#there’s still more it’s not quite ready yet

[koqabear]

For the 2k event I would love to see football player!taehyun x cheerleader! Y/N and idc what the scenario is I would just love to see some spicy smut 🥵🥵 thank you!

[2K Masterlist]

"How not to scare off the stupid flirt that won’t leave you alone."

football player!Taehyun x fem!cheerleader!reader // wc: 5.7K // genre: college au, one-sided enemies to lovers, smut, MDNI.

warnings: i glanced over it does that count as a proof read, slight himbo tyun, (?!) mans a munch, switchy/kinda sub leaning service top! tyun (!!!?), switchy/dom leaning! mc, strength kink, degrading, praise, oral (f. rec.), dry humping, hair pulling, begging, bondage, creampies, overstimulation, lmk if i should add anything!

notes: went just a bit overboard rawr

Taehyun— star player of the football team, a total womanizer and flirt— has taken an interest in you. 

It was only a matter of time before he set his sights on you, wasn’t it? The cute cheerleader who was nothing short of energetic and endearing, waving your pom poms excitedly and sporting a bright smile on your face that never ceased at every game— you were easily the smartest person there, given a full-ride scholarship and spending your weekdays cooped up in the library studying, a complete switch from the preppy persona you put on display for the students and families in the bleachers, never giving anyone the time of day and focusing solely on your studies— in short, you were entirely unattainable.

Which only served to entice Taehyun more.

You never gave in to any of Taehyun’s advances— every wave, greeting, or call of your name was strictly ignored; any attempts to be friendly with you were thrown straight into the gutter by a single glare of yours, and Taehyun found himself lucky on the days you would even look at him willingly. 

Of course, your withering glares and upturned nose as you walked away from every approach would have any sane person tucking their tail and giving up immediately— but Taehyun wasn’t just anyone, and he found that it was quite fun to try and rile you up whenever he saw you— in and out of uniform— and it made his friends wonder if he was simply a masochist. 

“Dude, she looks like she’s ready to blow you up with her mind every time she sees you,” Yeonjun told him once, recounting the way you sneered at Taehyun the moment he tried to interact with you after the game, yet another successful win under their belts, “you mean to tell me you’re into that?”

Taehyun never bothered to deny such accusations; why would he, when he felt himself smile a little wider every time you told him to get lost, or would feel himself eager to chase after you when you would simply turn on your heel and walk the opposite direction whenever you made eye-contact with him? And if he spent nights staying up and thinking about the way your bright smile lit up the stadium and the bow on your head would bounce cutely with each stunt you performed, that was no one else’s business but his own. 

To Taehyun, you were the most refreshing part of every game; to you, Kang Taehyun was a stupid tick you just couldn’t get rid of. 

All charming smiles and smooth flirty lines— you were warned of him by your team, you knew that he was nothing but trouble the moment the rumors of his reputation started swimming around from ear to ear— a cocky D1 athlete that couldn’t stick to a single girl for more than a few days. 

So how is it possible that he’s still bothering you? He’s been after you since the season started, following you around dumbly and trying to get you to cave with even dumber lines you know he’s used on other girls. You never even bothered to bat an eye at him— you’ve never spoken to him past a snide remark telling him to get lost; you’ve shown negative interest in him, but even so, you still catch him staring at you with stars in his eyes. 

“Hey,” Taehyun says, managing to catch you after the home game has ended; still in your full face of makeup, so tired that you haven’t even bothered to change out of your uniform yet— you sneer on instinct, turning on your heel and walking the opposite way you were heading, even if it meant taking the farther exit— but Taehyun simply runs after you, not fazed in the slightest at your behavior, “Great game today, right? You guys were awesome. Your routines were super cool.”

“They’re the same ones we’ve been doing for a while now.” you comment dryly, tugging your duffle bag’s strap over your shoulder more; Oh, you can hear Taehyun mumble softly— you wonder if this is the moment he decides it's no longer worth it to pursue you. But again— things are never that simple for you. 

“Still, I just never get tired of watching you.”

You falter; Taehyun senses it, just like you sense his searing gaze on your face. 

“You’re not supposed to be watching me,” is all you’re able to say, albeit softly, a lot weaker than your usual dismissive tone.

“I know,” Taehyun hums softly, tilting his head as he continues to watch you, analyzing your expression acutely, “it’s just hard not to.”

Alright, you find yourself thinking, coming to a complete halt the moment you feel your heart fluttering hopelessly, this has to stop.

“Wow. Smooth,” you say apathetically, pursing your lips in distaste and observing the man before you— his relaxed, cocky demeanor, the lazy smile that pulls at his lips, his head that tilts curiously, grown out hair covering his eyes and hiding what he might be thinking— and you scoff, voice dripping with distaste as you continue, “how many girls has that line worked on already?” 

“None. One, maybe,” Taehyun quickly says, taking a step closer to you, until you’re able to smell him, the natural musk mixed with the fading scent of his cologne, “if she decides to give me a chance.” 

Your lips press together, your face unimpressed; he raises a brow at you, as though asking for an answer— swiftly, you roll your eyes and ignore his silent queues. 

“Not happening.” you’re turning around again, your pace must faster now, “go bother someone else who’s willing to be part of your roster.”

“I don’t want someone else,” Taehyun groans, jogging after you and placing himself in front of you, just so you’ll actually give him the time of day, “I just want you.”

“Oh really?” you laugh mockingly, entirely unconvinced by this act he seems to be putting up, “So if I fuck you, will you finally stop throwing a tantrum over something you can’t have?” 

He’s stunned; with hands on your hips, you step closer to him, getting up in his face as you continue to taunt him. 

“Are you gonna get bored and dump me after? Hmm?” you scoff, crossing your arms over your chest and taking a step back— Taehyun remains bewildered. “You’re probably not even worth it, actually.”

Just like he did earlier, you raise a brow; mocking him, waiting for him to respond as you tap your foot impatiently— instead, he remains silent, eyes scanning your face, as though waiting for you to say something else— you roll your eyes and shake your head, more than ready to push past him and finally go shower in the comfort of your own apartment. 

Your shoulder almost pushes against Taehyun’s body as you go to leave— but you’re stopped in your tracks before you can get the last say, a strong grip on your bicep keeping you still and turning your body around roughly— your duffle bag swings and the strap falls down your arm at the action.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” Taehyun says, leering down at you with dark eyes— he’s irritated, teeth gritted and brows knitted together as he speaks.

“Awh, is your ego wounded now?” you ask, pouting and batting your eyes at him, feeling his fingers dig into your skin as a result, “does it hurt your big macho pride to get rejected?”

Taehyun doesn’t say anything to that— his eyes seem to do the talking for him, narrowed dangerously at you, but even so, you still don’t care to take the hint. 

“Or— don’t tell me,” you make a point to lower your voice to a whisper, looking around skeptically for anyone else that could hear— but, the stadium was empty at this point, “did I hit too close to home? Oh no, are you that bad of a fuck?”

Taehyun’s jaw is clenched; he takes one look at your pouting, pitied face, at his fingertips that dig into the muscle of your bicep, and inhales slowly— and with one last glance around the area, he turns away and begins to roughly tug you along. 

“Woah— hey– hey, what the fuck do you think you’re doing—?!” 

You’re yelling and bitching at him, slapping at his shoulder and calling him names he could never come up with himself— and yet, you stumble along, refusing to take your arm out of his loosening grip— your actions speak louder than your (abrasive yet creative, Taehyun will admit) words; you’re curious, and Taehyun can already picture the look on your face the moment he finally brings the two of you into the empty locker room he previously raced out of just to look for you.

“What the hell man?” you yell, allowing yourself to be tugged further into the room, straight to a secluded corner that you immediately get backed up in; his hands are on your shoulders as he presses you firmly against the metal lockers, your back arching to get away from the uncomfortable feeling— he’s got you caged in with his body, unable to do anything more than press your hands against his chest in an attempt to keep your distance. You reluctantly take note of how firm his muscles feel. 

“What’s your deal?” you roll your eyes, noticing that he has yet to explain himself, resorting to glaring down at you with his stupid, big brown eyes, “Is this all you can do? Don’t know how to use your big boy words so you resort to force instead?”

“I should be asking you the same thing,” he suddenly says, his voice quiet and restrained as he eyes you carefully; your eyes widen, as though you weren’t actually expecting him to say anything, “all that talk for someone that doesn’t wanna be here.”

Your body heats up instantly at his words; you feel like a fish out of water with the way your mouth opens and closes, trying to find your rebuttal yet faltering under the heat of his gaze— he looks pissed, as though he’ll pounce on you the moment you say something wrong. 

“I don’t,” you finally say, the words not as confident as you wish they were, “you were the one that dragged me here.”

“Really?” he asks, raising a brow at the way you scoff and glare at him, standing your ground even if you both know you’re lying; his hands fall from your shoulders and he takes a step back, watching as you simply remain there, shocked. 

“Then leave.”

The look on his face is much too smug for your liking. He crosses his arms and smirks, taking another step back and nodding to the other side of the room, telling you that “the exit’s over there.”

You take a step forward, only to hesitate. Your eyes narrow at the sight of him, deep in thought before you finally kiss your teeth in distaste.

“God, you’re so fucking insufferable.”

Taehyun doesn’t get a chance to say anything to that because you’re all but leaping onto him after— you’re taking hastes steps to him and your hand reaches out for his nape, digging into his hair before pulling him in towards you for a kiss; to say he was expecting this would be a lie, but he’s more than prepared to melt into you anyway.

You’re nothing like the sweet and innocent persona you put up for the stadium; you’re insatiable, kissing Taehyun like you were starving, a hand reaching up to place itself on his chest, the feeling welcomed until he realizes something— you’re pushing him back, and before he knows it, he’s the one slamming back into the lockers.

His hand falls onto your hip, the other coming up to cup your jaw; his fingers wander endlessly, going from the pleats of your skirt to the elastic waistband, sly fingertips sneaking beneath before he’s pulling away and reaching down to cup your ass— he’s groaning into your mouth at the feeling, your teeth sinking in retaliation to him groping you like a bitch in heat. 

Taehyun’s mind is racing a million miles a minute; he never actually thought he’d get here, but now that he did, he’s found himself to be feeling ridiculously antsy— he wants to feel you, take his time to memorize every detail of you, but he also wants to perform ever fantasy he’s ever had about you, bad. 

And if he thinks he’s good at masking his desperation from you, he’s wrong. Very, very wrong. You could feel it from the way he kissed you back to the way his dick hardened in what you think is record time, his motions growing hasty as he couldn’t stop feeling you up, as though he’d die if he didn’t go from venturing up your shirt to grabbing at your ass, going back and forth and fucking up your balance completely— at this point, Taehyun was only left against the lockers because you were full on leaning on him.

When you pull away from the kiss, lips swollen and entirely out of breath, Taehyun chases after you; his eyes are low lidded and dazed as he looks at you, confused on why you look at him as though you’ll start laughing any second now. 

“Where’s that smooth guy from earlier?” you taunt, punctuating your words by pressing yourself firmly against him, listening to the quiet hiss you get in return, “you almost made me think that your reputation was actually true.”

God, he’s so predictable. You can barely hold back the smile that tugs at your lips, watching Taehyun’s reaction intently; it was like a light finally turned on in his head, glassed over eyes finally becoming conscious as he blinks at you, words registering in his head and grip slowly become harsher; his hand falls from your face and down to the small of your back, pulling you close and raising a confused brow at you. 

“What reputation?” he asks, the faux innocence making you roll your eyes.

“Oh y’know, just some girls saying shit. That you fuck the living daylights out of them, or whatever,” your hand that was braced against his chest trails up, fingertips going to the underside of his chin to flick his head up playfully— his eyes are pinned on you the entire time, and you giggle mockingly. “But all I see here is a horny teen that gets hard over a little bit of kissing.”

You’re baiting him— it’s so obvious and you both know it, but that doesn’t stop Taehyun from biting the said bait shamelessly, dark eyes glaring daggers at you challengingly as stares you down.

It all happens too quickly for you to process; your positions are being flipped around yet again and your back is slamming into the lockers, letting out a small yelp at the feeling— but it’s all washed out by the sight of Taehyun falling to his knees, pushing your legs open before he’s settling himself between them comfortably— his eyes sparkle under the lights as he looks up at you, the crude contrasting bringing a wave of heat throughout your body. 

“You have no idea how long I wanted to do this,” Taehyun rasps, grabbing your leg before he’s lifting it up, feeling your hand on his shoulder at the unexpected action; he merely chuckles, placing slow, wet kisses from your inner knee before he begins to trail in— once he’s at your inner thighs, he slings your leg over his shoulder leisurely, sucking and biting at the skin before mumbling against it, “fucking dreamed about this.”

His words are pathetically effective— your panties feel uncomfortably stuck to your cunt, and the anticipation of feeling Taehyun’s mouth there definitely isn’t helping.

“Bullshit,” you grit, your free hand reaching down to lace into his hair; your nails scratch along his scalp and pull at his roots, and Taehyun shivers at the feeling, “god, do your other hookups like it when you say this shit?”

Beneath your skirt, he shakes his head, fingertips digging into your thighs at the thought. You’re trying to provoke him, it’s obvious, yet Taehyun can’t help but get irritated at the fact that you seem to be focusing on everything but him. “You’re the only one I’ve ever talked to like this,” he says, pulling out from under your skirt to bring your panties down, dragging them slowly until they’re finally off— you note with wide eyes that he immediately pockets them. “I’m usually not much of a talker.”

“But if you hate it that much, I can be quiet,” he murmurs, beginning to go back to your cunt again, bunching your skirt at your hips so you can get a good view of him— his doe eyes flicker up at you, and you swear he must know what that does to you as he continues. “I can be whatever you want me to be.”

The dry laugh you let out comes out shaky and breathy; his affect on you is so obvious, yet you still seem to want to hide it all under this persona of yours, digging your heel in his back and tilting your hips closer to his face— he oggles at how visibly wet you are, a soft hiss leaving his lips as you pull at his hair, not giving him a chance to react before you’re pushing him in to where you need him the most. 

If you’re finally gonna give in to this stupid student athlete, it’s going to be on your terms. At least that’s what you tell yourself, a shaky moan escaping you and your grip tightening on Taehyun’s hair— he really doesn’t want to waste any time, you note.

His mouth feels like heaven; he’s quick to lick a stripe across your cunt, tongue digging at your needy hole before he comes up to your clit, licking at it teasingly until he finally hears you whine. His lips are soft and plump as he places messy kisses at your clit, his hands digging into your thighs in an attempt to stop you from shifting around so much— if anything, his bruising grip only serves to rip out another moan from you.

“S-shit, Taehyun— just like that, ah,” your moans are just as pretty as you— Taehyun feels like he’s in a daze as he presses closer against you, sucking your clit harshly and listening to the sweet whine you let out— he can feel his cock twitching pathetically in his pants, hips bucking at the air as his mouth moves down to your entrance. 

“Fuck!” your eyes screw shut as you feel Taehyun’s tongue enter you, the tip of his nose pressing against your clit as he nuzzles into your cunt, as though he could get further inside your pussy. The sighs and grunts he lets out aren’t lost on your ears either, cunt clenching desperately against him as you begin to wriggle out of his grip without realizing. 

“Mmmh, pretty face was meant to get fucked,” you groan out, the words slipping out of you without control. Your hips rock and grind against him, dazed eyes watching as his hold on you loosens and his tongue lolls out; watery eyes flicker back up to look at you, glowing from your compliment. 

Taehyun thinks that he could die happily like this. Your cunt is so sweet, so wet, the glide of it against his face enough to have him throbbing painfully in his pants. His jaw aches and it’s getting hard for him to breathe, but even then he refuses to stop— the sight of you is like a dream come true for him to pull away now. 

You’re so close— it’s evident by the way your hips start bucking against his face harshly, nails digging into his scalp as you push him closer, impossibly close— your mouth is left open, soft moans turning into curses as your leg tries to hook him in further, pressing against the firm muscles of his back— Taehyun’s eyes flutter shut, and before he can really second guess himself, he pulls away. 

The wet sound of his mouth leaving your dripping cunt should have you curling away and cringing in embarrassment. Instead, the only thing you can muster is a cry of his name, the sound venomous and disappointed as you glare down at the boy. 

“Sorry,” he says, voice broken and raspy, a panting and blushing mess, “I just— fuck, I need you.”

You’re left speechless at his desperation— but Taehyun doesn’t seem to mind, getting back up to his feet before he’s grabbing at your waist and leaning in to kiss you; you can feel how hard he is against you, and it allows you to snap into your senses as you go up to place your hands against his chest once more; pulling away, you push against him in order to get him to walk— he obeys immediately.

“Geez, you give a guy a chance and he starts acting like a little virgin,” you sneer, noting with a flip of your stomach that Taehyun only grins, unaffected by your jab. You’ve led him to the edge of the bench set in the middle of this small area, pressing down on his shoulders and getting him to sit down; he watches with stars in his eyes as you straddle his lap, sitting your dripping cunt over his bulge firmly. “Am I gonna have to put in all the work here?”

“I mean,” Taehyun trails off, his hands finding purchase on your ass and beginning to guide you to rock against him; his teeth sink into his lip and his eyes darken as he takes in the sight, drawing a gasp out of you as he bucks his hips up. Looking back up at you, his face is happy and sweet. “You really don’t have to. But it’s kinda hot to get bossed around by you though— just thought you were more into that.”

Your jaw ticks. Without warning, you push him down against the bench, hovering over him and placing your hands on his waistband as you begin to undo his jeans.

“Quite a weird way to try and play off that you’re my bitch,” you grit out, tugging at his boxers and watching his cock spring out— he groans, hips bucking up at the feeling, his tip a pretty pink that throbs and leaks pathetically.

Taehyun laughs softly, watching with awe as you spit in your palm and slowly begin to stroke him; his head falls back and his eyes screw shut, noting with coy satisfaction that your hand doesn’t fully wrap around him. 

“Yeah, I’m your bitch,” he sighs out, his hands flying to your waist and getting him to sit on his thighs, “fuck, you’re too good at this.”

God, he’s so stupid; giving in to all your taunts without much of a fight, sucked in entirely by the feeling of your hand that pumps his length so slowly, tightening your hold on him and twisting, squeezing his tip teasingly— his hands reach up to cover his face before he can stop himself, pretty hands obscuring his heated face and parted lips that let out soft sighs of pleasure. 

“Don’t hide from me now,” you say, reaching up to pry his hands away, his eyes fluttering open before locking with yours, “you look so good like this.”

His eyes widen, the tips of his ears reddening with a cute blush; your praise is so unfamiliar, yet it renders him weak and needy for more, reaching out to grab your waist to scoot you up more— your cunt is touching his length by the time you scold him to stop, though he doesn’t seem to care much for your orders as he begins to fuck his hips against you.

“C’mon, just fuck me already,” he groans, your eyes as big as saucers as he continues to whine and beg. “Aren’t you supposed to like, use me and stuff?” 

This… is not what you were expecting from him. 

You’re sure the words are written across your face too, the incredulous look you give him making him shrink slightly, as though he was just now realizing what he was saying. 

But before he can backtrack and say something monumentally stupid to cancel it out, you grin, hovering over his lap and grabbing at his cock, lining it up with your entrance and taking in the way he visibly shudders. 

“You sound so cute when you’re begging,” you say, running his tip along your slit, allowing it to collect your growing arousal, the sound loud to both of you, “y’know, I would’ve given you a chance much earlier if you acted all nice and cute like this from the start.

“That player persona of yours wasn’t really my thing.”

The head of his cock finally breaches your entrance; Taehyun moans at the feeling of you finally sinking on him, able to feel the way he stretches you out the further you take him in, wet and warm walls fluttering with each gentle push. 

“Mmh,” your brows are furrowing at the feeling, not expecting him to be so damn thick— but you took him in regardless, putting on an apathetic front even if you were on the verge of melting on top of him— you can feel him twitch inside you, a weak whimper escaping you as his hands dig into your thighs, digging into the flesh cruelly once he finally bottoms out. 

“God, you’re fucking perfect,” Taehyun breathes out, hissing through his teeth once you finally start moving; your hips are methodical, your movements cruelly calculated as you rise slowly, leaving him waiting for a second before you slam back down— his legs jump, your body bouncing from the motion. 

You can’t help but laugh at the sight of him; he’s the definition of fucked out, sweat that beaded at his hairline causing strands of hair to stick to his skin, chest heaving and teeth digging into his lips with every bounce on his cock— when you start to set a pace, you note with annoyance that Taehyun just can’t stop trying to take over, his hands traveling to your waist to try and guide you, his hips fucking up to meet your pace. It’s endearing, for a moment, but then you find that he begins to get too handsy, his hands now lost underneath your shirt and trailing over your breasts curiously.

“Okay now, don’t get too ahead of yourself,” you chide condescendingly, stopping your pace and sinking onto him, your weight fully on him as you swat his hands off. Taehyun begins to protest immediately, groaning about how mean and unfair you’re being. His hands attempt to go back to your waist, but you slap them off again, giving him a glare that makes him pout at you. 

Thoughts on how to get him to listen to you course through your mind, unsure of what to do until one hits you like a freight train. 

Taehyun watches in confusion as you reach for your hair, unsure of what to make of the sly smile on your face— it’s only once he sees the pretty bow unravel from your head that his eyes widen in understanding. 

“Oh no,” he mutters, your smile only growing wider as you reach for his hands— he retaliates, bringing his wrists together and just outside your reach, “oh hell no, c’mon!”

“Give me your hands,” you huff, lips pressing together in annoyance as he shakes his head and puts them over his head instead, just out of your reach, “give me your hands or I walk out right now.”

Taehyun knows how you are. You’re completely serious about that. 

“C’monnnn,” he groans, reluctantly offering his hands out for you to take. He watches with a petulant look as you wrap the ribbon around his wrists, tying them together so quickly he’s barely able to process what you’re doing, “please, I just wanna touch you.”

You ignore him, adding the final touch with careful hands; the bow on his wrists is just as pretty as the proud smile on your face, he notes bitterly. 

“Perfect,” you murmur to yourself, pushing his bound hands against his chest, holding onto them for leverage as you begin to move again; you can practically see all the thoughts leave his mind as he feels you around him, sucking him in and clenching with each prod against your sweet spot, hips angling so you’re hitting it perfectly. 

With a cruel curiosity, you shift on top of him, a hand holding his wrists down while the other drags his shirt up— though expected, you can’t help but whistle at the sight, running a hand over his abs, watching eagerly as he flinches from the contact. Without much of a thought, you bend down to place a kiss on his stomach, laughing at the soft whine you get in return. Sitting back up, you go back to the pace you set before, satisfied by the flustered man you see beneath you. 

Your nails are digging into his wrists; the orgasm he took from you is quickly building back up, your lips swollen and shining from how bitten they are— your cunt gushes around him, a ring beginning to form at the base of his length; Taehyun’s eyes roll back at the sight. 

The pretty moans you’re letting out and the tight grip your pussy has on him is making it impossible for him to last— he’s only a bit behind you as you feel your knees begin to become weak, your pace inconsistent as you grind on him in search of more.

“M’close… fuck…” you breathe out, hovering over Taehyun and caging him in— the roles have been reversed now, your elbows on each side of his head holding you up as you press yourself against him, your pace agonizingly slow as you lean down to kiss him— it’s sloppy and neither of you are entirely in your right minds, pathetically moaning into each other’s mouths the closer to your peak you get.

It’s nice to feel the heat of your body against his, but what you’re doing now simply isn’t enough for Taehyun. And though he knows you strictly forbade him, he can’t help himself from reaching down to grab your side, startling you and forcing you to sit up in confusion. 

“Sorry, I just— I’m so close, I need more,” he says, fingers digging into your side and thighs flexing beneath you— his brows furrow in concentration and next thing you know, he’s fucking up into you. 

The yelp you let out only makes Taehyun’s cock twitch inside you— you sound so good like this, overwhelmed and ruined, unable to stop or control the way he bucks his hips up into you, his hands on your side forcing you to come down on him with every thrust— you’re falling forward and pressing down on his chest in an attempt to not lay on him entirely, and Taehyun thinks that he might’ve just gotten the sight of you bouncing on top of him ingrained into his mind now.

“Oh fuck, you keep fucking squeezing me— are you close? Yeah? I am too,” he moans, watching as you hang your head and dig your nails into his skin— you’re both soooo close, Taehyun can feel it— and before he can second guess himself, words spill from his mouth in a desperate haste. 

“Can I cum inside you?” he asks, your eyes snapping open at the question— they meet his stupid, shiny round eyes, turned completely glassy as he tilts his head, his pace never ceasing for a second. “Can I, can I please? You’re so pretty, feel so good, c’mon, just wanna fill you up like you deserve—”

“Shit, yeah,” you whine, not needing much convincing in the first place to agree. “Fill me up, c’mon tyunnie, wanna be full—!”

The sound of the cute nickname coming from you sets Taehyun off instantly; his cock bottoms out and his hand slams your body down, your faint gasp barely registering in his mind as he finally cums— and it’s so much, spurts and spurts of warm cum filling you up and setting you off seconds after. 

When Taehyun feels your cunt fluttering around him, he helps you ride it out; even if it means his eyes get watery and his cock hurts with every thrust into you. He still does it, the overstimulation a small price to pay for being able to watch you fall apart on top of him, moaning out his name so nicely that he never wants it to be said by anyone that’s not you from now on. 

You’re an out of breath, sweaty mess by the time you finally come to your senses— well, kind of. You’d still rather not accept that womanizing student athlete Taehyun finally succeeded in getting in your pants. Maybe now he’ll finally leave you alone; you try to ignore the disappointed pang you get in your stomach from the thought. 

Beneath you, Taehyun simply pants, eyes closed in a sweet bliss; when they open back up, he looks at you with such fondness you can’t help but startle. 

“Can I take you out on a date?”

Your eyes widen, and you try to pretend as though the question doesn��t immediately lift up your mood. (Though the way your lips quirk up in an amused smile is definitely a giveaway.)

“You ask this now?” you say, crossing your arms and letting out a soft tsk, “I feel like it’s supposed to go the other way around.”

Taehyun smiles, and you can’t resist the contagious sight.

“I know. Sorry for being so irresistible.”

Your smile drops.

“Just for that, I’m saying no.”

“Waitwaitwait—” You make a move to get off Taehyun, but are stopped immediately with his hands on your side, forcing you to stay put the best you can— he tugs you back into him, cradling your face and ignoring your protests to let go.

“I lied, I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry,” he coos, smiling at the way you continue to glare at him; so cute, he thinks, unable to stop himself from craning his neck up and placing a peck on your lips— you melt instantly, giggling softly and placing a peck of your own on the tip of his nose.

“I’ll see you after practice then.”

#txt fanfic #txt fanfiction #txt imagines #txt oneshots #txt ff #txt x reader #txt smut #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #taehyun smut #taehyun ff #taehyun imagines #taehyun oneshot #taehyun x reader #taehyun fanfic #taehyun fanfiction #[2K event!] #[the mic is yours] #[nsfw]

[azzibuckets]

now that we don’t talk [paige bueckers]

paige bueckers x fem!reader

summary: you and paige break up and neither of you know how to move on properly with your life

a/n: decided to go for some angst again…didn’t really have an aim or a direction when writing this so not sure if i should turn this into a series or not ? lmk what yall think

word count: 1.5k

masterlist

The First Week

In the first week, Paige had fallen into her daily routine. Her moments of forgetfulness were instinctual; she’d laid a dollop of minty Crest toothpaste on her blue toothbrush before doing the same thing to your red one, leaving it hanging over the edge of the counter.

The first time she did it, she’d hadn’t even noticed. It was only when she’d turned her mouth to catch the water under the faucet that she’d spotted your toothbrush that she’d set up, ready with Crest, as if you’d pop in any moment to stick it in your mouth and start scrubbing. Paige had almost choked on the water she’d been gurgling, grief worming its way up her throat and making it hard to breathe.

Heaving, she’d stood over the sink, hand gripping both sides of the counter to support herself until her knuckles turned white. It took all her strength not to buckle over from the precipitous wave of agony that had collided into her with gut-wrenching speed.

But for some reason, Paige had stuck your toothbrush under the stream of water then placed it carefully back in its cup. And so she’d made the same mistake the day after. This time, when she realized what she’d done, it wasn’t the weight of sadness that compressed her lungs, but a brewing storm of fury. Her vision had gone red, and she’d grabbed the toothbrush and hurled it against the wall as hard as she could, with a strength that she didn’t even know that she’d still had. And this time, when Paige stared at the toothpaste dripping slowly down the wall, mocking her as it made a mess on the floor, the counter couldn’t save her. She’d succumbed to the force of her fury dragging her down, and had crumpled to the floor, sobs racking her body.

The First Month

Your room was dark, in almost sub-freezing temperatures with the windows wide open to welcome in the frosty, bone-chilling winter air that Connecticut was known for. The only light in the room came from the dim glow of your laptop screen, opened live to the UConn women’s basketball game playing live on ESPN.

At first, you’d attempted to be nonchalant whenever Paige sunk yet another basket with ease, making the crowd and commentators going feral as she celebrated with her signature moves. But as the game between UConn and USC got closer and closer, you couldn’t help but smile when Paige crossed over her defense, sending them flying to the floor and leaving her wide open to score yet another 3. It reminded you all too well of the Paige you’d met and fallen in love with, whose confidence on the court had made you start viewing her as more than just your teammate.

But any trace of smile on your face quickly vanished once you watched Paige’s post-game interview during the livestream. “You’ve had quite a run this season despite being out for most of your sophomore and junior year due to injury. Who would you like to thank for your unpredented comeback?”

“I’d like to thank God. He’s been with me through everything, given me trials to test my resilience. In fact, he’s made me stronger than ever.” Paige had paused. You’d recognized her hesitance; the way she nibbled her bottom lip, her mouth half open as she debated a response, the uncertainty in her eyes as they flickered. But she seemed to recover from any reluctance, and what she said next made your heart drop. “I’d also like to thank my girlfriend, Leslie.” She motioned to someone off camera, and soon the frame was filled with tousled brown hair and soft green eyes.

Paige pulled her in close, and your world spun as you watched Paige, your Paige, press her lips against the brunette. Your hands had reached up to tear your headphones off your head, unable to further listen to the claps and hoots of the crowd along with the cooing of the commentators without feeling the need to throw up. But before you could, Paige had started speaking again. Your hands froze. You hated yourself for it, but you had to listen.

“She’s been with me through everything, from freshman year to now. She was my number one supporter when I got injured.” She wrapped her arm around Leslie’s waist, staring intently at the camera, and never before had you been this sickened staring at the blue eyes you’d once adored, could’ve spent hours getting lost in. “But even outside of my injury, Les has been on my side. Especially with all the immature drama that happened on the court last year, she was really a clear voice in all of that. So I’m pretty grateful for her.”

Leslie’s mouth split into a grin, and she turned to pull Paige in for another kiss, and that was when you slammed your laptop so hard that when you opened it the next morning, you were surprised to see that the screen hadn’t shattered.

You were not someone who cried. Your family members, your friends, Paige could all attest to that. But the torment that was clawing its way through your body, threatening to suffocate you, finally exploded. Tears had surged from your eyes, seemingly never ending, and you’d cried so much that night that it suddenly made sense why you’d almost never cried before; it was like all the tears in your life had been pent up, waiting for this moment, for when the pin fell.

That night was the lowest you’d ever felt in your life, and possibly even the lowest you’ve ever acted - blinded by a jealous rage over the girl that Paige had always promised you not to worry about, the girl Paige was basically making out with on live television just one month after you guys had broken up (and when it’d taken her two years to show PDA with you), you’d gone on all your social media accounts and blocked Paige on every single one of them.

Then an idea came to you. An act of retaliation that would hurt Paige as much as she hurt you. So you’d reopened Twitter, unblocked Paige. You’d scrolled until you found the perfect tweet. Your thumb had hovered for a split second over the like button, haunted by images of Paige’s hand trailing your stomach, her hair brushing your eyes, her mouth on your neck, before it was violently replaced by the image of Paige locking lips with the brunette flooding your mind, causing you to jam your thumb down with ferocity on the like button. You’d slammed the final nail in the coffin by deleting the app so that you couldn’t go back and undo your action before word got around to Paige.

The First Year

You thought you knew grief. You thought you’d familiarized yourself with every aspect of mourning: the realization in the morning, when your eyes open and you lose the blissful state of dreaming and you’re confronted with the harsh truths of the world. Or the late nights, when you’re restless and can’t sleep because of jealousy plaguing your mind. Even the deep longing of missing someone’s touch so bad that you swear that you can almost almost smell their perfume.

So you thought you knew grief - until your grandma died. It had been a matter of time. She’d had breast cancer, and for years now the doctors had been saying any time. But that still didn’t prepare you for the overwhelming pain that consumed all your senses, making it hard to think or eat or sleep or even breathe.

The first few nights after you received the news, you stared at the ceiling, unblinking until the early hours of the morning when the sun started creeping up through your windows. But you couldn’t even cry; you felt like a broken faucet. What the fuck was wrong with you? Sobbing over your stupid ex that you’d broken up with an entire year ago, but unable to shed a tear for your grandma, the woman who had single-handedly raised you. You were exhausted to the point of no return. When would everything stop hurting?

You’d only torn your eyes from your ceiling when your phone had lit up. It was 4 AM, and you wondered who it could be. You checked your phone, and every part of your body froze when you read the notifications.

TWITTER

From: paigebueckers1

I’m so sorry

TWITTER

From: paigebueckers1

I just heard the news

TWITTER

From: paigebueckers1

Don’t know if you’re even active on here anymore but it’s the only way I could reach you. If you see this, I just want to ask you to not keep your grief to yourself. Isolating yourself won’t make the pain go away. Make sure to talk to someone

Your heart had ached, your phone trembling in your hand. Because Paige had cared enough to send you a message, on the same app where you’d given the tabloids a wet dream and caused the UConn fandom to go into a spiral by liking a hate tweet about Paige. She’d cared enough to disregard all that to make sure you were okay. But she still hadn’t cared enough to offer to be that someone that she wanted you to talk to so bad.

So you’d left her on read, without responding. Had slipped back into your sheets, your head pounding and your lungs aching. This time the tears fell out easily.

#paige bueckers #uconnwbb #wbb #wcbb #paige bueckers x you #angst

[koolades-world]

Hii!! I was wondering if I could get headcanons for an mc that was really attached to the brothers? Like they’re often around them and don’t really give a reason why. It’s only later that they tell the brothers that they’re less frightened when with them. I can only imagine how absolutely terrifying the devildom must be to first timers. Sorry if this was too wordy lol.

hello there :) of course. no worries, not too wordy!!

enjoy <3

Mc who's attached to the brothers

Lucifer

he finds it a little odd that you picked him of all people

hope you're ready to be put to work! of course nothing too serious but you'll for sure be helping carry around papers and stuff like that

in a way, you remind him of his brothers, the loving, cute side of them, not the little gremlin side haha

however when you tell him it's because you are just more comfortable around him, he gives you a gentle smile and hug. you find after this he's sweeter in subtle ways <3

Mammon

of course you want to follow the great mammon around! who wouldn't?

he's a little insecure at first, like you might be reporting back to lucifer with what you see and hear, but you reassure him there's no real reason

he really enjoys getting to spend so much time with you and is glad you're willing to be his friend

he has no clue how to react upon learning the real reason behind why you're always with him, so at first he reacts as he usually would, but once he processes it, he sheepishly will tell you thank you for entrusting him with such an honor

Levi

why would you want to spend so much time with a yucky otaku like him?

as you grow closer, he really begins to enjoy your presence and having a buddy to always chat with about the things he's interested in and won't leave him mid-conversation

you help him grow more optimistic and confident in himself

he initially questions why you'd pick him of all demons to feel most comfortable around, but once he realizes it's because of the bond you formed, he's still shy but is ready to accept this fact. anywhere you go, he'll follow

Satan

he doesn't stop you but he always wonders why you've selected him, the avatar of wrath, to act as your devildom buddy?

at first, he juts chalks it up to wanting to hide behind his rage and get help with rad work, but soon you start to form a closer bond

it's then when you confess that you just feel safer and more comfortable around him. part of his hunch was correct, but what you described was on a much closer, more personal reason

now, he always waits for you and helps you out where he can because now he knows you like him for him, not what others see him as. others say he really softened up after that day

Asmo

his bed is always open if you want to crawl in with him and will gladly be your beautiful knight in shining armor haha

he's used to having fans, but you're much more than that to him

he really doesn't mind and finds it nice to always have someone around

when you tell him the real reason why, he's going to squeal so loud the demon lord hears and hug you incredibly tightly. maybe he's tearing up a little, but you're literally inseparable now. after that beautiful emotional display you're joined at the hip

Beel

he really quite likes that you like to be around him. early on, it's actually quite a comfort because belphie wasn't around and he was quick to reciprocate the closeness

the two of you always seek each other out, and you quickly fall into a routine

soon, you tell him he makes the devildom more welcoming and make you feel more at home, and he's over the moon

even more so than before, he really looks out for you and treats you as a member of the family even if the others haven't gotten to that level yet. to him, you belong at the hol and in the devildom, with him

Belphie

every time he woke up from a nap, he'd find you next to him. he thought it was a little odd but he wasn't going to stop you

he honestly thought you'd never want to see him again, but you always seem to be by his side

odd was the only word he could find to describe you and the bon you'd formed. he never pressed you for why since he didn't feel like he deserved to know

he's overjoyed that he's your safe place. he never thought you'd seek comfort in him, but he's ready to welcome you with open arms. he's ready to join you on every step of your journey where ever you go, and he'll keep you safe since he feels as if he failed you before

#obey me! #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me lucifer #obey me #obey me x reader #obey me beel #obey me levi #obey me mammon #obey me belphie #omswd #obey me shall we date #obey me! shall we date #obey me! shall we date? #obey me leviathan #obey me asmodeus #obey me belphegor #obey me beelzebub

[jinwoosungs]

{ 020 }

- when you catch them falling asleep first -

featuring: gojo satoru, nanami kento, fushiguro megumi, okkotsu yuta

warnings: crack for gojo's, but mainly fluff for the rest :3

[ gojo satoru 🕶️ ]

don't let gojo's pretty face and seemingly perfect life fool you: this man has a sole imperfection that takes the form of his MONSTROUS snores. and you swore that these snores are loud enough to cause tremors to be felt across your shared apartment!

you came home from work a little later than usual, murmuring your greeting all while taking off your shoes in the process. as you brushed back your hair while running a hand through them, you were left frozen on your spot when you heard an almost... unnatural sound coming from within the depths of your apartment.

"h-hello? satoru? are you there?"

fear began to quickly seize at your heart, with you straining your ears as you tried to decipher the strange and almost guttural sounds. it was almost like... someone sawing a log while growling at the same time, coupled along with some other wet sounds that made you tremble in response.

grabbing a hold of one of your umbrellas settled near your shoe rack, you slowly inch closer to the source of the sound, hoping that the umbrella would be sufficient enough to use as a weapon.

you could feel the ice cold sensation of your blood rushing through your veins, filling you with anxiety and fear at what was to come. the closer to got to your bedroom, the louder those sounds became.

with your eyes clenched shut, you slam open the door while crying out "YOU STUPID CURSE...!"

only to feel your words die out the moment you turned on the lights to see your boyfriend splayed out in bed, his hair a complete mess against the plush pillows while a string of drool was seen on the corner of his lips.

yet perhaps what was most shocking was how those noises were coming from him!

now, you've been subjected to satoru's obnoxious snores before, but they had never quite sounded this... horrendous. which meant that the sorcerer was probably caught in a deep slumber right now.

allowing the relief to course through you, you toss aside your umbrella and step closer to the bed. your arms were crossed over your chest as you look down at him, reaching out a hand to pinch at his nose.

"nngh nggh ngh?!" you had to fight back a giggle upon seeing your boyfriend's eyes clenched shut in response. his arms were flailing around randomly until they suddenly managed to find you, pulling you down into bed with him as a cheshire cat grin slowly spreads across his features.

"heheh... welcome home, babe...!" his voice was still hoarse, clearly only half awake when he manages to wrap his arms tightly around your form. his rich chuckles were felt against your ear, making you giggle as you cuddled yourself even closer to him.

"you're such a dork, 'toru! do you know how much your snores absolutely terrified me when i came home from work? i genuinely thought a curse had followed you back to our apartment!"

your boyfriend rolls his eyes at you, giving you a smirk before pinching your own nose in response as your voice took on a more nasally quality.

"ngh, shtop it! i wash genunelly tewwified!"

"well that's what you get for makin' fun of me! my snores aren't that bad, okay?!"

after spending some time teasing each other, your beloved convinces you to fall asleep with him (after taking off your clothes and changing you into something more comfortable.) with a content purr, you agree to fall asleep while in his embrace, snuggling up even closer to him, ready to close your eyes-

"scccchhhhhhzzzzzz hngggg..."

only for your eyes to go wide when satoru manages to fall asleep first, practically snoring within your ear as you simply lay in bed while silently groaning to yourself.

tonight was going to be a long night for you.

[ nanami kento 🗞️ ]

the hardworking man who can never seem to catch a break. nanami will often fall asleep when you least expect it, but truly, you never had the heart to disturb him.

you were in the midst of cutting up the ingredients for tonight's dinner, and when you told your beloved kento to lay back and relax, he finally relented without any protest.

he had just gotten back from a rather long and arduous business trip the day before, and you had hoped that he would take this chance and sleep in, simply enjoying his day off. you wanted nothing more than to cook him his favorite meals consisting of chicken alfredo with a heavy helping of garlic bread.

you purposely got up early, ready to buy fresh ingredients for tonight's dinner when nanami ends up waking up with you. despite the dark circles seen beneath his eyes, he insisted on accompanying you (to make up for lost time).

even your attempts at convincing him to stay home fell on deaf ears, with your kento joining you on your errands, but not before allowing you to have breakfast with him at his favorite café where he surrounded himself with delicious coffee and all of the pastries he had been craving for.

with your day pretty much starting out like a much needed date, you finally came home around 6pm, where you were able to shoo kento away from the kitchen as you began working on making the chicken alfredo.

it was around 7:30 that you completed your dinner and called out kento's name. "ken, dinner's ready!"

you continue stirring at the pasta dish, already salivating at the scent of the white sauce along with the juicy cuts of chicken. you trail your eyes over to the large loaf of garlic bread, wishing to save heating that for last so that your kento could enjoy it freshly baked from the oven.

"kento?" you shut off the stove just then, placing a lid over the chicken alfredo as you went into the living room to check on him. you peek your head into the living room to see nanami settled in his usual spot on the couch with what looked like an open newspaper settled across his face.

making sure that your steps were quieter, you tiptoe even closer to him, gently removing the newspaper to reveal him sleeping against the couch. you could see the way his eyelids trembled while he slept, the sight of it all being enough to make you smile in response.

letting out your own yawn, you figured that once you got hungry, you could simply reheat the food and place the garlic bread in the oven then. feeling a bit tired yourself, you settle yourself next to kento, with your head on his shoulder while cuddling against him before joining him for a peaceful slumber.

[ fushiguro megumi 🐺 ]

the type to fall asleep in front of those who is truly trusted. like a wary dog wolf, megumi is the type to stay awake and wait until he's in the safety and comfort of his own bedroom to truly sleep. but lately... this seems to be changing when it comes to you.

you had invited megumi over to your place to have a movie night and a weeklong sleepover, not wishing to spend these long nights alone as your parents went on a much needed vacation together. they promised they would return in a week's time while giving you permission to invite a friend over to stay the night with you.

and of course, megumi ended up being your first choice.

you placed a lot of trust in him, despite being your best friend who just so happened to be a guy as well. had it been any other boy, your parents would have voiced their concern and suspicions-

but when it came to megumi, they could all visibly relax.

for starters, he truly wasn't like most boys who spent their whole lives salivating at the thought of spending the night at a girl's house. he was very deadpan and serious, not ever once treating you uncomfortably while maintaining a safe distance between you and him each time you were together.

(and so what if you happened to have the BIGGEST crush on him?)

if you were given a chance to be home alone like this, then there was no one you could possibly trust more than megumi. so when he finally arrives at your place right at 4pm, (his duffel bag in hand), you immediately went to hug him tightly.

"thank you so much, 'gumi! for agreeing to come over!"

"sure, don't mention it." his smile was a rare but tiny one, an expression he seems to save just for you while teasingly messing up your hair in response. his actions end up making you smile as you lead him to your living room, already setting up a blanket fort of sorts for you and megumi to enjoy for the duration of the week.

surrounded by bags of your favorite snacks and a box of half-eaten pizza, you held on tightly to your plushie as a scary movie was playing from your television screen. as the scary monster revealed itself from the shadowy depths of the forest, you let out a tiny squeak in response, momentarily looking away from the screen as your eyes met with megumi-

who was currently sleeping with a hand over his abdomen.

seeing such a sight made you forget all about the fear you once felt due to the movie, now filled with a fascination for the sleeping boy settled before you. making sure your movements were quiet, you shut off the t.v. and settle the remote off to the side.

holding your breath, you inch closer to megumi's sleeping form, and it brought you back to a certain memory you had from last year. it was the first time megumi had spent the night at your place, and it had happened because you wanted to study with megumi a bit for an upcoming exam.

what you didn't expect was for a storm to hit, making it impossible for megumi to return back home as you eagerly suggested that he spend the night at your place. he was hesitant and tried to convince you that he could walk back to the station without an umbrella, but it was ultimately the sight of your tears that makes him relent.

you wanted to give him your bed, but megumi absolutely refused to make you sacrifice your comfort for him. so, your friend ends up remaining on your floor with some of your plush blankets used as a makeshift mattress for him. that night, you had a hard time falling asleep since you were so aware of megumi's own movements as he tossed and turned throughout the night.

"megumi...?" you gave up trying to sleep, not liking the fact that your friend was having such a hard time falling asleep, too.

you swore you could hear him stiffen in the dead of night when you called out his name. "yeah?"

"are you okay? you can't sleep now, can you?" you ask him with a guilty sigh.

you remember hearing him let out a huff when he turns around to face you on the bed, "it has nothing to do with you, i'm just not used to sleeping in an unfamiliar environment. don't worry about me, just sleep like you normally do."

you rolled your eyes then, knowing that you couldn't sleep when your own crush friend was struggling to sleep. so, you joined him on the floor and kept him company throughout the night, talking about nothing and everything at the same time.

looking at him now, (seeing him in what had to be a deep sleep), you were mesmerized by how vulnerable he was. his spiked hair now remained mussed and flattened against the pillows, with his lips parted in tune to his own breathing.

reaching out a hand to brush back his hair, you sharply inhale when he opens up one eye to look at you.

"hm?" his gaze was still hazy with sleep, but you couldn't stop yourself from asking him, "you feel comfortable around me now?"

a tiny smirk paints his handsome features when he suddenly wraps his arms around your back. you let out a gasp, landing directly against megumi's chest as he brushes his lips against your hair.

"yeah, i do feel comfortable around you... something about you... makes me feel so soft... and warm."

megumi trails off just then, and judging from the way he tightens his arms around you before his breathing evens out, you had to smile and giggle a bit.

he had fallen asleep again.

not one to complain about being in megumi's arms, you let out a happy sigh before sliding your eyes shut, falling asleep within minutes as you dreamt of him...

[ okkotsu yuta 💍 ]

yuta was a notorious night owl, and most nights, you struggled to keep up with his late night binge consisting of movie marathon or shows that lasted several seasons. the only time you were able to convince yuta to sleep at a decent hour was when he was sick. and tonight was one of those nights...

your eyes were filled with concern for your boyfriend, feeling a bit panicked the moment he woke up with a fever.

his speech was slurred as he tried convincing you that he was just fine, but you did not believe him. forcing him to lay back in bed, it was now your turn to spoil him.

throughout the day, you made some soup for him while giving him his rounds of medicine with a tall glass of water to keep him hydrated. you took his temperature every couple of hours, and you were happy to see it steadily going down as the day progressed.

after caring for yuta, you spent the rest of the day tidying up your shared apartment, making sure that everything was back in its place so that once he felt better, then yuta wouldn't feel so stressed and have to worry about waking up to a messy apartment.

your last chore of the day consisted of you doing laundry, placing the newly washed clothes into the dryer before heading back to your shared bedroom with yuta.

the time read 9pm when you came back to your beloved boyfriend, letting out a sigh while stretching your body out. you already envisioned yuta scrolling through his phone after taking his medication-

so picture your surprise when you saw him still laying in bed, the damp handkerchief never leaving his forehead as his eyes were shut. his breathing was slightly labored, but not as bad as it had been this morning when the fever had first afflicted him. your heart seemed to melt at the mere sight of him, seeing his hand laying limply across your side of the bed, as if waiting for you.

"aw, my poor baby." you softly coo at him, shutting off the lights as you allowed complete darkness to settle across the room. walking to your side of the bed, you gently duck beneath the covers and slide closer to yuta, taking a hold of his hand with a bright smile on your face.

you listen as your boyfriend mumble a few words, finally adjusting his sleeping position as he turns to face you, the handkerchief now sliding completely off of his forehead in response to his movements. giggling softly, you take the damp handkerchief and remove it, placing the cloth on your nightstand instead while focusing your attention on him.

"sleep well, my love. i promise, i'll be by your side the whole time." you quietly promise him while squeezing at his hand in response.

and as you closed your own eyes, ready to join him in his land of dreams, you remain blissfully unaware of the smile that paints his features while he slept...

a.n. - i am so sorry, it feels like it's been forever since my last jjk update! but i hope this silly little update makes up for it 🥹 this is currently unedited, but i'll make any changes once this is posted!

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

#gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #nanami kento x reader #kento nanami x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #okkotsu yuta x reader #yuta okkotsu x reader #gojo x reader #nanami x reader #megumi x reader #yuta x reader #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x you #nanami kento x you #megumi fushiguro x you #yuta okkotsu x you

[yourplasticlittlespastic]

E̴N̴T̴W̴I̴N̴E̴D̴ - Series - Part 2

Part 1

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x f/reader

Warnings: Fluff and Sexual tension at the end -> Raw +18 warnings will come later in other chapters

Notes: Thank you for reading and for all the nice hearts you have given to this series <3 Ready for Bridgerton S3?

WC: 4.5K

It took all your strength to be on your right side of mind for a week. You called it a simple infatuation but your mind kept calling it... calling it... in reality, you didn't know how to call it but mere fixation was not. Was it supposed to happen in such a way that by only sharing a few glances, you could feel desire? This type of feeling was meant to be grown like plants, is it not? With talks, with promenades and tea and biscuits.

But you had those already.

Your eyes popped as the thought grew and grew. Indeed you have shared all of those with him. Seven years ago you started talking. He was your age, 21 and you 14 when by magic you two mixed like butter and toast. Talks? More than enough. Walks? More than a normal courtship can have. Tea and biscuits? More than you should have eaten.

You had scratched your forehead as you stared at the figure of Lord Coxingworth making his way to his carriage. The third talk of the week and you have learnt all the right things. All the proper ones. Benedict would have never.

"Stop it" you whispered as you shook your head, comparison cannot bring anything good, both are different and oh yes quite different "Ugh" you chastised yourself because your mind was going in circles "It is temporary," you said "My courses," you said looking at your dress, underneath "It might be that"

You were the most sentimental when your courses were expected. Indeed that was it, it is a good friendship and shall not be confused with anything more.

“Miss Ashbourne” the sound of Sarah appeared with a knock “an urgent note for you, from Eloise Bridgerton”

When you opened the small squared note you saw her handwriting in the fashion of urgency as she said “Let us exchange some judgemental words about the world. We should talk”

A sudden fear came to you, she knows. How could she? Benedict told her. How could he? No, he couldn’t.

You make no haste to walk out with Sarah by your side as you make your way to the park. It was a lovely day, the sun was out and there was no wind at all. The park was crowded and yet Eloise was easy to find, you knew where she would be, she loved the bridge and the pond.

“There you are future Lady Coxingworth or Marquise Ashdown”

“You should have brought swimming attire, it could have been the most useful when I threw you to the pond”

She smiled, her cheeks had the most beautiful glow as she gave you a hug and then proceeded to sit on the bridge. You sat beside her and let the sun hit your face and for a moment the focus was on another Bridgerton.

However, the crisp of the day proved to be more equipped than you two and so you decided to escort Eloise to her house. The grandiose of it always made your eyes soft.

“Well come on for a small refreshment and then you part” she offered and you accepted

And while walking inside the pastel drawing room you spotted the nape of Benedict as he kept reading the journal of the day.

“A bit late to read news is it not?”

He turned around from the soft couch and smiled at you “not at all, for me is morning still”

“Yes brother we all know you didn’t sleep last night”

Your stomach made a turn, why he didn’t sleep? Was he perhaps talking to someone?

“I have a commission coming next week and the deadline is approaching so I stayed awake working on the details and then I forgot it was morning already when I started drawing and... well it is done and here I am reading the news of the day with a headache” he closed the journal and stared at you “Miss Ashbourne, how are you this fine morning?”

You snorted, your morning was hours ago “Good thank you, the most wonderful morning” you followed the game “I came from the pond with Eloise”

“I have painted that” he commented “You’ll find a very badly angled canvas by the entrance"

“it is not bad, Benedict” Eloise said

“My profes-“

“Forget about art school, I can’t believe that you follow their word. Today’s art is bland like fish for breakfast”

He chuckles as you see their banter “They do have excellent points to give”

“And I am far from interested in them”

“What about you, Miss Ashbourne?”

“Me?”

“Interested”

In what? On who? You asked for yourself

“Well-“

“That is a yes” he stood up “sister would you mind…?”

“We have been walking and standing most of the afternoon, brother. She might be tired”

“Let her speak then”

Both pairs of eyes landed on you, how could you avoid a private chat with Benedict? Your heart was not prepared.

He offered his arm and you took it. Both of you walked downstairs, the colours of the sunset settling outside the majestic house.

“My mother has ordered them to hang every single painting I have made. Quite adamant I had to be with her for her not to hang my five-year-old pieces”

You laugh softly as the image comes to mind. “I would not blame her. Eloise is right”

“Hmmm”

“I am sure that professor had good points but art has proven to be the most emotional is it not?”

“Your point?”

“That one cannot structure emotions. One cannot compare the same canvas with the other one as if they were similar. They are not, they hold different emotions and perspectives.”

You stopped as Benedict looked at one of his paintings hanging on the wall. The fruit bowl had the most detail you have ever seen.

“You speak like a true artist,” he said still fixated on front

“I might not be one for the brush and paint but I do know other things”

He quickly turned “Like what?”

You instantly blushed. You were not going to start reciting mathematics or philosophy. So you shrugged in silence which made him smile.

“What about that stolen poetry book?”

“Oh” he remembered “in my room”

“Yeah? Well I don’t mind for a new poem today”

You snorted “I shall go, it’s getting quite dark outside and my mo-“

“I believe you don’t remember that for me is morning now”

You dropped your shoulders at the still childish game “Is it?”

“Oh it is”

“So on this fine morning” you smiled “you want me to fetch my book and come back so I can read one more poem?”

“Yes, after you have followed your pius girl routine”

“Meaning?”

“Aren’t you going to bathe?” He smirked as you slapped him with your hand“And eat with your mama and then prepare for bed?”

“Yes… I should do that” you whispered

“Come here before you sleep and read to me. I am not a stranger after all”

His smile and the glint of mischievousness were the things that made you follow that routine in its perfection.

The bathing went fast as the soapy rose water left your skin glistening, the dinner made your stomach fill and by the end when your mother said good night and your lady left you alone, you took the green robe by the end of your bed and did the most silent walk ever.

You walked with your velvet slippers and swayed across the gardens careful of not being noticed and minutes later you knocked softly on the window you knew the art studio was in.

It made you giggle, the thought of using the back door like any other servant. Such a sneaky way, such adrenaline of doing something like this and unaccompanied. If Lady Whistledown could see you now, tomorrow you were sure there will be a paper with only your name on it.

“You are late,” he said

“I am not, I did my things fast” you argued getting inside where the kitchens are “You have lost your sense of time today”

You didn't bother to close the door because it would have made a sound. The kitchens were empty and the only light that could be seen was the candle by the countertop.

"So which one would you read to me?" He said behind you

You turned seeing his face slightly darkened “Patience, let me sit down at least”

“You make me wait like a child”

“Are you not that?” You coyly smiled while walking to his studio, you knew above you the Bridgertons were sleeping and that only increased the adventurer within you. And when you entered, the same smell filled your lungs, you moved the robe and sat down on the maroon couch. You watched intently as Benedict eagerly closed the door and tried to move all the cluttered brushes and boxes.

You felt your body tense as he walked past the sofa and picked a book. You didn’t want to ask what the book was and why the sudden interest. You watched as he turned around with the book open.

“And what is that?” You questioned

“My own journal, I want to see if the poem will spark any sort of inspiration… for a painting”

“Very well” You nodded ready to split the book in your hands and ready but his hand as soft as a pillowcase stopped yours

“Forgive me, do you need something to drink?” He asked and saw the thoughts in your eyes “Perhaps something stronger than milk?”

“Brandy you mean?”

He shrugged “If you want a sip I can give you from mine”

“I am not a child. I am a woman”

“I know”

“Then I want a glass, a quarter of what you normally drink”

“Your wishes are commands, my lady, let me get us something and you shall begin reading while I look for it, yes?"

"Yes"

The candle by his desk was enough for you to see how he stood up and went to the corner where the brandy and the cups were. You opened the book on a different page and you adjusted your eyesight.

“I got it”

“Tell me the name” he ordered still pouring some brandy into what you believe is his glass

“Beneath the Velvet Veil”

“Ooooh” he remarked “beneath… the velvet rail. Do you believe is about what lies beneath a woma-“

“Benedict” you said harshly “not everything has to be about women”

“I disagree but please” he returned with the glasses and offered one “One sip before you start”

The smell of alcohol made your nose wrinkle nevertheless, you drank from the glass and let the liquor slip through. The burn in your throat made your eyes watery and it made you cough a little, the sweetness of it however made you feel more awake.

“Good?”

“Quite” You took another sip out of bravery and tasted it better, your eyes, suddenly fixated on the poem started to scan the first line

"Beneath the Velvet Veil"

Beneath the velvet veil of night,

Where shadows whisper, hearts take flight,

A silent war of classes rages on,

As dreams of change are fiercely drawn.

In cobblestone streets where lanterns glow,

The cries of the oppressed begin to grow,

Against the tyranny of wealth and power,

They yearn for justice in the midnight hour.

With fervent hearts, they take a stand,

United voices across the land,

For a world where privilege has no reign,

And every soul may dare to dream again.

Oh, let the winds of change arise,

And lift the veil from blinded eyes,

For in the hearts of those who fight,

Lies the dawn of a new, just light.”

Benedict blinked twice and rapidly formed a smile on his face “This one here can spark a revolution”

“It takes more than one poem to do so"

"True," he said drinking again "but it takes a poem with such desire to stir some passion in people" he leaned back and grunted "Does it say which year was published or at least... bind together?"

You quickly scanned it "No, there's nothing else"

"It can't be more than a few years old I assume, so whatever the fight this poem was trying to build... it failed" he snorted "We are still the same"

"Unequal wages outside London" you rapidly added "Social reputation as a means to oppress..." you sighed

Benedict curved his lips at the so sudden but so true comments coming from your mouth "You say it with such experience"

"I am a woman in society, Benedict"

"And a lovely one"

You blushed at his words, not the compliment that was given, but the way his voice was, a soft low tone as if he was singing and that made you stare at his lips for a second until you distracted yourself with one final sip of the fruity brandy.

"Thank you, what I mean is that I do know things"

He moved fast on his spot trying to stare at you "Yes you have said so already... please tell me, what are these precious things you know?"

You laughed and shrugged "A lot, Sciences, languages, music, social sciences"

Benedict snored and smiled "You are boring me"

You opened your eyes and took your hand and tried to pinch his arm "I am an accomplished lady. I am also quite observant"

"Are you?" he questioned, "are you really?"

"What does that mean?"

"Do you have an inkling of a clue as to why I have not slept?"

"Because you were working?"

"Partially" he took his hand and ruffled his messy strands of hair "That damned painting, the commission is taking longer"

"Because you can't sleep," you said

"No, because..." he dropped his shoulders and drank the whole glass "Because my thoughts are somewhere else"

You blinked slowly at his words "Are you well? I know a good doctor that-"

"I am well"

"But then what is it that is making your thoughts wonder?"

He licked his lips as the brownish liquid slipped through "You"

You swallowed as your throat went dry and as much as the fire within you wanted you to act confident... you just tried to be absorbed into the cushion as if you were retracting yourself.

Benedict took the silence as his turn to keep talking so he moved closer and rested his chin on the back pillow "Be so kind as to tell me how is it that inspiration works?"

what kind of question was that? you asked yourself and you again shook your head in silence.

He opened his mouth "Because I was alright before returning to London. It has been two months since the season started and look at me" he snorted "I had a good smear of inspiration given by Aubrey Hall and its landscape. I come here and start talking to you again as we have done so for years but this time my inspiration fades away"

You frown, an honest confused frown "Bu-"

"Oh do not give me that face, Miss Ashbourne" he gulps "You are aware of what you have been doing, are you not?"

"If you say I am responsible for your inspiration fading away..." you blinked "I don't kn-"

"It faded, yes but only for it to move all over you" he whispered and looked into your eyes

You gasped, your breath suddenly short and your chest tight. The words inked deep now in your mind and heart.

"I am not joking, it is true" he scratched his chin "It is the most confusing thing ever because..." he snorted "I cannot stop thinking about your face or about you wholly and it is more confusing because I know I started seeing you in other colours since last season"

"But I was only-"

"Twenty years of age I know. A part of me tries to conceal that because I may be bold but not to that level yet I am honest and I had to tell you that"

You gulped.

"I often question my reason and told myself that we have not been together enough and that this.... in me" he touched his chest "Is just transitory"

You blinked at that, it is exactly what you have told yourself "I..." you said "I thought so too"

"Have you? And what conclusion did you arrive at?"

It was your time to talk so you clenched your legs and crossed your ankles trying to be straight as you said it "That..." you smiled "that there have been enough talks and enough walks and enough... secret readings for this to arise in us"

"Us?" he said "I was merely talking about me... do you mean you have felt it too?"

"Since last year" you whispered, your eyes fixated on him. His eyes widened.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because it is improper, not that I have ever cared about that, but... as you said I was twenty"

"Right"

"I didn't want to believe it" you confessed "So I have been ignoring it"

"Did it work? Because my trials have failed if I could tell you what I have done, what I have thought"

For a second, or more than that, between your legs, you felt a tingling that made you gulp "What?"

"What?"

"What have you thought?" the question came too suddenly but by the look of it you could not retract it at all

"Things about you that should not be thought"

"What kind of things?" you insisted, the fire within you made you feel alive "Tell me"

Benedict touched his face and looked at you, you saw a hint of fear in his eyes as he opened his mouth

"Tell me" you insisted "If we have already confessed, what are the odds of doing it again?"

"A lot, Miss Ashbourne"

"I don't mind"

"Well" he laughed nervously "I..." he rapidly moved on the couch, he leaned to you, quite closely to your figure retracted on the corner of the couch "You must wash my mouth with soap after telling you this"

"I can take it, I assure you"

"I..." his lips opened, a soft and pinky pair of lips, you wondered if they would taste the same way his brandy did "I have seen you naked"

You frowned "Naked?

"In my mind, I have formed you. I have used what I know to construct that image. I..." he looked down at your white sleeping gown "I have seen your arms, the crease of your elbow and forearm. I have seen your neck and your shoulder blade and I remember when I saw your ankles once" he shrugged "Forgive me but as an artist, I must use any resources to form a muse"

"What else have you seen?" you asked in a whisper, you could smell the brandy out of your mouth too

"I have seen your chest, only the beautiful way the collarbone curves, and I have imagined the shape of your breasts... I have imagined the curves of your belly, your waist and hips and... your thighs and" he bit his lip as his eyes looked at your covered legs "and the rest"

Your mouth gaped and felt the air in the studio become thick and hot "Oh"

"Yes, forgive me"

"Don't" you whispered, the heat from your body becoming unbearable

"And..." he added, his face closer "I have used you in my mind with the purpose of-"

"Painting?" you asked

This time Benedict squinted his eyes and then stared at you "Not quite. It feels like a puzzle"

"How so?"

"I had it almost built with everything I know about you. I am sure I could write a book about your person and you won't know how I know those things yet I miss some pieces that I know I should be patient getting them" he slowly shook his head "And you?"

"Me?"

"Have you thought of me?"

"A little"

"More than a little?" he smiled

You were sure he was testing your level of knowledge. And indeed your level is high. You know the human male form if that is what he is asking. Have you thought of him in such state?

"I have wondered..." you murmured "What is about your lips that are always so... rosy?"

Benedict smiled "Do they look inviting?" he said leaning closer

For once you did not retract more into the couch, not that you could more. You took a breath and said "I don't know"

"Would you like to know?"

"Benedict"

"I am only asking"

"What else would you do if I said yes?"

"Taste yours in return"

Your lips parted and you were not able to speak. He was staring at you in a way that made your whole body tremble, the tingle in your belly becoming an actual throb between your legs.

"Miss Ashbourne"

"Mr. Bridgerton"

"Do I have to spell it out? I want to kiss you"

"Why?"

"Because I have been waiting a long time to do so"

"You said we are friends, friends don't kiss"

"Friends don't confess either but here we are" he moved a bit more, his lips only a few inches from yours "I need to know how is it that the world makes sense, how is it that I can have the inspiration that has left me in such a long time. Is it all the alcohol or is it you? You are the answer, right?"

"I don't know"

"Can I find out?"

"Please do"

The words made his heart flutter and the air became thick, his lips touched yours and it was like an electric shock. You felt the room spinning in darkness as you closed your eyes. You felt the softness of his lips against you and quite indeed the fruity lingering of brandy. It was the perfect mix of both. The kiss grew the opposite of chaste. The feeling was so overwhelming and you felt like Benedict was going to consume you and the most curious thing is that you were willing.

You felt his ample hand touching your back and pushing you against him and that made the kiss grow wild. You moved your head and let the passion guide the kiss. The world made sense like this and still, it made no sense at all.

"Y/N" he whispered between the kiss and moved to your cheek and kissed behind your ear

"What?"

"You have freckles here," he said and kissed your skin "Here" another kiss and another "and here. It is like admiring a masterpiece no one has ever left you get near before"

You grew impatient for how many words were coming from his mouth when he could have been kissing you more. You searched for his lips and found them in a latch that made him growl and move his tongue to play with yours. You were so lost in his kiss that the feeling in your stomach grew and grew and was about to explode.

Benedict's hands moved to the side of your hip and then the top of your thigh where he squeezed. A gentle moan escaped your lips, and he swallowed it.

"You are a dream," he said between kisses "A beautiful and vivid dream"

"And you are a madman"

"Perhaps," he said and pressed his lips to yours once more, the kiss was different, his lips moved to yours and it was as if he was trying to memorize every single spot. You felt your whole body reacting and it was becoming hard to breathe.

The feeling was so strong that it was unbearable. The tingling turned into a throb and it was making you lose control, your hands fought with your mind as if they needed to pull the skirt of your gown and touch yourself.

"You taste better than the finest whiskey," he said as his mouth moved to your neck. Your head fell back and gave him more access to your skin.

"Benedict" you whispered

"I love how you say my name. You always have so many things to say" he kissed deeply on your gentle skin "but now you only say my name"

How can this night end? So many scenarios ran through your mind but alas the wetness of his mouth made the rest disappear.

He pressed his body against you and his hand moved to your knee. A small moan escaped your lips and it made him look into your eyes.

"What is the matter?"

"N-nothing"

"It is something. Did I hurt you?"

"No"

"Then what?"

"I..."

"Y/N" he whispered

"I don't know how can this... be... grow more than a kiss"

He saw the innocence of your statement, of course, he could never compare you to the other women he has met. They knew with exactitude how this could "grow" and yet you, a different golden fruit in front of him were questioning whether a kiss is already what means intimacy.

"It can" he gulped seeing your shining eyes "It definitely can"

"How"

"I cannot show you now, my dear"

"Why?"

"Because I don't trust myself"

"But-"

"I want you, Y/N. Not only your mouth but all of you" he moved his hand and cupped your face "I cannot show you this tonight but if you will give me the chance, I promise I will do my best"

"To what?" your question carried a heavy responsibility in its meaning

"To..." he snorted "do something. I don't know" he laughed "Close that robe of yours and I shall accompany you to your house. You ought to sleep now"

"Impossible"

"Do your best" he kissed your forehead "Let's go"

The night was quiet, and as he held your hand and guided you through the back gardens of the other houses you kept yourself in silence. The soil under your slippers was not there you were sure. As if you were floating.

"Go on then," he said pointing at the backdoor "Be a good girl and sleep"

Suddenly the wetness you felt between your legs came back "Right... shall I see you tomorrow?"

He took your hand and placed a finger but he stole a very haste kiss from your lips. A grin on his face as you smiled inr return at the stolen kiss "You will"

"And the day after?"

"Of course"

"And the one after that"

"You are being too greedy but I'll say yes because it is you"

You nodded and turned the knob of the back door but a hand turned you gently away from it "Yes?"

Benedict stood there like a child. He was silent and then he softly smiled "Nothing, go on you, sneaky girl. Next time don't even bother bringing that poetry book. We won't need it"

#benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton smut #benedict bridgerton #bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton fic #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton/reader #smut #fic #bridgerton fic #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton oneshot #benedict bridgerton x you #fanfiction #smut fanfiction #18+ only #18+ content #benedict bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton smut

[twistedwonderlandimaginesblog]

Epel w/ Gardenia!

Epel Felmier:

Gardenia - the love of a friend who doesn’t want to just be friends.

“Why are you staring so hard?”

You never had anyone study your beauty routine as intensely as Epel was now, not even Vil who wanted to check every ingredient in the products you used. At first you didn’t know why he followed you to your room, having just confessed to having a first date in just a few hours and that you needed to start getting ready; you wondered if he was worried about you or about this other person, as Epel had always proven to be a good friend to you. You don’t think he’s quite experienced enough to point out any improvements in your make-up or flex knowledge like Vil or Rook could do but you didn’t mind the company, smiling away as the question went unanswered for another few minutes.

“…It’s because you’re beautiful.” You make eye contact with him in the mirror, amused when his eyes darted away to look at anything but you. You were used to more brazen behavior from your fellow Pomefiore student but this seemed to be the most brazen thing of all, yet he didn’t fully commit to it.

“I have another question.” You tried to keep the laughter from your tone but it hit you all at once why he had attached himself to your side; just to be sure, you moved your mirror to get a full reflection of his face, knowing he wouldn’t notice, “Why did you come get ready with me? Are you going on the date, too?”

Epel’s eyebrows twitched at the mention of a date, the frown on his face apparent. You knew he was being more honest because he didn’t realize it was your turn to study him, seeing the way he reacted to the thought of you with another person. This had just been a distraction date, a nice enough person but not someone you imagined would last longer than the night. Epel, however, had proven himself both earnest and interesting, certainly a person who captured interest. He was also ridiculously cute, pretty even, though you knew he’d hate it if you voiced your thoughts on it.

“You shouldn’t go on that date,” Epel finally stated, voice quieter than normal. His eyebrow was still twitching but he had wiped the frown off his face, his arms now crossed.

“Why?” You ask again, your favorite question of the night it seemed. It was like plucking hairs but the pain would be worth it if you could finally get some form of a confession out of him. His cheeks bloomed a beautiful pink that went perfectly with his hair, a true masterpiece that you could sit and admire all night. You’re already drafting the message in your head to apologize for canceling the date, but Epel was being too cute for you to concentrate for long.

“You know why.” Epel’s scowl is more of a pout and you tried not to give yourself away by fawning over it, taking a little breath before turning in your seat to face him head on. Epel is surprised by your sudden move, looking at you like he was prepared to fight to not get thrown out of your room.

“I want you to say it.”

Epel seemed to think for a moment before his leg shot out, hooking around the leg of your chair and suddenly pulling you closer to him. It was a shocking move and one that displayed some strength, your heart fluttering more by the minute. Who taught him that? He wore such a serious look on his face you thought you might get a scolding first before a confession, but what you got was even better.

“I want you to stay here… with me.”

 “Oh, but I’m practically all done up with nowhere to go! It’d be a crime not to go out tonight.”

“Th-then I’ll take you out!” Epel’s response was the boldness you had been waiting for, your eyes lighting up as you leaned forward to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Doesn’t it feel good being honest~? Now get lost so I can get ready for our date, I can at least surprise you with a nice outfit, right?” You ushered him from your room with a playful ‘shoo, shoo!’ while he was still reeling from the feeling of your lips on his skin, standing frozen in front of your door even after you had closed it.

He didn’t even notice when Rook walked by, singing about how love was in the air.

#Twisted Wonderland #TWST #Twisted Wonderland Imagines #Twisted Wonderland x Reader #TWST Imagines #TWST x Reader #Epel Felmier #Epel Felmier x Reader #Flower Prompts #Scenario

[rougecreator1]

Hi ! m a little shy so sorry for talking in anon 😊I was wondering, after I saw you opend reneé request. If you would want to write about ReneéReader (fem, obviously)where Reneé ADHD and anxiety are a little too much and Reader comforts then

Swirling Thoughts ||

|| Renée Rapp x fem!reader

|| Warnings: reader & Renée getting drunk, Renée struggling with anxiety, first time writing for Renée, short drabble (no part 2), light swearing, slight homophobia

|| Summary: Renée's meeting reader's parents for the first time, safe to say she's nervous as shit. Reader helps her through it.

Requests open!

Started: May 12th

Finished: May 13th

~~~

You and Renée have been together for a few months now, the public didn't know and neither did either of your parents. You had kept your relationship pretty secretive. Knowing the kind of chaos that could come with revealing it. You had kept it so secret that no one even knew the two of you were associated with each other until you were ready for them to know.

You were famous for your own works, such as the various shows you'd acted in and the two songs you had released. Music wasn't your main focus, but after a single scene of you singing for a show aired... people begged for more. For you it was more of an extra cash grab that accidentally went more viral than you planned for; which was how you had caught the attention of Renée Rapp.

The two of you were currently laid entangled with each other on the couch, watching a movie in your apartment. Renée had suggested watching one of your older movies and every time you appeared on screen, the two of you would take a shot. So that's what you'd been doing for the last hour an a half.

By this point, you were drunkenly giggling. Head on Renée's shoulder as you looked into her eyes. She wasn't quite as drunk as you, but she was definitely there.

"What, baby?" She asked in a soft tone when she noticed your eyes on hers.

"Nothing~ you're just really pretty." You whispered, a faint pink hue formed on her cheeks when she heard you. She'd never get tired of hearing you compliment her.

"Mm? If I'm pretty what does that make you?" Renée flirts back, hand coming up to your cheek and giving it a gentle rub.

You simply shrugged at her question, not finding an answer to it which made Renée raise an eyebrow.

"Baby, you're fucking stunning." She tells you, now you were the one blushing. Then a thought came across your mind, you wanted to know what she would think of it but you didn't know if you guys were at that stage yet.

She noticed you were in thought but waited to see if you would continue it on your own. When you didn't she gave you a playful nudge, pulling you closer into her arms," What're you thinking about?"

You hesitate, taking another drink despite the fact that your character hadn't been on screen. Leading Renée to realize this was definitely a more serious conversation.

"Do you think we're ready to meet each other's parents?" You asked, you could see Renée's breath hitch as she also took another drink.

"Hell yeah, let's do it." She gives your shoulder a squeeze, though it was the alcohol confidence that lead her to agree.

You guys spent the rest of the night discussing it, talking about the dates for meeting everyone and how you would go about it. You made sure to write everything down in your notes app; not wanting to forget the conversation in the morning.

You and Renée had come to the decision that this coming Sunday, the two of you would have dinner at your parents house. You texted your mom about it, being slightly vague with who exactly you were bringing over but letting her know it was your girlfriend. She was on edge about it. Your parents knew you were gay, your mom took it better than your dad but she still had her complaints.

Mom: Girlfriend?? You're dating again? Honey, you should've told me! There's a nice man that moved in next door.

Your mom texted, you sighed deeply as you read the text. Sunday night was definitely going to be... interesting. To say the least.

You: No mom, I'm happy in my current relationship. Thank you, though.

You weren't going to be rude about it, she was your mother after all. So you let it slide and hoped it would be just the one time comment.

While you were dealing with all of this, Renée was in the kitchen. Pacing back and forth as she fidgeted with her rings. She had gotten in her head and was overthinking everything. Maybe she shouldn't have agreed. Maybe they should wait longer. Was she ready for this?

Her eyes flicked to yours when she saw your figure step into the kitchen doorway. Your expression soft as you walked over, pulling Renée into your arms to slow her pacing. "What's wrong?" You could tell Renée was overthinking, you knew her well enough by now to be able to catch all the little signs.

"I..." Renée paused, taking a breath and allowing herself to melt further into your arms. You gave her side a soft squeeze as you felt her do this," I don't know if I'm ready."

You frowned slightly, having thought that might have been the case." I get it, baby. I'm scared too. How about this.." You quickly came up with a compromise, Renée's eyes on yours as she listened to you," We wait and see how the rest of this week goes. Then make a finale decision Saturday night, if you're not up for it you're not up for it and that's okay."

You could feel her shoulders relax as she gave a gentle nod. Yeah, okay. That sounded fine. She would at least still be making an effort as opposed to quitting as soon as possible.

"Yeah... okay." Renée replied, you gave her forehead a soft kiss and kept her close in your arms. Hoping you at least eased her mind a little.

And you had, she was grateful for you.

#x reader #fanfic #canon x reader #fem reader #wlw fiction #renee rapp x reader #renee x reader #renee rapp

[copperbadge]

Still badgering away at The Chicken Salad War and I did not realize how delighted I was going to be by introducing semi-masc nonbinary Jes Deimos to gallant butch Ylias Lazaar. I don't quite know where their subplot is going to go if anywhere but I feel like it may be somewhere awesome.

"Mr. Lazaar," said a familiar voice, and she turned to see LeFevre at her elbow, looking pleased. "A great success for you, I think." 

"Seems to have gone all right, yeah," she agreed. "I heard you were going to crash."

"Alas, I could not -- I ended up invited," he said, grinning. 

"And you brought guests?"

"Ah, I didn't mean to bring the royal family down on your head so soon," he said, leaning in. "They are terrible gossips; I should have remembered when I told King Theophile that he would likely share the information. Still, His Grace Gerald is pleased you use his oil and His Grace Michaelis enjoyed the matbucha greatly."

"And you? No constructive criticism?" she asked. 

"Not tonight. I have never opened a restaurant myself, but I can understand this is your triumph! And in any case they are small quibbles. I will need to dine here more times before I speak," he replied. Someone tapped him on the arm, and he turned, then nodded at the person standing just behind him -- the one who'd been speaking with the old king a moment before. "Mr. Lazaar, may I present Ser Deimos, who came with His Grace. This is Mr. Lazaar, the chef of the hour. She/her," he added with a smile. 

Ser Deimos looked amused. "They/them," they said, holding out a hand. "We're honored to be able to attend -- I don't think we realized when Gerald told us he was going that it was your soft open." 

"It's my pleasure. Not everyone gets to feed the royal family on their first night," she replied, bowing over their hand. "And you're an ornament to any dining room." 

Deimos looked delighted. "Thank you, that's kind of you to say. If I'd known the food was going to be this good I'd have scared up a party. I have a lot of friends in from out of country at the moment."

"Well, we open reservations tomorrow morning -- but for the royal family, I can set aside a table," Ylias replied. 

"Don't, just yet," Deimos said, looking around. "I'm thinking more of a party. Could we rent the restaurant?"

"The whole restaurant?" Ylias asked, blinking. Simon looked smug. 

"If not, that's fine -- we'll take the offer of a table -- but my son's graduating next week, and we were thinking of a group dinner the night before. Simon here is catering the night of," they added. "It'll be twenty or thirty people, and some of them have been doubtful that Fons-Askaz could live up to New York, foodwise. Yes, I felt the same," they added, catching Ylias's expression. "The only thing Fons-Askaz can't offer that New York can is the pizza, and only because our Eddie hasn't got the time to open a pizza restaurant." 

"I hadn't..." Ylias fumbled slightly. "I'm sorry, we have a catering menu but I hadn't arranged any kind of contract for renting the space. It'd need to be a handshake deal and I couldn't quote a fee off the top of my head."

"Of course, I threw this at you with no warning. Here," they said, reaching into their pocket for a wallet and pulling out a card. "Email or phone is fine. If you can send me a proposal by Sunday, I can make a deposit on Monday. I'm comfortable with an informal deal as long as we have terms written out over email. If you don't feel ready, just let me know -- we'll definitely be back regardless." 

"I'll be in touch," Ylias managed. Deimos gave her a bow and a smile, and retreated to their table.

[Then, later]

As they left Plate & Press, full of good food and possibly slightly tipsy, Jes leaned against Michaelis's arm and said, "Holy shit."

He gave them an amused look. "Yes, the food was very good. Nice space, too. I can't remember the last time I had such a pleasant evening out."

"Well, yeah, but I meant the chef," they said. He glanced at them, frowning.

"The Lazaar fellow?"

"Lady, I think. Uncertain, actually. Butch, possibly. She/her but Simon called her Mr. Lazaar." 

"I noticed her, but I didn't see anything particularly unusual. Why?" 

"I love you to bits but you're hopeless," they said. "You really didn't think she was hot?"

"I don't form opinions about sex appeal, generally," he reminded them. "Present company excepted." 

"Well, she is hot in a very specific way -- like you, actually, sort of masculine and chivalrous -- and she called me an ornament to her dining room. I may have had a little moment." 

He laughed. "Oh dear, am I going to have to fight a chef for your favors?" 

"No, it's just nice to know I still got it." 

He kissed the side of their head, affectionate. "You're an ornament wherever you go, but I'll make a note to remind you of it more often. Seems she's making a stir -- Simon likes her also, I think. Sometime soon we're going to have to kick Gregory and Eddie out of the residence for an evening, and I think I'll recommend that place for dinner. Gregory loves Tunisian food and I think Eddie would find a lot to interest him."

"You just want to spend a whole evening cuddling babies," Jes said. 

"Joan and the twins all require the benefit of my wisdom on a regular basis," he said. There was a wolf-whistle directed at them from somewhere over their heads; some young wag, out on the second-floor balcony of a small hotel, clearly getting an early start on Pride. She waved a pink-and-blue flag in their direction. 

"You can't have him!" Jes called. 

"I was whistling at you!" the girl called back. 

"I'll take him," her friend offered from the chair next to her. 

Michaelis chuckled. "Drink some water, young ladies, or you'll be in no condition for the parade this weekend," he called. 

"Vodka's sixty percent water!" someone on another balcony shouted, and someone else yelled for everyone to keep it down, and the discussion went on without them. 

#shivadhverse

[luveline]

jade!! if your reqs are still open… would you write emily and mom!r? kind of like you’ve been doing with hotch or steve (with noah). i feel like she’d be one of those people who speaks to kids like they’re tiny adults

Emily presses the flat of her wooden spoon into a blueberry and watches the skin of it burst open. It sinks into the oatmeal beneath, a soft beige turning lilac. 

She flicks off the heat. She can’t cook like you can, but oatmeal makes itself. The mushy blueberries means the oats are soft enough for eating, usually. She dips a spoon in to check, adds a big pinch of salt, wonders if that’s stupid and eats another mouthful that burns her lips. 

“Ouch,” she mumbles. Slowly, she tips her head from one side to the other. “But yummy.” 

“Em-wy?” 

“What?” She turns on the spot. There in the doorway stands your little girl, an ever-present smile on her face as she lifts her hand for a wave. “Hello,” Emily says 

“Hi.” 

“What do you want?” 

“Water, please.”

Emily turns the handle of her pot before she bends down with her arms out, a gentle invitation. Sometimes Jane wants to be held, but usually she’s just hanging around. To Emily’s surprise, Jane skips and stumbles her way into Emily’s legs, where Emily takes her under the arms and pulls her up against her chest. 

She smiles at Jane’s little face. She looks so much like you, and she’s such a sweet girl. “Hi, baby,” she says, not quite slipping into baby talk, but softer than she’d spoken to her before. “Where’s your mommy?” 

Jane points down at the stove. “Breakfast?” 

“You bet. Is mommy still getting dressed?” 

“Maybe.” 

Emily shifts Jane on her hip and turns to the cabinet for a sippy cup. “Okie dokie. Let’s make you your water, ‘cos you asked me so nicely. You want some apple juice too?” 

Jane rubs her face against Emily’s shoulder with a yawn but doesn’t answer. 

“Babe?” Emily calls. “Can I give her some apple juice?” 

You swing around the corner. Emily’s apartment is big, sound carries, and yet she’d had no idea you were so close. You’ve changed your shirt but your pyjama bottoms remain, your hair out of your face —her heart gives a jump. To love someone and to know you’re lucky to have them simultaneously can often inspire tachycardia. 

“Sure,” you say. 

You’re wearing her socks, your pyjama pant legs pooled around your feet, and your shirt baggy but short at the arms. You have the most lovely arms. It’s stupid, but Emily knows it’s true. She could kiss every inch of each one without getting bored. Not that you need to know that about her. 

You slide across the kitchen tile to give Jane a light peck. Smiling, you turn Emily’s face with your pinky finger and give her an even softer one, careful of her makeup. “Good morning.” 

“Yeah, good morning,” Emily says, bouncing Jane higher up her side. “You look ready for another day in bed.” 

“Do you really have to go?” 

“You know I do, it’s Monday.” 

“We should petition for longer weekends. Don’t you think so, bubby? Shouldn’t Emily stay home and make us all our meals? Mommy’s still tired.” 

Jane hears your sweetened voice and holds her arms out to be held. You take her from Emily’s arms, and you lean against the counter as your smile fades. “I really wish you could stay,” you say more earnestly. “I miss you when you’re not here.” 

“I’ll be home tonight, I promise. They know you’re not feeling well, nobody expects me to leave you here with the baby all by yourself.” Not feeling well is an understatement that neither of you comment on. Emily just wants to rub the tension right out of your shoulders. She doesn’t have the time. 

“I used to be by myself before,” you point out. 

“I know. But now we’re together, and I love you, and I’ll be back tonight.” She hates the crestfallen set to your brow. “I’m sorry.” 

“No, I’m sorry. I’m being silly.” 

Emily thinks about it, her finger creeping up to rub Jane’s soft cheek. “Mommy’s not silly, is she?” she asks in a murmur. “She’s beautiful.” 

Jane nods her head clumsily. “Yes.” 

“See? If Janie thinks so, it must be true.” She smiles until you smile back. “I’ll be home by six. Cross my heart.” 

“Can I have another kiss before you go? Won’t mess up your lips, I promise.” 

Emily could never say no to you. She didn't want to, but she couldn’t. She leans in careful not to crush your little clinger and lets her eyes shutter closed, her breath held as you tip your chin down and your noses press together. You might be cautious of her makeup, but Emily isn’t. Her kiss is a promise that she’s gonna come home tonight. She can’t always keep them, but right now she’s determined. 

She pulls away. Your lips are red with transferred lipstick that moves with your smile. 

“Kiss me?” Jane asks. 

“Who, me?” Emily asks. 

Jane nod. Emily presses a chaste kiss to Jane’s chubby cheek, and rubs the lipstick away with similar tenderness. “Let me get you your juice, bub, and then I really gotta go.” 

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss x y/n #emily prentiss x fem!reader #emily prentiss imagine #emily prentiss fluff #emily prentiss fanfic #emily prentiss oneshot #emily prentiss scenario #emily prentiss drabble #emily prentiss fic #emily prentiss fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

[runnning-outof-time]

A Special Woman | Tommy Shelby x Reader (featuring a very special guest)

Request: no - written for @look-at-the-soul ‘s The Grandma Series

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader & a very special guest

Summary: (Y/N)’s big day is made extra special by one of the most important people in her life.

Warnings: none

A/N: ok so there’s a lot of dancing happening here…I didn’t quite mean for it to be such a focal point, but I guess that’s what happens when you write fragments at a time. I hope it’s not overkill for y’all! I also wrote this envisioning it being set in modern times, but it could definitely be read in the PB period as well. Enjoy! :)

A/N 2: I’m sorry it took me sooo long to write this, Mar but I knew that I wanted to participate in this lovely celebration of yours. I hope you like it!!

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! — YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Comment/Message me if you’d like to be tagged!

“Darling you look wonderful,” the older woman said to her granddaughter. It was probably the fourth time she’d assured her of it. “Stop fussing with your dress,” she then swatted the younger woman’s hands down.

“But what if it’s…”

“But nothing,” (Y/N) was brushed off yet again, “you’re dress is perfect. You’re perfect,” the older woman said as she moved to stand behind her. “Let me fix the back now.”

(Y/N) conceded, allowing her grandmother to work on getting the back of her dress tightened. She stood still as the buttons and ties were done up, her smile widening with each second that passed. This was really happening…soon enough she’d be married.

Her eyebrows furrowed together at the feeling of something cool being draped around her neck. She looked down and noticed that a small, light blue locket was now resting against her chest. Tears welled up in her eyes immediately as she realized exactly which locket this was.

This locket had been in her family since the day that her grandfather draped it around her grandmother’s neck. Inside of it was still a picture of the couple in their younger days. The love that was present between them in that photo still remained all of these years later. (Y/N) hoped that she’d have a love like that with the man she would soon vow to spend the rest of her life with.

“Gram…” she trailed off, getting choked up as she turned to look at the older woman.

“It’ll be your something blue,” her grandmother smiled back at her, “you wear it beautifully.”

“Thank you for allowing me to wear it,” (Y/N) said, wrapping her arms around the other woman then. “You know it’s always been one of my favorite pieces of yours,” she added once they pulled away from each other.

“Maybe I’ll get you one of your own then,” the older woman thought aloud, “you can add a photo of you and Thomas into it.”

The saying of her fiancé’s name was enough to set off butterflies in the bride-to-be’s stomach. She couldn’t help the little giddy dance she did before her grandmother took hold of her arms and squeezed them gently.

“Everything is ready for you now, (Y/N),” the event coordinator announced as she entered the dressing room.

(Y/N) acknowledged the statement before she turned back to her grandmother. The older woman instantly noticed the fact that nerves were seeping into her granddaughter’s features. She wouldn’t let them take over. “Let’s get you married,” she announced, sqeezing the younger woman’s arms once more before she led her out of the dressing room.

(Y/N) met with her mother and father in the lobby, accepting both of their arms so that they could help walk her down the aisle. She sent one last beaming smile to her grandmother, who waved at her before she entered the main area of the chapel to take her seat.

Tommy and (Y/N) found themselves on the dance floor directly after the wedding party introductions were made. They both knew that they’d share their first dance as a way to kick the reception off into full swing. A little bit of a calm before the storm, (Y/N) was calling it.

She enjoyed being held close by her husband. Even though all of their guests’ eyes were on them, she truly felt like she and Tommy were the only two people in the room.

“I’m happy all of that’s over,” Tommy mumbled into her ear, his cheek pressed against hers as they slowly swayed.

(Y/N) just had to pull her face away to see him clearly, her eyes slightly widened. “Are you saying you didn’t enjoy our wedding ceremony, Thomas Shelby?” she asked, feigning shock.

Tommy’s lips tugged up into a smirk upon seeing her expression. “Oh I enjoyed it, love,” he assured her, tilting his head to the side and grimacing slightly before he finished his statement, “the attention of our families, not so much.”

A breath of a laugh left (Y/N)’s lips as she ran her hand down the lapel of his suit jacket. “For a man who thrives off of power and attention I must say that I’m quite surprised to hear that.”

“I would’ve been happy with it being just you and I, eloping and then telling our families after the fact.”

“I don’t think our families would have appreciated that,” she commented with a smile.

“Even better,” he grinned, leaning in and pressing his lips to hers.

“Cake time!” (Y/N)’s mother exclaimed, prompting everyone to turn their attention to the newlyweds where they stood by their wedding cake. It was quite simple, a three-tiered cake that had silver and gold accents throughout its floral decorations.

Tommy and (Y/N) took hold of the cutting knife and together cut a piece of the cake from its bottom tier. Tommy held the plate between the two of them after making sure that (Y/N) had a fork.

“Clean or messy?” he asked, his words quiet enough so that only (Y/N) heard them.

“Clean…” she trailed off, raising her eyebrows and sending him a look that he immediately took as something along the lines of ‘messy later’.

“Cheeky,” he commented, winking at her before they both got a forkful of the cake.

“Whenever you’re ready!” her mom called, making the two remember that their party guests were still crowded around them. If there was one thing that (Y/N) and Tommy had down, it was that they were able to make each other feel as though they were the only people in the room.

The room broke out in applause as they cleanly placed the forkful of cake into each others mouth, and (Y/N) was easily able to distinguish Arthur’s wolf whistle amongst the cheers when Tommy leaned in and kissed her.

It was a bit later in the evening when (Y/N) saw that her grandmother was finally free. She’d been playing the role of social butterfly all night, meshing with Tommy’s family naturally. This may be the only time she was alone, so (Y/N) wasn’t going to wait a moment longer. “I’m going to go have a dance with gram, if that’s alright,” she told Tommy, making to leave the small group conversation they’d been pulled into.

“Go ‘head,” Tommy answered, sending her off with a soft smile.

“Shall we dance?” (Y/N) asked her grandmother as she approached her from the side.

“Oh!” the older woman exclaimed, surprised by the sudden voice. Her surprised expression quickly fizzled into a smile when she noticed who was beside her. “Of course, darling,” she hastily agreed, allowing her granddaughter to take her of her hand and lead her onto the dance floor.

“I see that you’re getting along with Tommy’s family fine,” (Y/N) made conversation as they swayed to the soft song.

“Swimmingly,” her grandmother smiled, glancing off to find Tommy, who was now talking with one of his brothers. “He’s good for you, (Y/N),” she added, looking back to her granddaughter.

“He is,” the younger woman agreed, smiling as she also snuck a glance over where her husband was. Her smile widened as she looked at her grandmother once more. “Thank you for all that you’ve done to help me today, gram,” she said.

“I want only the best for my granddaughter,” the older woman responded, her smile matching (Y/N)’s.

The sound of a throat being cleared made them both look to the side. Tommy was standing there, wearing a smile that made butterflies erupt in (Y/N)’s stomach. “May I steal her for a dance?” he asked, not addressing either of the ladies in particular.

“Of course,” (Y/N)’s grandmother immediately answered, stepping to the side so that he be able to take his bride’s hand.

“No, you,” he clarified, holding his hand out to the older woman.

“Really?” surprise was evident in her voice, “what a gentleman he is,” she then said to her granddaughter.

Tommy winked at his bride before he led her grandmother out onto the dance floor.

(Y/N) had to take a moment as she watched them begin to dance slowly. She quickly realized how grateful she was for those two people swaying out on the floor. She was grateful for Tommy; a man who she could love deeply and be loved deeply by. Those outside of their circle may not think that Tommy Shelby was capable of a love like that, but that was the Tommy Shelby that (Y/N) has the pleasure of knowing.

She was also grateful for her grandmother; a woman who was truly the cornerstone of her family. A woman who taught (Y/N) how to be the woman she is take. Her grandmother was truly special, and (Y/N) knew that without her, she wouldn’t know where she’d be.

MASTERLIST

Postnote: it ended rather abruptly there…I didn’t mean for that, but I’ve been hanging onto it for a looong time and wanted it to finally be out in the world. It’s also only loosely edited because…well I wanted to just get it posted already.

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21

@mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @notyour-valentine @theshelbyslimited

@peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss

@alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl

@emotionalcadaver @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife

@anotherblinder @cillmequick @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @garrison-girl-08

@insanitybyanothername @depxiety @justrainandcoffee @dragons-are-my-favorite @forgottenpeakywriter

@cljordan-imperium @brummiereader @red-riding-wood @everythingelseisextra @little-diable

@thomashelbyswife @shaddixlife @ryecosse @padfootdaredmetoo

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby one shot #tommy shelby oneshot #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby fanfiction #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders x y/n #peaky blinders x you #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders one shot #peaky blinders oneshot #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fic #fanfiction #fanfic #k makes moodboards

[deathsbestgirl]

So Never Again. Just saw this post and the way she looks up at him there is on a level with Mulder’s famous Fallen Angel eyes and his reaction to her? He doesn't melt? He chooses violence and being a dick? Please tell me why.

i LOVE this question because it is so easy to see it from scully's perspective. it's her episode. but you really have to think about mulder's perspective.

for mulder, this seems out of nowhere, and in his mind she was extremely inattentive with his informant on a case he's taking seriously. he doesn't understand what she's really asking or what the problem is, and a big part of that is she doesn't exactly either. it's almost like she's blaming him for the stand still in her life, but at the same time wants to be seen & appreciated (in a way that she understands, can feel, can see). and i don't think she could have figured it out the way she needed to with mulder. she needed the safety of talking to a stranger, someone inconsequential to her life. (like there's no way she could have that "other fathers" conversation with him lol) so ed jerse is the one to give her that. (she does with ed what she can't yet do with mulder. something neither of them are ready for and she isn't brave enough to do yet. and like. idk i just think she needed this! regardless of mulder lol)

like: "this isn't about you. or maybe it is, indirectly. i don't know." the one thing she got right is "i don't know" lol so of course mulder is confused!!

if you place leonard betts first, she's contemplating what she's leaving behind. has she had any impact working on the x files? on mulder? who is going to remember her? what evidence of her life will be left? in that office...it looks like she's had very little effect. (but i do not subscribe to this one.)

if never again is first, which i like better lollll (it makes more sense to me. i understand why people like lb first, it's more clear cut. it puts a reason behind her behavior. but i just don't think it quite fits. scully literally doesn't know what's wrong. if she was already worried about cancer, i think it would come across differently. but she's frustrated & confused and she wants for something she can't admit, express, pinpoint, articulate? idk what word i'm looking for lol) scully's just hit that point in her pattern again, her cycle...it took her four years, and after some rough cases (paper hearts – she couldn't help mulder despite how she tried, el mundo gira – a dead end. and idk, so many of their cases. and she's always wrong, he always does the crazy thing, he's always hurt)...well anyway, at the end he's still asking "all because i didn't get you a desk?" he still isn't quite understanding, until she says it's her life and he almost says "yes but it's become mine." he doesn't say it, they sit in silence, and in leonard betts, he tells her she did a good job & should be proud. all his little jokes like he's trying to make her laugh, to get back to their usual banter. because he wants to make her smile. so he understood at least a little by leonard betts. but they also come to a silent understanding. i just love the way kae talks about it. and i think the end is kind of the explanation for the beginning. the end is the real answer to the whole episode, and what it took to get there...and this post here, kae just understands him and talks about him in a way that i feel. it's exactly what i see in a way i could never articulate. (and she does my favorite thing!!! connects different moments. the characterization is so good.) and she has such a special insight to both of them, different patterns, but to me two sides of the same coin.

and so, either way, at the beginning of never again, he's completely thrown because he doesn't know. this is when their bad verbal communication and personal issues/insecurities/fears take hold. they're both so good at taking too much responsibility.

we're seeing into scully's mind a bit, but we aren't really seeing into his. but he's afraid, he doesn't want her to leave (something he's feared for a long time), he thinks space is the answer to whatever's going on. but he's also kinda needy and he can't just say that. so he calls her and they misunderstand each other again and she makes a date. he isn't trying to be an ass but he's scared & defensive, and he gets like that when she makes him nervous. like whenever she believes (beyond the sea, revelations, all souls, en ami). it feels like that to me. he's afraid, but this time he thinks he's the problem, their work is the problem. and he kinda said the worst thing he could say to her at that moment. "you were just assigned" — he has no idea how she understood that, how it hurts her. (and she's not thinking about how he means it, what he thinks/feels/fears.) and really, it's because she sucks at just saying the thing as much as he does. it takes them a long time to work out their direct communication. their unspoken communication, the way they work on their cases doesn't translate to their personal relationship. as intimate as their partnership is, working through their own issues takes time and it's those things that hinder them moving forward for so long. ya know?

i think @randomfoggytiger talks about it beautifully here — in depth essay on never again. here they touch on mulder's fear/walls & scully's insecurities/needs. it's a journey!! which they talk about here. and i forget what this one was (lol) but i'm sure i saved it for a reason: a little master post. i love the way foggy breaks things down, especially visually. it's something i could never do.

i also reblogged some other never again posts. not completely on topic but it's all connected!! (you can definitely go through my never again tag to see more probably too!)

#calimanc #asks #never again #dana scully #fox mulder #LITERALLY I DONT SAY ANYTHING #READ THE LINKED POSTS #lmaooooooo #my brain is an ouroboros tbh #mulder and scully #the x files

[casurlaub]

Why Wolfstar makes sense canonically

Call me delusional but welcome to my TED talk

Most of this has been said repeatedly by others over the years. I don't mean to steal anybody's credit, so if you feel like I have, please reach out.

This is me 'defending' Wolfstar, I'm not hating on another ship here and I won't engage in a discussion about which ship makes more sense. I'm just trying to elaborate why I can 'see' Wolfstar - even from a canon perspective.

I'm trying (and hoping to succeed) to be respectful and I'm not attacking a specific person here. This is just a general post with all my thoughts on the matter and all the arguments I've heard against it.

Brace yourself because this is going to get really really long, and there'll be a lot of quotes of the original source material.

The original source material

I feel that many people who claim the ship doesn't make sense fail to see that we're in this fandom because it did make sense to us after reading the books. The fandom exists, because many people saw it. Because it's possible to see it. It's not the other way around.

The thing with Wolfstar is, that it's all in the 'show not tell' which I suppose makes it 'easy' to overlook. Obviously it is, with the author not intending the ship - I'm not saying wolfstar is canon, but it makes a lot of sense with what we have in canon.

Their nonverbal communication

They have a lot of nonverbal communication going on, which shows a great level of understanding for one another. But they're not only able to read one another, they're actively (and both of them) communicating via eye contact - a lot. They're searching for the other person's eyes and are passing along 'thoughts', are reaching silent understandings just like that. That hints at a great emotional connection.

Let's do that 'chronologically':

It doesn't take more than a single look from Sirius to convince Remus that he is innocent. At this point Remus doesn't know shit about what really happened. He admits so himself later on, he keeps asking Sirius questions later on. And yet again he's so ready to believe Sirius,

Professor Lupin came hurtling into the room, his face bloodless, his wand raised an ready. His eyes flickered over Ron, lying on the floor, over Hermione, cowering next to the door, to Harry, standing there with his wand covering Black, and then to Black himself, crumpled and bleeding at Harry's feet. 'Expelliarmus!' Lupin shouted. [...] Lupin caught them all defty then moved into the room, staring at Black, who still had Crookshanks lying protectively across his chest. [...] Then Lupin spoke, in an odd voice, a voice that shook with some suppressed emotion. 'Where is he, Sirius?' [...] Black's face was quite expressionless. For a few seconds, he didn't move at all. Then, very slowly, he raised his empty hand, and pointed straight at Ron. 'But then… Lupin muttered, staring at Black so intently it seemed he was trying to read his mind. “'Why hasn’t he shown himself before now? Unless...-' Lupin's eyes suddenly widened, as though he was seeing something beyond Black, something none of the rest could see, '-unless he was the one… unless you switched… without telling me?' Very slowly, his sunken gaze never leaving Lupin’s face, Black nodded.  [...] Lupin lowered his wand. Next moment, he had walked to Black's side, seized his hand, pulled hm to his feet so that Crookshanks fell to the floor, and embraced Black like a brother.

And then he says, still without having received any explanation, just like that,

'I haven't been Sirius' friend for twelve years, but I am now... let me explain...'

They are so in synch with their actions without even having to talk about it; they're forming a united front (I'm getting to that later on), they're again reaching a silent understanding just by looking at one another (again),

Both Black and Lupin strode forwards, seized Pettigrew's shoulders and threw him backwards onto the floor. [...] Black and Lupin stood shoulder to shoulder, wands raised. [...] Black and Lupin both looked staggered. [...] Black and Lupin were looking at each other. Then, with one movement, they lowered their wands.

I think it's also important to note that they do not just look, but look to check for each other's opinion on the matter. Harry asks them not to murder Peter and of course they listen to him, but they first look at each other as if checking to be on the same page. So - they've just reunited after over twelve years and immediately take the other person into consideration (I'm getting to that later on).

Then in OotP there's the famous fourty line stare where Remus is just intently staring at Sirius while he and Molly are arguing, as opposed to the others who are watching the conversation (who does that?),

'Lupin, who had been about to take a sip of whine, lowered his goblet slowly, looking wary' [...] Lupin's eyes were fixed on Sirius. [fourty lines of back and forth between Molly and Sirius] 'Personally,' said Lupin quietly, looking away from Sirius at last.

And it's not just Remus doing it. It's mutual. They act like a unit (again, getting to that). They care for each other's opinion and they do know each other so well that a single fleeting look is enough for them to check in with the other,

He [Harry] thought he saw Sirius and Lupin exchange the most fleeting of looks before Sirius answered [...]

And again when Harry contacts them via floo to discuss Snape's Worst Memory, they do it again,

They exchanged a look of great surprise [...] Lupin glanced sideways at Sirius, then said, [...]

They communicate via touch, too:

Black's wand arm rose, but Lupin seized him around the wrist, gave him a warning look, then turned again to Pettigrew, his voice light and casual [...]

So - Remus does not only convince headstrong Sirius to back down nonverbally just by looking and touching him, no I think it's also important to note that Remus, who isn't a 'touch person' (he's awkward when comforting Molly, he (as far as I recall) never hugs Harry, always just shakes hands), doesn't even seem to think twice about touching Sirius. No, he immediately pulls him into a hug, then is restraining him physically when he tries to launch at Scabbers, then continues to communicate via looks and touch. After twelve years of separation he's immediately comfortable enough to initiate it.

They're super in synch - also with how they say things

It carries through the whole of OotP, really. Sirius says something just for Remus to say something immediately afterwards or the other way around. When they're together in a scene, the vibe is always them carrying the conversation together, one adding to the other's thoughts.

It already starts in PoA,

'They didn't say what they thought they saw !' said Black savagely [...]. 'Everyone thought Sirius killed Peter,', said Lupin nodding.

But in OotP it's taken to whole new levels. It's too much to put here, but in that conversation where they tell Harry about the Order it's basically:

said Sirius / said Lupin /said Sirius /said Lupin... throughout the whole scene. One of them says something and the other one adds. And again. And again. And again.

And it happens again (though not to that extent) before Harry's Ministry hearing. In the Boggart scene. And then again when they discuss 'Snape's Worst Memory'.

They're also portrayed as being close to one another (distance-wise) repeatedly throughout OotP.

Like when Remus is there chances are Sirius isn't far. That doesn't have to mean anything of course but the frequency puts out a certain vibe to me,

'I said - shut - UP!', roared the man [Sirius] and with a stupendous effort he and Lupin managed to force the curtains closed again

Honestly, I think it's kind of funny that even when there're a number of people the two of them are always mentioned right after one another. Before Harry's ministry hearing, at Ron and Hermione's party, when Mrs Weasley is battling the Boggart, in the Department of Mysteries,

He pushed it open and saw Mr and Mrs Weasley, Sirius, Lupin and Tonks sitting at [...] Sirius, Lupin, Tonks and Kingsley Shacklebolt were already there Lupin had come running into the room, closely followed by Sirius [...] [...] and five more people sprinted into the room: Sirius, Lupin, Moody, Tonks and Kingsley.

And then when Harry floos to see Sirius after he has seen 'Snape's Worst Memory' Remus is there again-, casually sitting at the table and reading and Harry mistakes him for Sirius even (because he's looking so at home?). But Remus immediately knows where to fetch Sirius and comes back with him quickly after. That just has such a domestic vibe to me.

[...] long wooden table where a man sat poring over a piece of parchment. [...] 'Sirius'? [...] It was not Sirius, it was Lupin. [...] 'I'll call him,' said Lupin. [...] And Harry saw Lupin hurry out of the kitchen. [...] Lupin returned with Sirius at his heels moments after.

Remus and his relationship to his friends

Remus mentions Sirius first when he speaks about his friends, although in every other occasion it's always James who's mentioned first. He always says 'James and Sirius'/'your father and Sirius'; it's always James first, Sirius second, but when he's talking about him finding friends for the first time in his life, it's suddenly Sirius first,

'I had friends, three great friend. Sirius Black... Peter Pettigrew... and, of course, your father, Harry - James Potter.'

I don't think that necessarily means anything though, but I felt like adding it just for the sake of it... (I know the author stated James supported Remus after Hogwarts, not Sirius, implying they were (always) closer, but - and that's just my general personal approach - I don't care much for what she said in any Interviews/on pottermore/wizardingworld.com or whatever. She's contradicting herself so often there (see below). To me it's always books first and the books show that Remus and Sirius are close as adults whereas we don't have much information about Remus/James).

Then Remus is very obviously operating on double standards when it comes to Sirius as opposed to Peter. In his conversation with Harry it's insinuated that he doesn't want Sirius, who he believes to have betrayed Lily and James and killed Peter and twelve others, to receive the Dementor's kiss.

'He deserves it,' he [Harry] said suddenly. 'You think so?' said Lupin lightly. 'Do you really think anyone deserves that?

Yet later when he learns the truth he has no qualms whatsoever about killing Peter. He doesn't stop Sirius, he doesn't hesitate, he's joinng in. Why's this so different suddenly? Selling away your friends lives and framing your other friend (Peter) isn't worse than selling away your friends' lives and killing your other friend (allegedly Sirius), is it? So if their 'alleged' crimes are comparable, why is Remus acting different about Peter's than he is about Sirius's?

'Shall we kill him together?' 'Yes, I think s,' said Lupin grimly.

It's not about him thinking the Dementor's kiss was worse than death either. Because he as no qualms to bring Peter to the Dementors when Harry stops them from murdering him. So... why the double standards again?

Sirius/Remus also so do 'relationship behaviour'. I mean the whole nonverbal communication already, but also,

'Sirius, sit down.' [...] Sirius sank slowly back into his chair, his face white.

'[...] I think Molly's right, Sirius. We've said enough.' Sirius half-shrugged, but did not argue. 'I'm coming up there to have a word with Snape!' said Sirius forcefully, and he actually made to stand up, but Lupin wrenched him back down again. 'If anyone's going to tell Snape it will be me!' he said firmly

Remus understands Sirius and is looking out for him

Remus gets Sirius even after over twelve years of being separated. Sirius is impatient in PoA, because he - finally - wants to take revenge on Peter. Remus not only sees that but tries to stop him. To me it reads as if he knows that Harry's opinion is important to Sirius, will be, once he sees clearly again and that he doesn't want him to destroy his chances with Harry by acting too impulsive. Because his intervention isn't rooted in his concern for Peter's life obviously, because he's ready to kill Peter once they explained everything,

'Sirius, NO!, Lupin yelled, launching himself forwards and dragging Black away from Ron again. “WAIT! You can’t do it just like that - they need to understand - we’ve got to explain -“ 'We can explain afterwards!,' snarled Black, trying to throw Lupin off, one hand still clawing the air as the tried to reach Scabbers, who was squealing like a piglet, scratching Ron’s face and neck as he tried to escape.  'They’ve - got - a - right - to - know - everything!,' Lupin panted, still trying to restrain Black. 'Ron’s kept him as a pet! There are parts of it even I don’t understand! And Harry - you owe Harry the truth'

And then again he's stepping in when Sirius is not doing himself any favor with Harry (again),

'And why did he fake this death?' he [Harry] said furiously. 'Because he knew you were about to kill him like you killed my parents.' 'No', said Lupin. 'Harry-' 'And now you've come to finish him off!' 'Yes, I have,' said Black, with an evil look at Scabbers. 'Then I should've let Snape take you!' Harry shouted. 'Harry,', said Lupin hurriedly, 'don't you see? All this time we've thought Sirius betrayed your parents, and Peter tracked him down - but it was the other way around, don't you see? Peter betrayed your mother and father - Sirius tracked Peter down-'

And then Remus is stepping in - again - when it's getting too much for Sirius,

'Harry... I as good as killed them', he [Sirius] croaked. 'I persuaded Lily and James to change to Peter at the last moment [...] I was scared. I set out for your parents' house straight away. And when I saw their house, destroyed and their bodies - I realized what Peter must'v done. What I'd done.' His voice broke. He turned away 'Enough of this,' said Lupin, and there was a steely note in his voice Harry had never heard before.

And in this scene in OotP he's also looking out for him,

'I'm coming up there to have a word with Snape!' said Sirius forcefully, and he actually made to stand up, but Lupin wrenched him back down again. 'If anyone's going to tell Snape it will be me!' he said firmly

They're forming a united front - not once, but it's a recurring motive.

Both are ready to handle the whole Peter thing together. They haven't seen each other for over twelve years, they didn't part on good terms and still they're immediately including the other. Even Sirius who's (in this situation) either failing to see how his behavior isn't doing him any good with building a relationshio with Harry or is incapable of stopping himself, is including Remus,

'Ready, Sirius' said Lupin [...] 'Together?' he [Sirius] said quietly. ‘I think so', said Lupin [...]

And then again, they're ready to kill him together, too,

'Of course,' said Black, and the ghost of a grin flitted across his gaunt face. He, too, began rolling up his sleeves. 'Shall we kill him together?' 'Yes, I think so,' said Lupin grimly.

And also non-verbally they're an united front (see above),

Both Black and Lupin strode forwards, seized Pettigrew's shoulders and threw him backwards onto the floor. [...] Black and Lupin stood shoulder to shoulder, wands raised. [...] Black and Lupin both looked staggered. [...] Black and Lupin were looking at each other. Then, with one movement, they lowered their wands.

Then they're portrayed as 'shoulder to shoulder' (figuratively speaking) in other situations as well. Remus is taking Sirius's side in the argument with Molly although he has no business doing so, although he usually prefers to stay in the background. He's usually keeping quiet, usually not speaking up - Molly even thinks she's getting an ally when he joins the conversation,

'Personally,' said Lupin quietly, looking away from Sirius at last, as Mrs Weasley turned quickly to him, hopeful that finally she was about to get an ally. 'I think it better that Harry gets the facts - not all the facts, Molly, but the general picture - from us, rather than a garbled version from ... others.' [...] 'Molly you're not the only person at this table who cares about Harry', said Lupin sharply.

Remus is always taking Sirius's Side - he keeps making excuses for James and Sirius's behavior at Hogwarts, he keeps playing it down - even as an adult. He's damn biased, he doesn't move an inch - as long as they're in public at least,

'Sirius thought it would be - er - amusing, to tell Snape all he had to do was prod the knot on the tree-trunk with a long stick and he’d be able to get in after me.'

'a schoolboy grudge' [Remus to Snape]

Lupin looked sideways at Sirius, then aid, 'Look, Harry, what you've got to understand is that your father and Sirius were the best in the school at whatever they did - everyone thought they were the height of cool - if they sometimes got a bit carried away-' 'If we were sometimes arrogant little berks, you mean',, said Sirius. Lupin smiled.

And I think it's important to point out that Remus does this even though it's not his real stance on the matter,

'[...] it would be - er - amusing, to tell Snape [...]' 'We were in the same year, you know and we - er - didn’t like each other very much. He especially disliked James. Jealous, I think, of James’s talent on the Quidditch pitch…'

The 'er' and 'I think' is a speech pattern of his that indicates he's not being completely honest/doesn't truly believe what he says. ('So he - er - accidentally let slip that I am a werewolf this morning at breakfast.' / 'Er - perhaps it will be best if we don’t revive him until we’re safely back in the castle.). He doesn't truly think they were as harmless as he's portraying it ('Did I ever have the guts to tell you I thought you were ought of order?').

So - united front on the outside, no matter what. But it's insinuated that behind closed doors Remus is taking a different stance. He's blaming himself for not stepping in with the whole Snape thing, because that's just who he is - blaming himself for everything (sometimes rightfully so, sometimes not) While I do think he didn't say anything outwardly, there must have been something that made it clear to the others that Remus didn't approve of their behavior,

'Of course he was a bit of an idiot,' said Sirius bracingly, 'we were all idiots! Well - Moony not so much', he said fairly, looking at Lupin.  But Remus shook his head. 'Did I ever tell you to lay off Snape?”' he said. 'Did I ever have the guts to tell you I thought you were out of order?'  'Yeah, well', said Sirius, 'you made us feel ashamed of ourselves sometimes… that was something….' 

Remus is suddenly living at Grimmauldplace

So at the end of GoF Remus obviously has his own place (or is living with his father again, although he didn't want to because he didn't want to disturb his quiet life according to the author? But then again I don't care what she said on Pottermore).

'Sirius, I need you to set off at once. You are to alert Remus Lupin, Arabella Figg, Mundungus Fletcher —the old crowd. Lie low at Lupin's for a while, I will contact you there.'

So that's at the end of June. And then at the beginning of August when Harry arrives in London, just six weeks later, he's living at Grimmauldplace already,

Lupin, who was staying at the house with Sirius but who left it for long periods to do mysterious work for the Order [...]

And then rhey give away joint Christmas presents,

Sirius and Lupin had given Harry a set of excellent books entitled Practical Defensive Magic and its Use Against the Dark Arts, which had superb, moving colour illustrations of all the counter-jinxes and hexes it described.

They act differently with / because of one another

Sometimes they even defy their core character traits.

Remus's primal drive in everything he does is to be liked/fit in/be seen as good by others (and not as the monster he sees himself as deep down). He's even sometimes manipulative and hypocritical because of it. For example he doesn't tell Dumbledore about Sirius's animagus form because of it (or at least it's part of the reason, or he believes it to be). But when Snape enters the Shrieking Shack he doesn't care about himself getting into trouble for - allegedly - helping a supposed mass murderer break into the castle and everything. Even though he stated before that he didn't tell Dumbledore about Sirius for fear of losing his respect, all he cares about suddenly is Sirius's safety:

'Severus, you're making a mistake,' said Lupin urgently. 'You haven't heard everything - I can explain - Sirius is not here to kill Harry-' [...] 'You fool,' said Lupin softly. 'Is a schoolboy grudge worth putting an innocent man back inside Azkaban.'

Also Remus is able to get through to Sirius even in a state of utmost agitation. Sirius is trying to murder Peter and Remus stops him and Sirius listens, even though his goal is finally in reach. Although, up to that point, he didn't exactly act very sensible (slashing the Fat Lady, breaking into Harry's dorm with a knife),

'All right then,' Black said, without taking his eyes off the rat. “Tell them whatever you like. But make it quick, Remus. I want to commit the murder I was imprisoned for…' 

And he continues to listen to Remus, Remus continues to be able to get through to him even when he's getting emotional. And Remus, who's always trying to appear mild (for fear of being perceived as aggressive which he can not afford because of the werewolf-thing), who even spoke quietly before in that very same conversation, is losing parts of his composure when Sirius is attacked,

“Molly, you’re not the only person at this table who cares about Harry”, said Lupin sharply. “Sirius, sit down.” Molly’s lower lip was trembling. Sirius sank slowly back into his chair, his face white.

Remus is letting loose around him (and the other marauders). He quips,

'Did you like question ten, Moony?' asked Sirius  as they emerged to the Entrance Hall. 'Loved it,' said Lupin briskly. 'Give five signs that identify the werewolf. Excellent question.'  'D’you think you managed to get all the signs?,' said James in tones of mock concern.  'Think I did,' said Lupin seriously, as they joined the crowd thronging around the front doors eager to get out into the sunlit grounds. 'One: he’s sitting on my chair. Two: he’s wearing my clothes. Three: his name’s Remus Lupin.'

'Well, as everyone thinks I’m a mad mass-murderer and the Ministry’s put a ten thousand Galleon price on my head, I can hardly stroll up the street and start handing out leaflets, can I?,' said Sirius restlessly.  'And I’m not a very popular dinner guest with most of the community,' said Lupin. “It’s an occupational hazard of being a werewolf.' 

[As @remusawoooo put it: let's form a comedy duo <3]

And Remus is obviously very comfortable with Sirius. He's always restraining himself, Harry narrates his way of speaking as 'mild' or 'quiet' so many times, but apparently he's different when he's alone with Sirius. That hints at a great level of trust. He doesn't bother to keep up his act around him, because he doesn't worry about being perceived as mild with him and just speaks his truth ( e.g. about Umbridge). He can just be and oh boy, thinking about Remus's character that has to be the greatest fucking deal ever.

'I know she's a nasty piece of work, though - you should hear Remus talk about her.'

And then Remus, who is so good at appearing restrained, is losing his composure when Sirius dies,

'He can’t come back, Harry,' said Lupin, his voice breaking as he struggled to contain Harry. 'He can’t come back, because he’s d-' [...] Lupin's face was pale. [...] Lupin turned away from the archway as he spoke. It sounded as if every word were causing him pain.

In this moment Harry himself is in huge (emotional) pain, but he still notices - must've been rather obvious, then?

Their mutual respect for one another

So, I've read how Sirius wouldn't/couldn't possibly respect Remus / see him as an equal. How they wouldn't fully 'trust' one another. No matter if you 'see' Wolfstar or not, that is just plain wrong.

Sirius respected Remus already as a teenager. He (and James, too), cared for his opinion, otherwise they wouldn't have been affected by whatever he thought about their bullying. But they were ('you made us feel ashamed of ourselves sometimes').

The whole Sirius thinking Remus was the spy thing also shows that he respected him. He saw him as capable - not just as capable of betraying his friends, but also as a capable person in general, a person with an own agenda, not just a copy of him or James. He didn't see Peter like that.

Sirius lets Remus take the lead in the scene in the Shrieking Shack even though the whole taking revenge on Peter/avenging James (James!) thing is most important to him. He does not only let himself be swayed by Remus and lowers his wand instead of killing Peter right after they forced him to transform, he also let's Remus lead the conversation. To me that shows a huge level of trust. He only joins in after Peter accused him of having learned tricks from Voldemort. But before that it's just Remus talking for some paragraphs?

And Sirius listens to Remus not only in that scene, but also in OotP. First he sits down again in his argument with Molly simply because Remus told him so. Then he's waiting for Remus to come back to the room before he even starts telling Harry about the Order business.

Lupin hurried of to the portrait to restore calm. It was only after he had returned, closing the kitchen door behind him and taking hs seat at the table again, that Sirius spoke.

Then he just accepts when Remus says they've said enough without arguing,

'[...] I think Molly's right, Sirius. We've said enough.' Sirius half-shrugged, but did not argue.

Headstrong Sirius, who's even challenging Dumbledore's orders by insisting on telling Harry stuff, who's challenging Dumbledore's orders by accompanying Harry to King's Cross (as Padfoot), who's willing to challenge Dumbledore's orders when he suggests meeting up at Hogsmeade (as Padfoot). But Remus says we've said enough and he is just like 'okay'. Remus says 'sit down' and despite him having been attacked personally he just does. He clearly respects him a great deal.

On a more subtle note (and maybe I'm reading too much into the source material here, but it makes sense to me)... The Prank was not a big deal in canon. At least not initially. But adult Remus tells us in PoA,

'That was still really dangerous! Running around in the dark with a werewolf! What if you’d given the others the slip and bitten somebody?' [Hermione] 'A thought that still haunts me,' said Remus heavily. 'And there were near misses, many of them. We laughed about them afterwards. We were young, thoughtless - carried away with our own cleverness. I sometimes felt guilty about betraying Dumbledore’s trust, of course… he had admitted me to Hogwarts when no other headmaster would have done so and he had no idea I was breaking the riles he had set down for my own and others’ safety.[...]'

And he's still making excuses for the prank in this scene and Sirius still says how, 'it served him [Snape] right'

But then in OotP when they discuss Snape's Worst Memory with Harry, Sirius obviously has some introspection and to me it easily reads as if they had talked about that behavior - as adults,

'I'm not proud of it,' said Sirius quickly. Lupin looked sideways at Sirius, then said, 'Look, Harry [...] if they sometimes got a bit carried away-' 'If we were sometimes arrogant little berks you mean,' said Sirius. Lupin smiled.

He cuts him off and to me it reads like, 'okay Remus, you can stop making excuses for me'. Maybe adult Sirius came to that conclusion himself with being out of Azkaban for almost two years at this point. He's certainly emotionally intelligent enough to do so. But then again, he's incredibly blind when it comes to Snape in general, even as an adult, so I'm not so sure about that.

Other things

Sirius was lounging in his chair at his ease, tilting it back on two legs. He was very good-looking, his dark hair fell into his eyes with a sort of casual elegance neither James's nor Harry's could ever have achieved, and a girl sitting behind him was eyeing him hopefully, though he didn't seem to have noticed. And two seats along from this girl - Harry's stomach gave another pleasurable squirm - was Remus lupin.

I personally think that's over-interpreting the source material, but I've read someone pointing out how it reads like,

'Hormonal male teen doesn't care for the attention of a teenage girl, why could that be, why could that be... oh, here's why: ...'

(let's not forget about asexual people though)

The Original source material getting ridiculously obvious without the author intending so

Okay, so I personally don't set great store by this, but I think it's funny:

Their names being the biggest cliche ever

Remus 'Moony' Lupin and Sirius ' the Dog Star' Black. Moon and stars, come on. All this from an author who's taking the name game to ridiculous levels. (I mean Remus Lupin = Wolf-son Wolf?, even Lyall = Wolf. And Sirius = the Dog Star Black. And he's a black dog.... really?)

Nearly matching Patroni

They have (supposedly) nearly matching Patroni. Remus's is a wolf while Sirius's is supposedly a dog because it usually aligns with the caster's Animagus form. Anyhow, it's supposed to reflect the caster's personality. Matching Patroni are a huge deal in HP. And a wolf and a dog are pretty damn close, meaning that even if they're not 'matching' technically speaking, they (the caster) are pretty damn close character-wise?

But what about...?

All your 'proof' doesn't necessarily mean they're a thing romantically

No, that's right. I'm not saying wolfstar is canon, I'm just saying it makes sense, even from a canon perspective. Obviously the author didn't intend them to be canon. My point is that it's no stretch to read them as being a thing (whatever that means - being together or just having some sort of unresolved feelings) even in canon.

I'm aware that the things I pointed out don't mean much if you look at them individually. I agree. Like, of course joint presents don't have to mean anything, maybe Sirius is just being 'nice', is including Remus. But it's the sum that give off that vibe—at least to me.

But hey, I'm not trying to convince anyone of Wolfstar; I'm just trying to elaborate. I'd be happy if we could all agree that, no matter any romantic feelings, they were very close friends. Because that, as I hope to have pointed out, is definitely canon.

They don't make sense because of the prank

First - they don't have necessarily to have been a thing back in fifth year already.

Second - the prank was no big deal in canon. I've already ranted about this in another post, so I won't repeat myself here. But canonically Remus didn't make a scene. Like it or not, think it's in character or not, but he didn't.

But Sirius disregards Remus's feelings in 'Snape's worst memory

So this is, what we're talking about, right,

'I’m bored,' said Sirius. 'Wish it was full moon.'  'You might', said Lupin darkly.

Again, they don't have to have necessarily been a thing back in fifth year already. Most of the 'show' we get from the original source material is from when they're adults.

And: Sirius being flippant is just how he is, it's not unique to his relationship with Remus, it doesn't mean he disrespects Remus or anything. He's sarcastic with James in that very same scene, too, even though James had just been insulted and turned down by Lily in front of numerous bystanders (maybe not the nicest thing to do?).

'Bad luck, Prongs' [...] 'Reading between the lines I'd say she thinks you're a bit conceited, mate.'

We - as a fandom - are turning the full moons into a much bigger deal than they were - or at least than Remus wanted them to be. ('And they didn’t desert me at all. Instead they did something for me that would make my transformations not only bearable, but the best times of my life. They became Animagi.')

But Sirius thought Remus was the spy - they couldn't have been close in 1981

'Being close' is a matter of definition, like, I can be super hurt and disgusted by someone's behaviour and still the person can mean a lot to me. So I think it's possible that they cared for each other even though Sirius suspected Remus to be the spy. But in the sense of them 'emotionally getting' each other I definitely agree. But - even if they weren't close in 1981 - what does that say about their teenage years? Or about them past PoA? Right, nothing.

But Lily's letter didn't even mention Remus and Remus isn't standing with them in the Order photograph

See above.

But you don't just move past something like mistrusting each other so deeply

Maybe you don't. They did. Because they did, no matter what you think about wolfstar. Btw, Sirius is asking for Remus's forgiveness, so there's that for the whole 'he can't forgive him for not having him gotten out of Azkaban'-thing.

'Forgive me Remus', said Black. 'Not at all, Padfoot, old friend,' said Lupin, who was now rolling up his sleeves. 'And will you, in turn, forgive me for believing you were the spy?' 'Of course,' said Black, and the ghost of a grin flitted across his gaunt face.

The ghost of a grin. Yes, Sirius is obviously very resentful.

And even if they had a chat about it during 'Lie low at Lupin's', even if they worked through some old baggage - by the beginning of OotP they're definitely super casual with one another.

Their whole dynamic is super toxic... The mistrust and everything. That's not a healthy basis for anything

Unfortunately, being toxic doesn't stop people from being in a relationship. But I don't think they are toxic, not necessarily. While I agree that they definitely have issues (I don't see either of them being good at healthy communication; how were they supposed to learn? Besides, both of them have problematic character traits), I do think, in general, they treat each other with respect. And there's no evidence whatsoever for either of them holding grudges about the spy situation. I know people want Sirius to be resentful because they feel Remus deserves it for letting him 'rot' in Azkaban, but there's no evidence for that.

But Sirius didn't seek out Remus's help in PoA when he was after Peter

That would have been risky, wouldn't it? And I don't think there was much on Sirius's mind except for the revenge thing. Sirius is usually quite calm and way less dramatic than fanon makes him out to be. But he loses it completely with the whole Peter affair. I mean slashing the Fat Lady and acting like the mad mass murderer everyone thinks him to be by breaking into Harry's dorm with that knife? (Stupid and also super risky with no wand)

But Sirius isn't with Remus in GoF but rather lives in a cave

Yes, to be close to Harry. Because Harry is his top priority (see below). So what does that prove? He's rather with Harry than with Remus. Agreed. But it's not like he was roaming the UK instead of being at Remus's before. He was somewhere south, far far away to evade seizure. He only comes back because of Harry.

It's understandable, because he feels responsible for Harry (and perhaps guilty because he blames himself for James's death). He doesn't feel responsible for Remus, who is a grown man - and Remus's safety isn't at stake. His own safety is more important than just being with his friend/lover/whatever, but it's not more important than Harry's safety. I think that's a pretty healthy dynamic actually.

Harry doesn't notice so they can't be a thing

Harry is great at noticing some things. Others, not so much. For example Harry thinks Tonks is in love with Sirius, so so much for Harry's perceptiveness. The books being from Harry's perspective is part of the point of Wolfstar making sense.

What about James?

What about James? Is this a contest? No one says Sirius and James weren't best friends (I won't step into the shipping James/Sirius debate here, I respect the ship eve though it isn't my cup of tea). We all agree they were super close. We all agree they were inseparable and that Sirius was devastated about James's death. Following this line of argument Jily makes no sense either (as @myheadsgonenumb pointed out). People are capable of loving their partners (or loving someone unrequitedly or loving someone without realizing) and having a close best friend at the same time.

Plus, who's to say he wouldn't have been devastated if Remus had died, too? People have the ability to care deeply about more than one person (and again, it's not a contest)

BANG! Thin, snake-like cords burst from the end of Snape’s wand and twisted themselves around Lupin’s mouth, wrists and ankles; he overbalanced and fell to the floor, unable to move. With a roar of rage, Sirius started toward Snape, [...]

Yes, Sirius is obviously completely indifferent to what happens to Remus.

BUT it does annoy me that a lot of wolfstar fics are erasing James / are turning Remus into everything James was for Sirius. Like James was just a side character for.Sirius. That's unrealistic. Sirius needs James, Wolfstar or not.

But it's stated Sirius and James only cared for each others opinions, no one else's

Is it really? I've basically already tackled that one above, but, while I agree that they were most important to one another, Sirius himself says to Remus, 'Yeah, well. You made us feel ashamed of ourselves sometimes… that was something….'

What about Harry - the books state he was the most important person to Sirius (and vice versa), not Remus?

Agreed and again - is it a contest? That line of reasoning would mean that parents aren't capable of loving their partners because they have children.

But Sirius wouldn't be with someone who let Harry suffer at his aunt's / who allegedly endangered Harry's life in PoA by withholding information from Dumbledore...

He wouldn't? The backbone of this argument is that Sirius would not trust/forgive someone who did these things. And wether you ship wolfstar or not, that is just canonically wrong. They were canonically close in OotP (see quotes above) - if you're negating this you're being delusional.

I don't think I have to deep-dive into Sirius's character here because it's obvious that he didn't hold a grudge against Remus.

Remus is too much of a loser for Sirius to want him as a partner

I feel like that's pretty much the same argument, so it get's pretty much the same answer: He wouldn't?

The backbone of this argument is that Sirius was too cool for Remus, had not enough respect for Remus, which is, canonically simply not true. No matter if you like it, no matter if you think it makes sense considering Sirius's character, it's fact that adult Sirius respected him very much. He listened to him, he cared for his opinion, he backed down because of him, he allowed Remus to take the lead. He doesn't treat him as inferior. Not a single time.

But Sirius is so much better than Remus, he has a better moral code, he's a better man, a better [insert statement here]...

Again - it doesn't matter much if you think so, or what I think about it. But Sirius didn't think so. Not a single proof he's resentful towards Remus, not a single proof he thinks Remus is inferior to him, not a single proof he doesn't respect him. The opposite actually.

But Remus is such a pushover, it just doesn't fit personality-wise. Sirius needs someone strong

Is Remus really? Because he isn't as an adult. At least not as long as he isn't concerned personally.

I see Remus as someone with deep-rooted self-worth issues, hence he's struggling to stand up for himself (his worst decisions are all linked to his poor self-esteem). But he has no problem in PoA to stand up to Snape (in the scene in the Shack), he has no problem to stand up to Sirius (multiple times in that scene), he has no problem to take the lead in the conversation with Peter. He has no problem to stand up to Molly when she's attacking Sirius and he tells Sirius to leave it to him to deal with Snape when they learn that Snape stopped giving Harry Occlumency lessons (and wrenches him down again). He's not as gentle/soft/pushover-y as people sometimes think.

Besides, we don't know much about how he really was as a teenager. He himself says that he didn't call them out for the whole Snape thing, but his self-perception isn't the best and he tends to blame himself for everything, so we don't really know how true that really is... As mentioned before, Sirius himself says,

''Yeah, well. You made us feel ashamed of ourselves sometimes… that was something….'

And also (before that),

'Of course he was a bit of an idiot,' said Sirius bracingly, 'we were all idiots! Well - Moony not so much.'

But Sirius is depressive in OotP - the long hair, the drinking, his moods...

Yes, of course, he's trapped in his childhood home without being able to do anything, he's feeling useless. No wonder he's depressed. Having a relationship doesn't save you from depression (although having no fulfilling platonic/romantic relationships at all can be a major factor for getting depressed).

If one or two pillars have crumbled that is possibly already enough for the roof to tumble down - even though the third is still standing (surprise!).

[On a personal note: I know what I'm talking about (although not everyone's experience is the same obvs) because I'm suffering from depression despite having a wonderful partner, great sisters and great friends.]

But Harry inherited all of Sirius's money/belongings when he died, not Remus.

I don't know about you, but I don't peg Remus as somebody who would've accepted it. Apart from that, Remus was an adult whom Sirius saw as an equal, just as capable as himself, whereas Harry was Sirius's godchild, whom he felt responsible for (and probably still guilty towards).

But Sirius had his wall plastered with pictures of bikini-clad girls

And I had a poster of my favorite (male) singer over my bed at the age of fourteen. Guess what, I'm not straight.

What about Remadora?

I'm not stepping into the 'Is Remus gay'/'Is Remus bisexual' debate right here because I don't think it's necessary. Remadora was after Sirius's death. Period.

And the whole Remadora ship is awful - for both of them. @lizlemonbennet wrote a beautiful post about that

Tonks deserved better - she was so unhappy pining after him, it was literally sucking joy and confidence out of her (her hair changed and her Patronus changed). Lets talk about her Patronus actually. Before Remus it was a rabbit, after she fell in love with him it was a wolf. If Patroni represent your personality, what does it say about you when your Patronus is your lover's literal prey? To me that's a pretty obviously unhealthy dynamic.

But you're erasing women from the story

No, we're not. Wolfstar was a thing before Remadora and Sirius doesn't even have a canonic love interest. Besides - I love Jily and doesn't Hermione get paired with just about anyone?

But the author stated on wizardingworld.com that Remus had never fallen in love before he met Tonks.

I think the whole killing off Sirius and marrying off Remus thing was just the author dealing with fans interpreting her story in a way she didn't like. Either way, I don't care much about what she wrote on Wizardingworld or elsewhere when it contradicts the original source material. Because the author contradicting herself in interviews, on Pottermore, with the films, and even within the books is really nothing new. Just a short list of her making no sense:

James Potter being a seeker, no a chaser, no a seeker, actually nvm

Saying that Snape was in a gang with the Lestranges ('a married couple') at school, when Bellatrix had already left school when Snape arrived at Hogwarts

Saying James was fifteen in 'Snape's Worst Memory' when he had to have been sixteen. It happened after O.W.L.s and students turn sixteen during their fifth year of school. With his birthday being stated as being in March in the very source material itself (DH), sorry, but that's just wrong.

The whole timeline of the Order deaths in 1981

Halloween 1981 being a Wednesday when it actually was a Saturday (Wednesday - Saturday, close, huh?). The story starts from Vernon Dursley's perspective who's on his way to work and Harry's been brought to Privet Drive the same evening. According to the 'real calendar' this means baby Harry spent over a day alone in the ruins of his parents' house? Cool

September first, 1993, being a full moon, meaning Remus has to have transformed on either the train ride to Hogwarts or during the Start of Term feast. Meet your need DADA professor, he's a werewolf, like, right now. Ups, I guess the jig is up.

Remus not transforming in PoA when he hurries to the Shack despite sun already having set just because the moon is blocked by clouds??? It's that easy to evade transformation, yes? Why not lock yourself in the basement, then?

.... (don't get me started on plot holes, I could rant about this to no end)

Other reasons the ship appeals to so many people

Friends to lovers (with a bit of enemies to lovers because of the spy thing?)

I don't have to elaborate on that do I?

Just the right measure of opposites attract / Like will to like - They're good together or at least have the potential to be

I didn't mean to turn this into some Remus Lupin / Sirius Black meta, but...

In some ways they are super similar. It's both very important for them to be viewed as 'good' by others (although their definitions may differ). Remus because he needs that sort of validation because of his poor self-worth. Sirius needs to be seen as 'good' as opposed to his family. They get each other partly because they know how it's to be reduced to a single trait. But then they act very differently about it - Sirius plunges into action while Remus retreats and masks.

They're both dark in some ways; they were both ready to kill Peter.

James didn't believe one of his friends would betray him. Both Sirius and Remus weren't so naive (Although drawing the wrong conclusions):

You think I'm a fool?" demanded Harry.  'No, I think you're like James,' said Lupin, 'who would have regarded it as the height of dishonor to mistrust his friends.'

Remus is kind/gentle but he's also passive-aggressive at times and sometimes manipulative. Whereas Sirius is harsh, sometimes even cruel, but that means he's also blunt. That has the potential of them dragging one another away from the extremes a bit, meeting in the middle (although Sirius probably would be able to do so on his own, I think most times he simply doesn't care).

While Sirius is much less dramatic and rash than parts of the fandom make him out to be, he has a tendency to act impulsive (acting like a mad mass murderer when he breaks into the castle / wanting to murder Peter without thinking about what that means for his relationship with Harry / jumping to his feet to immediately have a word with Snape when he hears about him dropping the Occlumency lessons). He can do with some sort of counterforce just as Remus needs somebody who forces him to crawl out of his shell.

The drama

They get each other without really getting each other. Sirius thinking Remus is the spy is super tragic because he's reducing him to the werewolf thing, which is the one thing that really hurts Remus.

But he doesn't do that for malicious intent - he does so because he sees Remus's struggle, because it makes sense to him and because he deems Remus capable. But he doesn't really *get* Remus. Because if he did, he would have realized that for Remus it was always most important to be liked/fit in. He'd never betray his friends' trust, because he's so grateful for having them in the first place. He would have rather died, - he doesn't think his life is worth much anyhow (as opposed to Peter). Remus would rather die than risk being shunned.

So he sees Remus but misses the point spectacularly. Which just breaks my heart. And still they're finding back to each other (as friends at least)

Goodbye

Thanks to anyone who's read that far. Again, I don't mean to bash any other ship, this is just about my 'love' for Wolfstar. Don't tell me I can't write a canon compliant Wolfstar story because I can and I will (read: am trying).

I'm also not saying that you have to read it the way I do, it's always interpretation anyhow. But I hope I managed to shed some light on the whole matter.

I didn't check the text because I didn't intend it to get that long tbh. I only had time to write it down because I'm sick at the moment. But I hope there's no holes or anything.

#Can we at least agree that they were close as adults? Bc that would already make me happy (and it's true) #wolfstar #wolfstar defender #remus x sirius #remus lupin #sirius black #marauders #marauders era

[tiddygame]

Ghoap god type au part 3!

part 1 /// part 2 /// part 3

Their first official meeting face to… well, almost face. Soap’s doing his best.

[Disclaimer: I have been fiddling with this for ages, and just like everything else i’ve written, i’m not quite happy with it but i’m done looking at it. sorry if it’s awful lmao. also it’s around 5 goddamn thousand words]

Another battle won, another victory to add to the general’s reputation, and another fight that left Ghost feeling empty.

Part of him hated that he had become a disciple for the god of death. It was hard not to notice the changes that started after he first left an offering for the god. The way he felt a little less alone, the way enemy arrows would occasionally miss their target, the way the aches of battle faded much sooner, the way the world seemed a bit brighter. The way it gave him hope.

Hope was a dangerous thing. It tricked him into thinking he was meant for more than just dying on the battlefield. Made him believe that he could have a happy ending.

In reality however, Ghost would live and die a prisoner, having forgotten the taste of freedom. The world was not bright. It was cruel. If there were any good in the world, the other side would have won. Would have slaughtered them like pigs.

Instead, they lived to fight another day. Once the wounded were stable, they moved on. Found a spot to camp on a riverbank. As always, Ghost ran off. Let himself indulge in the falsity of hope.

By now, everyone in the camp was used to his routine. The only one brave enough to confront him was the general and so long as he returned to be his rabid dog whenever he needed, he learned not to care.

So, he left. Continued his search for more temples that once housed devout believers of the god of death. He appreciated the distraction from the real world, a short respite found in half-mindless wandering through abandoned cities or overgrown forests.

Ghost still knew very little about the god. While he knew the story of why the god had been forgotten, he still knew next to nothing about who the god was. They didn’t seem too bad at least; Ghost was still alive and has yet to be punished to an eternity of suffering.

He knew if he tried asking the god, (if he received an answer at all) it would all be what he wanted to hear and not the truth. So, he searched.

Most temples were too dilapidated to glean any information, but the little he had gathered seemed to point in a mostly positive direction. But he still needed to know more. He didn’t even know the god’s name for fuck’s sake.

Wandering through the forest, he wasn’t too worried about getting lost. It wasn’t so dense that shadows swallowed it whole and he could always follow the river to find his way back out.

Over the months spent on this routine, he’d learned a lot about how to find the temples, especially in forests like this one. It was rather simple: find a trail of slightly younger trees and follow them.

The much bigger, much older trees would outline a path that had long been lost to time. While hundreds upon hundreds of years have passed since the god was praised, the evidence was still dug into the earth.

Sure enough, after an hour or two of following a line of newer trees, he found a temple. It was the most intact one he’d found yet, all four walls still up, even if they looked ready to cave in at any moment. The only structural integrity was likely from the amount of vines slithering in through the cracks, acting as rope to hold together a building that wanted nothing more than to collapse.

The inside was surprisingly well lit. The holes in the roof that had been filled with various plants let in a soft green light. In the middle, extending from the back wall was a pedestal atop which sat crumbled rocks. As he guessed, taking a closer look proved it to have once been a statue that had either fallen prey to the passage of time or the anger of the locals.

Turning his attention to the walls, on his right was another doorway that would have led to a balcony overlooking the surroundings. Now, however, it was a simple curtain of vines leading to a pile of rubble falling down the hill. On his left was a wall of vines that was so thick, he wasn’t even sure if the wall was still there. But just peeking out towards the bottom looked to be the bottom edge of something that had been carved into the rock.

Curiosity piqued, he walked over and tugged at the ivy. Most didn’t even budge, but he was able to move enough to see that it was likely a mural of some sort. He hoped it was, at least. He was desperate for any information on who or what he’s been helping.

Pulling at the vines only resulted in his hands becoming covered in ants that had been hiding and he had a vague thought about setting fire to it, but there’s no way it would catch and if by some miracle it did, it would likely cause a forest fire. No other option readily available, he sighed and drew his knife, beginning the long and arduous process of hacking through each individual branch.

There was no easy way to do it. They clung to the wall so tightly that to try and slash them would just scrape the edge of his knife on the stone and ruin the edge. The brambles on them made him very grateful for his gloves saving him from turning his fingers into mincemeat. He worked carefully, pulling far enough to get his knife under the stems and cutting through them one by one.

It took hours of meticulous removal and a smarter man would have stopped a long time ago. But Ghost was determined now, he started the process and he couldn’t leave until it was finished.

He didn’t pay too much attention to the actual mural as he worked his way through them, waiting until he could see the full thing. At some point, he had to stop to light a small torch. Darkness having begun to set in, he didn’t notice he had cleared most of it until he took a step back.

As he suspected, it was a mural of the god, depicting some of his godly deeds. The original carving was already rather simplistic and the aging didn't help in deciphering what story it was telling. He was worried that in brushing off the dirt, the carvings would come with it, so instead he brought his torch closer and tried to figure out what he was looking at.

It seemed to be a set of stories, all of which featured the god as kind, helping people who were suffering. The first carving was of an old man on his deathbed, the god putting his hand over his eyes. The next was of parents watching as the god kissed their newborn on the forehead. The third grabbed his attention.

It was a soldier with a knife in his chest, the god holding his hand.

Months ago, Ghost had been in that exact situation. Dying was certain, and yet instead of doing whatever it is the god of death does when someone is dying, the god saved him. Healed a fatal wound with a golden scar. (And put a flower behind his ear, but he often elected not to think about that when remembering the event.)

All of the carvings were different tellings of the same story. For months he had been asking the same question with no answer: Why was Ghost’s story different?

Ghost shook his head. As always when trying to think about the why of it all, he concluded to not think about it. To just push it aside and ignore it. Whatever snake was hiding in the grass waiting to strike was too hidden for Ghost to see. Until the day comes that he gets bit, he will forget about it.

Pulling himself away from the third image, he turned back to the statue. The mural didn’t tell him anything he didn’t already know and hoped the collapsed statue would hold some answers.

Sure enough, it was still just as collapsed as before. There were marks in the rocks that proved it wasn’t the passage of time that felled it, but the anger of a mob.

Now looking at the pedestal with the torch, he saw the shadow of inscriptions on a plaque near the bottom. Kneeling down to get a better visual, he saw that it was four words written in an ancient language.

ᓭ𝙹ᔑ!¡, ˧𝙹⟍̅ 𝙹⎓ ⟍̅ᒷᔑℸ ̣⍑.

He remembered little of the translation, recognizing the third word was “of,” and after scraping through his memory, he was pretty sure the second word was “god.” Either that or fish. His memory is not that great.

____, GOD OF _____.

Well, it didn’t take a genius to deduce what the rest of it said. While he was iffy on the translations, he knew the phonetics well. Excited to possibly have the god's name in front of him, Ghost made a mistake.

Which, he would like to clarify, he knows that he’s an idiot. Stupid, dumb, anything and everything between. Obviously, common sense dictates that when you find strange writing anywhere, but especially in an ancient temple, you DO NOT READ IT OUT LOUD.

However, as previously stated, stupid dumb idiot and all that. In his defense, he wasn’t fully aware he was doing it. It had been a while since reading the dead language and the old carving made it hard to decipher the glyphs.

So, not thinking, he sounded them out. Out loud. Reading a random sentence in an abandoned temple of the god of death, who was abandoned after claims of being a monster. It was not Ghost’s proudest moment.

But, he did manage to read it, saying to an empty temple, “Sau— No… Soap, God of… Death?”

He didn’t know if he read it properly. When he had learned the script, it had been taught with handwritten letters. How they looked on a pen and paper was very different to how they looked carved into stone. He decided to risk delicately brushing away some of the dirt, following the indentation of the letters.

He was still trying to read the plaque when he became aware of someone behind him.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as he carefully maintained his position, not giving away that he had noticed the person. Looking out of the corner of his eye, he could see their shadow behind him and to the right.

Forcefully maintaining his casualness, he dropped his hand from the plaque and rested it on the ground as if he were just balancing himself. The other went to nonchalantly rest on the buttcap of his sword, holding it like it was happenstance for that to be the more comfortable position. He waited.

They did nothing. They did not move, didn’t take advantage of his weakness, he couldn’t even hear them breathing.

He had a sinking feeling that he already knew what was behind him. And if he was right, his sword would not save him.

Steeling himself, he stood and turned, drawing his sword. At first glance, they were not a soldier, thief, or mercenary. They drew no weapon and barely even reacted to his sudden advance.

It wasn’t human either. It… It “smiled” at him. Every fiber of Ghost’s being was telling him to run, run far away from this thing before it mauled him.

He stood still. No one can outrun Death.

His vision blurred but only when trying to look directly at the god. He was almost… translucent. When he risked a glance to the door, his image began to vibrate, like he didn’t need to hold himself together anymore.

Later, trying to recall any specific features would draw a blank. Eyes, hair, height — anything. He would question if the god had any physical form at all or if he just imagined it.

He needed to get out of there.

It seemed the god was examining him just as closely. Ghost tried to slowly back away, to inch closer to the door, but was stopped by the god circling him. Not having a secure exit made his skin crawl and he was sure to keep the being in his sights the entire time.

In the same way his eyes were warring over whether the god was there or not, he didn’t know how nervous he needed to be. The months spent offering whatever he had in exchange for company and help on the battlefield made him want to relax, to talk to him like he was an old friend.

The lifetime he spent being betrayed and getting used made him want to attack first. The back of his neck prickled at the reminder that he still owed the thing his life. He was not an old friend. He was a deity, the god of death, and would be able to kill him with ease. Ghost kept his sword level with the god despite being all too familiar with its futility.

The god, Soap, stopped his circling and stood in front of him, far too close for comfort. When Ghost backed away, he watched like he was observing a bug he found interesting.

The comparison was far more apt than Ghost wanted to think about.

“Your fellow soldiers call you Ghost, yes?”

It was the first time actually hearing the god speak and it was just as unsettling as he thought it would be. The voice reflected his flickering form, oddly deep and reverberating like it wasn’t meant for this plane.

Subconsciously, his sword slowly drifted down, no longer threatening an attack.

“…Yeah. How do you know that?” He didn’t bother trying to keep the accusatory tone out of his voice.

“I’ve been watching.”

Ghost didn’t like this. Not at all. Everything in his bones was screaming at him to get the fuck out of there. He readjusted his grip on the sword but forgot to raise it. He needs to get out. Now.

The god laughed.

“Don’t give me that look. You’re the first follower I have had in an age. What else was I supposed to do?”

Part of what made his voice sound off finally hit Ghost.

“The god of death is Scottish?” The incredulous tone probably wasn’t doing his life expectancy any favors.

“Aye. And you’re British.”

The god turned and began inspecting the rest of the temple. Ghost didn’t feel the true weight of the god’s stare until it was gone, now taking in several deep breaths as the pressure went away.

“Thanks, I didn’t notice.”

“I thought we were pointing out the obvious.”

The god smiled at him like it was a simple joke. But the annoyance was there. Even if the god was laughing now, that doesn’t mean he would still find Ghost’s disrespect funny in a few minutes. He needs to watch himself and be careful.

“Why do you look all… weird and shit?” Good job, Ghost. Real good about being careful and making sure to overthink his wording. Fucking hell, his own idiocy is going to kill him.

The god pouted his lip. Looking at Ghost with deceptively sad eyes, he asked, “Aw, are you calling me ugly?”

The god returned to examining the ruined temple. Even though he wasn’t looking, Ghost shook his head and raised his hand in a pause gesture. Gods have wiped out entire villages over less. He forced his breathing to remain normal, having to manually count it so as to not panic. Before he could backtrack and likely dig himself in a deeper hole, the god spoke.

“I am still weak. This is the first time I’ve managed to hold onto a tangible form.” Tangible was certainly one way to put it. When he ran his fingers over the ledges on the wall, the dirt and debris didn’t move. Brushing his hands through the vines led to them swaying slightly as if there were a breeze.

Ghost reminded him, “I tried giving you food. You didn’t accept it.”

The god laughed, “I know. The starving man giving the god food.” Ghost wasn’t sure if his tone was meant to be insulting or annoyed.

“Yeah?”

Soap sent him a look he couldn’t decipher, explaining, “Gods don’t eat. Not the way you do. Keep your food.” He made pointed eye contact with Ghost and winked as he said, “I prefer flowers and trinkets anyways.” He turned his attention back to the ruined mural. His eyes were wrong.

Ghost fucking hates gods. What the fuck does that mean?

He pointed out, “If you’re weak, don’t you need everything?”

“I am not that weak. Saving you hurt.”

Ghost prickled further at the reminder, taking a step back. Gripping the handle of his sword tighter, he defensively stated, “I don’t need your help.”

The god scoffed and walked towards him. Ghost tried to back up but the god was faster. The divine being put his hand on his ribs, right where the golden scar sat. With a furrowed brow he angrily stated, “This says otherwise.”

Ghost instinctively jerked away from the touch. It was staticky and cold. Wrong. It was somehow worse than human touch. He was tense, looking to see the gods reaction.

This was worse than dealing with an impatient, angry god. Those were predictable. This one has yet to give him any indication of his limits. Ghost didn’t know what would be the tipping point and could only hope that when it hit, the god would be kind enough to kill him quickly.

To his surprise, the god looked sad. His flash of anger gone and now quieter, he continued, “I was barely in time to save you.” If Ghost didn’t know any better, he’d say the god actually gave a damn about him.

But Ghost did know better. He stared at the third image on the mural. He asked the question that had been plaguing him since waking up from a deadly sleep, “You’re the god of death. Why… Why would you have run out of time? Why save me?”

He sighed, “Healing an otherwise healthy person is easy. Resurrection? Not so much. I do not control death the way people seem to think I do,” the god paused and sadly looked to the broken statue, “…or did. I can help people on their path but not change their course.”

The god was slowly walking closer. Ghost didn’t have much more space to back up, almost cornering himself, he had to angle himself more towards the door, following the wall. It allowed the god to get closer, much closer than Ghost would’ve liked, but it also allowed him to have a realistic escape plan.

Not that he’d be able to run from any god for long. The hope of success was a fickle thing.

Unaware or uncaring of his internal plight, the god happily continued explaining, “You were still on the same path, just veering to the left. Bringing someone back is possible, but not always worth it.”

Not yet learning his lesson about letting sleeping dogs lie, he poked back, “What? ‘They come back different?’”

The god gave a slight nod, “Sometimes, if their soul has been rotted or corrupted. But I meant the cost. Saving you was easy to do with all that you had given. To bring someone back from the dead… Well, there are some fates crueler than death.”

Ghost's eyes hardened, “I’m aware.” The god looked all sad again but he continued before he could interrupt, “But why did you save me?”

The god paused for a moment before simply stating, “You’re kind.”

Ghost scoffed and incredulously repeated, “I’m kind.” He nodded. Ghost continued, “So, you betrayed your own kingdom, domain, whatever to make sure I didn’t die because ‘I’m kind.’”

Soap smiled and for the first time since trying to touch his scar, reached out to him. “Exactly. I like you. You are kinder than someone in your shoes should be. That’s why I saved you.”

His hand hovered next to Ghost’s left. He was waiting for something. The god was still smiling softly at him.

He wants me to close the distance.

He’d rather the god have just grabbed him. Why was he waiting? Why was a god waiting on a mortal? Gods do not ask. They take. Why was this one any different?

When he was a kid, he’d run around trying to pet any and every dog that would let him. He would approach them slowly, holding out his hand for them to sniff. Some would approach immediately, but most took some time. They were half feral and scared of people, hesitant to even approach him.

At that moment, Ghost felt like a scared feral dog. He felt doomed, like there was no way out alive. He didn’t know if the deity was offering safety and comfort, or a quicker and less painful end. Soap’s hand was still extended, still smiling softly.

When a god asks, if you do not give, they will take. And will take more than they would have if you had handed it over to begin with. It’s best to give in before the consequences become worse.

He moved his hand into the god’s hold. It grinned. He tried not to shake.

The god rubbed his thumb along his hand, fingers trailing after an older wound that was on its way to scarring. The touch became slightly more bearable as he grew more accustomed to the peculiarities of the sensation.

After a pause, Ghost shakily contested, “I am not kind. I have more blood on my hands than everyone in the military camp combined.”

Soap, unperturbed, continued messing with his hand, watching the way his fingers bent and twitched. Not looking up, “I said kind, not a pacifist.”

Ghost tried to speak up. The god interrupted. The touch graduated into practically feeling each individual muscle in his arm, like he was trying to remember how a human body is supposed to look.

“However, if you want a more tangible reason, I did, and somewhat still do, owe you.”

Ghost didn't buy it for a second. "What? A god owing a mortal?"

Soap made eye contact once more. Ghost didn’t realize how close he had gotten. The god looked more human, but more wispy as well. His eyes didn’t make Ghost want to turn away before he turned to flame, but he could also see more of the temple through him. Perhaps their meeting would not last much longer.

“I’m sure you are aware that gods can die. the only reason I was still alive was because people would pass the ruins of my temples and remember me.”

He shifted to Ghost’s right and reached for his other arm. Doing the same hovering hesitation, Ghost simply nodded in approval. The god turned his focus to his right hand now, letting go of the left. He did the same examination as before, feeling over his knuckles and trailing what veins he could see up his arm.

…When had Ghost sheathed his sword?

His left arm tingled. He had to tell himself that he did not miss the touch.

“But no one believed in me. I was waiting for another thousand years when I’d be forgotten and could finally die. You not only saved me, but you gave me hope as well.” He accentuated the word by squeezing his arm, or trying to at least. He seemed to be fading fast.

With something in his eyes more earnest than Ghost was used to seeing on even a mortal, the god said, “So yes, I still very much owe you.”

The earnestness was gone and in its place, a joking tone as he continued, “Though, if it’s you I am indebted to, I don’t think that’s too bad of a fate.”

Ghost asked, “So… I don’t owe you a debt?”

Soap looked genuinely confused, “Why would you owe me?” With the way he tilted his head, he almost looked like a confused puppy.

Ghost was at a loss, having no idea how to answer that. The idea that gods just wanted to fuck over everyone they could for their own amusement was so ingrained that to try and put it into words felt impossible.

When he didn’t answer, Soap spoke again, “I like you alive.” His hands moved, one going to feel the pulse point on his wrist and the other sitting over the left side of his chest, feeling his heart. Like he was making sure he was still alive.

The confused furrow did not leave Ghost’s brow at the explanation and he was sure Soap could feel the way his breathing and heart rate kicked up at the touch. He couldn’t tell if he wanted to lean into it and beg him to never let go or skin himself to be rid of the feeling.

“Besides,” Soap said, making eye contact once more. He grinned. It didn’t look human. “I’m not letting you go that easy.”

Ghost ripped himself away, finally in the doorway of the ruined temple. The orange light indicated that dawn was well on its way. He could not hear any birds chirping nor any leaves rustling. It was still smiling from the edge of the shadows.

The god spoke, “I hope we can meet like this again. I had fun.” With that, the divine being stepped forward into the light and fully faded at last.

Ghost took in several deep lungfuls of air. He stood frozen, watching as if waiting to make sure the god did not return. In truth, he was frozen. When it came to fight, flight, or freeze, he thought he had trained himself out of the latter two options.

But he stood there, terrified to move. He didn’t even shift his weight. It felt like to move was to acknowledge what had just happened, and to acknowledge it was to cement it as reality.

A childish part of him hoped he would wake up to find it was all a dream. Forcing himself to turn his back to the door, he ignored the way his back burned at being exposed and unprotected.

He absentmindedly made the long trek down the hill and to the river. He detached his scabbard and kneeled, splashing his face with water, the coolness of it shocking his system.

He turned to the left and vomited. He was shaking so much he almost collapsed. Locking his elbow, he was barely able to balance just to wipe his mouth.

He turned back to the water. Took in a deep breath and submerged his face. He stayed there, pushing the limit of how long he could stay under. His heart was racing, demanding air. He could feel it rattling against his lungs.

Just as the dizziness and weakness began to take hold, he ripped himself up. Taking long, heavy deep breaths, he looked up. Watched as the last of the stars faded into an orange and blue sky.

Stories and warnings from priests came crawling back to him. About what the presence of The Old Gods could do to a mortal. If he was shaking, vomiting, and scared stiff from seeing him while he was still weak…

Good gods, how powerful can this stupid motherfucker get?

He hasn’t felt so… so… so much in a long time. His brain was warring with itself over how he should feel about the interaction. Part of him felt hopeful, thinking that perhaps he might now have someone who actually cares about him and not what he can do for them. Part of him felt so hopeless that he didn’t see the point in getting up, in doing anything other than trying to die before he could cement his fate as a god’s new favorite human plaything.

He blinked and forced his mind to stop. The birds had returned, singing once more. He stood shakily, grabbing his sword and using it to help him up. It sank slightly in the mud.

Day officially broke. In the forest, shadows turned and ran to hide behind the trees. Animals were just starting to wake, some heading to the river to drink.

Ghost stepped into the water, following it downstream and letting the rush of water cover his tracks. The rapids threatened to sweep him away with every step, rocks underfoot falling prey to the force.

By mid morning, the river led him back to the camp.

The other soldiers stopped and stared upon noticing him but did not say a word. In fact, they fell completely silent seeing him wading through water that would drown a lesser man, muddy sheath in hand, soaked to the bone.

He stepped onto the shore, walking at the same slow speed he had in the water. The general, having noticed the sudden silence stepped out of his tent, demanding to know what the problem was. Seeing Ghost, he hesitated before demanding his attention.

Ghost was already on the path towards him. Face to face, the general hesitated, mouth moving but no words spilling forth. Ghost informed him that he was going to go to sleep. The general had yet to find his voice.

Ghost walked to his tent. Dropped his sword. Lied on his cot. He stared at the canvas above him, forgetting to remove his armor and gear.

When he got like this, feeling disconnected from not just his body but his soul as well, he tried to take stock of himself. Mentally document every ache and pain, how his clothes felt, even what the weather was like.

Instead he became aware of one sensation in particular, one clinging to both of his arms, his chest, and a small part of his lower ribs.

Everywhere the god had touched him felt electric.

How long has it been since someone touched me without hurting me?

He wondered why his skin still tingled. Why he missed the feeling.

#soap is kicking his feet twirling his hair and ghost is scared for his life #soaps doing his best alright #old gods this old gods that. simon pretty much went into sensory overload because someone was nice to him #and two things: #yes the mural was inspired by the painting of the grim reaper in white #and this will be the last update to this but just for a bit cause i want to try to do something for mermay #emphasis on try #words have not been wording #ghostsoap #soapghost #ghoap #queue #forgotten death au #me try not to over tag and over explain everything challenge (impossible) #once more posting this right before i sleep #if you’re reading these tags goodnight drink water and i hope sleep comes easily to you when you lie down

[witchofhimring]

Loyalty Chapter 13

Synopsis: Synopsis: A Battle rages over Harrenhal and your path is not just dark, its destroyed.

Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x Tyrell Reader

Aemond Targaryen x Ellyn Baratheon

Alys Rivers x Aemond Targaryen

Jaecerion Targaryen x Reader

Jason Lannister x Reader (minor)

(more to come!)

Y/n Tyrells Profiles

Warnings: Angst, heartbreak, childbirth, emotional turmoil, death, unrequited love?, humiliation by Ellyn Baratheon, marital abuse, marital consummation, misogamy (internalized as well as external), brief depictions of smut, moontea/abortions, suicide, mentions of rape (not to the reader), Plot twist at the end!

The first memory of Lady Jenna was at the funeral your father. Back then she was dressed in a deep green that reminded you of the deep tonics your father took. Towering over you she was more than intimidating. Years later and you still felt at similar sinking sensation. "Y/n. It has been some time." She smiled, warm and friendly. That was what Lady Jenna attempted to project. However as Lady Jenna pulled you into a hug there was a tension. When the two of you broke apart you noticed something steely in her eyes. "Follow me." The greeting was quick and Lady Jenna lead the way inside. Up the stairs you went, attempting to remember everything. The entrance hall was lined with portraits of Highgarden's past lords and ladies. The images of your ancestors looked down at the newcomers. The second last one displayed your parents, Lord Owen Tyrell and Lady Amelia Tarley. This was the first time you had laid eyes on a decent image presenting their likeness in years. The little locket which held miniature portraits was miniscule in detail. You recognized your eyes in Lady Amelia Tarley.

"We best hurry." Lady Jenna sounded slightly impatient. With a hasty apology you caught up. Jaecerion took hold of your elbow. "You're trembling." Suddenly you became aware the your breathing had become erratic. With a beating heart you felt sweat collecting on the brow. You took his hand and whispered "Just hold me, please."

Lady Jenna welcomed everyone into her solar. The scent of pine greeted you. Trying to remember, memories of a time before Lady Jenna surged. When Lady Amelia had owned these rooms they had smelt the same. There was a perfume scent in the air that you could not quite names. Green curtains had hung in a similar fashion, showing the garden bellow. Lady Jenna sat in a great oak chair and beckoned for everyone else to sit. Immediately servants came in and started serving refreshments. A few of them cast you looks, Lady Jenna was quick to shoo them away. "I hope the journey was not a hard one." You were ready to reply when Jaecerion stepped in. "Unfortunately as we were not provided with a sufficient guard the journey was quite perilous." There was an edge to his voice. Lady Jenna sent him a thin smile. Looking at her closely you noticed a muscle in her jaw spasm. Then you looked to Jaecerion. What was with the sudden hostility? A sudden tension had risen and it put you on edge.

Lady Jenna then turned her attention to Lady Mara. "Lady Mara, it has been some time. I hope you are well." Your lady gave her a bright smile. Or at least it would have passed as such to the eyes of most. Lady Mara had always been somewhat closed up when it came to emotions. But you had spent enough time around Lady Mara to see it was forced. And could you blame her? The horror's of war and Rhaenyra's tyranny had left their marks on all.

"I am well. And I hope the same can be said of you too." Lady Jenna nodded. "Wonderful. All of you must be tired, I will have my servants show all of you to your quarters." It had been so abrupt that you had not even considered the fact that Lady Jenna had yet to properly converse with you. After all, you had been her eyes and ears, a member of her house. As a servant lead you away, you decided that once settled in you would speak with her. Not rudely of course, she was the head of House Tyrell. But the topic needed to be breeched.

Your room was high up in a tower overlooking Highgarden. From this height you could see all three walls and beyond. "This is where I was born." You held baby Owen so that he could look out. Even if he could not fully comprehend the scene before him you wanted Owen to see. This is where his family, or at least in the maternal line, dwelled. Since the Andals sowed their roots long ago his and your ancestors ruled. In time, Gods willing, so would he.

You're room was circular in shape and had a four poster bed, a writing table and a dresser. Yet something about this room felt empty. There were tapestries, but the ones in this room were a plain brown. The curtains hanging around your bed were also plain. Hardly a residence worthy of the former Lady of Casterly Rock. Even during your tenure as the Dowager Queens' lady-in-waiting, the rooms had been more sumptuous. And would it be enough when Lady Mari moved in? Speaking of Lady Mari, where was she? Walking over to the door you pushed it open. Instead of swinging open it hit metal. Alarmed you jumped back and the knight in front jerked forward. He turned around as you apologized. "Quite alright My Lady. Lady Jenna will be up soon." You thanked him and closed the door.

True to his word, Lady Jenna entered, alone. "My dear Y/n. It must have been a long journey." She gave you a hug and then looked down at Owen. "He is a very handsome boy. You named him after your father?" "Yes, My Lady." A door opened and a maid entered holding a tray. She placed it on the writing desk and departed. Lady Jenna waited till she left before telling out to sit. "It is good to see you after so long. And you have been a wonderful source of information." This felt more than slightly demeaning. You felt no more than a prop used by Lady Jenna. In return for all your service she had situated you here. "When will I have my ladies?" Lady Jenna took a sip of wine. "I will have Lady Cerilla attend you." She might as well have poured a bucket of cold water over your head. 'P....pardon my Lady Jenna. Lady Cerilla." You prayed that it was a mistake, perhaps there was another Lady Cerilla. But that hope was quickly dashed when a familiar red headed girl slunk in, a sneer upon her pale face.

You were quick to summon Lady Mari up. Even if you had to endure Cerilla's presence you might at least have company. Not for one moment would Cerilla have unfiltered access to you without witnesses. Cerilla seemed slightly disappointed to not have you alone. Normally you would be quite happy to rebuke he. Especially since you greatly outranked her. Unfortunately this was Lady Jenna's domain and woe to those who disobeyed her. When you had been very little a maid had disobeyed an order. You could not recall the crime but only a bloody result. As the bloody maid was dragged away Lady Jenna had come up behind you. "Remember Y/n, loyalty to your house."

Once Cerilla was gone, following orders to ask a maid when dinner was, you could finally breath. Closing the door a sigh of relief was let loose. "I had no idea she was sent here." Lady Mari stared at the door. "Me neither. Perhaps we should have expected it." Someone knocked at the door. If it was Cerilla you would jump out the window. When Jaecerion entered you felt relived. His silver head was still hidden under a hood. Walking towards him you hugged Jaecerion. You would miss him greatly. During the past few weeks you had forgotten what life was like without him. "Lady Mari, could you give us space?" Lady Mari curtsied and left. Now it was just you and Jaecerion. "I will have to leave tomorrow. A pang thundered against your heart. Trying to hide the tears you looked up at him. "I will miss you. Jaecerion." His face was close to your. Saphire eyes lingered on every inch of your face. He took hold hands in his and pressed a delicate kiss to the fingertips.

You were shaking. Once Jaecerion left you and Owen would be alone. Lady Mari and Lady Dara would remain. But they were no substitute for those who had been near and dear since childhood. "When the battle is over I promise we will met again." You brought his hands into a close grasp. "But you will come back?" Jaecerion let go of your hands and placed them on your waist. Bringing you close, Jaecerion's lips were inches from yours. Hands went to Jaecerions shoulders. Looking into Jaecerion's eyes you noticed his eyes were black. He was looking deep into yours, taking in every inch of you. His pink lips were not far from yours. If either of you chose to lean forward then they would met. Jaecerion's grip tightened and his breath became shallow. Warmth spread down your back, over your chest and to every orifice of your body. Never before than you felt such deep emotions of this nature. Even towards your lawful husband. Jaecerion had always loved you, or at least for a long time. You wanted him, you needed him. Making up your mind, you leaned in close.

Cerilla stepped in, a creaking door announcing her entrance. Neither you nor Jaecerion moved. Both of you stared at a stunned Cerilla. She looked ready to say something, and she would have, if Jaecerion had not been there. "My Prince." All Cerilla did was curtsy and come back out the way she came. You watched her retreating form with mounting fury. No doubt this was an action born out of her hatred of you. Cerilla must have been under the impression that just because her sister was married to the heir that it was appropriate to show such disrespect. "I will show her different." You thought. If Cerilla thought she was getting away with anything you would be more than happy to dispel the fantasy. At this time she was no more than your servant. And just as how Ellyn treated you with scorn, so would Cerilla know how it felt.

Jaecerion too watched her retreat with dislike. "Is that the little bitch that followed you in Kings Landing?" You laughed at him calling Cerilla a bitch. Well, it was true. "Yes that is too. And it seems Cerillas' dismissal at Harrenhal has done nothing to temper." "What, she was dismissed?" Jaecerion looked at you in surprise. "Yes. It was actually your brother who did." Your grip on Jaecerion increased and you looked up at him. His lips were so close to yours. If only you could....

The chance was lost when once more the door was opened. Your luggage came in carried by those who had spirited you here. "My Prince, everything is ready." One of the knights bowed. "You are leaving now?" Looking up at Jaecerion your eyes were near tears. Seeing this, Jaecerion's thumb gently caressed your cheek. "Not for long. I am needed but call and I shall come." Jaecerion bent down and pressed his warm lips to your hand. He bid you farewell and you watched as he and the others left. The last thing you saw of Jaecerion, for now, was the tips of his silver hair disappearing through the door. Something sickeningly heavy was pressing against your chests. There was something so final about this meeting. A tear rolled down your cheek, and your shadow changed into a hooded figure.

That night dinner was brought up to you. Normally a woman of your station would dine in the great hall. But you were under cover and therefore had to remain hidden. Your ladies had not come back yet. It was no surprise that Lady Dara was not yet back. But Lady Mari was another matter. Anxiously you waited by the window, wrapped in a green shawl. A goblet of wine was in hand. Little Owen was fast asleep in his colt. You were not just waiting for Lady Mari, but Lady Jenna. Hence why you were still dressed in your day clothes'.

Your eyes were feeling very heavy. "I shouldn't have drank." But you were so comfortable in this chair. Time wore on by and slowly you drifted away from the working the world. The last thing you remembered the cold feeling in your wrists.

The forest was dead. All the leaves lay like corpses on the ground, lifeless. There was no wind. You watched through the forest, footsteps not making a sound. Your green dress, tighter than it was in the waking world, constricted you uncomfortably. There was no goal in mind, just the notion that you had to keep on walking. The shadows stretched out like boney fingers. Faces stared out at you from the Weirwood. This had ceased to frighten you like it used to. These dreams had a normalcy to them. That was not to say there was no unease. The unexpected could still happen. Blood spirting from the ground. A corpse grabbing you. Any of these things could happen.

And something did happen. A sudden sting appeared on your wrists. Blood stained the green dying it red. Shaking, you held them up to eye level. Blood ran down your arms like thin rivers. What was the meaning to this? The ground before you started to tremble. Just barely were you able to avoid falling over. A hooded figure like that of the Seven rose up to greet you. Opening its arms, the creature smiled showing two rows of sharp teeth.

A horrid jolt brought you back. Owen had started to fuss and someone was climbing the stairs. You could not hear anything, but rather you sensed it. On instinct you went for Owen. Scooping him up you held him securely. Owen was starting to calm down, only slightly. Lady Jenna, dressed in a magnificent emerald dress and a sweeping headdress glided in. Carefully you curtsied. "Y/n." She smiled and took you in her arms. Despite being forty years of age Lady Jenna maintained her youth. Only slight lines could be found if one looked close enough. Thin lips touched your cheek in a gesture of welcome. Thin hands then grasped your elbows. "I trust your accommodations are comfortable." You placed on a smile. "I thank you for the consideration." Lady Jenna lead you over to the chair. "Your son is beautiful. I heard you named him after your father." One of Lady Jenna's fingers stroked his thin hairs. Owen's eyes opened and surveyed the newcomer.

Nervously you tried to find the words. Lady Jenna could hardly be here simply for idle chit chat. There was something she wanted. Was it information you had been unable to pen? Your thoughts went to Cerilla and you wondered if Lady Jenna was angry. After all, they were in-laws, Lady Jenna's son being married to Cerilla's elder sister. "I heard that my husbands uncle wishes to confirm my sons rights." Seeing Lady Jenna's face you were quick to add "None of Owen's family have seen him." Lady Jenna, thank the Gods, was not angry. "Do not worry. They are ready to see you tomorrow. However I believe you need to rest. I apologize for not speaking with you alone earlier." "Of course, we are all busy. These are dark times." You replied. Lady Jenna smiled.

"There is something I wish to bring up." Lady Jenna stood to her full height. She looked down at you with her imperious gaze. Lady Jenna had sharp bright green eyes. They focused on an object, predator like, and struck. It was always best to avoid her displeasure. "Cerilla Swann will serve you. I hear you dismissed her at Harrenhal." The nausea swirling in your belly was almost unbearable. Throwing up was not out of the option. Trying to make yourself feel small, you spoke. "I never meant any offence. Lady Cerilla was spreading rumors which could impact our house." Lady Jenna's eyesbrows furrowed. "Lady Cerilla has put our houses honour to wuestion." You knew you had Cerilla at that moment. She may be Lady Jenna's in-law, but no threat towards house Tyrell would be tolerated. Not even by her.

"I will speak to Lady Cerilla. In the mean time I expect everyone to be on their best behavior. You will be expected to remain here, under the best care, of course. If you desire anything you need only ask." She shot you a dazzling smile and swept out of the room. Relief swept through you. Slumped over, cast under a sudden spell of exhaustion, you felt like sleeping. You blew out the candle casting your surrounding into darkness. Owen seemed just as sleepy as you. For the first time since being married you went into bed without one of your ladies. Owen sniffed and nuzzled in closer. A smile appeared on your face.

"Its okay. We will be alright." You drifted into a quiet sleep.

Days passed in a sleepy lull. Stuck in your room there was not a whole lot to do. It nearly felt like a prison, though in all fairness the room was not uncomfortable. Thankfully Lady Mari and Dara could join you. Less thankfully was the presence of Cerilla. You took great pleasure in sending her out on long errands. There was nothing she could do about it really. Her pale face would turn bright red every time, followed by storming off. There was the added benefit of not seeing her face as often. Days were spent reading, sewing and taking care of Owen. Your son was growing at a rapid rate and thankfully healthy.

On the fourth day of your stay routine was broken when Lady Jenna summoned you to her study. A group of lords including your deceased husbands uncle was also in attendance. "My Lady. It is good to see you again." Lord Tynar Lannister bend forward and kissed your hand. "Likewise my lord." Then the attention was given over to your son, their future lord. Proudly you showed him off to the men present. Once greetings were over everyone sat down. "My Lords, Lady Y/n. We are here to discuss Lord Owen succession to the head of House Lannister." It felt odd to hear your son referred to as "Lord Owen". "Lady Y/n will take on the title Dowager Lady Paramount of the West. We will ask that you return with us to Casterly Rock at the earliest convenience. Here you will remain for now. Once the false Queen Rhaenyra is overthrown you will be take your rightful place." Lord Tynar pulled out a piece of paper and set it out. "Normally the Lord Paramount will sign this himself. Given Lord Owen's age we will ask that you as his mother sign. It is just as legal and binding. In these situations the Lord Paramount will sign when he is older. But in the mean time this contact is just as binding."

You looked over the paper. Everything seemed to be in order. You could go back to Casterly Rock and rule from there. Naturally you would need help. The thought of being of charge of such a large wealthy region was terrifying and thrilling in equal measure. You would wield more power as regent than wife.

You signed your name.

Lord Tynar clapped his hands together. "Wonderful. That is everything in order." Lady Jenna raised a hand, cutting him off. She turned to you. There was a shrewd look in her eyes. What had you done? Hands clutched together you waited for it to fall. "Your son is heir to Casterly Rock. My sons' daughter is the same age. I suggest a marriage between our houses. It will unite two of the greatest houses in Westeros." Thank the gods she was not angry at you. You were so relived that you immediately said yes. And anyways, it was not a bad match. It would likely have happened anyway.

"Pardon me Lady Jenna. But this is rather sudden. Should we not all talk about it." Lady Jenna quickly spoke over you. "It is a perfectly fine match. Do you object?" Lord Tynar looked between Lay Jenna and yourself. He seemed to make up his mind.

You were stumbling around in the darkness. The forest was gone, hand been for some time. You would have preferred that over this impenetrable darkness. Somehow you were walking despite there being nothing under your feet. Yet you were able to move forward and back. Supposedly you could walk wherever. Not that this was any help. Everything was dark.

"You had a choice." The booming voice reverberated through you. Curling in on yourself it took everything to to faint from pure fear. Horrified you were rooted to the stop. Rocking back and for you wanted to be anywhere but here. Always you had hated these dreams. "You had a choice. Farwell." And then you were falling. As you fell the faces of nameless gods peered down at you. Everything was falling away. A figure reached forward and her eyes were upon you.

Something hand fell towards your face. Having just woken up you could do nothing to stop it. "Ouch!" Jerking out of sleepiness you now feel a burning on your nose. "What in the Seven." You realized the guilty culprit was a hand. Your hand. Sitting up you were still shaking. The dream was like a brand on your mind. It hurt something deep inside and instilled fear. It took you a bit to realized Cerilla was looking at you. "What." You snapped. She sneered and flounced out of the room. Now all alone you looked around for Owen with a feeling for dread. Thankfully he was safe and sleep in his crib. Reaching over you pick Owen up. He coos and opens his eyes. "Good morning." You kissed his nose. Owen smiled and you gently touched his ingrowing hair. It pained you that breast feeding was out of the question. Calling a wet nurse over you reluctantly handed him over. Once done you immediately took him back.

Afterwards you were able to walk along the battlements overlooking a courtyard. A slight wind brushed your hair, causing it to catch the light. Owen was bundled up in a blue blanket, his eyes looking around. Today had a serenity to them, the weather in perfect harmony. A guard was leading and Lady Dara brought up the rear.

The day was cloudy and slightly cool. "Do you think winter will come soon?" Lady Dara asked. "I suppose so. The maesters say it will." At your words Lady Dara looked up. "They might be wrong." She said hopefully. You doubted it. One could see an outline of the sun, obscured by clouds. A few were practicing in the courtyard. Yet it seemed that they were young, boys really. You guessed most of the able bodied young men were gone. "Most likely dead." A voice in your head said. The green cloak you wore felt heavy, the velvet pressed against skin. Other than that there was an eerie quiet that settled over Highgarden. Not even a bird in the sky. Despite the wind you had the sensation of someone holding their breath. You likened it to a scenario several years back. A tournament had been held in honour of the King and Queen. Two knights, you forgot their names, were jousting. They came at each other with great force and one of them flew off. You remembered Flora seizing you arm, and the vice grip seizing your stomach. For those few moments you held your breath, waiting in anticipation. Moments later it was pronounced he was dead. Your stomach had sank and the anticipation turned into dread. You were having the same feeling for reasons unknown.

"Is anyone else cold?" Lady Dara had an anxious look upon her face. "Are you alright?' You noticed she possessed a slight grey heugh. She looked as anxious as you felt. "Have you overheard anything?" You questioned Lady Dara. She fell into step beside you, leaning in. "They are saying Daemon Targaryen is looking for Prince Aemond." Chilled, you remembered the man. He had always off set you. "Has he found Aemond?" You asked. "I do not think so." Aemond had left Harrenhal and the place was currently deserted. Now only ghosts were the inhabitants. Was Alys there right now? It would feel appropriate, given she was a witch. You wondered how she was doing? Alys must be terribly angry at you. In her position you would. Trying to press down the guilt you continued to probe Lady Dara for information.

"They say Daemon has taken a mistress." Shocked, you stared at her. "This is only gossip, I do not know the truth. But its some little thing of a girl, only skin and bones I hear. No great but either and of no noble blood. Would you think it of him." Pondering, you wondered how Rhaenyra would take it. "Does she know?" You inquired. Lady Dara shrugged. "Who knows. If she's smart she will keep her mouth shut. You know they say he killed his first wife." Everyone had heard of Daemon Targaryen's infamous temper. A Targaryen trait if there ever was one.

If Prince Aemond and Daemon met, what would happen. Aemond held Vhaegar. You tried to convince yourself that the old she dragon would be enough. But Daemon, despite his age, was a veteran of many wars. Even before his birth the prince had been laying armies to waste. Apparently when waging war on the Triarchy he had cut their leader clean in two. If the two came to blows Daemon stood a good chance at winning. Perhaps his age would give Aemond a chance, though many said he was unchanged in physical prowess.

A great black cloud passed over the sky. "Look!" Lady Dara pointed up and the scene was almost unnatural. This cloud was not just dark, it was black. A pure oily black that put out the sun. Everything was plunged into dark, light was snuffed out. And that was when the sensation of holding your breath was replaced with the aftermath. An unexplainable feeling of dread. The wait was over and now a horrible feeling had crept in. The worst part was that you did not know what it was. Everyone continued to look up until the cloud passed. Even when the light came through nothing changed. The feeling did not go away.

Sleepiness crept upon you. Feeling sluggish you leaned back and allowed yourself to relax. You had spent the rest of the day bearing this dreadful feeling. Now at night you were too tired to feel anything but exhaustion. The bed was so warm and you were so comfortable. Owen was already asleep. A full moon made it easy to see outside. Large, it peered down from up on high. Somehow it offered a sort of comfort. Not thinking much about it you dozed off into sleep.

"Y/n." Your eyes shoot open. But when you tried to move, nothing. Your body was completely immobilized. Panic starting to set in you tried to move. Still no luck. You became aware of a presence on your left hand side. Where Owen was. Struggling you tried to break whatever this was. "Do not be afraid." The voice was low, but not deep. It was a woman's, low, slow and melodic. A figure rose up. She was dressed in white, hair hanging to her waist. You recognized her from portraits. Your mother was a shadow to you. She had died twenty years ago yet you hardly knew her. Such a non entity she had been that never once had you tried to figure anything about her.

The bed dipped when she sat down. You would have though this was a dream. But you knew it was not. The past few months had taught you that.

Lady Amelia gently brushed the hair off your head. Silently she took in every feature. Her fingers traced your cheekbones and lightly touched hair. A tear rolled down her cheek. "It is not too late. Go to the hidden gave by the Rose Door. It will appear for you and only you." And then she was gone in a wisp of smoke.

"Are you well My Lady?" Gazing out the window you watched the sun rise. Slowly is rose. The night was slowly retreating giving way to light. "Can you hear the birds?" Early morning dew wafted from the gardens bellow. It had been so long since you had walked in a garden. Somberly you watch the morning unfold.

"I would like to be alone." Silently Lady Mari left. All alone you were left to battle your misery. What a beautiful morning. It was so sad that it brought sadness. When was the last time you had truly been happy? Likely when Owen was born. Yet the grief you carried eclipsed all else. Closing your eyes a tear rolled down. You were so, so tired of everything. The past two years were hell. Not even the Seven Hells compared. There was no balm that covered these wounds. No satisfaction that soothed the anger. Fear was your constant ally. There was no way to pry it from you. Soon more tears joined and soon they all came together in a waterfall. Silently you stood there, taking it as you always did. Those small victories meant nothing in the grand scheme of things. This morning would only bring greater pain.

You did not know why this was. It was a sixth tense tugging at your very soul. Whatever was going to happen would rip your very soul apart.

The door opened and still you did not turn. No one would see you cry. Especially if it was Cerilla. "Lady Y/n, there is a messenger. He carries a letter from Prince Jaecerion." Panic overrides your pride. In a panic you seized Lady Mari by the shoulders. "Is he alright." Alarmed Lady Mari nearly jumped back. "Y...yes My Lady." Behind her stood Cerilla holding a message. Snatching it you order them from the room. Now left alone you ripped the seal off.

My Dearest Y/n,

I regret to inform you that Aemond has died. He fought Daemon Targaryen over Harrenhal and both fell with their dragons. I know this news will bring you anguish. I am so incredibly sorry for your loss. I know you loved him. His mistress Alys Rivers and bastard have disappeared. They say she is a witch.

We will bear Aemond's body back to Kings Landing when we take the capital back.

I want you to know that I am eternally your servant.

Love, Jaecerys

There are pains too great to put into words. You did not scream, or cry. Like a wounded beast you hunched over. Cold stones met your hands. Like a child hurt you doubled over onto the floor. You had your fair face of agony, both physical and mental. Humiliation and a loss of self had been heaped upon you. It all paled to this. He might have been a stranger during these past two years, but Aemond still held your heart. You remembered the young boy, and your last day with Aemond down at the alcove. How you smelt the water on his skin, and his silver hair in the wind. It all faded before you. Aemond was gone from this world.

He was gone from you.

Notes: I'm back! School had me very busy and I needed to rest. This chapter was hard to write which is the other reason this chapter took so long to write. For now updates will be more frequent. This story is close to wrapping up (at least part one).

Some of you might ask why the reader is so subservient when it comes to Lady Jenna. Despite the reader having backbones there are several reasons for his. Firstly, the reader has been taught to respect authority, sense why she allows her life to be used by others around her. Lady Jenna is the family matriarch and the reader has seen her word as law since she was a child. Two, she has little choice. A war is going on and Lady Jenna is far more powerful than her.

I want to thank everyone for their patients!

If you want to join the taglist please let me known!

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#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x you #aemond x reader #hotd fanfic #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x you #aemond fic #aemond x fem reader #amond targaryen x y/n #aemond x y/n #hotd x y/n #hotd x reader #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon #Loyalty #aemond targaryen x reader angst #aemond angst #aemond x reader angst #hotd angst #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd imagine #aemond targaryen x reader #alys rivers #alys x aemond #ellyn baratheon #ellyn baratheon x aeomnd targaryen

[anachilles]

“So, what’s the prognosis, Doc? Am I gonna live?”

Your firehouse buckies? 😍 or anything else with buck x bucky 💓

omg hi! and please yes give me all the excuses to write my firehouse!au buckies!! (for those who may not be familiar - this is firefighter!bucky and bartender/PhD student!buck) here's a little thing set significantly further along than where we're currently at in the actual fic lol. + shout out to @avonne-writes and their 'who's taking who's surname?' poll and the discourse for inspiring a little part of this lol. currently taking prompts from this list: [ x ]

"So, what's the prognosis, Doc? Am I gonna live?"

His voice hoarse and barely there, trust John to tease him even around the tail end of a thermometer, just as Gale went to pull it from his mouth.

'Suppose he can't be too sick if he still has jokes,' was the first thought that came to Gale's mind. The second thought though, sneaking up hot on the first's heels, was 'John would be cracking jokes on his damn deathbed so that really isn't as much of a reassurance as it should be.'

Gale squinted as he examined the numbers. The light was low in the early winter morning, the sun not having quite fully risen yet. He'd usually have switched even just his own bedside lamp on as he got himself ready to leave for the day, but with John's groan of protest that particular morning, he’d quickly switched off again.

It'd been a restless night, and even though they were both feeling the impact of John's tossing and turning, and the seemingly inability for him to breathe at all through his nose anymore, the man himself just looked downright exhausted with it. He'd eventually managed to fall asleep with his hot, clammy forehead pressed into the back of Gale’s neck, plastered to his back, and Gale hadn’t the heart to try and move him despite how he had then been overheating.

"You know there's another, arguably much more enjoyable way to do that..." John leered, even if half-heartedly, and if only to fill the silence as Gale's eyebrows pinched at whatever he saw on the little digital screen.

See, this is why they'd more or less permanently shacked up at Buck's place rather than his. He had stuff like thermometers lying around. Stuff an actual home has.

Gale looked up at him then, incredulous. "You're really trying to flirt with me, sitting there with a 101 degree fever?" he said, turning the thermometer as if to prove his point. Incredulous, but not surprised; not really.

"Baby, if I'm ever sick enough that I don't want to flirt with you, make you blush all pretty like you do, that's when you should be worried."

Gale had almost been tempted to smile at that, until John had to cut himself off, a sudden bout of congested coughing rattling from his throat.

Capturing the inner corner of his bottom lip between his teeth, Gale sighed, his long legs unfolding from beneath him and as he got up from where he'd been perching on his side of the bed. He crossed to John's bedside, pulling the covers further up around the other man’s chest.

Gale clicked his tongue slightly, though his expression and voice betrayed him in their co-ordinating softness. "All of this because you just had to be the hero and go jump in the damn lake."

Off to the side of them, Maverick jumped up onto the bed, sleepily curling in at Bucky's side in the warm spot Gale had just vacated. She bumped her head against John's hand, eager and impatient as the day Gale met her. John responded without even having to look away from the conversation, his fingers scritching at the especially soft little spot of fur behind each of her ears.

“Hey, I saved someone's life."

Gale wordlessly took his phone from his pocket, showing him the text he'd already gotten from Benny, "Just FYI - let the record show that the guy knew how to swim and your boy did not have to jump in after him."

Uh, since when did his team all acquire his boyfriend's number just for the purposes of ratting him out?

"Well how was I supposed to know that?! It’s called due diligence."

Either way, he'd ended up with what seemed to either be a wicked cold or the beginnings of the flu for his trouble.

"You make up for your lack of sympathy with your excellent bedside manner, Doctor" John said, talking half to himself as Gale strode out to the kitchen at the sound of the kettle whistling.

He continued as the other man reappeared a minute later, a steaming Fire Department-branded mug in one hand, his own filled travel mug in the other. "Huh, that's kind of funny, seeing as you will be and everything. Dr Cleven."

“Not that kind of doctor,” Gale muttered, and John breathed out a faint laugh. He knew the difference, duh, but it was cute when Gale interpreted things so literally sometimes before he could think about it.

Gale quirked a brow as he set the mug down on John’s bedside table, batting aside lozenge wrappers and tissues with the rim of it to make room.

"Y'know what has an even better ring to it, though? Dr Gale Egan..."

When the idea of marriage came up between them, it was always in an abstract, vague kind of sense, underpinned by off-hand comments and passing jokes relaying the image of some version of their life that lay a safe distance away on the horizon. It wasn't right in front of them yet, but it felt comfortably inevitable, which made talking about it casually not really a big deal. One of the more common jokes being what they do in terms of surnames.

Gale could tell John was sentimental about his father's name in a way he himself wasn't about his own. It was never said so outright, but he got the sense that it was either a matter of hyphenating (even with John's arguments that neither Cleven-Egan or Egan-Cleven 'sounded right'), or Gale taking John's.

When Gale thought about the idea of shedding his father's name, he felt so much nothing it almost pissed him off because shouldn't it evoke something? Is that not the most normal reaction to losing such a defining part of your identity, feeling some sense of sadness? Of loss? It felt more to him like shrugging off a grimy, weather-beaten old coat turned threadbare in the elements, not particularly pleasant but reliably familiar. It was simply what he had.

Looking now, he took in the pallid, rheumy face and contrastingly long, firm lines of a man who loved him like John loved him. Who loved him so shakeably, proved to him over and over seemingly without even really having to try; who made it look easy. Who loved him in a way he didn't think he ever could be loved, or be prompted himself to love like he loved John back.

"Well, then I guess you have until I finish my PhD to marry me."

There was a weird beat of silence and neither seem to be sure whether they were still joking or not.

“You saying you want to marry me? Is that a proposal? A deathbed proposal?” The look that bloomed on John’s face was as adorable as it was utterly insufferable. It was, however, quickly dispelled however by a sudden sneeze. He reached for more tissues, the groan that followed evidently vexed.

It cut through whatever tension had inadvertently bled into the moment, though, and Gale smiled. “Bless you. Tempting proposition that it is…” Gale finally said, as he checked his watch. When he continued, there was an edge of regret in his voice. “If I want to be Dr Anything I’d better get going.”

A noise echoed from John's throat, half displeased, half mournful.

Gale sighed and leant forward, bringing a gentle hand to John's fever-flushed cheek, his thumb stroking lightly on the sharp angle of his cheekbone. "Now, you get some sleep and drink plenty of water, you hear me? You can have more of these here pills in like a couple more hours. I should be home around 3ish, but text me if you need anything or your temperature gets any higher."

His voice was as even and steady as ever, only John tell he was fretting slightly by how unsettled his hands were, and how they kept touching him, fiddling with the blankets, smoothing things down that were already smoothed down as he spoke.

John reached out and grab Gale's wrist, stilled it, in a odd reversal of their usual roles. "Okay, okay..." he acquiesced lightly, easily, and was immediately rewarded when Gale's fingers laced into the sweat-damp curls that had fallen down into his face, moving them aside so he could press a kiss to his forehead. His lips lingered for an achingly welcome half-beat, before moving to press another to his cheek.

Gale tore himself away then, grabbing his wallet, keys, and the steaming travel mug where he'd abandoned them on the dresser, and tossed his bag over his shoulder. A few second later, he was gone.

“Dr Gale Egan” is all John thinks about for the rest of the day.

In between naps, that is.

#clegan #bucky x buck #john bucky egan #gale buck cleven #masters of the air #all bucky can think about that entire dayquil pickled afternoon: ''did buck just.... give me permission to ask him to marry me.....'' #BIG day for the parish. (the parish in question being john egan and his incessant need to wife that man up) #thank you so much for the prompt!!!! i was inspired immediately and had so much fun with it #i may use more prompt request real estate to write more of my firehouse buckies if everyone's amenable lol #my writing #📝: firehouse!au

[spctrsgf]

laser tag

summary: first date w marc BRO I NEED HIM (i'm just a girl)

word count: 1.2k

warnings: language?? i don't think this one needs any??? crazy unheard of ik i just miss my man

a/n: me spawning every three months to drop a piece ain't cool I KNOW BUT LIFE HAS BEEN SO BUSY i miss u guys i am trying so hard to be more active :((((

Marc.

Marc Spector.

His name is Marc Spector.

His name is Marc Spector, and he is downright nervous.

His palms are sweating, this is getting embarrassing. It's just a date. All he had to do is get dressed nice, the verdict being in something that he'd found in the back of his closet. It's been ages since the last time he'd needed to suit up, in not his Moon Knight getup.

He walks back to his mirror, turning to the back to make sure all of his clothing is straightened properly for what feels like the millionth time. He runs his hand down the back of his suit, bringing himself to face front and tightens his bowtie.

This is stupid. He pulls off the tie, unbuttoning the first button of his shirt and flattening it nicely against his collarbone. A tilt of his head to the clock tells him the time: 5:45. He shakes his hands out lightly, trying to muster up some sort of confidence before he grabs his keys and makes his way out the door.

He navigates his way to the place you two had picked out, nervousness bending to excitement as he sees the flashy sign. Its effervescent light is so enticing he finds himself pumping on the gas in excitement. After parking and stepping out of his car, he sees you at the door. 

Well, that's sure to stop him in his tracks.

You're dressed up in his favorite color. You’d asked him, the night before. He snorts. What a sneaky move. Your outfit fits you perfectly, and your smile when you notice him is to die for. He feels his hands getting clammy again and his cheeks dusting as he wills his wobbly knees to move towards you.

“Hi,” he drops out, nearly breathless as he comes within talking distance. You're even more stunning up close. “You look…” You smile brightly at him, your own cheeks pink as you giggle at him. “Hey, Marc. You look,” you pat his chest, pulling at the edge of his shirt. “As well.”

He shoved your shoulder lightly. “Shut up.”

“My bad, sir.” You tease.

“Don't hit me with that,” he pushes open the door to the place, letting you walk in ahead of him. “I’m paying. Could get you a shitty gun.”

You toss your head back at him with a tilt. “Please. You know I’d still be better than you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Keep telling yourself that.”

You both giggle as you make your way up to the front desk, Marc buying all of the tickets and you leaving punchy lines the whole way through. Soon enough, the two of you have been suited up and are ready to play. 

You two had decided that you would be on the same team, fighting against another sweet couple who were just as determined to win. “Marc, look at his shirt,” You point towards one of the men's shirts. “It's white. What a bold move.” Marc snorts, but you're right; the shirt glows like headlights. You can't miss it. “How good do we think he is?” He whispers back.

“Either really fast or a newbie who doesn't quite know they use UV lights yet.”

He snorts. “Laser tag newbie. Who hasn't played laser tag?”

“Not everyone.” You bump his shoulder. 

“Watch the video, baby.”

“Oh, pet names,” you giggle as you face the screen with a shit eating grin. “Didn't know we were there yet.”

“We don't have to be.” Panic flashes across his face.

“No, no. I think it's sweet.”

With that, you two go silent, both blushing from the high of your banter. You make your way out into the room soon after, settling into a competitive spirit. You quickly map out your plan to tackle the other couple based on what you had seen and previous experiences with laser tag, kicking into rapidfire excitement with Marc on your heels.

The game will start in… the automated voice booms on the loudspeaker, nearly scaring you. Marc giggles at your surprise, but a sharp slap to the side quickly quiets him. 

3…

He turns his focus to you, admiring the way your brows are furrowed in concentration and your fingers flex impatiently in time with the dart of your eyes. You're locked in, solely focused on the game.

2…

Your lips curl into a slight smile. You know he's looking at you; he hasn't quite figured out that subtlety, you've gathered. It's exhilarating, confidence boosting, to have someone so blatantly admiring you. 

1…

He realizes he's staring. That’s so creepy, he scolds himself, turning forward and remaps the room in front of him. He scouts out the best hiding spots, how to get to where he needed to go, kicking into his dump of internal lunar habits.

Fight!

He's off in a flash, bounding forward in a mess of anticipation and adrenaline. He's determined to impress you, ready to rub it in– only a little– when he places first and you second. 

Oh, is he in for a shocker.

You’ll give it to him. His moves are so smooth and calculated. He moves with the agility of a cat, dipping left and right. His eyes scan for any movement, so meticulous you’d think that maybe there was a cat up in his brain, telling him what moves to make next. But he lacks one thing. In all his glory, in all his advantages, you have one thing to top him. 

Patience. 

You pause, you don't move to take the higher ground, you crouch, and you wait. You let one of the men come forth, let him think you didn't see the way he crept behind the block to your left. You let him think he won. 

He launches forward, as you had expected, triumphant in the thought that he had captured you, unbeknownst to you. You turn, shutting one eye and slamming your finger down on the trigger button.

The shot seems to go in slow motion to you and to the man. It felt like a shot out of a movie, so picturesque that you couldn't breathe through the cliche. It blips into the plastic on his chest with a blue flicker, surprising him. You can hear his confidence shatter with the ring of the buzzer.

The man turns, heading back to his base to revive himself, only turning back once to nod with a sense of respect. You tilt your head back at him, smiling. With that, you dart off towards where you see Marc, gaping at you from behind a barricade.

Your free hand cups his cheek as soon as you get close enough to touch him, bringing your face up and just a hare's breath away from his own. “How'd I do?” You murmur. He blinks helplessly at you, barely managing to conceal his groan when you pull away from him.

“C’mon, lover boy,” you turn back, ushering him forward. “We got a laser tag game to win.” He follows you without a question nor a word, a dumbstruck smile painting his face.

He definitely chose the right person.

#marc sillies :3 #moon knight #moon knight tv #moon knight imagine #marc spector #marc spector imagine #oscar isaac #oscar issac characters #marvel