#so initiate make your twin feel better is a-go | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

fortunxa · 11 months ago

Text

Blue hair, blue eyes, blue lights

Jinx x fem!reader / modern AU

summary: The chances of a blue-haired girl being chased by the cops and hopping in my car, simply yelling “Drive!” are low, but never zero.

author’s note: It’s my first time publishing a Jinx one-shot of mine, I hope you enjoy! This is a relatively new blog, so if anyone wants to become mutuals I’m definitely open to the idea! :)

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Fourteen days.

A mere two weeks stand between me and move-in day for my freshman year of college. In other words, summer break is slowly coming to an end, and I’ve done fuck all to make it memorable.

I can feel life passing me by as I watch like a bystander. Usually, the clock is my enemy—a constant reminder of my youth running out, and, shit, I’m too young to feel that way. This time, it serves as a way to free me from the shackles of the evening shift as a front desk worker at our local gym.

The clock strikes midnight, and, like a modern-day Cinderella, I jump up from my seat and make a beeline for the exit, hurriedly clocking out. I simultaneously greet and say goodbye to the night shift going in, already halfway through the small yet relatively empty parking lot. The smell of sweaty ‘gym bros’ is long forgotten as the breeze engulfs me, my dirty sneakers thudding on the concrete. The rust on my beat-up jeep shines in the moonlight as I approach—so seductive, I snicker to myself. I toss my duffel bag in the trunk, hop behind the wheel, and start the engine. I take this moment to commence my connect-phone-to-car-or-die-trying mission and thank the universe for its successful outcome. I browse a bit through the plethora of playlists before settling on the usual one, the sound of Arctic Monkeys filling the space as I leave the parking lot.

I don’t want to go home—not yet, at least—so I settle for a late-night drive. The cookie-cutter, upper-class houses pass me by as I mindlessly cruise through the clean streets—a stark contrast to my neighborhood, where you either learn to stick up for yourself or go home crying to your mama. A place where there is more sewage sludge than trees. A place where I grew up and one I learned to love.

In the midst of it all, I don’t notice the particularly nasty bump on the road that makes my song abruptly cut off. I take a right, pulling over in an alley with an annoyed groan as I resort to phase two, also known as connect-phone-back-to-car-before-I-impulsively-crash, of my initial mission. As I fiddle with the settings, showing my inner cheek no mercy as my teeth dig into their feast, a hissing and spritzing sound comes through my open window.

I think I’m imagining things at first, that post-shift fatigue surely getting the best of me, but I spot the source of the sound rather quickly: a figure, hidden almost out of sight between the fancy houses, switching between various colors of spray paint as she defaces the picture-perfect facade with her graffiti. The sheer speed of her actions makes it look like she’s juggling.

How do I know it’s a girl? Well, although she is wearing a hat to shield her face from any surveillance cameras, a neck warmer up to her nose, and a black, oversized tracksuit already covered in pink paint splotches, her disguise was blown the moment she decided to leave her blue, ankle-length, twin braids out. I twist my neck and reach over the dashboard to try and get a better look at her work. I can barely make out the shape of a green monkey’s face before moving on to the next element. ‘Get ji-’

My reading is interrupted by the sound of sirens piercing the air and blue lights illuminating the area. Instinctively, I turn my headlights off and duck, watching the girl as she hastily packs the cans into her backpack. I swear I can see her eyes twinkle with excitement as she takes one last glance at her—presumably—finished artwork and takes off running through the gardens. Her faint giggle reaches my ears, and a bewildered smile graces my features. I wanted fun, and now it’s right in front of me. I definitely couldn’t get a clearer sign than this.

I observe as one of the cops chases after her as the other drives away, seemingly trying to cut her off. Lightbulb moment. I put the car into gear and waste no time following them from the comfort of the dark alleys, reaching the mysterious girl first through the shortcuts. I catch her contemplating her next move and, without hesitation, quickly flash my high beams at her twice. This seems to grab her attention, and I signal for her to get in with a simple nod, tapping the car door as confirmation.

To my surprise, she actually runs over and hops in the backseat, her back lying flat as she takes a swift peek through the window, and holy shit, I didn’t think that she actually would.

“Drive!” she yells through her panting, and I do. I feel my heart beating wildly against my ribcage as the blue lights appear once again in my rearview mirror. Don’t fuck this up, I think before taking a sharp left. I hear her elated squeals as I visualize the district’s roads and plan the perfect getaway.

Right.

Right, once again.

Left.

Straight down the street.

Sharp right.

I can hear the sirens getting closer as I speed through the familiar routes. It doesn’t matter that I know this area like the back of my hand; the cops probably do, too. There is only one thing left to try, and, albeit risky, it should work. They hadn’t spotted my car yet, and we were quickly approaching a busy intersection—the perfect distraction.

The tires squeak as I harshly pull into an empty driveway, turning the engine off in hopes of blending in.

“What the hell are you doing?!” the blue-haired girl grumbles with brooding eyes. I don’t reply. Instead, I shush her as I grab her waist and roll her off the seat, pushing her into the legroom before ducking underneath the steering wheel. We fall silent, holding our breaths in as the police car passes us by. I watch as they get lost in the dense traffic, a sigh of relief escaping me as I throw my head back. I climb into my seat again and take a peek at the tagger in the back, confusion crossing my features as I watch her stuff her face with candy. My candy. “Hefty stash you got back there.” Her mouth twists at the sour taste of a Warhead she picked. She seems completely unfazed by this whole situation.

I notice that she had discarded her hat and neck warmer and take the opportunity to get a better look at her: blue eyes matching her hair, light freckles splattered across her straight nose and rosy cheeks, pouty lips, her dark and expressive brows… She truly is breathtaking. I feel a blush creep up my face as she climbs over the console, wiggling her way into the passenger seat. She takes her hoodie off, revealing her black tank top, and fuck me, she has tattoos.

She faces me with a curious look herself, seemingly analyzing me too. Her gaze is difficult to decipher as her eyes trail over my figure, and I stiffen. She shoots me a knowing smile before throwing her hands around my neck and placing a kiss on my cheek. “You’re a lifesaver, toots,” she muses into my ear. The pleasant smell of paint and bubble gum hits my nose making me lick my lips. “Name’s Jinx, by the way. Stands for Jinx,” she cackles to herself, drawing her lower lip between her teeth awaiting my introduction.

I blink a couple of times, realizing how silent I’ve been throughout this whole ordeal. I can get awkward, sure, but I’m not timid, so I muster up the courage and consciously relax, trying to project a nonchalant attitude. “I’m Y/N.” I shoot her a smile of my own.

“Y/N. Hmm…” Jinx gives an approving hum as she repeats after me, my name rolling off her tongue like honey. “What made you help little ol’ me?” New observation: she’s a teaser.

“I need some excitement in my life,” I answer truthfully and she perks up with a spark in her eyes.

“Toots, you’ve just made friends with the perfect candidate to help you with that.” Her giddy attitude returns as she beams at me.

“We’re friends, huh?” I tease at her choice of words, my eyebrows raised in a cocky manner.

“Sure we are! I feel like running from the cops together is the perfect bonding experience, don’t ya?” She gives me a once-over before her mouth curves into a smirk. “Unless you want to be more than friends. That could work, too.” She winks. Her straightforwardness should make me turn crimson, but instead, it makes my confidence grow. I give a low chuckle as I shake my head in disbelief.

“Tell you what,” I begin, starting the engine and trying to connect my phone back to the car for the third time already, “let me get you home safely, and we’ll see what tomorrow brings to our friendship. Deal?” I extend my hand toward her, and she ponders my proposition. I can practically see the cogs turning in her head, her facial expressions jumping from sour to doubtful, as if she were battling her thoughts before settling on a satisfied grin.

Her soft hand reaches mine in a princess handshake, and I try not to look at her manicured nails for too long. “Deal.” The blue-haired girl snatches the phone out of my hands, adding her number to my contact list and sending a quick text to herself. Just when I think she’s giving it back, she picks a song, and I hear Arabella playing through the speakers. How fitting.

As I leave the stranger’s driveway, I sense her shuffling in the passenger seat, throwing her legs out the window. She puts her head on my lap freely, toying with the colorful charms on my keychain. In the spur of the moment, I gingerly brush her bangs behind her ear, revealing her side profile. Her gaze catches mine, and I see her eyes soften before I turn mine on the road again.

Jinx tells me her address, and I realize how close to me she lives—the perfect circumstances. I feel her lightly bobbing her head to the music as her left cheek strokes my thigh, her fingers tracing mine as they sit on the gear stick. Her demeanor feels different from the badass tagger who willingly hopped in a stranger’s car. She looks peaceful and content now.

My shoulders slump in disappointment as I park outside her house. She clicks her tongue and lazily lifts her head from the comfort of my lap. She looks around the empty streets of her neighborhood and hums, her curious eyes now shifting to mine. As we take each other in, I can’t help but gravitate toward her—her presence feels almost intoxicating, and I don’t want to part ways just yet. To my surprise, she copies my actions. She’s so close I can feel her minty breath mingle with mine. Instinctively, my gaze drops to her lips as she tentatively licks them. I let out a faint sigh, and she slowly closes the distance. I can hear my heartbeat as I wait for our lips to meet.

But they never do. “I don’t kiss on a first date,” she murmurs in my ear, and my face flushes. Jinx pulls away as she flashes me a toothy grin, and before I can even react, she’s already skipping to her front door, slinging her backpack over her shoulder. Wha-? When did she grab her stuff? I stare in disbelief as she turns around, her braids flailing behind her. “Let’s see what tomorrow brings,” she teases and blows me a kiss before disappearing into the dark hallway of her home.

Fourteen days.

Give me two weeks to make her mine.

╰┈➤ sequel – ‘Fourteen days’

518 notes · View notes

itsa-me-lily · 7 months ago

Note

God I love this au, it's feeding me so good today. The last one with the part about only one bedroom has me thinking about a sick reader, the gross kind of sick where you're sweaty and wheezy and snotty, and the fact that if it were anyone else Simon would be quarantining them. But because it's his spouse, he wakes up to you nasally wheezing and mouth breathing while sprawled across him, and all he can think about is when you're due for your next round of medicine and if he needs to buy more tissues.

Sometimes love comes coated in mucus, and is reciprocated with an artificial cherry taste. Also do the guinea pigs have names and what do they look like?

I'm dying. This is the first ever ask I've ever gotten (that I recall) and I'm going to pass away. Also "sometimes love comes coated in mucus, and is reciprocated with an artificial cherry taste" that is such a good line, I'm apologizing in advance if I steal it.

Also warning for content of being sick, this is based off my last bout of plague.

Also Also Here's the Simon & Thimble playlist

Also Also Also Here's the Military Program Spouse AU masterlist

Bedsharing in general does not happen at first. (Now I want to percolate an idea about sharing the bed for the first time). You're way to use to having your own bed that sharing with someone means you're not sleeping easily and I think Simon would rather sleep with the guinea pigs in their cage than have another human being that close to him when he sleeps. (This was also not something he initially thought about when being told a spouse was to be picked)

So what's the solution? Obviously bunk beds! Kind of, sorta...okay not really but the look on Simon's face when you had suggested getting bunk beds had been entertaining. Who knew so much indignation could come through a medical mask. Really his eyebrows did so much talking.

With the dream of bunkbeds dashed, the next best solution was either two twin beds crammed into the bedroom with a bedside's worth of space between them, or a pull out couch. You managed to find a couch same day that didn't terribly clash with the artwork you have yet to hang up.

You two actually manage to come up with a schedule for who slept where. Obviously you'd get the bed when Simon was deployed, made no sense for you not to. And when he was home the bed was all his unless he was having a night that he knew he wasn't going to trust a deadbolt to keep monsters at bay. Then he made himself comfortable, TV playing low until he managed a few hours in the early morning before you try to leave a silently as you can for work.

(Funny thing, even if you aren't sharing a bed traditionally, you both most certainly have your own sides, along with bed stands that told two different stories)

The first time you get sick is when Simon is technically deployed. Well actually, the day he returns is the day you spike a 101.8 fever and work forces you to go home so you don't become a walking petri dish and expose the college kids that come into your office.

Once you're home you appease the little beasts demanding some sort of vegetal boon, change into the rattiest clothes you have, and then huddle under a staggering amount of blankets that have made their home on your bed. (Simon may have side eyed them when you first set them out, but you've seen the mountain he creates under them, you knew the magic of weighted blankets)

Sleep isn't peaceful, you hadn't broken out the Nyquil quite yet, but you do manage to drift off for a few hours. And then the coughing starts. It's the kind that's a bitch to deal with, dry and pushing your ribs to the limit with how often they can expand and contract. By the time Simon comes home you've steamed yourself twice, taken only a smidge over the recommended amount of cough suppressant, and slathered yourself with Vic's Vaporub. All in all, you were properly miserable.

You're in the kitchen, staring into the abyss of your over-steeping tea as if it will magically make you feel better if you only sell your soul to it, really a tempting offer, when the wheeks of the pigs announce that another person they know has arrived.

If Simon wasn't clued in that something was off at seeing you home before the end of your work day, the pungent smell of menthol would have been a dead give away. You're still communing with your tea when he knocks against the wall, pulling you out of the deal for your soul to meet him with bleary eyes and a flushed face.

You croak out a greeting that makes Simon wince in sympathy, though that's about all he really does. Simon doesn't really do pleasantries and doting probably wouldn't be the first word people use to describe him, so with your brain function reduced by an overflow of mucus and fever, the kitchen was rather silent.

Until you started coughing, face buried into the crook of your elbow to try to keep your contagion to a minimum and back bowing to nearly double you over. That drives Simon to action, coming to try to keep you up incase you collapse, grabbing your free arm.

When you feel him touch you, you try to pull away, shaking your head and finally finishing your bout, gasping a little as you try to daunting task of breathing and speaking to dissuade him from getting close lest he catches what you have. He clearly wasn't persuaded, hands clenching and unclenching like he simply wanted to pick you up and put you...somewhere.

How exactly Simon Riley would take care of you, he didn't know but he'd be damned sure to at least try. He'd been left to fend for himself while sick before and he didn't like the idea of you going through that. When it was clear that he wasn't going to just leave you to your suffering you relented enough to try to reach a compromise; if he'd be alright watching the pigs while you were sick that would be more useful than a nursemaid while you camped out on the couch.

That...that was something Simon could do. He'd watched how you took care of the boys, surely this was something he could do. And then his brain caught up to the rest of what you had said. There was no way he was going to let you sleep on some pull out couch, as nice as it was. Being Sick meant sleeping in a proper bed, on a mattress that didn't spend it's days folded up.

You tried to insist it was alright but he wouldn't listen to a word of it. Instead he practically herded you back to the bedroom, ignoring your murmurs of your abandoned hot beverage. He didn't lift you to plop you onto the bed itself but it was a near thing. He had to bribe you with the promise of a proper cup of tea for you to even lay your head on your pillow, eyes already heavy with the need for sleep. By the time he had actually made a cup you were out for the count, nasally mucus filled snores letting him know you hadn't perished in the time it took him.

The next few days were filled with mucus, the attempted escape of your lungs via coughing fits, and more Vics than the human body should be exposed to. And the entire time you insisted that you could fend for yourself. Simon didn't push to play nurse, but your tissues never ran out, a dose of medication was always ready on your bedside, and a warm cup of tea stood waiting for you after each nap, like a solider committed to his guard.

Edit;

I'm going to make a separate post for the guinea pigs, because honestly I'm torn on if they're based on my guinea pigs I used to have, or guinea pigs I'd want to have in the future

#military program spouse #cod #simon riley x reader #simon x reader #simon ghost riley #Simon x Thimble #ghost x reader

270 notes · View notes

immobulusmalfoy · 5 months ago

Text

From Molly, With Love // George Weasley x F!Reader

Summary: Molly picks her family, no matter who they are, through the sweaters she makes. She's already picked George's SO, you! Warnings: Incredible amounts of fluff, like tooth-rotting. And Percy. A/N: Not sure why it's Christmas all the time in my fics. Just go with it. > DO NOT, under any circumstance, repost my works on any other platform or even on this one. I don’t condone it, haven’t condoned it, and never will. < __________________________________________

Christmas morning was always a conundrum. Especially with the twins involved. I’d planned to sleep without setting an alarm, but I hadn’t expressed that to my two best friends and that had been my big mistake.

“Wake up, sleepy head!” they chorused, jumping on the bed.

I groaned, cracking open an eye to see both boys nearly on top of me, effectively pinning me beneath my blankets.

“Happy Christmas!” they shouted.

“Shhhh. ‘S too early. How’d you get in here this time?”

“That’s for us to know,” Fred started, “and you to find out.” George finished with a grin.

“Alright then, Happy Christmas to you lot, as well.”

I finally opened your eyes completely and sat up, trying to tame my hair and wipe my eyes from sleep. The twins had settled down at the end of my bed and were currently weighing the pile of presents they’d discovered there, attempting to figure out what was in each one. A lumpy one near the bottom was definitely one from Mrs. Weasley, but I knew I had a few from my parents as well as something from the twins.

They didn’t even allow me to get dressed or do anything else before they shoved the small pile of parcels in my lap and stared excitedly. I narrowed my eyes at them, daring them to have done anything remotely prank-related to my things. They looked the picture of innocence, though, in their blue sweaters knitted by their mum.

I opened my parents’ gifts first, the first being three muggle books I’d asked for and the second being a custom-made holster for my wand since my pockets never seemed big enough to hold it. I had a new set of quills from my aunt and uncle in France, too. Then I opened the one Molly had sent me, discovering a lovely emerald sweater with my first initial on it. I ran my hands lovingly over the yarn. Last year I’d gotten a pretty blue one, but I was happier with this green one. Beneath the sweater was a package of homemade fudge that I knew was going to be hidden for a later date. And finally, the twins had gotten me a whole package of my favorite candies and some sachets of tea.

I thanked them both and hugged them, then tugged on my sweater over my pajamas. I’d barely had a chance to run to the bathroom before the boys were dragging me over to the boys dorms to harass their brothers, both Percy and Ron.

“Merry Christmas!” George shouted.

“Hey look—Harry’s got a Weasley sweater, too!” Fred called attention to the sweater Harry had in his possession, one that was the exact same color as my own sweater. I smiled at the boy who looked up at me a bit shyly as Fred snatched the sweater out of his hands.

“Harry’s is better than ours, though.” Fred observed. “She obviously makes more of an effort if you’re not family.” He looked pointedly over at me, but I just shrugged.

I’d met Molly at the end of our first year when the twins and I got off the train. My parents hadn’t been there to meet me at the station, so Molly offered to wait until they got there. I’d felt horrible since they hadn’t shown up for another hour, but Molly and her husband and the boys had all made me feel like I hadn’t been a burden at all and I’d so appreciated it.

To this day, Molly sent me letters every once and awhile to check in, even more than my own parents and I loved the fact that she’d taken the time to knit me a sweater for the last three years. It made me feel special.

“Why aren’t you wearing yours, Ron?” George demanded. “Come on, get it on, they’re lovely and warm.”

I knew George was just trying to get a rise out of Ron, but I did feel bad that Ron didn’t like the sweaters his mum made. I knew he would be more upset if we kept pushing, but George didn’t let up and chucked the sweater at Ron’s head.

“I hate maroon,” the boy moaned, but he did put the sweater on and I beamed at him.

“You haven’t got a letter on yours,” George observed once the sweater was safely donned by Ron. “I suppose she thinks you don’t forget your name. But we’re not stupid—we know we’re called Gred and Forge.” George grinned, his eyes twinkling as he winked at me. I snorted.

“What’s all this noise?” A voice broke through the din we were making and I sighed, knowing exactly who was coming to spoil all the fun. Percy. It’s not that I didn’t like the third eldest Weasley, but he was usually a stick in the mud and he found great joy in ruining our fun.

He’d stuck his head through Ron and Harry’s dorm room door, looking disapproving. It took all that was in me not to laugh at his disheveled curly hair and his smudged glasses. He looked like he’d just gotten up, something I usually didn’t see from “Mr. Perfect Prefect Percy.” Percy was carrying a knitted sweater too and I brightened immediately once I noticed it. I was curious what color he’d get and I was surprised to see that it was a gold color with a maroon ‘P’ sewn in, but it did match his prefect’s badge.

“P is for prefect! Get it on, Percy, come on. We’re all wearing ours. Even Harry got one.” Fred said impatiently as he snatched Percy’s sweater from his arms and allowed George to take the other side, forcing it over Percy’s head while he protested.

After they’d shoved it over his head and trapped his arms in the body part since they hadn’t allowed him to get his arms in, I did laugh because he just looked so funny. His glasses were knocked sideways and his hair was even more of a mess.

“And you’re not sitting with the prefects today, either,” said George. “Christmas is a time for family.”

And then we marched Percy into the Great Hall where we all sat at the table and consumed as much food as we were able, the Christmas feast making me feel like I wouldn’t be able to eat anything else for a week with how much I’d eaten. Fred and George kept swapping sweets on their plates and dumping extra peas in my mashed potatoes, but I couldn’t even be angry at them.

Three years later, Molly was still making all of us sweaters and other knitted things and I happily donned a maroon sweater the same shade as Ron’s usual one, my first initial on it in gold again. It was perfectly comfortable and I mooned over it to George as we sat on one of the couches in the common room.

With the Triwizard cup happening this year, mine and the twins’ sixth year, we’d all decided to stay at the castle for Christmas yet again. As much as I loved celebrating Christmas with my family, there was something special about celebrating it at Hogwarts with my friends.

George was sitting back on the couch while I laid my head on his legs, a book over my stomach that I’d honestly forgotten.

“Are you nervous about tonight?” George asked as he brushed a piece of my hair off my forehead. I looked up into his deep eyes and smiled.

“No, I’m not nervous. Are you?” I asked.

George had asked me to the Yule Ball that was happening tonight and I was thrilled. Though I wasn’t sure how George was feeling about it.

“I’m more nervous that I’ll break your foot by stepping on it.” George laughed, poking me in the side. I squirmed away from his touch, slapping his hands away as he continued his ticklish assault.

“I’ll wear bigger shoes to account for the swelling then, shall I?” I teased, causing him to turn a pink color. “Anyway, I did promise Angelina that I’d get ready with her and Katie, so I probably should be off.”

“You, worrying about appearances?” George gasped, “What has the world come to?”

“Hush, you. I’ve got to make sure you don’t outshine me all the time.”

I flashed him another grin and rolled off the couch to head up to the sixth year girls’ room where Angie and Katie were already arguing over makeup colors and whether or not their dates would really care. Considering that Angie was going with Fred, I remarked that he would care. Despite the boys not appearing like they care about things like that, I happened to know that Fred wanted to put on a show at the ball. And Katie was going as “friends” with Cormac McLaggen, a wizard I happened to hate for his bad attitude and pompous behavior.

“Hey!” Angelina protested as I disappeared into our shared bathroom.

“Yes?” I asked, popping my head back into our room. I was sure the others would be there soon and I wanted to get a shower before going through the hassle of hair and makeup, even though Katie had already offered to fix up my hair for me.

“Are you going to have enough time to get ready? You haven’t even started and the ball starts at eight.”

“I’ve got three hours. That should be more than enough time.” I said, and I was right. It didn’t take me more than two to take a shower, change into my dress robes which happened to be maroon just like my sweater, and have Katie do my hair in some elaborate braided crown around my head. Once I’d finished my makeup and donned some gold jewelry, I snagged my cape and headed downstairs before the other girls even thought of it.

And there George was at the bottom of the stairs, lounging on one of the couches beside Fred and Lee Jordan. He looked fantastic in his dress robes and I smiled once he looked up and saw me.

“Blimey, you look gorgeous.” George said as he stood up and met me at the bottom of the steps.

“What, this old thing?” I teased him, “Just something I had lying around waiting for a special occasion. You look spiffy!”

George flushed again and brought me over to the couch. I collapsed between him and Fred, bringing my arms around the two of them.

“Look at my boys! Aren’t they beautiful?” I gushed to Lee, and he laughed at the twins’ expressions, knowing I was giving them grief for no reason besides the fact that it was fun. I smacked kisses to both of their cheeks, Fred wiping it off immediately with a halfway-disgusted look.

“Get off, you big lump.” Fred snorted good-naturedly. “Angie coming down soon?”

“Hold your horses, mister. She’ll come down when she’s good and ready. You reckon Ron figured out who Hermione’s date is yet?” I asked once I noticed the younger girl coming downstairs in her blue dress robes. She’d shown them to me a few weeks ago when she’d gotten them and I had to admit that they looked better on her than I thought, and I’d known she would be gorgeous in them.

“I bet you a galleon he throws a massive fit once he sees.” Fred remarked as Hermione escaped through the portrait hole with a wave back towards us.

“You’re on.” Lee grinned, twiddling his wand between his fingers. The more he did it, the more sparks flew from the end of it and I instinctively turned farther into George to make sure they didn’t fall on my dress. He wrapped an arm around me and tucked me into his chest, causing my heart to start beating a little more erratically. His laugh felt like a rumble underneath me and I hoped he couldn’t feel the change in my heartbeat.

I didn’t know when it had started, really. One day I was with the twins and I realized that, as much as I love them together, I had a major soft spot for George. I’d pretty quickly figured out how to tell them apart when we were younger and the more time I’d spent with them that first year had ensured I never got them confused, so I knew my feelings for George were genuine. He was just so sweet and passionate about his interests, and I realized very soon that my crush was maybe more than a crush. Well, definitely more than a crush. I was pretty sure I’d fallen in love with him. But I didn’t know how George felt.

Sometimes I fancied that I caught him looking at me with a different expression, one that screamed “I like you,” but then I second-guessed myself and told myself it was only a look that a friend would give. But I wanted to know how he felt more than anything, even just so I could move on if he would never feel the same. But, oh, how I wish he did feel the same way.

And then he’d asked me to the Yule Ball, confusing me even more. Fred had asked Angie because he liked her, a fact he’d admitted one night after a few too many spiked butterbeers. I knew Ron had tried asking Hermione, but he hadn’t listened to my advice and he’d asked too late when she’d already gotten another date. I knew Ron hadn’t noticed, but it was pretty clear to quite a few of us that Ron and Hermione had it bad for each other and were completely oblivious to the other’s feelings on the matter. I was sure it was going to blow up in their faces tonight and had put a galleon on it.

Most of the other people I knew who were going were either going strictly as friends or in the relationship mindset, but George had never specified what exactly we were doing. Fred had called out to Angie one night while studying in the common room, asking her to go. I hadn’t been asked yet and I’d voiced how nice it was that Fred was getting a move-on by asking her to go. But then the next day, George had handed me a library book I’d been searching for and promptly pulled me aside and asked me to go to the ball with him. It was quiet and simple and I’d loved him even more for it.

Deep down, I’d been hoping he’d ask me and I’d been thrilled that he had. But his face was saying something totally different and it scared me. I didn’t want to be his pity date, but I’d rather be his date than worry about going to the ball alone.

George broke me from my thoughts by rubbing his thumb over my shoulder and causing goosebumps to form where he’d touched my bare skin. I shivered and looked into his face.

“You ready to head down to the hall?” he asked.

“I don’t mind waiting if you want to go down together.” I murmured, bringing my hand up to still his on my shoulder. He froze at my touch. “But we can go down now if you want to.”

“Let’s go down and scope out the place.” George smiled, getting up and helping me to my feet. “Lads, we’re going to scope out the place. I’m starving, so we’re gonna scheme our ways into getting snacks.”

“Why don’t you just sneak into the kitchens?” Lee asked, looking up at us. I snorted, because way to go Lee for using his brain.

“That’s brilliant. Let’s do that.” I dragged George along for the ride as we made our way to the portrait that would let us into the kitchens. George did the honors of tickling the pear and then we were in the kitchens faster than you could say ‘charm.’

The room was full of amazing treats and the house elves smiled at us as I waved at them. They knew who we were and I’d chatted with loads of them since the twins and I figured out how to get in here. Sometimes I wondered if the twins missed the magic map we’d pilfered from Filch’s office as much as I did on occasion. It was such a wonderful piece of magic, though I was glad Harry seemed to be putting it to good use now since we’d given it to him last year.

Armed with snacks that we carried in our hands for easy access, we exited the kitchens and made our way to the Great Hall, which had been transformed like never before for the ball. McGonagall gave George and I a surly look once she saw what we were carrying, but she didn’t say a word to us about it. I was sure she had more important things to worry about than us stealing snacks from the kitchens, especially since this event wasn’t just for us, but also for the two wizarding schools whose students were currently staying with us.

I spotted Hermione with her date, grinning away as they moved towards the table where they’d be sitting with the other Triwizard Cup champions. It was no surprise that we had assigned seats and I thanked my lucky stars that George and I would be sharing the table with most of the other Gryffindor sixth years.

“Is Hermione here with Krum?” I heard Katie ask, and I was startled since I hadn't even heard her come up behind me. I nodded and she smiled, “Good for her! I wish he was my date.” She tossed a grumpy look at McLaggen who was looking even oilier than usual. To his credit, he pretended not to hear her and instead said hello to George and a few of the other people milling about.

George and I took our seats and watched as other witches and wizards from all three schools entered the room, their reactions the same as ours as they surveyed the room in all its splendor. It was wonderful charm work to convert the room this spectacularly.

I absolutely loved sitting at the table, hearing all the conversations going on around us and admiring everyone’s outfits. George sat as close to me as acceptably allowed, but I didn’t mind it because I’d made up my mind.

At the end of the night, once the dancing was done and we’d eaten as much as we wanted, I was going to tell George how I felt. The thought almost made me sick, but I knew I had to do it. I had to. Otherwise, the feeling was going to eat me alive and I couldn’t keep it a secret anymore, even if he rejected me. At least I’d still have him as a friend, I hoped.

As the night dragged on, especially after Harry’s disastrous dance with one of the Patil sisters, I grew tired. Only George noticed. We’d been out on the dance floor for hours, only taking breaks to down lemonade and pumpkin juice and some sort of punch the house elves had created. I’d probably eaten at least five mince pies and George was well on his way to eating the whole table full of sweets. But after the Weird Sisters had left and the party started dying down, George pulled me aside.

“Wanna take a walk before we go to bed? I bet the third floor is empty. Well, except for Mrs. Norris who’s probably roaming about looking for students making out.” he laughed in my ear, his arm wrapped around my waist.

I shivered at his touch, but nodded, my grin infectious. George grinned back, grabbing both of our cloaks as he told Fred we were leaving. In between him yelling back and forth with Angie about something, of course.

The third floor was empty, just like George said, and we settled into comfortable silence as we walked down the hallways. The paintings watched us as we went, but I chose to ignore them as I tried to settle my rapid heartbeat. Was now my chance?

My thoughts were interrupted as I felt George settle his hand in mine, our fingers now intertwined between us. I looked up at him to find him already looking down at me.

“You’re really special, y’know that?” George broke the silence. I felt a hot flush extending up my neck as I smiled at him.

“Is that your way of saying you’re happy to have me as your weird best friend?”

“Oh no, that spot is reserved for Lee.” he joked. I slapped his arm softly with my other hand as he laughed at me. “Only kidding, lovey. Promise.”

“Good. Lee has nothing on me.” I sniffed.

But that was my last coherent thought as George yanked on our entwined hands and pulled me right in front of him. And then, most wonderful of all, reached his other hand over to cup the back of my head and kissed me. Kissed me! George was kissing me! I was screaming internally.

The kiss didn’t last long before George broke away to gauge my reaction, his eyes searching my face for any sign of disgust. But how could I be disgusted when the boy I was in love with had just done the one thing I’d been waiting for for over a year?

“George?” I whispered.

“Yeah?”

“Is it silly if I say I love you?”

His eyes widened with surprise before he started grinning uncontrollably.

“Nope! Say it as loudly as you like because, love, I adore you. Godric, I thought you were gonna slap me. I never thought you’d like me too, let alone love me.”

“I could still slap you, but I’d much rather kiss you.” I laughed before leaning up to kiss him again.

“Blimey, mum’s gonna be ecstatic. She loves you.” He whispered, and then he kissed me over and over again until I was nearly drunk with it, the feeling indescribable. But I was happy, oh so happy. And so was he.

#george weasley #george weasley x reader #George Weasley x F!reader #immobulusmalfoy

248 notes · View notes

thalwri · 5 months ago

Text

confessions for lovers - kaldur'ahm

synopsis: you find yourself wondering why Kaldur has been so distant as of recent, so when the opportunity arises for you to confront it head on you make sure you don't leave it to fate.

warnings: dry humping, fantasising sex, a lot of grinding, smut, lowkey fluff

kaldur'ahm x fembod!reader ; characters are aged up!

word count: 4,4k

MDNI!!!

After his return from Atlantis, Kaldur’ahm seemed to fare better than how he was during the team’s mission in Bialya. Spending multiple hours exposed to the dry air of the desert, especially without the core source of energy that keeps him functional, had thrown him off just a bit. Being forced to spend a week in his home after having another mission with Roy as well must have soothed the blow. The issue was, he still seemed distant.

You had tried to meet him at your usual spot where the two of you have made a habit of conversing or gossiping, but he barely shows. You tried to ask him directly if he was okay and what was going on in his mind but he would somehow - and effortlessly, to your irritation - move around it and avoid answering your suspicions. Even talking about the bores of reporting after each mission didn’t make him budge.

“Kaldur’ahm.” Normally saying his full name in a serious tone, like the one you sometimes use when you’re viciously enraged, would work to get him to listen. And he did. His gaze had averted to the mission report he was drafting to you.

“You’re worrying too much, dear friend,” He calmly smiled at you. His charm had already begun to melt into you. That feeling that it would all be fine because he said so almost disarmed your persistence. You believed he was using some type of Atlantean sorcery on you, but it didn’t occur to you that you were choosing excuses for your response rather than accepting that it may just be something else. Something more.

You attempted to try the external approach. You had probed Artemis and Wally to try themselves and pestered Dick until even he admitted he didn’t have much of a clue. You had made your attempt with Conner and M’gann too since they had also visited Atlantis with him; they were both reluctant to speak on it. At that point you considered begging your mentor to ask Aquaman what happened in Atlantis, but what would the king of an underwater kingdom be doing with his mentee’s personal affairs?

It felt as though you would never get the chance to see what was going on with him. You were just about to give up, until you were blessed with a summons to a mission briefing.

Conner and M’gann were assigned to play as the Terror Twins - Tommy and Tuppence Terror - to investigate a suspicious upcoming transfer of the Icicle Jr and Mr. Freeze to Belle Reve instead of their initial placements for rehabilitation and punishment. Batman emphasised the heavy suspicion of how easily incarcerated they were along with their instant petitions to be moved, hence assigning just the two of them in.

“Who inside the prison will know their true identities?” Kaldur asked in concern, most likely for their safety.

“No one,” You both furrowed your brows. “We can’t be certain the prison staff isn’t compromised.”

And that forced them to essentially be on their own for the duration of the mission. That didn’t explain why you and Kaldur were involved.

“Then what is the task for Aqualad and I?” You couldn’t really see what your purpose in the mission was. “If Miss Martian and Superboy are the only ones within, where does that leave us?”

“You two, along with Red Tornado, will be monitoring the situation closely but securely from the outside.” The Bat’s voice rumbled around the main hall of the cave. His presence has never failed to make you shiver in slight fear. Even though you’ve been trained by him alongside your mentor for years, he was still quite terrifying.

“Should anything happen inside, an escape plan will be set in place by the two of you to efficiently remove Superboy and Miss Martian. Beyond that, your job is to observe and maintain contact with them for the duration of the mission.”

You nodded in understanding. You thought about the entire ordeal in a stretch of detail. There was an opening, a really good opening, for you and Kaldur to talk but you had grown so agitated that you didn’t think it was worth bothering yourself about. A mission like that was designed to be lengthy but you expected Conner and M’gann to be efficient.

You hadn’t realised it would last days.

M’gann had prepared the bioship to accommodate for the extensive stay they were having outside the prison. Bedding, food, and all the adequate necessities were there and ready for when they were needed. Not that either of you would sleep. With the patrols and monotonous report readings from the rest of the team, you had found yourselves over occupied to engage in leisurely activities.

You gripped the blade stored on your thigh tightly, keeping an eye out for unwanted surveyors from the tree you were hiding in. Every two hours or so, you and Kaldur did monitoring rotations to ensure everything was undisturbed outside of the bioship. It was capable of camouflaging effectively, but you took precautions anyway.

A telepathic voice slithered into the surface of your mind. M’gann’s voice. A brief update of the happenings within Belle Reve revealed that the plan for a breakout has been put in place, and is going to happen soon.

”Time to pull you out.” His soothing voice made your ears warm as you stood on the branch you were previously kneeling on. A hatch opening above the bioship opened for you.

“Icicle would only postpone.” M’gann quickly objected, and you couldn’t help but agree. You had a feeling that dealing with a breakout would be more than just a headache to handle, especially if all the prisoners are out. “We need to learn how they’re busting out, or they’ll just try again.”

Once you were certain the coast was clear, you jumped off the tree and landed in the hatch opening above the bioship to land directly into the cockpit.

“Agreed.” The final telepathic message sent through by Kaldur has the opening closed above you.

You rose to your feet, adjusting your mission attire and glanced at him. He sighed and leaned back on his seat, crossing his arms. His gills flared slightly as his large muscles flexed as they moved. You could almost count the veins pulsing against his skin icons, almost like his electric power was harnessed through his blood. You wouldn’t really be against getting electrocuted by those muscles.

You watched his lips curve and purse as he probably reported back to Red Tornado, the specifics of his words went in through one ear and left through the other. It was only when you heard the mechanical whirring of Red Tornado’s head turn to you, did you snap out of your daze.

“External surroundings are clear.” You reported, your eyes focused on reeling and binding your blade more securely to your thigh. Although you couldn’t truly confirm it, you could feel a certain gaze fixed on you. You chose not to acknowledge it.

“Affirmative,” His synthesised voice echoed through the cockpit. “Then it would be best if both of you rest for the rest of the day. Should anything happen, I will call.”

With a curt nod, you walked into the depths of the bioship towards your chosen room. It was a temporary placement, of course, but you couldn’t help but bring along some books along with your weapons and shield to give it a slight homey sensation, even if it was just for days. You had also packed a change of clothing and mission attire, knowing walking around in the same clothing would feel disgusting at some point.

The mere thought of Kaldur’ahm began to agitate you. The two of you were good friends, having shared your secrets and fears with one another, having a secret area at the cave where you would sit for an hour and do whatever came to mind be it swimming, reading, training, or merely talking. Sure, there were those moments where hands touched places they weren’t supposed to be, and lips were kissed - specifically under the strict conditions of ‘spin the bottle’ when you were playing with the rest of the Team - but it didn’t truly make anything out of them. Right?

You were friends. You told each other everything. So why was he holding back now?

You leaned on the wall dragging your hands across your body, feeling restless. Something about him today left you feeling starved with desire. It wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling, but it certainly wasn’t welcome especially in the middle of a mission. Feeling more attentive to his voice, eying every intricate movement, imagining the feeling of his flesh against yours– you were losing your grip on control and restraint. The break would be your best chance at expelling it before things got worse.

Your hands traced over the curves of your breasts to your waist, feeling a slight tingle of arousal left in its wake. To be both angry and horny over Kaldur was a new experience, and you weren’t too sure on how you felt about it. On one hand you would give him a colloquial form of the silent treatment, addressing him in the duration of the mission but when you had time to yourselves, you wouldn’t give him the time of day. On the other hand, you could lock yourself in your room and tend to your body’s untimely needs so that it won’t bother you for the rest of the mission.

Alas, being petty wasn’t your forte and succumbing to your needs while being emotionally conflicted didn’t seem like it would reap a good result.

Your hands fell to your sides in defeat. You would have to brood instead.

Just as you were about to strip off your uniform, a soft knock caught your attention. You called for whoever was there to enter, but you had a hunch of exactly who it was.

“Are you alright?” Kaldur’s smooth voice sang to your soul. You could feel the anger starting to melt away, and the arousal started to bubble deep within. It appeared your body had a different agenda than your mind.

“I should be asking you.” You grumbled, crossing your arms over your chest. Kaldur stepped inside, allowing for the door to slide shut behind him.

“You’ve barely spoken since we got here,” He reached to hold your arms, a usual habit he had to try look into what was affecting you. A method to make you feel comfortable in knowing he was there for you. “Talk to me.” His kindness and sincere concern sent butterflies bullying your stomach, but you held firm in your resolve.

“Ever since you came back from Atlantis, you’ve been off.” You start, slightly stepping back from him. “Every time I ask, you either are freshly occupied or you change the topic. When I try to organise a chance for us to even spend time with each other, you avoid it. You avoid me.”

You felt a short pinch in your chest after saying that. You didn’t truly acknowledge the hurt until it was spoken aloud. “If it’s because of when we kissed, or those other times and how’s it conflicting with… you know, it’s fine and I get it. But that doesn’t mean avoidance is the answer.”

He remained quiet for what felt like hours, his face slowly became more solemn. You quickly worried that you said something incorrectly or hurt his feelings before his hands gently held yours.

“I have been holding off with you for a while,” He acknowledges, watching you avert your gaze. He taps your chin with a finger, asking for you to look at him. He just adores eye contact with those pale green eyes of his. “Regarding our activities, I enjoyed them. Truly. And this has nothing to do with Tula either– well, it did but I have since come to move on.”

“You’ve looked so strained lately,” You added, feeling like you needed to understand more. “What’s been happening?”

He stared at you quietly, with the familiar gaze he has when he calculates things in his mind. It was going to take time before he decided what would be best for him to share with you so you took a wild guess. “Did Roy say something to you during your mission with him?”

Kaldur’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. You merely shrugged. “You know I’m good at guessing.”

He broke into brief laughter, almost vibrating from the accuracy of your guess. “Yes, Roy did tell me something rather daunting,” His smile quickly faded. “But it’s a delicate matter I believe would be dangerous to share with anyone outside of the two of us. That, alongside the strain of healing after Bialya has left me worse for wear. I hope you can forgive me.”

You felt bad. He was going through so much. His hands reached to hold your face, a gesture he has only done twice. “And regarding you especially, I think it’s time we address the elephant in the room.”

You like him. Like, like like him. And you’ve known for a while. Was he going to expose and reject you for it? Was he going to be more avoidant afterwards? Multiple negative thoughts were buzzing in your head, so much so that you barely heard what he had said.

“What?”

His lips curved into a handsome smile. “I said, I know of the feelings and affections you hold for me. And I want you to know I feel the same way.”

Your brain must have shut down because you felt frozen in place. He returned the feelings you have for him. Kaldur’ahm. Liked. You. Your mouth opened and closed repeatedly as you struggled to figure out what you could say.

“I– Kal–“

Kaldur grinned, pinching your cheeks. “I know,” Almost as if he had read your mind, extracting what you had intended to say to him. “And I’ve been wanting to do something since I came to realise how I feel.” His face drew closer to yours in a tantalisingly slow pace. “If I may.”

You took no time to hesitate or ponder, the moment the yes left your lips his own had taken its place. His arms engulfed you in his embrace, slowly reaching up your back as the level of urgency and need slowly increased. The air began to stick to your skin, heat rising to your face.

You briefly pulled away, watching Kaldur lean forward to kiss you again. “Say it again.” You commanded. Face flustered yet determined, Kaldur bit his lower lip and leaned down to your ear.

“I like you. Quite a lot. And I want to continue kissing you while I still have my restraint.” He leaned close to you with his body, gently guiding you to the couch directly next to the bed. His eyes erratically bounced between yours and your lips, as if unsure which of the two were worth more to admire.

Arms still tightly coiled around you, you pulled him back into your passionate embrace, greeting his lips with your tongue and suckling nibbling until both of you had swollen lips. In a near lustful dance between heavy breaths, and pecks, you were lifted up and carried mid-kiss and plopped onto his lap while he rested on the armchair.

“I find you enticingly attractive,” His lips travelled from your lips to your neck, covered by your mission attire. His teeth grazed over the fabric as his grip on you tightened even more, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. You knew Kaldur had this kind of energy within him, but to experience it was something completely different.

“I find you charmingly intelligent,” His tongue traced the path his lips took, leading back to yours and pulled you into a breath snatching kiss. You almost felt like putty in his arms, instinctively moving your hips against his in need. He groaned, holding you down to keep you from moving again. You could almost hear the blood surrounding your pussy thump and throb in titillation.

Feeling a bit of cheek you circled your hips around him. Your hands kept near his face, raking his short hair, stroking his face as your lips reconnected. A low moan reverberated in your mouth, a vocal representation of his muscles flexing harder to keep you from moving again. Just to ensure you would effectively receive the message, his hips pushed against yours making you very aware of a very hard, throbbing bulge beneath you.

You paused in your movements, a small gasp being your immediate response. Another sharp thrust hit you in surprise, the full awareness of its size settled in your mind. “Fuck, Kaldur.”

Oh. Oh. It felt remarkable.

“I take it you like what you feel.” Kaldur grinned, his warm breath fanning your clothed neck before he pressed a gentle kiss on you. If only you could rip off everything you’re wearing. His hips thrusted up against you once more, forcing you to silence a whimper by holding your lips between your teeth.

“I like a great many things about you,” You sigh in pleasure, slowly grinding against his erection. Your mind grew fuzzy from the feeling of his cock being just layers away from your pussy. You felt your clothing start to soak from how wet you were getting.

“Being a great,” Kiss. “…strong leader.” You moved down to kiss his collarbones, afraid of touching his gills in case they were sensitive.

“Being a compassionate,” Kiss. “…generous companion.” Your hands traced the skin icons from his biceps to his wrists simultaneously. You took the time to delicately trace over each and every vein you could see, which only deepened your arousal for Kaldur.

“Most especially this,” Your tongue left a trail of saliva from the ridge between his collarbones, to his Adam’s apple, to his lips, engulfing him in your need and desire for him. Your grinding eventually synced with his gentle thrusts, gradually going faster and harder against each other. Losing your breath, along with your inhibitions was no longer a concern. For the time being, there was no mission. It was just you and him.

His erection was growing larger and harder by the second, occasionally twitching and aggressively grinding against you. Feeling it pulsate against the layers between your clit drove you into a hazy frenzy.

Short breaths, rubbing fabric and hushed moans filled the otherwise silent room. Your eyes were fixated on Kaldur slowly unravelling his restraint through his moans, his impulsive kisses and sultry licks and bites on the skin that wasn’t covered by clothing, the uncontrollable juts of his hips, and his hands being everywhere on you from your face to your breasts, and to your back and ass which he seemed to delight in particularly. His eyes were locked on yours as if he was lost deeply within and the only thing keeping him somewhat grounded was your voice, the pleasure boiling within him, and the chance of being caught or heard.

“You are so beautiful,” He whispers as his lips tickle your cheek. You raised your hips just to drop yourself onto his bulge, eliciting a mixture of a groan and whimper from him. Merely thinking about clamping around his cock got you soaking further into your uniform, got you wetter, more dazed in hunger to devour him.

The skin icons on his arms glowed brightly as his grip on your hips tightened, pushing you back and forth on his cock as it twitched beneath your pussy. One hand latched onto your waist, pulling you closer until his face was flush on your breasts, tongue swirling around where he assumed your nipples would be. How he got the exact spot, you couldn’t tell.

Your nails clawed his arms in a sore attempt to maintain balance and control of yourself, to stop yourself from cumming just from grinding over him. The possibility of taking him inside you was right there and you wanted the energy to do it through the night if that was even possible.

You could just picture yourself relentlessly bouncing on his cock, his lips all over your bare chest suckling light bruises onto you, feeling so overly drenched in cum and sweat that it gets you hornier than you should be, needier than you thought you could be. The thought of whispering the dirtiest of your desires into his ears and Kaldur responding dutifully by bringing your wishes to reality made you moan.

Your daze within desire was snapped back into your mind when you felt his hand smack and squeeze your ass, fondling and massaging it with lewd care. “I- I’m getting close-“ His head fell back onto the chair, adjusting his grip on you to push himself deeper into your clothed pussy. The friction was bringing you dangerously close, your thighs beginning to shake, and your core tightening in warning of you nearing climax. You frantically nodded to him, almost silently begging him to do just as much. You leaned down entrapping your lips with his instantly receiving a welcome from his tongue accompanied by a harsh groan from the depths of his throat.

With one arm coiled around his shoulders and the other reaching up to the back of his head, you pushed your body into him until it hurt. You wanted to be one with each other. Beyond the clothes. He was still swirling his tongue against yours, occasionally pulling it back to tug on your lips in a passionate, lustrous kiss. Huffs of your name escape his lips in syllables with each sharp thrust he pushes against you. You hiccuped moans in the only way you can properly respond; trying to actually say something would sound like a bundle of incomplete sentences.

“Want you,” you groaned, scratching his muscles. Your clit pulsated its final warning, threatening to release its tension until a harsh thrust let it all out. “Need you- fuck- Kaldur!”

You could almost hear the squelching of cum and wetness in your pussy, back arching and your head tipping back to release a melodic moan. Kaldur made a noise that sounded like a mixture of a giggle and a whimper as he rode you through your orgasm through quick, cruel thrusts until he stilled with a soft yet lengthy “fuck!” followed by a whimper of your name, slowing his pace as you both calmed, pants and huffs eventually easing into stabilised breathing.

His hands gently held your face, pulling you into a more gentle, slower kiss, full of exhaustion and appreciation. His hands caressed your cheeks, warming your ears in a dazed form of excitement. Despite the last few minutes, such a sweet gesture was enough to make you flustered.

“I do enjoy your presence in my life.” Kaldur said firmly, still holding your face in his hands to lock his eyes on yours. “To be so conflicted by my grief is my own doing, you had no involvement in my distancing.”

“Really, I understand,” You replied, too exhausted to be stern with him. “Speaking to someone - a friend or even Black Canary - about these kinds of things is better than pushing through it alone.”

He nodded slowly, pressing his lips on yours again; he just couldn’t get enough of you. “I’m grateful you’ve given me the chance to straighten it out once and for all.”

Far from capable of giving another comprehensible speech, you could only nod in response. You nuzzled your forehead against his to signify your appreciation.

“I didn’t anticipate this being the way I’d come to confess my feelings and attraction to you, but I am somewhat-“

“Pleased?” You grinned. “You did sound like it.”

His ears flushed in embarrassment, but he had the wits to bite back. “You look just as pleased if not more. I think you said you need me–“

A gentle knock at the door to your room brought you both to an instant silence. You stared at each other in worry. Were you too loud? Red Tornado called your name, to which you quickly acknowledged.

“It is time to check in with Miss Martian once more,” He said. It seemed like he didn’t notice. “And your patrol rotation can be cut short tonight, all seems well.”

“I’ll be there soon, Red Tornado.” You called, the only response was heavy footsteps marching away. You and Kaldur let out audible sighs of relief, relaxing from the tension.

“I believe you should get going,” Kaldur whispered, stroking your back then squeezing your hips with a subtle smirk.

“So should you, fish boy.” You snuck a peck from his lips, leaning back before he could return the gesture. You reached to peel off the top of your mission uniform, stopping to tease him with your cleavage. “But first, we might need a change of clothes.”

The mission had gone successfully. The day after your unexpected bonding with Kaldur, the breakout attempt was thwarted, the prisoners returned to their cells dismally, and you left feeling much closer to Kaldur. M’gann and Conner looked as though they had a similar result

They sat close to one another, with their hands fondling almost like children having their first crush. Kaldur piloted the bioship and you sat up ahead, drafting the mission report as per the memories M’gann had shared with you.

“You and Kaldur seem to be close,” She grinned, as a seat morphed next to yours.

“I think that applies more with you, M’gann,” You grinned, though you couldn’t help but agree.

“If you believe so,” She shrugged. “But do know your thoughts are rather loud when you’re… occupied with him.”

You looked at M’gann in bewilderment until your eyes slowly widened as the realisation dawned upon you. It wasn’t uncommon for strong feelings to be read by a telepath without them actually trying. You just didn’t think, let alone know, that it applied to- well, that. M’gann winked and placed a finger over her lips, silently promising not to tell anyone before she flew back to Conner.

You slumped in your seat feeling almost as flustered as you were when-

You slapped your cheeks, swatting away the memories in case they waved off into M’gann’s mind again. A smile graced your face in satisfaction regardless. You know where you are with Kaldur, you know how he feels, and you definitely know what he wants.

You turned in your seat to give Kaldur a glance only to find his gaze already on you. You both shared a cheeky grin. How it all happened, you’d never tell a soul. But you wouldn’t have it any other way.

#young justice #aqualad x reader #kaldur'ahm x reader #kaldur x reader #young justice x reader #kaldur'ahm #kaldur #aqualad #aqualad smut #kaldur'ahm smut #young justice smut #✧.* thalwri works

313 notes · View notes

sagittariusmarz · 2 months ago

Text

Pick-a-card: What’s blocking your manifestations

*What are you manifesting and what’s standing in the way of your manifestations

*Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated!

*Pictures are from my camera roll, please tag me if you want to use them for any reason

*Please remember to follow me so you can see more content 🤗🫶🏾

Pile 1

I see that you’re manifesting balance, comfort, progress and a new beginning, I see that you’re overwhelmed and you want a break or you want things to go your way without having to struggle too much for it. I see that you’re manifesting something that you know is already meant for you but you’re trying to make it come faster, some of you could be manifesting karma for the people or person that hurt you/you want them to feel the pain that they gave to you. One thing that’s blocking your manifestations is divine timing, things will happen naturally and you can’t rush it. I also see that you could be focusing too much on the future and you’re not staying grounded in the present, you need to be more appreciative of the things you have now so that you can keep getting more in the future. Some of you could be settling because you don’t want to keep fighting for what you want but you have to stay consistent so you can be satisfied in the long run, some of you could be trying to do things on your own but asking for help could move things along quicker. Try thinking about things from a different perspective or being more creative in your approach so that you can manifest faster. Advice- give your goals more time to manifest because changing things too frequently won’t help, pray for what you want/stay consistent and patient. Signs- Leo/aquarius, Leo in the 8th house/aquarius in 7th house. Initials- B, T, S, J, Q

Pile 2

I see that you’re trying to manifest more control, power, optimism and faith. I see you’re manifesting healing and trying to move on from regrets, you could also be manifesting a better temperament and more patience. One of the things blocking your manifestations is other people’s energy, I see that this could be someone in your romantic life or people you spend a lot of time with causing a blockage in your manifestations. I also see that you could be blocking your manifestations because you’re not tapping into your potential, I see that you need to protect your energy more and don’t tell people your goals or plans because subconsciously they could be sending you negative energy. I see that cutting off people you know isn’t good for you will help with your manifestations. Advice- don’t focus too much on your love life, stop letting toxic people get close to you. Be more private or secretive even with your friends or family, learn how to save more money and plan better with your finances. Signs- Scorpio/pisces, Aries or Virgo in 3rd house. Initials- B, A, R, Q

Pile 3

I see that you’re manifesting personal power, protection, confidence and boldness. I see that you’re manifesting more intelligence or the ability to prepare and plan better, you could also be manifesting a transformation or renewal. I see that you’re trying to protect what you worked for or you’re trying to learn how to defend and protect yourself better, you may also be trying to manifest better health and more movement in your life. One thing that’s blocking your manifestations is you because you’re too afraid to put yourself out there and you don’t want to be judged, I see that you can be too submissive sometimes and you’re not that comfortable taking the lead or having power. Your lack of confidence or lack of pride could be blocking your manifestations, you may be too humble sometimes. I see for some of you that your twin flame or lover could be blocking your manifestations, I see that you could be mirroring their energy and that’s what stopping you. You need more independence and more time to yourself, for some of you I see that your religion or spirituality is blocking your manifestations because you’re too concerned about doing things in a certain way that seems right ritualistically or you could be relying on it too much and not putting anything into action. Some of you may not be praying or connecting enough with your religion or spirituality and that’s what blocking your manifestations. Advice-don’t keep crying over spilled milk and think about the things you do have, stop letting the past or regrets hold you back. Spend some time alone and re center yourself, it’s time to do some self reflecting and soul searching so you can figure things out on your own. Signs- Gemini/sagittarius, Pisces in 9th house/Sagittarius in 6th house. Initials- D, E, C, V, P

Personal readings always available!

Divider by @uzmacchiato

119 notes · View notes

in-loving-memory-of · 1 year ago

Text

Takashi Morinozuka x reader -> crush/early dating stage head-canons (sfw)

honestly, i fuckn hate hcs, but i’m gonna put them out there anyway, since mine are simply better cuz i said so

- Takashi isn’t the type of guy to just go up to a girl and ask her out because he thinks she’s cute or anything, so you would 100% have to start off as friends before he made a move (and even then, you’d probably be waiting a while)

- Probably would not initiate a conversation with you on his own (shocking)

- I could see Honey noticing Takashi’s special interest in a girl and deciding to talk to her, and maybe even invite her to the club

- If he did this with Takashi present, he’d be super nervous but secretly grateful that his cousin set him up, cuz lord knows it wouldn’t have happened otherwise

- Once Honey had Takashi’s crush engaged in a conversation, he’d start trying to, not so subtly, gauge whether or not she’s a good fit for Takashi

- If Honey doesn’t like you, then you don’t get to be with Takashi, period.

- If anyone asks at any point during your friendship if Takashi has feelings for you, he’ll either outright deny it or just stay silent, even though it’d be super obvious to anyone who knows him to any capacity

- He would be more engaged in conversations with you than anyone else, MAYBE aside from Honey

- He’d help with anything he thought you may be struggling with (you don’t even have to ask)

- Need help finding something? He’s got you. Pickle jar too hard to open? No problem. Can’t reach something on a high shelf? Well, thank god a certain giant has nothing better to do (he was just admiring you anyway)

- Once the club catches on, any possible privacy the two of you had is gone. Especially if they can tell the feelings are reciprocated

- Tamaki, the twins, and Honey would all try to get the both of you into situations where you’d be alone together, or they’d talk about how cute you would be together, or how cute your kids would be, etc.

- Even before a relationship begins, Takashi will think it’s disloyal or unfaithful to interact flirt with any other girls, so he would be extra quiet during club hours (unless you’re there 🥰)

- Speaking of relationships, when Takashi does finally ask you out, expect it to be a simple question, such as: “Would you like to get coffee with me tomorrow?” or something similar. He’d probably do so when you two are completely alone (mostly so the other club members don’t try to trail you on your date)

- If the date went well, and he felt like you were interested afterwards, that’s when he’d ask you to be his girlfriend.

- The poor guy’s heart would be pounding out of his chest and he’d be blushing like crazy, which would only get worse when if you said yes

- Once you’re official, any reservations he previously had regarding closeness are gone. He wants to hold your hand and just be near you all the time

- He’s not into the PDA shit, though. It’s not like he’d pull you into a make out sesh in public, but he does like to be near you at all times

- Honey absolutely loves that Takashi found someone he truly cares for, especially since he thinks you’re fun to be around, so he and Takashi can still be close as ever

- The other members (mainly Tamaki) are ecstatic about the relationship as well

- Seeing their normally stoic friend all head over heals for you is just too sweet

- Once you start dating, it isn’t long before he wants you over to meet his parents and vice versa

- He doesn’t even see it as a huge step or anything. I mean, of course he wants his family to meet his darling partner

———————————————————————

Alright, I’m gonna call this a part one, and basically just write others to be more tailored to a reader with specific personality traits, cuz writing so vaguely is driving me insane.

(I have no writing experience, but I promise I’ll try harder next time, so hopefully they’ll get better after this 😭)

If there’s anything specific you want to see, feel free to request headcanons or fics for Takashi (or any of the other characters for that matter), as that’ll make it way easier to write something worthwhile lmao

#takashi morinozuka #takashi morinozuka x reader #ohshc #ouran high school host club #mori senpai #ohshc mori #headcanon #my hcs #romance #dating #anime and manga

630 notes · View notes

xetlynn · 8 months ago

Text

Until Dawn- By Your Side: Chapter One, Blackwood Pines

(Josh Washington X reader)

[Prologue] [One] [Two]

Ever since that day I’ve rarely looked Jessica in the eyes. I’ll talk to her like normal, she’ll come into my room to bother me but I never initiate anything anymore. I was pretty disgusted by her actions. Same with everyone else’s. I’ve gotten extremely close with Sam because of everything too. Her, Chris and I check in with Josh a lot.

Mainly me, they just text me asking for updates since they don’t see him as often as I do. My parents have even been getting annoyed with my “behavior.” How I’m never home, barely doing my homework and treating Jessica poorly. I’m not meaning to. I really want to look at my sister and not see a bad friend, but looking back on my pictures with Beth and Hannah it’s difficult. Knowing Hannah was devastated from what they did to her, it being a stupid prank or not.

And when Josh told me his plan to have everyone come up for this winter I was skeptical on if it would be a good idea. “Are you sure, we haven’t gone up unless it was for a search party, my love.” I run my fingers through his hair, he smiles softly up at me. He was laying his head on my chest, his arms wrapped around my torso.

“My sisters would want to have fun up there. Like we always have.” He kisses my collarbone. “Are you sure there’s no other reason?” I question him, his nose twitches and I knew I already caught him in his lies. “What other reason would there be?” He decides to ask a question in return. I stare down at him with a straight face, he lifts himself off of me.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” His brows furrow and I crack a smile, grabbing his arm. “I know you better than that, my love.” I pull him down to kiss him on his lips. “What are you scheming?” Kissing him again. “I can’t believe you caught me that quick.” He entraps me in between his arms, his body laying flat on mine. I hear him take a deep breath, I knew he was wondering if he should tell me or not. Knowing him since we were children I’ve gotten to observe every little thing about him. Something he’s done with me too.

“I just maybe want to get it out of them, that they’re guilty for it.” He finally whispers out, I stay silent for a moment. I can hear his heart beat start to quicken and before he panics I speak up. “How can I help?”

I sat on the bus with Sam, she gave me one of her earbuds as we listened to what’s on her device. It’s the radio talking about the Washington twins. I notice her stare out the window. My body stiffens slightly, it’s never easy hearing updates about the twins and it be nothing new. Nothing good. Then she clicks a button switching to a video of my boyfriend. Of Josh. I smile at the sight of his face.

“Well hello friends and fans… alright let’s do that again.” He goes back up to the camera, not really zooming it in, beginning to talk once again with the same intro. “Alright. Well hello friends and fans! It’s beyond awesome to have you guys all back this year. First off, I gotta say I am super excited to welcome all my pals back to the annual Blackwood winter getaway!” He does a little cheer. “So, um… let me just let you know, let’s take a moment to address the elephant in the room for a second…” His mood switches. “I know you’re all probably worried about me and I know it’s gonna be tough on all of us going back after what happened last year, but I just want you all to know, it means… it means so much to me that we’re doing this. And I know it would mean so much to Hannah and Beth that we’re all still here together, y’know thinking of them. I really want to spend some quality time with each and every one of you and share moments we’ll never forget. For the sake of my sisters, you know?” He gives his speech, I lean into Sam further and further as I listen to him. I feel her laugh at me a little bit but I can’t help it. “Okay… so! Let’s party like we’re fucking porn stars, okay?! And make this one trip we’ll never forget, alright? Yes!” He pumps his fists up in the air. I scrunch my nose because of his wording but Sam and I both snicker at it quietly.

When the bus finally stops at Blackwood Pines, Sam and I get out together and begin to walk forward while looking around. We were told to meet here by Chris like we have many times before. “Weird, looks like we’re before him.” I smile, twirling around. She opens the gate for both of us. “Surprising. I feel like we’re the last usually.” She huffs, I hum in agreement. We then hear a noise behind us. “Hello?” Sam calls out. “Someone there?” I ask out, furrowing my eyebrows. Squinting, checking if I could possibly see anything.

After not getting anything in response we continue on. I keep checking behind us though. Thinking maybe someone was there, playing a prank on us.

Once we get to the gate there’s a note taped onto it. “Gate’s busted, climb over. -Chris.” I read out. “So he is here and didn’t meet up like we agreed.” I cross my arms, irritated. “I wonder why.” Sam whispers. We try to open the gate still but nothing budges. I sigh and head over to the rocky wall of the fence. Sam right behind me.

“I’ll boost you.” I tell her, jokingly. The wall had too many things sticking out for a boost to actually work. I squat down a tiny bit as she begins to climb. Staying there for her as support. She does a jump and I make a face but successfully she gets on top of the wall. “Alright, your turn.” She says, taking a second to breathe.

I groan but do the same thing she did. Lifting myself up, very slowly as I don’t think I have the same amount of upper body strength as her. We jump down together. I trip a little bit and she helps me so I don’t fall. Both of us chuckling. Making our way to the area we need to get to.

We pass by the sign about Indigenous people and butterfly prophesies. “Oh, cool!” Sam grins. She skims over it but we continue forward. Finally getting to where we used to meet Josh and the twins… along with Chris.

Speaking of, “Is that Chris’s bag?” I point over to the bench. Sam moves a little closer to me. “Chris?” She calls out, we go closer to the bag. “Your bags here, but where are you?” I roll my eyes.

“Are you here? You’re not in the bag are you?!” Sam asks. I hear buzzing. “His phone.” I mutter, taking it out of the pocket. “Ah ha!” Sam grins, “look who it is.” I smirk. Ashley’s name popping up on the screen.

“Hey noseys.” A voice calls from behind us and we both jump. “Chris.” Sam sighs out. “You scared us.” We both say clinging onto each other. “I’m sorry, but are either of you my secretary?” He points a finger in our faces.

Sam takes the phone from my hand and lifts it up. “It was buzzing.” She defends our choice we made to snoop through his belonging.

“Cool. Well, thanks for letting me know. I can take it from here.” He takes it from her. He checks the message and we stand there awkwardly.

“Oh! So, I found something kinda amazing.” He goes over to his bag. “What?” Sam asks and I just lean against her, tiredly. Still intrigued nonetheless.

“I’m not gonna tell you guys, you gotta see for yourselves. Come on, it’s this way.” He leads the way, I get off of Sam and we begin to walk once again. “Where?”

“Right around here. Gonna blow your minds.” He dramatically says. “Mhm, sure.” I take a breath. “Just see before you give me attitude, [Name].” He tells me.

We get around the building and we see a Wanted poster but it doesn’t show the face of the person, It was ripped off. Only the name showed. “Victor Milgram.” I read out.

“Nice. You think we’ll get a visit from America’s most wanted?” Chris asks and I nudge him for being insensitive. “Looks like someone thought so.” Sam speaks. “oh come on. This place is abandoned most of the year.” He then starts his trail once more. “Nobody comes up here.” I think about how I came here quite a few times with Josh and his parents in the search parties for the twins. Knowing that his statement unfortunately is not true.

Him saying “Ta Dah.” Gets me out of those thoughts for a moment. “Pretty rad right?��

“Yeeeeaaaah.” Sam sarcastically says. I didn’t say anything, I just gave our friend a bored expression. “Come on! Look at these beauties.”

“Beauties is not the word that comes to mind. Why is this even here?” She questions it. “Yeah, I’m not into it.” I agree with her.

“What do you mean?” He looks back to the shooting range. “What the hell is a shooting range doing at the base of a ski lodge?”

“Dude. Have you ever met Josh’s dad? [Name], you out of everyone should know why this is here.” He points to me and I frown, knowing I have to agree with this idiot who thought a gun range would blow our minds.

“Josh’s dad thinks he’s like Grizzly Adam’s or something, for sure.” I whisper to Sam. “Wanna try?” Chris offers the shot gun to both of us. I shake my head. “You go ‘head, Grizzly.” Sam jokes with him after what I just whispered to her. Both of us laughing quietly. “Alright, here goes.” He lifts up the gun, getting it ready. He shoots the first target. He then doesn’t miss a single one and I give him a small applause.

“Wow. Nice shootin’, Tex.” Sam gives him a smile. I do a small cheer for him. “Alright. I’m bad.” Chris starts dancing causing us two to give him dirty expressions. “I’m a badass!”

“I’m gonna go ahead and guess it was a wild case of beginner’s luck.” Sam teases him after his stupid dance. “Nah, I don’t think so girl.” He wags his finger before lifting the gun back up. Shooting another target and getting it. “Well, anybody and their brother could shoot a bottle that big, that close.” She chuckles.

A squirrel shows up and my eyes widen slightly hoping Chris doesn’t go for it. “Don’t do it, Chris.” I mumble but I know he heard me when I saw his gun move to a different area. “Nice shot.”

“Your ass just got saaaacked!”

“Ugh.” I grimace, walking away from them to go back to the front of the building. “You two, our rides coming.” I say, not paying attention to what they’re doing as I head forward. I hear Sam urge Chris to come on. Him whining slightly afterward. I get to the door, trying to open it but it’s locked. I hear Chris say “a year goes fast.” And immediately choose not to ask what they were talking about.

“Hey, the doors locked.” I push on it again, to show them. “Yeaaah, Josh wanted us to keep it locked. Keep people out.” Chris informs me and then I drop my shoulders remembering that conversation we had. “He said that? What people?” Sam furrows her brows.

“He said they found people sleeping in the station one time.” I tell her, vividly seeing the conversation I had with him in my head before packing for this trip. “Creepy.”

Chris shows his key and I get out of the way for him to unlock it. He gets it open and lets us in before him.

“Ah, real gentleman.” Sam goes in, me right behind her. Sam goes to the railing and looks around as I follow Chris. “I thought the car was closer.” She complains. “Guess we gotta wait.” My boyfriend’s best friend responds.

“What a crazy place to set up house. No matter how rich you are.” He stares at a Blackwood Pines poster. “They’re not so rich.” Sam disagrees. “The only bought a mountain.” She sarcastically adds in. I watch Chris walk around the room. Both of our eyes landing on a screen. It looks like cameras surrounding the Washington Cabin. I see a thing of a bedroom and then it clip back to the front of the house. I frown, confused on what we’re looking at.

The cable car sounding closer, we both join Sam back outside. “You coming?” Sam asks Chris as I get in before her. We sit beside one another. “I was gonna catch some z’s but I guess.” He makes a horrible joke. Chris sits on the other side of me.

“Here we go.” I announce as the car moves. “Right, adventure begins.” Chris smiles.

Long awaited chapter :0

Masterlist

Josh M.L.

Taglist: If you want to be added lmk!

@my1fx

261 notes · View notes

howellatme-writes · 3 months ago

Text

Kintsugi

Steven Grant x gn!reader, Marc Spector x gn!reader

Summary: You get into a fight with Marc Spector. You thought he and Steven were twins. He confesses he has DID, you both fight, and you both mutually break up with each other. You really miss them and see a tea set in a thrift store, prompting you to go back to apologize.

Themes and warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort, breakups, exs to lovers, fighting about D.I.D., D.I.D based on the show, crying, hints of abuse but not explicitly mentioned, not beta-read, no use of y/n, gender-neutral reader (If I missed any warnings pls, let me know, and I'll add!)

Word Count: 4.3k

Author's Note: Thank you to @silvernight-m for finding broken/fractured mirror/glass pics of the boys! <3

Retail therapy is supposed to make everything better. You wander down the aisles of the thrift store on a Saturday afternoon. You had a couple of sweaters on your arm, but they didn’t fill the void like you initially thought. Maybe some decor? You look through some old framed posters, and wall art, but nothing catches your eye. Maybe there’s a quirky mug that will put a smile on your face. You look through, and most of them are faded sublimated mugs from cities you never heard of. You chuckle and see one with a frog wearing a cowboy hat sitting on top of a prickly cactus. That did not look comfy. You add that to your retail therapy pile, grasping it by the handle as you wander further down the kitchen section.

Something catches your eye and you stop. A broken deep blue teapot mended with gold, with two teacups to match. You set the frog mug down and pick up the teacup, tracing along the crack repaired with gold, examining the other teacup, you feel your eyes water. Kintsugi, the art of repairing broken pottery with gold, accentuating the breaks that make them more unique and beautiful. You couldn’t believe something so beautiful was sitting on this shelf. You quickly walk around the corner grabbing a basket. You gingerly lay down the sweaters, wrapping up the teapot and cups, wiping your nose with the back of your hand.

“I’ve been trying to tell you I have Dissociative Identity Disorder! Steven is another personality. We’re learning to co-exist…but it’s difficult.”

“What do you mean!?!? Steven said you were twins!”

“Have you ever seen Steven and me in this apartment together? Have you ever wondered why there is only one bed?” Marc had asked with his arms crossed defensively, he pauses and you don’t say a word, “I’m not playing mind games with you!”

“Yeah, yeah. I think you are. You both led me on. If this is some fucked up joke -”

“You think my life is a joke to you? Do you seriously think this is fun for me? Do you think I want to do this with every person I meet? To live like this? I was ready to sit back and let Steven live his life, but then you walked into mine and gave me a reason-!” He had been pacing with his hands trembling in a way that wasn’t like anything you had seen him do before, ”This is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you… But Steven-” You watched him run his hands through his curls, looking like he was at his limit, “He thought you’d be different, thought you’d understand! You know what? Just leave. Get out. GET OUT!”

You had gotten up off the couch as he shouted at you to leave, sick of watching him pace back and forth. You were too upset to understand the complexity, and he was upset that you reacted like everyone else. You grabbed your bag, slung it over your shoulder, and turned towards the door…

You felt his hand grip your wrist, and you turned to see Marc ruffle his hair. But the voice was Steven’s. His eyes were watering with sadness at having his heart broken in real time. “See…it’s me. Messy curls and all.”

You froze. It truly was Steven. You couldn’t explain how you knew, but the body carried itself differently. “No…” you pleaded, shaking your head. You were angry, but now you’re just scared. How could a body or a person go from seething anger to crying desperation so quickly? “No…What’s wrong with you? This is too much.”

“Don’t go.” Steven asks his hand tightening on your wrist, speaking your name softly, “Please don’t go.”

You looked terrified, shaking your head no, and backing up as he tried to step forward. You had refused to see and understand what was right there in front of you, “I don’t know what this is…but I can’t do this.”

“No, no no, please don’t go.” Steven pleaded, but his grip on your wrist loosened, letting your wrist slip through his hand as you told him it was over, not even bothering to zip up your boots as you tripped over his shoes and hurriedly left his apartment for the last time.

It had been a couple of weeks since Marc and you called it off and you walked out of each other's lives. It was mutual in the moment, so why did you feel like shit? You spent the first weekend in bed nursing your broken heart with Ben & Jerry’s. Then as time went by and you started to miss Steven and Marc. You couldn’t walk into a bookstore without looking at the history section for Egyptology books. You could care less about the Cubs, but you were still keeping track of their season to know how Marc was doing. When the museum had a new space exhibit, you knew that was something all 3 of you could enjoy, but you couldn't go by yourself. It confused you, you still referred to them separately even though they were one person. They were one person, right?

You sipped tea from the Egyptian mug that had once been Steven's favorite when he visited. The more you discovered about dissociative identity disorder, the worse you felt. You cried when you realized it was due to childhood trauma, not wanting to imagine what might have caused it. All you could picture was a scared little Marc or Steven, and it broke your heart. You learned some basics about different personalities and better understood why they seem to have memory issues. The next day, you tried to send them a lengthy apology text, but it wouldn’t go through. They had blocked your number.

This led you to the thrift shop, where you checked out the sweaters and the tea set. Cradling them in your arms with both hands, you went home and spent the night with the tea set on the table, internally debating whether you should show up at Marc and Steven’s door with your apology teapot. Would they even open the door for you? Steven might, but you can see Marc pretending he’s not home. Your chest is tight and you feel hot as you bury your face in your hands, paralyzed by indecision. That was until you decided if things couldn’t be fixed between the three of you, you could show them remorse, apologize, and wish them the best. Marc and Steven deserved some kindness. It was the least you could do.

You brace yourself for this conversation, taking a deep breath before finally knocking. Your heart pounding, you pick up the bag with the tea set in anticipation, not knowing what to expect on the other side. You hold your breath and look down at the foot of the door, looking for shadows from movement. Instead, there is deafening silence. You knock again, softer this time. “Marc? Steven?” You asked hesitantly.

Unintelligible whispering on the other side of the door prompts you to continue, “I can hear you. Marc? Steven? Open up, please?” You pause and the hushed whispering stops. “I know you probably don't want to see me again. I get it. I wouldn’t want to see me either. Just- Just hear me out? I promise you can slam the door in my face if you don’t like what I have to say. I promise I won’t come back. Look… I’m sorry about our fight. Can I come in and apologize properly?” You nervously step back as you hear the locks being undone. Your anxiety was high, but now you feel like your heart is going to beat out of your chest. The door opens, and you briefly look him up and down before you guess, ”Marc?”

He propped the door open with his foot, and crossed his arms, “Yeah? What do you want? To apologize, or get those Extended Edition Lord of the Rings DVDs back?”

“It’s not about the- Oh, I forgot about those actually.” you pause and try to recall what else you had left before shaking your head, “I want to apologize…to the system.” you finish, the terminology still foreign on your lips even though you rehearsed this apology in the mirror the night before.

You see him uncross his arms and stand up a little straighter, his lips parting as his brow furrows slightly. He quickly steels himself and gestures to the gift with a tilt of his head to study your intentions. “And what about that?”

“It’s a gift if you'll accept it. I found it at the thrift shop, so if you boys hate it, don’t feel bad about re-donating it,” you explain as he eyes the bag hesitantly. Marc steps back to let you walk in.

“Sorry about the mess. I haven’t been picking up after Steven lately,” he mumbles. Slipping your shoes off, you realize the apartment has been neglected. Dirty dishes in the sink, take-away containers piled on top of the counter, clothes in random places on the floor. Steven always said he was messy, so you wonder if Steven had been the only one fronting for a while. The thought made you sad as you followed him through the small kitchen area to the living room. Marc led you to the couch, and you both sat down on opposite ends. “How have you been?” you asked timidly, putting the gift bag between you on the middle cushion.

Marc is tense as he leans forward, scoffs, shakes his head, and gestures to the mess around you both. “I haven’t. This is all Steven.”

“You're just letting Steven have all of the time? You’re not…present?” you ask worriedly

“Look just do your apology tour and go, okay? I don’t need this, but apparently you do.” Marc said, crossing his arms again and looking at you impatiently.

“Marc, I'm asking because I care. Don’t try to push me away before I-” you cut yourself off before he does. You take a deep breath and let out a shaky sigh, looking down at your hands. “I’m sorry.” you start, flexing your fingers, your thumb pushing into your palm to ground yourself. “I obviously didn’t know about your condition. I didn’t want things to get complicated between us. What he had was simple in comparison. I didn’t want to listen, and I’m sorry about the hurtful things I said to you. I liked the idea of you and Steven as twins. Of course I wondered why Steven was British and you weren’t, or why there was only one bed in this apartment, I didn’t want to look past the answers you gave me. I wanted to believe the simplicity.” you look up at him, his expression is still cold, but you think he breaks for a moment as you wipe your eyes, “We were happy, right? I enjoyed having Steven around, even if you weren’t here. Things just got more complicated when I realized Steven was flirting with me…Then when you told me about DID- It just got a million times more complicated. I-”

Marc stays silent and you fumble with the drawstring of the giftbag as you remember the fight, “I was pissed, but as the days went by I still missed you. I missed Steven. My feelings for you both confused me, but I missed this system. I wanted to understand.”

“Understand why we’re so fucked up in the head?” Marc asks quietly, the edge to his voice disappearing.

“I wanted to understand why your mind does what it does.” You reach across to take his hand in yours, “You’re not fucked up.”

“And what bullshit are you going to spew to make yourself feel better, huh?” Marc asks, taking his hand away.

“Just…open the gift, please?” you plead, pushing it a few inches toward him, biting your lip nervously.

He raises an eyebrow as he takes the gift, rolling up his sleeves slightly to take tissue paper out, glancing at you again as he sees objects wrapped in old newspapers. He takes out the first thing and unwraps it. “A lid?” he sets it on his thigh, grabbing the next piece, unwrapping it, and turning it around in his hands, following the gold, “A tea set. You got us a tea set? This is Steven. This isn’t me,” he observed dryly and placed the teapot on the coffee table and unwrapped the next pile of newspaper.

“Do you know what Kintsugi is?” you ask quietly

“...no,” Marc confessed, holding the unwrapped cup in his hand

“Kintsugi, gold, fixing the cracks in the broken pottery. There’s beauty in mending what’s broken.” You watch him twirl the cup in his hand, looking at the gold seam. “Making the cup prettier and more appreciated. Knowing what the cup had to go through to arrive where it's at.” You take the cup from him, setting it next to the teapot. Surprisingly, he doesn’t resist when you take his hands in yours. “It reminded me of you. It helped me look at D.I.D. in a new light. Marc…your mind is beautiful.”

“...I don’t know if I deserve that.” he gulps, his voice barely a whisper as he looks at the teapot, avoiding your gaze. He looks like he was absorbing the metaphor, and slowly realizing that you did try to take the time to try to understand and do some research. It was more than most people. His walls were finally coming down and he whispered almost as if to himself. “It’s a struggle.”

“Baby…” you whisper tearfully, “I don’t know what happened, or who hurt you.” you look down at his hands, mentally kicking yourself for crying, “but you didn’t deserve it. You were just a little boy, right? No boy deserves what happened to you.” Marc lets out a little exhale and you see his hand tighten around yours. You close your eyes and shake your head, reaffirming, “Your mind is beautiful. Your trauma could have broken you, but your mind did what it could to keep you safe. Steven is your gold, and he's a part of you that I'll be forever thankful for. You're still here because of him. You’re a team.”

He’s silent and you look up at him expecting him to kick you out, but you can tell the analogy caught him off guard. The idea that Steven was the gold fixing his cracks, that together they both made something beautiful hit him hard. Marc’s voice cracks with raw emotion, “Kintsugi��I never thought of it that way…I-” Marc trails off, not knowing what to say.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper and hesitantly wipe away a tear from his cheek as his eyes search yours. The both of you had moved closer to each other without even realizing it, “For everything. I had no idea. I never came across this in real life. I want to understand Dissociative Identity Disorder. I want to understand YOU. I want to understand Steven. This system.”

He whispers your name, “I’m not good at this…I don’t know how to…” His hand covers yours, you can see how much this means to him.

“You’re beautiful…and so strong. I'm sorry,” you repeat softly and set the gift bag with the rest of the set on the coffee table.

To your surprise, he allows himself to be held, burying his head into your neck, his nose rubbing against you. Marc inhales deeply, remembering the sweet scent synonymous with you. His fingers clutch the fabric of your sweatshirt as he trembled. After a long silence you hear him mumble, his voice tinged with a pain you haven’t heard before as he murmurs against your skin, “It was our mom…after our brother died.” Marc didn’t say much more, but you continue to hold him. You tighten your embrace after his admission, trying to wordlessly convey your comfort with touch, rubbing his arm and occasionally running your fingers through his curls, desperately hoping this fragile relationship could be mended.

After a while, you hear Steven say, “You were his gold, too, you know.” He pulls back from you as you gasp. Marc's eyes are red from his silent crying, but Steven looks calm, sad, and composed. “Sorry, Steven again. Hi.” He waved awkwardly, as if he needed to reintroduce himself.

You quickly sniffed and wiped your eyes with the back of your hand. “You startled me, is all.” You shook your head, struggling to recover from Marc’s confession. “...but I'm not his gold. We broke each other’s hearts…Why did Marc go? Is Marc alright?”

“He’s a little overwhelmed right now, but he'll come around,” Steven admitted. Smiling, he looks over at the tea set and grabs a cup to examine, “Curious finding this in a thrift shop, but Gold, huh? Steven Grant, precious Gold keeping it all together? That's not just me, luv. We've both got a lot of cracks, but when you were here…” Steven paused musing, “The cracks didn't seem like they'd break us.”

“I just want you both to be okay.”

“We're trying. It's hard sometimes.” Steven set the cup down and hesitantly played with the delicate chain of the necklace you forgot you were wearing, eventually resting his forehead against yours. His fingers lightly run gingerly over your neck, causing you to shiver, “I think with you around we might just get there. Ya know? Find our balance.”

You could feel his nose brushing yours, his breath fanning over your lips, but you were still so hesitant, “Steven…I don't know how this is supposed to go.”

“I wish I knew. I…I don’t have all the answers,” Steven chuckled, caressing your cheek. In a hushed whisper, glancing down at your lips and meeting your eyes, he confessed, “It's complicated, but I know we both care about you a lot.”

Steven's closeness was intoxicating; he looked like Marc at the moment, but he was distinctly Steven. You couldn’t help but wonder what other ways he was different. With his lips just a breath away from yours, all you could think about is how different it would feel to kiss him, and how badly you craved those lips against yours once again. “Is this something Marc wants too?” You question, not wanting to cross a line Marc might’ve drawn in the sand if he was fronting.

“He does. We both do. We want this. We need you. I need you, luv.” Steven pleaded, “Every day you were the gold that helped keep us together—the constant in our chaotic lives.”

“Oh Steven…That means the world to me.” You murmur your fingers tracing his jawline as you pull back slightly. He misinterpreted you moving back as rejection, but you still held him close and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Can…Marc…is he able to tell me this himself?”

Steven’s posture sags slightly as he says your name, burying his head in your shoulder, “it's not that easy. We can’t control who fronts. Marc hasn’t fronted since you left, ‘cept for just now. Left me here to fend for myself. Come on mate, do us a solid for once.” he grumbles to himself before looking back up at you again.

“The both of you are a team…he can’t leave you like that. Can he hear me?” you ask, your voice cracking slightly at Steven’s admission that Marc hid himself away this whole time.

“Yeah, I’m sure he can hear you, love.” Steven sighed, feeling defeated with Marc’s lack of a response, until you gave in and pressed your lips to his. It was a gentle kiss meant for him as much as it was a kiss for Marc to try and draw him back.

“Marc…I don’t know if you can hear me, but I hope you can.” You start resting your head against Steven’s as his nose nuzzled yours. “I didn’t mean to overwhelm you. I just wanted to show you that I see Steven and you. Marc, please don’t feel like you need to hide from me.” Your fingers run through the messy curls, attempting to soothe Steven and coax Marc into fronting again, “I miss you. We don’t have all the answers, but we can take it day by day, right?” You search Steven’s face for any signal or change, but it was just the same puppy eyes looking back at you, “Anything?”

Steven sighs, shaking his head. He looks around the apartment for some sign in its Marc in a reflection, but all he sees is himself, “Nothing.”

The two of you sit on his couch cuddled up together, if Marc wanted nothing to do with you after tonight, you at least had this night with Steven. It was looking like he wasn’t coming back. You both had tried to relax and watch a documentary. Your head laid on his shoulder and he kept turning to kiss the top of your head, Steven had his arm wrapped around you as you curled into him, his hand resting on your hip, his thumb occasionally rubbing the small patch of exposed skin between your jeans and sweatshirt. You look up at him with a sad smile and heavy heart as the credits roll for the documentary, “Steven…this was nice…but…”

“It was…but…?” Steven worriedly echoed back to you. “But what?”

“I don’t think I can be with one alter, and be the ex of another.” You confess sitting up as he reaches over to turn on the lamp on the side table, “It would be too complicated, wouldn't it? Especially if he doesn’t want to see me again. I can’t do that to Marc.”

Steven gulped and nodded, looking at his reflection in the TV in desperation, then turned to you. He took your hands in his, afraid you were leaving him again. “Can you maybe just wait a little longer?”

You glance at the TV and only see your reflections as the credits roll over the black screen, you look at Steven and the tv again a little confused, “Steven, I-I must have really screwed up. I don’t think I can come back from that fight. He still hasn't forgiven me.”

“Just one more episode, love?” He tried to bargain, eager for you to stay, even if the both of you are in this weird cuddly limbo. “It’s late, but it’s not midnight yet. You can stay over. I’ll sleep on the couch. Maybe he’ll come ‘round in the morning.”

“I don’t know, Steven. I want to stay, but the longer I stay, the harder it will be to leave,” you say quietly, resigning that maybe this is the last time you see both of them, “Maybe he’ll unblock my number and text me if and when he’s ready…”

You feel him reach up to caress your face, holding the back of your head to gently prevent you from getting up, “Don’t go,” he whispers, “Don’t give up on us.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and feel like it’s the last time you left this apartment, Marc had made his choice and left you and Steven to deal with the aftermath when he retreated into the headspace, “He must’ve already made his decision. Please, Steven, haven’t we already cried enough?”

“Lemme say a proper goodbye this time.” He says softly as his fingertips trace your lips.

You purse your lips and finally nod as he leans in for one last kiss, and it’s passionate, desperate. Steven seems filled with an urgency that sends shivers down your spine. He’s gripping at your sweater, your hips, your thighs like he needs to memorize the feel of you, but never wanting to let you go. He’s trying to hold and feel every inch of you for the first and last time. You gasp as you feel his tongue and you’re gripping his curls, losing yourself in the moment, knowing it’s farewell, but wishing the kiss could last for an eternity. You’re both left breathless, knowing that this moment is both an ending and an unspoken wish for something more. You can’t meet his gaze as you reluctantly rise from the couch, wishing you could stay.

You feel a heavy ache in your chest when his hand wraps around your wrist, pulling you back into his lap, just like when you left the apartment last time. Except this time, you’re not scared by the two of them switching who fronts. It’s not Steven begging you for another kiss like you initially thought. “Marc?” you ask in confusion.

“I didn’t block your number just so you could waltz back into my life, hit me with some deep symbolic pottery. You really think I’d let you go after all of that? You’d send me cryptic gifts every other week until I finally get the hint.” Marc laughs dryly. Studying his eyes, you see a maelstrom of hurt, desire, and yearning behind those eyes that weren’t there with Steven moments ago.

“Marc, I-” he kisses you hard as he pulls you in. He groans as your hands slide under his sweater to feel the warm skin of his back, clinging to him like you could keep him fronting if you just held him tight enough. “-I didn’t know what you wanted” He silences you again with his lips as he lays you down on the couch with your legs draped over his lap, hovering over you as he deepened the kiss.

“I want this.” he exhales and murmurs earnestly, his lips still hovering against yours, “I don’t care if I don’t know how to do it right– I just want you. We want a real shot at this– no more hiding behind each other. We can find our way and pick up the pieces. Like Kint-watsit? Suki?”

“Kintsugi.” you smile, interlocking your hand with his, giving it a soft squeeze.

“Kintsugi,” Marc repeats.

#marc spector x reader #marc spector #marc(h) madness #steven grant x reader #steven grant x y/n #steven grant x you #steven grant x gender neutral reader #marc spector x you #marc spector x y/n #steven grant #moon knight system #moon knight #moon knight fanfic #moon knight fandom

85 notes · View notes

miraculouslbcnreactions · 4 months ago

Note

I haven't seen the London special—and I don't want to—but I've read the plot and something just occurred to me.

Why did Bunnyx need Ladybug's help? Why couldn't Bunnyx have figured things out and fixed the timeline herself? I know only the 14-year-old Bunnyx was left, but that gives her ample time to do SOMETHING.

According to Marinette, she believes that the Rabbit Miraculous is actually the most powerful of all the miraculouses. That means a whole lot of responsibility, which she gave to Alix when she let her keep the Rabbit Miraculous PERMANENTLY.

So, why didn't Alix just fix the timelines herself? She was the Present Alix, which means nothing has happened to her at the moment. She could've brainstormed her way into figuring out what happened, who it is, and stopped them herself.

I don't know. Maybe it's just me, but I feel like if you give someone a miraculous that YOU YOURSELF BELIEVE IS THE MOST POWERFUL MIRACULOUS, YOU'D GIVE IT TO SOMEONE WHO CAN ACTUALLY WORK BY THEMSELVES???

And it's not like I'm saying Alix can't ask for help, but it just feels like her first thought was: "I gotta get Ladybug!" And not "Oh my God, the timelines are changing, I have to figure out who it is!"

If Alix is going to run to Ladybug every time the timeline changes, why give her the responsibility of making sure nothing happens to the timeline in the first place??? If it's going to be like that, Ladybug might as well have just kept the Rabbit Miraculous herself, since it seems like she'll be the one shouldering the job anyway.

The show's obsession with making Marinette do everything herself has created massive flaws in the narrative and makes a ton of characters look bad - or at least poorly suited to their hero role - because they generally default to only doing what Marinette tells them to do. The show will even go out of its way to punish characters when they take initiative. If your name isn't Marinette, then initiative is always, always punished. And if your name is Marinette? Then it depends on the writers' mercurial whims and not anything even remotely resembling logic.

Alya suffers the the initiative = bad curse all the time like in Optigami where she decides to take the turtle to the day's fight even though she was only told to take the fox and the bee:

Rena Rouge: Mirage! (an illusion of Ladybug is created) And voila! A cool little Ladybug illusion to keep Style Queen busy while I'll… (Rena Rouge looks at the Turtle Miraculous container on the Miracle Box and takes the Miraculous) Longg: Did the guardian ask you to do that? Rena Rouge: Just a precaution.

This should have been Alya's moment to shine. A moment where she took initiative and it paid off, showing Marinette that she could trust others to make their own calls. Instead, this choice is painted as Alya being blinded by her love for Nino and leads to Shadow Moth almost getting the turtle because he just so happened to make a perfect clone of Nino and Alya unknowingly gave the clone the turtle. (Why does this show love evil twins so much? This is basically a the same plot as the season four final. Get a new gimmick! This one is just dumb.)

Even more annoyingly, the one who unmasks sentiNino isn't his girlfriend, it's Ladybug even though the thing that exposes sentiNino is something unique to Nino and Alya:

Ladybug: I guess it was only here to help repair everything. (looks confused when she sees her compact mirror) (Sentinino gives Alya a simple hi-five) (Ladybug remembers Alya and Nino's special hi-five in a flashback) Ladybug: (looks at both of them with curious look) We're gonna have to be a lot more careful now. Shadow Moth knows the identities of some of the people I have given a miraculous and apparently he's decided to use this information. (looks at Sentinino) Isn't that right, Shadow Moth? (Alya becomes shocked, and Sentinino panicks as he got exposed) Ladybug: I'm sorry Alya, you better move away from him. This isn't Nino, it's a Sentimonster. Alya: Huh? (gasps)

It's Alya and Nino's special handshake!!! Alya should be the one to figure it out, not Ladybug!!! Writers, stop this! Let Marinette have competent allies! She's not suddenly less cool if other people are useful! Also, stop making love a bad thing! Alya and Marinette both suffer every time they're open with their love interest and I hate it. Whatever happened to romantic love being a good thing?

Anyway, all of the Optigami nonsense leads to an ending that makes zero sense:

Alya: Shadow Moth almost unmasked you because of me. I should have never taken the Turtle Miraculous. Marinette: It's true, you did make a mistake, and that's why I'm gonna have to make a difficult decision. The most important thing is to learn from our mistakes. And today, I learned that I need an ally who can replace me in case something happens to me one day. (hands Alya the Fox Miraculous) From now on, you will keep the Miraculous of the Fox with you, and I'm gonna tell you everything I know.

This ending does not fit the episode in the slightest. Why does Alya's failure make her promotion material? How was the turtle even a failure when it would have been fine if that was really Nino? How was anyone supposed to tell that wasn't Nino when the peacock is so stupidly overpowered? It's so dumb!

This episode should have been Alya earning her promotion by being awesome, taking initiative, and noticing things Marinette didn't. What is the point of having a reporter who never notices things? Why does Marinette decide to give Alya secret knowledge and a full-time miraculous in an episode that was all about Shadow Moth almost winning because he knows the temp heroes' identities? Why does nothing about this show make sense? Writers, what are you doing???

The saddest thing about this Marinette-first approach is that it's not even making Marinette look good. This goes beyond the asinine "Marinette must always be wrong" rule. The problem here is that the narrative has made many of the secondary characters feel incredibly important. As a result, the audience naturally expects those characters to have important roles. When those character are then denied the roles that they should have, the audience gets angry and the anger usually gets directed at Marinette. For many viewers, it feels like she's hogging the spotlight and denying herself help even thought those things are poorly thought-out choices made by the writers and not intentional flaws that are meant to be part of Marinette's character.

I know one person whose favorite character is Alix, Alya is one of mine, and a huge portion of the fandom loves Adrien. All characters who should have been allowed to shine, but who got shoved to the side in favor of Marinette. The casual watcher is not going to blame the writing for that. They're going to get mad at Marinette because she's basically the avatar of the bad writing, forced to do the most asinine things so that she maintains the spotlight even if it's slowly killing her character while making every other character look pathetic and/or ineffectual.

#blckwhtepersona #Alix deserves better #Alya deserves better #Marinette deserves a vaction #ml writing critical #ml writing salt

77 notes · View notes

hkthatgffan · 3 months ago

Note

What are your thoughts on the Pines parents? Particularly since the reveal of them having marital issues in TBOB?

I'm pretty conflicted tbh. Part me finds the revelation interesting and a pretty insane new layer to add on to the show's established canon, but I also feel like it could be another case of Gravity Falls fans taking flour and trying to predict what kind of buffet Alex is cooking.

In the case for the assumption this is hinting at the twin's parents having marriage issues and going towards say, a divorce, we have small hints in series that could be assumed as that, from Dipper's initial worry of leaving Mabel alone in Cali without him, Mabel's own fears of growing up without Dipper and the future itself, the abruptness as it sounds of them being sent to Gravity Falls, etc.

Of course, we also have the fact that Alex Hirsch's parents themselves are divorced IRL and him and Ariel grew up with their mom. And as they both are the inspiration for Dipper and Mabel, this can be a case of Alex hinting at that and adding another element of his life to them.

It course also somewhat goes counter to his past statements about how we never really are gonna learn anything about the twin's parents, because he doesn't see them as characters we need to know about as the story is focused on the twin's in Summer with Stan and Ford (I mean, all we initially knew was that their dad worked with computers and got Mabel's night shirt at a Windows 95 event, lol). So, adding this to the pot does feel like a pretty major change in direction.

That said, on the other hand, it could just be that...marriage issues the two of them are working to fix. Perhaps they sent the twins away while they sought couples therapy or something to mend things before the kids got back. We can also make the assumption Dipper may have overheard something that he mistook as being more serious than it was.

I say this from personal experience. I've often overheard arguments or pretty heated stuff my parents were yelling about that I probably was not supposed to hear or assumed the wrong thing about and it left me worried about if well...you know. Thankfully that never was the case and as I've gotten older I've come to better understand that sometimes parents fight but they can resolve things on their own in time. Though as kids, that shit can scare you, especially someone at Dipper's age. And while not all parents probably can resolve those matters the same way, it's always a possibility worth assuming here, especially with the little info we know. I mean, Bill said "Why do you think they were in such a rush to get the kids out the door for the summer?" It sounds like he's asking us fans to make our own guess on that.

And speaking of Bill...there's the Bill factor to consider too. Remember, who wrote this?

BILL CIPHER! And Bill is about as reliable a source for accurate info as the US government or Doug Ford is when it comes to Line 5 or why he REALLY closed the Science Centre (IYKYK).

Many fans doubt the truthfulness of what Bill said in the book. So, he could just be making this up and Dipper may never have had that dream to begin with. Of course, it would be weird for Alex to make a book full of lies about the show, but then...this is Alex Hirsch we're talking about.

Personally, I believe Dipper did have this nightmare and he overheard something intense. But as to what it's alluding to...I'm not sure.

I think this is another case of Alex Hirsch leaving the question open ended. What's up with the twin's parents? That's for us fans to decide.

If you believe they're divorcing, you can. If you think it's nothing and Dipper is over-worrying about an argument his parents had, you can. And if you think it's BS and Bill made it up, you can too.

That's again the beauty of Gravity Falls leaving itself open ended. Every headcanon and theory is possible. I mean, fans believed for years Bill was in Stan's mind till this very book killed that theory off for good.

Maybe in several years if Alex decides to, he'll expand on this plot point and answer the question once and for all. But for now, what the deal with Dipper and Mabel's parents is, will remain...

112 notes · View notes

moonselune · 10 months ago

Text

By the Silk that Binds Us (pt.4)

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Matron!Minthara x Forced!Betrothed!reader

An arranged marriage, enemies to lovers fic: part one part two part three part five

CW: feminine drow reader, catching feelings (involuntarily), mention of blood, open wounds, transformation, this is all my own interpretation of drow lore

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The library of House Baenre was a vast labyrinth of knowledge, its towering shelves filled with ancient tomes and forbidden texts. The dim light of nearby luminescent fungi filtered through the high windows, casting a fluorescent glow across the room. It was well past midnight, and the library was usually deserted at this hour. Yet tonight, two figures—Kyorlin and Lesaonar—were engaged in a quiet conversation, their voices hushed as they wandered among the stacks.

Arys, Minthara’s nephew, had been tasked with getting closer to the Liakyre twins, to then ply them for information about their older sister. When he saw them alone in the library, he thanked Lolth and seized the opportunity. He was not going ot fail the Matron.

“Evening, gentlemen,” Arys greeted with a grin, holding up a bottle of whiskey. The soft clink of glass against glass as he walked drew their attention.

The twins turned to face him, their expressions shifting from surprise to cautious interest. Arys approached, the whiskey bottle held out as an offering.

“A little late-night libation?” he suggested, his tone friendly. “I figured it might be nice to have a drink and chat." He then leaned towards them and dropped into a low conspiratol tone "Us men have to stick together after all.”

Kyorlin and Lesaonar exchanged weary glances, they had been cautious around the other members of House Baenre, they knew it was safer to keep quiet and out of the way, but then again an ally could never hurt. So, they nodded in agreement.

The three of them settled into comfortable chairs near a low table, the bottle of whiskey opened and poured into goblets. The rich, amber liquid swirled gently in the dim light. The initial awkwardness of their meeting quickly dissipated as the warmth of the whiskey took effect. As they drank, the conversation turned to their experiences in House Baenre. The twins seemed eager to share their thoughts and Arys smiled, this is exactly what he wanted.

“You know, Arys,” Lesaonar began, a hint of amusement in his voice, “we actually get treated better here than we ever did back in House Liakyre. It’s hard to believe, but it’s true.”

Arys raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Really? I’d have thought House Baenre would be far more… intense for you guys. ”

“Oh, it is intense,” Kyorlin admitted with a laugh, “I can imagine that without our dear sister's protection here we would already be dead by now. But back at Liakyre, the female members—sisters, aunts, cousins—were always picking on us, bullying us. Here, they don’t even bother with us. It’s like we’re invisible, which, honestly, is a very nice change.”

Lesaonar nodded in agreement. “The libraries here are amazing, too. We were never allowed such access to resources back at our old house. We weren't deemed worthy enough. This-" Lesaonar gestured to the towers of books around them "-Is a whole new world.”

Arys chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe it. I always thought the Liakyres were a soft house, that you boys would have got off lightly, maybe even have a few third sons kicking about. You weren't exactly high up in the ranks.”

“You would think that,” Kyorlin said, taking a sip of his drink. “But our matron- mother, even, was dilligent. Brutally so, a devout and traditional follower of Lolth. I personally believe she was delighted when she had twin boys, it meant that she was able to sacrifice every son born after us - and she did. It got to a point where she was praying for boys, just so she could make a show of her love to Lolth.”

Arys’s curiosity was piqued. “What about your sister, Y/N? I've heard she is a dedicated follower of Lolth, is she like your mother?”

Lesaonar’s expression softened slightly, a hint of fondness in his eyes. “No, she isn’t, at all. Y/N was actually the kindest of them all. Her love for Lolth is natural, our mother's was desperate."

"She despised Y/N for it, often sent her off to darkest parts of the underdark, hoping she would never come back, but she always did." Kyorlin said with a light smile, as if reminscing on a funny memory.

"Just because of her connection with Lolth? Or because of what she did at the engagement party with that hook horror?" Arys pressed and he noticed Kyorlin visisbly tense.

Lesaonar, however, had been swept away by the whiskey's effects and before Kyorlin could stop him, words tumbled from his mouth and he gestured with a dramatic flair. "Of course, she was envious that Y/N was such an emblem of our divine heritage-"

"-That is quite enough for tonight!" Kyorlin interrupted his twin, snatching his drink from him. Arys smiled, he was clearly on to something and Lesaonar had let enough information slip for him to get the Matron off of his back. Kyorlin helped Lesaonar to his feet and turned curtly to Arys. "Thank you, Arys, tonight has been a pleasure but I fear the whiskey has gone to my brother's head."

"Worry not, we are going to be family in a few days. Been a pleasure to get to know the both of you." Arys nodded to them as they left, he had all that he needed.

After a celebratory drink for himself, Arys made his way out of the library, the bottle of whiskey nearly empty and a satisfied smirk on his face. He had successfully gleaned useful information from Kyorlin and Lesaonar, and he was eager to report back to Minthara.

As he made his way through the dimly lit corridors, his footsteps echoed faintly against the stone walls. He was so focused on his pride that he barely noticed the soft patter of footsteps behind him.

Suddenly, Kyorlin appeared out of nowhere, his expression grim and his movements quick. Without warning, Kyorlin swung a heavy book from a nearby shelf at Arys. The blow caught Arys off guard, sending him crashing to the floor. The sharp impact of the blow to his head caused a burst of pain and disorientation. Blood trickled from the wound on his forehead, staining the stone floor and before Arys could react, the darkness enveloped him, and he lost consciousness.

When Arys came to, he was lying on a cot in the infirmary of House Baenre, wounded guards and soldiers lay groaning around him, most wounds probably inflicted by the women of the house. His head throbbed with a dull ache, and a warm, sticky sensation on his face alerted him to a trickle of blood running from a cut above his eyebrow. He struggled to sit up, disoriented and confused.

A healer, an elderly female drow, most likely a great great aunt of his, with a stern expression, stood over him, her hands deftly applying a cool compress to his head. Her eyes were narrowed in disapproval.

“Careless fool,” she muttered, her voice stern and authoritative. “Getting drunk in the library and falling over. You’re lucky those Liakyre twins found you before anyone else did.”

Arys blinked, trying to piece together the events leading up to his current predicament. “The twins? Kyorlin and Lesaonar?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

The healer nodded curtly. “Yes, they found you lying on the floor of the library. They brought you here and took care of you. I must say, you’re fortunate they were able to intervene before more serious harm occurred."

Arys's mind raced as he tried to remember what had happened, but his memory was hazy. The events from the library, the conversation with Kyorlin and Lesaonar, and the details about Y/N seemed to be slipping through his fingers like sand.

“Did-did they say anything important?” he asked, his anxiety growing.

The healer gave him a puzzled look. “They didn’t mention much. Kyorlin said something about you getting drunk and falling, but he didn’t elaborate."

Frustrated and disoriented, Arys tried to recall the conversation with the twins, but the details eluded him. The whiskey had clearly affected his memory, as had the fall and he felt a pang of frustration and fear that he would not be able to report anything to his aunt. The wedding was only a few nights away and if he hadn't brought any useful information to the Matron by then, then he was sure that his own mother would sacrifice him and offer him as a wedding gift to the couple.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The grand hall of House Baenre was abuzz with the preparations for the grand ceremony tomorrow. The space, with its opulent drow architecture, was being meticulously fussed over for the upcoming wedding by an array of servants and lower family members keen to rise through the familial ranks. The rehearsal, a necessary formality, was underway with the High Priestess presiding over the proceedings, while you and Minthara stood side by side, ready to go through the motions of the ceremony.

Minthara’s posture was relaxed but betrayed an evident lack of interest. She leaned against a stone column, her expression bored, and her eyes glazed over as the High Priestess explained the order of the ceremony.

“The ceremony will commence with a prayer to Lolth, invoking her blessings and ensuring her favor upon this union,” she explained, her voice echoing in the cavernous hall. “This will be followed by the binding blood vow, where both parties pledge their eternal commitment.”

Minthara’s eyes glazed over further, clearly disinterested, though she nodded occasionally, if only to maintain the pretense of attentiveness.

“The next step,” the High Priestess continued, her tone unwavering, “is the cutting off of the House Liakyre symbol from your body, Y/N, and its replacement with the House Baenre symbol, on your neck to match Minthara's."

You shifted uncomfortably at the mention of the tattoo removal and couldn't help but notice that Minthara's interest piqued at the mention of it, a small smile appearing on her lips. She would be the one to slice it from your skin, and brand you with your new House mark. The thought of losing a symbol so deeply connected to your identity was unsettling, as was the nausea that came with it, though you tried to push the unease aside.

At this point, now teased with more exciting matters, Minthara’s usual veneer of control slipped slightly. Her lips curled into a subtle snarl. “And what about the toast?”

The High Priestess’s eyes narrowed slightly at Minthara’s interruption but she continued as if unaffected. “After the new tattoo is applied, there will be a toast, followed by the banquet. The drinks served to you will contain Menzoberranzan love magic, ensuring the bonding process expected later in the night is completed effectively.”

Both you and Minthara stiffened at the High Priestess’s words. Minthara’s expression transformed from irritation to shock, her eyes wide with outrage. You, too, were taken aback by the unexpected and rather vulgar revelation. The thought of a magical enhancement to facilitate intimacy was not something either of you had anticipated.

“This is absurd!” Minthara’s voice was sharp, betraying her anger. “You can’t be serious. This is an outrage.”

You nodded in agreement, feeling a flush of embarrassment. “Yes, this is crossing a line!”

The High Priestess raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with your reactions. “Grow up, both of you. It’s merely a ritualistic practice to ensure the union is properly sealed. It is in the privacy of your own quarters and it’s just sex—nothing more, though if it is something more then all the better for House Baenre.”

"As if." "I would rather turn into a drider."

“Enough,” the High Priestess said, her voice cutting through the tension. “The ceremony is tomorrow. You both need to rest and prepare yourselves. This rehearsal is over.”

Without waiting for a response, she turned on her heel and began to walk away, her robes trailing behind her like a flowing river of crimson. You crossed your arms looking up at Minthara with a scowl, Minthara scoffed, putting her hands on her hips.

The High Priestess’s dismissive attitude only fueled your outrage and frustration. As she swept away, her crimson robes flowing like a river of silk, you turned to Minthara, who stood with her arms crossed and a scowl etched into her features. The air between you was charged with tension, every word an electric spark.

Minthara’s frustration burst forth like a dam breaking. “This is all your fault. I could have just obliterated your entire house and been done with it, but no, you had to sneak away and find some ethereal loophole. You’ve dragged me into this farce of a wedding.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Minthara,” you shot back, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “It’s my fault you were too blinded by your own bloodlust to consider there might be other options. I had no idea I was dealing with someone who thought slaughtering my entire house was a viable solution.”

Minthara’s eyes narrowed, her irritation barely contained. “You think this is funny? This wedding, this ceremony—everything about it is a nightmare. And it’s all because of your stubbornness and your insipid refusal to accept reality.”

“Reality?” you countered sharply. “You know, for someone who claims to be so powerful, the mightiest in Menzoberranzen, you sure do complain a lot.”

The argument continued as you both stormed down the corridors of House Baenre, your footsteps echoing off the cold, dark stone walls. Minthara’s heels clicked furiously against the ground, each step a testament to her frustration. You matched her pace, your own anger simmering as you exchanged barbed comments.

“If you had any sense of responsibility, you’d have thought this through before you dragged me into your mess,” Minthara snapped.

“And if you had any sense of decency, you wouldn’t have murdered my entire family, forcing my hand.” you shot back, the words barely hiding your exasperation.

The quarrel continued unabated as you reached the separate quarters designated for the night. As was traditional, the night before the wedding required that you both sleep apart, a formality steeped in ancient customs. The thought of having to spend the night without Minthara’s presence was both frustrating and unsettling.

As you reached the door to your quarters, Minthara stopped abruptly, facing you with a final scowl. “Enjoy your night alone. Maybe you’ll finally get some clarity on how you’ve managed to make everything worse.”

“And you, Minthara,” you replied, “try not to let the weight of your own bitterness crush you before the ceremony.”

With a final huff, Minthara pushed past you and slammed her door shut with a resounding thud. You watched the door close, the sound reverberating through the corridor.

You turned and entered your own quarters, the room meticulously prepared with fine furnishings and dark, rich drapery. You paced the room restlessly, your anger giving way to an unsettling sense of emptiness.

Lying on the bed, you stared up at the ceiling, your mind racing with thoughts of the looming ceremony. The more you tried to focus on anything but Minthara, the more her absence became a palpable void. The bed felt too large, the space too empty.

Meanwhile, in her own quarters, Minthara was equally restless. She paced her room, the luxurious furnishings and the meticulously arranged décor doing little to soothe her frayed nerves. The silence of her room was as unnerving as it was lonely. You weren't muttering your prayers, indulging in an absurdly long night time routine. Despite her irritation, she couldn’t shake the feeling of missing something—or rather, someone.

Eventually, both of you found yourselves lying awake in your respective beds, staring at the ceiling, the quiet of the night amplifying your thoughts and frustrations. The realization dawned that despite the heated bickering, there was a certain sense of connection and familiarity that had been strangely comforting. The absence of that presence was felt deeply, and meditation eluded both of you as you grappled with your thoughts.

The night had dragged on with restless thoughts and a growing sense of unease. Exhaustion finally overcame you, and you slipped into a meditative trance, hoping for some respite before the impending ceremony. In the quiet of the room, you found a semblance of peace, the rhythmic rise and fall of your breath guiding you towards a state of calm.

Just as you were beginning to drift into a deeper state of relaxation, the serenity was shattered by the loud creak of your door. You jolted awake, blinking against the sudden influx of light and noise. The door swung open to reveal a flurry of movement as a group of young girls, no older than fourteen or fifteen, stormed into the room. Their chatter and giggles filled the air, a cacophony of youthful exuberance that was anything but peaceful.

The girls, dressed in colorful and somewhat mismatched garments, scattered around the room, dropping various items on the floor and chattering excitedly. They carried brushes, jars of oils, and an assortment of fabric, which they began to arrange haphazardly around the room.

Kyorlin and Lesaonar entered behind them, their expressions a mix of curiosity and amusement. You looked at them, bewildered.

“By the demon's web, what is going on?” you demanded, struggling to sit up against the tangle of blankets and pillows.

The twins exchanged glances before Kyorlin shrugged nonchalantly. “We have no idea. We were just told to bring them to you.”

One of the servants who had entered with the girls stepped forward, offering an apologetic smile. “As Matron Baenre understands that you have no female relatives to assist you, she has sent these girls to help you get ready for the ceremony. It’s her way of ensuring you’re properly prepared.”

The realization hit you like a cold wave. This was no act of kindness or generosity; it was a clear attempt to pass off the unruly young girls onto you, so the Matron wouldn’t have to deal with them herself. It was a tactical move, a way of keeping them out of her hair while she focused on her own preparations.

The girls, oblivious to your annoyance, began to tug at your sleep garments and hair, their energy boundless. They giggled and chatted as they pulled at your clothes, chattering about hairstyles and makeup, their fingers too eager and too rough. It was clear that their idea of assistance was more chaotic than helpful.

Feeling a mix of frustration and desperation, you turned to Kyorlin and Lesaonar. “Can you two perhaps go and pray for me in the chapel? It seems I could use some divine intervention right now.”

Kyorlin and Lesaonar looked at each other, a smirk playing on their lips as they took in the scene before them.

“Pray for you?” Lesaonar echoed with a grin. “Or pray for a miracle to get us out of this madness?”

Kyorlin’s expression softened slightly. “We’ll go,” he said with a chuckle. “It seems like you could use some peace and quiet. We'll see you at the ceremony, dear sister.”

With that, they exited the room, leaving you to the chaotic whirlwind of young girls. As they bustled around you, their laughter and chatter gradually began to fade into the background of your mind. You were left to endure their relentless enthusiasm, trying to stay calm despite the overwhelming noise and activity.

The young girls swarmed around you with a flurry of questions, their voices rising in a cheerful, chaotic crescendo. They seemed to have no sense of personal space, their faces close to yours as they eagerly awaited your responses. You could barely keep up with their rapid-fire inquiries as they tugged at your garments and pushed various accessories into your hands.

“Where’s your wedding dress?” one of them asked, her eyes wide with excitement as she peered into the open wardrobe.

“How are you going to style your hair?” another chimed in, her fingers already brushing through your locks with the kind of enthusiasm that only a young girl could muster.

“Are you going to fight anyone during the ceremony?” asked a third, her face a mix of curiosity and awe.

“Are you going to use your powers?” the last girl queried, her eyes sparkling with a blend of admiration and anticipation.

You took a deep breath, trying to maintain your composure amidst the whirlwind of questions.

“My dress is being prepared by the seamstresses. As for my hair, well, I haven’t quite decided yet. I might leave it to the skilled hands of you young ladies.” You glanced at the older girls who were already starting to work on your hair, their excitement palpable. “And no, there won’t be any fighting during the ceremony. It’s all about unity and devotion. As for my powers, they’re not really part of the ceremony. They’re something I reserve for more pressing matters.”

The girls seemed somewhat satisfied with your answers, but their curiosity remained unabated. Their chatter continued, and you could see their faces lighting up with interest. In an effort to calm the scene and make the best of the situation, you decided to offer them a distraction.

“You know,” you began, your tone shifting to one of storytelling, “since you’re all so eager to know about me, how about I tell you a story while you do my hair?”

The girls’ eyes widened with delight, and they all gathered closer, their attention now fully focused on you allowing the older girls to work on your hair with less chaos.

“Alright, let me tell you about the time I had to go to the surface.” You began, weaving your tale with an air of intrigue.

“It was years ago,” you continued, “when I was sent on a mission to the surface world. Everyone says the surface is a terrible place, filled with danger and discomfort, and I’ll admit, I had my doubts. The light up there—oh, it’s so harsh and blinding compared to our soft, ambient glow. And the air, so dry and warm. It felt like walking through a blazing inferno.”

The girls gasped, clearly captivated by your description. One of them, with wide eyes, asked, “Was it as bad as they say it is?”

You nodded solemnly. “At first, it was overwhelming. The sun burned my skin, and I had to be careful not to let the light blind me. The surface world is a place of harsh contrasts compared to the Underdark. But I managed to survive by staying in the shadows as much as possible and using my knowledge of the surface’s geography to navigate through it. It’s a different kind of danger, one that requires patience and cunning.”

Another girl, clearly intrigued, asked, “How did you manage to stay safe?”

“I had to be very cautious,” you explained. “I used cloaking spells to hide from prying eyes and relied on my wits to avoid the more dangerous creatures of the surface. I even learned a few tricks to blend in with the surface-dwellers, though that wasn’t always easy. The key was to adapt and use every bit of knowledge I had to my advantage.”

The girls listened intently, their previous frenzy momentarily forgotten as they absorbed your tale. Their hands worked diligently through your hair, carefully arranging it as they listened to your story with rapt attention.

“So, you survived all of that?” one of them asked, awe in her voice.

“Yes,” you confirmed with a nod. “And I returned with a deeper understanding of the surface world. It’s not as simple as the stories make it out to be, but it’s not entirely the nightmare some say it is either. It’s a world full of challenges, but also of opportunities.”

The girls exchanged impressed glances, clearly impressed by your resilience and resourcefulness. Their chatter slowed as they focused on their task, and you could see the newfound respect in their eyes.

As the girls finished arranging your hair, their lively chatter slowly faded, replaced by a more subdued and focused energy. The transformation in the room was palpable; the earlier chaos had been replaced by an air of contented productivity.

Just then, a servant entered the room, carrying a beautifully wrapped bundle. The girls’ eyes immediately widened with curiosity, and they gathered around the servant as he carefully unwrapped the bundle to reveal your wedding dress.

A collective gasp of admiration escaped from the girls as they saw the dress. They circled around it, their faces lit up with awe and delight. “Oh, it’s so beautiful!” one of them exclaimed, her voice full of wonder.

“It looks so elegant!” another girl chimed in, her eyes sparkling.

Their enthusiastic reactions warmed your heart. It was clear that they were genuinely impressed, and it was a comforting change from the earlier frustration and chaos. You couldn’t help but smile at their genuine appreciation, feeling a sense of connection with these young, spirited girls.

The servant, noticing the girls’ fascination, cleared his throat to get their attention. “Ladies, you need to leave now. We have other preparations to attend to, and you must be ready to greet the guests soon.”

The girls, though reluctant, knew better than to argue. They cast one last longing look at the dress before reluctantly shuffling toward the door. “We’ll miss you!” one of them said, her voice tinged with sadness.

“See you at the ceremony!” another added, giving you a bright smile before exiting the room.

Once they were gone, the room seemed quieter, their youthful energy having left an almost palpable mark. You stood by the mirror, taking in your reflection. The sense of camaraderie you had shared with the girls lingered, making you feel unexpectedly lighter.

Now the girls were gone, the servant held the dress up to you. "It is time."

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The grand hall of House Baenre was a magnificent spectacle of dark elegance. The rich crimson and obsidian banners draped from the walls, their opulent fabric catching the flickering light of the many torches. A hushed reverence hung in the air, only heightened by the murmurs of the elite of Menzoberranzan who had gathered to witness the grand wedding ceremony.

At the altar, Minthara stood like a figure from a dark legend. She was clad in her ceremonial regalia—a striking blend of armor and finery that showcased her status and power. Her dress was an elaborate piece of art, a seamless fusion of practicality and splendor. The armor was adorned with intricate patterns of red and black, the colors of House Baenre, and it accentuated her commanding presence. The armor, polished to a high sheen, caught the light in a way that emphasized her formidable and fierce demeanor.

Minthara’s light purple skin contrasted sharply with the dark fabric of her attire, giving her an ethereal, almost otherworldly appearance. Her white hair was styled meticulously, cascading in silken waves down her back and framing her sharp, striking features. The house Baenre sigil was emblazoned across her neck in a bold tattoo, a mark of her dominance and heritage. It was impossible to ignore the intense gaze she cast over the assembled guests, a mix of pride and cold calculation in her eyes.

The High Priestess and the acolyte stood beside Minthara at the altar, both figures imposing in their own right. The High Priestess, with her elaborate robes of dark violet and silver, held a commanding presence that matched the gravity of the occasion. Her ornate staff, topped with a symbol of Lolth, rested beside her, its presence a reminder of the divine power that governed the ceremony.

The guests—elite members of Menzoberranzan society—filled the seats, their whispers creating a low murmur of anticipation. They were the crème de la crème of drow society, their attire as elaborate as the occasion demanded. The front row was reserved for your family, though it was glaringly empty apart from Kyorlin and Lesaonar.

The moment arrived with the soft sound of the chamber doors opening, revealing you in all your ceremonial splendor. The room fell into an awed silence as you began your walk up the aisle, every step measured and graceful, drawing the collective gaze of the assembly.

You were enveloped in a dress that seemed to transcend mortal craftsmanship. The fabric, a delicate blend of shimmering silk and ethereal spiderweb patterns, clung to your form with an almost otherworldly elegance. It was as though Lolth herself had spun a cocoon around you, the silk’s iridescent sheen reflecting the candlelight and casting a faint, ghostly glow around you. The dress flowed behind you like a silken waterfall, trailing behind you in a whisper of movement that seemed both fluid and majestic.

Your hair was styled with meticulous precision, two sharp curls cascaded down the sides of your face. These curled strands were reminiscent of spider pincers, framing your features in a way that emphasized your otherworldly beauty. The rest of your hair was pulled back, accentuating the intricate work of the dress and the delicate silver adornments that accentuated your collarbone.

Silver spider legs were strategically placed along your body, their intricate design accentuating the curves and lines of your form. Two legs arched beneath your collarbone, glinting subtly as they caught the light. Another set adorned the curve of your bust, emphasizing the elegance of your silhouette, while additional sets traced your hips and thighs, creating a cascading effect that drew the eye and added a touch of both elegance and danger.

The glossy finish of your makeup made your red eyes stand out with a fierce intensity, their piercing gaze capturing the attention of everyone present.

As you made your way up the aisle, Minthara’s breath caught in her throat. Her eyes widened in a mixture of awe and admiration, her typically composed demeanor momentarily faltering as she took in the sight of you. You looked like a divine gift from Lolth herself, a vision of beauty and power that left her momentarily breathless.

Your approach was marked by the soft, almost melodic swish of your dress and the respectful silence of the assembled guests. Minthara’s eyes followed you with an intensity that spoke of both reverence and longing, her own fierce beauty momentarily overshadowed by your ethereal presence.

The High Priestess and the acolyte observed the entrance with approving nods, the former's stern expression softening just a fraction. The ceremony had now reached its pinnacle, with you as the centerpiece, a radiant embodiment of Lolth’s favor.

The grand hall was bathed in the flickering glow of countless candles, their flames dancing in the hushed reverence of the ceremony. With a solemn nod, the High Priestess raised her arms, her voice resonating through the hall as she began the ancient prayer to Lolth. The chant was a haunting melody, woven with words of devotion and supplication, invoking the favor of the Spider Queen upon the union about to be sealed.

You stood beside Minthara, your gaze fixed ahead, though you could feel her intense stare burning into you. A slight, almost imperceptible smile touched your lips as you tried to maintain your composure under the weight of her scrutiny.

The High Priestess concluded the prayer and turned her attention to the next phase of the ceremony: the binding blood vow. The acolyte stepped forward, presenting a ceremonial dagger with an ornate hilt. The dagger’s blade glinted ominously in the candlelight as it was passed to the High Priestess.

The High Priestess took the dagger and approached you. With precise, practiced movements, she made a shallow cut on your palm, the pain sharp but brief. The blood that welled up was immediately captured by the High Priestess, who then turned to Minthara. She made a similar incision on Minthara’s palm.

The words of the vow began to echo through the hall, the High Priestess guiding you both as you repeated the ancient promises of loyalty to each other and to House Baenre. You vowed not only your fidelity to the house but also a solemn promise to never bring harm to each other, pledging to protect and uphold the sanctity of your union.

As you spoke the words, you noticed a sudden and alarming change in Minthara’s demeanor - and not just the grimace from swearing she would never be able to bring harm against you. Her face grew pale, and a look of weakness and disorientation crossed her features. It was as if a wave of illness had washed over her, and she swayed slightly on her feet.

Instinctively, you reached out and grasped Minthara’s hand, intertwining your fingers with hers. The mingling of your blood, open wound on open wound, had an immediate effect. Minthara’s pallor quickly faded, and her strength seemed to return as the warmth of her body stabilized.

From the corner of your eye, you caught sight of the acolyte’s face. There was a momentary flicker of something sinister in her expression before they quickly masked it with a neutral demeanor. You gripped Minthara's hand reassuringly, but were just met with her narrowed accusatory eyes, whatever had just happened was evidenlty your fault somehow.

The ceremony continued, with the High Priestess’s gaze flickering between you and Minthara, noting the strange turn of events but choosing to proceed with the rites regardless, you believe she was just happy that you both made it there alive. Your shared blood dripped from each other's palms, landing in the alter below, as it fell it pooled and spread into Lolth's insignia, a sign of approval.

After what felt like an age the binding blood vow was complete, a rush of sharp magic danced across each of your palms as you flinched away from each other, only to realise your wounds had both been healed. Servants attended to you both, ensuring that you were cleaned up and presentable.

"Now, for Y/N Liakyre to shed herself from the past, and embrace her new future as Mistress Y/N Baenre, Wife of Matron Minthara Baenre." The high priestess announced and an involuntary shiver racked through you, you were not looking forward to this. Mainly as Minthara would be the one slicing your beloved House mark from your skin, and considering she thought you just tried to poison her, you were certain she was going to be anything but quick about it.

The ceremony continued with a palpable sense of anticipation hanging in the air. The High Priestess’s announcement rang out clearly, declaring the next phase of the ritual. “Now, for Y/N Liakyre to shed herself from the past and embrace her new future as Mistress Y/N Baenre, Wife of Matron Minthara Baenre.”

A shiver ran through you, a blend of apprehension and anticipation. You knew what was coming—Minthara, the one you were still getting to know, would be the one to remove your house sigil. The thought of her performing this act, particularly under the shadow of the recent incident, filled you with unease. You had braced yourself for an uncomfortable ordeal, expecting the worst given the tension between you.

To your surprise, however, Minthara approached you with an unexpected gentleness. Her eyes, though guarded, were soft as she prepared to perform the task. The intricate dagger she held, - her personal favourite, you noted - glinted ominously in the candlelight, but her touch was surprisingly delicate.

Minthara’s hand was steady as she positioned the blade near your wrist. Her fingers, though firm, were careful as they traced the outline of your House Liakyre sigil. You felt the cold metal of the dagger as it made contact with your skin, but instead of the anticipated pain, her movements were precise and controlled. There was an almost reassuring quality to her touch.

As the blade began its work, Minthara leaned in slightly, her breath warm against your ear. “I will make this as swift and painless as possible,” she murmured, her voice a low whisper that carried both assurance and an unexpected tenderness.

The edge of the dagger sliced through the skin with an efficiency that took you by surprise. Despite the sting of the incision, Minthara’s soft praise was oddly comforting.

Once the sigil was completely severed from your skin, Minthara gripped the wound with one hand, her touch surprisingly soothing. You could feel the warmth of her magic as she began the healing process. The sensation of her healing spell was like a gentle wave washing over you, numbing the pain and closing the wound.

As the healing magic worked, Minthara's other hand moved to your neck. With a deliberate, yet gentle motion, she traced the Baenre sigil onto your skin. Her touch was careful and meticulous, her nail guiding the sigil’s shape with an almost artistic precision. The sensation was both hot and cold—a duality that made you wince but also marvel at the intensity of the moment.

The sigil burned into your skin with a searing warmth, and you could not help but flinch slightly, even though you tried to remain still. Minthara’s face was close to yours, her gaze intense as she focused on her task. When she finished, she inspected the mark closely, her expression a blend of satisfaction and relief.

As she pulled away, your eyes locked with hers, and in that moment, something shifted between you. You hadn't realised it but you were holding her hand that she had just healed you with, a connection that felt both intimate and profound. The urge to kiss her was almost overwhelming, a sudden, unspoken understanding passing between the both of you.

Before you could act on the impulse, the High Priestess’s voice cut through the charged silence. “Now that the mark is complete,” she announced with a tone of finality, “let us proceed with the final rites of the ceremony. The toast.”

The intrusion of the High Priestess’s voice shattered the moment, and you and Minthara were abruptly reminded of the ritualistic nature of the event. You quickly withdrew your hand from Minthara’s, trying to steady your breathing and regain composure. Minthara cleared her throat as if she had not been victim to the same fleeting feelings as you.

As you and Minthara turned toward the altar, the final stage of the ceremony was upon you: the toast. The High Priestess, with a solemn expression, raised her goblet high and addressed the assembly with practiced grace.

“Let us now toast to the union of House Baenre and their newest member, Mistress Y/N Baenre. May this bond be as strong as the webs spun by Lolth herself, and may their loyalty to each other and to House Baenre be unwavering.”

The audience responded with elated cheers, their eyes fixed on you and Minthara. The atmosphere was thick with expectation as the High Priestess gestured for you both to take your goblets.

You and Minthara exchanged a knowing glance, your previous unspoken connection now tempered by the ceremonial formalities. The goblets, adorned with intricate patterns and filled with a dark, almost ominous liquid, were a focal point of the final rite. The contents imbued with Menzoberranzan love magic.

Minthara’s lips curled into a smirk as she looked at you, her eyes gleaming with challenge. She lifted her goblet, her movements deliberate and poised, and with a defiant glint in her eye, she downed the contents in one swift motion. The crowd watched in anticipation, their cheers momentarily hushed as they awaited your response.

You met her smirk with a challenging look of your own. Taking a deep breath, you raised your own goblet, feeling the weight of the ritual and the gaze of the onlookers. With a final, resolute glance at Minthara, you followed suit and drank the contents in one go. The liquid slid down your throat, its taste oddly unremarkable despite the grandiose of its magical properties.

As the last drop of the goblet was consumed, a cheer erupted from the audience, their enthusiasm a stark contrast to the tension that had lingered between you and Minthara. The High Priestess’s face remained inscrutable as she nodded in approval, and the formalities of the ceremony drew to a close.

In a moment of shared understanding, you leaned in toward Minthara, and she responded with a confident yet tender kiss. The crowd’s cheers swelled, their applause growing louder as the kiss deepened. It was a brief but meaningful display of unity, a symbolic gesture that marked the beginning of your life together. As you both pulled away, your eyes locked, the tension of the earlier ceremony now mingled with the thrill of the new chapter ahead.

With a nod to each other, Minthara took your hand and led you towards the grand banquet hall. The room was adorned with opulent decorations, the feast laid out on long tables that gleamed with silver and crystal. The air was filled with the rich scents of exotic dishes and the buzz of conversation.

As you entered the hall, your gaze fell upon your brothers, who were seated among the guests. They caught your eye and offered you warm smiles, their faces reflecting a genuine sense of pride and joy. The sight was reassuring, a small island of familiarity amidst the sea of unfamiliar faces.

Nearby, the young girls who had helped you earlier were eagerly waving at you from their seats. You smiled back at them and gave a playful wave, their excitement evident as they responded with enthusiastic giggles and cheers. It was a comforting sight, a reminder of the bonds you had managed to forge even in the midst of such a formal and intimidating occasion.

Minthara led you to the head of the banquet hall, where a line of guests was already forming to offer their congratulations and present you with gifts. The well-wishers approached one by one, each one bowing respectfully and offering their tributes. The atmosphere was filled with a blend of festivity and formality, the air thick with the scent of rich foods and the murmur of polite conversation.

Amid the bustling crowd, you noticed that the acolyte from the ceremony had slipped away from the banquet. A sense of unease prickled at the back of your mind, and you excused yourself from the line of well-wishers with a polite but hurried apology.

“I must give my thanks to Lolth for the ceremony,” you said, your voice steady but urgent. “I will be back shortly.”

Minthara gave you a curious look but nodded in understanding. “Don’t be long,” she instructed, her tone a mix of curiosity and caution.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

You made your way swiftly to the chapel, the grand archways and shadowed corners of the sacred space offering a stark contrast to the celebratory chaos of the banquet. As you approached the altar, you saw the acolyte kneeling in despair, her head bowed and her hands clasped in a desperate plea for mercy. Her soft sobs echoed through the empty chapel, the sanctity of the space amplifying the depth of her distress.

A smirk touched your lips as you approached, your footsteps echoing ominously. The acolyte’s head snapped up at the sound, her tear-streaked face reflecting shock and anger as she recognized you.

“I cannot imagine Lolth will be forgiving to the one who tried to poison her favored on the day of their union,” you said with a cold satisfaction. The words seemed to land heavily, deepening the acolyte’s rage.

“How did you survive?” she demanded, her voice a harsh whisper, trembling with a mixture of anger and disbelief. “How did both of you survive? That blade was coated in Purple Worm Toxin; as soon as it drew blood, the effects should have taken hold immediately.”

"Evidently, House Baenre-"

"-House Baenre!” she spat out, her voice laced with venom. “I hate them all! They destroyed my family. Minthara killed my sister on a whim, and my house fell because of her cruelty. I was sent here to exact revenge, to see House Baenre's ruin!”

You listened with a mix of cold detachment and grim understanding. The animosity and vendetta against House Baenre were clear, but you had little sympathy for her plight. Your position as Mistress of House Baenre meant you had to uphold the dignity and power of your new house. Her vendetta was irrelevant to you now; she was a threat that needed to be dealt with.

“You failed,” you said, your voice steely. “And as Mistress of House Baenre, I am obligated to ensure that all transgressions are punished. However, I doubt I’ll get there before Lolth herself. That doesn’t mean I can’t offer some assistance.”

Before the acolyte could fully comprehend what was happening, you began to weave a cocoon of divine silk around her. The shimmering threads encased her body, the silken strands gliding effortlessly as they bound her tightly. Her struggles against the cocoon were futile, the threads forming a firm and unyielding prison.

With the cocoon fully formed, you turned your gaze upward to the statue of Lolth. The statue’s eyes, previously dim and lifeless, suddenly flared with a deep, crimson glow. The eyes seemed to pierce through the darkness of the chapel, signaling the goddess’s presence.

A small smile graced your lips and in a flash of blinding light, the cocoon began to tremble and writhe. The divine silk glowed with an eerie, otherworldly light as the acolyte’s form within the cocoon began to twist and contort. A cacophony of harsh, bone cracking sounds filled the chapel, the process of transformation a brutal and unsettling spectacle.

The cocoon’s surface split open, revealing the acolyte’s body undergoing a grotesque metamorphosis. Her limbs elongated and twisted, her form shifting into that of a drider—half-drow, half-spider. The transformation was violent, marked by a series of inhuman cries and the sound of tearing flesh.

As the final touches of the transformation took place, a portal of shimmering web appeared above the altar. The drider, now fully transformed, was dragged upwards by the force of the web, struggling against its constraints but ultimately powerless to resist.

The portal drew the drider into its depths, vanishing into the dark expanse of the Underdark. The last sight of the acolyte was a flash of horrified eyes and twisted limbs before it was completely absorbed by the portal.

You watched with a mixture of resolve and cold satisfaction as the portal closed, sealing the drider's fate. The chapel fell silent once more, the only sound being the distant echoes of the banquet hall. You slowly albeit with great difficulty due to the restrcitve dress, kneeled infront of the statue and clasped your hands in prayer.

The dim light of the chapel flickered as you approached the grand statue of Lolth, her visage looming large and commanding in the sacred space. The flickering flames of the nearby torches cast eerie shadows, creating an atmosphere both reverent and charged with divine energy.

You fell to your knees on the cold, polished stone floor, your posture embodying both respect and solemnity. The weight of the evening’s events settled upon you, and with deep breaths, you centered yourself, preparing to offer a prayer worthy of the Spider Queen. You lowered your head and closed your eyes, focusing all your energy and intent on the divine presence before you.

In a voice both steady and reverent, you began:

“Most Glorious and Resplendent Lolth, Queen of Spiders, Matron of the Underdark, hear the words of your devoted descendent.”

“Great Mistress, it is with deepest gratitude and unwavering devotion that I come before you in this sacred place. I offer my thanks for your boundless favor, which guided my ancestral aasimar, Liakyre, from the treacherous embrace of her mother Eilistraee, and into the welcoming web of your dark grace.”

“O Divine One, you who nurtured and raised her as your own, you who allowed her bloodline to continue and for House Liakyre to ascend, I beseech you to acknowledge my humble gratitude. Though the house now lies fallen, its legacy persists within the fervent fire of this descendent’s heart.”

“May the blood of Liakyre, whose blood now courses through me, burn brightly and unyieldingly as I take up the mantle of Mistress of House Baenre. Empower me to honor the past, to uphold the strength of our bloodline, and to fulfill the sacred duties entrusted to me by your will.”

“Grant me, O Lolth, your divine blessing as I forge ahead into the future, carrying forth the traditions of your dark and eternal house. Let your gaze remain upon me, a guiding light in the shadows, as I serve House Baenre with loyalty and fervor and continue Liakyre's legacy through them.”

With each word, the sense of the divine grew stronger, the statue’s eyes seeming to glimmer with an otherworldly light. The ambient light in the chapel seemed to intensify, focusing on the statue’s form as if Lolth herself were acknowledging your prayer.

With a final bow of your head, you left the chapel, the sense of divine favor still tingling at your fingertips. The grandeur of the banquet hall greeted you as you emerged, the sounds of celebration and the clamor of the crowd filling the air with vibrant energy. The guests, a mélange of the elite and powerful from Menzoberranzan, erupted into cheers as you re-entered the hall.

The atmosphere was electric with excitement. You made your way to Minthara, who was surrounded by well-wishers and offering polite nods and pleasantries. As you approached, her sharp eyes fixed on you with a mixture of curiosity and concern.

“What was that about, Y/N?” Minthara asked, her voice low yet demanding. “The High Priestess mentioned something about you and the acolyte. I need to know what happened.”

You offered her a reassuring smile, knowing that any explanation now would only add to the evening’s complexity. “I’ll tell you later,” you said smoothly. “For now, I could really use a drink.”

Without waiting for a response, you reached for her wine glass, taking it from her hand with a quick, deft motion. Minthara’s eyes widened in surprise as you took a long, deliberate sip of the wine, savoring the rich, intoxicating flavor.

Minthara’s protest died in her throat, her eyes narrowing slightly as she watched you with a mix of amusement and frustration. She looked as if she were about to speak, but the moment was abruptly interrupted as you leaned in and pulled her into a passionate kiss. The suddenness and intensity of the kiss seemed to catch her off guard, but she quickly responded, her arms wrapping around you as she returned the kiss with equal fervor.

When the kiss finally broke, you pulled away, your lips lingering on hers for a heartbeat longer. You could see the desire in her eyes, a fire that matched your own. With a playful smirk, you murmured, “Must be the Menzoberranzan love magic in the wine from the toast.”

Minthara’s eyes flashed with a mix of surprise and amusement. “Is that so?” she replied, her voice dripping with a teasing challenge.

Before she could respond further, the crowd’s cheers and laughter seemed to rise around you, drawing the attention back to the festivities. You took her hand, guiding her through the throng of guests, ready to embrace the rest of the evening's revelry. You felt a high like no other, your family may be 6ft under, but you were now mistress of the most powerful House in Menzoberranzen, you had just seen Lolth turn a once devoted acolyte into a drider because of her transgressions against you. Oh the night was young, and you intended to enjoy every moment of it.

Part Five

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Ooof this was a long one but I have been feeling so rotten lately (I'm on so many antibiotics and meds rn lmaoooo) and this is my comfort fic to write.

Finally have revealed how reader has her powers, and for clarity, I'm headcanoning that Eilistraee had aasimar children and one of them fell and Lolth took full advantage of that.

Hope you all enjoyed it, let me know what you think in the comments below or in my inbox. Love you all - Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

@mimetoist @thepotatoislost @needyformilfs @longjohnsilverfish @spacezombiez @morganaspet @wineredsea

If you want to be in the taglist just comment down below xox

174 notes · View notes