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talesofesther · 10 months

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the one who stayed

Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Summary: For a moment, Sebastian thought he lost you, and now the guilt for what happened is eating away at him.

A/N: Yes, this is very random. I debated a lot on whether to even post this here or not, but, this Tumblr is, before anything else, a library for me to store my own works. I post everything I write here, so I figured this one shouldn't be the exception because I did like how it turned out.

Masterlist

Cold. That was all your brain could register at the moment; how the ground felt so cold underneath you.

"She's not moving."

You could hear a familiar, urgent voice right beside you. But as the seconds slowly trickled by like blood dripping from an open wound, it became increasingly hard for you to understand what exactly that voice was saying. Yet you could still register the fear laced within the tone, you could feel it in the shakiness of his hold.

Trembling hands held onto your arm, one of them slowly brushing against your skin until it found your hand.

You wished you could see his face right now. Sebastian had always been bold, confident. Though you were almost certain there would be a faint blush hidden under his freckles right now because of the intimate gesture.

But your eyes were heavy. Try as you might, you couldn't seem to blink them open. Come to think of it, your whole body felt heavy, maybe that's why you couldn't move. Even breathing was slowly turning into too much effort.

The hand holding onto your own tightened its grip.

People were talking around you. You couldn't make out any words anymore, they sounded like nothing but faint noise. The tune of his voice still kissed your ears, however; even if you couldn't recognize the words, you knew it was him. And he sounded erratic, scared. There was a tightness to it, syllables getting stuck in his throat; it was all wrong, you didn't like to hear him in this state.

A deeper voice was there too — you instantly recognized the timbre that belonged to the man who was always crushing Sebastian's hopes — and in the back of your mind, it brought anger to your chest. But there was nothing you could do anymore. Wisps of remaining magic tingled on the tip of your fingers and held your heart in a tight, hurtful grip. Maybe you'd gone too far.

A pair of rough hands then picked up your body, taking you away from the cold embrace of the catacomb's floor.

And when the blood dripping from your nose reached your lips, coating your tongue with a metallic taste, you realized that maybe you did go too far after all. Part of you could already hear the keepers berating you for rushing your abilities.

Consciousness slipped from your grasp shortly after that. Your head falling limp against someone's shoulder, and feeling a hand still holding onto yours.

—

Hogwarts' hospital wing was pretty quiet most days, only with the usual first year who scraped their elbow falling from a broom or suffering the effects of a spell gone slightly wrong. They never stayed for long though, nurse Blainey was all too used to these types of encounters.

Yet every now and then, one of the beds stays occupied for a longer period of time.

There were several beds — their metal frame and pale sheets doing little to ease the hospital vibe — one beside the other on each side of the spacious room.

You were glad to be put on one which stayed further away from the main doors; it made for more calmness this way. You had no need to engage with the unfortunate first years and could focus on leaning back and feeling the soft wisps of sunlight kissing your skin from the high window behind you.

It bothers you that you can't exactly remember how you got here. The nurse hadn't filled you with much information either; she told you an older man had brought you in, talking about a casting exercise gone wrong and you overworking yourself; she also said you remained unconscious for about 15 hours before finally waking up — pale, weak, confused.

Most of those feelings still crawled under your skin. Your body is still feeling 10 times heavier than it actually was. You wanted to get up and run off to find Sebastian but you had a nagging sensation that, if you did so now, you'd fall face-first on the floor.

The fabric of the thin blanket draped over you felt soft as you worried it between your fingers, nearly tearing it apart. The last thing you remembered was being in the catacombs, with Sebastian, and wanting to do nothing but protect him — both from himself and his uncle.

His uncle.

Could it be that he was the one who actually brought you back to school?

You doubted Sebastian would have the strength to carry you all the way back here — as much as he might fight you on that argument.

Running a hand through your hair, you pulled at the roots. Your frustration escaped with a long sigh.

The old floorboards creaked under a new weight. At first, you assumed it would be nurse Blainey coming back to check on you. But, from the side of your eye, you caught a glimpse of green, and your heart fought against your ribs, trying to escape your chest.

Sebastian stood a few feet away from your bed, though you could hardly recognize him. The brown locks of his hair were all over the place, way messier than usual; his eyes had a red tint to them, mixed with dark circles of someone who hasn't slept in a while; his usual grin was nowhere to be seen, instead replaced with a pained frown; his hands held onto his robes with a death grip.

"I heard you were awake."

His voice didn't sound like the one you had grown to love.

"How are you feeling?" The question stumbled past his lips and he avoided your eyes shortly after. He sounded as if you would yell at him to leave at any moment. It only got you more confused.

"Better, a little weak still," you bit at the inside of your cheek. This moment shouldn't feel as fragile as it does. "Care to tell me what happened?"

You didn't think your tone was harsh, but Sebastian flinched at your voice anyway. Bad memories washed over him like a bucket of icy water.

He met your gaze before hesitantly closing the distance between you, choosing to sit at the edge of your bed.

He looked worse up close. Eyes distant, trapped elsewhere.

"We were fighting against my uncle and the-" Sebastian gulped, guilt squeezing at his throat like barbed wire, "the inferi."

You acknowledged his words with a soft nod, slowly remembering things as he spoke. You pushed yourself up to sit straighter, just a couple of inches closer to Sebastian. He looked like he needed it.

The words lingered on his tongue. You never thought you'd see him this way; hesitant, lost, regretful. With tears on the verge of spilling over his freckled cheeks.

"You were trying to reason with my uncle; and me, for that matter," Sebastian chuckled halfheartedly, "trying to stop us from killing each other, when the inferi started to close on us. You didn't think twice, and all I saw were lighting strikes coming through the ceiling of the catacomb, destroying everything but us, and… you laying on the floor afterwards."

Memories were clearer now. Sebastian had attacked his uncle after he destroyed the relic and they started exchanging spells at each other while the inferi slipped from Sebastian's control. Everything could go very bad, very quickly. You remembered trying to speak with them, make them see past the anger clouding their judgment. But it was to no avail. What you remember the most, however, was seeing Sebastian so focused on his uncle, and unaware of the mass of inferi coming towards him.

You really hadn't thought twice at all. Ancient magic flowed through your veins like wildfire; it was all you could feel. The rumbling of thunder became your heartbeat. You killed each and every one of the creatures, burning out all of your energy in the process.

"And what of Solomon?" You found yourself wondering.

Sebastian pursed his lips. His eyebrows scrunched slightly as his body tensed for a moment and then relaxed again. "We stopped fighting as soon as I ran up to you. I- I begged that he'd help me bring you back to school. I'm not sure where he is now." His body shook with each intake of air. "Or Anne."

"Well, guess my plan worked after all. At least I got you to stop fighting," you tried to lighten the heavy air around you and Sebastian, mustering a teasing grin as you tilted your head to try and catch a glimpse of his eyes.

Sebastian worried his lower lip between his teeth to keep it from quivering. There was no witty remark, no ironic comment. Nothing. His tears were one blink away from spilling over.

Maybe if you listened closely, you'd be able to hear your heart shattering. For him. For this broken boy barely holding the last pieces of himself together in front of you, for this boy who stood so desperately alone in the world.

You reached out, your hand closing tightly around Sebastian's — because you couldn't bare seeing him alone one second more. Your thumb brushed against his skin. You could feel his trembling. "We'll find him, and Anne. I promise we'll figure things out, Sebastian."

He was shaking his head before you even finished speaking, squeezing his eyes shut and causing a single tear to roll down his cheek. "No, you don't understand," his broken words fell from his lips at the same time he pulled away from your touch.

"I never-" Sebastian stood up then, choking on his own breathing as he looked at you with a mix of longing and anguish. "It was never my intention to hurt you… I'm sorry," he whispered, so quietly that if the hospital wing wasn't as empty as it is, you would've missed it.

"Sebastian, you didn't-" you cut yourself off when he abruptly turned away from you and started marching towards the main doors of the spacious room, putting as much distance between you and him as he could.

The fatigue still gripping at your muscles was the last thing on your mind when you threw away the covers and stood — albeit on shaky legs — to go after him. "Sebastian, please wait," you called, grimacing as he took your heart with him.

Ultimately, you didn't go very far. Nurse Blainey stopped you in your tracks before you could even reach the middle of the room.

—

The sun rays shining through the tall stained glass windows were warm against your skin, doing little to help with your current sleepy state as you tried to at least pretend to be paying attention to class.

"It's been nearly a week, Ominis." You groaned, folding your arms on top of the table so you could lay your head down, "do you think he's mad at me for trying to stop him?"

The boy sitting beside you chuckled quietly, twirling his wand in his hands. "Darling, I don't think Sebastian could be mad at you even if he wanted to."

Before you could ask what he meant by that, Professor Binns walked by a little too close for comfort; his ghostly form sending a shiver down your body.

"He's been spending most of his evenings hiding away in the Undercroft," Ominis felt around on the table until his fingers brushed the fabric of your robes, he gently closed his hand around your wrist and squeezed comfortingly. "I believe it would do both of you some good if you went to see him."

—

It was mostly dark out already. The sky slowly filled with stars as night settled in and a soft cold breeze hung around the DADA hallways. The pristine floors reflected the image of your shoes, pacing back and forth restlessly.

You were having second thoughts. Apprehension tugged at your heartstrings because as much as you didn't want to admit it, the sight of Sebastian walking away from you so desperately that day had stung.

Though no matter how much you stalled, you knew you'd relent. The sleepless nights you've been going through lately are enough of a telltale of the effect Sebastian has on you.

A deep breath filled your lungs and you closed your eyes, pleading for your heartbeat to settle as you pushed open the door to the Undercroft.

The familiar warmth hugged you instantly. All of the candlelights dimly shining against the stone walls forced away the frown that clung to your brows. You'd never blamed Ominis for being so protective of this place, it really was the perfect hideaway.

You found Sebastian pretty quickly. He sat on the floor against the far wall to your right, knees tucked close to his chest as his wand moved delicately, making a paper bird flap its wings and fly around in front of him. The bird fell limply to the floor when Sebastian's eyes landed on you, however. You thought you saw him gulp and straighten his back too, but other than that, the Slytherin boy expressed no other reaction upon seeing you. It felt almost as if he was expecting your arrival.

Your feet were momentarily frozen to the stone floor, Sebastian's gaze burning through your soul. You also couldn't help but notice how lonely he looked, just sitting there by himself; it made your stomach turn unpleasantly. You wondered if he considered himself deserving of it.

It was as if you spoke with your eyes for a beat. You saying that if he wanted you to leave, you would. And Sebastian pleading for you to stay.

All that could be heard were your steps echoing through the Undercroft as you carefully came to sit beside him. Your shoulder just shy of touching his.

The silence wasn't a comfortable one, but it also wasn't awkward. It was just heavy. There was a tension in the air that none of you knew how to address.

Sebastian's knuckles were white around his wand, he sat stiff beside you, not once glancing your way.

You figured that if you didn't speak, you'd be sitting in silence for hours. You glanced down at the paper bird that lay discarded on the floor, your lips quirking up just slightly as you picked it up; "you know, my mother taught me how to make these when I was younger. Without magic, that is." You chuckled. You rarely spoke about your parents, it was a sensitive topic. But it was your way of trying to make Sebastian feel more comfortable to share what he was feeling with you; what was bothering him.

"I used to get rather frustrated when I couldn't get it right the first times," you gently inspected the small bird with your fingers, thumbs running along the smooth white paper, "but she'd always tell me to take a breath, count to five, and start again."

With your eyes fixed on the paper bird in your hands, you didn't notice Sebastian's eyes fixed on your profile. The grip on his wand loosened slightly as he committed every detail of you to memory.

A shiver ran down your back when you finally turned your head to face him again. He was close, your breaths mingling as the lines of your relationship blurred and burned with the candles.

"Sebastian…" You breathed, watching the way his eyes darted to your lips and back to your eyes, "about what happened at the catacombs, I'm-"

"Don't you dare say you're sorry." He cut you off suddenly, voice quiet and a little choked, but firm.

"I am, though," you leaned your head back against the stone wall, involuntarily leaning closer to him as your body gravitated to his warmth. "I'm sorry things didn't go as planned, but I promise we're not gonna stop looking for anything else that might help Anne."

Sebastian averted his gaze from you, furrowing his brows. You saw tears steadily collecting on the bottom lid of his eyes, despite his efforts to hide them. "Stop it," he mumbled.

You shifted in your seat, your jaw set tightly in place. The beats of your heart against your chest were painful. The thought of Sebastian distancing himself from you was painful. So much so that you fear you'd be willing to do anything to fix it, within reason or not.

"I mean it, Sebastian, I will do anything-"

"Stop it! You don't get it, do you?" He snapped, his eyes burning into yours again and shining under the candlelights. "I saw you laying on the floor of that damned catacomb and I thought you were dead!" The syllables broke and stuttered past his lips, the pain and fear he felt that day came back in waves and twisted his expression.

You were stunned to silence, watching as Sebastian opened his mouth, lower lip trembling as he searched for his voice again.

"Do you have any idea of what that felt like?" He whispered, words strangled and squeezing his chest until he had trouble breathing. You were nothing but a blur in front of him. Sebastian pursed his lips to try and keep himself from breaking. Speaking it out loud somehow felt like making it real. "I thought I'd just lost you, and… and it would be my fault."

The feeling of your gentle thumb carefully brushing against his cheek brought Sebastian back to reality, and he realized his tears were already dripping down his chin.

"I would never blame you for what happened," you shook your head, smiling sadly as you felt your own eyes sting, "you were just trying to help your sister, when everyone else had given up."

"I will cure Anne… but not at the expense of you," in some ways, he looked surprised at his own words; at the truthfulness of them. He gulped back a sob, "I thought I could control it," Sebastian breathed in sharply, avoiding your gaze but leaning into your touch, "I went too far, as Ominis has probably told you a thousand times already."

You chuckled softly, sneaking your fingers over his jaw and until they disappeared between the brown locks of his hair. Sebastian closed his eyes briefly at your comforting touch, allowing himself to melt against you. "He's more understanding than you give him credit for," you smiled.

That got half a smile out of Sebastian, his freckles highlighted by the candles around you. His hand inched closer to your free one resting on your lap, the tip of his fingers timidly closing around yours, craving more of you. His pupils were blown wide when he finally looked up at you again.

"I promise to never do anything this reckless again." His low tone left no room for doubt.

You leaned in slightly, feeling his fringe tickle your forehead. You thought you heard him trying to suppress a gasp, but maybe it was your foggy mind playing tricks on you.

There was a glint in his eyes you'd never seen before, still shining with remains of his emotions; but vulnerable, calm, loving.

"I am quite fond of your reckless side, though."

Your unexpected words brought an endearing blush across Sebastian's freckles. You felt the shape of his teasing grin when his lips touched yours.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment if you want. <3

Sebastian’s taglist: @milkiane @v1ci0us

#sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow imagine #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x f!reader #sebastian sallow x f!mc #hogwarts legacy x reader #imagine #fanfic #angst #fluff #sebastian sallow fanfiction #my story

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mactavsh · 1 year

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Watching Over

Synopsis: Price tries to keep you awake while captured.

Relationships: Father Figure!Captain John Price x Female Reader, John “Soap” MacTavish x Female Reader

Word Count: 1.5K

Warnings: violence, swearing, mentions of blood/injuries

Note: Debated posting this one because it is quite self serving, but maybe someone else needs their fictional father figure to tell them they're proud of them too. The title was inspired from this song.

Masterlist

If it was an Intel mission that required a certain level of finesse, Laswell always knew who to send. You and Captain Price worked seamlessly after the many years of training he'd given you. He scouted you early on in your career quickly becoming a mentor in your eyes. He had also easily fallen into a paternal role, unbeknownst to him.

However, Laswell knew how Price had a habit of adopting kids. As a joke, she kept a running list of his “next of kin”. It started with you and has grown over the years to include Gaz, Soap and Ghost.

The mission required the two of you to go completely dark, Laswell was sending you to Mexico at the behest of Alejandro. You would both have to be in zero contact until the mission was complete. You both understood the gravity of the situation - there would be no backup.

You were given a month to track down an emerging cartel that was responsible for a rise in weapons trading. Los Vaqueros couldn’t yet make a move against them so Alejandro reached out to Laswell and Price for assistance.

When you landed in Mexico you had a brief meeting with Alejandro and Rodolfo to learn what they knew. After that you and Captain Price set out to see what you could find. By then end of your first week you had figured out the names of the higher ups and the locations of a few meeting spots.

However, when you had gone to infiltrate the meeting, there were more men than expected. The two of you certainly made quite a dent in their numbers but were eventually overpowered. You had been knocked out by someone who snuck up behind you. Price heard you fall and was distracted just long enough for someone to sneak up behind him, subsequently knocking him out next.

When you woke up you were both chained to metal chairs. You were situated on opposite sides of the room but facing each other. The cold metal dug painfully into your ribs with every breath. There were no windows, no way to tell how long you had been there.

Hours blurred into days then weeks. The daily torture had worn the both of you down. They gave you just enough food to keep you alive and looking at how Price’s features had grown sunken in you assumed yours had as well.

They had learned early on the dynamic between you two as much as you both tried to remain stoic, so they focused their torture on you hoping it would get Price to talk. What they didn't realize was that both Price and you would sooner die than tell them anything.

You were sure the check-in date Laswell had set had long since passed and you could only imagine the hell Soap, the 141, and Los Vaqueros were raising trying to find out what happened.

Your captors had just left after another bout of torture trying to get information out of both of you. Bruises began blooming on Price’s bare chest, emerging blue and red tones mixed with already yellow spots. Your arms sported new deep gashes atop barely healed scar tissue. Blood slowly trickled down your arms as your chest heaved. Your mind was dizzy from the pain and it was taking everything in you to stay awake.

“Stay with me, kid.” Price spoke from the other side of the room voice even and calm as it always was.

“I refuse to die at the hands of some random fuckin’ cartel member.” Your voice was firm despite the exhaustion you felt.

“That's my girl.” Price's chest swelled with pride that turned to worry as your head lolled downward. “Tell me about why you joined.”

You groaned and slowly brought your head back up to squint over at him. “Haven't I already?”

“You like to call me an old man.” He smirked, ”I forgot, tell me again.”

You huffed, if your brain wasn’t so foggy you would have immediately realized it was a tactic to keep you awake. “My dad served, his dad served, felt like I had to keep the legacy going. My grandfather also said I’d never outrank him so I had to prove him wrong.”

“That why you’re my youngest Staff Sergeant?”

“You bet your ass it is.”

Price forced out a laugh. “Out of spite, eh?“

“It’s how I do most things.”

“He still around? Your grandfather?”

“Passed a year or so after I was promoted.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

You shrugged as best you could with the chains restricting your movement. “He lived a long happy life.” Price didn’t press further about your family, he knew your parents were also passed and you didn’t have any siblings. The 141 had become your found family and he was happy that you were no longer alone.

“You remember the day we met?” Price pressed, trying to keep you awake.

“Yeah,” You breathed out, exhaustion dancing in the corner of your eyes. “you called me a muppet.”

Price smiled recalling the day. “You looked bloody ridiculous under all that gear. Five feet tall wearing gear in Ghost’s size.”

“My CO did it on purpose when we got word you were coming to scout recruits for some secret spy shit. He wanted his golden boy to be picked.”

“Bastard's plan failed. When I saw you running the course like that I knew you were the best for the job.”

You looked down at your feet, you weren’t sure you could ever put into words how thankful you were for all he's done for you. “Thank you, for choosing me. You pulled me out of a dark place that day though I didn't see it at the time.”

“You’ve got nothing to thank me for. Hell, you’ve saved my life more times than I can count. I’m proud of you, Y/n. You’re a whole lot more than you give yourself credit for.”

You weren’t sure if it was the praise or the blood loss but tears began to well in your eyes and you were powerless to stop them.

“When we get out of here we are going on leave.” The Captain’s voice was firm, an unofficial order.

“That so? Don’t think my husband would let me go on holiday with another man.” You joked half-heartedly, the day you told Price you were officially dating Soap he had called the sergeant into his office. An hour passed before you saw either of them again and for a week after that Soap could barely make eye contact with the captain. When you and Soap had gotten married it was Price who walked you down the aisle.

Price rolled his eyes. “All of us. Been too long since we had a day we weren’t fighting for our lives.”

“Would be nice.”

“Thinkin' a lakeside cabin deep in the woods. I’m going to teach everyone how to fish-” Just then the sounds of distant explosions rocked the room you were in. Concrete dust fell into your lap and you stared at it for a moment.

“I hope that's our favorite demolitions expert.” You spoke as you looked back up at Price.

“Wonder how they found this shithole.”

“Alejandro?” You proposed as another explosion sounded, this time closer.

“Maybe. These idiots probably got cocky and sent some bloody ridiculous ransom note to Los Vaqueros.”

The sound of gunshots grew near, gradually getting louder until they stopped altogether. Price looked at you then you both looked at the door. What felt like an eternity passed until the door was broken open. A familiar masked face entered, gun at the ready until his eyes settled on the room’s occupants.

“Bloody hell,” Ghost said as he dropped his weapon and pressed the button on his communication device. “I’ve got Price and Y/n. Second-floor northwest corner.” He grabbed the bolt cutters off his back and moved towards you, quickly snapping the chains that were holding you in place. He put a hand on your shoulder and you grabbed his forearm, both gently squeezing the other before letting go, a silent reassurance. He then stood and moved toward Price to free him.

You stayed seated and rubbed your wrists, you knew if you stood now the blood loss would likely make you pass out. The sounds of footsteps in the hallway made your body tense before Soap’s frantic form stepped through the doorway.

“Thank fuckin’ Christ.” Soap spoke as he ran toward you. He kneeled in front of you, gently placing his gloved hands on either side of your face. He rubbed his thumb along your cheek, careful of the small cut there. “You alright, love?”

You stared into his eyes for a moment, basking in the blueness that had come to feel like home. A tired smile crossed your face as you leaned into the gentle touch. “Better now.”

Soap smiled back and you and then slowly helped you stand. He kept a gentle hold on your arm as you regained your equilibrium. After you were sure you weren't going to pass out you walked over to Price, immediately wrapping your arms around him.

“We made it, old man.” You spoke into his chest.

Price placed his chin on your head and gently rubbed his hand along your back. “Knew we would, kiddo.”

Bonus:

“Should I be jealous?” Soap whispered jokingly to Ghost as they watched the exchange.

“Shut the fuck up, Soap.” Ghost rolled his eyes before swatting the back of Soap’s mohawk.

#captain john price #john price #captain john price x reader #john price x reader #john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader #soap mactavish #soap mactavish x reader #mactavsh

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waxingrunes · 7 months

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I’m seeing too much of this across all channels and I need to write a little something on my humble blog with my humble amount of followers, because how else am I going to get this off my chest.

Some of you need to remember that this whole world we created is pure, fiction. It’s based off fiction and we are building off fiction, forking off in different directions with characters we love.

The canon vs fanon debate is ongoing and quite honestly, mind numbingly pointless and you all consistently contradict and overlap one another with whatever discourse you’re riding that week. You lot wanna argue a point by saying, “these are my hc’s and I can do what I like with them stop taking everything so seriously teeheehehehe” then uno reverse that the next minute by screaming, “that would never happen *insert name* is this or is that” but fuck canon right? Fuck JKR? Or is it more, fuck the parts of canon I don’t like and I’ll take the parts I do so I can shove them down the throats of creators who represent these characters in an opposing light. The amount of posts I’ve seen floating around these sites that are people preaching to their audiences about how dumb they are (unless it’s meant to be satire, I’m not a brainless sensitive lump with no humour bone) for liking certain things, or enjoying certain things, or preferring certain aspects in a character is astounding. Take pause before jumping on your high horse over a fictional character and shaming people for moulding them into what they enjoy. Is this not the beauty of fiction, imagination; the ability to twist and turn over different traits and appearances within our palms and make them into our own little dress up dolls?

Here’s my two cents as a WOLFSTAR artist, not a Marauders— if I want to make Sirius into a teacup and Remus into a sea slug and have him curl up to sleep every night in his bowl, then I’ll do that with fine china detail. If I want to make Sirius someone who refuses to wear nothing but a specific shade of tangerine and Velcro strapped trainers, I will. One day I might throw Moony into a boxing ring and have him be a middleweight champion, stained by the blood of his opponent whilst his wolf is chomping at the bit to come out just before the full moon threatens to take centre stage. If I want to make Sirius 6ft tall and Remus 5ft1, I will. Why not draw an AU of them as the rocks from Everything, Everywhere All At Once? Maybe, they can be something as simple as a boy and a boy who look the way you want them to look, fuck the way you want them to fuck and fall in love and fight, and scream, and cry, and make up a million different ways.

Let’s get more specific as the seal’s broken. Why not make Remus plus sized and give him a beard or a dad’s bod at age 23. Or maybe because he’s lighter haired he doesn’t have dark hair like that and only has a smattering of it across the ugliest of his scars. Consider this— moony with softer hips but fuller sturdy shoulders. Or long, slender limbs with a deceptively hidden strength owing to his wolf, stronger than James though he doesn’t look it. Onto Sirius, try to tell me I’m not going to put him in thigh highs and fem the shit out of him whilst he holds a bat in one hand covered in the blood of someone who tried to disrespect his Moons. Alert the press when someone erases every single one of his tattoos only to replace them with hyperpigmentation. What about giving him a beater’s build and a long thick trail of naval hair that he likes to call his ‘seeker’s delight’. What about a hairless Sirius who has a soft life and likes to make herself pretty for her 6ft 4 boyfriend every weekend when he gets on the train to visit.

How about, I stick with my personal holy take on the boys and present you with a harmless middle ground where Moony is whatever the fuck I want him to be physically, emotionally, or characteristically but always a wet fucking cloth for Sirius. A grape, under a thumb, you could say. And a Sirius, who is too whatever I want him to be physically, emotionally, or characteristically but will always be Moony’s biggest cheerleader.

Stay with me whilst I offer you the brain stretching, risky, taboo thought for you to ponder on: stop trying to please people. Stop absorbing all these takes that pressure you into thinking you’ve got to include every fucking thing that shaves you down and boxes you into their squeaky clean little creator! Indulge in what you like. Make it public, make it known and make it as loud as you want. Feels good on this side of freedom.

Lastly, quick (none of this has been quick) circle back to myself being a Wolfstar artist, not a Marauders one. I will not be shamed into drawing the women in this fandom, I will not try to even out my art with equal parts women and men, in fear of being called misogynistic. I came here for Wolfstar and I stay for them; I get 95% of my muse from them and enjoy drawing these idiots nearly every single day when I can. I’ve a busy life, a job, the luxury of a family that love me and a couple friends I’d like to keep too. If and when I draw, it’s going to be what I want to draw and want to indulge in, not to check off your boxes of inclusion. I am not going to defend my choice of indulgence to you. I am not going to refute women or wlw ships and in fact, eat up stories or art where they’re prominent. Will I have muse or will to do a piece on them? Probably not. If I do, I will and if it’s not done to a standard deemed appropriate enough by the council, well shit I hope I get an honourable mention in one of your hate threads on Twitter.

Grow up. I am the type of person who has a more or less rigid taste on these boys and what I, enjoy representing them like and you runts will run your throats hoarse before I turn an ear. I am not the type of person to see someone who doesn’t like what I prefer and start slamming my keyboard and slap them with a red card. I’ll move on but appreciate the take in silence. Some of you really, come across like you’re stomping your feet in a tantrum, some of you sound like you’ve never been told to shut the fuck up a day in your life and some of you, some of you, really think you’re a messiah.

Fuck your canons, fanons and righteous attitudes towards people who are quite literally, not real. You are not a deity of the Marauders, you are a fucking loser offline just like the rest of us.

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whore-for-chris-evans · 1 month

Text

I lack the wisdom required to write this fic, but I hope someone skilled enough takes the initiative to.

Have any of you ever thought about Steve Rogers waking up from the ice and not going back to fighting?

He wakes up, Fury tells him he needs him, and Steve makes a choice for himself and says no, at least for now. Fury respects that choice, Steve gets a therapist (a good one, not Dr. Christina Passive-Aggressive Raynor) and uses his second chance in life to do the things he actually wanted to. Art. History. Maybe he goes to college again.

On top of all this, he figures out the internet (come on, he's a smart man. He's not gonna be clueless forever) and you know golden boy Steve would jump at the chance of using social media for a good cause.

And I also think Steve would be great at debates. The fucker (affectionate) has a way with words. He's also a nerd. He's well informed and has quick thinking skills. He gets into online fights a lot. Tweets and retweets a hell lot.

Gets Tumblr. (Steve would love tumblr don't lie to me) Reblogs things like it's his last day on earth. (But somehow makes sure to utilise the tag feature perfectly so everything is organised).

Some dudebro makes a misogynistic comment and he's there to verbally drop kick Dudebro into the next week.

Somebody makes an offhand comment regarding something historical and Steve gets his trusty motorcycle and drives his star spangled fine ass to the library and the next day there's a video circulating the internet of him citing sources (down the page number, paragraph number and line number) to prove why the offhand comment was grossly incorrect.

Someone angrily reposts his tweet saying "THAT IS NOT THE AMERICA OF MY DREAMS TALKING" and Steve proceeds to respond with "I'm a person. I can't be a country. What I can try to be is a good human being." and then absolutely demolishes the other person. (Yes to Steve reclaiming himself as Steve Rogers and not Captain America)

He also posts art. Like, everyday. But it gets slightly overshadowed by everything else he does and says.

He has a separate Instagram. For more personal stuff. Pictures of himself? Rarely. Pictures of birds and animals and trees and sunrises and sunsets? Absolutely. Pictures of the cat and the dog he rescued and now is a proud dad to? Everyday. (He's definitely a both person.) Maybe someday he'll step out of his comfort zone and start going live. Everyone loves him. Everyone rational, that is.

He stays away from tiktok.

2014. Fury shows up at his apartment and gets shot. Something stirs in Steve's brain as the masked assassin catches his shield. Those eyes seem familiar. Despite his reservations, he jumps back into the fray. The whole CATWS thing happens.

He finds Bucky. Brings him home. Fights tooth and nail for the charges against him to be dropped. He's got 70 years of military back-pay, he's got no problem getting the best lawyers (Matt Murdock is definitely among them) for the love of his life.

Anyways Bucky is set free. Moves in with Steve. People start gushing over him too. He stays out of Steve's internet life at first, but then the old Bucky comes back little by little. Maybe he'll join the livestreams. Maybe he'll make an Instagram of his own to post more of Steve.

People, being people, start shipping them. The two of them have a good laugh over it.

One day, out of nowhere, Steve shows up on one of his livestreams wearing a wedding ring. Comments go crazy. Bucky joins him on the couch, throws an arm around his shoulder, flashing his own matching band, smirking lazily.

The rest is mayhem. But they don't care. For Steve, life is perfect.

[I'd love to see Steve Rogers vs internet troll he'd eat that up]

I hope the good Steve Rogers authors see this. This has potential I think.

#steve rogers #steve and bucky #bucky barnes #stucky #steve rogers and bucky barnes #captain america #marvel #avengers #chris evans #sebastian stan

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liketrianglehead-butspaghetti · 2 months

Text

i gotta talk about FourDogs

I really do. 'Cause I posted a lil' passive-aggressive hot take a few days ago, but this is Tumblr not TikTok. Here we can have our 60-second hot takes and eat our long essays too. Kipperlilly Copperkettle was introduced as a rival in episode 3, after which there were a number of posts criticizing The Bad Kids' response to her, labeling it disproportionately mean at best and bullying at worst. I think that's an unfair reading of that interaction and I'm gonna talk about why.

Now, I'll be the first to admit that it's parasocial as fuck over here and The Bad Kids are my personal best friends actually, so where necessary I'll do my best to separate the ((loyalist ride-or-die-bad-boys-for-lyfe emotional reactions)) from the actual points I'm trying to make.

((That being said, the fuck was FourDogs talking about? Y'know? Like what was she on about, for real?))

Here's what's true: over the course of their time at Aguefort, three adults directly related to The Bad Kids - Jawbone, Gorthalax, and Gilear - have been instated as faculty or staff. And if I'm a third-party, especially another student, then for sure. It's giving nepotism, it's giving cronyism, and I'm drinking my Haterade about it every morning. But favoritism is about treatment. It's about actions, rewards, benefits - and ma'am, if you're gonna levy a charge like that, I'm afraid you're gonna need receipts!

What actual benefits have The Bad Kids received from the school that is not available to other students? In freshman and sophomore year, The Bad Kids get detention like anybody else, they don't make it on the Bloodrush team, Gorgug in particular was always not doing great in Barbarian class, they take their midterms, they have to complete the big 60%-of-the-grade spring break project, etc. And now this year, Fig is getting punished for not going to class, Kristen is getting consequences specific to being a kid with ADHD who doesn't live at home anymore, Gorgug's still getting the literal opposite of favoritism from Porter, and Riz, Adaine, and Fabian are all getting the treatment from professors that is proportional for historically successful students in good academic standing.

((And someone else brought this up but, re:that 60%-of-the-grade project, miss ma'am, what were you doing in the Far Haven Woods?? In addition to saving the world again, The Bad Kids endured borderline psychological torture for their final grade, while the Buttcrushers got to step on bugs in the neutral zone??? But they're the privileged ones, no, for sure))

Whether or not saving the world is as big a deal in-universe as it would be in our real world is up for debate. Brennan said it was an outstanding feat in the scope of student adventuring at Aguefort to consistently complete Class B and C quests, but then, when TBK comes back from Hot Yorb Summer everyone acts like they went on a class trip to Six Flags. Either way, unearned success is the wiiiiiildest claim to lay at the feet of consistent world-savers.

Freshmen year it was the Helioic Fundamentalist Apocalypse and the Emperor of the Red Wastes. Sophomore year it was the Nightmare King and the Night Yorb. They've saved the whole school, they've saved specific students at the school. They My Little Pony-ed Ragh, one of the biggest actual bullies Aguefort had, and then Fabian killed toxic masculinity! Even if the favoritism was in the room with us, would it not be the natural result of all this hero shit??? Aguefort hasn't done The Bad Kids any favors he wouldn't do for the rest of the student body, but even if he had I'd get it because KRISTEN APPLEBEES SNUCK HIM INTO HEAVEN AND THEN BROUGHT HIS ASS BACK TO LIFE.

Again, maybe not remarkable in a world where Revivify is just a thing you can learn, but y'know! Shit!! Diamonds aren't free!!

Also FourDogs' whole tone of disdain for the "eccentricity" of Arthur Aguefort's administrative decisions truly boggles the mind, because we found out in freshmen year that he has some kind of mass Power Word over the government of Solace that allows the students of his school to do crimes, AND in sophomore year he has that auto-call-ex-machina that students can evoke when they're in danger overseas. His "eccentricity" is the reason the school can function at all, put some respect on man's name.

Now, let's get word-perfect.

That's the American Psychological Association.

And that's StopBullying.gov, which is managed by the Department of Health and Human Services.

Here's what's true. At moment 00:00 of their relationship, Kristen said something pretty freakin' mean to Kipperlilly for an audience of her friends with like, no provocation.

Kipperlily then revealed that she has based her entire campaign around addressing the perceived privilege that "some students" have under Arthur Aguefort's rules. And THEN, Jawbone revealed that Kipperlilly had been snooping around asking questions about Kristen's relationships with her god and trying to get general dirt on The Bad Kids. BUT WAIT THERE'S MORE, in the preview for episode 6, we get Murph's line of "Kipperlilly's team is trying to get us kicked out of school".

Does that excuse the thing Kristen said ((yes it was hilarious)), no. Not at all. She didn't know that stuff, Kipperlilly just failed a vibe check. In the moment though, that's all it was. The Bad Kids met someone they didn't like and perceived as a threat, and Kipperlilly had something mean said to her by people she already didn't like and already wants to see brought down. While she was not threatening them in that moment, Kipperlilly is a threat. She's not a victim, she is an equal with opposing goals. And now that Ruben has the song of the summer, The Buttcrushers are probably just as popular as The Bad Kids. There is no greater imbalance, they're just adversaries.

Ultimately, Kipperlilly's got them fucked up. But she's a kid. Kids are allowed to get shit fucked up and misdirect their anger at systemic unfairness. TBK are also kids and well within their rights to feel what they felt when Four Dogs walked up with self-righteous vibes and started yappin about academic privilege in what is already the most academically stressful year of their lives.

As the audience, we not only know all the shit TBK has gone through that Kipperlilly does not, we also are aware of how Brennan is introducing her in the story. As soon as he brings her into the scene, you know what's up. The voice he gives her, the tone, the actual things he's saying - if you watch everyone's face after the line about favoritism gets dropped it's the culmination of the whole interaction. Oh, she's our enemy, like our specific enemy and her team is coming for us, specifically.

So what do we gain from ignoring all that? From ignoring the JUICE of this rivalry and flattening it into "the bad kids were mean :/". I actually love Kipperlilly, the rivalry is giving and I love feeling big emotions and getting to use angry, feral, fandom language. FourDogs, can't wait to see you next week, and I can't wait to read the 40k word, FourDogsxKristen, enemies-to-lovers fics. And y'know, shout out to all the people who kin her because she found the rogue teacher, it's pretty goated, I won't lie.

But also. Bad Kids Supremacy. Buttcrushers, stay mad.

#d20 #dimension 20 #kipperlilly copperkettle #four dogs #fhjy spoilers #fhjy #in this essay i will #free my kids they did nothing wrong #i support bad kids rights #i support bad kids wrongs #fantasy high junior year

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fire-on-thirst · 11 months

Note

Gotta say I love ur work so much. Can we get a lestappen Instagram fic and maybe a lewis And charles fic, either as friends or in a relationship.

I have this headcanon where lewis and charles are friends and Lewis visits charles and goes into his wardrobe and finds out he has many fashionable clothes but was either too shy to wear them to the paddock or was afraid of being accused of copying lewis, but lewis convinces charles of wearing them to the paddock. And they come in on race day both looking fabulous maybe they are matching or they simply came together.

charles_leclerc

liked by landonorris, maxverstappen1, pierregasly and others

charles_leclerc Travelling the world with you makes it so much better!! ❤️✈️🌏

I have also been told that I must point out that those stuffed animals are all mine. (They are not)

view all 8274 comments

landonorris *cough* photo credits for some of those *cough*

danielricciardo Me too

pierregasly Me Three

landonorris if we have to deal with this shit we should at least get photo credits

charles_leclerc Have you got something stuck in your throat you gremlin?

landonorris .sebastianvettel Charles is being mean to me

sebastianvettel And this is why I refused to have an Instagram account

pierregasly This post is both sweet and sickening. It would probably be more sweet if I didn’t see it often or walk into something that has caused me to be scarred for life

arthur_leclerc You’ve only walked in on them once?

landonorris You’ve only recently walked in on them??

user1 Does that look like Max?

user2 Charles and Max Verstappen? I think you need to get your eyes checked

user1 He liked the photo though

user2 Doesn’t mean a thing

leclerc_pascale Beautiful Couple ❤️🥰

charles_leclerc Merci maman ❤️

leclerc_pascale I assume you are taking good care of him?

charles_leclerc Maman, aren’t you meant to be asking him that? I’m your son!

leclerc_pascale He’s also my son. Debatably my favourite. Are you taking care of him?

charles_leclerc HE’S YOUR FAVOURITE?!?!

arthur_leclerc MAMAN!

lorenzotl EXCUSE ME!!

leclerc_pascale He’s the only one who hasn’t caused me any stress or gave me grey hairs

maxverstappen1

liked by arthur_leclerc, danielricciardo, victoriaverstappen and others

maxverstappen1 I think I’ve got a stalker 🧐

view all 9827 comments

landonorris Don’t call me a stalker. It’s called personalised photography

maxverstappen1 If you break into my house to take pictures of me sleeping it’s called stalking

landonorris Don’t forget the time I snuck into the shower 🤤😉

user1 LANDO 😂😂

danielricciardo I don’t think you mind this one specific stalker

maxverstappen1 🤫

victoriaverstappen Wonder who the stalker is? 🧐

user2 Charles just posted a post with his partner and now Max??

user3 And Arthur has liked Max’s post. I didn’t even know that Arthur followed Max

user2 Something is definitely happening I can just feel it

charles_leclerc

liked by landonorris, danielricciardo, pierregasly and others

charles_leclerc I wanted this to be a cute little reveal but then you called me a stalker so the cute reveal went out the window. Here you guys go anyway, me and maxverstappen1 are dating and have been for several years now. We hid it not knowing what the reaction would be and partly scared we would lose our seats in F1 which has been both of our dreams since we were young boys. Eventually I gained the courage and came out as gay to the world and said that I was also dating someone and the support I got was unimaginable. Yes obviously there was some hate but most of it was supportive and just overall kind.

After a long discussion we no longer wanted to hide this relationship from everyone and why should we? Other people in the paddock don’t have to do why should we? Yes a Ferrari driver is in love with a Red Bull driver and if you don’t support it then don’t support me (or him). It’s our life to live and everybody else has has to just real with it. I will still fight on the track to win the championship and under no circumstances will I just let Max win. We are both professionals and both too stubborn to actually let the other win. We’ve been together for several years and have had several battles on track (just without you guys knowing about the relationship) and it never stopped us then so it won’t stop us now so nobody has to worry about any of that.

maxverstappen1 Thank you for everything that you’ve done throughout the years and the memories that you have given me and we certainly have many more to come especially now that we don’t have to hide. (I hope everyone is ready for the spam that is going to come on my stories and posts). … I Love You!! ❤️

Ps. I will beat you to a championship one day

View all 102819 comments

landonorris WOOOOOOOO!!!

danielricciardo Fucking finally. Can I now post all the pictures I have of the two of you?

arthur_leclerc 👏🏻👏🏻 Happy for you!

pierregasly 🫢😱🤯 You and Max together never would’ve guessed that. Congratulations though for finally announcing it. I can now officially make jokes in interviews.

victoriaverstappen Wonderful Couple 🩷

scuderiaferrari Congratulations. You’ll always have us behind you!

maxverstappen1 I love you too you soppy idiot 💙

charles_leclerc ❤️

charles_leclerc Your turn to do a post on me

maxverstappen1 Maybe when you win the championship

———

Also here is the Lewis Hamilton x Charles Leclerc drabble.

#instagram au #max verstappen/charles leclerc #charles leclerc/max verstappen #lestappen #mv #cl #drabble book #lewis hamilton/charles leclerc #charles leclerc/lewis hamilton #lh #f1 instagram au #anon request

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tarotofzhivamoon · 5 months

Text

Pick a picture reading

Why aren’t they making the first move?

Hi! Thank you for stopping by and reading my work. I hope that you’re going to find the guidance that you need🫶🏻 You can now book a reading with me! Visit my services here and just message me if you are interested in booking any reading.

Pause and take a big breath in, then choose the pile you feel the most drawn to🦋

Masterlist • P@tr30n • Personal readings

Pile 1

Your person isn’t making the first move right now because they feel extremely intimidated by you, by your energy but also by how you are making them feel when you are around you. There’s this nervous energy about them that is coming through really strong because you as a person, you demand respect from those around you just by the way you present yourself, the way you enter a room and how you navigate life and that’s simply too powerful and way too intimidating for your person. It’s almost like they feel as though they’re not on your level yet, they haven’t really explored themselves, but also the world the way you’ve done and they just feel really insecure when it comes to approaching you. It seems as though they’re really struggling because this person could be very domineering, energy wise, as well, but you’re far more powerful than they are and they haven’t really met someone who could actually stand up to them or is as sure of themselves, sure of what they want and actually taking the necessary action to get it. It could be that you’re the one who approached them as well when you’ve met, your eyes might’ve locked on them and you weren’t simply passively waiting for them to come to you because you simply give off that energy of “I want it, I got it” and you don’t really give up or stop until you actually have what you want. They’re simply impressed by you and who you are as a person, they are studying you but keeping their distance a little bit because maybe they’ve been used to be the one who’s in control or to actually make the first move in relationships, come up with the initiative to do something or take some form of action and you just flipped their entire world around by simply being this amazing you. This person is so into you that they just freeze when it comes to actually coming towards you, they have no idea how to act, how to react, how to respond because again, you’re a person who knows what they want and now it’s making them feel like they don’t want to do or say the wrong thing and lose your interest because they didn’t play their cards right with you.

If you enjoyed this reading, the full, in depth reading is available to read on P@tr30n which you can find in my masterlist pinned post. Thank you so much for your support💗

Likes and rbs are appreciated🦋

Pile 2

Your person isn’t making the first move just yet because they are feeling very disconnected from you emotionally, they don’t really know if you are interested in them just as much as they are interested in you and they really seem to be very self conscious about the way that they are showing up with you. They are looking at things from a higher perspective, debating, thinking, analyzing and honestly the conclusions that they have reached have been pretty unfair towards you. There might be some accusations in the end on you as well, that you’re not doing this and that, that you’re not showing up and you also could be the one to actually make the first move and they don’t have to be the ones doing that at all and they are just trying to assign blame everywhere else but on themselves where it kind of is necessary. The two of you really need to sit down and have and open and honest conversation about where the two of you are at mentally, emotionally but also in this connection so that the two of you can actually address the root cause of that resentment that they have been building and forget past mistakes in order for you to move forward with the connection. This person seems to be lurking in the ‘shadows’, from behind the scene and they are actually looking through your social media, checking to see what you’ve been doing, what you’ve been sharing, maybe even looking to see if you’ve shared something for them specifically that you’re not actually saying to them directly. Instead of messaging you and trying to be mature and act like an adult, they are actually choosing to play games and actively look for passive messages for them that you might be sending them. They might be the type of person who’s not very experienced in communication, they might struggle to initiate them or even talk about difficult things that kind of need to be addressed so their other options is to just avoid those conversations and try to find answers through other means that are very indirect and non-confrontational.

If you enjoyed this reading, the full, in depth reading is available to read on P@tr30n which you can find in my masterlist pinned post. Thank you so much for your support💗

Likes and rbs are appreciated🦋

Dividers by Kawaii-Lau on Tumblr🦋

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tarotofzhivasmoon · 6 months

Text

Pick a picture reading.

Why aren’t they making the first move?💌

Pause and take a big breath in, then choose the pile you feel the most drawn to🦋

You can now book a reading with me! Visit my services here and just message me if you are interested in booking any service!

Pile 1

The full, in depth reading is available to read on Patreon. Thank you so much for your support💗

Heart and reblog this post if it resonated with you🦋

Pile 2

The full, in depth reading is available to read on Patreon. Thank you so much for your support💗

Heart and reblog this post if it resonated with you🦋

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francesminos-tt · 1 year

Text

I stumbled upon a post here saying Joff is Jacegan’s son, and I also know about a fic where Viserys is Lucemond’s love child, which make me think. A lot. How about a modern au where Joff is Jace and Cregan’s son, Aegon the younger is Rhaenyra and Daemon’s son where Viserys Jr is Luke and Aemond’s son. I am messing up some age gap here.

Please don’t take this too seriously. It’s just a quick crack post!

When Joffrey was born

Jace 20

Cregan 21

Luke 18

Aemond 23

Daeron 13

Jace gave birth to Joff when he was 20. It was totally unexpected, truly, he didn’t even realize he was pregnant until like 4 months in. He was still trying to figure out who he really wanted, Cregan or Sara. (It is Cregan. It is Cregan from the start. Even Sara knows it, if her speech at Jace and Cregan’s wedding is anything to go by.) Jace panicked all through his pregnancy, thinking himself a failure to be knocked up while still in college. He ceased that line of thought the moment he got little Joff in his arms. All is well after that. (Or maybe not, because Jace worked nonstop after Joff’s birth, trying to make up for all the missing school work and graduate in time. Cregan had to feed him real food. Humans can’t survive solely on energy drinks, obviously. One would expect someone smart as Jace, a leading debater at the school debate team, should know better. But alas. Fortunately Cregan was there to help, and he had no intention of ever leaving Jace’s side.)

Luke beats his big brother’s record by giving birth at 18. (19, Luke agues, his water broke when celebrating his 19th nameday, so technically he was 19 when Viserys Jr was born.) Unlike Jace, his pregnancy was a carefully constructed plan to baby trap Aemond. And it worked. Luke is very proud of himself. Aemond can play hard to get for all he likes, but Luke knows his scaring uncle has feelings for him. Or else who would stare at someone like Aemond does every time their extended family is forced to get together? When Luke learned Aemond would go to Citadel School of Business for a master’s degree next year, he knew he had to act quickly. He pulled some strings (black mailed Aegon, to be precise) to get Aemond’s schedule and successfully stumbled upon a drunk Aemond outside a shady bar. The rest is history. (Luke shared his pregnancy with his mother Rhaenyra, who was expecting her first child with her uncle Daemon. They made so many uncle fucking jokes that Jace had to flee the room out of sheer terror. Luke laughed until Aemond picked him up from the sofa to go get a scheduled ultrasound. Aegon the younger was born 3 months prior to Viserys Jr.)

Joffrey always feels like a big brother to Aegon the younger and Viserys Jr growing up, although he is only one year older than them. He takes after Jace, apparently, to care for the little ones, but he also inherited Cregan’s protectiveness toward his family. So when he sees Aegon and Viserys being bullied by some shitface, he rushes to their rescue. Joff took several punches, sure, but he also kicked one of the bullies on the balls. (Cregan is so proud. Jace, not so much at first, but after he learns Joff only gets in a fight to protect Aegon and Viserys, he gets Joff a Switch as reward.) Joff is at least a head shorter than the bullies, so he slowly loses his ground and is about to be shoved into a stinking pond when his knight in shining armor arrives. Daeron is on his way back from tennis training when he saves Joff from drowning in a stinking pond worse than the sewers. Joff spits out disgusting water and kicks Daeron on the shin. To his credit, Joff doesn’t need protection, he can fucking defend himself thank you very much. (Language! Jace shouts.) Years later, when Daeron nervously asks Joff to go on a date with him, Joff barely spares him a glance as he says yes. Daeron is more nervous than he goes to a Grand Slam Final. He can’t be blamed. He’s asking his great-nephew (Oh god that sounds wrong) 13 years his junior to go on a date with him.

Later at a family dinner

Cregan: Look I will allow you to date my son only if you get your tennis player buddies to sign the autograph- (Jace throwing him death glare) Never. I mean I will never let you defile my precious little Joffrey.

Daeron: Come to think of it, I am only 13 years older than Joff while uncle Daemon is like 16 years older than Rhaenyra. No offense, uncle Daemon.

Daemon (sipping wine, looking smug): None taken, kid.

Luke: I know I am not the best person to say this-

Aemond: You are not.

Luke: Shut up.

Aemond: Make me.

Rhaenyra (ignoring the gross sound of kissing in the background): Joff, dear, just remember to use protection. I have some condoms in my drawer that you may like. I believe they are coke flavor.

Jace: MUM!

Daeron: Thank you sister, but I don't think it will be necessary. I won’t even hold Joff’s hands until his 16th nameday.

Jace: YOU WANT TO HOLD MY SON’S HANDS???

Luke (finally breaks the kiss but still sits on Aemond’s lap): Now I feel like we are not the sickest couple in this family anymore.

Aemond: I can be sick.

Jace: THIS IS NOT A COMPETITION!!

Joff (stealing Daeron’s desert while frantically poking at his Switch. Damn that dragon is hard to defeat)

#aemond x lucerys #lucemond #house of the dragon #hotd #mpreg #jacegan #jacaerys velaryon #cregan x jace #daeron x joffrey #joffrey velaryon #joffron #crack

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ghostflowerhotpotch · 9 months

Note

Do you think that gwen stacy is trans?

Yes, yes I do.

Now, the last time I talked about this I also mentioned I didn't see a point in making a post about it, because nothing I was going to say was going to be different than what you had probably already seen everywhere else.

That being said-

I had seen SO MANY idiots on the internet, to which I haven't replied (because I am also trans I used to know when or not to bother with people like that,) which had made me want to discuss the matter in my own words, even if I can't truly add anything new to the table.

So, I will probably do the same reasoning everyone else had already said, if anyone is still interested in reading it feel free, if not you can scroll. I will also address some common criticism of the theory.

Before we start the actual arguments, a few things.

No, I don't think if you believe Gwen is cis you are transphobic or something, as long as you are respectful.

I can't say how people see her or not, and while for me the evidence feels obvious, I know unless we have Gwen saying it (or someone close to her at least,) it cannot be sure one way or another. Remember that, ONE WAY OR ANOTHER.

I am fine if someone doesn't think she is trans, but I do think believing is IMPOSSIBLE for her to be is when you are entering transphobic territory. The reason why I think this is dumb, aside of the evidence; is the fact that if a character doesn't need to say I'm cis at any point to believe so, Gwen shouldn't need to say I'm trans for people to HC her as such or similar.

With that out of the way, let's start.

Going back to this image, we see that Gwen has a flag that says "Protect trans kids." Which to me feels like says a lot.

I had seen people suggest that "Of course she is an ally, she is a hero!" And while I could get Gwen being interested in helping people who face discrimination, since she deals with crime and such; the idea has me cackling more than anything else.

Is not impossible, but seriously, WHEN had you seen an ally with a flag in their room? It feels like an excuse someone who is in the closet would say; allies could have trans stuff or displayed in certain situations, but those situations tend to be in public, you know? Since being an ally means being vocal when you need to; there is really no reason for an Ally to have a trans flag in their room as decoration.

To top it all off, is on top of her door, not a window or anything, is obviously this is more for her than anything else.

George Stacy has a trans flag on his uniform.

This...This a really big deal honestly.

In a vacuum is a small gesture, perhaps if you aren't part of the community you don't get why I think this is amazing. So let me say a couple of things.

He is supporting his trans daughter; maybe is because of my family, or because all of my current trans and non-gender conforming friends have parents who range from shitting to not very supportive in general. So having Gwen be trans, still be a teen, and her dad supporting her? FUCK that means the world to me, even if I think he isn't that good of a dad.

This is in his uniform, this isn't just supporting Gwen in front of her, but also when she isn't around. You would be surprised how many parents say to be supportive but be quiet while hearing about discrimination. This also can lead me to believe he will be supportive when other trans individuals are around.

He is a cop. In real life, I don't feel safe around cops for a multitude of reasons I will not get to because I don't want to get too political here. Regardless, the fact that he is the Police Captain of his department while having this shows that he can be supportive of trans people, is huge.

Now, I know the next piece of evidence has been debated A LOT, especially for people who honestly, have clearly no idea how cinema, animation, or art work at all.

You know? Coding can be so funny at times.

There have been multiple times, when things had been coded on purpose, to the point I thought it was as subtle as a brick hitting your face; and yet I still find people who don't get it and just baffled me to not end.

Examples: Norma in Dead End Paranormal is coded as autistic, but it is never explicitly said on the show, (I think is mentioned in the comics? I know the creator is autistic.) However I never felt it needed to, because Normal has so many signs and hints that I clock her in the first episode, and the representation is so point it feels as if she needed to state she is a woman of color.

Nimona is another example related to the trans experience; seriously almost word for word what Nimona says can be applied to trans people, with the creator also being trans; and yet I was baffled to see some people saw the movie and didn't clock that.

Now, is what Gwen is saying in this scene talking about her experience being Spider-woman? Yes. However, just like Nimona didn't explicitly say she was trans, their entire story revolves around a trans allegory (As well as being likely genderfluid,) feels like is trying to say something.

Not to mention that this is a story, an animated one at that; everything you see on screen was put there by someone and animation tends to have fewer coincidences because you are going to be staring at this screen for a LONG time most probably. It was also noted by the crunch situation (which is again, horrifying and I think Chris Miller needs to find another way to work rather than wasting time and resources like he did,) that the writers had a tendency to tweak to make sure everything was on point; this couldn't have been thrown carelessly.

With all of this preface, Gwen's speech in this section? This could be played WORD BY WORD on a come-out speech.

"And they can only know half of who I am!" -> Having your real gender identity in the closet a lot of times feels like you need to hide half of who you are, from likings to aesthetics to even how you behave socially, it can be a big toll.

"So I'm completely on my own!" -> This is a common sentiment for people who are in the closet without support, because you are carrying all these feelings alone and have no one to understand.

"And now, I don't- I don't even know what the right thing is, anymore!" -> People may be a bit confused about this one, but believe it or not, it happens more often than you think. Should you transition? Should you wait a few years? Should you try to have this conversation with your parents, cousins, etc?

"But I know...I can't lose, one more friend." -> I don't think, I need to talk about how often people aren't supportive of trans individuals. I could talk more about this, but frankly, I don't need to. It happens, even to this day and age, especially in the current political climate.

To top all of this off, the reason why I singling this part (Aside from this speech being as subtle as the Ruby Gillman movie having the antagonist be a parody of Ariel.) Is the background.

The colors are just like a trans flag.

Now, I had seen people suggest that pointing at this is dumb because "that's just an homage to the covers!"

To which I said, no, this is the homage.

And what the background is doing with Gwen in the speech scene is definitely not the same thing.

I find this argument really funny from an artistic point of view, but in case people are wondering why I don't think it counts, let me number a few things.

The covers do this lighting situation OUTSIDE, they normally depict Gwen being around the city on a landscape when things happen, not indoors. This is both the covers and the sky in Gwen's universe. But we don't see indoor places doing this really.

The colors blend, while you can see buildings and windows have their own colours, you can also see them going from orange, to pink and red on the exact same wall.

If you want even more proof of my support, let me show you what the artbook says about this (which includes the covers.)

My point is, even if we try to argue that the covers had something to do; do you think in a movie where they already have Gwen had a trans flag, her dad had a trans patch; would have a moment when the speech mimics exactly the trans experience (or a big chunk for many people,) with the colors in the background being EXACTLY like a trans a flag, with creators and creative that they have STATED, the importance of color in Gwen's world and in Gwen specifically, somehow just choose colors at random at a pivotal moment of the movie?

And I am somehow the crazy one?

Biases

I like to believe I am a fair person, for the most part. Every time I do these analyses I try to be as impartial as possible, and when I know there is a chance my biases and personal opinion will come into hand, I said that much.

As I said before, I am trans, anyone who has seen at least my master post can probably guess I like Gwen. Having a character I dearly love be trans (Even if our situations are wildly different) obviously means the world to me, and perhaps I would have had a similar headcanon even without any hints or evidence.

Regardless, I don't think what I am saying is purely biased; things are put in movies for a reason, especially animated movies, and let me tell you something, has this been another character, especially if it was a new character? I don't think people would be debating this.

If we have a new character having a trans flag in their room, their dad having a trans patch, this narrative; I doubt anyone would be saying this is coding. (Honestly, we would probably have more dudebros saying this is woke garbage than the ones I had seen lol.)

Alternative theories

Now, since I have addressed the theory and some of its criticism, I can't just ignore the number of people had rather than thinking Gwen is trans, believe someone else is.

Theory 1: Peter is Trans

This isn't odd. Honestly if you had been part of the Spiderman community while being queer, or aware of queer readings, you would have probably come around to the fact that a lot of people headcanon Peter Parker as trans, in multiple different variants in different mediums.

Partially because the spidey-hero situation really mimics the trans experience (there is a reason why you can put Gwen's speech on a come-out scene while simultaneously being about her hero identity without either way sounding forced,) and depending on what source materials, other clues can apply. This post isn't about that and it is already extremely long, so I will not dwell on this.

With this theory in mind, Gwen and her dad would be having trans flag and patch in memory of Peter, since with this theory it was likely that was the reason he was bullied, and probably another reason why to experiment to become the lizard; since being bullied could make him feel like he needs to find a way to be more masculine.

And look, do I have a problem with people thinking Peter is trans? Not really, I encourage it, I personally like the idea that both Gwen and Peter were trans and they bonded over it.

However, I wouldn't want this to be in canon, why?... It feels like it would fall into some harmful stereotypes.

Think about it this way; if we go with this route, a trans teen was bullied, after showing he looks like he is kind of isolated (Gwen seems to have the band at least, Peter looks like he was a loner, and then Gwen started to put distance between them because Spider-woman issues.) Get's so desperate that in an attempt to be "special" (maybe even "better" and "stronger," if he felt he wasn't enough as he was,) tries to experiment with things he shouldn't dying in the process; to which Gwen and her dad then would try to fight for trans rights in his memory, as this theory also heavily implies Peter was bullied because he was trans.

And look, angst narratives had their place, and a lot of people like this narrative, heck I remember a book that does something similar (More than Gold is the name, tho the character doesn't die,) and that was written by a trans person.

Nonetheless, the idea to suggest the only trans person in this narrative, dies after ostracization and bullying, and their purpose on the story as a whole would be to fuel Gwen's pain, with the "protect trans kids" idea only happening partially because of her guilt; feels a lot like "bury your gays (or trans in this case,)" something akin to frigging (while Peter would obviously still consider a boy in this theory, having a character from a minority die to hurt/inspire a protagonist, feels deeply concerning.) Is just a combination of too many things that I dislike.

Again, if someone likes this idea I will not say they are a bad person or anything; but I would have fewer issues if it wasn't because a SIGNIFICANT number of those who said this theory, had also shown to be deeply transphobic; insisting Gwen is obviously not trans with non-arguments. Doesn't need to be everyone, but it still annoys me.

2. Captain Stacy IS the trans one!

This one is...interesting, to say the least.

This one is less frequent than Peter's, but I had seen it pop around enough that I decided to address it.

Unlike Peter's, this one doesn't carry horrible connotations. Well it would have the "only" (if we go with this theory and with no other "canon" trans parent in the story,) trans parent be also the one that tries to point a gun at his daughter, to also be so extremely stubborn even when she finally comes back he acts kind of petulant- okay all of these things are bad, however, they wouldn't need to be related to each other; since none of these are really stereotypes of trans men. That's something?

Anyways, the big idea behind this theory is that aside from being more plausible for an adult to use a trans patch because they are trans rather than because their kid is trans, it could be a possible explanation as to why there is no mom or mention of a mom, since this child could be in vitro.

Which, okay, not that bad; I don't think a lot of trans men would like the idea of being pregnant, however, it has happened before so why not.

I don't think this is a bad theory overall, I just don't roll with it because it feels kind of, lazy? Again, do as you may; but it feels that the people who did it were more interested in again, having an explanation for Gwen not being trans, while also not actively being transphobic. Maybe some people just want more trans dad content I don't know.

There are technically instances of both the Peter theory and the Dad theory that could dethrone both of these, but the one related to Peter makes me feel a bit gross to think too hard about, and the other George one could imply something things that one way or other I don't like when the reality is that is a few frames on a scene where the patch isn't the focus. Another reason is that hey, if I don't have solid evidence on my own, I am not going to nitpick at other fan theories.

Speaking of which.

Is this Representation?

Short answer: No, no it's not.

I don't even want to discuss if is good representation, because it doesn't feel like it is to begin with. Yes, I do believe Gwen is trans, but all the things I have are background references, that are okay, however not having a confirmation does sting. It doesn't have to be the focus of her character, yet is not even off comments really, just some clues around.

Do I think it doesn't have Merit? No.

I remember during the first days this movie was out, I read a comment from someone who was in Florida, who said when they saw the "Protect Trans Kids" flag in Gwen's room, started crying.

I think of myself, almost a decade ago, in a country that wasn't really welcome to gay people, much less trans people; of the discrimination I faced because of it. I think when I was a teen, grappling with all these feelings; and how I would had feel seen the badass and cool, Gwen Stacy as Spider-woman, having that trans flag in their room. I know I would have cried too.

We cannot act like things are perfect currently; the United States, England, and other countries are becoming increasingly transphobic; having these things in a PG movie, from a big company, that is released to a worldwide level and is making bank. Not to mention that as small as these details are, the movie did end up getting banned for it, not even censored.

I think we can get better representation, but it doesn't mean this is less huge or less special; even if it didn't touch me like it would have in the past, it had touched many people, and that's something I appreciate one way or another.

This is in itself, another reason why to love this idea.

Gwen being trans fits the themes of the story better

Stan Lee is obviously, talking about Spider-MAN, but it gets the message across doesn't it?

Part of the reason Spiderman became so iconic, was the idea that ANYONE could be Spiderman, this ended up involved in these movies too.

In Across the Spider-verse, we see multiple types of spiders, people from the future, and past, children, women, men, animals, and a popsicle at one point (literally.) The movie also has Miguel, who is the antagonist, convinced what makes them Spiderman/Spiderwoman/you get the idea- is decided by a cosmic force, with Miles claiming that Spiderman is an idea, a responsibility, but something much more diverse than "you need these events to happen in order to be considered truly spiderman."

In Into the Spider-verse, this idea is also shown, by having spideys that are not just Peter Parker, and how Peter while important, isn't truly the protagonist of this tale, he doesn't need to be.

This franchise hinders the idea that being Spiderman is more than a name, a gender, or your background; is about someone that when given the possibility of using their powers for their own gain or ignoring the call, decides to risk it all, to handle a difficult life, to try to do their best despite the circumstances; because the essence of Spiderman, is being a hero, and anyone can be Spiderman. Anyone can be a hero.

Gwen being trans, elevates this idea.

While I think having more Spider-woman content is empowering on its own, cis woman or trans, the idea of having a trans hero obviously exemplifies this idea more than having her absence.

If Gwen is a trans girl, it would mean having a trans girl who is a tridimensional character, a trans teen that messes up, that doesn't know what to do, but is also a hero, and wants to do her best like everyone else. It means showing a trans girl as someone beautiful, badass, and having a guy who adores her with all his might.

If the idea of having her Peter be trans could be problematic, having her be trans means having a great role model, means a story about trans joy where we are free to be more than our identities, because the idea of Gwen casually being a hero and also trans is amazing in its own.

Is not perfect, but I ultimately love this idea, because it brings me hope. It means comfort for some trans and trans teens suffering out there, it means perhaps someone out there will try to offer more stories on the big screen with trans teens.

I want to believe this because Gwen being trans means more for us and the narrative than it would be otherwise. Let us have our dreams.

#ask #atsv files #gwen stacy #peter parker earth 65 #captain stacy #george stacy #across the spideverse #atsv

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solradguy · 9 months

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Guilty Gear hugs tier list. These listings can be debated if you want, but I'm going to post this, sign out, and go for a walk before it rains.

Reasoning:

BEST ==

Dizzy: Come on, look at her. Hugs like a best friend you haven't seen in years.

Elphelt: Might be kinda awkward if there's a snowball's chance in hell she thinks she could marry you but otherwise it's a damn good hug.

Jack-O': I'm biased. Hugs like it's the last time she'll ever see you.

Goldlewis: Like being hugged by a grizzly bear. Pats your back. 10/10

Sin: Kid puts his whole heart into everything he does. No way he hugs bad.

Axl: Good at hugging because it really just might be the last time he ever sees you.

Sol: He won't hug you. However, consider: warm, big arms, big chest. If Sol hugs you then the Earth is about to explode and he doesn't want to go out feeling alone.

GREAT ==

May: She's kinda bubbly (pun) and bubbly girls hug good.

Ky: Has rehearsed hugging. Knows the precise amount of time to hug for and how hard to hug but it still feels genuine.

Bridget: Don't have an explanation for this, just think she'd be good at hugs.

Izuna: Hugs like the cool uncle that let you take a sip of his bourbon when you were a teen. Pats your back.

Kliff: Dad hugs. Almost crushes your ribs but there's love in it.

Potemkin: Man's heart's full of love. He's careful not to kill you.

Chipp: Don't think Chipp hugs very frequently because he's a president and he's got an image to maintain, but I think he'd hug like everyone was his friend even if he just met them.

GOOD ==

Jam: Maybe a little too friendly for a hug with a stranger, like she hugs for just a bit too long and it starts getting kinda weird. She didn't mean anything weird by it though.

Zappa: It all depends on how involved S'Ko gets. There might be insects. Decent despite all that.

Slayer: I just don't think he'd hug anyone better than he hugs Sharon. A formal hug.

Leo: Tries too hard to hug well and doesn't quite make it.

Nagoriyuki: Could be killer at hugging if he had more opportunities to. A little out of practice from how long he was sealed in that thing.

Answer: Extremely formal and quick. He's got things to do.

Testament: Out of practice like with Nago. They're getting better though and at least whatever they put in their hair smells nice.

OKAY ==

Anji: If he hugs you, he's probably hitting on you. Depends entirely on how you'd feel about that. If he hugs you and he doesn't like you, I think it'd be a just barely acceptable hug.

Johnny: Saves his best hugs for hot women and his adopted daughters. It's a little awkward, like he doesn't really want to be hugging someone.

Faust: The image here is Strive Faust and I think Strive Faust would hug not great because he's really going through it in Strive and he just needs a moment. Xrd Faust would be up in GOOD or GREAT tier though.

Paradigm: Either you gotta squat down awkwardly to hug him or he's gotta climb up onto a table. Hugs in a professional manner, but the logistics of it make it difficult.

Bedman: Is asleep. Is strapped to a giant bed.

Ram: She's still learning. It's a cold hug because she's not sure how you're supposed to do it yet.

Giovanna: Doesn't want to hug and would rather be doing anything else.

Asuka: He was alright at hugging in 2015 but now it's 2187 and he's forgotten. The experience is uncomfortable for both parties.

Venom: Unless you're Zato, it's a quick and distant hug.

Raven: Would probably hug decently if he was in a serious mood, but odds are he's gonna make it bad weird.

BAD!! ==

Millia: She's had a rough life and also does not want to hug. A hug that makes you fear for your life and be grateful when the hug's over.

Justice: She's dead. Before that she wanted to destroy humanity. You can hug Justice but only once, and you better be fast.

Baiken: You might get stabbed. I can't imagine a scenario where she'd willingly hug anyone that wasn't Delilah.

I-No: Will just straight up kill you. Has never had a reason to hug someone before and might make it horny-weird if she's in a good mood and doesn't kill you first.

Robo-Ky: Assuming Crow programmed him to hug like Flesh Ky, it would still be like hugging a pile of sharp metal. If you're a woman he's going to say something uncomfortable.

Baldhead: Man's really going through it!! Going through it like no man's gone before!! Odds are looking like you'll get murdered.

ABA: Doesn't know what a hug is. Smells like rotting blood and flesh.

Order Sol: Sol at possibly his lowest point. Reeks like hair grease, body odor, and rotting blood. 48% chance you'll get Savage Fang'd, 48% chance you'll get Tyrant Rave'd, 4% chance he rips your heart out with his bare hand.

Valentine: She just stands there and doesn't hug back. Asks questions about hugs, hugging techniques, the meaning of hugs, the history of hugs, and what purpose they serve for as long as you're willing to bullshit answers.

Haehyun: The little human inside the robot is alright at hugging, but the robot itself will probably crush your bones.

Happy Chaos: He's going to do something really friggin weird for shits n giggles and you're going to regret it.

Zato: He's just shit at hugging. Dude died and came back wrong.

#photopost

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multifandomfanficss · 7 months

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Home Is Wherever You Are P2

Adrian Chase/Vigilante x Reader

With a very heavy emphasis on platonic!Christopher Smith/Peacemaker

Part 1, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

Adrian Chase Masterlist

Prompt: You take Adrian, Gut, and Chris school shopping. It might be harder to keep the timeline in tact than you originally thought.

Warnings: mentions of/implied child abuse, panic, meltdown, crying, divorce, mentions of August Smith, cannon typical Peacemaker violence and language, homophobia

A/N: I’ve decided to start with biweekly updates! I’m post on Saturday and Wednesday. I’ll also be posting on my new AO3 adriansglasses. I’ve actually added all of my old work there as well. Hope you guys enjoy!

“You’re the most attractive person I’ve seen in my entire life.” Adrian smiles at you.

“Shut up. No, I’m not.” You blush hiding your face from your boyfriend.

“Don’t hide.” He pushes your hands away from your face. “Please don’t hide your pretty face. It’s like the prettiest face I’ve ever seen and even if it wasn’t- which would be totally absurd like have you even seen yourself? You’re so hot- anyway more to the point. Your personality is so attractive to me that you’re automatically that much hotter. That’s just math babe. Do two wrongs make a right?” You laugh at his comparison. To someone else that may not make sense, but to many people Adrian never made sense. To you, he always made perfect sense.

“You’re too nice to me.” You say smiling at him.

“Well you’re the only one who’s nice to me sometimes period and your pain in the ass loves you very much.” He kisses you.

“I never said you were a pain in the ass!” You laugh. He gives you a look.

“Okay, I may have said it once or twice, but I didn’t mean it. I was just teasing you.” You kiss him on the cheek as he holds you close.

“It’s okay. I know I’m annoying and hard to deal with sometimes.” You turn his face to look directly in your eyes so he knows you’re serious.

“Not to me.”

September 1st, 1994

You woke up to the sound of the chunky alarm clock on the nightstand. You could hear somebody cooking downstairs. You used the bathroom and made your way to the kitchen to find Diane making breakfast.

“Morning! I’m running a little later than usual this morning, so all I could really manage was toast and eggs. Hope that’s okay.” She gave you a sympathetic smile.

“That’s more than okay. I usually skip breakfast half the time anyway.” You admit.

“You shouldn’t do that. Adrian’s always trying to skip breakfast. He doesn’t like most breakfast foods. I’ve been trying to make sure he eats more of them.” You have to bite back a comment about how his future self is still just as annoyed by the concept. You think back to all his rants about how breakfast doesn’t make sense because it’s foods you can only eat in the morning. He was always annoyed that he couldn’t order pancakes at dinner time or a burger for breakfast unless he was in a diner. It just didn’t make sense to him. ‘What?! Suddenly diners don’t have to follow the rules?! It’s all just a bullshit societal construct!’ You could hear his voice now.

“You could have called me down to help.” You say as the food sizzles in the pan.

“You were sleeping. You had a long day yesterday. I need your help with something while I’m at work anyway.” She says, turning to take the toast out of the toaster.

“What can I do for you?” You ask without debate. She’s helped you a lot and she is Adrian’s mom after all. You never thought you’d get to meet her outside of an ouija board. It’s the least you can do in your current situation.

“I have an envelope in my room for you with back to school money in it. It’s mostly just tip money I’ve been saving up from the restaurant. If you could bring the boys into town to get school clothes that would be wonderful. Adrian needs a little bit of everything. He just went through a big growth spirt. Dorian mostly needs new sneakers, but he should get a pair of jeans and maybe a couple shirts. There’s enough money in there to get a few things for Chris because God knows his father won’t do it. There should also be a little leftover if you want to get anything for yourself.” She says, beating the eggs.

“For me?” You question.

“You showed up with no clothes. You can have some of my old clothes, but I doubt you have the style of a divorced mom with two and a half kids. You should get one or two things you actually like.” She laughs.

“No, Diane I- I couldn’t-“

“Yes, you can and you will. This is basically just payment for the nannying gig.”

You smile at her. “Okay, fine. Thank you. I really appreciate it.”

After cooking breakfast and saying goodbye to the boys, Diane was off to the office for the day. She was a secretary at a nearby law firm. Waitressing was only her second job to help pay the bills after her husband left for another man.

“Dorian, do you know where Adrian’s shoes are?” You ask as you chase Adrian around the living room, trying to get him ready to leave. He had so much energy. You couldn’t say you were surprised.

“That’s not my name.” He sat there with his face in his gameboy, barley giving you the time of day. He was just radiating 12 year old angst. Honestly you couldn’t blame him. He was 12, Chris was 13, and they were both about to enter 7th grade. That’s hard enough on its own. It’s probably a lot harder when your mom is asking you to help look after your 3 year old brother because your dad just left because he’s gay. It’s 1994 in Evergreen, Washington and his best friend’s dad is the biggest homophobe in the country. None of this must be easy on him.

“What do you wanna be called?” You ask. He tears his eyes away from his gameboy to give you a look. It’s almost like nobody’s ever asked him or cared for his opinion.

“Gut.” He answers.

“Yeah that’s a much cooler name. My dad says Dorian is a pansy name.” Chris says, continuing to channel surf.

“Christopher Smith that is not nice and will not be tolerated when I’m around. Understand?” You know you can’t tell him his dad is wrong. You know if he challenges his dad now he might not make it back alive, so you hold your tongue for now.

“You can’t tell me what to do.” He huffs.

“Actually, as your babysitter, I can.” You turn to Gut. “Okay Gut, where’s your brother’s shoes?” You try again.

“By the door, under the bench.” He informs you.

“Thank you.” You smile, bringing Adrian to sit on the bench, so you can put on his shoes. There’s two pairs under the bench. You lift them up for him to choose between. One pair has dinosaurs on them and the other pair lights up. He very excitedly points at the light up ones. You can’t get him to sit still long enough to put on the shoes, so eventually you inevitably drop one.

“Motherfucker!” Adrian exclaims in his loud toddler voice.

“Adrian!” You say in shock. You want to laugh because this is so him, but you don’t wanna be blamed for this one. He’s only 3. He giggles at your reaction of the forbidden word.

“Motherfucker!” He says it again in a fit of giggles.

“Buddy, you can’t say that. That’s a grownup word. If you say it too many times you have to go to work and pay taxes.” You try to persuade him against the word.

“What’s taxes?” He asks.

“Taxes are what grown ups have to pay to people. They give a lot of money that you don’t have, so you shouldn’t say that word. Also not paying is a crime. I don’t wanna pay taxes, so I’m not gonna say it.” You try to bargain with him using toddler logic.

“But Dor and Chris say it!” He objects.

“Well, Dor and Chris are gonna have to pay taxes soon.” Adrian begins to cry. “Why are you crying, buddy?” You wipe his tears.

“I’m scawred!” He cries.

“Of what?” You ask.

“Taxes!” He cries.

“It’s okay. You didn’t say it enough times to have to pay taxes.” You pull his small, hiccuping body into your arms, not quite sure what to do. You feel kinda bad. Parenting is fucking hard. They say never parent your boyfriend, but you were taking it to a whole new level. You don’t think this is what they meant.

Finally you had wrangled the boys together and you were on your way to the store. You had to walk because Diane had the car at work and you obviously didn’t have one, but the store wasn’t far.

“Why do we have to walk? This is fucking stupid.” Chris complained.

“Chris, knock it off. We’re at the repeating age.” You gesture to Adrian, who was jumping around the cracks on the sidewalk. Luckily he wasn’t paying attention.

“Hey, Adrian!” Chris grabs his attention.

“Chris!” Adrian runs up to him, on his wobbly little legs.

“Don’t you fucking dare-“ The words came out of your mouth before you even had the chance to realize it.

Gut laughs. “You’re the one who actually said fuck in front of him.”

“Fuck!” Adrian repeats.

“No no no no no!” You try to stop him.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” He says as he hops up and down with each fuck.

“No! I said…duck! I said duck!” Gut and Chris break into a fit of laugher.

“Rey’s lying, Adrian.” Gut tells him. Adrian stops giggling and his entire body language changes. He starts to cry, trying to walk away. His little legs don’t carry him very far. You turn to Gut and Chris.

“Please just stop! I just wanna get through the day. Would it kill you to just be nicer to him?!” You don’t mean to lose your temper with the boys, but you know this is only the start to a lifetime of bullying and provoking Adrian. You sigh, dropping your attitude. They’re all just kids. “Stay here for a minute.” You turn in Adrian’s direction and start racing after him.

You try to scoop his little body into your arms, but he screams at you. “NO! NO!” Okay. He’s not great with words, but he totally has no down. You decide to give him some space. Even if he’s not his adult self yet, he’s still a person. You know how easily overwhelmed he gets as an adult. You can’t imagine how upset his 3 year old self is.

“Buddy, I’m really sorry.” You apologize. Your heart breaks. You hate knowing you made him cry.

“P-p-pweas don’t weave!” He begs you not to leave through his tears.

“Hey…what’s going on? Why do you think I’m gonna leave?” You question him.

“Daddy lied to m-mommy and now he’s not here!” Adrian cries. Oh fuck. Of course he couldn’t fully grasp that his father had an affair and that’s why he’s gone.

“Adrian, listen to me. I will never leave you for something like that. I’m sorry I lied to you. Lying isn’t nice, but I’m here for you. I will always be there for you. Even if I’m not here with you, right next to you, I promise I will always love you.” You try to keep yourself from crying now. You can’t help, but think of your version of Adrian at home without you. You try to keep your tears in and stay strong for the younger version of the man you love right in front of you. They feel like different people, but they’re not. This is Adrian and you need to help him.

“Lying isn’t nice!” Adrian repeats, sniffling as his tears slow.

“You’re right. It’s not. Do you want a hug or do you not want to be touched?” You ask.

“Hug!” He cries, crashing into your open arms. You hold his little body as he cries.

“Even if you can’t see me, I’ll always be with you. I love you.” Everything about this is so fucked up. You shouldn’t even be here. You’re messing with Adrian’s life. You’re messing with Chris’ life. Everything about this feels so wrong, but when he’s crying in your arms like this all you can think about is the restless nights when you’d cuddle with your boyfriend and he’d shed a tear or two about his childhood. You knew how much it effected him even now and you just wanted to protect him from all that was to come and heal all that had already happened, but you knew you couldn’t do that. Time had to run its course.

After you helped baby Adrian collect himself you joined Chris and Gut back on the sidewalk and continued your way to the store. Town was small, so the walk wasn’t long, but luckily you had a new Walmart nearby. In your day this Walmart was shitty, but in 1994 it was new. You let Gut and Chris walk around on their own with the promise they’d meet you in the men’s clothing section. You were going to take Adrian to the toddler section. Toddler clothes were cheaper and he was growing fast, so you picked out a couple different outfits for him. You grabbed some basic pants and socks that would match everything and let him pick his own shirts. He settled on a shirt with a spaceship on it that said ‘I’m so cute it’s out of this world’. He also picked a Barney shirt and an Aladdin shirt after making a comment on how both Jasmin AND Aladdin were pretty. You then brought him to your side of the clothing department to grab a shirt or two you liked before meeting up with the boys. After settling on some basic shirts, you were on your way to meet Chris and Gut when you passed the electronic isle and you caught Chris staring at a tape recorder. Even from a distance you could tell he was about to cry as he put it back on the shelf. Gut was nowhere to be seen, probably waiting in the men’s isle like was supposed to. He usually listened better.

“Hey, Chris…”

“I’m not crying!” He wipes his eyes.

“I know.” You give him a smile.

“I just got dust in my eye. They need to clean these shelves better.” He crossed his arms across his chest. You crouched down in front of Adrian.

“Hey, Ade. Why don’t you go pick out a movie for us to watch tonight from the clearance bin?” He wiggled excitedly before taking off towards the bin of cheaper VHS tapes.

“Stay where I can see you!” You called after him. He did just as you said and stayed in your line of vision as you talked to Chris more privately.

“Level with me. I know you weren’t crying, but if you had been crying…hypothetically of course…you could tell me anything. You know that, right?” You weren’t sure if you were breaking the timeline, but at this point you didn’t care. Chris deserved to be able to trust someone in his life.

“I wasn’t crying.” Chris tried to walk away from you, but you caught his arm in your hand.

“Chris, wait-“ He hissed as you made contact with his shoulder. Your jaw drops and you can almost feel tears in your eyes. You pulled up his sleeve to reveal small, circular burn marks. They were burns left behind from where his father had put out cigarettes in his arm.

“Stop starring at me like I’m a freak and just let me go.” He pushes you off of him and he walks away. You knew this job would be hard, but it’s a lot worse than you expected. You had no idea it would be this awful constant moral battle between letting these kids get hurt and keeping the timeline in tact. After realizing you were all alone and you could still see Adrian, but he wasn’t paying attention to you, you started to cry. After taking a deep breath you wiped your tears and picked up the tape recorder, putting the shirts for yourself on the shelf. Fuck it. Chris deserved something his dad couldn’t ruin. So what if you had to wear Diane’s maternity clothes and any clothes her husband left behind? You knew how much he loved music. He deserved this. Timeline be damned he deserved one fucking thing in his life untouched by his father. You hid it in the cart under some of Adrian’s clothes before heading to him digging around in the clearance vhs section.

“Rey!” He called for you as soon as he saw you.

“Adrian!” You called back, pretending to be happy. “Did you pick one?” You ask.

“This one!” He says, excitedly shoving the tape in your hands. You couldn’t help, but smile a real genuine smile. In your hands was a copy of the movie Adrian told you was his favorite growing up; The Brave Little Toaster.

“Have you seen this one?” You ask.

“No!” He smiles, hardly able to stand still.

“You’re gonna love it.” You smile, placing it in the cart. You take his hand and you both head to the men’s section to get clothes for Gut and Chris. Gut picked out a Green Day shirt, while Chris picked out a Nirvana shirt. You were happy when Chris didn’t pick up the Green Day shirt because you knew having that might get him in trouble in the next 10 years when they come out with American Idiot. His dad’s gonna hate that. These were of course considered hot new bands and most of their most famous songs weren’t even out yet. After picking out a couple more clothing items you headed to checkout. You were thankful Adrian was being such a distraction because Chris didn’t even see you put the tape recorder in the bag. With the remaining money, you took a bus to Fennel Fields for dinner where you told Diane you’d meet her on her night shift.

“Mommy!” Adrian yelled running up to her as soon walked through the door. It was nice to see him with his mother.

After grabbing a pizza you headed home. When you got there you pulled Chris aside and gave him the tape recorder.

“Happy birthday.” You said handing him the Walmart bag.

“It’s not my birthday.” He gives you a strange look.

“I know. Just think of it as an advance on your birthday gift.” You smile as he starts to open it.

“Is this mine?” He asks in shock. You nod. “Why did you do this?” He asks.

“Because you deserve something that’s yours that you enjoy.” You say as you watch his eyes well up with tears again.

“I’m not crying.” He says again.

“I know. But even if you were…it’s okay…” He stares at you for a moment before bringing you into a wordless hug. You stand there for a moment, shocked. You never expected this from him, but you wrap your arms around him anyway.

“Thank you.”

“Of course. You deserve it.” You remind him. You know it won’t change the timeline much, but this time, you hope it does something.

After tucking Adrian in, you leave Gut and Chris to play video games until Diane gets home. You head to your room, flipping onto your bed with a sigh. You just hope you did the right thing. You open your phone and head to your voicemails. This has almost become routine.

“Hey babe, it’s me. I’m just calling because I know you had a bad day today and I was thinking…” You close your eyes, as the voicemail plays and you begin to cry. You’ll see him again one day. You have to. You didn’t know how or when, but you had to. You’d figure it out. You’d make a plan.

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gemgirl28 · 2 months

Note

Hi @gemgirl28! From the writing prompt list you posted earlier, may I please request:

32. “I think I’m in love with you, and I’m terrified,” for Zutara!

Thank you, and I hope you’re having a good day!

Hello dear! Thank you! It was a nice (mostly) lazy Sunday 💜 I hope you have a great day as well!

OOOOOO I SEE YOU HERE YES. YES VERY MUCH. Watch this get out of hand SO fast.

32. “I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.”

Katara hastily stuffed her papers in her bag, heart racing, hands shaking. The council room, always so hot and stuffy, felt impossibly small in the wake of Minister Yun's proposal.

Katara had to get out, had to find some fresh air, had to breathe.

She raced through the twisting hallways of the Fire Nation Palace, barely sidestepping servants in her haste to drop her bag in her office. Once deposited, she stood for just a moment, debating the risk of hurting herself is she jumped from her tiny office window and caught herself with the pond water, or if it was worth it.

Minister Yun's dry voice echoed in her ears, and her mind was made up.

The window it was.

She wrenched it open and jumped onto the edge. Just as she was swinging her feet over, one arm already searching for the cool water, someone cleared their throat.

"I know the meetings are bad, but I didn't think we'd quite reached 'jump from a second story window' bad."

Katara froze, holding her breath, as if that would make him go away. How could she be so stupid as to leave her door open?

"Katara? Are you okay?" Zuko asked, fully coming into her office and closing the damned door behind him. He stopped just on the other side of her desk, hands raised as if to reach for her.

She closed her eyes, counted ten slow, steady breaths, and decided she could fake it for just a few more minutes. Just enough to get him out of her office so she could make her escape.

"I'm fine, just wanted some fresh air." Not a lie. "The meetings are... fine." A lie. "I just... needed some air," she repeated, nearly wincing.

"Katara- is this about-"

"Did you need something Zuko?" She interrupted. No one else on his council would dare interrupt the Fire Lord. Then again, no one else on his council could be considered a close, personal friend.

Just a friend. Just- friends.

Still, his brow furrowed at the interruption. He took a cautious step closer, and then another.

"Yes. You- you rushed out of the meeting so quickly, I wanted to check on you."

"I needed some air."

"You said that."

She shrugged, not able to find any other words for the clawing sensation inside her chest. The office was starting to shrink, too, the way the council room had.

"Katara- I'm not going to marry Minister Yun's daughter."

He said it softly, but the force of it still sucked all the air out of the room.

"Why- why not? It would be advantageous, would it not?" She hated the way her voice shook.

Zuko sighed, and took another step closer. "I don't love her. It's important that you know that." Another step. "And after a hundred years of war- after everything the Fire Nation has been through- well, I think I could do worse things than marrying for love." Another step, nearly to her. "You must know that."

"Why does it matter if I know?" She asked on a breath. They both swallowed.

"Because- I think I'm in love with you, and I'm terrified."

"Zuko-" She couldn't find her voice before he kept talking, and she wondered if she'd even said his name at all.

"I do- I do love you. I am terrified, because you mean so very much to me." He took a deep breath. "But I think- if maybe, you thought someday you could feel the same- well, I definitely shouldn't marry Minister Yun's daughter."

"I do."

Zuko froze in place from where he'd nearly reached her, still perched on the edge of the window. "You do-"

"Love you. Already. I love you." Spirits, what a relief it was to say it after all these years. Katara grinned. "And it is terrifying. But- but Zuko, I love you."

"Why haven't you- you never- Katara-" he started, stopping when she laughed.

"Come here and help me down so I can kiss you."

She'd never seen him move so quickly before.

And the next day, when Zuko formally turned down any and all future marriage proposals in favor of marrying for love, Katara thought it still sounded terrifying, but also like she could breathe just a little easier. Especially when Zuko smiled at her.

Send me a prompt and a pairing!

#I did warn you this would get out of hand #and here we are #but my gosh how perfect for them #zutara #zutara ficlet #thanks for the ask love!#thegratitudeworkshop #my asks #my writing

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ofsappho · 1 year

Text

treehouse 🔞 (also available on ao3)

tags: smut, pregnancy, 🔞, mental illness, trauma, eventual happy ending

Dream of the Endless | Lord Morpheus x reader

It's a common story; you meet a tall, dark, and handsome man outside of a club and take him home that night. When he leaves, you don't think you'll ever see him again.

Now, what's less common is what happens a couple of weeks later, when you realize you're pregnant. But you only know his name, if that even is his real name: "Dream".

What exactly are you going to do now?

(title from the song Treehouse by Alex G) (originally posted on AO3)

You don’t usually do this kind of thing.

‘Thing’ here refers to venturing out of your apartment, alone, dressed to the nines and in search of trouble. The kind of thing that every other twenty-something you know does on a regular basis.

But it’s always been too hard for you to gather up the energy for such an effort. Depression can do that.

Tonight, though, you’re trying, even though you’re definitely the only person in this club without anyone else to accompany them.

The party feels like something out of that new Batman movie; bass reverberating through the soles of your sneakers and smoke curling through the air, heavy-fingered and tinged blood red from the colored lights.

You had choked down a panic attack on the walk from the train to the club, only making it down those few blocks of sidewalk by reminding yourself that you can leave whenever it stops being fun, over and over.

The ice in your drink is fully melted and in the whole hour you’ve wandered around, you’ve really only spoken to the very pretty bartender. She complimented your dress, and you would’ve complimented her eyes in return, but you’re aware that she was only being polite and doing her job.

Without much fanfare, you abandon your glass filled halfway with water and halfway with vodka sour next to all the other discarded glasses. This has officially stopped being fun, though whether or not it was ever fun to begin with is up for debate, and you take that as your cue to dip.

Once you’re outside, the cool air a pleasant balm on your sweat-sticky cheeks, you quickly snag a cigarette out of the carton in your purse. A raven watches you struggle to light it.

He’s a curious bird, calm as any human, and you win the staring contest between the two of you. When he cocks his head at the sound of your laughter, you swear he can practically understand you. You keep giggling as you crouch down and offer your shitty lighter to the raven. “Well? Are you gonna help me or just stand there making fun?”

“Matthew has always had a sense of humor.” At the sound of someone’s accented voice, as rich and deep as whiskey, you stand and turn to see a man looking at you and your new corvus buddy.

Oh fuck, he’s beautiful.

You go with beautiful as handsome is definitely the wrong word. The stranger is beautiful in a way that doesn’t quite seem humanly possible, like it breaks your brain a little bit to look at his brilliant eyes, to take in his high, sweeping cheekbones and plush mouth.

“The raven’s name is Matthew?”

“Yes.” You’re tempted to ask him if he, like, has a podcast or maybe records audiobooks. If he doesn’t, he should. He’d do super well.

Seriously. It’s catnip to you. The sound unfurls from his throat with a touch of rasp, but still purer and more resonant than any other voice you can recall.

You’re reminded of what priests say the voice of God sounds like. This is a very weird thing to come to mind when a random guy talks, especially as you aren’t really religious like that. He definitely could get a whole lot of people to do as he wished just by asking, you think. A God needs to have that quality. Or a cult leader.

You swallow down the heat inside that stokes hotter with every moment his bright gaze clings to your face, to the curve of your lips. His structured black coat fits across his proud shoulders well; it looks expensive and he appears to have an awfully good tailor.

You decide to go along with the bit. Bits are fun and talking to this man is exactly the kind of shenanigan you were hoping to stumble across. “That’s a good name. Did you give him that?”

He smiles knowingly. “He named himself.”

That’s funny. It makes sense; ravens are as clever as any person, the Internet says, so someone looking at one of those birds and feeling as though it named itself isn’t totally out of left field.

You hope he elaborates on that, but the stranger doesn’t seem inclined to help you out there. But you don’t want the silence to settle much longer. It might drive him away, and you’d like him to stick around longer. Maybe get his number. “Well, I hope he knows it suits him. Hey. You think you could light this for me? You saw me try it with Matthew, but I don’t think he has enough claws to make it work.” You hold out the lighter with shaky fingers, nervousness fighting desire in your veins.

When he takes it from you, his skin brushes yours. It’s almost electric. “…of course.”

You’ve never felt attracted to someone so fast. The wanting hits you like an avalanche; a dream of his palms on your hips and red marks on your skin from his teeth pours through your mind.

The man cups his other hand over the flame as you lean in, at last lighting your neglected smoke. Your lungs fill with him, not tobacco smoke. His scent, sharp and comforting all at once, makes you just as woozy, just as lightheaded as the nicotine does. “Thank you, I, um, appreciate it. Do you have a name, too?”

“You may call me Dream.”

Your best friend would appreciate his excellent grammar. Clever of him to use ‘might’; if you were a Fae trying to get his real name, he’s answered in exactly the way someone trying to not get fairy abducted should. These are the kinds of tidbits that amuse you, even if you won’t ever use them. So you’ve spent your life hoarding random information like this, just for funsies.

“Your choice of words there is noted, ‘Dream’.” Your smile warms your voice and he steps in a little closer, close enough that you have to tilt your head up a bit to maintain eye contact. Like staring at an eclipse. That’s bad for your eyesight, you tell yourself. But you can’t look away.

His lashes are as black as his thick, undone hair, framing a lidded and darkening gaze.“Were you just leaving?”

Oh fuck yeah. “Um, yeah, not really my scene. Kinda boring, at least for me. It’s a shame; I was hoping to actually make getting out of the house tonight worth it, but. No dice.” You haven’t done this game in quite awhile, but you still remember the rules. A bit of a tease at the end, just to imply that you’re interested. What can you do? He makes you bold, bolder than normal. You want him to want you.

“Pity.” A pause stretches between you and you feel your heart sink into your stomach, your anxiety revving up again. What if he just walks away and leaves you here, embarrassed and in your head for believing someone like you could attract someone like him?

“Do you still wish to make getting out of the house tonight worth it?” Your words sound out of place in his mouth, too modern.

What’s that joke about how some actors in period dramas clearly look like they know what an iPhone is? Dream is apparently the opposite of that. He seems entirely above petty concerns like lamenting the lack of decent hookups.

The discordance has you stifling a giggle.

You dream some more about his hand tangling in your hair and his body covering yours, his knee between your thighs. And the fire, deep in your belly, burns brighter and brighter. “Depends on what we’re doing.”

When Dream smiles, it’s beautiful and uncanny. He looks like a predator, and you’ve stumbled right where he wants you. It’s hot. You’re good with that. “You know what.”

“…yes.”

You can’t really remember how you got back to your apartment - Dream has been far too busy pressing his mouth to yours, devouring the heady, saliva-slick kisses you’re freely offering up, for you to pay attention to something like that.

As soon as you’ve made it inside the front door, he pins you against the wall to wrap an elegant, long-fingered hand in your hair, tipping your face towards him so he can nip at your bottom lip with sharp teeth. “You are… exquisite,” He murmurs against your lips, pupils blown so large that his eyes look like galaxies with an endless black hole in the center, pulling you towards his gravity.

You grow wetter at the sound of the lust roughening up the edges of his polished voice, at the awe in his words. “Please,” you moan as he bites aching marks into the column of your throat that are sure to bruise purple and red tomorrow. You want them to bruise, you want to have something left behind after this hookup ends, proof he was there.

You’re not even sure how to articulate what exactly you’re begging for. That’s beyond what your mind is capable of right now, as his hand fists in your hair and tightens until it’s the perfect amount of slightly painful and you’re gasping, desperate for more. Your hands have twisted into the collar of his coat this whole time and you don’t let go. The feeling of the cloth rounds you and more than anything, you don’t want him to back away.

Dream seems to understand your pleading - he lathes the bruises with his tongue and you would do anything he wanted, as long as he would do that between your thighs. His other hand trails against the swell of your breast, gently caressing them through your thin dress. You arch into his touch, his fingers rolling over your nipple, plucking at it before palming your chest once more.

You’re greedy - you want even more. With a frustrated groan, you shove your dress off about as fast as you’re capable of doing so, getting tangled in the sleeves in your enthusiasm. A whine escapes your chest - seriously?

You’re so horny at this point that any fumbling delay like this might cause a meltdown, especially in front of someone as hot as Dream, but he simply smiles affectionately and untangles you, soothing your ruffled feathers with his calm, steady touch. The dress flutters to the ground in a heap. “Be still,” He admonishes you, before sucking in a sharp breath at the sight of your body bared to him. “Fuck.”

Your underwear is soaked through and it clings to your thighs as you shift, desperately trying to relieve the yearning need inside.

Dream seems transfixed by you, utterly enraptured by your full breasts and the dip of your waist, the soft curves of your hips. Those pretty, blinding eyes almost glow in the dim light of your living room lamp and as his fingers leave your hair to trail down your neck, a line down your clavicle, his touch relishing in the softness of your skin, you’ve never felt more desired.

Then, he meets your round, hungry eyes. “Do you want this?”

“Yes. Yes. Of course,” You pant. He’s moving too slow for you; you yank him towards you again, your mouth vicious as you kiss him. Dream’s still fully clothed, which seems a bit unfair, but there’s something about the intentional vulnerability of standing before him mostly-naked that you secretly enjoy. He has the upper hand at the moment, and you’re actually pretty okay with that.

Impatience and a bratty touch of mischief briefly win out over the urge to please him, to revel in his affections, so you quickly slip away from his grasp and flee towards your bedroom, with Dream hot on your trail.

Before you make it all the way to your bed, still unmade from earlier today, he catches you by your waist, wrapping his hand around your jaw tight enough to leave fingerprints so he can expose the side of your neck to the burn of his lips.

You fully expect him to toss you down on the bed and have his way with you, but Dream lowers you down carefully with one hand cradling the back of your head and his eyes fixed on your face, possession and lust blossoming in his terrifyingly beautiful smile

You need him.

He peels off his clothes quickly. Underneath all those dark, rich fabrics, his lean, muscle-bound torso gleams in the moonlight like a marble statue of some old god. You’ve always loved Ancient Greece and their perfectly-sculpted effigies.

Then Dream is on you again. He sinks to his knees before you and his position doesn’t feel like submission, not when you’ve fully surrendered to him. His mouth trails down your body and his hands can’t stop touching you; you gasp as you writhe in his steady embrace holding you still.

Your underwear gets discarded in some corner of your room - you’ll look for it later, when your hookup leaves.

He hooks one of your legs on his shoulder and buries his head between your thighs. He’s like, really good at eating you out. You’re sort of shocked, because you haven’t had great experiences with this, but his tongue traces your clit and the overwhelming pleasure from Dream’s touch forces a desperate cry out of you.

He chuckles against your pussy, now teasing intentionally as he traces around your clit, around your dripping core, before returning to his task. Dream carefully sinks two fingers inside of you and his groan at how your cunt flutters around his fingers vibrates through you. You’re so full already, the pressure pinching a little, and he’s careful, so careful when he starts to move in and out of you, sucking at your clit to soothe the ache from the stretch.

You’re moaning, and you can’t even breathe, can’t catch your breath; it’s so fucking good, and you feel the beginning of an orgasm coiling inside you already.

Any pain completely dissipates as Dream’s mouth indulges you, tastes you like he wants nothing more than to eat you out for the rest of time. Your body instinctively twitches away, hips trying to escape his touch. The pleasure burns through your body like a wildfire, and the intensity is almost too much, especially when the pads of his fingers find a sensitive spot inside your trembling, hypersensitive cunt. “Fuck, Dream, fuck-“

When he pulls away from you, his mouth is slick with your arousal, and you watch him lick it from his lips. “Did I not say to be still?” He speaks quietly, evenly, a contrast to the needy whines you make at the loss of contact.

But his fingers don’t let up. Dream keeps moving them inside of you, and it’s hard to find the capacity to answer him when he intentionally brushes against that delicate, tender place.

You’d do anything for him to keep going. Anything. “No, you did, I’m sorry, please, I’m sorry.”

He does nothing for a moment; even his fingers pause as you spasm around him. And just when you think he’s going to completely withdraw and punish you for not following his instructions, he absolves you. “Good girl.”

Dream braces his other arm against your hips so you can’t escape how he pleasures you, and even as your body jerks when he enters you again, picking up the pace and fucking you open, you can’t move away. He replaces his tongue on your clit with his thumb, pressing even circles into your sensitive flesh so he can watch your face twisted in ecstasy and the brilliant flush crawling up your tits towards your throat with hungry, star-bright eyes.

Dream needs you undone before him just much as you want him to take you apart.

You’re so wet that it’s obscene, his fingers dripping with you, and the sound your pussy makes with every movement is embarrassingly loud, almost as loud as your moans.

Your impending orgasm sparks back to life as he patiently builds you back up, your thighs trembling and eyes rolling at a particularly forceful thrust. When he fits another finger inside your soaked core, your eyes roll back in your head as you cry out in surprise. It’s too good, the pain and pleasure bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

Fuck, you can feel it, right there, feel it threatening to pull you under like a riptide, and each movement pushes the breath out of your lungs. It takes a minute to realize Dream is matching his thumb teasing your clit with his careful, gentle pushes against that spot inside your pussy. He knows your body so well for someone you’ve never met before, and in his capable, clever hands, you’re so close to coming apart.

He’s still looking at you, completely enraptured by your back arching off the end and your eyes hazy with lust. Dream takes your clit into his mouth once more, tongue flicking against you as he chases your orgasm.

“Thank you, oh my god, I’m gonna come,” You beg helplessly, writhing and squirming against him, your body wound up so tight that it hurts.

“That’s it. Give it to me.”

He commands, and you obey, coming around his fingers with a drawn-out cry. You’re coming, and it eats you alive, the fall flooding through you like lightning. Dream helps you through it, bearing down, so your pussy trembles through your orgasm on his firm, clever hands. You feel yourself gush around him, and he groans at the feeling of it, slowing his fingers pumping in and out of you without stopping altogether, eking out every last bit of your pleasure that he can.

And Dream instinctively knows when you’re done, when you can’t give him any more, so he finally withdraws and licks his fingers clean of your cum.

You can’t totally feel your legs, and you need to finally catch your breath, but you look at him, pleased and benevolent and still desirous of you, and you know you can go another round.

You prop yourself up on shaky arms to meet his filthy, messy kiss; the taste of your salty musk blooms on your tongue, and he wraps his arms around your sweaty, heated body. “Will you fuck me? Please? I want it,” You ask when you break the kiss. You’re a quick study, and Dream seems to like it when you tell him that you want him.

His eyes are almost completely black when he answers you. “Yes.” Dream’s tone is menacing and dark, and fuck, if you don’t drip on your blankets at the promise in his voice.

You like submitting to him, like how he handles your body like it’s his, and before he can push you down, you flip over and sink down on your knees, back arched and face pressed into the bed. “Like this?” You realize you’re asking for permission, which is something maybe you should’ve negotiated beforehand.

But you shouldn’t have worried; he’s very much on the same page. “Yes.”

You wait for him to shift behind you. You can’t see Dream, and the anticipation sends a thrill down your spine. You’re exposed and vulnerable in this position, and he could do anything.

His hands caress your ass, your thighs, your curves, lingering indulgently. It’s as if you’re precious, as if you’re the most holy thing he’s ever touched.

After pressing a single, sweet kiss on the base of your spine, Dream kneels behind you, and you can feel his hips against your ass. He seems intent on soothing the tension out of you, patiently stroking your heated skin until you melt at his touch.

And when you’re soft and pliant, he pushes in.

He’s pretty big, big enough that even after three fingers and an orgasm, you still feel a pinch as he thrusts deeper. You involuntarily make a soft noise of discomfort; you don’t want him to think you’re not enjoying this, to draw away from you. But Dream takes his time, gently opening you up on his dick as you start to relax.

When he finally seats himself inside you, that slight noise of discomfort turns into a deep, contented sigh. You’re so full, your pussy stretched comfortably to its limits, and you go slack against the sheets. Your cum from your last orgasm is soon matched by a new well of arousal from the feeling of his dick in you, heavy and hard and incredible.

And when he starts moving, your pillow muffles your loud moans. He fucks you slowly at first, mindful of how tight you are. It’s so caring, and it works; you enjoy the leisurely build-up much more. Before long, you’re aching for everything else he can give you.

He doesn’t have you entirely out of your mind yet, so you slot your hips back against his to meet his thrusts. And when you clench particularly hard around his cock, Dream also groans. “Alright,” he says with a hint of amusement. “You can have it.”

He fucks you in earnest now, one hand fisted in your hair and holding you down as he moves in you faster and faster, tears forming in your eyes from how ridiculously good it feels. With each push, he takes pieces of your higher functioning abilities with him, so all that’s left is your body responding to his touches, your mind drunk on his dick. Dream is addictive and so completely good at this; he hits just the right angle that torments you with pleasure.

“Holy shit, fuck, that feels-“ you cut yourself off with a long moan as his dick presses against your most sensitive places. But Dream is fed up with the pillow muffling your sounds. He wants to hear them, wants you to scream and moan and cry out as much as you want, and he draws you up off the bed by your hair as he keeps pounding into you.

Your shaky arms barely support you, but you manage.

Dream keeps moving as he hisses into your ear. You can barely focus on what he’s saying, not when he’s stretching you out with each furious push and forcing you closer to your second orgasm of the night. “I need to hear you. You’ll let me hear you,” He promises before biting at your throat, sucking in another mark on your skin where you’ll struggle to conceal it.

“Yes, yes, yes,” You chant. Anything. Anything he wants.

Dream keeps hold of your hair to arch your spine in such a way that every time he enters you, his cock thrusts against that tender bit inside, and your cunt spasms around him.

He wants to hear you. And you let him. Wailing with every brutal thrust, eyes rolling back in your head. God, you don’t want this to end, but you’re not sure you can take much more; he’s already maxed you to your limits with how good Dream can make you feel at once. You can hear his deep grunts as you start fucking yourself back on his dick.

Your clit aches at the lack of contact, and he gently lets you slump against the bed once more so he can slip his hand around your hips and gently play with the sensitive nub.

Your orgasm is back with a vengeance. You edge towards it so quickly that it takes you by surprise, encouraged and beckoned by his fingers moving on your clit in tandem with his cock ruining you. You keep waiting and waiting to go over the edge before realizing that Dream is gatekeeping you from it, cleverly changing up how he fucks you to stave off your orgasm. To torture you. If you were capable of thought, you’d tell Dream he’s being cruel and beg him to let you come.

But you’re cock-drunk and boneless under him, so you take what he gives you with a pained, longing moan. No more pushing back against him, no more pleading. You just lie there and take it, and there’s maybe some saliva dripping out of the corner of your slack mouth. Yikes - hopefully, he doesn’t notice.

Dream can tell you’ve just about hit your limit. “Can I come inside you, sweet girl? Do you want me to?” You probably should’ve asked him about that before you started throwing down; maybe gotten out a condom or checked to see if he was clean.

But you’re on birth control, and really if he pulls out of you now, you think you might start crying for real. You want him to come inside you, to fill up your twitching cunt until he spills out of your spent body. Like. That’s hot as fuck. Suddenly, you need it as badly as you need to come.

“Yes, fuck, please.”

Dream begins fucking you in earnest again, and his fingers never let up between your legs. “Then I need you to come one more time. Do it for me.”

“I- I can’t-“

It’s just out of reach. Even though his cock feels incredible in you, even though your legs are quivering and tears run down your face from the pleasure he forces through your body, you can’t quite come. It’s driving you insane.

You get to the point where you stop making any noise at all, so twisted up in the sensations rushing through you that you don’t have the strength to do anything else besides tremble around him.

And then Dream tips you right over into it with a single, soft sentence, murmured into your ear. “I know you can.”

You come with a choked sound, blood rushing in your ears as you spill over around his dick. He rides you through it, fucking you through this orgasm that’s brutally wrecking you, that’s washed you clean of anything other than feeling Dream deep inside your quaking pussy.

He pounds into you once, then twice, before coming from the sensation of you fluttering around him. You feel his warmth fill you up inside, slick and silky. His cum spills a bit from your spent core when Dream finally pulls out.

He’s shaking, too, as he draws you into a tender embrace. You curl up into him on your side, body aching after it all. “You’re good at that. Like, really good.”

Dream smiles into your shoulder, where he has started pressing fond butterfly kisses into your sweaty, flushed skin. “And you are very good. You were very, very good for me, my dear.” You like being good for him. You have a praise kink in general, but being good for Dream somehow feels better, more meaningful, more special.

Just when you open your mouth to ask if he has any plans for the rest of the evening, he cuts you off with a voice undercut by regret and longing. “I cannot stay, unfortunately. My apologies; I don’t wish to leave you here so suddenly. But I have… to go.”

Oh.

You swallow down the quick flash of sadness.

You’re always a bit emotional after sex, and you like cuddling, but Dream doesn’t owe you any of that. He’s been nothing but polite and considerate, and you’ve just met him tonight. Even if you want him to stay, there’s no reason he should.

You know that the sadness and accompanying feelings of loss and inadequacy will soon build into something more substantial, messed up, and all-encompassing. And you’d rather not have Dream around when the dam breaks. He doesn’t have to do anything, and you have no right to make demands on his time.

You should get his phone number or something. But your phone is somewhere in the living room where you dropped your purse, and you really don’t feel like getting up.

Already your body is starting to crash now that the endorphins are gone, and you realize just how exhausted you are. A stroke of genius comes to mind. “It’s all good, don’t worry about it. You’ll leave your number for me? On the notepad by the door?”

“I- yes, I‘ll do that.” He looks at you for a long moment as if he wishes he could stay longer. Dream’s genuine remorse softens your heart. He’s a good guy, and it’s unfortunate that your time together had to be so short.

“I’ll see you around then,” You murmur quietly, asleep before you get to see him out.

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