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misserabella · 1 year

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stray pt 3

joel miller x fem! reader

< previous chapter next chapter >

summary; after saving Joel and Ellie from the brink of death, you get caught with having to live with two more strays.., and you don't do strays.

REMINDER: english is not my mother language so i apologize if there are some mistakes <3!; either ways, i hope y'all like it.

REPOSTS AND COMMENTS ARE VERY MUCH APPRECIATED!<3

warnings; eventual +18 content! (age gap), MINORS DONT INTERACT IN THE CHAPTERS WHERE IT IS IMPLIED IN THE WARNINGS. and smut, mentions of death, possible deaths, blood, fighting, angst, fluff.

warnings for chapter 3; angst, mourning, reckless activities, cigarettes, alcohol, talk about previous deaths, mentions of blood and clickers, mentions of murder, a cute Ellie, and MUSIC (you’ll understand later…) WE FINALLY GET TO KNOW WHO LAURA IS!

Please, under no circumstances, repost my work on any other sites. I do not consent to anyone taking my work and posting it as their own.

The cold caves into your bones, the air freezes your lungs, which you fill with the smoke of the 4th cigarette you’d lit up that night. There’s a bottle of whiskey that you kept on your hidden spot for moments like this. Moments where you needed to pull your feet back to the ground stronger, where you needed to understand your present.

The stars were slowly fading, your eyes getting tired. You took a shot from the bottle, your throat burning and veins rushing. It all made the distance bellow your feet seem bigger.

You took a look at the empty site at your left. It used to be warm, but now it was as cold as ice. A pang of pain fills your chest and you only can drink up one more time. The alcohol was running out. Half a bottle down. “Fucking bitch.” you muttered, a broke laugh leaving your chest.

You were angry. “You fucking bitch, Laura…”

You were hurt. “You really had to go and be a hero, huh? Always the good fucking girl you are, hm?” you shook your head, hands trembling, ashes falling. “Well, was it worth it? If this is what means being a hero… Was it fucking worth it…?” one more shot, your mind is getting fuzzy, your eyes are getting softer, your tears getting bigger…

Your mind wanders back to the time when you’d have gotten an answer, not this silence. This goddamn silence that has surrounded you, caged you.

“If you only you had just run.” you muttered. “If only you had just run!” your voice breaks and breathing gets harder. You hated it. Hated her.

‘I’ll see you later, alright?’

“You goddamn liar…” your eyes stung with the tears you so stubbornly forgave to let go of. “You’ve been gone for a year. Where are you, huh?” the bottle empties in your stomach and your body shakes.

Your mind remembers you of that day, of the tears you’d shed. Of the arms of Larry around you, pulling you away from the closed doors of hell, letting Laura there to burn, to rot.

‘Let go of me! Let go! Larry, let go! Laura… Laura is still in there! We need to save her! We need to…’

‘I’ll see you later, alright?’

Maybe you could have saved her. Maybe if you had stayed. If you hadn’t let her close the door and save you. Maybe you would have been able to kill the infected, maybe that bloater hadn’t ripped her apart…

“Fuck.” your anger hits and the glass spatters though the floor, the crashing of the Daniel’s bottle reminded you of yourself.

But no. You had had to listen to her quiet screams and moans of pain through the other side of the steel door, which won’t open to your tugging, stuck, safely shut against the death, the danger. She had tried to stay quiet. To go silently. Stubborn.

You couldn’t suppress your tears for much longer. The cigarette long burnt out.

Your ears catch the cracking of glass at your back, and your hands clutch your gun, pointing in a swift motion.

Joel.

You let out a sarcastic scoff. Of course.

The beams of the sun suddenly rise behind you and he glows on a shade of orange that makes his brown eyes shine.

He stares at you, silently. You put down your gun. The gray of his hair sparkles like the stars in the sky, long gone.

You look away and swiftly blink out your tears as you put back your gun into your pocket. The glass cracks and then he’s leaning on the wall you sit down. On your left. That ice cold spot that hasn’t been filled in so long. Warm again.

Yoke stomach churns. The terrace has never felt more crowded.

“What are you doing here?” you ask. He doesn’t answer ‘till a lit cigarette sits on his mouth.

“Watching the sunrise.” he shrugged, his tone more like a mock. “What are you doing here?” as if he didn’t know, as if there wasn’t glass under his feet and he couldn’t smell the alcohol from your skin. You didn’t answer, going for your 5th cigarette. Your first of the morning.

The next time he talks, his words dip on your skin like knifes. “Who’s Laura?” your head snaps towards him, rage on your veins, but you find his eyes and they seemed to hit you with more alcohol ‘cause you went numb. You don’t answer. You can’t. ‘Cause he’s on her seat, and you fear your voice will crack. Instead, your eyes burn. You understand where you are once again.

“Does it matter?” you inquired, looking away, pushing your voice out of your chest, hardening your gaze, swallowing everything inside…

Your cigarette is dying fast, and you are breathing hard.

“Of course it matters if it makes you drink a whole bottle of whiskey…” he said, and you almost laughed.

“What are you and Ellie hiding from?” you asked back. If you two were going to talk about delicate things…

His face changed, and you noticed. He stayed silent and took a hit of his cigarette. You had aimed perfectly, hit the mark. He sighs, the smoke leaving his mouth.

“Ellie… Is important.” he suddenly said. “She…, could be the cure to all of this shit. No more infected. No more deaths… They promised that they just needed a bit of her blood.” they? “But they lied, I only found out what they were going to do to her mere minutes after she had entered the surgical room… They… I had to save her.” he couldn’t find the words, let them out of his chest. You understood. They were going to kill Ellie to save the world.

“I understand.” you muttered.

“Isn’t it selfish?” he inquired, and you thought about it. Maybe it was the alcohol on your body. Maybe your broken heart, but the noise that filled the silence wasn’t that bad… “This could have been the end of all.”

“No.” you simply answered. “If instead of Ellie it had been someone as important to me as she is to you I would have saved her too, no matter what I had to do.” your voice was soft, softer than he had ever heard it, your eyes on the sun. You glowed, but a sadness surrounded you. A sadness that you thought would never disappear. “No matter who I had to kill.”

He falls silent. He believes you. He has seen the look in your eyes every time you hold a gun. It was ready to shoot, to kill…

“Now they are looking for us. Don’t know where to go. The big cities still are under FEDRA’s control.” he seems tired. He is tired. His mind can’t stop racing. The long hours of the night seeming danger. Every time he closed his eyes he saw Ellie being taken away, being put under on that metallic table ready to be cut open. “Can’t stay here either. We are taking up your space.”

You didn’t answer. It was true. They were taking up space in your home. But did it really matter? You found it horrible while empty, it didn’t change if they were inside or not. Every corner of that apartment was haunted. Only the fact that it was never quiet. That you were never alone.

“Laura…” your breath hitched, your mind dizzy. “Laura was my best friend.” he listened, and you felt like breaking. ‘Cause it had been a long time since you talked about her, since you introduced her to anyone. You looked into his eyes, a ‘you don’t have to’ silently screamed. “She died. She saved me and died.” you scoffed, shaking your head. “She was one of you. A stray that I found on my way back home. You should have seen her, with her curly hair and ragged clothes. She was so young… We were so young…” a sad smile tugs from your lips. “And she was so scared. I didn’t like her at first. Why did I need to take her in with me? I didn’t know her and she was always so loud…” you laughed, and this time your chest felt lighter. Joel looked at you, listening, taking everything in. “Always doing something. She made our flat a mess; decorations everywhere, music in every goddamn room... Most days I ended up with a headache. But now… You don’t even know how bad I’d want to wake up to her making coffee in the kitchen, to beg me to take another picture together…” you never got to talk to her about this. You never had friends. Never before her and never after. “I haven’t stepped into her room since she…” you couldn’t say it, instead taking a deep breath. “I still hope she’d come back, everyday I try to lie to myself about it, try to make myself believe that she’s okay, that she’s alive and that she’d come back.” your eyes stung, but you wouldn’t cry. It was always like this. Fighting with yourself to not be vulnerable, to not fall apart, even if that was what you needed the most, what you truly wanted. “I can’t sleep without seeing her.” you confessed.

So that was why you never slept…

“How many days has it been now since the last time?” he inquired, and that’s when he noticed just how deep your eye bags were, how tired you look.

“Five.” you answered and he nodded.

“I’m sorry…, about Laura.” it was you who nodded this time.

“It’s not okay, but it has to be. I can’t have it any other way. She’s gone.” that was the first time you ever said it out loud, and for a moment it all seemed to be falling apart behind your feet, ‘till it wasn’t. Your eyes met Joel’s, grayish hair blowing with the wind.

You’re drunk. So drunk than this time you take your time to really look at him. He just looks at you back. His lips surround the bud of the cigarette, they look smooth, plump and pink, his jaw was sharp, his cheekbones tall. His mustache and beard paint his face with roughness. His eyebrows are full, and his lashes long, his nose big…

“Your watch is broken.” you suddenly said and he scoffed, smiling, trying to fight the bubble of laughter on his chest. It was so…, sudden. But it was expected, God knows what goes on inside a drunk’s head.

“It is.” he says, and looks at it with the same smile.

“Mr. Fidcht could fix it up for you, he’s a watchmaker.”

“It’s okay. I like it this way.” you nodded, and in silence let go of it, trying to ignore the little change in his eyes when you had talked about it.

Everyone has things they don’t like to talk about.

Back at the apartment, it somehow seemed brighter, cozier. Maybe it was just you being drunk, but it made your heart race, ‘cause it felt like her somehow.

You fell on the sofa, your body aching and wounds pinching, your body felt heavy and warm, and you were tired, your own breathing lulling you to sleep. Your mind for once wasn’t afraid of seeing Laura in dreams, your heart blooming when, instead of the same nightmare that had been torturing you for months, you dreamed of the day you two met.

The sound of shuffling papers and the trickling on your arm slowly woke you up. You frowned as your sight cleared up, confuse and with a slight headache. When you finally woke up entirely and focused your eyes, you noticed where the noise had been coming from: Ellie. She was seating at the feet of the sofa in which you were sleeping, a comic book against his legs as he read. The tickling on your arm was her wavy her, which now stood down, reaching her shoulders. He was munching on a sandwich as she read. ‘Savage Starlight’, you recognized. How could you not?

“Shit brat, am I your pillow or what?” you groaned, and she looked back at you with surprise at your sudden voice.

“Oh, you’re alive. Though for a moment you were an infected, you were growing vines in that sofa.” she funnily said, and you flick your middle finger onto her forehead, smiling triumphantly as she curved on herself and whined in pain, pressing her hands to the affected zone.

You got up from the sofa and you stretched your back, groaning. You always ended up with back pains after sleeping on it. You quickly made your way to the kitchen and took a big glass of water with a pain killer.

“I made eggs. There are some left there.“ Ellie suddenly said as she had followed you to the kitchen. Her forehead red as she pointed to a covered pan. You took a peek at them. They were completely black.

“Jesus Christ kid, how did you managed to fuck up some scrambled eggs? Fucking scrambled eggs!” you say, taking the pan and showing them to her.

“I don’t see the problem in them.” she says and you gave her a ‘really’ look that made her roll her eyes. “Okay… Maybe they are a little burnt up. But I promise they are not that bad.”

“Yeah, only if you are looking to die.” her offended face almost made you scoff when you threw them into the bin, the pan sitting soaked on water to later on scrape the burnt bits off.

“Rude.” she rolls her eyes and leaves the kitchen to go to the salon, you watch her go though the open apartment. You get on with toasting some bread, today more hungry than yesterday. Maybe due to the hungover. Suddenly the apartment fills with music and you turn, body shaking, heart racing.

“80’s! Joel had a radio that always was playing 80 songs, he was always in trouble.” she smiles as she looks at you, though her smile falls when she sees your face. You’re looking through her, at a ghost that always dances in the room. “I… I can turn it off if…” she tries and apologize, fix it, but you cut her off.

“No, it’s okay…” you promise, more like blurt out, ‘cause it felt painful, but right. It had been a year since you listened to music. It never filling your life like before. “Leave it.” your eyes soften, and Ellie freezes, ‘cause she can see the phantom of a smile, and it’s so rare that she wants to take a picture. “That’s one of my favorites.” she smiles. Beams. And turns it louder, bobbing her head and finally starting to dance while humming a song that she really doesn’t know, but feels.

You watch her, and you can almost hear Laura’s laughter. Can almost see her dancing and singing for you, screaming for you to join her.

You smile, but never show it, instead eating your toast as Ellie looses herself to the music, for the first time in weeks feeling finally safe enough to enjoy it. Really enjoy it.

And you think that maybe someday you’ll join her and teach her a couple moves.

When you see Joel once again is late at night, so late the lights are out and you can hear snores every now and then coming from Ellie sleeping in your room.

He freezes when he hears the soft music you’d left playing on the salon, a lullaby to the silence inside of your apartment.

‘music in every goddamn room…’

He recalls from your conversation early on the morning.

His eyes met you out on the balcony, smoking, your eyes soft on the sky. You were breathing slowly, daydreaming, taking hits of your cigarette just to let the smoke scape in between your lips.

He doesn’t say hi once he makes his way to the empty seat he had been occupying the last few days. There’s no need. You don’t either.

You spare him a glance, he lits a cigarette.

“No alcohol.” you nod. “And the music?” he inquires.

“Ellie.” you simply answer and his eyes screamed a sorry that you didn’t accept. It was music. Music that once you used to dance so happily it hurt your chest to remember.

“Larry asked for you. Went to help him with a fence.” he says and you nod again.

It was always this quiet in between the two of you, you’d noticed.

As the other night, your first-aid kit is open and ready to be used. It was time to clean your wounds. And just like the other night, he gently helps you clean the one wound on your cheek that you can’t see.

It’s gentle, and soft, careful… You noticed how your chairs had come closer for him to get a better reach. Had it been you? Had it been him? You didn’t know. It doesn’t matter anyways…

He puts on the plaster and pulls away, and you thank him. He doesn’t get that often. He likes it. He looks at you and then takes a hit of his cigarette.

“I lost someone too.” he suddenly says, and your eyes meet his jawline. “When the outbreak happened. I tried to scape with my brother Tommy and my daughter, but the highways were clogged and we got into an accident trying to look for another way out.” he takes a deep breath, and you noticed that you had been holding yours unconsciously. “We had to get out and run. Escaping from an infected, a soldier saved us, but then… Then his superior gave the order to kill us. I tried to make up his mind. They were gonna shoot us because they thought we were infected. We weren’t. But he wouldn’t listen and fired the gun…” his eyes look so empty it breaks you. You could hear the sadness on his voice. “Her name… Her name was Sarah. She died on my arms.” your breathing catches, and he simply falls silent. “My watch was her birthday gift to me. I can’t bring myself to fix it.”

“I’m sorry.” you say, and his eyes softened on you, telling you it was okay, that now you too knew that he had loved someone that he had lost.

You stayed silent for minutes on end. Your cigarettes die, and you stand in the middle of the night alone in your balcony, your eyes on the distance.

“You could stay.” you suddenly said, and it caught you both by surprise. Your mouth moved faster than your brain. “Here. I mean.” you clarify. “FEDRA can’t touch you and Ellie here, she’ll be safe.”

His eyes met yours and the air surrounding you feels warmer.

“I thought you didn’t like strays.” he says, and you smile, and he can swear his heart stops. It’s just as blinding as the moon that hits his side, a sight never seen.

“I don’t.”

taglist;

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pedro pascal masterlist <3

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galerymod · 4 months

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Gene Tierney - Hollywood's forgotten star

She played every conceivable character in 34 films: actress Gene Tierney never allowed herself to be confined to one role, as was the norm in Hollywood.

For Martin Scorsese, Gene Tierney is one of the most underrated actresses from the heyday of US cinema. The actress never allowed herself to be confined to one role, as was the norm in Hollywood, but played every conceivable character in 34 films, from Joseph L. Mankiewicz's "A Ghost on Freelance Feet" to Ernst Lubitsch's feature film "A Heavenly Sinner", which became a milestone in her career in 1943. She probably took on her best-known role in 1944 in "Laura" by Otto Preminger, with whom she subsequently worked several more times. In 1946, Tierney was nominated for an Oscar for her role as a psychopath in "Mortal Sin" (1945).

As a teenager, Gene Tierney was advised by Anatole Litvak during a visit to a film studio that she should become an actress. The actress, who inspired directors such as Josef von Sternberg, Joseph L. Mankiewicz and John Ford, had an eventful life story

Lubitsch was a tyrant on the set, the most demanding of directors. After one scene, which took from noon until five to get, I was almost in tears from listening to Lubitsch shout at me. The next day I sought him out, looked him in the eye, and said, 'Mr. Lubitsch, I'm willing to do my best but I just can't go on working on this picture if you're going to keep shouting at me.' 'I'm paid to shout at you', he bellowed. 'Yes', I said, 'and I'm paid to take it – but not enough.' After a tense pause, Lubitsch broke out laughing. From then on we got along famously.

Gene Tierney

She had a methapysical beauty that took your breath away.

Her silence lent mystical expressiveness to every scene, only intensified by her gaze.

mod

This movie is a real treat, from the set, lighting, editing, story to the acting performances.

One of my favorite old Hollywood movies.

mod

#gene tierney #hollywood #star #wikipedia #laura #leave her to heaven #W. Howard Lee #John F. Kennedy #Gene Eliza Tierney #old hollywood #tabacco road #great cinematic masterpiece #film noir

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flameohotpotatooo · 7 months

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For those who play DnD and Baldur's Gate 3

If you could give companions (and npcs) different classes/subclasses from other sources, what would you give them?

Read bellow

Lae'zel: Battle Master fighter fits her fine but I'd multiclass her with Drakewarden Ranger. Favored enemy? Also a magical dragon pet?

Karlach: Barbarian also fits her, but Juggernaut? Hello? Best for a Barbarian on front lines of a war on higher levels

Shadowheart: First of all, I wouldn't keep her as a cleric, but a paladin. She doesn't have the wise energy that comes with cleric. She's a devotion paladin. BUT if I want to pick a cleric subclass for her, twilight is a cool thing. Not dark as Shar and not light as Selune. She's the middle line. The only trickery cleric I can get behind to work is Jester by Laura Bailey.

Jaheira: Druid is cool, ranger is better (for her) I see her as a resourceful and more dynamic flexible like a ranger is both in utility of a fight and nature. Either Beast master or Primeval Guardian.

Halsin: He's fine where he is. Moon druid is good for him. I thought of giving him Blood hunter order of lycan and have him turn into a were-bear but I think blood hunters are a bit too harsh and aggressive for him.

Gale: Evocation wizard is cool, but for Gale I go for Chronurgy (thanks critical role) Gale wants to fight his goddess one way or another, give him the power to manipulate time. It's something that out of books and he'll fullfil the prodigy type.

Astarion: I thought Blood hunter? But he's not a fit for subclasses. Have a vampire dealing radiant damage is a funny image tho, ngl. But keeping him a rogue, and make him swashbuckler. They're charisma build rogues and he's a charismatic asshole.

Wyll: he's a warlock, his story is a warlock, so fiend pact of blade he stays for me... But! Hear me out. Palock. Paladin warlock. Paladin of redemption. Unless you have him kill karlach then he's Paladin of conquest.

Minsc: ... Gee fuck! He's a challenge for me bc I love rangers and he has the sweet baby barbarian vibe for some reason but he's not a barbarian either. I keep him as he is bc he confuses me.

Dame Aylin: mommy is paladin coded, she's best for Paladin of glory. Or ancient. Have it your way.

Isobel: Cleric of light, sure... Multiclass her with druid of stars

Ketheric Thorm: Paladin of either devotion (bc obv devoted to Myrkul for his debt) or conquest bc of the fear and intimidation he rules with.

Enver Gortash: Yes yes I'm gonna say it... Artificer. Either Mechanism or armorer, but I go far to say he can be a bard too. Bards harness the power of their words, they are jack of all traits, and can have expertise in many tools. It's not a written rule to have all bards as musicians. Lawyers can be bards, artists can be bards.

Orin the red: She's tough for me tbh. To pull tricking and passing as someone else you need high charisma. She doesn't have sorcerer or bard vibe, not rogue or warlock either. Blood hunter (heh) profane soul needs pact with higher entity (Bhaal) and I think this class can suit her. I'm open to criticism on this take.

Durge: I won't choose sorcerer for them. I find gloom stalker Ranger better fit for a serial killer. But sorcery, sure... Evil devine soul and when redeemed durge (spoilers) dies and Withers brings them back, it's up for debate to loose the sorcery or be other subtypes.

Share your takes.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #enver gortash #laezel #shadowheart #karlach #astarion #halsin #wyll bg3 #durge #jaheira #gale bg3 #ketheric thorm #isobel thorm #dame aylin #orin the red #minsc

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wr1ghtstuff · 1 year

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The New Woman

Summary: Theres a new professor at a your college that you’ve just enrolled in, except you didn’t expect her to be this hot- oh, and Alex Vause.

Alex Vause / Laura Prepon x female reader

PART 1 🫶

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The second day of a brand new college.

New friends. New surroundings. New life essentially.

After three missed alarm calls and a rant from my mother on how I should have my shit together by my big age, I chucked on whatever clothes I could find in my wardrobe (that you could somewhat call an outfit) and headed straight to college and got on the bus in a flame of bulge.

After a boisterous and painful Monday, sat surrounded by rich freaks and bitchy girls, I was considering if college was even right for me. It was like some form of dystopian hell in there- a fresh room with a fresh tutor is a fresh start again, right?

It had to be better than yesterday- surely?

Checking the time on my phone in a panic, my heartbeat felt like it was slamming itself against my skull whilst the oxygen invaded my trembling lungs with each inhalation. At the thought of being behind everyone, I blush out of worry and pick up my pace before approaching the new mysterious room with my group of friends just after 10.30.

I couldn't be late for a new teacher- what sort of first impression is that!?

I throw in impulsively to my friends how much I didn't even want to come in to today's lesson through a clenched jaw as I thought of our main tutor and how she treated our class.

I shoulder my way into the room taking deep breaths and fiddling with the skin on the ends of my fingers as I scanned the room for the perfect place to sit before we settled in and selected our seats in the room.

Great. The only seats left are ones right by the board and the main bigger and black chair.

Why oh why do we always get the crap seats near the teacher!?

After a few minutes of my internal panic, I was relived to see that the lecturer hadn't arrived yet and seeing the rest of my class group lively and chatting to each other.

With relief, I turn and look at my friend (who was sat across from me on our table) through deep breaths to try and calm me down, as we started talking and laughing about some random shit we had just thought of whilst waiting for whoever our new lecturer was to turn up.

Smiling constantly, I had a good feeling about today despite the ghastly start to my day.

My friend Christie bellowed something hilarious from some TikTok or something sending us all into a fit of laughter until the tears actually started forming in our eyes.

God, how could I love these people so much in such a short space of time.

I glanced at the clock that stood strong above the projected board and notice that it was already 10.36.

Where was this woman?

Composing ourselves as we saw a tall figure shadow it's way around the corner, she stood bright but stressed as she slowly opened the door that moaned on its hinges and then entered our room carrying a pile of notepads and her laptop which she obviously couldn't fit in her under filled tote bag.

Speak of the devil.

I turn to the same friend that had just made me nearly piss myself with laughter as we lock our eyes in some sort of joint joy sensation and a gleaming smile soon spread wide across our faces.

In does not slouch the middle aged woman with grey hair and a long teacher style dress we all anticipated.

My gaze widens fully towards her and I subconsicously straighten my back, leaning forward in the seat in anticipation for something that I just couldn't form into words.

Dumbfounded, I trail my enervated eyes over the new female creature that had just entered the room like I was scanning for something. She was noticeably in a rush and was flustered, hence her slightly red cheeks.

There could be no simple explanation why this woman looked the way she did.

Her brunette bangs shook freely at the top of her head and trailed down either side of her face. They shone bright in the little bit of light that fought its way into the room making her look unearthly. I swallowed hard even though my throat was bone dry as my eyes roamed over her body once more.

A checked grey blazer, black suit trousers and doc martens. Could it be, oh my god?

I inwardly scream, feeling my stomach drop a few metres downhill. My entrancement abruptly comes to an end after a hard shove in the side fights against my body, making me subtly loose my balance as I turn and see the deadly glare from one of the girls next to me in a mischievous smile.

"Oh, stop it Y/N," my friend Elizabeth chuckled “I can almost see your lady boner from here”. I turned to her in a panic and see that she is giving me the look. Not just any look- the one to imply that I was in a different world and I wasn't going to live this moment down.

I quickly reinforce my stance I had before the woman entered the room after realising I was now slouched across my table with a form of drool leaving the side of my lip. I rapidly sat up as if nothing had happened and put on the usual composed and interested face.

The woman put her tote bag and her pride month edition 'Kanken' bag on the front table and then leaned against it whilst waiting for a silent order to come from the class.

"Okay, sorry about the late entrance everyone but my name is Miss Vause and I will be teaching you your skills for this project...."

In response, my stomach began to flutter slightly making me press my hand against the new uncomfortable feeling.

I couldn't even care what was coming out of her mouth, her emerald green eyes gleamed with every word she spoke, complimenting the dimples on either side of her smile.

"Oh. my. god," Christie mouthed from across the table resting her head in her palms whilst the smile still spread joyfully. "She is wow; Y/N, I don't even know what to say."

All I needed to care about at this point was trying not to show the unholy amount of dribble coming from the side of my lip in awe.

Whist Miss Vause was speaking, I opened up my laptop with sweaty palms as my heart started to pound against my chest even harder. My cheeks transfigured into a rosy bed of redness almost out of embarrassment and my voice got softer and warmer with every word.

As the hour went on, her voice became softer out of nerves and her smile grew more forceful before running her hand through her hair reshaping her bangs.

"Miss Vause, I have no idea how to use photoshop," Haz (a classmate of mine) mentioned as she finished her sentence. "Would you be able to help me?"

I had never been so jealous of that man in my life.

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#alex vause #oitnb icons #netflix oitnb #oitnbedit #oitnb #orange is the new black #laura prepon #laurapreponxy/n #alexvause smut #filmandtv #fanfic #oitnbfanfic #oitnb cast #lesbian #oitnbxreader

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bratanimus · 11 months

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33. you are such a nerd

@khaleesa, thank you for this awesome prompt! It was a lot of fun to write. And thanks to the lovely @pipergirl17 for betaing! I hope to work on the other prompts in my Ask box soon.

~*~

Hoard

Eddie sprawled on his stomach across Chrissy’s white eyelet comforter and peered over the edge of the bed, like the invisible Bilbo peeping at Smaug. All around herself, his girlfriend (someday he would stop italicizing that word in his mind, but today was not that day) had spread a veritable dragon’s hoard of paper, folders, notebooks, flashcards, pencil cases, and pens of all colors on the pink shag carpet.

Sitting cross-legged in her running sweats, framed in a patch of afternoon sunlight, Chrissy looked luminous as she carefully pried open the lid of a box of new pencils as if it were a treasure chest.

“Tell me again,” Eddie said.

He pushed up the long sleeves of his T-shirt and rested his chin on the heels of both hands in what he hoped was a coquettish and distracting manner, his jean-clad legs bent and kicking his socked feet behind him like he was at an honest-to-god Annette Funicello pajama party.

“Why are you doing this, exactly?”

Chrissy gave him the briefest of eye rolls, because she’d already started to explain on their way upstairs…though she’d been interrupted when they’d passed the Cunningham household’s actual dragon, who’d bellowed after them, “Door stays open!” Eddie could almost feel the mistrust billowing like acrid steam from Laura’s sewing room. Well, the old reptile would get used to him sooner or later. Or not.

“Make fun all you want,” Chrissy huffed (oh, she was cute when she was miffed at him, and maybe he shouldn’t rile her up, but he was a dumbass still getting used to having her undivided attention, so sue him if he occasionally resorted to his old habits of poking and prodding and other sorts of ill-advised provocation, and anyway, she didn’t seem to mind). “But it’s the end of spring break.”

With that, Chrissy pinned him with a friendly glare, as if a reminder of the calendar date should’ve made everything crystal clear.

Smirk (and dimples) still firmly in place, she broke the eraser off one of those brand new pencils, an unexpected act of violence that made Eddie’s eyebrows shoot upward. She tossed the nub into the flowery little trash can under her desk. Then she grabbed a fat, pink, arrowhead-shaped cap eraser from a pile of them and twisted it onto the top of the pencil.

“Ah, I see,” said Eddie, not seeing at all.

Chrissy only laughed at his confused expression, so he lay flat on his chest, chin on the bed’s edge, letting his arms dangle so he could fiddle with the felt tip pens scattered on the carpet. He stole a glance at Chrissy and pondered why one eraser might be somehow inherently better than another, so much so that she had to amputate and reattach, like some nerdy bookworm version of Mary Shelley.

“School starts back in a couple of days, right?” Chrissy went on as she attacked the next pencil.

“Uh-huh.”

Eddie shoved aside her big green binder and slid his fingertips along the pens as he lined them up, orange and purple and red and blue—

Bonk! Another brand new nub landed in the trash can, and another cap eraser got reamed by a wooden writing instrument.

“I always reorganize my school supplies after fall break, Christmas break, and spring break. It helps me stay focused.”

“Mmm-hmm,” he bullshitted, as if he had any idea about systems for focusing.

He arranged the pens according to the colors of the rainbow, remembering Roy G. Biv, the acronym his seventh grade art teacher had taught for the progression of colors. But Chrissy owned way more than the seven basic shades here. There were at least two dozen. Did she carry these to school every day in a pencil case, a small treasure trove in her pink backpack?

“I love school supplies,” she gushed, continuing her mutilation of the pristine set of Ticonderogas, popping off a dozen heads one by one and replacing them with bloated Frankenstein ones.

He knew she had a thing about control, and Eddie had seen her do her fair share of feverish erasing in the two classes they shared this year. But were twelve cap erasers really necessary?

Messing with the felt tips on the floor, he must’ve asked that last bit out loud, because Chrissy said tightly, “Oh, you know. Just in case I need to correct a lot.”

Oops. He’d touched a nerve. He needed a distraction.

“I bet you pack five extra pairs of underwear for every overnight trip,” he mused, “just in case you have a blowout.”

“Ew!” she squealed.

An eraser nub hit him square between the eyes, which made him flinch and blink.

“Seriously, Eddie. Are blowouts something I should worry about?”

“Oh, I dunno. Hang around with me long enough—”

A larger arrowhead eraser smacked him on the cheek. He caught it before it fell off the bed, stuck it on his pinky, and made it speak over Chrissy’s giggles.

“Look, lady,” he Muppet-squeaked, “you have an eraser problem. And possibly an underwear problem. You need help!”

Chrissy pointed to his pinky. “Speak not to me, nor my Trapper Keeper, ever again. You’re just jealous of my loot.”

“I have absolutely no use for dragon-guarded treasures,” Eddie murmured, quoting Tolkien as he slipped the eraser from his pinky and laid it reverently in Chrissy’s outstretched hand, “and the whole lot could stay here for ever, if only I could wake up and find this beastly tunnel was my own front-hall at home.”

Watching him, Chrissy’s eyes glimmered, prettier than any gemstones. His cheeks warmed.

It was something to be looked at by her, wasn’t it? To be admired? He dropped his gaze back down to the pens he was arranging and hoped his face wasn’t too red.

“That’s it.” The words were barely a breath.

Eddie’s gaze rose again to find Chrissy staring down at her hoard of loot, hands upturned helplessly on her knees, the arrowhead eraser still in the center of her palm like the One Ring.

He tried to match her hushed tone. “What?”

“That’s how I feel. All the time. This house. All my things. It’s just…stuff.”

And she had no other home but this beastly one.

Eddie's heart pinched.

“Come up here,” he said.

She did, lying on her stomach next to him, chin resting on her folded arms as she watched him arrange the felt tips into different configurations with one hand. Gravity made his veins bulge a little; they looked knobbly and greenish-blue in the bright light from her window. His hand could almost be a pale dragon skittering over its mountain of treasure.

He didn’t know what to say, because he couldn’t say what he wanted to.

Come away with me. Let me be your treasure. You are already mine.

Leaning into her with one shoulder, he reached awkwardly into his front pocket and scrounged for the ever-present handful of mismatched polyhedral die, which he tossed to the floor, a field of shimmering stars around what he’d written across the landscape of her Pepto-Bismol carpet.

“Wait.” Chrissy’s head lifted from her forearms. She blew her bangs out of her eyes. “Does that say—”

It did indeed. Eddie had arranged her plethora of pens to read

NERD

“You are such a nerd,” he whispered, creasing his brow and dipping his chin for emphasis. He wondered if she could somehow read on his face what he was really thinking.

Chrissy looked back at him and smiled like he’d just placed a crown on her head. He swallowed. Maybe she could read his thoughts. Eddie tucked her lovely smile away into his own mental hoard, for safekeeping.

“Takes one to know one,” she said, cutting the inhalation for his retort short with a kiss.

He nodded his fervent agreement until her widening grin made further kissing more difficult, but not impossible.

The eraser lay forgotten on the floor with the rest of the hoard.

#hellcheer #hellcheer fic #eddissy #stranger things #stranger things fic #chrissy x eddie #eddie x chrissy #eddie munson #chrissy cunningham #ask fic #writing prompts #my fic #hoard

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maboroshi-no · 5 months

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What its your crazy theory on hamefura?

Mine is that ogkatarina is still inside of katarina, she just lets monkey girl do everything at first out fear of the Doom flags and later because her life is legit better than whatever she had before.

Like imagine her having vacation spot just bellow council of katarinas where she just chills while watching monkey girl choices.

Well, I have a few crazy theories 😆.

Like you, I imagine OG!Katarina is still in there. Either she is wearing a black hood and is hiding in the shadows of the council, or she has been here all along as either Serious Katarina or Chairman Katarina, since they hide their faces. Though I admit OG!Katarina would probably have a hard time hiding her selfish personality, so maybe it is not likely.

Another theory is that I suspect Katarina will split into OG!Katarina and Monkey Girl, with neither of them being completely Katarina. This is what I've been thinking since LN12.

I suspect that Monkey Girl's brother has reincarnated and has the same ability as Katarina: being able to identify his loved ones no matter their appearance. And it would be how he would have realized Katarina is the reincarnation of his sister.

I also suspect the downager queen is Uncle Stuart's biological mother and she stole the identity of the queen. She would also be the mysterious woman of the hallway.

While it is not my theory, I also believe that the dark magician who was hired by the Dieke family to kill Raphael's mother is actually Sarah's father. And this is why she and her mother were attacked by people and her mother got killed.

I suspect Laura is related to Marquis Dieke, which means she would actually be part of the Dieke family.

I suspect OG!Katarina didn't come back for revenge in FL2, and she only pretended to work for the villain, maybe because she somehow felt concerned by the villain's plot. In most endings, she has to play villainess and shoulder the crimes of the mastermind and it is only in the true ending that Maria would figure out the truth. Which would enable OG!Katarina to be rehabilated.

And my last crazy theory is that OG!Katarina is the last person Katarina will seduce.

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cloudy-with-a-chance-of-chaos · 3 months

Text

"This is real, this is me" - Demi Lovato, at some point back in the 2000s

TL;DR: Hi, my name is Laura and this is my personal blog. I'm Christian and vocal about it, we can talk about it if you want. I'm Brazilian and bilingual and so is this blog. I talk a lot so my posts will be often lengthy; I'm a librarian and a writer so I'll be posting about things around these themes - info science, organization, book-related, writing, short stories, OCs… I have a lot of interests ranging from Ts4, BG3 to kpop and poetry so expect those too. I'm an insecure artist, looking for a place to call mine, basically. More info bellow the cut.

It's probably the millionth time I try to kick start this blog, but anyway

Hi everyone! My name is Laura and this is my personal blog. Before anything, lemme present myself.

First of all, I'm Christian. I think it's important to clarify this right off the top so we're clear on how this blog goes and how I go. I'm Christian and really value my faith, I'm rather vocal about it, so that's within basically everything I do. I'm also always avaiable to talk about it to curious people or fellow Christians wanting to talk. Hit me up if you feel like it ✨

I do not enjoy this bit but, if things get rather hostile or aggressive, I'm unfollowing/blocking and ask you do the same bc there's no need to keep annoying ourselves. Jesus said to turn the other cheek, not to become a doormat so we'll keep things respectful and friendly as to not get into heated arguments ok? Ok.

With that on the clear, here's other things for you to know me: I'm Brazilian! And living in Brazil (for now). I speak Portuguese as a first language, and English as a second - and do risk myself at Spanish sometimes, and I'm learning Korean, so: this is a bilingual and at times multilingual blog. THOUGH I will be speaking English most of the time. That's what most people speak around here, right, so let's go, bora pra cima Brasil 🥳

⚠️This is a warning⚠️ please be noted that I talk a lot. I know I do. I talk way too much in person and type even more, so please be WARNED that my texts (this bio included!) will more often than not be lengthy. I apologize but also don't. That's it.

Hmmm, what else? Oh Yeah Well

I'm a Librarian! And a writer! I have an insane amount of projects going on now (you can call me a workaholic lol). I'm an enthusiast for Library Sciences and topics related to information, organization, books! Everything Info Science is on my radar, so I'll be probably talking about that or linking my other blog with texts about that. Feel free (and please do) to ask me about those things!

As for the Writer part, I'm a fantasy writer, with about 3 to 4 different sagas going on inside my head and very little written about them 🤡 I'm trying to get better at that as to be able to actually have something to show people rather than loose drafts. I'm also an enthusiast for short stories so I'll be eventually posting drabbles about random themes!

That's actually the whole point of this blog, writing.

Other interests and possible themes to be happening here are related to:

The Sims 4 (hi Simblr ^^); I do play this too often and will be rambling about my Sims OCs;

Baldur's Gate 3 [screams]; I am OBSESSED with this game but only get to play it when I go to my bestie's place, so not that many posts about it BUT I WILL DEFINITELY BE TALKING ABOUT ASTARION. No, I'm not a weirdo Astarion Girlfriend, I'm a normal person;

Cats. I love cats, I have cats, I'm obsessed with cats;

Poetry; I take my chance at those very rarely but I do;

Super Junior and other kpop subjects; 🤩 I'm ELF, yeah, I did write a handful of fanfics about SJ so I'll link them at my catalog, though I don't write those anymore. I do talk about them tho;

Hm, idk, the color blue, art, sea and storms (huge fan of those), random reblogs about aesthetic stuff, photography, museums, wtv. If you can't tell I have major hyperfixes in random things.

I do think of myself as an artist and I've been considering and not doing things like this blog for way too long. This is my try at making it work. I do write and post on other platforms (you can navigate through them on the buttons on the top of my blog - on desktop view - or on the links on my soon to be pinned post) but they don't usually take lengthy (I really like this word) posts like Tumblr can so HERE AM I.

I hope to find my people around here.

This is a very quick shortened bio of mine (believe me), ask me questions if you want to, my askbox 📫 is always open. And please remember: internet is just a slice of someone's life so don't go around making assumptions.

ー L

#hello tumblr #personal blog #writing #writers on tumblr #simblr #artsy #and a lot of other stuff i cannot categorize right now #oh #books #books & libraries #library science #librarian #idk what else #yay !

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lorei-writes · 1 year

Text

Letters: From: Me ; To: You

(And Some of What Happened In-Between)

Clavis Lelouch & OC (OC Chart: Laura) Summary: A letter sent out in desperation, and how -- or whether -- it manages to rescue Laura from an arranged marriage. Word Count Estimate: 1k Other chapters: Masterlist

Content Warnings: animal attack

Leaves hummed above their heads, swayed by a warm summer gale. Dirty with mud and stricken with sweat, Cyran ran his hand down his face, thus smudging the stains left over his features even further. He did not appear to care much, however, or not any more than about the cause behind his concern, Clavis merrily treading a path for them through the mountainous forest.

“Attracting bears… really?” the knight sighed.

“No. Attracting male bears in dire need of mating. That is quite a serious oversight for my most trusted man,” Clavis chuckled quietly, a single (the smallest one of the lot) crease easing out from between Cyran’s brows.

“I am glad you are mindful of keeping your voice down, my lord. Your laughter could cause an avalanche, I swear.”

Clavis held back a snort. He brushed his damp hair away from his face, eyes set on the marks left in the bark. He walked to them slowly, and took off one of his gloves before running his fingers through the uneven welts.

“Ha! Would you look at that, it’s still fresh. Lucky, aren’t we?” he laughed, the crease returning with double the previous depth.

“An avalanche, Prince Clavis.”

Clavis crouched down, a jar nearly falling out of the inner pocket of his cape. He caught it in time, however, his companion growing a few more grey hairs just regardless.

“Now, that’d be delightful, but alas – you could search the entire mountain for snow, and not find even a single flake.” A brush in his hand, he begun to paint the tree with… whatever the translucent solution the jar contained.

“A landslide then,” Cyran sighed.

“Hahaha, now, now, that’d be unfortunate. Do you have the time to complain, though? Unless you want to meet more bears, of course.”

Cyran lifted a brush as well. Why, oh why… Although he had technically chosen this fate for himself.

It was a lovely day; if heavens could design for a weather to be perfect for a wedding, they did it then, and actualised their plan. Despite days of rain, not a cloud hung in the sky, the greenery surrounding the path sparkling in fresh dew suits as if it too was invited to celebrate the soon-to-be-husband-and-wife. Laura curled her fists into the skirt of her gown, her veil shaking whenever carriage wheels rippled any of the puddles ahead of them. She stifled a groan, the singing birds having her head throb. She glanced from her mother to her father, and then back at the floor, not a word leading itself into the web of silence entangling them all. If anything, the harder Laura struggled to come up with a suitable thought, the worse she got stuck, eventually losing all desire to talk.

Laura turned her head towards the window, the steep walls of the gorge staring back at her emptily. They had probably seen many women like myself, she considered, her stomach churning at the thought. The road widened, however, a valley spreading far bellow them seemingly aiming to ease her mind, blinding sunlight reflecting off the surface of the lake nestled within it…

Magpies warbled.

The carriage shook. It came to a halt.

“Dear? Were we supposed to stop now?” her mother asked. Laura turned her face towards them, her father’s uneasy grunt leading her to believe that much was not a part of their journey plan.

“I’ll inquire the coachman —”

Lord Sonne did not have a chance to finish the reply, low guttural growls turning his face pale and twisting his features into a frown. The sound grew in volume, multiplied and shifted as if to encircle them, each animalistic scream a reply to another of its kind. Hailstorm of roars fell over them, and so came a command:

“Fire! Fire! Fire at the bears!”

Laura pulled her veil back, her father pushing the carriage door open.

“Stay back,” he ordered, rushing out at once.

“Mother…?”

Magpies warbled again, distant howling colliding with roars just outside the thin wooden walls, followed shortly by man-made thunderstorm. Laura watched, her mother staring back at her, glass-like sheen having come over her eyes. The woman reached forward, old hands clasping around the much younger ones.

“Sweetheart… If you go now… I will not say a word, no matter what means they employ…” she whispered out, terrified eyes darting towards the coach-box window.

Laura opened her mouth, but her mother shook her head vigorously.

“There is no time. Go, or I may change my mind.”

Laura rose from the seat.

Distant cries chased after her as she rushed down the slick mountainside, raspberry bushes outstretching thorny hands towards the pristine muslin, disregarded berries dyeing the white in splashes of red. Laura threw off the veil, hair falling over her face the moment she ripped out the few pins holding it in place. She stumbled over her feet, continued to tumble through the dirt – and then rose to break into a limping dash The world made itself narrow in her eyes, compressed itself only to two things: the fury of screams and roars behind her back, and the lake, the shimmering promise of safety in Benitoite. There was no “her” for her mind, no pain nor cuts, nor bruises, nor soil on her hands, and most definitely, not a trace of concern for her torn dress.

Laura fell again, her feet catching onto a protruding root. Newly emerged barking crept up her back, and so she turned to look around, hounds closing in on her. Her hand trembled as she pushed it into the front of her corset, panicked fingers searching for a small glass flask. She closed her eyes, dogs lurching forward, and —

The bottle slipped out of her grasp.

Laura coughed.

Her ears rung, but refused to hear. Not that her mind would listen.

Too beaten up to get up, she crawled. Fear robbed her of what vision she had, but she refused to give up for as long as there was even a single sense that could provide her with guidance. She stopped, however, or was made to stop, her weight lifting off the ground. Klara stared at the blue sky above, and found herself mesmerised by the twin suns gazing down at her in turn. She smiled, positively convinced she had just seen violet clouds, and closed her eyes. Surely, she had reached Benitoite.

#letters from me to you #clavis lelouch #ikepri clavis #ikemen prince clavis #ikepri #ikemen prince #ikemen series

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myghanimationspage · 1 year

Photo

Feel free to use just give me (Linda) the credit for the animation if you use elsewhere…thanks

PLEASE dont use my animations to make other animations or banners with it. I work hard on my animations and I dont want people to use them to make other fanarts

#Laura Wright #Carly Spencer #lisa locicero #Olivia Falconeri #Amanda Setton #Brook Lynn Ashton #TJ Ashford #Tajh Bellow #Carly and Olivia #Carliv #Carly and brook lynn #Olivia and brook lynn #olivia and tj #Brook lynn and TJ #general hospital

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gurumog · 2 years

Photo

Dracula A.D. 1972 (1972) Hammer Film Productions Dir. Alan Gibson

Caroline Munro as Laura Bellows

Film publicity still

#dracula a.d. 1972 #caroline munro #hammer horror #film publicity still

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blorbologist · 2 years

Text

One for sorrow - Chapter 29

(“WAIT wait wait!” Laura’s hands splay out.)

(No one waits: everyone preparing and panicking and perhaps pregaming.)

(She continues in a rush: “I’m going to give Pike my Vigilant Blessing, so she’ll have advantage on initiative rolls.”)

(“Good to know,” says Matt.)

Vex’ahlia does not think of trying to hide as Thordak bellows and searches for Vox Machina.

She’s not revealing herself - of course not. But instead of mouthing for Pass Without a Trace, she reaches for Vax’s hand and holds it. With his other one, her twin chugs his Potion of Haste.

A steadying, inevitable breath. Yes, someone would need to do it, Pike implores Sarenrae keep them well.

The glow is a hot comfort, leaching into Vex’s bones, even as Thordak’s eye falls upon them.

“Ah, there you are,” says the malicious sun, the scaled sky, the scent of boiling fat and char and sulfur and ozone.

Yes. Yes, here we are.

(Keep reading on AO3!)

#critical role #critical role fanfiction #cr fanfic #critical role fanfic #perc'ahlia #perchalia #the raven queen #thordak #raishan #cr vex #vex’ahlia #cr vax #vax'ildan #chroma conclave #vex is the raven queen's champion au

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witchkingslayer · 1 year

Text

twice as many stars

a wolfstar one shot tags; light smut, poetry inspired a/n; this is 100% inspired by the poem 'the two-headed calf'. i hope you enjoy <3

The Two-Headed Calf

Tomorrow when the farm boys find this

freak of nature, they will wrap his body

in newspaper and carry him to the museum.

But tonight he is alive and in the north

field with his mother. It is a perfect

summer evening: the moon rising over

the orchard, the wind in the grass. And

as he stares into the sky, there are

twice as many stars as usual.

Laura Gilpin, 1977

Remus reads the muggle poem over again, the weathered paperback book dog-eared and well-loved, moulded to fit the shape of his palm. He’s careful not to flick cigarette ash between the spine, not to let the burning cherry kiss its pages. Beneath the inky sky, the moon new and blurred, he thinks of his friends, the boys who morphed themselves into beasts so the monster, the freak of nature within him, will never have to do it alone. His once sorrowful cries, bellowing some retched sound towards the milky moon now has a chorus. 'You never have to be alone again, Moony,' Sirius had promised him.

Remus is nineteen, and the world believes he ought to be bound, ought to be put down and wrapped in newspaper, but not gently, not to be gawked at but to be lowered into dirt and forgotten. No wildflowers would grow over his crude grave. But Sirius has reminded him, his warm lips like gossamer against the column of his throat, 'You’re a star, too. We’re right beside the moon, right where we belong.'

To Remus, the dark meant solitude, no other light allowed except that glowing celestial body that has become his master. Now, it’s a time to roam, to nip and lap at the black dog’s heels, to let their hands roam beneath the soft sheets in their dorm, to let stars explode between them; not so unlike their namesakes, scattered on their skin in the language of lovers. Sirius drags his tongue over the planes of his bones, not caring that they protrude and are marked with silver and pink scars.

Remus was meant to keep his head down; meant for the cold, hard ground. Crouched as the wolf, downtrodden as a boy. Sirius props him lovingly onto a pedestal, threatening to drag the night sky a little closer to the crown of his head, if he has to. “Men can be monsters, too, you know,” Sirius points out, his tone protective, his fingers kneading Remus’ tired joints with reverence. The Black heir, meant for a life of riches and secrets, of violence and opulence, of prejudice and hate, has chosen courage and only the most wild and rash ideas, coming to fruition before the moon can usher in the morning sun. Sirius has chosen to put out his hand as a sanguine offering. ‘See?’ he cajoles before the wolf, the skinny, precocious boy, letting him sniff his knuckles. ‘You’d never hurt me.’ And Remus tries and chooses to trust, to allow himself to be touched and adored, letting the clever Sirius Black show him that he never needed to be tamed, only loved. No one so young, so broken by others, deserves a cage, and Sirius picked the locks of Remus’ himself, deft, tricky digits prying it apart.

It’s spring, and a war spreads like something sick among them, but for now, Sirius sits at Remus’ side. The Great Lake is as still as a mirror, and of course Sirius is tossing pebbles, if only to see the glassy surface of it ripple. Sirius is gentle and soft with nothing but Remus, not unkindly, but curiously; it’s what Remus loves so much about the black haired boy. Without the moon to upstage them, the stars beam from their places. They are alone, the two boys, their companions tucked away in their beds. They’ve casted the same charms around them, their love private and clandestine, for now, the stars their only audience. Remus has made himself too careful, too guarded, but Sirius deserves to feel coveted, so he throws his caution to the wind and fumbles buttons, tugs at sleeves, revels in the click of buckles unfastening. He lets his gnarled hand reach between their bodies, between Sirius’ legs, and grips him enough so that maybe Sirius will see stars behind his closed eyes. Remus presses his hips into his, their lips like a lock and key, desperate and firm and so soft, Sirius can’t help the deep whimpers that claw from his throat. Sirius’ fingers card through Remus’ ashen hair, drawing him in closer. Sirius digs his fingernails into Remus’ back, anchoring onto him as he chases his release, not unlike two dogs shaking the grass in pursuit of prey. Remus kisses him through his panting, his trembling breath, pulling him back down from the sky. He will find his climax later, in bed, among the softness Sirius deserves.

They are alone, for now, where no one will find them. It may be dark but they have one another. Together, they see twice as many stars as usual.

#wolfstar #sirius black #remus lupin #remus x sirius #sirius x remus #fanfic #one shot

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