#I can actually make it through this. like this year I understand and know I’ll be back to my old self. and I’m so mf’in ready

[pucksandpower]

Black Magic

Charles Leclerc x witch!Reader

Summary: famously non-superstitious Charles takes drastic measures to break the Monaco curse

Charles rubs his temples as he stares at the phone, mentally rehearsing how he’s going to convince you to meet with him. He knows it’s a long shot — from what his mother told him, you’re not exactly eager to use your … abilities, as she called them. But he’s desperate at this point after years of the Monaco curse haunting him.

He takes a deep breath and taps the call button. It rings once, twice, three times before you finally pick up with a cautious “Hello?”

“Y/N? Hi, this is Charles Leclerc. I was given your number by my mother ...” His voice trails off as an awkward silence stretches between you.

Finally you respond, sounding confused. “Pascale? But why would she ...”

Charles rushes to explain. “She said you might be able to help me with … well, with breaking a curse of sorts. One that’s been plaguing me for years at the Monaco Grand Prix.” He pauses, cringing a little at how ridiculous he sounds saying it out loud.

There’s another long pause before you let out a soft sigh. “I should’ve known this would happen eventually. Listen, I only do that kind of thing for family emergencies these days. Curses and spellwork … it’s not something I take lightly.”

“I understand,” Charles says quickly. “But you have to know what the Monaco Grand Prix means to me. It’s my home race, the most meaningful one on the calendar for me. And yet, every single year something goes wrong — mechanical failures, crashes, bad strategy calls, communication issues. It’s like I’m cursed to never win it.”

You’re silent for a moment, seeming to consider his words. “I’m aware of the … situation,” you say finally. “But even if I did agree to look into it, breaking an actual curse isn’t something that happens overnight. It would take time and effort.”

“I’ll give you anything you need — time, money, whatever it takes,” Charles insists. “Just … please. I’m desperate here. My heart can’t keep taking these kinds of blows.”

Another pause, then a resigned sigh. “Okay, fine. But you have to promise to take this seriously and listen to what I say. No skepticism, no brushing it off as some kind of joke. This is real to me.”

Relief floods through Charles. “Yes, absolutely, I promise. When can you come by? I’m staying in Monaco until the race next weekend.”

“I’ll need a little while to prepare,” you say slowly. “But … I can try to come by Tuesday? We’ll need to talk more about this in person.”

“Tuesday is perfect,” Charles agrees eagerly. “Truly, thank you for this. I’ll make sure you’re well compensated for your time.”

You let out a small huff of laughter. “You keep your championship hopes, I’ll keep my soul. We’ll call it even.”

A bemused smile crosses Charles’ face at that. “Whatever you say. I’ll see you Tuesday?”

“Yes. I’ll be there Tuesday.” You hang up abruptly, leaving Charles staring at the phone with a mixture of hope and trepidation. He has no idea what he’s getting himself into … but he’s willing to try anything at this point.

Two days later, you show up at Charles’ apartment looking rather apprehensive. He ushers you inside, eyes raking over you with obvious curiosity. You’re younger than he expected, maybe mid-twenties, with a casual air and slight frame that doesn’t exactly scream “all-powerful witch“.

Still, he tries to withhold any skepticism as promised. “Thanks for coming. Can I get you anything? Some wine, or ...”

You shake your head. “I’m fine, thanks. I’d rather just get down to business if that’s okay.”

Charles nods and you both settle onto the couch, an anticipatory silence stretching out. Finally you clear your throat. “So. Tell me more about this … curse.”

And so he does, relaying in exhaustive detail the string of unlikely disasters that have befallen him at nearly every Monaco Grand Prix since he started in Formula 2. Crashes, mechanical failures, pit stops gone wrong, you name it … it’s like the racing gods have it out for him every year on his home streets.

You listen patiently, nodding along, your expression unreadable. When he finishes, you’re quiet for a long moment before speaking. “You know curses and superstitions have existed in motorsports for decades, right? It’s a high-adrenaline, high-risk environment … prime territory for that kind of thing to take root.”

Charles frowns. “Are you saying you don’t believe me?”

“I’m not saying that.” You shake your head. “I’m just … managing expectations here. Breaking an entrenched curse, if that’s even what this is, isn’t easy. It’ll take much more than a couple of days of spellwork.”

He lets out a frustrated breath, scrubbing a hand over his face. “So you’re telling me you can’t help.”

“I didn’t say that.” You eye him levelly. “I’m saying this is going to require time, patience, and an open mind from you. If you’re willing to put in that kind of commitment, then I’ll do what I can. But you have to go into this knowing it might not work.”

Charles is silent for a long moment, weighing his options. Finally he nods. “Okay. You’re right, I’ll stop being skeptical and doubting this. I’m ready to fully commit, whatever that takes.”

A small smile flits across your face and you nod. “Alright then. I’ll need to gather some supplies first, do you have anything personal I can use? Something meaningful, something that represents your driving?”

Charles scrambles up to rummage through his drawers, finally emerging with a battered red fireproof racing glove, handing it over to you. “Will this work? My godfather gave it to me when he first started teaching me to kart.”

You take it with a nod, turning it over in your hands. “It’s perfect. I’ll need to attune it and prepare a few … components.” You glance up at him. “This may take me a day or two. But after that, I can try to get a sense of what we’re dealing with.”

He nods, feeling that flicker of hope rekindle in his chest. “Sounds good. Let me know if you need anything else.”

You rise, slipping the glove into your bag. “I will. And Charles?” You hesitate, looking almost nervous for the first time since you arrived. “I know we’ve only just met, but … I want you to understand how serious I’m taking this. Messing with forces like curses … it’s not something I do lightly. If I can’t help in the end, it’s not for lack of trying, okay?”

Something about your sincere tone puts Charles at ease and he nods. “I know. Thank you for this … really.”

A shy smile ghosts across your lips before you slip out, leaving Charles alone with his doubts and hopes alike. Over the next couple of days, he tries to distract himself with race prep and strategy meetings, but his mind keeps drifting back to you and your mysterious preparations. He’s not sure whether to feel hopeful or just plain foolish for entertaining all of this curse nonsense.

Finally, Thursday afternoon rolls around and you arrive once more at his door, looking oddly serene. You accept his offered glass of wine this time as you settle on the couch, clutching the battered racing glove and a few other strange items.

“Okay,” you say, taking a fortifying breath. “I’ve done what I can to attune myself to your energy and prepare. I should be able to at least get a sense now of what we’re dealing with.”

Charles nods, feeling an anxious flutter in his chest as you close your eyes, seeming to slip into some kind of trance-like state. The seconds tick by, tension building in the air around you. Just when he’s about to break the silence, your eyes fly open with a gasp.

“Wow,” you breathe out, looking utterly stunned. “This is … wow.”

“What?” Charles prods urgently. “What did you see?”

You shake your head, almost looking scared now. “I’ve never encountered anything like this. The sheer scale, the power … Charles, this isn’t just some simple bad luck curse. This is dark, powerful magic rooted over years and years. Maybe even generations.”

A leaden feeling sinks into the pit of Charles’ stomach at your ominous words. “So you’re saying you can’t break it?”

“I didn’t say that.” You draw in a steadying breath. “But it’s not going to be easy. Or quick. This is going to take serious ritual work over an extended period of time. I’ll need more supplies, maybe some help from others. It’s … a huge undertaking.”

You look up at Charles, expression grave. “But I think I can do it. If you’re willing to fully commit and see this through, no matter how long it takes or what I need from you, then I’ll put everything I have into breaking this curse.”

Charles stares at you for a long moment, feeling the weight of what you’re saying. This is so much bigger than he ever imagined. Part of him wants to run from the sheer enormity of it all.

But then he pictures it — finally winning his home race after all these years, the crowd roaring as he drinks in the euphoric feeling. No more bad luck, no more disasters clouding his joy. Just pure triumph.

His jaw sets in determination as he meets your eyes. “Whatever it takes. I’m in.”

A slow smile spreads across your face and you nod. “Okay then. We’ll get started right away. This may get … intense at times. But I’ll be right here with you every step of the way.”

“Thank you,” Charles says fervently. “Truly, thank you for taking this on.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” you reply, something sparking in your eyes. “We’ve got work to do.”

And just like that, you dive into preparation mode — making lists, sending messages, gathering spell ingredients and components that have Charles raising his eyebrows more than once. He tries to follow along as best he can, but it’s like a foreign language to him.

After a while, he can’t help but ask. “So … did you always know you could do this kind of thing? The witchcraft, I mean?”

You pause, considering his question. “It’s a family tradition, passed down. My grandmother started teaching me from a very young age. But I’ll be honest … I never fully embraced it until recently.”

Charles feels himself grow curious. “What changed your mind?”

A strange look crosses your face and you’re quiet for a moment before replying. “My grandmother was ill. The doctors had … given up, more or less. So in desperation, I tried to help the only way I knew how. And it … worked, somehow. After that, it was hard to keep denying what I could do.”

“Wow,” Charles says softly. “That’s amazing. I can’t even imagine ...”

You shrug, suddenly looking almost shy. “It’s a lot, I know. Probably hard to wrap your head around. Which is why I appreciate you being so open-minded about this.”

Charles gives you a crooked smile. “Well, I’m relying on you here. I figure I should at least return the favor and be open-minded.”

A surprising laugh escapes you and you shake your head in amusement. “You’ve got a point there.”

A surprisingly comfortable silence lapses between you, broken only when you glance at your watch. “Alright, enough waiting around. We should get back to work if we want to be ready before race day.”

Charles feels nervous anticipation flutter in his chest again. “You really think we can pull this off that quickly?”

“We have to try,” you reply, already focused and in work mode once more. “Just be prepared … this isn’t going to be easy for either of us.”

Charles swallows hard and nods. “I’m ready. Let’s do this.”

Over the next several days, Charles is swept up in a whirlwind of strange rituals and practices — chanting, incantations, symbolic offerings, things he never could’ve imagined before this week. You lead him through it all with a calm patience, guiding him every step of the way.

It’s completely draining, leaving him wrung out and exhausted every night … but he can’t deny the noticeable shift he feels with each passing day too. It’s almost like a weight, a cloud of dread he’s carried for years, is slowly dissipating. He tries not to get his hopes up, but it’s hard … especially with the way your face glows with quiet pride whenever your eyes meet his.

Finally, the night before the race arrives. You’ve worked practically around the clock except for when Charles had to leave for free practice and qualifying, both of you barely sleeping or eating as you poured everything into breaking the curse.

As the sun sets over Monaco’s famed harbors and hills, you finally seem to pause, taking a deep breath. “Okay, I think … I think that’s everything we can do for now.”

Charles stares at you with a mixture of hope and trepidation. “You mean … it’s done? The curse is broken?”

You exhale slowly, looking suddenly drained but at peace. “As much as it can be, at least. The groundwork is laid, the ritual completed. But actually severing that kind of ancient tie ...” You shake your head. “We’ll have to see what happens tomorrow. I’ve done everything I can.”

Relief and gratitude wash over Charles as he reaches out to grasp your hand impulsively. “Thank you,” he says fervently. “For all of this … I can’t even begin to express how much it means.”

You seem surprised by his emotional outburst for a moment before squeezing his hand back gently. “You’re very welcome, Charles. I’ll be honest, I wasn’t sure I had it in me at first. But you put so much faith in me. That meant everything.”

He holds your gaze, feeling an unexpected sense of connection pass between you. So much has happened in such a short span of time — he came to you a skeptic, but now he feels like he’s been through a transformative experience. And you … you’ve put your entire being into helping him, far beyond any reasonable expectation.

The air almost seems to crackle with tension as you both search each other’s eyes. Then, as if drawn by an unseen force, you start leaning towards each other infinitesimally. Charles’ heart kicks up a staccato rhythm as your faces inch closer together ...

Until finally, your lips meet in a soft, almost hesitant kiss. It’s achingly gentle and sweet, at odds with the intensity thrumming underneath. When you finally part, Charles feels almost dazed, his heart pounding.

“Wow,” he breathes out, unable to tear his eyes away from yours. “That was ...”

“Yeah,” you murmur back, looking equally affected. “It was.”

A silence stretches out as you simply gaze at each other. So much has passed between you in these short days — an entire lifetime’s worth of intimacy and connection. It’s overwhelming and exciting all at once.

Finally, Charles seems to shake himself out of the dazed reverie. Clearing his throat, he says gruffly, “Anyway, um … thank you again. I should probably try to get some rest before tomorrow.”

“Right, of course,” you respond quickly, flushing slightly. “The race. Yes, that’s … probably a good idea.”

An awkward pause hangs in the air before Charles blurts out, “You’ll be there though, right? At the race, I mean? As my guest?”

A slow smile spreads across your face and you nod. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

He returns your smile, feeling lighter than he has in years. “Okay, good. That’s really good.”

With that, and one last lingering look, you gather your things and slip out, leaving Charles alone with his whirling thoughts and cautiously rising hope. He has no idea what tomorrow will bring — triumph or despair. But for the first time in his life, he feels like he’s not facing it alone.

As he climbs into bed that night, his mind keeps drifting back to that unexpected, electric kiss and the connection you seemed to share, if only for a moment. He can’t stop replaying it, the softness of your lips, the warmth of your skin ...

With a groan, Charles rolls over, trying in vain to shut off his thoughts. He needs to rest. Tomorrow is everything he’s been working towards for years — his best hope at finally ending the Monaco curse. And you’ll be there, your faith and magic bound to his dream.

Finally, Charles manages to drift into a restless sleep, his unconscious mind swirling with visions of chequered flags and your smiling face in the crowd. Whatever happens, he knows nothing will ever be the same after tomorrow.

***

The next morning dawns bright and clear, a perfect Monaco day. As Charles gets ready to head to the circuit, he can’t shake the anxious flutter in his chest.

This is it. His moment of truth.

Just before he’s about to leave, a soft knock comes at the door. When he opens it, you’re standing there looking almost as nervous as he feels.

“Hey,” you say with a small smile. “Thought I’d come wish you luck in person. And … give you one last thing for the race.”

You hold out a small silk pouch which Charles takes curiously. Opening it up, he pulls out the same battered racing glove he’d given you days ago, now embroidered with strange runic symbols.

“I imbued it with every protection ritual and good luck charm I could think of,” you explain. “As an extra boost on top of the work we’ve already done. Maybe it’ll help settle those pre-race jitters too.”

Charles feels a wave of affection crest over him as he looks at the glove, then back up at you. “You’re incredible, you know that?” He says softly. “Truly, I don’t know how to thank you enough for everything.”

You duck your head shyly, but he can see the pleased flush on your cheeks. “You don’t need to thank me. Just go out there and get that win you’ve been waiting for, okay?”

“I will,” Charles promises fervently. He pauses, then seems to make a split-second decision, stepping forward to cup your face in his hands. “And when I do … I’m taking you out for the biggest celebration Monaco has ever seen.”

Your eyes widen slightly, but you give a breathless little nod. “It’s a date then.”

The corner of Charles’ mouth quirks up. “It’s a date,” he echoes, letting his thumb brush over your cheekbone lingeringly before forcing himself to step back. “I should get going. But I’ll see you out there later?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” you confirm, looking almost as flustered as he suddenly feels. “Good luck, Charles.”

He shoots you one last, blazing look before tearing himself away, hurrying out to his waiting car. The entire drive to the circuit, his heart is pounding wildly in his chest. He can’t decide if it’s just pre-race adrenaline or something more … something sparked by you and that searing, promising look you gave him.

By the time he arrives, gets into his race suit and fireproofs, and settles into the cramped cockpit of his Ferrari, Charles is wound up like a tightly-coiled spring. His eyes keep drifting over to the embroidered glove still clutched in his hand, feeling the weight of everything it represents — your devotion, your magic, and the hope of finally breaking free from years of heartbreak.

As the cars are wheeled out onto the grid and the pre-race festivities begin, Charles scans the garage until his eyes finally land on you. You’re standing with a perfect viewpoint, eyes already locked on him, and when you catch his gaze you mouth “Good luck“ with an encouraging smile.

A determination like he’s never felt before surges through Charles’ veins. He’s going to win this race, not just for himself but for you too after everything you’ve sacrificed. Giving a firm nod, he slips the glove beneath his suit and grips the steering wheel tightly, watching the lights flick from red.

And as they finally go green and the cars roar away, Charles leans into the first turn in pure focus and exhilaration. For once, his mind is clear of any doubt or dread about the Monaco curse. He can only think about racing, about achieving his dream ...

And afterwards, celebrating that dream coming true with you.

***

As the deliriously happy celebrations continue around him at Monza, Charles can barely catch his breath. The euphoria of a hard-fought victory is still pulsing through his veins, that cherished feeling never getting old no matter how many times he experiences it.

He’s in the middle of accepting congratulations from his mechanics when he sees a Sky Sports reporter, making a beeline for him with her microphone in hand. Trying to tamp down his giddy smile slightly, he turns to face her.

“Charles! Huge congratulations on another amazing win today,” the reporter gushes as soon as she reaches him. “You’re really hitting your stride this season, what a comeback from the early struggles.”

“Thank you. Yes, the team has been doing incredible work to get me a car capable of winning,” Charles replies graciously. “I’m just thrilled to be able to deliver for them.”

“And for the fans too, who have been utterly captivated watching this gripping title battle unfold,” she continues. “Speaking of which, I have to ask — the viewers have been flooding us with one question in particular recently. What’s the story behind those little symbols that keep popping up on your race suit collar? Some kind of good luck charms maybe?”

At the mention of the embroidered symbols, Charles feels his lips quirking up into a small, unconscious smile. He should have known someone would eventually ask about them — the fans on social media have certainly been speculating endlessly.

“Ah, you spotted those?” He says lightly. “Well, it’s um … it’s actually something my girlfriend does for me before every race weekend.”

The reporter’s eyes widen with obvious interest, scenting a prime bit of gossip. “Your girlfriend? We had no idea you were dating someone, Charles! Do tell us more.”

Charles lets out a slightly self-conscious chuckle, feeling the tips of his ears going pink. He’s intensely private about his personal life, preferring to keep you out of the spotlight as much as possible. But the story behind the symbols is too meaningful to brush off entirely.

“Yes, well my girlfriend prefers to stay out of the public eye,” he explains carefully. “Let’s just say she comes from a rather … unique background and heritage. She has certain talents and practices that are very important to her.”

The reporter blinks at him in obvious confusion. “Wait, is she some kind of … psychic or something?”

“Not exactly,” Charles demurs, fighting back an amused grin at the mental image. “More like … well, I suppose you could call her a witch, of sorts.”

A shocked silence falls over the surrounding reporters who have tuned into their exchange. For a long beat, no one seems to know how to react to such an unexpected revelation. Charles doesn’t think he’s ever seen the media look so bemused before.

Finally, the reporter seems to find her voice again. “A … witch?” She repeats slowly. “As in, like, cauldrons and broomsticks and the whole bit?”

Charles lets out a full laugh at that. “Well, not quite like that, no. But she does practice certain … rituals and magics, let’s say. Most of which, I’ll admit, still seems completely mad to me.”

The reporter’s expression is one of fascination now as she leans in closer with her microphone. “And she does these rituals and … magics ... for you? Before races?”

“Exactly,” Charles confirms with a nod. “She adds protective symbols and charms onto things like my race suit, my helmet, sometimes other items depending on the ritual. It’s her way of looking out for me, of sending some extra luck and security my way on race weekends.”

He pauses, his smile softening unconsciously as he thinks about you. “I’ll be honest, I was pretty skeptical of it all at first. The whole concept of witchcraft and curses seemed ... well, rather far-fetched, you know? But she’s been so devoted to her practices, so sincere in her beliefs about the positive energies she wants to send my way … how could I not start to believe in it too?”

The media seems to be hanging on his every word now, caught up in this bizarre but undeniably romantic tale. The reporter lets out a wistful sigh. “Well, it’s clearly been working like a charm so far this season! Maybe the rest of the grid had better start looking into getting their own race day witches on board.”

A ripple of laughter spreads through the group at that as Charles shakes his head in amusement. “Yes, I can see that becoming very popular around the paddock.”

“So does she come to all the races then, your witch girlfriend?” Another reporter pipes up curiously. “Is she wandering around doing spellwork in the backrooms?”

“Oh, no no, nothing like that,” Charles chuckles. “She prefers to keep things … subtle, let’s say. Just the little symbols and charms. Though she is here today actually.”

The reporter’s eyes light up like she’s just struck journalistic gold. “She is? And does she get to celebrate with you after wins like this?”

A soft, almost shy smile plays across Charles’ lips as he nods. “Yes, whenever her schedule allows she tries to come to the races. And we’ll definitely be celebrating together tonight, just us.”

He gets a slightly far-off look in his eyes, seeming to get lost in the thought for a moment. The reporters watching on collectively hold their breaths, waiting for him to divulge more juicy details about this mysterious girlfriend.

Finally, Charles seems to catch himself, clearing his throat. “But anyway, I should really get back to the team to share this incredible day with them properly.”

The reporter makes one last attempt. “Oh, go on, just give us her name at least? Enquiring minds want to know about this charming race day witch of yours!”

Charles throws her an apologetic look. “You know I have to protect her privacy. All I can say is … she’s pretty remarkable. And she’ll probably hex me if I start giving out too many details about her!”

Laughs and groans of disappointment rise up from the reporters at being denied the full scoop. But they know better than to push Charles too far. With some final shouted congratulations, they gradually disperse, no doubt rushing off to publish their articles about the shocking revelation of Charles Leclerc’s witchy girlfriend.

As the small crowd clears out, Charles feels a light touch on his elbow and turns to find you standing there, eyes sparkling with amusement and fondness.

“Well, you’ve certainly given the paddock something to gossip about now,” you tease lightly. “A charming race day witch, am I?”

Charles makes a show of rolling his eyes, even as his cheeks flush a bit at your teasing. “What was I supposed to tell them? You know how much I hate discussing our personal lives with the media.”

“I know, I know.” You rise on your tiptoes to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “I’m just giving you a hard time. I thought it was … sweet, actually. How you talked about my practices.”

Charles’ expression softens as he gazes down at you. Ever since that electric evening in Monaco when you first worked your magic on the infamous curse (and him), your relationship has deepened into something truly beautiful. At first, he admits he was still somewhat skeptical of the mystical rituals and protective charms you claimed to do for him.

But race after race, as the victories kept mounting with no traces of bad luck or mishaps, he’s become nearly as devoted a believer as you. And it goes far beyond just race day superstitions now. Seeing the depth of your spirituality, your connection to unseen mystical forces, has opened his eyes in so many ways.

He pulls you flush against him, cupping your face tenderly as he murmurs, “I meant every word. What you do … it means everything to me, you know that right? Whether the magic is real or not, your rituals give me a sense of peace and security I’ve never felt before.”

You gaze up at him with those captivating eyes that never fail to make his heart stutter. “I know. And that’s why I’ll never stop doing them for you. You make me feel … connected. Vital. Like my gifts can actually make a positive impact, instead of being some weird family quirk.”

Charles lets his thumb gently trace the delicate line of your cheekbone, drinking in every detail of your beloved face. “They do make an impact, mon cœur. Probably more than either of us can comprehend.”

He draws you into a lingering kiss, one that sends delicious sparks of heat ricocheting through his body. When you finally break apart, you’re both smiling and slightly flushed.

“Mmm, I should really start charging the team for services rendered, if that’s the payment plan,” you joke breathlessly.

Charles arches one eyebrow at you. “Trust me, they would go broke in a week trying to keep up.”

You let out a full laugh at that, the musical sound making his heart swell. He loves this — the moments of playful intimacy and banter, feeling so incredibly grounded and content with you. Before you came into his life, such tender domesticity always seemed like an impossible dream given his lifestyle.

Pulling you close once more, he nuzzles into the soft skin of your neck, inhaling your familiar scent. “Let’s go home,” he murmurs huskily. “I have a victory to properly celebrate … and I require your particular skills again tonight.”

You shiver slightly in his arms, drawing back just enough to fix him with a heated look. “My skills are always at your service. Shall we summon a portal or ...”

He huffs out a laugh at your playful tone, secretly loving when you tease him about the more fanciful aspects of witchcraft. “Why don’t we just take the car for now? No need to alarm the locals by apparating in the middle of the paddock.”

Chuckling, you lean up to steal one more lingering kiss before murmuring, “Deal. Now let’s get out of here before that reporter comes sniffing around for more gossip.”

Taking his hand, you start leading him away from the crowded pit lane and back toward the nearby motorhomes. With every step, Charles can feel the thrum of excitement building in his veins, fueled by much more than just the adrenaline of his race win.

There’s a steady warmth pulsing deep within him now, a sense of gratitude and contentment that suffuses his very soul. Ever since that fateful day in Monaco when he let you into his life, everything has shifted into vibrant new focus.

He’s never been superstitious, not really — he prides himself on being practical, logical, leaving little room for spiritual or religious beliefs. And yet … with you, a whole unseen mystical world has opened up to him in the most extraordinary way. Even if he still doesn’t fully understand the intricacies of your rituals and practices, he knows with certainty how they make him feel.

Protected. Centered. Empowered.

Loved, more deeply than he’s ever experienced.

As you make your way hand-in-hand through the chaos of post-race celebrations, trading giddy grins and teasing jokes, Charles feels it all shining outward from his very core — past the fame, the accomplishments, the never-ending pressures of being an elite athlete. With you by his side, he’s found a serenity and sense of self far beyond what any championship could provide.

So tonight, as you cuddle together and let your energies flow over him in that uniquely intimate way, he’ll pour every ounce of devotion and love he feels right back into you. Because in the end, that’s the most powerful force of all — one that transcends even the wildest of your spells and charms.

As long as you two are bound together on this path, no force in the universe could ever curse him again.

[chelseeebe]

gimme a hand

okay so i saw a silly tiktok abt how guys take nudes wrong and thought our lovely best friend reader could help eddie take some !! i am a little tipsy so pls excuse any mistakes

mdni. 18+. smut. like, literally just smut. fem!reader x eddie.

“so.. how are things with you and.. whatshername?” clicking your fingers in his face.

eddie scoffs, batting your hand away, “chrissy is her name,” correcting your childish behaviour, “and it’s good, we’ve been.. texting a little,” shrugging nonchalantly.

you and eddie had been best friends for years, though these hang outs were few and far between now. both too busy with the perils of adult life to sit around and smoke weed all day, like you used to.

that meant that your relationship had skewed a bit, no longer as close as you once were. though you still tried to feign an interest in his, mostly nonexistent, love life.

he understood though, your life was far too interesting to care about the very small roster of girls he was seeing.

“texting?” you exclaim, stubbing the embers of the joint out into the ashtray, “so you haven’t seen her since?”

eddie shakes his head, realising that what he had thought was an exciting update, was actually just a pathetic retelling of a long text thread.

“i think we’re just.. testing the waters,” brushing off your disappointment. he contemplates even telling you anymore but what kind of a best friend would he be if he didn’t at least tell you all the details. “she sent me pictures the other day,” wriggling his eyebrows.

“pictures?” a slight mocking tone to your voice that he doesn’t like, “what kinda pictures?”

his face scrunches up, cheeks flaming red, as if it wasn’t obvious. “you know.. naughty ones.”

you whistle, blowing the air from your cheeks in the most sarcastic manner, “naughty pictures.. wow eddie, you’re really moving up in the world. did you send any back?”

his head dips, regretful of ever sharing this with you. you had never had a lack of choice for guys lining up for you. even back in high school. of course you wouldn’t understand.

“no..” shrugging again, “i don’t.. don’t know how.”

“you don’t know how to send nudes?” utter shock rippling through your voice, “didn’t i teach you anything?”

“not how to send nudes!” he hits back, getting increasingly frustrated that you’d rather mock him than help him get laid for once.

“i can help you if you want,” you offer, “i don’t have to watch.. i can just.. guide you?” proposing the question as if it were a completely standard conversation for you two to be having.

“really?” his eyes bright and full of hope.

eddie really liked chrissy, she was sweet and the times they had hung out, they got on well. he just wasn’t equipped to match her flirting, afraid he’d overthink himself into losing her.

“sure,” you smile, grabbing his phone as you stand from the couch, “come on,” beckoning for him to follow you down the corridor to the bathroom.

you bundle into the trailers tiny bathroom, poised in front of the mirror with his phone in hand.

“you stand here..” you instruct, guiding him by the shoulders, “you need to get hard,” grinning as you look at him through the mirror, “i’ll stand outside and just.. tell you what to do, okay?”

eddie’s too high for this, wondering how you’d gone from a joint and a couple of beers to now helping him sext the girl he liked.

you disappear outside, shoving his phone into his chest, the knob clicking quietly as the realisation of what the hell he was doing sets in.

“so..” he poises, swiping onto the camera, posing himself in the dirty mirror, “pull my pants down, right?” wanting to make sure that he got nothing wrong.

“yeah, but not all the way, just like.. a little bit.”

okay, he thinks. tugging his sweatpants down just beneath his balls, his boxers following suit. he was getting hard just thinking about it, the fact that you were instructing him what to do wasn’t helping.

his fingers wraps around the base of his cock, pumping his fist a few times, stifling the groan that had settled in his throat.

this was already weird enough, he didn’t need to make it weirder.

“okay..” his voice quivering, “what now?”

you tut, “pull your shirt up.. or off, it looks bad otherwise.”

eddie does as you ask, taking his shirt off and tossing it into the floor with the rest of his dirty clothes. he peers at the image through the screen, inwardly cringing at how stupid he looked.

“i don’t know,” though his dick was already stiff, aching for him to continue. “i look stupid,” he frowns, attempting to position the phone differently, although nothing seemed to help his pathetic stature.

“no you don’t,” your voice rings through the door, “now you gotta pose it.. make it look good, sexy.”

his eyes squeeze shut, wishing you’d stop talking with that low growl in your voice. this was for chrissy’s benefit, not his. getting off to the sound of your voice while trying to arouse another girl was not the plan.

eddie exhales, opening his eyes to reposition the phone, closer to the mirror. his fist begging to move and finish the job.

nothing helped, in fact, it looked worse than before. chrissy’d block him if he dared sent anything like this.

fuck, he felt like a pervert. this was wrong. twisted.

“have you done it?” you call.

“no,” he gulps, frowning at the image of himself in the mirror.

you huff, knuckles wrapping against the door, “i’m gonna come in, okay?” giving him no time to think before you appear next to him in the mirror.

your eyes fall straight to his cock, widening every so slightly, “wow.. okay,” chuckling awkwardly as you snap back into it. “you have to..” your hand lowers his phone, straightening the camera position for him.

his breath is jagged, on the edge of exploding and splattering all over his bathroom. whatever buzz he had had from the weed had dissipated, replaced by the hazy tingly sensation of your hand near his cock.

“and then..” you look to him, in person this time, not through the safety of the mirror, before wrapping your fingers around the ones that were still lingering around his cock. “do this..” voice trailing off into a low whisper, using his fist to pump his already leaking cock.

a strangled gasp leaves his mouth, heat searing through his body. mind too fuzzy to truly comprehend the shit he was seeing and feeling.

the heat of your body presses against his back, delicate fingers still travelling the length of his cock, “film it,” not once letting your eyes fall from the side of his face while his stay firmly on the mirror in front.

maybe this way he could pretend it wasn’t real, that he was just watching some video and you weren’t actually jerking him off by-proxy.

eddie, ever obedient, presses the record button, sighing into his phone as your his hand continues to move.

his knees almost buckle, kept afloat by the sound of you panting into his ear. it was almost too much, his brain collapsing into itself as your hand takes over, ignoring the phone in his hand to continue making him whine and quiver like that.

the weight of your body presses him into the cold china basin, eyes travelling from his face to his dick and right back up again.

you could’ve told him to jump right now and he would’ve. other hand reaching around to grab onto whatever part of you he could get a grip on.

your lips trace against his neck, lingering against the skin. he couldn’t keep the phone straight, the video would just be some big blur of him groaning and the sink. not that it matters. not while you’re touching him.

“is this good?” you ask, breath tickling against his ear.

eddie nods rapidly, “good.. so good,” fingers twisting around your shirt as his eyes flutter closed. “fuck,” he gasps, the phone slipping from his hand onto the counter when your thumb circles the tip of his dick. an otherworldly feeling he had never been able to feel before.

“yeah?” you grit, pulling his hand, signalling for him to turn. his bones were jelly, body mailable and under your control. his back now pressed against the sink, foreheads pressed together.

one hand holds onto your hip while the other finds your cheek, lazily trying to connect your lips. your knee slides between his legs, spreading them just enough for your other hand to creep between and grab his balls.

“ohh shit,” eddie wails, kissing at your bottom lip, sucking at the skin.

nothing felt real, waiting for his alarm to pull him out of this fucked dream to a sticky puddle and a new perspective on your friendship.

your expert fingers fondle his balls while the other fists his dick, pre-cum making your fingers glisten and move with ease.

his throat squeaks, the most pitiful noise a grown man could’ve made, his bottom lip still latched onto yours.

ten years of friendship and yet the two of you had never even kissed before. wishing you wouldn’t have wasted so much time on actually doing it. a newfound adoration for the sweet taste of your lips and the friction of your palm rubbing against his cock.

“i’m gonna cum,” he babbles, stomach flipping, waves of pleasure crashing through his tingling limbs.

you don’t respond to his whining, your nose brushes over his as his breaths become shallow and staggered. a iron clad grip on your shirt as he teeters over the edge, hips stuttering into your palm.

“ohh fuck,” eddie mewls, bursting all over your hand, “shit.. fuck, oh god,” your eyes dark, gazing down at your hand still wrapped around him, somewhat proud of what you’ve achieved.

he lets go of his hold on your body, hurriedly trying to find the counter to ground himself. his head a million miles away on mars, his lack of thoughts disrupted by the sound of the water running.

chest still heaving as he braves a look at you, watching his release swirl down the drain. you’re chewing on your bottom lip, a sudden realisation that you had just made your best friend cum maybe. he doesn’t really want to ask. hoping you won’t regret it.

eddie picks up his phone, stopping the recording, his thumb shooting straight to the tiny trash can until you grab his wrist.

“don’t delete it,” a fire within your eyes, twisting the screen in your direction, “i wanna watch.”’

his finger hovers over the play button, looking to you though your eyes are trained on the screen, waiting for him to press play.

the video starts, shaky footage as the audio of his pathetic grunts and gasps fill the tiny bathroom. eddie can’t bring himself to watch, forcing himself to watch you rather than the video.

you’re smiling to yourself, smug at the sight of you making him crumble. he wants to be embarrassed, can feel the blood rushing to his cheeks and yet, he doesn’t turn it off.

“maybe don’t send that..” you remark, finding his eye, that mischievous sparkle that eddie hadn’t seen in years, reappearing.

he needed to feel you, in the way that you had felt him. cock already reawakening when your lips twitch into a smirk.

shit.

[thelikesoffinn]

„Astarion ending as the Vampire Ascendant is the correct ending for him, because it is what he wants.”

That is a claim I’ve been seeing pop up more and more often these days. And I think it’s both a very bold and a very odd claim to make.

But first things first: Hello, I’m a licensed social worker! So far, I’ve worked with children, refugees and youths with behavioural issues stemming from bullying and or abuse.

Please be aware that I will be mentioning different kinds of abuse, coping mechanisms, and victim/abuser relationships. If any of this is difficult for you, don’t force yourself through it. My jabbering about a traumatised vampire is not worth your wellbeing, not ever.

I will, however try to stick to Astarion and not use other examples. If, in any case, I do use a non-Astarion example, I’ll add a warning beforehand so that you can skip the part. And I’ll make it clear what will be discussed in the next bit, so that you have a chance to skip it entirely.

This is an effort to make this as accessible as possible for everyone that wants to indulge on a mad woman’s rambling – and I know there’s a few people that like this sort of stuff!

And, uh, there's obviously spoilers for all three acts. Serious spoilers, even.

Before I can get into the whole ‘why Astarion didn’t really want to ascend,’ we need to understand him a little more. And to understand this pretty boy’s brain, we first need to understand the gist of what we’re talking about when we throw around the word ‘abuse.’

“Abuse” is when someone is treated with cruelty, violence, or neglect – often to bad effect – on a regular basis. Repetitively. Check’s out for Astarion, I’d say, but we all knew that already. I mean, if one thing was obvious, it was this.

1. Astarions Abuse

Next we need to look at what kind of abuse Astarion faced over his long years of torment, seeing as different types of abuse will have different effects on the victim.

Not that that is anything we have to worry about with him – Astarion won the abuse lottery, to put it bluntly. In a horrible game of fate, he got everything. He himself indirectly mentions all the types of abuse he faced, albeit never using the correct terms.

The first we properly notice – fitting, seeing as it is often the most obvious form of abuse – is the physical abuse. Astarions scars are probably the biggest tell Larian could shove down our throats, only underlined by Astarion’s tale about the night itself. About how Cazador ‘misspelled something’ every time he flinched or screamed and had to do ‘many corrections. On top of this, Cazador locked Astarion up for months on end and tortured him – or had him tortured – on a regular basis both as a rite and as a punishment.

Next up, we have the fact that Astarion was forced to basically prostitute himself repeatedly. This is what we call sexual exploitation.

“I spent two hundred years using my body to lure pretty things back for my Master.” – Act 2

Two hundred years is a long time, filled with great many people. Now, we don’t know how many of those people actually tapped into the sexual exploitation and how many he could just lure back with other means, but the fact that it happened a lot is undeniable.

Next we have a form of abuse that we often disregard in adults: Neglect. It sounds odd, I know, saying that a fully grown adult was neglected. They can care for themselves, can they not?

Well. Yes and no.

Adult neglect is proceeded by the condition that one adult has to lean on another adult to fulfil their needs for whatever reason. This could be anything, from disability to income-based issues.  

Seeing as Astarion had absolutely nothing, while Cazador had everything, we can assume this was the case. Cazador had the house, the money, the power. Astarion owns but one pair of clothes, assumedly, that he has fixes over and over again. Fair to say, that’s pretty neglectful. (And it’s one more reason to shower the guy in pretty armour and camp clothes. Go ham, people.)

Last we have the form of abuse we actually get to witness later in the game – emotional abuse.

Once again, it’s undeniable that this happened. Especially since we’re all seeing it in the flesh upon meeting Cazador in his crypt.

“Have you no respect for yourself?”

“I strove for perfection in all things. Even those as imperfect as you.”

“A pity you amounted to so little, despite my efforts.”

“A pathetic little boy who never amounted to anything.”

All Act 3, Crypt

Here we have just a few examples of things Cazador throws in his face. It’s like reading a textbook on emotional abuse, this one (and it’s definitely a reason to throw hands).

Blaming the victim, keeping their sense of self and their self-worth as tiny as possible to make them cower and flee. A true classic.

This pretty much shows that Astarion suffered all forms of abuse we commonly see and it is implied – once again by Astarion himself – that at least a few of those instances were ritualistic.

Now, what does that mean exactly? Well, I fear I need to use a real example here, so please skip the next paragraph.

Ritualistic doesn’t refer to a proper ritual – it can, but that’s mostly a thing for those in a cult. So, we’re not necessarily talking about a ‘Vampire Ascendent Ritual’. A husband, beating his wife every evening after his third bottle of beer is also called ritual abuse. It happens regularly. It is part of a routine. Both parties know what will happen.

I can’t find the exact quote, so I’m working of my memory here, but at one point he said that when Cazador invited him to eat and he said yes, he would be served a putrid rat. If he said no, he’d be beaten.

The way it was phrased made it clear that it happened more than once and that Astarion clearly knew what would happen. So, this can be classified as ritualistic abuse.

2. A Note on Conditioning and Compliance

By default, abuse victims are conditioned to behave a certain way or in a certain fashion. This is a natural response to avoid further abuse.

In Astarion, the thing we see most often is his inherent need to please. Not literally, he doesn’t mind being an arsehole. But he initially feels the need to follow Tav’s orders, even if they go against his own wishes.

This can be clearly seen in the conversation with Araj Oblodra. Astarion very clearly doesn’t want to bite her. He doesn’t. But he will do so, if Tav tells him to. This behaviour is not conscious – he doesn’t know why he does it, he just does – and it is to be expected. This is how he kept himself save for two centuries, so of course he will fall back into his usual pattern when the pressure is high.

This goes hand in hand with the fact that most abuse victims don’t fight. Maybe initially, but not after long term abuse. Especially not after two fucking centuries.

This is true in Astarion – offered by his ‘siblings’ during act 3 and unhappily acquiesced by the man himself. Astarion stopped fighting and, once again implied, cowered, and did as he was told in order to survive.

3. The Astarion we know and love

Obviously, all that abuse does have an impact on our vampire boyfriend. He shows various common signs of abuse and just like with the forms of abuse, Astarion raked every coping mechanism he could find. (Not really, but it feels like it.) It’s also important to note that nearly all of the following things happen inwardly. Astarion is not one of the victims, that tries to rationalise and minimise the actions of his abuser. Quite the opposite, actually.

I’ll note from the beginning, that rationalisation will not be covered in this bit, as most examples will be important later on. But he definitely does it.

One of his biggest skills is to hide every ounce of fear or hurt behind sarcasm and snarky theatrics. He doesn’t seem to hide his anger much, though, so that’s something! Our boy is cool with anger, not so much with being afraid.

“Ahahaha, now that you mention it….I might have done…that.” – Act 3, regarding the Gur children

“The thing that will decide my fate forever more? Yeees, it’s been on my miiiind. Why?” – Act 2, regarding the Ritual

And there’s many more instances that prove this. Honestly, half his dialogue is sarcasm, so it would really be too long to get into and we all know what I mean, right? We have alltalked to the guy before. It’s obvious that he’s sarcastic to a fault.

This goes hand in hand with his penchant for defensiveness. I would personally state that he’s simply not really good with guilt. When talking about fear, he usually just opts for sarcasm or avoids the topic completely, but guilt especially has his defences going up. This is also when he’s most likely to shove all the blame off to Cazador.

“Don’t look at me like that. Cazadors orders.” – Act 3, Crypt

“I just did what I had to!” – Act 3, Crypt

And don’t get me wrong, he does that anyway. And with good reason. Astarion didn’t have a choice for the most part, but he’s still easy to shove things off.

This kind of connects to his penchant for denial.

Astarion doesn’t really like to talk about most things. He firmly believes he is an ‘action’ sort of person that just does instead of plans, which invertedly just means he’s great at pushing the thinking stuff away. He also likes to get rid of stuff, so that he doesn’t need to face it ever again.

“I never want to see these little scraps of misery again. The world doesn’t need to know my shame.” – Act 3, about the children

And yes, this partly rings true. He’s probably ashamed and doesn’t want anyone to know what he’s done. But it’s also very clear that he himself simply doesn’t want to face his own actions, something that is just  underlined by his extreme willingness to red rid of the other spawn.

As mentioned by Astarion himself, he’s big on manipulation. I mean, I don’t think there is much explaining necessary. The guy is willing to do a whole lot in order to get what he desires – which mostly revolves around safety and survival, to be honest – and he’s not really shy about it either. And that’s despite the fact that he doesn’t really like intimacy – especially in form of sex.

It’s not a secret that Astarion is not big on sex and anything surrounding it. This goes far enough for people to consider him either ace or ace coded.

A claim that, personally, I’m not super in line with.

Now, it’s not entirely wrong and if this is your head cannon I’m surely not going to stand in your way – but on a larger spectrum, I think he’s more traumatised than ace. And while those go hand in hand sometimes, it’s a bit difficult for the ace community if you attach traumatised characters to them because it can fuel a whole lot of stigma that is honestly neither needed nor wanted. But I digress!

If it comes to his own behaviour, he’s great at minimising his mistakes. Honestly, he’s a master of minimisation. A very obvious and famous example would be:

“’Killed’ feels like a…strong word. Not many corpses have your vigour.” – Act 1, after killing Tav

Astarion. You literally sucked poor Tav dry and left them flopping around, cold, and dead. Killed is exactly the right word and we all know it.

“Quite the deviation from my usual routine. Capture, not lure. I didn’t bring them in with sweet rolls or anything.” – Act 3, Gur Children

This is another attempt at minimising what he did, if a bit less obvious because at this point there isn’t much he can say. But at least he didn’t sexualise the gur children, right? They’re still spawn but whoo, at least that didn’t happen.  

The next point would be dissociation, which is extremely common in abuse victims – of all forms of abuse.

Astarion himself mentioned certain moments that could be classified as dissociation over course of the story, which is probably the coping mechanism I personally expected the most.

The pale elf has a penchant for violence, but he’s not entirely shameless or abhorrently vile, which gets clearer the more the story progresses. So, two hundred years of forced prostitution, torture and doing whatever other horrible things? Yeah, I’d be more surprised if he didn’t dissociate.

Examples of that would be:

“A moment of disgust to push myself through and then I could’ve carried on, just like before.” – Act 2, after Araj

“I felt nothing the moment I handed them over.” – Act 3, Gur Children

“Did you enjoy it? It felt like you weren’t fully there.” – Act 1, Tav after Sex

The latter is generally more of an assumption than actual prove, but with context it does make sense.

The last common sign of abuse we find in our boyfriend would be his low self-worth. It’s a consistent trait that stays over the course of all three acts, noticeable in many different conversations.

We can see it in his reaction to wanting to break up before finishing his story. We can see it in his genuine surprise when Tav picks him over any of the other characters. We see it in his insecurity whenever Tav asks to sleep with another character. He’s fine with it, but he still worries their decision to sleep with someone else is based on something he did.

It eases up ever so slightly after Cazador is dead, but even then he’s still struggling which is once again perfectly illustrated if you try to break up with him.

“Oh shit. I- Did I do something wrong?”

That is the first thing he asks and I think it speaks for itself. He genuinely doesn’t believe he has much to offer and for Astarion, it’s likely that Astarion will always be the problem.

4. "Oh, I tried them all none of them answered.”

Another big thing that’s important to note, is that Astarion was never saved. No one came to save him from Cazador. There was no darling boy on a white steed riding into that castle to rescue him and princess carry him away. Not even the gods answered his desperate calls.

So, he never received any kindness or luck. To him, the world seems as cruel and horrid as before because he didn’t have the chance to experience goodness in two centuries.

But worse than that, he didn’t even get to save himself. Astarion didn’t stand up to Cazador, he didn’t run out of his own might.

He was beaten to near death and ‘saved’ by Cazador, who would become his abuser.

He tried to save someone and, in turn, was locked up and starved for an entire year.

He was abducted by mind flayers, i.e., saved from Cazador, only to end up tadpoled and on the cusp of getting a fancy, squiddy beard.

Anything that’s good, any kindness, any selfless action…it all came with a ginormous price tag.

5. Over the Course of the Story

Astarions behaviour changes a whole lot over the course of three acts – which is important once we talk about his quests climax – so let’s review what we’re working with!

Act 1 Astarion is guarded as fuck. The man has walls around him that are so high, even the gods can touch them.

A lot of his behaviour in act 1 revolves around staying save and staying liked. He lies, manipulates, and flutters his lashes in order to get what he wants and needs. Instead of asking, like Wyll, Karlach and Gale do, Astarion uses all he has to offer to get by. He is still very much in survival mode and tries to weasel his way through an unfamiliar situation with familiar methods.

On top of that, and most notably, he’s absolutely not fond of kindness or selflessness.

#I saved a child and now my boyfriend is mad

Here, we are most likely to gain disapproval for doing the decent thing – unless you sent him outside for a minute whenever you’re being a good person.

And I’d assume that this is because of two things.

First: The very traditional ‘Why not me?’

As I mentioned before, Astarion wasn’t saved. He hasn’t experienced kindness in a very long time so seeing that the world is literally filled with kind people is hurtful. Why didn’t anyone save him? Why was he left to his own devices for so long? Why should he care about others when it’s so clear that no one ever cared about him? No, dead to all of them. If he didn’t get it, neither will they.

“And what am I owed? What about the injustices I suffered? Am I not entitled to anything?” – Act 3, Crypt

“I was in the prime of my life when I was turned. Everything was taken from me too.” – Act 3, Crypt

And secondly is the fact that, as I mentioned, goodness always has a price. And it’s one most people won’t be willing to pay. That’s how his life has been, so why would theirs be different?

This is precisely why Astarion may disapprove of kind actions, but he mostly neither approves nor disapproves if Tav asks for payment. That’s just how the world works.

Once you venture out into act 2, after getting to know him a whole lot more, he starts to mellow a bit – if only towards Tav.

“He’s afraid, so afraid, of everyone but you, who she should fear the most.” – Sceleritas about Astarion

His approval is a lot easier to gain – or at least keep! – and he tends to approve of some more proper actions. He doesn’t throw a fit if you promise to find Mol, he approves of Tav being kind to His Majesty, of saving Aylin and he even approves of Durge apologising to Isobel after threatening to rip her to pieces.

He's slowly starting to open up, allowing Tav to see some parts of him he previously kept hidden. He accepts their offer to help, if hesitantly and, by god, the man starts experimenting with boundaries.

The social worker in me is shedding tears at this. It’s my favourite thing to see in my clients and it’s no different here. Yay to saying no!

Of course, it’s still a bit hit or miss. If Tav urges him to bite Araj, for example, he will only to later notice that he didn’t fucking have to. He recognises this on his own and he calls Tav out on it. Just like he calls them out on not helping him with his Orthon quest.

Good job, chap. Good fucking job.

And the growth-train won’t stop going even as we reach act 3.

In act 3, there’s not many things he disapproves as of right now – those he does, mostly have to do with how Tav treats him and not with anyone else. In fact, he’s more likely to approve good behaviour now, like giving Yenna food or money.

And yes, we need to consider that this could simply be because he gets used to Tav’s behaviour and just learns to roll with it. But it’s also highly likely that he notices that there’s truly good people around. At least one person. And that person is not only good, no, they’re in the process of helping him break free once and for all.

They’re helping him save himself.

By act 3, he has learned that he can absolutely say his piece where Tav is concerned and he’s more likely to disagree with them on certain things. It’s seen during a lot of small dialogue that he’s no longer terribly afraid to be honest with them, willing to listen and talk and he’ll ask for help if he needs it.

“I can do this. But I need your help.” – Act 3, Crypt

Something that can be viewed both positively and negatively is that he’s definitely loyal to a fault. He will stick by Tav’s side, no matter what.

“I really hoped we could avoid being pawns for a dark god, but here we are, I suppose. I’m with you, my dear, wherever this might lead.” – Act 3, After Jaheira confronts durge

As I said, this can be both positive and negative. On one count, it’s a recipe for disaster, seeing as he could be waltzing into a really bad situation for Tav alone.

But on the other side…this is a man who only cared about himself because that is the only person he could afford to care about. He needed to survive. He now has enough room to breathe and the capacity to care for someone else and I’d be inclined to count that as a good thing.

6. The Crypt

All the progress he made in act 2 and 3 is nearly tossed into the wind as soon as the crew enters Cazadors castle.

It’s not an immediate thing, of course.

At first, Astarion tries to stay light and simple and he hides behind flippant tones and relaxed faces. The way he recounts this is almost comically disinterested and the façade is actually quite good.

It’s start’s cracking after we meet Godie, one of the people who tortured him on more than one account, but he mostly manages to remain as upbeat as one can honestly expect for the first half of the journey.

All that, however, is done for the very moment we meet Sebastian. His mask not only slips, no, it full on shatters and there’s none of his apparent lightness left.

Which, of course it does.

The man is suddenly faced with years and years and years of victims. Innocent, unlucky people he lured back to his master over two centuries. People he liked, people he pitied.

“It’s sickening, seeing them again.”

It’s basically a room filled with guilt, exclusively for Astarion. And, as we mentioned before…Astarion is not great with guilt.

The guilt, however, is not where it ends.

No, he’s also faced with reflections of his own past. The spawn pose as reminders of what he did, sure, but also as reminders of what he was.

Weak, desperate, hungry.

There’s an abundance of images of his worst moments, reflected back at him in the thousands. It’s probably like staring into a funhouse mirror, but instead of seeing yourself in a funky way he just sees everything he so desperately doesn’t want to be.

“It should be [who I am]! I don’t want to be like them. They’re pathetic, horrible…”

He’s forcefully made aware of how darn weak he can be, which claws at all the wounds he’s barely had time to close. Something, he of course won’t admit if asked.

“THEY DO NOT [remind me of myself]. That weakness in me is dead, IT’S DEAD. I have a higher purpose.”

The high pressure of the moment brings out all of his act 1 traits in but a few moments. You can pretty much watch how he starts to shut down mid conversation, one of his old walls snapping back into place to remove himself from the situation.

Thing is though, walls usually become a bit brittle after disuse. Especially when talking to a person you don’t usually want to wall out.

Or, in his case, when talking to Tav.

After meeting Sebastian, Astarion shows extreme reactions to Tav nudging any of his weak spots. His reaction varies on whatever choice you make, but it ranges from aggression to defensiveness, to denial and even to downright begging Tav.

“Don’t hate me. I just did what I had to. I swear I did what I had to.”

This probably the most shocking out of all of them, since that is not something we got to witness before. The begging is likely a mixture of intense fear of losing Tav, his low self-esteem and pre-Tav behaviour, since we can assume that Cazador made him beg more than once.

Another old coat he puts back on would also be the least surprising of them all.

Manipulation.

He falls right back into it, using Tav’s affection to get what he want if we trigger the right action.

“If they die and I ascend, I won't have to rely on the parasite to walk in the sun. I'll be free. Truly completely free. Isn't that what you want?”

This, to me, was probably the biggest tell that Astarion was back in survival mode. He’s panicking, for fucks sake, and who can blame the guy? He’s back. He’s about to face down his abuser.

Of course he’s fucking panicking.

Panic leads to an increased craving for safety and, in his case, power. This is why he clings to Tav, why he begs them to love him still. And this is why he jumps head first into the rationalisation pool.

“I will need to sacrifice them all if I want to perform the ritual. - [You can save them.] – What’s the point? They're as good as dead! I thought they were dead. If they are unleashed, they will cause incredible carnage. […] They must die. Better they serve a purpose.”

Another textbook example.

They must die anyway. They’re basically dead. No need to save them now. They’re dangerous, I’m doing the right thing by sacrificing them. I already thought they were dead, so it’s not changing anything for me. They’re a lost cause and I deserve  all this power. I deserve it, because I suffered and nothing will change if they die.

So, seeing as we already spoke about his usual behaviour in act 3 – behaviour he showed after we allowed him to breathe and be himself for a while – I think we can fairly easily conclude he’s not thinking straight.

Astarion is right back in survival mode, where all that matters is he himself. If it weren’t for the seven thousand spawns, he might have moved through this more gracefully, but seeing those tipped the scales and Astarion is absolutely losing it.

Remember that for the last section, per favore.

7. The Ascension

“Astarion wants to ascend and Tav manipulates him into doing what they want.”

That is basically the essence of what people often claim and I can’t help but shake my head at such a blatant disregard of everything he has become. This is completely ignoring the change and growth he has gone through over the course of their journey.

Astarion wants to be free. He wants to be safe. That does not mean he wants to ascend.

And the claim that Tav manipulates him into doing anything is even more baffling. We are all aware that Tav is not manipulative by nature, yes? That is entirely on you. You decide who your Tav is.

And then let’s remember: Astarion is panicked. He’s afraid and he’s not thinking straight. His abuser is on his knees before him and he still feels so weak. And there’s seven thousand spawns that need handling.

Astarion is very much not okay right now.

In fact, reading his thoughts just proves this theory.

“You can see the fear in his eyes but also the hunger. The thick smell of blood in the air and the promise of power being so close is intoxicating to him. All he can see is the power of the ritual and the freedom that power brings. The freedom to do anything. To be anything.”

Tav, however, has none of those problems. They can actually see beyond the current situation and they are fully aware what the consequences are. Astarion is not. As we previously established, Astarion is a doer. Not a thinker. He didn’t think this through, not at all.

The only thing Tav is doing – the persuasion roll – is reminding him of the very real consequences he is facing. The consequences he hasn’t thought about before.

"I know you think this will set you free, but it won't. This power will trap you, just like it trapped Cazador."

And that is the kindest thing Tav could do in this situation. They’re not bodily dragging him away from Cazador. They’re not even telling him to not do it. They’re just offering him the truth. He can do with that information whatever he desires.

“Astarion cries when he doesn’t ascend, that just shows that it was the wrong choice.”

A hare-brained point that I thankfully have only seen once so far.

That crying? That is healthy crying.

That is him, crumbling under the stress that suddenly dissipates. That is him mourning two hundred years of torment. That’s him letting out feelings he hasn’t been able to for centuries.

And, for the love of god, try to put yourself in his shoes.

Two hundred years of torment, ended in but a moment.

Astarion was abused and tortured for so long, afraid for so long only to see his tormentor die just like that.

Cazador died within a moment and all Astarion needed was a darn blade. Of course he fucking cries.

Seeing how pathetic a being the very core of your life’s misery actually is hurts. It hurts like hell because not only are you finally free – free! – no, you’re faced with the fact that this pile of nothing, the thing that’s bleeding out right in front of you…this was what tortured for so long.

This thing hurt you so much. That guy took everything from you, everything you once were, and broke it again and again and again over years.

You were so scared of this thing.

And yet he has the gall and the gumption to die just like that.

It was so easy.

And yet you suffered for so long.

8. Evil Playthrough?

An evil playthrough is really a different setting altogether.

All of this, as you can probably tell, is really only applicable on a good playthrough. Realistically speaking. I’m not sure how the game mechanics handle it.

On an evil path, Astarion never really gets to experience kindness and goodness. Evil Tav will just prove him right in his believe that the world is a vile and cold place, meaning that he realistically would be more inclined to actually want to ascend.

9. Final Conclusion

I think all of this should be enough to make it clear that no, ascended Astarion is not the best ending for the guy. In fact, it is probably the worst. Because it’s just him, running away. He’s running into a lonely and cold state of being, where cruelty and power lord over everything else and he’s running because he’s terrified of being hurt again. He’s running despite desperately wanting to stop running.

“I'll spend the rest of my life running watching the shadows, never feeling safe…no, this has to happen. Here and now.”

And, the worst part is: Nothing about Astarion is left after he ascends. Even his tone of speaking gradually changes, his theatrics fading. He’s slowly losing himself, until there’s nothing but an evil caricature left.

So, in the end, ascension will have proven him right.

That version of him is dead.

[prozach27]

.

[ellecdc]

HIII, I wanted to know if I could request a poly marauders x festy slytherin reader.Something of how they started or whatever you have inspiration for.I would love another part of that, if you feel up to it. Hope you are taking care of yourself <3

feisty/slytherin reader x poly!marauders is actually my favourite thing to write (followed closely by any ship with whimsical reader) so I was more than happy to whip this up for you! Thanks for requesting! 🫶

poly!marauders x feisty, fem, Slytherin!reader

CW: werewolf prejudice, making fun of possible birth defects due to Pureblood's being terribly inbred, swearing

Remus felt that generally, he was a very understanding person. And not just in a compassionate way, but also in a sense that he just understands a lot of things.

He understands Sirius’ need to defy his family whilst simultaneously looking after his brother as if his life depended on it.

He understands James’ need to make sure everyone around him feels as loved as humanly possible, even if it’s at his own expense. 

He understands that Gryffindor’s hate Slytherin’s, but he also understands that not all Slytherin’s are horrible, prejudiced racists.

He understands everyone makes fun of Hufflepuffs for being soft and emotional, but he also understands that Hufflepuffs can be some of the most heartless, ruthless friends you can have.

What Remus has had a hard time understanding, however, was his boyfriends’ sudden interest in you.

Remus could admit that you were quite attractive, but you were also sort of…terrifying?

“What have you boys done?” Lily murmured in quiet horror (quiet awe if you asked James).

“We pranked Slytherin!” Sirius said jovially, as if Lily had somehow missed that key piece of information. 

“I can see that, Sirius.” She said like one might speak to a small child who was quite dumb. “But on portrait day?”

Sirius smiled smugly as he watched Slytherin’s enter the Great Hall for their school portraits. As they passed through the door, they were unknowingly walking under a charmed mistletoe (which was very difficult to find this time of year, thanks James very much) which turned their green and silver robes and ties to a beautiful red and gold. 

The best part is some students still hadn’t noticed yet, and another amazing part was that those who had noticed couldn’t figure out how to turn it back.

“Mr. Black, Mr. Potter, Mr. Pettigrew, and Mr. Lupin. I suppose the four of you have no idea who may be behind this prank?” Professor McGonagall challenged as she looked down her nose at them sitting at the Gryffindor table.

Sirius smirked as he responded “Why, not a clue Minnie. But I’ll keep my eye out and let you know if I see any mischief makers.”

McGonagall let out a long suffering sigh as she took five points from Gryffindor for improper address of a professor. 

“You rotten dugbogs.” Remus heard you screech before he saw you. He had the good sense to cringe as you stormed up to their table whilst Sirius and James grinned enthusiastically. 

“Why hello Y/N, my beautiful angel.” James greeted as Sirius let out a sultry “Don’t you just look smashing in red.” Accompanied by a wink.

“I don’t know what you sods have done, and quite frankly, I don’t care about the rest of them; but you will fix this.” You spat angrily gesturing to your faux Gryffindor uniform.

“But that would be such a crime, dollface.” Sirius lamented.

“You can’t expect us to mess with perfection.” James added.

You shot your hand out and grabbed James’ collar, pulling his face to yours until your noses were nearly touching. 

“I swear to Salazar himself, Potter, if you do not change my robes back, I will cut your dick off and charm it to your forehead so you walk around looking like a limp-dick unicorn. Change. It. Back.”

Your voice was low and threatening, and Peter actually gulped as he hid behind Remus. But looking at James’ face pressed up to yours, you would have thought you had just serenaded him with the greatest love song known to man.

“You have such beautiful eyes.” He murmured in awe. Remus was certain he could see steam forming behind said beautiful eyes, but before it could shoot out of your ears, Sirius came to your rescue.

“Very right, Prongs. She does have beautiful eyes. Unfortunately, I believe her usual green does compliment them better than the red.” Sirius said lasciviously as he cast the counter charm to return your robes to their rightful colour.

You looked down at your form before looking back at the boys skeptically. You seemed only then to realize you were still holding onto James’ collar like a vice and dropped it. Remus almost chuckled at the look of loss that crossed James’ face.

“Right.” You said and cleared your throat, backing away from them as if you weren't fully trusting what just happened. “Thank you.”

Sirius’ head actually reared back in surprise at your thanks and James beamed.

“Anytime angel, truly.” 

James’ pet name seemed to snap you out of whatever trance you’d been in as you narrowed your eyes at him. “Don’t call me that.”

“Terribly sorry, my love.” He relented.

You groaned in exasperation and carried on towards the Slytherin table.

“Isn’t she lovely?” James whispered in awe, eyes still glued to your form as you bodily shoved Evan Rosier out of what Remus could only assume you had dubbed as your seat at the Slytherin table and sat down. 

“Try bloody terrifying.” Peter shivered in horror as he finally extricated himself from behind Remus. 

“Oi! Don’t talk about our future missus that way, Wormy.” Sirius squawked and swatted at the poor sod with his copy of the Daily Prophet.

“Is he wrong, though?” Remus asked as he let out his own breath of relief.

“Don ‘t worry moons,” James murmured into Remus’ cheek as he pressed his nose into the werewolf’s hair line. “She’ll win you over soon.”

Remus wasn’t so sure.

You were the only Slytherin photographed in proper uniform that day. 

A few weeks later found Remus sitting horrifyingly uncomfortable in Defense Against the Dark Arts as they moved on to the unit featuring Werewolves.

James sat on his right, and though the shaking of his knee under the table gave away his nerves, he spent the entire class rubbing soothing circles along the back of Remus’ hand with his thumb.

Sirius, sitting on Remus’ left, was incredibly stiff and clearly poised to fight if given the chance which did nothing to ease Remus’ discomfort. It also didn’t help that they shared this period with the 6th and 7th year Slytherin’s.

He just wanted this day to be over.

“Why are we even talking about this?” Mulciber sneered, interrupting the professor as they discussed elements of the Wolfsbane potion. 

“What is your question, Mr. Mulciber?” The professor drawled out in a bored tone.

“Why bother discussing werewolves? The lot of them should be culled anyway; euthanize them on site for all I care.” He spat, earning snickers from Avery, Goyle, and Snape. 

Sirius sucked in a breath in preparation of a verbal (and possibly physical, should he be so lucky) spar when Remus dug his nails into Sirius’ thigh. “Please, Pads.” He begged quietly; voice taught with emotions.

Sirius let out a pained sigh and leaned back further into his chair.

“Funny, Mulciber.” A bored tone commented, “I was just thinking the same about you and your lot.”

Remus, James, and Sirius all turned to see the majority of the eyes in the room already on you, though you never bothered lifting your head from your textbook.

“Care to repeat that, L/N?” Mulciber sneered, sitting up in his chair as if ready to lunge at you if necessary.

You lifted your bored gaze from your book and stared at him head on. “Do I need to repeat myself, Mulciber? Mummy and daddy kept it too close in the family tree, huh?” You murmured in faux sympathy. “I was just thinking, most of the Sacred Twenty-Eight ought to be culled. That would save the wizarding world a whole lot of trouble.”

“How dare you compare me to some filthy half-breed. My family is royalty compared to those disgusting creatures.” Avery shouted.

“The only one acting like a disgusting creature here is the likes of you tossers.” You shouted back.

“Alright.” The professor tried (not very hard, albeit) to quell the quickly spiralling discussion.

“I could hardly look at myself in a mirror if I’d been tainted with a curse like lycanthropy.” Snape sneered, pointedly facing the Marauders across the room. Sirius burned with shame and protectiveness, being the reason Snape knew Remus’ secret and the overwhelming need to defend his lover. Remus took that moment to dig his nails into Sirius' thigh again, pinning him to his seat.

“Are you sure, Snape? Are you sure you wouldn’t rather live a life with lycanthropy than have to look at that mug of yours in the mirror every day.” You drawled.

“You insolent little bitch.”

“Hey!” James finally shouted from across the room, far more stern than Remus can ever remember seeing the boy. But you carried on, completely undeterred. 

“I’d bet ten thousand galleons that not one werewolf ever asked to be a werewolf, yet you wake up each and every morning actively choosing to be the ugliest, most hateful, vile, disgusting beasts known to mankind. That is what is despicable. That is what should be euthanized on site.” Your voice grew louder and louder with each word until you were standing behind your desk and punctuating each word with a slam of your fist against the table in front of you. 

“Alright, that’s enough.” The professor finally called; tone booming across the lecture hall intoning no nonsense. 

“Mr. Mulciber, Mr. Snape, and Miss. L/N. Detention with me this evening.”

The Slytherin boys all scoffed and cursed under their breath whilst you offered a bored shrug of your shoulders, returning to your textbook as though this was just a run of the mill day for you.

The boys had been absolutely right; you just won over the affections of one Remus John Lupin.  

[miley1442111]

the problem with arguing

a/n: Hi, this is my first story, any constructive criticism is welcomed. This had not been properly edited nor read through because icba lmao :) also I wrote it for a fem!reader but I don't think there's much mention other than Jack calling reader 'mom' so... yeah :)

pairings: aaron hotchner x reader, platonic BAUteam x reader, motherly(If that's a word?)reader x teen!jack hotchner

summary: aaron and you are in a fight, but what happens when a meeting with a witness goes south?

warnings: criminal minds levels of violence, angst, fluff, couple fighting, reader in distress, reader getting injured, mentions of knives, mentions of being stabbed, mentions of being tied up, mentions of hospitals, mentions of killing, mentions of general injury, mentions of guns/shooting, minimal use of y/n.

1.6k + words.

“We’re here, we’ll update you if anything comes of it,” Morgan promises Hotch over the phone as we walk to the front porch of one of our witnesses. Something about his story is messed up and we were the unlucky ones who had to go talk to him. It’s a pretty house I guess, a little expensive for what a 26 year old man could afford, and what he would want to buy. It’s all fifties style, the entire estate is. Big-enough bungalows with pastel walls and inviting doors with a small porch, just enough for the entry-way and a chair. I knock on the door, exhausted from the past 72 hours. Aaron and I got in a fight before we got to Ohio, it was unnecessary, but we fought all the same. He was mad at me for giving Jack advice that led to a fight between them. I just wanted to kiss and make up 3 days ago but he won’t budge. Maybe it’s because he knows I’m right and doesn’t want to confront it or maybe it’s because I took it too far and overstepped. Jack calls me ‘mom’, I live with him, and Jack came to me for support, he wanted guidance and I gave him it. He was mad at his dad because he missed meeting his girlfriend. His girlfriend, Ava, was a lovely girl, I had been the one there when Jack brought her over for dinner, I was the one trying to suss out if they actually liked each other, and I was the one Jack sat down with for 2 hours after and told everything about her to. All because Aaron was too busy with paperwork in his study. Jack was hurt, which is difficult to do because he’s such an understanding 16 year-old boy. It was also hard because I saw both sides. I’ll be the first to admit that what Aaron did was wrong, but our job is hard and demanding, especially his since he’s the leader of our team… But Jack just wanted 2 hours of his time, not even, just a dinner. A dinner to meet his girlfriend, and Aaron still couldn’t make it. 

I knock again as I huff. 

“Everything alright?” Morgan asks, the regular playful glint in his eye. 

“Tired, mad, over this job. You?” I sigh. 

“Sounds about right,” He chuckles. “How’s Jack doing?” 

A smile spreads across my face. “He has a girlfriend,” Morgan’s face lights up in a smile. 

“My man,” He smirks and I chuckle. “You two met her yet?” 

My face drops again. “I have, Aaron… couldn’t make it to the dinner though. She’s lovely, perfect for Jack. It's so funny, it’s just opposites attract. Jack is so sporty and outspoken and she’s one of the quieter, more into her studies kind of person.” 

The door swings open and we’re met with David, our witness. 

“You two know what time it is?” He yawns. 

“Oh trust us, we know,” Morgan sighs. “Can we ask you a few more questions?” 

“It’s 10pm at night? Can’t this wait ‘till the morning?”

“It’ll only take a few minutes,” I reassure. 

He looks between us for a moment, then sighs. “Quickly.”

We walk inside and are immediately hit with an awful smell. I know that smell. That’s when I see it, a body.

And that’s when it all goes black. 

I wake up in a new room, tied to a chair. I don’t see Derrick anywhere. I don’t see David anywhere. I’m all alone in this grey room. I don’t see a door but I notice a camera, and a screen in front of me. I see Penelope on the screen, then a sign above it with “Don’t make noise” scribbled. I look to my left and see a plastic window, I see Morgan through it, tied up too. He sees me. 

“Y/n? Y/n?! Where are you?” Penelope squeals. I shake my head and she picks up her phone and tries calling mine, it rings and I feel something go into my side. I scream out in pain as I see the blood start trickling out of me. Penelope drops her phone, then picks it up, dialling someone else’s number. 

I get switched to a joint call with Penelope, and the rest of the team, excluding Aaron. 

“Y/n?” Spencer asks and I nod, sobbing in pain. Spencer runs off-screen, leaving Jj and Emily to stare in horror at me.

Spencer comes back with Aaron and we make eye-contact through the screen, and he starts breaking. He’s shouting orders at the policemen in the precinct, he’s shouting orders at the team, and he’s trying not to cry. I know that. I also know I’m the only one who knows that. He hides it pretty well but not from me, not after all of our years together. His eyes squint, his eyebrows furrow more than usual, he starts biting at the skin around his nails. 

“We’re coming to find you. We will find you,” he promises me. I nod slowly as the pain in my side becomes unbearable as the knife is pulled out. 

“Is Morgan with you?” Emily asks and I nod as I bite my lip until it bleeds to stop myself from making too much noise. 

“Is he in the room with you?” Spencer asks. 

I shake my head no. After what feels like an eternity of yes or no questions, they think they’ve located us.I hear banging on the door and then it opens. Spencer is standing there with an entire Swat team behind him. I shake my head to tell them to not make noise but they talk anyway and another knife is put into my leg, I don’t have the strength to stay quiet this time and another finds its way into my arm. I pass out. 

I wake up in a hospital bed, an IV in my arm, Aaron on one side and Jack on the other. Aaron’s asleep in a chair on my left, I grimace, knowing his back will hurt. 

“Mom?!” Jack exclaims as he sees me open my eyes. “Mom!” His eyes fill with tears as he gets up and wraps his arms around me on the bed. 

“Jack,” I sigh in relief. 

“You’re okay! You’re awake!” He smiles brightly, happy that I’m alive. 

Aaron wakes up from the commotion and rushes to my side. “Honey?” He takes my hand and squeezes. “You’re okay.”

I smile at both of them. 

“I’ll go get the doctor,” Jack smiles and he rushes off to find a doctor. 

“Honey I’m so sorry I shouldn’t have-” He starts but I cut him off. 

“I love you.” 

“I love you too,” he sighs, tears welling up in his eyes.

“Don’t go all soft now Aaron,” I joke. 

“You make me soft,” He smiles and presses a soft kiss to my cheek. 

Jack comes back in with a doctor. She tells me that I lost a lot of blood and that I will be out of the field for a few months, with 2 weeks of mandatory bedrest, then 4 weeks of physical therapy. 

The next day, the team come in to visit. 

“Hey,” Spencer smiles, walking in first. I’ve always been close to Spencer, he’s always felt like a little brother to me. 

“Hey,” I smile and wince when I hug him, but I know it’s worth it. The rest of the team filter in, smiles on their faces.“So what happened after I went out?”

“Well, they got me, no injuries apart from a concussion,” Morgan says. 

“We got the guy-” Emily starts.

“Aaron got the guy,” Spencer interrupts. “He saw him and just shot him-”

“And then he beat the crap out of him,” Jj says. “It was pretty intense.”

I nod along as they tell me the story, and then we just talk about whatever until Aaron comes in and says visiting hours are over. Spencer leaves me a few more books to read and Jj brings Jack to Ava’s house for the night. Aaron walks in with my dinner on a tray. 

“Hungry?” He smiles. 

“You shot someone for me?” I ask as he places my tray down.

“Yes.”

I roll my eyes and smile at him. “Is he alive?”

“No.” 

My face drops. “Oh.” 

“It was the combined bleeding and head trauma that killed him.”

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

“I did.” 

I look at my food. “I understand you wanted to protect me-”

“I did that because he doesn’t get to live after doing this to you. Honey, you and Jack are the most important people in my life and I would do anything if it meant that you were safe and sound. Do you want to know how it felt to have what could’ve been my last words to you be ‘stop bothering me’? I was an asshole to you over the Jack situation because I knew you were right. I knew it wasn’t fair to not go to dinner when I was in the house. I knew it was important and it just felt too real. It felt like he was growing up and I just couldn’t take it because I missed so much of his childhood! So I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry that I said everything I said and did what I did, but I am not sorry about hurting that fucking monster,” He takes a deep breath. “Now eat up, it’ll go cold.”

“I love you Aaron, it’s ok. It wasn’t your fault, being a parents is hard.” 

His eyes fill with tears and he looks at me like an injured puppy. 

“Come here,” I smile and move over, allowing room for him to sit with me. He climbs into bed beside me and wraps his arms around me, being careful of my wounds. 

“I love you,” he whispers as I slowly eat my food. 

“I love you too.”

[thefreakandthehair]

I just wanna see that smile

wc: 1.1k | tags: canon-compliant injury/recovery, hospital setting, getting together, (brief and inferred mutual) pining, first kiss

a/n: happy (belated) birthday to my pal, @firefly-party! kei drew this piece last year and it was one of the first artworks we talked about when we became friends. this series has continued to live in my brain ever since, so I decided to write a little something in the universe!

Eddie woke up on March 26th, 1986 and Steve’s waited patiently for this moment ever since. 

Well, patient is a misnomer— he’d waited quietly to anyone not named Robin or Dustin. Robin, because she knows him too well and there’s no point in trying to hide anything from her and Dustin, because he’d apparently grown up overnight and pieced together that Steve sitting at Eddie’s bedside and holding his fucking hand every time he waltzed into the room meant something. 

Or maybe it was when Steve gave Eddie all of his rings back, sliding them carefully onto his shaking fingers with a comforting smile. 

Or maybe when Eddie sat up unassisted for the first time and Steve nearly hit the ceiling, bracing him in a panic as if all of his stitches and staples would burst with the tiny movement he’d been working toward in physical therapy. 

Hell, maybe it was Steve taking over some of Eddie’s care for himself, washing his hair and braiding it because the staff at Hawkins Memorial are doing nothing more than the bare minimum to make sure they don’t get sued, or even more frightening, reamed out by the new duo of Hopper and Wayne again. Either way, his hair was making Steve’s own scalp itchy. 

Dustin never tells Steve what it was exactly that tipped him off but whatever it was, it’s enough for Dustin to give Steve the floor when Eddie’s getting ready to discharge back home. And that’s how, exactly two months later to the day from Eddie waking up, Steve enters Eddie’s otherwise empty room armed with a special treat in the form of milkshakes to find Eddie pouring over an unfortunately familiar stack of papers. 

“NDA?” Steve asks, nodding at the papers in Eddie’s lap. He’s upright, fully dressed in the black sweatpants Jeff brought by and a cut off Metallica tee shirt, bandages around his stomach and neck. 

Eddie mutters as he reads under his breath, eyes flitting across the page. 

“How the fuck do they expect any of us common folk to understand a fucking word of this? Hereby? Wherein? Hitherto? What fucking year did I wake up in, man?”

“Yeah, I think the whole point is that you don’t read what you’re signing but I’ll let you in on a little secret.” Steve huffs a small laugh through his nose as he steps carefully around Eddie’s crutches. “You may as well just sign it because if you don’t, they’ll forge it anyway. Now finish signing your life rights away so you can have this milkshake with me.” 

Eddie perks up, looking away from the mess of papers and smiling up at Steve with a smile so genuine, it punches the air out of his lungs. He keeps looking at him like this, like Steve’s a breath of fresh air, like he's someone Eddie wants to have around. 

Steve isn’t sure what to do with that look yet, but he’s sure glad it’s there. 

“Celebration milkshakes? Is this a freedom gift?” Eddie signs the NDA quickly and sets the pen down on the bed next to him. 

“It sure is. Figured this could make up for all those lame popsicles from the cafeteria.” 

The mattress creaks as Steve sits down on the edge, just to the side of the railing, and hands Eddie the strawberry treat. Their fingers graze, Steve’s chilled and Eddie’s warm. His hand is still a little shaky, trembling as he takes hold of the cup, but they’re warm and warm means alive. 

Eddie’s hand can tremble for the rest of his goddamn life so long as it’s always warm. 

They each take a sip, smooth ice cream slurping up their straws, and after a moment, Eddie sighs.

“Is it weird that I’m actually sort of worried about leaving?” 

Steve’s eyebrows knit together, looking down at Eddie’s rings glinting beneath the offensive fluorescent lights above them.

“What are you worried about?”

“Uh, well, I did almost die. And the town still wishes I did. It’s a lot easier to make those dreams a reality outside of these walls, y’know? And I’m uh…” Steve watches as Eddie takes a breath and Steve suddenly misses the early days when Eddie was connected to the heart rate monitor. 

“You’re…?” Steve presses, sipping his milkshake again to appear casual. 

“I see you all the time here. Guess I just don’t want that to change.” 

Steve’s heart skips a beat, clattering in his chest and pounding at his ribs, desperately trying to crack him right open and run to the man who’s claimed it. Eddie watches him with cautious eyes, opens his mouth to say something else but Steve cuts him off before he can take it back. 

“Why do you think that’d change? Forest Hills is a lot closer than this shithole, and you won’t be kept under lock and key. And as for the first thing, well, Wayne and Nancy have a lot in common and I have a bat loaded up with nails in the trunk of my car.” Steve rests his free hand on Eddie’s knee. “No one's gonna fuck with you. Don’t worry about that.” 

“You sound a little cocky there, Stevie.” Eddie lifts one eyebrow, glancing from Steve’s hand up to his eyes. “Ready to fight for my honor or something?”

“Yep.” 

He hadn’t brought the milkshakes intending to use them as props, but he’s glad he has something to do to fill the space as Eddie watches him with questioning eyes. As he slurps through the straw, grating noise still preferable over the awkward silence, Eddie’s pinched expression turns softer, realization dawning between the stark white walls of the hospital and the pink ice cream in both of their hands. 

“You’re serious.” Eddie says. 

“Took you that long to figure that out?” Steve teases. 

“I’ve been a little busy with learning how to breathe and walk again. Y’know, just little things.” Eddie rolls his eyes with that same fond smile, free hand lacing its fingers through Steve’s. “So what you’re saying is that I’ll see you just as much outside of this prison as I have inside of it?” 

Steve shrugs. “Probably even more, honestly. There are no visiting hours at Wayne’s, and it’s not like I have a job to rush off to these days. You’re stuck with me, Ed. At least for as long as you want me around.” 

Eddie snorts, unceremoniously scoffing in Steve’s face as if in disbelief.

“Don’t make promises like that. What happens when I never want you to leave?” 

The air shifts, growing heavier as they find themselves leaning closer, two satellites orbiting one another by nothing but gravitational pull. 

Steve’s not sure who actually closes the gap, but he finds himself with his lips pressed against Eddie’s— sweet, chilled, a little chapped but smiling against his. Months of waiting, of hoping that he’d get this opportunity, come to a deafening crescendo and it takes all of his discipline to not push. Instead, they pull apart and Steve smiles, tucking loose hair behind Eddie’s ear. 

“That’s easy. I’d just never leave.”

fun fact: kei, I wrote your birthday down in my calendar as the 28th for some reason, a solid ten days late, so know that this was planned from the get-go but was just a tad bit late.

[pucksandpower]

Crazy Cravings

Max Verstappen x wife!Reader

Summary: pregnancy cravings can make you (and your husband) do crazy things … neither of you particularly minds

Warnings: 18+ content and pregnancy

You sit in the Red Bull Racing garage, feeling the warm Spanish sun on your face through the open door. The roar of engines and whirring of power tools surrounds you as the mechanics prepare for the race.

Your eyes are drawn to the iconic blue and silver cans scattered around the garage. Those tantalizing cans of Red Bull that everyone else seems to be drinking so casually.

Everyone except you and Max, that is.

You rub your rounded belly, feeling your precious cargo kick and squirm inside you. At six months pregnant, your cravings have been … intense, to say the least. But none more powerful than your longing for the crisp, fizzy taste of Red Bull.

The caffeine is off limits, of course. You would never dream of jeopardizing your baby’s health. But oh, how you crave that sweet, energizing flavor that used to be such a routine part of your life.

Max emerges from the back room, his bright grey eyes instantly finding you. He strides over, that effortless confidence and raw athleticism making your heart flutter, even after all these years. His gaze drifts to the Red Bull can in a mechanic’s hand and a grimace crosses his face.

“Liefje, are you alright?” He murmurs, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. “I know how much those are torturing you lately.”

You force a smile, not wanting him to worry. “I’m fine, Maxie. Just … ignoring the siren call of carbonated temptation.”

His thumb strokes your cheek as he studies you, clearly not convinced. Max has been so incredibly supportive during this pregnancy, abstaining from Red Bull himself in solidarity. Cutting out his biggest vice, just so you don’t have to be tormented by the sight and scent of it everywhere.

“We should get you out of here,” he says, looping an arm around your waist to help leverage your bulk out of the chair. “The smells can’t be helping those crazy cravings.”

You open your mouth to protest, not wanting to pull him away from his work, but a fresh wave of dizzying desire hits you as a mechanic cracks open another can. The fizzing hiss and unmistakable scent make your mouth water uncontrollably.

“Max ...” you whisper, feeling your throat tighten with barely restrained craving and hormonal tears prickling your eyes.

He follows your yearning gaze to the Red Bull can and understanding dawns. “Oh, liefje ...” Scooping you into his arms, he strides from the garage, shooting an apologetic look at his crew.

Once outside in the fresh air, you bury your face against Max’s shoulder, inhaling his familiar, comforting cologne as he carries you to the motorhome. He eases you onto the couch, brushing kisses along your forehead and temple.

“I’m so sorry, schatje,” he murmurs, anguish lining his handsome features. “I hate seeing you suffer like this. If there was any way I could make the cravings stop ...”

You catch his hand, lacing your fingers through his calloused ones. “Max, you know I would never actually ask you to give up Red Bull, right?”

He shakes his head fiercely. “Not being able to have it for nine months is nothing compared to your sacrifice, carrying our baby. I don’t deserve you.”

Pulling him down beside you, you cup the chiseled line of his jaw, making him meet your gaze. “I happen to think you deserve the very best, Mr. Verstappen. And right now, the very best for both of us would be ...” Your voice cracks with fresh longing. “A damn Red Bull.”

Max’s eyes blaze with sudden determination, that iron willpower that has made him a champion coming to life. “Then that’s what I’ll get you. If those tossers at Red Bull Company won’t make a safe, caffeine-free version for pregnant women, I’ll personally make them regret it.”

You laugh shakily. “Max, you can’t just bully a corporation into creating a new product line for one person’s weird craving!”

“You’re not just one person,” he growls, tangling his fingers in your hair and bringing his forehead to rest against yours. “You’re my everything. And our baby deserves for its mother to be happy and have her cravings satisfied.”

Pressing a fierce kiss to your lips, he adds, “I’m calling them right now. And then straight to the CEO, if I have to. I’ll get you that Red Bull if it’s the last thing I do.”

True to his word, the indomitable Max Verstappen spends the next several days working every possible connection and calling in every favor. You catch bits of conversations, his clipped tones making it clear just how serious he is about this bizarre quest.

“No, I don’t care if it’s not ‘cost-effective’. This is for my very pregnant wife ...”

“She’s risking her health to grow an entire person! The least your company can do is make a freaking caffeine-free energy drink ...”

The crew quickly learns not to open any Red Bull around you, lest they face the wrath of an overprotective Max. Which is slightly embarrassing … but also incredibly sweet.

Your hormones most definitely approve.

Finally, there’s a break in the stalemate. Helmut Marko himself shows up at the motor home, those bushy salt-and-pepper eyebrows furrowed.

“Max, this is ridiculous. They will not reconfigure an entire product line just because Y/N is having a little … craving.”

You brace yourself for the explosion, but Max just levels Helmut with that intense stare. “If you could experience these cravings yourself, you would be singing a different tune. Y/N is sacrificing everything to have our baby. The least Red Bull can do is give her a safe option to have the flavor she misses so much.”

Helmut’s expression softens slightly at the obvious devotion in Max’s voice. “You know that corporate will never go for it. Not for just one person ...”

“Then make it for all the other pregnant women dealing with the same issues,” Max returns, unruffled. “Or is a company that plasters ‘Gives You Wings’ on every can really too cowardly to follow through on empowering people?”

You suck in a shocked breath at his daring play. But the flicker of anger and resigned capitulation in Helmut’s eyes shows that it worked.

“Fine, you little shit,” the older man growls. “I’ll talk to product development. But I’m not making any promises!”

Except somehow … Max’s sheer bullheaded tenacity eventually batters through all the corporate resistance and red tape. Three weeks later, an unmistakable bright blue can appears on the counter, the iconic Red Bull logo stamped across it.

“What’s this?” You ask in confusion.

Max slides an arm around your waist, beaming proudly. “Open it and see.”

You crack the seal, sniffing cautiously … and almost melt at the nostalgic, beloved scent of Red Bull. But just as you start to panic about caffeine, you notice the slightly different flavor.

“Max, is this ...”

He nods, grinning. “Zero caffeine but all the taste you’ve been craving. No more tears over those damn energy drink cans, okay?”

Throwing your arms around him, you yank his head down to capture his mouth in a grateful kiss. “Have I mentioned lately how incredible you are?”

“Once or twice,” he jokes, then sobers, cupping your belly. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to make you and our baby happy.”

“You’re giving me everything I ever wanted and more.” You take a long pull of the perfectly flavored liquid, sighing in blissful satisfaction. “We hit the jackpot with you, Max Verstappen.”

He kisses you again, reveling in your obvious enjoyment. “The only jackpot I need is right here.”

***

Your baby bump has popped out to truly impressive proportions now at eight months along. What started as an innocent craving for Red Bull has escalated into an all-out physiological war.

Nothing seems to satisfy you for long — you’re a walking bundle of hormones and insatiable desires.

From the plush solitude of the Red Bull hospitality suite, you try not to gaze wistfully toward the Ferrari encampment. But you can’t resist fixating on the tantalizing cones of rich gelato constantly streaming from their hospitality tent.

Watching a couple of Ferrari mechanics stroll by, licking at scoops of pistachio and stracciatella, is enough to kickstart a powerful new yearning. Your mouth waters shamelessly as they pass, the creamy dessert leaving you weak in the knees. Before you can overthink it, you’re shuffling toward the entrance, one hand cradling your belly.

“Scusi,” you call out hesitantly as you peek inside. “Mi dispiace … is it possible to get some gelato?”

You half expect to be waved away — it’s well known that the Ferrari team is notoriously insular and protective of their spoils. But the cheerful greeting you receive is instantaneous and overwhelming.

“Madonna mia! Look at this beautiful piccina!”

Suddenly you’re engulfed by a whirlwind of chattering Italian voices, greeted by smiling faces from the team of elderly signoras who comprise the Ferrari hospitality staff. Weathered hands pat your belly and cheeks, clucking sympathetically at your swollen state.

“You poor bambina, absolutely enorme! Of course we’ll get you some gelato to refresh you. And biscotti too! You need to keep up your energy, si?”

You’re ushered toward a plush sofa, various grandmotherly types fussing over you like you’re the most delicate, precious thing. It’s … surprisingly wonderful. They clearly adore babies and pregnant women. You get the sense that indulging a mother-to-be is hardwired into their very beings.

A tray of gelato cups appears, the rainbow of flavors almost dazzling in their variety — chocolate, pistachio, prickly pear, lemon, stracciatella. Before you can reach for one, it’s plucked from your grasp.

“No no no! Leave it to Nonna Maria.” A stout signora with a green paisley dress and frosted silver curls shakes her head sternly. “I’ll start you with the lemon to whet your appetite. Then a nice creamy stracciatella as a proper treat for the bambino.”

The tangy flavor of the lemon gelato hits your craving exquisitely. As soon as you’ve polished off that cup, Nonna Maria presents another brimming with the creamy chocolate chip perfection of stracciatella. You moan in appreciation, unbothered by the chorus of approving noises from your doting new entourage.

Before you know it, you’ve been plied with cups of hazelnut, strawberry, and caramel flavors as well. These hospitable Italian ladies simply won’t be deterred from pampering a future mamma. As you scrape the last smears of gelato from a ramekin, a new grandmother settles on the sofa beside you.

“Now ... tell Nonna Gina what this little maschietto or bambina has been craving, eh?” She pats your belly affectionately. “We have chefs who can whip up anything your heart desires!”

Is it a pregnancy thing, this sudden wave of tears that blurs your vision? Or just being so insanely touched by the kindness and maternal care of these lovely strangers? You blink rapidly, swallowing hard.

“Honestly … gelato has been my biggest craving these past couple days. I don’t know if I can eat another bite.”

A chorus of disapproving gasps and tuts rises from the assembled grandmothers. “Bah! This pregnancy has ruined your appetite, piccina,” one crows, waving a hand dismissively. “We’ll soon get it back to rights, don’t you worry.”

For the next hour, you’re lavished with attention, fussed over and coddled like the most precious jewel. Cold drinks and chilled towels appear to keep you comfortable as the nonnas take turns sitting with you, petting your belly and swapping outrageous birth stories.

Their colorful Italian voices swell and ebb as they bicker over whose recipe for pasta al ragu is most authentic, who has the most grandchildren, and whose first-born grandson is most handsome.

It’s chaos and noise and overwhelming affection … and you’ve never felt so utterly content.

As the afternoon light slants golden through the awning, a familiar figure appears in the entrance, haloed by the fiery rays.

“Liefje? I’ve been looking everywhere ...” Max’s disbelieving gaze sweeps over the scene in front of him — you, surrounded by a veritable coven of grandmotherly Italians who seem entirely absorbed with you. “What in the world ...”

A chubby signora with a bright orange shawl wrapped around her ample form hops up, beaming widely. “Ahh! We have been absolutely spoiling your beautiful wife, of course. Did you know she had a craving for gelato? Well, no problem for us — we have taken her like one of our own bambinas!”

The others cluck and murmur in outraged agreement at his shocked expression.

“We absolutely will not let a piccina in such a state go hungry or uncomfortable! Now you sit down so we can get you a plate of some proper food too!”

Max gapes at you, utterly nonplussed as you grin back at him with unabashed glee, utterly stuffed with Italian desserts and reveling in the indulgent babying. You pat the space beside you invitingly.

“You’ve got to try Nonna Gina’s tiramisu, Maxie. It’ll knock your socks off.”

He settles beside you, slinging an arm around your shoulders and still looking rather dazed. But the instant the first warm smile and pat lands on his arm or knee, Max’s expression melts. This team of fussing Italian grandmothers has clearly adopted you both as their own.

Nonna Maria reappears, shoving a plate stacked with crispy arancini, indulgent risotto alla Milanese, and a creamy slice of tiramisu into your husband’s hands. “Eat up! You need to keep your strength up too, caring for this sweet cosa bella.” She plants bristly kisses on both your cheeks before scurrying off again.

Max watches her go, then turns to you with a bemused chuckle, squeezing you close. “Well, schatje. I have to hand it to you — at least your pregnancy cravings bring you to some … interesting places.”

You hum in agreement, perfectly content as you snuggle against his side. “Can you really think of a better place for me to nest?” You grin as another nonna appears to pat his cheek, welcoming him into the chaotic fold. “I think I may have just found my second family.”

He tilts your chin up, eyes sparkling with warmth. “Anything that makes you happy and keeps our baby healthy.”

As he kisses you tenderly, surrounded by clucking encouragement and rapturous croons of “bello, bellisimo” from your new Italian grandmothers, you know you’ve never felt so blissfully cherished.

You and Max make your way slowly back to the Red Bull motorhome, stuffed to the gills with gelato and trailed by a gaggle of besotted well-wishers calling out farewells and advice.

“I still can’t believe you managed to befriend the entirety of Ferrari hospitality,” Max laughs, helping ease you onto the couch in his driver’s room. He nudges your belly playfully. “This little one is shaping up to be quite the international charmer!”

“Says the man who single-handedly compelled Red Bull to create an entirely new product line,” you point out, patting your swollen middle contentedly. “I have a feeling this baby is going to be the most spoiled child on earth.”

Max settled beside you, gathering you close with a tender smile. “Can you blame all our people for wanting to give the world to you two?” His thumb traced your jawline reverently. “You’re carrying a little miracle, liefje.”

Your breath catches, as it so often did when he looks at you like that. Like you’re his entire universe. With so much pure adoration and love shining in those grey eyes.

“Our miracle,” you correct softly, cradling his calloused hand over your belly. “I couldn’t have done it without you. Not just supporting me … but giving me everything I could ever dream of.”

He opens his mouth like he wanted to protest, but you press on, needing him to understand how treasured he makes you feel.

“You don’t stop until I’m happy. Even when I get these raging, random cravings that probably seem crazy, you move heaven and earth to give me whatever I need. Most people would never ...”

“Neither of us is most people,” Max interrupts fiercely. He presses a searing kiss to your lips, then the swell of your abdomen. “You and our little one are my entire world. I’ll spend every day showing you how much I love you both, how grateful I am to have you in my life.”

Hormones raging, you pull his mouth back to yours, savoring the taste and feel of him surrounding you. When you finally part, you rest your forehead against his.

“In that case, you better rest up for tonight,” you tease. “I have a feeling that someone’s going to get a craving for sardines and waffles right around midnight.”

***

At nine months pregnant, you feel like a blissfully beached whale.

Your belly protrudes so massively that you can barely see your feet anymore. Simple tasks like tying your shoes or rolling over in bed have become awkward geometric obstacles. Max has to help you up from every chair or couch, his strong arms levering your frame into a vertical position.

Lingering in the paddock is no longer an option either. You’ve been gently but firmly ordered back home to Monaco to prepare for the baby’s arrival.

Thank goodness your nesting instincts are going full tilt — otherwise you might go stir crazy waiting for this little one to make their grand debut. You’ve rearranged and re-organized the nursery a dozen times, washed and rewashed all the tiny onesies and miniature accessories, and baked enough lactation cookies to feed an army of nursing mothers.

Really, there’s only one craving occupying your mind now …

The thump of shoes in the hall makes you look up eagerly. Max appears in the doorway of the sunlit nursery, loose waves of brown hair framing his face. The plain white tee stretches enticingly across his chest and shoulders, making your mouth water for an entirely different reason than food.

“Hey schatje,” he greets, eyes crinkling at the corners as he takes in your flushed cheeks. A knowing smirk tugs at one side of his mouth. “Were you just ... thinking about me?”

You shake your head adamantly, wincing as the motion makes your whole body ache in protest. “Maybe just a little. This particular craving is getting out of control.”

Crossing to you in two strides, Max cups your jaw and brings your lips crashing together in a searing kiss. His tongue sweeps demanding and possessive into your mouth, making you whimper faintly. That intoxicating masculine scent of fresh sweat, motor oil, and sandalwood surrounds you in an alluring cloud.

After all these years, just the taste and smell of your husband is enough to drench you in molten wanting. Baby or no baby, Max Verstappen is still the sexiest goddamn thing on two legs.

“Mmm, I know exactly what you need,” he rumbles against your neck, nipping a tingling path along your sensitive skin. “Luckily for you, I’ve got a free schedule all afternoon to help take care of this craving ...”

He scoops you into his arms effortlessly, cradling your heavy weight against his chest to carry you to the bedroom. You twine your arms shamelessly around his neck, luxuriating in the hard strength of his body against yours.

“Aren’t you worried about ... squashing the baby?”

“Not at all,” he deposits you carefully on the bed. Those bright grey eyes darken with blazing lust. “I’m going to take such good care of you and our little one.”

His hands and mouth seem to be everywhere at once — caressing, nibbling, and stroking every sensitive inch he can lavish adoring attention on. You keen softly when he dips his tongue into your navel, rubbing reverent circles over the tight swell of your belly.

“You’re so gorgeous like this,” Max murmurs, lips brushing the crease where your torso and bump meet. “So ripe and round and radiant with our child. My beautiful, strong girl ...”

All you can do is lie there gasping, overwhelmed in the best possible way. He strips you methodically, leaving a trail of scorching, openmouthed kisses over every newly exposed inch.

“My sexy little pregnant wife,” he husks, tongue dragging up the slick crease at the apex of your thighs. “Can’t resist this craving can you, liefje?”

His fingers plunge inside you, curling expertly as his mouth closes over your throbbing bud. You throw your head back shamelessly, mindless with pleasure as Max devours you.

So good, so unbearably good …

He ravishes you thoroughly, sending gushing waves of release crashing through your body over and over again until you’re gasping and quivering. Atoms of blissful satisfaction hum in your bloodstream as you float back into sweet oblivion.

An insistent nudge against your belly slowly rouses you. Max looms over you, hair deliciously rumpled and eyes glittering wickedly. “Did I satisfy that craving sufficiently? Or should I keep going?”

Your mouth curves in a greedy smile, hands gliding over his flexing shoulders and chest. “Again, please ...”

It had long since become a running gag around the paddock and team — before you were advised to stop flying. When you couldn’t be located, someone would joke that you must be off ravaging your utterly besotten husband yet again.

Max took the ribbing with surprising grace, grinning unrepentantly whenever his shirt collar revealed another blossom of lovebites discoloring the skin of his throat.

You really didn’t care about the teasing. You’re indulging an entirely healthy and normal craving — just a wife thoroughly appreciating her man.

“Can you believe people used to call this a punishment?” You giggle breathlessly one afternoon.

Max nips a stinging path along the soft skin of your inner thighs, tracing tantalizingly close to your heated center. He laves his tongue soothingly over the reddened marks, leering up at you from between your parted legs.

“Let them call it whatever they want. I’m just taking advantage of your hormones making you insatiable for me.”

“Mmm, well I can’t seem to resist your obscenely perfect body either,” you admit with a lazy stretch. “Maybe we really are being punished.”

One dark brow wings up eloquently as Max drags his eyes over you in a deliberately insolent perusal. Taking your leg in hand, he licks an achingly slow, filthy stripe up the crease where thigh meets hip.

You choke on a whimper, whole body jolting as he sucks a blossom of wet kisses into the satiny expanse of your inner thigh. Those bright grey eyes hold yours in wicked challenge as his clever tongue massages and swirls over your sensitized flesh.

“This certainly doesn’t seem like punishment to me,” he husks darkly. “Does it feel like punishment when I do this ...” His mouth moves higher. “Or this ...”

By the time he finishes torturing you into a quivering, needy wreck, you’re more than ready to beg.

“Please, Max!” You sob, bucking helplessly against the maddening sensations. “I need you, oh god I need you so bad ...”

He settles heavily over you, nuzzling your hair aside to trail searing kisses along your damp throat. “Then you shall have me. My needy wife can have whatever she craves ...”

It’s midway through one such shattering round of lovemaking that Max’s phone begins to ring shrilly. You try to disentangle, burning embarrassment tinting your cheeks, but he simply growls and clutches you tighter.

“Leave it!” He bites out, surging forward to recapture your mouth in a bruising clash of teeth and tongue between thrusts. “I’m busy ... satisfying … my wife ...”

After, as you lie tangled in a sweaty heap of satiation, you can’t resist asking with a wry smile, “Was that another craving I just demanded you satisfy?”

Max props himself up on one elbow, thumb stroking idly along your abdomen as his piercing gaze roams over your flushed, disheveled form.

“Whatever my wife needs,” he responds huskily. Those burning eyes promise infinite carnal delights to come as they caress your body. “I’ll always crave giving her everything she desires.”

He stretches beside you, a blissful smile curving his lips as you snuggle up against his side to exchange lazy kisses.

You’ve got a sneaking suspicion this is one craving that might outlast the pregnancy ...

[empress-simps]

Line That Leads To You

Pairing: Sirius Black x Fem! Reader AU: Soulmate AU CW: Language, Genre: Angst with a happy ending (don't worry guys) Summary: You make Sirius realize that having a soulmate isn’t all that bad— that he too, will have his happily ever after.

Note: One of my favorite tropes to write, soulmate AUs! Sirius just needs love and affirmation. I love writing for this! Enjoy! Picture is from pinterest, credits to the owner!

You know, Sirius never really believed in those pesky soulmates stuff. It irks him to no end, and makes his head hurt.

The topic makes him snappy, bitter, and it leaves him feeling angry. To whom? The world— the one who’s responsible for everything that has to do with soulmates. He thinks it is a bunch of bollocks. It’s a pathetic little concept that everyone seems to be too invested in.

Sirius would be very much happy to tell you it doesn’t really end with a happily-ever-after.

“I’m telling you, Prongs. It’s just a bunch of crap.” Sirius tells James one time at the drawing room in the Potter Manor. James shakes his head, disagreeing with his best mate.

“It isn’t always like Walburga and Orion, Pads.” James gently tells him, eyes swimming with empathy for Sirius. “Just look at me, Lily and I are together, finally.” Sirius can’t help but scoff, shaking his head in a disagreeing manner.

“That’s because you were already pathetically in love with her before you even knew she was the one, Prongs. Same thing for Lily, but she was quite stubborn trying to deny what she felt about you. You guys are actually made for each other.” James lets out a laugh, the memories resurfacing making a love-struck smile appear on his face (Sirius gave him a disgusted look)

“That’s what soulmates are, Pads. You’re supposed to complete each other, balance the other person out” He pursed his lips and sighed, there’s no way Prongs could understand his opinion on the matter.

Complete each other, huh?

Then can someone give him a reasonable excuse on why his parents broke each other? One descended into madness; the other doesn’t really seem to care as long as the noble house of Black lineage will continue.

Sirius bites his bottom lip, deep in thought as he stares at his pinky, willing the connection to be seen; a red string that was tied into a bow that leads to Merlin-knows-where. It serves as a connection; the string that he and only his soulmate can see whenever they want. He tugs on it curiously, awaiting any reaction with bated breath. He almost scrambled away when he felt the other end also tug it. Sirius was utterly terrified, a shiver crawled up to his system, it’s foreign feeling for the Black’s eldest son. It made everything feel too real. A fact that he desperately tries to deny.

That night, before they returned to Hogwarts as sixth year students was the last time he ever willed to see the annoying little string in his pinky, not caring if his supposed other half was finding him or already found him.

Maybe it had to do with his twisted upbringing. He saw how his father cut the string tying him to their mother, the purple string that bound them together turning gray and withering away.

He saw how Regulus flinched, no one should’ve seen a scene like that, but they did. Someone severing their connection to someone who should’ve been with them through better or for worse, the one that fate intended for them. Their life got worse just after that, forcing him to flee and leave his younger brother behind at the deranged hands of Walburga Black.

“You should eat more, Reggie.” You turned towards the quiet and reserved Slytherin, pushing his plate closer to him, which made him wince. “I am quite full.” You raised a brow “None sense, all you did was sip pumpkin juice so you better do as I say or I’ll tell Evan and Junior.”

“Do you know that you boss people around quite well?” He grumbles, shoving a few spoonsful of dinner in his mouth as you hummed in approval, cracking a small smile. “I was told.” Your eyes flickered to the Gryffindor table, it seemed to gravitate you, pulling you in.

Looking down at your pinky, you willed the string to be visible to you. Seeing the red string attached to Sirius Black made your stomach churn; was it butterflies? Unease? You don’t particularly know, having mixed reactions to the string that leads to your other half.

You’ve known for over a year now, keeping it to yourself as you quickly figured out that he wants nothing to do with his soulmate.

“Reggie! Reggie!”

You exclaimed, slapping the poor boy’s arm as he was currently staying in the L/n Manor. He looked in your direction, quite annoyed, he was interrupted reading his book. “I’m reading, Y/n. You know, you should too. It’ll do you some good.” He sassed, trying to find which part he stopped reading. “My soulmate! They tugged the string!” You gushed, “They must be looking for me too, right?” You asked no one in particular, you can still feel the tingles you felt, how your heartbeat picked up, and how you felt like you were in could nine.

Quite the opposite from what Sirius felt, huh?

You never told him, never planned to. It was quite clear what his views are on the concept of soulmates when you saw him snogging different girls every week. It wrecked you; you swore you felt your heart stop beating every time you see him loving a girl other than you even just for a week. It sounds stupid and all, but you would give up everything just to know what it feels like; how he will look at you with love and adoration in his eyes, how his touch and kisses would linger on your body, and how his voice would sound like as his breath fans in your ear, whispering promises of love.

You looked at him from the Slytherin table; so close yet so far.

Regulus noticed, the all too familiar broken look in your face. His heart hurts for you, even if you do not tell him, he already knows. Seeing his brother’s indifference, Regulus’s gaze hardened. How could he have the guts to do this to his soulmate?

The memory of their mother's despair, the way she withered away after their father severed the bond, was etched into his mind. Regulus does not wish for anyone to feel that way, he does not wish upon it even in his worst enemies.

It was a pain no one should endure, a lesson that should have been learned.

Yet there sat his brother, laughing with his friends and willfully ignoring the pulls of his heart. The person who held the other end of this unseen tether, was beside Regulus. Your soul ached as you watched your soulmate. It was a betrayal of the heart's deepest connection, and it stirred a tempest of fury within Regulus that he struggled to contain.

“My brother is foolish. Eat.” He states, pushing your food and placing the cornbread on his plate to yours. She cracks a smile, chuckling. “Alright, Reggie. You’re lucky I love you.” You pat his curls, proceeding to eat the bread, smiling a little. Reggie never really shares his food with anyone, except for you. You’re the only exception.

“Padfoot.” Remus starts, looking out of the window as Sirius lays down lazily in his bed, looking at nothing.

“What, Moons?”

“If I say that I have an inkling on who your soulmate is, would you… look for them?” Remus asked cautiously. Peter and James perked up, eyes wide with shock. How could Remus possibly guess who his soulmate is? Unless… They’re also in Hogwarts?

“Don’t start with that crap, Moony.” Sirius sat up; a scowl displayed in his features as his grey eyes turned stormy.

“Don’t you even feel the slightest amount of guilt in your system as you snog other girls?” Remus frowned.

Sirius’s scowl deepened, his hands clenching into fists. “Guilt? For what, Moony? For not wanting to be chained down by some ancient magic?” His voice was a low growl, barely containing the emotions that surged within him. “I won’t be dictated by fate. I make my own choices, and I refuse to be bound by a bond I never asked for.”

Remus’s expression softened, the lines of concern etching deeper into his face. “It’s not about being chained, Pads. It’s about finding someone who complements you, who understands you in ways no one else can.” He paused, his gaze steady and piercing. “You’ve seen what happens when that bond is severed. You’ve seen the pain it causes. Is that what you want for yourself? For your soulmate who’s probably hurting somewhere?”

Sirius looks down, biting his lip and playing with the rings on his fingers. “I don’t plan on severing our bond, Moons- “

“Then what the fuck are you doing?” Remus spat, Sirius flinched, looking at anything but them. He knew deep down that Remus was right. He can’t deny he also wants to look for his soulmate. The only thing that was holding him back is that he’s scared. What if your story would end similarly like how Walburga and Orion’s did? Dread fills his system as he reflects on how he slowly realized he’s becoming like his father. Peter and James exchanged a glance, the weight of the conversation settling heavily upon them.

“I’m scared,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “Scared of finding her… Scared of repeating the same mistakes.” He paused, his gaze lifting to meet Remus’s. “But you’re right. I can’t keep running from this. It’s not fair to them, and it’s not fair to me.”

James offered a supportive smile, feeling happy for his friend. Sirius stood up, his posture straightening as if shedding the weight of his fears. “I’ll do it. I’ll find her,” he declared, his voice steady. “I owe it to both of us to at least try.”

“That’s our Padfoot.” Remus breathes a sigh of relief as Peter nods encouragingly at Sirius.

The next daylight soon came. Sirius gulps, looking around the great hall, feeling quite overwhelmed at the number of students entering for breakfast, eating, or chatting amongst themselves. For the first time in a long time, he willed the red string of fate to reappear within his vision.

Ah, there it was. The red string connected to someone from the Slytherin table. Sirius felt his heart drop, seeing the end of the string connected to your pinky. “Y/n?” The name left his lips in a hushed awe, his heart skipping a beat as he saw the string connected to your pinky. You, who laughed with such ease beside Regulus, were the missing piece.

Whether it was some brotherly instinct, Regulus looked at him, shooting him a warning stare as if to say: ‘If you hurt her, you’ll never see the light of day ever again.’

Remus raised his eyebrows in surprise, knowing eyes set on his friend. “Found her, Pads?”

“Yeah. Found her, Moony.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” James chimed in, a grin spreading across his face as Peter silently cheers him on. “Go on, before you lose your nerve.”

Sirius took a deep breath, trying to shake off the weight of Regulus’s protective stare. It was a silent challenge, a vow to keep your heart safe from his brother. With a nod of acknowledgment, Sirius stepped forward, crossing the small distance between the Gryffindor table and Slytherin.

“Y/n,” he said, standing before you, the red string pulsing with a life of its own.

You stilled, slowly looking in his direction. Eyes wide with surprise, searched his for a moment before softening. “I was wondering when you’d come around,” you teared up, making Sirius’ heart ache.

Sirius extended his hand, the red string wrapping around both your destinies. “Let’s talk, yeah?”

And in that moment, as your fingers intertwined, Sirius knew that whatever the future held, he had made the right choice. For in finding you, he had found a new path that began to unravel, one filled with hope and courage. The buzz of Great Hall continued, but both of them felt time still, feeling the bond weave into their souls deeper.

Sirius’s and Y/n’s story had its flaws, but it was theirs, uniquely woven by the red strings of fate.

[occamstfs]

No Need to Pledge, Just Drink.

Thanks for the Warm Response! Here's a shorter piece - Occam

It’s definitely not normal that they invited me to this party. It was a direct invite too, obviously. I wouldn’t show up unless someone explicitly asked. From what I understand frat parties don’t usually have a guest list, but I am not one to just wander in. 

Judging by how unpleasant this is so far I’m starting to think I shouldn’t have accepted Derek’s invitation at all. I start to look around for the nearest exits which is when Derek finally shows his face, approaching me with two drinks in hand.

“Sup bruh! I’m so stoked you could make it! This party is gonna be absolutely killer soon so I hope you can stick around!”

“Ah, well I was-”

“I brought you a little drink broski! I know shit like this isn’t your cup of tea so I figured you’d take the assist, this stuff’ll loosen you right up.”

I take the cup from him and just avoid wretching from fumes of alcohol coming from the cup now in my hand. I assumed it was just a beer but it looks like some horrible mixed drink.

“It’s Everclear and Hawaiian Punch bro! As soon as you get past the first taste you barely notice the burn!”

He continues to stand there as I fail to brainstorm a way out of at least trying this. I see a potted plant across the room and know my next move. I’ll give the drink one chance to get Derek off my back and dump it as soon as he turns his.

It’s honestly not as bad as I thought it would be, it doesn’t even seem alcoholic actually? It’s just sweet? Almost to a sickly degree. I don’t really taste the punch either, it's just… 

I start to take another sip before noticing that impossibly, my cup is already empty. I only took a sip though? Something, something is not right. I start to freeze up before Derek starts shaking me, his hand holding a second cup of the punch high above his head shouting, “Brooo! You just demolished that! Fuck! I’ve gotta see that again!” He shoves the second cup into my hand and begins to push his way back towards the punch bowl “Everyone outta the way! This nerd has got to have more to drink!”

I watch him longer than I should have, dumbfounded holding this drink that I didn’t want. Don’t want? My vision gets blurry as I watch him maneuver his massive body through the crowd. Woah, I guess this is what alcohol does? I feel myself start to grin watching him struggle to fill a two-liter with whatever that punch is. Jungle juice? Oh Shit? Is he bringing that to me? 

The DJ switches playlists and I feel excitement quickly start to build in my chest. I fuckin’ love this song! I start to inch towards the crowd before I’m elbowed in the face and my glasses fall directly into my cup.

“Hey dude! I need those to fuc- I need those to see” I instinctively shout as I look to see my glasses just peeking out of my cup. Before picking them out though, I notice that my vision is actually better now? Which briefly starts to set my veins afire once more, why have I been going to a fucking optometrist for years I start to think, clenching my jaw before I look closer into my cup.

This alcohol must really be getting to me or Derek is pulling another prank on me or something. My hair looks so stupid up like that. I start to move my hand to fix it before seeing my arm reflected. 

Or is that even my arm? It shouldn’t be? It’s the size of my head. I shouldn't be able to life something that size if I wanted to. I need to get some fresh air, or just some quiet space. I need to get out. I need-

“Party king coming through! Sorry bro I couldn’t get the bottle to fuckin work so I hope two more cups will do” I see two cups clenched in massive hairy, may as well be, paws starting to pass back through the dance floor. My own hand flexes and I drop my drink, spilling it all over my shoes as I bolt to find a bathroom. Cheers of “Party Foul” ring out as I dash, completely ditching my glasses without a second thought.

I weasel my way through the crowd feeling less agile than usual. Finding it much easier to shove these pipsqueaks out of the way than to squeeze between them before I find peace in the second floor restroom, miraculously without a line outside. I don’t question why I suddenly know the layout of this house as I slam the door and take a deep breath. Music still comes through the door as I reach for the light and prepare to look in the mirror.

The haircut was the least of my concerns. I look like a beast as I start to hyperventilate. I feel the music outside the room quicken matching my heartbeat, my newly 20/20 eyes stare into themselves as they turn from blue to a deep brown and visibly lose acuity. I feel my biceps pressing against the sleeves of my t-shirt narrowly avoiding a deliberate flex to rip the shirt apart. 

I notice a stink other than jungle juice coming up from my feet as I feel them beginning to push against the tongue of my shoe. I collapse to the floor and quickly struggle to untie my laces before squeezing my feet out. Immediately apparent are drastically rattier socks than I remember putting on to get ready for this party. Full of holes and stains, I dread knowing whose socks these are and what is happening before recognizing them as my own. Or really they could be any of my bros socks but who cares.

As soon as this thought pushes its way into my head a pit drops into my stomach. I am an only child, I don’t have any bros, or well, I have a house full of bros now right? Getting up off the floor I again glance into the mirror. My jaw is wider, my stubble itches but just like it always does, right? I put my face in my hands creating enough strain in my small shirt to force a tear down the back. Why am I wearing such tiny tiny clothes anyway? Must be Derek hazing me again huh. I think holding in a guffaw, I wonder how he got me in these?

I tear the rest of my shirt away before doing the same to my pants which is when I learn that I have apparently been going commando this whole time. Now free of these nerdy-ass clothes I flex in the mirror. Pecs popping like always, my bros always say the hair hides my pump but who cares bro I want to look like a man. I briefly shake my cock at myself in the mirror smirking and see laid out behind me are a change of clothes that Derek must have laid out for me. 

There are a pair of slides, some athletic shorts and a massive stringer that says “Party Prince” Bro! He must have made us matching shirts! 

I quickly start to change to match with my Bro and see cologne on the counter. I’m sure bro won't mind if I use it. Each spritz I feel myself fill out my tank even more, veins beginning to peak out down my arms and my package becomes even harder to miss in my shorts. I do a few more poses in the mirror before hearing a knock at the bathroom door.

“Bro you in there? The party’s dying without you bro!”

Hearing my big bros’ cry for help I get my head in the game. I’ve got to bring it tonight. I kick the locked door open, completely shattering the door frame as I cry out- “Who’s ready to drink tonight,” tossing the awaiting cup of jungle juice into the air over the crowd.

[43qh]

hii! i love your writing so far <3 could i request some quinn angst (or jack if you'd prefer to write abt him 🫣) maybe like the reader overhears him saying something hurtful (calling them clingy maybe) and starts to distance themselves from him.. and how they would navigate that

of course! your wish is my command, darling

quinn hughes x fem!reader

genre: angst

word count: 934

warnings: hurtful words said by quinn

your heart pounds in your chest. you really didn’t mean to eavesdrop, really. it was a harmless act. you were going to bring clothes from the laundry room to his bedroom, prepared to help him put his clothes away. but the second you heard your name slip from quinn’s mouth, you couldn’t help yourself.

you really wish you had just walked away.

“i love her, i really do.” quinn sighs, “sometimes it can be a bit much though, y’know?”

you gulp as you stand outside the door, listening in as your body falls cold.

“i like my space, everyone knows that.” quinn says nonchalantly.

you had heard enough. you dropped the basket of clothes outside his bedroom door before grabbing your keys and walking out his front door.

quinn scrunches his eyebrows, hearing the slight slam of the door. he quickly hangs up the call with his brother and opens his door. his feet fall short from his steps as he notices the laundry basket just sitting there. he curses under his breath, surely you had heard the call. maybe more than he had wanted and less than he anticipated. it makes him run a hand through his hair, immediately calling you.

when his call goes to voicemail, he stares at his screen in ache. he understands. he knows what he said was wrong. he should have addressed to you first how he felt. you shouldn’t have had to hear it over a phone call with his younger brother.

he could only really imagine how puffy your eyes looked right now. how you would silently cry so no one else noticed. how you would wipe your tears as quickly as they came. his heart ached. he never meant to hurt you. honestly, he wasn’t really sure if what he said was true.

he enjoyed your company. he loved it, actually. and quinn was starting to fear the attachment he had grown towards you in just a year. your relationship was still all about navigating right now, and he wasn’t sure how to approach this situation.

his only logical thinking was to give you space. but it hurt his heart as days passed, and you still didn’t reach out. your distance was hard for him. he was missing something he didn’t know he would miss so badly. the way you always lingered around him and checked in on him. the way you made him tea to relax his muscles from a long day of practice. the way you would hug him tightly the second he came home from a tiring game.

he missed it all so much.

how was he going to fix any of this?

quinn didn’t have a logical thought as he rushed towards your apartment. clicking the elevator floor you lived on, approaching your door and knocking just three times.

when your door opened, he was greeted with an exhausted look on your face. your eyes widened, before your gaze turned cold and you turned your chin up at him. you didn’t want to appear weak. you didn’t want to seem like you needed him anymore.

“baby,” he says just above a whisper, and you can hear the strain in his voice.

you look at him, not saying a word as you cross your arms. he could feel how uncomfortable you were. it was tearing him apart.

“i’m so sorry.” he leans forward a bit, still careful not to enter the comforts of your home. he wasn’t sure he was welcomed anymore. “i know what you heard. i know i said shit that made it sound like i was tired of you.” quinn watches as your eyes turn glossy, avoiding his gaze at his words, “but i need you to know, you’re never too much for me. sure, i like my time alone. but that never compares to the time i spend by your side. i’m so fucking scared. genuinely,” he breathes out a sigh, “i’m so scared that i’ll get too close and ruin everything. i may have already done that, but you mean a lot more to me than you know. i said those things out of fear. i wasn’t even sure i meant them when i said them. and, now, i know i didn’t mean it. losing you for even just a few days was a price i had to pay to realize that, and i’m sorry that’s what it took for me to see it.”

his words sink through you and consume you like sponge. you’re soaking every word and digesting them like it was your own personal bible. like he was your religion.

you lick your lips, not saying anything as you hurriedly drag him inside your apartment. he doesn’t protest, loving the feeling of your skin finally on his, even if it was just your hand on his. he missed it, causing sparks to run through his body.

“i forgive you,” you look at him, still holding his hand.

“i’ll never make a mistake like that again.” quinn confesses. and it’s like he’s in a confession stand.

“i know.” and you do. you trust him.

“can i kiss you?” quinn doesn’t stop himself from leaning close to you, “i missed you so, so bad.”

you only nod, and he doesn’t waste time bringing your lips to his. it felt like coming home. it was a lock in time, making your head spin as you realized just how much you missed the way he tasted, the way he felt. it was electric, bringing you back to life all over again.

quinn vowed to never hurt you again.

[ironcroft11]

In defense of Gwen in Across the Spider-Verse

Okay. First of all: This post is gonna be super long and have tons of spoilers so if you don’t want to get spoiled for Across the Spider-Verse then don’t read this post. I have seen way too many people hate on Gwen because of her actions and her behavior towards Miles in Across the Spider-Verse. I’ll show you why that hate completely misses her arc in the movie and her true intentions/relationship with Miles. This post will also delve into Gwiles/Ghostflower since that is a big part of what shapes her intentions.  Many people say Gwen betrayed Miles and doesn’t really care about him. They say Miles shouldn’t forgive her and that she is a snake for what she did. I’ll show you why the opposite is true by going through the events of the movie in cronological order: The movie literally starts off with Gwen talking about Miles. She is drumming away, which is, mentioned by herself, a way for her to cope with her feelings. That opening from Gwen is a small glimpse into her head. We see how she feels and what she thinks. The interesting thing is that it’s basically Gwen broadly narrating the events of the entire movie. We even see glimpses of future scenes in that intro. The line of narration that is most important here is Gwen saying “I didn’t want to hurt him. But I did. And he is not the only one.” This shows us IMMEDIATELY that Gwen did not intend to hurt Miles AT ALL. Quite the contrary. It also shows that she is AWARE she hurt Miles. She knows she fucked up. That is going to be important later on when she needs to make the tough decision regarding Miles/The Spider Society. 

We then follow her as she goes home, still thinking about Miles and then, of course, her Peter. Note that this is roughly 1 year after Into the Spider-Verse. 1 year after she met Miles she still thinks about him daily. “I haven’t really made any friends after that [Peter’s death], except one. But there is no way to get there.” She misses Miles and wishes there was a way to visit him. Obviously she still very much cares and thinks about him.

At Gwen’s home we are first shown what her conflict with her father looks like. That conflict is obviously one of the main aspects of her arc and what drives her actions later on in the movie. You can see it is strained but you can still see that they obviously love each other very much. Gwen struggles as her father is basically hunting her down without knowing its is actually her. What pains her the most, though, is that her father is convinced that Spider-Gwen killed her best friend, Peter Parker. That way he, without knowing, makes Gwen feel guilty about the death of her best friend. Gwen is trying to get over Peter’s death but is held back by her dad, unbeknownst to him. 

Gwen caring and missing Miles a lot is brought up again when she sees the picture of her and Miles that they made in Into the Spider-Verse (which she had made into a polaroid so she can actually have it on her/in her hands). Her eyes look on with sadness and her color is dark blue. The colors in Gwen’s dimension are used to portray her feelings. Dark/blue tones for sadness and light/pink tones for happiness/comfort. At this point, seeing Miles again is probably one of her dearest wishes. Miles understands her and knows who she truly is. This is going to be important later on.

During Gwens fight with Vulture at the Museum we are introduced to Miguel O’hera, Spider-Man 2099, who saves her from Vulture. He introduces himself but Gwen seems unimpressed and uninterested. What she is very much interested in, though, is Miguel’s Dimension Watch. “You can go to any dimension you want with that watch?” She just met an entirely new Spider-Man and all she is interested in is his technology that might allow her to go and visit Miles. That is how much she misses him.

As the duo fight off Vulture Miguel calls for back-up and they are joined by Spider-Woman Jessica Drew. Her and Gwen have an immediate bond which will be very important later on. Gwen immediately looks up to her and sees her as a mentor from who she can learn a lot. Gwen impresses Jessica so much that she asks Miguel if they want to recruit her for Miguel’s Spider-Society. “What about her?” “No.” “Why not?” “You know why.” Miguel and Jessica studied the entire Kingpin collider event. They know who was involved and they know that Gwen and Miles are friends. Miguel doesn’t want to recruit Gwen because she is too close to Miles. Why that is a problem we all know. (Miles being the original anomoly) From the start they knew Gwen’s relationship with Miles might end up jeopardizing their goal of protecting the Spider-Verse.

We then go on to this scene. Gwen confronting her father and her father finding out that Spider-Woman, the vigilante he was dedicated to catching and locking up, is actually his daughter. This is a key moment in Gwen’s arc throughout the movie. Her father accuses her of lying to him. All Gwen wants right now is support from her father. She doesn’t get that, instead her father wants to lock her up for the murder of her Peter Parker. At this point she is immensely conflicted. “I don’t know how to fix this.” Jessica Drew notices that and convinces Miguel to let Gwen join the Spider-Society. 

Gwen seeing no immediate solution to her problem decides to accept the invite. She is not yet ready to confront the problem and walks away from it, despite being conflicted. This will be at the back of her head throughout her entire arc and throughout the entire movie. Until she is ready to confront her dad who, remember, wants to lock her up, she CAN’T return to her home dimension. Her going back would mean her having to confront a problem she is not yet ready to confront. 

The next time we see Gwen is after we are introduced to Miles again. This is Gwen seeing Miles again for the first time after 1 year and 4 months. Her immediate reaction is to tightly hug him. You can, in that hug alone, see how much she missed him. You can also pick up all kind of little things in this scene. One is how awkward Gwen is. She is cringing at herself for telling him he had a growth spurt. There are obviously some unresolved feelings between the two.

Gwen then goes through his sketchbook and finds Miles’ drawings of her. She is surprised to see so many drawings of her but plays it off smoothly. “Missed you too.” It’s obvious that both missed each other immensely. But we haven’t even seen the entire extend of how MUCH Gwen ACTUALLY missed Miles. We only find out about that a bit later.

Miles and Gwen then swing through the city and catch up. Their chemistry is on full display here. I absolutely adore this scene. Gwen tells Miles that the Spider-Society is really strict about where she goes otherwise she would have come to visit him sooner. What’s important here is that at this point Gwen KNOWS about Miles’ “condition”. She knows he is an anomoly and she knows that his father dying is a canon event. And at this time she BELIEVES in these canon events. She thinks they must be upheld or the multiverse collapses. That’s what Miguel told her. 

During their swing Gwen uses a moment in which Miles is distracted to place her surveillance device for Spot. You can see, even with her mask, how much it pains her to keep the truth from Miles nd having to leave him in the dark. We find out: Gwen is not here because of Miles but because she is supposed to catch Spot since Spot is an anomoly. 

What follows is one of the biggest Gwiles moments in the movie and also a very important scene when it comes to Gwen and her feelings towards Miles. They sit down at the Williamsburgh Bank Building and have a heart to heart. 

Gwen tells Miles that it is always so great to talk to him and that he is the only friend she ever really made since Peter died. Miles, knowing about Hobie, says “Other than Hobie, right?” and Gwen answers “That’s different.” This shows us that Gwen’s relationship and feelings for Miles are different from the relationship she has with Hobie. That’s because she literally has feelings for Miles, and she knows that Miles, in some way at least, feels the same. “We’re the same, in the important ways.” Gwen then says a line that literally shows she has fallen for Miles, otherwise there would be no need for her to mention it. “In every other universe Gwen Stacy falls for Spider-Man.” This is Gwen telling Miles that she has feelings for him. 

Hearing that reassures Miles and he moves his hand closer to hers. 

This is important: Gwen sees this! 

And then closes her eyes and flinches. She flinches because she wants to take his hand so bad that it literally pains her that she can’t. We find out why she can’t with her next words: “And in every other universe it doesn’t end well.” Gwen knows about canon events and knows they need to happen. She was probably being told that Gwen Stacy falling for Spider-Man and it not ending will is a canon event. 

She then gives Miles a look that I can only describe as “loving”. She would probably love to tell him more about canon events and everything regarding the Spider-Society. But like she said: She doesn’t know how to. She doesn’t want to hurt him and she wants to protect him.

Miles then tells her “There’s a first time for everything, right?” which makes Gwen chuckle and smile at him. It’s the first time where Gwen is confronted with Miles’ philosophy of going down his own patch and not bending to the rules of canon. Even if canon dictates something, Miles believes there is always a way. 

This rubs off on Gwen as she affectionately leans on Miles, enjoying the sunset with him.  Not only is this overall scene incredibly beautiful and masterfully animated but its purpose is to show us that these two indeed love each other. They want to be together but Gwen, at this stage, feels like canon is against them.

Miles and Gwen then enjoy some food in quiet and keep talking about the Spider-Society and how Miles wants to be a part of it. Gwen, without being able to tell him the truth, shuts him down and lies to him. Again, she is not ready to tell him everything, the same way she is not ready to confront her father. These 2 conflicts go hand in hand as they are her 2 biggest conflicts that she has to overcome. Gwen then snaps at Miles because he was about to find the surveillance footage of Spot which would therefore uncover her true reason for being there. Gwen obviously doesn’t want that to happen because she doesn’t want to hurt Miles. She wants to keep him away from the Spider-Society because she knows he is an anomoly AND because she knows he wouldn’t be safe there.

After she snaps at him she immediately apologizes though. They both get REALLY close after that, closer than I had remembered from my first viewing. They also lock eyes. I’m pretty sure if not for Rio, Miles and Gwen would have kissed here. Rio interrupts them and they have an awkward talk. Rio and Jeff obviously think there is something going on between Miles and Gwen which is the source of the awkwardness. 

Gwen then gets a signal from her dimension watch which is caused by the explosion that Spot caused. She missed her time window to catch him because she was having so much fun being around Miles. Gwen quickly leaves after that, having to lie to both Miles and his parents. 

You can tell she doesn’t want to leave Miles. She wants to stay, but she can’t. She is conflicted. And she is conflicted throughout the entire movie. That makes her arc so interesting. 

What follows is one of the most important interactions in the movie that show Gwen’s motives. She arrives at the explosion and realizes Spot escaped. Jessica Drew, who Gwen looks up to, remember, calls her and asks her where Spot is. Gwen tries to play the whole situation down, not wanting to be seen as a failure. That has one big reason: Since Gwen is a liability to the Spider-Society because of her connection to Miles she has to constantly prove her worth, otherwise Miguel will send her back to her universe. That is one of Gwens biggest fears. Having to confront her father again. She is not yet ready for that so she basically does everything that is asked of her, even if she doesn’t necessarily agree with it.  Jessica notices that Gwen is nervous and asks her if she visited Miles. Gwen again tries to play it down but eventually admits she went to see Miles. Jessica gets angry with her and Gwen tells her she will never see Miles again. Her voice noticeably breaks when she says that. That interaction tells us one very important point: Gwen was not allowed to visit Miles. AT ALL. Miguel has forbidden Gwen to see Miles. He probably also told her why. Miles is an anomoly and him getting entangled with the Spider-Society might end up badly. And Gwen, knowing all that, knowing she might risk the multiverse, knowing she might risk getting sent back to her own dimension and having to confront her father, STILL decided to visit Miles. That is how much she cares about Miles. She literally risked the stabilty of the multiverse for the opportunity to see Miles again. Even if its only for one evening. This alone should end the debate about how Gwen “doesn’t care about Miles”. She obviously does. A lot. 

This can be taken even further.  “You never made a mistake? Never got too close to someone?” This is literally Gwen telling Jessica that the reason she went to see Miles is because she has feelings for him. Jess replies by saying she did but that she got over it, prompting Gwen to do the same. We, of course, know that she can’t. 

This is one of the most emotional scenes in the movie for me. After Gwens dialogue with Jess she knows her only chance to stay on Miguels good side is to follow Spot to Mumbattan and catch him. She has to leave and knows she will never see Miles again. She longingly looks towards the rooftop she and Miles stood on just moments ago, not knowing Miles is invisible and right in front of her.  She whispers a last “Goodbye Miles” as she heartbreakingly decides to leave. As much as it pains Gwen, she thinks leaving now without explaining anything to Miles might hurt him, but it does keep him safe and away from the Spider-Society. It’s a lose lose situation for Gwen. She is fighting a losing battle. On one side she has Miles and the desire to be with him, on the other side the entire Spider-Verse and the conflict with her father. The fact she is even contemplating shows how loyal she is towards Miles.

Miles follows her through the portal and catches her off guard. Gwen didn’t know he was listening and thought she would never see him again. Miles, being in another universe without a dimension watch, glitches and endangers both him and Gwen. Gwen then says that she “never should have visited” Miles.  She obviously meant the fact that NOW Miles is involved and they can’t go back now. She didn’t want Miles to be a part of it and now regrets that she pulled him into this. She is more angry at herself than at Miles here. 

When the canon event approaches Gwen tries to stop Miles from disrupting it. Again, a lose lose situation for Gwen. She knows (or at least thinks at this point) that disrupting canon events can cause universe to unravel. She also knows how dangerous canon events are and that there is a good chance Miles might die if he tries to intervene. 

Miles, not knowing about canon events at all yet, intervenes anyway. (Because he is Spider-Man, duh) While trying to save Captain Singh and the little girl he gets covered by rubble. Gwen and Hobie go down to the scene and while Hobie immediately helps Pav to pull up the bus Gwen literally makes a dash for the rubble and tries to find Miles. All the while screaming his name, her voice breaking while doing so. The relief in her voice when she finds him alive and well is very noticeable. (Great voice acting by Hailee Steinfeld)

After disrupting the canon event, Miles asks Gwen what she thinks of the situation. Gwen, almost affectionately whispering to him, tells him that she always thinks that he is amazing. Another moment that makes these two get closer and it shows how much admiration Gwen has for Miles. Even after disrupting a canon event, Gwen thinks the world of Miles. This highlights her conflict again. While still believing in these canon events, Miles is slowly but surely changing her mind about them. He is not quite there yet but it’s coming.

We then go the Spider-Society HQ where Gwen introduces Miles to Miguel. Miguel immediately becomes hostile and blames Miles for disrupting the canon event. Gwen knows that Miles did in fact disrupt the canon event but still defends him.  “He doesn’t know any better:” Miles has no knowledge about canon events or anything related to it so he can’t be blamed for what he did. Gwen knows that, which is also a reason why she tried to stop him. 

Miles then finds out about the structure of the Spider-Verse and about canon events. Miles also finds out that Gwen did not only try to save him but also stop him from disrupting the canon event. 

When Miles finds out his fathers death is a canon event that has to occur you can see Gwen frowning. She knew this and now Miles knows it.  There is no easy way to tell that to someone. Not if you’re close friends and not if you haven’t seen each other for a year. It pains Gwen that Miles has to go through that, and on top of that she can relate to it as well, because...

... Gwen’s father is also a Captain who’s death is a canon event. This adds another layer to her inner conflict. She believes in these canon events and therefore also believes that her father has to die. Gwen, in that aspect, is similar to Miguel. She accepts it, runs away from it. Similar to how she runs away from the conflict with her father. 

Miles confronts the other Spider’s and tells them he can’t sit back and let his father die. He then tells Gwen, referencing her earlier statement, that she was right and that she never should have visited her. Miles does NOT say that because he hates Gwen. He says that because he is distraught and because of the fact that if Gwen hadn’t shown up he’d still be in his dimension. (Where he wants to be to protect his father) Gwen starts to cry because this is OBVIOUSLY not how she wanted it to go and how she wanted Miles to find out.  The fact is: There was never a right time or way to explain it to Miles. Gwen isn’t an emotionless puppet that never struggles or is perfect. She loves Miles and she simply couldn’t bring it over her heart to tell him that his father will die and that he isn’t supposed to be Spider-Man. She wants him to be happy and to be safe, and from her perspective the best way to do that is to keep him away from the Spider-Society. 

When Miguel traps Miles to stop him from going home Gwen and Peter get really agitated.  “That’s enough.” “Stop it Miguel.” They don’t want to be on opposite sides to Miles. They want to talk it out. Of course the chance for that is now gone. You can still see that both still very much are on “Miles’ side”. Gwen is put into a situation where she is forced to choose between her friend or the Spider-Society. 

While they chase Miles, Jess confronts Gwen and tells her that even though Miles is Gwen’s friend, capturing him is the only way.  Gwen then tells Jess that that’s not what her gut says. This, again, shows her conflict. She KNOWS she is supposed to be on Miles’ side. It’s what her gut is saying. It’s what her heart is saying. Her head is still thinking that the multiverse must be protected, and that canon events must be stopped from being disrupted.

She then listens to her head and tries to grab Miles with her web. The look on her face says it all. It’s pain, love and an apology all in one. Miles destroys the web, symbolic for their trust.  Miles breaks the net, he is saying that he doesn’t trust Gwen anymore.  Gwen knows that, which is why after Miles breaks the net her look is one of complete sadness and disbelief. Not disbelief because she couldn’t imagine Miles not trusting her but rather diesbelief because she can’t believe it has come this far.

She continues the chase for Miles because she doesn’t know what else to do. When Miguel calls for every Spider-Man after they found out Miles’ location you can see Gwen having a look of dread and defeat on her face. She did’t want it to go this far. She still wants to talk it out and make up with him. She feels sorry and is slowly starting to regret her choices. 

While on the train Gwen and Peter keep calling out to Miguel, telling him that he should stop and to take it easy on Miles. Miguel doesn’t listen.

This scene is where the trust between Miles and Gwen is broken completely. Miles finds out that Gwen knew all along that he is an anomoly and that his father is supposed to die. He finds out that Gwen didn’t know how to tell him that and that that’s one of the reasons she didn’t come to visit him. 

Gwen then tells Miles that its for his own good, a lie she told herself to make her feel better. She full on regrets her choices by now. She knows she made a mistake but feels too distraught to really do anything about it. Her world slowly comes crashing down on her.

Miles is able to overpower Miguel and sends him flying down the train. The way Gwen looks down at Miguel is really interesting. Its a look of pride and relief. She is proud of how far Miles has come that he is able to escape from Miguel and reliefed that he was actually able to.

While Gwen thinks that now the way is free for her and Peter to get to Miles and explain everything to him, Miles just gives them a look of hurt, sadness and betrayal. He then says “Goodbye Gwen”, again mirroring Gwen’s goodbye earlier in the movie. Both were sad but for very different reasons.

The change of expression from Gwen says it all.  This goodbye from Miles, in his eyes, is final. He feels betrayed and hurt and just wants to get home to save his dad. While Gwen and Peter probably want to just talk to Miles and explain everything, Miles may think they want to capture him, too. And Miles can’t take that chance.

After Miles decides to jump Gwen, again, has an expression of relief on her face. This time the relief is because Miles managed to really escape Miguel and the other Spiders. She knows Miles will be safe, for now.

Miles manages to escape and Gwen is furious with Miguel. Furious as to how he treated Miles and how he managed the whole ordeal. 

She speaks up and Miguel blames Gwen for the Spider-Society losing Miles.  This is where Gwen starts to see that she actually doesn’t have the Spider-Societies back and that she should have taken Miles’ side from the beginning. She slowly realizes the true extent of her mistake. 

Gwen then proposes to talk it out with Miles, on her own. Miguel refuses, saying they tried that already.

She goes on to tell that Miles is her friend and is starting to question the whole “Canon event” topic. “Do you know for certain what happens when he breaks the Canon?” She is starting to fully side with Miles. 

Miguel tells her he knew from the beginning that her relationship with Miles was a liability. Gwen looks to Jess for support but doesn’t get it. She is now on her own, same as Miles. 

Gwen gets sent to her home universe, the thing she dreaded most. The last thing she tells Miguel is that they are supposed to be the good guys. That shows where she stands in regards to the conflict inside herself. She now knows that what Miguel and the Society does is wrong.  She was on the Society’s side, now she is on Miles’ side. 

She immediately tries to go to Miles’ dimension but she is locked out from using the dimension watch. Miguel denied her access. Gwen is furious and now trapped in her home dimension. 

She returns home and wants to collect the polaroid of her and Miles. She doesn’t want to confront her father yet, but we all knew it was inevitably coming.

Gwen confronts her dad and opens up to him. She pours her heart out and tells him how she really feels.  Remember, Gwen is a 16 year old girl. She carried the burden of her rensponsibility and the conflict inside her while still always trying to do the right thing.  But she says it best in this scene, “She doesn’t know what right or wrong is anymore.” The entire time she believed these canon events to be absolute and followed through with the Spider-Society’s plans because she thought it was the right thing to do.  In the process she hurt and betrayed the only real friend she had. And that was the straw that broke the camels back. Her intentions are now clear.

“I can’t lose one more friend.” She doesn’t know whats right or whats wrong, all she knows is that she can’t lose Miles. 

During her speech her father decides to quit his job as captain, freeing him from the canon event. This is when Gewn realizes that canon events might not be absolute and that they can be disrupted without dooming the dimension. She realizes Miles might have been doing the right thing all along. 

After making up with her dad the only thing left to do for Gwen is to go and find Miles. With the help of Hobie’s watch that is actually possible now.

Gwen arrives in Miles’ universe and finds out that Miles is in the wrong universe. She overhears Rio and Jeff talk about Miles. They mention Miles lighting up when he is around Gwen and that they hope she doesn’t get him hurt. This is where the full realization of her actions become clear to Gwen. She hurt Miles and didn’t help him when he needed her the most, and she hates herself for that.

She blames herself for what happened to Miles, even though it is not her fault entirely. 

Gwen tells Rio and Jeff that she is going to find Miles and bring him back. She also tells them what she learned from Miles. “All is possible.” This is the lesson Miles gives Gwen in this movie. It is a lesson she needed to learn. She now fully believes that anything is possible. This will come into play in Beyond the Spider-Verse when they are going to try and stop canon events from happening. 

She resolves the conflict with her father, parts ways with the Spider-Society and has only one goal left now: To find and make up with Miles. In her arc Gwen faced the conflict of choosing her friend or the greater good. On one hand is Miles, who she obviously has feelings for. On the other hand there is the Spider-Society who tell her how the multiverse works and how dangerous Miles and other anomolies are. In the end, her friend won, though it was a harsh process that damaged their trust and relationship.  Gwen is not perfect and isn’t always right. She is a 16 year old girl with tons of complex conflicts going on. She fights a constant battle with herself and her feelings. She makes mistakes, as do Miles, Peter, Miguel and the others. The important thing is that Gwen learns from these mistakes.  This also shows that she doesn’t hate or not care about Miles like some people have said. If anything her actions show to which lengths she went for Miles to be safe.  She knows she hurt Miles and is going to make up for it in Beyond the Spider-Verse. 

[aajjks]

Needy (m)

synopsis. you think he’s needy? He’ll show you just how needy he can be.

warnings. mature themes, kissing, extreme yandere behaviour, manipulation, cute koo, sexy times, sexual tension, marking, oh it’s hot, unhealthy dependance, triggering themes.

taglist: @lustfulpjm @bebejungkook @bunnysandsunflowers @livid-and-in-love @dimguin

disclaimer. This is purely fictional, viewer discretion is heavily advised. Do not romanticise this behaviour, strictly for entertainment purposes only!

“Noona.”

His voice calls out, cutting off your thoughts as you felt his hand wrap around your body, his other hand snaking around your waist,

He nuzzled his face into your neck, the cold and wet feeling of his tongue on your neck always sent shivers down your spine, the way his warm breath fanned over your pulse point, making goosebumps appear on your skin.

You could never really get used to his touchy nature.

“Hi baby.” You replied, looking at the papers in your hand. “Noona…. What are you doing?” He whined,

“I’m just looking through some important documents from work.”

Jungkook hummed, rubbing his nose into your neck. “Woke up early today hmm?” You turned the page, sighing. “‘Was cold without you, noona.”

You gave the documents a double look and closed them once you were satisfied. It was cold, undoubtedly, Seoul could be ruthlessly cold in winter.

Jungkook turned your body so you could face him now.

“Noona, can you skip work today and spend more time with me? Please?” The man child pouted, his sleepy eyes looking at you with hope. You caressed his cheek, you wanted to spend time with him too,

well, you always tried your hardest to spend the majority of your free time with him, he was your responsibility after all.

But the thing with Jungkook was that he was kind of…. Needy.

He wanted your attention 24/7.

He didn’t care if you had to work, Jungkook didn’t understand the importance of earning money or having your own privacy.

“Baby I have an important meeting today, I’m sorry.” You watched his gaze turn somber, “I can’t miss it sweetheart.” You whispered in his ear, your fingers caressing his cheek.

“Why?” His eyes turned glossy as he blinked twice. Oh him and his fragile heart, you felt bad, and guilty.

“Baby… actually my boss is hosting a new years dinner party tonight too… so I can’t skip it, it is mandatory for all the senior employees to attend.”

Jungkook whimpered at the thought of being away from you for so many hours, his hands grabbed your waist again.

“N-Noona what about me?”

He stopped sniffling and stared at you with a strange look. “I-I’ll miss you noona! VERY MUCH!” He pulled you in for a hug.

You sighed, “baby you know I don’t like to leave you alone a lot too… but I don’t really have a choice?”

He didn’t reply, his eyes were now bloodshot as he cried. He pulled you in for a hug. Your heart melted immediately at his gesture,

Jungkook was finally starting to behave like himself. But you needed to warn him.

clicking your tongue while you embraced him you spoke, “I don’t want you to behave like before Jungkook I’m serious.” You patted his back.

“I’ll be back before you know it!” No use though. He didn’t stop sobbing, you were sure he whined under his breath.

Your little brat.

He was mumbling something but you couldn’t hear him clearly, “jungkook.” You called out, trying to get out of his grip but the bunny man tightened his hold on your body.

Wow. He was too strong.

“Okay kookie I’m starting to get annoyed, my coffee is getting cold and don’t you want breakfast?”

“Want noona!” You pushed his shoulders [well tried to.] so he’d loosen his grip but it wasn’t working.

“So…” now there was only one way to get him to leave you.

“You don’t want the pizza with extra crust?” His heavy breathing stopped for a moment, he broke the hug and looked directly into your eyes, the glossy pupils dilated at the mention of his favourite food.

Ha, he was easy.

“Noona you’re s-so evil!” His tail wiggled and his ears perked up, his expressions were betraying his body. “But… firstly, you’ll eat the porridge I made.”

“NO NOONA YOU ARE TOO EVIL!”

You rolled your eyes as you walked over the kitchen counter, a wicked smile on your lips.

“Learned from my evil bunny.” You blew a kiss, winking.

“Okay stop drooling Jungkook.”

Jungkook watched you put on the black coat, his long hair almost falling over his eyes that were so focused on you, his eyes followed your every moment but he didn’t speak a word.

Just watched you quietly, his mouth open, his eyes turning hazy with your each moment, God, you looked so sexy.

The shade of that lipstick was perfect, it complimented your beautiful complexion so much,

your lips, Oh God, your lips.

“My noona is so pretty.” He breathed deeply, taking your attention, Jungkook’s heart fluttered when you smiled at him, he loved it so much when your eyes twinkled.

“Aww thanks Jungkook!”

He didn’t reply, too lost in your thoughts as he stalked towards you, “I really want to kiss you noona, can I?”

The room’s atmosphere shifted as he blurted that out, your hands stopped buttoning up the coat and he could tell the way your breath hitched.

“Please?” He stopped right before you, not waiting for your answer as he pushed your body towards his, your chest hitting his hard one as he inhaled your scent.

“So heavenly..” he whispered.

You were at a loss for words but didn’t stop him as he grabbed your face, bringing it closer to his.

Jungkook could feel your knees tremble as he refused to take his eyes away from your face, his lips now inches away from yours,

He was pulsing, he felt so hypnotised as his lips touched yours, his brain froze, his whole body felt like it was on fire.

He felt so hungry.

He swallowed your trembling breath as he kissed you like it was the last time he’d ever get to. Your hands grabbed his dark locks as his fingers traveled down towards your core, spreading your legs easily.

“Oh fuck!” He whimpered when you tucked at his hair.

God, he was sounding so sinful.

Jungkook could die while kissing you and he’d be so thankful, your lips were made for him.

So damn perfect.

He finally broke the kiss, his high getting intense as he kissed your neck, your heavy breathing making his legs feel like jelly.

His teeth were hot on your skin as he sucked on the spot that made your eyes roll back, he was eager to leave his marks on your neck so you couldn’t hide them even if you tried.

So everyone could know you belonged to him age him only,

“My noona. Only mine,” he growled possessively, you mewled out, unable to respond, Jungkook grabbed your hips as he settled your thighs on his waist,

“You can’t leave me, noona. I will make sure of that.”

[magics-neptunes-things]

Shy Girl (2)

Hi guys!

This is the second part for Shy Girl, it was fun to write so I hope you will like it :)

It's longer that I thought tho. Sorry if there is some mistakes, Tumblr was a pain in my ass.

Enjoy!

TW : None

_____________________________________________________________

After the evening you met Alexia, you didn’t stay for long in Barcelona. You are engaged for a film on a rather large scale since you play in an American production and for one of the greatest current directors. You are always very careful to study the profiles of people offering you roles, preferring not to play in a promising film rather than finding yourself with someone crooked.

You talked about it at one point during your exchanges with Alexia and she confided in you about all that the Spanish team has experienced in recent years because of the Federation. But that’s just part of the different conversations you’ve had over the last couple of weeks. After talking a few times on Instagram, Alexia asked for your phone number and you continued by messages and sometimes FaceTime.

Sometimes you had to change countries, but you always managed to find a time to exchange news. You must admit that when a break is taking between two takes, you hurry to check your phone to see if you have not received a message from Alexia. Little do you know that she does the same in training, undergoing the teasing of her teammates.

********

Alexia 👑 Hey! When are you coming back to Barcelona again?

You I'm coming on Friday Why?

Alexia 👑 If I give you tickets, would you like to watch me play?

You Wait, you can play again?! 😱

Alexia 👑 Just had the go from the medical staff 😊

You Oh god I'm so happy for you 🤗 Of course I'll come, I'm happy you ask

Alexia 👑 I'm happy too. I'll send you all the information soon 💕

It's after this exchange of messages that you find yourself installed once again in the area reserved for families and VIPs, accompanied by your agent and definitely your best friend. Sofia puts her hand on your knee for the tenth time of the evening to prevent you from making it bounce in all directions. Alexia has informed you that she will not start the game, but will be in after the start of the second half.

Alexia is actually training since the return of the teams on the field and you feel the excitement running through the crowd as you see the captain treading the grass. However, it’s nothing against the clamor that resounds in the crowd when Alexia joins the rest of the team for the first time in many weeks. A big smile illuminates your face, similar to Alexia’s before she focuses on the game.

The match turn to Barca's advantage and you stay after the match when the players start their lap at the end of the game. You spotted Alexia’s mom and sister a few seats away from you but you didn’t have the courage to go and greet them. You didn’t agree on a program after the match, you didn’t want to impose yourself too much and you imagined that Alexia would prefer to celebrate her return to the field with her teammates.

You wink at her when she comes to greet her family and you were about to get up to leave the stadium when she beckons you to approach. You hesitate for a split second but your best friend gently pushes you in the back to join her, which you do timidly.

"Hi" smiled Alexia, placing her hand on yours, which is on the metal of the railing. "Can you wait for me to catch up? I'll be quick"

Your skin is hot where she's touching you and you have to use all of yourself to stay focus on the conversation you're having.

"Don’t you want to celebrate with your friends?" you ask while looking at her with your head tilted to the side.

"Maybe after" Alexia replies with some embarrassment that you have trouble understanding.

"Okay. I’ll wait for you then"

You smile and a big smile is displayed on Alexia’s face, who promises once again not to take long before joining you. So you return to the same lobby as a few days ago, accompanied by your agent and best friend. Like the other day, she goes to get you a glass of champagne and you sit on two stools at the back of the room.

You find yourself blushing stupidly when you cross the look of Eli Putellas and you hurry to half hide behind your best friend who rolls her eyes seeing you do.

True to her promise, Alexia quickly appears in the room, stopping once again at her family who kisses her and exchanges a few words with her. Your eyes meet several times during their exchange and you quickly understand at Alexia's sign of head that she wants to introduce you.

"Don’t forget to breathe, you’re going to pass out" Sofia teases you.

It’s your turn to roll your eyes, but your heart beats a little too fast when the three Putellas arrive at your height. You haven’t seen Alexia in person since you met her and with her wet hair and her bright smile, she’s even more stunning than you remember. However, you try to ignore this by listening to Alexia who make the introductions between you four.

After the greetings and exchanges of rigour, you learn in passing that Alba has seen all of your films, Alba and Eli must leave since they both work the next day.

"I’m glad you came" Alexia smiles after her family left and your best friend went to the bathroom.

"I’m glad I came" you assure her by smiling too.

You silently look at each other for a few seconds and you bite your lip, trying to hold her gaze.

"It’s weird to be in front of you after writing to you for two weeks" you finally confess timidly.

"It's weird for me too, but I'm really happy you came. It's mean a lot to me"

She takes your hand in her and when she sees your eyes going on your intertwined hands, she thinks that it's makes you uncomfortable. But when she try to take her hand back, you squeeze it, offering her a timid smile.

"Thanks for inviting me" you say, looking in her eyes.

She smiles and seems to relax, but Sofia come back at this moment and your hands are not longer in one other.

"So, what are you plan for the next days?" Alexia asks.

"I have some interviews while the film is being edited. After that I have to travel around to make the promotion of it, the film preview... And after all that I'm taking some holidays."

"Where are you going?"

"Barcelona probably" you smirk. "We have all we need here"

Alexia smirk back and keep talking with you for more time, until Mapi and some others girls come to look after Alexia. After greeting you, the blond talks to her friend.

"We're going to the restaurant Ale, you coming?"

"Do you want to come with us?" Alexia asks, turning for looking at you.

"I have to say no for her" Sofia intervenes "Early morning interview tomorrow"

You pout but Alexia smile while nodding, kissing your cheek before leaving.

"Well that went well" Sofia comments, smiling over her drink as you touch your cheek where Alexia's lips where seconds ago.

At the same time, Alexia was sighing before taking a last look at you above her shoulder.

"What is it?" Mapi asks her best friend.

"She's so beautiful. And cute. And sweet. I wish I could talk to her longer."

"So whipped already" Mapi scoffs, drawing a frown from her own girlfriend who asks her to leave Alexia alone.

********

Ale 💘 How the interviews went?

You It was great. A little bit tiring to have to answer always the same question but it was alright. How is your knee?

Ale 💘 It's fine, like nothing happened 😊

You Thanks God. I'm happy for you really

Ale 💘 Thanks 😊 Can’t believe I’ve only been back in the field for two weeks Also two weeks since I last saw you

You About that, I have something to ask you but maybe it's a little too much ��

Ale 💘 Tell me?

You As you know, we have the Preview for the film on Thursday in Barcelona

Ale 💘 Yes?

You I was wondering if you would like to come? And maybe being my +1? I know it can be weird because we don't really saw each other physically a lot, but I thought it could be fun to go there with you. We talked a lot already and I feel like I know you, at least a little bit. Don't feel any pressure anyway, I'll understand if you are busy with something else or if you don't want to come so don't worry It's too much isn't it? 😥 You don't have to answer

Ale 💘 🤣 I would love to go with you ❤️

********

You were happy, more than that actually, when Alexia says yes to you. But now you are a mess, looking at yourself in the mirror. You don't like your dress for tonight, you don't like your make up or the way your hair are. You always choose your clothes yourself, but tonight you feel like you only made bad choices.

You want to look great for Alexia, hopping that she doesn't regret to appear at your side for tonight. You warned her that there would be journalists and photographers, but it didn’t seem to bother her. You explained to her from beginning to end the way these evenings go, from A to Z, without omitting the slightest detail. You don't want Alexia to be uncomfortable or embarrassed at any time of the evening.

"You're beautiful" Sofia smiles when she entered the room.

You shrug, still looking at you before sighing. She's your friend, of course she will tell you something like this. Before you can answer anything, someone is knocking at the door again and you let Sofia open the door.

"Hola Alexia. Great to see you here" she smiles, before leaving the room.

Alexia’s presence electrifies you and you turn to face her. You let your eyes wrap around her appearance and you almost need to sit down. She’s amazing, obviously. Is there ever a time when that hasn’t been the case? When your eyes stop on her face, you realize that she is smiling softly and you take a few steps in her direction to greet her properly. You’ve been talking non-stop for weeks now, but this is only the third time you can see her in real life.

Your arms naturally find their place around her neck when she takes you in her arms to greet you. Smiling, you extend your embrace, discreetly breathing her smell.

"I missed you" Alexia whispers in your ear

It makes you shiver and you can’t hide the smile on your face.

"I missed you too" you smile softly as you step back a bit to look at her. "You are really beautiful"

"Speak for yourself" Alexia smiles back.

Neither of you has released the other when your eyes cross and you feel your breath become short when you see that her eyes descend on your lips. It’s been a few days since you’ve wondered what it would be like to kiss Alexia, even before your discussions take a little more intimate turn. A little flirty too. You discovered a funny Alexia that makes you appreciate her even more.

When Alexia’s eyes go up on yours, looking for a form of consent, you just smile at her. No words are needed. Your heart accelerates in anticipation as she leans over you, but the door of the room suddenly opens when your lips are only a few millimeters apart.

"Y/N, we have to… Oh, sorry"

You refrain from insulting your colleague (and friend) on the screen when he enters the room suddenly, making you both jump. But your gaze must speak for you since he addresses you an excuse grimace. He looks at Alexia with curiosity, who now stands awkwardly two feets away from you.

"Alexia, this is John, my co-worker" you mumble. "John, this is Alexia"

"Great to finally meet you" John says with a smile, reaching his hand to Alexia before turning to you. "We have to go, the cars are here"

"We are coming"

He smiles again and leave. You turn yourself to Alexia, who was already looking at you.

"He never knocks on the door before entering?"

She looks annoyed and you bite your lower lip.

"I'm sorry"

"Don't be. It's not your fault."

Your eyes meet and she seems to relax a little. You offer her a hesitant hand, relieved to see that she doesn't hesitate for a second to take it.

"Are you ready to go?"

When Alexia nods, you take her with you to the exit the hotel where you prepared yourself. One of the cars supposed to take you to your destination is waiting for you and you let Alexia in before you.

"Thank you for agreeing to come with me. I imagine you must have your quota of ceremonies like this" you tell her while the car started.

"A little" confesses Alexia, shrugging her shoulders, before smiling. "But it’s for me, next time it’s you who will have to accompany me"

"With great pleasure"

A smile appears on your face and you feel your stomach doing a double-flip at the idea of spending extra time with Alexia. Enjoying the intimacy that the car offers you, you put your head on Alexia’s shoulder which intertwines your fingers to put your hands on her lap.

"After that, you have no more obligations right?" asks Alexia after a few seconds of comfortable silence.

"No more for a whole month" you confirm.

You can’t wait to have time for yourself, to sleep in the morning and just have nothing to do. To be able to stay in Barcelona, in your apartment and see your loved ones.

"Will you have time for me?" asked Alexia in a shy voice.

"Obviously" you smile softly as you look up at her.

"If I offered you a date, would you say yes?"

"I would say yes if you asked me, of course"

Your mischievous smile is seen by Alexia, who smiles back at you. This isn't exactly a officially request, but it goes in your way of operating from the beginning. Teasing, lightness and above all no anticipation of anything. No obligation, just the desire to spend time together. And other than by screen interposed for once.

When you arrive, she puts a kiss on your cheek.

"Time to shine, superstar"

You blush violently, which seems to amuse her a lot. The look of reproaches that you throw at her makes her smile, even if she addresses you a small sentence of apology.

"Sorry. But I find the fact that we’re both in the spotlight when we’re socially awkward rather amusing."

She’s absolutely right, and it’s probably one of your biggest commonalities. But it also allows you to better understand the other and you appreciate that very much.

A few minutes later, you are walking on the red carpet, trying to ignore the flashes of the photographers.

"I’ll have to take pictures" you explain to Alexia in a low voice while waiting for John to finish "Normally we take only a few before taking others with our partner, but we will avoid this point"

You cross Alexia’s eyes and quickly realize that something seems to bother her. You ask her with your eyes and you are once again pleasantly surprised at the simplicity with which she seems to be able to confide in you.

"Don’t you want to be seen with me?"

"Yes, of course. But you…"

"I don’t mind. On the contrary."

After looking in her eyes for a few seconds and realizing that she's telling you the truth, you nod with a shy smile. That wasn’t the reason you invited her, after all, you’re not a couple. But you’re glad she wants to pose with you.

After taking some pictures alone, you invite her to join you by raising your hand to her. She takes it quietly, putting a hand in the hollow of your back. And you need all your concentration to stay focused on what’s going on. You look at her and smile back at her, before looking again at the photographs.

When a few extra flashes have burned your retina, you take her hand again to take her with you in the comfort offered by the cinema.

You stop by several journalists to answer more questions, still without releasing Alexia’s hand. She gives you a reassuring smile every time you turn in her direction and ask her how she feels.

After a while, you finally find your seats in one of the first rows of the cinema. At one point you received a drink and you put it on your armrest to turn towards Alexia.

"Are you okay? I know it can be a lot" you apologize, biting your lip.

"You had warned me. I'm alright, don't worry" gently reminds you a smiling Alexia.

You hum for any answer, letting yourself go against the back of your chair.

"And on top of that, a first date at the cinema isn't so unusual" smiles Alexia.

It makes you laugh and when you look at her, her eyes sparkle with malice. In spite of yourself, you think about the missed kiss in the hotel room and when you see Alexia’s look slip on your lips, you know that she thinks about it too.

You really want to kiss her right now, but the director and the producer are suddenly in front of the crowd to thanks people to be here. You don't really listen to what they say, really aware of Alexia's fingers brushing against your arm.

During the film, you can't stop looking at her to see her reactions. You talked to her about the film, but you didn't give her all the details. You loved seeing her smile, laugh or frown.

"Internet is going crazy" Sofia informs you both when the film is over.

You and Alexia followed the others into the reception room where there are petits fours and countryside. You exchanged a few discussions with several people in the field, making sure to always include Alexia in one way or another. Most of your interlocutors obviously know her, she remains a world famous sportswoman.

"Why?" you ask Sofia naively, gently frowning.

"You show up with one of the best players in the world after being officially single for years. Try again" laughs Sofia rolling her eyes.

"Oh" you just blush slightly.

Alexia smirks at you, before taking a sip of her drink. The idea of being seen with Alexia doesn't bother you, you wouldn't have invited her if it had been the case. But you’ll probably never understand people’s interest in other people’s privacy.

"Do you want to get some fresh air?" Alexia suggests pointing to the balcony with a nod.

You nod and follow her quietly. The fresh air from the outside is nice and the fact that the balcony overlooks an inner courtyard that doesn't show you to the rest of the world is just as nice.

"Are you having a good time?" you ask, looking closely at Alexia.

"Very good yes. It would have been difficult otherwise, I am in very good company after all"

You smile softly at her and give yourself control by finishing the glass that you held until now in your hand.

"Can I ask you something?" asked Alexia shortly afterwards.

"Of course" you answer by looking at her curiously.

"Sofia said you were officially single for years"

"Yes?"

"What does she mean by officially? Did you have someone hiding or something like that?"

"Oh... No, not at all. I was really focused on my career and it's always hard to manage a relationship when you are always everywhere in the world"

You shrug, but can't escape the inquisitive looks Alexia sends you.

"So... Hooks up?"

You widen your eyes before shaking your head negatively.

"No. It's not... I mean I'm not into this kind of things" you begin before stopping and looking at Alexia hesitantly "You're going to think I'm weird or something"

"I promise I'm not" Alexia smiles, grabbing your hand.

"I had someone but the distance was hard and we just fall apart. I haven't been with someone since" you mumble, blushing once again. "I... For me, sex and love are coming together"

Alexia is still smiling but you only have to look in her eyes to learn that she's not making fun of you.

"You are the sweetest girl in the world."

You roll your eyes and feel your body shiver when she put a strand of hair behind your ear. Taking advantage that you are alone, you press your face on her hand and gently kiss her wrist. You lost yourself in her eyes once again, studying at length each of Alexia’s facial features. She leans again in your direction and her breath caresses your lips when you hear John’s voice sound behind you again.

"What?!" you snap, turning in his direction.

"I… uh. The producer was looking for you, he wanted to introduce you to a friend of his" "I’m coming" you sigh with annoyance

You don’t listen to his stuttering excuses, preferring to take a deep breath to calm down. Why does the whole world seem determined to stop you from exchanging your first kiss with Alexia?

"I better go" you sigh softly as you turn towards the door.

But, before you can make the slightest step, you feel Alexia’s hand grab your arm and draw you against her. Your eyes cross for a few seconds before her lips are on yours. Her lips blend perfectly with yours and you step on your toes to prolong the kiss. Your arms wrap around her neck and head, trying to be as close to her as possible.

Her hands slide on your back and her whole smell fills you. She's everywhere and you don't know if it's that or the lack of oxygen, but you feel yourself like floating.

"Now you can go if you want" Alexia mumble against your lips, as breathless as you are.

"I'm not sure if I want to" you admit, slightly blushing.

"Do you want to go home?"

Alexia only lets half a second pass before adding something to what she just said, as if she had just realized something.

"I mean… not going back, but you know… I mean, we didn’t really spend time just physically. Well, physically, I mean in front of each other not…"

"Alexia, stop" you smile softly, putting an end to Alexia’s agony.

She seems to be grateful to you because she takes her breath while looking at you, although dancing nervously from one foot to the other.

"Sorry, it was weird" Alexia rolls her eyes.

"It reassures me a little, little things you were out of the socialy awkward category" you smile maliciously before adding "Let's go home."

[mysunshinetemptress]

Your Royal Support

Leah Williamson x Royal!Reader

Warnings: none fluff talks of Leah’s ACL recovery

Disclaimer: for the purposes of this story actual timelines have not been taken into account I.e Princess Diana and Prince Charles separation.

You hadn’t had to dress in your dress uniform since June when you attend the Royal Garter, but here you where fixing your sash again out of nerves you looked in the mirror before looking at the sleeping form of you fiancé in bed. Leah and her family had travelled to Windsor yesterday to watch the 26 year old footballer accept her OBE and unlike the other recipients of the awards taking place this morning they all slept at Windsor castle, you where happy to sleep in a hotel but your father had insisted on it stating family stay with family when they visit not in a hotel and it wasn’t like the castle couldn’t accommodate them.

Leah stirred slightly as you turned holding your aiguillette in order to stop them from banging together and creating noise wanting the younger girl to sleep a bit longer knowing today was going to be long. You walked towards the bed and leaning down you kissed her head “I’ll see you shortly my love.” Watching her a moment longer you left knowing your Equerry James was standing waiting to give you the rundown of the day.

You had attended a few meetings before the ceremony regarding the statement that would be made at the end of the month regarding your engagement to Leah, you refused to make any decisions without her input stating that whatever information you received would be relayed back to her. You had left that meeting to a flurry of texts from Leah and Amanda, both looking for you in a form of panic as Leah grew more nervous of this afternoon’s ceremony. You called Leah immediately and you could have sworn the ringtone hadn’t even sounded before she answered “hello my love.” Leah sighed hearing your voice “everything ok.” Leah shook her head before realising you couldn’t see her “I don’t think I can do this Y/n.” You looked around the corridor of the castle before walking down towards the left and stopping when you came across the window you where looking for peering out of it you could see into the apartment you had left this morning now though you could see Leah pacing the room with Amanda sat on the couch both dressed. You smiled before beginning to talk again “your already halfway through Le.” Leah shook her head “that doesn’t make sense Y/n the ceremony isn’t for another hour and a half I’m not even close to being half way done.” You smiled once again watching Amanda try to get Leah to sit “your already dressed, your hair is done and although I tell you every morning you don’t need it you have makeup on although on a day like today I understand so you are already ready for the ceremony waiting for it to happen after those two it only has to happen and then we go out later, that’s four things on a check list two completed two to go your halfway done.” Leah sighed again “you always know what to say.” You laughed “if I didn’t by now then you should reevaluate our relationship it’s my job to know you.” Leah smiled before stopping “wait can you see me.” You laughed again watching Amanda and Leah look around the room trying to figure out where you could see them “I told you, you call, you ever need me in moments you feel like no one can see you I can, I see you.” Leah turned looking out the window before spotting you waving at her “oh I love you.” You laughed nodding along “I know but I loved you first.” Leah laughed at the statement you made every time she told you she loved you, you had said you had fallen in love with her when you where on a royal engagement with your older brothers to the Arsenal academy as a kid. You had never publicly had a relationship until her and even then it was rather private stating you had known from the moment your hands touched you knew there was nobody else and even stated you didn’t mind waiting as she dated other people because you knew it was going to be you who she loved last. You smiled at her once more before talking again “I better go I have a meeting with Will about you know what, see you shortly darling.” Leah blew you a kiss before hanging up and turning to her mum who had been watching the interaction.

You stood down the hall waiting for the Williamson family to arrive fixing you uniform nervously before your head shot up at the sound of a wolf whistle, you couldn’t help you face become hot at the sight of Leah walking at a fast pass in order to reach you “I love it when you wear your uniform, your keeping that on all day.” You smiled nodding “sort of have to but I can take the jacket off when we start dancing later thank god.” Leah smiled before placing her hands either side of you cheeks pulling you into a kiss “I’m so proud of you.” Now it was Leah’s turn to blush “seriously Le I am and I worry I never tell you enough but I’m proud of you for one everything you have accomplished in your football career, two for how high you have held your head through these difficult months but mostly I’m proud of you I’m proud of you knowing who you are, never forgetting where you came from while you look forward to where you want to go in the future for understanding you have a voice and using it not just when the public see, I’m proud of all the time you have been in so much pain and admitted to it, whether it is your acl or your endometriosis I’m proud of you not letting anything or anyone define you and I’m proud to be your fiancé I will tell you that I love you how much I have always loved you till I can no longer speak but I need you to know I’m also just as proud of you, thank you for loving me, allowing me to love you, for taking on the crazy that I and my family are and the burden our status brings, for being there when I need you for collecting me and all the baggage but thank you mostly for your support I hope I have supported you as much as you have and will always need because you are always there for me.” Leah melted into your arms “don’t make me cry before I have to go stand in-front of your brother and then the press.” You kissed the top of her head chuckling slightly “but you have and I know how proud and loved I am from you I never understood what love was or how we are meant to only be in love with one person for the rest of our lives until I met you y/n now I don’t want anyone else to be there holding my hand in the hard times and making me smile as hard as I do in the good ones I know trust me I do.” You pulled her into a kiss once more before separating to hold her hand as her grandfather cleared his throat to gain your attention “well are you kids ready.” You nodded pulling Leah into you before turning to the door nodding to the hand stating you where ready when they were.

You stood beside Amanda holding her as Leah stepped forward to receive the award looking at you briefly at something William had said before smiling. “I can’t wait till you both get married.” You smiled at Amanda “any idea where it’s going to be yet.” You shook your head slightly “no not at all Papa has said we could use Westminster Abby, that holds roughly 2000 people but I don’t know it’s already getting televised that’s more people seeing our relationship than either her or I want if I’m being honest, he has also said we could get married here at St George’s chapel like Harry and my cousin but if I’m being honest I would marry her in a registry office with you guys as witnesses but I’m not allowed.” Amanda smiled squeezing your arm “I know your role is hard that there are so many eyes looking at you constantly wishing you harm, but she has told me that for you she would stand in front of them all and protect you no matter what, I worried about her being with you I’m ashamed to say but I did your mother died after marrying into your family, your sisters in law have been torn from limb to limb in the media, as a mother you want to protect your child and that’s all I want for her happiness and protected and for a while I didn’t see you being able to protect her, but then you drove through the night after she got a concussion and you postponed meetings and appearances when she did her ankle and you sat and held her so tight yet so gently when the doctors told her she had endometriosis and you promised her and I you would find the best doctors to look after her should she ever need it, but recently you have shown me your in it for the long run with her acl injury that you would do anything to protect and support her through her worst and best and I feel so much more at peace, it’s you and her until the stars come calling and you really have shown us all that.” You pulled Amanda into a hug feeling yourself tear up. “Thank you.” Amanda laughed lightly “I should be thanking you.” You shook your head “ thank you for being the mum I always needed.” At this Amanda hugged you tighter.

William stood talking to Leah before they both turned to see you talking to Amanda “you know she never knew our mum not really anyway she was to young when she died but she is so like her in the way she loves.” Leah looked at him confused “my mum had a good heart when she fell in love with something she fell hard and she did everything she could to express it whether that be speaking about charity’s or loving her kids. Y/n loves you wholeheartedly and that is the best trait my mother could have passed down to her.” Leah smiled at him looking at you and Amanda hugging “I hope she knows I love her just as much.” William smiled “she does trust me.” William presented Leah with her badge before pulling her into a hug “and we can’t wait for you to join the family.” Leah smiled one last time before stepping back bowing slightly and walking over to you and her family. You stepped back allowing the Williamson’s to grab Leah first a habit she didn’t always appreciate but she understood before you scooped her up into a hug “my girls an OBE.” Leah laughed “I can do you one better my girls a literal princess.” You laughed grabbing her hand waving to your brother before exiting the room and into a private quarter where you couldn’t help but grab her and kiss her not caring who was watching.

“I love you.” Leah smiled into the kiss “I loved you first.” You smiled back before grabbing her into another kiss

[cupcakeslushie]

Hi as a Donnie fictive i just wanted to say that your abusive Kendratello AU thing is actually the worst thing I've ever seen in my entire life and it makes me feel something visceral and awful down in my very core. There is nothing good about it, even from an angsty standpoint. Thank you for putting it all over the Kendratello tag when i'm just trying to look at cute, creative stuff. That's really awesome.

It is genuinely my least favorite piece of Rise fan content and probably the worst Kendra characterization done by anyone ever. Obviously i'm not telling you to shut it all down, it's your internet corner, do whatever you want with it, but i just had to tell you how much i hate this because it genuinely makes me feel insane.

What makes a person want to create shit like this? It's giving angst for no reason or purpose other than to have angst. It sucks. Fat ass and nuts. Have a blessed day.

Lol this is the funniest thing ever. Can you just imagine being such a stubborn idiot, you put yourself through seeing something you hate over and over and over? Telling yourself there’s no way you could possible escape it, when the block function exists? I certainly can’t imagine being that thick.

I just imagine this child sobbing over their computer, like not knowing how to get away from my shitty AU, so they instead think the best option is to, what? Bully me into stopping? Like I would care about their opinion enough to be like shamed into stopping? What was the point of this ask??? 😂😂😂. What did you think you would accomplish, besides looking like a moron, pitching a fit, that even my little two year old nephew would be embarrassed by. I’m fascinated.

I know there’s no cure for stubborn idiots, but I’ll offer some advice, since you can’t seem to understand how the internet works. Block the tag “kendratello au”, which I put on all of my posts regarding this AU. Or even better, block me completely, cause you irritating. You’ll never have to see your “least favorite Rise fan content” ever again.

Have a shitty day ✌️