weasley. Despite the fact that Fred was actually quite fond of you, his twin refused to warm up to you in any way, shape or form. No, the tall and annoyingly attractive boy had made it his life’s mission not to get along with you, but instead, wage a war on you that spanned for the entirety of your childhood and adolescence.

“When did things change? When did it stop being a challenge? When did it start affecting me like this? I used to take his insults like a champ! I used to get him back worse!” You wondered out loud, letting your head flop onto Ron’s broad shoulder as he let out a puff of air through his nose.

“You still take it like a champ, numpty,” he chastised you gently, recoiling ever so slightly when you lurched forward in complete defeat. Your hands shot up to cover your face as you rested your forehead against your knees.

“No! I don’t,” you murmured dejectly, lifting your face from your hands to make eye contact with Ron. “Do you remember the other night in the Great Hall? When Neville told me he thought my hair looked pretty? And George, out of bloody nowhere, comes over and says and I quote, ‘I wouldn’t waste your time on this one, Longbottom. You’d have a better time kissing that toad of yours.’ Do you remember that?” Ron raised an eyebrow and nodded in confusion, your voice seemed to be steadily rising in octaves as you recalled the events of the other night. He had to admit, it had been an unusually unnecessary comment on George’s part, but the youngest Weasley boy wasn’t really sure where you were going with it.

“Well do you remember how I had said, ‘how’s that girlfriend of yours, Georgie? Figured out a way to make her stop being invisible yet?’ and then remember I rushed off? Do you wanna know where I rushed off to?” You pressed, watching intently as Ron nodded his head, unsure if he even wanted to know. “I went to the bathroom and I cried! I cried, Ron! Over something George bloody Weasley said to me!”

His eyes widened at that. Never once had George ever managed to properly upset you.

“And over something as small as that? I’ve heard him say a lot worse to your face.” Ron said in disbelief and you nodded, expression mimicking his as if you couldn’t believe it yourself.

“Right? And it’s like everytime he says something mean to me now my stomach drops and it actually hurts,” Ron regarded you softly, his eyes sad while he rubbed your back as you buried your face in your hands yet again, “Do you know what’s worse though?”

Ron opened his mouth to hazard a guess but no sound escaped as he drew nothing but blanks.

“I actually care what he thinks of me now. As if I actually value his idiotic opinions of me.”

It was at that moment that Harry entered the room sporting muddy quidditch gear and a confused expression, “May I ask why we’re having a heart to heart on my bed?”

Ron shrugged, continuing to rub soothing circles into your back as he told Harry mournfully, “Y/n likes George.”

“Merlin.” Harry whispered, as horrified to learn of your crush as Ron had been. “But, Y/n, he hates you! I mean he really hates you-“ the chosen one was cut off by a pillow making contact with his face. Ron had chucked it at him the second he felt your form begin to shake beneath his touch.

“Bloody hell, Harry! You’ve gone and upset her even more!” He whispered harshly. Harry quickly set his broom down and plopped himself down beside you, leaving you trapped between himself and Ron. The green-eyed boy rested his cheek against your lightly shaking back and managed to snake his arms around your torso.

“Sorry. Shouldn’t have said that.” He told you genuinely. “Should we go and find Hermione?”

You only shook your head. Embarrassment quickly overtook you as you realised your were crying in front of your two best friends over George fucking Weasley.

“No. No, I’m okay. It’s fine,” you sat up and hastily wiped your tears away.

“It’s okay to be upset, Y/n,” Harry spoke softly, squeezing your middle in a short hug, getting mud from his quidditch practice all over you.

With a resolute shake of your head you stood up and faced the boys, who each looked at you with pity filled eyes, then you spoke as steadily as you could, “I’m not upset. He hasn’t upset me,” you weren’t fooling anyone, really. Your eyes were bloodshot, your cheeks and nose were red and your voice was slightly hoarse when you spoke. The boys entertained you anyway, nodding in agreement.

“I’m telling you this as his brother and your best mate; you can do better.” Ron told you honestly, he wasn’t lying either, you were the type of girl who could get any boy she wanted without lifting a finger. Well, not any boy—obviously— but that wasn’t anything to do with you. Ron had his suspicions in regards to why his brother acted like such a knob towards you, however he’d been thrown off his scent recently when the older ginger stopped being mean to you teasingly in favour of being just plain mean.

You gave Ron the best smile you could muster at his words, “You are absolutely right, Ronald.”

Harry snorted before making his way over to Ron’s trunk, he rifled through it for a few seconds before pulling out one of Ron’s jumpers. He casually tossed, what you recognised to be Ron’s Christmas jumper from Molly, over to you with a grin, “Put that on. I got muck all over you.”

You had plenty of your own Christmas jumpers made by Molly Weasley but they were all the way over in your own dorm. Besides, you liked stealing the ones made for the boys as they were usually far too big for you which made them extremely comfortable to wear.

So you happily pulled the maroon jumper over your head, the wool effectively covering your dirtied t-shirt.

“Oh yes, by all means, you two just work away.” Ron grunted sarcastically. In all honesty, he didn’t care if you stole every piece of fabric he owned, if it made you feel better, he couldn’t care less.

“Right,” you said, making your way to the door of the dorm room, “I think I’ll go for a walk before the sunsets, calm myself down a bit.”

The boys nodded, “See you at dinner?” Ron asked and you gave him a smile and a small nod of confirmation before you set off out of the Gryffindor common room.

Thankfully, you didn’t run into George on your way out. You walked peacefully through the gardens and behind the greenhouses, it was around five in the evening and the sun was beginning to stoop low behind the tree line. The days were beginning to take on a chill as October approached quickly, you’d gone out without grabbing a jacket and you couldn’t deny that you were beginning to feel the cold nipping at your skin despite Ron’s jumper. Pulling the sleeves further down your wrists you carried on, trudging forward through the fallen leaves of the garden, you weren’t ready to go back inside yet. Going back to the castle meant you’d have to look your problem in the face, literally. You settled on the fact that you’d rather endure the physical cold rather than the emotional coldness you were sure to receive from George at dinner.

When you’d reached the back of the third greenhouse you could faintly hear someone humming to themselves and a soft smile found your lips when you saw who it was. Neville sat on a chair in the greenhouse, right by a plant that you hadn’t a clue what it was called, seemingly humming the little tune for the plant in question. Despite his undeniable clumsiness, there was something about Neville Longbottom that soothed you greatly. He has a good soul and his heart is usually in the right place, even if his head is sometimes screwed on slightly loose.

Gently, trying not to startle him you knocked on the closed door of the greenhouse before you opened it and walked in, “Hi, Neville. Mind if I join you?”

Neville blushed slightly but nodded his head, “Course! There’s a spare chair just there,” he pointed nervously to the chair. Once you settled yourself beside him, he let himself relax slightly.

“What sort of plant is this?” You asked him curiously. You really liked plants but you weren’t the best at keeping them alive, Neville though, seemed to be something of a green thumb.

He beamed at your question and quickly began to explain everything about the plant before you. You didn’t absorb a lot of it but listening to Neville speak so freely, something he rarely got to do amidst the other Gryffindor boys, filled you with a sense of serenity. Between his voice and the light wind that blew against the glass building, you’d completely forgotten about your red-headed problem.

“—sorry, I’m probably boring you. My nan says I have a tendency to ramble.” He cut himself off, cheeks heating up as he rubbed the back of his neck bashfully.

With a small giggle you only shook your head at the brown haired boy, “You’re not boring me at all! I quite like listening to you speak,” you admitted although you felt a bit silly after saying it out loud. Neville seemed to grow even more flustered after the words left your lips.

His eyes searched your face for any sign that you were teasing him, but all he saw was your kind eyes and comforting smile. Not exactly sure about what to say to you, Neville made an observation, “You’re cold.”

You gave him a nonchalant shrug, “I’m okay.”

Completely unsatisfied with your answer, Neville shook his head in protest and shrugged off his jacket. He was used to spending a lot of time in the garden so he was usually sporting far more layers than necessary, just in case. “Here, wear this. You’ll catch a cold otherwise,” he fretted and you didn’t have the heart to turn his offer down, you didn’t want to turn it down either, you were absolutely freezing. Gratefully you accepted the jacket and wasted no time in pulling it on.

“Thank you, Neville,” he looked you over for a moment, you could tell he was debating with himself on whether or not to speak, after a long few seconds of his eyes running over you he spoke.

“You look nice- I, uh, the jacket. You look nice in the jacket- I mean, the jacket looks nice on you-“ another giggle left your lips and effectively put the boy’s fumbled ramble to an end.

“Again, thank you, Neville. You are unbelievably kind.” You told him sincerely, quite enjoying the blush that adorned his cheeks.

“We should probably head back to the castle for dinner now. It’s gotten dark,” Neville said, standing up after giving his plant a loving pat.

The walk back to the castle with Neville was nice. The pair of you chatted idly about school subjects and house drama, but you had to admit, you weren’t paying a huge amount of attention to the conversation.

“Thanks again for lending me your jacket,” you said sweetly, shrugging the jacket off as you reached the main hall of the castle.

Neville, who seemed to be in a perpetual state of bashfulness, took the jacket back gently, a rosy blush painting his features, “It was no problem, really.”

Neville had always been incredibly kindhearted, sometimes to his own detriment. He treated people with respect and never turned anyone away if they needed help with anything at all. He is sweet, honest, loyal and, whether you liked him or not, he is indisputably adorable. And you found yourself thinking about how entirely better your life would be if your heart had chosen Neville to have a romantic fondness towards.

After separating from Neville, you made your way towards the Great Hall. On your way you bumped into Fred Weasley, who surprisingly, wasn’t accompanied by his twin. He greeted you with a wide smile and, as he always did, he ruffled your hair.

“So! I have a proposition for you,” the look on his face as he spoke was nothing short of wicked, a pit of nerves began to form in your stomach with the way his eyes were lit up excitedly.

“What are you proposing?” You encouraged exhaustedly. Whatever it was would probably end with you running from Filch.

Fred lopped his long arm around your shoulder, effectively pulling you along with him as he walked in the opposite direction of the Great Hall. Any chance of you getting fed this evening had gone out the window the second Fred clapped eyes on you, you’d made your peace with it. “I’m glad you asked, princess- “ at the sound of the pet name you let out a guttural groan.

“Freddie, please, I’m not in the mood to help you make some poor girl jealous just so you can get a snog,” you whined weakly only for the boy to ruffle your hair and tug you closer to his side.

“Let me finish! As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted,” he paused to glare at you jokingly and you smiled apologetically, “I have a plan to make George stop acting like a prat.”

A disbelieving scoff left your lips, “Yeah that’s likely,” Fred laughed and pinched your cheek lightly before carrying on.

“Angelina told me that she heard you crying in the girls toilets the other night,” he informed you. Your eyes widened in shock and confusion, you didn’t think anyone was in there with you and you also couldn’t piece together what your moment of weakness had to do with Fred’s master plan. “And before you start, I know it’s because of George.”

“That’s ridiculous, Fred.” You lied, unconvincingly.

Fred laughed again, it was a gentle laugh that let you know he hadn’t come here to tease you but to help you, “I know it’s ridiculous and that’s exactly why I know you’ve been so down in the dumps the last few days.”

“Besides,” he started again when you remained silent, “Why else would Ron be giving his brother the silent treatment?”

“What does any of this have to do with your plan?” You asked, eyes sad and heart heavy for the second time that day. You’d only just managed to get the whole thing out of your mind, and yet, here it was again.

“Well I happen to know why George acts the way he does,” you met him with a raised eyebrow and a bored expression.

“Because he hates me, I know.” Fred’s lips grew into a wicked grin and he shook his head, coming to a stop in the middle of the hallway.

“That’s where you’re wrong. He doesn’t hate you,” he lowered his lips to hover right by your ear before he whispered quietly, “He loves you.”

With a roll of your eyes, you pushed the boy away, fixing him with a hard stare, “Come on, Fred. That’s not funny.”

“I’m not joking!” He exclaimed desperately, “We were in potions making amortentia, yeah? And Slughorn called George up to tell the class what he smelled and do you know what he said?” Fred retold madly, knowing full well that this was possibly the only opening he’d get to make the two of you realise your own feelings. Fred was well aware that you developed a crush on George, he picked up on it the second you began looking crestfallen when hit with a snide remark from his twin. He knew long before now that George had loving feelings towards you too, but their recent potions class was the only hard evidence he had to support his theory.

You shrugged helplessly in response, and Fred grabbed your shoulders and looked down at you urgently, “He said it smelled of cloudberries, daisies and-this is a direct quote-‘summer breezes’,” you stared at him numbly, not exactly sure what to say as the description did match the perfume you’d been wearing regularly since you were thirteen.

“That’s you, Y/n!” Fred confirmed and you pulled your lips between your teeth before shaking your head in complete denial.

“Lots of girls wear that perfume-“ Fred cut you off, ruthlessly.

“Name one.” You racked your brain but you genuinely couldn’t name another person who wore the same perfume as you. “You can’t, can you? Because it’s your smell!”

“Ok fine! So it’s my smell, what exactly do you expect me to do with this information?” Fred rolled his eyes in exhaustion at you.

“Blimey, you’re as daft as he is sometimes, do you know that?” Fred ran his hands down his face in exasperation before looking at you softly, “I except you to come with me so we can drive him mental for a bit and if he gets nasty I’ll embarrass him because I’m an incredible brother.”

You let him lead you towards Gryffindor Tower all while complaining about how you were starving only for Fred to hush you each time you let out a hungered whine, “We can raid the kitchen later on, love,” he promised and you sighed in defeat, “That’s the spirit.”

When the pair of you entered the Gryffindor common room, George was already there, probably waiting for Fred to return it. He sat one one of the sofas that faced the fire, completely relaxed and you hated the fact that you thought he looked amazingly ethereal with the way the flames from the fire lit his skin in an orange glow.

He hadn’t noticed you yet and Fred took notice of this. The older twin subtly slid his hand into yours and intertwined your fingers with his before turning his head and shooting you a mischievous wink. Fred Weasley was a nightmare, but when he was on your side, he never failed to make you smile.

Accepting that whatever Fred was about to drag you into would result in nothing but chaos you took a deep breath and followed Fred over to the sofa.

“What is she doing here?” George practically seethed, despite the intensity of his glare, you didn’t miss the nervous look he shot in Fred’s direction. What you had missed, though, was how harshly he’d clenched his jaw upon noticing your intertwined hands.

You decided that tonight you’d play the game slightly differently, if what Fred was saying was true, it would make things all the more entertaining. So, instead of your usual menacing glare and ego-shattering insult you met George with an innocent smile, “Was just hanging out with Freddie, thought I’d come say hello,” you said, sitting in the middle of the two twins.

George stared at you suspiciously, “Hello. That all?”

“Hi. No, actually, I think I’ll sit with you for a while. If that’s okay?” Fred was smirking from his spot beside you as he watched George’s face contort.

“You’ve never wanted to sit with me before.” He told you, squinting his eyes and trying to decipher what you were up to. He couldn’t lie to himself, he definitely wouldn’t mind you staying so close to him for a while, however he’d also sooner die then let you think you had the upper hand.

His and your composure cracked simultaneously at your next sentence, your truthful and somewhat vulnerable mumble of, “Well, you’ve never given me a chance to.” He knew you were right so he didn’t say anymore, opting to shift his gaze to the roaring fire, trying his best not to let his mind linger on the fact that you were wearing his brother’s jumper. His nose perked up at the scent that drifted from your spot, unusually close to him. There was no doubt in his mind that he’d fancied you for a long time, but, there was also no denying that he’d done a perfect job of making you hate him. Yet, as much as he wanted to just cut the crap, tell you that he thinks you’re the most insufferably beautiful girl he’d ever seen and kiss you and never ever stop, his pride would never allow him to cave. Especially not when you challenged him so effortlessly.

“So how come you were headed to dinner so late anyway?” Fred piqued up, growing tired of the lack of hostility between yourself and his twin.

“Oh. I was sort of worked up earlier so I decided to go for a walk ‘round the greenhouses. I bumped into Neville and I suppose I just lost track of time,” you explained halfheartedly.

Fred let yet another smirk overtake his face, “Longbottom, eh?” He wiggled his eyebrows and you let out a short giggle while shaking your head, sure, it would’ve been a good topic to tease George with, however, Neville was simply too sweet to be used as a pawn.

“Don’t get me wrong, he’s very sweet. But he’s just a friend,” George looked almost satisfied with that answer, his usual scowl making an appearance once again.

“He could do better.” It was a barefaced lie. Neville couldn’t do better than you. In fact, George was of the firm belief that nobody could do better than you.

“Of course he could, he’s quite the charmer,” you spoke wistfully, finally giving Fred the show he’d been hoping for, as you egged George on.

George pretended to think for a moment, “I’m sure he is. Personally I think you’d be more suited to Filch, although, I’ve heard his standards are quite high.”

You took the boy by surprise when you laughed, the airy giggle left your mouth had such a profound effect on George that he almost wished he’d kept his mouth shut. His heart was leaping and there were butterflies beginning to form in his stomach, he physically had to will himself not to stare at you in awe when your eyes turned to meet his. The glow of the fire only aided in showing him how gorgeous those stupid eyes of yours are. “Mmm, yeah I suppose I should lower my expectations,” you paused briefly and mimicked George’s earlier motion of pretending to mull over your options. Your next action had Fred practically howling with laughter.

“You’re available, aren’t you Georgie?” You’d asked in a mock sultry tone, leaning towards him and lightly brushing your hand down his arm. Loving the way he choked on air you got up from the sofa, not before shooting him a wink, and sauntered towards the portrait hole, “I’ll be in the kitchens. See ya later, sexy.” You directed the last part at George, who looked as though he’d been frozen in time as Fred’s laughter grew in volume.

Upon entering the kitchen, the house elves had fussed around you, handing you food at any given opportunity. You had finished eating a while ago, you were currently nursing a hot cup of tea while chatting away to one of the house elves, only to be interrupted by someone else entering the kitchen.

He set his sights on you and quickly moved to the seat across from you, a look of urgency on his face that reminded you of Fred, “Whatever he told you. It’s not true,” you raised an eyebrow, sipping your tea uncaringly.

“Mind elaborating?” You asked tiredly.

“Fred.”

“Thank you, George, very clear and helpful,” you grumbled sarcastically and the boy let out a huff.

“You were acting different. You know something. What did he tell you?” George demanded through gritted teeth and you only deflated against your chair. It always boggled your mind how everyone described George as the nicer of the twins.

Not answering, you decided to start asking your own questions, “Can I ask you something?”

“Seems like you’re going to no matter what I say,” he sighed out as an elf pottered up to him and handed him a cup full of hot tea. He took it gently and thanked the elf with such sincerity that you wished you hadn’t seen the exchange, simply because it stung to know he’d never treat you with that level of sincerity.

“Why do you hate me so much?” He sat frozen for a second. Your tone of voice took him by surprise. It was needy bordering on desperate, nothing like he’d ever heard you speak before, not to him anyway.

George took a sip of his tea and shrugged as if the question was a stupid one, “I don’t.” A cold, humourless laugh came from you in response, the kind of laugh that made his stomach drop.

“Bollox. I’m being serious, George. Tell me what it is about me that makes me so insufferable to you!” You exclaimed, heart rate increasing and tone raising in octaves as you felt yourself growing more upset by his reserved expression.

George let out a heavy sigh, the jig was about to be up. You were upset and merlin was he tired of pretending that he didn’t want you in every way, shape and form.

“Do you really want to know?”

“Yes.” There was no trace of hesitance or uncertainty in your voice, at this point you didn’t care what the answer was you just had to know.

“Fine,” he said all too casually and you knew by his tone that he, as per usual, wasn’t taking you seriously. “I don’t hate you. The only insufferable thing about you is how annoyingly gorgeous-“ you cut him off right then, with a scoff of pure disbelief.

Shaking your head rapidly, you stood from your chair and all but stormed out of the kitchen. His footsteps began to echoed behind you a few corridors later, he would’ve caught up to you sooner had your response to his would be confession not left him completely immobile. He called your name but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t stop. Tears stung your eyes and you absolutely refused to let him know that he’d managed to bring you to the point of tears. Not that it was the first time.

“Bloody hell, Y/n! Hold on would you?” He called, finally getting close enough to reach out and grab your wrist. He spun you around to face him and quickly placed his hands on your upper arms to stop you from doing another runner. When he took you in he swore he’d never hate himself more than he did the moment he looked at you to see your eyes filled with tears, small drops escaping and carving a trail down your cheeks while you sniffed miserably.

“What?” You snapped, hostility the only thing you felt like offering the ginger in the moment. His brown eyes bored into yours with so much intensity but they held something you didn’t recognise. They looked sad, almost.

“I wasn’t making fun of you.” He stated honestly but you furrowed your eyebrows, your eyes set in a glare.

“Then what were you doing?” You croaked, letting your tears fall freely as the damage was already done. The sinking of your stomach and the tightening of your chest didn’t do a thing to ease your mind as George’s hands squeezed your arms.

He licked his lips quickly, he felt they’d become unbearably dry, and then slowly, he let his hands trail down your arms and took your smaller hands into his own. He hoped you were feeling the same electricity he was when he touched you.

“I’ve been a prick to you. You didn’t deserve it and I’m sorry.” He sounded sincere, but you second guessed him. For all you knew it was just some elaborate prank, Fred was probably in on it too.

When your gaze didn’t soften, he continued to speak, “So I understand why you wouldn’t believe me when I tell you that I don’t hate you. But I just-“ he cut himself off with a heavy sigh.

“You just what?” You squeaked when his eyes spent a moment too long observing your lips. You hardly had time to register the feeling of his hands leaving yours before they were cupping your cheeks instead. “What’re you doing?” You wondered, completely dazed by the way he stared at you. His warm hands holding your face causing your stomach to jolt in an entirely different sensation than before. As much as you wanted to push him away and tell him to shove his apology, you couldn’t help but take him in. His lips were parted ever so slightly and his cheeks were flushed, probably from chasing you through the castle, his hair was disheveled and merlin he looked like he wanted to kiss you.

Your question floated in the air, completely unanswered. Next thing you knew his lips were on yours. He kissed you as if you were oxygen and he’d just been drowning and you couldn’t help but move your lips harmonically against his too. Your hands clutched his wrists as he continued to cradle your cheeks. In all honesty you weren’t sure at what point he’d backed you against the wall, or at what point his tongue had entered your mouth or when exactly his hands had migrated to your hips, yours now tangled in his hair. His body was pressed flush against yours and the small groans he’d let out when you tugged at his hair or ran your tongue against his made you realise that you couldn’t care less if this was one big prank or joke. It was happening and that’s all you cared about.

Even as he reluctantly pulled away, he chased your lips with several shorter kisses before separating entirely. He rested his forehead against yours, his guard completely down now as he admired your swollen lips and heaving chest. The feeling of your fingers in his hair made it nearly impossible for him to keep his lips detached from yours, “You’ve no idea how many times I’ve thought about doing that.”

Your eyes searched his face for any sign that he was lying, when you found none you finally let yourself smile. A similar smile formed on George’s face, “I meant what I said earlier. I really do think you’re annoyingly gorgeous,” the boy silently praised himself when you let out a cute giggle.

“You’re quite cute too. When you’re not running that massive mouth of yours,” you teased although you weren’t really joking, to your surprise George let out a bellowing laugh before placing a fluttering kiss against your lips.

When he pulled away again he looked around the hallway, as if he only now realised where he was. Luckily nobody was wandering the halls since curfew was fast approaching and the unwelcoming cold that occupied the hallways left little reason for students or staff to be out and about. George slid his hand into yours again, this time intertwining your fingers with his. He gave you a hopeful glance and asked, “Do you wanna go somewhere?”

You nodded your head and let him tug you into one of the abandoned astronomy classrooms on the upper floor of the castle, Filch rarely ever patrolled up there which is why George decided on it. As well as that, since the classroom, which had been out of use for a good few years, had been used for astronomy the ceiling was bewitched to reflect the night sky.

George hadn’t come to this particular class in a while but thinking on his feet he remembered the cupboard at the back of the classroom used to hold blankets, he remembered when the classroom had been in use during his first year, students would be all but freezing during the winter, so they’d stocked the classroom with blankets to be brought out during the colder months.

He made his way over to the cupboard and grinned happily when his hand landed on a rather large woollen blanket. The material was scratchy but it would do for what he needed it for. He grabbed one more blanket from the dusty press before he made his way back over to you.

George suppressed a chuckle as he watched you, your face completely turned up, watching the stars on the ceiling with awe in your eyes. He busied himself with laying the wool blanket out on the bare floor, the room was devoid of tables and chairs so he didn’t have to worry about finding a space. Once he was finished, he plopped down on the blanket and expectantly patted the empty space beside him, “Come on then, sit down,” he urged and you finally tore your eyes away from the charmed ceiling.

A small laugh left your lips when you settled yourself down beside him, he wasted no time in covering the pair of you in the second blanket. With an exaggerated sigh he laid back and waited for you to do the same, he turned on his side to face you when you did. In contrast to earlier, George had an air of nervousness about him as he deftly took your hand and began playing with your fingers, not meeting your eyes. “Just out of curiosity,” he began quietly, making eye contact with you now, “What exactly did Fred tell you?”

His question forced a somewhat smug smirk to crawl onto your lips and you couldn’t help but take the opportunity to tease him. You leaned up on your elbows and twisted slightly so you could look down at him, trying not to waste too much time admiring the view, you answered him, “Oh, nothing really. Your lovely twin just happened to mention that you had a very eventful potions class the other day…” you trailed off, biting back a smile as he groaned.

“Mhm and what was it that he said you smelled from the amortentia?” You poked his cheek and he closed his eyes, a tiny smile growing on his face despite his blushing cheeks. “Cloudberries…oh! And daisies, now, what was the other thing? Let me think-“ you pretended to ponder before George cut you off by pulling you down on him and pressing his lips to yours in a kiss much softer than any of the others.

“Summer breezes,” he whispered against your lips before connecting them again, “It smelled like you,” and with that his hand snaked to the nape of your neck as he pressed his lips against yours, pouring all of his feelings into it, hoping it was enough. In all honesty, now that he’d felt what it was like to love you, he didn’t think he’d ever be able to go back to pretending to hate you.

Once he pulled away you were completely breathless, however, George seemed to have more to say. “I don’t want us to go back to the way we were,” absentmindedly you brushed his hair out of his eyes, stroking the red strands soothingly as he continued to confide in you, his voice, face and body completely vulnerable to you. Something about him trusting you with his feelings reassured you that his intentions were pure and banished any notion you possessed of the whole thing being a joke, “I didn’t like it, acting like that but you were always so unbothered that I felt like I had keep one upping you,” he confessed.

“You always gave me this feeling in my stomach whenever you’d come over to the Burrow with your parents when we were little and I didn’t understand it. I just thought that it must’ve meant I didn’t like you…” George seemed to get lost in his own mind as he gazed at you regretfully, his fingers trailed the length of your spine sofly, “By the time I realised, we were both older and I suppose I just thought you couldn’t feel the same ‘cause I made you hate me,” you hummed in acknowledgment, your fingers still working his hair, keeping it out of his eyes that looked at you so intently that you could’ve drowned in them and died happy.

“But then the other night after dinner Angie slapped me upside the head and talked my ear off about how out of order I’d been—obviously I agree with her! You weren’t even talking to me but Neville was complimenting you and I don’t know… just got possessive,” he muttered the last part, losing some confidence but regained it upon seeing the little smile on your lips. “Then Ron looked about ready to push me off the astronomy tower when I saw him this evening. Blimey, I knew it had to have something to do with you since Harry was snippy too.” You had to laugh at the exhausted look on his face when he recalled your two best friends.

Mockingly, you gave him a stern look and clicked your tongue, “Well, perhaps if you weren’t so mean to me all of this could’ve been avoided,” George groaned once again, feeling guilty he pulled you even closer and buried his face in your neck.

“M’sorry,” you carded your fingers through his hair, pressing a soft kiss to his head. Your lips against his head caused him to lift his face from the crook of your neck, “Forgive me?” He asked, a cute pout on his lips.

“I’ll think about it,” you teased, giggling at the offended look on his face. George let out a dissatisfied sigh, he pushed a strand of hair behind your ear before giving you a toothy smile.

“Don’t worry, love. I plan on making it up to you.”

#george weasley x reader #george weasley #harry potter x reader #fred weasley x reader #ron weasley x reader #neville longbottom x reader #weasley twins x reader

[nerdyfangirl67]

With a Little Help From the Team - NCIS Reader Insert

Pairing: Tim McGee x fem!reader, Gibbs x daughter!reader (brief/vague)

Word count: 2717

Warnings: this was a pretty fluffy piece! (not gonna lie), mild language, reader is Gibbs’ daughter

Request: @ncisfan​ “Hello! I saw your post from this morning saying you didn’t have any requests for ncis at the moment and I wanted to make a request. If for some reason you don’t want to write it that’s okay but here’s my prompt,(Idk what to call it) The reader and McGee have been dating for years and McGee has to tell the whole team (Tony, McGee, Bishop, Gibbs. That team please!) including her dad (Gibbs, cause why not?) when he wants to propose. You can decide on if they say yes or no but I hope you’ll write it. Sorry if I’m overwhelming you I just wanted to make a request”

A/N: I know I’ve told you this @ncisfan​ , but I absolutely love this idea! And a McGee x reader? Yes please! I did put this in both McGee’s and the reader’s point of view and changed it up a bit. (Yeah, I got super involved in this one and it got longer than I thought…and took far longer than I thought) I hope you enjoy it darling!!

Tim stands in the bullpen, nervously trying to find the right words to tell the team about you, the team of which just so happened to include the one man capable of making him feel like a young schoolboy still wet behind the ears, especially since that one man had a lot to do with what Tim was about to say.

Tim takes a deep breath to gather his last bit of courage and confidence, which promptly fades away the moment he starts talking.

“I uh…well you know that I’ve been seeing, no dating…dating Y/N.” Tim stutters out as his nerves get the better of him, completely fumbling the carefully planned out speech he had come up with prior to meeting with Gibbs.

Gibbs narrows his steely blue eyes as he wordlessly nods his head, telling Tim to continue.

“Things have been going well, really well actually. And I’ve been wanting to, or meaning to…not that I was putting it off, because I wasn’t. That’s the last thing-”

Gibbs cut him off with a “Spit it out McGee.”

“What I’m asking is for your permission, no..that’s not - I want to propose to her.” He was speaking so fast, his words were nearly running together, his sentences jamming together into one that didn’t make much sense.

Gibbs doesn’t say anything at first. Instead, he continues to stare at Tim, looking for any trace of deception in his face. “Why?” He asks gruffly, startling Tim.

“Wh-why?” Tim squeaks out, an uneasy feeling weighing on his chest as he tries to find the right words to answer a question he hadn’t prepared for.

“Yes, McGee. Why? Why do you want to marry my daughter?” Gibbs pauses, still evaluating Tim and his reaction. “Why should I want you to marry my daughter?”

Tim takes a deep breath, a sudden burst of confidence washing over him as he realizes that the answer to such a question was right in front of him. “Because I love her… honestly, I have for a long time, even before we started dating. And, more than anything, I want to spend the rest of my life with her. I want to spend every day that I have left in this life showing her I love her and cherishing her the way she deserves. I can’t imagine my life without her in it.”

Gibbs surprises him then, with a small smile and a hearty clasp to his shoulder. “Alright then, probie. Now all you have to do is tell her that and of course, ask her to marry you.”

Had it been any other girl, McGee might not be struggling as much to find the words. But you weren’t just any girl. You were not only Gibbs' daughter, something that caused him far more fear than he’d ever admit (he was dating the boss’ daughter after all), but you were also close with the other members of the team, which made this whole ordeal all the more nerve wracking.

You had come to know the members of the team through your job as a technical analyst for the Naval Criminal Investigative Service, meaning you spent most of your time hunting down case leads in a cubicle. Then, as you grew better at your job, and closer to Abby (who had had something to do with getting you on Gibbs team, although she’d never admit to it), you had been moved from that cubicle to a desk in Gibbs’ bullpen, unceremoniously joining the team, although not full-time as you still worked with the cyber/tech unit, your father thought so highly of (something he would never admit out loud, even to you).

You eventually became just as close to Abby as your father was, something Abby always attributed to ‘a Gibbs thing’, - “It must be a Gibbs thing because Y/N is just as great as Jethro and we just click.” Many times, if you weren’t working on a case, you could be found hanging out in the lab with Abby.

You and Tony were best friends, spending hours talking about movies and pranking each other. And, despite your “geeky background” of tech analysis, Tony never once teased you (a courtesy Tony had never given him). In fact, he had become something of a big brother to you, filling a role in your life you hadn’t ever thought you’d needed filled.

And then Ziva had joined the team, filling in little by little that hole that had been left after Kate’s death. Even with the high tension existing between Abby and Ziva, you and Ziva had hit it off right away, becoming fast friends. Eventually, despite the perceived oddness of your friendship, you, Abby, and Ziva became an inseparable trio, even occasionally ganging up together against Tony or Gibbs.

Suffice to say, you were important to the team, just as they were to you. And now Tim was faced with telling these people that he not only had been dating you (a relationship the two of you had decided to keep relatively quiet because of your line of work and the fact that you were often times coworkers), but that he was going to ask you to marry him, a proposal of which he was seeking the team’s help with.

“So, uh...I-well, I’ve been seeing, er...dating-” Tim starts, his mind scrambling as he tries to form a coherent sentence.

“McGee, the chickadee is out of the bag. We all know you’re dating Y/N.” Ziva says matter of factly,

“Cat, Ziva, the cat is out of -” Tony starts reflexively, before pausing and turning to Tim and then to Gibbs, his mouth hanging open. “Wait-what? You’re the one Y/N has been dating?” He asks incredulously.

Gibbs takes a step forward, slapping Tony on the back of the head. “Close your mouth DiNozzo.” Tony’s jaw snaps shut at the command.

“Keep talking McGee.” Gibbs says gruffly, his piercing blue eyes settling on Tim.

“I’m going to ask her to marry me.” Tim blurts out.

“We kind of knew that McGee.” Abby states, her lips pulled into a satisfied smirk. “I mean, you haven’t exactly been stealthy about ring shopping. Or buying the ring. Or getting it inscribed.” Abby lists off, earring a few incredulous looks from the other members of the team. “Y/N’s my best friend, okay? I had to make sure the ring was a good one.”

Tony turns to McGee. “McRomeo getting married? Why is this the first I’m hearing about it?” Tony steps forward to give Tim a good-natured shoulder shove. “You like it so you’re putting a ring on it, huh?” He asks with a Cheshire Cat-like grin on his face. Ziva is the one who moves to slap him in the back of the head this time.

“Ow, Ziva. What the hell was that for?” Tony asks, a hand already rubbing the spot Ziva had just smacked on the back of his head.

“When will you ever shut up and let McGee finish?” She questions, giving Tony a pointed glare. He opens his mouth to respond, but a hard look from Gibbs keeps him quiet.

Tim timidly clears his throat before continuing. “I’d like to do it here. And, um...I’d like to do it here, with all of you.” Smiles spread through the group at Tim’s words, several ideas already being blurred out by the more enthusiastic members of the team (it was Abby. Abby was already excitedly sharing ideas with the person sitting next to her, which just so happened to be Gibbs.)

——— You squeeze Tim’s hand before letting go, reaching for the handle to your car door. “See you at work.” You say with a soft smile before turning back towards your car.

“Let’s, um, let’s ride together today, to work I mean.” Tim stammers nervously, a hand on top of your driver’s side door, stopping you from leaving.

“Are you sure? I thought we were trying to keep this, us, quiet.” You ask, stepping away from your car and closer to him. He cups the side of your face with his hand, leaning forward to press a soft, chaste kiss to your lips.

“Just once, okay?” He asks quietly, a sheepish smile on his face.

You let out a small laugh. “Just this one time, alright Agent McGee?” You say with a smile, letting him take your hand and lead you towards his car. He opens the passenger door for you, closing it behind you before getting in the driver’s side. The entire ride into work is marked with Tim either giving you a huge dopey grin or a quick nervous glance, which only serves to make you suspicious, as if the insisting to ride together didn’t already.

Tim pulls into his usual parking spot, shutting off the car before turning to you. “How about we walk in together?” He asks hesitantly, a shy smile accompanying his question.

You quirk an eyebrow up at his question before responding, “Tim, it might make it pretty obvious what’s going on between us if we do that.” “Let’s do it anyway, Y/N.” He reaches over to squeeze your hand before climbing out of the driver’s side of the car and making his way to your side of the car. He opens the passenger door for you, offering you a hand to help you out, which you graciously accept. He continues to hold your hand after you are out of the car and as the two of you walk into the building, only letting go as the two of you go through security.

The two of you are the only ones on the elevator and for the entirety of the short ride, you can almost feel Tim vibrating beside you with some sort of nervous energy. You bring his hand up to your lips, pressing a gentle kiss to it before murmuring, “You okay?” He gives you a tight nod in response just as the elevator dings, announcing its arrival on your floor of the building.

You press a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Have a good day Tim, I love you.” You say, moving towards the open doors of the elevator. Tim reaches a hand out, grasping yours and stopping your exit out of the elevator.

“I, uh, I’ve got to give you something. It’s in my desk drawer, in the...bullpen.” He stammers out, quickly retracting his hand to wipe it against his suit jacket.

“Oh, can I get it at lunch?” You ask, turning back towards the front of the elevator and pressing the button to reopen the doors.

“No.” He shouts, startling you enough that you take a step back away from the sliding doors. “I mean, come with me?”

“What is up with you today Tim?” You demand, his unexplained, unnatural behavior causing your suspicions to rise, a million questions running through your head.

“Just...please.” His voice is thick with emotion, his words coming out barely above a whisper.

You silently nod your head, stepping back into the elevator and allowing the doors to close as you press the button for the floor that the NCIS team resided on. You spare a look over at Tim, whose is rubbing his hands up and down his slacks, his face turned towards the ceiling of the elevator and his lips moving in silent words.

“Tim, what is going on? You’ve been acting weird all morning and I just-” The elevator dings, announcing your arrival on the floor of the bullpen and effectively cutting you off.

Tim puts a hand over the doors, stopping them from closing as he looks at you, his kaleidoscopic eyes pleading with you to understand and to trust him. You give a small nod, taking his outstretched hand in your own and following him to the bullpen.

Right away, you notice the lights over the area of the office you’d come to know as your father’s, as Gibbs’, were off. A flash of fear settles in your chest as you begin to picture all the possible scenarios as to why your father’s part of the office was empty and dark, none of them positive. You start to walk faster, almost pushing past Tim, to get to the bullpen. You suddenly stop short when your eyes fall on Tony’s desk.

Instead of finding your best friend seated at his desk or even finding his desk empty, you see that Tony’s desktop is covered with picture frames. Your curiosity wins out over the rising fear in your chest and you step closer to the desk to inspect the framed photos.

“Oh,” A breath of surprise leaves you as you realize that they were photos of you and of Tim, taken at different times in your relationship. A series of pictures of the two of you from your second date, taken in one of the photo kiosks that you find at the mall. The two of you making goofy faces at each other in the bullpen. You and Tim bent over a computer, faces serious as you both stare at the screen. You turn to Tim’s desk next, finding it filled with vases of flowers in your favorite color.

You move towards them, leaning down to inhale their fragrant scent, your gaze landing on your father’s desk and the photos scattered across the desktop, similar to Tony’s desk, except these were pictures you’d taken of the two of you. One of the pictures from your first trip together, from the date when Tim had told you he loved you, and the first case the two of you had worked on together and a series of selfies you’d taken with Tim at various times; all laid out like a timeline of your relationship.

After a few long moments, you lift your gaze towards Ziva’s desk, curiosity seizing you as you find her desk almost empty. You quickly make your way to the front of the desk, your eyes landing on the single piece of white paper, with only one small paragraph scrawled out in the middle of the page.

Y/N,

I love you and I have something I have wanted to tell you, or rather ask you, for a long time now. I know you’re probably wondering what that question is, so if you’d turn around, I’d like to ask you it.

You slowly turn around, the paper clutched to your chest and your heart racing in your chest as your eyes find Tim’s. He gives you a small, honest smile as he takes a step forward, his hands clasping around yours before he kneels down on one knee in front of you. Your breath catches in your throat as you realize what is happening.

“I’ve loved you for years. First, as a friend, and then as a boyfriend, and now...now I want to love you as your fiance, and eventually as your husband. Would you, Y/N Gibbs, do me the honor of being my wife?” In his hands is a modest red velvet ring box, a platinum band adorned with three small diamonds nestled on the inside of the open box.

A lump forms in your throat and as you try to speak, to say yes, nothing comes out. Instead, you nod your head vigorously and close the distance between the two of you. Tim stands fully just as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in against you. You vaguely register noise in the background, noise you later learn is from the various members of ‘your’ NCIS team, as you feel him kiss your cheek.  

“I love you.” You whisper softly before pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, savoring in the feeling of his lips against yours.

“And I love you.” He gives you a deep kiss in return, leaning in to cup a hand along the back of your neck. After a moment, you pull back enough to smile widely at him, the realization that this man would become your husband, the man that you got to spend the rest of your life with, starts to dawn on you, filling you with elation and excitement, not only for your wedding but for the future you’d had with the man you loved.

Tagging:

@madamsnape921​ @ncisfan​ @thisiscalm-andits-doctor​

#ncis #ncis fandom #ncis fanfic #ncis fanfiction #ncis female reader #ncis female reader insert #ncis reader #ncis reader insert #ncis team x reader #tim #tim mcgee #timothy mcgee #mcgee #tim mcgee x reader #tim mcgee x female reader #tim mcgee x you #mcgee x reader #mcgee x fem!reader #tim mcgee reader insert

[palestinianliberator]

To be Palestinian is exhausting

You will not find a single Palestinian who hasn’t had to endure all of the following and more:

Constantly having to prove our existence

[This is going to be a tremendously long post, but I implore you to read through what you can]

Constantly having to educate everyone around us on our history and people while we continue to be slaughtered

Constantly having to combat Israeli propaganda and dehumanization campaigns against us

Constantly having to combat liberal propaganda from those who simply cannot understand the pain and damage they are doing

Constantly having to defend ourselves from the overwhelming forces that stand in our way, from the Israeli forces to the global institutions that help support it to the structures in the US that mean that any Palestinian who dares speak out risk both their lives and livelihood

Constantly in fear of whether or not you’ll end up on another “list” as a result of daring to speak out

Constantly having to do it all again as soon as we’re back on the news

Constantly having to answer for all other Palestinians in a way that nobody else is expected to

Constantly being seen as the “crazy one” when trying to share your narrative, having to defend against an endless barrage of accusations of antisemitism

Constantly being put into situations by bad-faith actors who attempt to engage in “debate” or “discussion” or “dialogue” with talking points that demean and duhamanize you, all while being expected to maintain a smile and cool composure while someone literally debates to your face your own existence or how “actually it’s YOUR people’s fault you’re being slaughtered! Israel isn’t the bad guy here!”

Constantly being forced to choose between engaging in bad-faith debates framed in a way to make you look like the unreasonable bad guy while the person implicitly defending your ethnic cleansing is made to look like the “rational good guy” or looking after your own mental health, knowing that even refusing these “invitations” is itself a mark against you and your people

Constantly being told that you’re too “biased”, too “close”, too “emotional” about the literal slaughter of your people to be seen as a valid source, while Israelis and complete outsiders are given all the space they want to speak for us endlessly

Constantly seeing people being actively mislead and wondering if you have the capacity to reach out to them and attempt to share your narrative with them, knowing that if you don’t, they’re going to go on to propagate the same lies justifying your ethnic cleansing

Constantly having to combat GENUINE censorship throughout the media, social media, and society itself. It’s a fact proven by former Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and Youtube employees that Palestinian voices have their reach censored in a way no one else does, which is why it’s so important to amplify and actively share Palestinian voices rather than just liking or indicating support

Constantly being told you don’t know your own history by people who’ve educated themselves on Youtube and Wikipedia despite having lived the reality yourself and dedicating your entire life to studying every single aspect of it

Constantly seeing those who have the courage to stand alongside you being shut down with accusations of antisemitism and seeing them lose their courage to stand by you out of fear of their own image and livelihood and having to rush to their defense as well

Constantly having to see photos of your people, sometimes even people you know, maimed, injured, murdered, or burned to ash by Israeli aggression but knowing you have a duty to share what’s happening and must stomach the images to show the world the true extent of the suffering we endure

Constantly having to worry not just for your own safety, but the safety of your family and loved ones who can be punished or targeted because of things you yourself say

Constantly wondering who you can actually trust, from new friends and acquaintances to professors to even other Palestinians because we’ve been so heavily infiltrated by Israeli intelligence looking to blackmail Palestinians using anything from their sexual orientation or even made up “evidence” meant to ruin their lives

Constantly having your heart sink every notification you get wondering if it’s news that a loved one has been killed

Constantly seeing the corpses of loved ones shared on social media and reliving the trauma all over again, yet again knowing that you WANT the world to see what’s happening

Constantly seeing the effects this has on your own family and feeling helpless to do anything

Constantly on alert for the FBI at your door as they often “visit” Palestinians who dare speak out, myself included on numerous occasions 

Constantly wondering if your advocacy for your people is going to result in the loss of your job, scholarship, license

Constantly being asked to “humanize” and “feel for” those who live their lives day in day out completely unfazed by your suffering despite living in a society that couldn’t even FUNCTION without our subjugation

Constantly being told “don’t blame regular Israelis, blame the government!!” as if the state itself wasn’t founded on our ethnic cleansing, as if it isn’t “normal Israelis” who make up the entirety of the Israeli Military and have actively brutalized you and your people

Seeing allies you fought for suddenly SILENT when it’s their time to speak up

Studying on a US campus where those SAME SOLDIERS WHO ENGAGED IN YOUR PERSECUTION AND ACTIVELY SERVED AS THE ENFORCERS OF YOUR OCCUPATION then re-enact the trauma against you and you’re meant to simply ignore the fact that THEY ARE THE SAME PEOPLE WHO MURDERED YOUR FRIENDS AND FAMILY, and not being allowed to even be ANGRY at that

Trying to navigate this half-life in the diaspora where it’s a struggle to connect with other Palestinians given the distance between us and yet not being able to connect with anyone around because, again, they simply can’t understand

Constantly being expected to simply give up your time to those who demand you answer them and debate your existence and narrative with them, who them take you blocking them for your own mental health as a “victory” to be lorded over you when you simply can’t take it anymore

Constantly having to EXPLAIN all of this because nobody but other Palestinians can truly understand just how pervasive, overwhelming, and incapacitating this unique form of exhaustion is

Constantly seeing your erasure and ethnic cleansing defended all over the media, all over social media, throughout your academic career, while those ENGAGED in your ethnic cleansing have the audacity to claim that the media is biased against THEM

Constantly on guard with everything you say and write, knowing that unlike those promoting our ethnic cleansing, we don’t have the luxury of making mistakes or getting lazy in our writing and advocacy. One mistaken source, mistaken information, being imperfect is enough to discredit your voice entirely

The crippling obligation you have to share the narrative of your people, knowing that so many people will view you as the spokesperson of your entire people, knowing how unfair it is, but also knowing that if you DON’T speak out, nobody will on your behalf, and even the most well-intentioned, involved allies can simply never understand how it all truly feels

Seeing the entire world stand by and do absolutely nothing while your people are slaughtered time and time again

Seeing your history misconstrued by people implicitly defending your ethnic cleansing and settler-colonialism

Knowing that our parents have been through this and more, seeing them have to go through this yet again while still being forced to go about their daily lives and given no time to mourn or recover

Not being able to even share our culture without being attacked for it

Knowing that so many of your friends and family won’t ever be able to return to their homeland while foreigners from around the globe are flown into Israel free because it’s their “birthright”

A “birthright” denied to even my own parents, born in Jerusalem yet unable to enter it

Having even self-proclaimed “allies” question Palestinian resistance, policing our tone, never /really/ understanding our pain and anger and how they themselves contribute to it

Screaming from the moment you can about what’s happening to us, desperately trying to get people to CARE, and having it often fall on deaf ears

Knowing that if you’re not the source of information for those genuinely seeking to learn, they may find themselves mislead by sources that claim to be fair and balanced while imprinting subtle lies about Palestine and Palestinians on those they engage with

Not even being able to find the energy and ability to respond to genuine messages of love and support, which are greatly appreciated, and feeling bad about it because you don’t want to seem like you’re not genuinely happy to hear it

Feeling a sense of overwhelming exhaustion in times like this while at the same time being unable to sleep

Seeing the effect all of this has had on your people, knowing your people have among the highest rates of depression on the planet and yet we’re all suffering together with no way to ease the pain

Being constantly exposed to the ways in which your people are erased and questioning if you have the energy or sanity left to deconstruct such aggression to help outsiders understand the severity of it all

Seeing allies suddenly call for “peace” when Palestinians are finally fed up enough to rise up and fight back against an overwhelming military force

I could go on, but in case you it’s not already clear, I’m tired and exhausted

Always wondering if any of this is even worth it when the world has ignored your slaughter and ethnic cleansing for nearly 8 decades, knowing that nobody is about to step in to help now.

Constantly wondering if any of this is even worth it, and then feeling inspired by fellow Palestinians, our resilience, the fact that despite ALL of this and more, we continue to fight.

Despite all of this, I would never even consider or entertain the thought of being born as anything other than Palestinian

#Palestine #Israel #Gaza #I could go on for literal hours or days #There is SO much to our pain and suffering #SO much #But I know that even trying to explain EVERY aspect of it is #itself likely to lead to a diminished audience and serve to perpetuate the very things I mentioned

[funtimebunnyblog]

Sureynot is back at it again with some fun requests 😂🤩🥰 Please enjoy!

The Pillarmen with an s/o who's an adrenaline junkie...

(Under the cut for length...)

Kars:

• Kars seriously disapproves of this hobby of yours.

• Mostly because when he met you he was under the impression that you were smarter than to even attempt half of the things you do for "fun".

• Once he found out that your idea of a good time was riding a bike down a rocky mountain at full speed or dangling from the edge of a cliff from a rope like a spider, he was sure you were crazy.

• Perhaps Humans really have regressed after all...

• Just because he could vault himself off a cliff without a care in the world or thought of bodily harm doesn't mean that you, a fragile little Human, should as well.

• If you insist that you're fine because of all the precautions you take when going out to do something risky, it does little to ease him.

• Initially, he tries to forbid you from going out and doing such dangerous things but you offered for him to come along anytime and supervise; which he ended up accepting.

• He'll admit that he feels a little better when he's at least with you just in case anything happens.

• "Isn't this great?" You laugh, peering back to glance at your mate (whom you were strapped to) as you dangled from the base of the cliff by your abs. "Just look at that view!"

• Kars couldn't be bothered to even try to enjoy the sunset scene far, far below when he was laying parallel in the air like this.

• If you wanted to watch the sunset, why not just stand upright ON the cliff?

• "When do we get to the fun part?" He sighed, his underlying bitterness only making you laugh. "This IS the fun part!"

• Should you happen to hurt yourself on any of your solo excursions you can at least always count on him to patch you up when you get Home.

• Showing up with a few scrapes and bruises here and there doesn't bother him very much but if you ever end up breaking a bone, prepare for a scolding of a lifetime.

• He will not let you do anything even close to risky until you are fully healed and from that moment on he makes it clear that he's accompanying you on ALL of your trips and supervising the scene.

• It's kind of funny, in a way he has fallen right into your trap; spending more quality time with you rather than staying cooped up in his office doing work all the time.

Esidisi:

• It takes Esidisi as a surprise when he finds out about your little hobbies.

• He never realized that doing such risky, heart palpatiating stunts was considered enjoyable to some Humans.

• His curiosity piqued, you'll find yourself dragging him along to one of your most favourite activities so he can watch and maybe try his hand at it.

• You've created a monster.

• An adrenaline pumped, 7ft tall, inhuman, older than dirt monster.

• He LOVES this sport. The sights, heights, the high-speed action, the spine tingling, the rushing going to his head; HE LOVES IT.

• It all puts a much hotter fire burning in his blood.

• Soon, he starts dragging YOU along to watch HIM do extremely risky activities and stunts.

• Like watching him bungee jump off the tallest building in the country while chugging 2 energy drinks at the same time as he records the whole thing for YouTube.

• Despite his newfound love for the most extreme of extreme, he's also content to just spend some time doing simpler risky activities like white-water rafting or rock climbing with you.

• If he ever gets injured (no matter how bad) it doesn't bother him in the slightest of course.

• However, if you get seriously hurt on the other hand, it sends all kinds of alarm bells off for him.

• He thinks that maybe he's to blame and that he's been a bad influence on you and your mortality.

• "IT'S MY FAULT!!! IT'S ALL MY FAULT!!!" Esidisi sobbed loud enough that his voice rang off the Hospital walls. Endless rivulets of hot tears left your shirt absolutely soaked where he clung to you like a limplet in the bed.

• You could only sigh, your gaze peering past the dense curls of the floof of his hair blocking your vision to your propped up leg and the clean white cast that had just been put on it.

• "Esidisi, this is NOT your fault." You told him, hands instinctively going to rub his back as the tears kept coming and coming. "I should've checked the tire on my bike before driving it down that hillside, it was just an accident. It's just a broken leg."

• (*bike crash* Fred voice: MY LEG!!!)

• Thankfully, his tears ebb when you tell him that he can sign your cast.

• He might even offer to take you across the world to sight see and do some more thrilling activities to make up for it when you're all healed if you're up for the adventure.

Wamuu:

• All of this started when Wamuu noticed that you had a bunch of strange gear in storage.

• When he asked you why you needed so many helmets and ropes and knee and elbow pads, you happily indulged him about your adrenaline seeking hobbies and how you liked to jump off cliffs.

• You definitely have some more explaining to do.

• Admittedly it takes Wamuu a good few minutes to wrap his head around it all.

• "So... you do all of these dangerous things... for a thrill?" He questioned, eyebrows knitted together. "To prove yourself?"

• As you nodded, grinning hugely, he realizes that he shares a similar trait by fighting worthy opponents in the arena.

• The most brutal, sweat inducing, heart pounding fights gave him great tenacity and you experienced the very same when climbing somewhere high or going fast.

• He wants to try this with you.

• Next thing he knows he's all geared up with a helmet and a harness and a rope, standing at the bottom of a HUGE Rockwall.

• "First one to the top wins," was all you said before starting to climb as fast as you could with the Warrior right behind you, a fierce gleam in his eye and a fang revealing grin.

• Though keeping mindful of your safety, he likes to challenge you and both of you find yourselves often pushing each other's limits.

• Who could climb the fastest? Row the fastest? Bike the fastest? Set up camp the fastest?

• If you happen to hurt yourself while playing your thrill little games together he's always prepared and will most definitely put a bandage on you when needed.

• Even Wamuu knows that the Hello Kitty ones heal the best.

• If you're ever unfortunate enough to do yourself enough damage to break something, that care shown for you doesn't change.

• In fact, he commends you for being so strong and will praise you even more when you talk about jumping right back into it when you're properly healed again.

• He won't let you go anywhere until that day comes though, no matter how up to the challenge you think you are.

• All in all, your determination and your fiery spirit is what makes him absolutely adore you afterall.

Santana:

• Like many things he faces, Santana is quite indifferent to heart-stopping stunts.

• It was no surprise really, he was an apex lifeform; there was nothing that could do him harm and he had faced many dangerous things in his life alone so there wasn't much that got his heart pounding.

• However his curiosity is piqued when he learns that you deliberately partook in risky activities just for the fun of it all.

• Be prepared for many questions as to what exactly you enjoyed doing and the benefit of doing it for you.

• If you should ask him to accompany you on an activity, he won't say no but he prefers to observe you rather than partake himself.

• He views every outing with you as a learning experience.

• He gets to learn all about the activity, its History and any gear you happen to bring along and then watch the ins and outs of it all first hand as you and maybe a few other Humans do it.

• He finds it interesting that Humans would take such risks when they are already the most fragile and flawed race in existence.

• He wasn't sure whether it was carelessness or maybe just plain not realizing your own mortality.

• If you happen to coax him into actually gearing up and doing an activity with you, don't expect any major reaction on his part when you get there.

• Whether it's skydiving, rock-climbing, white water rafting, poking a sleeping bear with a stick, you name it; you can't quite piece together what's going on in that head of his.

• He just looks almost bored the entirety of the time.

• "YEAHHHHH!!!" You squealed with glee, the air whistling in your ears as wind all around you whipped and whirled, plummeting straight from the sky.

• Santana was dead silent, arms folded and practically glaring at the ground where it sat miles upon miles away below you both.

• The only thing he was looking forward to after the parachute chord was pulled and his feet was on solid ground again was going to grab a bite to eat...

• However, while the activity doesn't, any injuries you happen to sustain from doing them spark a reaction in Santana.

• He doesn't like seeing you hurt, no matter how minor it is.

• That being said, the chances of you getting seriously hurt are very, very low with Santana always on watch while you're off having fun.

• If he has to, he'll throw himself under you and let his body go to rubber to give you a soft landing and prevent you from breaking something.

• All in all, he doesn't really mind your extreme hobbies. You alone give him a thrill by teaching him much new things.

#funnybunny #pillarmen #kars #esidisi #wamuu #santana #kars x reader #esidisi x reader #wamuu x reader #santana x reader #my writing

[lovelyspencers]

Both Sides Like Chanel

“I see both sides like chanel,

see on both sides like chanel.”

Synopsis: Spencer and fem!Reader have been dating for a while now and there is something that Spencer hasn’t trusted anyone else with that he wants to share with her

Content Warning: mentions of drug addiction, allusions to sex, brief mention of internalized homophobia

Word Count: 3.3k

A/N: this is my first fanfiction and I’m not entirely sure how tumblr works yet but it is my mission to do something about the lack of bi!Spencer representation

Compared to his colleagues and friends, Spencer was a fairly private person. He liked to keep things to himself because his life centered around repetitious disappointments. So, he was content that his private life was not set on a stage, his misery displayed for everyone to see.

But then he fell in love with you the minute you walked into the bullpen and bumped into him, leaving your belongings all scattered on the marble floor. Spencer was never one for touch but when he took your hand to sweep you off the ground, butterflies filled his stomach like the air on a humid summer’s day.

After a few years of friendship, his adoration for you grew as easily as ivy on an abandoned house and it was on New Year’s Day that the team celebrated in Rossi’s mansion that his slightly intoxicated self decided that he was not able to hold it in any longer.

You had sneaked off to Rossi’s backyard after Garcia had gotten a bit of too affectionate and randomly started kissing everyone.

Both of you were slightly buzzed, your head laid in his lap as he explained the constellations to you. He wished that the sky above you was the only thing that filled his mind, but when he looked at you with your skin slightly flustered from the alcohol and your lips pursed as in deep thought, all that he could think about was how much he wanted to kiss you.

It wasn’t the first time, the thought floated around in his mind. It had been so crucial in fact that the thought of your lips softly pressed on his played in his head like a film reel every night, unable to give him the sweet escape of sleep.

So, when the blank sky was filled with multicolored fireworks, the moonlight illuminated the complexion of your face and cheers erupted from the silence surrounding you without a second thought, he leaned in to kiss you.

You tasted like champagne and the strawberry lipstick you obsessively put on whenever you got anxious and to Spencer, he felt as if he had found the missing puzzle piece he’d been seeking for all his life.

And then like they always did, his thoughts began rushing through his mind like cars during rush hour and he instantly pulled back.

You were gonna hate him and then he would lose the only person he trusted with all his being and maybe you’d tell Penelope and everyone would laugh at him for believing that someone as amazing as you would ever-

But before his poisonous thoughts got the best of him, you grabbed the sides of his face and connected your lips with his again, filling the entirety of his body with pure bliss.

“I’ve been waiting so long for you to do that.” Your voice vibrated against his lips and he couldn’t help the smile that graced his face in the process.

The two of you could have kissed for only seconds or even hours because as he finally experienced what it felt like to be utterly yours, none of the things surrounding you mattered to him in the slightest.

All that mattered was that his biggest dream of your heart belonging to him entirely finally came true and he had no intention to ever let it go.

But even the most perfect moments couldn’t last forever and in this case, it was disturbed in the figment of the people the two of you considered family.

At first, you both didn't notice the footsteps on the grass, too caught up in trying to pour every stolen glance and hidden adoration in the simplicity of a kiss.

It wasn’t until cheers filled the silence around you that you hesitantly broke apart and were greeted with the sight of the team who all had smirks plastered on their faces.

To his delight, you didn’t entirely pull away from him like he thought you would instead you got off his lap to lazily wrap your arms around his torso. Subconsciously he pressed a kiss to your temple erupting even more amusement from the people watching you.

“About damn time.” Emily was the first to break out of her trance. Soon, congratulations were shared and the team tried to discreetly exchange money since they seemed to have some kind of bet going on. Even Hotch had a rare smile on his face and it was without a doubt the most beautiful start in the new year he could have ever wished for.

“I love you,” you muttered as you hid your face in his chest, and though there was no way the team could have heard what you told him, the smile on his face told them everything they needed to know.

“I love you too.”

He wished more than anything else that your love story could have ended that way and you lived happily ever after but this wasn’t a movie and the truth was that relationships were work. Work he was more than willing to put effort in but work nonetheless.

You loved each other dearly but you weren’t perfect and neither was he. Most of your fights revolved around his fear of vulnerability and even though he spent years building a wall around his heart so no one could ever shatter it again, he loved you far more than his self preservation so he tried his hardest.

And there was one particular thing, he always wanted to tell you or anyone who he felt earned his trust.

Throughout his life, his trust had been broken many times. So without even realizing it, there was a barrier between the two of you that prevented him from loving you to the fullest and he hated it.

But unlike Derek who immediately spread his problems around like it was just some gossip printed on the sixth page or JJ who kept Emily’s well-being to herself despite him coming to cry to her for months, you never betrayed his trust.

Even more so, you didn’t have that look of pity in your eyes that was equally as painful as daggers in his chest when he told you about his drug addiction or the schizophrenia of his mother.

You were easily the person on earth that he trusted the most but that didn’t mean that there weren’t some things that he still kept to himself.

But as he said, he wanted to change that and if one person was deserving of his honesty and vulnerability it was you.

Spencer had told you about his father leaving, the horrors he had to face that still haunted him in his dreams, his kidnapping from Tobias Hankel, and the cruelty of a childhood as a child prodigy.

While what he wanted to tell you wasn’t nearly as heavy it still felt like dead weight continuing to weigh him down.

Every time, he came close to telling you the truth, he got scared like a child in the dark and switched topics to something that didn’t matter at all.

Spencer also knew that you were aware that something was off. Before you started dating ten months ago, you had been best friends for years so he can positively say that you know him better than anybody else.

But today he had a plan.

You had been wanting to watch ‘Love, Simon’ with him for weeks and he had tried to avoid it for obvious reason but today he’d watch it with you and maybe then he’d gain the courage to talk to you.

He was aware of how illogical his fears were, after all, you had always been open about your bisexuality and had seen you beat up homophobes on various occasions (while Hotch hated it, it was on the long list of things that Spencer loved about you).

But he feared that maybe you wouldn’t want to be with someone who liked men and women or maybe that just didn’t fit with the type of man you were looking for or maybe-

Nope, he wasn’t doing this to himself. You were the kindest, most open hearted and loving person he knew and he had told you far more break up worthy thing than his sexuality.

When he had told you about his past drug addiction, you pulled up the sleeves of his shirt and kissed the fainting scars there and helped him get rid of the small stack of Dilaudid that he had kept hidden in his closet without any sign of judgment.

When he had told you about his mother, you pulled his head on your lap and started playing with his hair until the tears on his face dried and pinky promised him that you would stay with him even if he inhabited his mother’s illness because there was nothing that you would ever let drive a wedge between the two of you.

When he had told you about his childhood and confided in you for the relentless bullying he had to endure after you had found an invitation to a high school reunion in his mailbox, you had peppered him with kisses the entire night and showered him with compliments and love.

Not to mention that you convinced him to go to the high school reunion where everyone seemed equally as impressed by the beauty that his girlfriend possessed and the nature of his job. And every time, you sensed that he was uncomfortable you held his hand and wordlessly pulled him away, because you simply understood him like that.

The first night you slept over, he was more anxious over you sleeping next to him than the actual act of having sex with you (which said a lot because in a moment of desperation he had even asked Derek for sex advice) because he knew that the nightmares would jolt him awake again.

But it was so easy to be with you and when he pulled your body into his and showed you just how much he loved you in the most intimate act there was, all worries (and crappy advice that Derek had given him) left his mind and were quickly replaced by pure bliss and escasty.

And when he woke up shaking because some monsters don’t stay hidden in the dark, you were right there to comfort him until he was able to safely fall asleep with your arms wrapped around his waist.

Spencer was jolted back to reality when there was a knock on his door and he immediately wrapped you in a bone crushing hug before pouring all his worries and love into a kiss.

“We literally saw each other at work today. Did you really miss me that much already?” Your laughter that had become Spencer’s favorite sound ever since the first time he heard it filled the room, and he had to fight the urge to drop his plans and just worship you and your body for the entirety of the evening instead.

No, he was a man on a mission and he had repressed this conversation for way too long.

“I always miss you.”

And it was true, embarrassingly so. When you were on a case, Hotch decided against giving the two of you a shared hotel room, and every time, he had to fall asleep without your body heat next to him he felt as if there was some part of himself missing.

You gave him a peck on the cheek before you intertwined your fingers with Spencer’s and lead him to his couch where you rather ungracefully plumped down.

He joined you and your head immediately landed on his lap as a silent invitation for him to play with your hair which he happily obliged to.

“Can we watch ‘Love, Simon’ today?”

“Yes! I’ve only been begging you to watch it for years,” you laughed while grabbing the hand that wasn’t massaging your temple and holding it in yours.

He laughed too but it was filled with anxiety and you heard it because of course you did. Others might no be able to make out when he was uncomfortable but you always knew when to press him and when to leave him alone.

“We don’t have to watch that movie if you really don’t want to, babe,” you said as you propped yourself up to sit next to him again, all while never letting go of his hand.

“It’s not that. I just-”

Well, it’s now or never.

“I’m bisexual,” he blurted out, surprising himself with the sudden statement, and when he hesitantly locked eyes with yours there was none of the judgment or disgust he feared.

There was just love and understanding like there always was.

You were just about to say something before he gave you a look that clearly signaled to just let him talk for a bit and you answered the silent request with a soft smile and a gentle squeeze on his hand.

“I don’t know, I just used to have this crush on a boy when I was younger and I was confused because I only ever saw heterosexual couples, you know?” You nodded and that reassuring smile on your face never seemed to falter even a little bit, you looked almost proud of him.

“And then I got older and I started liking women too and I was even more confused because like who exactly do I like now?”

Sometimes during meetings in the briefing room or on the jet, you randomly held hands and squeezed them three time as a reminder that you loved each other without having to actually say it and that’s what you did during the brief amount of silence.

“When I was in high school liking boys was always associated with something bad so I just assumed that it was bad and tried my hardest to just suppress it.”

Spencer squeezed your hand three times too and took a deep breath. Seemed that even a genius like him could miscalculate and in this case it was the toll this secret had on him.

“But then I got older and realized that there was nothing wrong with being attracted to the same sex, and so I kind of accepted it even though I still had no idea what my sexuality was. It was just one of those I’ll deal with it later type of things.”

When he looked into your eyes again, you looked at him with so much tenderness that he felt as if his heart might burst out of his chest, even if that was biologically impossible.

“I had a boyfriend when I was in college, his name was Ethan and I loved him but it just didn’t work out. I never told anyone because I was afraid I think?”

He remembered the time of sneaking around and lying to his mother when she spotted a hickey on his neck during one of her visits, the frustration because all he wanted was to show the world the love they shared like every other ordinary couple.

But he also remembered the clandestine meetings, muttered I love you’s that were for no one else to hear and the feeling of falling in love for the first time.

“And then I was confused again because I still liked women too and then I met you and I fell in love with you the second I laid eyes on you honestly and then I thought that maybe it was just like a non-sexual thing but I am sexually attracted to you, I mean we have sex. I like having sex with you!”

You chuckled but it was not out of malice or disgust it was just there, floating in the air filling his body with a warmth that not even his thickest sweater could provide.

“Baby, breathe. It’s just me.”

You brought his knuckles up to your mouth to press a kiss to each of them and that simple gesture managed to calm Spencer’s nerve immensely.

“You were so open with your sexuality and I guess it just kind of made sense? And I know that some women have problems with men who like men and maybe you’re disgusted with me because I used to be with a man and I’m like not the manliest man and and sometimes I think about painting my nails because it seems kind of fun and-”

The thing about Spencer’s rambling was that he couldn’t stop. He wanted to especially when he saw the annoyance on everyone’s faces but you were always there to listen to him, even if you had no idea what he was talking about but as you felt his anxiety worsen with every word that left his lips, you interrupted him for the first time ever.

“I’m not disgusted at all. I love and accept everything about you and that includes your sexuality. Thank you for being open with me, I know hard that can be with for you. I’m very proud of you.”

You emphasized your statement by pulling him in for a kiss and that was the first time that Spencer noticed that he was crying, but you kissed him with all the tenderness in the world, wordlessly wiping away the tear that rolled down his cheek.

“You’re the most perfect man I know. I don’t care if you’re not the most manliest man to me you’re perfect and the love of my life,” you whispered against his lips and Spencer could only reply by deepening the kiss and trying to get you as close to him as humanly possible.

There was no rush or expectations, you were kissing as if you had every time in the world and the kiss was a silent promise that you still loved him no matter what.

And for the first time in what felt like ages, Spencer could finally breathe. Silence filled the room but it wasn’t uncomfortable by any means. You had placed Spencer’s head on your chest and played with his hair while occasionally peppering him with kisses, only a few reassurances and I love you’s accompanying the stirring DVD player.

“Did you mean what you said about wanting to paint your nails?” you asked after a few minutes passed and Spencer had wrapped his arms around your waist as if you were the anchor to a sinking ship.

Spencer chuckled not even remembering what he said during his ramble. “I guess so. Why?”

The thought did cross his mind from time to time, especially when he saw your impressive collection of various nail polish. He never cared much about other’s perception of his masculinity and Spencer realized that his fair of not being manly enough for you was nothing but utterly stupid.

“Do you want me to do it?”

He shyly nodded and a smile filled your face as you took his hand to examine it, probably debating in your head which colour would fit him most.

And as you left the room to search for the most beautiful purple you could find, Spencer sat in the living room, happiness spreading through every fiber of his being because for the first time he knew what it felt like to be unconditionally loved.

Both of you weren’t perfect but there were no more secrets left lurking in the shadows and he knew that as long as you wanted him, he’d always be yours.

You were the first person to truly accept and love him. All of him, and he never wanted to lose that.

As he sat in the living room, you sitting on his lap and looked at your fingers as you painted his in a dark shade of purple, he decided that it wouldn’t be long until the most beautiful ring he could find would adorn your ring finger.

#spencer reid fluff #spencer reid #my writing #mgg fic #mgg #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid drabbles #spencer reid one shots #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #bisexual spencer reid

[restlessfandoming]

"you, my enemy" (chilumi oneshot)

Lumine must assassinate the cruel king of Snezhnaya, Ajax.

//

i could see this being turned into a full fledged fic? but for now, here is the dollar store version LOL

[Masterlist] [AO3 Link]

"you, my enemy"

“I want you to kill the king of Snezhnaya.”

Lumine’s eyes flickered to her client. “King Ajax?”

“There is only one, is there not?” the hooded man responded.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You must have the wrong person,” she said. “I do run-of-the-mill jobs. I don’t murder kings.”

“I was told you were the only mercenary who could do it.”

Lumine slid out of the bar booth. “Find someone else who is insane enough to do that. I value my life.”

The man’s arm shot out, grabbing Lumine by the wrist. She would have sliced it clean off, had the man not taken off his hood.

He had an unmistakable hue of scarlet red hair, with equally fiery eyes to match.

“You’re Diluc,” Lumine said. “The son of the slain King Ragvindr.” It’s never a good idea to get involved with royals.

His face wavered at the mention of his father. “And who was the one who murdered him?”

“King Ajax,” she answered. “That sounds like your own quest for vengeance. Not mine.”

Diluc pulled her closer. “Magic,” he whispered.

Lumine’s blood ran cold. “Magic?” she echoed hollowly.

“I’ve been trying to find the right person to do this for a long time,” he told her. “I had to do my research.”

“What does magic have to do with this?” Lumine asked, trying to keep her voice even.

“You use magic,” Diluc stated. “That’s how you’ve completed every single one of your assignments perfectly.”

Magic had been banished long ago, a witch hunt massacring any and all magic users within the land of Teyvat. Each of the seven kingdoms had decreed it, agreeing that those with magic were too powerful—a threat to the people, all people.

Ever since, the rare few born with magical powers were forced to hide away their abilities for survival. I thought Aether and I hid it well enough.

“You do this, I won’t report you to the authorities,” Diluc continued.

“What about you?” Lumine hissed. “You’re supposed to be dead with the rest of your family.” She shook off his grip. “If I report you to King Ajax, there’s no doubt I’d get a hefty reward, more than you could ever give me for murdering him.”

He pursed his lips into a thin line. “If there’s any suspicion of a magic user, what sort of action do the authorities take?”

You’re killed on the spot—no questions asked. The kingdoms didn’t want to run any risk of magic users rising up, no matter how small of a threat.

“We would be executed at the same time,” Diluc said lowly.

Shit.

Lumine sat back down in the booth, sinking into the seat, gnawing on the side of her cheek. Then, she took a deep breath in.

“You’ll give me every single piece of Mora you have,” she demanded.

Diluc’s face visibly relaxed. “Of course.” He crossed his arms. “The hidden vaults of my family are all yours: every single jewel, Mora, artifact—when you complete the job.”

Lumine’s mouth nearly watered at the prospect of all the riches.

No, she wasn’t greedy. That amount of Mora meant she and her twin brother Aether could retire from this life, this life of scraping by with the money they made from bloody bounties and assassinations. It was the only job they could do, being abandoned as children, having to learn to fend for themselves.

This one job meant she and Aether could have quiet peace until the end of their days.

She held out her hand to Diluc.

“You have a deal.”

* * *

When Lumine arrives in Snezhnaya, she expects impoverished villages, famished citizens, and cold, desecrated lands—all while this merciless, vile king sat on his throne of bones and riches.

However, what she finds are bustling streets of business and cheerful citizens. Children played freely on the streets. The kingdom was thriving.

Is this king truly as evil as the stories say?

It hadn’t been long since King Ajax had begun his crusade of conquering the entirety of Teyvat. It had started with his brutal assassination of his own ruler at the time, the slaying of the late Tsaritsa, quickly followed by his claim to the throne. Then, he had taken over the small country of Mondstadt, and Liyue fell shortly after.

Any who opposed him would face the sharp end of a blade. The stories of him on the battlefield were whispers of blood soaked garments and a wicked smile as he slaughtered soldier after soldier with no remorse.

The image of this bloodthirsty monster faded as Lumine watched these citizens move around care free, as if they were unaware of the atrocities laying under their feet committed by their dear King Ajax.

Glancing up, she could see the distant looming monument, the grandiose castle of the king, looking over the land with a watchful stone eye.

She listened intently to the conversations around her, seeking any information about this Ajax, about how to get close enough to do her job.

She always wanted the most covert way, and now even more so. This was very much her highest profile case, and if she wasn’t careful, she could potentially start wars, with her murder being the first blood.

Perhaps the best way was to become some nondescript maid, someone’s whose presence and subsequent disappearance wouldn’t be questioned by any of the king’s allies. Perhaps as a chef? She could easily poison his food and silently slip away.

How she wished Aether was here with her. He was much more a strategist than she. Unfortunately, he had taken on a different job, far away in Inazuma. They would not see each other until both of their assignments were completed.

Lumine sighed, moving down the street, in search of a bar. Drunk bastards were always the best source of information: they didn’t know how to shut their mouths. In a bar, there were no figures too suspicious, and if there were, they would quickly be forgotten within a few pints of ale.

She pushed past vendors, until she was stopped by a brunette woman in a lavender robe.

“You are not from here,” she said with a breathy smile.

Singled out already? “I’ve only just recently moved here,” Lumine lied.

“Oh? For what reasons?” the woman pressed, her long eyelashes batting as she assessed Lumine head to toe. “Work?”

“No.” What was this woman’s motive? “I’ve heard Snezhnaya is a great country to live in.”

A content, pitched sigh. “Well, since you’ve just moved here, why don’t you come work for me? Outsiders earn a pretty penny.”

Lumine stared at her. “Who are you?”

The woman smiled. “I am Ying’er. I’m in charge of a local performance troupe.” She stepped closer, and Lumine could smell her flowery perfume. “I would love to have you join us.”

“No, thank you,” Lumine told her, inching away. Sounds like a cheap cover for a brothel. “I’m not in need of a job right now.”

Ying’er pouted, but stepped back. “Alright then, sweetie.” She leaned on the doorway of her shop. “I’ll be right here if you decide to come back,” she finished with a wink.

Lumine gave a curt nod before slinking away, back to her search for a bar. She pulled the hood of her cape over her head, sticking to the shadowed walls on her walk. Do I really stick out that much here?

In the distance, she heard the subtle pounding of a drum, and watched, astonished, as the crowded streets parted straight down the middle. An eerie silence filled the previously buzzing plaza. Something was coming.

All the citizens had their heads bowed—Lumine quickly followed suit.

The booming of the drums came closer, and she heard the thunderous marching of armored boots layered into the sound. She glanced up.

There was an entourage of armored soldiers, an assortment of glistening weapons at their sides, escorting a decorated golden carriage.

King Ajax.

What was this? Was there some sort of special occasion taking place?

Much easier to find than expected.

The carriage rolled past. Lumine strained to look at the window while still keeping her head bowed.

Unfortunately, the window was curtained, a velvety red cloth obscuring any view of the king. Lumine wrinkled her nose in disappointment; she had wanted to see what she was up against.

The terrifying rumors of King Ajax never told of what he looked like. Lumine imagined a beastly figure, one with dark shaggy hair and sharp teeth, bones all jutting out in the wrong directions, filleted with raw scars all over.

The carriage continued to move past.

Could she do it? Could she use her magic to take him out right now? There certainly was a large number of people around, and all of them would be suspects; all the easier for her to get away.

However, the guards could easily murder everyone in the plaza if a perpetrator wasn’t found. And, as Ying’er so blatantly pointed out, Lumine didn’t exactly fit in with the Snezhayan citizens.

She would just have to wait. Wait for a better opportunity. Wait to learn more about King Ajax. Wait to plan the best way to kill him.

There was a rustle of murmurs as the citizens returned to their activities, the royal carriage and its guards wheeling out of sight—the air more tense than before.

Taking in a deep breath, she resumed her search.

I need a drink.

* * *

Lumine sat in the corner booth as always, the seat in the bar that could overlook the entire establishment, the place where she could easily see who entered and exited the building.

She sipped at her mug of ale: not enough to become inebriated, but just enough to take some of her stress away. She still listened intently for any utterances about King Ajax.

She kept her eye on a man who was chugging pint after pint of alcohol, complaining about his job, his kids, his wife.

Maybe he’ll complain about his king as well.

“God, I miss Mondstadt,” the man sighed.

Lumine raised a brow. Someone from the conquered land of Mondstadt? He should definitely harbor some resentment for King Ajax.

“Careful there,” the bartender muttered. “The king will have your tongue if you speak ill of him.”

The drunkard scoffed. “The king ain’t here, is he? Too busy with his parties and parades to ever come to a hole-in-the-wall bar.”

The bartender shrugged, silently wiping a glass.

“C’mon,” the man continued. “You don’t think it’s weird how he always invites those performers to the castle? What a dramatic man.” A hiccup. “You think he beds all of them?”

“Probably. Lots of women would want to sleep with the king”

“See, King Ragvindr never did things like that.” He laid his head on the counter. “A modest man. Genuinely cared about his people.”

“King Ajax cares for us. He provides—he’s made Snezhnaya wealthier than ever.”

“Hmph. Is that why he murders people in cold blood? Remember that man that got executed in the street for not bowing to him?”

“Just listen to him, and you’ll be fine.”

Lumine slid out of her booth, making her way to the exit, to a certain brunette woman with a lavender robe.

He likes performers.

A plan started to bubble in her mind as she walked the streets to Ying’er’s shop.

She would slip into the castle with the performance troupe. She would feign illness, seemingly leaving early, when in actuality, she would hide until all the guests had left. King Ajax would retire for the night, alone—and that’s when she would strike.

Lumine smiled, just a bit, confidence coming to her now that she knew what to do.

Her and Aether’s life of freedom felt like a breath away.

* * *

“You’ve certainly improved quite a lot,” Ying’er said, sauntering into Lumine’s quarters.

Lumine set her lyre down. “Guess I’m a quick learner.”

It had been a few weeks since Lumine had arrived in Snezhnaya, and became one of Ying’er performers. She had decided to learn an instrument—the lyre—while staying with Ying’er and the rest of the performers at the hostess’ establishment. She preferred it over becoming a poet or dancer.

Ying’er was right: many people came to watch Lumine sit prettily on stage and play her lyre—her face painted with make-up, and her body adorned with beautiful robes and gowns.

All the while, Lumine anxiously awaited the king’s invitation to their performance troupe. He had invited different groups all over town, though not Ying’er’s yet.

Was this plan a failure? Where was that damned man’s invitation—

“Is that what I think it is?” Lumine asked, eyeing the embellished envelope in her boss’ hand.

Ying’er hummed in affirmation. “The king has finally invited our group to perform at a party tonight.”

Finally. “What an honor,” Lumine said with a smile.

“Very much so.” Ying’er put her hand under Lumine’s chin, examining her face. “Yes...I will have you dressed in our best garments and make-up.”

The woman smiled. “After all, you are our pretty little star.”

* * *

The carriage ride to the castle was filled with the girls’ giggles and whispers, how they wished for the king to whisk them away into a life of riches and royalty, to be his beloved first wife. Lumine kept a hand pressed against her leg—ensuring the dagger hidden under her heavy robes wouldn’t fall out.

She didn’t like to get messy with such a close ranged weapon—she would usually just use her magic from a distance—but she wasn’t going to take a chance if something were to go awry.

As they neared the castle, everyone burst into gasps, admiring the massive stone structure. The excitement doubled as the dozens of other carriages came into view as well.

This is going to be one very extravagant party.

Before she knew it, Lumine was sitting in the great hall, along with the rest of the party goers, awaiting the king’s arrival. She saw the empty throne at the very front of the room, raised on a marble platform, his rightful place above his subjects.

A fanfare of brass instruments blared. The king is here.

The room collectively stood, bowing their heads as the king’s personal guards filed in. Lumine quirked her head to look for King Ajax.

Oh.

The king was not a hideous looking beast at all.

In fact, he was quite the opposite.

He walked in, tall stature carrying an air of importance (and arrogance) on his shoulders with a billowing crimson red cloak, a broad grin plastered on his face. He was young, exactly around Lumine’s age.

He had reddish-brown hair framing his face, locks that glittered like gold in the light of the room, and his eyes were like vortexes—deep whirlpools of the bluest ocean water. All his features were sharp, upturned, like a cunning fox waiting contently to trap its prey.

She watched as he made his way up to his throne, a sickening anxiety spreading through her limbs.

Lumine had never killed anyone so close in age to her—it had always been older men and women. And, of course, she had never found herself attracted to her target.

“Please,” the king spoke, still grinning. “Have a seat.” As he sat on his throne, the rest of the room sat as well.

Lumine swallowed the lump in her throat. His voice was light, playful even.

Was that truly the murderous king of Snezhnaya?

“A toast, to you, my people,” he said, raising a golden goblet. “Let the festivities begin.”

Lumine gulped down her own glass of wine, then shook her head.

I’m here for a job. Not romance.

The room filled with chatter, and Ying’er motioned to Lumine and the rest of the musicians to the corner where they would be performing their music for the night.

Lumine gathered her lyre, shuffling towards her spot in her heavily layered robes. Her mouth was set in a taut line.

A momentary lapse in judgement.

As she played the first few notes, her eyes flickered to the king, who was busy greeting various nobles at his throne. She narrowed her eyes at him, at that sly, sly smile on his face.

It won’t happen again.

* * *

The night seemed to drag on forever. After what seemed like an eternity of playing music for the room—as other patrons ate and danced and conversed—the musicians were finally taking a break.

Lumine delightfully chewed through expensive meats and breads as various actors, dancers, and poets took the floor in front of King Ajax to present their pieces.

The king seemed to be entertained, joining on some of the performances himself.

That drunkard from the bar was right. King Ajax was quite dramatic, inserting himself into the spotlight whenever he so pleased. How pretentious.

The crowd clapped and cheered as another performance was brought to an end, an air of boisterous chatter resuming. Lumine swallowed her last piece of food, making her way to Ying’er.

Time to get started.

“Ying’er,” Lumine called to her boss, clenching her side. “I feel a bit sick.”

The brunette woman raised a brow. “You were looking quite well before.”

“Yes, it was very sudden,” Lumine responded, turning to the exit. “I think I will just head back now.”

“So soon, dear? We haven’t even introduced ourselves to the king yet.”

Lumine was already on her way out. “I’ll see you back at the shop.”

She slipped past the guards patrolling the halls, ducking into the nearest empty room, a storage closet of sorts. Perfect.

She hiked her long robes up, unsheathing her dagger, cutting away at the garments. Sorry, Ying’er. But I can’t fight in this. She threw the discarded fabric in a dark corner, where they would be forgotten about.

She slid the knife back into its sheath, and cracked the door open the tiniest bit—enough to watch the entrance into the great hall.

Now, all she had to do was wait.

* * *

Lumine would have fallen asleep had it not been for the two guards who stopped to converse right outside her door. Within a matter of seconds, Lumine had gone from sleepily nodding off to firmly clenching her weapon in her hand, nerves buzzing on high alert.

“That party dragged on forever,” one of the guards said. “I don’t know how King Ajax does it. Isn’t he exhausted every night?”

“Not sure. He seems to enjoy it.”

“He’s been gone a while now. Should we check on him?”

Lumine tightened her grasp on her dagger. He was gone?

“No. He likes to be alone at night. He’ll kill you if you interrupt him.”

“Oh...Should we just go to the other side of the castle then? So we don’t...interrupt him?”

“...Sounds like a good idea.”

The sound of their footsteps faded, and Lumine dared a peek out the door to scope out the hallway.

There were no other guards, and the boisterous sounds of the party were long gone.

Lumine slid out of the closet, sneaking down the hall, starting her search for King Ajax.

Sounds like he’s still here somewhere. Alone.

This job was getting easier and easier.

Too easy.

* * *

Please be in this room.

There was a great stone door before her, one she had come to after a mind-numbingly exhaustive search through the entirety of the large castle. She pushed on the door, as slowly and as quietly as possible, then looked in.

She nearly cried out in relief.

Sitting in the middle of the room was King Ajax, his back turned to her.

He was completely silent, unmoving, in this empty stone room. Was he asleep? No, it looked more like meditation.

Lumine slinked in, silently, conjuring the elemental energy of the wind in the room.

She would take every bit of air out of his body. Quick, quiet, no mess. It was the method she had always used.

She closed her eyes to focus, feeling the pull of air from his lungs.

He was going to die, and she was going to be free, free with her brother—

WHOOSH!

Lumine opened her eyes just in time to see Ajax rush towards her.

His hand wrapped around her throat, and he slammed her into the ground. All of the breath in her body hissed out of her, and she clawed at his hand.

“Who are you?” he growled.

She stopped prying at his hold, quickly yanking out her dagger, and slashing at his face.

He dodged, forcing him to loosen his grip on her.

She slashed again at his hand, throwing herself away from him as he recoiled in pain. She rubbed at her neck, gasping for breath. The king was looking at the gash across his fingers.

Shitshitshit.

Lumine quickly focused her energy on the earth below, trying to create shackles out of stone to hold him in place, or to just bury him alive.

The ropes of earth sprang out of the ground. His eyes flickered to the coils as they rushed for him.

Yes!

But then a swirling mass of water appeared, engulfing him, destroying the chains in the process.

What—?!

A sharp stream of water shot out from the bubble, coiling around Lumine before she could react. She was pulled to the ground, bound, and unable to move.

The bubble of water dissipated, and Ajax stepped out, eyes ablaze. He approached Lumine.

“Who are you?” he asked again, less angry, more inquisitive.

She strained against the chains of water, her elemental energy unable to rid them. She locked eyes with him. “You’re a magic user.”

He squatted next to her. “You are too,” he responded, the smallest ghost of a smile on his lips. He took her dagger into his hands, weighing it. “Now, why were you trying to kill me?”

Lumine bit her cheek. No, she couldn’t sell Diluc out; he could still get Aether killed.

“That’s how you conquered Mondstadt and Liyue so easily. You used magic,” she pushed, ignoring his question. “That’s forbidden.”

He barked out a laugh, wiping his bloodied hand on her robes. “And yet, here we are, two magic users in one room.” He pointed the dagger at Lumine’s neck. “Tell me why you were trying to kill me, before I make it only one. I won’t ask again.”

“You’re going to kill me anyway,” Lumine said. “I’m a magic user. That threatens your power, doesn’t it?”

Ajax studied her for a second, pulling the dagger back, just a bit. “True.” He tilted his head. “But I’ve never actually met another magic user before.”

She averted his intense gaze. “So what are you going to do? Keep me alive and experiment on me?”

“No.” He stood. “How about this...in exchange for sparing your life, you become my student.”

…

What?

“You mean learn magic from you?” Lumine glared at him. “How do you know I won’t kill you in the future?”

“You won’t,” he said. “This murder attempt? Wasn’t personal—you tried to kill me from a distance. Someone must have sent you.” He closed his eyes, squeezing the hilt of the dagger. After some shaking, it disintegrated into dust.

“Also, you can’t kill me,” he continued, opening his eyes. “You’re severely untrained. You saw how easily I subdued you.” A small smile. “All the more reason to learn from me.”

Maybe this was the gods taking mercy on Lumine. Ajax didn’t kill her right away; she had a chance to live, to get back home to Aether.

“What’s in it for you? This only seems to benefit me,” she said to Ajax.

He hummed, thinking. “A potentially powerful weapon,” he responded, eyes glinting.

Maybe, once she learned more magic, she could overtake him, and complete her job.

She locked eyes with him.

“You have a deal.”

The ghost of those words burned bitter on her tongue.

* * *

Lumine nearly died the next morning.

“You did what?!” she gasped out, after deathly choking on a part of her breakfast.

She was currently sitting across from Ajax in his elegant dining room, who had just informed her that he had announced their marriage.

He leaned back in his chair. “A random new woman living in the king’s castle? Bound to raise many rumors,” he said, nonchalant. “This way, there are no rumors, and we can train without being questioned.”

Lumine worried her lip. He has a point.

“I don’t—We don’t have to...do anything in public, do we?” she asked.

“No.” He smirked. “Unless you want to, pretty girl.”

She grimaced. “No, thank you.” Here for a job, not romance, she reminded herself, no matter how handsome this cocky bastard is. Not to mention, she still planned to kill him.

And so, Lumine’s days were filled with training, pretending to the servants and maids she was King Ajax’s fiancée. She was trapped, as Ajax reminded her many times that if she tried to leave, he would swiftly execute her.

She learned more about him, as much as she didn’t want to. She saw that he did really care for his people, and provided for them as best he could—though he wasn’t above using his power to strike down those in his way, whether it was an enemy or a citizen who simply disrespected his reign.

And that was ultimately what he wanted: power. To have power over everyone in the land of Teyvat. He had endless ambition—Lumine could credit him that much.

Some days, she caught herself imagining it as well: a world she could rule over, have everyone bend to her will, set the laws so people like her and Aether could live without fear, and be provided for. In some ways, she could relate to Ajax’s desires. In some ways, she could justify his methods.

It very much disgusted her, at first. But then, it was liberating. To have someone who could understand the darker sides to her being, understand the blood on her hands.

Even Aether could never fully understand her. How part of her was always glad to be given magical powers to defend herself and those she cared about. How part of her enjoyed her current situation.

After all, she was living lavishly, compared to the impoverished life she had before. She had every meal provided for, luxuriously, and a soft bed to lay in every night. No threat of the authorities finding out about her powers and murdering her.

Could she perhaps bring Aether here?

Ajax had spared her—was it too much of a stretch to believe he would spare her twin as well?

If Aether could be brought here, she wouldn’t have to kill Ajax. She wouldn’t have to kill perhaps the only person in Teyvat that knew who she truly was.

* * *

“If you found another magic user,” she asked Ajax over dinner, “would you train them as well?”

Ajax took a sip of wine from his goblet. “No.”

“...No?”

A small smile, a slight flash of his canines. “I can’t have my weapons outnumbering me, now can I?”

Lumine’s mouth went dry. “If you won’t train them...what would you do with them?”

“Kill them.” He set the cup down. “They would be a threat.”

“I’m not a threat?”

Ajax barked out a laugh. “No, Lumine. No, you are not.”

Ah.

So she and Aether couldn’t be together here. Aether was still in danger of being outed by Diluc.

“Why?” Ajax questioned. “Are you lonely here?”

“I’m trapped in your castle. What do you think?”

He rested his head on his hand. “My bed is open at night, if you’d like.”

Lumine drove her knife through her food. “You’re insufferable.”

“Oh, Lumine, it’s just banter,” he said, chuckling. “You don’t think we’re friends? I quite like your company.”

She pursed her lips, staying silent.

“You don’t have to lie to me.” Ajax stared right at her. “I see you while we train. You like it here. You like becoming more and more powerful.”

He leaned over the table. “You and I are very similar.” He smiled. “There’s a hunger in your eyes. You want exactly what I have.”

Lumine stood abruptly. “We are nothing alike,” she spat uselessly. He sees right through me.

“I told you, you don’t have to lie to me,” Ajax responded, sitting back in his chair. “We are already married. We could rule together—as partners.”

...What?

“I thought I was your weapon.” Her knuckles were white from clutching the edge of the table.

“Partner if you so choose.” His blue eyes narrowed slightly. “Weapon if not.”

What game is he playing? “There has to be some sort of catch.” He was essentially offering her his power as king, even if it was just partially.

“No catch,” he said. “Like I said, if you refuse, you’ll just continue your little life of entrapment, as my weapon.”

“One of these options is obviously better than the other.”

Ajax laughed, genuinely, his expression softening, just a bit. “I guess one is.”

She gave him a look, quizzical, before swiftly leaving the room, his proposal still hanging in the night.

As the guards escorted her back to her room, she played the conversation over and over again in her mind.

Would it be so bad? Would it be so bad as King Ajax’s consort, his companion through his crusade of Teyvat?

He was right: part of her deep down ached for that kind of power.

But joining Ajax meant sacrificing her dear brother.

The aching desire hissed, Is that a sacrifice you are going to make?

* * *

The castle’s stone floors were freezing on Lumine’s feet as she traversed through the halls barefoot. No shoes meant no sound. No sound meant she could surprise the guards, getting the upper hand to take them out. Already, there was a trail of dead guards behind her as she passed through the corridors, the air stripped from their lungs.

Her sheer white nightgown fluttered around her as she dashed about, and in the dim moonlight waning through the windows, she thought herself a ghost, an angel of death. She was on a path she could not stop.

She knew exactly where he was. After spending so many days trapped here, of course she knew where the king’s quarters were.

She knew him like clockwork: what days he would stay up in his study, what days he would retire to his chambers and when. She knew where his guards were, when they would switch patrols, when their protection would be the weakest.

And when it came time, she stood outside of his door, wavering on the spot slightly.

She shook her head, trying the door. Locked.

Taking a breath in, she rapped her knuckles on the hardwood.

She heard rustling beyond the heavy oak door, her heartbeat picking up. She would have to get in there quick, before he looked behind her and saw his guards missing.

The door swung open, a flash of anger on Ajax’s face until he saw who it was.

He gave her a closed-eye smile. “Ah, Lumine, to what do I owe the pleasure—”

Lumine stood on the tips of her toes, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, pulling him in for a kiss.

She could feel him go rigid under her touch. She walked him backwards, further into the room, closing the door behind her with her foot.

As the door shut, he broke away from her. “Are you accepting my proposal?” he whispered, his hands clutched around her arms.

Lumine nodded, going for another kiss, arms slinking around his shoulders. This time, he melted into her touch, pulling until he was under her on his bed.

He fell for it.

Pity crept into her heart. From the way he breathed her in, the way he held her in his arms, there was a softness she had never seen from him.

He loved her.

She was his weapon, and now, his greatest weakness.

“I’m sorry,” she said against his lips.

His eyes opened, those ocean eyes on her as she pulled the air from his lungs with ease.

You shouldn’t have trained me.

His hand reached for her throat, but went to his own as he gasped and choked.

She wrapped her own hands around his, pressing down. She slammed her eyes shut. She didn’t want to see his face.

He thrashed wildly, and she repeated I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’msorryimsorry over and over again until he went still under her.

…

…

...

She opened her eyes, the world blurry around her. She wiped away the tears pooling in her vision, and looked down at Ajax.

He was unmoving, eyes glazed over, arms limp at his side.

Lumine reached for his throat, hand shaking, fingers checking for a pulse.

He’s dead.

She scrambled off of him, crumbling into a ball on the floor.

I killed him.

Her breathing was uneven—she was the one gasping for breath now as uncontrollable sobs racked through her body.

I am so sorry, Ajax.

* * *

“Lumi?”

Lumine turned to see Aether looking at her with worry.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

A breeze rustled by. Lumine turned back to look over green fields that stretched as far as she could see.

“I’m okay,” she responded.

“Okay,” he repeated. He smiled a bit, pulling an envelope from his pocket. “Diluc’s hawk came this morning. He sends warm wishes to us both.”

After the assassination of King Ajax, Lumine decreed Snezhnaya a freed country, a country with no ruler, and returned the lands of Mondstadt and Liyue back to their rightful heirs. Diluc, now the restored king of Mondstadt, gave Lumine and Aether the riches he promised, and a home deep in the countryside for the peaceful life they so desperately wanted.

But sometimes Lumine had nightmares of Ajax.

She would be sitting next to him, on their thrones as the King and Queen of Snezhnaya. Sometimes, little princes and princesses of theirs would be running around as well.

They would have conjured all of Teyvat together.

They would have loved each other.

Lumine would wake up, tears in her eyes, heart heavy with desire for that life.

And then she would cry because her life would never be peaceful ever again.

#genshin impact #genshin childe #genshin lumine #chilumi #fanfiction #fanfic #me

[littlemisspascal]

Ezra’s Journal Entries #1-3

Fandom: Prospect / Pedro Pascal

Pairing: Ezra x Female!Reader

Word Count: 1,269

Summary: You and I were made from the same star, you said with such conviction it stole the breath from my lungs, bound to each other for eternity by the Currents of the universe. 

Warnings: angsty fluff, Ezra’s dealing with the aftermath of the Green, language, 1st person POV (Ezra), dialogue in italics because that’s just how I chose to do it, no beta so all mistakes are mine

Author Note: I know I said Death and Angel would come out next, but I got such a inspiration high and the words came out so quickly I just told myself screw it and decided to share what I have. If anyone thinks this is a series worth pursuing, let me know. If you don’t, well, just be gentle please 💖

Cross-posted on AO3

Entries #4-6

Look for additional notes at the bottom.

My name is Ezra. 

I have my mama to thank for that. Time has erased her face from my memory, but her voice is ingrained into the tissue of my brain the same way these words are inked on this parchment. She was a bonafide believer that the meaning of a child’s name influenced the course of their destiny. When I was no taller than the height of her waist I learned my own name’s denotation: help.

It’s just a tick too ironic, isn’t it? To be destined to help others when I can’t help my own self. I gave the Green far too little credit. It didn’t just pilfer my arm to satisfy its ravenousness, it greedily stole my sense of purpose too. 

Every night I thank the deities you didn’t accompany me there. If the Green had taken you...

I know how worried you are about me, little love of mine. When I look at you, I find you already looking back, a sweet smile gracing your lips even as concern burns in your eyes as an eternal flame. From day one you’ve always been looking at me, seeing every disgraced flaw and scar—even the invisible ones carved into the darkest edges of my soul. Kevva knows I’ve never been capable of concealing anything from you, but fuck if I don’t wish I could sometimes.

You’re asleep now as I write this, tucked against my side in the vacant space my arm once occupied, drooling on my shirt. I love you so much it hurts. A black hole in my chest perpetually aching to be filled by your presence. And as we venture once more into the starry sea, our ship gliding past the imaginary wings of Noctua, I find myself recalling a theory you once told me many cycles ago about humans being made in the womb with stardust infused in their bones, linking them to the universe. You and I were made from the same star, you said with such conviction it stole the breath from my lungs, bound to each other for eternity by the Currents of the universe. 

And it’s undoubtedly selfish, but all I could think of in that tender moment beyond kissing you was how I didn’t want an eternity spent together with our cosmic bodies intertwined. 

I want longer.

Soon after we awoke and each consumed a slice of bush bread bought during our recent docking at Kamrea, you fiddled with the channels on the ship’s radio, hoping to hear news from your homeworld but cursing when you only heard static. Then, without an ounce of forewarning, music burst out with an almighty scream through the speakers at full volume, flooding the whole compartment with a woman’s warbling. It was the same crusted Vayok song that merc Inumon blared in my ears during my last night on the Green, every note an individual needle piercing my skull, impossible to ignore.

Reality deserted me, leaving me to sink to the depths of the abyss within my mind where all I could see was Cee’s pale, disturbed expression as she looked to me for guidance. I remembered how my tongue felt clumsy in my mouth as I tried my damnedest to negotiate our transport, thinking if I could just piece together the right sequence of words, if I could just get their lingering eyes off of her, then maybe, maybe we’d have a chance at salvation. 

The memories coalesced, overlapping and blurring and mixing out of order. Each one was drenched in spilt blood.

Then your pinky wrapped around mine. The touch was soft yet firm, the action childlike in its innocence. It was such a jarring contradiction to my mind’s violent narrative, my consciousness was hurtled back into the living quarters of our ship as a result. You didn’t say anything when you saw I returned to you. Instead, you swallowed down the questions lodged in your throat and led me by our entwined fingers back to our bed.

There’s a plant back home called a dandelion, you told me with my head resting in your lap, a far better comfort than any pillow could provide me. It’s the only plant in the galaxy you can see the sun, the moon and the stars when you look at it. That’s not why it’s my favorite though.

I asked how it had won your heart’s favor if not due to its resemblance to the celestial bodies, then immediately found myself mesmerized by the smile that lit up your face as you peered down at me. My chest cavity tightened as I was filled with the profound longing to be able to suspend time, if only so I could stretch this moment to match the length of our separation, if only so I could erase the old and replace it with the beautiful new.

Dandelions grant wishes, babe. Anything you wish for with your whole heart, it will be yours to have.

I told you I wouldn’t wish for anything—nothing else in the galaxy could compare to the prettiest, wisest soul I’d ever encountered in all my years traversing it. You saw right through that lie with the same confident ease you see through all my masks and diversions, but—for the second time in the span of an hour—you held your tongue.

This journal’s as good a place as any to admit the honest truth. So here it is: I wish with the entirety of my bloody, beating heart I could be the man you deserve, little love of mine. 

When you read, whether it be a book or the flight manual, you have the precious habit of mouthing the words. I don’t think you have the faintest notion you’re even doing it, which makes it all the more endearing to watch.

My brother had a similar habit, always nose deep in the yellowing pages of classic literature, except he had a proclivity to spoil the plot when he talked in his sleep. I remember there was one particular novel he returned to often, sometimes reading from beginning to end, other times seeking out specific segments he’d underlined in bold, black pen. It was a rather dreary tale about war and rivalry and the process of determining one’s own identity. I became so exasperated with my brother’s obsession I considered shredding it on more than one occasion, only to immediately hate myself for entertaining the thought.

It was only after his death—twelve whole cycles, in fact—that I summoned up the will to open the front cover. Seeing his name scribbled in the corner, cursive and neat and so utterly him, nearly had me tearing the book in half, overcome with a vicious rage I had never known prior nor have I encountered since. But by the almighty grace of Kevva I reigned it in, chaining it to the agony and fear imprisoned within the confines of my rib cage, and turned the page.

There was one segment underlined not once, but three times, nearly bleeding ink onto the page behind it. When I close my eyes, the words are tattooed on the backs of my eyelids, as haunting as they are comforting.

So the more things remained the same, the more they changed after all. Nothing endures. Not love, not a tree, not even a death by violence.

The author lived and died centuries before my brother’s inception, that is an inarguable fact. 

But I know those words were written for him all the same. 

Notes: 

There is an actual theory humans are made of stardust ✨

The Sater within Prospect mention the Currents as being responsible for bringing Ezra and Cee to them, so I imagine them as similar to the Fates/Moirai in Greek mythology.

Noctua is a real life, extinct constellation that is Latin for owl. I thought within this Prospect universe it could exist as a type of landmark or coordinate. Plus I love owls 🦉

Crusted is a term from Prospect Ezra uses. Equivalent of damn. I think there’s something funny about how they use creamy as a positive adjective and crusted as negative.

Vayok is the alien language Inumon speaks within the movie, so I decided to write the song she blares as being sung in the same language

Bush bread is referenced in a deleted scene by Ezra, but a google search revealed to me it’s also a real life type of bread too

In the same deleted scene Ezra references that he has a brother. I haven’t decided his name yet/if he will have one

The book and quote Ezra refers to in #3 is John Knowles’ A Separate Peace. One of the few required reading books I liked back in high school.

The quote about dandelions being the sun, moon and stars is based on the legend of how dandelions came into existence. I always thought it was beautiful.

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