#Andrew you will always mean the most to me

[coldsaturn]

I finished my reread of TRK (in its Italian translation, for a change) in preparation for TGR, and I have thoughts

The rule usually is: if you can't rephrase or find an equivalent expression in the target language you're translating to, delete it even if it means losing part of the original. So tell me who and why chose to keep "Pig" in "Pig Higgins" that in Italian sounds like that's his real name.

Completely forgot Allison has grey eyes

"If you're going to play dealer who do we have in goal second half?" Wymack looked at Andrew. Andrew looked over his shoulder as if checking for a third goalkeeper." Andrew is hilarious

"The Foxes had two sets of uniforms: home and away. The former was orange with white lettering and the latter was reverse. Neil liked the white version better as it was a little easier on the eyes." The last sentence was translated with what equals to "Neil liked the white version better since it was a little bit cuter :3" and I'm laughing

Completely forgot about the Foxes' mascot, Rocky Foxy. Who's inside lmao

"Kevin had nothing to say to them, but Aaron went straight to Matt and Nicky to check on them." Aaron my baby

"Face the facts. Your pet is and always will be dead weight. It's time to—" "What?" Andrew turned a wide-eyed look on Kevin. "You have a pet and you never told us? Where do you keep it, Kevin?" Andrew and his habit of pretending people aren't talking about him

"Neil stopped counting. "You know, I get it,"

Aaron and Nicky dance. Aaron dances. Someone with Andrew's face dances.

"It took him only a few seconds to realize the Ravens were coming. The entire team was crossing the court toward Kevin, walking in V formation like a flock of birds going south." sajdòasldkasldjaslkdj I want their confidence in the face of the most embarrassing shit

What's the second team Tetsuji owns? What's the second team Tetsuji owns???

In the translation Neil keeps on switching between casual and polite register with Wymack and it's making my eye twitch

I'm rereading about Matt telling his story and Neil understanding that Andrew had fixed Matt's issues with the drugs because it would have been too difficult for Aaron otherwise, but...Seth? Hello? Ignored even in this, that's cold.

The absolute tragedy of Neil's involvement. He opens his mouth and Seth dies. He is warned that he was the trigger but doesn't believe it. He opens his mouth again and Drake is back. He receives confirmation that yes, he is in fact the trigger, can't keep his mouth shut again, uses his fists for good measure, and Andrew will meet a specific doctor at Easthaven. And yet he thinks he can still go to Evermore and avoid the last threat as if he hadn't just punched Riko in the face twice already. Delusional doesn't even begin to cover it.

"Lie down," Riko said again, "and put your hands on the headboard." The parallels with Andrew, help

The translation made a handful of straight up grammatical errors on top of the few inaccuracies, the choice of keeping "Per favore" as trigger word for Andrew, and keeping "Pig" as first name for Higgins save for one time where we get a Phil. Do better, translator, please.

The last chapter is fire. The way it so strongly signals the start of a new arc and makes me vibrate for TKM is masterful.

[andrewsleftarmband]

I hope the twinyards spent their birthday together and that after all the years they’ve learned how to be brothers and that the cake was really good and there was lots of ice cream. I hope Neil and Katelyn are friends and that Andrew has learned to appreciate her a little bit and that they all go to sleep that night and have no nightmares.

[juniperhillpatient]

I love MY special side characters but some side characters who get hype confuse me not even gonna lie like sometimes the whole point of a character is that they fulfill a certain limited role & it’s literally fine lol

[heyitslapis]

Oh thank the Divine she doesn't remember

[mauvemischief]

LIFETIME OF THERAPY IS OKAY !!!!

psst. if andrew never fully heals and he's in therapy for the rest of his life that's fine and okay actually and we should say it

[peaceoutofthepieces]

i was rereading aftg and i always found it really interesting how andrew purposefully takes neil to talk to katelyn, and maybe it's because he doesn't trust himself ('take these or i'll use them') and even at that his acknowledgement that neil is the most likely to mitigate his violence is really something, but it's also insane when you think he knows he's having this conversation because he's just chosen neil, and is having neil there as a physical reminder, so every time he feels his resolve breaking neil is right there to remind him why it's worth it

like it's not just andrew having neil there so 'he'll intervene if this turns to violence', it's andrew being able to look at neil and feel neil with him and go 'this is why i'm doing this, this is what it gets me' and then proceeding to show neil just how much it means to him moments later ('no/that's why')

[theetherealbloom]

The Things I Would Do, Just To Be Here With You

Summary: Amidst the whirlwind of movie premieres and busy schedules, you and Pedro Pascal, both thriving in your respective careers, find ways to celebrate each other despite the distance. While Pedro promotes Gladiator 2 in London, he longs for your presence at the after-party.

Or, you two would scream at the stars for keeping you apart... and the government too.

“Pedro Pascal x f!reader, Pedro is promoting Gladiator 2, and reader is in Wicked (Elphaba or Galinda of course!) for the screenplay of Wicked, and they are just really supportive of each other but also joke about their own movie being the best. Finding time to come to each other’s premiers. Posting behind the scenes or visiting each other.” — From @imaginemixedfandom

Paring: Pedro Pascal x F!Reader

Warnings: Established Relationship, TOOTH-ROTTING FLUFF, Slight Angst, Swearing, Anxiety, Surrounded by A-Listers, Cheesy Dialogue, Romance, Kissing, Real People Fiction, Red Carpet, Cameras, Paparazzi, Long Distance, Timezone Difference, Social Media, Interviews, I’m not a Spanish speaker, I might be wrong with the terms, please don’t come after me T^T,

Word Count: 4.4k

A/N: Ty @imaginemixedfandom for giving the idea! I didn’t really want to replace the reader with the cast of Ariana Grande and Cynthia Erivo. Those two are just too iconic. So instead I will make the reader a writer for the screenplay adaptation of Wicked tehe. You all should listen to brent iii by Jeremy Zucker and Chelsea Cutler, it’s absolutely one of my favorite albums of this year. Lastly, remember this is all fictional and for fun! Enjoyyyy my loves!

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: and the government too! By Jeremy Zucker & Chelsea Cutler

gif by @andrew-garfielld

| Main Masterlist |

NEW YORK, NEW YORK — EVENING

“Hi.” Your voice was soft as you nestled deeper into the duvet, your body cocooned in its comforting folds.

“Hola, mi amor.” Pedro’s face lit up on your phone screen, the warm timbre of his voice washing over you like a balm. “I miss you.” “I miss you too… so much,” you replied with a little pout. The time difference between London and New York was merciless. Between his packed schedule promoting Gladiator 2 and prepping for Fantastic Four, and your whirlwind of work with the Wicked movie premiere, your conversations had been reduced to stolen moments like this. Still, even through a screen, Pedro had a way of making you feel like the most important person in the world. “You look cozy,” he said with a lopsided grin, his brown eyes crinkling at the corners. “Meanwhile, I’m freezing my ass off here on set. I think my nose might fall off.” You laughed softly, the sound tinged with longing. “I’d trade you, you know. I’ll take the cold if it means I get to see you.”

“Don’t tempt me.” He leaned closer to the camera, his face filling your screen. “If I weren’t contractually obligated to be here, I’d hop on the next flight and show up at your premiere tomorrow. Red carpet and all.” You smiled wistfully, your fingers brushing against the edge of your phone as if you could reach through it to touch him. “You’d outshine me. Imagine the headlines: ‘Pedro Pascal steals the show at Wicked premiere.’” “Please. Everyone’s going to be talking about you. ‘Brilliant screenwriter dazzles Hollywood!’” He paused, his tone softening. “You’re incredible, you know that?” Your throat tightened at his words, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “Stop, or I’ll actually cry, and my face will be all puffy for tomorrow.” He chuckled. “Okay, okay. But seriously, mi amor, I’m so proud of you. You’ve worked so hard for this.” “And so have you,” you countered. “The Gladiator 2 trailer broke the internet, and you still found time to send me flowers last week. You’re amazing, Pedro.” “Yeah, but flowers aren’t the same as being there with you.” His voice dipped, a hint of regret slipping through. “I hate being this far away.” You sighed, your heart aching in tandem with his. “Me too.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence filled with the unspoken tension of your shared longing. Then, Pedro’s grin returned, bright and mischievous. “So,” he said, leaning back in his chair, “who do you think has the better movie? Be honest.”

You raised an eyebrow, feigning offense. “Are you seriously asking me to compare Wicked to Gladiator 2? One’s a heartfelt, magical adaptation, and the other is a testosterone-filled epic. They’re different.”

“Uh-huh,” he teased, crossing his arms. “Sounds like you’re dodging the question. I knew you were scared to admit Gladiator 2 is better.”

You scoffed, sitting up straighter in bed. “Scared? Please. I just don’t want to hurt your feelings when Wicked inevitably becomes a global phenomenon.”

Pedro laughed, the sound rich and contagious. “You’re lucky I love you. Otherwise, this would be grounds for war.”

“Lucky? You’re the lucky one,” you shot back, smirking. “I’ll prove it when I finally see you in person again. But until then…”

You brought the phone closer, pressing a soft kiss to the screen. Pedro mimicked your gesture, his lips brushing his camera lens.

“Goodnight, mi vida,” he murmured.

“Goodnight, Pedro.” Your voice was tender, laced with all the love you couldn’t put into words.

As the call ended, you clutched the phone to your chest, a bittersweet smile tugging at your lips. Despite the distance, despite the chaos of your lives, you knew one thing for certain: Pedro Pascal would always be worth the wait.

NEW YORK, NEW YORK — MORNING

Today was the day. You were walking the red carpet for the Wicked movie premiere. A sea of celebrities, producers, fellow writers, and editors would surround you. The sheer magnitude of it all left you feeling both giddy and utterly petrified.  

You smoothed your hands over the silk robe you wore, your palms damp with nerves. While you loved the craft of storytelling, the spotlight had always felt daunting. You preferred to let your work speak for itself—a tendency that paired surprisingly well with dating Pedro Pascal, the literal human embodiment of charisma and charm.  

“There, all done,” Laura, your makeup artist, said with a satisfied grin.  

You blinked at your reflection in the mirror. Your skin glowed, your eyes were accentuated just enough to look striking without overwhelming, and your lips were painted a perfect shade of confidence.  

“You’ve outdone yourself,” you said, giving her a warm smile.  

“Of course I did,” Laura replied with a wink. “Big night for my favorite screenwriter.”  

Mia, your stylist, emerged from behind a rack of gowns, holding up the dress. “Speaking of big nights... Ready to put this beauty on?”  

You nodded, though your smile wavered. “I just wish Pedro were here,” you admitted, your voice quieter now.  

Laura and Mia exchanged sympathetic glances before Laura gently squeezed your shoulder. “You’re going to look incredible, and he’d lose his mind if he saw you. How about we take some pictures to send him? A little preview for the man himself.”  

You hesitated, glancing at your phone on the vanity. “I don’t want to distract him. He’s busy with interviews and set work. London and New York aren’t exactly next door…”  

“All is fair in love and war,” Laura teased, her giggle breaking the tension. “Come on, babe! If anything, it’ll be motivation for him to hop on the next flight.”  

Mia chimed in, smirking. “Or just to remind him what he’s missing. Trust me, teasing Pedro is a public service.”  

You laughed despite yourself, feeling the nerves lift slightly. “Fine, fine. But if he complains, I’m blaming you two.”  

They ushered you into the dress—a masterpiece of emerald silk and intricate detailing that clung perfectly in all the right places. As Mia zipped you up, Laura stepped back, her hands pressed dramatically over her heart.  

“Pedro’s going to lose his shit.”  

“You look like a literal goddess,” Mia added, spinning you toward the mirror.  

For a moment, you hardly recognized yourself. The reflection staring back radiated elegance and confidence, even if you didn’t entirely feel it yet.  

“Okay, okay. Take the pictures,” you relented, biting your lip as you tried to contain your grin.  

Laura grabbed your phone and started snapping. You struck a few playful poses, twirling and laughing as Mia adjusted the hem of your dress. It felt silly, but imagining Pedro’s reaction warmed your chest.  

Once the photos were taken, you grabbed your phone and hovered over the message screen. You debated for a moment, then attached the best photo and typed a quick message.  

You: Wish you were here. But since you’re not... Enjoy this. Don’t let it distract you too much, cariño.  

You hit send before you could second-guess yourself, the familiar swoosh of the message sending making your heart race.  

The reply came faster than you expected.  

Pedro: Distract me? How am I supposed to do anything now? You look like an angel. No, better than an angel. Drop-dead stunning. 

You couldn’t stop the grin from taking over your face.  

Pedro: Red carpet better be ready. They’ve got no idea who they’re dealing with tonight.  

The butterflies in your stomach multiplied tenfold. Before you could reply, another message appeared.  

Pedro: I’m so proud of you. Go knock ’em dead, mi amor. I love you.  

Your throat tightened, and you had to blink back the sudden tears threatening to ruin Laura’s hard work. You tapped out a quick reply.  

You: I love you too. Now go back to being the coolest man alive.  

“You okay over there?” Mia asked, watching you with a knowing smile.  

“More than okay,” you said softly, tucking your phone away.  

As you prepared to step into the whirlwind of the premiere, Pedro’s words echoed in your mind. Even from thousands of miles away, he made you feel invincible.  

Tonight wasn’t just about the red carpet or the glitz and glamour. It was about celebrating what you loved—and knowing Pedro would always be your biggest cheerleader, no matter where in the world he was.  

UNITED KINGDOM, LONDON — AFTERNOON  

Pedro sighed deeply, his head resting against the back of his chair. The steady hum of activity on set felt like background noise, the voices and clatter muffled by the ache in his chest. His fingers drummed lightly against his thigh, the motion absent-minded, a physical echo of the restlessness he felt inside.  

He missed you.  

It wasn’t the casual longing of someone who hadn’t seen their partner in a while—it was the kind of yearning that settled into his bones, heavy and persistent. A few hundred miles of ocean separated you, but it may as well have been an entire galaxy.  

He opened his phone and scrolled back to the picture you’d sent him that morning. The emerald dress, the way it hugged your form, the way your eyes sparkled even in a still image—it took his breath away. You looked like a dream. His dream.  

“If I were there right now…” he murmured under his breath, running his thumb over the screen as if he could touch you.  

If it were as simple as hopping on a flight, he’d already be on his way. He imagined the way you’d light up when you saw him, how you’d rush into his arms. He’d bury his face in your hair, inhale your scent, and hold you so tightly that he’d forget about the world outside.  

But it wasn’t that simple. The timing was off, as it so often was with both your careers in full swing. He was tied to the production schedule of Fantastic Four, and you were in the spotlight for Wicked. The universe seemed determined to keep you apart, and for the first time in years, Pedro felt the cracks in his patience.  

He closed his eyes, resting his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward. “Damn stars. Damn schedules. Damn… government,” he muttered bitterly. The laugh that followed was humorless, the frustration thick in his voice.  

If he could, he’d scream at the stars for conspiring against you both. Curse the invisible forces that made life so complicated. He’d barter with time itself, twist it and stretch it, just to have you here with him for a few stolen moments.  

He wondered what you were doing right now. Were you nervous about the red carpet? Did you feel as hollow without him as he felt without you? Pedro clenched his jaw, guilt gnawing at him. You deserved to have him there, to walk that carpet with you, to hold your hand and beam with pride as you took in the applause for your work.  

“Pedro, they’re ready for you!”  

The call from a production assistant jolted him from his thoughts. He blinked, the weight of reality crashing back down as he stood and stretched.  

“Be right there,” he called back, tucking his phone into his pocket.  

As he made his way back to the soundstage, he couldn’t shake the thought of tomorrow. The Gladiator 2 premiere loomed ahead, another milestone he should be celebrating with you by his side. Instead, you’d be halfway across the world.  

But one day, he promised himself, one day, nothing will keep us apart.  

NEW YORK, NEW YORK — EVENING 

The flashing lights were relentless, casting an almost blinding glow over the red carpet. The screams of fans and the constant click of cameras created a symphony of chaos, one you weren’t entirely comfortable navigating. You’d always preferred the quiet—curled up with a book, tucked away from the world’s prying eyes.  

But tonight, you smiled and posed alongside your cast and the production crew. You owed it to them, to yourself, and to the story you’d helped bring to life.  

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Winnie Holzman, the original writer of Wicked, leaned in with a smile, her eyes sparkling as she looked at the crowd.  

You nodded, though your voice was tinged with nervousness. “It’s incredible. Overwhelming, but in the best way.”  

“You’ve done amazing work,” Dana Fox chimed in, her excitement infectious. “We wouldn’t be standing here without your screenplay tying it all together.”  

Jon M. Chu, ever the cheerleader, clapped you lightly on the back. “Tonight’s your night too. Own it.”  

You laughed softly, feeling a little more at ease with their encouragement. Together, the four of you posed for the cameras, sharing a few candid laughs before heading closer to the press area.  

As you stepped into the spotlight for interviews, the questions started flying.  

“How does it feel to see Wicked finally come to life on the big screen?”  

“It feels surreal,” you answered, your smile genuine. “Everyone on this project has poured so much heart into it. To see it come together like this is... overwhelming in the best way.”  

“You’re known for being quite private. How are you handling all the attention tonight?”  

“It’s definitely out of my comfort zone,” you admitted with a small laugh. “But I’m surrounded by such a talented and supportive team, which makes it easier.”  

Then, inevitably, came the question you’d been bracing for. “We couldn’t help but notice that Pedro Pascal isn’t here tonight. Do you miss him?”  

The question tugged at something deep inside you. “I miss him so much,” you said softly, your expression softening. “He’s busy promoting Gladiator 2 and filming in London. I know he wishes he could be here, just like I wish I could be there for him. We’re both incredibly proud of each other, though.” You grinned, a playful sparkle in your eyes. “But, of course, Wicked is better. Don’t tell him I said that.”  

The interviewer laughed, and you followed with a wink before stepping away.  

AFTER THE PREMIERE  

As the credits rolled and the crowd applauded, you walked alongside Jon, Winnie, and Dana toward the exit. The night air was cool and refreshing after the heat of the theater.  

“You were glowing on that carpet,” Winnie teased, nudging you gently.  

Jon smirked. “Bet it’s because of a certain someone who couldn’t make it.”  

You flushed immediately, your cheeks warming. “Stop,” you mumbled, though your smile betrayed your embarrassment.  

“Oh, come on,” Dana added with a laugh. “You were gushing about him earlier. Just admit it—you’re head over heels.”  

You sighed dramatically, though your heart raced just thinking about Pedro. “Okay, fine. I miss him like crazy. I just—” You paused, glancing up at the stars. “I wish I could be there for him, you know? For his premiere. He’s always so supportive of me. It feels wrong not to do the same.”  

Jon stopped walking, turning to face you with a thoughtful look. “So go.”  

“What?”  

“Go to him,” he said with a shrug. “Take the jet. I’ll make the call.”  

You blinked at him, stunned. “You—you’d let me do that?”  

“Of course,” Jon said, waving off your concern. “You’re part of the heart of this project. If being with him makes you happy, it’s worth it.”  

“But I don’t have a ticket, and I need to pack, and—”  

Dana held up a hand, already pulling out her phone. “Relax. I’ll call a car, and we’ll pack together. You just focus on getting there.”  

Before you could protest further, Jon had already stepped aside, dialing someone on his phone. Dana grabbed your arm and started steering you toward the waiting car.  

“You’re really doing this,” she said, grinning.  

“I—I guess I am.” Your voice trembled with excitement and nerves. “What if I don’t make it in time? What if—”  

Dana cut you off with a gentle squeeze on your shoulder. “You’ll make it. And even if you don’t, just being there will mean everything to him.”  

AT THE AIRPORT  

The private jet was waiting for you, its sleek frame illuminated by the glow of the runway lights. You quickly texted Pedro’s manager and assistant, letting them know you were on your way.  

You: I’m coming to London. Please don’t tell him. I want it to be a surprise.  

The response was almost immediate:  

Franklin Latt: Got it. He’s going to lose his mind—in the best way.  

As you settled into your seat and the jet began to taxi, your heart raced. Seven hours separated you from Pedro, but for the first time in days, the distance didn’t feel insurmountable.  

You leaned your head back against the seat, clutching your phone tightly as you closed your eyes. You could already picture the look on his face when he saw you.  

Just hold on, Pedro. I’m on my way.  

UNITED KINGDOM, LONDON, ODEON LUXE LEICESTER SQUARE — EVENING

The energy in Leicester Square was electric. Fans filled the barricades, the roar of excitement nearly drowning out the camera flashes as Pedro made his way down the red carpet. Dressed in a sharp black shirt, the top unbuttoned, slacks, his signature charm, and a warm smile lit up every interaction as he stopped to greet fans and pose for photos.

The press area was bustling, and soon Pedro found himself standing in front of a journalist holding a microphone.

“Pedro, congratulations on Gladiator 2! How does it feel to be here tonight celebrating this film?”

Pedro grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “It feels incredible. This is one of those projects you dream about as an actor, and to see it all come together, to see everyone’s hard work pay off, it’s… it’s a real honor.”

The interviewer nodded. “You’ve had an amazing year, between this and your other projects. But we couldn’t help but notice that someone special in your life had a big night recently—the Wicked premiere in New York. Did you get a chance to see any photos?”

Pedro’s face lit up instantly, a laugh bubbling out of him. “Oh, I did. Believe me, I did. She sent me some pictures, and I’ve seen the ones floating around online too. I mean… she looked absolutely stunning. Like, knock-you-out, breathtakingly gorgeous. I might be a little biased, but still.”

The crowd nearby caught wind of his gushing, and a few cheers erupted. Pedro laughed, scratching the back of his neck.

“Honestly, I’m so proud of her,” he continued, his voice softening. “She poured so much of herself into that screenplay, and to see her get the recognition she deserves? It’s the best feeling in the world.”

The interviewer smiled. “There’s definitely a lot of love and mutual admiration between you two. Word on the street is you’ve got a bit of a friendly competition going on—Gladiator 2 versus Wicked. Any truth to that?”

Pedro chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Oh, it’s absolutely true. We’ve got a bet going. She’s convinced Wicked is going to sweep the box office, and I, of course, have complete faith in Gladiator 2. Let’s just say the stakes are high—winner gets breakfast in bed for a week.”

The interviewer laughed along with him. “That’s adorable. Who’s winning so far?”

Pedro smirked. “Let’s just say she’s got me a little worried. But I’ll never admit that to her.”

LATER, BACKSTAGE

Pedro leaned against the wall, sipping from a glass of water while chatting with Paul Mescal. Their conversation flowed easily, but Pedro’s gaze kept drifting toward the entrance, as if hoping for some sort of miracle.

“You’ve got that look again,” Paul teased, nudging him with his elbow.

“What look?” Pedro asked, feigning ignorance.

“The ‘I’m desperately in love and missing my girl’ look,” Paul quipped with a grin.

Denzel Washington, who had just joined the conversation, chuckled. “He’s not wrong, man. You’ve been staring off into space like a lovesick teenager.”

Joe Quinn walked by, overhearing the exchange and throwing in his two cents. “It’s cute, though. Very romantic. Someone should write a movie about it.”

Pedro rolled his eyes, though a bashful smile crept onto his face. “Okay, okay, I miss her. Can you blame me? She’s halfway across the world, and I can’t stop thinking about her.”

Frank, Pedro’s manager, stepped in, giving him a supportive pat on the back. “You’ve got it bad, buddy. But hey, it’s not a bad problem to have.”

Frank couldn’t help but smile to himself, already knowing what Pedro didn’t—that you were on your way. He could only imagine Pedro’s reaction when he saw you walk through those doors.

“Alright,” Pedro said with a dramatic sigh, “can we please focus on the fact that we’re here for Gladiator 2 and not my love life?”

“Sure,” Paul said, smirking. “But if she shows up, we’re all watching you lose it.”

Pedro laughed, shaking his head. “I’ll take that bet.”

Little did he know, he was about to owe a lot of people a round of drinks.

UNITED KINGDOM, LONDON, ODEON LUXE LEICESTER SQUARE — EVENING  

The crowd in the after-party buzzed with excitement, a mix of A-list chatter and glasses clinking. Pedro stood near Lux, their conversation about the night’s success lighthearted, though his gaze kept drifting toward the entrance. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, only that the ache of missing you hadn’t dulled, even amidst all the celebration.  

Lux, sharp-eyed as always, caught the slight shift in his expression and smirked. “You’ve got that look again,” she teased.  

“What look?” Pedro asked, feigning nonchalance as he sipped his drink.  

“The one that screams, ‘I wish she were here.’” Lux nudged his arm playfully.  

Before he could muster a witty retort, Lux’s eyes darted toward the entrance, widening in surprise. “Well, speak of the devil…”  

Pedro turned, following her gaze, and the breath left his lungs.  

There you were, stepping into the room, your black silk gown catching the dim lights perfectly. Your hair, slightly tousled from the rush, framed your face with an effortless beauty that made his heart stop. Heads turned as you walked in with Frank, but Pedro didn’t notice anyone else.  

He froze, jaw slack, his mind racing to comprehend that you were actually here.  

“Pedro,” Lux whispered, amused. “Close your mouth before you catch a fly.”  

But Pedro couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. All he could do was watch as you walked toward him, the soft smile on your lips turning into a grin as your eyes met his. He vaguely registered Joe, Paul, and Denzel laughing nearby, but he didn’t care. You were here.  

When you finally stopped in front of him, your grin widened, and you quipped, “Sorry, I’m late. Traffic was terrible—there’s a movie premiere happening, and I—”  

Before you could finish, Pedro moved.  

He swept you up in his arms, lifting you off your feet as a chorus of cheers, whistles, and laughter erupted around you. You let out a surprised giggle, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as he held you close, burying his face against your shoulder.  

“Dios mío,” Pedro murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re here.”  

“I’m here,” you whispered back, your fingers threading through his curls.  

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes brimming with love. “I can’t believe this. You’re really here.”  

You smiled, tears threatening to spill as you cupped his face. “I couldn’t let you have all the fun without me.”  

Pedro didn’t hesitate. He closed the distance, kissing you with a fervor that made the entire room fade away. The kiss was deep, all-consuming, and when you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless.  

Your laughter broke the moment, and Pedro pressed his forehead to yours, his hands still firmly around your waist as if afraid you might disappear. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice trembling slightly.  

“For what?” you asked softly, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw.  

“For being here. For being you. For… everything.” His voice was low, reverent. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’ll never stop thanking the universe for it.”  

You kissed him again, a soft press of lips this time, and smiled against his mouth. “You don’t have to thank the universe. Just let me love you.”  

Pedro let out a soft laugh, his arms tightening around you. “You’re incredible, you know that?”  

“You’ve mentioned it once or twice,” you teased, resting your head against his chest as the room slowly came back into focus.  

From the sidelines, Joe nudged Paul, chuckling. “Think he’s gonna let her go anytime soon?”  

Paul smirked. “Not a chance.”  

Denzel clinked his glass against Joe’s. “Now that’s a man in love.”  

And Pedro? He didn’t care about the laughter, the cameras, or even the early morning call time tomorrow. For now, you were in his arms, and nothing else mattered.

[devine-fem]

If you wish to get into Spideypool or write for them then this is a masterlist of all ‘Spideypool’ evidence of Wade Wilson or Peter Parker being astrangly interested in each other. This took me forever... please don't flop. If I miss anything please let me know, I'll edit this list as soon as possible.

1. When bound against Spider-Man, Deadpool gets... excited for lack of a better word and even more so when Spider-Man yells at him.

2. Deadpool has a celebrity crush on Spider-Man like young teenage boys would crush on various female actors, but instead Wade Wilson had Spiderman, I guess.

3. Wade Wilson owns a plethora of Spider-man merch, plushies, blankets, posters, underwear, belts, he has them.

4. There are two official variant covers that display Deadpool and Spider-man recreating the upside-down kiss… this is technically not canon due to them being variant covers, but they can be if you want.

5. When someone asks Deadpool about the relationship he has with Spider-Man he either says they are best friends or lovers.

6. Wade is jealous or envious of Peter’s bond with Johnny Storm.

7. Wade comments multiple times about how tight Spider-Man’s suit is and how nice his butt is.

8. Wade has called Tobey Maguire cute.

9. There are mutliple occasions of pedestrians in the marvel universe assuming Spider-Man and Deadpool are some sort of couple.

10. When Deadpool is asked about a romantic date… he imagines him and Spiderman sharing a candlelit dinner together…

11. It’s important to remember that Spider-Man is a grown man. Yes, Deadpool flirts a lot, but he is flirting with another adult that he is sexually attracted to, and this is not a crime, he’s not harassing Spider-Man in any way and if Peter felt like he was then he can also be an adult and tell Wade to stop which he never does.

12. Deadpool most of the time does not know that Peter Parker is Spider-Man so when Wade flirts with Spider-Man, he’s mostly attracted to the idea of Spider-Man he has in his head and when he’s in the position to know Spider-Man’s identity, he always refuses and even protects his identity from being known by other people. + Forehead kiss.

13. Wade has a list of people that he would cheat on his wife with. It’s a list of people he’d be given a free pass to have sex with if he’s given the chance. Most people on this list are woman but the last person is Spider-Man, this is one of the biggest nods towards Deadpool’s sexuality because it’s set in stone that if given the opportunity, he would have sex with Spider-Man, while knowing that he’s a man.

14. Wade has pictures of him and Spider-Man together in his house.

15. Spider-Man keeps pictures of him and Wade on his phone… for reasons… I don’t know why.

16. They have one biological child together called ‘Itsy Bitsy’ and another they adopted called Matrix.

17. Wade doesn’t hesitate to protect Spider-Man.

18. Ryan Renolds and Andrew Garfield have kissed before. Not really evidence, I just think it's funny.

19. Deadpool loses his wife because of how much time he’s devoted to Spider-Man, instead of her. She even calls him out on his crush, he legitimately loses his wife because of his relationship with Spider-Man due to her feeling like she’s third wheeling.

20. Marvel ships it.

21. Asking Spider-Man for a kiss, an upside-down kiss that is and I mean, if you count the variant covers as canon then sure, yeah, never say never Spidey.

22. Wade would die with Spider-Man (and he gets to prove this later)

23. Spider-Man’s touch, voice and smell all seem to calm Wade down. 24. There's an issue in a Deadpool comic literally just called "Spideypool." 25. Wade references fanfiction, fanart and says Spideypool out of his mouth multiple times so he's very aware that this exists. 26. There's an alternate universe where they are old man in an apocalypse. 27. Deadpool's villains are well aware that he has a weak spot for Spider-Man and uses this against him at times. How cute is that? 28. Spider-Man is Wade's special boy... dude, this is so fanficy... 29. Okay, so, the heartmates thing. A group of people use magic to try and summon Deadpool's heartmate to try and get to his wife, I'm not entirely sure what a heartmate is but I'm pretty sure it's a 'one true love' type of thing and yes, this summons Spider-Man, so unless Wade's 'gay jokes' have tricked the concept of magic as a whole, that's pretty on the nose. 30. Wade has seen Spider-Man naked... I'm pretty sure that is what this is implying. 31. Peter does find Wade genuinely annoying sometimes, but he never voices this to Wade directly but the funniest thing is... Peter's attitude to Wade is like a 'he can only get on MY NERVES!' type of thing. 32. Peter genuinely gets worried for Deadpool when he gets hurt even though he has a healing factor, he even takes care of him when he's healing after a mission. 33. Peter gets magicked into thinking Wade is attractive. NOW LET'S GET INTO THE SAD AND EXISTENTIAL STUFF! 34. One of Wade's bigger character arcs is when he tries to become a hero like Spider-Man. He admires Spider-Man, he puts him on a pedestal because he does the right thing without hurting anyone and he's admired for it. To be honest, we did just go through a bunch of cute fanficy moments but this moral back and forth between the two is definitely the gayest thing they've done. 35. Weirdly Peter is trying to actively force himself to hate Wade, but he can't find it within himself to dislike him. I think that his mean comments toward Wade are definitely more of an act because the behavior that Wade displays remind him of things he dislikes within himself. Peter also has been betrayed multiple times throughout his life by people he thought he could trust so he has a hard time allowing himself to trust Wade. Meanwhile Wade feels jealous of what he assumes is a relationship between him and Peter Parker that could possibly be romantic, yes, Wade does think Peter Parker and Spider-Man may have been dating which is why Spider-Man is so protective of Peter Parker which causes Wade to get jealous. 36. Wade and Peter actually become friends very easily which is something that people complained about when this comic was still just coming out. Eventually, because Wade is convinced Peter Parker is an evil doer, he kills Peter Parker (Spider-Man) which causes Spider-Man to revoke their friendship and feel betrayed by Deadpool. Peter assumes that Wade falsified their entire friendship just to get to Peter Parker and kill him, he eventually finds out this was a mistake and brings Peter Parker to life which is around the time where Wade's wife leaves him. Now, because of Peter, Wade is using rubber bullets and refusing to kill people. It's important to remember that Wade in the past, has mentioned that killing was all he had, and he gave that up for Spider-Man, to prove himself to Spider-man. This is a huge thing for Wade, killing was one of his most defining traits but it also made him hate himself, but he's willing to change for Peter.

Is it... wrong of me for kind of finding the fact that Peter has worked to help Deadpool stop killing but this ultimately culminates as Wade killing Peter, like biting the hand that feeds you... is it wrong that I find this tragically romantic...? I need so much therapy. 37. Wade explains that he was just trying to protect Spider-Man which is one of my favorite moments between the two.

38. Peter eventually forgives Deadpool, and they go after the person who put a hit on Peter Parker.

39. When Peter’s mad at him… he doesn’t exactly… hate it? I guess.

40. Wade has a little "What would Spidey do?" wristband. That's adorable. 41. Wade describes his new morality as the best thing that's ever happened to him and one of the biggest things that motivate him to be better is because someone (spidey) genuinely believes that he can get better. He mentions that if Spider-man was to die or leave him then there would be no point in getting better which is so sad to me.

42. Spider-Man has a bad habit of easily forgiving people. Spider-Man has a hero complex and believes that everyone can be saved, even when told to his face that Deadpool is not the type of person that can be save, he defends Deadpool and rejects this idea.

43. When Wade does the right thing Peter tells him that he's proud of him and this is also a big motivator for him. He feels better if he's told someone notices his efforts and feels neglected if they don't.

44. Speaking of tragically romantic, Peter starts to question his morality because he finds out that there's a hole in his life that seemingly can't be filled with doing the right thing anymore. He lets himself slip away and contemplates killing itsy bitsy which he commits to doing but Wade tries relentlessly to stop him.

He ends up killing Wade because he finds that his ongoing worship of him makes him feel guilty. 45. Wade doesn't stop trying to get Peter to stop.

Ultimately Peter beats him in the fight and to stop Peter, he sacrifices himself. He kills Itsy Bitsy instead so Peter can't. He gives up his morality, something that meant the world to him, for Peter, once again. Peter feels immensely guilty for this and promises to make it up to Wade somehow. It's also implied that Wade fills that gap in Peter's life that he's missing.

46. This is from a different writer so it's a little inconsistent, basically because of Wade's new morality, he stops making as many jokes, starts to become more serious and eventually gets to really be alone with himself and his problems which causes him to dislike the version of Wade Wilson he's become because of Spidey. It's like Peter makes him see parts of himself that he dislikes a little bit clearer, and he loses hope, he stops believing that he can actually become better. Cameleon, a villain at the time fakes Deadpool killing someone, Peter believes this - which hurts Wade due to how little faith it seems Peter has in Deadpool. He blows up in Peter's face and says that he did all of this for him, and he doesn't really care about letting everyone down... except him, he feels extremely guilty for some reason when he lets Spider-Man down.

47. Eventually, Peter finds out that Wade did not kill someone and apologizes to Deadpool which is important because it means Peter cannot wrong Deadpool without the narrative making sure he makes amends for his actions. Deadpool sometimes is very vexing, and this is not necessarily entirely Peter's fault for getting aggravated with him. Deadpool does this on purpose, he has low self-esteem and sometimes uses his behavior as a way to push the people he cares about away, whether it's to protect them or to keep himself from getting hurt. Wade has communicated this to Peter before and Peter very sweetly affirmed him. 48. Wade has a daughter named Ellie that he keeps far away from him because he does not want her getting in the middle of his mercenary business and getting hurt. He says that one day when he's ready to put this mercenary stuff behind him then he'll be ready to take care of her properly. Wade introduces his daughter to Spider-Man, and she says that she loves Spider-Man and Daddy talks about him all the time which Wade adorably gets embarrassed by. 49. Peter goes out of his way to hang out with Wade. 50. Theres this huge arc of future!Wade Wilson coming back from the future into the past to stop things from going so wrong in the future. This might be confusing but basically, this whole arc is about how Wade refuses to live without Peter and without Peter's permission, gives up some of his healing factor to keep Peter alive way past his due date. He outlives every person he knows and the only person he has is Deadpool. He even gives up being Spider-Man until busting a robbery motivates him to be Spider-Man one more time which he spends that time with Deadpool. Peter almost dies once again and to save Peter, Deadpool gives up more of his healing factor to keep him alive. It's so strange to me that Wade refuses to live without Peter but what's even stranger is that it's revealed that Peter knows Deadpool is keeping him alive and never stops him. These two are so weird about each other. This eventually culminates with the both of them dying in each other's arms, I kid you not. 51. So, Wade and Peter, long story short, stops this future from happening which is the second the last arc. The last last arc is them defeating the concept of the third wall I believe...? 52. Another thing that is EXTREMELY important to note is that Wade and Peter are canonically established friends right now. During the last 10 issues of their solo comic they become friends, set in stone, no going back on that. Peter finally accepts Wade as he is, and they go on a little adventure together. There's no point in saying Peter doesn't like Wade or Wade doesn't like Peter. Peter and Wade's friendship developed over time, there's no need to try and erase their friendship. Peter likes Wade now; he stops pretending to be annoyed with him, he cheers him on, and he compliments him regularly. He even trusts Wade enough to reveal himself as Peter Parker. Peter and Wade's friendship was very similar to Johnny Storm and Peter Parker's, both hated each other at first but then slowly became good friends. There's no point of putting Spideytorch and Spideypool against each other when they are so similar. 53. Wade thinks Peter is handsome. 54. Peter thinks Wade is a hero. 55. One of my favorite moments because I am CRAZY. Wade dying for Peter without hesitation and Peter being devastated. This happens almost right after Peter reveals himself as Peter Parker. 56. Wade has eaten Peter before, if you're into that Cannibalism being a metaphor for love type of thing.

57. Wade has called Peter 'baby boy' and "bambi' but these things have happened literally one time before and have become extremely overused. Wade has plenty of nicknames for Peter, let's mix it up a bit. 58. Marvel's little animation for the both of them. 59. They've interacted in Ultimate Spider-Man before.

60. Peter has a fever dream… Deadpool is crossdressing in it.

61. Deadpool gets put into a falsified reality where everything is his version of perfect, this is a villians way of getting information out of Deadpool while using his favorite things as leverage. In this reality, fake!Spider-Man tries to get information out of Deadpool by bribing him with sex. I kid you not.

62. His little “Make Spidey mine, Marvel!” Badge. He’s so down bad.

63. The entirety of Deadpool (2013) Issue #10.

64. The official Deadpool manga where Deadpool contemplates asking Spider-Man for a dirty favor.

65. Deadpool’s random little Spider-Man keychain at the handle of his Katanna.

Or, y’know, reading their duo comic: Spider-Man/Deadpool (2016) would also basically tell you everything you need to know about their dynamic if you need somewhere to start. I hope this helped to refresh anyone’s mind on things as well.

Again, if I missed anything cute, please let me know. I’ll edit it as soon as possible.

[i-am-baechu]

✎ᝰ. Suchwita ⁞ J. Jungkook

Summary: Just Jungkook getting bullied by his members about Y/N, nothing new

Part of ‘ His Fan Girl universe

"After my first show that day, you went on Weverse Live and talked for nearly two hours." Jungkook nodded his head and put a piece of beef in his mouth. As Yoongi put another piece of meat on the grill with a smile, "I bet Y/N was annoyed with you."

Jungkook rolled his eyes and pointed his chopsticks at Yoongi, "She can never be annoyed with me."

Taehyung took a sip of his beer and shrugged his shoulders, "I don't understand how she can put up with you."

"Yah!"

Yoongi leaned back into his chair and smiled at him, "She came to the concert with you and I saw how excited she was. "

Jungkook nodded his head at this, "She was excited to see you because she missed us performing together."

Yoongi crossed his arms over his chest and looked up at the ceiling, "I felt really grateful but also a little sad at the same time."

"It kind of ached a little. I loved performing that song with you, Y/N said it was fun to watch us. She said she can't wait to see us all together again."

Yoongi nodded his head and gave Jungkook a proud smile, "No more sad things. Your album is out, finally."

Jungkook smiled widely at this and nodded his head, "You guys made fun of my concept pictures."

Taehyung nodded his head, "You only did because you knew Y/N would love it."

Yoongi shook his head and pointed his finger at Taehyung, "Don't say that."

"Hyung, Y/N isn't all that innocent."

"To me she is."

Jungkook rolled his eyes at the two, "You guys are talking more about Y/N than me."

"I wish she could come and drink with me. Your title track is "Standing Next To You", was that inspired by Y/N."

"Somewhat, I recorded it with Andrew. Y/N helped me with my english and she was always there when I needed her. It was just a song on the list but I felt like it made the most sense."

Yoongi nodded his head and took a sip of his beer, "When you recorded "Seven", I heard Y/N wasn't happy that you had a explicit version."

"You need to stop talking to her."

Taehyung let out a laugh and smacked jungkook's shoulder, "She was not happy about that."

"I told her I wanted to do something different. She loves the song though."

Yoongi glanced at the camera and then back at Jungkook, "Was it number one in her spofity wrapped?"

Jungkook clapped his hands and waved at the cameras with a smile, "Bye Army, have a goodnight." He stood up and bowed at the camera as Yoongi let out a laugh, "Jungkook sit down."

Yoongi turned his head at the voice and looked back at Jungkook, "You better listen to your fiancée."

Jungkook pouted and sat back in his chair with his arms crossed, "I don't need this bullying."

Y/N shook her head and headed towards Yoongi with her back to the camera, "Can I have a piece?"

Yoongi grabbed a new pair of chopsticks and happily gave a piece of meat to Y/N. Jungkook glared at the scene and pointed his finger at him, "Yah! Hyung! You can't do that with her."

Y/N rolled her eyes and pulled her mask up, "It's Yoongi. He has permission."

"Yeah, down boy."

Jungkook turned towards Taehyung and glared at him. Taehyung looked at Y/N and pouted with his puppy dog eyes, "Y/N, he's being mean to me."

"Jungkook."

"This isn't fair!"

[adrixivy]

sometimee, fic writers make Peter a twink in spideypool fics. i don’t like it but when the plot is good and maintains Peter’s personality, i usually let it slide. But when it doesn’t, it’s usually a bad fic so I drop it.

Like when Wade admires Peter’s body, what do you mean “His small slender build” or “his clean pearl-like skin, littered with no marks unlike mine”?? No thank you!

Give me the best sleeper build on Peter Parker please! The man definitely always wear baggy clothes because he DOESN’T want anyone to know he’s actually pretty ripped. The man IS muscular and it shows when he wears his spandex suit. (The tight suit is serving us so good)

Like, Peter’s biceps are big. The size of an average male’s head probably. Man has thunder thighs. His chest is glorious, with pecs that Wade would LOVE to lay his head against. Give the man a slutty waist too and THAT would be why Wade is admiring the man’s body, drooling over his beautiful muscular body.

His height is probably a little taller than average too. But Wade will always be taller than Peter because he is a huge man. The man is probably at least a LITTLE tan too.

And please, Peter “Everytime they knock me down, I’ll get back up again” Parker has no scars whatsoever on his body? The man definitely suffered through so much injuries that even his enhanced healing can’t keep up and it left at least SOME scars on his body. Like for example, maybe the spider bite left a mark on the back of his neck (if we’re using Andrew) OR a small mark on his hand (if we’re following the comics).

He definitely had cuts from people before, whether it be a mugger with a knife and he accidentally got cut or cuts from Octavius’s tentacles cause he couldn’t evade it all.

You’re also saying he doesn’t have ANY burn scars from jumping into buildings enveloped in fire so many times in his vigilante career that he could be a single firefighter unit?? Like c’mon people, think of his hardships as a teen hero learning the ropes and improving himself slowly over the years!

Wade would ADORE the man if he had marks on his body. His whole body is covered in scars, so what makes you think that he’ll discriminate others who have them too?

I get most people would want the common slender bottom and beefed up top but it’s freaking Spider-Man. HE IS BEEFED UP TOO. Wade is extremely huge so when he’s beside Peter, Peter will always look sort of slender too but he’s not! He’s ripped and his body is ABOVE an average man’s body. Wade’s muscular build is just abnormal, probably because he’s always been hella huge or it was the experiment. I dunno but all I know is, PETER IS NOT AN ACTUAL TWINK.

He only acts like it. Thanks for listening people😊

[legandairy-horror]

Does anyone else feel a strange sort of dread waiting for new deltarune chapters?

It sounds crazy right? I admit it's a weird feeling for sure, and I'm not even 100% sure if dread is the right way to describe it. But as more info is revealed and the next chapter inevitably gets closer and closer to releasing I can't help but feel a strange sort of, melancholy? Longing? The only way I can describe it is "when you know the goodbye is coming". The strange somber feeling when you know you’re going to have to leave stuff behind, but aren't quite ready for it yet.

warning: words. Homestuck

In 3 months Chapter 1 will be 6 years old, and in 2 months Chapter 2 will be 3 years old. Deltarune is ostensibly in Early Access but this release schedule puts new chapters closer in time scale to whole sequals if anything, which they most assuredly are not trying to be. This has created a strange situation in the fanbase that I don't think I've ever truly seen anywhere else. One where, In the time between chapters It feels like everyone has had their own chance to decide what Deltarune is to them. To create their own version of this story, to write their own themes that they want to see explored, to imagine their own events and plot twists they want to see play out.

@lynxgriffin Paper Trail Comic Being an Alternate Story following off of chapter 1

@lilybug-02 The Chara Timeline Being one of many interpretations on the popular Asriel & Chara roommates headcannon.

@huecycles Andromeda Chapters being their interpretation on the full game

The innumerable Deltarune Theorists and analysts like HalfBreadChaos, Andrew Cunningham, Stuffed Alpaca, etc. etc.

@vyletbunni Deltatraveler being a whole ass fangame based around a chapter 2 meme that it has long since outlived

And that's kinda the thing isn't it? Once more deltarune comes out, a ton of these projects will just become outdated, it's an inevitability. So what will happen to them? will they become forgotten? maybe, maybe not, it's impossible to tell. but either way it feels kinda sad to think about yknow? that one day all the time and effort spent and all the memories made might one day just cease to exist.

There's a lot more I could say on this topic if given the chance but to keep this tumblr post from morphing into a 2 hour long video essay in text form let me leave off with this.

In the age of the internet and social media there will always be a fan of something. Nothing truly dies quite like it used to anymore, regardless of whatever influencers want you to believe. But that doesn't mean things stop changing, that there wasn't a past that has since been left behind. I'm a Homestuck fan. more specifically I'm a Late Homestuck fan, one who came in after the comic had already ended and it's peak in popularity was long behind it. The fandom's still around all these years later. But it'd be foolish to admit that, 8 years after the comics controversial end, the inescapable trend of new fans replacing old fans has left the fandom wholly disconnected from the monolith that it once was. the only remnants of which lie in decades old discourse and fanfiction. Like old relics of a long forgotten city, waiting to be excavated under a fine layer of dirt.

Before I close out here I just want to make it clear: I'm not saying that we should be trying to return to some nebulous "glorious past" that never really existed. I'm not trying to deride Toby Fox for not working in the sweatshop hard enough to produce more content™, or whatever you wanna try and spin-doctor this post into. It's just a thought that creeps into my head every now that I wanted to share, see if anyone feels the same, yknow?

Besides it's not all doom and gloom. For those of you OG Homestucks who read till the end. You remember Heinoustuck? Guidestuck? Nightfall? Fucking Ke$haStuck? yeah those are still going by the way! after years of inactivity they've now started back up again. some under new authors and some by the same author but still!

You could say a lot about that but to me at least, it makes me feels hopeful in a way. That, even if not everything will survive. we'll at least have some mementos to remember what came before.

[fratttymatty]

Tricked Ya Bro

(All characters are 18+)

Logan Andrews adjusted his glasses and stared at the open textbook in front of him, though the chaos of the cafeteria made it hard to focus. At Dalton High, he was used to sitting alone at the farthest table, clutching his AP History notes and munching on a soggy sandwich. As a gay, nerdy, liberal 20-year-old, Logan had long accepted his place at the bottom of the social hierarchy.

At the opposite end of the cafeteria sat Dylan Carter, the epitome of high school glory. With his chiseled jawline, golden tan, and a varsity jacket slung over his broad shoulders, Dylan was everything Logan wasn’t—popular, athletic, and cocky. The star quarterback and the king of the jocks, Dylan always had a crowd of cheerleaders and teammates around him, laughing at his jokes and basking in his presence.

So when Dylan approached Logan’s table that day, Logan’s heart practically stopped.

“Hey, uh, Logan, right?” Dylan said, flashing his movie-star grin.

Logan blinked, clutching his sandwich like it was a life raft. “Y-Yeah. That’s me.”

“Cool,” Dylan said, sliding into the seat across from him. “Listen, I’ve kinda noticed you around, and I think you’re, like, pretty cute.”

Logan’s jaw dropped. Was this a prank? It had to be. But Dylan’s smile seemed genuine, and his blue eyes sparkled with something Logan couldn’t quite place.

“Are you serious?” Logan asked cautiously.

“Totally,” Dylan said, leaning in. “How about we hang out this weekend? Just the two of us.”

Logan’s face turned scarlet, but he nodded. “I-I’d like that.”

For the next week, Logan lived in a dream. Dylan picked him up after school, took him out for burgers, and even invited him to watch football practice. Logan couldn’t believe it—Dylan Carter, the most popular guy in school, was into him.

But on Friday night, everything changed. Dylan invited Logan over to his house, promising they’d have the place to themselves. Logan arrived nervously, clutching a bouquet of flowers.

Dylan greeted him at the door, but this time, his usual charm was gone.

“Come on in,” Dylan said, his tone strangely flat.

Logan followed him into the living room, where Dylan suddenly turned and crossed his arms. “Alright, I’ve got something to tell you.”

Logan froze. “What’s going on?”

Dylan smirked, and for the first time, it wasn’t friendly—it was cold. “I’m not gay, dude. Never was. This whole week? Just a joke.”

Logan felt like he’d been punched in the stomach. “W-What? Why would you do that?”

“Because it’s hilarious,” Dylan said, laughing cruelly. “I mean, look at you. Did you really think someone like me would be into... that?” He gestured vaguely at Logan, his face twisted with disdain.

Logan’s eyes filled with tears, but before he could respond, Dylan pulled a strange device from his pocket—a small, glowing orb.

“Don’t worry, though,” Dylan said, his smirk widening. “I’ve got a better idea. I’m gonna help you out, bro. Make you someone who actually fits in.”

“W-What are you talking about?” Logan stammered, backing away.

Dylan pressed a button on the orb, and it erupted with light, engulfing Logan in a wave of energy.

When Logan came to, he felt... different. Gone were his baggy clothes and thin frame. His arms were thick and muscular, his chest broad, and his reflection in the mirror across the room revealed a tan, chiseled jawline and perfectly styled hair.

“Dude, check yourself out!” Dylan said, clapping him on the back. “You’re a whole new man now.”

Logan blinked, his mind foggy. “What the... What happened to me?”

“You’re one of us now,” Dylan said. “No more of that nerd crap. You’re Liam Grant, star linebacker, ladies’ man, and my best bro.”

Logan—no, Liam—stared at his reflection, and as the seconds passed, his confusion melted away. He ran a hand through his hair and grinned. “Damn, I look good.”

“Hell yeah, you do,” Dylan said. “Now let’s get you a girlfriend.”

By Monday, the transformation was complete. Liam Grant walked through the halls of Dalton High with an easy swagger. His old life was a distant memory, and he couldn’t care less about politics, books, or anything remotely “nerdy.” He spent his days in the weight room, his nights partying, and his weekends on the football field.

He’d also picked up a girlfriend—Kelsey Parker, a bubbly cheerleader with long blonde hair and a penchant for giggling at everything he said.

“You’re, like, the hottest guy ever,” Kelsey said one afternoon, clinging to his arm as they walked past the lockers.

“I know, babe,” Liam said, smirking. “What can I say? I’m just that good.”

As he high-fived Dylan and joined the rest of the jocks at their table, Liam felt like he’d finally found his place. The nerdy, awkward kid he’d once been was gone, replaced by someone who fit perfectly into the world of Dalton High’s elite.

And Liam Grant wouldn’t have it any other way.

By the next week Liam Grant strutted through the halls of Dalton High with an effortless confidence that felt entirely natural now. His tan, muscular frame turned heads wherever he went, and he revelled in the attention. At lunch, he joined Dylan and the rest of the jocks at their usual table, where the atmosphere was rowdy and full of testosterone-fuelled banter.

“Yo, bro, you coming to the party Friday night?” Dylan asked, tossing a football from hand to hand.

“Hell yeah,” Liam said, grinning as he leaned back in his chair, his arm draped casually around Kelsey. “Wouldn’t miss it. Gonna be sick.”

“Just make sure none of those GSA weirdos show up,” Dylan said, wrinkling his nose. “I swear, it’s bad enough they’re trying to put up rainbow posters all over the school.”

Liam snorted. “Right? Like, nobody wants to see that crap. They need to just keep it to themselves.”

Kelsey giggled, playing with her blonde curls. “It’s, like, so gross. Why do they think we want to hear about their, like, personal lives?”

“Exactly,” Liam said, shaking his head. “It’s not normal, you know? Guys should be into girls, plain and simple.” He leaned over to kiss Kelsey, making an exaggerated show of it, and the table erupted in laughter and cheers.

As a smaller, more timid student walked past their table, Dylan nudged Liam. “Yo, isn’t that Joey? He’s in that LGBTQ club or whatever.”

Liam smirked. “Hey, Joey!” he called out loudly, his voice dripping with mockery. “Looking fabulous today, bro! Love the shirt—did you steal it from your boyfriend?”

The table roared with laughter, and Joey flushed red, hurrying away without saying a word.

“Man, I don’t know how they walk around like that,” Dylan said, shaking his head. “Like, do they think anyone actually respects them?”

Liam shrugged, popping a chip into his mouth. “They’re probably just jealous ‘cause no one’s ever gonna want them. Not like us, anyway.”

The jocks howled with laughter, their confidence bolstered by the reactions of everyone around them.

Later that week, Liam and Dylan showed up at the biggest party of the year, hosted by one of the cheerleaders. The house was packed with students, the music blaring, and red Solo cups being passed around like candy.

“Yo, this party’s lit,” Liam said, clinking his cup against Dylan’s.

“Damn right,” Dylan said, scanning the crowd. “This is what it’s all about, bro. None of that nerdy, activist crap you used to waste your time on.”

“Don’t even remember any of that,” Liam said, grinning. “Feels like it happened to someone else.”

“Exactly,” Dylan said, smirking. “You’re one of us now, man. Ain’t no room in this world for losers who care about that social justice junk. We’re winners.”

“Hell yeah,” Liam said, downing his drink. “And winners don’t waste time on people who don’t matter.”

The two high-fived, basking in the glow of their new world.

[whizzing-fizzbee]

Show Me What Love Is

(Sequel to "This Is How It Starts")

Sebastian Sallow x Reader (Female MC)

Rating: Explicit 18+, MDNI (shameless smut, profanity), all characters are 18+ Words: 7,356 Themes: friends to lovers, shameless smut, fluff and smut

Summary: In the weeks after your breakup with Andrew Larson, you and Sebastian Sallow waste no time making up for lost time. But it's impossible to study for your N.E.W.T.s when you can't keep your hands off each other.

Notes: I had so much fun writing "This Is How It Starts," I needed to write a continuation. I recommend reading that first. Just more shameless smut. Loosely inspired by "Happiness" by The 1975.

I promise to ease up on the shameless smutty one-shots and focus on my chapter fics now. I'm probably lying.

Read on AO3 or below the cut.

“I heard she dumped Larson because he’s a virgin.”

“No, I heard it was because he didn’t quite… measure up to Sallow, if you know what I mean.”

“Wait, I thought she was hooking up with Gaunt now.”

A snort escaped before you could suppress it. If the rumors hadn’t been so ridiculous, you may have found them insufferable. Instead, you and Sebastian Sallow were currently cozied up in a secluded corner of the library, where you – and your classmates – were supposed to be studying.

Sebastian clapped a hand over your mouth to stifle your laughter as he fought to conceal his own. He had you pinned against the bookshelves, his body pressing yours against the rows of wood and bound pages as you struggled to remain quiet. Shielded by bookshelves, the two of you had decided to postpone your study session for a quick snog.

It had been two weeks since your breakup with Andrew Larson, and the Hogwarts rumor mill was still churning. Given that you didn’t hide your new romance with Sebastian, whispers spread like wildfire through the castle walls. And while you weren’t particularly happy about them, you didn’t really care.

Because for the first time in months, you were satisfied. My god were you satisfied. 

You and Sebastian had wasted no time making up for lost time. Your relationship with him fulfilled you in ways Andrew couldn’t have even considered, physically and emotionally. 

Despite all the sex you and Sebastian were having, your bond had strengthened and you found yourselves falling easily into the routine of a seasoned couple. Sure, the early stages of any romance were always more fiery, more passionate, more electrifying, but the two of you seemed to have cemented yourselves in each other’s hearts for the long run. 

With both of your feelings out and in the open, there were no more secrets or unspoken words. You and Sebastian were simpatico; two people who were content in simply spending time together – though most of that time was spent in various states of undress, engaged in salacious activities.

As your giggles subsided, Sebastian smirked, dipping his head to kiss your neck. He smelled like the cinnamon you’d watched him sprinkle in his tea that morning. The sensation of his lips pressed against your skin drew a moan from your lips.

You froze, your wide-eyed gaze shifting sideways toward the end of the aisle as you and Sebastian held your breaths. When no one seemed to have overheard your indiscretion, Sebastian shot you an amused smirk.

“You’re going to have to learn to be much quieter if we’re going to stay here,” he murmured.

“It’s not my fault!” you hissed. “You know my neck is a sensitive spot.”

“Precisely why I did it.”

“You’re cruel.”

“You’re not complaining.”

“I’ll burn your house down.”

Sebastian breathed a soft chuckle. “No need for such violence,” he hummed before he pecked an affectionate kiss to your forehead. “Besides, it’ll be your house too someday.”

Sebastian spoke of your future with such certainty, it was both thrilling and dizzying. You had no doubt he was the only person you’d ever want to spend your life with. You knew that long before the first time he touched you or told you he loved you. The two of you had far too much history, and now that you knew one another sexually, you had ruined your futures with anyone else for life. 

Now, Sebastian referred to himself as “We” – as in the two of you, a couple. His plans for graduation, your careers, your home, were your plans now. His future was your future and he wasn’t shy about letting others know.

But you still had three weeks remaining as Hogwarts students. Your N.E.W.T.s were set to begin the following day, which was the only reason you were standing in the library instead of romping around in bed like you’d done the previous night.

You knew your romance with Sebastian wouldn’t be perfect forever. Neither of you were perfect, and you certainly didn’t expect your relationship to remain that way. Sebastian could be impulsive, stubborn and downright stupid when it came to making decisions. You were snarky, ambitious and strong-willed. Your past friendship together was all the proof you needed that the two of you would inevitably have fights and shouting matches. But it was also proof that the two of you could overcome anything – especially if it meant the make-up sex would make it all worthwhile.

Yet as satisfied as you were, you were still insatiable. You couldn’t get enough of Sebastian, even though he’d been your best friend for nearly three years. But you were his girlfriend now, and that made you see him in an entirely different light.

You were his first real girlfriend. He’d never bothered to craft much connection or meaning to any of the girls he’d hooked up with in the past. You had always chalked it up to his short attention span and impulsive ways. You hadn’t known it was because he’d been waiting for you.

Today though, he was clearly tired of waiting. You’d spent the morning with your noses buried in books, seated at one of the long tables at the center of the library, until you felt Sebastian’s attention vacate his Astronomy notes. His stare fell on you; the way you softly sighed while you contemplated the spell theories in your book; the way you subconsciously chewed your bottom lip as you scribbled in your notes; the way the hem of your skirt creeped upward when you crossed your legs. 

He looked at you like you were the last piece of dessert he’d ever get to consume. He’d always looked at you like that, but you failed to notice until now. Only recently had you come to learn just how much power you held over Sebastian Sallow.

Now, you’d seen the way he whimpers at your touch; the way he grits his teeth and clenches his fists whenever you climax around him; the way his chest heaves when he watches you undress. But you also had seen the way he beams when he makes you laugh with a lewd joke; the way he always pours your morning tea before his own; the way he lets you steal all the blankets and covers at night, only to smile at you with sleepy eyes the following morning. You’d ruined Sebastian Sallow far more than either of you thought possible.

But now Sebastian had you pressed against those bookshelves, his hips guarding you from daring to move. He stood with one foot between yours as he leaned into a deep, slow kiss, the top of his thigh pressing against the apex of your thighs. Your hands gripped the front of his shirt, tightening with impatience. 

“Careful, darling,” he murmured. “You’ve already ruined two of my shirts.”

“I’ll ruin your life if you don’t fuck me already.”

He didn’t bother to bury his laugh this time. It erupted from his throat and echoed through the aisle, sure to draw attention this time. The two of you swapped a glance and Sebastian shrugged. He brandished his wand from his back pocket as he held your gaze, and with a fluid wave, cast a Disillusionment charm.

You quickly did the same, disappearing against the rows of books such as Sophronia Franklin came curiously wandering into the aisle. Once she was gone, you caught the glimmer of Sebastian’s outline moving toward the Restricted Section. You followed him quietly through the gate and down the stairs, a route you could navigate with your eyes closed after three years of illicit exploits.

Once you reached the storage room at the bottom, you and Sebastian shed your charms and hurried toward a desk that had been shoved against a wall. Without a word, you backed Sebastian into the desk and clung to his shoulders as you kissed him. His hands snapped to your waist, the melt of your curves triggering his arousal.

He groaned as you stepped closer, your hip pressing against his front to facilitate his erection. You were certain you’d never grow tired of the power you felt every time you made Sebastian’s best asset stand at attention.

You palmed his erection over his pants, dragging your fingers across his hard length. He hummed at the friction, his heavy panting exposing his anticipation.

Your hands fumbled with his belt buckle and zipper before you shoved his pants and boxers to the floor in a heap, his cock springing from their confines. You took it in one hand, your fingers circling around the shaft while you swiped a thumb across the tip. Sebastian twitched at the touch.

You watched him with glee, drunk on the way his jaw clenched and breath hitched. It was the most fun you’d had in ages. He couldn’t help but smile at your proud expression, a sign he was also aware of the power held.

“You’re evil, you know that?” he murmured. 

“You made me this way.” 

You pumped him steadily, his breaths increasing with your pace as he leaned backward against the desk. You tore your gaze from his blissful expression to examine his cock in your hands, the tip glistening with his arousal.

Dropping to a crouch, you guided him into your mouth, your hands gripping the backs of his thighs as you relaxed your jaw. Sebastian balled your hair into his fist as he gazed downward to admire you as you worked.

“I love you so goddamn much,” he growled. 

You hummed a reply that sent vibrations around his cock, forcing a groan from him. His tip hit the back of your throat and you squeezed your own thumbs into your palms as you held him there for as long as you could stand it.

When your throat released him, you sucked your cheeks in hard as your lips returned to stroking his shaft. The storage room echoed with the sounds of your sins, punctuated by Sebastian’s grunts and moans. His reactions to your hungry mouth piqued your own arousal, your knees parted as you remained in a squat. 

You couldn't help but drop one hand between your own legs, your fingers coating themselves from the pool that had gathered at your entrance. You dipped a finger inside yourself, the warmth of your own core a stark contrast to the cool air of the dark storage room. 

You used your own fingers to dig at your ache, though they didn’t feel nearly as good as Sebastian’s. You willed yourself to remain patient as you focused on his pleasure, knowing damn well he’d never fail to return the favor.

You removed your soaked fingers and used that same hand to stroke Sebastian’s cock, the new moisture earning a groan from him. The sight of it all – his cock covered in a cocktail of your arousal and spit – was overwhelming.

He dipped his head backward, his eyes squeezed shut as he tugged your hair tighter. You’d come to learn that as a sign he was losing control.

You replaced your hand with your mouth, the taste of yourself spreading over the flesh of his length as you flattened your tongue against Sebastian’s shaft. It dragged up and over the tip, tracing teasing circles around the head. 

Sebastian panted harder, his lungs laboring as he dared to open his eyes again. You met them with your own gaze, your eyes watching him with wonder and lust. The vision of your doe-eyed stare and his cock disappearing into your mouth made him whimper, a sound that made your own core throb. 

You flicked your tongue and Sebastian tensed. Your hollowed cheeks began to sting, but you quickened your pace, your nails digging into the backs of his thighs as you relaxed your throat to gurgle around his tip at a frenetic rate.

A sharp, sudden pain seared over your scalp as Sebastian lost control, his fist yanking your hair and his hips thrusting forward as he finished. His climax hit the back of your throat, thick and hot, as your head continued to bob in determination to drain him completely. He grunted as his orgasm subsided, his sensitive cock twitching the remnants of his seed over your tongue.

His cock fell from your mouth as you swallowed, one hand still pressed into the back of his thigh while he caught his breath. Meanwhile, your anticipation seeped from your entrance, soaking through your panties. 

You sank to your knees, tired from your performance and aching for your own relief. You glanced upward at Sebastian, who gazed at you affectionately through heavy eyelids. He extended a hand to you to help you to your feet. You rose slowly, the motion crafting more pressure within your core.

Sebastian pulled you into a slow, deliberate kiss. His hand ventured between your thighs as he reveled in the wet warmth surrounding his fingers. He pushed you up onto the desk, your legs dangling from the edge as he stood between them and paused to kiss you again.

“Naughty naughty, you’ll get caughty!”

You gasped at the sudden intrusion as Sebastian spun to look for the source.

“Peeves!”

The poltergeist hovered in the doorway, laughing as he took in the scene. You straightened and slid off the desk, smoothing your clothes in an attempt to salvage some dignity while Sebastian hurriedly pulled his pants up.

“Wicked little seventh years, how shameful you are!” Peeves declared, though his eyes appeared to be laughing. 

“Get out, you perverse fucking voyeur!” Sebastian snapped. Peeves cackled. 

“Peeves knows this isn't the first time Sebastian Sallow has defiled the Restricted Section. Peeves will miss all this fun once the naughty seventh years graduate! Consider this secret his parting gift!”

He disappeared through the wall, his cackles echoing through the stone. Sebastian uttered a groan of disgust while your heart rate recovered from the abrupt imposition.

You heaved a sigh when Peeves’ laughter had faded. “Well, I suppose we’d better get back up there in case he actually sends someone to check,” you said. Sebastian was clearly still annoyed, but flashed you an apologetic grin.

“Sorry, darling,” he said as he hooked an arm around your waist to pull you in for a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll make it up to you later.”

You held him to that promise as soon as you could.

---

Two days later, you and Sebastian relocated your study spot to a place that was much more private. The library was packed with students that day, including your ex-boyfriend who glared daggers at you the moment you walked in.

You felt bad for the way things ended with Andrew. He wasn’t a bad person but he’d been a bad boyfriend. He neglected you, dismissed your wants and needs and didn’t take you seriously. Still, he probably didn’t deserve the scene you caused when you broke up with him – not that it had been your idea. 

You had wanted to end the relationship quietly, but Sebastian practically skipped into the library with you on his arm minutes after you’d been moaning his name in the Room of Requirement. The two of you found Andrew sitting at that same study table and Sebastian marched you right up to him, where you told him the two of you were over. Then Sebastian paraded you into the Great Hall, you still wearing his sweater, where he didn’t bother to hide his affection for you during dinner. Afterward, you dragged him to the Undercroft for another round.

Sebastian found it hilarious when Andrew glowered at you in the library again, but you steered him back into the Central Hall to avoid any confrontation. You really did need to study that day. Your History of Magic exam was scheduled for the following morning and you were one of the many students who hadn’t paid much attention during class for the duration of the term.

But Ominis had banished you and Sebastian from the Undercroft for the week after he discovered the two of you in an obscene position the previous day. 

“The Undercroft ?” he had uttered in disbelief. “Is nothing sacred anymore?”

So today, you and Sebastian sat in the Room of Requirement, your stacks of spellbooks and scrolls scattered over a study table.

Sebastian had lost concentration ages ago. He twirled his wand in one hand while he watched you study. You’d already scolded him twice for being disruptive, and despite his mounting boredom, he knew your exams were important so he did his best to keep quiet.

After three hours of painfully mundane reading, you sighed and sat back in your chair, your eyes tired from straining over your textbooks.

“Ready for a break?” Sebastian asked eagerly. Your gaze drifted over his notes and you snorted as you studied the doodles and drawings he’d made on the edges of the parchment.

“Is that… Ominis?” you asked, squinting at one of the doodles.

“Riding a dragon, yes.”

You laughed and fiddled with your wand, appreciative of the comic relief. But Sebastian’s gaze had shifted and you immediately recognized the way his eyes were darkening with desire. They drifted to your chest, but you crossed your arms to obstruct his view.

“Sebastian…” you warned. “We need to study.”

“We’ve been studying!” he whined. “For three hours. Surely you could use a break. Wasn’t this the exact thing you were anguishing over just weeks ago with Larson?”

“Andrew went weeks without touching me,” you pointed out. “I just fucked you yesterday.”

“Feels like it’s been weeks.”

You rolled your eyes but crossed your legs beneath the table. You, too, were antsy with arousal, but were determined to assert your self-control this time. You’d given in to Sebastian every time until now – not that you’d needed any persuading. 

Sebastian leaned closer to you, his hand skimming the top of your knee beneath the table. He was challenging you. He knew your resistance was thin. But he didn’t know you were intent on affirming your power.

His thumb began tracing tiny circles against your thigh and you clenched your jaw. He seemed to notice the twitch in your facial expression because his puppy dog eyes lit up with amusement. Slowly, his hand snaked toward your entrance until two fingers gently brushed over the smooth fabric of your panties.

You fought to maintain a stoic expression, even as a finger pressed into your clit, but a hitch in your breath betrayed you. Sebastian smirked.

“No!” you said firmly as you snapped your knees together to force Sebastian’s hand away. “Sebastian, I want to study.”

“Judging from how wet you are, darling, I don’t think I believe you.”

You huffed an exhausted puff of air. “Okay, so maybe I don’t want to study, but I need to.”

“Do you need it as much as you need to come right now?”

Your eyes widened at his audacity, but you folded your arms in firm denial. “We can address that later,” you said, praying the pitch of your voice wouldn’t expose the filthy thoughts circulating inside your head.

But per usual, Sebastian saw right through you. He lounged backward in his chair, his legs stretched out as he continued to smirk. “You’re a terrible liar, you know that, darling?”

You scowled at him in annoyance and rose to your feet. A book in one hand and your wand in the other, you strode to the sofa that sat six feet away. Sebastian moved as if he were going to follow you, but you pointed your wand at him.

“Hey now! Watch where you point that thing!”

In one fluid flick, your wand emitted a milky haze of dancing white light. You cast a faint glowing line through the air between the table and the sofa until it stretched the entire length of the room. It glimmered and danced as you reached toward it with one palm open. Your hand recoiled against it, confirming that your barrier charm had worked.

Sebastian’s mouth fell open in protest.

“There,” you said indignantly. “Now there will be no temptations.”

“And just how do you expect to leave?” Sebastian demanded.

“The barrier should only last an hour or so, maybe even less. I think we’ll survive.”

Sebastian pouted in his chair as you settled onto the sofa with your book in your lap. You tucked your legs beneath yourself and continued your reading about the Warlocks' Convention of 1709.

In hindsight, choosing the most dreadfully boring subject to study while your boyfriend stared at you with bedroom eyes was probably a poor decision. Soon, your eyes glazed over and you realized you’d read the same page three times with no memory of its contents.

You looked up and were unsurprised to find Sebastian watching you. He quirked an eyebrow at you and you rolled your eyes in an attempt to feign disinterest. But you couldn’t resist the urge to sneak a peek at him from the corner of your eye.

He looked so damn good that day. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, exposing his forearms, and his hair was particularly messy from waking up late that morning. You imagined those strong arms lifting you onto that study table, where you’d sprawl out as he stood and fucked you.

The image lingered in your head for just a moment too long, and you knew you were a goner.

“Fuck,” you hissed under your breath, annoyed at Sebastian for trying to rile you up. He’d succeeded but now, you both were paying for it. It made you want to strangle him – as soon as you were done riding him into the ground.

But now that stupid barrier lingered between you, and there was no possible way you could wait for it to fall. You could already feel the swell mounting within your core. It made you shift on the sofa, the movement heightening the sensitivity between your legs.

The usual cool of the Room of Requirement felt suffocating. Your cheeks were starting to flush and you knew studying was a lost cause. As you stole another glance at Sebastian, who still lounged quietly in his chair with his legs stretched, you decided the least you could do was have some fun with your situation. Maybe next time, he’d think twice before distracting you – and for trying to challenge you.

You heaved a dramatic, audible sigh as you snapped your book shut. It went forgotten on the sofa next to you as you ran a slow, deliberate hand over your neck.

Sebastian watched you in guarded silence. Slowly, you began to unbutton your blouse, your fingers working carefully as you exposed more and more of your chest.

Sebastian straightened in his chair, sitting upright with his hands on his knees. “What the hell are you doing?” he growled. Your only reply was a silent, fleeting glance and a sinister smile.

Your blouse fell open and your legs followed suit. The hem of your skirt guarded your core, so you slowly hiked it up, pulling it backward to expose what lay beneath.

Sebastian already knew what was waiting. Your soaked panties covered your entrance. He let out a sharp exhale at the sight, his hands gripping his kneecaps as you ran a hand from your neck downward, dragging over one breast and across your stomach until it found the fabric protecting your cunt. Your legs opened wider. 

You gently ran a finger over your slit, the friction from the fabric provoking a low moan. You dared to look at Sebastian, who was looking positively distraught over the sight before him. 

Good.

You continued to rub your clothed entrance with two fingers until you decided your panties had become too restrictive. As Sebastian’s stare remained locked between your legs, you teased him by running a finger along the edge of the fabric.

“Please,” he rasped. You tugged your panties to the side. You could hear him whimper.

One finger dipped quickly inside your swollen cunt, the moisture coating it immediately. You pulled it out and your arousal glistened over your fingers. You used the moisture to coat your clit, your fingers gliding over the little bundle of nerves until the absence of something inside you was overwhelming.

You dabbed two fingers inside yourself and moaned as your walls clenched desperately around them. As you worked your own core, you sank lower into the sofa, your legs spread wide and your teeth tugging at your bottom lip.

Sebastian dropped his head backward for a moment, his face contorted in absolute anguish as he stared at the ceiling for a moment. It almost appeared as if he was in pain.

The sounds of you fucking yourself echoed, exposing your act to the poor portraits lining the walls. Your moans filled the room. You dug desperately inside yourself, your fingers beckoning and coaxing a release, the cadence of your breathy moans reflecting your nearing climax.

Sebastian’s hands were gripping the seat of his chair, his knuckles bright white as he watched. You almost felt sorry for him. Almost .

He swiped at his face with his hand, as if he were trying to stifle another whimper. The peak in his pants looked positively painful. You couldn’t help but feel impressed that he had managed to refrain from any attempts to relieve his own arousal. 

But your dripping need was more important. Finally, your eyes fell shut and you had to picture Sebastian’s face as you became too immersed in the heat that was coursing between your legs.

“Mmm, I’m going to come, Seb,” you managed to whine. He swore under his breath.

With your eyes squeezed shut and your walls squeezed even tighter, your fingers drove at your sweet spot and your palm dragged against your clit. You moved with vigor despite your tiring arm. 

Finally, you knew you were close. You wanted to sneak one more glance at Sebastian. You knew he was positively reeling. But you were feeling too selfish and too needy; your release was too demanding.

So instead, you moaned his name. It was followed with a grating cry that had formed deep in your throat. You came so hard, it felt like your walls were pounding around your fingers. You held them in place, clutching at yourself as you tried to prolong the sensation.

When it finally subsided, your heart was still pounding and your eyes peeled open. The room took a moment to fall into focus, but through the haze, you could see Sebastian’s form. 

He slumped in his chair, shoulders forward and knees bent. He looked positively miserable, as if he’d been dragged through absolute hell. 

“Sebastian?”

“Yeah?”

“You alright?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you… do you want to… take your turn?”

“No. I… don’t need to.”

Your eyes fell to his lap. “Oh.”

Now, you were feeling torn between guilt and pride; remorseful for making your poor boyfriend sit through such a sinful act; proud of the clear power you held over him. But this was his fault. You were perfectly content on studying until he decided to exhibit such feral behavior. You were simply matching his conduct. And now you knew you could make him come without even touching him.

But you were also physically spent. The magic barrier continued to glimmer across the room as you redressed yourself. Sebastian watched you quietly, his expression sedated and sleepy.

You nearly laughed as you realized he looked more spent than you did. But even the relief you had given yourself could never match the absolute euphoria of Sebastian’s touch. You already found yourself wanting it as soon as possible.

With time to spare as you waited for the barrier to fade, you tried to return to your reading. But now, your prior tension was replaced with a sluggish post-orgasm haze that made you drowsy. So instead, you curled up on the sofa with your head on the arm rest, asleep within minutes.

A gentle nudge pulled you from your nap. You sat up to find Sebastian lounging on the sofa next to you. 

“Seb?”

“Hey, darling.”

“How long was I asleep?”

Sebastian consulted his pocket watch. “Little over two hours.”

“Two hours ? Why did you let me sleep that long?”

“You looked like you needed it. Especially after that grand… performance you put on.”

Your cheeks flushed and you noticed Sebastian was wearing a new pair of trousers. “Did you… where did-”

“I went back to my dorm to change,” Sebastian explained. His cool, calm demeanor caught you off guard. You had been certain he’d be eager to ravish – or punish – you for your earlier antics. “Dinner’s going to start soon. You hungry?”

“I should be studying,” you groaned as you realized you had wasted an entire afternoon. The History of Magic exam was tomorrow.

“I’ll tell you what, love. How about we go grab some dinner and then you can study in peace and quiet. I’ll use the time to visit Anne,” Sebastian offered.

You blinked at him, your suspicion raised instantly. “Visit Anne,” you repeated blankly.

“Yes, Anne. You know, my sister?”

Something didn’t feel right. You knew Sebastian. You’d spent the past two weeks attached at the hip – literally and figuratively – and you couldn’t believe he’d be willing to spend the evening apart so willingly.

“You’re not going to punish me?” you asked stupidly. “For earlier?”

Sebastian barked a laugh. “What for, darling? How could I possibly be upset about having such an independent girlfriend?”

“Independent?”

“Yes, independent. Clearly you can take care of yourself. You don’t need me.”

Ah, there it was. His gameplay. You knew he wouldn’t let you off the hook. He was going to withhold sex from you as punishment. He’d seen how you agonized when Andrew had denied you for weeks, but he knew this would be much worse. You liked Andrew but you loved Sebastian. You’d spent the past two weeks absolutely enamored by the way he ruined you. 

This would become a game; a contest to see who could pretend to care less. And you’d give it your best performing act. Because you knew Sebastian, too. He was merely a man; a man who couldn’t contain himself at the mere sight of you falling apart hours earlier. 

So instead of protesting, you flashed him your prettiest smile and draped your arms around him in a hug, feigning gratitude for a night off.

—

Your gratitude was short-lived. You went to bed alone that night, tired after an evening of actual studying in the Room of Requirement by yourself. But by midnight, you were tossing and turning in distress over the excruciating ache that had returned between your legs.

Sebastian sauntered into the Great Hall the next morning and pressed a kiss to your temple as he slid into the seat next to you.

“Get all your studying done?” he asked casually.

“I know more about the outlawing of dragon breeding than I know the back of my hand,” you sighed. “How’s Anne?”

“She’s good,” Sebastian answered as he heaped a pile of eggs onto his plate. “I, uh… told her about us.”

You froze mid-bite into a slice of pineapple. “You did?”

“Relax,” Sebastian chuckled. “She’s thrilled for us. I knew she would be. She claims she knew all along that we’d end up together.”

You spent the remainder of breakfast quizzing each other for your exams, but beneath the table, you squirmed, annoyed that Sebastian had managed to appear so nonchalant over your lack of intimacy the previous night. What you didn’t know was that he’d spent the later hours of the evening relieving himself – twice – at the memory of what you’d done in the Room of Requirement.

The day’s exams didn’t end until late afternoon, meaning you didn’t see Sebastian again until dinner. You were dissecting the answers to the Arithmancy exam with Imelda Reyes when Sebastian appeared, lowering himself across from you.

“Survive that Muggle Studies exam, Sallow?” Imelda asked. 

“Easily,” Sebastian answered as he shifted his gaze to you.

“How was History of Magic?” he asked.

“Dreadful, but I think I aced it,” you answered.

“That’s my girl.”

Imelda rolled her eyes and redirected the conversation to her upcoming tryout with the Montrose Magpies. 

You listened to the details, genuinely happy your friend was close to securing her dream, but you couldn’t avert your eyes from Sebastian who was watching you quietly. When your eyes locked, he reached for an apple from the bowl on the table.

You narrowed your eyes in a silent quizzical stare as Imelda rambled on, her voice fading to a background hum as Sebastian took a slow and deliberate bite from the apple. His jaw closed and you could practically hear him sucking the juice from the apple’s skin. He chewed carefully and swallowed before he ran his tongue over his bottom lip, his eyes still on yours.

Your hips shifted in your seat. Sebastian noticed and smirked. 

You spent the remainder of the meal pretending Imelda’s quidditch tryout was the most fascinating thing you’d ever heard.

Students spent that evening enjoying the extended curfew that only came during exam week. Many lingered in the Great Hall while others scattered across the school grounds to take advantage of the warm evening. The rest retreated to the library to continue their studying.

You, however, didn’t make it down the steps to the Viaduct Courtyard before Sebastian was steering you toward the dungeons.

You greeted the few familiar faces in the Slytherin Common Room until Sebastian impatiently prodded you with his knee. After ascending the steps to the boys’ dormitories, he ushered you inside his room and kicked the door shut. The room was empty, his roommates likely out enjoying the evening, and you couldn’t wait to enjoy yours.

“Thought you were going to make me wait,” you teased as you slid yourself backward onto the bed, your legs dangling off the side.

“That was me making you wait,” Sebastian growled. You snorted.

“Seb, that was one day,” you noted.

“And that was more than enough.”

His admission that he couldn’t bear more than one day without burying himself inside you was exhilarating.

Sebastian all but dove for you, his hands clawing at your shoes and tights. Your skirt and panties followed until only your blouse and bra remained. 

Sebastian groaned at the sight of your entrance, which was already slick with anticipation. His arms hooked around your legs, yanking you to the edge of the bed.

“You’ve been fucking killing me,” he whined as he lowered himself between your legs.

A low, slow sigh left your lips the moment his tongue made contact with your entrance. He lapped at you in so much earnest, you could feel his breaths against your swollen skin.

He planted a kiss to your clit before a finger teased your folds. Your hips rocked in agony, your cunt desperate to swallow any part of Sebastian he’d allow. 

Two fingers sank into you and you instantly scolded yourself for thinking your own hands were worth a damn while in the Room of Requirement the previous day. Nothing felt as good as Sebastian. 

You moaned as you stretched around his fingers, your wet arousal making him hiss. 

“Fucking hell.”

He pulled his hand away and you whimpered in protest, though your frustration was short-lived as you watched him suck his fingers. It was an erotic vision that made your nipples harden.

“Better than any stupid apple,” he murmured. And his mouth returned to you again.

Fists balled the bed covers in your hands as your back sank deeper into the bed while you lifted your hips and gasped for more; more pressure, more relief, more Sebastian. His tongue teased your clit until his entire mouth was around your entrance, sucking at your flesh.

“Fuck, Seb. I’m so close.”

You could feel his tongue flatten over your clit in brisk swipes. The sound that vibrated from your throat was more of a pulsing hum than a moan as your eyes clamped shut, your focus drilled on the edge of your looming orgasm.

“Seb, I’m going to c-”

And then, silence. The pressure and heat was gone in an instant and your eyes shot open. Sebastian loomed over you, his glistening lips parted in a smug grin.

It was infuriating. You were splayed out, exposed and vulnerable, and your boyfriend had the audacity to tease and torture you. You wanted to curse him, hex him and pummel him with your fists.

But the best you could manage was a sharp, pained whine. And Sebastian, that cruel, conniving prick, responded with a short and maniacal laugh.

You glared, your cheeks flushed and your entrance seeping, determined to get your release. Maybe he was right. Maybe you’d just have to be an independent woman.

Your hand snapped to your entrance, fingers working frantically. It caught Sebastian off guard and he moved quickly to pin your hands to the bed above your head. You kicked your feet and he forced himself on top of you, more weight pushing your wrists downward into the mattress.

“Not yet,” he growled. “You’re going to wait for me. Understand?” You nodded in compliance. 

Sebastian didn’t speak as he returned to his feet. You watched with dark eyes as he reached for his belt, the buckle clinking softly as it released. His pants dropped to the floor, followed by his boxers. He slid his shirt overhead and stepped out of the heap of clothes on the floor, his erection bobbing as he moved.

He crawled over you again, one of his knees deliberately placed between your thighs, inches from your entrance. One hand worked slowly at the buttons of your blouse, addressing them one-by-one until your chest was exposed. 

That same hand snaked its way beneath you, fingers fiddling with the clasp of your bra until it snapped apart, your breasts falling from its hold. Sebastian helped you from your shirt and bra, leaving you completely bare beneath him.

“So fucking perfect,” he said. You shifted miserably beneath him. 

He lowered his mouth to your right breast, his tongue tracing slowly over your nipple. The bed creaked as his knee shifted closer, pressing itself against your cunt. You whimpered, certain that your body was going to catch fire.

Sebastian cupped your breast, pressing a trail of kisses to your neck where you could feel him smiling into your skin. His knee twitched and he snorted against the crook of your neck.

“You are so fucking wet,” he laughed. 

You narrowed your eyes in ire, but the pressure of skin against your entrance was intoxicating. You couldn’t help yourself. You bucked your hips, grinding your folds against Sebastian’s leg.

He looked ecstatic. 

“And I thought I was a pathetic mess in the Room of Requirement yesterday,” he mused as he gazed down at you. “But look at you, trying to fall apart against my fucking leg .”

If it hadn’t been for the students lounging in the Common Room below, you would have screamed. Or murdered him.

Sebastian pulled away to stand over you, the cool room coursing over your skin without his warmth.

“You know,” Sebastian murmured. “All you have to do is ask nicely.”

“Please,” you breathed. Your chest heaved and your hips rocked against nothing. It was shameful but you were void of any dignity now.

“That’s better.” You couldn’t help but pout at him and he grinned. “You know, darling, I don’t like making you wait either. My self-restraint has been hanging by a thread all day.”

“Then stop making me wait,” you growled. “ Please .”

Hearing you beg with authority was his final undoing. Sebastian liked to dominate you, but he liked your fiery attitude even more. It was what made him fall so stupidly in love with you in the first place. 

He pushed your legs apart and stood between them, his eyes drinking in the way your body was laid out for him, your breasts bouncing with every movement. 

The tip of his cock pressed against your entrance and you moaned in relief as you felt it settle inside you, pushing and stretching you until you were filled.

“I have to say,” Sebastian panted as he paused to allow your walls to adjust to his size. “I quite like the view from up here. Can’t wait to watch you fall apart beneath me.”

“Then hurry the fuck up,” you hissed. Sebastian beamed at you.

He started slow, pulling his cock until the head lingered near the folds of your entrance before he rocked his hips forward, sinking into you until he was fully sheathed again. His plan had been to tease you like this for quite some time, with leisurely, deliberate strokes slow enough that you’d feel every inch of his cock parting your walls. But reality was quite sobering. Soon, Sebastian’s restraint shattered and he was pumping into you at a short, steady pace, his eyes glued to the spot where you were connected. 

“My god,” he choked. The view of your cunt swallowing his length repeatedly turned his brain to mush, but nothing had prepared him for the sight of your wet arousal coating his shaft.

Your moans filled the room, your hands gripping and squeezing your nipples. Sebastian grunted at the sight of you playing with your own breasts, an erotic vision straight from years of his fantasies. 

“God, you take me so well,” he moaned, his hands gripping your hips as he pulled your body into his thrusts.

You were teetering on the edge of ruin, your nerves heightened from the edging Sebastian had given you with his tongue moments ago. He reached down to trace circles over your clit, the extra source of sensation pushing you through the threshold.

“Sebastian!” The cry of his name preceded a sharp gasp as the swelling wave inside you crashed. Your toes curled and your back arched as your walls spasmed and grasped around Sebastian’s cock. 

Sebastian pressed the tip of his cock hard into your sweet spot, coaxing more moisture that dripped down his length while you orgasmed. He held it there until you were done crumbling around him.

“You’re fucking perfect when you come,” Sebastian croaked. He reached for your ankles and pulled them together, lifting them into the air to rest against his shoulder.

He regained a steady rhythm of thrusts, the new position squeezing your tight heat around him. His cock drove upward, drilling hard until you were certain you were too sensitive to handle him.

Sebastian’s grip tightened around your ankles, his thrusts falling out of sync as he began to unravel. The smacking sound reverberated off the walls. But you were too selfish to allow him to quit just yet.

“Seb, I’m close,” you moaned.

Sebastian grunted. “Going to come for me again so soon?” he managed.

“Yes, please. Please .”

His jaw was clenched so tight you feared it would crack, but his cock pounded your cunt harder. The pitch of your moans drifted higher and higher until the peak of the noise matched the peak inside your core. 

“Fuck, I’m going to come,” Sebastian coughed just as your final orgasm tore through your insides. You came so hard, you arched off the bed, your ankles digging downward into Sebastian’s shoulder as you cried out. His knees would have buckled beneath the force if he hadn’t tensed from his own climax, his body going rigid as his cock twitched. He groaned through the sensation until he used your leg to pull your body flush against himself with one final slam, spurting his release inside you.

He remained there, though he was barely able to stand as you wondered if your skeleton had vacated your body. 

“Fucking hell,” Sebastian panted. “Let’s never go that long without each other again.”

“Agreed,” you murmured.

And before you could move apart, the dormitory door swung open and Ominis strode in. He froze dead in his tracks, the tip of his wand glowing vibrant red as he analyzed the scene before him.

“Are you two fucking serious?!”

[abbey28]

Clarisse x Reader - This is a Life

Clarisse x gn! reader

Reader is from the Aphrodite cabin, but only for the plot!

An- Around 3.3k words, sorry it took so long to get out! Hope you guys enjoy this! Let me know if I should write something that kind of does more of a deep dive into this, because I feel like something is missing or something

Warnings- Weapons, fake dating, blood at one point, affection, petnames, guy named Andrew (apologies to any one named Andrew), Aphrodite is a pretty okay mom in this. Pls tell me if I missed anything!

Everybody in camp recognized you as the favored child of Aphrodite. People looked twice when you walked by, flowers bloomed in your direction, and mirrors wished they could reflect you.

Clarisse is the favored daughter of her dad, Ares. People feared her, flowers looked away as she passed, and only a select few could stand to be close to her.

But even those who were close kept a great distance.

That was what was similar between the favorite Aphrodite kid and the favorite Ares daughter.

But even that was comparable, for she was a daughter, and a daughter could never compare to a son in her fathers eyes, whilst your mother seems to love you unconditionally.

You and Clarisse weren't close by any means, but you had always caught each other's attention on some level.

For you, it was how she sparred. Muscles flexing, covered in sweat, and a wild and free grin spread across across. You could find beauty in her that was no wheres else in the camp.

For her, it was the way you held yourself and how you were with young campers. Your slight confidence, the care you have for each camper, and the way you treat others. It was admirable, considering the way that Clarisse was probably the opposite of you.

“-risse, Clarisse, Clarisse!” Clarisse brook out of the slight stupor she was in and looked across the table where her sibling was calling her name and waving his hand around. “Oh, thank the gods. I about almost called over an Apollo kid to check on you.” She rolled her eyes as he laughed a bit.

They were in the dining hall, for it was lunch. Her plate was still quit full as she looked down at it. She was hungry, but she felt as if there was something preventing her from eating.

“Hey, would you look at that.” Her brother was looking past, his eyes holding questions. She turned her head to look over her shoulder and scoffed. There you were, holding your tray and standing talking to Percy Jackson, who was sitting alone at his Poseidon camp table.

That Capture the flag game happened a while ago now, but it was still upsetting how many people still like that kid, even after what he did, although it makes sense with all of the things he has done.

Her grip on her fork tightened, and she glared hard in your direction. Her brother snorted. “You really like them, huh?” She whipped her head back to look at him.

“What? Who?” She softened just slightly after he said your name. “Where did you get that idea?”

“The way you two look at each other. There's a rumor going around that you two are secretly dating each other, but we all know that you would never.”

“Never what?”

“Date anyone. Especially them.” She scoffed again.

“What do you mean?”

“You're not… an emotional person. Everyone knows you couldn't even make a relationship actually work.” She narrowed her eyes at him.

“Fine then.” She slammed her hands against the table and got up, making her way over to you. Percy noticed her first and scrambled to sit up straighter and to not smile. You raised your eyebrow at him, but he nodded his head in Clarisse’s direction and you laughed a little.

“Hey Claris-” you lifted one of your hands up to wave, but once she was close enough she took that hand in hers and then wrapped her other arm around your waist, pulling you towards her in a kiss.

The whole camp seemed to go quiet, and while it wasn't the most emotional kiss, Clarisse was very passionate in how she was kissing you, it was overwhelming to say the least. Your tray dropped, spilling food all over the ground and making a loud crash. Your hand found its way to the back of her neck and you gently tugged on her curls and twirled some of the baby hairs at her nape around your fingers. She broke off the kiss, looking you right in your eyes as you were flustered and tried to reclaim your breath.

“Um, what the-'' Percy began, but before anything else was said Clarisse tugged on your hand and ran towards the forest with you.

“Clarisse, what was that a-”

“Date me.” She blurted out the words before her mind could tell her to not to.

“What- this is super out of the blue, even for you Clarisse!” Clarisse rolled her eyes.

“We can fake dates then. Just for a few months or so.”

“How is that even relevant?!?!”

“If we fake date, then none of it will be real. And then, I get to prove something, and you…well,  I can make sure people dont bother you.” You narrowed your eyes at her.

“But why?” Clarrise sighed deeply and your eyebrows furrowed more.

“Look, people already think we are dating, my sibling thinks I could never be in a relationship, and I don't hate you. Much.” She then looked you up and down in a way that almost made you wish that you were invisible.

“Now, how well can you act?”

The shock of the century happened at camp Half Blood the next morning at breakfast when Clarrise showed up with you attached to her arm. Jaws were on the floor and every table was turned towards your direction.

Clarisse had a proud smirk on her face as she survived the dining hall. Some part of you also felt weirdly proud as well, as if having your arm intertwined with hers was the reason you were at this camp anyway.

She moved you in the direction of the Ares table, an arrangement the two of you had settled on while setting up rules and guidelines. You would sit with her at her table, at least come to most of her training sessions and sit next to her at the bonfires. She would visit the strawberry fields and lake with you, join the craft classes you have with young campers, and on occasions, she would allow you to place a kiss on her while wearing lipstick or lip gloss, making sure to leave a mark.

You both also agreed on minimal kissing, which was a shame since she was a good kisser. Any other types of touches were pretty much guaranteed if the two of you were near each other.

“Goodmorning.” Clarisse greeted the rest of the table, untangling her arm from yours before setting her tray on the table and then sitting down. You did the same, and in an instant, Clarrise wrapped her arm around your waist, situating her hand on your stomach comfortably. You scratched a bit closer to her so your thighs were touching.

A chorus of morning greetings left various peoples mouths and Clarisse hummed a bit. She reached for a bag of apple slices and ripped open the small bag with the help of her teeth. You giggled a bit and nudged her side.

“Honey, that was kind of weird. You know you could've just let go of me, right?” She stared into your eyes mischtifully.

“You lost me at let go.”

It took everything in you to not burst out laughing as a few people around you literally gagged. She winked at you and you grinned at her before the two of you each turned back to your breakfast.

Your chin sat on both of your palms as you sat in the stands right outside of the training grounds, watching as Clarisse took on another camper in a dual. Capture the flag was coming up in about a week, but despite that, many people have come up to you asking if the news that had spread around camp was true.

“Hey, babe, did you see that?” Clarisse was jogging over to you, a smile on her lips. You smiled back at her and once she was close enough moved to stand between your legs, her hands trailed up your thighs lightly before they landed on your waist. You tried your best to ignore the shiver that went through your body.

“I missed it. I’m sorry hun.” You put one of your hands on her shoulder while you fiddled with one of her strands of curls with the other. She let out a breathe, and you could almost swear she was pouting.

She leaned in closer, her lips almost touching your ear. “You're doing good, yeah?” she whispered.

“Yeah.” you whispered back. She moved a little bit back and smirked.

“Good. You keep doin’ that, 'kay sweetheart?” she patted your thigh twice before turning and running back to her training. Your heart skipped one to many times during that interaction.

Please Mother, let me survive this.

The next week and a half went pretty much like that, with you and Clarisse glued to each other's sides for the entirety of the day. She was even somehow able to convince Chiron to put the Aphrodite cabin on the red team.

You were with Clarisse now, getting ready for the capture the flag game. Your armor sat heavily on your shoulders as you did your best to fix all of the straps while following your “girlfriend” and listening to her bark out orders and plans.

Some of your siblings were grouped together all complaining about how much stuff they had to do compared to when they were on the blue team, but you knew that some of them were grateful that Clarisse knew that they were capable to do things that the other cabins could do.

Clarisse looked behind her where you were still struggling with your armor. She sighed and moved closer to you. She carefully took your hand in hers and then tighten your straps so that way it was secure. You watch her face the whole time, finding the way she furrowed her eyebrows in concentration to be quite cute.

“There. You ready to do this?” She looked up, pausing when her eyes met your. The two of you stared at each other for a moment before your eyes flickered to the ground, or at least any wear that wasn't her face.

“Yeah, I am. What did you want me to do again?” She huffed out a laugh and then moved past you.

“All you need to do sweetheart is to follow me.”

Even though you were out of breath, you continued to follow your fake girlfriends footsteps.

Well, it wasn't like you had much of a choice with how tightly she was holding your hand and tugging you along paths.

Out of nowhere, a group of people from the blue team jumped out of the trees and began to attack. Clarisse let go of your hand and brought out her spear, running forward and taking on two people at once.

You took out your provided sword and prayed that your trainings with Clarisse would pay off. Your sword clashed with the sword of a boy from the Hermes cabin, and you recognized him as a guy named Andrew, someone who used to follow you around and flirt with you before you and Clarisse became a temporary item.

“I’ve been wondering if I could even get you alone.” Andrew backed you away from the rest of the group and more into the trees.

“I have a girlfriend, Andrew.” You made sure your voice was stable and hard. You hoped you could get your point across to him, but this is the guy who couldn't take a hint from you before, so it was evident that he wasn't going to start now.

“Come on, everyone knows that you like me. We can tell that Clarisse pressured you into the relationship. The two of you weren't meant to be.” You tripped over a root, sending you falling, hitting the ground hard and hurting your back in the process.

“Me and you were meant to be together. Couldn't you see that I was flirting with you? ‘Cause I could see that you returned the feelings with how you flirted with me.” Your eyes flickered for any type of escape from his anger and jealousy, but there was no safe way out with how he was practically sitting on your stomach. It made you sick with how close his face was to yours.

“Well,” you carefully moved your hand to twirl a longer strand of his hair between your fingers. It was straight, especially compared to Clarisse’s. You tried to ignore how wrong this felt, and you tried to push away the urge to gag. If using the charm you had gotten from your mother would get you out of this, then so be it. “I had no idea you felt like that, sweety. What can I do to make it up to you?”

Charmspeak wasn't against the rules. After all, this was the gift that was given to you from your godly parents.

You watched as his eyes followed your hand as you began to softly caress his face.

This has to be one of the most disgusting things you have ever done.

“So you do like me! I knew th-” Andrew stopped his sentence as his eyes rolled to the back of his head and he flopped off of you to the side. You jumped up, finding yourself in front of your savior.

“Clarisse! You knocked him out! Is that even aloud?!” Clarisse laughed and poked Andrew with the none sharp end of her spear.

“He deserved it. Easiest decision of my li…” you stopped trying to wipe off all of the dirt that had resided on your clothes to raise your eyebrow at her Clarisse.

She was staring at you, her mouth slightly open and an almost entranced look in her eyes.

Was there dirt on your face? Did you somehow use your charmspeak on her?

“Um, Clarisse, maybe we should-'' Before you could finish your sentence, Clarisse had brought her left hand up and gently slid her thumb over your cheek bone.

You guessed that you had gotten a small cut there, and from the small flash of red that appeared and her thumb, you guessed that you were right. She moved it away a bit, and then she pushed back a strand of hair that had begun to obstruct your vision. She kept her hand there then, and you brought up your hand to touch her wrist, a grounding move for you were starting to feel light headed. You stared into eachothers eyes, and what broke you apart was the flinching sound of the games ending conch shell horn.

The blue team had won, another year in a row.

Clarisse sighed and ended the contact, moving away and bending down to pick up your discarded sword. She put it in your hands.

“You weren’t too bad out there. And, you, huh, you looked, um pretty good too.” She nodded, cleared her throat and turned away from you, heading back down the trail, but not before using her foot to push Andrew out of the way more.

For some reason, that was the moment you finally realized how in love you were with your fake girlfriend.

That night, your mother appeared in your dreams for the first time. Sitting on the wood pierre that was feet above the water, with moon light reflected off the liquid, Aphrodite appeared in front of you. With curly brown hair and brown eyes, and that tanned skin that you could swear you had begun to memorize, your mom looked different from what you expected.

“I appear as what you are attracted to,” Aphrodite nudged your shoulder from where she sat beside you. She seemed to respond to what you were thinking. “For you, that's that girlfriend of yours.”

“Fake girlfriend. We aren't really dating.” Aphrodite laughed in a way that made your heart beat a bit faster. That laugh belonged to someone who now had your heart.

“Could… could you switch to look like someone else? This is kind of unnerving to me.” She laughed again and shook her head.

“I can't be here for long, my child.” She change the subject.

“Then why are you here?”

“You're in love somehow. I know that you probably wouldn't tell her without some sort of push.”

You stared at her. She was practically glowing, the sear fabric that was draped on her body floating.

“Hearts aren't meant to hurt, hunny. If you distance yourself, or try to break away from her and move on, then two hearts will get hurt.”

Silence fell over the two of you, just for a moment.

“Mom?”

“Yes?”

“Am I… am I really your favorite? I mean, other people say that, but you've never given me a gift, and I haven't been on a quest, and this is the first time I've even met you. I just-”

“There are many of you, and I have love for each of you and your siblings. But yes, it could be said that I am very proud of you, and what you have accomplished.” Tears started to fill your eyes, though you weren't sure exactly why you were crying.

“Goodbye, my dear.” She softly pressed a kiss to your cheek.

And with that, your mother was gone once again.

Tears were running down your face once you woke up.

You moved off your blankets and got up moving towards the cabin's front doors. It was almost pitch black, and it was easy to tell that it was still night. Maybe just sitting out on the porch and thinking would do you some good.

But right when you were a few steps away, the door started to crack open.

Your mind jumped to many conclusions, like there was a ghost or one of your siblings had stayed out late with their partner. Then you caught sight of the hand that was pushing on the wood.

It was the same hand that has intertwined with yours, the same hand that had held onto your body all week. The same hand that you had seen wielding a sword for years.

“Clarisse?” The door stopped opening, and then Clarisse poked her head through the opening.

She whispered your name back, and you took note about how this was the most sheepish you had ever witnessed her to be. She backed up, and you went out of your cabin to join her.

“Hey.” she whispered.

“Hi.” you whispered back. “What's wrong?” You could swear that her hand twitched in the slightest, like she was about to reach out and hold yours but thought better.

“I, um, had a nightmare. You were the only place I could think to go to. It’s fine now though, so you should go back inside and get your beauty sleep.” She turned away from you, starting to go down the steps back to her cabin.

“Do you like me?” She stood still on the second step down. You walked towards her slowly, and you started to wish you had brought a blanket out with you. The night chill was starting to get to you, and you were starting to wish that you had that type of safe feeling.

“My, um, my mother visited my dreams tonight. And we talked, and I know that we havent really been dating, but i kike you Clarisse, and I kind of hoped, only if you want, if we could kind of be offic-”

A pair of lips crashed into yours before anything else happened. The passion from the first kiss that the two of you had shared was there still, but this time something felt so much more real.

You felt so many emotions, and so did Clarisse, and you knew that she was trying to convey them all to you like this.

Both of her hands were on your face, each one gently holding your cheeks so you could stay in place. Your hands were on her wrists, but you moved them to the back of her neck where you gently tugged on her curls. You smiled into the kiss.

Her hair would always be your favorite.

Clarisse pulled away from the kiss, and laughed when she saw your eyes were still closed. You glared at her a little, but your smile was still present on your face.

“I do.” Clarisse said. You hummed and tilted your head in confusion. Clarisse laughed again a bit.

“I do like you.” Somehow your smile got even bigger.

“So we can kiss anytime now?”

“Anytime, sweetheart.”

[hugheshischier4313]

YOU MISS HIM DON’T YOU | Q. HUGHES

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x reader

Warnings: maybe emotional cheating?

Word count: 2k

Author’s note: Hi lovelies! I was rewatching desperate housewives and a certain scene encouraged me to write something similar. It was supposed to be a quick little Drabble/blurb but im at 10 pages now and still not done. So here’s a snippet :)

———————————————————————

Quinn had known about your boyfriend from the very beginning. He had seen you together, bringing boxes to the apartment beside his, and noticed you immediately. He wished he could say it had all been innocent, but the first thing he saw was how your legs looked in the tennis skirt you had been wearing. You bent down to pick up a fallen pillow as he exited his car in the parking garage. His eyes lingered on you, and he forced himself to turn away before you noticed. He swore he would offer to help you before he met eyes with Andrew as he stepped out of the parking garage elevator.

"I didn't mean to; it just happened. You were bent over, in a skirt, right outside my car; it was hard to look away when I didn't expect you to be there." Quinn had a slight pink tone to his features right now, and you were smiling, trying to suppress a laugh. You stood in the kitchen, pouring the margaritas into your cups.

"You mean the skirt I'm wearing right now? Is that why you mentioned it? Quinn, you could have kept that secret forever. I mean, you couldn't waterboard that information out of me." You were always more giggly when drinking, which was contagious to Quinn. "But since you didn't, I'm gonna use this against you for the foreseeable future."  The laugh left you when you got back to Quinn's couch. "I'll try not to make any sudden movements that may catch you off guard," you teased as you stood before him and handed him his drink.

"It's not funny; I've felt bad about this for months." he tried to be serious, but the smile never left his face. As you nodded with a smirk on your lip, you turned from him after he grabbed the glass, "Y/N, I'm serious." He wasn't; he could never stay upset with you, even in a joking manner. 

"I guess I'll just go back to my apartment then; I don't want to bring back any of your past shame." your body once again turned towards him as you leaned down over to hug him, "Bye, Hughes, I'll make sure to only wear this when you're out of town." He let out a sarcastic 'ha.' "You don't have to leave; I can control myself. I promise." he rolled his eyes and slowly got up to stop you.

"I don't know; I think the only logical answer is to wear your Drew sweats." You had pivoted and ran to his room before he could reply. You had bugged him countless times to try them on over the past months; you had just wanted to see if they were worth the hype because the black sweats had been sold out forever (and maybe, subconsciously, because of your past love for Justin Bieber). And every time he said no, you took this as your opportunity to try them and bug him simultaneously.

Being in Quinn's room was familiar to you. You had spent most days at one of the two apartments, and sometimes that meant laying in his bed watching TV after he had just returned from a string of away games or after a challenging game or practice. You had worn his clothes before, too; it was always in a platonic way, the first time you had locked yourself out after being out on a run when it started raining. You lost your key on the run, and the concierge was gone for the night. You had also spent the night; he let you sleep in his bed and took the couch. 

As you ran into the room, you closed the door behind you and walked into the closet, closing that door, too. You had found the sweats and slowly walked out of the closet. There was no sight of Quinn, and the bedroom door was still closed. You walked towards the door, sweats in your hand, as you called out to him, "Q? Are you -" But you were cut off as he tackled you onto the bed next to you.

The two of you lay on the bed laughing before turning to face each other. The laughter died down, and you were smiling and looking at each other. The two of you lay there for a while, not saying anything until you broke the silence, "Your eyes are a different colour every time I see you, but today I can see every shade in them." You don't know why you needed to share your observation with him, but it felt right. "You cut your hair." He reached out to tuck a strand behind your ear and play with the end of another. His voice had been so him, soft yet dominant. It was true; you had gotten a slight trim the day before and a few longer layers at the bottom of your hair, a small and simple detail that could have been missed. In fact, he was the only person to notice; none of your classmates or even Andrew, although over Facetime, had noticed. 

The room felt heavy as you looked from his hand in your hair to his eyes again, stopping to look at his lips for a second. And when you reached his gaze, it was unreadable. "I -" A phone began to ring as Quinn was about to speak. You could see a shift in his demeanour as you continued to look at him. He got up to find the cause of the sound. "It's your phone." He walked it over to you before heading out to the living room again. The phone illuminated ANDREW CALLING.

You looked towards the empty doorway as you brought the phone up to your ear. "Hey you," your playful voice sounded forced, and the smile on your lips was even more so. "Hey, I have a surprise for you. The notification said it was in the lobby." This shocked you, not only because it was a surprise but because Andrew was never one for small gestures. It was always something big like him ordering 4 dozen roses to your desk after your fourth date. But he had never just sent you or given you something randomly.

Andrew could be a sweet guy; you worked together before he asked you to have dinner with him. You knew you were moving and had no intention of starting anything serious before moving to Vancouver, but he had been so persistent, and it felt nice to have a distraction with all the craziness of moving. But living in different provinces has brought no comfort to either of you. It felt like pen pals most of the time. You would call him a few times a week and talk for an hour before he had to go. There had been a few times where you could have sworn you heard someone else there, but the times you mentioned it, it felt like the fight had been more trouble than the issue itself.

And maybe subconsciously, you felt like a hypocrite. Your relationship with Quinn was platonic, but the number of times you were confused as a couple in public could be seen another way. In fact, you hated to admit it, but it felt like you communicated more with Quinn when he was away than with your boyfriend. 

"There's something for me in the lobby of my apartment complex? Andrew, what did you do? It's 7pm?" As you started talking, Quinn walked into view, bringing your drinks and extending to you. "It's a surprise; you should go get it now; I'm assuming it's just on the concierge desk based on the picture." You stared up at Quinn as you listened to Andrew, "Okay, I'll be down in a minute, and I'll call you back once I have it." The phone call was quickly over. 

"What did you order?" Quinn asked with a smile, used to all the packages you've received. A few that had been too heavy for you to carry on your own that Quinn had taken himself. Even when they hadn't been too heavy, he would carry them for you if he was there. "I'm not sure, Andrew sent it to me." You could have sworn there was a look on his face that was gone as quickly as it appeared. "You want me to go with you in case you need help?" there was no hesitation in your quick reply of 'yes.'

As the two of you walked down the hall, you were overly aware of the distance between you. It was no different than it had been in the past, but there was a particular charge. The words shared and unshared in the bedroom hung heavy. "So I never got to even put the sweats on," you joked while waiting in front of the elevator. "You can borrow them when we get back up if you want," his answer made your breath hitch. He had never let you try them on, much less borrow them.

He looked at you, letting you walk into the elevator first. The ride down was quick and quiet, but how you looked at each other made everything race faster. Your heartbeat quickened as you saw his slight deviation towards your lips before making their way back up. "Quinn," your voice came out as a low plea; whether it was to continue or to stop was uncertain. He stepped closer to you as the two of you stood in silence for a brief moment before the doors opened. As you stepped out, your heart felt heavy.

As you made your way towards the front desk, you saw the back of a man at the desk, but when you heard the voice,  it made you freeze. Andrew, he was in your lobby waiting for you, Quinn failed to notice your pause and ran into you. However, before you could tip forward, Quinn had steadied you with a hand on your arm and waist. Andrew called out when he turned around. 

"Andrew! What are you doing here?" You didn't miss the look he gave the sight of the two of you or how his gaze only lingered on Quinn's hand on your waist as he walked closer. You unhooked yourself from Quinn to hug Andrew. The hug was stiff; he held himself higher, and his head hadn't moved from the position it had been in before. You figured he was still looking at Quinn. 

"I wanted to surprise you; we settled a case earlier than expected, so I took a few days off." You had pulled yourself to his side, a view of both him and Quinn. They kept looking towards each other, completely ignoring you. "Well, Andrew, this is my friend I always tell you about, Quinn. He introduced himself the day I moved in, remember? He lives next door to me." Andrew smiled down at you as you continued. "Quinn, you remember Andrew." Quinn looked from you to Andrew before extending his hand. "Good to see you again, man." Andrew hesitated before shaking his hand. 

There was a quick silence before Quinn grabbed his phone from his pocket and looked at the screen, excusing himself, "I have to make a phone call; I'll see you around," but before he could walk off, you gave him a side hug goodbye. You had done it a thousand times before, and feeling like you couldn't because Andrew was there didn't feel like a good sign, so you did it anyway. "I'll text you," you quietly said as you let go.

The next few days had been uneventful, showing Andrew around Vancouver. The hallway had felt unusually empty each time you passed, hoping to run into Quinn. A string of away games was starting that Monday, and when you came back from dropping off Andrew at the airport on Sunday night, you noticed the bag sitting in front of your apartment door. 

The black sweats were inside with a note, 'I'll pick them up when I'm back. Enjoy :). ~ Q" He never asked for them back

———————————————————————

[palmettoshenanigans]

I fucking- I can't find it right now, but whichever one of you motherfuckers said Andrew's 'lack of control' was actually just intentionally calculated releases of pressure, that he was always in control when he lashed out because he lashed out in very specific and measured degrees - every single 'too far' was always 'just enough', its just no one else saw the raging volcanic inferno brewing just beneath the floorboards cus they were too distracted by how ear piercing the sound of the tea kettle going off was-

You're so sexy and I love you, but I wanna respond to you in spirit cus I can't find your post babes

We love 'biblically accurate' and 'devil's sacrament' as religious phrases yea? Well, my favorite (aside from 'heated fellowship', a black christian euphemism for fucking nasty) happens to be to 'know' or more specifically to 'know biblically', another word/phrase for fucking someone nasty.

stay with me this is going somewhere i promise pack a bag if you must

The interpretation I was raised with was that sexual intimacy was so vulnerable and exposing of one's most inner authenticity (that which apparently only God had such access to) that sex could make someone Know and See you the way Christ did (yadda yadda, "only fuck other Christians cus they'll be saved and sanctified enough to honor that blessing", yadda yadda) ANYWAY

THE POINT IS

You ever have someone in your life who just,,, saw you? Like, they could take one look at you and just Intuit Through The Vibes that something was up? Like they could just feel your energy and knew what to do or say or whatever? The kind of person who could walk into a room where you're minding your own business, doing something mundane, and they take one cursory scan of your posture and immediately ask "What's wrong?" like,,, what??? why do you ask??? what do you mean 'you can tell', I'm not fucking doing anything???

The kind of being seen for who you are that just leaves you feeling kinda exposed and tender? The kind of thing that leaves you bereft and yearning if you've never experienced it before (or had but lost it) because it feels like everyone only likes different mirages of you?

Andrew and Neil are so Relationship Of All Time because they seemed to See and Know each other like that even before they started locking lips on rooftops.

When Neil said "I want to see you lose control", i'm imagining Andrew probably felt so naked and flayed because everyone assumed he was perpetually losing his grip. On his anger, on his sanity, on reality, on his control. But like,,, Op's Spirit Of Post Long Lost, you were so fucking right. Every bit of Andrew's behavior was carefully calculated and intentionally released packages of what was his True Inner Turbulence that he would never dare release out into the open because that's not a target he's willing to give anyone a chance at aiming for.

Out of control? Andrew hasn't been that since he was probably a tween.

But Neil had never been fooled. From cigarettes and airport pickups to cigarettes and rooftop altercations, not once had he fallen for the mirage.

Without ever having needed to touch him in that way, Neil Knew Andrew. Biblically.

And that's why Andrew simply had to engage him in heated fellowship.