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scuderiahoney · 1 month

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a hockey au social media au / mini blurb

notes: this is my very first social media au! thank you so much to @theemporium for making the notification lockscreen for me, and @lightsoutletsgo for smau inspiration, tips, and encouragement! bunnyrabb1t is y/n’s instagram! think that’s all!

bunnyrabb1t

liked by maxverstappen33, oscarpiastri and 56 others

bunnyrabb1t fall semester: ✔️

landonorris why

landonorris I look like a 5 year old on the first day of school

bunnyrabb1t the smartest 5 year old!!!

maxverstappen33 we are so proud of you son

landonorris I hate it here

charles_leclerc officially on bunny’s instagrammmm ✔️

carlossainz55 … where?

charles_leclerc on the ice!

carlossainz55 not sure that counts cabron

lilymhe the collage!! new project?

bunnyrabb1t maybeeeee

oscarpiastri great semester!

oscarpiastri cool pics!

oscarpiastri & a great grade in physics to top it off!

bunnyrabb1t look at us go!

landonorris

liked by bunnyrabb1t, maxverstappen33 and 221 others

landonorris mood

maxverstappen33 mood

charles_leclerc mood

carlossainz55 mood

alex_albon moon

georgerussell63 *mood

alex_albon fuck off

bunnyrabb1t mood???

landonorris why so unsure?

oscarpiastri she doesn’t play hockey, she will never understand

bunnyrabb1t i hate it here

The second he sees the notification that the grade has been posted, he texts you. He types and deletes and retypes the message at least a billion times. When he finally sends it, his heart is pounding harshly in his chest. He stares at the screen of his phone until his eyes burn. When it starts to buzz in his hand, he nearly jumps out of his skin.

“Hi,” he answers, hoping he sounds normal.

“Hey, Osc- is everything okay?” You ask, voice full of concern.

“Yeah, no, everything is fine,” he says, clearing his throat. “Sorry to bug you. I just saw that they posted the final grades for physics.”

You make a noise of distress, and he smiles softly at the sound. “Oh, god.”

“Thought we could check together?” He suggests, cringing at the way he says it and the idea itself. “I don’t know, I just thought maybe-“

“That would be really nice, actually,” you say, letting out a slow breath. “Let me go find my laptop, hold on.”

He waits on the line. He can hear you shuffling around in what’s probably your parent’s house. He wonders if you have a dog, or any pets. He’s never asked. He thinks of his family dog at home, who is staying with the dog sitter while his family visits him in the US this year, and something about that makes his chest hurt.

“Okay, I’ve got it, opening it now,” you say. “How’s your break been?”

He turns back to his own laptop on the desk. “It’s been good. Quiet, right now, because everyone’s at the hotel, but it’s been nice to have them here.”

“That’s awesome,” you say, sounding genuinely excited for him. “Got fun plans the next few days?”

“My mum makes the plans,” he replies, scrolling the wheel on his mouse absentmindedly. “I just roll with them.”

You laugh, and then he hears you sigh. “Okay. I’m logged in.”

“Ready?” He asks, quietly.

“No,” you sigh. “I don’t want to retake physics, Oscar.”

“You won’t have to,” he says, his cursor hovering over the View Final Grade button. “I know it.”

“Okay, okay, let’s just get it over with,” you say.

He wonders what you look like right now. He almost wishes he’d asked for a video call, because he finds that suddenly he misses seeing your face terribly. If he knows you well enough, you’re probably criss cross applesauce on the bed, lower lip pinched between your teeth, brows furrowed.

“Alright. Three, two, one…” he says.

He clicks the button. The screen lights up brighter, and he blinks. He’s got an A, no plus or minus, but it’s good enough. He’s happy about it. Then he hears you let out a long, slow breath, and his stomach sinks.

“What’s the verdict?” He asks, quietly.

You’re quiet for a few moments, and then you say, “B plus. Holy shit! I mean, I know it’s not an A but- I really thought I was going to fail-“

Oscar lets out a breath, then. “Fuck yeah! B plus is great!”

“A B plus means I don’t have to retake physics,” you say, and Oscar laughs.

“I knew you’d be fine,” he says, heading over to sit on his bed.

“Yeah, yeah, you told me so.” You say. “Couldn’t have done it without you, y’know.”

He flops onto his back on the bed, feeling his cheeks go red. Maybe it is for the best that it’s not a video call. “Yeah, you could’ve,” he says. “But it was nice to have a study buddy.”

You laugh at that. He thinks he can almost hear you rolling your eyes. He feels the silence stretch on for a few seconds- it’s comfortable silence, but the reason he called is over now. He doesn’t want to hang up. He wants to keep talking.

“Got any fun plans?” He asks, and when you launch into your answer, he smiles.

The conversation goes on for nearly an hour, by the time it’s all said and done. He stares at his ceiling and listens to your voice, chiming in when he’s needed or when he has something to add. But mostly, it’s nice to just listen. He’s missed hearing what you’re up to.

When you hang up, it’s with a promise to talk soon. The beep of the call ending makes his heart feel just a little heavy. He falls asleep with his phone still in his hand, and hopes he wakes up to a notification from you.

bunnyrabb1t added to their story

landonorris replied to your story: safe flight!

bunnyrabb1t thanks lan!

maxverstappen33 replied to your story: just remember the plane is in pudding!

bunnyrabb1t jello, max. but thanks. see you soon!

oscarpiastri replied to your story: safe travels! headed back to campus?

bunnyrabb1t yes!

bunnyrabb1t if you’re free we should hang out tomorrow?

oscarpiastri I am so free and so bored

bunnyrabb1t good news i’m great at curing boredom

maxverstappen33 added to their story

landonorris replied to your story: reppin the team even on break that’s our girl!

maxverstappen33 she said “ew stop” 🤢

landonorris yeah. that tracks

oscarpiastri replied to your story: Can you guys hurry back with the snacks?

maxverstappen 🙄

bunnyrabb1t added to their story

oscarpiastri liked your story

alex_albon replied to your story: can I have my girlfriend back?

bunnyrabb1t hold on let me ask

bunnyrabb1t she says my cooking’s better. soz albono

alex_albon :(

maxverstappen33 replied to your story: no invite?? 😔

bunnyrabb1t max in what world is this something you want to be invited to

maxverstappen33 I made so many collages with you while you were injured 😔

bunnyrabb1t this is a vision board not a collage

maxverstappen33 they look similar to me 😔

bunnyrabb1t they’re different. but we can make one the next time i come over

maxverstappen33 😌

find part 4 here!

main taglist: @4-mula1 @celestialams @struggling-with-delia @lovekt @i-wish-this-was-me @forzalando @iloveyou3000morgan @callsign-scully @arian-directioner @racingheartsposts @sakuramxchii @mynamejeff5

series taglist: @sourskywalker @ivyvlair @gwginnyweasley @annispamz @bearlul @aresriiots @ggaslyp1 @verstoppenheimer @black-fireproofs @smilinlemon @arieslost @floralkoi @vicurious28 @likedbygaslyy @rorabelle15 @bwormie @treatallwithkindness @fandomnerd11 @adhxmoony @sakuramxchii @insunia @mindflay3r @talking-raw @colmathgames2 @assholeinatrenchcoat t @saachiep81 @venusacrossthestars @v1naco @anthonylockwoodandco111 @whalebursoot-main @ellen3101 @k-pevensie28 @ninifee1802 @avg-golden-retriever @pleasecallmeunhinged @andruuu28 @aceofwordsandarrows @dreamsarebig @secretunnels @ginsengi @yayahnaise @f1petra @lovecarsgoingvroom

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msmk11 · 23 days

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The Hufflepuff Code

James Potter x gn!Hufflepuff!reader (no use of y/n)

Word count: 3.6k

CW: Use and discussion of weed, mentions of alcohol, light kissing, reader under the influence of weed, mentions of food and eating

Summary: You have a secret.... Or, at least, your Hogwarts house, Hufflepuff, does, and you can't tell your Gryffindor boyfriend James. Only problem is, your boyfriend is very charming and has an inclination for mischief. What could go wrong?

A/n: Hiiiii, I hope you enjoy! This work is vaguely based off the Harry Potter discourse on TikTok a few months ago, about what parties would be like in each Hogwarts house! Please don't take offense if you're a Gryffindor lol, I love them. Also, until I find a fancast for James Potter that I like (I imagine him as desi), I will be using ATJ.

Going to Hogwarts requires a lot of studying….something you are trying to do but failing, because a pair of hazel eyes can’t help but bore into your face. You double down into your books to avoid your boyfriend’s gaze, but his intensity only increases. He shifts from mute staring to pokes and silent whispers of your name.

Finally, you snap your head up and look at him, “what?!” You whisper.

“Just missed you s’all,” James says sheepishly.

Your heart can’t help but melt a little, “sweetheart, I’m right here.”

“Yeah but you’re studying and not paying attention to me.” He whines.

“Well, I did invite you to the library to study, not snog or make small-talk.”

James eyes light up, “oh that sounds like so much more fun. We should do that instead.”

“Sorry Jamie, as much as I’d love to, I can’t. Gotta study.”

He huffs and rolls his eyes dramatically, “fine. But I expect your full, undivided attention later.”

You cringe a little and guiltily avoid his sweet, beautiful face. “I-I’m sorry I can’t hang out later.”

“Baby,” he says rather loudly.

You shush him a little and grab his hands in apology, “I’m sorry, I made plans earlier this week.”

The brunette pouts at you and shakes his head, his mop of curls falling into his eyes as he does so, “with who?”

“My friends-“

“Friends? What friends?!” Your boyfriends protests.

You glare at him a little.

“Sorry, sorry,” he whispers, “I just mean, what friends could you possibly be hanging out with instead of me? I mean, I’m the bestest friend.”

You kiss one of his hands intertwined with yours, “I know, sweetheart, you are. But I need a little non-boyfriend-friend-time sometimes, you know?”

“Well-uh I can pretend to not be your boyfriend for a night,” he disagrees, “I can gossip and, do whatever your friends do.”

You chuckle a little, “I know you can, and honestly, I’m sure they will be happy to have you in the future. But that’s not the type of hangout we’re having.”

“Okay, so then what are you doing?”

“Burying bodies, holding seances, the likes,” you tease, trying to avoid a serious answer.

James just glares at you, not impressed by your jokes.

“Sweetheart, don’t be mad,” you plead, bringing out your puppy dog eyes, “promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he answers, dismissively waving his hand. “That I’m not concerned about anymore. What I really wanna know is what you’re getting up to tonight,” he says, quirking an eyebrow.

You’re pretty sure his eyes peer into your soul, trying to unleash all your secrets. It makes you shiver and look down at your paper.

“Oh you know, typical Hufflepuff things.”

“Hmmm?” He asks, shifting closer to you. “Like what?”

“Uhhh eating food, potting plants, being loyal.” You mumble out.

He gets closer and lifts your chin to make you look at him. James, the bastard, knows the effect he has on you. Teasing you with your closeness, knowing his cologne drives you crazy, his eyes make you melt, and his lips leave you defenseless. He licks his lip a little and you slightly groan.

“So you’d rather pot plants than spend time with me?” James asks quietly.

Words leave you at this moment and you only stutter a little. You try to lean in for a kiss, the tension unbearable, but he pulls back. “Nuh-uh.”

“You don’t get a kiss for lying.”

You whine a little. “I’m not lying, I’m just concealing some of the truth.”

“Why, love? Do you not trust me?”

Your face softens, noticing the slight sadness in his voice. You grab his face and brush his dark curls away from his eyes.

“No Jamie. It’s not that, it’s just- well it really is sort of a Hufflepuff thing. A code of conduct, you know?”

He furrows his brows, “uhh, not really, no.”

“Well, I’m sure Gryffindor has some traditions, right?”

James shakes his head, “well it’s sorta the same thing for Hufflepuff, just more secret.”

“But I won’t tell anyone” your boyfriend says softly, kissing your hand, “promise.”

“I know, sweetheart. It’s not that I can’t tell you, it’s well, I can’t tell-“ you hesitate.

“Who?”

“Gryffindors,” you say, quietly.

Confusion clouds his pretty face, “what d’you mean you can’t tell Gryffindors?”

You cringe and pull away, “I’ve said too much already, sweetheart. Sorry, house loyalty.”

He scoffs, “what about loyalty to me?”

“Don’t do that,” you tsk, “it’s really not that serious. Just silly house traditions, a little bit of rivalry, yeah?”

“Well then if it’s not that serious, just tell me,” he counters.

You groan. He’s really not gonna give this up.

“Fine,” you mumble. “Come on, let’s go somewhere more private.”

You gather your books and motion for him to follow. He stands up obediently and packs up his things before taking yours from you. As you walk down the halls, you find an empty classroom and push the two of you inside.

“You know if you wanted to get me alone, you could’ve just asked,” he teases.

You roll your eyes and slap his shoulder playfully, “pervert…just wanting to get in my pants.”

“Can’t help it when you’re so beautiful,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss to your lips.

You hum in content and lean into the kiss, holding onto his arms gently.

“Could keep you here all night,” he sighs against your lips, as his warm hands wrap around your waist.

You huff in disappointment and pull away a little, “you know you can’t Jamie baby.”

“Worth a shot.” He sits down on a desk and spreads his legs a little, letting you stand between them, “so if I can’t convince you to skip this tradition, then tell me what it is at least. And why can’t Gryffindors know?”

You sigh a little, “okay, don’t get mad, because I didn’t decide this, remember, it’s tradition.”

James pauses and then shakes his head for you to continue.

“So, basically, Hufflepuff, Slytherin, and Ravenclaw have this arrangement to have three annual parties. One hosted by Hufflepuff, one by Slytherin, and one by Ravenclaw.”

“And why not Gryffindors?”

You wrinkle your nose in awkwardness, “well…cause the other houses don’t really like Gryffindor all that much.” Before James can protest you add, “it’s not that we don’t like Gryffindors at all, it’s just, we don’t like when you’re all together. On your own or in small groups you’re fine. But in large party settings you guys get loud, and stupid, and well…..annoying. And, the other three houses got sick of it, so they decided to start hosting a few no-Gryffindor-allowed parties every year.”

James simply stares at you in silence. “And this has been going on for how long?”

“Uh, 20 years at least,” you say.

The boy’s mouth drops, “and no Gryffindor has ever found out?!”

“Not really, no. We keep it super secret.”

James scoffs, “I mean, well that’s sort of ridiculous don’t you think? Hosting secret parties just to keep us out?”

“Look,” you say gently, grabbing his knee, “I didn’t say I agree or disagree. It’s just tradition. And well, I’m not gonna be the one to break it.”

“So what do you even do at these ‘parties’?” he asks with a huff.

“Well Ravenclaw hosts the first, in the Fall, a sort of poker, gambling game night, but with lots of booze. Very classy actually, typical Ravenclaw. And Slytherin hosts next, right before Christmas. It’s a sort of Christmas, bougie, boozie party. Very swanky and jazzy. And Hufflepuff, well, that’s the crowd favorite. Held in second term.”

The brunette raises his eyebrows in curiosity.

“Basically we get a shit load of weed from our secret plant stash, and everyone gets high and eats food. We like, raid the kitchens before hand.”

“WHAT?!” James almost shouts.

You put your hand over his mouth to quiet him. “Shhh, people could hear.”

He takes your hand off. “Hufflepuff has a secret drug stash?! And you hide it from us?!”

“I mean, why do you think we’re so happy all the time?” you say, laughing a little.

“So you-but.”

Your boyfriend’s brain seems to malfunction, “damn, Hufflepuffs are druggies? My partner is a druggie?”

You let out a laugh, “I wouldn’t say druggie…just…plant-positive.”

“So…there. That’s my secret. But you can’t tell anyone. I have my dignity to uphold.” You warn.

“Can I at least come?!”

“No! I’m not even supposed to tell you. Let alone bring you!”

“But-“

“No. Im sorry James, I don’t make the rules.”

“But I wanna get high…and see you high.”

“Well, another time.”

Your tone was final, but James did not take it as such. Instead, he became more determined to find his way in to this mysterious party.

*****

After making James promise to not impose, you left him behind in the classroom with a kiss and a lot of regret. On one hand, you had just broken so many Hufflepuff rules… if anyone were to find out, you’d be shunned for sure. On the other hand, you also felt incredibly guilty for leaving James out. Your sweet boy with his soft eyes and kind smile… but also his loud personality and pranks. You knew he’d never mean any harm, but the likes of him at this sort of party would not be welcome. He’s the definition of Gryffindor. And of course you love him for it, but you’re not sure your peers would.

Back in your dorm, you throw your books down on your desk and then plop onto your bed.

“Long day?” Your friend Emmeline asks.

You groan, “terribly.”

“Good thing we have a chill night ahead of us,” she reminds you, plopping down next to you on your bed.

“Touché Emmy. I’m very ready for an edible and a bag of flaming hot Cheetos.”

“Mhmmm, and those chocolate chip cookies from the kitchens?”

We both sigh in content.

I can feel her staring at me. “Something’s wrong…”

You turn on your side and look at her, “yeah… I just, well, told James I couldn’t hang with him tonight because I had plans and I feel sorta bad… being all secretive you know? We don’t keep secrets.”

She hums in acknowledgement, “hmmm yeah, I get that. But I mean, it’s not like a bad secret y’know? Just tradition.”

“Which is what I told him but still..”

“You didn’t tell him, did you?” She asks, slight mortification on her face.

“No, course not,” you lie, turning back on your back. “Hufflepuff code n’all. Just hard having a Gryffindor boyfriend.”

“Yeah, babe, I know. But you only gotta lie a few times a year, he’ll never know the difference, yeah?”

“Yeah, you’re right. I’m overthinking this, I know.”

“Indeed,” the brunette answers, shoving your shoulders lightly. “Now come on, lighten up, we’ve got a fun night ahead of us.”

You smile and sit up, “yes you’re right.”

“Now, I know the vibe is obviously cozy, but I still wanna look cute y’know? What should I wear?”

You hop up and walk over to her closet. “Oh babe, you gotta do your yellow Hufflepuff sweatshirt. With your brown curls and pale skin, you look like freaking Belle from that muggle movie.”

She gasps, “a whole princess?! Wow, I’m flattered. And what about pants?”

“Leggings maybe? Something that makes your ass look good?”

“Take me to dinner first!” She squeals.

You laugh a little and wink, “sorry baby can’t help it.”

Her shoulder length curls bounce a little as she shakes her head at you.

You go into your own trunk as you strip off your school uniform and instead opt for black pajama pants and one of James’ t-shirts that has some muggle band on it. It still smells faintly of him and your heart aches a little at leaving him behind. You brush it off, though, when your other two roommates come in the room, grocery bags in hand.

“We’ve got the goods!” Amelia and Trinity cheer.

“My hot Cheetos?” You ask.

“Course,” Trinity answers, rolling their brown eyes, “this isn’t our first rodeo.”

You squeal and peck them on the cheek before giving Amelia a hug too.

“You guys are my favorite, you know that?”

“Better be,” Amelia huffs. “Otherwise we’d have words.”

You all excitedly chatter as you go through the groceries and get ready for the party.

Trinity ends up in Ravenclaw blue, which looks fantastic against their dark brown skin.

“Trying to impress anyone?” Emmy asks, quirking an eyebrow.

“Hmmm, maybe a certain Pandora Lovegood?” Amelia quips.

Trinity tries to hide a smile but can’t, “duh! She’s just so cute, especially when she’s high.”

“And Amelia? Trying to impress anyone?” You ask, scanning her dark gray sweater and black leggings.

“Nope!” She says, popping the p, “only here for me, myself, and I.”

You force everyone to gather on your bed and hold up your disposable camera, “smile everyone!”

You take a few photos, cute and silly, and then wander down to the common space.

The common room remains mostly the same, besides a few added bean bags and blankets for comfort.

A low, quiet base thumps in the background as people from all three houses lounge around. Amos Diggory, a seventh year, sits at the contraband table.

“What can I do for you folks tonight?” He asks.

Emmeline asks for a blunt, Trinity and I take an edible and Amelia shakes her head, motioning to her pen instead. We crash on the carpet, waiting for the weed to kick in. Everyone around us is laughing, chatting, and snacking, at different levels of gone.

When Pandora walks in, Trinity waves and motions her over. She’s followed by a few of her friends, including Regulus, Rosier, and Crouch.

“Baby Black?!” You cheer.

He rolls his eyes as he sits down next to you. “I thought I told you not to call me that?”

You shrug your shoulders and pat his cheek, “yeah, but I chose to ignore you. I love how cute you get when you pout.”

He can’t help but blush a little and he softens. You have a way with that boy, and he with you. Surprisingly, you are very close friends.

You turn and nod in acknowledgment to the other two, “Rosier, Junior. How’s it going?”

“Better once I’m high” Barty answers. He turns to his friends, “what do you want?”

They tell him and he stalks over, giving Amos a glare while he’s at it.

“Always the delight he is,” Amelia teases. Her eyes are a little heavy, telling me the pen is already working.

“So, Black? What brooding have you been up to recently?” Emmeline jokes.

You swat her arm and can’t help but giggle, maybe a little too hard. “Be nice.”

“Oh you know, just planning your demise” he answers with a smirk.

“I’m the subject of your brooding?” Emmy fake swoons, “I feel honored.”

You laugh again and hug Regulus around the neck, “am I ever the subject of your broodings?”

He looks at you with a small smile, “course. I think about killing you once a week.”

You gasp in fake offense and stick out your tongue. Barty, who’s back with the weed, hands Regulus a blunt. He takes it between his fingers and inhales. Then he looks at you and rolls his eyes again.

*****

James Potter is usually good at keeping promises. However, he’s even better at making mischief. So despite his promise to you to not come to the party, he finds himself a little while later outside the Hufflepuff dorms, albeit hidden under the invisibility cloak. From outside, the hallway is quiet. Any passerby would be oblivious to the party going on within- must be a silencing charm. Unsure how to get into the common room, realizing you hadn’t told him before, he waits outside for someone to, unknowingly, open it for him. He, luckily, doesn’t have to wait long, as two unsuspecting Slytherins stroll past him and up to the barrels sitting outside. In quick succession one pulls out their wand and quickly taps it across the barrels. The brown barrels jump apart, revealing a door. As the two walk in, James closely follows behind, assuring he doesn’t remain locked out.

Though you briefly explained the parties to James, his imagination far underestimated the reality. When you said all three houses went to these parties, you weren’t kidding. The place was packed, with every 4th year up from all three houses lounging around the badger den. The room was thick with smoke and reeked of marijuana. Students were everywhere, standing, lounging, laughing, eating, and even sleeping. Music played in the background, but no one was dancing, seemingly too high to really notice it. He scanned the room and found you in the thick of it all, seated on the carpet by the fireplace. You were with your dorm mates, Emmeline Vance, Amelia Bones, and Trinity Taylor, and also a few Slytherins. He recognized them all actually, one being Sirius’ little brother, who he knew you were actually good friends with. Also Rosier and Crouch, who he wasn’t as fond of, and Pandora, the one Ravenclaw he sorta knew.

Still hidden under his cloak, he weaves through the crowd, careful not to bump into anyone, afraid of getting caught. He throws himself into a corner by the fireplace, listening in on your conversation.

“But Reggie, you’d look so cute with dyed hair!”

The Black boy scoffs at you, “yeah right. What should I go for, bright pink?!”

Your eyes light up as you giggle, “yes! And I’d start calling you baby…. pink? Instead of baby black, cuz you know-“ you giggle again, “your hair would be pink!”

Your words sort of slur together, not that you realize it, and so Regulus only nods, himself also struggling to comprehend what’s happening.

“Wait, I think I have some dye, let me go get it!”

“Wait-“ Regulus calls out but you’ve already gotten up.

James’ heart jumps as you come closer to him, weaving through the crowd on the carpet…

*****

As you stumble towards the stairs of your dorm you freeze. You could’ve sworn you smelt... James’ cologne…..

You shift backwards a little and sniff again. Sure enough, his fancy cologne, one you love but always tease him about, permeates the air. Either you’re really high or….

You suddenly fling your hand outwards to the left. Though there is nothing next to you, you make hard contact with something in the air, and hear a small “oof” from next to you.

A chill runs down your spine and out of the corner of your mouth you mumble, “James. My. Room. Now.”

You don’t bother to hear an answer, knowing he’ll follow you like a lost puppy.

When you’re in your room you shut the door firmly behind you and whip around “James- what the hell.”

Your boyfriend appears before you, taking off the invisibility cloak sheepishly. “Hey, baby.”

“Don’t fucking hey baby me. What are you doing here?” You slur together.

“Uh, missed you?” He says hesitantly.

Your nose flares and you stalk towards him. “You. Fucking. Missed. Me?!” Each word is punctuated with a smack to his chest.

You don’t realize in your unsober state how hard you’re hitting him or how loud you’re talking. He tries to minimize his flinches as he grabs your hands and holds them together.

“Love I-“

“What? Wanted to risk me getting shunned?! Jamie I asked you not to come! I trusted you!!”

“I know lovie. I’m sorry, I just got jealous… and curious. It’s no excuse I know but…”

You huff and throw your head in your hands. It’s spinning for more than one reason, and the weed keeps you from thinking clearly.

“We’ll talk later. You, just stay here with your cloak, yeah?”

He sighs and nods.

His sad puppy dog eyes get to you and you soften a little, pressing a small kiss to his cheek.

You then walk towards the door and open it, only to find the whole of Hufflepuff standing outside your door, staring in shock.

“You, you broke tradition!” Amos Diggory yells, pointing at James.

“I- well- shit” you mutter.

“This is like, breaking the law,” another Hufflepuff argues.

You feel tears prick at your eyes, “I’m sorry guys I- uh.”

“Wait,” your boyfriend says.

Everyone goes quiet.

“It’s not their fault, honest.”

No one seems to believe him.

“Look, I got suspicious of what they’re up to, so I followed them, with my invisibility cloak on. Swear!” He even holds up the cloak, demonstrating its invisibility.

Everyone gasps, “no way, that’s fucking sick.”

“Please don’t punish them because I’m stupid and nosy! Please!” He pleads.

Diggory turns to the head prefects of the other two houses and quietly confer. After a few minutes of quiet whispers, Diggory turns back.

“Fine, fine, you’re off the hook,” he says to you.

“And as to you Potter, well, I guess you’re officially inducted into our little secret now. We can’t have you going around spilling. And I swear, if you tell any one of your little Gryffindor friends, all three houses will rain hell. Understood?”

Even you turn to James and raise your eyebrows. He really does feel a little threatened and nods. “Uh, yeah. Course.”

Diggory claps his hands together, “great! Well then, get Potter some weed.”

As everyone files out, James turns and looks at you nervously.

“Well?”

“You heard the man, let’s go get you some weed.”

“Okay, just- wait.” He grabs your wrist and pulls you flush into his chest.

He kisses you deeply, “love you, baby.”

“Love you too, sweetheart.”

#james potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter fanfiction #james potter fluff #james potter fic #marauders fanfiction #marauders era #the maruaders

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celestialwhoree · 2 months

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Mustang 🌵🏜️

The morning after dinner with Simon, you sit patiently on your porch swing, a chipped mug of coffee clutched in one hand, a pen knife balanced between the fingers of the other. Fortunately, the mornings aren't yet sweltering enough to wake covered in sweat and kick off the thin sheet from your bed. The sun still rises languorously over the horizon, and you wake with it.

Simon Riley is surprisingly pleasant, and you begrudgingly admit to yourself that Marlene had been right, perhaps you do need to get out more, meet new people, get over it. Perhaps you like him because he's like you. He's quiet, peaceful on the surface, undoubtedly roiling underneath. It's impossible to miss when you know the feeling so well. Tyres crunching on gravel snap you from your reverie, the black truck, some shiny new ford pulling in your driveway, cab doors swinging open to let its driver out.

"Nice." An appreciative eyebrow is raised in the direction of the truck, amusement barely hidden at its cleanliness. You struggle to imagine him spending meticulous hours cleaning the vehicle - when you do picture Simon Riley shirtless and suntanned, working meticulously to rid the truck of dust and dirt, you internally chastise yourself before walking down the rickety porch steps to greet him. "You left your pot." His gruff accent feels so odd to you still, so out of place whilst still being so somehow pleasant, sending shivers down your spine. "Shit. So I did." The enamel of your Dutch Oven is cool against your hands, chilled from the AC in his car. Still not used to the warmth, you suppose.

"You want a drink?" You hum as you wordlessly make your way back up the porch steps, Ness nipping at your heels as you usher Simon and the collie into your cozy kitchen, quick to shut the screen door behind you. "I got sweet tea, coffee, lemonade." "You got earl grey?" "Do I look like the type to have earl grey?" "Black coffee then, please."

Ness seems to like him. Good judge of character, you think. You hope. Maybe she likes him because of how similar he is to you, and you can't help but appreciate the newcomer as he pets the bicoloured ears of your pet. Your place is exactly how he pictured it'd be, cozy in a lived in sort of way, knickknacks scattered across the countertops and shelves and the occasional picture of what he can only assume is you as a kid strewn haphazardly. The coffee maker whirs quietly to life as you busy yourself with retrieving a plate of biscuits from the fridge, chucked in there to avoid the occasional fly that managed to get through the screen in the rushed moments where you failed to close it all the way.

"Biscuit?" "Just coffee is fine." "Your loss." You quip back, putting the plate back in its rightful place, by which time the coffee has brewed and you pour Simon a chipped mug full. "So, the fastback." Simon manages a little awkwardly, dwarfing your mug between his palms. "Ah, the elephant in my garage." The crappy joke makes you actually cringe, eyelid twitching as you angle your head back to the door, making your way to the garage, in which you pull the cover from the red painted mustang with an awkwardly executed flourish.

Upon assessing the car, Simon grunts out a quiet "Shit", turning to you with an almost concerned look. "You pay for this?" It seems weirdly as though he's mad, like anyone who charged you for this useless hunk of metal and rubber had committed some kind of sin, like they'd kicked a puppy or shunned god away. "No. No, guy said if I could fix it up it was mine." "Good. Cause it's worth fucking naught."

Simon spends the morning tinkering with the car. Pushes it out of the garage with pure brute strength so that he can look at it properly, says he'll fix your garage light whilst he's at it. When he appears at the kitchen door like a lost dog, cautious to shut the screen door, he can't help but appreciate the way you turn to face him, leaning the swell of your hip against the countertop. "The biscuit offer still open?" "You're fixing my shitty car and you already looked at my garage light. At this point I owe you more than just biscuits." You chuff.

The veteran can't help himself but to ogle your ass as you bend in front of your fridge to retrieve the biscuit plate, along with a jug of sweet tea and two chilled glasses.

"Prepared." "Ah, figured you'd get thirsty at some point."

There's something pleasant about the quiet of it all. Reminds him why he moved out here in the first place. The quiet nicker of horses and the sight of a beautiful woman making him lunch after spending hours out in the unforgiving heat. It makes him feel weirdly grateful, something he hasn't felt in a while. He's at your side as you rustle up some other food, something more substantial for a man of his size who's just spent four hours in the steadily boiling heat. He likes the way you don't flinch when a tentative arm slips around your waist to grab the glasses you'd set out on the counter, moving them to the table before returning to press his shoulder against yours.

"Need me to do anythin' else?" "Just stand there and be hot." Slips out before you can stop yourself, and your hand flies to cover your mouth, all whilst he stands, massive arms crossed against his chest with a smug. "Yes, Ma'am."

ᯓ★

Today felt like such a good day to write these two I promise I didn't forget about them!! I love them!! They're my emotionally wounded babies!!!

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arthenaa · 1 year

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Ominis Gaunt x GN! Reader ; fluff

He's addicted to your scent. <3 (Reader is not MC in this one)

Ominis knows you're near through your scent. It's your most distinct feature for him. Sebastian almost thinks it's comical with how fast Ominis knows you're there the moment your scent wafts in the room. You think it's cute how Ominis lights up like a little crup who gets to see his owner after a day of work.

It can also be a safe haven for the young Gaunt. It never fails to make him calm and at times, it helps him destress from the noise of the world. You had been standing for about 30 minutes in the halls of the Defense against the Dark Arts Tower. Arms wrapped around you, holding tightly against his chest and face buried on the crook of your neck is your boyfriend of 8 months, Ominis Gaunt.

"Ominis." You softly call him, hand caressing the arm around your waist. He lets out a soft hum, pulling you closer if that was even physically possible. "Ominis, love. We have to move."

It wasn't that you were positioned out in the open. Ominis had pulled you in a secluded corner where teachers and students rarely passed. It was because the Undercroft would be a much more fitting place to fully give your undivided attention to the needy boy behind you.

Sebastian had been called behind by Professor Hecat on certain concerns regarding his behavior in class (He had accidentally jinxed Leander Prewett during a duel in class and let's say he's been doing extra work for Professor Hecat as part of his punishment). You two had initially tried to wait for him. However, Ominis, who was unusually clingy during class (always sticking close to you wherever you went), had pulled you to a secluded corner, thus your present situation.

"Sebastian's still with Hecat." Ominis muffled against your neck. He presses a chaste kiss against your pulse, which sends a shiver down your back. "Let me enjoy this."

"You can enjoy this in the safety of the Undercroft." You giggle as he presses more kisses, ascending to the side of your face. He stops, burying his nose in your hair.

"You smell nice."

"Creep." You tease to which he scoffs jokingly.

"I'm your boyfriend." He mumbles as he places his head back on your neck. You lean back against him with a smile.

"Doesn't excuse you being a perv."

"Rude."

"This is nice. I always love being near you. It helps me zone out whenever Sebastian rambles on and on about his little crush on the new fifth year." Ominis lifts his head to place his chin on your shoulder. You let out a soft laugh.

"I'll be sure to tell him that." You smile. "You're like a little crup, you know?"

"Are you calling me a dog?" Ominis lifts his head in amusement, turning his head to the direction of your voice. You look up at him, giggling.

"Cause you act like one. Sebastian tells me you've got a great sense of smell when it comes to me. I think that's a talent."

Ominis flushes at the information. He's become too aware of your presence that he unconsciously developed a sensitive nose to your smell. He's in love! What was he supposed to do?

"Aw, are you embarrassed?" You tease, pinching his cheeks. He only pouts, moving his arms from your waist to wrap around your arms.

"Well, deal with it cause I'm going to be stuck to you like a niffler with a coin." He mumbles, smiling against your hair. You turn towards him, his arms loosening in the process. Your arms pull him into a hug as you look at him with a smile.

"Wouldn't that be a dream?" You grin before pecking his lips. He lets out a small laugh before hugging you close. Too immersed with each other, both of you fail to notice two Slytherins standing a few pillars away with varying looks on their faces. One with disgust and one with sadness.

"I don't know how you do it, Sallow." Imelda continues to cringe as she watches the couple in front of her. "I'd want to fall off my broom daily if they do that in front of me."

Sebastian elbows her on the side, causing her to groan and writhe in pain. She gives him a glare, to which he responds with a sigh. "When will it be my turn to be happy?"

_______________________________________________

A/N: i love ominis

#ominis x reader #ominis gaunt x reader #hogwarts legacy x reader #hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt

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derinthescarletpescatarian · 21 days

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the new game changer is so fucked. maybe the best thing they’ve ever done. ended with multiple contestants on the floor. lots of brennan gazing off into the middle distance. top tier game changing.

It's such a great episode. Fantastic premise, fantastic execution, one million kudos to that incredibly brave PA being pushed through some terrible cringe moments. And you can see mechanics-minded Brennan the whole time just thinking "this game doesn't make any FUCKING SENSE"

Also Raph completely failing to roast Brennan, and Katie's elderly dog impersonation, were fucking hilarious.

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according2thelore · 3 months

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LITERALLY that "dad I'm gay and stronger than you" post had me like ..! my friend and I have been screaming for A Week Straight about the concept of Actual Child Monarch boykingofhell!Sam manifesting his powers early on and just. he and Dean figuring this is probably just another one of those Things We Don't Tell Dad. like, Sam who always knows where the radar traps will be on the interstate, and Sam jedi-whammying the motel clerk into forgetting their overdue payments... John flipping his absolute shit when he finds out; Sam being like "you can't stop me" and John being like "... You're /twelve/, yes, I can" and Sam being like "uh. you're just a guy, dad. I have all of hell at my disposal. do your worst, I guess???" John figuring that if he can't exorcize the hell outta Sam, he can at least make sure Sam can't get out of hell; telling Dean that he really tried but that the demonic forces killed Sam before John could save him; smash cut to early-20s Dean in his first year of solo hunting encountering a crossroads case, where the vics freak out anytime they're alone with him because "can't [he] see that massive fucking hellhound trailing after [him]?!" and the crossroads demon who can't believe who they're looking at when he finally gets them cornered. crossroads demon who smokes out under exorcism, but not before telling Dean "your brother wants to see you"

...anon...holy shit anon...

you are so correct!!

i think that in this situation (growing up with (to his knowledge) a dead sam, and a dad that "let" him die) dean would be more than passively suicidal. he doesn't care about himself, he failed. sam is dead. dean gets reckless, but he just barely avoids dying more than once, just a hairsbreadth.

he drinks until he can't walk straight, gets in the car, and wakes up in the motel parking lot. he goes half-cocked into a werewolf hunt, and he's sure that there's a werewolf behind him about to take him out (and isn't going to stop it, not really), but when he finally gets his finger around the trigger and turns around, the werewolf's ten feet away looking blank and confused. he puts a nominal effort into stitching up a bullet hole, doesn't even bother digging the slug out, and passes out in a random motel. next morning, the bullet's on the nightstand, and the stitches are even and tight. it's not enough to be completely concerned--hell, dean's borderline black-out drunk at any given moment, can't remember the last time he was completely sober--but it's...weird.

animals suddenly hate his fucking guts. dean used to tease sammy about it, about the fact that animals seemed to love dean and hate sammy. they would cringe away from sam's touch, skitter out from under his feet. birds would land on the impala if dean was driving, deer would poke their heads out of the woods if he walked past. but now...dean can't remember the last time he even saw a dog.

they just...flee. even at witnesses' houses, dean sees food bowls and chew toys and hears nails clacking on wood upstairs, but they tuck tail and run as soon as he knocks on the door.

after that first case, that first crossroads case where they name the thing, a Hell Hound...dean thinks it's bullshit. he's heard of black dogs, but this is new. it's weird.

he names it hooch. he and sam had seen that movie at a drive-in one summer, and he figures he's kind of fighting crime, right? he jokingly orders an extra patty on his burger and leaves it out for his imaginary dog, and the next morning it's gone. on the next hunt, the vampire doesn't even come within fifteen feet of dean before something rips its leg off at the knee.

when he calls the demon, it keeps looking down at dean's feet warily, back and forth, like something is pacing between them, something low. the demon keeps giving vague non-answers, distracted, and dean slaps his thigh, calls, 'hooch. down, boy.' and the demon...stops.

then those words...your brother wants to see you your brother wants to see you yourbrotherwantstoseeyou YourBrotherWantsToSeeYou.

dean is apoplectic. he finds the colt, finds the gate, heads into hell without a second thought, muttering to hooch the whole way (you better fucking rip some demons up you lazy son of a bitch).

sam's eyes are yellow, all the way through. bright yellow. he's huge. grown. beautiful. it's everything dean never thought he'd get to see. he dreamed about sam being this old, about sam having hands that dwarf a machete handle, of shoulders that blot out the stars.

sam doesn't react at first, knows that dad sent dean on a solo hunt before it all went down, but doesn't know how much dean knew about it, about dad locking him down here. dean doesn't even question why he's on a throne, why demons flank him on either side, heads bowed, why no demons even tried to stop dean from getting here, why they flinched away from him like something would swoop out of the dark and steal them if they brushed his shoulders.

"sammy," dean says--begs, really--for the first time in years, sam's smile falters. his eyes are hazel again, and his bottom lip trembles, and dean begs, "come with me, come home. please."

maybe it works, and they leave, and dean pulls sam into a hug so vicious that they both cry. maybe sam works from afar, and they relearn each other. their first hunt is ripping john winchester's head from his shoulders and trading kisses in his blood.

or maybe it doesn't. maybe dean stays, because they won't be separated like this, not again. the world's got other hunters, and dean has sam, and the rest of it can go fuck itself.

and sam has the life he's always wanted: power. respect. love. dean. (those last two are the same, really). and a dog, that keeps stealing dean's shoes.

anyway anon...much to think about...i love this...and you, coincidentally, mwah.

you and your friend galaxy-brained this one i fear.

-lizzy

#ask box #boy king of hell sam winchester #lizzy answers #wincest #wincest fanfiction #lizzy writes

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aspitefulwriter · 4 months

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OUT OF TOUCH [Ch. 5]

(Poe Dameron x AFAB!reader)

warnings: mentions of someone getting verbally assaulted and beat (not reader); also a man in his sassy era

author’s note: I post on ao3 first!! :)

MINORS FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, DON’T INTERACT

word count: ~2.7k

Series Masterlist

It had been a day or so past the incident where you had assaulted Poe, and it was just within the past few hours that you could actually look him in the eyes while either of you talked. The entire aftermath had been horrifying for you thus far, and if you think about it for too long, you cringe. To occupy yourself, you asked if it was possible to get your hands on a decommissioned ship and tinker around with it. When the request was approved, you felt joy you hadn’t felt since escaping from the Order. You didn’t want to complain, but it was hard to be happy when the same nightmare woke you up every night.

Which is why you’re now crouching on the floor of the hanger, situated under a wing, and trying your hardest to do something to it. It’s been a few hours since you first got it, and it was getting to the point where the thought of quitting replaced any other thought in your mind given nothing was budging. Maybe they did this intentionally.

As your wrench slips off of the bolt again, you let out a groan. Your mood is only exacerbated when you hear footsteps fall behind you, and you close your eyes in waiting to hear whatever he is going to say.

Poe snickers, “You know, it would probably be easier to take the entire thing apart compared to whatever you’re trying to do.”

You shoot a glare behind your shoulder to your newly appointed guard and find a grin beginning to lift the corners of his mouth. With a small shake of your head, you go back to your attempt at getting this bolt out. To at least have one success today.

“I guess I’ve been thinking wrong about your role with the Resistance. All this time, I thought you were just a glorified lap dog, but apparently, you’re a droid as well.” The wrench slips off of the bolt again and you let your arm weakly fall to your side as you rub your temple with your free one.

There’s a silence filled with the sounds of the hanger before Poe responds, “I know you probably think that’s an insult, but droids are super useful.”

A small laugh escapes you and you take the rejuvenation as a chance to continue trying to take out a bolt, but the wrench still won’t catch its curves. Throughout your entire time sitting next to this machine, you’ve done nothing but move to different sections with each failed attempt at even taking it apart. You take the hint with a sigh, deciding to call it quits. With a grumble, you toss the wrench down and slide a hand down your face in exasperation.

“And you know, that’s what I’ve been trying to do, but all of these stupid bolts are practically stripped.” You turn your head to where he’s standing behind you, cooly sipping the caf he just came back with. After a moment of just watching you, he takes another sip while walking, then crouches next to you to get a better look. He hums after appraising it and stands back up.

“Yeah, they’re definitely stripped all right. I would help, but I don’t have the upgrades yet to take those kinds of bolts out.” He lifts his hands and makes a turning motion starting with his wrists, mimicking a droid. You roll your eyes.

“I could go get a buddy of mine for a price.” A smile begins to lift the corners of his lips, with you fighting the one on your own that wants to match his. It physically pained you that you were on the cusp of giving him the satisfaction of laughing at his behavior again, but you cave, your face getting warm with the effort of holding it in.

You let out an airy chuckle, “I’m afraid the only thing I have to offer here is a cup of caf. Other than that, you’re out of luck.”

“Then I’m in luck because I was just starting to run out.” He shakes his cup so you can hear its nearly empty sloshing.

You stand up from your crouch to be closer to his height than you were and motion to the cup, “Didn’t you just come back with that?”

He shrugs, “...So, do you want me to get BB?”

You shake your head, “No, this thing is out of commission anyway. I was just using this to give me something to do.” Poe’s eyebrows begin to pull together and he opens his mouth as if he wants to talk, but nothing comes out.

“Actually…this is one of our backup fighters.” Your mouth falls open slightly in disbelief. There’s no way this hunk of junk has any chance of going up against a First Order fighter.

“You’re lying–” You cross your arms across your chest, “I specifically asked for a decommissioned ship. Why would you guys give me a backup fighter?”

“Maybe people are starting to trust you,” he shrugs again and takes another sip from his cup.

You point back at B-wing that has rust flaking off of it with every breath of a breeze that comes into the hangar. “That thing is hardly near the condition to be put into battle. It’s basically a death trap.”

“I wouldn’t say it’s a death trap, necessarily.” He hands you his now-empty cup, which you take without questioning, and lifts himself to get into the cockpit. “Look.” He says, but now you start to question his decisions.

“Wha–Poe…” You step closer to him, your head now at where his feet are dangling as he shimmies in.

You gawk at him, “That is definitely not safe. Get down.”

He shoots you an amused look when he’s seated, “You said I sounded like a droid and now here you are sounding like a mother.” You purse your lips in aggravation. The nerve of this guy. B-wings aren’t something to play with.

“Someone clearly needs the influence if they’re attempting to fly a machine of certain death.”

He laughs and playfully rolls his eyes, “You know, you’re pretty funny. Maybe not as funny as me, but you’re up there.” Your eyebrows pull together, and you try to get a response, but he’s lifted into the air before you’re able to.

At the sound of the engine struggling to start, you take a few paces back on the off-chance the engine explodes and you wince at the noises it lets out once it comes alive.

Out of nowhere, someone steps in front of the fighter to direct him out and you mumble expletives under your breath. He’s going to get himself killed. With a sigh, you run over to the person, shouting, “Hey! What are you doing? This thing isn’t cleared for take-off!”

“It is if I’m standing in front of it. I’m only here because it was cleared.” She continues to direct Poe with the sticks in her hands, backing up slowly. You step away too and throw the cockpit a look of utter confusion as Poe just waves at you. In return, you twirl your index finger by your forehead mouthing ‘You’re crazy.’

He laughs, pumping his fist excitedly. You stand there until he’s out of the hangar completely, making enough space for when he decides to take off, which he quickly does–a plume of white smoke following him. You stare up at the sky as he recklessly does tricks and flips, the rest of the people outside also stopping what they’re doing to watch him. You look around at all of the people you know are stroking his ego and you shake your head. With a sharp turn, you walk back into the hangar and throw the cup you’ve been holding into the trash before walking back to your room.

-----

Little time passes before you hear the door to your room open, and you look from your point on the bed to the strutting man who walks in with shameless confidence. With an unamused grunt, you turn your attention back to the holopad and the manual pulled up for the B-wing starfighter.

“Did you have fun?” You don’t spare a glance at him as he sits down next to your legs.

“Proving you wrong? Absolutely.” You give him a quick unimpressed look before going back to your reading material.

He leans in a little, not being able to help himself from being nosey. “What are you reading?”

“I’m just further cementing the idea that what you did was reckless and dangerous and the people here need to stop enabling you.”

He laughs, “If everyone were to do that, they’d lose the best pilot in the galaxy.”

Your eyebrows pull together and put your attention on him, “Is that what you call yourself?”

He leans away from you and it looks as if he puffs out his chest before he responds, “It’s what I’m known for.”

You give an amused huff, drawing your eyes back to the pad, “Clearly must be the reason why I had never heard of you and your tricks before I switched sides.”

“Ouch.” He fake winces and grips the middle of his chest, the fabric of his shirt wrinkling in his hand. Seeing he didn’t get your attention, he releases his chest and leans down to where his elbows rest on his knees. A comfortable silence stills between you, the only other sound heard being the two of your breathing and the slide of your finger up the holopad as you scroll.

Just as you’re beginning to melt into your bed since Poe’s arrival, he ruins the silence with his agitating, grating voice. “I wasn’t done with that caf, by the way.”

You drop the holopad to your chest, the clap of it hitting your chest echoing the walls. “It was empty.”

He hums, “I could’ve kept using it.”

You tsk and roll to your side, facing the wall and pulling up the manual again. Unbeknownst to you, Poe’s eyes trail to the exposed skin from where your shirt is pulled against your mattress, a deep need filling his body to just touch it and slide his hands up and down your back. He wanted to know what it felt like as he held you, to rest his head in the place where your neck meets your shoulder…know what sound you would give him if he licked there. The twitch of his cock interrupts his thoughts and he stands up with a harsh cough. You look over your shoulder with concern, “Are you okay?”

“My throat’s a little dry with the reminder you threw my cup away. I’m gonna go grab something.” He goes to leave in a hurry to hide his quickly wakening problem.

“General Leia made a poor choice to have you as my guard. You don't do it very well,” you say, a hint of disapproval in your voice.

“I didn’t ask for this position,” he snaps, so you can either join me or shut up.” At his words, he can hear the rustle of your sheets as you turn, and he can only imagine the look you’re giving him right now. If he wasn’t overstimulated at the prospect of you finding his dick hard, he’d probably laugh.

“Okay, fine…Maker.” He takes a quick glance at you as you slide up into a sitting position to grab your shoes at the end of the bed and put one on. “I guess it’ll be my job to save yours,” you grumble.

As you put on the other one, he looks away from you and subtly tucks his issue under his waistband, hoping you’re still fooling with your shoes. Gliding a hand down his middle and past his waistline, he tries to check to see if anything is visible. He releases a low sigh of relief at his check, and the huge weight of anxiety leaves his body when he looks back at you and sees you’re just now standing up, mumbling under your breath as you glare at the floor.

As expected, you shoot him the same glare you just killed the floor with and he receives it with a smile. Your eyes flit across his face, perplexed at his sudden mood change.

“You give me whiplash,” you say with a tone of irritation, walking past him and out of the door. He quickly follows, the sound of the set of your feet hitting the floor echoes in the hall of the base as he smiles to himself. There are only a few paces done before he responds.

“The feeling’s mutual, sweetheart,” he rubs at the places where your hands connected to his chest a few days ago, “I can still feel the whiplash you gave me right here.” With the last sentence, he decides that instead of rubbing at the spots, he should point at them with his index fingers and make a sort of puppy frown face as he does so. You take a look at him from the corner of your eye and shake your head.

“Don’t remind me,” you briefly close your eyes to will the memory of the interaction away. You couldn’t believe he gave you the option to stay in your room and still decided to go with him anyway. As if to dig into the ever-growing wound, he doesn’t let up.

He gives a dry laugh and claps both of his hands on your shoulders, lightly shaking you as the two of you walk, “Trust me, I’m never letting you live that down.”

You reciprocate his laugh in a more mocking manner and slide his hands off of your shoulders, “I never expected you to. That would require you to be a little more mature.”

He’s silent for a moment.

“To be fair, you’re not the first one to have shoved me based on a rumor, so maybe I should just add you to my story list and call a truce.” You nod while he pauses, “But that wouldn’t be fun. It brightens my day to see Miss Former Commander embarrassed.” He grins as he waits for your response while staring at your face.

You only look at him blankly before you go back to looking straight ahead.

He sighs dramatically, “Okay, okay, I get the point. I’ll leave it for another day.” Silence hangs between the two of you momentarily before he breaks it, “Sorry for snapping at you, there’s…not really an excuse for it...” He trails off and rubs the nape of his neck while looking at the floor.

The two of you get to the doors of the cafeteria and you face him, “Water under the bridge. It’s pretty mild compared to the things I’m used to.” You offer a light smile to show him that you’re okay, especially his apology bandage helping heal the horror. He reciprocates your smile and gives a single nod. The two of you stare at each other, the break in the conversation making you slightly awkward before you hear a crowd shouting in the caf. Your smiles turn into concern just as you trigger the doors.

When they open, your attention is immediately drawn to a crowd that is situated in the middle of the room, three people being surrounded by it as several encourage whatever is happening. You tsk and relax, your thoughts of something more serious going on puffing out of existence.

There’s either an arm wrestle or some kind of food-related bet going on, you think. As you both walk towards the commotion, it becomes more evident that a fight is happening rather than a tame bet, the sounds of flesh meeting flesh and a lone groan coming from the middle of the crowd.

You and Poe exchange a concerned look again and the two of you push through the crowd. The people you shove past hurl nasty insults to whoever is being attacked; some along the lines of ‘You don’t belong here,’ ‘You’re going to get everyone here killed,’ ‘You’re a waste of resources.’ As you hear each one, you bristle more and more as you know exactly who such kinds of insults would be used against. When you break past the last line of people surrounding the three, your fears are confirmed.

Denel is being attacked.

#enemies to friends to lovers #enemies to lovers #poe dameron #poe dameron smut #poe dameron x female reader #poe dameron x reader smut #poe dameron angst #poe dameron x you #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron/reader

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soulessjourney · 6 months

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We Go Down Together (Part 1)

Paring: Rhysand x Reader

Word count: 2.1k

Summary: Many believe that everyone is destined for love, but what if that assumption wasn't always accurate? Love should be perceived more as a weapon than a certainty. We're often fed tales of knights saving princesses and their ensuing romance. But what if this narrative were misguided? What if the story revolved around a villain who fought desperately against falling in love with the king, knowing that their love would unleash catastrophic consequences upon the world?

Warnings: Mentions of violence and death

Many believe that everyone is destined for love, but what if that assumption wasn't always accurate? Love should be perceived more as a weapon than a certainty. We're often fed tales of knights saving princesses and their ensuing romance. But what if this narrative were misguided? What if the story revolved around a villain who fought desperately against falling in love with the king, knowing that their love would unleash catastrophic consequences upon the world?

This notion might elicit laughter. Parents would likely alter the story, introducing a new character to better conform to the traditional roles. Villains, conventionally, aren't permitted to experience love; they're destined to endure perpetual solitude and suffering. After all, their purpose seems to be inflicting pain and leaving others to suffer, isn't it? Perhaps it's time to reconsider this way of thinking.

You weren’t entirely sure where things went wrong in your life. It could have been when your father initiated an all-out war with the rest of Prythian, or when you were born as the daughter of Hybern. Your childhood was no easy task, as your father insisted that you follow in his footsteps—a path you neither liked nor agreed with. He was many things, but a truly heartless man was one of them. Concern for your well-being never seemed to exist; his sole preoccupation lay in ensuring that you, his only heir, carried on his legacy. Your mother had fled from your father when you were young, but you suspected she might have met an untimely end.

Standing in front of the mirror, you smoothed your hands over your dress, releasing a shaky sigh. While working alongside Tamlin’s father, he had arranged a marriage between the two of you for political reasons. To him, you were merely a pawn in his political machinations. The dress, by your standards, was hideous. The gold accents clashed against the white fabric, and the shoulder piece made you cringe. Your hair was twisted into a low bun, saved only by a flower hairpin securing it in place. A soft knock interrupted your thoughts, and the door creaked open, revealing Tamlin dressed in a suit echoing the theme of your attire.

“You look beautiful,” he uttered softly, his eyes meeting yours in the mirror. Tamlin appeared worn out and as weary as you felt. He had pleaded with your father to reconsider the wedding, his heart belonging to another. And you? You had surrendered to your father's will the moment he threatened to strip away any remaining shreds of your freedom.

“Don’t lie. We both know these outfits are a fashion disaster,” you remarked, forcing a smile that failed to reach your eyes. Tamlin, like you, was trapped in the political game, suffering just as you were. He had endured much, compelled to abide by his father’s decisions, much like you.

Chuckling, he stepped closer, adjusting his clothing. “We don’t have to do this, you know. I can still find a way to get you out,” he proposed. The idea had been suggested multiple times, but you knew that if you attempted to escape, your father would unleash Amerantha to hunt you down like a dog. Tamlin was aware of the risks in aiding your escape, yet he consistently offered you the option, for which you were immensely grateful.

Glancing out the window, you observed the gathering crowd preparing for the event, but something felt profoundly amiss. Perhaps it was the stark reality of the forced marriage now unfolding, or the piercing sensation of Amerantha's gaze fixed upon you from a distance. Turning to Tamlin, you nervously bit your lip, allowing your thoughts to wander. “What if I agree this time? Do you truly believe you could get me out without my father’s lap dog noticing?”

Tamlin froze, his eyes widening before swiftly checking the door, ensuring no one would intrude. “I could, but we need to act now. If we delay, the opportunity for your successful escape will close, and we’ll both be ensnared in this game,” he declared, crossing the room to a concealed passageway. He pressed against the wall, revealing a hidden door. “There's a passage beneath the castle that will lead you just outside the woods. Run from there as fast as you can, and don't look back,” he instructed, grasping your hand and guiding you toward the entryway. “I'll distract Amerantha. We know she's been after me, so use this chance to escape,” he murmured before pulling you into an embrace. “You have to survive this. You're nothing like your father; you have to believe that,” he whispered into your hair before ushering you through the door.

Stepping back, you watched him close the door, sharing a silent goodbye. As soon as the door shut, you counted to ten, attempting to steady your nerves before sprinting down the tunnel, the echo of your footsteps resonating through the empty passageway. Reaching the end, you scanned the area and noticed a smaller door obscured by vines. Clearing them away, you pushed against the door, groaning when it refused to budge. The hairs on your neck stood on end as voices echoed in the tunnel, calling out your name. Desperation to escape surged within you. Slamming your shoulder against the door, you stifled a yelp as pain shot through it. As the voices drew closer, your urgency to flee intensified. Pushing against the door one last time, blinding light greeted you, followed by the gentle sounds of birds. Looking up, you realized Tamlin had been right; the exit led right to the edge of the woods. Gathering your dress, you dashed into the forest without a backward glance.

Rhysand sensed trouble the moment he arrived at the Spring Court with his father. Chairs were arranged neatly, and the garden adorned as if for a wedding. Rage fueled him as he surveyed the scene. Having recently lost his mother and younger sister, he found the Spring Court seemingly celebrating. His gaze locked onto Tamlin and his father before his own father scoffed, advancing closer.

"Nice of you to dress up for our arrival, Eldric," his father sneered, moving in.

"To what do we owe the pleasure of this visit, Dorrian?" Eldric replied, narrowing his gaze at the High Lord. Rhysand couldn't tear his burning gaze away from Tamlin, standing uncomfortably beside his father, avoiding eye contact. Tamlin seemed nervous, and Rhysand wondered what had him so on edge.

"Well, I heard there was a celebration. Imagine my surprise when I found out I wasn't invited. Couldn't be because you murdered my wife and child in cold blood, could it? No, maybe my invitation just got lost in transit." Dorrian was many things, but patience was his greatest asset in situations like these. His father enjoyed toying with those who defied him, relishing in their eventual breakdown.

"Unfortunately, you haven't missed much as our main event… got away." Something in those words made Rhysand cringe. Observing Tamlin again, it finally clicked—the reason for their words: a wedding. Tamlin appeared to be the groom, but who was the bride? Knowing his father's political involvement, it could be anyone from a powerful family. This could explain Tamlin's guilt; he was likely the cause for the event's cancellation.

"Rhysand, stay here with Eldric's son. I have matters to discuss with him. Do nothing until I tell you," his father ordered, casting a fiery gaze at Eldric, who smiled in a way that would hasten his demise far sooner than Rhysand wished. Nodding in compliance, he watched them walk away, disappearing from sight.

"Rhys, I'm sorry for what happened. I had no idea my father would go that far," Tamlin began. Raising his hand, Rhysand shook his head. If he listened to Tamlin speak any further, he might lash out, inviting trouble with his father.

"Don't even try, Tamlin. I don't want to hear your excuses. Do you understand what it's like to discover your mother was murdered? Your little sister? She was just a child, Tamlin. Lyra had dreams, a future. And you and your family took that away from her. You stole the life of a child, and your father has the gall to smile about it. And you? You're getting married right after your family ended their lives, celebrating it as if it's an accomplishment," Rhysand spat, shaking his head in disbelief.

Tamlin opened and closed his mouth before nodding. Just as Tamlin attempted to speak again, a piercing scream tore through the building. Moments later, Dorrian emerged, wiping blood off his hands.

"Congratulations, Tamlin. You're now a High Lord. I'll stop my son from killing you, but you're no longer on good terms with the Night Court," Dorrian stated curtly.

Rhysand turned to his father, shaking his head. Tamlin's family had just been slaughtered, and he was expected to keep him alive? How was that fair? Tamlin knew of Eldric's plans and said nothing. They were supposed to be friends, yet Tamlin kept this crucial information from him. He had kept silent, and it cost Rhysand his mother and sister. Clenching his fist, Rhysand shot Tamlin one last look before storming out. He needed space, needed air before he lost control.

Winnowing to the edge of the woods, he walked along the path, the sun beating down on his tanned skin. As he licked his lips, something gold caught his eye. Stopping abruptly, he noticed a young woman struggling with her dress, caught on something.

He focused on the ghastly pattern of the dress, letting realization sink in. The dress matched Tamlin's suit, indicating that this was the woman he was to marry—the one who had fled. She was undeniably beautiful, drawing him in with her vibrant personality. Perhaps it was the cascade of colorful words that escaped her lips as the dress tore, or her defiant kick at the log holding the fabric captive. Her demeanor brought a smile to his face as he observed her. Approaching cautiously, he halted at a safe distance and cleared his throat.

"If this isn’t a damsel in distress, I don’t know what is," he remarked, crossing his arms and leaning against a nearby tree.

The young woman snapped her head up, huffing as she raised an eyebrow. "And are you supposed to be my knight in shining armor? Should I play the part and pretend I’m in distress?" she retorted, giving one last tug at her dress, finally freeing herself from the fabric.

Rhysand snorted, shaking his head. "No, if anything, I’m thoroughly entertained watching you rather than attempting a daring rescue from the scary log," he quipped, his violet eyes scanning the dress, pausing at the uneven tear along its side. "What brings you out here anyway? Looks like you were meant to be getting married," he inquired, straightening up as she shot a fiery glare in his direction.

"I decided to skip the wedding and run away. Why do you care anyway? It doesn't concern you," she grumbled.

"You’re right, it doesn’t. But that doesn’t mean I’m not at least curious why you're out here alone. The least the groom could've done is ensure your safety, so you wouldn’t be vulnerable to harm," he replied.

"Are you thinking of hurting me?" she asked, raising a brow, adopting a more intimidating stance. It struck Rhysand with astonishment. She made a valid point, especially since he had floated the idea.

"No, in fact, I’m the last person who would want to hurt you," he admitted, averting his gaze from her. There was something about her that intrigued him, a compelling allure that made him feel a need to protect her. A snort escaped her lips, drawing his attention back.

"What's your name anyway? Might as well let me know so I know who to haunt if I end up dead," she chuckled, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Her sense of humor strangely put him at ease. But at the sound of a twig snapping, her head jerked towards the noise before she cleared her throat. "I should go. Enjoy your stroll in the woods," she said, darting away once more, leaving Rhysand lost in thought.

"Rhysand," he whispered as if she could somehow hear him. He turned his head towards a figure standing next to him, tensing as he saw his father shaking his head.

"No wonder she ran from marrying Tamlin; she wasn't meant for the Spring Court," his father remarked, his gaze fixed on the retreating figure of the woman. "Promise me one thing, son. Stay far away from her if you ever cross paths," Dorrian urged, keeping his eyes trained on her direction.

"Why? She seemed harmless. She had a battle with a log over her dress. I doubt she could harm me or you," Rhysand questioned, raising a brow, facing his father, awaiting an explanation.

"Because she's a liability and a danger to both you and your future," Dorrian murmured cryptically.

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sea-salted-wolverine · 9 months

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Story time from fish camp: content warning for the god damn dog

So, yeah, fish camp, forget connecting with nature, nature's connecting with you at high-speed impact via fish gut. Yes, the damn dog deserves every ounce of derision, buckle up, here we go.

Let's preface this by saying the dog does not go to fish camp. He stays at home. We are all aware of this issue. No one was surprised by this chain of events. Well, maybe the dog was surprised because he has half brain cell bouncing around in his useless skull but no one else was surprised.

So Adak is a gorgeous dog. He is a specimen of his breed. He goes out in public on a leash and strangers walk up and ask about his stud. We are talking kennel club level specifications.

He is also the most cringe fail fucked up canine who ever lived. You see pugs that can't breathe because their faces are too squashed and their legs don't work but their supposed to look like that because some eugenicists thought it would be fun to pose new and exciting questions about ethics. Those fuckups are intentional.

Adak is a retriever. He was intended to be a duck dog. He is meant to sit quietly next to you while you shoot a duck and then go get it for you. That's the entire purpose of his breed. He came from a litter of pups that do this competitively, and his owner used to train dogs to elite levels of competition. He now no longer does this for reasons we will get into in a moment, but suffice to say this dog started with higher expectations. He's not a Labrador he's a Chesapeake, a breed known for their intelligence but somewhere along the line something went fucking wrong.

The dog cannot retrieve. He doesn't know how. Its not instinctual and he refuses to learn. We have tried. People can't teach him, dogs can't teach him. He won't fetch a stick, or a dog toy or a training bumper or anything else you throw for him.

The dog is gunshy. He panics at the sound of a shot. Sometimes he forgets he's gunshy and there's a solid thirty seconds between the shot and when he decides to lose his shit.

The dog cannot sit quietly. If he is not the center of attention he makes sounds I have not heard from any other organic creature. Is is a squeaky hinge, a far off engine, something stuck in the garbage disposal? No, it's the dog, steadily getting louder because no one has looked at him in the last 2 minutes.

So yeah, arguably the worst possible example of a retriever. He's pretty, he's friendly, he's a good dog and a wonderful pet, just never expect him to do anything useful. Currently his primary function is vacuuming up toddler meals from underneath a highchair so he's happy.

But there's another peculiarity about this damn dog.

He has an engine fetish. A fixation, an obsession, whatever you care to call it. This animal's one true goal in life is to meld his skull to an engine plate and crack off all of his teeth on a spinning flywheel. Yes, some of this is learned behavior because he knows that when an engine starts up his people are off to go do things, fun things, and if he makes himself annoying enough he'll get to go with us. But that only accounts for about a third of how fucking bonkers this dog gets around internal combustion.

Fire up a snowmachine? His head is between the skis and he's doing his best to get inside the cowling. He has chiped his teeth trying to chew on a moving dirt bike tire. He has been run over multiple times, by multiple different machines. There is nothing you can do to dissuade this dog from hauling ass after a four wheeler. His mania is limited to small engines because if he was this stupid around cars he would have been roadkill years ago.

He's been to vets, he's been to experts. He has a wonderful doggy life with plenty of stimulus and affection and exercise and socialization. There's just something wrong with him.

So this is the animal we brought to fish camp. He's having the time of his life because he's surrounded by strangers who would love to pet him and stinky fish smells. Our camp has plenty of people so someone always has his leash to walk him around and he doesn't need to stay in his kennel. There are lots of other families here and a good number of them have wheelers for hauling people and nets and fish up and down the beach, but as long as he has a firm hand on his collar he is at least smart enough not to chase strangers wheelers. He can behave. He just loses his damn mind when it's a machine he recognizes.

We have a four wheeler with us, Adak is insufferable and loudly announcing to the entire beach that he's being cruelly oppressed because he's not allowed to eat the engine, or make love to the engine, or have some long and tender yearning romance with the engine, I don't know what goes through that dogs head, all I know is that passersby are looking at me like I'm skining this animal alive because that's what it sounds like.

We also have a boat, a mid size inflatable with an outboard. Our group has six families and it does make sense to show up with everything but the kitchen sink. Harvest from the beach is perfectly fine but dipnetting from a boat is fun.

There is no way the dog is going on the boat. There are too many people, too many moving parts, some of those parts being live flailing fish, and the dog is not going on the boat. Everyone knows this, including the dog. Yes, he's got a thing about boats too.

So what happens is this.

I've got the dog leash. I've already been out on the boat and now I'm taking a break and getting a rest while someone else has a go. The four wheeler is at the head of the beach, after being used to launch the boat. I'm braced against the dog for when the wheeler starts up again and he inevitably lunges for it.

People are loading into the boat at the waterline. While the dog and I are up on the gravel of the beach, they are down in the indescribable glacial river mud, slick as soap and thick as cement.

My sister inlaw comes down the beach, phone for photo taking purposes in one hand, coffee cup in the other, toddler strapped to her chest. She hands me her coffee cup, to better situate her dozing baby.

I take a hand off the leash and accept the cup.

My beloved husband pull starts the engine.

On the boat.

In the water.

I am suddenly 15 feet further down the beach than I was, skidding through the mud, heels digging a trail behind me. It is worth mentioning at this point that I out weigh the dog by a slim margin of about 30lbs. I let go of the leash. I'm not going in that fucking river.

The dog is going in the river. At speed. He's gonna be the first dog to eat a running propeller. In a river.

(Some dogs are smart enough to be current savvy and not endanger themselves swimming in rough waters. Based on the information you know about this dog, what do you think the odds are that Adak is smart enough for that?)

Despite everything, this animal is a beloved family pet and we do not want to see him swept out to Hawaii or his face made into mincemeat. So now there are 2 adult men in chestwaders wrestling this suicidally stupid dog out of the water and away from the running engine. Oh wait, they were in the process of launching the boat into a stiff current. Now they have to pull the dog and the boat back up into the nightmarish morass of glacial mud, were I'm trying not to lose my boots in the calf deep mud so I can grab him again. Someone is shrieking to kill the engine, which is the most sensible course of action so off course no listens.

Thirty seconds ago my dad saw me telling Adak to stay out of the mud. He blinked and missed the initial drama so now he looks back down the beach to see me and my inlaws mudwrestling that same animal out of the water. He is a master of the "not my circus, not my monkeys" mentality, but he's thrilled to see the show. My sister inlaw came to take pictures and record the moment and she's doing just that, with glee and a sleeping baby.

I have the damn dog. I am back on solid footing. I am only mostly covered in mud. I have not dropped or spilled the coffee.

(Most amazing part of this story tbh,thrashed. The coffee never hit the ground, it was one of those nice insulated to-go cups but still)

The boat and it's fishermen are pulling away. I have given up on the leash and have the dog in an armbar around the belly with a fistful of scruff. He doesn't care. He wants so badly on that damn boat that he's fully committed his weight to his hind paws. If I let go of him right now he would biff it on the concrete pad of the boat launch before launching right back into the water. The four wheeler starts up. I do not outweigh the dog by alot but I now have lifted him bodily into the air with all feet off the ground while he squeals and thrashes.

The sound coming out of this animal is what I imagine a whale overdosing on cocaine would sound like. A weasel in a blender. A clowncar demolition derby. A millennia of tortured souls cursed to damnation possessing a kazoo played by a maniac elephant.

People are staring.

Theres a lot of profanity coming out of me. I feel it's pretty justified.

2 and a half minutes later, the boat is gone. The four wheeler is gone. Adak and his stupid doggy brain have calmed down and quit thrashing. He looks up at me with a completely empty skull and a the canine personification of 😄

I'm gonna skin him for mittens

#fish camp #storytelling #dog #Alaska

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theultimatemercenary69 · 1 year

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Sonic and Infinite are so fucking GRAUGHHHHHHHH I want. To study them in a lab. I don’t know how to convey the emotions I feel for this dog and hedgehog so please bare with me

Before I start my bs I just wanted to say this post actually goes out to @neurotypical-sonic and uh @beloved-user (and maybe a few other people but those were the only 2 that I saw had said anything at the time of writing this) because they wanted to see this content in the world so shoutout to them for giving me the courage to post about these cringe fail mobians (I am the sonic and infinite psychoanalysis anon btw)

there’s so much under the cut please be careful also please be nice it’s 2 am and I’m very emotionally fragile

The fact that sonic and infinite are 2 sides of the same coin yet also thematic foils to each other is just sending me over the deep end I can’t take it ARGHHHHHHH (I am willingly taking it)

You’re probably asking “what the actual fuck are you going on about dude” and to this I raise you all of this entire post (you’re gonna regret asking)

A few things before I start, this is obviously gonna be Forces bullshit because I Bear The Curse™️also I’m only gonna be talking about the English version of the game because sadly I have not been able to play or see the japanese dub yet, I’ll do that later though

Also if there’s photos with shit quality, sorry, that’s on me

Ok autism activated let’s go

Let’s start with our obvious main man Sonic, the blue blur. I’m gonna start with something that irked a lot of people, and that is the fact that Sonic seemingly came out fine after being tortured for 6 months.

The thing is, he was absolutely not fine, at all, it was just so subtle that it was genuinely hard to tell, but once you notice, you continue to notice. The first thing you can see is that he is acting a lot more brutal I guess I could say???

I mean, look at the end of the Zavok fight, he beats the ever loving shit out of Zavok with his hands, not a few homing attack or spin dashes, his fucking hands, I don’t know how often that happens outside of games where the actual gimmick is hand to hand combat, but it seems pretty weird to me how he just keeps hitting Zavok and he just stares at him as he falls, panting and out of breath from how relentlessly he was attacking him

Second, he’s constantly talking about how he wants and will get revenge for what happened, he doesn’t let up that he’s going to get revenge, and I was actually kind of shocked when he started saying that I was kinda like “woah calm down buddy” (note, one of these screenshots is from the wiki because I couldn’t get the image from the game, also, these 2 are just from the cutscenes I could find, there’s so much more, this hog can hold so much malice and rage)

Third? Now this one is my favorite to talk about, because it really shows just how drastic Sonic and Infinite really are, the scene it occurs in is during the infinite fight with sonic and the avatar character, during the first stage where it’s just sonic

You may say “ok what’s special about the reskinned metal sonic fight?” sarcastically but this is a very important fact to me, and the fact is that Sonic just straight up implies to Infinite’s face that he’s gonna murder him!

The line he says is played off as a kinda joke, but the way Sonic says it is so genuine that it’s a little bit disturbing, it’s a fridge horror kind of moment where you look at the line, maybe giggle, but after a quick google you realize just how fucked the line is because of the inclusion of one word, one single word.

The word being “Epitaph.” An Epitaph being the phrase or words written on someone’s tombstone in memory of them.

Now, you may know what line I’m referring to if you’re like me and reply that fight alot, but if you don’t know the line that’s fine, I’m gonna explain it either way because it’s very important to me!

So the fight starts and the first lines said are these;

Infinite: What would you like your epitaph to read? How about “Here lies the blue buffoon”?

Sonic: Why not “Here dozes the masked clown”? Might as well make it for the person who needs one, right?

I think you can see where I’m going with this point, let’s move on now to the other point I wanted to make, which is also kind of a major tone shift from the point above

This point ties in with the “2 sides of the same coin” bit, but the point I want to make is that Sonic needed companionship to win. (Take a drink of water every time I write the word “companionship” or anything similar starting now, see how hydrated you get)

He needed the avatar character to support him throughout that fight, he needed the avatar & classic to help him defeat the eggman and ruby as well, he needed companionship.

This theme of him needing support and a companion is echoed through the very song that is the theme of forces, I am, of course, referring to Fistbump

AGGHHHH I LOVE FISTBUMP SO MUCH IT’S SO GOOD THEMATICALLY AND IT’S ALSO JUST A GOOD SONGi want you to know I’m snarling and biting and growling like a rabid animal but in a good way I’m sorry I just needed to say that real quick back to the point I was trying to make

Now, the first indication that Sonic needs companionship is that Fistbump is literally him “speaking” to the avatar character, the lyrics portray this perfectly, but I am going to stop myself before I go on a tangent about this song for too long, so next um dot point

The second indication he needs companionship using Fistbump is that it plays whenever he double boosts with the Avatar and during the level Null Space, the double boost is self explanatory, it’s them working together, they’re being friendly friends!

What people may not completely get is me bringing up Null Space, because, once again, there’s seemingly nothing special but there is. There is to me. In my heart. I love Null Space as well as the other stuff mentioned here because it ties into this insane bs I’m concocting for my viewing pleasure that just so happens to get to be on tumblr too!!

Null Space is a level where Infinite sends Sonic and, accidentally, the Avatar character to the level’s namesake, Null Space. Null Space is devoid of substance or life, it is the loneliest place you could ever be, but here Sonic and the Avatar are, the complete antithesis of such a concept, they are together, they are safe with each other, they are going to get out of there together.

And so they escape, and what is playing in the background as they do so? A version of Fistbump dedicated specifically to that level.

Before I can make the rest of my points, we have to talk about the elephant, er… jackal, in the room; Infinite.

Let’s start with a general thingy like we did with sonic, now, I’m not gonna go over his actions in game, they speak for themselves, I will, however, be talking about the implications of his actions; his morals, his values, all of that

First off let’s collectively discuss and by discuss I mean go ‘what the actual fuck is wrong with this dude’

It’s very clear that he’s just not a “good” person, he does morally frowned upon things like being a mercenary, of course, that’s one of the big ones, but the one that really fucks with me and makes me really wanna pick his brain is that despite Shadow being the one who hurt him, he immediately clicks to Sonic and the best way I can describe it is him going “i NEED to beat the ever loving shit out of that kid right now.”

Like, even during Episode Shadow, he still mentions Sonic with this personal malice that you don’t expect, stating that Sonic won’t be able to stop him, and it’s honestly just kind of weird tbh???

So he hates Sonic from the start, he gangs up on him, beats him to the point of unconsciousness, kidnaps him, is indirectly (at least) the cause of 6 months of torture, beats him again, tells him he’s not even worth killing, tries to kill him and the entire resistance by throwing the sun at them and then tries to kill him personally before Sonic can finally get the revenge he wanted.

So I’m sensing a lot of initially one-sided hostility between him and Sonic.

Another point is that his theme seems to be directed towards Sonic, it is mocking him, trying to tear down everything he establishes in Fistbump, stating that friendship will get you nowhere when you rely on it too much, asking who is going to save Sonic from Infinite when he is alone?

This is once again shown with how he interacts with Sonic, using Silver and Infinite’s little tussle as a comparison, yeah, Infinite throws an insult, but it’s as a collective, he says he’s happy to crush a hero to keep the “rabble” (the resistance) in line, but when Sonic appears it becomes very personal

He’s immediately on him, stating that Sonic is “back from the dead”, calling him the “little blue savior” and insisting he can smell Sonic’s fear, glad he’s left an impression, noting that Sonic is “still thrashing around”, in his own words.

He speaks to Sonic so personally, hell, he waits for Sonic to quit talking before tossing Sonic to another part of the jungle to fight him alone. He very well could have gotten rid of Silver and then dealt with Sonic, but he instead decides dealing with Sonic immediately is more important than Silver is. He even says that he will meet Sonic again after that fight.

he also threatens to smash Sonic into blue jelly. I just wanted to mention that because it’s funny that he specifically said he would smash him into BLUE JELLY

So it makes me wonder, what is this dude's issue??? Why is he so obsessed with Sonic? And then it kind of hit me. Sonic is the antithesis of everything he values and believes in, of course he’d be intrigued.

Or, alternatively, he’s intrigued because Sonic is just like him.

Yep, It’s the moment we’ve (me) all been waiting for! We’re finally discussing the “two sides of the same coin” point!

Sonic and Infinite are exact opposites but they are also the exact same! They both so desperately need support and companionship (I’ve covered Sonic’s need, but we can see how Infinite needs support and companionship with how he handles the loss of his squad), they both have the same kind of goal (change the world to be a place they would want to live in, good or bad), they’re both associated with the same people (Shadow and Robotnik)!

They are the exact same but they are exact opposites! They are each other’s foils but they complement each other so well, they are two sides of the same tarnished, damaged coin!

I LOVE SONIC FORCES SO MUCH WHY AM I LIKE THIS

Sonic and Infinite are what they could have been based on how they responded to their own struggles. Infinite could have very well been just like Sonic, dedicated to helping people because of what happened at Mystic Jungle, and Sonic could have very well been just like Infinite, lashing out and hurting everyone in his way because of any of the copious losses he’s been forced to deal with.

But they don’t, they become the person they are because of how they respond to their own struggles, trauma, losses and wins. And that’s the beauty of their characters.

Sonic and Infinite are foils to each other, it’s a point you can’t argue, but the reason they are foils to each other is because they are the same in some weird, messed up way.

But I wanted to add one more thing before I finish this off.

Infinite very well left an Impression on Sonic. Like it or not, somehow, someway, Infinite’s concepts and ideals imprinted on Sonic and it made him and his own problems worse. So much worse.

I won’t go into too much about that because that links to other things outside of solely Forces, so yeah, tangent done. Thank you for listening

#infinite the jackal #sonic forces #sonic the hedgehog #sth #sonic #infinite #long post #what else should I tag #Sorry if you didn’t want to be @‘d I just love shouting out people because they are cool #*slaps roof of jackal and hedgehog* these bad boys can hold so much trauma and also rage apparently #*also slaps roof of shadow. Idk why I just felt like I should considering we’re talking about forces*

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kl4us4 · 1 year

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BEGIN AGAIN (Eddie Munson x Reader)

Request: i was wondering if you could write this idea i’ve been thinking of: what if eddie hasn’t died and eventually got his name cleaned, and now reader has to help him readapt into the old world they knew, like finishing school and dealing with bullying & hate from people who still think he did all of those things? (@rockmunson)

masterlist / requests open

Eddie is frowning deeply, staring at the paper in front of him. You admire the faint lines between his eyebrows, watching fondly. He’s so cute. And he’s here. The struggle of the Upside Down was long ago now, and sometimes you find yourself staring at Eddie, an energy of light flurrying in your chest. He twiddles the pen in his hand, and the plastic sheen of it rattles against his metal rings. Underneath the table, he taps his foot in annoyance.

“I don’t get why I should re-write this,” he reiterates, brown eyes scanning over his work, “it’s- not to be, like, immodest, but it's fuckin’ good.” A smile stretches across your face as you gaze at him. He tugs on his bottom lip, looking up when you don’t answer. Your expression softens his scowl and he lets out a laugh, “It is!”

“I know,” you respond lightly, shrugging as you lean against the table, “I read it. Twice.”

“And?”

You grin at his hopeful expression, “It’s fuckin’ good.”

“See? Thank you!” He exclaims, a little too loudly for the town library, as he grabs the loose leaf papers in one hand, “She wants me to fail. First, she makes me take her stupid summer class, now she’s just itching - I mean, itching to give me an F.”

“Yeah, well,” you rest your head against your palm to look at him, “it’s better than another senior year.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he hums, tapping his pen against the table for a moment. He looks up at you and you sit up straighter at his expression, “Hey, Y/N…”

“What?” You narrow your eyes for a moment.

Eddie leans back on his chair with a teasing smile, “I don’t appreciate that tone. C’mon, have a little spirit - my deathly binding to Hawkins High is nearly over. And…” He leans his elbows against the table, his puppy-dog eyes wide and endearing, “We can do whatever we want.”

“Whatever we want, huh?” You tilt your head. He nods. “What do you wanna do?”

Eddie sucks in a breath before letting out a deep hum, smiling fondly all the while, “Whatever you wanna do. Anything. Just... start again.”

“Yeah?” You raise your eyebrows, “What if I wanna stay in Hawkins forever?”

He cringes but wordlessly builds to a shrug, “Hm- well, uh, then we’ll stay… here-” Your laugh cuts him off and he stares at you, “Okay, but really, sweetheart.”

You bite your bottom lip, smile fading contently, “I don’t care. I wanna go wherever you’re going.”

“Like my little groupie,” he whispers lowly, inching towards you.

“Yeah,” you answer with a scoff, “just yours though - you’re only one.”

“Oh, my only one. Only mine,” he nods in agreement, swallowing dryly as he stares at you, “and I’m only yours, too.”

A tender smile makes its way to your face, “Just you and me then.”

“Yeah,” Eddie answers, “like it’s meant to be.”

“Excuse me?”

The voice catches you both off guard and you snap away from Eddie, staring up at the librarian. Eddie just glances over at her, his face a mixture of confusion and unease.

“Yeah?” He wonders after a moment of silence.

She pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose, arms crossed over her floral blouse, “You two are being far too loud. I’m going to have to ask you both to leave the library, please.”

“Oh- what?” Eddie scowls, tilting his head to one side. Your mouth falls open for a moment before you look down, a pang of hurt and anger in your chest.

“I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” she repeats herself, “you’re disrupting the people here.”

“We’re not being loud at all,” Eddie responds, looking around the room, “there’s barely anyone near us - who- wh- did someone complain?”

“Uh- it’s… it’s fine,” you mumble, shoving the book into your bag quickly, “we’ll go.”

“What?” Eddie looks at you, his face a picture of betrayal and his voice soft.

“It’s okay,” you shrug.

“No, we… I didn’t do anything. She didn’t do anything.” Eddie frowns. He can feel his heart pounding inside his chest.

“People don’t want you here, Munson,” the librarian finally pushes the words that have been sitting in her mouth, waiting to burst free, “you’re turning people away.”

You look up at her, a subtle glare on your face as you pause. Eddie takes another look around. He sees it this time, sees the side-eyed glances, the way two people snap away from one another and cease their whispering. He rips his essay from the table, the shrill noise of it in the silent study space makes your teeth grit. Shoving it into his bag with rapid speed, Eddie rushes towards the door before you can even push your chair out.

You look up at the librarian as you pack your things, “You know... He’s not who you think he is. You have no idea what you’re talking about,” you admit to the woman as you stand, the feet of your chair scrapping against the linoleum floor, “you and all these people.”

With that, you scurry towards the open doors. It’s bright outside, the setting sun angled right towards the library doors. When you look around, Eddie’s gliding down the steps, head down as a few people watch him. You catch up to him as he rears the corner to where his van is parked. “Eddie!” You tug on his shoulder, breathless from running after him, “Eddie, c’mon-”

“You don’t want to live here,” he whips around towards you, eyes closed, chest heaving, “you don’t really want to live here… do you?”

“Eddie-”

“‘Cause if you do,” he swallows roughly, hand gripping the strap of his bag, “if you do - just-just tell me. And I’ll walk away now, make your life a whole lot easier. You won’t have to see me again and… and I’ll never come back here. Because I’m… I’m never gonna come back here, Y/N. Ever. So just,” he sucks in a breath, shaking his head for a moment before plastering a small smile on his face, “Just tell me I’m too much. I’ll go.”

A frown makes its way to your face and you stare up at his cracking smile. Pressing a cold hand to his cheek, Eddie exhales deeply and you run your thumb along his cheekbone.

“That wouldn’t make anything easier,” you admit to him.

“You’d be allowed in a library,” Eddie huffs out a sad laugh and opens his eyes to stare at the ground, “you could walk down the street, not get any mean looks. No one would… You’d just be free from it all.”

“No one would what?” You press.

“Hate you,” he peers up into your eyes, pausing for a second, “like, really hate you. You wouldn’t have to worry about that anymore.”

“I want you,” you whisper to him, inching forward but he takes a step away and you drop your hand, “Eddie?”

“I don’t want to make your life hell.”

Your reply is quick, and you feel your throat hoarse and your eyes begin to burn, “You don’t. Eddie, you don’t. At all."

"Don't lie to me."

"I'm not," you answer more sternly, "my life’s better ‘cause you’re in it. I know who you are - and being loved by you? That’s…” you shake your head as you let out a shaky sigh, “that’s worth everything to me. Please, don’t… don’t let me go. Please.”

“No,” he whispers, chest aching at your tears, “I don’t think I can.” A frown tugs itself onto Eddie’s face and, suddenly, he’s wrapping his arms around your shoulders. Eddie holds you as though he’s anticipating your disappearance, head buried into your neck, arms squeezing tightly.

“I love you,” you remind him quietly, hands rubbing up and down his back.

"I love you," he says back.

“I’m sorry.”

"No," Eddie lets out a hum, pulling back gently, “I should be saying sorry. Maybe I was really loud in there, I-I dunno.”

You want to tell him what he already knows - that he wasn’t loud, not at all - but, instead, you just smile and shrug, “I don’t know. I didn’t notice.”

Eddie laughs gently, pressing a smile to his lips. His hands squeeze your waist and he looks down at your lips, “I don’t deserve you.”

“Yeah, you do.”

“Nah,” Eddie grins, shaking his head, “you’re so out of my league.”

“Shut up,” you cringe at him, wrapping your arms around his neck, “you’re the person I’m meant to be with.”

Eddie feels his heart melt. Melt. Like, turn into actual putty inside his chest. And he leans down towards you, eyes closing before he presses his lips to yours. Your lips move against one another slowly, sweetly, and he lifts a hand from your waist to cup your cheek. He pulls back gently, a soft smile on his face as he licks his bottom lip a little, "You're perfect."

"You're perfect," you throw back at him.

"I love you."

Eddie rolls his eyes but grins at your antics, "I think I'm gonna marry you one day."

"I-" Your eyebrows raise and you're suddenly at a loss for words. It's not like it never crossed your mind; to get married, one day. But it was never something you planned for. You never imagined your wedding.

Eddie laughs at your fond expression, "Suddenly nothing to say, baby?"

You let out a quiet, giddy giggle, lips parted for a moment, "I... I think I'm gonna marry you one day."

Eddie bites the inside of his cheek, nodding gently, "I'd be a pretty good husband to you. Build a library in our home - you know, just in case."

You tilt your head, "Yeah? Could you build a pool too?"

"Hmm," Eddie chuckles, "I'd definitely try. And I'd cook dinner every night. Get you anything you want, too. Tell you every day how hot you look with a ring on your hand. I'd do anything for you to be happy."

You bite your bottom lip, leaning in, "Eddie."

"Baby."

You press your forehead against his, "I'm so in love with you."

He leans forward and kisses you once, his thumb brushing your cheek, "I'm so in love with you."

#eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson au #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader au #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fluff

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creepling · 1 year

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NO MORE MR NIETZCHE - CHAPTER TWO

. . . the fic series

summary: dwayne can't get the fluffy moment with reader out of his mind, so he asks uncle frank for advice.

pairing: dwayne hoover x gn!reader

word count: 1.4K

cw: self-depricating ment of suicide, frank being a cringey supportive uncle

Dwayne knew not to dwindle on the simple things.

He was currently starting his summer homework, leaving it very last minute. School starts back in a week, and Dwayne pondered what the next few months will have in store—junior year, having to take his grades seriously. He’ll be turning sixteen halfway through the first semester. Then, there was homecoming. The goddamn homecoming.

It is accurate to say that Dwayne was not the most spirited student. He hated the celebrations, the pressure of finding a date for the abundance of pointless dances. In fact, throughout his time in high school, Dwayne had not attended one dance.

He was overthinking the simple things. The feeling of your hand lingered from yesterday; he could still feel your warmth in his palms. Your smile circulated in his mind. Your presence remained in his orbit. It embarrassed him. You were constantly on his mind since you reunited after the road trip. The image of you was different. If Dwayne could admit to such passion, he would confess that the thought of you made him smile. Butterflies in his stomach. All the romantic emotions made him cringe.

On occasion, you attended the high school dances, tending to go with classmates with whom you were close. You weren’t particularly friends with them. You just went because Dwayne would instead be caught dead than go to a dance. Dwayne remembers the time you showed up at his window after a dance. He let you in after being awakened by the faint knocks on the glass panel, taking your hand and letting you stumble onto his bed. Your casual-formal attire ruffled from the night’s antics. A fluster on your cheeks from the fresh air and dancing. Your worn-out sneakers contrasted with your clothing. The stupidest grin on your face when you narrated what happened at the dance, how you wished he was there, that he should give it a chance just once before they graduate. And Dwayne sat there quiet, dazed from his slumber, the only thing on his mind being that you look even more attractive in clothes you don’t wear daily. It was the first time he was conscious of his feelings for you – and his first attempt to hide them.

He abruptly closed his textbook and retreated from his desk, pacing the room. The sudden change in mindset was driving Dwayne into confusion, he thought about you a lot, but now the thoughts were . . . passionate. The difference was not something Dwayne could adjust to immediately, causing him to react abruptly. He ran a hand through his hair, letting out a stressed sigh. The noticeable stress in his body language caused Frank, lying on the bed cot, and reading one of Dwayne’s books, to lift his gaze and observe the troubled teen.

“Stressed out?” Frank muttered, dog-tagging his page and closing the book.

Since Dwayne began to talk again, most conversations were with his uncle Frank. He was still advised not to be left alone by his doctor. Dwayne grew used to his company and even found him amusing to talk to. He was intellectual and shared a lot of his wisdom with him. Their conversations never failed to enlighten him.

“Okay, I know you said I should favour my high school days and let the misery shape me into a better person. But God, I don’t want to go back. I can’t stand it,” Dwayne confessed.

Frank looked at him contently. He had a feeling he would have to continue this conversation. He sat on the bed cot, resting his elbows on his knees, ready to listen to Dwayne.

“Is it the educational side of school you’re worried about – or the social side?” Frank refined.

Dwayne took a while to answer as he got himself comfortable on his bed, tucking his legs up to his chest. “It’s the social side, mostly.”

Frank clasped his hands together and let out a sigh. “Ah yes – The first day back. Being thrust into the deep end, homework, bullies, and then the dreadful homecoming. I hated it too.”

Frank was not the best at advice, so he thought he was. A forty-odd man had to rake through his brain to remember the pains of high school. He could say, having trouble talking to your crush? Try being a gay kid in the eighties. At least you’re the smartest kid in English class. You can bury your mind in poetry and let your emotions consume you. Then you’ll hit your mid-age and try to take your own life. Welcome to the real world, kiddo!

As Dwayne sat in silence, it gave Frank a moment to realise something. He remembered the first time he saw his nephew since he was a kid, when he was still voluntarily mute, admitting that he had no friends.

I Hate Everyone, the note read.

Yet, just yesterday, a supposed friend was in the house. As Olive dragged them to Dwayne’s room, Sheryl smiled and assured, “They’ve been friends with Dwayne since we moved here. Such a great kid.”

“What about your friend?” Frank came back from his thoughts.

Dwayne frowned, “What about them?”

“Well, I couldn’t help but remember saying you had no friends,” Frank responded.

Dwayne scoffed, “They’re my only friend.”

“Still better than none,” Frank shrugged, “They must make school a little more bearable?”

Dwayne nodded. You did make things bearable. When he met you on his front lawn, a small boy playing with his toy jets saw you approach confidently, already offering him to play with your toys. To the present, leaving him notes in his locker, eating lunch on the bleachers, and bike-riding through the suburbs.

“One day, I will live in one of these houses and live the alcoholic, soccer mum lifestyle I have always dreamed of.” That was what you would say during the bike rides. Your sarcasm amused him, even if your statement had a tint of fearful anticipation as if that was how you saw your life play out. If you stayed in each other’s lives, both of you figured you wouldn’t end up like your parents. You could live the life you dreamed of. Now that his test pilot dreams were behind him, a life spent with you felt possible. What will that consist of? Platonically like it has always been. Romantically . . . Dwayne’s new-found attraction to you could make or break the outcome.

“You think I should go to the Homecoming dance?” Dwayne asked Frank, breaking the thoughtful silence. His out-of-the-blew question took him back, causing his eyes to divert to his CD rack.

Frank frowned but pondered on the question. He asked it as if he had not gone before, which was not surprising. Frank could not remember if he attended his homecoming dances. The safe answer would be a firm no.

“Do you want to go to the Homecoming dance?” Frank asked, expecting some form of elaboration.

Dwayne shrugged again, struggling with a response. “Only if I go with a . . . certain person.”

Frank could not help but smile. Witnessing someone experience an emotion for the first time is an amusing sight. Especially when your nephew says he has a crush on someone, Dwayne did not say it explicitly, but Frank could read his body language like a book.

“Who’s the lucky person?” Frank asked, trying to contain his smile from turning into a grin.

Dwayne was suddenly flustered. He looked away as if he was done with the conversation, but Frank continued.

“C’mon, I’m not teasing! You’re lucky you’re telling me this. Imagine if you told your mom or Richard. That would be even more embarrassing.”

Dwayne knew there was truth to Frank’s words, as all his words are. Still, the blush on his face grew rampant, and he bit the inside of his cheek to contain it. Frank saw it immediately.

“I bet it’s your friend, right? I don’t blame you. They seem cool,” Frank said, the word cool feeling foreign to his middle-aged demeanour. Dwayne’s non-vocal but flustered response made Frank clear that he was right.

“Look, it’s not the end of the world if you ask them. Remember what you said to me on the pier? Do what you love, and fuck the rest. If asking your friend to homecoming is something you’ll love, you must do it. Simple as that.”

It was at that moment that Dwayne nodded his head. He looked to Frank, hearing the echo of his newfound philosophy, and agreed. As a surge of confidence came through him, he released a nervous sigh. Dwayne knew that it would be the most significant risk he would ever take if he asked you to homecoming. And he was ready to take it.

#dwayne hoover #little miss sunshine #dwayne hoover x reader #dwayne hoover x you #paul dano #danonation #dwayne hoover fluff

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wildernessuntothemselves · 2 years

Text

You Are My Queen Now | Part 2

Word Count: 4.6k

Genre: Smut, angst

Summary: Growing up as a child of a minor lord, you had it instilled in you since a young age that you needed to find yourself a rich and affluent husband that would not only provide a comfortable life for you, but would also help further your family’s position in the court. So it was of the utmost importance that you remain a virgin in order to land such a coveted husband.

The problem lies when the man you secretly love, Prince Beomgyu, suddenly and unabashedly propositions you.

Warnings: This a Yandere!beomgyu fic and will contain future noncon so if that is not something you’re comfortable with please avoid reading altogether. This particular chapter includes: handjobs, inexperienced oc, corruption, thigh fucking, pushy beomgyu, switchy dynamics but mostly dom!gyu.

Honestly Beomgyu’s theme song for this series

This really isn’t good for your heart–being tipsy and hiding away in your very own secluded section of the gardens with Beomgyu under the starlight that pales in comparison to the light in his own doe eyes. Yes, it’s your tradition that has become sacred over the years, but it’s here exactly where the trouble first started, and now that you’ve developed this physical relationship with Beomgyu, he’d become very bold in his touches, wrapping his arm around your waist or stealing a kiss when you least expect it, something your poor love-riddled heart can’t handle much of.

And now here he is again, tugging on your hand and demanding cutely that you come closer. “Why are you sitting all the way over there, baby? I’m cold. Come warm me up.”

Anyone else saying these words to you would make you cringe, but coming from his pouty lips, flavored with his unique brand of adorable mischievousness, they only make your heart flutter.

“Because I know what you want.” You try to protest. You know as soon as you’re close enough, he’ll be on you. He’s been insatiable since this whole agreement started. You’d think that helping him get off would take some of the edge off and make him calm down but it seems to only spur him on more.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He bites his lower lip in a failed attempt to keep from smiling as he pulls you flush against his body.

God, he’s ten times more beautiful from this close up. And the way he looks down his nose at you with that cheeky smile on his face makes you want to combust. So it’s no wonder that you only put up a minimal fight, just for appearances really, when he leans down to kiss you.

Hungry. That’s a word you’d come to associate with him. Nothing is ever enough for him. One kiss would never do. He comes back in for another. And another. And another until you’re on your back with him hovering over you and you’re both breathless and dizzy from more than just the wine.

In moments like this, you can almost fool yourself into thinking you’re lovers. Isn’t this what lovers do? Steal kisses under the moonlight?

But you’re not lovers. Because what lover would say what Beomgyu says to you next.

"I want you to touch my dick this time. I can’t keep humping you like a dog in heat.”

His words make you stiffen, all the giddiness fleeing from your body at once.

It’s not just him ruining the moment that upsets you, but it’s the way he’s become so pushy with you. Gone are the cautious appeals and desperate pleas. Now he just demands what he wants like you owe it to him.

"What makes you think I have to do that?" You scoff.

"I'm paying for it, aren't I?"

There it is. The root of his entitlement. You suppose you brought this on yourself when you introduced money into it.

Still it hurts your pride.

"I'm not a whore, Beomgyu. I'm only doing this to help you out but I can stop."

Lies. You’re doing this for you too.

Ever since you started this, you’ve accumulated more things now than you've ever had before. Not just dresses but jewelry and all manner of fine things. You finally feel like you fit in with the other ladies. Even if they look at you strangely, no doubt wondering how you came across this sudden wealth. They never outright asked you but you still felt the need to mention in passing how your father’s business has been booming lately. You don’t know if they buy it or not but even with their suspicions, you still fit in a lot more than you did before.

And the other big thing you’re getting out of this is Beomgyu himself. Yes, he’s brash and demanding but he’s not the only one enjoying these debauched moments. Yes, the context makes you feel dirty, but at the end of the day you’re still getting the attention of the man you love. And what attention it is. Beomgyu is positively obsessed with you during these moments. Seeing him so lost in the little pleasure you provide him feels even better than all these riches.

"I know you're not a whore." He breathes against your skin, kissing along your jaw, and you almost relax. But then he continues, “That’s why I chose you.”

He’d have less luck hurting you this much if he was trying.

This is your only value to him, that you're not a whore. It’s not that he’s attracted to you personally. No, you're just the only lady who would let him do these things to her.

"Now can you touch me, already? I feel like I'm going to burst."

You want to cry, but you refuse to do it in front of him. Not just because you don’t want to look vulnerable, but because he’s still your best friend and he’s bound to ask why you’re crying, and you don’t trust yourself not to confess everything to him.

So you grit your teeth and go through with it.

The problem is, you don’t really know what to do. All these times before it was easy to project confidence and control since you made him do all the work, but now you're lost.

But you can’t dwell on it too long or you’ll give yourself away. Steeling yourself, you just go ahead and touch him, your right hand trailing down his body to cup the bugle in his pants.

He sighs, resting his head against your shoulder, and you take that as a good sign to continue. You’ve never done this before but you’ve swiped one book from the library that talks about the ways of pleasuring a man or a woman and you’ve heard little remarks here and there from the maids enough to get a rough idea about it.

As you move your hand up and down his confined length, you remember something you’ve read about the nipples being an erogenous zone for some people. So you move your free hand underneath his shirt and you fumble up until you reach one of his nipples and brush your fingers over it.

He gasps against your skin and you immediately stop, thinking you’ve done something wrong.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No, no.” He moans, grabbing your hand and putting it back on his crotch, pushing the heel of your hand down as he grinds into it. “Just didn’t expect you to touch my nipples, that's all.” He laughs, “And didn’t know I was sensitive there.”

“Is that good or bad? Should I stop?” You know you're letting on how clueless you are, but you don't want to hurt him.

“No, keep going.” He groans, sucking a kiss onto your neck that makes you shiver.

“Okay.” You say shakily, your hand going back to his nipple again to rub the little nub, making him groan and grind against your hand.

“Ah, baby. I need more.”

"What do you mean?"

"Put your hand down my pants."

"Oh, okay." You hesitate, feeling like you’ve barely got the hang of this and now you’re thrust back into unfamiliar territory.

Once again, you just gather your courage and do it, squeezing your hand under his waistband and grabbing his bare dick. You suck in a sharp breath at the feeling, but it’s drowned out by the moan he lets out.

“Fuck, baby, that’s it.” He hisses, continuing to move against your hand, now without the barrier of clothes. It’s a tight fit so you can’t do anything except rub awkwardly over his dick but he seems to like it anyway if the moans he’s letting out are any indication.

"It’s so warm and soft." You marvel at the heat of his member in your hand. You’ve always heard it described as hard, and it is, but you’re surprised by how soft the skin is. “And… wet.”

“That’s what you do to me. You like it, baby?” He hums, pulling back to stare at you. “Wanna see it?”

You do. You know you won't ever get to make love to him, but at least you'll get to imagine it better.

“Yeah.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice, sitting back and unbuttoning his pants, making a show of it as he pulls his dick out and strokes it languidly.

It’s too much for you, the way he touches himself while staring you dead in the eyes, and you end up looking away from the salacious sight.

"No, no." Beomgyu tuts scoldingly, grabbing your face and turning it back towards him. "You have to look at it. You have to see what you’re doing to me.”

You take a moment to steady your breathing before you look down at it again.

It’s bigger than you thought, and it’s red, explaining the heat you felt before. Looking at it, you understand why Beomgyu is so horny all the time.

“Is it supposed to be this big?”

He groans. “If you don’t want to get fucked, don’t say things like that.”

You pause. You hadn’t meant it like that, but he seems to like it.

"Don’t just stare at it. You're driving me crazy here." He whines, his husky voice doing things to you.

“I-I don't know what to do." You admit finally, “I’ve never touched a man like this before.”

“Oh, baby, you’re so cute." He leans down to kiss you deeply. "What are you going to do when I tell you I want you to put it in your mouth?"

You gasp, scandalized. “Beomgyu! I’m a lady!”

“I know, baby. A lady who would look good with her lips wrapped around my cock.” He says, running his thumb over your lips as he stares at them, no doubt imagining that exact scenario.

You falter. Is that something you’d be willing to do for him? It’s disgraceful, but you find yourself gulping at the thought of getting to feel the weight of his hot member on your tongue, to taste the wetness that’s seeping out of it in need.

These lustful thoughts fill your mind and you unconsciously poke your tongue out to wet your lips, but end up licking against his thumb in the process. His lips part in a heated exhale and he pushes your tongue down with his thumb, trapping it.

A heated silence follows and you struggle not to squeeze your thighs together to relieve some of the need that’s burning you up.

Thankfully, Beomgyu snaps out of it, sparing you the disgrace of your own thoughts.

“But that’s for another day.” He murmurs, pulling away from you as he sits back on his haunches, finally giving you the space to breathe in something that isn’t him, helping your mind clear up a bit.

“Come on, I'll teach you how to jerk me off.” He says, grabbing your hand and directing it to his cock. “Just wrap your hand around it, okay?"

“Okay.” With cheeks burning, you take his dick in your hand.

“Good.” He grunts, bucking into your loose fist. "Now move your hand up and down."

You press your lips together in determination and follow his direction.

“Tighter.” He groans, falling back over you and resuming his kisses along your neck.

You tighten your grip around him slightly, not wanting to hurt him, but he doesn’t like that.

“Tighter.” He repeats and you hold him even tighter until it seems to his liking.

“Good girl.” He murmurs wetly against your skin, making your pussy leak even more arousal. “Faster now.”

You follow his demands, pumping his dick faster, the movement causing an embarrassingly lewd noise.

“Yeah, just like that.”

“You like it?” You ask, needing to hear from him how much you’re affecting him.

“Yeah, you’re perfect.” He answers, and everything–his hoarse voice, his moans, the open mouthed kisses he lathers upon your skin–make you feverish. You wish to be touched too, but you can’t ask that of him. You can’t give him more than he’s already taking.

Your thoughts must’ve distracted you, causing you to neglect him, which Beomgyu doesn’t appreciate.

“Why did you slow down? Keep going.” He complains, biting down hard on your shoulder.

There it is again, the entitlement. It annoys you more than it probably should but you can’t help it when you’re trying so hard to get him off when you yourself are uncomfortably wet and neglected.

“My hand is tired.” You shoot back brattily, “I’ve given you what you wanted. If you want to cum then just fuck my hand like the horny dog you are.”

You still your hand, holding it in a tight grip around his swollen length as you stare each other down. You feel your heartbeat pick up even more speed than it did before. He really doesn’t like your attitude, and you get antsy at his lack of response.

When he still doesn’t move, you start removing your hand. “Well, if you don’t want to–”

He growls, moving his hand over yours and tightening it around his length as he starts thrusting into it. "Such a spoiled princess. I give you all these things and you won't even be good for me."

You falter, the new nickname prickling at you. "I'm not a princess." You say bitterly.

"You're my princess." He doubles down, making you feel like a joke. What kind of princess would let a man that’s not her husband treat her like a toy for his sexual gratification? You're closer to his whore than his princess.

"Shut up. Someone could hear you.” You sniff in disdain, deflecting

"I don’t care. Let them see what a brat my princess is being."

Each time he calls you that, you feel more and more humiliated so you do the only thing you can think of to shut him up–you put your hand over his lips.

But this is Beomgyu you’re dealing with, and you can count on him to always find a way to come out on top, and this is no different. He uses this chance to slip your fingers into his mouth, sucking on them obscenely.

"You're such a pervert!" You screech, ripping your hand away, feigning disgust when in reality, the feeling of his hot mouth around your fingers and his tongue prodding at them shoots straight to your pussy, making you wonder what it would feel like if he were to eat you out.

It’s disgusting. No proper lady should ever wonder such things, and it’s all his damn fault.

With renewed zealousness, you go back to pumping his cock, going faster than you did before while simultaneously rubbing his nipple, the wetness making it all the more sensitive and, before long, he gets close.

"I'm gonna cum.” He mewls, mouth parted as his moans never cease. “Gonna spill over your hand."

That’s what you were waiting for, your chance to retaliate, and you suddenly stop.

"Why?" He heaves, looking at you wildly.

"Where are your manners?” You ask haughtily, “Didn’t I teach you to ask nicely for what you want."

"Don't play with me, princess." He growls, his tone brokering no argument but you stupidly don’t back down.

"Don't call me that." You hiss, "Ask nicely, puppy."

That seems to be the wrong decision on your part, for he pulls back and grabs your legs, placing them over his shoulder, making your dress ride up to your waist and his dick come to rest over your underwear.

"Wanna see me act like a dog?” He spits on his hand and gives his dick a couple of strokes. “Then don’t be surprised when I treat you like a bitch."

“What are you–” You’re cut off when he pushes your thighs together around his cock and snaps his hips forward, fucking your plush flesh.

“Oh.” You squeak, the position causing his dick to drag over your pussy every time he ruts his hips forward. And soon, you’re too overstimulated to say anything. This is the first time you’ve gotten so much direct touch before and you don’t know how to handle it.

Unfortunately, Beomgyu notices it too.

“Finally gonna behave?” He mocks, smacking the outside of your thigh, no doubt seeing how dazed you are as your body jostles with each of his thrusts, your tits jiggling obscenely and the doughy flesh of your thighs engulfing his dick. You can’t even help the little gasps and moans that are forced out of you by his rough thrusts.

“God, look at you. You look like you’re being fucked for real.” He drawls, his eyes eating you up. “And you sound like it too.”

You immediately bite down on your lip to silence your moans, but they still burst out of you every time his hips slam against yours, and they excite Beomgyu to no end.

“Gonna cum for you, baby. Can I please cum?” He asks sarcastically.

You wish you could say no. The way his hips are slapping against your ass and his cock drags over your pussy have you so close to the end yourself, but you can’t expose yourself to him and you can’t tell him to stop without explaining as he’d think you’re messing with him again.

“Yes, cum for me, Beomgyu.” You whisper as seductively as possible, and he finally breaks eye contact as his hips stutter and he looks down to where his cum lands on your stomach. It feels warm and entirely based. And for a moment you get an out of body experience and you look down at yourself, splayed over the garden floor with the prince’s cum soiling you.

It’s not right. What you’re doing is not right.

But you can’t dwell on it for too long because you’re suddenly forced back into your body when his thumb brushes over your clit. "Look how wet you are. You like playing with me, baby? Making me go crazy just for a little touch?"

Your legs shake around his head. You’re so fucking close, all it would take are a few more strokes and you’d be creaming your underwear.

"Beomgyu, stop." You mewl before that can happen. He's been trying to touch you even since that first time, never once getting discouraged by your constant rejection.

You use your legs that are over his shoulder to try to push his torso away but that only brings his head down to your lap as he resists you, and now he’s face to face with your pussy.

"At least let me taste you." He says, before he flattens his tongue along your clothed pussy, making you yelp and squirm until you manage to scramble away from him.

"Stop it!" You pull your dress down, covering yourself.

"Why are you being so stubborn?” He grabs at your ankle, “I know you want me."

“I don’t!” You lie through your teeth. “Let me go or I’ll stop this whole thing.” You threaten, watching him clench his jaw, clearly displeased with the fight you’re putting up. But he lets you go and you stand up, straightening your dress–or straightening it as well as you can after the events of the night–and demanding he take you back to your room.

_______________

You’re such an idiot–-you think as you rush through the halls of the palace, running late to breakfast because you spent way too much time last night touching yourself to the thought of Beomgyu’s mouth on you, his lips around your fingers, his dick slipping in and out your thighs, the heat of it seeping through your underwear to your sopping pussy…

Fuck, you can’t go down that rabbit hole again or you’ll not only be late for breakfast but you’ll have to sit there soaking through your undergarments in the presence of the entire royal family.

You’re bursting through the dining hall door, apologies already tumbling out of your lips, when your eyes catch the gaze of an unfamiliar person and you screech to a halt.

The man smiles lightly, pretty dimples showing even with that slight smile, making your heart flutter. Who is this devastatingly handsome stranger?

“Oh, good morning, sir.” You sputter, staring at him dumbly.

“Good morning, beautiful lady.” He greets you back, his voice sweet and light and so melodic it almost distracts you from the fact that he called you beautiful. You have no idea how to respond to that. No man has ever called you beautiful before.

You’re lucky the king chose now to speak up or else you would’ve made a fool of yourself just standing there and staring at the stranger.

The king helpfully introduces the newcomer as Lord Taehyun, the head of the Kang family.

You immediately straighten up. The Kang family is one of the most ancient and dignified noble families in the kingdom, probably second only to the royal family themselves. They control the harbor that lets the sea trade into the kingdom, so it goes without saying how much power they hold. Even worse, they’re renowned for their ruthlessness. They have to be, since they not only let the sea trade into the kingdom, but they also hold down the sea border and protect the kingdom from any pillaging or invading forces.

It’s even rumored that the man standing in front of you has killed his own father in order to become the head of the family. Of course that’s just hearsay, but that doesn’t make you feel any better.

“Apologies for my rude interruption, my lord.” You bow deeply. God, you hope he doesn’t start demanding they take your head off for ruining his breakfast. “I’ll take my leave.”

“Don’t.” Lord Taehyun speaks out, his gentle voice but it stops you right in your tracks. “I will not have such a beautiful lady suffer through an empty stomach on my account. Please, have a seat.”

You blush at his unexpected kindness, scurrying to your seat with a low “Thank you, my lord.” before he thinks you’re disobeying him.

Once you’ve sat down at your designated seat next to the other ladies, you hazard a glance towards him, only to find him staring back at you with that same smile, and you quickly look down again.

“And what is your name, pretty lady?”

You jolt when you hear his voice, not having expected him to acknowledge your presence again. You tell him your full name, your voice uncharacteristically weak.

He looks a little puzzled at that. “Forgive me but I’m not familiar with your family, my lady.”

The queen speaks up before you can. “That’s because it’s a small family. Minor really.” She says, almost disparagingly, and you’re taken aback.

You know your family isn’t much, but no one in the royal family has ever spoken that way about it, at least not to your face. It makes you feel so small in front of such a powerful lord and you stare down at the plate in front of you in shame.

“No matter to me. It just means I have more to learn about the beautiful lady.”

You breath catches in your throat at that and you look up at him in disbelief. Is he… flirting with you?

You hear the sound of a glass being slammed against the table and you look to the source of the noise to see Beomgyu staring Lord Taehyun down. The other man looks at him with mild interest, no doubt wondering what his problem is.

Luckily, the queen interjects, diffusing the tension. “So, Lord Taehyun, are you ready for the next archery competition? Beomgyu has been practicing so much lately. I think he’ll finally snatch the title of the best archer in the kingdom from you.”

Oh right. Lord Taehyun always wins the archery competitions the crown holds. He’s supposed to be a prodigy in the field. Not that you’d know. You’ve never been allowed to attend these competitions before as Beomgyu insists that it’s really no place for a lady. But you don’t understand how that could be true when his own mother and sister attend them every time.

Lord Taehyun lets out a short laugh. “I’d like to see him try.”

You throw a glance at Beomgyu's way. You know that must’ve irked him. He’s always complained to you about his losses against this man and how much he wishes he could take him down for once.

You can see Beomgyu’s grip tighten around the utensils he’s holding. “You will.”

“I wish I could be there to see that match.”

You don’t know why the hell you spoke up, but suddenly, the whole table’s eyes are on you.

“Why don’t you come?” Lord Taehyun cocks his head to the side.

“Oh, I…” You trail off, glancing at Beomgyu again, and you wonder if he’ll actually disintegrate the knife and fork in his hands from how hard he’s gripping them.

“Better yet, why don’t you come down with me to the archery range and I could teach you to throw a couple of arrows yourself.” He grins at you invitingly, and your jaw slackens.

“I could never.” You breathe out, once again looking to Beomgyu. You know he wouldn’t like that. He’s always told you that a lady shouldn’t worry about such things and that it’s a man’s job to protect her when you’ve mentioned to him how much you’d like to learn archery. “It’s unladylike.”

“Nonsense. Everyone could benefit from learning how to defend themselves, even women. Especially women.” Lord Taehyun says.

“I guess so.” You reply in a small voice, unsure of what’s happening right now.

“Then it’s settled. You’ll accompany me to the archery range?” He asks, then turns to the king. “That is, if the king would allow me to make use of the palace’s range.”

The king hesitates for a moment before replying, “I’m afraid I can’t, my lord. The guards are scheduled to have their practice there today.”

You deflate at that. You hadn’t realized how much you wanted this until the king said no. It’s not just the archery, either. It’s lord Taehyun. This is the first time a man has expressed an interest in you and you were so looking forward to exploring that. Maybe, just maybe, your dream of getting married to a powerful man wasn’t completely hopeless. But now you’ll never know.

“That’s a shame.” Lord Taehyun ponders for a moment as you sit there lamenting your bad luck. “No matter. I’d still like the company of the beautiful lady if she’ll have me. What do you say you accompany me on a stroll through the palace gardens after this, my lady?”

Your head snaps up so fast you’re afraid you might’ve cracked your spine.

“I-I-” You attempt to formulate any sort of an intelligible response, but Beomgyu beats you to it.

“She can’t. She has obligations.” His voice is sharp and his expression is hard.

You stare at him in confusion. “But… I have nothing.”

“Yeah, you do.” The princess pipes up suddenly. “I need your help with something.”

“Oh.” You say dejectedly. Seriously, how rotten is your luck?

“That’s okay.” Lord Taehyun gives you a patient smile. “I’m staying here till the morning. We could just arrange something later. What do you say, my lady?”

“I’d love that.” You breathe, simultaneously feeling like the luckiest and unluckiest girl on the face of the earth.

_______________________

A/N: oh my god I worked so hard on this chapter so you guys better give me some feedback. Also what personality would you like taehyun to have?

#txt smut #beomgyu smut #yandere!txt #yandere

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reminiscingtonight · 1 year

Text

Guess We Lied

Lindsey Horan x Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

[WOSO Masterlist]

“Your tattoo is fading.”

The words are mumbled quietly in the early hours of the morning. While the skies are still dark, the girl still in your bed, and your head not yet caught up to your heart.

You don’t turn to face her. It’s only in moments like this you can pretend the two of you are still okay. That you are still Lindsey’s and she is still yours.

But you aren’t, not anymore.

“I miss you.”

The words cut deeply into the dead air.

You’re unable to stop your sharp intake of breath. You shut your eyes tight.

---

The worst part of breaking up with a friend is just that. Not only do you lose a lover, you lose a friend as well.

Six years of friendship, three years of companionship, gone, just like that.

Not lovers, not friends, not enemies. After the break up, the two of you simply became nothing.

“We just aren’t working anymore.”

All it takes is five words to end it all.

“I think what we need is a bit of space from each other.”

The last thing you want is space. But you love her. So you don’t put up a fight when she makes up her mind.

“It’ll bring us closer in the end. Promise.”

When Lindsey says she’s leaving, you didn’t think she meant the country.

The wound’s still fresh when you watch the love of your life walk through the airport doors.

When you get traded to Seattle a couple weeks later, you try not to let your bitterness show.

First it’s Lindsey not thinking you are enough.

Now it’s the Thorns.

It’s clear your friends don’t know what to do.

You don’t see much of Mal. She was always more Lindsey’s friend than yours.

Rose tries to fill the gaps in your life with coffee dates and dog visits. You don’t say anything when you hear her making the same plans with Lindsey.

Sam awkwardly hovers, always stumbling over her words as she tries to avoid the clear subject that is your failed relationship. It’s clear she doesn’t know what to do as much as you know what to do yourself.

Sonnett is your saving grace. She never once acts differently. Jokes here and there, giant ribbings that only increase when you don’t react the way she wants. She doesn’t pay heed to any of the warnings the other girls send her way. She was always the closest with Lindsey, but ultimately it’s your determination to keep in contact when she herself was traded away that she holds onto.

“What’s it like playing for the dark side?” Sophia jokes when she sees you at the next camp. You can almost feel the way everyone cringes when you give your weakest smile and shrug.

You try not to take it to heart when you notice the way Lindsey avoids you all camp. Lindsey seems further away here than she is when she’s in France. Not for the first time since you broke up, you question if you’ll truly ever be over the fallout of your relationship.

When camp ends, you return to an empty house and emptier heart.

A year passes. You’ve acclimated to the Washington temperate. You haven’t acclimated to the spot left by Lindsey’s absence.

You do everything you can think of. You adopt a puppy at the insistence of Rose. Taking care of the tiny German Shepherd helps a little to take your mind off things. It only works until the second day, when you think of how much Lindsey would’ve loved to give Ferguson a little brother.

The puppy gives you a lick when he picks up on the sadness clouding your mood.

It takes everything to keep your face neutral when you first hear about Ty.

You’re at camp, sitting at the table adjacent to Lindsey. That’s another thing that changed when the two of you broke up. You found a new seat beside a mix of older vets and some newer players and have stuck there ever since.

It’s almost impossible to miss Rose’s shriek of “you have a boyfriend?!” and Lindsey’s quiet mumble of affirmation.

Megan sends a look your way, but you make sure to keep your eyes trained on the plate in front of you. Sofia’s hand gives your knee a sympathetic squeeze, but you barely feel it. Your next bite tastes bland, swallowing is an even harder task to do.

It’s hard to ignore all the stares when you quietly make your exit a couple minutes later, appetite fully gone.

A couple years pass.

The space only gets bigger.

By now you’ve already come to the conclusion that Lindsey lied when she said the two of you would get closer someday.

You’ve also come to the conclusion that you’re never going to get over her.

You’re in Portland again when everything changes.

The highly anticipated Cascadia Rivalry was back in town and Lindsey was finally back and playing in Portland. Her loan had been extended another year, with an injury upon her return that had her out for the rest of the NWSL season. So, for the first since you broke up, the two of you are playing in the same league again.

The stadium is loud when the players march through the tunnel. You’ve been in the blue jersey for a while now, but you’re still not used to the feel of being a visitor in Portland.

The game is high paced from the start, but it isn’t until the second half that things come to a head. Seattle scores first, but it’s quickly followed by a Thorns goal. The next thing you know, the ball is at your feet.

The crowd is deafening as you streak down the field.

One second you’ve got the ball at your feet, sprinting towards goal.

The next second you’re curled up, hand clutching your ankle as you press your face to the grass.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I thought I had all ball.”

It’s the light hand pressed against your back that has you turning over. Your eyes meet stormy ones before you’re pushing her hand away. Lindsey stays crouched beside you, unsure what to do due to your reaction.

Her hand cautiously hovers near your shoulder, but it isn’t until you’re nearly shoving her away that Sinc pulls her away.

“Where does it hurt, kid?” Megan’s concerned face blocks Lindsey’s crestfallen one.

My heart, you want to answer. Instead, you grit out “my ankle,” through clenched teeth.

When the trainer comes out to evaluate your ankle, it takes everything in you not to unleash your entire swear vocabulary onto the field when she gently grips your foot.

Lindsey doesn’t fight the yellow card.

You’re still in too much pain to care about the looks she keeps sending your way.

You limp off the field, head hung low.

A mild sprain is the official diagnosis. Out for two, possibly three weeks.

You spend the rest of the game stewing in anger.

The anger only grows when the rest of your team trudges into the locker room, stormy expressions on their faces.

You don’t have to ask to know you lost.

Later, when you spot the head of blonde hair chilling by the locker room entrance, you spit out the first words on your mind.

“I hate you.”

Even just saying those three words made you sick. You don’t hate her, not really.

Lindsey looks taken aback. You know she thinks you’re talking about her tackle from earlier.

Your ankle hurt, but it didn’t hold a light to the pain in your heart.

You push on, not letting her have enough time to come up with anything to say. “I hate-- I hate the way you make me feel. The way my skin crawls whenever I think about you. The way I don’t know if I want to scream or cry whenever I see your face.”

Shock is the first expression that flashes across her face. Lindsey opens her mouth, but nothing comes out.

“You said the space would make us closer.”

Your finger digs accusingly against Lindsey’s chest. She doesn’t push you away.

“You’re a lot of things, but I didn’t take you as a liar.”

There are tears falling down your face now, but you don’t care enough to wipe them away. Lindsey’s already seen you at your worst. What’s a couple more tears?

“I’m not a liar.” Her words come out choked.

You scoff, running a shaky hand through your hair. “You’re a liar,” you repeat.

“I’m not.” Something flashes in her eyes, but you’re too caught up in your own emotions to decipher it.

“Liar,” you spit out. “It only took you, what? A year and a half to find someone else? You’re so caught up in your new lover that you can’t even--”

Lindsey lunges towards you and your words die in your throat.

Her lips still taste as you remember. She still feels the same.

The kiss is in no way gentle. Her lips press bruisingly against yours. Her fingers dig firmly against your jaw. Your hands helplessly clutch at the sides of her sweater as you get swept up in all that is Lindsey.

When you finally break apart, it’s to pull in lungfuls of air. Lindsey doesn’t pull away. All she does is scan your eyes as you stay inches apart.

“Tell me you don’t need me.”

The words are whispered harshly against her lips.

“Tell me you’re never thinking of me.”

Your voice cracks.

Lindsey’s hands only tighten.

“Tell me whatever it takes for me to finally let you go.”

---

“Don’t.” It comes choked out as you shut your eyes.

After the adrenaline has faded, all you feel is the shame. The shame of how weak you are. Of how you haven’t been able to move on.

You’re pretty sure there’s something wrong when it’s been years and you still can’t move on from a person.

“I’m not a liar.”

Her hand drifts across the blankets. You have to fight the urge to pull back when it brushes yours.

“I broke up with him a while back.”

Your breath dies in your throat. You can feel the burn of her gaze against the side of your face.

“He was a great man.”

Her hand bumps purposefully against yours again.

You don’t fight it when she hooks a finger around one of yours.

“But he’s no you.”

When you open your eyes, it’s to soft eyes peering across the bed at you.

“Your tattoo is fading,” she repeats, finger moving down to trail against your wrist before moving it back towards your hand.

Her hand lingers, not touching, but not quite pulling away.

No, the two of you aren’t okay.

You hesitantly close the distance, letting your fingers lock with hers.

But with Lindsey’s hand clasped in yours, you know that you will be someday.

Because with Lindsey’s hand clasped against yours, you finally feel like you could breathe again.

#lindsey horan x reader #uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine #Ace writes

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