#although this partially applies to me

[radioactive-worm-on-string]

All I’m saying is that it’s tragic how very intelligent students are forced to drop out and made feel stupid because some professors feel the need to make their courses so intense that one needs to study 50-60 hours a week, while they just need rest to function, but would have no problem understanding the material if they just had to study 40 hours a week, the actual fucking guidelines for what full-time studies should be.

[animelovelover123]

DMC Boys x Reader – Taking Your Virginity Headcanons

Parings: Dante, Reboot Dante, Vergil, Reboot Vergil, Nero, V x Reader

Synopsis/Author's Note: Headcanons for how the Devil May Cry boys would treat you if you were to offer them your first time.

Disclaimer: Some of these stories have moments that should not be replicated. Not all of these guys handle the situation the best and, if applied to real life, it can result in some hurt feelings, anger, and/or sadness. You all be safe, use your wits and gut feelings out there when you have your first time/give someone their first time.

Science Fact I Learned For This: A girl's hymen is NOT some wall/barrier that is broken through. It is a tissue that naturally has a hole in it big enough to let menstrual blood through. The whole idea of it hurting and/or bleeding the first time a girl has penetrative sex is because it may not be used to being stretched that far and can tear, not because it is punctured/broken through. There are, of course, exceptions to this but this is the general idea. Some people may have known this but in case you didn’t, you just learned something today like me! ^^

Dante

His reaction and treatment will change a bit depending on his age (aka what game time you are in) but many things will be consistent.

He always understands how much trust and courage it takes to give someone your first time and it means a lot to him that you want to choose him.

Whether he is in his late teens and gives you a shocked expression then a giddy smile as he says “Wait, really? Thanks! I’ll be sure to give you the time of your life.” or in his early 40s where he pauses for a moment to process before giving you a patient and gentle smile, saying “Of course, I’d be honoured to.”, he appreciates the gesture and does not take it for granted. Although, the older he is the more touched he is that you wanted to do this with him of all people.

This is not to say he isn’t going to make jokes and be silly about it. He takes the moment with all due respect, but he can’t help cracking jokes as that is just who he is. Secretly though, he is also trying to get you to lighten up about the idea. He knows how stressful losing your virginity can be, hell he went through it himself, and he hoped that by making light of it he could offer some levity to what he knows is going to inevitably be an awkward and uncomfortable time. If you can laugh at the mishaps instead of curling up and dying a bit inside, then his jokes have done their job.

Though not all of his jokes will land and may seem a bit insensitive at times, know that he is never laughing at you or mocking you, just trying to make you smile and relax.

When the night comes, he does what he can to make you feel secure. He locks all the doors and unplugs the phone to avoid interruptions. He offers you food and a bath before you start, and takes a shower himself. He makes preparations, like getting water, condoms, and lube, and lays them out so that you can see them and feel secure by their presence. And he will have a conversation with you beforehand.

If you try to fight the conversation, he will dip into his hardly ever used mature-adult mode.

“Hey now, no hiding from this babe.” Dante chuckles lightly as he gently pulls the pillow away from your face. “I know it’s embarrassing but we gotta talk about this, at least this first time, okay?”

He needs to make some things clear, define boundaries, and try to explain what to expect. He continues to throw in jokes to lighten the mood or will otherwise smile at you sympathetically, inwardly finding your bashfulness endearing.

He takes things nice and slow, verbally asking for consent and telling you what he intends to do so as to not catch you off guard.

He also takes into account what makes you feel secure. For example, do you feel better being covered by his body, whether he kneels over you or partially lays on you? Does the pressure and closeness calm you? Then he will do that. Or, alternatively, would that freak you out and make you feel trapped? If so then he will stay sitting up or lying beside you to give you space and so you see that you can escape if you want, not that he was holding you there, but it is an unconscious thing.

If your hymen does end up tearing it is not quite as panic-inducing as it could be thanks to Dante warning you beforehand that you might feel pain and that he stays calm, acting as an anchor while you settle from the sting.

He will stop. Not pulling out or pushing forward, just sit inside you and coddle you until you are ready. And if you have any questions like “What happened?”, “Am I going to be okay?”, and “Why does it hurt so much?”, he will patiently answer them with little to no jokes as he knows this is probably the most emotionally and physically intense part of a woman losing her virginity.

If at any point you panic and tell him that you want to stop, he will stop but not retreat. He will hold his position for a moment, let you breathe, and then ask how you are feeling. Do you really want to stop, because he will, or are you just anxious? After dating you for a while, he has gotten really damn good at knowing when you are overwhelmed and just need a break.

If you do truly want to stop though, or are generally not enjoying yourself, he will stop. He won't be upset or take it personally. He knows losing your v-card is a lot to handle and sometimes, no matter how sexy and skilled your partner may be, you may just not be into it. He can relate. He will even tell you of some of his sexual misadventures if he thinks it will make you laugh.

Either way, he will want to push aside any negative emotions you are feeling as soon as possible and bring back your smile. And maybe tomorrow you two can talk about what you didn’t like and how to make things better for you in the future.

He finds you and your flustered reactions adorable. He has done this dance quite a few times and some of the sweet intimacy feelings have faded over the years, but seeing you get bashful or excited warms his heart.

And when, if everything goes well, you do cum, Dante just wants to watch you flex, twist, moan, and enjoy your first orgasm.

He isn’t picky about whether he finishes this first time around or not. He will try of course so you can feel the full extent of his desire for you. But if you are completely tuckered out, he can settle without, and maybe even make a joke about it.

As you drift down from your high Dante lays beside you with an at-peace smile, playing with your hair, basking in your happiness.

Once you are down on earth again though he is back to his talkative self. Mostly making jokes and asking if you’re hungry.

“How about we order pizza, turn on some trash TV, and cuddle the night away.”

He does not ask how he did as your clear pleasure was plenty enough for him to know he was treating you well. If you do take the time to praise or thank him though, you’ll get to see a softer version of his proud smile paired with a rare blush as he thanks you in return.

Reboot Dante

It depends if you are a random person he met at a club or his partner.

If you are random and you tell him you have never had sex before, he will want to back out. Not because he finds that gross or a turn-off, it’s more so that he himself regrets how he had his first time and doesn’t want someone else’s to be like this.

Dante probably had his first sexual experience far younger than he should have, like 13-14 yours old, with an older woman, out of a desire to act older than he actually was, his street kid lifestyle, and fuck-authority mindset. As an adult, and as he gains more stable and healthy relationships through Kat and Vergil, he is starting to realize how that negatively affects him.

He does not fully understand how it messed with him, he isn’t emotionally mature enough for that yet, but he does know that he doesn’t really want to ruin someone else’s first time if he can help it.

He can’t really articulate this though, still too attached to some toxic masculine pride traits and the aforementioned lack of emotional maturity, so he will say some things like “You sure? Don’t you want to pop your cherry with someone you love or some shit like that?”

If you are his partner, he will think the same thing but probably won’t say it out loud.

Either way, he is going to have a tough time. He knows he should be slower, gentler, and comforting but that’s not really his style, so he is out of his element.

If he has advance warning, as in you are his partner and told him at some point that you were a virgin, and the time grows close, he will awkwardly go to Kat for advice. And, if he really loved you (and he was a bit drunk), he may just work up the nerve to ask his brother how to be a gentleman for you.

No matter what though, he is kind of awkward about it.

He doesn’t want to make a big deal out of it because that is stupid, cheesy, and would put more pressure on you both to perform well. This helps in the beginning, making it so the lead-up of kisses, gropes, and rubbings are casual and playful.

As soon as you start to grow nervous and hesitant though, the switch is flipped and Dante is not the same. He will do his damnedest to keep up the cool and confident aura on the outside, but the nerves on the inside will leak out eventually.

He spends the whole time flipping between holding himself back, worrying about how he is doing, and agitation. He is so strung up that he honestly cannot really enjoy it, especially not in a sexually satisfying way. But he at least understands that this is not about him or his pleasure.

This first time, and probably the next handful of goes, it is about you. That does not stop him from jerking off later to get it out of his system and to make sure he doesn’t lose control on you.

He does, however, gain some satisfaction if you are able to enjoy yourself. Even if he is not able to be sexually gratified due to preferring rougher sex and not being able to have that with you this first time, to see you cum and be overall pleased by the end makes it worth all the struggle he went through.

On the other hand, if you are dissatisfied or request to stop in the middle, he is upset. He isn’t angry with you, he is angry at himself for fucking up so bad, though he can’t communicate this properly in the moment so it may come off badly.

If things go that wrong, he may just want to split up for the night.

If you are someone he just met that night at a club, he will send you home. He won’t be a total ass and just kick you out. He will at least walk you home or somewhere where you can make the rest of the trip yourself/with friends safely, but he can’t stand the awkwardness and emotions of having you stay the night after that.

If you are his partner, he will suggest that he just leave, even if you are at his place/in his room. You can convince him to stay, though he doesn’t have the heart to simply cuddle after he, as far as he is concerned, ruined things, so you would have to do something else like watch a movie to get your minds off of it.

If applicable, you can try to assure him all you want that he did nothing wrong and it was your own nerves/insecurities, and Dante may say he understands, but it is easy to tell that he 100% blames himself.

This guilt is even worse if your hymen ends up tearing because holly shit. He knows it can happen to some women, but he is not properly educated on this stuff and he has never seen it. To him, a bit of blood, even during sex, was not unheard of and never really bothered him. But if you start to cry, scream, and/or panic, he freaks out. He pulls out of you right away and starts asking what's wrong, even if somewhere in his racing mind he knows what is wrong. You can convince him to continue but he is rattled after that.

Post sex, assuming everything went well, he will be on edge. He is used to long nights of multiple rounds of foreplay and sex, sometimes with multiple people. So, going just one round, which possibly didn’t bring him to orgasm, at least not a fully satisfying one, left him with a lot of pent-up energy.

Depending on how wound up he is, he may try to gently encourage you to keep going by lavishing your neck in kisses, licks, and little bites, and grinding against you. But if you make it clear that you are done, he will back off.

He will cuddle you until you fall asleep, then probably slip off to a shower to finish himself. He will come back though and fall asleep wrapped around you, finding himself oddly satisfied. Not sexually satisfied, nor satisfied in the idea that he got to take a virgin. Instead, it was a satisfaction in making you happy for your first time, something he secretly wishes he was with his own, and you having chosen to share it with him.

Vergil

Vergil is maybe not be the best pick to have your first time with. He is proud, straightforward, and is also lacking in tact. This can make him come off as cold, unsympathetic, or even cruel.

He does care about you and does not want to hurt you, physically or emotionally, but he can’t communicate this well and his usual way of telling people there is no need to worry is by asserting that they are foolish and are wasting their breath on needless indecision.

This is first seen when you let slip that you are a virgin. He blatantly asks why you are telling him this.

“I care for you; you care for me. At some point we may consummate our bond through physical means. What does it matter how much experience either of us have in such things?”

If he were to articulate his thoughts and feelings better, he would further explain that he does not see sex as anything that special or as a requirement in a relationship. It is simply another, more primal and physically gratifying, way to express affection and trust. And to eventually create spawn but that comes further down the line.

He may need to have someone, whether it be you or his brother or even a mutual acquaintance like Lady, explain to him how emotionally taxing it can be for someone to have their first time. He will take note of it and be more conscious of your possibly complicated emotions on this, but his actions won’t really change.

He does not press you for it; he just waits until the moment feels right and then whisks you away to his bedroom.

If you show hesitation, he will push you to make up your mind. Again, he is not intending to make you feel pressured or like he does not care. He wants you to make a decision and follow through with it.

Do you want to stop here? Then say so clearly so you both do not waste time fanning the flames of passion just to snuff them out at their hottest moment and regret it after.

Do you want this now? Do you want him now? Then take him. Don’t concern yourself with the trivial restrictions of human societal limitation or personal doubt on how one of your gender, situation, or age should act. Grab hold of the moment by the reins, charge forward, and take what you both desire.

Vergil is not overly gentle with you, even if it is your first time. What point is there in treating you like you are made of glass when it will not properly prepare you for truly passionate lovemaking?

Besides, considering he has inhuman speed and power, can transform into a demon, and has an innate desire to breed, he is showing restraint.

If you start to panic and ask him to wait, that it’s too much, slow down, or something to that extent he will scoff. He’ll assert that you are fine and that there is no need to worry. Despite his verbal dismissal, he will stop or slow down as you requested and give you space to adjust.

If he does end up tearing your hymen, he is considerate enough to stop for a moment but will soon get back into it. In his mind, if you dwell on the pain it will only make it worse.

Besides, he believes you to be an intelligent woman so you should be well aware of what dangers lie in being penetrated for the first time. If you don’t, well you are more naïve than he thought.

Similarly to before though, despite what he says he will indeed halt his movements if you believe it would be better or you fall into distress. And while you come to terms with the pain, he reassures you of your strength in ways that may seem a bit harsh, but he means it to be motivating.

“This hurdle is nothing you can’t handle.”

“Do not falter at this small inconvenience.”

“This pain you feel is nothing in comparison to what you have conquered before.”

And when you do push past this, his lips quirk up into a proud smile. He does not praise you out loud though. Instead, he rewards you by lavishing attention on one of your multiple sensitive spots he has already identified and memorized for later use.

He will finish. It doesn’t matter if it is alongside you or if he has to keep pistoning into you while you tremble and whimper in overstimulation.

He claims that it is the price to pay when you have relations with someone. If either participant is left unsatisfied then it is a failure on both ends, the satisfied being a dishonourable thief and the unsatisfied being too weak to fight for what is owed to them.

Secretly though, Vergil was also quickly getting hooked on the sensation of you clinging to him, inside and out, and so he could not stop himself.

If he senses any dissatisfaction from you, he takes it as a personal insult. He will dive back in, no matter your flustered reaction or lack of energy. His ability to pleasure you shall not be questioned so if it takes an hour of pounding into you or burying his face into your core then so be it. Neither of you will rest until you are completely satisfied or your mind and body are numb from pleasure.

When all is said and done, he is quiet. It may seem like he is unhappy or uninterested, but in reality, his mind and body are still buzzing and he is struggling more than he ever has in his life to relax and focus.

Once he does find some clarity he gets up without a word and lifts you into his arms. He is able to hide how weak his legs are at the moment as he carries you to the bath so you may cleanse yourself and relax your muscles in the hot water.

He has no intention of joining you as he would rather address the inconvenient consequences of lovemaking. Condoms need to be thrown away or packed up. The bed sheets need to be removed and thrown in the wash, and then new ones dug out to replace them. Sleeping attire needed to be gathered.

He explains this to you matter-of-factly. But if you look up at him with those pleading, hopeful, beautiful eyes and ask him to stay, he can’t find it in himself to refuse you.

Reboot Vergil

When you first tell him you are a virgin as he briskly types away at his laptop, he initially responds with the same level of interest as if you just told him your favourite colour. Firstly, he is busy with work, as he always is. Secondly, being around Dante has desensitized Vergil so much that any mention of sex and its many facets would pass through his head like a gentle breeze while he keeps his focus on what he is doing.

It could take minutes, it could take hours, but eventually it will click. It hits Vergil like a truck when he realizes what you, his girlfriend, were trying to insinuate when you told him you were a virgin.

He feels stupid.

He feels excited.

And he feels a rush of pride and superiority at the implication that you want him to take your virginity. Out of all the people you have met before, or would ever meet, it was he who won your heart and would be gifted the treasure of taking your innocence.

He casually and calmly brings up the topic again the next time he sees you just to clarify. And when you do, his heart is sent racing while his mind starts formulating the perfect plan.

Thoughts of you quickly take over his mind. He can still focus on work when he needs to, but if he finds himself stuck with a particularly tedious or uninvolved task, such as watching security footage or waiting for his specially made virus to copy and send him all of the data in a company’s database, his mind wanders. And though his thoughts had occasionally drifted to you before, now that he knows what is to come in your relationship, you are all he can think about. This results in him planning a date for your first time together rather than letting it happen naturally.

He will make an event out of it. You two will spend the whole day together, or longer if he has the free time to whisk you away to a vacation, where he gives you his undivided attention and affection. And at the end of the day, he will take you to a luxury suit he booked both because he wanted to keep the dreamlike feeling of the day going and because he did not want to spoil your first time by having you somewhere dark, cold, and crawling with people demanding his attention like The Order headquarters.

He won't throw you down on the bed the moment you step through the door though, no. He will want to spend some time lounging in the suit with you, maybe drinking a bit, eating, talking, all with soft music playing from somewhere. And sprinkled throughout will be tantalizing touches and eye contact to build anticipation.

You two could be talking on the couch and his hand will slide onto your leg, hold still or give a couple of squeezes until he knows you have noticed, then run up and down your leg. Maybe he’ll pull you into a slow dance where you are either forced to look at one another, faces so close your warm breaths mingle together, or you are pressed together so close that you can feel each other's heartbeats. Or he will simply watch you lovingly, not saying a word, until you notice his lack of response and turn to him. He’ll hold your gaze for an agonizing few seconds, then his smile will twist into a grin, his tongue will peak out to lick at his lips as he looks down at yours, or he will bite his bottom lip while raking his eyes over your body. Then he’ll suddenly return to the conversation like nothing happened while secretly reveling in how frazzled he made you without speaking a word or touching you.

He will give you, through just trying to have a good time and directly offering, alcohol and medication beforehand. Nothing that could impair you, only enough to dull the possible pain. He will respect your decision if you decline, but he will have still bought numbing lubricant.

When it comes to actually doing it, he is more of a sensual lover so he is used to a slower and gentler experience.

He is intent on being in control, as he always wants to be, so he will insist that you don’t have to do anything but lay back and enjoy yourself while he takes care of everything.

For example, he will gracefully peel away your clothes and soon after strip himself for you so that you can both bear yourself to each other without any more barriers. This way he can: feel the trust you have in him, and he can show you that it is well placed; enjoy the slow, tantalizing reveal of your body; and get to feel the boost of pride at how you marvel at his body, which you have not yet seen due to his inclination to wear full pants and his coat or long sleeve shirts.

If you start to fuss for whatever reason he will hush and shush you in that gentle, soothing way. With a hand lightly caressing your face, an expression of mature reassurance, and voice in a soft whisper, he’ll say things like “shh, it's alright. I’ve got you; I won't let anything bad happen to you as long as you are here in my arms” and “hush darling, none of that self-doubt, you are doing perfectly”.

This is also his approach to if your hymen tears. The pain will be less severe due to one, or multiple, of the ways he has numbed you and that area, but he knows there is always a chance that the pain will be too great to fully abolish. So as you cry he will hold you, caress you, and assure you that you are fine. Nothing is wrong, this is natural, and that it will be well worth it. You just have to trust in him and his promise to take care of you.

If you demand to stop or are unsatisfied somehow, he will pointedly ask you what he did wrong. He will keep up a calm, patient, in-control demeanour as he fishes for information and reasons, but on the inside he is furious.

He had worked so hard, done so much research, meticulously guided the experience, and yet you are unhappy? Where did he go wrong? Why is he such a failure to the one woman he truly loves? Of all the ways he could have screwed up in his life, this was the most precious and delicate of moments and by ruining it he may have left a permanent scar in your relationship. It is a guilt and self-anger that will hang over him for years. Perhaps even to the end of his days.

Assuming everything goes perfectly, as he is sure it will, he has a plan for after everything is done. He will whisk you away to a bath, or the private hot tub he made sure came with the suit he booked, and feed you food and drinks to lavish you in luxury.

And he will still do that if you want. But when the moment finally comes and you are snuggled up against his heaving chest, hair tousled, clinging to him, eyes closed in exhaustion, and expression that of a gentle, pleased, and at peace smile… all of his plans and train of thought disappear. All he sees, and all he needs, in this moment is to hold you.

Nero

You being a virgin was both a good and bad thing.

On the positive side, Nero felt honoured that you are considering giving your virginity to him and it makes him more secure in telling you that he will be giving you the same.

The bad part is that neither of you knew what the hell you were doing or how to go about things. And in a town run by an old-fashioned religious group that implored their people to wear hoods and full-length clothes, you can bet that they are not about premarital sex so there were not exactly resources on teaching this sort of thing to people his age. Even Nero’s family (as far as he knew pre-DMC4) couldn’t really help since the only ones left were his brother and sister who had not done anything of the sort themselves.

Thank Sparda they were at least willing to help a little. They were both unsure about the idea, being super committed to their religion. Credo in particular would pull Nero aside and try to dissuade him, but he knew that his little brother was a spitfire who would not listen and did not follow the Order’s morals as closely as he wished he did.

Both Kyrie and Credo, knowing that this was going to happen eventually no matter what, did at least go out of their way to covertly gather materials like condoms, lubricant, and maybe some debaucherous books that had been confiscated by the Order as that was the closest to experience any of them could get.

Nero is impatient in getting to experience this with you. He was a healthy young man and he could not help his urges. He had the self-control to not push you into doing things you were not comfortable with, but that did not mean he didn’t push you a bit.

It wasn’t like he was trying to convince you or badger you into it, it was more so that he got ahead of himself sometimes. It’s just that when he would have you close, he couldn’t help but notice how pretty you were. You fit in his arms so perfectly. You were so warm, so soft, so squeezable.

Often, he wouldn’t even realize what he was doing.

“What? Oh, sorry. My bad.” He says with a flustered look as he yanks his hand back after you pull away from the kiss to tell him he was grabbing your butt in a public park.

These urges would not stop when you left. Though he would never tell you, out of embarrassment and a sense of guilt for doing it, but he masturbated to thoughts of you regularly. It began before you two even started dating and were in the bashful flirting stage. He didn’t even mean for it to happen the first few times. He tried to keep you out of his thoughts in those moments out of respect but when he was lost in the moment, his mind foggy and his mental filter was down, while searching his mind for thoughts that could energize him to chase that finish line you inevitable popped up, and that’s often what got him. And this habit only increased the closer you two got and the more he had to wait to have you.

When the moment finally came, you two got to have the house to yourselves for the night and you were giving those signs, Nero was almost too excited. His heart was beating faster than normal and his hands were a bit clammy the whole time in anticipation.

He does his best to act confident and in control, as is his usual MO, but you can occasionally catch slipups where he fumbles and curses a bit under his breath. His excitement also gets the better of him sometimes where he suddenly and unconsciously goes a bit faster or a bit rougher than maybe he should. He will stop and slow down if you ask, but it will definitely happen a few times. He can’t help it, he is just so happy, so excited, and you feel so damn good.

There is a good chance that he will tear your hymen in all of his excitement.

Nero is a bit lost in the sensation of finally feeling you surround him that he does not fully register you’re discomfort until you start telling him to stop.

“Fuck. What is it?” Nero grumbles as he feels you trying to push him away. His shallow thrusts stutter to a stop and he fights to hold his position, a primal part of him demanding that he keep grinding into you.

“It hurts.” The moment you say that Nero pops up onto outstretched arms.

“What?” When he sees the distress in your expression and pulls out enough to see blood coming from you, he starts to panic. “Holy shit, what happened? Are you okay? Fuck, shit, wait.”

His panicking causes you to panic which makes him more panicked and this spirals. He pulls out fully and tries to assure you that “I can fix this, just relax”, but that’s an impossibility at this point. He does not understand what is happening or how to deal with it. He races to grab you a towel and maybe pain medication? A hot water bottle? What does he do?

In the end, he calls Kyrie for help. She doesn’t really know much more than you two about sex but she is able to stay calm and relax you two enough to talk about things and maybe call a doctor. She will even take the bullet and call the doctor herself claiming she is the one who tried to have sex just to save you the embarrassment if you can’t bring yourself to do it.

In short, it is an absolute mess and makes things awkward between you two for a bit. He will avoid getting too touchy or intimate with you for a little bit out of guilt. You can even catch him mumbling apologies at seemingly random times because he thinks back to what he did and feels the need to.

When you two do finally have a proper, satisfying experience, whether it be after getting over the first mishap or if the first time went well because your hymen was already open enough for him, Nero feels a sense of giddiness.

He was not used to this post-coital bliss, instead often having post-nut clarity and maybe feeling a bit bad about it, so it kind of catches him off guard. He curls around you and nuzzles into your hair with a pleased smile. He peppers you with occasional kisses, tells you how good it felt, and asks you if you liked it too.

He is awash with renewed energy and can't seem to settle down. He will need something to calm down like a bath, food, music, or even a little game. And the whole time he can’t keep his hands off of you. Not so much for sexual reasons, though there was a tiny bit of that, but just out of the need to be close in this moment and show you affection.

And when you two do finally fall asleep, you are unable to escape his vine like embrace until the next morning.

V

V can, and will, play the long game with you. That is to say, he will spend weeks, possibly months, preparing you for the main course.

When you tell him you are a virgin and hint, through words or actions, that you are considering having your first time with him, his plan is set into motion.

He has no intention of simply waiting for the right time and then trying to take you all the way in one go. Instead, he builds up to it over multiple days.

He will start with kissing you a bit longer than the usual pecks or goodnight kisses you are used to. Once you get comfortable with that, will move to the next step.

He won't simply release you after a kiss, instead encouraging you to give him 1, 2, or however many you are willing to, more. As you pull away, he will chase your lips or gently pull you back to him by cupping your cheek or threading his fingers through your hair to hold your head. Once you are receptive to that he will proceed to the next step.

As you two kiss, or even just hold each other with the right mood set, V’s usually stationary hands start to wander. At first, he’ll avoid your more private areas and stick to rubbing your back, shoulders, and arms. Then he will start caressing them. Then he will move to more sensitive areas, like your legs, hips, and neck. Then, he will start gliding his hand over your rear, chest, and lower stomach just above the most sacred of areas. He may even try to hold his hand there if you will let him. He won't grope and grab, just hold and maybe caress those spots to let you grow comfortable with him touching you there. And once you are comfortable with that, he will take things further.

So on and so forth. And between every attempt and step, there is a break of hours, a day, or more.

He knows that committing to something like making love for the first time can be overwhelming with all of the new experiences, sensations, and emotions that come with it. So, instead of compressing all of it into an evening, he will separate these to make the ascension into full-blown passion as unjarring and natural as possible.

Even when you two do get into a bed and start touching under your clothes, V still takes things agonizingly slowly.

The first time you cum because of him had you sitting in his lap with your clothes still on and his hands down your pants. With one arm supporting your back to keep you in a semi-laying position while he held you up, and his face pressed into your hair, so you are not embarrassed by his staring and he can whisper into your ear, he pleasures you with just his hand, showering you with praise and offering reminders.

“You feel wonderful my dear.”

“You are so beautiful.”

“You are doing so well.”

“Please don’t hold your breath, let yourself breath and allow me the pleasure of listening to your sweet voice.”

“Move, flex, twitch, cry out, close your eyes, do whatever it is you desire. I will be here with you no matter what to take care of you. To guide you. To love you.”

“Focus on my fingers and how they glide betwixt your flower petals, how they spread your slick until it coats you completely, how they circle your bud, how they slide in easily as if they were made to bring you to ecstasy.”

He will get you to finish like this, held on his lap and in his arms, without pushing you to reveal your body to him. And this is where the sexual escapade will end for the night. V can see that you are tired out by this first sexual interaction, whether you see it as losing your virginity or not, and he simply wants to enjoy caring for you and soaking up the warmth radiating from you in your afterglow.

What’s that? You’ve noticed that V is still hard and did not actually cum? “Do not worry yourself over such things my songbird.” He assures you as he lays you down on the bed and begins stroking your hair. “Though I truly appreciate your attention to me despite you being the star of this moment, I must confess that not even reaching a physical climax can outmatch the pleasure I feel in seeing your ecstasy, so there is no need for you to overexert yourself on me when you have already satisfied my heart and soul.”

This also continues for a while, where he will bring you to completion through his hands, mouth, or some other means without asking for anything in return. Though, if you ask him if you can touch him, he will gladly welcome it. But your pleasure is paramount and whether he reaches his own orgasm or not is irrelevant.

It goes without saying that if, at any stage, you ask for things to slow down or stop, V will without hesitation. However, one slightly negative effect is that he tends to take even things like “slow down” and “wait” as hard stops, pulling away and ending the moment there. You may have to stop him from just giving up right away. He finds it unexpected but endearing and arousing when you ask him to continue.

When he does, finally, go all the way, things are just as slow, sensual, and focused on your experience as everything leading up to this.

Having your hymen torn by V is extremely unlikely considering how carefully he had trained and molded your body for this moment. But, hypothetically, if this were to happen he would be frustrated.

He does not blame it on you in the slightest, nor does he show any sort of negative emotion outwardly. He pulls out and showers you in affirmations and comfort in any way he can with a gentle, sympathetic smile. On the inside though he is fuming.

He had been so careful, worked so hard to avoid this, and done everything he could to prepare you. And yet now his precious songbird was in pain and there was nothing he could do except offer moral support and maybe offer pain medication or natural pain relief like a bath.

He will insist you stop here for today and will take a few steps back in his plan to ease you back into trying that again.

After the eventual successful try, V is in a state of bliss as he enjoys the fruit of his labor. To experience the most intimate of connections with the one he loves and have you lay in his arms feeling satisfied, safe, and secure after giving him something so precious was a joyous moment he would carry with him for the rest of his life.

[dreamcubed]

me! | george weasley x reader

song; me! [taylor swift, brendon uri(n)e] pairing; george weasley x fem!muggle!reader genre; accidental marriage, s2l, fluff, comedy word count; 7,8k timeline; post-second wizarding war (fred lives au) warnings; swearing, referenced alcohol consumption, references to hook-ups, references to sex, references to the war summary; after waking up in bed with a red-haired stranger and no memories of the night prior, you run off as quickly as you can. it isn't until months later when you're trying to buy a house that you learn that you can't just leave that forgotten night in the past

thought it would be ironic to have the song with the lyrics "i promise that you'll never find another like me" and "i'm the only one of me" with one of the twins lol

masterlist

"you're the kinda guy the ladies want."

————————————————

Typically, you were more responsible than this. You had always stayed away from drunk hook-up culture, hoping (perhaps too idealistically) to find organic love. Yet, on the night of your cousin's bachelorette party, you got so drunk that you found yourself in bed with a stranger the next morning. And you didn't know what to do.

All you could do for a few moments was look around the hotel room that you had evidently decided was necessary for the hook-up - and although you couldn't remember a single thing after your tenth shot at the club, the fact you were both naked gave away the events of the night prior.

He was red-haired, and quite nicely toned, but he also donned a partially missing ear. You couldn't see his face, so at that particular moment you couldn't judge whether or not drunk you had good taste. You pushed that thought aside - that was the least of your concerns. You needed to get out of there and forget that anything had ever happened, which shouldn't be too difficult thanks to the alcohol-induced memory loss.

So, with that, you slipped out of bed and scavenged for all your clothes around the room, and then quickly departed. You made it all the way down to the lobby without any human interaction, but it was there at the desk that you finally had to communicate.

"Heading out for a bit, Mrs Weasley?" the receptionist smiled at you.

You frowned, not understanding why they would address you as such - probably had mistaken you for someone else. But, you were in a hurry, so just grinned and nodded, leaving to never return.

***

Not many people were fortunate enough to buy their first home (alone) at the age of twenty-four without any help from their parents, but you had chosen a rather well-paid career path and had been meticulous with your money savings, so this was a reality for you. After a few months of working with a real estate agent to view houses and find the perfect home for you, you had finally come to a decision.

You had stumbled upon it really, when travelling from London to visit your family, you came across a road that you had sworn hadn't been there before. Curiosity had overcame you, and you had driven down it to find the cutest village named Godric's Hollow, which could also be described as peculiar. A lot of things in the village didn't make sense - like the fact they all seemed bewildered at the sight of your car - but the architecture was gorgeous. When you drove past an adorable rustic cottage with a 'for sale' sign out front, you didn't even have to think twice about viewing it.

It was a strange process, however, as the sign didn't have a number for the real estate agency, but instead read 'owl Cauldron Realtors for more details'. You asked around for information about Cauldron Realtors (a particularly strange name, comparable to the robes many of the older members of the village wore), and they pointed you in the direction of the realtor's.

From then on, the process to view the house and apply for a mortgage had been relatively normal, if not a bit old-fashioned in the lack of technology used. However, you reasoned that it was a small village and that they merely hadn't updated themselves like cities just yet.

***

"Why have you asked me to come here?" you asked as delicately as you could upon entering Cauldron Realtors.

"We have had something come up," Mr Linseed said to you. He was an eccentric old man, constantly adorning a pair of half-moon spectacles perched on the tip of his nose.

"Like what?"

"You told us that you weren't married."

You frowned.

"And I thought it was a bit strange given your muggle situation, but honestly I had simply assumed that you were a squib."

He was using a lot of words that you didn't understand. You had heard the word muggle passed around in the time that you had spent in Godric's Hollow, but had been unable to find out what it meant online or in any dictionary. Everyone used it so commonly you had felt too embarrassed to ask.

"Obviously, this changes the process for you to apply for a mortgage. We need your husband to sign off either that he will partially own the house or have no claim over it."

"I don't understand- I'm not married," you said.

"No?" the man raised a brow at you, "When we searched for legal documentation of your name, we found that it hadn't been Y/N L/N for a few months, but instead Y/N Weasley. I didn't think much of you not having gotten around to changing your bank details yet since it hasn't been long, but going by your maiden name is a little strange. So, I assumed that the marriage was short-lived."

Why did Weasley sound so familiar? You wracked your brain for when you had heard it before.

"Heading out for a bit, Mrs Weasley?"

Your eyes widened.

The guy from the hotel.

"What did you say my husband's name was?" you said slowly.

"I didn't, but George Weasley," Mr Linseed replied, "You knew that, though, correct?"

You nodded, "Yeah... just making sure."

The man frowned at you, "He is quite well-known I suppose - the shop Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes is quite famous. Anyhow, here are the new forms that I need you to fill out and then we will be back on track."

You accepted them in a daze, but snapped your eyes up towards him again, "Where can I find Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes?"

"Diagon Alley, of course," Mr Linseed was clearly confused that you didn't know where your husband worked.

You had never heard of Diagon Alley, and he sensed that.

"You know? Through The Leaky Cauldron? On Charing Cross Road?"

Finally, a name you recognised.

"Oh, yes. Thank you, Mr Linseed, I'll be back soon."

God, what a process to get yourself a house.

***

You were pretty sure that in all your visits to Charing Cross Road, you had never seen that pub squeezed between those buildings before. But, you weren't about to complain, as you were desperate to find George Weasley and sort everything out. You couldn't remember his face, but you remembered his red hair and partially missing ear - that should be enough to identify him.

You hoped, anyway.

Upon entering the gloomy pub, you were met by quite a shocking sight - but one that wasn't entirely indifferent to Godric's Hollow. Except, you would describe the pub as having a more creepy ambiance, in a way. Beady eyes peered in your direction as you walked up to the bar, and you tried to hold your own as a woman with matted grey hair and disturbingly long fingernails smiled at you with missing teeth. You forced a smile back.

"Excuse me," you said to the bartender, who was similar to the woman in energy, "How do I get to Diagon Alley?"

He pointed to the door out the back.

"Just through that door?"

"You'll need your wand too," the woman who had smiled at you said, "To tap the wall."

"Wand?" you squeaked.

"I'll show you," the woman said eerily.

In any normal circumstance, you would have declined the offer, but you had already had so many new experiences you found yourself following her out the back.

"You're not one of us, are you?" she asked with a giggle of glee, pulling out a wooden stick from her pocket.

You didn't reply, watching as she brought it up and tapped some of the bricks on the wall. To your amazement, they then parted, presenting to you the most bustling and magical street that you had ever seen.

"Diagon Alley," she stated, "Although I prefer Knockturn Alley."

You thanked her, and hurried into the street.

***

The pet shops were strange: mostly having owls, cats and toads. The book shops were strange: having cages of moving books in the display windows. The clothes shops were strange: pretty much exclusively selling robes and pointed hats. All in all, Diagon Alley was the most eccentric place you had ever been.

There was a broomstick shop, a wand shop, and a place to buy cauldrons. You were so out of your depth that you decided you should focus on the task at hand.

It wasn't long before you found a bright and buzzing shop named Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, looking ten times more exciting than all the shops before it. You were almost overwhelmed with all the young people inside once you entered, and it finally became obvious to you that it was a joke shop. The numerous prank items on display were clearly enchanted in a way too, only furthering your amazement at this street.

You scanned around for a redhead, but it was really difficult to spot anything within the chaos. Eventually, you located a flash of red by the till and hurried over. The queue was unfortunately long, but you waited impatiently nonetheless.

When you finally reached the front, the red-haired man behind it looked at you, and you couldn't help but noticed he had two full ears.

"Are you buying anything, miss?"

"I'm looking for George Weasley," you said quickly.

He rose an eyebrow at you, "What for?"

"It's a long story, I really need to talk to him."

"I'll fetch him," he said, and disappeared out back for a few moments before returning with a man almost identical to him save for that all-too-familiar ear. He didn't look at you like he recognised you - maybe he drank so much he had memory loss too? That would make sense, considering he hadn't tried to find you either.

"Can I help you?" George Weasley asked, gesturing for you to move to the side so that his twin could continue at the till.

"This is gonna sound crazy, but," you took a deep breath, "You're my husband."

"You're right, that does sound crazy," he chuckled.

"You woke up in a hotel room a few months ago, right?"

His eyes widened, "I thought I hooked up with someone," he said, "Wasn't sure, though, because I woke up alone."

"Sorry about that. I don't really do hook-ups, I kinda freaked out and bolted."

"I don't really do hook-ups either," he shrugged, "No hard feelings."

"Anyway, as I said, it turns out we got married that night."

"Wow. I honestly can't remember anything."

"Me neither," you shook your head, "And we can't get an annulment - the cut off is three months. And we were way too efficient with sending off the marriage registration - we did it immediately."

He hummed, "That's quite a predicament. Divorce, then?"

You nodded, "Yes, obviously. But that will take ages, and I'm trying to buy a house for myself right now. I need you to sign off that you have no claim over it."

"That's no problem," thank God he was agreeable, "But what's your name?"

"Y/N L/N," you said, "Well, legally Y/N Weasley."

The man smirked at you, which admittedly made your stomach flip. Drunk you definitely had good taste: this man was gorgeous.

"Where's the house you're buying?" he asked.

"Godric's Hollow."

"Ah, my sister lives there," he hummed, "Nice village."

"Can I ask you a question - since you're my husband and all?" you didn't know why you added the last bit.

"Fire away."

"Why does everyone keep going on about muggles and wizards and witches and magic? I'm so lost, I don't know what's happening."

"Wait- you're a muggle?"

"As everyone apparently keeps saying."

He chuckled, "Oh, wow. My wife's a muggle."

"What does it mean?"

"I'll explain," he gestured towards the door to the back room, "But it'll be a lot to take in."

"I don't care, I just want an explanation."

And so, your husband, George Weasley, explained about the wizarding world that he was a part of. And how, by marrying him, you had automatically been granted permission by the Ministry of Magic to be an exception for all anti-muggle charms. Which was why you discovered the road to Godric's Hollow all of a sudden as a non-magic person, which you learned was what muggle meant.

At the very end of his explanation, you sat back in the armchair he had offered to you, "That explains so much. It's insane- but I'm relieved that it's not me going crazy."

"Must be quite a shock," he hummed, "I can't believe we got married. Are there any photos?"

"I mean, I suppose we could find the chapel we got married at and ask."

"Maybe it will trigger some memories of that night. I got drunkenly married - who knows what else I did?" he sighed.

"I don't know if I want to know."

George shrugged, "Better to find out that way than have a random woman come into your place of work and announce she's your wife."

You grimaced, making him laugh.

"I'm just teasing."

"Can I get your number? So I can contact you when I need to?" you asked.

George stared at you, "Number?"

"How do wizards and witches communicate?" you exasperated.

"By owl."

You blanked.

"You might want to get yourself one if you're moving into a wizarding village."

"How do they know where to go?"

"They just do."

You sighed.

***

"So, I phoned the chapel that we got married at and they confirmed that we signed the marriage registration and sent it off immediately," you said to George, taking a seat opposite him in your flat that you currently resided in, "They also posted this to me." You presented a large envelope to your husband and watched as he carefully opened it - even though it was already unsealed thanks to you.

He pulled out a marriage certificate: lettered in italic gold writing and clearly signed on the bottom two corners. As he pulled that out, another piece of card fluttered to the ground. You chewed your lip as you watched him pick it up.

"Wow," was all he said.

It was the same reaction you had when looking upon the photo of you and George at the alter: lips pressed together with smiles creeping on to your faces.

"We look so happy."

You hummed, "The photo hasn't triggered any memories for me."

You watched curiously as he waved it about. "It's weird that muggle photos don't move," he commented, "But- yeah- I can't remember anything more either."

"Maybe it's been too long," you reasoned, "Perhaps if we'd seen the photo the day after, it would've helped."

"Probably," he shrugged, "I can find a charm or potion that will help us remember - if you want to."

It hadn't occurred to you that magic was now a readily available tool.

"I'm not sure, to be honest," you said after a while, "I just really want to seal the deal on my house."

George nodded, "Of course, I'll sign the papers saying I have no right to it."

"Thank you for making this so easy," you said, giving him a warm grin, "When I found out I was married, I was so worried it was to a complete asshole."

"When I found out I was married, I thought it was simply a cute way a gorgeous woman had of flirting with me."

You felt heat rush to your cheeks at his comment. George was a stunning man: his damaged ear only added a rugged element to him, enhancing his beauty in a way that you didn't know possible.

He noticed your flustered reaction and chuckled a bit, "However, there is one problem with me signing those papers that your real estate agent really should've mentioned."

"What?" you filled with worry: that house was your dream house.

"If you're buying a house in the wizarding world, you're going to need a wizarding bank account."

"He kept going on about galleons," you thought for a moment, "But then he converted to pounds so I didn't think much of it."

George hummed, "Yes, but you're still going to need to pay in galleons."

"How do I get a wizarding bank account?"

"Only wizards, witches, squibs and muggles married to any of the former can access one. Oh, and muggles with magic children, even if they aren't married."

You realised what he was getting at. "So I can get one, but..."

"But it has to be a shared one with me."

You pulled your hands down your face, "But I love that house so much."

"I promise you I'm not trying to trap you."

"No, no- I get it. I just- that means I'd have to stay married to you until my mortgage is paid off. And that takes like thirty years."

"Even then, the bills would still need to be paid in galleons."

"Oh, fuck," you muttered, "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

George watched you in silence.

"I'm sorry. I'll divorce you and forget about the house," you said eventually, "It's not fair for me to force you to stay in a marriage for the rest of your life - I mean, I can't force you."

"I didn't say anything about that."

You frowned. In your mind, there was no other option.

"I'm willing to do it."

"George, it's just a house, you really don't need to-"

"I will," he reiterated, "You realise that if you divorce me, you won't be able to access the magic world anymore?"

It had become something you were so excited to explore that you were disheartened by that fact.

"It would be cruel for me to take it away from you, I think."

"But-"

"So, I will set you up on my bank account, sign off on the house, and stay married to you."

Your mouth was opened wide as you stared at him, and in a flash you had leaped across the coffee table in order to pull him into a hug.

"You're so amazing," you mumbled, hugging him tighter as he returned the embrace, "Thank you so much."

"Hey, anything for my wife," he chuckled.

Your heart stopped.

***

"I've had to change my name on my driver's license and passport and bank account and everything else," you sighed, "Such a hassle for a fucking house."

George, who was walking with you throughout the empty house that you had just officially bought, chuckled, as he seemed to enjoy doing, "You must really love this place."

You shrugged, "The house, I would probably get over. An entire magical world that I would lose access to? Not so much."

He hummed, gazing around the place. You had decided that he at least deserved to see the property that he had given up so much for you to own.

"I can't wait to begin decorating," you sighed, "I have big plans for the downstairs rooms and the master bedroom."

"What about the other bedrooms?"

"I'm not sure, to be honest," you pondered, "I'll probably make one of them an office, but the other two, I honestly don't know. It'll be a while before I have any kiddly winks running around."

"How come?"

"I need to find a man to create them with first," you reminded, "And that will be especially complicated since I'm married."

"Not if it's with me."

You were pretty sure his words held a joking undertone, so you laughed.

"Well, I shan't keep you any longer," you said, "I guess we'll keep in touch?"

"Stop by my shop as much as you can," George replied, but you sensed a slight trace of sadness in his voice.

Nonetheless, you smiled, "Of course."

***

Was two days later too soon to take George up on his offer of stopping by? Maybe, but life was too short for you to not do the things that you wanted to do. Plus, you were exhausted from moving furniture and painting (since you were stuck doing it the 'muggle' way), so a getaway from your new home was needed.

After getting someone from the Leaky Cauldron to let you into Diagon Alley, you made your way down to the corner that Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes sat on. You couldn't help the fond smile that tugged on your lips as you pushed open the door and heard the tinkle of the bell above you. The last time you were there, you had been too nervous about meeting your husband to properly appreciate the joyful buzz of the shop; it was truly a marvel to witness. You wish you had grown up with access to such extraordinary things.

"Hello," a redhead popped up beside you.

You jumped a little, not failing to notice the fact this man, although initially appearing to be George, had two full ears.

"Hello... Fred?" you attempted to recall his name.

He nodded, "I must say, I wasn't expecting my sister-in-law to pop by today."

It hadn't occurred to you that George would have mentioned his marriage to his twin brother, but now it seemed obvious that he would have.

"Is my husband here?" you asked, adding a joking undertone. Nonetheless, you couldn't help but notice how warm saying that made you feel.

"Of course, he's out back."

"Should I...?" you trailed off.

"You don't need to ask permission to go out back," he chuckled, in a strikingly similar way to George, "You're married to one of the owners."

"Yeah, but-" but before you could finish your sentence, your brother-in-law had disappeared. With a sigh, you proceeded on your way to the staff-only space, unable to push aside how special you felt being able to freely enter the area.

It was only when you caught sight of George's back did you realise that you had nothing to say and had simply stopped by.

"Y/N!" he smiled, turning around upon sensing your presence, "What brings you here?"

You shrugged, "You said to stop by often."

His grin stretched wider, "That I did, I'm glad to see you."

You felt shy after hearing him say that, and avoided eye contact.

"How's moving in going?"

"Oh- well. Exhausting, though," you sighed.

"I can't imagine having to do everything without magic," he said, "If you want any help to speed up the process, I'm more than willing."

You shook your head, "You've done enough for me."

"I could never do enough for you," he half-mumbled, but you heard it. You couldn't believe it, but you heard it. "I'm free this weekend," he said at a more regular volume.

"I mean- if you're sure-"

"Of course I'm sure."

"I-" you stopped yourself, "Thank you, George."

"Georgie!" a voice called from the front of the shop, not long before a short plump woman appeared in the doorway. "There you are," she said with hands on her hips.

"Oh, hi, mum," he said, "I wasn't expecting you."

"I was just in town looking to pick up your father a new shirt - I don't know how he wears them out so quickly!" she sighed, "I thought I'd take the chance to invite you over for a roast on Sunday."

You smiled at the evidently kind woman.

"And who is this?" she asked.

"This is Y/N."

"How did you two meet?" this time she had a glint in her eye.

"Uh, funny story, actually," George scratched the back of his head, "We're married."

You were surprised at his honesty with his mother.

The woman's eyes widened, "And you didn't tell me!"

"No one knew, mum- not even us," he quickly added.

She seemed to ignore what the last part of his statement implied, and swooped you into her arms, "Welcome to the family, my dear, we have a lot of time to make up for! You'll be coming on Sunday too, yes?"

She didn't give you a chance to reply.

"I'll have to tell your father immediately - do all your siblings know? I expect Fred does. Probably Ron too." She paused, "I haven't even introduced myself! Molly Weasley - call me Molly, of course."

"Mum-"

"Godric- I have so many people to tell! I'll see you both Sunday at four o'clock, please don't be late."

And with a hug to both of you, Molly Weasley departed just as rapidly as she had arrived.

"I'm sorry about that- my mum can be very full on," George apologised.

"I think she's sweet."

A soft smile graced his face, "Yes, she's a very lovely woman."

You hummed.

"I'll get you out of the dinner."

You frowned, "Why?"

"Well, my family will think you're- well-"

With a shrug, you replied, "I don't mind."

"I have a big family."

"I know."

"Most of them are quite loud people."

"That's okay."

"They'll ask a lot of questions."

"George, I want to meet your family," you realised as soon as you said them what your words could potentially mean.

"It's just- I- I don't want them to scare you away."

"Scare me away?"

He nodded.

You chuckled, "I'd like to see them try."

***

Sunday rolled around quickly, and as promised, George showed up at your house to pick you up at five to four. You figured that his parents must live very nearby if he was picking you up so late, but you hadn't given it much thought. All you had done was focused on yourself, dressing up what you deemed the adequate amount for a family event.

A knock sounded on the door, and you quickly rushed to open it, smiling when you were faced with the red headed man that you could call your husband. He was wearing a knitted jumper and baggy jeans, which was a relief to you since you also sported a knitted jumper, just with a skirt instead.

"Hello," you said, almost shyly.

"Hey," he replied, "You ready to go?"

"Yep, let me just-" you hurried back inside to grab the bouquet of flowers that you had bought for his mother, you weren't familiar with the guidelines for meeting family as you had never been in a relationship long enough to reach that stage, but flowers had felt like the right thing.

"Oh, for me?" he said teasingly.

You shook your head, dramatically holding them away from him, "You would be so lucky."

He chuckled, "Right, let's get going," he held out his arm for you to take, "You're gonna want to hold tight."

You frowned, but took his advice nonetheless, taking a firm grip of his bicep which had a hardness that made your heart flip. But before you could dwell on that thought, you felt like you had been sucked into a vacuum and spat out again in a split second. Your stomach cramped up and you felt nauseous as you fell on to grass in a completely new location.

"Sorry, that often happens the first time," George quickly helped you up along with the flowers, which thankfully were unharmed.

"Did we just- teleport?" you asked, holding your stomach. Thankfully, the nausea was already dissipating.

"We call it apparating but yes, we did."

"Why couldn't I be born a witch?" you whined, following George as he began walking up the path ahead of you.

You could only be amazed when the strangest house that you had ever seen came into view: looking like it should tumble over instantly with the mismatched extensions stacked on top of each other. Not too long ago, you would have been worried about its sketchy looking state, but now you immediately concluded that it was kept steady by magic. Even at the distance you still were from the house, you could hear a lot of noise coming from it.

"I bet you anything Fleur and Hermione insisted on being early," George grumbled, "Making my brothers look like angelic sons."

You smiled to yourself: his relationship with his siblings was making you want to reach out to your sister.

George didn't bother knocking when you reached the door, simply throwing it open and grinning at everyone who was stood around the kitchen. You couldn't help but feel some level of nerves as you were faced with so many strangers.

"George! Y/N!" Molly beamed, pulling you both into a hug, "I'm so glad that you could make it."

You presented the flowers to her, "I got you these."

"Oh, they're gorgeous!"

You watched as she pulled out her wand and arranged them in a vase without even using her hands. You didn't think observing magic would ever get old.

"Thank you, dear," she said, before turning to the others in the room. There was Ron, who you vaguely recognised from the shop, with a curly brown-haired woman on his side. Then there was the most ethereal woman that you had ever seen next to one of the more rugged looking men that you had seen in your time. There was also an older, balding, red headed man, who you suspected to be George's father.

"Y/N, you might remember Ron here," George said, and you nodded, "And this is his fiancée, Hermione. This is my dad, and over there is my oldest brother, Bill, and his wife, Fleur."

"Our little shit of a son is running around here somewhere," Bill added.

"Pleasure to meet you, Y/N," George's father shook your hand, "You can call me Arthur."

"I didn't realise you were bringing a guest, George," Hermione said.

"Oh, she's no guest," Molly smiled, "She's family."

The only person who didn't exchange confused glances was Ron.

"I'm his, uh, wife," you said, feeling awkward. You didn't really want to say it, because it felt like you were lying to them even though you weren't.

What followed was an array of congratulations, and Hermione accusing Ron of not telling her when he clearly already knew. And then, upon being asked, you both finally revealed that it was an accidental marriage upon which you were both very drunk. Molly was new to this news as well, but nonetheless, before you could give any more detail on where your 'relationship' with George currently stood, she spoke.

"As irresponsible as that was, I think there's something beautiful in the fact that you're now happily married."

While you weren't unhappily married, you didn't know how to say that you didn't know you were married until a couple months later, and that you weren't in a relationship with George. He said nothing to clarify, either.

That was when a small boy tumbled into the room.

"Ah, zis is Victoire," Fleur said, "Our son."

He was just as red headed as his father.

God, your kids with George would probably end up redheaded.

You internally froze at that thought - why had it seemed so natural to imagine yourself having kids with George?

You were yet again distracted from your mind, as seemed common in the Weasley household, when more people arrived. It was Fred and his fiancée, Angelina, as you soon learned. Shortly followed by Harry Potter, allegedly quite a celebrity, who was dating George's only sister, Ginny.

The only person to arrive alone was Percy, who had a much less chaotic energy than the rest of his siblings.

"You'll meet Charlie at some point," Molly said to you, "But he lives in Romania for his work with dragons."

It was insane to you that George had five brothers and one sister; having six siblings seemed like such a hectic upbringing. That thought almost led you to brush over Molly's mention of dragons - dragons?

Once again, you were introduced as George's wife, solidifying you in their eyes as a sister-in-law. These were your in-laws, you realised.

"Dinner's almost ready," Molly announced over the noise of all the people.

Many people rushed forward to help the woman with the finishing touches and laying the table, and you felt like an ass for not assisting as well, but you would have been of no help. They were all using magic, which was ten times faster than you could complete any task.

"What year did you graduate school? I can't remember you," Ginny said, evidently assuming that her lack of recognition was because you had been in a different year at Hogwarts from her. George had told you how most witches and wizards in a similar age group knew each other because of there only being one magic school in the country.

"I didn't go to Hogwarts," you said.

"Oh, did you study abroad?" she asked, walking over to the table with you.

"No, uh, I'm a- I'm a muggle."

Her eyes widened in realisation, "Oh! I see," she hummed, "That makes sense now that I think about it."

"You're a muggle?" Hermione, who had overheard, said.

You nodded.

"I'm muggle-born," she said, "I was raised muggle."

"I was raised muggle too," Harry added on, "But I'm not muggle-born."

After that point, Arthur Weasley kept posing an array of questions to you, explaining that he was fascinated by muggles, and it was even what had led him to having the job that he did. Wanting to be liked, you answered all his questions as best as you could, and found his childlike curiosity quite endearing.

"Leave the poor girl alone, Arthur," Molly scolded her husband.

"I don't mind," you replied, and, really, you didn't.

The food was absolutely delicious, to the point you almost moaned when you first put it in your mouth. You didn't think you had ever eaten such delectable food before, and you made sure that Molly knew.

Once the first course was finished and dessert was being brought out, Bill and Fleur stood up.

"We have an announcement to make," the latter smiled, looking to her husband.

"Fleur's pregnant," Bill grinned, placing his hand on her abdomen.

"Oh, that's wonderful news!" Molly exclaimed, "How far along?"

"Twelve weeks, two days ago," Fleur said, "In ze clear zone, as zey say."

"We don't know the gender yet," Bill added.

"For your sake I hope it's a girl," Molly sighed, "It took me six tries."

"We will be happy eizer way," Fleur said simply.

You couldn't help but get the sense there was some level of tension between her and Molly, so you leaned over to George as everyone began chatting again, congratulating the expecting couple.

"Do your mum and Fleur get along?" you whispered.

"Well, yes, but they haven't always," he whispered back, "My mum thought she was vain at first, even thinking that she would call off the wedding when Bill got that scar." He was referring to the large mark on his eldest brother's face.

You hummed.

"They've mostly resolved their problems now, but I think there will always be a bit of tension."

After dinner, you wandered around the home, observing all the moving pictures of the family.

"Aw, you were so cute back then," you said to George, looking at a photo of him as a toddler on a mini broomstick.

"Are you saying I'm not anymore?"

You shrugged.

"And how do you know that's me and not Fred?"

"You may be a twin, but there's only one of you, George," you said in passing, not realising how much those words meant to your husband. As much as he loved being an identical twin, there were times where he didn't want to be seen as part of a package deal. Even his mother struggled to tell him and Fred apart before his ear injury, but you- you could recognise him instantly.

Your gaze moved up the wall.

"That's an interesting clock."

It didn't tell the time, but instead had a hand for all of Molly and Arthur's brood, all currently pointing in the direction of 'home' apart from who must be Charlie, which pointed at work.

"Even on Sundays, he works," George sighed, "You know, there was a time where me and Fred had the same hand."

"Really?"

"Yeah, but after he moved in with Angelina, mum had it altered."

Your eyes flicked over the 'mortal peril' section of the clock, and you didn't realise you had read it aloud til he responded.

"Thankfully that hasn't served a purpose since the war."

It was unbelievable to you that such a life-changing war had happened while you remained completely oblivious.

"I suppose we'll have to expand the guest list for our wedding," Angelina approached you, making you turn away from the clock.

"Oh, you don't have to do that," you said.

"No, no. An extra person is hardly anything," she smiled, "You're family, of course you're coming."

Family.

"Well, thank you."

"Of course."

***

As you and George said your goodbyes and departed, you couldn't help but let out an elated sigh, "Your family is so warm."

He smiled, "I'm glad you like them."

"They're like, everything I want my in-laws to be."

"Really?"

"Yeah! Loud, happy, there for each other - with the slightest hint of drama, of course. They're perfect."

"We've been through a lot together."

"Yeah, I expect so."

You both fell into a comfortable silence, one that had you feeling content with your life in the most heart-warming way.

"You ready to apparate again?" George broke the silence when you reached the end of the path.

"As ready as I'll ever be," you grasped his arm tightly, prepping yourself for what was to come.

You didn't fall to the ground this time when you appeared outside your house, but you did still feel nauseous for a few moments.

"I'm really glad you came," George said.

"I'm glad too," you smiled.

And then there was silence - tension-filled silence. The kind of silence that led up to what you had secretly hoped would happen this entire time.

His lips on yours.

You moved your hands up to his hair as the kiss got more heated, flashes of memories dancing through your brain.

You met at the bar your cousin's bachelorette party was at, and began chatting. He was charming, and funny, and you were both really drunk. You went on a walk together - you walked past a chapel.

You had suggested getting married - jokingly, but he had then said.

"Why don't we?"

And so you did, giggling and laughing the entire time, even when you kissed. The kiss held the same magical feeling as it did now, that's what had triggered the memory.

He had kissed all along your jaw and neck as you both filled out the forms, and it wasn't long before you both booked a hotel and by all technical terms, consummated.

"I remember," you parted from him breathlessly, only to kiss him again.

"Me too," he mumbled, pushing you back against your front door.

"Do you want to come in?" you asked.

***

This time, you were the one to wake up alone in bed, but that wasn't the only difference. You remembered every single moment and sensation from the night before - and from your wedding night, for that matter. A smile almost crept on to your face, but it dropped when the panic set in that George had upped and left like you had before. You scrambled out of bed, pulling a shirt and some pants on, and then rushed down the stairs to see if he was anywhere in your house.

And he was.

There your husband was, in the kitchen, cooking a full English breakfast - using magic, of course. You had electric appliances installed when you moved in, since most magic homes didn't generally possess them, but with George there, you supposed they weren't really necessary.

"Hey, love."

Love. That's what he had called you all of last night and your wedding night.

It made heat travel to your ears.

"Hi," you replied shyly.

"Take a seat, I'm almost finished."

You obeyed, deciding to let the wizard take care of you, even though he really had done too much for you ever since you met him - the second time, that was.

Your dining table was a temporary one, as your entire home was still a work in progress: it wasn't easy decorating an entire house by yourself, especially without the assistance of magic. Nevertheless, it did the job. George came over with the food and sat opposite you, gesturing for you to dig in.

"Thank you," you smiled, picking up the cutlery.

"I told you, anything for you."

"You're too perfect," you mumbled, making George chuckle.

"My ear may be injured, but my hearing's fine."

You looked up at him to make eye contact, feeling like he could read you with his gaze, "Your ear makes you even more perfect."

"I'm glad you think so, would be a bit upsetting for me if you didn't."

"I aim to please," you grinned.

***

"You didn't tell me the wedding would be quite so soon," you huffed, straightening out the pastel pink dress you adorned in the mirror.

George shrugged, tightening his tie, "Didn't think about it."

You were, of course, in reference to Angelina and Fred's wedding, merely two weeks after the dinner in which you met the former. Out of all the moving boxes you still had left to unpack, you had been forced to dig for a suitable outfit that fitted the colour scheme.

Aside from work, you and George had been practically glued at the hip in the days since he first stayed at yours - and he had been consistently staying at yours ever since. He had probably spent about three nights total at his own flat in that time span. So much to the point that when he came over the day prior, he had brought his suit for the wedding with him, fully anticipating that he would be spending the night.

You hadn't put a label on what you currently were, other than legally married, as it was.

"We have to be early," he said, "Since I'm the best man."

"I'm aware," you replied, sitting on the edge of your bed to pull your shoes on, "I'm pretty much ready."

"Alright, let's go."

***

The ceremony was a beautiful occasion: held at the Weasley house, The Burrow. The entire garden was decorated beautifully in shades of pink, purple and white, with bouquets of flowers adorning every table and chair. Obviously, a drastic difference from your own wedding.

You were sat in the crowd while George was up near the altar with the maid of honour, but he was not your focus. Angelina was a transcendent bride.

When it came to the meal, you were - to your shock - sat on the primary table where the newly weds were. You supposed that it made sense, since George was obviously going to be sat by his twin brother, and you were his wife. Generally, married couples weren't separated at events. You were certainly relieved, since you hardly knew anybody else.

The only other people on the main table were Molly, Arthur, Angelina's parents, and Angelina's maid of honour and her partner. There was a second table for the rest of the Weasley siblings and their partners, and so on and so forth for more distant relatives and friends.

Once the toasts were made, the meal commenced, and you hadn't realised how hungry you were 'til that moment.

"Slow down, love," your husband commented, "I'd prefer if you didn't choke."

You shrugged, your mouth full. Once you had eventually swallowed, you said, "Much grander event than our wedding."

"We could always renew our vows," he said, and even though he had made many comments about wanting to do anything for you, and had done many intimate things to you in the bedroom (and elsewhere in your house, for that matter), it felt like the first real confirmation that you were in a relationship. Even more, that you weren't just in a marriage out of convenience, but instead because you simply wanted to be.

You parted your mouth to reply, when some children from Angelina's side began causing chaos by running around. "Lord, our kids better behave," you muttered.

George turned to look at you, and it was then that you became aware of what you had said.

"Our kids?" he was grinning.

"Shut up," you mumbled.

"Never - just let me know when you want to start, love," he winked at you.

"A bit too soon, I think."

He shrugged, "We got married within a few hours of knowing each other."

"We were drunk."

"We can get drunk again."

You sighed, "We don't even live together."

"I can move in."

You didn't have anymore rebuttals.

"Are you out of arguments now?" he asked.

You reluctantly nodded.

"Perfect."

***

Instead of apparating directly to your house, you and George decided to take a late night walk around Godric's Hollow. It was such a pretty village, and you had yet to appreciate its beauty in the dark, with all the magical lamps glowing around you. But, you knew that you and George needed to have a conversation, especially after the kids talk from earlier.

"Are we together?" you asked him, even though your interlocked hands should have answered the question.

"We're married, love."

"Yes, but are we together?"

"I'd like to think we are - do you?"

You remained silent for a few moments, before nodding and looking at him in the darkness of the night.

"Then there you have it."

"I just don't get why."

"Why what?"

"Why you've done so much for me when you hardly knew me."

George chuckled, "I admit, I don't know exactly when I made the decision to do anything for you, but when you strutted into my shop, determined as ever, and announced that you were my wife, I just-" he paused, squeezing your hand, "You looked so cute and I knew- in that moment- that I would never meet someone else like you."

You felt like you were melting on the spot.

"It may have seemed selfless that I helped you get the house - but, to be honest, it was the perfect excuse for me to trap you to me- make it easier for me to pursue you, that is."

"I love you, George," you sighed.

"I'm glad, because I've loved you for quite some time now."

"Love at first sight?"

"You would be so lucky."

You let out a childish giggle at that.

"But, yes, I think it was."

——————————————————

masterlist

written; 18/08/2023 —> 03/09/2023 published;04/09/2023 edited; —/—/——

[emmaiscool22]

All For Me

Killer x female reader

Warnings: nsfw! mdni!! oral (both male and female receiving), cursing!

18+ beyond the cut!

Killer wanted you all day. He had been turned on ever since the battle earlier that day. Watching you fight alongside him in a fight against another pirate crew, gave him great pleasure. The way you would fight back to back, protecting each other. He loved how you trusted him to defend you, not that you needed any defending though.

Now, celebrating the crew’s victory, Killer couldn't help but let his hands roam over any body part he could get ahold of. His hands ran across your thighs, tethering on the edge of inappropriateness, as you sat next to each other at the feast. 

After a long night of partying, Killer ushers you into your shared room, quick to shed his mask. “Finally,” Killer mumbles, leaning in to catch your lips, “alone.” 

You stumble back as Killer pushes you back towards your bed, but suddenly he spins you around so your back is against his chest. Slowly, he begins to thrust lightly, his crotch rubbing against your ass, letting his hands wander from your hips up to your breasts, kneading them slowly. His breath is tickling your ear as he whispers, “Feel what you do to me?”

Too tongue-tied to reply, you nod, and let out a whine when he bites at your neck. You let out a soft sigh when he starts to rub at your nipples, letting your head hang back on his chest. His chest vibrates with a soft groan when you start to grind your ass against him. You stop abruptly, spinning around in his arms, and shove him gently onto the bed. His eyes, although partially covered by his bangs, are blown wide at your unexpected actions. He lets out a moan when you begin to strip off your clothes, chuckling lightly when you toss your shirt at him, “gods, I love you.”

You grin at him, “I love you too.”

He can’t help but admire you, and motions for you to spin around for him. You do as he says, letting him ogle at your body. Killer moves you to stand in between his legs, running his arms up and down your torso, “all for me?” He questions, his lips ghosting over your stomach, sending you into a tizzy.

“All for you,” you confirm, “all yours.”

With that, Killer takes you in his arms and throws you onto the bed. Before you can settle down, he pulls on your ankle towards the edge of the bed. His hands scratch at your skin as they move from your ankles to the plush of your thighs, pulling them apart. Killer takes a hand and grabs at your chin, “eyes on me, pretty girl,” he orders, “wanna watch you cum on my tongue.”

He dips down, breath fanning where you need him the most. You buck your hips to try and get him to proceed, but his hand comes to lay on your hip, holding you down. “Don’t tease me,” you sigh, “I need you.”

His eyes move from your sex to your own, “you don’t like to be teased”, he questions, “your pussy is telling me differently.”

He rubs his thumb through your wetness, making you whine. Tantalizingly slow, he begins his assault on your sex. His tongue flickers your bud, while his other hand teases your entrance. Although, you and Killer have been together for years, the intimate part of your relationship would never fail to amaze you. He flattens his tongue and applies pressure to your clit, lapping up your juices, making you cry out. “Kil…”

He hums in amusement, the vibrations turning you on more. He starts to suck on your clit and two fingers enter you, thrusting in and out at a steady pace. Killer feels your body beginning to flutter around his fingers, knowing that you are close. Pulling back from your clit, he begins to ruthlessly attack your sex with his mouth. “Kil, I-I am so close!” 

You move your legs over his shoulders, his head stuck in between your thighs. Killer speeds his fingers up and curls them. You cum with a moan, stars twinkling behind your closed eyes. Killer takes a minute to work you through your orgasm. You feel him moving your legs from his shoulders, and groan when he removes his fingers from inside you. Opening your eyes, you see Killer standing upright in front of you with a small smile on his face. Tracing over his body, you can see how truly turned on he was. Although fatigued, you weren’t going to let your man go unsatisfied, “let me return the favor.” 

Sluggishly, and as sexy as you could, you slide off the bed and onto your knees in front of Killer. Skillfully, you take his belt in your hands and rip his jeans off him in record time, while he takes his shirt off. You kiss down his happy trail, his thighs, and slowly lick him from his balls to his tip, Killer hisses. You pull back and look up at him, “you like that, baby?” You question.

Killer opens his mouth to respond but chokes when you take him into your mouth. Sucking at his tip and letting your hand cup his balls, rolling them in your palm. Killer lets out a loud moan, encouraging you to take more of his dick in his mouth. His hand presses on the back of your head, gripping at your hair to create a makeshift ponytail for you. His other hand grips his hair as he grumbles. Bobbing your head up and down on his shaft at a quick pace, Killer’s orgasm sneaks up on him. With a cry of your name, his cock twitches in your throat and seemingly gets harder before his hot, sticky cum coats your throat. Pulling back with a pop, your hand continues to play with his balls. Killer locks eyes with you, utterly spent, and lets out a whine, grabbing your wrist to stop your assault. 

Killer signals for you to hold onto his hands, pulling you up into your chest. Snuggling together in the open air of your room. “Let’s get in bed,” Killer mumbles. 

You both climb into bed on your respective sides before scooching close together, basking in the warmth of your naked bodies. “You okay,” you ask him. 

“Never better.” 

Killer lays his head on your chest, your hand scratching his scalp. A comfortable silence fills the room as the two of you cuddle close, caressing each other. You don't know how much time has passed before Killer sits up slightly, looking down at you on the pillow, “round two?”

[slashersidewhore]

Slashers! S/O hurt by a victim pt.2

Slashers x gn!reader

Includes Billy Loomis, Bubba Sawyer, Bo Sinclair, Lester Sinclair

Requested? Yes

Warnings: beefy murder boyfriends, hurt/comfort, minor angst, injuries, blood, fluffy shit

Billy Loomis

It was partially his fault, he was careful but didn’t always think everything through

That’s why you were currently in the clutches his supposed to be victim, knife held to your neck, you could feel warmth from your blood seep down the blade and beneath the collar of your shirt. Struggling only made the situation worse, although you couldn’t help the small gasp as more pressure was applied to your current wound

Feral. You’d never seen Billy’s eyes filled with such a look of utter insanity. He’d done despicable things, ruined lives, played with people like they were just there for his entertainment, but this, seeing you so close to the edge he sent so many others, was the final straw to snap whatever piece of him was remotely still human

He fingers clasped the knife tighter in his grasp, curling around the hilt and wishing he could drive it into your captors jugular

“They ain’t part of this!”

Brows pushed down, mouth pulled in a snarl, he went to take the risk and lunge before a choking sound cut the tension rising in the kitchen in half, your body stumbling towards Billy by instinct, comforted by the way he dropped the knife with a clatter and wrapped his arms around your body, hurried to get you as close as possible

Stu stood at the other end of the tiled floor, half smile glimmering as he stared down at the man he’d just disposed of from life

You curled further into your boyfriends chest, unable to shake the fear you’d felt moments before, still able to feel the cold metal pressing into your flesh. One of Billy’s hands worked it’s way up your trembling back, cupping your face as to direct your eyes to his. They were warm, vacant, yet warm when they landed on your wide eyed expression

“That’ll never happen again, you hear me? Never.”

Letting you push your face back into his neck, the killer began rubbing soft circles on your spine, cold gaze frozen on the still body mere feet away. If looks could kill, the man would have several more stab wounds, each more painful than the last

Billy’s eyes fell to the blade he’d planned on using, head tilting ever so slightly as he pondered how it wouldn’t be out of his way to inflict a few lacerations across the face that even would dare to breathe beside you

Bubba Sawyer

Bubba didn’t like you being around victims, during times where he was killing he got reckless, so dazed in his mind and it constantly worried him that in such a state he could mistake you for another and cause you harm

That being said, mistakes happen

Bubba was standing in a bloody puddle, leaking from the headless body beside him. Loose, brown curls fell in his face as he shook his head held by his rough palms, almost cradling himself. He’d been fooled by one of his potential victims, ending up with him alone with a dead body, and someone missing who knew too much.

The others were gonna rip him a new one, he didn’t even want to think about the look on your face. You’d look at him with such pity, you had yet too thus far, but he just knew that expression was soon to fall on your face. How couldn’t it?

The negative wave of thoughts dragging Bubba down were sliced through by a piercing scream, a chill running down his spine before he realized who’s voice it was who made such a sound, he’d recognize it anywhere

No amount of debris, rickety stairs, tables or chairs could keep Bubba from getting to you, all knocked from his path as the lumbering, masked man ran the fastest his legs would go, chainsaw alive and buzzing in his ear

Bubba didn’t even take a second to pause as he took in the scene, still running full force like his life depended on it. Anguish filled his veins, the victim was straddling your cowering body, arms raised to protect against their assault of punches, they were screaming something he didn’t care to hone in on, focused on getting the offender off and away from you

All he saw was red, on his arms, the creases of his hands soaking into the soles of his boots, digging past the fabric at the knee of his pants as he knelt down, pushing the limp, torn and mangled body from atop of you. Fingers trembling, Bubba paused as you sat up in shock, clothing and skin flushed with blood. Scooting until your body was closer to the man, you crumpled into his embrace, letting you arms fall limp, nose digging into his shoulder. Calloused hands clutched the shirt on your back, tugging you closer, you could feel his soft, unintelligible mutters and whimpers pliant into your collar bone

The two of you just sat there, not wanting to be away from each other for even a second after such a close call

Bo Sinclair

Unlike Bubba, Bo likes you beside him nearly every minute. Yeah, sometimes he’s an asshole, but that’s just one of the traits you’ve come to accept as part of the man you love

It was between the moments where you weren’t stuck to his side, or sitting off within his view, that you realized you were at your most vulnerable, unfortunately we all have a lesson that teaches us such

“Where the fuck are my friends?”

A rough, gritty voice yelled from behind you, catching your moment of silence off guard, spinning around, your heart dropped to your stomach as your eyes landed on what you recognized as one of Bo’s victims standing with squared shoulders, but what made it worse was the fact they were holding a gun

The stranger only seemed to seethe with further rage at the look of your confused face, mouth opening and closing like a fish, eyes wide as the gun raised and their finger went to the trigger

Right as the blaring ring of a shot went off, you were thrown to the side by a heavy weight, body landing on the ground with a dull thud and two large hands blocking the bulk of the impact, hands that were gone from your body a second later, dark shadow leaving frame quick as light as loud footsteps echoed after it

“You son of a bitch!”

You knew that voice, rolling over to gaze at the scene right at Bo tackled the victim to the ground, straddling their body and delivering punch after punch, unable to see his face but hearing the loud curses and violent statements he let fly recklessly

Concern, wide eyes found your similarly large ones, knuckles torn and clothes splattered with red. The mechanic practically folded down into you, forehead coming to press against yours, Bo’s thumbs pressed into the skin under each of your ears, tilting your chin up

“Are ya’ alright baby?”

You could only nod, frightened to think you’d nearly been shot, yet comforted by the warm embrace of the killer, his usual stoic gaze softened, searching you over for any scrapes or cuts. Lips press to the crown of your head, you could lightly hear his inhaling your scent, sighing from the exhaustion of the ordeal

“You’re never leaving my sight again”

Lester Sinclair

Lester doesn’t get himself caught up with Bo and Vincent’s business most the time, in fact as much as a talker the man is, he does like to keep to himself

That’s why it’s a surprise when you’re chilling in the passenger seat of the mans car, mindlessly flipping through a magazine, when an unfamiliar voice enters the warm, afternoon air

“Listen buddy, my friends have been gone for hours and you’re the last person they saw, start talking”

You can see out the pickup trucks window the back of someone facing Lester, their fists clenched as he drops the current task at hand. His gaze darts to you, over their shoulder, and it widens when the stranger whips around, hand on the car door handle, throwing it open

“Get out, I’m taking the car”

Your arm is roughly grasped at the bicep, stumbling over your feet when you’re tossed to the leaf covered ground, wincing at your knee slices against a rock. Eyes squeezing shut at the pain, you didn’t even notice the quick steps of Lester behind you, his shadow looming over yours on the ground as a howl of pain became present. In seconds, the once standing stranger slumped to the ground beside you, cold eyes glazed over, a rather vicious yet precise cut to the base of their throat

“Aw darl’, yer knees all cut up”

Lester mumbled, squatting to your height as he looked over the damage, eyes big and clearly worried. Unsettled, that was the best way to describe the look plastered across the mans face, mouth pulled in a deep frown. Still in shock from being so manhandled out of your seat, you wrapped your arms around his neck, nuzzling the underside of his jaw. Never mind the dirt and sweat that caked his skin, it was comforting at this point

“Never lettin’ someone push ya around like that again, ya hear me?”

His rough palms rubbed the expanse of your back, glancing down at the body still inches away growing colder by the minute

“Let’s take care of that knee”

Requests open!

[queerofthedagger]

one thing that keeps me up at night is how, as people have pointed out before, arthur loved merlin simply for being merlin, regardless of magic or destiny etc., but how in some ways, that doesn't exactly apply the same way the other way around now does it?

like. i mean obvious merlin loved arthur for just being arthur, man would have never stuck around otherwise and one may even argue that later on, he actually did put arthur over destiny repeatedly (although i will say i agree only partially with this because why wouldn't he protect arthur above all else, if it's arthur who is supposed to make it happen! that said yes, most of his motivation to keep arthur alive came from arthur being his friend, not some higher calculation.)

thing is. arthur wouldn't exactly know this. arthur in fact in the finale seems to grapple with this a lot, if not most. the idea that to merlin, too, he had been a means to an end, as to so many others, whether in them wanting to use him, or wanting to get him out of the way.

there are very, very few people (gwen, pretty much as the only one alive) for whom arthur was just arthur first, king and destined peace-bringer, prince and first knight etc etc second. and i think if not for the whole, you know, dying business, it would take him a long time to actually, fully believe that merlin was one of them, after all.

which is just fucking heart-breaking, innit.

[siminiecricketart]

Thinking about how soldier poet king applies to Percy Jason and Nico

Nico is arguably the soldier: “The Soldier is a person who sees everything as a fight. He feels destined for violence, driven by anger, and he walks into this world of conflict, partially by his own choice” - throughout the original and HoO, Nico is seen to be a character who holds a grudge, who holds in so much anger and resentment over what happened to his sister, to the point where she begs him to forgive, to let go and move on but he struggles with this. He then also holds anger over his feelings towards Percy, that although he blames her for Bianca, he also develops feelings for him so his whole arc which causes further torment, and he is driven by anger of all the wrongdoings towards him in his life. I know peopl would be like “uhhh ghost king? It’s in the name???” But just trust me. He is the solider.

Jason is the Poet: “The Poet is a more peaceful creature who sees the beauty and poetry of the world and uses the power of words and his sensitivity as a strength that others may underestimate. However, the quiet power of his character can change the world as much as an act of war.” Jason’s whole arc was that he was trained as a perfect Roman soldier since he was a baby. It makes perfect sense that he would be placed in the solider category. But this just isn’t Jason, and we see him fight this role.. Jason isn’t prone to violence, and we can see in his character that anger doesn’t drive him. Despite how he was trained, and how he should have been, Jason is seen as more of peaceful character compared to the other two. He wants peace, he wants to right the wrongdoings done towards the minor gods and goddesses - to the point that he decided his purpose was to recreate New Rome, to build shrines to these gods and goddesses so that they can get the respect and devotion they deserved. He wanted to leave the world a better place than the one he lived.

And Percy is the king: “The King is a person who feels the burden of being the one who has to manage and take accountability for the world. Duties are inevitable for him, and he feels he must take them on his shoulder and follow what the world expects.” I don’t even think I have to say much on this. Percy has felt the burden of the prophecy from the moment he arrived at camp. He didn’t tell anyone of Nico and Bianca’s parentage, because he didn’t want Nico to have any responsibility of the prophecy - time and time again, percy has taken the burden of helping the gods, helping the world. He carries the prophecies on his shoulder, and then CHB and CJ. This, and his fatal flaw being loyalty, percy being the king, and not the soldier makes absolute sense in my mind.

I’m so bad at words but I hope my reasoning makes sense with these three and yes I will be drawing this lol

[hocuspocusbabyy]

A ring of bright light: Chapter 1. ‘It’s happening again.’

Eloise Bridgerton x Female OC.

Description: Eloise Bridgeton is to marry Lord Brennan this upcoming season, following a residency at her familiar home Aubery House. Their betrothal is to be announced in two months. If all goes to plan…

Warnings: None?

Word count: 1k (just an opener don’t panic loves.)

Next Chapter

Eloise tightened her gloved hands on the balcony wall, partially to resist the temptation to leap ahead and greet those who waited on the other side and partially to wake herself from the nightmare to come.

Winter air cools against her skin, the long gown doing little against the harsh country noir exterior that was Aubrey House at night. Buried deeply into the evergreen stitch of her corset, her heartbeat ragged against the confinement. If birds were not built for cages, surely the same logic would be applied to herself? Bare feet making a swift sloshing sound aggravating the gravel below, debris digging into the pads of flesh deeper than any weapon she had known before.

The gardens seemed alive with light as every inch of ground bubbled with people and for a fleeting moment, as more carriages approached the castle. A warmth raised within her chest as undeniable anxiety, familiarity. Turning her back to the on coming guests, the small of her back pressed deadly against the barrier. Shadows filtered through the historic windows, as the dust licked walls still seemed to cling onto the fleeting light of Friday as though an old friend they had yet to have finished talking to. A shaking breath escaped the mouth, caught in a brief moment of admiration towards the dripping sun - for out of all the fires she had seen this hideously biblical form was one she had grown fond of; or rather the flashes of red from within its last moments as through snippets of the passing day mere memories now. Only the future night was imminent.

She was running unusually late, she could tell by the main entrance to the building growing peacefully desolate; as the other inhibitors congregated within the ballroom. Her eyes squeezed shut, desperately clinging to those final moments of silence.

“You’re not considering jumping are you?” A voice asked the approaching footsteps drew closer, heart edging to her throat.

“What would that help? Death has no use for me yet, although I do wish he would.”

“What makes you so sure death is a man?” The voice asked again, their body finding rest beside Eloise.

“Surely only a man could be so cruel, as to hover such a fate in my peripherals.”

“I see.” The voice hummed as though mulling the conversation, “And clearly you see so much with your eyes practically melted closed.” Eloise’s laughter was a welcome sight to her visitor, the brunette's eyes finally opening as her head found rest against the woman’s shoulder. Her mother – Violet. A buoyant woman; complimented heavily by her Angelically crow-like features - coils of ash tamed in a formal updo so different to the style had grown accustomed to as she usually pottered away her hours within the castle greenhouse. Fingers never without the soil beneath them, a relationship with a ghastly old nail brush that lay upon the kitchen sink heavily established. She'd always lecture upon the importance of soil, on how each particle of the earth somehow held its own story and origins - for soil had seen more love, more pain than any human. As she'd place lumps of the material within their hands "Rub it in then the memories never leave you".

It was reminiscent of her father, of his death. Violet hadn’t allowed anyone to tend to the lilacs since.

“Is everyone here?” Eloise asked after a moment, basking in the comfort of her material figure.

“All the ducks are in rows my dear, now they await a leader.”

“You’re their leader.” mumbled the familiar scent of gardenia flowing past her, upon the open air.

“Now for long my little swan.” Violet sighed, a perfectly delicate hand raising to card its way through the princess’ hair.

“Is he here?”

“Your suitor? Yes dear unfortunately for you he has shown” The queen laughed hoping to lighten her daughters mood.

"We have a nasty habit involving men in this family" her mother would often say whilst winking at her father Edmund across the room. He had passed on almost ten years ago; he'd been the best hug giver and secret magician, never failing to pull a coin from an awaiting child's ear. A sometimes overbearingly traditional yet progressive man, his head still surprisingly full of hair till the day of his early demise. Collins is seemingly thinning already.

His passing had wrecked the family. His wife, all the more scornful and ironically loving; the clone of her mothers, and the replica of herself - Lady Violet was no elementary being, her voice like bathwater, every syllable effortless and wise. She played the piano as though it were second nature to breathe air; embraced few but loved many under the guise of something to be feared. Eloise’s most loved and favoured person in the entire world… unless you asked Benedict.

Then there was Eloise, Lou and 'Flower' on the not too rare occasion, for as her mother was prone to say and the people continued, was the "one of the most precious examples of life to ever grow within these gardens.” with her uncontrollable ripples of dark hair, ill radiance and sea filled eyes, the procurement of two fine specimens to create the most poorly formed swan the world was ever to behold.

“I wish he were here.” Eloise mumbled gently, Violet’s lips falling to kiss the crown of her head.

“I know my dear, as do I.”

Father had died in these very Gardens during her seventh year. Leaving behind Anthony as the elder brother to ascend the house.

“Come now. Best to hit the ground running, keeping your guests waiting is a terrible introduction.” Violet stated, stepping towards the balcony doors.

The set of grand doors that almost shook with vigour with the level of presence behind it, the noise and voice of many locked behind it. Eloise came to her mother’s side – she could not run from this, this was her home.

The doors were opened with one swift movement of the awaiting footmen, revealing a ballroom, many familiar inhibitors of the neighbouring families huddled around in festivities, laughing. Drinks not far from hand, and children in clear scheming mode begging their respective guardians to stay up late; while others could be seen playing games in each corner, the low light shining on each face – new and old.

“Introducing The Dowager Viscountess Bridgerton and Miss Eloise Bridgerton.”

[itsthe60sbaby]

As I said all in all, I loved this season very much, although after some reasoning on the Polin dynamic and on what to me felt “off” and “went amiss” I came to the conclusion that the show runners could have had it all winning the heart of the fandom just by adding a couple of things (minus a couple of threesome cause one was enough to get the idea and well, maybe they could save time avoiding Miolet in the drawing room). Anyhow, here’s what I have been thinking:

- After the Queen bursted in at the wedding breakfast, they could have had Polin go home and have a fight, quite similar to the one they have in the book, with the same mixed feelings on behalf of Colin (who had already had his confrontation with Pen in the street in the show so was halfway to “forgiving her” already. She had apologized, outburst of angst, making out against the door yada yada, they had gotten married, new emotional chapter): he could have been infuriated now because of the Queens’ alleged threat, worried about Pen, about her safety, just as in the book, she might have said something about him feeling ashamed of her. Looking hurt. That might have got him click somehow. Cause a shift, a change in his current feelings. And so through an argument, she might have said something along the lines of being clear that he had married her but didn’t want to be with her in that moment, for their wedding night, and then the “stay quote”. Lovemaking. Which would have been not a first time, but a new experience. Truly knowing one another at this point, mending things in the bedroom as well, admitting they can’t stay away from each other at this point, for better or for worse, as in a real relationship and marriage of love after all; Colin giving in to the impulse of wanting to hold her, torn b/w the “grudge” he was holding and the love and attraction and the urge to protect her he felt (however perhaps still disagreeing in the morning on the value of LW. Just they would have been speaking two different language at that point. Colin envious still unable to admit it yet. Pen thinking he was ashamed of her) New chapter. New menace. Cressida comes along. Yada yada, the rest works.

- At the end of the ball of bugs or whatever it’s called when he asks her to dance, she should have said she’d rather go home (as in the book, where it’s implied they go home to make love and lock themselves in for weeks). This would have given the show an opportunity for an alternate sequence: of people dancing at the ball and of the two of them making love at home with some parallelisms to the ball scene and a palpable difference between this love making and their first (or second time). IDK I imagine it slow and sweet, and exploring experience. Pen being “in charge” undressing him slowly, looking Colin in the eyes. Touching and kissing and being more mature, his equal. Both feeling deserving of one another. And then, just as in the show, they could have headed to the bed, still partially dressed, I don’t care for nudity, and make love, with Pen straddling him. But they should have shot the lovemaking to the end, with the alternate montage, with the two of them entangled, and at the end of it smiling to one another, and that for me might have done it.

I think, all in all, with these two adjustments, without departing so much from the book and yet adding some lovemaking (mind you, not sex, not spicy stuff, but some moments of true connection and growth happening into the bedroom) the season would have been close to perfection.

This being said, after my humble two cents on the matter of screenwriting and fanfictional alternate course of action… shall we apply for a partial remake? Should I find a Delorian? I’ll ask Sheldon. There must be a way to reset time and adjust a couple of things. I must have a time turner somewhere.

[ewanmitchelll]

Imagine Arctic Monkeys’s songs: Do I Wanna Know?

Imagine you are seduced by Aemond Targaryen.

Warnings: fluffy, light reading—explicit smut.

Warnings 2: alternative universe where the Greens won uncontestedly the war.

***

Have you got colour in your cheeks? Do you ever get that fear that you can't shift the type that sticks around like something in your teeth?

Aemond finds difficulty to settle after years waging war. There is peace after a decade fighting his sister and her partisans. They are all nothing but names now, recorded in the maesters books.

To placate his restless energy, the prince has, in many ways, followed in his bitter enemy’s footsteps—getting himself lands in the Free Cities, he found himself a new life style as well as a new wife.

But because he’s now the Hand of the King, in opposite to Daeron’s career in Citadel, his life style was left behind. For now.

You, however, settled easily with this new routine. Harrenhal is your home and this is the household you must fill your wifely duties. Initially, you found a rival for your husband’s affection—his former mistress, a woman named Alys Rivers, did not let easily go the path to Aemond’a heart—which complicated your smooth transition from the life of a free damsel who loved the seas to a noblewoman, wife of a bad reputed prince.

Despite the initial scandal such a match evoked, you and Aemond overcame the early disapprovals until the dowager queen accepted you as her daughter-in-law in a relationship that grew fondly in due time.

As you spend the afternoon reading a love story between a knight and his damsel in distress, which in some shades reminds yours, you are found missing your husband dearly.

Aemond has been gone to Free Cities to knock a local rebellion and negotiate peace terms with the involved, applying the law, before going back. And he misses you too.

When he lands with Vhagar, he hurries to you—although the prince needs to clean himself first. Only then he comes at you.

Aemond finds you busy with your lecture at their bedchambers, so concentrated that you don’t spot him, leaning against the wall, watching you with a side smirk on his lips.

Are there some aces up your sleeve? Have you no idea that you're in deep? I've dreamt about you nearly every night this week…

His good eye is set on you like a hunter when it’s about to get its prey. Your y/c hair is loose behind your back, your eyes are focused in the lines you read but he wonders what is the theme that makes you furrow your eyebrows. Your lips are partially open and Aemond easily sees his own clashing against yours in a long fervent kiss. But the man is patient.

The gown you dress is the first he gifted you, in the days of your courtship. Aemond is pleased to see you still keep it in your wardrobe. The gown shows some cleavage and shoulders, reinforcing your firm full breasts.

When staring at your heavy breathing, his own chest goes slowly up and down. His eyes devour your skin through the clothing, still keeping in his thought the moment your nipples go hard under his eager tongue.

When remembering how much you enjoy it, how you always sang louder the moment he took his time to suck each breast, a heat troubles his inner balance. His manhood gets lightly unbearable.

It’s time to move.

How many secrets can you keep? 'Cause there's this tune I've found that makes me think of you somehow and I play it on repeat until I fall asleep, spilling drinks on my settee…

Aemond recollects the first time he saw you. Finding a way to survive in Essos, your brother had plans to send you to serve Rh’llor whilst you considered piracy. You’ve always loved the sea, and there you’d content yourself when your path crossed his.

You knew nothing of his past, and yet you took him in. When love flourished, it took not much time.

Moved by this agony of spending too much of his time away from you, he wants you again. Using shadows on his favor, he is about to surprise you.

Aemond kneels behind you. Still focused in the reading, you do not notice he’s behind your chair. The prince is lightly amused at how this novel has stolen you from him.

“My lady, I am no poet, no bard, no man versed in the court of love, but I’d think by now you were missing me.”

Quickly, you stand, turning at him with joy. It’s been five years since he espoused you and the same joy is there whenever he comes back to your arms.

“I missed you, my husband! How could it not be? Oh Aemond, it’s been so long!”

He experiments that peaceful bliss he never thought he’d feel the moment his lips are welcomed by yours. It starts as a slow, passionate kiss, only then to be parted by you.

“I should have prepared our chambers to receive you better”, you say, ready to fetch a servant when he pulls you right in front of him.

“Why, I wanted to surprise my lady”, he smirks, resting his chin over your shoulder as his hands begin to pace around your waist. “You still have the gown I gifted you during our courtship.”

“Yes, I do”, you blush lightly, not expecting him to notice it.

“Looking gorgeous as always”, he whispers hotly in your ear, giving you goosebumps.

“Aemond…”, you smirk, wondering what’s to come. “I have some news to tell you.”

“Then tell me”, so he says as his tongue begins to draw lines from your earlobe to your jawline and neck, tightening the grip of your waist.

You try to focus, but when he gets to your neck, your leg automatically begin to rub in another and you giggle softly.

“Y-Your brother…”, you almost forget how to breathe the moment he rests a hand over your belly, moving up to your breast.

“Yes?”, he bites your neck softly, missing to feel your firm breast over his hand, but not taking it long now… not yet. “You were saying?”

You try to release yourself off his grip, about to get on fire, but Aemond is very domineering today. The hand on your back is now over your neck, holding it possessively. The way you like it.

“He is throwing a feast and a tournament…”, you get speechless the moment his lips are back at your neck and his right hand starts to lift the skirts of your gown.

“And…”, he smirks, encouraging you to speak as he defies you not to succumb easily into his teasings.

“And… Aemond!”, you hiss impatiently when feeling his hand on your thigh.

Aemond takes a seat and makes you sit on his lap. There is a fire that is about to burn you…and you want to get burnt. But you know it’ll be on his terms.

“Tell me, or I will stop.”

He smirks devilishly as you pout.

Do I wanna know if this feeling flows both ways (Sad to see you go) Sort of hoping that you'd stay. (Baby we both know) That the nights were mainly made for saying things that you can't say tomorrow day…

“The tournament is on…” you barely speak as he begins to tease you through your undergarments. Using his thumb to draw circles over it, you whimper, partially impatient.

“On?”

He pauses, amused as you frown at him.

“Either you tell me or I’ll stop, my dear. The punishment for ignoring me…” Aemond chuckles as you pout again.

“…on the next week”, and he resumes the touching, working his hands within you. “He wants to…. Oh, Aemond!… to celebrate his tenth year he is on the I-I-Iron Throne!”

Aemond chuckles to himself as you try to keep your composure the moment two fingers are inserted in your womanhood. He feels how soaked you are, enjoying the sounds you make as he stimulates you.

“Mm. What else?”, he asks in your ear, using his free hand to unlace your gown, aroused by your reactions.

“He wants you…”, and here you let out a poorly muffled cry the moment he increases his pace. “…to take part of the feast and… and be his champion! Oh bloody seven hells!”

As you throw your head back, the gown, now loose, begins to fall. Aemond stares at your denuded chest, biting his own bottom lip as your nipples are hardened under his lustful gaze.

“His champion?”, he helps you to straighten on his knee, despite the trouble to ignore the aching in his manhood.

“On the tournament!”, you moan indecently loud the moment he cups one boob with his free hand.

Aemond smirks at you. Oh how he loves these games he plays with you. He is a victor each time.

“Hmm. I shall consider the invitation”, he leaves more bruises in your skin, before whispering unspeakable things to your ear that makes you hot enough to burst into his hand.

And when he licks each finger before you, you almost go insane.

“Aemond!”, you turn at him, finally free of his grasp. You remove the gown off your body, rubbing yourself to his manhood as you settle your hips properly over his, hands eagerly removing his own clothing.

“Oh I haven’t finished with you yet, woman”, he groans as he lifts you and pulls you gently against the window. As you remain on your back to him, he kisses your neck and down to your back, before fingering you again.

“Lords, Aemond!”

And to your delightful surprise, his lips soon take place where his fingers have been. Now you settle the reins and gladly ride his face.

Crawling back to you… Ever thought of calling when you've had a few? 'Cause I always do. Maybe I'm too busy being yours to fall for somebody new. Now I've thought it through, crawling back to you…

But once again in bed he has you under his command again. Crawling over your body, he prepares to set his pace.

“I’ve been burning too long alone to let these flames go unescaped”, he whispers, touching himself right before you, until he leaves it to tease your entrance.

Aemond likes seeing you subduing to him. Even more when fire is indeed burning in such a level that makes you bed. And nothing arouses him more than seeing a prideful lady be turned into a beggar in… bed.

This is how he spreads your legs gently and, leaning his body to be closer to yours, the prince slowly thrusts in you.

“Have I been punished enough?”, you moan sensually, legs wrapped around his waist.

“Perhaps”, he smiles at you.

Only when your gazes meet, he softens.

“I’ve missed you”, and his lust is replaced by the genuine affection that has mirrored in your eyes. “A lot.”

“As have I”, you admit in short breath. “Very much, my rogue prince.”

Aemond smiles down at you, kissing your lips as your body and his finally move as one.

Simmer down and pucker up. I'm sorry to interrupt. It's just I'm constantly on the cusp of trying to kiss you. I don't know if you feel the same as I do but we could be together… If you wanted to.

Later, you feel his wide eyed gaze at you. With no patch to cover his bad eye, he is the way you like him to: himself, nude and crude.

“I am pleased to find your heart shut for me alone”, you muse after a moment spent in warming silence.

“How so?”

He turns at you, on his elbow. Aemond strokes your face gently, doing the same then to your hair.

“Are you still daunted by these insecurities?”

“At times I am. I fear to lose your affection”, you admit. “But this only happens when I’m sensitive.”

“You do not need to excuse yourself for me when I’m open like this before you, wife”, he presses a kiss over your forehead. “I admit I have my own demons to haunt. There are nights I wish I had not… survived.”

“How so, my love,”, you turn at him and he sees fear in your eyes.

“I wish I had not been the cause why such a war disrupted. There is no good in dwelling in the past, but if I must be open with my lady, then my remorse must be shared with you. This is what pains me in times where restlessness knocks me out. Not an old mistress.”

“I’m sorry for this”, you feel ashamed for the confession, but Aemond looks in peace with it.

“Don’t be. We are husband and wife, love. We are in this together. I love you and it’s your love that helps me with going through difficult times.”

That being said, he kisses your lips. Every doubt dies permanently at his passionate kiss.

[teardropvampire]

To give my thoughts on the fandom discussion of the handling of DID Mikoto/John's writing after the Double mv, I think my main frustration is just the somewhat black and white attitude many people have being viewing things with. In all honesty, I think the writing is complex situation that's a lot more then just 'good rep vs bad rep'. Instead, it almost could be better viewed through what the writing choices are attempting to explore/say about the character vs what ended up coming across to viewers? Its especially hard when we're only partially through the series, meaning a lot of your current opinion has to come from how strong your faith is in the series providing satisfying narrative conclusions to all the threads we've been presented with so far. But even then, I think its both fine to be uncomfortable with his portrayal or be satisfied with it - and that mixed reaction is generally what I've seen so far, particularly from viewers who are systems themselves. Its important for us singlets that we take into account the opinions of systems who are willing to comment on the character while also using our own critical thinking. Things seem to have been a lot better so far in that regard, which is great to see.

As for me personally? I have to say that I trust in the series to deliver nuanced and respectful writing. When you take a look at the series from a wider perspective, Mikoto and John's circumstances do tie into Milgram's exploration of societal issues in a way that I'd expect to be handled with care and empathy going forward. I feel the presentation of such flawed characters and the conflicts that can arise in our voting as a result of it can be applied to not just here but all the characters in at least some way. John isn't, and was never meant to be portrayed as purely antagonistic or monotonous, and I'm glad that idea has gotten more focus in this trial. This complex presentation of the cast's actions, as confronting as it often may be, have always been to help us understand and connect with the prisoners, rather than demonize them as foreign entities. This is particularly notable in Mikoto's case because of the divisive nature of mental health as a subject matter, but is definitely not the only occurrence of it in the series. However, Mikoto's case is definitely not perfect from a writing perspective and its important to be critiqued when necessary! Regardless of good intentions, trying to write a disability as complicated as DID will inevitably contain both steps forward and backwards. Although my opinion towards the handling of Mikoto's DID in this trial lean towards positive, It's completely justified to be uncomfortable with it and we should respect those who feel that way. But yeah, it's just slightly frustrating that I've seen people acting as if you need to decide between 'this is good rep, defend the series with your life' and 'this is bad rep, drop the series entirely'. Of course, learning to observe your own bias and look beyond restrained dichotomies of judgement has always been one of the series' main intent, so it's interesting in how it's shown itself again this time around. It'll be extremely interesting to see how both Mikoto and John are going to develop as characters going forward!

[traumacatholic]

I figured I would give a little update here about my housing situation. The good news is that my local Council have now formally awarded me the 'points' for being homeless. Which places me essentially in the top priority for housing, although I still have no time frame for when this would likely be.

The other housing agencies that I've applied for, have mostly all gotten back to me also assessing me as homeless. This again, increases my odds for getting a property + hopefully shortens the length of time. But again, none of these places can really offer me some kind of time frame. It really depends on whether new suitable properties get built in a reasonable time frame or current occupants move elsewhere.

I have a job interview today (31st January) and tomorrow (1st of February) which if I could get, would mean money coming in that would also open up the potential for exploring housing with private landlords.

The money people have donated I am going to be using towards the new place that I get (council housing and housing from a housing agency comes typically completely unfurnished whereas with a private landlord it really depends on the property, some come unfurnished, some come partially furnished, and others are fully furnished), whenever and in whatever form it arrives. As well as for making ends meet in terms of food + transport for now. When I get to a better and more stable position with housing and money coming in, I will work on giving people back their donations.

I would still really appreciate some prayers. Despite the good news, it's still very difficult mentally having to deal with everything that has gone on. And it especially hurts to be far away from my cat. The anxiety also of not knowing the time frame of things is also particularly challenging.

[kpopnstarwars]

Stay With Me: Din Djarin x Reader

A/N: we love us some whump

Warnings: injuries, blood, gore, swearing, angst, a helluva lot of crying, death, needles, idk what else lmfao,

Word count: <1200

Fuck, what had you been thinking?

Din himself had warned you against taking the job. He'd taken the time to explain to you all the ways you could get killed or kidnapped or left to die, and you'd taken it anyway, in hope that the money would get the dodgy engine of your ship fixed.

You should have known, Din is always right about this stuff.

Well, partially right, anyway. You did manage to get the bounty - you also managed to shove him in carbonite, although he's at a slightly awkward angle due to your current predicament. Gritting your teeth, you stumble towards the ladder leading to the cockpit and grab the top rung, heaving yourself up with pure arm strength - thank the Maker for the pull up bar Din helped you install. Your eyes water as the various slashes in your arms stretch open, and warm blood starts soaking into your ragged sleeves. Pulling yourself across the floor, grimacing at the red smear you leave behind you, you barely manage to sit up on your knees and stab the button which sets off the distress beacon. Flicking the switch to send a transmission, you wince and wave, aware of how your face must be smeared in blood.

'Hey, Din,' you stutter through your pain. 'I got the bounty, but I - ' You sway, just catching yourself on the pilot's chair. ' - I think I'm going to die.' Heaving yourself up a little, you lift up the hem of your shirt. 'I'm bleeding out, Din. If I - if I don't get to talk to you again, I - ' You wince as pain stabs through you. ' - I just want you to know, I care about you, a lot, and I'll miss it. Whatever we're calling it, I... I'll miss what we had, just between the two of us.'

Suddenly, black roils at the edges of your vision, and the world spins around you before you topple over, collapsing onto the floor.

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

Din's heart is pounding in his ears as he squeezes through the small space the ramp has made as it lowers, unwilling to wait for it to open fully. Sprinting across the landing bay, he catches sight of your ship and lengthens his stride, putting on a burst of speed at the memory of your words, forced out through your pain.

I think I'm going to die.

I think I'm going to die. I think I'm going to die. I think I'm -

He skids to a halt outside your ship, frantically typing your encrypted mish mash of letters and numbers into the panel by the ramp. Agonisingly slowly, it begins to hum open, and he reaches up and yanks it down, scrambling into your ship and almost tripping over a crate as he makes his way towards the cockpit, where he knows you'll be. There's drops of blood on the floor by the ladder, deep red dotting the metal, and two crimson handprints on the top rung. Fear shoots through him, cold and paralysing, but he doesn't let it delay him for long, not when your life is at stake.

He bursts into the cockpit.

You're lying on the floor, so still he almost thinks he's too late.

Dropping to his knees beside you, right into a pool of your own blood, he gently flips you over. His breath catches in his throat. Half of your torn tunic is soaked red, and his fingers tremble as he lifts it up, forcing himself to inspect the gaping wound for the sake of saving you. The skin around the edges is ragged, and he assumes it's got to be from some sort of jagged viroblade. Blood is still oozing from your wound, and he immediately applies pressure while he searches his memory for where the medkit is. Terror stabs at his heart; he can't let this happen, can't let you go, not when he could have prevented this by persuading you not to take the job.

'Stay with me,' he whispers, his voice cracking. 'Please. Please, I can't - '

Choking down a sob, almost unable to leave your side to get the medkit, he nearly falls down the ladder as he rips open the cupboard to his left and grabs it with shaking hands. Your name on his lips as he scrambles back up into the cockpit, he rips open the neat box of supplies and grabs the bacta shot, praying that he's not too late, that he can still save you.

Carefully, he steadies his shaking hands and lines the bacta shot up so the entry point will be just under your ribs. Biting back his panic, he pushes down the plunger, watching the bacta empty from the syringe. Once it's all gone, he pulls the needle out and drops it onto the ground beside him, desperately watching you for movement. He knows that he could still be too late - there's a certain period of time after a wound where you can apply a shot, but anything after that... well, you might as well be saying your goodbyes.

And he can't say his goodbyes, not with your sweet voice in his head, saying I'll miss it. Whatever we're calling it, I'll miss what we had, just between the two of us.

Not with your sweet voice saying, I care about you, a lot.

Not with his heart begging for you to live, because he needs to tell you how much he cares.

Needs to tell you he can't lose you.

Needs to tell you he loves you. So, so much.

You cough, weakly, and your eyes flutter open. Unable to make a coherent sound, he grabs you in his arms, cradling you to his chest and barely restraining himself from crushing you close to him. He leans the cold beskar of his helmet on your shoulder, his eyes squeezed shut underneath as salty tears drip down his face, shuddering sobs wracking his large frame as he clings onto you, revelling in how warm you are, how alive you are.

'Don't you ever fucking dare do that again,' he growls. 'You should have listened to me, you - you shouldn't have gone, don't ever, ever do that again. You scared me, you fucking scared me so much - '

One of your hands reaches up and presses against the cheek of his helmet. It doesn't matter that there's dried blood on your fingers, doesn't matter at all to Din, because you're alive. So he grabs your fingers and squeezes them, and with his head still buried in your shoulder, he tells you the truth, his voice ragged and broken.

'I love you,' he gasps. 'I love you, I love you, I love you.'

You close your eyes, one hand fisting in his cowl while you bury your face in his shoulder, engulfing yourself in his scent. 'Din, I'm sorry, I'm so s - sorry - ' You cut yourself off, arms locking around his neck as you stare right into his eyes as if the helmet isn't there. 'I love you too, Din. I love you.'

Din rests his forehead against yours, tears streaking down his cheeks, as he holds you in his arms, thanking the Maker that you're still with him.

[mysticalsoot]

mission sims and missing cues

a continuation of my self-indulgent boarding school au

A/N; i am so in love with this au.. I've got like two other fics for this ay in the works. lmk if yall want more of this-- totally did not expect this to be this long but I mean that's okay. also thanks to lilly and elliot for just being motivation to finish this-- and thank YOU for all the love on my writing cause holy fucking mother of gOD there's 110 of you now?? what??

summary; reader and wilbur are close friends and classmates but both have feelings for each other without the other knowing! they're thrown into a mission simulation together as commander and pilot and slight flirting ensues.

tw// swearing, maybe a smidge of suggestive flirting, definitely thoughts

words; 6.3k

pairings; cc!wilbur x gn!reader

pronouns; they/them and use of y/n!

masterlist

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You loved every part of your school, you loved the classes, the teachers, and the activities but you couldn't help but favor the Mission Simulations above all else.

They were the most laid-back part of your academics, and it was a hands on experience that you could have any part in. You had the opportunity to do anything and everything with positions and experience and outcome. 

Although you were truly partial to being commander, you didn't mind any other position you found yourself in. Missions usually spanned around a week but in sessions. First two sessions would be training, and test runs, the third session would start the first half of the mission running about three hours and then the second half would be in the fourth session. You absolutely adored how they did this and found you got the most out of it, a real feeling for the position and role you'd be in and you could make a decision on if you liked it or not—and if you wanted to try the same position on a different mission another time.

Today's session was the first half, a three-hour run of the school's Mars Mission Sim and you had gotten the commander position. Your pilot being Wilbur. He was rather ecstatic about his role, only been put in mission specialist or station roles before—he was excited to be front and center in the mission, though it didn't really matter, he was just excited for a change of pace.

"So, have you come up with a 'first human on Mars' speech or do you need me to come up with it?" Wilbur is snarky in a playful way in the tone he uses, tossing a hash brown into his mouth as he watches you from the other side of the cafeteria table. You roll your eyes at him and fold your arms over your chest.

"Well, no-" He cuts you off.

"Good! I've come up with one!" He starts by standing up in a grandiose manner, not paying mind to any of the students on other teams staring at him.

"One step for humankind, one great step for alien kind!" He makes exaggerated steps, only a few before your crew trainer, Andy, looks over at Wilbur with this gaze of 'please sit down or I'm telling Evan' and he's quick to find his seat back in front of you.

"You're one of my favorites Wilbur, but you should be in drama school," Andy scoffs, looking down at his tray before standing and walking away to take care of it. Your gaze follows him before landing back on Wilbur in front of you. His elbow rested on the table and his eyes look past you.

You hum, "He's right, you should've applied to drama school instead," Then you shrug, chuckling to yourself as Wilbur's gaze lands onto you, turned into a playful glare.

"And miss out on the opportunity to steal my brother's best friend away from him? Never." His eyes shine with a playfulness to them, and he smirks. 

"So I'm just a pawn?" You put your hand over your heart in mock offense, a smirk of your own curling on your lips.

"Oh yes, just a pawn," 

Andy finds his way back to his spot, and he opens his teacher's binder to check the schedule, "I don't want to know what you two are talking about, do I?" He doesn't look up as he adjusts his glasses and sifts through the different pages.

"Wilbur says I'm just a pawn," You tell him and Wilbur gawks at you, offended at how quickly you told on him.

Andy looks up and ahead and then at you and then back at Wilbur, eyebrows knitted together and concern glazing over his irises, "Pawn in what?"

"My master plan to steal them away from Tech," Wilbur speaks nonchalantly, his glare dissipating and turning into a look of pride.

Andy hums, looks over at Wilbur and says, "Good luck with that." His attention is brought back to his binder before checking the time on his phone. He begins ushering the team to finish up with their meal, take care of their trays and stand in front of the glass wall just a few feet behind you when they're done.

"First one to the wall gets to say the first words on Mars," Wilbur smiles at you, eyes glinting with mischief and you can tell by his body language, he's ready to sprint.

"Okay, fine," You shrug and let him get a head start, subtly speed-walking over to clean up his meal, and take care of his tray. Although, subtly isn't the most accurate descriptor, his legs are long enough all he has to do is take longer strides and he can beat you almost immediately. You take your time, walking normally and then speeding up for a second, but you're still behind. Wilbur looks behind him at you and frowns.

"Why are you walking?" He tilts his head at you, stopping in his tracks.

"I don't want to win," You shrug at him, taking a few steps forward and follow behind him in line.

"Why not?" He's still facing you, his back towards the front of the line and you both put the tray's on the counter, taking care of the dishes and trash and putting them in their respective spots. Plastics, paper, plates, utensils, etc.

"Everyone will hear me and only a drama queen like yourself should get to say it," You smile lightly at your own comment, and you're out of line a moment later. You both stand by the exit of the short hall, the glass wall a few feet away from you both.

"You're such a pussy," He smiles and shakes his head as he runs off over to the glass wall, and you follow, yelling after him.

"Wilbur!" You grumble as you follow him, hot on his heels and of course, he's the first at the wall, his hand pressed against the glass and he sticks his tongue out at you, "You can't say that!"

He smirks, leaning down closer to your face teasingly and your breath hitches in your throat, "And why not?" 

You huff, moving to stand against the wall next to him instead of in front of him. You fold your arms over your chest and tilt your head up to meet his eyes, an annoyed glare filling your own, "You could get us both in trouble with that language, mister."

He leans down again, "Doesn't sound like a horrible idea, at least we'll be in trouble together," He smirks slightly, attempting to avert your attention from how pink his cheeks are, and how nervous his breath is.

"Wilbur," You warn, poking his chest and he giggles, leaning against the glass wall with you as you both wait for the rest of your team to meet you.

The rest of the kids take their time with meeting everyone else at the glass wall, both you and Wilbur growing anxious at how long it was taking. You tilt your head forward to look down the line for Tommy, making sure he isn't causing any mayhem too great for Andy. And then you lean back when you see he's just talking with his friends.

It seems that both you and Wilbur found yourselves at the front of the line, the rest of your classmates assumingly lining behind you both as a buffer between them and their crew trainer. To keep Andy from hearing the things they say, probably. He's heard it all from you and Wilbur, so he's far from bothered by whatever stupid thing one of you may say next.

It's a few moments and then he's at the front of the line, leading the hoard of kids down the ramp and around the corner in front of the training room. As per usual, only you and Wilbur are the ones in a proper line and it doesn't surprise anyone. Everyone else could care less and it didn't bother you or Will to speak to each other without facing one another. Plus, if anyone got in trouble for taking up too much space, at least it wouldn't be you or him.

Andy stops the group at the fence blocking off the training room and he tells everyone to stay put as he leaves to go into the back and talk to the trainers running today's mission. You and Wilbur decide to take a spot by the wall, and sit on the floor. You're squeezed up against him slightly, the rest of the group causing you both to get a bit squished. You do your best to hide the red that begins to crawl up your cheeks, looking away from him in hopes he won't notice. He does the same, without you knowing. Both of you are desperately trying to hide any inkling at the feelings you both harbor for one another. Letting that truth through creates vulnerability and being jokingly flirtatious is easy. It can be brushed off as a playful platonic joke. So why not be flirty and break your own hearts at the thought of unrequited feelings?

"You think they trained us enough?" Wilbur breaks the deafening silence with a playful question, mouth quirking up into a half smile, half smirk. His eyes glint with something you can't quite place.

You huff a laugh, "Do you think you paid attention enough?" You turn your head to face him, smile soft but mischievous. You lean against the wall, trying to subtly slink yourself a bit away from him. You don't really want to be away from him and his touch, but it makes you nervous and you don't want to make him uncomfortable. But you don't move, you can't make it obvious. He doesn't mind the touch either, but he too fears the possibility of making you uncomfortable.

"Hm, I think I have a decent grasp on the concept. It's just button pressing and reading lines, right?" Wilbur nudges your shoulder with his, a soft laugh of his own rolling off his lips, ones held in a smirk.

"Oh, you think it's that simple, pretty boy?" You try your best to hide the pink of your cheeks, plotting a response if he asks. For a brief moment he simply looks at you, mouth slightly agape before he shuts it, bringing back his previous smirk.

"Well, that's what it seemed to be, so I'd say it's pretty simple," He brushes past the use of the pet name and he looks away, a nervous smile replacing the smirk as he looks down at his lap. Oh, he's infatuated and dear god—he wanted nothing more than to fall out of love, out of the feelings he felt. They weren't reciprocated, and any point he may have thought they were, could easily be shut down by the excuse of playful jokes.

"Well, we'll see about that," You push up to stand, catching your eye on Andy and another trainer walking over to the team. He makes the motion to move along and follow him with his hand and so you jump to stand behind him, Wilbur following suit.

The group is led around the corner and into the mission control room. Everyone's instructed to put their backpacks and whatnot on the table far behind the rows of desks. Both you and Wil put yours down on the far end, next to each other's and your shoulders brush together when the rest of the group pushes towards you both. You try to shuffle backwards, but hit the wall that separates the rest of the room to the trainer's desk. Wilbur puts his hand on the small of your back, and guides you to stand in front of him when you get startled by the wall. He rests his hands on either side of your upper arms. You know you're blushing, you know it's obvious but you just hope he doesn't see or doesn't care or doesn't notice and—

"Alright, Andromeda, everyone split into your groups of who goes where and a space ghost will lead you out to your positions, alright?" Andy speaks over the loud conversations of everyone in the group, his hands cupping around his mouth to somehow assist in making his voice louder and heard.

You and Wilbur stay in your place, Tommy, Ash, Niki and James join you both in your corner. Tommy starts chattering about his position and Wilbur is quick to shush his younger brother, and Tommy grumbles in response, crossing his arms and huffing.

The six of you are silent as you await instructions, and another trainer comes over to your group, muttering something about following her and so you do, you first, Wilbur behind and then the rest in a clump behind him. It's barely a few feet around the corner to the capsule. The trainer walking in first, ducking in through the doorway. She stands over to the corner, letting the rest of you walk in and find your seats. Wilbur attempts to duck down but still manages to bump his head, holding back a few obscenities that would definitely get him in trouble.

You chuckle at the sight and he keeps his head ducked down as he finds his spot at his seat. He buckles in the best he can, and then the trainer tells him off, reminds him he has to put his suit on first. He grumbles to himself, and turns around out of his chair and joins the rest of you as you put on the white painters jumpsuits over your normal clothes. Light costume astronaut boots being put on your feet and velcroed in.

You look over at Wilbur and catch your eye on him as he struggles, trying to get his sleeves to pull down all the way, same with his pants legs. You huff a laugh at the sight, "Don't worry about it," You shake your head at him and adjust his collar, hands lingering on his chest before pulling them away to rest at your sides.

His eyes go wide in a playful way, lips curling into a slight smirk, trying to hold some semblance of a fearful gaze, "I could die, y/n!" 

You huff a laugh, turning away from him and sitting in your commander's seat, him following and sitting in the seat opposite you, "You, die? Yeah you're too stubborn for that," You open the small binder you were given and review it as you wait for the signal to start, a clarification from every position that they too are ready.

Wilbur follows suit and you swear you see him gaze at you from the corner of your eye. You smile softly and pretend you don't notice, "Wilbur?"

He hums, looking up from his book for a moment and he looks to you, a quizzical look on his features, "Yes?"

You nod your head towards the comms, "Joe asked for confirmation from you, pilot,"

"Oh!" Wilbur rushes to put his headset on, and presses the speak button, "Roger that SOCOM," He rests his head back against the headrest, sighing.

"Alright, I'll leave you guys to it. Remember the call buttons if you need anything at all, okay?" The crew trainer assigned to the Orion capsule then leaves out the door, being sure to get a verbal confirmation or a thumbs up from each of you.

"You'll do fine, Wilbur," You reassure him, going about various procedures, buttons and switches being turned on or off. Codes being entered and lines of numbers and codes being typed out on the screen.

"You think so?" His voice shakes, unsure of himself as he flips switches along with you, referencing his binder every few seconds.

You nod, "I know so," It's all you need to say as you press the last few buttons before the computer switches the simulation to launch. Voices muffled in your ear as you focus intently on what's needed to do next, when you get into Altair.

It's a few minutes of launch and then the program switches to a screen showing the stars and planets passing by. More switches need flipping and more buttons need pressing. You glance over to your right at Wilbur, his eyebrows knitted in concentration and anxiety. His finger skims the lines of words and instructions in his binder.

"You alright there, Wil?" You put down your book, keeping your eyes locked on him.

"Uh, yeah, fine, fine," He keeps his gaze locked on the pages before him. 

You revert your gaze back to your own work, still checking on him in the corner of your eye every once and a while. Everyone in the capsule was ahead of schedule, all buttons pressed and switches flipped so all you had to do now was respond to Mission Control and wait for docking. Wilbur's leg had started to bounce by this point and he was biting his tongue. His hands kept running through his hair and he seemed oddly stressed for a simple simulation. If you could stand up and walk over to him, you would. But you're buckled in (more like strapped in since there were no buckles and both you and Wilbur were insistent that you were secure in your seats), you couldn't unbuckle yourself and walk over to him, risking an unnecessary anomaly.

So, you reached your hand over to his shoulder, having to lean to your side to even reach him in the first place. His head shot up to look at you, eyebrows creased in a wrinkling worry and mouth drawn in a thin line. 

"Are you okay?" It was merely a whisper, only meant to be heard by you and him. It was intimate and private and your eyes were soft as they looked into his. He didn't know what to do with himself, the amount of care you showed him was overwhelming. His heart racing with anxiety and nervousness.

His face flushed pink, "Yes-"

You cut him off, tapping his leg that bounces and hits the console a few times with how lanky he is, "Your leg says otherwise," You smile softly to him, the softness matching your gaze.

"I'm okay," He tries looking away, up at the screen and he watches the digital stars. The white dots scattered on black in the monitor before him.

You rub his shoulder gently, "Can't help if you don't tell me what's wrong."

He sits there, fidgeting with his hands in his lap, eyes closing shut and a deep breath being taken, and then his head turns to face you, "What if I mess it all up?"

You smile, shaking your head, "That's not possible, I promise you won't," You pat his shoulder gently, soft and assuring smile held on your lips.

"What if I press the wrong button? Or don't get secured well enough? Or what if I mess up the O2 transfer, or--"

You cut him off, squeezing his shoulder gently. Mission Control is sure to be watching this all, but most are probably running around chasing someone so the thought isn't bothersome to you or Wilbur. The camera can't catch the light pink tinted on either of your cheeks anyways.

"I'll be right there to help, you're not alone. It's a job for both of us, if one of us goes down we both do. Triumphantly," Your thumb rubs over his shoulder, back and forth in a manner of comfort and consolation.

"They need their commander more-" 

You shake your head, "They need their pilot too," When the closeness is overwhelming, you back up, ruffling up his hair and finding your spot back in your seat, "Now, relax and ask MOCR if they're like, dead yet."

Wilbur smiles, wider now and he shakes his head with a light chuckle.

"Part of me hopes they're dead."

"Wilbur!" You scold him, smiling wide. The rest of the Orion crew is in their own world, not paying mind to you and Wilbur's bickering.

"Okay, not Joe, the rest though--" He cuts himself off with a giggle and presses the speak button on his coms box, "Mission Control, how is it over there?"

There's a crackle in your headphones and Joe speaks over the mic, "What do you think, Wilbur?"

"Ey, it's Pilot to you," Wilbur, while speaking with a stern tone, is smiling wide. Joe huffs and a scream is heard muffled behind him, "How bad?"

"Zombies, Wil, zombies," Joe sounds tired, exasperated and he leaves his mic on accidentally and there's a shuffle heard and more yelling.

"ZOMBIES??" Tommy yells and the entire capsule bursts out laughing, you, Ash, Wilbur, James, Niki-- Tommy just stands there oblivious as you all listen to the chaos in Mission Control.

"I didn't know there were zombies," Niki speaks up, giggling and sifting through her own guide book.

"I hope at least Mark survives," James then pipes up, and shrugs.

"What about the rest?" You ask him, turning in your chair to look back at him.

"Eh, they can get eaten alive," Everyone's heads spin to look at him and James simply shrugs.

"James!" You scold him, "You are both children," You look between both James and Wil as you speak and then you turn back to face the screen in front of you.

The speaker crackles again, "Docking is in five minutes, Orion," Joe sounds out of breath as he speaks, "You're on your own for now, half of my crew is dying,"

"Thank God," James mutters and Ash smacks his shoulder.

"James! Your mic is on!" Ash glares at his friend, huffing.

"Yeah, that's the point,"

Joe grumbles and his mic cuts off, now no longer any inkling as to what's happening in Mission Control, the six of you sit in silence, waiting for docking to complete.

"I don't want to jinx it--" Tommy begins speaking but he's then cut off by the rest of you yelling;

"NO!" in unison.

And then he draws his mouth in a thin line and crosses his arms, puffing his chest.

Silence blankets the air, and then a clicking is heard through the loudspeakers.

"Docked!" Ash calls out and Wilbur instructs everyone to unbuckle and follow you through to Altair. You crawl through the 'airlock' door between yours and Wil's stations and slip into the Altair capsule. Wilbur follows you, bumping his head on both sides of the airlock and then again when he stands. You giggle at him as you shuffle to find all the mic boxes and helmets and set them aside for landing.

"I'm not sure how you passed the first Astronaut evaluation-- You're much too tall for this job," You playfully poke at Wilbur and he rolls his eyes, finding his spot at the front of the room, by another control board. He puts on his headset, gesturing for you to do the same and then the rest of your crew all files into the capsule.

"They needed someone decently charismatic," He smirks smugly, looking through his guidebook again, landing on the page for Altair arrival and he begins the usual routine of button presses and switches.

"You? Charismatic? Yeah, no, they just felt bad for you," You chuckle to yourself, and he drops his hands from the control board in front of him, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall next to him, his eyes locked on you.

"You are so mean to me," He shakes his head, eyes still on you and your cheeks dusted pink. You averted your gaze from him, down at the control board.

"All in a day's work," You shuffle through your own book, pressing buttons and entering codes.

"Stop flirting, you two," James chirps up, rolling his eyes and messing with the screen in the far back.

You both turn bright red, focusing your gazes heavily on the control board in front of you, doing your best to ignore the words from your friends mouth. Tommy, Ash and Niki, find their own spots on the floor against the wall--James is too stubborn to join them and determined to stand as long as he needs to before landing.

"James, just sit," Niki is stern and pats the spot next to her. James looks over, watching her and shaking his head.

"I'm fine up here, Niki," He looks through his own guidebook now, nothing new for him to do.

"Alright, well, suit yourself," Niki shrugs, looking across at Tommy and Ash and striking conversation with them both.

You continue glancing over at Wilbur, his eyes intently focused on screens and buttons and words typed on a page. His face contorted into a focused gaze and it's endearing. Watching him so focused, working in a way. He's in his element--while you can't deny he's meant for music, something about him being in this STEM environment fits. A leadership role. If you weren't so bad at communication and speaking clearly, you would've immediately opted for Pilot--Commander was simply made for him. But then again, so was the position of speaking and commanding and communicating--and wow, he's so pretty. 

A few stray curls fall onto his forehead as his head tilts down to get a closer look at a separate screen, finger running over the words next to the O2 symbol. He's rolled up the sleeves on his jumpsuit, and he's stuffed a pen he grabbed, in his hair on top of his ear. 

You catch yourself staring and look away before he can notice, and when you look back at your crew, they all look away as if they were staring too. Probably at you, and most likely going to gossip later. You huff and squeeze through to the back, grabbing helmets and mic sets, handing one by one to each person. James first, since he's closest to you, then Niki, then Ash and lastly Tommy. He huffs, mumbling something about how he's obviously your least favorite. Which isn't true by any means, but the child insists.

And then you hand Wilbur his, and he nods to you, a curt smile on his lips in thanks. Your stomach flips and your cheeks burn but you shake it away.

A few more moments and Mission Control comes through the coms again, Joe sounding stressed and out of breath, "Landing procedure will begin shortly, please put your helmets on and secure your suits. Thank you," And then his voice cuts out again and Wilbur shrugs before pressing his coms button, responding with a short 'roger that'.

All of you begin readjusting your suits and hooking up your comms. Wilbur rolls his sleeves back down and to you that's slightly disappointing--but it's better than him 'dying' so you suck it up for the sake of the mission. James struggles with his helmet, grumbling and Niki giggles, helping him slide it on and secure it around his collar. He mutters something about it being stupidly difficult but you can't entirely hear. Your focus is on the boy in front of you, stumbling with his comms box as he clips it onto his belt and then he puts on his own helmet. Yours has already been put on and is perfectly adjusted. You'd be a liar if you said your suit was too small--it was much too long. So you had to roll the sleeves and pants legs to make it so you didn't trip. 

Wilbur struggles with the collar, fidgeting with it to get it to sit right, over the lip of his helmet. You hum, walking over to him, "Need any help?"

He nods, "Dear god, yes."

You smile softly and help flatten his collar and pull it up over the lip of his helmet. You fasten it in the back after ushering him to turn around and kneel a bit so you can reach. He turns around after you pat his back, facing you and smiling softly. Your hands linger on his chest for a moment, fingers messing with the edges of his collar to put it in its final place.

Wilbur speaks up, "Thank you," He smiles softly and you pull your hands away, eyes looking away and face turning a light pink.

"Anytime there, Wilbur," You turn to face the control panel, flipping the final switches before you all get the okay to step out.

Wilbur steps out first, freezes and mumbles "Mars, a new frontier," and the entire crew bursts into fits of giggles--Wilbur included.

You walk up to him, pat him on the shoulder and look up at him, smirk pulling at the corner of your mouth, "You regret making that deal, yet?"

He looks back to you, eyes wide with anxiety, "Perhaps," and he ushers you to the dome base just a few steps aside. You step through, the rest of your crew following like a line of ducklings. You all get settled in at your stations, familiarizing yourself with where things are and what things do what. 

It's calm and quiet, just waiting on further instructions from Mission Control when you and Wilbur decide waiting is for the weak. You both head out the door, over to Altair and begin oxygen transfer.

The plan is simple: connect the hoses to the oxygen tanks, begin the transfer at the computer and move it over to the base and repeat. It's a two person job, one manning the computer and the other with the tanks. There's a computer inside the base for transferring the O2 onto the base from Altair.

"So, I'll go on computer?" Wilbur asks as you both stop outside the doors to the dome, you look up at him. Eyes soft and you nod.

"That was our plan, right?" You smile smugly and Wilbur rolls his eyes, walking off and into Altair. You get the hoses connected and then Wilbur yells out;

"Ready?"

"Ready!" Your reply is loud, enough for him to hear but to not bother anyone else in the simulation room.

There's a simulated sound of hissing and the O2 transfers, a few moments pass and then you switch to the base and repeat everything you just did but in reverse, to empty it into the base's reservoir.

As you wait for the O2 to empty out, your mind begins to run off on its own accord. Wondering about Wilbur, if he's noticed any of your nervous glances, or the way your cheeks turn pink or red when he smiles--how you stared at him at his first volleyball game a few weeks back. Your dad told you off with a laugh--but it was hard to look anywhere but him. Anywhere but his ar-

You cut your thoughts short, bringing yourself back to reality when the O2 shuts off, and then you drug it back over to Altair. You looked around and noticed Wilbur wasn't in sight, nowhere near the base or by the computer--maybe he was inside of Altair, at the computer, waiting for you. You dropped the key to the O2 tanks and walked around the corner, sneaking into the door of Altair. No sign of the lanky nerd called Wilbur--you groaned in annoyance, hitting your head on the air lock opening when you stepped into the lander.

You shuffled yourself over to the computer, pressing a few buttons to get the transfer ready and you went back out; connected the tanks and went back in to press the final button for this transfer.

It was merely a waiting game as you patiently awaited the transfer to complete--if you were honest it was more impatient than anything, but no one needs to know that. You got bored, and partly frustrated and so you walked off while the tank filled and you went into the base.

"Okay, has anyone seen my Pilot? He's went missing and it's really difficult to transfer these," You wave your hands in frustration, "these, tanks!"

Tommy scoffs, Niki giggles and Ash closes the plexiglass door to the solitary bed James is laying in.

"Haven't seen him, sorry," Niki is the first to speak, going about her business grabbing medications and other things and handing them off to Ash.

"Not even an inkling?" 

"Nope," They all answer you at once, shaking their heads or shrugging. James' nope is muffled behind the plexiglass.

You groan and turn on your heels, dramatically exiting out the double doors. You drag yourself back into Altair, shutting off the transfer and continuing your previous routine, desperately looking for Wil as you do so.

"Y/n! I found it!" The familiar accent breaks through and you turn around to face him, a wide smile plastered on his lips and a small Mars Rover in his arms. He holds it up, smile still wide and warm.

"So that's where you disappeared off to?" You smile back, so soft and partially teasing. You fold your arms over your chest.

He nods wildly, "Yup! I'm gonna go fix it, I'll be right back out to help, okay?" Wilbur begins walking off and into the base, you chuckle to yourself shaking your head.

"You better, Wil!" You call back, desperately trying to hide the fluttering in your chest and the pink on your cheeks. There's no evident reason for your reaction other than just…him.

A few moments later and he's back out of the base, letting it loose on the floor and walking over to you. He pats your shoulder and slips into the lander, his legs sticking out for a few moments before he pulls himself all the way in. An ouch is heard along with a bang and you giggle.

"I'm okay!" He yells out, and you shake your head.

"It's already done, Wilbur!" You call out, the four words having been delayed by you until he got into the lander--just to mess with him.

You hear him huff and then slink out of the lander airlock. He takes a few steps down the ladder and walks over to you, "I dislike you right now," He holds a fake frown on his features, but his eyes are soft.

"Dislike is a strong word there, Gold," You smirk, arms folding over your chest again and eyes looking up, locking on his.

"Hm, it fits," He shrugs and turns on his heel, walking over to the satellite board, he stops and looks back at you, "Can you get the box underneath the medical bed? We need the pieces to fix this," If you didn't know better, you would've sworn he heard your thoughts back in Orion--maybe he did.

"I don't remember your role being commander?" You walk over to him, leaning against the board, a wave of confidence shooting through you.

"Might as well be," His lips curling into a smirk as he speaks, soft and quiet, "I'm better at taking lead, aren't I?"

This fucker-- You scoff, smirking to yourself and walking off into the base. You rub your hands on your face in an attempt to rid your cheeks of its burning redness and James looks over to you--

"Did you not notice how miserable I am? Or are you too busy with-" Ash yells at him, smacking the plexiglass before James could finish his remark.

"No-- sorry, both our mics are broken so we're pretty out of the loop," You mumble and kneel down to grab the box into your hands, "you dying or something?" 

"Yes!! I am!" James' tone is sharp and everyone giggles at his words, "Hey! Come on guys! That's what the Space Ghost told me!" 

Ash shakes his head, "No! They said you're having a severe allergic reaction, not dying."

James groans, throwing himself back on the bed flat, "I wish I was dying!" 

You laugh, shaking your head, "Alright, well don't treat him, Niki," and you walk out, box in hand.

You walk over to Wilbur, dropping the box in front of him and then putting your hands on your hips, "There you go, Commander, happy now?" 

He smirks, "Why yes I am, thank you," He leans down to open it and take out a few pieces, handing a good half of them to you and you huff, rolling your eyes.

"This power is getting to your head-- You're not even Commander," You start to place the pieces one by one in the way the instructions sheet requires-- it's not detailed instructions by any means. It's more or less an example of what it should look like which is plenty for you and Wilbur to go off of.

"Well, I might as well be. I thought you liked this?" His face never falls from the cocky smirk he holds, some sort of confidence of his own surging through his body. He looks over at you briefly, eyes locked down onto yours. "Me being in charge and all?"

Your eyes went wide and you hoped you were hallucinating-- or maybe daydreaming-- or maybe this was a dream. But you figured with how real it felt, your senses being in tact--that this was real. You felt your cheeks burn bright red and you simply stared, hand going limp and the piece of this big puzzle in your hand, falling and crashing into the box.

"I saw you staring, that's all," He smirks and shakes his head, moving along with his part of the puzzle and you swore you could see him blush too--

The thought is cut short when a Space Ghost comes out of the Mission Control room, ushering everyone to stop their roles for a moment and that we'll pick up where we left off next session. You silently thank the gods for this interruption-- keeping Wilbur from getting too cocky and you catch him wink at you as he follows the rest of the group into Mission Control.

Next session will be the death of you.

taglist; @sleepyburs @lillylvjy (just send me an ask or dm if you want to be added!)

[builtaworldwithyourlove]

I Forget Where We Were

1.1k / joel miller x f!reader / MINORS DNI

summary: life with Joel from the start. Be kind please- this is my first piece and has taken 6 months of courage🤍

Chapter One: Small Things

Has the world gone mad or is it me?

what to expect: the first time you see Joel, something changes in you and in the air. Joel makes it known that he has had his heart set on you.

warnings: bad language i guess idk?😂fluff, dad!joel,gym goer reader, no specific physical description of reader, female reader (please let me know if there is anything I’m missing, I will elaborate as the series goes on but for now this is basic and just aww) no outbreak, age gap (reader is mid 20s and Joel is mid 40s), kinda cheesy joel, previous hurt and potential trauma for reader.

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

6am. The sun breaks through the curtains and your eyes begin to strain as you stir. The new week, Sunday reset mantra just isn’t as fun on Monday. You sighed,rolled over, put your slippers on and dragged yourself to the bathroom. Teeth brushed, skincare applied and hair claw clipped.

You make your bed to resist the temptation of curling up again. New ,white, crisp sheets, with the sun caressing it delicately and your childhood teddy propped up watching you flitter through the apartment gathering your gym bag, probably thinking bitch be for real.

Once you’re dressed in your favourite charcoal grey gym set, you make your coffee, spray yourself in vanilla mist and say your mantra. This mantra isn’t orthodox, but you believe it channels your inner ferocity: ‘Dress up, show up and may the possibility of a DILF keep you driven’

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

You slide into your car, windows down and sunglasses on, blasting your favourite motivational music. When you finally arrive at the gym, you notice the truck ‘Miller Contracting’. Sure, you’ve seen this before, although it catches your eye today. But only when you realise the obnoxiousness of the owner and how they parked parallel to the entrance barrier and you have to breathe in and hope your car fits through.

The positive mindset wobbles as you roll your eyes and huff. Remember the dilfs, you think.

As you saunter through reception, you smile and wave at Jesse who unlocks the turnstiles for you to enter the fitness suite. You make your way to the treadmill and notice they are all in use. A man, tall and broad, and irritatingly wearing a t-shirt which matches the badge on the truck. How can a man so hot, park so awfully? You chuckle to yourself and take a deep breath as you rethink your workout.

As you make your way to your quickly thought up gym routine,his head turns and he smirks to himself, feeling pretty smug that he still knows when you’ll pop up, and even more intrigued when he smells your vanilla aura and the hint of attitude.

You’ve only been at this gym a few months since moving to the area, but the first session did not go by unnoticed. He was fascinated by you. You always had an air of determination and independence, you seemed to know what you wanted and he wanted to be part of you. He noticed the partially healed wounds within your heart and the vulnerability in your eyes. Today was the day. He felt it.

He hopped of the treadmill and you noticed he was approaching as you looked behind you through the mirrored wall. You were only stretching but you got up to rack the machine. He lurched in to lift the 25kg plate that someone had left on. ‘Let me get that for you little lady, would hate to see you lift a finger whilst I watch you’ he drawled. A voice smoother than velvet and eyes dripped in honey. His hair fell to the nape of his neck and you thanked the universe for the man’s act of kindness, which you took as an act of forgiveness for parking like a douche.

‘Thank you. I’m still learning but I know it’d end in tears if I attempted to shift that weight’ you responded. Awkward. So damn awkward.

He laughed and your heart imploded after skipping a beat, when he put his hand to his chest and flexed his arm to wipe a bead of sweat from his forehead.

You exchanged niceties as you decided to boldy workout as he followed you like a lost puppy, not wanting to lose your interest. As if that would happen. You were hooked. This was what you wanted. You were suprised when he asked if he minded him talking to you, he didn’t want you to think he was a creep, but you were open to making friends. Especially when they are Joel Miller shaped friends, as you discovered his name with a delicate handshake. He held your fingers as if they were a rare treasure, and looked down at them, up your torso, and up to your doe eyes. The ignition to the flame.

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

45 minutes of small talk passed, mainly comprising of you being new to the area, his daughter who just turned 8, and his asshole brother Tommy who insisted on driving them to the gym to drool over the new pilates instructor. Joel politely declined this brotherly bonding, and boy, did this pay off.

As you cooled down, Joel went to get showered and changed, and you then bumped into him in reception, to be met with him holding two coffees.

‘I heard your coffee order last week. So here you go. I promise I wasn’t stalking, but I replayed this scenario all weekend’ you gulped and blushed, looking deep into his soul as you scrambled for any word to say. ‘Shit, I’m sorry. Too much?’ Joel added, to break the silence after his outburst Wow. What a cliche. Leisure centre romance, an ‘I saw you but you never noticed me’ type situation.

It worked for you. You didn’t mind. He was gorgeous. And kind.

‘Joel, it’s fine. I love the coffee, I’m single, and maybe if you can find the words, we can see eachother outside of this?’

‘JOEL! Two words:pilates ass!’ here’s the asshole brother you thought, as Tommy’s voice boomed through the corridors.

He guided Joel out the doors with his arm hooked over Joel’s shoulder. Before he could agree to a first date, he was gone.

Defeated, you went back to your car, and drove off. Fate would have it that you sat next to Joel and Tommy at the traffic lights. You tried not to make eye contact, but you couldn’t resist as you turned over your shoulder and Joel meet your gaze with a clenched jaw and a wink, as he adjusted himself in the passenger seat. Tommy raised an eyebrow at his brother, then looked and caught your eye, as his jaw dropped as he whipped round to Joel and smacked down on his thigh, laughing in disbelief. Joel rolled his eyes and ran his hand over his mouth and through his beard.

You smiled, winked and waved. Feeling bold and flirtatious, and full of a hurricane of butterflies. This was it. Something shifted in you. The possibility of a new person in your life no longer forbode 2am anxiety waiting for a text. Your feet no longer ached in anticipation of walking on eggshells as they raise their voice and slam doors, then wipe your tears saying they are the only one capable of loving you.

Instead, the prospect of love was early mornings, coffee for two, selflessness, protection and a life where two puzzle pieces slot in perfectly.

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

As you pulled up to your apartment, you laughed incredulously. Have you gone crazy? Are you suddenly in a Hallmark movie? The punchline of a cruel joke where you believe the trials and tribulations have paid off and now you’ve found what you deserve?

If only you knew. All you deserve, everything beautiful and harmonious has arrived. All these small things,they gather round and you have manifested the start of a life where you are praised and cared for.

Next Chapter

Please let me know if you loved! My inbox, asks and submissions are open- my door is always open🩵

Please let me know if you want to be added to a tag list🤍

[sophieinwonderland]

A new hate blog is on the scene: Meet @no-context-endogenics

The DNI is rich when your whole blog is dedicated to witch-hunting and calling out endogenic systems by name. But let's see if this blog is even living up to its own name.

Here's the first post on their blog:

First... literally have no idea what's wrong with this. But second... Let's take a quick look at the pinned of this system they targeted.

Literally a traumagenic system.

IN THE FIRST POST OF THIS BLOG!

To be fair, they did post to the endogenic tags, but a lot of pro-endo traumagenic systems do when users like this make them feel unsafe in traumagenic spaces.

Right... which is why you posted the previous traumagenic system on your no-context-endogenics blog that claims to be about posting endos! 🙄

Also, I can't tell... are you lumping in mixed origin systems with "endos" here? It seems like you are, because the blog has a tendency of posting mixed origin systems too when it claims to be posting endos, as well as ones that just don't state their origins. Because many mixed origin systems do, in fact, have a disorder and are very public about it.

For example...

Mixed origin, polyfragmented DID system.

(Also, runs some of the coolest and most important plural blogs on Tumblr.)

Another post on this blog, which I'm not including here, was from a 14-year-old polyfragmented c-DID system. That system didn't say if they were endogenic or traumagenic, but I think it's safe to assume that they were most likely at least partially traumagenic.

And no, I think systems that harm the community definitely deserve hate. People who are out there calling out systems, fakeclaiming them, implicitly fakeclaiming trauma, bullying, etc.

But systems who are just existing as endogenic... sorry... we aren't your scapegoat.

I generally try to be nice with these. At least relatively.

But I'm going to fail this time.

You. Are. Pathetic.

All of you.

Endogenic systems have NOTHING to do with why systems are fakeclaimed. Do you want to know why systems are fakeclaimed? It's because systems... are weird. We are. We're a step too far from the norm and the average neurotypical singlet can't comprehend multiple existing in the same body together.

That makes us easy targets. And we should be standing together. We should be supporting each other.

But people like you are only interested in tearing us down because you're too cowardly to put the blame for your fakeclaiming on the actual fakeclaimers.

You want to talk about ruining the community, but you fakeclaim other systems. You hurt other systems. Including traumagenic DID systems. Because you're miserable and you have to inflict your misery on others to make yourselves feel better.

Have you ever been to Fakedisordercringe?

Because let me tell you, the people who get fakeclaimed there aren't usually fakeclaimed for being endogenic. Yes, of course they're anti-endo. But many who are targeted are traumagenic DID systems and it has nothing to do with endogenics at all.

Although... I guess that also applies to the @no-context-endogenics too, doesn't it? I mean, out of every post there, I think this might be the only one that's actually purely endogenic. (Not mixed origins, unknown or explicitly traumagenic.) Most of the blog is just Fakedisordercringe-style posts targeted at trauamagenic DID systems.

Minor bodied? Minor bodied with over 200 headmates? Using the word "headmates?" OSDD-1b? Fictive heavy? Undertale fictives?

The cringe subreddits would gobble you all up in a heartbeat.

And you know what the most incredible part of this is???

You're supporting them!

You give them the moral justification they need. You support this ridiculous narrative that there are these groups who are causing DID to not be taken seriously by... existing... often, in the case of most endogenic systems, not even claiming to have a disorder in the first place. Just... being plural.

And you give the okay for these singlets to feel morally justified in attacking and fakeclaiming systems just like your own.

You are EVERYTHING wrong with the system community.

You're the reason systems fear expressing themselves online or in public. The reason fakeclaiming is so rampant. You contribute to this toxic environment of fear and paranoia in system spaces.

You're not defending the system community.

YOU ARE THE ONES RUINING THIS COMMUNITY!

You're just a bunch of cyberbullies.

And the same goes for anybody supporting you too.

(And before anybody takes issue with me posting this when two of the bullies acting as admins for the blog are minor-bodied, I'm just going to remind you again that another one of their posts which I didn't share here targeted a 14-year-old polyfragmented DID system, so I really don't care about the ages of the bullies in the slightest.)