#mood : slightly optimistic

[fedonciadale]

The worst thing for me, personally, if Jonsa doesn't happen is that there are some genuinely nasty people, more than some, who will get what they want. Some of the antis are honestly the most horrible people I've encountered online. Did you see Hannah Murray's reaction to Jonsa last year? That's what convinced me it isn't happening. Trust me, I'd give anything to be wrong about that.

80% of me thinks it's happening but then I remember the disappointment I felt when S7 was released. I really believed those leaks were false and that it wouldn't happen but it was worse than expected. I don't wanna go into S8 expecting what I want and being devastated again.             

Dear nonny,

If you're sceptical, be sceptical! Protect your shippy heart. The joy might be even better. No one is obliged to be optimistic!

You know, I am fairly optimistic for the next season, but that's because I sort of expected (and dreaded) Jon€rys to happen since book two. When season 6 aired and I delved into shipping Jonsa and never looked back, because it makes so much sense, I hoped that maybe Jon€rys would not happen.

And then the leaks happened and I also desperately wished for them not to be true, not only because of Jon€rys but also because of the Winterhell plot and the stupid, stupid Wight Hunt - a piece of TV history best forgotten.

When the actual season aired, it became clear that the leaks were more or less accurate but that the execution still told a different story. So I was very glad about the Jonsa scenes that gave the vibes I hoped for and I chuckled at the Jon€rys scenes, because anything I had made up in my imagination was far more shippy and romantic than anything we saw on screen. From episode 3 onwards it was clear that we headed for bo@tbang and in a way I was glad that I was prepared for it. When it happened I laughed...

I'll never forgive D&D for the bad execution of the Winterhell plot, for having men who should be mortal enemies enter into a bromance within minutes and at the same time have Sansa and Arya have a cat fight over nothing - and not even doing us the courtesy of revealing when exactly Sansa and Arya banded up together (my guess is that they don't know themselves)...

So, even if Jon€rys turns out to be a romance - one that was executed far below the ability of writers, directors and actors, I would never be that mad as I am about Winterhell plot.

Anyway, since I sort of expected it (but hoped it would not happen and hope dies last as we say here) and even talked myself into clinging to that hope, I still knew that season 7 was not the last word.

And under the assumption that book and show end the same Jonsa is a very valid theory, a theory that also has evidence from the visuals of the show. So I am confident because I think the book evidence, once you actually look for it, is overwhelming.

As for actors interviews, I simply think that these are very thin evidence. I mean it is fun to speculate what Kit meant when he said that Jon has learned to manipulate people or what NCW meant when he said he is satisfied with the ending and it's fun to interprete these in our favour, the same Jon€rys shippers do when they interprete Hanna Murray's face in their favour or Kit's remark about the 'not so secret lovers'.

But ultimately these are people who make their money by impersonating other people. And while I do think that a good interviewer might manage to get out some of the real persona, I would say that most of the time these people act. That is their fucking job. And now imagine being an actor and knowing about a plot twist that should remain secret... I would prepare in advance to train a reaction that does not give anything away.

As for the anti Jonsas, yes there are some people who really are unhinged, and I really hate that they go against the shippers and not the ship, that many of the big blogs do not try to contain fandom wank, that a (shy) Jon€rys shipper came into my ask box to tell me they think that the foolery that happened was uncalled for and admitted that they do not dare to speak up about this in their own fandom...

So... as for Karma some (not all!) certainly collected lots of bad Karma... But being a middle aged person I know that Karma works in tricky ways... So that argument is invalid.

I believe in GRRM though. He wrote this story, not D&D, not the Jon€rys shippers with their headcanons that were nowhere to be seen on screen. And whatever happens, there will be no Targ restoration and Jon€rys as a ship will burn. Even back in the days of book two when I thought it was inevitable and dreaded it I knew it would not have a good ending.

Thanks for the ask!

[honeycombstrawberry]

Bless you for all the amazing writing bc we are ALL hypnotized by Adrian Chase.

I know any Dom Adrian you write will be amazing. Like why is he so sweet and sometimes awkward and fumbling and everyone laughs at dorky Vigilante, but you KNOW behind closed doors he's IN CHARGE and he knows exactly what he's doing you.

behind closed doors

pairing: adrian chase x reader (gn pronouns, has a vagina)

rating: e+

word count: 4,829

one-sentence synopsis: adrian is riding an adrenaline high when he comes home from a successful mission, and makes sure you ride that high right along with him.

author's note: okay i was expecting to write something that was more slap-me-around dom and this ended up being more tender-control dom but hey!!! whatever happens happens!!!! i hope you guys still like this!!!!!!!

warnings: choking, edgeplay, dom/sub, marking, explicit sexual content, rope bondage

read on ao3!

People don’t always realize that Vigilante isn’t entirely a put-upon persona.

There’s a lot of who Adrian already is layered into who he is as Vigilante. You know that some heroes create entire separate alter egos to keep their superhero life separate from their regular life, but Adrian’s too authentic for something like that. He’s always so genuine, both in the mask and out; it’d be impossible for him to ever be somebody he’s not. Not completely, anyways.

So, yeah, Adrian can be a real fun guy a lot of the time. He’s silly, and he likes to joke around, and he generally approaches life with a light-hearted and optimistic air, hoping to get the most of it, dragging the best out of everything and everyone around him by sheer force of will. It’s part of why you love him so fucking much. He’s sweet, and he’s thoughtful, and he can be so fucking stupid sometimes, but— you wouldn’t have him any other way. Dorky, silly, ridiculous Adrian, who you love more than anything on this planet.

He’s also got a little more to him than that.

“Hey,” Adrian says, reaching down to cup your face in his hand. “Look up, look up at me.”

You lift your eyes to meet his above you. He strokes beneath your chin, the fabric of his glove rough against your skin. You exhale, and his thumb comes up to push into your bottom lip. His head tilts, the outline of his face just barely visible through the tight fabric of his dark mask, the red glare of his visor. He’s quiet for a moment, studying you.

He’d texted you earlier tonight high on adrenaline, telling you he was just coming off a successful mission with the rest of the 11th Street kids, wondering if he might be able to come around and see you.

You knew what that meant. You’d told him he could come over as soon as he wanted, and then you’d sat up, waiting for him, practically vibrating out of your skin. When the mood strikes Adrian like this, you always end up feeling— incredible. The way he dominates you, the way he forces you to submit to him, the way he takes care of you; it took some time to negotiate and communicate with him, to figure it all out, to work out the kinks— as it were— but you’ve never felt more satisfied than you do now. All the work was towards something. You’ve never had a partner you loved as much as you loved Adrian, in every way.

The sound of Adrian’s key scraping into the front door lock had snapped you back to attention. You’d waited patiently for him, until he was pushing his way into your bedroom, still fully dressed in his gear. There’d been a few tears and burnt patches through his armor, but you hadn’t had any time to evaluate him before he was coming to you, taking you by the hand, pulling you off the bed—

—And, now, you’re on your knees on the floor in front of him while you wait for his next move.

You can see the dark fabric of his mask move slightly as his lips part. There’s only a brief moment before he speaks again, his glove rasping over your skin.

“Fuck,” is all he says at first. He takes in a ragged breath, then pushes in closer. His eyes must be fixed on you through the red heat of his visor, but you can’t see them. All you can see is the breadth of the Vigilante suit above you, the spread of Adrian’s shoulders in his costume, every bit of him concealed in fabric more familiar than anything you own.

His hand traces up into your hair, the material of his glove catching on your hair as he wraps his fingers up in it. His hold is soft, at first, but it tightens as he draws closer to you. He uses that tight grip on your hair to tilt your head back, exposing the line of your throat. His other hand comes up to just barely brush up your throat, and you’re so tense with anticipation that your whole body shivers in response.

Adrian’s chin lifts slightly, his eyes moving upwards to your face again. His fingers drift along the edges of your jaw, watching your face start to flush pink in the lamplight. His grip holds you around the throat, loose at first, but— when he starts to constrict, his hold on you becoming tighter, you feel a flash of heat in your belly, and you can’t help the way your lips part.

“Oh, fuck,” Adrian breathes again, and then the dam breaks, and he’s just spilling words like a river rushing through you. “Look at you down there, fucking— Looking so good for me.”

“Yeah,” you agree. “For you.”

He makes a gut-punch sound of an exhale, and then he’s kneeling, drawing you back up to your feet so he can bodily lift you up. You wrap up around him on instinct, your legs around his waist, your arms around his neck; his hands grip the meat of your ass, so you bury your face in his throat to muffle the low noise you can’t help but make. The thick fabric of his suit swallows the sound instead.

Adrian throws you down on the bed, hard enough that you bounce once before you actually come to a stop. There’s hardly any time or space between you hitting the bed and Adrian climbing up over you, still in the full gear, pushing you down to pin you to the bed.

Outside of here, it doesn’t always feel like people take Adrian as seriously as they probably should. Just because he’s a silly dork, and not always necessarily the brightest bulb, he’s often overlooked.

When Adrian takes control, though, he takes control. He’s strong, and decisive, and firm, and he knows what he wants, and he goes after it. He’s intuitive, he’s direct; he catalogs your responses and unabashedly asks you about them, pushes you, tries to figure out what works and why. He has a single-minded dedication to getting the things he cares about right that you’ve never seen in somebody before.

You count your lucky stars that he decides to apply this strength to the incredibly noble pursuit of pulling you to shreds, tearing you apart, working you until you have no choice but to fall to pieces under him.

“Please,” you breathe, unsure of what you’re even begging for, exactly. You don’t have any specifics in mind; all you know is you want him, more of him, all of him.

“Shh,” Adrian shushes you through his mask. He drops his head down to bury in your throat again, his gloved hand sliding up under your loose sleep shirt to brush up over your chest. His touch grows firmer when he finds your nipple, and your back arches, pushing you further into him.

Adrian pushes you back down flat, dragging his hand down your side to grip your hip instead. He evaluates you for a second, then kneels up on the bed, reaching for one of the pouches hooked onto his utility belt. You know exactly which pocket it is, and your heart is thrumming up into your throat even before you see the long spool of silver rope come spilling out.

His mask lifts, and Adrian looks to you, waiting for an all-clear. You tell him, “Yeah, okay,” and you don’t have to say anymore before he’s dropping the rope so he can drag you up the bed, fitting you against the pillows exactly where he wants you. You let him move you, willing to go where he wants you most to be, wanting him to take over, take control, make all the choices.

You look up to him, and you say, “Do anything you want. I know I can always tap out.”

The most frequently utilized pre-established safety measure, among other things like safe words, that the two of you use is the tap-out. Knocking three times is a signal for the other person to stop, no questions asked.

Adrian takes in your words and nods roughly, finding the rope in the sheets again. You purposefully don’t lift your hands, letting him take control to grip your left wrist in his hand and draw it up to the left post on your headboard. He winds the rope there to fix your wrist, his neat, expert knots that he works around you before wrapping them around the headboard to reach the other side. He ties up your right wrist, too, fixing them to each other, bound by the bedframe. You can wriggle, but you can’t get your arms back down.

His gloved fingers make quick work of the knots, tight enough that you can’t break free, expertly crafted so he can tug them free in a second if he has to.

“I should learn new types of knots,” Adrian muses while he strings your arms up above your head. His conversational tone is belied by the strain in his voice, the harsh snaps of his hands. “Who doesn’t love a challenge, right?”

He was already keyed up when he got here; he’s practically vibrating out of his skin with the desire to be in control of something, to take, and here you are, ready to be taken.

You nod, watching him hungrily as he pulls back again. He shifts to straddle your hips, the heft of him resting heavily in your lap. His hand draws down, tracing over your sleep shirt before he grips the fabric tight in his hand.

With one strong jerk of his fist, the buttons on your sleep shirt come tearing apart, and the fabric rips at the back. He tears the clothes off in tatters.

“Sorry,” he says. “Stupid of me, I should’ve taken ‘em off before tying you up.” His chest rises, falls, heaving with his breaths. His head tilts down, and he surveys you, still concealed behind his mask. “Look at you, huh? You make me feel like I’m going to lose my fucking mind, look at you.” He considers you, then asks, “What do I want?”

You’re not sure if it’s a rhetorical question or not, so you remain silent, staring up at him, waiting to hear exactly what it is he wants. He seems to hum to himself, looking you over, gloved hands touching everywhere.

Finally, he groans, and says, “Fuck, I need—” before he tears his gloves off of his hands. They’re tossed unceremoniously aside before his hands are gliding over your bare torso, skimming up your chest, coming to a stop when your nipples meet the curve of his palms. They pebble beneath his touch, and he drags a hand to work one with his fingers, your blood rushing hot beneath your skin. It’s like electricity surges up through your chest, down through your core, and you’re rattling apart.

“Oh, fuck,” you breathe.

“Yeah, you like that?” Adrian asks. His hips roll down into yours, fabric over fabric, but you can still feel the hard press of his groin. You can’t feel his cock, restricted by the cup in his armor, but you push up into him anyways, desperate for any kind of friction you can get.

Adrian pushes up from the bed for a moment, removing his touch entirely, and you can’t help but whine out loud, your body chasing after his until you’re trapped backwards by your arms.

He climbs up to stand beside the bed, reaching back for a blade in a different pouch on his belt. This, he sets aside on the bedside table, just out of reach. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your sleep shorts, then pulls them down with your underwear, sliding them smoothly off and sending them to join the rest of the shit on the floor.

“There we go,” he says, when you’ve got nothing on but the rope around your wrists, and he has everything on but his gloves to free his hands. “You like that?”

You nod jerkily, desperate for him to come back to you.

He must know that, somehow, because he doesn’t return right away. Instead, he slowly walks around the bed, pausing to linger at the foot of it, looking you over from that angle.

There, he reaches down to unfasten his utility belt. Your breathing speeds up, your heart pounding faster as you watch him reach beneath the armor to separate his pants. There are so many layers that it’s not easy, but he manages to get his hand down the front so he can grip his own cock. You can’t see it, but you can watch the rhythm of his arm as he moves, starting to stroke himself.

“Fuck,” he spits again. His breathing is heavy, hot and panting, open-mouthed against the fabric of his mask. He reaches up with the hand not wrapped around his dick, finally tearing the mask off over his head, tossing it up onto the bed. It lands against your side, the solid material of the helmet top coming to a soft stop at your hip. Even just that little touch is overwhelming when you want so much more friction than just that barest brush.

Your eyes fly up from the abandoned mask to Adrian’s face as he scrambles to shove his glasses onto his face, desperate to see you.

“Look at you,” Adrian says again. “All fucking laid out for me. Looking like a three-course— Four-course? I don’t know, whichever is the fanciest amount of courses, just— You look— I want to fucking eat you.”

You inhale sharply, and Adrian takes advantage of the spike in your system to climb up over the end of the bed. He pushes up until he’s kneeling up high over your thighs. He releases his cock so he can reach up to unfasten the closure at the back of his neck instead, drawing the chest piece of his armor off. With that discarded, it’s easier for him to shove his uniform pants open and down, finally, finally freeing his cock from the confines of the costume.

“All I could think about while I was gone was you,” he tells you. “I thought about you all the fucking time. I couldn’t get through two fucking minutes without getting hard wanting to come back to you. You make me feel fucking insane, I want to just—” He makes a frustrated noise. “I want to fucking just—”

He comes down to settle properly on your hips, his cock in one hand. He reaches down, bowing over you to wrap his other hand around your throat again, his hot thumb stroking the line of your jaw, the hinge of it.

His grip tightens, and you feel the pressure of air cutting off in your throat, just a bit. Heat rushes through you, a pulse coursing between your legs, thighs pressing in close on either side of him instinctively. He rolls his hips down, and you grind up automatically, trying to push in closer—

—But Adrian reaches down, quick as a flash, takes your hip in his hand and shoves you bodily back down.

“Stay,” he orders you. His hand streaks across your belly, up to your chest, flat against your sternum between your nipples. For a moment, he just seems to pause and feel your heart beat, racing underneath his palm.

Your throat is dry, and you lick your lips. He drops down, his hand gliding up further, drawing so close that his hard cock presses between you, caught between your heated skin and his torn uniform pieces. His hips roll into you again, and you have to fight to remain still, to stay like he’s told you to stay.

The push of his cock and hips, his body pressing tight into yours, is giving you some of the friction you need. Your heart is in your throat, and your arms strain as you pull down towards him, unable to touch him like your body wants so badly.

He reaches down, slipping up the sleeve of his suit, pushing it up past his wrist. Between you, he reaches with his middle finger to lightly press to your entrance. His breath punches out.

“Oh, fuck, you’re so wet,” he says, hunger gnawing through his voice. “Oh, fuck. I want to just—” He whines, almost, a rough sound that tears up out of him. “I want to take you apart, I want to— I want everyone to know—”

He slips in the tips of two fingers, spreading your lips, starting to push so slowly, torturously slowly, into your entrance. Your walls are tight around him, warm, welcoming; you can’t stop your body clenching around him, wanting more of him, as much of him as you can get. You writhe, and he uses his bulk to pin you down in place, holding you fast there.

Adrian’s thumb reaches up to brush over your clit, pushing back and up until the pad of his thumb rubs directly over it. Sparks shoot up your body now that he’s finally touching you where you want it the most, and it feels like you’re finally about to get relief.

You’ve got another thing coming, though, if you think Adrian is going to go easy on you, or let this be over quickly. He takes his sweet fucking time slowly slipping his fingers in to the next knuckle, then the next, deeper and deeper until he can’t go any further, his hand caught against your body, long fingers tucked deep inside.

He twists his wrist, strokes the insides of your walls, brushing your velvet heat. He keeps up that pounding, arhythmic circling of your clit, dragging you nearer and nearer to your edge. The combination of his long, thick fingers inside you and the constant, vibrating pressure of his thumb as he works you with his hand has you rising to the edge, and you gasp out his name, chest heaving, breaths coming fast.

It seems like, just— just— as you’re about to cum, Adrian quickly withdraws his hand. You cry out without meaning to, devastated by the loss, the emptiness that suddenly seizes you.

“I’m not done with you yet,” Adrian informs you. He takes your hip in his hand, hauls you in closer until your hips are flush, his cock like a burning brand, hard and flushed against you, impossibly heated.

He reaches between you to line his cock up with your entrance. With sweat slicking his hair back in twisting curls, some of them falling into his eyes, he studies you, evaluating you, taking stock of the two of you together. His bright eyes stay fixed on your face for a moment before he looks down instead, watching his cock disappear into your body.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he breathes out. “Oh, fuck, I— You’re— You are mine, all I want you to ever do is just— Lay here and take my cock. Fucking look at you, letting me fuck you open, letting me— Letting me just—” He growls, drops his teeth down to sink in your throat. The shift in angle pushes him in until your hips meet, flush together, and your chest is heaving, heart slamming into your ribs.

Adrian keeps careful stock of you, cataloging every movement, every breath, every heartbeat, everything. He threads his hand through your hair, grips the back of your head hard to hold you in place, meeting your eyes, locking onto you.

With his eyes fixed on yours, unwilling to break the contact when he’s initiated it so firmly, he fucks into you once, an experimental thrust to test the angle, the sensation— and your insides explode.

You cry out without meaning to, a broken noise falling from your lips before Adrian ducks down to silence you, his mouth working as much as it does when he’s talking, biting and licking and kissing you like he’s drowning and needs your air to survive.

His kisses deepen, further and further, while he starts fucking you in earnest. The orgasm he just stopped you from having is roiling underneath your skin, drawing you taut, feeling like it’s buzzing so close to the surface but you just can’t manage to drag it up and out. Adrian uses his teeth and his hands and his fucking cock to shred your mind, to edge you until you’re half out of your mind with madness and want and the aching desire to just release.

Adrian is wild above you, finally losing the thread of his domination as he falls into you. He takes you, and commands the motions of your body, and claims what he wants. You can feel the surging passion and wild chaos inside of him, tearing its way out, roaring through his body and into you.

The mission he was on has left him shaking, success and adrenaline coursing through him, and he brings all that to you. All his power, all his madness, all his strength, all his thrill, bursting out of him to you.

He falls apart, tells you, “Fuck, I love you— I fucking— Fuck—”

His words become nonsense, praises of your body and forceful reminders of whom, exactly, you belong to and promises of love and worship. He takes what’s his, claims it, and you can’t help the thought that comes into your mind: the idea that this would be so fucking hot if he did it on a mission, if he took you with him and you saw him in his element and then you were right there for him to take as soon as he was done—

That thought has you nearing your edge rapidly, faster and closer than ever before. Adrian’s determined to keep edging you, but you don’t know if your body will even allow it anymore.

You look up to fix on Adrian’s face, and find he’s already staring at you. You don’t even need to speak; he can see it in your face without words, and he says, “You want me to let you cum now? You think you’re ready?”

You nod jerkily, and his hand slides up your arm, wrapping around your wrist where it’s bound to the headboard. His other hand comes up to reach under your thigh, fingers digging into the flesh as he draws your leg further up to deepen his angle, pounding into you relentlessly.

“Adrian,” you gasp out, and he groans, desperate and low and rough. You say, “Fuck, Adrian, all I want is you—” but it’s all you can manage to say to him before he’s finding your mouth again, sealing you in a bruising, biting kiss.

When Adrian lifts his head— just barely, his lips still brushing yours when he speaks— he says, “Because you’re fucking mine.”

Your orgasm sparks, just so fucking close, and on the next roll of his hips, a dirty grind that has your clit pushing into the hard lines of his body, you’re falling apart. You can’t stop gasping his name into his mouth until he starts kissing you again, sloppy and open-mouthed and wet, his own rhythm only speeding up, losing his rhythm completely.

Your whole body is exploding inside, it feels like, heat washing through you in coursing waves as your mind whites out and all you can think about is Adrian, Adrian, Adrian. You swallow roughly, feeling the bruises of his hand where he’d gripped your throat. You know you’ll have marks all over later, the shapes of his hands and fingers where he’s held you too hard, and still not hard enough, on your throat and your hips and your waist and your thighs, everywhere, all over.

Adrian’s mouth finds the pulse point in your throat, teeth sinking into your flesh as his hips snap and he finally finds his own release. He shakes against you, his body stiffening, his mouth opening as he gasps out half of your name, the rest of it buried in your flesh. He’s left a brutal mark on your throat, and you can feel it throbbing in time with your cunt. It almost makes you feel like you could go again any moment now.

Above you, though, Adrian is catching his breath, buried in you. His weight is heavy, but you welcome it, melting and warmed and delighted by the bulk of him resting on your body. It’s satisfying to be pinned down like this, especially after you’ve cum, and you relax into it.

When Adrian finally shifts, sitting up so he can examine your face, you can see sweat drip from the edge of his jaw down to your sternum. He reaches out to cup your cheek, then kisses you softly, so much gentler than he’d just been.

“How are you?” he asks, and you nod.

“Good,” you say, voice rasping. He kisses the corner of your mouth, then takes your hip in his hand so he can carefully, slowly pull out of you. You can feel the flood of his release inside of you as it moves, starting to dribble out of you. You shift on the covers, tilting your hips, enjoying the rush of the feeling.

“Here we go,” Adrian says. He’s shifted again, coming off his high and starting to switch into his aftercare mode.

Adrian reaches for the bedside table and snatches up his knife. He doesn’t hesitate, slashing out at the ropes binding you, freeing your arms all at once. He takes your shoulders in his hands, slowly rubs at the muscles of them, working the blood and feeling back through them as he folds them closer to your chest.

“Okay,” he says, his thumb rubbing over the fine bones in the back of one of your hands. “I’ll be right back, alright?”

“Mmkay,” you murmur. Adrian ducks to kiss you on the forehead before he stands again. There are friction marks all over you from the scratching push and pull of his Vigilante suit, but he finally shucks off the last of it now, discarding the tattered uniform with the rest of the clothes on the floor.

As promised, he’s only gone a moment, slipping from the room and returning within a minute with a warm, wet washcloth. He climbs back up onto the bed beside you, kneeling gently. He starts between your thighs, cleaning you of the dirt from his suit, the sweat from your bodies, the slick evidence of both your releases. His steady hand works the warm washcloth over your body in even swipes, cleaning you with tender attention, making sure he doesn’t miss a square inch of you.

He swipes along the back of your neck, along your chest, cleans you until you’re comfortable again, warm and dozing in the sheets. With a kiss to your cheek, he leaves for only a second, coming back to your bedroom quickly with two glasses of water.

Adrian all but leaps into bed, discarding his glasses on your side table. Once you’re in his arms, he works the loosened ropes free of your wrists, tugging the remaining knots loose. You’re finally cleaned and comforted and stripped, held tight in his arms. You don’t think you ever feel so satisfied as you do when the two of you are like this. He may be dominating you, but he’s doing it in all ways; everything he does is to care for you, just in different ways.

“I love you,” you tell him, bleary, overwhelmed with the emotion.

“I can’t even begin to tell you how much I love you, too,” Adrian replies with easy affection. “I just want to— I want to, like— I don’t know, I just want to, like, morph with you and have one body and just, like, melt together and be together all the time.”

It’s such a weird fucking thing to say, but you know exactly what he means, because you feel the same way. You kiss his chest, and he tightens his grip on you, burying his face in your hair.

“Thank you,” he says, and you’re not sure what for, but you feel his words down to your bones all the same.

“Thank you,” you murmur back. You can feel the upturning twist of his smile against the top of your head before he kisses you again. “Maybe I can come with you next time.”

Adrian’s smile widens into a grin, and he tells you, “Go ahead and make my wettest dreams come true, why don’t you?”

You huff a laugh into his chest. He starts stroking his hands through your hair, down your back, and you’re soothed, comforted, down into the deepest parts of you, into your core, your nameless inside self. You wonder if, when you do go on a mission, whether or not you might be able to negotiate an ever rougher edge next time.

-

adrian chase taglist:

@violetrainbow412-blog @bigassbisaster @amysuemc @sunflowerfive @papitas-con-sal @saturnngal @neptuneswritingwork @jewishdelis @myguiltypleasures21 @pinkygunslingy @violinchick @r3tr0sp3ct @chaseadrian @breathing-in-waves @rishlurh @x-milf-hunter-x @goblynnrockz @theowritesstuff @jaysfav

[nariul]

The End. The Narrator (PLEASE read the desc for Narrator headcanons-)

The Narrator can form his physical body to anything he wants, whether that be just showing his ‘hands’, head, or a mix of both, or more. He can be existing and he can be non-existing to Stanley’s and the Players eyes.

Now, I want this to be almost as canon as possible, so the reason why you mostly can’t see The Narrator is because YOU apparently are the Player; using Stanley as a vessel so that you may be connected to the Parable, but are unable to fully see the Narrator because well, his purpose isn’t to be with you in person, it’s to Narrate.

STANLEY, on the other hand, can, and is most likely shocked by this. (Will go in depth with this but it’s The Narrator headcanons.)

The Narrator can fully form his physical body non-existant or not, but that doesn’t mean it goes smoothly, as he tends to fall astray with stronger emotions like anger, sadness or irritation, making him slightly visible, but he quickly notices and vanish. When fully depressed he wouldn’t even notice. Again, the Player can’t even see this in play, only Stanley can.

We all know that The Narrator is such a drama queen, sensitive to any critism, so I’m not gonna add anything for his personality, since it’s, it’s complicated as HELL. The man has mood swings! /j

It could be true that The Narrator could be just a highly intelligent AI mixed with being a drama queen (Probably is). Don’t want to be selfish, but where’s the spice in that? (no offense!) I still want to show atleast signs of life for the Narrator, so for me he IS AI, but then represses the thought of being fiction and existential dread, and that well, made him sort of get out of his Artificial like codings and become more optimistic, perhaps, it’s complicated.

His relationship towards Stanley is also indeed, complicated, but one thing’s clear; they seem to always want to try to be more in control than the other, Stanley planning cautiously about his choices to oppose The Narrator while The Narrator obviously shows that he attempts to completely control Stanley to his story by manipulating him. Of course, they never seem to go too far. Yes, each might have their victory but it’s never enough to satisfy them both truly enough. It hasn’t come to their minds that they NEED each other, they’ll see soon enough. I would say that their relationship is perhaps denial, like they don’t want to hear each other out, for now.

Time has and probably will make the two minds deteriorate slowly, but has that ever affected them? Who knows how long it’s been for the two, now having to change their perspectives on one another, and what would happen if they really could reach their end? Because here, the end is never

[make-me-imagine]

Moments In Time

Trope: Angry/Mean One is in love with the Happy/Sunshine One Plot: A collection of moments in time, showing the opposite sides of Bucky and Y/n, and how opposites attract in the best way possible.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x GN!Reader

Warnings: Brief mentions of violence/fighting, blood. Nothing in detail.

Words: 1.8k

General Taglist: @criminaly-supernatural, @caswinchester2000, @imaginesfire, @rexit-mo Bucky and Marvel Taglists: @cosplayingwitch, @trashywritestrash, @resplendentlady, @marvelouslyme96, @supersourlemon13, @mochamoff, @simsiddy, @peter-parkers-cullen-nerd, @flourishandblotts-inc

*Honestly could not think of a good plot for this trope, and didn't have much motivation while writing it, so this is all I could really come up with.

-

"I don't get how you can be so optimistic still." Bucky grumbled as he pulled open the door to the hotel.

You shrugged slightly as you looked over at him from your shoulder, water droplets falling down your face. "I like the rain."

"Even after our car gets destroyed and we have to walk two miles through it to get to civilization?"

You smiled at him. "Yep, even after that."

Bucky rolled his eyes as you turned to the woman at the front desk, but he felt a smile tug at his lips as he thought about how much of a good mood you were still in. He envied it sometimes. How you could see the good in anything, no matter how bad the situation.

"Oh dear, you two certainly got stuck in the storm didn't you." The older woman at the desk looked over the two of you with concern. "No luggage?"

You shook your head, "Nope, just got lost in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Ah, I see. Well we have nice hot water, so you can get warmed up. Let me get you a room."

"Two if you have them. Or a double room." You said politely and the women looked between the two of you.

"Oh, I apologize, I assumed you were a couple."

You glanced at Buck quickly, before taking a key from the woman. Bucky took his key as well, thanking her, before the two of you made your way to the elevators.

Bucky couldn't help the thoughts that ran through his head as you made your way into the elevators. If that woman assumed you were a couple, how many others did? Bucky felt the back of his neck burning as he looked over at you, almost ashamed at how much he had hoped you were a couple.

When the elevator opened, you hopped out to go to your room. Before the door closed, you spun around and met Bucky's eyes. "After we get warm and dry wanna get something to eat together?"

Your eyes were shining, still energetic and happy after the long exhausting day the two of you had. The perfect opposite of Bucky's tired, dark eyes. Bucky smiled softly and nodded his head. "Sure. See you then."

As the elevator door slid shut, Bucky could still see your smiling face in his mind. 'Maybe one day' he thought to himself.

- - - - - - - -

"I told you we didn't need a plan." Sam said a bit smugly as he started to remove his armor.

Bucky let out a huff of air through his nose as he looked over at Sam. "It would have went smoother if we did."

"Well there's no point in thinking about it now is there?" Sam watched as Bucky shook his head in annoyance. Sam smiled a bit to himself before commenting "Ya know, even though I'm glad you and Y/n are together now, I cannot get over how two people that are so completely different can be so perfect together. I would have hoped Y/n's bubbly personality and softness would have rubbed off on you by now."

Bucky looked over at Sam, ready to retort, but stopped short when the door swung open. As you walked swiftly into the room Sam raised his arms up, "Ah, speak of the devil."

"You talking about me Sam?" You asked with an amused tone.

He smiled at you. "I was just wondering how it is you can deal with this guy over here. Always in a bad mood, always mumbling, always grumbling. You're more patient than I could ever be."

You smiled at Sam before looking over at Bucky, seeing him avoiding your gaze. "I don't know Sam. You'd be surprised at the sides of him you don't see." Bucky glanced over at you and you looked back at Sam. "And maybe if you would stop running head first into fights without a plan, he wouldn't be so grumpy."

Sam opened his mouth in subtle offense as Bucky looked over at him. "See?"

Sam flapped his hands at you, letting out a "pssh" in response. "Maybe you two do have more in common than I thought."

You chuckled as you walked over to Bucky, brushing your finger lightly over a cut on his chin. He met your eyes, his soft gaze telling you he was alright.

Bucky often thought that you weren't suited for him. That he wasn't good enough for you. But he knew that no matter if he wasn't good enough he could never get himself to give you up. Not when you looked at him like that.

- - - - - - - -

Bucky had a reputation for being stoic, disgruntled, maybe even angry. Mostly because people tended to get on his bad side, or drug him into situations he wanted nothing to do with.

But sometimes, when no one else was around, and he was comfortable, he was the perfect opposite.

Soft, gentle, caring, romantic.

The way he would carry you to bed if you were too tired to make it. The long tight hugs from behind when he would shove his head into the crook of your neck.

The way he would gently clean and wrap your wounds when you got hurt. Or the soft voice he would use when you didn't feel good, or were having a bad day.

When he would bring you flowers, or your favorite movie to cheer you up or make you smile. Show you his favorite songs or movies. Dance with you in the living room, chest to chest.

These were the moments you held between the two of you. These were the parts of him he showed you and almost no one else.

So no matter how many times people pointed out the "bad" parts. The anger, the bad moods, the pessimistic thoughts. You knew that was not everything he was. And even if it was, you knew that you would still love him. Because he was him.

- - - - - - - -

Just as Bucky had his soft and happy sides that many did not see. You had your rough edges and inner anger.

You were always afraid people would look at you differently if they ever saw this side. You were afraid, that they would be afraid.

But Bucky did not see this as a weakness, he saw it as a strength. One, that when when utilized could save anyone in need. He was surprised at the hidden anger, the hidden power beneath the surface, but he was never afraid.

When someone was in danger, you were always there. To fight as hard as you could to save them. Whether that left you with blood on your hands, a wound to your body, or a weapon used, you were prepared if it meant saving the innocent.

This side did not come out often, but when it did, you were often left exhausted. Bucky told you it was the rain after the storm. To go with it, let it take you. To remind you of the toll, so you don't lose control of it.

He was never afraid of it. Never afraid you were some bomb ready to go off like some had said before. He saw the bright happiness and beauty in every part of you. And to him, that underlying darkness, that storm, was just as beautiful as the rest.

- - - - - - - -

Bucky hated it. Hated the intrusive thoughts, the ideas that you would be happier with someone else. Even with him. You smiled at him, laughed at his jokes. You were both happy on the outside, people didn't stare, or wonder why you would be together. Maybe it would be better for you this way.

Bucky shook himself from his thoughts as you came over to him, leaving the man behind. Bucky turned and began to walk with you to leave together.

You saw the way Bucky shoved his thoughts away, the subtle changed in his face as he smiled at you. Something was wrong, and he was hiding it. He had been hiding it for some time now, and enough was enough.

As soon as you got to Buck's apartment, you cornered him. "Are you gonna tell me what's going on, or do I have to get it out of you the hard way?"

Bucky blinked, silent as he stared at you. "What?" He finally asked, dumbfounded by the sudden interrogation.

"I can tell something has been going on Bucky. You've been a lot quieter recently, not telling me anything, something is clearly bothering you, that you haven't told me about, which makes me think it is me that's wrong."

"What? No. You've done nothing." Bucks voice was soft, but defensive. He stepped forward, placing his hands on your shoulders.

"Then what is it that you can't tell me, or talk to me about? I mean, did something happen? Have you been getting nightmares again, what?"

Bucky was alarmed at the near panic in your eyes as you spoke. He sighed, hanging his head for a minute. "Nothing happened, not like that at least. I just...I can't help but think.."

"What?" You asked softly when he didn't continue.

"I just-" he sighed as he stepped away from you, turning around. "The more often I see you with that guy at work. The way you smile and laugh with him. I-I can't help these thoughts that take over. Telling me that you would be happier with someone else. I mean, I'm-" He turned back to you as he gestured vaguely at himself. "I'm, well, me."

"Which is exactly why I love you." You said with mild exasperation, walking up to him, you placed your hands on his chest. "Bucky, do you not see how you are with people? You may come off stand offish at times, but people like you. You are blunt, but honest. You are kind, even through the grumbling. You make friends with some of the softest people. I laugh and smile with you all the time. Are you telling me that you don't see that anymore? Or is it that you never have?"

Bucky squinted as he thought about what you were saying. You were right. He wasn't as closed off as he used to be, it's not as hard for him to be himself around others, or even strangers. But he still thinks of himself as that person.

"I-I guess not, I just...don't you want me to be...more?"

You smiled sadly at him as you brought your hands to his face. "I want you exactly as you are Bucky."

He smiled at you, bringing up his hand, he gently brushed his fingers down your cheek. "I guess I just got in my own head."

"Yeah. You do that sometimes."

He let out a soft chuckle as he leaned closer, pressing his forehead against yours. "I love you, you know that."

"Of course I do. And I love you. Always will."

xx End xx

[scarthefangirl]

Can you stop?

mama!nat x daughter!reader

Request: I'd like to request a Natasha x teen daughter reader were she is like this clingy nice kind talkative person and for some reason natasha starts getting annoyed by reader and hanging on with an other teen and actually yells at reader telling her these rude things and reader is no longer this talkative person and doesn't laugh anymore and natasha starts missing her old self and tries to get her old daughter back.

Warnings: Crying, rambling, bubbly reader, alcohol mentioned, drunkenness (briefly), sadness, loosing yourself, not proof read, rushed ending, (lmk if I missed any)

A/N: I changed the request slightly (Nat doesn't hang out with another teen, sorry) but I tried to keep it true to the request!! (Also that play is not actually four hours I just you know I yeah)

Word count: 2005

Y/N's mother was always right there for her, she always cared about Y/N and loved Y/N. She put her first above everyone in the world. But teenage years are hard for everyone. Sometimes parents get exhausted. Kids misbehave or get moody.

Y/N had her moments, sure, but she is a great girl. She always smiles and shares a positive attitude. She is optimistic and peppy and gives off bright vibes. Y/N is always there for any avenger, or anyone in general, and she is always trying to help people.

Natasha completely adores Y/N and is so proud to be her mother. But sometimes Y/N can be a lot for Nat to handle alone. It doesn't mean she doesn't love Y/N, she truly does, but even she gets tired.

This week was one of those weeks for Nat.

Y/N was being her usual perky self, so happy and energetic. She is heading down for breakfast, starving. She changes into a simple outfit, a t-shirt and jeans. Y/N sits next to her mother, planting her plate beside Nat's. Natasha gives her a pity smile and continues chewing her eggs. Y/N thinks nothing of it and digs into her bowl of cereal.

"Any plans for today mom?" Y/N asks before waving Wanda over to their table. Natasha shakes her head and turns the page in the newspaper she was reading.

"Maybe we could go watch my friend Katie in her school play! She is really excited and is begging me to go. It is about something odd, two authors combining a bunch of grim's fairy tales PR something. I never really read fairytales you know? They seem so fake. And besides your telling me some prince is going to kiss a dead fifteen year old chick? I don't think so. And everyone hunting the beast in-" Y/N's rambling is cut off by her mother's voice.

"Your point Y/N?" Natasha groans in an annoyed tone. Y/N looks at her bowl, feeling a bit embarrassed of her rambling patterns.

"Um, her show is at 2, I was hoping you would take me and maybe we could go together. It is a four hour show but it seems good. If you want of course, we don't have to. I just thought it might.." She catches herself ramble again and stops sheepishly. Nat sighs and nods.

"Its whatever we can go."

"T-thanks." An awkward silence over takes the meal, even Wanda feeling the tension. Y/N notices her mother's mood and decides everyone would feel better if she left. "I, um, I think I'm full."

"Okay, did we ask? You are old enough to leave the table alone. We don't need to hear about it Y/N." Natasha mutters angrily. Y/N gulps down the lump in her throat and stands up. She washes her dish off and puts it in the sink. The teenage girl heads to her room, placed beside her mothers. She lays on her bed and cries softly, feeling terrible for making her mother mad. Y/N was always a people pleaser, does things for everyone but her. She always acts and does things in a way she hopes will please the people around her. Natasha is someone who Y/N always tries to make happy. It hurts Y/N to see her mom so upset with her, all Y/N wants is to make Nat proud.

Y/N puts in her airpods and presses shuffle to her playlist. The first song to play is One More I Love You by Alex Warren. Y/N gets cozy in bed and drifts in and out of sleep.

~

Throughout the day Y/N subtly reminds Nat of their plan, only twice though. Natasha promises to pick up Y/N on her way back from the gym at 1:15 and then they could go. It is a long drive to the school so she has to get Y/N early. Y/N is very excited and Nat seems to be in a better mood.

Y/N waits by the door of the compound for her mom. 1:20, 1:30, 1:45, slowly the minutes ticked by. 1:50, 1:58, 2:00.

At 4:15 Y/N walks grimly back inside, mascara dried on her face. Y/N is upset and disappointed. But mainly she is kicking herself for even bringing it up. Her mom is so busy, of course she doesn't have time for this. What kind of jerk invites a busy avenger to a four hour play?! Y/N Romanoff does that's who.

Natasha and Carol Danvers walk into the compound around 11:30pm. Y/N is asleep on the couch and wakes up at the sound of laughter. She looks over at the kitchen where Nat and Carol have entered. They are holding drinks and are dressed fancy.

"Um, hey mom." Y/N walks into the kitchen. Nat nods upwards as if to say sup. "You said you were going to the gym."

"Plans changed." Natasha laughs throwing her arms in a W shape. She takes a long sip of her alcohol, as does Carol.

"You missed the play mama."

"Oops." She cracks up into laughter. Y/N feels tears burning her eyes but she pushes it down. "Maybe next time baby."

"Mom I am really upset. You promised. I waited for hours and you get back drunk and can't manage an apology. I, I really wanted tonight to go well. I miss hanging out with you. I have been making friends around town and I know I haven't been around much but I am missing you a ton. I thought maybe today would be the start of being together more. I-" Again Y/N is cut off by her mother,

"You need to shut up! You talk to much. Don't you know how to close that darn mouth of yours? You are always going on an on about Lord knows what. If your upset go cry in your room, I am so done hearing your voice constantly. You want friends? Shut up. No one wants to be around people with big mouths." Even though Natasha is drunk and doesn't mean it, Y/N is totally hurt. Her mother sees her that way? Her own mom? Natasha and Carol go out of the room, probably to get more to drink or something. Y/N sinks to the floor of the kitchen, sobbing uncontrollably.

~

Weeks passed and Y/N sunk into a depressive state. Natasha apologized for her attitude hundreds of times but Y/N was so hurt. She told Natasha that she forgives her but deep down the hurt was still there.

Y/N had always been insecure about being to talkative and to loud, and Natasha confirmed it all.

The whole team could tell Y/N was different. The whole mood went down without Y/N's positivity. Natasha feels awful, like she failed as a parent. And Y/N keeps telling herself people will love her more if she just stays silent. Thoughts run through her min such as just stay quiet, or, it isn't even funny so there is no point in saying it, or even, they don't care. They hate you. Y/N has to remind herself to shut up. She was so used to being the strong one emotionally, now she is letting all her bad emotions eat at her.

Today Y/N is laying on her bed and watching TV. Her door is open by a sliver until Sam pushes it open and stands in her doorway. He smiles at Y/N when she puts her attention to him.

"I heard this joke, wanna hear?" He asks. Y/N knows he is trying to make her feel better but it won't help.

"Fire away." She says emotionlessly. He nods before continuing.

"What is the difference between spinach and boogers?" There is an awkward pause before he finishes "Kids don't eat spinach!" He cackles. Y/N rolls her eyes at his attempt to be funny. Normally, Y/N would have laughed because he thought it was so funny. She loved it when people laughed at their own jokes, thinking it made the joke funnier.

"Good one, can you shut my door please?"

"Oh, um, yeah." Sam shuts the door, feelings hurt and confidence broken. Y/N hits play on the television and sinks into her bed. She hates making the team feel bad but she reminds herself that she is doing it for them and they would realize it soon. If she started talking again they would all remember how much they hate her.

The next person through the door is Wanda Maximoff. She doesn't say anything, she just lays in bed next to the teen. Her presence is comforting and makes Y/N feel better a bit. Eventually Wanda has to leave but the hours she spends everyday silently building trust with the girl will never be forgotten. Y/N will one day be grateful for Wanda and Sam and everyone on the Team, but she currently believes she is doing the right thing. She is hurting herself though.

Once more Y/N's room is invaded, this time by her mother. The young woman pretends to not notice her mom, hoping that her mom will leave her in peace. But clearly Natasha cannot read her daughters mind, as she decides to sit on the edge of the bed.

"Hey Y/N/N, whatya watchen?" Nat asks casually.

"Boy meets world." Y/N answers straightforwardly. She doesn't take her eyes off the TV, refusing to look at her mom. She really isn't mad at Nat, but she knows if she looks at Nat to long she will burst into tears. She wants to talk so bad, she wants to hug everyone she sees. But she also wants to tell her mom how she feels. Y/N hates herself.

Natasha must have noticed Y/N's lip trembling because she scoots further onto the bed, closer to the teen.

"Lets talk Y/N."

"There is nothing to talk about mama."

"Its been weeks. I've tried giving you space and time but I'm worried honey." Natasha starts, "I love you, and I miss your bubbly happy mood. You are sad and that makes me sad. I want you to be yourself. Its okay to be not okay. But I need you to talk to me. Maybe if we talk about how your feeling then you can feel more like yourself."

"You miss me?" Y/N asks curiously. She knows she shouldn't budge so easily but she does miss herself.

"Obviously! You are my favorite person in this whole world. You. And I understand I hurt you and for that I feel eternally sorry. Is there anything at all I can do to help you my love?"

"I hate myself." Y/N admits, tears in her eyes.

"What?!" Natasha shouts in surprise. She never expected that to come from the teenager who is the definition of yellow.

"I am to loud, I talk to much, I am selfish, I- I am better off to never speak." Y/N breaks. Maybe it was the fact that she missed Nat, or maybe she missed talking, but it was so easy to get her to spill. She was ready to talk to her mother.

They do talk, for awhile. The hours tick by as they swap feelings, experiences, and more. Y/N has a feeling she will be closer with her mom after today. They understand each other better now. Y/N feels better about herself, like she can be more of who she is. It will take time for Y/N to fully recover but this is a start.

They do talk, for awhile. The hours tick by as they swap feelings, experiences, and more. Y/N has a feeling she will be closer with her mom after today. They understand each other better now. Y/N feels better about herself, like she can be more of who she is. It will take time for Y/N to fully recover but this is a start. As time moves forward Y/N learns, with Nat's help, to love herself. And she helps Natasha move beyond her past and love herself.

After this night they definitely have a stronger bond then ever, so look at world; Natasha and Y/N are coming through.

~

Tags: // @themarvelprince // @misselsbells06 // @american-sataness // @cr0ssoverf4n4tic // @powerfultaylor // @blackwidow-3 //

[withloveajaxx]

black dahlia and peony for diluc <3 sorry

❁ prompt/s: "you left me like i was never a reason to stay" & "you always push people away. i just thought you'd never do it to me." + diluc

❁ warnings: angst (mentions of diluc leaving n being emotionally repressed ig)

❁ summary: you don't know what went wrong in your relationship with diluc and you're tired of it.

❁ note: hello there tysm for requesting!! i am sososo sorry i got to this request late but i hope you enjoy this angst :"D have a great day, take care and please enjoy hehe <33

being diluc's significant other requires some sort of patience and understanding. given that diluc is typically more closed off than others, it takes a significant amount of time, trust, and effort for him to let out even a hint of emotions. 

you know that he's more repressed with his emotions, and yet you were still willing to try a relationship with him. you who was so empathetic and compassionate when confronting him, you who would give him all the time in the world to open up to you when he was ready. 

you thought he appreciated it, seeing as it worked for some time. diluc started being more affectionate around you at some point. he'd show signs of vulnerability and exhaustion, burying his head into your neck or your shoulder as his arms gently wrap around your waist. on rare occasions, he'd even invite you to sit on his lap as he basks in the warmth on your presence.

(more utc)

you thought it was getting better, that your relationship was improving bit by bit. those small signs of affection and love sparked hope and faith in you that you would both continue to be together. 

your thoughts were all optimistic and bright until the dark reality loomed over your relationship. you don't know what you had done wrong but diluc had started distancing himself from you. 

you could obviously tell something was wrong, but every time you'd ask, he'd dismiss you as if it was nothing. it no longer seemed like he yearned for the comfort in your touch, longed for the love and care you were always ready to treat him with. he was cold and closed off, nothing like the diluc you had known a few weeks prior. 

you wanted to confront him. you knew you needed to talk this out with him and figure out what the problem was. you were planning to do so if only the latter hadn't completely given up and left you alone at the winery for days on end. 

he was never home when you were, always working either at the tavern or doing his heroic duties. he was actively aboiding both you and the problem for quite some time now and your patience was wearing thin. 

the second you finally get a moment to speak to him, your voice is no longer coated with the sweetness it usually holds. what made your mood dampen was the fact that diluc didn't even look like he cared, his frown deep and face stoic like it had been for how long now. 

"do you want to explain why you're avoiding me?" there's no more beating around the bush as you narrow your eyes at the man who stands before you. a heavy silence envelopes the room as if diluc had either nothing to say or was thinking very carefully about his next words. 

"i've been busy with work," he answers blandly as if you couldn't tell he was lying. his answer was the last straw for you. he's ignored you, pushed you away, and had practically left you in the dark for weeks now. 

you were tired of putting in so much effort when diluc seemed like he didn't care. you've had enough. 

"you know, diluc, you always push people away." you chuckle bitterly and shake your head at how ridiculous the entire situation was. "i just thought you'd never do it to me." 

diluc continues to say nothing, fists balled by his sides as he stares you down. his vermillion eyes burn holes into your already tattered heart and it's in this moment where you decide to give him a taste of his own medicine. 

"you left me, diluc. you left me like i was never a reason to stay." your voice cracks slightly, vision blurring as various emotions threaten to overcome your entire being. "you left me in the dark for god knows how long at this point, and i am honestly sick and tired of it. i'm leaving." 

your words and the slam of the heavy wooden doors are the last things diluc hears before an unbearable silence fills the empty crevices of dawn winery. it's the very last thing his mind registers before the immense regret and guilt settles deep into every fibre in his body. 

you left. you were gone and he wasn't sure if he could get you back.

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© withloveajaxx 2022. please do not copy, plagarize, or translate in any way.

[sl-ut]

brutal

PROLOGUE

pairing: oc!alexander x reader (siblings), various x reader (platonic)

description: y/n and her brother get stuck on the highway on their way to find refuge in atlanta.

warnings: swearing, mentions of death, bombing

words: 1.3K

date posted: 27/02/22

next part

Y/n woke with a start, instantly repulsed by her sweaty flesh as it clung to the thin sweatshirt she wore. The prior night had not been kind to her, keeping her up for half of the night while an uneasy feeling settled over her, not to mention the blistering Georgian heat and lack of air conditioning.

She peeled the light cotton blanket from her body as she clambered out of the backseat of the car, grunting as she stretched her legs out and stepped onto the cooling pavement of the highway. Her senses were overwhelmed, distant cries and yells deafened her while her skin stung from the night air brushing her inflamed skin. Y/n pressed onward, turning the corner of the old Toyota to greet the others.

“Geez, someone clearly didn’t get enough beauty rest.”

“Shut up,” she muttered in a low, raspy tone.

“And in a good mood, I see.”

Y/n shrugged slightly as she perched against the front bumper, accepting the bottle of lukewarm water being offered by the older man and took a large gulp as he watched her, waiting for the eventual explanation she would provide.

“Didn’t sleep well, is all.” She sighed, “I just… I have a bad feeling, don’t know what about, though.”

“You heard the news,” Alexander shrugged. “They’re taking refugees in the city, and the CDC’s probably more than halfway to figuring out a cure for this thing. You’re gonna be on a plane back home in no time.”

“Well, when mass populations are becoming cannibals, I think it’s warranted that I’m a little bit nervous. Especially when we’ve been backed up on this stupid highway for literally hours.”

Alexander rolled his head backwards, “Relax. As bad as things are, stressing yourself out won’t change any of it.”

The girl rolled her eyes, “Yeah, I’ll stop stressing myself out when you start to take things a bit more seriously.”

Alexander pressed his palm to his chest and gasped dramatically, “Ex-ca-use me, miss, but I’ll have you know that I am taking this very seriously. I just prefer to stay optimistic about these things.”

“Oh yeah,” she smirked, “Then would you mind grabbing me a snack from the emergency kit that any responsible adult would have packed?”

Alexander frowned at her, “Shut up. How the hell was I supposed to know that this was gonna happen?”

She poked at his ribs, a genuine smile growing on her lips for the first time since the whole ordeal had begun, brows relaxing from their furrowed stature.

“I think there’s some liquorice in the glovebox.”

“I think I’ll pass.”

The deafening fluttering of a fleet of helicopters brought their attention to the sky, rushing in the direction of the very city that the siblings, as well as everyone else stranded on the highway, were hoping to find refuge in.

Alexander eyed his sister’s sudden alertness as distant gunshots became louder and louder, watching as the crease between her eyebrows reappeared, lips curling inwards over her teeth anxiously.

“Can I have some liquorice?” A small voice called, pulling both of their attention to the young boy perched on the ledge of the tailgate of the adjacent Jeep, “Well, is it red or black? Because I only like the red stuff.”

“Carl,” The woman next to him hissed, pinching his arm lightly before turning to Alexander, “I’m sorry, he doesn’t need any.”

Alexander waved her off as he moved around to reach into the glove box, “No, it’s completely alright. I’ve been trying to get rid of it, but this one just doesn’t like it.”

He offered the bag of Twizzlers to the young boy, then to the young girl sitting next to him. She nervously reached out and plucked a single piece of red candy from the package, thanking him quietly as she began to nibble on it.

“Thank you,” The small woman beside her spoke up in a meek tone, the ghost of a smile donning her face. “I’m Carol, this is Sophia.”

“My name is Alexander,” Y/n’s brother introduced, “This is my sister, Y/n.”

The other woman introduced herself as Lori, and the boy as her son Carl. A man appeared behind her, broad shoulders widening even further as he approached. His eyes raked over Alex’s tall frame, then moving onto Y/n, causing her to shift uncomfortably. His dark gaze ran over the entire length of her body, and though he was conventionally attractive, she felt a shudder take over her entire being.

“Lori,” he tugged her aside, speaking to her quietly before stepping forward to extend her hand to the older Baldwin sibling, “How’s it going, man. Deputy Shane Walsh.”

Alexander shared a short glance with his sister, a small smirk growing on his lips at the man’s composure, shaking his hand cockily, “Alexander Y/l/n.”

“I’m gonna go up the road, see what I can see.” Shane huffed.

“I’ll come with you.” Lori turned to Carol, “Would you mind keeping an eye on Carl for a minute?”

“No,” the boy protested as he hopped off of the tailgate, taking a step towards his mother.

“Shane and I are just gonna go scout up ahead a little bit and see if we can find someone who knows what’s going on.”

“I wanna come with you.” He whined.

“Hey, we’re gonna be back before you know it, little man.”

Alexander turned to Carol, “I think I’d like to see too, watch out for her too, would you?”

“Of course.” Carol placed a hand on Y/n’s shoulder as the girl frowned, having scolded her older brother numerous times for treating her like a child in the past.

He jogged off after Shane and Lori, leaving Y/n to lean against the Cherokee awkwardly as she glanced between the two younger kids. She smiled tightly at Carl when he turned to eye her, wide eyes staring into her own, almost as if he were inspecting her.

“Your dad’s nice,” Sophia commented, glancing up at the brunette boy as they continued their card game.

“Shane’s not my dad,” Carl huffed, “My dad’s dead.”

Y/n glanced down at her tennis shoes, digging her toe into the pavement uncomfortably at his words, or more specifically, the way that he had spoken them. So cold and lifeless, like it had barely even affected him. Those very same words that she had yet to even speak in the years following her own father’s death. As she raised her stare, it was met with Carol’s look of concern. The woman appeared to be so genuinely kind, without a mean bone in her body.

"I like your bracelet,” Sophia hummed, poking at the green and brown braid that hugged the other girl’s wrist, “Did you make it?”

Y/n twisted the colourful bracelet between her fingers, “Yeah, my friend and I made them a lot when we were younger.”

“It’s pretty… Can you make me one?”

“Can I have one, too?” Carl added.

The girl snorted quietly, “Next time I have some thread, I’ll see what I can do.”

The earth shook suddenly, the sky lighting up with a warm orange glow. Terrified yells fill the air, nearly concealing the deafening booms in the distance, though the sound still managed to rumble Y/n’s eardrums. She instinctively placed a hand on Carl’s back as the young boy cowered closer to her, shaking in fear. Y/n couldn’t tell if the tremors that wracked her body came from the boy’s fear or her own.

“Y/n!” Alexander appeared at her side, lifting his hand to cradle the back of her head, Lori and Shane rounding the corner of the Cherokee to inspect their boy.

“We gotta go,” Shane announced, “Head back on the highway. I know a place where we can set up camp.”

“What about Atlanta?” Y/n hugged herself tightly, leaning back against her brother.

Shane stared deeply into her eyes, lifting his hand to wipe his mouth before his words escaped him in a low tone, face frighteningly stoic.

“Atlanta’s gone.”

MY WORK IS, UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCE, TO BE REPOSTED OR SHARED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION. I HAVE NEVER GIVEN CONSENT TO MY WORK BEING SHARED, SO IF YOU SEE ANOTHER ACCOUNT POSTING MY CONTENT PLS LET ME KNOW.

[genshinlover101]

Helo,it is okay if I ask angst for (Jean,Ganyu and Ayaka) where their S/O is a very cheerful and optimistic person . But one day they gone missing for about 4/5 years . Many people think their S/O is already dead,but they keep waiting for their S/O,ignore about what other people say .

One day,their S/O coming back and pretend nothing happen when they ask them. Beside that,their personality also change from a cheerful person to hot-headed/cold person. How did they react to their S/O drastic change ?

Her Reaction to Your Disappearance

Characters: Jean, Ganyu, Ayaka x gn!reader

Warnings: none

A/n: hihi, I think this concept is super cool ! 

I know I gave a lot of love in terms of length to Jean, but all these girls I feel have a similar personality, and I didn’t want to get repetitive so I hope this is okay <3

• The first month you went missing she would personally oversee all missions involved with your search. After that she knew as the Acting Grand Master she couldn’t afford to go looking for you because of her dedication to Mondstadt. Although, she never fully gave up hope regardless of how many people told her you were gone for good.

• When you suddenly reappeared in Mondstadt Jean couldn’t believe her eyes. She’d probably assume it was a miracle from Barbatos himself. She’d finally take a break from her duties and spend a full week with you. She’d first be concerned about your wellbeing, then about your whereabouts these past years, and finally her relationship with you.

• Jean noticed almost immediately the vast difference in your personality. She thought it was somewhat suspicious, and even though she didn’t want to pry into what happened, she’d have to find out eventually. If you still refused to tell her, she’d be forced to begrudgingly relocate you to another facility for the safety of Mondstadt.

You were transferred upon Jean’s orders to an abandoned cabin in Whispering Woods, that way you were outside of Mondstadt, but close enough to be watched. As much as she hated seeing you being treated this way, her loyalty to Mondstadt was much stronger, especially since you had been missing for the past five years.

You were snapped out of your trance when you heard a firm knock on the doors. “Come in,” you said, assuming it was your girlfriend. She had been visiting you during her spare time, even though she was suspicious of you it didn’t dismiss the fact that she loved you. She wiped her shoes on your ‘welcome’ rug and stopped a moment to analyze the inside of your small home. 

“This isn’t very flattering is it?” She asked with a sigh. You didn’t reply, only glancing at her. Your silence saddened her greatly, whatever broke your spirits or caused you to lose that glow you used to have must’ve been extremely traumatic. She almost felt like you were a completely different person, you looked the same, but it wasn’t the person Jean had fallen so hard for. “Say I’ll cook your favorite meal, will that brighten the mood in here?”

She began to make her way to the kitchen, dropping a bag of groceries on the counter. “See I even got the ingredients,” she took her jacket off and rolled up her sleeves, only to pause for a moment. “Wait a minute, is this even your favorite dish anymore? My apologies I hadn’t even thought about that till now,” She expected you to say something. Anything. 

Yet again nothing but silence, “I see...” Her tone was timid and you could tell she was giving up hope for you ever so slightly. “Whatever the case is I’m sure you’ll still fancy my cooking. When you were away I’d cook this meal whenever I missed you, I’ve even spiced things up to my liking. Give it a try, will you?” She smiled at you, but you could tell it was fake.

• When you first went missing Ganyu would wander Liyue aimlessly. There wasn’t even a lead on your location. As the Secretary of the Liyue Qixing, she only had to power to put up commissions for the adventures guild to find you. Eventually,  adventurers stopped taking them despite their hefty rewards, all because they pitied, convinced you were dead.

• When you suddenly reappeared people thought you were a ghost to haunt Liyue for giving up on you. But Ganyu knew you were very much alive, she managed to convince Ningguang and Keqing to pick up her shifts while she spent a week with you.

• However she could tell you weren’t necessarily the same person. Not only did your personality change, but whatever happened while you were missing was a complete mystery. However she was bound by contract to protect Liyue, she had to suspect you regardless of your obvious trauma.

Ganyu managed to convince the Liyue Qixing you weren’t a threat but did she believe that herself? She only had success because she said if you were to put Liyue in danger, she would take full responsibility. That meant if you were to be banished at that very moment, she too would follow you in exile. You were touched by Ganyu’s earnest loyalty to you, you remembered how much she cared for Liyue and for her to jeopardize centuries upon centuries of work for you?

You cooked Ganyu a warm whole-grained meal just how she liked it, five years ago at least. It was the least you could do for her after offering you her home. Regardless of having such a loving relationship before, things felt awkward between you two. “Ah- thank you,” Ganyu said shyly after you placed her plate down in front of her.

“You know it’s nice, when you left I was alone again, nobody in Liyue even bothered to look my way.” She fiddled with her food, her fork circling a specific bite she isolated. “But now I can eat nice warm meals with you like before,” she smiled.

You didn’t smile back, you couldn’t. After your return, everything just felt wrong. Like something was out of place or something, your reuniting with everyone from the past didn’t suddenly cure anything. But at least you had Ganyu, you just wished you could give her an explanation for your change in behavior. “Right,” you said still agreeing anyway to not cause any further problems for Ganyu.

“You know if something is the matter you can tell me right?” She said. Although she was such a timid girl from your memory, she matured a lot since you last saw her. “I don’t want our prior distance to become a problem. Even though the others can’t trust you, I’ll always be on your side,” she reached for your hand across the table, giving you a hopeful smile.

• It was easier for Ayaka to go searching for you, she had Ayato to support her and take up extra work so that she could find you. It wasn’t any problem as he thought you suited Ayaka very well. However, after a month, he grew tired and forced Ayaka to take responsibility and accept your death.

• When you magically reappeared in the Kamisato Estate everyone thought it was some cruel prank. Including Ayaka, she was almost in denial that you were alive after five years of separation. She would take another break in order to confirm that you were indeed standing in front of her.

• It didn’t take a rocket scientist to tell you were a different person. Maybe not physically, but emotionally and mentally you were completely different. She still tried to love you, she couldn’t just let you go after getting what she’s wanted for so long.

Ayaka held your hand tightly as she walked with you through Chinju Forest, explaining everything that had changed over the years. “You know Ayato looked for you too when I was busy, we all really missed you. But because of the other tri-commissions, they forced us to drop the case...” She grew somber. “I wanted to apologize for that,” her hand gripping even tighter than before.

You could tell Ayaka was very passionate about you even after the years of distance. You knew she had issues ever since her parents passed away, and to lose you too was probably traumatic for her, “I’m sorry,” you said. Although there was no emotion behind it, Ayaka could tell you meant it.

“No no it’s not your fault, I’m sure you had your own reasons for leaving for so long,” Her voice was trembling, despite her maturity in age she still seemed like the Ayaka in the past. “I just wonder what had happened to you all those years, I get it you don’t want to tell me and that’s okay. But I can’t help myself but wonder. I mean you used to be so cheerful, but now you seem pained.

You didn’t try to hide the obvious differences in you, but it sucked bringing up your past. You wanted to offer some sort of explanation but you just couldn’t, not because of trauma but because you felt it was needless to explain. “I’m sorry Ayaka, I cannot tell you.” You said.

“That’s what I was afraid of,” She murmured. Her eyes were downcast and she looked as if someone had betrayed her, but nevertheless, she didn’t give up on you, she knew you were somewhere deep in the shell of your physical body. “Regardless you’re still very precious to me, I waited for you night after night, and I prayed you’d be okay. Now you’re here, I don’t plan on doing anything practical and giving up so easily,” Even though she said it to you, it was almost like it was a promise to herself. 

[chamileonidae]

𝐁𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐘𝐨𝐮

"Fool, fool, fool, fool tonta/o!"

- carlos madrigal x gn!reader

- carlos and camilo are aged up (20)

- royalty au!

- miniseries! (wont be suing myself after all)

- warnings! slight angst? misunderstandings, arguments, fluff! Good cup of swearing (lmk if i missed any), i wanna say its cheesy but kinda not..?

- carlos is a bit more funky but he still has bad boy elements

☆note: i mention hands quite a lot on here but I don't refer to them as anything nsfw related. It's just hands that looks holdable, oh wow! This is just to clarify in case there's any misunderstandings!

part one | part two | part three | ???uncertain

From the day marked as officially your first time admitting and realising your feelings towards the prince, you couldn't stop staring at him unconsciously. During dinner, he sat beside you as always. Usually you'd steal brief glances, only because of how loud the clinking of his utensils were. Nowdays you'd zoned out randomly, only brave enough to look at his hands. Many questions filled your mind, are they bigger? Softer? Warmer? Or are they cold and rough alike his mistaken stony and harsh demeanor.

You've heard the rumours and so far he had kicked those out of the window. He was kind and often look out for you and even "begrudgingly" helped Camilo when he needed.

You stared up at the ceiling of your now bedroom, you've gotten used to the place in just those few months. The afternoons you and Carlos shared was your favourite routine that had just developed when you first came. The longer you thought about him, you remembered that one incident where you were cutting the food in front of you, making them into bite sized pieces; midway of cutting, you peeked at Carlos' hand that was using a fork to stab the food and brought it to his mouth. You swore it was accident when you dared yourself to actually look at his face, his face was deadpanned, only focusing on the food. He could care less about the conversations being thrown around in the dining room, only chiming in if someone asked him a question or spoke to him directly.

"yn... Yn, YN!" a voice called, you jolted back into reality and actually heard your name when Carlos slightly nudged you.

"Ah, yes?" your eyes searched the dining table, Pepa was the one who called, she apologised for raising her voice and asked if you could pass the bowl of salad near you. You insisted that there was no need to apologise and grabbed the bowl for her.

You groaned, and turned your body to bury your face in the pillow. From then on, you were wary of your actions, holding yourself back from zoning out. You rolled to your side and shut your eyes, drifting into slumber as Carlo once again being that last thing you thought off before ending the day.

A few days later, you woke up in a wonderful mood. Everything seemed calm and the birds chirping outside your window was the perfect music for the day. After getting yourself up and ready, you stepped out of your room earlier than usual. You thought about how Carlos would react seeing you're already optimistic this early.

You head straight through the hallway, passing by a few corners. Which is a lot and you thank the castle maps for existing or else you'd be lost. There was another turn up ahead, you nearly started skipping as you are getting closer to the dining room but slowed down when your heard whispering. You halted and leaned your back on the wall.

"I heard Prince Carlos is super mean," a voice exclaimed.

You rolled your eyes.

Must be new maids

"I heard the senior maids said he was polite and nice. They mentioned how he always had a scowl or a frown on his face but turns out he's just nice," another voice chimed, there was a small pause you assumed the other maid was taking in the information.

"Oh! They also said the only time he doesn't have a death stare is during meals with the royal family or with his suitor, yn. I see them in the garden everyday and honestly I like them!" the maid who spoke nothing but good added.

"Mmm, or maybe he's only treating them that way because he felt bad,"

Oh

You heard the sound of a small hit followed by the good maid's comment, "Don't say that! It's rude, come one we need to meet Laira in the kitchen,"

"I was joking!"

The chatter dispersed as they walked through the hall.

You let out a sigh and shrugged, "It's alright, Carlos isn't evil. The maid was just joking, i should get to breakfast now,"

There was just a few minutes left before you reach the dining room, you heard chattering again. At first you waved it off, eavesdropping could lead to misunderstandings.

"I saw you and yn getting close, they're the one aren't they," Camilo teased.

You stopped on your tracks, it was just like earlier. Camilo and who you assume was Carlos were talking.

"I felt guilty for pulling them into this," Carlos said, not even caring about Camilo's teasing.

"Oh so you're only doing that cause they didn't want to get in this mess?"

"Gee Cami, the least I could do is treat them right,"

Oh. Oh

From there, you skipped breakfast. You stayed in your room, there was a knock on the door but you didn't answer. You held yourself back from crying, trying your best to convince yourself that he's right, that's the least he could do for dragging you in. But what about the time he shielded you?

Why wouldn't he, he's not mean. It doesn't mean anything.

The forehead kiss? An accident obviously.

You groaned, dragging your hands on the side of your face.

Fool, fool, fool, fool tonta/o!

That's when you decided, you're going to find a way to break off the wedding and also avoid him or at least not pay much mind to him which might've been your most difficult goal.

Carlos was beyond confused. This morning, he was on his way to your room, he strolled through the long hallway that leads to yours and Alex's room; taking his time knowing that you usually would come out a bit later. But today, as if a miracle bloomed, you stepped out of your room a bit earlier than he had estimated. He could see you from a far so he decided to call you out.

"yn!" he shouted, giving a small wave.

He couldn't see it but your eyes widened and you started....running? To the other side might he add. At first he decided to shrug it off, assuming you had things to do, being his suitor and all.

The next morning, he spotted you laying on a picnic blanket in the garden. He admired you for awhile, watching you take in the smell of daffodils that were dancing near you and the gentle sunlight highlighting the colour of your hair and your lips.

Carlos nearly slapped himself for gaping too long. He took the initiative to move forward and approached you. His figure blocked the sun, you opened your eyes at the sudden disruption. You were met with his mossy green eyes, the sunlight revealing speckles of brown across his face. His hair was the colour of caramel when the light hits his curls.

You sat up and looked at him, he was beaming.

"I didn't see you yesterday afternoon," he started, taking a seat next to you, he extended his legs and leaned back with his hands holding him up from behind. He squinted at the morning rays before settling to close his eyes.

You didn't answer him, failing to peel your eyes away from him. 'Has he always been like this?' you wondered, 'Have you always felt this way?'. You glanced at his lips and instantly looked away, knowing how irresistible it was. That's when you decided to examine his hand, you lift up your own in front of you and tried to compare with visuals alone. You weren't sure if his hand were bigger or smaller than yours but you knew it was warm, his touch tickles the back of your head as it remembers the time he protected you from the flying ball.

'is he doing this out of pity?'

Carlos looked to his side, noticing how you were staring at his hands and blinked at yours in between. He smirked, slightly chuckling as he lift his hand and intertwined it with yours, he brought your hand to his mouth and kissed the back of your palm before resting it on his lap.

"You haven't told me where you went yesterday," he calmly spoke, stroking your hand with his thumb.

Oh how desperately you wished he didn't just do that with a pretty smile in a windless tone.

"I was- i was... hanging out with Alex. Yeah, Camilo was busy yesterday and we thought why not spend the day," you answered with the first thing that came to mind.

He raised an eyebrow at you, "No...., I saw Alex with Camilo having a stroll in that huge greenhouse we had,"

Your mouth shut, putting your head down as you fiddled with the fabric of your clothing.

Carlos' eyes furrowed, he turned his body to you and bent down to the side to see your face. He doesn't want to be suspicious of your actions or assume anything but your silence worried him.

"Were you avoiding me?" he questioned in the most delicate and low voice you had ever heard. It made you want to dump all your insecurities and worries but you decided against it. This has to end.

'For the best...?'

Your head snapped upwards and Carlos' straightened his posture. He nearly flinched when you yanked your hand away from his and you hurriedly stood up.

Carlos stared at you shocked, he felt a stab in his chest when you pulled away. A thought dawned over him, was there a bigger reason why you were avoiding him?

"Carlos, you have to stop doing this,"

"What?"

You held back the urge to scream at him, you knew he doesn't deserve that. He just needed to know how you felt. You inhaled a deep breath and spoke each word clearly, one by one, "I don't want your charity work,"

Carlos rosed to his feet, standing in front of you "Charity work? What are you saying," he lift a hand towards you.

You stepped backwords, avoiding the touch you crave but knew would poison you if it was all for nothing. How long is he going to put on a show?

You snickered, dismissing the pain "I get that you felt guilty for pulling me into this whole thing but you can't just treat me this way. I know that you were probably desperate for a first kiss or something and i was just being foolish. Maybe we should actually start considering a plan to break this entire thing off?"

Carlos stayed motionless, only his mouth slightly agape and his eyes dilated with disbelief.

"Id- I- you thought i was playing with you? I'm sorry if i made you uncomfortable but- i thought... I thought you...." he trailed off his sentences, unsure if he should continue.

Seeing how he couldn't carry on, you took off; running away from the problems you were hesitant about. Escaping the feelings revolving around him.

Leaving him crushed, uncertain, uneasy and scared. He watched you abandoned his sight, he stayed rooted; knowing he needed to give you time and maybe some time for himself too.

The next few weeks were radio silence, no known interaction was made between you and Carlos. Everyone around both of you noticed but never asked, assuming it might be a brief fallout or argument. And before anyone knew it, there's only about 3 weeks left before the princes gets married.

Carlos was sitting comfortably on a cushioned chair in the library, reading through a book that had just been added. He grabbed a piece of chocolate from it's box, it was sitting on the small table beside him. He took a bite of it, savouring the sweet. The fire crackled in it's fireplace, warmth spreading throughout the mini reading room; a contrast to the snowflakes falling softly on the slightly covered grass with a few pillows of snows, scattered throughout the garden.

He hasn't forgotten about what you've said, hell its been hitting him everyday and worst of all, he couldn't even pass by the garden without getting reminded of what you've said. He turly wished to confront you although his fear and cowardice held him back, afraid you had a reason for asking him to stop being so.... affectionate? Blegh, even the word made him gagged but he wouldn't mind it if it was you. He was afraid you genuinely hated being with him, every second of it, he was once sure that you requited his feelings yet now he might've just became the personification of boo boo the fool.

He facepalmed himself with the book he was holding, sniffing the smell of the new book in hopes it'll drown his thoughts of you.

It was just him, in a quiet room with only the sound of the flickering amber of heat and the sound of paper that echoed as he flipped to a new page being his melody.

Perhaps, including the sound of a knock on the wooden door?

He tore his eyes away from the page and eyed the door, the knock came once again.

"Come in!" he said, bringing back his attention towards the pages of his book, "Is there anything I could do for you?"

"Um Carlos,"

Carlos shut his book instantly, not bothering to place a bookmark in between the pages. He leaned forward from the comfortable chair, sitting stiffly upright.

"If you're busy then thats alright, I'll-"

"No, I'm not busy. Is there anything I could do, yn?" he asked, hopefulness and joy seeping through his body, he place a hand on his knee, preventing it from bouncing up and down.

"Oh, um I know how we could break our wedding,"

He frowned and his body slumped, he lent back into the comfortable cushion again; feeling his heart being choked.

"Sit," he pointed in front of him, at the same exact chair as the one he was sittin; you compiled, taking your seat.

"What do you purpose," he continued, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes, resting an arm above his eyelids.

Can't wait to see what you came up with.

"I'll go with the first plan you thought of," you answered, he really wished he had just imagined the tiny bit of excitement in your voice.

"Which is?" he opened an eye, glancing at you from the below the cover of his arm.

"Pretend to be messy and misbehave! I'll show up late to any important events-" you held about four fingers and used your pointy finger on your other hand to count, "then I could maybe mess up my room, nothing too extreme. We can try getting someone to pretend that i beat them up,"

Carlos sighed, he brought the both of his palms to his face and muffle out a disgruntled groan. He leaned back further into his chair, if he kept going, he'd fall.

You looked at him perplexed, "Was the plan bad?"

He dropped his hand to his lap and brought his head a little forward from the armchair to stare at you directly in the eyes, "Why do you want to stop the wedding so bad hermosa/o?"

You can't help but blush at the sudden nickname but kept your composure, "Do you not want to? It's been what we've planning to do since the first time we even got into this mess and we have only 3 weeks left,"

He blinked and sighed, dropping his head down to see his shoes. Silently, he stood, "I'm sorry," he apologized, refusing to face you.

You followed suit to his sudden stance, you hands holding themselves back from touching him, "What? Carlos, we'll get out of it, don't worry," you'll be honest, you're not sure if that comforted him but it sure as hell didn't for you.

Carlos went back to you at once, his eyebrows furrowed as if frustrated, "What I-"

It's like a bandage just rip it off.

"I don't want to call off the wedding,"

There was a small pause before you broke it.

"Wait why?" your mind was still deciding whether to be anticipate his feelings or completely shut it out.

Carlos inhaled a deep breath, exhaling afterwards, "Maybe this could work you know. We could actually try this out?"

"Try this out?" you deadpanned, "Try. This. Out?" you raised your voice a little, spatting out the words one after another as if trying to make a child understand words they've never heard of.

"If this is what you call a couple, when we clearly have not been talking for weeks, ignoring our elaborate ruse then we're doomed," you emphasized the word "weeks" and "doomed", telling him how potentially terrible his offer is.

His hand was brought up, massaging his temples with his fingers, "Yn" he started, his voice was stern, a complete switch from the usual soft voiced you've gotten used to.

You bit the inside of your cheek and clicked your tongue, "Oh, please forgive me your highness,"

"Now I have to put up with the mess you made,"

"The mess we made," Carlos corrected.

"You kissed me in the garden!"

"I asked you and you agreed!" he stepped closer to you.

You sighed, frustrated, why can't he just agree so you could be out of his hair soon?

"Listen, I'm sorry for reeling you into this and being forced to love someone you hate,"

"Carlos," you shook your head to which he ignored.

He paused for a moment, debating if he should let his guard down and let you know : "I know you don't feel the same but I burn for you,"

Except you heard it, realising he could hear himself out loud, he clasped his mouth immediately and turned wary of your reaction.

You shot him a confused look, a slight smile almost exposed itself when you asked: "You'd burn for me?"

He removed his hand and gently held the both of your hands, "I burn,"

You shook your head, "I'd burn,"

"For me?" a smirk made it's way to Carlos' lips.

You beamed.

His smile only grew larger, he cupped your cheek; rubbing his thumb. His hands were soft, you've confirmed. You leant into his touch, forgetting the glacial breeze outside. Carlos took in every inch of your face, he had seen it everyday but he never gets bored of it.

"Did you know how much I've dreamed of you?" he clocked the colour of your eyes.

You giggled, "I thought about you all the time too. From the mornings till late at night,"

Carlos felt his face heated, more than the fireplace could ever.

Your eyes lingered on his lips and he noticed. He swiftly wrapped an arm around your waist, your bodies being dangerously close. Your eyes widened as you finaly got the chance to admire him closer than before.

His smirk still stands as you held his shoulders from the sudden movement. Your nose nearly brushed his when he leaned closer to your face. You fluttered your eyes shut before hearing a chuckle, you felt his vibrated due to how much he was laughing.

You opened your eyes, "No kisses then mi principe, adios," you pushed yourself away from him to which he immediately pulled you back in and placed a quick kiss on your lips.

You fathomed the kiss before scrunching your face slightly, "Ay, that's it?"

He raised an eyebrow, chuckling "You're a lot more clingy when you're mine,"

Embarrassed, you lightly smacked his shoulder, receiving laughter in return.

"Okay, okay sorry. Now about that kiss," he silenced his voice as he pressed his lips onto yours, eyes closed. You were surprised at first but quickly melted. His lips was just like you remembered, soft and slightly chapped. You could taste the slight hint of sweet chocolate as you brought your hand up, entangling it in his curls and deepened the kiss.

It was a lot longer than the silly kiss you shared in the garden. A lot different. This felt perfect, it is perfect. Maybe it was fate that you became his suitor or mayhaps he was lucky to found you reading his book. Whatever it was, nothing can compare to him and this moment.

He pulled away afterwards, leaving you to follow him but realised he stopped. He gazed at you, eyes half-lidded and face rosy as if he was drunk. You cant deny the fact that you probably looked the same as him.

He cracked a smile and wrapped his arms around you, relief pulsing through him. You stumbled backwards a little from the sudden embrace but accepted it nonetheless. He was squeezing you and burying his head on the crook of your neck.

"What's up, mi amor?" you patted his back soothingly.

You felt his hair tickling you when he shook his head, "Nothing, I'm just glad to have you back,"

You chuckled and kissed his unruly curls, "Me too,"

Hi, i tried my best not to quote the songs exactly because I'm a bit more on the not so fond of that type to songfics that constantly has the characters singing.

I still read them! But i sometimes skip the lyrics. i was referring to this chapter when i said the reader's response is not constant. Im just hoping I didn't run with it too fast? Lmk your thoughts!

And like, if y'all have an idea for an ending/bonus that does not involve a wedding scene nor a time skip where they have kids then please send in my inbox🧍

Me: ohh wedding scenes are hard to write because i have zero feelings

Also me: so a fic that involves getting married.....

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[imaginingmanyfandoms]

Paul's Lullaby | part two

<previous | next>

It had been a few days since your attack on the beach. Since then, Paul really didn't like when you were home alone. Or walking to work alone. Or anywhere alone really. It didn't have to be with him, but he needed to know he, or someone he trusted could get to you in time.

He was worried that the leech had caught your scent, and would come back. Sam didn't think so, Sam was under the impression that this person was actually testing their lines, and he wouldn't let the same mistake happen again. You were still waiting for Paul to tell you the whole truth, but you were being patient, as he had been with you. It was clear that whatever it was, was hard for him to say.

Your couch was permanently occupied by Paul, who picked you up from work to drive you home. And if he couldn't make it, he'd send one of the pack, or one of the imprints to pick you up and bring you to Emily's house.

You were cautiously optimistic about where things were going with Paul. There was still some trust issues, but you were working on it together. And no matter how much Embry or Jared talked about Paul's anger issues, you didn't really see it.

Currently, you were at Emily's, sitting on the couch and trying to stay awake until Paul got there. He made you feel safe.

"Have you seen this?" Emily asked holding a newspaper. There were missing people all over Seattle. It's what had Paul working overtime. He was pulling more than his fair share, and you knew that had to do with you. But you didn't understand what.

"Is anyone ever going to tell me what's going on?" you asked, but your tone was light, joking. Emily laughed, and sat by your legs on the couch.

"Paul really is taking his time, huh?" She gave you a sad smile. "He's doing that for your benefit."

"I know, I know," you said. "I'm just really confused. I swear the scenarios I'm making up in my head must be worse."

"Probably," she said. You both laughed this time.

"Well he better snap to it."

"I'm heading to bed," Emily said, patting your leg over the thin blanket. "You okay out here?"

"Yeah, thanks Em. Goodnight," you said.

"Goodnight."

"Wake up honey."

Paul was gently shaking your arm. He was sitting on the edge of the couch, trying to wake you up as nicely as possible. Jared laughed in the background at how soft Paul was around you, but quickly said his goodbyes as he took the night patrol. It takes a tough guy to make fun of someone and then rush out the door. But Paul didn't care.

"Paul?" you asked, finally coming to. "What time is it?"

"Late, it's very late."

"Take me home," you said, holding your arms out to him.

"I like you when you're sleepy, you're very nice." Paul picked you up, and said a quick goodbye to Sam as you closed your eyes again. It made Sam smile.

Paul carried you to his pick up truck, and got you settled into the passenger seat. He even did up your seat belt. You woke up a little more, but your squirming and stretching was the cutest thing to him. He was so enamoured with you. He didn't really care how long it took until you trusted him. Or even if you never wanted to be with him, he didn't care. As long as he got to be around you, he would be fine.

"Let's watch a movie tonight," you said, yawning right after.

"I don't think you'll be able to stay awake," he said, smiling.

"Can we try?"

"How about we watch something tomorrow, after work?"

"Okay," you said, closing your eyes again. "Tomorrow."

You fell back asleep before you got home. Paul was driving slowly, and the cool air was filtering in through his open window. He was listening to some folk band, and the whole thing just lulled you to sleep.

When he parked the truck, he did everything he could to get you into your room without waking you up, and he was pretty successful. But as he was tucking you into bed, you woke up a little. He moved to leave but you grabbed his wrist.

"Goodnight Paul," you said, not letting go of his wrist.

"Goodnight honey," he said, daring to lean down and kiss your forehead. You made a happy sound as you rolled over, getting comfortable in bed.

Paul would've done anything in the world to crawl into bed with you and fall asleep. But he was happy just to be here.

So, Paul went back to the couch. And got as comfortable as he could, and fell asleep, reminding himself that you were safest when he was here. And that he was doing a good job protecting you.

The next morning went better than most mornings. You woke up in a good mood, and decided to make breakfast for Paul. He'd been working so hard to protect you, that he deserved at least a fraction of that devotion back.

You made the lot, pancakes and eggs. A small fruit salad and a plate of bacon. While the pot of coffee finished, Paul wandered into the kitchen stretching.

"Mmm," he groaned, "something smells good."

"I made you breakfast," you said, a smile on your face.

Paul was in love with you, that much he knew for sure. And today he got his first sign that maybe you were at least starting to fall for him too. It was a good day.

"Eat up," you said. "I have to work in a few hours."

"You're going to eat too, right?" he asked.

"Of course I am," you said, stopping before you left the room. You turned on the radio against the wall. It was some band you'd never heard of, but it was nice enough. Paul was already filling his plate, but you went to pour two coffees. "Cream, sugar?"

"Just black," he said, mouthful of food. "Just come sit."

"All right," you said. "But for the record I wanted the coffee."

You chose the chair beside him, instead of across from him, and he took note of that but didn't say anything. You smiled at him, and he smiled back, like he always did.

Breakfast was relatively quiet, you made small talk about what was going on that day, but mostly you just enjoyed the silence. It didn't feel awkward, it felt right. It felt comfortable. When you were done, Paul wasn't. So you carried your plate to the sink, and rubbed your hand across his back as you passed. His breath hitched slightly, and it made you smile, thinking about how different Paul was.

Maybe it was time you cut him a little slack.

When he finished, Paul helped you clean up. And even shooed you away to get ready for work while he did the dishes.

"Thank you," he said, as you walked back down the hallway. He wiped his hands on a dishcloth and dropped it back on the counter. He leaned back, and you couldn't help but notice how beautiful he is.

"Thank you for being here," you said, suddenly self conscience under his intent stare at you. You pulled your sweater sleeves over your hands, keeping the fabric pinched between your fingers.

"I uh, packed up the rest of the fruit salad. I thought you might like to have it at work." Paul had one of your Tupperware containers sitting on the counter.

"And the bacon?"

He looked guilty. "I ate it."

"It's okay!" you said, laughing at his face. "It was made to be eaten."

He drove you to work, and although you missed to walk, you knew you'd get back to it eventually. When he dropped you off, you hesitated to leave. Paul sat patiently, giving you a moment to collect yourself.

"I want the truth tonight," you said.

"Honey..."

"Just, think about it from my perspective. I have no idea what it is I should be scared of, I have no idea where you work or why you're gone all the time. I'm worried about you, and I'm scared."

"I'm scared too." Paul took a deep breath. "I'm scared that something will happen to you. But mostly I'm scared that if you know the truth you'll be scared of me."

"I wouldn't."

"You don't know that," he said, he looked terrified. "You hated me earlier this month. Couldn't even look at me throughout high school and I am so embarrassed about that. And it's going to be even more embarrassing when I tell you everything because then you'll know that we didn't make eye contact from two years attending the same school."

"I'm sure we made eye contact," you said.

"No." He looked at you, and you could see the pain in his eyes. "We didn't." The look on his face made you hurt. It made your heart deflate, and you would've done anything to see him smile again.

You unclicked your seat belt, but didn't move as it sprang back into place. It didn't feel right to leave the air like this.

The heat he gave off seemed to float right into your space, and there was something about his presence that made you feel more settled than you had in a long time. You wanted to touch him, so you leaned across the middle seat, and placed a tender kiss against his cheek.

"Just think about it," you said, sliding back towards the door and starting to get out. You didn't want to leave him feeling sad, but you had to get to work.

"Have a good shift," he said, watching you leave. He hated watching you walk away.

"You too."

Work had been horrible. Your boss was kind of a jerk, and waiting tables had really lost it's appeal. You'd been serving tables in La Push's best diner, but when the new owners took over, it quickly began to lose it's charm. You wanted to buy it when they were selling, but coming right out of high school you didn't have that kind of cash.

You just felt kind of miserable, so when you saw Jared and Kim waiting for you outside, you just felt annoyed. You were under the impression you and Paul had made plans.

"Hey," Kim said, smiling from the passenger seat. You got in behind Jared. "Don't worry. Paul said another hour, tops."

"Can you guys just take me home? I had a long day and I just want to relax," you asked, pulling your upper body between Jared and Kim's seats.

"I don't know, Y/N," Jared said, making a worried face. "I don't think Paul would like that."

"C'mon Jared," you said. "I'll lock the doors, and I'll call you if I get nervous."

"Jared, she wants to go home." Kim smiled at you. You really liked her.

He rolled his eyes and started the car. "When he freaks out on me, I'm throwing you both under the bus."

"He won't get mad at us," you said, "he said himself. An hour tops."

Jared and Kim were actually really great travel companions. Kim always made sure you were included in conversation, and Jared was not afraid to sing at the top of his lungs which was hilarious. They really cheered you up.

And of course, they waited until you were in your house to pull away.

Inside, you were tired, and cold. And you had wanted to spend some time with Paul. But he said an hour, and you figured we wouldn't lie about that. It wasn't too late that you couldn't give him some of the patience that he had given you.

So you spent the time bringing out some blankets, and pillows. When that was done you made some popcorn and fresh lemonade.

Paul should've been there any second. So you just spent some time tidying up the place. You saw some fabric poking out from under on the blankets, and you yanked on it, pulling out one of Paul's shirts. You laughed. Because it seemed rare to even see him in a shirt.

You pulled your shirt over your head, and put on his instead. Your shorts were hidden by his baggy shirt, even baggier on your small frame.

Twigs snapped outside the window, and you gasped. You knew you locked the door, but decided on checking the windows too. Just so you could say that you did. They were all locked. When you walked back into the living room, Paul was standing there - jaw clenched tight just like his fists were. But you could see the restraint. You could tell he was actively calming himself. You took a step closer.

"Don't," he said, voice cracking. He closed his eyes, hating the way you stop dead in your tracks. He didn't want to scare you. "I told you that I didn't want you here alone for a reason."

"I was so tired after work," you explained. "I wanted to sit on the couch and watch a movie like normal people do."

"I am trying to make things as normal as possible for you," he said, the anger was already washed away, but it wasn't gone. Not entirely. "You just have to trust me."

"How can I trust you when you don't trust me?" you said, voice starting to raise with unavoidable frustration.

"You think that I don't trust you?"

"I'm not allowed to be by myself, how else would you like me to interpret that?" You felt tears brimming at your eyes, the confrontation bringing out your anxiety.

"If we're going to fight, I need you to take three steps back."

"For what?"

"Your safety."

"What does that mean?" you shouted. "Are you scared you'll hit me?"

"I would never hit you," he shouted back. "How could you even think that?"

"I don't want to argue," you said, quietly. "I'm sorry I shouted."

He saw the sad look in your eyes, and could've kicked himself for driving you to this. He nodded, prying his eyes away from your sad ones to look anywhere else. He looked at your shirt, for the first time, and even though he was angry with you, he loved the sight. It calmed him down knowing it was you, in his shirt, a couple feet away.

He held his hand out, palm up for you to take. You did, and he guided you, as if you were dancing - not fighting, to the couch. You sat beside him, and he kept your hand in his.

"I need you to really listen to me," he said, his eyes glossing over with the realization that if he loses you, he'd never be whole again. "For now, I need you to follow all my rules. Even when they seem excessive, or dumb. And in return I will explain everything. And I won't keep any secrets from you."

"I can do that," you said. "If you're always honest with me, I'll be honest with you."

"Okay, tomorrow I'll explain everything. You're off, right?"

"Yeah," you said, shuffling over so you could lean your head against Paul's shoulder. "Can we watch our movie now?"

He put an arm around you, and you fit to him. Like you were always meant to be there. Well, technically, you were.

"Yeah, honey. We can watch a movie now."

[if you want to be added to a taglist for this story then let me know :-)]

[e-m-christina]

Oh! For the Christmas writing challenge, maybe an Ivar x f!reader where the two are in a relationship, and she is like the sweet, kind, optimistic kind of person, but some FOOL decides to kidnap reader? How would Ivar react/realize? How would she get her back and what would he do to the kidnapper? Maybe some comfy comfort in it?🥺🥺🥺 Even better if reader is slightly injured LMAO can you tell that I am in a protective Ivar mood?

You obviously don't have to write this! Thank you so much anyway!!❤❤❤

AGHHHH I love this! I think I'll set this in modern times (and it will probably be a series!)

I can't wait to write this! If anyone wants tagged, comment below! This will be posted within the first 5 days of December!

Thanks for requesting! Requests are open.

CHRISTMAS CHALLENGE REQUESTING INFO

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[shysneeze]

Peace and Quiet (Remus Lupin x F!Reader)

Description: Easter at Hogwarts brings chocolate, lazy afternoons and cuddles, the perfect medicine for one exhausted werewolf. 

Warnings: It’s really just pure fluff, it does not at all talk about the religious side of easter, it’s just a fluff piece with chocolate and cuddles. 

Tag-List: new tag-list, form his here if you’re interested :)

(A/N: for @ribbons-in-your-hair​ , this was so cute I wrote it immediately after the request thank you xx) 

It’s the creak of the dorm door being pushed open that first causes Remus to stir, to grumble slightly as he twists away from the noise. Instinctively though, his eyes have begun to open to a bright slither of sunlight slipping through a crack in the curtains of the, spilling an orange colour across the room and illuminating every speck of dust as it floats peacefully through the air. 

It’s the sun of an early afternoon, no longer shrouded by the pink clouds that had settled earlier in the morning, when he woke in the shack before being helped back into the castle and being given the Pomfrey seal of approval to be allowed to recover in his own bed. 

He twists back to the source of the noise, expecting one of the boys, coming into the check on him or to grab a forgotten item. However, as his eyes adjust, he’s almost startled to find (Y/N) stood by the door, teeth ground into a winced expression as the door clicks loudly behind her.

“Mornin’,” She smiles sheepishly, “Sorry, I was hoping you were already awake.” 

He sits up, rubbing his fingers to his left temple, easing the headache left by the night prior’s transformation. (Y/N) bites her bottom lip guiltily across the room, his silence filling her with a certain worry that she’s startled him awake, and into a crossed mood. 

“Don’t need to apologise,” He manages through a subtle yawn, “Always got time for you.” 

She lets out a gentle sigh as he pushes himself to one side of his small twin sized bed, flicking the corner of his quilt down as an invitation for her to join him. She kicks her shoes off quickly, skidding slightly across the polished floor in her socks and landing next to him in the bed with a twang of the mattress springs below. 

“How are you feeling?” 

He lets out a small huffed breath, already sinking back down into the pillow, arms wrapping around her waist and pulling her with him. He mutters out a soft ‘tired’ as he settles them together in his arms, holding her to his chest. 

“Remus,” She laughs quietly, “But-” 

“Sleep…” 

“But the snacks will melt.” 

He freezes, releasing her with piqued interest. His heart warms at the sound of her light laughter, a peaceful sound to match the soft sun the creeps through the window. She sits up again, grinning down at him as she holds a paper bag up proudly. 

“It’s Easter, Remus,” She reminds, “I have enough chocolate to last us until dinner.” 

He sits up, taking the paper bag to inspect the contents, cracked lips spreading into a dopey grin. He uses his free hand to cup the back of her neck and pull her close to kiss the crown of her head in sheer admiration. 

“You’re brilliant, Love.” 

(Y/N) rolls his eyes, but her smile widens as she empties the bags contents between them, chocolate frogs and chocolates eggs wrapped in the spring coloured wrappers spilling onto the covers.

Remus is suddenly much more awake. 

“Figured we could just spend the day lazing around.” (Y/N) admits, “Just the two of us,” 

“Optimistic of you,” Remus reaches forward for a chocolate egg, “How have you bribed the boys away?” 

“An elaborate easter egg hunt,” (Y/N) explains with a slight shrug, “There only is one egg but the first clue is entirely in a made up language so…” 

Remus barks out a laugh. 

“Bloody hell, (Y/N).” 

“Well if they knew I was coming with enough chocolate for a small army they never would have given us a moment of peace and quiet!” She defends before softening, “And I just want some peace and quiet with you, Remus.”

His grin softens to a loving smile. He’s glad for more reasons than one to be alone with her, knowing if anyone were to witness him now, so shamelessly in love, he’d be teased for the rest of his life. 

“I’m just impressed,” He assures, “Thanks for doing this, (Y/N).” 

“No need to thank me,” She gives him a cheeky smile, “Anything for a day lying in bed and eating chocolate.” 

He tosses the crunched up wrapper from his chocolate egg at her playfully, pulling another laugh from her lips.

 The afternoon is spent in conversation, filled with laughter and adorned by the sweet smell of chocolate. It’s rare Remus feels so alive after a full moon, and part of him wonders if it’s the sugar rush, or the sun perhaps, but he’s almost certain it’s the girl sitting next to him. 

It’s her laughter, the warmth of it that brightens the room, it’s the feeling of her fingers intertwined with his own beneath the covers and her voice hushed for only him to hear even in an otherwise empty room.

It’s her.

By the time the afternoon begins to come to an end, they’re almost asleep, conversations slurred into sleepy ramblings and hums of agreement. It’s as they’ve finally fallen silent, tangled beneath covers still littered in empty wrappers, that the dorm room door swings open. 

“Oi, (Y/L/N)!” Sirius’ voice startles them upright, standing with two similarly unimpressed boys at the end of Remus’ bed, covered in what looks like slimy green scum from the lake.  “I have a bone to pick with you and you’re nonsense clues-” 

Remus nearly falls off the bed with laughter. 

[beneathashadytree]

ARTISTIC - ROHAN KISHIBE X READER

Warnings : a bit of pushiness from Rohan (it's just who he is, sorry, lmfao), reader is gender-neutral!

Genre : fluff, comfort!

Word count : 1.5K words

Synopsis : Having hidden their talent for years now, Rohan's lover accidentally reveals their favorite hobby.

Requests : Are closed for the time being, but will be opened soon!

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So far they'd managed to keep it a secret for two years, and they intended to keep it forevermore, if that was possible. There wasn't a need for him to find out, and it was better having him in the dark, honestly.

It's what they told themself, sneaking around the house during the times Rohan wasn't around, or when he was so immersed in working on his manga that he failed to notice anything happening around him. These were the times that they were able to freely tiptoe between rooms, gathering their materials and hiding in the quietness of the bedroom. And if the mangaka were to ever make a sudden appearance by the door, it was easy for them to stow away everything in the space under the bed with nothing more than a move of their arm.

Given their boyfriend's occupation and his incredible dedication to the craft, he was out of sight for hours on end, pouring over the newest chapter-in the making. His absence gave them the chance to take their sweet time with their sketchbook and pencil, and even more than enough to pull out their easel and canvas for some recreational painting. And with him being so immersed in his job, he almost never noticed that they were off doing something else.

Which was a huge relief for them, honestly. They could paint their heart out whenever they felt like it, embodying the emotions they felt onto surfaces they saw fit, using the medium of their choice and artistically pouring their soul into their pieces. It all felt so personal, especially with how secretive they were about it; a well-kept secret ever since they'd met.

The day had been a good one so far. They'd woken up with Rohan surprisingly having brewed coffee for them in bed, waving their thanks off with a slightly embarrassed "I accidentally made too much" and offering them an omelette that he was 'too full to eat anyways.' Hiding their smile at his nonchalant affection, they'd graciously accepted it, before they went their separate ways: Rohan burrowing himself in his work, whereas they retreated to the sanctuary of their secret hobby.

Once sitting on the edge of their armchair with their easel propped up in front of them, they opened the balcony doors to let in some much-welcome sunlight and a beautiful spring breeze. Much to their delight, a few cherry blossom flowers from the trees in their backyard blew into the room, settling onto the floor. The pleasant weather set them in a happy mood, and they suddenly felt like popping a CD into the player on the window sill opposite to the bed.

With Michael Jackson's brand new album playing through the speakers, they hummed as they drew, often even mouthing the lyrics or softly singing along. Their lineart had gone great, and they were quite optimistic, feeling that the painting aspect would be just as enjoyable. In their own little happy world, they took no notice of the approaching footsteps, and the grumbling.

A slightly irritated voice came from behind them, "Babe, as much as I like listening to Invincible, would you turn that down? I'm---woah."

Jumping in their seat and accidentally splashing a bit of red paint on the bottom right corner of the canvas, they whipped around to find Rohan standing still in front of them, a stone-cold expression on his handsome face.

In a panic, they tried to set their palette down, wiping their hands down the front of their blotched apron, they quickly stood up in a silly attempt to hide their art piece, "Um, y-yeah, on it."

"Why are you standing in front of it?" he arched his eyebrow, taking a few steps forward, "Let me see."

"No," they firmly said, refusing to budge from their place, "Don't want to."

Not heeding their warning, he frowned, moving even closer and touching their arm, a little damp with paint, "Why the hell not? I've only just found out that you can apparently make art in the first place, and now you wanna stop me from looking at it?"

The mangaka almost sounded offended, and they couldn't help but feel their expression softening, "Listen, Rohan, it's not something you'd want to look at believe me. I'm just an amateur."

"Who even gives a damn about level of professionalism?" he asked with a scoff, squeezing their arm gently, "Come on, it's only me. No need to get all embarrassed."

"It's exactly because it's you that I'm so embarrassed," they groaned, facepalming and subsequently smudging a little bit of paint onto their skin, and the Rohan frowned even deeper at their words.

"Now, what do you mean by that?"

"You're... you," they lameley gestured with their hands, exasperation apparent on their face, "You're a perfectionist, and you literally make a living with art. I'm just a hobby artist, and it's not like I've got insane talent like you."

"And who are you to be the judge of that?" he snapped, pushing their shoulder to the side, though not unkindly, "I'm still getting a proper look at this, no buts."

Giving up as he proved himself to be adamant, they just sighed and moved away, granting him full access to the canvas. He even took the liberty of taking a seat in their armchair, leaning in and resting his chin on his palm as he inspected the entire piece. They waited on his review with baited breath, mentally preparing theirself for a brutal look of disgust. Rohan, however, remained completely silent as bright green eyes swept over the still-wet artwork.

"You're not done yet, are you?" he finally asked, his fingers lightly ghosting on top of the splash of paint they'd made upon his entrance.

They shook their head, heart in their throat, "Not yet. These are only the base colors."

Nodded, he gave a hum that could pass as one of appreciation, "If only you'd told me you could draw and paint this beautifully, I wouldn't feel like such a fool right now."

Confusion made its way on their face, "I---what?"

Rohan gave them a look, "Come on now, you worried I would shit on your skill, didn't you?" upon receiving their sheepish look in reply, Rohan looked away, his expression almost forlorn, "That alone is illogical, considering how brilliantly talented you are, but it does sting a bit you think I'm that terrible of a boyfriend."

Embarrassed, they spoke quietly, "You're just a genius, you know? And you're well aware of it. I was almost a hundred percent sure you'd look down on me."

"It might be my area of expertise, yes, but it certainly is yours too," he pressed on, facing them with a steely gaze, "Why the hell would I look down on you?"

"Ro, you despise Josuke for no reason," they chuckled half-heartedly, scratching their chin, "You can't blame me for worrying that I'd receive the same reaction from you."

"That's not true, I dislike him because he's an arrogant, insolent, hot-headed fool," he rolled his eyes, leaning back against the chair and inviting them over with a gesture of his hand, "And that's besides the point. I'm your lover, I wouldn't dream of treating you the same way I treat that brainless buffoon."

"Poor Josuke," they chortled, making their way over to Rohan and settling carefully in his lap, as he adjusted his hold on them so they would fit snugly against him, "But... are you really being honest? About you liking this?"

He gave them a very pointed, almost-annoyed look, "Do I come off as someone who would lie just to shut someone up?"

Admittedly, he was the last person in the world to do such a thing. There was no other option; he had to have been telling the truth---though that was as unbelievable as him kissing up to someone.

A chaste but powerful kiss snapped them out of their swirling thoughts, along with a mumbled, "Get out of that head of yours," following up with another, slower and even more sensual kiss that stole their breath away, his hands reaching up to cradle their paint-splotched face, causing them to sigh contentedly and loop their arms around his neck to bring him impossibly close against them.

He was far from being a perfect man, really, and was as abrasive as he appeared to be and was well aware of that fact, but in moments like these, the delicate manner with which he loved became more and more apparent; as a matter of fact, he was now even more enamored by his artistic beloved than he ever was.

Taglist: @mrsgiovanna @blondeboyfriend @boorishbrambling

[wonderfilworld]

Celebrate - J.P.

James Potter x reader where James wins an important quidditch match and the reader wants to help him celebrate. 

a/n: this is based off a request I got from a lovely anon, thank you!! also, this is going to take place during 7th year and both james and reader are 18!

word count: 4.9k 

warnings/contains: NSFW!! smut: oral, unprotected sex, praise kink-ish; cursing; drinking. if I missed anything, let me know!

if you want more stories like this, send in a request here

Masterlist

you sat on the edge of your seat the whole game, chewing on your thumb as remus quietly berated you time and time again, stop doing that, he says, but you ignore him. you know how important this game is to your boyfriend: james had not been himself the past couple of weeks; school work was piling up and he was just not getting it. he was so stressed about school lately, and he confessed to you the other night that he was worried his recent mood change would affect this game. he takes quidditch seriously - so seriously - and while you may not understand it, you love him with all your heart so you learn to love the things he loves. you quickly assured him that he was amazing and of course he would play great and that gryffindor just had to beat slytherin today or you wouldn’t give him kisses for a week. that seemed to get him, as he perked up and promised he would win, just for you.

you tried to pay attention to the game, you really did, but your eyes just wouldn’t leave your boyfriends figure as he sat atop his broomstick. he just looked so good - tan and dark beautiful hair, and his muscles, god, his muscles made you weak. you seriously hoped gryffindor could pull this win off, because you desperately wanted to give james the surprise you had planned. your boyfriend, however, had you wrapped around his finger, and you knew you would end up giving him his surprise either way. 

before you knew it, the game was over and gryffindor had won the match. you jumped up and down, attacking remus as you both cheered. you looked at james and saw him point to you, his signature smirk gracing his features. he and his teammates ran off to the locker rooms to change while the rest of your house headed to the common room to start the celebratory party. 

______

you had a cup of firewhisky in your hand, lightly humming to the music that flowed throughout the room. the air was thick; it was hot and people were standing entirely too close to you. sirius had just arrived to the party, and you rolled your eyes as he winked at you. you looked around to see if your boyfriend was right behind him, but you saw no sign of the brunette so you went back to swaying you hips to the music. 

you felt a pair of hands grab your waist from behind and you quickly jerk yourself around, ready to reprimand whoever thought they could grab you like that. you are instead met with your lover, “you know you’re not supposed to be drinking that stuff, princess,” james chastises you, looking down to the cup of alcohol in your hand. you have unfortunately come to realize that firewhisky is not your friend, recalling the night last year where you drank with the boys for the first time, and let’s just say that you are definitely not on good terms with firewhiskey, and james does not trust you within five feet of it. 

you scoff at his remark since you’re usually the one chiding him and reply, “I actually got this for you.” 

he throws a hand over his heart in fake indignation before taking the cup from your hands and puckering his lips for a kiss. “my bad, baby, can I make it up to you?” 

it’s your turn to scoff now as you lean on your tip toes to plant a quick peck to his puckered lips. he whines and tries to chase you for more but you quickly throw a finger in his face as you stop him, “don’t worry, baby, you’ll be getting plenty of kisses from me tonight.” 

He perks up at that, his smirk taking over his face and he takes his first sip of alcohol. he doesn’t want to get drunk, not even tipsy, but you were so sweet to get it for him and the action makes his chest tighten and warmth spread throughout his body. he loves you, and he never wastes an opportunity to tell or show you. he’s opting to show you right now, wants to drag you up the stairs and throw you on his bed and completely ruin you for being so amazing to him these past few weeks. 

it’s not like james to be insecure, he’s usually the optimistic one who always tries to keep a smile on your face, but the fact that you give as much as you get, really emphasizes to him that you’re equals, and that he can trust you with any and everything. he wraps his free arm around your waist as your hands come together on his chest to hold the fabric of his shirt. “I love you,” he breathes, and the sentiment is so sincere, the butterflies in your stomach go crazy, and you can’t help the smile that overtakes your visage. instead of answering, you lean back up to mold your lips with his, both hands coming to either side of his head. you love him too, he knows, and actions speak much louder than words. 

“hey, potter!” someone yells from across the crowded room. james groans as you break the kiss, looking back to the person who called for him. they wave him over and he looks back at you apologetically.

“go on,” you say, knowing that people want to congratulate him on a great game. usually he makes his rounds before he finds you at these parties, but he was so desperate to see you after his rough week that he forgot all about the other people in the room. you lean up to whisper in his ear before he departs from you, “come to your room when you’ve finished, I have a surprise for you.” he jerks his head back to you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. 

“i’ll be quick,” he promises. 

“take your time,” you say with a smile. you run up the stairs to your dorm quickly, grabbing the treat you had just gotten for james from your latest hogsmead trip. you hastily make your way to james’ room, finding him sitting on the end of his bed waiting for you. 

he leans back on his hands as you shut the door, cocking his head to the side as he speaks. “where’d you go?” 

you walk towards him, climbing to sit astride his lap and you wrap your arms around his neck as you pull his lips to yours. 

you kiss him deep, not wasting time on teasing as you lick into his mouth. james groans, hands gripping your waist tightly. you break from the kiss, a string of spit connecting your mouths. james watches as it stretches and breaks and he groans again, and you can feel how he grows harder underneath you. “had to go get your surprise,” you say. 

his eyes are still on your wet mouth, but they shoot to your own at that, and a grin breaks out on his face. instead of replying, he grabs the back of your head and brings your mouths back together. it’s messy and fast and you can hardly breathe with how hard your faces are pressed together. his tongue is in your mouth, and you can taste the firewhisky on his breath as he licks around - at your teeth, the roof of your mouth, your own tongue. you’re beginning to grow hot, but not the same hot as before in the crowded common room. the kind of hot where your stomach churns with lust and if james doesn’t touch you soon you think you’ll explode. 

your hands are in his hair, pulling because you know he likes it. you’re hoping he gets the message, that you need some friction between your thighs, because his mouth is still on yours and you can’t break away. your core is tingling and you are desperate to have anything he’ll give you. luckily, james seems to understand as his hands return to your waist and pull your core directly on top of his cock, fully hard now and straining against the fabric of his jeans. the pressure gets him to finally break away from your lips so you can breathe and you both moan at the friction. he begins to kiss along your jaw, moving down the side of your neck as you continue the steady rocking of your hips. he begins to suck on a particularly sensitive spot on your neck and you whimper, your hips beginning to go a little harder against his. 

“shit -” james whispers, his own hips bucking up. he brings his head up to see your face; your head is thrown back, eyes closed and mouth parted slightly as little gasps leave your throat. “please sit on my face,” he begs, squeezing your hips.

you whimper again, dropping your head on his shoulder as your hips pick up the pace. his voice is deep and raspy, and all it does is add fuel to the fire burning in your core. you nod your head, bringing it back up to look in his eyes. “o-okay” you say quietly, and you hate yourself for not being able to speak clearly when you’re in this state, know that james loves to tease you about it. he taps your hip and you swing your leg off of him, sitting by his side. you watch as he scoots to the head of the bed, laying his head atop his pillow. “take your clothes off,” he tells you. 

you stand on shaky legs, grabbing the end of your shirt and pulling it over your head. you reach down and pop the button of your jeans, grabbing the zipper and pulling it down. once those are removed, you reach behind your back, unhooking the clasp of your bra as you watch james reach down to palm himself over his jeans. you see how his chest is moving up and down, breathing heavily and you see the way his eyelids flutter as he squeezes the bulge. once your bra is on the floor, you go to do the same to your panties, but james stops you.

“wait - leave those on,” he says.

you do as he says and climb on the bed to straddle him once more. you rock your hips again, the lack of clothing making the feeling absolutely delicious. your head drops back again as you beg him, “please let me take your clothes off.” 

“not yet baby, come up here,” he removes his glasses before setting them on the bedside table and then grabbing at your hips and pulling your body up. you’re nervous now and he can see it. he’s eaten you out plenty of times but this is different, but all he wants to do is watch your body writhe and jerk on top of him as you ride his tongue. he knows what his words do to you so he speaks again, “wanna taste that pretty pussy so bad, baby. please let me, wanna make you feel so good. want you to cum all over my face.”

you can’t help but moan as you nod your head, letting him lead you up until you’re hovering right over his mouth. you don’t want to look down, can’t handle that yet, so you close your eyes and grab the headboard. his hands go under your thighs and he grabs your hips once more. 

his tongue licks a broad stripe up your clothed cunt, making sure to apply extra pressure to your throbbing clit. you gasp as your head involuntarily drops down and your hips rock onto his face. his lips wrap around the sensitive nub and he sucks and you can’t help but to let out a loud moan. it feels so good, somehow even better than normal but you’re sure it’s because this is something new. 

he’s still licking over your panties, full on making out with your clothed pussy, and something about that makes you roll your hips again. it’s incredibly dirty, but you can’t find it in you to care - and neither can james apparently, as he lets out content sighs and moans as he eats you out. but eventually, you need more, your panties need to go and you need to feel his wet tongue and warm mouth all over you.

you whimper loudly as you bring a hand down to his head to grab his hair. “more please, I need - oh,” you moan as he hooks a finger into your underwear, pulling it to the side as he finally makes direct contact with your cunt. you’re dripping, and it’s all over his face and james doesn’t think he’s ever been happier. his tongue dips into you, licks around inside, before he brings it back out to lay flat on your clit. then he stops, eyes blinking open to look up at you. you whine when he doesn’t continue. “james,” you cry, “please.”

“ride my tongue,” he says, voice muffled against your pussy. you throw your head back as you whimper, and james can feel the way your cunt clenches due to his words. 

you don’t argue - mainly because you simply can’t speak - and you begin to slowly move your hips back and forth. it feels so good and moans leave your mouth every time you jerk forward. you circle your cunt on his tongue, and james groans loudly, hands squeezing the plush of your thighs. you’re full on humping his face now, hips speeding up as you chase your orgasm. you can feel it in your lower tummy, getting so tight and your vision is getting spotty. you can feel all the ridges of his tongue against your clit, and the tip of his tongue catches on it as you rear back and you cry out. your legs are shaking and your thighs are burning from holding yourself up and you need to cum now. 

it takes one more thrust against james’ mouth before your body jerks, and your hips stutter as you grip the headboard tightly between your hands, riding out your orgasm. your moans are loud, louder than they’ve ever been, and james is painfully hard beneath his pants. 

once your vision clears and the waves of pleasure subside, you get up from your spot over his face, and you crawl back until your mouth is on top of his, kissing him hard. his face is soaked and it makes you moan against his lips as you taste yourself. you fist his shirt between your hands before you lean back, taking james with you so you can finally get his clothes off. 

once you’ve pulled his shirt over his head, you throw it behind you, focusing on the zipper to his jeans. you yank his pants down, not even bothered with getting them off completely as you just want him in your mouth already. you push his upper body back down so he’s lying there, head on his pillow, watching you as you put your lips to his cock through his boxers. he hisses as you poke your tongue out, licking along the length of it. you would tease him more, you really would, but you’re impatient and he did just give you a mind blowing orgasm with his mouth just few seconds ago. so instead you put your fingers in the waist band of his boxers, pulling them down and you can’t help the moan that escapes you as his cock slaps against his stomach. he’s so incredibly hard - you can’t help but think that it must be so uncomfortable: it’s red and pre cum just keeps bubbling out of the tip; it’s already made a small puddle on james’ abdomen and your mouth waters at the sight. 

you wrap your hand around the base of james’ dick, giving it a little squeeze as you pick it up. you lean forward, placing a kiss right over the puddle of pre cum that’s on his stomach. you suck it up, swallowing before licking over the spot to make sure you get it all. your eyes are closed and you hear james let out a breathy chuckle as he mumbles quietly, “tease.” 

you pout, you wanna make him moan and curse and you want to taste more of the warm and salty liquid from your boyfriend’s cock. you lick the head of his dick, knowing how sensitive his slit is. you pay extra attention there, collecting more of his pre cum before you put the whole head in your mouth and suck lightly. 

james arches his back, whispering a quiet fuck. you continue to suckle at the head of his cock, he’s big and it’s easier for you to focus on the head with your mouth while your hands travel up and down the rest. james is breathing heavier now, and you reach up and grab his hand in your own to bring it down to your head. he understands what you want and he fists your hair in a make-shift pony tail as you start to lower your mouth on his cock even more. you start a steady rhythm up and down, using your hands on the parts that you can’t reach.

“oh fuck,” james pants. “just like that.” his hands grip your hair tighter and the throbbing of your cunt returns and you squeeze your thighs together to help quell it. he pulls your head up and off his cock and you whine as you look up at him. “spit on it,” he tells you. 

you lean up gathering saliva at the front of your mouth before pursing your lips and letting it drip out of your mouth and onto the tip of his dick. it twitches in your hand and you look back up to him for permission to continue. james nods, and so you go back down to take him into your mouth once more. you suck harder and james grunts, “love that fucking mouth,” he says, and it’s strained, and you moan around his cock and he groans louder. you love the praise he gives you, you want more of it, so you start to go faster, running your tongue along the vein that runs on the underside of his dick. you twist your hand right under his tip as you suck, and james drops his head back with a loud moan that has your cunt clenching around nothing. 

he pulls on your hair and you come off his cock with an obscenely loud pop! and under normal circumstances you would be extremely embarrassed, but at the current moment, with the dull throb in your core, you can’t find it in yourself to care. “get up here,” he orders. 

you crawl up his body until you put your pussy directly under his cock, and you can’t help but to grind into him as your lips meet in a messy kiss. every thing is just so wet - your mouths with saliva, your core with your slick and spit from james’ cock, and both of your bodies are shining with perspiration from your strenuous activities.

“please,” you whine. his cockhead is catching your clit just right on every roll of your hips and you feel tears well up in your eyes as the pull in your tummy grows. 

“please what?” james asks, and he seems to be much more put together than you in this moment. you pout, looking at him as you move your hips in a circle, and james closes his eyes and lets out a deep sigh. “tell me,” he whispers, hands roaming to your ass and pulling you harder onto him. 

“want you,” you say, your voice a breathy whimper. 

“yeah?” he asks, like he had no idea. his hips thrust up into yours and your eyes nearly roll back as you nod your head furiously. 

“yeah,” you say, “wanna feel you in me.” and james can’t help the groan that leaves him, can’t help the way his cock twitches and threatens to explode his seed between the two of you. 

you continue, wanting to get your point across that you needed him to fuck you now, “you played so good today. wanna make you feel good.” you ended your plea with another circle of your hips, leaning down to capture james’ bottom lip in your mouth. you bite down, not hard, just enough to leave indents in the sensitive skin, and you pull it back. you let go while you look into his eyes as you keep circling your hips. at this point, james is steadily meeting your thrusts, with a tight hold on your back side as he humps up into you. both of you are panting and you know you don’t need to do any further convincing.

“hands and knees,” james says and you waste no time getting in position, your panties are still on, so james sits on his knees behind you and you arch your back, pushing your ass towards him. 

you feel a sharp smack against the flesh there, and you fall forward onto your elbows as you cry out. you turn your head to look back with a pout on your face as james slips his fingers under the waist band of your underwear and tugs them down your legs. you help him remove them all the way before he brings a hand back to your sopping cunt. he inserts his middle finger and you moan at the stretch. the sound it makes as he pumps his finger into you is obscene and you feel your cheeks heat up even more as you bury your face into james’ pillow. you feel lips meet the base of your spine as james places a sweet kiss there, and he starts sucking as he inserts another finger. it goes in without any resistance - you’re so turned on you could probably take his cock without needing his fingers first, but james is a sucker for foreplay and you can’t really say you mind at all. 

“so fucking wet,” james whispers, and you think he’s talking more to himself than anything, eyes zoned in on how you cunt stretches around his thick fingers. and you are wet, soaking really; it’s running down your thighs and is covering james’ hand, and he fucking loves it. 

you’re moaning loudly now, his fingers hitting the sensitive spot inside you that only he can reach; little ah, ah, ah’s leaving your mouth in time with the thrusts of his fingers. 

suddenly they’re gone, and you’re whining loudly, but james just ignores you as he pumps his cock, spreading the wetness you left in his palm over himself before he lines it up with your fluttering pussy. “you want it, baby?” he taunts and you mewl, back arching because of course you want it. 

you tell him this: “yes, please, fuck me.” the tears are back, threatening to spill as james runs his cock up and down your folds, hitting your clit and smirking as he watches your body jerk. he decides not to torture you more, decides you’ve been good, so he slowly pushes his cock inside, watching the way your pussy sucks him in.

“s’this what you wanted, baby?” he asks as he fills you completely, hips flush to your ass. you clench around his cock intentionally, hoping he takes that as an answer because you genuinely don’t think you can speak right now. your brain is mush and all you can focus on is the way his cock presses against your walls. you want him to move, to fuck you into his mattress so hard that your throat is raw from screaming and your hips are bruised from his tight grasp. you whine when he doesn’t move, and you push against him. 

his right hand travels up your spine to grip the back of your neck, holding you down as his left wraps around your front to find your neglected clit. he still hasn’t moved, and your cunt keeps fluttering around him as he circles the sensitive bud. 

“oh,” you gasp, and the hand on your neck is holding you down, his hips flush against you keep you from moving so you can’t do anything except feel the way his fingers circle your clit, the burning in your stomach growing tighter. “please,” you sob, the tears have fallen now, making a wet patch on james’ pillow as you try to move your hips. 

and james finally takes pity on you, your cunt clenching incredibly tight around him and he can’t take it anymore. he leans back to grab your hips with both hands as he pulls almost all the way out before slamming back in. your upper body shoots forward with the force of his thrust and your eyes shut tightly as you feel his cock reach the deepest parts of you. he doesn’t let up, continues the violent rhythm of fucking you into his mattress and it’s exactly what you wanted. it’s overwhelming, the pleasure, and you can’t do anything except moan loudly and hope that the music downstairs is loud enough to drown you out. 

“love this fucking cunt,” james growls, eyes glued to the spot where he goes in and out. it’s dirty, and so fucking hot and he is so fucking close to cumming. “you know that?” he asks you, but how the fuck are you supposed to answer when the only thing leaving your mouth are sobs. you’re shaking again, legs weak as james mercilessly pounds into your soaking pussy. 

“please,” you beg again. you need to cum; orgasm bubbling in your stomach as his cock repeatedly hits the sensitive spot inside you. 

“wanna cum baby?” james speaks, his fingers finding your clit and toying with it once more. “gonna cum for me like a good girl, huh?” 

and it’s the pet name that does it for you because yes you want to be a good girl for him, the best girl, and you cry out his name as you cum on his cock, whiny moans leaving your mouth because james doesn’t stop moving, still needs to chase his release. you can hear him panting, hear the sound of his hips slapping your ass with each thrust, and you tighten your core around him even more.

“oh fuck,” he groans, throwing his head back. his eyes are closed now, focusing on the way your cunt clenches around his cock. it’s wet and so warm and he’s almost there. “gonna cum,” he pants, “gonna cum in this tight fucking pussy.” 

you moan again at how desperate he sounds, “please, please, please,” you beg, pushing your hips back to meet his thrusts. 

“shit,” james hisses, and then he’s cumming; spilling into you as his hips press flush against your ass. you moan at the feeling of it, squeezing his cock and milking him for all he’s worth. 

james pulls out, collapsing on the bed beside you as you let your knees out from under you, laying on your stomach. the only sound in the room is your heavy breathing and the faint thumping of music from downstairs. 

he turns on his side, putting his hand on your back to stroke up and down soothingly. you turn your head to face him, seeing that he’s put his glasses back on and you’re met with a cocky smile. “that was good, huh?” he asks, smirk wide as he winks at you. 

you laugh, because duh, it was good, and you think james has a praise kink almost as much as you. instead of answering verbally, you lean over and plant a sweet kiss against his lips. he cups your face, running his thumb across your cheek as you pull back. “thanks for my surprise, baby,” he says quietly.

your eyes widen as you sit up, completely forgetting the treats you had brought for james from your room. “what? that wasn’t your surprise.” 

you lean over the bed to find your pants and dig out the present you got for james. you set them in his lap as you get underneath the covers. “that’s your surprise.” 

james is stunned, picks up the new candies he told you he discovered. “oh,” he says. “I thought hot sex was my surprise.” he’s blushing now, and you laugh softly as you lean forward and place a sweet peck on his cheek. 

“the sex was a bonus,” you tease him, “but I wanted to get these for you because I remember you said you liked them. I know things have been hard lately with school and all, and I know this doesn’t really help or anything but -” 

james cuts off your rambling as he grabs your head to bring your lips back down to his. his glasses bump your face and he smiles into the kiss, and you lean back to look at him. 

“I love you,” he says quietly. “thank you for everything.” 

you smile back, and you roll to lay on top of him again as you say, “I love you too.” 

[mochegato]

Even the Losers

Chapter 9

Chapter 1     Chapter 8

Marinette stopped a few feet from the corner of the restaurant at which M. Wayne had made their reservation in order to collect herself. She checked her reflection in the restaurant’s darkened windows to make sure nothing had changed in the past few minutes. It wasn’t that she wanted to impress M. Wayne, but she didn’t want to make him think less of her either.  She wanted to be perfect for him and yeah, maybe, she wanted to impress him, make him want to stay… this time.

She brushed her bangs out of her face a little rougher than she intended to, trying to force those thoughts out of her head and punish herself for thinking them in the first place.  This wasn’t about making him like her.  She lived this long without him.  She didn’t need him.  She’d be just fine without him.  She had been so far.  It didn’t matter if he didn’t love her.  It didn’t matter if he didn’t like her.  It didn’t mean she was unloveable.  

She watched as her reflection deflated.  It just meant that one of the two people who were biologically programmed to love her no matter what, didn’t.  That he fought through biology to brush her off. She shook her head and stood straight up again.  But! But, that didn’t make her unloveable.  Jagged did the same to Luka and Juleka and they were two of the most amazing people she knew.  They weren’t unloveable, and neither was she. They repaired their relationship and so could she.

This was about adding to her family, not filling a hole in her life.  There was no Bruce Wayne shaped hole in her life.  His opinion of her didn’t matter.  His opinion of her didn’t change who she was.  She was going to be who she was around him and if he didn’t like it, she lost nothing.  She would still have an amazing family.  She would still have amazing friends.  She would still be loved.

This was about him fitting into her life.  Not the other way around.  This was about her deciding if there was a place for him.  If she wanted him there, to give him a chance or not.  This was about getting answers so she could make those decisions.  She took a breath.  This was about giving him a chance to speak and for her to listen to what he said.

She nodded to her reflection resolutely and pushed through the doors to the restaurant’s waiting area.  Her eyes widened incrementally seeing the lobby. It screamed luxury and exclusivity. Only certain people were allowed here and Marinette was confident if she hadn’t been meeting Bruce Wayne, she wouldn’t be considered one of those people.  The maître d’ eyed her with a sneer that looked so at home on his face it must have been his normal expression.

She gave him a nervous smile.  “I’m here for a reservation under the name Wayne.”  The maître d’ looked her up and down and gave a curt nod.  He walked toward the doors to the dining room without saying anything to her.

Marinette smoothed down her hair one last time as the maître d’ led her through the doors to the dining area.  She clutched her purse so tightly her knuckles were turning white.  She really hoped Tikki had found a different spot to hide in, because otherwise it had to be incredibly uncomfortable for her. Marinette was focusing all of her tension into her hand and forcing the rest of her body to relax so she wouldn’t appear as terrified as she actually was.  Now if she could just get her heart to start beating in a regular rhythm, she’d be all set.

She gave a nervous smile to Bruce as he stood to greet her and struggled to remember any part of the pep talk she had just given herself a few minutes ago. Because as soon as she saw his relieved and excited face, she started forgetting.  It was not about wanting to see that expression on his face and knowing she was the cause.  This was about her.  She should not be filled with anxiety about making him lose that expression and wanting to walk away.  He was proving himself, she wasn’t proving herself.

“Marinette!”  He gave her a warm smile and held his hand out to shake hers while she went in for a cheek kiss greeting at the same time.  He chuckled awkwardly and quickly shifted his hand to her arm as he kissed her cheek as well.  He nodded to the maître d’ and pulled her chair out for her.  As soon as they were alone, he sat down anxiously.  “Thank you again for agreeing to meet me.  You look nice.”

Marinette smiled and nodded to him.  “So do you.  And thank you for agreeing at such short notice.”

He chuckled nervously.  His eyes darted between her, his glass of wine, the menu, really anything as he searched for his next words.  It shouldn’t be this hard.  He spoke to boardrooms of hostile and dangerous businesspeople.  Speaking to his daughter shouldn’t be harder.  She wasn’t going to destroy a city.  She wasn’t going to undermine entire groups of people just so she could make a few more dollars.  She wasn’t dangerous… well, not to anyone but him.  With him, she had the power to destroy his heart with just one word.

“I ordered a merlot if you would like some.  If not, I can call someone in…”

He started to get up to call someone over, but Marinette lunged at him to get him to sit down and not draw attention to them, knocking over his glass of merlot. Marinette’s eyes widened in horror. “Oh no, no, no, no,” she whimpered helplessly.  She grabbed a few napkins to clean it up.  Why?  Why did her clumsiness have to act up now?  In front of M. Wayne.  Why did she have to be such a klutz?  She could feel the tears stinging her eyes as they tried to escape.

“Marinette,” Bruce cooed gently.  He gently gripped her wrists and pulled them away from the table.  “Marinette, it’s okay.  It happens.  You should see a normal dinner at the manor.  If there isn’t at least one spill or something isn’t broken, we start thinking someone is sick.”  She finally looked up at him apprehensively and he could feel the breath leaving his chest. His eyes softened and he tried to give her an encouraging smile.  “It’s fine. We can just move to another table and I’ll leave a big tip.”

Her eyes widened even larger and she looked around.  “We can’t just…”  She stopped when she noticed the empty restaurant.  It was prime dinnertime, or at least it was in France.  Maybe a bit early, but not uncommon.  But this restaurant was completely empty.  Not even families with kids.  And there was no way M. Wayne would choose a restaurant that nobody liked.  “Do Gothamites eat dinner really early?  Or really late?” she whispered, not wanting to break the silence that engulfed them.

“Hmm?” Bruce hummed in confusion.

“There aren’t any… It just isn’t as crowded as I would expect,” she explained. “Not that that doesn’t work in my favor in this case.”

“Oh,” he nodded his head in realization and gave her a soft smile. “No, not as crowded as the place usually is.  I rented it out.”

“You rented out the entire restaurant?” she whispered incredulously. “At the last minute?”

Bruce’s smile widened at the astonished look on her face.  “I didn’t want people gawking at us all night or taking pictures and the manor is rather hectic.”  He grimaced slightly at the thought.  “Not to mention, we’d have just as many gawkers there.  And I wanted this first meeting to be just between us.  So I made sure we had some privacy.”

Marinette shook her head.  “Right. Forgot.  Rich.”

Bruce chuckled too.  “Yeah, I forget sometimes too.”  He sat at a table next to the one they had been sitting at.

Marinette scoffed lightly and joined him at the new table.  “I doubt that.”  She slapped her hand over her mouth, her eyes going wide as she stared at him. “Sorry.  I’m sorry.  That was… so rude,” she stuttered.  She dropped her eyes quickly.  She mentally berated herself for sabotaging this so efficiently.  She doubted she could do it more effectively if she were trying.

Bruce shook his head.  “No, not at all.  You’re not wrong.  And a lot more polite about it than Jason would have been.  Or Stephanie.”

Marinette looked back up at him through her bangs.  “Oh… um… okay.”

Bruce squeezed his eyes shut behind his menu.  He was screwing this up so badly.  Instead of making her feel more comfortable, he was making her increasingly nervous and doubtful.  He pursed his lips as he searched for anything to talk about to lighten the mood. “I hope you like it here.  The food is really good.”  He had to stop himself from physically slapping himself for that terrible non-sequitur.  His entire job was to say things in an engaging, elegant way.  It was a skill he’d started honing decades ago.  Where was that training now?

Marinette opened her menu as well with an anxious smile.  “Great.  I’m starving.”

“Hi Starving, I’m your father.”

Marinette blinked a few times at him, trying to catch his eye but he was staring blankly at his menu.  “Did you just…”

“I admit to nothing,” he answered flatly, still staring at his menu.  

Marinette continued to stare for a few seconds before breaking down into giggles, the tension that had been building since she entered the restaurant breaking with his joke.  “I… I can’t… believe you sai… said that,” she gasped out between laughs.

He watched her with an amused glint in his eyes and a relieved smile.  “Do not tell your siblings.  Dick will pout for a week that he wasn’t here to hear it.”

Marinette let her giggles die down and nodded.  She looked up at him with a much more relaxed smile.  “Not known for your sense of humor?”

“No, definitely not,” Bruce shook his head with a grin.  He set down his menu to focus on Marinette.  “Jason used to tease me mercilessly about it.”

Marinette quirked her head to the side, an amused smile pulling at the corners of her mouth.  “And was Jason a comedian or he just liked to tease you?”

“A little of both.  Dick is more of our comedian.  He’s usually the first to make a joke… to lighten the mood.  Stephanie will make a fool out of herself to get you to smile, or herself.  She likes being over the top.  But Jason, when he was a kid, was excited about everything.  Everything in life was new and exciting.  He was constantly smiling and bouncing from thing to thing. So optimistic.”  Bruce’s eyes unfocused as he remembered the first year after Jason came to the manor.

Marinette furrowed her brow in doubt.  Not a single one of those words were ones she would use to describe Jason from the time she’d spent with him.  Maybe her translation of the words was wrong?  “Jason?  Jason Todd. Your son Jason.”

Bruce chuckled wryly.  “Yes, that Jason. “  A pained expression flashed across his face morphing into a sad frown he didn’t even try to hide.  “A lot changed over the years.  Some… things happened about eight years ago.  It changed all of us.”

Marinette let out a dry laugh as images of Hawaiian shirts and rock giants flashed through her head.  She turned back to her menu to avoid his eyes.  “I can understand that.”

Bruce furrowed his brow, a guilty frown settling on his lips for a few seconds before he plastered on a smile.  “Now he’s more likely to make a sarcastic remark than a joke.  But, he’s fiercely protective of his family, maybe more than any of the rest of us.”

Marinette thought back over their interactions and slowly started nodding. “He seems like it.”  She paused when the waitress came in to take their orders. She smiled politely while the waitress was in the room, acting the part of a dutiful, happy daughter rather than a temperamental stranger who took her frustrations and insecurities out on him without letting him explain.  And that’s what this was about, letting him explain.  But before he could do that, she needed to make sure he knew she wasn’t mad. Well… that she wasn’t going to attack him anyway.

As soon as the waitress left, her shield was gone.  She could no longer hide behind the façade.  Now she had to face him.  She looked down and squeezed her eyes shut.  She took a beat before she looked back up at Bruce.  “I wanted to say sorry for how I behaved when you came to my hotel room.  I wasn’t being fair to you.  I only found out about you a few days ago and then the world found out and then you were at my door.  It was a lot all at once and I did not handle it well, so I’m sorry.”  

Even with half her face hidden from looking down as she spoke, Bruce could see the shame radiating from her expression.  When she finally looked up to make eye contact he had to force himself not to gasp at the guilt and pain in her eyes.  His heart clenched at the sight.  He hated seeing her look like that. He’d do anything to keep that look off her face.  That was his job.  That was the entire point of what he’d done.  But he failed.  He might have failed at it so far, but he was going to make up for it now… if she would let him.

His hand shot out almost too quickly to see and gently squeezed hers, hoping that at least that level of intimacy was allowed.  “No, I invaded your space.  I forced a confrontation before you were ready.  I knew I shouldn’t do that.  Sabine… your mother warned me not to do that and I did it anyway.  I’m sorry for that.  I didn’t… I didn’t want to lose my chance to…”  He looked down at the table and frowned trying to get his words in order.  

“I didn’t want you to leave before I could talk to you, to try to connect and explain.”  He looked at her almost desperately.  “You were here, right here.  So close. I couldn’t let you slip through my fingers again, not when I knew you knew.  Not when I didn’t have to keep it a secret anymore.”  He frowned and looked down at his glass, pulling his hand back into his lap.  He suddenly chuckled wryly.  “If there was ever a good reason to begin with.”

Marinette sucked in a breath not ready for this conversation yet.  She thought they’d ease into it.  Get comfortable, then get into it.  But apparently M. Wayne’s approach was to rip the Band-Aid off. Dealing with uncomfortable situations was definitely not an inherited trait because her method of avoiding any uncomfortable conversations in increasingly unlikely and embarrassing manors until the entire thing festered into a debilitating, unnecessarily explosive fiasco, was not a technique she picked up from her maman either.

Bruce looked back up at her with a determined look.  “Marinette, you had a right to react.  You had… have a right to be upset or hurt or both.  I deserved it.  Believe me, I understand that.  I’ve gotten worse from your siblings for less.  Don’t feel like you have to apologize to me.  However you react, I can take it and I’m not going to walk away again.  But I am hoping that you being here means you want to move forward, you want to try.”  He looked up at her questioningly, an edge of fear in his eyes.  “Do you?”

Marinette let out the breath she’d taken in.  She looked down and pushed a strand of hair that was still in place behind her ear, letting her fingers linger so she had something else to focus on for a moment.  When she looked back up, there was a more determined look in her eyes.  “Yes.  I… I want to listen.  I want to understand.”

Bruce nodded with a grateful smile.  “Thank you.  I know this is a lot and it hasn’t been fair to you and I’m sorry for… everything.”  

Marinette nodded.  “Thank you.” They both sat and looked in the vicinity of each other uneasily, both waiting for the other to say something first. Marinette tapped her fingers together while she waited for him to continue speaking, to give the explanation he’d promised.

Bruce was waiting for… he wasn’t sure.  Inspiration maybe.  He’d thought through what he wanted to say.  He’d gone over it all, but somehow seeing her in front of him, looking in her eyes and seeing her vulnerability laid bare, none of his excuses seemed like enough.  None of them seemed valid, but then again, they never were.

After a few minutes of silence, he finally spoke up.  “When you were born, I was younger than you are now and I didn’t think I’d be able to be a good father.”  He frowned at the table.  “And in my head it was better for you to not be with me at all.  I thought I’d bring you down.  But your mother…” he gave her a wan smile, “she was always strong and good. I knew she would be an amazing mother… without my interference.  I thought you had a better chance away from me and Gotham and in my idiot mind that meant cutting off all contact.”

“But you took in other kids,” she pointed out timidly.

Bruce nodded and flicked his eyes up to hers before looking back down in guilt. “I didn’t intend to.  I came across Dick about awhile after your mother took you to France.  He lost his parents.  They died, were killed in front of his eyes, like mine had been.  He was angry and violent.  He needed someone and I thought I could help.  I might not be a good parent, but I could help him… keep him from becoming… me.”

Marinette’s brow furrowed sympathetically.  “Would that be bad?”

Bruce cringed slightly, remembering how he was at the time.  “Yes, it would have.  Anger and desperation?  They can do bad things to a person.”  He looked at her pointedly.  “Makes you make terrible decisions.”

Marinette nodded in understanding.  She understood how far desperation could drive a person.  She understood how dark some people could go. She understood how bad things could get if they continued unchecked.  She’d fought those people.  She’d helped defeat one of them.  And no matter how bad the battle was, it was always harder handling them after they were defeated, when all they had was their grief.

“Jason… he came a few years later.  He was alone and on the streets.  He was tough and smart and so excited about life, but he was never going to get the opportunity to do anything on the streets.”

“And you wanted to help him too,” Marinette finished his unfinished thought.

“Yeah. He needed someone to let him be a kid, let him be passionate, to love him like a parent should.  And I couldn’t leave him there.  And Tim… he kind of snuck in and declared himself family.  He wasn’t wrong.  He is.  He came along after Jason… was gone.  He filled a void I didn’t even know I had until he stepped in.  And I hope I’ve done the same for him.  He didn’t have the best childhood either.  And now… I can’t imagine the family without him.”

Marinette gave him a small smile.  “Sounds like he adopted you.”

Bruce nodded absently, his eyes taking on a far-off focus as he remembered the past. “Sometimes children are smarter than their parent.  In the case of my kids,” he looked up at her meaningfully, “all of them, it’s true.

“They didn’t have a better choice… you did.  And in my idiotic self-destructive mind, I was helping you.  I was convinced for more than a decade that the best thing I’d done in my life, the most selfless, was walk away from you, not force you to have to suffer with dealing with me.  But I was just afraid and selfish.  I made a stupid choice.  By the time I realized how monumentally I’d screwed up, Jason was gone and by the time I got my head back on right, Damian was here and Damian needed all my attention.”

“You didn’t have Damian since he was a baby?”

Bruce shook his head.  “No.  I didn’t even know about him until he was ten. Then his mother just dropped him off with me.  His childhood…” Bruce let out a long breath.  “His grandfather taught him since birth that he needed to earn love, or as close as he’s capable to love.  Damian’s mother told him he was better than everyone else… so you can imagine the kinds of issues we had for quite a while.”

He gave a proud smile.  “He’s made such a big change since he came.  He’s grown so much.”

“You sound proud,” she observed poignantly.

Bruce’s smile turned bittersweet.  “I’m proud of all of my kids.  You’re all amazing people.  I don’t know how I ended up with so many amazing kids.”

She smiled and hoped it didn’t come off as awkward as it felt.  “So what about Duke?  And I think Jason mentioned sisters.”

Bruce nodded.  “Cass is the only one I adopted.  Stephanie is just around enough that she’s essentially a child.  Same with Barbara.  I ran into Cass while I was travelling.  Her parents were mentally and physically abusive to the point that she didn’t speak until she was a teenager.”  Marinette gasped.  “She’s a lot better.  She communicates with us a lot, mostly through sign language.  And Duke… Joker tortured his parents because they saved me once.”

Marinette gasped and grasped his hand, squeezing it.  When he met her eyes she gave him another encouraging squeeze and a warm smile.  “They’ve all come such a long way.  I’m sure a better parent could have done more but somehow we’ve all become a slightly dysfunctional family.  Watching them… It’s amazing to see how far they’ve all come.  They’ve all had to fight so hard, go against so many obstacles.”

“It sounds like you’ve done a lot of work with all of them.  And they’ve grown amazingly with you watching over them. They were incredibly lucky to have you,” Marinette said quietly a strained smile on her face, no longer making eye contact with Bruce.  She took back her hand to take a drink of her wine.

Those were valid reasons.  She could admit that and she didn’t begrudge them the better life being with M. Wayne afforded them, but still…  She fought frowning at her lap.  It all made sense.  Every step made sense.  They needed someone and he could provide, so he did.  From an objective perspective.  It made sense.  Did it make her a bad person if that didn’t make her feel better?  What did it say about her that she was still hurt?  That she still was angry, felt betrayed?  That it wasn’t enough?

Bruce’s face fell as he watched her change in demeanor.  His chest clenched.  “I never stopped thinking about you and how you were doing.  I never stopped loving you.”  He reached out for her hand but let his hand dropped when she didn’t offer it readily.  “I know you don’t feel that way about me, you just met me, but I’ve loved you from the moment you were born.  And I know it’s hard to see and I don’t show it well… at all… but I’ve always tried to make sure you were taken care of, that you never wanted for anything. I’ve kept up on your life to make sure.

“And I need you to know it was never because I didn’t want you.  It was never that I thought my other kids were better than you in any way.  It was never because I didn’t think you were good enough. I didn’t think I was.  I thought you deserved better than I could ever give you, better than you could get in Gotham.  But running away wasn’t the way to do that, and I realize that.”  He was unsure how to interpret the wide eyed look Marinette was giving him, but he plowed on, needing to say it anyway.

“I really did intend to try to connect.  That’s why I went to your final showing.  I showed pictures of your work to someone on the fabric project and said I happened to see you there.”  He chuckled lightly and shook his head.  “I thought I’d have to do a bunch of conniving behind the scenes to get Lucius to use you.  But as it turns out, he’s just as excited to get you on the project as I was.  He mentioned you to me after you spoke with him.”

Marinette smiled.  It was small and self-conscious, but significantly better for Bruce to see than the strained smile she’d had earlier.  “M. Fox is a very nice man.  I liked speaking with him a lot.”  

“And he is quite fond of you.”  Bruce smiled fondly at her but his smile quickly turned conspiratorial.  “I think he likes you better than he likes me, actually.”

Marinette straightened up in her seat.  “I plan on accepting his offer to consult on the project.”  She looked up to make eye contact with Bruce.  Her body tensed slightly in preparation for her next words.  “If… if that’s okay with you.”

Marinette gave a small, uncertain smile when she saw Bruce’s brilliant smile. “Yes!  That’s great to hear.”  His face turned serious.  “What does that mean for… do you want to…”

“I was hoping to take you up on the apartment offer as well… if that’s still an option.”  Marinette looked down again, her anxiety back.  “It will help Max while he settles in and I thought I could use it while I figure out how the project is going to work and what the requirements on my time will be.”  She tapped her fingers together, unable to control her fidgeting.  She looked up nervously.  “I thought it would also give us a chance to see each other more and your other kids.”

“Absolutely.  It is absolutely still available.  If you want your own apartment, I can get a penthouse for you.  Or you’re welcome to stay at the manor,” he rambled excitedly.

“M. Wayne,” Marinette interrupted.  Bruce immediately sobered at her serious expression.  “I don’t need special treatment.  I don’t need you to buy me things.  And I don’t know how long I’ll be in town.  Adrien and I are trying to figure out where we want to set up and I’ll need to start taking commissions again.”

Bruce nodded.  “I understand.  Sorry. I got excited and got carried away. Rich, you know… it’s how we show love.”

Marinette’s face immediately soured as she thought of Adrien’s and Chloe’s childhoods. “That’s not love you’re showing. I’m staying to get to know you and your family, not get things.”

Bruce blinked at her a few times.  “Right. I know that.  I never thought it was,” he assured her awkwardly.  He took a sip of his wine and glanced around the room. He suddenly perked up.  “Speaking of commissions, I was hoping we could finally commission you… if that’s okay!” he added quickly.  “I don’t want to put pressure on you.  I’ve just been waiting to get something made by you for years.”

Marinette blinked a few times and looked down.  Her brow furrowed.  She fought letting out a sigh.  “No, you’re right.  I should.”

“We’ll pay you, of course,” he insisted.

Marinette rolled her eyes.  “I’m not going to charge you to make something for you.”

Bruce shook his head.  “You run a business.  I’m commissioning the business.  I can cover our commission.”

Marinette huffed and narrowed her eyes at him.  “Compromise.  You pay for materials.  Nothing more.”

Bruce narrowed his eyes back at her.  “Materials and time.”

Marinette huffed out a laugh.  “Okay fine.”

Bruce grinned.  “I’m excited to work with you.  I wasn’t kidding.  I’ve wanted to commission you for years.  I’m a fan of your style and art.”

Marinette opened her mouth but closed it quickly when the waitress came back in with their food.  Bruce leaned back so she could set the plates down.  “Speaking of, how would you feel about going to the art museum tomorrow and then maybe get some lunch after?”

Marinette nodded.  “Oh yeah, there was an exhibit that looked interesting.”  She nodded to the waitress and thanked her.  The waitress lingered for just a moment before leaving the room.

“Would 9 work for you? Oh, no wait.” He scrunched his face in annoyance.  “I have a meeting at 10.  It should be done by noon though.”  He looked up and gave her an earnest look.  “I’ll make sure it is done by noon.  How about lunch then art museum?”

Marinette smiled and nodded.  “That sounds good.”

“Great.  I can bring the keys for the new apartment.  Now, I’ve done all the talking.  Tell me more about you.  Tell me about your friends.”  He took a bite giving Marinette his full attention while Marinette talked about her friends and how they had all met and some stories about their time together.  

She started out slowly, building up more confidence as she spoke.  The more she spoke the more comfortable she was with what she wanted to say.  The quicker she was able to filter out what information she didn’t want to share. She wasn’t ready to give him much yet, not enough to do anything with, not more than he could probably get from searching Instagram or Tik Tok, but it was a start.  A start to what exactly, she wasn’t sure.  But it was a start to something.

Tags:

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[daddysdem0n]

air element correspondences

Air: the elusive element

Air is the element of the intelect, of the thought, a powerful tool for change, the movement in all its forms; the impetus. It rules spells involving travels, instruction, freedom, knowledge, discovering lost items, and can also be used to develop psychic faculties.

The air describes how words are spread far and wide, air can be gentle or fierce, damp or dry, hot or cold, and each of these moods has slightly different magickal connotation

The wind beneath your spells

We see a fair amount of directional wind work in spellcraft

Perform a magick for new projects with the wind at your back it’s good fortune

When trying to quell anger opening a window to air out the negative energy has a great symbolic value

Animals: Cow - Bull - Bison - Snake - Dog - Horse - Ant - Bears - Wolf

Characteristics of the air element - It relates to flexibility instability, intellect and detachment. You can also use it to contact spirits or other nonphysical beings. Magicians link it with mental activity, communication and social interaction

Colors- yellow, gold, white, light blue

Connect with air- connecting with air is a key to clear mind and finding inner wisdom. Spend time outside and feel the breeze hang wind chimes around your home, complete a creative project, meditate. Connect with air by feeling it fill your lungs and breathe your life into you

Crystals- topaz, amber, citrine, jasper, agate, aventurine, opal, quartz, amethyst

Cycle of life- infancy

Direction- east

Energy- projective

- Mental energy- air is the most elusive element because it’s invisible, intangible and changeable. The ancients believed that the wind is influenced by the direction from which is originated

Gender- masculine

Goddesses- aradia, arianrhod, cardea, nuit, urania

Gods- Enlil, kheokleva, merawrim, shu, thoth

Instruments- flute, wind instruments

Metals- tin, copper

Pentagram placement- upper left

Places- Mountaintops - Cloudy skies - Windy beaches - High towers - Airports Schools - Libraries - Offices - Travel agencies - Pschyatrist's Office.

Plants/herbs- acacia, anise, aspen, clover, frankincense, lavender, lemongrass, myrrh, pine, vervain, yarrow, primrose, dill

Ritual actions- playing flute, tossing objects in the air, burning incense, hanging objects in trees

Rules- mind, clarity, wisdom, knowledge, logic, abstract thought, wind, higher consciousness, divination, psychic work, intuition, memory

Ruling planet- Jupiter, Uranus, Mercury

Season- spring

Spirits- slyphs, zephyrs, fairies of the trees, flowers, wind

Symbols- sky, wind, trees, breezes, clouds, feathers, breath, vibrations, smoke, plants, herbs, trees, flowers

Tarot- sword/ Daggers

Time- down

Tools- feather, wand, staff, incense, censer, pen, broom, bell

Type of magick- divination, concentration, wind, magick, prophecy

Virtues & Vices

Virtues- intelligent, practical, optimistic, curious, creativity

Vices- impulsive, frivolous, gullible, flighty, and detached

Zodiac- Gemini, Libra, Aquarius