#'the power of hot beautiful people never ceases to amaze me'

[sitp-recs]

HP Rec Fest, Day 28

I’ve been reccing underrated fics since this blog was created and so I thought “there’s no easier @hprecfest prompt than this one” lol famous last words, this post took me ages to prepare 😂 I was initially overwhelmed by the amount of fics that came to mind, and going through my bookmarks and old recs only made it worse. How was I supposed to shortlist?? In the end I gave up and decided to rec 2 Drarry fics + 2 rare pairs. I could have included so many more but I really didn’t want this to become a tl;dr post and these rec blurbs are already going out of control, so here we go!

Day 28) an under-rated fic:

Drarry

In Dreams by @moonflower-rose (E, 38k)

Harry wasn't expecting to ever see Draco Malfoy again. He also wasn't expecting to walk into a political conspiracy that morning either, but apparently that's exactly what the day has in store for him.

I’ve screamed quite a few times about this fic (see my rec here) and every time I do it’s in the hopes that more folks will stop whatever they’re doing and go feast on this. not only a delicious and intriguing case fic with Rosie’s trademark epic dialogue and superb sense of humour, this also wins the award of best fic opening I have ever read. the way I gasped at chapter one and am forever haunted by its utterly devastating ending oh my god!!! my heart belongs to this gritty Harry, and the slow burn is masterfully crafted within the urgency of their teamwork to solve the mystery combining comfort, grief and hope in a thrilling, poignant and perfectly paced adventure. plus, the emotional payoff is chef’s kiss, honestly I cannot recommend this enough!

Survival of the Species by @romaine2424 (E, 47k)

Draco approaches Harry on the 9 ¾ platform, after their sons have boarded the Hogwarts Express, and invites him over for tea. The discussion they have leads them on an adventure that neither could have expected. There be dragons! HPDH compliant but before any other canon info had been released.

considering this masterpiece was published back in 2007 I think I’m allowed to say this is definitely a formative story when it comes to the creature genre, more specifically Veela fic. I first read this a couple years ago and my jaw legit dropped at the amount of world-building and carefully researched lore that went into this. so detailed and intricate and different from everything I’ve seen before or since, I was truly fascinated and couldn’t stop reading. kudos to the amazing slow burn covering years of their struggles stuck together in a dragon cave and having to rely on each other to survive. I loved seeing the hardships and how they genuinely came to care for each other, definitely one of the most moving and convincing Veela love stories I’ve read in the fandom.

Rare pair

With a Look by earlybloomingparentheses (Ginny + Deamus, E, 5k)

Now, twenty years old and done with boys and looking forward very much to putting her hand down some lucky girl’s shirt later this evening, Ginny looks at Dean Thomas’s gold-painted fingernails and feels heat pool between her legs.

I think about this fic every now and then - such a sensitive, thought-provoking and beautiful homage to the 🏳️‍🌈 community. the visceral and contemplative tone takes it beyond your regular PWP, and I’ve rarely seen gender and queerness explored quite like this. seeing Ginny figuring out and owning her identify is mesmerizing. her voice is powerful, sexy, earnest and articulates so many complex and layered feelings - I was particularly moved by the inner turmoil of not looking “queer enough”. I’m sure this fic will be eye-opening and comforting to so many people out there, and that’s why I never cease to rec it. an intimate character study, a sinfully hot and self-indulgent threesome but above anything, a poignant love letter to the queer community.

Passion, Patents, and Pen Pals at the Ministry by @violetclarity and @yrfrndfrnkly, art by @anaxandria-writes and @veelawings (Hermione/Pansy, T, 32k)

After an extremely ill-timed lovers'-tiff-turned-food-fight at the Ministry leaves her less one boyfriend and suspended without pay for six months, Hermione pleads for some position–anything–to fill her days until her suspension is up. The good news is, her temporary position in the Magical Games & Sports's Ludicrous Patents office is just down the corridor from Harry's office in General Inquiries. The bad news is Harry's officemate is Pansy Parkinson, the Ministry's operations are shockingly outdated, and every altercation between Hermione and Pansy winds up a headline in MoM's internal rogue gossip zine, Hot Goss.

rivals to secret pen pals to lovers yes please?? this hilarious Pansmione is a ship triumph and yet criminally underrated. I had a blast getting into the world of Ministry gossip & politics, and immediately fell in love with all the characters, l especially with this lovely meddling Harry. it’s SO MUCH FUN to watch poor him (and Blaise omg what a duo) in the middle of a ladies’ tug of war. I’m impressed by the amount of world-building especially around their workplace, not to mention all the side interactions and the fun, organic slow burn. I love this take on identity porn with tons of banter and Pansy and Mione connecting through their shared worldview and feminist principles, such a power couple ✊🏼 the mix of semi-epistolary, witty dialogue, dorky meddling friends and mild angst make for peak entertaining, I laughed non-stop and cheered so bad for them. femslash ftw!!!

[romcombc]

Book Review for Secretly Yours

Pop Quiz: What do you do when your crush of 14 years unexpectedly comes back into town? Why get drunk and write an anonymous letter professing all of your feelings of course! Having an adult conversation would have been far too easy and that’s just not the Hallie Welch way! In fact, Hallie’s way of doing things is what makes Secretly Yours so joyous that you can’t help but deal with the smile that will refuse to leave your face.

Night and day have more in common than Julian and Hallie. For Hallie, life has been a whirlwind adventure of different places, different roles, and different people. She doesn’t know the meaning of the words structure, anchored, and predictable – at least not without her late grandmother’s help and guidance. For Julian, time and a stringent schedule is a way of life, a way of surviving. Without the knowledge of how every minute is dictated, the phantom of anxiety lurks, waiting to take hold of him yet again. To keep it at bay, he has to avoid chaos at all cost, until the chaos is a beautiful blonde gardener whose smile could give the sun’s rays a run for their money. Little does he know this “chance” encounter has been a dream in the making for the past fourteen years. Having realized her high school crush was back in town, Hallie is prepared to do what it takes to pick up where they left off.

What I liked about it: Bailey’s characters are always such a work of care, duty, and dedication and this book is no exception. Hallie’s inner monologue kept me in stitches! Her personality was so energetic on paper that you couldn’t help but feel good and smile when she interacted with people.

What I love about it: So much praise to how Bailey handled the topic of anxiety! I loved that she didn’t romanticize it. Julian didn’t have this debilitating thing that was cured by “the power of love”. She shows the big, the bad, and the ugly that doesn’t play favorites and takes no prisoners.

As far as the spicy level of the story, come on – this is Tessa Bailey! That’s like asking if the sun is hot or if a wheel is round! Her method of creating the most sensational scenes never ceases to amaze me.

There is not secret (couldn’t resist) how much readers will love this book! A sweet treat of hope that only unrequited love can give, sprinkled with a second chance encounter, and a gooey center of grumpy vs sunshine will leave you wanting more (with good news that book #2 – Unfortunately Yours – drops June 6, 2023!)

https://romcombc.com/book/secretly-yours/

[uchihasass]

lmaooooo i know it sounds ridiculous, and it IS wild for her to say that and for him to respond that way in this crazy scenario, but i promise there's a significance to it. 😂

bitch I lied… I’m watching lusi’s love like the galaxy and it’s good. leo is borderline stiff, but his character is good nonetheless. they look sooooooo great together like that I KNEW but now I’m experiencing it. the scene where she pulls the arrow out of his chest… girl, the power of hot beautiful people never ceases to amaze me. when niaoniao is like “does it hurt?” after she pulled a full metal arrow out of his body like is that even a question?????? and for him to ask “does your hand hurt?” I know this is a romantic drama and this sort of dialogue should exist only between fantasy folk but if I were buyi I’d be like “Um no shit it hurtsssss HELP ME!!!!!!!!???!?!?!?!” but he loves her too much to be that brass. I just find it funny for her to ask that like yes niaoniao it hurts so bad.

[itsevanffs]

Hihi!! I've been hyperfixating on tommary lately and I absolutely loved (In the dark!)! I wanted to see if u have any tommary/harrymort fics that u recommend.. preferably ones that feature a possessive Tom ^^ ty in advance

I guess this would be the right time to publicly declare my bookmarks as open? Everything on there is a hard rec, and I vigorously quality-check those... for my liking and my liking only. (Sorry, not sorry. They're there for me, after all.)

That being said, hmm. I've got a few you might like.

Below the cut: more (additionally to my bookmarks) Tomarrymort (Tomarry or Harrymort) recommendations with possessive/obsessive Tom in alphabetical order; NOT order of how much I enjoy them. I'd argue I enjoy them all equally, just in different ways.

Ps: thank you! I'm incredibly flattered you liked my work :D

and don't let the police know anything by littlecupkate https://archiveofourown.org/works/24920947

Ted Dirlod is dangerous, Harry Potter knows this for a fact, but the man was still his only hope at escaping a doomed fate. It is never wise to blackmail a crime lord. It is even more unwise(?) when said crime lord is obsessed with you. An expanded version of "praying to whatever's in heaven, please send me a felon"

Genuinely lovely? Ticks all my boxes, at least, and minimal angst, which is always a plus. That being said, you should probably read the work mentioned in the summary as well for context. But hey. Two cakes by one person ;) Can never go wrong, can it?

As Certain Dark Things Are to be Loved by Strange_Soulmates https://archiveofourown.org/works/6015619

Tom was Harry's best friend growing up and his first love. At eight, Harry gave Tom his first kiss before moving away. As a freshman in college, the name of the RA on the door across the hall is terribly familiar.

Also absolutely deliciously indulgent. Tom is a possessive terror and Harry loves him for it. Need I say more?

Harry Potter and the Search for Ancient Magic (series) by Snickerdoodlepop https://archiveofourown.org/series/1133141

Once Voldemort realizes that Harry Potter is his horcrux, his plans change drastically. So does Draco Malfoy's assignment for the school year. Harry's sixth year starts going very differently. Snape is on a mission. Harry needs to learn pureblood politics. Draco Malfoy is trying to convince Harry to forgive him. Voldemort finds himself visiting Harry Potter in his dreams. Everyone is realizing that no one is quite what they thought. And through it all, there's a mystery. What is Ancient Magic? Can Harry use it to save himself or will it pull him toward the dark side?

Honestly, genuinely, hands down the best fucking tomarrymort series I've ever read. Hard, hard rec from here. The first work is completed and the second is in progress, so it's a nice pile of words to chew through!

can't commit to anything but a crime by caelesti https://archiveofourown.org/works/27286483

Excitement is the word he does not dare utter, even in the privacy of his own mind. It’s wrong, he knows. These women are people, in their own right; people with fears and aspirations, with friends and families and dreams, and to have anything cut those lives short is nothing but tragic. To have anyone cut those lives short is nothing but condemnable. He doesn’t have James Potter’s laugh lines, but he does have his father’s innate flair for danger. He doesn’t have Lily Potter’s enthusiasm, but he does have her insatiable curiosity. (In every world, Harry will excel at finding the biggest spot of trouble available and sticking his nose in it.)

Hot serial killer serial killer hot. That's it, those are the thoughts. Please read.

Dripping Fingers by May_May_0_0 https://archiveofourown.org/works/25440826

When Harry finds Tom Riddle's diary he does not write 'Hello.' He does not write anything at all. He draws. Tom Riddle falls in love with the artwork. _________________ Sketch by sketch, drawing by drawing, the ink Harry pours into the diary manifests as creations in Tom's monochrome world.

Okay so if I'm the reincarnation of Shakespeare, May_May_0_0 is fucking... Ted Hughes. Which doesn't say much to your average viewer but that man wrote my favourite poem ever (the one I based my war fic off) and I hold him in very high regard. This story? It is poetry in its rawest form. Pure, condensed beauty. If you decide to read only one of the fics in this list, please choose this one.

Either must die at the hand of the other by Metalomagnetic https://archiveofourown.org/works/29356095

Voldemort survives the Battle of Hogwarts because Harry Potter had not been the one to kill him, as the prophecy demands.

When is Metalomagnetic not a master of words? When will I cease becoming breathless at every paragraph, at every cleverly twisted word that comes back and reveals itself so beautifully later?

Fine Line by galaxiesundone https://archiveofourown.org/works/26949952

Magic always leaves traces. The lingering darkness of Sectumsempra, combined with Harry’s nature as a horcrux, awakens the soul piece contained within Ravenclaw’s diadem. At twenty years old, Tom Riddle walks a fine line between man and monster, the devil and the light-bringer in one. His influence forces Harry to face an ancient enemy unlike anything he has faced before: temptation.

Long story short: Tom Riddle is Hot and Good At Being Hot and Harry truly doesn't stand a chance and I am here for it. Lord help me I love this fic to pieces.

Good Intentions by Strange_Soulmates https://archiveofourown.org/works/7035334

Five year old Harry Potter meets and befriends a seventeen year old Tom Riddle while hanging out at his dad’s station. James Potter decides to take Tom under his wing, using Tom’s connection with Harry to try and keep the teen grounded, even as he begins to investigate the Death Eaters, a dangerous organized crime group and their mysterious leader only known as Lord Voldemort.

The sheer potential of this fic. The horrible, terrible dread of future events that have yet to be revealed. I will cry.

Honey, Smoke, Shiver by machiavelli https://archiveofourown.org/works/16068062

Harry - Omega, only son of Lord Potter - is nothing more than a useful playing card in a political game of power and money, one that is bought by the famed Tom Riddle: powerful, dangerous, pureblood Alpha. Unsurprisingly, Harry loves being underestimated.

Machiavelli is always a rec from me. Sorry lads but that's the way it is. Never a moment where I won't recommend their stuff.

Sickly-Sweet Obsession by maquira https://archiveofourown.org/works/18259103

Quiet, studious Tom Riddle spends his first year thirsting after an older student—Gryffindor’s Quidditch Captain, Harry Potter. His crush is common knowledge, and even Harry finds it cute… at first. Possessiveness spawns monstrosities. Tom does all within his power to mess with Harry’s dating life. And one seemingly harmless crush spirals into something darker, begetting deadly consequences.

Again; the potential. Delicious. This will bloom into something beautifully twisted, I'm sure of it.

Stars, Hide Your Fires by Audair https://archiveofourown.org/works/27745546

Riddle’s undivided attention snapped to him with the swiftness of shattering glass. His turbulent magic receded from where it had besieged the shop. "You,” he breathed. Coiling in leisurely motions, the eager tendrils of his magic reached for Harry, swathing about his limbs and neck and chest with a liquid, flowing fascination. "I’ve been looking for you,” Riddle continued, tilting his head to the side and sweeping his gaze over Harry. It was an appraisal that felt simultaneously like the raking of iron nails and the tender drapery of silk. It was so familiar, and yet… so foreign. In the winding streets of Knockturn Alley, an intricate dance of mutual obsession unravels between twenty-three-year-old Tom Riddle and a time-travelling Harry Potter.

This work has recently been undergoing a rewrite, and I can tell you with certainty it's only gotten better for it. It's beautiful; the setting, the atmosphere, the vibes... Perfection. Captures Knockturn Alley's mood impeccably and does not disappoint a single moment.

the pleasure, the privilege by asterisms https://archiveofourown.org/works/21227528

It begins with Vernon Dursley's body, dead across the table. In which Voldemort is dosed with amortentia, and nothing is better for it.

Completed, terrifying... and gorgeous.

The Shrike (to your sharp and glorious thorn) by PaperWorlds https://archiveofourown.org/works/22380079

Shrike: A songbird with a sharply hooked bill, known for their habit of catching insects and small vertebrates and impaling their bodies on thorns, the spikes on barbed-wire fences, or any available sharp point. A young Harry Potter survives an attack by notorious serial killer Voldemort. Over a decade later, they meet again.

Lads I'm so desperate for an update from this fic that I might cry if I think about it for too long. I keep saying it and I'll say it again; this is one of those fics with amazing potential that are sure to never disappoint no matter what path they take. An incredibly hard rec.

To Raise a Servant by bluegrass https://archiveofourown.org/works/19780816

Tom had found the boy amidst pouring rain. He figured he'd always wanted a pet snake.

Surprisingly not quite as dark as the summary makes it seem? I certainly enjoyed it, though, and that's why it's on this list.

What He Grows To Be by Severus_divides_into_H https://archiveofourown.org/works/19042240

Tom Riddle is a frightening coil of darkness, cruelty, and greatness, and changing him is Harry’s only hope for saving people he loves. Going back in time, he takes Tom from the orphanage, but his optimism shatters with every year they spend together. Tom still longs for darkness. Tom stifles him in his possessiveness. Tom is fixated on him to the point of destroying the world just to keep him. But Harry loves him. And the future changes.

Beautiful. And absolutely terrifying. I've started crying mid-scene at least three times for this fic, and it honestly seems unfathomable if you haven't read it if you're on my profile, since I think this is one of the fics that have shaped my style and ambitions. It is what I aspire to be.

[kyberphilosopher]

Eunoia

The Mantis crew decides to take a well deserved break.  Word Count: 2422

Warning(s): straight fluff, short Requested: yep This can be read for a female, male, non binary, or any other reader.

Eunoia is the shortest English word containing all five main vowel graphemes. It comes from the Greek word εὔνοια, meaning "well mind" or "beautiful thinking”. It is also a rarely used medical term referring to a state of normal mental health. In rhetoric, eunoia is the goodwill a speaker cultivates between himself and his audience, a condition of receptivity. In book eight of Nicomachean Ethics, Aristotle uses the term to refer to the kind and benevolent feelings of goodwill a spouse has which form the basis for the ethical foundation of human life.

* ✭ ˚ ･ﾟ ✧ *･ﾟ * ✭˚･ﾟ ✧* ･  *

Cal is actually not as observant as people think he is. You know because you’ve been leaning against his doorway, watching him, for about two minutes now and he hasn’t noticed a thing. 

Maybe if you were in his position you’d be the same. That seems about right. He’s hunched over his desk with the lamp on bright, tinkering with something that you can only assume is for BD-1. He’s probably lost in thought. Maybe he’s dreaming of better days. Or maybe he’s just trying to figure out which wires and bolts connect to which. There’s no way to be certain from your position. He’s the mechanic, you are not. 

So why have you been watching the redhead from his doorway for three minutes now? A simple answer. He is your friend, and you enjoy his company. Even when he’s not giving you attention, completely unaware to your presence in moments like this one, lost in his own world, it’s his warmth that really counts. Cal is such a relaxing bout of fresh air compared to everything else in the galaxy, in your life. It’s like being at a great party, but whether you enjoy it or not, stepping outside and tasting the air and the smell of something wonderful. Even if you had a day full of talking to people and had become burned out, talking to Cal would have been no problem at all. Maybe in a way that makes him your favorite person. 

Yeah, maybe. 

BD-1 jumps onto Cal’s desk. His head looks at the boys hands, cocking about as if observing. Then he meets your gaze, only to find a smile. One index finger raises to your lips, prompting the little droid to stay quiet about this, before you turn away and head towards the main part of the ship. 

“Where’s Cal?” Greez gruffs upon seeing you. He’s shaking spice onto a steaming brown plate, which puts a pep in your step. Greez’s cooking always makes life better. 

“In his room,” you answer. You turn from the doorway to the counter, where something hot does cause stringy, swirly puffs of air to waft upwards from a large metal container. With your back to Greez, you pull a plate for yourself and begin hulling it full of food. Some sort of rice or grain?�� 

“Hmph, that reminds me,” the Latero begins mid-chew. “Me and Cere was talking about taking a vacation.”

“Vacation?” you scrunch your eyebrows and put the lid back on the container. “Where to?”

“The beach maybe?”

You scoff as you turn around and lean on the counter. One hand holds the plate while the other uses your index finger to prod at the mush. It smells alluring. The individual pieces of it stick to your skin. They burn and sting, but it’s so small it doesn’t bring much of a reaction. “I don’t know a lot of beaches.”

“Well, ya know,” Greez shrugs. “Just a thought.”

* ✭ ˚ ･ﾟ ✧ *･ﾟ * ✭˚･ﾟ ✧* ･  *

It was more than just a thought. Six days later, the Mantis touches down on Scarif. But first there’s the issue of landing. 

“Watch that tree,” you point, leaning over Cal’s shoulder as he co-pilots beside Greez. A second later, the ship gives a great rock and the palm tree crunches beneath it. “You weren’t watching the tree.”

“Sorry,” Cal offers sheepishly. 

“What?” Greez says. He’s the one in main control of the ship. He’d never let Cal take over the whole thing. “What he do?”

“Ran over a tree,” you snort. 

“Cal!” Cere scolds, turning around in her chair. 

“I said I was sorry!” Cal defends. 

“I’m telling the wookies what you did,” you whisper.

“Don’t,” Cal whispers back, though it’s still desperate. 

The Mantis parks itself in a field of tropical emerald on the cuff of a beach. The sand is white, the waves cyan and royal blue and sloshing. There’s several beaches on the planet. All of which are very beautiful. Would be a true shame if anything were to ever happen to Scarif. It’s so different compared to so many other planets in the galaxy- not occupied by Imperial forces or scumbags. 

Greez waves everybody off. Cere exits first. Cal is ahead of you, but he steps to the side and rather gentlemanly insists, “You first.”

You hum and move past him. The Scarif air hits your face with a warm breeze. It smells of salt and water and some kind of flower. The horizon goes orange and pink and salmon with the setting sun. It is... serene. It nearly knocks you off your feet. It takes his voice to realize Cal is beside you at the bottom of the ramp. 

“Woah,” he offers simply, in as much awe as yourself. 

“Woah,” you repeat in agreement. It’s still for a second. “Come on. Let’s join them. Or else I’ll have to cast a Jedi mind trick on you.” Your fingers wiggle up and down by Cal’s face for dramatic effect. 

Cal rolls his eyes. “Shut up,” he utters with a push on your elbow, urging you forward into the sand. 

Okay, so maybe you like Cal more than just a friend. But who can blame you? Things had been feeling different between you two lately. You’d always gotten along pretty smoothly. You made up for skills that Cal seemed to lack himself, and his abilities- human and nonhuman- never ceased to amaze you. He was a friend. And then, when you tended to the stab wound he’d gotten from Vader, there was a moment where you held each others eyes. After that, the joking became more constant. The little touches on the shoulders and elbows and forehead taps happened more often. And you started watching him from his doorway sometimes and... and at some point you just caught feelings. 

Cal Kestis seemed to feel the same, but who could really say? No use poking that bear right now. 

The sand is soft, even beneath your boots. Cere stands in front of the water, just breathing in the air. The light breeze makes her vest ripple. It’s tempting to just join her. 

“Gotta say,” you hear a familiar voice say from your left and below. “We picked a nice place.”

“Maybe we should stay a while,” you joke, though you secretly hope for it, to Greez. 

“Yeah,” Greez rolls his eyes. “Until this moron gets us into trouble again!”

Cal perks up. “What did I do?”

“Anybody who can lift things with their mind is gonna attract some attention, kid. You just brought it on us.”

“So true,” you jump on with a smirk to Cal. 

“Alright,” Cal turns away towards the beach. You position yourself so you’re closer to him, and Greez takes the opportunity to waddle away further ahead to waves.

“Sorry for bursting your bubble, Cal,” you continue with a smug grin. “Maybe in the next life, don’t be born with force powers? Just a suggestion.”

“You think you’re so funny,” Cal tells you, though he’s smiling too. His pale green eyes spare a glance at you, thick lashes dancing on his boyish face. 

Your knees bend until you collapse on your bottom in the sand. It’s so soft, it doesn’t even resist your weight. It makes way for you easily, like a blanket. “I do.”

Cal joins you in the sand quickly enough. You’re both face to face, the wind in your hair and the water at your side. It crashes every few seconds, but it’s peaceful. Some kind of bird flies overhead, and butterflies are in the forested area behind you. The light of the sunset illuminates Cal’s hair more than usual. The brightest points of his eyes are highlighted. 

“He loves you,” you offer. 

“You think so?”

“I am one hundred percent certain... Just don’t touch the ship.”

Cal raises his hands as if surrendering. “Understood. Hands off.”

You turn your head to the water. Greez and Cere are standing ahead, most likely having a conversation of their own. The tide carries so much of the stress your shoulders hold away from you. Everything with the holocron, the empire- it was ridiculous what living in hiding could do to a person. It’s hard to imagine how Cal did it for so long. How painful that must’ve been for him. How painful it is to imagine him in pain. 

“How’s your stomach?” you decide to ask at last. 

Cal tilts his head for a second. “Better.”

“Perfect?” you raise your knees to your chest and rest your arms on them. 

Just then, a little whirring noise pulls both of your attentions away. BD-1 bounds down the ramp of the ship, twirling around in observance as if excited. “Hey, BD,” Cal greets. “I know, buddy. I know.” The droid places itself in Cal’s lap, still looking around at the change in scenery. 

“We’ve never been able to do this before,” you tell him. “I mean, I wasn’t here for the whole adventure. But I was here after and before and... and just... we’ve never done this.”

Cal is quiet. “I haven’t either.”

You look at him. 

“Taken a break. I guess time on Bracca was the closest thing.”

You smile softly. “I’m sure it was really nice.”

Cal rolls his eyes along with his head, though the corner of his chapped pink lips turn upwards. “As nice as it could be with the Empire.”

“That’s pretty nice.”

Cal and you huff a humorous puff of air in unison. 

“What were you doing before the Mantis?” Cal suddenly asked. 

“Oh,” you roll your eyes and wave your hand. “Not important. Don’t even worry about it.”

“Come on!” Cal shifts. 

“I’m serious!” you defend. “It’s boring stuff. You wouldn’t want to hear about it. Not as interesting as the force.”

“Well anything related to you is interesting,” Cal says casually, one of his palms lifting in the air for effect as he shifts again. 

Well that makes your face feel hot. Anything related to you is interesting. How often do people get to hear that? And how casually it comes out of Cal’s mouth, the shrug of his shoulders that you tie so easily to him, that’s how you know it’s honest. Not only have you heard something intimate that not many people will in their whole lives, but it was also heartfelt. 

“Yeah,” you mutter, though it sounds distant and far away as you watch Cal’s eyes. He doesn’t seem to mind. Then you snap back to reality. “This is gonna be good.”

Cal watches you pop to life, standing up entirely and running towards the water. BD-1 perks up as well to watch you just in time to see your much bigger form nearly knock the Latero over. And, much to Cal’s surprise, the little droid jumps from his lap and bounds after you. The red head decides he’s next to follow. 

“BD-1,” he rasps, also nearly pushing Greez to the ground. “Don’t touch the water!”

But it’s too late. However, nothing happens. BD-1 stands in the shallow waves, unelectrocuted and unbroken. He doesn’t spark a bit, only cocking his head in wonder at his friend. 

“Think fast!” a voice calls. 

A splash of warm and salty water slaps against Cal’s face. He cringes, turning his shoulders away on impact with a little gasp that makes his throat burn. “Hey!”

Another splash. 

Cal turns to you. You’re standing with your hands on either side of yourself, open and matching your smug and proud face. Your boots are still on, which can’t be comfortable given that they’re now submerged in water. BD-1 is on the back of your shoulders- something Cal thought was only between him and the droid. Apparently not. 

“What’s wrong, Cal? Can’t handle the current?”

Cal stills himself. Then he bends down himself and flicks water upwards. 

“Hey! No!”

He does it once more. 

“No!”

So you too repeat your original actions and begin forcing salty liquid up into the air in Cal’s direction as well. BD-1 grips onto your collar for stability while you both go to town, careful to not open your mouths too wide and taste the saltiness. 

“Be careful you two!” Cere calls from the shore. Neither Cal nor yourself heed her words, continuing on in disrupting the tide. 

“They’re fine,” Greez assures with the wave of one of his many arms. 

“Are you sure about that?” Cere responds with a hand on her hip as she watches you tackle the Jedi to the sandy terrain below the shallow water. 

“Completely fine.”

You push both of Cal’s shoulders down jokingly, careful not to subdue his head under the water. He cranes his neck to keep it above the waves. Through his soft lashes, Cal can just see your smiling, evil intentioned face with BD-1 on your shoulder gazing at him. 

Honestly, it feels just how it did last week- the last time you had watched Cal in his room. Gazing at him, admiring him. Just now you get to touch him, relax with him, splash water at him, even. You wish you could capture this moment if not forever, then for a while, and Cal wishes the same. 

* ✭ ˚ ･ﾟ ✧ *･ﾟ * ✭˚･ﾟ ✧* ･  *

Sorry it’s short. Idk if it’s my best work certainly but I haven’t written for Cal or Star Wars in a while. But I didn’t kill the reader in this fic or have someone sick or in danger! So it might be my first ever straight fluff? I don’t know. But what a good character to do it with. I’m glad to give Cal a break. And i hope the requester enjoys. 

[t0wnspersonb]

Waterpark Kisses (Ushijima Wakatoshi x Reader)

Word Count: 1,863

Summary: You and Ushijima decide that a waterpark would be a fun date, but insecurities begin to rise and you’re left wondering if Ushijima really does love you like he claims.

This is dedicated to my @sunshinewitchz​, the love of my life and the biggest simp for Wakatoshi I know. She’s literally the best and deserves the best💕💕💕

I hope you all enjoy this garage. My biggest concern when writing is making sure I capture the character’s personality, so hopefully I did a good job for this one😅

Also I know I have some requests sitting in my inbox, I’ll get to them eventually, but at the moment for requests I’ll only be writing three at time. 

Anyway please enjoy!:)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“It was nice of Tendou-kun to give us these tickets.” You said brightly, staring up at the tall ace that was currently next to you. 

 The smell of chlorine was heavy in the air, along with the sounds of running water, and kids screaming and laughing. 

 “Yeah.” Ushijima said briefly, eyes flickering down to yours briefly before surveying the area. “I thought it would just be us though.” he finished, eyes now gazing at his teammates.

 “Now, now, Wakatoshi-kun.” Tendou said coming up to you guys and swinging an arm around your shoulders. “Think of it as team building! Right guys?” 

 Semi scoffed, crossing his arms over his bare chest. “No one wanted to come to the waterpark Tendou, you literally forced everyone to go.”

 You and Ushijima frowned slightly at his statement. When Tendou had asked if you guys wanted tickets to go to the new waterpark that opened, you were ecstatic. You and Ushijima hadn’t gone on a date in a while, and this was the perfect chance. 

 However, you weren’t expecting it to be a group thing.

 “I wanted to go.” Ushijima said, looking at Semi with a blank expression. “Y/n and I wanted to go on a date and you guys decided to tag along.” his blunt statement had you gently patting his muscular bicep. 

 “Waka-kun. It’s fine. We can still have fun.” You said brightly, beaming up at the stoic male. “I’m just happy to be with you.”

 Ushijima’s face softened as he stared back at you. This was just one of the many reasons why he adored you. You were literally the sun, incredibly warm and bright. Your sweet face melted away the bitterness he was feeling towards his teammates. 

 Nothing else mattered as long as he got to spend time with you.

 “Let’s go find a place to put our stuff, Y/n.” He said, his large hand engulfing yours completely. Thick, rough fingers grasped at your dainty ones, gently squeezing before intertwining them together.

 Ushijima’s hands were always so warm. The rough calluses from years of volleyball practice tickled your skin pleasantly. But the safety you felt when he held your hand was one of your favorite feelings. 

 It had always been like this though, while you and Ushijima had only started dating halfway through your second year at Shiratorizawa, the overwhelming feeling of love was always transparent between the two of you. 

 You had never thought that the stoic, blunt, blank faced captain would be attentive to you. Would care for you as deeply as he did. He never ceased making you feel adored.

 “Wakatoshi-kun!” Tendou called out loudly. 

 Right now, you guys were sitting at one of the many tables that overlooked the main waterpark area, you guys were currently looking at the map of the park, deciding on what you wanted to do first.

 “What is it Tendou?” Ushijima asked, staring at the spiky red-haired male making his way over to you guys.

 “They’re doing a game of volleyball! Let’s play!” he gestured over his shoulder to one of the pools, a group of people beginning to pull up a net.

 You noticed the slight glint in Ushijima’s eye at the mention of the sport, but he glanced over at you in expectation.

 “Go play for a bit Toshi-kun.” you said, smiling in amusement. “I’ll keep looking over the map and after you finish, we can go yeah?”

 He nodded, getting up from his chair to leave. “Okay. I won’t be long.” he stooped down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. He easily removed his black shirt from his body, the thick muscles in his arms flexing deliciously, the hard lines on his stomach revealed for all eyes to see.

 But those were yours. You knew his body like the back of your hand; knew all the ways to make him unravel. You knew exactly how he liked to be touched. 

 He was yours. Simple as that. 

 You couldn’t help but watch the game for a moment, there was something truly amazing about seeing him play. 

 You loved his strength and his passion for the sport, the raw power that he possessed was breathtaking. 

 His play left you in awe every time.

 You were staring in awe for a different reason this time. The water ran down his body, seeping into the deep crevices of his muscles, soaking his hair until it was dark and sticking to his forehead. His eyes focused and determined with that familiar glint that he always got when he played.

 The tall ace was just so fucking beautiful, it was almost too much to watch. 

 But again, he was yours. The amount of love you possessed for Ushijima Wakatoshi was indescribable.

 But there were times where you couldn’t help but wonder why he was with you; especially now, a group of girls had paused their conversation to stare at the tall male, your boyfriend.

 “Look how hot that guy is.” one of them whispered, unconsciously fixing her swimsuit. “Do you think he’s single?”

 A frown began to form on your lips as you listened in. A slight pang of insecurity and jealousy flooding in your blood. 

 You had the utmost trust and confidence in Ushijima, you knew that he would never cheat on you, you knew that he never had a wandering eye… but there were times when that little voice in the back of your head began those ‘what if’ scenarios.

 Especially since those girls that were ogling your boyfriend were incredibly pretty. 

 “Oh my god, look he’s coming right over here.” one of them said in hushed excitement, they all began fixing their hair and their swimsuits. “He’s looking right at us!”

 Correction. 

 Ushijima was looking at you. 

 His swim trunks hung low on his hips, revealing the deep ‘V’ set at the base of his hips. Water was still trickling down his toned stomach.

 A greek fucking god he was.

 “Y/n, did you see my win?” he asked in his deep voice as he approached you, grabbing the towel you had set out for him earlier.

 However, you were too busy staring at the girls who were now glaring at you. “Is that his girlfriend? There’s no way. He’s too good for her.”

 You immediately averted your gaze as soon as you heard those words; your shoulders curling in on themselves as you tried to make yourself as small as possible.

 “Y/n?” Ushijima asked, frowning as he sat next to you once more, toweling off his hair. 

 “Oh! Uh… sorry Toshi-kun… yes, I did see your win! It was great!” you said, a fake smile covering your lips.

 Ushijima’s frown deepened, his large hand reaching out to cup your face, he knew something was wrong, that smile of yours… it wasn’t the smile he was used to. 

 “But you’re back now! So, let’s go to this part!” You said, pointing off in a random direction. You didn’t want Ushijima to see you upset, you didn’t want to ruin the time you had together because of your insecurities. 

 He stared at you for a moment before nodding. “Okay. Let’s go then.” he said, grabbing your stuff and your small hand before walking off.

 The waterpark was vast, it had so many different pools with different themes, but somehow you guys ended up in a quiet beach themed area. 

 The serenity and the quietness were actually quite welcoming, and there weren’t that many people there.

 Ushijima had set down your guys’ things on one of the folding chairs, before looking at you expectantly.

 “Should we swim?” he asked, nodding towards the water.

 You nodded eagerly, almost forgetting about the incident earlier. But as you went to remove the shawl that covered your body, you hesitated.

 It wasn’t like Ushijima had never seen your body before, but for some reason… you were left feeling entirely unsure about it.

 Had those pretty girls and their crude comments gotten to you?

 As your mind was reeling, you hadn’t noticed that Ushijima was watching you closely. Once again noticing your odd behavior, your usual sunny and bright expression was incredibly cloudy.

 That was something that he absolutely despised, all he wanted was your happiness. If he wasn’t able to give you that… then… he felt like he wasn’t doing his duty to you as your boyfriend, as your protector.

 “A-Actually Waka-kun, I think I’ll take a break for a moment.” you finally said, giving him another fake smile.

 “You haven’t even gotten in the water today.” he said bluntly, causing you to flinch at the trueness to it. 

 “W-Well, watching you play volleyball was just so exhausting for me.” you said nervously.

 He wasn’t buying it though. He walked over to you, gently grabbing your wrist and tugging you closer to him.

 “Don’t lie to me Y/n.” he said, carefully cupping your chin and moving your face up so you were gazing directly at him. “What happened? You’re acting strange.”

 You stared back at him, his face was contorted into a frown, but you could see the love and the worry clear in his eyes.

 “Do you… do you love me Wakatoshi?” you asked quietly.

 “Are you stupid?” he asked bluntly, causing you to pout at his mean words. “Of course, I love you. You already know that.”

 He wasn’t wrong there. He told you that he loves you almost every day it seemed. Of course, you knew, he never let you forget.

 “Are you… attracted to me?” You tried again.

 The expression on his face was incredibly confused now. “Why would you ask me that? Of course, I do. If I didn’t we wouldn’t have had se-” “Okay!” you interrupted reaching up to cover his mouth, although even on your tiptoes, you could only reach his chin, face burning in embarrassment at his bold claim. 

 He removed your hand from his face, cradling both in his large ones as he stared down at you. 

 “If I wasn’t attracted to you, we wouldn’t be dating.” he said simply. “Why are you asking me these things?”

 You sighed softly, gazing at the sand beneath your feet now. “I just… those girls were so pretty… I got insecure…” you trailed off.

 He frowned again, what girls? 

 “I don’t know what girls you’re talking about.” he said. “But you’re beautiful. I don’t see any reason for you to be insecure. I love your body.”

 You could feel the blush rising in your cheeks at his statement, a familiar feeling of warmth and love washing away the feelings of insecurity and worry.

 “Really?” you asked, looking up at him through your lashes. 

 “Yes.” he gently cupped your cheek, tilting your face up to gaze at him. His heart racing slightly at the sweet expression on your face, the dark clouds seemed to disappear now, leaving behind that warm, bright face he adored the most.

 He stooped down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before standing straight again. “Let’s go swimming now.”

 “Can you turn around so I can take off my cover?” You asked.

 “Why? You strip down in front of me all the time before we have se-”

 “Wakatoshi!”

[jiejie-eonni-onee-sama]

I will find you...

For the sweet @bravelittlesunflower 🌻🌼🌷

Hope you will enjoy!

TW: Mentions of slavery, rude language.

Riding on the roads, Geralt and Jaskier tried to find where they would sleep tonight. They hoped to find a place more comfortable than the woods.

"How far is the next town?" asked The Witcher.

"Let me have a look on the map... Ah! I found it! The next city will be Shantilene. With a bit of luck, we will be there at the end of the afternoon!" exclaimed the bard.

"Unless we encounter problems..."

"Why do you have to be pessimistic?"

Suddenly, they heard fierce screams, and a group of highwaymen jumped on their way.

"I am not pessimistic, Jaskier. I am realistic!" growled Geralt as he took his sword.

The leader of the group said with a mocking tone:

"Greetings, gentlemen! We are a bunch of poor people who counts on your generosity to survive!"

"All I see is a bunch of jackasses!" muttered Jaskier between his teeth.

"And if we refuse?" growled Geralt.

The robbers snickered.

"Well... There will be blood!"

Pissed off, the monster hunter decided to get rid of those jerks.

"I guess we don't have the choice... What do you think, Jaskier?"

"Well, I confirm: we do not have the choice!"

Grinning like a predator, The Witcher pointed his sword at his target and said:

"Then, there will be blood!"

The thieves attacked him all at once. But no one could compete with the great strength of Geralt of Rivia.

As for Jaskier, he fought with one of the robbers who thought the musician would be an easy target. How wrong he was!

"Get off me, you barbarian!" yelled the bard as he kicked his attacker.

In the middle of the fight, the robber grabbed a silk scarf from the bag of Jaskier, tearing it a bit in the process.

When he saw that, Jaskier saw red: how dare he? It was the most precious thing he kept from her.

Furious, Jaskier started to beat up the man with rage.

Meanwhile, Geralt got rid of the last robber. Turning his head, he was surprised to see his companion showering with blows his adversary. He never saw Jaskier angry to this point!

Fearing that the bard might kill his opponent, The Witcher rushed to his side and stopped him.

"Stop it, Jaskier! I think he understood..."

He glared at the thief.

"Go away!"

The thief did not need to be asked twice and ran as fast as he could.

As for the musician, he tried to escape the firm grip of his friend.

"Let me go, Geralt! This man offended me! He committed an unforgivable crime against me!"

"What has he done?" 

"HE TORE HER SCARF!"

This answer puzzled Geralt.

"Her scarf? What are you talking about?"

When he realized what he said, the musician kept his mouth shut. Coming from him, it was unusual...

"Jaskier, which scarf are you talking about?"

"It... It's complicated!"

The Witcher rolled his eyes.

"For once I allow to be talkative, you keep your lips tight! Are you going to explain me or not?"

Sighing, the bard nodded:

"Alright, you win. Could you please let me go?"

Once Geralt set him free, Jaskier picked the silk scarf and showed it to his friend.

"You beat a thief up for this scarf?" asked The Witcher, confused.

"This simple scarf means more to me than you can imagine."

At this instant, the powerful warrior saw a deep sadness in the eyes of the musician.

"You said this scarf belonged to a woman... Who is it?"

"Probably the woman I ever loved."

"Really?"

"Yes..."

Geralt nodded.

"Tell me more about her..."

"Does it interest you?"

"I want to know why you look sad when you mentioned her... Besides, this scarf always intrigues me.."

Clearing his throat, Jaskier explained:

"Her name was (Y/N) (L/N). She was the daughter of one of the most influential aristocratic families of Redania. We often played together when we were children, even if we did not belong to the same background. She was so lovely, full of life, intelligent... And she was the most beautiful girl I ever met!"

He had a sad smile.

"I once told her that, when we will be adults, I will marry her. She laughed, saying it was just a joke. The fact is, I was serious. I loved her - and I still love her. Unfortunately, I was too shy to tell her the truth. But, one day, a tragedy happened."

"Did she die?"

"No: she got kidnapped by slave traders. She was fourteen years old at the time. Her parents moved heaven and earth to find her but in vain. The only thing they found was this scarf. I took it and promised her parents that I would search for her, no matter what. They said I was a fool, but I kept my word."

Geralt understood.

"So, your bard career was half an excuse for your mission?"

"Exactly. But I have no clues where (Y/N) could be. I pray that she did not die..."

Feeling the distress in the voice of his friend, Geralt said:

"I am sorry about your friend."

Jaskier shrugged:

"Don't feel forced to pity me, you know. It is just that I owe you an explanation about this."

"You do not force me: I understood why you were enraged. I will be pissed off if someone breaks something that belonged to my mentor."

He put his large hand on Jaskier's shoulder.

"I can promise that I will help you in this quest. If (Y/N) is still alive, we will free her."

Moved by this unexpected gesture, the bard smiled.

"Thank you, Geralt. I knew that I count on you!"

"Don't worry, it's fine. Let's go: we have a long road before we arrive at Shantilene."

The two men continued their journey until they saw the murals surrounding Shantilene.

"Well, we arrived sooner than I expected,"  stated Jaskier.

"Let's hope that we will find an inn."

The bard and the warrior rode down the streets, looking for a tavern that would welcome them.

Looking around him, the musician saw a sign which indicated a tavern named The Voracious Boar.

"We can try to sleep there!"

"Let's try!"

They both entered the place: the atmosphere was loud, filled with raucous laughter and the jingling of kitchen utensils. 

Noticing a man behind the counter, Jaskier and Geralt went to him and asked:

"Are you the man in charge?"

Smirking, the man said:

"I own this place, sires! What do you want?"

"Hot meals and a place to sleep. Just for tonight!" replied Geralt.

The man squinted his eyes while watching at the tall monster hunter and the small bard.

"I recognize you: you are the famous Geralt of Rivia, The Witcher! And you must be Jaskier Dandelion, the bard."

"Does it pose a problem?" asked Jaskier.

"Not at all: as long as you pay, there is no problem! Take a seat at the table at the back of the room. A servant will bring you the meals!"

"Thank you, Sir!"

Geralt and Jaskier sat at the table and waited for their meals.

Looking around him, he noticed a young woman serving a bunch of men who seemed drunk.

When she turned to the table next to her, the bard nearly yelled of surprise. These brown locks, these blue eyes, this fair skin... It could not be someone else!

"(Y/N)!"

"What?" asked Geralt.

"The maid over there! It's (Y/N)!"

The Witcher looked at the young woman.

"Are you sure?"

"I am positive about it: it's her!"

Jaskier added with a trembling voice:

"Look at her! The last time I saw (Y/N), she was a young girl! And now, she is a beautiful young woman."

He turned to his friend.

"How could she ended up here?"

"I guess the boss paid her during a slave market."

As they talked, (Y/N) arrived at their table.

"Good evening, my lords. Here are your..."

She stopped in her tracks when she recognized the bard.

"J-Jaskier?"

"It's me, (Y/N)."

The young woman nearly dropped her tray in the grip of emotion. She stammered as tears started to fall:

"I have prayed every night that somebody would find me here. I thought they all forget about me."

"Not me, my butterfly. I never ceased to believe I will find you. I promised your parents that I bring you back home."

He noticed the chains on her neck and wrists, which infuriated him.

"How long have you been enduring such treatment?"

"For six years," she replied.

Suddenly, the owner of the tavern went to their table and lashed out at (Y/N):

"What are you doing here, you little whore? Go back to work immediately!"

"But..." she tried to protest.

"And you dared answer me? I'll give you a reason to shut up!" he screamed as he raised his hand.

As he was about to slap her, Jaskier slammed his plate on the owner's face.

"Don't you dare to touch her again!"

"Mind your business, bard! She is my property, and I do what I want!"

"Not anymore!" growled Geralt as he grabbed the man by the collar and lifted him from the ground.

All the clients looked at the scene with amazement. They wondered if the Witcher would kill this man.

"Please, please! I beg you: don't kill me!"

"Give me the keys!"

"The keys? Which keys?"

"Don't fool me! I talk about the keys for her chains!" 

"But I don't know where I put them!" stammered the man.

"Then you are useless!" snapped Geralt as he threw the man against the counter.

He turned to Jaskier and (Y/N).

"Let's get out of here!"

The trio ran from the tavern, Geralt eliminating those who dared stop them.

They went on horses and rode far away from this city. Once they were enough far from Shantilene, Geralt, Jaskier, and (Y/N) sat under the trees.

"Alright, we put some distance between us!" sighed the bard.

"Indeed... Now, we have to get (Y/N) rid of those chains." pointed The Witcher.

"We must find a blacksmith." explained the young woman.

"Ah, my dear. There is no need for a blacksmith when you have the mighty Geralt of Rivia with us!" happily exclaimed Jaskier.

Indeed, the monster hunter easily broke the iron chains with his bare hands.

"Thank you, Sire of Rivia!" muttered (Y/N) as she massed her wrists and her neck.

"No worry. After all, you are free!"

"I have been dreaming of it for ages." she gently smiled.

They decided to spend the night in the forest. As the night fell on the woods, Geralt went to pick some dead wood for the fire.

While the tall man went away, Jaskier and (Y/N) stayed near the horses, feeding them.

The bard noticed that the young woman shivered because of the wind. He picked the silk scarf and put it around her neck.

"I think you might need it..."

When she looked at the fabric, she exclaimed:

"This is the scarf I lost the day I get kidnapped!"

She gazed at Jaskier:

"You kept it all this time?"

Blushing, the bard explained:

"It was the only memory of you. When you disappeared, it felt like my heart crumbled down. I promised myself to give it back to you once I find you."

"How long have you been searching me?"

"Who cares? The most important thing is that you are here, alive and in good health!"

He nervously fidgeted his fingers.

"Moreover, there is something I longed for telling you..."

"What is it?" she asked.

He sighed before saying:

"Do you remember when I told you that I would marry you when we would grow up?"

"Yes, I remember. I told you it was a silly thing, but you stuck to it!" the young woman smiled.

"Well, the fact is I mean it. I mean it because I love you."

(Y/N) gasped.

"You... You love me?"

The bard nodded.

"For how long?"

"Since our childhood. Deep inside, I knew I would spend the rest of my life with you. You are such a beautiful soul and a lovely person. You are a lady, and I am just a bard, but I mean every single word."

She gently cupped his face between her hands.

"You might be a bard, but at least, you never stopped looking for me..."

She blushed.

"And to be honest with you, I prayed that you would be the one who would release me from this hell. Because..."

(Y/N) chuckled.

"Even if I told you when we were young that we could not marry, I hoped that it would happen because I love you!"

A wide grin appeared on Jaskier's face as he gently stroke her cheek.

"I cannot believe it comes true!"

He leaned closer and asked:

"May I kiss you?"

She smiled.

"Please."

They shared their first kiss, happy to find each other again... until a voice behind mockingly said:

"I suppose (Y/N) is coming with us?"

The two lovers turned and saw Geralt who watched them, a slight grin on his face.

"GERALT! I was enjoying this moment!" protested Jaskier.

"But to answer your question, Geralt: yes, I come with you!"

"Good. At least, you will be able to stop this chatterbox!"

"I HEARD YOU!"

They spend the night in the forest before pursuing their journey at dawn.

On their way to their next destination, (Y/N) asked: 

"Jaskier?"

"Yes, my muse?"

"Geralt told me you were ready to fight every army to find me. Is that true?"

The musician smirked before replying:

"If it would be the price to pay, I would do it."

He held her hand and added:

"Wherever you are, I will find you. I'll do."

A promise that he intended to keep until his final breath...

Thanks for the reading!

I hope you enjoyed the story!

Can’t wait to see your new requests!

See you later! 😘🥰😍💝

[thorne93]

The Stars Made Us (Part 32 - FINAL)

Prompt: In this world, you’re one of the “lucky” ones who got a soulmate, but what if the universe gives you more than you bargained for?

(Prompt challenge – You live in a world where your soulmate can write on their skin and you will get the writing on your own and vice versa. Where they can wash away the ink on their own skin, however, the writing is forever scarred onto your skin until you meet face to face)

Word Count: 2578

Warnings: angst and language throughout

Notes: This was supposed to be for @sorryimacrapwriter​​​​​  and their challenge like a year ago, I think? I still loved the prompt though and have been working on this story for quite some time. This aesthetic was made by @dontshootmespence​​​​​, thank you so much! Beta’d by @like-a-bag-of-potatoes​​​​​, couldn’t have done it without you, as well as @carryonmyswansong​​​​​ and @arrow-guy​​​​​ and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​​​​

Also, I’ve never really liked the whole soulmate AU thing idea, but this felt so right and it was amazing to write. I hope y’all love it too!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"There you have it, gentlemen. A world without Y/N. Get used to it," Rebecca said from behind her spot in the small room.

"You have to leave that room sometime," Stephen said as he looked at her through the two windows. 

"Oh, that's the beauty of it, see I can leave and you never even know--" 

A crackling noise caught her attention. Her eyes flashed to your form as the stone started to crumble away from you.

Stephen narrowed his eyes in response. "Uh, Charles," he started, not taking his eyes off your form. 

"What?" he choked out through a sob. 

"Look at this," he instructed. 

"What?" he repeated as he started to turn around, getting up and wiping his face. "What--What's happening?" he asked, confused.

"No, no," Rebecca suddenly said. "No, no it can't be. No!" she roared.

The stone continued to crumble away from you for another moment before finally, all of it was gone and you saw your two soulmates, a look of relief on their face. 

"It isn't supposed to end this way!" Rebecca yelled, distraught. 

Her voice set off something inside you and you pulled against your restraints. They suddenly disappeared, vaporized off you. You jumped off the bed and turned to face her in the small room.

"You--You can't come in here," she said shakily as she picked up a gun. "I have precautions!" 

Your blood boiled at the sight of her. You aimed your hand at the door and fired a shot of what looked like fire at the door -- it ceased to exist. 

She began to turn away from you, to what you were assuming was an exit door.

"Not so fast," you said, conjuring a whip and grabbing her with one hand. The other hand conjured another whip, grabbed the gun out of her hand, and pulled it into your hand. As soon as it hit your hand, she looked at you with fear. 

"No, please, don't," she begged, the conjured rope still wrapping her tight, keeping her put.

You disintegrated the gun giving her a look filled with hatred. Your eyes filled with black as you stared at her.

"Don't worry, I'll just do to you what you did to them," you said, gesturing back to your loves. "I'll take your world away." You focused your power, this new instinct on her. You let the rope go from her as your other power bled into her. 

"Wha--what's happening to me?!" she screamed as she looked around, horrified. She held her arms out just as someone would who lost their sight. "I--I can't hear anything, I can't see anything!" 

You smiled at her, putting a hand on her shoulder and forcing her to her knees. You looked up at the glass window that separated you from Stephen and Charles. You fired at it and it ceased to exist.

"What did you do to her?" Stephen asked. "What... What happened to you?" 

"I don't know," you admitted. "I just emerged from that stone and... this all feels so... natural. All I did was rob her of her senses. She can't hear, smell, taste, or see right now."

"Well, that's impressive, but what are we going to do with her?" Charles asked. 

---------------------

Stephen and Charles helped you get her into the elevator and all of you went above ground as the authorities were called. They had arrived, you lifted your powers and they took her away. 

"Charles, can I have a moment, please?" Stephen asked as he got extremely close to you. 

He looked at you and you nodded so he nodded as well, walking away to talk with some of the police. 

"I'm so happy to see you again, even if I did almost die," you said with a bit of a smile.

"Why is it, every time we meet, someone is having a crisis?" he asked with a laugh, one that you returned.

"I don't know." you admitted through chuckles. 

He put his hands on either side of your face. "Y/N, I love you."

"I know," you said, wondering why he was telling you this.

"Will you be mine?" 

You looked down. "Stephen, I can't go do this again. I've already told you that I can't choose--"

"I'm not asking you to," he suddenly said, cutting you off, making your eyes go up to his. "I'm saying, will you be mine and his? I want to know if you'll be mine, as well as his?"

You felt like you lit up a million degrees inside. "What? Yes, of course! Absolutely!"

He smiled a thousand-watt smile and picked you up, holding you tight to him before kissing you. 

"What made you change your mind?" you asked when he sat you down.

"Charles did. We talked on the way up here, and he made it very clear that you love both of us, and I shouldn't worry about you choosing one or the other, or favoring one, or leaving one. He made me realize that so long as we love you, and you love us back, everything will be okay and I can live with that. I've seen you almost die too many times, and I don't want to live another day without you being mine."

All you could do was hug him again before kissing him. 

“You do know what all that entails, right? You won’t get soul rights to me. I am free to come and go as I please.” 

He smiled, nodding and laughing, he said, “Yes, yes, whatever you want, just please, be with me?”

“I like the idea of whatever I want,” you mused in a low voice before giving him a chaste kiss. 

--------------------

As it turned out, you were an Inhuman. Charles and Stephen sought to find you answers, to see what Rebecca had released on you and why you emerged with innate powers. They found a group called Agents of Shield that had information on the crystal and the process you underwent. This would mean your parents were Inhuman as well, but they didn't know it because they hadn't been exposed to the Terrigen mist. 

Once you knew what you were and that it wasn't some odd side effect or something that could harm you, Charles worked with you on getting your powers controllable and seeing what all you were capable of. 

A year went by and you were the happiest you'd ever been, you were sure you were the happiest anyone had ever been. Time with Stephen and Charles was perfect. You spent your nights between the Mansion and the Sanctum. With Stephen able to open a portal between the two hour time gap wasn't even an issue. If you wanted to see him, he'd open a portal for you. If you spent the night and needed to get to work, he'd portal you there. If you wanted to go back to Charles, he'd send you there too. He was just thrilled to see you.

Balancing life between the two seemed oddly easy. There wasn't really a set schedule but for the most part you spent every other day with each man. Most of the time dinner was reserved for Charles and breakfast was reserved for Stephen, it just aligned with their clocks and schedules better. 

On a few occasions, Stephen still teleported you two exotic places for dinner, or lunch, or just to sight see. Charles had picnics with you. In a surprising twist of events, a few times, Charles drove you to the city for all three of you to have a day together. He knew Stephen couldn't leave the sanctum much so he tried to keep things close to him. Not only did they have a few dual dates with you, sometimes you caught the two of them at each other's place, chatting. It turned out they had quite a bit in common, that wasn't too much of a surprise. Both rich (or at least were), doctors, genius-level intellect, both were a bit arrogant and cocky, but above all else, both were very good men who just wanted to help people and two men who loved you with all their beings. 

Charles and Hank began to re-open the school, at your insistence. He was beyond thrilled to have the children in the house again and you promised to help keep the image of the school in a positive light. Stephen was learning everything he could about the mystic arts and you helped him every chance you could. Your practice was in full flight and you were doing exceptionally well in your field. 

One hot summer day, July 4th in fact, you walked into the foyer of the mansion.

"Charles? Darling? I'm home!" you called out. "I got everything we need for the barbecue tonight." 

Charles appeared from his office. "Hello, love. Here, let me help." He took a few bags and you went into the kitchen. You began to pull everything out when Charles grabbed your hand. "Would you come with me a moment? I'd like to show you something." 

"Oh, sure, just lead the way." 

He pulled you gently by the hand to the back patio. When you got out there, Charles stepped to the side and you saw Stephen. You glanced to Charles with a bit of happy surprise painted on your face.

"Stephen? What are you doing here?" you asked, before you ran full speed into Stephen. He picked you up and spun you around. "I didn't know you'd be coming." 

"Well, we wanted to surprise you," he informed. 

"Consider me pleasantly surprised. Oh I am so happy," you said as you watched Charles come over to stand beside Stephen. "I'll go start making the food right away so we can start the party." You started to turn but both men reached out and grabbed your hands. 

"One second, darling," Charles said. 

You peered at him with a curious look.

"Two years ago, out here in my backyard, on this very day, I told you I loved you for the first time. You and I kissed for the first time. It was long overdue, but I cherish it all the more because we waited until we were together in person, and in the right state of mind," Charles said.

He looked over to Stephen, as if passing on the turn to speak to him. A confused look crossed your face but you remained silent. 

"And one year later, in Nepal, you and I did the same."

"That was July 4th?" you asked, astounded. "I had no idea."

"I know, but luckily for us, I was keeping track of the days. Not to mention, how could I not remember the day you and I first said we loved each other and consummated our bond?" 

You hummed happily at the memory.

"Guess July 4th is kind of my lucky day with you two, huh?" you asked, a bit amused. 

"We hope so, because you have been a gift to us," Charles said. 

"You loved us when we couldn't love ourselves. You saw us through the darkest times and put up with us when we weren't the easiest to be around, let alone love," Stephen added. 

Charles continued, "You are selfless and bend over backward for everyone you meet. Although our situation isn't quite what most expect, or even understand..." 

"It works, and we wouldn't have it any other way, because it makes you happy," Stephen said.  

"We couldn't dream of living without you. You complete us, and we hope we complete you." 

You smiled at them. "What is this?" you asked, curious and amused. 

The two of them traded a mischievous look, smirking at each other before they looked back at you. The two of them reached into their pockets quickly before both of them lowered to one knee.

"Will you marry us?" they said in unison, peering up at you with love and adoration as they exposed rings that reflected their unique personalities. 

Your hand flew to your mouth. You were completely blown away. Your heart was racing. 

Finally, you realized you hadn't said anything. You said, "Oh my god, yes, of course, yes! A million times yes!"

Fireworks began exploding on the horizon as they grinned and got to their feet and wrapped their arms around you. You took turns kissing them quickly before they slid their rings on your finger, looking perfect side by side. Just as they were in your life -- completing you in ways you never knew you needed. All you had to do was trust the stars.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[the-dead-skwad]

Miss Lestrange Part 1 X Reader X George Weasley

Hello Harry Potter tumblr :) I’ve been writing for years but I’ve only just started writing Harry Potter fic even though I’ve been a fan since book one. I hope you like this one. I know Fred is the favourite Weasley twin but I’m a sucker for George. All feed back is welcome. There will more more parts to follow and my requests are never closed. 

Summary: New student at Hogwarts. Will she fit in? Make any friends? Her heritage will prevent that from happening.  

2491 words. (Slightly longer than I usually write)

You took a deep breath as you stood at the enormous doors to the great hall. Nerves coursed through you, you wiped your clammy hands onto your skirt. Taking a deep breath you heard “Everybody settle down!”  Dumbledore’s voice echo through the stone walls. “We have a new student joining us in her third year and I’m sure you’ll all make her feel welcome. Miss Y/N Lestrange.”

You blew a piece of your crazy hair from your face as the doors opened by themselves. All heads turned to look at you as you walked down the hall. You could hear them whispering. Your cousin stared wide eyed as you past him. Standing at the front in silence you darent even look at anyone till you were gestured to be sorted.

You sat on the wooden stool and before you could even think the hat screamed SLYTHERIN, it hadn’t even touched your head. It was absolutely no surprise given who your parents are. No one cheered just more whispers. You had a gut feeling you were not welcome in Hogwarts.

Taking your seat, the table filled with food and the noise of everyone talking started again. Being so nervous you weren’t that hungry.

“Hey!” you heard a whisper across the table. “Hey Y/N!”

“What?” You looked up at your greasy haired cousin.

“Where have you been? We-“ he paused for a second “The family thought you were dead.”

“Given light of recent events your parents thought it best they take me in and in consequence I have to go here.”

“They knew you were alive?”

“Yeah they just didn’t tell anyone where I was.” A piece of food hit you on the back of your head stopping the conversation. You whipped your head around to see two girls giggling to each other on the table behind you.

“Don’t do that.” Another girl whispered to them “That’s Y/N Lestrange.”

You carried on looking at them in silence, a small smirk crept across your face. “Boo!” The girls almost leapt out their seats. You laughed to yourself and turned back to the table.

Draco laughed nudging his friend sat next to him. You scowled at him “Just because we’re related does not mean I like you.”

The meal finished and everyone got up to leave. You followed the rest of the Slytherin’s to your common room. Draco was hot on your tail “Wait Y/N! Wait!”

“Oh my god!” You spun around to look at him “What do you want?”

“Well you should probably stick with me, you don’t know anyone and you don’t want to be mixing with any unsavoury types.”

You rolled your eyes “And who might that be?” As you spoke you turned around to catch up with the rest of Slytherin and you slammed straight into someone. “Ooh I’m sorry.”

“You’re okay sweetheart.”

You looked up to see a beautiful ginger haired man towering over you. “I erm… wow.”

“George, George Weasley.” He stuck his hand out.

“Y/N-“ You were cut off by Draco pushing past you and stopping in the middle of you both.

“A Weasley? This is exactly what I was just telling you Y/N,” He turned and looked George up and down “Unsavoury.”

“I can make that decision for myself thank you, and if you interrupt me one more time I’ll tell your lovely group of friends the age you stopped wetting the bed.” You could hear George laughing. Draco tried to stutter out some more words. “Go then.” You shooed him away. “Sorry he’s such an asshole.”

A smirk was plastered on his face “You got that right. Oh sorry Y/N this is Fred.”

“Oh wow... There’s two of you.”

George wiggled his eyebrows at you “I hope I see you around.”

“Me too.”

----

Hogwarts was amazing. Yes there was the fact that no one trusted you, most people feared you but at least you had the twins. They never ceased to make you smile. Even the golden trio had warmed to you because of them. You knew they would never fully be your friends giving who your parents are, but you tried. It wasn’t your fault you had to live with what they did, or what they were going to do. They treated you like a sister which was the problem sometimes. Your first year was the hardest papers had your mothers face plastered all over them. She had escaped from Azkaban and no doubt she would be looking for you. Everyday you prayed she wouldn’t find out you were at Hogwarts. The end of the year you went back to Malfoy manor. She never showed up so you thought you would be safe.

--

You sat in the library on a desk while George’s face was buried in a book. “Com one Georgie, there’s no way you can do it.”

He looked up at you and raised his eyebrows “You telling me I can’t do this? Wow, I thought we were friends.”

“I’m not saying you’re not a good wizard. I’m just saying Dumbledore is a hell of a lot smarter and far more powerful than us. I just don’t see that he would have left any loopholes in this.”

“Look.” He threatendly pointed his wand at you “I will get mine and Fred’s name in that goblet.”

You held your hands up “I warned you.” You flicked through a book turning the page not really paying attention to what it was about. Just down the isle opposite to you you could hear some girls whispering. The book slammed closed on its own. You looked down at George and sighed.

He placed a soft hand on your knee “Look you are a powerful witch, of course you do things without your wand. This school can help with that.”

“Thanks Georgie.” You smiled at him. Sliding off the table you plopped down on the chair next to him. “So, you found a date?”

“What?” His throat suddenly dried up.

“For the dance? You found a date yet?”

“Erm, not yet. Fred’s going with Angelina.”

You chuckled to yourself “I know, I saw him earlier in the great hall. You do know if you don’t hurry up Ron will get a date before you.”

“Rubbish!” He sounded offended. “I’ll find someone.” He turned back to his book.

“For god sake George!” You shouted, a girl behind you shushed you. Whipping your head round to face the girl “Shush ya self.” Turning back to George he looked startled “How many god damn hints have I got to give you?”

“Huh?”

“Did Fred get all the brains? If you have forgotten I am a girl… Go with me.”

“You?”

“Don’t sound so horrified.”

He looked shocked “No it’s not that.. I.. I just..”

“Bloody hell man spit it out.”

“I thought you already had a date.. You know I see the way Blaise looks at you.”

You scoffed “Blaise? You must be joking.”

He shrugged “Well I just thought he likes you.. you’re in the same house…”

“George I literally spend every second we’re not in class with you. And Blaise only likes me because my name holds so much power.” You used air quotes for the last bit.

He flicked his hair “Well I will say I’m very flattered.”

“You know I could always go to my common room. I’m sure I could find many dates in there.”

You went to stand but his hand grabbing hold of your wrist made you smile. You turned with a cheesy grin spread across you face, “Yes George?”

He shook his head at you, “Y/N Lestrange will you go to the ball with me?”

“Oh I thought you’d never asked.” You laughed “Yes of course I will.”

He held your hand for a moment longer and watched you as you laughed, feelings started to bubble in his stomach. Your eyes were so beautiful, your laugh contagious, your body… It was probably best of he stopped thinking about your body.

“George?” You waved your hand in front of his face “Lunch?”

--

You smoothed the dress down in front of the mirror, you took a deep breath.

“Wow..” A girls voice came from behind you, you turned to see Pansy “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you. So do you, my cousin is a very lucky man.” Out of all of Draco’s friends she was the one that irritated you the least.

She approached you and moved a piece of hair out of your face, it flopped straight back down. “Are you going to tell me who your date is? You know Blaise was quite disappointed.”

“He’s not exactly my type to be honest Pan.”

She chuckled “Well let’s go, can’t leave your mystery man waiting.”

You both walked down the stairs to the main hall together. People were everywhere, all so exciting. Your stomachs were doing flips. You prayed that George hadn’t got the same parcel as Ron because that thing was hideous. You looked down and George stood there looking back up at you, all of a sudden your nerves disappeared. He was perfect. As you approached him you laughed “Well?”

“Fucking hell man.” He breathed out.

“So good then?”

“I can’t even begin to explain how beautiful you look.”

You could hear Pansy and Draco sniggering behind you. You spun around glaring at them, there was no way he was ruining this moment for you. “What?”

“A Weasley?” Draco scoffed.

You raised your eyebrows at them both, as you were about to speak George held onto to your wrist, you turned to look in his eyes.

“It’s no worth It.” His voice was quiet.

You could melt into his eyes, shaking your head to snap out of it you smiled sweetly at him “For you everythings worth it.”

“Oh wow.” It was at that moment as he watched you rip Draco and Pansy to shreds that he was in fact so in love with you. He smiled to himself, this was going to be a problem.

--

It had been going so well, you had spent every moment you possibly could with the twins. You and George had gotten so much closer than you had ever dreamt. But nothing this good ever lasts long. It was the night everyone had etched into their brains. Sitting in the stadium you waved your flag with one hand as George held the other hand, a grin plastered across your face. Neither of you had confessed your love yet. You cheered As the crazy bastards ran into the maze. You looked across to them both. “I gotta say these aren’t exactly spectator sports are they?”

Fred laughed “What? You’re telling me you don’t want to spend your evening staring at a bush?”

“I’ve spent this past year cheering as a fellow classmate almost get killed by a dragon, whatever resides in the bottom of the lake and moving killer bushes.” You pondered for a moment, “Do you reckon they call your parents if your name gets picked? Like hi, is that Mrs Weasley? Yeah just to let you know there’s a very high chance your son will die this year, hope you don’t mind.”

George was staring at you in awe, “I love how your brain works.”

“Thanks, you know what I love?”

He leaned forward onto his hand with hope in his eyes “Please do tell.”

“Hair clippers.” You smiled at both the twins that had frowns plastered across there faces. “Come on guys, just give me like 10 minutes and some clippers.”

“You’re trying to tell me you don’t love my hair?” Fred waved it dramatically.

You shrugged “I’m just saying.”

“I’ll make a deal with you!” George laughed “You cut my hair, I get to straighten yours.”

“But my hair is where I hold all my magical powers. I will be deemed powerless without it.”

He nudged you “You’re so stupid.”

The three of you were laughing and joking so much you barely noticed the contest was almost over. All that was left was Harry and Cedric. Fred made a slight comment about you and George being disgusting as he whispered something in your ear. Your smile quickly faded as Harry appeared in front of the crowd clutching Cedric’s body. The music faded and the crowd stood frozen. Harry’s words rung in your ears “He’s back! Voldemort’s back!” Your heart fell to your stomach, your mouth dried up. Looking up at George with your eyes wide you couldn’t think of what to say.

“Y/N?” You could see how worried he was.

Managing to croak words out “I… I have to go.” Tears started to form in your eyes.

“Don’t leave..” He held as tight as he could to your hand.

“Stay with us.” You both turned to look at Fred. “You’ll be safe at home in the burrows.”

You shook your head “I can’t do that to you guys. I have no idea what’s going to happen, and I would never put you or your family in danger.” Just as you finished talking Draco appeared next to you.

“Y/N we need to get you back to the manor.”

“Fuck that! He’ll know you’re there.” George still wasn’t letting go.

You placed your free hand on his cheek, “I promise you I will come back. I’m not putting you in this situation.” You managed to get out of his grip.

He pulled you back one last time “I love you.”

“I love you too Gerogie.” You put your foreheads together for a second “I’ll be okay, I promise.”

Running through the crying crowd you couldn’t look back. You both reached to the whomping willow and stopped in its shadow. “Draco what are we doing here?”

A green flash from the sky came from further down the field. “Come on.” He said as he ran to it.

You didn’t trust him but you had no idea what was happening. As you ran you could see a woman at the edge of the forest. The closer you got the clearer it became. Narcissa stood there waiting.

Draco ran straight into her arms. Only you really knew what a big softy he really was. She pulled you in for a hug as well. “Are you both ok?”

“Is it true?” You asked “I she back?”

“Yes sweetheart. I’m going to take you home back to the manor. I haven’t told anyone except Draco where you will be. There’s enough rooms and spells to keep you hidden.”

“Thank you.” You looked at your cousin “Are you coming?”

“No, it will look strange if both of us are gone.”

“I understand,” Looking back up the castle you sighed “Will I ever come back?”

Narcissa gave you a gentle smile “If it’s safe enough yes.” She took your hand in hers and looked to Draco “Be safe my boy.” And with that she apparated you both away leaving him stood alone at the edge of the dark forest.

[simsadventures]

Only Mine: Chapter 10: The Question

Summary: You want spend precious time with Natasha, who you haven’t seen in a while. Then an idea pops into your head, and Bucky is more than happy to oblige, before he asks you some important questions.

Warnings: implied smut, phone sex (MUST BE 18+ TO READ THE PART BETWEEN WARNINGS) fluff, swearing, mafia AU

Word Count: 3551

A/N: I feel like I haven’t updated in forever, so sorry for that. Not too much is happening here, I’m more preparing my ground for what is about to come next. Hope you’ll enjoy it nevertheless. Tell me what you thought, you guys! I love this series so much, tbh xx

Series Masterlist __ Masterlist

< Previous Chapter

It was not that you didn’t enjoy your time at the mansion. You surely did, but after a few days (because of course Bucky didn’t let you leave just like that when he had all things he needed at one place) you felt like you could use some alone time. Or, more specifically, time with your own friends.

Bucky acted as if he couldn’t speak English when you told him that you’d like somebody to drive you home and that somebody could presumably be anybody else but Brock. Even though he stayed clear of you the whole time you spent in the house, it didn’t mean you felt any better about the guy. You still remembered his sly comments, and it never ceased to make you shudder.

Bucky tried to list all the advantaged of you staying there with him, and although constant sex and not having to cook did sound pretty good, you knew you had to leave, one way, or the other. It was also the end of the weekend, and as much as you liked Bucky and spending some quality time with him, your boss would probably not be too happy about you not coming to work the next day.

But most of all, it felt like a century since you last saw Nat. You were used to be with her almost every single day, just sharing stupid stories from work, and having a laugh about the stupidity of some people. But because you spent so much time with Bucky, you just didn’t have the time for Natasha. And you were feeling like the worst friend in the world.

Bucky’s protests were loud and clear, but your resilience was stronger, and so it was Sunday afternoon, that you finally managed to make him budge, and he actually let you leave the mansion. Not without a long and very steamy goodbye though. He insisted it was either a hot shower sex, or you not leaving his house ever again, so…

It was Peter who drove you back, and even though Bucky wanted to accompany you, he had some pressing matters to attend to, and, to be quite frank, you didn’t mind one bit. You enjoyed your time spent with Peter, because he was just such a sweetheart, and you wanted to get to know him better.

“I don’t want to pester you, Peter, and if you don’t feel like answering my question, you totally can stay quiet,” you said, while his eyes were glued to the road, probably because Bucky told him that if there was a hair wrong on your hair when he next saw you, Peter would be responsible.

“I’m an open book, Y/N. Ask away!”

“Alright. I was curious, as to what such a sweet boy, and so young, on top of it, is doing with Bucky’s gang. I mean, sure, you’ve got the power, and I bet the money ain’t that bad either, but you seem so smart, and I just wondered what made you decide for this line of work, really,” you mused, and waited for his reply.

You knew you were being nosey, but you just couldn’t help yourself.

There was a silence in the car while Peter thought about his answer, and you didn’t rush him.

“Uhm, well, my uncle used to work for Bucky’s father, he used to be his accountant, and because he and my aunt May raised me, it was one of those things that were almost given, you know? I tried to go to university, but it just didn’t feel right. So I quit and asked Bucky if I could help him out, and he took me in. Also, I wanted to help May. She is an amazing woman and after losing my uncle, I just wanted to help her out a bit, you know? And going to university, that would just drain her completely, and I didn’t have the heart to do it.”

You listened to him intently, your heart tightening in your chest for him. You could see he was ok with his fate, but, somehow, you weren’t. You wanted more for this sweet kid, and even though you didn’t really know how to achieve that, you made a mental note to try and help him and his aunt so that he could pursue a better career. Or at least one where he wouldn’t have to face death almost every single month.

Before you knew it, Peter was pulling over in front of your building. The street lamps were already lit, the dim light they were emitting setting a warm feeling in your heart. The sun was down, and only a few orange and pink clouds were giving away the beauty of the previous day. You kissed Peter’s cheek, which even in the hardly lit car caused him to blush so hard you could actually see it, and you giggled slightly.

You bid him goodnight and getting out of the car, you pulled out your phone from your purse, dealing Bucky’s number. He made you promise to call him as soon as you got home, and you knew you would have caught hell weren’t you to call him immediately.

He picked up in seconds, and you had to laugh in your head. He was such a softie, even if he never admitted it.

“Already missing me, doll?”

You could almost see the smirk on his stupid face, and you shook your head, unlocking the front door.

“Oh, that’s how it is now, huh? I thought you wanted me to let you know, but I guess I was wrong, bye, Buck!” You hollered, even though you had no intention of hanging up on him.

“NO” Wait! I was just joking! I’m glad you called, doll, you know me. I was just teasing you, that’s all. I’m happy you’re home and safe. Was the ride ok, or should I take care of the youngling?”

“Don’t you even dare tell him anything, joke or not. He’s mortified of you, and I don’t wanna be the reason you’re making him uncomfortable. The ride was perfect, and you should be glad you have such a sweetie amongst your men!” You told him, imagining him rolling his eyes at your comments. He always did this when you talked to him about his line of business.

“Right, because it’s such an important trait for a mobster, to be a fucking sweetie. Imma have to remember that one when I hire more men. If you’re not a sweetie, you can’t fucking work for him. You wanna kill him? Sure, but do it sweetly.”

You snorted out a laugh just as you entered your apartment and breathed a sigh of relief. You missed this little place. Your little safe haven.

“You’re such a dork. I’m just saying that he can actually act human, not like I can say that about all of your guys,” you took a jab at Brock and Bob, but continued right afterwards, not wanting to give him a reason to get angry again.

“Anyway, I’m gonna go, I think me and Nat are gonna have a glass or five, and then we’ll go to sleep. Hope you have a good night, babe,” you almost whispered, walking further in the apartment and spotting Nat sitting on the sofa, smiling at you with two glasses of wine ready. How she knew you were coming, that was a mystery to you.

“Don’t think I didn’t hear what you said there! Be safe and text me when you wake up. Night!”

You wanted to laugh at him for being such an overprotective boyfriend, but he already hung up. Bucky couldn’t make a friendly phone call, and that was why you always rather either texted him or spoke to him in person. His telephone persona was just too stiff for you.

“Hey there, stranger! I almost thought you moved there and that I had to look for another roommate!” Nat smiled at you sheepishly, and you stuck your tongue out, which made her laugh.

“Not my fault my boyfriend wants me all to himself,” you said, shrugging your shoulders, and Nat had to roll her eyes at you.  

“Your boyfriend is a mafia boss, of course, he wants you to himself, babe! Anyway, how is life going in the mafia paradise, huh? He’s been treating you well, I hope. If not, I’m gonna go and kick his juicy ass!”

You wanted to take a sip of your wine, but Nat’s comment made you spit it out like a hippo, and your hand wasn’t fast enough to cover your mouth which made the white wine sprinkle everywhere on the sofa.

“You can’t say things like that! I could have drowned, for Christ’s sake! Anyway, a juicy ass, huh?” You smirked at her.

The rest of the night went similarly, you two were talking your hearts out about everything that has happened since you two had a proper girls’ evening. By the time it was 1AM, you were both giggling messes, slightly drunk but definitely happy.  

And it was in that state that an idea emerged in your brain. You bid Nat goodnight and went to your room, picking up your phone and dialling the only important number.

—-

Bucky was already asleep when his phone started vibrating next to his head. He wanted to ignore it, thinking it could wait till morning to deal with the world and with the person being so rude as to call him so late at night.

But when he saw who was calling him, he sat up straight and didn’t hesitate in picking up.

“Doll? What’s wrong? Where are you? Should I come for you?” He was distressed, just the mere thought of you being hurt made him want to vomit. He could gut a person with his bare hands, but he couldn’t stand the thought of you suffering.

He heard a little giggle escaping your mouth, and your heavy breathing and his brows furrowed.

“You could come alright if you know what I mean,” he heard you say seductively, and his face was now wearing a look of utter confusion.

Warning, smut starting

“What? Y/N? Are you- are you drunk, doll?” He asked, his hand on his face as he tried to breathe through his slight panic attack.

“Maybe, maybe not. But I miss you, James, and I thought we could have a little fun, what do you say?” You were whining, and before Bucky knew what was happening a strangled moan left your lips, and the sound went straight to his groin.

“Doll, are you doing what I think you’re doing?”  

“Depends. What do you think I’m doing, James?” The way his name rolled off your tongue would be enough to get him off. He loved it when you called his name, all sweaty, with puffed up lips, parted enough he could kiss you deeply whenever he liked.

He growled as a response, and he heard you moaning again. His dick was already standing proud, just the thought of you making it all excited and ready for action. Bucky sighed and lied down, keeping his sleeping pants on, just freeing his aching cock.

“You’re teasing me, Y/N, that’s what you’re doing. So stop it, and tell me exactly what you’re doing to that pretty pussy of yours.”

He could hear the sudden intake of breath on the other side of the line and had to smirk at your reaction. He could have you gasping even if he wasn’t there to perform his magic

Few seconds passed before you regained your composure and actually started talking. Bucky was just intently listening to the sounds leaving your mouth, imagining what you looked like at the moment, and each image his mind created was hotter than the previous one. But he knew no matter what he imagined, the reality was ten thousand times better, and he seriously hated himself for letting you go home. He could’ve been balls deep inside you by now.

“I’m picturing you with me, James, the way your beard scratches along under-boob, and the way you suck on my tits when you thrusting deep inside me, hitting all the right spots as you go,” you said quietly, and Bucky could tell you were biting your lip, trying to stay as quiet as possible. But because you were a screamer, he knew you wouldn’t be able to keep that up for long.

Bucky would be lying if he said he wasn’t turned on by your little sighs and moans, and just the whole idea that you got drunk with your friend, and the thing you wanted to do at 1 AM in the morning was to call him and have phone sex with him.

“Yeah? And how does that feel, baby?” Bucky asked you, his voice strained from the effort of not coming right there and then.

“Oh, yeah! You feel amazing, James. So good and ohmygod… so sooo deep! Ooooh,” you were muttering and moaning, and Bucky couldn’t help it but let a moan of his own escape his lips. He could hear the whimper coming from your bed, and he swore under his breath. You would be his death, Bucky was sure of it.

The rest of the phone call was filled with both of you moaning and encouraging the other to speed up, to do it harder, and it 6 minutes, you were both hissing and groaning, coming together just as if you were actually sharing a bed.

Warning ending

For a moment, all that could be heard on the line was panting, both of you trying to calm down your hearts, and come down from your bliss.

“Well,” Bucky said when he regained his composure, “that was something else, doll. You alright?”

He could hear your sighs, and he could only imagine the blissful expression on your face right now.

“‘M fine. Tired, but oh-so-good. I’m sorry if I woke you up, I just needed to hear your voice.”

Your voice indeed sounded exhausted, and while Bucky cleaned himself, he mumbled on the phone, grinning like an idiot.

“Never apologise for wanting to have sex with me, phone or not. And if I ever tell you to stop, or to quit it, please, just kill me. Go to sleep, Y/N. You’re going to work tomorrow, and you should get at least some rest before you do so.”

You just hummed, and Bucky was pretty positive you were already drifting off, tired and satisfied. He smiled at the phone and mumbled a low goodnight before he hung up and went off to sleep himself. And all he could dream off that night was you being curled against his side, safe and sound.

—-

The whole day was a nightmare. Not only did you have a slight hangover in the morning, and your head felt like it would burst into flames any minute, you also came a bit late to work, which didn’t help your situation at all. Not that your boss minded too much, but still. You hated it when you were late.

By the end of the day, you wished you could be at home, taking a hot bath with your favourite scented candle, and let the whole day disappear from your mind.

But, obviously, Bucky had different plans, when it came to your evening, because as you got out of the office, there he was, standing like a statue surrounded by his men.

Kate and the others looked like deers in headlights, just standing there, confused and slightly terrified, with their eyes looking like they’d fall out if they moved. You just nodded their way and rolled your eyes at Bucky and his dramatic entrance into your personal life. He just HAD to come there.

You could feel all the eyes on you as you walked towards the black SUV and the infamous man standing in front of it. Only Nat knew about your relationship, and you thought you’d have a bit more time keeping in secret. But obviously, Bucky’s plans differed from yours and oh boy, would he hear about that one!

You didn’t even spare him a look, giving a small smile to Peter and Sam who were next to Bucky and you got in the car, shutting the door right behind you. You crossed your arms in front of you, clenching your jaw.

You didn’t even know why you were this mad. At first, you thought it was because you didn’t want to be seen with Bucky, his reputation preceding him. But then you realised that you didn’t care about that anymore. Sure, he was a gangster and he, without a doubt, did some things you wouldn’t even want to know about, but when he was with you, and with people he cared about, he was this amazing guy who would do anything for his people. And that’s what you valued the most.

It was that he didn’t even tell you he’d come and very obviously show everybody who you were seeing. It was your privacy as well as his, and you hated that he just made this decision without consulting you.

When he finally got in the car, he immediately turned to you with his eyebrows raised. You huffed out a breath and turned to face the window, not ready to have this fight just yet.

“Would you share with me, what the hell was that all about? Don’t I fucking deserve a kiss, picking up my girlfriend from work? What you so pissed about?”

You didn’t even answer him, not wanting to cause a scene in front of his men. Sam may have been his best friend, and Peter was still a kid, but you knew better than to lecture him in front of them. You just shook your head and waited till you got to your apartment so you could have a civilised conversation with him, which you knew wouldn’t happen in the car.

When Peter pulled over in from of your building, you said your goodbyes to the two in front and nodded at Bucky to follow you. He didn’t even question you, probably curious and pissed as hell you were still not speaking to him.  

Once in the apartment, he followed you to your room, closing the door behind the two of you, and once again, raising his brows at you.

“You gonna tell me what’s got your panties twisted or should I fucking deduce it somehow?” He was pissed, alright.

You turned on your heel, facing him with a furious expression.

“Did I ask you to come and pick me up from work? Or did you just DEDUCE that was something I wanted and just fucking acted on it?”

His expression was blank, but you knew that a million thoughts were running through his mind.

“You still on about that bullshit that I’m not boyfriend material and people are gonna judge you? Thought we got over that! Thought you were ok with being my girl,” he raised his voice at you, and you flinched at his tone, but you weren’t about to be intimidated by him. No fucking way!

“And have you ever asked me to be your fucking girlfriend, when you’re running around like a macho, acting as if we were a solid item, huh?”

Bucky was stunned. He told you you were his, and all of that, but he never thought you’d actually want him to ask you to be his girlfriend.

He smirked and took a step closer, you taking one step back. You were not ready to make up just yet.

“I didn’t know it was required, doll. If only I knew, I would’ve asked a lot sooner! I told you you were my girl and you didn’t protest, so I took it you were fine with that. But if you’re not, fine. My beautiful, amazing Y/N, would you do me the honour and be my official girlfriend? Please?”  

Well, that please really did that for you. Bucky, and pleading, you wouldn’t get anything better out of him, anyway.

“Since you’re asking so nicely, James,” you accentuated his name and smirked at him, earning a chuckle from him.

“You can be so fucking difficult sometimes. Why didn’t you say so in the car?”

“I was worried we would actually fight and I didn’t want to undermine your authority in front of the guys,” you smiled sweetly at him, and let him pull you in a hug.

“I’d spank your cute ass if you did that! Oh, and I came because I had another question on my mind. Is it a good time to talk to you about something else, or are you still pissed at your boyfriend?”

You swatted his chest lightly.

“What is it, my amazing boyfriend?”

He kissed the crown of your head and pulled you even closer.

“My birthday is coming up, and we have this tradition, that always on my birthday we organise a ball in some specific theme so that we can gather around looking dope as fuck and having a lot of kinky sex. Which, I hope, will be with you this year,” he added quickly, seeing your face turning red.

“Would you come with me, as my date?”

/Next Chapter >

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[musical-chick-13]

Cersei Lannister for the character ask thing :)

YAY MY ALL-TIME FAVE

• Did they live up to their potential? / In what ways was their potential unachieved?

-Um...YES. I’m going to focus on show here because...the books...aren’t finished...SO. Although I do wish the end of the show had focused more on the fallout of her history with Sansa and I do wish she had been afforded a more direct confrontation with Dany, I don’t think I could have ever asked for a better villain. I started watching the show because I was told there was a hot evil lady, and I could never have imagined the utter humanity Lena brought to her or the nuance and clearly-motivated yet realistic complexities afforded to Cersei’s character. I had waited my whole life for some female character any female character to be allowed to be fucked up. To do stupid things and make mistakes and feel ugly/extreme emotions and experience internalized misogyny and have terrible coping mechanisms and be mentally ill in an ugly (as in, not cute/romanticized) way. To keep going out of spite even though she thought there was nothing to keep going for. I saw little glimmers of that early season 1, and those only got better and better as Cersei only got more and more formidable as time went on. I truly am winning the most I love her so much.

• How they negatively and positively affected the story.

-The thing here is that without Cersei, there really is no overarching story. Her relationship with Jaime is what drives the entire plot and Ned’s uncovering of the court’s corruption. Her refusal to have Robert’s child on the throne (or give birth to his child in the first place) is what causes the succession crisis that even makes everyone else’s power plays a possibility. She spurs Sansa’s development from idealistic child to jaded young adult, which is lynchpin of the whole Northern Independence arc that ultimately ends in her being crowned there. And through all of this, she is both ruthless and sympathetic. She has understandable motivations: she is tired of being treated as less-than for being a woman. She feels like her life is meaningless in such a world if she cannot have power. Power is the only way to truly be safe. She wants to protect her children. She wants her father to understand her. She wants to break herself away from her womanhood but she can’t escape it. All of these things enrich the story because they make the watcher/reader ask, “What truly makes someone evil. Is what she’s doing that much worse than what anyone else in this show does? What course of defense does she have by not being an athletic woman who can physically fight? If love makes you do terrible things, is it always a force of good? What do we allow people to get by with in the name of protecting their family? At what point does self-preservation become irredeemably villainous? How do we talk about abuse of power when the people abused are also terrible people who do terrible things?” All of these questions deal with deconstructing the idea of black and white morality, which is, I would argue, the entire point of the series. So she serves that end quite nicely. :)

• What my favorite arc for them is.

Oooh, this is a tricky one. I’m a sucker for anything that allows Cersei to go absolutely feral and I love pain, so probably her fight against the Faith Militant. They try to take absolutely everything from her. She is so blinded by the threat  Margaery poses to her family’s and her stability, that she makes a not-too-well-thought-out decision. (You know, like a real person.) She loses her reputation, she gets thrown in prison, her main ally turns on her, and she goes through the Walk of Atonement, which is honestly probably the most painful thing I’ve ever fucking seen. She spends an entire season trying to pick up the pieces and it culminates in the most badass death-to-my-enemies scene I think I’ve ever seen. And to see a character pull themselves back up from the brink of complete ruin? Especially one who is severely depressed and “hysterical”? We love to see it.

• What I think of their ending.

PERFECT BEAUTIFUL AMAZING 10/10 MY GIRL DIED THE LAST QUEEN TO EVER SIT ON THE IRON THRONE DIDN’T GET BRUTALLY MURDERED AND DIED IN THE ARMS OF THE ONLY MAN SHE EVER TRULY WANTED WHO LOVED HER UNCONDITIONALLY GOD FUCKING BLESS

Personal bias aside, Jaime and Cersei were always going to die together. Jaime was never truly “redeemed,” he just became more understood. (Feeling ashamed of being ostracized and generally agreeing some of your actions were bad =/= becoming a good person who breaks ties with every unhealthy or immoral behavior you engage in.) Jaime came back to Cersei because they understand each other. And Cersei recognizes that she is about to truly lose everything. Her family, her power, her empire, her life. But in the end, she realizes that there was one glimmer of good and that she doesn’t have to lose all of those things alone. It’s a humbling, miserable death, but in very many ways it comes the way she always knew it would: at the hands of another woman, and by the side of the man who is such a part of herself that that other woman in question ceases to matter. Her last moments might be because of Daenerys, but they aren’t about her, they’re about Jaime and Cersei. The only two people. Together. Just as they’d always predicted. And then the person responsible for her death doesn’t even get to enjoy it because it came at the price of a complete loss of conscience. My fave not brutally murdered onscreen via betrayal and whose demise is because of someone who ultimately doesn’t even gain that much from her death? Beautiful, I want 500.

Cersei is terrified (which. yeah of course she is.) but she went out knowing that everything she did in her life wasn’t completely meaningless, that her pursuit of safety and security at all costs ultimately ended in someone she loved trying to comfort her. She gains that sense of comfort and self-awareness she always wanted in chasing after power, but not in the way she had ever envisioned. Not because of any specific thing she did or any specific enemy she defeated, not because of a particularly intelligent power play or who her father was or which house she aligned herself with, but simply because she loved someone who loved her and that alone was enough. In her final moments, in a way completely at odds with everything she has ever tried to do, she finally finds acceptance. The tragedy is that she can’t enjoy it longer. What a poetically sad, cathartic, fitting end to her quest for self-preservation.

• When I wish they had died. / If I think they should’ve died.

She almost, almost makes it to the end. She outlasts the White Walkers (which I think is valid because she was nowhere near the battle, and, ultimately, her primary enemy is her own penchant for self-destruction, in a way most of the other characters’ aren’t). For years she hangs on out of spite, and no human can kill her though many have tried or wanted to. Ultimately, she can’t compete with dragon WMD’s and a crumbling city. She did sort of achieve her objective. No specific person killed her. It took nonhuman entities to succeed at that. Fits in nicely with the “So you got what you wanted but not quite” theme of the series. Obviously I wish that she and Jaime could escape to Pentos with their child and live peacefully forever, but a) they would be hiding forever to prevent the people they’ve harmed (so like...the whole realm) from coming after them which I just don’t think they’d have much patience for, and b) I really don’t think Cersei would ever give up her quest for power and ruling the world because she would never feel safe or like her existence was meaningful otherwise. In order for the story to have anything remotely resembling a peaceful or happy ending for Westeros at large, she has to die. Which makes me very sad because I LOVE HER, but narrative cohesion is also a thing.

[coeurdastronaute]

Essays in Existentialism: Polo 3

Previously on Polo

The sun was glaring; absolutely murdering the entirety of the world in the noontime shine of a clear day in the early spring. The heat couldn’t come just yet, still not allowed due to larger forces like the tilt of the planet and the distinct absence of a certain player, yet to be seen despite a not-so-covert glance at the pitch during warm ups. The entire event was going to be the largest of its kind, and it was like the world knew it, opening itself up and shining all of the kindest wishes on the sport, as a large herd of watchers made their way to find a place to watch. 

The tents were stocked with alcohol and snacks, people in hats and those who were there because they were supposed to be. But along the pitch, bleachers filled up with anyone who wanted to watch, creating an atmosphere of joy and excitement that’d been lacking at the private matches. 

There really wasn’t a reason to be there. Clarke had more than fulfilled her daughterly duty for the entire year with her increasingly frequent showings at events for both of her parents. She chalked it up to growth, and becoming a better person, to make an effort, to try her best to show her mother that she was happy for her, and to prove to her father that she was deserving of her name, even if that meant trudging through society things in lieu of his wife. 

But seeing as Kane’s opening of the Gauntlet of Polo opening day party was not her mother’s, nor was it something she felt compelled to do to represent her father, Clarke had no true reason to go other than because Kane was nice enough to invite her, and she truly had nothing else to do. 

“So where’s the hot polo playing Argentinian underwear model who recites you poetry and fucks you in stables?” 

Clarke grit her teeth before sighing and shaking her head, giving her best friend a look that should equal death, if she’d been luckier. 

“What?” Raven shrugged. “I want to get a good look at the girl that convinced you to be okay with your parents divorce. I’m sure there are over-paid therapists who would kill to know how to do it.” 

“She didn’t--”

“And made you nicer in general to your parents. And me. And your life is less chaotic now-- I’ve noticed you are volunteering. That must be some of the worlds most powerful puss--”

“Kane! Mom!” Clarke interrupted her friend’s tangent, thankfulness apparent in her voice as she found the host and hostess. 

Her mother was always beautiful, but Clarke began to see how much nicer happiness looked on her, and as much as she claimed to always love her father, there was a girlish spark that came when Abby was near Marcus. It took Clarke long enough to put aside her feelings to see it, but when she did, she couldn’t have been happier, despite the occasional bitterness about what was lost. It was Lexa’s stupid notions of love that messed with her brain and her ability to hold a grudge. 

There’d been a truce between herself and Kane, reached gently and treated very cautiously, but still, it remained. She had dinner with them just a week ago when they were in the city, and it wasn’t entirely painful. As much as she wanted to dislike Marcus Kane, she couldn’t bring herself to do it because he was just… nice. And he made Abby smile in a way that Clarke didn’t realize she hadn’t seen in a while. 

The real benefit of all of this love and joy being that while Abby got to live her best truth, it meant less comments about Clarke’s “wasted potential,” and there was a bigger focus on her art, which led to less stress with their average communications. 

“Oh, honey you made it,” Abby smiled and hugged her daughter, kissing her cheek quickly, squeezing her shoulders. “I didn’t think we’d find you in all this.” 

“Believe it or not,” Clarke explained as she accepted a quick hug from her mother’s boyfriend. “It’s easy to find the guy who owns a team in a tournament sponsored by his company.” 

“I’ve been looking and couldn’t find you.” 

“I took Raven to see the ponies.” 

“Look at that,” Kane grinned. “She’s using proper jargon already.” 

“Clarke’s given me a quick rundown, but I don’t know if I trust her expertise yet,” Raven offered after all pleasantries were exchanged. “Care to teach me, Kane?” 

“The more the merrier,” he smiled wider, like a kid in a candy store, surrounded by people who wanted to listen to him explain his favorite sport. “We better go find a good spot. It’ll start soon.” 

Raven turned and gave Clarke a wry grin before linking her arm with Kane’s as she maneuvered them through the crowd. Clarke let her mother squeeze her and follow along a few steps behind. 

“It means a lot that you’ve tried to take an interest in something that Marcus finds important,” Abby offered as they meandered along. 

“Just a good reason to be outside, and Raven loves selling rich people her programs and things,” Clarke dismissed her effort for anything benevolent as she grabbed a flute of champagne gratefully. “I’m fairly certain that’s the only reason she keeps me around.” 

“Whatever the reason. It means a lot to me. I know it wasn’t easy to find out--”

“We don’t have to do this.” 

“I know,” Abby relented. “You just never cease to amaze me is all. Marcus is important to me, and you’ve taken the time to get to know him, just like I’m sure you would when your father starts--”

“Dad won’t date anyone else.” 

The words came out a little bit too harsh, and Clarke wasn’t sure why she felt so protective of her father’s refusal to get over a broken heart. 

“He will eventually, and believe it or not, no matter how he feels about Marcus and even me right now, seeing you be open to our happiness will make it easier.” 

“I guess I’m just a saint.” 

It was meant to be a joke, but Clarke felt suddenly a little guilty. They took their seats beside Kane and Raven, and Clarke looked out on the pitch, wondering if she would be there at all if it hadn’t been for the oddest addiction she somehow developed for a stupid girl who argued with her every time she saw her. 

She might not even get to see Lexa today. She might only see her on the pitch. And would that be a waste? Should she think about this perfect stranger as often as she did and look forward to this stupid even for the past three weeks? Was she proving Lexa’s points right about lust and love and soulmates? Did she believe in something like soulmates? How could she? And what did it matter. Wasn’t this a lot to do just for sex? Very, very, very good sex, but still--

“You’re not zoning out already, are you, Clarke?” Kane smiled and waved his hand in front of her face, bringing her back to reality. 

“Just listening, making sure I remember everything.” 

Raven gave her a look. 

“Now tell me about your team. Clarke was telling me all about how skilled the one… what was her name?” 

“Lexa,” Kane offered excitedly, before Clarke could bring herself to utter the name. “She is incredibly skilled. I’ve never seen someone ride with such passion. She is so fluid, covering everything, seeing plays before they happen. And she’s got this passion in her blood for the sport. She hits hard, and takes a licking-- Are you okay?” 

Only when Kane stopped talking did Clarke realize she’d spilled her glass, letting it tilt back toward her chest as she remembered exactly how passionate and fluid and licking that Lexa had been. The cool liquid froze her chest, dripping down her front as she hurried to pat it dry. 

“Fine, fine. I wasn’t paying attention.” 

“Off in another world,” he offered politely. 

“This girl has her head in the stables,” Raven joked, though only Clarke understood it. “I get now why Clarke’s so passionate about those ponies. You are a hell of a salesman, Kane.” 

“This is something that costs me money. Imagine what I can do with something I want to make money off of.” 

They shared a laugh and Clarke joined in, only half paying attention as the team was announced and she caught the now familiar jerseys making their way to the center for the start of the match. 

There was an air to the polo player, helmet on, stoic and sitting tall as she stood beside her fellow teammates, her horse still as she was. Lexa listened politely to the anthem, she listened to the announcer, but she didn’t move more than necessary. It was by a stroke of luck that she found Clarke in the crowd, though Clarke wouldn’t agree anything was lucky about it, because now she had to sit in the stands after getting the full weight of Lexa’s glance. Only slightly did Clarke notice the pull of one corner of Lexa’s mouth and the fire behind her eyes. It made her gulp. 

Lexa didn’t look away the entire time and neither did Clarke. She didn’t have to say anything. They both knew. 

XXXXXXXXXX

It was an actual match, and a hard fought one to begin the Gauntlet that would last the next few months, and Lexa ached in the most delicious kind of ways after the win. Over the next week she’d have to win five more to hoist the first cup, collect the first purse, and move onward in hopes of completing the perfect Gauntlet, winning all three cups, and collecting the bonus purse that would triple her yearly income. 

No pressure at all when trying to impress a girl who was set to inherit billions. With a B. 

Showered and cleaned up, Lexa made it to the crowds in time to catch part of the second match. The sun was dimming, fading into the trees, giving a bit of a sunset despite the lights that shined over the pitch. It was a perfect evening for polo, and Lexa felt it, still riding the high of her win and feeling the limitless possibility of the next few months. 

It didn’t hurt that she caught a certain girl’s eyes before it started and put on a show. No, Lexa didn’t think about that at all. 

There was absolutely no way she had a chance with someone like Clarke, prize purse be damned. Lexa was the person who got a taste-- who was used for the pleasure of someone who had other responsibilities. In all of her dealings with people like Kane, with people like Clarke, she knew she was an interloper; destined to be a tagalong, someone who was never quite part of their world. Those were the things that she thought about after that momentary rush of seeing Clarke-- an intense loss at never having her completely. 

She didn’t look for Clarke in the tent with the other donors because she could feel her. It would take her a moment to get back to being okay with being a plaything. It had its perks, and it wasn’t the worst thing in the world, to be someone who only got a taste when that taste was delicious. Lexa was okay with the being just a fling, if only her heart would listen and not get in over its head. 

“You, in that dress,” Lexa whispered as she approached a bare back, the navy blue of the dress, dipping along spine, hanging on shoulders. “Has all of my attention.” 

“Are you sure?” 

Lexa half-smiled and grabbed a flute of champagne, handing it to the woman beside her before taking one for herself. Only then did she allow herself to look at Clarke, meeting blue eyes and lips she desperately wanted to kiss already, after exactly one second of being within her orbit. 

“It’s becoming a problem, princess. You look too distracting in everything.” 

“Maybe you should stop looking?” 

“Would you like me to stop?” 

With her words, Lexa shifted closer, and Clarke felt it. Their bodies moved around, hovering and refusing to touch though desperately wanting to feel the next. Clarke licked her lips and looked up from beneath her lashes while Lexa looked over her cheekbones as she took a sip and played with the stem of her glass. 

“It’s been three weeks. You didn’t try to find me?” 

“I’ve been busy training,” Lexa tried, unsure of if she was supposed to find Clarke. She never knew it was an option. “And I didn’t… Three weeks, and were you preparing for a Gauntlet?” 

“You were the one that was trying to convince me to fall in love with you.” 

“Or lust.” 

“Right, or lust,” Clarke nodded. “I couldn’t find you. That’d just prove you right.” 

“And we wouldn’t want me to be right, would we?” 

Despite herself, Clarke smiled, small and there. She blushed a little, right beneath her jaw, near her earlobes. Lexa gorged herself on it. 

“If you’re right, you get all of the power. I can’t give you that.” 

“But it would be great if you did. I promise to be a benevolent overlord.” 

“What if I don’t know how to be kept?” Clarke asked after a moment of quiet. It was the most honest thing she’d said in their time together. 

Lexa reached forward to touch her, finally. She ran her finger along her forearm, and she paused at Clarke’s wrist, running her thumb along the small protrusion there. She watched her fingers move against Clarke’s skin. 

“I’m good at being still. I’ve broken more wild things than you, princess.” 

As she stood there, Clarke felt Lexa’s warmth, and she wondered to which level they were speaking, because almost accidentally, she’d confessed one of her truly darkest fears, that she wasn’t one to be in love, that she didn’t know how, that she wasn’t sure she was worth being looked at like Lexa looked at her, whether it be love or lust of something between. 

“I completely mean to interrupt whatever is happening over here,” a voice rang out, oddly cheerful and not at all in line with the tone established. 

Lexa retracted her hand quickly, finishing the rest of her champagne as a result of compensating for the movement. Clarke stood up, her body language becoming alert and afraid. There was the shame, Lexa saw and pretended to ignore, of being caught with someone like her. 

“Hell of a game you played out there, Lexa,” the new woman explained as she grabbed them another round of drinks from a passing tray. 

The crowd cheered for whatever was happening on the pitch, and Lexa looked toward it in hopes of finding a reason to escape, the trance of Clarke Griffin broken for a moment. 

“And I heard all about how amazing your play was from Kane. Clarke couldn’t keep her eyes off of you, and I have to say, I get it now.” 

Lexa found her interest turning back to this shorter, nonplussed member of their group, her interest piqued as she recognized a fellow interloper, although someone who seemed to own it much better and in a way she almost envied. 

“I wasn’t--” Clarke began before taking a breath, earning a grin from her friend. “Lexa, this is Raven, my best friend dating back from elementary school, so please don’t hold it against me.” 

“I couldn’t. She seems to have such great taste if polo players,” Lexa grinned, extending her hand. “Lexa Woods. It’s a pleasure to meet you--”

“Raven,” she offered, shaking it heartily. “I’ve heard many things.” 

“All good, I hope.” 

“Mythical, some might say.” 

Clarke coughed and cleared her throat until her friend returned the hand it’d been shaking and went back to sipping her champagne. Lexa felt her chest puff a bit, and she couldn’t help it. 

“I should go make the rounds,” she finally offered as the two ancient friends glared at each other, having an entire conversation. “I’m sure Kane has some constructive criticism, and plans for the next matches. I hope I see you both around, and thank you for coming to support us.” 

“It was nice to see you again,” Clarke offered with a slight nod. 

Brazenly, Lexa leaned forward, placed her hand on the small of Clarke’s back so that her thumb could touch the bare skin of her spine. She kissed her cheek. 

“I hope you choose to find me, princess,” she whispered. “I love wild things as they are.” 

Lexa pulled away quickly and shook Raven’s hand again. 

“It was nice to meet you, Raven. I hope Kane didn’t bore you terribly.” 

“Not at all,” she returned. “I hope to come to more, if Clarke will invite me.” 

But Clarke didn’t answer, just stared at Lexa until she nodded and walked away, fading into the crowd in search of her benefactor. 

“Holy shit she’s hot up close,” Raven finally offered after a moment where Clarke downed her champagne. “Like. Insanely hot. Superhuman hot. And when she did that thing, that being so close to you but not touching you thing. Damn. And then, I think she practically was undressing you with her eyes when I walked up. I’ve never seen eyeballs look like murder, but hers were coming for me.” 

“You see what  mean, right?” 

“Yeah, you have a problem there,” her friend agreed as Clarke finally took a breath and nodded weakly. “I’d have to go for it.” 

“Yes. Without a doubt.” 

XXXXXXXXXX

Even though there was an entire week of matches for the tournament, Lexa still waited for a girl to appear, to make the move, to find her. She knew that it had to be Clarke who appeared, who made the move because she was the one who was most afraid. It was supposed to be a joke, but Lexa knew it was the most honest thing about her to admit that she was already in love with the stranger. 

She knew nothing about Clarke, not really, and yet she felt like she understood her on a cosmic level, an inherent kind of language they both spoke, that defied time. Lexa craved that poetry, and perhaps it was the works of the great romantics that she kept reading and clouding her brain with such notions, but she couldn’t help it. It seeped into her very DNA. 

The week led to the first win out of three for the Gauntlet, and Lexa hoisted the cup valiantly, happy that she was worth her weight in gold, as Kane liked to explain. And after all of it, after they made the trip home, and she made sure the stables were taken care of and schedule made for the following day, Lexa sat on the porch to her small home about five miles from the horses, and she opened a bottle of beer. 

The night was colder than the day, giving off the heat and letting the warmth disappear with the sun, but it was a clear night, the moon bright above, casting moonbeam shadows in the tall grasses and from the fence posts. She could have lived in the city, gotten a place an enjoyed the splendor of her generous paychecks, but Lexa had a need to be near her ponies and to be close to the games. She wouldn’t commute if she didn’t have to, and she wouldn’t allow herself any distractions. 

And then headlights appeared in her driveway, following the gravel up toward the converted cabin. 

She stood and tapped her beer against her thigh as she leaned against the railing, squinting into the light in hopes of figuring out who was going to bug her after a rather long week and an impressive win. 

She wasn’t in a dress. She was in an old jacket and jeans as she shoved her hands in the back pockets and made her way around the car once it turned off. It really was becoming a problem, because every time Lexa saw her, she was distracted. She really didn’t think about the car and how many questions she had about the absolutely devastating piece of machinery. 

Instead, she took another sip and smiled. 

“Congratulations,” Clarke offered. 

“Did you watch?” 

“I didn’t, but I heard.” 

“Good news travels fast.” 

Despite her initial burst of courage, Clarke paused near the stairs, looking up at the polo player, the lights from the glowing windows giving her a little bit of color. Lexa didn’t move to fix the height gap between them, instead, waiting for Clarke to make the moves. It was her porch, but it was Clarke’s rules, and she wasn’t sure she’d trained wilder things than Clarke Griffin, but she was a tamer of beasts. 

“I found you,” Clarke offered, as she took a step. 

“You did. I’m not hard to find though.” 

“I think we should applaud the effort,” Clarke grinned, stepping up another until she was just one below. “I was impressed with your win. You must be happy.” 

“I’m honestly happier that you’re here right now than the trophy.” 

“Are you going to show me your home?” 

“I don’t want to move,” Lexa offered as Clarke stood in front of her now. “I’m afraid you’ll bolt the moment I do.” 

“I showed up. I made the move,” Clarke sighed, looking at her lips. “You have to teach me the rest.” 

“Three conversations for you to fall in love with me,” she grinned, closing the distance and moving so she was touching Clarke, pressed against her front. “I can work with that.” 

“Lust.” 

“For now.”

NEXT

[lifeofresulullah]

The Life of The Prophet Muhammad(pbuh): Before His Birth, His Birth and His Childhood

The Prophet is Given to a Foster Mother

The universe, which rejoined its master was joyful. The heart of the Arabia, which harbored the person that would provide the heart of the humanity with light and peace, was very excited.

Makkah, in which the unmatched event of the universe took place, was so excited and joyful that it was as if it wanted to fly to the lofty realms.

Hazrat Amina was peaceful and jubilant. It was as if the sweet smiles of her lovely child were helping her to forget a tinge of the intense pain that she felt over her husband’s death. Her child was her only consolation that secured her hope for the future.

The fortunate Amina could only suckle her glorious child for week. After this, Abu Lahab’s handmaiden, Lady Suwayba became the wet nurse of the Master of the Universe and suckled him for days. 

Before that, Lady Suwayba had nourished Hazrat Hamza. In this way, she had attained the fortune and honor of being the means in joining the Holy Prophet (PBUH) and his esteemed uncle as foster brothers.

The Master of the Universe (PBUH), who possessed such virtue and feelings of faithfulness, never forgot the smallest favors that people did for him, nor did he leave them unrequited. Throughout his entire life, he never forgot Lady Suwayba who nourished him for a period of time. He would frequently visit her and would always show her kindness, respect, and pay her compliments.

Yes, faithfulness was the foundation of good manners that the Holy Prophet (PBUH) brought to the face of the Earth. The smallest trace of ingratitude cannot be found in the immaculate and upright life of   our Beloved Messenger (PBUH).

At one point in time, Hazrat Khadija, who had taken lessons from the Holy Prophet’s (PBUH) virtue and gratitude, wanted to purchase Lady Suwayba, who would frequently visit Hazrat Khadija’s home, for the purpose of setting her free; however, Abu Lahab did not lend himself to this idea. It was not until after the Holy Prophet’s (PBUH) migration to Medina that Abu Lahab freed Lady Suwayba on his own. 

Abu Lahab was our Holy Prophet ‘s (PBUH) own paternal uncle. Afterwards he did not testify and admit to the Holy Prophet’s (PBUH) Prophethood; he did not forsake being a pagan and did not refrain from his attempts in being our Holy Prophet’s (PBUH) biggest enemy, either. For this reason, he incurred the wrath of Allah and did not earn a value that is equivalent to the nail of his slave, Lady Suwayba. In fact, it has been explained that because of Lady Suwayba, Abu Lahab has obtained a driblet of grace in the afterlife.

After his death, he was seen in a dream where he was found screaming in the severe punishment of hell. They asked him: “Why are you screaming? What is the matter?”

He answered: “What else could be the matter? The absence of water is making me burn! I never saw any good in my life, yet I did find one fortune: Because I set the woman, who nourished Muhammad, free, I have been spared the opportunity to absorb water and be watered” and as he said this, he showed his index finger (the finger that testifies faith). 

This incident is certainly a case in point. A ferocious enemy of Islam, like Abu Lahab, who did not refrain from oppressing, torturing, and insulting the Master of the Universe throughout his entire life, was the recipient of such beneficence and grace and a tinge of his punishment in hell was alleviated. This means that goodness done not only upon our Beloved Messenger PBUH, but also upon those who have served him, is also not left unrequited by God Almighty’s grace and beneficence.

In addition, one should think of the greatness in gifts, favors, and Divine endowments of the eternal realm that are awaiting those who have made the Master of the Universe (PBUH) their absolute imam and guide in every matter and the true believers who have felt honored to uphold his Sunnah on the Earth .

The Custom of Giving Babies to Wet Nurses

Mecca’s weather was hot and muggy. It did was not good for the children’s delicate nature and was not a favorable condition for a healthy upbringing. In the desert, the weather was nice, the water was sweet and clean, life was easy, and the climate was mild. Besides, some of the tribes that lived in the desert had a language and diction that was smooth and sharp. They maintained their nobility and practiced good conduct.

Based on this, the Qurayshi gentry and leading figures practiced the custom of handing their children over to the tribal women in the desert to be breastfed for a cost, so that their children could grow and be brought up under healthier conditions and to learn and speak a dialect of Arabic that was appropriate in its essential form. The child would remain with his/her wet nurse for 2-3 years, and sometimes even more.

For this reason, many tribes that lived in the uplands/prairies, Sa’d bin Bakr’s tribe in particular, would have a caravan of women go to Mecca a few times a year in which the women would take the newly-born infants with them to their homeland for the purpose of nourishment.

Among the tribes in the vicinity of Mecca, Sa’d bin Bakr’s tribe was the one that had acquired fame since it was distinguished for its honor, generosity, chivalry, humility, and speaking Arabic properly. For this reason, the leading figures of Quraysh mostly wanted to hand the custody of their children over to the women of this tribe.

The Arrival of the Women from Bani Bakr’s Tribe to Mecca

The Holy Prophet (PBUH) was being nourished by Lady Suwayba.

At that time, a strong drought was prevalent in the homeland of Sad’s sons although such a strong drought had not occurred till then. The drought resulted in a famine that left the tribal community poor and miserable. It was so bad that they had difficulty finding something to eat. Their camels and sheep had weakened and their milk had ceased.

During this year of intense famine and drought, the tribeswomen of the Bani Bakr had gone to Mecca in a crowded procession with the intention of finding a child to nourish and of obtaining a portion of their livelihood.

All of the women, with the exception of one extraordinary lady, had chosen a child who was appropriate for them. Strangely enough, none of them chose nor approached our Beloved Messenger (PBUH) because they thought they would not be able to obtain much money and help since he was an orphan.

There was only one woman who arrived late in Mecca. She was distinguished among her tribe for her decency, cleanliness, gentleness, and modesty. Due to their old and frail donkey, Halima and her husband had fallen behind the rest of the procession. When they entered Mecca, all of the newly-born Qurayshi children, with the exception of one very extraordinary infant, had been chosen by the women of the Bani Bakr tribe that were in the forefront.  With the fate and wisdom of the Possessor of the Absolute Power, Halima could not find anyone in need of nourishment.

Her husband, Harith, was sad, too. All of their friends shared the children of the wealthy families among themselves. She was the only one who was left empty-handed and it was only because she arrived late.

This virtuous woman, who now had a pale and sad countenance and was unaware of the plan that Divine fate had drawn for her, wandered the streets of Mecca with despair and the distress of not being able to find an appropriate fitting child.

Incidentally, she encountered an old man with a friendly face and who, through his presence, summoned the respect of his surroundings. This individual was Abdulmuttalib, the grandfather of the Master of the Universe (PBUH). They looked each other as if they had been looking to become the relief for their troubles. Then they began to engage in conversation:

Abdulmuttalib asked, “Where are you from?”

Halima: “I am a woman from the Bani Sa’d Tribe” (Sons of Fortune/Luck)

Abdulmuttalib: “What is your name?”

She answered, “Halima”.

Abdulmuttalib: “How wonderful! How wonderful!  Fortune and gentleness are two traits that carry the beneficence of this world and the honor and glory of the afterlife” After he said this, Abdulmuttalib took a deep breath and followed with: "Oh, Halima! I have an orphaned child next to me. I offered him to the women of the Sons of Sa’d but they did not accept him. Come and be the wet nurse of this child. Maybe you will attain prosperity, wealth, and fortune for taking care of him”.

At first, Halima became hesitant upon hearing this unexpected offer. However, she did not want to return to her homeland empty-handed. For this reason, she overcame her hesitation and accepted the offer from within. Nevertheless, she did not want to disclose her answer without first asking and receiving permission from her husband. She immediately returned to her husband and after she explained everything to him she said, “I was unable to find a child to nourish. I do not favor going back empty-handed among my friends. By God, I am going to take that orphan”.

Her husband, Harith, supported her view and said, “There is no harm in taking him. Perhaps Allah will endow us with prosperity and blessings thanks to him”. 

Upon this, they returned to Abdulmuttalib.

Abdulmuttalib took Halima to Hazrat Amina’s modest home which the Beloved Prophet (PBUH) illuminated.

Halima went to our Holy Prophet’s (PBUH) bedside. Our lovely Master (PBUH) was wrapped in a white fabric made from wool and was sleeping soundly on a blanket of green yarn. The surrounding smelled like musk!

Halima was in a state of amazement. She immediately warmed up to this child so much that she could not bear to wake him up!

The cloud of gloom and anguish had left Halima. She was so happy that it was as if she was walking on air. It was such a great bliss to have suddenly come across an infant of excessive beauty after squirming in the distress of not being able to find a child.

Halima could not resist anymore. She neared the Master of the Universe’s (PBUH) bedside very closely and slightly lifted the corner of his blanket. With a mother’s love and compassion, she kissed his forehead and hands that smelled like roses and that were softer than cotton and as white as snow.

At that moment, our Holy Prophet (PBUH) opened his eyes and replied to Halima’s kisses with a sweet smile. They got along with one another.

While one of them was in despair because of not being able to find a child, worn out, and downhearted, the other was a radiant orphan who had been rejected by the women. Fate had filled both of their worlds with happiness.

[keepswingin]

i want your heart to beat for me

She’s twenty-four and sings for Caleb Covington during the week, microphone clutched tightly in between her sweaty palms as she stands before an audience that’s paid to hear a beautiful voice she doesn’t want to provide.

They all wear leers, and some flash yellow teeth and tattered bills in disgusting taunts, but she does her best to ignore it all and just sing like she’s always wanted to.

(She never imagined it would be like this.)

Her voice is shaky tonight, strained in all the wrong places from singing three songs a night five times a week, and her heart is beating fast, torn between anger at the men who look at her like she’s a piece of meat on display and anxiety at disappointing Caleb for not bringing in the money he needs. Her voice is the biggest seller at his club, she knows it is, and she doesn’t want to know what happens to those who don’t sell well at all.

(She had been a hit from the moment she had walked on stage, dressed in a pretty purple dress she had pulled from her mom’s old chest, her hair curled to one side, a small butterfly pin - her good luck charm - clipped to the corner of her sleeve. Caleb had been watching from the front row, a buffet of every food you could imagine spread out on the table before him but his eyes were instead locked steadily on her, watching and waiting. 

The crowd had cheered wildly as soon as they had seen her, and she had been embrassed by the attention back then, blushling under the spotlights. Then she had met Caleb’s eyes, and he had nodded her on with a crooked smile, and she had opened her mouth and sang the best she ever had in her life.)

Tonight was different. 

She was exhuasted, and her voice was cracking on the high notes, and she barely had the energy to hold a microphone and sing, let alone jump around the stage and try and hype up the audience like she was supposed to. 

She can’t find Caleb in the crowd, and her heart jumps with joy at the thought of him not being here. Maybe she could throw tonight’s set and get away with it. Maybe she could request the rest of the week off through Willie and avoid having to talk to him at all. 

(When she had first arrived at the club, she wondered why someone as kind as Willie was working there among men and women who were so opposite to him. 

As the weeks dragged into months, she had grown closer to Willie, and realized that he was trapped there in the same way she was.)

She finishes Finally Free - irony not lost on her considering she hasn’t been free since the day she had put her life on the line for her brother - and her heart aches at the thought of him, and a faraway part of her wonders how he’s doing. She hasn’t seen him since--

“Brava, brava!” 

Caleb walks on stage, clapping his hands loudly, even though the men tonight had ceased their clapping early so that they could reach for their drinks, and Julie’s entire body tenses as the older man moves to stand next to her, his arm brushing against hers as his hand slides down to grab hers. 

Red hot fear catches in her throat as she waits for his gaze to turn to her, but instead he avoids looking at her and keeps his eyes on the audience, gauging their reaction. Some are still looking toward the stage while others have moved onto their entrees, forks dipping into fettuccine and lagansa - tonight’s special. His grip on her hand tightens, and she holds back a cry. 

He’s not happy.

She knows he isn’t happy, which means this could be the end of her tonight, because if Caleb wasn’t happy then the club wasn’t happy and if the club wasn’t happy then how would money continue to flow and if there was no money then she couldn’t pay back her brother’s debt and--

“I’m glad you all enjoyed tonight’s show,” he calls, catching the audience's attention once again. “Enjoy your meals, and if any of you would like to spare the cash for a one of a kind encore, please feel free to form a line at the stairs. Thank you!” 

He lifts the hand that holds her own high in some sort of praise, and there’s a roar of applause, and men who tumble out of their seats at the thought of Caleb’s type of ‘encore’ and Julie feels sick. 

Encores were for the acts that failed, last minute attempts for Caleb to earn some money out of a moneyless night, and if he was offering her up then that means she failed and if she failed then - then--

She doesn’t fight Caleb as he pulls her backstage, the velvet curtains closing behind them with a sense of finality. The thought of it makes her insides churn and her head pound, and another wave of nausea floods her as Caleb corners her against the wall a second later, slamming her back into solid brick.

“For someone so keen to pay off her brother’s debt, you aren’t taking your job as seriously as you should, Julie.” 

His words are as threatening as the hand he uses to keep her arms pinned above her head, his other hand pressed into a white-knucked fist at his side. His face is twisted into an angry sneer, and though threatening, his words are as calm as they always are, and that alone is enough to send chills racing up her spine.

Pain radiates from the center of her back, and panic closes around her throat, making it hard for her to breathe. She struggles for words. “I-I am, Caleb, I swear, my voice - I’m just starting to lose my voice from singing so much, and I didn’t want you to - to be disappointed if I asked for some time off and, and I-I tried my best tonight, I--”

He silences her with a look, her mouth snapping shut. And God, she hates this, hates him more than she’s ever hated anybody in her life, because she hates how much power he has over her, and contuines to hold over her, because she’s in this deep and there doesn’t seem to be any way back out. 

“You really think,” he starts, slow and deliberate, “that I’m going to belive that?” 

Before she can speak he’s squeezing her wrists hard enough that it hurts, and she bites her lip as he moves closer to her face, his eyes dark with an anger she only sees when he’s talking about his failed acts. 

“You will sing until you lose your voice, and every performance until then will be up to par, or you will never see your brother ever again. Is that understood?” 

She hates this. She hates this, she hates this, she hates this, she--

“Yes.” She says, as firmly as she can.

Caleb doesn’t smile or nod or play his violence off like it’s nothing. Instead he realeases her and takes a step back, straightening his collar. His eyes are still dark as he stares at her, and it makes her fingers shake. 

“You failed me tonight, Julie, and I’m sorry to do this to you, especially considering you are my best act in this entire place, but you will be doing as many encores as they pay for tonight and that’s--”

“I’ll take ‘em.” 

Julie startles at the familiar voice, looking over and seeing no other than Luke Patterson standing by the exit door, guitar strap slung over one shoulder. 

Caleb audibly scoffs in disbelief. “You’re going to take all her clients tonight?” 

Luke’s eyes flick from Julie’s to Caleb’s before he nods and makes his way over to them, his hand tight around the neck of his guitar. “Yeah. You’re cool with it, aren’t you?” 

Caleb sighs, obivously torn. 

Julie stares, shocked, at Luke. She doesn’t know much about him, and hasn’t interacted with him at all nearly the entire time she’s been at the club, besides a head nod if they passed each other on stage. All she knows about him is infromation from Willie and that’s that Luke has been at the club longer than he has, longer than anyone else at the club, and no one knows why. He’s also the only one who Caleb has - if you could call them at - civil conversations with. 

He doesn’t bring in as much money as he used to, but he was a good buffer to newer acts like Julie, and whatever Caleb had to keep him there with everyone else...it had to be big, for him to be stuck there for so long. 

“Of course I’m cool with it.” Caleb finally says, slapping Luke on the shoulder with a broad grin. He leans in to whisper in his ear, but Julie overhears what he says anyway. “They’ll pay more for you anyway.” 

He pulls back with a laugh, followed by an easy smile from Luke, but if Julie looks close enough, she can tell it’s fake, can see the strained edges and jagged peices. 

Caleb turns back to her, his eyes no longer as carefree as they were a second before. “You’re free to go tonight. Rest up that voice now, Julie. I expect an amazing performance two days from now.” He smiles, wide and grand, before disappearing through the curtains with the announcement of Luke Patterson’s encore offer for later tonight. 

Julie stands there, rubbing her wrists, unsure what to say to Luke. Should she thank him from saving her from something she knew she’d never be able to come back from? Apologize for allowing him to give himself up instead?

“You don’t have to say anything,” he supplies, as if he’s reading her mind. She looks up and catches his honest eyes, a different smile covering his lips now. It looks...almost happy. 

Happy to be talking to her? 

No, no. She shakes that thought from her mind. 

“I’m, I’m sorry,” she grapples for other words, “you didn’t have to do that. For me.”

He readjusts, allowing his guitar to lean against his hip. His hair is short and half-hidden under a grey beaine, he’s wearing a white tank-top that’s obviously seen better days, and weathered jeans. The strap his guitar clings to is decorated with names written in black sharpie. She’s able to read a few - Reggie, Alex, Bobby, Emily, Mitch, TJ, Tim - and he catches her staring, chuckling quietly.

“I uh, before this, I’d have people sign my guitar at my first shows. Got filled up pretty fast. Guess you could say I was a sort of teen sensation?” She can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of her, and he laughs softly with her, watching the way her fingers fumble over one another. His heart falls, just a little bit. “I’m sorry. About Caleb.” 

“It’s not your fault.” She dismisses, her hands falling to her sides. 

She swears she can still see the man’s eyes in the shadows behind the speakers and old lights. Silence surrounds them for a moment, but then the crowd roars, and Caleb announces Luke’s name again, and he sighs, gesturing with his head toward the curtains. 

“Guess it’s time for my gig.” He says wryly, and she nods and moves out of the way so he can walk past her. Her eyes catch on red marks across his skin as he passes, hidden poorly behind his tank-top, and her stomach rolls.

“Wait!” she calls just before his hands touch the curtain. She turns around and walks over to him, grabbing his hand in hers. “Thank you. For saving me from...from that.”

She can feel the callouses on his fingers from picking at a guitar, and the scars that decorate his palm from his time spent in the club. He’s far too young to have scars, she thinks, but then Luke is smiling wide, and the corner of his eyes are crinkling, and Julie’s heart is soaring for some reason at the way he looks at her then.

“Anytime Molina,” he whipers, and then he’s disappearing through the curtain, and for some reason, she misses the feel of his hand in hers as soon as he’s gone. 

[vmheadquarters]

We’re still playing our game of written hot potato! Dozens of your favorite authors are taking turns to tell a Veronica Mars mystery story. Each writer crafts their chapter and then “tosses” the story to the next person to continue the tale. No one knows what will happen, so expect the unexpected!

Follow the “vmhq presents” and “murder we wrote” tags for all the installments, or read the story as it develops on AO3. --Chapter Twenty-One of MURDER, WE WROTE is written by @DRiver2u. And stayed tuned next week for Ch.22 from @amypc1​ - tag, you’re it!

—————————————————————————————————— CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE by @DRiver2u

The noise in the room was a low pulse of small groups talking among themselves. The conversations were not enthusiastic or lighthearted, but the former classmates were speaking just to have something to do. Whenever the din let up, someone new took over with a tale from the exploits of high school past. No one wanted to admit that, now they had eaten, there was time to start exploring the mansion for a murderer.

Hovering off to the side, as she so often did in social situations, Veronica's thoughts were exploding as quickly as she felt her ankle swelling. Her injury didn't hurt as much as she thought it should, and she wondered if she was in shock, rather than having an actual physical ailment. She plotted about how to move to another part of the house, so she could test the theories running through her brain. The crowded space in her mind needed an escape, and if she was being honest with herself, it wasn't the only part of her that needed a release.

She caught Logan's eye as he looked up from the drone of Casey's story, and she gave a quick tip of her head towards the direction of the kitchen. "Meet me there," she mouthed from across the room as she pointed with her pinky finger. She assessed her wonky situation and dropped her elevated foot, rolled to her stomach, and one-legged-downward-facing-dog walked herself to a standing position. For a moment, she steadied herself, using one flat foot and the tips of her toes on the other before trying her balance. She hobbled on her bad ankle and made a comment under her breath, just loud enough for the scrum of former classmates in the middle of the room to hear her complain.

"You rang," Logan quipped, as he turned to see her push through the kitchen door. "Or muttered, I guess would be more accurate." He watched as she moved from limping to balancing herself on the kitchen counter, and then doing a half-twisting boost onto the island. The gymnastics of the moves were worthy of more than a participation certificate. Logan studied her as she forced out a sigh and regained her composure. His mind filled with other uses for those skills. "Your powers never cease to amaze."

"I need some ice for my ankle, but I've been thinking, and I might want to reconsider something," Veronica cooed as her finger made its way between her teeth. Before Logan could head towards the freezer, she commanded, "Come closer."

Logan advanced and slid between her dangling legs. Veronica's citrus shampoo, the acid from the tomato ragu, and the yeast from a green bottle of Heineken left near the Belfast sink sent mixed signals to his brain. This wasn't the time or the place, what with the dead bodies, secret passages, and unknown assailants only a few feet from what he hoped would be their suction-cupped bodies, but he couldn't stop the fantasies entering his brain. Veronica stared into his eyes, hoping he would be able to read her mind. The drip of the faucet and the hiss of the radiator under the stained glass windows broke their silence.

As Logan leaned in to kiss the blonde in front of him, he felt the cool thickness of the marble countertop as it hit him just below his waistband. His mouth hovered near her lips, but he turned his head and teased her with the breeze that swept by her mouth. She grabbed the back of his neck demanding to be closer to him, to touch his sweetness. He was stronger than her, and pulled back, watching as her eyes slid shut. As his hands wrapped around her waist and his thumbs pushed into her hips, she let out a small whimper and her breathing quickened.

It was the panting and the moaning that made him pull her closer. He wanted this, she wanted this, but they had made a deal to slow things down this time. He could wait. Could he wait? Anticipation was a hell of an aphrodisiac.

When he finally kissed her, would she taste like roasted garlic, red wine, dried Parmesan cheese, or chocolate mousse? Whatever was left of their dinner would be lost as his mind cleared of all but the softness of her lips. Logan gazed into Veronica's eyes before kissing her wordlessly. Only seconds later, Veronica released her hands from his hair and scrambled to tug his thermal base layer from the waist of his trousers and ran her hands towards his brawny chest, feeling multiple indentations as her fingers spread.

"We need to reconsider that we may have only two days left to live, so three dates seems too long to wait to get naked," she said, at a much higher volume than Logan found desirable. He tilted his head as he tried to shake the noise and vibration out of his eardrum.

"I think you're out of practice on the whispering of sweet nothings," Logan grumbled. "The key to that phrase being 'whispering', sugarpuss."

Veronica reached up and took his face in her hands, then bent the side of his head towards her mouth. "We're being watched, right?" Logan nodded his head and wondered if this new taste for voyeurism would be part of their future escapades. He swallowed at the thought and caught himself breathing harder than only a few seconds ago. Veronica continued her train of thought in his ear. "Let's find out if this is really about us. They're watching, so if they see us, uh you know, all hot and heavy, they may try to break in and stop it."

Logan dropped his head, realizing this was nothing more than part of the game, part of her desire to solve this riddle. "I don't know if I feel like a mark, the bait, or a damsel in distress." He swallowed and took a deep breath.

Veronica kissed him softly and met his eyes. She didn't need words to explain to him that her brain was working overtime. It wasn't desire he had seen in her eyes when they started this rendezvous. But it was passion--just not the kind of passion he was hoping to experience.

"Enid Curtis," Veronica whispered again and gave him a mischievous smile before returning to his ear. "How many people do you know who are named Enid? Not one, I bet. Enid Curtis and Mason. Flip them letters around and what'd ya get? DIES UNROMANTICS." She gave him a quick kiss at his temple, but she wanted to give him a high five.

Logan chuckled before bending his head and raising his eyes to meet hers. "A bit of a grammar cock up, wouldn't you say?" He paused and tilted his head until his mouth met her ear, his hands continued to meander under her shirt. "If you're going to slip down the Enid path, it seems impossible not to bring up Tennyson. You should know to leave the English stuff to me."

Veronica inched away from him and stared at Logan. "So, you think there's a book on one of the shelves by Alfred, Lord Tennyson that'll help solve this riddle?" she asked in a low voice.

"Well, I'm more of a Keats guy myself, but it's tough not to respect a guy who came up with the lines, and I'm paraphrasing here, 'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all' and 'Theirs is not to reason why. Theirs is but to do and die'." Logan turned the words over in his mind. Loss and death weren't nearly as appealing to him as Keats' haunting words about beauty, joy, love, and truth.

"Yeah, it's the 'do and die' part that makes me a bit worried," Veronica chided. "And what's that got to do with Enid?"

"I'm saying that Tennyson wrote Idylls of the King. In it is a poem about the perfect love Enid has for her husband." Veronica stared blankly at him before he continued. "He gets jealous, but she stays faithful. He thinks she cheated, but she stays faithful. He treats her like dirt, but she stays faithful. Seeing a pattern?"

"So Enid is perfect?" Veronica asked with a sly smile.

"It used to be a real compliment for a woman to be referred to as an 'Enid'," Logan remembered from a group project about Victorian poets. Who knew those trivialities might one day prove to be important?

Logan continued after a small pause, clearing his throat. "Oh, and Tennyson influenced the Pre-Raphaelite artists with his sumptuous verses. God, they painted some majestic stuff. Dead women, lots of flowing hair, unrequited love. Come to think of it, one was even of Enid, I think." He smiled at the idea of his mother and said, "First ones I saw were at Andrew Lloyd Webber's estate, because my mom dragged me there when she was desperate to get a part in a possible West End Cats revival."

"Keats, Tennyson, and Raffi," Veronica scrambled, only half listening to the other voice in the room. "I don't see the connection. Unless someone thinks I'm the perfect mate?" Veronica's mind danced with the knowledge that she may have an admirer rather than a stalker. She heard Logan snicker and watched as he shook his head.

"Raphaelites, bobcat, but who am I to doubt the perfect bit," he mocked with a chuckle. "Maybe Enid and Tennyson mean nothing. Maybe you were on the right track with the scrambled letters. Or maybe this mysterious host is telling you to ask others for help with this riddle. 'There's no I in team', 'It takes teamwork to make the dream work', 'Collaborate before we evaporate'. Etcetera, etcetera."

Veronica squinted at him, but only grunted out a, "Huh?"

"OK, maybe I made some of those up," Logan laughed. "But we're all here for a reason, and I don't think it's just to be dead bodies, cute faces, or red herrings." They both stayed quiet a moment and realized their musings had blown their cover. Their so-called tryst had turned into a book club.

"Ice," Veronica directed, and Logan grabbed the hand towel near the stove as he sauntered towards the industrial-sized refrigerator. "But now what?"

"Lead on, perfect Enid," he quipped. He took a deep breath as he felt Veronica going back into her brain. "OK. If you want to stick with rearranging letters, we can do that, but I prefer NUDES IS ROMANTIC."

[highqueenofelfhame]

Birthday.

I need you like cake on my birthday. 

AARON

My eyes are fixed on her tongue, following the way it traces the perfection that are her lips. It makes me lick my own, and heat floods through me when her lips start to turn up into a slow smile. Her smile. Everything about her is perfect, the long glossy waves of her hair falling over her shoulder in what feels like slow motion. It’s impossible for me to keep my hands to myself so I reach out and twist a lock around my finger. The sweet vanilla and floral scent from whichever of my soaps and shampoos she used this morning swim through my senses, intoxicating me more than whatever she’s already had to drink. 

I let me fingers graze her jaw and she gasps, lips parting only just as her eyes flutter closed. It would be a lie, a falsity to pretend I have any self control when her body reacts to me like this. It sends the most visceral pulses through my body, consumes me wholly and I don’t even try to hold back the shiver that thunders through my body. 

“Aaron,” she whispers, leaning forward to press her lips to mine. She tastes like whiskey — all hot and burning and flame. “Will you try it with me?” She asks, and I know she means the whiskey. I pull back to look at her, at the lazy smile that she can’t seem to wipe off her lips. Drunk Juliette is nothing like my drunk father. 

Where it seemed to fuel his rage and anger, it just makes Juliette light and free. She becomes even softer somehow, silly even. So care free and I can’t help but think this is how she should feel sober. 

In truth, I’m fearful of what alcohol would do to me. If it would elicit the rage and anger my father displayed or if I would get lazy and happy like Juliette or become something else entirely. 

“For my birthday,” she tacks on, implying that all she wants for her birthday is for me to down some of the golden amber fire and relax. I lick my lips again and kiss her, tangling my tongue with hers and familiarizing myself with the taste that has coated her tongue.

“Just this once,” I tell her, knowing that if I truly didn’t want to and said no that she would understand and not push me. She seems so happy that I say yes, though, that she takes a swig directly from the bottle before holding it out to me. She looks so proud, so excited, and I shake my head a single time before taking what was probably too much. 

My brows knit together as I focus on the fire coating my throat, the warmth that spreads to my fingertips. Not at all what I expected, so after a pause I take another drink. And then another. She pulls the bottle from my hands and climbs onto my lap, legs straddling my waist. 

My hands wander up her thighs, brushing the soft soft skin that is exposed thanks to the light dress she wears. I’m not sure how long we sit like that, my hands inching higher and higher up her body and underneath her dress, her lithe fingers undoing each button down my chest until she can push my shirt open. 

“Beautiful,” she whispers, pressing a kiss to my neck. Warmth blooms throughout my body, from my head to my toes, and suddenly I realize why people drink alcohol for leisure. It feels amazing, though not as amazing as Juliette’s thighs pressed against my own, not as amazing as her hands running over my body. The flame in my veins is nothing to the flame that erupted over my skin where she touches. Her touch is a match thrown into a trail of gasoline and when she flicks her power back on and I feel my body absorb her energy the gasp that comes out of my body is completely involuntary. I’m truly intoxicated by the young woman seated upon my lap, the sensation almost too much for my body to handle and I need to have her I need more I need to touch her everywhere I possibly can. 

I flip her onto her back and gentle myself on top of her, my lips crashing down into hers. When she moans into my mouth I lose all thought, the sound fueling the urgency with which my mouth is moving against hers. 

“You’re going to kill me, love,” I mumble against her mouth. “You absolutely ruin me.” 

JULIETTE

I could live a hundred thousand million lives and never tire of this, of Aaron pressed against me, his skin touching touching touching me everywhere he can reach. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes, every letter branded on my skin. I’m more drunk off him than the whiskey, the sound of his voice so rough and raw and full of wanting getting me higher than any drug could ever manage. 

He pulls away from me suddenly and I frown at the loss of his mouth on my skin, the loss of the pressure of his weight so warm and solid and reassuring. Aaron lets out a long sigh and flops onto his back, his shirt falling to his sides and completely exposing his perfectly flawless body. I frown more, completely confused at how we were just on the highway to him being inside me and now he was staring at the ceiling with a lazy smile on his face.

“If I start,” he tells me, likely feeling the confusion that is now rippling off my body, “I won’t be able to stop and we have a birthday party to attend.” I let out a huff of air, rolling onto my side to trace the tops of the letters of his tattoo that are peeking out from his pants -- now low on his hips because I had managed to unbutton before he promptly rolled off of me.  

Aaron turns on his side and runs a hand down my face, shaking his head, almost in disbelief. I lean forward and kiss his lips and he hums in response, pulling back a bit to look at me. His gaze is full of so much adoration, of so much love that I find it hard to breathe. I once had the thought that there was nothing about Aaron that wasn’t intense, and I don’t think I’ve ever been so right about anything in my life. It charges the air, a lightning strike through my veins, through every cell of my body. When he looks at me this way it never fails to make the blush creep up to my cheeks, never fails to make my whole body hot as though I were his own person sun. 

“If we weren’t already dating,” he tells me, a smile on his lips, “I don’t think I’d ever be able to stop pursuing you. Your heart,” he places his hand over my chest, “Your body,” a finger runs down my abdomen, pausing at the elastic of my underwear, “Your mind,” the same finger runs up up up my throat, over my lips and cheek until he taps my forehead. “You, my love. You consume me wholly.” 

My breath catches in my throat and suddenly I’ve forgotten how to breathe at all, a side effect that I’ve found as a result of being so close to this man that I am so helplessly hopelessly desperately in love with. This man that has never doubted me, never ceased to believe in me even when I so strongly doubted myself. 

Aaron pauses and nods to himself once. “I don’t think I’ll ever stop pursuing you anyway. I want to drink you in, feel you in my veins. I want to stay tangled with you day and night and ignore all responsibility. I’ve never liked birthdays. You know why. But your birthday is my favorite day in history because it is the day that the world gave me you.” 

“I love you,” I whisper, unable to form any other coherent thought as he presses his lips to mine. His tongue has just slipped into my mouth when someone starts banging on the door. I frown, as does Aaron as he rolls out of bed. 

“You guys are going to be late! I swear on my fucking life if either of you are in your birthday suits --” Kenji. Of course. Aaron pulls the door open and I roll onto my side facing the door with raised brows. “Gross. Absolutely disgusting. Do you guys ever stop? Like, you know that there’s more to a relationship than just --” He doesn’t get to finish because Aaron slams the door in his face, and I, I can’t stop laughing. 

for @darlingod <3

@starseternalnighttriumphant @schmlip-scribble 

i can’t remember anyone else that’s read shatter me oops