#cause the whole relationships and connections are messy and I need this to keep everything straight | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

apollosfavkiddo · 26 days

Text

⛧° will you be my prom date? - hoo boys °⛧

⛧° 。 ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆༺♱༻⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ 。°⛧

content: headcannons for my favorite boys of how they would ask you on a date!

warnings: cursing, non-estabilished relationship, slight sexual allusions (nothing too NSFW), friends with benefits, characters are all 18+,

a/n: i had this idea in the middle of portuguese class and i loved it so now i'm writing cause i'm independent MUAHAHAHA- jk jk i'm fine (questionable) annd i already started writing that fic i told u guys about... it'll be good, i hope

⛧° 。 ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆༺♱༻⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ 。°⛧

⛧Jason Grace

He does not know how to ask a girl out.

Like, he has no fucking clue on how to do that. You see, he's a perfectionist in absolutely everything in his life, and would be no less concerned with his girl. Who, by the way, is not his girl. 'Yet', he keeps telling himself that.

So, of course that he has to have the most perfect plan of all on how to ask you out to prom.

He'd do absolutely averything to make you feel safe and loved, so when you told him a few weeks before that the most expected experience of your school-life was THE prom, he took that as a subtle cue that you wanted him to invite you to go with him.

It indeed was, but you would never tell that to anyone.

Of course, the first person he thinks to go to is Piper, since she knows you and she's a daughter of Aphrodite. Especially because of that last one.

So of course she advises him on how she thinks it's the best way to invite you to prom.

One day, you had a evening date on top of the Zeus cabin - you both found a spot that you could throw some blankets and lay down together, watching the stars. It was almost on routine, but tonight he was very much anxious.

"Right there it's Andromeda. There, Orion and a little bit further down, right there, it's Pegasus." You say, pointing the constelations to him as you always did. But tonight, he wasn't staring at the night sky. He was staring at you.

How could you be so beautiful with those soft lips, those cute cheeks, that kissable nose, those always happy eyes... you were just too beautiful. And it was just amazingly cute how your eyes shined and your smile got even brighter when you were talking about something you liked.

So he decided to just fuck the whole plan up. Which was definetly something that the Normal Jason would ever do, but this was Madly-In-Love Jason. He'd do it, for you.

"You wanna go to prom with me? Like, as my date?" He'd ask you. You snapped your head towards him as if you hadn't heard it quite right.

"Um... what?" You asked, confused it he really meant what he just asked.

"Do. You. Want. To. Go. To. Prom. With. Me?" He asked pausedly, making sure you understood. You felt your cheeks burn bright red and a smile creep up your lips.

You leaned forwards and connected your lips in a soft and tender kiss, giving him the answer he needed. "Thought you'd never ask."

⛧° Percy Jackson

He only discovered that the prom was gonna happen one week before it did.

And that's when it clicks to him why you're being all weird and evasive, refusing his kisses, hugs and the 'i need you rn' texts.

Sure you were just friends with benefits, but still hurt you quite a lot that he didn't even bother to ask you to check if you were even going to the prom.

Little did you know he had no idea there was going to be a prom.

So when he texted you this morning with a ‘meet me at the aquarium in twenty.’ you considered ignoring him. But maybe he was finally going to apologize, you hoped.

The first thing you saw when you got to the aquarium that was the usual spot of your dates, he was there holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers. He wasn’t looking at you, instead he was looking at the mirror, fixing his… not messy hair?

That’s when you noticed. He was in a freaking tuxedo, which was a sight for sore eyes, his usually messy hair was all gelled up and he looked… even more handsome than usual.

When he looked at you, a smile immediately crept up his lips, and you were suddenly feeling weird in that old pair of jeans and a baby blue cropped. Still, he looked like he had never seen anything prettier than you.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He said and walked towards you, kissing your cheek softly. You smiled and blushed, forgetting for a moment that you were still mad at him. He handed you the flowers, which you took gratefully from his hands.

When you looked up at him again, he seemed… guilty about something. He wasn’t even looking at you in the eye when he sighed and pulled you close to him, hugging your body.

“I’m so sorry, y/n/n, i’m so, so sorry. I swear i didn’t know that the prom was coming, i just- i’m sorry for being such an airhead.” He said, giving multiple kisses to the top of your head.

“It’s ok. I’m not mad anymore.” You said, smiling at the boy in front of you. “How can i even be mad when you literally call me to an aquarium in which you are in a freaking tuxedo?” Your asked, kissing his lips softly.

“Really? You forgive me?” He asked, his eyes hopeful.

“Of course i do.” You said. Then, you raised one hand to his hair and muffled it, making all messy again. “And i prefer your hair in its normal rebel condition.”

He smiled as you walked towards the aquarium that you two had visited multiple times before. The place of your first kiss, the first holding hands, the first date…

But when you got near the fish tank, he asks you to stop and close your eyes, so that’s what you do.

Five minutes later, he comes back to your side and smiles, “You can open it now.”

And when you opened… well, all the fish in the tank were in a formation that said ‘Prom?’, and your smile instantly brightened. The boy next to you had the biggest smile ever seen on earth’s surface, and it was the cutest thing ever.

“Of course i’ll go to prom with you, dumbass.” You said, pulling him down by his collar and giving him a very passionate kiss.

⛧° Leo Valdez

He just let life tell him the right moment.

Literally, he couldn’t care less to whether you both were going to the prom or not. He just wanted to make you happy as always.

So when he discovered that you indeed wanted to go to prom, he made his life’s most important work until this day: a metal rose that, when you pressed a button to the side, opened to a message of ‘Do you wanna go to prom with me?’ that he knew you’d like.

He made it and triple checked it, just to be sure it’d work. It did work, but he couldn’t keep the thought that probably something was gonna be ruined with his bad luck.

So, one day, he was in bunker nine, covered in grease and soot, his hair messy and a little oiled up. He had just finished the rose-mission and was getting his stuff together before leaving to cabin nine so he could take a shower and change into clean clothes.

That’s until you ruined his plans and came in unexpectedly.

“Leo?” You asked, getting inside the hot bunker. Lots of projects were in the table, on the walls and even on the floor. Lots of weird materials that you didn’t quite know the name to were spread all over the place. It was actually cute.

“Mi amor, is it you?” He asked, leaving the shadows to a very smiley, pretty and happy you. He thanked the gods that he had taken the rose out of his work table before you got there.

“Yeah, it is. Whatcha doing?” You asked, sitting down in a pouf that you told him to put there, moths before.

“Just, uh… some weird Leo Valdez stuff, y’know.” He said, jokingly.

When he looked back at you, the tip of his nose caught fire. You were just… ethereal. Just sat there, looking around his work, hair pulled back in a messy braid, the small little pout that you always seemed to have in your lips…

He needed to do that right now.

Right now it’s the perfect moment.

Hell, every moment is the perfect moment. As long as it’s with you.

“Hey, princesa, i made something for you. I don’t know if you’ll like it, but, uh… yeah.” He said, getting closer and crouching down in front of you.

He took the metal rose out of his pocket and handed it to you. Your face immediately turned into a bright smile, grabbing the rose from his hand and pressing a kiss to his lips.

“Aw, honey, thank you! It’s so pretty!” You said, amazed by the beauty of the metal in front of you.

“Just, hm..” He said as he pressed a button in the back of the rose.

Thanks the gods, Tyche decided to be on his side today.

It occurred just right in the way he planned. The rose opened slowly, revealing a small little message. When you read it - with difficulty from the dyslexia -, your eyes watered.

You pulled him in for a hug, not caring it he was all greasy and sweaty and dirty. “Yes! Of course i will, babe!” She said, giving kisses all over his face.

“Te quiero, princesa.” He whispered and kissed you again.

⛧° Frank Zhang

He was nervous.

His hands were all sweaty and he wasn’t sure if you were going to accept the prom invite.

Fine, you were almost dating by now. But what if you stopped liking him? What if you found someone else? What if you hated him? What if-

Well, he was overthinking. A lot. And he just wished everything would go smoothly, and definitely not wrong. Nope. Anything is gonna go wrong here, folks.

You’re going to a little date dinner in the evening, you’ll can’t about your days and, in the end, he’ll ask you to be his prom date. Everything will be completely okay.

And at the beginning it really was. He got himself to calm down and was relatively fine, compared to earlier, and you just talked together at the beach, talking about your days.

The whole problem began when you mentioned the subject ‘prom’.

Oh, look at his hands getting all sweaty again.

He’s kind of scared, but he forces himself to ask you the question anyways.

“Hey, y/n, i was w-wondering if… if you-“ Before he got to finish, the boy got so nervous he transformed himself into a dog.

Why a dog, you ask? Because he remembered one day that you mentioned to him that dogs were your favorite animal on the world.

And he never forgets anything that you tell him about yourself.

But he got so, so embarrassed, thinking that he had ruined every chance that he had with you.

Little did he knew you just fell in love even more.

When he shifted back into his human form, you were still giggling, and he was super embarrassed about the situation.

“I’m sorry, i… i kinda shift when i got nervous..” He mumbled under his breath, looking at his hands.

You chuckled a little more and pulled him to you, giving him a kiss to the cheek. “It’s okay. Now, what were you gonna ask me?”

“Uh… do you… do you wanna go to prom with me?” He asked the question, and your smile just brightened. You kissed him in the lips now and felt him melting onto your lips.

“Of course, big guy.”

a/n: i kinda liked it???? like what. oh, thank you SO MUCH ALL OF YOU CAUSE I REACHED TWO HUNDRED AND FIFTY LIKES LIKE WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK??? LIKE, I MADE MY DIRST POST THREE DAYS AGO, TOPS!! Im just so proud and thankful, i love you all! my 24 besties 😭😭

#postcards from leah #jason grace #jason grace x reader #percy jackson #percy jackson x reader #leo valdez #leo valdez x reader #frank zhang #frank zhang x reader #heroes of olympus #pjo hoo toa #heroes of olympus x reader

458 notes · View notes

axelars · 10 months

Text

It’s kinda annoying because my (actual) diagnoses came during this “fad” of being traumatized and neurodivergent. So I feel like I annoy everyone when I talk about mine and that they don’t believe me/think I’m just looking for excuses/attention.

This is my story. Human names have been changed.

I am diagnosed Bipolar 2, ADHD, and Autistic.

I went my whole life undiagnosed of what was actually the reasons behind every single struggle I had, and there were, and continue to be ALOT. I talk about it so much because it’s a relief to understand myself now and to validate my experiences and start to heal and move forward. Since as long as I can remember, I felt out of place. Always a step behind everyone else and like I didn’t really belong anywhere. I was painfully shy. Speaking to people terrified me. I had frequent meltdowns and sensory issues that were brushed off as temper tantrums and being sensitive.

But I had friends. I had large friend groups I was a “part” of. I participated in team sports and dance. I maintained okay grades in school. I didn’t scream or meltdown in public. I didn’t stim or avoid eye contact (lol yes I did but had already learned to force it and my stims have always been low key). I didn’t have any “learning disabilities”.

Now I know the reason behind this is autism but it didn’t look the same as what everything knew it as, and girls especially learn to mask very fast and at a young age. And I did have learning disabilities. Auditory processing disorder is one. I mean I guess autism and adhd are learning disorders in themselves, but I don’t like calling them that. We just connect things differently and therefore learn, understand, and do things differently. But we’ve been told our whole lives we’re doing it wrong. We’re doing life wrong. But it becomes our normal so we think everyone feels like this.

Fast forward to high school. I’ve turned dark. My parents went through a really messy and toxic and abusive divorce when I was around 12. I’m 13/14 and I’m starting drinking, and smoke weed. This progresses to drinking heavily and often, and taking various pills. I’m diagnosed with major depressive disorder and generalized anxiety disorder at 15. Medicated and things get better. I finish high school (still partying alot), go to University and do alright and kinda just party my way through it. I got off my meds cause I’m cured! Around 25 or so I start having panic attacks. I can’t leave my house. I go back on meds but as always am still apathetic about life. Panic attacks dissipate and I learn how to manage them when they do happen. Things are pretty good. I get my degree in geology, meet my then partner, John, get my masters degree and then a job. We have 2 dogs, one we got together and one I had previously, and 2 cats. It’s good for a bit and then I get bored and stop caring.

And then Covid hits. All routine and structure and societal need to socialize disappears. At first it was awesome. I could sleep in and working from home was nice. But then I got bored and started caring less and less about my work. I couldn’t focus, keep track of time or even days gone by, was experiencing executive dysfunction, sensory issues got worse, and much more. I now know this is ADHD and Autistic burnout.

I’m diagnosed with ADHD and do a bunch of medication trials. Nothing works. It makes me more apathetic and I don’t give a single fuck about anything at all. Even the one thing that brings me joy which is dog training. I realize my childhood was really abusive and traumatizing and I’d been normalizing it. So I start trying to heal from that.

My partner at the time was the only thing keeping me afloat (love you John) but it also took a huge toll on our relationship. We moved to the Yukon. I switched to a new company. I became even more depressed and move back to Alberta without him. I take all of the animals (2 cats and 2 dogs) because he’s on shift work. He gets super depressed without his Emma (dog) and finds a way to not be on shift work anymore so he can take care of her. So I send her back to him because they really did have the best bond, and she was born to be a wilderness dog. But this was heartbreaking for me. I get involved in an extremely emotionally abusive and manipulating and as I later find out, dangerous situationship. I’d known him for over a decade so I could trust him right? Dead fucking wrong but we will get into that later. John is still my best friend. I get a border collie puppy and she’s amazing. He gets involved in a relationship (also abusive) and cuts off communication with me. I finally get diagnosed bipolar 2 and and medicated for it. I learn my first manic episode was at age 19 when I decided to go to New Zealand for 2 months out of nowhere. I hate travelling. I barely remember the experience and I wasn’t drinking or doing drugs.

John gets himself out and we are best friends again. I couldn’t do life at this point without him.

Things are starting to make sense and get easier. I’m able to regulate my emotions better. I get myself out of that abusive situationship. I completely change careers and leave geology and the security along with it (it’s the best decision I’ve ever made). This change brings new meaning and purpose and joy to my life, but it also ends a years long friendship and my dog training community and support system.

Then my soul dog, Ernie, and the reason I’m a dog trainer gets bone cancer and dies. I reconnect with my previous friends from the training community (silver linings?).

My mom gets cancer which has spread and needs chemo. She’s starting her third set of treatments this week. The doctors are optimistic but she never tells us the whole truth about scary things. I’m scared but trying to be positive.

Then I find out the real truth about my situation-ship. Him and his friend have allegations of sexually assaulting women together. At least one his friend was charged for but they got dropped when she could no longer afford it. Our justice system sucks. Like how is that fucking possible. I learn of other attempted assaults or close call and just overall inappropriate disgusting behaviour. I learn of the other women. I speak to them and even befriend one. I learn he told us all the same stories that “he’s never shared with anyone before”, cooks the same meals, makes the same jokes, literally all the same things. This guy has zero conscience or personality and genuinely believes he is a good guy. He would always talk about what a good guy he is 🙄. Well he had me fooled and a trail of traumatized women before me. I learn he sent all of us at the same time pictures of his 2 year old niece. I’m disgusted by this because what human uses their toddler niece to gain trust from women. He’s despicable so I tell his sister in law.

Anyways I put that behind me and meet a really nice guy, Tyler. We have awesome chemistry and we get each other. But he’s in the dark place and can’t be what I need. I understand this because I’ve been there several times but it still really sucks. I’ve had a really hard time moving on.

Fuckface is back on the dating apps going by a different name. He’s so vile 🤮

My training business is picking up and I’m genuinely starting to be kinda happy. I can at least get more daily things done but it’s still a disaster. Still having a hard time missing Tyler but managing. Before bipolar meds I would have spiralled into my pit of despair.

A new dog comes into my life. She is an Olde English Bulldogge just like Ernie was and I sincerely believe he sent her to me. The week before I met her as a training client for a rescue I train with, I’d been feeling his presence a lot. I’m about to adopt her and I started a part time job at a canine physiotherapy clinic doing hydrotherapy. I love it. I get to see my best friend after 5 years and meet her little daughter.

So I think things are kinda progressively getting better with each setback. But frick can I just be done with everything needing to be a lesson?? I’ve got my PhD at this point.

#mental health #my adhd #autistic #bipolar 2 #trauma #mental health awareness

4 notes · View notes

artemiseamoon · 1 year

Text

A change of plan

place holder title

Oc Maja Abeni Igwe (movie character Collette Jacobs) * ft Dieter/Gio and a omc (Maja’s bf) played by Oscar Isaac (name Andres Molina)

Words: 1,144

Warnings: mention of drugs and sex but no scenes about it

About: With Cliff Beasts behind her, and out of love with acting, Maja plans her next steps. She’s stuck in limbo when she gets a call about a gig; Cliff Beasts the series.

An: I don’t care about canon, as soon as I saw this prompt I thought about my oc, Dieter/Gio and a series they are on. I was not supposed to write today. This is rest day! 😂 For now this is a one shot cause I have too much to do. But I’m saving this cause once I can, I’d love to add more. I have planssss for this! Including the scenes that connect to the prompt.

* fc is the (Nigerian/Norwegian) actress Toks Olagundoye

Below is a preview ~ read in full on A03 | will be a mini fic, info here

The laughter of her friends pulls Maja's attention back to the table. She’s been looking forward to this dinner party for months, and now that it’s here, but she's distracted. When she catches Andres warm brown eyes across the table, she smiles at him.

He’s resting his chin in his palm and wearing a loose sweater, his salt and pepper curls smoothed back on his head. It’s one of her favorite looks of his, but second to the messy curls, she loves the messy curls.

“You okay?” Andres mouths the words to her.

Maja nods, then flashes a smile at both her guests.

…

After dinner, Andres insisted on clearing up after they saw their guests out. Maja tried to relax to a movie, but a decision she made is still weighing heavy on her mind. About 40 minutes into the film, Andres joins her in the living room.

He sits on the couch with a sigh and pulls her into his chest, one arm draped over her shoulder. “You’re worried.”

“What if I made a bad decision?”

Maja glances up at him, the room is mostly dark aside from the decorative amber candles and light from the tv.

“You know I am tired of everything Cliff Beasts. I only took the job because I needed money, and I wasn’t supposed to make it past Cliff Beasts 2.” She takes a deep breath, then exhales before continuing. “Then, I accepted it for what it was and just - enjoyed the ridiculousness of it. I went into that meeting ready to say no, I don’t know why I said yes.”

Andres brushes her cheek with his knuckles, “I think you’re nervous. The shift to the main cast is a big one. We saw this coming, with each movie they gave you more screen time, you were on the poster for movies 5 and 6 baby.”

“I know.” she slouches against him, “I feel like I’m in a toxic relationship with this whole franchise. Like I’m addicted and stay even though I should leave.”

“Hey, it got you that.” Andres points to the bookshelf where the award is.

“I can’t believe I got an award for that.” She shakes her head and laughs.

Keep reading on A03

Masterlist

More Pedro

I’m just obsessed with this gif so here. The anguish 🥺

#dieter bravo #dieter as Gio #ofc x omc #Gio the bubble

8 notes · View notes

cloudraker · 2 years

Note

🙈 Oh gosh, if you’re sure! I’ve always wanted to send in a matchup request cause they were one of the reasons I followed you in the first place. I just really liked your writing a lot and the matchup idea was so cool to me. But don’t feel pressured to do it, if you don’t wanna do matchups rn! I will not be disappointed, dw! I’d just send another in the future when they’re actually open.

This would be for MTMTE/LL! I’m a 5’10, bulky, masc nb with long curly dark brown hair and deep voice. I’m bisexual (I like any gender) and my love language is touch and quality time. I am extremely enthusiastic about my partner(s). It’s very important for me to regularly do stuff with or for them, and I appreciate ones that don’t mind public displays of affection or have a love language of receiving acts of service.

My hobbies are cooking, gardening, drawing, and writing and I love to do creative writing or drawing with my partner. My professional career was Sound Mixing for Film. I’ve moved to Database Programming for the pandemic, but my passion still is in Sound Mixing. My interests are historical mystery, biology (especially paleobiology and entomology), horticulture, retro tech, and food “tourism.” I keep terrariums of bugs and frogs and an excessive amount of indoor and outdoor plants.

I believe love is made, not found, so there’s few things that I would “dislike” in a partner as long as they’re willing to find compromises and work with me. What I dislike is messiness, a lack of courtesy for others (lateness / bullying / etc), pickiness with food, and a hatred of bugs. A hard no from me would be political or sociological disagreement.

hjdfhja I'm so glad you like my writing that mean's a lot thank you sm omg <33 and I'm glad you're finally able to send in a matchup :D

I match you with...

Nautica!

Under the cut for length :)

Hailing from a mechanical planet, she doesn't really have a whole lot of experience with organics, especially ones as small as insects. She takes an interest in your terrariums and how they work as well as how you take care of the critters inside. Lots of questions about everything, really

Finds paleontology as a whole super cool! Being mechanical, Cybertronians don't change over time the same way organic species do, and finds it utterly fascinating that you can dig up fossils and connect them to living creatures and see how they've changed over time

I see her as having physical touch and acts of service as her love language, so it’s a good match! PDA is something she is totally on board for, and has no problem giving and receiving affection while in public

Time spent together isn’t always doing something flashy, but instead indulging in your hobbies together. She’s got that book she’s writing, so writing together isn’t an uncommon activity. She joins you in tending to your plants, asking questions about the difference between that plant over there and the one you’re watering now, why you’re giving this one more water than the last one, stuff like that

She is,, very curious about everything

Tries to help you with horticulture by coming up with different ways of keeping your plants healthy in different environments

She agrees with you on the love is made, not found front. She understands compromises, and is always happy to work one out when the need arises. She’s serious about the relationship and she’s willing to put in the time and effort to make it work

#transformers #transformers x reader #nautica #matchups #ough i haven't done one of these in a WHILE oof

13 notes · View notes

critgoblin · 2 years

Text

y’all want some post-ep.14 orym/liam meta? b/c i've got a whole lot of it.

has anyone else noticed that orym is off the beaten path for liam? not completely out of his wheelhouse (*slaps orym’s tiny forehead* this little halfling can fit SO much trauma in him) but the way orym plays is not what i would’ve anticipated from liam. because liam is a character-driven player. by that, i mean he is one of those d&d players who is mostly in it for the inter-character role-playing. if travis is at one end of the spectrum with characters designed to drive the plot and the party forward, liam is at the other, with characters who would be content to spend an entire campaign in one setting developing relationships with the party and digging deep into the history and lore.

it makes a lot of sense then, that liam’s previous pcs would serve as emotional catalysts for their campaigns. caleb and vax were reactive characters. they felt things, and those feelings drove them to make rash and impulsive decisions. vax had a habit of thinking only with his heart. he did what his instincts told him was right, and even when he got the literal and metaphorical shit beaten out of him for it, he never wavered in his dedication to his own (dubious) moral compass. caleb reacted on a hair-trigger instinct built out of a life of suffering and trauma. someone with that kind of damage can only ever respond with gut feeling--he made choices in self-defense, in fear, and in vengeance. his motivation was never from a sense of right and wrong, only what he saw needed to be done to keep himself and his teammates safe.

they caused their respective parties a whole lot of trouble and grief. impulse draws consequence, and the choices they made in those snap decisions caused lasting aftershocks on both their individual character arcs and on the campaign as a whole. they developed complicated and emotionally-charged relationships with every member of their party, and in fact, entered the campaign already deeply entrenched with another pc--a bond that would define much of their character arc and growth. everything vax did usually came back to keeping vex safe--he died for her, he committed to a god he hated for her, he gave up control of his fate and his life and his purpose all for her, for his sister. and caleb... caleb built himself back up on the foundations veth laid for him. everything he became was in the image of what she wanted him to be, what she believed he already was. caleb remade himself into a better man for veth, even when that meant giving up everything he’d sacrificed for, because she knew he could.

caleb and vax were created to fuck up constantly and to be taught to be better by the people who loved them. they were built so liam could dig deep into emotional turmoil to tell stories about death and grief and rebuilding. they were messy, invested, broken characters who were made whole again by their loved ones, who defined themselves through their connections, and who were made all the better for their mistakes and convictions.

orym is not like either vax or caleb. orym isn’t a reactive character. he was built to be a support character, to exist on the outskirts of the party and provide protection and defense when asked. where caleb and vax were messy creatures of instinct and gut reaction, and whose active participation in their environment provoked fate and pushed the narrative along, orym is a study in control. you can see it in the way liam holds himself when he’s playing orym--tense. alert. hyper-vigilance disguised as poise and grace. matt summed it up pretty well in episode 14: “orym is doing the thing that he’s been doing for most of the night, which is paying attention.” orym is a soldier, and he is very, very good at it. he knows what his duty is. to watch. to observe. to get involved when there is blood on the line, to take the hits when it is expected of him, and to die at his teammates’ feet. he does not engage actively with the party unless specifically called upon, and he does not reveal personal information about himself ever. he checks in on his teammates, he prioritizes their health and wellbeing, he offers advice and comfort, he speaks softly and takes them seriously. but he does not engage. there is a boundary that he has set up between himself and the rest of the world, and he tends to it carefully. everything stays inside that line where it belongs, and he does not step over it.

the truth is, we don’t know what happened in zephra. we have theories based off a tweet from almost five years ago, but we don’t know anything for sure because orym hasn’t told us. hasn’t told anyone. he hasn’t breathed a word about the attack other than to explain exactly what happened when prompted. clinical. rehearsed. a soldier reading a report, he says almost the exact same thing every single time. this is a pretty far cry from vax, who told his sister - and therefore, the audience - everything, and caleb, who revealed pretty early on that he had murdered his family and even earlier revealed that he was a tortured soul convinced of his own damnation. liam is not playing orym as a character seeking connection and rebirth, he is not playing a character intending to invest himself in other people. yes, it’s still early on in the campaign, but the other pcs have come pretty clean about their pasts. the details might be vague (looking at fcg/sam here) but we’ve got at least the scope of everyone’s backstories. we don’t know anything about orym except that his home was attacked six years ago, and that there is something deep and painful lurking inside of him. i have so many questions about his past, about what he’s been doing for the six years since the attack, about what happened to him, but i don’t see any end in sight to this purposeful obfuscation. because it’s not a matter of trust, or respect, or friendship. orym does trust his team. he likes them, and he’s certainly willing to die for them. and if he’s not waiting for trust, then i don’t know what else he’d be waiting for, unless he isn’t waiting for anything and he’s planning on walking right into his own grave with all of himself still wrapped up inside.

the one exception to that rule, i think, might have been dorian. dorian was different. i don’t know if we’ll ever know why, but orym was different around dorian. not because he opened up to him, but because it seemed like he wanted to. like there were all these things that he was inches from blurting out. there was an element of engagement orym took with dorian that he hasn’t taken with anyone else. it was still filtered through that barrier of his, but between the flower and the sending stone and that goodbye - for the company - it’s the most of orym we’ve ever gotten. little pieces of what orym might look like if he did talk about himself. if he did reach out. if he wasn’t such a good soldier. if he wasn’t so obviously soaked in grief and guilt and duty, if he wasn’t so fixed on whatever it is his goal is--vengeance, maybe? justice? death?

i am heartbroken over losing dorian and losing robbie, and i am afraid of where it has left orym. our little murder halfling, with so much contained violence strung up inside of him. who is really just a walking, talking tragedy, so intent on going to his own destruction utterly alone. there was so much potential between them for something real and meaningful. for maybe the first real connection orym has had in six years. and orym wanted it, you can tell orym wanted it so badly. he was distraught over dorian’s departure, the heartbreak was all over his face. and now that dorian is gone, the one connection orym’s tried to foster in six years, what happens? we don’t know what’s waiting at the end of the road for orym, but it’s probably not a warm hearth. probably not connection. probably not a family. it probably looks a whole lot like an empty grave. like a waiting stillness. like a promise of an end to the agony he carries around like a live grenade in his chest. and why would orym bother, then? why would he build something new? why would he nurse a connection to life, if all he’s banking on is oblivion?

the thing is, we don’t know anything about orym. but we do know liam. we know his themes, and we know the kind of characters he plays. and maybe orym isn’t like vax or caleb because he doesn’t reach out for connection and purpose. but they’re alike enough, and liam doesn’t do anything by accident.

will the halfling live? or will the halfling die?

#yikes this is so long #and got very dark #but it's all i've been able to think about since literally the second i realized dorian was leaving #reasons 5794749273973293 that robbie should come back: dorian needs to save his halfling #oh orym i am so afraid for you #cr meta #critical role meta #orym #liam o'brien #not a matter of intellect or logic #im trying really hard to make it love #otis talks cr meta #dorym #campaign three

288 notes · View notes

rezzyromance · 3 years

Note

Could I request Heisenberg with a female s/o who's negatively pent up from anxiety and depression and feeling like they're not good enough for Karl but they always put on a brave face to not look weak? They just want to make him happy and proud maybe maybe when they're either fucking or just working, maybe he says an offhand comment that hits home, idk being called useless is a good one to feel like being stabbed. They love him but they've been hiding all their mental struggles and bottling it up be a use they always focused on him first? Mental health feels neglected rn and could use the hurt/comfort if you're okay with this! Up to you if you want to add smut or not, with or without is great

Of course, baby. Sit back, relax, and enjoy the story. (CW: Hurt/Comfort, mentions of anxiety and depression. Sexual scenarios: Fingering, face riding, praising, general NSFW)

Living with Karl is a task that can be mentally taxing on anyone. For you, this wasn't an exception. There was no doubt in your mind that you loved him, but that dragged along a few issues with it. You loved him so much, that you constantly felt an unbearable pressure that pushed you to attempt to impress him out of fear that he may view you as inferior to him. Karl is without a doubt strong, insanely intelligent, passionate, and all around tremendously powerful. Often times you wondered why he even keeps you around.

You had grown very close with him over time. He never put a real title on your relationship, but you both knew that he loved you. He loved you enough to let you help out on his work. He assigned little tasks for you to do such as organizing his blueprints, creating blueprints, and organizing his tools. Each time you did something, he would reward you with praise. Sometimes the praise would be heart to heart while other times it may be skin to skin. While the praise he provided felt rewarding, you began to worry what may happen if your work wasn't good enough. What if you weren't good enough? What if he stopped finding you useful or attractive? These troubling thoughts had been torturing you recently. But, you kept it all bottled up, worried that he may view you as weak if he knew you were so afraid of failure. Whenever you would work on something, you would sit there for hours on end. Nothing could stop you until you were finished. You did this as a way to imitate Karl and his tireless work. Though, Karl does have powers that help keep his body from shutting down the way yours does. That didn't stop you from constantly pushing yourself overboard, though.

A knot grew larger and larger in your throat as you attempted to sketch out a new blueprint, slouching while sitting on your bed. He had asked you to work on it that morning and it was nearly midnight now. The lines were uneven, your hand writing was messy, and it was easy to see where you had erased and redrawn a lot of little details all over the paper. A single tear fell from your eye and onto the paper, causing a wet spot where the ink began to smear. You ignore your body and minds cry for help by quickly wiping your eyes and acting as if it didn't happen. Your hands were shaking as you applied more details, not being close to finish. Your eyes were twitching, fed up with staring down so harshly at the paper for so long. Suddenly, the door to the room opens.

You jump and face the door, realizing how cramped your neck was from your poor posture. Karl entered the room, obviously tired from a long days work. His eyes looked heavy and he was running his hands through his hair. "Still working on that blueprint, buttercup?", he asks as he walks towards you. You look back at the paper and realize how low quality it was, along with unfinished. You quickly hold the paper to your chest, attempting to block it from him. 'Um it's almost finished I swear! I just n-need to add a few more little details.", you assure him. He holds his hand out. "Let me see.", he raises an eyebrow and begins to wiggle his fingers. You attempt to swallow the knot in your throat as you shakily hand it over.

Your hands clutch each other tightly, digging what's left of your bitten nails into your skin. His eyes scan each inch of the paper and his eyebrows begin to furrow. "What.. is this?", he looks over to you. "What?", you're voice is shaky and cracking, but you attempt to cover it up by clearing your throat. "(Y/N)... you've been in here all day and THIS is all you could do? What have you been doing all day?", his voice began to grow into a semi-shout. It felt like thunder as it shook your body. You take a deep breath, attempting to toughen up to his words. "I really did try! I did exactly what you told me an-" he cuts you off before you can finish. "Really? You did exactly as I told you?! You said you could have this done by tonight and i trusted your judgement. But (Y/N) this shit is useless!"

He continues to fuss, but it was all silent to you. All you could hear was the echo of his voice saying that word. "Useless." The one thing you feared of becoming. The one thing you feared of creating. Your balled fists begin to shake. Your lip begins to quiver and your eyes grow cloudy.

"I'M SORRY!", you cry out before looking down at the floor, failing to control your tears as they fell to the floor. Suddenly, your eyes began to flood. Your stomach and heart felt like they were twisting and turning with guilt. He froze, unsure of how to handle this sudden outburst. "Was I too harsh?", he thought. "I'VE TRIED SO HARD TO BE GOOD ENOUGH. GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU! I'VE TRIED TO PERFECT YOUR WORK. I'VE TRIED TO LOOK MY BEST EVERY DAY! FOR YOU! I'VE DONE EVERYTHING YOU'VE TOLD ME TO!", your whole body shakes as you break down. "I never told you that you had to do any of that! What the hell have you been pushing yourself so hard for?", his tone was still stern, but he wasn't angry. He was very concerned, but had no idea how to express it. "I WANTED TO MAKE YOU PROUD!", you continue to cry.

The room was silent other than your quiet sobbing. He didn't know what to say. He had no clue that you had put so much pressure on yourself to impress him. He had no idea on why it mattered so much to you. And in that moment, something in him began to ache. He remembered being like that once. So dead set on making others proud of him no matter what it took. He had no clue what to say due to no one ever being there for him in his time of struggle, so instead he goes for a more physical approach.

He grabs you by the arm and pulls you to his body, holding you close. You bury your face in his chest to try and muffle your cries. He runs his hand through your hair, still confused as to why you pushed yourself so hard for him. "I just..", you sniffle. "I just wanted to be good enough.. for you...", you say as you try to stop crying. He lifted you up, carrying you bridal style to the bed. He crawled up and sat his back against a pillow, continuing to hold you close as you buried your face in his neck.

"Look at me.", he held your chin in between his thumb and pointer finger and waited for you to face him. You sniffle and pull your head up to meet him eye to eye. There was a new look in his eyes. Something unfamiliar to the both of you. Tenderness. "You are good enough. And I am so proud of you. Everyday you make me proud. Every time I look at you I'm proud.", he begins to wipe the tears from your face, struggling to find the right words to say. "Look. You don't need to overwork yourself. The fact that you stick around with me to begin with is enough for me." A small smile begins to grow on your face. The sight warms him and helps reassure him that he didn't say anything dumb.

Once you've seemed to calm down, he pulls you in for a kiss. It was warmer than usual. Softer than usual. And Karl isn't a man known for being soft or gentle. But this kiss was far from rough, but just as passionate. It was reassuring and safe. He pulls away and smiles at the sight of your now blushing face. "There's my pretty girl. Now, if you feel like it... since we're already on the bed.. I think I know a thing or two you can do if you still wanna feel useful.", he offers with a sly grin. You giggle and begin to straddle his lap. "Sounds good to me." you say as his hands start to wander around your hips.

"But, we're gonna be doing something different.", he says as his eyes scan every inch of your body. "What's that?", you go to unbuckle his belt but he grabs your wrist before you can continue. "Tonight's all about you. I wanna make you feel good.", he says. During every sexual situation you've had, you had focused on pleasing him first, not thinking about yourself and your own wants and desires. You don't object, so he moves his hands back to your hips and pulls you off of his body, effortlessly tossing you onto your back on the bed.

He then pins himself above you, towering over you. Your heart races at the new experience and your face glows more and more pink. His eyes meet yours and the sight alone is enough to start making your panties grow wet. He lowers his face down to your neck where he begins to place little kisses. Chills run through your body like ocean waves and you let out a quiet gasp as a kiss turns into a nibble. A hickey begins to form and he lets go, moving his mouth to your ear. "I want you to tell me what you want, buttercup." he whispers in your ear as one of his hands begins to wander across your body. It starts up near your breast where he fondles it gently, earning a lip bite from you. Then, he goes lower to your stomach where he scratches lightly at your skin. You squirm beneath his hand. He smiles and begins to kiss you once more before going even further, slipping his hands into your pants and cupping your vagina through your soaking panties. You gasp while your lips are still connected and he gently tugs on your bottom lip with his teeth, pleased at the reaction he's gotten from you.

"Is this what you want?", he slips two of his fingers into your panties and finds your clit, rubbing it slowly. "Mhm", you whine and press yourself into him. "Goodgirl.", he moves from where he was and makes his way down to your pants. He unbottons them and begins to pull them off. He throws the pants across the room and crawls back towards you on the bed. He removes your shirt and your bra underneath, throwing them in the same direction of the pants. He lowers his head down to one of your hard nipples and wraps his mouth around it, caressing it with his tongue. This causes you to moan quietly and grip the sheets beneath you. Your nipple was already so tender, so the feeling of his tongue was powerful enough to make you squirm. He lowers his hand back into your panties, rubbing your clit with his thumb. Your knees bend inward, trapping his hand between your legs. He chuckles with your nipple gently between his teeth. "Looks like you like this, huh?" You moan in response.

It didn't take long for you to feel a climax building inside you, coming closer and closer to exploding with each touch he inflicted onto your throbbing clit. Moans of all volumes filled the room as you got closer and closer. Then, right when you were about to cum, he stops. You groan in disappointment and look over at him. "I was just warming you up.", he smirks and lays on his back. "Come here.", he commands and pats on his chest, signaling for you to sit there. You do as he says and sit upon his chest. The second you sit down, His strong hands grip onto your hips and he begins to pull your body towards his face. He places you on top of his mouth. The next thing you know, your soaked pussy is being attacked by his tongue. You can't help but let a moan slip out between your lips as he closes is eyes, fully focused on bringing you maximum pleasure. He places each hand on each thigh, gripping them slightly all while his tongue swirls around your clit. You use one hand to grip the headboard of the bed and the other one to grip his hair, tangling your fingers in the grey strands. You grip harder as he sucks on your clit, causing you to throw your head back in pleasure. He let loose a few muffled moans and groans, causing vibrations on your pulsing clit. "Oh fuck Karl!", you feel your body weight sink lower and lower as you melt into the pleasure of his tongue. You begin to grind your hips back and forth, riding out your orgasm. He doesn't mind at all and begins to work harder to finally push you to your limit. With a loud moan, you cum into his mouth.

As you catch your breath and shake on top of him, he grabs you once again and pushes you over onto the bed. His beard was shiny around his lips due to a mixture of your sweat and cum. He looks down at your flustered and flushed face, pleased with what he'd done. You noticed a large bulge protruding from his pants. "I want you.", you pant as you reach over, massaging the hard lump. He responds by stripping, too breathless to verbally respond. Once he's fully naked, he makes his way onto the bed. You take him by the shoulder and pull his face into yours, initiating a passionate make out session. Your tongues caressing one another as you both toss and turn, ending up with you straddling him.

You rub his already throbbing dick, preparing for its entry. It was quite large and veiny. The hair that led from his lower stomach to his pubic area glistened with precum. You position yourself and begin to sit on his dick, letting it slowly fit inside you. Your extra wetness helped lube it. Once it was completely in, Karl groaned, grabbing your ass in his calloused hands. "Fuck.. you're so good.", he encourages. You begin to slowly rise and fall, letting your pussy stretch to comfortably fit his girth. You both moaned quietly. Once you feel comfortable, you wrap your arms around his neck and begin to bounce on it, feeling each thick vein add texture. 'What a good girl..." Every time you made your way back down, you could feel the tip of his dick reach your special spot, making your knees feel weak. As overwhelming as it felt, you couldn't stop. You continued to bounce up and down on his dick as his fingers grip your ass for dear life. "You're doing so good.", he praises you and you thank him by clashing your lips together, sharing sloppy kisses as you both moan with each up and down motion. "Such a good girl.", he begins to squeeze your breast, causing you to squeal and pick up the pace. It felt amazing, but your legs grew weaker and weaker with each motion, and he could tell. You were panting as you fucked yourself senseless on his dick.

"Wait a sec.", he gently pats your ass to get you to stop. You stop and rest your sweaty forehead to his, legs shaking beneath you. You didn't want to stop, but you weren't sure how much longer you could continue. Your legs felt like they were on fire. 'Let me help you.", his hands glide up to your waist where he clutches your sides and begins to bounce you up and down, continuing the motion you could no longer do yourself. You kiss him and whine into his lips as he slams your body up and down, grunting harder each time. "Such a pretty girl.." he pants. "Riding my cock so good..", he begins to slam his hips into you, reaching a point inside you that he's never reached before. You throw your head back and moan, tears of pleasure and bliss begin to form in your eyes. You're both exhausted and so close to finishing. You're whole body felt like it was numb and on fire at the same time as your climax creeped closer and closer.

And with a few more strong pumps into you, you both cum. He lets loose of your sides and wraps his arms around your back, drenching in sweat. You collapse on top of him, unable to move any of your body. Karl places a few more sloppy kisses across your face, his facial hair tickling your skin. "Don't you ever.. ever believe you're not good enough. Got it?", he pressures. You're too exhausted to form words, so you simply nod your head, laying down on his chest. His heart beat was rapid but soothing. Soon enough, it lulled you to sleep. He soon followed, keeping his arms wrapped tight around you the entire time.

#re8 #resident evil 8 #karl heisenberg x you #karl heisenberg headcanon #karl heisenberg headcanons #karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenburg x reader #karl heisenberg angst #karl heisenberg fanfic #karl heisenburg #karl heisenberg smut

456 notes · View notes

demonsandco · 3 years

Note

I searched through your blog and I'm honestly so surprised you don't have more Simeon content. That being said, if you're still doing it, can I get the WHOLE smut alphabet for Simeon?

You’re right! It’s a shame cause he’s very much one of my favorites now that we get to see more of him in game! Normally I wouldn’t do the entire alphabet like this because it’s… a lot, but Simeon deserves it uwu. This is nearly 3000 words, which makes it my longest post yet by a long shot!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Simeon is such a sweetheart after sex. He’s not actually sleepy, but his limbs feel like jelly and he’s full of so many soft, loving emotions. All he wants to do is keep his partner close in his arms, slyly stealing kisses from their lips and whispering words of love in their ear. He’s not eager to get up or move at all, but he’s willing to have a bath or grab some water if they join him. Sex leaves him feeling rather emotional and vulnerable, and he really just wants to feel them near him and hear their voice.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Simeon’s favorite part of his body is his hands. He wears gloves often to protect them, leaving his skin feeling so soft and smooth. He’s a very hands on type of person, and he’s quite skilled with them, too. One of his favorite things to do during sex is run his hands up and down his partner’s sides, feeling their warmth under his palms.

In turn, Simeon loves every part of their body. If he had to pick just one part, though, it would be their eyes. He’s a firm believer in the saying that “eyes are the windows to the soul” and he could lose himself in their gaze. He’s fond of maintaining eye contact, watching their expression shift as they get close and memorising the different shades and tones that make up their eye color.

(Cont under the cut)

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Simeon cums so much, both in quantity and frequency, but he hates the messiness of it. It feels good in the moment, but it gets cold and sticky way too quickly for his liking. He really likes to see his partner covered in his cum, as though he marked them as his in a way only the two of them would know about, but he’s always quick to help clean them up before it gets uncomfortable.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Simeon really doesn’t have anything that he would call a dirty secret. All the sexual experiences he’s had in the past have been quite tame and he’s very much not the type of person to feel ashamed about his past actions or keep them secret. He’s an open book when it comes to relationships and sex.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Contrary to popular belief, angels are allowed to have sex. As long as it doesn’t impact their duties, angels can do whatever they want with their private lives, and Simeon very much took advantage of that. He’s had quite a few partners in the past, especially before the war took place. His original rank as a Seraph gave him a lot of popularity among other angels. His experiences have taught him a lot about how to make his partner feel good in many different ways, but he never really had the chance to figure out what he enjoys. There’s a huge opportunity for them to experiment with his body and to teach him more than just the basics.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Simeon is really open to experimenting and trying out new positions, so he doesn’t have just one favorite. However, the positions he enjoys most are ones where he can see his partner’s face, especially if the position lets him pull them against his chest when he feels the need for closeness. He’s open to just about any position, though, even if it seems rather absurd at first.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Simeon isn’t goofy enough to ruin the moment, but his playful nature definitely shines through. If he’s in bed with someone, that means he feels close to them emotionally, too, so he feels comfortable enough to not stay serious all the time. Sometimes things go wrong in the moment or something silly gets said out loud on accident. He doesn’t see anything wrong with laughing it off or jokingly teasing each other. He’s good at telling when the mood allows for some laughs and when some composure is necessary.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Being an angel, Simeon’s body is almost entirely hairless. Besides the hair on his head, the only other hair on him is a small patch above his cock and a very faint happy trail. He doesn’t enjoy the feel of shaving, but he does keep it very neatly trimmed at all times. Colour wise, it matches the hair on his head perfectly.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Simeon is quite romantic in the moment. Love and intimacy are very important aspects of sex to him, and that comes through in most of his actions. His pace, his preferred positions, everything reflects that intimacy that he craves. Through it all, he’s sweet talking to his partner, letting them know how good they make him feel, how important they are to him, and how much he loves them. He knows he might come across as too intense, but he wants to make sure they know that sex isn’t just about the physical aspect for him.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Simeon rarely, if ever, feels the need to masturbate. Without a partner, sex really isn’t something he thinks about often, and if he does have a partner, he’d much rather take care of his need with them, rather than on his own. If he does end up jacking off, though, he always ends up fantasising about them, and he finds that he can’t actually cum without imagining them being there with him.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Unsurprisingly, Simeon has a corruption kink. It came as a huge shock to him when he first realised it, but something about having his sweet little human tempt him and lead him down a path of “sin” excites him. It feeds into his rebellious nature that he constantly tries to control. It gives him a rush of adrenaline whenever they convince him to do something shameful or lewd and he finds himself enjoying it and even craving more instead of actually feeling shame.

As well, Simeon also has a massive praise kink. He always strives to please his partner as best as he can and getting positive reinforcement, something he rarely hears normally, sends shocks of pleasure shooting down his spine. The more praise he gets, the more eager he is to be good. If he’s being bratty, praising his good behavior in the past gets him to behave much quicker than a “punishment” would.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Simeon’s preferred location is either his or his partner’s room. It’s a place that feels safe and familiar, while also offering privacy. They can take as much time as they want and be as loud as they feel like without having to worry about anyone bursting in.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Getting Simeon turned on is pretty easy. All his partner needs to do is be direct with their advances. Their boldness excites him. He isn’t the type of person to get turned on by seemingly innocent actions, so their intent needs to be clear. That, alongside some suggestive touches, is more than enough to get him in the mood.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Simeon is usually open to trying anything once and there’s not a lot that he’s opposed to, but he is very serious with his boundaries. He refuses to allow sex with his partner to start impacting his day to day life. Skipping classes, missing meetings, or even risking being late to something, even if it’s not important, in favor of sex is a big no for him. He makes his boundaries very clear from the start, and will quickly become harsh if his partner doesn’t respect them.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Simeon has almost no experience in oral, giving or receiving, but it quickly becomes one of his favorite things. He could spend hours between his partner’s thighs without getting bored. While he’s rather hesitant and unsure at first, he’s very skilled at reading their reactions and starts adjusting his technique to make them feel as good as possible.

He doesn’t enjoy receiving quite as much, but he still loves it! It’s so easy for his partner to make him cum or overstimulate him with just their mouth. The warm wetness of their mouth feels divine and their breath is so hot against his skin, he can’t help but cum embarrassingly quickly.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Simeon greatly enjoys taking his time with his partner, keeping a slow and sensual pace and exploring every inch of their body with his mouth and hands. He’s not a fan of rushing, even as he gets closer to his peak, he keeps his pace steady, his body molding against theirs. He’s not opposed to going faster if they prefer that, but his favorite pace will always be slow and intimate.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Simeon is not a fan of quickies. He’ll be open to trying it at least once, but he knows from the start that it’s not his cup of tea. The whole thing just feels so rushed and impersonal to him. The most important part of sex to him is the intimacy and emotional connections, and quickies feel very lacking in comparison. If anything, they leave him craving his partner even more than before.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Simeon is very open to experimenting and he’s always excited to learn and experience new things. He’s willing to try anything once, even if it’s something that he’s pretty sure he won’t enjoy. The idea of taking risks also interests him, but it needs to only be a perceived risk for him to participate. Something like messing around in an empty classroom at RAD is exciting, but it needs to be afterhours when the school is empty and the door has to be locked for him to feel comfortable.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Simeon’s stamina is not the best, at least at first. He can go for more rounds than the average human just because he’s an angel, but he’s so unbelievably sensitive that the rounds themselves are rather short. It’s been so long since he’s had anyone touch him sexually that he ended up cumming in his pants the first time he was with his partner. With time, his stamina will improve drastically, probably to the point where he could easily outlast them, but he needs some practice to get there.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Toys aren’t something Simeon has ever really thought about using or has ever owned. When he sees the huge variety of toys that exist, he feels excited to try them out, mostly relying on his partner’s preferences and recommendations to pick some. He quickly learns that he really enjoys having them use different toys on him and, in turn, he loves the new opportunities the toys give him when it comes to pleasuring them in return. The possessive, prideful part of him that is usually buried very much prefers making his partner feel good on his own, without toys to help, but most of the time, he doesn’t mind.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

The first time he teases his partner, it’s entirely accidental, his habit of going slow and taking his time exploring their body ends up making him tease them. Once he sees the way it makes them feel, though, he starts doing it on purpose, wanting to see more of their reactions. He’ll relent, with a smug little smile on his face, if they start begging, but until then, he plays the innocent card, pretending not to realise what he’s doing.

As much as he likes to dish it out, Simeon really can’t take much teasing. He’s so sensitive and desperate that he’ll start begging immediately, willing to do anything just to feel more of their touch.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Simeon is naturally very loud and he lets out the prettiest sounds. At first, he tries to muffle them and keep his volume down. He talks quite a bit, at least while he’s still able to form coherent thoughts, and loves to whisper sweet things to his partner in a breathy tone. The closer he gets to cumming, the more his words devolve into delicate gasps and high pitched moans. When he cums, he lets out the longest, breathiest whine that no amount of gritting his teeth or covering his mouth could smother. He’s very vocal throughout, and without some sort of soundproofing, his voice can very much be heard through the walls.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Simeon has a hard time controlling his wings during sex. He can’t focus hard enough to keep them hidden and they tend to have a mind of their own, fluttering and puffing up depending on how he feels. They’re quite sensitive in the moment too, especially at the base. In the end, he finds himself wrapping his wings around his partner as he pulls them close, keeping them warm and safe under his feathers. Unfortunately, this usually means that the bed is covered in feathers from all his flapping and wiggling.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Simeon has such a pretty cock, so perfectly smooth that it almost looks like a drawing rather than an actual dick. He’s large enough to be impressive without seeming intimidating, with just enough girth to feel like a stretch, but not be painful. It’ll still take some prep for his partner to take him, but it won’t be too difficult with some patience and plenty of lube.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Simeon’s libido isn’t very high at all, and sex isn’t something that’s on his mind constantly. What matters to him most is spending quality time with his partner, regardless of what they’re doing together. They usually need to be the one to actually initiate things, since he has no qualms with pushing down his need to avoid ruining the moment. With how much he values physical touch, it’s not hard for cuddles to become something more, and as long as there’s time for it, Simeon will never say no.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Sex doesn’t exactly leave him feeling sleepy, but it does make him feel extraordinarily relaxed. He tends to follow his partner’s lead, staying awake longer if they don’t plan to sleep right away. With how warm and soft he feels, though, he has no trouble falling asleep quickly, cuddling them close to his chest to absorb more of their body heat. If it’s up to him, he prefers to share some casual pillow talk together, before falling asleep soon after. If he can avoid having to get up and be functional, he will.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me simeon #obey me smut #smut alphabet #lime time #anon ily this was a wonderful ask #it took fucking ages to finish tho lmao

451 notes · View notes

feanorianethicsdepartment · 3 years

Note

Alright, I read your recent post and need to know - what is your interpretation of Maglor’s relationship with the twins?

askjdhslkjag my biggest self-inflicted problem in this fandom is that my take on maglor, elrond, and elros' relationship is so intensely detailed and specific i am forever tormented by none of the fic i read ever quite getting it right (from my perspective; i’ve read plenty of fic that presents a good interpretation on their own terms, it’s just never mine.) it’s simultaneously way darker than the fluffy kidnap dads stuff and nowhere near as black-and-white awful as the anti-fëanorian crowd likes to paint it, it’s messy and complicated and surrounded by darkness, and yet there’s also a sincere connection within it which mostly serves to make all those complications worse. angry teenage elrond is angry for a great many reasons, and the circumstances around him being raised by kinslayers account for at least half of them. there’s lots of complexity here, and i don’t see it in fic nearly as often as i’d like

(warning: the post... feathers? i already have an internet friend called faeiri this could be awkward - anyway, the post she’s talking about includes the line ‘everyone is wrong about kidnap dads except me.’ this post follows on from that in being as much a commentary about why various popular interpretations of both how the kidnapdoption went and the way people subsequently characterise the twins just don’t work for me as it is a setting out of my own ideas. i’m not really interested in getting into discourse here, i’m just trying to get my thoughts down. i’ve read fic with these interpretations before that i’ve liked, even, don’t take this as a Condemnation, aight? also this turned out long as hell, so i’m putting it under a cut)

i can never buy entirely fluffy depictions of kidnap dads

which isn’t to say i don’t read them! sometimes all i want is something sweet, for these kids to get to be happy for once. it’s not like i think their time with the fëanorians was completely devoid of laughter

it’s just. the pet names, the special days out, the home-cooked meals, it can get so treacly it stops feeling like the characters they are in the situation they’re in and turns into Generic Found Family #272

it soaks out all the complexity - which is the thing i am here for - and acts like oh, these kids were never in any danger, they were perfectly happy being abducted by the people who murdered everyone they knew, there’s nothing possibly questionable about this relationship at all

and... yeah. that’s not the characters i know. that’s not the context i know they belong to

i just can’t forget the circumstances that led them to meet

rivers of blood, the air filled with screams, a town ablaze, a woman choosing to die. every interaction the three of them have is going to proceed from that nightmare

(sidenote: i tend to hold it was maglor that raised the twins, with maedhros looming ominously in the background not really getting involved. it’s mostly personal preference, i’ve been in and out of the fandom since before this kidnap dads thing blew up and when i joined that was a perfectly standard reading)

(also the cave thing was a dumb idea, old man, if only because it implies beleriand had streams safe enough for children to play in at that point. the way it separates the twins from the third kinslaying is also something i don’t particularly vibe with)

probably my least favourite angle i’ve seen on the situation (edged out only by ‘maglor was actively abusive towards the twins’ which no no no no no no no no NO) is the idea that maglor (and/or maedhros, append as necessary) took the twins specifically to raise them

like, i get where it’s coming from, but it makes maglor come off as really creepy

(i have read fics where it is indeed played off as really creepy, but that’s not a maglor i have any interest in reading about)

(’mags 100% bad’ is just as facile a take to me as ‘mags 100% good’)

even if you’re saying maglor took them in because they had no one left to take care of them - i highly doubt they were the only children the fëanorians orphaned at sirion. idk, it always makes maglor seem much less sympathetic than i think it’s meant to

i prefer to think of it as more... organic? something that evolved, not something that was preordained. them growing closer gradually, the twins finding an adult who might maybe be on their side, maglor becoming invested in them almost by accident

and then the twins are so comfortable with the second scariest monster in amon ereb they frequently sass him off and maglor’s gotten so used to not hurting them he’s not even thinking about it any more. no one’s quite sure how it happened, but they’ve made a Connection

‘wait aren’t they a murderous warlord of questionable mental stability and a pair of terrified small children who’ve lost everyone they ever knew? isn’t that kinda fucked up?’ yup! that’s the point! complexity!

another idea i don’t like is the idea that maglor was an objectively better parent to the twins than eärendil or elwing

other people have talked about this already, i won’t rehash the whole thing. i will say that while i don’t think elwing was a perfect parent - someone so young, in such a horrible situation, i wouldn’t blame her for screwing up - i do think she (and eärendil) did the best by them they possibly could

this is one of the few things they have in common with maglor

something i come across now and again is the idea that sure, elwing and eärendil weren’t abusive or horrible or anything, but they were a couple of basically-teenagers with so many other responsibilities, there was only so much they could do. maglor, on the other hand, is an experienced adult who could take much better care of the twins

and...

first off, it’s not like mags doesn’t have a job. he’s a warlord, he has a fortress to help run, military shit to handle, lots of other stuff that needs to get done to stop everyone from starving or getting eaten by orcs. i feel like sirion had enough of a government there was plenty of opportunity for elwing to take days off and play with her kids, but in the fëanorian camp nobody really has the time to chase after a couple of toddlers, least of all one of the last points on the command network. they just don’t have the people any more

(seriously, the twins getting a formal education with tutors and classes and shit is a weirdly specific pet peeve of mine. this is a band of renegades, not a royal household; if there’s anyone left with those kinds of skills they almost certainly have more important things to do)

more than that, though - well, a quick glance through my late stage fëanorians tag should tell you a lot about what i think maglor’s mental state is like at this point. he is so accustomed to violence death means nothing to him, he’s lost most of his capacity for genuinely positive emotion to an endless century of defeat and despair, he hates everything in the universe, especially himself, he’s only able to keep functioning through a truly astounding amount of denial, and he covers it all up with a layer of snark and feigned apathy, which he defends aggressively because he’s subconsciously realised that if it breaks he’ll have absolutely nothing left

(maedhros, for the record, is... i’d say more stable, but at a lower point. maglor may interact with the world mostly through cold stares and mocking laughter, but at least his mind is firmly rooted in the present)

(on the other hand, at least maedhros lets himself be aware of what they are and where their road will lead)

which... this doesn’t mean maglor doesn’t try to be kind to the twins, or rein in his worst impulses around them

there’s just so little of him left but the weapon

he stalks through the halls like a portent of death and gets into hours-long screaming matches with maedhros and has definitely killed people in front of the twins

not even as, like, a deliberate attempt to scare them, but because when you solve most of your problems by stabbing them it’s pretty much a given that people who spend a lot of time around you are going to see you do it at least once

and sometimes, he curls up in an empty hallway, and weeps

... suffice it to say i don’t think elwing’s the more preoccupied, or the less mentally ill, parent here

just. in general, the fëanorians aren’t cackling boogeymen, but they’re not particularly nice either

no one has the energy left for that. not these isolated and weary soldiers at the end of a long losing war and the beginning of the end of the world. they don’t really bother to guard the kids against them escaping. where else are they going to go?

the sheer despair that must have been in the fëanorian camp after sirion, the knowledge that the cause cannot be fulfilled, that they are utterly forsaken, that they’re really just waiting to die -

it can’t have been a happy place to grow up in, under the shadow of loss and grief and deeds unrepentable, and the slow march of inevitable defeat

they would have had a better childhood if they stayed in sirion, raised by people who knew how to hope

but that isn’t the childhood they had. and despite everything i’ve said, i don’t think that childhood was an entirely awful one

yeah, see, this is where the other side of my self-inflicted fandom catch-22 comes in. just as much of the pro-kidnap dads stuff comes off as overly saccharine and simplified to me, i find much of the anti-kidnap dads stuff equally simplistic in the opposite direction

the idea that maglor and the fëanorians never meant anything to elros and elrond, that they had no effect on the people they became at all, that it was just a horrible thing that happened when they were children, easily thrown in the rear-view mirror...

that’s even more impossible to me than the idea that life with the fëanorians was 100% fluffy and nice

like, i’ve seen the take that elros and elrond hated the fëanorians from start to finish. they were perfect little sindarin princes, loyal to their people and the memory of doriath, spurning every scrap of kindness offered to them and knowing just what to say to twist the knife into the kinslayers’ wounds

... dude. they were six. hell, given their peredhelness, mentally they could easily have been younger

what six year old has a firm grasp of their ethnic identity? what six year old is fully aware of their place in history? what six year old would understand the politics that led to their situation?

don’t get me wrong, i can see hatred in there. but something else that doesn’t get acknowledged alongside it often enough is the fear

some of the stuff i’ve read feels like it gives the kids too much power in the situation. they’re perfectly happy to talk back to and belittle the people who burned down their hometown and killed everyone they ever knew, like miniature adults who don’t feel threatened at all

and, like, six. i can see them going for insults as a defensive measure, but it is defensive. it’s covering up fear, not coming from secure disdain

(and a lot of those insults sound, again, like things an adult who’s already familiar with the fëanorians would say, not a scared child who’s lost almost everything. why would a six year old raised by sindar and gondolindrim know what the noldolantë is, let alone what it means to maglor?)

(... i’m just ranting about this one fic that’s been ruffling my feathers for five years straight now, aren’t i)

i mean, i write elrond as the world’s angriest teenager, who snipes at maglor pretty much constantly, but the thing about angry teenage elrond is that he’s angry teenage elrond

he’s spent long enough with the fëanorians he has a pretty secure position within the camp, and he knows that maglor won’t hurt him from a decade and change of maglor not, in fact, hurting him

but as a small and terrified child abducted by the monsters his mother had nightmares about? he fluctuated wildly between ‘randomly guessing at things to say that wouldn’t get him killed’ ‘screaming at maglor to go away in words rarely more complicated than that’ 'desperately trying not to do or say anything in the hopes of not being noticed’ and ‘hiding’

(and i don’t think the twins were never in any danger from the fëanorians, either. quite besides the point that before they started orbiting maglor nobody was really sure what to do with them... well, they wouldn’t be the first children of thingol’s line the minions took revenge on)

(fortunately for them, maglor did, in fact, take them under his wing. by this point even their own followers are shit scared of the last two sons of fëanor, nobody’s going to mess with their stuff and risk getting mauled. tactically, it was a pretty good decision for a couple of toddlers)

more to the point, i feel like a child that young, in a situation that horrible, wouldn’t reject any kindness they were offered, any soothing touch in a universe of terror

in a world full of big scary monsters, the best way to survive is to get the biggest scariest monster possible to protect you. that’s how elros rationalises it when they’re, like, eight, mentally, but at the time they were just latching on to the only person around them who seemed to care about them

that’s how it started, on their end. two very young very scared children lost in a neverending nightmare clinging tightly to the lone outstretched pair of hands

as for maglor...

i’ve called mags evil before, but i see that as more of a... technical term? he is evil because he did the murder, he remains evil because he won’t stop doing the murder. hot take: murder bad

but that doesn’t make him, like, a moustache-twirling saturday morning cartoon villain. he is deeply unhappy with the position he’s in and the person he’s become, and he’s always trying not to take that final step over the edge

it’s not that i can’t see a maglor who is abusive or manipulative or who sees the twins more as objects than people. it’s just that that characterisation is one i am profoundly uninterested in. i do occasionally read fic with it, but it never enters my own headcanons

horrible people can do good things!! kinslayers can do good things!! the fallen are capable of humanity!! people can do both good and evil things at the same time, because people are complicated!! maglor is not psychologically incapable of actually taking pity on these kids!!!!

it’s... again, complexity. the fëanorians straddle the line between black and white, which is a lot less sharp in the legendarium than it’s sometimes characterised as. it’s what draws me to their characters so much, why i have so many stupid headcanons about them. pretending they fall firmly on either side of the line is my real fandom pet peeve

and, like, this moment? this sincere connection between a bloodstained warlord and two children who will grow up to be great and kind in equal measure? i may not entirely like the direction the fandom’s taken it recently, but that beat, that relationship, it still gets me

so no, i don’t think elrond and elros’ years with the fëanorians were an endless cavalcade of abuse and misery. i think there was love there, despite the darkness all around them

an old, tired monster, and the two tiny children it protects

maglor never hurts the twins, not ever, not once. his claws are sharp and his fangs are keen, if he so much as swatted them he’d rip them in half. instead he folds down the razor edges of his being, interacting with them ever so carefully. he has nightmares of suddenly tearing into their skin

seriously, the power differential between them is so great, maglor so much as raising his voice would break any trust they have in this horribly dangerous creature. fics where he does corporal punishment always get the side-eye from me

the mood of their relationship is... i find it hard to put into words. melancholy, maybe, like a sunny afternoon a few days before the end of the world. three people who’ve lost so much finding what respite they can in each other as the world slowly crumbles around them

there are times when it feels like the three of them exist in a world of their own, marked out by the edges of the firelight. maglor telling stories of the stars, elros giving relaxed irreverent commentary, elrond getting a few moments to just be, all their troubles kept at bay

they are the last two lights in a world sunk into darkness, the last two living beings he does not on some level hate. he will tear his own heart out before he sees them in pain

he teaches them to ride, he teaches them to read, he gives them everything he still has left. the twins should never have been in this situation, maglor probably isn’t entirely fit to take care of them, but it is what it is, and they take what love they can

(maglor depends on the twins emotionally a bit more than any adult should rely on any child. he’s still very much the caretaker in their relationship, but that relationship is the only one he has left that’s not stained by a century of rage and grief. he’s obsessed with them, maedhros tells him frequently. maglor’s standard response to this is to try to gouge maedhros’ eyes out)

(that particular darker side to their relationship, where maglor’s attachment to the twins turns into a desperate possessiveness - that’s not something i think i’ve ever seen in fic. which is a shame, it feels much closer to my own characterisation than the standard ways this relationship gets maleficised. darker, in a different way than usual. horribly compelling in its plausibility)

however you want to read it, i don’t think you can deny this is a relationship that defines elrond and elros’ childhood. they were raised in the woods by a pack of kinslayers, the text is quite clear on this

but i’ve seen a lot of talk about how elros and elrond are only sirion’s children. they are completely 100% sindarin, they love and forgive eärendil and elwing thoroughly and without question, they identify with doriath over - even gondolin, let alone tirion. the fëanorians - the people who raised them - had zero effect on the people they grew into and the selves they created

and that, more than anything else, i find utterly unbelievable

look, i get what this is a reaction to. a lot of the kidnap dads stuff paints the fëanorians as elrond and elros’ ‘real’ family, and i’ve already talked about what i think of the idea that maglor-and-possibly-also-maedhros were better parents than eärendil and elwing. i think it’s reductive and overly optimistic and just a little too neat

but to say instead that elrond and elros held no great love in their hearts for maglor, no lingering affinity with the fëanorians, no influence on their identity from the people they grew up around, none at all? that after it happened they just left it behind and resumed being the same people they were in sirion?

that strikes me as just as much an oversimplification. it sands down all the potential rough edges of their identity, all that inconvenient complexity that stops them from fitting into any well-defined box, and replaces it with a nice safe simple self-conception i find just as flat and boring as declaring them 100% fëanorian

we can quibble over who they call ‘father’ (i personally find that whole debate kinda petty) but denying that it was actually maglor who was the closest thing they knew to a parent for most of their childhoods, and that that would, in fact, affect the way they thought of themselves and their family, elides so many interesting possibilities out of existence

(i’m not even going to get into the most braindead take i have ever heard on the subject, namely that because their time with the fëanorians was such a small fraction of elrond’s total lifespan it was like being kidnapped for two weeks as a toddler and had no greater significance than that. do you not understand what childhood is????)

like, i tend to think of elrond as a child as being very loudly not-a-fëanorian. elros is more willing to go with the flow - hey, if the creepy kinslayer wants kids, elros is happy to play into that in order to not be murdered - but elrond is very firm that he’s not happy to be here and he doesn’t belong with them

(this is after they get over their initial terror, of course, when they’ve realised they won’t be fed to the orcs for the tiniest slight. even so, elrond only really gets shirty about it around people he’s comfortable with, whose reactions he can reasonably guess at. naturally, the first person he does it to is maglor)

elros calls maglor their father exactly once, when they’re... maybe early preteens? this is because elrond hears him do it and immediately loses his shit. they have a dad, elrond says, in tears, and a mum, and any day now their real parents are going to come to pick them up and take them home

... right?

it gets harder to believe as the years roll on, as their memories of sirion fade, as they find their own places within the host, as maglor watches over them as they grow. elrond still mentally sets himself apart from the fëanorians, but it’s more of an effort every year. life in the fëanorian camp is the only one he’s ever really known. he can barely remember his mother’s voice

then the war of wrath starts, and the fëanorian host drifts closer to the army of valinor, and the twins come into contact with non-fëanorians for the first time in forever, and it becomes clear just how obviously fëanorian elrond is. he always insisted he wasn’t like the kinslayers at all, but he dresses like them, talks like them, fights like them

the myth cycles the edain tell are almost completely unfamiliar to him, he barely remembers the shape of the songs of lost doriath. even these sarcastic commentary and subversive reinterpretations he made of maglor’s stories - those were still maglor’s stories! he’s been trying to guess at the person he was meant to be, but it’s growing nightmarishly blatant how little elrond ever knew about him

instead, the people he was born to are as alien to him as the orcs of morgoth. he is a fëanorian, through and through

... yeah, elrond (and/or elros) having an absolutely massive identity crisis upon being reintroduced to his quote-unquote ‘true kin’ is another angle i’d love to see in fic that i don’t think i’ve ever come across. all those potential grey areas around who they are and who they’re supposed to be sound utterly fascinating, and i think it’s the complexity i hate to see elided over the most

i really, really doubt they could effortlessly slot back into being eärendil and elwing’s children. not when they’ve been surrounded by, lived alongside, been raised by the people who were supposed to enemies for most of their lives

they just don’t fit into that box any more. they can’t

speaking of eärendil and elwing, while i do agree that they both (especially elwing) get a lot more flak than they deserve, i don’t agree that therefore elrond and elros were never the slightest bit mad at them and fully forgave them for everything with no reservations

because, well, they were left behind. elwing had no other choice, but they were still left behind; it led to the world being saved, but they were still left behind. all the best intentions in the universe don’t erase the weeks and months and years of waiting, of a hope that grew thinner and frailer until it finally quietly broke

that’s a real hurt, and a real grievance. even if the twins rationally understand that their parents were making the best out of their terrible situation, you can’t logic away emotions like that. it’s perfectly possible for them to know they have no reason to resent eärendil or elwing, and yet still harbour that bitterness and pain

(i did write a thing once where elrond loudly rejects eärendil as his father in favour of maglor, but something i didn’t add in that i probably should have is that elrond later regretted doing that)

(not like, several centuries later, when he’d grown old and wise. two hours later, when he’d calmed down. but he was still legitimately angry at eärendil, because the one thing angry teenage elrond was not lacking in was reasons to be mad at the adults around him, and before he could figure out if he had anything less furious to say the hosts of the valar left middle-earth behind)

(it’s another element to the tragedy of the whole thing. in that particular story, which is mostly aiming for maximum pain, the only thing elrond’s birth parents know about their son for thousands of years is that he hates them)

(and he doesn’t, not really. you can’t hate someone you’ve never known)

not that i think they couldn’t ever make up with their parents! fics where elrond and his birth parents work past all the things that lie between them and form a functional familial bond despite it all give me life. i just don’t like the idea that there’s nothing difficult for them to work past

i don’t like the idea that elrond and elros would naturally, effortlessly identify with the mother they last saw when they were six and the people they only vaguely remember. i can see them doing it as a political move, i can see them going for it as a deliberate personal choice, but i can’t seeing it being immediate and automatic and easy

no matter how great a pair of heroes eärendil and elwing are, that doesn’t change the fact that to elrond and elros, they’re at most a few scattered memories and a collection of far-off stories. and so long as the twins stay in middle-earth, they’re never going to draw any closer

compared to the dynamic, multifaceted, personal, and deep bonds they have with the fëanorians - who, and i know i keep saying this but i think it gets tossed aside way more casually than it should, are the people who actually raised them, their birth parents must feel like a distant idea

and that’s why i can never buy interpretations of elrond as 100% sindarin, a pure son of doriath, with no messy grey areas or awkward jagged edges to his identity. given everything we know about his life, it seems almost cartoonishly simplistic

honestly it seems like a narrative a bunch of old doriathrin nobles trying to manouevre elrond into being high king of the sindar or something would propagate. it's neat and nice and tidy, something that’d be much more convenient for everyone if elrond did feel that way

but i just don’t see how he can. this narrative is easy and simple in a way real people never are, it ignores all the forces pulling him apart. elrond being uncomplicatedly sindarin with the life he lives and the people he's close to - that doesn’t make any sense to me

which isn’t to say i think he’s 100% noldorin, from either a gondolindrim or a fëanorian perspective. (i find it a little more believable, given, again, who he grew up around and who he hangs out with, but it’s still a bit too reductive for my tastes.) it’s also not to say i couldn’t believe an elrond who made an active choice to emphasise his sindarin heritage

it’s not how i think of him, but it works. i don’t have a problem with other people interpreting the complexities of the twins’ identities differently

i just have a problem with people acting like it doesn’t exist

in general i think there’s a lot untapped potential that gets left behind when you declare the twins, separately or together, as All One Thing

they’re descended from half the noble houses of beleriand, and they have deep personal ties to most of the rest. they belong to all of the free peoples even the dwarves, somehow, probably and i feel like that was kind of the old man’s point? so many peoples meet in them, to say they wholly belong to any one species is probably an oversimplification

they sit at a crossroads of potential identities, and rather than narrowing down their worldviews to one single path, they take the hard road and choose all of them. that’s what you need to do, if you want to change the world

and, to bring this back to my ostensible topic, in my estimation at least this mélange of possible selves does include them as fëanorians! it’s not overpowering, but it’s certainly there, and the adults they grow into long after they’ve left the host still bear influence from their childhood

nothing super obvious, nothing that wouldn’t stand out if you didn’t know what to look for, but there’s something almost incandescent in how fiercely elros reaches out for his dreams

there’s something almost defiant in elrond’s drive to be as kind as summer

as for who they publically claim as their family... honestly, it depends. while it’s usually more tactically prudent for elros to connect himself to his various human ancestors, on occasion he does find a use for his free in with the elf mafia, and elrond, code switcher par excellence, is famously the son of whoever is most politically convenient at the moment, which is rarely, but not never, maglor

(in the privacy of their own minds, well, eärendil and elwing may have been the parents elros was supposed to have, but maglor was the parent he actually had, and elros doesn’t particularly care to mope over what might have been. elrond, for his part, figures that after all the shit maglor has put him through, the least that bastard owes him is a father)

but honestly? i think before any of their mountain of identities, before thinking of themselves as sindarin or gondolindel or hadorian or haladin or fëanorian or anything, elrond and elros identify as themselves

they are peredhil, they are númenóreans, they are whoever they make themselves to be. that’s how elrond finally resolved his identity, figured out who he was and found something past the pain and the rage

he wasn’t doriathrin, or gondolindrin, or falathrin, or fëanorian, or whatever else. he was elrond, no more and no less

and that person, elrond, could be whatever he chose to be

... elros came to a similar conclusion, with much less sturm und drang that he’s willing to admit. being able to go ‘hey, i can’t possibly be biased towards any one of your cultures, because i’m descended from all of you and i was raised by murderelves’ makes it a lot easier to unite people around your personal banner, turns out

the stories other people tried to force on them shattered into pieces, and the peredhel twins were free to shape themselves into anything they could dream of

and as the new world struggles alive, these lost children of an Age of death begin to bloom into their full glorious selves -

i just. i love the poetry of that. despite every single shadow that hangs over their past, despite all the clashing notes pulling them apart, they harmonise it all into a greater, kinder theme, determined to make their world a better place in whatever way they can

they fail, of course, but so do all things. the inevitable march of entropy doesn’t diminish the long millennia they (and their descendants) held onto the light

and their growing up in the fëanorian host definitely had a huge effect on the noble lords they became. you can see it in elros’ loud ambition to create a land of happiness and hope, elrond’s quiet resolve to heal all the hurts inflicted by this marred reality

it wasn’t a perfect time by any means, but neither was it a nightmare. it was what it was, a desperate existence at the edge of a knife where, nevertheless, they were loved

even after years upon decades upon centuries have passed, it’s hard for the wise king and the honourable sage to separate out and identify all the conflicting emotions swirling around their childhood. they never knew eärendil or elwing, true, but they also never really knew maglor

not as equals, not as adults, not as people who could truly understand him. he disappeared into the fog of history, leaving only childhood memories of razor-sharp, gentle hands

it’s messy and it’s complicated and getting any real closure would be like shoving their way through a thornbush with bare hands even if elrond could find the shithead, and yet at the core of it all, there is light. not the brightest of lights, maybe, but an enduring one

that contrast, above all, that note of warmth amidst the shadows, is what fascinates me so much about their relationship. three screwed up people in a screwed up world, finding a little peace with each other

and the fact that somehow, it does have a good ending - the children grow up magnificent and compassionate and just, they become exemplars of all their peoples, lodestars of the new world born out of the ashes of the old - that makes it seem to me like this relationship must have contained some fragment of happiness

but, fuck, all the darkness that surrounds that love, all the tangled-up emotions its existence necessitates, all the prefabricated self-identities it can never slot into - nothing about it is simple, nothing about it is easy, and i find that utterly enthralling. especially how, despite everything, that flickering light never goes out

well, i don’t think it does, anyway. my take on this relationship is both complicated enough no one else ever quite gets it right and well-defined enough every single ‘error’ in other people’s interpretations sticks out like a kinslayer in rivendell

it is an entirely self-inflicted problem, i will admit. other people are allowed to interpret those complexities differently from me, and it’s entirely my own fault i lack the :waves hands around nebulously: to write my own hypothetical fic on the subject at a pace faster than glacial

still, though. i do wish there was more fic out there that engaged with these complexities. a lot of the common fandom interpretations of this relationship just sweep it all away

#ask #my terrible headcanons #elros #elrond #maglor #elwing #earendil #feanorians #niphredilien #yellow feathered faerie #putting your old url in the tags for archival purposes #post nyanyannya askbox clearout #ironically it turned out almost as long as the songfic that clogged up my askbox in the first place #and it is DONE #fuck this took forever to write #stayed up late just to get it out the door so i don't have to think about it any more #this is a long ramble and i'm pretty sure the end is just me repeating myself ad nausem sorry #i'll admit to a certain pro-feanorian bias in my interpretation #but i also don't want elros and elrond to just. live in a neverending horrorshow for decades #the silm's cruel enough we don't need that #narratively i feel like elrond being All Of The Elves is a good mirror for elros being All Of The Humans #but it didn't really fit the angle i was going for #bleck #let's see how many followers i lose for this

251 notes · View notes

crysalita · 3 years

Text

Brahms the Boy

Brahms Heelshire x reader

Word Count: 3097

Warnings: Violence, Death, Cole

When I was asked to accompany Greta with her new babysitting job, the last thing I expected was to find a doll that we would be looking after.

I didn’t dare question why we had to look after a porcelain doll because I felt it would be rude to ask, and besides, this just makes everything easier for us.

The house was lovely, slightly creepy, but lovely none of the less. It was a big house for an elderly couple and sometimes I felt so alone, minus the constant feeling of someone watching me.

Every now and then I would here creaks in the walls, but I would brush them off being the fact that the house was quite old.

We were given a set of rules that we were to follow, most of them were okay. I didn’t know how I felt about rule number 4 and rule number 10, never cover Brahms’ face and kiss goodnight.

After finding out that Brahms was capable of moving on his own, I was beginning to be more cautious on the things I did, always keeping an eye out.

“Tell Greta to think about us getting back together.” Cole pleads. I was pulled aside so Cole could convince me to talk to Greta about their, long gone, relationship. “I love her, I really do.”

“She doesn’t want to be with you. She’s moved on.” I reply calmly. I noticed that the more I denied his pleas, the more he was getting angry.

I wince as he grabs a hold of my arm and pulls me close. “You better hope that she wants to get back with me, because if not, she’ll be saying good-bye to you too.” He threatens.

He lets go of my arm and allows me to walk away.

Greta was standing outside of the room, holding onto Brahms. “He wants to talk with you.” I mumbled. I covered my arm behind my back before reaching for Brahms.

I hold onto Brahms tightly as I wait for Greta and Cole to finish their conversation. “Why can’t he just leave her alone.” I whisper to Brahms. “I just wish he would leave.”

Cole was never a personal favourite, for obvious reasons, but I never had the heart to tell Greta all the horrible things he would say to me. She always seemed so in love, and I didn’t want to ruin that for her.

I walk up the stairs and into Brahms room where I lay him down on his bed. I do the usual routine where I tuck Brahms into his bed and left with a goodnight kiss before I walked back to my own room and went to bed.

I was awoken when I heard calls from downstairs, I instantly shot out of bed and ran down. “Greta!” Greta was ahead of me as she entered the room that Cole was staying in. “Get in here.” Cole grabs Greta by the arm and pulls her into the room, me following behind her. “What is this?” We were met with the words ‘get out’ written in, what I could only assume, was blood. “Was this you?”

“I didn’t do that.” My eyes land on Brahms sitting in a chair, directly underneath the message.

“Brahms.” I mutter. I rush over to Brahms where I pick him up and keep him close to me, making sure Cole can’t get to him.

“The doll wrote this? How do we know it wasn’t your psycho bitch friend?” Cole points a finger at me as he scowls. This doesn’t work in his favour as Greta comes over to me and stands beside me. “Ok, fine. It wasn’t either of you. It was the doll.”

With each word, Cole takes a step forward until he’s directly in front of us. “Give me the doll.” I shake my head at his demand and the second he takes another step, I take off running out of the room, tugging Greta to follow along.

“It was me; I swear. Just don’t touch Brahms.”

My lack of direction caused me to end up cornering us in a room as Cole blocked the door. “Give me the doll!” He launches himself forward and grabs Brahms by the legs, shoving me backwards to I hit Greta.

I fall to the ground from the shove, and Malcolm comes running in. “Hey! Get your things and get out of here!” He shouts at Cole.

With the help of Greta, I am able to get back onto my feet and my eyes lock onto Brahms who was being swung around carelessly by Cole. “You know, everyone just seems to be in a big hurry for me to leave. Maybe-” He turns to Malcolm. “Maybe you left that message for me. Huh? Or are you gonna say it was the doll too?”

“Just put Brahms down and we can talk about this.” I attempt to get Cole to leave Brahms alone, but it’s no use.

“Cole, you don’t understand-”

“No, I think I understand exactly what’s going on here. What’s so special about this doll?”

As I go to take a step towards Cole and reach for Brahms, Cole raises Brahms up and swings him back down, causing the doll to hit the edge of a chair and shatter into pieces. The ashes from the doll fly up and I am left in shock. “Brahms.” I mumble.

Suddenly, from inside the walls, we could hear the sound of movement. There were creaks and bangs as well as the lights beginning to flicker. “We need to leave.”

It was as if someone was walking through the walls as everything stopped when it reached a mirror. Cole approaches the mirror and puts his ear to it, in order to hear what’s inside. “We should really go.” Malcolm places a hand on both Greta and me.

“There’s something-” The glass smashes in Cole’s face as he is sent flying back, hitting the ground right in front of us, but that wasn’t what I was focused on.

I was focused on the figure that stood behind the mirror. “Y/n?” My eyes widen as I hear my name being called. “Y/n? Are you okay?” A hand comes out from the mirror followed by the person behind it.

The man hidden behind a mask comes out from the mirror and stands to his full height, towering over Cole who was on the floor in front of him. “Is that-” I begin, but I am cut off by Malcolm.

“It’s Brahms.”

“It can’t be.”

Malcolm runs forward to block Brahms from getting to Cole, but he shoved a way and instead takes a hit to the side of the head with a broken stick of wood.

The man then turns his attention back to Cole and gets on top of him. “Brahms!” I try to stop Brahms from hitting Cole, but once again I find myself on the floor. “Brahms, stop it!” I cry.

Brahms then proceeds to pick up a broken piece from the doll and stabs it straight into Cole’s neck. Blood spills out from the wound and my ears are filled with a chocking sound from Cole.

I stare in shock at the sight in front of me. “Y/n!” My head snaps towards where Greta was standing as she calls me over. This gains Brahms’ attention as he wraps his arms around me and holds me back.

“No!’ I hear his childlike voice whimper. A bit of me broke when I heard him say that, but he also just killed a man right in front of me. "Please, no.”

“Brahms, let her go!” Brahms’ arms tighten around me as he pulls me close.

Brahms’ turn us around and walks us towards the open spot in the wall.

I hear the sound of someone getting hit and then Brahms’ arms loosen around me, and I yanked out of his grip.

Greta holds on as we run up the stairs and into her room that she was staying in. By now I was breathing heavily, whether it was from the amount of running I have done today, or because of how terrified I am, I wasn’t too sure.

Malcolm frantically runs around the room as he looks for a way of escaping. “Maybe he doesn’t want to hurt us.” The door handle then begins to rattle as Brahms tries to get in.

“Maybe he doesn’t want to hurt you, but he just killed Cole.” Greta replies. The rattling stops and we start hearing the creaking from inside the wall. “The closet!” Greta runs over to the door and slams it shut. I assist Greta in holding the door shut as Malcolm looks around the room.

A plank from the door is smashed in and Brahms’ arm comes through, grabbing a hold of me again. My hand reaches up to release myself from the hold, and as my hand connects with Brahms, I feel him go tense.

The door opens and Brahms is met with a hit in the face, or mask, from Malcolm who was holding a telephone.

We are, once again, running out of the room and heading into another. “Look.” I point over to the hole in the wall. “We can go through there.” I take the lead as we run through the inside of the wall.

We dodge past pipes and chunks in of the wall that is sticking out.

We find ourselves in a whole new room that looks to be where Brahms has been staying. It was messy and the room smelt foul.

I recognise some things in the room that were once mine, for example, bits of jewellery, notes, and even some clothes. “Y/n, over here.” Greta was standing by a bed, and it was then that I saw the makeshift doll that was wearing a dress of mine that I had lost. The had been decorated with all things that I had lost over the time that I was staying here, and I didn’t miss the magazines and tissues that were scrunched up around the doll.

Beside the bed, and on the nightstand, was a piece of paper. On the paper had the words 'I love you Y/n.’ I didn’t know how to feel about that. Whether I should be flattered, or absolutely mortified at how creepy this all was.

“We will not be back, the girl is yours now, to love and keep.” Greta was reading another piece of paper that she had found. “They were never coming back. He’s been living in the walls this whole time, watching us, or more Y/n. They knew.” Malcolm comes down and guides us to the exit.

I take one last look back at the room before I leave.

We climb down the ladder and quietly make our way out, the only source of light being from the gaps between the wooden planks.

We are stopped when the wall comes caving in and Brahms falls down on top of Malcolm. Brahms is kicked in the face causing him to fall backwards, this way we could drag Malcolm up to his feet.

I feel an ounce of excitement when we end up finding a door that would take us outside, but I also felt sad. I didn’t want to leave this house; I grew attached in such little amount of time.

“It’s locked.” Greta shoves herself into the door in order to open it, but I am too distracted by what is about to come.

Malcolm shoves past me and is tackled to the ground by Brahms.

Fists are swung left to right, but in the end Brahms is the one that comes out on top as he smashes Malcolm’s head into the ground.

“Y/n!” The child voice breaks through. “Y/n!” Brahms’ head turns towards me as I watch his eyes behind the mask. They light up when we make eye contact, something that made me melt inside. “I’ll be good, I promise.” He peers through the pipes.

I look back at Greta who was still desperately trying to make an escape. “Please, Y/n. Don’t leave me.” Brahms begs. Greta shakes her head at me, and I send her a small smile.

“Go, I’ll stay.”

“What? Y/n, no!” I keep my eyes locked with her, but I don’t bother saying anything. “Okay but be safe.” Greta gets the door unlocked and runs out.

I turn back to Brahms who held his hand out towards me. “It’s okay, I won’t hurt you.” He says innocently. I hesitantly place my hand in his and he gently helps me out.

My eyes stray everywhere else but Brahms and Malcolm, who I wasn’t even sure if he was alive at this point. “Thank you, Y/n. You’re the only person that wouldn’t leave me.” Brahms speaks.

I didn’t know if he’s child voice made the situation better or worse, when he spoke, I felt as if he wouldn’t hurt me, or anyone for that matter, but by the two bodies lying on the ground, I knew that I was far from right.

“I told you I wouldn’t leave you.” I remember all the times where I had whispered to the doll Brahms, that I would never leave him alone. “But it’s bedtime, and you know the rules.” His shoulders drop as he nods his head.

Brahms guides me through the confined space in the walls and even helps me step over bits that are sticking out of the floor. “I love you, Y/n. You will never leave me.” Brahms whispers. I silently nod along in agreement and then we are finally out of the small gap and are in Brahms’ room.

I walk over to the bed and lift the covers. “Lay down.” I order. He follows along with what I say and keeps his arms tucked underneath the blanket. Behind the mask, his eyes follow my every movement. “Good boy Brahms, now go to sleep.”

“Kiss?” He mumbles.

I debate on whether I should actually do what he says, but since he was following the rules, the most I could do was follow them too, even if he didn’t necessarily deserve it.

I slowly lean down until I am right above Brahms’, his eyes were piercing through me. I place a gentle kiss right beside the lips of his mask before I pull away, only to be stopped when Brahms’ sits up.

He doesn’t say anything, but instead releases his arms out from underneath the covers and pulls me back down to him in an awkward kiss.

The porcelain lips were cold against my own, and I was unsure of what to do.

I place my hands on Brahms’ shoulders and push him down. “Go to sleep Brahms.” I smile. I watch as his eyes close and then I walk out of the room, flicking the light off along the way.

I walk back downstairs to see Greta walking back in. “Y/n!” She runs towards me and pulls me in for a hug. “You’re okay.” She checks over my body.

“I’m fine but listen. I’m gonna stay.” I tell Greta. Her eyebrows furrow as she looks at me with confusion.

“No, Y/n. You’ll-”

“Get Malcolm and leave. I’ll be okay, I promise.” Her eyes held a sense of sadness in them as they glossed over with tears. “He won’t hurt me; he just wants someone to stay with him. I’ll call you often, don’t worry about me, and don’t go to the police about this, please.” I explain.

It took Greta some time, but she eventually ended up giving in. “Okay, I won’t go to the police, but as soon as I feel that something has happened, I will be storming up that footpath, with murder on my mind, you hear me?” I nod my head at her threat.

“Let’s go get Malcolm, and check if he’s fine, I’m not even sure if he’s alive.” I lead Greta up to the room that I knew would lead us down to Malcolm, the only problem is that that was the same room that Brahms was in. I peak my head in the room to see that he was now sitting up right, staring over at us.

As soon as he sees Greta he stands up and reaches for a weapon. “Wait, Brahms!” I run forward and stop him from grabbing something. “She’s going to get Malcolm and then she’s going to leave.” Brahms eyes Greta with a look of anger. “They won’t bother us any longer.” His eyes snap down to mine and then he nods his head, pointing over at the trap door that leads us to the wall. “I will stay, I promise.” Brahms gets back into his bed, and I take Greta with me through the walls.

When we stumble across Malcolm, he was just waking up as he rubs the back of his head. “Malcolm!” Greta greets Malcolm with a hug as she checks his wounds.

“Are you girls alright? Where’s Brahms?”

“We’re fine, but Y/n, she’s going to stay here, with Brahms.” Greta tells Malcolm. He looks over at me like I was some crazy girl, which I couldn’t blame him for.

“Are you out of your mind? He’ll hurt you.”

“Then I’ll be the only one to blame. Look, I don’t want to leave him alone again, he doesn’t have his parents anymore. He needs someone.”

“That’s not your job to keep him company, he is a sick person who needs help-” I interrupt Malcolm before he can continue with his insults.

“I want to stay, Malcolm, and that’s that. Leave while you still have a chance.” The door to the outside was still left wide open from when Greta had run through, leaving them with the perfect opportunity to make their escape. “I’ll call you tomorrow, Greta.”

“Yeah, if you’re still alive.” Malcolm mumbles. He crawls out the door leaving myself and Greta alone.

“Be safe Y/n, please.” We exchange a hug before she takes off behind Malcolm and I shut the door, letting out a sigh as I do so.

I take my time walking back and when I finally reach Brahms’ room, he was standing up and waiting. “You took too long, I got scared.” He whimpers.

Brahms’ fiddles with his hands as he stands across the room from me. “How about you sleep in my bed tonight?” I’m not sure why I decided to say that, but the look in Brahms’ eyes was enough to make me not regret the offer.

He was happy, so, so was I.

#brahms heelshire #brahms x reader #brahms heelsire x reader #brahms the boy #the boy 2016 #the boy #Slashers #slashers x readers #slashers fandom #fanfiction

227 notes · View notes

chainofclovers · 3 years

Text

Ted Lasso 2x10 thoughts

GOOD GOD.

“No Weddings and a Funeral” is like being hungover but also coming out of a hangover. Having a terrible cold but also feeling better and appreciating every breath that comes through your nose. Embarking on an organizational project and accidentally falling into a photo album and crying about the pictures and organizing almost nothing tangible but making a few things more clear in your brain.

So much of this episode is about the AWFUL POINTLESSNESS OF DECORUM. How loud is too loud when you’re drinking stolen wine and shrieking about sex in a church right before your father’s funeral? How should you feel--thirty years later, as an accommodating, anger-averse person--about having been too angry to attend the funeral for your father who killed himself? What expression should you make when you show up really late to a different funeral? Why must you wear uncomfortable shoes just because someone died? What happens in your mind between standing up to give a eulogy for a man you’re still angry with and choosing to Rick Roll your mom and everyone else as an act of complicated love, humiliatingly incomplete until someone else starts to sing? Should you worry about your therapist seeing your normally tidy flat in a full-on state of depression mess? Is it okay to be offended that your boyfriend is so uncomfortable about death that he can’t stop making morbid jokes? Should you care about other people caring that you’re crunching an apple in church or squealing with joy to be reunited with a friend you’ve not seen in awhile? Are you obligated to explain your behavior if your kid doesn’t understand how you could stay with someone unfaithful? How far behind the counter should you sink when your [undefined relationship person]’s mother has just let you know she can see your dick through your underwear? Is a funeral reception an okay place to find a hookup? Is a funeral reception a decent spot for a break-up? Is a funeral reception a good time for a love confession when you know the person you’re confessing to is happy with someone else? And who do you make eye contact with when you can’t look directly at the person asking you if you’re okay when there’s so, so much about you she doesn’t know yet? Even if--for this tiny little moment within a vast swath of many okay and not-okay moments--you’re honest when you tell her that you are?

I fucking adored this episode because it answers all these questions very simply: Show up. Show up for yourself. Show up for your friends. Try not to harm yourself. Try not to harm your friends.

I love that this episode is about the messiness of adulthood and the things we bring with us from childhood and that it takes place partially in Rebecca’s childhood bedroom, and in Ted’s childhood memories. Dwelling in those places (whether physically or mentally) isn’t an automatic recipe for regression, but it does get everyone closer to the things that made them who they are, to the unresolved and half-buried parts of them that still make them tick today.

Forever obsessed with every single detail about Rebecca’s childhood bedroom.

Forever obsessed with Deborah’s decision to Rick Roll herself every single morning of her life.

Forever obsessed with Rebecca’s decision to Rick Roll her father’s funeral as a way to not have to make up a single word about her father and to do something very vulnerable and kind for herself and her mother and everyone.

Forever obsessed with Ted’s decision to Rick Roll Rebecca Rick Rolling her father’s funeral.

Forever obsessed with an entire found family backing it up.

I love that it is Isaac’s leadership that ensures every single member of the team attends the service for Paul.

I am very, very interested in Jamie’s love confession to Keeley because I do think it will spark some reflection in Keeley but I do not think it’ll go the cliched love triangle route.

Each scene with Rebecca and Sam struck (for me, a human being sharing a subjective perspective on the internet) the tender-awkward-beautiful-stressful chord I was hoping it would. I think it’s wonderful that Sam is honest with Rebecca about how difficult it is to keep their relationship a secret, and I love that Rebecca has a million mostly-unarticulated reasons for why she’d much prefer the secret to continue. I like that Sassy, Keeley, and Nora respond to the revelation as friends; they might be tempering their judgments in part because they’ve all gathered to bury Rebecca’s dad, but I don’t think their reactions would’ve been that different even on a happier occasion.

While there are a million and one different reasons why a continued relationship between Rebecca and Sam could cause serious ethical problems, I really love that when people share big news on this show, the people who care about them generally react by trying to see why the person is doing what they’re doing. Doesn’t mean they shouldn’t also hold each other accountable, but in my book it’s OK that Keeley’s first reaction was to feel happy that her friend is having some fun.

Also everyone has been making weird judgment calls this season, and this episode felt like a moment of real breakthroughs in terms of people telling the truth about things that happened to them and leaving themselves open to honest responses from others.

September 13, 1991. It’s so tenderly, beautifully, overwhelmingly meaningful that there’s still so much Ted and Rebecca don’t know about the things they have in common in these parallel lives they’re leading. The scene between Sarah Niles and Jason Sudeikis is so beautifully acted, and so is the scene between Hannah Waddingham and Harriet Walter. The way they intertwine to communicate that Ted and Rebecca basically lost the ability to trust their fathers simultaneously, from an ocean away? In the hands of lesser storytellers, it would feel too perfect a mirroring, but here it feels heartbreakingly imperfect. All the things they still don’t know. All the questions they try to ask each other. All the things they don’t dare ask yet. And then the storytellers are holding a candle up to all of it and letting the audience bask in the glow of this connection even if Ted and Rebecca can’t fully understand it yet.

I am so proud that Rebecca and Deborah were able to embark on the beginnings of a conversation about the ways Deborah and Paul’s relationship might have resembled or not resembled Rebecca and Rupert’s. It feels possible that they could get to a point where Rebecca truly internalizes her mother’s pride that she broke a cycle by leaving Rupert, and could maybe even understand why her mother made the choices she made. I love that in the final scene, they’re still relying on their old mother-daughter conversational patterns—the frustrations, the snippy shorthand, the passive-aggression. Mothers and daughters!

I am also proud that Ted—albeit via a joke about Sharon charging him for the house call—indicates that he understands the value of Sharon’s work. He’s changed a lot, all in realistic ways for someone who loves learning and really does want to meet people where they are and appreciate them. I’m very moved that instead of putting himself in a real harmful situation by showing up to the funeral on time at any cost, he did what he needed to do to take care of himself and accept care from someone else. And then Sharon’s suggestion that he think about things he loved about his father? And the way he’s able to share a positive memory of Rebecca’s own father at a time when she really needed it? Gosh.

Awkward, undecorous transition from 1991 to present-day incoming...but SASSY! She’s just, like, a whirling dervish of loyal friendship and not giving a fuck and penis size discussions and being casually, delightfully cruel to Rupert, who so deserves it. Rebecca was going on a real face journey when Sassy goes off with Ted at the end, and I’m sort of *eyes emoji* about all of that, but I continue to feel like Sassy is the most imperfectly wonderful friend-from-the-past kind of person and I love everything she and Nora get to do in this episode.

Keeley saying “That baby is whack” might be my favorite line in the episode? Maybe the whole show? Not really but really.

FUCK YOU, RUPERT. Bex and Diane, y’all are fine. And I truly feel for Nate...whatever scheme he’s getting suckered into. Whatever insecurity Rupert is preying on. I want Nate to go to therapy, too.

I feel like it was an unpopular opinion at the time, but I loved Rebecca’s 2x1 revelation about vulnerability and fear of getting hurt and needing to let someone love her. Sassy doesn’t always word things in the most nuanced way, but I think there’s a real possibility that she did ask Rebecca to really consider what it means to feel either safe or unsafe with a person but to know that in either circumstance, that person could end up causing her pain. Standing in that closet with Sam, managing to make it clear that she’s not asking for a break because she knows he will hurt her but because she has to figure out how to be with a wonderful person who could cause her pain...the growth, man. Makes me emotional.

I emerged from this episode feeling, of course, stunned by all the amazing parallels and revelations and beautiful acting and Rick Rolls and just, everything. I also emerged feeling sad/raw/tender because messiness and decorum and growth and coping mechanisms and death and dramatic irony and not knowing things about people and not knowing what you don’t know...it’s a sad, raw, tender place to be.

To quote a guy who got a whole sitcom (lol) named after him, life is real hard.

#ted lasso #ted lasso s2 spoilers #meta by me #ted lasso 2x10 #a lesbian watches ted lasso #lotta feelings in here y'all #cw suicide

132 notes · View notes

siriusmydeer · 3 years

Text

george weasley smut alphabet

george weasley x fem!reader

warnings: at this point i don’t even know what to write, seggsy things

a/n: that took 3 days holy shit

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

ok molly taught him to be respectful alright, always treat your lady well. kisses, showering, praise, love, affection, cuddles. the whole nine yards, not one step left behind.

“c’mon, dove, y’gotta get up. please, f’me?” the boy slightly-slurred, pulling up your hair slightly damp from sweat, grasping it all into double french braids. showering you, meanwhile showing you immense praise and affection; kissing from your ankle points all the way to the apple of your cheeks, and dressing you in the process.

“mhmm, don’t wanna.” you proceeded to mumble, your body begging you to sleep and rest; feeling immense of exhaustion from previous rounds. finishing the braid in your hair, the red head picked you up and placed you onto the red-plaid comforter of the bed.

your body starting to meld with the mattress, and breathing becoming heavier almost delving your subconscious into the realm of sleep; feeling him slip under you and place your head right on his bare skin, feeling the bone of his sternum.

“did i... did i do well?” you murmured through fatigue, yearning to feel the warmth and affection of your boyfriend while his heart beat lulled you like a baby from a lullaby to a deep hearted sleep.

“you’ll always do perfect for me, forever ‘n ever.”

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

ok so, he loves his hands. they’re big, and skinny, and his fingers are long. i mean he catches you looking at them all the time so it also happens to be a nice ego boost. george’s self esteem has kinda always been there but it hasn’t been amazing, but when you came in the picture then it was like 📈

“george, georgie, please. s’too much, too much.” your vision had been immensely bleary for the last few minutes due to pleasureful tears dripping from your waterline. your fingers tried to find the closest thing they could grapple at, george’s hands.

after three continuous rounds, george had been finger fucking you for the last thirty minutes pushing you to vast overstimulation. you had the feeling of pins and needles dance upon your cunt; the waves of pain and pleasure mixing into your nervous system and sprawling throughout your entire body.

you grasped ahold of his ivory-toned hand, trying to beg for his mercy; yet none was shown, this was your punishment. he reclined his hand that had a tense hand on your thigh, now directly on your abdomen pressing you back onto the messy comforter bed keeping his hand placed there.

seeing the arch of your spine in his direct view, seeing your face slightly contort in delectation as he hit the g-spot with the pads of his fingers. feeling the intense pride on how he could get you, so delighted and filled with pleasure at his decree.

“taking it like such a good girl, you’re a good girl, aren’t you?”

he likes tits, i mean... HE GIVES THE VIBE. like if he could he would hold them, squish them, kiss them, mark them in anyway he wanted FOREVER. which he would, but he couldn’t 24/7 so he took his opportunities when he could.

“hello george, how are you? i’m great, thanks for asking.” you chortled with intense sarcasm after your boyfriends sudden disruption from your reading and dramatically bursting into your dormitory and shoving his face into your chest beneath your his t-shirt.

“shhh, i need a minute of peace please.” he hushed you, feeling his lips suck a little on the flesh of your sternum, his voice incredibly muttered from the smothering of your boobs onto his mouth. feeling the vibrations from his lips send a mini-shockwave through your spine and attempting to repress an overdue shiver.

he left light kisses, from his previous red splotch, as he moved more underneath your shirt praising your skin as you chuckled a bit. his ginger hair tickled your neck as he continued, “my tits are peaceful?” you questioned, yet again in a sarcastic tone awaiting his response.

“yea, immensely.”

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person) (isa i could kiss u for this one)

so, messy messy man. on your tits, on your thighs, on your face, on your STOMACH, on your ass and his fave.... inside of you <3 he just loves to see it on you, it turns him on again no matter how many times you’ve been at it.

que: birth control potions, because i’m pretending they exist and creampies are fun.

“gonna— gonna finish, where d’you want me?” the boy heaved while doing continuous thrusts deep into the walls of your cunt. furthering your grasp onto the clenched biceps and forearms that laid tense beside your perspired face.

“inside me, please. want it inside me.” your voice was winded and huffed, feeling the euphoric pleasure crinkle and bend onto your nervous system from your orgasam lull you into a relaxation, while your boyfriend continued to thrust into your overused cunt of the night.

feeling his tepid release stick into the planes of your thighs and a light sheen layer onto the lower abdomen of your torso. feeling the dripping of his cum directly laid upon your skin. the contrast between his release and your flesh looking almost exquisite in his view point.

you were so beautiful, so beautifully messy.

currently clenched around his prick you felt the tremble in his cock as he released into the velvet walls of your cunt, remaining inside of you as he caught his breath between his lungs from his swift thrusts.

“gonna keep you all full, yeah?”

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

george is in fact, a switch. like when he’s dom, he’s soft dom. but when he’s sub, he’s whiny and extremely forward in begging. it took him awhile to tell you because he felt embarrassed but after that you guys had a lot of... fun ;)

“please, please, ‘m sorry. i promise!” he griped, pulling on the silk on his restraints regulating the control of his wrists that laid on his lower back. “but georgie, isn’t this what you wanted? to be punished?” you sent a faux pout in his direction, your finger tips dancing upon his clenched torso once again edging the boy upon his ration.

“but, but—“ the boy faltered whilst speaking, trying to excuse his actions of venturing to grasp your attention whilst you were busy with another task, and disregarding you both friends pleas. “c’mon, georgie. you were bad, this is your punishment; if i hear anymore you won’t cum for a week.” you chastised, seeing his eyes widen in fright and obnoxiously nod his head in compliance.

your brought your hand back to his prick, thumb slightly outlining the slit in his tip; his most sensitive spot causing a small groan to escape his lips subconsciously, his back slightly melding off of the mattress and arching into the air at your pressure.

attempting to repress his pleasureful shivers that were scratching at his sensorium, his cock basically at your dictation for his release.

“you’re being punished, not pleasured.” you chastised once again, sprawling you hand on his abdomen pushing his back directly onto the ridged comforter once more.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

so people would agree to disagree, but george lost it first. i don’t think george would do one night stands, they were always with past girlfriends but you are the girl he truly put his all into.

“and you’re sure?” the boys frantically questioned once more, he had been previously skittish about if the both of you were ready to go into the next stage of your relationship; wanting your full consent to continue with anything.

and worrying that some kinks he had in mind might’ve been to much for future references, and just yearning for you to feel as comfortable as possible.

“told you, georgie, i want all of you.” the question was heaved through your words from the foreplay that had taken a gust of your air right out from under of you.

“we’ve talked about this darling, ‘m ready.” adding on to your comment, reassuring the boy who seemed to be faintly timorous on his next action that was soon to take place. you caressed his forearm, feeling the rigid bends of his veins over the pads of your finger tips. your other hand maneuvering itself on the curvature of his neck and bringing his lips to slot with your own.

feeling the comforting and familiar taste of pumpkin and cinnamon transfuse onto your tongue in the midst of feeling his plush lips blend with yours.

“i’m ready, want you inside of me.”

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

any position where he can see your face, he can see your body, he can see all of you. he wants to kiss you, mark you, caress you. he wants everything he wants to feel so connected with you.

“you my darling.” he spoke, sighing as he spoke. in between words of his affirmations, splotching small kisses that bore on the planes of your lower abdomen and shifting his way up your bare-body.

“are the most ethereal thing, to ever exist.” the boy continued in his wake of appraisal, of your complete quintessence and soul.

“i love you.” you whispered in a small, barely audible murmur in appreciation of the red head you had been destined with. he was truly put in your path of life to give and receive love and adoration. “i love you.” the boy whispered back at your confession, muffled into the flesh above your sternum.

continuing to leave small vermillion hues of colour, making his way to the the junction of your neck and resuming with his praises of adorations of your complete essence.

the scarlet-haired boy was completely entranced with every element of your being, almost besotted with your every move. always wanted to praise, and adore every aspect of you in anyway he could possible.

“no, i love you more.” he corrected himself, undeserving of your mutual appreciation.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

healthy use of both. sometimes you guys have your super serious moments and other times you guys are giggling together.

“oh merlin, i really hope fred did not hear that.” you spoke through a sporadic chortle, your previous whimper being a little bit too raucous. the both of your wands misplaced and unable to cast a muffling charm meant you and george had to be as quiet as possible.

“y/n, he definitely did. let’s hope he’s asleep.” george making an effort to whisper but his own disgustingly humours mind getting too himself and letting chuckle slip out from his lips mid-sentence.

“i didn’t say stop, keep going!” you hastily spoke, sending a cheeky grin in faux annoyance at him as he continued his slow but intensely deep thrusts in your pulsing cunt, the both of you close to a release.

you were deeply trying to muffle your pleasureful noises from the palm of your hand, but discreetingly failing as you let another strangled moan bubble from your vocal cords.

both you and george looking at eachother frantic for a moment, completely silent and worried if one of his dorm mates had heard the both of you. silent for a moment then chuckling together whilst bumping noses at the voyeuristic acts that were being taken place in his very bed.

“oi, some of us are trying to sleep here!”

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

yes the fucking carpet matches the damn drapes HE HAS A CARROT CROTCH DO NOT TELL ME OTHERWISE. as for grooming, i think he just just have a stubble? like i don’t feel like he cares to much about hair so he would just shave most of it off. as for u he does not give a fuck, as long as you like yourself he likes you so it does not matter at all for him.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

ITS GEORGE WEASLEY IF UR NOT EXPECTING ROMANCE AND INTIMACY 89% OF THE TIME GO REEVALUATE. i’m not saying he’s not rough or not kinky, but he’s very intimate with you especially during aftercare. if he’s feeling special, like on anniversaries, birthdays, or days he wanted to make you feel really really good he would bring out rose petals, floating candles i mean he would WHIP OUT A LAVENDER OIL DEFUSER OR SOMETHING?

the floor was coated in tons vermillion bloomed rose petals, the scent of cinnamon and fresh linnen was intense through the air of the newly-cleaned dormitory, the fresh ivory bed made and the pillows slightly puffed to perfection.

“just, y’know, one last birthday surprise?” the red-head boy muttered staring at the scarlet-shaded floors whilst attempting to distract himself by fumbling his clammy hands into the pockets of his overworn grey slacks.

“d’you like it?” george continued to mutter, his eyes staggering around the room he had prepared for you both that night so he could kiss, cherish and adulate your entire being till the depths of early morning sunrise.

“georgie, i— i love it.” you felt perspiration sting in the waterlines of your eyes as you stammered slightly in shock, intense adoration and tenderness hastily speeding through your bloodstream hitting you directly into the warmth of your heart.

facing said-boy, you looked at him with complete fondness, grasping upon of his hand that was resting in his slacks now in the palm of your own comically-smaller hand.

“it’s truly amazing.”

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

gonna be honest here, not really. unless he wasn’t seeing you for like weeks, like during a holiday or something. even then i feel like he would imagine you were doing it to him, like whenever he was feeling needy he would normally just go to you and you were more than happy to oblige to his request.

“oh— fuck me.” the boy groaned while stroking his cock in quick circular motions, the other hand preoccupied with a risqué polaroid photo of you that you had sent him in the mail during the winter holidays.

it wasn’t the easiest being away from him during the winter holidays and his randomly occurring hard-ons apparently happened to occur more frequently without a desirable girlfriend around and more time to use your undesirable hand.

attempting to finish himself off fairly quickly so he could scoundrel himself back to bed counting the days till you would dramatically reunite on the hogwarts express and more than likely pull you away from peering eyes for a quickie in the bathroom.

just the thought of your beautiful skin melding with his own in the humid air of the bathroom made him spurt his release all over his prick and a groan emerging from his throat in the process.

“fuck.”

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

he has a innocence kink.... like the thought of teaching you everything like in bed makes his mind go WEEE WOO WEEE WOOO

now i shall elaborate

“pretty girl, does it feel good?” he crooned into the shell of your ear, feeling the tense grasp of your agile hands on his clothed biceps where his dress shirt laid on him and suddenly crinkled from your clasp onto him.

“mhm— yes, yes georgie.” you gasped mid sentence, trying to catch your breath from the new sensations that had washed over your nerves, feeling new pleasureful burning sensations in the pit of your abdomen and run along the curvature of your spine.

attempting to suppress small moans you continued petite chokes of air in ecstasy feeling george’s pads of his fingers dance upon your clit. “oh— fuck.” you muttered in a form of a bleary headspace trying to manage a coherent thought.

the red-head grinned in gratification, your full pleasure at his decree, knowingly giving you these new sensations. “i thought you were an innocent girl, now you’re my dirty one?” the boy mocked at your trembling figure in his lap.

“maybe you’re not my innocent girl after all.”

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

in my head.... he likes voyerism. don’t ask me why but the thrill of someone catching y’all 🤪

so i will no would have to say that he likes his dormitory a lot but i also feel like he likes the common room couch.

“oh, fuck—“ the moan has blossomed out of your throat and tinged in the previously solemn and peaceful common room, but now the air felt humid and extremely titillating common room that had been used for social and cuticular activities now being used for intercourse.

“darling if you’re not quiet we’re going to be caught.” the vibrations of his words directly muffled onto your perspired flesh, due to his manipulation of your body strictly at his will. “so good, daddy, so so good.” the words mildly uttered from your throat due to the infrequent gasps of pleasure between your words.

the both of you fused together passionately on the snug common room sofa in the late hours of the night, to be caught in a very comprising position by a student or supervisor if not subtle enough. the fire being your only production of light source throughout the entire room, dismissed in the backround close to being burnt out entirely.

“but daddy, you make me feel so good.” you’re voice tinged into a slightly higher pitch, feeling his deep thrusts enclosed inside of your cunt, your attempted muffles of rising gasps and lament whimpers to be heard significantly prominent throughout the walls of the vermillion shaded common room.

“awe slut, you want everyone to know how i’m making you feel?”

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

so since georgie is a switch i feel like most of his motivation comes from when you’re bossy, outside of the bedroom. telling him what to do, how to do it, having to fix it for him. because either he’s gonna punish you for thinking you can be in charge or he’s gonna do literally everything you tell him too without a second thought.

“ok so for today, we’re not playing around here, you finish your charms, then we have lunch, we do transfiguration together, play some quidditch with fred, eat dinner, and then free period to do whatever we want, got it?” your hastily speeding voice catching the attention of his ears and consuming every single word that you had to say.

you glanced at him for a moment, his eyes slightly out of zone but still attentive to your words, also wanting to distinguish if he had been following to the list you had for the day so he could ultimately stop procrastinating and get his work done.

“yeah, er, i got it.” george spoke awkwardly for a moment, trying to discreetly shuffle around his body at the feeling of immense amount of pressure and tensity starting to form around his groin.

you raised a brown, you’re forehead slightly creasing as you tested the waters at his slightly timid figure and lack of response. “do i need to make you repeat it back to me.” tilting your head, trying to pan off as more intimidating so the red-head would coherently listen to you rather than pawn off and work on a prank with his mischievous-twin.

“no, no— i’m fi— you’re fine.” he groaned and he hesitated mid-sentence aiming to speak as casually as possible, moderately shuffling around his pants as he spoke at your firm and unyielding tone with him.

“you’re sure? because if you’ve got it wrong i’m going to upset, got it?” your voice at an adamant expression, annunciating that everything for the day was going to be smooth sailing rather than difficult and irritating for either of you.

“no, i understand.” he cleared his throat in compliance, aiming to remove any unnerving tension that might be there as he awkwardly trailed behind you to the library.

not to mention with a rock hard cock just sitting in his plants.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

threesomes. “bUt pArIs” NO. he would not want to share you, he had literally had to share everything his whole life and seeing his twin brother or literally anyone else pleasure you is a big fat NONO

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

he’s a giver, if u say no, ur lying. hearing you go literally whimper, tremble, moan at HIS will that’s enough for him to cream his pants.

“georgie— fuck. keep going.” your praised the boy deep between your legs, your words of appraisal going straight to his groin area whilst you threaded you fingers directly into his damp ginger locks.

feeling his tongue swirl directly onto your engorged clit, small gasps emitting from your mouth as his face was buried into your cunt for the last hour. the exceedingly amount of ecstasy built up into a broiling pit in your belly and ready to explode at any given moment.

“‘m gonna cum, gonna finish.” you gasped, feeling his tongue prodding at your entrance, his thumb placed directly onto your swollen cunt and swirling in figure eight like motions to make your orgasam rapidly occur.

his prick immensely hard, beseeching for a release. his nearest output being the subtle grind of his hips and the soft mattress of the bed as you continued to sensually yank at his hair.

feeling the overflow of desire, the whimpers exceeding from your lips and the pressure against his cock made his orgasam occur midst your own; finishing together the only thing to be heard was your heaving breaths and george’s hoarse voice from not speaking for the last while.

“so, i might’ve just done something.”

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

i feel like he’s very medium paced, he’s not to fast nor slow. he has his moments where it’s very slow and loving or if he just lost a quidditch game and it’s very fast in rough. i don’t think it’s set on just one i think it varies.

“needy little slut, just wanted me so badly, hmm?” the grit in george’s teeth prominent as he spoke to you, the tensity of his hands on grip of your waist also clinically distinguished as he pulsed in and out of your from behind.

“fuck— please.” the begging was evident in your tone, feeling the grasp on your waist and he plunged into you emitting gasps every few seconds from desire. his hand grasped onto the root of your tresses, your cheek melding with the mattress and a moan exploding from your trachea at his aggressive demeanour.

“please—“ you continued you beg, not for anything in specific but the feeling of him to continue his thrusts and not falter his pace. the feeling of being exceedingly full of him, the explicit belligerent emotion he was feeling and turning that into passion.

knees bucking at his will as he continued the fast and thrown pace that was previously endured. feeling the ecstasy rome freely through your veins as he degraded you.

“my slut, so dirty.”

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

so... george wants to appreciate you fully. and i don’t think either of you would be so horny that he had to just pull you in a broom closet. even if it’s fast and rough aftercare is still extremely keen to him after having sex no matter the circumstances so i don’t think he would be into quickies.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.) - this was in fact somewhat inspired by 50 shades of grey

george is the kinkier twin. there i said it, and i will not change my mind. yeah he’s more quiet whatever more emotional, throughful BUT THOSE ARE ALWAYS THE ONES WHO ARE KINKIER. i so as long as you were cool with it i feel like he would be as-well.

“so you wanna play, dove?” running the tip of the small blade down the depth of your torso, and across your abdomen seeing the heaving rise and fall of your torso. the slight scarlet-coloured ribbon peaking from underneath the arch of your back that restrained both of your wrists.

“yes, sir.” the mumble was stern, and tense but slightly heaved from apprehension on what he would do with the tip of the stygian-coloured blade that was held in his ivory hand. your safe word explicitly-clear before he had restricted your eyesight.

a slow light vermillion trailed in its wake from the tip of the blade that moved across the skin of your navel. he heard the audible gasp release from your mouth in anticipation.

“keep going, please.”

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

so i feel like george goes for like.... 3? but he definitely does foreplay and stuff too. so it’s like a healthy mix of a lot. so a couple of rounds, sometimes more, sometimes less, it all depends on the time like early in the morning or really late at night.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

so, i don’t think so. so the only thing i feel like he would have is like ropes/ties and blindfolds. other than that i don’t think so, but fred has definitely gifted you something just for the kick of it all.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

i feel like it depends if he’s more sub or more dom. if he’s dom he will tease you all he likes just to see you squirm, but if he’s sub then he definitely will wants you to tease him.

“georgie, please, i cant take it anymore.” you pleaded, your tone was soft but irritated, the continuous edging was extremely displeasing for you. you wanted him, you wanted to feel every withering inch of him, his body, his essence; but he simply wouldn’t give it to you.

“c’mon, weren’t you the one who ‘said patience is a virtue.’ you’ve got to be patient then, right dove?.” george made a mockery of something you had in a different context but instead he used it to his advantage.

his middle finger crept its way back to the depth of your navel and right on your cunt, starting recurrent swirls on your engorged clit. feeling a similar sensation that you had previously endured till your denied orgasam.

“be patient, or you won’t be getting anything.”

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

i feel like it’s a lot of grunting and dirty talk, or even just praising. there’s more moaning when doing oral. it’s not necessarily loud but you can clearly hear it.

“my pretty little witch.” the words of appraisal blossomed from his mouth as he kissed upon the column of your neck and the bend of your shoulders. he proceeded to kiss around the shell of your ear and speaking.

“nobody can make me feel the way you can.” george murmured making sure you know, followed by a pleasureful grunt by the way your cunt was continuously clenching around his cock and the way your hand grasped at his lower back.

“oh, merlin—“ your voice sounded like a gasp, arching your back directly into his freckled chest from his prick prodding at your cervix, you’re breathing was heaved from his continuous thrusts that faltered as he was close to release and exceedingly praised into your perspired skin.

“i love you so much.”

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

george likes pda. i’m not talking like sex in the great hall or obnoxiously making out in the courtyard but he does like to show everyone that you are together.

“georgie if you kiss me again fred is going to throw up.” the murmur sent vibrational waves into the boys cheek your own affections shown at the proximity between you both, partly because the incessant chatter of the great hall.

“and? you’re my girl.” the statement was clear as day in his eyes, he wanted to show everyone just how much he loved you, the intimacy in the situation between two teenagers who were in love; he didn’t care what anyone else had to say.

you looked at him for a moment with challenging eyes, seeing the intimacy in his own cocoa-coloured ones. poorly making an effort to suppress a grin at his affections.

he took his opportunity to press a kiss to your plush-smooth lips, then the hued rose coloured flesh on your cheek, then the tip of your pointed nose.

“i love you, i won’t not show that because my git brother doesn’t like it.”

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

i feel like it’s a bit bigger than average, probably around 8in when hard? i think it’s more longer than thicker.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

i mean..... he’s a teenage boy. i think it’s average like i don’t think he’s dying to have sex every second but he does in-fact like to appreciate you in more ways that one. because sex for him isn’t just a way to get rid of a hard on it’s a way to appreciate your body and just you in general.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

i feel like it depends on how hard the both of you went, because you guys could either end up talking for hours or simply just cuddle and fall asleep.

“‘m so tired, georgie.” you murmured into the boys bare chest, stroking the side of his torso as the both of you laid below his his fitted sheet bed. the time around twelve am and your eyes desperate for sleep.

“sleep, darling. i’ll be here in the morning to wake you up.” he uttered. his voice fairly hoarse and rough, whilst stroking your back feeling the wrinkle in the shirt he had given you. fairly prideful that you had been wearing something of his.

“love you, georgie” you wiped your nose while speaking, feeling love and adorned by the boy you were cuddling with; wanting these solemn peaceful moments forever.

“love you more, forever ‘n ever.”

taglist: @ronbrokemyheart @georgeswh0re @amourtentiaa @famdomhideout @hufflepogue

#george weasley x ravenclaw!reader #george weasley x slytherin!reader #george weasley x gryffindor!reader #george weasley x hufflepuff!reader #george weasley x malfoy!reader #george weasley x muggle!reader #george weasley x you #george weasley x y/n #george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasly #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley fic #george weasley fluff #george weasley one shot #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter smut #harry potter

663 notes · View notes

nextdoor-neighbors · 3 years

Text

It’s Always Been You

Request: @divergirl99

Hey could I get a Fred x reader where maybe the reader is ginny or Rons best friend since they were young and the weasleys are all protective of here especially the twins and maybe they find her upset cause he boyfriend cheated and Fred gets angry and ends up getting in a fight with the ex and then confesses?

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: Mentions of cheating, violence (punching), blood

You walk down the corridors of school, on the search for your boyfriend, Adrian Pucey. You have a free period - your last period of the day before dinner - and you know he does, too, which usually you spend together, but today, you can’t find him.

“Ron,” you call when you see your best friend, who’s walking with Harry. He looks up at the sound of your voice and smiles, turning to say something to Harry before making his way over to you.

“Hey, Y/N. What’s going on?”

“Have you seen Adrian? I can’t find him anywhere.”

Ron frowns. He’s never been a fan of Adrian, with him being a Slytherin and all, but considering Adrian has always treated you well, Ron has kept his mouth shut over the last few months that you’ve been in your relationship.

“No, I haven’t,” Ron says, “but I’ll let him know you’re looking for him if I do.”

You smile and thank him before continuing your search. You turn down a hall of empty classrooms, not sure why he would be down here, but you decide to look anyway. You peer into the classrooms, stopping abruptly when you stop two figures in one of them, locked in what appears to be a passionate snog session. You blush at catching them, averting your eyes, but quickly do a double-take when you think that you recognize one of the figures.

You know that messy black hair and Quidditch jumper all too well.

You shove open the door to the classroom, and the two jump apart in shock at the noise. You make eye contact with Adrian, your heart dropping to your stomach, and immediately turn to leave, tears already burning at the backs of your eyes.

“No, no, Y/N, I promise, it wasn’t what it looked like, I-” he calls after you, but you keep walking away, past the few other students in the halls with your head down and tears blurring your vision. You don’t know how to feel; you’re devastated, because you didn’t think he would ever do something like this to you, but you’re also shaking from your rage, and as much as you want to scream at him, you don’t think you can do so without sobbing. So, you opt for the silent treatment.

Eventually Adrian gives up calling after you, so, you hide out in the prefects’ bathroom for the rest of the period. You don’t want to show your face at dinner, in case he tries to talk to you, but the grumble of your stomach in the silent bathroom says otherwise.

You push yourself up off the cold tile floor, wiping your tears away as you gaze at yourself in the mirror. Your eyes are red and your skin blotchy from crying your eyes out for the entire period, so you splash some water on your face until you think it’s slightly less noticeable. At least, you hope it is.

You venture out into the halls, already dreading whatever you’re about to face. Your heart aches. You really thought he was a good guy, but of course, you were wrong. Per usual. You always had dated the wrong guys, who all ended up breaking your heart in one way or another. You thought Adrian would be different, and you’re beyond mad at yourself for ever thinking he would be.

You don’t think you’ll ever find a good guy. I mean, there is someone you’ve always wanted, someone who you think would treat you well, but he’d never want you. Why would he?

You avoid eye contact with anyone as you make your way into the Great Hall, finding your normal spot between Ron and Ginny. You had hoped they wouldn’t ask questions, or that you could play off your heartbreak well enough that they wouldn’t notice, but then again, you’ve been friends with the Weasley family since forever. They’re all very protective of you, especially the twins, who are two years older than you. Of course someone is bound to notice.

Sure enough, before you even fully sit down, George - who’s sitting across from you - says, “What’s wrong, Y/N?”

You look up at him, forcing a very weak smile and shaking your head.

“Nothing,” you say quietly.

“That’s bullshit,” Fred adds, his eyebrows furrowing in his concern, “You can tell us.”

You look at Fred, and just as you’re about to admit what happened, Adrian comes up behind him. You look up at him, and Fred must notice the change in your expression as your stomach twists, because he spins around in his seat.

“Y/N, can I talk to you?” Adrian asks. You fight the urge to start crying again as you make eye contact with him, instead, mustering up all of your courage.

“No,” you say, “Adrian, we’re done.”

You don’t even have to look at Ron, Ginny, the twins, or any of the other people listening to know how shocked they probably appear. You watch as Adrian’s face drops, but he doesn’t budge.

“Please, Y/N,” he practically begs.

“Do you not understand what no means, Pucey?” Fred replies before you can, getting up out of his seat and standing up, towering over Adrian.

Adrian’s face immediately twists into a scowl as he looks up at Fred. You can’t find the words to tell Adrian to go away or Fred that it’s okay, you can handle it, as you watch the boys with wide eyes, fearing what’s about to happen next.

“Stay out of it, Weasley,” Adrian snaps, before turning back to you, pleading again, “Y/N, you don’t understand. It was a mistake, and if you’d just let me explain-”

Fred keeps his eyes trained on Adrian, as if daring him to speak to you one more time. You find your words, as the entirety of the Great Hall is listening in on your conversation:

“I think I understand perfectly, Adrian, because there’s not much to explain about why I found you kissing another girl.”

“You did what?” Fred shouts, and you watch as he pushes Adrian with his hands flat on his chest. Adrian falls back, his face contorting in rage. At this point, the other house tables have erupted into noise, students standing up and trying to get a good look at the fight.

Adrian pushes himself up, rushing towards Fred, as Fred yells something about how he just lost the greatest thing that ever happened to him and how he’s going to pay for hurting you.

Adrian’s fist connects with Fred’s jaw, knocking Fred’s head back, but Fred reacts instantly, socking Adrian straight in the nose. The blood starts flowing from Adrian’s nose immediately, and you yell at them to stop, but neither boy listens to you as more punches are thrown.

Thankfully, a few teachers have made their way over, and with a swish of her wand, McGonagall separates the two boys. You stand there, your heart pounding like crazy in your chest, looking between Fred and Adrian, who stand a few feet apart, giving each other the death glare. Adrian wipes his sleeve across his nose, smearing his blood all over the fabric. You’re sure that he’s going to have a black eye tomorrow, as well. Fred, on the other hand, looks better off, with seemingly only a puffy, split lip.

You’re at a loss for words as you watch Fred and Adrian be escorted out of the Great Hall by Snape, McGonagall, and Dumbledore. Fred looks over as he walks away, and you make eye contact with him for a split second. In that second, he looks you up and down before turning away. Your stomach flips at that, but in a good way.

You don’t know what to say to him later. Do you thank him? You know that Adrian will never bother you again, thanks to this, but you also know that the whole school is going to be talking about this: about Adrian cheating on you, and about Fred’s reaction.

Your heart feels like it’s being squeezed inside your chest as you think about that. Why did Fred react like that? I mean, you know he’s protective of you, but so are George, Ginny, and Ron, and they didn’t jump Adrian like that...

No, you shouldn’t get your hopes up. After all, you need time to recover from today, so you shouldn’t be trying to jump into anything else quite yet, either. But then again, it’s Fred. Your longtime crush, but also your best friend’s older brother. The one guy that you’ve wanted that you always thought was unattainable. He couldn’t possibly see you as anything more, could he?

You excuse yourself from dinner quietly, whispering to Ron that you’ll talk to him later. You’re hoping to find Fred whenever he’s done getting in trouble, but also, hoping to avoid Adrian. He’s the last person you want to see right now.

You hover around the area of Dumbledore’s office, and after several minutes, you hear footsteps. You peer around the corner to see Adrian, walking away from you, thankfully, towards the hospital wing, and Fred, headed towards you.

“Hey,” he says, quietly, offering you a small smile as well as he can, considering his lip is still busted.

“Hi,” you reply, still not sure what to say. You’re really not sure how to process anything that just happened, but you’re going to at least hopefully get Fred’s thoughts on everything.

“Hopefully that asshole learned his lesson,” Fred says bitterly as the two of you walk side by side down the empty corridor, “If he ever bothers you again, you let me know, okay? I’ll take care of him for you.”

“But why?” you ask, stopping in your tracks. Fred stops too, just looking at you, as if nonverbally asking you to elaborate. “Why do you care so much?”

Fred’s eyebrows furrow slightly, but he hesitates before speaking.

“You’re Ron’s best friend. Obviously I’d stand up for you, especially against a prick like Pucey. But...” he trails off, looking over you again. You stay silent, waiting for him to continue.

He looks up to meet your eyes, and this time, angry Fred is gone, and in his place is hesitant, vulnerable Fred. Something that you don’t see often.

“I like you, Y/N. A lot,” he says, and your heart somersaults.

“I know this probably isn’t the best time to tell you,” he continues, “considering everything that just happened, but, I just... it’s always been you, and it pisses me off to see you fall for these guys who treat you like shit instead of like a princess, which is what you deserve.”

For definitely not the first time today, you can’t find the words to reply, but this time, it’s for a good reason. For a moment, you forget about Adrian, about your heartbreak and about the fight, and you cross the small gap between you and Fred, pushing yourself up on your tiptoes to kiss him.

He tastes like the blood from his lip, but when you pull away, you smile, and he smiles back, almost in relief.

“Let’s get that lip of yours fixed up,” you say, “and we can talk more.”

“Absolutely,” Fred replies, reaching for your hand as the two of you start down the hall again. “I’m never going to let any guy hurt you again, Y/N. And I definitely won’t ever hurt you. You can trust me on that.”

And you truly believe him.

#fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x you #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley one shot #george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley fanfiction #fred and george #weasley twins #weasley twins x reader

422 notes · View notes

poisonousquinzel · 3 years

Note

https://lady-ha-ha.tumblr.com/post/160715688748/is-that-comic-before-the-reboot-and-which-one-is

(I have not read this comic) Is this true? (if so, ivy deserves someone better).

Post

Kay, first off both of those people are Jarley shippers so take everything they say with a grain of salt and then some, cause no. that part isn't about how much Harley loves Joker and will always choose him over Ivy. Literally you can tell ops don't know what they're talking about cause her whole thing in those issues is going to kill him for years of graphic abuse but ultimately falls back with him once she’s face to face with him.

Like wow, congrats on missing the fucking point again but not surprised from people who ship her with The Fucking Joker.

also, ffs, can anyone please have basic comprehension skills and realize that Harley and Ivy are both fucked up sometimes because they’ve got issues and that’s not comparable to Joker’s long ass history of graphic and disgusting abuse.

Harley and Ivy are villains, they're not a wholesome cookie cutter, White Picket Fence, super vanilla ship with no bad moments. They're both bad guys with a fuck ton of trauma that they both have to work through, and have done so at this point.

Gotham City Sirens was published between 2009 - 2011, Harley and Ivy weren't blatantly romantic at this point nor had they had anywhere near the development that they’ve had at this point.

Like don’t go into Harlivy content expecting them to be the perfect wlw rep with no flaws during their arcs from BTAS to current time cause that’s just not realistic. They’re both deeply flawed people who’ve got a fuck ton of trauma that they need to (and have) worked through.

I have talked about the BTAS issues here and this post is good at explaining them too.

Harlivy is not and has never been a purely wholesome, goody-goody ship. They’re messy, they have issues, and they have bad moments sometimes, but they both worked through their seperate trauma and came out stronger and better because at the end of the day, they care about each other.

Harlivy has messy, toxic moments sometimes, but they’re not, and have never been, abusive. There’s a difference between unhealthy moments and a ship being abusive.

That’s completely different to how Joker acts Constantly, because he does not care that his actions towards Harley are abusive, because he doesn’t give a shit about her.

He enjoys hurting her. He enjoys ruining her.

Jarley has always been intended to be written and shown as a domestically abusive relationship.

This is also the first instance where it's directly referenced that there's something more than platonic between her and Ivy, other than the reference in Batgirl Adventures.

Gotham City Sirens is also not connected to any verses.

This didn’t happen in the timeline we’re in rn with Harley Quinn (2014)/(2016)/(2021).

Comic timelines and shit are stupid and make everything more confusing and awful and I hate it sdfjdksksdkjsd

this is gonna be a long post since ops wanna just cut and paste random bits of the issues like jarley stans always do (cause jarley never has good moments that aren’t entirely surrounded by him abusing her) I’m going to show them in full context. *added a keep reading cause it is a lot

(All panels shown are from #15, #18, #19, #20, #21, #23, #24, #25)

So, Harley's entire thing at this point in the GCS comic in that she's been triggered by flashbacks of Joker's abuse and she breaks into Arkham with the intent to kill him.

The entire thing in these issues is showing her smarts and how she knows people's trump cards to get under their skin so she can break into Arkham.

She’s trained to identify these things in people and she's fucking good at pushing people's buttons.

this is also just one of my fav Harley covers so I wanted to show it jsdjksdks

“Trump cards. Everyone has one. Places where the armor we build around ourselves is weakest.”

She’s right. And it’s now shown that Harley’s willing to use those below the belt trump cards if she has to.

And frankly, I’d say this is worse than what she says to Ivy. And I’m not surprised she did it. She didn’t want to, she tried to get him to just open the door -

“Don’t make me do this, Aaron. There are some secrets that should stay hidden. Things you should never learn about your own life.”

but she’s also entirely fueled by rage and the desire to kill Joker. She came here for a reason and she’s not leaving until she’s done it.

“I’m going to kill you. For everything you’ve done to me. All the times you’ve made me feel useless and small. For all the times I will never forget. For all the things I can never forgive. All the memories -”

“Hello, Harley. I’ve missed you.”

“Memories. That’s all I have left. The past is gone and all I have is... memories.

Memories.

Memory.

Gone.

I guess I too have a trump card.”

“Oh, Ivy. You know exactly what my answer is going to be. But you’re hoping you’re wrong, aren’t you?”

She’s also right about this, they already mentioned this in #18.

“How did I become the bad guy?”

“You’re the one choosing a man over her girls.”

“Are you kidding me? You would never say that to Harley, and we both know she’d dumb us in a flat second if Joker called her.”

“Hey! That’s not fair-- Actually, that’s probably true.”

“The difference is, she can’t help it. You can. And she’s working on it. You’re not working on it.”

“Too easy, Ivy. Too easy. I know your weak spots. Now I just need to push.”

This is exactly what she’s been doing since the starting point of this post. She’s still in that mindset and she knows she can’t beat her on a regular battle field. Neither of them can.

“Like I said-- You beat me in any level playing field. But I don’t fight on those fields.”

Harley’s biggest strength as a villain is her ability to completely mentally stall her opponents and learn their weak spots. She wouldn’t win against the majority of the Big Bads if she didn’t fight on a different field than they are.

so, like yeah, out of context what she says to Ivy seems awful and completely screwed up, and it is, but it’s also built up really well and it’s completely in character for her at this point in her fall during these issues.

Is what she did fucked? absolutely. It’s not painted that it’s not.

Ivy Literally Goes To Kill Her For It.

In the end of this all three of them are recaptured by Catwoman and Batman and that’s where we’re starting off at again.

“Oh, Harley.

The only human I’ve ever called a friend.

To what lengths will I go? Where are my own limits? She is the Strangler fig. And I am the tree, choking underneath.

Without me, she could never grow.

But without her, I would fall if I grew too tall.”

“Will she ever stand by herself?

Will she ever be ready?

She is in throes of madness. She sees him, her brain flooding with adrenaline, it makes her excited, nervous, then the feelings start to fade, and she needs more. And more.

She sees it as passion. She sees it as love.

But it’s not. It’s addiction. And she’s relapsing.”

Ivy is well aware of the nature of their relationship. She’s not stupid and she’s been shown already to know that it’s something that takes time. It’s not a one off break up and it’s over. That’s not how abusve relationships work.

What do I do?

I could use my pheromones to alter her brain chemistry.

I could leave her behind abandoning her to the wilds of her own mind.

I could kill her right now.

Show her how red Nature can be.

There's one other option.

It would require patience.

Even love.

Maybe I'm more human than I want to admit.

"You have one chance to answer this."

I know, if she agrees, she'll be doing it for revenge. For him.

"She put us behind bars."

But maybe if I get away from this place, if I give her something else to think about. Maybe she can break the cycle. But it has to be her choice.

"I'm going to kill her. Come with me."

So yeah, it’s definitely not a just “Harley hurts her and runs off with Joker and it’s just a plain ol’ her choosing him over everyone and that’s that.”

Jarley shippers love to just reduce all her scenes and arcs down to their “epic love” and shit, but that’s taking away literally everything about her and reducing it down to the 3 panels that they’re “cute” in. Her arc in this part is fucking heartbreaking to read.

And Ivy damn well knows what’s going on with her. She’s smart and she’s the one that’s been there throughout all of this. She found her in the park after he shot her out of a rocket.

And she knows it’ll take time for Harley to get over and through his manipulation, that’s just how it works with abusive relationships.

But she’s also not forgiving at first, she’s mad and rightfully so, until she sees the sate of Harley’s cell and realizes how bad her addiction is at that time.

A lot of the unhealthy moments on Harley’s side when it comes to them are directly caused from the effects of being in an abusive relationship with Joker. Because she’s always in this area of her journey in those moments. She’s never fully over him or emancipated.

And that’s realistic. It’s hard sometimes to be friends with someone who’s in abusive relationships like theirs, having to watch them return to that person time and time again and it’s frustrating after a while.

I know from personal experience, it’s really hard to watch someone you care about go back or forgive someone that continues to hurt them.

But abuse victims desperately need a support system outside of their abuser. It’s a crucial part of being able to escape, because when they do try to get out they need someone there or they’ll literally have no where to go but back into their abuser’s arms.

It’s heartbreaking and it’s really rough for everyone effected, but that’s just how it is most of the time. Especially in their case, as they’re not just regular folk dealing with this.

If she doesn’t have Ivy, Harley has no one else to go to but Joker, on more than just an emotional level.

She’s lost her job. Her income. Her home. Her livelihood. Her everything.

Most of the time she has no other choice but to return to a life of crime after she’s released from Arkham because she can’t get a job, she’s a notorious criminal and she’s got a lot of issues that don’t just disappear with a bit of therapy.

She has no other choice but to return to Joker because the other alternative is the streets. At least she knows what to expect with him.

And that’s not even getting into the manipulation, gaslighting and degrading abuse that he drills into her constantly.

He’s made her believe she’s not anything without him. That she’s not smart or useful or anything.

And that’s why it’s so damn important for her to have a support system and why he’s so damn against Ivy.

Because Ivy is the good voice on her shoulder telling her he’s wrong and that she doesn’t deserve that.

And on Ivy’s side, she’s aware she gets very near cutting off all parts of her humanity.

She’s a plant goddess, she’s insanely powerful and she feels everything through the green. Frankly, she’s not even on the same playing field as these villains. She’s significanty more powerful than Harley and Joker.

Her connection to Harley is what keeps her humanity in tack, because despite everything, she does care about her. She was the first person she let in, the first person Ivy called a friend.

The person that was able to get through to her in #14/#15 when she was losing herself. The one that was able to get through to her that the dude was manipulating her.

“Ivy, I know you think you love this guy... but you’re just gonna end up strapped to his rocket!”

She had to knock her out for the dude to trust her / not attack them anymore. But Harley got through to her by mentioning how they first met in the park when she saved her after Joker shot her off in a rocket.

And Ivy is understandable turned off towards humans considering her origin and trauma around that.

She’s got a lot of trust issues.

But both of them work through their seperate traumas over the years because their affection for each other is stronger than the issues their trauma has given them.

and also, sometimes, they just have shit writers. that’s an issue overall in comic fandoms. Some writers just fucking suck at getting any of the characters right, let alone LGBT characters, who’re notoriously treated like garbage by DC.

#sorry if it came off a bit aggressive anon i don't mind ya asking <3 #ops just annoy me SDJSKSK #tw abuse #tw clown boy #long post #♦️ asks ♦️#harley quinn #harleen quinzel #poison ivy #pamela isley #harlivy #gotham city sirens #me? rambling in detail about Harley? yup yup

63 notes · View notes

5-seconds-of-bucky · 3 years

Text

Secret

A/N: Hello, hello! Not much to say about this one other than Allison made me do it (2021 is amazing but angsty and I needed some serious fluff so I wrote it myself smh) Anyways, enjoy :)

Summery: AU in which once you meet your soulmate, you can hear them talking to themselves. You’re Shawn’s personal assistant and soulmate but you have to keep your relationship a secret, until one day . . .

Word count: 6.5k+

Warnings: Swearing, and little angst towards the end (but only a little)

---

This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen.

Nobody knew. Nobody. Not your parents, not Andrew, not even Brian knew. You never told anyone about it. But now the whole world knew about your relationship.

The whole world knew and you sure as hell were going to lose your job.

---

You wouldn’t say you knew you were soulmates right away, but it didn’t take long to figure it out. Well, it didn’t take long for Shawn to figure it out and tell you. In fact, it only took him about six hours after meeting you to realize you were the one destined for him.

He knew the moment he met you that there was something about you that was just different. Not different like “I’m not like other girls” different. Different as in someone that gave him a feeling he’d never had before.

“Shawn, this is Y/N Y/L/N, your new personal assistant. Y/N, this is Shawn.” You smiled nervously as Andrew introduced you to your new boss, giving him a small wave before realizing how unprofessional it looked.

You stuck your hand out for a handshake. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Mendes.”

“Oh, please,” he chuckled as he shook your hand. “Call me Shawn. Mr. Mendes is way too formal.”

You let out a small laugh as well, dropping his hand. There was an awkward pause that made you worry you’d already made the wrong impression. Too weak of a handshake? A wavering voice? What made this go downhill so fast?

“If you’ll excuse me, I need to use the restroom.” You nodded at the two men before heading over to the bathroom in the hotel lobby.

“She seemed nervous,” Shawn mentioned once you were out of earshot.

“I think she’s going to be a good fit. She’s a year younger than you and her application was great. Give her a chance. She was meeting the Shawn Mendes, her boss, after all.

Get it together, Y/N.

The words muttered in his head were in her voice, not his own. He frowned, sure that his mind was simply playing tricks on him.

Meanwhile, you were in the bathroom, cursing yourself for already making the wrong impression.

“You said ten words to the man and he probably already thinks you’re a moron,” you muttered as you paced in front of the sinks. “Take a deep breath and get back out there.”

“You okay?” Andrew asked, referring to the distant look that had overtaken Shawn’s face.

“Hmm? . . . Oh, yeah. Zoned out for a second.” Am I hearing my soulmate’s voice?

“Play nice with Y/N. I really think you’re going to like her.”

You exited the bathroom and put a pleasant look on your face as you approached the group. That was your job now: look and make everyone happy.

“Y/N, I’ll show you to your room so you can get settled,” Andrew said, gesturing for you to lead the way towards the elevator.

“Wait, Y/N.” Shawn reached out to gently grab your shoulder. “Do you wanna meet up before dinner for a smoothie or something? You know, to get to know each other?” His soft smile was something you couldn’t say no to, even if you’d only known him for three minutes.

Thirty minutes later, Shawn was knocking on your hotel door and taking you out for a smoothie shop across the street.

“What do you think you’re gonna get?” he asked once you were standing in line, taking his wallet out of his pocket.

“Trying to decide between strawberry-banana and berry blast.”

“This is the best smoothie shop around and you want strawberry-banana?”

“Or berry blast.” You’d just met him but the banter came easily. “Besides, if they’re that good at making smoothies, then the strawberry-banana will knock me off my feet with how good it is.”

“I don’t know if I can work with such a basic person as an assistant.” He playfully nudged you a step away from him.

“Oh, is this a test? Because you haven’t even seen me actually work yet.” You stepped in front of him, deciding on strawberry-banana.

“Yeah, but I could fire you for any reason at any time so really-”

“You’re not gonna fire me.” You turned around and gave him a smirk.

“But I could.” He stepped unreasonably close just as you stepped up to order. You pushed his face back with the back of your hand. He’s acting awfully friendly.

“I’ll take a strawberry-banana smoothie please,” you smiled at the cashier, pulling out some money.

“And I’ll get blueberry and avocado smoothie,” Shawn said as he pushed down your hand with the money and held out his card to the cashier. You glared at him playfully and lightly elbowed him in the stomach. “What? It’s good for your skin.”

“You guys are cute,” the cashier giggled after announcing the total and swiping Shawn’s card.

“Oh, we barely know each other.” Your words were a lost cause as Shawn dragged you aside so the next person could order.

“Shh, she doesn’t know that. Make her think there’s a world where a person with a basic smoothie order and a person with a good smoothie order can be soulmates.”

“I haven’t overheard you talking to yourself yet so I don’t think that’s possible.”

“But imagine.” He led you over to a table and plopped down on a seat. You turned around to hang your purse over the back of the chair as you sat down.

“Wait, how much do I owe you?” You pulled the purse back over the chair and dug through it to find the money you haphazardly stuck in there just a minute before.

“Nothing. It’s on me,” he said, like it was the obvious answer.

“But I feel bad making you pay for it.”

“You’re not making me pay for it, I wanted to. Consider it a ‘welcome to the team’ present.”

“That’s very kind of you.”

He liked how nervous he was making you. Whether it was because he was your boss or because he was devilishly handsome, he wasn’t entirely sure. But, he did know that you made him a little nervous too, especially since he was 95 percent sure you were his soulmate.

---

“You know what?” you said to yourself in your hotel room that night. “This is going to be really good for me. A fresh start and a chance to see the world. It doesn’t get much better than that.”

Shawn was distracted from his own thoughts once he heard your voice in his head. Shawn Mendes is my fucking boss. Not only that, but he’s an awesome dude. He smiled, not entirely sure he should be listening into this conversation. To be fair though, he couldn’t help it. Your voice was in his head.

“Damn,” he said as he put on a clean shirt for the night. “That girl was real cute.” He heard something fall in the other room followed by absolute silence, leading him to believe that you heard him. “She had a basic-ass smoothie order though.”

Was that my soulmate? He couldn’t help but laugh, trying to stay quiet as he figured out how to surprise you. Who did I meet today? You started to list the numerous people you met at dinner that night as Shawn shuffled over to the door that connected your hotel rooms.

“Hey, soulmate,” he quipped as he swung the door open. You let out a yelp, arms holding a shirt over your chest as you fell back onto the bed. “Oh, sorry!”

You threw the shirt over your head and glanced at the mirror on the wall to make sure you looked presentable. “You can come back in now,” you said once you were decent. Shawn reentered with a hand over his eyes, softly closing the door behind him. “You can look,” you giggled. “I have a shirt on now.”

Shawn put his hand down and smiled sheepishly at you. You wanted to swoon at how cute he looked with his rosy cheeks and messy curls.

“Hi.” He leaned against the wall, watching your feet get closer and closer to him until your sock clad toes were almost touching his.

“Hey.” He slowly looked up to meet your gaze. You gave him a shy smile and wave, to which he could only smile back. He’s been dreaming of the moment he met his soulmate for all these years yet he found himself at a loss of words.

“So . . . how much of that did you hear?”

“Oh, I heard the whole shabang. I’m glad you think so highly of me.” You groaned and leaned into his chest.

“You weren’t supposed to hear any of that.”

“That’s part of the whole soulmate thing. Can’t help it.”

“We’re actually soulmates?” You lifted your head so your chin was resting on his chest.

“Yeah,” He wrapped his arms around you. “I think we are.”

You brought your hands up so they were resting on his shoulders. “That moment would be a lot more romantic if I wasn’t staring up your nose.”

Shawn threw his head back, body shaking with laughter. You buried your face into his chest as you laughed along with him.

There was a comfortable pause before either of you dared to break the moment. “I’d day we should stay up all night and talk about our deepest fears and hopes for the future but we both look dead tired so we should probably call it a night.”

“Probably should. Night, Shawn.”

“Night, Y/N.” He squeezed you for a second longer before opening the door and stepping back into his room, sending you a wink before he shut it all the way.

“Shawn Mendes is my soulmate,” you whispered to yourself. “Shawn Mendes is my fucking soulmate!”

“Uh huh,” Shawn chuckled from the other room. “We’re definitely soulmates.”

---

It was a year of bliss full of sneaking kisses behind closed doors and holding hands under tables. You agreed at the start to keep your relationship a secret. With you settling into the new job and the two of you wanting to explore the relationship, it was best to keep everything under wraps. Hard as you tried, people had their suspicions for one reason or another.

It started with Andrew about a month after you realized you were soulmates. Shawn knew he could trust Andrew but he also knew that Andrew could be kind of harsh when it came to professionalism. The man didn’t expect the two of you to refer to each other strictly by last name, but he did expect that you abide by the rules and not cross the line between platonic and romantic.

So Shawn thought it would be best to find out what would happen if you were to announce that you were together. You know, in a hypothetical situation.

“Andrew, Shawn is looking for you,” you said as you peeked your head around the doorway of the green room. “He’s in his dressing room.”

Andrew’s head perked up at the calling of his name and nodded, standing up and following you to Shawn’s dressing room. You let him go in by himself, telling him that you had some other things to attend to. Once he shut the door though, you put your ear to it in hopes that you would be able to overhear what he had to say about Shawn’s “hypothetical” situation.

“Y/N said you needed me?” Andrew said once the door was closed.

“Yeah, I just had a quick question.” Shawn picked at the skin on the side of his thumb. “I just thought of this random situation and I was wondering what would happen if it actually happened.”

Andrew nodded for him to go on, still confused as to why Shawn made him come all the way down there for this.

“So say, my assistant was my soulmate. What would happen? Would they be able to keep their job or . . .?” He could see the gears turning in Andrew’s head at the mention of a soulmate and he wasn’t quite sure how he was going to answer.

“Is this about Y/N?”

“No, no. Just in some alternate universe. What would happen?”

“It depends. You obviously have a soulmate, we can’t stop that from happening, but I’d rather it not be someone you worked with,” Andrew started. “When I hire any team member, no matter what their job is, they agree that there is to be no romantic involvement with you. It keeps things professional and could prevent things from going haywire with the media. Things never look good when a star gets involved with someone on their team. I just don’t want to deal with all the bad publicity that could come out of that kind of situation. I don’t know if I would fire them but it would likely be on the table.” He leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms. “But that’s not happening with you and Y/N, right?”

Your face dropped. You were expecting that sort of answer, but it still hurt to hear.

“What? Pfft, of course not. I was just curious,” Shawn replied, walking over to the door and pushing it open. You stumbled back, suddenly realizing that you were supposed to be attending “other things.”

“That was all. Thanks, Andrew.” Andrew gave Shawn a look that said he knew something was up, but Shawn laughed it off.

Okay?” He stepped out into the hallway, bumping into you. “Oops, sorry, Y/N.”

“Haha, no problem,” you waved him off. “Shawn, they need you on stage for soundcheck.”

“Soundcheck doesn’t start for another half hour,” Andrew said.

“They wanted to start early. Something about having trouble with stuff in the past so they wanted to get a head start.”

Shawn shot you a discrete thumbs up, eyes silently thanking you for the save.

“Okay then? I’ll let you do what you need to do.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in once he turned around and started making his way back down the hallway.

“Do they actually need me?”

“No, but I needed to look like I wasn’t eavesdropping.”

Shawn looked down the hallway to make sure no one was there before pulling you into a hug behind the open door and pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I love you.”

“Love you too, big guy. Can we go to stage so it doesn’t look like I was lying?” You pulled away and took hold of his hand, tugging him in the direction of the stage.

Shawn rolled his eyes. “The things I do for you.”

“Thank youuu.” He followed you down the long hallway, checking every so often to make sure no one was behind you.

“Nice shoes,” he smirked, glancing down at the tie dye Crocs you were wearing.

“My heel broke and I didn’t have another pair of shoes on me.”

“But you had rainbow Crocs?”

“It’s fashion and comfort all in one shoe. You expect me to carry another pair of heels around when I could be wearing these bad boys?”

“I mean, they go wonderfully with the blouse and slacks. I kinda want a pair now.”

“Guess I know what to get you for Christmas.”

The sound of footsteps coming towards you stopped your conversation. You ripped your hand out of Shawn’s and he found himself missing the warmth of it.

“Hey, just talked to stage crew,” Andrew said once he popped around the corner you were just about to turn. “They’re not starting yet. They’re actually on track to be starting late. Don’t know who told you they needed him.”

“That’s weird,” you said, attempting to subtly put some more space between Shawn and yourself. “Guess we have some time. You guys need me to get anything for you?” The men both shook their heads no.

“Nice shoes, by the way.” He was gone as quickly as he appeared.

You looked over to see Shawn doubled over, body shaking with laughter. “Shut up, he almost caught us.”

“Yeah, but he saw the shoes!”

“How did the universe put us together?”

“Oh stop.” He wrapped you in his arms once again. “You know you love me.”

---

Brian was the next to get curious about your relationship.

A knock on the door that connected you and Shawn’s hotel room made Shawn look up from his phone for the first time in a while. He was met with your sheepish smile and what he now affectionately called the “Y/N wants something wave.”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “What do you want?”

“Can I borrow one of your shirts? All of mine are dirty.”

“You have like 1,000 shirts.”

“Well 995 of them are dressy shirts for my job and I’m out of comfy shirts to sleep in. Would you be willing to sacrifice one of yours so I may bask in its comfort?”

“I guess so,” he sighed, leaning over the side of his bed to grab a shirt.

“Thank you.” You smiled wider as he came towards you and threw the shirt over your face. “Ooh, it smells like you.”

“That could be because I wear it a lot.”

“Is it your favorite shirt?”

“Maybe.”

“Ooh, I feel special.”

“Go put a shirt on, weirdo.”

You disappeared behind the door for a second and slipped the shirt on. You stepped back into Shawn’s room without a second thought and suddenly, Shawn couldn’t take his eyes off of you.

The silence and his stare made you feel self conscious for a moment. Does he not want me to wear it?

“I actually have a clean shirt if you don’t want me to wear-”

“No, keep it on. It looks good on you.” Two months into your secret relationship and he was head over heels in love with you.

“Thanks . . .” Completely uncharted territory. Neither of you had any idea what to do from here.

“Do you wanna, uh, sleep here tonight?” He scratched the back of his neck.

“Yeah . . . I’d like that.”

He held his arm out for you to enter and closed the door behind you.

“I, uh, need to use the bathroom real quick.”

You stepped into the bathroom and braced yourself on the counter. “It’s no big deal, Y/N. He’s your soulmate. No need to get nervous.”

Shawn melted as the words played in his head. Now go out there and be the best damn soulmate there is.

You emerged from the bathroom like nothing happened, leaning on the doorway with your arms crossed. “Sup?”

“You didn’t flush the toilet.”

“Oh please, we both know I wasn’t actually going to the bathroom.”

Shawn held his hands up in defense, extending them out as you shuffled over to the bed and flopped down on it.

“I’m going to steal this shirt, by the way,” you said matter of factly.

“You should. It looks good on you.” He tugged you onto his chest so your head was laying over his heart.

“You’re gonna let me steal your favorite shirt, just like that?” You flipped over so your chin was resting on his shoulder. He nodded. “Damn, that was easy. You really do love me.”

You spent the next hour and a half talking about the random thoughts that crossed your mind. Minute by minute, your eyes got droopier and droopier, until you were fast asleep on top of Shawn. It was everything he wanted in life, right there in his arms.

He was almost asleep himself when there was a sharp knock on the door. He got up, careful not to move you too much and wake you up before opening the door.

“Hey, can I borrow some toothpaste?” a tired looking Brian asked, a yawn escaping his mouth in the fluorescent hotel hallway.

“Uh, yeah.” Shawn let Brian step inside, completely forgetting in his sleepy state that you were laying on the bed. He came out of the bathroom a second later to hand the toothpaste to Brian, who seemed completely shocked out of the daze he was in earlier. “What?”

“Is that Y/N?”

“Oh, yeah, she had a rough day so she came over here to vent. Ended up falling asleep before she went back to her own room.” He was getting better at coming up with these coverups.

“Really? She seemed like she was having a great day when I saw her earlier. I think the tie dye Crocs put her in a good mood.”

“I don’t know,” Shawn shrugged. “Maybe something went wrong after you saw her?”

“Maybe,” Brian nodded slowly, already putting the pieces together. “She’s not your soulmate, is she?”

“No, of course not. Just good friends.” The response came quick. Almost too quick.

“Okay, sure.” Brian took the toothpaste from Shawn with a skeptical look. “Thanks. I’ll give it back tomorrow morning.”

Shawn gave him a thumbs up and closed the door. He looked back to your sleeping form and couldn’t help but grin. He loved everything about you. How bad would it actually be if someone found out about you?

---

“Wanna ditch and get milkshakes?” You were standing in the corner of some celebrity’s mansion when Shawn asked the question. The Grammys afterparty wasn’t all that appealing to you, but it was part of the job and Shawn wanted you to go as his plus one since you were, as he claimed, his “best friend in the whole entire universe.”

“Hell yeah.” You pushed yourself off the wall, brushing off the back of your dress. “Where’re we going?”

“I dunno. What’s open this late?” He reached out to grab your hand, which you almost took before realizing where you were. His face dropped the slightest bit, wanting nothing more than to hold your hand and let the whole world know that he’d found his soulmate.

“I’m sure there’s something close by.” You nodded for him to follow you. “Wait, I have to ‘convince’ you to stay so I can say I tried to keep you here and Andrew doesn’t get mad at me.”

Shawn crossed his arms and nodded. “Can we ditch and get milkshakes?”

“No, we have to stay so you don’t seem rude.”

“But this party's boring and we could have a lot more fun somewhere else.”

“Shawn.”

“I could fire you . . .”

“Nice,” you said, grabbing his wrist and making your way through the crowd.

The cool air of the night was a relief from how hot it was inside but you found yourself pressing yourself into Shawn’s side anyways. He threw his arm over your shoulder as the two of you made your way to the edge of the driveway. The noise from the party faded into the background and neither of you said anything, enjoying one of the rare quiet moments you got together.

“Where to, m’lady?”

“You’re the one who wanted to leave.”

“Don’t act like you wanted to be there,” he teased, pulling away to grab your hand and twirl you under his arm.

“Well, I’m indecisive so you have the honors of picking the place.”

“I guess let’s go into the city and go to the first place that’s open.”

“Sounds good to me.” Your smile could light up the streets better than the streetlamps and he never wanted to see it go away.

“Take this, by the way.” Shawn shook his suit jacket off and put it over your shoulders. The red cloth was a little too big but he thought you looked stunning nonetheless.

“I’m not cold though.” You pulled your arms through the sleeves anyways.

“Let me do the boyfriend thing,” he pleaded as he rolled his shirt sleeves up.

“Fine. Only because you look really hot with your shirt sleeves rolled up.”

He smirked, making a mental note for the future.

You walked for a while before you stumbled across a McDonald’s, mumbling a might as well before opening the door for Shawn.

“Hey, I’m supposed to do that.”

“Oh, please. Let me be nice.”

The restaurant was empty, the only other person in there being the cashier who sleepily appeared from the kitchen as you looked at the menu. Shawn stepped up and ordered a milkshake before you stepped up and ordered a shake and fries. You whipped out your card and paid for it before Shawn could, to which he playfully glared at you.

“You pay for stuff all the time. Let me pay seven dollars this one time.”

He huffed, letting you know that you’d won. You smiled triumphantly as you sat down at a table and patted the space across from you. Shawn sat down and propped his elbow on the table to rest his head on his hand.

“Why are you so pretty?” you mumbled as you admired him. Seven billion people in the world and you somehow were lucky enough to have Shawn Mendes as your soulmate. Who would’ve thought?

“Why are you so pretty?” He reached across the table to grab your hand.

“I asked first.” You intertwined your fingers with his.

Your order number was called before he could respond, causing him to let go of your hand and go up to the counter. He grabbed the food and turned around to catch you checking him out. “What’re you looking at?”

“I can’t help it! Do you have any idea how hot it is when you roll the sleeves of a button up all the way up to your elbows?”

He laughed as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Would’ve done this a lot more often if I knew how much you liked it,” he said as he popped a fry into his mouth.

“Well, it’s super hot so please do it more often.” You took a sip of your milkshake. “And be more careful. Someone might see us.,” you said, referring to the act of affection he did moments before.

“We’re fine. The poor kid’s so tired they’re falling asleep back there.”

“Still. We’re in public and I really don’t want to lose my job.”

“Andrew won’t fire you. He just wants to scare us,” Shawn insisted, reaching over to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. “Besides, if word does get out we can finally move forward with our lives. Get married? Really start our future together?” It had only been eight months but Shawn knew without a single doubt that he wanted to be with you. (The soulmate part helped a little bit too.)

“You really want to do that?”

“You’re my soulmate and the most amazing person I’ve ever met. Of course I want to get married! That is, as long as you want to.”

“I’d like that.”

The sound of your phone ringing ruined the moment, and you quickly fumbled to get it out of your pocket.

“Andrew, hey,” you said, watching Shawn’s face change from lovey-dovey to concerned and a little scared.

“Where are you guys?” Andrew’s voice came through the phone, slightly drowned out by the loud music playing in the background.

“I . . . uh . . .”

“It sounds really quiet over there. Did you guys sneak back to the hotel?” You cringed at what sounded like a disappointed tone as you tried to come up with an answer that wouldn’t get you fired.

“Shawn wanted milkshakes so we’re at McDonalds,” you finally admitted.

“Dude!” Shawn whisper yelled.

“I tried to make him stay but he was insistent!”

“Can you put Shawn on the phone?”

“Sure,” you said, passing the phone to Shawn.

“Andrew, hi,” Shawn said in a voice that did not at all match the look on his face. You couldn’t hear what Andrew was saying but based on the intermittent “I know” and “yeah” you assumed he was getting lectured about ditching the party.

“We will. See you there.” He hung up with a sigh. “Our romantic time at McDonald’s is going to have to come to an end, my dear.”

“What’d he say?” You took your phone from his hand and stood up.

“Come back to the hotel or you’re gonna get it.” He took his milkshake in one hand and your hand in the other, letting you take the last few fries and throw out the cardboard.

“You’re going to get me fired one of these days.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“It is a bad thing! I like my job, thank you very much.”

“I kid, I kid.”

His smile was all you needed in life. Job or not, you would always have Shawn, right?

---

“Here’s your boarding pass,” you said through a yawn, handing Shawn the slip of paper as you walked into the airport.

The pass you handed him had your name printed on it and he laughed to himself. He took the pass you had in your hand and switched it with the one he gave you.

“What’re you-”

“You gave me your pass.” He placed his hand on your lower back, subtly trying to speed you up so you could catch up to the rest of the group.

“Oh, sorry,” you muttered softly. “I’ve gotten three hours of sleep in the past two days. I’m so ready to get on the plane and take a freaking nap.”

“We gotta get on the plane first, sleepyhead.” You were dressed in leggings, an oversized t-shirt, and your tie dye Crocs. It was one of the few times he ever saw you dressed down on the job and he was loving it.

“Watch your hand, there’s people all around.”

“It’s really hard to take you seriously when you look like you’re about to pass out in my arms.”

“Shawn!”

“I’m helping out my tired best friend. Besides, it’s four in the morning, nobody’s around.” He didn’t move his arm, even as you got closer to the group. It was like he wanted to get caught. “And, if you really wanted me to move, you would’ve shaken my arm off by now.”

He knew you too well.

He kept his arm there as you checked your luggage and went through security, only letting go when absolutely necessary. It earned some strange looks from a couple team members but you were too tired to care. All you wanted to do was take a year long nap.

You ended sitting in the terminal with half the team while the other half went to get coffee. Shawn sat next to you, occasionally glancing around to see if he could steal a kiss from you when no one was looking.

It was another 30 minutes until you were supposed to board but you weren’t sure you would be able to keep your eyes open for much longer. Shawn noticed your bobbing head and drooping eyes and wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pushing your head so it was resting on his shoulder.

“I’ll wake you up when it’s time to board.”

“Thanks, babe,” you whispered, pressing a subtle kiss to his shoulder as your eyes fluttered closed.

“What are you guys gonna do when you find your real soulmates?” Brian asked casually, not even looking up from his phone. Shawn’s head snapped up at the mention of “soulmates” and Brian snickered. “You two act like you’re soulmates all the freaking time. What’s gonna happen when you find the actual one for you?”

“What if we are soulmates and we just didn’t tell anyone?” It was a stupid answer but he wasn’t sure what else to say. Was he really about to expose your relationship after keeping it a secret for all this time?

“You wouldn’t be able to keep that from me.” While Brian wasn’t entirely convinced his two friends weren’t soulmates, he didn’t have the proof to say definitively that they were.

“Fair enough.”

The conversation stopped there but Shawn couldn’t stop thinking about it. Eleven months together and you somehow managed to keep it a secret from everyone. It meant that you couldn’t progress your relationship as far as you wanted to though. Was it even worth it to keep it a secret anymore?

Your boarding group was called before he could dwell on it too long and Shawn was forced to wake you up. As much as he wanted to keep you asleep, he knew there was no getting you on the plane otherwise.

“Wake up, pretty girl,” he muttered as he pressed his face to the top of your head and rubbed his hand up and down your arm. You sighed and snuggled deeper into him, craving his warmth. “You can go back to sleep soon but we gotta get on the plane.”

You lifted your head slowly, blinking at the bright lights of the terminal. Shawn helped you stand up and grabbed your carry on and helped you stand up.

“I’m supposed to take your stuff. That’s my actual job,” you said, reaching for your backpack that he was holding.

“You’re tired, honey. Let me carry your bag.”

You complied, too tired and wanting nothing more than to knock out for the five hour flight. You put your head back on Shawn’s shoulder the second he sat down next to you on the plane, out cold for the entire ride.

---

Shawn Mendes Found His Soulmate? Everything You Need to Know About the New Couple.

What You Need to Know About Shawn Mendes’ Post Last Night.

Shawn Mendes Gets Cozy With His PA in Recent Instagram Post.

The headlines seemed to be never ending as they appeared on your phone. You could hear Shawn pacing in the other room and trying to explain to Andew what was happening. It was inevitable, you knew. But did it have to happen like this?

“Andrew, I don’t know what to tell you. It was an accident!” Shawn insisted, running a hand through his hair for the millionth time since the call started.

“Do you have any idea how bad this is, Shawn?” Andrew sighed on the other side of the line. “This is exactly what I told you was going to happen!”

Texts were blowing up your phone like crazy. All your friends were wondering since when Shawn Mendes was your soulmate and why you didn’t tell them earlier. That didn’t matter so much through as you realized that you were about to lose your job, and possibly Shawn.

“We’re soulmates, Andrew! What were we supposed to do? You said that she’d be fired if she was my soulmate. Y/N loves this job and she’s amazing at it. I didn’t want to lose her!”

You felt like you were going to throw up.

From what you could hear, the rest of the conversation didn’t go too well. Shawn sounded frustrated beyond belief as he tried to save your job and relationship, leaving you wondering if you would have either of those after today. You were so lost in thought that you didn’t hear him enter the living room and sit down next to you.

“Andrew wants to have a meeting in an hour,” he sighed. You bit your lip, trying to hold back tears as you stared at the ground.

“I’m getting fired, aren’t I?” you asked.

“I have no idea, honestly. I’m not sure how much authority I have over that.” He put his head in his hands. The uncertainty of the future was killing both of you.

“Should we just break up?”

Your voice was so quiet but Shawn heard the words loud and clear.

“What!?”

“We’re obviously going to get in a ton of trouble for this. What if Andrew says we have to end it? If this ends, I want it to be on my terms, not someone else’s.”

“Y/N, he can’t make us break up.”

“But what if this destroys your career? I wouldn’t be able to live with the fact that I was the reason you had to stop doing what you loved.”

“Y/N, you’re spiraling. There is nothing, and I mean nothing, that I love more than you.”

“I just want you to be happy.” A single tear slipped down your face and Shawn wished he wasn’t the reason for it.

“You make me happy.”

You stared at each other for a moment before you threw yourself into his arms, latching on tight as sobs rang through your body. Shawn tucked his head into your neck, holding you tight and letting a few tears soak into your shirt.

“No matter what happens,” He pulled back to look directly into your eyes. “I will always love you. Nobody can make us end our relationship, okay? I don’t care if it ends my career, I will never want anything more than you.”

You nodded, not sure what else to say.

“Now, lets get yelled at by Andrew and tell him that this isn’t going to end.”

---

“Alright, let’s talk about this.” Andrew sat down across from you and Shawn, sounding calmer than he did an hour ago over the phone.

“Before you say anything, we’re not breaking up. I just wanna make that clear.” Shawn said, his thumb caressing your hand under the table.

“I’m not gonna make you break up. I just want to know why you didn’t tell me earlier.” His voice sounded strained, like he couldn’t believe that you would hide something like this from him for so long. “We could’ve prevented this whole squabble if you just told me earlier.”

“I didn’t want to lose my job,” you said. “I agreed that I wouldn’t be romantically involved with Shawn when you hired me and I broke that agreement on the first day.”

“The first day?” Andrew leaned forward in his seat.

“Yeah, we uh . . . we found out that night.”

“If I’m being honest, I’ve pretty much known for a while,” Andrew confessed. “I was waiting for one of you to tell me though. I didn’t want to pressure you.”

“But you said she could get fired-”

“I said that firing her could possibly be on the table, depending on the situation. Y/N’s a great team member and I know your relationship isn’t going to get in the way of her doing her job. I figured that if you were trying to keep it a secret for so long, you didn’t want anyone to know.”

“You knew the whole time?” Shawn leaned back in his chair, feeling a lot more relaxed now that he knew your job was safe.

“You guys were subtle but you weren’t that subtle. I pieced it together pretty quickly.”

“So I’m not getting fired?”

“No, I’m not going to fire you.”

You breathed a sigh of relief. Everything was a-okay. “Thank you, Andrew. Really, thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“No need to thank me. Your work speaks for itself.” Andrew smiled and for the first time in a long time, you felt at ease. You didn’t have to hide anything anymore. “However, we do have to deal with this situation you two have created.”

---

“Ready?” Shawn asked, his thumb hovering over the “post” button.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” you smiled. A year of hiding your relationship from everyone you knew and you were finally going to share it with the world.

“Let’s do this.” He pressed the button and just like that, the picture was up.

shawnmendes "You know you're in love when you can't fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams." -Dr. Seuss

Taglist//Add yourself//Masterlist

@fallinallincurls @lonelyreputation @yourstrulyamour @aelingalthynius @voguesir @shawnsreputation @drayshadow @otaculo @mendesficsxbombay @particularnarry @shawnaus @friendlyneighborhood-mendes @marshmallowtraver @shawn-youth @h0tcupid0 @callitropsis

Strikethrough means I couldn’t tag you. Let me know if you want to be removed!

363 notes · View notes

bump1nthen1ght · 3 years

Text

Pack Tactics (Werewolf x Reader)

Pairing: Fem!Reader/Male!Werewolf

Genre: Urban Fantasy, Established Couple, Angst with a happy ending

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2896 words

Summary: You are in a wonderful relationship with your sweet partner, Gray. But this far into the relationship, you’ve yet to tell him you have no intentions ever of having kids. You can’t help but wonder, how will your child-loving werewolf boyfriend will react?

Request: I live for very specific comfort! No pressure if this doesn’t inspire you or if you just don’t want to write it obvi.... but could I have a f!reader x m!werewolf where the reader is 100% sure she doesn’t want to have kids ever never ever in any capacity and is worried about how her werewolf bf is going to react, worried she’ll be dumped or something (ya know cause idk I feel like werewolves are built with a breeding kink and like into the whole having a lot of pups) there can be smut if you want!! I love me some dramatic angst comfort :)))))))

A/N: Sorry this took so long y’all, school and stuff has been kicking my ass. But writing this sweet little fic has been a nice reprieve from my work. Hope you enjoy!

“Alright, I’ll get the chicken, the asparagus, and the pasta. You’ve got the wine and the dessert?”

“Sure thing.”

The two of you nod, Gray stepping away from the grocery cart before you call out to him.

“And not one of those huge tubs of ice cream.”

Gray emits a dramatic whine, pouting.

“But the big one is 25 cents cheaper than those little pints. It’s practically free!”

You furrow your brow and pat him on the shoulder.

“Not if we don’t finish them, they aren’t. Now go.” Gray rolls his eyes, clutching his heart and throwing his head back. You playfully push him, walking away with the grocery cart and towards the deli section. You can see the top of Gray’s wild brown hair as he moves into the next aisle, his 6’5” form towering over all the little old ladies who usually crowd the store.

You’re browsing the chicken, trying to decide between 2 breasts or a full rotisserie, when a familiar sound reaches you.

“Oh! If it isn’t ____.” You forcibly paint a smile, fingers automatically clenched around the stellafoam package as you turn to see your next door neighbor Mrs. Star. Her teased, bleached blonde hair teeters on top of her head, bobbing back and forth with the clack of her neon blue heels. While you can respect the 60-year old for digging her feet in and refusing to update her wardrobe from the 80’s, her pension for gossip is a little less admirable. “Shocked to see you out and about, what with that big ol boyfriend of yours.” She says, blue eyeshadow crinkling into a wink and nudging you with your elbow. You wheeze a bit, quickly covering it with a laugh. “Back in our honeymoon phase, Richard and I barely left the bedroom. And he was half-way balding back then, not the babe-a-rama you got going over there.” Mrs. Star’s laugh reaches a pitch almost too high for your human ears to pick up, maybe even giving Gray 2 aisles over a headache.

“Well, y’know, gotta keep our energy up.” You wince, immediately berating yourself for that comment. Mrs. Star throws her hand up in a “oh, you” gesture, letting out another half-whistle half-screeching chuckle.

“Oh I do, honey, I do.” She sends you another dramatic wink, which you return with a shaky smile. The corner of your cart bumps into hers as you begin walking along the meat aisle, trying to forcibly end this interaction. But Mrs. Star pulls off an impressive turn with her cart and strolls alongside you. She does little to hide her wandering eyes, trying to piece together any juicy info from your groceries. “So, are you two trying for kids yet?”

The wheels squeal to a sudden stop, forcing you to choke on your saliva as the shopping cart’s handle digs into your stomach. You keep your gaze locked on the frozen steaks and turkeys, already way past the chicken you meant to grab.

“Uhhh, no. We’re not really in the phase of our relationship yet.”

Mrs. Star clicks her tongue, pressing her hand to her chest in a show of embarrassment. “I’m sorry, dearie. Old habits you see, whenever a new couple moves in together I assume they’re halfway to the wedding already. You young kids like to take it slow, huh?”

You nod, hastily grabbing a package of buffalo wings, hoping for an excuse to escape this conversation.

Mrs. Star continues to walk by you, her cart blocking off any convenient means to leave unless you significantly pick up her speed. Her eyes glance over the sweats sat in a display in the center of the aisle, humming a small tune.

The end of the aisle is approaching, you’re almost home free! You ready your feet to book it with an excuse, but Mrs. Star clears her throat and begins to speak.

“Now dearie, I don’t mean to pry-”

What do you call these last 3 minutes, Star?

“But I’d at least pop on a ring on that finger soon. Someday someone’s going to snatch that boy up like a piece of meat, saying all the right things. Men got all those suspicions about over-the-hill pregnancies, his eyes might start wandering. That’s how my first divorce went, so I should know.”

You pull your cart to a stop, breathe catching as you look at Mrs. Star, shocked. You can handle some inappropriate questions, but to question your boyfriend’s loyalty and insulting your relationship is crossing another line. Your brows furrow with a simmering anger, your cheeks heating up as you're ready to let loose.

“Well, Mrs. Star, if you must know I have the most wonderful boyfriend on this side of the planet, and unlike your deadbeat first husband, he’s as loyal as they can be.” Mrs. Star looks at you, eyes widened and right hand halfway to grab a pack of oreos. You huff, pushing your cart away from hers and towards the cash register. Right before you leave her sight, you turn back to her with a simpering smirk. “Have a great day, Mrs. Star!”

Your heart is heaving with anger, prepping a rant to Gray about the horrible interaction you just had. On the other side of the store, you spot Gray, his curly hair all tussled, holding a large Rosé and a package of ice cream sandwiches. Just the sight of his back calms you a bit, excited for some delicious food and late-night cuddles. You jog a little towards him, but slow down when you see him crouch down, looking at something hidden from your sight.

You turn your shopping cart slightly, trying to peer behind his massive form, and freeze.

Gray’s sticking out his tongue, pushing up his nose, and making many more silly gestures to a baby in a stroller. The baby laughs, it’s chubby cheeks bright red as Gray blows another raspberry, thrashing its arms up and down with joy. The dad is laughing at Gray’s antics, leaning down and patting his kid on the head.

Gray promptly stands up, sending another big smile to the kid, before waving goodbye. The six-month-old waves back, uncoordinated and decidedly adorable. Gray laughs, turning away and walking towards you.

Your feet feel cemented to the floor, heart down in your stomach.

He’s a natural, you think, nausea building up in your throat.

Gray was the oldest of eight, not a large number for a werewolf family. You adored them, and they you, but Gray had a way of dealing with his youngest siblings. Whether it was letting them climb all over him like a jungle gym, or attending imaginary tea parties, Gray was a pro. He was the guy to cram himself into a tiny chair at the kids table, eating tiny cookies and cracking jokes. ‘Dad’ seemed to be stamped into his very being, the cuddly werewolf with a love of children. He’s any mother-in-law’s dream.

But all those sweet things turn sour when you think about what Mrs. Star said. Gray, moving on without you.

Gray’s eyes light up when he sees your cart, jogging over and holding up the bottle of wine like a prize.

“Hey!” He says, quickly sliding an arm around your waist and giving you a peck on the cheek. “I got your favorite, and those delicious mint-chocolate sandwiches.”

His happy voice and comforting touch help abate whatever it is your feeling, but the way Gray’s brow furrows tells you your discomfort is present in your eyes. “Is everything okay?” His large hand comes up and rubs your shoulder. You give him a shaky smile, fighting away negative thoughts with a bat.

“Yeah, let’s go home.”

---------

Wet fur presses up against your bare neck as you lazily stir the boiling water, Gray’s shifted muzzle now snug in the crook of your shoulder, the white flecks across his dark fur peeking into your periphery. Your free hand instinctively goes back to scratch between his ears, causing him to let out a satisfied huff, hot air blowing across your chest.

“That smells good baby.”

“It’s just salt and water Gray. The pasta’s barely al dente.”

Gray laughs, turning his head slightly so he can press a small kiss onto your cheek.

“You could make even that taste delicious, ____”

You dramatically roll your eyes, pushing away his chin as he continues to peck and nip at your neck. After showering Gray always made sure to rub in some cherry-blossom leave-in conditioner into his fur. The artificial perfumes just lightly touch your senses, but the mental connection they have to Gray make them smell that much sweeter. You turn and give him a quick kiss on the lips, patting his shoulder once more.

“Do you mind setting the table? Maybe get started on those messy dishes?”

“No problem.” Gray mumbles, reluctantly pulling away from you and tugging up the towel that hangs loose on his hips. He barely needs to reach for your fancy plates on the top shelf, his chest muscles flexing and bicep taut. Even with his thick fur, you can see the bone of his clavicle which accentuates his long neck.

God, he’s so hot.

You think, smirking a bit as you continue stirring.

And all mine.

You hum, but the cheery mood you’re in quickly sours once you remember your conversation with Mrs. Star. That small seed of doubt seems to grow and leech from your chest.

2 years into this relationship and the two of you have only danced around the conversation of the future. You of course had agreed on living together, what your career paths looked like, even the potential of getting married in a couple years, but never kids. As two 20-somethings, you felt like you had all the time in the world.

But the thing was, you didn’t really need all the time in the world.

You didn't want kids. Even with your family or your neighbors needing that your opinion “might change some day,” you were confident in that decision. Not that you hated them, you just could never picture yourself being a mom. A fun aunt, maybe, but never a mom. It wasn’t even a point of contention in your own mind; The picture of you, your partner, and maybe a couple of pets thriving into your elders was bliss enough.

You sneak a glance to Gray, now clothed and back turned to you as he sets the table. He’s diligently folding the napkins into fun shapes, a ritual he does every date night. From the hole in his jeans you can see his tail wagging, content as he hums to the low radio playing on the window sill.

A smile crawls onto your face, a small giggle escaping you as you watch Gray’s hips bob to the beat, silently mouthing the words. You snort as he does a dramatic little shoulder shift, Gray’s head whipping back towards the kitchen as you throw your hand over your mouth.

“What, don't you like my moves?” Gray says, shimmering his shoulders again, a large grin across his face.

“They could use some work, Kevin Bacon.” Gray clutches his chest, throwing his head back in mock pain.

“You wound me. After all these years, you would cut me so deep?”

“Sure would.” You turn back towards the simmering pasta, setting the wooden spoon on the rim and brushing your hands on your jeans. “Oof!” You squeak as you yanked away, Gray wrapping his arms around your waist, twirling you in a stumbling circle.

“And how ‘bout now, m’lady?” Gray simpers, eyebrow cocked. Your hands slap his chest as you laugh. He lets your feet back down on the floor, but keeps his arms locked around your waist. The two of you slow dance to the beat, and when the chorus hits, Gray gives his worst rendition possible. You bemoan and feign plugging your ears, but find yourself singing along anyway.

Everything about Gray is warm and bright, from his goofy grin to his excitable tail to his two left feet. He adds that pep of energy to your daily routine, pulling you out of an exhausting cycle for a quick jog to the beach or an episode of your favorite drama. Gray fills out all of those little spaces, makes them a little less gray.

Your head rests against his chest, feeling the fur through the fabric of his t-shirt as the two of you sway back and forth.

You want it to stay this way.

But that pestering weed squeezes your heart again, forcing images of Gray with a kid on his shoulders. Showing up to little-league football games with a big cooler and a “#1 dad” T-shirt. All those little moments, all without you.

You can’t fight the deep sigh, pressing your face even deeper into Gray.

Just let me have this. Just this moment, just for now.

-------

“Ugh, I think my stomach is going to explode from excess-pasta.”

Gray huffs, laying his head on your lap as the two of you slump onto the couch. His tail wags lazily, flickering back and forth as his legs swing over the coach's side, his long torso bunched up as he curls into you. The fur of his head is soft as you twist your fingers into it. “But I gotta say, what a way to go out.”

You giggle, losing your thoughts in his soft fur. Gray lets out another deep breath, nuzzling his face into your hand. You brush over his cheek with your thumb, admiring the cheekbone you feel just underneath.

But that burning question refuses to leave your mind, and you ask it without even thinking.

“Do you want kids, Gray?”

Gray’s eye’s stay closes, his posture relaxed as he sinks into your massaging fingers.

“Hmmm, maybe. Never really thought too much about it. Why?”

Your throat dries up, mind reeling. It wasn’t even a definitive yes, but your heart is still reeling. Your fingers pause and Gray's eyes open. He shifts his head when he sees the look on your face, concerned. “Babe?”

You nod, eyes still wide, trying to fight off the inklings of a panic attack. Gray pushes himself up on his elbows, paw quickly coming to caress your cheek. “Baby, is everything alright?”

You find the energy to breathe, and suck in deeply. Your heart begins to slow down as you look into Gray’s yellow wolf eyes. You dig your cheek into his large palm, smelling the perfume of his conditioner.

“Yes, sorry, I just-” You pause, taking another deep breath. “I ran into Mrs. Star in the grocery store, and-I’m sorry I’m overthinking things.” You mutter, patting yourself on the cheek as to snap yourself out of your mood. Grays other hand rubs the back of your neck.

“It’s okay, baby, I’m here. Did she say something?”

“No-Well, yes. It’s silly, typical Star things. She just brought up how ‘ought to get started having kids, and it just-” You let out a shaky sigh, pulling away Gray’s hand with your own and looking him straight in the eye. “I don’t want to have kids, ever.”

In Gray’s eyes, you expect to….something. Confusion, disappointment, maybe? But instead, all you see is relief. Gray rests his paw on your thigh, squeezing it.

“_____, is that what you’ve been worrying about?” You nod, throwing your eyes back down, but Gray tilts your chin towards him. “If you don’t want kids, we won’t have kids. Simple as that.”

Your eyes widen and you pull your face back.

“Seriously? But-what if-”

“____, I grew up with eight siblings. I’m going to have to deal with more nieces and nephews then I can count on my fingers and my toes, I think I can handle not having kids.”

A weight lifts off of your chest and you slump forward into Gray, pressing your forehead against his clavicles as you let out a long, relieved sigh. He laughs, patting your back and kissing the top of your head. “I’m sorry you had to deal with this all day, I didn’t even realize you were so upset.”

You slap his chest, letting out another frustrated sigh. With him? No, but yourself, and Mrs. Star, for stirring up nightmares for no damn good reason.

“It’s not your fault, it’s mine for being so paranoid.” You press your chin up, pouty lips admiring your boyfriend's face. “I’m sorry for freaking out. She really got me into my own head.”

“No apologies needed baby.” Gray says, giving you a small peck. You send him a cheesy smile, chasing after his lips with a couple of small kisses. A low rumble growls out from his chest as you nip at his jawline. Behind him, you hear his tail begin to hump on the floor.

“Hmm, does that mean you feel better?” You nod, pressing another kiss into his pulse point.

“Yes, thank you for letting me get that out.” Another kiss, now on his Adam’s apple.

“Welp,” Gray says, quickly adjusting himself. In another second, you yelp as he picks you up by your butt, legs quickly wrapping around his waist, “Let’s give Mrs. Star something to talk about, hmm?”

You throw your head back with a laugh, clinging tight to his chest as Gray blows a raspberry into your neck. “That good with you, my lady?”

You nod, giving him another kiss on the lips as he carries you off into the bedroom.

Yeah, you have it good.

#monster romance #monster x reader #reader insert #female reader insert #female reader #werewolf x reader #my writing

387 notes · View notes