#ladee thinking

[ladadeeladadeedoo]

¿Alguien quiere ser mi amigx por aquí?

[theth1njester]

u think ur funny but slurs are serious. u cant just say them all, prick. i dont say wutever slurs i want when i want to.

Then you will not be exploded by a slur returning back to you after bowing to me?

[incubabe]

Anyway. In a Hades-world, Riley would be taking on more of a trickster-deals based boon granter deal. I kinda see her big god portrait having her tail curled around her arm like a snake and her holding a glowing apple. She can buy boons for good money and grants random modest buffs with each sell as well as giving frequent flier miles that you can trade in for her own exclusive boons. So she functions as kind of another metacurrency in that way.

[welcometogrouchland]

MEOWS SO FUCKING LOUD

[ID: a blurry image of a small white kitten with sad eyes meowing into a microphone. End ID]

Me @ you rn

[yoakkemae]

dick: no way. how many times are we going to let slade get away? i won't let it happen. not again. not after all the times he's screwed us over-- donna: batman... dick: --all the lives he's destroyed. we should have-- donna: should have what? slade: killed me a long time ago. but you won't. and you never will. that's why i'll always win.

titans , volume 2 , annual. do not reblog.

[formulaforza]

—the seasons of love

or: the enemies to lovers situationship fic charles leclerc x female reader summ. spring and the lovely silence of growing things. minors dni. nsfw warnings under the cut. 7.6k part one part two part three part four part five

18+ because: oral (m receiving, rough), spit, hair pulling, drunk drunk drunk get crunk

“Goodnight Arthur,” you said, lingering behind as your family started off down the road in the opposite direction that he and his were. 

Your dress, long and linen, blows in the evening breeze and draws goosebumps to your skin. Your hands clutch your phone and a small purse, the cross body strap wrapped around your hand three times. Your ponytail sways with your hips when you walk. Turning to Charles, you nod, purse a smile. “Charles.”

“Goodnight,” he replies curtly, perfectly polite. 

“The two of you are still talking after a whole day together? Did Hell freeze over while we were out there?” Arthur laughs.

A strange silence, one that only you and Charles are aware of, swallows the lull of the cicadas in the streetlights. It’s early in the year for them, typically holding out on their spring song until a bit further into the season. Charles drags his feet on the concrete, drawing out every step to be a beat too slow. “Stranger things have happened,” he remarks under his breath, his middle finger picking at the cuticle of his thumb before shoving his hands deep in his pockets. 

“Have they?” Arthur continues to poke fun at the two of you, at the unlikeliness of a quareless evening. You’re surprised, too. Never would have guessed a few hours earlier that the evening would end up the way it had. 

(Five hours earlier)

He’s sulking and it's becoming pathetic. Every single thing about his body moves around the yacht like a kicked puppy, all sullen and blue and hosting another private-pity party. His sighs grow more and more dramatic, less and less patient with each moment that passes without someone feeling as bad for him as he feels for himself. 

You knew, maybe better than anyone, how fiercely competitive he is, how much pressure he carries on his shoulders. You'd seen the highs and the lows of it all, and despite the underlying annoyance that was Charles, you still wanted what was best for him. It’s just human nature to hope. 

This season has been beating him up, you knew, even if you didn’t follow it the way some of your friends did. Strategy has been shit, you’ve heard, luck somehow shitter. He’d talked such a big game before the start of the season, quietly confident and subtly cocky in a way that almost makes you believe he can predict the future. 

Usually, you would relish in his annoyance, but today you’ve found yourself feeling oddly concerned. You refused to let him ruin the beautiful day, ruin the moods of your siblings and his. It’s the determination to save the day that leads you to the yacht railing, feet away from his brooding, lost in thought expression. 

“You seem a bit off today,” you remarked, voice lades with a teasing tone, a poor attempt to lighten the mood. 

He glances up at you, a hint of a smile tugging on his lips. “You always have such a way of pointing out the obvious, don’t you?” He retorted, but his annoyance is all bark, no bite, softened entirely by the playful glint in his eyes. 

“Well,” you shoot back, minorly annoyed, massively amused. “It’s not everyday you look like a sulking child.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “And always full of delightful compliments,” he replied, gaze lingering on your lips for a moment too long before he tears them away. 

You smirk, lean in a bit closer. “You love it,” you taunt.

He raises an eyebrow, a challenge gleaming in his eyes. “Oh, do I now?” He quips, leaning in just enough to make your stomach sink. You feign indifference to his words, but your body betrays you, leaning in a fraction closer. 

“I know you better than you think,” you said, your voice almost a whisper. 

He chuckled again, the sound of it sending shivers down your spine. There’s something so deflated about him. “Is that so?” He muses, breath grazing against your ear, making your pulse quicken. 

You take a step back, attempt to find some sort of composure. “Maybe,” you replied with a playful shrug, not daring to meet his gaze. 

He leans in, fills the space you’d just created, mischievous glint in his eyes. “You’re always under my skin,” he admits, a hue of vulnerability in his voice leaving you unsettled. 

You finally meet his gaze, your eyes locking with his. “You love the challenge, though, don’t you?” You countered, tone serious now, hinting at something more, something deeper. 

He hesitates, a flicker of emotion crossing his features before he masks it with a smirk. “Maybe I do,” he replied, voice low and suggestive. 

The conversation drolls on, seconds between your words filled with charged silence. The subtle dance of glances and touches only adds to the tension, and you found yourself unable to break away, to return to the rest of the family on the upper deck. No, no, you have a feeling you’ll be going lower, even, farther away from them and closer to some private silence. 

“Do you ever wonder?” he asks, voice soft and full of curiosity. You have no interest in entertaining his words. 

“I don’t,” you reply, trying to keep your tone guarded. 

His brows furrow, challenging you. “Really?” Charles questions, his skepticism evident. 

You shrug. “It’s just easier this way, isn’t it?” you retort, a hint of bitterness creeping into your voice. Bitter that he feels entitled to ruin something that’s working just fine. 

“Easier?” He echoes, curiosity evident as he leans in even closer. 

You take a deep breath, gathering your thoughts as you meet his intense gaze. “Yeah, easier,” you say, the words spewing out with a touch of frustration. “It’s just a game.”

He studies you for a moment, eyes searching for any sign of vulnerability. You hope you’re talented enough to conceal them, that your secondary school drama class teacher taught you well. “You think it’s that simple?” he challenges, voice just painfully soft. 

“It’s not simple at all,” you admit, guard slipping for only a moment. “But it’s just what we do. It’s comfortable, in its own way.”

He nods, seeming to understand your reluctance. “So, what?” He asks, a trace of bitterness in his tone. “We just keep using each other whenever we feel like it?”

A mess of emotions swirls inside you as you meet his gaze, refusing to back down. “Maybe,” you remark, defiant. “But it’s better than facing the alternative.”

He seems to consider your words, the wright of your unspoken history. “You’re afraid,” he observes. Charles has called you afraid a million and one times in your life; from a ponytailed scaredy-cat to a selfish coward, he’s checked the box on every synonym. This time, though, his voice isn’t teasing or raging red. No, it’s surprisingly gentle. 

Your ears burn red hot. “I’m not afraid of anything,” you snap, try to push down everything just begging to boil over inside of you. 

He reaches out, his fingers lightly brushing against yours. You ignore the jolt of electricity, the fact that a simple touch holds more meaning than any words the two of you could exchange. You’re annoyed, now. Annoyed with him and the longing you refuse to acknowledge. It’s a powerful cocktail that you don’t want to begin to comprehend. 

He leans in closer, his breath ghosting over your ear. “You don’t have to be afraid,” he whispers, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. “Not with me.”

You heart pounds in your chest as you resist the urge to lean into him, to seek some fucked up sort of comfort in his arms. Instead, you push him away, maintain a safe distance. “I’m not afraid of you,” you say, voice horribly hushed. “I’m afraid of what this could become.”

He looks at you, some indistinguishable mix of emotions, of understanding and frustration and something else. “And what do you think this could become?” he asks, voice tinged with an edge of desire. 

You swallow hard, trying to ignore the way your body reacts to his proximity. “I don’t know,” you admit, feeling suddenly vulnerable and exposed. “But I don’t want to find out.”

He smiles like he knows something you don’t. It makes you crazy. “You’re always so stubborn,” he remarks, fingers moving from your hand to your jaw, brushing against your cheek. “Part of what drives me crazy about you.”

Your breath catches in your throat as you stare at him, unable to tear your eyes away. The tension is palpable, unspoken words hanging in the heavy air. 

“I could help take your mind off things,” you suggest, voice low and suggestive. “Just for a little while.” 

He raises a brow, surprise evident in his expression. “Oh?” he replies, voice a mix of intrigue and amusement. You give him a playful smirk, leaning in a bit closer. You can play games, too. 

“I can be pretty distracting,” you tease, fingers moving to his arm, tracing circles on the linen covering his arm. 

He hesitates, you’ve got him torn. He says your name, attempts to steer the conversation back to the emotions you’re so clearly dancing around. 

But you cut him off, not willing to back down. “Please,” you sigh, your voice full of longing and playfulness. “Let me take your stress.”

He puts his foot down. Protests weakly. “We can’t just ignore this.”

For a moment, you consider pushing the issue further. Deep down, somewhere unexplored, you know that this isn’t the right time. So, you take a step back, move to walk away. Before you can take another step, his hand is on your wrist, pulling you back to him. 

His lips crash against yours in a fierce and desperate kiss, and you lose yourself in the intensity of the moments. The motions that have been building under the surface finally finds an outlet, and you can’t resist the pull any longer. 

You both give in to the passion, into the physical connection and the muddled emotions. It’s a moment of surrender, of letting go. For now, it’s enough. For now, you can avoid the conversation. 

You’re no more than a few steps away from the stairs, make quick work of them, of the lock on the door to the master suite. You didn’t even know the doors had locks on them. You hope they’re half as soundproof as they are expensive, but you doubt it. 

You’re already pawing for his cock, palming the chilly, half-damp material of his swim trunks before slipping your hand under the waistband, taking the fabric out of the equation entirely. 

You look up at him, look for his reaction, check to make sure that his eyes aren’t harboring some sick softness to them. The whole point of this is to get the softy shit off his mind, to leave him so satisfied that he doesn’t remember wanting to have that conversation with you, that he doesn’t remember how shitty his season’s going and how he’s latched onto something that doesn’t exist. 

“Tell me what you want,” you whisper into his mouth. “Anything.”

He whinges at your words, mumbles something to himself, cupping your jaw with his hands. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and you roll your eyes, but then his thumb is on your bottom lip, firm and heavy. “This fucking mouth,” he grumbles. 

Your fingers wrap around his cock, big and thick and warm. You run your thumb over his head, smile at the precum pooling there, spreading it around and watching the way his face twitches. You play coy, look at him with your biggest, most innocent doe eyes.  “What about it?”

He rocks on his feet, moves himself ever so slightly through your hand. He either thinks you’re oblivious to it, or he’s completely clueless to his own actions. Either way, it’s hot, and you stroke him that little bit faster. “Wanna feel it,” he says, thumb still on your lip, sinking into your mouth, onto your tongue, pushing you down, down, down onto your knees. 

The floor is cold, but you don’t care, so are his swim trunks. It’s hard, though, like most floors would be, and you’re sure you’ll have bruises by nightfall. You pull his shorts down, dick bouncing out of the waistband, twitching while he steps out of the fabric, kicks it to the side somewhere in the tiny room.

As you look up at him, a myriad of emotions wash over you. This dance is becoming so familiar, and yet, you’re surprised each time by the intensity of it. Even though you’d offered yourself, you find a way to be annoyed at how he uses you like this, turns you into a vessel to vent his stress and frustration. The other part of you, though, is so fucking turned on. Completely and utterly satisfied by the fact that you have this effect on him, that you can make him forget about his troubles, even if just temporarily. 

His eyes meet yours, that same vulnerability still there. It’s a regular sight for other people, to be looked at like this by him. It’s not your normal, though. It’s rare, something that tugs on you, makes you wonder what he’s thinking, desire a level of understanding that goes beyond the physical. 

You push those thoughts aside as quickly as you can, remind yourself that this is all casual. That you and he, this is nothing.

You spit into your hand, stroke it over his cock until it’s hard and wet and just crying for you. Your tongue trails a long stripe, from the base of his shaft to the head, swirling around his most sensitive spot. You’ve found yourself growing annoyingly fond of the noises you can pull from him. It’s a game within a game, pushing the limits to find just how pained you can make him sound. 

His hands run through your hair, slow and smooth, gathering your hair into a soft ponytail. You move a hand to his, push it against your head as if to tell him–fuck me, Charles. Use me. 

“Wait,” he says, and you pull off him with a pop. 

“What?” You probe, irritated that he’s already got something to say. 

“You have to tell me if I hurt you.”

You smirk, bite the inside of your cheek like you’re working through a real head-scratcher, putting on your best sarcastic tone. “And how do you suppose I do that?” 

“I’m serious.”

Your shoulders recoil into a shrug, a laugh helplessly falling from your lips. “So am I.”

He bites the inside of his cheek, visibly apprehensive. This never would have been an issue in January, back when the only thing he did was be openly annoyed by you. No, it’s all different now. He’s got feelings, now, wants to fucking worry about you and care about you. It makes your stomach twist and turn and knot. 

You roll your eyes. This is ridiculous, how many guys out here are stopping a woman from letting them do whatever they fucking want. It can’t be more than him, it can’t. “For fucks… you’ll know if you’re hurting me.”

He nods. “But how… will I know?”

“I don’t know… I’ll punch you in the dick or something.”

He laughs, a direct juxtaposition to his words. “You are not funny.”

You shrug, scowl. “I think I’m pretty funny.”

“I don’t know why you would think this.”

You purse your lips, puff a breath of air out of them, and hold up a single finger, pointing to him. “Fuck you,” you laugh. “I’ll tap the back of your leg,” you explain, demonstrating the gesture. “Is that good enough?”

His hands move through your hair again, fix his carefully crafted ponytail you’d messed up. “Yes. Thank you.”

You roll your eyes, take his dick in your hand again and start stroking. “Can I…?”

He nods. “I’m not stopping you.”

“I mean… “ you mumble against his skin, “you just did but…” and then you take him again, hollowed cheeks and flat tongue. 

“Jesus, you are insufferable,” he remarks, and you laugh around his dick. It makes him shudder. 

You try to focus on the moment, on his fingers gently grazing over your skin, hands guiding your head with a mixture of need and  urgency. You gag around his dick, choking on the thick shaft as it fills your mouth so perfectly. “Putain, fuck, so good,” he groans. You’d smile up at him if you could. 

The ponytail he’d been so proud of was nothing but a knotted mess now, his fingers tangling in search of grip. You hope he forgets it’s you, that it’s anyone. That he fucks into your throat until your couching and gagging and spit drips down your face, tears prick at your eyes. You hope your throat hurts tomorrow, that you lose your voice and gargle salt water and he’s the only person in the world who knows why. You hope you have to tap out on the back of his thigh. 

You come pretty close, the way he uses you like a filthy toy. Everytime you think you’re about to break, he pulls off your mouth, leaves you heaving for air, wiping spit off your face with the back of your hand. He leans down to kiss you once, hand under your chin, tilting your head up to meet his lips. You hope he tastes himself, knows just how good it is, how content you are with your life’s purpose. 

“Pretty girl,” he says, and you hum against his dick. It’s not often you’re on the receiving end of praise from him. “Take me so good.”

You’ve learned to know when he’s close, exactly how his body reacts when it’s lost all sight of anything but finishing. His pace gets silly, all kinds of unsynchronized and messy. He gets really quiet for a minute, spends all of it fighting with himself before he finally accepts it, and then he’s loud. A mix of nonsensical languages and curses, of groans and hums and remnants of what sounds like it wants to be your name. 

He’s a mess, and then he’s holding your head as close as he can, your nose pressed against the muscles of his abdomen as he bottoms out, drains himself into the back of your throat with a breathy, pained groan. 

You swallow around him greedily, want everything he has to give, all his cum and all his whimpers. He thrusts in and out of your mouth a few more times, and then he’s pulling out completely, hands cupping your face, pulling you up to stand. He kisses you, hard, and you still haven’t caught your breath–neither of you have–but you kiss until you can’t anymore, until your lungs burn to be filled with something that isn’t him. 

His thumbs wipe your face, the spit from your lips and the tears from the corners of your eyes. “I’m sorry,” he tells you, back arching to lower himself to your height. 

You want to swat his hands away. Clearly, though, this is something he feels he needs to do. “Why?” you chuckle. “That was hot.”

He matches your laugh, but his is laced with uneasy concern as he continues to try to clean up your face, fixing your hair and kissing you again, this time all soft and sure. “You’re crazy.”

“Yeah,” you pant. “You’re into it, though.”

You wonder if he regrets this, if he’s known all along the same way you have that this won’t end well, that it never would. His face mirrors yours, open mouth breathing and heaving chests and a mix of half a dozen emotions. You both know this is how it has to be, that anything more would be too complicated to manage. It stops you from the wonder. You hope it stops him. 

He sticks his head out of the door a few minutes later, after you’d ducked into the stall-sized bathroom and properly fixed yourself, untangled your hair and tied it back securely into a ponytail with the tie from your wrist. 

You laugh at him for it, push him out from behind and tell him to drop the high-schooler act. “Wait here,” he tells you, tries to close the door on you. He doesn’t hear you catch it, doesn’t turn back to see you following him up the stairs from a few steps behind. 

You’d wonder why he doesn’t hear your feet, but, if he’d just done to you what you did to him, your ears would probably still be ringing, all full and overwhelmed. 

“Charles!” Your Mom’s voice carries down the stairs just as his head appears on the second level. “You haven’t seen–” his ears blush bright red, head snapping back to you. Jesus, can we have some subtlety? “Oh,” your Mom laughs when she spots you a couple steps behind him. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“Yeah,” you laugh. Charles can’t look at you, he stares right past. “We were fighting, isn’t that right, Charles?”

“Oh?” She chuckles. 

Charles’ eyes snap to you. He nods. “First rule of fight club, you know.”

Your tongue clicks against the roof of your mouth before you look back to your Mom. “What did you need, Mama?”

“Just wondering if you want a drink,” she says. 

“Only if you mix it strong,” you say, and your Mom is already setting off back towards the rest of the group on the top level. With silent understanding, you and he both fall back into your respective roles; the arrogant, fearless prick and the spoiled, bratty princess. It’s better this way. It’s better this way. 

“Well,” you chuckle, pat him on the shoulder as you move past him on the stairs. “Aren’t you just a blushing bride?”

The anticipation in the air is palpable, all of you here in Ricky’s parents’ apartment–an added guest this year in sweet little Chiara. You’ve all watched the race here since before Charles could imagine this being his reality, the balcony providing a perfect overlook onto the iconic circuit. The sun bathes the track in golden rays, like even Mother Nature knows that it’s going to be a historic day. 

Excitement crackles like electricity, sparking from person to person, igniting contagious grins and animated chattering. Your heart flutters with a unique blend of nerves and exhilaration, Charles’ undying Monaco optimism seeking into even your most pessimistic veins. 

Antoine sets up his camera on the balcony, is interviewing half of you for Charles’ next YouTube video. You steal glances of your friends the entire time, feeling strangely sentimental about all the love in the room. On the sofa, Marta bounces Chiara on her knee, absentmindedly shakes a rattle in front of the infant, eyes watching the pre-race coverage on the television. Ricky, on the balcony, the first interviewee, beams with pride watching them. The guys all buzz with excitement, half of them glued to the TV, the other half carefully pulling tight the zip-ties on the now infamous banner, anxiously awaiting the start of the race. 

You watch from beside Marta as the national anthem plays. She tickles Chiara’s feet, pulls little giggles from the baby’s lips. Your focus remains on Charles, though, his face on the screen. You don’t know how many laps you’ve seen him drive around this country, how many ups and downs he navigated in this sport, but you know that today feels different. You can see it etched into his features, the fire in his eyes and the resurgence in his confidence since Baku. It’s like he knows today is his day, that nothing can stand in the way, that the sun will shine on him and the champagne will spray. 

The engines roar to life, sending a shiver of anticipation down your spine. You move to the balcony, can’t bear to watch the start from a screen, knowing that it’s one of the most crucial parts of the next seventy-eight laps. Your heart pounds in sync with the rhythmic revving of the cars, and the world around you falls away as you focus on the starting grid. The lights illuminate, they're out, and the race is on. 

Charles makes a picture perfect start, no. It’s better than that, better, because the crowd roars louder than you think you’ve ever heard as he catapults himself past Max and into the lead, and your breath catches in your throat.

He’s in control, navigating every corner and chicane with precision, never once giving into the pressure of the bullet behind him. Max tries, he tries and tries, to close in on Charles, but he holds him, defends his position with skill and tenacity that makes you attracted to a helmet, to the mind it protects. 

With each passing lap, you expect the crowd to die down, but they don’t. You find yourself rallying with your friends, joining into the country-wide chorus of voices and cheers. Every maneuver, ever inch he gains on Max, fills you with excitement and awe. He’s like a force of nature, a breathtaking sight. 

The laps wind down, and his lead over Max grows. You can’t help but let out a joyful whoop. He’s doing it. This is the day he shuts everyone up about the curse. Yesterday is the last day you get to tease him about it. The realization washes over you that he’s going to win at home, and your heart swells with pride.

The final lap approaches, and you hold your breath, moving inside, to watch the screen, to stare like your glare could will him to find an extra tenth. As he takes the checkered flag, a deafening roar erupts, reverberating through the streets. 

Your friends join in a celebration, hugging and cheering as if you’re the ones standing on the podium. Antoine is giddy behind his camera, and you’re sure half the footage will be unusable with shaky hands. 

You found pause in the celebrations to watch him get out of the car, all arms swinging and firsts clenched. He stands on the halo of his car, pointing to the Ferrar emblem on his chest, over his heart. He jumps off and moves to congratulate Esteban, only to be met with a hug from the other driver. Max joins them quickly, strong handshakes and hard pats on the back before any of them are taking their helmets off. 

David Coulthard is waiting for him. Charles makes him wait, gets his bracelets and his watch from Andrea before picking up his microphone. “Charles, congratulations on your stunning victory! How are you feeling right now?” Your fingers find your lips, cover your smile and laugh. Charles has no idea how he feels. 

“Thank you!” He grins, all young and dimpled, purely pure. If you didn’t know better, you’d think a giddy first-grader had just won the biggest race in the world. “I don’t know,” he laughs. “It’s just… wow. I’m on top of the world right now, to be honest.”

He looks so tired and yet so, so full of life. Like the adrenaline is the only thing keeping him up, all sweaty hair and balaclava lines. You want to kiss him, to trail your fingers along every indent in his skin. “You led the race from start to finish, and it was quite a battle with Max. Tell us about your strategy and how you managed to hold that lead.”

“It was definitely not an easy race,” he says, still smiling. You’re shocked he hasn’t lost his English yet, he always does when he gets over excited. “Max is a great driver and I knew he would not make it easy for me. Our strategy was to be aggressive from the start. I tried to manage my tyres. I think it all paid off in the end.”

“Your victory today makes you the first Monegasque driver to win the Monaco Grand Prix since Louis Chiron in 1931. How does it feel to be a part of this historic moment?”

“It’s a tremendous honor. Louis is an inspiration to all Monegasque drivers, to follow his footsteps is truly special.”

“Fantastic, thank you, Charles. Congratulations.”

“Thank you, thank you!” He says, holds up a thumbs up as he walks away and winks. Well, he tried to wink. The inability to do so might be the least suave thing about him. 

The screen transitions to the cool-down room, to Max talking Esteban’s ear off, lighting up with a smile when Charles enters. The camera focuses on Charles in the corner, setting his helmet and his towel down on the table in front of his name, drinking an entire water bottle in two gulps, opening another and taking up a conversation with the others. 

Joris snaps a finger in front of your face. “Sorry, what?” You ask, eyes snapping to him.

“I asked if you want champagne?” he chuckles. 

“Oh,” you smile. “Yeah. Thanks.”

When you look back, they’ve already cut to the empty podium, announcing Esteban’s third place finish to a loud applause. He celebrates like he won the thing, which you admire. Next is Max, who is met with applause, but it's noticeably less than the roar that follows when Charles’ name is announced. 

The room around you is half as loud as the rest of the country, laughing and screaming wild for Charles. Jo and Ricky pop open Champagne bottles on the balcony, send the corks flying to God only knows where, hastily filling up the glasses beside them and passing them out. 

Even from blocks away, where he is just a red dot, where your friends arms are over your shoulder sipping champagne and humming along with the national anthem, you feel a strange connection to him, something beyond the bickering and annoyance. Something beyond the sex, maybe. Something just… something happy, or proud, or just plain soft, maybe. Soft like his smile while he gets drenched in Champagne by the two others on the podium. 

(six hours later) 

Joris’ knowing glances didn’t escape your notice, and it made you uneasy. You wondered if Charles was crass enough, if he has been sharing secrets about your little arrangement. The thought of it sends a shiver down your spin. The idea of anyone glimpsing into the tangled web that is you and Charles now made you feel vulnerable and exposed. 

You sipped your drink, trying to focus on the chatter around you, but your mind just keeps looping back to him. His laughter, his smile. His very presence seems to pull on you, and it doesn’t help that you know he feels the same way, that he has for weeks now. You quickly brush away the thought each time, unwilling to entertain the idea of anything beyond the surface of your friendship. 

“You seem a bit distant tonight,” Jo remarked, voice pulling you back to the present. 

You force a smile, hope he won’t detect the unease that drenches your demeanor. “Just a bit tired, I suppose,” you replied casually, averting his gaze, staring into the bottom of your glass as you spun the clear liquor around. 

He didn’t push further, but the look on his face tells you he sees right through you, makes you feel that much more exposed. You take a deep breath, attempt to steady yourself, but the questions linger like shadows in the back of your mind. 

The night wears on, and Charles wears your eyes, a near constant sightline from you to him. It was easy to steal glances when he looks like that, when his easy charm and infectious laughter draws everyone in. 

You don’t dare confront the truth, not here, not now. It was easier to stay in the safe confines of what you knew, what you’d established, emotions locked away in a heart-shaped locket hung round your neck. 

The party shows no signs of winding down, and you need air. You slip away from the group, out the back door to the curb where all the smokers hide. You found yourself drawn to the quiet of it, where it was just you, your thoughts, and the smell of tobacco. 

With the distant laughter and celebrations faded into the night, you allow yourself to be candid, to admit the truth, if only to yourself. There was a part of you that yearned for something more, a part of you that longed to explore what might be with him. 

But he was right. You are afraid, you are. Afraid of what it means to let your guard down, to open up to the unknown. The vulnerability that comes with the admission is daunting, shit straight from a horror movie, like a trap. You were standing on a cliff, a dangerous precipice that threatened to unravel everything you’d sloppily built. This life is held together with bubblegum and toothpicks, it can’t stand the shake. 

So, as you stood there on the back step, you made a silent promise to yourself. A promise to stay safe, to guard your heart and keep your feelings hidden from him, from everyone. 

You returned to the party, unable to fully shake the weight of what gnawed on you. The cocktail of emotions was overwhelming, and you found solace in the bottom of a glass. Joris egged you on, kept the shots coming, and Marta made it more fun. 

However, as the alcohol flowed freely, your tipsiness quickly spiraled into something more intense. With each drink, your inhibitions crumbled into a reckless pursuit of distraction. Each shot pushed the turmoil down further. 

Marta slowed down first, opting to be cautious on her first “big night out” since having the baby. She could focus on the company and the laughter you feared. Joris started sober, too, tried to keep an eye on you the best he could, but you were determined to lose yourself to the moment. 

The music thumped loudly, and the energy of the party was infectious. You danced with wild abandon, uncaring of the curious glances and amused whispers that followed. The alcohol had stripped back any reservations, leaving behind a version of yourself you barely recognize, all carefree and daring and reckless. 

Jo tried to reason with you, to suggest you call it an early night, but you were having none of it. “I’m fine, really,” you insisted, slurring your words slightly. “Let’s do another shot!”

He reluctantly agreed, but the more you drank, the more erratic your behavior became. You danced with strangers, laughed loud and flirted shamelessly, trying to fill the void with temporary connections. Amidst the sea of bodies, you caught the eye of a handsome stranger. He was tall, with dark brown hair and a mischievous glint in his eye that instantly intrigued you. He moved with confident grace, and you were like a moth to a flame. 

He made his way toward you, playful smirk on his lips. “I couldn’t help but notice you across the room,” he said, voice low and alluring. 

You laughed, feeling the effects of alcohol emboldening you. “Oh, really? And what is it that caught your attention?”

He leaned in, his breath brushing against your ear as he mumbled, “Your smile. It’s as captivating as the stars.”

You blushed at his compliment, feeling a rush of warmth spread through you. “Smooth talker, huh?” you teased, trying to keep up the playful banter. 

He chuckled, his finger lightly grazing the small of your back. “Only when I’m in the presence of someone this beautiful.”

You grinned, enjoying the flirtatious exchange. “You know how to flatter a girl,” you replied, heart racing at his touch. 

He leaned in even closer, the proximity between you sending sparks flying. “I can be even more convincing,” he said, voice low and seductive. 

You raised an eyebrow, playfully challenging him. “Is that so?”

He smirked, gaze never leaving yours. “Oh, absolutely,” he replied. “But you’ll have to let me prove it.”

A thrill coursed through you as the chemistry between the two of you intensified. You were well aware it was just a fleeting moment, a casual flirtation in the middle of a wild night out. But something about this stranger has ignited a spark in you, and you found yourself tempted to play along. 

The two of you danced together, the electric energy between you creating an intoxicating allure. His hands traced patterns along your waist. You get lost in the moment, in the music, in the touch of a stranger. 

“You wanna get out of here?” He asked, and you laughed. 

“No,” you replied, and abandoned your spot with him before he could protest any further. 

At some point, you stumbled outside for fresh air, feeling the world spin around you. The cool night air did little to sober you up, and instead, it only dueled your recklessness. You leaned against the railing, teetering on the edge between exhilaration and oblivion. 

Joris found you there, concern etched on his face. He calls your name, “Maybe we should call it a night. You’ve had enough.”

But you shook your head defiantly, a stubborn gleam in your eyes. “I’m not done yet,” you slurred. “I want more.”

He sighed like he knew it was pointless to attempt to reason with you like this, made you promise to stay put, told you he was off to get you another drink and he would be right back. 

As he left for your promised drink, you found yourself swaying in your shoes, the world around you still spinning. You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to gain some composure, but the liquor is taking it’s toll. When the door opened, you opened your eyes again, met with Joris–no drink, but with Charles in tow. 

You laughed. “Hey, Charles,” you slurred, grabbing onto his arm for support. 

He looked down at you, a mix of surprise and annoyance crossing his features. “Are you alright?” he asked, glancing around as if someone would magically appear to care for you. 

You ignored his question. “I want you to dance with me,” you demanded, tugging on the sleeve of his sweatshirt. 

He frowned, clearly not thrilled by the idea. “You’re drunk. Maybe you should sit down and take it easy,” he suggested, trying to lead you back inside, no doubt in the direction of a chair. 

“No,” you pouted. “I want to dance.” You didn’t care that you looked like a mess, or that your coordination was shot. All you wanted was to forget, to lose yourself in the music and the movement. 

Charles sighed, clearly exasperated, but let you tug him all the way back inside to dance. He keeps a cautious distance, as if he was worried you might fall over at any moment, which, granted. You very well might. You swayed and you twirled, laughing without regard for how ridiculous you looked. 

As the music pulsed through you, you were suddenly stuck with severe guilt. You were angry at yourself for getting so drunk, for losing control like this. You were mad at him, too, annoyed by his incessant need to attempt to care for you, for never just letting you be. And yet, at the same time, you were so drawn to him and his soft eyes, to the concern and frustration and the way he cared about you even when you pushed him away. 

The song changed. Something slower, more sensual. You dance closer to him and he hesitates, clearly unsure of what to do. You laugh, wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer. You could feel his heart racing, his body tense with restraint. 

“We shouldn’t…” he started to protest, but you silenced him with a kiss. It was messy and desperate, per usual, fueled by alcohol and unspoken emotions. He hesitates for just a moment before giving in, his hands finding their way to your waist. 

You pulled away breathless, looked up at him all defiant and bratty. “I don’t need you to take care of me,” you whisper, and it comes out far more vulnerable than you intended, all squeaky and cracked. “I can handle myself.”

He looked torn, his usual composure slipping momentarily, before reverting to his usual ways.  “Someone fucking has to,” he finally spoke. 

You wanted to protest, to push him away, but the words all get stuck in your throat. Instead, you lean in to kiss him again, fingers tanging into his hair. In this moment, you wanted nothing more than to forget it all, to lose yourself in him and the way he made you feel. “Thank you for dancing with me.”

“Can’t believe I got your sloppy seconds,” he quips.

“What?”

“The guy who tried to take you home earlier,” he laughed. “Looked like a prick.”

“Oh,” you laughed. “Him.”

“Yeah, you really hit it off with him, didn’t you?” Charles said with a hint of sarcasm. You struggled to read if he was joking or if he was just barely keeping his irritation in check. 

You grinned, words still slurring. “Oh, you’re just jealous.” you shot back at him, leaning closer. 

“Please,” he scoffed. “Like I could ever be jealous of that guy.”

“You’re right,” you laughed, your body pressing against his as you stumbled slightly. “You just won the Monaco Grand Prix.”

The rest of the evening continues in much of the same way, with Charles having to play babysitter to a very drunk–and very handsy–you. He tried to keep his distance, to maintain some semblance of composure, but you made it hard constantly pulling him into your orbit. 

At some point, you find yourselves alone on a sofa, the noise around you fading somewhere far off. You were giggling about something, leaning your head on his shoulder. “You know,” you said, “this is all your fault.”

He quirked a brow. “My fault? How do you figure?”

You Smirked, reaching up to play with a strand of his hair. “You’re the one who got me all worked up with that kiss earlier,” you said, voice low and teasing. 

His cheeks burnt bright pink. “I didn’t do anything,” he said, a poor attempt at sounding casual. 

“Oh please, Charles. You know exactly what you’re doing,” you said, voice taking on a more serious tone. “You’re always doing this, pulling me in and then pushing me away.”

“You’re fucking with me, right?” He scoffs, turning his head to face you, knocking your head off his shoulder in the process. “You’re the one doing that.”

You feel a pang of guilt at his words. You know he’s right, that tonight is just the next night of you sending him mixed signals. It’s been going on like this for months, but you don’t know how to stop, how to untangle the mess. “I don’t mean to,” you say softly, defenses dropping for a moment. “It’s just… complicated.”

He nodded. “I know,” he speaks quietly. “It’s just hard. Trying to figure out where we stand.”

You sigh, running your hand through your hair. “I know. I do.” You sit in silence for a moment, the weight of your unspoken feelings hanging in the air. You wished you could say something, anything, to tell him how you feel, but all the words are stuck. Instead, you reach for his hand, intertwine your fingers and look up at him, big pupils in the dimly lit room. “I don’t want to ruin what we have,” you said softly, voice hardly above a whisper. 

“I don’t either,” he said, his thumb stoking your hand gently. 

The moment is interrupted by Joris, who appears from around the corner out of nowhere, looking half as annoyed as the two of you must. “There you two are,” he said, relief and irritation clouding his words. “It’s time to go,” he says, pointing directly to you. “You’ve had enough.”

You groaned, but you didn’t protest. You lean on Charles the whole walk to Joris’ car. 

As you arrived back at your apartment, he helped you inside and settled you into bed. He tucked you in, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “Sleep well,” he whispered, voice soft and tender. 

You smile sleepily, reaching up to touch his cheek. “You too,” you murmured. He turns to leave, but before he could go, you grab his wrist, holding it tightly. “Stay,” you said, voice barely audible. 

He hesitates for a moment, you can feel it in the air even with your eyes closed, can feel his heart beating in his wrist. Eventually, though, he gives in, slides into bed beside you. He wraps his arms around you, holding you close, and you nuzzle into his chest, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. 

“You’re so warm,” you mumbled, words still pathetically sloshed. 

He chuckles softly, the annoyance in his eyes starting to fade. “Well, I am always warm,” he teased, trying to lighten the mood, to ease the awkwardness. 

You giggled, snuggling even closer to him. “You’re my human heater,” you said, voice filled with affection. 

As the minutes passed, you started to drift off to sleep, your breathing becoming slow and steady. You could see the struggle in his eyes as your lids grew heavier, the depth of care for you he tried so hard to hide. 

When you wake up in the middle of the night, hints of a sunrise beginning to push through the curtains, you find him still awake. He looked lost in thought, afraid, almost. Desperately, you wanted to reach out, to ask him what was wrong, but feared pushing him away more than anything. 

You settle against his chest, listen to the sound of his heart beating against your ear, feel yours match it. Finally, exhaustion catches up to him, his body relaxing as he drifts off to sleep. As you lay there, you can’t help your tired mind and it’s delusions of a future where you don’t have to hide your feelings, where you can be together openly and honestly, and then you’re falling back asleep yourself.

[pebblethestone]

Too Close To The Cliffs Edge¹

So'lek x Na'iv Sarentu Reader

Summary - looking though a old and abandoned DRA base for stuff, as they run into trouble, you help them.

Info - bold words are in Na'vi English is just normal

Too close to the Cliffs Edge MasterList

Masterlist / next

Words - 1227

A/N - Hellooo so uh So'lek right? Anyway I thought about doing some writing for him cause he doesn't have much story's yes that i can find 😞

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Digging through a box in a rundown RDA base you pick stuff up take a look at it and throw it onto to ground not finding anything useful as you continue, coming across amno but nothing interesting, you suddenly stop what you doing as you pin your ears up hearing footsteps going towards you, twitching your ears a little as you listen carefully, they are soft like Na'vi but they carry metal as it clangs together.

Scanning around the room you are in you spot a vent being as quiet as you can you go under it and jump up getting into the vent with a little struggle but you manage it, moving forward into the vent as you look down through some bars into the room you where just in, as you see a na"vi walk in watching as he walks across the room as he digs through draws.

Hearing more footsteps this time but more heavy than the last as another Na'vi walks into the room. Your eyes look at her like a sky demon, keeping your hand close to your dagger.

“Are you sure this is the right place Alma?” you hear the na'vi man say only catching a few of the words of the sky poeple tongue.

“So'lek, I am sure Don't worry we won't be here long, I only have to grab some stuff and then we can go” she says as she walks through a door. Still not understanding what's being said exactly.

Your eyes follow her until she leaves the room, looking back towards the male Na'vi as you scan him wearing stuff like the sky people do, your tail moving to the side hitting the metal in the vent and causing a sound.

Grabbing your dagger in your hand you see him look up to where you are as you both lock eye contact, watching him closely as he's about to move, Turing around in the vent as you move down it quickly hearing the thugs of your foot spots echoing, coming to a stop as you see an exit outside closed of moving towards it as you force it open.

Leaping the building, lading okay and running into the forest hearing the na'vi leave the building as he runs after you. Hearing him speak the words you don't understand, jumping over a log and through a small river, moving down a small hill slowly with careful steps, stopping as you feel eyes on you looking around and seeing nothing as you carry on.

Out of nowhere, you feel a force hit your side as the na'ni man tackles you to the ground you both roll down to the bottom, as he's onto you, you hiss at him pinning your ears back and shouting at him, and he pins his ears back as you continue shouting his poor ears off.

“let go of me! Right now!!” you say as he lets you go

“A Sarentu?“ You hear him say, stunned as he says that him walking closer towards you as he looks at the mark on your face.

“I had thought that you all disappeared?“ He says to you as you make eye contact.

“I do not know where my clan went, I don't remember,” you say as you step away from him as he gets too close to you, ears twitching as you ear footsteps rush towards you as you see the woman avatar Alma you think her name was as she reaches yous as she looks at you.

“The RDA are here So'lek” she says out of breath to So'lek, as she looks back at you with curiosity. Your ears go up as they twitch picking on the sky people metal machines moving around, Deciding to help them.

“Come, come, hurry” you say as you also move your hand in that motion, moving off ahead of them, as they both you at each other and not their head as they follow after you.

“Hurry up” you say stopping to let them catch up as you, yoye then start moving again just a little slower this time, coming up towards a huge tree.

“We go up, now,” You say as you start climbing up the tree getting into an opening as you climb into it, and look out of it to see the other two coming up the tree. The male climbs into the tree first he then helps the female into the tree as she lands on the ground out of breath. Watch as the male turns around to look at you as he starts to talk to you.

“Hello, my name's So'lek this here is Alma and you are?“ He says to you as he introduces himself as well as the others. Still a little on edge as you decided to introduce yourself to them as they did for you.

“I am Y/n, it's nice you meet you both,“ you say to them staying in the spot you standing where you are.

“It's nice to meet you Y/n” you hear Alma say surprised that she could speak the native tongue, as she steps towards you and moves her arm towards you, taking a step back watching as So'lek grabs her hand gently and shakes his head at her.

“You both must be hungry?“ you say to them gesturing towards the floor as they look around the very small home, plants and herbs handing from the top of the room baskets filled up this fruits and materials, a short table in the middle perfect for sitting down on the ground for. Looking up they see a hammock, some weapons scattered across the room.

“Sit, sit,” you say to them, they both stop looking around, and both of them take a seat on the floor next to the table. Opening up a basket at you grab enough for three of you, move back towards them and take a seat on the floor with them, Handing them both a fruit.

“you may stay one night, and then leave, it is not safe at night,” you say to both of them after you had looked outside seeing it was getting darker.

“We thank you for your generously, ” So'lek says to you as he turns his head to look at you. Alma nods her head in agreement as you nod your head.

“I will be going to sleep now, you both should do the same” After a while, you say to them as you climb up towards your hammock, letting them decide how they are going to sleep

The Next Day

Opening your eyes as you peck over the side of your hammock seeing that Alma is still sleeping where So'lek is already up and about, moving out of your hammock as you climb down seeing So'lek stop what his doing as he sees you.

“You've done quite well by yourself, must feel lonely to have no one around” he says to you as you turn your head to the side.

“It does but I've managed to do it over the years” you say to him.

“How about you come with us? You wouldn't be by yourself then” he offers to you as you think over his words, looking over at Alma you do not like the sky people very much, but if a Na'vi is with them maybe you can trust them.

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Next

[mamisfavmosherz]

Hello. I hope your doing well. I would like to request a Rhea Ripley X Pregnant Reader where reader and Rhea is planning a gender reveal and Choose to do it live on Monday Night Raw as reader is about to take maternity leave and is very emotional cause the wwe has been her dream since she was little girl so she ends up celebrating with the wwe universe and the locker rooms. If not I'll understand. Thanks you 😊

Pairing: Rhea Ripley x Pregnant!Reader

Warnings: Pregnant Reader, Fluffy

A/n: I'm so sorry this took me so long. My brain was malfunctioning on how to even start this lol. Honestly idek if i like this, but I hope this is somewhat what you wanted! 😭

Masterlist , WWE Masterlist

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Big Dreams Let To This

You were in bed with Rhea, facing upwards the back of your head laying on her chest, her hand gently rubbing your belly. You were about 19 weeks pregnant and had just gotten the gender of your baby but had asked your doctor not to tell you, so you had the envelope with the gender on the bedside table. You and Rhea had been cuddling trying to decide how to do this gender reveal. You thought about doing it as a small gathering with both of your families and friends, but that just didn’t feel right for you guys. There was also the fact that all of your friends were wrestle and barely had any time off, Rhea also didn’t have that much time off, and to get both your families here at a time were everyone was free was harder than one would think. You also wanted to include the fans in some way, but you weren’t sure how.

“Well baby why don’t we just do it Monday at Raw ? All of our friends will be there and the show is where your parents live” Rhea suggested a smile on her face before she even said it. Your eyes immediately lit up at the idea. You would have everything you wanted, your friends and family, you would get to do it at a wrestling show, which has been your entire life sense you were a little girl, the people you do this for -other than yourself - the fans, would be there. It was perfect, well almost, there was no way Rhea’s family was gonna be able to make it for Raw in time.

"What about your family ? We can't do this without them... this isn't just about me. It's about us and our family." you said with a small smile on your face, your eyes a little glossy as this perfect idea didn't seem as perfect anymore.

Rhea lightly kissed your head a smile on her face, which made you frown, wondering why she would be smiling right now. "Well, my sweet girl, I already saved them tickets to the show, and their on their way right now. They should be lading tomorrow morning" you eyes lit up like Christmas lights a big smile adorning your face.

Rhea had already planned it out beforehand. She had the idea of doing the gender reveal at Raw for a little while, but she wasn't sure how you would react. Either way, whether that idea ended up happening or you did it another way, she knew the gender reveal was happening this week, so she bought her parents and sister plane tickets to where this week's show was happening and saved them Raw tickets just incase. Her family was gonna ride with you guys and stay at your house for the week either way so no matter your preference, Rhea knew it was going to work out.

You didn't even question her. You were just happy this was gonna happen the way you never ever knew you needed it to happen. You turned your head a little a kissed Rhea softly but passionately. You slowly sperated putting your foreheads together your eyes starting to get teary.

"What's wrong, lovely ?" You softly chuckled and gave her a quick kiss. "These are happy tears. I can't believe this happening"

Next Monday night, you were backstage sitting in the judgments club house. Damian and Dom were sitting beside you, Finn was sitting on the floor stretching, getting ready for his match, which was happening before your announcement. Rhea was making sure both your families were settled before coming back to the clubhouse.

"Fams all good, you guys ready ?" The boys all nodded and stood up, getting their final stretches in before the had to go out there. Rhea went over to you and helped you get up before holding your hand and giving you a quick kiss.

"When the match is over and it's just us in the ring, you can come out, okay ? Not before that, though, please, I don't want you getting hurt, either of you, " Rhea said before bending down and kissing you belly, then kissing your forehead. You smiled and nodded, loving Rhea's caring side. You wished her and the boys good luck before they walked out when their theme song started. You stayed behind in gorilla watching the match and waiting for your que to come out.

The match had been intense, Dom, Damian, and Rhea getting involved when they could without the Ref seeing and helping Finn get the win. Once their song started playing and all four of them stood in the middle of the ring celebrating, you got closer to the curtains, ready to go out there. You were nervous but also very excited.

"Well, well, well, would you look at that ? another win for the judgment day." Rhea said before doing her evil laugh. Some people cheered while others booed. Damian continued saying how everyone needed to Rise for the judgment day, Finn celebrated his win, saying they were the most dominant faction in all of wwe. Dom tried to talk but wasn't able to beacuse of the boos. Rhea shouted into the mic, telling the wwe universe to shut up, not only because of their stupid booing for Dom but also because they had another celebration to be had. At that, the crowd calmed down and started listening.

In that moment, your theme song started blasting, and you came out with a microphone in hand. People started cheering as they hadn't seen you in a while with you being on leave. Rhea sat on the second rope and held your hand, helping you climb in. You smiled at her and walked to the middle of the ring surrounded by your Judgment Day Family. You took a deep breath and listened to people cheering your name, your eyes already watering thanks to those damn hormones.

"I love you guys... I love you and this job so much... which is why I- no, we are here to share some big news with ya'll" you said, holding Rhea's hand.

"This industry has been a big part of my life sense I was little girl, and it will always be a big part of my life and now it's gonna be a big part of our babies life. This is why I wanted to share our babies gender here, surrounded by my family, my friends, you guys, the fans, inside a wwe ring. " Your face was already covered in tears thinking about your baby and how much you're gonna do so they have the best life you can possibly give them. Everyone started cheering just as excited to know the baby's gender as you were.

"Mami... wanna do the honors. " Rhea smiled before walking over to the ropes where the Pyro guys were handing her a remote, which controlled the pryo in the arena. You took a deep breath before everyone started counting down. "3... 2... 1..." Rhea pressed the button and pink Pyro, and confetti started going all around the Arena. You started crying and hugged Rhea, the boys gave you guys a moment before also joining in on the family hug.

After celebrating with the wwe universe you went backstage with Rhea and the boys. Right as you passed through the curtains all your friends were there congratulating you and giving you hugs. This was perfect, all you needed now was to see your family.

"Babe the boys are gonna get changed really quickly and then we can go find our fams and go out for dinner okay?" Rhea said once you were able to get away to a more quite area now that all the congrats had been given. You nodded and gave her a bright smile before waiting for them all to get ready.

Once everyone was ready you all meet with yours and Rheas families for dinner. You all talked and ate for a few hours. There sitting with your family - both blood and soul - you smiled. Your babygirl would be spoiled that for sure, but you wouldn't want it any other way. You were gonna give her the best life and you wouldn't wanna do it with anyone else than the people surrounding you and it's all thanks to a little girl with a big dream of getting to the wwe.

[likethe-month]

Revali x Reader Oneshot

Reader has she/her pronouns

I love Revali sm so here's something from my super intense LoZ phase from last year

---

Your legs swung back and forth from your spot on the flight lading, as you watched the Rito champion swoop back and forth. You could watch Revali fly for hours on end and never get bored of his daring swoops and graceful spins. You had always been curious about what it was like up there, but your fear of heights kept you confined to the ground.

Suddenly, Revali flew back down to the landing, interrupting your daydreaming.

“As much as I enjoy you watching me in complete adoration, I think it’s time that you joined me up there,” Revali said, crossing his arms haughtily after landing.

You blushed at his words. “I can’t fly, Revali.”

“Well obviously,” the Rito scoffed. “Do you have the paraglider Princess Zelda gave you?” He asked, drawing closer to you.

“I, er, yes I do,” you said, checking that you still had it with you. You didn’t quite like where this was going.

“Good, you’ll use that, then.”

What?! The highest you had ever glided was from the top of a tree!

“But it’s so high up!” You said, not daring to peer over the landing.

“Don’t be foolish. I’ll be right beside you the whole time. I’m sure you’ll fare a better chance at success with Hyrule’s best flyer with you.”

Swallowing your nervousness, you nodded. “Alright, but stay with me the whole time, okay?”

Once you were sure Revali wasn’t trying to trick you for the purpose of watching a naive hylian gliding off into the Hebra frontier, you stood beside your friend on the landing.

“Make sure to hold on tight the entire time, and keep your body steady so you can steer the glider,” Revali said, making sure you were ready.

“Okay, I think I can do it,” you said, shivering from both fear and the chilly air. Taking in a deep breath, you focused your gaze on the horizon instead of the bottomless darkness below you, you stepped off of the landing while holding onto your paraglider for dear life.

After a few seconds, you realized that it was working and you suddenly didn’t feel as scared anymore. Almost immediately, Revali appeared right beside you, steadily riding the wind. “Very good!” He praised in the most genuine way you had ever heard from him.

Ignoring your stomach doing a back flip, you smiled giddily as you continued to glide, the wind blowing in your face pleasantly. This was much more fun than you had imagined.

“Let’s get you a bit higher!” The champion said, suddenly taking a dive towards the ground.

For a minute you lost sight of him and panic began to set in. Where was that stupid bird?

Then, the soaring form of Revali shot up into the sky in front of you, creating a gust of wind that carried you upwards. You laughed with amazement as he kept you up in the sky, and he was soaring alongside you once again.

Shifting his gaze from the horizon and onto you, Revali felt the smallest smile appear on his face. You were a natural. Not that he doubted your abilities, of course, but many hylians tended to prefer their feet on the ground. You, however, looked like you belonged in the sky.

Suddenly, your voice broke him out of his stupor. “Revali? How do I land?”

Oops. The rito champion had forgotten to tell you how to land.

The moment your legs hit the snowy ground, you went rolling into the snow.

Revali gasped and swooped in to land by your side. “(Y/n)? (Y/n), are you alright?” He asked, frantically brushing snow off of you.

You, however, were laughing happily, even though you were covered in snow and slightly sore from your tumble. “That was amazing! I never knew I could do that!”

Revali’s concern washed away only to be replaced with relief and maybe a twinge of annoyance. “You had me worried, you silly girl.”

Taking the wing he offered, you lifted yourself up, still grinning excitedly. “We have to do this again,” you insisted, your cheeks and the tips of your ears flushed red from the cold and the rush of excitement you felt.

“Eager, are we? I’m rather surprised at your persistence considering you just fell into about four feet of snow,” Revali said, rolling his eyes at your determination.

“Oh. Right,” you said, brushing the last of the snow off of yourself. “We should probably head back for the village.”

“Hmm, are you sure? If we wait long enough, you might turn a rather nice shade of blue,” the rito beside you said, observing your shivering form.

You gave him a mischievous smile. “Oh really? That sure would be unfortunate.”

A few of Revali’s royal blue feathers puffed up, and he made a move to take off. “Well, if that’s how you’re going to be…”

“Wait! C’mon, Revali, I was joking around. Take me back to the village!” You near-begged to your companion, who seemed to be considering your request.

“Fine. You win, little Hylian,” Revali said, slightly stooping so you could climb on his back.

It never failed to surprise you how the proud Rito had started to let you fly on his back. When you first met him, he would always make you walk back to wherever you came from, swooping away before anyone could protest. But after a while, he would offer you rides on his back. Just you.

Though no one would ever admit it, the rito villagers would always think of what a strange duo you two made. The princess’s diplomatic assistant and the rito champion. You had been making more visits to the village, unable to curb your fascination. Many of the villagers were quite fond of you due to how much more pleasant Revali acted in your presence.

You climbed on to the champion’s back, giving him a small “ready” when you were situated.

Your first time on his back, you had been so afraid of falling off you found some of Revali’s feathers in your hand whenever you had landed. That had earned you quite the scolding. But now, you had no fear of slipping off, and you had even gotten to the point where you could sit up straight. This had caused the Rito to mutter something about “not being your horse,” but you didn’t mind.

Still cold from your fall, you leaned down closer to your companion, as he was the closest source of heat. His soft feathers provided plenty of warmth and soon you were laying down completely on his back.

You didn’t notice it but Revali had to hold back a squawk of surprise. Your hum of contentment at being so close to him shot his heart rate up to a level that only the dangers of battle could replicate. For the remainder of the journey back to the village the rito made sure to soar as smoothly as possible, even making a few circles around the village, just to spend some more time with you. Not that he would ever admit that, though.

After your departure, Revali’s thoughts were clouded by the memory of your smile, laughter, and promise to return soon. The inn you were staying at in the closest village wasn’t very far, but his heart ached strangely when he watched you leave. To his annoyance and a bit of embarrassment, some other ritos asked about you teasingly, saying that they’d never seen Revali act so gently toward a Hylian. Revali would scoff and deny anything his fellow villagers try to insinuate, but when he lay in bed that night, trying to go to sleep, he still could not fight off the image of you in his head.

As he tossed and turned, Revali found himself submitting to this new, unfamiliar feeling. Eventually, the thing that got him to sleep was the memory of your warmth against him as the two of you soared through the cold winds of Hebra.

[mikalame]

On live

you and tom, its like set in 2023, no hate to heidi but you and tom are married you are back up singer for bill in the band 

Tags:@violentnewmarley @oppopotamus

You place your phone down on the coffee table a vase holding it up write as you sip on your tea you just made you glace and some of the questions beings shown on the screen and most of them talking about where tom was you intentionally ignored it until bill asked where he was and when is “lazy bone ass” would get up little did bill know you and tom where getting into a bit of a heated make out sesh before bill started spamming you say shit like how you two need to come on and how the people need to see ALL of tokio hotel even tho gustav is never on/online.

 “I am here ladys and gentlemen” tom says in a sing-song tone a complete difrent contrast from before when he was groaning about having to do another live. He slides beside you and moves his arm to be around you neck resting his hand on your opposite shoulder he answers a couple questions and gentely sqeezes your shoulder you look at him and his eyes greet your then look down you follow his eyes and see hes looking and his harden crotch (idk what else word to use ) his eyes flick back up to the camera as not to draw attention to the problem he has, you look back at the camera aswell but slowly move you hand closest to him to slowly palm him through his sweats. After as few miniutes you inch your fingers closer to his waist band grabing both his sweats and boxers and try to pull them down tom fakes and streach and lifts his hips a little bit just enough to get his pants down but not enough for the camera to see his goods.

You look at him as a silent way to ask if he was okay with you doing this and he look as ready as anyone could be for this activity his eyes swimming full of lust you grab him and slowly pump him uo and down tom still talking to the other members and gustav and georg kindly joing the live so tom being more quiet is not as noticed. You spread around his pre-cum around his cock and stroke him faster and see toms breathing speeds up and his hand shake a little bit his hand go to the simble for the filters and he swipes giving him new fliters every second you giggle at some of the funny ones so you didnt look too distracted by what you were doing with your hands. 

You had been doing this for a while now you two had almost been caught when bill had to repeat to tom a question, when tom did answer the first noise he had made was a groan before quickly saying what bill wanted to hear “what was that groan from tom aye” georg raising and eyebrow with a questioning look in his eyes “oh just feeing a bit ill georg no need to get worryed over little ole me” tom says ending the sentence with a chuckle hiding his groan as his cock throbs more frequently sending a message that he was close to cumming . He leans forward and places his hand over his mouth to muffle the groans that are getting louder you stroke harder and tighter going faster you hear a loud groan come from tom and you down to see cum leaking out and lading on the sides of the table and on his sweats you look at toms face and see his eyebrows knitted together and jaw clenched tightly. You look at the screen sending a look off pity to them for tom “___ is tom algs” bill asked “yeah, i think he really not feeling well so sorry that we have to end the live on our part, i feel like tom wouldnt be to happy to see edits of his vomiting over the camera” you chuckle before exiting the live 

“Jesus christ, how did we pull that off” tom says panting between breaths trying ti even out his breathing “yeah ik i think georg might of caught on thank god he didnt say anything else tho” you giggle at toms exspression “we should do that again” you say thinking bout it in your “yeah, sure your the one that gonna cum tho i dont think i can do that again” tom sighs with a smile on his lips. 

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

Does Angel Steve spank us when we’re bad🥺

A/N: look, there are realities where everything works, so in this one that you just made up, the answer is of course yes. 

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist | devil & angel AU masterlist 

“What was that?” your hand’s lavish strokes upon the devil’s throbbing length froze as well as your entire body, your free fingers sneakily creeping back to rest upon your goosebump-ridden thigh. Turning your head to flash Steve your wide and guilty eyes, he got up from his seat and inched closer, “did you just touch yourself?” 

Breath getting caught in your throat, you answered cautiously, “no…” 

Slowly kneeling down beside you, yet somehow still looming above you like a thunderous cloud, the creature snatched up your arm and inspected your glistening fingers, “what did we agree on just ten minutes ago?” his tongue flicked lightly over the tips as he stared you down. 

“I-,” you attempted, though failed when his wide palm suddenly came down upon your bottom, “ah!” your right hand jittered open and let your grip on Eddie go. 

“What was it, huh?” he harshly swatted your skin once more, your body melting further with each blow. 

Heavy breathing, you tried fuzzily, “that I shouldn’t-…”

Snaking an arm around your middle, the man effortlessly hauled you over his lap, “that you shouldn’t what?” the strikes only worsening after you had laded. 

Your body jumping fiercely at every electric whack, you finally managed a strangled, “touch myself.”

“That’s right,” he purred in your ear as his palm continued to strike you, “you’re not allowed to touch that pretty little pussy all night.”

“I didn’t think it was such a complicated thing to understand, but apparently not,” Eddie chimed in with a throaty chuckle as you peeked over to see him picking up on your sudden absences, his fist enveloping his dick tightly as he watched you in delight, “has your brain already turned into complete mush? We’ve barely even begun, honey.” 

“You just couldn’t wait, could you?” you felt Steve’s touch soften as his palm lingered on your reddened cheek, drawing wide circles over the stinging flesh. Fixated on the arousal literally leaking out of you and dripping onto his thigh, the tips of his fingers neared your desperate petals, your entire body arching in want. “Is this what you needed?” you let out a shuttering moan as he all too softly, and borderline rudely, grazed over your cunt, “huh?” he dipped a single finger in, just shyly breaching and barely giving you any relief at all. With you pathetically wiggling in his lap, he suddenly snuffed out the ounce of hope he had given you by huffing, “well too bad,” and landing a sharp smack upon your puffy folds. 

Snatching up your chin, Eddie tilted it in his direction as the angel’s blows picked up once more, “we’re gonna take extra good time with you now,” sinking his thumb in passed your parted lips, his other hand lazily pumped his cock, “maybe even let us cum first and then, maybe then, we’ll consider repaying the favour.” 

© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble

[ladadeeladadeedoo]

Feliz navidad a toda esta gente linda <3<3<3

[theywantedplayer]

Request- can u do Baby can you please shut the fuck up?” With Quinn I’ve always pictured him being the grumpy, one in the sunshine, X grumpy, trope

It was late at night quinn was exhausted already in bed about to fall asleep but you kept asking more and more questions about what his family was like.

Tomorrow you and Quinn were supposed to fly out and see Quinn’s whole family and you were a bit nervous. You had your back to the beds headboard as you looked over your flights and Quinn’s back was to you trying to get some sleep.

“What does your mom like? Should I get her something”

“What about your dad I’ve never talked to him”

“Oh and jack and Luke! Sure I haven’t seen them in so long, what if they’ve changed! I won’t know what to do”

“And what if your parents don’t like me , OH MY GOD WHAT IF THEY DONT LIKE ME!” You panicked

Quinn rolled over to face you, eyes squinting at the brightness of the laptop screen.

“Baby can you please shut the fuck up?” He groaned “their gonna like you ok” he told as he pushed your laptop screen down and placed it on his bedside table.

“And no jack and Luke have not changed, Jack is still a small child and Luke’s still an antisocial giant it’s gonna be fine, know can we please go to bed” he whined

You lade down beside him face to face

“I know im sorry im just nervous” you apologized “like what happeneds if your mom asks me a question and I don’t know the answer and she thinks I’m dumb or or! They think I’m some stupid puck bunny” you started rambling again

“Shhhh no no I’m not doing this again” Quinn groaning pushing your face into his chest to silence your worries. He could still hear you worrying into his chest about stupid things that would never happen.

When you ended up stoping he whispered in your ear

“Their gonna love you”

You moved your face out of his chest to look at him.you could barely make out his face in the dark room only seeing the hair sticking up in all the places

“Are you sure?” You asked again

“Of course im sure, their gonna love you” he reassured kissing your forehead “now can we please go to sleep”

[onetimetwotimesthreetimess]

prompt request: older malec 😬 (second chance romance veryyy much accepted )

I know you’re fishing for that BTLIO happy ending that you’re never getting from me nsnsbsmsksskjs

_________

High school reunions are kind of overhyped, in his opinion.

It’s a frivolous attempt by one at pretending that their teenage years were not as miserable as they remember it to be.

Magnus’s quite over it, if he’s being honest.

He never wants to meet most of the people from his high school ever again.

But he’s back in his town after 10 years and Catarina forces him to attend the event.

“Magnus, this is a great way to show up all those assholes that made you miserable.”

“Show up how?” He asks.

Catarina raises an eyebrow at him and he relents.

“Fine. I guess my million dollar worth could be a way.”

“You think?”

He sighs. “But is that it? Financial success? Is that all that matters in this world?”

Catarina side eyes him, “Wow, this town really brings out the angsty teenager in you.”

Magnus rolls his eyes at her. “I just don’t like these people. And I don’t think showing my wealth is a way to prove that I’m better than them.”

“But you are better than them.”

His face breaks into a smile. “And that’s why I love you, my dear.”

His teenage years in this town were to quite simply put it—a nightmare.

They were filled with homophobia, racism and everything in between.

Magnus remembers nothing but being sad in most of them.

Most of them. Not all of them.

Some of them were good memories. The best ones of his life.

He knows those memories had nothing to do with this school or the town but something else.

Something angelic.

Someone angelic.

He puts on his most flamboyant and dramatic outfit, now that no one can hurt him with words about how he chooses to dress up like.

Magnus puts on a purple sheer shirt, with a deep, very deep v neck cut. Half of his chest was visible, with seven necklaces laded on it.

There’s one small necklace still on his neck, it doesn’t match his outfit but it was given by his mom , fixed by his Rafael, he doesn’t know how and he kind of misses them both terribly today.

It’s something about this town.

At least one of them, he’ll get to see again after two days. Rafael wanted to come with him but too but Magnus didn’t want to bring him here. There’s too much sadness here. And he always wants to keep his baby away from all that sadness.

Two hours later, they reach their high school. The event is happening in the gymnasium, even ten years later.

With huge letters, the banner reads- “Class of 2012”.

“It’s weird, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

Magnus goes around the room, meeting people he’s forgotten by now. Some he remembers like yesterday.

“Magnus,” A beautiful woman with curly hair approaches him. “Magnus Bane?”

Magnus thinks for a second before his eyes widen in surprise—good surprise. “Maia?”

“It’s been so long,” she smiles and pulls him in a hug.

“Too long.”

“You disappeared from here.”

“I didn’t disappear,” he says, not without a flair. “I just made a grand exit.”

They both know he’s kind of lying. Magnus had disappeared. More accurately, he’d run away.

It had been too hard. Breathing had become too hard.

If he’d stayed here a minute longer with all the painful memories, Magnus would have died.

Leaving this town had saved him.

He meets a few other people after that. It’s not half as horrible as he’d expected.

“Magnus?”

He recalls that voice as clear as a day. He turns to find the most beautiful woman in front of him.

She was always beautiful but right now, she looks a hundred times prettier. He also knows that it’s nothing to do with her physical appearance but everything to do with the huge smile on her face.

The visible happiness.

She’s never looked freer.

None of the Lightwood siblings ever did.

“Isabelle?”

She jumps in her arms, still with all the love and joy like they’re sixteen again.

Like the little girl who used to help him climb up her house so that they could play housie at night.

Or after a particularly horrible night when they needed some cheering up—thanks to the Lightwood parents.

If it wasn’t for the warm hug, he would have been scared to hug her back. But there’s no such feeling anymore as he wraps his arms around her tightly.

“Oh, darling,” he breathes. “It’s so nice to see you.”

“You too,” Isabelle says happily and he knows she means it.

Isabelle was a two years younger than them so technically she shouldn’t be here. There’s only one reason for her to be here and considering that Simon is lurking not five steps away, with a giddy smile on his face, he has to be right.

“You being here, I can only assume you are still with Sherman,” he grins, the old joke falling easily from his lips.

“I do.”

“Hello, Magnus,” Simon waves excitedly.

They talk for a while but Magnus is a bit distracted throughout.

“He’s here, you know,” Isabelle says.

His brows furrows, “Who?”

Isabelle rolls his eyes. “You know who.”

He does.

Magnus didn’t want to come to the reunion for the following reasons:

1. He dislikes most of these people.

2. He ran away ten years ago and it’s weird to explain to everyone why that happened.

3. Alexander Gideon Lightwood.

The first two reasons ignite a strange anxiety in him. But the last one, it stirs up feelings and emotions he’s tried to kept hidden for years.

If Magnus tries to open the Pandora’s box, he might never be able to shut it down.

“I—I don’t know if—” he stutters, slightly annoyed but not surprised that Alec lightwood can still bring out the teenager in him, “I don’t know if he’d want to see me.”

Isabelle gives him a small smile. “It’s been ten years, Magnus. I think it would be okay.”

He wonders if she knows. If she knows why he did what he did.

Out of all his friends, he had only ever confided in Catarina and Clary at the time.

“Okay.”

He roams around the room, trying to find the man. Then he spots him. It’s not difficult. Even though the last time Magnus saw him was a decade ago, when they were teenagers, still not fully grown into their bodies, still with a bit of acne and awkward smiles on their faces.

But Magnus knows. He knows the man standing in front of him, with his back to Magnus’s face, in a navy blue sweatshirt, amidst a crowd of people fully dressed up in tuxedos and dresses has to be none other than Alec Lightwood.

He musters up all the strength he can, but the air closes up around him, his feet freeze on spot and he finds himself unable to move or speak.

All he can recall is the last time he was infront of Alec.

The last, horrible, horrible words he had hurled at the man who was his entire world.

But it’s been ten years and if anyone deserves an apology or hundred from Magnus, it’s him.

So, he shoves inside his pain, the guilt and everything he’s feeling right now and has been for the past two decades and opens his mouth.

“Alexander?”

It’s the easiest thing in the world to notice the man’s body tense up at the name. There’s a full few seconds of absolutely no movement before Alec moves—oh, so slowly.

His heart stutters inside his chest, rapidly beating inside.

From the ages of twelve to seventeen, Magnus had only felt two emotions in the world. Pain, at everything happening inside his house and love—for Alec.

His life had space for nothing else at the time.

Then slowly, and then very instantly, only pain had remained as he had pushed all the love away.

“Magnus?”

He’s still as beautiful as ever; Magnus thinks. But somehow more so. There’s that teenage shyness missing from his face, replaced with the handsomeness of a grown man.

Alec looks breathtaking, with his wild hair, dark and gorgeous. His eyes, as blue and shiny as ever.

A hundred emotions flicks over his face and it breaks his heart to realise that he understands none of them, having lost the privilege to read Alec years ago.

Then, his face settles on a small smile. A tight lipped one. Not Alec’s real one.

Alec’s real smile, that’s something one can never forget.

It’s a special privilege, to be able to see Alec Lightwood smile.

“Hi,” he says, carefully, not knowing the kind of reaction he will get.

If Alec tells him to fuck off and never show his face again, he would understand.

He would deserve it.

He had broken Alec’s heart in the worst of ways.

But Alec doesn’t yell, doesn’t tell him to fuck off. He smiles. Only if a bit careful.

“It’s been a minute since I have seen you.”

He chuckles, “Yeah. Been a minute.”

There’s a few minutes of silence afterwards. He doesn’t want what he’s supposed to say. What either of them could say after the shitshow everything was the last time they saw each other.

They stand awkwardly before it gets too difficult for Alec and he excuses himself. “I think someone is calling me.”

Magnus sighs dejectedly as Alec leaves, his heart breaking inside his chest.

This is why Magnus didn’t want to come back to this stupid, fucking town ever again. It brings nothing but pain and disappointment.

Catarina has asked him through the years if he regrets his decision. And the answer is always a resounding no.

He needed to choose someone at the time, and he chose Alec.

No one will ever know though and he’s quite okay with that choice.

Alec and he cross paths a couple of times in the next two hours but they don’t talk, Alec still avoids him like the plague. Or just because there’s nothing to talk.

He’s a little angry at Alec; if he’s being honest.

It’s not right, he knows. But he wants Alec to be angry at him right now, yell or shout about why he did what he did. But Alec does none of those things and it hurts more than he would like to accept.

Maybe, for Alec, it wasn’t that big of a deal.

It was just a break up after all.

People break up all the time.

They weren’t special.

Even the thought leaves a bitter taste in his mouth because he knows with everything inside of him tjay to him, it meant everything.

Alec Lightwood was everything.

“So, guess what we’re about to do now?” One of the organisers, Michelle announces.

“Leave?” He mutters, only loud enough for Catarina to hear; who chuckles in response.

“Shut up. You love a party.”

“Not this one.”

“Remember when we all put a time capsule under that big tree in the campus?” Michelle screams. “We’re about to open them.”

Oh.

The time capsule.

He recalls early senior year, everyone giggling and laughing, putting their hopes, future plans into the time capsule.

He remembers his ambitions. Plans. He had a lot at the beginning of senior year.

By the end of senior year, he had none left. Not a whole lot of hope either.

“What did you put in your time capsule?” Catarina asks.

He frowns, trying to recall. “I don’t really remember. You?”

Catarina thinks for a moment before her eyes widen in embarrassment, “Oh god. I put something very embarrassing.”

Magnus chuckles, “What?”

“You’re never finding out, Bane.”

There’s too much chatter then, everyone discussing their capsules, asking about others. For a second, it feels like he’s back to being seventeen again.

“Come on, let’s find out.”

“I don’t wanna,” he whines but then he sees Isabelle, Jace, Simon and Clary all run in the direction, dragging a grumpy Alec and he follows.

“Fine. Let’s go.”

“Ask Clary out. Go Pro,” Jace’s time capsule notes and he hurrayed, kissing Clary on the mouth.

Clary finds a photo of all six of them, huddling on top of each other and they all warm up inside at the memory.

They had all been at Magnus’s house that day, the one in the photo.

They all tear up a little.

Isabelle finds a small bottle of alcohol that she had stolen from her dad, pulling a chuckle out of everyone as she chugs it in one go. “No regrets,” she screams.

“Simon?”

Simon finds a small picture of him and his dad. “I lose things all the time. I didn’t want to lose this picture.”

Isabelle pulls him in for a hug and kisses his temple.

A little excitement simmering up, Magnus opens his box. There’s a single note inside, and when he reads it, his heart breaks for the thousandth time.

“What do you have Magnus?”

His voice breaks, “Excuse me,” and runs away from there.

Tears stream down his face as he runs towards the terrace. It’s an isolated spot, entry restricted to students but long back, Magnus and his friends have found out a way to break that lock. Almost a decade, and the lock is still not fixed.

He sits on the ledge and cries his heart out.

It angers him so much, being here. It’s like suddenly he’s transported back to ten years ago, with his fragile teenage heart.

After a while, he doesn’t know how long, there’s footsteps on the terrace.

“Hi.”

He chuckles dryly. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Do what?”

“Comfort me. I’m just having a moment.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah.”

They stay silent but Magnus has been never been a fan of silence so he asks, “How did you know I was here?”

It’s a stupid question, really. But atleast it’s a question. Atleast they’ll talk.

Because Magnus doesn’t know how long he can go on without Alec talking to him.

Ten years was too long.

“So,” he drags his words, “What was in your time capsule?”

“A list,” Alec chuckles, but it’s weak.

He knows that as well. They had written put their time capsules together. Right next to each other. But they hadn’t shown each other what they had written.

“Stop peaking,” Magnus recalls Alec squealing as he tried to peek into Alec’s list.

“Come on, show me.”

“No.”

Magnus had dragged his finger along Alec’s neck then, as he got closer and purred against his ear, “Please darling. It’s me.”

Alec’s body had shivered under his touch. “Stop. I know what you’re trying to do.”

“And what would that be?” He grinned.

He had tried some more but Alec had not shown him.

That day, it had felt impossible that there would come a day when they would actually get to open that. Ten years had felt too long at the time.

Right now, he can’t even recall where the past ten years went.

“You want to see it?” Alec suggests.

Magnus’s eyes widen. “You will show me?”

“Why not?” Alec shrugs. “We’ve got nothing to lose.”

The words sting, burning a red and angry feeling inside of him but he tries not to show it at the surface. “Okay.”

Alec passes a piece of paper to him.

Magnus takes a deep breath and turns it.

Alec’s scrawny handwriting brings out a smile out of him.

1. Leave Idris.

2. Come out to everyone.

3. Become an archery player.

4. Get Max and Izzy and Jace out of his parents control.

5. Marry Magnus.

A choked sob leaves Magnus’s mouth. And still, he can find in himself to be incredibly proud that Alec was able to fulfil four out of the five things.

“Four out of five isn’t bad,” he tries to keep lightness in his voice but fails miserably.

“I guess,” Alec says, his voice tight.

Before anyone says another word, Magnus takes out the piece of paper from his pocket and passes it to Alec.

He avoids his gaze as Alec reads the words.

Magnus’s list wasn’t really a list. It contains of only one thing and Magnus couldn’t even fulfil that.

There’s just words that he knows will mock him for an eternity.

Mama is sick. But don’t worry, stay with Alec. He will make everything okay. He will make you okay.

A hurt noise leaves Alec’s mouth this time and he feels his own heart splintering. He wants to hug the man and tell him that he’s sorry. That it wasn’t his fault. That he’s good. But he does none of that.

“Magnus—“ Alec says brokenly.

He knows what Alec is asking. Magnus didn’t plan to ever tell anyone—especially Alec about this but he is tired—so tired of the pain, of the weight of the secret paining him for a decade.

For all the love he doesn’t know what to do with.

For their hopeful teenaged selves that believed nothing could come between them but something—Magnus, did.

“You needed to leave.”

“What?”

“If you had stayed in Idris, you would have died. You were dying here under the weight of your parents expectations and you needed to leave this town. I could not be another thing between you and your freedom,” he says hurriedly, the air around him closing.

“Magnus, what are you talking—?”

“You had that scholarship in your hand, Alexander,” Magnus breathes harshly, almost gasping. “I couldn’t let you stay for me.”

“Your mom was dying, Magnus,” Alec says harshly, and the words hurt but they’re true. “Of course I wanted to stay. I wanted to stay for you.”

“I couldn’t let that happen,” he admits. “You had a whole life, a whole career ahead of you. I couldn’t stop you.”

“You didn’t have to ask. I would have done anyways,” Alec all but screams and it feels almost cathartic, that the other man is finally screaming.

He’s positive Alec hasn’t screamed in a decade.

“You think I don’t know that?” Magnus exhales. “That’s why I had to do what I did.”

There’s silence then. Just their loud breathing audible.

Before Alec speaks, as tired and pained as he feels, “You broke my heart, Magnus.”

Tears stream down his face and he wipes them off harshly. “I’m sorry.”

“All I did was love you,” Alec whispers. “And then I didn’t understand.”

“I did not want you to understand, Alexander. For that, I am incredibly sorry.”

They stay silent then. Not knowing what to do with all of this.

At least now, Alec has all the answers.

He thinks it’s time for him to leave. He told Alec everything there was to know. Now he needs to leave this town and these people again.

It’s the most unexpected and magical thing in the world when Alec speaks after a few minutes, “You want to go for a walk?”

————————————————-

As they talk; Magnus will find out about Max, Alec’s three year old son. Alec will show him a picture and it would be the cutest kid in the world.

Five years later, Magnus will make sure that Alec crosses off the fifth thing off his list too.

And in his vows, he thanks Alec for making him okay.

————-

[make-me-imagine]

A Step Forward

Prompt/Request: A takes B's hand to help them down steps/wall, and doesn't let go

Pairing: Stephen Strange x Gn!Reader

Requested By: Anonymous (this is a leftover Valentines Request lol)

Words: 617; super short I know, but at least I managed to write something lol

-

After everyone had disappeared from the sanctum grounds for the evening, you and Stephen walked side by side through the training area.

"This group seems promising" you noted as you thought back on the group you had been helping him train.

Stephen hummed "Yes, but they still have a long way to go."

"You say that every time"

"That's because it's true every time" he said as he smiled at you.

"You said that about me too, and then I helped save the world, and your life two weeks later."

He rolled his eyes but laughed "You are a rare exception." he added, his tone a bit softer, making your heart thump.

You smiled as you headed up onto a platform "A rare exception? That's a rare compliment from thee Stephen Strange."

Stephen watched as you picked up a training dummy and set it aside, his eyes gazed over you fondly.

"Why do you think I now allow you to teach alongside me? You're one of the best here."

You smiled down at him "And here I thought it was because you and Wong bicker when you train it together"

Stephen smiled, "That too"

Walking over to the ledge of the platform, you prepared to jump down but Stephen stepped forward and reached out his hand for you to take.

You were caught off guard by the action, but brushed away the warmth in your chest as you placed your hand in his. Leaping down he kept you steady as you laded on the pavement below.

Stephen continued to walk and you expected his hand to slip from yours, but instead, he only entertwined his fingers with yours as he walked along side you.

You looked down at your intertwined hands before looking back at him. His face was turned away from you, as he seemed to avoid your gaze, and instead eyed some training targets.

Your stomach flipped as you repressed a smile, noting how warm your face felt.

You and Stephen had been dancing around your obvious feelings for one another for what seemed like ages. You both knew how you felt, but you were both hesitant to start anything. Your lives were dangerous, was it worth the risk?

But now, as his hand gripped yours it seemed as though he had made that decision for the both of you.

As you headed back towards the sanctum, you allowed yourself to softly squeeze his hand. A subtle way of telling him you wanted it too. You saw his smile widen a bit from the corner of your eye as he squeezed your hand in return.

Heading into the Sanctum, he did not remove his hand from yours, even as others walked past, obviously noticing. You saw the looks on their faceas as they smiled as they passed. Most of them thinking it was about time something happened with you two.

Finally stopping, Stephen turned towards you and looked down at your hands before he cleared his throat softly. He gently caressed your hand with his thumb before he met your eyes, a soft smile ghosting his lips.

"Would you like to go get dinner?"

Stephen was still uncertain of how to word his feelings, uncertain of how to tell you just how much he wanted to be with you. but the fact that you allowed him this gentle form of affection told him you knew he was trying.

You nodded with a smile "Yes."

He smiled in return as you both continued down the sanctum halls, hands still linked, as you walked a bit closer than before. It may not be perfect yet, but it was a step forward, and a promising one at that.

xx End xx

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(also RB for more answers blah blah everyone says this for attention yada yada Lorem ipsum I'm running out of things to say ladee dah)