#lord in heaven. you are all so stupid

[knaveofmogadore]

Losing my mind at the amount of people on reddit who will straight up admit to poaching or breaking conservation laws like genuinely

[hxzbinwrites]

Hey!! Saw that u were taking request <3 I was thinking that an Alestor x wife!reader being a power (but absolutely terrifying) couple would be soooo cool, like maybe they already knew each other from when they were humans, and Alestor is just 10000% a simp for his wifey lol. Hope u like it!

Alastor x Wife! Overlord! Reader | Forgiveness |

Warnings ⚠️: Cussing, Death, Killing, Mentions of Alastor being a Cannibal, Reader makes STUPID DECISIONS

In the Pride Ring is where all of the sinners and Overlords alike mingle. The uppermost ring of Hell and the closest to Heaven. That’s where some of the most feared and powerful beings live. Two of those entities being Alastor, the Radio Demon, and (Y/n), the Jazz Demon.

Together, they rule their districts with an iron grip. While some Overlords team up, like the Vees, Alastor and (Y/n) were the first to do it. Well, it makes sense really, especially because they were close during their respective times alive on Earth.

——————

Three gunshots were heard that fateful night. One ending a mans life by his hand, one ending the witness’s life by his hand, and one ending his by justice’s hand. No more Bayou Killer, but he took two more lives before he went. Awful, sick man. Good thing he’s in Hell now…

Alastor hissed as his back hit the pavement. His squinted eyes took in his surroundings, he was in Hell. Hmm, no shocker there. What was a shock was seeing the body next to his.

“Ugghh” They groaned, sitting upright on the pavement next to him. They locked eyes. It was (Y/n). Before Alastor could even speak, she pounced on him, pushing him back into the pavement.

“You sick son of a BITCH!! YOU KILLED ME!! SHOT ME LIKE I WAS AN ANIMAL FOR YA NEXT MEAL!!” She yelled, shaking him back and forth by gripping his collar. His collar looked identical to hers, and he tuned out her yelling, he noticed her attire. She was now wearing a black suit with red and white accents, one that looked like a reverse image of his. Except a few details weren’t the same, hers looked more feminine, but also had less harsh edges to it. She looked more elegant while he looked more harsh.

He then looked up to her face, she had red eyes and long, silky black hair, with red underneath. He looked to the top of her head and noticed two fluffy, black ears. They were currently pressed to her scalp, a clear indicator of her unhappiness at the current moment.

“AND TO THINK, AFTER ALL OF THAT BEGGIN, YOU WAS JUST DYING TO GET ME ON YOUR RADIO SHOW!! WELL LOOK AT US NOW, MR. ALASTOR. LOOK. AT. US. NOW. WHAT EVEN ARE YOU, YOU SICK FREAK. EVERYONE KNEW THE BAYOU KILLER ATE FOLKS. IF YOU WERENT SHOT, WERE YOU GONNA EAT ME?? WAS I GONNA NOT EVEN BE ABLE TO HAVE A BURIAL NEXT TO MY PA, CAUSE YOU ATE ME!? OH LORD HELP ME!!”

Alastor rolled his eyes, feeling no remorse for the doe that whined above him. (Y/n) was a famous musician in Louisiana, particularly in Jazz. Alastor had begged her to come onto his radio show, play some tunes for his devoted fans. She agreed, but that night Alastor didn’t show to the studio. She heard shouting in the woods across the street from the building, stupidly she went to investigate. She saw the oh so famous radio host, and with a bang of a shotgun the other man was dead. Probably in Heaven now. Trying to stay silent, (Y/n) tried to back away before a branch snapped, like a doe her eyes widened before she darted away, only to be shot right in the heart and drop down to the ground. She heard another shot faintly in the distance before she felt the wind brush past her as she fell.

“My dear, I apologize.” Alastor said, gently grabbing (Y/n)‘s hand. “It was never my intention to make you my target. I knew that if word got out about my….hobbies….that my reputation would be ruined. No more radio show.”

“You can apologize for the rest of eternity” She scowled, smacking his hand away before standing up,” You’re a MONSTER. Leave me ALONE. Hopefully someone down here will be nice, but I’m not taking no help from you”. (Y/n) finally walked away, leaving a very annoyed Alastor sitting there.

———————

About 20 years later

Alastor was a feared Overlord now, rising the ranks out of seemingly nowhere. Even with this newfound power and respect, (Y/n) still wanted nothing to do with him. She was famous in her own way. Music was not very abundant in Hell, and she profited off of that. She had little to no competition in the music industry. Becoming an icon of Hell, her name was in everyone’s mouth, making Alastor yesterday’s news, which irked him to no end.

‘I need her.’ Alastor initially thought,’ with someone as influential as her now, having her on my side will make my power increase tenfold.’ But after many times of asking over the years, he just yearned for her admiration. Not only to be on his side, but by his side. He didn’t know where the newfound obsession came from, but Alastor knew he wouldn’t stop until he brought her to him.

Alastor made his way to her huge studio, basically a small turf at this point. Without ever fighting, she’d managed to become a little bit of an Overlord, just not to the extent she could be called one. He made his way up to her penthouse, knowing the way by heart since this is not the first time he’s made a visit for an alliance.

“What Alastor.” (Y/n) asked, not even looking up from her sheet music she was writing.

“Hello my dear!” Alastor said,”lovely to see you again! I just miss you so much darling!”

“Miss me from what?” She said, turning around to meet his eyes,” we were aquatinted when we were alive, and then you killed me. What exactly do you miss me from?”

“I just miss seeing you.” He said in a softer tone,”Please (Y/n), you must realize that your death was an accident. I was never planning to hurt you. I was never planning to do anything to you.”

(Y/n)’s head tipped down, her ears pressed to her scalp,”but you did, Alastor. You killed me.”

“My dear….” He said, getting closer slowly, like she’d dart off at any given moment, just for him to not see her ever again. “My dear, I cannot imagine the pain you’ve gone through. I know it’s been a few years now, but that’s a few years you could’ve still been alive. Found a husband, had a better music career, just lived. I took that from you, and I’m…..I’m sorry.”

“I know Alastor.” She said, hugging him. Even though he hated when people touched him, she did not know this, so he internally decided to let this one time be the exception. “You know I can never fully forgive you….but after all of these years, I think I can at least try to have you in my life….but if you screw up ANY, I’m gonna kill you. I don’t care if you’re an Overlord or whatever the hell you’re doing, I will kill you like you killed me.”

“Hmm, fair enough” He shrugged, breaking off the hug as he sat down in the chair across from hers.

———————

Present Day

“So hold up” Angel said, looking at the two powerful Overlords,”He literally killed you and you were like, ‘oh well, I forgive you’. What the hell (Y/n)?”

(Y/n) was a true Overlord know. Once she let Alastor back into her life, he taught her the ways of toppling Overlords. She didn’t posses near the amount of power that he had, so he did the gruesome part for her. Building her musical empire (and later on having to shoo of Vox who begged her to join his up and coming ‘Television’ idea after Alastor shot him down).

“Oh I’d hardly call it forgiving.” Alastor said,”I get constantly reminded about it every day, multiple times a day. You wonder why it took us 60 years to even get engaged.”

(Y/n) just rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. Alastor smirked, looking over at his wife.

“Well, what else was I supposed to do? The man kept coming by begging me every week for TWENTY YEARS!! Lovesick puppy if you ask me.”

Charlie squealed, hugging onto Vaggie. “Look Vaggie! That could be us one day!!”

“I hope not” Vaggie said,” A freaky cannibalistic overlord and his delusional companion. I’m fine with staying as us.”

“No Vaggie! I meant married! Wouldn’t that be fun!! Married for a long time!! Forever!!”

While Charlie was helping Vaggie stop short circuiting, (Y/n) and Alastor just looked at one another with a knowing glance. Alastor took her hand and kissed her knuckles, smiling up at her.

“Thank you again my dear, for letting me back into your life. I’m eternally sorry for what I did.”

“I know you are Alastor, plus I’d be dead already now regardless.” (Y/n) giggled,”I still don’t know what overcame me that day. I mean, who lets someone back into their life after doing that!! I am glad I did though. It’s like you said in that apology, I have a husband, I have a huge music career, but I’m not living, technically, but it feels like it!!”

Alastor chuckled,”that’s right, my precious doe. Now, I am off to go grab lunch for the both of us! If you excuse me, I shall make a trip down to the Cannibal District, and then over to the grocery store for your food!”

———————

Word Count: 1,560

[ophelieverse]

This is the first time that i send in a request,but I’ve been your fan for quite a while now🥰🥰I love your blog and your content,especially your writing,so can I please ask you to write something about Daemon x niece!reader where she is the daughter of Aemma and Viserys and he’s obsessed with her?It can be whatever you want!Thank you so much!🫶🏻

⋆ ˚｡⋆little bird

Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader

-Summary:Daemon is in Harrenhal and he’s tormented by the memories of the only woman that he had ever loved:his niece,the long gone princess Y/n.

-Warnings:death of character,incest,age gap,Daemon never married Laena,reader has valyrian features,reader died of childbirth,reader is mother of twin girls(you can decide if Baela and Rhaena),mental torture(?)sexual thoughts,Daemon being himself,Alys tormenting Daemon and him losing his mind.

•-aww thank you so much for your words and support,also thank you for requesting and let me know what you guys think,sending love🩷🫶🏻

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The palate is a treacherous bastard,a vile traitor.The palate,the tongue,the teeth,the throat:damned monsters,damned stabs in the shoulders.

They rebelled and tortured Daemon intimately,as well as the strawled murmurs of soaking whispers in the dark and lonely castle,as well as the murmurs of that nameless woman.Everything bothered him,in that world built by the blood-stained hands of false and courteous murderers,and the raw truths of the tormented men were no exception.

After all,he should have known - and he knew it, he knew it and he had not stopped,he had become crazy! -that once he tasted the most precious wine of the Seven Kingdoms his mouth would detest any other drink.His primordial instinct and his spirit of survival had tried to warn him,to make him understand,to make him glimpse the inexorable fate in which there would be a before and there would of course be an after.

Because any other flavor would never have been as sweet as the taste of her.

And nothing more would have been the same, nothing would make sense anymore.Daemon had only really understood it after kissing her:it had become impossible to even look at another woman.

He could still remember the first time that he had kissed her,before going to win the war in the Narrow Sea in her father’s name.He had only kissed her once and it had been like savoring the mouth of a fucking divine gift that fell down from heaven,kissing a promise of grace and eternal damnation.An inexperienced,sweet,innocent mouth.

His,Y/n was all his.

She was still a girl at the time,two years younger than her older sister Rhaenyra,just a naive girl that stug with two skinny legs and without even a woman's shape,the silver-haired doll,the trained King's Landing little bird that squeakes and chirps in the shade of her father's words and actions:Y/n, stupid and spoiled princess,daughter of the Long Summer,had let herself be kissed by him and had not stopped him,she had not pushed him away.

Crazy him and crazy her.Or maybe just him, or maybe just her.Who went crazy first,who did? Who had it been?Daemom didn't remember the fucking way those damn events that had folded him in two,disintegrated his entire soul.Killed him not once but a hundred,a thousand,a thousand and again a thousand times.

Who went crazy first?Who?Daemon has started to believe it was him.

It’s been years since the last time he had kissed Y/n,years since he last touched her warm skin,looked into her bright lilac eyes,that he had saw her with their daughters in her arms.

Yet,that night,in the dark and anguish halls of Harrenhal,his little bird had shown up to him.The ghost of Y/n imagine had suddenly appeared in a corridor in the west wing yard like an evanescent appearance,like his worst nightmare and had resumed chirping the same nauseating and tormenting phrases she cunningly gave to all her lords,to all her knights.

She had chirped her thanks,the beautiful words she used to tear from the verses of her beloved romantic ballads,which she used to steal from the fairy tales narrated with placid fervor from the endless rows of her old and decrepit Septas.

She had chirped and chirped and chirped.

Daemon hadn't listened to any of her melancholic sentences and hadn't even paid the slightest attention to her,nothing at all.So the deities and that witch then must have decided to punish him and mock him.They had taken their revenge on all his blasphemies and on all the lives he had snatched with joy.

The pale light of the moon had begun to inflame Y/n long silver braids,braids knotted in a bushy tangle,shaped into circles of blood rays that made her hairstyle look like the one of a small child.The young and innocent girl she once was before Daemon had touched her.A stupid hairstyle that she persided - with a pout - to make her maidens intertwine just like her mother did when she was just a small child.

The red dress that wrapped perfectly around her body,the one that she had wore at the tourney for her last Name Day as a maiden,seemed made of pure liquid blood.Daemon was lost.The red had become fire,it had turned into copper,it had melted into wine.A crown of thorns and autumn leaves in the cold wind of the godswood.

Y/n rosy mouth had stretched out in a brief,false smile,yet what was really false about her?And her elusive purple eyes had reminded him of reality.

The reality where she no longer existed,the one where now he was married to his older sister.He just wants to use her.Everyone uses everyone.He remind himself,he could never love her,not in the way he still loves Y/n.

Suddenly Daemon had realized the existence of his foolish thoughts,he had awakened by the torpor in which her sweet and familiar scent had induced him,and he had understood that he was behaving like a little child that had just woken up from a bed dream,an inexperienced young boy,he looked at her hair,looked at her ephelids,and didn't focus on those small stall tits and her flat,tight belly,and then he thought he had to fix it,that he had to prove to himself that he was a man.

Not the silly man who secretly watched the tears entangled in the eyelashes of a little girl who still slept with the dolls,squeezed in his little embrace,but the real man who fucked women in brothels and got rid of all his most itchy desires. Not the man who trembled in front of a little girl's gaze,but the man who fucked the women quickly and impatiently,without even looking them in the face,fulfilling his needs and his morbid needs.

The man that Daemon was before devoting his life,heart and soul to Y/n.

These thoughts had clouded his soaky mind with vulgar images,they had made his body drunk and frenny.Then he had stretched out towards Y/n, almost staggering,and had devoured her face. Mouth to mouth,he had eaten her lies and her breath.Was it really her,the spectral and little figure that had hunted him since he had step in Harrenhal?Was it really her,the cold and young body he was holding in his arms?He didn’t cared,he needed to feel what he once called love.

His little girl still tasted good,just like he remembered,something sweet,extremely pure. Snow and honey together,what an absurd madness of the senses.Y/n had closed her mouth,her lips soft and eyelids tight,but she had done nothing else.She hadn't disappeared from his touch just like the night before,his rough hands that had begun to mess up her hair and squeeze her thin throat like they used to.

They had kept both eyes closed and he had thought that she was beautiful even in the dark of the dull and worn lights,even in the black of the lowered eyelashes,under the Sun or under the Moon.

Y/n was still as beautiful as the day he had lost her.

And now that she was there,real or not,Daemon had kissed her with a disturbing need and Y/n mouth had moved on his without opening,without granting him anything more.Nothing more of what he already had when she was flourishing with life.

In that moment a cold wind had crept all over his back,until it even caressed his neck and wet cheeks.When did he started crying?Too late he had realized that it had not been a cold wind that had appeased his burns.

«Y/n,my Y/n.»Daemon had murmured«My little bird of the summer,my frightened little bird.»he kept talking on her lips.

«Uncle.»even her voice sounded like she was still that young girl he used to watch run to him,blushing when he would bring her a gift from one of the cities he had visited.

She had caressed his pained face and kissed him like a little girl who can't even imagine that there is anything else after a kiss on the lips.Like a sweet child that still dreamed and hoped for a bright and long future ahead of her.

Maybe at that moment Daemon must have said her name again,because the figure in his arms smiled«Y/n,my little girl,Y/n.»like a prayer.

«Do you still desire me,uncle?Do you still think about me?»her voice,a soft whisper,that cut into his heart.

How naive and stupid,stupid little woman.

He could have turned her like a worn sock,lifted her skirt and possessed it in any dark corner of the castle,stretched her on the floor and forced her to open her legs for him.For him,only for him. First the knees,then the thighs,until he devour her with his hands and tongue,until he fuck her all.

That little creature who didn't even know the thoughts that animated the minds of the men around her,the minds of all animal men just like him.He could have done anything to her,anything unimaginable and unpronounceable,and continued to devour her for whole hours,years and centurie, millennia and other millennia,to the point of satisfying her every repressed need and even more.

And Daemon did it,fulfilling his duties as a husband that resulted in the living love that took form in their twin daughters and son.

He enjoyed her,eat her,mark her at every possible point.He could have done anything for her even now.But Y/n had placed a hand on his heart and more snow had fallen into his chest,appeasing his every pain,every craving.

«Or is my sister crown that you lust over now?»Y/n sharp tongue managed to open another cut in his chest.

Yes,he wanted Rhaenyra crown but it was her he wanted to make his Queen.It’s always been like that,in his deepest dreams,to rule by her side,to pass the throne to their son and be with her forever to the end of his days.

«It’s always ever been you and i’m sorry that this has costed your life.»Daemon words were half stuck in his throat.

Stupid little girl,stupid.She was too good for him.She was pathetically pure.She will never be able to survive in this world,she would become food donated to dogs and worms.Another dead flesh left danging on the spades of this rotten and corrupt castle from the slimy foundation.Another head detached from one's body and turned into a trophy to show to enemies.

Another life that he had ruined.

The images of these elucubrations of his had scared him so much was he afraid?Was the burning in the pupils and ribs fear of seeing her dead or desire to kill or even a fever to possess her?To push her away from his arms,from his belly outstretched towards her.

Daemon had already lost Y/n once,in their old shared chambers of the Red Keep,drenched in sweat and blood.Screaming in fear and pain,just like her mother,as she gave birth to their son.A life for a life,the child survived and the mother died without being able to meet each other.

And now she was there,after so many years,Daemon had only glimpsed at her wet lips and red cheeks,then started yelling at her to leave.It wasn’t real,nothing of this was,his wife,his Y/n was dead,ashes in the wind.

«Go away.Get away right away or you'll regret it.I'll make you regret it,I swear to you.I'll make you regret anything you've ever done or thought if you don't leave now.Go away!»Daemon was screaming like a mad man,but his words were not directed towards Y/n.

His crude and harsh words were echoed only for the silent witch that lived in that old and empty castle.

He must have insulted her,or he had cursed the bastard witch back.He didn’t cared because now Y/n had escaped from his head and eyes with every new sip of wine that he took once he walked back into the dark halls.

Her ethereal figure disappeared at each red bottom of a cup he had swallowed in an attempt to forget the circles of her damn braids.A new cup of wine at every turn of the silver locks and then a hysterical laugh every moment he saw the lilac eyes of that damn girl in the accusatory ones of the witch who sat next to him.

«You are rather unrequited tonight,your grace.What’s bothering you?»Alys Rivers was her name and her voice was as enchanting as her looks.

A punch against the table at every drop of watered down flavor,at every cup of all those lousy drinks that she had given him to help him sleep.A mediocre taste that made him miss better flavors - the taste of him.

Almost as she could read his mind«In love?You?»Alys sound surprised.

And a thud in the heart as every second passes,at the stroke of the hours,at the slow formation of a nebulous wall of chaos inside him.Honey,snow,sweet salt of tears never shed. What was happening to him?What was going on in his head,in his sternum,between his legs?Had Alys poisoned him?

«Y/n.»she spoke again«The little girl that you used to bounce on your knees,the woman that died to give you an heir.»she taunted him,the ghost of a smile on her lips.

Daemon felt his heart shatter in his chest,pain at every breath.His hands burning like the rest of his body,the wine down his throat ready to choke him with all his guilt.

«Where is she?»he asked then,turning to look at the woman next to him.

Where is Y/n?

He had screamed at her out in the gardens and she was gone,she had flown away.

«Where is she?Tell me.Tell me where she is!»the cups on the wooden table crushed on the floor,the cold stones now painted of red wine.

«Where is Y/n?»Alys asked calmly,not even getting up from her chair as his grace thrown everything around«The little girl is far away.But she’s not unreachable,you will see her again soon.»she answered him.

Daemon had was spinning,he felt the nausea coming up from his stomach.He tried to walk and a gag forced him to kneel on the ground,to throw his head against the floor.

«Y/n,my little bird,Y/n.Y/n where are you?»he choked out.

She was there,he had seen her just a few moments before and the other previous nights that he had spent in Harrenhal.He held her,kissed her and it felt so real.She didn't run away,she didn't cry,she didn't even lower her head.Nothing,nothing of nothing.She just looked at him for a second and then she left.

Now she was gone,again.She was gone,Y/n,was gone and Daemon wanted her back,like he had always wanted her,he couldn’t breathe,Y/n come back to him.

Come back,stupid little girl,come back here right away.One moment,he needed to touch her,to kiss her,to have her,just another moment to share with her.His little girl,his little bird.His,his,his,she had always been his.Come back,he needed to hold her and protect her.He would protect her from anyone,even himself if she was so afraid.He was scared too.

«Your grace?»Alys voice was distant,loosing itself in the air.

Daemon crawled on the wet floor,getting up«The little bird.I have to find,I have to find...»the world became dark and dyed of red.There was laughter around his body and someone sneering his name.

«I have to find...»he repeated.

He had to look for her.He hadn't been able to resist her,he hadn't slept even a minute.He had walked around the castle like a mad man,reaching his chambers only to find her inside.

The room looked like the one they lived in the Red Keep,warm and familiar.A small figure appeared,wearing a old white nightgown drenched in blood,pale hair wild on her head in the same that she had died in.

Y/n was there,holding to her chest a child wrapped into a blue blanket like a present.Their son,the joyful and smart boy that looked exactly like his mother and that she had never even seen before closing her eyes forever.She was sitting and crying .He had felt like he was dying and had taken a few uncertain steps.His eyes had moved frantically and they had glimpsed the blood-stained sheets,the stained dress on her thighs, the hands holding the child.

As soon as Y/n had seen him,with shiny eyes, huge tears on that small face she had brought her red fingers on her lips,as if to ask him to be silent as she rocked her baby.The smell of iron had never disgusted him,never shaken him,not until that moment.The little girl's legs had continued to drip and form spots on slippery spots on the floor.

«You always wanted a son.»Y/n voice was paralyzing«I should have know that this would have been my end.You can never surrender to your desires.»she didn’t looked at him,calmly holding the cloth in her arms but he knew she was accusing him of the same sin his brother had committed.

He had never hated blood with such despair,never hesitated before his duties,never thought of spitting acid on his oldest loyalty«I should have…i should have saved you.»he breathed.

Y/n smiled softly«No,this is the price you have to pay for taking what isn’t yours.The throne,the crown…me.»her empty eyes burned his flesh«You will die here,uncle,and you will loose everything.»she warned him.

Daemon vomited until he almost fainted,almost suffocated in his own vomit.Tears mixed with the pain and guilt on his face and his arms suddenly gave in.He felt hands on his neck and lips near his ear.He hit his head against the floor again and rocky voices pronounced his name more times.

He tried to crawl but threw up again,and then again and again.He couldn't stop anymore.He tried to grab a the chair next to door,but the world began swirling to turn and he lost himself in meaningless images.Before closing his eyes Daemon only saw pale silver birds with broken necks and torn wings.

[overtail]

ATLA Headcannons - Dating Them ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

These are all MY headcannons, and you dont have to agree on them :3

Aang ༄

-since you two are so young, it tends to be awkward at first

-hes very touchy, but he'll try his best not to show it

-he'd love to hug you by wrapping his arms around you waist and bringing you tight. the feeling of your cheek against his chest makes his stomach flutter

-if you're a non-bender, he'll be very protective towards you. if you were ever taken or lost, he'd behave just like when appa was stolen by the sand benders

-he spends most of his free time daydreaming about you

-'you've got, nice, uh, ears?'

-horrible at compliments

-you hear whenever he asks Sokka for crappy advice

-absolutely adores when your hair is down (fem)

-when it comes to liking guys, he prefers longer hair (masc)

-blushes when you ruffle his grown out hair

-he'll take you on rides on appa when you're feeling down

-'i'd love to try, but there's meat in the stew..'

-if you were a bender, he'd always be begging you to teach him moves and tactics even if you didnt know how to be an instructor

-loves skin to skin contact, and will press his bare chest against your back when sleeping

Sokka 𖦹

-the BIGGEST nagger

-can't ever stop moving while sitting around the fire

-won't keep his lips off yours when you're alone

-will fall head over heels for an angsty teen boy (masc)

-especially mean to you when he likes you, and teases you while dating

-thinks your aggression is hot

-very protective of you, even if you're strong/a warrior

-'shit- i mean uhm.."

-cussing problem

-both of you guys are stupid together, so when you were thirsty and dehydrated in the desert, you both got high on cactus juice

-'heh.. you see that flying shark cat?'

-loves seeing you embrace your feminine side (fem)

-love language is cooking for you, even if he sucks

-crappy pick up lines work but just because you think his attempt is cute

-'did i hurt when you fell from heaven?'

Zuko ☄

-not very open about his emotions in the beginning

-when he gets comfortable with you, he'll sometimes cry in your arms at night

-arm across your shoulders or around your waist CONSTANTLY.

-and when i mean constantly, i mean constantly.

-when hes fire lord, he'll have a designated room for whatever hobby you're passionate about

-'the greenhouse is just outside-' 'A GREENHOUSE?!'

-thinks stretch marks are the most beautiful thing

-can stare at your face for hours on end because hes so lost in your eyes

-loves doodling you in his notebooks

-if hes in an angry mood, he'll always have a soft spot for you

Katara ≈

-jealous jealous jealous girl

-love splashing you with water just to bother you

-runs her fingers through your hair at night to calm both of you down

-embarrassed when you catch her singing

-she hates it when you leave a mess

-super cuddly when tired

-loves stupid nicknames

-'whatever you say, princess.' 'what did you just call me?'

-loves telling stories you've heard 1000 times over and over again

-SUPER big hugger

-will elbow you when she can sense you're annoying someone

Toph ᨒ

-will always find a way to wind in an argument

-constantly using being blind as an excuse

-'i can't clean up the mess if i CAN'T SEE IT.'

-super giggly when you tell jokes, but only when its you

-jumps around with joy when she hears that you're gonna be joining the gaang on a mission

-hates when you hold her in your arms because she can't feel the floor

-women with deep voices make her weak in the knees (fem)

-unsurprisingly, fighting is one of her love languages -- she likes competing with her favorite people

-loves when you tell a story in detail, especially the juicy ones

-holds your hand whenever walking somewhere

Suki ❀

-loves spending time outdoors (picnic dates, walks, exploring)

-she loves putting you in makeup because you look ridiculous (masc)

-very inexperienced when it comes to romance

-'why are you kissing my neck? That's not where my lips are..'

-loses things CONSTANTLY and always makes you help her look for it

-loves dancing with you

-pathological liar, but only when it comes to stories

-'one time, i saw the unaki eat a child.'

-listening to rain and cuddling in front of a window makes her feel so happy

-loves taking care of children with you, and looks forward to having kids

-loves your corny jokes

...

BONUS!!

Sexuality headcannons..

Aang: unlabeled

he just sorta loves who he loves

Sokka: Bisexual with a preference for women

Says hes a ladies man, but will fall for a boy from time to time (*cough cough* zukka)

Zuko: Gay

Im sorry ladies but just LOOK AT HIM.

Katara: Pansexual

I love kataang with my whole heart so i couldn't really see her with anyone else, but if Aang wasn't in the picture she'd date a few girls

Toph: Lesbian

like cmonnnnn

Suki: Straight

im sorry but im a sucker for strong straight females

[zombvic]

SUPER RICH KIDS (marc guiu x reader) pt.2 here

summary : in which fans notice a familiar footballer in the likes of their favorite "super (humble) rich kid"

face claim : wolfiecindy (+ lissie mackintosh)

notes : frank ocean come back !!!!!!!!! might make this a series... this idea came to me in a dream so it might be a lil dumb. gave them a family name and made the dads face claim toto wolff (lmfao) bcs its easier so js ignore that !!! translated spanish is questionable..

pairings : marc guiu x fem!famous!reader

y/n ramsay, the only daughter of peter ramsay, a man considered to be one of the most influential men in the world, the owner of mercedes. not just the formula one team, the whole ass car brand. he is considered a self-made multi billionaire and single dad of two. as a daughter of a man with such high status, it came with exposure. y/n had her own little fandom, girls and boys who admired her beauty, lifestyle and enjoyed her personality. the girl was beloved by many, even celebrities found her videos and instagram posts entertaining. she had a natural charm that drew people in, and amongst those people there was a certain footballer, a certain teammate of her brother known as the one and only, marc guiu.

Liked by judebellingham, marcguiu9 & 7,562,005 others.

ynramsay monaco nights

View all 11,596 comments.

user rawrwrrwrwrwrrr

user HERMOSA

nateramsay wtf without me ?

- ynramsay yeah!!! loser..

user marc and jude in the likes lmao

- user i need to see nates reaction

user + 1000000 aura for her beauty

user idk whats prettier, the view or you

user felt the aura way back in december

judebellingham what a view 😍😍

- user shes not picking u jude (visca el barca!!)

- user marc fight back ???

liked by marcguiu9

Liked by judebellingham, marcguiu9 & 6,452,889 others.

ynramsay read the spanish love deception and now im here

View all 10,885 comments.

judebellingham madrid is better smh..

- ynramsay visca el barca bitch

peteramsay wow i look good

nateramsay where am i ???

- ynramsay dw youll get a personal post ig

marcguiu9 linda 😻 (pretty)

- nateramsay yo marc.. ¿qué carajo? 😁 (what the fuck)

- hctorforrt_ eres marc bastante idiota (you're pretty stupid marc)

Liked by hctorrforrt_, marcguiu9 & 8,222,258 others.

ynramsay @nateramsay am i doing this right ???

View all 8,368 comments.

nateramsay eh.. could be worse

user okay guys.. y/n & hector OR y/n & marc..

- user marc & y/n definetly

- user nuh uh hector and y/n would make a cute couple

- user neither???? guys omg leave them alone

user barca girls stay on top

marcguiu9 the team's lucky charm !!

- user bros down BAD

- user - 10,000 aura for simping

Liked by ynramsay, peteramsay & 4,005,347 others.

marcguiu9 VAMOS !!! tres puntos están en casa !!

View all 3,985 comments.

user bro has the inlaws in his likes

- user and they claim theyre "friends" ... if my "friends" dad was liking my posts id assume were married with seven kids and a dog

ynramsay marcaría un hattrick 🤓☝🏼

- marcguiu9 me gustaría verte intentarlo

user were winning the ucl !! (im going insane)

- user were so back !! (we are not making it past the group stage)

user la masia boys have some kind of fine gene in them its crazy

ynramsay formula is still better sorry bro

- marcguiu9 you trippin dawg 😹😹😹

- user just get married lord...

- user theyre literally built for eachother i swear

Liked by hctorforrt_, marcguiu9 & 11,258,997 others.

ynramsay meanwhile in my head

View all 8,547 comments.

user mother is mothering

user the prettiest

user an angel sent from heaven, deadass.

marcguiu9 ¿eres un rayo? proque eres mcqueen. (are you lighnting? because you're mcqueen)

- nateramsay WEAAAAAK. next

- marcguiu9 can you be the sally to my mcqueen??

- nateramsay better.. u got my approval

- peteramsay not mine !!!

user 11 million likes on ts post jesus marc u got some competition

user the finest girl in the world

user girlie got the whole barca roster in her likes

Liked by hctorforrt_, marcguiu9 & 7,566,058 others.

ynramsay barca weekend things !!

View all 9,568 comments.

user mother is mothering

user wifey, are you cheating on me?

user IS THAT MARCS HAND ???????

user guys that's me please respect our privacy!!

user i think it's hector tbh..

- user nah thats so randon

- user they're clearly just friends

user wasnt expecting a heartbreak today

user im sorry but it looks like marc

- user a HAND looks like marc ???????

marcguiu9 vroom

- ynramsay vroom indeed

- user yall...

peteramsay aprobado 👍🏼👍🏼👍🏼

- marcguiu9 VAMOOOOOOOS

might be a series or whatever :3 just pls request something

[ineffable-suffering]

The meaning of "I forgive you"

Alright, hello again, I involuntarily dipped for a bit because real life outside of this lovely Tumblr Good Omens bubble got a little bit stressful, but! I'm back for a quick little post to say that I'm currently reading the script book for Season 1 and seeing this line again, spelled out on paper, just shone some more light on the whole „I forgive you“-scene of Season 2 for me again.

Because really, this first time Az says it to Crowley in front of the bookshop tells us exactly what the second time during the Final Fifteen means.

Aziraphale is not forgiving Crowley for kissing him. Or for using this moment to confess and make things explicit between them.

No, Aziraphale is forgiving Crowley for not trusting and believing (in) him.

Let's shove the Final Fifteen to the side for a second and look at this scene from Season 1 under the cut.

The situation at hand: The World is ending, with utmost certainty. In addition, Crowley is absolutely f*cked and Hell is out to get him. He tries to apologise for their Bandstand fallout and explain the other two things to Az (poorly, but he tries). Because to Crowley, Armageddon is a done deal already. Wherever the actual Antichrist is, he's gonna come into his power and the World will be wiped out for Heaven and Hell to wage their war on. Also, Hastur is coming to kick his demon ass. Time to dip!

And yet, Aziraphale doesn't want to come with him. He is adamant that he will be able to reach the Almighty, talk to Her and turn this around. Because if Aziraphale, Guardian of the Eastern Gate, thinks there's even the slightest, tiniest morsel of a chance that he can turn things around the right way, he will do it. Even if it sounds ridiculous. Even if it's a lost cause to everyone else. Even if all the other angels gang up on him and (literally) beat him up.

Even if Crowley calls him stupid.

Aziraphale decides not to be offended by this.

Because this is what he does. This is what a Guardian does. He stays and protects to ward off the intrusion, until the very last second.

Now listen, I'm the last person to blame Crowley for intrinsically wanting to choose Flight over Fight in this very situation, because Lord knows (literally) what happened to him back when he chose Fight and lost.

But at the same time we have to keep in mind that despite his last name, Aziraphale never Fell. He never made the horrible experience of being chucked away by the one who made you to love Her because you chose to question her ways. And yes, in so many ways this choice of his, to still believe that he can change something by questioning and suggesting (both here and in S2), is utterly maddening and hurtful to Crowley. Because it's a mirror of what Crowley himself did and a reminder of just how big the price he had to pay was. Aziraphale seemingly not realizing or understanding this stings. It does.

And yet.

Yet Aziraphale's choice to not take no for an answer, to not let a punch to the gut derail him from his plan, to not let even the most definitive thing such as Armageddon keep him from fighting back, is the one thing that ends up saving the World.

Because even when it all seems impossible and completely hopeless and bloody Satan himself is erupting from the pits of Hell, ...

... Aziraphale picks up his sword and fights back.

And he wins.

Not without help, of course. But might I remind you of what got Crowley to cooperate and not simply surrender like he'd almost done that second?

You might not see it at first, but tucked in between all the posh hedonism, hidden away underneath that tightly buttoned waistcoat of his, Aziraphale is a fighter. And a good one at that. I mean, for Someone's sake, he got discorporated, beamed himself down back to Earth, found Crowley somehow, possessed a psychic prostitute (love you, Madame Tracy), rode a scooter all the way to Taddfield and fought off Lucifer with sheer willpower (and a bit of emotional coercion).

Aziraphale can fight. Smart and hard. And not only that: He can win, too. And he knows it. Because he believes, truly, firmly and wholly, that he can make things right. It's the only thing he will settle for. This, ladies and gents, this is how he ends up saving the World, together with Crowley, Adam and the rest.

Because he didn't accept no as an answer. He didn't look at the impossible and accept it as such. Even when Crowley thought him to be an idiot for trying and even after his initial attempt at talking to God had failed, Aziraphale still found a way to stop The Big Bad Thing from happening.

Which is exactly what his plan is when he ends up being forced to come back to Heaven by the Metatron. (If you still believe this was a voluntary choice, read here). And which is exactly why he is so hurt and still ends up forgiving Crowley for the fact that Crowley doesn't end up coming with him. Doesn't end up understanding, trusting and believing (in) him, just like all the way back at the end of the World in Season 1.

Aziraphale decides not to be offended by this.

[zlebooks]

𓂃 ayato + of marriage proposals and tricoloured dango . use of gendered terms (wife, my lady)

you have a crush on your husband, which is stupid considering that you are married after all. but this marriage is a noble marriage; arranged for conveniences. but is it really?

you’re glad that ayato is finally taking time to spend away from his duties and showing his face to the public. you always argue that a public appearance from him from time to time would do his reputation good— with a united front with you, his wife, as opposed to other traditions of arranged marriages, the yashiro commission would earn a little bit more stability and respect.

everyone knows the nature of noble marriages; if they weren't arranged by their parents to broaden authority within the nation, they arranged it themselves as a ceasefire to conflicts between clans. it was never about love. it could never be about love.

your marriage to ayato was similar to other noble marriages only built on other conveniences. but as a romantic yourself, you wish to put on a show for the citizens of the electro nation. painting a love story between two nobles of opposing clans certainly sounds like a good forbidden romance— one that people from all over inazuma would sigh at the sheer romanticness of it. this was how you gain the approval of the public; by being relatable and showing that nobles were vulnerable to feeling the same emotions that they do. yashiro vassals would often comment on your unorthodox methods of maintaining good appearances, but then again, they serve a commissioner who has his own set of unconventional ways as well. it was almost like the kamisato clan had been blessed by a match well made, if not in heaven.

of course, name and status wouldn’t be enough to be wedded to the yashiro commissioner; if it were that easy, he would have been married ages ago. the kamisato lord needed someone to match his cunning personality, which is why you can proudly say that you have your own ulterior motives proposing this way to please the public.

all you really want is for your husband to spend time with his wife.

kamisato ayato is a gentleman with a tough heart. he may look like a pampered lord on the outside, but it is widely known that he has a certain roughness inside, developed through the trying times in his clan. and during your stay within the confines of the kamisato estate, you noticed his smoothened out edges. and you were a romantic, maybe he would show this side to you that was usually reserved for his sister and a few friends.

you had a crush on your husband simply put. you suppose it couldn’t be helped, and it was an added bonus that he was easy on the eyes too.

so you were glad. really. this plan of yours seemed to work and you got your wish to spend time with ayato.

but as you hold the several flavours of mochi in your hand and two tricolour dangos in the other, with ayato ordering for more dango milk (he’s had enough), you’re beginning to suspect that your husband is just using you to get away from his commissioner responsibilities.

“husband, don’t you think that this is enough?”

“not quite, wife.” he addresses you, to which you could feel your heart doing somersaults to. thank goodness for your nobility training, you were able to mask your emotions entirely, if you hadn’t attended lady arisu’s lecture that day, maybe you couldn’t have stopped the warmth spreading across your cheeks and calm your erratic heart.

“and who do you suppose would eat all of these? my lord?” you further prod, giving the food in your hands a little shake to emphasise your concerns. certainly it would not be you, and it sure wasn’t your husband, as he has all but taken them off your hands and hasn’t shown any notion to eat them himself.

“who else would it be if not you, my lady?” he smiles teasingly, “you haven’t been eating and we cannot have that happen for my beloved wife, right?”

oh he has to know, this elaborate plan of yours or your little crush on him.

or maybe, he’s trying to prolong time spent with you to further evade his duties a little longer. after all, who would disturb the commissioner spending time with his wife?

you hope it’s the latter.

“how cruel of the commissioner to use his wife as an excuse.” you chide playfully and if you had an extra hand right now, it would have been used to keep your fan covering most of your face.

this seems to get ayato’s full undivided attention. as he successfully purchases the dango milk and taking it from the vendor’s hands, he smiles at you, amused by your statement. “pray tell what would have led my wife to assume such a conclusion?”

“well, whenever we are together, you’d do anything to drag out your time with me. it’s as if you don’t want to come back to your duties.” you list, “that one is harsh even for you, commissioner.”

ayato muses, taking the tricolour dangos from your hand, “now my wife is being unfair; it’s not like i’m the only one who has a hidden agenda in our trip today, hm?”

no amount of training would have stopped your jaw from dropping in surprise. so he knows! your heart starts to pick up its pace from sheer embarrassment and you could feel warmth creeping up your neck, towards your cheeks. this is extremely embarrassing! this is no different from confessing to your childhood crush that might as well be two decades older than you!

“i take it that you plead guilty?”

“well—“

“there’s no shame in admitting feelings for your husband.” the word smoothly rolls out from his mouth as if to tease you.

“you—!”

“i’m quite enamoured by you as well, wife. there’s no need to worry your pretty head if your affections are unrequited. after all, why would i ever accept a marriage proposal that heavily favours your side, hm?”

ayato says before starting to walk, leaving you to process everything that had just happened. “now come along, i want to make the most of my time with you before i assume my responsibilities once more.”

and things start to make sense; why he’s so determined at spending time with you even if piles of work sit atop on his desk back at the estate. how he’s the kind of person to never put off work unless something he regards much more important calls for his attention. and in this situation, it was you— you’re what’s more important.

this realisation sends a sharp feeling from your back that gradually rises to your chest, burning you from the inside.

you don’t fail at noticing how he smiles longer at you and only you during meetings, his incessant bothering when a matter requires both of your attention and of course, his immediate response after your marriage proposal.

(“i believe it would be mutually beneficial to both parties but of course, it would be a little more favourable towards my side, naturally. however changes some terms might be ag—“

“alright, i will be requesting an audience with your father tomorrow. so please do expect my presence in your family estate as i ask for your father’s blessing.”)

left with no choice or words for that matter, you pick up your pace to follow your dutiful husband, looking at him like a fish caught in the vast sea. unbeknownst to him however, with both of your feelings coming into light, he has unknowingly revealed something more valuable about himself: he has been harbouring such feelings for a much longer time.

finally matching the man’s strides, you muse to yourself. he may have the upperhand right now, but later at the confines of your home, he would be the one to beg for you to stop with the teasing.

♥︎ please do not repost or translate without my permission . reblogs are heavily appreciated!

[racinggirl]

i’m hunting your ask box at this point but i can’t really regret it, your writing is a masterpiece each and every time 🎉

today’s thoughts : smau where y/n and charles always ‘argue’ and make comments against each other on socials, leading people to think they actually hate each other (they’re actually best friends and lovers in secret, and sit together giggling as they tweet stupid shit about each other) they admit the truth with a post of them on a date with the caption “… enemies to lovers?”

the grid know they’re good friends but not that they’re going out until the posts, lando would definitely be like “yep i knew it i called it” when he really did not

lots of love!! <3

yourusername

liked by user1, user2, user3 and 73,710 others

An iced coffee a day... (only it's just frappuccino without coffee bc I don't like coffee) 🧋

view all 9,264 comments

user8 you're so real for this, queen

charles_leclerc someone needs to teach Y/N that frappuccino's are just coffee's sugary sidekick

yourusername sorry Charles, I prefer my beverages without a side of bitterness. user2 Am I the only one that feels like Charles and Y/N don't like each other this much? user10 Nope. user1 They hate each other lol

charles_leclerc

liked by user4, user5, user6 and 1,402,618 others

Let the season begin 🏎️ ❤️

view all 62,720 comments

yourusername goodluck, you'll need it 😚

charles_leclerc thanks, good to see you're unable to stay away from my posts 😉 yourusername someone should keep an eye on the chaos you bring to my feed. It's a public service, really. charles_leclerc a public service? I should be charging admission for the entertainment I provide 😘 user7 okay they are UNHINGED

yourusername

liked by user2, user7, user8 and 92,610 others

is it giving 'that girl' vibes? ✨

view all 5,277 comments

user4 YES IT IS 😍

charles_leclerc you're such a StarBucks addict 🧋

yourusername says the guy that's addicted to having a cup of espresso every morning

user10 wait, how does she know? user6 OMG what if they are dating? user2 lmao, they hate each other, I doubt they are willingly hanging out together

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, user2, arthur_leclerc and 104,175 others

no cap needed 🌎 ✈️

view all 9,610 comments

user1 liked by Charles AND Arthur? I thought they hated each other?

user3 Why do I feel like we're gonna get mind fucked, they are playing a game and we're all losing 😶

user9 I'm obsessed, girl you're living our dream 😩

user5 where are you going???

yourusername 🇯🇵 ❤️ user6 THE JAPAN GP? OMG

user2 hold up, no Charles x Y/N banter in the comments?

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris, scuderiaferrari and 126,710 others

@charles_leclerc have to admit, I would make a pretty good WAG 💋

view all 15,710 comments

user9 OMG OMG OMG OMG

user6 WHAT IS HAPPENING OH MY LORD

charles_leclerc if only you would choose F1 over soccer 😘

yourusername I'll come back to you about that in a week

one week later

yourusername & charles_leclerc

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris, f1 and 2,516,470 others

Enemies to lovers?...

Took you a while to figure that out, happy 2 years baby ❤️

view all 74,571 comments

charles_leclerc I love you ❤️

yourusername I love you more ❤️ ❤️

landonorris yep, I knew it, called it

charles_leclerc no you did not, you tried to hit on her 😂 yourusername you could learn something from his flirting skills tho, at least Lando didn't ask me if 'falling down from heaven hurt' 💀 charles_leclerc It worked though, didn't it 😉

user1 TWO YEARS ALREADY?

user7 that sixth picture though 😩 ❤️

user8 I want what they have 😍

a/n: thank you for sending in the request sweety! It really means a lot! Hopefully you’ve enjoyed it! As I mentioned before, I will have a small break. I’ve got 3 requests in my askbox atm, but if you have an idea for a story, don’t hesitate to hunt my askbox again and send it in. I’m not 100% sure when I’ll be back exactly, but it shouldn’t be too long. Lots of love 💗

[lizthewriter]

mattheo riddle as different romance tropes

〉forbidden love  yep, you saw it! he's the dark lord's son and most likely a forced death eater. whether your muggleborn or a blood traitor or just someone who could be put in danger by his family, then you can't be together. it's hard for him not to fall in love with you, especially when you're making it so effortlessly easy. he hates it and he hates himself and he hates his stupid family but god, does he love you. he tries so hard to keep himself straight, to not veer off the path his family is so desperately trying to steer him on, but he confesses his love to you either in a hot, steamy, passionate kiss filled with pent up emotion or a calm, peaceful night spent in the astronomy tower, explaining to you how he feels but why you could never be together. either way, you don't care and make it work. your love is secretive, spontaneous, sweet, but tense at times. you two are so kind and loving towards each other but tend to argue about how to behave around each other in public. in the end, of course, the dark lord does not persevere and your relationship can survive out in the open, but know that the beginning of your relationship might be a bit tumultuous at first.

〉enemies to lovers / forced proximity  if anyone exemplifies this trope, it's mattheo. the hatred you two bare for each other is so angry and passionate it that it falls along the line of "i hate you so much i almost love you," and your friends can definitely see that. most likely the two of you would be complete opposites yet exactly the same all at once. you hate the parts of him that differ from you yet hate the parts that are similar even more, because you're supposed to be enemies, right? constant bickering, arguing, and glaring. this is where the forced proximity comes into play - i don't see forced proximity being a way you two fall in love without being enemies first. either your friends shove you in a closet together to hash those unresolved feelings towards one another, or it could be a seven minutes in heaven / spin the bottle scenario, detention, or you're forced to work on a school project together. either way, your love confession is either a passionate, angry, almost hateful kiss or something that's wholesome, pure, and totally unexpected. your love would be fiery and serious and the two of you often find solitude in spending time alone together late at night or early in the morning, when you can let bygones be bygones and simply let go.

〉fwb to lovers / pure and promiscuous what else did you think this would be? mattheo is a fuckboy and there's no denying it. he finds solace in sleeping around and smoking (not exactly healthy habits - don't try this at home kiddos!) you could be best friends and find that the two of you find release with each other or more of acquaintances, which would tie in with the "pure and promiscuous" love trope. with the later, i see you approaching mattheo in hopes that he might teach you how to - well, you know. whatever your motives are, he doesn't care, because you're beautiful (and he might have a corruption kink but we won't talk about that). i would think the love confession happens when you're sitting in bed - i don't think mattheo would be the one to bring it up, probably you. your love would be delicate, heart-warming, and wholesome. it may start out with benefits, but it grows to be something a lot more then just that.

[movie rec: 10 things i hate about you]

[st4rgrl4l1f3]

Stupid stuff I think the 141 would do if they all lived together

—————

Underwear. Who’s is who’s. They all have a red, black, blue and gray pair. Soap may have a pair with the Scottish flag on it.

“I FORGOT WHO WEARS AN XL” Soap would scream from downstairs.

“I DO” Ghost would reply.

“…fatass.”

“I heard that.”

—————

Most random shit in the fridge. Why is the fridge nothing but the cheese drawer and beer?…Okay, let’s check the cupboards. There’s fruit snacks and one of those gallon buckets of goldfish. Okay. Another cupboard. Four cups, four bowls, four plates…The silverware looks the same.

“Why don’t we have food in the kitchen? What happened to the groceries I bought??” Gaz is terrified. He was gone for a week.

“Soap ate it all, and Ghost followed. ‘Saw a cat outside, figured I’d feed it. Now it’s comin back with ‘er kids…” Price says, that last part more quiet than his first two sentences.

“…Is this your idea of groceries?” Gaz looks at Soap, Ghost, and Price.

All three of them in unison, “…Yes.”

—————

Sleeping in the most random places. Why is Gaz halfway on the couch, halfway on the floor? Soap is drooling all over the couch, Ghost is passed out beside his bed, and Price still has his gear on, sleeping beside his rifle, hat halfway on.

Waking up with a sore back, Gaz opens his eyes. Yawning and wincing at the ache right in the middle of his back, he gets up, holding his back like an old man, and cracks it.

“Well good Lord in Heaven, lad, ye nearly broke yer own back crackin it like that.”

Gaz turns around, Soap is holding up his head with his hand, Mohawk all outta whack. Gaz gives him a small “g’mornin.” Before fixing himself breakfast (tap water and cheese from the cheese drawer)

Ghost wakes up, crawls in his bed and falls back asleep. He sleeps like a log.

Price wakes up, oh God, his back hurts. Maybe it was because of all the gear he still has on. He strips himself of it and puts on a gray t-shirt and some sweats. (He still has his hat on???)

—————

Coming home drunk. Holy fuck. Uber loaded with grown ass men laughing about the man that was break-dancing on the table so hard that tears were coming out.

“Yaswereslads gonna make me fuckin cry you know wha I sayin I’m fuckin dead lads, oh shite—“ Soap says, all in one string of words. His accent really comes out when he’s drunk.

“‘T was like he was-wheeze-goin in slow motion when he fell-Another wheeze” Ghost cannot hold his laugh back. He wheezes.

Gaz is looking straight forward, nearly drooling.

Price is listening to Soap and Ghost shit themselves laughing as he silently laughs, gasps of air every five seconds. Even the Uber is laughing.

“Have you ever seen a breakdance?” Gaz says, chatting up the Uber who’s trying to keep his composure.

—————

Discussing pets.

“Can we PLEASE get a dog??” Soap is pleading with Gaz.

“Soap. Look at the fridge. All we have is beer and cheese.”

“The cheese drawer is a necessity. So is the beer.”

“No- listen. You get half decent groceries without me helping, we’ll get a puppy.”

“Hey, wait, can we get a snake—“

“Fuck no we’re not getting a snake, Ghost. What, make you feel at home?”

“I’m not Australian, Soap.”

Price and Gaz look at each other, wide eyed at their stupidity. They rub their temples, trying to genuinely find the brain in their words.

—————

Microwaveable things.

“Can I microwave this bowl?”

“No, Ghost.”

“Uhhh, pretty sure you can.”

“Why did you ask, then??”

“Just cuz.”

Price goes back to his dad show.

“JOHN?”

“YEAH?”

“…YOU WERE RIGHT. MY BOWL MELTED.”

“Oh for fucks-“

“Yer brain is fuckin mush, lad, how’d you not know you can’t microwave that?” Soap laughs at Ghosts misery, his soup gone to waste.

—————

[harmonysanreads]

Imagine Corrupted!Alhaitham in the Sumeru Hexagon AU who's a walking nightmare.

[ header credit ]

Because of exposure to some mysterious phenomena in the desert, a part of Alhaitham becomes “corrupted” and takes control over his body. The uncorrupted remains of his consciousness are still there, but, against the more powerful force, he's resigned to a backseat—until he figures out a way to take back control, that is.

Corrupted!Alhaitham finds you lovely, if not a little stupid for always prioritizing other people's needs. Not to worry, he'll educate you on the proper path in no time! Unlike regular Alhaitham, he exchanges shame with boldness in letting his intentions be known. If you think hearing Alhaitham say some of the most outrageous things with the most blank expression known to humankind is unnerving, think again, because, Corrupted!Alhaitham never stops smiling. It's a mocking, condescending and arrogant smile that makes you wish the earth would split open and swallow you whole already.

Instead of obsessing over a perfect plan like his ‘other self’, Corrupted!Alhaitham is spontaneous and does whatever he feels like doing at any given moment. This has brought along massive criticisms from his counterpart, but, it's not like he listens to his ‘nagging’. Alhaitham likes to follow rules and routines, Corrupted!Alhaitham loves breaking them.

Alhaitham resorts to many (marginally discreet) methods to learn about you, Corrupted!Alhaitham just corners you and demands you tell him everything. He thinks rationale and logicality are only impediments if he wants to claim something, which appalls Alhaitham. Corrupted!Alhaitham is much more ambitious and might even re-apply for the position of Grand Sage, not for knowledge or anything— but, for the absolute power the position would grant him.

The worst part of this is, his unhinged behavior is only reserved for you. The majority of people won't believe his change to begin with because of his ‘normal’ behavior in public, but, on top of that, Corrupted!Alhaitham blackmails you to not even think about telling anyone. After all, if normal Alhaitham can act insane, his counterpart can act 'normal' for a certain duration of time as well. If ‘Normal Alhaitham’ and Corrupted!Alhaitham can reach a consensus though, they'd be unstoppable. One with the perfect plans to ruin the competition and another unhesitant in executing them, they'll no doubt be deadly. But, judging by how often they clash, that's unlikely to happen very soon.

Or, imagine Corrupted!Alhaitham in the Vampire AU—however, this time as Vampire!Alhaitham's twin brother who few people know of. Corrupted!Alhaitham discovers that Vampire!Alhaitham was keeping you, someone he was tasked to ‘get rid of’, hidden from the Vampire Lords. He threatens Vampire!Alhaitham that he'll tell the lords about this unless, he shares you with him. It wasn't an easy negotiation though, but, brotherhood won in the end I guess?

Corrupted!Alhaitham doesn't love you like his twin and neither will he ‘protect’ you for your sake. At first, he only saw you as his blood bank. To him, you're an interesting creature he likes to poke and push for his entertainment. Heavens save you should you be alone with him. Vampire!Alhaitham isn't a saint either, after all, he did agree to this. He treats this as some sort an experiment as well, maybe one of your endurance or, if his twin will end up with the same feelings as him. After some time, Corrupted!Alhaitham might admit to himself that he's.. fond of you—but, only because you entertain him so well!

any brainrots on corrupted!alhaitham are warmly welcomed in my asks :>

[lowkeyrobin]

could you write something where walker scobell and reader like each other, are super obvious about it but also super oblivious when it comes to knowing each others feelings? (bonus points if the cast of percy jackson is involved and all know about their feelings for each other)! 🎀

aweeee oh my lord yes!!! stop this is so fucking cute wtffff 😭🙏 ; thanks for requesting and I hope you enjoy!!! ; ALSO!! this features a random oc because apparently no one from the older cast other than Charlie and Aryan can be normal so 🤞, oc is supposed to be like a bg character for one of Luke's friends in the show anyways!!! ; sorry this turned out so bad after you waited so long for it LMAO

WALKER SCOBELL ; oblivious

summary ; youre both oblivious to each other's feelings, and your costars need to help push you together

warnings ; language

disclaimers ; I mentioned some stores/brands that I'm pretty sure are zionist corps, so please don't go support them! this is just a fanfic, don't see this as advertisement bc these places kinda suck anyways. free palestine and do your daily clicks on arab.org

word count ; 1.6k

masterlist

"You're so stupid," Aryan sighs, walking next to you toward the mall entrance.

Leah and Walker walk ahead of you two, both talking about whatever they wanted to do while they were here. Charlie and Jordan walk behind you, acting as your parental gaurdians because apparently at ages 14-17, you weren't responsible enough to walk around a mall yourselves and needed a pair of 19 year olds by your side.

"He doesn't like me, and I don't like him, Aryan. Get it through your thick skull" You chuckle.

"Uh huh" He nods sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

Walker and Leah quickly turn around, walking backwards. "Come on, we're going to Target!"

You and Aryan share a look and quickly chase after them, Charlie and Jordan walking behind all of you like uninterested parents.

You jog across the top floor of the mall and take the escalator down right in front of Target, heading for the interior doors. Leah, Walker, and Aryan head towards the children's toys aisles while you find yourself distracted in the music department. Charlie and Jordan walk around the store, just browsing while you younger teens do whatever. They weren't going to be responsible for any destruction.

You scan through the CDs, looking for anything you didn't have that you found interesting. You pick up a Conan Gray CD, one of his new album Found Heaven. You look to the left, seeing Walker quickly walking towards you, nearly walking into some lady's cart around a corner of one of the aisles.

"Hey." You chuckle, making it clear you saw him nearly get his hip busted by a middle-aged woman.

"Hi" The blonde smiles nervously, "What're you up to?"

You hold up the CD, "Browsing"

He nods, "I've never listened to him, should I?" He asks, beginning to flip through the CDs himself.

You look at him with slightly widened eyes. "Walker, how have you never listened to Conan Gray?..."

He shrugs, "I dunno"

"I'm forcing you to listen to him in the car."

"Okay, okay"

You continue looking through the CDs, seeing if they had anything else to your interest. For a split second, your shoulder brushes against his, considering you were standing so close.

You keep quiet, feeling your face heat up a bit. He feels the same way, unbeknownst to you. You nervously glance at each other, milliseconds apart so you never saw the opposite look.

"Walker, we found water guns!"

"They're so awesome, I could literally just stare at them all day while they talk about their favorite movie" The curly haired blonde smiles, slowly strolling down the lower half of the mall with Aryan and Leah at his side. "I don't think I've ever smiled and laughed so much than when I'm with them, seriously. Everything about them is so amazing, like, I could marry them here and now"

"And you said you don't have a crush on them," Leah states sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "You're something else"

"I don't have a crush on them!" Walker exclaims, the plastic bag in his hand slinging back and forth as he walked, spinning it around his fingers. "I was just describing what I like about them, yeesh"

The two look at him with similar expressions.

"You have a crush on them. Accept it, dude." Aryan sighs, patting Walker on the shoulder. "I'm like, 99% sure they feel the same way as well"

"Shut up!"

"Walker!"

"Quiet!"

You instantly connect the disembodied voice to your familiar blonde friend, having been grabbing a pretzel with Jordan and Charlie. You were stealing their money for food since you'd spent fifty dollars on CDs, plus an extra one for Walker. Thank God Charlie knew who his favorite band was, you'd wanted to get him an actual gift before you left for home tomorrow.

Jordan and Charlie sat down at one of the tables next to the big escalator in the middle of the mall, in clear earshot of the trio who just walked out of Bath and Body Works. They send a shared expression to Leah and Aryan, and they both nod back.

Walker doesn't notice, considering he was busy ranting about how he doesn't have a crush on you and was more focused on his body language and speaking with his hands then figuring out who or what his friends were looking at.

You walk to the table, get a look at the trio, their backs face towards you, and you hand Charlie and Jordan their food.

The two are oddly quiet as they munch down, which makes you question if they're conspiring against you. You ignore it, though, wanting to enjoy your pretzel while you had it.

Charlie and Jordan finally start conversation as you finish up your pretzel and soda, which you devoured. They were talking about some TV show they liked as you stood up, threw your garbage away, and headed toward the bathrooms. You leave the elder teens alone, walking down the dim side-hallway to the restrooms.

Charlie quickly pulls out his phone once your back was to them and calls Aryan. He was with Leah and Walker across the mall, where he and Leah had sneakily set Walker up to get you a little gift. The teens converse quietly and privately, not wanting their victims to hear.

"Yeah, he's inside with Leah, where's Y/n?"

"Restroom" Jordan answers, as they'd FaceTimed him. She pushes her dark hair away from her face as she speaks.

"Okay, where are you guys going next? We're going to Barnes and Noble back near you guys, on the top floor." Aryan informs

"Alright, we'll go fix my phone plan really quick and head over" Jordan nods, looking at Charlie for approval.

He nods as well, and quickly whispers bye as he hangs up. You walk back toward them with a light smile, asking where you were going next.

"We're gonna fuck around with my phone bill, and-"

"-Meet them at the food court!" Charlie finishes, trying to keep you and Walker apart for a moment. He sends a glance to Jordan, who pulls out her phone.

"Oh, okay" You shrug.

After joining Jordan to be a Karen to get her phone bill fixed, you three head up to the food court to meet up with Walker, Leah, and Aryan. As you sit down with them, they all make excuses to leave or go to different spots to get food. That leaves you and Walker at the table alone, both of you unable to start conversation.

You'd just eaten the biggest pretzel of your life, and it turns out he had a milkshake not too long ago. You both nervously smile at each other, biting your nails and fidgeting your fingers a bit. Aryan and Charlie watch from the Noodles and Company line, trying to see if you'd hand over your gifts for each other.

Right on queue, you decide to just give Walker the CD you'd gotten for him, not wanting to miss the sort-of-private opportunity to give it to him. You pull it out of the plastic bag that rests on the floor next to your feet. You hand it to him over the table, awaiting his reaction.

He quickly smiles and looks up at you. "Is that for me?"

"Duh"

He graciously accepts the gift, looking at it front and back over and over again. "How did you know I liked David Bowie?"

You shrug with a smug smile. "One, everyone likes Bowie, two, I know more about you than you think"

He playfully and lightly scoffs with a smile. "Thank you. Actually! That reminds me, I got you something too"

He reaches into the bag that sat next to him, and pulls out a few candy bars and bags, and slides them over the table for you. One of those is a lollipop shaped like a rose.

You smile and give him a warm thank you, laying your eyes on the Twizzlers for the most part.

"Y'know, I have a feeling I'm gonna like Conan Gray in the car"

"Oh, you will, trust me"

In the distance, Aryan and Charlie share looks.

"They're so head over heels for each other" Charlie sighs, "Can they just kiss already?"

Aryan nods, "We need to really push them together"

"How?"

"We'll ask Jordy and Leah"

"Sounds like a plan"

You and Walker sit side by side, smiles on your faces as you rest on the ledge of the fountain. You look back at all the silver and copper coins in the water, shimmering under the rippling water.

"And the whole thing exploded all over me! It was the dumbest thing ever"

You chuckle, listening to Walker talk about some science project exploding all over him in seventh grade.

"Y'know, you're like, really cool" He smiles, nervously glancing at Aryan.

You feel a smile tugging at your lips, "Oh, uhm, thank you. You're cool too, dude" You lightly punch his shoulder.

"No, like, cool cool" He clarifies.

You look over at your four friends, all wearing sunglasses, acting like they weren't spying on your conversation, on their phones or looking away nervously.

"Is this some kind of setup?"

"No!" He quickly replies, "I just, like, think you're really cool" He says, feeling too nervous to go out and ask the question or confess his feelings.

Leah groans and stands up, Aryan at her side.

"Just kiss already!" She says, throwing her hands in the air, "This show is too slow!"

"Kiss!" Aryan cheers, "Please! Do it already! It hurts to watch this anymore"

You look back at Walker, cheeks and ears as red as a stop sign.

Walker shrugs with a nervous look, which you share with him.

"Okay, well, I'm not kissing you on the ledge of a mall fountain"

"Yeah, I get that one"

[cherry-flavored-sigh]

a lil headcanon about the end of NPMD (spoilers ahead, obvs)

i was thinking about NPMD this morning (as you do) and i realized something.

by the end of NPMD, when max's soul is taken by the lords? who do you think is going to torture him the most?

tinky.

let me explain.

who was tinky watching like a hawk during "the summoning"? pete. another spankoffski. another prize for his toybox. he could hardly keep his hands off him. you could see that he wanted to lunge at pete and grab him right away. he probably even got a bit mad when wiggly stroked the boy's face.

but it was okay. because this would be perfect! he'd have a Petey all of his own! and then he could torture the brothers together and they can watch each other suffer which will make them BOTH suffer more-

but then. BUT THEN.

max stopped steph from shooting pete. and either max moves at super ghostly speed or some magic imbued in his undead form from the waylon place gave him time-slowing powers. but either way, he stopped that bullet.

pete was going to die. and he wasn't going to heaven or hell. he was going to be taken to the Black, where he would definitely be tinky's new favorite toy.

so how dare this shitty zombie jock use this ripoff version of his time-controlling powers. and ESPECIALLY how dare he use them to keep pete from getting shot and his soul falling straight into tinky's terrifying grasp?

then he has to watch grace and max have sex, which is absolutely fucking disgusting. he was already seething, but now he knows that he's not going to get a good toy out of this deal. he's getting this stupid shitty kid that no one liked.

and he's not a spankoffski.

so when the lords do take his soul, when max is pulled into the Black, of course wiggly is gleeful about this. all of them are. oh, how they'll enjoy torturing him for all eternity, exposing him to unimaginable horrors and unspeakable evils. what a fun new toy!

but they decide that their furious bastard of a brother should get first dibs. after all, they knew tinky was really looking forward to having a Petey. and it's the only thing they can think of to calm him down, because "rage" doesn't even begin to describe how tinky's feeling right now.

besides, now that they have grace as their fun little soulsnatcher, they'll have plenty of other toys to play with.

so they gladly hand max over to tinky.

max thought he knew what fear was. skele'ns, ghosts, people forgetting about him, his (probably abusive) father.

no.

this is going to be way worse.

he sees tinky's horrific, goat-like grin, feels his crackling, angry energy radiating in the Black and surrounding him.

tinky's voice is low, a deep growl that shakes max's bones. he wears a smile that is anything but happy.

"you're going in the box now, maxie-poo. i hope you have..."

"... a great time." 💛

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Shameless

Sequel to Graceless

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon, manipulation, dejection, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: The reader attempts to move past her ruination, but is reminded of her tarnish conscience at every turn. (Regency AU, tall!reader)

Character: Steve Rogers, Thor Odinson

Note: Here we are. The sequel but not the end.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you like I love coffee and that’s a lot and probably unhealthy. Take care. 💖

The string of the glove’s seam trails loosely from the thumb. You twist the thread, playing with it, but doing little to mend it. Even with a needle in hand, you have no whim to darn. There are many things in life that cannot be repaired no matter how you try. Occurrences which cannot be taken back.

You pull at the seam until a hole forms in it. You poke your finger through with no heed for the glove’s integrity. You detest that pair anyhow. The very same you wore… that day. 

Albina lays at the foot of the bed, her head bent back over the edge as she peruses one of her novellas. Hannah and Cora disappeared ages ago and you only just heard them through the windows. They are likely causing chaos in the gardens. You hope your mother finds them and issues a reprimand for their immaturity.

The autumn thins the air as it creeps in around the window frame and you smell that discerning scent of dirt and leaves. Only a week and it feels as if the whole world has changed seasons. Your world has transformed irrevocably.

There’s a clatter and you glance over as Albina rolls onto her side. She’s always hated to be disturbed amid her stories. She huffs and falls onto her back to begin again, but the door bursts open, your two other sisters tromping through with excitement.

Albina shuts her book loudly and sighs as she sits up. You go back to your exploration of the glove, watching the thread stretch along the seam as you tug. If only that were Cora. If only you could rent her pretty hair from her pretty head. Or in the least, swat the smug grin from her lips.

You can’t even look at her. It just makes you think of him. Of how stupid you’d been. You believed his promises were meant for you but it’s only as you relive that haunting episode every night that you realise, he never proclaimed his intent for you, only alluded to a vague offer. Another mean trick.

“Lord Rogers has sent a gift,” Cora trills as she stands at the vanity, shuffling something unseen before her. Hannah stands at her side, bouncing with anticipation.

“Oh, what do you think it is?” Hannah chimes.

“Could you not unveil it in the sunroom, where there is no one reading?” Albina says as she drags herself to the edge of the bed, resting her book on her skirts.

“Could you not get your head out of those ridiculous fancies,” Cora retorts over her shoulder, “if you ever do for long enough, you might just find a husband too.”

You don’t look up. You refuse to give her the satisfaction. You haven’t missed her wandering glances, how she taunts you without even a word. She turns back to her gift and rustles beneath the thick paper.

“Oh, heavens,” she swoons and spins, “isn’t it beautiful?”

“Are those rubies?” Hannah preens.

“I think.”

“Garnet?” Albina suggests.

“No, no, surely they are rubies,” Cora insists. “Do you see?” She swirls around the room closer to you, “I must find the perfect gown to wear with this. Oh, he would fawn to see me in his ribbon, wouldn’t he, sister?”

You grip the glove tight as her figure looms over you. With your other hand, you clutch the needle, letting it jab into your palm until your eyes prick. You nod, “very beautiful.”

You stand the moment you get the words free of your dry throat. You try to smile but can only muster a strained grimace. You try to step past Cora but she moves with you.

“You’ve not even looked,” she says, “how would know how beautiful it is?”

“Cora, please.”

“No, no, have a look. It’s so elegant, isn’t it?”

You clamp your lips together. Your insides tangle painfully. Even as the tenderness leaves the bruises in your thighs, you swear they hurt just as much as the day after. You sniff.

“Please, move out of my way,” you beg.

“Oh, sister, why must you be so dour? Is that jealousy I sense?”

“No,” you snarl. Jealousy. Oh, something much deeper, something agonizing. “I said move.”

“Move? Well, it looks like I am the first to wear a title so it is me who should be issuing the orders, don’t you think?”

“Oh, Cor, you are not duchess yet,” Albina reproaches, “let her pass.”

The heat rises up your back and crawls onto your neck. You feel like you’re suffocating. You feel like the walls are closer together, as if the world is hewn in fire. It is all burning down around you.

“She is being a sour little brat about it, Al,” Cora snaps, “it isn’t fair of her to ruin my engagement. I don’t know where she ever got the idea that Lord Rogers had any mind for h–”

You don’t think. You need to get out of here. You shove Cora out of your way and stomp past her as she gasps. You drop the glove as the needle sinks further into your palm. You sweep out of the door and hurry down the corridor. You hear her, whining pitifully as you flee.

“She shoved me! She–”

“Oh, you did goad her,” Albina’s quiet scolding follows you to the stairs, “put that ribbon away, you’ll only ruin it.”

Ruin… 

The word clings to you as you barrel down the stairs, as if running from your own shame and anger. You love your sister, you would never wish anything horrid on her, but you can’t help that small whisper in your mind that suggests that Lord Rogers may just treat her as cruelly as he has done you.

💙

The autumn continues its slow advance, nipping in the air and at the foliage alike. You smell the crispness as it wafts through the open window of the carriage, cooling the cluster of bodies within. Your father rides with the driver, guffawing loudly with the clop of hooves. Your mother fans herself as she needles away with her relentless critique.

…Albina, push your shoulders back; Hannah, keep your lips shut tight, you don’t need horseflies wandering in; You, fix your bonnet, it is dipping at the front; Oh, Cora, isn’t that a lovely ribbon…

You try not to mope. The more you do, the more pleasure Cora takes in her victory. You will forget it, you will go on as you’ve ever done. Dejected. You fold one hand around the other, your palm tender from the bite of the needle still wrought into your flesh.

You look up as the carriage slows. The lush green of the promenade tinges with edges of russet and patches of goldenrod. Lords and ladies stroll along the brickwork walkway, skirts swishing around languid steps, arms hooked in one another, others perched upon benches or huddled around the grand fountain at the center.

Your father climbs down as the driver unlatches the door. Your mother emerges first, her fan clapping shut sharply and knocking against the frame. Cora is second, then Albina, Hannah, and yourself. You come out behind them and feel your height all the more. You hunch and grip your wrist tight.

“Do not slouch,” your mother looks back and raps your arm with her fan, “no lord wants to walk alongside a hobbling giant.”

“Yes, mother,” you correct yourself and let your vision drift off into a vacant blur.

“Ladies,” a familiar timbre approaches with a pair of footsteps, “you’ve arrived.”

You refuse to look at Lord Rogers as he stands just along your peripheral. He greets your mother with a cordial bow of his head and shakes your father’s hand. At last, he addresses his betrothed as she wiggles in her skirts and nearly squeaks.

“Lord Rogers,” she drawls, “I wore the rubies.”

“Beautiful,” he praises, “my lady, might I request a stroll upon the promenade?”

“Aye, you may,” your father answers, volunteering himself as escort.

“Sir,” Rogers accepts elegantly and offers his arm to Cora, “and perhaps a few more daughters might care to join us?”

“They will remain with me,” your mother insists, “we would like to see the roses.”

You wait until they’ve departed to dare a peek at them. Lord Rogers struts away confidently with his arm through Cora’s. Your father trails them with his brass-tipped cane. Your ribs rack as if they might collapse in on themselves.

“Come girls, the autumn will wilt away the roses,” your mother declares, “let us make our rounds, perhaps we might have two engagements this season, hm?”

You linger behind the others. You keep your head down as you watch the toes of your boots poke out from beneath your skirts with each step. Your led by the hem of your sisters ahead of you.

As you approach the hoop of rose bushes, there is an unexpected furor. Voices trill and flutter, a booming laugh that rolls like thunder. You raise your eyes and see a blond head above a cluster of hats. You don't recognise the lord amid the clan of amused men.

"How rowdy," your mother remarks in her curmudgeon way.

She ignores the pluck of glee for the thorny tangles. Hannah and Albina give longing looks to the uproar but dutifully accompany your mother to the hedges. The eldest of your quartet pets the paling pink petals and grieves the browning at the edges.

The dullness of that moment feels like a promise. This is how life will always be for someone like you. You will never know excitement, you will only ever be a witness, a scrap of collateral left to squander. 

You pretend to admire the greenery. The colours are faded and worn. Just like everything since that night. As you are.

You smell the leaves and the pollen and you're taken back to that moonlit moment. The cool air on your skin, the friction of his figure, his weight trapping you on the stone.

The leaves mesh together in a tapestry of swirling hues. You quickly dab your eyes before your tears can spill over. Those bouts come suddenly and dry up just as soon. You cannot let it take you here.

An emptiness enshrines you and you peer over to find yourself all alone. Your sisters and your mother have left you, forgotten you. Not such an unexpected plight but painful nonetheless. You turn in search of them and nearly collide with another.

You press yourself to the bushes behind you and swallow a gasp, creaking out an apology.

"Apologies, my lord, I did not see you–"

"Lady," the man greets with a courteous dip of his chin, looking down at you. Down! He is even taller than you. 

The same lord with the blond hair who had a crowd raucous. You do not know him. He is rather older than any courtly debut.

"You mustn't catch yourself," he reaches around you delicately and untangles a fold of your skirt from the thorny vines, "it is too fine a dress to tarnish."

"Thank you, sir, it seems I am a bit obtuse at the moment," you force a smile. 

He is very handsome. He eyes a brighter shade than even Lord Rogers and his hair even more golden. That comparison urges you back to the ground. You are still you and you cannot be so foolish as to let yourself believe contrary ever again.

"Might I–"

"I spy–"

You speak at the same time and both correct yourself. You defer and touch your lips in embarrassment, "apologies, once more, I keep treading on your toes."

"I have tough toes," he japes, "I meant to ask if I might have your name."

"Oh, yes, sir," you give him your name, "I admit I am ignorant of your own identity."

"Ah, yes, I have come from far," he grins, "Lord Thor Odinson, of Asgard."

"Asgard, why that is very far," you comment, "well, sir, it was a delight to meet you. Welcome to our homeland."

"A privilege," he returns, "if I might be so forward, as I am a stranger to this land, I would extend to you an invitation to dinner as I acquaint myself with your country. Would that be too improper?"

"Sir," you flutter your fingers at your side as you stand awkwardly before him, "I would needs ask my father."

"Yes, certainly you would, as you are unwed," he says as if untwining a riddle, "I do hope you will be permitted."

"My lord," you bow your head, "my mother…"

You look past him to your mother's fan as she beckons to you with it. Lord Odinson steps aside and extends his arm in gallant dismissal. You shift to move past him.

"Thank you, my lord."

"Allow me to thank you, lady, for entertaining my tedious conversation," he counters and you quickly flit away.

You near your mother as your other sisters crowd her. She is jibbering behind her fan, "...an ambassador," she says and snaps together the folds, "I hope you did not spoil our welcome."

"Mother?" You look at her in confusion, your cheek hot and tingling still.

"With that Lord, he did invite us to a dinner," she explains, "it would be very important for your father."

You shake your head. You don't argue. Ah, but the invitation was extended to all. Are you so foolish to think otherwise? You must shield yourself in the harsh lesson you've been taught. You are not and can never be special.

💙

The night of Lord Odinson's dinner arrives. You wear a gown of black patterned with deep green vines. Plain attire in contrast to Cora's shining scarlet silk, Alvina's buoyant blue bodice, and Hannah's deep rose sleeves. You add a simple beaded ribbon around your head, and a string of pearls around your neck.

"Dour," your mother remarks as she emerges in a tangerine satin, "ah, Cora, my darling, you look splendid. And to think, now that your engagement is public, you will be a pretty ornament on Lord Rogers' arm."

"Mother," she preens, averting her eyes in feigned modesty.

You clutch your reticule tight and glance over as you hear the approach of hooves. It is Lord Rogers' coach. The vehicle bustles towards the gates, open in expectation of him, and you look away. You can hardly bear the sight of red paint that decorates the doors.

His driver slows and breaks in the dirt. He greets your father as ever, gallant and proper. You put your teeth over your lower lip and peek up, catching the glint of Rogers' sapphire irises. His cheek dimples as his brows twitch. You swiftly rescind your gaze, favouring the dust on your slippers to him. He is as handsome as ever but to you, he is a vile cad. A demon clothed in cravat and vest.

He helps your mother first into the coach, then Cora, Hannah, Alvina, and finally yourself. He extends his gloved hand to you and you stare at his palm with disgust. You put your hand in his and step up into the vehicle. He squeezes before he lets go, a subtle tug on your skirt as you duck inside.

You sit on the bench between Albina and Hannah. You play with the strap of your reticule, focusing on it as you coil it like a snake. You only need to survive the journey to lord's manor. You've survived worse, and all at his hand.

💙

The manor is called The Nine Pillars, a rather strange name for a house, but referenced by the columns set into the stone walls. Each is topped with the facsimile of a different beast's head; a lion, a boar, a bear, a wolf, a falcon, a stallion, a bull, a viper, and an elephant. You lean over Albina to take it in, only to be nudged back to the middle.

You sigh and trail the part from the court. Attendants await your arrival at the broad steps of the manor house, the style much unlike that of the other courtly homes. The peak of the house resembles a warship overturned and the walls are without the typical white wash. It is very antiquated yet refined.

You enter the glowing hall, the glass lamps hung from the walls lit in an illuminating speckle. Voices carry from the drawing room where other guests gather and the bustle of the house staff flutters around the corridors and clamours from the kitchen. Your stole is taken by a groom and you nod in acknowledgement at his diligence. Your stomach swirls nervously.

The drawing room is a cluster of swishing skirts, flapping fans, and waggling coat tails.  Your mother and father greet another older couple as your sisters disperse; Cora to show off her betrothed, Albina to whisper to Maria about her novels, and Hannah to gossip about the newest debuts. You find yourself lost before the sea of elegant figures.

You wade towards them, weaving between the bodies, looking around for any sense of welcome. Those who do see you, turn away quickly, as others pretend not to notice your towering form. You will find a place on the wall as you ever do.

"Lady," a deep voice calls but you don't bother to hear it. It cannot possibly be directed at you. It calls again, several times, before pronouncing your name. You spin to face Lord Odinson before you can retreat to your setinel against the wallpaper.

"My Lord," you greet him, "pardon me, there is much going on, I mustn't have heard you calling."

"Ah, but forgive me, it is rather uncouth to be shouting," he stops before you, "my mother always said I did blow in like a storm."

"Oh," you nod politely. You're not used to someone looking you in the eye, not without having to awkwardly contort your posture.

"She would like you, very much, I think."

"Why would you think that, my lord? You hardly know me."

"But I see you, a strong woman, built like a valkyrie. You are resilient and might I so forwardly say, resplendent."

"Sir?" You peer around, looking for an audience, for someone in collusion taking amusement from his false interest. It is always a trick.

"Again, I am the tempest, I cannot be subtle, not with a lady so stunning. Awe-inspiring. If I am the storm, you must be the sky," he remarks boldly.

You face him, a frown.

"Lady, it is a compliment," his face turns sober, "I hope I didn't overstep--"

"It is a joke. Who do you make laugh? For who am I the farce tonight?"

"Joke? Not at all. Never," he glances around the room. He is quiet as he takes in those around him. As he sees their elusive eyes and cold shoulders. "They cannot see what is right in front of them. A goddess--"

"No," you nearly sob, "no. I am not goddess." You bow your head, as you hear that same word from enough, a memory; Athena. "No sir," you put your chin up defiantly, "I will not be fooled by you."

"Fooled, my lady--"

"Excuse me," you shuffle away from him, "I need air..."

"Lady," he calls again but you elude him, delving into the crowd, marching away with head and shoulders down.

As you near the door, you hear a familiar laugh. You look to find Lord Rogers with Cora on his arm, his golden hair shining, her locks perfectly spiraled and set. He tilts his head towards her, "I call her my Athena," he says loudly, as if he knows you are listening, "for I worship her."

His eyes flick up and meet yours. You recoil and spin on your heel. Scalded, you flee into the hall and huddle into an alcove. No one would notice if you stayed out here all night.

💙

You sit among the guests at the table. The women chatter as the men speak in low voices about their business or some writ tabled in session that morning. You do neither as you're isolated in the fervor. As sherry and wine flows generously, you partake only of lemon water and loneliness.

You peer down the table and find yourself drawn to a pair of eyes. Lord Odinson. Where you expect tension or disappointment, you find only an amiable smile. He is almost dreamy as he watches you. You turn in your seat and look at Albina next to you, she's bent so far toward Hannah in her whispering that he likely cannot even see you.

You keep your gaze on the table. You will not encourage him. Lord Rogers taught you caution, he taught you your worth and not to think yourself above it. You feel suddenly sick, as if you could spew onto the table.

There is the clink of glass and someone clears their throat. The buzz around you hushes and all turn to the head of the table. You look over reluctantly. It is Lord Odinson, the host, about to make his toast. He stands, a crystal glass in hand.

"Welcome and thank you all for attending. You've all made me feel rather at home," he raises his glass and the guests mirror him. You lift yours a few seconds too late. He sets down the flute and continues, "and while you've all ingratiated me so kindly, I hope you might tolerate a little piece of my homeland."

He pauses and gestures to someone you can't see. A servant comes forward, holding a wooden box carved with symbols you don't recognise. Runes, perhaps.

"In my faith, there are the Valkyrie. They are the embodiment of female power and prestige and thus they are the keeper of our culture, of our ways. They are fertile and beautiful. So it is that each season, one lady is crowned as Valkyrie. I understand that I've come late but I am honoured to spend the season here, in your society. Thus, tonight has been more than a dinner..."

He stops as the servant opens the box. He takes out a crown of daisies wrought in gold and silver. He presents it to the room with a smile. 

Cora leans forward as her eyes round in greed and the other women sit up, admiring the piece of jewelry and peeking at each other. You don't move, you stare at the wall and wait. You wonder who it will be. Maybe Cora or Maybelle and her doe eyes.

There is another lull, swollen with anticipation and intrigue. Lord Odinson gives a soft chuckle before he declares his valkyrie. No one speaks, none says a word. You blink. He speaks again.

You feel a nudge on your elbow as Albina leans towards you and whispers, "it's you."

You glance at her, then along the table. Cora's eyes are narrowed at you and Lord Rogers looks like he's chewing his own tongue. You turn your attention to Lord Odinson, trapped in surprise and disbelief.

"Yes, lady, please, come and claim your crown."

You grasp the arms of the chair and push it out as you rise. You walk stiffly, keenly aware of those watching you. You stride down the long table and near Lord Odinson. He faces you and hovers the crown over your head. You bow and he lowers it on, wiggling it to be sure it's firmly in place.

"It is I who shoulder defer to you, sweet lady," he lowers himself to a knee and bows his head, "our valkyrie."

The silence looms. You refuse to look back. You feel the stare, the disapproval, and disappointment. There's a clap and you flinch. Then another, and slowly the applause build.

Lord Odinson stands again and takes your hand, placing a kiss on your fingers. You meet his eyes, so intense you could melt.

"As I said," he keeps his timbre low, "it was not a joke."

💙

"Can I see it?" Albina asks as you go to set the crown on the narrow table.

"Oh, certainly," you turn to her. You're still burning with excitement. It's only one night, it doesn't mean anything, but it is a good night.

You hand her the crown and she takes it, admiring the craftwork with aw and showing it to Hannah as she nears. She places it on her head and rocks her shoulders.

"I am the valkyrie," she japes.

"No, I am the valkyrie," Hannah snatches the crown and dawns it.

"You are both children," Cora sneers as she shoves her ribbon of rubies into her jewelry box, "please, that lord is only here to pander to our king on his family's behalf. Nothing else."

"You're only jealous," Hannah rebukes.

"Am not," Cora stomps up and swipes the crown of daisies, "what would I need with a meaningless thing like this. Queen of what? The chimera? You don't even know what a valkyrie is."

"Nor do you," Hannah retorts.

"I do," Albina asserts, "they are an army of female warriors who lead the dead--"

"I do not give a fig," Cora flings the crown so it hits the bedframe and bounces off, "we don't believe in them here. That man is a fool."

"Oh, I saw you fawning over him, Cor," Albina goads, "don't lie. Rogers himself looked concerned."

"Fawning? Don't be silly."

You don't say a word as you go to fetch the crown from where it's fallen. You notice that one of the petals is bent out of shape. Oh, no.

"It's fine. She's right, it's just a silly crown."

"You all need to grow up," Cora insists, "as a woman soon to be married, I can see now how juvenile you lot are."

"Not married yet," Hannah snaps, "sooner the better if it means you're off."

"Charming, Hannah, I wonder why you've not had a proposal yet?"

Hannah waves her off with her hand and goes to Albina, "I'm tired. Help me out of my dress."

You turn away and set the crown on top of your own jewelry box. You take your time undoing the ribbon on your head and unclasping your pearls. You peel off your gloves and as you face the bed, you see Cora's hot glare.

"You'll see. That Lord Odinson will leave you behind and next season, you'll be on your way to a convent."

You swallow down her bitter words. Deep down, you don't doubt it. She is likely right but less than clairvoyant. You know better than any what your fate will be.

💙

You watch from the window as Cora walks in the gardens with Lord Rogers. Albina is in bed, moaning and rubbing her pelvis, as Hannah is downstairs with your mother stitching at her frame. The winds of autumn rattle the window frame and you back away, nervous to be caught observing.

You sit on the mattress and lean back against the pillow. Albina curls up on her side and faces you. You offer your hand and she latches on, squeezing. Her cramps have struck and she's already stained several shifts. Her blood has her in agony.

You don't mind keeping her company. Your own was due a week ago. You know because you've not stopped counting the days since... since Lord Rogers' proposal.

"I should hate to miss the promenade..." she mourns.

"You shouldn't miss very much," you assure her.

"Yes, but it will be cold soon. Too cold and it will snow and I will hate to go," she utters, "will you go?"

"Perhaps," you answer.

"And walk with Lord Odinson again?"

"If he wishes."

"I am certain he does. He is very friendly. Last night, when he told us of his families stronghold. About the mountains and the crossing rivers..."

"He has many stories," you agree, "and he tells them well."

"Oh, he does. He tells them for you."

"Pardon?" You nearly laugh.

"Sister, don't act clueless. He gave you his crown--"

"It was only a game."

"I do not think he plays."

"Why..."

"He always finds us on the promenade, doesn't he?"

"He is polite."

"Oh, you are stubborn."

You puff but don't argue further. She's wrong but she can't realise she is. She doesn't know what's happened, how you know for certain that he has no true intentions. That he cannot be any different than Lord Rogers.

💙

The hedges along the promenade are thinning. The roses have wilted away and the greenery curls and recedes. You wear a pair of lambskin gloves and an unlined cloak. It isn’t cold enough yet for fur.

As he does most days, Lord Rogers approaches to greet your family. Your mother and father bow to him briefly and bid their best before strolling off to meet with their peers. The betrothed couple will lead the way, as you walk behind with Hannah. Albina remains abed at home, her presence sorely missed as Hannah yawns and makes faces at the duke and his engaged.

You resist the urge to look around, to search for the man who crowned you valkyrie, the same who appeared at your side nearly every day. You restrained yourself from depending on his presence, from longing for it. He is a fleeting acquaintance, destined to return to Asgard one day. You shouldn't think so much of him.

“I wish we could have a summer wedding,” Lord Rogers declares, his voice raised loud enough for you to hear.

“But, my lord, that is so far away,” Cora protests, “so long as we wed before the snows, I will be content.”

“You, content. I am not mistaken, I know the sort of wife I’ve chosen,” he chides, “you only relish in that you might wear velvet.”

“Not at all my lord. I relish that I should marry you,” she preens, her arm hooked in his firmly. 

You stare at the linking of their bodies. You remember the way he held you down, the way he cooed and coaxed, how he so softly coerced you. You should fear for your own sister, yet their misconceptions may be mutual.

“My ladies,” Lord Odinson’s voice precedes him and he steps up beside you, “and my lord. You are ashen, does the cold not agree with you?”

Lord Rogers glances over his shoulder, an edge in his jaw, “I handle it finely.”

You don’t mention he was only just longing for the summer. It isn’t any of your concern and you don’t very much care. Or you try not to.

“In Asgard, the winters, ah, they are splendid,” Odinson begins vibrantly, “there are days when the snow builds walls on its own and the next, they blow over to rippling oceans of frost. Endless and powdery.”

“Oh, we do not get so much snow here,” Hannah comments, “I don’t think I would survive such winters.”

You nod, listening intently as you picture the swirling snow and white dunes. It reminds you of a fairytale or a scene from one of Albina’s novels. Otherworldly and fantastical. Something entirely new and wonderful, but terrifying.

“And you, my valkyrie, would you face the blizzards?” Odinson challenges.

You hum thoughtfully. You know he is looking at you but you are too shy, too wary to return his gaze.

“I suppose with the proper cloak and a thick pair of boots, I might make it through, sir.”

“A coach and a horse, and any lady would say the same,” Rogers scoffs back at you, “girls hardly know the truth in matters of spirit. They can be overly presumptuous upon their own abilities.”

Odinson pushes his jacket back, hooking his finger in the pocket of his vest, “women are strong in ways men can never be. They carry lives, they bear the burden of the world, they maintain a grace lost on most men.”

“And the demure to the strength of men, to the wisdom they can never possess,” Rogers snaps back, laughing cruelly, “it is in the vows they take, is it not?”

“Only the strongest man can see the strength of women,” Odinson dismisses calmly, “my own mother keeps a pack of snow wolves. She goes out in the winter storms and reins her own sleigh. All while my father sits warm before his hearth. Her victories are not his losses.”

“Sounds rather quaint, Lord Odinson,” Rogers clucks, “your country strikes me as lacking civility.”

“Uncivil is a boring way of saying lively, and I promise, my home is much and more,” Odinson affirms, “but I think that fate has a way of placing us all where we belong, wouldn’t you agree?”

Rogers is quiet for a moment, his steps heavy as he strides on. He turns his head, his eye flicking between Odinson and yourself. He snorts and turns forward again.

“We must all take as we earn, accept what we do and do not get,” he says tritely, speaking animatedly with his hand in the air, “more often than not, we have only ourselves to thank… or blame.”

As cryptic as his words are, they are plain to you. That night with him was not unearned. Your foolishness bought your destruction. You must now live out your sentence of watching him walk arm in arm with another woman, your sister, everyday. You must accept that what he took can never be reclaimed.

💙

You sit in the garden, wrapped in a shawl as autumn breezes around the table. Your mother has a fur on her shoulders and your sisters chatter their teeth as they sip their tea. You rub your hands together, your gloves doing little against the crisp air. You suspect the days of dining without are close to done.

As you watch a leaf drift down from a branch, the hinges whine, and your father emerges from within. He gives an emphatic shiver as he claps his hands together. He seems rather pleases as he has his shoulders pushed back and his hat on a tilt.

"Daughters, my lovely wife, it is a beautiful day, is it not?"

You wonder at his uncharacteristic glee. Your father is ever practical and serious, on all matters. More so, he confounds as through the mutter of responses, he looks to you. You nod and agree with his sentiment softly.

"My daughter, my eldest, you... have a visitor."

You blink and withhold a grimace. He hates when you make faces. You force a smile and your voice crackles as you muster your voice.

"A visitor, father?"

"He is inside, he cannot have his tea alone," he says as if you should know who he alludes to.

You stand as Cora rolls her eyes, "who could be here for her?"

You notice how Albina and Hannah share a look. You cannot determine whether it is at your expense or Cora's.

"Daughter," your father drawls, "do not be sour that your betrothed eludes you."

"He does not--"

"So be happy for your sister and enjoy your tea."

She huffs and reaches for her cup. You step around her chair and approach your father. He smiles and as you near, he puts his hands on your arms. He is smiling. Genuinely.

"He has my blessing, of course, I will need accompany you to maintain propriety," he speaks quietly, "come."

You dip your chin down and meekly follow him inside. A servant pulls the door closed behind you. Your steps echo down the corridor as your father leads you to the sunroom. As you enter, there is some rustling and a subtle creak. 

You peek up to find Lord Odinson standing with a hand on his vest. He bows to you and your father. You stop in the archway.

Your father proceeds, unaffected, and sits in the cushioned chair nearest the fireplace. He slaps his thighs as he splays his legs and grunts.

"Well, then, get on with it," your father grumbles.

Lord Odinson straightens his posture and gulps. He reaches up and toys with his cravat, the starch fabric already askew. He smiles, his cheeks reddening. He sways and looks between your father and yourself.

"I thought it very difficult to put this in ink but now I am here, I find the same is true of words," he says, laughing at his own joke, "so, lady, I trust this isn't very surprising to you. I've made my intentions clear and I've made your father a proposal, which he has graciously approved. Thus I put to you the question..." he twists his cravat, stops himself, then grips his jacket lapel, "would I be a fair husband to you? Er, or rather, would you... would you... honour me as a wife?"

The air stills and the chill that trailed you in dissipates. You blink dumbly and let your mouth fall open. You glance at your father. You understand his happiness now and yet you cannot believe it.

Your stomach churns and you clamp your mouth shut. The silence turns unbearable. You notice how Lord Odinson's cheek spasms and his complexion drains.

"Yes, sir, I... suppose... rather, I would..." you feel as if you're choking, "is it true? A marriage?"

"You wouldn't have to leave your homeland forever. I have some months ahead of me and my holdings here. We could visit--"

"Yes, yes, I will marry you," you murmur.

You hold your breath. Waiting. For one of them to break. For a peel of laughter between them. For it all to be another trick.

"Glory," Odinson exclaims as he proffers his hand, "shall we sit for tea, then, my valkyrie?"

You nod, unable to speak for fear of croaking. It is real. This man is real but you worry, his attention may yet prove false.

[writingroom21]

Hi hello! I love your writing and I thought I would send a request idea I had if you’re willing.

Could you do a Rafe x reader where they recently started dating and went to high school together but the reader has always been a big nerd but she “got hot” after leaving high school, however she still hangs out with the same group of “nerds” as high school which consists of a few guys and Rafe just doesn’t like the types of people you hang out with because “he doesn’t think they’re good enough for her” and she’s constantly reminding him thats not fair or true since she is still one of the and has been since they were kids. Rafe’s insecure because his friends say that if he doesn’t chill out on his jealousy she’ll probably dump him for one of her friends if she realises how much of an asshole he really is. -Maybe they resolve it with a Lord of the rings movie night with her friends🩵🪼

Nerd

Warnings: none

Wc: 2.1K

A/N: Hey! Thank you so much! I hope you like this and never be afraid to send requests

Once again here he is sitting off to the side not knowing what the hell you are talking about. You and your friends are going on and on about some fantasy book series he hasn’t even heard of. This seems to be a constant since the two of you got together a few months back. You would mention or quote something he knows nothing about. Normally he wouldn’t care because no girl lasts long but you were different.

Sometimes he still feels bad for the person he was when you were both in highschool. He can remember hearing your name but for the life of him he couldn’t remember actually seeing you anywhere. Which would make sense since you ran in two different social groups. Rafe was the typical rich cool kid that thought he was better than everyone else. You well you were the nerd in the front of the class that knew every answer.

Back then he wouldn’t have even thought twice about you. To be honest he probably walked past you in the halls and never noticed you. But one day a few months back he was out with Topper and saw you. He thought you were hot and wanted to get your number. 

“Yo know who that is?” Topper looks at where Rafe is pointing to and sees you. “Yeah that's the girl from your homeroom. Remember the one that wore the stupid Harry Potter shirt.” Rafe tries to think hard but he doesn’t recall the memory. “Nah don’t remember her.” Topper laughs and claps a hand over his shoulder. “That was because she hung out with the nerdy kids and you were too popular to care.”

He honestly doesn’t even know why you gave him a chance. It seemed like the two of you were completely different people yet here you were. You smiled at him and every girl was just done for him. All of his thoughts were consumed about you. What you were doing that day. What your favorite color was. Even if your family would like him.

Getting your number and not blowing the first date was his best achievement to date. But that all seemed futile when he couldn’t keep you entertained like your friends. It started out small, you saying random quotes when you would hang out. He would always go “Huh?” then you would try to explain what you were saying. Only to say “It’s okay that you don’t get it. It’s not your thing.” Which only made him feel even worse.

It’s not like he hated your hobbies or what you were interested in. If he had one wish it would be used to make himself less moronic. That’s what it really came down to for him. He felt dumb.

You would tell him about the books you were reading or the shows and he would get a thing. Sure some of them were fantasy so he knows that it isn’t real but it didn’t make him feel any less dumb. He could hear how you and your friends talk when you are on the phone and they get it. They understand all of your jokes, quotes and references. For heaven's sake you even seem to laugh more with them than you do him.

It got to the point where everyone in his life was ganging up on him for his feelings. It feels like he can’t even voice his concerns without someone calling him out.

“All they talk about is that dumb show. I tried to watch it once with them and they kept asking me questions about it. “Oh Rafe, what did you think about Donna being their daughter?”, “Can you believe that David Tennet is back for a short time. It’s so cool,” I swear they are doing it to make me look dumb.”

Topper and Kelce share a look with each other. This isn’t the first time Rafe has brought up this topic with them. It usually consists of them just nodding along to what he says, not wanting to get too involved. “It honestly sounds like they are trying to include you.” Kelce says.

Rafe shoots him a look from across the table. “Man you don’t get it. It’s the way they say it, like they know I don’t understand and want me to trip up.” Kelce shifts in his seat. “Maybe they are actually trying to be nice. But you know they are nervous about having a new person in the group so the tone comes off weird. I don’t know man.” Rafe is trying to see how that could be the case but the piece won’t fit. “No, they are just not good enough for her. They can’t accept the fact she changed and is with me. It’s just some ploy to get her to leave me.”

“Well if you keep talking like that then maybe she will leave you. These are her friends she’s had for years. They just are trying to include you because you’re her boyfriend.” Topper stares back at Rafe, daring him to say something. “You don’t get it.” Rafe tries to start back up again but Topper isn’t having it.

“No Rafe you don’t get it. This is who she is, sure she’s gotten better looking. But deep down all that stuff is what she’s interested in. Those are her friends for a reason, that’s because they love her and relate to her. How long do you think you can continue being jealous of that before she realizes she’s better off?”

Rafe doesn’t say anything sitting there as Topper keeps going. “You’re lucky she hasn’t heard you say any of this. Could you imagine how hurt she would be if she knew how you were talking about her friends? I may not know her that well but I sure as hell know that it would make her sad. Plus what you don’t like them for is a part of her. She could take that as you not liking who she really is and wanting to change her.”

Kelce just nods along, agreeing with all of the points made. “He’s right dude. You need to control yourself or you won’t have a girlfriend anymore.” 

That conversation has been playing in his mind for the past two weeks. Everytime he talked or saw you he would look at how you behaved. He knew you liked it but it never fully clicked that you really like it. You like reading fantasy books over anything else. You like talking about movies like Star Wars. Like dressing up as characters with your friends for some convention.

All of the evidence was right in front of him and he never fully noticed. It made him feel even more shitty because how couldn’t he know all of this? He was your boyfriend but was too wrapped up in his version of you to see the real you. But now that he is really looking he can see the real you and it’s better than he thought. You were even funnier when he got past the feeling of being dumb.

You even smile a bit bigger when you fully pay attention and comment on things. It’s not like he didn’t pay attention to you, just that his mind was often clouded with the thoughts of him not being good enough. He doesn’t get how he could be so wrapped up in himself and not focus on you. He’s been trying hard to fix all of that but sitting here not knowing what you are talking about isn’t helping. 

All of your friends are commenting on different characters and plot lines. Rafe couldn’t even keep up if he wanted to. A hand resting on his thigh snaps him out of his thoughts. He looks down to see your manicured nails and the ring he got you. Enveloping your hand in his, he brings it to his lips to give it a kiss.

You lean closer to him, whispering in his ear. “Are you okay?” He smiles and wraps an arm around your shoulders. Making you scoot closer to rest against his side. “I am now.” You look up and give him a weird look, wanting to ask him what he meant.

“Hey lovebirds, what are you talking about?” One of your friends, he thinks her name is Sam, asks. “Nothing, just how hot he is.” You and your friends all giggle like school girls. “Actually I was asking what you are all talking about.” He took everyone by surprise, even himself. Usually when you have Rafe around your friends he’s super awkward, not really saying anything. This is the first time he actually tried to participate in a conversation.

“Oh it’s this book series I started called His Dark Materials. Technically I’m reading to my niece but it’s a good book so far.” Rafe nods. “What is it about?” He can’t see it but you have the biggest smile on your face proud of him for trying with your friends. Sam goes on to tell Rafe all about the book so far. Telling him that he should give it a read.

“Oh I don’t really read and never got into fantasy stuff like that.” The room went silent, all eyes on him. At first he thought he said something wrong, offended them somehow. It wasn’t until Becky shrieked that he realized that wasn’t the issue. “Does that mean you’ve never read Lord of the Rings?” The guilty look on his face was enough of an answer for them.

They all groan and you have to hide in his neck so they can’t see you laughing. It wasn’t like they didn’t know he didn’t find their interests well interesting. They all knew that but somehow had some false hope that he was a secret nerd like them. Like hello he is literally dating you, the biggest nerd out of all of them. “Dude how can you be dating someone who hasn’t read the book? Tell me you’ve seen the movies.” 

His leg starts bouncing afraid that once he leaves they will tell you to dumb him. “Um no, never watched them.” Their groans get more desperate with his answer. You sit back properly and try to contain your giggles. “Come on guys, not everyone is going to like them.” His hand squeezes your shoulder, soothing you.

“It’s okay. Never had anyone to really show them to me. Maybe all of you can tell me what I’m missing out on.” That peace offering opened up a whole can of worms. You and your friends spent hours telling him all about the series. Even after you both had left it was all you could talk about. Then a couple of days later he was added into a group chat with all of your friends.

Sam: Welcome to our Chamber of Secrets

Sam: That was a Harry Potter reference btw

Rafe: I actually understood that one

Becks: See he’s already learning

You: Guys don’t bombarded him with messages. You all said you’d be on your best behavior.

Sage: Dude this is like big. We are letting him in the group. Feel special we don’t do this for anyone.

Rafe: I definitely feel special. Thank you

Claire: We want you to join campaign

Rafe: Campaign?

Claire: Yeah you know DnD. Dungeons and Dragons

Rafe: Oh that’s really nice of you but I’ve never played

You: She’s joking. We want to watch Lord of The Rings this weekend. That way you can see what we were talking about. But you don’t have to if you don’t want to.

Rafe: Phew I was scared for a second. I’m down

That brings him to Saturday, sitting on a tiny loveseat with you curled up on his side. The first movie was almost done and he doesn’t find himself hating it. He likes hearing all of the commentary you all share. Giving him inside tips about the movie he wouldn’t have picked up on. Telling him parts from the books he wouldn’t wouldn’t have known about. 

“Thank you.” It’s barely a whisper. You were trying to keep your voice down to not disrupt everyone else watching. Rafe looks down at you, smiling before pecking your lips. “For what?” You pull the blanket to cover the both of you better, snuggling him. “Doing this for me. I know this isn’t how you like to spend your weekends. So thank you for sacrificing something for me.”

“It’s not a sacrifice. You deserve to have someone who tries things you like. I want to be that person.” You give his thigh squeeze. “You’ll always be my person.”

[raven-dor]

say yes to heaven

In which peter pevensie wishes he wasn't such an oblivious nitwit

PAIRING: peter pevensie x reader, susan pevensie x PLATONIC!reader, edmund pevensie x PLATONIC!reader, lucy pevensie x PLATONIC!reader

WARNINGS: SET DURING THE GOLDEN AGE, established relationship, angst, old friends, banter, arguing (not actual arguing, just reader knowing her worth, peter just stands there), ANGST AGAIN

WORD COUNT: 2,963

AN: this is an excerpt from my fanfic on wattpad!! if you want to read the whole book (tltwtw-the last battle) it's on there (raven-dor)! ALSO there will be a part two to this, so keep your eyes peeled<3

say yes to me

Edmund and Peter burst through the dining room doors, covered in snow. The girls laughed at their pink faces.

Lucy smirked. "Have fun, did you?"

Edmund laughed. "I did." He shoved his brother before sitting down. "Not so sure about Peter. He was complaining the whole time."

Peter murmured into his stew. "I did not."

Y/N giggled. "I find that hard to believe. You've always been a big baby."

"I have not-"

Susan rolled her eyes. "I seem to remember shivering while walking down the halls only two days ago."

Peter glared at his sister. "Whose side are you on here?"

Susan ignored her brother and looked at Y/N teasingly. "Lord Eluna asked about you again."

Her face turned red. "Really?"

Susan nodded. "I was walking to my morning meeting, and he stopped me in the hall to ask where you were."

Lucy laughed. "Someone's got a secret admirer."

Edmund murmured. "It's not exactly a secret Lu-"

Peter looked up from his food. "So, Lord Eluna?"

Y/N nodded. "He's sweet."

He smirked. "He's not the best swordsman."

She sighed. "I don't measure a man's worth by his swordsmanship."

He looked across the table, his eyes full of curiosity. "So what do you measure a man's worth by?"

Susan looked at Edmund, and rolled her eyes, murmuring. "Here we go."

Y/N glared at the eldest Pevensie. "Do you really want to know?"

He nodded. "Yes, that is why I asked."

She smirked. "Well they have to be extremely tall, an amazing ruler, and hmm what else..." She returned to her earlier glare. "Not you."

He slapped his hand to his heart. "You wound me, Y/N."

She rolled her eyes. "I don't need to lay out my requirements for you, thank you very much."

Lucy huffed. "Can we talk about something else please?"

Y/N nodded. "I'd be glad to, Lu." She smiled at the young girl. "How was tutoring today?"

Lucy smirked and went on and on about how she had pranked the mean tutor, Y/N and her siblings listening intently. Well, all of them besides Peter. He was staring at her, trying to figure out how to finally woo her.

He had been planning on courting her for a while. At the beginning of their reign, they had a flirtatious relationship, but it never went anything beyond that. And a year ago, when the new young lords came in, he thought he had lost her to Lord Eluna.

Stupid Lord Eluna.

He didn't know what her favorite color was, or her favorite song. He didn't know how she liked her eggs, or how she preferred blueberries to strawberries. How she took care of his siblings when he couldn't, treating them as if they were her own.

Even when they had left London, she had picked up Lucy without a second thought and made sure she got to see her mother one last time. She helped Edmund and always empathized with him, even when he had unknowingly betrayed them.

She understood Susan and became her close friend. His eldest sister had always had a tough time making friends, but Y/N brought out the best in Susan.

And she always helped him. She was at his side during the Battle of Beruna when Aslan had fallen. She was at his side when Maugrim attacked, and she was there when they ran across the ice field away from what they thought was the White Witch.

She had been a constant in his life from the age of eight, and you really couldn't blame him for being infatuated with her. He stared at her once again, and he spoke before he could think. "Can I speak to you in private, Y/N?"

The table quieted, but they kept talking, seemingly trying to ignore his misstep. He cleared his throat, and spoke louder, making sure they listened to him. That she listened to him.

"Y/N, may I talk to you in private?"

The table hushed, and she looked back down the table at the grumpy blonde. She smiled icily. "Exactly why would I do that?"

He stood up and glared at her. "Y/N/N-"

Edmund cleared his throat. "Maybe we should-"

She stood up, glaring right back at the giant oaf. "No need. I'm leaving. I have to meet with Lord Eluna anyway." She smiled quickly at the three neutral Pevensies. "I'll see you all later."

She walked out of the room, her dress flowing behind her as she left. Peter stalked after her, not even bothering to say farewell to his siblings. She ignored his calls, and that only made him angrier. Turning the corner, she was basically tackled into the library.

She gasped, hissing at the High King. "What in the world is your problem?"

He looked down at her, his face full of confusion. No words left his mouth, he simply stared down at the flustered and frustrated girl.

This in turn only made her more frustrated. She shook against his hold. "Speak you- you oaf!"

"I know you."

She sighed, her glare wavering. "What does that have to-"

He shook his head. "I know you, and I know Lord Eluna. And while I do agree that Lord Eluna is a good man, a great man even..." She stared into her soul. "He is not what you want."

She laughed. "You do not know what I want."

He scoffed. "For god's sake Y/N, we grew up together. We have seen each other every single day for the past ten years."

She pulled herself out of his grip. "I've grown Peter. I've realized that waiting around for fantasies helps no one." He seemed to stop breathing, and she huffed. "I'm being practical."

"You have never been one for being practical. You do what you believe is right." He whispered, curious to hear her answer. "What do you think is right?"

She hugged herself. "I think whatever benefits Narnia the most is what is right."

He nodded, walking out of the library without another word. She sighed, yelling out to him. "Peter-"

He stopped instantly, whipping around. "Yes?"

"I-" She stopped herself, her face dropping. "Nevermind."

Y/N put in her last earring and inspected herself in the mirror. Aslan, she loved this dress, and thankfully she wouldn't be too cold thanks to the long sleeves. She opened her door and immediately saw Peter.

And by immediately, she opened her door and he was outside it with his fist up, preparing to knock. He stepped back and grinned.

"You- You-"

She smiled, patting him on the arm. "Shall we go?"

He nodded, looping his arm through hers. They walked the halls leisurely. Besides, events couldn't formally start without one of them present, so they were never late. Technically speaking that is. "You look beautiful Y/N/N." He smiled down at her. "Truly."

She smiled softly. "Thank you, Peter." She nudged him. "All the ladies won't be able to take their eyes off of you."

He murmured. "I don't want all the ladies to look at me."

She tilted her head. "What was that?"

"I said I don't flaunt all the tapestries." He cleared his throat. "It's something I say every time I enter an event. Calms the nerves."

She laughed. "Are you sure you're alright?"

They turned the corner, and the ballroom doors stood, proud as ever with garlands and ornaments hanging elaborately. She grinned. "Susan has outdone herself."

"She has. Though I'm not surprised. She's a perfectionist."

Y/N smacked him lightly. "Be nice."

Peter removed his arm from hers and bowed. "I shall see you soon, my lady." The great doors opened and Peter stood tall, walking out with his head held high.

It was a few minutes later when the doors began to open. She took a deep breath, and the herald began the introduction.

"Her Imperial Highness, The Noble Seer of Old, High Queen Y/N, the Passionate."

She stepped out and descended the steps slowly. The royals were standing at the base of their thrones, Peter grinning widely from across the room.

The crowd parted, and she made her way to the platform before sitting down on her throne. Smiling at the nobles and subjects below her, she looked at Susan, nodding.

Susan cleared her throat, clapping her hands. "Let the festivities begin!"

Lucy spoke to Edmund in a hushed tone, careful not to have nosy bureaucrats butt into their conversation. "Where's Su and Y/N?"

Edmund held back a smirk as he pointed to the small crowd of young lords, who seemed rather entranced by the two queens. "Over there." 

Lucy, unlike her brother, held back no signs of amusement. She laughed, nudging her brother. "Oh my. Those lords think they actually have a chance." 

Edmund laughed with her, shocked at what his little sister had just said. "Why, Lu, I think that might be the meanest thing you've ever said."

 

Y/N couldn't remember how many times she had danced in the past two hours or how many times she had talked to the noblewomen about talking down to the Cair Paravel servants. She was currently escaping the crowd of young men for a moment, finding the balcony a nice place to relax.

Or at least it had been relaxing. A voice broke through her short-lived peace. "Hello, Your Majesty."

She turned around, smiling gently. "Hello, Lord Eluna."

He gestured to the sea below them. "It is beautiful, is it not?"

"Very. I never tire of this view, I can assure you."

He nodded. "Quite." They stood there for a moment in silence, before he spoke again. "I wanted to ask you something."

Her heart dropped, but she nodded. "Yes, my lord?"

He gulped. "We are- we are fond of each other, no?"

She smiled, nodding. Maybe if she laid out her next words carefully, she would be able to get out of this mess. "I always rely on you for counsel, yes."

He nodded. "Yes, yes." He stared back out at the sea again, fidgeting with a box. She wanted to melt into the ground. He turned back to her, grabbing one of her hands. "I have been infatuated with you ever since my father sent me here, and you have shown me nothing but kindness. I-" He began to kneel. "You are a wonderful beauty, and I would like to ask you-" He was on his knee, and the box opened. She tried not to laugh. "I would like to ask you to marry me."

She knew it. Aslan, she hated being right. She smiled gently down at him. "Lord Eluna-"

He shook his head. "Please, call me Timin-"

"Lord Eluna, I'm sorry."

His face dropped. "Whatever for, my lady?"

"I- I cannot marry you."

He stood up, closing the box. His eyes were no longer sparkling with excitement. "May I ask why?"

There's what had Y/N stumped. He was a nice man, who always had a kind word to say. He held the door open for her whenever he saw her nearby.

But that's not what she wanted. Who she wanted.

A cough broke the awkward silence, and Lord Eluna fell into a deep bow. "Your Majesty."

Peter nodded. "Lord Eluna." He smiled at Y/N. "My lady."

"My King."

He looked in between her and the young Lord. "Did I interrupt something?"

Lord Eluna shook his head. "Not at all my lord. I was just leaving." He looked at her once more, murmuring. "Please reconsider."

She smiled, nodding. "Good night, Lord Eluna."

The young lord walked off the balcony, leaving the King and Queen alone. She turned back around, not wanting to look at Peter for the moment.

He huffed. "What did he do?"

"I came out here to relax, you know."

"What did he do Y/N?"

Y/N laughed. "What didn't he do, more like."

Peter's heart dropped. "What?"

She rolled her eyes. "Not like that you numbskull." She turned around, a ghost of a smile on her face. "He proposed to me."

The High King stared at her, his eyes growing wider by the millisecond. "He did what?"

"You know. When a man gets on one knee and then he-"

Peter glared at her. "Yes, yes. I know." He walked closer to her. "Did you say yes?"

She sighed. "Well, that's complicated."

"I hardly see how that is a complicated question. Did you say yes or no?"

She glared at him. "At first I said no-" He smiled before she realized she had said at first.

"At first?" He stood directly in front of her. "And what about now?"

"Well, I'm reconsidering his proposal."

Peter's heart dropped again. She looked at the ground. "He comes from a good family. He's a very good man, a nice man, and he would be able to provide for me. Of course, I'd have to move to Archenland, but I can still visit." She looked up at Peter slowly. "It would be good for the kingdom, to have that firm of an alliance with the Archenland and it's territories."

Peter just stared at her while she continued her nervous rambling. "I'm sure he'd love me enough, I'd learn to tolerate him with time. I hear he has horses, which is good, I can still go on rides. I could even bring Penelope. And apparently, Archeland has amazing tutors, so our children would not be inept-"

Peter stopped her. "You're not seriously thinking of marrying him?"

Her eyes were full of uncertainty as she finally looked up at the eldest Pevensie. "He's a good choice."

"But you don't love him."

"Well it's not like I have anyone else interested in me, do I?" 

He laughed, as if she hadn't just been surrounded by at least twenty or so young lords. She tried not to huff in annoyance. 

"I meant that I don't have any serious choices. Those men just ogle and stare, like I'm a prize to be won." She stared up at him, and their eyes connected, making her feel five times smaller. "At least he looks at me like I'm a person." Peter held their stare, like he was trying to pierce into her soul. "He's a good man."

"You keep saying that."

"Is there a reason that I should turn him down?" She moved closer to him. "One that I'm not aware of?"

His breath hitched. "I-"

She backed away, nodding. "That's what I thought." She bowed quickly. "I'll see you inside."

Peter took a deep breath and whispered. "Don't marry him."

She stopped. "What?"

"Don't marry him. Don't marry any of those lords."

She scoffed, whipping back around. "Peter, you're being mean." He walked up to her, and she pushed him away. "You're being mean, stop it."

"How am I being mean-"

"You have never admitted that you love me. All you do is act overprotective when I want to fight, or when a lord speaks disrespectfully. You flirt with me constantly, you're complimenting me and calling me beautiful, but you never say anything that will really affect our relationship. And now that a nice man, a good honest man that is very forthright with what he wants asks me to marry him, you simply say no and I have to listen?" Her eyes were watering. "You do not get to dictate my life."

He sighed. "Y/N/N I-"

She shook her head. "And I don't want to hear it now. I don't want you to say anything now, because now it feels forced, especially after I've told you all of that. Because I-" She smiled at his through her tears. "I have cared for you ever since I've known you, ever since I moved next door when we were 9, and you just treat me like a toy. You only entertain your feelings with me when you're bored. And I am sick of it."

"Y/N/N, that is not true-"

"No, I'm leaving you now. Don't follow me." She wiped away her tears and straightened her posture. 

She strolled into the ballroom, stopping beside Susan. "Your brother-" Susan rolled her eyes. "What has he done now?"

"Where do I begin-"

Susan groaned. "You might want to wait to tell me." She nudged her side. "He's coming over here."

Peter was making his way across the ballroom, his eyes on her form.

She huffed. "If he thinks he can talk to me by dancing-"

Susan laughed. "That's exactly what he thinks." She took a sip of her champagne. "He's a simple-minded creature."

Edmund and Lucy appeared behind them. "What's going on?" Lucy looked up at her with big eyes. "Are you okay, Y/N/N?"

She nodded, smiling gently down at the young girl. "I'm fine, Lu. Just tired, is all."

Edmund laughed, murmuring under his breath. "Tired of Peter, more like."

She glared at the young king. "Edmund-"

He hooked his arm through hers and pulled her away from his sisters for a moment. "You and I both know that my brother loves you. I don't think you should deny his declaration of love because you are scared of backlash."

She huffed. "Edmund, that's not why I denied his-"

Edmund rolled his eyes. "I can't imagine how difficult it is to be in your position, but I just want you to think with your heart for a moment and not with your head." He sighed. "You've been disconnected the past few years, and it's scaring us."

Her eyes watered again as she looked at her friend. "Ed-" 

He smiled. "It's alright. We've all been there, Y/N/N. Just don't leave us in the dark." He whispered to himself, but she heard him still. "Don't do what I did."