#will probably have the last two parts published by the morning

[reiderwriter]

Margaritas and Mistakes pt. 2

Pairing: Spencer x Female Reader

Genre: Smut, just filth really, nothing else. 18+ MINORS DNI!!

Summary: The morning after your night out you wake up and have to come face-to-face with the consequences of your actions. You find you quite enjoy those consequences though.

Warnings: Suggestive BDSM themes, soft!Dom Spencer (I'm a simple woman), daddy kink, dry humping, dirty talk, oral (F receiving), vaginally sex, multiple orgasms, over-stimulation, degradation, name-calling, pet names (baby girl, princess etc.), unprotected sex (no creampie).

A/N: Here's the much anticipated part two for yesterday's fic. Thank you for being patient everyone, and sorry to tease you all by having this completely written before pt 1 was even published but sometimes the anticipation only makes it better lol... Hope you will forgive me 🙏 ALSO! I hit 300 followers on this account yesterday, and I just want to say a massive thank you to everyone who has supported my writing here thus far! I can't do anything to celebrate as I'm on holiday for the next few days but thank you so much ♥️

Check out Part One!

Requests are open, and in the meantime please check out my masterlist!

When you woke up; that morning, you could instantly feel something was different. Not wrong, just different.

It wasn’t that you were uncomfortable, in fact the way the quilts laid on top of you kept you almost deliciously warm in your bed. It wasn’t the general mess of the night before either, as, surveying the room with one half cracked eye, you noted that all your discarded clothes seemed to be either neatly stacked away in the corner or perhaps left in the laundry hamper in your bathroom. The curtains were open, which you guess was somewhat of a change, but you honestly forgot to close them at least twice a week, so that wasn’t what it was.

You left out a quick yawn and decided whatever it was wasn’t as important as sleeping off the absolute killer headache that was currently burning a hole in the back of your head, a constant thumping that you wanted to do your best to avoid for now.

It was when you snuggled back into your sheets and attempted to turn over to find a new position that you realised exactly what it was that was wrong. You weren’t alone.

Cursing yourself for drinking so much you stayed as still as possible, as the man in bed next to you groaned in his sleep and seemed to pull you in tighter to his chest. You weren’t exactly complaining, but you couldn’t help the panic forming in your mind, as you absolutely had no recollection of bringing anyone home.

Scratch that, you had no recollection of getting home yourself at all.

Whoever it was, it was evident that he’d at least somewhat taken care of you. You couldn’t feel the mascara you’d worn last night glueing your eyelids shut, so obviously one of you had had the foresight to remove your makeup, and you honestly doubted it was you. The fact that you were wearing pyjamas, too, was probably a more positive sign. If you did have sex with the man, he’d most likely encouraged you to put clothes back on so you didn’t catch a chill in the night.

And boy did you hope that you had gotten lucky with whoever it was at your back last night. You couldn’t see his face obviously, with your back pressed up against his entire body, but you could feel him and he felt delicious.

He was long, and lean, but you could feel some strong muscles underneath as well. Even in sleep, he had a strong grip on your waist, the pressure of it pulling you back so your ass was directly in line with his crotch. You were almost tempted to shift slightly, to see if it’d give you a few more ideas about who your mystery man could be.

The best thing about him, thus far, however, was his scent. You knew that after drinking all of the alcohol you remembered ordering last night - and perhaps more that you didn’t remember - you absolutely didn’t smell that hot. And after a night of partying and dancing, too, you could almost feel the winter sweat sticking to your skin. Your bedmate, however, smelt absolutely fucking amazing. He had a musky, earthy scent, but it didn’t seem artificial. It felt warm and homely and all you wanted to do was turn around and nuzzle into his neck so you could breathe him indeeply.

But you had no fucking clue who this was, and you were coming up with blanks as to where you could’ve picked him up.

“Think, Y/N, think for once,” you whispered to yourself, chastising yourself for going shot for shot with Emily of all people.

You remembered being in Penelope’s apartment listening to Emily talk about her love of chardonnay, and you remembered the girls promising to find you a man that night. They’d obviously succeeded, but at the cost of your entire memory of the situation.

You thought a little harder again, back to sitting at the table and your stupid little game of fuck, marry, kill where you’d amitted your growing attraction to your office’s resident genius, and then downing a probably near fatal amount of shots to inspire your friends to forget they heard anything, and then… And then it all goes blank.

So you had no clues as to who your mystery man could be, and you didn’t want to risk waking him just to find out. In a last ditch effort, you cracked your eyes open again and reached out for your phone, sitting prettily on your nightstand, plugged in and charging. Whoever this man was, he was a saint, because if you couldn’t remember getting through the door, you definitely didn’t put your own phone on charge.

Trying not to stretch too much, you grabbed the phone and bought it as close to you as possible, shielding your bedmate from the light coming out of it. You immediately opened the messages, and your stomach dropped at what was waiting for you there.

Emily: I TOLF U I WAS A GR8 WING WOMAN!!1! When you two make baby ggeniuses, dont say I dind’t tell you so.

Penelope: Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do! Which is admittedly not a lot, but still!!!

JJ: Remember to take advil in the morning, I’m sure Reid will remind you as well, but you drank a lot tonight, and you never know when we’re going to get called in 🙂

The messages didn’t give you much of the context you needed, especially the ones sent by Penelope and Emily, but there was enough there to work out that you had majorly fucked up. And the sound of his groans from next to your ear told you that you only had around thirty seconds before your theory was tested and your mystery man woke up.

“Mornin’” came the voice from behind you, and if it were possible your heart started beating even faster. It was him.

“Reid! Good morning!” You tried to keep the curiosity and anxiety out of your voice, as you finally turned over to look at him. His sleepy face was one of the most beautiful things you’d ever seen. His hair fell in small waves into his face and you had to stop yourself from brushing it behind his ear for him. There was a five o’clock shadow forming on his face that you’d never seen before and the scruff really suited him. His most distracting feature, however, was his lack of shirt. And the many small love bites that were now forming on his neck.

“How’s your head this morning? I was going to try to get you to take something for it last night, but you wouldn’t let me.”

“Oh my head? It’s fine, totally fine. Nothing to worry about there. Totally not pounding.” You groan and he cracks a smile at your attempt to downplay your self-injury. He grabs your hips and pulls you closer somehow, and you almost panic, ready to place your hands on his chest and push him away, but you’re not quite ready to admit that you don’t remember exactly what you did or didn’t do the night before so instead you push your hands up to his neck and play with his hair.

“Are you going to ask or do you remember?” He smirks down at you, rubbing small comforting circles into your back. You let out a small sigh, a goodbye to those few blissfully peaceful moments.

“Ask what? Ask if I remember climbing into bed with my coworker and leaving some quite pretty marks on his neck or ask if I actually got further than my fantasies have in the last month?” You trace your hand down his neck, stopping at a rather red patch where you can still see some trace of your lipstick from the night before.

“Ask whether or not I’m going to be fair and tell you what actually happened, or keep you in the dark and let your imagination keep running wild.” He lifts his body up, and rests on his side, his arm propping his head up.

You make a sound of protest and attempt to follow his movement but his free hand holds your hips down with a soft pressure, holding you there less with strength and more with the weight of your own curiosity at whatever it is his body is suggesting.

“You begged me last night you know,” he starts, leaning down and whispering it directly into your ear. “To stay. To fuck you like a desperate little whore.” Your legs pushed together now, a sorry attempt to curb the growing need pooling between them, but he didn’t let up.

“You pushed me down on the bed when I didn’t do what you wanted, like a little brat. So drunk out of your mind that I couldn’t touch you, but begging for it like you would die if I didn’t hold you down and let you scream my name.” The hand on your hip moved up and under your pajama shirt, a rather flimsy thing that did nothing to stop his oncoming conquest of your body.

“You made me promise something, you know?” He says just as his hand reaches one of your nipples. He pinches it, hard, as you throw open your mouth in a near silent gasp. Your hips buck involuntarily, and suddenly one of his legs is between yours, pinning you down again so you can’t move as he keeps his attention on your chest.

“Made me promise I would stay and not let you forget. Promise that, when you woke up in the morning, I’d fill you in on everything you did, everything you asked for.” He keeps his voice as low as a whisper and you can feel his breath on your neck, the contact sending a shiver down your spine, arching your back and pushing your breasts further into his hand.

“S-Spencer-” you beg with just that one word for more. But he stills his hand and moves it out from under your top.

“But if you remember, then we’re finished here right. I can go?” He looks down at you, pouting now and you hesitate for a second before answering him.

“I don’t remember. I don’t remember anything, so please…” you don’t quite know what you’re begging for at that point, but if you’d filled him in on any of the jucier details of your fantasies as of late, then you were in for a very fun morning.

He shifted his weight again, this time pushing your hips together, and holding his chest up with his arms stacked on either side of your head, you looked up at him again as one of his hands came down and encouraged your leg to wrap around his waist, allowing him to push even more of his weight down into you.

His head moved back to your ear as he began rocking his hips tantalisingly slowly into yours, dry humping into you.

“At first, you didn’t even know it was me. Just fell back into whatever body you thought would pay you the most attention. Rocked yourself back into me on the dancefloor, right where anyone else could see what a little whore you were being.” Despite the layers of clothing that separated you and the torturious pace, you felt your arousal growing by the second as you listened to him recounting the events of the prior night.

“And even when you realised it was me you didn’t fucking stop. Kept teasing me and playing with me in public, in front of our friends.” He growled a little bit then, obviously still angry about your actions the night before. You were bucking your hips up to match his movements now, teetering close to the edge of an orgasm. He hadn’t even really touched you yet, and you were like putty in his hand, ready to be molded into whatever shape he wanted you in.

“I drove you home, kept my hands off you, I was perfectly ready to let you forget the entire thing, but you couldn’t keep your mouth shut could you.” His hand was on your ass now, encouraging you to keep up your pace and deepening the contact between the two of you. You could feel his entire length pressed into you, and you wanted it inside you.

“Told me you wanted me to slam you against a wall and finger-fuck you, wanted to be my cheap little whore, wanted me to use you,” he groaned into your ear and bit down on your neck a second later, and you moaned, the pain and pleasure mixing together deliciously.

And then he stopped, pulled away and rolled off of you, and you cried out at the loss of contact when you were so close to your release.

“What is it, baby? You want more?” He smirked from his new position, sat up on the opposite side of the bed, just far enough out of reach that you had to crawl over to him.

And so you did. So desperate for the man, you climbed into his lap, and begged him for any reciprocation with your moans as you began grinding down on his leg again.

“Does my little slut want to cum?” He asked, his hands placed firmly and flat on the bed sheets either side of him, leaning back softly to watch your attempts to entice him into touching you again.

“Get off and strip down to your panties,” he demanded, and you happily complied, not caring where the offending pieces of clothing landed before jumping back into his lap. Apart from his lack of shirt, he was still in all of his clothing from the night before, a pair of loose sweatpants and boxers, and you relished the feeling of the fabric against your legs as you wrapped your legs back around him.

“I want you to use my leg to get yourself off baby, do you think you can do that?” He asked you, and you immediately nodded your head, desperate to start, but his hands on your hips stopped you.

“Use your words baby, answer me nicely.”

“Yes, fuck, yes I want to do that, please,” you whimper and he loosens his grip a little bit.

“Yes, daddy,” he demands and your eyes shoot up to his. Seeing that he is completely serious you feel yourself only growing more aroused as you stutter out another reply.

“Yes, please daddy.” He smiles at you again now and lets go of you completely, resting his hands on the bed again. Your hands come up to his shoulders and you begin your movements. You push your chest directly against his, desperate for some of your bare skin to be met with his, your aching nipples rubbing up against the plains of his chest in a near perfect way. You grind down into his thigh like its a lifeline, your every attempt to set an even tempo foiled by your absolute desperation to reach your climax.

He keeps talking to you throughout, mixing the sweetest of affirmations with the most disgusting insults, both driving you more and more crazy as the minutes tick by.

“Look at this disgusting little puddle my little girl has left on my pants. You’re so desperate for me, aren’t you my sweet little whore?” You moan out a reply, but he wants your words again. Delivering a painful slap to your ass he asks again, and this time you eke out a reply.

“Yes, daddy, I’m a nasty little whore, I want you so badly, daddy.” You whimper, the words and the shock of the slap bringing you ever-closer to your first release. Your arms are wrapped around his back now, scratching and marking him as if to claim territory, each one of his sharp-intakes at the pain driving you closer and closer until you finally feel yourself fall off the edge.

“So good for me baby,” he presses a kiss to your temple as you collapse into his arms, breathless from all of your hard work.

“I didn’t even have to touch you, and look at you. Looking like a fucked out whore, just for me baby girl," he whispered into your ear as he lifted you up, gently laying you back down on the bed.

“You think you can still do some more, baby?” He asked, and you nodded. This time it was enough for him, because he instantly shed the rest of his clothes and moved between your legs.

“You look so beautiful like this, baby. Gonna take care of you okay, just relax,” he kissed the words into your neck and started trailing kisses the entire way down your bosy. He paused briefly to show your breasts some attention, swirling his tongue around one nipple while he teased, pinched and pulled the other one, eventually switching to give them equal love.

But he didn’t stop at your breasts, pressing kisses down the length of your stomach before reaching your panties again. He looked up at you from his position before pulling them down your leg, making sure that your entire attention was devoted to him. He didn’t have to try hard, as your thoughts had been filled with him ever since he’d woken that morning, and you found you were quite content for it to stay that way forever.

He lifted your hips and slipped the offending piece of fabric down your legs. You shivered at the loss of contact at first, the sodden lace having been stuck to you after your desperate movements earlier. You were bare for all of five seconds before he dove into you, nudging your clit with his nose while he pressed kitten licks against your slit. You moaned out, not caring about controlling your volume, and didn’t stop as he continued licking and kissing like he was a man starved.

His tongue eventually made its way up to your clit and that’s when you lost it, bucking your hips wildly up into his mouth in a desperate attempt to use his face to get yourself off, but one of his large hands pinned you down again. He didn’t let up, rolling your clit around his tongue, bringing his other hand up to press a finger into you, beginning to pump in and out.

You didn’t even feel the build up this time, just closed your eyes as your hips jerked up once, twice into his face, not even a breath escaping your lips for what felt like an eternity as he let you ride through your second orgasm. He didn’t stop, but he removed his mouth from your centre, his fingers still pumping into you as you began twitching underneath him.

“Good girl, so fucking good for me. You’ve got one more left, right baby? One more left to give me, hmm?” He asked, but you couldn’t answer anymore, just nodding your head as best you could and bucking into his hands like a woman gone mad.

“Perfect baby, open your legs wide for me, okay?” His voice was gentle now as he gave his cock a few pumps, removing his fingers and flipping you onto your knees, putting you in the perfect position for him.

“You have to tell me if you want me to stop, okay princess? Tell me if it’s too much and we can end this right here,” he gently pulled the hair away from your face and pressed a final kiss to the back of your neck, finally lining his cock up with your glistening hole.

Then he’s finally pushed into you, and you could've sworn you saw stars. He fully sheathed himself inside of you and didn't move for a minute, choosing instead to press small kisses against your neck and back whilst you adjusted to his considerable length. He didn’t have to wait long though, as you could feel yourself practically dripping around him, making even more of a mess of your sheets.

He picks up a steady pace, pulling out halfway and then snapping his hips back into you with such force you’re grabbing your pillows with a vice grip. You tried to push your head back down into the pillow to soften your moans as well, but he grabbed you by your hair, wrapping it around his wrist, using his new leverage to pull you back onto his dick with each stroke.

“Wanna hear you baby girl, don’t fucking hold back,” he grunted into your ear, the new angle of his hips hitting that deep spot within you that had you flooding the sheets almost instantly, pushing out wave after wave of cum as you moan his name like an animal driven mad.

“That’s right baby girl, fucking cum around my cock, get it nice and wet,” he continues pounding into you, pulling out more and more of his length each time to hit deeper and deeper each time he returns to you. Your legs were practically shaking then at the overstimulation, your tongue hanging out of your head as you failed to form any coherent thought except “yes.”

His hips start faltering quickly and you knew he was close. A few more snaps of his hips and he pulled out of you completely with a small curse, shooting his load up your back as he released his hold on your hair gently. He collapsed on top of you, his arms around you as he kissed his way up your spine.

The two of you sat there for a few minutes, the only sound that of your ragged breaths as you both attempted to catch your breath. After a few minutes he pulled away, and you heard him retreat to the bathroom. He came back swiftly with a washcloth and cleaned the two of you up, wiping his cum from your back and chest and doing his best to clean up your cunt without overstimulating you even more.

“Baby, we have to go to the bathroom now, you need to pee,” he gently turns you over and you whimper at the movement. He presses a gentle kiss to your cheek and you push yourself up to a sitting position next to him, unhappy that he’s being so responsible now after possibly ruining you for other men forever.

“You’re going to have to carry me, you know,” you grumble, resting your head against his shoulder. “My legs are still shaking like I’ve just walked a thousand miles with no rest.”

He chuckles at that and wrapped your legs around him, picking you up swiftly. He didn’t move immediately, just content to have you in his arms for a few seconds. You looked down into his eyes and you felt it too. Like you’d never want to be anywhere else but right here, in his arms. You pressed a gentle, sweet kiss to his lips and you felt his smile as he returned it.

“Come on, Y/N, it’s not the first time I’ve had to force you into the bathroom and I doubt it will be the last,” he laughs, and you laugh with him. And in that moment you realise that he has you for life.

--X--

🏷️: @ihavenotitlesblog @gibbsgirl7 @beefyboisbeefybongos @bluecandycake @piecsesrising @dim-i-try @simp4f1 @marylovesevanpeters @daddy-dotcom @alondralolll @thearsonistrat @eddiemunsonssweetoltatties

(I know some of you didn't ask to be tagged but you asked for a pt. 2 so thought it couldn't hurt, lmk if you want to be untagged!)

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #maturereiding #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fandom

[multifandomgirl08]

Tu me promets (Daniel's POV) - D.R. #3

Sugar Daddy!Daniel Ricciardo x Fem!Reader

Summary: He was sorry, for not calling, for sleeping with you, and then running as if you meant nothing to him.

Warning(s): Implied sexual content

A/N: As per pole results this will get published first. The Reader's POV will be up next week. The title translates to you promise me. Points to anyone who can spot the Gossip Girl reference from season 6.

Words: 3.3k

Previous Part ← Reader POV The Arrangement Masterlist

Daniel knew he was being a coward, not texting you back after you had gotten home, not calling you for two months. It was a lot for him to process all while being back in Formula 1 driving for AlphaTauri. It wasn’t Red Bull but Christian and Helmut through it would be a good stepping stone for him after last year.

Yet here he was showing up at your apartment building to try to talk to you. He was pretty sure that you would slam the door in his face before he was even able to get a word out. He waved at the security guard before going up the elevator to your floor.

He knocked once he was at your door. He didn’t have to, he did have a key to your apartment but he wouldn’t do that. He may have bought the apartment but it was your space and he wasn’t just going to let himself in after not talking to you.

It took a few moments for the door to open. There was something punishing in that silence of waiting. It wasn’t long before you stood in front of him in his pink Enchanté jumper, black shorts, and thigh-high socks. The bouquet of white Japanese Camellia flowers that were in his hands suddenly felt heavy, like it was weighing down his arm.

“Can I come in?” He asked.

You eventually let him through the door not saying anything. Daniel couldn’t help but take in the apartment after not having been here for a while. It was very well lived in, you had candles, books, and photos set up all around. This had become home for you. He saw a throw from Hermés over the back of the armchair he helped you pick out. He knew he was the only one to sit on it.

There was a container of takeaway on the glass and silver coffee table, and you were watching Gossip Girl on the TV.

“I’m sorry.” He blurted. He was sorry, for not calling, for sleeping with you, and then running as if you meant nothing to him. It was wrong and you deserved better, not just from him but in general.

He tried to hand you the flowers but you wouldn’t take them from him. His eyes fell on an empty vase by one of the windows that looked like a handbag. He walked over in small steps and placed the flowers in there, just happy for them to be out of his hands.

He walked closer to you but kept the distance between you, leaning against the back of the cream couch, his legs folded on top of one another.

“Look,” He started to say. He could feel your eyes on him, running up and down what he was wearing probably tuning out his words just to not seem rude or something. “I know I shouldn’t have left the morning after. I just…”

Come on mate, out with it. She won’t hear you out all damn day. He thought to himself.

“It was a lot for me, to know how I felt and then do that. Be with you.” It was the only thing he felt he could say. It was his truth. He never expected that he would get a chance to be with you or that you would even want him like that.

“So, what does that mean?” It was fair of you to ask him that. What did that mean?

“I don’t know.” He answered honestly. “I pay you… to spend time with me, in gifts, and clothes, and all this other stuff.”

He hated bringing up the money. Money bought him things, it wasn’t meant to be used on people.

“I won’t pay you to sleep with me. It’s not right.” He blurted out. Daniel had always tried to be a nice guy, and he just couldn’t use you like that.

“Who says that you’d be paying me to sleep with you?” You asked as if there was nothing wrong with that. He can’t do that to you. He can’t treat you like you mean nothing to him. “Maybe I just want to.”

Daniel can’t help but shut his eyes at those words. “But you shouldn’t.”

“What I mean is… I can’t keep doing this because of the money.” It was never about the money when it came to you. Yes, he liked buying you things and spending money on you. But there was more in it for him. “I care too much for you now, for it to be about the money.”

“Can you think about our relationship for a second… without the money.” You asked him.

Think about their “relationship” without the money. Their whole arrangement started because of money.

“What are you talking about?” He asked.

"What would we do while you were in town? And I don't mean the shopping." Your question puzzled him a little.

Without the money? He thought. That wasn’t shopping?

"Dinner, and we'd go out to hang out with my friends, maybe watch a movie or something." He finally managed to get out.

Come to think of it he had never met your friends, he never tried to insert himself into your life thinking that there was no way that he would fit. Always busy with his career, media obligations, and his friends. It was easier for him to try to find a way to pull you into his world, without inserting himself into yours.

"What am I to you Daniel? What do you call me in all your notes?" You asked. It was like there was an odd shift in the room. Everything felt slower, almost hazy with how dark it felt in the apartment.

"You... you're my girl." He struggled to get the words out. He had only said those words out loud once, before that, it was always either writing them down on paper or in a text message. Saying it now felt strange on his tongue. 

"Why do you call me that?" You drew out of him.

As you walked closer Daniel couldn’t help but swallow down his breath. His hands felt hot like he had just gotten out of the car after an intense session on the track.

"Because you’re mine." He whispered, "I like spoiling what's mine." He still didn’t know what that meant for the two of them. Calling you his was one thing, but he knew that he had no ownership of you whatsoever.

Feeling the press of your body against his chest made him nervous. All he wanted was to get out of the hoodie that he was wearing. It would make him less hot, and make it easier for him to breathe. He felt you moving his hands to your hips, just laying them over the soft fabric of your shorts.

"It's okay, Daniel." You whispered brushing their noses together. "You can have me." The invitation felt too good to be true.

It was too easy to pull you to the couch and let himself get lost in the feeling of your lips. Two months without it. You were a drug in the best way, the best high he could ever get. How had he let himself believe that he could live without the feeling of you in his arms and the taste of your lips on his?

Coherent thoughts and feelings didn’t matter while he held you to his chest.

“You’re perfect for me,” He praised you letting his lips trail over your neck. You were trouble and he knew that he was done for.

At some point in the evening, both of you had moved to the bedroom. He was leaning back against the headboard, letting his eyes wander around the room taking in the contrast of soft creams and dark black accent pieces. A phone charger and a few jewelry pieces cluttered the nightstand to his left.

His fingers fiddled with the silver Tiffany bracelet that you were wearing, letting himself get lost in the feeling of your skin against his, seeing your hair a mess, and light bruises start to show on your neck.

"Can you promise me something?" You asked him.

He gave you a slight nod. He wasn’t sure what he could promise you. A wonderful life, a diamond ring one day? Okay, maybe he was getting ahead of himself by thinking about a diamond ring.

"If we keep doing this," You said, pointing at the two of you. "Promise me that you know it's not about the money."

So it hadn’t been about the money for her? He couldn’t help but question. He still paid for things for you, food, clothes, even if he was the one who was picking things out to give to you. Money was the thing that held them together. 

"But isn't that why this all started for you," He asked. "Because of the money."

"Yes, when I was in school." You said. School. Right. You had been in college when you met. How could he forget? "But I'm out of college now, I can find a job.”

Find a job? He didn’t like the sound of that. That would mean that if they kept this, even if it was in some small way he would have to work around not just his schedule but yours as well. There was no way.

“Maybe even take over paying the rent on this place." You continued.

Pay rent. He didn’t pay rent on this place. He had bought it. He always saw it as an investment, he put down the 5 million on it, and if this hadn’t worked out he could always rent it out to someone. It wasn’t like he needed the extra income.

"I don't pay rent on it." He admitted, scratching at the back of his neck. "I bought it."

He looked over at you to see that you were a little shocked at his confession. Maybe he should have told you that when he had gotten you the place.

"What about you?" You asked changing the subject. "What started all this for you?"

That was a hard question to answer without going into too much detail. Everything in his career felt like it was falling apart and in some ways his life as well.

"I needed a change, something to make me feel like I was worth something. A priority if you will." That felt like the easy way to explain it. He hadn’t felt like he made himself a priority in a long time. Being with you made him feel like he was worth something. It was always time and energy well spent. You made him feel like he was worth everything after just a few hours together.

He felt you move closer to him in the sheets, sitting on his lap as your bare thighs brushed against each other. Your hair pooled around your face a bit as he tried to stop himself from pulling you closer. You may have just been wearing only his hoodie in bed but he could only control himself so much.

"You are worth so much." You said to him. He felt you lean closer to him. Touching your foreheads together. "All the money in the world can't compare."

God, that was cheesy. He couldn’t stop himself from laughing even if he tried.

Daniel let himself enjoy the feeling of you against him. The supple feel of your hands on his skin, the way your hair was just slightly brushing over his arm. Small things he hadn’t let himself enjoy before.

"I think that if we keep doing this," He started to say. He was slow to pull back from you. A the same time he wanted to cherish feeling you against him. "You need to know that it'll be more for me than it was."

He was making this choice for you. He couldn’t do this if you wanted to keep it casual. He needed it to be all or nothing. Full relationship. He couldn’t live with just having pieces and moments with you anymore.

"I understand." You said as he felt your fingers running over the skin close to his collarbone.

"No, like, I have feelings for you. Real feelings. And I can't do this if you don't feel anything for me in return." He stopped your hand where it was. 

He wasn’t willing to say the words I love you. He didn’t want you to shut him down if you heard them, he couldn’t handle it.

"I do have feelings for you, but I never thought that you would let me get close enough to see if there was more than attraction." Wait? What? He thought… it wasn’t just him then. He didn’t have to treat this like it was only based on what he felt for you.

“When did it become more for you? Italy? Meeting Scotty and my friends?” He couldn’t help but wonder. Why had you fallen for him if it wasn’t to do with the money? 

When you brought up the story of him insisting on walking closer to the curb on the street he couldn’t help but feel a light blush make his cheeks warm. He was just being a gentleman. Doing what he thought he should since it was late at night and they were in New York. He didn’t want you walking close to the sidewalk in case something happened. Who knew what could happen if you did?

“That’s when I knew it was more, I knew that I couldn’t make you give me more, so I let you give me what you could, until Monaco.” He appreciated that for a while she had been understanding of the fact that he didn’t want to just jump into something. “By then I was sick of waiting. I needed more… So I took it.”

Hearing that being in Monaco made you want more had made him see that it was more gradual for you than it was for him. He had been apprehensive to share his feelings for you, but now that he knew that you felt something for him, he wanted to be with you more than ever.

"I guess that means that we're both in this." You half asked.

"This means," He said, quickly flipping you onto your back. He made sure to rest his arms against the mattress to keep most of his weight off you. You let out a loud laugh. "That since you’re mine, I get to keep taking care of you."

You were quick to lock your legs around his back while he lightly trailed his lips over your neck.

"Know what that means?" He whispered, nudging your neck with his nose before moving up your neck. You felt perfect underneath him.

"There is... no way... I'm letting you... get a job." He admitted between moving to the other side of your neck lightly digging his teeth into the skin. Nope, not happening ever. You were his and he didn’t want you working if he could help it. Damn the fact that you paid for your schooling.

Daniel had let his eyes pear over to the window to see that it had grown dark at some point. Between the talking, the couch, and ending you in your bed. You had turned the lights off and Daniel had settled in against one of the pillows that you had on your bed. He had felt you move closer to him in bed, he turned over onto his side instead of his normal sleeping position on his stomach.

“Don’t worry, babe.” He put his arm around your waist, muttering into your hair before kissing your forehead. “I’m not going anywhere.”

It was a promise that he intended to keep. He let the sound of your breathing settle him to sleep. It had been the first time since Monaco that he had been able to fall asleep without the sound of a podcast or music filling his ears.

The feeling of the sun in Daniel’s face had woken him up. He was under a thick duvet, his pillow crushed in his arms, and a warm body settled against his side. Daniel was careful to roll over in bed. He knew that this wasn’t his bedroom on the farm in Perth, his bedroom in his Monaco apartment, or the house in LA. However, waking up here didn’t seem out of place.

He looked over to the other side of the bed, past messed-up white sheets, and saw strands of hair gracefully falling over a pillow. You were still asleep, turned towards him.

He didn’t want to leave the bed, but he thought maybe it would be nice if he at least made you a cup of coffee. He pulled himself out from under the warm sheets, letting the cold air of your apartment hit his chest.

As he moved through the apartment he couldn’t help but rub his eyes. He looked through some of the books that were on your shelves, pictures of you with your friends that he didn’t recognize at parties and out at dinner.

Eventually, he makes his way to the kitchen, looking through cabinets and opening drawers before finding the coffee mug you always use. His eyes fall on the built-in coffee maker and he can’t help but think that it looks complicated. Buttons and screen. Are there instructions lying around somewhere?

“How do you work this damn thing?” He asks no one. He’s on his last try using the machine before giving up and just using Uber Eats to order Starbucks or something. He’s washed the mug and it’s still dripping wet when he hears what can only be your feet against the light hardwood floors.

He looks up seeing you and can’t help but smile. You look gorgeous in the pink dress that you’re wearing. He places the cup down trying to avoid one of the bigger puddles of water by the sink that is facing the living room.

“How's my girl this morning?” He asks. As you get closer Daniel can’t help but reach for you. Now that he can touch you as much as he wants, he’s not sure if he’ll ever stop.

He leans down to press a light kiss on your cheek.

“Pretty good.” He can feel the smile in your words.

Everything after that feels easy, like the whole time he’s known you this is what the relationship has been like. He can’t help but stand there for a few moments, in awe of being here with you. He pulls his hand away from your cheeks, looking down at you as you peek up at him through your eyelashes.

“I know I bought the place, but can you please show me how to use this thing?” He says gesturing to the coffee maker.

You laugh pulling away from him just a bit before kissing his cheek. He can’t help the smile that creeps through. God, does this feel right. He watches as you roam around the kitchen making both of you coffee. The little sound of you humming to yourself, as he takes in the thought of being able to enjoy this all the time, not just when he lets himself indulge in his selfish whims.

As he’s watching you, he’s surprised to see you pull out oat milk from the fridge and put it into what he can only assume is his cup of coffee.

You quickly give it to him and all he can say is, “Thanks, babe,” Taking the cup from you.

He lets himself pull you to the couch needing to feel you close. It’s always been easy to talk to you, never having to miss a beat with anything that either of you brings up. Movies, music, anything. It just flows for both of you. He’s holding his coffee cup in one hand while the other is running over your skin, making little invisible patterns that he’s not paying attention to.

He can’t believe that some part of him thought it would be right to leave and run from this. It felt right, talking to you that night by the bar. From the moment he met you, he knew that he was done for.

SD!Danny Ric Series: @hc-dutch, @taylorslovesswifties13, @thatsusbitch, @laneyspaulding19, @basicallyric, @divya14, @zafetycar, @brekkers-whore, @cixrosie, @taytaylala12

#SD!Danny Ric Series #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo x you #dr3 x reader #dr3 imagine #f1 imagines #f1 imagine #f1 x reader

[dfortrafalgar]

I'm Losing You

Having a family isn't always as easy as fairy tales make it seem.

Warnings: Read chapter 1 for warnings.

Additionally, I've been getting a lot of (understandable) messages concerned about the wellbeing of our lovely reader and Law, so I made a helpful little graph just to document the overall progression of the story and where you are so far as of this chapter :)

Do with this what you will <3

Taglist: @phsycochan | @mirillua | @augustanna | @chaixsherlock

Chapter 8

[Prev] [Next]

Law’s entire world was curled up on a hospital bed, an IV fluid drip in her hand and her eyes closed tightly shut, afraid that if they opened they’d have to relive the reality of the situation all over again.

You had continued bleeding throughout the car ride to the hospital, rendering the impromptu toilet paper pad completely ineffective.  Both what was left of that and your underwear were placed in a biohazard container, and you were placed in a fresh pair of hospital garments with a maxi pad that really operated similar to a diaper.  The bleeding also made you incredibly weak and lightheaded, leaving Law to sprint into the emergency room, grab a wheelchair, and bring you inside that way.

When he woke up this morning, he never would’ve guessed he would be seeing you in a hospital bed in the small emergency patient room.  You had showered and eaten breakfast, kissed him and pet Bepo.  Now you were actively expelling what was most definitely a miscarriage.

A gentle knock resounded outside the shut door.  You didn’t even move in reaction, staying inhumanly still with your eyes closed.  The door opened regardless however, and Law was met with the friendly, yet somber, face of your gynecologist.  Robin entered the room with a clipboard in her hand.  Law recognized her instantly, not as his wife’s gynecologist, but as a former classmate in medical school.  He never thought that she’d be the one taking care of this entire situation, and part of him was regretful that she had to see this side of him.

“Small world, huh?” Law asked, though his voice lacked any enthusiasm.

“Indeed it is, I was just reading the latest paper you published.  I was wondering how you were doing after residency,” the woman responded.

Law huffed with a minimal bounce of his shoulders.  “You could probably guess how I’m doing.  But, thank you for taking the time to drive here from downtown.”

“Of course, it was oddly good timing.  I have no patients at the clinic for the rest of the day.”  Robin’s lips pursed all of a sudden however, as she got down to business.  “I would like to talk to you privately, if that’s alright with you.”

The man’s eyes narrowed in concern.  “Why privately?”

Her voice lowered to a whisper.  “I’m not sure your wife is in a stable emotional state to hear what I have to say.”

With the way you hadn’t moved since you arrived, your IV drip slowly administering your fluids and a clip on your finger monitoring your pulse and oxygen levels, Law was starting to wonder if you had stressed yourself into a deep sleep.  He didn’t want to wake you to find out.  Instead, he quietly followed Robin out into the hallway, asking a nurse at the front desk to monitor your room for him.  He followed his former colleague into a small meeting room, where she shut the door behind the two of them for complete privacy.

“Law, I know you can handle the more… gritty side of things, so I’m going to be completely blunt with you,” she began, covering her clipboard of papers with her hands.  “I’m sure you’re already very aware, but your wife is currently undergoing an eight week miscarriage.  Her follow-up appointment from last week was supposed to be in two days, but clearly, we were correct in the possibility that she was seven weeks along when we couldn’t detect a heartbeat.”  It was then that she moved her hands, shuffling through the papers in her clipboard before producing a copy of your patient assessment and a small, enclosed envelope.  “Before I begin, I would like to ask you a few questions.  I was informed that you had blood work and a semen analysis done to confirm your fertility, correct?”

The non-professional side of Law felt slightly uncomfortable discussing the results of his semen analysis with his former residency colleague, but he knew this was crucial information.  He nodded, folding his tattooed hands above the table.  “Yes I did.  My hormone panel from the blood test came back completely normal without any anomalies, and the semen analysis showed a completely normal sperm count.”

Robin nodded, opening the envelope as she listened to him speak.  “Understood, so it’s safe to say you are fertile.”

“I would assume so,” he confirmed.

The black-haired woman produced a small set of photographs from the envelope.  “With that confirmed for me, I would like to show you these photos from your wife’s ultrasound last week.”  She laid out the small assortment of photographs, but held one down with her hand and used her pen to point out the barely-identifiable contents of the image.  (Which Law was grateful for, as he admittedly had no idea what he was looking at.  His brief rotation in gynecology did very little to cement the process of a uterine ultrasound.)

“This large black space is the amniotic fluid surrounding the embryo,” she described, moving the capped end of her pen around the space.  “This white blotch here is the embryo at around six weeks gestation, which I theorize is when it ceased development.  As you can see, it’s still attached to the wall of her uterus.”  Two taps of the pen against the image punctuated her statement.  “This area surrounding the amniotic fluid is the uterine tissue.”  Robin looked up at Law.  “Understood?”

It took a brief moment, but Law finally nodded his head.  “Yes.”

Silently, she moved the first image out of the way and replaced it with another one.  “Now I would like to draw your attention to this one.”

Law leaned forward in his seat, assessing the new image.  It looked completely different than the first, and he quietly waited for Robin to begin to describe what exactly he was supposed to be focusing on.

“This was taken at the beginning of the ultrasound.  My technician placed the transmitter on the left side of her abdomen before moving it toward the approximate location of the uterus to detect the fetus.  We were able to see a glimpse of her left ovary during this time.”  Once again, the pen tapped a specific area of the image.

Law’s heart rate increased.  “Please don’t tell me what I think you’re about to tell me.”

Robin shook her head.  “Not cancer,” she confirmed.  “However, do you see this patch of tissue right here?”  She circled the area.

He didn’t, really, but he nodded his head to urge her to continue.  

“It can’t be confirmed without surgery, but I have a strong suspicion that this is endometrial tissue.  I reviewed some of her patient notes and recalled certain appointments where she would inform me of abnormally heavy periods, but she never mentioned anything more specific, such as intense pain during menstruation, so it never seemed to affect her life outside of that.  But looking at her ultrasound images, I’m highly suspicious that she may have endometriosis, which can greatly negatively impact fertility.”

Law clenched his jaw.  “What kind of surgery is done to diagnose that?”

“We would confirm the diagnosis with a laparoscopy.  A small cut is made in the naval, and a thin instrument, similar to a camera, is inserted into the incision to scope out potential endometrial tissue.  In many circumstances, a similar laparoscopic method is used to surgically remove this endometrial tissue, however we would need a definitive diagnosis in order to perform this with confidence.”  Robin was stone-faced as she explained.

Law had a million questions racing through his mind.  He wished he could sit and ask all of them, but the most pressing one forced its way out of his mouth first.  “Will she ever be able to have children?”

“After a successful recovery from this miscarriage, and a successful recovery from laparoscopic surgery to remove endometrial tissue, if that is the case, then yes, her chances of becoming pregnant will remain.  However, women who experience at least one miscarriage have a higher likelihood of experiencing more, so you must take this into account if you decide to try for conception again.”

He nodded.  “I understand.”

Robin collected her paperwork, reviewing your patient chart once more.  “Other than the potential for endometriosis, her physical health is perfect.  There would be no other reason to me why she wouldn’t be able to have children, other than this one big issue.”

Law stayed silent as she explained.  He stood up as she did and followed her to the door, blindly keeping pace behind her as he was led back to your room.  The door was pushed open slowly so as to not potentially disturb you.  The nurse from prior stood from her seat, entering the hallway and quietly whispering to Law.

“She fell asleep, her vitals are good, however she should remain on fluids for a while longer.  Her blood pressure was lower than normal and her iron levels were reduced,” explained the nurse, who’s own eyes were creased with a sympathetic concern.

Law gave a curt nod.  “Thank you very much for staying there.”

“Of course, it’s my pleasure.  Come back to our desk if you need anything,” she replied before leaving to continue her work.

Robin held her clipboard under her arm.  “I’m going to return to my office and write a referral for a diagnostic laparoscopy, but I won’t make the official call until she gives me her full permission.  Does that sound good?”

Law nodded, rendered completely mute.

“Call my clinic if you need anything at all.  Tell them who you are, and I’ll make sure your calls get sent right to me.”  Robin was about to turn on her heel, but she looked back once more at the forlorn man.  “I don’t usually do that for my patients, but I know you, Law.  I know how genuine you are.  I can see how much you love your wife and how the both of you are eager for a successful pregnancy.  I want to do everything in my power to help you achieve that.”

Law inhaled a shuddering breath.  “Thank you, Robin, I… I appreciate that.”

She nodded her head, finally turning and pacing down the hallway.  Law entered your room once more and closed the door behind him.  He stood at the foot of your bed, following the hose from the IV bag down to where it was connected into the skin of your hand, taped in place to prevent its movement.  Your face was tucked into your arms, shielding your grief from the world.  The pulse monitor was moved from your index finger to your middle finger, constantly giving readings of your blood oxygen and iron count.

Law took his seat again, resting his elbows on his knees and dropping his head into his hands.  He only picked his head up to look at the digital clock on the wall.  It was already almost 5:00 PM.  He shoved his hand in his pants pocket and took out his phone, opening his text messages.

Hey, Shachi, can you or Penguin go to my apartment and feed Bepo?  If you could take him for a walk, too, that’d be really appreciated.

It didn’t take long for his phone to buzz with a response.

Dumb Orca

Yea of course. everything good????

Law sighed.

I’ll explain everything later, but we won’t be home for a little while.

Dumb Orca

Ight, bet. hope youre good

Law did really not want to explain the events of the day over text.  He placed his phone back in his pocket before eyeing your bag that was laying against the leg of his chair.  He reached down and fumbled quietly for your own phone, lifting it from your bag and illuminating your screen.  He input your passcode and glanced through your own texts.

Ika-chan

Hey girlie is everything alright???  Law came in to grab your bag

Ika-chan

Text me back as soon as you get this, i’m really worried!!!!!

Ika-chan

I love you boo xoxo

Nami Swan

Hey babes u left ur lunch in the kitchen fridge

Nami Swan

Where did u go???

Nami Swan

I’ll protect ur tupperware for 2day, but if u dont come back by 5 im letting usopp eat ur lunch

Nami Swan

U know how sanji feels abt wasting food

God Usopp

Hey can i have ur lunch

Boss-y

(2 Missed Calls)

Boss-y

(1 Voicemail)

Boss-y

Hey, your husband came in and picked up your bag.  He informed reception that he was taking you home, I hope everything’s alright.  Please call me back when you can, just so I know you’re alright.  If you need some time off, just feel free to let me know that as well so we can work around the project.  Don’t stress yourself out about coming back in too quickly, if something happened I want you to recover first and foremost.  Best wishes.

Law pressed the button on the side of your phone to set it to sleep mode before slipping it back into your bag.  He leaned back in his chair and stared blankly at your backside, curled away from him.

#fem reader #law x reader #reader insert #trafalgar law x reader #x reader #trafalgar d water law x reader #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law #op x reader #one piece x reader #im losing you

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Up All Night 1

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, age gap, narcissim, probably name calling and nasty words, other dark elements. Proceed with caution. (older!reader)

Note: I wasn't serious about this but now I were. Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

You rub your cheek as you check the time in the corner of the screen. You should’ve been gone an hour ago, you should have your bottle of shiraz and your episode of housewives to keep you company. You don’t know why you expected that, nothing ever goes to schedule, not with your boss.

You sigh at his empty office. You haven’t seen him for two days. He has an automatic reply that he’s ‘working remotely’. You know Mr. Drysdale well enough. He doesn’t work outside the office, he barely does anything at the office.

You go back to the PDF, your red notes in the margin of the manuscript. Big meeting tomorrow. Hopefully your boss got that message. You can only imagine what would happen if a publishing house missed their introductory conference with a major writer. That could mean thousands, if not millions, in losses. Somehow, you suspect you won’t have to imagine.

You finish the chapter and press your finger to your phone. It lights up but you don’t have anything more than the several reminders you set for yourself and automated notifications from apps you never use. Drysdale…

His last name rolls from your throat without meaning too. Something about him just irks you to the bone. Maybe it’s envy, or at very least, resent. You’ve worked all these years in the publishing business to become an assistant, all while he was born into his editor’s chair.

Another bubble pops up. You’re not the social media type. You never got much into it. Your generation came a bit too early for that, but you’ve found with men like Drysdale, narcissists really, it is a great tool.

You tap the notification and it opens the story. There he is, taking a shot with a pair of statuesque twins. Not the best look for an editor, on that night, of all nights. 

You clamp your lips shut and flare your nostrils. Right. You close your laptop as you see Eugene making his sweep. Once security pops up, you know you’ve got to go. You pack up your things and say hello to the man in the blue uniform on your way out. He knows you by name too.

You shift your glasses on your nose, the little rubber pieces starting to squeeze your bridge. You come out the front of the building and make your way to the only car left in the lot. You throw your bag in the back and drop into the front seat.

No wine for you. You’ll have to stream the episode when it comes out on Prime. You set a new alarm for the morning, early enough for you to make sure Mr. Drysdale meets his obligations.

📗

As expected, you don’t have a single call from Drysdale. You’ve left several messages since your alarm blared and broke through your four hours of sleep. You see his last activity on Insta from three in the morning and you want to throttle your own phone. This isn’t good.

You have only enough time to get yourself ready. Your morning routine of a perfectly portioned breakfast and precisely brewed dark roast is nixed. You get in your car with coffee in a travel mug. You have only one thing on your mind.

As you draw up the long drive to the ultra-modern facade, the revulsion courses from your stomach into your throat. There’s something about his style that makes your eyes roll. So obnoxious and absurd. He’s exactly a caricature of a silver-spooned brat.

You park behind the beamer and take a draw from your insulated mug. Ugh, you need caffeine, you need strength and patience. You put it back in the cupholder and force yourself out of the peace of the front seat.

You stride up the white stone walkway and hit the doorbell. Once. Twice. Five times before you admit you will not receive an answer. You bring up the emergency file in your phone and key in the door code. Drysdale would shit if he knew his mother sent you it but she is a lot smarter than him. It makes you wonder how the apple rolled so far away after falling.

You let yourself in. It’s quiet but for the catch and skip of a forgotten record. You go into the front room. Open bottles of liquor forgotten on the glass table, a broken glass on the floor, and the record player crackling through the speaker.

You pull the needle off and pause to look out through the transparent wall that gives a clear view of the entire room. You know Drysdale to be shameless but really?

You put your phone away and approach the stares. The large gap between each gives a sense of vertigo to your ascent. You get to the top and head down the hall, glancing down over the entryway as you do.

You carry on and open a door; closet. The next, a bathroom, the other, a bedroom but not used. And finally, you find the door you’re looking for. On the other side, Mr. Drysdale sleeps with his ass naked in the room, upside down on the bed with his head hanging off the foot. The same woman from his Instagram are entwined with him as they sleep the right side up. Ugh, you don’t want to picture it.

You go into the en suite bathroom and take the sleek black plastic cup from beside the sink. You fill it with cold water and unhook the amber satin robe from the door as you pass. You march to the bed and dump the water onto Ransom’s head, watching it splash down his back.

He yipes and whips his head up with an unattractive snort, “what the fuck–”

“Robert Laing is due at nine. It’s ten to eight.” You drop the robe over him carelessly and spin on your heel, “let’s go., Mr. Drysdale.”

#ransom drysdale #dark ransom drysdale #dark!ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale fanfiction #drabble #au #up all night #series #the club #knives out

[ofstoriesandstardust]

changes (j.h.s.)

a/n: this is the first part of my college!AU. not much happens yet, but things are only just beginning with these two! let me know you're thoughts so far!

part of second star to the right (and straight on 'til morning)

folks who wanted to be tagged: @memeorydotcom @djs8891

warnings: college!AU, javynat/icemav, swearing

word count: 2.7k

You slip into the classroom, smiling at Pete as he logs in to the computer. “Hey Pete.” 

He glances up at you from the screen, returning your smile as you saddle up into the first row of seats in the lecture hall. “Hey kid, I haven’t seen you in a few weeks. How was the last bit of your summer?” 

You shrug, tugging your bag off into the chair next to you. “Pretty good. Quiet. How was your trip to Italy with Tom?” 

“Pretty good. Nice to get away from the work and hustle-bustle of his job. Definitely don’t miss the paperwork, that’s for sure.” You both laugh lightly, as the door to the classroom open again, a few boys you recognize from the football team filtering in. “I was surprised to see you on my roster for this class. Didn’t you already fulfill the requirements for this?” 

You shrug, pulling your laptop out as you finally sit down. “Yeah, but I need a couple more extra credits to stay a full-time student to keep my scholarship and you know I love taking your classes as it is. Might be one of my last chances to do so.” 

He tilts his head in acknowledgement as the door opens again. “Remind me after class that I wanted to talk to you about what you’re planning for post-grad.” 

You quirk an eyebrow. “Why?” 

He huffs out a laugh, collecting his papers. “I might have something for you.” The room has slowly begun to fill up as the two of you have chatted, meaning class is just about ready to start. Pete hangs by the front podium, letting everyone get settled. 

Your eyes glance over your computer screen at the non-existent Canvas page, meaning Pete has yet to publish it. The papers in his hands are what you suspect are copies of the syllabus he probably finished over breakfast with Tom this morning. Typical. 

“...dude, this is going to be such an easy credit, I’m telling you.” One of the men behind you says. “He’s just Bradshaw’s quirky godfather. You just gotta say something nice about the Navy and he’ll give you an A.” 

You snort, shaking your head at Bradley feeding his athlete friends with lies about his godfather’s class. You had taken enough of Pete’s classes to know that retired decorated Naval aviator or not, Admiral husband or not, Pete welcomed critical and open discussion of the United States military’s global engagement. Encouraged it, even. 

One of the men behind you sighs and you hear him lean back in his chair. “All I need is an easy A. Gonna skate through this class no problem.” 

“Shit, I forgot my pen. Jake, do you have one?” 

“Javy, I don’t even have a notebook. What makes you think I have a pen?” 

“Reuben?” 

“Sorry Javy, you’re straight shit outta luck. I only have one for myself.” 

The man, Javy, groans. “Fuck me.” 

“Pretty sure Natasha did just that last night based on the- ow.” 

“Hey, psst. You, girl in the front.” You startle, turning around to face the boys. “You got a pen for my friend Javy here?” Reuben asks.

You nod, digging through your bag for your pencil case. “Pencil or pen?” 

“Whatever you got’s fine, sugar. Right Javy?” The blond says, nudging his friend. You roll your eyes to yourself, unimpressed. 

“Here.” You say, leaning up to hand the black pen to Javy. 

“Thanks, I’ll give it back to you at the end of class.” Javy says with a warm smile as he takes it from you.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ve got plenty.” You say with a wave of your hand, already turning back around. Pete clear shis throat just as you do, catching the attention of the students in the room. He offers them a warm smile. 

“Well, let’s get started shall we? I’m Pete. You can call me Pete or Mr. Mitchell, whatever suits you. I’m a retired Naval aviator, served for nearly twenty years. I’m an adjunct here at San Diego State, have been for about the last six or seven years. I teach international relations and military history classes mostly. If you’re here, you should be here for History 2060, Global Military Conflicts Post-1945. If that doesn’t sound correct, you’re most likely in the wrong classroom. Don’t blame you, I got lost this morning on my way in from the parking lot.” That earns Mav a laugh from the classroom as you shake your head. He’s told the same joke on the first day of every class you’ve ever had with him. “I’m going to go around and pass out the syllabus. We can read through it and discuss it. The biggest takeaway is that, unlike some of the other History courses on this campus, I care less about your memorization of dates and people on a test. I want you to take something meaningful away from this class and that’s going to come from the papers you write, the readings you do, and the discussions you’ll have in this class. Let’s begin.” 

“Easy A, here we come.” Jake mutters behind you as the stack of syllabus gets plopped in front of you. 

He’s in for a rude awkaening, you think to yourself as you take a syllabus, passing it back to the boys.

-

“Don’t forget. Your first response paper is due tonight at midnight. I want well-thought out papers, with clear arguments and evidence. Feel free to be critical of the text, but you must respond to it and the more you can incorporate the discussion we had in here over the past few classes, the better. Shows me you’re listening and engaged.” Pete calls out as the class packs up. 

Two weeks into the semester and you had all just finished reading Tim O’Brien’s The Things They Carried. Pete had said he’d chosen the book so you could all understand how these global conflicts could be captured in a fictional manner, asking you to focus on how it communicated a very real history of the event. The book had been supplemented by lectures and class discussion and you felt yourself falling in love with the class everytime you showed up. 

“Have you started that paper?” Reuben asks, sliding his bag over his shoulder. 

Jake snorts. “Hell no. It’s only what, three pages? I’m gonna start writing it after practice tonight.” 

“Javy?”

“Finished it last night.”

“Fucking nerd.” Jake says as Pete calls out your name, motioning you up to the front of the room. It catches the boys attention as you walk around the front row, meeting Pete halfway. The boys are lingering and watching, something you’re painfully aware of. 

“I’ve been meaning to ask you, but are you thinking about grad school?” 

You nod. “Yeah, I am, but I think I’m going to take a year off first.” 

“Have you thought about SDSU’s program at all?” 

You sigh, crossing your arms. “Kind of-”

“-Who willingly puts themselves through more school?” 

You turn catching both Reuben and Javy nudging Jake. You sigh, uncrossing your arms, looking to the ground. 

“We can talk more about this at a later date.” Pete says. “I’ll let you go, I know you have to get to work. Good job on the paper, by the way.” 

“You read it already?”

He nods, walking back to the table at the front fo the room. “Thought I’d get a head start on grading the ones that got turned in early last night. You never fail to impress me, kid.” 

You can't help the grin spreading across your face, even as Jake coughs words that sound oddly like teacher’s pet into his fist.

“Thanks Pete. See you on Friday.” 

-

Jake swallows, staring the 12 out of 100 blinking back at him on the screen. 

“Did you get your grade back for that response paper we wrote last week?” He hears himself, asking. 

“Yeah, I got an 86. Why?”

“Dude, Pete graded those response papers harder than I thought he would. I scraped by with a  73.” Reuben says, sliding in the booth next to him. “How’d you do Jake?” 

He shakes his head, unable to say anything as he stares at the screen. 

Reuben leans over his shoulder, looking at the screen before letting out a low whistle. “Shit Jake.” 

“What? What’d he get?” Javy asks, craning to see the screen. Jake turns the laptop to Javy, earning him a wince. 

“Yikes dude.” 

“What am I gonna do?” He mumbles. 

-

He pauses, waving his friends on as you chat with Pete. He fiddles with his phone, trying not to look nervous as he hears you and Pete discuss research you’d done from this summer. 

“...I really think you should try to get that published, kid.” 

You hesitate. “I don’t know, do you think it could?” 

“Oh absolutely. Here, why don’t you hang on for a second and let me talk to Jake and we can discuss it more?” 

“Oh yeah, sorry.” You give him a nervous smile, stepping a little ways away to give them some privacy.

“What’s up Jake?” 

He sighs. “Sir, I was wondering if you could maybe give me some insight to the grade I got on my paper.” 

Pete frowns. “Did you not read the feedback I left on Canvas? I’m never sure if my comments save properly.” 

“No, I did. I guess- I guess I’m just kind of confused as to why I got that grade.” 

“Well, you lacked a clear argument and the paper was riddled with typos. The assignment was only three pages and you turned in a page and a half. You only used one quote, from the first chapter of the book, telling me you didn’t read any further. You didn’t incorporate any class discussion and you’ve only been here once since the semester started. Now, I know I said I didn’t have an attendance policy but if you aren’t here, you’re not participating in the group discussion and that’s a huge chunk of your grade, Jake.” 

“Is there any way I could re-submit the paper for a higher grade? I’m on the football team and we have to maintain a 2.8 to stay. It’s my last season, Mr. Mitchell, and I’d really like to keep my starting position.” 

Pete sighs. “Tell you what. I’ll let you re-submit the paper for a higher grade if you go to the Writing Center and work with one of their consultants on the feedback I left for you.” 

“Sir-”

“Those are my conditions, Jake. For any one, not just you. I want to see that you’re actually working on improving.” 

“Well, isn’t it just that… isn’t that place for all the bad writers?” 

Pete’s frown deepens. “There’s no shame in asking for help if you need it, Jake. It’s important to me that you know that.” 

Jake just shrugs. 

“You know, she comes as a very highly rated consultant from some of your athlete friends.” Pete says with a nod of his head over to you. You’re looking at your phone, clearly trying to look busy.

“Yeah, yeah, I think Garcia worked with her last spring.” 

Mickey Garcia was Reuben’s room mate, another athlete but on the baseball team. He’d raved about this girl he’d worked with at the Writing Center last spring, helping him get a 93 on a notoriously difficult final for an International Relations class. 

“She’s one of the best students I’ve seen in my time at San Diego State. You don’t have to work with her, but it might be nice to have a familiar face and someone who knows the class material. If you do decide to re-submit the paper, just ask the tutor to let me know you were there, yeah? You’ve got a week to get the new one back to me.” 

-

Jake pokes his head through the door, eyeing the room nervously. “This the Writing Center?” Your co-worker Mia pops her head up from the computer at the front desk, nodding. 

“Yes, it is! How can I help you?” 

Jake looks around nervously. “I have an appointment.” 

“Okay…” Mia trails off. “Do you remember with who?” 

You shut the room to the storage closet. “Hi Jake.” You say warmly, lugging the Costco-sized bag of candy out to the front table. “I’m just finish refilling the candy bowls if you wanna sit down at one of those tables over there?”

He nods, walking around the front desk to one of the tables, pulling his laptop out of his bag. 

“Isn’t that Jake Seresin?” Mia whispers, eyes wide. “From the football team?” 

You shrug. “I think so. He’s in one of my classes.” 

She nods. “Want me to finish doing that?” 

You sigh, handing her the bag. “That’d be great. Are you still leaving early tonight?” 

“Yeah, if you don’t mind locking up the Center.” 

“Yeah, it’s no problem!” 

You turn back to Jake, whose knee is bouncing as he takes in the space. 

He’s nervous, you realize, a stark contrast from the cocky boy you’d known in class. 

You grab your laptop, sitting down across from Jake. “Alright Jake, do you just wanna share the document with me so we can get started?” 

He wipes his hands on his basketball shorts, nodding as he opens the computer screen before pausing. 

“Can I ask how you did on the response paper for class?” 

You duck your head, biting your lip. “It wasn’t my best one.” 

“What’d did you get?” 

“A 94. You?” 

Jake swallows, eyes flitting around the Center. 

“12.” He whispers.

Your eyes grow wide. “Wait, shit, are you serious?” 

Jake nods. “‘S kinda why I’m here. Pete said if I came here, I could re-submit the paper for a higher grade.” 

You nod. “Well, what do you want to focus on then?” 

Jake shrugs. 

“Well, what would be most helpful for you?”

“Could we start by just looking at his feedback and talking about it? I admittedly didn’t understand some of it.” 

“Yeah! Yeah, of course.” 

The next hour flies by as you work through Jake’s paper, identifying places for him to expand and ways he could utilize evidence. You both worked through Pete’s feedback as you worked to build a better argument based off of it.

Finally, you sit back and sigh. “Well, we’re just at about time. You got any last questions for me?” 

Jake shakes his head, shutting his laptop. “Thanks for all your help on this.” 

“Yeah, of course. It’s my job.” 

“This… this all seems to come so naturally to you.” 

You shrug, closing your own laptop. “Yeah, yeah, I mean I’m a senior so I’ve had a lot of practice. It’s a lot harder when you’re first starting out.” 

“I couldn’t imagine just writing all the time.” 

You give Jake a bashful smile. “I’m writing a 30 page paper for my senior capstone.” 

Jake cringes at your words. “I couldn’t do that.” He says, rubbing his forehead. 

“Hey, you’re already improving. It just takes time to learn how to write in a style like this.” 

“I much prefer my Business classes. At least there, it’s a cake-walk to scrap by with a B average.”

“Well, you’re already doing better than me there. I failed Math in high school.” 

Jake chuckles, packing up his things. “Hey, uh, Pete told me I needed you guys to tell him I came here?”

You nod. “Yeah, we just send them an email with your appointment form, discussing what we did in the appointment.” 

Jake sighs, shoulders slumping. “Thanks.” 

“No problem. Feel free to make another appointment if you have any more questions.” 

Jake gives an aborted nod, slipping his backpack over shoulder and standing up. “Thanks again.” 

-

He blinks, looking at the grade in Canvas. 

70/100

Javy leans over his shoulder at his phone as their coach talks. “Is that the revised grade?” He whispers, Jake nods, locking the phone and slipping it back into his pocket, trying not to think about the comment Pete had left just below the grade. 

There was significant improvement here Jake. Please see my comments in the document and on the rubric for further feedback. I highly encourage you to continue visiting the Writing Center throughout the semester. Let me know if you have any questions or concerns. 

“How you do that, Jakey?” Javy whispers. 

He shrugs as Coach Simpson dismisses them. “Does it matter?” 

Javy lets out an incredulous chuckle. “I mean, if you went from a 12 to a 70, I’d kinda think you sucked Mitchell’s dick or something.” 

Jake middle finger doesn’t stop Javy’s chortle as he leaves the locker room. 

#jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin fic #jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin fic #top gun: maverick #top gun: maverick fic #second star to the right (and straight on ‘til morning)

[raspberryfingers]

A Lion in the Garden -Tywin Lannister x Reader- (Part 30)

WARNING: NSFW/Mentions of sex

A/N: AHH alright, so I'm kind of losing it. It's genuinely hard to believe that A Lion in the Garden is over, or at least plot wise anyways. Because yes, I am going to go back and edit, along with adding new chapters into the main plotline to help with pacing and all that, but this is the end of Lady Tyrell and Tywin’s story and it is honestly making me emotional. I started this story in late November, and in the last six months I’ve written about 170,000 words about these two, which is around 300 pages the way that I have it formatted in google docs. So, needless to say, this has been quite the journey for me and also for all of you who have been reading as I publish. And a giant thank you to everyone who’s shown support for my story, because even when I was busy or lacking motivation, knowing that there were at least a few people desperate for the next chapter made me keep working, and now I’m here. Anyways, with all that said, please enjoy the last chapter and know that I am so grateful for all my readers <3

—————

To finally be in the tower of the hand was a blessing. I had spent no less than three hours in the great hall, and if I’d been stuck there any longer I might’ve gone mad. Thankfully, Tywin knew me well enough to know that my patience was wearing thin, and had distracted a few lords so I could slip away. 

It was about 10:00 when I made it back to our chambers, and instantly I collapsed on one of the sofas in Tywin’s bedroom, removing my shoes with a sigh. I massaged my feet and ankles, tired after quite literally standing still for hours on end. If I had been walking the whole time it would’ve been fine, but it was like I had been stuck.

“King Tywin Lannister…” I muttered to myself, getting up from the sofa and going over to the mirror. I could’ve rang for Cerella, but it was late, and the last thing I wanted was to be rude. In all honesty, I wasn’t sure I could tolerate a conversation right now. All I wanted was to let my hair down, remove my gown, and fall asleep.

No, that wasn’t all I wanted. I wanted Tywin beside me too. 

But he probably wouldn’t have the chance to join me until much later, and I couldn’t wait for him. Sighing, I grabbed at the pins in my hair, taking them out and running my fingers through it afterwards. It had not relieved my headache as much as I had hoped. 

I reached backward then, watching myself in the mirror as I undid my dress. I suddenly wished that Tywin had dressed me in red this morning, for at least I could’ve felt connected to him that way. The entire day—though not purposefully, of course—he had been so distant, and now all I wanted was to feel like he was with me. 

My dress fell to the floor, and I undid the rest of my unnecessary undergarments with a sigh of relief. I turned to go towards the dresser and find a nightgown, but I noticed that one had already been laid out on a chair. I was unable to hold back a smile, grabbing my gown and other undergarments from the floor and folding them as neatly as I could. Cerella had known me well enough to understand that I wouldn’t want to speak to anybody at this hour, and so she had set out my nightgown in advance. Gods, I loved her. 

I set my clothes down on the chair, taking the nightgown in my hands once I had and slipping into it. I found that I dearly missed the warm nights that Tywin and I had spent nude, lazily sprawled out under the thin silk sheets. The nights had become colder, and soon the days would too. After that, it would only be a matter of time before the ravens came from the citadel. Then the blankets and furs on our bed would pile, and I would press myself closer against him. Perhaps that was not so unfortunate. 

I slipped into bed, pulling the blanket up to the bottom of my neck and finding a comfortable position. I settled into the mattress with a sigh, my head sinking into the pillow with a sort of relief. It was odd, however, to be falling asleep without Tywin by my side. The bed felt too light without him, and I wondered if I would be able to sleep without the sound of his breathing beside me. 

King Tywin Lannister.

Everytime I found myself drifting off, that came back to me. It was still such a shocking concept, and I wanted it to feel normal more than anything. For some reason, though, I simply couldn’t make it sound correct. Queen (Y/N) Tyrell. 

A small shiver went up my back, and I had to turn onto my other side in bed. I kept hoping for the sound of Tywin’s boots outside the door, but they would not come. It was almost funny to me, how much comfort was derived from a man that plenty of people considered an insufferable cunt. Myself included, let it be known. 

And yet still, I felt restless without him. I had a million questions to ask, and a million reassurances I wished to receive. Although, I guessed he was worse off than I was, probably surrounded by far too many noblemen… and noblewomen.

Now I was lying on my back, a sort of jealousy sparking in me and making my body go hot. Never before had I ever felt that somebody would try and disrupt my relationship with Tywin, but if he was to be king, surely the title of queen looked appealing to many ladies. Just as I was certain the concept of birthing little princes and princesses did.

Would Tywin want children now? His relationship with Tyrion had improved, yes, but would he go so far as to put him on the throne? I wondered if that was better or worse than Casterly Rock. But that was only for a moment, because the idea of heirs was most important. I knew for certain that the titles of prince and princess had not changed my feelings, but sometimes Tywin was hard to predict. Although, if I hadn’t been so tired and my head not so clouded, I would’ve known instantly that his opinion upon the subject had not changed.

Eventually, this train of thought became so tiring that it no longer made sense, and the words in my head were not coherent any longer, especially as I had turned back onto my side and closed my eyes once more. My breathing had begun to slow as well, and slowly but surely I drifted off.

In my dreams, I was on the battlefield. I somehow knew that Tywin was there, but I did not see him. The other odd thing was that it had been snowing, and it was somewhat reminiscent of Winterfell. It was unlike any battle I'd ever been in.

—————

Tywin was utterly exhausted. He had been in constant discussion ever since you’d left the hall, and it was now approaching 2:00 in the morning. He was making his way up the tower of the hand, already grasping at the top of his coat and undoing the clips. It was unlike him to undress anywhere besides his chambers, but gods he couldn’t help it. 

All he wanted was to slip into bed beside your warm body and hold you close, because just as you needed his support, he needed yours. He was not an overly emotional person, but he could admit that to feel you in his arms would relieve the unbearable amount of stress he had accumulated in the last 24 hours. He had single handedly made House Lannister the most powerful and placed them on the throne; it was truly a wonder. 

Tywin did not bother looking at the guards outside his door when he entered his office, he only pushed the door open with a slight sigh and carefully shut it behind him. It wouldn’t have been enough to wake you up regardless, but it was so quiet that he did not want to disturb the silence.

He fully shrugged off his coat now, draping it over his arm as he went towards the bedroom door. That one was handled carefully too, opened and closed as softly as was possible. There were a few dim candles lit, but overall the room was quite dark. He could see you, though, lying in bed with your face turned toward the door. 

The candles were behind you for the most part, and it gave your figure a pleasant outline. Although, your face was partly buried in the pillow, and an odd feeling of guilt ran through Tywin. Had you been crying? 

He took light steps across the room, placing his coat down on the same chair that you had left your gown. He sat down in another, reaching down to pull off his boots with a soft groan. Once he had done that, he untucked his shirt from his pants and then continued to strip. Tywin found his black robe in the dresser and promptly slipped it over his head, periodically looking over to make sure you were still asleep.

Entirely ready to sleep now, he approached your side of the bed. He lifted his hand to your face, the back of his fingers brushing against your cheek. It did not feel as though you had been crying, but it was impossible to tell. He felt the pillowcase too, and was reassured by the dryness there. No, you had not been crying. 

Quietly, Tywin made his way around the bed until he reached his side, carefully lifting the blankets and getting in with as little disruption as was possible. You seemed relatively undisturbed by the shifting of the mattress, and he knew he had not woken you. Tywin laid on his back with a quiet sigh, feeling utterly relieved to finally be in bed and alone. It felt like being alone, at least, for your company was never disruptive to him.

He had been drifting to sleep, but was suddenly startled by a jolting beside him. When Tywin opened his eyes, he saw you shake beside him. He moved to reach over and hold you, but you had shot straight up with a gasp, and he could see a sort of fear in your eyes.

“(Y/N)? Are you alright?” He asked, having to clear his throat as he sat up and placed his hands on your arms. You looked over at him—as if processing that he was there—and then nodded. Something had clearly started you. “A bad dream?” he questioned, gently cupping your cheek and bringing your forehead to his lips. 

“Yes, y-yes. It was just a bad dream,” you whispered in reply, swallowing. The way you said it gave the odd impression that you were trying to remind yourself of it, not that you were telling Tywin. He gave you a sympathetic look, though you did not notice.

“Come, sweet girl. Let us sleep,” Tywin whispered, slowly coaxing you back down to the mattress. He sighed out airily when you moved closer to him, wrapping your arms around his torso. He could feel your stress and uncertainty being relieved as you held him, and he could not keep himself from holding you with the same ferocity. 

Tywin clutched at you, wrapping his arms entirely around you and pressing you to his body as much as was physically possible. He knew he wouldn’t, but there was an odd desire in him to sob. He did not want to be the king, all he wanted was to remain here with you.

“Oh Tywin…” you muttered, inhaling his scent with an overwhelming sense of comfort. Your own scent was simultaneously giving him the same feeling. You had begun to nuzzle into him, too, much as a lion would. In response, his hand had come to your hair, cupping your head as one does for an infant. It had come from some sort of protective instinct, and even knowing that there was nothing to fear, Tywin would not let go. 

His queen.

With both of you feeling utterly at peace in each other's arms, it did not take long to fall asleep. You had drifted off first, and the sound of your tired breathing had sent Tywin to sleep right after you. He had been so glad to hold you, and perhaps even a bit happy that you were tired and disoriented, for you had asked no questions. Those would come in the morning, he knew. 

Tywin would happily answer them then, but for now, all he wanted was sleep. And with you wrapped up in his arms, that was no strenuous task at all.

—————

Tywin had woken up before me, though he had not left our bed. When I opened my eyes, I understood that I was cuddled against his chest. However, when I looked up at his face, he was already smiling down at me.

“Goodmorning, my dear,” he said, his voice a bit deeper and harsher than usual. He must’ve not been up for long. I smiled, adjusting myself and sitting up slightly before reaching over to kiss him. Tywin gave a soft hum against my lips, hand coming to my hair as he kissed me back. The mornings that he got to stay in bed with me were always the best ones.

“Goodmorning, Tywin. What time did you come to bed last night?” I questioned, laying back down and resting my head on his shoulder. I felt his hand lifting my nightgown, and then suddenly his warm palm against my hip. He loved to feel the skin there, for some odd reason. Though, I would never complain, for I loved it too.

“Far too late. I only managed to escape the great hall at 2:00. Your nightmare woke up just after I came to bed,” he said, resting his chin on my head. I furrowed my eyebrows, as I did not remember waking from my dreams. I had experienced a nightmare, yes, but waking up because of it? I certainly could not recall that. Well, it was of no importance.

“I see. If you’d really wanted to, you would’ve left much earlier,” I said, knowing him better than that. Tywin Lannister would never do something he didn’t want to. At least not something like that.

“It would have been inappropriate.”

“Oh yes, I’m certain.”

I laughed, shaking my head at how ridiculous my husband managed to be. I suspected not a man like him had ever lived, nor ever would again. It was almost comical, for Tywin Lannister was rarer than a dragon. 

“We have much to discuss,” Tywin said after a moment, instantly making my smile fade. I could hear in his voice that he similarly did not want to, but felt it necessary. He was right, of course. 

“Yes, we certainly do.”

“What’s most important to me, (Y/N), is that you’re alright. You shook during the ceremony yesterday. It’s all been somewhat overwhelming and sudden, hasn’t it?” He asked softly, one of his hands reaching for mine and holding it. I nodded, sighing out and glancing around the room. 

“I suppose I- well, I hadn’t even considered that you had a claim. For some reason, the only two I had suspected were Jaime and Tyrion, and when I heard men in the hall discussing that it ought to be you, it did shock me. But it’s not you being king which frightens me, it’s the idea of me being queen. I’m nothing like my sister in that regard,” I admitted, suddenly finding one of the tapestries on the wall to be the most interesting thing I’d ever seen. Tywin had it put up after our wedding, and I hadn’t really taken any appropriate amount of time to consider it. There was something so beautiful and erotic about the nude figures, and it was a perfect distraction from my embarrassment.

Tywin suddenly moved beside me, and I realized he wanted to get up from bed. I moved off him, sitting up and watching him quizzically as he went over to a drawer and rummaged around. When he seemingly did not find what he was looking for there, he left the room. I simply waited, absolutely puzzled as to what he was doing. I assumed that like always, he was trying to prove a point.

He came back in with a rather large, rolled up parchment in his hands. He set it down on the table, undoing it and then using books that were already on the table to keep it open. Tywin then turned around and motioned for me to come over. I did so, scooting off the edge of the bed and adjusting my nightgown as I walked over to him.

He had laid out a map on the table, and after a minute it clicked in my head. It was a map of King’s Landing. I raised both eyebrows at him as a signal to explain, knowing he was going to come to a point eventually. 

“As you are aware, the smallfolk of King’s Landing are not entirely fond of me. If I’m to be their king, my reforms must actually have a directly positive impact on their lives. Tell me, how do I improve a city ripe with crime, disease, overcrowding, and homelessness?” Tywin questioned, gesturing to the map he had laid out. I let out a breath that was almost a laugh, feeling that the question was impossible. Staring at the map was not helping me any.

“You cannot improve all of those things single handedly, Tywin. Therefore, I cannot possibly have any ideas that would do such a thing,” I said, knowing that we needed to be realistic in this instance. He still hadn’t come to his point yet, and it was irking me. 

“It’s not single handedly, I have you. But even if I didn’t, that’s not what I mean. Give me a solution to just one of those problems, please,” he said, gazing down at me with a sort of twinkle in his eye. Where was he going with this? I looked at him hesitantly for a moment, but when all I received was an expectant look I knew he was serious.

With a sigh, I turned my eyes to the map once more. Gods, the layout of Kings Landing was absolutely horrendous. It was no wonder that overcrowding was a problem just based on the way that everything was structured. And of course, overcrowding led to disease, so I supposed a solution to the overcrowding would perhaps help that as well. The idea came to me then.

“Tywin, where was Tommen’s carriage destroyed?” I asked, turning to my husband for a moment. His expression was blank, but he pointed down to a certain street on the map.

“Right around here.”

“Well surely that much wildfire must’ve destroyed some of the street and the buildings around it, right?” I questioned, feeling that it must’ve been a completely logical assumption.

“Correct. I was told that these complexes here are practically ruins now, and several of the common folk in them were either seriously injured or killed,” Tywin informed, making my heart sink a bit. To think a religious order had caused such suffering.

“I see. We ought to make sure their families are provided for at the very least, and given reassurances that the sparrows will be held responsible,” I muttered, hearing Tywin give a hum of approval beside me.

“I’ll have Varys see to that.”

“Perhaps I ought to go with him. It will appear more genuine that way. Plus, then I can inspect the site myself. The problem with Kings Landing is that it wasn't built with any particular layout, but if we can slowly rebuild with a more thought out design, then it would be able to more adequately house the smallfolk, and if there’s less overcrowding, that also means less ability for disease to spread. Sickness is bound to spread in large cities, but if we could limit the amount of families living in one house, that ought to help,” I reasoned, continually looking down at the sheet before me and trying to formulate some kind of design in my head based off of what I knew about Highgarden’s layout. Though, King’s Landing was admittedly a much different space.

“And how do you propose we go about building such a thing? To redesign and rebuild the entire city is quite a hefty task. It would displace many,” Tywin pointed out, though I shook my head in disagreement.

“Not if we do it slowly. We could also use the sept to house people, there aren’t any more nobles in need of a marriage that grand so far as I’m concerned. And as we carry it out, we could also hire the smallfolk to help build. It would improve our economy significantly and reduce the amount of unemployed and homeless, especially because the new layout would ideally use the space available most efficiently. I’m no architect or city planner, but I’m certain we could find somebody from the citadel who would be more than helpful with that matter. We ought to focus on agriculture as well, especially with the upcoming winter. It will remain relatively warm enough to plant certain crops, and it would certainly relieve a burden off of Highgarden. Plus, the more jobs available the better,” I rambled, thinking of the endless benefits that redesigning and rebuilding King’s Landing would have. If we could execute it correctly, which I was certain we could, it would be infinitely useful.

When Tywin said nothing, I looked over my shoulder at him. I had leaned over the table subconsciously, both hands spread on the map like I was planning for battle. My husband was smiling rather fondly, and I raised a curious eyebrow. What on earth was making him grin like such a fool?

“A few years ago, (Y/N), when I saw you for the first time since you were 14, I had not a clue what to expect. For a moment, I thought you had remained as immature as you were as a young girl, but you quickly proved me wrong. You had leaned over my table then, just as you are now, and told me that we would be stupid to go through that ravine, because if Stannis sent men in another direction and they realized we were coming, we would’ve been easy to repel. You were admittedly correct, and I understood that you were no longer an inexperienced child. Now you stand here, telling me exactly how we ought to earn the respect of the smallfolk and more than that, how it will be beneficial for all involved. You underestimate yourself, (Y/N), and of all my concerns, you being a good queen is not one of them. You have always been a leader, that won’t change just because the title sounds more intimidating,” Tywin explained, stepping toward me and cupping my face in his hands. My lips parted as I stared up at him, my heart somehow pounding in my chest at the sentiment he was expressing. There was something so indescribable about the way that Tywin managed to reassure me, and I often wondered how it was possible. 

I reached for the fabric of his robe, pulling him closer to me and lifting my head up to show him I wished for a kiss. He chuckled softly, moving his hands from my face and grabbing my hips instead. Tywin bent down, pressing his lips to mine with a noise of satisfaction.

“You’re far too good at that,” I whispered when he pulled away, making his eyebrow raise.

“What, kissing you?”

“No. Well, yes, that too. But I meant that you’re far too good at reassuring me. I’m always in my head and you always know how to pull me out,” I said with a smile, unable to look away from my husband for even a moment. Even after all this time I was still so smitten with him.

“It’s because you often do the same for me, even if you don’t realize it,” he remarked with a kiss to my forehead. 

“And speaking of, well, reassurances… the subject of succession, your succession, I mean… do you- are you still firm on the subject of children?” I asked, knowing that was one of the other things I needed to discuss with him.

“Yes, I am. Why? Has the prospect of them being a prince or princess changed your opinion on it?” He questioned in reply, a certain hesitation in his voice as he asked it, almost as if hoping that mentioning he hadn’t changed his mind wasn’t the wrong thing to say.

“No! Gods, no. I just- I wasn’t sure if… well I don’t know. Your relationship with Tyrion has certainly improved, but I didn’t have a clue if it had improved enough to make you give him the throne. You were already unsure about giving him Casterly Rock,” I pointed out, watching him nod as he listened to what I was saying. He was contemplative. 

“Casterly Rock must have prestige associated with it. Jaime is no ruler, but he would not make the Lannister name an embarrassment. To have Tyrion there, whoring and drinking constantly, would be a problem. The throne has no obligations, it is expected for kings to drink and whore. Tyrion will get the throne once I am gone, and I feel quite certain he will rule far better than most,” Tywin explained, one of his hands holding mine and the other on the table, gently tapping against the wood. He quite frequently fidgeted with his fingers, I realized. I wondered if somehow it helped him process his thoughts.

“I see. That’s easily settled then,” I remarked, somewhat glad it had been resolved so easily. I had expected a much longer conversation, but I was quite satisfied. Tyrion would be a good king.

“Yes, it is.”

I thought for a moment more, and then an insecurity from the previous night came back to me. I found myself looking down, not wanting to see Tywin’s reaction as I said what was on my mind.

“You’re correct, Tywin. Kings certainly are expected to whore, drink, and hunt,” I mumbled, feeling insanely uncomfortable with the jealousy I was experiencing. Surely every woman in the seven kingdoms would be throwing herself at him now. 

“(Y/N), a crown is not suddenly going to transform me. Just like any other man, I have been with whores, and I have enjoyed them, but you are my wife. I had no need to marry you, House Tyrell was already firmly tied to House Lannister. I married you because I love you, and that means I have no intentions of being unfaithful. I would hang any woman who tried to flirt with me, because I will not see our marriage insulted that way. Rest assured that you are the only woman I want, and that is not going to change just because they decided to put me on the throne,” Tywin assured me, hand coming under my chin and forcing me to look at him. He was entirely genuine, I could see it in his eyes. In all honesty, I knew everything he said was true before he had even bothered to open his mouth, but somehow hearing it outloud brought such relief. 

“I merely hate the thought of women looking at you with desire.”

“And now you understand how I feel. Perhaps you’ll stop teasing so much when I get possessive.”

I laughed then, shaking my head and embracing Tywin. There was always something so lovely about knowing I was the only person with whom he acted this way. His hands were on my hips again, and when he gave them a slight squeeze I knew exactly what he was about to say.

“And believe me, none of those whores are anything like you. It left me rather unsatisfied,” he whispered, which had initially been what I expected. Then I was given quite the surprise.

“Unsatisfied?” I questioned, wondering if he was insinuating what I thought he was. He observed me for a second, as though he were debating whether or not he ought to admit something.

“About two years ago, when you left to go make negotiations with Robb Stark, I sent a description to the brothel. At that point, I was unaware that you returned my feelings. We hadn’t even kissed yet, but you were driving me mad. It was impulsive of me to do, and I felt incredibly guilty afterwards… but I- well, I couldn’t even finish with her. From behind, she certainly looked similar. Your same height, hair color, skin tone… but she wasn’t anything like you. She did not hold herself with any confidence, the sound of her voice was wrong. She did not moan how you would’ve, and when I leaned down her scent was nothing like yours. That’s when I had to stop. I paid her and asked her to leave. She wasn’t you…” he said, revealing what was probably the most shocking thing I had ever heard him say. I was trying to process my feelings, but in all honesty I had no idea what to feel. How are you supposed to feel about learning that a man fucked a whore with you in mind? More than anything, I was just surprised. I hadn’t even considered that Tywin desired me at that point in time.

“Tywin…” I whispered, not sure what else to say. It was the only thing that would escape my throat. Should I be offended that he had done it? Should I be flattered? There certainly was something erotic about the idea that I had driven him so mad with lust he had gone so far as to find a whore that looked like me. But at the same time, I hated the idea of him fucking another woman. He was mine. Although, as he had said, that was exactly why he’d stopped. She wasn’t me.

“You had been in my room in the last day or two. We had discussed something, I don’t remember what, but you had sat on my bed. You’d been fidgeting with the lace on one of the pillows, I remember that much. You left your scent on it, and that night… when I realized…” he trailed off, and it seemed that just the memory of it had sparked lust in him. I swallowed, instantly understanding. Yes, I was decided. That was utterly erotic.

Suddenly I was picturing Tywin naked, laying in bed that night with a sort of disappointment that the whore had not fulfilled his desire for me. I imagined him turning over and suddenly inhaling a familiar scent. He would flare his nostrils a few times, discovering that something smelled just like me. He would check the pillows around him, and then he would find the one that I had left my perfume on. Tywin would proceed to inhale deeply, and the lust would spark in him again. He’d reach down, touching himself as the scent consumed him entirely and he shut his eyes.

I came back to the present after picturing that, and I felt the heat in my cheeks. To think of Tywin in such a context was entirely new, but I found that I liked it.

“Until that night, I hadn’t been with a whore since weeks before the Battle of Blackwater. Once I had spoken to you again, (Y/N), you became my only desire. You called me an insufferable cunt, fine, I would prove you otherwise. Nobody had ever dared to say such a thing, and what had piqued my interest was that I knew you did not mean it just to be insulting, it was genuinely what you thought of me. When I wasn’t working, I was thinking of you. And when those thoughts became different in their nature, I did what I thought would satisfy the urge. No. No, it most certainly did not. I couldn’t have anything less than you, I discovered. Nothing ever has and nothing ever will compare to you, (Y/N).”

I felt my heart pounding with his words, so overwhelming was the love inside of me. Suddenly I could not keep myself off of my husband. I instantly kissed him, grabbing at his hair and moaning into his mouth. He did the same in response, and every touch was so raw and genuine. He lifted me from the ground then, letting me wrap my legs around his waist as he took me over to the bed.

He sat me on the edge of the mattress, standing between my legs as his lips grasped at mine. Gods, it wasn’t even 9:00 yet and we were already like this. His hands had come to my thighs, and he had to pull away for a moment, absolutely breathless.

“(Y/N)… (Y/N)…” he muttered, pressing his forehead to mine. I cupped his cheeks, swallowing and catching my own breath.

“I love you, Tywin… I love you so much,” I whispered, smiling slightly and looking into his eyes. He also smiled softly, removing his hands from my thighs and embracing me instead. It seemed that we were both equally emotional and lust-filled. 

“I love you far more than I ought to, (Y/N). My queen… my Nightshade of the Garden… my wife,” he said softly, tucking some of my hair behind my ear. He kissed me again, softer this time. I responded the exact same way.

It was an interesting thought, that I truly had no idea what would come next for us. I found that I did not care, for it did not matter. Tywin and I would continue on, just as we always did.

—————

“You look very handsome, your grace. The sash fits well.”

“It’s not your grace just yet, Cerella. And he does look handsome, even if perhaps a bit gloomy.”

I was fixing up Tywin’s outfit for the coronation, and he had decided on his black coat with the lions on the shoulders. On top of that, I had fixed a golden sash around his torso, as I was trying to prevent him from looking too plain. 

“I do not appreciate your jokes,” Tywin mumbled, which only made me smile even more as I adjusted his belt. He was simply so easy to tease.

“Have you ever considered taking the black, husband? I feel confident they would allow you to keep your wardrobe,” I jested further, finally stepping away from him and feeling satisfied with his appearance. Cerella had brought in my own dress and was presently waiting for me to strip out of my nightgown. 

“Ha! If I did, it would leave you begging,” he replied snarkily, only continuing to grin when I smacked his arm. 

“Do you hear him, Cerella? My husband is surely the most insufferable cunt in all seven kingdoms,” I scoffed, undoing some of the lace on my nightgown and pulling it over my head. My undergarments had followed, of course, and Tywin had pretended not to notice my nudity as he ran a hand over his hair in the mirror. 

“Here, my lady,” Cerella replied, handing me a fresh set to put on. She had not addressed my claim, but was smiling in a way that told me she appreciated the joke. I supposed that after serving the two of us for so long, she’d been forced to become accustomed to our constant teasing and yapping.

I pulled on the clean undergarments, and I held still as she assisted me with the lacing of my stay. After that came my gown, of course, which was a deep scarlet red. The top had minimal gold and white detail, for on top of my dress I was wearing a beautiful porcelain corset. It had absolute gorgeous ornamentation, with perfected gold detailing along the edges and roses painted on it. It had been a gift for my 24th name day, and I hadn’t found an occasion for it until now.

“You look absolutely stunning, my lady,” Cerella said as she helped me put it on. I smiled at her for a moment, and then I smiled at my reflection in the mirror. It certainly was quite the sight. Cerella had done my hair beforehand too, wanting to make sure that everything would stay in place. 

“Yes, she does. You’re breathtaking, wife,” Tywin noted, coming up behind me and placing his hands on my hips, just below the corset. I hadn’t even realized he was watching, in all honesty.

“Well, my husband is being made into the king of all seven kingdoms today. If that isn’t a good occasion to be wearing this, I don’t know what is,” I remarked, watching Cerella step back and take my dirty nightclothes out. Tywin and I were left alone after a moment.

“I have something to give you, (Y/N). I’m not certain what jewelry you were planning to wear, but I think you ought to consider this.”

I watched him retrieve a flat, square box from his dresser with a small smirk on his face. I was suspicious of him, just as I always was. Tywin brought it over to me, and I turned to face him with a raised eyebrow. Carefully, he opened the case and revealed an absolutely stunning necklace. It made me gape, and I quite honestly had no clue what to say in reply.

“What do you think?” he questioned, lifting his gaze from the jewelry up to me. I managed to avert my eyes too, though with quite some difficulty.

“It’s gorgeous, Tywin. Would you- would you help me put it on?” I asked softly, watching the satisfaction settle in his eyes. He said nothing, but nodded and motioned for me to turn around. I did so, watching him move around in the mirror and remove the necklace from its case. I adjusted my hair as he came up behind me, and I could feel his breath against my ear as he hung the thing from my neck. I felt the gentle clasp of it, and he carefully removed his hands. For such a gorgeous, detailed necklace, it was not nearly as heavy as I had suspected. I put my hair back in place with a sort of entrancement.

“It looks beautiful on you,” Tywin said after a moment, still standing right behind me and admiring my reflection. Carefully, he wrapped his arms around my waist and let his head lean against mine. 

“I think this would look beautiful on anyone, Tywin. Maybe even on you,” I jested, though there was no humor in my voice. Something about seeing myself this way was shocking, and I could not tear my eyes away. I looked like a queen.

“No, I doubt that. I had it specifically made for you, the measurements are specific. You are the only woman who’s ever been meant to wear it,” he said, his voice low and clear. I placed my hands on top of his, swallowing and then letting my lips part with a sort of overwhelmed feeling.

“I wonder, Tywin, if you will ever stop spoiling me like a child,” I remarked, finally looking at him. As well as I could, anyways, for our faces were rather close. 

“I have never spoiled you like a child. I have spoiled you like a wife—as you deserve,” he replied, placing a chaste kiss against my neck. I leaned into him, a sort of warmth filling me. To think this man had been my worst enemy a few years ago was incredibly odd, for now he was the most important person in my life. To think that a cut, a sword, and a set of armor might’ve changed my life forever.

There was a knock at our door which I recognized as Cerella’s, and I knew it must be time for us to leave. I moved myself from Tywin’s grasp, though I took his arm once I had. From there, we made our way out of the tower of the hand and down to the throne room. The walk was quiet, but the entire time Tywin kept me close. Occasionally, he would look over at me and hold my gaze for a few moments before looking away. I wondered if perhaps he was trying to make sure I was still there, as stupid as that sounded. 

When we reached the double doors, I felt him take a deep breath and noticed his gaze set firmly on the wood in front of us. I pressed my lips together, blinking a few times as I debated whether or not I should ask him how he was doing. I decided it would do little harm.

“Are you alright, Tywin?”

“Of course.”

It was kurt, and perhaps a bit sharper than he had intended. He was stressed, I understood. He was not easily made this way, either, and I felt awful. The man standing beside me was not only Tywin, he was the king. In this moment, the second identity had to be worn.

“I did not mean to use such a tone,” he said after a minute or so, finally looking at me. There was the husband again. 

“It’s alright, Tywin. You don’t need to apologize. Not today,” I whispered, giving him a sympathetic look. A sort of relief settled in his face, as though he was at least glad I was not upset by what he had said. I had learned Tywin well enough to know it was not truly him.

Slowly, the double doors were pulled open and the two of us were shown to the entire court. My heart skipped a beat, as if I was suddenly processing that we both were on public display. With a swallow, I stepped forward in sync with Tywin, looking straight ahead in spite of my nerves and desire to observe every face. Margaery would inform me of looks afterwards, I was certain.

There was a silence in the room as Tywin and I walked through the isle, heading straight up to the throne. It was almost like a moment of peace, a moment of time that nobody else existed in. I found that I could not resist the urge to look at Tywin, and even despite his appearance as king today, he looked back at me. Oh, and those eyes. Those blue, blue eyes with their green flecks. I loved this man so much.

We reached the platform then, and together we ascended up the steps. I made eye contact with Kevan, who Tywin had chosen as Hand of the King, for he never wanted politics to cause strife in our marriage. Although, both of us were aware that I would continue to be his most trusted source of guidance and advice. And, it was a good thing Kevan was hand too, for I did not want to relinquish our chambers in the tower and he had no problem whatsoever taking the kings instead. The bed was bigger in there, but Tywin and I had no problem sleeping close together.

It was Kevan who I had expected to stand beside at the ceremony, too, but Tywin did not drop his arm. With an open mouth, I found myself standing in front of the throne with him, and there was a smug look on his face.

“Let them see that the queen has every bit of power that the king does. Your title is owed a crown,” he whispered before we turned around to look upon the crowd. I was still somewhat shocked, but I did not let it show as we faced everyone. 

Tywin’s arm detached from mine then, but he then opted to grab my hand instead. He was certainly full of surprises today, and I could not keep myself from giving a subtle smile when his hand squeezed mine.

The high septon was behind us, and once Tywin and I had settled in, he began with the ceremonials. I—in all honesty—was not listening to what he was saying whatsoever. Tywin had been running his thumb up and down the side of my hand for the last several minutes, and that was all I could focus on. That and the two crowns I had noticed in the corner of my eye. One was much larger, and had the face of a lion upon it. The other was about the size of my head, and was covered in thorns and roses. 

The high septon had been going on about the seven blessing and guiding Tywin for at least 10 minutes now, and I hadn’t really processed what was being said until I was mentioned. It was not something that had ever been said in a coronation before, at least as far as I was concerned, and Tywin had given me the most fulfilled of looks when he’d heard it. 

“And may his lady wife support him in all his endeavors and be a pillar of strength in the crown. May she show love, compassion, and kindness to all in the kingdoms, and lead just as bravely as the man beside her. The Queen (Y/N) Tyrell, long may she reign,” he said, placing the golden crown of roses atop my head. Its weight was pleasant, and the echo of ‘long may she reign’ from everyone in the hall sent a slight shiver up my spine. Tywin squeezed my hand once more.

After that, the High Septon moved on to Tywin, and I was unable to remove my eyes from my husband. He looked every bit the king, standing tall with his perfect posture and elegant coat. The High Septon held the crown above his head, and with a shout of ‘long may he reign,’ it was placed upon his head.

“Long may he reign,” I repeated with the rest of the crowd, smiling at the sight of the golden lion upon Tywin’s white hair. It matched the blonde strands that remained on the edges of his head and his cheeks. 

Loud applause filled the room for King Tywin, first of his name, and I experienced the sort of feeling that one gets before battle. The feeling of rallying your men, of hearing them cheer as they prepare to die for you. Would these men fight for my husband? Would they die for him? I would. 

Tywin looked over at me then, and when our eyes met I knew everything would be alright, somehow. There were trials to come, I knew, but it was impossible to feel frightened when the man beside me was looking at me the way he was. Tywin and I had faced everything together for the last few years, and I had no doubt in my mind that we would continue to do so now.

“My Queen,” Tywin muttered, lifting our hands and kissing the back of mine. It was as if he had forgotten everyone in the hall was there, even as their applause continued to ring in our ears. I smiled even more now, looking up at my husband with utter adoration. Every choice I’d made in my life had been the right one, for I could not imagine living without this man. The Great Lion of the Rock and the Nightshade of the Garden. 

Tywin Lannister, I could say confidently, was the most important thing in my life. The man I trusted, guided, received guidance from. But most importantly he was the man I loved. They said that Westeros had not seen a match such as ours in centuries, if ever. And standing beside Tywin in front of the throne, his hand in mine and our eyes stuck on each other, I had the odd sensation that they never would again. For how could they?

I could not imagine another tale such as ours, with the hatred of him in my youth turning to eventual friendship in my adulthood, and then that friendship eventually turning to love. Tywin and I had fought wars together, settled conflict together, and kept all seven kingdoms intact together. What other couple could boast that? None. None could. There were no couples like us. There were no people like us. There was only us.

My thoughts were interrupted by the feeling of Tywin’s hand at my waist, and I realized that he was pulling me towards him. Before all present in the hall, he kissed me. Tywin was passionate, and yet simultaneously loving. I could not resist the urge to smile as I kissed back, the sensation of his familiar lips causing a wave of utter contentment to wash over me. A sense of peace. When Tywin pulled away, he smiled at me. It wasn’t even a small smile, it was genuine and raw. And I could see in his eyes, it was not the crown atop his head that had made him smile. It had been me, standing right beside him as the High Septon had placed it atop his head. I kissed him once more, with not a single care as I did so.

For they would never see our like again.

TAGLIST:

@cheyxfu @lemonscoffee @groovy-lady 

@ladysindar @vesta-ro @exo-nova @paola-carter

@prettykinkysoul 

@fullmoonshadowwrites @kishie8 

@the-desilittle-bird @dianilaws @girlonfireice 

@muscari-fae @lostgirllulu 

@abigfanofgameofthrones @smalltownbigheart 

@frombloodandflesh @supernaturalismyreligion666

@thanyatargaryen @rey26 @hexandale @pkawaiidesu5394 @aimsro

#tywin lannister #tywin lannister x reader #game of thrones #game of thrones x reader #house lannister #charles dance #tywin x reader #asoiaf #a lion in the garden

[jokeroutsubs]

Joker Out in Metropolitan magazine: "Another step forward"

An interview with Bojan Cvjetićanin and Kris Guštin in the autumn/winter 2023 issue of Metropolitan magazine (published 27.10.2023). They talk about their plans for next year (recording in London, touring, and the new album), the way they approach making music, and how they've changed after Eurovision.

Another step forward

The highly successful group Joker Out, consisting of Bojan Cvjetićanin, Kris Guštin, Nace Jordan, Jan Peteh and Jure Maček, is already well-known and warmly received here. The biggest night of their career - sold-out Stožice - is behind them. 12 thousand listeners (including me) gathered in Ljubljana's arena, where we enjoyed hit after hit for two whole hours. Even though they're still young and at a relatively early stage of their journey, Joker Out are already an accepted constant on the Slovenian, and now also international, music scene. They're so omnipresent and so high-profile that it feels like they've been active for decades already, even though we've only really started listening to them. So we are definitely interested to see what else they will get up to in the future.

M: At the end of September, you released your first song in English. Was that foreshadowing for the album?

Bojan: One song on the album is ticked off, and you can expect the whole album next year, around this time.

Kris: After the New Year, we'll start recording it abroad.

Bojan: We've decided to take our time and work through the things that have happened to us so that our feelings can settle down and we can allow ourselves both a creative break and a break from performing. We will start afresh in the new year and go abroad for the first time. We won't approach the new album the same way we did Demoni, where we set ourselves a four-month timeframe to make it; rather, the creative process will last from January until somewhere around mid-summer. We will also probably be in different locations.

M: You said that you were going abroad. Did you mean that in terms of recording, or that you are heading onto their scene? In recent months, you've already stepped onto international stages, where everyone received you with open arms.

Bojan: Yes, in a sense we're already present on the foreign scene, but while recording the album, we will move to London for a few months to create there as well. We have a European tour coming up in March and the first week of April, then we will return to London, and over the summer we'll perform at festivals and return home to our base. After releasing the album at the end of September or in October, we will do another tour or two.

M: You mention London a lot. Have you grown really attached to it?

Bojan: London filled us with inspiration and captivated us the most. It's true that the new song is called Sunny Side of London, but it doesn't actually have any connection to London other than me having to pick a location. The idea was born when we were driving around England in a bus that you sleep in overnight while it's driving from one location to another. When we were driving from Glasgow to London, I woke up in the morning, just happened to open the window, and we were just driving past the Palace of Westminster, which was bathed in sunshine. And that is how the song title came to be! (laughter) But the song is about our fans, our concerts, our connection with the fans - it actually describes the experiences from past concerts.

M: Given that you've spent quite some time in London, do you each have your own favourite corner of it?

Kris: I liked Camden a lot.

Bojan and Kris (in an English accent): Camden town!

Bojan: A part of London that I love a lot is Richmond. It seemed like a fairy tale to me.

M: What kind of response did you get when you released your first song in English?

Kris: To be honest, the response was a lot better than I expected. We weren't afraid, but we did expect some negativity from the Slovenian public who is used to the Slovenian language, but I think that we got good support from the Slovenian and Balkan audiences. It seems that we all understand that this is something that's necessary for wider commercial success abroad, to allow us to build a career there. On the other hand, I also want to say that we didn't force ourselves to make a song in English, it happened completely naturally. As we were working on it, Bojan started singing the lyrics to Sunny Side of London over the music.

Bojan: In the studio, we followed Žare's [Pak, their producer] rule that the language you're drawn to at the start should be the one you finish in. We made a few demos while we were in the studio, Sunny Side of London was the one we liked the most, and I started writing it in English and it stayed that way. We've learned that that's the only way to go, because at some point we had planned to translate our songs from Slovenian to English, but then we saw that there was no point in doing that. When a song is made in one language, it should stay that way. A translation is really just an adaptation of sorts. I think that our listeners could feel that it [SSOL] was an original work.

M: You two are the ones who usually write the lyrics you perform. How about for Sunny Side of London?

Bojan: I wrote the lyrics.

Kris: Bojan wrote the lyrics and we padded it with chords. (laughter)

M: Has your dynamic changed recently, in terms of making music?

Kris: We are changing more and more. Sunny Side of London is actually a good example of how our music-making has evolved. It's true that in the past, Bojči would bring a song to rehearsals, every now and then I would bring one as well, and then we made something from that idea. Now we approach things differently. First we do something with the instruments, you could say that we're 'jamming', then we find some sort of a draft or a moment we all liked, and then we develop our idea based on that, and Bojan has the opportunity to write lyrics for it. Sometimes we have ideas that we can realise later on. For example, Bojan had been thinking about us screaming in a song for a while, but he didn't know how to incorporate that. Well, we found an opportunity to use that. We've got to the point where we feel that it's a natural creative process, and we don't come to rehearsals with a ready-made idea anymore.

M: Would you say that you prefer this way of creating?

Bojan: Actually this natural way is much more freeing, because we are completely carefree in making our musical ideas happen. I am generally a big proponent of the idea that if I can manage to make a song the way I imagined it, I absolutely like that. It results in some slightly different songs as well, but I think that 'jamming' is really healthy for the band.

Kris: It's also true that Bojan has less and less time to write songs at home. It's better to come to rehearsals when we have two days off between tours, because that's where we shatter ourselves with music. That's how we express the feelings that have built up in us during a tour.

Bojan: We can truly refresh our minds and express what we feel. In the week we spent in the studio, we got a lot of top quality material. Completely spontaneously and naturally. I'm not worried about the new album, because we already know that we have some top quality drafts that we keep thinking of and we can't wait to get to them. On the other hand, we still have four months of living in a new environment coming up, which will definitely give us new wings in that regard.

M: So it suits you that you'll be going out of your comfort zone?

Bojan: Absolutely.

Kris: Like you said before - we are present on the international scene, but to truly be present means to be in a cultural centre like London, where alongside music, you can also create a team as well as a strategy going forwards, for how you're going to efficiently break into that market.

M: Given that you already have ideas for the album, I'd like to know if there's a message that you want to include in it?

Bojan: Honestly, no. I believe that we will approach our creative work the same way we've approached it before. If we like it, then it's good. We truly haven't adapted any songs in a way that we thought would work if it didn't work for us. We're lucky to have Žare, who is an excellent "filter". He will also come with us abroad, wherever the road takes us. We remain faithful to our base.

Kris: With the new song, we also started working with Sebastian Krys, a nearly 20-time Grammy winner, in the post-production phase. He also put a lot of himself into this song and I believe that he will give a lot to the new album as well. We have another "filter" who is well-established on the international scene.

M: How do you maintain your unique sound on the music scene?

Bojan: Between playing concerts, creating, and growing up, each member of the band has developed a persona behind his instrument. It's fascinating to see how important the person behind the instrument is. Kris, Jan, Nace and Jure have developed a style of playing that really belongs to them and is a kind of indescribable mark that you can recognise, and it is becoming more and more obvious. My character has also been built, as a singer and a musician standing on stage. When we combine all five of us, we get the Joker Out sound. Just yesterday I was having coffee with Žare and he asked me why people respond so strongly to what we're doing. With many musicians, when you're at their concerts, you feel that they are on the stage and you are under the stage. There's no personal connection. People like that seem very inaccessible. We feel that we have managed to keep a playfulness on stage and a relationship with the audience where each individual feels like they're at their own concert, and everyone else just came along. If we look at the ultra-successful stars, they also make you feel like they're singing only to you at their concerts. If we don't lose that, we're good. If we do lose it, then we're f*****! (laughter)

M: How did your life change after Eurovision?

Bojan: We're suddenly able to have concerts all around Europe, which is truly unbelievable. Next year we might be able to go even further, because we really travel a lot. Suddenly there are a lot of things on the line that we haven't had to deal with until now. We faced two big challenges as a band in a short time. After all, this is a group of people who were used to working in their home environment, and then it suddenly changed. If the dynamic changes in a negative way, there can quickly be friction. I'm glad that we had a few "baptisms by fire" where we had to act as one and build stronger bonds to be able to handle all that. I think that we've grown as a band and as individuals.

Kris: Just the fact that we went on holiday together immediately after Stožice says a lot.

Bojan: Yes, the only holiday we have.

M: You're good!

Bojan: Or stupid. (laughter)

Kris: We did have a week when we were each on our own.

Bojan: But we were sick in that time, so we were forced to be apart. That was when we realised how much we missed each other. We're not a group of coworkers anymore, we spend more time together than with any relative or best friend. I feel like I don't know how to live without these four dudes. (laughter)

M: Do you see music differently after Eurovision?

Bojan: Yes! We never want to play with playback again. At Eurovision, only the vocals are live, which is hard for musicians.

Kris: It was an interesting experience, but I really wouldn't do it again.

Bojan: Can you imagine someone telling you once again that you have to spend half a year just emptily plucking your strings?

Kris: And only one song over and over…

M: Is there a song that you're always excited to perform on stage?

Kris: Most of them, but a good example would be Ona.

Bojan: That's true. Ona is a good example, collectively. Or Tokio?

Kris: Nace is the biggest fan of Tokio, but I think we all vibe to it. (laughter) For me it's Plastika.

Bojan: Oooh, yes! And Ne bi smel.

Kris: Oooh, yes! All the songs from the second album. (laughter) Carpe Diem is nice too. Everyone is waiting for that song!

Bojan: I think Novi val is also a very special, really powerful song. Especially now that we've performed it abroad. You realise how many obstacles we have in our heads that can actually be bridged with one click. And when you see an entire hall of people, who had never even thought of getting to know your language before, holding up a light and singing as if they understand what's happening in the song. It's really fascinating.

-----

We watched Joker Out at the biggest performance of their lives and caught their feelings backstage immediately after the show.

Bojan Cvjetićanin: "I imagined that I'd be feeling a lot in the time after the concert, but honestly, I don’t have a single feeling right now. (laughter) I honestly don't know what's going on." (smile)

Jan Peteh: "I feel as if I've been climbing a hill for a year and now I've come down."

Jure Maček: "I feel like we're going on a tour of these kinds of venues."

Nace Jordan: "No feelings, my head's empty." (laughter)

Kris Guštin: "I've got a feeling we're going to enjoy these next three weeks, as we're going on holiday."

(This blurb is from their post-Stožice press conference; you can watch a part of it with English subs on our channel here: Joker Out First Impressions After Stožice Concert)

#joker out #bojan cvjetićanin #kris guštin

[knightyoomyoui]

ITZY Ryujin x M & F Reader - "Misa De Gallo"

This wasn't part of my plans at all, but since I was hugely inspired from listening to Ben&Ben's song "Bibingka" (give it a listen, it's a Filipino song but trust me, it's so good.) since it's Christmas, so I got to formulate a plot in my mind and give it an attempt to write it for another one-shot entry.

I originally wanted to add this on the TWICE x Reader one-shot book as a one-shot special but I already published the next entry on my line-up there few days ago so, I decided to instead place this here since I haven't get to update this book for a while now. And lastly, I picked Ryujin of ITZY to feature on this story because she's also another one of my biases from other groups aside from TWICE. Enjoy reading and Merry Christmas everybody!

Here's my Ko-fi account where you can drop your donations or ask for a commission. You can check it out on my Tumblr profile too!  Buy knightyoomyoui a Coffee. ko-fi.com/knightyoomyoui - Ko-fi ❤️ Where creators get support from fans through donations, memberships, shop sales and more! The original 'Buy Me a Coffee' Page.

Ten minutes remained until the evening's last mass started. Before you explored, you parked your vehicle properly onto the vacant spot in the parking lot. As you entered the sacred area wearing your formal clothes of choice for attending a mass, you took in the cool, windy evening air that caressed your skin.

Looking around the sacred building and its surroundings, you saw a lot of people, probably less than the batch who were gathered an hour earlier, judging by the number of individuals who left and headed home as you showed up at your destination. That didn't seperated them for a difference that majority  of them wears a smile in their faces, it is unknown whether what's going on through their minds but certainly for sure you knew that they're glad that they got to experience having a Misa De Gallo with their loved ones.

Misa De Gallo or Simbang Gabi if you will translate it in Tagalog, is a part of Filipino culture, mainly influenced from the Spanish during their time of colonization in the Philippines, through their intention of implementing and propagating the religion known as Catholic to the Filipino people.

As part of the religious beliefs ingrained in Filipino culture, it is believed that if you attend evening mass on all nine nights—the ninth being known as Misa De Gallo—your one special wish for the upcoming year will be fulfilled. Aside from your enthusiasm to pray to God to express your gratitude and requests for guidance in life, that is precisely your intention for coming to this church. Over the previous several years, you haven't had the opportunity to complete the Misa De Gallo because, either at first, you weren't interested, or after you and your family attempted to go, you established a premise that primarily links your decision to participate to the availability of your family.

However, you haven't been able to experience Misa De Gallo for a long time because of some personal circumstances that they have been going through for the past two years following the lessened strictness of the safety guidelines for COVID a year prior to that, allowing people to attend with more freedom and caution. Not until today.

Knowing that your siblings won't be able to start over again that automatically brought your parents also to remain and check upon them, you've decided to do it alone this time. You're left with no option but to finish the nine night masses by yourself.

Entering the chapel, you could convey how serene and bizarre it is to experience this all by yourself regardless of the fact that you're still being a little bit sleepy along with the people present inside since it was still quite early in the morning when the sun hasn't risen yet. The unexaggerated noises of the crowd sufficient to keep yourself quiet while waiting for the mass to be prepped up, the dazzling decorations around the chapel and the graceful ambience of the holy structure says it all. About almost half an hour later, the mass is ongoing. The priest starts to pronounce his first prayer after the insightful sermon he just recited to the devoted crowd. You tried to admire the view of all of the people politely listening to the wise words from the Bible with grace and when you were looking around, a side profile of a very intriguing woman drew your attention for a while. Throughout the remainder of the time, your eyes never left on the woman sitting beside you, mesmerized at how beautiful her appearance was. Her presence almost created this strange vibe as if the people around became blurry and the only ones that exists are you and her in the midst of the glimmering lights from the divine chapel.

You walked home, successfully finishing your first single night mass with a smile on your face, astounded by it while being curious at the same because of encountering that woman.

On the third night, you were looking for some available seat when you unbelievably spotted again the same woman that you met from the first two nights. Yesterday you have got to see her but unfortunately she was on the other row of the aisle rather.

Noticing that she doesn't have anyone with her yet, you made the initiation on taking the opportunity to sat beside her.

"Let us offer one another a sign of peace." The priest extends his hands to the air, giving the signal for the crowd to follow. Everybody exchanged short messages of "peace be with yous" to those they can set their eyes for. You looked at each your sides, and for the first time; the girl has captured your gaze. "Peace be with you." She bowed at you and flashed her cute grin. You couldn't help but to smile in delight too at how contagious her display was, along with your own words in return for her.

You walked home, successfully finishing your third single night mass with a smile on your face, uplifted by it while being intrigued at the same because of encountering that woman.

On the fourth night, they have once again sat at the same chair, almost got you into wondering if this has became a fate that was casted for you as an additional christmas gift sent from God herself to often meet this woman. You and her both noticed the empty space between them as it was brought by the mutual shyness, prompting you into surmising that she may have started to find it suspicious now too. You could just hope that she won't take it a wrong turn.

A mother with her child appeared on their row, and you had no choice but to adjust yourself closer to her. You didn't look at her to get her out of thinking you may have stalking her everyday, but in your surprise, the woman talked to you for the first time.

"Aren't you the same guy I've seated with from yesterday and the days before that?" You finally heard her voice. It suited her alluring and hypnotizing looks, kind of deep and sultry.

You inclined your head, giving her the look of acknowledgment. "O-oh yeah, wait a second. You do are right.", fakely amazed as you pointed the obvious. "Now it got me wondering the same too."

The girl laughed and my oh my it was so pleasant to hear. "This is beyond just a simple coincidence now, I should say. It's our fourth straight in a row meeting at this point.", she mentioned through her impressive English with a hint of that Korean accent that you have observed, putting you into another observance that she's probably a foreigner too. "I wouldn't be surprised now if we did get to make it happen again for tomorrow." You chuckled. The woman shared the same sentiment and nodded at you.

Through that, it started to provide you a wider sense of recognizing each other praying and listening together respectfully to the entirety of the mass. You walked home, successfully finishing your fourth single night mass with a smile on your face, contented by it while being lucky at the same because of finally accomplishing that you get to communicate with that woman. On the fifth night, they have sat again at the same spot and made a deal that they'll continue this through the remaining masses before Christmas. This also marked your first exchange of greetings with her too, adding a more wholesomeness to it.

As the Our Father (or commonly known as Ama Namin in Tagalog) prayer began, you felt an unusual damp of touch to your free hand. You looked to the side and your eyes widened, realizing that the girl took your hand in her own will.

Your fingers slowly curled and clamped on her grip and nervously sang with her. In your mind was thoughts running in imagination that the heavens might probably singing together with them as they witnessed this lovely spectacle.

Before you and her parted ways, they both decided that in order to make their interaction more comfortable and welcoming, they decided started to get to know each other more at the conclusion of the mass.

Being true to their words, they have indeed continued to do so on the following 6th, 7th, and 8th nights. They've done it through exchanging social media accounts, and it has come to your knowledge that her name is Shin Ryujin, sharing the same age as you in 22 years and she is half Korean and half Filipina from her mother's side.

There were other times that you have done a more daring and challenging attempt to get closer on her, taking the time when you escorted her on her house after she noticed that there's no transportation available due to the stampede and traffic outside the church.

"I-I can take you home if you want to." You offered, remembering that you have your own motorcycle with you. Fortunately, only motors can pass through in this not so tight traffic.

"Y-you sure, YN?" Ryujin checked. "It must be embarassing for me to-"

You interrupted her words, wanting her to feel not shy and guilty that she may have pressuring you to do this. "No, I swear I'm being absolute generous right now, Ryujin. You said that your parents may have been looking now for you, and we don't want them to keep waiting longer in worry, don't we?"

Ryujin sighed and tightlipped. She lowered her head, still a sign of shame atleast that she just had somebody she just newly met had to accommodate and adjust for her sake. "You don't have to do this but... if that's what you want then I won't be resisting much more." She slowly nodded and frowned. "Sure, I'll come with you."

You are thankful for her trust that you have earned, and you have no intentions to ruin and waste it. Quickly setting up your motorcycle, you let her sit first before you do like a true gentleman. Starting your engine, you gripped onto the handles and fixed your helmets properly first before rolling the wheels.

"Hold on to me if you want to so that you may not fall, okay?" You gave her one more tip before leaving the chapel together and finding an alternate way to pass through the traffic.

You were busy on keeping your sight on the road until your body was sent into shivers and beats of your heart almost chasing the speed of your driving when you unexpectedly felt that Ryujin's body is pressed on your back, with her arms wrapped around your waist.

Through her directions, you and her reached her safe haven as you discovered her place for the first time also. Parking in front of her house, you hopped out first so that you can help her also hop out from her seat.

Removing your helmets, she looked at you and bowed down in gratefulness. "Thank you so much for taking me home, YN. I really appreciated sparing me from out there." She felt touched at your kind act.

"No problem, I couldn't just let you there be alone and feeling lost, especially that you haven't been familiar yet around there." You said.

"Take care on your way home, okay?" She patted you in the shoulder. "I still need to see you tomorrow."

You blushed and laughed at her silliness and heartfelt favor. "I will, Ryujin. We will meet again, don't worry."

You and her gave waves of goodbye to each other before you ride your motorcycle and drove all the way now to your home. You then found out on the 8th night that the reason she said that was to treat you for some street foods after the mass as her way of expressing her appreciation more for your kindness.

They made it together at the very end. on the 9th and last night before Christmas arrives, Ryujin detected a glimpse of your uncomfortable and sullen demeanor. She sweared that she could atleast barely see you smiling genuinely through the whole length of the mass, and she hated how you're easily making her sympathy for you without having to know the story behind of it yet.

That's why she decided to ask it straightforward to you, especially that she did felt something's wrong based from your lack of focus to your surroundings. It got interrupted shortly when you invited her to try this famous Filipino delicacy during Christmas season known as Bibingka.

You bought each one for you and her. She didn't ate it yet because of it's too much hotness since it was freshly cooked. You did the same, and Ryujin didn't want to spend another time being uneasy at the silence developing between you and her so she poured her confidence to ask you.

"What's gotten into you? You seemed quiet tonight." Ryujin spoke out her observings. You looked at her with that pale expression. "Cmon don't be like that, we literally just finished all the nine night masses. Do you have a problem? You can share it to me if you want."

Ryujin passed the wrapped Bibingka on the plastic back and forth in her hands to endure its heat before trying to place it on her clothed lap. You sighed and looked at her in sorrow, feeling bad for making her worry. "I'm sorry, I just had this realization since earlier this morning."

"Care to tell?" Ryujin pardoned.

"Well, you just said that tonight's the last Misa De Gallo, and now we're about to greet Christmas later." You said in a melancholic tone. "Doesn't it mean that this might be one of our last or... i don't know, exactly the last time that we'll get to share a moment like this?

Because I must say, it has become awesome for me. So much that I didn't want to end it yet, with you."

Ryujin stares at you, allowing you to speak what's boggling through your heart and mind. She did smiled at your note that you're enjoying her company throughout these 9 nights of meeting her.

"I'm not just speaking it as from what I experience from all those nights I've spent on getting along with you, this is me being the guy whom you managed you steal my attention since the beginning." You said to her, not leaving your sight on her while you sincerely releasing all of the sensation  she had caused that is lingering into your insides.

"I'm interested on you, Shin Ryujin."

Ryujin's eyes blinked rapidly, her mouth partly gaped and cheeks reddened on the spot when you declared your admiration for her. "I know it was a bit fast, that I only got to meet you for only less than 2 weeks, that's why I didn't fully recognized it already that I love you already or what, but I know i'll get there. I mean, it always comes to that way when you couldn't get to turn your eyes away at that one person right, and that is you for me, Ryujin."

Ryujin wheezed and scratched her forehead. She sighed and smiled at you. "And now you're trying to get through my feelings, I thought I wouldn't get to witness it at all, but now I did."

You gave her the opportunity to speak on her own behalf now, while albeit nervous at what she's going to say, brought by the fear that this may have cost your shortly built closeness with her.

However, it aged like a milk when her next words made you brought back everything you've thought it'll turn up to be.

"Funny how you just said it, so we're having similar impression stored within ourselves through all this time then?" She chuckled.

"Uhh can you elaborate for me?"

Ryujin knocked your head, making you rub your head at the stinging pain. "Idiot, I-I'm also interested with you too." she pouted and cutely hid her face away from you.

You stopped your movement as your senses malfunctioned after processing what you just heard from her. "H-huh what? You do?"

"Remember that first night? That's when I actually saw you for the first time." She recalled, revealing that she had already noticed you secretly too in the first night. "And I don't know why I can't contain myself to sneak glances at you. Then the second night came, I saw you again, there's a want in me that urged me to sit on you but sadly I couldn't. There's someone beside you already, so I went on to do some couple of watches on you again."

"And finally I got to do it when you sat near from me on the third night." Ryujin formed a satisfied curve on her lips before lightbulb popped in her mind, her face sprung wide and slowly turned towards you.

"Uhh what's with the look?"

"Aha! So that's why you did the first move to sit beside me huh!" She teasingly bumped you on the arm, smirking at your super ashamed state. "Very slick of you, YN."

"W-wait there was this mother and her son who wanted to sat with us o-okay? That why I adjusted myself!"

"But you were thinking of wanting to sit together with me too, don't you?"

You stammered before choosing to shut your mouth as Ryujin finally got you busted. She just laughed at your embarassed condition.

"That was funny... and very cute of you, YN." Ryujin gave a cheeky smile, making you blush intensely again. "Yeah, I'm not gonna make it longer and cheesier. I'm also interested in you, YN LN."

She laid her head on top of your shoulder and started to unwrap the Bibingka on her hand. "And I am giving you a chance to earn my heart more. I expect to see other things you can do for me, YN."

You respectfully took the opportunity she allowed to install on you wholeheartedly for the sake of the emerging love that has begun to develop from the first contact you had with her. "I'd be happy and honoured to introduce it all only for you, Ryujin. Thank you."

The two then happily continued eating bibingka together, with their anticipation for what's more to come between them arises.

1 year later, you and Ryujin attended another traditional Misa De Gallo but this time with their own respective families.

During the offering of peace led by the priest, they instead exchanged kisses to one another, a symbol of your successful and healthy 5 months of relationship with her.

But the most meaningful and unforgettable memory you will ever cherish is your hands holding tightly onto Ryujin's. Little did you know that the true and greatest christmas present you never thought you will be having last year aside from finishing Misa De Gallo without being alone, is her.

Through their desire of not wanting to let loose of their hands anymore after that very first Ama Namin and your intention to give her the Bibingka as a sign of claiming his destiny, they fortunately obtained what they deserved as it all manifested their wishes to come true in the end.

#itzy #itzy ryujin #ryujin #shin ryujin #itzy x reader #itzy x m reader #itzy x male reader #itzy x f reader #itzy x female reader #itzy ryujin x male reader #itzy ryujin x female reader #itzy oneshot #itzy fanfic #itzy au #kpop au #kpop oneshot #kpop fanfic #itzy ryujin oneshot #itzy ryujin au #itzy ryujin fanfic

[tokkias]

i'll warm your body, you'll warm my heart ship: natsu dragneel x lucy heartfilia summary: It's almost a given that Natsu and the cold don't get along, but there's at least one thing that comes with nights like these that lets him learn to appreciate the bitter chill of winter. ao3

an ode to the first ever nalu fic i wrote, published march 26, 2015. 8 years later and still kickin

Perhaps it’s unsurprising that Natsu and the cold are two things that struggle to co-exist. He’s not quite Lucy bad—her teeth chatter and her body starts to shiver at even the slightest hint of the beginning of fall.

The cold doesn’t affect him in quite the same way, but neither is he too fond of it. Lucy once compared him to a reptile, always wanting to bask in the heat, and that isn’t something that he can argue with. Though his body regulates warmth just fine, winter brings with it a bite that he doesn’t quite appreciate.

The air in front of him fogs up with each breath, barely visible in the dark streets before him. He’d been cooped up in the guild hall all evening, forced to patch up holes and reassemble chairs that he swore up and down were not his fault. Whether or not it was the result of his reckless behaviour, he and Gray had been tasked with the natural consequences of their repeated actions.

With the sun long gone, there’s no shield from the bitter chill that comes with this time of year. Though it’s nothing he can’t combat, the discomfort it brings isn’t something he’s eager to tolerate for much longer. His back already ached from hours of reassembling broken furniture and arguing with Gray, whom he’s resentfully certain is revelling in this type of weather.

The trek back home isn’t sounding as appealing as it might have any other night. Though he loves his spot out in the woods and the solace it provides him, living so far out of the way is less appealing on nights like these.

He lets out a foggy and heavy sigh as he weighs his options.

Though his place is out of the way, Lucy lives a mere five minutes from the guild—something she loves to brag about on those days they had to meet at the guild in earlier morning hours.

She would be asleep by now, he’s sure. Lucy was one for a strict schedule, and she had a bedtime that she liked to stick to. She’d most certainly kick him out in the morning, but Natsu knows it would be worth saving himself the long, cold walk, with the bonus of being able to rest in the comfort of his best friend.

His decision comes quick and easy, his feet moving before he even mentally comes to his conclusion, almost as if his body knows what he wants before his brain does.

And why wouldn’t it?

The route to Lucy’s place was branded into his brain—he could walk it with his eyes closed, a skill that might come in handy considering the dark evening hour.

He likes his house, but he likes Lucy’s better. He can’t ever quite put his finger on why. Maybe it’s the proximity to the guild; maybe it’s the cosy environment that Lucy has created within it.

Maybe it’s the person who resides there, her scent permeating the apartment, her love and warmth radiating from every inch of it.

Yeah, it could probably be that last part.

The smell hits him the moment he lets himself in (courtesy of the key Mira “lent” to him), and he immediately feels himself at home.

The lights are unsurprisingly flicked off when he arrives, and he keeps them off out of courtesy, so as not to wake Lucy. He doesn’t need them—he knows the space better than he knows the walk here. He can navigate it without thinking; he knows where to step to avoid the couch on the way to her bed; he knows to step over the part of the rug that is never quite laid flat and somehow trips Lucy up every time. In recent years, he’s spent more time here than at his own home, a fact that Lucy pretends to resent, but he knows better.

When he makes it over to her bed, he sees that the cold night has affected Lucy much harder than him. The heating in her apartment has never worked quite right, and it’s never been more evident than now as she lays in a lump of seemingly every blanket she’s ever owned. The sight makes him want to laugh, but he holds back in fear of waking her.

He pulls his scarf off to prepare for bed, but as he does so, he notices the way that Lucy stirs. His ears tune into her breaths, and he notices the rhythm of each inhale and exhale doesn’t quite match up the way it does when she’s asleep, and his suspicions are quickly confirmed.

She rolls over to face him, and her eyes are open, her lips stuck in a pout.

He’s ready to be scolded, to be told to leave, go to his own home, and stop breaking into hers, but it doesn’t come.

“I’m cold,” she says instead.

He doesn’t reply, but he does regard her with a smile.

He knows what that means because he’s heard it a thousand times. Lucy likes to go on and on about words, about what they mean, about how certain word usage conveys certain things, about how sometimes it’s not what’s said but what’s omitted that’s important. She’s only telling him she’s cold, but he knows that it’s a silent request that he’s more than willing to fulfil.

“Your dirty day clothes aren’t allowed in my bed,” she mumbles as he pulls up the sheet to try and join her.

He rolls his eyes but obliges nonetheless. He sheds his shirt and kicks off his pants before she opens up her makeshift blanket fort for him, and he crawls inside.

She rolls back over to face the wall, and he takes that as his cue to pull her close to his chest. She tucks perfectly in his arms, the back of his knees slotting into hers comfortably.

There’s a brief moment where she’s still shivering, but it quickly dies down as his body heat emanates. It’s nice just holding Lucy like this, but it makes him feel good knowing that he can protect her from the cold the way he wants to protect her from everything else.

He warms her body, and she warms his heart.

Her hands are cold when they clutch against his own, but he doesn’t mind. The brief moment of discomfort it provides is simply his payment for her letting him in without argument.

It’s usually not this easy; it usually takes a moment of bickering if she even lets him share the bed with her at all. She’ll probably kick him out in the morning, the same way she always does.

Right now, he doesn’t mind.

He’ll take this moment for all it’s worth.

#nalu #fan fiction #natsu x lucy #mya writes things #bashes my head against the wall

[caramel1mochi]

One Hazy Winter [Iso x F! Reader] [4]

[ Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 ]

Genre: Angst, fluff ‎ 

TW: Heavy depression ‎ ‎ 

Words: 5k ‎ 

Synopsis: One winter before his disappearance, you told your boyfriend Yu about a question you’ve had for so long; one even he could hardly respond to. It took many more hopeless winters for you to finally have your answer.‎ 

Note: Please don't copy or steal my work and pass it off as your own! If you'd like to use one of my headcanons or something, I'd love it if you tagged or asked. Good day! Sorry for the delay, I totally haven't been eating up the Iso stuff Valorant's posting for the past few weeks like an Iso zombie, or anything. Also I might start publishing stuff a lot more slowly with everything's coming up, but I'll try my best to keep writing! Have a good read!‎ ‎‎ ‎

‎

。+❤ฺ·。❤ฺ·。+❤ฺ· +❤·。❤ฺ·。+❤ฺ·

Winter, present day.

‎ ‎

You were tasked with showing up to work extra early today. Not that you had anything important to do, but Ying had an idea, and she always made her grand ideas your or Yu’s problem.

Mostly you, for some reason. Since she was your boss, you never really minded this. Actually, it was starting to grow on you, especially since she seemed incredibly busy with something else and didn’t have many other ways to release her stress.

It was important to note that this wasn’t all daisies and rainbows, however. This plan, though joyous for her, was pure torture for you.

Your path to work today consisted of you carrying a basket concealed at the top with some cloth as you walked down the pavement. Your mistake of not wearing gloves, combined with the brutally cold weather and the heaviness of said basket, it felt like your fingers were about to snap and fall off any second. Despite somehow surviving every single winter in your lifetime, you never bothered purchasing gloves since you had this habit of keeping your hands in your pockets.

Fuelled by a certain someone.

Your thoughts were curt once you pushed the door open, your entrance accompanied by a jingle as you moved towards the counter where Ying was. Though she was writing down a few things on her laptop, she immediately met your gaze with a grin and prioritised greeting you.

The heat inside the café enveloped you, and you immediately welcomed it with open arms whilst you moved.

‎ ‎

“Good morning, Y/N! Did you bring the goods?”

‎ ‎

Take that out of context.

You pocketed your headphones, then slammed the hefty basket on the counter to relieve yourself of the weight, a loud thud echoing through the empty and barely lit café. Then, you slipped off the cloth covering, immediately taking out its contents before she’d get a chance to peek.

‎ ‎

“One,”

‎ ‎

You placed one ripened passion fruit on the table, Ying’s eyes glimmering in excitement as she turned off her laptop and clasped her hands together.

‎ ‎

“Two,” you set down another, “three,” then another, “four, five, six,”

‎ 

You were careful not to set them down too hard. Despite their thick skin, you knew you could accidentally crush them. And after a whole year of tending to that cursed tree, preventing fungal infections and protecting it from anything that stood between you and a bloody good harvest, smashing the fruits was the last thing you wanted to do.

‎ ‎

“Fifteen.”

‎ ‎

You set down the final one. And by the time you looked up at Ying, her grin grew so wide it could tear her skin open with just one more fruit set to the counter.

‎ ‎

“Wonderful– this is amazing! I can only imagine how many desserts and drinks we can make with this!” She held one fruit and let her thumb scan the wrinkly skin. “And how’re your other trees, if I may ask?”

‎ ‎

With a shrug, the basket was tossed aside and you made your way behind the counter, taking out a knife from a nearby drawer. Your fingers were noticeably less stiff thanks to the heat. Though it still hurt to bend them, it wasn’t as bad as, you know, probably approaching hypothermia.

‎ ‎

“We have to wait until next summer for the harvest, I’m afraid.”

‎ ‎

“Ah, is that so? No problem; the profits we’ll make from this should make up for the time lost!”

‎ ‎

She noted with the same enthusiasm from the moment you showed her a single fruit.

You didn’t want to waste your time making the pies. Your task was to grow the fruit, not cook them. At least until she said otherwise. Again, Ying was your boss.

Once you put down the chopping board and knife you previously washed, she handed you the fruit and allowed you to cut into it. And with just one slice, it parted to reveal a slew of yellow deliciousness glimmering under the light, waiting to be ingested. Ying aimed for said ‘deliciousness’. You, however, already aimed to keep the seeds for yourself.

She took the sliced fruit and trotted off, letting you take the others and continue cutting into them. The silence was immediately broken, however, especially once another thing popped up in her mind.

‎ ‎

“I don’t want to sound like a creep, but…” she piped up from behind, “I noticed you started listening to music on the way here again.”

‎ ‎

You paused.

Right… The headphones. You mindlessly took them out last week and started using them whilst pruning your tree, the action comparable to pouring yourself a glass of water to go with a meal. As if there was no emotional attachment to such a thing. 

And it felt good, now that she mentioned it. No– it felt triumphant, actually. More pleasing than coming to work with a basketful of fruit with only the bustling of the streets to accompany you. Not that your taste in music was anything crazy, but, you know.

You promptly went back to slicing through the fruit. It took a great deal of effort not to let the looming sense of despondency consume you as if it were a blue whale.

‎ ‎

“Yeah, I… Gardening is as distracting as I remember it to be.”

‎ ‎

“You’re not going to drop it, are you?”

‎ ‎

“No, no. Not at all.”

‎ ‎

It gave you something to do other than sulk in bed all day. Ying took the sliced fruit with a smile you barely caught from the corner of your eye, before moving back to the counter behind you.

‎ ‎

“I’ve actually purchased a few other things to go along with the pies we’re making. Would you like the seeds?”

‎ ‎

You looked back to see her taking out a few other fruits and setting them on the crowded counter, right next to what you discovered was a colander. The colours of said fruit pleasantly stood out against the variety of beiges and the muted tones of the outside world. A few oranges sat adjacent to the sliced passion fruit from you, some store-bought passion fruit alongside those ones, and…

‎ ‎

“I was told oranges were your specialty a while ago. I’m hoping that’s still the case.”

‎ ‎

“...What lemon is that?”

‎ ‎

Ying paused to look back at what she’d set down, before perking up and grabbing the exact fruit you were eyeing.

‎ ‎

“Ah, you noticed? It’s a Meyer lemon! I had to wait for December and go so far to find them; I still somehow only managed to purchase two before they sold out.” She grinned to herself whilst handing it to you. “I don’t know how you used to get so many all the time.”

‎ ‎

You set down the blade, then moved to take the lemon from her, observing its familiar shape and colour. Soft, round, thin skin, and a deeper tint of yellow juxtaposed to its regular counterpart. Just how you remembered it to be.

‎ ‎

“Where’d you find them?”

‎ ‎

Ying tittered and took out another lemon, setting it alongside the pile of fruit she’d already placed.

‎ ‎

“That’s a secret. Anyhow, I’ll need to fire up the ovens now and call in a few others. I guarantee that…”

‎ ‎

She continued speaking, but you tuned her out in favour of taking in the lemon’s characteristics all over again. It’s been a while since you’ve seen one of those. Heck, it’s been a while since you were even able to stomach thinking about Meyer lemons. But now, sure, they were doing their cursed job of reminding you of Yu, but what chiefly took over your mind was how you’d be able to plant this on your balcony again. The process, the space, all of that previously buried information was now slowly digging itself out. Huh.

A cold sensation on your thumb snapped you out of your thoughts, and you looked down to realise that you accidentally dented the skin, deep enough for the juice to spill. You promptly shook your head and went back to work.

‎ ‎

❤ฺ·。

‎ ‎

It took a while for you to finally clean out all of the pots and fill them with their respective soils. And it took an even longer while for you to plant your seeds, organising them outside on the balcony, where there was more room. Your apartment was now slowly growing more and more synonymous with a forest. Plants and bushes everywhere, you swore the air also started to change the more you tended to all of it.

You stood back and proudly dusted off your hands, heaving a tired sigh in the process of catching your breath. Despite the cold temperature that poked at your skin like an army of wasps, you were still heavily sweating, and it felt like your chest was burning.

How the heck did you do this all the time without anyone’s help? You thought, but again, you were more physically capable of things like this given your… erm, better diet and mental state. Better than whatever the heck it was now before Ying convinced you to pick up gardening again. It felt like your muscles had deteriorated after a year of… well, after a year.

Whatever. If there was one thing you were going to do, it’s to return to how you were before Yu left. Maybe even better. And these plants were the first step to getting there. You took the pen and sticky notes set on a table near the corner and began writing. The ice cold temperature of said pen stung your fingers, but it’s not like that stopped you.

‘orange’, and ‘passion fruit’.

But you stopped halfway through writing the word ‘lemon’. You haven’t planted any lemons. In fact, you ran out of pots, as unbelievable as that sounded.

You wanted to plant the lemons right now. No, you needed to. If you don’t start now, how long will it take until you finally get fruit? Besides, Ying’s thirst for fresh fruit wouldn’t be quenched any time soon.

But… there was no room.

…

You sighed, and went back inside. There was one solution in mind. But that solution required a level of bravery you could never hope to achieve. And now that she mentioned it, you could hardly put on the headphones without thinking of Yu. You barely managed to plant those two fruits without being reminded of your parents over and over; how were you supposed to even think of approaching Meyer lemons?

It just seemed too ambitious. It seemed like it was too soon, especially when you were still technically grieving Yu’s disappearance.

But the idea was tempting, to plant the lemons in Yu’s backyard. His house was practically abandoned, right? It wasn’t… occupied. How could you, though? Exploit your boyfriend’s generosity like that? Not only his generosity, but for sharing something so vulnerable with you, only to be used for your own selfish goals when he wasn’t around to–

Your thoughts were interrupted once the music in your ears paused in favour of the ringtone that began playing. Someone was calling. And you rushed to your phone on the other side of the balcony, checking the name.

Ying. 

Why would she be calling you today? At night?Nevertheless, you answered and pocketed the device.

‎ ‎

“Hello?”

‎ ‎

“Good evening!”

‎ ‎

You immediately flinched at the sound of multiple plates clanking against each other. That wasn’t to mention the people speaking loudly in the background. Though far away and, quite frankly, muffled, you were too used to the serene ambient playlist you had going.

‎ ‎

"Ying, it's ten. Why're you still at work?"

‎ ‎

"You should've seen it, Y/N! People went crazy over the pastries, they– they think I put some kind of secret ingredient in there! No, in fact, they actively avoided the store-bought passion fruit; they wanted yours!" She excitedly laughed to herself. "Can you believe it? I never thought using fresh fruit could have such an effect!"

‎ ‎

You ran your fingers through your messy hair, unable to hold back the smirk that painted your features.

‎ ‎

"No kidding."

‎ ‎

"I'll give you a cut of it this month. But we're only a few sales shy of purchasing that painting! What would I do without you, Y/N?"

‎ ‎

She let out a content sigh. You noted the unwavering excitement in her voice. Heck, you even knew that her cheeks were currently twisting to accommodate a wide smile despite being on the other side of the phone. But she kept the volume of her voice low, almost as if she were holding herself back in order to maintain her air of professionalism, or whatever.

But…

‎ ‎

“Ying. We need to talk.”

‎ ‎

“Wait, just one second.”

‎ ‎

Ying muted her microphone before you could tell her about what ran through your mind. And the doubt grew the more seconds that passed. Should you really tell her what was going on, or should you just deal with it alone?

Your heart jumped out of your chest once you heard an audible thud from behind you, quickly turning to see what the noise was. But you immediately calmed down the moment you recognised the wrinkly lump that sat on the ground, barely reflecting the light off of its thick purple skin.

It was a passion fruit from the tree. You… missed one.

Ying then unmuted, snatching your attention with ease.

‎ ‎

“I’m sorry, what were we saying?”

‎ ‎

"Something about a painting. Look, there’s something important..." you glanced at the other pots as you leaned on the wall behind you, "Ying, there's no more room."

‎ ‎

"Huh? For the plants?"

‎ ‎

"Yes. My balcony is full, and I ran out of pots."

‎ ‎

"I see... And buying a new pot is not an option, is it?"

‎ ‎

"No."

‎ ‎

You sighed, running your fingers through your hair.

‎ ‎

"I– I have a solution in mind, but it's hard to swallow."

‎ ‎

Your voice shifted to a hushed whisper towards the end of that sentence, and the despondency hit you like a truck. Was this even a good idea? Was telling her a good idea? What if she shuns you for such a thing? 

‎ ‎

"What is it?"

‎ ‎

Silence settled for a moment, before you finally gathered the remnants of courage you had and spoke up.

‎ ‎

"I'm..." you started, "I'm thinking of planting the lemons in his house. In his… backyard"

‎ ‎

...

‎ ‎

"His... house?"

‎ ‎

"Yes."

‎ ‎

Crap. The silence must be indicative of shock; she must be disgusted by this selfish idea, just like you were. This was the exact reaction you were afraid o–

‎ ‎

"Ah, that's a great idea! I assume you visited his house before; do you still have the keys?"

‎ ‎

"I do. He gave them to me."

‎ ‎

"Perfect, then yes, I think you should do it!"

‎ ‎

Ying cried out in excitement, all of the professionalism she feigned melting like ice cream on a hot summer day, all because of you. Presumably in public, considering the bustling you still heard from the other side.

So much for maintaining her mellowness… 

‎ ‎

"Yu told me once about how dead his house felt, no matter what he’d do. This could be the most ideal solution to that!"

‎ ‎

"In what way is that the solution?"

‎ ‎

You said with a wry laugh as you opened the door and went back inside, but Ying wasn't bothered by your pessimism whatsoever.

‎ ‎

"Because gardening is the perfect contrast to death!"

‎ ‎

...

‎ ‎

"Pardon?"

‎ ‎

"When you strip down all of the complicated details, gardening is technically giving life to an inanimate object, Y/N! You take a seed, something no different from a– a rock– a pebble, and nurture it. You turn it into a tree, and it's amazing! It's an extraordinary process!"

‎ ‎

You were expecting her to mention the still air, how having plants there would freshen it up, or the fact that his house was generally abandoned and it would be more beneficial to just use it, but this wasn’t what was in your mind.

‎ ‎

"...Ying, look, I respect your fascination with philosophy, but this is–"

‎ ‎

"Not only that, but a tree is a being that benefits everything around it. It– it replaces the oxygen, it bears fruit, and it returns what it has taken from its environment!"

‎ ‎

"Ying."

‎ ‎

"Think about it! When you picture a ghost town, what comes to mind? Now imagine that ghost town with a touch of mother nature. Fascinating, right?"

‎ ‎

Oh my god.

She seemed far too swept away with this topic, as if these thoughts had been festering in her head for the past few months with no outlet... until you came into the picture. Wait just a second, was this why she wanted you to go back to gardening? Or maybe you were just overthinking things.

Your words, however, fell on deaf ears as you tried to drag her back down to reality.

‎ ‎

"I think you should understand how valuable gardening is, Y/N–"

‎ ‎

"Ying!"

‎ ‎

"Yes! Yes, I'm sorry, I–" She tittered, clearly embarrassed. "I must've gotten carried away."

‎ ‎

“It’s fine.”

‎ ‎

She already sounded cheesy throughout this entire ordeal, but this was starting to get out of hand. You sighed, unable to stop yourself from smiling like an idiot as you stared out the window, observing a family of three hopping on a bus.

In fact, it wasn't too far-fetched to assume that Ying had a high opinion of you for your gardening just as Yu did this whole time, and she was indirectly telling you now. What else could possibly explain this random tangent?

…An idea promptly popped up.

‎ ‎

"Look, Ying, I have to go. I need to… do something."

‎ ‎

You immediately stood up from the couch and left to take out the sealed bag full of seeds stashed deep within the kitchen’s cupboards. 

‎ ‎

“Do something?”

‎ ‎

"I'll ring you up later. We'll keep talking about this on Monday."

‎ ‎

All Ying did was successfully add on to your confusion for the past few minutes, sure, but maybe she also ignited a bit of inspiration in you, given what you were doing. Then, you turned and grabbed a few keys from your drawers, shoving them in the pockets of the thick coat you were about to wear.

‎ ‎

"Oh, I see. I’ll let you do whatever it is you want to do. And if you’d like any help, I’m one text away."

‎ ‎

Despite being on the other side of the phone, you could feel a misplaced cheeky grin force itself on her face. One that, as opposed to the merry and artless one from before, would absolutely look weird on someone as mature and mellow as her. Well, as mellow as she tried to be. She just couldn’t hold back around you, for some reason.

But it still seems like she caught on.

‎ ‎

“Break a leg out there."

‎ ‎

And with that, you closed the call and pocketed your phone, rushing down the flight of stairs. Only two more minutes until the specific bus you aimed for would arrive, and you did not want to miss it, that’s for sure.

Ying's little tangent was so incredibly cloying, it nearly gave you a headache by the end of it. She spoke like a mum who watched way too many soppy movies from the 90's... Well, you might've caught her recommending a few to your co-workers.

But it may have been exactly what you needed to get you on your feet. You were going to plant those seeds. And in her words, 'bring life back' to that house. You weren’t going to allow the pessimistic side of you convince you otherwise.

Now that you weren't in on call, you were free to take out one earbud and play music once more whilst you ran towards the closed gates.

‎ ‎

❤ฺ·。

‎ ‎

Winter, two and a half years ago.

‎ ‎

Even after a considerable amount of time had passed, Yu’s house remained just as empty as when you first visited it. ‘It’s because I moved most of my stuff to your apartment!’ he explained when you questioned him on it. But if that were the case, why were most of them blankets? Even the bloody misters he brought along were purchased from the stores situated outside of your complex.

Oh, who were you kidding? It was on par for someone like him to own only heaps of blankets and hoodies.

And even though this was your second time visiting it, the place felt lonelier than before, for some reason. The rooms felt vast, despite how tiny they really were. Mostly thanks to the echo and the lack of furniture, but that’s by the by. And that wasn’t to mention the photos strewn around the walls. More specifically, the family photos. They left an impact on you despite being few and far between.

‎ ‎

Across the living room was an arched doorway that led to what would’ve looked like a black hole had it not been for the sunlight. That’s where you two stopped whilst Yu was fiddling with his keys. And instead of letting yourself in, you allowed the dark patterned wall to lead you to something you probably shouldn’t have found so interesting.

Hung above the fireplace was a picture you could hardly see thanks to the dim colour scheme that blended in with the surrounding darkness. Nevertheless, you still managed to outline two specks of purple on a toddler’s eyes, surrounded by stunning green foliage and the Russian violet coat of a woman who carried him.

It was… Yu. Being held by, presumably, his mother. Or his grandmother; it was hard to tell. Who knew he looked like such a cute baby? Also, how the heck did his round cheeks morph into the slick jawline he has right now?

‎ ‎

“Remember how you showed me your balcony a while ago?” Yu’s voice swiftly snatched your attention, “I’d like to show you something in return.”

‎ ‎

“What is it?”

‎ ‎

He moved down the short hallway and opened a cherry door to his left, his steps muffled by the crimson carpet flooring.

‎ ‎

“I left a few keys in my bedroom, can you get them while I go to– uh, while I… do something?”

‎ ‎

He looked at you with an innocent smile, awaiting an answer. Just like the painting, his bright eyes brilliantly shimmered in the darkness. In fact, now that you’ve seen him as a baby, it became harder and harder to resist saying yes.

‎ ‎

“I'll be back.”

‎ ‎

And with that, you moved to his vacant bedroom.

Though there were bedsheets, the bed still lacked a blanket. Which, to be fair, should be expected at this point. Once you flicked the light switch, you promptly took off your shoes and stepped on the large patterned rug, nearing the dusty furniture.

Incidentally, the patterns didn’t fit his style, now that you thought about it. In fact, the entire house looked like it was decorated by someone older. Much, much older. And Yu was way too dorky to fit that criteria. But whatever.

Searching was easy at best, especially since most of the drawers on the vanity table were empty. Within a few picoseconds of opening and slamming them, you were done, and had already moved on to the closet that harboured a few hoodies at best. Where the heck was the key? ‎ ‎

“Yu, where is it?”

‎ ‎

You called out, your voice echoing through the house. And it took only a few seconds before he shouted his response from what seemed to be… outside?

‎ ‎

“On the bedside table, it should be on the right!”

‎ ‎

You sighed and moved to the one on the right.

But just as you pulled the drawer back, you heard a large gust of wind billow through the house. Accompanying that wind was a cold sensation that forced you to shiver as you searched.

‎ ‎

“What’re you doing out there, Yu?”

‎ ‎

The moment you slammed the drawer shut, he presumably closed the door as well and prevented the air from further entering.

‎ ‎

“Nothing! I’ll show you when you’re back.”

‎ ‎

‘When you’re back’, huh? Jeez, you weren’t sure whether he was preparing something cute or trying to stop a disaster from happening.

‎ ‎

“Careful. You have no idea how high my expectations are getting.”

‎ ‎

He responded with a barely audible chuckle, and your cold heart just about melted. Since the top was empty, you pulled back the bottom drawer instead. However, just as your eyes settled on the objects inside, your mind went blank.

A medallion glimmered under the weak lights above you. And despite the darkness, you could outline an hourglass symbol etched onto the reflective object. But that wasn’t what concerned you. What concerned you was the gun that sat right next to it.

Why was there a gun?

‎ ‎

“Did you find it?”

‎ ‎

You jumped and shut the drawer, turning to see him standing behind you.

‎ ‎

“Uh– no, no I haven’t.”

‎ ‎

“Really? I know I put it there.”

‎ ‎

Within a few steps, Yu already found himself right next to you, and he pulled the first drawer open, grabbing the keys that were concealed by the sharp shadows.

‎ ‎

“Here it is. It must’ve been the lights.”

‎ ‎

“I… guess it was.”

‎ ‎

There was a gun in the bottom drawer.

‎ ‎

“Are you okay? You look pale.”

‎ ‎

He cupped your cheek in his hand, wiping away a bead of sweat with his thumb. Just as he did that, however, you quickly broke the embrace and took a step back.

‎ ‎

“Yes, I’m fine. I just need some air.”

‎ ‎

He was surprised. That much, you could tell.

‎ ‎

“Oh… Okay, follow me.”

‎ ‎

He promptly led you outside and took a sharp turn to the right, leading you towards a section of the house you haven’t explored yet. But that didn’t concern you. Instead, you kept your eyes on the ground as you followed him, unable to control the questions that took over you. Why would there be a gun in his bedroom? Should you bring it up? And what about that medallion? It was next to the weapon…

Okay, maybe you were overthinking things. It could be some band, or something. Maybe the gun was fake. Heck, maybe you didn’t see a gun at all. Maybe you were–

‎ ‎

“Here, you’ll need this.”

‎ ‎

Your thoughts were knocked out of your head once you saw Yu grab something from the nearby wall and hold it up to you.

Turns out it was a robe. He took it from the nearby coat stand. Long and soft, its pristine beige tufts were highlighted by the sunlight. It was only once your eyes settled on the wooden double doors did you realise that he planned on taking you outside…

Oh. 

‎ ‎

“You have a backyard?”

‎ ‎

“Mhm.”

‎ ‎

He draped the robe over you, allowing the thin yet warm material to enfold and protect you from the oncoming wave of cold. Then, he opened the door and let in even more sunlight.

You stepped out and observed the area around you. Closed off by a fence of stone, heaven itself stood before you… if it weren’t drowning in snow. Thanks to the winter season, what would’ve been a stunning tree was instead a massive dead log that barely held itself, its branches protruding outwards in a sickly manner.

You took a few steps forward as you took in the place, allowing the fresh air to fill your lungs.

‎ ‎

“If I were you, I’d only leave this place in the winter.”

‎ ‎

“And let your fruit die?”

‎ ‎

You stopped, taking a moment to process how that related to the current conversation. And it only took a few seconds for it to click.

‎ ‎

“Is that your way of inviting me to plant here?”

‎ ‎

He shrugged innocently.

‎ ‎

“You said it. Not me.”

‎ ‎

You smiled and allowed him to pull you into a hug, your head pressing up against his chest. Despite the misapprehension that he was, ahem, ‘subtle’, he was the exact opposite.

‎ ‎

“Shouldn’t you build a swimming pool here? For summer…”

‎ ‎

“Hmm. That’s an idea.”

‎ ‎

He thoughtfully mumbled to himself, before something else caught your attention. The hoodie that he wore was loose, now that he had taken off his jacket and scarf. It revealed a good portion of his neck.

However, before you could point this out, he pulled away and spoke up once more.

‎ ‎

“I don’t like spending too much time here, to be honest. Too many… uh, memories. But maybe…” he weakly smiled, “maybe you’ll find this place more useful than I ever could.”

‎ ‎

With his hands in yours, you felt an unfamiliar texture on your palm. It was only when he pulled away that you realised that he had given you the two keys from the bedroom drawer.

‎ ‎

“These are the spare keys. You gave me yours; it’s… only fair I give you mine.”

‎ ‎

You stared at him in silence, the ice cold metal settling in the warm palm of your hand. But instead of feeling some sort of joy, you felt your stomach churn at the thought of the gun.

Even without said gun to cloud your mind, you had no idea how to feel about this. Should you be happy, sad, or relieved? How did he feel when you gave him your keys? It was as if you were unappreciative of anything he did, like sadness was the only thing your mind knew how to feel. And that wasn’t what you–

His hand landed on your shoulder, snapping you out of your panicked frenzy.

‎ ‎

“Are you okay?”

‎ ‎

You sighed. 

‎ ‎

“Yu, I–”

‎ ‎

You were torn between asking him about the gun and admitting how you felt. Either way, it was a lose-lose dichotomy.

…

You grabbed his hand, fingers interlocked like two puzzle pieces connecting.

‎ ‎

“You’re cold.”

‎ ‎

“Hm?”

‎ ‎

If you were stuck between the devil and the deep blue sea, you might as well dig yourself out, right? And that’s what you did.

You pocketed the keys, then held his hand in both of yours to check his temperature. And you were right; he was starting to get cold. Very cold.

‎ ‎

“It– it’s not that bad, Y/N. Really. The hoodie is warm enough.”

‎ ‎

“Don’t start with that. You’ll get a fever.”

‎ ‎

A misplaced grin painted his features.

‎ ‎

“Really?”

‎ ‎

You grabbed him by the collar and pulled him closer.

‎ ‎

“Shut up and come here.”  

‎ ‎

Yu lightly laughed as you wrapped the soft robe around him, bringing him to you to share your warmth. Of course the thought of you nursing him back to health was tempting to him. Knowing how cheesy he was, you’d have to be watchful so that he wouldn’t orchestrate something like that.

With his arm around your shoulder, you took out the keys again, sombrely observing their shape.

#valorant #valorant fanfiction #valorant x reader #valorant x f reader #valorant x female reader #iso x reader #iso x f reader #valorant iso #iso #valorant fluff #valorant angst #iso x you #valorant sage #sage #valorant x you #valorant iso x reader #angst #fluff #li zhao yu #wei ling ying #iso x y/n #valorant iso x you #valorant iso x y/n #valorant headcanons #iso headcanons

[jackyjango]

What are some of your angsty Charles Xaiver headcanons? I love your writing so much!

Hello, Anon! You like my writing you say!!? EEKS! Thank you so so much. 

And as for my angsty Charles Xavier headcanons, oh boy, where do I start? I’m not sure if these are headcanons, or just canons, or something else entirely, but here goes some of them, nonetheless (And this doesn’t stick to much of canon… It doesn’t stick to much of anything really) So, bear with me, for I got carried away.

The doctors and nurses at the hospital are annoyingly kind. Charles hates it. Because behind all their smiles and assurances, and ‘You’re healing exceptionally well from the surgery Mr.Xavier’s, is sheer pity. Days pass in a hospital bed, and so do more faces behind tags. ‘There’s still hope, Dr.Xavier,’ some one says, ‘The feeling in your legs can return over time. Things will get better, you’ll see.’ Hope? Charles laughs bitterly. And how can things get better? Erik isn’t there.

Out of everything, it’s probably the loneliness that drives him insane, the absence of Erik’s bright mind beside his. So Charles drinks. He drinks to make the rest of his body as numb as his legs. Especially his aching heart.

Anger and violence doesn’t come easily to Charles, but he’s angry now. Angry at Erik. He could have, and for the most part has, forgiven Erik for everything - for his legs, for hurting the children. But he cannot forgive Erik for leaving him alone.

The school is thriving. The Children and Raven are there, yes. But it’s not the same. It never has been.

A man named Logan breezes into the school one summer morning biting on the end of a cigar. They call him the ‘Wolverine’. He’s burly as a beast and has the claws like one. And when he asks Charles, ‘Wanna fuck bub?’ from the end of a kitchen table, Charles agrees readily. Whether to prove something to himself, or something else to Erik, or just to feel like his younger self once again, Charles doesn’t know.

Logan doesn’t tease Charles with his clever words, doesn’t gather Charles against his chest like he’s something precious, doesn’t kiss Charles like a man possessed. He doesn’t make love to Charles like Erik. He just fucks like a beast, and Charles is extremely thankful for it. 

Logan leaves as quickly as he’d arrived, promising to bring a few mutants who could benefit from the school. 

There’s only so much Charles can hide in his study drowning himself in expensive scotch. His children need him. Slowly, he eases back into his role of a Professor, and with it, some of the anger and bitterness abates. 

Logan returns a few months later with a girl with healing abilities. With the help of her powers, Charles gets back most of the feelings in his legs. He still has to use his wheelchair for the most part, and his entire body hurts, but Raven cries in delight and says, ‘This is great, isn’t it?’ Is it? Charles can’t say. Even with the feeling in legs, Charles feels just as numb as before.

When Logan asks Charles a few nights later if he’d like a repeat of last time, Charles smiles woefully and says, ‘Good night, Logan.’

Probably the only good thing to come out of this entire ordeal is Charles’ new found understanding of his mother. She drank herself to a stupor in denial of his father’s demise, ignoring Charles in the process. How was Charles any better than her?

Charles wakes one night to the sight of Erik floating into his room through the window. For a few seconds, he thinks it’s a dream. But when Erik starts accusing him of naivety on an article Charles had published about Mutant Education a few days ago, it becomes all too real. He punches Erik in the face like he’d wanted to all those days ago. He stumbles from bed, and his legs ache, but he doesn’t care. They argue, spew insults at each other, and almost tear each other out for two hours straight before falling into bed.

‘Wait,’ Charles says, stopping Erik’s frantic hands. ‘I slept with Logan.’ He feels stupid now that he has said it. He and Erik haven’t defined their relationship in any way. Still, keeping it from Erik feels wrong. ‘And I slept with Emma.’ Erik says. And that’s that, Charles supposes. Erik leaves the next day before the sun or Charles is up.

He doesn’t hear from Erik for 4 months after that. Erik comes in one night sans accusations and assertions, and sans that damned helmet, and whispers fiercely into Charles’ mind, I’m sorry, for … everything. It’s all too easy to fall into bed with Erik then. After all, It’s one of the only things they agree upon whole heartedly.

In the winter, they hire a new teacher for the school. Abigaile has a PhD in Mathematics and Physics, and comes highly recommended. She has lovely eyes and a bright smile, and bats her eyelashes coyly at Charles. The intent in her mind is unmistakable. Charles smiles at her kindly, and calls in for Hank. ‘Please show Ms. Brand to the classes. ’There really can’t be anything between them. How can there be? She doesn’t have large and callused hands like Erik’s. She doesn’t have a sculpted jaw or broad shoulders like Erik. She doesn’t possess a baritone voice that wreaks havocs on Charles’ body. Hell, Charles wouldn’t even fit perfectly against her like he does with Erik. Charles curses under his breath and closes his eyes. ‘You’ve ruined me for women, you Bastard.’

Charles gets a call on the phone in his study at 2 in the morning. The person on the other end is silent, but he knows without a shred of doubt in his mind that it’s Erik. Charles takes in an unsteady breath and says, ‘Please tell me you’re okay, Erik. Please…’ Erik grunts in response and the line goes dead.

To say that Charles misses Erik is an understatement. He misses arguing with Erik. He misses training the children with Erik. He misses their late night chess games, Erik’s teasing smiles and knowing looks. He misses the fire of passion smoldering in Erik’s eyes when he look at Chearles. Hell, he even misses Erik’s smoking. Sometimes, he misses Erik so much that it manifests into a physical pain somewhere between Charles’ heart and stomach. It doesn’t lessen over years, only dwindles into absence for a few hours he’s with Erik, and flares stronger than before once Erik leaves.

When Charles is feeling maudlin beyond reason, which he is for most of the week, he writes to Erik, knowing full well that it’s a moot cause. 

Dearest Erik, I feel like a Regency heroine writing to you….  ……. ……. Bobby froze the pond on the grounds today. Can you believe it? I’m so proud of him, Erik. The poor lad hes been struggling with his control…. ……. ……. I wish you could see it too. Yours Faithfully, Charles

My dear Erik, Ororo threw a fuss today. So much so that it started to rain over the mansion for a few minutes….. ……. ……. Wish you were here with me. Yours truly, Charles

Old Friend, The children threw a small party for my birthday today. Raven baked a caked. And no, it wasn’t as awful as the one she had baked for Alex’s birthday, but it was threateningly close….. ……. ……. Not a day goes by without me wishing you were beside me. Love Aways, Charles

My Love, There was an post in the paper today that a Mutant Experiment lab was destroyed in the East Coast. It reports that the damage was extensive and that the authorities are searching for the cultrip. You know that I don’t agree with your methods, Erik. But I admire your intent. So would all the mutants you saved from that lab. While I know fully well that you can take care of yourself, and your own, I can’t help but worry for your safety, my love. I worry about you constantly. There are more and more scars on your body each time I see you, and how I wish I could kiss it away. Are you eating on time? Do you sleep at all? Please take care, Erik. Yours Forever, Charles

The letters sit tucked chronologically in a box under Charles’ bed, and some of them are still wet at the corners.

Once night, Erik floats into his window with cuts on his face and blood on his uniform. Charles cleans his wounds with blurry eyes, and vows to tear the next person person who accuses Erik of being selfish.

Despite his promises of not looking into Erik’s head, Charles traces Erik’s activities through Cerebro, and refuses to feel one bit guilty about it. It's the only way he'll know Erik is safe. Sure, Erik’s damned helmet makes it all the more difficult, but through the years, Charles has gotten creative. He can pinpoint Erik in a crowd of people even across two states.

‘You should date someone,’ Erik says one night as he sits on the edge of Charles' bed dressed to leave. 

‘Really?’ Charles asks, ‘And why should I do that?’ ‘Because I want you to be happy,’ Erik says, and Charles wants to punch him. How dare he!? How dare Erik tell him to date someone else when he holds Charles’ beating heart in his fist. It’s cruel.  ‘And what makes you the authority on my happiness?’ Charles asks with no less cruelty. Erik doesn’t deign his question with an answer and leaves.

Gone, too, is the box under Charle’s bed that hold the map of his heart.

Erik goes missing for eight months this time, and Charles all but leaps out of bed when the phone in his study rings at 3 in the morning.

‘Erik, please don’t hang up,’ he pleads, and when Erik stays silent, ‘Please say something.’ ‘There’s nothing to say. I just wanted to hear your voice,’ says Erik. Charles knees give away and hot tears fall out of his eyes. But he can do this, he can keep talking. Anything to keep Erik with him. He wipes at his eyes and smiles into the receiver. ‘Do you remember Jubile? The tiny girl with two braids? You won’t believe what she can do, Erik…’ Charles talks into the night and doesn’t stop even when his voice turns horse. And even after that they simply listen to each other’s breaths.

Charles keeps a set of Erik’s clothes in his wardrobe. Over the years, the turtlenecks smell less and less like Erik, but when Charles drapes it over his pillow, and imagines that it’s Erik chest under his ear, he can still smell the sharp scent of Erik’s musk, spicy and clean and fresh.

He also keeps Erik’s favourite bottle of scotch and his preferred brand of cigarettes in a cabinet in his office, and guards it like a dragon guards its gold.

For all that Charles loathes smoking, and has banned it on the grounds, Erik seemed to be the exception to that rule. Hell, Erik has been the exception to all of Charles’ rules.

They hire Jonthan in the fall to teach Mutant History. He’s a tall man with blue eyes and auburn hair. He looks at Charles with a knowing smile and intent in his mind. He would be good for Charles, wouldn’t he? He’s smart, well read and kind. He even holds the same integrationist ideals that Charles does. But... Jonathan doesn’t have Erik’s razor sharp smile, the kind of smile that lights up Charles’ insides and heart. He doesn’t possess the wicked wit that comes so easily to Erik. He doesn’t bear the piercing focus, which when focussed on Charles makes him feel invincible. Jonathan doesn’t even smoke. Charles laughs in exasperation. ‘Good God, Erik! Must you torment me so?’

It’s almost a year later that Charles sees Erik. They fall into each other’s arms way too easily. 

‘Don’t tease me, Erik,’ Charles commands when Erik’s mouth meets the lobe of his ear, ‘I won’t last long.’ ‘Me, too,’ says Erik. ‘That means we’ll just have to go again.’ ‘And whose fault is that? You were gone for more than a year.’ At that, Erik stops, ‘Does that mean that you haven’t…’ he gestures between the two of them. Charles laughs woefully. ‘There hasn’t been anyone other than you ever since you came floating into my room all those years ago.’ ‘Oh,’ Erik says, surprised, ‘There hasn’t been anyone for me beside you, either.’ Charles laughs wetly for a long time. ‘I thought I was alone,’ he says softly. Erik kisses him, and whispers to his lips, ‘You’re not alone, Charles. Not when you I have something to say about it.’

And it sounds equal parts like a promise and a challenge. It sounds just like Erik.

Charles remembers reading somewhere, Like because, and love despite. However impossible, maybe the author had Charles and Erik in mind when they wrote it.

#cherik #charles xavier #erik lehnsherr #anon #thank you so much for your lovely message. It made my day #and if you've made it this far #wow #thanks #also the quote at the end id from 'Half of It' on Netflix #I heard and thought... well it's for cherik #so there you go #jjcherik

[monstersandmaw]

Male ‘yautja inspired’ alien x gender neutral reader - Part Five (sfw)

Disclaimer which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

___

Oops, I tripped over all your lovely comments from the last chapter and fell face-first into some plot. Sorry. Thank you for the sweet things you’ve said so far though. You’re absolutely wonderful people. Things move on a bit more in the next chapter, but there’s a reveal some of you have been waiting for in this one...

Aaaaand as I’ve said at the start of all of these chapters, this is NOT a yautja fanfic. Yes, they’re basically yautja to look at, but otherwise they’re just aliens I’ve made up that are inspired by all things predator. Don’t @ me with ‘corrections’ to the ‘lore’ - it’s my sandbox. I’m just making stuff up as usual.

Content: a bit of lore about Big Red and Croc’s species, a bit more about the aliens they’re hunting, and that reveal... Wordcount: 4804

Catch up here: Part One (sfw), Part Two (sfw), Part Three (sfw), Part Four (sfw)

The storm seemed to have cleared hours ago, and since the crashing of the ship had probably cleared all of the most vulnerable branches already, there was hardly any debris on the ground. A circle of bright blue sky showed above the pines, and the air that hit your lungs was fresh and clear and cold.

The clearing was muddy though, and at the centre of it like a little troll-mound in a mire, sat your faithful, military issue tent with a single golden leaf resting atop it like a rosette. “I’d give you Best in Show,” you muttered fondly to the sturdy canvas as you unzipped it, grateful that your field training had covered how to pitch a tent securely, even if you hadn’t needed any of the other things like basic weapons handling in the end. The loaded tranquiliser gun had remained securely in its holster inside the tent since your first night, and you hadn’t even had to unsheathe the machete for firewood, let alone for self-defence.

Croc was nowhere to be seen, and the clearing was otherwise silent. Big Red had remained behind in the crashed ship, tinkering with something in the crumpled bridge and comms area near the nose of the once ‘arrowhead shaped’ ship, and you left him there in case your awkward moment truly had made him uncomfortable. The memory of his hands on your skin, his arms wrapped tightly around you, the tease of his mandibles over your hair, the rumble of his breath, the solid presence of him pressed behind you in the dark… all of it swirled through you in a never-ending kaleidoscope of sense memories and you struggled to pull yourself back together.

When you’d been told to get close to the aliens, you were pretty sure that that mandate had not extended to sharing a bed with one of them and developing a sizable crush on him.

“Fuck.”

The idea of having to leave the next day made your stomach writhe, and the mood that morning in the camp was sombre. You had absolutely no intention of baring yourself to that frigid stream again so soon, so in the privacy of your tent, you freshened up with a few face wipes and mulled over everything you’d learned and everything that had happened.

During the course of the morning, Croc and Red continued to work together to pile up and sort out all the salvaged material from their ship, and while they worked, they chittered and clicked back and forth in quiet, private conversation. Croc, despite the loss of his entire left arm from the bicep down, barely seemed inconvenienced by it, and you marvelled again at the resilience of the species.

Sitting on a spare crate in the autumn sun, you took the opportunity to type up a load of notes on what you’d discovered of their species, and what they’d told you about their enemy here on Earth. The higher-ups would be particularly interested in that, you figured, so you made sure to get the details down as accurately as possible. The creatures were apparently highly aggressive, intelligent — though not as smart as their hunters or as humans — and their best guess at how they’d spread so very long ago was in the cargo bay of a mining ship that had travelled to one of the asteroids that the inhabitants of Secundus had once mined for ores and minerals. Much more recently, a rare swarm of hatchlings had decimated what Croc had called a ‘waystation’ — some kind of space hub — and had probably then hitch-hiked unnoticed on a scientific ship that had landed on Earth some ten years ago. Luckily, the creatures were relatively slow to reproduce, otherwise Earth could have been overrun before the hunters had even thought to check on it again.

“They’re not going to be pleased to know that your kind is responsible for them being here,” you muttered as you finished off another page.

Croc and Red shared a look, and Red nodded. “We have no solid proof that that’s how it happened. It is just a theory, but it’s why the High Council proposed that we extend aid to your planet in hunting them. So far, humans have reacted to our presence with… aggression, and it has been difficult to establish a stable contact between our species.”

“Until now,” you murmured, and they both nodded again. “You want me to take any particular message back then?” You doubted they were going to leave you with a direct number to call that led straight to this High Council, but it might represent the start of communications between species.

Big Red’s ship apparently had just such a communication stored in its data systems, but you had no way of transferring it to your phone. Human technology was apparently more ‘primitive’ than they’d anticipated, and it seemed like trying to copy a file from the cloud direct to a floppy disc. “I can play the audio from this —” he said, indicating his vambrace, “—and you can… record it,” he said with a nod at your phone. He regarded it like it was a fucking clay tablet, and you didn’t have the energy to argue with an alien over technology. Linguistics and communication was your strong suit, not tech.

“That should work,” you said. “Let’s try it.”

The quality of the audio was more than good enough, so you sat there and listened to it play out while he held his vambrace near enough to your phone that you could have reached out and touched his arm. The urge to do it — to let your fingers play over the textured marks, like cooling magma, on his shoulder and down his muscular arm towards his thick wrist — was enough to make your skin prickle. Instead, you focused on the words of the alien who was speaking on the recording.

“I am the Elder of the High Council,” the deep voice said, and you mouthed ‘female?’ at Red, who nodded. “You are receiving this communication because we have evidence that a dangerous, non-native, predatory creature has been sighted on your planet, and we wish to offer our assistance in exterminating it. For generations, we have hunted these creatures across space, and they are not easily defeated. Their saliva is corrosive, their venom lethal to almost every known species, their reactions are far quicker than even the fastest of your species can see, their stamina is unmatched by beast or machine, and their cruelty and delight in killing exceeds that of even the most dishonourable beings of the Great Species.”

At those last words, your brows pulled into a frown but Red shook his head to stop you interrupting with yet another question. Trusting that he would explain once you’d finished recording the audio, you sat tight and let it play out.

“We wish to send envoys to work with your people to eradicate these creatures before they take hold in your ecosystems. They cannot be destroyed by radiation. They cannot be poisoned or trapped. They can only be killed by the most skilled of warriors with the truest of aim and the deadliest weapons. The metals and alloys you currently use are insufficient to cause fatal damage to them. We will share our technology with you as a means of exterminating them. In return, we would ask that you cease hostile activities towards our ships and our people, release those you have captured, and return the bodies of those you have slain and stolen to desecrate by primitive investigative procedures. Allow our few fallen warriors the honour of a return to the elements, and we will assist you against this threat that will surely destroy you if you leave it unchecked. Send your response via any of the Ambassadors we have sent to your planet.”

You noted she didn't say that the creatures had thumbed a ride on one of their own spaceships, but you could see why she’d left that out. No need to antagonise the humans any more than necessary to start with. When Big Red tapped his vambrace and the recording fell silent, you stared at him for a long moment, questions spinning through your mind like dry autumn leaves.

“Great Species?” you asked, picking one at random as it swirled past.

Red jabbed his thumb absently against his chest. “We are one of five Great Species so far discovered that have intelligence that matches or exceeds our own. Your kind is one of them.”

“Oh,” you exhaled, then, “Five?”

“The other three have expressed little interest in humans, believing you primitive and unworthy of inclusion. You have barely begun to explore space while we have been travelling between systems for thousands of years already.”

“Right,” you exhaled. Fuck. “‘Ambassadors’?”

“Those of us who have come to your planet,” he explained. “There is a mothership waiting beyond your detection, but our… ‘commander’—” he said for want of a better translation, “— has sent down very few ships to the surface so far. We do not wish to overwhelm…” he said dryly. He waited while you let it all sink in, with his shoulders hunched and his mandibles soft around his jaw. It was a lot.

“You know the scientists back at base are going to kill me for not getting, like, tissue samples and blood work from you two. I haven’t even got a photo.”

Big Red cocked his head, and Croc looked up from where he’d been studying the screen on his own vambrace which he’d propped up on a crate instead of on his arm, presumably because it was designed to sit on his left arm, which he no longer had. “I’m not giving you any samples,” he grinned with a lascivious flare of his mouth that was oddly suggestive of a waggle of a human’s eyebrows, “And the Boss won’t either if he knows what’s good for him…” he added pointedly, “But you could take a photograph.”

“You wouldn’t mind?” you asked, looking back to Red.

He snorted and shook his head. “A few still images are not going to give away the secrets of our entire species. And we have hours of footage of you already,” he added, indicating his vambrace. “Anything my mask has seen of you is stored here.”

“Oh. That’s…” You weren’t sure exactly how you felt about that, but you figured if you were going to learn about each other, you’d both need some kind of data. “If I asked you to get rid of it, would you?”

They exchanged a look, and Red nodded slowly. Croc hissed at him, but Big Red stood firm and clicked his mandibles into a retort, at which Croc backed down, though only reluctantly. “Yes,” Red told you. “I would remove it.”

“Even if it meant disobeying direct orders,” Croc muttered as he got to his feet and stalked off in the direction of the ship.

“No, it’s fine,” you said quickly. “You can keep it. I trust you. So long as you didn’t record me naked in the stream…”

“I already removed that,” Big Red said carefully. “I had it set to thermal imaging, but you were hardly visible anyway because the water was so cold.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you puffed the air out of your lungs and laughed quietly. “Ok… Well, thank you.” Then you asked about something that had snagged your attention and stuck there like a burr since you’d heard it. “Red, what did she mean when she talked about releasing captives and returning bodies?”

At that, Big Red tensed. “Surely you know?” he asked in a whisper.

Shaking your head, you stared between Red nearby and Croc beside the ship. “Know what? Secret government experiments on aliens is for tinfoil hat conspiracy theorists… right?”

He didn’t look like he’d understood any of that, but he said after a moment, “Not all of us who came to Earth have left again afterwards. In five years, several of your countries… have managed to take warriors before we could initiate our… self-destruct function here,” he said with another wiggle of his vambrace. “Two have been captured alive, and at least six of our fallen… have not been accounted for.”

“Shit,” you hissed, feeling sick. Of course governments were studying them. God, you were naive to have thought otherwise even for a second, and another question left your lips before you could stop it. “Do you know which countries? Which… governments?”

He nodded.

“Ours?”

Again, he nodded. “Yours has two fallen and one living warrior that we know of.”

“Shit.” You swallowed and then reached for his arm at last, squeezing his hard muscles as tightly as you could. “Red, I don’t know how much I can help, but I swear I’ll do what I can to get them safely back to you. I swear it.”

With a soft, crooning chitter, he raised his other hand and cupped your face with his huge, rough palm. The pads of his fingers against your skin were textured like tiny ripples in the sand. His touch was careful and gentle, and he cradled your jaw and stroked his thumb across your cheek with a tenderness that left you aching inside and out as he keened softly and purred.

Your eyes fluttered closed and you leaned into the contact unconsciously.

When Big Red spoke next, his voice was low and gravelly, and the clicking of his tusks over the words made something spark deep inside you. “You are kind, and honourable. I… believe you will do as you say.”

“I will, Red,” you growled. “I promise.”

Even Croc, who was quick to crack a crass joke when things got heavy, stood and watched you for a long time before gently clicking something at his boss, who laughed quietly, almost sadly, and nodded. He stood and said, “Come. Take your photograph?”

It took a moment for you to gather yourself after such an open display of tenderness, but when you had rallied, you asked them to stand in front of the hole in the ship, side by side beneath the tarpaulin. They did, and after you’d taken one or two with them just standing there, Croc suddenly wrapped his arm around Big Red’s waist, pulled him close, opened his mandibles wide, and stuck his long, dark green tongue under the edge of Red’s mask.

Somehow you captured the exact moment his tongue touched Big Red, and you kept clicking as Red rounded on him in surprised disgust, looming right over him with his own mouth flared wide. He kicked Croc’s knees out from under him and Croc went down like a felled tree, though you could see that Red made sure he landed on his good side.

“You can’t even stand for a photo without causing trouble, Croc!” you called and he raised his head to look up at you, then flared his mouth with a horrible shriek, and collapsed theatrically back down to spread-eagle himself on the ground like he was making a snow angel. Luckily the rain hadn’t touched that part of the clearing because of the tarpaulin overhead and the way the ground sloped away from the ship, and when Big Red had hauled Croc back up to his feet, he brushed pine needles from his friend’s mottled back and thick ‘braids’, slapping him once on the backside a little too hard.

Croc snickered something in Red’s direction that sounded like the universal ‘I’ll get you for that later’. Big Red just shook his head, the motion making his long, thin ‘braids’ sway across the bare, ochre and black skin of his broad, muscular back. It struck you yet again how beautiful you found him, and you swallowed thickly as a choking mix of disappointment and anxiety boiled up your throat and threatened to smother you. You wanted to stay here in the woods with them just a few days longer, but it was simply impossible. You were almost out of food for one, and for another, their rescuers would arrive the following day.

As perceptive as ever, the two friends both paused as one and looked at you, quirking their heads in perfect synchrony to one side. It was so sweet you almost cried. “It’s nothing,” you croaked and turned back to your crate to continue making notes. “Thank you for the photos.” And for the best few days of my life.

Your emotions began to settle somewhat as the day wore on, and sometime in the late afternoon, Croc came over and startled the life out of you by tapping you on the arm with the back of his right hand. You looked up sheepishly from your work and smiled at him, and he cocked his head to the side. “You did not hear me? I called your name.”

“Sorry,” you said, closing the app and locking your phone. “I can get kind of lost in what I’m doing. Did you want something?”

“Come and join us again?” He looked over his shoulder and you discovered that they’d rekindled the little campfire, and Red was now sitting on a metal crate, cleaning a rifle that matched the blaster that Croc had serviced the previous day.

His focus seemed completely locked into the task and you smiled. “Looks like I’m not the only one who gets fixated on something,” you muttered and Croc grinned with his mouth flared wide again to reveal the pinkish, inner flesh of the stretching membrane between the mandibles. It looked so delicate, so at odds with the rest of his tough, solid body.

Staring at Big Red while he worked, you found another question crystallising on your tongue. “You said that you and Red are from different planets,” you began quietly. “Are you different species too? You’re just so different, that’s all,” you added to try and clarify a little.

“Yes,” he said. “We are different. Boss’ — Big Red’s — kind are very rare.”

“He said he comes from a desert environment…”

Croc inclined his head and crouched down beside you so that you didn’t have to crick your neck up to look at him from your crate. “Yes. Most of our kind who live on Secundus left the desert generations ago. Not many can survive those conditions now. The light is too strong for our eyes.”

“Is that why he wears a mask that covers them?”

“Yes,” he said, continuing in his faltering way as he struggled to articulate the human speech around his delicate mandibles. He was already much more fluent than he had been just a day or so ago though. “They hunt at night, so their heat-sensing abilities… are much more accurate than ours… but their ability to detect the rest of the spectrum… is poor. Boss is also shy about his face though,” he added with a snickering chitter of his mandibles.

“He is? Why? You’re not…” you said, indicating his spiny, mottled face looking up at you mere feet from your own.

“Desert species are tough and ugly,” Croc said matter-of-factly. “That’s why no one wants to breed with them, and why no one wants to see what’s under their masks,” he went on, and when your face showed open shock at his callous tone, he laughed. “I like him,” he said in the same way that someone might say ‘the face only a mother could love’, “But even the humans we’ve met before think he’s ugly. To be fair, they said the same… of me too,” he added, scowling as though their judgement was very poor indeed for that.

“You’ve met humans before?” you asked, gears spinning.

He nodded. “They did not speak your language, but I had learned theirs. We came to this part of the world afterwards to study the differences.”

“So you’re like a science mission?” Like Star Trek, you mused, but didn’t say it.

Croc clicked out the sequence of sounds that made up the name of their fallen squad-mate, and then continued, “— was what you’d call the scientist... He had only a little combat training. Always a very bad fighter… We were to protect him while he studied the humans in these parts.”

You got the impression that actually all three of them had been an odd bunch of misfits, like nerds in the school yard, and it endeared them to you even more. Croc clearly missed his fallen lover dearly, though he was keeping his grief private. “But there are no humans in these parts,” you croaked, chest aching for them and the loss of their friend.

At that, Croc scoffed loudly enough that Red paused in his work at last and looked up. You both glanced over at him but he soon dipped his attention back down to the blaster. “We didn’t mean to stop here,” he said with exasperation in his rough, rasping voice. “One of your missiles got a lucky shot… hit us over the ocean and… we came down here…”

You stayed quiet, still mentally scrambling in silence.

Red didn’t want to show you his face because the last human who had seen it had thought him hideous, and even his own kind found him unattractive. He was gorgeous though, in his rough-hewn, primal way, and he had been so tender and so kind to you ever since that single display of strength when he’d thought you a threat to his squad-mate. How could anyone find him unattractive?

Setting your phone down on the crate, you stood and reached for Croc’s shoulder while he was still crouched — the one that wasn’t still healing — and you squeezed his neck gently. “Thanks, Croc. I’m so sorry about your squad mate. Red told me you were all… close; that you grew up together.”

He chuffed something and nuzzled his cheek affectionately against your arm.

The moment passed and you strode determinedly over to Red, who was deliberately not looking in your direction. He was also very obviously done with the rifle, though he still fiddled and futzed about with it. “Mind if I join you?”

He shook his head and you plonked yourself down beside him on the spare box where Croc had been sitting, and looked across at the vambrace that covered Red’s left wrist. He tracked your gaze and then looked away again. After a while, when he showed no sign of starting up a conversation, you brought your fingertips to the cold metal and ran them along the border of the small, dark screen. It flared to life, showing the red, cuneiform markings of their language, and you paused.

“What else does this do?” you asked, thinking back to the recording it had played a few hours earlier.

He did look at you then and opened his mandibles a little in a gesture that you’d come to associate with a human’s eyebrow raise: softly amused surprise. “It… It interfaces with our helmets…” he said, and when you looked expectantly at him, he sighed and tapped it. “This is the control for some of our weapons guidance systems. This,” he said, tapping it a few more times with his black-clawed finger to make a different series of marks appear on the screen, “Changes the… the ‘projection’… that the mask shows me. It will play back footage, or show me different wavelengths in real time.”

You nodded slowly. “So when you showed me that scene of the enemy in the jungle… you chose wavelengths that I could make sense of?” Your tongue stalled at the memory of that creepy, black outline in the trees and the violent delight it had taken in stabbing one of Big Red’s kind to death in the forest of Prime. “That wasn’t how you saw it at the time?”

He inclined his head. “Exactly.”

“Could you show me how you see the world? With the mask, I mean?”

Big Red went very still, and for a moment you thought you’d pushed it too far, but then he said, “Close your eyes.”

You obeyed, and a few seconds later, the vaguely familiar feel of the mask pressed against your face. It obviously didn't fit you the way it did him, but your skin still tingled, and even though your eyes remained shut, an image showed before you and you gasped.

It was Red, but not as you recognised him.

The thermal imaging rendered the outlines and details of his body blurred, like a painting in mostly primary colours, and after holding up your own arm for reference — appearing in bright orange and yellows — you looked across to study him properly. His ‘dreads’ were a cool blue, and his indistinct face was a mix of greens, yellows, and blues, with deep eye sockets and a much narrower skull than Croc. The white points of his eyes in the blue of the sockets were the warmest part of him.

You looked in open fascination until he raised his arm and held out his hand, clearly demanding it back, and you let him draw the mask off you, all with your eyes still closed. After all, he’d allowed you the same courtesy when you’d felt vulnerable and naked in the waterfall. Was this really so different?

He purred something when he clearly discovered that you were still not looking directly at him, and he surprised you by trailing his knuckles sweetly along your jawline from the hinge near your ear down to your chin. “You can look,” he rasped.

Opening your eyes slowly, you discovered that he had not replaced the mask.

Your jaw slackened and your breath caught at your first proper sight of him.

Calling him ‘Red’ was even more fitting than you’d first thought now that you could actually see his face. He had a thick, softly-blurred, crimson stripe down the centre of his large, brown and ochre head, and a series of horizontal, ripple-like patterns led down like the rungs of a ladder between his deep-set eyes to the pits above his mouth that looked like nostrils. His lips were non-existent — any flesh there was pulled back by the way his mandibles sat neatly on either side of his narrow jaws to expose his bony, pink gums. Four chunky, jagged teeth that looked perfect for ripping out throats whole lined the front of his upper and lower jaws.

His eyes, rimmed with delicate, black skin that was vaguely reminiscent of smudged eyeliner, were small, tapered, and almond-shaped, but they sat angled in his skull so that they were almost vertical where a human’s were horizontal, and his irises were a gorgeous, magma orange with a small, black pupil and the hint of black sclera around the edges. He stared at you, unblinking, while you drank in the sight of him with your lips softly parted. Occasionally, his mandibles twitched, reminding you of a human nervously chewing on their lips.

“Red,” you breathed. “You’re… stunning.”

His chest rose and fell in rapid, shallow pants, and his wheezy way of breathing felt tighter and more apprehensive. He kept his body tense and still, as though expecting a blow he didn't intend to fend off.

“Croc —” you cleared the lump out of your throat and started again. “Croc said it’s an honour to see one of you without a mask,” you said carefully.

Big Red still didn’t move.

“Thank you, Red.”

Finally, he gave a huge, rolling sigh. The tension drained from him, and he shook his head slightly as if he couldn’t quite believe what he’d just done. Slowly, he replaced the mask over his face. “Now you know,” he said.

You frowned.

He sounded dejected.

He sounded like he regretted showing you his face.

You reached quickly for his left forearm and squeezed the solid muscle. For the first time, you noticed that he had a black dew claw on his thick wrist, almost hidden by a little nick that had been styled out of the vambrace to accommodate it. Your thumb caressed the nail bed around the base of it and he shivered slightly. “Thank you, Red,” you said again as you released your hold on his arm. “Thank you for trusting me.”

With yet another sigh, he shook his head again and twittered his mandibles into a disbelieving little laugh. “You are strange… human,” he snorted, standing up abruptly.

“You’re not the first to say so,” you mumbled.

Sensing he needed space again, you fought down a tide of disappointment that he was leaving immediately, and stayed put beside the fire.

When you looked around, you discovered that Croc was watching you in perfect stillness on the other side of the clearing, his expression tense and unreadable.

__

Hope that wasn’t too boring and lore-heavy. Things move on a bit more with the next one, I promise. Thanks for sticking with it, and your comments/asks/reblogs/tags are giving me life at the moment, you have no idea.

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If you happen to have a couple of bucks spare, you could always drop a tip on my Ko-fi, but reblogs are just as welcome and just as helpful! I look forward to your reactions to this, and I hope you’re just as keen for part six!

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[ravenclaw-writes]

Morning After

| Part 1 |

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Sirius Black

Description:

Remus finds himself facing the aftermath of having sex with your best friend ... while listening to your other best friends have sex in the next room. Was this a one time thing or does Sirius want more?

Occurs directly after the events of Shared Walls but can also be read as a standalone.

Word Count: 6,184

Original Publish Date: 2023-01-15

A/N: Hi! Final fic from my AO3-to-tumblr transfer. Now I'll start posting here at the same time as my AO3 goes live. This one was a big ol request from all the original readers of Shared Walls, which was originally just going to be a one shot. Had a lot of fun writing this one, softer than my usual stuff but these boys deserve good things too <3 Enjoy and thanks for reading! :)

| MASTERLIST IN BIO |

| Read on AO3 |

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Remus woke to the delicious smell of eggs and bacon.

Slowly, he opened his eyes. The spare room was still dark, but he could tell by the light coming through the gap in the curtains that it was probably close to mid-day. It had been a while since he had gotten a nice lie-in. With a shiver, he realized that there wasn’t even a shred of blanket on his body. He was also naked from the waist down. Confused, and still half asleep, he rolled over to face the other side of the room. Ah.

Sirius was still there, and had somehow managed to cocoon himself in the comforter, creating a giant mass of blanket. Feeling rather exposed, Remus looked around his side of the bed and found his pyjama bottoms hanging off the end. He sat up, stretched, and put them on.

“Moony,” Sirius groaned, his voice muffled a little from the duvet. “Stop moving.”

Remus chuckled. “Time to wake up, I can smell breakfast," he said, giving Sirius' cocoon a couple of pats.

This caught Sirius’ attention and he began to wriggle out of his blanket wrap. Finally free, Sirius sat up, stretched his neck to both sides, cracking it, and did the same to his back. Remus eased himself off the bed, walked over to the window and flung the curtains open.

Sirius hissed and covered his eyes. “Merlin, warn a guy before you do that!”

Remus smirked. “That’s what you get for taking all the blankets.”

“Maybe I just liked looking at you.”

Remus’ cheeks flushed and he tried to deflect it. “Perv."

Sirius smiled. “Only for you.”

Remus rolled his eyes and tried not to read into the comment too much. They've always had playful banter like this, just because they've slept together now doesn't meant their dynamic has changed. Right?

“Come on, let’s go eat, I’m starving.” Sirius pushed himself off the bed. He grabbed his pyjama pants off the ground and put them on before making his way to the door.

“Wait!” Remus called, reaching his arm out to catch Sirius’ attention. Sirius turned around and raised an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t we like,” Remus found himself getting self conscious. “I don’t know, talk about last night?” He asked, not knowing if he wanted to know the answer. But of the two of them, he tended to take on the rationalist role. Someone had to ask.

A pause. “I mean, what is there to talk about? We were both worked up, just happened to be together.” Ah. So playful banter remains that: playful.

Remus tried not to show that the words stung. He knew it was a gamble last night, but actually hearing the words was different. “No, not that part,” He started, trying his best to seem like he agreed with what Sirius had said. “I meant that we’re about to go have breakfast with the two people you got off to last night.”

A hint of a blush started to creep up Sirius’ face but he tried to play it off. “I could have sworn you were also a little turned on.”

Filled with a sudden wave of confidence, Remus walked closer to Sirius. If he didn’t want to come up with a game plan then fine. He knew that Sirius was the one who was loud last night. To a certain extent, most of the embarrassment fell on his shoulders, not Remus’

“Oh I was more than a little turned on,” He got closer, and paused as he passed Sirius so that his next words were spoken directly into his ear. “But I think that had more to do with feeling your hard cock against my ass," he said, toeing the line between playful banter and a come-on. Maybe he just needed to let Sirius know where he stood with this new development. Was it still a development if it was only something that happened once?

Sirius’ eyes widened, and Remus chuckled before he continued to the door and left the spare room.

*** *** ***

When Remus arrived in the kitchen, he realized that coming without Sirius ended up working in his favour. Made it seem like they didn’t fall asleep together … just fucked. Which he guessed was better. Less questions. Questions that he didn’t even know the answer too. For all James and Lily knew, Sirius could have gone back to his own room after they finished.

Remus spotted a pot of coffee ready to go, freshly brewed. He poured himself a cup, wrapping his hands around the mug, feeling the warmth. He inhaled the scent and sighed contently.

James was sitting at the kitchen table, flipping through the morning edition of the Prophet and nursing a cup of tea while Lily continued cooking their breakfast on the stove. Remus had an image flash in his mind of the two of them, years from now, in the same routine but with little Potters running around. James and Lily were going to be the best parents, Remus had never been more sure of anything before.

Remus took a big gulp of coffee and hummed at the taste. He wished for more simple mornings like this.

Lily peered over her shoulder and smiled, a knowing look in her eyes. “Sleep well?”

Remus choked on air, and tried to play it off by taking another sip of coffee. “Could have been better, I kept hearing something banging against the wall,” he tossed back, suppressing a laugh as James spit his tea back into his cup.

“You ought to let that owl out of her cage, James.”

Remus turned to the direction of the voice and saw Sirius leaning casually against the archway into the kitchen. He had no right looking that sexy with bedhead. Remus could see a hickey he didn't remember giving peeking out from the neckline of Sirius shirt.

“Funny you should say, normally she’s fine. She must have heard something in your room.” James offered.

They were dancing around the subject. It was understood that everyone knew what happened last night. But how do you tell your friends that you got off to them having sex on the other side of the bedroom wall? Do you tell them at all? Was anyone going to bring up the fact that up until last night Sirius had offered no indication that he was interested in men?

“I should certainly hope so."

Remus’ eyes widened at Sirius' words and if he had been taking a drink it most certainly would have been spit out. James’ eyes focused in on his cup of tea. Lily snorted.

Sirius chuckled and pushed off the wall, walking towards the pot of coffee. He peered into Remus' mug as he passed. "Ah, I see someone likes their coffee how they like their men," he said directly into Remus' ear, pausing to nip at his earlobe.

Black.

Remus felt his cheeks heat up. Payback for my cock comment, he guessed. Was this past playful? This was Sirius though, he could make anything seem flirty.

Lily looked over her shoulder as Sirius walked away. "Something you'd like to share with the class, Black?"

"No," Remus said at the same time as Sirius;

"Well actually-"

Remus lightly hit Sirius' chest with the back of his hand in a signal that he should stop talking. Sirius held up both hands in defence.

The kitchen fell silent, just the sound of Lily's cooking. The banter had successfully delayed the awkwardness, but without it the four were left with their thoughts. Or maybe that was just Remus.

Does Lily feel weird? She's a girl, girls feel weird about things like this. What about James? He's always territorial over Lily. Merlin, does he think that Sirius and I are interested in her? Fuck, what if he thinks we're interested in HIM? Is Sirius interested in him? Is Sirius interested in me? Since when have I been interested in Sirius? Does Sirius even-

Remus was pulled out of his spiral by a knock at the door.

"I'll get it!" James announced, standing up so quickly that his tea slightly sloshed out of his mug on the table.

Sirius peered over Lily's shoulder and tried to snag a piece of bacon off the plate by the stove. "Hands off, Black," she tutted, hitting his hand away.

"Look who showed up after all!" James exclaimed, reappearing in the kitchen with Peter in tow.

"Peter!" Lily smiled and left her station at the stove to give him a hug. Sirius took this opportunity to grab some of the bacon he had been eyeing. On his way to the table he sneakily handed Remus a piece. Remus willed himself to not blush. It was just a piece of bacon for fuck's sake.

Peter gladly accepted Lily's hug. "Mum had to come home early and let me tag along so I could come here!"

"Brilliant, Wormtail!"

*** *** ***

The rest of day went by fairly easy. Having Peter there made things slightly less awkward but Remus could tell that Lily was itching to talk to him about what the hell had happened between him and Sirius. Remus was avoiding her. He was telling himself that it was because he really didn't want to talk about the fact that Lily had indirectly been involved in his hookup with Sirius and not because he was avoiding the topic of Sirius as a whole. The former did play a role, but not as much as Remus was telling himself it did.

Before he knew it, they were all calling it a night again. Sirius made a joke about silencing spells and Lily flushed. Thankfully, Peter didn't clock it.

The sleeping arrangements were what they would have been if Peter had been there from the beginning. Sirius in his room, Lily with James, Peter and Remus in the spare. As anticipated, Peter's snoring was as bad as it was in their dorm.

For the second night in a row, Remus couldn't sleep. He was under the covers on the bed, laying on his back, staring at the ceiling. He couldn't help but think about what had happened in this bed less than 24 hours ago.

"Touch me, please, fuck,"

"Don't fucking stop,"

"Fuck, I'm going to cum, please let me cum plea-"

Remus was getting hard. What if he - no. No. He couldn't go into Sirius' room. It wasn't like last night where Sirius had a real reason to come in. Well, he could blame Wormtail's snoring...

Fuck it.

Remus quietly got out of bed and stepped over a sleeping Peter on the air mattress. He slowly opened the door, and left the bedroom. With a quick Lumos, he walked down the hallway, past James' door, and a little further: Sirius' room. Remus hesitated, realizing he didn't exactly have a game plan. What was he going to do, walk in and say "Hey Sirius, I can't sleep 'cause Wormy's snoring and also I can't stop thinking about what you sound like begging me to let you cum, mind if I come in?" Maybe skip that middle part. That could work, yeah.

Remus raised his hand to knock on the door, and jumped back in surprise when the door opened, revealing a pyjama-clad Sirius. Sirius swore and put a hand on his chest.

"Merlin! Moony, don't sneak up on me like that!"

"How was I to know you were going to open the door right as I got here?"

"I thought you had super-hearing! You should have heard me," Sirius teased, catching his breath. Remus rolled his eyes. "What were you doing here anyway?"

Remus felt his hands get a little clammy with nerves. "I, uh, couldn't sleep?" It came out as a question and Remus mentally face palmed for his lack of game. Had he not just rehearsed what he was going to say?

Sirius cocked his head to the side. "Oh?"

"Yeah, um, you know how Wormtail snores."

Sirius chuckled lightly. "I'm sure the entire Gryffindor Tower knows how he snores."

There was a pause, an unspoken question hanging in the air.

"Did you want to come inside?" Sirius asked.

Inside you.

"Yeah, that would be nice."

Sirius stepped aside and let Remus enter the room, closing the door after him. Sirius had his curtains drawn, his desk chair turned to face the window. Sirius and his stars, Remus thought fondly. As much as Sirius loved to diss the Blacks and their celestial naming conventions, it wasn't the only reason he was top of the class in Astronomy. Remus wished he knew what was going through Sirius' head when he stared up at the night sky.

Remus put out his wand, letting the the moon provide the lighting. He had been in Sirius' room before, but he was always surprised at how much Gryffindor paraphernalia he had strung about. It was extremely comforting though, knowing Sirius had a place where he could be himself. He didn't need to used a permanent sticking charm out of spite, but Remus knew these decorations would remain for years to come. As long as Sirius needed a place, the Potters would provide. A mother's love: the muggle permanent sticking charm.

Realizing he'd been snooping in silence, Remus turned his attention to Sirius. He had a funny look in his eyes. "What?" Remus asked.

Sirius just shook his head fondly and sat on the bed. It was rumpled, he hadn't made it today, or maybe he had just crawled out from under the covers. Either way, it made things feel more intimate than if the bed had been made. Something about the physical proof that Sirius existed in this bed.

The atmosphere was getting to be a lot more awkward than Remus had anticipated. In his brain it was just going to be an exchange of greetings and a shag. He forgot to factor in small talk.

Remus perched himself at the end of Sirius' bed. "Did you want to talk about last night?" Remus' eyes shot up at Sirius' words. He was not expecting Sirius to be the one to bring it up. Sirius must have taken Remus' stunned silence as an answer and started rambling, "Or not, that's totally cool, we can pretend that it didn't happen if that's what you want -"

"Is that what you want?" Remus asked, trying not to show that his stomach was currently doing summersaults.

Sirius started picking invisible lint off his duvet cover.

"Sirius, why were you at the door when I got here?" Remus continued.

"I was going to see if you were awake."

Remus started schooching his way up the bed, closer to Sirius. "Well, I am," he said, now sitting beside Sirius, their backs against the headboard.

"I can see that," Sirius teased, bumping his shoulder into Remus'.

The beat of silence was thick. Remus felt a tightness in his chest, he could feel his heart beating.

"It's not what I want." Sirius said, responding to Remus' earlier question.

Remus swallowed thickly. "I -" he started, looking straight ahead, too scared to look over at Sirius. "I don't want to either."

Confessions out in the open, they were back where they started: unsure as to what the next move was.

Remus finally turned his head to look over at Sirius, only to find him already looking back. Eye contact was too much, Remus was having to remind his body how to breath. But he caught Sirius' eyes glance down. It was quick, fleeting, like he was holding himself back, unsure. Remus realized with a start that Sirius might be just that. He didn't know much about Sirius' sex life, just his reputation. Even then, it was only ever girls. Remus knew Sirius liked girls. He knew that Sirius had snogged girls at parties. Did he kiss them during sex or was it just a quick shag? Remus thought back to last night. They hadn't kissed. Hell, they hadn't even looked at each other. He wouldn't have called their hookup intimate. But right now, with the way Sirius was looking at him, how he slowly wet his bottom lip? This was intimate.

Sirius wanted Remus to kiss him. And fuck did Remus want to kiss him too.

Remus angled his body slightly and started leaning in excruciatingly slow. His heart was pounding, he felt like his entire body was shaking. He could feel every cell in his body. There was a knot the size of a tennis ball stuck at his sternum. Remus silently told himself to get a grip, this wasn't his first kiss. Why was he so nervous? They had already fucked for Christ's sake.

And then, as soft as a whisper. The flutter of eyelashes against a cheek. The brush of a small exhale. Remus felt Sirius' lips press nervously against his own. Their lips slotted together, and Remus was delighted to discover Sirius' lips were as soft as they looked. Their lips didn't move, it was just a press. Remus slowly pulled away with a wet sound as their lips detached. Suddenly his blood was flowing again, going straight to his brain. It was a headrush, kissing Sirius. He still felt as if his whole body was vibrating at a low frequency.

Sirius let out a nervous breath, the sound akin to a sigh of relief. Remus noticed that Sirius' hands were shaking where they rested on the bed. The two of them looked up at the same time, making eye contact. The kiss hung between them before they both let out a shaky laugh.

"Have you ever-" Remus asked.

Sirius shook his head. "No. But I've wanted to."

Remus nodded, understanding. There was a different kind of rush from a first queer kiss.

"Can I, uh, - could you - can we -" Sirius started a couple sentences, unsure how to phrase his want.

"I'd really like to kiss you again, if that's what you're asking," Remus provided, holding back a smile. For once in their relationship, Remus was the more experienced one.

Sirius' cheeks reddened slightly. "I'd - yes, yeah."

As the last word was leaving his lips, Sirius leaned in, reaching his hand out to cup the base of Remus' neck and desperately pulled him closer.

The second kiss had a completely different energy than the first. Their mouths moved together messily, trying to find a rhythm. Remus reached out for Sirius' waist and pulled him closer. Sirius' other arm wrapped over Remus' shoulder, melting their chests together. Remus hummed at the contact and Sirius responded by opening his mouth slightly, introducing his tongue to the kiss. Remus gladly accepted.

They continued to explore each other's mouths, and Remus could feel himself starting to get hard. He tightened his grip on Sirius' waist and Sirius let out a slight moan in response. With some shuffling, Sirius lifted one of his legs over Remus' lap and positioned himself so he was straddling Remus.

Remus groaned at the new position and wrapped his arms around Sirius, his hands splayed across Sirius' shoulder blades, pressing him closer. Sirius started needily grinding himself against Remus. Remus was delighted to find out that Sirius was just as turned on as he was and pressed his hips up in time with Sirius' movements.

Remus broke the kiss and began trailing his lips down down Sirius' neck, starting at his jaw, just below his ear. Sirius stretched his neck to the other side to give Remus more access.

"Sorry that I left a mark last night," Remus muttered, his tongue lightly grazing the hickey at the bottom of Sirius' neck, exposed by the stretched out collar of his shirt.

"Shit, Moony, I'm not," Sirius responded with a slight chuckle.

Remus groaned into Sirius' neck and tightened his arms around Sirius. "I'd love to mark you up, let everyone see," he admitted.

"Please," Sirius breathed.

After the go-ahead from Sirius, Remus playfully bit down on a spot just beside the mark from the previous night. Sirius' breath hitched and his nails dug into Remus' back through his shirt. Remus started sucking on the skin until he was certain there would be a deep bruise. Happy with his work, Remus gave it a lick. He moved his hands down Sirius' back until his fingers reached the hem of Sirius' shirt. He gave it a little tug.

"Can I take this off-"

"Fuck, please, yes," Sirius all but begged. Remus laughed lightly and helped Sirius pull the shirt over his head, tossing it away.

Remus paused to drink in the sight of Sirius without a shirt on. There had been an urgency to their actions last night, so much so that the pair had remained half-clothed. It was sexy, sure, being so desperate for each other that they couldn't waste time with removing all their clothes. But this moment was charged with something else. Remus had finally been given permission to look. And oh was it a sight. He had seen Sirius shirtless before, sharing a dorm for 7 years would do that, but he had never looked at Sirius' chest. There were a couple of freckles ghosting his upper chest. Some small, pale scars acquired over the course of their Marauder antics at Hogwarts littered his sides.

Remus placed his hands on the small of Sirius' back and Sirius shivered slightly. Remus gave him a look. "Your hands are cold," Sirius explained with a small laugh.

Remus apologized and started kissing down Sirius' chest, starting between his collar bones. He paused every so often to suck a light mark onto Sirius' chest and was met with a gasping moan each time.

Eventually, Sirius had had enough of Remus' light teasing and started pawing at Remus' shirt. "Take this off, please."

Remus was happy to oblige and quickly pulled his shirt over his head, throwing it to the side. He could find it tomorrow.

Once they were both shirtless, Remus returned his hands to their place on Sirius' back. Sirius wrapped his arms over Reums' shoulders again, pulling their chests flush together, and reattached their lips.

Remus moaned into Sirius' mouth at the contact, loving the feeling of Sirius' chest against his own. Remus had never really been one to pay much attention to nipples, but there was something so deliciously erotic about the feeling of Sirius' hardened buds against his own bare chest.

Desperate for more, Remus trailed his hands along the waistband of Sirius' pyjama pants until they met at the front, right above the drawstrings. He let his fingers wander, lightly palming Sirius through the fabric. Remus made a mix of a gasp and a groan when he could feel that there was nothing else under the sweatpants, just Sirius.

Sirius mewled into Remus' mouth at the contact. Remus took this moment to break the kiss. Sirius' cheeks were flushed, his eyes hooded. Seeing Sirius like this flipped a switch in Remus' brain.

"Fuck," he moaned, closing his eyes, pressing his forehead against Sirius'.

Sirius laughed, an exhale out of his nose. Remus felt it, the air cold on his wet lips. "I think that's the idea," Sirius teased.

Remus couldn't help the smile that formed when Sirius said this. This was uncharted territory in their relationship, yes, but it was still them. It was still just Padfoot and Moony, Remus and Sirius. And of course they were the type that laughed during sex.

"Oh shut it," Remus joked back.

Sirius tugged at the hair at the base of Remus' neck. Remus opened his eyes and pulled away from Sirius slightly, just to get a better look at him. "Make me?" Sirius asked, cocking his head to the side.

Remus suppressed a laugh, "Was that you trying to be sexy?"

Sirius frowned, "Yeah. Or, no? Was it sexy?"

Remus' smile broke free. "Mm, just a little. Needs some work."

Sirius groaned in defeat and pulled away from Remus, dramatically falling backwards on the bed. Remus gazed fondly at his best friend, splayed out on the bed, his messy hair haloed around his head. He really was breathtakingly beautiful. Sirius brought his arms up to his face, crossing them to cover his eyes.

Remus untangled himself from Sirius' legs and leaned over Sirius' chest, caging him against the mattress. He started peppering kisses down Sirius' stomach. Sirius gasped at the contact and went to move his arms away from his eyes. Remus snapped a hand up to hold Sirius' arms in place. "Keep them there," he said into Sirius' skin. Sirius moaned in agreement and Remus let go. "Good boy," he said, recalling the praise from last night. Sirius made a sound in the back of his throat.

When Remus' lips grazed Sirius' waistband, he quickly undid the drawstring and slipped his fingers under the fabric. He gave a little pull as a silent request and Sirius lifted his hips off the bed, allowing Remus to pull down and off the sweatpants, tossing them in the same direction the rest of their clothes had went.

Finally, Remus got a good look at Sirius' naked body. His cock was hard and thick, the swollen head sticky with precum. Remus leaned down and gave the tip a swipe with his tongue, loving the salty taste of Sirius.

"Oh, fuck, please," Sirius moaned. Remus pursed his lips and continued to lower his head, letting Sirius' cock push into his mouth.

Remus continued to lower his lips over Sirius, taking more of him in his mouth as he went. Remus didn't have much experience sucking cock, but he felt that his knowledge of what felt good to him could at least lead him in the right direction. And judging by the sounds coming from Sirius, he was doing something right.

Remus hollowed out his cheeks and started bobbing his head. He pointed his tongue and used it to tease at the underside of Sirius' dick as it pumped in and out of his mouth.

"Fuck, Moony, you're really good at that," Sirius laughed breathily.

Remus flicked his eyes up to look at Sirius, happy to see that he had kept his arms over his eyes in a makeshift blindfold. Sirius' lips were parted, his mouth open in pleasure.

Remus pulled off of Sirius with a pop and Sirius whined at the loss of contact. "Lube?" Remus asked.

Sirius pulled his arms off his face and started to sit up. "If you pass me my wand I can-"

Remus shook his head, "I want to do it myself this time."

Sirius blinked a couple of times before answering. "Oh, fuck - I mean - Merlin, yeah that would be so - in the top drawer, shit-" he groaned and let himself fall back onto the bed.

Remus chuckled at Sirius' fluster and leaned backwards to reach the top drawer of Sirius' bedside table. He grabbed the half-empty bottle and brought it back over to where Sirius lay.

He popped the top and slicked up his fingers. Sirius' eyes tracked Remus' every movement and he spread his legs in anticipation.

"Mm, excited are we?" Remus teased, running his other hand up and down Sirius' upper thigh.

Sirius hummed in response. "I haven't done it this way in ages."

The words went straight to Remus cock. His hand lightly cupped Sirius' balls and his fingers inched closer to Sirius' hole. "Oh?" He asked. Sirius flushed in embarrassment. Remus started to push at the ring of muscles. "Have you fingered yourself, then?" Sirius didn't answer. Remus pushed a single finger inside Sirius. "You have, haven't you?" Remus got all the way to the first knuckle before pausing. Sirius whined in protest. "Come on, you can tell me."

"Yes," Sirius whispered.

Remus smirked. "Sorry, I didn't hear that." He pressed his finger further inside Sirius. Sirius made a sound that was a mix of a moan and a whine. Torn between pleasure and embarrassment.

"Fuck off, I know you did."

"What if I just want to hear you say it again?" Remus asked. Sirius moaned as Remus started pumping his finger. "Will you say it for me? Tell me what you thought about while you fingered yourself."

Sirius shook his head. "'s embarrassing," he said.

Remus added a second finger. "Oh? Now I have to know. Come on," Remus pushed his fingers deeper. "Be a good boy and tell me, yeah?"

"Fuuck," Sirius moaned out, closing his eyes in pleasure. "You, ok? I think of - fuck right there - I think of you."

Remus smirked. He was hoping for that answer. "Yeah? What was I doing? Come on, use your words."

Sirius' cock twitched. "This. I pretended it was your fingers. Stretching me out," Sirius paused. Remus could tell there was more he wanted to say. He started scissoring his fingers, trying to get the rest out of Sirius. "And you were - ah - you were telling me how good I was being for you." Remus added a third finger at the end of the confession.

"See, that wasn't so hard, hmm?" Remus teased, pressing his fingers deeper, searching for Sirius' prostate.

Sirius whined and started wiggling on the bed. "Please, Moony I'm ready, I need you," he begged. While Remus wanted to keep teasing Sirius, his cock was straining in his pyjama bottoms. He was getting to be just as needy as Sirius.

Remus pulled his fingers out of Sirius and tugged off his bottoms, trying not to show how desperate he also was for this.

When his pyjama bottoms and underwear joined the rest of their clothes on the floor, he turned his attention back to Sirius. He was still on his back, half sitting up, propped on his elbows. He had a hungry look in his eyes as he traced over every inch of Remus' body.

Remus gave his cock a couple tugs as he looked down at Sirius. "That's so hot," Sirius moaned.

Remus chuckled and hooked his arms under Sirius' legs and yanked him up the bed. Sirius lost his balance and let himself fall back on the bed. Remus grabbed Sirius by the thighs and spread them so that Sirius' ankles pressed against Remus' shoulders. Remus grabbed the bottle of lube from where it lay discarded on the bed and applied a generous amount to his cock.

He pulled Sirius closer and lined himself up with Sirius' hole. He glanced up to look at Sirius and was struck with the realization of the intimacy of this. This was more than last night. It wasn't just I'm-horny-and-you're-the-cloest-warm-body, this was a purposeful decision for it to be with each other.

Remus met Sirius' eyes. "This still ok?" He asked, just wanting to be sure.

Sirius started nodding eagerly. "Please, yes, more than ok," he rambled.

Slowly, Remus started pushing in. Sirius' eyes squeezed shut. "Fuck, you're so tight," Remus moaned.

"I think you're just huge," Sirius supplied.

Remus accepted the compliment and continued to ease himself into Sirius. "You can take it," Sirius let out a long moan in response.

Remus pressed the last inch of his cock in with a quick thrust, earning another moan from Sirius. "See? I knew you could do it," Remus started slowing pulling out and pushing back in. "Such a good boy," he praised.

"Mmhm, so good," Sirius agreed.

Remus started picking up his pace, loving that he was able to see Sirius' face change in pleasure with each thrust. And after a particularly pointed one, "Oh, fuck yes, right there, do that again Moony, pleeaase."

Remus would never get sick of hearing Sirius beg for more. "Yeah?" He teased, hoping to inspire a more vocal Sirius.

"Yeah, yes," Sirius whined, clenching slightly around Remus.

"You feel so good," Remus groaned, getting lost in the feeling of Sirius.

"Moony?" Sirius asked, and Remus slowed slightly. "I wanna be on top, let me be on top."

Remus' eyes rolled back. "Fuck, yeah," He pulled out of Sirius and sat back on the bed, his back against the headboard. Sirius sat up and crawled up the bed. He put a thigh on either side of Remus and positioned himself over Remus' cock before slowly easing himself down. Remus reached up and pushed back Sirius' hair from where it was stuck to his forehead with sweat. Once fully seated, Sirius reached up to grab the top of the headboard as leverage and began bouncing on Remus, his eyes squeezed shut, mouth open in pleasure.

It was the hottest thing Remus had ever seen. "Fuck, you look so good like this," he said.

Sirius opened his eyes, and Remus stood corrected. This was the hottest thing he had ever seen. Overcome with feelings, he wrapped his arms around Sirius' waist, pulled him closer and hungrily pressed their lips together.

Sirius melted into the kiss. It was sloppy, Sirius was still bouncing up and down. It was more tongue than lips, but it was exactly what they both needed. They needed to be close, connected in every possible way. Remus squeezed his arms tighter around Sirius. Sirius arched his back in response so that his cock was pressed tightly between their chests, getting the friction he so desperately wanted.

Remus broke the kiss but kept their foreheads pressed together. He cast his eyes down to watch Sirius' cock slide between their chests. "Needy little thing, aren't you?" he asked. Sirius mewled in response. Remus let some saliva pool in his mouth before slowly spitting it down, letting it land on the tip of Sirius' cock. Sirius gasped.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuuck," Sirius' bounces started to speed up and lose their rhythm as Remus' spit slicked up his cock. Remus started to thrust up, matching Sirius' movements. "I'm so close," Sirius panted.

"Me too," Remus groaned.

"Kiss me again?" Sirius asked. He didn't need to say it twice. Remus eagerly pressed his lips against Sirius' again. He lightly bit down on Sirius' bottom lip. Sirius gasped and his hands lost their grip on the headboard and fell to Remus' shoulders.

Sirius clamped around Remus again and dug his nails into Remus' shoulders. Remus growled into Sirius' mouth.

"I'm gonna cum, Moony, I -" Sirius pleaded against Remus' mouth.

"Do it, cum for me baby," Remus let the pet name slip out but before he could think too much about, Sirius was babbling out a mix of swears and unintelligible noises, his cock spurting between them.

The feeling of Sirius' cum sliding between them, the rhythmic clenching of Sirius' hole as he came, and the sheer closeness of him was too much for Remus and he came hard and deep inside Sirius. Still desperate for him to be close, Remus tightened his arms around Sirius and pulled him down on his cock in time with his thrusts, ensuring that his cum went as deep as it could.

After they both came down from the intensity of their orgasms, they stayed connected, foreheads pressed together, panting into each others mouths.

Sirius was the first to speak. "Fuck," he sighed. Remus burst out laughing, and Sirius hissed, the laughter making Remus' cock push into him. "Sensitive."

Remus calmed down and apologized. They stayed like that for a moment until the cooling cum on their chests started to get uncomfortable. Sirius peeled himself away and off of Remus, wincing a little. He reached to his bedside table and grabbed his wand, muttering a quick cleaning spell.

He lifted himself off of Remus' lap and rolled himself over so he flopped on the bed beside Remus. He sighed and let out a low whistle.

Remus chuckled and pushed his back off the headboard so he could lay beside Sirius.

On their backs, they turned their heads to face each other. Sirius' cheeks were still flushed, a couple loose strands of hair stuck to his forehead. Remus smiled fondly.

Sirius returned the smile and closed his eyes. "Kiss me again?" He asked softly.

Remus lifted his head off the pillow and leaned over to softly press his lips to Sirius'.

"I've wanted to do that for a while now," Sirius said when Remus pulled away.

"Have sex with me?" Remus asked with a laugh.

Sirius shook his head. "Kiss you." Remus' heart fluttered. He reached out to tuck Sirius' hair behind his ear. "I'd never kissed a bloke before though," Sirius continued, his eyes still closed. "And I didn't want to fuck it up."

Remus moved closer to Sirius on the bed and rolled onto his side to fully face Sirius. "I can promise you that you didn't." He said, pressing another kiss against Sirius' lips. Sirius hummed and rolled on his side, facing away from Remus. He wiggled backwards and snuggled up to Remus.

Remus sat up slightly and reached for the bunched up duvet that was now at the foot of the bed. He pulled it up and tucked himself in with Sirius. He wrapped an arm around Sirius' waist and pressed a kiss to his neck. Sirius hummed.

Neither of them knew what this meant for their friendship. But they could have that talk tomorrow. Right now they just wanted to sleep, content and cozy. Together.

#marauders #marauders era #the marauders #harry potter #james potter #remus lupin #sirius black #peter pettigrew #wolfstar #remus x sirius #wolfstar fic #wolfstar smut

[copperbadge]

Typesetting is one of my favorite parts of self-publishing, not that it has a ton of competition -- writing the book is fun, having people read the book is fun, but the rest of it, editing and proofing and marketing, varies from neutral to unpleasant. Typesetting is just making everything neat and orderly, and doesn’t require a ton of creative energy, so I enjoy it. 

But it’s also a double-edged sword because part of typesetting is reading over the book in detail, and when you’ve read and rewritten and read and rewritten, and then you look at the book in a new document with a new font, you realize you absolutely hate it.

That’s probably not universal. But it’s been pretty consistent for me -- every book I’ve published, I’ve hated it for at least a short period of time while I was preparing it for publication. It never lasts; I’m proud of my body of work and by the time the book shows up in proof copy I like it again. This is always the biggest rollercoaster, the time between finalizing the manuscript and holding the first proof in my hands. 

All of which is to say that I finished the cover this morning and just ordered the first proof copy! I’m liking the design of the front cover: 

The font color is a test -- I may revert it to white, but I’m ordering it in non-metallic gold first to see how it looks. 

The proof should take about two weeks to reach me, at which point I’ll read through it and make any last corrections/changes before release. So we’re on track for a release in May! Likely May 6th, a week before the 2023 Eurovision Grand Final. Which is legit very exciting. 

[ID: An image of the front cover design for Twelve Points; the title is in “blackmail letter” style font, each word looking like it’s been cut from a newspaper, below which is an electric guitar in shades of light blue.]

#shivadhverse #the twelve points of caleb canto #self-publishing

[marbearmarigold]

Phwale

My phan whale au as requested by at least one person

I don't know how y'all format fanfics on here so well I Salute You

Dan and Phil are two YouScuber whales enjoying their successful career and comeback, when a different channel pops up, hosted by two whales that look Exactly Like Them.

It had happened before.

When that channel first published, spawned was a more apt term, Dan and Phil found out from the YouScube home page. The two whales were huddled around Dan's blubtop, staring in disbelief.

"DanAndPhilCRAFTS?" said Phil, incredulously.

"We didn't make this, right?" Dan turned from the screen to look at Phil. He flicked his tail a little in stress. "I mean, we could have been deleriously drunk and filmed this...... and cleaned it up before morning..... and edited before morning..... and scheduled the post before... morning......."

"We did not make this."

"Then why are we in it? Why are we in this video?"

"I don't know," said Phil, "But we should probably watch it."

He reached over and pressed play.

They never spoke about it publicly, that year or the two following. Thankfully, the date of the upload meant that their audience assumed it was an April Fool's Day video, and that continued until today. For the most part.

There were murmurings of "crafties" of course, but they were few and far between. And since the channel hadn't posted in 7 years, Dan and Phil figured the dopplegangers had moved on, hopefully to other, more wholesome activities.

Which meant that this April 1rst hit them like an anchor.

"Oh my Neptune." Phil dropped his bowl of Kelpies onto the coffee rock in shock.

"What?" Dan swam over.

Phil showed him his shellphone, he'd been scrolling Twitter and found a screencap from YouScube.

"What?" Said Dan again. "Why? Why are they back it's been years!"

"I don't know."

They watched the video of course. It was longer than the other ones. It started out normally, as normal as a DanAndPhilCRAFTS video could be.

"Hello Crafties!" The opening line sent shivers down Dan and Phil's spines. Seeing a whale that looked like Dan speaking words he'd never said was always creepy.

They made their usual claims, that they'd been posting twice a day every day, even though this was the fourth video on their channel. They said their usual phrases: "soft and neat" "pro-tip" "mother" "Him". Their chaos beamed through the screen like sunlight through through the waves. "Don't cry, craft!"

And then....

And then it got even more sinister. The whales started filming outside, in a remote and deserted cove it looked like. They dissolved all four crafts in acid to summon Him. They went to an abandoned shipwreck covered in arcane and sinister symbols.

Dan and Phil watched all of this in horror, dread creeping up their tales. The comfort of their livingroom dropped away, they weren't in their home anymore, they were viewing themselves performing horrible acts.

They watched as Dan killed Phil. That had happened in the sea cucumber prints video, but this was more visceral. They could see the blood floating in the water, the pain in Dan's eyes as he swam to Phil's body onto the giant symbol in the middle of the deck.

Dan carved out Phil's heart.

Dan addressed the audience for the first time since they destroyed the titular slime.

"Hello crafties," He was out of breath, the sacrificial act clearly exhausted him both physically and emotionally. He took blood from Phil's heart and painted it onto one fin.

"Art.... is important."

He spread blood on his other fin.

"Soft..... and neat."

He began to do the same to Phil's fins, pressing the whale's own blood into his dead body.

"Creativity.... is nothing without friendship."

Phil's fin dropped to the floor.

"Don't cry...... Craft."

The last shot of the video was Dan and Phil, above the symbol, fin in fin. Alive? Dead? Something else? And a figure swam up behind them.

A mer-goat.

A Demon.

The water churned, white-hot, and the video ended.

YouScube auto-played one of their gaming channel videos, and the Dan and Phil sitting safe in their house were jarred back to reality.

Dan slowly reached over and clicked the airbar to pause it.

They sat in silence for a long time.

They didn't really need to speak. They knew what the other was feeling, and what the other would think about what they were feeling.

It had gone too far. The public would think it was a well produced April Fool's video. But they knew the truth.

It was real. There was a demon out there.

And Dan and Phil had to figure out what was going on at last.

"Well, Phil," Dan said, "Where do we go first?"

#phwale #phanfic #finally #i thought this wouldn't take that long to write And Yet #goddamn i meant to type #phinally #i really hope somebody likes this it took so much brain power #dan and phil #phan

[ofstoriesandstardust]

changes teaser (j.h.s.)

part of second star to the right (and straight on 'til morning)

note: i'm so desperate for validation and i wanna hear people's thoughts about this so far so please let me know what you think!!

warnings: swearing, college!AU, small mention of javynat/icemav

“Remind me after class that I wanted to talk to you about what you’re planning for post-grad.” 

You quirk an eyebrow. “Why?” 

He huffs out a laugh, collecting his papers. “I might have something for you.” The room has slowly begun to fill up as the two of you have chatted, meaning class is just about ready to start. Pete hangs by the front podium, letting everyone get settled. 

Your eyes glance over your computer screen at the non-existent Canvas page, meaning Pete has yet to publish it. The papers in his hands are what you suspect are copies of the syllabus he probably finished over breakfast with Tom this morning. Typical. 

“...dude, this is going to be such an easy credit, I’m telling you.” One of the men behind you says. “He’s just Bradshaw’s quirky godfather. You just gotta say something nice about the Navy and he’ll give you an A.” 

You snort, shaking your head at Bradley feeding his athlete friends with lies about his godfather’s class. You had taken enough of Pete’s classes to know that retired decorated Naval aviator or not, Admiral husband or not, Pete welcomed critical and open discussion of the United States military’s global engagement. Encouraged it, even. 

One of the men behind you sighs and you hear him lean back in his chair. “All I need is an easy A. Gonna skate through this class no problem.” 

“Shit, I forgot my pen. Jake, do you have one?” 

“Javy, I don’t even have a notebook. What makes you think I have a pen?” 

“Reuben?” 

“Sorry Javy, you’re straight shit outta luck. I only have one for myself.” 

The man, Javy, groans. “Fuck me.” 

“Pretty sure Natasha did just that last night based on the- ow.” 

“Hey, psst. You, girl in the front.” You startle, turning around to face the boys. “You got a pen for my friend Javy here?” Reuben asks.

You nod, digging through your bag for your pencil case. “Pencil or pen?” 

“Whatever you got’s fine, sugar. Right Javy?” The blond says, nudging his friend. You roll your eyes to yourself, unimpressed. 

“Here.” You say, leaning up to hand the black pen to Javy. 

“Thanks, I’ll give it back to you at the end of class.” Javy says with a warm smile as he takes it from you.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ve got plenty.” You say with a wave of your hand, already turning back around.

#jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #top gun: maverick #second star to the right (and straight on ‘til morning)