#unless you say that white is -indeed- a background

[nine-of-words]

Something Borrowed (Part Ten)

M Gargoyle x M Reader

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Wordcount: 5127

Content Warnings: Discussion of a Breakup

The horrors have been numerous and persistent for me lately, so this part took its sweet time getting written. Not much else to say about this chapter, other than I’m very excited to write the next one!!

It seems that things are determined to go sideways today. 

“Sorry to drop all of this on ya so early, but I knew you’d be awake.” Your sister’s voice comes through the speaker of your device.

You are indeed awake. You haven’t been sleeping well lately, despite it feeling like what you do the most these days- no idea why that would be- so you were already up and slowly trudging through your morning routine. But now you’re distracted with the call, going through making yourself a desperately needed cup of coffee mostly by feel in your dimly lit apartment kitchen.

“It’s okay- So, how exactly did this happen?”

“She took a wee tumble down the stairs. Got up in the middle of the night to get water, fell ass over kettle.”

“Oh, spirits. But you said it wasn’t serious, right?”

“Eh. Fractured her wrist, or so the doctor says. Right, Ma?” You hear a bit of noise in the background that sounds remarkably like your mother being quietly muttering in a displeased manner. “She’ll be right as rain soon enough. But she’s going to be in the cast for a tick.”

“Do I need to book a flight?”

“Hmm. You know we love to see ya- but nah. It's really not all that dire. Think she's tired of all the fuss by now, really.” She explains, before immediately switching into compulsory older sibling teasing. “Plus won't your new fella miss you? Unless you want to bring him along to meet what he's got to look forward to joining up with.”

“Haha… Yeah, you’re right. I suppose you’ll just have to wait…” You haven’t told them he’s not exactly your fella at the moment. What would you even say?

After a bit more conversation, Emer puts your mother on, and you speak to her for a short while. It assuages your worry a little, but not nearly enough to take the edge off. Though she's adamant you don't let her little mishap scare you into making sudden travel plans, you can't help but let it add to your ratings worries.

Maybe… you should go home?

You hang up your voci and look down at the brewed coffee that’s just started to drip through the filter. In your absent minded state, you’ve managed to put the exact mug you’ve been avoiding into the machine.

But there it is, the pink and white curves of ceramic reminding you of everything you're trying to push out of your mind.

You let out a long, frustrated sigh, pausing to stare vacantly at the mug.

Maybe putting an ocean between you and here will help you forget what you could have right now instead, if you weren't cursed.

You have all day to sit on it, you suppose, and can make a decision later. But you do have a business to run in the meantime, so you return to the process of adding your usual milk and sugar. 

It doesn’t help the bitter taste at all today.

Things don’t really go much better for you the longer the day progresses. 

“This is too sweet,” The older woman across the counter says, brandishing the mostly eaten cupcake in its paper lining. “I want a refund.”

“Well, it's a cupcake, m’am. It is mostly sugar…” You don’t even have the energy to muster your usual level of pleasantness. You barely keep from grimacing as you ring up the refund, just to get this person out of your hair.

Your customers are usually not this problematic, but you’re beginning to think that no one is having a good day today. You can deal with grumpy or picky people, but usually they’re not quite so many of them in a concentrated blast. Every little interaction is finding its way under your skin, and that’s not even taking into account how hard it is to concentrate and get any meaningful progress done.

Though, this is a task you’ve been pointedly avoiding that you’ll have to start sooner or later, today.

You’ve got to finish putting together Devin and Trevor’s cake- if you want it to be solid enough to put flowers in before delivery tomorrow night, which is rapidly approaching the longer you dawdle.

As in, nearly can be measured in hours instead of days soon.

It was different when it was just… anonymous cake layers you were cutting out and leveling. That could’ve been for anyone’s cake! But the more personality that goes into it, the more the subtle, nagging grief makes it difficult to work on.

You sigh and glob a stabilizing dollop of the vanilla buttercream- Trevor's choice- onto the base with your offset spatula.

It’s not as if you’re jealous that your ex is getting married at this point. You’re far past the stage of wanting him back by now. It just… all seems so unfair. Hopeless. He was able to wound you so deeply when he left- and just when you thought you had healed and moved on, carved out some new happiness for yourself- that got taken away, too.

Why should he get to be happy when you’re on the short end of the stick again?

You center a cake layer, then slather some more buttercream, spreading it out to make a glue for the next layer to adhere onto.

You’ll just have to think about it as Devin’s cake. It’s for your friend. That’s how you’ll get through this. You’ll do a good job, for your friend. Even if she’s marrying your ex, she should still get the best cake you can make for her, like you’d do for any other client.

Another layer of cake. A layer of elven berry compote that you made fresh yesterday- also Trevor’s choice, naturally. Another layer of cake. Then, repeat it all again.

As much as you try to rationalize that to yourself as you work through applying the crumb coat, you can’t help but realize you’ve been white-knuckling the spatula handle by time you’ve finished applying the buttercream.

Eventually, you have all of the crumb coated tiers ready on cake boards, to be given another coat and assembled after they’ve firmed up for a bit.

You mercifully shut the disassembled cake in the cooler, relieved that you don’t have to look at it for another few hours. Though, you have to hand it to yourself, even when your life is falling apart, you can make a bang-up gorgeous cake.

The demands of your business don’t stop just because you’re having a bad day and have other things to do, unfortunately. You’re not sure what portal to Hell has opened nearby, but it seems like all of the most awful customers have all decided to come to your shop today to take out their anger on you.

“No, we don’t do tiered pies here. I don’t even know if you’d be able to do that without making a mes- Well, okay. Have a nice day-” You say, though the person on the other end of the line has already hung up on you.

You turn to face the customer waiting at the counter, but before you can even greet them, they interrupt you with a snapping of their fingers.

“Where’s our waiter? I put our order into the kiosk twenty minutes ago and no one has even been by to so much as pour our water!”

“Oh, well, you can eat-in here, that’s what the seating is for, but we’re not a full service-”

“Ugh, fine! Just get me my order already, then.” The customer barks and you have to bite your tongue to restrain yourself from snapping back.

By time you reach another lull in activity and get back to work on Devin’s cake, your jaw and shoulders are fully tensed.

Since it’s slow, you take out the gumpaste. You have another tray of roses to sculpt so they can dry on time to place them tomorrow, so you might as well knock it out sooner than later.

Maybe none of this would be getting to you so much, but the full weight of the wedding being tomorrow is bearing down on you. The one saving grace is that Kirby will be there to distract you- at least you won’t be alone. You’ll deliver the cake, you’ll get through the ceremony, you’ll stay for a brief yet socially acceptable amount of time at the reception, and then you’ll go home and this whole excruciating ordeal will be over.

You just have to finish this cake and get through tonight first.

Only a few more hours until close. 

You can do this.

You make it another hour, rolling thinned pieces of sugary paste into delicate petals, before the bell door rings, and the person you see walk through the door gives you pause.

It’s not Carlyle, as you’ve been hoping it was every single time you hear the shop bell jingle since the last time you saw him. But it certainly looks like him, in everything but personal styling, and of course, the shape of the quartzose horns protruding from his brow.

Today it seems he’s left his body glitter at home, however. He’s dressed in relatively casual clothing; a hoodie (midriff still intact), untied slim joggers, immaculately clean sneakers. The difference is so staggering you might not have even recognized him as the same person, compared to his last visit, if he didn’t have Carlyle’s face; which you can now see clearly underneath his loose brown curls, this time not covered by the shadow of his hood.

“Hey.”

He gives you a tilt of his chin in acknowledgement and smiles an uncannily similar, fanged smile to the one you’ve grown accustomed to seeing. It’s a stab of pain, how sorely you miss it right now, and seeing it again, but just different enough to not be it.

“Uh. Hi, Marcus?” You say in a stilted manner, not really sure how to proceed. “You are… looking less gilded today than last time.”

“Hahahah, yeah. I didn’t have work last night, dude. No hangover!”

“Hah. Right…”

“But good to see you again, man! …I was wonderin-”

“Listen, if you’re here to deliver a message or something, I really can’t do this right now.” You cut him off, begging more than anything at this point to not have another thing go wrong or a twist of the knife today. You scrub at your face with your forearm to keep your hands sanitary, the deep pit of frustration starting to bubble out of you unintentionally. “And he knows to not-”

“Hey, no man, listen! It’s nothing like that.” He pats his curls down, the same way that his brother occasionally does with his dreadlocks when he’s smoothing out a misunderstanding. “He’d be PISSED if I knew he was here, hahah. He told me never to come here on my own after last time!”

“Well, maybe you should follow his instruction on that matter.” You say dryly and continue to roll the soft substance in silent judgement. “He usually knows what he’s talking about.”

Marcus seems to take this as a bad sign, his face twisting into a look of exasperation.

“Fine! Gimme a dozen cupcakes then. Fuck, make it any flavor, dude, I don’t even care.” He starts rifling through his pants pockets, finally pulling out his wallet, and then a card that he puts on the counter. It’s got his name printed on it, rather than Carlyle’s, so you suppose he’s gotten it replaced since the last time. “You’ve gotta talk to me if I’m a customer ‘n shit, right?”

“You know I do have the right to refuse service to you…?”

“Yeah man, but I don’t think you’re gonna! You’re too nice, from what I’ve heard.” Marcus says with the sort of shit-eating grin on his face that absolutely makes you want to refuse service to him, but with a vengeance.

“Well if you’re not here on your brother’s behalf…” You sigh in your own matching exasperated look and set down your gumpaste project to start boxing a dozen cupcakes. “Why are you here, then?”

“I’m gonna be totally honest with you, dude. He didn’t send me, but it is about him. I’m like, super worried about him.”

“Oh…” You can’t help yourself, you have to ask. “Is he alright…?” 

“Hell no! He’s all fucked up, man! The other night, I left at 8pm and he was still in the same spot at 11am when I got back in. Same book, same fit, same stale cup of coffee. He had sat still in the same place reading whatever nerd shit he was reading for so long that he deadass went half solid.” 

You can’t find the words to respond to that. The guilt gnaws at you like you gnaw at your bottom lip, but in a strange way, you feel validated that he’s still as messed up about things as you are.

“Look, whatever he did, it can’t be that bad, right? It’s Lyle!! He like, never fucks up like that.” He leans over the counter, talking with his hands in another show of familiar, yet foreign-in-this-context expression. He taps his chest with the fingertips of a spread hand for emphasis. “And I would know, ‘cuz I’M the family fuck up here. So, maybe you could like, just forgive him and junk? Make up or whatever?”

“It’s not…” You take a second to steady your breath. You’ve been trying to suppress these feelings for weeks, and now they’re getting dragged up so suddenly. “It’s not something he did. It’s… outside circumstances…”

You hesitate for a brief moment before you pick out the last of the random assortment; an orange and mixed spice flavor you found yourself trying out.

“That’s it? There’s no gettin’ around it, huh?”

“No. I'm sorry. It's complicated. I just can't.” You say with weakened conviction as you tape the box up, and then hoping to persuade yourself once again, add; “It’s better this way.”

“Right-” Marcus straightens up and rocks back and forth on his feet, his sneakers squeaking slightly against the tile with the motion. “Sorry if pushing was out of line, dude.”

“Don't worry about it- honestly, I'm sort of glad you showed up.” You smile, bittersweet. “It’s good that he has someone looking out for him.”

“Yeah.” Marcus smiles a conflicted smile back, then takes his cupcakes to go. “See you ‘round, dude.”

You find yourself having a silent argument with yourself as you finish the rest of the roses.

There’s the guilt, of course. Are you a bad person if you know that this separation is hurting you both, and yet you’re continuing to enforce it? Maybe you should have just let Marcus convince you to reach out?

Seeing someone with such familiar features has only made your heart ache that much more for what you’re missing.

Perhaps it’s for the best that you don’t have any customers in the shop at the moment, because they’d be able to clearly see you sneering at empty air and grumbling to yourself.

By the time you finish the last petal on the last rose of the tray, you’re no closer to having resolved your internal disagreement.

You put the roses away, and pull out your fully set, crumb-coated cake. Now just to put the final layer of frosting on, and then you’ll be done for the night.

As you set the tray down on the counter, your voci starts ringing in your pocket. You remove your gloves and answer the call, seeing that it’s Kirby. They’ve been checking in on you a lot more often lately, like you’re a sickly pet needing constant supervision. They're not entirely wrong.

You greet them as you put them on speaker. Then you wash up, and reglove as their voice comes through on the other end.

“So! How is your day going so far?”

“Oh, you know. Typical weekend customers. Ma broke her wrist.” You say flatly, smoothing out the buttercream on the top of the lowest cake tier with a spin of the stand with well-practiced motions.

“Oh no! That’s terrible! Is she okay??”

 “She’s fine, but it’s still stressful that I can’t be there to help out.”

Once you’re finished getting a perfectly even, level surface on the lowest tier, you begin the process again on a slightly smaller scale on the next largest cake tier.

“Mmm. Yeah, it must be, being so far away.”

“And Carlyle’s brother came into the shop earlier.” You continue, now lathing more buttercream onto the sides.

“Whaaaat??? No!! Glitter Boy?! Oh my SPIRITS you’ve gotta tell me all the details right now!”

“There’s not a lot to say, really. Told me Carlyle’s not taking it well either, and now I feel like a villain.”

“You’re not a villain,” Kirby sighs. “Sometimes things are just. Y’know. Messy.”

You continue to make your way through doing the final coat on the cake tiers, each one going progressively faster as they diminish in size.

“Oh, and how could I forget- I’m making a cake for my ex’s wedding that social pressure is forcing me to attend. So you know. The usual.”

“Hahah- Ooh, bummer. Well, when you put it like that, it does sound like, toooootally miserable! You’re having a pretty horrible day, and I’m… definitely not about to make it worse, hahah!!”

“Oh no.” You hiss through gritted teeth. “Something’s wrong, then?”

They laugh nervously, a little giggle-whimper that you can’t possibly be irritated with.

You’re silent as you begin to fill a piping bag with buttercream, waiting for Kirby to divulge their information.

“I MAY have some bad news.”

“Oh. Lovely. Just grand! More bad news is exactly what I need at this current moment.” You say, dripping with sarcasm.

“I know!!! Believe me, I know! But I wanted to tell you as soon as I found out.” Kirby sighs. “I just got out of a meeting with my boss and they’re sending me out of town on a case. I have to get on a red eye in a few hours.”

“But… the wedding is tomorrow…”

“Yeah, that would be the problem! But I can’t exactly tell my boss to fuck off and still have a job, y’know??? Soooooo. We are in. damage. control. mode!”

“It’s okay.” You say, it not really being okay at all, but not wanting to lash out at your friend who’s only ever tried to help you in any given situation. You’re simply too stunned to even start to panic.

“Nope! It’s ABSOLUTELY not! But I’ll be there in like, an hour!! I’ll bring dinner and we can totally figure out a plan B, okay? Or I guess plan C or D by now- But bestie, I don’t care if I have to HIRE an escort to take you to that wedding, you’re not going alone! Especially not because of stupid work interference!!”

“Hah- A-Alright.” You laugh weakly and speak through a sharp intake of air, but manage to not sound like you’re about to burst into tears, even though you desperately want to. “See you soon.”

The call ends, but you continue working, despite the rapidly expanding pit of terror in your gut and the sting at the back of your eyes.

This news, surprisingly, does not help your ability to finish this cake.

You keep going, but not without roadblocks. Your eyes screw closed in frustration and pain. Your teeth grit. Your hand clenches around the bag, nearly squeezing the frosting out of the back end of it.

As a small mercy, closing time finally comes and you turn off the light, though you leave the door unlocked, given you’re expecting Kirby sometime in the next hour or so.

You need to move on to piping some of the finer details- But you can't even think about piping an even line right now, not with the way your hand is trembling.

Still, you persist, pushing the bag back taut and re-twisting the open end. 

“Stop. Shaking.” You hiss out loud at yourself, your body refusing to obey even your own verbal instructions.

You just need to get this cake done. Is that so much to ask?

Kirby is coming over and you’ll find a solution for the wedding. You won’t have to go to your ex's wedding alone. It will be fine.

The tremor in your hand nearly causes you to stab through the layer you’re working on with the piping tip, so you take a moment to straighten up your posture and try to loosen your locking muscles. You take a few calming breaths, then go back in and manage to finish the last few filigree details on the tier you're working on.

Your hand is already shaking again. You ignore it. You’ll get through this. You have to.

But every time you regain focus, the thought of Carlyle as a miserable and inert statue keeps creeping back unbidden into your mind.

It’s all too much. Too much. Too much.

The lights above you flicker. A buzz of energy ripples through the room.

The pressure on your chest is unbearable now. Blood rushes in your ears. 

You can’t deal with this anymore.

You can’t even think-!

POP-

In an instant, something cold and cloying splatters across the side of your face and the bridge of your nose, the front of your shirt, your clenched hands and outstretched forearms.

You bring a hand to your face in shock, blindly testing the sudden change in texture.

Your fingertips come away coated in sticky, sugary goop, and bits of shredded vanilla sponge cake.

And where the cake tiers were sitting on the counter, there’s a conspicuous absence of a cake, only the sparse large chunk of shrapnel- a bloodless crime scene, the mostly empty, frosting smeared cakeboards evoking the essence of a chalk body outline.

Well. You’ll be damned.

The cake exploded.

Hoarse, incredulous laughter escapes your throat- first in disbelief, then in bitter resignation. No other reaction really seems to suit this situation more.

Because your life is a joke. A bad joke.

Your laughs thin out, turning into choked sobs. You sink down until you’re sitting on your cold shop floor with your back against a cabinet, and bring the lower clean edge of the apron up to cry into.

Eventually, the unrestrained weeping quiets into silent tears Time has passed, as evidenced by the sky beginning to darken outside. 

“Heeeeellooooo~! I’m heee-” You hear a familiar voice call out and then equally familiar hoof falls on the tile. There’s a rapid change in their tone, making a 180° turn into hushed concern. “Oh. Well fuck, that doesn’t look good-” 

After a few moments, Kirby rounds the counter, an inquisitive look on their face.

You can’t even muster the embarrassment to be seen like this, too tired and emotionally drained and just simply done with it all.

You expect a look of pity or maybe some awkward fussing, but instead, Kirby simply gives you a knowing smile.

“What a mess!!” Kirby shakes their head, curls tumbling as they assess the damage. “You’re not hurt, are you, honey?”

You shake your head weakly, rubbing at your eye with your inner wrist.

“Good! Well then, let’s get this all cleaned up!” They chirp and reach out their hand, palm up.

After the moment it takes to recognize the gesture, you take their hand. Kirby’s grip is surprisingly strong for being such a petite faun, and they easily manage to help you to your feet.

“You don’t have to-” 

“Well I’m NOT going to let you sit here and cry covered in frosting all night.” Kirby laughs, beginning to roll up the sleeves of their work shirt. “So. Yes I do~”

“...Thank you.” You sniffle.

“Don’t mention it!!” They laugh. “You go get cleaned up and I’ll start tackling this absolute disaster zone!”

You trudge upstairs and debate on the benefits of a full shower before deciding that it’s worth it, even if ten more cakes explode. You’re uncomfortably sticky down your neck and arms. 

Maybe you can wash this day away, while you’re at it…

Before long you’re redressed and coming back downstairs- if not feeling completely refreshed, you at least now have it in you to face the (suddenly much longer) list of tasks ahead. Kirby has gotten most of the cake into a trash bag, and is wiping down the counter.

“There, you look much better! Now, come tell me what was happening when this happened, will you?”

You join them, grabbing a sanitizer rag and beginning to help wipe down the closest surface. You describe as best you can exactly what you were doing, feeling, and thinking about when the cake exploded, just as you’ve explained to them about the previous incidents that you weren’t physically present for.

“Hmm.” Kirby hums quizzically. “Well, the good news is I’ve got a potential solution for the wedding dilemma.”

“Oh?” You’d be lying if you said that the promise of a stressor being removed didn’t sound divine.

“Actually, I’ve already convinced Rosario to go with you, if you want, while I was on the way over. Did you know that she’s surprisingly easy to bribe?!” Kirby giggles. “But to be honest- I didn’t even need to bribe her!! She agreed before I offered anything in return. Apparently wedding cake and an open bar is enough reason for her to turn up, or so she said. But I think it’s because she likes you.”

“That’s… very kind of her.” She wouldn’t be the worst companion for the event- you’ve grown quite fond of her presence in your shop, prickly attitude and all.

“Yeah! She’ll easily make your ex just as uncomfortable as I was planning to, all on her own merit, hehe!! BUUUUUT, I think you know what I’m about to say-”

“Don’t…”

“You should call him!” Kirby says in the most obnoxiously sing-song sweet tone they can, and you wince hard.

“I can’t-”

“But you can~!!”

“But I don’t think I should-”

“Well, maybe you should think again, sweetie!! You absoluuuuutely should! Because if this-” Kirby motions to the partially cleaned up buttercream splatter still coating the vicinity. “Isn’t proof enough that it’s not a him problem, I don’t know what would be!!”

You drag a palm across your face, overwhelmed, and heave a sigh.

“At the end of the day it’s your choice! I can’t make you call him. But you miss him, and he misses you! I know this for a fact! And SPIRITS is he being SO insufferable about it!! And so are you!!!! And it’s just a BIT silly to keep drawing this out like this.”

“But… I don’t want him to get hurt…”

“Listen. We know there’s something attached to you- Rosario’s exorcism attempt confirmed that much. But there’s no like, actual indication that any of that is related to what’s happening with the curse. It’s just not how this kind of magic works. We’re almost certain we’re dealing with two unconnected, non-standard issues complicating each other at this point- some sort of spirit attached to you, and some sort of ley-based magical compulsion in play- but we don’t know the source of where either of those things are coming from. Yet.”

“Right.” You say, pausing your cleaning work to take in the new information.

“Though, someone has some very promising ideas about the later being some sort of messed up geas, and Rosario seems like she has a hunch on what is in the shop.”

“But… it just feels like it’s getting worse. Not that I don’t appreciate your efforts, of course…”

“I know it feels that way. But I am good at my job! And I’ve been keeping track of the numbers this whole time, y’know?? I’ve got the DATA. Do you know what I’ve noticed the most as a trend over the time I've been working your case?”

You simply shake your head to give them time to build dramatic tension before they continue.

“The cakes explode more when you’re upset!! Like, a whole, whole lot more! And quite frankly at this point, in my professional opinion, you being separated from him is making it WORSE!!”

“...You really think it’d be okay to ask him-” To go back to how it was before, to be with me again; you want to say, but end up continuing instead; “to come with me to the wedding?”

You have the feeling Kirby understands what you wanted to say, anyway, based on their pleased expression, like they’re finally getting the message through to you.

“You’re my friend!! And as your friend, I am HEREBY giving you the permission that you’re not giving yourself! I wouldn’t be suggesting this to you if I didn’t think it was safe.” Kirby squarely lays their hands on you on the shoulders, though they need to reach up slightly to do it. “If anything, having him there might keep you from getting bent out of shape at your ex and blowing up the second cake, like, at the actual wedding.”

“That would be horrible.” You rasp and find yourself genuinely smiling for the first time all day, trying to blink back the sting of more tears threatening to spill, though this time more out of a sense of appreciation than despair.

“It. Would. Be. HILARIOUS.” Kirby says with a mischievous grin, patting your shoulders with each word for emphasis. “And if it were to happen, I would hope you were recording it. Y’know, for data collection purposes, hehehe!! But it would also be, let’s say: bad for business.”

You manage to finish getting things looking clean, as if nothing bad had happened at all, Kirby has called their ride to the airport.

“Now, I have to go or I’m going to miss my flight and my boss will probably-actually-literally murder me.” 

“And I have a cake to remake.” You quietly lament. “If you want, I can get on the plane and you can make the cake…”

Kirby lets out a string of giggles, picking their carry-on bag off the seat at the counter they stashed it on..

“Hahah- No thanks!! But- Call him.” Kirby repeats as they give you a squeezing hug goodbye. “Or Rosario, if you must. But don’t make yourself go alone. And keep me updated!! All of the juicy wedding gossip, please. I’m definitely going to be bored out of my mind otherwise, hehe!!”

Then they release you from their grip to head out the door with one last wave and a jingle of the shop bell. 

You, on the other hand, let out a long, withering sigh and pull out another set of white cake layers from the cooler.

…It’s going to be a long night.

>> ✨ MASTERLIST >> ☕ KO-FI

#exophilia #monster lover #monster romance #monster x human #monster x reader #gargoyle x reader #gargoyle #male x male #mlm #mxm #male reader #series: something borrowed #oc: carlyle #oc: declan #nine of words

[bunnakit]

Not Me Episode 3 Music

the (not very well kept) secret come out. i am indeed the not me rewatch event organizer. i hope you all are having fun!! anyway, i got like 1/3 through this episode without recognizing any music (other than generic background music gmmtv has used before) and thought this was going to be a small post but they really jammed a lot in the last 2/3

The episode starts back up on Stronger which we already talked about yesterday so we're gonna skip that.

Keep Asking Me - Francis Wells

We first hear this song when Yok is talking to his mother about her most recent job and subsequent loss of that job. I don't really think there's any deeper meaning to be found here, other than maybe the fact that it's implied that Yok keeps insisting he can provide for them; making some kind of connection to the title but I think it's a tad bit of a stretch.

Worlds Apart - Rannar Sillard

Finally some good fucking food! This song begins when the unnamed diplomat hopeful discovers White is a nepotism baby. The name could not be more fitting as we now know from his backstory that he and White truly are worlds apart in their social standings.

(I couldn't find the music for the scene but the scene where Yok punches Gumpa is foreplay, don't @ me.)

We see another appearance from Trade a Moment in the fight with Sean and White - where they are indeed sharing another moment (and blows.)

Waste of Time (Instrumental) - CLNGR

This is the song playing right after Yok takes pictures of a knocked out White. This is another one that I don't really think has any deeper meaning unless you want to read into the fight being a waste of time, or maybe Sean thinking tending to 'Black' is a waste of time - but again, it's a bit of a stretch.

In the Haze - At The End Of Times, Nothing

We hear this during my favorite scene in the entire show. This is just before Gumpa LITERALLY INTRODUCES HIMSELF TO WHITE. He says "My name is Gumpa. I'm the owner of this garage." because he KNOWS this isn't Black, his suspicions are finally confirmed, and he wants to set whomever this is at peace. (Still accepting @porschesbabydaddy my beloved's headcanon that Gumpa did a background check on Black and knew he had a twin. This entire scene is just a love letter to my raging competency kink.)

ANYWAY. I think this song is more for White than Gumpa - White is quite literally in a haze, he's still figuring things out, piecing together who is who, figuring out he doesn't quite have the skillset to keep up (and maybe he's still a little bit dizzy from that punch.)

(iirc this is also a song used quite a lot in other gmmtv shows)

Mountain Top - Marc Torch

This plays immediately when Yok and Dan lock eyes through the chain link fence. If we want to get really flowery (which I always do) we could interpret this as there being a mountain of space between them still, or perhaps Dan is Yok's mountain he's determined to reach the peak of (lmao). Yok has only just begun to understand the scale of Dan and his work, he's just at the very base of the mountain, but someday he hopes to reach the summit. (Also yay more Marc Torch, though interestingly enough this one is NOT royalty free.)

Kids in Love - Tellow, Lill Persson

UGH THE SONG CHOICE. This comes in midway through White cleaning off Sean's bed so he has a place to sleep. The fores sure are shadowing with this song title and it makes my dumb little heart giddy.

Go Season - MILANO

Ahh, the towel tug of war scene. I don't really have any deep comments about this one other than it's another upbeat, jaunty song that pops in during another playful moment between Sean and White.

As Sean says "I don't have a judge for a mother like you." World's Apart surfaces again to punch us straight in the gut.

Feel - Ian Post

I sure am feeling a lot of things. Feel begins just as Sean grabs White's wrist and says they'll sleep like that so White can't slip away. Sean is physically touching White, feeling the skin to skin contact, and perhaps if we want to stretch again (we're going to be so limber today) White is feeling some complex emotions towards someone who was supposed to be perceived as an enemy.

WHEW. that's it for today's episode! that was a lot and i sincerely hope you guys are still enjoying these (they do take me a few hours to make lajkgla i never realized bc i get so hyperfocused and do genuinely enjoy making them)

#not me #not me the series #music #soundtrack #nmrewatch23 #sorry if i fumble some shit my hands are really hurting today

[everygame]

Pac-Land (Famicom)

Developed/Published by: Namco Released: 21/09/1985 Completed: 17/11/2023 Completion: Beat all five levels before it looped. Version Played: Namco Museum Archives Vol. 2 Trophies / Achievements: n/a 

Whelp, I accidentally put this in my spreadsheet as being released in November 198*6* instead of 1985, where it makes a lot more sense. But here’s what I’ll say, immediately: I wish it hadn’t been released until 1986!

Pac-Land is one of the earliest games I remember playing in the arcades, indeed I have memories of playing it in an arcade in Candleriggs Market which hasn’t existed since… the mid-90s? and I remember it being one of my absolute favourites before I graduated to things like Contra. It’s not really hard to see why. It’s colourful, full of character, and easily understandable by a bairn as probably [“probably? Great research”--Ed.] the earliest side-scrolling character action game, coming out a hair ahead of the hella seminal Kung-Fu Master. And it is, in turn, just as seminal, transparently influencing Super Mario Bros.--though it’s extremely amusing to note that Toru Iwatani claims that Shigeru Miyamoto told him the game had a “profound” influence on it, and Miyamoto himself sniffily claims that the only direct influence was choosing a blue background instead of a black one. Pull the other one, Shiggy!

It’s possible that this gave Namco a bit of a complex about Pac-Land, because Nintendo brought out Super Mario Bros. and by all accounts it was immediately a massive hit, and desperate to not fall behind as, after all, they bloody invented the thing, they shoved a Famicom port out of the door as quickly as possible. 

Released, as far as the dates I have here claim, just over two months after Super Mario Bros. hit on Famicom, I would fully believe that they didn’t start development on it until they saw what a hit Super Mario Bros. was, because this is absolutely dire. In fact, I think it might be one of the worst ports of a game I’ve ever, ever played. It is shite on every level.

For one, just look at the screenshot, and compare to what the arcade original looked like. Sure, you can claim that it’s too early in the Famicom/NES life-cycle for people to have got nice big sprites working while also scrolling smoothly, but the background art doesn’t even look finished (and on the Namco Museum Archives Vol. 2 version, you can see multiple bits of glitchy art if you are paying attention). The game literally just cuts seemingly in the middle of a level to get to the arcade game’s “break time” interstitials, which don’t have any of the fairy animations in them at all!

Here’s the most insane thing about it though. It’s so insane I doubt you’ll actually believe me. This came out after Super Mario Bros., and… you use the A and B buttons to move left and right and the d-pad to jump. You know, the directional pad. You use it to… jump.

What? Oh, and there’s a hidden-unless-you-remember-this-from-the-arcade run that you perform by double-tapping. I only worked this out after getting to the second level and wasting loads of time trying to do lots of precise platforming between platforms where you bump your head constantly (a bugbear) and thought it might be unfinishable.

It may as well be, really. There’s only five levels, and insultingly the level design isn’t anything like the arcade original at any point like it’s a port made for the ZX Spectrum where all they had to go on was a bunch of black-and-white faxes of polaroids taken of the game off-screen with the flash on. The first level doesn’t even feature the cars (though according to The Cutting Room Floor, they’re in there) and as the game goes on you can sense Namco panicking that people will finish it in about 20 minutes so they, I guess, innovate again by making you perform some kaizo mario-esque nonsense where you have to ride one enemy to survive a long pit and then, at the very end of the game (spoiler) you have to wait for the clock to run down, and time bouncing off the enemy that is sent to kill you to get across the last chasm!

It’d be a clever idea if the game was a) about that sort of thing and for an audience who were used to the tropes and b) not totally shite.

Will I ever play it again? I’m angered that I’ve ever played it. I look forward to playing the arcade version again one day, though.

Final Thought: I checked, and the ZX Spectrum version is sadly flick-screen rather than scrolling, though it’s probably still better than this. The Amstrad version doesn’t scroll either, but the bastarding C64 does? Boo!

Support Every Game I’ve Finished on ko-fi! You can pick up a digital copy of exp. 2600, a zine featuring all-exclusive writing at my shop, or join as a supporter at just $1 a month and get articles like this a week early.

#gaming #video games #games #txt #text #review #pac-land #pac-man #namco #namco museum archives vol. 2 #1985 #famicom #nes #nintendo

[merrybandofmurderers]

[ID: a banner with Work in Progress Wednesday written in white font on a background of light blue watercolor texture /END ID]

tagged by @gaysolavellan, time for more tranquil oc fic!

~

The Breach looks bigger, somehow, as they cross the bridge back into Haven. Maybe it was the time away, nearly two weeks with the Breach only a green smear above the mountains, which altered Wyeth’s memory of it. But it looks bigger.

He doesn’t like the idea that maybe it is bigger. He squints at it, trying to judge.

“There are more than before,” Gwythren says.

Wyeth looks back at them, follows their gaze to the village. Indeed, it seems bursting with people. “While you were recovering, word of the Inquisition was sent out. Seems like the Chantry’s loyal flock is heeding your call, Seeker.”

Cassandra makes a derisive noise.

The general din of the village is certainly louder. He sees Gwythren’s ears press against their skull as they get closer. A figure breaks away from the jumbled crowd, making a beeline for their party. It’s Bryant.

Wyeth jumps down from his horse. “What’s the problem?”

“A riot, Ser,” Bryant pants. “In front of the Chantry.”

Cassandra is close behind as Wyeth follows the Knight-Corporal into the village proper.

A crowd has indeed gathered before the Chantry. Wyeth sees a large number of Templar plate and Circle robes, but there are just as many civilians and Inquisition standards. There are shouts and scuffles in the dense mass of people, with the loudest coming from the center.

Wyeth pushes through. Behind him, Cassandra is yelling for people to disperse, demanding to know where Cullen and Leliana are. In the center of the crowd, a Templar and mage are hurling accusations.

“Your kind killed the Most Holy!” the Templar snarls.

The mage’s grip on his staff tightens. “Lies—your kind let her die!”

The Templar reaches for his sword just as the air crackles with magic.

After a quick glance ascertains that Gwythren isn’t nearby, Wyeth releases a smite. Not a large one, nothing that will cause harm, just a sharp snap of power that lashes around his feet. It’s enough to do the job.

The mage and Templar flinch, their attention wrested from each other. A few nearby civilians stumble back. A last ripple of noise flows through the crowd before silence falls.

Wyeth stalks forward. “What is the meaning of this?”

The Templar looks him over, sneers, “Who’re you?”

Wyeth folds his arms. “The person who just stopped you from doing something irreparably stupid.” From the corner of his eye, he sees Cassandra and Cullen emerging from the crowd. “Would you care to tell me how fighting and killing each other is at all useful?”

The mage is quiet, expression stoic and unrepentant. Wyeth vaguely recognizes him, a senior enchanter who fought during the initial chaos.

The Templar flusters for words before catching Cullen’s approach. “Commander! Surely you don’t expect us to think mages aren’t responsible for this!” He gestures at the Breach.

“We don’t know who is responsible,” the Seeker interjects. The Templar quails a bit under her cold gaze.

“Unless, of course, you have some proof the mages here are guilty,” Wyeth says, brow raised.

The Templars grinds his teeth and glares.

“Stand down, Knight-Templar,” Cullen says.

“But, Commander—”

“Fighting amongst ourselves solves nothing. We are all part of the Inquisition now, and we must be united to achieve our goal.”

“And anyone who cannot do that,” Cassandra says, voice raised to address the crowd at large, “is welcome to leave.” The words linger in the air, weighted with threat.

“Back to your duties, all of you!” Cullen barks.

The Templar slinks away. The rest of the mob slowly disperses; Wyeth sees Alain’s worried face amongst them. The enchanter looks back as he walks away, but Wyeth can’t discern his expression.

Chancellor Roderick saunters forward with a mocking applause. “A very good show from our aspiring leaders.”

“Now is not the time, Roderick,” Cassandra growls.

He narrows his eyes. “I would say the time is rather overdue, as this incident proves.”

“All it proves is that people are angry and scared,” Wyeth says shortly.

“Which is why we require a proper authority to guide them back to order.”

“Who, you?” Cullen snorts. “Random clerics who weren’t important enough to be at the Conclave?”

Roderick bristles. “The rebel Inquisition and its so-called ‘Herald of Andraste’? I think not!”

“If the proper authority hadn’t completely failed,” Wyeth sneers, “the Conclave wouldn’t have been needed.”

“So you suggest I blame he Chantry and exalt a murderer? What of justice?”

“Yes! That’s exactly what you should do!” Roderick takes a step back at his outburst; Wyeth presses on. “You want to talk of justice? You can’t prove Gwythren is guilty any more than we can prove them innocent. But you’ll be happy to put their neck under an axe just to satisfy your own righteousness—”

“You think nobody cares about the truth? We all grieve Justinia’s loss!”

“You can’t even fathom questioning the Chantry, and you think I’ll trust you with Gwythren’s life? The Circles have taught us exactly how little you’ll ‘grieve’ over a Tranquil’s death.”

Roderick sputters, “I think we’re getting off topic—”

Cassandra attempts to put a hand on his arm. “Knight-Lieutenant—”

He whirls on her. “I don’t want to hear anything from you, Seeker.” She grimaces but doesn’t stop him when he turns back to Roderick. “Your talk of justice means nothing under these circumstances,” he says with a sweep of his arm. “None of this would have come to pass if the Chantry knew anything about justice!”

The chancellor is left red-faced, his mouth gaping like a gasping fish.

“Now fuck off. You’re not putting Gwythren on trial for anything, and we have things to do.” To Cullen and Cassandra, he says, “Let’s find the Nightingale and ambassador and get this fucking trip to Val Royeaux taken care of.”

~

tagging @mrs-theirin, @calicostorms, @fade-and-loathing-in-thedas, @transfenris-truther

#my stuff #my fic #fic: the revolt inside me #oc: wyeth (trevelyan) #cassandra pentaghast #roderick asignon

[memeyqueenybeany6996]

The Teaching Assistant

chapter 5

Working towards a teaching cert was easier said then done. Amelia over the next few has been researching how to get one and schools to go too. She'd rather take night classes and focus on getting a teaching license than full blown education degree, but it seems like that might be the only way to go unless she ask someone else.

Over the week she's only gotten in 10 hours of heroing mostly cause when she would try going out to do patrols one of her brother's grunts would stop her while others called her names which just threw her off her A-Game which isn't good. Even her own supervisor won't give her missions, unless requested by her older brother. She can literally feel everyone's distaste for her.

*Do you think I want my brother to do this either!?* She wants to scream into them their faces but doesn't.

It's Friday night, she's bundled up in sleep shirt showing off her smooth pale legs while her laptop sits in her lap as she just relaxed on the couch. Stubby not to far from her is lazing around by the window as the nighttime life can be seen below.

Soft violin music plays in the background as they relax, it's a getting close to 3 am. She usually stays up late, or at least she did when she was allowed to go on missions but since her brother even lied about the amount of hours (referring to I think Chapter 3 where he said she could work 20 hours), then it's obvious he wants to her fail, to get out of line so he can take her being a hero from her. It's sick to think this is his way of showing his care for her, but what can one do?

She yawns a little and stretches her arms above her head, "man, makes me wanna sleep since I'm not on call but, old habits die hard."

Stubby just gives off a deeper breath, a huff to her words as he also shifts in his place.

Amelia closes her laptop as she places it on the coffee table and get off the couch and walks to the window to look out, "it's kind of breathtaking, wish I could be out their saving living and fight crime."

Just then her phone goes off and she rushes over, *mission!? Am getting called to a fight!!*

When she picks up the phone she notices the numbers out of country, she also notices it's from Japan. She's confused but her curiosity gets the better of her as she answers in Japanese, "Amelia speaking?" She mentally curses not using her last name since she knows that's how it's done over there.

"Ah, is this Tano Amelia? I'm calling due to a letter I received from a mutual friend of ours." A male voice is heard

Amelia remembers the letter she sent out on behalf of Stubby, that was a week ago. Just what did he write in there..?

"Yes, this is she. I'm assuming the mutual friend is a white fured feline." She says in her usual soft tone

There's a chuckle before a response, "yes indeed, I heard he goes by Stubby, a strange name but who am I to judge. Anyways, I haven't introduced myself yet, which I apologize. I'm Nezu, the principal of UA, a hero school in Musutafu, Japan."

Her eyes widen, she knows exactly what school that is, she also knows Nezu by word of mouth is one of the smartest individuals alive today. His exact species is unknown but many assume he's a large rat with more human appendages, or a mixture of different animals like. He could be a stout too but it's not really known what he is exactly.

"M-may I ask why your calling Mr. Nezu." She stutters slightly

"Well, I'm looking for a teaching assistant, and imagine my surprise when our mutual friend sent me a letter saying you would be a perfect fit for the role. He also went into some personal matters, which I probably had no reason knowing about, but regardless I'd like to set up a virtual interview between myself, the person you would be assisting, and yourself." Nezu's voice carries surprisingly well through her phone.

By this time Stubby comes over and is by her side listening into the conversation, which Amelia narrows her eyes at him trying to figure out what 'personal matters' did he put in there about her.

Regardless she takes a deep breath an says, "while I umm thankful for such a offer, I have to say I don't have a teaching license, nor am I a popular hero-"

"None of that concerns me. The teaching license can be worked on when your here, as for being a not so popular hero, you should discredit yourself. Saving a couple thousand people every year is no joking matter. I'm honestly a little disappointed in the ranking system in America you should be very well in the top 50 but it seems you stuck in the 100s. I also have connections over there and know about the incident that occured 6 years ago, I also know how many people view you, including the way as of right now their cutting your hours down. Which I assume is due to the your egotistical, sister complex, brother?"

She just blinks wide eyed.. how did he?

"How did you get all that.." she ask shocked

"I'm a smart person, I know people, have connections in multiple countries. All you need to do is tell me a yes or no answer and I can get started on a work visa for the year, as well as prep for your room and board. I'll take care of everything. I want to see your flourish, I can see the makings of a hero, a better than most now and days. With your quirk, caring personality, you'll go far in Japan." Nezu states

Amelia is in a state of shock, like.. her whole world is upside down.

Nezu then speaks again, "you'll have to take a crash course for your hero license here in Japan since the one you currently have isn't for overseas. This will all be handled, if your up for the task and change of scenery."

"I.. I don't know what to say sir." She says softly clenching the phone

"Call me Nezu, as for what to say, I hope it's a yes."

She thinks back to her life, and how it's gone down hill over the past six to seven years. She thinks of the ridicule, the taunts, the other heros thinking she's riding on her brother coattails, and lastly thinks about her brother. His cold tone, his manipulative way of speaking, how he supposedly cares but can't show it.

*I'll run away from here.. I'll never look back. I'll pave my own path in someplace new. Make friends, live life, do what I want for once and not chase after someone who doesn't even care that am I doing so.*

"Yes, I'll do it. I look forward to the interview, Nezu sir."

"Excellent! How is the same time as now, but this up coming Monday, work for you? Also Nezu is just fine."

"Yes this Monday works fine! Send me a meeting invite and I'll be there.. virtually." She says a tad bit excited and awkward

Nezu chuckles, "send me your email address to this number and I'll send the invite. I look forward to it, goodbye."

"Bye.." she says softly as the other end hands up, she holds the phone tightly as she drops to her knees on the cream colored carpet.

Stubby hops off the couch and nuzzles her as she's there in a state of shock.

"I.. you did this Stubby. How in.. why.." she says softly as tears peak the corner of her eyes in disbelief

Stubby just purrs as his tail wraps around her wrist.

"Why is it that your the only one who's shown me more care than my own brother in the past 7 years I've known you.. your my life saver. If all goes well I'm out of this hell hole.. how can I ever thank you?" Her voice cracks as she looks at her three legged, one eyed friend.

The cat purrs nuzzles her again, she knows what he's saying or trying to get across and she lets out a sob as she go of her phone and picks him up and holds him close to her chest as she stays on the floor.

You already saved my life, I don't need anything else but to see you grow up being a fine hero, making friends, living life. All I need is to stay by your side, my weird human.

#bnha #fanfic #mha #the teaching assistant #aizawa shouta #class 1a #nezu mha

[percontaion-points]

OVE chapters 33-35

The following book review contains violence & gang activity. Reader discretion is advised. 

Click to see the rest of the snark & image descriptions 

Chapter 33

Shanghai was now under the rule of the Nationalist Army—under Chiang Kai-shek, their commander in chief. Juliette shouldn’t have been surprised that it had come to this. He had already seized much of the country, after all; the Northern Expedition had been building for months, after all. But it was the workers who had ravaged the city until it was awash in red. It was the Communists who had led the effort. Then the Communists had asked their workers to give way when General Shu marched his men into the city and set up Nationalist bases before the dust had even settled.

It’s not so much that I mind the story of China on the brink of turning Communist.

It’s that up until this point, all of this stuff had been happening in the background of “oh no! A plague caused by monsters, ruled by crappy white people!” in the background of a Romeo and Juliet story. 

So forgive me if I’m a little frustrated with how the story has completely and utterly abandoned the plague/monster/blackmailer/evil white folk plot in favor of politics. 

It didn’t make sense. The blackmailer was still out there. Unless Juliette had been utterly mistaken this whole time, the blackmailer had to be aligned with the Communists in some way. Yet in this crucial moment, why hadn’t the monsters come out? Why not fight the Nationalist Army off with madness?

This is literally the first time in SO MANY CHAPTERS that the blackmailer or even monster have been mentioned, EVEN IN PASSING. 

Rosalind was raised in Paris, as passably French as anyone in the Concession could be. “Is Rosalind the blackmailer?”

Chapter 33 summary: It’s been a week since the worker riots in the city. Since then, the city has been taken over by communists. At yet another funeral following all of that, Juliette thinks ABOUT THE ACTUAL PLOT FOR ONCE. 

However, one good thing about the timing of the riot is that Tyler’s death (and the deaths of his two men) looks like the result of the workers, not his own cousin. As Juliette lays a flower on Tayler’s coffin, she thinks that maybe the future should be without the Scarlets. Which it’s not that I’m protesting, but why is she suddenly throwing the towel in now, of all times? 

After the funeral, Juliette slips away to be with Roma. And if I thought that the actual love-making scene was dull, let me tell you that them talking about Tyler’s funeral is indeed dismal. 

Anyway, as important of a historical event as that riot was, it’s finally time to get back to the goddamned plot. Roma provides Juliette a name, and she says that he’s on a list Rose compiled of patrons at the club where she works. (Rose who has since disappeared.) Roma says that the man is well-known as a white flower, and Juliette thinks that it’s odd that Rose would have the man’s name… especially if he really is the monster who attacked them on the train. 

She randomly decides that Rose is the blackmailer, from literally one name. I give up. 

Chapter 34

Roma was already marching forward, lifting the plank of wood. “How else are we supposed to take her to Juliette?”

Chapter 34 summary: Juliette looks through Rose’s room to try and find proof of this… or at least, the paper with those names on it. She tries to ask a maid to call down to the cafe where Kathleen should be, but the maid says that since the riot, the phones have been down. (Please remember that this is in the days of switchboard operators. They need workers to manually connect you to whoever you want to talk to.) But as Juliette is writing a note to her cousin, Kathleen comes in. Juliette asks about the piece of paper she’d once seen on Rose’s desk, but Kathleen says that she’s been going through Rose’s things in an attempt to get to the bottom of things. But right as Kathleen hands it over, somebody screams out from downstairs that there’s been another monster attack. 

Meanwhile, we jump over to Rose. Even after everything that she’s been through, upon finding out that the man she thought she was converting was actually only trying to get the info from the scarlets, she’s still trying to convince him to run away with her. EVEN KNOWING THAT SHE WAS PLAYED LIKE A CHEAP KAZOO, SHE’S STILL DESPERATE TO BE WITH HIM. However, when she finally breaks into the man’s apartment, it’s to find everything gone, and having been gone for a few days now. Her segment ends with the monster attacking the city, too.

We jump over to Roma, Marshall, and Ben, who are trying to determine who is the communist spy. Then they jump up and run out with the screams of panic about the monster. They run past panicked citizens, only to come upon the soldiers locked in combat with multiple monsters. Around the fight are dead gangsters from both clans. 

Rose randomly shows up and starts yelling at one of the monsters. Roma mentions that he thinks she could be the blackmailer, but her behavior now doesn’t make any sense. They also wonder why the monsters aren’t releasing insects to kill everybody faster. Roma tells them that the monsters are only attacking those wearing gang colors or nationalists, so to shed their colors (they aren’t wearing any; they’re high-ranking members), so that they can save Rose from her own stupidity and return her to Juliette. 

Chapter 35

“Hello, Bàba,” Marshall spat. “You have terrible timing.”

Chapter 35 summary: Juliette thought that they would go out to face the monsters head-on, but realizes quickly that her father is drawing their forces inward. She tries to tell her father what she’s learned, but as you can imagine, the fascinating tidbit about one of the monsters être français isn’t fucking important right now. She then gets a message from Roma that they have Rose, so she and Kathleen set out. 

They go to the safehouse. The monsters have left, but as you can imagine, the city is still in an immense panic. Juliette confronts Rose, and demands to know if Rose was controlling the monsters. She then says that she can’t help her cousin if she doesn’t talk. Rose says she doesn’t need help.

Juliette then pointedly asks Rose if she’s the blackmailer. She starts to say the names from Rose’s list, but Roma recognizes them as being Demetri’s men. Rose throws the entire thing back into Juliette’s face, saying that they’re the same. Juliette only laughs and says that she and Roma were working to stop the plague. Rose literally and figuratively climbed into bed with a bunch of communist spies. 

Roma then asks if the blackmailer was Demetri. She says that she won’t talk unless they untie her, but Kathleen stops them. Rose then spills her guts. Paul’s last note was to servants on another property he owned, in the white flower district. When they failed to pay rent (you know, cause he was dead), he went in to shake something loose, only to find the insects. She then goes on some communist rant; she’s apparently sided with them now. She also knows stuff about the scarlets not even Juliette knows… But has to spell out for these fuckwits because they’re too stupid to understand: SHE IS A SPY. SPYING IS WHAT SPIES DO. SHE SPIED ON LORD CAI. They try to get Rose to tell them where Demetri is, but she says she doesn’t know. 

Before Juliette can shoot her cousin for her treachery, a bunch of soldiers barge in. Surprise! It’s Marshall’s father. 

#These Violent Delights series #Our Violent Ends #Chapter 33 #Chapter 34 #chapter 35 #plot? what plot? #I would ask where the editor was but I think we all know there was none #Juliette Cai #Roma Montagov #bad writing is bad #Rosalind Cai #Kathleen Cai #Marshal Seo #Ben Montagov

[pencil-for-a-dog]

Ok, I just made this for the pun, no gonna lie

I hope that you all see jasonette bc it was the intention

Have a happy Valentine's day!

#maribat #my fanart #maribat bee movie au #I did all this draw just for a pun #no regrets #6 HOURS #IT WORTH IT #i hope so #i just hope everyone could see Jason and Marinette bc i never learned how to draw jason and Marinette isn't marinette without her pigtails #ª #i almost forgot #jasonette #romantic jasonette #how do the English people call February 14th?? #For English people i mean English speakers #srry #i don't even know how to draw :( #no background #unless you say that white is -indeed- a background

[spidersfanfics]

In Space No One Can Make You Choose

Y/N / The Captain x Mark Iplier / Head Engineer (In Space With Markiplier) | Meta Jokes About CYOA Stories | Fourth Wall is Broken

Too much meta, or is it just too meta? Maybe leaving video format and hopping into some fics is the secret to being happy with Mark Iplier.

I wrote this based on some memes I saw about interacting w/ Engineer!Mark and it's kinda weird? Like the vibes definitely show that I wrote this at 3AM. But hey, it's fun, even if it is a little bleak. And it was important that this come out before Part 2 gets released. So if you're reading it after May 2nd then keep that in mind I guess? Unless it turns out to not affect things at all. In which case disregard.

It’s hard to say what exactly propelled you forward in this darkness of space. Making choice after choice despite the futility, and indeed fatality, of the whole endeavor. Naive optimism? Not yet jaded by the ending of it all. Morbid curiosity? Wanting to know what else could have been, and now is. A drive for completion no matter the cost? Even if that price was far steeper than you could ever hope to pay. Or worst of all, maybe it was just a sick, twisted, glee in seeing other people suffer at your hands. Or at the very least, hands that claimed to be yours.

But no matter the reason, this time, you just can’t bring yourself to do it. Can’t stare Mark in his beaming smile and make the silent call. Not after you had, or perhaps had not, heard the way he thought about you in one timeline or another.

A date? That certainly wouldn’t go well. But he’d still thought it, and it’s the thought that counts. Speaking of thoughts…

“Captain? You’re sort of staring off into space there,” Mark comments in a lighthearted tone as he waves a hand next to your face. “Earth to the captain. Does that joke even land out here in space?”

Very slowly, you turn your head to face him. How much you’ve put him through and yet he still trusts you blindly every single time. You know it’s just the effect you have on people but he accepted it so much easier than most. The knowledge stings just a little. But how do you even begin to convey how sorry you are without saying a word? How do you tell him that you can never be sorry enough for how much he’s had to suffer?

You hug him.

“Captain…” Mark trails off and accepts it, nearly collapsing onto you. Good thing you’re more than strong enough to fling him around with just one hand. You know that from experience. Probably. Mark’s arms find their way around you in response and you hear him take a deep breath in what sounds like an attempt to hold back tears.

When you pull apart, he clears his throat stiffly and nods with only a slight sniffle. “Thanks, Captain. I’m uhh, not really sure why you did that? But I appreciate it.” You just nod.

The wormhole will not let you leave, you realize. Not yet, not until the time is right. And it doesn’t matter how many times you jump in the outcome will not change. There. But maybe, a change of medium will let you take a breather, just for a little while. So as the setting around you fades away into the white noise of the background, you realize something.

“This isn’t our ship.”

Mark fixes you with a startled and somewhat puzzled look. “Captain,” he says slowly, “This is going to sound weird but… it feels like that’s the first time I’ve ever heard your voice. Which makes no sense of course given your famous heartfelt and inspiring speeches but still. Well, I guess maybe heard isn’t quite right, but I do see what you mean. About this ship I mean, I feel it too!” His face breaks out in a wide grin as he grabs you by the arms, “Does this mean we did it? Did we escape the wormhole?”

You start to shake your head a little solemnly but then pause. Why bother burdening him with the knowledge of what is and isn’t? None of that matters here so who cares? There are far more pressing matters at hand. “Mark.”

“Yes, Captain?”

“Do you like me?”

That seems to catch him off guard and it takes him a second to answer. “Of course I do,” he says earnestly, “You’re my captain, I would do anything for you. I’d follow you to the ends of the universe.”

You sigh a little bit and reach out to rest your hand against his face, “But do you like me?”

He tenses up instantly, “Oh uhh, Captain. What’s this about suddenly?”

“I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do,” you reassure him. Sure he’d go along with whatever it is you tried because that’s the kind of person you are but right now you don’t want things to be that way.

“Are you…” he hesitates, just in case he’s still wrong about your intentions. Which he isn’t, you know this. But will he accept it? “You’re not going to kiss me, are you?”

You shrug, “Do you want me to?”

He smiles just a little at that, “Are you offering me a choice? That’s not usually how we do things, is it, Captain?”

You can’t help but laugh too. Somehow, it makes the whole thing a little less insane when someone else acknowledges it. “No,” you agree, “But I think we’re a little past unconventional at this point. So what do you pick?”

“I pick yes, of course,” and so you do. You kiss him, and it’s nice. And even if you’re fated to relive the same fate over and over again, dying countless times for who knows what reason, at least you can die together. More importantly though, at least you can live together. Truly the epitome of what do we have to lose?

If all of your choices just serve to hurtle you towards the same end anyway, then you might as well make that journey an enjoyable one. Right?

Your story is not over yet, you are not done making choices. Things will move forward whether you want them to or not and soon. In about a month or so to be precise, but not in his time. None of that matters here and now though because in this little pocket of pseudo-reality, the two of you can at the very least stay linear. Looping only of your own volition and only ever down a set path. Here, in space. No one can make you choose.

#In Space With Markiplier #Markiplier #Head Engineer Mark #Y/N the Captain #Reader #xReader #Markiplier x Reader #ISWM #Meta #Fourth Wall Breaking #This was so hard to tag on AO3 #Wrote this at 3AM #No beta we die like Markiplier

[golddaggers]

little taste of heaven

pairings: ubbe/torvi, ubbe/you, torvi/you

warnings: nsfw! contains fingering, sex, oral sex, cursing.

a/n: so this an indulging one for me and @stylinsonliving, we are constantly daydreaming about being married to both ubbe and torvi. loosely inspired in the MAGNIFICENT feverish love by the best out there @ritual-unions-gotme, i hope you don't mind, but it sparked my creativity! (the sacred romantic moments request is on the works!

word count: 4,2k+

“She is perfect, is she not?” Torvi’s velvet voice fills the room while her elegant fingers touch the intricate braids embellishing your hair.

King Ubbe stood before you, his gorgeous face disturbed in a serious frown. He’s torn between looking down at you, sitting in your tattered dress on his bed, and his wife, who’s knelt beside you, still touching you like she hasn’t asked you to bed her husband.

The entire situation is odd. You couldn’t quite grasp it was indeed happening, and it was not a figment of a fever dream from an affliction that had stricken you.

Torvi had spent the last couple of weeks watching you. Her pale blue eyes followed you around as you cleaned the tables, swept the halls, and filled up her family’s cups. At first, you thought she was all but making sure you were doing a proper job, then you noticed you were alone under her scrutiny. No other servants' jobs were dissected by their queen. Dread befell you. You were worried you’d be dismissed, sold to another master. So when she made her proposition, astonishment washed over you.

No one was supposed to know Torvi could no longer bear children, nor did she want to. Her king, however, wanted more. Needed more. She confided in you as she broke her fast, between a sip of her summer wine and a spread of honey over a chunk of steaming black bread. No one else had been there with you two. Ubbe had left long before the sun peeked through the white thick curtain of clouds that were ever hovering over Kattegat. The thralls had busied themselves cleaning other chambers while their mistress ate. The cook had gone out to find fresh parsley for lunch. Only you had been left behind, sweeping the dining room, keeping her company. The tales Torvi spoke about seemed far-fetched, you couldn’t believe she meant it until now.

Until he was here.

Parents teach their little daughters not to covet a man’s attention unless he willingly gives it to them. Ubbe never entertained you in any slightest way, however much you wanted him to. You’d been there when he married Margrethe, a secondary character fading in the background now. Then again when the gods blessed his union with Torvi, and when their little son was born. You witnessed it all. The iridescent blue of his scorching glance never found you interesting. Not that he should, either way. You were not extraordinary. Just a normal girl, whose life lacked any sort of wildness.

You didn’t feel so regular at this moment. Not with the ghosting of her lips across your temple, then down to your cheek, meeting the corner of your mouth in all the gentleness existing in the world. It was the first time you kissed a woman. Torvi’s lips were smooth and warm, pushed against yours.

“Do you find it wise?” His voice sounded hesitant, but not displeased. “She does look rather perfect.”

“Take her as your second wife,” She says. She’s so close you can feel her mouth moving to talk. “I want you to. You should have the children you want, even if I can’t give them to you.”

“And does she want to?”

Torvi had settled on your lap in the meanwhile, each of her legs hugging tight the width of your hips. She winked at you as an old-time friend would. Like you shared an unspoken secret. You relish the last brushing of her kiss on the tip of your nose and watch, bewildered, as she rises to a stand. Next to her husband, nothing but a petite thing. They looked so perfect together. Their eyes spoke in silence, the sort of intimacy you never had with anyone. One you longed to have, someday.

“Ask her,” Head tilted to the side, she smiled up at him. “She is a feisty little wolf, this one. That’s why I thought she’d be perfect to bear our children.”

“Do you, pup?” Ubbe kneels before you, both hands, rough and enticing all together, hold the round of your cheeks. He makes you look at him. “Is being my wife something you would want?”

It knocks the breath out of your lungs, having him so close to you. You can see the soft creases on his forehead, the tiny scars that can only bring out the natural beauty of him, and you get an up-close look at those eyes. From a distance, they can do only so much damage, but at this short length, they can wreck a ship. Untamed blue that drowns whoever dares to step closer. A shade of blue that belongs to a wild sea. It belongs to Njörthr himself. You swallow, your shallow breaths sputtering out in utter embarrassment, and nod. Because yes, how could it not be something you would want?

The room is shrouded with an unbeknown emotion. Your heart lurches against your ribs, it thumps and thumps and thumps. You feel it in your ears, in your clammy hands. If Ubbe can tell how nervous you are, he doesn’t show, instead, he smiles, his thumb tracing a line along with the apple of your cheek. For the second time that night, you are kissed. Unlike Torvi’s, his lips are thinner, less soft, more urgent. Though, regardless of their differences, both leave an uncomfortable pulse between your legs.

“Stand up,” His whisper makes a strange noise seep from you, but you comply.

He’s so tall. So big. The breadth of his shoulders, concealed beneath a leathered armour that glimmers under the dim light from two melting candles, is far wider than an ordinary man’s. His arms, when he spins you, by the Gods, they are so firm, so strong. You were sure you would turn into a puddle. He straightens your back, so you are forced to look at the comforting face of your mistress. It did nothing to help you, if anything, it worsened the warm pump of your blood, a wet mess gathering at the apex of your thighs.

You feel Ubbe unclasp the leather strip fastened around your waist, then proceed to undo each of the delicate buttons that kept the modest woollen blue dress in place. Torvi comes close to hold your hands, hers much warmer than yours had ever been, and softer, too. She drops them to hold your face, her lips a feverish pressure on your own. Another noise slips from you, muffled by the kiss.

She helps the sleeves out of your arms as soon as nothing holds the gown in place, the fabric sliding to the ground. The white slip you wore beneath was simple. It had been sewed by your late mother. She was quite good with needling, a trait that had died with her.

They stop to look at you, albeit close enough you can feel their warmth. You’re caged between them. You didn’t know what you had done to be in this place, but you thanked the skies above.

“Her hips are perfect,” Torvi mumbles, squeezing the supple flesh of your round hips. Pulling you in such a way your back was pressed to her chest. It felt like she was presenting you to him. “Perfect to bear children.”

“May I take this off?” He asks you, never minding his wife’s comment, though the flare in his nostrils let you know it had affected him. “Are you comfortable with all this?”

Another miserable nod is all you have to give him, Torvi’s fingers still on you, a gentle rub on the sides of your thighs.

“She’s too quiet,” Ubbe grumbles a curse. “Are you shy, pup? Is that it?”

“You’re too much, Ubbe,” Torvi complains. “I told her that if at any moment she wishes to leave, she can. She should. She’s here because she wants to.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes,” Your voice is a little sound lost in the air. “I want to, master.”

His breath comes out in a scoff, “You should address me as husband, then, if you wish to be my wife. No wife of mine calls me otherwise.”

“As you wish.”

A fading smirk dons his face, it turns so quickly back into seriousness a wave of childish want to see it again topples down on you. He begins to undo the single knot at the jewel neckline of your smock, Torvi’s hand helping it off. You have no secrets left covered.

The swell of your breasts pulls his eyes as a strong wave brings foam to the coastline. Ubbe palms them. He twists your nipples until they are pebbled. Each strike sends a pang of pleasure throughout your body. It’s only when your mistress touches your sopping cunt, however, that you allow yourself to gasp. The tips of her fingers circle you, one teasing finger around the heat of your entrance. They both abuse your body in sinful, tantalising ways.

He bends to you, his warm mouth wrapping around one pebbled peak. His tongue swirls then suck. You arch your chest in his direction, unable to control yourself. A pretentious grin is smeared on his face when he spreads his large hands on the dip of your waist. The taunting index finger Torvi has playing with you slips inside, which makes an unexpected yelp leave you. There's so much happening at the same time, your mind whirls, dizzy with the growing pleasure at the bottom of your tummy.

Her thumb presses down on your clit, her teeth nipping at the shell of your ear. She works you at her pace, slowly but surely. Just the one finger going in then out. You can hear how wet you’ve grown, as sloshing noises echo each time she moves. Ubbe bites the tender skin of your neck, stealing your attention to him. He reaps the most indecent sounds at each small assault. You’re too sensitive.

Pleasure pours all over you like sticky honey, and you’re unsure if it was brought by the constant rasp of Ubbe’s beard, and his bewitching mouth, or the words that began dripping out of Torvi’s lips while her hand quickened, a welcoming burn within you when another of her thin fingers joined. Your body shook, giving in to the feeling, letting it break you. It’s so good.

Had they not been holding you, you’d have fallen. He scoops you into his arms, naked and limp, to place you in their bed. The soft mattress hugs your back when you’re lying down there. In front of you, Torvi is undressing. She’s wearing the most gorgeous silk dress you’ve seen. It’s screaming red. It flatters her fair complexion, but, if you must have an opinion, she looks a lot better without it. Ubbe takes the same care he did when he helps her out of her clothing, he kisses her neck all the way up to her cheek. You stay still, observing.

She eases him out of his heavy clothes, unbinding the brown leather straps of his vest. The dark-green tunic underneath follows suit, his chest exposed for you. A mess of dark blond hair on his chest tugs your attention, the expanse of it makes you feel so small. Torvi steps away so he can kick off the sturdy leather boots, and his breeches. Both man and woman are a sight for sore eyes. They kiss in an urgent fit, a wet tangle of tongues that makes you clasp your legs together.

Unlike the soothing touches he gave you, Ubbe squeezes her breasts hard, enough to leave a ruddy streak behind. He lifts her, too, tossing her on the bed, careless, her body bounces as she laughs next to you.

“Say, sweets,” Her voice rings as she looks in your direction, him with her foot on his hands, his mouth slithering its way up to her knee. “Have you ever been with a man?”

“Once,” You confess, ashamed of your inexperience. “A long while ago.”

“She’s going to be so tight for you, darling,” Torvi giggles. “Think you can take him?”

“If that is what he wants.”

“Such a good woman for your husband,” You’re pulled down for a heated smack of lips. “Will you be good for me, too?”

You nod, in a near delirium state. He’s sneaked between your legs, prying you open to him. The glisten of gathered slick makes his eyes glisten in a crushing lust. Ubbe bullies your snug entrance with just the tip of his index and middle fingers, his are so much thicker than Torvi’s. You wince, a pained whine leaving your quivering lips.

“Does it hurt, pup?” Concern swims in his light tone.

“A little,” He stopped, his eyebrows knitted together in a preoccupied grimace. “I can take it. I want you to take me.”

“She is feisty,” Ubbe grins up to his wife. “Then I shall take you, pup.”

His fingers slid deeper into you. The stretch is new, it burns, but it’s appeased by the gentle touch of the pad of his thumb on your clit. Torvi palms your chest, your nipples hard and sensitive. You were in paradise. This had to be what paradise was like, unwinding and everlasting satisfaction.

She leans in to bring one hard peak into her mouth, her round breasts standing too close for you to deny yourself a taste. Your eyes are keen to notice the flutter on her belly when you do, your tongue sliding tentatively around one pink nipple. She smiles, then clamps her teeth around you, drawing a broken sound from you, muffled on her skin.

A small whimper echoes when Ubbe pulls his fingers out. Torvi kisses your parted lips one last time before moving to where he stood, at the foot of the bed. She nudges you to move back, the crown of your head pressed up against the headboard. She lies on her stomach, each hand settling at the base of your thighs. It flames the growing pain from being denied a peak seconds before, to watch this beautiful woman with her head between your legs. The fair strands of her hair tickle when it touches your skin. You’re surrendered.

The first contact of her warm mouth on the tender flesh of your inner thigh sends you into overdrive. You tip your head back, eyes sealed shut. Ubbe is there, you can feel his heat. His hands rub your arms for a second, only to pull them up, holding you as his wife has her first taste of your cunt. She laps with confidence only a woman could have. Confidence that she would please. That she can take one more from you before her husband has the chance.

“Gods,” You say, gripping Ubbe’s arms. “I-I…”

“So sweet, look, she doesn’t curse,” His deep voice mumbles out, inclining forwards to press his lips to your cheek. “It’s going to be fun fucking you until you do.”

Her spit dribbles down when she takes a breath, hot and dirty. Torvi slides a finger into you again, pretty mouth nursing the painful pulse at the crest of your sex. The high feels like it’s a breath away. He whispers sweet encouragement words, his grasp of you the only anchor you possess to the palpable world while hers only sent you further down the chasm.

She eats and eats. It’s a feast that leaves your brain in a muddled daze, your hips rolling against her face as if you have no control over what your body does. You look up to find his eyes on you, nothing but want in the fine tint of blue left. Perhaps that’s what it took for you to break down. Whatever it was, it hit you much stronger than the first one, disjointed words blubbering out from you. You fell limp on the bed, heavy and spent. But she didn’t stop until you were begging her to.

They let you take a rest. You hear him curse, you hear the slaps, the dirty words that would make you mortified, though now they bring a wave of heat down on you. Head tilted back, your tired eyes almost fail to comprehend how tight he's holding her, how rough he's kissing her lips, with a hunger comparable to a wild animal. Yes. Ubbe ravished her like a wolf would its prey. His fingers rub her pussy, easing his fingers much more easily than it eased on you, her having much more experience than you did. Shame stung your cheeks, you were so innocent.

“Look at her, dove, staring at us,” He had one arm looped around her arching back. “You want to know how good Torvi tastes, pup? I can tell you it’s the best thing you’ll ever have.”

“She tastes good, too,” Torvi moans, his pace growing alongside her sweet noises. “So fucking good. Ah, fuck, Ubbe-”

“See, pup, you have to curse, too,” Ubbe quickens, his wife clinging to him for dear life. “Like she does. To let me know I’m making her feel good.”

You prop yourself up, sitting back on your knees on one corner of the bed. No words leave your lips, but your hand finds its way between your legs, trying to alleviate the uncomfortable throb that grows anew there. Ubbe smirks, so full of himself, that he has two beautiful women on his bed, that he has them both worked up. He beckons you to come closer, which you do, his warmth makes you sigh.

“Touch her,” His voice dips to silky sweetness. You gaze at him, unsure, pitiful even. “I will show you how.”

His hand must feel much better on her than yours, being so big and dexterous while yours was smaller and clumsy. You breathe out, hash and desperate, when he guides you to the hot, drenching mess of Torvi. Her blissful features let you know she enjoys what you’re doing, though it’s more her husband’s doing than your own. A tiny smile stretches your lips up, your thumb giving her clit o-shaped strokes. Ubbe mumbles that you’re doing so good for them, so, so good. Confidence bathes you at that moment. You can understand how he walks around so smug like the world belongs to him. Treasuring this woman did that to you.

Once you get the hang of it, he lets you do you, his touch lingering on the curve of your waist. One finger sneaked up her tight entrance, daring to pump in then out, still working her bundle of nerves, appreciating each bubbly noise she let out. He teases you, biting down on your neck, sucking marks to the fragile skin. Slick pools at the tight crevice between your legs, you’re so aroused. You didn’t know your body could do so much.

She falls apart on your hand, you edge it out of her, and you whine in tandem with her, so delighted to just watch her. To observe as pleasure wrings her up then release, her thighs clamping your hand. Ubbe paints a wet kiss just below your ear, his teeth grazing as it goes down again, the rough of his palms on your breasts, he gives them absent-minded squeezes. The pressure builds on your lower abdomen from it all, ebbs and flows as the tide does in the early morning.

Torvi kisses you, sweet and slow. Your finger is still inside her, the spasms of her peak chewing it up. It’s hot and wet, it squelches when you pull it out from her. He moves away from you as she begins to push you down, it’s an unhurried, deliberate motion. You can tell she is just trying to make you more comfortable, even tucking a pillow below your hips to raise them.

Rain begins to spatter against the closed windows, or perhaps you’d been so inattentive, you didn’t notice the change in the weather. The dying fire of the fireplace crept, its fainting sounds just now discernible. The brief moment of silence let you soak up as much of this place as you could. If this falls through, you want to remember each tiny detail of this day.

“Be gentle with her,” Torvi warns. She’s sat back, your head on the soft plush of her thigh. “Are you okay?”

“I am,” You smile up at her, then nuzzle on her, a careless display of affection you didn’t know where it came from. “So very much okay.”

His warmth spreads over you when he lies on top of you. It’s so intense, the weight of him pinning you down, your legs spread apart to welcome him between them. You could feel every ridge of him, every single detail. This newfound closeness is heady, it confuses your thoughts, all the coherence fleeing as losing troops during a battle. It’s there, the steady pulse of his heart, while he whispers that you can trust him. That you can give yourself to him, that it is okay to do so.

The fat head of his cock teases your pussy, sliding up and down for a beat or two. It pushes a noise out of you, in pure distress, you’re so desperate to have him. To feel him inside, the stretch that would be likely to leave you with a limp. You dreamed about this. You longed to be craved in a way that wobbles your legs. Right now, with the enticing words he mumbled out of honeyed lust, you felt wanted. When Torvi touched you, it felt like a drug, and this was the final nail that locked you in. You were stuck with them now.

Ubbe eased himself in, breaching you. In his eyes, there’s nothing but true regard, even in silence, you can feel he wants this to be good for you too. A soft smile paints across your face, your short nails digging to the firm flesh of his shoulders. A slight trace of pain washes over you, one you do your best to conceal, though useless since he catches it, slowing things down even more. His low grunts do not help, the sounds make you clench, in need.

Torvi strokes your hair. You tip your head back to look up at her. She’s so beautiful. You could get used to being pampered by her, not just while her husband fucks you, but all the time. It had never crossed your mind that you could feel this much at once. The roll of his hips on yours, her delicate hands on you. It brought the alluring pressure at the bottom of your tummy right back, so quick it felt impossible.

He hides his face on the crook of your neck, staining the unblemished skin. The sounds being knocked out of you grew and grew. Being so vocal was atypical, when you were bedded, you had been quiet, when you touched yourself, in the silent, cold nights, hidden beneath thick furs, you were quieter. Each snap, however, had them coming. His cock was so deep in you, the bottoming out only made him go further when sliding back in, as if he was in want to claim each inch within you, to mark as his all tiny crevices you had.

You search for the hot press of his lips on yours, a kiss that’s not at all about love, it’s feral, wild. Your tongues roll together, the sounds muffled by the other’s mouth. The hairs on his chest scrape yours, you can’t help but grip tighter onto him. Each nerve in your body seems to be attuned to the littlest movement he does, all of them capturing how close you are to breaking.

When it comes, it’s hard. It topples you down to a bone-crushing fall that rattles you. A pleasure that takes and takes. A tired, spent moan bubbles on your throat. You’re wrapped on him, you realise, taking all the hard ruts he’s still giving. It helps you through the rush you’re feeling, a lingering aftertaste that you are not willing to let go of just yet. Somewhere beneath your ribs, you feel the rapid pulses of your heart.

Had you not been so wrung out already, you mulled over the thought that it’d be possible he’d rob another one from you just by the way he looks when he falls apart. The animalist growls. It sounds like he'd slash and maul and break anyone who would dare to take you from him right now. With his bare hands. Scorching, thick ropes of cum root deep into your cunt, Ubbe spends himself until he can’t anymore.

Instead of moving away, he settles his head on your chest, one arm holding his weight up so he doesn’t crush you. For the longest time, the three of you remain in silence. Torvi moves to lie down beside you, holding your tired hand on hers. You sigh, life starts to down on you, the bruises you’d be sporting for weeks after. His seed, if it stuck, would be with you, too. If it didn’t, you would have fun trying all over again.

At last, when the cold starts to be uncomfortable, Ubbe rolls to the other side, so you’re between him and his wife. You try to will yourself to stay awake, though it’s to no avail. Something tells you, you would have a long night of sleep, undisturbed if you were blessed.

“Can we keep her, then?” The sweet voice you knew belonged to the blonde woman to your left.

“Oh, you can be assured of that, my dove,” Ubbe kisses your cheek, nosing your temple. “This pup here is ours to keep.”

#ubbe x you #ubbe x torvi #torvi x you #ubbe #torvi #ubbe smut #ubbe x torvi smut #ubbe x you smut #torvi x you smut #vikings #ubbe x reader #ubbe x ofc #torvi x reader #smut #fluff-ish #no use of y/n

[micer2012]

When EX's eyes glow white, that's Jeff the Minion influencing them (1016, 1017)

ok first off this is a sequel to this post , i wish i could say "this'll probably not make sense unless you read it" but that implies that the original post makes senseJBKHVCGFXGHDZ.

So! In the past 2 episodes we've had scenes where EX's eyes shift to white and gain a stronger glow, before shifting back. Some people have just said that this is them getting angry/feeling emotional, but I think that if we look at the scenes, ESPECIALLY in 1016, this white glow actually shows when Jeff is slipping things into their mind.

So! In 1016, EX is relaxing (specifically taking a break from their feelings of depression and isolation from being surrounded by useless wealth and craving wealth, but being lonely, unfulfilled, and unsatisfied (heh.Midas Curse EX)) in the Nether, helps their Strider friends back into the lava, and then exclaims "Oh, that's it! That's brilliant! That's genius! I have the answer now! How do we make diamonds? Compassion, kindness, charity!"

Then the background gets blacked out as it zooms in on EX, their eyes pulse white twice, and their tone shifts to sinister as they say "Yes, we must exploit the good will of the hermits.. We must indeed.."

(note how the background gets blacked out)

Before their eyes go white, EX isn't talking about anything nefarious. They're doing a gay little dance, just delicately put the strider back into the lava and referred to it as 'buddy', and said that they'll make diamonds through Compassion, Kindness, and Charity. Before their eyes go white, it doesn't seem like they're talking about the hermits kindness at all, they're talking about how they can make diamonds through Charity and Compassion. "Make Diamonds" is interesting also because that.. isn't EX's goal. That's just a part of their goal to exploit and take advantage of the hermits, saying that they know how to make diamonds through Compassion, Kindness, and Charity, (especially after they were just feeling depressed and worthless about how they have Money and Power, but they still feel empty) is a weird thing to say, when that is Not. Their Plan. at all

So Jeff just nudges them back into the "right" direction.

EX's eyes glow white and they clarify, (as the Nether, the place where they feel safe and friendly, literally falls away behind them), of Course they meant exploiting the HERMITS's compassion kindness and charity. They don't have any of those things, they're evil. Of Course they meant exploiting the hermits, that's their plan, why wouldn't they mean that? Note also how they go from using "I" (I have the answer now!) to "We" when their eyes go white, (though they're kinda just like that sometimes).

It's also important to note that Eyes Glowing A Different Color is quite literally how Jeff (and EX over X's) Control is shown in canon. In Evil's Fault, it's shown that Jeff's "never ending voice in EX's head" manifests as voices whispering to them as their eyes change color.

I want to say something about Jeff's control over EX (and likely EX's over X), Jeff can't force them to do anything. It doesn't just Make Them evil, we see in Evil's Fault that what it does is show EX clips of X not trusting them, and Zloy and Pix saying that they're cringe, while Jeff taunts them about how the only thing EX will ever be able to do is destroy the hermits, over and over again. But EX's fall isn't because of Jeff's powers, it's because Jeff successfully convinces EX and EX starts to believe it themselves and gives in. That's why EX can break out by (with the Dreamer's help) remembering that people do care about them, and that they can change.

Jeff and the Dreamer can't influence EX or anything directly, Jeff can't just possess EX and make them do things, both of them just need EX to be convinced of it themselves, by showing them their memories of how the hermit's feel about them.

So I think that if this white eye glow is Jeff subtlety shifting EX back to evil thoughts, redirecting them so silently that not even EX is unaware that it isn't their own thoughts, that would make sense and be consistent with Jeff's powers shown in Evil's Fault.

Finishing off, in 1017 EX's eyes change twice. First when X points out the shop doesn't use their CringeCoin, they go "WHAT?" and then their eyes glow white as they say "This is Unacceptable," and then continue on. It's notable that they go white right before EX gets Angry, they were just kindof bewildered before the white eyes and they get Aggressive. They go white again as they say "Something here has to change.. Everyone, Everyone must use the DerpCoin!"

While this isn't as big to me as 1016, I think the narrative of "White Eyes = Jeff influencing EX by going 'hey, that IS a big deal. you can't Stand for that. You should be angry" and nudging them towards hating the hermits makes sense. I think how EX interacts with the other hermits is very interesting because they clearly think that they all hate and are scared of them (asking every single hermits Are You Disturbed By My Presence? Do I Scare You? and them all going what? no i mean y. im a bit worried but you seem cool now), while the hermits have pretty unanimously been chill.

Could this be due to Jeff telling EX that they're only ever going to be able to hurt the hermits, they'll only ever be scared of you, they are your enemies, to drive them further into isolation and malice towards the hermits? I think that's likely, and the eye's going white in 1017 is Jeff trying to dig in the point of the hermits being Against them.

OK LISTEN. THIS ONE MIGHT BE AS INCOMPREHENSIBLE AS THE FIRST But I THINK THE WHITE EYES IS IMPORTANT. IN 1016, WITH HOW QUICKLY AND SUDDENLY THEY CHANGE HEELS, I THINK THAT'S OUTSIDE INFLUENCE. I JUST THINK THATS JEFF. THANK YOU FOR READING !

#I WAS GONNA ALSO WRITE ABOUT HOW THE FIRST PART OF 1016. IS EX MIDAS CURSE REAL BUT I THINK YOU CAN SEE HOW ISOLATED AND GREEDY THEY ARE #also little things i wanted to include in my first post but didnt: the Green Slime that ex pushed jevin into. might be releated to jeff #and also when ex gave impulse the head and impulse went 'oh ok i mean im always one for giving someone second chances :)' #and ex went 'Mm Mmm Foolish.'.THAT LINE MAKES ME SAD AFTER EVILS FAULT #EVIL XISUMA #XISUMA #TH3POOKA #JEFF THE MINION #HERMITCRAFT #HC #SEASON 8 #MCYT #THEORY #EX #EVIL X #1016 #1017 #HC THEORY #EVILS FAULT

[linksthoughtbrambles]

[HiRAH for sidequest!Link]

Part 30 of Link's Thought Brambles

“Link, you mean to tell me you have a magical pouch in which you may keep anything you wish, and you do not have a single piece of paper, nor a pencil?”

Why am I in trouble for this? She’s supposed to be the thinky person! She could’ve borrowed some from the castle’s carpenters, it’s not like we weren’t there an hour ago. “…No.” It’s not like I ever write anything down. Unless I’m writing a letter. Ah-ha! “I have stuff in my dresser.”

“Hhhh. I also have… stuff… in my own dresser. A bound book would, however, be more convenient. Let’s save that for tomorrow. Had I a pencil, I would simply use the margins of this draft ceremony plan. As it is, I can… I can…”

She’s looking shifty-eyed all of a sudden.

Oh. And there’s the haughty I’m-a-Princess-and-I-do-what-I-want chin. Which I’m pretty sure, now that I’m thinking about it, she only does to me. In the last four months, it’s normally been because she’s disgusted by me following her. This seems different, since clearly she WANTS me following her around today…

Heh. She’d given me the day off. Look where I end up, anyway.

“It would be foolish of me to waste an hour or more in turning back from the front gate. I can use the slate’s dictation feature. I can copy its notes to a bound book later when we return to the castle.”

The slate’s dictation feature? What does she-

Oh.

“When an opportunity presents to pick up a pencil in town, I may switch to that. Though frankly, dictation is easier.”

Hylia preserve us. Lift us from these sands-

“Is there a problem, Sir Link?”

-keep us with the dawn-

”I didn’t know the Sheikah Slate could take dictations.”

Oh no… no no no, not Mipha too-

“Indeed. Link activated it by accident last week at the Royal Lab.”

“How does it work?”

“I have not thoroughly investigated the details. But it is capable of recording all the speech in the immediate area. That is, so long as it is distinguishable above background nose.”

You have to say SOMEthing, Link. You can’t just let that go. “Um. That’s not the only thing it records.”

The royal eyebrow. I should’ve been expecting that. “I know.”

This is bad. It’s worse. Much worse than it was last week. Every few minutes I’m thinking about her. Ever since she’s been nicer to me. Even more since I woke up with her tending to me in bed. Dear Goddess, I’ve even started to like those moments when she dips into stern-princess voice. It’s like a whip-crack to my spine and I’m about, say, eight hours away from imagining her using that voice to order me onto my knees while she forces me to watch her undress herself. ‘Hands behind your back, knight.’

…I just gave MYSELF the whip-crack.

“Link? Are you okay?”

“Fi-ii! Fine. Fine, Mipha.” You had to crack NOW, voice?!

“What else is there to record apart from speech? Princess?”

”Link’s thoughts.”

“L-Link’s-?!”

“Yes.”

“Link’s specifically?”

Oh, wait. Wait wat wait. “W-well, maybe it’ll record someone else’s if that person turns it on instead. Right, Princess? If you try turning it on now, maybe it’ll record your thoughts?”

She doesn’t like that idea. Her lips went all thin and white.

Oh crap, I don’t like that idea, either. I’m not ready. I’m not at ALL ready to have that thing turned on again right this second! Don’t think about sex what the crap, Link, don’t even THINK that word don’t do it don’t do it

FOOD YES think about food, food is allowed, she ate a sandwich with you earlier food is totally 100% okay she’s fiddling with the screen, Mipha’s trying to see, that seems to annoy the Princess, she’s poking the screen awfully hard and fast no NO Link don’t think about poking things hard and fast you are stupid you are so so stupid no no no please be recording the Princess’ thoughts and not mine I would love to know what she’s thinking about now not that I think she’d let me see it but it would be better than BOTH princesses seeing this waste dump that is my thoughts -

“Oh, my. Poor Link. Your thoughts aren’t a waste dump.”

MMMMMm!!! NGGGHT. They totally are, Mipha, you have no idea! Don’t think. Just don’t do it. Oh bless you Princess for putting it away thank you thank you thank you-

“It’s active. It is still attached to you, Link.”

I figured. mmMMMMmm!!

“I wish to reassure you there was nothing previously which offended me in any way. You may, in fact, relax. Please attempt to concentrate on the good work we have to do in town today, and do not fret over what idle thoughts may come. Alright?”

Just nod.

“So. When we cross the threshold into Castle Town, what should our first destination be, Sir Link?”

“Uh. Um. Food. Anyone who might prepare food for this thing will need as much notice as possible. Makes sense to just pick a direction and go in order.”

“Are we visiting all the cookeries and bakeries, or shall we leave any out?”

We could skip oblivious-fruitcake-guy. Then again, this might be a chance for him to redeem himself. “I don’t think we should pick and choose, Princess. Some of them’ll want to participate, and some won’t. They’ll end up choosing for us.”

“Alright, then. Mipha?”

“Yes, Princess!”

“Shall we?”

“Certainly!”

Castle Town. It’s awfully big and packed full of people. I hope we have time even to get to everybody. We could split up, but that would be a bad idea for the Princess’ safety.

PrincessES’ safety. Because now there are two of them.

I don’t usually think of Mipha as a “princess” though. Maybe it’s tough to think that way about someone you splashed around in a lake with for years on and off. Or maybe it’s because the Zora’s attitudes are so different. Mipha’s always among them, not sequestered away out of their reach. Even Dorephan in his throne room is entirely accessible to his people. There are guards, but it’s more a formality than anything else. If a Lizalfos gets too close to Dorephan, he’ll just sit on it and that’ll be the end of it.

Which leads me, once again, to wondering why Dorephan is so monumentally huge?

Is it magic? Does the king or queen of the Zora just keep growing due to some hidden power?

Is it hereditary? Is Mipha going to be gigantic, too? I know she’s 42 years old, which still blows my mind, but she still has growing to do. She’s smaller than the Princess by a good deal. Bazz said they’ll grow until they’re about 50 at least, but some keep growing. He wasn’t all that interested in getting deeper into it than that.

I wish I could’ve had a long childhood like that.

Maybe the length isn’t it, though. Maybe it’s how it was spent. I’d have been happy to spend 40 years swimming, diving, fishing, playfighting, and hunting for snails with Bazz, Mipha, and Rivan. Spending 40 years in Hateno going to school with the other Hylian kids? Not so much.

40 years with my sister staying adorable and little and wanting me to read books to her? That I’d be happy about, too. Having Mom still warm my clothes for me at the hearth.

Having Father tell me I have to grow up.

Yeah, maybe not. 17 years of that was enough.

That’s a little unfair. It’s not like he was telling toddler-Link he was too childish. He smiled at me, then. So maybe more like… I don’t know, 14 years or something.

Mipha seems to like the fountain.

“It’s like a little piece of home. Refreshing!”

Heh. Cold!

“I’ll defer to you, Link. Which direction would be best to start with?”

“We should probably start out Northwest, work our way southward, and circle around from there. I can’t see us getting through even half of it in one afternoon.”

“Indeed, it seems unlikely. With a little more preparation, we may be able to enlist a second party’s help tomorrow.”

Good idea.

“Lead the way, Sir Link.”

Not hard. Gorgie’s is right there. It’s a little hole in the wall but damn if he doesn’t make great noodles. Good thing we’re long past lunch. We’d have to wait an hour just to talk to someone.

“Good after- oh!”

Those are some owl-eyes right there. He’s not sure whether to look at the Princess or Mipha or both at the same time, thus the sudden eye-cross and head-shake.

I feel for him.

“Hi, Gorgie.” And he sees me again.

“H-hello, Sir Link. P-Princess, and Princess. Ah. Noodles for you? Or, ah, soup?”

“For more than merely us, good sir.”

Damn, he just broke out in a cold sweat!

“M-more?”

“They haven’t announced it yet, Gorgie, but there’s going to be a festival in three days on castle grounds.”

“Oh!”

That sure got his attention.

“Indeed. We’re hoping some of the local businesses would agree to set up in the bailey temporarily, to provide food and entertainment. Are you interested in participating?”

She talks so much smarter than me.

“OH! Oh I would be a fool to pass up such an- oh. Oh, but Princess, and Princess. I-“

What’s he eyeing mournfully behind the counter? “Are you having some kind of trouble?”

“Ohh. If you lean far enough, you’ll see for yourself.”

Uh. Okay. I’m short, so I can’t really. Will he care if I sit on his counter? Probably not.

Whup.

Ooooh. That is unfortunate. Man, what a mess! Now that I’m paying attention, I can see the sodden part of the floorboards near the Princesses’ feet, too.

“That’s some crack, Gorgie. How’d it happen?”

“Nearest I know, heat and time, Sir Link. Heat and time.”

“So you need a new cauldron.”

“I have the small cookpots, and they do, though it made lunch slower and smaller today. For your festival, though, managing one large dish would be so much easier than many small ones. And I’d want to leave Trood here in the shop—he’ll need pots, too.”

That thing is massive. Guess he needs it with how many people flood this spot at mealtimes. Where the hell did he get it? No one in town sells anything that size. It’s like a horse’s middle.

“Do I take it your cooking vessel has suffered a thermal shock?”

“Eh, Princess?”

“Um. May I see?”

“Oh. OH. By all means, Princess, I’ll back up-“

“No need.”

And now she’s up here with me.

I’d enjoy it if I wasn’t supposed to not think about spoons. Chopsticks. Napkins. Gorgie’s very shiny bald head. Greasy. Look at something else, Link, look at-

“That is indeed irreparable.”

“Eh… yes, Princess.”

“Well, no mind. I’m sure our blacksmith can make you one in relatively short order, though I’d have to discuss with him how long it would take a vessel of such size to cool in its mold.”

“Eh- eh?! You would do that for me, Princess?”

“Why not?”

“H-how much would it cost?”

“The crown will gladly cover the cost if it means you can join us for the festival.”

“OH! Oh my! P-Princess, I thank you, but I insist I must repay you somehow!”

“Well. We are planning on charging a very small space fee to help cover cleanup costs.”

We are?

“How much?”

“100 rupees.”

Huh.

“My, Princess--I easily do that much business here in 15 minutes on a slow day!”

She clearly has a plan but I don’t know what it is.

“We’d like to keep the festival accessible.”

She used my word! I feel like I shouldn’t be so proud of myself, but I am.

“W-well. Since you’re offering to provide a very expensive piece of cookware, I think it would be entirely reasonable for you to triple my fee, Princess.”

“I see. Very well, if that will ease your conscience, I shall do exactly that. 300 rupees is well with you?”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“Noted. I will send a messenger to the blacksmith at once.”

“Thank you, Your Highness! And- thank you Princess Mipha, and Sir Link!”

“Welcome-“ “You’re welcome. Nice meeting you!”

Damn she’s fast. Off like a shot back to the bridge. Like her days of trying to escape me in Tabantha. Mipha’s in no rush. Oh. That’s another one of those great big smiles she’s giving me with the closed eyes. It’s pretty infectious.

“Good afternoon, sir-?”

“Ah- Princess! Ah, ah, it’s just Gerden, Princess, no sir.”

“Ah. Well, Gerden. I have a message to be run to the castle blacksmith. Please take it there as quickly as possible. I’m beckoning one of your fellows from across the moat to take your place.”

“Oh! Yes, Princess, what is the message?”

“We need a double-thick cast-iron cauldron made immediately approximately three and a half feet wide and equally deep. It’s to be used the third morning from now. If the timing is impossible, he is to start it anyway and I shall discuss it with him when I return.”

“Yes, Princess!”

“Thank you, Gerden.”

Wow. He certainly wants to impress her. He’s moving almost as fast as she was out of Gorgie’s shop.

“I do hope all the shops don’t have shattered cookware.”

“It’s unlikely, Mipha. But just in case… I thought a small fee would be wise.”

Tricky Princess.

-----

“Oh my, Link, look at these sparkling animals.”

“Oh. Yeah, they’re a glass cutter.”

“How clever! Such things in the domain are always smooth, and they are lovely, but the facets make these catch the light like river spray.”

Not sure we want that in particular in the bailey. I can see that turning out painful for someone.

“Speaking of light, ours is nearly gone. They’re beginning to light the braziers. We’ve covered, what—perhaps an eighth of what we ought?”

It’s true. Everyone seems to have problems. The Plucky Pie Shop has poultry supply insecurity because Duck-Duck-Goose had trouble with the High Rules Animal Helpers (HiRAH) and their protests against clipping ducks’ and geese’s wings. They want to see large, enclosed containment instead that lets the animals fly freely. This in turn was caused by them protesting small cages last year, at which point Duck-Duck-Goose switched to open pens and clipped wings, which, of course, only further enraged HiRAH.

The solution is clearly to make everyone happy by finding someone to build a gigantic fricking aviary. Then Duck-Duck-Goose can slaughter happy birds instead of crippled ones.

(Is that really any better? You’d think the happy flappy goose would mind its demise more.)

So… for the moment wild bird hunters are charging a killing for their… killed… birds. And it’s getting expensive to make poultry pies.

Too bad they didn’t go for my suggestion that you can also “pluck” berries from bushes or apples from trees. ‘We make meat pies, sir!’

You know what? We were going to discourage meat pies, anyway. We’re all set. Unless of course we can find a way to make pie crust without wheat. Huh.

Rice crust? Can that be a thing?

“Link?”

“Huh?”

“You disappeared on us again.”

“Sorry, Princess.”

“… You were thinking about the poultry supply problem, weren’t you?”

“Heh. You read my mind.”

“Kmmpt. And I didn’t even have to check the slate.”

No, you didn’t, did you? She has a little smirk on again. This one’s different, though. Softer eyes.

“Oh, that shop has so many tiny cakes!”

“…Indeed, Mipha. Most appear to be fruitcakes.”

She’s thinking about skipping it. She is. But she shouldn’t. “Let’s go.”

“I- I may-“

“Nope! Let’s all go in, Princess.”

“W-w-“

If I weren’t worried about how she’d take it, I’d steer her in by the shoulders. I’ll have to make do with lots of emphatic beckoning.

“Oh- eh heehee-“

Bonus Mipha giggles.

“Ohf. Very well.”

This is going to be so good.

“Good evening, sir-“

“OHHHH!!”

“Ah- uh-?”

And here he comes, running round the counter, wow he actually slid on his knees, that must’ve hurt, he’ll end up picking splinters out of those later, he’s got her hand in his and WOW is he going to kiss it?! No, he’s just banging his forehead against it. Repeatedly.

“Um. Um. That is- that’s entirely unnecessary, mister- mister?”

“Toureni. Toureni, Your Highness. Oh please, please, I beg your forgiveness from the bottom of my baking heart!”

Oh Goddess, Link. The look on her face. Don’t laugh. Don’t laugh.

“I- don’t understand.”

“F-fruitcake…”

Oooh, some of her color just drained out. If he doesn’t make this clear in a few seconds, I’ll have to explain myself so she doesn’t get upset.

“Highness, I never intended my words to injure you so.”

“YOUR words?”

“Y-yes. Has- has HE- not told you?”

“… He has not.”

“Ohh. Ohh. Leaving it for me to confess. It’s fair, though. It is.”

Well… it’s not like I put any forethought into it.

“Your Highness, the fruitcake recipe and description which so offended you was penned by me. I am full of remorse. I had no understanding of what I’d done, I swear! I was- I was trying to drum up business for my shop. I sent it anonymously so no one would—would accuse me of doing it! Ever since Frootie Food opened up in central, fewer and fewer have come here for my fruitcakes. They used to be the best in town. I believe they still are! It’s just the novelty! It’s the nooovellltyyyy- eeeeeeh eeeeeeeh eeeeeehh-“

W. O. W.

Those tears are pitter-pattering on the floorboards. Now I feel bad. Like really, really, really bad.

“Link!”

AH!

“What did you say to this poor fellow to cause such distress?!”

Ow.

“It’s not a crime to fear for one’s livelihood!”

No of course not but he never said-

“Toureni. I accept your apology. I can see now my interpretation of your words was inaccurate. I, in turn, apologize for my appointed knight’s behavior toward you. Please, be at ease.”

… Am I in trouble?

“Y-your knight?”

“Yes.”

“Y-you’re Sir Link?

“… That’s me.”

“B-but you’re so short.”

“One of my many shortcomings. Hm. Hmhm. Ow!” Come on, Mipha!

“Fortunately, sir, my reason for visiting you this evening may bring you some cheer. Please, rise. I shall help.”

“O-oh. If you insist, Your Highness.”

I guess this is what Mipha looks like when she’s irritated with me. Her forehead ridges are drawn together a little bit. Kind of like a Hylian’s eyebrows. Just a lot bigger.

“There is to be a festival on castle grounds starting the third morning from now. We’re asking local businesses if they’d like to participate.”

“OH! That is a wonderful opportunity, Your Highness!”

“Indeed. Yet for you, I think, perhaps more so.”

“Oh?”

“Along with food and entertainment, we are to host games and competitions. Among them shall be a taste-testing event.”

“O-OH! Oh, Princess!!! I would beg for such a chance to shine!”

“Of course, I cannot guarantee that you would win. But you would certainly have your chance.”

“Yes- yes of course! Thank you, Your Highness!”

“Now, we’re asking for a minimal 100 rupee fee for businesses to have a stall. However, considering what I’ve heard here today, I’m willing to waive that fee and instead only ask for the very reasonable pledge of ten rupees to enter the tasting competition.”

“Bless you. Bless you, Your Highness. You’ll have your ten rupees. And thank you!”

-----

“I believe I shall sleep the instant my head hits the pillow.”

“Agreed, Princess.” Last corner.

“I’m exhausted. I must confess my feet are not used to your manner of stone pavement.”

“Oh dear. Mipha, I apologize. It never crossed my mind-“

“Oh no no no NO, Princess. Please don’t fret. A Zora princess should acclimate herself to the many environments of Hyrule. I’ve spent so much time in my home, used to the buoyancy and gentleness of water at my feet. And lately, much aboard Ruta. Somehow, her stone does not seem to press so deeply.”

“There’s something I’ve yet to decipher about the surface properties of that material. It’s virtually impossible to climb. It’s as if there’s some small amount of electrostatic repulsion. I’d imagine the sensation could easily be likened to the buoyancy of water, though less so.”

“You are welcome on Ruta any time, Princess, to study her.”

“I thank you. I intended to visit soon to check her systems and see if anything could be improved for you.”

“Well, now you mention it, she’s a little slow to respond when walking. Slower than when directing her trunk or any of the mechanisms on her back and shoulders.”

“I’ll look into it.”

“Thank you, Princess!”

I was incredibly, incredibly privileged just to be in their presence for that conversation.

Zo and Kerkand tonight.

“Princess, Lady Mipha-“

“S- Sir Link?”

“Sir Kerkand. Sir Zo.”

“…What happened?”

“What do you mean what happened?”

“Your face-“

“Oh! Oh. Mipha healed me.”

“Ah- of course. Welcome, Lady Mipha.”

“Hello!”

“Well. I bid you all good night. I shall see you in the morning quite early. Sirs Zo and Kerkand, please relay that I wish to be up at dawn. Ah, and as you have seen, Sir Link is well. He no longer needs a guard on his door specifically.”

“Yes, Princess.”

“Good night, Mipha. Good night, Link.”

“Good night!”

“Good night, Princess.”

There she goes. Wow. We were so busy, I don’t think I slipped up at all and thought about anything horrible. And there goes Kerkand to the Princess’ door instead of mine, for all the difference it makes. It’s not even 20 feet away. She’ll… shut the slate off, right? Yeah. Of course she will. She won’t want it recording her snores. And she DOES snore sometimes. I’ve heard it through the window.

.

Oh yeah, real tired.

.

Oh! Oh of course, I’m not going to throw you out. I wasn’t even thinking, where did they put you up?

.

Really? Does that work for you? Huh. Have you ever slept in a Hylian bed before?

.

Well, we could go sit on the steps outside.

.

Yes, this is my room, but Hylians frown on that sort of thing.

.

Wow, Link. Your own total ignorance of how stuff works in Zora culture is not helping. Well. Uh. You know. A woman being in a man’s bedroom? Alone?

.

Do not look at Zo and Kerkand. Even though you’re sure they can hear every word. They’re probably 100% as uncomfortable about this as you are.

Well. Um. They could be doing. Things.

.

…Yeah… Oh MIpha for the love of Hylia, please don’t make me spell it out for you. Please get it. Please get it.

.

I know at home you sleep in pools-

.

Wait, you don’t all sleep in there? You used to- remember the time I stayed next to you all on the stone and almost froze to death? Good times.

.

But there used to be adults-

.

Oh, they’re just to watch the kids? Huh.

.

You sleep IN the river?!

.

You don’t float away?!

.

You must freeze!

.

Yeah, I guess we ARE fragile compared to you. No way could one of us sleep in a river. We’d die at least three different ways within an hour.

So. Yeah… no bedrooms. No taboos surrounding them. Makes sense.

I’m going to have to spell it out for her I totally am she doesn’t get it where the hell do Zora mate?!

Mipha. I don’t know how else to say this. If we go in there and shut the door, people could think we’re… we’re… mating… in there.

.

Well, no, I don’t think Zo and Kerkand specifically-

.

Yeah, I know no one else is here-

.

Oh. Well, yeah I guess we could leave the door open-

.

True, we wouldn’t have any privacy, but that’s kind of the point-

.

I did suggest steps earlier. We could do that.

.

Okay, great. This way.

Uuuuugh yeah, yeah, I know, Zo, I see that look on your face, that was way too much stuff you didn’t want to hear, sorry…

“Oh, it’s quite brisk out here, Link!”

Brisk is one word for it. It got downright cold. This party is happening just in time. Another week and it would be extremely unpleasant to do anything outside. The Princess still seems to have her windows unshuttered.

“I’m sorry to have made you uncomfortable. I didn’t realize you attached such meaning to your place of rest.”

“Well… it’s not me specifically. But yeah, it’s a Hylian thing.”

“Our ways are so different. You always seemed—I thought you seemed at home in our domain, Link.”

“Oh, I was. You’ve no idea, how many times in the last few months, I wished I was there instead.”

She went quiet. Why is she squeezing her fists against her stomach like that?

“I- I’m glad to hear it. That you missed us, Link.”

“Of course I missed you.” Sit on step, that is VERY cold, shiver on step “You, Bazz and Rivan.”

“Mhm.”

That’s an intense look. Almost like when she was healing me. The ridges above her eyes are turned upward, though. On a Hylian, it would look worried. I’m not sure if it means the same thing on her, but it might. “Mipha, is something wrong?”

“No, Link. I- ah... Earlier today, I was thinking about- about the time we first met. You were just a reckless child, always getting yourself hurt at every turn. I was- I was always willing to heal your wounds. Just as I did today.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you always did. Thank you. I didn’t- when I was a kid I didn’t understand how much of a gift you were giving me. That you could only do it once a day. That you could save someone even on the brink of death.”

“I didn’t fully understand it myself then. I’m not sure I do now. I’ve learned I can split the gift if I’m careful. If I don’t give too much at once. It’s difficult to do.”

“…You gave me the whole thing for today, though, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

.

“Link?”

“Yeah?”

“How did it happen? Why did they attack you?”

How do I explain this to her?

I guess, oddly, I started already. She asked. About the bedroom thing.

“Long story short, Mipha… people… people thought that the Princess and I had done… well, that we’d had too much privacy.”

“Oh?! Just like—just like you were saying now?”

“Yeah.”

“…Did you?”

“No.”

“… Why did they think so?”

“Hph. It still doesn’t all make sense in my head. I was checking out the northeast quarter belowground, looking for springs, actually, not that important to the story. It turns out she went to the same place, unescorted, the morning after I’d gone. I guess people thought I stood around down there for hours waiting for her? Even though I was out and about that morning myself. I guess the timing was just close enough that you could get away with thinking it.”

“And the reaction was that severe? That so many were willing to harm you over it?”

“… It turns out even the king thought it was weird. Said it wouldn’t have happened if it had been him and the queen. He basically thought people are scared and had an excuse to lash out.”

“That could easily be true. Those in the domain are… worrisomely unafraid. My father only allowed me to pilot Ruta because I was so insistent on helping you. I think if you were anyone else, he’d have said no.”

“Wow, Mipha… I- I’m honored. I had no idea that was why.”

“Heh. Yes. I think the perception is the domain’s remoteness and natural geographical barriers will protect us, even should the Calamity arrive.”

“They also value you.” Shoulder bump. “Highly.”

“Yes. And my brother. I want to protect him, too.”

Sidon’s still awfully small. He’s about the same age as Chee, though. It would be nice for them to meet, someday.

Wow. Mom’s never even met Mipha, has she?

“I thought- ah. I thought it was funny how being a Hylian, you looked grown-up so much faster than I did, even though you were so much younger.”

“Yeah. At first—for a long time, actually—I thought we were the same age. I was shocked when I was taller than you that third time we came to stay.”

“Eheehee. You started younger and you still are. Though I admit sometimes I was fooled by your height when I wasn’t thinking about it.”

“You’re going to tower over me again someday, right? You’ll keep growing?”

“Yes. You’ve seen Rilly and Arat, I might be about that height in ten years. Oh, but—are you fully grown?!”

“Yeah. I’m 18. It’s pretty unlikely I’ll grow more, though my shape will change a little. And maybe at some point I’ll start actually growing facial hair.”

“Oh! Like your father? I didn’t realize your face would do that, too!”

“Well, it should. Kind of strange that it doesn’t. Makes for lots of jokes back home. Here, I don’t know, I bet people just think I wax it off or something.”

“Wax?”

“Yeah. You don’t want to know. Father started shaving his. I’m not entirely sure, but I think it might have been for me. So I wouldn’t look so un-manly next to him.”

“Is- is that how you’re supposed to look? Hairy?”

“Pfft. Ha ha hah aaah. Not always. There’re loads of guys around here who stay clean-shaven. Father always kept the beard, though, until recently.”

“How, um, how is he? Your father?”

“…I don’t actually know. I haven’t seen him since the day after I got here.”

“Oh. Oh, I see.”

She can tell. She’s doing the fists-to-her-stomach again. It’s a nervous thing, isn’t it? Why?

“Link?”

“Yeah, Mipha.”

“I hope you know, that if you—if anyone tries to do you harm, then I will heal you. No matter when, or how bad the wound. I hope you know that I will always protect you. Once this whole thing is over… maybe things can go back to how they used to be when we were young.”

Playing in the waterfall-filled lakes at the domain? Count me in.

“You know. Perhaps we could spend some time together.”

That would be nice. But just like my daydream of me and Rionee alone in the woods, there’s the Princess. Swimming, laughing and playing with us.

Then, of course, there’s the other problem.

She said it herself. ‘Once this whole thing is over…’

I probably won’t be here.

Probably.

Who ever hears stories about the hero after the Calamity’s over? Well, except in the one about the Silent Age, but he was really unlucky and had to deal with TWO Calamities, so it doesn’t really count. The second one was still breathing down his neck.

“Link?”

“I… I hope, Mipha. I hope I have the chance to spend that time. Maybe even sooner than you think. The Princess wants to visit the domain on this massive tour of Hyrule she seems to be planning.”

“I hope so. It would be nice to swim with you again. Have you gotten any faster?”

“Haha NOOOOOO.”

“Ohh, ohh my, hahaha-“

“I did find a way to swim EVEN SLOWER, though, and I’ll show you if I get the chance. It’s real awkward and it involves me rolling half sideways and lurching through the water like an injured moblin.”

“Ohhhhhh- ohhhhh- ohhhhh! Ohhhh, stop- stop- I can already see it! Oh, Link. I still maintain your clothing is at least part of what slows you down, and if you’d consider removing both that and your hair-“

“Nope! Clothes stay, bottom layer minimum. Hair, too.”

“If you insist. You’ve nothing to be ashamed of, Link. You clearly have no difficulty around us, and Zora never hide their bodies.”

“You- er- don’t seem to have anything to hide.”

“Oh?”

Oh please don’t tell me she doesn’t know this. Please. I mean, she has to know this. Even if I have my shorts on, it’s not like I’m flat. She MUST know this, right?

“Oh! Oh, you mean because you’re like deer and wolves.”

“… Uhhhh-"

“You have outies.”

“…Outies?”

“Yes. Zora have innies. Hylians have outies.”

“Um. Um. Yeah, okay, you could describe it that way. Though. Well. Only Hylian. Males… have… outies…”

“Not true, as I understand it.”

“B-but-“

“Then why do female Hylians wear clothing?”

“W-well- I mean, you could still SEE it-“

“So it’s an outie.”

“… I think we have different definitions.”

“My definition is that if it is visible, it’s an outie.”

“Okay, then, so everyone has an outie except the Zora.”

“Oh, don’t forget the Gorons.”

“Uh. What do they have??”

“Nothing, of course.”

“Really?!”

“Really.”

“I’m gonna have to ask Daruk about this the next time I see him. How do they have babies?”

“They grow.”

“All babies grow.”

“Hehee. On their backs.”

“Wow. Glad I don’t have to deal with that one.” Ohh- oops. She’s yawning. “Mipha, I’m so sorry. I’m keeping you up. You’ll be here for days, we don’t have to stay up chatting out here in the cold.”

“Oh no, Link. Don’t be sorry. I’m having fun. But we should both get some rest.”

“I’ll walk you back to your room.” Ooooh, that’s a good stretch. My ass is so, so cold.

“You don’t have to do that, Link!”

“I know I don’t have to, but I guess I’m used to not letting Princesses wander around here unescorted. Humor me?”

“Alright, then. But let’s move briskly so you get to bed soon, too.”

“Okay.” And then when I’m back in my own room, I’m sticking my bottom in the fireplace.

-----

Read Next: Nuts is another word for [a lot of things around here].

Read this fanfic from the beginning (it makes more sense that way).

Follow this link for the post list for this fic.

#linksthoughtbrambles #zelda #botw #fanfic #zelink #sidequest!Link

[inviberu]

mirror

An old mirror dirty enough to the point you can’t see your reflection anymore. Faust decided to take a better look at it. He never expected it to turn out as a lost relic from a once prosperous city.

“Oh dear me!” Snow gasped, putting his hand over his mouth to appear more shocked than he actually is. A thoughtful smile suddenly took over his expression not long after as he put his hands on his hips. “I would’ve never thought I’d see this again in this day and age.”

“You know what this is?” Faust’s eyes widened as he examined the mirror in his hands once more, its golden rim giving off a shiny gleam after recovering it from the ruins during their last expedition to the Eastern country. It managed to pique the hermit’s interest after seeing it lay bare on the ground in such a terrible state, wanting to recover it to its former beauty. In some way, it reminded him of himself.

“But of course! This was awfully revered back in the day by both humans and wizards alike. It’s a good thing that my weary self was able to remember it.” Snow chirped, taking a closer look at the mirror. “A relic from a once-famous city—a mirror that is said to have the ability to show you the future. After their downfall, no one had any idea about where the relic laid rest. Ohoho! You’ve come across an exquisite item indeed.”

“The ability to show me the future? That’s ridiculous. I just picked it up from the ground, there’s no way a mirror like this is a lost relic.” Despite the sureness from his words, his voice held a certain kind of doubt that believed Snow. There was no reason for someone like Snow to lie to him after all, there was simply no merit in doing so and Snow wasn’t one to lie about this sort of stuff just for his own amusement.

“You think I jest? I see, then why don’t you try it out for yourself?” Snow’s expression held a smug smile before he remembered something and he let out a small gasp. “I heard it was very moody and picky though, so it might not work on your first try.”

“A moody mirror? The more I hear about this mirror the more I think that it’s a joke.” Faust shook his head.

“Ohoho! Try saying ‘please and thank you’ to the mirror when you try.” What Snow said sounded like a tease but Faust knew well that he was being serious. He didn’t know which one was worse—he could only let out a sigh as he inspected the mirror again. Could a mirror truly tell him of the future? Such an item is far too dangerous to be left out in the open.

“Woah, so you’re telling me this mirror can show you the future?” You wandered inside Faust’s room back and forth but your eyes remained fixated on the mirror placed on his desk, its intricate golden design never failed to catch your interest. It was hard to believe such a thing was capable of showing you the future when all sorts of magic relating to that were either forbidden or extremely hard unless you were gifted with the gift of prophecy like the twins from the North.

Faust let out a sigh, he couldn't bring himself to believe it either but there were a lot of strange things in this world—this was just one of them. "Apparently," he pushed up his glasses as he took the mirror in his hands and looked at his reflection. "Do you want to give it a try?"

"Me?" You asked curiously, wondering why Faust would ask you such a thing but you weren't against the idea of the mirror showing you your possible future. Though you can't help but feel a little bit scared when you thought about the possibilities—there was nothing more terrifying than the unknown future, after all. Faust handed you the mirror and you stared at it blankly. With much hesitance, you nodded.

"I'll try… how does this even work in the first place?" You tried tapping the glass, wondering if it was some sort of touch screen mirror but you were met with disappointment when it did nothing.

"Snow said to try saying 'please and thank you' to the mirror, I don't know if that'll work though. He said it was moody." Faust let out a dry chuckle, the thought still ridiculous to him but never crossed it out as impossible. If the mirror would truly respond to something like that, it only proved the strangeness of this magical world. You shot him a strange look, a moody mirror? But you pushed back the doubt to the back of your head and put your trust in him instead.

"Mirror, can you show me the future? Pretty please?" You cooed, feeling a bit stupid for pleading to a mirror like this. You waited a few moments for a reaction while looking at the object expectantly, only to be met with utter disappointment when it did absolutely nothing. Faust was silent along with you until he let out a small laugh, did you look stupid when you were doing that? You questioned if Snow was just pulling both of your legs, that mischievous old man!

"As expected, it won't work just because we asked it to."

"Geez, Faust! Do you really think a shabby thing like this can show us the future?" Shabby was the last word you would use to describe the mirror had it not been for your rage towards its defect. It looked elegant and regal, as if it didn't spend centuries lying beneath some rubble—it was a miracle the glass wasn't broken by such heavy fragments lying atop of it. You shook your head and gave Faust the mirror, giving up on it after you added: "How about you try it? It might listen to you because you're the one that picked it up."

He shot you a hesitant look, he had a feeling this wasn't going to end well yet he pushed that feeling into the back of his mind and stared at his reflection—he caught a small glimpse of your face in it while you were looking away and he couldn't help but break into a small smile. At that moment, something changed.

The hand mirror shook slightly in his grasp. Faust, alarmed, tried to make it sit still by gripping it tighter but it proved to be futile when it flew from his grasp and a blinding light filled the room—eliciting gasps of shock from the both of you as Faust grabbed to shield you from whatever was emerging in his room. When the light disappeared, it took him a while to get adjusted to the sudden change but once he did, he saw the hand mirror transformed into a full-body one sitting in the middle of his room.

"What in the world…" Faust left your side to carefully inspect the area, making sure there were no more risks in the area before taking your hand while telling you it was safe—aside from the now huge mirror residing smack middle in his room, its golden glow giving off an intimidating aura. You felt your initial shock turn into excitement.

"Isn't this great? It responded to you! What did you say?" You asked him, curious. You weren't paying attention to him at that time, perhaps you missed something.

"Nothing, actually. It just started vibrating and this happened." Faust tipped his hat slightly, closing his eyes and let out another sigh. One strange thing after another, he was bound to be drained at the end of the day, wasn't he?

"That's strange, you didn't say anything and yet it responded to you… curious." You stroked your chin. Faust stepped into the mirror's view and nothing was out of the ordinary, it showed him nothing of the future, only his reflection. He paused, was it broken after being left there for so many centuries? It was a plausible explanation. It was just like a normal mirror now, it was a shame such a relic has lost its true value—eroded along with the years that passed.

That is, until you stepped into the view.

The moment you stepped into the view, everything that the mirror showed suddenly changed as it emitted a faint white glow. You closed your eyes for a second and you could hear the faint sounds of… bells? You opened your eyes slightly to look at the mirror only for Faust to slap his hand over your eyes to obstruct your vision before you could get a small glimpse of what changed.

A bunch of incomprehensible sounds fell from Faust's lips and you tried to remove his hand from your eyes but that just made his actions more frantic. He grabbed your wrist and dragged you away from the mirror to outside of his room. You tried asking him what his problem was but you were left unheard as he left you outside and shut the door to his room aggressively. By the time you tried making sense of the scenario, you were already staring at his door from outside—did he just kick you out?

Your mouth was wide open when the realization dawned on you—what was his problem!? You crossed your arms grumpily, a part of you wanted to knock on his door again to demand an explanation but another part wanted you to storm off without saying anything to him. You pouted, or was he trying to protect you from something dangerous? Magical items could be dangerous if not handled correctly, after all.

In the end, you didn't know what to do and rested your forehead against his door frame with a clenched fist ready to knock at any given time and a defeated look.

To say Faust panicked back there was an understatement, he felt as if his soul was about to leave his body right then and there when he saw the scene the mirror showed him. He could only breathe a sigh of relief, he was glad he acted quickly before you caught a glimpse of it—that would've made things worse and he wouldn't know what to do. He slumped against the door, feeling a bit light-headed and fuzzy, the heat refusing to leave his face. He was embarrassed.

The sight wasn't something particularly scary or tragic. In fact, it was the complete opposite—though that made it all the more confusing as to why Faust would stop you from looking at it. It was a scene that he saw in one of his many dreams, something that flustered him to no end and wished it would leave him alone.

The bells that rang in the background, the happy couple dressed in white as they looked at each other lovingly, a perfect wedding scene straight from the dreams Faust doesn't tell anyone. A perfect wedding scene of you and him in the distant future—together.

To think your fate was intertwined like this… Faust could only hope that it's a future that's bound to happen. But, right now, he can't let you find out about this lest he wants to live the rest of his life inside the forest hiding from you. He would simply pass away from sheer embarrassment, oh how would he even face you? His cheeks burned red at the thought of a wedding with you once again.

#mhyk #mhyk writing #my writing #promise of wizard #faust #mhyk faust #faust x reader #promise of wizard x reader #mahoyaku x reader #faust lavinia #faust lavinia x reader #no beta we die like white #the wedding rot ... immaculate

[jaceyneedsabetterusername]

Sex Tape

Pairings: Johnny Depp x Reader

Request: “ If you take requests, would you consider doing johnny reaction to like theirs sex tape getting leaked? Reader may also be a celebrity or not. Whatever you prefer “ - @fanficshitandother 

Warnings: Mentions of sex but no actual smut

Word Count: 1800

A/N: Sorry this one is so short. I was having a harder time writing it than I thought I would. I hope you enjoy!

__________________________________

Shit. 

You knew this was a bad idea when he suggested it but no. He just had to have this video “for when he was away filming.” It always ended like this, though, right? It always started out as fun and games until bam! Celebrity sex tape leaked! 

The gossip talk show video that your best friend had sent you was still playing on your phone and you watched in silent horror as the red haired woman talked about your sex life to her male counterpart as if she had any actual right to have an opinion. In the top corner was a picture of you and Johnny at the red carpet for the premier of the Crimes of Grindelwald, his arm around your waist and both of you smiling for the paparazzi pictures. “Okay, guys. You are going to want to hear this,” She started, clasping her absurdly long acrylic-clad fingers together and holding onto her knees, “So there has been yet another sex tape leaked and I want you to guess who’s it is.” She looked over to her co-host. He had a push broom mustache that was bleached blonde to match his hair. 

The man hummed before waving his hand, which also donned long yellow acrylics, “I swear, Laurel, if this is another Kardashian or Paris Hilton tape, I’m gonna scream. That’s such old news.” 

“Actually, it’s someone that I certainly didn’t expect. Johnny Depp and his wife, Y/N L/N.” She dropped the news and the co-star’s mouth dropped. 

“Are you serious? Like Jack Sparrow, Sweeney Todd, Willy Wonka, Johnny Depp?” He asked in total shock, “I didn’t expect that either! But you know what? I feel like he’d be really good in bed.” 

He and Laurel both laughed, “You’re so bad!” She squealed, hitting him with the paper notes in her hand, “But, between you and me,” She leaned in, as if she was telling an actual secret that wasn’t being broadcast on the internet, “I did see it.” 

“And?” 

“It was pretty hot, I can’t lie. That Y/N is a very lucky girl indeed.” The pair giggled like a pair of school girls. 

You were absolutely mortified. How did this happen? How many people had seen it? Who had seen it? Oh God… all you could imagine was your family stumbling across the video or, debatably worse, Johnny’s kids. This had to be one of the worst moments of your life. 

You turned off the video and quickly dialed your husband. “Hello, love.” He greeted cheerily on the other end. The faint sound of cars passing in the background told you he was probably driving home from the meeting he had been at. 

“Did you see it? Did you hear it?” You asked frantically. 

“What?” He asked, confused.

“The video! The video got leaked!” You ran your fingers through your hair messily, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor. 

“What video?” He questioned, not sounding like he fully understood what had happened, but then you could almost feel the weight of realization falling on him, “Wait, our video?” 

“Yes! Our video!” You were yelling at this point, not at him but at the situation and thankfully he understood that. 

“Okay, okay. We’ll- Hang on my manager is calling. Probably to tell me about it. I’ll be home in five minutes. I love you.” He signed off your call quickly before hanging up without giving you the chance to respond. 

While you waited for him to get there, you spiraled down the rabbit hole that was the tabloids and social media. Your phone buzzed off the charts as everyone from your sister to Helena Bonham Carter called you to ask if you were okay. Of course, you weren’t. But it was one phone call from a former college roommate, Sheila, had really gotten your blood boiling. 

“It’s okay! If anything, this is just going to make you more famous! Look at all the other celebs who’ve had their sex tapes leaked. They’re like, super famous.” Sheila sounded more excited than she should have, which certainly made you question her motives behind calling you in the first place. Since marrying Johnny, you’d had the unfortunate displeasure of having to cut a few people off from your past who had randomly called you up after years of little to no contact, asking more favors in the movie industry, money, or even just for the clout of saying they knew you. There really was such a downside to this whole marrying famous person thing that nobody ever really talked about - not that you would take it back, though, of course. You loved Johnny more than anything. 

Still, when the words left her mouth, you felt a flash of anger swell up, “Contrary to what a lot of people might believe, being famous actually kind of sucks,” You spat angrily, “And call me crazy, but I don’t exactly feel thrilled at knowing the whole world as access to a video of my naked ass!” 

“At least it’s a good naked ass, though! Your boobs are looking pretty good too. Did you get them done?” She asked bluntly, still not a care to be heard in her voice. You swore you could almost detect a fake valley girl accent too. 

Your mouth dropped open in disbelief at the words coming from her voice, “I can’t believe you.” Without giving her a chance to respond, you clicked the off button before flipping her off through the screen, though you knew she couldn’t see it. The audacity of some people. 

The front door swung open, drawing your attention as Johnny hurried into the house, setting his bag down by the front door. “How bad is it?” You asked, knowing his manager must have told him the full extent. 

“Do you want the truth?” Johnny saw as panic and humiliation swept across your face, knowing that perhaps that wasn’t the best way to break it to you that it was pretty bad. He stepped forward and wrapped you in his arms, “I told Harrison to take ‘em down. Whenever he found one, he said he’d get it deleted. 

You sighed defeatedly, “That doesn’t stop the fact that a bunch of people already saw it.” Your arms wrapped around Johnny’s torso and you allowed your head to fall against his chest, trying to calm yourself with his scent- exotic spicy cologne and old books. 

His large hand came to stroke through your hair, “That is true,” He conceded with a heavy breath, “But, it also means that fewer and fewer people will continue to see it.” There was a pause in which neither of you said anything, only took a few minutes to hold onto each other while you thought about the future now, “Y’know, I can’t help but feel like this is partly my fault. I shouldn’t have asked to make the video. I’m sorry, Y/N.” 

You shook your head in disagreement, “I agreed to do it too. It’s on both of us. In retrospect, we should have put it on an actual VHS tape or something that would be more difficult to get into the tabloid’s hands.” 

You were tired of this - of this constant running from the vultures that prayed off your every misstep just to turn them against you and create headlining stories. You felt like you couldn’t even breathe without a scandal unless the media allowed it. You were just grateful that you happened to marry one of the most private actors in Hollywood, knowing that whatever pressure you felt, more public figures like Angelina Jolie had it much worse. Still, something inside you stirred, a decision that you’d stop living in fear. 

Johnny pulled back and gave you that infamous cocked eyebrow look of wonder, one that you’d mostly seen him use as Jack Sparrow. Little did everyone know, it was a gesture he’d picked up on doing in real life as well. “Do we even have a VHS player anymore?” 

You chuckled and buried your head back into his white shirt, “I don’t even know. I feel like there must be one laying around somewhere. And if not, I’ll go down to a pawn shop and pick one up just for you to use while filming.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean,” You leaned back, pulling on his shirt to bring him down closer to your level, “That if we’re going to be making you another one of these videos, it’s gonna be on something that stays only between us.” 

Your husband nearly choked on air, “Another one? After what just happened?” 

“Only if you want to and only if it stays on something physical like a CD or VHS that we can mutually agree to burn and destroy if anything happens.” You giggled and Johnny joined in with a low chuckle as well, “But… the video was leaked. We knew that was a risk when we made it. But, y’know what? I’m tired of living in fear of the paparazzi and public. They’ve already seen us fuck. There’s not much else we’ve got to lose.” 

His dark eyes flashed with mischief before he took off in a light jog down the hall without a word. You followed him, “Where are you going?” You giggled, turning the corner to find him digging through your little Harry Potter closet under the stairs. 

When he stood up, he shook his long hair out of his eyes messily and held up an old tape recorder that had to be at least twenty years old. Johnny swayed towards you, jokingly flirtatious as he spoke, “Well, Mrs. Depp, it would seem that you’re in luck because your husband likes to hoard old shit.” 

The grey and black machine seemed to stare at you and some hesitation set in again but then you remembered what you’d said: I’m tired of living in fear… there’s not much else we’ve got to lose. 

Johnny flicked open the side compartment and his eyes opened in surprise to find a tape still in there. He lifted it from the slide and looked it over, shocked to see that it appeared to be an unused blank tape, “Well, well, looks like we’re in luck.” 

Biting your lip, you looked up at him with those eyes before grabbing his hand and running upstairs to your bedroom, dragging him along. “The world thinks they’ve seen us fuck. They only got a preview.” 

“Only a preview? I thought we went pretty hard last time?” He countered with a low challenging laugh.

You turned around at the top of the stairs, one hand on the banister as you turned to face him. His body collided with yours, his hand reaching around the small of your back to steady the two of you and you arched your body into his, being sure to brush your body against his groin, “Oh, Johnny… we’re both throwing our backs out tonight.” 

#Johnny Depp #johnny depp fanfic #John Shelby #johnny depp imagine #johnny depp imagines

[all-things-fic]

Country Lane | Divorce Harry III

Thank you all for waiting for this one. Massive middle finger to tumblr for screwing the post up! Divorce Harry III is finally here!

Shoutout to my lovely ladies who taking time to read this for me @harrytheehottie, @harryfeatgaga, @haute-romance-quotidienne and of course @waitingfortwilight. Also, thank you to all my lovely anons and those of you who come off anon to talk about this, I’ve really loved the general chit chat about the series <3

Without further ado, enjoy! Lots of love and happy Saturday! x

*~*

You had no idea where you were. 

Surrounded by nothing but overgrown grass and the odd wooden fence. If you listened carefully in the distance you could hear the traffic of what you thought could be the A34 road and you were pretty sure that the last sign you had seen before your car cut out had been for Congleton. 

Rubbing your hands down your fresh face, your spa retreat to Mottram Hall for the hen-do of one of the school Mum’s entering her second marriage, was nothing more than a distant memory. As you sat freezing, in your car, looking out onto the harsh autumn weather of October, you were far from relaxed and rejuvenated. 

Worrying your bottom lip with your top teeth, you juggled your phone from palm to palm. You knew you had to call him, you effectively didn’t have any choice. Especially after you’d pulled your way through your glove compartment and you hadn’t come up trumps with your breakdown cover documentation. 

Part of you was cursing in that moment at how you’d handed the piece of paper which held all telephone numbers and car insurance policy account numbers over to your son to scribble upon during one particularly long car session, just to keep him quiet. You were actually sure it was now stuck on your fridge with a lovely drawing of what you presumed to be Marvel characters all over it. 

The worst of it all was that you knew whatever had happened to your car was bad. You knew simply from the way the car had spluttered and started to grind before almost seizing up and stalling to a halt.

Unlocking your phone, you scrolled through your contacts and landed on his contact card. Clicking on it you saw when the last time you had called him was and recalled the soft FaceTime he’d had with your eldest son, who wanted to tell his Daddy about how he’d been picked for the schools first rugby team, taking him out of reserves and off the bench. 

Breathing deeply, you ignored the ache the fond memory began to cause and tapped Harry’s name. The dialling tone that greeted you filled the pit of your stomach with knots as you tried to relax in the leather seat of your Range Rover.

Again, you started to worry your lips at the fifth ring, before the line clicked and you heard his warm voice. You froze at how friendly he sounded, his voice held an edge of laughter to it and you heard shuffling faintly in the background, followed by chatter, before it was shut out.

On the other end of the line, Harry had found himself dodging his way around people in his Mother’s kitchen in Cheshire, before leaving the room and catching your call before it cut off.

“Sorry ‘bout tha’,” he spoke an unnecessary apology, probably because of how long it had taken him to answer, as you remained quiet on the other line.

You blinked harshly at the sound of your name being spoken. “Are you still there?” Harry asked, pulling the phone away from his ear to see that the call was indeed still running. 

“Ye- yeah,” you stuttered, partly due to a soft tremble to your lips from being cold. 

“Everythin’ alrigh’?” He asked, a concerned edge to his question, as you dropped deeper into your car seat. 

Another small amount of silence. 

“Not really,” you responded, honestly. “Where are you?”

With a small frown, he answered, “‘M at Mums. ‘S her birthday this weekend, remember?”

Shit. You’d forgotten.

Heavily breathing in response, you said, “It slipped my mind. Sorry.”

There was a chuckle at the end of the line.

 “Not like you tha’,” he playfully jostled, causing the pit of your stomach to fall through again. You hated how he always managed to make any conversation between the two of you not seem as if you were in the middle of a prolonged divorce. “Usually got everything colour coordinated on our kitchen calendar.”

And he still did that so smoothly too, spoke about things as if you still did them together. The use of ‘our’ and ‘we’ was second nature and so naturally fell off his tongue in a velvety way that was soothing but left you shivering if caught by your touch in a different way. 

As if he could read your mind, before you’d thought it, he said, “Don’t worry. I added everyone’s names to the presents so she thinks they’re from all o’ us.” 

“I shouldn’t have called, you’re busy,” you responded without feeling, starting to pull the phone away from your ear and back to thinking about how you could get in touch with your breakdown cover. There had to be a way, surely.

“Hey, no,” he was urgent. “Don’t hang up, ‘s fine. I’ve pulled myself away. ‘S okay- please. Don’t hang up on me, something’s not right ‘ere. ‘S okay to still need me sometimes, y’ know?” 

“It’s okay, I can sort it myself-“ you flung your car door open. “Can you just tell me know how to pop the bonnet up on this car, cause it’s been so bloody long since I last had to do it-“

“Pop the bonnet? Why’d you need to do that? Have you broken down somewhere?” His questions were clipped as he asked. 

“Don’t get arsey with me-“ 

“‘M not,” he replied, quickly cutting. He really was. “Are the kids wi’you?”

“‘S alright for me be stranded on the side of the road on my own when it’s about to get dark-“

“Did I say that?” Again, he words were clipped. “Are you trying to wind me up?”

“Why have you not told me how to raise the bonnet?”

He sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose before walking the short distance in his Mother's hallway to lower himself, slowly, down to sit on the stairs. 

“Underneath the passenger side there’s a lever,” he paused his softer tone, giving you time to find it. As he spoke you trampled against the grass closest to the passenger side and opened the door. Looking down at a red lever, which had clearly made itself known to you now that it had been brought to your attention.

“Found it?” he asked, hearing you hum. 

You shut the passenger door of your car and stared at the slightly popped up bonnet, Harry’s voice filling your ears again. “If you feel underneath the bonnet, between the E and the R there is another little lever. Squeeze that and it’ll release the bonnet-“

“Where’s the little thing to keep it up?”

He breathily chuckled, “‘s on hydraulics so keeps itself up.” 

Again, you didn’t respond and he was met with silence. Harry rested his chin against his palm waiting for you to speak, eyes looking towards the dimming light as night began to approach. 

“Wha’ can you see?”

“Not a whole lot, it looks fine to me.“

“Darling, just let me come to you.” 

“But this is why I pay for breakdown cover,” you snapped. 

“Where are you?” He asked, voice deep and to your annoyance laced with concern that he should no longer hold. 

You stammered trying to figure out some sort of excuse to bullshit him with, eyes taking in the country lane and the vast greeness around you. 

“Last time ‘m askin’,” he harshly cut in. “‘S gonna get dark soon, so jus’ tell me where y’are.”

“Somewhere near Congleton.”

“And wha’s the matter wi’the car?”

You noted his voice on his last question was a bit pinched, probably from focusing on another task like pulling on a pair of trainers to bring him to you. He clearly wasn’t playing along anymore. 

“Well, I think I’ve had an oil leak but none of the lights have come on to officially let me know whether I have or haven’t. The only thing is the nasty black marks that are on the driveway at home, but ‘s nothing that couldn't probably be jet washed off-“

As you rambled about cleaning the oil from the drive of the Hampstead home, Harry zoned out beginning to list the things he would probably require to bring with him. He was sure some of it could be found in Robin’s old garage, knowing that boxes of tools were still piled in the far corner. 

“Send me your exact location via text.”

“Harry-“ you sighed.

“‘M not askin’, ‘m telling,” he abruptly responded. 

***

People say that Googling symptoms is never a good thing, you suppose the same could be said for a car. 

Were they symptoms though? You couldn’t quite coherently think of another descriptor for them as they brought up search after search at how you quite possibly could have ruined your car.

You tried not to dwell as the sky around you began to get darker while you sat in the safe passing place on the country lane. It wasn’t like you had much choice but to stick around. 

Cold, and dithering slightly, you had taken to throwing your coat over your body like a blanket as simply wearing it wasn’t keeping your entire body warm enough. 

Car doors locked and eyes closed, you tried to find some solace in your waiting. You didn’t have much avail, as you were interrupted by the harsh white lighting of LED headlights breaking through the dimming dusk sky.

You frowned, eyes squinting as the light got closer and pulled in behind you. A sense of uncertainty filled your body at the new arrival, along the otherwise desolate road.

A figure of a male jumped out of the car behind you, causing you to still all of your movement in your car seat as you tried to make out any features to you that would make you comfortable in knowing it was Harry. 

The blinding lights made it far too difficult to see anything and you were beginning to think that the person behind you had left them on, on purpose. Unless they were those annoying ones that slowly turned themselves off. 

Staring out you vaguely were able to make out the figure approaching you and as he got halfway you relaxed.

It was Harry. 

He rapped his knuckles gently at your driver's side window and then smiled to himself as he realised how you wouldn’t be able to open it due to your inactive engine. 

“Open the door for me,” he spoke, his voice slightly muffled as it came through your car window. He watched as you reached for the door handle inside and pushed the door ajar ever so slightly. “Could you have picked anywhere more hidden away?”

You didn’t respond straight-away, deciding instead to take him in as he stood with his left arm leaning up against the doorframe of your car. His right arm taut as he held the car door open and away from you both, not wanting it to cause any obstruction. 

Underneath his khaki parka you could faintly make out a worn Versace tee as it hung open, unzipped. You internally rolled your eyes. What kind of person wore Versace to fix a car and possibly get covered in oil in the process? 

As you rested your head back against the seat behind you, you silently enjoyed the way he looked down at you. It was always quite frustrating, even more so now you weren’t together, how magnetising he was. 

“Do me a favour?” He broke the silent stare, “Lean over and pull the lever for me? Don’t quite fancy walking around the car and possibly going down a ditch.”

“My parking isn’t that bad!” You chastised, watching the way his lips twitched. “I’m being courteous of other cars on this tiny lane, given them extra room near the passing place-“

“You got miles of space this side of the dotted line,” he spoke cutting in, eyes wide and filled with humour. “Surprised you didn’t drive down the hill bank the other side to be extra courteous.”

“Can pull the lever yourself now, hope you break your ankle-“

“No you don’t-“

“I’d just leave you here, you know? Take the keys out of your pocket and go.“

“Don’t need to resort to petty crime,” his voice was a bit weaker now but still just as cheeky. “Could’ve just asked for ‘em.” 

Your eyes moved towards the glinting keys that he held loosely by the key ring after quickly retrieving them from his pocket. Tauntingly wanting you to reach out from them.

“You’re just going to pull them away, if I grab for ‘em.”

“‘M not,” he stressed with a slight laughter. “You’re always so cynical and defensive. Not even thanked me for driving out to come and get you.”

You didn’t respond, instead you gently reached for the keys, feeling him slightly shift them from your grip as he enjoyed the determination on your face. 

Fingers filled with want, you still grabbed for them, successfully but having to be halfway out of the seat and door of your car in order to fulfill your achievement.

When your feet met the ground beneath you, you quickly shifted around to pull your coat on properly. As you moved from the doorway, you watched as Harry dropped his chest onto the driver's seat and reached across the width of the car to pull the lever without needing to walk around the car to do so.

Putting a bit of distance between you, so you didn’t fall foul of staring too long at his bum in his blue jeans, you stalled yourself as he pushed his body up to standing and flipped through a book in his hands. 

“Harry?”

“Yeah?” He said, flicking through what you now knew to be the car’s manual that he must’ve also grabbed from the glove box while inside the car. When you didn’t reply he tore his eyes away from the pages and over to you. 

“You’re a good man.”

The honesty in your voice, knocked him. “‘M not, but ‘m trying t’be.”

The two of you stared at each other in the dimming darkness and you knew your gaze matched his sad one. 

Clearing his throat, he threw the manual against the driver’s seat. “Anyway out m’ sight, leave the men to the work an’ all tha’. ‘S got heated seats an’ all, if you’re into tha’ sorta thing.”

***

You felt bad watching him out in the cold and dark, a light hanging from the bonnet the only source around him that you imagined was keeping him going. 

Sitting in the passenger seat, you let your eyes roam around the black interior of his car that was incredibly spacious and so suitable for your barrage of children. 

Your attention turned to outside again as you saw Harry move around from your car and walk up towards his own. His forearm came up to wipe across his mouth, bringing your attention to his facial hair that seemed to be getting thicker and thicker. 

Without needing to be prompted, you pressed the button to lower the driver's side window and watched as he pressed his forearms into the resting place you had created for him now there was no window blocking his way.

“Can you get me one of them shammy cloths from out o’the boot please? Jus’ need to double check the dipstick.” 

You nodded as he continued, “Would do it m’self but-“ he paused, opening out his hands and showing how dirty his fingers were to you. 

“It’s fine,” you said, leaving the car and joining him. “I feel a bit useless anyway,” you admitted. 

Both of you remained silent when he joined you at the back of his car, two sets of eyes easily spotting what you were looking for. You opened the packet of two cloths, a horrible peach colour, and passed him one before swapping places with him.

You moved to stand at the side of the car, watching him drop his head inside the boot to see if there was anything else he needed while he was at the other car. 

“Since when did you become one of them?”

“One of who?” He asked, his head popping around the side of his car and out of the boot to look at you.

“Your lights on this car are far too bright.”

He rolled his eyes, remaining quiet as he turned back to the contents of his boot. He wasn’t going to respond to your unnecessary nitpicking.

“It’s really nice inside though. Single about me did well then,” you found yourself saying the comment in a biting fashion, unable to hold your tongue. 

“Which one?” He bit right back, a clanging heard from the boot, “I asked you if you wanted a credit, you said no.” 

You clammed up. He hadn’t taken what you said as a joke. A bit of light humour, you thought, for the road. It was your own fault. You’d become that sort of annoying person you often could get when you found yourself awkwardly doing nothing with yourself. Your delivery of your joke didn’t help either. 

“Think I preferred you when you stayed sat, quiet, in the car,” Harry said, head moving out from the boot again so you could read his expressions. Raised eyebrows and twitching lips. 

“Piss off,” you glared at him, slowly turning to walk away. 

Now it was Harry’s turn to think you were joking, as he shouted after you. “Really gonna be like that after I turned up to save you. That’s twice now I’ve had t’remind yer.” 

“You insisted-“

“I know I did,” he spoke around a chuckle. “Now where’re you off to?”

“‘M walking home-“

“Don’t be so fucking ridiculous,” he shouted after you, a frown jarring through his light features when he moved from the open boot to walk closer to you as you turned back around to face him. 

***

He managed to coax you to sit back in the car not much longer after you’d stormed off in a huff. Not without a fight, but this was one he was willing to back down on just to get you to stop storming off. 

Looking back on it now, the scene was probably quite funny to some passerby or outsider, or it would’ve been if you weren’t so secluded. A female dressed in the most fetching of clothes - sarcasm noted - arguing in the middle of a street. Like some five year old in need of a nap. 

Speaking of naps, your eyes shot open wide at the loud bang of your car bonnet being shut. You hadn’t realised that you’d begun to doze until you were abruptly woken. 

Bleary vision was quickly erased with a rub of your eyes, as you moved to face the front and pushed your hair from your face.

You were met with Harry busy fiddling with the wires of his lamp. His face dropped down and hair falling so easily into his eyes. He kept walking rather than look into the car to see if you were still with him. Instead, he dropped everything that was in his hands into the boot and proceeded to annoyingly continue to subconsciously show off by pressing a button to close his boot automatically. 

Staying wrapped up in one of your kids car blankets, you curled your legs underneath your body and rested your right cheek against the headrest. You continued to be silent as you started to wake up, eyes blinking slowly as you watched Harry in the dark pull open his car door.

He swung his body into the car with an almighty groan, one that caused you in your sleepy haze to softly smile. He looked shattered as he relaxed in his seat and rested his head backwards.

With eyes closed he sighed heavily, letting you take him in without a care. You’d noticed that at some point since your nap he’d removed his coat and now he sat in just his t-shirt and jeans. Both, of which, now looked like they had seen better days.

His brow had begun to perspire as he entered the warmth of his car, the quick switch from the Baltic (slight over exaggeration) temperatures outside to those more welcoming inside the G-Wagon could do that to you. 

“Don’t think it’s fucked completely,” he said to break the silence, wiping his face and sweat with the back of his hand and wrist, to try and ensure his oil covered fingers didn’t leave any other stains on his skin.

You enjoyed the way he used the back of his hand, wrist and forearm to wipe at his now slightly clammy skin. Stupidly it emphasised how defined his upper body had become. “Dipstick wasn’t as dry as I was expecting,” he continued, “Just topped her up and ‘m ‘oping she turns over and sounds as good as new.” 

Again, silence. His eyes staring straight ahead of him, yours enjoying his profile. God, he had a fantastic nose. It was definitely something that your daughter had inherited and you wondered if it would be a feature that a loved one in her life would sometimes admire in the next generation. 

“Got any baby wipes wi’ you?” He cut his eyes to yours from the corner of his vision, taking in the way you were curled up in the passenger seat wearing the car blanket of your eldest son. 

His eyes lingered on your shape for a while, dropping down and enjoying the way you had curled yourself up and presented to him in such a cosy vision. It meant you felt relaxed around him and that was all he ever wanted. 

It was a nice contrast to the emotive happenings between the two of you that had almost become commonplace of late. A foreign feeling that was so simple, but so exciting. 

Without verbal response you reached from your handbag that was in the footwell to have a look inside at the contents. 

“Don’t wanna leave this car, been a bit spoiled over the last hour or so. Could do with an upgrade myself as they’re all getting older and need a bit more room,” you spoke as you rummaged around, movements still slightly sluggish.

You were successful in finding what you needed, the rustling of the plastic packaging jarring to your ears. Quickly pulling at the cover overlay, you swiftly pulled out a couple of wipes with such a mom-like finesse that had you balancing them on top of the now closed packet as you turned to face Harry. 

“Don’t even think about making it a clause in the divorce,” he joked, eyes looking up at you from underneath his brow. His eyebrows snapped up in shock as you snatched at his hand and abruptly pulled at the baby wipes you’d retrieved from inside your handbag. 

The two of you fell silent as you wiped at his left hand first, watching the black of the oil slowly leave his fingers. Breathing was heavy in the empty space as you didn’t dare raise your gaze higher to look into his eyes, that you knew were watching you. 

“It’s so attractive, how much of a Mum you are,” he dared to say what he really thought as his humoured expression fell away. “Cleaning my hands up nicely, like ‘m your child that’s made a mess of m’dinner.” 

“Harry,” you sighed his name, fidgeting softly in your seat. He chuckled in such a husky way that you found yourself softening regardless of the way it riled you. 

Releasing his left hand, you reached straight for his right. Seeing the way he caught himself and stopped it before it fell against his lap. He smoothly reached for you, brushing your hair behind your shoulders as it began to curtain across the right side of your face.

“Last time m’hands were this dirty, you were licking and sucking ‘em clean.”

You felt your face begin to heat up from his brazenness.

“Are you blushing for me?” He whispered, his left hand moving along your jaw, to tilt your head upwards. He had a hold of your jaw, slightly rougher than before and while your face played ball, your eyes did not. “‘S been ages since you blushed fo’me.”

Again the sound of breathing filled the car, Harry’s gaze all over your features before his other words punctuated the air, “Look a’me.”

As your eyes moved sharply to the right, you looked at the way he’d lolled his head back. His thumb slowly pulled at your bottom lip, watching the way it softly bounced from his touch, before he lifted it to trace faintly over your Cupid’s bow.

“Missed your lips,” he admitted, enjoying the light puffs of breath that bounced against the pad of his thumb. Before you could think, you’d taken his thumb inside your mouth, an appreciative groan leaving his lips.

You felt the way his fingers cupped under your chin, gently stroking at your skin, silently caressing. Teeth nipping playfully against the skin of his thumb as you pulled away. 

“How much?” You asked, lips turning to ghost against the inside of his hand. 

His eyes lingered as you watched him nudge his chin up slightly, silently asking for you to come to him. 

You sucked in a heavy breath as you leaned into him, the dimming ceiling light of the car slowly allowing darkness to swallow you both. A faint smile nudged your lips as your nose fell against his top lip.

He scooped you under his arm - lining you up better - hands trying to hold you as near to him as he could as you leaned over the centre console of the car to be closer to him. 

“Enough,” he husked, before adding, “Your nose is cold,” in a passing tone, lips against your temple now. Breathing deeply through your nose you let him pull you even closer, unable to believe that you weren’t close enough. Muffled apologies left your lips, about how your nose was cold. 

The soft drag of his lips to yours pulled you under a haze that swept away your apologies and into a tender reacquaintance. His lips were slightly shaking against yours and you weren’t sure if it was to do with the cold that he had found himself in or if it were due to his nervousness. 

Regardless he was steady. Knew exactly what he was doing and what he wanted. Pulling kiss after kiss from you in the slowest fashion that you felt yourself beginning to warm up. 

“‘S nice to have a little kiss,” he gently spoke against the corner of your mouth. “Missed you treating me to ‘em.” 

“I think you just know exactly what to say,” you murmured as you allowed him to continue ghosting his lips over yours. “Know exactly what you're doing.”

“‘F you’re suggesting that I’m trying it on,” he murmured against your lips, “I absolutely fucking am.”

“Would never have guessed,” you looked at him with heavy eyelids, head now nudged back slightly to enable you to see his entire face. He smirked at you, eyes blinking slowly as he willed you to him once more.

His hand was secure around the back of your neck, fingers messily woven through your hair. His other hand gently massaged at the top of your back, over your fetching loungewear that you had chosen to drive home in.

“‘S it working?”

“What do you think?”

Harry’s eyes dropped in a slow blink as he felt the way your hand lowered down his chest and abdomen, which was wavering slightly from his nervous anticipation. 

Dropping your head down to his chest, you left a kiss to his pec as you mumbled and felt the button of his jeans giveway to your fingers and thumb. “I am grateful, you know?”

“Yeah?”

The ruffle of your hair against the cotton of his tee filled the car, him recognising it as you nodding. 

“Me too,” he assured. 

And he was. Grateful.

For the life he’d had with you up until this point.

The family the two of you had created. The one you were so fiercely fighting for. Messily and viciously, all from a good place. The best place. 

He licked at his dry lips, leaving his mouth to hang open slightly as he watched you descend down to his semi that was hidden in the confines of his jeans.

“Both of us need warming up,” he mused, his hands sliding from your hair and down your back, slowly and gently to your slightly raised bum from how you had placed yourself over the center console. “In’t that right?”

A dull slap of his hand against your leggings-clad bum had you rocking back as you felt his hands slide under the waistband to massage at your cheek.

Swallowing heavy, Harry tilted back his head and even through his hooded eyes he caught his blissed expression in the rear view mirror, as he felt you take his balls into your mouth and gently suckle.

He rasped your name as he basked in the dirty licks, heavily laden with saliva from your watering mouth before you took him into your throat. Obscene sounds from your actions wove between his heavy breathing and quick pants. 

“Fuck me, darling.” 

With his hand that was still against your bum, he pulled you closer. Hands desperate to have purchase of something as you gently but messily sucked and licked, desperate to feel the tickle of his pubic hair against the tip of your nose to know you’d successfully taken him all the way down.

His breathing was shaky, a quick hiss leaving his lips as he felt the way your nails dug into his denim clad thighs from his previous movements to try and hold steady. The position wasn’t ideal, but the feeling of your shaking breath against his wet cock as you nosed against his jeans had him smiling.

As you turned your head slightly to look at him from the corner of your vision, you noticed the way he was looking down at you. How powerful he seemed in that moment as you were slightly beneath him. 

The thought changed though with the way his hand came up to your face, his thumb against your wet lips for the shortest time before he cradled the back of your head to help pull you back up and avoid any mishaps. 

He tugged you forward to crush his mouth to yours with pleased hums as he tasted himself on you. Lips smacking as he pulled kiss after kiss from your mouth, smiling at the eagerness of you both.

His hands joined yours as they pulled at his jeans, his hips lifting in the seat and his arms strong as he pushed the denim and underwear down to sit closer to his knees. 

“Mm,” he hummed, as his bare bum cheeks met the heated seat beneath them. “Put the seats on fo’me.”

“Don’t say I don’t ever treat you nicely.”

He huskily chuckled as he brought your lips back to him again. “Nice an’ warm,” he lazily spoke, acknowledging the heated seats. “Jus’ for me.”

And he knew every bit of his words meant the double entendre that you had caught,looking on as you pulled away to sink back into your own seat 

Looking over at him, you noticed the lust behind his eyes as he slowly pumped his hand up and down his wet and aching cock when you sunk back into your own seat and watched his head loll against the headrest once more. His nostrils flared as he bit down on his bottom lip and nudged his chin up, getting you silently to come to him once more when he’d seen your movements in removing your own bottoms had ended.

“Wouldn’t do this for anyone else, y’know that?” You said around your messy kiss as you raised your legs and felt his hands guide you to straddle him. Hands splayed across your lower back and the top half of your bum as he secured you to him. 

“Should bloody ‘ope not.” 

As you sat above him, you could feel him there. Sprung back and wet. Your mouths rested against each other, heavy and open. Eyes moving to and fro over each other’s.

“Been at this too long to start sharing now.”

Your hips moved forward at his words, with the smallest of motions but it was enough to make his cock glide between your lips. His expression was one of immeasurable pleasure regardless of how little the touch.

Deep down you knew you didn’t have time for this sort of behaviour. The kind where you revelled in the nudge of him against your clit, and the way it caused you to gasp lightly while your brow creased and forehead fell against his. 

“Take it,” he encouraged as you rolled your hips on him. “Let me in.”

Heavy breathing and shaking hands, you held Harry’s eyes as you reached behind you to take him in your hand. 

Wrapping your fingers around his length, you raised yourself, feeling him shuffle down slightly  in his seat to help ensure you didn’t bump your head as you lifted. Fingers gave way when he lined up nicely, slipping only his tip inside of you.

This stretch was one like no other. A burn that you savoured as much as the expression that welcomed you from the desire felt by the only man who had ever made you feel this way. His one hand crawled up your back, to cup around your neck, anchoring you to him. 

When you were fully seated shaky exhales bounced against each other’s lips. Every tremble of you above him felt so vividly by Harry. The way your thighs shook from the small confines you found yourself in, to the quiver of your fingers against his neck and jaw. 

“You’re so big,” your moan was feeble. Embarrassing in many ways. Especially given the amount of times you’d done this with him. 

“Mm,” he agreed. “‘S cause ‘m so hot for you. Got me so hard. Always have.”

“Always will-“

“Always will,” he confirmed.

Your moan was thick as it left your throat, his words enough to get you to roll against him and have you clit drag pleasing against his pelvis.

He groaned, knowing that’s what you were doing too. Having been in this position so many times before. No one had ever had you this way, and you knew no one ever would either. A pleasure this giving was one of familiarity. Aided so deeply by feeling. 

When your mouth met his again the only word to describe your kiss was sinful. His tongue waiting to meet yours, flicking so easily and far too filthily for those on the cusp of middle age. 

But he still had it. 

The gleaming boyish gaze and curling smile. Could charm his way into any heart and into any pair of knickers. But the ones he had chosen time and time again were yours. Regardless of their sexiness at times.

“Yes,” you gasped, pulling away from his mouth and feeling his hands encourage the knocking of your hips against his. 

You were close, nowhere to go and not wanting to go anywhere. How you had made it here so quickly, you weren’t sure. Maybe it was the surroundings, how you potentially could get caught. Maybe it was because your partner - husband - just knew you so well. 

His eyes didn’t want to leave you as they admired the flushed skin you were beginning to show and the gleaming, plush lips that you were rolling into your mouth to hide your pleasure. 

“That’s it, fuck me,” his voice was hushed, quick in its delivery. “‘S wha’ it’s all about,” he hummed, as you rocked your hips over his. Knocking his head back against the headrest once more.

As he looked down his nose at you, he watched as your eyes fell to your navel, taking in each roll of your hips. Your expression dropped with realisation, slightly pained. “What’s wrong?”

Looking up at him, you wish you hadn’t. You wished you’d kept your eyes down to see the ripple of his abdomen each time your body flexed around him. That way it wasn’t doused in emotion, it was just raw pleasure that lived in your mind.

“We shouldn’t be doing this anymore. Needs to be the last time.”

A mix of a breathy laugh and scoff left his lips as he urged you to restart your hips that were starting to stall above him, “Bit late for tha’ now, don’t yer think?” 

Falling against him, you hid your face feeling his lips over the shell of your ear and against your hair. His hand gently stroked at your hair, lips moving to your temple and pressing affection kisses that did nothing but make you feel worse.

“Do you want t’stop? Mm?” He asked, feeling your hips so tight against his, but your core so open that he hoped you would say no. Widening his thighs he pressed his feet into the footwell, seeking momentum to meet your hips with his own.

“‘S okay to love me still,” he groused, feeling your chin tremble from his words. “‘S okay to let me love you still. This is okay, us just doing this is okay.” 

It wasn’t okay and he knew. He also knew everything he was saying - every single word - was just a way to satiate you. 

So, you let them. Swallowed the lump in your throat and inhaled deeply. 

His words were cut short as he groaned, “Sit up for me, fuck me properly.” 

Sitting yourself up, you felt the way Harry’s hands moved so that the backs of his fingers were smoothing against your lower stomach. Sweaty palm turned, he pressed it gently down your stomach and let his thumb finger your clit.

The softest frown hit your brow, as his thumb slowly rubbed in a downwards motion at your sensitivity. From his actions you felt a warmth pool around both him and you, Harry groaning appreciatively as he felt it too.

“Yeah,” he stressed the word as you gripped at his t-shirt which sat against his stomach. Cotton in handfuls as you scrunched the fabric. “‘S tha’ nice- good?”

You nodded.

“‘S it enough?”

You nodded with more fervour. Eyes holding his as you sucked your bottom lip into your mouth and scratched along his right forearm as he continued to gently swipe at your wet clit.

The abruptness of the rock to your hips showed itself as the warmth within your belly grew. Eyes now hooded, you were unable to stop them from closing as your mouth parted to desperately say, “Don’t stop.”

And you didn’t know who you were talking to; yourself or Harry.

Harry responded with a moan so deep that you clenched down around him, causing his free hand to reach up and squeeze harshly against your hips. 

“‘M going to come so hard for you ‘f you keep doing that,” he gritted, breathing shallow as he felt his chest constrict. “Like tha’, just like that.”

His words were low, and like just moments before you weren’t sure if they were for him or you, but they had you moaning his name. Head dropping against his, his hand gripping at the back of your neck. 

With one hard roll of your hips, you cried out, forehead against his chin and mouth fallen. His hand squashed between your bodies as you shook and convulsed. 

Pliant for him, you were too dazed to move as you felt his arm wrap securely around your back and hold you to him, tight.

A merciless and repeated smack of his hips upwards, which you were sure would have the car rocking, made you aware of him seeking his release. He moaned your name, as he pulled you down to him, his orgasm shooting into you.

His heavy breathing was hot against your sweltering skin when you finally came to, his grunts melding into your neck as your core continued to flutter in the aftermath of your own release. 

His hands somewhat selfishly and most definitely greedily moved you against him, both crooning at the sensitive rush that met you before he lifted you to aid himself with slipping out.

Cold air met his sensitivity, as he nuzzled against you. Hand crawling up your back, under your shirt and feeling your damp skin peel away from his own as he moved his hand up and down. 

“Want to try out the back wi’me after this,” he hummed, brushing your hair off your face with his other hand. His words were heavy as they pressed into the skin of your cheek while he still tried to catch his breath.

As much as you knew you should, you didn’t even try to stop yourself from nodding.

***

Looking forward to hearing all of your thoughts! x

#Harry Styles #harry styles smut #harry smut #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fan fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles x yn #harry styles x y/n #my writing #divorce!harry

[1d-discourseoftheday]

Fri 8 Jan ‘21

Zayn's new song Vibez is out! And the Vibez video is here! It is indeed the video he filmed at the theater last month, though you barely see the place- but you can in shots where we see Zayn sitting in the audience of the production, watching himself perform and travel through various stage sets, indoor to cityscape to woods to sea. Much to think about! The sets are very cool, I love Z's visual imagination always, and, no shocker here, he is looking extremely good. He never doesn't but it's always a punch in the face all over again what with him parceling out glimpses of himself so rarely! And he's doing some lowkey promo-- he (well, someone) tweeted “Vibez out now! Nobody is Listening” which was really weird, but it was them announcing that NIL (VERY cool acronym) is out the 15th so I guess I'll have to get used to that phrase being thrown around, and he (himself) talked to fans on insta which was, of course, THE BEST. I'm so excited! said a fan. “Me too,” said Zayn; “might do some promo,” plus “all tears will be saved to power the next project,” and “fanks mate,” but also: “calm down.” Then sure enough he retweeted promo links off and on all day, WHOA THERE PAL SLOW DOWN! I think he's passed his whole 2020 tweet count just today! PLUS NIL merch is here and it's SO NICE, the album cover art looks GREAT on all the stuff- hoodies etc plus notebooks and pins (promo codes are also available see tags). AND the tracklist is up!! Look at all those songs we're gonna hear so soon, omg. There are two collab tracks-- one with Syd (Odd Future/ The Internet) and one ft UK hip hop artist Devlin (see below for a REAL GOOD Devlin TB moment*).

Break My Heart, a new song by JC Stewart, is also out now-- and you can not only hear Niall's influence as a writer on the track, you can hear his voice as a singer on the track! Just background vocals but very distinctive, and so's his writing- the chorus sounds just like a HBW track, am I right? Niall was on twitter in honor of the occasion (might do some promo!), commenting on a wedding post where they play Black and White about what a good song it was

I guess we're taking the day off from Holivia pap pics cause it's Fri (or cause they ran out) but soon it will be the weekend and they can shoot a new batch for the next week I guess! Or maybe it's pause time to make space for all these articles about how much Olivia's ex misses her and wants her back and how 'his friends' think her relationship with Harry 'is a PR thing' and isn't real (GOSH could it BE) but look out, people are also using the downtime to dig up all her past PR relationships and their similar looking trajectories (we already knew all about Harry's copy/ paste routine). Copy of a copy of a copy indeed. Anyway, iheartradio says they've now played Watermelon Sugar a BILLION times (which sounds like a lot unless you had the radio on even once in 2020 in which case you already knew this), and Fine Line is climbing to new highs on the UK album chart-- it might make number one next week? Getting that headline payoff!!

*some may remember Devlin from when Louis tweeted about his album, leading people to go check it out and discover the following lyrics: “So is it true did William father Kate's baby?/ I don’t really think so, if you ask me he don’t like ladies/ Could have been Harry, yeah, I bet it was Harry.”

#zayn #niall horan #harry styles #hot oli really coming through with the research duties today wow everyone say THANK YOU intern #zayn got that video sponcon going on but my favorite part is the little executive toy thats cgi-ed to be on beat #zayn promo codes: G%6!HB35 and V$KQN$J% used together is supposedly 35% off! #does it work hell if I know I'm broke babes but damn I wish I could get that hoodie #the NIL hoodie and the LP rainbow hoodie really I would wear them both they're so good #if only I could get that sponcon $ like zayn if I just tag in omega and LG to my posts will they hook me up too? #Eleanor's back from her time off work or whatever with a somewhat gloomy post about the state of the world #and says 'I’ll be walking my dogs if anyone needs me' aw yeah it can be hard to get back to the workplace after a break we know :/ #the house harry and O were papped at belongs to Jeff #the people eating at outdoor tables in the pap pics are probably sitting with takeout food the pictures are not months old #8 jan 21

[wreckofawriter]

Best Not To Cry Over Spilled Milk

Pairing: James Potter x Sirius' twin!reader

Warnings: A shit ton of angst, a little swearing

Word Count: 3,779

Request: @rini-scallison: May I request something? If I may I would like to request something like not so perfect sister but instead it’s with Sirius as the brother (a twin if you may) and the reader is like the perfect daughter and Sirius hates her but she tries really hard for him to have a happy life and there’s a bunch of angst and stuff ! You can add a romance in there if you would like too ! Thank you!

A/n: Okay sooo I'm not sure if this is exscatly what the request was but it's how I interpreted it, I really like it at least, I hope you guys do to. I'm hoping to bang out my last few requests, I'm quarantined till April 12th sooo... (stay safe everyone, love you all <3)

Sirius liked to believe he was a pleasant person. At least for the most part, and considering his background, he thought he did pretty good. He may not have been an angel but he had good friends, he helped those around him and unless your name was Severus, he was usually kind. Usually. Unfortunatly there were two people in this world that could break his carefully crafted exterior in a matter of seconds. They both shared his name.

The first was his mother, someone who in all honesty he saw as less of a human and more of a grotesque creature from a child’s nightmare. In his mind, her black heels were replaced by sharp talons. Her long fingernails were claws of obsidian and her dark eyes had the ability to turn you to stone. She had spent her time in Sirius’ life diminishing him to nothing more than a clone of her terror as he tried to make himself anything but. 

The second was a success story. The clone of his mother’s terror. His beloved twin, y/n Black or as many had taken to calling her recently; the Slytherin Queen. And boy was she. She followed every order dispatched to her, obeyed every demand, bowed before the monster that had raised her. She had kept on her blindfold her mother had placed on her the minute she had entered the world. Maybe it only took the twelve minutes which y/n had emerged before Sirius for her to fall under a spell which even the youngest black had started to break from. 

    Sirius was never sure what happened to you. You always sat with your back straight at the dinner table. You never complained about the corset which was always sinched too tight, you would just let your vision go dark from the lack of oxygen. And it completely infuriated him. 

    Sirius really wished he hadn’t cared when he had gotten the letter. He really wished he had thrown a party and done something stupid like set off fireworks in the common room. But he hadn’t. He had instead demolished an entire bottle of fire whiskey crying because, fuck it hurt to be tossed aside by the people who were supposed to love you most.  The next morning he dragged you into an empty classroom hungover and still smelling of liquor and asked you what he fuck had happened. 

    You had told him you begged your mother not to, you told a sob story about a sad little argument in which you- the obvious victim -had fought for his place on the banner in your living room. 

The truth had been very different, his mother had exposed the fact that it was indeed your idea to kick him from the family, that you were convinced he was a disgrace, nothing more than a bug to squash under your boot. He wished he could believe you not his monster. But he knew you. He knew you so goddamn well. You were his twin. His other half. He saw the way your eyes darted away from his own, you shifted on your feet, how you bit the inside of your cheek. You had lied. You had lied to him and he would never forgive you for it. 

    “And what is the M.O.M classification of the Phoenix?” Merrythought asked. Your hand shot in the air. “Ms. Black?” 

    “An XXXX professor, although it did not earn this rating from its aggression but only because so few wizards have been able to domesticate it.” You explained and Sirius rolled his eyes. 

    “Correct Ms. Black, five points to Slytherin.” The teacher praised, you beamed still sitting straight as a board.  

    Sirius let out a cough that sounded suspiciously like the words ‘Kiss ass’ earning a few giggles from the surrounding students. 

    You pretended you didn’t hear him, hand tightening around your quill. 

    James watched as your knuckles went white, How did your brother still bother you? He wondered. 

    Sirius leaned back in the chair next to him mumbling something unnecessarily rude. James fought the urge to roll his eyes. When class was dismissed Sirius made a point to pass you as you packed up. 

    “You’ll make an excellent death eater sis.” He taunted and you paused for a moment but refused to comment. 

    Sirius left the classroom James followed risking a glance over this shoulder to see you being joined by a blonde boy and the Lestrange sisters. Sirius caught him looking and sneered, “A bunch of future murders. Fuckin’ assholes.” 

“You know you could give her a rest, you haven’t even spoken in like a year,” James suggested. 

Sirius scoffed, “And who’s fault is that?” 

James shrugged, knowing the awnser. 

“You know she’s ghosting Reg too?” Sirius glowered, “He always looked up to her too, I have no clue why, but he did. And now she won’t even talk to him.” 

Remus and Peter joined the pair as they made their way into the Grand Hall. 

“Talking about y/n?” Remus inferred.

“Hard not to when she’s such a bitch.” 

James cringed at his friend’s choice of words.  “I’m hungry, let's get some food.” He spoke attempting to change the topic. 

“Why else would be in here?” Remus laughed. 

James cracked a smile opening his mouth to speak but was cut off. 

“Oh shit.” Sirius cussed. 

“What did you do?” Remus sighed, rolling his eyes. 

“I didn’t do anything but can you get me food and meet me in the common room, I may or may not be avoiding Marleen,” Sirius spoke ducking behind James.  

“Sure, just get out of here, I really don’t want to hear her voice right now.” Peter cringed at the memory of being yelled at by the sharp toned girl. 

“I’ll get food, you guys ditch,” James suggested. The other three agreed to leave the hall as the fourth grabbed four plates filling each and flicking his wand causing them to float in the air surrounding him.

James then made his way from the hall. As he turned out of the door he ran straight into someone, stumbling backward a bit he straightened his gaze to see you, your group of what he supposed were friends sneered at him. 

“You guys go on, I’ll catch up.” You spoke, voice monotone. 

They silently agreed, leaving you with the curly-haired boy who now pushed his glasses nervously up his nose. 

“Hey Potter, I need to talk to you.”  James would never admit he was scared of you but he did feel his heart leap to his throat at your words. 

“What’s up?” He asked hoping you didn’t catch as the sentence wavered slightly. 

You bit your lip glancing down at your feet before looking up to meet his gaze. “I wanted to thank you.” 

That is not what he expected you to ask. 

“I can’t even begin to say how relieved I am that you took Sirius in. Please thank your parents for me as well.” You seemed almost nervous, “I actually have something for you.” 

James could not believe that the words you were saying were actually coming out of your mouth. He had expected you to cuss at him, call him a blood traitor amongst other names and then follow your friends into the hall. But you were thanking him instead. 

You rummaged in your bag before removing a red box about the size of a wide bookmark. You held it out to the boy. 

James stared at you half expecting you to break out laughing and reveal the joke. 

“Stop looking at me like that.” You mumbled shoving the gift at his chest. 

“Sorry.” James murmured opening the box eyes widening. Inside was a watch, a damn nice one. It looked to be at least plated with gold, if not solid. Its inside was a scarlet red with three different faces, one of which instead of showing roman numerals around the edge showed the phases of the moon. The strap was a reddish leather, clasp gold as well. 

“Here, watch this.” You spoke stepping closer and carefully removing the watch from its velvet cushion. You held it delicately, pressing an almost invisible button on the side. In a flash two delicate golden wings erupted from the sides of the device and James realized in fascination that the watch now appeared to look like a snitch, you paid no mind flipping it over to reveal a small square gap on the back. “It’s enchanted with an undetectable extension charm so you can put just about anything in it.” You explained clicking the small button again. 

James watched in marvel as the wings fluttered closed closing the gap seamlessly.  “This is amazing y/n,” He whispered looking up at you only to realize you were centimeters away. He could feel your breath fan over his cheeks. It was cold and minty.  

“It’s nothing compared to what you’ve done for me.” You reasoned sliding the watch back into its case and stepping backward. “And before you say you can’t accept it remember that I have plenty of money.” 

Those were going to be the next words out of his mouth. 

“I have one more thing to ask you, James.” You seemed really nervous now, you hoisted the strap of your bag back up over your shoulder. “How’s Sirius? Is he okay?” 

You had baffled him once again. 

“I know I should be asking him that but ever since last year he would sooner light me on fire than have a civil conversation with me.” You sighed.

The Chaser stared at you, this is not how he thought your conversation would go.

“So is he okay?” You asked again, almost urgently. 

“Yeah, he’s fine.” James assured you, “He’s a little moody but overall he’s good.” 

“Have his panic attacks stopped?” You questioned.  

James who had no clue he even got those nodded, “I think so.” 

“Mental breakdowns?” 

James ran his hands through his hair, “He gets them every once and awhile, Moony and I help him through though.” 

You gave a weak smile and stepped forward wrapping your arms around his neck, placing your forehead on his chest. James froze, slowly letting his arms hold your waist, “I honestly can’t thank you enough. You’re a godsend Potter.” You mumbled. You stepped away a few seconds later crimson kissing your cheeks. “Don’t tell Siri we talked. He’ll be pissed.” And with that, you left. 

James felt his heart hammer as he sucked in the air he didn’t realize he had stopped breathing. What just happened?

James had had a crush on you the second you locked eyes centuries ago on platform 9 and ¾. You were the main reason he had looked so long for a certain compartment. A compartment that contained a set of twins, one of which would become his best friend. You had always been very pretty, your strong attitude had aided in that conclusion as well. He thought you were going to be very good friends with him. That was until you were sorted into Slytherin and Sirius soon revealed his rivalry with you.  

He had still harbored feelings for you, small ones he chose to ignore most of the time. He never told a soul, passing his feelings from girl to girl. He proved to be quite good at burying them. You also showed just how good you were at unearthing his secrets with a laugh, a wide smile or the save of a quaffle. The feeling of you in his arms rested in his mind for a long time. He dreamt of you, yearned to hold you again. You had smelt like caramel and cinnamon, you fit into his chest as a puzzle piece did to its neighbor. He really wished you hadn’t hugged him. 

As your sixteenth birthday approached both twins appeared to be more and more on edge. James was dead set on throwing a massive party but Sirius didn’t seem into it. As the day loomed closer he got jumpy, almost paranoid; as if someone was going to lean out from behind him and throw a bag over his head before dragging him away. 

James also began to notice your absences from classes. More and more often you were simply gone, not being anywhere for days before appearing out of nowhere. You always looked so pale when you got back from wherever you had gone, the circle under your eyes always looked darker. He had asked Sirius what was up but got nowhere, he would just lick his lips and say nothing was wrong. A blatant lie. 

You disappeared four days before the 3rd and was gone the entire week. Sirius refused to go to classes that week as well, claiming to be sick, which was fair considering he looked white as a ghost most of the time. 

When you finally returned it looked as if you had been kissed by a dementor. Your face was vacant of any color, your usually vibrant eyes looked pale, bags underneath them bruised brown. 

Both James and Sirius simultaneously tried to convince themselves you just had a stomach bug, that your sunken cheeks were nothing to be concerned about. Both knew they were wrong. 

Sirius found you easily. He knew you too well. You always snuck outside, even when you were younger you would always sneak to the park a few blocks away to escape your mother’s rage. Until you learned to play with fire rather than run from it.

He followed you to the greenhouse. You had always liked herbology. 

You turned at the shuffle of feet to see your brother, he looked almost as terrible as you did. 

“Did you do it?” He asked, his voice sounding so empty as muffled chirps of crickets flowed through the cold November air. 

You refused to look up, You sat in the corner of the cold glass house, your knees pulled to your chest, eyes cast on your dress shoes.  

“Did you really go through with it?” His voice cracked, he stumbled over his own feet. 

You still didn’t answer. Tears had built so thickly in your eyes you couldn’t see. You blinked and they went cascading downwards, raindrops leaking off your chin. 

“Answer me y/n!” Sirius cried through gritted teeth, tears of his own threatening to spill. 

“We have to get Regulus out of that house.” You spoke so plainly it was hard to believe that the words had come from you. “Fuck Siri they have a new initiation ceremony. He can’t go through with that.” 

“Shit y/n/n, what did you do?” His voice was a mix of disgust and despair.

“I don’t fucking know.” You answered honestly.

“Did you kill someone?” He hissed. 

“I wish I did Siri, I really wish I did.” 

Sirius dropped his shoulders a defeated sigh coming from his lips.

“We have to get him out soon Siri. He is so much more stubborn than you were too.” You whimpered. “I mean you practically disowned yourself, mom just needed a push with you.” 

“Why did you give her that push?” Sirius gasped, ��Why did you do that? I could have helped you.” 

“I saved you, Sirius.” Your sentence broke in half, “I know you hate me for it but I saved you.” 

Sirius wiped his eyes furiously, “How did you possibly save me y/n?” He seethed.

“What do you think mom would have done if you were still in that house four days ago?” You asked. You knew he already knew the answer. 

“Why the fuck didn’t you save yourself?” Sirius hollered, “Why did you follow every rule she set? Every fucking order she gave you?” 

“The Black family needed an heir.” You shrugged tongue darting out to collect a tear from the corner of your mouth. “I knew it had to be one of us, if not you or me then Reg.” you paused, “So I decided it would be me.” 

    “How? How could you possibly decide that?” Sirius sobbed now standing in front of you. You still didn’t look up. 

“It was easier than you would think.” You chuckled darkly.

“It’s not fair y/n.” He stated, “We can still help you. Dumbledore will help, you can stay with James and me. Please y/n.” 

“It’s too late and you know it.” You spoke, “Best not to cry over spilled milk.” 

“But your life isn’t spilled milk!” Sirius shouted. 

“Might as well be.” You shrugged finally meeting your brother’s eyes. They matched your own, puffy and red. 

“How can you say that?” The boy spat, “It’s your fucking life!”

“Not anymore.” You sighed. “Look, Siri, in all honesty, I don’t give two fucks about my life right now, we have less than 13 months to find a way to get Regulus the fuck out of that house and then boom he turns 16 and none of this shit matters anymore. So stop worrying about me and start realizing we can still save him.” 

Sirius had never felt so incredibly selfish before. You had given away your life for him and for Regulus. What had he given away? He had gotten the life he wanted while you would suffer for the rest of yours. And all you said was ‘It’s best not to cry over spilled milk.’ He suddenly remembered every jibe and comment he had said to you. You had done nothing but bite your tongue as he taunted the nightmare you lived him so he could bask in a daydream. 

“I need you to start hanging out with him.” You mumbled, voice raw, “I have been avoiding him, hopefully, it will help. I’m gonna start making up lies about how his grades are slipping and he’s hanging out with mudbloods, maybe dating one.” You sighed, “Reg still wants to impress mom, I need you to get it into his mind how twisted she is. Make him hate her. Make him hate me too, use me as an example.” You paused, “Can you do that Siri?” 

Sirius didn’t speak for a long time. You didn’t pressure him to. You stared straight ahead tears still leaking from your eyes. 

“Yeah, I can do that.” Sirius finally spoke. He sounded half-dead, deflated. He sounded like you. 

“Good.” You didn’t waste a second. You got to your feet wiping your tears and then you walked away.  

James sprinted down the halls. He has his eyes peeled to the two names in the greenhouse. He made it free of the castle and saw a figure making their way towards him. He glanced down at the map and saw that it was you.  

As he neared you he was finally able to drink in your appearance. Your eyes were bloodshot, you were attempting to dry never-ending teardrops, dragging your forearm repeatedly over your face. When you looked up at him his heart broke. Your bottom lip was shaking eyes so glassy it must have stung. 

You dove into his chest, wrapping your arms around him and you began to cry. Your body jumped with sobs as James pulled you closer to him. 

He forgot about everything but you as you nuzzled closer to him. He forgot about Sirius, about the tears soaking through his shirt and the dew that had dampened his robes. He only cared about you. You and the fact that you still smelt like caramel and cinnamon, you and your overly soft hair, you and your cold hands wrapped around him.

James nestled into your hair inhaling its intoxicating scent. He then hooked his hands under your arms and lifted you so your hands were wrapped around his neck. You understood and wrapped your legs around his waist your head becoming buried into his neck. He placed one hand under each of your thighs and began to carry you inside. As you made your way through the castle your tears began to slow, sobs turning to whimpers.

James felt his face bloom with deep red roses. His heart was thumping far too quickly. When he reached his destination he only had to pace twice before the door showed its self. The inside of the room was relatively the same as it always was except for the large brick fireplace and massive couch filled with large pillows. 

The Chaser attempted to set you down on the couch but your firm grip on his neck and the legs wrapped around him forced him to follow downwards. A fresh blush coated his cheeks. You burrowed back into his embrace and it was quiet for a long time. The only noise coming from the crack of the fireplace and the sound of a faint wind blowing outside.  

“Y/n what happened?” James finally asked and you pulled a bit away from him so you could look him in his eyes. 

He looked so handsome, his deep chocolate brown eyes were wide with worry, only more magnified behind his round glasses. His cheeks were painted with poppies, his lips plush, and pink. His unruly thickly curled hair framed his face perfectly, a small strand falling between his eyes. 

“You know I always had a thing for you.” You smiled weakly, “From the moment I saw you on the platform I thought you were the cutest thing I had ever laid eyes on.” 

James wasn’t quite sure how to respond, he assumed he was dreaming. 

“I never wanted to tell you, James, I never thought I would. But I need to.” 

The room fell quiet again. 

“Can I kiss you y/n?” James finally asked his heart near shattering. 

You nodded slowly and he let his eyes flutter shut, yours doing the same as your lips gently met. The kiss was so fragile you were afraid it may break. He tasted like pumpkin juice, his tongue slipping into your mouth seconds before you pulled away. 

“Y/n let me help you.” James pleaded as you swung your feet off of the couch, sitting upright as you mumbled ‘I shouldn’t have done that.’ quietly to yourself. 

“Just.. take care of Siri for me.” You could feel tears beginning to climb back upwards. 

James sat up beside you, “Y/n please.” He begged. 

“It’s okay James.” You assured him with a watery smile. “You’ll get over it.” 

“But y/n-” 

You shushed him placing your pointer finger on his lips. He blinked a small tear falling down his flushed cheek. You wiped it away with your thumb. 

“You’ll be okay James.” You paused standing swiftly, “Best not to cry over spilled milk.” You murmured over your shoulder as you left the room. 

Taglist:

@accio-rogers

@roslea

@k3nz-doodl3

@theseuscmander

@sleepingalaska

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