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goldenroutledge · 3 days

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never say goodbye

pairing: daniel ricciardo x reader

word count: 2.3k

summary: you remind daniel of who he is when he needs it most.

warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, swearing but a happy ending (i tried)

a/n: self-indulgent to unbreak my heart a little bit. if he really leaves for good, the void will never be filled. there will never be another danny ric :,)

i listened to michael giacchino’s bundle of joy from inside out while writing this. if i could put my feelings into music, it would be this <3

Your heart aches seeing the expression on Daniel’s face; painstakingly bittersweet in showing his signature smile even when it kills him. It gives you at least a little comfort knowing that no matter what happens, nobody will take that away from him. As he recounts his time in Formula 1 in the interview, it is clear that his journey here has not only been a mere time in his life but it is a part of his being. The ebbs and flows, the triumphs and defeats he’s experienced over the last decade condensed into a few short yet symbolic sentences.

This might be the least talkative anyone has ever seen Daniel Ricciardo, who's otherwise radiating relentless positivity to a point that is undeniable. You know that’s still alive in him somewhere underneath it all. Maybe that’s part of why it hurts so much, he is someone so undeserving of such treatment, to be dismissed this way. Everyone can feel it, and even under the night sky of Singapore, the paddock is enclosed in its own bubble. When the bright lights go down and the noise turns to silence, you can only imagine how he’ll be when it’s just the two of you again, knowing that those with the brightest smiles hold in the heaviest tears.

It’s impossible to miss the solemn glances toward him or the way the interviewer’s eyes match the look in Daniel’s, searching in the dark for an end to this nightmare. Even from afar you can see the way he’s holding back tears, choosing his words carefully to keep the dam from breaking just a little bit longer. He musters a smile and a nod at the end of his interview trying to convey that it's going to be okay, he is going to be okay.

Before you know it he’s making his way back to the team’s hospitality. Claps and cheers interrupt your thoughts, and you glance around to see his team members and friends now surrounding you near the entrance. It’s hard for everyone to see him this way but they also can’t help but be astounded at the way his head is still held high. He thanks each and every one of them with gratitude, before locking eyes with you at the very end.

Unexpectedly, your eyes are filled with tears at the sight of him. A quiet sob leaves your lips as he scoops you into his arms, swaying you both soothingly. “I’m sorry.” You whisper, barely loud enough for him to hear and for reasons you can’t quite explain. I’m sorry I can’t keep it together. I’m sorry you have to be so strong. I’m sorry this is happening to you.

Daniel knows everything you mean by that, and feels his throat swell up, pressing a long kiss to your cheek instead. You squeeze your eyes shut, letting yourself take in his embrace for a few moments before it’s over. A few tears fall down your cheek and you’re not sure who they belong to.

After a deep breath you pull away from him, returning a kiss to his cheek along with a proper smile of reassurance. As deeply as you feel for him right now, you feel just as much of a responsibility to make sure he’s taken care of.

“Meet you at the hotel after your debriefs?”

Daniel nods, eyes solemn as they drift behind you into the hospitality suite. He sighs, knowing what’s ahead of him. You figure it would be nice to give him a little time to himself, to stitch up his remaining wounds and take in what could be his last moments as a Formula 1 driver. To say a sudden goodbye to this paddock, his second home for the last 13 years, and to say goodbye to all of those that have been beside him, who have become a second family over those 13 years.

“Yeah, I’ll see you soon.”

Daniel gives you one last smile of reassurance, knowing that no matter how many times he tells you he’s okay, you won’t believe him. He pecks your lips softly, walking inside and waving to you from behind the glass door. You wave back, still struck with emotion, feeling like a parent sending their child into their first day of school. Instead of the moment being a new beginning that’s filled with hope and joy, it’s a moment of bittersweet ending filled with sorrow and sadness.

You can only hope that whatever’s waiting for him on the other side of this, he’s happy. You make a promise to yourself that you’ll be there through all of the grief and the restlessness it will take for him to get there.

Back at the hotel, you sit quietly for a while, gathering your thoughts. It certainly wouldn’t be in your best interest to scroll through the endless articles and videos of a heartbroken Daniel giving interviews. Though seeing him secure both the fastest lap and driver of the day makes you smile. P1 or P18, he is beloved by everyone inside of the paddock and out. He infects others with a unique energy that can’t be replicated. One could only dream to help him truly understand that.

The unzipped suitcases in your hotel room were taunting, as if they could know how badly you didn’t want this to be the last time you both have to pack up and leave a race weekend. But the thought of Daniel coming back and having to do all of this himself was even more painful. Begrudgingly, you began to organize the contents of your luggage.

Underneath one of Daniel’s hoodies were a collection of bracelets and trinkets from fans given to him over the last two weeks. Yet another reminder of something he’d be saying goodbye to. These gifts weren’t simply material things. They were symbols of the love and adoration people had for Daniel. They were a representation of the inspiration he gave to so many around the world. And not only to them, but to his friends, his family members, and to you.

This moment felt like deja vu as you vividly witnessed him say goodbye once before when his time ended at McLaren. And then the spark of hope began to glow brighter once again when he was welcomed back to Red Bull as a reserve driver, and then as a driver for RB.

It was a journey you’d been capturing for quite some time now on your own camera, moments that you weren’t ready for Daniel to see just yet. Of course the end of his career was bound to come, but you believed you’d have more time and you’d have more experiences turned memories for him to look back on. You find the camera in your handbag before gathering your laptop and USB. If now wasn’t the right time, you didn’t know when it would be. The clock tells you that you only have a couple hours, maybe more depending on how long he spends at the track. Thanks to the extra surge of emotions you’d been feeling tonight, the memories from your camera and a video production class you took in school many years ago, you’re able to pour it all into a little gift for him.

After watching it once through, you uploaded it onto a spare flashdrive. Luckily you had one that would’ve otherwise been used to store photos for daniel3.jpg.

You barely noticed that hours had gone by, the clock now reading 1:46am. Your heart breaks for Daniel. Despite being apart from him you know how he must be feeling. Yet above it all, you knew he’d be leaving with a smile.

The door clicks open.

Exhausted, Daniel drags his feet inside. He’s relieved to see you stayed awake for him. There’s nobody he’d rather be alone with right now. Without a word, he relaxes into your arms that are open and waiting for him, and his for you.

Unsure of how to start the conversation, you decide that you should let the video you made for him speak for itself. You hold him for as long as he needs, feeling his breathing steady into a calm rhythm.

“I have a surprise for you.”

“Is it underneath this hoodie?” He teases suggestively, lips curling into a smile. He tugs at the bottom of the fabric to emphasize his point.

“Later.” You quip, taking his arm and patting a spot for him to sit next to you.

He looks utterly confused yet intrigued when you hand him a flashdrive, but puts it into the laptop anyway. “What is this?”

“You’ll see.”

Daniel clicks the play button on the black screen. The sounds of soft piano music is the first thing he hears before a picture of himself as a child illuminates the screen.

The voice of an interviewer plays over it, asking: “What would you tell your younger self?”

“Enjoy the butterflies, enjoy being naive, enjoy the nerves, the pressure, people not knowing your name… all that stuff. Enjoy the process of making a name for yourself, getting faster and faster with each lap, and meeting some great people along the way. Embrace the good ones, stay focused.”

A collection of pictures plays in sync with the audio of Daniel from his youth to now, edited in a perfect sequence. The clips show his best moments; his podiums, his shoeys, his radio messages, his laughs shared with fellow drivers, him riding into the Austin Grand Prix on Horsey McHorse, his fans cheering as he walks through Albert Park, hugging his niece before a race.

“You got to the dance in the first place doing what you do so don’t change too much. Don’t forget what got you here. Earn the parties, earn the drinks. Bring friends along, bring family along, don’t assume they’ll be a distraction, they might be something to take the weight off your shoulders on a race weekend, they’re also people to enjoy the moment with and to celebrate with, so don’t be afraid to surround yourself with people you care about and love.” The clips showed moments in the paddock with his fans, friends, family, and with you, always cheering for him.

The video shows him again, smiling wide as he reflects on some of the best lessons this life has shown him. “So, yeah. Get after it.”

Soft piano notes play once again, detailing ambivalent sounds that are yearning and wishful but also bring solace. Daniel is focused on the screen, so much so that he doesn’t pay attention to the tears that have started streaming down his face. In his eyes is love and gratitude for the journey he’s been on, and to you for reminding him of it in such a meaningful way. Your head rests on his shoulder carefully and you’re anxious to know what he’s thinking.

“You made that for me?”

“Mhm. I’ve been wanting to do something like this for you, I just didn’t know when it would be a good time to show you.”

“I guess there’s no better time than now, right?” Daniel mumbles, looking at you with admiration.

“I know you’ve been unsure of yourself for a while. And as much as I want to, there’s nothing I can do to change that. I don't always know what to say, so I thought, there’s no one better to tell you who you are than you.”

You take his face in your hands, gently brushing away any spare tears.

“But what I can tell you Daniel, is that I love you. I know you don’t want to be sad because you think you’ll be letting everyone down, but you could never let me down. You can be happy or sad or angry, you can shatter these lamps on the floor if you need to and I won’t be disappointed. If you let me, I’ll help you pick up the pieces. Whenever you feel alone, just remember you have me.”

Daniel can’t deny the way his heart warms at your words, an abundance of love and sincerity behind them. He tilts his head, pressing kisses to each of your wrists. “I love you, too. Even if I don’t deserve you.”

You scoff, harmlessly nudging him in response. “Shut up, they don’t deserve you. Fuck them all. That’s why I did that, to show you that there’s actually no one more deserving than you.”

“Yeah. Fuck ‘em all.” Daniel chuckles, looking down to hide the blush on his cheeks. You both sit there in a comforting silence, happy to be hidden away from the outside world for the night. With both of your busy schedules keeping you apart, times like these are especially important. There’s nobody you’d rather come home to, there’s nobody else that feels like a safe haven away from the cruel world that’s now turned its back on him.

“I can’t thank you enough, honey. I love you. I don’t know what the future holds… but I promise I’ll never take you for granted. How you always stick beside me, I’ll never know. It might be the end of an era in my career but I could never forget that I have you. You have me, too. When it comes to this,” Daniel gestures between the two of you, “I wouldn’t even know how to say goodbye.”

“And you won’t have to. We’ll never say goodbye.”

Your eyes twinkle and you press your lips to his, kissing him with a passion that can’t be put into words. Perhaps he didn’t get the fairytale ending he wanted and deserved in his career, but what he has here with you could easily pass as a fairytale of its own kind. It's what allows you both to sleep peacefully, knowing that whatever lies ahead, the only goodbye you won’t have to make is to each other.

a/n: comments, reblogs, and feedback is greatly appreciated! stay strong dr3 nation 💌

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arcadia-of-pluto · 1 day

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Casually calling them "daddy" LADS

Word count; 1,913

Themes; slightly barely there suggestive content, fluff, established relationship

Warnings; mention of "daddy" ofc, fluff

Notes; So these turned out more fluffy than I originally intended...honestly, thought they'd be more smutty, but I've learnt that it's really difficult for me to write smut. Or at least, smut with little to no context before it all goes down. I might eventually write some smuttier drabbles, but regardless of smut, I hope you enjoy this little thing I wrote!

You saw that there was an old trend about calling your boyfriend “daddy” and videoing their reaction so, obviously, you wanted to give it a try…

Xavier

It's been almost a year since you and Xavier started dating– and it was a wonderful eleven months! He told you everything about himself. What his future with you was like, all of his feelings throughout the centuries, and you listened. You wholeheartedly believed him, because it would be one hell of a lie if it wasn't true…and you didn't think Xavier had the time or energy to come up with a complex lie like that.

But even if you now know, time moves on. There's not much you can do about your future self, so you can't really change the future in that way though…Xavier's here now, in the past, and that's all that matters to you.

Anyway, today was just a normal day as any.

You were sitting at the counter, keeping a close eye on Xavier– who was attempting to follow, yet another, cooking tutorial. The man was desperate to cook a decent meal for you. His heart dead set on making you something edible for your upcoming year anniversary…and while that was cute, you also wanted to mess with him.

You push your cup just out of your reach and make a big show of trying to reach for it, before sighing loudly.

“Daddy, can you pass me my drink please?”

You can hear the clang of a spatula hitting the floor and you watch Xavier’s body comically whip around to face you.

“What?” His head cocks to the side as his wide eyes were set on your face. “Say that again..”

“Hmm? I said ‘Xav, can you pass me my drink, please’.” You copy his head tilt and he quickly shakes his head.

“No, no you didn't.” He takes a few steps toward you before grabbing your hand in-between both of his. “Say it again.”

You couldn't resist his sweet puppy dog eyes, so you hold back a smile as you meet his eyes. “I...called you daddy.”

“Really?” He seems unusually excited. “So are we…?” His gaze lowers to your stomach and you can’t help the giggle that slips from your lips.

Gosh, he was so cute.

“Baby– no, no. We're not pregnant.” You run your fingers through his hair with a smile on your lips. “Are...you disappointed?”

“Mmh..” Xavier hums thoughtfully for a moment before he shakes his head. “No. We can just make it a reality later. No need to rush.”

Zayne

You and Zayne have only been dating for six months, but it felt like much longer. Having known each other since you were little, you both had always been close– well, your definition of close and his were probably different. You always thought of him as a friend while he tried to keep a distance and thought you hated him. But time brought you both back together with him as your primary care physician.

The two of you had been flirting up until his birthday and finally made it official once he blew his candles out on the cake you made for him. It was a sweet time, but that was six months ago.

Now, though, you really want to fluster the man.

He always embarrasses you and makes you feel nervous, but you never get to see him that way. Sure, his ears will turn red and sometimes he won't meet your eyes when you get too intense with him, but you've never seen him absolutely shocked. And you just wanted to see one look of surprise from him.

So, what did you decide to do?

You decided to casually call him "daddy” as a joke.

That should definitely go over well.

Zayne is seated behind his desk at the hospital, sorting through papers as you longue on his sofa. Your eyes continuously glancing toward the windows to make sure the door was shut and the blinds were closed.

“If you keep staring at the door, you just might burn a hole through it.” Zayne says, though he didn't even look up from his paperwork. He was attentive like that and probably already knew you wanted something or you were ready to go home. And he was right.

“When are we going home…daddy?” You ask as you kick your feet in the air behind you. You were on your stomach, resting your cheek against your arms as you watched his expression…which didn't change at all.

"Just give me a few more minutes, angel, and I'll be done.” Zayne pushes his glasses up with his index finger and clicks his pen, jotting down a few notes.

“I–” You puff your cheeks out with a small sigh and decide to keep going with it. “I want to go home now, daddy.”

“Didn't I just tell you to be patient?” Now Zayne finally looks up at you with one of his brows raised. “I'll deal with you when we get home.”

Rafayel

It's been four months since Rafayel asked you out. Four months since you tugged Rafayel down into the bath with you, which set off a chain reaction of a steamy night, followed by him asking you out the next morning; he also complained that you both went out of order, but he wasn’t too upset when you continued where you left off…

Now, though, you moved out of your apartment and to Rafayel's home, ‘Mo Art Studio’ at Whitesand Bay.

It was definitely odd at first, but it was a good change of pace. Always being by the ocean, able to take your morning walks together on the beach and collect seashells. You had a whole collection on your desk at work. He'd always give you the most unique and prettiest shells, saying “only the best for his cutie”.

He was also so easy to fluster.

You immediately knew you had him wrapped around your finger every time his ears would turn red. That same crimson slowly made its way from his ears to his cheeks, all the way to his whole face. So you assumed your little ‘prank’ would also have the same effect.

You were sitting on a beach towel in the sand with an umbrella blocking your eyes from the bright sun. In front of you was Rafayel, painting your visage, with an easel. His hand deftly moves across the canvas as he sketches the outline for his new painting.

Lately, you are the only thing he can paint. Always asking you to stop what you're doing so he can run and get his sketch pad. You could be doing something so normal and mundane, but he'd be struck with the inspiration to record your very image.

As much as you loved it and thought this was very sweet, after almost two weeks of this…You wanted some form of payback.

“Hey, daddy, can we take a break for a second? It’s really hot out here.” You squint your eyes to try and see Rafayel's face, your hand fanning at your body because you, seriously, are hot out here.

“Huh?”

It's like Rafayel is frozen in time, or buffering. He's just blankly staring at you with a confused expression on his face until his pencil drops into the sand. That's when he quickly stands up and makes his way toward you.

“Again.”

Now, it's your turn to be confused.

“Raf, what–”

“Not that, say the other word again.” His ears were red as he crouched down in front of you, a look of determination in his eyes.

“No– you're making it weird!” You put your hands on his shoulders, trying to put some distance between him as your face turns red.

“Please, I really need to hear you say it again! I'm seriously going to die if you don't.” There's your overdramatic fishy.

“Fine, but just this once.” You grumble, turning your head to look away from him. “Daddy…” Though you say it as low as you can and Rafayel groans, tilting his head back.

“Louder.” He rests his forehead against yours. “Come on, cutie. If you don't…I might want to change that to my new nickname.”

Sylus

It's been about…a year? Yes, definitely a year since you and Sylus started dating. Well, you both have differing opinions on when exactly you started dating. Sylus claims it was the moment he laid eyes on you in the N109 Zone, while you claim it was only about six months ago– which is when you and Sylus made a bet.

It was a bet where if he came back safely from his mission, he'd leave you alone. He wouldn't bother you anymore, wouldn't talk to you, contact you, anything of the sort…and you won, but you didn't realize he'd actually do it. So whenever you seeked him out to make sure he was safe, and he ignored you, you realized that maybe you did want him in your life.

This led to you running across the street to him and jumping into his arms like this was a hallmark movie, and you claim this was when you officially started dating Sylus.

But between us, you just agree with Sylus when he says a year, because if you don't, he'll pout for the whole day.

...And today was one of those ‘pouty Sylus’ days.

You went on a mission that was probably way too dangerous, even though you told Sylus you were going to slow down on your Hunter's work. But you couldn't just ignore endangered civilians. If any of them would have died, that would've been too much for your sympathetic heart to handle.

And even if Sylus understands your reasoning, he's still upset that you left without telling him– having woken up to a cold bed without you by his side sent him spiraling into a panic.

So, when you got home, you noticed he was sulking in the kitchen as he made dinner.

“Sy…” You take your shoes off by the door, nervously fiddling with your fingers as you tentatively walk into the kitchen. Standing behind the counter, you sigh, “I'm reeaally sorry...”

“If you're reeaaally sorry, then help me make our dinner.” He says, not looking up at you and that doesn't make you feel any better.

“Okay..” You finally step past the counter and you look around. “So…what do you need?” You were trying to figure out something– anything that could make Sylus feel better when a thought comes to your mind.

Most guys probably like it when their girlfriend calls them daddy…right?

“In the cabinet, top shelf. I need a bottle of garlic powder.”

Okay, you got this.

You take a deep breath and open the cabinet, straining your arm to try and reach the seasoning bottle, but your fingertips barely brush it and knock it over. “Shit…” You swallow back your nervousness before continuing, “Daddy, can you grab it for me?”

The room fills with silence for a moment, but then you hear Sylus chuckle.

“Sure, kitten.”

Your back suddenly feels warm as a firm chest presses against it and Sylus reaches up from behind you to grab the bottle.

“I ask you to do one simple thing and you can't even do that.” Sylus chides, clicking his tongue as he pops the bottle open to pour some into the pan on the stove.

“Da–”

“If you think a few empty words will make me feel better, kitten…you've got to try a lot harder than that.”

I'd like to say, this is definitely one of my better drabbles– one of my favorites, in fact!

I have like...six more ideas for drabbles and then I'll need to come up with some more. Like these new cards and Rafayel's student photoshoot event really had me thinking of how seriously the LADS men would take roleplaying– and that spawned a whole different drabble idea, so you can definitely look forward to that!

I'm trying to come up with new ways to do my drabbles, so that's why I did a little prelude before I started writing for the guys. Please let me know any feedback yall have for me! Especially with the coloured dialogue, I'm not too sure if I like it, but it seems really pretty and probably makes it easier to tell who is talking apart. (I won't use it for my fic though, only the drabbles!)

Anyway, I have a small personal project I'm working on this weekend so I probably won't be able to write any chapters for my 'Divisa' fic, but I'm still going to post chapter nineteen of 'Twist of Fate' and try to write at least two more chapters since I'm only on twenty-three or so.

I hope you all enjoyed these drabbles and I hope yall have a great night/day! 🩷

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eternalbuckley · 2 days

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Together. — aemond targaryen

SUMMARY: Aemond and you still love each other even if you weren't together anymore. So what happens if you're hanging out with your shared group friends and he invites you to a drink in his apartment? You might end up tangled with each other in his bed and talk about your feelings the next morning.

word count: 5,658

genre: slight angst with fluff, smut with plot | afab!reader, queer!reader, bipoc!reader and plus-size!reader friendly

warnings/tropes: modern au, 18+ MDNI!! NSFW (this part is divided with dividers so you can skip the actual smut part if you want), p in v sex, no use of protection (wrap it up folks thanks), cunnilingus, creampie (again, use protection), descriptions of alcohol use, mention of tipsy reader and aemond, slight cursing, use of they pronoun once, english is not my first language, slightly proofread — if I forgot something, please let me know!

a/n: it's my first time writing p in v smut, so please bear with me, i'm still trying to figure it out! this entire fanfic turned out to be the longest piece i've ever written lmao.i hope you'll enjoy it <3 reblogs, likes and comments are appreciated and highly welcomed!

disclaimer: please do not repost or try and take ownership of my work or post this anywhere without my consent. do not translate my work and post it anywhere — i give you no permission to do that. i only post my stories here, so if you find my work anywhere else please let me know!

18+ MDNI divider by cafekitsune

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The breakup between Aemond and you was mutually decided. Both of you were quite busy with your jobs and barely had time for each other anymore, which ended in a lot of arguments. Many of them were based on miscommunication or if anyone of you felt like the other one wasn’t giving them enough attention and love. This was the reason why you both mutually decided to break up after you’ve been together for a few years, both of you thinking it was the best decision during this time.

You still loved and cared for each other, but it wasn’t the right time to be with each other, as each one of you had a stressful period of your life, and the constant arguments outweighed most of the soft moments between you. You tried to be each other’s support, but it ended up in the opposite way during this time. It was clear, to everyone who knew you, that you two were still longing for each other over the months since you broke up. You tried dating other people in hopes you could fill the void that has been there ever since you parted ways, but it didn’t work out for either of you.

Aemond and you shared the same group of friends, or at least shared a few friends that hang out together every two to three weeks. Two times you and Aemond invited the people you were seeing to hang out with your friends. Meaning you and him would see each other as well. This didn’t work out quite well because the people you were seeing noticed how you and Aemond constantly looked in each other’s direction. They quickly realized that neither Aemond nor you stopped loving one another or knew that you still had some sort of feelings for the other one, even if you both tried to ignore or deny it, you knew the truth.

Your friends noticed this longing dynamic between you two ever since you told them that you decided to part ways for now. No one could say that they didn’t see the longing stares both of you had whenever the other one wasn’t looking, or the gentle touches you had on each other from time to time that were just lingering quite too long for friends.

Many times, Aemond would ask his sister, Helaena, who was one of your closest friends, if you had already found someone else or how you were doing. Especially if he noticed that you seemed off one day you and your friends hung out, he’d immediately try to find a moment to get to text or talk to Helaena alone and ask her about it. If she was able to tell him something, she would give him a few details. And you would do the same if you noticed something different about him and asked Helaena most of the time. Sometimes you would go to Aegon, in hopes that he hopefully might know something. It would depend on the situation. It was hard to ignore or deny that you two still deeply cared about each other.

Both of you were currently hanging out with your friends again, sitting next to Helaena and having your legs over hers as you laughed with her. Watching the boys as they turned on the fire of the campfire. Aemond sat opposite from you and Helaena and tried not to look over at you too much and to focus more on the conversation he had with one of your friends. It was a cozy and quiet night; everyone was having a good time. Helaena excused herself for a moment to get herself another drink as you took a swig from your own bottle. You noticed how she slightly nodded in Aemond’s direction as she went back into the kitchen of the house. A few seconds later, you saw how he slowly walked over to you.

“Can I sit down?” He asked with a soft tone in his voice and motioned to the seat next to you. You looked up to him and nodded, slightly scooting to the side to make more room for him to sit down. Your arms brushed against one another as he sat down next to you, sending a slight shiver down your spine, but you tried to play it down and didn’t pay attention to it.

You took another swig from your bottle, even if it was almost empty. You could have gotten up to get another bottle, but you didn’t want to ruin the moment with Aemond. You haven’t really had any conversations with him in the past few weeks, only having your eyes on each other. It was quite a comfortable atmosphere between you, as you watched the fire and listened to its crackles, but he had his eyes on you, admiring you as the fire cast a beautiful light on your face. He reached out and removed something from your hair, causing you to look at him for a moment, slightly confused. But in the short moment his fingers brushed over your hair sent a warmth through your body.

“It was just a tiny bug,” he tried to keep his voice low. Your lips turned into a small smile, “Thank you.”

Neither of you really knew what to say, you wanted to have a conversation with him, but you didn’t quite know what you could talk about. You could have asked him about his life, what he was up to at the moment, but you weren’t sure if he was even ready to talk about it.

As you wanted to ask something he got pulled away by Aegon. “Sorry, my lady,” he had his hands on Aemond’s shoulders and grinned, “I need my brother for a moment! He will be back at your service in a moment,” he giggled, clearly drunk as he dragged Aemond away.

You sighed with a smile on your lips and didn’t stop him, sometimes it was hilarious when Aegon was drunk. Occasionally, you wished things were different, but it was what you and Aemond had decided, so you must stick with it. You slowly nodded to yourself and got into the house to get another bottle, joining Helaena and completely missing the way Aemond longingly looked over to you as his brother talked his ear off.

A few hours later, you were talking with Helaena again, sitting together with Aemond on a bench in front of the campfire. He sat next to you, and you felt the warmth of the flames and his body, it was a pleasant feeling that filled you. His arm was resting behind you on the backrest of the bench you were sitting on. Helaena left you and Aemond alone for a moment after she had finished her story.

When she left, he slightly leaned into you and whispered into your ear, his voice casual. “Would you mind joining me for a drink back in my apartment?” He was nervous about how you would react. He already expected that you would refuse him, but he raised his eyebrows for a short moment as you accepted his invitation. Aemond cleared his throat and nodded, happy that you said yes.

A few minutes later you and him said your goodbyes to your friends. Helaena had a smirk on her lips as she hugged you. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do with my partner, babe,” she teased you and whispered into your ear.

He was slightly nervous as he led you to his car and opened the passenger side for you. You occasionally looked at each other during the drive to his apartment but didn’t really talk with each other, perhaps both of you were too nervous?

One drink turned into two, and two into three. Both of you were slightly tipsy by now and were talking with each other as if nothing had ever happened. You sat next to each other on his couch, and he had one arm on the backrest, resting behind your head. Your legs were slightly bent in his direction. You noticed the way he looked down at them sometimes, and you wished he’d just grab them, but both of you knew that neither of you would dare to cross the line without completely knowing if the other one wanted it too. But you both wanted it deeply. The conversation died down between you a few minutes ago, you’ve just looked at each other. The air had already been thick before, but it was getting worse in that very moment. You found yourself looking down on his lips, and he did too. Both of you leaned into each other but stopped when you were only a few movements away from each other’s faces. Should you really give in to what you’ve wanted ever since you broke up all these months ago or not?

You felt his breath on your face and just wanted to give in, you wanted to feel his lips on yours so badly. You could swear you stopped breathing when he carefully brushed your hair out of your face and cupped your cheek, you leaned into his touch and held his gaze.

“Aemond…” You dared to break the silence with a shaky whisper. You craved his touch, as much as he craved yours. Your lips were parted as your gaze went down to his lips.

“Tell me to stop if you don’t want it,” he looked up from your lips into your eyes to find any hesitance, but he saw the way your pupils dilated as he held your gaze again. “I don’t want you to stop,” you whispered eagerly and hummed as he immediately captured your lips in a passionate and desperate kiss. Both of your tensed shoulders relaxed eventually,

His hand still cupped your cheek, stroking it with his thumb, your hand found his cheeks immediately and pulled him into you, while his other arm, which was resting on the backrest of his couch, wrapped around your waist to pull you into his lap. You straddled him and deepened the kiss as both of you opened your mouth to feel each other’s tongue, completely losing yourselves in the kiss. It’s what you’ve both been craving, and neither of you wanted to stop the moment. You didn’t want to think of the possible outcome or how it would change the current dynamic between you two, maybe you would find your way back to each other or it wouldn’t change a thing. Maybe it would just stay at making out with each other, but both of you wanted and needed more.

He missed to feel your skin against his, the way your curves felt when he traced them. The way you’d always react to his touch, arching your back whenever his hand found its way between your thighs. The way you always reacted to his kisses, whether it was a more heated or soft and slow kiss. You loved each of them, and so did he. Aemond loved the way your hands felt on his skin, the way you’d always end up tracing his arms, hands or face whenever you cuddled or were next to each other. He appreciated and missed these moments with you. It may only have been a few months since you two broke up, but the more intimate moments between you had been missing way before you eventually parted ways.

Both of you slowly pulled away from each other, faces still close as you spoke against his lips. “Are you sure we should be doing this?” You whispered, your voice slightly raspy from the lack of air in your lungs. Both of his hands had found their way to your hips and gently circled his fingers on your clothed skin, squeezing your skin.

He nodded. “I… I just need you, darling. I’m sure,” his voice was low and raspy as well. His good eye filled with desire as you looked at him and kissed him again. “Me too,” you whispered between kisses.

Aemond lifted you by gripping down on your thighs and placed you underneath him on the couch. He pulled away from you with a cheeky smile and kneeled in front of you as he pulled you on the edge of his couch. His hands roamed over your thighs to the button of your pants. Aemond looked up to you, slightly asking if he could continue. You nodded and didn’t break eye contact with him as he slowly opened the button of your pants and motioned for you to lift your hips so he could pull off your pants. His gaze never left yours, and he noticed the way you had your lower lip between your teeth as you lifted your hips eagerly, knowing what would follow. His fingers gently traced over your now exposed skin. His lips found the skin of your hip bone, which was still covered only seconds ago. His eye closed for a moment to capture this moment in his mind.

He pressed open kisses on your covered and uncovered skin, “I missed this so much,” he mumbled as he firmly but also gently gripped down your thighs while looking up at you again, silently asking if he could part your legs. You slightly sat up and parted them, causing him to smirk and move between them. His hands brushed over the flesh of your thighs and caressed them as he slowly moved them up to brush over your panties. Your breath hitched as he brushed over your still-clothed heat.

“Please, Aemond,” you whimpered as he teased your clothed clit with his finger while a smirk was on his lips. You hated how desperate you were for him, but you finally needed to feel him again. In every way you could have him. “Don’t tease me now.”

“Very well,” he hooked his fingers with the fabric of your panties on your hips and slowly pulled them down. You lifted your hips again, so it was easier for him to take your panties off.

A soft hum left his lips as soon as he tossed your panties away and saw your already glistening heat. He leaned down and pressed more kisses on the area of your heat, but not where you needed him. It frustrated you, and that made him chuckle. He always used to love to tease you, but he knew it wasn’t the perfect time for that right now, as it only tortured him as well. He couldn’t wait any longer and just wanted to get his mouth on you, his growing bulge in his pants could wait for a few moments. He wanted to give you the pleasure first. A moan left your lips as soon as he pressed his lips on your clit and made eye contact with you again. Aemond took a long drag through your slit with his tongue, your mouth stayed slightly open. He groaned into you as you grabbed one of his hands that were still on your thighs and held on to him as he devoured your cunt. He missed those pretty sounds that left your lips, especially how you tasted. For a short moment his mind went completely blank.

He started sucking on your clit and licked through your folds, causing you to tighten your grip on his hand, nails digging into his skin and your moans to get louder. He flicked his tongue in long and slower licks and changed the technique every so often to a faster and shorter pace. Completely devouring everything he could get from you. You didn’t even think about keeping it quiet, as it was overwhelming to feel his tongue on you. All the build-up tension over the past months is finally being relieved. Who would be better than him? No one.

You felt the all too well-known knot in your stomach, signalling that you were close to your climax. Aemond knew you were close as he noticed the way your panting increased, and your head fell back against the backrest of his couch. You cried out for more and wrapped one of your legs over his shoulder, which caused him to moan into you.

“Fuck– Aemond, I’m close! I…” Your grip on his hand tightened even more, if that was even possible, your back arched, and eyes closed as you focused on the building pleasure in your stomach.

“Don’t hold yourself back, darling. Come all over my face,” he panted against your cunt and got his mouth back on your swollen clit to sloppily circle his tongue around it, savouring each second while being between your thighs. Your mind turned blank as he continued to pleasure you, he still knew how to take care of you perfectly.

A strangled moan left your lips as you came on his tongue a few moments later, your legs slightly shaking as he fucked you with his tongue through your orgasm. Aemond could swear he almost lost his mind as he heard your moan and tasted you on his tongue, his hips humping into his couch. A soft chuckle left your lips as you exhaled and looked down at him. He was still kneeling between your legs, and his chin was glistening with your arousal and some of his spit. After you gained some strength again, you leaned forward and kissed him while your hands were on his cheeks, moaning as you tasted yourself.

“You did so well for me,” he praised you with a whisper as he pulled away from the kiss. “Can I take you to my bed or do you–“

“Please,” you nodded eagerly with a hushed voice, “Please do, Aemond.”

He gently picked you up, his hands digging into the skin of your thighs and placed open kisses on your exposed neck as he carried you into his bedroom, kicking the door as you were inside to close it behind him. He carefully placed you on his bed and hovered over you as he continued to kiss your neck and jaw. Your hands found the hem of his shirt and pulled on it, he moved his head away from your neck so you could pull off his shirt. You tossed it somewhere into his room, not caring about where it landed and traced his chest tenderly. He captured your lips in a kiss, his hips slightly buckling against you as you wrapped your legs around his hips to pull him closer to you. You took off the rest of your clothes from each other in a few motions, leaving both of you naked as you straddled his lap. His hands roamed over your thighs, caressing them as you leaned down to leave kisses on his chest while feeling his length underneath you.

He sharply inhaled as you wrapped one hand around his aching cock and stroked him a few times which already left him gripping down on your thighs, and he wasn’t even inside you yet. You smirked because of his reaction, you understood how he felt and eventually positioned his tip at your entrance and slowly sank down on his length, feeling how he stretched your walls. A low, needy moan escaped both of your lips, your hands on his chest, holding him down on his mattress, and his were holding you by your hips. You waited a few moments before you started to roll your hips, finding a pleasant rhythm for both of you. Aemond was completely at your mercy, it took him his entire strength not to come immediately. The sounds you made and how your hands roamed over his torso only added more levels to the pleasure he felt because of you. His body shivered, and his heartbeat increased. He felt you clenching around him and groaned with a hitched sound.

“Fuck you feel so good, darling,” he moaned. Your gazes met again, and you wished you could stay like this for eternity. His face was flushed, his back slightly arched, and his mouth agape as he didn’t hold back any sounds anymore.

This only reminded you of the beginning of your relationship, he barely voiced any hints of his pleasure and barely made any sounds whenever you slept with each other, but over the time, he let his walls down and started to be more vocal. This meant the time you were apart didn’t change that factor about him, and you loved it even more. You slightly leaned forward, feeling him deeper inside of you and grabbed his hands to intertwine your fingers, the slightly changed position adding more pleasure to both of you.

You continued to roll your hips and to hold eye contact with him, moaning his name repeatedly. After a while, you pulled him up against you, a soft gasp leaving your mouth as you captured his lips in a heated, passionate kiss, and he wrapped his arms around your waist. You wrapped your arms around his neck and stopped moving for a short moment, enjoying the close and intimate moment between you as you kissed each other. He lifted you from his cock in a quick movement, both of you whimpering at the loss of each other. He rolled on top of you and gently placed you underneath him, your legs on either side of his while he slowly slid into you again and captured your lips in a kiss again. A soft gasp left your lips, and he used the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth. He held him up with one arm while the other held you by your hip and thrust into you with a steady, slow pace. He swallowed your moans as he continued kissing you. You gripped on his biceps, leaving crescent marks in his skin and had your eyes shut.

He fastened his pace as he felt you clenching around him. “I can’t get enough of you, darling,” his voice hitched as his climax neared, “I don’t think I can go much longer.”

Skin slapping against each other, and moans filled the room. He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck and placed sloppy kisses on there as his hips snapped against yours. You knew he was getting close to his climax as his movements were getting sloppier. He tried to hold on, wanting to get you close for a second time the night, but it only left him whimpering against your lips as he kissed them.

“You can come inside me, Aemond,” you panted, your eyelids half-lidded as you met his gaze. “Are… Are you sure?” His breath hitched in his throat. He groaned after you nodded and lifted his head, so he could look at you as he thrusts into you once more before you felt his seed filling you up, his cock twitching inside of you.

He had a satisfied expression and moved one hand between your bodies, his thumb rubbing on your clit to get you over the edge as well while he continued to thrust into you. A cry left your mouth, and you pulled his face close to yours.

“Come for me, angel,” he exhaled.

You clenched around him, which caused him to whimper from feeling slightly overstimulated as you came shortly after him all over his cock, your legs shaking and moaning. He continued to pound into you in a slow pace to help you ride out your climax. Both of you tried to catch your breaths from the pleasure you both just felt after months of not feeling it both of you fucked out. With a low whimper, he slowly pulled out of you, and collapsed on top of you, your arms wrapped around him. Both of your bodies were covered in sweat and were heated up, your chests heaving. His face was in the crook of your neck, your fingers gently tracing his back, which caused him to get goosebumps. He occasionally placed soft kisses on your neck while he gently traced the sides of your body. After a while, he got up and helped you to get up, holding you as your legs slightly gave up for a short moment.

“Do you want me to help you clean up?” Aemond asked, a tender tone in his voice, but you shook your head. “You can wait in your bed for me,” you smiled at him affectionally, which he happily returned. He was happy that you would be staying over the night. He gave you his shirt so you could go to the toilet after he made sure you were able to stand. When you came back, he already laid in his bed and waited for you to join him. He pulled the blanket over you and him.

Neither of you said anything and just enjoyed the moment while it lasted, even if it meant you wouldn’t speak about it the next morning and act like you just didn’t have your best sex in a long while. Both of you wrapped your arms around each other as you slowly drifted off to sleep. You and I finally had a good sleep after months again, laying arm in arm felt right. And it was right, was it?

A soft hum left your lips as you slowly woke up the next morning, feeling completely comfortable but slightly sore. Your eyes immediately opened and widened as you realized where you were and what you did last night with Aemond. Your back was turned towards him with his arm loosely over your waist. You let out a quiet sigh and slowly wiggled yourself out of his grip, trying not to wake him up. After you successfully got out of his bed without waking him up, you noticed that you were wearing his shirt. As you picked up your shirt, you quietly left his bedroom and got dressed after you picked up your panties and pants that were in his living room. You put his shirt on the backrest of his couch as memories from last night flooded your mind. The pleasure you felt, god it was so fucking good. You missed him and how well he always treated you and exactly knew how to get you over the edge quickly, but what if he regretted it? You didn’t want to face him or the situation, you were afraid of what could happen when he would wake up.

You deeply inhaled and made your way to the door to put your shoes back on, took your handbag and were ready to leave without saying goodbye. But you sighed as you grabbed the door handle.

What if this night was a sign for both of you? What if that was the sign that you were ready to be with each other again?

You cursed yourself, took off your shoes again and left your handbag on the floor next to them. You were willing to see what could and would happen as soon as he would wake up. You decided to wait until he did, waiting on his couch. Saying you weren’t nervous would be a lie. While you waited, you paced his living room a few times, thinking about what you could possibly say to him.

You nervously waited almost an hour until you heard noises from his bedroom. He woke up with a low groan and stretched his body, the events from last night filling his mind immediately. He sighed as he opened his eyes, rubbed his good eye and noticed that the side you slept on was already empty. He immediately sat up, and his eye roamed the room, he noticed that your shirt wasn’t on the floor anymore. ‘They already left…’ He thought and groaned as he cursed himself for having possibly ruined the only chance to get back together with you. He wanted to make things right and give you the love you deserved, not like this immediately.

What if the events of last night chased you away from him even further? What if there was no chance left anymore with you?

You fiddled with your fingers and immediately looked up from them as you saw him walking out of his bedroom. He yawned and rubbed his good eye again. Maybe he hasn’t noticed you yet? But as soon as his eye focused on you, he stopped in his tracks. “I… I thought you had already left.”

“I… Well, I was about to leave but…” You stood up from his couch, “But I don’t think this would have been my best option.”

“Oh… I…” He slowly nodded, considering what to say, and walked into his kitchen, which was connected to his living room. You nervously fiddled with your fingers and followed his movements with your eyes but didn’t move the rest of your body. “I’m glad you didn’t leave,” he mumbled as he made himself a coffee, but you heard him, and a small smile formed on your lips.

“Do you want one as well?” He pointed to his coffee mug, but you shook your head and thanked him for the offer. He poured the coffee into his mug after it was done brewing and then walked up to you.

Both of you sat down next to each other, but there was a tiny distance between you. Neither of you said anything for a moment until he broke the tense silence between you. “Do you… Want to talk about last night?” He spoke softly, the nervousness in his voice was noticeable.

You nodded and turned your gaze in his direction, turning your body towards him, “I think we should.” Aemond inhaled and nodded as well, unsure what to say for a moment before he continued. “Do you regret it?”

“No,” you paused for a moment, “Not at all.” His shoulders relaxed immediately, “Neither do I.”

“Can I be honest with you?” You asked, a hint of nervousness in your voice again. After he nodded, you continued, “I… Uhm… I miss you. I miss us. I know we decided to part ways because of all the things that were going on back then but… I never stopped thinking about you or the time we shared. And last night… Maybe it was a sign? And maybe it was what we needed to realize that we’re ready to be with each other again.”

Aemond didn’t respond immediately, he was quite stunned, but he felt the same and agreed with you completely. He noticed how you continued to fiddle with your fingers and put down his coffee mug to gently lean to you and grab your hands to distract you. The contact calmed you down a little bit. You looked down at your hands as he brushed over the top of your hands with his thumbs. He still knew what calms you down, and you appreciated it a lot.

“I feel the same, darling,” he whispered softly, “I tried to move on, but it was impossible. There was always something missing in my life without you. I couldn’t stop looking at you whenever we hung out with our friends, and I…” He paused, “I still love you. I never stopped loving you, and when I woke up and thought you had already left, I was angry with myself for possibly having ruined any chances with you. You’re… You’re simply the best thing that has happened to me, and I don’t want to lose you entirely.”

You squeezed his hand and looked at him, “Nothing is ruined. I… I never stopped loving you either, Aemond.” You loved him, you always have. Many nights, you’ve found yourself thinking about the rest of your life with him together. How you’d grow old with him, maybe living somewhere peaceful. Together. Maybe you’d have a dog or more than one? Maybe a cat? Or any other animals you could take care of together. Both of you even had thought about adopting a dog or cat together when you were still together. You two already had different name ideas, one of them being Vhagar.

He smiled and scooted closer to you to lean his forehead against yours while he still held your hands tightly and gently. Maybe you were able to have a chance again. “Do you want to give us… Maybe another chance? I… I can’t continue living like this anymore. Every night, I think about you before I fall asleep, and you’re the first thought in the morning when I wake up. Wishing you were in my arms like you always used to. I just… Miss it,” he admitted quietly. His vulnerability was noticeable.

“I’d like to try again,” you smiled while tears built up in your eyes, completely out of happiness. You’ve been hoping for this moment for so long, and now you were sitting here together. Where it all started first because the first kiss you had with him before you were a couple happened in this apartment, on his couch in the same place you sat on currently.

Both of you smiled and fondly looked at one another before you eventually finally leaned in and captured his lips in a slow and tender kiss. He continued to brush his thumb over your hand and hummed into the kiss with a smile. He was truly happy. He pulled you into a hug after you pulled away from each other, stroking your head as he put his on top of yours. You closed your eyes and wrapped your arms around his waist. It was everything you needed, and maybe the break between you was needed to find each other again with a better mindset.

“I missed this,” you whispered after a while. “I missed this too. I missed you,” he admitted and kissed the top of your head. You finally had him back, he was your safe space, and you were his. And you both won’t let the other one go again. No matter what, you’d be able to get through everything together.

268 notes · View notes

pendarling · 3 days

Text

Curly & Dark

Hero lightly brushed their fingers against the tight curls and looked at their reflection.

"Oh, didn't you know? Villain likes looser and longer hair so..."

They were in shambles, and they hated to admit it. They didn't like their enemy, no, only offended that anyone could assume that at all. Especially their friend; why did they say that? Nothing was wrong with their curls, at least nothing they could think of. Who cares if Villain likes lighter skin and eyes?

That had nothing to do with them, and who told their friend what Villain preferred? They could be lying. Villain always lied.

Not to them, of course, or at least Hero hoped so. Villain was very careful with their words when they whispered sweet poems in their ear when they got too close for comfort in their hand-to-hand combats. Villain's eyes didn't lie when they stared longingly back at Hero; their body gave away their feelings. Hero knew it all too well and was confident that Villain couldn't care less about their dumb curls or their skin.

It didn't matter. It shouldn't matter. It's a stupid claim, but it still hurts.

Hero's breathing quickened as they frowned deeply at themselves through the mirror with fingers caught up in the strands of hair and oh...

Hero thought, 'What a strange appearance. None of my peers look the way I do.' They huffed and walked slowly out of the bathroom, 'That should be a good thing. I stand out.'

It didn't feel good, however. Their head replayed the scene from earlier again.

Hero stood in front of their friend, and their friend smiled at them when they said it, trying to let them know kindly of the situation. They cared and didn't want Hero's heart to be broken when it would be revealed that Villain was just bullying them afterall.

"They have bad intentions; we all know Villain doesn't like curly hair, so it doesn't make sense... you're suit... yeah, that's probably why they said all that. If you wore something else, it would've been different."

Hero's suit now lay on their bed; they've worn it for years and never thought it played a part in their world. Was it too revealing? Inappropriate? Hero liked it; it was created to accommodate Hero's powers. They didn't think of it as anything else, but assuming it was attracting the wrong kind of attention, Hero was willing to wear something new.

They couldn't stop thinking all night after earlier. The next time they saw Villain, they should start ignoring them. Whatever Villain was up to was too cruel. If they hated someone that looked like them, then they should stop interacting completely.

At least that's what they told themselves to do, but still, Hero found themselves taking up another job that would require them to see Villain again.

They sat waiting on the ledge of their usual meeting spot on the roof of a building far from home. Any second now, they'd hear Villain's voice call their name with a ring in it that made their heart skip.

"There you are."

Hero sat up straighter and turned around. "Hi." Hero shyly spoke. It was less confident than they anticipated. Their hands immediately went to touch their hair again; the messy thing always got in the way, and they had taken the time to flat-iron it that morning before showing up. They couldn't remember the last time they straightened their hair; it's been a while, and they accidentally burned their ear with the hot rod in their haste to get it done as quickly as possible as if the curls were a disease.

"You look different," Villain noted, widely smiling as they set their gaze on them.

They swallowed their nervousness and stood up. "Uhm.. yeah, thought I could use a change."

"Looks good."

Hero wanted to ask if it was true. Still, something forced their tongue down even when silence fell into their conversation, where they'd usually idly chat for a good few more minutes before getting into their usual spar.

Villain's hand reached for their belt and pulled out the hilt of their sword. "May I have this dance?" They stepped closer and aimed at them, waiting for a response.

"Try to keep up this time." Hero's hand glowed a shallow colour, just enough to get them riled up.

They fought bravely as usual, each blow heavier than the last, quicker and matching Villain's attacks.

Their smile persisted throughout the entire duration. Hero dodged Villain's sword and slashed at the air with a sharp flick of their wrist. A thin line of energy burst from their hands, and the Villain deflected it with their sword.

Hero took another step back, catching the blade with their hand and twisting it away from their body, unaware that they'd run out of places to move as they felt their back pressed against a wall.

"So quick to lose," Villain smirked as they panted hard from their chest and out. Hero could feel their body buzzing with excitement; although some doubts still lingered, it was all irrelevant at this moment. "Or did you want me to corner you like this?"

"Don't get ahead of yourself." Hero breathed heavily, all too happy for their liking. They could feel the heat on their face, hotter than it was supposed to be after hardly fighting.

When Villain stepped closer, Hero felt their smile falter a bit. An unreasonable fear consumed their head as they repressed the feeling of touching their hair again. "Ever wonder," Villain began, "What it would be like outside the mask?" Their head tilted slightly with that same crooked smile they'd grown so used to.

"No..." Hero whispered, "There's nothing interesting."

Villain laughed lightly, "Not even yourself?" They leaned down closer, their fingers tapping at the hilt of their sword while Hero's sweating palms rubbed the rough brick behind them, memorizing every crevice.

"Not even myself." Their eyes flickered downward, then back up again, "And you?"

"I have lots to offer." They casually answered.

Hero rolled their eyes, "Sure you do."

They heard them huff and mock a shocked expression. "You're questioning me?" Villain placed a hand on their chest. "I have what you could only dream of-- what you couldn't comprehend."

"Like what?" Hero pressed.

The criminal shrugged and crossed their arms, "Nice try, but I'm selective about who I choose to tell."

'Selective.' Hero reiterated in their head and licked their lips; the feeling that tormented them the other night returned. Itching up their throat and successfully stopping Hero from pursuing the conversation any further.

"You're awfully quiet," Villain remarked and moved back from them slowly, their eyes analyzing the way Hero stood almost slumped up against the wall. "Usually, you're so much more hot-headed."

"You like hot-headed?" Hero quickly snapped. It came out more disgruntled than they wanted. Hero didn't know what overcame them; what was supposed to be a good sensation had burned into a simmering hatred for this strange relationship they had. Hero took a deep breath, their brows furrowed as they stared at their shoes and tried to stop themselves before it was too late.

"Relax." Villain's voice cut through their head. "I just wanted you to know that you're acting out of character."

Hero didn't even bother this time and felt their hands grasping at the air before they could understand. Each fist went flying at Villain, aiming to hit as hard as possible.

Villain played defence, avoiding each one of their punches with swift movements and slight turns. "What's the matter, Hero? I think you've gotten--"

"Shut up!" Their first, burning a bright array of white and yellow, shoved into the metal frame of a nearby door; the ground cracked beneath them upon impact, and Villain stumbled as they went behind Hero with that same obnoxious laughter.

Villain's brows raised, impressed as they whistled at the scene, "Careful, that could break your hand."

"I said stop talking to me!" Hero went to hit them again, throwing enough of their energy to tear Villain's sword away from their hands when they went to deflect again.

Hero never got Villain's weapon away from them before. It surprised them how much they could do, and the surprise made them nearly trip if Villain hadn't caught them just in time. Their powers faded slowly as Hero's emotions dropped back down again. Something about being held so closely has thrown them out of focus.

"I said be careful didn't I?" They softly uttered. Hero's heartbeat fell back into its strange rhythm as usual, a different kind of beat that played a romantic song in their head and repeated itself for weeks. It was then that they grew keenly aware where Villain's hand were placed, so neatly on each side of their waist and so gentle with them. Hero's eyes blinked with confusion until they buried their head into Villain's chest.

"Sorry." They muffled the apology, still holding tears back.

"It's okay." Villain's hands grasped at their suit, slightly tugging at its edges.

They shook their head, "No, it's not." Their lips trembled, and a few drops of tears escaped them as their mind muddled in the confusion of being torn between truth and agonizing desperation. They couldn't stop themselves from saying what they hoped they could hide, "Do you like curly?" Hero heard themselves whisper, wishing they had more control over what they said when Villain didn't respond right away.

Villain's fingers paused. "What? Your hair?"

Hero could only nod, too afraid that the next time they spoke, they would start sobbing uncontrollably.

"I like curly." They murmured. "I like curly... and I like dark." Villain moved one hand to their back, rotating up and down. "Is that what's bothering you?"

Hero sniffled, feeling silly more than ever. "It isn't just teasing then." They said, more to themselves than to their enemy. They smiled under them, their knuckles still stung from the last hit, but that was behind Hero now.

They briefly stood in silence until Villain questioned them again. "Who told you I didn't like it?"

Hero cleared their throat. "A friend."

"Friend?" They stretched the word, sounding more startled as Villain worked through a list of names they'd seen Hero with before. "Which one?"

"The one with blond hair." They answered slowly.

"Hero." They called.

They lifted their head, eyes still foggy. "Yeah?"

"Do me a favour," Villain's thumb came to wipe their tear, "and don't listen to them."

~~~

MASTERLIST

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#pining prompts #villain x hero #hero x villain #heroxvillain #villainxhero #hero x villain community

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shootingstarwritings · 2 days

Text

A Single Kiss with Matching Singlets

part 2/2

Coach Reynolds was an older man and head of the wrestling team. Standing tall and clearly proud of the team he had led to victory year after year, he intimidated most of the other coaches throughout the state. He was stern and assertive on the wrestling mat, yet patient and forthcoming in his office. Many former members of the wrestling team described him as having an ‘uncle-like’ air. Not quite immediate family, but trustworthy nonetheless. At least, that’s what Kyle gathered about the man.

Appearance-wise, he was an older, bearded, and hairy man with years of experience. He was the former champion during his days in university, and he reminded the team of that at the start of every new semester. Though the coach had grown a slight gut as he aged, not a soul doubted the muscles one could gain only through years of dutiful devotion to the sport. Perhaps he wore such tight shirts and jackets to accent the body he was so prideful of.

“It’s rare to see you so talkative,” the coach said, not looking up from the documents he was filling out. He sat by his deck with a pair of rarely-seen reading glasses.

All I said was, “Can we meet in your office after practice? I wish to talk about something personal.” Just how little does Zack even speak?’ The more time spent in Zack’s body, the less Kyle understood about him.

“So,” began Coach Reynolds. He removed his glasses with a swift and practiced flick of his wrist and set them down on the table. Smiling with the warmth that someone who was a father to his students, he asked, “What can I help you with? Come to think of it, this is probably the first time you wanted to talk to me like this. What brought this on?”

“Well, um…” How was he supposed to react? It wasn’t easy, staring at the man who was essentially his romantic rival. At first, Kyle went through a barrage of excuses to distract the coach, but he found it difficult to come up with a lie as he stared at the coach’s genuine and questioning eyes. How Kyle wished that the coach had Namba’s shaggy hair to cut off the eye-contact.

Lowering his gaze, Kyle’s eyes locked onto the golden band that Coach Reynolds always wore proudly wore to work. Kyle knew the story. They had split a few years ago, but Coach Reynolds still wore that wedding ring. Whether it was loyalty or denial, he wasn't certain. “I wish to talk… a-about love.”

Chuckling, Coach Reynolds relaxed and shifted back into his seat. “Love, huh?” he said with a playful smirk. Kyle could tell that the coach had been waiting for someone to ask him about that. “Well, this ol’ dog could certainly teach ya some new tricks. Have a seat, let’s hear you out.”

“There’s someone I love, but they clearly love someone else…” Kyle began like that, and then continued. On occasion, he would accidentally slip and say, “he,” while speaking, but aside from a curious eyebrow raise, the coach didn’t interrupt. Was it another of Zack’s quirks that influenced Kyle, or was Kyle simply waiting for someone with coach’s demeanor to influence him? Whatever it was, it certainly seemed to help get his mouth moving and his lips flapping.

Still, Kyle felt himself able to speak freely. Calmly. Not only that, but he felt… heard. Namba would sometimes tease or cut in to talk about his own opinion, but coach’s gentle prodding and listening was far more effective. “And… and that is all,” finished Kyle.

“Well, that’s certainly the intense revelation you gave, Zack,” the coach said, each word carefully measured. “But! That doesn’t mean I don’t have any advice to give you. Don’t worry, I’ve got just the thing for you.” He stood up and wandered over to his desk, giving a great view of his ass hugged by those gray sweatpants he always loved to wear.

Kyle definitely preferred Zack, but he couldn’t deny just how hot the coach was. He had seen the man sweating it out in the gym when he wasn’t coaching the players—and he loved seeing the coach drench his clothes with sweat. Kyle couldn’t help but wonder how the coach smelled. As Coach Reynolds stood up and walked over to his file cabinet—just what was he searching for?—Kyle silently stood up and made his move.

“Sorry, coach,” said Kyle with Zack’s voice as he wrapped both muscular arms around the coach’s meaty frame. As Coach Reynolds began to panic, Kyle leaned into his ear and whispered, “I do think you’re a great man, for all that’s worth,” and made his move. Exiting through Zack’s trembling torso, Kyle forced his spiritual essence to phase through the coach’s back and into his core.

Like a puppet cut from its strings, Zack fell on the ground, unconscious after over a day of not being in control.

Coach Reynolds, on the other hand, remained standing and trembling as he felt a student’s essence overpowering his own. “N-No, get outta… nrgh…! Outta me!” Coach Reynolds reached out for the door, but his legs were already under Kyle’s control. Then, his own arms betrayed him as they gracefully shed off his sweatpants, shaking his hips the whole time. “The fuck…?” was all he managed to say as his cock, bulging beneath his used jockstrap, flew at high mast and began to leak precum. His bare ass shivered as a breeze blew through the office.

Coach Reynolds struggled and moaned as he tried to reclaim control over his body, but it was too late as Kyle grabbed his shirt and windbreaker and tossed them off. Clad in just a leaky jockstrap, Kyle explored the coach’s wonderful body in the privacy of his new office. Zack continued to sleep, even as Kyle let out a roar of pure ecstasy and blew his first load all over the office, some drops even landing on Zack’s open and drooling mouth.

“I can see why you think this hunky piece of ass is your ideal man,” Kyle said, smirking as he flexed and kissed Coach Reynold’s bulging biceps. “I’ll have a bit of fun with him before asking you out on our little date.”

~o~

Sitting down on the booth of a burger joint, Tim scrolled mindlessly through a phone that wasn’t his until the burly Coach Reynolds sat down in front of him. “Ah, if it isn’t my favorite coach,” he said, putting his phone down and resting his chin on his hand, smirking. “How’s the body feeling?” He took a quick whiff and chuckled. “Already beat one out or two?”

Kyle’s eyes widened. “How did you now? You got some kinda bloodhound nose or something?”

“Nah, but Tim’s got a sharp sense of smell. Probably cuz he doesn’t wanna get glasses.” Namba shrugged. “Already ordered for ya, by the way. Asked for the, urgh, the bacon triple burger," Namba's borrowed nose wrinkled as he said that.

“Oh, thank god. Dunno why, but Coach Reynolds’ body is constantly craving meat. Was about to go insane with hunger once I was done with a quick workout and jerk-off session. I haven’t had a single fruit or veggie all day. Not even a snack. Just craving meat, meat, meat.”

Namba chuckled. “A strong soul like the coach’s will naturally force more of his personality onto you.” Grinning lewdly, Namba lifted up his shirt and rubbed Tim’s toned and distinctly hairier core. “You have to tame these hosts we’re using. Usually, you gotta force them to submit, my friend.”

“Submit?” Kyle tilted his head. He had thought that jerking off was enough to wrangle coach’s soul. At the very least, shouldn’t the possession itself be enough to force someone’s soul to submit?

When Kyle asked that, Namba wagged his finger, letting Tim’s shirt fall and regaining some semblance of modesty. “No, no. This is why you’re to remain a novice without someone like me to teach you the ropes, kiddo.”

“Don’t call me that when I’m in this body,” said Kyle, lowering his voice. “People’ll give us weird looks.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. I put up a few precautions before you arrived.” As if to illustrated his point, Namba climbed up the table and lied on top of it before peeling off Tim’s cargo shorts and throwing off the shirt in just a few quick motions.

Kyle looked around, but nobody came to protest. Not even any of the staff. In fact, looking over at the staff on the counter, none of them were moving. Not even blinking. “What…?”

“Time bubble. Advanced stuff,” said Namba in between moans as he started to touch and pleasure himself. Tim’s boxers-briefs were still on, but didn’t seem to care. He still caressed and licked every bit of Tim’s body he could reach, occasionally rubbing the cock beneath the fabric as a dark spot began to form. “In public places like these are a great way to tame unruly hosts, y’know. How about we make sure that our host bodies enjoy the remainder of our three days?”

Kyle stared at the scene before him, hunger temporarily forgotten. Already, he could feel the testosterone in Coach Reynolds’ body working overtime as he beheld Tim’s naked and tempting body. “I-I… sure. Sure, let’s do it.”

“Well?” Namba spread Tim’s legs, his feet hanging off the booth’s table. “What’re you gonna do to me, coach?” he asked with a playful sincerity. “I thought we were just gonna eat together?”

“Oh, I’m about to devour the snack before me, all right,” said Kyle as he stripped himself, having already had plenty of practice with it. Coach Reynolds’ used jockstrap was the last thing he took off, and he twirled it on his fingers and a few times while playfully slapping Tim’s hole with his erect cock.

“O-Oh, now that’s a keeper…” said Namba, his expression, while still smug, growing a bit concerned. “A-Are you sure that’s gonna fit inside of me, my friend? T-Tim’s not exactly used to stuff up his ass.”

Kyle leaned in, chest resting against Tim’s own, and he said, “I’ll stretch it out real nice for ya, kid. Once I’m through with ya, you’ll be able to fit a whole cucumber inside.”

A tiny dribble of precum launched from Tim’s cock and landed on his stomach. Namba gulped and said, “Go for it.”

Kyle went was slow at first, just to make sure Coach Reynolds’ cock didn’t hurt too badly. Whenever Namba would groan in pain, Kyle would caress his cheek or give him a calming kiss as he pounded Namba’s ass.

“Ngh…! Oh, f-fuck…!” said Namba, writhing in Tim’s body as Kyle thrust in and out Tim’s tight ass. The table creaked and moaned from the sheer force that Kyle was using in the coach’s body. “F-Fuck me harder, c-c’mon!” Namba shouted, his eyes fluttering from the sheer pleasure and strength Coach Reynolds used. “We-We’re really doing this in public? Ohhh, you’re such a pervert, coach! Wh-What if someone walks in?”

Kyle forced the coach’s body to grin. “What’s wrong, Tim? ‘fraid that someone’s gonna see how much of a slut you are?” he said, punctuating ‘slut’ with a particularly deep thrust. Another strong shot of precum launched out of Tim’s cock. Namba reached down to jerk himself off, but Kyle slapped his hand away. “Oh don’t worry, boy. I’ll make ya cum hands-free!”

He lifted up both of Tim’s legs and slung them over his shoulders. With every thrust, he would pull him by the ankles to get just a tiny bit more leverage. Namba seemed to be enjoying it, as his hands gripped the sides of the trembling table until his knuckles were white.

Inside, however, was a different story. “N-No, not in public,” the voice of Coach Reynolds said inside of him. Kyle nearly stopped, but he was far too horny and far too deep inside of his new fucktoy. “G-Get out of me. This is my body!” There was a bit of pressure from inside of Coach Reynolds’ body, but Kyle didn’t mind.

“You’re mine,” Kyle found himself saying, flexing on his arms and enjoy the rippling muscles as he posed and increased the speed of his thrusts into Namba, who looked like he was about to fall unconscious. “This is my fucking body, and there’s nothing anyone can do about it! I’m a fucking stud of a man that does nothing but breed young men, and that’s the truth of it! This is who I am!”

“Yes, coach! It’s who you are!” Namba joined in, staring up in the ceiling as his mind continued to experience unbelievable pleasure. “Ohhh, breed me! Breed this hairy hole I got just for you.”

“I’m gonna breed ya and mark ya. Fuck, fuck…! I’m, I’m gonna—WOAAAAHH!” Kyle let out a cry as his climax reached its peak, and he blew his load and coated all of Tim’s inside with the coach’s thick cum.

“Holy fuck, coach!” Namba cried out as his own cock, still untouched, shot its own load. Most landed on his borrowed chest, but a few shot far enough to land on his face.

Coach Reynolds’ voice became softer and more quiet as Kyle continued to dominate his body. “I-I’m… This is your body. Use it as you like...” Coach Reynolds’ voice said before finally becoming silent.

So… I tamed him. But what does that even mean? And, is it bad that I want more? thought Kyle.

“Mm… tasty,” said Namba, knocking Kyle out of his thoughts. He reached down and scooped up some of the cum with a finger and licked it. “Tim never gets any less tasty. Though I think it’s my essence making him so delicious.” Chuckling, he lied back, head resting on his hands and hole overflowing with cum. “Drink up this sight, my friend. This is what we get with magic. See how rewarding this is?”

Kyle nodded, thoroughly exhausted. He sat down on one of the booth seats, rubbing his sore thighs. “That was… amazing!”

“Amazing and so much more, my friend,” said Namba. “So, what will you do now? Visit Michael or…?”

Nodding, Kyle said, “Yeah, that was the plan. But, honestly…” he hesitate before finally saying, “I was thinking… what if I stayed in coach’s body? What if I made this permanent?” It had only been a day and a few sexual experiences, but the urge to never leave was slowly becoming more and more attractive to Kyle. “Is that even possible?”

Namba cocked an eyebrow, his smile disappearing. “Yeah, but… you sure this is the body you want? Don’t get me wrong, it’s not a bad body and all, but this is a big decision. And…” he let out a thoughtful hum, tapping his fingers on the table. “I can make it for sure, but not yet. Probably not until the semester’s mostly over. Until then,” he grinned and ruffled Coach Reynolds’ short hair, “I’ll keep cooking up some of that concoction for the two of us. Build that little relationship with Michael while I research for a way to make this sorta thing permanent. And, prepare yourself. You’ll be leaving your life behind.”

“And you? Are you gonna take over someone permanently? Like Tim?”

Namba shook his head. “I wanna take over someone hot and rich. Tim’s just a nice ride to chill out in for a few days.” He flexed Tim’s much lither body and ran his hands down his torso. “In the meantime, we gotta finish up our lease and this semester, my friend.” Namba looked down at his watch. “You got one more day until my next concoction, what’ll you do?”

Now it was Kyle’s turn to grin. “Whaddaya think? I’m gonna win over my new love."

~o~

Walking around in Coach Reynolds’ body felt like a reward of its own, so Kyle elected to do that to head back to his office. Zack was long-gone, believing he had just passed out while coach asked him to stay behind for a brief talk. With the office clear and most classes done for the day, Kyle sent an email to Michael asking him to meet up to discuss the team’s future as well as discussion regarding the next captain.

As he walked back, Kyle thought back to what Namba had explained. Their hosts wouldn’t remember exactly what happened while being possessed, but their experiences would leave little marks on their souls. It wouldn’t be anything significant without repeated possessions and behavior adjustments, but it had its merit. “It’ll make it a lot easier for us to take them over. Though I’ll probably hop inside someone else,” Namba had told him. “But you can even influence their behavior even while you’re not inside.”

I could probably get coach to keep seducing Michael while I’m not inside of him, thought Kyle, a spring in the coach’s step. Then, once I take over coach forever, I’ll already be in a relationship with Kyle. It seemed so perfect that Kyle had little belief it would ever fail. With that, he soon arrived.

Michael was seated on a bench right outside the office, but brightened up once he noticed Kyle approaching. “Oh, hey coach!” he greeted with a radiant smile that Kyle knew would soon enough be reserved only for him. “Dunno how of much my experience is gonna mean much, but I’m more than happy to help out!”

With a hearty, almost fatherly, chuckle, Kyle patted Michael on the back and assured him that, “You’re far more helpful and valuable than you think, Michael.” Slowly, he allowed his hand to slide just a bit further down before pulling back. “C’mon, we’ve got a lot to talk about.” The rest of the visit was full of small touches and mild flirting and winks. Michael would flush at most of Kyle’s light advances, but didn’t shy away from it.

Throughout the next few weeks, Kyle would use the coach’s body to tease, caress, and flirt with Michael, who subtly invited them in. Towards the end of the semester, during the final of their little meetings, Michael said, “Are you flirting with me, coach…?” There was a longing tone in his voice as he looked up at Coach Reynolds’. He was hesitant, nervous, embarrassed, and hopeful.

Just how long had Kyle waited for Michael to see him like that? He wasn’t sure, but he knew that, at least, that time was at an end. With Coach Reynolds’ thick fingers, he gently guided Michael’s chin for a passionate, sensual kiss. Kyle’s borrowed tongue guided Michael’s more inexperienced one, and the two soon collapsed into a pile of tangled limbs. “I’ve waited so long for this day,” said Michael, unknowingly voicing both of their thoughts.

~o~

The day arrived. Namba served two bowls with a concoction that somehow smelled like lilacs this time. After agreeing to keep in touch, the two went their separate ways—towards their new lives. Namba went to his rich uncle’s company while Kyle paid one last visit to Coach Reynolds’ office.

Brimming with confidence, he knocked on the door and shouted, “Coach, daddy’s home!” without a hint of shame. So much had happened this semester, and now he was ready to finally embrace the future as someone new.

Coach Reynolds opened the door with dread on his face. “G-Get away from me,” he managed to utter, even as he allowed Kyle to strut inside. He shut the door and began to strip his clothes. It made the possession much easier. “H-How are you doing this…? What is happening to me?” Just speaking with his own will seemed to be a challenge for him, let alone resisting the power of Namba’s concoction.

Kyle walked over and planted a kiss on the coach’s neck. “This is your destiny, coach. This is how your story ends,” he said, placing two of his hands on both of coach’s pecs. His hands began sinking into his body as though Coach Reynolds was nothing but a pool of water. He let out a low groan, trembling. “And this is how our story begins.”

Pushing Coach Reynolds against the wall, Kyle slowly forced his way inside of his future and permanent body. “N-No! Get outta me, kid! D-Don’t do this!” Coach Reynolds clutched his head with both hands, almost ripping off his hair as he felt Kyle’s consciousness and memories swallowing his own. It was as if he was being consumed from the inside out. “You’re g-gonna kill me… I’m disappearing… N-No, please stop…!”

“You won’t die,” said Kyle. By now, most of his body was inside of the coach. All that was left was the top part of his torso and his head that awkwardly hung from coach's burly chest. “We’re becoming one, coach. Isn’t it great? You can feel it, right? How pleasurable this is for us? For me?”

Coach Reynolds grit his teeth, but soon his arms fell limp by his sides. “Y-Yes… this is hot for me,” he admitted, both ashamed and aroused as Kyle’s essence began to bind with his own. As two souls became one, Coach Reynolds became convinced that he was Kyle, that he was another half that was returning home and becoming whole. “Keep it up,” he moaned, thrusting in the air as Kyle fully dove into his body. “Ahhh! Oh, fuck! Oh fuck, oh fuck!”

Coach Reynolds slid down the wall and fell to his knees, his whole body trembling as a merging of souls occurred inside. Memories of pleasure, pain, madness, and ecstasy all blended together into a cocktail of euphoria until, “HOLY FUCK!” The new Coach Reynolds let out a guttural roar of pleasure as he achieved the most intense orgasm of his life—and the very first of his new life. Streams of cock shot high into the air. One, two, more and more until he lost count. He came his entire load until he was shooting blanks, hips still thrusting into the empty air until he just collapsed on his side, entire body alight with a pleasurable soreness.

There was no need to explore his new body, Coach Reynolds was already accustomed to it after half a semester of taking it over. He just stood up on shaky legs and stretched. Kyle was gone, but he wasn’t at the same time. A new being was born, but he still carried the name Coach Reynolds. The old coach wasn’t gone, either, but it was mainly the one who used to be Kyle in control. The new Coach Reynolds put his clothes back on and checked his phone.

One message from Michael, asking the coach when their first official date would be. Coach Reynolds smiled and gleefully began his brand new relationship to celebrate his brand new life.

#male possession #male body possession #a single kiss with matching singlets #I'll keep going with BoD I just realized I hadn't finished this #more content coming soon #gay male possession #coach possession #bear possession

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bella-goths-wife · 11 hours

Note

HERE ME OUTTT…

Platonic yandere bowers gang.

The reader is a freshman, shes just a clueless 14 year old who needs someone to guide her, why not that be the bowers gang?

Platonic yandere bowers gang x freshman reader

You weren’t particularly bad kid

Sure, you mouthed off to teachers and smoked behind the bleachers on rough days

But you also kept up with your studies and got pretty good grades

So you weren’t a bad kid, certainly not bad enough to avoid snide comments or harassment

Certainly not bad enough to catch the eyes of anyone important, or at least you thought anyway

You had met belch first

After a particularly cruel day caused by your classmates constant teasing and bullying, you had decided to hide out behind the bleachers for a quick smoke and to reevaluate your life choices

But instead of the usual quietness, you heard frustrated mumblings and the sounds of crunched up papers

You peaked your head around and saw an extremely frustrated belch sat on the ground with papers scrunched up in his hands as he attempted to solve whatever was on the paper

You had planned to just turn around and pretend you saw nothing, but fate had another plan for you as belch coincidentally looked to his left and made eye contact with you

Belch stiffened and began to plan out how to best beat you into forgetting what you saw, but before he could even rise up from the ground you spoke

“Do you want some help?” You had asked quite calmly considering the situation, and belch had noticed there was not one smidge of mockery or pity in your tone

He would have almost called your tone kind if it weren’t for your monotone delivery

Belch was stunned into a paralysed state as you calmly sat yourself next to him and read over the math problems he had been attempting

Half an hour later you had helped him complete the sheet, practically finishing it all by yourself at that point

Belch was about to threaten you into silence but you just stood up and walked away, not intimidated by him in the slightest

You, a lowly freshman, was not intimidated by him, one of the biggest and scariest people in school

Belch was so taken aback that he immediately reported his findings to Henry, who let a plot grow in his head

While the bowers gang had a few very intelligent members, they were all failing extraordinarily

All of their grades were written with a ‘do better’ message and delivered with a sigh from their teachers

So an idea popped into Henry’s head

Why should they do all of their work when they can just get someone else to do it for them

And now he knows about this genius freshman from belch, well it was almost fate in Henry’s eyes

He rounded up the boys and stalked you throughout your day at school to find a chance to corner you

They watched as you sat through your first lessons with a bored expression and they also watched as you completed the class work in less than ten minutes before just staring out the window for the rest of the time

They watched as you got relentlessly picked on by your peers and they watched as you finally grew tired enough of it to get up and leave the classroom, deciding to just skip considering you already knew what was being taught

They couldn’t help but he slightly fascinated with how you carried yourself

You were a genius, that was very much clear

But you almost seemed like you were reluctant with your intelligence, like the mere fact that you existed bored and exhausted you

Henry in his own brand of narcissism, couldn’t help but think he was the same

He was not, he was intelligent but he could never fully match up to you

But he projected the idea that you were exactly like him, that you two were two peas in a pod

Two geniuses surrounded by idiots

He finally thought he had found an equal

It was then that he decided that instead of just intimidating you into doing what they wanted, he’d make you a deal

And that’s what he did as he and his boys cornered you behind the bleachers

He made you an offer, you complete all their work and get them good grades and they’d allow you to sit with them at lunch and would keep your tormentors away

You were reluctant to accept this offer considering you understood that the boys in front of you were not good people and it was likely you wouldn’t be treated well during this agreement but you were just so tired of being picked on that you agreed anyway

So the deal was made and from that day forward you’d sit with them at lunch and would complete their work for them during the periods that you skipped, most of the time one of them joined you

Most of the group didn’t understand why Henry had extended this offer to you in the first place, didn’t understand his weird fascination with you

They all began to understand individually with time

Patrick began his obsession when he realised that he could make being in your presence a game

Patrick is a sociopath, there’s no sugar coating it because it’s just the truth

And Patrick loves to torment, he likes to manipulative and he likes to cause pain to his chosen target

And it’s only after a few times he tries to target you that he realises that you don’t succumb as easily as other people

Any words he spewed, any plots he cooked up and any sickly sweet manipulative tactics he tried to use, you would most of the time simply see through it

This made whenever Patrick finally did break you down all the more satisfying

It became a somewhat game of cat and mouse to him as he attempted to find the best ways to hurt you

But Patrick also quickly noticed he despises when someone other than him and the others tried the same methods to hurt you, that’s why he scared off all of your tormentors and bullies

He wants to be your biggest and only bully

And he wants the satisfaction of finally overcoming your intelligence and breaking you more than anything

Victor was the next one to become obsessed with you

Victor was the verbal punching bag of the group, or he thought he was considering how he denies ever acknowledging his cruelty towards belch

But with you, he finally had someone who was below him

In his eyes no matter how smart you were, your still younger than him and you clearly need guidance in how to survive in highschool

He could sweetly (meanly and roughly) condescend you and you couldn’t do a damn thing about it because you were the bottom of the food chain

You validated his want to be needed, to know better and be better than someone

He purposely ignores the fact that intelligence wise and probably in most ways your better than him

He doesn’t care as long as he can keep treating you like a clueless little lamb who wandered into the den of wolves

Belch was quickly taken with you considering he always struggled with his intelligence and you had helped him that afternoon in a calmer manner than any teacher had

But he also enjoyed that your not scared of him despite that fact you definitely should be

You spoke to him without mockery but you also didn’t mince your words, you explained things without sugar coating his failures but you also didn’t rub his loses in his face

The other question why he has you teach him instead of just having you do his work, but you help him learn and overcome his insecurities that he’s had about his intelligence for years now

Maybe that’s why he’s so protective of you, maybe that’s why he begin to view you as a sister figure

Belch doesn’t care to expand his thoughts on that subject beyond the fact that he knows it’ll be hard to ever let go of you now

Henry and you have a weird dynamic

In some ways Henry views you as somewhat of an equal, in others he views you as the bottom of the food chain considering you can hardly defend yourself

His fascination brews from the need to be what you are, he’s always wanted to be the smartest in the room and his inherent narcissism had deluded him into believing that’s true

And now he has you, someone who actually is the smartest person in the room

Sometimes deep down Henry can’t tell if he’s obsessive with you because he wants to have an equal or if he just secretly wants what you have

He also enjoys that your unafraid of speaking the truth to him

You don’t sugarcoat your words when talking to him, which is a risky move on your part but it seems to work for you for now

You’ll openly disagree with his decisions if you believe they’re wrong, and usually Henry would kill someone for disrespecting him by disagreeing

But he feels more open to listening to you, feels more inclined to taking your advice

Your almost like a right hand to Henry, that’s if he ever actually admitted that your anything to him

But you are, because he’s already threatened and hurt the people who hurt you and is actively making sure that his presence surrounds you enough so that anyone within a few feet of you will flee out of fear

Henry believes that your just like him, therefore it’s his duty to guide you to the right path

To guide you into his path

You just didn’t realise how intrusive and dangerous this guidance would become

Sorry if this didn’t make sense at all 😭🙏

I’m trying to go for a sister sage and homelander type dynamic here but it probably doesn’t work

I just had the idea and thought I’d mix it with the ask tbh

Anyway, what did you think? :)

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covid-safer-hotties · 2 days

Text

also preserved on our archive

By Erica Sloan

These days, it’s tempting to compare COVID-19 with the common cold or flu. It can similarly leave you with a nasty cough, fever, sore throat—the full works of respiratory symptoms. And it’s also become a part of the societal fabric, perhaps something you’ve resigned yourself to catching at least a few times in your life (even if you haven’t already). But let’s not forget: SARS-CoV-2 (the virus responsible for COVID) is still relatively new, and researchers are actively investigating the toll of reinfection on the body. While there are still a lot of unknowns, one thing seems to be increasingly true: Getting COVID again and again is a good deal riskier than repeat hits of its seasonal counterparts.

It turns out, SARS-CoV-2 is more nefarious than these other contagious bugs, and our immune response to it, often larger and longer-lasting. COVID has a better ability to camouflage itself in the body, “and it has the keys to the kingdom in the sense that it can unlock any cell and get in,” says Esther Melamed, PhD, an assistant professor in the department of neurology at Dell Medical School, University of Texas Austin, and the research director of the Post-COVID-19 program at UT Health Austin. That’s because SARS-CoV-2 binds to ACE2 receptors, which exist in cells all over your body, from your heart to your gut to your brain. (By contrast, cold and flu viruses replicate mostly in your respiratory tract.)

It only follows that a bigger threat can trigger an outsize immune response. In some people, the body’s reaction to COVID can turn into a “cytokine storm,” Dr. Melamed tells SELF, which is characterized by an excessive release of inflammatory proteins that can wreak havoc on multiple organ systems—not a common scenario for your garden-variety cold or flu. But even a “mild” case of COVID can throw your immune system into a tizzy as it works to quickly shore up your defenses. And each reinfection is a fresh opportunity for the virus to win the battle.

While you develop some immunity after a COVID infection, it doesn’t just grow with each additional hit. You might be thinking, “Aren’t I more protected against COVID and less likely to have a serious case after having been infected?” Part of that is true, to an extent. In the first couple years after COVID burst onto the scene, reinfections were generally (though not always) milder than a person’s initial bout of the virus. “The way we understand classic immunology is that your body will say to a virus [it’s seen before], ‘Oh, I know how to deal with you, and I’m now going to deal with you in a better way the second time around,’” says Ziyad Al-Aly, PhD, a clinical epidemiologist at Washington University in St. Louis School of Medicine and the chief of research and development at the Veterans Affairs St. Louis Health Care System.

But any encounter with COVID can also cause your immune system to “go awry or develop some form of dysfunction,” Dr. Al-Aly tells SELF. Specifically, “immune imprinting” can happen, where, upon a second (or third or fourth) exposure to the virus, your immune cells launch the same response as they did for the initial infection, in turn blocking or limiting the development of new antibodies necessary to fight off the current variant that’s stirring up trouble. So, “when you get hit an [additional] time, your immune system may not behave classically,” Dr. Al-Aly says, and could struggle with mounting a good defense.

Pair that dip in immune efficiency with the fact that your antibody levels also wane with time post-infection, and it’s easy to see how another hit can rock your body in a new way. Indeed, the more time that passes after any given COVID infection, the less of a “competitive advantage” you’ll have against any future one, Richard Moffitt, PhD, an associate professor at Emory University, in Atlanta, tells SELF. His research found that, while people who got sick initially during the delta phase were less likely to get reinfected during the first omicron wave (as compared to folks who were infected in a prior period), that benefit leveled off with following omicron variants.

There’s also the fact that no matter how your immune system has responded to a prior strain (or strains!) of the virus, it could react differently to a new mutation. “We tend to think of COVID as one homogeneous thing, but it’s really not,” Dr. Al-Aly says. So even if your body successfully thwarted one of these intruders in the past, there’s no guarantee it’ll do the same for another, now or in the future, he says.

Getting COVID again and again is especially risky if it previously made you very ill. Dr. Moffitt’s study above also found that the “severity of your first infection is very predictive of the severity of a reinfection,” he says. Meaning, you’re more likely to have a severe case of COVID—for instance, requiring hospitalization or intensive care, such as ventilation—when reinfected if you had a rough go of it the first time around.

It’s possible that some folks are more prone to an off-kilter immune response to the virus, which could then happen consistently with reinfections. The antibodies created in people who’ve had severe cases “may not function as well as those in folks who’ve had mild infections or were able to fight the virus off,” Dr. Melamed says. Though researchers don’t fully understand why, some people’s immune systems are also more likely to overreact to COVID (remember the cytokine storm?), which can cause serious symptoms—like fluid in the lungs and shortness of breath—whenever they’re infected.

Being over the age of 65, having a chronic illness or other medical condition, and lacking access to health care have all been shown to spike your risk of serious outcomes with a COVID infection, whether it’s your first or fifth fight with the virus.

But you’re not home free if you’ve only had, say, a brief fever or cough with COVID in the past; Dr. Moffitt points out that a small subset of people in his research who had minor reactions with their initial infection went on to be hospitalized with a repeat hit. The probability of that might be lower, but it’s still a possibility, he says.

Even if you’ve only had “mild” cases, each reinfection strains your body, upping your chances of developing long COVID. A 2022 study led by Dr. Al-Aly found that COVID reinfections also increase your risk of complications across the board, regardless of whether you recovered just fine in the past or got vaccinated. In particular, it showed that reinfection raises the likelihood that you’ll need hospitalization; have heart or lung problems; or experience, among other possible issues, GI, neurological, mental health, or musculoskeletal symptoms. “We use the term ‘cumulative effects,’” Dr. Al-Aly says, “so, multiple hits accrue and then leave the body more vulnerable to all the potential long-term health effects of COVID.”

That doesn’t mean your experience of a second (or third or fourth) infection will necessarily be worse, in and of itself, than what you felt during a prior case. But with each new hit, a fresh batch of the virus seeps into your system, where, even if you have a mild case, it has another chance to trigger any of the longer-term complications above. While the likelihood of getting long COVID (a constellation of symptoms lingering for three months or longer post-infection) is likely greatest after initial infection, “The bottom line is, people are still getting diagnosed with long COVID after reinfection,” Dr. Moffitt says.

Researchers don’t totally know why one person might deal with lasting health effects over another, but it seems that, in some folks, the immune system misfires, generating not only antibodies to attack the virus but also autoantibodies that go after the body’s own healthy cells, Dr. Al-Aly says. This may be one reason why COVID has been linked to the onset of autoimmune conditions like psoriasis and rheumatoid arthritis.

A different hypothesis suggests that pieces of the virus could linger in the body, even after a person has seemingly “recovered” (reminder that SARS-CoV-2 is scarily good at weaseling its way into all sorts of cells). “Maybe the first time, your immune system was able to fully clear it, but the second time, it found a way to hang around,” Dr. Al-Aly posits. And a third theory involves your gut microbiome, the community of microbes in your GI tract, including beneficial bacteria. It’s conceivable that “when we get sick with COVID, these bacteria do, too, and perhaps they recover [on initial infection], but not on the second or third hit,” he says, throwing off your balance of good-to-bad gut bugs (which can impact your health in all sorts of ways).

Another unnerving possibility: The shock to your system triggered by COVID may “wake up” a latent (a.k.a. dormant) virus or two lurking in your body, Dr. Melamed says. We all carry anywhere from eight to 12 of these undetected bugs at a time—things like Epstein-Barr, varicella-zoster (which causes chickenpox and shingles), and herpes simplex. And research suggests their reactivation could be a contributing factor in long COVID. Separately, the systemic inflammation often created by COVID may spark the onset of high blood pressure and increased clotting (which can up your risk of stroke and pulmonary embolism), as well as type 2 diabetes, Dr. Melamed says.

There’s no guarantee that any given COVID infection snowballs into something debilitating, but each hit is like another round of Russian roulette, Dr. Al-Aly says. From a sheer numbers standpoint, the more times you play a game with the possibility of a negative outcome, the greater your chances are of that bad result occurring. And because every COVID case has at least some potential to leave you very ill or dealing with a host of persistent symptoms, why take the risk any more times than you need to?

Bottom line: You should do your best to avoid COVID reinfection and bolster your defenses against the virus. At this stage of the pandemic’s progression, it’s not realistic to suggest you can avoid any exposure to the virus, given that societal protections against its spread have been rolled back. But what you should do is take some common-sense precautions, which can help you avoid any contagious respiratory virus. (A cold or the flu may not pose as many potential health risks as COVID, but being sick is still not fun!)

It’s a good idea to wear a mask when you’re in a crowded environment (especially indoors), choose well-ventilated or outdoor spaces for group hangouts, and test for COVID if you have cold or flu-like symptoms, Dr. Al-Aly says. If you do get infected, talk to your doctor about whether your personal risk of a severe case is enough to qualify for a Paxlovid prescription (which you need to take within the first five days of symptoms for it to be effective).

The other important thing you should do is get the updated COVID vaccine (the 2024-2025 formula was recently approved and released). Unlike getting reinfected, the vaccine triggers “a very targeted immune response…because it’s [made with] a specific tiny part of the virus,” Dr. Melamed says. Meaning, you get the immune benefit of a little exposure without the potential of your whole system going haywire. Getting the current shot also ensures you restore any protection that has waned since you received a prior jab and that you have an effective shield against the dominant circulating strains. Plus, research shows that being vaccinated doesn’t just lower your chances of catching the virus; it also reduces your risk of having a severe case or winding up with long COVID if you do get it.

So, too, can the deceivingly simple act of keeping up with healthy habits—like exercising regularly, eating nutritious foods, and clocking quality sleep. Maintaining this kind of lifestyle can help you stave off other health issues that could increase your risk of harm from COVID, Harlan Krumholz, PhD, a cardiologist at Yale University and founder of the Yale Center for Outcomes Research and Evaluation (CORE), tells SELF. “Given that we will be repetitively exposed to the virus, the best investments we can make are in our baseline health,” he says.

Doing any (or all!) of the above is a big act of compassion for yourself, the people you love, and your greater community. “For the average person, it’s like, ‘Oh, COVID is gone,’ but they’re just not seeing the impact,” Dr. Al-Aly says, noting the invisibility of long COVID symptoms like disorienting brain fog and crushing fatigue. The truth is, in plenty of people, just one more infection could be the difference between living their best life and facing a devastating chronic condition.

#mask up #covid #pandemic #covid 19 #wear a mask #public health #coronavirus #sars cov 2 #still coviding #wear a respirator #lokng covid

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ironworked · 3 days

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Hen Begins timeline

"Ah, since the meltdown in '08, everybody's been cutting back.", says one of Hen's co-workers (2.09)

"Gina dragged me to that vampire movie." (2.09): New Moon was released on November 20, 2009 and remained in theaters until at least the end of March. Eclipse came out on June 30, 2010 and lasted on theaters until at least mid October.

"Senate votes 63 to 31 to repeal 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell.'" (6.06): Hen and Karen celebrate the repeal (December 2010) when they're already living together.

"I'm a Black lesbian that joined the fire department at 30" (4.03); "Last time I saw Clive was 1978 [...] I couldn't walk out on the father of my child." (5.09) -> Hen was born in 1978 or 1979, so it's likely she'd be 30 in 2009.

"After 13 years in the same firehouse, why would I know - what supplies we need?" (5.03)

“When I first entered this department, Captain Gerrard didn't even see me as a firefighter. And now, 12 years later," (6.01) -> this is a quote that doesn't quite fit, because it would put Hen starting out in '11, but it's not far off.

Circumstantial 'evidence': It's raining on every call and every time we can see the outside from the firehouse (and they make a point to note how 'rare' it is "it's nice in the sunroom when it's raining. Which is, like, once a decade now."). They don't imply or mention a 'significant' passage of time; we only see Hen meet up with Athena and her friends once ("Three of us we get together once a month, swap war stories."), no montages or timestamps or mention of holidays, and on the contrary, many scenes are connected in time:

Hen arrives during the day, there's a 'raining outside' transition shot, then they all arrive at the station after a call:

Next they're eating, a fade to black, and another transition (still raining, as we can see thanks to the window and the transition shot) this time to night and into the next 9-1-1 callers:

We follow the mudslide call, fade to black, another 'raining in LA' transition shot, and come back to Hen and Chim doing the dishes:

Next up, another transition shot showing a lightening sky with, you guessed it, more rain. From there we get Gerrard berating Hen (gif edited for length; also notice it's still raining!) followed by the 118 leaving on another call, without her. Jump to her dinner with Athena and friends:

The end of that dinner segues into Hen's speech, and then straight to the next call (limo accident). The end of that call fades to black. Lastly we get Hen arriving at the station the next day ('Yo, Wilson. Nice work yesterday') to find Gerrard gone:

After her talk with the Commander and then with Chim, they get called to another accident (and, poetically, it has stopped raining).

So we have a period of time from end of November 2009 to December 2010. In that time, Hen worked under Gerrard, and later made friends with Chim, and 'met-dated-moved in' with Karen. Which part of that lasted longer?

Next we have this:

"They're trying to recruit women now, you know?" + "8 women were recruited, and 3 of them make it through the academy" + "the mayor wants to say that female recruitment is up" "Since you've started working here, we've received numerous complaints. [...] It's not just complaints we're receiving. Your colleagues all have some pretty complimentary things to say about you. You've made quite an impression. [...] Why would we do that [fire Hen]? You're the future of the LAFD."

What makes sense to me, is that since the LAFD was making efforts to increase diversity they probably acted fast to oust Gerrard when the 118 started making noise, to avoid the possible bad publicity.

See what happened with Buck's lawsuit:

Bobby: You're gonna get a call tomorrow from the Chief; You're being reinstated to active duty. The brass didn't want the headache, they're afraid of the bad press. [3.05]

So, I would say Hen worked under Gerrard for a few shifts.

Thoughts? corrections?

I know that 911's timeline is hmm dot-on-Jeremy-Bearimy-coded, but this one actually made sense to me.

9-1-1 Episode Transcripts

#911 #911 on abc #Tv: 911 #long post #Btw this isn't meant to dismiss or diminish Hen's experience in any way; on the contrary #my intention is to highlight how what each of these characters did contributed to gradually change the 118 #Eli made it easier for Chim to stay on and stay himself; Chim reached out to Tommy #(who after being saved by Chim unfrosted a bit) and to Hen.#Hen stood her ground openly against the toxic culture at the 118.#And so by the time Hen arrived and did that “more than a few” of her colleagues were open to listening to her and willing to act.#Then Bobby and Buck continued making the 118 a better place #Bobby gets a lot of credit for what he did (and that's nice!) but the change started years earlier #and that how it often happens isn't it?

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gunaerystargarygun · 1 day

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The brain worms continue to infest my brain.

Posted on Ao3, but posting here as well: Here's my contribution to the Stan x Reader genre.

Tags: Vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, porn with mild plot, c'mon you guys know me at this point.

Know When to Fold 'Em

"Thanks for all your help, you're doin great, dood!" Soos's voice is full of pride, contentment as you hand over small zipped bag, the profits of the day. You smile, giving a slight shrug of your shoulders. "Soos, you've told me that every day for the past two years."

"And I mean it every time! Can't imagine runnin' this place without ya," he beams at you, his crooked smile making your own smile grow a little larger. Despite him being a few years younger than you, he makes a fantastic boss. "Can't believe Mr. Pines thought you was gonna be useless when I hired ya."

Well, that makes the smile drop.

You met Mr. Pines, well, both Mr. Pines when you got a job here at the shack, cashier and handyperson. A little odd, yes, but you needed the job and for a tourist trap? The place paid well enough, you could afford a small house and just about everything else you needed. You tap your foot, pressing your lips together. "Soos, not that I don't appreciate the words of encouragement, but you don't have to be up here." You throw a thumb over your shoulder and gesture to the shack. "I'm sure Melody could use your help with the baby."

"You sure? I feel kinda bad leavin' you here with all the clean up and restocking." Just as you're about to assure him that you're more than capable of restocking bobble heads and putting out minimally designed bumper stickers, the doorbell chimes and another voice breaks in. "Don't worry about it, Soos. I'll make sure everything gets put back in its place." The old Mr. Mystery poses in front of you. He stands tall, a rather tacky Hawaiian shirt with luau girls and surfboards plastered on it, a pair of khakis completing the look. He stretches his arms out in a flourish, making his entrance more grand.

You roll your eyes slightly, it's the same every time he comes into the shack, which...has been quite a lot, recently. "I haven't had a complaint once," you remark as Stanley begins to look around the place.

"That's cause Soos is too nice of a boss," he says, running his finger along the underside of the checkout counter. "See all this dust? Unbelievable!" He sticks out a finger towards your face, which you squint at.

"There's nothing there."

"To the untrained eye, maybe! This place may as well be covered in mud." You grumble an unhappy sound before Soos speaks up again. "Ah c'mon, Mr. Pines, they're a great worker!" Soos' arm comes around you in a one sided hug, squeezing you tight against his side. "Say, you been around a lot." Soos relaxes his grip on you, which lets you take in a deep breath. "You miss runnin' the shack?"

"What? No, no." He waves a hand dismissively. "Just makin' sure my life's work is still up and runnin', you know. Plus, the kids loved this place."

That was true. You had the pleasure of meeting the twins at the start of this summer. The girl, Mabel, was charming as all get out - she even made you a sweater, which you promised to wear in the colder months. The young boy, Dipper? A little surly. You swore he was running tests on when you weren't looking, or was trying to, anyway. At least by the end of the summer, whatever anxiety he had about you seemed to wash away.

"Okay! I'm gonna trust this place to yous guys. Lock up!" Soos waves his goodbyes, disappearing from the gift shop and somewhere into the house.

"I can handle this, you know?" You make your way to the small storage closet, taking out a box and ripping it open.

"I'm sure you can," he shrugs his shoulders. "Just makin' sure you do it right." Stanley then makes his way behind the register and takes a seat. You stand, blinking.

"What?" He asks.

"Aren't you going to help?"

"Huh? Oh, no, I'm not helpin' like that. I'm supervisin' ya," he laughs, slapping his own knee before propping them up on the counter.

You don't know why you expected anything different. You've known Stanley for the better part of two years and while he certainly has his redeeming qualities, being extra helpful isn't one of them. You sigh, and begin unpacking the restocks.

To your surprise, Stan is the one who strikes up the conversation. It's simple questions at first, how the shack has been, the types of tourists that've been coming around, and how Soos has been running the place. Whenever you think you finish with an answer, he probes for me, and you notice, his eyes stay on you a large majority of the time.

You feel your face flush a little with that.

Finally, the restocking is done, and you get the broom. Minimal housekeeping; the weather has been dry, so no mud. "You got any plans tonight?" The question catches you off guard, making you turn completely around to face Stan.

"Uh, other than eating a frozen pizza? No. Why?"

"Wanna play a couple round of cards?" He stuffs his hands in his khaki pockets, shrugging, as if he doesn't care how you answer the question. The way he shifts his attention to the floor, however, makes you think otherwise. "Ford's out on a nature hike, or whatever it is that nerds do in the woods, so I got no plans myself."

"Sure." You answer. "Sounds like fun, and beats eating the pizza alone."

By the look of quick surprise, he clearly wasn't expecting you to say yes. He shrugs it off fast enough, shooting a finger gun at you. "Perfect! What's the address? I'll be over at seven." You grab a pen and paper, scribbling it down and passing it over.

Huh, this'll be the first time he sees your house. You think that you better clean up a little bit, not that you think he'd particularly care, but still.

It takes very little to actually clean up your house. A few stray pieces of clothing that make it to the hamper (you missed each time you threw it in, but who's here to see?) and washing a few of the dishes. Just as you finish putting the pizza in, there's a knock at your door.

You hurry up, stopping at the mirror in the hallway just before the door, and look at yourself. You smooth out your shirt, nodding and opening the door.

Stanley stands on your porch with a twelve pack in one hand and two bottles of liquor, held precariously by the neck, in the other. He's still in the same outfit from earlier, but the top few buttons are undone. Were they like that earlier? "Figured it'd be impolite if I only brought it for myself," he shrugs the pack in his arm a little, the bottles clinking together. He glances around. "Nice place."

"Thanks," you say, stepping to the side and letting him in. "Just set it on the table." You watch as he strides through your house, the pack of alcohol landing with a thump while the bottles settle down nicely. He pulls out a chair, easing into it as he props up a foot on one of his knees. The way he leans against the table...

"Where's the cards?" You clear your throat, sliding out a chair across from him and taking a seat. You need something else to distract you.

"Right here," he sticks a hand in his pocket and pulls out a rather beat-up-looking deck of cards and slaps them on the table. "You shuffle, or me?" You eye the cards for a moment, reaching out and grabbing the deck.

"I will." The cards are pleasantly worn, and you can't help but wonder how much use these things have gotten. "Go easy on me? Been a while since I played."

"First rounds are on me," he nods. "Don't try and pull the wool over my eyes." He playfully points an accusatory finger at you.

"I know, I know." You cut the deck, shuffling them thoroughly before dealing them out.

It's...pleasant. You didn't expect it to be unpleasant, to be fair, but aside from the one off times of drinking, there's a handful of times when the two of you have been alone together. Stan takes the time to tell you a wild tale of when he was a "much younger buck," when he managed to steal a shipment of some undisclosed items from a smuggler. It's amusing, even if it isn't real. You can never tell with him.

Eventually, the oven dings and the pizza is ready. It's served, and you bring two glasses out as well. Before the beer, Stan reaches for the liquor and twists off the cap. "Want one?" You press your lips together, thinking for a moment.

"Hit me." It's a guesstimate on how much a shot would be. Or maybe two.

Either way, you wait until Stan pours his before clinking your glasses together and downing it. Whiskey may not be your go-to, especially when it's warm, but the burn in your throat has a familiar comfort. You cough a little, shaking your head and nodding. "Strong." You comment.

"That's the point." He says. Stan sticks out his hand, wiggling his fingers as a sign to hand the cards over. You do, still reeling from the shot as you fish out a bottle of beer. It goes down much easier than the whiskey.

You try very hard to not stare at his hands, but it's difficult. It wasn't something you noticed immediately, but Stan's hands are.... big. Large. Pretty much every synonym for big is how you would describe them, and you vaguely recall the one time you touched them as you passed him something in the shop. They were rough, calloused, but also incredibly warm.

You're not drunk enough to blame that thought on the alcohol right now, so you just push it from your mind as he deals the cards.

Once again, things go back to being pleasant. You nurse your beer as the cards continue to get played, one bottle quickly multiplying between the two of you, along with the cash piling in the center of the table. The conversation steers to him telling you about the adventures he had with the Twins, an endearing tone in his voice that you can't help but smile at. The pizza gets devoured, and when you glance up to the clock, you realize that it's almost eleven o'clock. Have you really been here this long?

That's when it clicks in your alcohol muddled brain.

Stan is lonely. He's been in the shop almost every day for the past week, since the twins left, and even before then, he and the twins were around quite a bit. It would make sense, he went from being around them, his brother, Soos's family, and you for almost three months straight. You look down at the cards, your focus fading for a moment before he speaks.

"Think I mighta run you outta money," he gestures to the table. Your attention turns to it and yeah, there's a decent pile of cash on it. You're pretty sure there's also monopoly money in there, but you're a little too drunk to really notice. "Got anything else to bet?" You think for a moment, tapping the table.

"M'clothes." You answer, plainly. He stares at you.

"Uh, didn't quite catch that?"

"M'CLOTHES." You say it in a louder tone, making sure he can hear it this time. "S'all I got, I'm not up for bettin' my appliances." You point at the blender that sits atop the counter.

"C'mon," he rubs at the back of his neck. "That'd involve me takin' my clothes off too, you don't wanna see that."

"What if I told you that's why I suggested it?" holy shit, why are you saying this? Why are you suddenly so bold, what the hell is in this drink?

"I'd tell ya, you should stop teasin' an old man." You grab the deck of cards, shuffling them in the absolutely worst way ever before slamming them back on the table and pushing them over to him. "Deal 'em."

"You're too drunk for this." The rather sincere reply catches you off guard.

"No, I'm not." You say, stern in your rebuttal. "Look." You jump to your feet, a little wobbly, and begin putting one foot in front of the other, walking a line in the linoleum of your kitchen. While you're not walking perfectly straight, you're doing better than expected. You think so, anyway. "See? I'm f-" just as you're about to finish your sentence, you perform the miraculous feat of tripping over air. You fall a freshly logged tree.

You expect to crash to the floor in the most painful crash since the last time you went to the roller rink, but you never meet the ground. Slowly, you open your eyes, staring up at him. You must have spun in your fall, his hands tucked under your armpits. "What were you sayin' about bein sober enough?" Oh, he's so fucking smug about this.

"I trip on nothin' all the time, drinkin' doesn't have anything to do with this." you weakly shrug your hands, but this close, you catch the smell on him. Mixed with the alcohol, you can catch the scent of cigar smoke, but something faintly woodsy and earthy. It takes everything in you to not sniff at the air. "Uh-huh." he chuckles.

There's a brief moment of silence that passes over the two of you. He doesn't make a move to pull you up, but you're not making a move to get up, either. Instead, you raise a hand and gently press it against his cheek. "You're handsome." You mumble.

"Oh, you're fuckin' wasted."

That makes you twist in his grip. You manage to push yourself to your knees, putting your face just a few inches away from his. "Stop talkin' like I don't mean it."

"You don't mean it."

"I mean this." You grab the sides of his tacky Hawaiian shirt and pull him forward. Your lips crash against his, not realizing how hard you pulled him into you. The scrape of his stubble burns against your chin, a slight shiver running through you. There's the faint taste of tobacco that lingers on him, the chapped skin of his lips. It isn't how you expected this to happen, but to be quite frank, you didn't think this was ever going to happen.

It's only a moment later that you realize he hasn't made a move to kiss you back. He hasn't done anything. You quickly pull back, embarrassed. Why did you do that? God, you're never drinking again. You're not even an alcoholic, and you're planning to go to a 12 step program the second you get sober enough to drive. Your mind races - where else could you move? Maybe the Arctic, right? That's far enough way, that way you c-

You're actually not even far away from him before his arm wraps around your waist, pulling you against his broad chest. You squeak in surprise, hands resting on his thick thighs as he deepens the kiss.

Even through the clothes, he's hot, almost like a furnace. He's burning against you, and this kiss. It makes you dizzy, head spinning. There's a hunger in the kiss, a desperation that you don't think you've ever felt when you kissed other people. His hand holds a tight grip on you, squeezing your side, and you practically melt right into him.

It's a little awkward at first before you two manage to change your positions; neither one of you is keen on breaking the kiss. Eventually, you end up sitting on his lap, legs wrapped around his waist, he sits on the kitchen floor. Shifting, you can feel the hardness of his cock beneath the fabric of the khakis.

Your hands reach for the hem of your shirt. They don't make it far, Stan's hands gripping your wrist. He's somehow even stronger than you expected, your stomach flipping at the pressure. He breaks the kiss, leaning his forehead against yours, panting. You're expecting him to say something filthy, something that's going to make you squirm in his lap.

"Say your alphabet," is what he says instead.

What.

"What?" You ask.

"Say your alphabet," he repeats. "Not sleepin' with ya if you're not in the right state of mind."

"I walked, didn't I?"

"You fell."

Okay, fair enough.

So, you recite your alphabet. It's deliberate, and it's not too slow to cause any concern. As soon as you finish, he releases your wrists and grabs your shirt. It's the fastest your shirt has ever been removed, Stan's face immediately between your tits as soon as he's able. The stubble scratches as your skin, laughing slightly as he plants kisses against your chest. His hands reach around to your back, and you expect him to have trouble with it.

It's off before you can even blink.

"You're suspiciously good at that," you say.

"Aww, you jealous?" He laughs, sliding the bra off and tossing it somewhere behind him. "Don't worry, ain't nobody else gettin' the treatment you are."

"That's what you tell m-" you're cut off, Stan's tongue flicking against your nipple.

"Sayin' somethin', sweetheart?" He glances up, not giving you a chance to speak before he presses his mouth against your left nipple. You grab his shoulders, squirming against him as his tongue swirls around the hardened flesh. One arm wraps around your waist, grinding you against him while his free hand finds your other breast, kneading the flesh in his hand.

Your body feels like it's on fire under his touch. He plays with how much pressure he can put on you, rolling a nipple between his fingers while he sucks mercilessly on your other. Sweat beads on your brow, bucking against him while whimpering sounds escape you. "C'mon, sweetheart." He takes his mouth away from you, the cold air assaulting wet flesh. He playfully bucks his hips up, his cock grinding against you for just a moment. "Wanna hear what a good job I'm doin," he changes the arm that holds you against him, his other hand rising and brushing against the spit slickened skin.

Between the cold and his rough, calloused hand, you feel like you're already on the edge. "You aren't done already, are ya?"

"N-no," you mumble, tilting your head back and moaning as his mouth closes around the other nipple. Judging from the way his tongue flicks against your skin, he certainly appreciates the reaction. The way he sucks against your skin is greedy, teeth nipping at the skin. You're going to have bruises, you've accepted that. Your hands move from his shoulders to his hair, running through the gray, surprisingly soft, hair.

Using everything you can muster, you grind yourself against him. He groans against your skin, the grip on your skin tightening. He pulls away from you with an obscene sound, the words practically a growl in his throat. "Where's the bed?"

"Down the hall, last door on the right."

He gives pause for a moment, thinking. "Too far." He decides, aloud. Before you can process what he says, you're suddenly scooped up. You wrap your arms around him, tits bouncing as he hoists you around him. You leave the kitchen, and in a few feet, you're tossed unceremoniously on the couch. Your hands find the button of your jeans, getting them half way down your thighs before Stan takes over. They're off before you can even blink, Stan settling between your thighs. He picks one up, hooking your leg over his shoulder while he presses a thumb against your soaked panties.

You're already trembling, and your entire body jumps as he presses his thumb against your clit, rotating it in small painfully slow circles. He leans over you, grinning. "You want somethin'?"

"You know what I want," you breathe, fingers gripping the couch cushion.

"'Fraid I don't, sweetheart. You're gonna have to tell me." He lets up on the pressure, eliciting a whine from you. "I want your fingers," you reach out, gently touching his arm.

He's happy to comply. "Wasn't so hard, was it?" There's that smug fuckin' tone in his voice again. You expect him to pull off your underwear, but it doesn't seem like he's patient enough for that. Instead, he pulls them to the side, his middle and ring fingers sliding up and down against your wet cunt.

"W-wait!" You sit up some as he presses against you. "It's, uh..." you clear your throat. "It's been a while." You feel almost embarrassed to admit it, but with how thick his fingers are, and two of them? You don't wanna run the risk of getting hurt. He pauses, offering just the middle one to you in compromise. You make a face, and he laughs before he raises the finger to his mouth. He presses it against his tongue before dipping it back between your thighs. "Don't think that would've been an issue," you murmur as you feel him begin to slide into you.

You tilt your face against the couch arm, moaning as he buries the finger inside of you. "Bein' careful doesn't hurt," that's true, and you do honestly appreciate the sentiment. He moves his hand in a steady rhythm, the other hand keeping your legs spread apart. You bite your lip, and after a few minutes, he judges that you're ready for another and adds the ringer finger inside of you.

It's thick, and stretches you in the best possible way. "Feels good, don't it?" He leans over you, his face just a few inches away from yours. You don't know why it slips out - maybe you lapse back into what you were taught when you were younger. "Y-yes, sir." You pant the words out.

Stan's fingers stutter for just a moment before he thrusts them back into you, a moan immediately muffled by his lips against yours. He curls his fingers in the same way as before, the way that made your body shake like a leaf in his hand. "Like the way that sounds comin' outta you," he says the words against your neck, pressing kisses against your rapid pulse.

You can't handle it anymore. "Stanley," your voice teeters on the edge of breaking, fingers twisting in the Hawaiian shirt fabric. "F-fuck, Stanley, I-I.." the words die in your throat as he suddenly removes his fingers from your cunt. "W-what?" The words come out a whine, grabbing the shirt tighter and moving your hips to try and find his hand. "Stan," you groan.

"I can't have you all tired out before we get to the good stuff," he tells you. His hands move to the belt, making quick work of it. He slips off the khakis, positioning himself between your legs again before pressing the shaft of his cock against you, sliding against the slickness. You look between your legs, the head of his cock dipping in against your cunt before his hand tilts it up, bumping against your overly sensitive clit.

You're dizzy, just like before. Your head swims, biting your lip as he teases you constantly, angling himself and barely pushing himself in before pulling out. "You're lookin' desperate, sweetheart." He does a poor job of concealing his own desire, unable to take his eyes off your body. "Fuck, you're drippin'." He grins at you. "Still got it, huh?"

You suddenly brace your arms against his shoulders, pushing him back against the couch and straddling his lap. "You talk too much," the words come out in one rushed breath as you reach between your legs and grab the base of his cock, holding him steady as you bury him inside of you. A stifled moan escapes you as your body adjusts to his size. One hand grabs your waist, stilling any movement you might make, while the other grabs your jaw, forcing you to look at him. "You alright?" You nod your head, your lips slightly pursed from how he squeezes your face.

"Good," he breathes, releasing your face. His hand drops to your chest, holding your breast. As soon as you roll your hips forward, Stan can't keep his mouth shut. "Shit, fuck," his eyes are half-lidded, head resting against the back of the couch as you ride him. "You're tight as a fuckin drum, and hotter than hell." You smile, bracing your hands against the couch as you snap your hips forward, rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

Both of his hands are on your tits, thumb brushing over the nipples. "Perfect," he mumbles out. Sweat beads across your body, Stan's hand eventually traveling downwards and finding your clit again. The moan rips from your throat as the calloused finger pads press against you, an almost aggressive rub against you - but it's exactly what your body wants. "There ya are," he practically purrs the words out as you lean down.

Your lips catch his, sloppy kisses without much care, as long as you can kiss him. Your burning in every sense of the word, body and nerves as Stan grabs your ass, timing your movements with his own thrusts. He somehow manages to go even deeper inside of you, each thrust sending another wave of pleasure through you. "Stanley!" His name is barely above a whisper as he suddenly pushes you back against the cushions, back on top of you.

He takes a leg, hiking it over his shoulder and leaning over you, your body curling slightly. His pace is merciless, whatever words you had before devolving into incoherent moans of pleasure as they spill from your lips. It's when the orgasm wrecks your body that you swear to God, you see literal stars in your vision as you cum. Your body tenses, nails digging into his forearms so hard that you're a little worried you may draw blood. Stanley, somehow, has enough sense to pull himself from you, his cock sliding against you before he cums.

Thick, milky ropes land on your stomach and tits as he slows his thrusts, breathing heavily before slumping down over you. You're catching your own breath, a hand raising to his back and gently running up and down the now sweat soaked shirt.

"You good?" He asks, his voice somehow hoarser than before.

You can't really respond, offering a thumbs up in response.

"Huh, fucked you so good you lost the ability to talk huh?" Weakly, and playfully, you slap him.

"Asshole." He snorts, removing himself from you and sitting back against the couch. He looks at you. Then the mess on you. "Where's your shower?"

"Bathroom, which is in the bedroom." You yawn. Stan picks the boxes out of his khakis, sliding them on before bending beside you. "Put yer arms around me," you stare at him a moment. "C'mon, before I change my mind." You do as he says, looping your arms around his neck as his hands slide under your sweaty body, hoisting you up.

"Not too much for you, is it, old man?" You laugh, leaning your head against his shoulder.

"I can still drop you, ya know?"

"Mhmm." You mumblr. He feigns the drop, your grip tightening on him.

"Gotcha." He winks at you, but at this point, you're too tired to really fight back. Stan manages to open the door to your room and find the bathroom, setting you on the closed toilet. He reaches into the shower, turning the knobs and keeping his hand in for a moment. "You want it on the hotter or colder side?"

"Uh, hotter." The question catches you off guard.

"Figures, every woman wants it hot as hell." He adjusts the knob behind the curtain, taking it back and shaking off the water. "What?" He asks, raising a brow as you make a face at him.

"Just, uh..." again, you're trying to avoid sounding like an asshole. "Didn't expect aftercare?

"I may be a lot of things, and one of those things may be an asshole, but I'm not that big of an asshole." He sets his hands on his hips and you can't help but snort a giggle. "Up." he tells you, offering an arm. You stand on wobbly legs, leaning against him.

"Not sure how this is gonna work." You admit. "Kinda feel like a newborn deer."

"I'm gonna help you," he says. "Also, get a new metaphor."

"That's a simile."

"Oh, look at me, I paid attention in English." He mocks in a joking tone. "Just.. stand here." You do as your told, watching as he unbuttons his top and shakes it off, revealing the sweat covered girdle that's still wrapped around his waist. "You kept that on the whole time?" That's...kind of impressive.

"Done a lot more uncomfortable things, sweetheart." He says. He drops the girdle on your bathroom floor, gesturing for you to get in the shower. You do, Stan offering his arm for support as he follows you in shortly after. He keeps an arm around you, just below your breasts, in case you slip.

It does make you feel safe. You take the washcloth, soaping it up and slowly begin to scrub your body. The hot water feels amazing on your tired body, breathing in the smell of your soap and shampoo. When you're happily scrubbed, you turn in Stan's arms. "Your turn." You say.

"What?"

"You need to get clean too," you tell him. You don't let him protest, reaching over to your shampoo and squirting a pump into your palm and scrubbing it onto his scalp. There may have been a moment of protest, but it falls off quickly. His eyes shut, letting you work as you comb through his thinning hair. You take a few steps back, turning as carefully as you can so that he's under the stream of water. You work diligently, ensuring all the soap is off before you apply the conditioner and repeat it. He's strangely quiet the entire time, and yet you notice, he's relaxed. It's the first time you think you've ever seen his body this loose.

You grab the washcloth again, soaping it up again before pressing it against his chest. Now that there's no risk of soap in his eyes, Stan cracks one of his eyes open and looks down at you. "You're sweet, y'know?"

"Mhm." You hum in response.

"Seriously," he says. His thumb and forefinger catch your chin, tilting you up to meet his gaze. He leans down, the kiss tender, soft.

There's no intent behind it than affection. Somehow, it makes you feel hotter than what happened in the kitchen. You know you have the dopiest smile on your face, but at the moment, you don't care. You drag the rag over his body, his stomach, everywhere you can as he holds you close to him. When he's finally rinsed, he turns off the shower and carefully helps you step out. A few towels later, you're dry, warm, and exhausted.

You have a few oversized t-shirts that you used to clean the house in, and you manage to find one that fits Stan. There's no way he's making it home tonight. In your own pajamas, you climb into bed as Stan sits on the side of it. "Oh this thing is way comfier than your couch, no offense." He tests the springs, looking at you. "Maybe next time we'll make it to the bed."

"I'll hold you to that," you laugh. "Not tonight, though."

"What a shame," he winks. "You, uh, actually fine with me sleeping in here?" You're getting comfortable beneath the sheets, resting your head on the pillow.

"Stan," you start. "You were literally inside me. You can sleep next to me."

"You'd be surprised how often those two things don't go hand in hand," he remarks off-handedly. Your face creases in worry, about to sit up before he reaches out and pushes you back down. "Story for another day." He pulls the sheets back, sliding in beside you and staring up at the ceiling. A shiver runs through you, scooting closer to him and hooking a leg over his. He raises an arm, putting it behind you so that you're able to rest your head against his chest. "Don't get used to this," you know he doesn't mean a word of that.

"Goodnight, Stan." You stretch, placing a kiss on his cheek. You settle back down, shutting your eyes.

Gently, you feel the ghost of a kiss on the top of your head. "Goodnight."

You fall asleep to his heartbeat, something you think you'd enjoy getting used to

#gravity falls #stanley pines x reader #stan pines x reader #dw i'm still inactive but i wanted to post

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ghouldtime · 1 day

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*slides into the DMS*

S O. What does social anxiety for König look like through your fantastic characterization then? 👀

(Love your Alone operator series btw. Got me on the edge of my seat with each chapter!!)

(Thank you!! 💚💚💚 I'm so glad you're enjoying :D you all have been so so sweet with it and Im over the MOON so many people have liked it)

To answer this question I'm going to have to be a biiig yapper and explain why I think of him the way I do

Going to say this to start, but I'm going with the true fact that König is indeed diagnosed with social anxiety - anything else I'm saying is based off of my personal interpretation of how he acts in game as a disclaimer

I'm also going to state that personally, the König I write is in his lower to mid 40's. Sorry not sorry, I don't see him as a young dude. Especially not when it's pretty much agreed upon that he's a colonel. So he's had a SIGNIFICANT amount of life experience, and a significant amount of time to work on himself and have introspection.

To me, it makes the most sense that he was diagnosed with social anxiety earlier on in his childhood since it was significantly more obvious when he was younger. Something that severe wasn't unnoticed by those around him because some of them did care about him. It's also stated he's suffered from severe social anxiety throughout his life so that's how I took it.

I personally go with he grew up in a more rural town in his homeland of Austria, which meant there weren't exactly others around during the first few years. "Go play with the neighbors kids" didn't really work when there weren't neighbors around. It was mainly him and his parents and an occasional relative over.

What could be brushed off as initial shyness clearly couldn't be anymore when he finally was enrolled in school.

Even on the first day when it's "introduce yourself to everyone", he fucked that up so monumentally it'll be engraved forever in his hall of shameful memories that he thinks about late at night. School was an utter nightmare, quite frankly, from moment one. The whole situation was too much, too stressful, and too different from the life he had at home. He flat out refused to get up and present in front of the class and wouldn't talk in group projects just for the fear of embarrassing himself. At that time, he was hitting all the indicators for social anxiety like they're the targets he shoots at today.

He missed out on a lot of interaction with other kids initially because of how awkward he was - and having any form of anxiety never helps in social situations. Talking to others wasn't something that came naturally and his own panic amplified it tenfold. Most times, he'd either pretend he didn't hear them, avoid them, or stray as far to the edge of the group as possible to avoid it. Unfortunately this made him an easy target because kids are RUTHLESS and turned him into even more outcast as well which only worsened it.

School always sucked for him due to that, despite the fact that he was a smart kid. No amount of smarts could save you from social persecution when you had nearly no social skills to boot. [ side note but I'm dying on the hill that he's incredibly intelligent and has a bachelors degree (at the very least)].

His parents kept him in therapy to help him manage because without it, he'd be back at square one refusing to go to school and faking a cold just to get out of it. And of course, therapy is a very important tool when it comes to healing, coping, and managing severe mental disorders. The whole reason why he doesn't show such bad anxiety anymore is because he kept the skills he learned and applies them so much that it becomes his second nature.

He's had at least 35 years of this, he's good enough to mask and to keep up his facade.

Another part of why he doesn't show it nearly as much is because he joined the military and was thrown through the wringer with it. Being bullied for so long was a major motivator for joining in the first place, as he needed something to get away from the peers who tormented him so and he needed a new life where he wasn't known as target #1. But he ALSO wanted to gain actual confidence and more certainty in himself.

Joining the military really means you're not left with such things as many choices when it comes to anxiety in social situations. You're forced into quarters with others, have to work side-by-side, do nearly everything together, so on and so forth. He knew that going in but at that point for him it was like extreme exposure therapy, the last step he needed to really put everything he learned in therapy to work.

That doesn't mean he didn't suffer or loved it. No, it was terrible, intense, and nerve-wracking. But he wouldn't have done it otherwise if he didn't want that. Being in the military didn't give him the leeway to avoid what made him anxious, it taught him to face it head on and fight.

Now that he's up there in age and has considerable more experience (and leeway with having a higher rank), the ways he expresses it [look at me finally answering the question] are more subtle.

On the field, you're likely not going to notice it. Because that's him turning the little auto pilot switch in his mind to on when he has a job. The job is his focus and everything has been so engrained in his mind that it's muscle memory. He's, quite frankly, focused on not dying and getting any job done over himself. The joking you often hear him do and taunting alike is part of how he's expressing the confidence he feels when he's in his element, when he KNOWS what he is doing.

If you look closely or approach him off the field, however, it's another story. He usually tenses or straightens himself out when people approach and will hold that until they leave (unless they're someone who he truly knows). Many assume that's a taught habit of the military, but that's only half-true. He did that before then.

Unlike when he's working, he doesn't have a guide or things he knows he has to do in a specific order to best ensure survival - no matter how much talking to other people feels like the heat of the battle, you can't (legally) solve it with a gun or throw a frag and book it out of there. There's no true guide to social interactions and that stresses him out. There's no manual, no field guide, no ten step card on how to successfully navigate them.

He knows things that are normal to say, he knows sometimes what he should say - it's just a matter of finding the phrasing and how to say them. Yet it seems like whenever someone doesn't follow his pre-programmed line of thought when it comes to their talking, his mind can shut down and go blank as he stares, trying to figure out where to go or what to say (spoiler: it usually doesn't end well).

He's usually awkward to talk to because he's running over everything in his head as he tries to think of what best to say to avoid further interactions or ones that could be more targeting to him. And, as mentioned, he lacks the average set of social skills that plenty learn in childhood because he didn't have that proper socialization. He's also still not the best at talking itself and can be blunt and to-the-point, which also doesn't usually go down well.

Not to mention, he's bad at small talk and has a terrible, sarcastic sense of humor that many can't read and it quickly turns things uncomfortable very fast because everyone takes him seriously. It never helps he usually doesn't explain himself all too well, usually leaving it as is as he secretly wishes he didn't talk at all when mortification sets in. Hurrying away with an excuse of some paperwork or something else to busy himself is his go-to after those.

When possible, he'll avoid small-talk and greatly prefers gestures instead. Someone who can appreciate his greater need for silence and a lack of talking is someone who he will greatly appreciate in turn. He's a firm believer that not all silences are uncomfortable and sometimes, it IS best not to say anything at all.

Due to his childhood too, he's not really fond of being around many people and will do his best to avoid it. Unless he has to grin and bare it, he won't. He finds his mind calmest when he can just be himself without having to worry about saying the right things to appease others or to be friendly. That way he can focus on what he wants, think how he wants, and feels how he wants without second guessing himself or having to worry about existing.

He's going to avoid most public settings when possible. Though he can now suitably manage his anxiety, they're something he passes up on. Grocery store trips are something he does maybe once a week or two, if that - stock piling so he has to go to the store less is his usual strategy. Anything he can do himself, he WILL do himself, if he doesn't have a trusted person who can do it better or can help.

Notably, he also doesn't have many friends. He's like talking to a brick wall and unless you're considerably persistent and understanding of his need for space, you won't get far. A lot of people don't have the time nor patience for it, but if you do get close to him, he does come out of his shell. He appreciates anyone who cares enough to actually get close to him and get to know him despite how awkward he can be, and will be loyal to the end because of that.

Another side effect is that he doesn't sleep well. Between the massive amounts of trauma from his job and the trauma from his childhood, he doesn't sleep well as is. But the social anxiety aspect comes into play because many nights, his mind is rerunning all the interactions he's had as he chronically overthinks them. He always wonders what he could've done, how he could've improved, and what they're thinking of him (even if they're someone he may never run into again). Its very hard for him to shut his mind off and doing such usually requires him drowning everything else and making himself not think about that, or anything, any more.

[Another side note: He's an avid reader. Reading gives him new things to think about and can help put him to sleep, especially before bed. It's a good way for him to stop thinking about whatever was nagging him and shifts his mind into thinking about other things he enjoys instead)

Basically, IN SHORT this isn't my full in-depth detailed characterization of exactly who I think he is - the reason he's not presenting it as an anxious ball of pure energy who is so uwu shy and soft is because he is incredibly well-managed with his severe social anxiety at his age and that's uh, just not him. Social anxiety doesn't mean he's a blubbering mess or will cry at the slightest inconvenience and reducing him to that or treating anyone with social anxiety like they're a child because of it does not help at alllll.

He's had extensive therapy for this, he's got his methods, he can mask very well. He's a WHOLE GROWN MAN who is responsible for not only his actions but how he manages his emotions and he knows it. But if you know him and know what to look for, you'll be able to pick it up.

(Also the sheer amount of scenarios I've seen where people think he just would... cry if you took his mask off??? Him???? HIM???? König, "I can make you talk, where are they?" the skilled PMC operator? That one? That guy? Yeah no, anyone dumb enough to do that better have signed their will prior or hopefully has an intensive love for scrubbing all the floors with a single old toothbrush. He won't tolerate people harassing or hustling him or pressing on his nerves. Sure, it reminds him of his childhood bullies, but quite frankly that behavior as grown adults trying that is RIDICULOUS, it pisses him off and immediately lowers his opinion on them.)

To whoever made it this far, I hope this made sense, I took melatonin before I got the ask so I'm in another realm right now LMAO. König is one of my favorites and was the first character I realllly really loved and I just hate seeing him done so dirty. Especially as someone with severe social anxiety myself, it irritates me when it's portrayed just so... wrong and quite frankly, in a lazy, offensive manner lacking any nuance especially in relation to the character who has it. Like just making him stutter and cry isn't all social anxiety is and there's SO much depth and things to work with despite the... actual substance as far as his bio goes

#könig cod #call of duty #cod #call of duty x reader #könig call of duty #könig x reader #konig x reader #konig cod #konig call of duty #cod modern warfare #rant post #rambles #könig headcanons #cod headcanons #this is just how i write him and is my own personal take #if anyone wants to hear more about my König I'll be happy to yap #ghouldtimetalks

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ghostradiodylan · 1 day

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Probably a lukewarm take, but other than the (lack of an) ending, the Laura and Ryan scenes are some of the worst written and conceived parts of The Quarry.

And this is completely separate from whether Ryan is interested in Dylan (he is, but that's another post and not important to this rant) or Kaitlyn; even if Ryan had no other potential relationships in the game, even if Laura wasn't practically married to Max, wearing his ring around her neck the entire time they're talking, it still would feel flat to me because nothing about it is earned.

Laura is on a killing spree with the single-minded goal of saving Max. She genuinely believes the only way to do that is to kill Chris Hackett. Even if you've made her argue with Max to the extent that they can, they're still a strong unit when she goes out to solve this werewolf thing once and for all. Even if you don't believe in love think their relationship would survive all this trauma, she deeply believes she owes it to him to rescue him, that is her entire guiding ethos during the game.

Ryan is going with her to try to keep that from happening because Chris has been his friend and mentor for years. We know Ryan has an absent mother, unmentioned father, and a potentially turbulent family life, and he's been coming to HQSC for so long that it feels like home to him, that Chris and his kids feel like family. Laura has already killed Kaylee. Even if Ryan completely bought into the werewolf thing by now, that would be a tough pill for him to swallow, given his reaction to her death.

Then, they fall in the titular Quarry and suddenly have the option to express a completely unearned sort of camaraderie with each other. Why is Laura asking Ryan about his love life in the first place? The question about him being single makes sense as a dig, but it doesn't make any sense for her to ask about him being a 'brooding and mysterious loner' because... she hasn't actually seen him do anything brooding or mysterious? How did she even get that impression? If Laura's got some kind of borderline psychic intuition then this is really the worst possible use of that ability--she should have foreseen her need to go to that motel and stay the fuck out of locked storm shelters instead.

It doesn't make a lick of sense for her to say that Kaitlyn looks up to him either. She hasn't seen that. Hell, we as players haven't even seen that! Kaitlyn seems generally tolerant of but unimpressed by Ryan. She has the option to be impatient with him multiple times and even get the chyron that she's ‘losing respect’ for him if he suggests she take the gun and go after Nick instead. This seems like an objectively good idea, since she's a much better shot than Ryan, a fact which the game keeps telling us despite refusing to give her a gun until the last possible second, though maybe the concern is that she'd have to drag Nick back to the campfire herself. (Honestly, I think Kaitlyn could do it, I think she's like a mighty ant who can lift many times her own weight, but that's not what this post is about.)

Ryan, for his part, shouldn't really be willing to talk about any of this with Laura either. He canonically doesn't even want to talk to his coworkers about his animation school decision (in the office scene with Dylan and at the campfire with Emma if you choose truth like a lunatic) and he's known them for at least two months, if not for years attending the same camp. But he met Laura a few hours ago and is suddenly willing to spill his guts about who he does or doesn't have a crush on and who does/doesn't have 'the hots' for him, despite the only experience they have together being her leaving his friend of several years dead facedown in a pool and expressing a strong desire to kill his father figure? I simply do not buy it.

I'm not sure if this was supposed to go along with the relationship system that they scrapped or what (there's not a single shred of Ryan and Laura stuff in the datamine that I've been able to find), but all it really serves to do is muddy the waters by trying to force some level of intimacy on Ryan and Laura before the big confrontation at the Hackett House. But that confrontation itself should have been the thing that forged that intimacy between them and allowed them to go on to fight Silas together.

Overall, I think it's a major sign that the back third of the game got a very rushed and, frankly, bad chop job (which we know is true) and that they struggled to tie the resulting loose threads off in a way that made any kind of narrative sense. It's a shame, because the writing in The Quarry is actually way better than most people give it credit for, it just wasn't allowed to pay off in a lot of ways that clearly were intended.

#the quarry #bunny rants #bunny rants about the quarry #I can see that Laura is an objectively good character but this makes me not fond of her #In the same way it seems to make a lot of people not fond of Ryan but I could never not be fond of Ryan #Laura & Ryan #ryan erzahler #laura kearney #imagine if the quarry was an actually finished game #sigh

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daydreamerwoah · 6 hours

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Family Tree (Chapter 2)

Adding on to the next story I want to work on :)

Simon x Y/n <3

Taskforce 141 had just gotten back from their usual mission in Al Mazrah. The guys were exhausted but satisfied with the outcome of successfully taking down another terrorist that had stormed the area. Kate Laswell had just finished debriefing the team on everything when Kyle "Gaz" Garrick asked if they wanted to grab drinks with him and his girlfriend. She was getting off work soon and was very much excited that he was back safe - a slight celebration, what she called it. John "Soap" MacTavish immediately agreed because he wasn't about to turn down an offer for a good Scotch. And while John Price would have just gone home and had a cigar before heading to bed, he decided to go as well.

All that was left was Simon "Ghost" Riley. The mysterious man who liked to be alone... most of the time. But he'd never turn down a chance to get a bourbon. It took a bit of convincing from Soap - Johnny as he usually called him - to get him to tag along, but he finally gave in. A short huff - that was muffled by his balaclava - falling from his mouth as he shook his head at the sergeant's antics.

Their usual spot was a pub that was on the other side of town. The locals usually cramped the space, but sometimes, a few soldiers from the base would make the drive to grab a drink and some food. Every once in a while, the owner - an older man who was probably in his 70s, would conversate with the team, having been in the SAS many years ago himself. He'd tell stories about his time in war and service, often making people smile or laugh with his jokes that went along with them. It also wouldn't be as busy as it was with the other pubs that were closer to the base or in the center of town; it was also close enough to each of their homes as well.

"Baby!" a woman's voice somewhat shouted throughout the bar as Ella pranced in the place and hugged Kyle tightly as soon as she greeted him. She was usually a calm person, but whenever she hadn't heard from her boyfriend in over two weeks, she'd always worry. But there he was with his boys, alive and well; tired but well.

As they settled into their seats and their drink of choice was brought to them, a weight felt like it was lifted off of their soldiers. They were finally able to relax after spending two weeks fighting, shooting, and sleeping on the fucking ground.

"How's work, Ella?" Price asked after taking a sip.

"It's good. Have a new girl that started two weeks ago. She's nice.. quiet, but nice," she giggled.

"So, like L.T., huh?" Johnny teased, making the others laugh. Even somewhat of a chuckle escaped Simon's lips, although it was muffled by the balaclava.

Everyone knew that Ghost was a quiet man; an intimidating man. If anyone ever got a chance to even be in his presence for more than a minute, they'd say he was a grumpy ass human being, rarely talked, always gave an answer with a hum or a curt nod, and probably was a real ghost since no one had really ever seen his face before. But those who knew Simon well (which was really just 141) would say he was someone who had gone through a lot of shit in his past, he had a good heart and supported his team, and he had incredibly dark humor. Sometimes, making them indulge in one of his awful dad jokes.

So it was truly was funny that Johnny made the joke about Ella's coworker being like him; quiet. He even knew that he really was.

"She just moved here from America cause of family. I tried to get her to come have a drink, but she said she had something to do," Ella said, "Maybe next time you guys can meet her."

They all hummed and continued sipping on their drinks, letting the thoughts of the mission slip further and further away from their minds until they had to think about it at a later time. Ella talked about a few things about work, which was always good for them to listen... at least they didn't have to talk about their own work.

**************************************************************************

When Simon made it home, the first thing he did was unpack his duffle bag with his gear in it. From the hard-shell skull mask he wore to his toothbrush, everything was put back in its place before he stripped out of his clothes and turned the water on in the shower. While it needed time to at least get warm, he glanced at his body in the bathroom mirror. The dark purple bruises that covered his left shoulder and the side of his abs made his pale skin look odd. Well, it was definitely odd to anyone else, but for him, he was used to coming back home with cuts and bruises all the time. No bullet at least, he thought, remembering the last time he came home with bandages on the same shoulder from when he caught a stray bullet on the last mission. Being what he was - who he was - came at the cost of injuries and pain. He was lucky that death hadn't caught up to him since the last time he thought he was going to die years ago. But it was the life he chose.

No. It was the life that chose him.

Sighing, he stepped into the shower, allowing the warm water from the shower to encase all over his head, face, and body. It was... peaceful in a way. The only time he ever got to really think about anything in his life was the time he would take a shower after coming back from a mission. Each second he washed the grime and dirt off of his body with the wood-scented soap, he thought about his past. He thought about his family - or the lack thereof. Family. A touchy subject that he tended to stay away from. Hardly anyone knew about what happened to them; their deaths. And he kept it that way. It wasn't because of doing what he did after he found their bodies... it was just something that he had no desire to even bring up... with anyone.

After his shower, he could have gone to bed, but sleep was never easy for the man. Once he dried off and put on some sweatpants to cover his lower half, he walked outside on his patio and sat in the chair. He tossed a pack of cigarettes and a lighter on the small table that he brought out with him before leaning back in the chair and gazing up at the sky. It was a clear, cool, and breezy night. He should have put on a jacket, but for some reason, the temperature didn't faze him. If he squinted just right enough, he thought he could see the stars that shone through the streetlights in the town. It was peaceful, silent, and lonely. But he didn't complain. He liked being alone. There were times when he couldn't understand how Kyle and Ella had been together for as long as they had. Through the tough missions and long deployments, he thought she would have left him a long time ago. But it wasn't like he could really understand either... he had never been in a real relationship before. Choosing to have one night stands - usually while he was on leave - was something he had grown accustomed to. Especially because it didn't muddle things up. No feelings were attached, and he didn't have to worry about seeing the girl again.

Pulling out a cigarette from the packet, Simon stuck it between his lips and grabbed the lighter, flicking it to light the cig. The nicotine engulfed his lungs immediately as he inhaled, enjoying the feeling of it going straight to his brain. He knew smoking was a bad habit, but it was one he had yet to even attempt to try and break. Between the stress of missions and being a Lieutenant, the only outlet he had outside of work was a cigarette in his mouth with a glass of bourbon in his hand. Sometimes, he'd watch a football game or rugby match, or he'd listen to his collection of music on the turntable he bought from an old man who was getting rid of some junk. But tonight, he just welcomed the quietness of the air, smoking his cigarette until he finished it. It was going to be a challenge, but he eventually made his way to bed, laying down as he stared up at the ceiling. By some miracle, after an hour, rest seemed to fall over him as he closed his eyes and drifted off into a dreamless but deep sleep.

The next morning, he was refreshed. His morning cup of tea bringing him back to life a little more as he cooked breakfast for himself. It was nothing special, just bacon and eggs, but it was enough for him. And once he finished eating, he showered and got dressed before heading out to buy groceries. He'd be home for at least the next two months, so stocking up the pantry was better than eating out every single day, even if he could afford it.

He decided to stop in the cafe that was close to his home to pick up another tea to take while he shopped. He enjoyed their take on the simple tea he usually made at home, so he thought, why not? When he stepped inside, the place was somewhat busy, but no one was standing in line, which was great; he could get his drink and leave. But there was one thing that caught his attention. The flustered and in a hurry woman who was shifting her weight on her feet as she waited for her drink to be called out.

You.

As always, you were in a hurry to get to work. Flustered because once again you forgot your umbrella. You slightly cursed the invisible weatherman that seemed to have told you it wouldn't rain today just because last night it was clear. Simon was somewhat surprised to see you again, not that he was purposely looking for you, but there definitely was an awkward interaction the last time he saw you. You basically walked backward into him, stepping on his boot by accident. But god, that soft smile you gave him made his eyebrows draw together a bit. Hardly anyone smiled at him the way you did.. mostly out of embarrassment, but he didn't need to know that.

When he walked up to the cashier, he could have sworn he felt a gaze on him. Your gaze. And once he placed his order and paid, he turned around, confirming his suspicion that you had been staring at him. Your eyes cutting away, embarrassed for even looking at him. When he walked over to you - the same spot where customers waited for their drinks to be finished - you wanted the ground to swallow you up. At first, you weren't sure if that was the same man you bumped into a couple of weeks ago in the cafe, but the moment he turned around and you saw the black surgical mask over the lower half of his face, your face turned so red. His brown eyes locking on to yours for a brief second made your pulse quicken.

Thank god, your latte was called out, making you scurry over to the counter to grab it before rushing out of the cafe, not even being brave enough to look at him again. It wasn't like Simon had plans to talk to you anyway, but he did think it was slightly entertaining. Maybe one day, if he saw you again, he'd tell you there was no need to feel embarrassed about the awkwardness between you.

Wait, why did he think that?

It wasn't like you two knew each other, but he didn't like the feeling of making you feel super uncomfortable if he could help it. And that was odd. It made his mind draw a blank for a split second before he internally shook his head. Still, his drink order was called out and he grabbed it before heading to the store.

What do we think about chapter 2? Still not sure about details on how I want to go with this. I have ideas but let me know if yall are still liking this after this chapter lol! This is going to be a SLOW BURN so just know it's gonna take a while for reader and Simon to develop feelings :)

Taglist: @simp-4-masked-men @dayrin085 @jessicab1991 @kylies-love-letter @kalypsoox @brownlee-22 @firefoxkairan

#cod mw2 #simon riley #simon riley female #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #cod mwii #cod mw ghost #call of duty #ghost riley #ghost simon riley #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost fluff #simon x reader #simon riley cod #ghost call of duty #mw2 ghost #cod ghost

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thefriendlyferretwriter · 1 day

Text

Weasel

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Ravenclaw!F!Reader

Summary: A back and forth with the infamous Fred Weasley sends the two nemeses into a back-and-forth that lands them in detention, where both their frustration and anger send them into a deep argument full of insults, tension, and revelations.

Warning: LONG, 8k words, lots of scene cuts becuz a LOT happens, rivals to lovers (not really, Fred's obsessed with reader and is a little shit), boy pulls on the pigtails of the girl he claims he dislike type trope, was forced to give reader at least a last name, same for her best friend ( went with one of the most generic name Tiffany), Fred being a little shit, argument, tension, reader is unhinged

A/N: Fun fact about this fic it almost included a Pygmy Puff before I checked and discovered that they were created by the twins for their shop and since they are still students I had to go and swap it up with a baby puffskein. No idea how to describe that fic, there will definitely be multiple parts, enjoy!

There are no other places like Hogwarts.

The scenery, the castle's secrets, and the yearly competition between houses are something to behold.

But what might be icing on the cake is the library. The place where I can lose track of time all the while learning about the magical world.

The library has a hush rule but you can't help the coughs, the few ink pots falling to the ground, or even the giggles here and there but it doesn't bother me one bit, it even helps me focus as I enjoy yet one more day in the castle.

"Hi there Raven."

And there goes my enjoyment.

With a roll of my eye, I direct them toward the annoying voice belonging to none other than Fred Weasley who stands there with his satchel on his side leaning against one of the book-filled shelves.

"Weasel," I acknowledge him with a sigh looking back down at my page.

"Weasley," he corrects drily.

I brush him off as I finish my inked sentence and wait for it to dry before turning the page and asking him what he's doing here.

He leans on the table by his hip and crosses his arms inclining his head towards me, "What is it to you?"

"You being here is a bad omen so either you're here to sell your stupid stuff to the first years," I say glancing at his sachel for a second before looking back down at my work, "Or it involves annoying me and I'm having a good day to waste it dealing with you today."

I don't look at him and instead focus on my next sentence when I hear some shuffling and a piece of rolled-up parchment drops next to me that I recognize all too well.

"You must be kidding me," I groan snatching the parchment from the table.

"Unfortunately no. McGonagall benched me and said that if I wanted to stay on the quidditch team I needed a tutor."

His speech makes me groan as the lines reiterate his rant in a distinguished manner and is signed at the bottom by Professor Flitwick.

"McGonagall sent me to Flitwick who recommended you. Said you needed tutoring on your record."

I let go of the paper and join my hands together placing my thumbs on the base of my nose to try and diminish the incoming headache.

"Soo," he draws out attracting my gaze, "See you later, I'll be waiting for your owl."

I see him walking backward, all cocky as he dares to wink at me before turning around and descending the spiral stairs.

I audibly scoff and slam my notebook closed.

Yet another day ruined by that damn Weasel.

"He's a pest."

"You're exaggerating again," she laughs at me standing up from her seat.

"No, I'm not!" I say shoving the last book in my bag as class just ended, "He's obnoxious and annoying and a nuisance to my peace," I stand up and follow right after her.

It's been a few days since my unfortunate meeting with the least likable Weasley in the library and the meeting with Professor Flitwick and McGonagall this early morning couldn't have gotten any worse since no amount of pleading on my part could get them not to assign me with him. As a supplement I had the redhead walk in on me pleading which had him reveling at my misery digging me into a deeper foul mood.

"He's a funny guy that sometimes goes too far," she says pushing a chair that wasn't tucked under its assigned table.

"He's the bane of my existence," I say full of venom.

She laughs walking toward the classroom's exit," That's romantic."

"No, saying someone is the bane of your existence isn't romantic."

"I'm sure you could turn it into something romantic, like a poem or a book about forbidden love," she daydream walking through the door.

"You read too many romance books," I say stepping outside the classroom when I freeze and feel like I'm going underwater as my body is iced out for a moment.

It feels as if I've been hit with glacius but I'm able to use my voice and squeal in shock as the feeling subsides and I'm brought back from my shock by two giggles.

I see two first-year Gryffindors laughing nervously before they simultaneously decide to run away, one of them letting loose on her wand that was levitating the bucket letting it fall on the ground with a loud clash.

I'm left in the middle of the open hallway surrounded by classmates who just exited their class.

The wind hits me and I feel my body shiver before I look up at my friend whose mouth is covered by her hands in surprise.

I hear it.

The annoying infuriating sound of distant laughter, one I cannot mistake for another.

My eyes zero on him sitting on the transfiguration courtyard's tree clutching his stomach as he laughs balancing himself on the branch.

"You were saying?" I ask her rhetorically still dripping in the pink-colored jelly-like liquid.

She lowers her hands and approaches me slowly trying to wipe my face.

I feel the bubbling of rage making its way up my throat with my breathing taking up seeing him seated up there on the branch looking like a king sitting upon the throne of his buffoonery surrounded by his brainless friends, or rather, George's brainless friends and it makes me snap.

I push her hand away and stomp my way through the hallway onto the courtyard's grass toward him.

"Weasley!" I yell as I march to him.

"Oh, now she remembers my name," he laughs out loud for his twin and his friends to hear as the number of students stopping by increases.

He slides off the branch with ease and starts strutting to me with this damn cocky smile.

George stands up from his leaning stance on the tree, "Fred," he says.

I don't know if it's a warning or a scolding but his intent doesn't matter to me.

My hearing is replaced with the beats of my heart drumming in my ears as my face feels as hot as lava.

My steps get bigger and bigger and the closer his infuriating smirk approaches, the rage escapes me as my hand swings back and closes into a fist before landing in his face mid-step.

The audible hit is met with a groan and while I'm far too small to send him to the ground with a punch it does send him swaying back and hunching over.

In a second George jogs to his twin and hands him support grabbing his elbow as Fred's groan turns into another one of his annoying chuckles.

"You see how she hit me?!" he shouts looking delighted by the situation before he lays his gaze back on me with a bit of blood on his teeth.

His smirk falls and I believe for a moment that I finally did it, I finally managed to instate fear in this jackass before I realize his gaze moved from my frame to someone behind me.

The buzzing in my ears ceases and my hearing comes back to me as the grass crunches under one's weight indicating someone approaching.

A cold sweat travels through my body when I turn around and spot none other than Professor Hooch standing tall in front of us.

By instinct, I take a step back and bump into Fred before jumping aside as if he burnt me which isn't far off as my knuckles are calling out for help burning and tingling from the impact it had on his cheek.

She sends us both one of her infamous hawk looks that could petrify Dumbledor himself, "I presume that display of violence can be explained by your appearance?" her pointed look is directed at me.

I try to wipe the substance off my hair with an annoyed huff.

Her eyes travel to Fred whose head is pointed down grabbing his chin and messing with his mouth moving his jaw from side to side.

"That rewards the both of you with an hour's detention," that answer makes him groan and I point at him with outrage.

"But he-!" My disbelief doesn't reach her before she cuts me off.

"You're both dismissed. Mr.Weasley, I advise you to escort your brother to the infirmary to tend to his injury. As for you, I advise you to go clean yourself up before heading to the infirmary as well, perhaps at a time Mr.Weasley won't be there," she finishes her sentence looking at George who acknowledges her insinuation with a nod.

Still clutching his jaw, Fred is led away by his elbow by George as Hooch walks to stand in front of me, "While I understand your frustration I did expect better from you than violence."

My eyes widen and the breath I take in is cut off, "He-"

"This isn't about Mr.Weasley's childish behavior, he will receive his punishment either way. What disappoints me is that you could've avoided any punishment by reporting this to me or any other professor in the area but instead, you will ecope of an hour's detention as well."

She says shaking her head as she walks away leaving me standing here in the courtyard covered in the substance and an aching fist that doesn't even feel satisfying knowing it didn't teach the jerk anything.

"Why is it so windy today?! I thought it was supposed to be sunny!" I complain trying to be louder than the wind.

"No it's supposed to switch all day, look," my friend says motioning to the daily prophet in her hands bringing the paper closer to my face so I can see the weather section indeed announcing an insufferable change of weather all day.

"You can still spot the puddles from the rain earlier," Luna Lovegood points to the Quidditch pitch where the grass is still two shades darker and the random puddles of water stir with strength from the wind blowing.

My venting is interrupted by a loud collision that sends me twisting around back to the pitch to see Gryffindor and Ravenclaw teammates fighting over the quaffle like rabid dogs in what is supposed to be an amicable match as a form of training.

"Remind me again what's the point of an amicable match if there is no amicability?" I ask turning to face them just to miss the apparent goal from a Gryffindor through one of the Ravenclaw's lowest hoops.

I groan when I recognize the face of the person who managed to pass our defenses as he basks in the small victory.

"What is it raven?! Can't take in the sigh of greatness?!" he gloats seated comfortably on his broom with his red hair all tussled.

His pretentiousness blinds him and his arrogance leaves him to ignore the whistle suggesting the match continues and leaves a fellow Ravenclaw to score in a flash right behind him. The only indicator that anything happened at all is the small thunder of applause and shouts of approval coming from the small gathering of students who decided to kill time and participate in the amicable match to cheer each team on.

His head whips around and the sight of the opposite team scoring sends him tilting his head back with a groan that he tries to conceal but it doesn't escape anyone's notice.

The karma is enough but it is so rare to catch the weasel in one of his life life-learning moments that I don't hesitate before deciding that I need to add my little grain of salt to the wound.

I have it, I have the perfect response to give him right on the tip of my tongue and I wonder for a second if the smirk grazing my lips isn't a giveaway but my witty taunt is stopped when a broom enters my line of vision.

"See?! I told you your presence would do me good. Look at that, bullseye!"

I'm sure he means no harm, I know him to be humble but the poor lad either didn't see Weasley or simply decided to ignore his presence.

The fact that he is being ignored after being wrecked is sickly satisfying and my smirk manages to widen somehow.

It is clear he simply didn't see Fred as this one's scowl sends him silently flying away in an awkward, one-sided staredown that ends with him glancing at me with an uncomfortable wide-eyed stare, silently asking for help.

I stare at him flying further and further away and only look back when I notice George approaching his twin on his broom.

His frustration is clear and the eye roll along with his head thrown back pleases me a great deal.

The devilish idea is too good and it doesn't take a lot of self-convincing before I fall for temptation.

"What is it Weasel, too busy drowning in your own ego you can't pay attention?!" I shout so my sickly honeyed voice reaches him and George as I tuck my now pastel pink hair behind my ears.

'The concoction should last less than a week. This Flemont Potter was a genius!' nurse Pomfrey said.

The scowl adorning his face fills me with warmth and electricity buzzes through my veins knowing I have the last word for once.

"Nice hair," he tries himself at a desperate dig that does not work as Professor Hooch whistles for him to fly back to the match.

Turning his back to me, he flies back to the center of the field I can't help but laugh realizing that it's the first time he turns his back to me without walking away with the last word.

The whistle is blown and the speed at which each team goes at the other's throat could cause whiplash if one wasn't used to it.

I'm focused on a group of players when my peripheral vision drags my eyes to my friend throwing the quaffle with all his strength leaving another small group of three players to speed away.

Taking a moment to take in his throw he looks back down and waves at me with a smile, satisfied with his play.

I wave back with a grin of my own before he disappears out of my sight as a bludger hits him straight in the back of the head with a resounding thunk throwing him off his broom and crashing to the ground.

I hear a loud yell and realize it comes from me as my body instinctively reacts and bolts toward the pitch.

Professor Hooch is already by his side by the time I run to his limp self.

"Is he okay?!" I get caught off guard by my friend reaching him and kneeling at his side before I do.

I stand there looking down at him in shock as people start surrounding the area trying to take a look at the wounded on the ground when I notice the Gryffindor team lowering themselves on the ground including the culprit.

His quidditch robe swings with each one of his steps as he walks towards the commotion very slowly like in a trance.

"You too bring a stretcher," she says shooing away both a Gryffindor and a Ravenclaw player.

I hear George Weasley calling after his brother who has now reached Professor Hooch kneeling on the ground

"Is he okay?"

How dare he. His filthy meek voice asking about his well-being as if he isn't the reason my friend is lying unresponsive on the ground.

That familiar boiling sensation in my chest rises again and I feel my fists clenching by themselves.

Before I can comprehend my thought process I am bolting toward him. Still, before I can reach him George jumps in front of him getting ready for whatever, a whatever that does not come as I am held up by the waist by two Gryffindor players sensing the hostility.

"What is wrong with you!" I holler up in the air struggling with all my might against the hold of the chasers which is useless against the player's strength.

The rest is a blur, George pushes the douche towards the locker room as I follow the stretcher closely to the infirmary.

"If you stare any harder you're gonna be the first third year student here to achieve wandless magic," she chuckles "It's you! You did this!" he yells shoving me back and sending me stumbling on the ground probably trying to get me as dirty as he is. back down at her textbook.

"False," I utter not leaving the weasel out of my burning stare.

I notice her raising her head from my side view in wonder.

"Granger," I state chewing on my thumb's fingernail.

The sight of him simply sitting there without any consequences under the excuse of 'it's part of the game, nobody can prove there were any malicious intents behind that strike' drives me mad and haunts my head with multiple scenarios of murder that keep replaying again and again.

"You have to let it go. Pomfresh said he'll be fine."

"He didn't deserve that strike it was targeted to piss me off because I got the last word," I say wincing when I realize I bit my thumb a bit too hard and drew some blood.

"It's part of Quidditch, many, many people took strikes to the head."

"Bullshit. A strike to the head during an amicable match? Come on," I roll my eyes frustrated that everybody seems so eager to just brush this incident off.

"I'm gonna start thinking you're checking him out and not actually glaring at him."

"Have you lost your mind?!" I say louder than intended, my head whipping left to glare at her this time.

There is no silence as the Care for the Magical Creature class takes place outside and the lack of chatter is covered up by the sound of wind rustling the nearest tree's leaves and the distant purrs and grumbles of the different creatures in their pen.

"Is there a problem?"

Unlike McGonagall or Snape, Professor Hagrid's tone of voice isn't accusatory but genuinely one of concern. This concern eats at me as the idea that he might believe even for a moment that my words are targeted towards him makes bile rise in my throat.

"No!" is my immediate response to reassure the professor but the rest of my explanation seems to be stuck in my throat as I have a hard time imagining myself explaining to the class that I was just defending myself at the mention of me hypothetically checking Weasley out.

That same person here in the open classroom with a side smirk plastered on his annoying face trying his best not to laugh at me, not because it would be rude but because not laughing at the right time alongside the rest of the class wouldn't be as satisfying as a full-on public humiliation.

I see Hagrid lowering his chalk and I can already foresight him asking what he might have done wrong which is not something you want to ask as a teacher in front of a bunch of ruthless teenagers.

His other hand joins in on the other starting to mess with his chalk making him appear anxious and way less mighty.

The awkwardness doesn't begin to measure to the remorse of having put him in this situation because of my impulsive nature.

"It's my fault!" my friend shouts in my defense.

Looking at her, Tiffany managed to snatch up a baby puffskein and hold it up to Hagrid's sight.

"I put him in her hair and she was afraid he would do a pooh."

The laughs are inevitable but I'm certain the 'do a pooh' will haunt my nightmare.

The mocking is a harmony of taunting and I can only look beside me to glare at her sitting there with the puffskein in hand as I wish he would just 'do a pooh' in her hands this instant.

At least Professor Hagrid seems reassured, smiles as the misunderstanding is cleared up, and turns back around to continue the lesson.

We're sent to different enclosures containing different creatures and are instructed to feed them to create a bond.

"Look at him acting casual as if he didn't send someone to the infirmary with a trauma to the head," I say full of venom seeing him being buddy-buddy with another Gryffindor girl as they try to feed Mooncalf in the open and have a laugh as they are surrounded by the eager herd starving for pets and seeds.

"Will you quit it and enjoy one of the only course that's relaxing here," she scolds kneeling closer to the ground to feed a diricawl who nibs at her finger affectionately before walking past her hand and pitter-pattering to her to lay his head on her chest to receive pats on his head.

"Plus you've already been told we can't know if the blow was on purpose."

"That's a load of bullshit and you know it, he's one of the best beaters here," I say with a pointed look at her throwing a violent handful of seeds towards the rest of the diricawls.

"Did I just hear you compliment Fred Weasley?" she says looking up at me with a teasing smile.

"It's not a compliment I'm just stating a fact, the probability of Weasley hitting someone right on the head by accident at such distance is close to none," I say throwing another handful as my eyes catch a paddock with dubogs in it, one in particular who is devouring the weasel with his bulgy eyes.

There are three dubogs in the small paddock and two of them are cooling off in the dirty pond uninterested in anything else but sunbathing with only their eyes above the murky water blinking one at a time as the third one is eating up Weasley with his eyes.

A devilish idea makes its way into my head. The opening I get is served to me on a gold platter as Tiffany is distracted by the herd of diricawl overtaking her landing her on the ground, surrounded.

My chance is heightened by Weasley's back turned to me talking with his little girlfriend.

I take my chance disregarding any rational thought invading my head. Sneakily climbing over the fence, I crouch and walk toward the desired enclosure. The creature doesn't seem to sense me approaching and if he does he doesn't seem to care one bit licking his eye and pawing the ground with his hind leg.

A part of me wishes I could egg him on and ask him if he wants to nibble on the Weasel's ankles but I'd rather not throw my plan out of the window. Instead, I carefully slide my arm to the latch and pull on it slowly to make sure not to make any noise before giving the door a small push to create the crack that seems to be enough to throw the creature out for a jog as he crashes against the paddock's door.

I don't get to see the seconds before the disaster as I have to hurry back and jump over the fence once again, running back to my friend and free her from the diricawl's clutches giving her a hand and raising her back up as the show starts.

The screams that grace my ears aren't from fear but more from shock as the tall redhead lands on the ground when I finally get to lay my eyes on him. The dubog licks him from bottom to top with the creature's natural dirt and slimey skin rubbing off on him as his Gryffindor girlfriend screeches for help calling for Professor Hagrid who runs up to help in a flash.

The man's height isn't only impressive and intimidating but also a great advantage to grab the massive creature off and drag it back to its enclosure where the other two are still sunk in the water, sunbathing and behaving.

Once shut close, Professor Hagrid grips the wooden bars of the enclosure to gather himself before turning around and helping Weasley up with just one hand gripping the back of his blouse. While he seems shaken up by the encounter, he tries to rub off some of the mud on his face but only manages to smear it looking around at the rest of us.

The reactions vary, some are as shocked as he is and others shrug off their worries and are now laughing at his appearance now that they've established that he is healthy and no longer in danger.

I myself giggle knowing that while I can't get him punished for his action back on the pitch, I get to watch him look like a fool and even up the score. My friend does not agree and lets me know by elbowing me in the ribs making me groan mixing laughter and painful grunts.

Laughter that is spotted by the redhead when his head whips to me before his eyes light up.

His eyes shift from eureka to burning hatred. Shrugging off the hand of his friend trying to tidy him up and storms in my direction.

"It's you! You did this!" he yells shoving me back and sending me stumbling on the ground probably trying to get me as dirty as he is. The confrontation is cut short when Hagrid once again showcases his immeasurable strength by yanking the weasel back with a tug on his now mostly white blouse and throwing him behind his eleven-foot frame that stands now right in front of me.

"Enough with the both of you!" his voice booms in the open area.

He takes a step back and I can get a peak at the redhead enough to see him huffing and puffing from being thrown around like a doll.

"This is a classroom, not a pub. Now the both of you will walk all the way up to Professor McGonagall's office and explain exactly why I had to send the both of you to her and she will be the one to give you your punishment!"

I look at him now, hair disheveled and his tie undone covered in dirt and mud and slime. He still looks somewhat decent as he pushes his hair back with a huff.

I must look just as messy with my pink hair having been thrown on the ground and I decide to tug at the end of my own blouse trying to tidy myself up and avoid any more wrinkles on it.

"Miss Granger, please accompany those two, you know what to do if they misbehave."

"She tried to kill me!" Fred yells pointing at me.

"Do you have any proof, Mr.Weasley?"

He seems to hesitate for less than a second before motioning to me with his hand in frustration.

"It's logical thinking, she hates my gut and she's crazy!"

"You jerk-!" I bellow throwing myself in his direction before I'm engulfed in the Professor's arms.

"Enough!" He yells once more letting me go only when I stop fidgeting in his hold.

"There is no way of proving the Miss did anything. This paddock's lock has been faulty for a while and after this incident, I will personally see that it is dealt with."

He says as if he was addressing the whole class who is still standing all around us watching the event unfold.

"As for the both of you, you will do as you're told and let Miss.Granger accompany the both of you back to the castle and receive the punishment the both of you deserve for the waste of both my time and your classmates' time."

The tone is harsh and the decision is final.

"I am very disappointed in the both of you. You're worth so much more than this petty rivalry," the man shakes his head walking away.

Those words seem to have the same result on both of us. We look down a bit ashamed before we are ushered away by Hermione as we start the long and silent journey back to the castle.

We both stand in silence, side by side with yet a respectable distance as the two professors stand in front of us with judgmental stares that don't need any words to transcribe their distaste…or is it disappointment?

We were sent to our respective bathrooms to clean up 'as best as you can' while my request to wash off completely was denied by both teachers and so here I stand with the back of my blouse tainted by dirt as Weasley could barely wash the slimy texture out of his own blouse and barely dry it with what I believe might have been a spell.

And so here he stands looking dirtier than me despite the order to clean up.

"Now that the awful stench has been managed I believe a proper punishment is in order," McGonagall says with her hands joined in front of her.

"I agree, my cauldrons are in dire need of a scrub," Snape says with his usual disinterested tone.

Weasley starts protesting and claims that I should receive a harsher punishment for my so-called actions.

"She tried to kill me!" he protests.

"And as I told you Mr.Weasley there is no way for us to possibly prove this claim as Professor Hagrid did not see any of this unravel."

"Just like no one saw you throw that bulger." I bite under my breath.

"Exactly Miss.Hermlock. And I would suggest you speak with your full chest if you have any objection." Mc.Gonagall drily berates me.

"Snape-Professor Snape," he quickly corrects himself, "said multiple times that in such cases veritaserum should be used, and since she's SO confident saying she didn't do anything she won't mind doing this, won't she," he says towering over my side.

"I've always known you were a moron but I never thought you would outdo yourself in front of teachers," I smirk crossing my arms.

"Mr.Weasley, even with Miss.Hermlock's permission, the usage of such beverage on a student is forbidden. I would've hoped that with a father working for the ministry, you out of all of us would remember that."

My smirk doubles in size which I thought would never be possible.

In the end, my smirk is wiped away when we are both awarded two hours of detention with Snape. And as if it wasn't enough the punishment is cleaning the endless potion class's cauldrons.

We're ordered to go clean up, thoroughly this time and go for lunch before being expected in the dungeons for our detention hours.

We arrive at the same time just as the last student exits the class, we are left standing side by side, or more precisely 3 feet away from each other as we walk in right in front of Snape's office where he is seated with his head down to his paper purposely stalling and letting us stand there in awkward silence.

What must've been minutes feel like hours as I try my best not to side-eye the redhead standing silently beside me.

I wonder if I should've refrained from opening that damn pen when I hear those continuous scraping of pen meant to insult us as the dark-haired teacher ignore our presence.

He finally puts his feather back in its inkwell before he stands resting both his hands on his desk, "I believe I don't have to remind you what you need to do during those two hours of detention."

Neither of us answers and that seems to egg him on to stand straight and walk around his desk to stand right in front of us, his hands placed behind him.

"You two will clean every single cauldron here, I made sure none of my classes cleaned their equipment to make sure the lesson will stick and you won't have to keep me company again on such a fine day," he says bending to my height and looking straight into my eyes for just a moment before moving his sight onto Weasley, "At least one of you will learn."

Standing back up his speech is interrupted by strong stomps getting closer.

Turning around, the three of us look towards the class's entrance as we spot for a single second a figure sliding across the entrance and disappearing with a loud thud that sounds painful.

It is the first time I make eye contact with the weasel since the last time we butted heads and it is to share a sour scrunched-up expression for the victim of the fall who we hear grunting in the hallway before the sound of their footsteps echoes once more and we see the face of the one who rushed here most likely to speak to Snape.

He's bent over leaning on the door out of breath.

"Berkshire, if you're done fooling around you may grace us with an explanation as to why you're disturbing this detention."

Still out of breath, Enzo Berkshire huffs and puffs for a few more seconds before settling down still bent over.

"It's Nott," he exhales deeply before breathing in once more, "He and Wood started a brawl between quidditch teams, Hooch told me to come get you."

Turning back to the teacher, his eye roll is noticeable and his silence is an obvious assessment of the situation as he probably is planning what to do now that he is torn between us two and the alleged brawl.

"Alright, As the head teacher of house Slytherin, I will accompany Berkshire and assist Professor Hooch in this conflict."

He points to us, "As for the two of you. You will stay here and complete your detention without any complaints. If you leave before your time is up, I will know and that will reward you an entire week of detention."

Pointing at Berkshire, Snape walks past us and orders him to lead them away and with a flick of his wand makes it known that it is thanks to that maneuver that he'll know of us potentially leaving the classroom.

"Behave." is all he says before walking right behind a speeding Enzo Berkshire.

I wonder if he was referring to the both of us or maybe just Weasley.

I don't get to ponder on that before my thoughts are drawn elsewhere at the realization that my worst nightmare is unfolding before me, I am now stuck with the most insufferable student here for two hours doing the most aggravating task besides cleaning the house bathrooms.

I only get back to reality when I hear him throw his robe and satchel on a nearby station.

Being left alone with him, the task at hand, and the absence of Snape to muzzle the redhead angers me as I frop my own bag and stomp to one of the sinks filled to the brim with dirty cauldrons.

I don't even get to enjoy a full minute of tense peace as the douchebag starts his usual yapping.

"Can't say I'm surprised he would leave me alone with you, Snape has always hated me and it's no wonder he left me with you considering you tried to kill me," he mouths off as always lifting a cauldron from its stove and piling it on top of another one.

"And yet you're still breathing, what a shame." I roll my eyes as well as my sleeves picking up a scraper.

A moment of silence passes and I pray this is the moment he realizes he needs to shut up so we can endure the rest of this detention in mild peace but alas this is a good idea and everyone knows that Frederick Weasley never had one of those in his life.

"Damn. The sorting hat must've made a mistake, maybe you belong with the other psychopaths in Slytherin." He throws both cauldrons beside the filled sink with a loud clang.

"I'm sorry but I'm not the one cladding the scales." I bite back.

"Oh, she has claws," he draws out loudly, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

"What is wrong with you?" I ask genuinely turning around to face him.

"No, the question is what is wrong with you," He asks back louder.

"Nothing is wrong with me! You're the one who can't figure out when to stop, you're the one who always goes too far and you're the one who went too far once again, so much so that you ended up sending my friend to the infirmary!" I hurl and see him losing that fire that usually overtakes his pupils showing he enjoys egging on people once they are set off.

"It's the risk when you play Quidditch," he tries and fails to sound firm in his statement making me scoff.

"For Rowena's sake, you're still acting as if you didn't purposely throw that bulger at him!" I say running my hands through my hair in frustration.

"I didn't!" he says even less believable.

Done with his excuses I turn back around to give all my attention back to the dirty cauldrons when he manages to slide between me and the sink making me take a huge step back.

"I didn't mean to throw it that hard."

I stare at him, no, I glare at him feeling the urge to punch him again but I remember that it didn't do anything for me the last time and instead opt to let out my frustration by hollering at him and walking away before I make the mistake of punching him and have a Professor magically appear out of nowhere to give me more detention again.

Even when I think I finally win and have him admit to his wrongs he still finds a way to make excuses for himself.

"What were you expecting?! I'm a beater that's what we do!"

Does he really think I don't know what a bloody beater is?!

Is he trying to make me pass off as an emotional wreck because of my appropriate reaction to such injury during a supposed amicable match?!

Any beater whether amateur or professional could agree that either maliciously or not that throw was unwarranted during training.

"There really is something wrong with you," I walk right in front of him, toe to toe, and spite my statement right in his face pushing him aside to gain back access to the sink.

I start scrubbing as my mind throws all the different reasons I despise the fucker. Irresponsible, unfunny, no compassion.

I'm so lost in my spiteful analysis of him that I don't register that my thoughts aren't my own anymore as I unconsciously start rambling out loud.

"An idiot who doesn't even think before taking people down with him," I grumble scrubbing away.

"Come on now it's not like he's dead," He nips throwing down yet another pile of small cauldrons beside me.

"I'm talking about me!" I yell letting go of my current task and letting the pot fall and clang with another one causing a ruckus in the sink.

"Not only is my friend in the infirmary because of you but I'm also stuck with you trying to teach someone who I learned has never been slacking in muggle history before recently."

His jaw slacks open and his eyes double in size like the breakfast sausages I had this morning.

"Wait a minute. You think I'm doing this on purpose?!"

You do everything on purpose! Your dad works for the ministry, he is a Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office employee dammit! If anyone is an expert at muggle stuff it's your dad!" I say as a matter of fact.

"And tell me exactly what would it bring me to purposely be bad at this subject all of a sudden?"

"Oh I don't know, maybe to annoy me more often than usual." it sounds like a question but I know I'm just clarifying the situation.

"You think I'm gonna waste my days stuck with you in the library acting dumb for fun?" he tries to ask sarcastically.

"And why not? Beside the library part isn't that what you do all day anyways?"

The quick wit seems like it struck him as he scoffs with a broad smile.

"If you want to be a failure for the rest of your life go ahead and be my guest but I'll ask you not to take me down with you."

That same disbelief smile disappears and leaves place for a blank look that doesn't often grace his face.

"Unlike what you think, success doesn't necessarily come from academic prowesses." he tries to bite.

"Obviously not when it comes to you." I mock before turning back around feeling satisfied for getting him not once but twice in a row.

The triumphant silence doesn't last long before he dwells in a monologue that I don't bother listening to. Instead, I tune him out and start scrubbing which helps to cover the annoying sound of his voice.

His speech feels like hours long but is probably just a few minutes tangent as by the time my ears recognize his next sentence I'm only done with the first cauldron.

"-With such a nasty attitude it's no wonder Murphy didn't show up to your date."

The cauldron clashes with another as I let it fall back into the abnormally huge sink before turning my head toward the nuisance of my life.

"How do you know about that?" the voice that comes out of my mouth is one I don't recognize.

He pauses and seems to hesitate.

"Heard Katie talk about it to her friend."

"I never said anything about it to Katie, 'matter of fact I never said anything about this date to anyone ever so there's no way you heard this through gossip."

"He told me." he tries again even less believable than the first time.

"Bullshit." I seeth.

It's bluff, while I believe I might know Murphy it's not to say that he isn't just like any other guy and simply good at hiding his real intentions.

He starts ranting about some story I can tell is made up on the spot and it's like the wheels stopped turning and the lightbulb lights up in my head with such intensity that the next words come out of my mouth in a loud realization that echoes his own.

"You did this, It was you!" I accuse him with a rageful glare.

He steps back and rolls his eyes tilting his head back, "Oh my-you know what?! Yeah, I did. I warned the guy and I did well because he deserved better than to be stuck on a date with a stuck-up cunt like you." he finishes his tirade by sticking his index finger in my enraged face.

"You're fucking evil." I spit it like it's a statement everyone agrees upon watching him turn his back to me walking farther away.

My outburst is so intense that I have to take a shaky breath and keep my tears at bay as my better judgment is thrown out the window and I decide to finally pour all my frustration out.

"You know, you always take some sick pleasure in telling me I'm cold-hearted," the beginning of my speech is shakey but I quickly regain strength in my voice to let out all my poison,"But you can't even own up to your own fucking flaws and the fact that you're nothing but a jackass who use your so-called 'pranks' to harass everyone in school because they know better to be friends with an asshole like you who's only friend is his twin because no one else wants to be around you!"

My rant is over and the only noise filling the space is my heavy breathing. Catching my breath I feel hot and can barely focus on anything other than my heart beating in my ears as I feel my boiling blood travel all through my body as I stare dead into the eyes of the one who brought me to such an extent of anger.

When my heart settles and I can finally hear my breathing slow down I can focus solely on him and realize that his stare is dead.

He's not glaring, he's just looking. All trace of anger is gone and he's left staring at me or rather through me with dead eyes.

I seem to have struck a nerve and for once the guy doesn't have a comeback. Instead, I'm rewarded with the shoulder shove of a six-foot-something figure who passes me to walk to the sink and starts scrubbing away…

What the heck?

The feeling of regret invades me for a moment but is quickly replaced by one of annoyance.

Why should I feel regret? It's not like he ever feels regret for the horrible things he does. He never apologizes to anyone no matter how far he crosses the line.

The regret quickly fades and I instead let the small spot of confidence inside me grow. It's the first time I've ever shut the mouth of the biggest jerk there is, why shouldn't I enjoy it as long as it lasts?

After everything, I'm entitled to this. I'm entitled to twist the knife.

I take a first careful step and then a second, more confident one closer to him and the sink.

"Yeah, I might be a cold-hearted bitch. But you're an arrogant jackass who's not even funny." I say more calmly yet still petty.

"Oh piss off!" he shouts throwing the cauldron back into the sink with a smash that I wonder might have actually shattered or maybe chipped one of them.

I jump aside to avoid another shoulder shove and follow him with my eyesight to spot him grabbing his stuff and realize he is trying to escape this detention to avoid my lash-out.

Figuring out his plan I catch up and run past him to stand in front of the door blocking his way out.

"No! No, You called me what you called me and now I get to call you whatever I want!"

I wonder for a moment why he doesn't push past me, for sure his frame can easily overpower mine but instead of crashing into me to walk out of the potion class he instead turns around and throws both robe and satchel on a station with a shout that almost rivals mine.

"Alright then let's go ahead, get it all out of your system sweetheart." He snarls standing in the middle of the class, his arms expanded before he places them on his hips.

"You!" the bitter tone escapes me in a rough huff as I point at him, "Have done nothing but make my life hell since the day I arrived." I start walking towards him, "And for what? I have NEVER given you any reason to hate me and yet I have been the target of so many of your pranks that I started being known as the damn Weasley's guinea pig!" I throw my finger in his direction before it falls back on my sides as I walk slowly but with conviction towards him.

"There we go!" he says faking being proud probably to egg me on in my rant with a sick smirk bending down to my eye level and crossing his arms probably to toy with me and undermine me as he always does.

"You do nothing at school but be a nuisance and waste everyone's time including mine and it's so sick to think that you can't even let others be successful just because you can't achieve anything on your own, it's pathetic!" I'm getting closer, almost toe to toe with the redhead who doesn't take a step back and stays planted where he stands or rather is bent over.

"Come on let it all out," he snarls.

"But somehow I was still stupid enough to think that this time you would have the decency to at least admit you went too far and apologize for hurting my friend but even then you cannot take responsibility as always," I finish my tirade taking my final step right in front of him as our noses brush.

"Anything else?!" he angrily spits in my face with a scowl.

I breathe in harshly wishing I could punch him or clap back like I did before but realize if my rant hasn't aroused all kinds of empathy it is useless to keep calling him names it won't male a difference.

"Yeah, your attempt to make me look ugly by turning my hair pink completely failed because I still look good unlike you," I say sourly throwing a glance at his mop of hair.

He sneers.

His arms that were crossed in front of him manage to travel up and brush strands of hair behind my ears before his fingers slide down and twirl the locks in his hands toying with them.

When I'm done bathing in the hatred coating his eyes I notice I'm not the only one panting when I feel his breath brush my face.

Why is he panting? I'm the one who just rambled angrily for five minutes.

"Got it all out?" he says calmer this time around.

I look at him and my eyes make the mistake of switching between his eyes and lips just a second to see his doing just the same and analyze my face.

We haven't moved from our spot and I don't know why.

"Yeah, I think so," he whispers his lips brushing over mine with each syllable.

He stands back up, his hands leaving my hair and falling back to his side as he brushes past me leaving me to stand there frozen trying to comprehend the goosebumps littering my body and my hands shaking by my hips.

I manage to turn around and see him grabbing his stuff and making his way to the class entrance once more.

I find my voice, less confident than before but still strong enough to try and stop him.

"What are you doing detention isn't over yet!" I begrudgingly state.

"Then I guess I'll get a week's worth of detention!" he announces walking out with one hand clutching his satchel and the other one throwing his robe over his shoulder.

He's gone, and in the newly found silence, I breathe out through my nose and assess what just happened.

Weasley just mocked me, pissed me off and egged me on, undermined me, and left me in a classroom filled to the brim with cauldrons to clean all by myself after toying with my anger, my hair, and…

My hand bolts into fists and my nails sink into my palms as I conclude what I already know.

I hate him.

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #ennemies to lovers #rivals to lovers

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emeraldjuns · 2 days

Text

Fairy Tale

genre: fairy king jun x human reader warnings: none, unless you count mentions of reincarnations

synopsis: on a visit to the forest you frequented as a child, you meet a fairy who says he has been waiting for you. after that, you can't shake off the fact that he is very, very familiar.

word count: 4.5k (not proofread)

if you like my fics, please consider reblogging, thank you!

p.s. sorry for the horrible photo editing bc i'm a hoshi when it comes to this ;-; but at least jun's pretty face makes up for it...right?

Near your childhood home, there was a forest with a beautiful lake inside. Back when you were younger, you would spend your days with your siblings swimming in the lake, running around playing hide-and-seek among the trees, and enjoying picnics while the wind blew gently around you.

Now you were older, and the forest was just merely a place for you to reminisce about your childhood memories. You had moved to another city for work, and even when you returned to visit your parents, you hardly ever went back into the forest.

Until one day, you were exhausted. Work had been stressful and tiring, and all you wanted was some peace and relaxation. So, on a whim, you took a day off work and drove two hours back home to visit the forest, in the hopes you would find the peace you needed there.

Soon enough, you found yourself at the lake. You bent down, running your fingertips over the cool surface. You sighed into the silence around you, relishing in the quiet you had yearned for for a while.

Until someone’s voice cut through the peace.

“I haven’t seen you in years.”

Quickly, you shot up from your position and turned around. A man was standing a few metres away from you, studying you. You took notice of a pair of shining blue gossamer wings on his back.

“Who…who are you? What do you mean, you haven’t seen me in years?”

He took a step forward, compelling you to step backwards as well. “You always used to visit this forest, did you not? Well, when you were a child, at least.”

A child? He’d seen you before all those years ago? Your heart raced in your chest. Had he been watching you and your siblings play in this very forest all this while? Was he a stalker?

He continued speaking, seemingly unaware of your rising fear. “I was hoping you’d come back. I’ve been waiting for decades. Ah, but then, you probably don’t remember me, do you?”

You couldn’t take it any longer. Realising he was still a decent distance away, you turned in the other direction and ran. You ran as fast as your two legs could carry you, all the way through to the forest’s exit.

You sat in your car, locking the door immediately for fear he might chase after you. Your breaths were laboured, and your heart continued to race in your chest. Never had you thought that someone had been watching you for so many years.

Your hands shook even as you started the engine, preparing to drive home. You couldn’t take your mind off that man. Who was he? Why did he have wings? What did he want with you?

Two hours later, even after you had parked your car safely in the carpark of your apartment complex, your hands were still shaky.

⋆˚✿˖°

“I just thought of something fun.”

“What is it?”

“Let’s race each other to the other side of this lake. Whoever loses has to grant the winner a wish.”

“Alright then, if you say so.”

Just as you watched two figures race each other along the field of grass, your alarm clock rang shrilly, jolting you out of your slumber. Worn out from the adrenaline rush you had yesterday, you dragged yourself out of bed and through to the kitchen to prepare breakfast.

The rest of the day had been the usual: drive through the morning rush hour to the office, work, attend meetings, eat lunch, and back to work again. Before you knew it, evening had rolled around. You decided to just eat dinner from an eatery downstairs instead of cooking at home, and soon you were slurping pasta noodles while admiring the view of a park nearby.

“This pasta is delicious,” you murmured to yourself as you twirled your fork.

“Is it that good?”

“Of course it is. Everything that you cook for me is good.”

“Well, I’m just happy that you like it, my love.”

My love?

You whipped your head around, to see if you had accidentally made conversation with someone without realising, but there was almost no one sitting even remotely near your table. Yet, you were sure that someone had just spoken to you.

You tried your best to recall, but you were certain none of your exes had ever called you “my love”, nor did any other friend or acquaintance you knew.

My love, you mouthed the words.

Why did it sound so familiar?

⋆˚✿˖°

That night, you dreamed again, but this time it was of a strange man.

He brought you to a cozy-looking cottage, and led you in the door. He guided you to sit at a wooden table. Snapping his fingers, two plates of food appeared before the both of you.

“You cooked my favourite again!”

You couldn’t see the man’s face, but you heard his laughter. “I wanted to see you happy.”

“I’m happy with whatever you cook for me.”

Somehow, you could feel him smiling. “I’m happy when you’re happy, my love.”

Just as he lifted your hand and brushed a kiss over your skin, you saw what was behind his back – a pair of shiny, gossamer wings.

You woke up instantly. The back of your hand tingled, almost as though he had actually left a kiss there.

All you knew was one thing – you had to go back to the forest immediately.

⋆˚✿˖°

You entered the forest tentatively, trying to hear if anyone was approaching you. Not too long later, you found yourself at the lake again, at the same spot where the fairy had found you.

“You’re back.”

You had to cover your mouth to stop yourself from screaming out of shock. Turning around, you saw the person you had been looking for, his wings shimmering as he floated toward you.

“How did you know I was here?”

He smiled mysteriously. “I know everything that goes on here. I am the king of this forest after all…ah, but I suppose you don’t know that, otherwise you wouldn’t ask.”

Your brow furrowed in confusion. “King?”

“Yes. We fae reside in forests, and I am the ruler of this one. I can sense humans coming in and out of this place, and that is how I knew you came back.” He landed softly on the grass. “Would it be too bold of me to assume that the reason you returned is because you remembered something about me?”

You shrugged. “If seeing you in my dreams and having random hallucinations counts, then I guess so.”

It was his turn to look confused. “Dreams? Hallucinations?”

“Yeah. I saw your face during one of those. That’s why I came back to find you, to see if you knew anything about it.”

The fairy sighed. “How about we take a seat? It’s a rather long story.” He snapped his fingers, and a fluffy blanket appeared out of thin air and floated onto the grass. He sat down gracefully on one side, and beckoned you to join him.

You stared at him apprehensively, your hand inching towards the pocket where your emergency pepper spray was kept.

“Come on. Fae don’t bite, you know, even though some of your human fiction suggest otherwise.”

Somehow, your heart told you to trust him, even though your mind screamed otherwise. Slowly, you inched towards the blanket, sitting as far away from him as you could on the fabric.

“I just realised I haven’t properly introduced myself yet. I’m Junhui, but you used to call me Jun.” He smiled, holding out his hand for you to shake it. You did so, trying not to notice how smooth his skin was. “What do you mean, ‘I used to call you’?”

Junhui laughed. “I suppose you haven’t figured it out yet. You and I…well, you were my wife. Or your past self was.”

You nearly choked on thin air. “My past self? Reincarnations exist in this world?”

“You could call it that. Your soul gets reborn, but you don’t retain your memories of your past self. Think of it as a reset, the only thing that remains is your core, your soul.” His eyes swept over your body briefly. “If you ask me, you don’t look, sound, or act like anything of your previous self.”

“What…what was I like last time?”

Junhui pondered on the question for a moment. “Well, personality-wise, you were more daring. You wouldn’t have run away like you did the last time we met.”

Your cheeks heated. “Excuse me, but what girl wouldn’t be scared if she heard a stranger say they’ve been watching her since she was a kid?”

He chuckled. “Well, guess that is my fault. Apologies.” His gaze met yours. “I didn’t give you too big of a scare, did I?”

“You kind of did. I couldn’t stop shaking the whole night, thinking that you were some kind of stalker or predator.”

“Oh dear. I really am sorry. Is there anything I could do to make up for it?”

“Just, maybe tell me more about you. About us last time.” You played with the edge of the blanket. “I really don’t know much about you.”

He smiled. “Well, if it helps, you were very bold. The first time you saw me, you followed me around everywhere. You would insist on visiting the homes where we fae live. You wanted me to show you all over my land.” He paused before smiling again, seemingly into nothing. “And well, you were the one who proposed to me. Right by this very lake, in fact.”

“What – I did what?”

“Yes. You challenged me to a race to run from over there –” he pointed to a clearing a few hundred metres away, “to around where we are sitting right now. You won, and so you told me that for your prize, you wanted me to be your husband.”

“Let’s race each other to the other side of this lake. Whoever loses has to grant the winner a wish.”

Suddenly your dream made a lot more sense. “So, did we get married?”

“Of course,” Junhui said it like it was obvious. “Why would I not marry you?”

“Then what about now? Do you still want to marry me?”

“Why would I not?” Junhui turned to face you. His hand reached towards your face, and for a moment, you thought he was going to touch you. Yet, in that last moment, he retracted his hand. “But it’s ultimately your choice. Just because you are the reincarnation of my wife doesn’t mean that you will want to be with me.” He chuckled, but it was tinged with sadness. “I won't force my desires upon you. Since you stopped coming here so frequently, I knew there are always going to be things outside my control.”

“So, it’s fine if you don’t want to be with me. I’m already happy that you returned to listen to my story.” He propped himself on his arms and leaned backwards. “As long as you’re happy, I’m happy.”

“Even if I’m with someone else?” You blurted out.

He nodded. “Even if you’re with someone else.”

Your gaze swept over his figure. Upon closer inspection, he was rather attractive. His facial features seemed sculpted, his wings were the perfect amount of shiny, and his eyes…his eyes were so expressive, so full of emotion.

“Well, I’m still single, so…if you want, I could try things out with you.”

Junhui’s eyes lit up almost instantaneously. “Really?”

You couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm. “Yeah, why not? If we used to be lovers, then maybe this will work out.”

“Don’t worry, my love. I will court you the way you deserve, before you make your decision.” He reached for your hand, and gently placed a kiss on the back of your palm. “When will I see you again?”

You sighed. “It might be a while. I have to go back to work tomorrow, but I’ll be taking a week off soon. I could visit my parents, and then..visit you too, I suppose.”

“Very well then.” Junhui stood up. “It’s quite dark; would you like me to walk you back where you came from?”

“Sure.” You got up from the blanket as well. Junhui snapped his fingers and the blanket vanished the same way it had appeared, and he led you towards the exit where you had parked your car.

“Apologies, but this is where I must leave you. I cannot physically venture out of the forest’s boundaries.”

“Why not?” You asked.

The fairy merely smiled. “It’s a complicated matter that I will explain to you some other time. It’s late, you better hurry home.”

You nodded, and waved to him. “Goodbye, Junhui. I’ll see you soon.”

You thought you saw a tinge of sadness in his eyes, but he quickly blinked it away. “Goodbye, my love.”

Somehow, as you drove further and further away from the forest, your heart grew heavier and heavier, almost as though you were leaving something you cherished behind.

⋆˚✿˖°

The next time you visited the forest, it was nearly a month later.

Work had been busy, and as much as you wanted to find time to spend with Junhui, it was almost impossible for you to leave. When your major projects were done, you found yourself counting down the days to the week of leave you had applied for, actually looking forward to meeting the mysterious fairy again.

He had mentioned that you were his wife a long time ago. Was it possible that despite not having any memories of your past life, your soul had somehow recognised him?

You mulled over the many questions in your head as you walked from your childhood home to the forest. You were staying with your parents for the week, so it was easier for you to visit Junhui.

“Hello, my love.”

Junhui made his appearance almost immediately after you had set foot into the forest. Luckily for you, you had anticipated his arrival so you weren’t too shocked by it. “It’s been so long since I last saw you, I even wondered if you had forgotten all about me.”

“Sorry,” you apologised. “Work was too busy, I couldn’t get away. But hey, I’ll be here for a week.”

The fairy merely chuckled. “A week would never be enough for me…but I guess I will have to make do.” He held out his hand for you to take it. “Are you hungry? I could cook something for you.”

You placed your hand in his, revelling in how it felt to have your hand in his. “Yeah, I’m hungry.”

“Well, I just procured some fresh strawberries this morning,” Junhui said as the both of you walked hand-in-hand past the lake. “Do you like sweets?”

“Yes!” You grinned excitedly. “What desserts can you make?”

Junhui smiled at your enthusiasm. “What do you want to eat the most?”

You pondered over it for a moment before replying. “Strawberry tarts!”

“Strawberry tarts it is then. I’ll make some for dessert,” Junhui stopped at a group of trees at the end of the clearing. “We’re here.”

You stared blankly at a tree in front of you. “You live in a tree?”

He laughed. “No, but my house is beyond these trees. Can you see the little fissure over here?” He lifted your hand that was still in his towards seemingly nothing in particular. “Use your fingers to feel it. You’ll feel something soft, and if you apply some pressure you’ll push through it and you can enter the fissure.”

You moved your fingers around the air where he had guided you. “I still don’t feel anything.”

“It’s alright. I’ll teach you how to observe and enter fissures next time. It took you a few months last time as well.” Junhui used his other hand to feel for it. “The reason why we fae are not sighted often by humans is because we mostly live in areas behind these fissures. Human eyes can’t see them easily, unless they have been trained to do so, of course.” You watched, fascinated, as his hand slowly disappeared into the air.

“Hold my hand and follow me,” he instructed, and you nodded.

As Junhui disappeared slowly, you closed your eyes and followed in the direction he went in. You felt something soft envelop you, similar to what he had mentioned earlier. You dared to open your eyes to see what exactly this fissure looked like, and was shocked by what you saw.

It looked as though you were still in the forest, but a brighter and windier part of it. Right in front of the both of you stood a cottage so beautiful you thought it came directly out of a picture. It was built entirely out of wood, had a stone pathway leading to the front door, and even had vines and flowers growing around the base of the house.

“Well, this is my home,” Junhui gestured towards the cottage.

You couldn’t take your eyes off the house. “It’s really beautiful, Junhui. It looks like it came out of a fairy tale.”

“It looks like a house from a fairy tale.”

Junhui smiled at the memory. Somehow you and your past self were very different, yet so similar. “Shall we go in, my love? I prepared lunch before you came, so it would be a waste to eat it cold.”

You blinked, almost as if you had been snapped out of a trance. “Yes, yes, let’s go.”

As you entered the fairy’s home, you felt a sense of familiarity wash over you. The living room, the furniture, the kitchen all appeared to be something you had seen before at some point. Your eyes spotted a picture hanging on the wall behind his sofa, and you froze.

It was a black-and-white picture of Junhui and another woman next to the lake. Junhui was wearing a suit, while the woman with him wore a long white gown adorned with hundreds of tiny flowers. They were facing each other and smiling brightly.

“You and I…well, you were my wife.”

“Junhui…is that me? Or…I don’t know, my past self, or something.” You pointed at the picture, your voice a little shaky.

“Yes,”Junhui confirmed. “That was you and I on the day of our wedding.”

You were at a loss for words. Why did seeing your past self make you feel so disconcerted?

“Hey.” Junhui tapped your shoulder. “Do not think too much of it. I did say it would be your decision. Just because you and I were married once does not mean that I expect you to be my wife again. Just think of you and I right now as…” he paused for a moment to ponder over it. “People looking for a prospective partner, I suppose. I heard humans go on dates too, for a similar purpose.”

He glanced at the picture again. “I must admit that I am hoping you will return to me though. Before this, I never even considered that human souls could be reborn. So now that you’re here, it is a little difficult to hide my desires from you. I suppose I missed you too much.” He swallowed, and for a moment, you thought you saw his eyes glisten. But then he blinked, and whatever you had seen was gone.

“Lunch will be cold if we don’t hurry,” Junhui changed the subject. “I cooked cream sauce pasta today, with tomatoes and basil, all fresh from my garden.” He walked into the kitchen and opened the lid of a pot, releasing a delicious aroma.

You gasped seeing the pot full of your favourite dish. “How did you know my favourite food is cream pasta?”

The fairy’s eyes widened in surprise. “It is?”

You nodded vigorously. Taking a pair of tongs that he had offered you, you piled heaps of the pasta noodles onto your plate. You brought the plate towards you, inhaled the scent of fresh basil and tomatoes and cream, and sighed happily. “I love cream pasta.”

The corner of Junhui’s lips lifted into a smile. “I did not expect you to like it this much. I usually cook this for the other fairies because they like it, so I took a gamble, hoping you would like it.”

As he was talking, you had already lifted a spoonful of pasta to your mouth and ate it. As you chewed, you could taste so many wonderful flavours. How could something that looked so simple taste so good? “Well, you won your gamble.”

Junhui helped himself to some as well, and the two of you ate together. It felt a little awkward talking to him at first, but soon you found yourself talking to him more, and the awkwardness melted away the more you talked. You asked him all kinds of questions: about your past self, what his life as an immortal fairy was like, and about him being a king.

“You don’t live in a palace or something?” You asked between bites.

“Well, I have a small place similar to a government building in the human world,” Junhui explained. “We have meetings there, but I do not have a palace. Even if I did, I would want to stay in my cottage. It’s very cozy here, and it makes me feel closer to my people. If I stayed too far away, I fear I might get disconnected from them.”

He began cutting up strawberries for tarts. “When you’re done eating, you can go explore the area. You can go anywhere, just please avoid destroying my plants in the garden. I’ll need time to get these baked.” He gestured towards all the ingredients lying on his kitchen counter.

That was why you found yourself in his garden, staring at all the different flowers and vegetation and fruits growing in his huge land. You saw the same people from your dreams strolling down the stone path in the middle of the garden, except this time you recognised their faces to be your past self and Junhui.

“See right here, my love, are the roses. And those next to it are the carnations, and then these are lilies.”

“Oh, I love carnations. They remind me a little of you, actually.”

“Why’s that?”

“They represent pure love…and you seem to be giving me that.”

As the memories played through your mind, you wondered what it was like to love Junhui again. He made you feel comfortable, in a way your previous partners hadn’t. He evidently adored you, even if you weren’t exactly like your past self…but what if you couldn’t reciprocate those feelings?

“My love.”

You jumped, turning to see a smiling Junhui. “You really should stop scaring me like that.”

“In my defence, you were spacing out,” he raised his arms in surrender. “The tarts are done. Do you want to try them?”

Nodding, you followed him back into the house, where a steaming tray of piping hot strawberry jam tarts were on the dining table. And as you bit into one of the tarts, tasting the sweetness and the light acidity of the strawberries and the love Junhui had put into them, you thought you were going to tear up.

⋆˚✿˖°

You continued to visit Junhui everyday for the rest of the week. Your dates were often the same: he would cook for you, after which he would bring you to explore the hidden parts of the forest you never knew about. He brought you to his government building, some fairy villages, and even tried teaching you how to observe and enter fissures (you still failed miserably at that). As the days passed you found yourself feeling sad when you had to leave Junhui to go back to your parents’ house in the evening, and happy when you returned the next morning to see him.

When it was time for you to leave, you hugged Junhui, managing to finally catch the fairy by surprise.

“I’ll miss you, Junhui,” you mumbled. “Work will be busy, and I won’t be back for a while, but I’ll come as soon as I can, okay?”

Junhui wrapped his arms around you, and used one hand to stroke your back. “I’ll be waiting for your return, my love. Don’t rush it; I’ll wait as long as you need.”

After returning to the office, you often found yourself drifting off, thoughts wandering to the beautiful fairy. You realised you missed him, that you were yearning for his company. Your fingers hovered over your desk, tracing a heart shape over the table.

Maybe falling in love with Junhui wasn’t as difficult as you thought after all.

⋆˚✿˖°

A few months passed before you were able to find time to visit Junhui again, but the time you spent away from him had made you realise that even though you and your past self were different people, your soul still wanted him the way you did years before.

This time, Junhui had been waiting at the lake for you, almost as if he had anticipated you would come. You immediately ran to him and hugged him. “Junhui!”

He smiled, embracing you happily. “You’re back.”

“I got you a present, I think you’ll like it,” you told him excitedly. “Want to guess what it is?”

The fairy mulled over it. “Well, I’m not sure. You don’t seem to be holding anything big.”

“It’s in my pocket,” you pulled out a small velvet box. “Here, open it.”

Junhui complied, and opened the lid, peering inside the box. As soon as he saw what was inside, he gasped, the box slipping out of his grasp and landing on the grass.

“Junhui!” You yelled, immediately swiping the box from the ground. “You’re going to get the rings dirty!”

“What…why did you…”

“The last time I proposed to you, I didn’t have a ring, but when I finally get you one, the first thing you do is drop it?”

“No…no, I…” He took a deep breath and exhaled. “I did not expect this at all! I thought you might want to wait a while more.”

You smiled seeing his bewildered expression. “I wanted to wait a while before giving you my answer, but then the time I was away from you made me realise how much I love you. And…I don’t want to wait any longer, Junhui.” You held out the ring. “Will you marry me? Let me be yours…again.”

Junhui stared at the ring for a moment, before suddenly pulling you into his arms. Just as you were about to say something, he kissed you, taking your breath away. You melted into his embrace, returning his kiss with the same love and passion.

When you parted, he smiled. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

You laughed happily, before taking his hand and sliding the ring onto his finger, and letting him do the same with yours.

“I wanted to get you rings this time,” Junhui leaned in and brushed his lips softly against yours. “You’re more bold than I thought you were. It isn’t fair that I don’t get a chance to propose to you.”

“It’s alright,” you whispered. “You can do that in my next life. I’m sure that I’ll fall in love with you again, every single time.”

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