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exitpursuedbyavulcan · 3 months

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The Silver Dragon Chapter 1

The Bronze Bitch's Daughter

Prince Daemon Targaryen has grown tired of his Lady wife, the “Bronze Bitch” Rhea Royce. But he is not so easily rid of her. She survives not only his brutal attack, but his cruel violation of her. Though she remains broken and weak, she endures just long enough to deliver a child: a girl of silver hair and steely eyes.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x OC (Daemon and Rhea's daughter)

Warnings: Heavily implied rape

Author's Note: Here's the first chapter of my rework of The Silver Dragon! I'm keeping the old versions up, but they will be labeled "archived."

*Important Note* While he's not the villain of the show or book, Daemon is the villain of this story. We are seeing him through the perspectives of people he's hurt in various different ways. As such, he is not as morally gray as you may be used to. If you think this will upset you, don't read. Thank you!

Series Masterlist - Next Chapter

Rhea Royce lay prone on the earth ground of her beloved Vale. But she could feel neither the cold of the stone nor the dampness of the grass and stone as it seeped through her hunting leathers and onto her skin. As the heat of her body met with the chill in the ground, the runes of protection etched into her pauldrons became fogged over – rendered unreadable.

She knew she should hurt. The pain should be unbearable. Yorwyck was a mighty beast, like the Bronze King he was named for. The whole weight of the horse had come down upon her, so there was no doubt he caused her great damage in his fall. She had heard the sharp cracking of her own bones. Yet she felt none of it.

All she could feel was fear.

The cloaked man waited until her steed was out of sight. Rhea was well and truly alone, with only the distant ramparts of Runestone peering from between the hills as witness to whatever would come next.

He approached her slowly, casually, as if he couldn’t hear her desperate whimpers. She knew he just didn’t care. He ran his violet eyes along her body as he approached her head. It was not a gaze of lust. He looked on her with the same disdainful curiosity as one examining a woodland rodent crushed by a cart.

As he stood directly over her, he turned his eyes from her face – he had always avoided looking at the face he found so displeasing. Instead, he turned to her outstretched arm. He took another step, raising his foot above Rhea’s lower arm. The ghost of a wicked smile danced in the corner of his mouth, and he stepped down.

Nothing.

He raised and pressed his foot down again several more times. Not to be sure, but to emphasize to his victim that she was utterly helpless – precisely as he wanted her. Rhea knew the horrors his men had inflicted on the criminals of King’s Landing and the followers of the Crab Feeder. She knew the cruelty he was capable of and of his unparalleled creativity. He had hated her for years. In all that time, he must have imagined countless ways to torture her.

Rhea braced herself for what would come next. At least she would not feel the pain.

But his steps retreated.

All the fear in Rhea’s heart evaporated, swiftly replaced by rage. After these long nine years, this was all he had for her? For nine years, he traveled the whole of the Seven Kingdoms and beyond, slandering her and her family in the courts, then further insulting her with his brazen whoring. She had lost count of how often he had called her “Bronze Bitch” and accused her of ruining his life. She had been anticipating a reckoning from him.

But this?

This was an insult she could not stand.

Rhea knew she would be signing her soul over to the Stranger, but she would not let Daemon Targaryen have the final say.

“I knew you couldn’t finish,” she spat at her retreating husband.

He turned back, looking at her face for the first time. Rage twisted his face, but his eyes were wide with shock. He had not expected that. But she was, after all, his Bronze Bitch.

What he said next had Rhea’s blood running cold as she thanked all the Seven that she would not feel what was to come. “My dear, lady wife,” he said, breath heaving and voice dripping with hateful venom, “perhaps it is time we consummate our union.”

The Lady of Runestone was dying, nine months on from her “accident.”

The people of the Vale were told that it was a miracle from the Seven themselves that she had survived such a devastating fall from her horse. Even more miraculous still, her husband had swooped in on dragonback to rescue her before she succumbed. He had even used his mount, Caraxes ‘the Blood Wyrm,’ to find and dispatch the offending horse. A true Targaryen prince, rescuing his bronze damsel. It was no wonder when her cousin and heir, Gerold, announced to the court that she was with child. They cared little that their Lady’s rescuer had swept flown out of the Vale as swiftly as he had arrived.

Only her cousin, her Maester, and her ladies-in-waiting knew the truth. Maester Kerith had spent countless hours binding the broken bones that could be saved, and those he could not, he promptly removed. When Lady Rhea next sat the Bronze Throne, she made sure her ladies dressed her in her riding leathers rather than a gown that would hide her injuries. She wanted her court to see what she had survived, even if they could not know the truth.

When it became clear that the consequences of what her husband had done extended beyond mere injuries, Maester Kerith offered her moon tea, but she refused. With her health still declining and her body struggling to overcome the trauma she had faced, she knew she would not survive long. But again, she refused to let Daemon have the final word in their hellish marriage. He had insulted her, paralyzed her, and raped her, but she would not let him forget her.

She would leave him with an Heir of Bronze.

The babe was born as the sun rose, though the day remained dark beneath the clouds that so often surrounded Runestone.

Rhea wept for the first time, having felt no pain throughout the birth, when she saw that her daughter had the silver-white hair of her father. She had prayed for months that her child would look just like her, to be a constant reminder of his Bronze Bitch. But the babe was just another silver Targaryen. Her final revenge had failed.

Gerold sat at her side, cradling the girl in his arms, as her mother could not. Then, as the babe began to cry, he held her out so Rhea could see her.

“Cousin, look at her eyes,” he whispered, all too aware of the grim looks on the Maester and Septas’ faces.

Rhea turned her head, lifting her neck as much as her weakening body would allow to try and glimpse her child through her tears. She looked past the white hair at the small but wide eyes that beheld her.

The slate grey eyes of Runestone, the Bronze Kings, and the First Men. Royce eyes.

Rhea smiled. Perhaps her revenge would not be as sharp as she would like, but so long as her daughter remained, Daemon would never forget her. He would always remember that he could not break her.

The Lady of Runestone’s breaths came slower, and though the Septas flurried around her, she paid them no mind. She had known all these months that she would not live to see the look on Daemon’s face when he first met his heir. She knew these were her last moments. But she did not want to spend them afraid. She wanted to spend them with her daughter.

Fitting, she thought, that Daemon’s heir should be a girl. His young niece had usurped his claim to the Iron Throne, and now his claim to Runestone was usurped by his own daughter.

And what a beautiful daughter she was. Rhea’s vision began to blur around the edges, and the voices of the others in the room faded as she beheld the babe. Her eyes were bright, even as she cried softly, and the silver-white of her gently curling hair seemed to bring out a metallic shine in her grey eyes. They complimented each other, as her parents never had.

This girl was not bronze.

“Arianwyn,” Rhea whispered, naming her child as the life, at last, left her broken body. Lady of silver.

It was not Prince Daemon who came to Runestone to receive the child on behalf of the Royal family, but the young Queen Alicent Hightower. She came with the unwelcome news that the child’s father had already remarried. Less than a month after he became a widower. He had departed with his new wife, Laena Velaryon, to Pentos without leaving instruction on the care of his daughter – or even acknowledging her birth.

Alicent, despite her reputation as a fierce supporter of her husband’s family, was more than empathetic to the child’s plight. It seemed to Ser Gerold that the young Queen held a similar opinion to his own regarding Daemon Targaryen. She commiserated with him on the pain the prince had caused his family, especially Rhea and her daughter. It seemed that As long as the prince had vexed the Royce family, he had been equally maddening to his brother.

But what was most shocking to Gerold and the court at Runestone was the offer the Queen brought: to bring the child to King’s Landing and raise her there. Despite her father’s indifference, the child was a Targaryen. It was her right to live amongst her people, to learn the traditions of Old Valyria.

And at the Red Keep, Arianwyn would not be alone. The Queen had three children, each young enough to be peers to their newest Targaryen cousin, and more were anticipated from both Alicent and the recently wed Princess Rhaenyra.

The King had already given his approval, both to the fostering of his niece at the Red Keep and of Gerold serving as regent of Runestone until the girl had come of age. Indeed, all the arrangements were already made. The Queen had even brought a small contingent of attendants for the child, from nursemaids to Dragonkeepers, who carried a great, steaming urn containing a silver dragon egg – supposedly chosen by the Queen’s infant son – to be placed in Arianwyn’s cradle.

Gerold had only one caveat before he agreed to the King’s plan: that Arianwyn would not venture to the capital alone. A handful of attendants from Runestone delegates would be sent with her to educate her on the history and traditions of House Royce. So that even surrounded by Targaryens, she would not forget why her eyes were grey.

Queen Alicent, herself clothed in Hightower green, happily agreed.

After a long journey from the Vale, Lady Arianwyn Targaryen arrived at Red Keep, cradled in the arms of her aunt, Queen Alicent Hightower. As her attendants, including one of her late mother’s most trusted Lady’s Maids, continued on to prepare her rooms, the newest Targaryen was brought into the Great Hall.

A hush fell over the gathered courtiers when the doors to the throne room opened, and they beheld the silver-haired babe. But the chatter that so often filled the capital quickly resumed when they saw the blanket she was swaddled in. A burnished bronze velvet, carefully embroidered with the same ancient Runes that graced the ancestral armor of House Royce.

It was a slight on the Royal House that, in another court, would have undoubtedly caused a scandal. But in this court, where the Queen herself so brazenly wore the colors of her own house rather than her husband’s, it was immediately relegated to petty gossip. So the Lords and Ladies quickly resumed their conversations as the Queen approached the Iron Throne.

“My King, may I present your niece, Lady Arianwyn Targaryen,” Alicent said as she bowed before her husband as best she could with a squirming infant in her arms.

King Viserys’ eyes brightened, and he dismissed the Hand from his side. The King, having lost so many of his own children by his first wife, was always cheered when he had the chance to meet a healthy babe.

“Hello, my dear niece,” he cooed, reaching out to hold her, “what a delight you are!” His arms strained slightly at the weight of the plump child, so he pulled her into his chest. She relaxed into his against him, fussing softly as she reached for his long white hair.

Viserys laughed, running his fingers through her own hair. The exact shade of silver-white that graced nearly every member of his family. Though hers held significantly more curls than any Targaryen he had ever known.

“She is indeed a beauty, cousin.” A familiar voice drew the King’s attention. His cousin, Rhaenys, approached the throne. “It is a comfort to see our families flourishing.”

The King smiled and nodded, allowing his cousin permission to approach. She ascended the steps to the Iron Throne and ran the back of her fingers along the round cheek of her new baby cousin. “It is a shame her father is not here to meet her.”

Viserys heart sank. In his joy at meeting Arianwyn, he had momentarily forgotten the circumstances under which she arrived – without her father. Once again, his brother had shamed not only himself, but his family and the Crown itself. At least the child’s hair had put to rest any rumors that Rhea had been unfaithful.

Suddenly, the sight of the babe made his heart ache. “Alicent,” he called to his wife, “take Arianwyn to her rooms. I am sure she is tired from the journey.” He handed his wife the child and slumped back into the throne, readjusting himself to try and remain comfortable. Then, when Alicent was out of earshot, he again turned to Rhaenys.

“What has my brother done now?” He said, running his gloved hand over his face.

Rhaenys grimaced. “I am loathe to speak against him now, as he has so recently taken my daughter to wife,” she sighed. “But I feel confident in saying that none of us can ever say exactly what your brother is doing, much less predict what he may yet do in the future.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Viserys said, “I just pray that poor girl won’t suffer any more than she already has.”

When she arrived, the Queen’s three children were waiting inside the solar of their cousin’s new rooms. Aegon, now four years old, ran from his nursemaid, cackling as he swerved precariously between the servants attempting to arrange the room. Helaena, approaching her second nameday, stayed in her nurse’s arms, hands clasped tightly around her ears as she took in the unfamiliar space. And Aemond, only a few months older than his new cousin, lay peacefully in his maid’s arms as he watched servants haul numerous sparkling bronze trappings into the rooms.

“Come and meet your new cousin, darlings,” Alicent called to Aegon and the nursemaids bearing her other children, “She’s come a long way to be with us.” The Queen sat on a plush chair near the west windows of the room, gently lowering the babe into her lap.

Aegon reluctantly approached, sneering slightly at the child in his mother’s lap. “She doesn’t look like Daemon.”

Alicent sighed. “Nor did you look like your father when you were so young. Indeed, even now, I wager you look more like me. You have the Hightower nose.” She tweaked the tip of his soft nose – the same as hers - to drive her point home.

“I am a Targaryen prince!” Aegon insisted.

“Of course, my boy. How could any of us forget it with this on your head,” she said, ruffling his unruly mop of white hair.

Aegon grunted, looking back down at the baby. He gently reached out to touch her silver hair, both neater and curlier than his own. “What is her name?”

“Arianwyn.” The Queen responded.

“Ari…” Helaena started, her hands finally coming down from her ears. Alicent nodded for the maid to set her down, and the young girl approached her mother and the babe.

The Queen spoke slowly and carefully as she repeated, “Arianwyn.”

Helaena listened intently, then repeated the name several times, struggling with the pronunciation. “Ah-ree-an-win.”

“That’s it! Very good, my sweet,” the Queen said, placing her hand on her daughter’s shoulder, though the young girl winced at the touch.

Aegon continued fiddling with his cousin’s curls, “It’s a weird name.”

“Her cousin Sir Gerold Royce told me it is of the Old Tongue,” the Queen said, motioning for one of the nursemaids to bring her youngest babe closer, “it has some meaning, though I am afraid I forget what it is.”

Releasing Arianwyn’s hair, Aegon made a noise of quickly waning interest and stepped away, eager to resume his perpetual torment of his nurse. Had she not been holding her young niece, Alicent may have chased after him. But for now, she lifted the child babe to face her own.

“Aemond,” she said softly, “meet Arianwyn.”

As he beheld his bronze-wrapped cousin, he smiled, cooing and reaching a squirming fist toward her. A smile appearing across her own face, Arianwyn reached back toward him.

I'll be starting a new taglist for this, so if you'd like to be on it, please reach out to me or comment on this post.

#aemond #aemond fanfic #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond imagine #prince aemond #aemond x oc #house of the dragon aemond #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd aemond #aemond fic #hotd fanfic #aemond xf!oc #aemond x original female character #aemond x original character #the silver dragon

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grapejuicestyless · 10 months

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Unforgettable

Harry Styles x fem!reader

Summery: Y/n Y/l/n is a classic rockstar with a magnetic pull and a bad reputation with men to her name. Turns out Y/n might not be such a bad girl after all and the men she used might have not been the truth.

Pages bursted from every seam of her notebook, littered in scribbled lyrics of failed beginnings, one night stands and the most innocent poetry writings that reflected the opposite of the devilish woman behind the pencil marks.

Everything about her was shiny. Her glittery deep purplish blue eyeshadow and the highlight on the tip of her nose to the glistening sweat that dripped underneath her top.

She was messy, yet so detailed. Every hair out of place seemed to fit perfectly a top her head. The lazy smear of lipgloss and eyeshadow applied carelessly yet laying in such way that it almost looked intentional.

It was that careless attitude that was so magnetic about her. The rockstar exterior she possessed attracting the innocent into her wild web of her craft.

But, despite her rockstar complexion and her love life reputation, the girl had an undeniable talent that could not be ruined by the poor press that swirled her name.

So it could only be fitting to place the most standout woman there into the cleanest band reputation wise. It was humorous, when it was announced. Y/n Y/l/n, joining Harry Styles for his long awaited Love On Tour.

Harry, who had hand picked her from the bunch of bassists waiting to wow him, was immediately aware of her presence. Her look sharp and eye catching, but her talent even better. She had a skill for her craft that nobody else was even able to come close to achieving. It was almost destiny she had shown up, notebook stuffed full of sloppy writing and bass scratched from her frustration.

Truthfully, Y/n hadn’t really longed to be placed into the band. She didn’t exactly enjoy the bright pinks and pop music that blasted through the speakers. She had only gone to the audition because she had been itching to play. Having traveled the world with some of the biggest inspirations, and by herself on a successful world tour a couple years ago, Y/n found herself bored in her home for so long. She was just about ready to go out a preform to a room filled with angry elderly people who hated all loud noises. Anything to give her the thrill of being in front of the crowd again.

So, when she was emailed one August evening, detailing of an audition for a bassist to join a well known artist on stage, she pushed aside her unfamiliarity with the genre.

It wasn’t that Y/n disliked pop music, it just wasn’t her favorite. She’s spent most of her time closer to a soft rock sound, pulling from past inspirations and old sounds that could be reworked into her work. The glitz and glam of the fresh and new sounding pop music was only something she hadn’t really gotten into, explaining why she felt more nervous than glad she was selected.

Yet, her ability to adjust and charm her way through her lack of experience within the genre was enough to keep her going, placing her where she was now. Standing next Harry, under the intense lights of Madison Square in the middle of one of the hottest summers to date.

…

A year had passed, just about, since Y/n first stepped onto the stage, her bass slung around her neck with a tattered strap that was practically molded to her shoulders. She gave a good amount to the band, adding in bass lines that ascended the songs into a better form of themselves. Making sure not to overpower the other instruments, but to lift them up and amplify how they sounded collectively as a band.

“That was good, that sounded great actually!” I turned back, the side of my lip pressed into the surface of the microphone. My hands found their way around the cord, untangling it to gain some more movement around the stage.

“Why don’t we recollect, get some water and stretch out?” I shot a thumbs up to the sound guy, who had been playing around with some switches behind a small barricade farther back in the arena. After the go ahead was given, the lights dimmed to a soft glow on top of the stage and the heat seemed less intense.

“No way, that’s so cool! Where did you find that, I’ve been having so much trouble looking for a new bass recently.” Her voice was slightly raspy, deeper too, I noticed from the dryness that I assumed was itching at her throat.

I watched her toss her head back, lips wrapped around the plastic water bottle until it crinkled beneath her hands and was left with nothing more than a few stray drops of water pooling at the bottom.

Elin, who she had been conversing with enthusiastically, seemed to match her energy precisely, showing Y/n the same amount of excitement over the new piece of equipment. Eyes gleaming with interest and passion over the topic. It felt warming knowing that work felt less like an obligation but instead was a privilege.

A close knit family that brought a dopey smile to my face at only the thought of it. I listened to them and there insane energy inconspicuously, eyes avoidant of the women and instead settled on the ledge between Sarah’s drums and where the trumpet players would stand later that night where the nearest supply of water was.

From afar, underneath the sound in my head of my aggressive swallowing of water, it sounded like the pair were dispersing. The conversation ended with a faint laugh that dwindled out the longer the conversation ended.

It was a true laugh, sincere. Almost a belly laugh but just not quite there yet. The sound so familiar it was instantly pinned in my mind as Y/n’s.

The common misconception about Y/n was that she was shallow, unfeeling and unknowing of basic relationships and proper manners. The media had poorly labeled the innocent woman, her lyrics thought to be too provocative and explicit. Too in depth and detailed that gossip accounts were ready to start this false narrative about the most undeserving person of the hate.

Maybe it was her careless expressions after completing a hard bass line, or her rockstar style that made her such an easy target for the untrue opinions and thoughts. She had that old grungy thing about her that both made her desirable and criticized, yet she made it work.

Y/n was the sun, in my eyes. A bright, young woman with wisdom beyond her years and heart so full it was overflowing with empathy and sympathy. Her lyrics reflected her past experiences, like any other artist. Her failed relationships that left her in the darkness and her distantly timed hook ups to fill the cold loneliness beside her bed.

Truthfully, she was more like the rest of the industry than any gossiper could comprehend. Her writing abilities expressed so freely, so vulnerable that it caused that discomfort, that pit in the listeners stomach forming with each song she put on her albums. The real truth was that she wasn’t some shallow, sex driven girl who dated guys to write about how they did her wrong. She was a loving woman who loved everyone more than life and was overly naive. She dated trying to find someone who could understand her like she understood everyone else. She spoke what was on her mind completely true and unfiltered constantly. Not fearful of the backlash her opinions would bring. That’s what continues to draw me to her throughout our time together.

“Hey, Harry.” Her voice was sweet, laced with honey and dripping in sweetness. I barely noticed her touch on my shoulder until I looked down at her guitar string scarred hands and found myself smiling.

“What’s up, Angel? What’s going on?” I turned my back to her, head thrown over my shoulder to look back to her face while my hands worked on screwing on the cover to my water bottle.

“You know, the usual. Just wanted to tell you I thought that note change during Sign of the Times was beautiful. You should go for those higher notes more often, you hit them every time.” She was completely honest in her opinions, which is why I held her words dear to my heart.

Y/n had no issue telling me what she thought. She was rather quick to give pointers of what worked better and how to substitute those notes that were strained and uncomfortable. Yet, she did it with such a down to earth point of view. She remained humble, even if everyone here knew she had talents beyond all of ours. She acted like she was just as good as the rest of us, like we were equals.

“I know, it’s just hard with so many people around. Don’t want to fall flat and ruin it.” Shrugging, we walked together to the stairs at the edge of the stage.

“Don’t psych yourself out, Styles. You nail those notes all the time. Your range is unbelievably complex. You have that ability to hit the higher notes every time.” She placed her hand in mine, following me down the stairs cautiously as the last one was always less steep than the rest, causing mishaps occasionally.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” We nodded at each other, silently understanding that the conversation was ending but still taking each other in. It almost felt like something was pulling us closer, eyes growing heavier and smiles getting looser. Breathing sharper.

“I’ll see you tonight, yeah?” It was breathy, the way it came out of her mouth. Almost like it was something she hadn’t wanted to say but forced herself to.

I nodded, watching her eyes crinkle before she turned away briskly, quick to find her escape through the illuminated tunnel. For a moment I felt like a fly in a web that was her creation, stuck in place to just stare as she left.

…

The show was unworldly. An atmosphere so intense and the energy so insane the floor swayed beneath my feet. The shows were structured the same each night, yet each one felt like a completely new experience. It was how the fans danced together in a formation that they’d created during Treat People With Kindness and how they’d share different experiences drawn out on their cardboard signs. It was surreal, something I felt lucky enough to experience with some of my closest friends, my band.

It went by smoothly, as projected to. The lights and the transitions between each songs igniting an excitement beyond no other I had ever experienced. Sarah played the drums precisely, hitting every beat necessary as her husband, Mitch, created the familiar tunes that were the songs of the past few albums. Within in the music, Y/n stood perched just next to Pauli, continuing to support Mitch and Elin within her bass playing.

By the time Kiwi had reached its end, I caught myself looking back to catch a glance at Y/n. Telling myself it was only to get a short moment to observe her living in her passion. Really, deep down I knew it was something more, something that had always been there yet I hadn’t had the courage to admit until that out loud.

…

The dressing room was quiet, after the show. The post show blues, as I used to refer to it as. The ultimate high coming back down with the realization that it was all over.

I let myself peel the sweaty chevron shirt off of my body and kicking off my green Gucci shoes. I left on the mismatched bottoms while ruffling through the pile of clothes packed in my suitcase for a shirt and shorts.

“Hey, rockstar. Trying a new look?” My head raised, turning halfway to meet her eyes.

“Yeah, really going for that oiled up 2000’s boy next door idea.” We laughed, eyes closing at how stupid I must’ve looked to her. Finding it funny and slightly embarrassing as the rose tint spread like wildfire across my cheeks.

Soon, our laughs turned into silence, warm smiles reflecting off of our faces onto the others. It was comfortable, lip caught between her teeth and mine pulling at the skin of my bottom one.

“I heard what you did tonight. Proud of you. I told you, you could hit that note change. Honestly, sounded better out there than at soundcheck.” My heart fluttered.

“I could say the same about you. It’s like you gain more power with each show.”

“Stop it, you just might make me blush.” She stepped closer, merely a few inches left separating the two of us. Her breath tickling my skin, her hands clenched by her sides nervously.

Suddenly, she had lost all that confidence that told the world she could play anyone like a fiddle. Suddenly she lost that fog around the mirror that created the illusion of a rockstar super player who moved from one man to the next, without rhyme or reason. She became what we’d all learned of her. The girl who loved long and hard on the people close to her, and the girl who despite was she was destined by the media to have been, had only had a couple relationships past the one night stands that filled her notebook. She batted her eyes, and I held my breath.

“Y/n…” It was a whisper. A soft murmur beneath my breath, but I was sure she’d heard it.

I found myself slowly reaching for her hand, opening it on top of my palm and brushing my fingers gently over the creases that ran along them before letting it fall back to her side. My eyes lifted from where we touched back to her face. Only to allow myself to find contact again. I let my hand slip around her waist, pulling slowly until our bodies were pressed together. The only thing separating our lips was the small gap we’d placed between them.

“Harry..?” She seemed conflicted, unsure almost. Hesitant.

“Is this okay?” It came out shaky, the nerves reaching a point that could only be cured by her acceptance.

“I…I just…” She thought on it, “I don’t want you to believe everything about me. I don’t want to lose you when you realize I’m not who you think I am.” The confession sounded like it was almost painful to admit.

“Oh.” I blinked, “Y/n, angel, no. I would never think that.” Her eyes were avoidant, her body more tense than moments prior.

“Please, look at me.” I let my other hand raise under his chin, pointer finger hooking underneath her chin to raise her gaze to mine, “To me, you are everything. You understand me. You see things that nobody else sees. Y/n, you bring out the best in me. I would have never had the courage to push myself and change that note tonight if you hadn’t pushed me to do it. You have this honesty that makes everyone value your words and you have this power over me that continues to draw me to you. I can not explain it, but believe me when I say you are all I want.” Her eyes fogged with what I believed to be her taking in my sudden confession. Yet, with her realization at what I had just said, she still remained silent and I felt the instant regret growing harder in my heart.

I had been through enough rejections to build a home. Yet, the thought of her rejecting me hurt more than anything I could’ve put myself through.

“Shit..Im sorry. I didn’t mean to-“ My explanation was no use, her hands on my cheeks and her lipstick smearing across my lips in a red hue as her lips pressed hard into mine in a sudden burst of confidence.

My eyes shut quickly, settling into it, only for it to be taken away quicker than I had longed for. Eyes opened in a lustful haze. Yet it wasn’t sexual, but completely innocent and perfect in every sense.

“I love you.” The words slipped passed my lips before I could stop them. A smile growing in a lovesick fashion across her face as my confession Is held in for so long reached her ears.

“I love you too.” She returned the confession, leaning in again to press her lips harder into mine and a heavenly sigh escaping her throat.

It was passionate and loving in a way that I’d never experienced before. The shared feelings were strong, new, vulnerable. A new beginning that both of us secretly longed for.

How funny the public would find it if the news ever broke that their precious bad girl rockstar was actually a giant love bug and an angel on earth. How much of a shock it would be to those who tore her down for her fashion choices and her lack of precautions in the public eye.

She might not be who she was made out to be from the exterior, but the one thing the press had gotten right about the devilish woman who broke too many hearts and dished out too many fights she could handle.

She is unforgettable.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles angst

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nerdycanible1 · 30 days

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Heyo! Anyone want some Lin Fanart? :D

Here you go!

I'd like to think this is right after Suyin hurt her and Lin may or may be blinded 👀💧

I'm not exactly good with expressions but I wanted to show Lin in both pain but also the anger and hate in her eyes.

All art belongs to me. If reposted plz credit!

Accidentally written a little one shot that's horrible. I meant to take a nap but just sat in my living room typing this and munching on food!

Enjoy- tho I doubt it'll be good 💀

Suyin would undoubtedly be upset she hurt her sister, but wouldn't be prepared to see this expression. An expression she's never seen on Lin before and is possibly ingrained in her mind forever.

Suyin would go to help Lin but Lin would refuse to let Suyin any closer and literally build a wall preventing Suyin from getting close.

Toph shows up and asking what happened, comforts Suyin upon feeling the little ones erratic heart beating all before Suyin tells her mother she's sorry and that Lin's hurt.

Toph goes to see what happens and all she hears is Lin barking at the healer to just do what they can and a slam of a door closing. Toph could sense something is wrong with Lin and can tell she'd faint at any moment if she don't step in only for Lin to hold her hand up at her mother and tells her, "Not now."

Before Toph could say anything Lin tosses her metal coils down on the ground and telling Toph that they'd need to be upgraded and that it's best for everyone in the facility to get them reworked.

Lin's face begins to swell up, the blood is trickling onto the ground and the healer helplessly following Lin around as she's barking orders but is starting to sway and almost faint.

Toph ends up freezing Lin in her place with her metal armor just to help the poor healer out and demands Lin to tell her what happened.

Lin straining too much and only just begins to fall to her knees as she can't fight against her mother in the state she's in, her heart aches, her face feels in agony and she feels ready to fall asleep.

The next thing she knows, she wakes up in a dimly lit room. She could smell the incense and the sandal wood and the light smell of spring in the air. She could hear yelling down the hallway between her aunt and mother, Suyin screaming that it was Lin's fault and of course the numbing pain on Lin's face.

She knew what happened and knew how bad the wound was. She didn't need a healer to tell her how bad the wound was because she felt it, could already sense her other senses strengthening.

With a sigh the metalbender slowly turned her head which made the blood in her head pump and practically caused her brain to ache as she tried to look out the window.

It took too long for Lin to focus and could see the sun had set a bit ago. She'd sit up and leave if she could but just the thought of it hurt Lin's head and she didn't want to go through that pain.

"We don't arrest family!!"

"And look what happened! Agni Toph, Lin got hurt and Suyin's in shambles! I'm not asking you to arrest Suyin I'm just asking you to help her. Ground her! She needs a mother Toph, not an absent one!"

"If I need any advice from you I'd ask! It's just a scratch, Beifong's don't get hurt!-"

"Mom?-"

"-And what do you know about raising kids Sugar Queen? Your two oldest couldn't wait to leave you and where are they now?!"

"-Aunt Katara?-"

"-That's not fair and you know it! They're grown up! Let them do as they and ex- you know what? Forget it! Since you're blind to see what's in front of you I'll tell you! Lin hates you and you don't know why! You're so concerned about your job, about your name, about your position, about metalbending that you forgot what's important!"

"And what's so important huh?!"

"That Lin is important too!"

The silence is what stung Lin the most. Maybe it was the hesitance or maybe the fact that her mother took a whole 10 seconds to finally respond. It was enough for Lin to realize her mother never saw Lin on any level of importance in a very long time.

"So what. She's a big girl, she doesn't need me. She didn't need me when she started tying her shoes, she don't need me now."

Lin sighed felt tears prickle in her eye before quietly crawling out of bed and out the window. She made her way down to the beach and sat down mauling over her aunt and mother's words.

Maybe her mother was right. Maybe Lin was the first to start pushing everyone away. Maybe she forgot what family was. It would make sense why her mother and younger sister were close and how she wasn't. Maybe Lin stopped being apart of the family once she realized she was nowhere near the same as them. When she was the one ruining their fun and becoming a "party pooper."

And even if that was true, even if it were very much apparent, it didn't hurt any less. People used to tell her how much her mother and her were alike. Nicknaming her Little Toph or Tiny Beifong. That she was going to be just like her mother and become a great metalbender.

She thought that since she looked like her mother, became an officer like her mother, bent the same stones as her mother, that she and her would share a bond. A bond that no one would understand but them.

It hurt her once Suyin was born, it was like Toph and her clicked right away and suddenly Lin wasn't Little Toph anymore. She became Miss cranky pants or miss you're-not-Suyin's-mom. She was no longer little Chief but an annoyance to her and her mother. A nag that ruined the fun.

The more people saw Suyin and Toph together the more they said Suyin was exactly like her. Rough, abrasive, strong, stubborn and a powerful metalbender.

A metalbender. Lin just realized why her mother favored Suyin over her. It was because Suyin was a great metalbender. Maybe that's why she loved Suyin more than her.

Lin ran her fingers through the coarse sand and stared up at the moon. Was she always this different? Was she ever in the spotlight to begin with? Lin didn't know but she knew she'd have to accept that she'll never be good enough. Even as she thought these things, Toph was probably taking care of Suyin because she was upset.

Maybe one day Lin would be a true Beifong and everything will be fixed. One day where she was just liked her mother and sister and they could be happy. One day where she didn't become a buzz kill.

Maybe one day she'll be a great metalbender that was worth her mother's time. She just hoped it was soon rather than later. She didn't want to be the only one left behind.

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bonefall · 4 days

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a couple of leafstar questions! 1) is the process of selecting her to be new!skyclan’s leader changed at all by the fact that brokenstar is now firestar’s travelling buddy? 2) is billyleaf sticking around as a ship, and how will it change, if at all? 3) is leafstar going to be as… notably dumb in her reactions to everything happening so far in ASC?

The list of SkyClan changes is probably longer than the list of things that are staying the same. Cultural expansions, a very different culture, unique politics, even an alternate Warrior Code. Real fans of SkyClan want them to be completely different <3

Leafstar's not an exception. I HATE canon Leafstar. Every action they've taken with her has felt absolutely awful since Firestar's Quest so I'm just overwriting her completely.

SkyClan's Leadership

The part of Firestar's Quietus where Firestar and Brokenstar actually CHOOSE who the new leader is going to be is a bit up in the air. I have the beginning and end with the rats figured out-- but the middle has been evading me.

I know that Brokenstar prefers Sharpclaw, at first. Probably because Sharpclaw is so aggressive and dedicated to the old ways.

So it makes sense that Firestar prefers Leafdapple. She's making him realize things about his own way of ruling, parts of Clan culture he's come to accept uncritically.

She straight up blows past his thought-terminating cliches;

Firestar: "You see, Leafdapple... you can't live with a paw in both worlds."

Leafdapple: "Pardon? I don't understand what that means?"

Firestar: "It means... um... hmm ._."

In the end, she's probably chosen exactly because she's not committed to bringing back the past. SkyClan has not been the Clan of Skystar for a long time. It's the Clan of Skywatcher.

It is no longer the Clan-in-the-Canopy, it is the Clan-in-the-Stones.

I feel that the first Leader and Deputy were chosen by Firestar and Brokenstar. Though Brokenstar's mind changes over the course of Firestar's Quietus, I think they ultimately still agree that there were two "sides" of SkyClan that should live in balance.

Leafstar, committed to fairness, abides this. Until Sharpclaw ultimately betrays her for The Kin. (Repeat link from above but if your eyes just popped out of your head it explains everything about how PROFOUNDLY differently I'm approaching The Kin lmaoo)

I hadn't planned explicitly for the deputy system to work a bit differently here, BUT it does also feel in line for Leafstar to decide it on a whim after regrouping. Surrounded by the remnants of her Clan, deputy having just turned half of their warriors against them, SkyClan's protector oak ripping itself off the cliffside and destroying their camp, she jumps up on top of a rock like, "Ok team, that sure was a doozy. Let's try to pick a better deputy this time 8)"

It feels better that deputies are popularly "elected," or at the very least nominated by the Clan. Might make for a nice climactic moment in a rework of Hawkwing's Journey.

Is Billyleaf sticking around?

Yes! But it's actually a bit different.

First of all, Leafstar is actually in a constellation with Billystorm and Echosong, the Cleric. Leafstar is mates with Billystorm and a partner of Echosong. Echosong is not romantically involved with Billystorm. SkyClan actually split off from the main Clans before the Cleric's Vow was codified by Larkstripe's strike. They don't have the same taboo against Clerics having mates or raising kittens.

Billystorm is also a massive himbo now lmao, I'm not a huge fan of him in-canon. I'm still reworking stuff here though-- I'm planning to change SkyClan and the Stranger into Sol's Game, a darker story diving into Sol, the Entity, and Harry, the vessel it courts.

But it's been a while and I need to revamp my old drafts, so that's on the backburner for now.

Is Leafstar going to remain an idiot?

absolutely not. christ. I Don't Rewrite Arcs Until They Are Done but if I ever produce something as brainless as "An entire society believes that a child is lying because her accused murderer says he heard her mother snoring evil manipulation plans in her sleep" then explode me to bits with 10000 pounds of nitroglycerin

instead of just having her and everyone else be dumb, it's an easy enough small change to just have Splashstar already be in power and show the beginning of his reign having gone smoothly. Everyone's desperate for RiverClan to have a leader again. Have Leafstar's bias be against ShadowClan specifically, because Heartstar's nephew Juniperclaw mass-poisoned her entire Clan.

Even before then, too. I don't like how the Erins seem to treat Leafstar as this "unreasonable" character who's usually some shade of wrong. I don't like how she just has to accept that Sharpclaw was undermining her for her own good in SkyClan's Destiny. I don't like how Dodge dragged SkyClan into his stupid conflict. Or how she went back to the Gorge after Juniperclaw's poisoning, only to be herded back by the noble Clan cats when a sudden flood makes their old home unsafe for some reason.

I don't like how she only seems to get a "win" when she's accepting or asserting that the Clans have the perfect way of life and she should resemble it more-- see the opening of AVoS, where it's strongly implied that Daylight Warriors being unable to fight to defend the camp at night was how The Kin was able to throw everyone out, and thus the practice has been abolished since then. I think these conflicts are frustrating in the way they're written and presented.

So quite frankly I'm tossing a lot of it. First and foremost, SkyClan's primary conflicts should be trying to keep its unique cultural identity. Secondary conflicts should be based around its political interactions with the other Clans at the lake, particularly ShadowClan and ThunderClan, which it shares borders with.

BB!Leafstar's personality is that she's assertive, fair, and polite. In my head I lovingly imagine her always speaking in the tone of a corporate manager trying to keep control of her team as the office goes up in flames around her. While she always tries to consider all perspectives and stay approachable to all her warriors, she's often misinterpreted as being passive-aggressive or not genuine.

In a nutshell: I am personally making sure she's not the sort of dumb she is in canon. I have a vision for this version of SkyClan.

#better bones au #BB!SkyClan #BB!Leafstar

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confused-pyramid · 2 years

Text

I Was Wrong

pairing: young!sirius black x slytherin!reader

summary: Sirius always thought you were just like his family: ruthless and cruel. When he finds out how wrong he was, he also learns how similar hate and lust can be...

word count: 6.4k (oof)

warnings: SMUT, p in v, fingering, m!masturbation, m!receiving oral (in his imagination but still), dirty talk, marking, choking, angst, verbal fighting, enemies to lovers, academic rivals to lovers

"10 points to Slytherin," Professor Slughorn commends proudly after you answer his question correctly.

Smirking, you shoot Sirius Black a smug look and lean back in your seat. If looks could kill, you'd likely be a pile of ashes right now, but luckily his heated glares aren't more than a mild inconvenience.

You were the top of your class in nearly every subject, but Potions was one that Sirius somehow managed to eke his way to the top of. He was a naturally gifted wizard who hadn't always been academically inclined, but not for lack of talent. In his early years at Hogwarts, he hadn't tried very hard in school, instead opting to play quidditch and come up with pranks. Your rivalry was what had pushed him to work harder, and he got a ridiculous amount of satisfaction from beating you in the subject taught by your head of house.

Potions soon comes to an end and you pack your things up quickly, strutting out of the dingy room in a hurry. To your dismay, Sirius catches up quickly and you don't look at him when he starts talking to you. "How does it feel being the second best at your favorite subject?"

Not bothering to slow down, you respond icily, "How does it feel being the second best at everything else?"

He chuckles with mirth, matching your gait with irritating precision. You start to think he may finally stalk off, when he leans in close to your ear and whispers, "Not for long."

~~~

Your final class of the day is History of Magic, one which you have the misfortune of sharing with Sirius again. Adjusting your book bag on your shoulder, you walk into the classroom and take your usual seat at the front. You spot Sirius joking with his friends near the back, and you once again begrudgingly admit to yourself that he would be beautiful if he wasn't so infuriating. The way his soft brown eyes always have a glint of mischief, or how his long, dark hair is always styled perfectly or how—

A bell rings, signaling the beginning of the hour and you are jolted from your thoughts. Sirius takes a seat next to you, and unable to help yourself, you glance over at him. You find him already looking at you, a barely concealed grin on his face. "I hear Binns is assigning essay groups today. Now, should I invite 50 people or 100 people to the party I throw when I ace the essay and get the top score in History of Magic this year?"

Rolling your eyes, you turn back to face the front of the classroom, your hair falling over your shoulder in a silky curtain. "In your dreams, Black."

You would be lying if you said that your little rivalry with Sirius wasn't amusing at times, but it was mostly a way to keep you in check so that you could get out of your parent's house once you passed your N.E.W.T.S. Your friends knew about your disagreement with your family's blood purity morals, but no one outside of Slytherin paid enough attention to see how much your house's reputation displeased you.

Professor Binns eventually starts lecturing about the Goblin Rebellions and you quickly grab your quill and parchment. You try your best to stay focused, but even your interest in history can't keep you engaged with Binns' slow speech and indifference. By the time he starts assigning essay pairings, you are so zoned out that you almost miss it when your name is followed by Sirius Black's.

Your eyes widen with disbelief and you turn to Sirius to see an aghast expression on his face. You open your mouth to say something but Sirius just shakes his head and mutters, "There's no point in fighting Binns. He doesn't care enough to rework the arrangements."

You know he's right, but anger and dread flood your veins at the thought of spending a week working with Sirius fucking Black. You stuff your things into your book bag and stomp past him, taking a moment to gripe, "I can't believe I have to work with a bloody Gryffindor."

You're almost out the door when he shoots back, "It's not like I want to work with blood purist scum!"

Shaking your head, you roll your eyes and keep walking until he is out of earshot. His insults used to hurt your feelings, but you had long since gotten over your insecurities about your family and upbringing. His snipes just served to prove his ignorance about who you really were.

~~~

Sirius is fuming as he storms out of History of Magic. He would rather eat slugs than spend a week with you for the essay, but he knew that arguing with the decision was futile. When he passes through the doorway you just walked through, he smells the faint scent of mint and gardenia. Before he can stop himself, he breathes in deeply, catching the last remnants of your lingering perfume. The regret he feels is immediate and he rubs a hand over his face in contempt.

When he returns to Gryffindor tower, he drops his bag in his dormitory before throwing himself onto the couch in the common room. Remus and James are sitting by the fireplace, working on their own homework when he puts his hand to his forehead and groans loudly.

"What's up with you?" James asks, lifting his head from his parchment.

"Wait, let me finish this line," Remus says, waving his hand as he frantically scribbles down a few words. "Okay, what's going on?"

"Oh, nothing," Sirius sighs dramatically. "Just that I've been partnered up with the worst person in the world."

"Binns put you with Snape?" Remus gasps, only slightly feigning astonishment.

"Nope," Sirius shakes his head, lifting his brows for effect, "worse. He put me with y/n."

The two boys share a look for a moment, before James breaks the silence with a small, "Ah."

Sirius, on the other hand, looks at them incredulously. "Ah? I have been given a death sentence and that's all you lot have to say?"

"You don't think you're being a tad dramatic there?" Remus asks quietly. "She's not as bad as you seem to think she is."

Sirius doesn't seem convinced, so James interjects. "Yeah, Lily really doesn't mind her either, actually. They met at one of Slughorn's parties last year."

"Well then, she must be fantastic at hiding her true colors," Sirius decides, sitting up on the couch. "You all have seen her family's reputation. What they've done to people like you, Moony. She's practically following the same path."

"Pads," Remus says carefully, not wanting his next words to come across the wrong way, "the same could be said for you and your family."

"But I'm a Gryffindor!" he yells, surprising even himself with his emotional outburst. "I chose a different path! I pushed them away! I did that!"

Silence echoes throughout the nearly empty common room and Remus and James know better than to push the subject any further. They slowly return to their work, and Sirius pushes himself off of the couch before taking the stairs two at a time up to the boys dormitories.

~~~

Potions the next day is a tense affair, made worse when Professor Slughorn announces the date of his next party.

"Members of the Slug Club are welcome to attend my party next Friday evening," he states, smiling kindly at the students, before a serious expression crosses his face. "Formal attire mandatory."

You tilt your head down to hide the smile that tries to escape, before turning to your friends to discuss what you all are going to wear. The class ends soon after and you are surprised to see Sirius waiting for you by the door.

Your friends shoot you weary looks, but you nod, telling them it's okay and that you will catch up with them later. When they all shuffle out, you turn to him and sigh, "To what do I owe this displeasure?"

"Hilarious," he replies in a flat tone, before pushing himself off the wall and walking alongside you. "We're partners for Binns' essay. We have to make some sort of plan for the assignment."

You know he is right, and you curse yourself for not being the first one to reach out. "We are both finished with classes for the day. We can go to the library and find the books we need right now, and then make notes this weekend. Next week, we can meet a few times before it's due on Friday to write and edit the paper."

Sirius seems fine with this plan, and you hate how pleased you feel from his approval. He takes a moment to ponder your idea, running a hand through his long, shiny hair, and you find yourself admiring how it gleams in the sun.

"Okay," he finally says, jolting you from your daydream, "works for me. Let's go."

"That's all?" you ask with surprise. "No jibes?"

But he has already started walking towards the library, his long legs giving him an enormous stride that has you jogging to keep up. "Plenty of time for that."

~~~

You both manage to find several helpful books for your essay fairly quickly, and soon you start flipping through them to mark the relevant sections. When you reach the textbook on Magical Relations throughout History, you find a chapter on notable wizard families and become intrigued. As if in autopilot, you flip to the page with your family name and begin scanning over the names, when Sirius comes up next to you and grabs the book from under your face.

"What's got you so hooked?" he asks, looking at the page you were on.

"Give it here," you command, your voice wavering slightly. He doesn't notice.

"Ah, the y/l/n family!" he exclaims, before diving into the content and listing the most recent wizards in chronological order.

Each name feels like an electric shock and you can feel it getting harder to breathe as your lungs struggle to pull air in. When he starts reading the names of your parents, you rush forward and snatch the book back, snapping it closed.

He looks taken aback and anger shoots through you, replacing the discomfort and embarrassment. "How would you feel if I went through your family history?"

Sirius clenches his jaw, his nose flaring with enmity. "How is that the same? Your family has done vile, awful things, and I bet you can't wait to join them!"

He really thought you were just like them. How could he not see how your family went against the very essence of who you were?

But you didn't have the energy to fight him anymore. "Yeah, you're right. Because you obviously know everything about me."

He shakes his head, rubbing a hand over his face. "What are you on about?"

He looks like a puppy with his bewildered expression and suddenly you can't decide whether you want to punch him or shake him. You settle for a "Whatever, Black" before tossing the book onto the table and stalking out of the library.

Your hair blows behind you as you pass by Sirius, and he finds himself wishing he could reach out and run his fingers through the velvety strands. You were striking when you were angry and it was the most infuriating and confusing mix of emotions he had ever experienced.

~~~

The weekend passes quickly and when Monday arrives, you both work on your halves of the essay in silence. You catch yourself glancing up at Sirius a few times, and you can't help but admire his steely focus on the work at hand. His intellect and work ethic are two of the few things you admire about him, after all.

Your eyes are falling shut when you check the time and see that you've been working for hours. You close your ink pot and stuff your parchment into your bag as you get ready to leave.

You are carefully putting away your quills when you hear Sirius' voice, quiet over the crackle of the fireplace. "Why are you in Slytherin if you don't actually care for your family?"

It was the same question you heard all the time, from every direction. Why are you in Slytherin if you hate your family so much, y/n? No one ever asked why Slytherin was associated with such darkness, when it stood for so much more than that.

Glaring at him, you force the memories down and spit out the first ill-chosen remarks you can muster. "Maybe I do care. Maybe I am exactly what you believe! I don't give a fuck what you think about me, Black, so leave me the hell alone."

You start to leave the room as he retorts, "You disgust me."

A humorless laugh escapes from your mouth and you pause for only a moment before exiting the study room. "Back at you."

Sirius is left stunned, his mouth practically hanging open in shock and confusion. Your words were filled with poison, but your voice had contained something he couldn't quite place. He doesn't allow himself to think about it, instead leaving the study room and heading back to Gryffindor tower to get ready for quidditch practice.

The weather is dreadful, souring Sirius' mood even further, but somehow James is his usual chipper self. They scrimmage for a bit, before James parks himself by the goal posts to chat with Sirius about his latest interactions with Lily.

"She laughed at one of my jokes today," James muses, his tone joyful as he gesticulates wildly, balancing on his broom with irritating ease. "I could listen to her laugh for the rest of my life."

Sirius is only half listening, unable to turn his thoughts away from your earlier outburst. He wished that he could crawl inside your mind and understand everything about you, but that impulse was at war with his righteous desire to distance himself from you at any cost. He's considering his choices when he hears a deep voice yell from across the pitch.

"Oi, Black, Potter, I don't pay you tosspots to just sit around and chat!" Frank Longbottom barks out, squinting through the rain.

"Er, Frank," Sirius hesitantly responds, "you don't pay us at all."

"And your point is...?"

James clears his throat and speaks up before Sirius has the chance to get them into trouble. "Sorry, Longbottom, we were just discussing Saturday's match plan against Hufflepuff."

Frank nods and flies off, forcing James to actually do his job as chaser. Sirius shakes his head vigorously, trying to shake off the rain and his thoughts of you, before resuming his station in front of the goal posts. The rest of practice slogs along, and by the time Frank finally lets the team head back inside, they are all drenched.

Sirius can feel the cold deep in his bones and he sheds off his quidditch gear the moment he enters the boys dormitories. Racing to the shower before James can get back from talking to Frank, he turns the water as hot as it can go and steps under the scalding spray. He audibly sighs as the chill in his veins dissipates, and he leans against the tile as the water cascades over him.

The water also helps melt some of the stress that has seeped into his bones, but it's not enough. Quidditch and school and his family and that damn essay. Everything in his life recently has been building the knot of tension in his gut and he needs to relieve it.

His hand slides down and he palms his length lightly, working it slowly before gripping it in his hand. His cock grows, aching with need, and he starts moving his hand, massaging his shaft with slow strokes. Wet heat zings up his spine, and he leans his head back against the wall, quickening the pace of his movements.

He feels the coil tighten in his abdomen and he rubs his thumb over the tip to bring him closer, but suddenly the pleasure stagnates. He clenches his fist harder, but the wave feels far away, taunting him as he tries and fails to crest it. Sirius groans in frustration, turning around to lean his forehead against the tile. His hand grasps his cock again, but this time a reprehensible thought enters his mind and burrows into his subconscious.

This time it's your hand gripping him instead. He's so desperate for release that he allows himself to give in to the fantasy, and suddenly you're in front of him, taking his length in your slender fingers. Your lips curve into a cheeky smirk and you sink to your knees in front of him as he watches you in awe. He can feel you lick a flat stripe up his shaft and he groans, heat surging through him again. When you finally suck him into your mouth, he thinks he may come on the spot, but he squeezes his eyes shut, trying to prolong the sensation. You swirl your tongue around the head of his cock and he can almost imagine your scent as he thrusts up into his own hand, wishing it was yours instead.

He knows he should stop this — he shouldn't even have allowed himself to begin — but it feels so good. So good that he can't bear to imagine what it would have felt like had it been real.

One final thrust brings him to his release and he gasps into the shower wall, pressing his forearm against the tile to keep himself upright. The moment the pleasure ends and his brain clears of its fog, a waterfall of shame washes over him. Sirius scrubs his body with soap, hoping to rid himself of his guilt, but even after he has washed and dried himself, the feeling remains.

He breathes a sigh of relief when he finds that James has yet to return from talking to Longbottom, and he clambers into his bed, pulling the curtains closed around him. He doesn't emerge from his bed until late the next morning, just in time to rush to his first class.

He thanks the heavens that he doesn't share any classes with you today, and he goes through his day in a daze, not fully focusing on any of his subjects. You, on the other hand, are rampaging through the halls with a reignited enmity. You can't get your last argument with Sirius out of your head, and you've been forcing yourself to push down your fury all day.

By the time you finish your last class of the day, you are heading back to the Slytherin dungeon when you spot Sirius ducking into an empty classroom. After a whole day of tamping down your emotions, just the sight of him makes your cheeks flush with anger. Against your better judgment, you stalk forward and follow him into the room.

Sirius turns back in surprise when he hears you enter, but it quickly turns to exasperation and something that looks like abashment. "What the hell are you doing here? Can no one get some bloody peace and qui—"

"Why do you so easily assume that you know me?" you spit out, your volume a bit louder than you would've liked. "You constantly insist upon inserting yourself in my life, but you don't take the time to even try to understand me!"

His expression suddenly grows darker and he scoffs, "Because I do know you. Our families are the same. We grew up with the same upbringing, and I don't even have to look past my own bloody family tree to find a dozen examples of how that turns out."

He looks so sure of himself that you have to fight off the urge to wrap your hands around his neck and strangle him. Taking a step forward, you can't stop yourself from raising your voice even further. "You're so infuriating! How can anyone stand to be around you?"

Sirius barks out a laugh, taking another step closer, "You're not exactly a cakewalk either, sweetheart."

His last words bring him that much closer to you, and suddenly you can feel the warmth of his breath on your face. You peer up at him hesitantly, frightened by the fact that this proximity to Sirius Black isn't scaring you off. Instead, you almost feel emboldened, and you find yourself leaning in slightly, enjoying the way his breath hitches when the wisps of your hair tickle his chin. You see his eyes flutter closed as he inhales slowly, as if trying to remain still, and you tilt your head back to—

The door creaks open and you both fly apart, but not fast enough. Remus enters slowly, his head peeking inside as his eyes widen with astonishment.

"Oh bugger, sorry," Remus exclaims, turning around to leave the classroom.

"It's fine," Sirius says emphatically, as if he's trying to convince more than just Remus. "Nothing's going on."

You can't stand the awkwardness, so you mutter a quick "gotta go" to Remus, before jetting out the door.

Sirius watches you leave, internally kicking himself for letting you get under his skin like this. He was no stranger to wanting — or being wanted by — women, but this was something different. Something that brought out a longing from within him that he had no hope of understanding.

"Is this why you've been acting so weird recently?" Remus asks, looking at Sirius pointedly. "Because you fancy her or something?"

Sirius flashes him an incredulous look, hoping it's more convincing than it feels to him. "Pff, shut up, Moony."

Remus purses his lips, clearly not believing a word he's saying, but he thankfully lets the subject drop. "Well, anyway, I heard your voice from outside and I thought I'd let you know that James was looking for you. Something about getting to quidditch practice early..."

Sirius groans good-naturedly, secretly excited about the prospect of relieving his frustration through a nice scrimmage. Grabbing his book bag, he follows Remus out of the classroom and heads down to the quidditch pitch.

~~~

Sirius doesn't know what to think about you anymore, and he is only more confused when he hears your voice in a side corridor on the way to Transfiguration the next day. He stays hidden around the corner, but manages to catch the end of your conversation with Snape.

"Why do you get off on hurting people, Severus?" you ask, your voice dripping with venom. "You're a fucking blood purist who's tarnishing the Slytherin name with your outdated and disgusting ideologies."

"Don't bother yourself with my so-called ideologies, y/n," he sneers, and Sirius pulls his wand out in case there's an altercation.

You scoff and Sirius is surprised at the pride he feels at the sight of you standing up to Snape. "Slytherin stands for cleverness and ambition, not for ruthlessness and cruelty. You and your lot have given us an awful reputation just for existing and I'm bloody tired of seeing you all prancing around these halls like you care about what it means to be here!"

Sirius hears the swish of your robes, and he backs up behind a gargoyle statue right before you turn the corner and strut past him. A warmth fills his chest and he swallows thickly, trying to place what he's feeling. He saw a different person in you everyday and each time he spoke to you, he never knew what he was getting himself into. You were the least predictable person he had ever met, and god help him, he liked that about you.

The rest of your essay work sessions occur in a similar fashion to the first, and Sirius doesn't mention what he heard. You are more than content working in silence, but something feels off between the two of you, and you hate how much you miss the way it used to be. The banter and the jibes and the rivalry.

Peeking up at him through your loosely hanging hair, you see him chewing the back of his quill, his brow furrowed tightly into a small 'v'. Curling your hand into a fist, you resist the urge to press your fingers into the worry lines on his forehead and smooth them out. He really was beautiful when he worked, his eyes burning with focus and determination. Pursing your lips, you push the thought away and continue writing the last few paragraphs of your paper.

~~~

The day of Slughorn's party arrives quickly and you are frantically getting ready with your friends after turning in your part of the essay for Binns' class. You were relieved to be done with the project, but it would be remiss to say that you didn't miss seeing Sirius outside of class hours. You finish up your makeup and adjust the thin straps of your black, floor-length gown, before pulling on your shawl and heading out.

In the Gryffindor boys' dormitories, Sirius and Remus are wrestling their ties on, with James flopped on his bed, timing them to see who can tie theirs first. Remus wins by a hair, and Sirius plops down next to James, a playful frown on his face.

"Get up, you tosser," James laughs, pushing Sirius off the bed. "You'll wrinkle your suit."

"This is why we keep you around, Prongs," Sirius grins, smoothing his shirt down before patting Remus on the back. "So that you can teach us the ways of your posh upbringing."

"Fuck you," James replies, a smile creeping onto his face. "Anyway, you lot better head to the party. Don't want to be too late."

"But don't forget, James," Remus mocks, grinning pointedly at Sirius, "the party doesn't begin until Padfoot arrives!"

"Right you are," Sirius hoots, before saying a quick goodbye to Peter and pulling Remus through the door with him.

Somehow, they are still in the first batch of people to arrive, and they occupy themselves by grabbing champagne flutes from the passing waiters.

"Bit stuffy, isn't it?" Remus mutters, taking a sip from his glass.

Sirius nods, downing the whole glass before grabbing another flute. "We'll chat up some of the professors then head out early."

"Works for me."

Remus starts scanning the room to see if he can spot Madam Pince, and just as Sirius brings the champagne to his lips, he sees you walk in.

His hand freezes in mid-air and he can't take his eyes off of you no matter how hard he tries to look away. You look ravishing in a long, black gown and your hair cascades down your back in a gleaming waterfall. Just when Sirius starts to regain the mobility of his hand, you slide off your shawl and the sharp curves of your collarbone shimmer under the candlelight.

"Have fun with that," Remus whispers, his tone laced with humor, before patting him on the back and walking off to speak with Professor Slughorn.

You don't notice him at first, but after you hand your shawl to someone working by the door, you peer up to see Sirius Black staring at you, his mouth slightly agape. When he sees you looking back at him, he looks at the ceiling and swallows a large gulp of champagne. You know something is different between you two, but there was no way you were going to be the first to address it. Spotting one of your friends from class, you head over to join their conversation.

Sirius had always known you were beautiful but he had never let himself truly see it before tonight. Before you had winced at the sight of your family's atrocities, and stood up to Snape when he was being exactly who Sirius thought you were. He had been so wrong all this time.

Spotting you across the room, he tightens his tie and pushes himself off of the counter he was leaning against. Head held high, he saunters over to where you are laughing with your friends and stops right in front of you. You look up at him in shock, which quickly turns to uneasiness. "What do you want, Black?"

He looks you straight in the eyes, his attention refusing to waver, as he says simply, "Dance with me."

Your expression is filled with skepticism and something else he can't decipher, but to his surprise, you take his hand. He pulls you up from your seat and leads you to the other side of the room, where a quartet is playing music. The song they are playing is a bit fast-paced for slow dancing, but when Sirius shoots them a look, they immediately transition into a slower melody.

"Impressive," you say jokingly, acutely noticing the moment his hand moves to rest on your waist.

He smiles softly and you both dance in silence until Sirius turns his gaze back to you, piercing you with his eyes in a way that always got you flustered.

"Thank heavens that essay is over," he states, his lips curving slightly. "I missed our little class rivalry."

You nod slowly, relieved that he is voicing exactly what you've been feeling. "It's not as fun when we're on the same side."

He's silent again for a few moments, before he pulls you a bit closer in his arms and scrutinizes your face in an annoyingly charming way. "But we are, aren't we? On the same side."

His statement catches you by surprise, you don't know what to say. You can't seem to break the eye contact you've been sharing and heat travels down your spine at his languid gaze. You almost wish you could go back to when he didn't look too hard into your life, but a part of you knows that this is a good different.

Before you can lose your nerve, you sigh and whisper, "Yes...we are."

You can feel your cheeks flush with heat, but you don't want to take your eyes away from him, afraid that if you look away, you will lose this connection that has somehow developed in the midst of your silent war. You instead choose to focus on how long his eyelashes are, practically casting shadows on his cheekbones as he gazes down at you.

Sirius notices the moment your skin begins to flush and he has to tighten his grip on your waist to keep his breath steady. Every point of contact between the two of you burns with unbridled possibility, and his usual confidence wavers as he fixates on the pink spreading across your cheeks. He can't imagine how you couldn't know the effect you have on him, and he slowly pulls you in closer to gauge your reaction.

You gasp slightly when your chest presses against his, and for a second, you completely forget that you are supposed to be dancing. Your sudden pause disrupts Sirius' rhythm and before you can readjust, he is inches away from you, his chest heaving.

"Let's get out of here," Sirius whispers, his voice husky.

You're so caught off guard that you lose the ability to speak, opting for a quick nod that ignites something in his eyes. He slips a hand behind your lower back and leads you off the dance floor, guiding you into the hallway. When he finds an isolated stairwell, you finally regain your bearings and press him against the stone wall, reveling in the sudden burst of courage. Sirius looks back at you mischievously, and you immediately kiss the smirk off of his face.

You hear him mutter a quick invisibility charm under his breath and you can't help but be vexed that he thought of it faster than you did. When you part his lips with your tongue, he groans under his breath, and the sound sends heat rushing down your abdomen. Filled with a newfound confidence, you bite his lip teasingly, before yanking on his tie to loosen it.

"Holy shit," Sirius exhales, leaning back against the wall while you unbutton his shirt, completely letting you have your way with him. Ever since that night in the showers, he has imagined this moment incessantly, but something told him that the real thing was about to me infinitely better.

You grip his lapels, trying to pull him closer and closer, and he obliges, wrapping his arm around your body as he lifts you to sit on the ledge beside him. His lips are so much softer than you could've imagined, and he presses feverish kisses along your jaw, setting you instantly ablaze. This moment is everything you wanted it to be and you feel heat pool in your belly as his hands begin to ride down, shifting the hem of your dress higher.

The image of the two of you here, together, is so wild and unexpected that you almost can't believe it's even happening. You must have spoken out loud, because Sirius smirks against your skin and says, "What? You can't believe you're alone in a stairwell with the top of your class?"

You pull back immediately, sputtering, "Wha- what? Top of the class, my ass!" when you see a grin cross Sirius' face.

"What?" you ask, your mouth scrunching into a small pout.

"You're never gonna stop arguing with me, are you?"

You press your lips together, unsure of what he's getting at, "...No."

His grins widens and he pulls you forward into another searing kiss. "Good."

Your chest bubbles with satisfaction that quickly turns primal when Sirius starts bunching up your gown. He hikes up your dress slowly, allowing you plenty of time to change your mind; when you don't, he slides your panties to the side and enters you swiftly with a lithe finger.

You gasp at the contact, your back arching into his body, and he can't help the grin that crosses his face at your response. Just the feeling of your warm heat makes his pants tighten with desire, and he has to clutch the silky material of your dress to keep himself from reaching down and undoing his belt buckle. You look so beautiful under him, and he wishes he could commit this image to his memory forever.

You lean your head back against the cool stained glass behind you, and Sirius dips down to run his tongue up the smooth expanse of your exposed neck. Just when the heat is almost too much, he sucks the skin on your pulse point, sending shock waves of pleasure coursing through you. He adds another finger and you cry out in ecstasy, grabbing onto his open shirt for some sort of stability. The motion of his fingers combined with the warmth of his lips brings you so close, but right when you are about to feel the release, he pulls his fingers out.

"Fuck," you exclaim, your eyes widening in disbelief. "I was so close!"

Sirius ignores you, tugging his pants down quickly and unsheathing his thick shaft. "You're not coming unless it's on my cock."

A ferocious desire courses through you and he swears he has died and gone to heaven when he sees how your eyes sparkle with lust. You nod immediately, and he yanks your panties off fully before lining himself up with your entrance. You brace yourself, but it's not enough to prepare you for the feeling of his hard cock splitting you open. You can feel every inch of him as he pushes into you, refusing to stop until he's fully seated within you.

Sirius can't believe how good you feel around him, and he forces himself to allow you a second to adjust before he starts moving. As soon as he begins thrusting into you, white hot pleasure curls up your spine, wrenching out moan after moan from deep inside your throat. You had thought about this moment so many times, but nothing could compare to this. This connection you felt with him that was slowly setting you ablaze.

The sight of you beneath him triggers an animalistic response, and Sirius suddenly has the intense desire to mark your pristine skin. He wants to see the column of your throat littered with bruises to show the world that you had been his.

Sirius brings his hand down, his fingers splaying across your throat, before he tightens them around your neck. Your eyes widen with surprise that quickly turns to hunger, and he squeezes until he can feel your pulse beneath his fingertips. Just when it starts to become too much, he loosens his hold and tilts your head back, lifting your body up to meet his. The change in angle has him hitting the perfect spot deep inside of you, and your eyes roll back from bliss.

You are already gasping with pleasure before he begins nipping at the skin behind your ear, slowly making him way down your neck. You know the marks will be hard to hide, but you can't bring yourself to care. Soon the knot of pressure in your abdomen starts tightening and you know you're getting close, so you reach your hand down to touch yourself.

Sirius' thrusts start to falter a bit as he gets closer to the edge, but he can feel your walls closing in around him, so he quickens his movements. The spicy scent of your perfume turns his brain fuzzy and he bites down on the hollow of your collarbone as another pang of possessiveness washes over him. The sensation sends you flying over the edge and the feeling of you tightening around him brings him to his release shortly after.

When you finally come down from the high, you are both out of breath, your chests heaving. You immediately start looking for your panties, and Sirius pulls his shirt back over his shoulders, buttoning up his pants. You are about to turn away when Sirius reaches over to cup your cheek, bringing you up to face him again.

"You're beautiful," he mutters, his thumb absently stroking your jaw as he looks at you with a familiar glint in his eyes. "I was so wrong about you, and if only I had known—"

"Then what?" you ask, your expression turning into one of disbelief, yet longing. "Then we could have been together? Come on, Black, you know we never would've worked out."

You say the last words with a small smile, which Sirius eventually returns. "Yeah, I guess you're right. You never would've been able to keep up with me anyways."

"Wha-" you sputter, "excuse me?"

But Sirius is already laughing. You're so incredulous that you don't realize what he is doing until he pulls you forward into a quick kiss before whispering, "See you in class, y/n."

Taglist: @regulusblackswhorecrux @distortionbobble

#sirius black smut #young!sirius black smut #sirius black x reader #young!sirius black x reader #sirius black x fem!reader #sirius black x f!reader #sirius black x slytherin!reader #slytherin!reader #sirius black #harry potter smut #marauders #marauders smut #remus lupin #james potter #jily #snape #fem!reader #fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction

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earthtoharlow · 30 days

Note

Maryse doesn’t love one of Jacks new songs but doesn’t know how to tell him because she doesn’t want to hurt his feelings 😔

Main Masterlist

Jack and Maryse were the only ones left in the studio as Nickie Jon had left hours ago. Jack was working on a new track and he wanted to get Maryse’s opinion on it because in his head, hers was the only one that mattered.

Jack was biting his nails nervously as he watched her listen to the song. For once he couldn’t get a reading out of her.

As the last notes faded away, the silence in the studio was very loud. Jack searched for any sign of approval but Maryse's expression was blank and she was avoiding his gaze.

He could sense something was wrong. “What do you think, babe?” he asked, his voice laced with uncertainty.

Maryse hesitated, trying to search for the right words. “It’s…different,” she finally said, her tone carefully neutral.

Jack frowned. Different wasn’t the reaction he was hoping for. “Different how?” he pressed, wanting her to explain further.

She shifted uncomfortably, struggling to articulate her thoughts without hurting him. “Well, it’s just…not what I expected,” Maryse replied softly, choosing her words with care.

“You hate it.” Jack said with a pout and turned in his chair towards the soundboard.

Maryse got up from her seat on the coach and climbed onto his lap. “No baby, I don't hate it. I just think you should rework it. The beat sounds good..” She tried to explain.

Jack just groaned, sliding his hands up her sweatshirt that she most likely stole from him and laid his head in her chest.

“Well, maybe it’ll grow on you,” he mumbled, loudly enough so she could hear him.

Maryse shook her head slightly. “Maybe? But I don’t think “I bet Lil Nas X would fuck me if I let him” will ever grow on me babe.”

Jack couldn’t help but look at Maryse and laugh before pulling her closer and pressing a kiss to her lips.

“It’s okay to admit you’re jealous.”

Maryse laughed and rolled her eyes at him. “In your fucking dreams, white boy!”

She jumped in his lap and squealed when Jack pinched her sides in response.

#jack harlow #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow x y/n #jack harlow fanfic #jack harlow fluff #flashing lights #flashing lights concepts #vanwritesfan-fiction

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offside-the-lines · 4 months

Text

Am I Ready (To Be Loved) | Nathan MacKinnon

Summary: Nate is not known to be impulsive, especially when it comes to love. So what happens when he gets a crazy idea while hungover the day after the Avalanche Stanley Cup parade. a/n: Happy Holidays folks! My first fic back (on this new blog) is a reworking of a fic I wrote for my Winter Prompt request last year (for @fallinallincurls). Thought I needed to start somewhere. This is obviously set in 2022 because I can't stand the idea of the avs squad being different. It also features some of our fave tropes. Pairing: Nathan McKinnon x Female!OC Words: 8K Warnings: alcohol Requests: Open | Masterlist

Charlotte hated these fancy functions. The schmoozing and the small talk were things that made her feel like she was going to crawl out of her skin. No matter how much she would normally enjoy conversation, this just felt fake. And she knew how ridiculous it was. She worked in media. She was always in front of cameras. She took this job knowing this was a requirement. It doesn’t change the truth that, at her core, she would rather be on the couch watching some TV show on Netflix.

Although this wasn’t the first formal event she’d ever been to, this was the first Colorado Avalanche donors’ function. It didn’t help that she had only been working as a correspondent for Altitude TV for a few months; so many knew her name and her face, but no one really knew her personally. So, it was just smile, small talk, comment on the Avs, rinse and repeat.

After an hour or so of this, she was feeling done. Heading to the bar for a drink and found a cocktail table in the corner of the room, tucked near the obscenely large Christmas Tree, where she could just stand and watch. Charlotte looked around the room and wondered how long she had to stay before it was not inappropriate to leave.

“Hate these parties too, eh?” a familiar voice rang beside her.

Despite her shattered solitude, the voice brought out a smile on her face. “What do you mean? I don’t hate this?” she replied, not putting in much effort to hide the sarcasm in her voice. She turned to face the voice and the sight almost startled her a little as she felt her face warm. There stood Nathan Mackinnon in his perfectly tailored navy suit, eyes shining in the dim lighting. She takes a drink quickly to distract herself, reminding herself to be a professional.

“Sure,” he chuckled, “hiding in a dark corner isn’t avoiding the party, Charlotte.”

She shrugs as she turns her eyes back to the party.

“Don’t worry,” he whispers in her ear, making her neck tingle a little, “I really don’t like these parties either. I would rather be at home on the couch with my dog watching TV.”

As he leaned back to sip his drink, she turned to him in surprise. “Oh yeah? Like what? More hockey tape?”

After a bit of light banter, they find that they have the same favorite show, much to Charlotte’s surprise. In the dim corner of a fancy event, they are quoting their favorite lines to each other, trying their hardest not to burst out laughing, hiding themselves behind their drinks so as to not draw too much attention at such a fancy event. Charlotte’s laughing so hard she snorts a little, causing Nate to look at her in surprise before continuing to laugh even harder, drawing some looks from the donors and teammates closest to them. After a while, when they both finally calm down, she feels herself relax a little.

They stood in a comfortable silence for a few more moments before Nate spoke up again. “You know, Charlotte. You ask me questions all the time, but I don’t think I really know anything about you other than your name and your job title.”

“I mean, I only really ever ask you questions about the game or the team,” she responds.

“Yeah, but I’m sure you already know everything there is to know about me,” he said pointedly, but softly. He had a point; it was her job to know as much about the players as possible.

“Okay, I know about NHL Hockey Player, Avs’ Center, Forward Extraordinaire Nathan “Nate the Dogg” Mackinnon,” she says, flashing her hands in front as if to signal an imaginary banner, “I don’t know Nate “a dude who sits on his couch with his dog watching dumb shows” Mackinnon.”

“Alright, that’s fair,” he responds deep in thought. “Fine, how about we play 20 questions? You ask me a question; I ask you a question.”

“How very high school, Nathan,” she pauses to think about it. She wasn’t really sure how to feel about this new friendship. On the one hand, it is her job to get to know the players. Although, she was pretty sure that the fraternizing was only supposed to be in professional contexts. On the other hand, her heart was beating so hard that she could hear the blood rushing in her ears. And at the end of the day, it was Nathan Mackinnon, and he wanted to get to know her. Besides, she knew that he didn’t really date anyway, so she felt safe that there was one of them keeping their feelings in check. Eventually, she responds with a nod, “Sure.”

“Okay!” He said excitedly, his blue eyes lighting up, “Where are you from? Where did you grow up and go to college and stuff?”

“Nathan, that’s two questions. Should I deduct points from you?”

“There are points now?”

“I’m just kidding.”

And so, they went back and forth getting to know each other, talking animatedly, and laughing heartily, until they got through the 20 questions each. At one point, they had migrated to a table to continue sitting down because Nate noticed she was shifting on her feet from the heels. Charlotte was pretty certain that Nate now knew her better than anyone else in Denver.

Eventually, EJ came over and tapped Nate on the shoulder at which point she looked up and realized that most of his teammates and donors had left and they were a few of the last people remaining in the event space.

“Hey,” EJ smiled at you in his signature toothless way, “good to see you’re having fun, Charlotte.”

“Thanks, EJ,” she smiled back.

“Mac Daddy, you’re kind of my ride home, so… are you ready to leave?” EJ said laughing and looked at Charlotte, “I don’t think I’ve ever had to pull Nathan here away from a party before. He is usually begging me to leave.”

Nate bumped his elbow into EJ, not drawing much of a response, as he quickly looked away from her. She could have sworn his cheeks were turning a little pink, but that could also be the lighting.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s late and I want to be up for morning skate tomorrow, unlike you lazy idiots,” Nathan grumbled standing up.

She stood up too, only now realizing how tired you were. “Yeah, damn, it’s late. Well, I had a great time talking to you Nathan,” sending him a warm smile and a nod, “EJ. See you two later.”

As she started walking away, she heard some whispers behind her before Nate called out, “Hey, Charlotte, you good to get home? I mean, do you need a ride?”

“Oh, um… Actually… Sure. That would be nice. Thanks!”

She saw EJ whisper something in Nate’s ear before he was quickly shoved away. Suddenly feeling awkward, she trailed behind them quietly to Nate’s car. As soon as it was in sight, EJ called shotgun and started making a run for it, slipping a little on the ice, making Charlotte and Nate snort with laughter.

Nate offered a hand to guide her across the slippery ground and opened the car door for her, keeping his hand on her as she climbed in. She directed Nate to her apartment, thanking him and EJ quickly as she left. Once she got into her apartment, Charlotte leaned against the door and just smiled for a bit.

* * *

Meanwhile, in the car, EJ was basically yelling at Nate.

“Dude, you dog, what was that?”

“EJ, stop.”

“No, I’m serious. I’ve never seen you talk to someone for that long. Not even Barrie or Sid.”

“She was easy to talk to. And it was a good way to get through the event.”

“Nate, don’t give me that bullshit.” EJ’s voice is rarely serious, but it is now.

“I don’t know what to tell you, dude.” Nate shrugged.

The rest of the ride to EJ’s house is quiet and as Nate pulled into the driveway, EJ finally spoke up again, “Tell me you at least got her number.”

“Shit,” Nate let out under his breath before he could stop himself.

“Oh my god, you idiot. You didn’t get her number.”

Nate let out a groan and tapped his forehead firmly on his steering wheel in frustration. As EJ shook his head, and said his goodbyes, Nate’s head was whirring with thoughts. There was no smooth way to ask for her number now. It’s like he missed an exit on the freeway and there was no way off now. The alcohol and the adrenaline meant he didn’t sleep much that night and, for the first time in a very long time, he didn’t make it to the optional morning skate, much to the surprise of everyone.

The rest of the season flew by as the team soared through the playoffs. Nate kept thinking about ways to ask Charlotte for her number but just couldn’t stop overthinking it and psyching himself out; eventually deciding to table the topic until after the season was over to focus on the Cup. But he reveled in every intermission or postgame interview where they got to talk, or the little conversations they would get to have in the arena or on the plane. Occasionally, he’d even slip in a hug, taking in her perfume, under the guise of celebration.

The gossip had now spread through the group — not surprising since EJ has never once kept a secret — and had been an ongoing chirp for Nate. It didn’t help that at the two galas since, Nate was the first one there excitedly scanning the room, but Charlotte wasn’t at either. He’d learn she was covering the Nuggets or the Rapids those nights and would then leave as early as possible.

It got even harder to not think about her as he neared the end of the season, where every phone call with his mom would eventually turn to his cousin’s wedding in the summer and whether he was going to bring a date. Family weddings were the one time he felt he couldn’t leave early, forcing himself to endure the suffering that was being single in your late twenties and watching people be in love. Not to mention all the comments and questions: wanting gossip, wanting a date, feeling sorry for him.

* * *

Charlotte was happy with the casual platonic friendship that she had found with Nate. She always looked forward to talking with him at games because he was always more relaxed with her than the other boys, even occasionally giving her a sweaty hug after a good, exciting win. Her co-workers had made some comments about how unusual it was, but she just chalked it up to them knowing each other better now.

The job kept her busy, busier than anticipated. And it felt like the year had flown by before she found herself at the celebration gala for the newly crowned Stanley Cup Champions. The atmosphere was different from the last event she had been to. That one was for schmoozing. This was only for celebrating. The energy in the room was intoxicating and she had a big smile plastered to her face as soon as she walked in.

Charlotte made her way through the crowd and congratulated everyone she saw and recognized. Eventually, she stumbled into Gabe.

“Congratulations, Gabe!” you yelled.

“Lotteee! Thank you!” he yelled back, pulling her in for a tight hug before spinning her around. He was so drunk, but he did look unbelievably happy. When he finally put her down, he grabbed her by the arm and very dramatically whispered in her ear while pointing, “Nate’s that way.”

She looked at him confused and surprised, but he didn’t let her say anything before not so gently pushing her towards Nate. And she didn’t protest, because when she finally saw him, she felt her heart speed up again. He looked jubilant, swaying slightly with EJ, face pink and hair messy. She had learned over the last month or so that she really liked the way he looked with the playoff beard.

Charlotte wasn’t sure whether to disturb whatever EJ and Nate were doing, but once EJ saw her, he let out a screech so loud she had no choice but to turn toward them. “Charlotte! Lotte! Lott Ness Monster! Come here!” But once you got here, he immediately left, vanishing to leave her standing in front of the very flushed Nathan Mackinnon.

“Hi Nathan, congratulations! Well deserved. It’s been an absolute privilege watching you this season,” she said, unsure what to do as her heart kept racing faster at the way drunk Nate was looking at her.

“Oh, stop with that professional speech and give me a hug,” he slurred, pulling her in tightly.

She chuckled and let herself enjoy the warmth and the firm contours of his body against her before forcing herself to pull away. He only let her get so far, leaving one arm still wrapped around her shoulders.

“It’s nice to see you enjoying yourself at an event like this,” she said softly.

“Well, I had to! You weren’t at the last two of these, so I had to find a way to entertain myself with EJ,” he said, pouting. She had certainly never seen him pout, but she was even more surprised that he noticed and cared.

“Oh! Yeah, I had work. Sorry.”

“I know. Who even cares about the Nuggets.” he mumbled under his breath before throwing his head back and yelling a quick “GO AVS!” that was followed by a loud round of cheers. After a few seconds, he piped up excited again, “Are you enjoying yourself today?”

“Um… I think so! It’s nice to see everyone so happy and energetic.” Her eyes scanned the crowd, smiling until she caught Gabe and EJ staring and pointing at them. Before she had the chance to ask Nate what that was about, he was pulling her towards Mikko on the other side of the room.

The rest of the night passed in a blur of drinks, laughs, and the warm firm feeling of Nate’s arm around her shoulders. With each passing drink, she found herself leaning into it more. She was sure her face was so red that it rivaled JT’s hair. But if the boys noticed, which they were too drunk to notice, they didn’t mention it. And even if they did, she doesn’t remember.

* * *

The next morning Nate woke up with the worst hangover of his life. He had collapsed on top of all his sheets fully naked, and so he also woke up with a slight feeling of shame and dread at what he might have done the night before. When he finally reached over to check his phone, it was blowing up with messages.

gabe the babe (INCOMING): dude did nate finally hook up with the lott ness monster

JT (INCOMING): omg nate, you have to tell us if you did

mooseman (INCOMING): he definitely did, did you not see how he literally didn’t stop touching her the whole night

Nate buried his head in his sheets and groaned, trying to rack his brain for memories of himself being an idiot around Charlotte last night. But he was drawing a blank. After minutes, he finally lifted his head again and opened a private text to EJ.

Nate Dogg (OUTGOING): ej, please tell me you remember if I did something stupid last night

EJ (INCOMING): yeah. you did.

Nate Dogg (OUTGOING): FUCK what did I do

EJ (INCOMING): you didn’t take lotte home with you you fucking idiot

Nate Dogg (OUTGOING): what

EJ (INCOMING): you just fucking disappeared in an uber without even saying goodbye. and EYE had to make sure she got home okay

Nate Dogg (OUTGOING): oh, well it could’ve been worse

EJ (INCOMING): HOW

EJ (INCOMING): HOW COULD IT HAVE BEEN WORSE

Nate Dogg (OUTGOING): idk if I did something stupid or said something bad

EJ (INCOMING): dude, you have got to ask her out, you two clearly like each other

Nate Dogg (OUTGOING): i have no idea what you’re talking about. we're just friends. we just work together. like you and me

EJ (INCOMING): YEAH RIGHT DOGG if you were touching me all night like that, we would be having a very different conversation ;)

EJ (INCOMING): please tell me you at least have her number now

Nate paused and thought back to the night before, but it was such a blur he didn’t know. But when he looked in his contacts, her number wasn’t there.

Nate Dogg (OUTGOING): nope

EJ (INCOMING): you are so fucking hopeless. i hope you find a pair at home this summer so you will finally do something about this crush

EJ (INCOMING): or maybe when we come back in the fall, she won’t be so single anymore and it won’t matter

Nate felt his stomach turn and he groaned. The hangover finally hit him but he was typing a sarcastic response when another message interrupted his thought.

Sarah (INCOMING): congrats again bro! are you bringing someone to the wedding?

Nate (OUTGOING): wow, really cutting to the chase this morning.

Nate (OUTGOING): and no.

Sarah (INCOMING): what you’re telling me a stanley cup winner can’t find a date

Nate groaned again and muffled a scream in his pillow. He knew that his sister and mom would not drop this subject from the moment he got home. He knew that they would probably try to set him on dates, or worse introduce him to every single woman at the wedding. He lay there, head on his pillow, for a long time, until finally, he had an absolutely insane idea. An idea that can only come to someone after the happiest day of their life followed by the biggest hangover of their life.

Nate (OUTGOING): fine, I’ll bring someone

Sarah (INCOMING): OH MY GOD WHAT WHO

Sarah (INCOMING): NATHAN RAYMOND MACKINNON IF YOU’VE BEEN DATING SOMEONE THIS WHOLE TIME AND HIDING IT FROM ME, I’LL KILL YOU. I DON’T CARE WHAT YOU’VE WON.

Nate (OUTGOING): nope, not telling

Sarah (INCOMING): you are a child and i hate you

Nate (OUTGOING): I love you. See you soon.

Sarah (INCOMING): URGH

Sarah (INCOMING): Love you too. I’m calling mom.

* * *

Charlotte woke up with a splitting headache and the room spinning at 6 am. And despite how horribly she felt, she couldn’t get back to sleep. She could still feel Nate’s arm on her shoulder, and his lips against her ear as he whispered something unintelligible, and the scent of his cologne lingering on her hair would waft into her memory every few seconds making her heart skip. She was absolutely certain that he was more drunk than she was, and that he was a touchy drunk. She felt even a little guilty for taking advantage of his touchiness, getting as much as she could last night.

After a few hours of being unable to get back to sleep, she peeled herself up and drew herself a bath with a cup of tea. She still wasn’t able to stomach food yet, but she felt her body relaxing in the warm water, finally letting Nate slip from her mind. Eventually, she got up and padded around the house thinking about the long summer ahead. It was her first summer with not a lot of work to do, and since it was her first year in Denver, she also didn’t really know many people or have any concrete plans.

She had just sat down at her computer to research ideas when she heard a buzz on her apartment intercom. She looked down at her phone confused, but there were no texts there from the few friends she had made so far.

“Hello?” she stutters cautiously into the intercom.

“Oh my god, thank fuck,” a familiar voice rang back, “it’s you. I’ve been buzzing every apartment and I swear your neighbors think I’m a crazy person.”

“What?”

“Um. Oh. Sorry, Charlotte. It’s Nate.”

She was stunned silent. Stunned and confused.

“Um… Nathan Mackinnon…” He filled the silence nervously, “You know… From the Avalanche.”

That snapped her out of her trance as a laugh bubbled out of her. “Oh my god Nathan, I know who you are. Sorry. I was just confused. How do you know where I live?”

“Um, well when we first met, I dropped you off here. So, I made the gamble that you still lived here and just buzzed every apartment to see.”

“Oh. Wow,” she says, stunned, confused and flattered, “Um, is everything okay?”

“Ah, yeah.” He paused. “You know, I just realized how dumb this was. I’m really sorry to disturb you—”

“No!” she says louder than she intended, “No, Nathan, wait. Let me buzz you up.”

“Oh, okay, yeah! Thanks!”

She paced around her entryway, thoughts racing. The door knocks still startled her, and as she walked over, she looked down at her sweatpants and realized there definitely was no time to change and prayed she looked okay.

“Hi, Nathan,” she smiled, opening the door, “Um, do you want to come in?”

“Oh, sure,” he hesitates and makes a gesture to hug her before chickening out, pulling away and stepping past her.

“So, what brings you to my humble abode today?”

“Your apartment is cute.”

“Thanks. It’s not NHL superstar level, but it’s pretty good to me.”

He chuckles and leans a hip on the kitchen island, stuffing his hands into his pockets. His eyes were firmly trained on the ground. She wasn’t really sure what to say, so she moved behind him to start making them both some tea. He studies her as she moves around and wonders how it’s possible she looks so good in your sweatpants and messy bun when he feels like his entire guts might just drop out of his body.

Eventually, he spoke up, “Um, so I realized I didn’t have your number.”

This made her laugh, a proper belly laugh. “What,” she manages to get out, “you came all the way here because you don’t have my number.”

“Well…” he hesitates, “Yeah. I mean, I never asked for it I guess.”

“Okay, do you want it now?” she was still laughing.

“Um, yes?” He was shifting on his feet, rubbing his neck with his hand, leaning awkwardly on the countertop.

“Okay,” she reached a hand out.

He looks at her confused and gives it a slap.

“That was for your phone, silly. Not for a five,” she was laughing even harder now. And his cheeks turned bright red as he handed her his phone, not meeting her eyes. She passes the phone back to him along with a cup of tea, “There you go. So… What was the huge rush? You could’ve emailed me or something for it.”

He paused and laughed, “Honestly, I didn’t even think of that. I guess my brain doesn’t work very well when I’m hungover.”

Charlotte took a seat next to him on the kitchen island as they sipped their teas.

After a few minutes, he clears his throat. “Actually, that’s not why I came over. I mean it, but it isn’t the main reason.”

“Okay?” she encouraged.

“I had a really stupid idea and it was stupid at the time, but now I’m here it’s even dumber. So, I’ll just settle for the number.”

“Okay, Nathan, you can’t just say something that cryptic and not tell me.”

His face went bright red again and he shuffled in place. “No, it’s okay.”

“Okay, no. You don’t get to interrupt my hangover recovery and not tell me why.”

He sighed and looked away. After a while, he mumbled under his breath very quickly, “Fine. Icameheretoaskyouifyou’dcometomycousin’swedding.”

“What?” she said, not sure if she misinterpreted the mumbles or if she was dreaming.

“Um… Well, my cousin, back in Nova Scotia, is getting married in a few weeks. And my mom and sister keep bothering me to bring someone. And I just had this stupid idea. Because you’re the only person I’ve had fun with at those big events. So, this morning, in my post-Stanley Cup alcohol delirium I thought Hey, I should ask Charlotte if she wants to help me survive a social event and get my parents off my ass about not having a date? So here I am. But obviously, that was insane. So don’t worry about it.”

Charlotte looked at him, mouth open, in shock for longer than acceptable, and felt her own cheeks redden. A little lightheaded, before she could really stop to think, she responded, “Sure! I mean why not? What’s the harm in me going? I don’t have any plans.”

His head snapped up to meet her eyes for the first time in a few minutes and Charlotte is captivated by the way his sharp blues light up in response. It was when she saw the smile take over his face and her heart sped up that she knew this was probably a huge mistake. But a mistake she didn’t want to take back.

* * *

“So, how long have you two cuties been dating?” the fifth person in a row asked. Charlotte wasn’t sure if this was an aunt or a family friend, but she forced the smile back on her face as she responded.

“Oh, we’re not dating. We work together, kind of.”

The lady looked between the two of them, and Charlotte could feel the hairs on the back of her neck prickle again as she was acutely aware of Nate’s hand resting on her lower back.

“She’s here as my date, yes, but we aren’t dating. We’re just good friends,” he replies gently but firmly, the same way he had been doing all weekend, before changing the subject.

But she was lost in thought. She had been here for a few days, and she had to admit that Nova Scotia was beautiful, and Nate’s family and friends were wonderful. Despite not knowing Nate super well, she had never felt out of place. He had always made sure she was included in conversations, explaining anything that felt like an inside joke. She thought back to all the times she had met a boyfriend’s family — there hadn’t been that many, but enough to know that this was far better than any of them did.

Nate had been awkward and hesitant at first, jumping away every time he touched her by accident on the plane ride over and flinching when their knuckles brushed when he went to help her grab her luggage. But he slowly allowed himself to loosen up a little, reading her lack of discomfort as a good sign. He always prided himself on acting like a gentleman; even though women complained that he was stiff and unromantic, he tried. He found himself putting in an extra effort to hold open the door for her, to pull out a chair for her, to offer an elbow as she walked on the uneven pavement.

If Nate was in his head about every move he made, Charlotte was ten times more in her head. They had only really spent time together at work and work functions. And she wasn’t sure if that’s why something felt different here, more intimate, or if she was just imagining it. She was starting to feel like he was going out of his way to touch her; laying a hand on her knee when they were sitting next to each other, tapping her elbow to show her something, keeping a hand on her back when they were standing.

She had tried her hardest not to lean into his touch every time, but she couldn’t deny the comfort his large hand on her back felt—god, was his hand always this large. It was never too low as to be intrusive; just resting chastely on her mid back to remind her that he was there and was ready to take a break from the socializing at any point.

Whether she was imagining it or not, it was starting to drive her insane. Her skin constantly felt buzzing and hot, tingling in the places he touched, electrified in the places closest to him that craved his touch.

Nate’s low voice in her ear startled her out of her thoughts.

“Hmm?” she responded as she felt her neck and ear flush with the brush of his lips on her ear.

“Oh, I was just asking if you want to go for a walk,” he murmured, “you’re looking a little overwhelmed.”

“Yeah, sure,” she breathed, her voice coming out a little shaky with how close his tall frame was to her.

And so, she reached out and took his extended elbow as they slipped out of the rehearsal dinner and wandered down to the waterfront in silence.

“I can totally see why you love it here,” she finally said.

“Hmm?” he hummed.

“It’s beautiful. The water. With the lights reflecting. And all the beautiful trees. And the fresh air. I can understand why you love coming here in the summer.”

“Yeah, it’s truly something,” he looked over at her with an unreadable expression on his face, but his eyes were warm and soft. It looked like he wanted to say something for a second before he shook his head and looked away. “I’m glad you came with me. You make these big events bearable.”

“Just bearable, Nathan?” she laughed, trying to break the tension in the air she couldn’t really explain. And his chuckles were quick to join hers in the warm summer air.

And just like that, they fell into a comfortable rhythm again, laughing and chatting. Eventually, he walked her back to the hotel and their adjoining rooms.

“Well, here you go, m’lady,” he joked, letting his arm fall from her for the first time in a while. He began to turn towards his room but hesitated for a second before turning back and pulling her into a tight hug. She let herself melt into the hug, embracing the warm buzzing feeling in her chest as she felt his larger frame engulf her. He didn’t let go when she thought he was going to, instead whispering in her ear, “Thank you.”

“Thank me for what, Nathan?”

“For coming with me. For being so good with my family, even though they keep asking intrusive questions. For just being you,” he said, pulling back. They were standing so close together that she could see every shade of blue in his eyes as they looked at her intently. She swore she saw his eyes flicker to her lips briefly before the smallest sharp intake of breath he tried to hide as he untangled from her. She could feel her body ache a little as her cheeks burned.

She didn’t know if it was the glasses of wine or the dizzying tension, but before she could stop herself, she leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. “Of course, Nathan,” she murmured, “good night.” She smiled as she turned away and opened her hotel room door as quickly as possible.

She didn’t dare to take a peek back at him, but if she had, she would have seen his eyes wide, and cheeks flushed in shock. Instead, she quickly ducked into the room, shutting the door behind her, leaning back against the cold wood, and closing her eyes. What the fuck am I doing, she said to herself, Nate is a sweet guy, who I work with. I’m just doing him a favor. And he clearly thinks I’m just a good friend, as he keeps saying to everyone. Get it together.

She walked away and started getting ready for bed. It took her a long time to fall asleep that night, tossing and turning as her mind raced through the moments of the day, all the little touches and glances and the sparkle in Nate’s blue eyes.

* * *

The following day was the wedding, and the morning passed comfortably despite neither of them acknowledging the moment they both wanted to talk about so badly. Soon, she found herself sitting beside him in the church, watching the beautiful bride stand next to her adoring groom.

While the ceremony went on, Nate was having a hard time staying out of his thoughts as the celebrant talked about love and marriage and as the happy couple exchanged adoring words with each other. It was not that he hated weddings, not at all; in fact, he loved them. He loved the celebration and the emotion. But as the years went on, it became a stunning reminder of what he did not have. With every wedding and every failed relationship in between, he felt more alone, like maybe something was wrong with him.

Charlotte noticed that Nate seemed emotional, lost in his thoughts. She had no idea what was going through his mind, but she could sense that he was troubled. At some point during the ceremony, when Nate found himself particularly emotional, he had reached his hand over and grasped hers. She had to try hard to hold back the small gasp that threatened to escape her lips. But seeing his troubled expression, she squeezed his hand. And, inexplicably to her, his hand never left hers, not during the rest of the ceremony, or the walk over to the cocktail hour space. He only reluctantly let go to help her to her seat once they got to the reception.

Although they both enjoyed the reception food, they had both been so deep in their own thoughts that their conversation with the table was stilted and almost awkward. Eventually, as the night wore on, and the gentle fuzz of liquor started to take over, they both started to relax. Nate, after starting and stopping for almost 15 minutes, finally asked her to dance; his heart rate racing as she excitedly nodded yes.

Which is how they found themselves on the dancefloor for over an hour. At first, it was awkward. They were standing a foot apart, dancing independently; she, laughing at Nate’s horrible dance moves, and Nate, feeling electrified by the way her body moved. Eventually, they got closer and closer together until they were swaying in each other’s arms to some horrible Mariah Carey song, making snide remarks in each other’s ears and not caring how obnoxiously loud they were laughing at the jokes.

A few drinks later, their inhibitions were lowered enough that she found herself with her back against him. His arms wrapped firmly around her waist as she leaned into his warm, towering figure. Both of them were no longer sure if they were intoxicated by each other or the drinks, but they did not really care. After they were grinding to a Doja Cat song, she swore she felt something press against her back, but she was not sure as Nate swiftly excused himself to use the bathroom.

And that’s how she found herself at the bar by herself.

“Nate really likes you, you know?” she heard a voice say beside her. When she looked over, she saw his mom giving her a knowing glance.

“Oh, Mrs. Mackinnon, we’re just friends,” Charlotte managed to choke out, despite feeling her throat tighten.

“I know, sweetie, but that doesn’t mean there can’t be more there,” she smiled, laying a soft hand on her forearm. She had never felt herself sober up faster.

“I appreciate that, but we do work together,” she strained.

“Please, call me Kathy,” she continued, not acknowledging Charlotte’s weak protest. And when she did not respond, Kathy added, “You know, I’ve met a number of his girlfriends, and he had never looked at them the way he looks at you. Or even treated them the same way. He’s barely left your side since you got here.”

“Kathy, I’m sure that’s not true. You have raised an amazing son. I’m sure he is just as kind to anyone.” She could feel her cheeks feel heat as she started scanning the room, desperate for Nate’s return.

“Sweetheart,” Kathy spoke softly, “I have been married for many years. There is only one reason a person looks at someone the way he looks at you, and that’s love. If you feel the same way, you should tell him. Don’t stand in the way of your own happiness, dear. Life is too short.”

She smiled as her husband came to stand next to her; and before Charlotte could protest again, she gave her a gentle hug before walking away, leaving her standing there with her head spinning at her words.

Charlotte gripped the edge of the bar and downed her drink in one go once the bartender handed it to her, earning an eyebrow raise. She jumped and let out a little squeak when she felt a warm hand press into her back.

“Woah, it’s just me,” Nate joked before he met her eyes and his brows furrowed, “are you okay?”

“Um, yeah,” she croaked out stiffly.

“Are you sure?” he stepped in closer which only made her stiffen more, “You seem… I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable?”

“What?” she tried to say calmly, although it came out an octave too high, “What makes you say that? Nope. I’m fine.”

He furrowed his brow more and leaned back, confused, before removing his hand from her back and stuffing them in his pockets. There was a twinge of sadness in his eye as he looked around, unsure what to do. “Okay, then. Do you want to go back on the dance floor? Or I guess not. We could sit back at our table?”

“Yeah,” she said awkwardly, finding a normal tone again, “Table sounds good.”

They sat in silence for a bit, just watching the other guests dancing, both deep in thought. She was stuck thinking about what Nate’s mom had said. If she thought about it, she could totally understand why an outside observer would see their relationship as something more than friends. But if Nate had feelings for her, why did he so insistently refer to her as his “good friend”? And even if he did like her, she wasn’t sure about the implications for her job. Was she going to get fired? Probably not, if she was upfront with HR. But she was new to the city and relatively new to the field. What if people started to see her as the girl who ‘goes for the stars’ or the girl who’s ‘just here to get in some rich athlete’s pants’. She had worked too hard not to be taken seriously now. And maybe if things worked out, it would eventually blow over. But if it didn’t work out… If it didn’t work out, she wasn’t sure what would happen, but she felt it would be bad.

Meanwhile, Nate was panicking; combing through every moment of the evening, trying to find where things went wrong. He was finally feeling like he had an idea of how she felt. Like maybe if he told her his feelings, she would reciprocate. Did he go too far with the dancing? Was Drunk Nate too caught up in the moment and did something inappropriate and unwanted? Nate was never much of a verbal processor — he preferred to stew on things first, — and maybe it was the remnants of the alcohol lingering in his system but he felt the words trying to bubble up in his chest. He didn’t even know what the words would be; maybe words to explain how he felt about her, to make sure he didn’t do something wrong, to make sure she was okay.

When she finally felt the grip on her chest loosen and the thoughts begin to slow a little, she snuck a quick glance at Nate. His jaw was set firm, and brows furrowed. He was staring into the crowd on the dancefloor, but he was clearly not watching them. He looked tense, and she could see the panic she felt reflected on his face. She found herself reaching out and taking his hand in hers, giving it a squeeze; a move that clearly surprised him as he jumped a little before smiling and relaxing into it.

“Nate, I’m actually getting kind of tired. I’m thinking of heading back to the room. Did you want to stay longer?” she said gently.

He squeezed her hand back and gave her a small smile, although the worry hadn’t left the contours of his face yet, “No, I’m actually ready to head back too. Come on.” He pulled her onto her feet.

They took the ten-minute walk back to the hotel in relative silence, tethered together by their interlocked hands. Nate spent the whole walk back planning his speech; he was going to tell her how he felt because he couldn’t hold it in anymore. Holding hands with her just felt so right. But for her, despite how nice it felt, it caused an overwhelming sense of panic to rush back through her. It was nice. It was too nice. It was going to ruin everything.

Stepping out of the elevator, the words escaped her lips before she had the chance to hold them back. “Nate, I think this was a mistake,” her voice was barely above a whisper. He froze beside her and managed to choke out a “What?”

“Nate,” she said, pulling her hand away from him and backing towards her door, “This is giving me a taste of what I can’t have. And this friendship… I don’t think I can do this.”

“What are you talking about?” he replied, still stuck in the spot where she left him, his voice louder than he had intended.

“The touching, the holding hands, the being sweet… It’s too much,” she said, unlocking the door, not meeting his eyes.

“What—” he repeated, his voice cracking at the end. Her mind didn’t process that the pain she felt was echoed in his voice.

She sighed, stepping into the doorway, “I can’t do this, Nate. Because if we keep doing this, I’m going to fall in love with you. And I can’t do that while being your ‘good friend from work’. So, I’m going to bed. Good night.” She finally met his eye as she stepped back to shut the door, barely registering the way his face flickered from hurt to confusion to shock to hope.

Charlotte rested her forehead against the door and let out a shaky breath. She could feel the tears form and slide down her face. She tried to convince herself that it was the right move, but the only thing she could hear in her head was the sound of Nate’s mother’s voice saying ‘Don’t stand in the way of your own happiness, dear. Life is too short.’ What if Kathy was right? What if protecting herself from pain was causing more pain itself? What if it would work out? As she stood there, she listened for movement on the other side of the door, but she heard none. Was that hope she saw in his face there? If it was, what did it mean?

Before she could finish the thought, she heard shuffles and a rapid knock on the door that startled her. She didn’t know why, but she opened it without hesitation.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry if I did something earlier that made you uncomfortable. I'm sorry if I'm crossing a boundary now but I would never forgive myself if I didn't say this," he said, looking at her with concern. When she nodded, he continued speaking.

He confessed to her that he had never been this person before, love-struck and irrational. He had always been calm, detached, and calculated, but with her, he couldn't help it. He couldn't help being rash, like inviting her to the wedding or reaching out to touch her and be close to her.

She had told him that she couldn't do this because she was scared of falling in love with him, but he revealed that he might already be in love with her. He had been saying that she was just a friend and a colleague because he was scared, but he had never felt this way before and was afraid he would mess it up.

During the wedding ceremony, he looked around at everyone and realized that he had won the Stanley Cup this year, but he still felt off. He kept thinking about her - how her laughter made him want to make her laugh again, how her smile warmed his chest, and how he could still feel the tingle where their skin had touched even after she left.

He admitted that he had never been sure if he had truly been in love before, and maybe this was it. He thought they owed it to themselves to find out because he believed she might feel the same way. He knew it might not be the most rational decision, but it was everything he had to say.

Feeling a shaky breath escape her lips, she heard the voice in her mind, "Don't stand in the way of your own happiness, dear. Life is too short." For the first time on this trip, she felt her mind still and smiled as she closed the distance between them. With her chest pressed to him, she looked up at him, admiring his soft and nervous blue eyes. She reached up to cup his neck and met him in a kiss.

The kiss was gentle and soft at first, as she chastely felt their bodies slot together; his hands finding her waist, and hers fisting his suit jacket to bring him closer. After not long, she felt Nate run his tongue along her lip and she allowed herself to deepen the kiss, conveying the emotion that was hard to put into words. The feeling of his firm hands against her waist and his muscular body against hers again made her feel as though she were on fire. And she had to admit, she liked this quite a lot. Eventually, they disconnected and rested their foreheads together as they took in the moment.

“So, are you going to say something?” Nate whispered.

“Yeah, uh, ditto,” she whispered back, giggling slightly.

“That’s it?!” he leaned back in mock horror, “After I poured my heart out, that’s all you have to say?” She could see a smile tugging at his lips.

“Well, I think for the first time in your life, you have spoken enough words for both of us, Nathan,” she laughed as she gave his chin a little pinch, drawing a laugh from him as well. She leaned back in to place another firm kiss on his lips before saying, “I like you a lot too. Like a lot a lot. It scares me. But, as the kids say, you only live once, and I need to stop being scared and just see where this goes because I think I might be in love with you, Nathan, and I need to find out if I am.”

He smiled broadly; it’s the smile she loves, the one where his nose scrunches a little and she can see the genuine happiness on his face. And as their lips rejoined, she slowly started to pull him back into her hotel room.

“Hey, can I ask you a question?” he says, disconnecting their lips briefly.

“Uh, right now? Sure, I guess,” she raised her eyebrow.

“Why do you always call me Nathan? Everyone always calls me Nate.” The question catches her off-guard and she laughed as she continued dragging him into your room.

“I was trying to remind myself to stay professional and not fall for you,” she laughed as she felt the back of her legs hit the edge of the bed.

“Right…That worked so well, I’ll have to remember that one for the future, Miss Charlotte,” he laughed back before kissing her again so deeply and passionately that she forgot whatever retort was on the tip of her tongue.

#Nathan mackinnon #colorado avalanche #Nathan mackinnon imagine #Colorado Avalanche imagine #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #avs #Nathan mackinnon fic #Colorado Avalanche fic #avs imagine #avs fic #hockey imagines #rox writes

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bellaxgiornata · 11 months

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Falling For the Devil [Part twenty: "The 'I Told You So'"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Summary: You get sick and have to call off of work. Matt offers to take care of you later.

Matt repeatedly promises you he won't get sick.

[Series of one-shots about Reader meeting, falling for, and dating Matt Murdock.]

Warnings: 18+ for this series; contains humor, fluff, romance, angst, smut (like...a lot of it later in the series), language, some violence

Word Count: 4.3k

a/n: A fluffly installment where Reader gets sick and then so does Matt (and he turns into a clingy baby Capuchin monkey). You can find the entire list of installments for this series on tumblr here and my other Matt Murdock stories on my Masterlist if you enjoy my writing! I have...quite a few Matt Murdock series'...

The alarm on your phone woke you, the sound somehow more grating than you remembered it usually being at six in the morning. With a groan you threw a hand out, searching for your phone along the nightstand. Once you'd found it, you raised your head from your pillow, brows furrowing as a sharp pain shot through your head. Eyes squinting at the bright light of your phone screen in the dark room, you finally managed to turn off your alarm and blissful silence surrounded you again.

But you needed to get up and get ready for work. It was Thursday morning after all.

Sitting up in bed, sheets falling down your chest as you did, your entire body immediately protested the movement. Everything ached–your head, your back, your legs, and your throat. Eyes closing, you faintly groaned from your place in bed. A shiver ran down your back at the chill of your exposed arms in your bedroom that shouldn’t feel quite this cold.

That’s when you realized you were sick.

"Fuck," you muttered.

Tossing the sheets off of you, you slowly threw your legs over the side of the bed, running a hand over your face. Rising to your feet, you shuffled with half-lidded eyes out of your bedroom and into your bathroom across the hall.

Flipping on the light, you winced at the brightness in the small room. You groggily opened the medicine cabinet above the sink and grabbed the thermometer. With a sigh you pulled it out of the container and put it in your mouth before leaning against the wall beside you, eyelids lowering.

You had felt perfectly fine last night, how the hell did you wake up feeling so shitty?

As you waited for the thermometer to read your temperature, hating the fact that you would have to use up a sick day if you had a fever, you felt yourself slowly drifting back off on your feet. A minute later the beeping had your eyes snapping open and your body pushing off of the bathroom wall. Pulling the thermometer out of your mouth, your eyes darted down to the reading. You had a fever–100.6 degrees to be exact. Nothing to be too worried about, but definitely a fever where you should crawl back into bed instead of going to the office.

Frustrated, you washed the thermometer under the faucet knowing you'd have to call Ellison next. You'd also have to cancel your plans with Matt tomorrow night, too, you realized with another irritated groan. And you'd really been looking forward to trying that new restaurant.

Placing the clean thermometer back into its container, you brought it back with you to your bedroom and set it on the nightstand. Taking your phone from the charger, you skimmed the contacts for Ellison's number. Hitting the call button, you sunk down onto your bed and held the phone to your ear. A few rings later Ellison answered, greeting you with your name.

"Hey," you said, voice sounding a little off from the sore throat. "I hate to leave you hanging, but I woke up with a fever. I'm not–not feeling too great," you muttered. "I should probably stay home and not infect everyone else at the office."

"Yeah, you really don't sound too great," he agreed. He sighed over the line, probably quickly reworking a plan to not have your absence screw up the next issue. "That's alright, I'd rather you get better. But…do you think it's possible to email me that article you had just about finished? Maybe some time before five?” he asked in a way where ‘no’ was clearly not an option. “Sabrina can probably finish the edits so it'll still get to print on time."

You nodded, running a hand across your aching forehead. "Yeah, I'll uh, I'll send it along in a couple hours," you assured him.

You hung up shortly after, quickly and eagerly crawling back into your bed and under the sheets and pulling them high towards your chin. Getting comfortable, you slowly began to drift off, curled up with your stuffy nose buried in one of Matt's dark gray shirts that you’d fallen asleep with last night.

The sound of a melodic ringtone drew your eyes wide open not too long after you’d managed to fall back asleep. You groaned, rolling over and throwing out a hand to grab your ringing phone. Matt's name was on the screen and your brows drew together in confusion as you answered the call.

"Matt?" you asked him in lieu of a greeting.

"Hey, sweetheart, where are you?" he asked.

Your other hand rose from the sheets, rubbing your burning eyes. "What? I'm at home," you mumbled.

"We were…supposed to meet up for coffee this morning before work?" Matt hesitantly said over the line. "I thought we'd agreed on that last night or am I misremembering?"

You exhaled slowly, feeling yourself deflate. "Shit, sorry Matt. I totally forgot," you croaked out.

"Are you okay?" he asked curiously. "You sound off."

"I uh, I'm sick," you told him. "Slight fever. I just called Ellison and was about to go back to sleep. I'm sorry, I totally forgot or I'd have called you, I didn't mean to–"

"Sweetie, it's okay," Matt cut you off. "Don't worry about it. I'll stop by after work, okay?"

Your brows pulled together again quickly. "No, I don't want you to get sick," you protested immediately.

He chuckled lightly over the line. “I don’t usually get sick,” he boasted in assurance. “I’ll be fine. I can stop by this evening, bring you some medicine and some dinner.”

“Matt,” you whined, throat aching at the pitch as your voice cracked on his name. “I have a fever and I don’t want to get you sick. I can just order some groceries on my phone and have someone deliver everything to my door.”

“Okay, but would you rather cuddle me or my shirts?” he teased.

You frowned, your eyes dropping down to the dark gray shirt you were currently clutching in a death grip in your left hand. His laughter over the line caught your attention again.

“Yeah, I thought so,” he said in amusement. “I’ll see you this evening. I’ll get some cold medicine–you have a fever but do you have a sore throat? Congestion? Are you vomiting? Do you have–”

“Matt,” you whined again, this time in embarrassment. God forbid the man asked if you had diarrhea next, you’d probably die on the spot. “I’ll be fine, I have cold medicine,” you told him.

“Is it expired?” he asked.

“I–” you began then paused. When the hell did you buy that bottle of Dayquil?

“I’ll get you something,” he assured you. “And bring you soup from that Deli we like for dinner. You just rest up and focus on getting better.”

After you’d exchanged goodbyes and hung up, you rolled back onto your side in your bed, burying your face back into Matt’s shirt. You took a deep inhale the best you could manage through your stuffed up nose and smiled when you could just make out the faint scent of his not-entirely-scent-free detergent.

_________

Shivering under the large, dark blue plush blanket, still snuggling Matt’s shirt, you mindlessly stared at the episode of House Hunters on your television. Your fever had gone up in the afternoon, shortly after you’d managed to make it out of bed and shower knowing Matt was probably going to find a way into your apartment tonight one way or another. You’d managed to eat a piece of buttered toast some time afterwards, but you hadn’t been too hungry all day. Mostly you’d slept, either in your bed or curled up on your sofa with the television softly playing in the background.

A knock came from your front door and your head slowly rose from the pillow, the movement reminding you just how much your body still ached.

“Sweetheart, it’s Matt,” he called through the door.

“Door’s unlocked,” you called back, sore throat stinging at the effort of raising your voice.

A moment later the front door swung open and you saw Matt stepping through the threshold, his cane in one hand and two bags in the other. One of which looked like takeout and the other clearly a CVS bag. You made to sit up on the couch but he quickly threw up his hand still holding his cane in your direction.

“Don’t get up, I’m fine,” he told you. As he slipped off his dress shoes by the door, he shot you a curious look. “Why is your door unlocked, though?”

You shrugged, settling back down on the couch. “Unlocked it earlier for you,” you mumbled. “Knew I’d be too comfortable on the couch to want to get up later.”

He rested his cane near the door, making his way towards you on the couch. You tucked your feet up towards yourself, leaving him room at the other end of it. He placed both bags on your coffee table before he settled down near your feet.

“Please tell me you haven’t had it unlocked while you’ve been asleep?” he asked you flatly.

“Okay, I won’t,” you muttered.

He said your name firmly as he pulled his glasses off, the tone in his voice catching your attention. “Someone could have just walked in here,” he chastised, setting his glasses on the coffee table. “That’s not safe, you of all people should know that.”

“If someone wanted to come in here and stab me, at least I wouldn’t have to feel this sore throat anymore,” you joked.

Matt stared at you from the other side of the couch, his expression unamused. You sighed, slowly sitting up on the couch and wincing as your headache disapproved of the movement.

“I was kidding,” you told him. “You’re not the only one with jokes, Murdock.”

“Jokes are actually funny,” he countered.

“And I thought you were supposed to help me feel better?” you asked, raising a brow at him.

A little grin slid on his mouth before his hand found your thigh over the blue blanket. “You’re right. I just don’t want something to happen to you. Please lock your door.”

“Alright, alright,” you conceded.

You shifted under the blanket, trying to get comfortable again on the couch now that Matt was here. You also tried to discreetly pull his shirt out from under the blanket, slowly placing it on the end table beside you. Matt’s head tilted to the side before he turned back to look at you, one brow raised.

“Were you cuddling with my shirt again?” he asked, smiling at you.

Your mouth opened, an immediate ‘no’ ready to fall out of it, but remembering Matt was a human lie detector, your mouth snapped shut. Instead your cheeks flushed at being caught–or at least, you think they flushed, it was hard to tell with the fever already burning you up.

“See?” he teased, throwing an arm around your shoulders and drawing you into his side. “I knew you’d prefer to cuddle the real thing.”

He wasn’t wrong and you quickly lowered your head to his shoulder, eyelids dropping closed. His fingers were on your chin a moment later, slowly tilting your mouth up towards him. It took your sluggish, feverish brain a moment to realize he was about to kiss you and when you did, your right hand flew up to his chest, abruptly pushing him away from you. Matt sat on the couch staring back at you with his brows raised and his eyes slightly widened.

“What’re you doing?” you asked, startled.

“Trying to kiss my girlfriend?” he answered matter-of-factly.

“No!” you shot back, scooting away from him on the couch as your voice cracked. “I’m going to get you sick if you kiss me!”

His expression swiftly shifted to a look of amusement as he fought back a laugh. “You won’t get me sick,” he assured you for the umpteenth time today. Holding his arms open, he continued to grin wide at you. “Come back here.”

When you didn’t move, he pulled out that look that you swore he’d slowly been perfecting on you. His brows creased together just a little bit, lowering down on his forehead, and his eyes softened, looking almost ready to water. The corners of his lips pulled down a fraction and his head cocked gently to the side.

“No,” you said firmly, holding up a hand. “Don’t do the wounded puppy face on me, Matt. That’s unfair. You know it always works.”

“That’s the point,” he murmured.

He continued to make that face and you felt your resolve quickly disappearing. Barely half a minute later your shoulders sagged and you scooted back towards him on the couch, muttering out a “fucking hell” as you did. A triumphant grin spread across his mouth as he leaned forward to kiss you, but you quickly threw a hand to his chest again, halting his movements.

“For the record, I reserve the right to say ‘I told you so’ if you get sick now,” you said. “And you accept full responsibility for getting yourself sick. No blaming me.”

He chuckled, shaking his head as he gazed down at you. “I’m not going to get sick,” he said again. “And I won’t blame you if I do.”

“I’m remembering that,” you told him.

Still grinning, he leaned down towards you, his fingers lightly tilting your chin up towards him again. Your hand on his chest slid up to his neck, his skin feeling pleasantly warm against your palm as he kissed you. Even his mouth felt deliciously warm against yours, a shiver running down your spine as you eagerly kissed him back, your mouth greedily seeking warmth from his own. Your other hand quickly slid up his chest, your body leaning into the heat radiating from his, trying to take comfort in it. If it wasn’t for the fact that you quickly realized you couldn’t breathe out of your congested nose with how intensely you were kissing him, you wouldn’t have broken the kiss so soon.

Feeling out of breath, you groaned, lowering your forehead to his warm shoulder. Matt’s large palm came up to cradle the back of your head, gently smoothing your hair down.

“You’re burning up,” he noted.

“Mmm, funny,” you muttered into his dress shirt, your eyes closing as you relaxed into him, “because I feel cold and you feel really, really warm.”

“How long ago did you take something for the fever?” he asked.

Your head shifted along his shoulder, your cheek coming to rest along his chest as you squinted at the time on the stove in your kitchen. Taking a moment, you did the mental math as your arms wrapped around his waist.

“About three hours ago,” you answered. “So I still have another hour before I can take more.”

Matt leaned forward, reaching out to the coffee table. Your head remained against his chest, having zero interest in removing it as his hands pulled the bottles of medicine from one of the bags.

“You can at least take some of these,” he said. “And I’m assuming the employee who helped me wasn’t lying about what it was that I was buying.”

You instantly frowned, shifting your head along his chest to look up towards him. “Please tell me that hasn’t happened before.”

His mouth thinned out. “Thankfully I have other senses that help when it has happened,” he murmured. “And these did smell like medicine, so I know it’s not like he tried to get me to buy bottles of sexual lubricant instead or something.”

“Sure those wouldn’t have gone to waste at least,” you muttered before you could stop yourself.

Matt’s head slowly turned towards you, the corner of his mouth quirking up as an amused smirk spread gradually over it. Quickly you sat upright on the couch, clearing your throat and grabbing the bottles of medicine.

“Yeah, these are definitely cold medicine,” you mumbled. “I’m uh, just going to go take them. In the kitchen. Where I uh, can get some water.” Your eyes darted towards Matt, swallowing hard and wincing when it hurt. He was still making that knowing, almost hungry face. “You want some water? Or a beer?”

"Beer would be great, thanks," he answered.

You grabbed the medicine bottles from the coffee table and bolted to the kitchen, trying to ignore Matt still staring at you from across your apartment with that hungry look still on his face that was starting to somehow turn you on while simultaneously making you self-conscious.

"You know, from my experience," Matt called out to you as you filled a glass with water, "you really don't need any lubricant. You've usually got that…very much covered."

"Pretty sure it's because of you," you muttered under your breath.

Matt's loud bark of laughter tore through your apartment and your eyes widened, forgetting about his super hearing in your feverish state.

Turning off the faucet, you drank down some water, the slight chill of it burning your dry, sore throat. You focused on taking some of the medicine he brought instead of the nerves he’d managed to shake loose in you, your nose scrunching at the taste of the overly sweet, fake fruit flavor as it went down. Before heading back to the couch, you grabbed Matt a beer from the fridge and picked your glass of water back up.

“So,” you asked Matt as you sat down beside him on the couch again, offering him the beer, “you still need to go out Cane Tossing tonight?”

He swallowed down the drink he’d just taken before turning towards you, raising one brow very curiously up onto his forehead. “Cane Tossing? Is that some sort of new sexual term I’m unaware of?”

You snorted, the sound quite obnoxious with how congested your nose was, but Matt still grinned instantly–as he always did whenever you made that particular noise of amusement.

“No,” you answered him, setting your water glass onto your coffee table. “The thing you do at night.”

“Another new name?” he asked. “This one doesn’t even make sense.”

“Yes it does,” you replied quickly. “Last weekend we were all leaving Josie’s, you caught wind of something with your fancy Devil senses–”

“–fancy Devil senses?” he asked in amusement.

“–and you made up some random excuse,” you continued, not even bothering to respond to his question, though you noted the growing entertained smile on his face, “and you bolted down some side alley and you fucking whipped your goddamn cane . Like, that fucker went on a freaking Six Flags ride straight out of your hand. Remember? I had Karen double back with me when Foggy took Marci home and we fished it out of the dumpster you threw it in. Which took a lot of drunk creativity, by the way.” Your head tilted to the side as you added on, “And what is it with you and dumpsters lately?”

Matt quickly lost the fight he had with holding back his laughter, a wide grin breaking free as the warm sound of his mirth filled your apartment. Despite how shitty you felt, you smiled wide in return, your eyes drawn to that one little damn dimple in his right cheek.

“You are–” he began, trying to rein in his laughter, “–by far the funniest person I have ever met. And thank you, by the way,” he said, large smile still spread across his face. “I don’t know if I thanked you enough for crawling into another dumpster for me.”

“For your cane,” you corrected. “I wasn’t sure how many of them you had laying around. Even less sure now that I’ve seen how you treat them. But uh,” you began, voice returning serious, “thank you for–for stopping by. Bringing me medicine and food. Even though I swear to God Matthew Murdock, you better not end up getting sick.”

He looked at you seriously, trying to fight down the laugh that kept trying to fall out of him as he said your name, his hands reaching out towards yours. “I promise you, I will not get sick.”

_________

Matt swung his apartment door open and you were greeted with a sight of him you hadn’t seen before. His nose was tinged red, probably from blowing it too much, and his hair was a disheveled mess of brown on his head, sticking up in various places from where he had most likely tossed and turned trying to sleep. He looked incredibly tired, his eyes half-lidded as he sniffled lightly. He was dressed in a zip-up hoodie, no shirt underneath, and a pair of sweatpants tucked into some cozy looking socks. Your face fell at how miserable he looked and you instantly rushed towards him and drew him into a hug, entirely disregarding the bag of food and medicine in your hands. His strong arms wrapped around your waist in return, his face burying itself into the side of your neck.

“You got sick, didn’t you?” you asked, your own face buried in his shoulder.

“Yeah,” he answered softly.

“Dammit, Matt, I told you so,” you chided.

"Yeah," he mumbled against your neck, "you did."

You drew back from him, heart sinking at the sight of him before you. He somehow looked permanently like a wounded puppy while sick. He was also still clinging to you, apparently more in need of touch while sick than when he wasn’t–something you made a mental note of.

"Did you take something for your fever yet?" you asked him as you turned in his hold, closing and locking his door.

"About an hour ago," he told you.

"Well I brought you cold medicine and some lunch," you said, glancing at the bags you'd brought. "You hungry yet?"

He shook his head silently, his hands still holding tight to you. With a sigh you grabbed onto one of his hands and led him down his entry hall and to the kitchen.

"How about I put your lunch in the fridge and you take some medicine," you told him, trying to do just that while he was still clinging to you like a baby Capuchin monkey.

"Then will you come cuddle with me?" he asked hopefully, voice a bit muffled by his congested nose.

Closing the fridge door, you turned towards him in his one-armed hold around your waist and reached a hand up. Gently you ran the tips of your fingers along the length of his stubbled jaw, the hairs pleasantly prickling the pads of your fingers. A faint smile drew onto his face as he leaned into your touch.

"Yeah, Matty," you agreed.

You brought the bag of medicine to his counter, pulling the bottles out of the bag as Matt still clung to the back of you, his forehead resting in the crook of your neck. Afterwards you stepped over to a cabinet, trying to reach up and grab a glass as Matt clearly refused to let go of you. Carefully you filled the glass with room temperature water as best you could so the water wouldn't irritate his throat too much–you assumed he'd be much more sensitive to temperature, especially with a sore throat.

Turning back to his counter, you set the glass down and measured out the appropriate amount of medicine for him.

"You're going to have to let go of me to take the medicine, Matty," you told him.

With a groan he rolled his head off of you, finally releasing you from his hold and accepting the little cup of medicine. He pulled a face before throwing it back and you quickly held out the glass of water for him to chase it down with. Immediately he accepted it, guzzling it down with audible swallows.

Despite the water, he still ended up having to brush his teeth after downing the medicine, trying to rid his mouth of the awful taste. You couldn't imagine how gross it was to him, but he definitely seemed disgusted and you waited on his couch patiently while he thoroughly brushed his teeth.

A few minutes later, he shuffled out of his bathroom and to where you were waiting for him on the leather couch. You rose to your feet and made your way to his room, Matt happily following along behind you as you moved, wrapping his arms back around your waist and rubbing his face into your neck as you walked. You kept giggling when his stubble tickled you, which only spurred him on. Eventually he broke away when you reached his bedroom, Matt getting into his bed as you slid his bedroom door closed. Then you made your way towards the other side of the bed and pulled the sheets back–and abruptly paused, your eyes catching sight of the article of clothing he was clutching under the sheets. You bit down on your bottom lip, fighting back the smile.

"Matt?" you asked him. When he responded with a questioning hum, you asked, "Have you been cuddling with my sweatshirt?"

"You left it behind last week," he murmured as you crawled in beside him. "Smells like you."

He pulled it out of his sheets, setting it onto the nightstand behind him with one hand before he slid his way towards you in the bed. Immediately his arms and legs wrapped around your body, Matt's head instantly coming to rest along your chest. His slightly red nose nuzzled into your shirt as he made a few throaty, happy noises that you couldn't help but smile at. Eventually he settled, his eyes closing as a peaceful expression spread over his face as he rested on you. Absently your left hand came up and began combing through his soft hair and you felt him shudder against you, humming contentedly again.

"I'm sorry I got you sick," you whispered.

"Worth it," he mumbled into your shirt, "for the cuddles."

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x fem reader #matt murdock fic #matt murdock series #daredevil x female reader #daredevil x reader #fftd

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spearxwind · 3 months

Text

Hi this is where I talk a bunch about ocs :D

I dont have a lot of time lately to talk abt lore but i still think abt my guys whenever i have some chill time to myself, so here's some patch notes. This is also just me thinking out loud haha

CD:

ive been playing w some changes for CD and seeing if they stick :] gonna make the story slightly more complex and the sides of the conflict also different (for example I am going to make hades and talas full on enemies at first along with connon, caval and silas >:3 (and I am also making silas and his monster form two separate characters so the lion (hal) is now a mount instead))

Specifically what I've been thinking about is making Hades either a ship captain or a first mate for a rogue ship. The deal with Hades is that he comes from a renowned family from Redbridge and is a disgrace to them. In previous versions of CD they were artisans but that never rly clicked for me, and recently I have been reworking Redbridge into a naval empire to add some 🤏spice 🤏to the world, which would mean Hades' family is actually a naval captain family putting him next in line to be one of them but since his thing is being a disgrace he takes off and becomes a rogue. And instead of hating leviathans he fucking hates hunters instead. Conversely, I think with these changes Talas would also NOT be inclined to kill hunters (or at least not as often as he currently does). He'd pick fights with the naval fleet and other similar factions instead which is more like his character.

I also wanna try and bring back an older concept I had where connon's ship was able to both become fully submerged (like the subs in sunless sea where her character originated from) and this other idea I had where a ship could split in half into two smaller ships. Like if a catamaran could split into two and flank a vessel on both sides. But we'll see if I can make this work x)

Dragons (broken horizon + extinction):

I vaguely mentioned this a while ago as well but I've also been thinking abt my dragons and how I kinda want them to all be in one world/setting, which includes both my broken horizon guys (cer, jarek, octane, etc) and my extinction guys (alex, c, orion, etc) but I dont know how to deal with all of the conflicting lore and themes.

Because for extinction the big theme is there are people who can turn into dragons, and technically all of the dragons' powers are based on energy (for lore reasons). Meanwhile for my other dragons I have a few different elements or other ways of using fire (eg instead of using straight up fire/energy, my oc Jarek can breathe out gas only and ignites it with his mandibles).

I miss all my dragons a lot so I kinda wanted to make a world for them where I could have them Vibe and do different stories in so I thought about having a dragon-only universe but unfortunately Extinction has a pretty huge human element that I cant just eliminate.

It feels counterintuitive, i know the first logical choice is 'just let them be different things' but I genuinely feel like the right choice is to put them both together so the characters can interact and the whole story can be deeper because as it is both are really shallow and I would really like for them to work together so that's what I've been picking at for some months now (it's um. been real slow)

For these two stories I do have two different vibes though that I've been wondering how to weave together nicely bc they overlap for some characters. For broken horizon I had flying and aerial racing as a big theme (and some of the chars in extinction would be rly into that) and for extinction I had dragon arena fights as a big theme (and some of the characters in bh would be rly into that) both of these is another of the reasons why I wanted to put them both together bc it feels like they can fit very well I just have to find the right idea for them to click and then itll be smooth sailing -w-

I also wanted to talk abt this in hopes that talking abt all the dragons gets me to think more about them as well

I wanted to make this post bc I've been really busy lately and rly absent from here in general and I don't have as much time to draw (or even think abt ocs) anymore but I still wanted to keep posted about what's been going on in my head and hopefully get some eyes on it and maybe even some feedback if anyone is so inclined

If u read this whole thing thank u i owe you my life fr I hope u enjoyed reading abt my patch notes :D and hopefully sometime in the future I can get back to drawing concepts and stuff or maybe even writing stuff

#thunderclap #oc ramble #challenger deep #broken horizon #long post #whew this took so long to write and i dont even know if its gonna make ANY sense to anyone auuggggg #ive been thinking a lot about CD in my off time recently I want to make it GOOD i wanna make it COMPLEX i have a lotta good insp lately #so im hoping to make some good and much needed changes #and i also think abt my dragons a lot they just like. float at random in my head in cool scenes and i have no way to bring it all together #AND THAT MAKES ME MAD!!! THIS IS MY HOUSE!! I SHOULD BE ABLE TO MAKE IT FIT AUUUGGHGHHHH!!!!#i also think abt octane and alex being rivals a lot now it actually fits so much. radioactive bitches. fusion vs fission.#generation vs combustion. white and black. both still orange. please please i need this to work sooo bad #ALSO C AND ARC AND JAREK AND DIMA WOULD GET ALONG SO WELL I KNOW IT I DO AUGH

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 11 months

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Idia and his parents communicating ipad to ipad for Family day. I want to see it, it sounds like something out of a dystopia 😭 can you write it? (Hope I’m asking the right way!)

I seriously thought long and hard about censoring Idia's whole face out using his tablet in the banner 😂 I ended up choosing not to because leaving his face exposed makes Idia more vulnerable (which suits the tone of this interaction).

This piece was actually inspired by a scene from a cooking manga of all things if you can imagine that 😭 It was about two brothers fighting because they reacted so differently to a traumatic event; I reworked the elements of that for this scene

***Contains major plot spoilers for book 6 of the main story!***

Family means Nobody is Left Behind or Forgotten.

“Idia.”

“Dad.”

The air between the two floating tablets was electric—not from the devices, but from the charged tension they emanated.

On one screen was a circle encasing a triangle and skull emblem, a generic symbol for Idia’s infamous voice calls. On the other screen was a man that could only be described as Death itself, pale skinned and blue lipped, suited in a pristinely lab coat. His hair was a blue blaze, and his mouth folded into a neutral line.

Ortho floated between the two tablets, his gaze darting nervously between them.

“So nice of you to pay your son a visit,” Idia spat. A mean, pessimistic bite to his speech was the norm—but these were different, coated in something stronger. Not quite hate, but the distinctively metallic flavor of masked hurt. “What am I in for this time?”

“I’ve come to check up on you,” Mr. Shroud said carefully, as if placing each word down with a fine pair of tweezers.

Idia couldn’t suppress an audible scoff from slipping out.

For as long as he had lived (though could one really define “living” as being cooped up in his room 24/7?), Idia had never known his father to be particularly warm. He was an aloof man, as icy as the pits of Tartarus itself, dedicating himself to research above all else. Results over emotions, and facts over feelings: that was how Mr. Shroud operated.

Something about his mere presence made Idia freeze over, his limbs lock up like a machine with cogs that hadn’t been greased. The man he called father—where had he and mother been when their son needed them most?

Two years. Two years of crying alone, grappling with his guilt and his fears, shut away from the world. Researchers passing him looks of sympathy, containing their whispers amongst themselves. It was the robot parts gifted to him that kept him sane, gave him some semblance of hope.

The limp body of a child, entirely indiscernible on the floor, was still so clear in Idia’s mind. Mangled, the warmth robbed from it. As cold and as lifeless as the machines that populated Styx HQ.

“Give him back. Give him back to me…! Give me all of Ortho… His body, his personalities, his memories! EVERYTHING!! I WANT IT ALL BACK!!”

His tears had run hot, but his parents’ blood had turned to solid ice. He had fixated, and they had seemingly forgotten.

“Kk, sure. I’ll buy it even though I actually don’t,” Idia said sarcastically. “Go off, say what you want to say.”

If Mr. Shroud was offended by his son’s tone, his face didn’t show it. “I wanted to ask if there have been any… issues since ‘the incident’. More specifically, among ex-subjects A through F, regarding their experiences within our facility.”

Because we neglected to wipe their memories with River Lethe this time, Idia knew. He wants to know if they’ve been running their mouths off about Styx with all the online rumors on secret organization going viral…

“How should I know? I don’t make it a habit of monitoring my classmates’ internet posts. And so what if they do? It’s not like anyone has proof…”

“This is a matter of great importance, young man. If word gets out about what we are and what we do…” Mr. Shroud frowned and shook his head. “It puts our entire operation in jeopardy. As future director, you should be taking this more seriously.”

“I didn’t make that choice,” Idia muttered. All I wanted… was to be normal. But no, that freedom was already taken from me before I was even born.

“What was that?” Mr. Shroud’s volume rose ever so slightly, brows subtly drawing together.

“Wah, let’s not fight!” Ortho interjected, holding up two hands. “It’s Family Day, Nii-san! We should be doing fun activities as a family. Will you join us, Mr. Shroud?”

“Ortho…” Idia bit back a protest.

Mr. Shroud’s expression shifted, adopting mild amusement. “… The world’s first self-improving technomantic humanoid.”

“Yup, that’s me!” Ortho twirled happily. His outfit—black and blue, just like the school uniforms of the Ignihyde students— shone wonderfully in the sunlight.

“Fascinating. It’s been equipped with a new gear which seems to being it something akin to human joy,” Mr. Shroud mused. “I assume this was your doing, Idia?”

At the other end of his tablet, Idia clenched his clammy fists. There he goes again, acting like people are his experiments. Just data to be stared at, manipulated and studied.

Annoyance colored the tips of Idia’s hair red. Ortho’s smile, his happiness, was genuine. Of that, Idia was certain—but it was a waste of his breath to try and convince his father otherwise.

For Ortho’s sake.

A deep breath in, a deep breath out. He expelled his pride, and his flames cooled back to blue.

“Yes, I made his College Gear. Ortho’s officially enrolled as a student now, so I don’t get what the big deal is. You signed off on it.”

“An artificial intelligence with the capacity for organic learning and growth is an ever-expanding field of interest. Your mother and I granted our permission for Ortho’s enrollment so as to collect data on…”

There was a rattle and a slam from the other end of Idia’s tablet. His shaky voice rose, fire burning red hot.“L-Look, I… I don’t care what you think of me, or about school, or your work. But don’t talk about Ortho like he’s just an object.”

“Technically speaking, it is an accurate statement.”

“Ortho’s so much more than that!! He’s my brother. Kehehe… If you can’t recognize that, then maybe you aren’t as smart as you like to think you are.”

Ortho’s eyes widened. “Nii-san…”

Mr. Shroud pursed his lips. “You’re being emotional. Let’s think about this rationally—”

“One day,” Idia continued, his voice cracking. “Just one day of being normal boys with a normal family. Can’t you at least give us that? No, I guess you can’t, because all you care about is getting your results. The feelings of your sons don’t matter.

“You won’t acknowledge Ortho as his own person, but you’re the one that’s more machine than man. We may as well not even exist until you need to call on us for something. Y-You..: You didn’t even cry when…!!”

“Idia.”

Mr. Shroud’s face was a marble mask, free from feeling—but in his eyes was an immense sadness. Despair swirling in a vortex of lost souls, locked away and the key thrown out. “You think you’re the only one who has been suffering? Your mother and I…”

He didn’t finish the thought. Or else the marble would crack, and a torrent of tears would escape him.

Idia went silent. Harsh accusations rested on the tip of his tongue, unsure if they would be spat up or swallowed down.

“… Human beings choose to mourn and to honor the dead in their own ways,” Ortho said quietly. “Coping is unique to the individual. Even so, I think it’s possible to understand one another.

“Nii-san, Mr. Shroud. Why don’t we do away with the screens and speak face-to-face? Maybe then… we could understand each other.”

Idia gave a bitter laugh. “… Sorry, Ortho. I don’t think I could do it.”

“But…”

“He is correct. From the looks of things, it would ultimately be a fruitless, futile effort. We’re done here,” Mr. Shroud declared. “You have the day off from classes, so you may spend it however you wish. Play your video games or whatever it is children do these days to amuse themselves.”

Idia snorted.

“… Be well. Until next time.”

Click!

His video feed abruptly ended. The cord between him and his children, cut.

Back at the Isle of Lamentation, Mr. Shroud pulled up a keyboard and notes on his device. He began punching in his report.

Day XX / Month XX

I was worried about Idia’s emotional and mental state in the aftermath of the incident. The boy has experienced a number of hardships as of late. Regardless, he seems to be doing well. He is still as reclusive and as snarky as he ever was. However, I observed a marked change in his behavior with regards to Ortho.

Idia has become rather protective of the android of his own creation. He now truly regards it as his own brother and reports to enjoy spending time with it. This could yield promising therapeutic results in the future.

I will continue to log his progress.

Signed,

Director Shroud

#Idia Shroud #Ortho Shroud #Ignihyde #twst interactions #twisted wonderland interactions #twst #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #NRC Family Day #twst scenarios #twisted wonderland scenarios #twst imagines #twisted wonderland imagines #spoilers #tw // death #angst

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fereldanwench · 29 days

Text

So I was perusing Reddit and came across this older post about the supposed leaked DLC endgame content from 2022. I had seen some of said leaked content at the time, and I knew there were mentions of Goro and Tokyo and potentially having to sell out Vik, but I took all of it with a grain of salt because these things are often unreliable. (And a good thing I did seeing as how the Phantom Liberty ending is completely different, and this would have been a huge disappointment if my heart had been set on it.)

But y'all, if this was actually on the table for a potential ending for the DLC, I feel SO ROBBED.

Quoted from the Reddit post:

So it turns out that this new ending isn't an actual new ending, but instead just a new path for The Devil ending. Basically, what happens is that if you complete Songbird's questline and gain her trust, she will give you a cure for the relic. After you agree to help Hanako, confront Yorinobu, head up to Arasaka's orbital facility, and remove the biochip from your head, Songbird's cure will begin to activate, and it will begin healing V's brain and nervous system. What happens next is determined by whether or not you saved Takemura's life during the Search and Destroy quest. You will secretly be given a test by Hanako to prove your loyalty and professionalism. What that test is is determined by what happened in the aforementioned quest. If you do save Takemura's life, Takemura will come to tell you about the surgery's success. He will then ask you to do one more job for Araska. This test is to find where Vik is and mark his location for Arasaka, as Vik is a loose end because of his knowledge of the biochip. If you complete this mission, Hanako will then appear and try to reassure that nothing bad will happen to Vik as long as he doesn't cause problems for Arasaka. If you did everything correctly, she will then offer you a job as the head of her security detail. If you accept this offer, you will move with her to Tokyo and once again become an Arasaka employee. If you don't, then you'll just stay in Night City and Takemura will be disappointed in you. You can also say some very mean things to Takemura during this exchange. No matter which of these options you choose, all of V's friends will end up hating her for working with Arasaka. There's also some interesting dialogue if V decides to work with Hanako. V will mention how she doesn't want to return to her old life and how, for the first time in her entire life, V feels like she knows where she's going and what she wants. Hanako will reply to V by stating that a luxurious lifestyle that V could never have previously imagined awaits her in Tokyo. If you did not save Takemura's life, Hellman will come to tell you that the surgery was a success, but will then try to convince you that Hanako is actually planning to kill both of you as you and Hellman are now loose ends. He will tell you that his previous deal with Kang Tao is still on the table, and that he has a shuttle prepared that can take you and him to Kang Tao. He will try and urge you to join Kang Tao with him. If you refuse to go with him to Kang Tao, Hanako will appear and reveal that this entire conversation was actually a test to see if you would betray Arasaka. Hellman further explains that due to V's actions, Hellman couldn't even join Kang Tao anymore if he wanted to and that he's essentially stuck working for Arasaka. Hanako will compliment your professionalism and will then offer you a job as the head of her security, just like in the Takemura ending.

Still hard to say if this was ever actually a possibility, but either way: given that this was stuff found in spring 2022 and at one point Cyberpunk was supposed to have 2 expansions, I'm guessing this content had been long cut/reworked by the time it was leaked.

This honestly would have been the perfect canon ending for Valerie, from the angst of having to sell out a friend to finally being able to fully own her corporate shill proclivities, and as happy and content as I am to fully live in my own headcanons at this point, I would have loved to see this one in action.

#goro takemura #c: goro takemura #oc: valerie v powell #ship: goro x valerie #g: cyberpunk 2077

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coraniaid · 7 months

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Buffy for the character asks?

General opinion/how much I care about them: What can I say about Buffy Summers? When she was fifteen years old a representative of an ancient mystical order told her that she alone had the power to stop bad things from happening in the world, thereby confirming something she had hitherto only strongly suspected. She had to keep a fundamental part of her life secret from the world for years but she never learned how to tell a convincing lie because she was too busy thinking up puns. She had a 95th percentile SAT score despite mostly studying in between fighting vampires in a cemetery every night and cutting classes to sneak out of school and fight yet more vampires during the day. All her favorite teachers died or never noticed she existed. She is both a quintessential only child and somebody who would fight a god to save her annoying little sister. She blackmailed the management of a fast food chain so that they would let her keep doing a minimum wage job she hated with co-workers whose last names she can’t remember. She burned down her old high school gym and blamed it on mice and blew up her new high school library while she was at her graduation ceremony and she sunk her hometown into a giant hole in the desert and drove away in a school bus. She died twice before she turned twenty-one. She is one of my favorite fictional characters in any medium.

A ship I love: I didn’t really talk about why I love Fuffy in my Faith answer, so let me try now.

Of all of Buffy’s shadow selves, Faith is the one who spends the most time actually in her shadow. She doesn’t get later character development that takes her in a different direction and makes her her own person; she didn’t start out as something else entirely and get reworked later when the plot required it. She doesn’t even get the illusion of a family and moments of happiness, like Drusilla has in Season 2. When Faith’s not hanging out with Buffy she’s sitting alone in her motel room or lying in a coma or counting down the months in jail. She exists to be a version of Buffy who is not Buffy, who is worse than Buffy, who doesn’t have friends or family or any external support. That’s really all she is. And she knows it. And she hates it. How could she not? “You get the Watcher, you get the Mom, you get the little Scooby gang … what do I get?”

Because Faith is Buffy – the part of Buffy who never came back after she ran away from home and got kicked out of school; the part who can admit to craving a little more than low-fat yogurt after a night patrolling; the part that never got to make friends with Xander and Willow in Season 1 and never had a Watcher who cared about her – so on a fundamental level Fuffy is about Buffy accepting those suppressed and hidden angry parts of herself. But it’s also about Faith accepting the forgotten and ignored parts of herself that are present in Buffy: the idea that she can be a hero, that there are people in the world who care about her, that there are people who she can trust. It’s about asking what if all of the Season 3 subtext – Faith’s whole arc this season paralleling Angel’s a year ago, and “what are friends for?” and “It’s kind of a Slayer thing”, and Joyce marching in the Slayer Pride Parade – was text, and what if the show existed in a world where the characters could act on it?

And because of how Season 3 turns out, it’s also about Buffy and Faith forgiving themselves, and each other, for doing almost unforgivable things to each other. Because there were never meant to be two of them, and they’ve never been able to tell each other what they mean, and because “kill me, you become me”, but she tried and it didn’t help. And it’s about crappy presents and knives to the throat and forehead kisses and shared dreams and hopelessly entangled destinies. It’s ”She could be terrified. Maybe [...] she’s sorry and she’s alone” and “You think you matter, you think you’re a part of something, and then you get dumped” and “All my life there was one person who tried to be my friend” and “I tried so hard to help you and you spat on me” and “Willow said you needed me. Didn’t really give it much thought.”

As much as I wish Faith was in Season 7 more, part of me is glad that this is all we got, because I really don’t think the show could ever have done all this justice. And the little we get is enough to make me a bit crazy.

A non-romantic relationship that I love: I already talked about Buffy and Willow, so I will try to subvert expectations a little here and go with Buffy and Giles. Not the fandom version of their relationship I like to complain about where Giles is an uncomplicated Good Dad, but the messy and complicated and heartbreaking version where he just won’t allow himself to be that person.

I mean, I think it’s very clear from the show that Giles really does care about Buffy far beyond the extent he is supposed to as a Watcher (he tries to go and fight the Master in her place! Even though he knows it would kill him! Even though this is Season 1 of the show and we’ve not yet seen Giles fight a single vampire!) but that everything about his training and his past tells him that he shouldn’t. Buffy cares about Giles a lot (“You can’t leave me, I can’t do this alone” / “it’s a little like having Mom back”) and it’s clear that she would really like Giles to be more involved in her life (she wants her Mom to invite him around for Christmas, she goes to his house for Thanksgiving, she tries so hard not to show how hurt she is when she confuses his attempts to be dispassionate with genuine disinterest) but Giles is convinced that he cannot be that sort of parental figure for Buffy and it would only hurt her if he tried, and so – by purposely distancing himself from her and not letting her get close to him– he ends up hurting her in exactly the way he fears.

And the tragedy is that I think Giles really does believe the line he keeps feeding Buffy about how important it is not to be “distracted” by “personal concerns”. When Quentin Travers told him he had “a father’s love” for Buffy, Travers meant it as a rebuke – and that’s exactly how Giles takes it. He thinks getting closer to Buffy would be bad for her! He thinks by leaving her in Season 6 he is helping her become self-reliant and a better Slayer! Of course he is wrong, but that’s what he thinks, and it is consistent with how he’s always thought. It’s not character assassination or some unjust subversion of his previously established personality: it is a natural and predictable and awful thing for him to do. And he does it because he cares about her and doesn’t know what to do about that! He thinks she’s a much better person than he is (“she’s a hero, you see. She’s not like us”) and he doesn’t want to bring her down to his level! “If you care so much about [these people], why didn’t you leave town?” Ethan asked him in The Dark Age, and Giles didn’t have an answer!

The NOTP: Going to cheat a bit here (honestly, mostly because it feels a bit mean to keep picking on Xander at this point), and say that the ship I don’t like isn’t with a specific person but rather with an idea that I see applied to all sorts of ships. Namely the idea – not supported at all by the text – that Buffy’s various romantic interests are Good People who teach Buffy important life lessons and make her a better person or protect her from the dangerous world around her. I mean, sorry, but this is not how it works! This is a boring fantasy you have projected onto the show in place of what it was actually telling you. The feminism of BtVS is paper-thin, but give it some credit!

In canon, Buffy absolutely does not learn from her boyfriends. She does not rely on them for emotional support. They all cause her more problems than they help her. She rescues them. She makes them better. Honestly her boyfriends all kind of suck. Because that’s her type! She likes losers with no friends who are kind of obsessed about Buffy Summers! (Losers just like Faith!)

Buffy textually hates it when Angel talks down to her: we see repeatedly how furious she gets when he treats her “like a kid” or makes important decisions about their relationship on her behalf. She doesn't mind physically upstaging Riley (“I was holding back a little”) and secretly likes it when he gets hurt because, to quote Dawn, “she says you look even cuter when you’re all weak and kitteny”. The iconic twin shots of Spike and Buffy in The Gift and After Life are deliberately staged so that Spike is looking up the stairs at Buffy and she is looking down at him (“you’re beneath me”, as she told him in Fool For Love). And as she says later in Conversations With Dead People: “Their opinions don’t matter. They don’t know. They haven’t been through what I’ve been through [...] I feel like I’m better than them. Superior.”

So, you know, the preferred power balance is pretty explicit here! I don’t think the show is being excessively subtle. And yet people keep insisting that, oh no, Buffy learns a lot from her boyfriends, or that she can’t possibly cope without their support, or writing fanfics where they swoop in to town to rescue Buffy from trouble. But that is not who Buffy is! She is not some unsophisticated naif or damsel in distress. She would hate that so much! Ship Buffy with whoever you want, but let her be Buffy!

… but also, yeah, rewatching the second season really reminded me how awful I’d have found Buffy/Xander and how glad I am that the show stops hinting at that after Becoming. Sorry, Xander. You can take solace in being … well, a loser with friends?

My biggest headcanon about them: Some time after Chosen Buffy definitely goes back to college and gets that English degree she deserves. I don’t want to think about Buffy living in a gloomy castle in Scotland and still being forever isolated from the world or about her becoming a cop with superpowers or whatever other nonsense the comics insist happens to her after the show ends. I want her to be able to have some time off and read some poetry and make Willow jealous academically.

An idea for a fanfiction I would like to write/read about them: One day I will finish my Season 7 rewrite in which Drusilla is the Big Bad and Faith gets broken out of prison earlier and Amy and Willow get to have a proper resolution and Kennedy is another Slayer from the start and Marcie and Ethan come back for cameos and people remember that Jesse and Kendra ever existed and Dawn actually gets something to do. But first I will probably have to start writing it.

Something that makes me think of them: Nothing makes me think of Buffy. I choose to be like this (for some reason).

#btvs #buffy summers #asks #thanks again!

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