#*shrugs* just my opinion.. you don’t have to agree or disagree | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

angelfic · 1 year ago

Text

— CALM AFTER THE STORM

pairing: remus lupin x reader

summary: the 4 times you hate each other, and the one time you don’t. alternatively, remus lupin is a pain in your arse and yours alone.

warnings: enemies to lovers, swearing, kissing, mention of blood and wounds, some bad writing as always which is unedited

author’s note: just a little e2l fic for my own indulgence as its my fave trope and its criminal how i barely have any e2l fics… also haven’t written anything in ages soooo enjoy!

when he just has to be controversial

The sun was beaming, colourful rays reflecting over your book through the stained-glass windows of the Gryffindor common room as you lounged on the sofa with your head in Lily’s lap. You were barely paying attention to the chatter of your friends around you, choosing to focus on your copy of ‘The Catcher in the Rye’ and Marlene’s soft guitar playing. The lazy afternoon is a welcome break from the increasingly stressful N.E.W.T lessons that have had you all so exhausted, you’re not sure if Peter is asleep or dead from his curled-up position on the rug.

You don’t even realise someone is saying your name until Marlene tickles the sole of your socked foot with her guitar pick, making you yelp and draw your legs in from where they were previously tucked in between Marlene and her guitar.

“What was that for?” you grumble, nudging her arm with your foot.

Marlene smirks, nodding over to James. “He told me to get your attention. Didn’t specify how.”

You roll your eyes and turn on your side to face the boy in question, his grin unfaltering as he multitasks polishing the handle of his broomstick and talking to you. “Not my fault you’re dead to the world when you’re reading,” he says, matter-of-fact, continuing when you raise your eyebrows in impatience. “I was just wondering how you could look so interested in that book. Remus said he’d do my homework for a month if I finished it the other day and I couldn’t get past five arse-numbingly dull pages.”

You scoff, adjusting your position again to face Remus as well. “And why was Remus betting you to read my book, exactly?”

“It was my copy,” Remus replies, scribbling away on his parchment, cross legged on his chair, to undoubtedly finish the Potions essay that Slughorn had set yesterday. You’re transfixed on the way his hand is moving across the page for a second, unable to fathom how someone can have such messy handwriting. You aren’t surprised in the slightest that the next words coming out of his mouth are ones you disagree with. “I wanted to see how long he lasted reading the slowest-paced book in the world.”

You abruptly sit up at this, shutting your book and forgetting plans of relaxation.

“Hey, watch it!” Lily exclaims, lifting the bottle of black polish she’s using to paint Sirius’ nails from its balanced position on her thigh to avoid you spilling it all over her white top. “If you’re about to argue, please refrain from throwing things until after I’ve done the second coat of nail polish.”

You pointedly ignore this and narrow your eyes at Remus who, infuriatingly, still hasn’t lifted his head from his essay. “I’m surprised you found it hard to read such a slow book. Thought that’d be perfect for you.”

“Look what you’ve started, Prongs,” Sirius sighs, examining his nails.

Seeing the corners of Remus’ lips pull up into a slight smile at your comment just spurs you on in defence of the book you were previously enjoying. “Besides, it’s about a real-life teenager with real-life struggles, not The Hobbit on his latest adventure.”

“Who’s Hobbit?” James mumbles, scratching his head in confusion as Marlene just shrugs, equally oblivious.

“It’s overrated,” Remus insists, finally setting down his quill to look at you. The amused expression still hasn’t left his face and you make a noise halfway between a scoff and a high-pitched squeal of indignance. “Even James agrees.”

“Oh, and James’ opinion on literature is the standard now?” You raise a brow, tutting when James starts to protest. “The only book James has finished in the last six years was Quidditch Through the Ages.”

The way James slowly slides the aforementioned book under one of the sofa cushions doesn’t go unnoticed by anyone. Sirius starts snickering, much to Lily’s annoyance as she tries to control his hand. “She got you there, in fairness, mate.”

Sirius’ chortling seems to stir Peter from his sleep and he opens one eye to peer at you. Seeming to catch sight of your irritated expression, he frowns. “Are these two arguing like an old married couple again?”

“Merlin help us if these two ever decide to get married,” Marlene utters under her breath, bent over her guitar and avoiding the weight of your glare.

“Yeah, he wishes,” you grumble, shuffling around on the sofa to get back into a comfortable position with your book. Remus’ smile has only widened in response and he seems to enjoy your discomfort as you overcompensate for showing your annoyance by wriggling about.

“I dream about it every night,” Remus replies, dryly and Peter giggles below you before turning over to sleep again.

You overcompensate a little too much by moving around, because Lily huffs from beside you and starts scrambling around for a tissue. “What did I say about the second coat?”

“I didn’t throw anything this time!”

2. when he won’t let you give someone a black eye

Defence Against the Dark Arts is your favourite N.E.W.T subject for a lot of reasons. You enjoy the lesson content, it’ll be useful in future years, and it’s the one lesson you share with every single one of your friends.

You’ve gotten used to James and Sirius messing around while Professor Marigold recites fact after fact about spells and creatures and wizards of dark nature. Its like soothing background noise to you and your classmates who all concentrate in silence most of the time.

Which is why your quill stops on your page and leaves a growing ink blot when you hear snickering and whispers from the other side of the classroom rather than from in front of you where the marauders sit in a line.

The scoffs of disgust coming from Snape and Mulciber are loud enough to attract the attention of the rest of the students and even the teacher, who eventually sets down her piece of chalk in the middle of talking about Wolfsbane potion with an impatient sigh.

“Is there some sort of pressing issue that can’t wait until after class to discuss, boys?” Professor Marigold asks with a tone of ire that would impress Professor McGonagall. “Even Black and Potter have decided to give it a rest today.”

She’s not wrong, you think, noting how they’ve been less disruptive than usual for this lesson, probably tired out from setting each other’s robes on fire in Charms the hour before.

“The pressing issue is werewolves,” Snape mutters quietly, as though he doesn’t want to make a big issue but can’t stop himself from speaking up. “We should be learning more about how to kill them and less about the price of potion ingredients.”

Lily gasps from beside you and Sirius and James tense up at his words. Remus doesn’t lift his head, but you absently notice how his grip tightens around his quill when Peter nervously turns to him. Peter isn’t one for conflict and he’s always been nervous around this particular group of Slytherins, so you’re not surprised he’s anxious.

“Werewolves are still people, you can’t just go around killing them!” you find your mouth moving on its own, before your brain can catch up. When Snape turns to direct his scowl at you, its matched by your own as well as Lily’s disappointed frown. “They didn’t ask to be werewolves, they physically can’t help it! How would you feel if people wanted to kill you for not being able to control being such an arse.”

“Miss Y/L/N,” Professor Marigold warns, setting her stern eyes on you. You’re not one for disrupting lessons or getting into trouble, so when Remus turns around to look at you with a raised eyebrow, your cheeks start to warm and you stubbornly don’t look his way again.

Snape ignores her to continue glaring at you. “I don’t have the capacity to kill people in a feral rage now, do I?” His gaze flits from you to Lily and Marlene and then lingers on the boys. “Of course, you’re defending werewolves. It’s no surprise considering who you choose to associate yourself with.”

“Mr Snape.”

“You have no need to fly into a feral rage to kill people,” you reply, voice steadily rising in volume. Sirius and James turn their heads back and forth like they’re watching a tennis match and you know the only reason they haven’t piped up to agree with you is because they’re too entertained watching the way you’re about to jump out of your seat to pounce on Snape. “All you need to do is show someone your face for them to die of fright–”

“ENOUGH!” Professor Marigold’s booming voice cuts through the laughter of everyone on the Gryffindor side of the classroom and when you turn to look at her, you see even Remus’ shoulders are shaking with silent laughter. You’re not sure why this pleases you, but it doesn’t last long enough for you to figure it out before Marigold waves her wand in the direction of the door and sends it flying open. “Both of you will wait for me outside the classroom until the lesson has finished so I can discuss your appalling behaviour.”

You gape at her for a second, before relenting and grabbing your bag, not wanting to argue with her authority. Your friends have different ideas.

“That’s not fair!” Marlene exclaims, standing up in protest. “She didn’t even do anything wrong.”

“Yeah,” James agrees, also standing up. “Snape’s the one who was being an annoying pri–”

“Sit down, everyone,” Marigold cuts him off, pursing her lips. “Everyone except Mr Snape and Miss Y/L/N. Do not even think about speaking Mr Black, or I won’t hesitate to suspend your and Mr Potter’s Quidditch privileges until further notice.”

Sirius shuts his mouth after a nudge from James and you shoot your friends a grateful smile before making your way out of the classroom, followed closely by Snape.

The door shuts behind him and you don’t bother sparing him a glance before dumping your bag on the ground and leaning against a wall to focus your gaze on a suit of armour for the next five minutes. You’re about half a minute in when you notice that one of the hands are slightly wonky and the classroom door suddenly opens.

Remus, of all people, enters the hallway to join the two of you and quickly shuts the door.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, furrowing your brows and getting up from against the wall.

“Yeah, what are you doing here?” Snape sneers at him, and you give him a scathing look before turning to Remus for an answer.

Remus pointedly ignores him to stand next to you against the brick wall. “I just pointed out to Professor Marigold that you both have your wands and she may not have two students left out here by the end of the lesson.”

“I can defend myself,” you snort, folding your arms. You aren’t sure if you’re annoyed that Remus is insinuating otherwise, or if you’re touched that he doesn’t want you to be hexed into oblivion by Snape. “Especially from him.”

“Oh, I know,” Remus raises both hands in surrender as his tone becomes grave. “It’s not you I’m worried about, trouble.”

“Ha ha,” you deadpan, rolling your eyes at the nickname. He started it around a year ago when you got your first ever detention for helping Sirius and James Charm the Slytherin chairs to throw them off every time someone sat. Your friends had kept quiet about your involvement, but Peeves had spotted you, the nosy bastard. The nickname stemmed from the fact it was the first time you had ever gotten into trouble and it never failed to irritate you. “You better be careful I don’t hex you.”

“I wouldn’t dream of annoying you,” he says, but the serious tone of voice is ruined by the way his lips are twitching in an attempt not to laugh at you. “After what happened when I said I didn’t like that one Jane Austen book? Forget it.”

“Hey, you insulted one of my favourite characters,” you point out, resting a hand on your hip. “What did Emma ever do to you? You had that hex coming.”

“I had pink hair for a week,” Remus narrows his eyes at you, but you can tell he isn’t really angry. Although he refuses to admit it, you know for a fact he didn’t hate the pink hair considering how good he looked with it. An annoying indiscretion on your part. Remus looks behind you for a split second before leaning in a little to whisper. “I won’t get in the way if you want to turn Snape’s hair pink, though. Preferably a very bright shade of flaming, hot pink.”

At risk of your own cheeks flaming up from how close he is – really, what’s the need? – you shake your head let your hair fall into your face. Almost having forgotten Snape is also there, you start when he scoffs (for what you think is the millionth time this afternoon) and you sigh before facing him begrudgingly. “What now?”

“Couldn’t handle the content of today’s lesson?” he asks, tiling his head. You’re about to ask him what the hell he’s talking about before you realise, he isn’t actually talking to you, but to the boy behind you.

“Uh…” you trail off, not sure how to respond. All three of you currently standing in the corridor know that Remus is smart enough to tackle any type of content, especially something as memorable and interesting as werewolves.

Remus’ amused demeanour has been wiped away and you can’t determine his exact expression, but his voice is cold when he talks to you. “Just ignore him.”

“You and your group of friends can’t help themselves when it comes to defending strays and all sorts,” Snape continues, much to your confusion. “It’s not enough that you’re a group full of blood-traitors and mudbloods…”

Remus tenses up behind you and you find yourself frozen for a second.

The next thing you know, you’re lunging at the greasy-haired Slytherin with every intention of hurting his face with your fists, wand long forgotten. Your fingers barely brush his robes, however, when you feel yourself being hauled back by strong arms that wrap around your middle.

“Let go!” you snarl, enjoying the way Snape has backed away, eyes wide and worried. “Did you hear what he said? Remus, let me go.”

He doesn’t relent, still holding onto you when he leans down to speak in your ear. “You’ve already gotten into trouble. You’ll get into a whole lot more when everyone walks out to see Snape with a black eye and you with bruised knuckles.”

“Worth it,” you grit out, still pulling away from his grip and throwing daggers with your eyes at Snape. After a few more seconds of pointless struggling, you relax very slightly just to turn in his arms so you can direct your next words to him more pointedly. “Not only is he a slimy, blood-supremacist twat, but he also wants to kill a poor bunch of werewolves. We should be throwing him into the bloody Black Lake!”

“I know, I-” Remus is cut off when the door opens and students start flooding into the corridor to provide a barrier between you and Snape, indicating the end of the lesson. Remus finally lets you go when he realises you’re in direct view of Professor Marigold who stands behind her desk, waiting for you. “I had no idea you were such an advocate for werewolves.”

It’s the last thing you expected him to say and you immediately look up at him and frown. “Again, they’re people. They don’t deserve to be victims of prejudice just as no one does.” He doesn’t respond, staring at you with an unreadable expression and a hint of a smile. Your frown deepens in confusion. Was he… laughing at you? Especially after you had just gotten along. “I’m so glad you find me amusing,” you say, scowling and storming back into the classroom and away from Remus.

3. when he's too good for flower crowns.

“Tell it again,” James insists, grin wide as ever plastered onto his face despite the withering look you send his way. “Getting a glimpse at even the possibility of Snivellus getting pummelled by Y/N would have made my entire year.”

“The galleons I’d give up to have been there,” Sirius releases a wistful sigh, closing his eyes as he lies down, facing the sun.

You hand him the daisy chain crown you just finished and he dutifully dons it. “I’ll alert the Ministry of Magic to order in a time-turner for an issue of utmost urgency,” you say sarcastically as you start on the next daisy chain. Sirius merely winks at you.

“I think you should’ve let her have at him, Remus,” Marlene states, unapologetic. You nod vehemently in agreement, a little too enthusiastically as you end up splitting a daisy down the middle.

Lily tuts, adjusting her own flower crown as it slips against her silky red hair. “I’m glad you didn’t. Godric knows what Professor Marigold would have done,” she shudders at the thought, ever the diligent student.

“Forget Marigold,” Peter chimes in. “Imagine what Professor McGonagall would have done.”

You don’t miss how he looks over his shoulder in case your head of house is taking a stroll along the grassy grounds.

“She would have combusted when you called him an ugly arse,” Remus pipes in, unhelpfully might you add, from where he sits slightly away from the group under a tree, reading.

The comment sends Marlene, Sirius and Peter into a fit of laughter – James is too busy staring at the way the sun is making Lily look ethereal and she’s too busy pretending not to notice while being secretly pleased. Doing a quick survey of your friends, you see everyone now has a flower crown except Remus. You make your way to the tree he’s resting against while the others chat, and sit yourself down with purpose.

Remus lowers his book very slightly to peer at you and your too-sweet smile. He raises a sceptical brow. “Should I be scared right now?”

You drop the fake smile and hold up your flower crown expectantly. “Everyone has one, but you.”

“How observant,” he says, setting his book down to look at you in mock astonishment. “Have the Aurors at the Ministry caught wind of you yet?”

“Don’t be a pain,” you groan, dropping it onto his open book. “I want everyone to wear one for the picture!”

Remus sighs, looking at the large camera over by your bag. You had saved up all summer to buy a magical camera to be able to take pictures of you and your friends in your final year at Hogwarts. The time you used your own muggle camera was a disaster of sparks and broken bits of plastic that took hours to mend. “I already agreed to your incessant picture-taking,” he reminds you, acting like it’s the most painful thing in the world. “The flower crown is not happening.”

“Fine, you miserable git,” you flick a handful of grass at him, sending him sputtering. “Now come and sit for the photo.”

You return to the group with Remus behind you and get everyone in position before hunting down someone to take the photo. Glancing around, you spot a close bunch of first-years and send Lily to use her Head Girl credentials (and warm and inviting personality, of course) to rope one of them into coming over.

“Okay, smile everyone,” you order, plopping down on the grass next to James. You elbow him in the ribs, not even having to look at him to know what he’s doing. “Stop looking at Lily and look at the camera.”

With a couple of mutterings and some nudging, the nervous first-year Hufflepuff girl shakily takes the picture and hurriedly hands you the camera in the middle of the picture sliding out of it. James and Sirius go back to playing with a golden Snitch while Peter watches, while Remus returns to his book.

Lily looks at the picture and coos over how cute everyone looks at the same time as Marlene complaining about her hair. You impatiently take the picture back to slide it into your photo album and something catches your eye.

Sirius is making a peace sign behind Remus’ head. His head that wears a flower crown.

4. when he bleeds out on you.

You’re not sure what time it is – either very late at night, or very early in the morning. You do know, however, that you want to finish your Herbology essay so you can enjoy tomorrow (or today) and cheer your friends on in the Gryffindor vs Ravenclaw Quidditch game. You only have the conclusion left and you’re confident it’ll be done in the next ten minutes.

If you can find your damned quill, that is. You could have sworn you had it ten minutes ago, just before you snuck down to the kitchens to persuade the house-elves to give you the strongest cup of coffee they could make. You take a quick sip and grimace at the lukewarm temperature before setting it down and getting up to search. After turning every sofa cushion upside down, you go to crouch behind the sofa.

You hear the door to the common room being swung open and the hushed voices of the Marauders enter, but you don’t take too much notice as you squint for your quill. It isn’t unusual for the boys to be roaming around the castle at odd hours of the night, but a hiss of pain grabs your attention at the same time you spot the quill.

“Can you guys manage taking him up to the-” Sirius cuts himself off when your face pops up from behind the sofa. He freezes in his efforts to hold up Remus, who you notice is leaning on him and James and Merlin’s balls he’s covered in blood.

“What the fuck happened to him?” Your voice comes out weak as you walk over to the boys. Remus has deep, bleeding slashes over his chest and an assortment of little cuts on his face and hands. He seems barely able to keep his eyes open but when his gaze meets yours, he winces. He isn’t the only one hurt and you realise Sirius’ arm is damp with blood and trembling, the same going for James’ thigh. “What the fuck happened to all of you, oh my God…?”

“Peter, you were supposed to keep watch,” James hisses at the boy who looks like a deer in headlights. He looks a lot better than the others, with only a couple of small cuts scattered around his face and arms.

“She was behind the sofa!”

James’ leg buckles and you snap out of your state of shock to dart forward and keep him steady. “Right. Shit, okay,” you breathe out, holding off asking any questions to prevent anyone from bleeding out. “James, Sirius, set Remus down on the sofa and take off his shirt. Peter, help these two up the stairs and go find a first-aid kit or something.”

“We’ve got a couple in the dorm,” Sirius says, summoning one of them down with a quick Accio and handing it to you. He hesitates for a second, probably unsure if he should stay and explain things, before deciding to turn in the direction of the stairs with James as Peter rushes to help them up. “Look after him, please. We’ll be right back, Moony.”

“Take your time, I’ve got him,” you utter, already fiddling with the first-aid box and trying to open it with shaky hands. You’re no healer, but you know enough to panic when you see Remus has had his eyes closed for the last few seconds. “Remus, keep your eyes open!”

He groans, cracking one eye open to look at you. “I’m injured and bleeding out and you still manage to yell at me.”

“I wasn’t yelling,” you frown, unscrewing the bottle of dittany and scrambling for the cotton pads. You try to avoid Remus’ gaze because you feel extremely silly about being more panicked than him when he’s the one with claw marks down his chest. “Don’t move, or it’ll hurt.”

While dabbing the liquid onto the deep gashes in an attempt to close them up, you ponder on the fact that he probably knows it hurts from experience. You’re not completely clueless.

“What are you thinking?” Remus whispers in the stifling quiet of the common room, looking unsure.

You don’t cease in your movements, changing cotton pad after cotton pad. It takes you a minute to muster up the courage to meet Remus’ gaze again and this time he looks more nervous than you’ve ever seen him. “You’re a werewolf, aren’t you?”

Remus gives you an almost imperceptible nod, like he doesn’t want to admit to it. You take a deep breath.

“Who else knows?” you ask calmly, as if you’re asking him about the weather.

“The boys and Lily,” he admits, swallowing hard. “Oh, and Snape.”

“Snape?” you exclaim, halting your dabbing to gawp at Remus. “I’m not saying you had to tell me or anything, but Snape?”

Remus winces and you don’t think it has anything to do with his injuries. “In my defence he found out on his own and hates me for it,” he rushes out. “And it’s not that I didn’t want to tell you… I-”

“It’s fine,” you cut him off, waving him off and wondering how good you’re hiding the fact you’re a little hurt. “You didn’t have to tell me.”

“No, I wanted to. I did,” Remus insists, looking earnest. There’s something in his voice that’s a little pained and desperate that has you meeting his eyes. “I just couldn’t have dealt with it if you started looking at me differently. The boys and Lily sometimes do, y’know? Like I’m made of glass or something. It’s refreshing whenever you scowl at me or call me an idiot or an arse or a stupid gi-”

“Okay,” you stop him, stifling a grin. “I get it!”

Remus’ eyes flash with relief for a second before you notice doubt start to creep in again. “You don’t need to hide it, by the way. I won’t hold it against you if… If you’re scared or disgusted, or-”

“What?” you cut him off again and scrunch your nose in confusion. “I’m not scared or disgusted. Why would you think that?”

“You’ve been a bit too calm,” he points out.

Rolling your eyes, you grab a bandage to start patching up the worst of the injuries before you move onto the minor cuts and bruises. “I didn’t want you to think I was freaking out, or looking at you differently,” you quote his own words to him with a pointed look, making him smile again. “I don’t, you know. Think of you any differently, I mean.”

His expression is unreadable as he just looks at you and you just look at him, bandage hovering over his chest before his fingers come up to brush the back of your hand. He lightly holds your hand, softly running his thumb over your knuckle as his voice drops to a whisper again. “Thank you.”

You offer him a gentle smile, holding his gaze for a second longer before focusing on bandaging him up again. His hand drops to the side and you oddly find yourself missing his warmth. The large bandage adheres to his skin and you run your fingers along the sides to stick them down, feeling him shudder under your touch.

You quickly busy yourself with looking for more supplies in the kit to hide the way your own breathing has increased slightly. “Hey, anyway, I almost walloped Snape right in the eye for you. If that wasn’t any indication of my standing on werewolves, I don’t know what is.”

“Ah, my knight in shining armour,” Remus chuckles before breaking into a wheeze as the muscles of his injured abdomen contract. “Fuck, don’t make me laugh.”

“Don’t laugh at me then!”

5. when you’re definitely not jealous… you’re not!

Three cups of coffee. You’re on three cups of coffee. It’s also the same number of hours you’ve slept and by Godric can you feel it in every inch of your body as the muted chatter of the Great Hall buzzes around you. Your head is in your hands as you contemplate stealing some Polyjuice potion and bribing a first-year to take a dose with your hair in it so you can go to bed and they can pretend to watch the Quidditch match.

You knock back the last sip of coffee when you sense a presence sliding onto the bench in front of you. Groggily setting the cup down, you see that its Remus. It takes a second to remember why this is concerning.

“Morning, h- Wait, what the hell are you doing out of bed?” you hiss, leaning forward to avoid anyone listening in. You scan your eyes over his chest, two seconds away from ripping his shirt off to check his bandages. “How are you even standing?”

“Relax, Florence Nightingale,” Remus says, rolling his eyes at your dramatics. He does his own quick sweep of the table and sees that most people are out in the Quidditch stands already, so he proceeds to pull the neckline of his shirt down slightly to reveal an already fading scar. No bleeding in sight. “I went to Madame Pomfrey with the boys this morning and she hurried up the process like she usually does. I feel achier than a 90-year-old woman with a metal hip, but the brunt of it is gone and Pads and Prongs are good as new.”

“Okay,” you say slowly, narrowing your eyes slightly. “If you’re sure you can sit out in the stands…”

“I can once I’ve consumed every cup of tea on the premises,” he says, reaching for the teapot. An annoyingly smug smirk starts to appear on his face while he pours. “What, are you worried about me, trouble?”

You scowl instantly. “No, I just don’t want you collapsing on me in the Quidditch stands while I’m cheering the boys on.”

“Right.” He hides his grin behind his cup of tea.

“Hey,” you mumble, nodding to Patricia Holloway who looks like she’s making a beeline to your table. More specifically, towards Remus. “Bright and cheery Hufflepuff incoming.”

“Merlin, it’s too early for this,” Remus whispers, taking another sip of tea before his face breaks out into a charming smile directed at the girl who slides into the empty seat next to him. “Morning, Patricia.”

“You look good today, Remus,” Patricia rests her elbow on the table and tilts her head to look at him with simpering eyes. It’s no secret Remus is good-looking and you’ve heard a million girls talk about him before. You’ve never seen any of them approach him yourself, though. You can’t say you enjoy it. “Are you… okay, Y/N?”

You didn’t realise you were scowling until she addresses you and you rapidly smooth out your expression, clearing your throat. Remus looks amused, which makes it harder to keep the scowl off your face. “Fine! I’m fine, just a bit confused since Remus looks half asleep,” you attempt a laugh through gritted teeth and are spurred on when Remus is actively trying to fight a grin. “And his hair currently makes him look like he’s been dragged through the Forbidden Forest.”

He can’t stop himself snorting at that, but Patricia just looks confused as though unsure how to react. She settles on a nervous little laugh, turning back to him. “I can fix that for you, here,” she says, scooting closer and starts to run her hands through Remus’ hair. You poke your cheek with your tongue, marvelling at how bold she’s being and how Remus is just sat there, still looking amused as ever. “There, what do you think?”

“A hairbrush couldn’t have done a better job,” you deadpan, softening your expression slightly when Patricia begins to look a little disconcerted. “You keep doing that, I’m going to head off to the Quidditch field.”

You all but storm out of the Great Hall, exhaustion having left you completely. It’s replaced by a newfound whirl of irritation that pools in your stomach and creeps up your throat, making you feel a little sick. It must be the coffee, you think, and you’re trying to remember if the beverage has ever made you experience this when all of a sudden there’s a hand circling your wrist.

“Stop, Y/N,” Remus says, a little breathless. You didn’t realise he’d run out after you and you feel bad about his injuries before your gaze snags on his newly tousled hair. “Godric, you walk fast.”

“I didn’t ask you to catch up to me,” you snap, purposely scowling this time. The cheeky bastard still looks amused and your irritation is growing faster than ever. “Besides, the match doesn’t start for another fifteen minutes. Plenty of time for Patricia to give you a whole new hairdo. Maybe she can give you plaits or– Why are you laughing.”

“You’re jealous,” he exhales with a smile, sounding positively delighted. Any feelings of concern have disappeared and are being rapidly replaced with wanting to thwack him upside the head. “Oh my God, you really are jealous.”

“Jealous, my arse,” you scoff, turning your back to him with every intention of speed walking out of the castle. His long legs keep up with you easily and he rushes in front of you to stop you going anywhere. You glare at him. “Leave me alone, Lupin.”

“Not until you admit that you’re jealous.” Remus is positively giddy with glee and you feel a flush of heat crawling up your neck. You set your jaw stubbornly and he’s incredulous as he shakes his head. “Merlin, you really have to argue with me on everything don’t you? I don’t care about Patricia Holloway and I’m glad you’re jealous. Means you’re less likely to break my nose when I kiss you.”

You barely get the chance to make an incoherent noise when Remus grabs you by the waist and presses his lips against yours, kissing you like he isn’t prepared to let you go anytime soon. His mouth slides hot and wet against your own and you gasp into the kiss when he nips lightly at your lip, your hands coming up to slide into his hair, making it unruly all over again.

Remus is the first to break apart, too soon, and you physically restrain yourself from chasing after his lips. He pulls back slightly, breathing fast to look into your eyes, searching for the answer you’re unable to speak yet.

“You… uh, I-I’m…” you trail off, dazed and breathless and head swirling with every emotion under the sun.

Remus laughs, pulling you impossibly close and leaving a soft kiss on your jaw, which doesn’t help your current speech issues. “If I knew that was all it took to shut you up, I’d have kissed you years ago.”

“Wha-!” You slap his arm, snapping out of the haze. You hide your current uncertainty behind a glare. It hit you like a ton of bricks, but you realised about five seconds into the kiss that you wanted Remus Lupin in every way, shape and form. You’re more than a little terrified, so what better defence mechanism than anger? “Why did you actually kiss me, you prick?”

“You are the densest, most clueless,” Remus begins, pausing to kiss you lightly a couple times when you start to scowl. “Most stubborn and most beautiful little witch I’ve ever known. And if you haven’t figured out after almost seven years that I love you, then I’m afraid we might have to admit you to St Mungo’s, because really-”

“Stop,” you whisper, lifting a finger to press against his lips, effectively silencing him. “You love me? You actually, seriously love me?”

He rolls his eyes and nods, like it’s obvious or something. You huff. “Then why have you been such an annoying pain in my bloody arse, Remus Lupin?!”

“Because,” he says, the word coming out muffled and you hastily remove your finger. “It was a good way to keep your attention. Plus, I like when you’re angry. It’s cute.”

You scowl without thinking and his smile impossibly widens.

“See?”

“Shut up and kiss me again,” you say dryly, pulling him in by the collar to give him a short, searing kiss. “Oh, and I guess I love you too.”

“So, no broken noses in my future?” Remus asks hopefully, softly sliding his nose against yours.

“No promises.”

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin blurb #remus lupin ff #remus lupin fic #marauders x reader #marauders fanfic #remus x reader #remus lupin scenarios #andrew garfield x reader #remus fanfic #remus fanfiction

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avxtarlz · 11 months ago

Text

𝐀𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞 || 𝐓𝐨𝐦 𝐁𝐥𝐲𝐭𝐡 𝐱 𝐀𝐜𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

��𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐘/𝐧 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐨𝐦 𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐀𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐬 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐇𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐀𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 ✰

(This is Inspired by When Zendaya and Tom Holland did this interview, so it may be similar but different in a way)

𝐀/𝐧: 𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭! 𝐈𝐦 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠. 🥲

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

—————-

You and Tom entered the room which had a table in the middle and chair on opposite sides. You both Greet Some of the Camera Crew and The interviewer behind the Camera. You didn’t know what exactly we were doing but you walked towards the table and saw the words Strongly Agree, Agree,Disagree And Strongly disagree.

You sat down and so did Tom as you guys smiled at each other ready for whatever is about to happen. As the Camera started rolling The interviewer broke the silence as she started to Explain what You both are gonna do.

————-

𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨 :

“I like American Football,I just don’t understand Why it’s called Football” Tom complained about the sport. You Let out a short giggle looking at him while he explained. “Cause they don’t use their feet” He continued as he looked behind the Cameras as he explained. You agreed with him as you said “yeah, it should be called something different maybe” nodding and now looking behind the cameras as well, Playing with you Rings on my finger.

“Throwball? But whatever you wanna call it.” Tom started to smile. You laughed at his Response. “Throwball?!” “Yes! Cause you don’t even kick it!” He started to Gesture with his Hands. “Well you do kick it once.” You point at him. “Yeah but just once.” Tom explained.

————

——

“It’s like a Face off.” You squinted my eyes at him. “I know. We’re supposed to be a team right?, I hope we agree on anything love.” He let out a chuckle squinting back. “Okay! Let’s do this!” You chuckled

The Interviewer started off with the first Question. “𝐏𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐎𝐧 𝐏𝐢𝐳𝐳𝐚 𝐈𝐬 𝐃𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬.”

She stated. As soon as You heard the Question Your Face turned into Disgust. You both grabbed Your cups and slid it to Your Opinion’s. You chose Strongly Disagree. Tom Chose Strongly Agree.

Tom looked at You shocked. “I don’t understand why people are so afraid of Pineapple on pizza?” Tom shrugged. You disagreed. “ No, That’s unnatural”

————-

“𝐀𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐈𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐟𝐨𝐨𝐝.“

As soon as Tom heard that He made a face and moved his cup to ‘Strongly Disagree’. “I really, I really don’t know. I haven’t had enough of Y’all’s food to know.” You made a questionable face.

“I’ll Do it for you.” Tom grabbed your cup and moved it to ‘Strongly Disagree’ with his cup. You let out a giggle at his response. “Well I like to say I do enjoy the food we got, but I really don’t know” You smiled as you grabbed your cup and placed it infront of you.

“Yeah” Tom nodded as he Agreed with you. “I’m mean America food? It’s like hot dogs?” You questioned the Interviewer. “Yeah what is American food?” Tom Asked looking behind the Camera.

“𝐖𝐡𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞. 𝐀𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐕𝐒 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞?

“Oh it’s gotta be British chocolate love.” Tom now looked at you. “I don’t really Know the difference..” You smiled at him. “Trust me.” Tom replied.

“𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐯𝐞 𝐍𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞?“

“Well, I mean not like enough to Like” You made movements with you hands explaining.

“𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐞 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞.“ They now gave a box to Tom.

“Ooh Jaffa Cakes? Love me Some Jaffa cakes. Have you ever had a Jaffa cake?” Tom looked at the box and looked back up to you. “No.” Shaking your head. “Would you like to try one?” Tom offered. “Sure.” As he started to open the box Tom explained what the dessert was.

“It’s uh- Like an orange-“ you Cut him off. “No.” You put your hands up In defense. Tom looked up at you. “I don’t like Orange flavored things.” You started to Laugh and So did the Crew. Tom Joined in.

“No but I actually don’t like orange flavored things!” You smiled at Tom. “Try it though! It’s not Orange-Flavored. It’s actually got Orange in it.” Tom passed the Cookie shaped object to you. “Yeah, Orange,Chocolate. Not for me.” you started to giggle.

You grabbed the Jaffa cake out of Tom’s hand and started to smell it. “Try it,Try,it. That’s double tasty. I promise.” As Tom Popped on into his mouth. “That doesn’t smell right!” You Now extended your hand and put the Jaffa cake infront of Tom’s Nose.

“Smell it!” You asked. “Smell it?! I’ve got one in my mouth!” Tom mumbled. “That doesn’t smell very good” You brought the Jaffa cake to your mouth as you took a nibble. “Love, you haven’t got to the Orange-bit yet.” Tom pointed to the center of the Jaffa cake.

“Oh that’s gotta be the Worst part” You made a disgusted face looking at Tom. Tom started to chuckle.

“I mean what’s in it?” You asked pointing to the Jaffa cake. “Orange filling.” Tom explained. You made a Gagging face. The crew and Tom started to laugh at your Response. Tom now was putting back the Jaffa cakes in the box.

“I respect that.” Tom nodded. “Can I take these?” He asked the Producer. The producer agreed. “Would you like to have mine?” You asked Tom as you offered the Jaffa cake to him, “sure.” Tom grabbed it from you hand as he popped it into his mouth.

————-

Like by 89,546 and others

Tomynsources If you haven’t go check out the new video that was just posted! Y/n and Tom were both so Cute and Chaotic in this video 💕 ＠y/nusername ＠tomblyth

𝖵𝗂𝖾𝗐 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌

𝖴𝗌𝖾𝗋𝟣：𝖳𝖧𝖠𝖳𝖲 𝖬𝖮𝖳𝖧𝖤𝖱 𝖠𝖭𝖣 𝖥𝖠𝖳𝖧𝖤𝖱

𝖴𝗌𝖾𝗋𝟤：𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇𝗍 𝖺𝗀𝗋𝗎𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗂𝖿 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇𝗍 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗃𝖺𝖿𝖿𝖺 𝖼𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗌，𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍．

^ 𝖴𝗌𝖾𝗋𝟥：𝖭𝖾𝖾𝖽 𝖺 𝗆𝖺𝗇 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝖳𝗈𝗆 𝖡𝗅𝗒𝗍𝗁 😔

𝖴𝗌𝖾𝗋𝟦：𝖧𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝗎𝗍𝖿𝗂𝗍𝗌 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗆 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝖺𝗂𝗅 𝗆𝖾！𝖫𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗆𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖶𝖺𝗋𝖽𝗋𝗈𝖻𝖾！

𝖴𝗌𝖾𝗋𝟧：𝖨 𝖺𝖻𝗌𝗈𝗅𝗎𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝖢𝗁𝖾𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗒！

𝖴𝗌𝖾𝗋𝟨：𝖨𝗏𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗋𝗒 𝗃𝖺𝖿𝖿𝖺 𝖼𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗌 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗆 𝖺𝗍 😩

𝖴𝗌𝖾𝗋𝟩：𝖳𝖮𝖬 𝖫𝖨𝖪𝖤𝖲 𝖯𝖨𝖭𝖤𝖠𝖯𝖯𝖫𝖤 𝖮𝖭 𝖯𝖨𝖹𝖹𝖠？！

^ 𝖴𝗌𝖾𝗋𝟪：𝖸／𝖭 𝖥𝖠𝖢𝖤 𝖠𝖲 𝖲𝖮𝖮𝖭 𝖠𝖲 𝖲𝖧𝖤 𝖧𝖤𝖠𝖱𝖣 𝖳𝖧𝖠𝖳！

𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐲𝐭𝐡 and 𝐘/𝐧𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲

－－－－－－－

𝖬𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍

𝖣𝗈𝗇𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝖲𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝗆𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝖱𝖾𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗌！ ❤︎︎

#tom blyth #coriolanus snow #billy the kid #tom blyth x reader #coriolanus snow x reader #billy the kid x reader

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dmercer91 · 1 year ago

Text

helpless, hopeless. me94

in which he is helpless in school and hopelessly in love. (18+!!)

i think i just gave myself a crush

“could we try a reward system or something? i can’t help that i’m not motivated when the material is this” you rolled your eyes to yourself at his words, tapping your pen on the textbook in your lap out of frustration

mark was unteachable. you were sure he knew what ambition felt like, you were sure deep down he cared about academics to an extent, because you don’t commit to umich sports without at least some drive, right?

frustration got the better of you, and your tone indicated that well with your response. “what, do you want me to throw bacon at you? the reward is passing the class, mark,”

he glared at you, his jaw ticking slightly because of the attitude you’d given him. you were both starting to think your prof was some sort of comedian for pairing the two of you up for tutoring

“i meant something i want, not something i need, but thank you for your kind suggestion, i’ll be sure to keep bacon in mind when you’re throwing questions at me” you slammed the book on your lap shut, gesturing for him to tell you his great idea for how you should motivate him to study

“go ahead, then,”

his demeanour changed, his pupils dilated, and his tongue quickly poked out to lick his lips before he shrugged.

“well, i saw-“ his body language had given you plenty of context regarding what he was about to say, and you didn’t need to hear it.

“are you out of your fucking mind? you’re lucky if it’s a hundred degrees in here and i even consider taking off my hoodie,” you shut him down before the thought could even reach his lips.

“come on, you need the extra credit. i’ll do it too, if i get one wrong, or something,” you shook your head, lips parted in exasperation.

if you didn’t think it’d get to his already big head, you’d laugh like he was telling a hilarious joke

“i need the extra credit, not the extracurriculars. i also have zero interest in seeing you without a shirt on,” he grinned for a split second, hiding it by hanging his head until he could fight it off.

“if you want my opinion, the extracurriculars might help you calm the fuck down. but sure, you don’t need it,” you sucked your teeth, not even bothering to respond to him as you stuffed your things back into your backpack and moved off his bed.

“hey, wait, i was just being a dick, y/n,” he reached his arm to grab your wrist, but you moved away, and his hand landed square on your thigh. you could see the gears turning in his head before he used the leverage to tug you back towards him.

“it seems like dick is almost your default. let me go, there are plenty of pretty boy assholes for me to tutor for my extra credit. a few in this house, actually. but nobody in their right mind is agreeing to strip if it means you’ll pay attention to them” he raised an eyebrow, disagreeing with your last remark.

“and what if i don’t want any other mean tutors to strip for me?” your cheeks went hot but you blatantly ignored the feeling, refusing to look down at him cause you knew what was waiting for you if you did.

his hands were already smoothing up and down your hips, and when you refused to look at him he stood, pressing his chest to yours.

your chin ended up just by his collar bone, and he looked down at you, a soft pout showing in his eyes but not his lips.

“this isn’t cute.” you deadpanned, causing him to smirk, tilting his head.

“no?” you shook your head, mimicking his no, but definitively rather than questioningly.

“is it convincing, at least?” he asked, a small smile playing at his lips.

you sighed in response, taking the flash cards from your front bag pouch and throwing the rest of the bag on the floor.

you both sat back down on his bed, and you glumly asked the first question on the card. he got it wrong, and eyed you til you moved to the next card.

you were half expecting him to take his sweater off, but he hadn’t.

he looked bored right out of his mind, and the way he answered showed that he was still wildly disinterested in the topic.

he wouldn’t ponder, just immediately said the first thing that came to mind so he could move on.

the next question, you knew he had the answer to. when he got it right, you paused.

he raised an eyebrow, giving you a look of annoyance when you took so long to flip to the next question.

he quickly lost the attitude when you pulled your sweater over your head and refused to meet his eyes, just moved on to the next question quietly.

he took longer to think about it this time, eventually coming up with the right answer. you look your shirt off, leaving you in your bra.

you looked up at him for a quick second to see his cheeks bright red and his lips parted, his lashes fluttering as he blinked repeatedly.

he hardly heard the next question, and stumbled until he got it wrong. you looked at him expectantly, then looked away, trying not to look back at him while he cleared his throat and pulled off his sweater

he hadn’t been wearing a shirt underneath, so you were met with his bare chest when you did muster up the courage to look in his direction.

he got the next question right, and you gave yourself a moment before you raised your hips and discarded your pants. he was staring at you, gaze soft but almost overwhelming as it took you in.

he got the next question right as well, but you didn’t budge, just gave him a small shake of your head.

“something else, then. yeah? maybe come sit in my lap,” you nodded reluctantly, taking your new place on his thigh, your side to his chest.

you ignored the bulge in his sweatpants to the best of your ability, and then he got the next question wrong, so the only barrier between the two of you was your respective underwear

you ignored the way he twitched when you moved even slightly, and you definitely ignored the way he was throbbing, too focused on the same sensation coming from your own core.

“what now?” you asked, voice meek and quiet as you looked down at him.

“i have some ideas im not sure you would approve of” he grinned, and you rolled your eyes in response, cheeks getting warm for what felt like the millionth time that night. this time, though, the rest of your skin felt a similar scorching feeling under his eyes.

“like what?” he licked his lips at that, taking the cards from your hand and setting them aside.

he kissed your lips once, but wasted no time in moving to your jaw, down your neck and to the tops of your boobs.

you let him take his time there, liking the sensation of him nipping gently at the sensitive skin, but eventually you pulled his face back so you could kiss him properly again.

you revelled in the feeling of his smile against your lips, and were quick to part your lips when his tongue slid against your lower one.

you felt his hands pull at your waist, and you let him move you, eyebrows furrowing when he set you so his thigh was slotted between your own.

his thigh jerked when you took it upon yourself to roll your hips, the sudden movement pulling a whine from your lips.

“god you’re so beautiful, baby” he mumbled, placing his hands on your thighs and rubbing slow circles with his thumb.

you buried your hands in his hair, pulling at it whenever his thigh twitched or whenever his hands would inch further up

the rhythm of your hips was steady against him and his kisses were like a drug.

eventually, he worked his kisses to your chest again, and his hands came up to gently swipe along the clasp of your bra, looking up at you as if you ask permission to take it off

his lips were swollen and red, he was panting and all you could focus on was the sweet, begging look in his eyes as you nodded, mumbling your consent.

his right hand moved to pinch at your left nipple, the sensitive skin hardening under his oddly gentle touch, while his lips closed around the other, almost hesitantly

you sucked in a breath, eyes fluttering shut in time for his left hand to move down to your core and rub sweet, soft circles on your clit through the fabric of your panties

“s’ okay?” he asked, out of breath and almost immediately returning his attention to your boob while halting his left hand to wait for your response

“yeah- yeah, s’ okay,” you whimpered, basking in all the stimulation he was providing you.

you were still gently rolling your hips, and his fingers worked in unison with that, so you were already inching closer and closer to your orgasm

you wanted to hide away in him, and though merely twenty minutes ago the idea (and reality) of being with him in an enclosed space seemed awful, he was doing well at making you feel the opposite. you wanted to be as close as possible

he took his time, eyes closed peacefully as he brought you to the edge, and eventually over it.

it was ridiculously powerful, especially for how gentle he’d been, and you bit your lip so hard you swore you tasted blood just to keep in your moans.

he brought his lips back up to your own again, hands cradling your jaw and the back of your head while he eased you onto your back, underneath him.

you pulled away from him, looking up into his eyes with an expression you couldn’t explain. he responded with a soft smile, kissing you on the head reassuringly before trailing down your jaw and focusing on your neck

his hands, now gliding along your waist, were warm and the sensation made you feel fuzzy.

“so gentle,” you stated, words coming out as a half confused whisper. his lips formed a smile against your collarbone and he pulled back a few inches, glancing up at you for a quick second

“i can be,” was his response. you blinked, taking his hands in your own and moving them to your hips, his thumb conveniently nudging at the waistband of your underwear

he moved back up so your heads were level, licking his lips before looking down by your core, then back up at you.

“i like it,” you replied, delayed but still appreciated. he tried his best not to grin like a fool, his heart feeling full in his chest

you didn’t miss the way the corners of his lips curled up, but he immediately shot them down, keeping his composure

he slid two fingers from each hand into your panties, a questioning look in his eyes and his head tilting slightly. you took a deep breath, breaking eye contact to recuperate before nodding and raising your hips, bringing your eyes back to his.

he tugged them down slowly, giving you a reassuring look before ultimately moving his eyes to where his hands were, breath caught in his throat.

a choked whine came from your throat as the cold air touched newly bare skin, and mark finally let his breath go, shakily.

“oh, baby,” he murmured, eyes somehow becoming darker but softer at the same time

your folds were glistening with both your first release and your arousal, and every touch from his fingers, even featherlight, had you twitching

you took the time he used to work his boxers off and grab protection from his night stand to catch your breath, and let it sink in

everything, how sweet he was being, how well he stimulated you, how satisfying the orgasm was, how had you been asked just yesterday, you’d have said with full confidence he’d probably never made a girl come before

maybe you underestimated his game, or maybe he just cared about you

either way, your heart fluttered involuntarily when he grabbed your hand, interlocked your fingers and rubbed soothing circles along your knuckles while he waited to push into you

when he did, you couldn’t help the surprised noise that came from your lips. not because he hadn’t warned you, but because of the stretch

he took his time, not letting go of your hand, not changing up his pace.

he looked over at you after finally opening his eyes, originally having closed them when he’d bottomed out, to see you already looking at him, eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

your eyes were filled with a look of what he placed as uncertainty, and he smiled, using the hand not holding yours to push your hair back out of your face sweetly, hoping it would reassure you

you just blinked, lips parting in realization; mark truly liked you

you used your free hand to cup the back of his head, connecting your lips once again. he felt all of the previous pressure lift from his shoulders, hips pressing taught against yours and staying there for a moment before he resumed thrusting

you moaned into his mouth, and he hummed in return.

he pulled his lips away from yours, pressing your foreheads together while he gave you one last thrust, the two of you toppling harshly over the edge simultaneously

he hissed, trying to work you through your orgasm while not overstimulating himself, and it was all perfect.

your quiet huffs, struggled moans while you tried to keep quiet for his housemates’ sake, were perfect. the way your thighs twitched was perfect, and the way you hugged onto him when he collapsed onto you was perfect.

he pulled out of you, rolling over and throwing out the condom. you immediately turned onto your side, cuddling into his chest and holding onto him tight.

“y/n?” you hummed, eyes already closed and legs tangling into his

“that wasn’t just, like, a heat of the moment thing, i really- i really, really like you, y/n” you could hear his heart pounding and feel his skin go hot under yours, and you smiled.

you pressed your hand to his chest, feeling his heart slow down significantly under the contact

“are you asking me out, estapa?” you mumbled, earning a chuckle and a sweet kiss on the lips

“if that’s okay with you,” he answered, and you grinned sleepily

“more than okay”

#e’s fics #mark estapa #mark estapa x reader #mark estapa smut #hockey imagine #nhl imagine

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queermania · 11 months ago

Note

Dean does say at one point that it's pointless for Sam to try to keep in touch with his Stanford friends, and eventually calls Dean "anti-social"... which Dean doesn't really argue with:

SAM: I’ve been listenin’, I’m just busy. (He is checking e-mails on his PalmPilot.)

DEAN: Busy doin’ what?

SAM: Reading e-mails. (DEAN gets out of the car and starts to fill the tank with gas.)

DEAN: E-mails from who?

SAM: From my friends at Stanford.

DEAN: You’re kidding. You still keep in touch with your college buddies?

SAM: Why not?

DEAN: Well, what exactly do you tell ‘em? You know, about where you’ve been, what you’ve been doin’?

SAM: I tell ‘em I’m on a road trip with my big brother. I tell ‘em I needed some time off after Jess.

DEAN: Oh, so you lie to ‘em.

SAM: No. I just don’t tell ‘em….everything.

SAM: So, what am I supposed to do, just cut everybody out of my life? (DEAN shrugs.) You’re serious?

DEAN: Yeah, that’s called lying. I mean, hey, man, I get it, tellin’ the truth is far worse.

DEAN: Look, it sucks, but in a job like this, you can’t get close to people, period.

SAM: You’re kind of anti-social, you know that?

DEAN: Yeah, whatever. (SAM continues to read his e-mails.)

Honestly, Dean doesn't strike me as particularly willing to make friendship connections with others unless there is an externally motivating factor.

Benny helped Dean get out of Purgatory. Gordon was a Hunter who was going after the same monster in town as Sam and Dean were, and Castiel was a representative of Heaven first and foremost at his introduction. Dean tried to send Jo Harvelle home rather than let her work a case with them. (And Ellen scolds him because he never told her that he was back from the dead)

I don't think Dean makes connections all that readily with others, unless he's trying to get something out of the other person. He's charming and good at pretending, but ultimately he's focus is usually on the task at hand.

dean: it's kind of pointless to try to maintain a relationship with people you can only ever lie to sam: you're antisocial fandom: this is conclusive evidence

but seriously. does sam end up maintaining a relationship with any of those people? i'm pretty sure the answer is no. and who does he make friendship connections with when there's not an external motivating factor? ruby? nope. jo and ellen? again, no. at least not anymore so than dean does. charlie? nope. dean is the only one who spends time doing non-hunting activities with her in canon. amelia? okay plus one! jody? nope that's just hunting. donna? nope dean is the only one who spends time with her outside of hunting in canon. crowley? nope. cas? nope, again, that's dean's friend. rowena? i would say rowena counts but under your definition, she doesn't. eileen is fifty-fifty because he does spend non-hunting time with her but he only got to know her because of hunting. even the AW hunters are functional, not personal.

so what are we basing all of this on? vibes? just this one conversation in season one where sam says something and dean doesn't dispute it?

tbh i think the entire argument is weak in and of itself. benny is the only one you named who even fits your parameters in my opinion. like, yeah sure dean only met gordon because they were working the same case but i don't think his behavior suggests he's only having a drink with him as a work obligation. his behavior suggests he's excited to have a drink with him because he can be honest and actually connect with him. i'm not really sure why trying to send jo home from a hunt she wasn't invited on and as far as he knows isn't equipped to handle is evidence of dean being antisocial but i guess we'll have to agree to disagree on that one. and the mere fact that dean formed a bond with cas kind of disproves your argument. he did that in spite of cas's ties to heaven, not because of them.

i just... i don't even know how to have this argument because it's so fundamentally flawed. there is evidence spilling out across fifteen seasons that dean enjoys making and maintaining personal connections: lee, the entirety of lebanon, sonny, cassie, lisa (before the s6 of it all at least), that bartender he winked at that he clearly knows, etc. but you've taken something sam said (dean is antisocial) and then used that lens to interpret every relationship he has, instead of looking at every relationship he has and interpreting what that says about him.

#replies #anonymous #dw #sw

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arkhelios-gameplay · 6 months ago

Text

“Oh.” Pelle put down his slice of pizza, desperately trying to swallow the piece he had started chewing on as quick as he could. There was a long pause until he managed to. “I’m so sorry for your loss,” he said earnestly. He had certainly not been close to Fabio himself, and Pia gave far from glowing reviews on his behavior at home, but a son was a son.

“I thought it may be best that I tell Pia myself, rather than on the phone as I did with Jolanda,” he explained. “Unless Jolanda has called her herself already…”

“I don’t believe she has,” Pelle said. “She would’ve told me.” He was relatively certain of it, at least. “I’m sure she knows I would want to know.”

“No matter,” Giovanni said. “It made me realize our time is limited and I should spend more time with my children. And grandchildren.”

Pelle nodded. “Family is important,” he said. “I don’t talk even nearly enough to my parents and siblings, even though I should. Life just gets in the way. I’m sure it did for you too.”

Giovanni took another sip of coffee before replying. “Yes,” he said. “I’ve had a lot of work to do on the lab and in my… Other activities.”

Pelle took another bite of the pizza. “Other activities?”

“I’ve been quite engaged in political activities,” he said. “You might’ve seen it.”

Pelle shook his head. “I stay far away from all that,” he said. “Only trouble. I can talk about animal rights, but that’s it.”

Giovanni looked at him, then shrugged. “It’s true,” he noted. “Plenty of trouble.”

“But I know you were in the original city council,” Pelle said. “When Abraham Helios ran the town.”

“Oh, I was,” Giovanni said, smiling. “I was his opponent and his ally both.”

Pelle, pretending to care, nodded along as he kept eating pizza.

“We all agreed on making ourselves as independent as we could from SimCity,” Giovanni continued. “We all agreed our freedoms had to be protected. However…” He clenched his fist as he spoke. “To succeed, we all had to make sacrifices. Agree to disagree. Etch things into the law we might later come to regret. And Salem Bellamy was given way more influence than public opinion should’ve allowed him to.” Giovanni bit his lip as he pondered the past. “Perhaps I wasn’t the most respectful in my criticism of him and Abraham. Perhaps I didn’t hold the most polite tone. But why should I? Why should I be ‘calm’ and ‘neutral’ while he demands outrageous legislations?”

Pelle, feeling uncomfortable with the conversation veering into topics too vague for him to know anything about, stood up abruptly. “I have a job interview,” he lied. “One of many lined up. I hate to leave you all alone here in the kitchen, but I didn’t expect this spontaneous visit, so I didn’t know to schedule around it.”

“No problem,” Giovanni said, taking another sip of coffee.

“It’s a job interview through the computer,” Pelle continued. He picked up the pizza box with one hand and grabbed the laptop with the other. Getting the oil from the pizza on his laptop made him cringe, but he was too much in a hurry to escape the conversation to wash his hands before grabbing it. “Come on, Sigurd, I don’t want you bothering Uncle Gio.”

#arkhelios #pelle nykvist #giovanni rivales #sigurd nykvist #sims 2 #the sims 2

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imagine-loki · 2 years ago

Text

🚨 CAUTION/TRIGGER WARNING: Name-Calling; Verbal Abuse

Imagine walking hand-in-hand with Loki when the two of you overhear Odin berating Frigga as a “nagging shrew.”

You ache for her, naturally, unable to imagine what it must be like to endure such a thing from one’s own husband.

Loki is visibly furious. He remembers hearing all this back when he was little. He remembers Frigga blinking back her tears and putting on a brave, happy smile for her boys.

He remembers how much worse it was for everyone whenever he or Thor tried to speak up for their mother.

Odin finishes his diatribe, and Frigga leaves. As she walks past you both, you notice an undeniable pink tinge just below her eyes.

She reaches out for Loki’s free hand and gives a squeeze. “Control yourself,” she says softly.

With that, she leaves.

Loki holds you close. “Don’t fret, love.” He kisses your temple. “I would never.”

You know he means it.

The day comes that Loki is crowned king. He looks at you, as if he’s even happier about you becoming queen.

A part of you doesn’t quite grasp the concept of being queen, though.

Decisions are made and diplomacy meetings are conducted with mostly Loki’s input. Not that he doesn’t listen to you. He certainly would if you said anything.

But you don’t.

Loki tries another tactic. Maybe he can force you to speak. “Well, before we finalize anything, we should hear from the Queen of Asgard.”

You gulp, wide-eyed.

“(Name)? Darling? What do you think?”

“I-I… I think your idea is marvelous, dear.”

He frowns. Not what he was wanting, but at least you’ve spoken.

That night, as you ready yourselves for bed, your husband confronts you on the matter.

“I know you have opinions. So why don’t you voice them?”

You shrug.

Loki sighs. “It’s not a crime to have your own thoughts, you know.”

“I know, I know… It’s just… You’re my husband, and - on top of that - you’re King of Asgard.”

“So?”

You flop your face against his sternum with a tired groan. “So, I should defer to you. I have to set a good example for the other Asgardian wives, Loki. What would they think if I disagreed with you?”

“What if I agreed with you instead?”

“Excuse me?”

It’s such a neat little system. You voice your thoughts to Loki ahead of time, he presents it to the diplomats by saying something about how “The King and Queen of Asgard feel it would be in everyone’s best interests if…” Insert negotiation here.

There’s an important caucus coming up, and this time, the two of you can’t quite see eye to eye. In fact, he won’t even carry out the charade of pretending you both have the same idea.

When you disagree at the meeting, things get tense fast. Not a word is spoken besides the two of you debating.

A nobleman soon has to adjourn the assembly before you start screaming at each other.

“What was that?!” Loki demands once you’re in private.

“I know you’re not asking me that! What about that nonsense you were spouting, hm? If we have to agree on a decision, it should at least be an intelligent decision!”

“Are you calling me stupid?!”

“Oh, nooo! Just your ideas!”

“Why, you…”

Time seems to freeze in that moment.

Loki’s jaw slowly closes on his own tongue as reason takes over and begs him to silence the words before he regrets them.

“Say it, Loki. Nagging shrew.”

#submission #Imagine #Loki #Lover #Others #God of Mischief #Angst #taniismean #verbal abuse #trigger warning

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etoilehistoire · 1 year ago

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So the Whumptober prompt for 10/27 is "scars," and I couldn't help thinking about how vain Astarion is about his beauty (because it's all he really thinks he has to offer, all that's kept him alive for so long) and how horrified he'd be at the possibility of facial scars that threatened said beauty.

And then I thought about my "Tav," Xia, and how she has horrific facial scars that make her very unattractive, and how she might comfort someone dealing with that fear.

And so this was born. The premise: someone, some old enemy of Astarion's (working for Cazador? The sibling of someone he seduced and betrayed? Someone else, working for their own reasons? Dealer's choice, really), found and captured him and decided, not to kill him, but to torment him in ways he would never forget and that would leave lasting scars. And indeed, by the time the party found him he was messed up pretty bad, but it had already begun to heal, meaning that even with the benefit of healing magic the scars remain. Upset, he retreats to his tent; Xia follows.

I originally planned to write the whole thing - the abduction, the torture, the rescue - but I realized that I only really WANTED to write this conversation, and that fanfic has no rules and I can do what I want forever. So here we go.

“Don’t look at me.”

A sigh from behind him. “I’m not going away.”

Xia. Of course it was Xia.

It shouldn’t matter. It mattered.

A minute passed in silence before she spoke again. “You lost a lot of blood.” A pause, barely perceptible. “Do you need to…”

She’d never offered before, not since that first night. She’d never said no, but she never offered. Not until now. He should be touched. Instead he interrupted her, cutting the question short. “No.”

Silence again, so profound that he wondered if she’d somehow left the tent without him noticing.

Then, barely more than a whisper, she began speaking again. "...I was never beautiful. Not like you. I didn’t have as much to lose. And what happened to me… it wasn’t deliberate. It wasn’t torture. So I won’t say I understand. Not everything.” A pause, and when she resumed her voice was just the tiniest bit shakier, the tiniest bit less composed. “But I remember what it felt like. How it hurt when it happened. How it felt to know the marks would never fade from my face, that it would always be the first thing anyone saw about me.”

A soft noise escaped him, not quite a whimper. When he trusted his voice again he asked, “How do you live with it?”

There was a rustling sound; his mind provided the image of her diffident, one-shouldered shrug. “A few ways. Reminding myself that anyone who thinks less of me for being ugly isn’t someone whose opinion I need to care about.”

“You’re not ugly.” He blurted it out, surprising himself, but… well, it was true. “I just mean. Your scars, they’re just… they’re part of your face. They don’t make you ugly.”

“Hmm.” An amused sound, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. “In that case, maybe yours won’t either.” Her hand touched his shoulder – a warm, reassuring weight. “Star. Let me see.”

Childishly, he wanted to refuse still, but what would be the point? Unless he left the group forever she’d see it eventually. He steeled himself, closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to see her reaction… and turned.

Silence.

Then gentle fingers on his face, tracing the lines he’d felt himself, running lightly over twisted skin. He forced himself not to shudder away, enduring when she tilted his head, examining him from different angles.

“Honestly?” she said after a long moment. “It’s not that bad.”

He scoffed, outrage immediately flooding him, and his eyes snapped open. “Not that bad?? He carved my face like a game hen! He burned me!”

Her eyes continued to roam over his face, critical, almost clinical. “The knife marks healed nicely. The lines are there, but they don’t look bad. Just like lines.” Her thumb brushed over his upper lip and he winced, remembering how the sharp knife had left him slashed and bleeding. “These… if I didn’t know better I’d think they were decorative. They’re delicate enough.”

She nodded, dark eyes calm. “He did. You’ve got visible burn marks here,” she said, brushing his temple, “and here. They’re not discolored, though, so they don’t stand out much." Not like hers, she didn’t say, but Astarion thought it anyway. "You got lucky.” Her mouth twisted in wry acknowledgement of the untruth in that. “Relatively speaking, I mean. As burn scars go.”

Her gaze traveled up. “The hair… I won’t lie, I miss your hair,” she admitted with a shrug, and he shuddered. “We’ll have to shave off the bits that are left – it looks messy like this.” She met his eyes, curious. “Will it grow back? Does your hair grow?”

He nodded slowly. “Not as fast as when I was alive. But with enough blood… yes.”

“Then we’ll make sure you get enough blood,” she said, amusement coloring her tone. “Not that you won’t be perfectly charming bald, but you’ll feel more like yourself with your hair back.” One gentle finger brushed over his exposed scalp. “It won’t grow where the scars are, but they’re small. They won’t be visible once it's long enough.”

Then she cupped his face in her hands, ducking down to look him in the eyes. “Star. The scars make your face more interesting. That’s all. You’re still beautiful. Always.”

His doubt must have shown in his eyes, because she shook her head even though he didn’t say a word. “No. Stop that. I’m not polite or tactful, and you know it. I would tell you if you weren’t, and do you know why?” She graced him with a small smile. “Because I don’t actually think it would be the end of the world if you were ugly.”

He closed his eyes then, the words – the possibility – twisting in his heart. “I don’t,” she repeated. “Star, that’s the other part of how I live with it. I know – I know – that my face is the least important part of me. I know that I have worth, and that that worth has nothing to do with being beautiful.”

“You do,” he replied, and ugh, it came out so bitter and ugh, he’d put far more emphasis on you than he’d meant to.

Her voice softened. “As do you.”

“Do I?” Eyes flying open, he stepped back, away from her gentle hands. Turned away from her. Words he’d held back for some time now were on the verge of spilling out, and it would be easier if he didn’t have to look at her when he said them. “Ah yes, the vampire spawn. I bring you so much value. All my enemies are yours, with bonus blood loss and a sore neck on a regular basis. Lucky you.” He laughed, a high, strangled noise. “I can offer you so much! Doesn’t a lifetime in the dark and the shadows sound appealing? Hiding with me during the day, never seeing the sun again once we deal with the tadpole? Being hunted by my former master and his minions, living in fear of any monster hunter who spots my fangs and decides I’m a monstrous thing that should be killed with impunity? Or how about being my own personal snack cabinet, forever? I’m certain that appeals!” His voice caught. “I don’t even… I don’t bring you physical pleasure. Xia. The only thing I’ve ever really had to offer you is my rather substantial beauty, and if that’s gone… how long?” He didn’t look back at her, didn’t acknowledge the tears forming in his eyes. Forced his voice to stay steady. “How long before your kindness and pity for this pathetic charity case runs out? How long before you realize how much better off you are without me?”

Silence reigned. He didn’t care. He felt scraped out, hollow, all the words he’d sworn he’d never say out loud just laying there in the dirt between them.

Eventually, Xia broke the silence, clearing her throat loudly. “You are… obviously having a rough time,” she said, a new note of steel sounding in her voice. “So I will let it slide, for the moment, that you called the man I love a pathetic charity case.”

He whirled, eyes wide, startled out of his misery for a moment – she’d never used that word before. Dark eyes met his, hard and fiery. “Yes, I’m kind. Yes, I’m sworn to help those who need it. That might make me stand with you against Cazador. It might make me offer you my blood. It wouldn’t make me sleep next to you night after night. It wouldn’t make me seek out your company, or hold your hand, or stay up late to sing with you by the fire when everyone else has gone to bed. It wouldn’t make me actively look for ways to make you happy, for gifts that might please you, for opportunities to make you smile.” Her eyes narrowed. “It wouldn’t make me say I love you. And I do. I love you. I didn’t think it needed to be said out loud, I thought I was fairly obvious, but apparently it does. I love you. For reasons that have precisely nothing to do with how pretty you are or what I think you can give me.”

He was staring openly by this point. “Why?” he finally managed, his voice strained.

She lifted shining eyes to meet his again. “We will deal with your enemies. We’ll deal with Cazador. And when the tadpoles are taken care of we'll find another way for you to walk in the sun, and until we do I will gladly walk with you in the night. After all.” One corner of her mouth quirked up. “The night is full of stars.”

She smiled sadly. “Why does anyone love anyone? I like being with you. I like being around you. You make me happy. I like your jokes, the way you talk. I like the way you move and fight. I like the masks you wear and the lies you tell – they’re fun! – and I like the glimpses you let me see of the real you behind them." He swallowed hard, the words ricocheting through his head, a feeling very much like fear - but not fear, something wilder and deeper - stirring inside him.

She wasn't done. "I like that you’re still fighting even after going through so much. I like that you can still be brave. I like that you can still be kind, even if it’s only now and then – it’s more than most people could, after everything you’ve been through.” Her eyes dropped. “I like the way I feel when I’m with you. Safe. Strong. Calm. Like everything will be okay in the end, as long as you’re by my side. Astarion, not only would my life not be better without you, it would be significantly, terrifyingly worse.”

Gods, he loved her. The realization settled into place like tumblers aligning in a lock, the way they were always meant to fit. “I…”

The words caught in his throat. Nine Hells, why was this so hard? He’d said the words a thousand times without meaning them; why should they be so difficult the one time he did?

Without changing her expression, Xia raised one eyebrow, slowly. He could feel the amusement radiating off of it. “Yes, all right, no need to be like that,” he complained. “Maybe it’s hard for me to say it, but. Yes. That. What you said. The same.”

“I know,” she said mildly. “Unlike some people, I can read between the lines.”

Despite his best efforts, a slow smile spread across his face. If she was teasing him, then all was right with the world. He stepped back towards her. “You’d really love me if I were ugly?”

“Gods, I almost wish you were.” An eyeroll really had no right to be so expressive. “Do you have any idea how intimidating you are? You act like you’re not worthy of me, but you do know that anyone who sees us together is going to think you’re excruciatingly out of my league?” She gave him a dry, baleful glare. “You could have gotten ugly scars, like a normal person, but no. You had to continue to be ridiculously, painfully pretty. Even now that you’ve joined the facial scar club, you’ve got me beat.”

“I don’t know about that,” he said, stepping forward to wrap his arms around her waist. “Your scars look beautiful to me.”

“And that’s how I know you love me,” she shot back, comfortably. “Because that is objectively untrue, but you believe it anyway.” She wrapped her own arms around him. “I told the others we were taking a day off. That you needed time to recover.” She smiled. “Want to recover via cuddling?”

“Yes,” he replied immediately. “Yes I do. Lots and lots of cuddling, and also pampering, and maybe you can remind me how my new scars make me look more beautiful?”

She laughed, leaning her forehead against his. “I can do that. Again and again. As many times as you need, I can do that.”

#whumptober 2023 #no. 27 #scars #baldur's gate 3 #fic #self-worth issues #love confessions #xia!tav #etoilewrites #angst/comfort #hurt/comfort #now with added editing!#one day i will learn to edit BEFORE i post but that day is not today

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clericofshadows · 2 years ago

Text

late night conversations

Description: Up late at night and unable to sleep, Regis runs into Ashley, and they have a conversation about many things.

Context: Takes place sometime after something to look forward to but probably can be read without reading it beforehand. It gives context to some of the conversations in the fic. Picture mostly here for flavor. I was going to reinstall my flycam mod to get a picture of them in conversation... but I misplaced my edited Coalesced so here’s this instead.

Pairing: Kaidan Alenko/Regis Shepard

Warnings: None, although Regis does not have a high opinion of Vakarian, and discusses why he chose not to recruit him.

“Can’t sleep?” Ashley asked as she joined him at the mess table, sitting across from him.

“Side effects of my L2 implants. Kaidan gets debilitating migraines, and while I do as well, I also get bouts of insomnia.” Regis sighed, tapping his fingers on the table. “What has you up late?”

She turned away from him. “Nightmares.” She didn’t elaborate, nor did Regis ask her to. If she wanted to talk, Regis would gladly oblige, but he could tell by her curt tone she was done talking about it.

Regis nodded. “We’ve seen some shit these past few missions. I’m here if you need me.”

“I know. You are a damn good CO, Shepard.”

“Thank you.” He cleared his throat, not really knowing how to respond to the compliment. “Want some tea?” He gestured over to the kitchenette. “It helps me.”

She shrugged. “Sure. I’ve never been much of a tea drinker but who am I to pass up an opportunity for you to do something for me.”

Regis rolled his eyes as he stood up from the table. “Well, you’ve never had my tea before, so maybe I’ll change your mind.”

He leaned against the counter after grabbing and preparing his preferred blend for nighttime relaxation, waiting for the water to boil. She joined him, crossing her arms against her chest. “I’m surprised Alenko didn’t come out with you.”

Regis smiled, setting out two mugs. “He’s a heavy sleeper, but if I don’t come back to bed in a bit, I wouldn’t be surprised if he pings my omni tool.” “Probably wondering why you didn’t just wake him up in the first place.”

“Yeah, well, I hate to disturb his rest. It’s a point we agree to disagree on.”

“I swear you two act like newlyweds, but haven’t you been together for a long time?” Ashley asked.

“Ten years, give or take, but this is the first time in a while we’ve been together for an extended period of time,” Regis said, taking the kettle and pouring the water in the mugs. “Got together a few years after biotic training, joined the Alliance together, and now we’re here.”

“Damn. I’ll get the full story out of you eventually.” She whistled.

“Maybe after I’ve gotten some sleep.” Regis huffed out a laugh. “We’ve been there for each other for so long, and while the Alliance definitely complicated things, we were able to power through it.”

“And now you’re here, abusing your Spectre benefits so you two can share a bed together,” she echoed, nudging his arm. “I would offer to go ring shopping with you, but something tells me you already have that figured out.”

Regis pulled out his dog tags from underneath his sweater. “I do.”

A black tungsten band with tree branch engravings rested next to his dog tags on the chain. Originally belonging to his father, it was one of the few things Regis had of his.

Atlas Shepard died in a freak shuttle accident before Regis was born, and he mourned the loss of what could’ve been. His father was earthborn, something Regis wished he was able to claim.

Instead, he was born in space on his mother’s ship, and rarely was able to spend time on Earth with his father’s family.

He took off the chain and handed it to her. “It’s beautiful,” she said. “I think it would fit him well.”

“Thank you. It belonged to my father,” Regis explained, taking the chain back from her. “He died before I was born, but my mother gave me his ring when I turned eighteen. He always kept his actual ring safe with her, even when they were apart, going for the tattooed option instead. I’ve worn it on me ever since.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she said. “I didn’t know.”

He shrugged, moving to remove the tea bags from the mugs. “It’s not something I talk about much, so don’t worry about it. Even the scarves that Kaidan and I wear are because of him, something he put on his own armor to set himself apart.”

He held out a mug to her. She took it with a smile.

“I would offer to give you a hug, but I’m not sure it’s something you want.”

Regis pulled her into a side hug. “I appreciate the thought, now try your tea.”

She took a sip after squeezing him back. “Not bad, Skipper.”

“Thank you.” He replied, taking a long sip of his. Just what he needed.�� A warm drink with a friend.

“You can tell me to fuck off if I’m overstepping, but are those tattoos on your right arm because of that ring?” She asked after a moment of silence.

He nodded. “Yeah. Based on the Yggdrasil tree. Makes me feel like I’m connected to Earth and to him.”

“Just like the scarf, so you could connect yourself to LT and to your dad,” She observed. “Making him part of your family.”

“And one day I’ll order you a scarf and make you a part of it officially,” he said, smirking at how she nearly choked on her tea.

“Seriously?” She asked, hesitant, after clearing her throat and setting down the mug.

“Of course. You are part of my crew, and I’d like to consider you a friend.”

“You really do care,” she smiled. If he looked closely, perhaps he could see a little wetness gathering around her eyes. He chose to ignore it.

“Black and blue would look good,” he continued. “I’ll see to it after this mission is done. Maybe even get you a nice, requisitioned set of gear since I’m also recommending you for the N program.”

She blinked a few times in surprise. “I need to sit down,” she said, walking back over to the table. “Why? Why all this for me?”

“Because you are a damn good soldier who doesn’t deserve the shit you’ve been given. If my word can help you climb out of the hole, then why shouldn’t I give you that chance? Your marksman scores rival my own, you work excellent under pressure, and you’ve grown to work well with a diverse team. As your CO, it’s an obvious decision,” Regis explained, rejoining her at the table. “I don’t do this lightly, as I’m sure you’ve heard the stories of my teaching days. You’ve earned it.”

She took a deep, shuddering breath. “God, Shepard, you really know how to catch someone off guard. And in the middle of the night? I’ll be more coherent about this after I’ve slept on it.”

“But do you accept it?” Regis asked. “I am sorry for springing this on you, but it’s something I’ve been preparing for a while. Anderson is also backing me on this.”

She blinked a few times before breaking out into a smile. “Hell yeah I accept, but give me time to really think about it, y’know?”

“As much time as you need.”

Ashley finished off her tea, pushing the mug to the side. “This was not how I expected this conversation to go.”

Regis chuckled. “Well, how did you think it was going to go?”

“Thought I was going to get more juicy Shepard secrets out of you, but instead you render me speechless.”

“Well, I’ll let you ask another question. Maybe two.” He winked, finishing his tea. “It’s only fair since I’ve learned a lot about you and your family. Ask away.”

She glanced down at the dog tags still resting against his sweater. "You know, I'm curious. Why didn't you recruit that C-Sec officer, Vakarian?"

With the way she kept glancing at his dog tags, he didn't expect her to go down that route, but it was a valid question. “I had a hunch about him that I didn’t like. Way too insistent he was right about Saren but had fuck all to prove it. After gaining my status and grabbing Tali and Wrex, I realized I never followed through on his lead. So, I used my status to access his file, see what kind of officer he was.”

“I’m guessing you didn’t like what you saw.”

“No. Evidence tampering, witness coercion. Hell, even assault, among other things. A loose cannon like that on my crew? He would see justice as a means to an end, any way necessary,” Regis explained, shaking his head. “Disappointing, but ultimately, I saw him as a liability. If he can’t handle the rules of C-Sec, I doubt he would have followed my orders in the end.”

“He probably just heard ‘Butcher of Torfan’ and thought you would be all for it,” she said.

“I never made that decision lightly.” He looked away. “I embraced it, but it has pinned me as someone who will get the job done, no matter the cost. While that may be true sometimes, it’s something I try to avoid.” He sighed. “Yes, I imagine he had a certain image of me.”

“I gave the order knowing damn well it was the only way out. I took the fall so everyone else would survive, while I became the monster. The demon. The Butcher. But the families of the dead know what I did for them, what I sacrificed to make sure they got what they deserved, to ensure their loved ones died with honor and not the shame of my order. The thing is? I wasn’t the only one in support of it, but I made damn sure that the Alliance thought it was only me. And look what it gave me. Scars, a path to N7, and a title that makes my mother hate me even more.”

Regis ranted to Kaidan after the events and trials of Torfan, hoping the other man would understand why he did what he did. What it did to him. Kaidan listened and continued to support him, despite everything.

The promise to have each other’s back was not about to be broken that day.

“You’re a good man, Shepard. Don’t let that title force you into being something else. I’ve seen the way you think, and I can tell you weigh all the options before jumping in. It’s what I respect about you,” she said, finishing off her tea. “Sorry for bringing it up.” More surprised she hadn’t already brought it up, he waved it off.

“Go on, ask what you really wanted to ask. Don’t think I didn’t see you looking at my tags,” Regis said, teasing a little.

She rolled her eyes. “Fine, but you asked for it. Do you ever worry about losing that ring if something were to happen?”

He raised an eyebrow, surprised she went there of all places, but he obliged. “Sometimes. I don’t like the idea of dying somewhere I cannot be retrieved, but once I had this ring, I didn’t want to part with it. Then, once Kaidan and I made it official, I knew I wanted to give it to him one day. Either way, if something does happen, he’s the one that ends up with everything of mine. I just hope it never comes to that.”

“Thank you for telling me that, I guess I was just wondering how you thought about the ‘what ifs.’ Not sure what came over me there.” She rubbed at her neck, looking a little embarrassed.

Regis took a stab at it. “Might it have something to do with your nightmare?”

“Maybe.” She sighed and stood up from the table. “I really need to try and get some more sleep. You should too.”

He could guess about what it was really about. She’s the sole survivor of her squad on Eden Prime. No time to give them the respect they deserved. Some even put into research to find out what the geth were capable of and how to defend against it.

Regis did not want that to be his fate. An experiment. He remembered the look Ashley gave him when he ensured Bhatia got his wife’s body back. One of surprise and respect, probably thinking he would’ve instead denied the man’s request.

Would it have helped the Alliance? Likely.

At that moment? Regis did not care for what the Alliance wanted.

“Yes, he definitely should. Love, get your ass back to bed, please.” Kaidan emerged from his quarters, his hair mussed up and curling, looking more than a little annoyed.

Oops.

Ashley laughed. “Told you so! Good talk, Shepard. Next time, let’s do it at a more reasonable time.”

“I make no promises,” he said, moving to put the mugs in the sink to be dealt with later. “Good night, Ash.”

She nodded and headed back to the crew quarters.

Kaidan stood outside the door with his arms crossed. “Told you to wake me.”

“And you know I never will, Kaidan.” Regis yawned. “Shit, it’s going to be a long day tomorrow.”

“Whose fault is that?” Kaidan reentered their quarters; Regis followed behind him.

“My damn implant’s.” Regis muttered, removing his sweater and his fatigues, leaving him in his boxers.

Kaidan rolled his eyes, deftly removing his uniform and crawling back under the covers. “In any case, did you have a good talk with Ashley?”

Regis settled in next to him, putting Kaidan’s arm around him, snuggling in close. “Yeah. Told her about the N recommendation, among other things.”

“Hmm. How did she take it?” Kaidan asked, holding Regis tightly. Clingy bastard.

“Shocked but well overall. I really do think she has the potential to succeed in the program.”

“I agree. Now, go to sleep, Regis.”

“You do too, you know.”

“Yes, love.”

“You’re ignoring me, aren’t you.”

“Because I want you to get some sleep. Need me to grab your meds?” Kaidan turned around to face him, cupping Regis’s face in his hand. “I just worry about you.”

A part of Regis wanted to go ahead and just give Kaidan the ring right then and there, wrapped up in his love and support, but he wanted to do it in front of their family, surrounded by their friends and loved ones.

Regis leaned into the touch. “I know. I’ll be fine.”

“Right. Next time, wake me.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too. That’s not a yes.”

“It’s not a no!” Regis smiled and yawned once again. “Alright fine, I’ll get some sleep.” He leaned in and pecked Kaidan on the lips.

They wrapped their arms around each other, and soon Regis fell asleep listening to his lover’s breathing, content within his arms.

#regis shepard #mass effect #mshenko #ashley williams #cleric's writing #mass effect fanfiction #good conversations were had but sprinkled with by usual tragic implications :)#i swear it hurts me too #kaidan alenko

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independentzaun · 2 years ago

Note

Drinking game: Sevika would bang Vi if they weren't enemies.

Drinking Game: Every time you send an opinion that my muse hates or disagrees with, they will have to take a shot of strong liquor (mun can elaborate if it's vodka, whiskey, etc.): Still accepting

With all three of them well past drunk at this point it took a moment for anyone to answer. First was Jinx who shook her head. “Sevika like...that’s not...Sevika and Vi?...That wouldn’t happen. It’s stupid. Sevika can’t have Vi. She’s...my sister...Vi’s important...isn’t she? But, she doesn’t...can’t love me any more. Not like...used to. So...fucking… Better Sevika than stupid, sister stealing, enforcer...big hatted bitch caity…” Voice drifty and uncertain Jinx licked at her lips than shrugged. “They wouldn’t bang. Both too… judgy, and fighty, and argue and yell and…” Letting go of her stomach Jinx actually let out a whine of protest as she poured another shot, and downed it. Even with shimmer in her, being 5’3” and skinny and not used to alcohol she was on the verge of being black out drunk.

Silco couldn’t be bothered to move as he lay against the sofa just feeling the alcohol hitting his system. “Sev an Vi? It’d happen… Sev would bang Vi I think. Some…” Shaking his head a bit Silco waved a hand. “Don’t know. Butch teaching younger butch, thing?…” Shrugging his hand moved back to rub at Jinx’s back who was currently making some odd noises.

Sevika held up a hand. “I...fucking...have to take another shot…” Slowly she sat up staring at the increasingly empty bottle of rum with distaste. At this point even she didn’t really want to have to drink more. “Cause you see…. I’d bang Vi right now even being enemies. I’d shove her against a wall, and...anyways… I’d do it either way so technically. That opinion is wrong.” If she wasn’t so drunk she likely would have shrugged and agreed. With how far gone she was though Sevika was a bit argumentative and reached for the rum taking another shot.

All of a sudden Jinx’s noises got louder, and she moved forward away from the sofa and thankfully Sevika as her stomach voided itself down onto the carpeted floor. Back arching, and body tensing by the time she stopped there was nothing left in her stomach. Silco managed to grab her braids, and pull them back so nothing got on them while patting at her and murmuring half spoken words. Sevika just scooted to one side to get further away from the sick, and shoved the rum bottle away. She did not give a fuck if there were more opinions she was done for the night, and just grabbed a pillow from the sofa before flopping onto the floor.

Jinx ended stretched out across the sofa, and Silco stumbled his way around the house getting a damp rag to clean off Jinx’s face before flopping onto the sofa as well and passing out next to Jinx.

No one was taking any more shots that evening.

Silco: 8 shots

Jinx: 9 shots

Sevika: 11 shots

~~The next drinking game ask will reset the shots counter~~

#silcoanswers #sevikaanswers #jinxanswers

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countlessrealities · 2 years ago

Text

@sinruby sent: 🍓 What is something you and the mun disagree on? (for Rick!) ❄ Did the mun ever forced you to do something you didn’t want to do? (for Bill) 🙏 Do you think the mun would be able to survive in your world? (for Mabel) Muses talking about the mun || Accepting !

“S-Something? How about everything?” Rick blows out a displeased breath. “I-I’d have an easier time to pick something we agree on, b-because that’s a fuckin’ short list. An-And I’m not even considering all the shit they do in real life, b-because I have opinions on that too. B-But I get fuckin’ bonked or-or sprayed with cold water whenever I address it, s-so...I’m leaving it alone. N-Not worth the trouble.”

He shrugs casually, but the annoyed frown on his face tells that he isn’t so happy with just leaving the subject be.

“I-I could say the same shit Morty said, a-about Scotty wanting to shove angst an-and bad shit down my throat, b-because they really want to do it, b-but I don’t want to be repetitive. E-Even if it irks the hell out of me. I-Isn’t my fuckin’ backstory tragic enough? N-Not for them, apparently.”

An eyeroll. “I-If I had to pick...W-We disagree a lot on the best way to approach new RP partners. I-I always tell them to just shove me in their inbox or-or whatever, an-and who cares if they didn’t tell them which muses they want. S-Sucks to be them, we pick. B-But they are so fuckin’ awkward an-and end up just sitting there an-and waiting and pushing their stupid interest checker on dash, h-hoping that people will get their heads out of their asses. W-Well, fuck, they should fuckin’ get that it doesn’t work. M-My strategy is much better. T-They should try it. I-I mean, what’s the worst that can happen? T-The other person ignores the ask. B-Big deal. An-And they can always...”

“If you’re done, Rick, it’s my turn,” Bill cuts in, sing song tone both cheerful and threatening at the same time. “We get it. Your ego is so big that it will wilt and die like a cheap flower if it isn’t constantly put in the spotlight. Now remove yourself and your insecurities.”

A loud and angry HEY! echoes from the background, but Bill merely ignores it.

“Now, where were we? Ah, yes. Something I was forced to do against my will? Waiting for that cretin to finish rambling.” His only eye rolls slowly in the socket. “Aside from that, nothing major. I do whatever I want. We made a deal, me and the mun. And I’ll keep my side as long as they keep theirs. As simple as that. Shooting Star, you’re up!”

Mabel lets out a sigh. “...I wish Scotty had kept the asks separated. Or that they had let me go before those two.”

She doesn’t like to be mean, but both Bill and Rick deserve it, even if for different reasons.

“Uh, would Scotty survive in Gravity Falls? I think so. I mean, Weirdmageddon aside, the other creatures...you can handle them, as long as you know what you’re dealing with and as long as you pay enough attention. Dip-Dip and I managed, and we’re just 12, so...Give them a journal and I’m sure they’ll manage. They’ll get a few bruises and some scares, but yeah. I think they might actually have fun! And they can be as unhinged as Grunkle Stan was with those zombie and know martial arts, so...that helps. Not to mention that they wouldn’t have to do it alone, because there’d be us to help! I think it would be great to have them on the team!”

#[ ic :: c137 Rick ]#[ ic :: Mabel ]#[ ic :: Bill ]#[ ic :: fourth wall break ]#sinruby #[[ if you're getting the impression that Rick and I butt heads a lot ]]#[[ you're definitely right xD ]]#[[ no comment Bill -eyeroll- ]]#[[ but at least Mabel was nice ]]#[[ also I hope you don't mind that I put all the asks in the same post! ]]

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polyamorouspunk · 5 months ago

Note

i mean the shrug emoji response you gave that other ask

Oh I just didn’t have anything to add on. I don’t mind posting other people’s opinions, but not every opinion needs me to add something on to it. I don’t agree or disagree with your take, I think it’s a take and it doesn’t need my opinion one way or another.

#punk gets mail

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annarts05 · 2 years ago

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How to Write What You Want

Okay. So. This is pretty easy, and also really fun to do in my opinion!! You can do any of these first, and you don’t have to do all of them. When I’m sick of writing or stressing about it, I love to do some of these and just have fun with it :)))

Choose your theme.

Figure out what the theme for your story is going to be.

The theme is basically the lesson you’re trying to teach your audience without being preachy. The way we do is through characters. We watch characters go through some crap and learn a lesson, changing for better or worse. The lesson, the thing your characters learn or stand for, is your theme.

Figure out what you want to show the world.

Whether your characters have negative, positive, or flat arcs, there should be a lesson for the audience to see. The character doesn’t necessarily have to agree with that lesson, as shown by villain plots where characters choose the wrong path. Audiences can still see that they chose the wrong path, and the theme is still visible.

So just...what do you want to teach an audience?

Write whatever lesson you want.

Write it down.

Create your characters.

You can make lists of things you want in characters, different personality ideas, physical description rants, whatever you want.

Got an idea for a character?

Write it down.

Make a list of your favorite tropes and clichés.

Clichés are okay. You might disagree, but I believe that tropes are excellent. They exist for a reason. People love certain stories, and they want to read more just like them. If we didn’t do tropes, where would readers find those stories?

You can make a list of your favorite tropes, whether they be quests, found family, certain character dynamics, anything you love to read in all your favorite books to see in movies.

Make a list. I dare you. Pick a few.

Write a book.

Any location ideas.

If you have a location idea...write it down.

Abandoned castle? River? Big boat? Rowboat? A specific inn? A kingdom? Two kingdoms? More kingdoms?

Shrug. It’s your story.

Any random ideas.

Write. Down. Any. And. Every. Ideas. You. Have.

Literally anything you want. Any random ideas you have. Write them down. If you want trees, hunting, and early morning rays to happen, write it down. What what you want and whatever you like. Have fun with it.

Writing is supposed to be fun. So put all the stuff you love to see in stories and include them in your own to make one giant bundle of love.

If you want historical fantasy to be combined with certain modern elements, do it. If you want a village surrounded by lava, do it.

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secretswiftymarvelfan · 2 years ago

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The Interview Series: Agree to Disagree - Chris Evans x Reader

A/N: Not all opinions in this oneshot reflect my own views

Summary: After working on an animated movie together, you finally get to meet your co-star and find out exactly how much you agree on.

Pairing: Chris Evans x British!Actress!Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: Fluff! Dialogue Heavy! Mention of current political climate!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Masterlist

You had to admit you were slightly nervous this morning. It was the first day of the UK press tour and today was the first day you’d be meeting your co-star. Because that was the way with animated movies, you’d spend your time in the recording booth all alone with only the director and technicians. Sometimes you’d hear your co-star's voice if they’d already taped their section of the conversation, but you’d never meet them.

So far during the press tour, you’d either been alone for the interviews, or you’d been with other members of the cast. You’d yet to meet your fellow lead actor, the guy who voiced your character's love interest, the one and only Chris Evans.

You had to admit you had a teeny tiny crush on the man that once played Captain America, and you were worried that he’d never meet the expectations you had in your head because they do say never meet your heroes. Yet you were pleased to report that Chris lived up to every expectation, he was the perfect gentleman and you’ve never had so much fun doing interviews. And this was him suffering from Jetlag, leaving you to wonder what he’d be like fully energised.

In the few hours you’d spent together, it felt like you’d already established some good foundations for a friendship, however that could be about to crumble with the next interview.

“is it weird that I feel nervous?” you say as you sit down at the agree to disagree table.

Chris chuckles as he sits down “why are you nervous?” he asks.

“I mean we’ve only known each other a day, what if we end up disagreeing over something that destroys this friendship,” you say gesturing between the two of you.

“you guys have only just met?” the director of the shoot asks surprised.

“Yeah, that’s the thing with animated movies, you do all your parts alone and don’t meet anyone until the press or the premier” Chris explains nodding his head.

“Yeah and I had to skip the LA premier because I was so poorly, I think I ate some dodgy plane food,” you say with a small grimace.

“It's a good thing these guys know how to pull together a good cast, imagine if you had to do press with a diva or something,” Chris says shaking his head.

“well….” You say your voice high as you tilt your head side to side.

“oh is that how it is?” Chris asks laughing, you just smirk and wink back at him.

“okay we’ll start off easy: stealing movie set props is totally normal” the director reads out “3, 2, 1”

Both you and Chris instantly move your glasses over to the strongly agree sections of the table.

“I mean I haven’t done it myself” you smirk making Chris laugh “but I mean if somehow things find their way back to my place then who am I to say anything?” you say holding your hands up.

“Totally, I mean I’m just into theft in general” Chris states shrugging his shoulder.

“yeah I mean finder’s keepers” you laugh, Chris nodding along with you.

“what have you stolen?” the director asks.

“Everything!” Chris says shaking his head.

“hearts, mind and souls” you laugh.

Chris grins nodding his head “oh yeah definitely hearts” he smirks.

“okay next one: I am excellent at karaoke” the director reads out.

You move your glass straight to the strongly disagree while Chris moves his to the agree section.

“whoa, whoa, whoa hold up! I call bullshit!” Chris exclaims pointing to your glass.

“I am terrible! Absolutely terrible!” you laugh shaking your head.

“no you are not,” Chris says pointing over at you “I’ve seen that video of in that karaoke bar with Scarlett”

“she showed you that!” you exclaim in disbelief.

“Yup, and you brought the house down!” Chris exclaims “you can sing, very well in fact, much better than me”

You shake your head in disbelief, not only at the fact Scarlett showed him that video, but that he remembered it well enough to bring it up and compliment you’re singing abilities.

“she’s a traitor, I will be having words” you state shaking your head.

“Next question: the US office is better than the UK office” the director reads out.

Once again you and Chris are on opposite sides of the table, you firmly on strongly disagree while he’s on strongly agrees.

“well you’re just wrong” Chris states shaking his head.

“no I’m not, the OG office will always be superior, I’ll admit the US office is better than other copycat shows but you guys just don’t understand our humour and repeatedly murder our beloved shows” you argue.

“isn’t imitation the best form of flattery?” Chris points out, arching a brow.

“Not when you take everything that’s good and completely disregard it, and create the monstrosities you guys make” you state firmly.

Chris nods his head “agree to disagree?” he asks holding his hand out.

You throw your head back laughing “deal” you say shaking his hand.

“Next question, Captain America has the suit of any superhero” the director reads out.

You move your glass to the agree, while Chris moves his to disagree.

“I have to disagree, of course, I’m a little biased, but we have to play by our truths” Chris starts “it's not the best suit”

“I mean it's not the best overall but I think it’s a pretty good suit” you argue.

“it’s the suit that's best for him, and it works for him, but if we’re measuring against all the avengers, it's not the best suit, they’re all better than his” Chris says shaking his head.

“I guess, does good things for your tooshie though” you point out making Chris laugh.

“my tooshie?” he laughs.

“Yup,” you nod smiling back at him.

“Next question: American football is better than Rugby” the director reads out

You and Chris move your glasses to opposite ends of the table, him strongly agreeing, you strongly disagreeing.

“I mean of course we’ve grown up watching different sports, and I just don’t understand American football, you don’t even use your feet!” you say.

Chris laughs shrugging his shoulders “I mean nobody’s perfect”

“I did use to preach that American football was more dangerous but then I did see a six nations match, and all these guys are massive and the tackles are insane” Chris explains.

“yeah they could rip you in half, and we don’t wear any padding” you point out.

“True, true” Chris nods “I just grew up on American football and I don’t understand Rugby enough to enjoy it,” Chris says shrugging his shoulders.

“Exactly, and I think with any sport if you don’t understand the rules of it, you will never enjoy it” you agree.

“Definitely, tell you what, let's watch them together and explain the rules to each other” Chris suggests pointing between the two of you.

“deal” you nod shaking his hand.

“Next question: A difference in political views is a red flag,” the director says.

You keep your glass on the neutral line while Chris moves his to the agree “I think this is kinda the UK vs US again” you say gesturing to the glasses “cause here in the UK while there is a political divide, its nothing like the US”

“Right,” Chris says nodding along.

“Like I have liberal political views, but some of my best friends are tory voters, we have different views of how the country should be run and where the money should go but when it comes to the big things like basic human rights we generally agree” you explain “that being said I would never be able to date someone who’s political views infringe on people’s basic human rights, abortion and gay rights”

“yeah I completely agree with that, small differences are fine but with issues like that you kinda have to agree if you wanna move forward together,” Chris says nodding his head.

“okay we’ll go a little lighter for the next one: the British accent is the sexiest” the director reads out.

“I don’t think we’ve agreed once,” you say as you move your glass to disagree and Chris moves his to agree.

Chris laughs shaking his head “only once so far, but I mean your accent is pretty sexy I have to say” he says his voice deepening as he leans forward.

“I mean I guess it’s alright,” you say shrugging your shoulders.

“It's very sophisticated, but not I poop on a golden toilet posh,” Chris says making you laugh loudly.

“Thanks, but saying British accent is too broad, and not all of them are sexy,” you say shaking your head “you have the scouse, Geordie, Brummie, west country accents that are generally a lot harsher and less melodic than the British accent you hear on screen, I mean I know I hide a lot of my accent because it doesn’t translate well to screen” you explain.

“Really?” Chris asks surprised.

“Yeah I mean I wasn’t born there but I spent a lot of my life in the west country, so you pick up phrases and pronunciations, if I spend too much time over there I go full farmer” you chuckle.

“Now that is something id like to see” Chris laughs.

“And I mean your accent,” you say before whistling “damn sexy, it's no wonder they cast you in this movie,” you say making Chris laugh loudly.

“Okay, last one: cats are better than dogs,” the director says, both you and Chris moving your glasses to the disagree.

“hey look we’re finally agreeing again!” you exclaim pointing to the glasses.

Chris smiles warmly over at you, nodding his head “I’m not gonna strongly disagree because I respect cats, they’re beautiful animals but I’d rather have a dog”

“same, I feel like a dog just wants to be your friend while you really have to work with cats, gain their respect,” you say nodding your head.

“which is respectable, to be honest, gotta earn their trust,” Chris says nodding his head.

“exactly, but even then, you can feed them every day of their lives and they still don’t wanna be in the same room as you” you point out shaking his head.

“Yeah, they’re assholes” Chris states making you laugh loudly.

The director then called cut, allowing you and Chris to stand back up and start making your way offset.

“Okay I have one more question,” Chris says putting his hand on your arm to stop you “I enjoy spending time with the person next to me, and want to spend more time together”

You smile up at him “strongly agree”

“good me too, follow up question I want to spend my time after the premier tonight getting drinks with the person opposite me” Chris grins looking down at you, his eyes making you melt.

“strongly, strongly agree” you grin nodding your head, biting your lower lip slightly.

“Great, it’s a date” Chris winks.

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