#Peter watching Rose so intently

[lemotomato]

Bonus:

"After we stop it. What next?"

The Night Agent 1.09

[aurynsia]

Unrequited, Terrifying Chapter 4

James Potter x Reader

Summary: While studying with the Marauders, you realise you misjudged them, rekindling feelings for your primary suspect…

Warnings: Extremely fluffy, nervous!james x shy!reader, some subtle wolfstar action in the background, idiots in love, oc!friends, lovesick!james, no use of Y/N, reader is referred to with she/her pronouns, swearing, all fluff with a side of plot, intense pining and I mean INTENSE, James starts off scared of you but quickly learns to be openly in love, NOT EDITED!

Word count: 1.7K

Series Masterlist

Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

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Slipping through the aisles of shelves lined with books of spells and history, you made your way towards the tables and chairs scattered in the middle of the room. The furthest table was occupied by the four boys you were in search of: the Marauders.

Approaching the Gryffindor boys, you noticed the quiet passing of paper between Remus and James, both scribbling small notes in a hurried manner. “Ehem- hello…” you spoke softly once you were within hearing range. Four pairs of eyes shot up to meet yours, each looking more afraid of your presence than the last.

Remus graced you with a bright smile, mouthing “hey” in reply. Across from him sat Sirius, who wore a look of surprise that quickly shifted into a lopsided smirk, nodding in greeting. Peter was startled by your presence but showed no sign of genuine fright, unlike James.

The head boy sat at the end of the table, breath hitching when you spoke with eyes blown wide.

They had saved you a seat between James and Remus, which you promptly moved to, busying yourself to shift the attention off of you. You placed your material on the table, pulling out your notebook.

You were suddenly very aware of your surroundings, shifting uncomfortably in your seat and glancing at the boy next to you, meeting his gaze before turning red and glancing back down.

Remus caught your attention, calling your name and gesturing to the book he had placed in front of you. “I thought we could revise the content in chapter four and quiz each other,” he said.

You and Remus were thirty minutes into your study session, writing with intention as you took pages of organised notes in dark ink before Sirius struck up a conversation.

“Your handwriting is very pretty,” he looked at you with a grin, “Prongs, look how neat her handwriting is!” After a beat, James shifted to look over your notes and gave a shy smile.

“Oh, Godric, he’s right…” he spoke softly, looking intently as he admired your penmanship like an artwork in the Louvre. His look of curiosity shifted when he met your gaze, gulping as he pushed back into his seat with rose cheeks. Your face was burning too.

“Thank you…” you stuttered out. Sirius was watching the interaction with a snarky grin plastered across his face, ready to push James’ buttons some more.

“I only bring it up because James has awful handwriting,” he stated, “See? It’s practically sprawled all over the place!” You glanced at the boy’s scattered writing, letters not quite aligning with each other across the page. You giggled, mustering a sense of courage as you sunk into comfortable banter with the group. “Well, whatever he’s doing with his writing seems to work, James always gets great marks in class!”

Sirius smirked at your praise, eyebrows raised and laced with visual sarcasm, as if to say “bold move, sweetheart”. You found the table of boys to actually be very easy to talk to. You glanced at James’ direction once more, admiring the bashful grin he showed you in thanks.

Your eyes met his writing again, noticing the boyish quality with which he wrote. It felt familiar, like you’d seen the print before. You took this as a sign that your feelings for the boy must have never really died after all, finding so much blissful comfort in his presence.

Remus reluctantly interrupted the moment again, realising he should at least act like studying was the only reason he invited you here. “Right, think you can handle a quick quiz now, love? Test that big brain of yours?” You closed your books and met his eyes, harvesting a glint of confidence in your own. “Bring it on.”

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“I invited her to study.”

“What?”

“We’re in the same class for History of Magic, she’s very good you know.”

“You mean, she’s coming here? Now?”

“Who did you think the empty seat was saved for?”

James’ eyes flashed emotion after emotion, from hope to excitement to nervousness, before finally settling on fear. The note traveling back and forth between Remus’ pen and his own was losing space, and he began to flip it over in order to scrawl a series of exclamations and offensive names directed at his friend.

The soft call of a greeting from your position standing by the table made him pause his actions, his heart plummeting into his stomach and swimming aimlessly. He backed further into his chair, praying to Merlin that he could merge with the wood and disappear.

When his prayers weren’t answered, his eyes flickered to the boy who caused this encounter to happen, cursing him with his gaze.

You had settled into your designated chair, so close that he could smell the intoxicating perfume you had deliberately sprayed this morning. His lips parted at the scent, imagining you would smell even sweeter with his nose buried in your neck, unruly curls being massaged by your soft touch, waist encapsulated in his grasp.

Your eyes met his, catching him explicitly staring at you through lidded eyes. Your quick reaction to turn away pulled him out of his trance, beginning to focus on his work once more.

James’ writing manifested as a mess of nerves and lovestruck adoration. He continued to steal quick glances at your pretty face, wise eyes, soft lips, delicate skin and sweet hair that framed your face in such a perfect way under the library lights.

He mentally blessed the table for obscuring his vision of your enticing legs and providing a physical barrier between himself and your warmth, otherwise he might just curl up at your side and drift off to sleep in the comfort you emitted.

Sirius’ utterance of “Prongs” brought his attention back to the group as he explained that your handwriting was pretty and James should look at it. When are you ever not pretty? Merlin, he was whipped.

James shifted to look over your notes, the links and chains between each letter more mesmerising than the last. “Oh, Godric, he’s right…” he whispered, still staring at the perfection on the page. You were perfect.

Your small thank you sounded flustered, calming him in the knowledge that there was a chance he could make you feel the same way he did, buzzing and warm in your presence.

Sirius continued teasing the boy, motioning for you to look at his awful handwriting. James let out a silent laugh at the sudden attention, though it manifested as more of an infatuated sigh as you curiously peered at his notes.

You turned to face Sirius again, before nonchalantly glancing back at James and smiling as you said his writing gets great marks in class nonetheless.

James was grinning ear to ear with a smile that could blind a crowd of angels, cheeks pigmented with a red glow and eyes squinting from pure joy. He wanted nothing more than to bask in the warmth of your quick wit and charming softness.

When the Marauders arrived back at their dorm that night, James rushed to his desk to spill his feelings onto a page. He quickly folded the note into another baby blue envelope, running over to the girls’ dorms and slipping the note below your door.

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The night was quiet, a soft breeze flowing through your open window. Your friends were tucked in and sleeping soundly as you gave into temptation and reread the messages you had received so far.

A subtle sound of commotion from your door stole your attention from the notes as yet another one appeared at its base, baby blue and addictive.

You scrambled to your feet, scooped up the message and jumped back into bed.

Throwing open the envelope marked with your name, you began to read its contents with a lovestruck haze to your vision.

“I long for you. You’ll never understand the sheer desperation you spark within me with every breath you take. My heart feels ripped out of my chest and locked away by your subtle glances, your bright smile, your shy demeanour. I want nothing more than to exist in the shelter of your love, capturing the sickeningly sweet tune of your voice in my long term memory to keep me sane. To keep me alive.” The note continued on the other side of the paper, which you flipped.

“I’ve been blessed with a proximity to you recently that can only be described as intoxicating. I breathe your attention. It fuels me to act a little more confident every time I see you, for all that you allow me gives me strength in my lovestruck prison, whispering sweet nothings to me in my dreams at the dead of night. Speaking of dreams, it seems the grasp your minor affection has on my attention forces me into a state of sleep paralysis, and I’m starting to think the only cure is your lips on mine and your presence in my lonely bed. If you haven’t realised who I am already, my love, time will tell. I’m so fucking obsessed with you, it’s unmissable. Forever yours.”

You gasped at the pure desperation demonstrated in the new addition to your growing pile of love letters. This boy was smitten, and you were finally beginning to accept the fact that you wished it was the first boy you had ever loved. You had tried to stay neutral about the situation, open to all who demonstrated such infatuation with you, but you prayed to Merlin that this boy was the one you wanted in return, one James Potter.

Sick with affection and drunk on love, you placed the note on top of the others as you began to sink into a deep slumber. Tomorrow you would return to the library with the Marauders, and you would do everything in your power to decipher if James really was who you wished he was.

The note flickered under the weight of the pressing autumn breeze, rustling the pages of uneven text once controlled by a messy hand.

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A/N: AHH I meant to wait to upload this one but I couldn’t help it so I rushed to finish it! The dynamic between these two is addictive to write about and I’m ashamed to say I’m flustered over my own writing ;-; As always, reblogs and likes are appreciated and comment if you want to be added to the tag list for chapter 5! <3

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Tag List:

@1-queenofpotatoes-1

@caspiankingofnarnia

@thesuitelifeofafangirl

@moonydoodlez

@fionnalopez

@kawaiiarbitervoid

@kc2sstuff

[flightlessangelwings]

The Way We Feel When We Dance

Tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader

Word count-3.9k

Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY!), reader dances, protective!Peter, harassment, Spiderman picks up reader (he has super strength but still I wanted to add this here), reader is hinted to be more curvy but it open to interpretation, fluff, feelings, Peter and reader are both adults and are at a dance club in the beginning, no use of y/n

Notes- This is a very late part 2 of my 5k follower thank you gift fics (I did one Pedro character and one non Pedro character lol). Thank you all who have been following and supporting me and my works here! While this reader is not physically described at all other than body parts, I pictured and heavily implied that she is Latina here. But it can absolutely still be read by anyone. Enjoy!

@flightlessangelwings-updates is my update blog so please follow that as well and turn on post notifs to stay up to date on when I post new things!

~

The pulse of the upbeat Latin music reverberated through the room as the lights danced in harmony with the beat. Sweaty bodies filled the dance floor that all moved to the rhythm. Feet stepped in time with the beat as hips swayed from side to side and arms shimmied with purpose. Smiles and laughter filled the air between each dancer as everyone had a fun time dancing the night away.

From the edge of the room, Peter sat at the bar. Even though the crowd, his gaze stayed solely on you. You captivated him with the way you danced to the music, carefree and beautiful. Your outfit accentuated your hips perfectly, and Peter couldn’t look away even if he wanted to.

Feeling his eyes on your figure, you opened your own from when you closed them from getting lost in the music. When your gaze met his, a bright smile lit up your face, which Peter mirrored. He raised his glass up in cheers as he watched you melodically make your way across the dance floor. A tinge of heat rose across Peter’s face as you stared at him with intent as you closed the gap between your bodies.

“Why don’t you join me, Peter?” you asked in a sultry tone as you swayed your body against his.

Peter’s cheeks reddened, “You know I have two left feet, sweetheart,” he giggled, feeling like a schoolboy around you.

You smirked as you leaned in closer to murmur in his ear, “You can swing from building to building hundreds of feet in the air,” you teased, “And you’re afraid to dance in public?”

“It’s not the same,” he retorted playfully as he nudged your side. Peter’s gaze dropped down to where your hips still swayed from side to side in a slow, lazy rhythm, “Besides, I’m enjoying my view right now.”

“Oh come on, Pete,” you pleaded as you slid your hand in his, “Here I’ll start off with an easy one. It’s three steps, I think you can handle it.”

“But…”

“Come on, babe!” Your instance was firm yet light-hearted. You knew if he truly didn’t want to dance, he would stop you, and you wouldn’t force it. Sometimes, your boyfriend just needed a little encouragement. And besides, you really wanted to feel his arms around you and the two of you danced together to the beat of the music, letting the rest of the world fade away…

Peter’s nervous giggle got drowned out by the music as he allowed you to guide him back to the dance floor. With all his strengths as Spiderman, Peter knew that you were his ultimate weakness, and he couldn’t deny you anything even if he wanted to. So, he could put his insecurities aside for the night and dance with you. Besides, holding you close as you lost yourselves in the music wasn’t a terrible thought…

“Put your arms on my waist,” you instructed once you found a spot on the dance floor with some space to move.

“Gladly,” Peter grinned widely as he did so.

You rolled your eyes for a moment, but let out a soft gasp when you felt his tight grip on your body. It made your heart pound more than the dancing did as the warmth and security of his embrace engulfed you, and you lost yourself for a moment. It was only your name in Peter’s voice that brought you back, “Right,” you met his eyes as you placed your hands on his shoulders, “Ok, watch me and do what I do in reverse.”

Peter swallowed hard and nodded as his gaze slowly ran down your body. He took the opportunity to study your outfit and how good it looked on you up close, and he memorized every inch of your figure.

“Like this,” you started slowly, shifting your weight from foot to foot as you stepped to the rhythm in a simple motion, “One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three,” you stepped back and first, side to side as your hips shimmied to the music.

Peter tried his best to keep up, but under your lead, he found he quickly fell into the rhythm. 

“That’s it!” you exclaimed as you started to pick up your pace to better match the beat that played around you.

Laughter erupted from Peter as he felt himself get lost in the music too. The Latin beat that played highlighted your movements as the two of you danced together, wrapped in each other’s arms. A grin of your own lit up your face as your lips parted in a wide smile and you started to add more flair to your movements.

Peter was captivated. He almost forgot to move as he watched you lose yourself in the music. You looked so beautiful like this, and Peter counted himself the luckiest man in the world to get to have you, to get to be with you. A stupid smile lit up his face as he lost the rhythm on the song that played from being too enthralled with you.

Until…

“Ow!” you exclaimed as you suddenly stopped dancing.

“Sorry!” Peter realized what the problem was: he was so focused on you that he accidentally stepped on your foot, “Sorry, sweetheart,” he repeated as he caressed your shoulders, “You alright?”

“I”m fine,” you waved it off with a laugh. Feeling his grip on you, suddenly the music faded away and your world became just Peter. The way he held you and the way he looked at you made your heart flip in your chest, and you found that you didn’t care about your night out of dancing anymore.

Sending the change in your demeanor, and knowing that look on your face, he leaned in close and murmured, “Wanna get out of here?” Peter’s tone was low, rumbling against your ear and sending a chill down your spine. He placed a light, playful kiss on the tip of your nose while he was so close to you.

“Yes,” you breathed, knowing exactly what he meant and wanting that exact same thing.

This time, it was Peter who slid his hand in yours and led you away. You followed willingly and eagerly as you couldn’t help but giggle. No one had ever made you feel the way Peter did, and finding him was the best thing that ever happened to you. 

And Peter felt the exact same way about you.

The cool air made you dizzy for a moment as the door to the outside opened. You let out a sigh as you adjusted to the feeling of the New York night air on your skin, and it became a welcome relief from the heat inside.

“You alright?” Peter asked.

“Great,” you answered, “Let’s go home.”

Peter smiled as he led you away from the club and into the busy night streets. New York truly never slept, and even late into the night, it was full of life and hustle and bustle. It was just as crowded outside as it was inside as you and Peter made your way down the long streets of the city. You felt safe, though, with your hand firmly in Peter’s.

But, you didn’t make it far before a group of men sneered at you as you passed by them. You felt their pointed gazes before Peter noticed them and you shuffled yourself closer to him. As the two of you walked by, they blew kisses at you and yelled obscene nicknames.

“Hey baby!” one of them shouted, “Why don’t you drop that little shrimpy boy and I’ll show you what a real man can do?”

The other man laughed as they all started to follow close behind.

Peter frowned as he pulled you in closer, tightening his grip on you, “I’ve got you,” he whispered to you, “Come on,” he turned down another street, hoping to lose the men in the crowd and avoid the situation escalating.

You let out a whine as you put your trust in him. Easily, you figured out that Peter wanted to use the crowd as a cover, but you stayed glued to his side still. Glancing over your shoulder, you saw that the men weren’t deterred and still tailed close behind you.

“Peter…”

“I know, I…”

He was cut off when a drunk couple bumped into the two of you, knocking you out of Peter’s grasp. You yelped as you found yourself separated from him, and over the noise of the crowd, you heard him call out your name. 

“Peter!” you shouted back, trying to find him.

It was no use, though, and before you could blink, you found yourself alone. Not completely alone, though, as the group of men somehow found you after you got pushed away. “Shit,” you cursed under your breath as you turned and ran in the opposite direction. You could find Peter later, right now your first priority was losing these guys.

You made turn after turn trying to shake them, but it was no use. No matter where you went, the men were close behind, and they were catching up to you. And they continued to taunt you while they did so.

“Come on, sweet girl,” one leered, “We won’t hurt you.”

“Too badly,” another cackled darkly.

“Just give us a chance, pretty girl,” another pleaded in an insincere voice.

You whimpered as you tried to look for Peter in the crowd again, but to no avail, “Peter…” you hissed, “Dammit.” Lost in your panic, you didn’t notice that you turned into a dead end alley until you were face to face with a brick wall. “Shit,” your hands trembled as you turned around and saw that the men followed you, trapping you in the alley.

“It’s ok sweetheart,” one of them said in a voice that sent a chill down your spine, “We’ll take good care of you.”

Looking down at the ground, you saw a loose brick that fell out of the wall. You picked it up and threw it in the men’s direction, “Stay back!” you warned as the men easily ducked out of the way of the flying brick.

The men just laughed as they reached out for you. Having no other options, you closed your eyes and held your breath, anticipating the feeling of their rough hands on your body. But, it never came.

A twip from above whirled through the air, and the ball of webbing hit the hand of the man closest to you. He was knocked back, and his hand was pinned to the wall, stuck with the webbing.

“Didn’t anyone teach you boys that when a woman says “no” that you leave her alone?” a voice rang from above.

You opened your eyes and looked up, breathing a huge sigh of relief, “Spiderman!” you exhaled as he flipped down from his perch and stood in front of you, blocking the men.

“Spiderman!?” the other men clamored, “We weren’t doing nothing, we just…”

“It didn’t look like nothing to me,” he replied as he flicked his wrist, sending more webbing to the other men.

They all clamored as they tried to fight back, throwing punches that missed the webslinger over and over again. Spiderman easily avoided their punches and with just a few more flicks of his wrist, was able to catch all of them in his net. The men grunted and cursed as they found themselves stuck to either the wall or the ground, unable to move.

“Damn, you Spiderman!” one cried out.

“Fucking cockblock!” shouted another angrily.

Spiderman ignored them and turned to you, “You alright?” he asked in a softer tone.

“I am now,” you replied breathlessly as your heart pounded in your chest.

“Want a lift out of here?” he asked, a hint of playfulness in his tone.

Feeling more at ease, a smile grace your face, “I’d love one.”

“I’m gonna pick you up now,” his voice was soothing to you as he extended his arms out.

You nodded. 

Spiderman stepped forward and wrapped his arm around you, lifting you off the ground with his superhuman strength. He paused and turned to the men who pursued you and said, “This is how you ask a lady out,” he sniped, “You should try asking nicely next time.” he added before he flicked his wrist and launched himself and you up and away.

Normally, you were too scared whenever Peter carried you through the city like this. But, after what almost happened, you were too preoccupied to notice more than the cool air in your face and the tight grip around your body. You buried yourself in the crook of his neck as you tightened your own grip on Peter as he flung you between the tall buildings of New York and towards the tiny apartment you both shared.

In no time, Peter made it to your window, opening it from the outside and setting you down carefully and gently. He hurriedly closed it before turning back around to face you, ripping his mask off in one swift motion as he closed the gap between your bodies.

“Are you ok?” he asked in a panic, “Did they hurt you?” Peter’s hand landed on your shoulders as he looked you over for any cuts or marks as he finally allowed himself to feel scared for you.

“I’m ok, Peter,” you replied back, your own voice sounding distant, “You found me just in time.”

Peter’s eyes locked with your for a moment before he dropped to the ground on his knees before you. He started to sob as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you in cose, burying his face in your midsection, “I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” he choked out between cries.

Tears of your own filled your eyes as your heart pounded in your chest. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and leaned over, covering him as you both held each other, “Don’t be sorry, Peter,” you whispered, “You saved me. I know you’ll always save me.”

He couldn’t help but cry harder at your words as he tightened his grip on you, “When we got separated,” he started, pausing to catch his breath, “I was so scared,” Peter confessed, “I was so scared something would happen to you… And I wouldn’t find you in time…”

“Hey,” you wiggled your way down to join him on the floor, “Look at me, Peter,” you cupped his face, and more tears fell down your cheeks as you looked into his red eyes, “You will always save me, Peter Parker. I know you will. I trust you with everything I am.”

Truthfully, you were just as scared as Peter was. The moment you were separated, you lost your security, your safe place. And while you had faith in him- you always did- that fear was still there. But right now, you had to be there for him, since he was already there for you. 

Another tear rolled down Peter’s cheek, and you used your thumb to wipe it away. He whispered your name as he closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of your touch under his skin. It was a comfort, and anchor, and Peter knew he had to trust you just as much as you trusted him. He saved you tonight. And he would always save you. That was his promise to you. 

“Peter…” you breathed his name as you closed the gap between your faces, pressing your lips to his.

It felt like an explosion of fireworks between your bodies as you connected as one. Passions quickly arose as Peter clung to you and deepened the kiss, tasting you. You moaned into his mouth as you kissed him back just as passionately and tightened your grip on him.

Heat rose in the room as suddenly you both had one thing on your minds. The need to feel each other, to get tangled together and lost in the other, was overwhelming. With only breaking away for quick moments to undress each other, you and Peter clumsily made your way to the bed, stripping each other and kissing wherever you could reach along the way.

By the time your legs hit the edge of the bed, you and Peter were both bare for each other. He grabbed onto you in an attempt to land you underneath him as he leaned your bodies towards the mattress. But, you surprised him. You grabbed onto his torso and turned your bodies around so that by the time you hit the bed, you straddled overtop of Peter.

“Wow,” he murmured as his eyes trailed across your naked body on top of him. Peter’s hands caressed up and down your sides, feeling every dip and curve of your body, memorizing every inch of you with his hands.

“Wow yourself,” you snickered back as you bit your lip and enjoyed the sight of Peter, your Peter, in between your legs.

Leaning forward, you placed your hands on his pecs, giving them a soft squeeze as you rocked your hips along his. Both of you hissed and mewled as your folds ran along his hardening cock. Jolts of electricity ran up your spine with every movement, and you felt the way his cock twitched in anticipation underneath your hips.

Peter let out a curse as his hands dug into your hips. And he only groaned louder when you lifted yourself up to line up your entrance with his cock. Normally, Peter liked to take his time with you, kissing you all over and worshiping your body before he entered you. But today was different. Today, you were both too needy, too desperate to feel each other that neither of you could wait any longer. 

You let out a gasp as the tip of his length pushed past your first ring of muscle and started to stretch you out. Slowly, you lowered yourself along his length, letting Peter fill you up inch by inch as your hips moved closer to his. Peter’s own groans harmonized with your moans as he felt your warmth engulf him. 

“Fuck…” Peter whispered in awe when your hips met his and he felt your muscles clench around him. He moaned your name as he tightened his grip on your body and fought to keep his eyes open; Peter didn’t want to miss a second of how beautiful you looked.

A loud moan escaped your lips as you rolled your hips forward, feeling Peter’s cock inside you. You squeezed his pecs harder as you started to bounce up and down. Feeling bubbled over as you rode Peter’s cock so that they were almost physically palpable between the two of you.

Moving faster, you heard your skin slap against Peter’s as you felt every inch of him inside you. Heat rose in the room as you both clung to the other. Emotions drove you as your tights screamed at you the longer you lifted and lowered yourself onto him. But, Peter helped you. He used his strength to guide your hips along his cock, along his body. He never lessened his grip on you as he slid his hands to the soft mounds of your ass to help you and feel you more.

Peter lost the battle with his eyes, and they finally closed to allow himself to get lost in you. A louder groan echoed from deep with him as he felt your warmth and your tightness envelope him over and over again. And Peter knew he wouldn’t last much longer if you kept riding him like this.

In a flash, Peter’s eyes snapped open and he lunged forward, wrapping his arms around you. Before you could register his movements, you suddenly found yourself on your back as Peter flipped your bodies over so that he covered you.

“Peter…”

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he grunted as he leaned forward, driving his cock even deeper into you as his forehead touched yours.

All you could do was moan as a shiver ran up your spine. Peter’s cock hit that sweet spot inside you with precision, and you felt like your body was floating as he started drilling into you at a fast and desperate pace. “Fuck!” you cried out as your body began to tremble.

Peter snaked his hand up the sheet and took yours as he continued to rock into you over and over again. You took his hand, holding it tightly as you felt his breath against the skin on your face. Fresh tears rolled down your cheeks from the overwhelming emotions, and you could feel ones from Peter as well.

Peter groaned your name over and over again with every thrust of his hips as he held your hand as tightly as he possibly could.

“Peter… I’m gonna cum…” you gasped.

“Me too, sweetheart,” he words were strained from how breathless he was, “Cum with me, sweetheart. Let me feel you.”

“Pete!” you cried out as more tears fell down your cheeks as your entire body tingled. As you were about to let out a loud cry with your climax, Peter’s lips suddenly covered yours, muffling your screams.

His own groans and grunts were muffled as well as he felt his own peak hit at the same time as yours. Peter’s eyes shut tightly as he kissed you deeply while he spilled himself into you. He could feel every muscle in your body clench around him as you came hard on his cock, and your moans reverberated within him as he kept his lips on yours.

Peter kept up his pace as long as he could, riding out every ounce of both your climaxes until he couldn’t hold himself up any longer. With one final thrust of his hips, Peter finally broke the kiss as he pulled out of you and collapsed down next to you with a loud huff. You exhaled deeply as you caught your breath, feeling your heart pounding in your chest. Together, the two of you laid sprawled out next to each other on the bed, letting yourself recover from that whirlwind of passions.

Neither of you were sure who moved first, but you both instinctively reached out for each other, wrapping yourself up in a pretzel of limbs as you held each other close. You kissed his skin wherever you could, and Peter did the same to you, peppering feather light kisses on your body. As your heartbeats both came down to normal, a comfort washed over both of you. Feeling each other cose like this, knowing you were both here, made you know that everything was ok. You were ok. He was ok.

“I’m gonna do everything I can to protect you, sweetheart,” Peter broke the silence, “No matter what. Your safety always comes first,” he said as he squeezed you tightly.

“I know you will, Peter,” you whispered back as you kissed his skin, “I trust you. I know I’m safe with you.”

“You always will be,” he sounded more distant, as if sleep started to take him over. 

“I love you, Peter Parker.”

He smiled, “I love you too, sweetheart.” 

You were quiet for a few moments before you grinned against his chest, “Next time we go out dancing, let’s leave the action for the dance floor instead of the streets.”

Peter joined your laughter as he placed a soft kiss on the top of your head, “I was thinking the same thing.” 

[allbark-no-bite]

the night shift.

jake seresin x bradley bradshaw (wc: 3k)

summary: jake’s a cop working the night shift and pulls over a mildly drunk (and very interested) firefighter. chaos ensues.

warnings: mature, *driving while under the influence of alcohol, some sexual references

*if this bothers you, just don’t read, simple as that. you don’t have to come into my inbox to tell me that it bothers you <3

author’s note: i’ve never written anything faster in my entire like. this was so much fun! i came across this post again and couldn’t let it go. all credit to @squiddosss for their amazing artwork

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It's slow nights like these that make Jake question why he prefers the night shift.

The gravel of the lonely backroad crunches beneath the tires of his cruiser as he makes the curve and slowly pulls to a stop. The sirens on his cruiser give one last whoop before he shuts them off. The back of the beat up vintage blue Bronco gleams in the shine of his headlights. He sighs and shifts the car into park before he tips his radio towards his mouth and mumbles his whereabouts, informing Javy that he's making a traffic stop.

"10-4. Keep me updated."

He climbs out of the cruiser and makes his way towards the vehicle, keeping one thumb tucked into the front of his belt, fingers ready to reach for his gun in an instant. The diver hadn't given him any trouble thus far other than what he had pulled him over for— swerving all over the road, but Jake had been trained to err on the side of caution. He runs his finger tips over the tail light as he passes it by, a habit he had picked up from working alone.

For being such an old model, the car is in pretty decent shape. It has what appears to be brand new tires and the powder blue paint job has been restored to perfection. It was obviously well cared for. He wonders briefly the story behind it being as he doubts you could buy such a car these days. This was the kind of car that you handed down.

The window rolls down just as Jake approaches it.

"How's it goin' Officer?"

Jake blinks.

The driver is a younger guy, probably close to his own age— Jake likes to think that thirty-one is still plenty young— with shoulders so broad that it's a wonder he even fits in the front seat. His skin is a dark olive, which is pretty typical for someone who lives around here, but what catches Jake's attention the most is the perfectly groomed mustache the guy is sporting on his upper lip. It's thick and matches the caramel color of his otherwise brunette head of hair.

"Is there something wrong?"

The guy smiles and his dusty rose lips frame his perfectly aligned white teeth.

Jake tells himself it's his job to notice these kinds of things.

Jake clears his throat and leans in to peer into the cab of the truck, doing his best to avoid the lingering stare of the guy's warm hazel eyes. When he's satisfied that there's nothing worthy of his immediate attention in the car, Jake focuses back on him.

"Can I get your license and registration?"

It takes him a moment of fumbling around in his glove box and then his pocket, but he hands both documents over. The guy watches him so intently while Jake reads over them that it almost makes him uncomfortable, and he's glad for the excuse to look away.

"You had much to drink tonight, Bradley?" Jake asks as his eyes skim over the name. Bradley Peter Bradshaw. He almost laughs. If Jake didn't know better, he'd think it was a fake.

Jake knows the answer before he asks it but he figures he'll give him the benefit of the doubt for now. He doesn't necessarily reek of alcohol but Jake can defiantly pick up the fermented smell of yeast on his breath. If the guy hadn't been staring at him so intently and Jake could look at him for longer than two seconds, he's sure his pupils would be dilated as well.

"Just a little, Officer. I'm sobered up now."

Jake has to hold back his disbelieving snort. If he had a dime for every time he heard that, he'd be rich. "Well, Bradley. I find that a little hard to believe. You were all over this back road here. You know you're only supposed to drive on the right side, right?"

Bradley's mouth twitches, as if he found Jake's comment more amusing rather than condescending. "I didn't, but I'll sure take your word for it."

Jake, on the other hand, doesn't share his humor. "You seem like a funny guy, Bradley. But unfortunately, I don't find drunk driving to be very funny."

And then his eyes land on the emblem on Bradley's navy blue t-shirt—N.I.F.D. —the one his swollen biceps are nearly bursting out of.

"You work for North Island Fire Department?"

Jake watches as Bradley's slightly drunk grin widens. "I sure do."

Jake hands him back his license and the rest of his paperwork. "I've got a couple friends down at the station. You know Trace, Fitch?"

If his pupils weren't already blown wide, Jake would say they lit up in recognition. "Yeah, actually. Natasha is the one who got me the job there. I just finished a deployment out in the Pacific."

It's then that Jake notices the dog tags looped around his thick neck and hidden beneath his shirt. "You're enlisted," Jake says aloud, and then to conceal his surprise follows with, "I was too."

That's the kind of thing that you do when you're eighteen and more scared of not living than dying. If anything it was exciting. Anything that meant getting the hell out of Texas was exciting. He misses it now, but at the time when he was standing alone in that recruiters office, he didn't think for a moment that he would. He felt like a man.

The navy made him a man, is what his daddy said. It was probably one of the only times the old bastard ever told him he was proud of him, and the only time he didn't feel bad for making his mama cry.

The reason he got out was for the reason most do. You realize you don't stay twenty forever and life doesn't wait around until you figure that out. He didn't want to retire one day and have nothing to come home to but an empty apartment. San Diego seemed as good of a place to settle down as any.

Javy's voice crackles through on the radio strapped to his chest, breaking up their conversation.

"Unit-16. Checking in on your traffic stop. You need back-up?"

He hadn't realized they'd been talking so long. Jake mentally reprimands himself for getting distracted and picks up the radio while pressing it to his mouth. "This is Unit-16. No back-up necessary. Over."

"10-4. Over."

Jake releases the radio and looks back up to Bradley. Get back on task, Jake. Bradley smiles coyly at him. Jesus, focus, Jake.

"Sir, I'm going to need you to step out the vehicle."

The hopeful look in Bradley's big hazel eyes falters.

"Look, Officer uh— " The Bradley leans towards his open window so that he can squint at the gold engraved name plate on Jake's uniform. "—Seresin." Jake watches as his tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip before he cocks his head a little to the side and smiles, looking up at Jake. "You look good."

Oh. Oh.

That's what this is all about.

It's then that Jake realizes that this guy has been flirting him the entire time. He'll admit it's not the first time someone's hit on him while on the clock. Jake is aware he's an attractive guy, it's just that this is the first time he's been tasked with turning down at very handsome, drunk stranger. But drunk or not, the compliment makes his cheeks burn. Jake prays that the red and blue lights of his cruiser are enough to conceal the way his face flushes.

Ignoring him, Jake grabs the door handle of the Bronco and tugs it open. "C'mon, pal. Outta the car."

A little begrudgingly, Bradley slowly steps out of the car. Jake doesn't miss the way he grabs onto the door to steady himself.

Now that he's out of the car and in the beam of his headlights, Jake gets a good look at him. Bradley is over six feet of lean tan muscle. His long legs are encased in blue jeans that fit a bit too snug around his narrow waist, but from there he only gets wider all the way up to his shoulders. He's got some height on Jake and if he weren't in shape himself, Jake would probably be a little intimidated.

Jake steps up to him. "Go ahead and turn around for me. Put your hands flat on the hood."

For a moment Jake thinks he isn't going to listen, but then Bradley smirks a little and does as he's told. "Normally I'd ask you to buy me dinner first, but whatever you say, Officer."

This time Jake is glad that he's turned around. He steps forward and uses one of his feet to knock Bradley's legs a little further apart so that he can pat him down. He's not surprised to find that there's nothing on him, but he always has to check.

"Are you always this forward, Bradley? Or just when you're drunk?"

"No, sir," Bradley promises him, refusing to flinch even as Jake's hands come dangerously close to his crotch. "Just when the officer is nice to look at."

Jake pulls away as Bradley turns around. He specifically remembers telling him to keep his hands flat on the cruiser but Jake is getting the impression that Bradley doing something that could hurt either one of them isn't something he needs to worry about so he lets it go. Typically a stupid decision but he trusts his gut.

Bradley leans back just slightly to prop himself up against the car and crosses his arms in front of his chest while giving Jake a smile. His big brown eyes are warm and dopey, his smile impish.

"You gonna cut me some slack?" he asks.

Habitually, Jake curls his fingers through the front of his belt. The familiar weight of his kevlar vest is heavy and comforting and somehow he finds that it settles his fluttering heart in his chest.

"You know it's considered an offense to flirt with an officer?" Jake tells him, trying to remain professional and stand his ground. If his eyes drop to observe the way the other man's pecks fill out his t-shirt, that's his business.

Bradley smiles, ducking his head a little abashedly. Jake doesn't miss the way his teeth release the pout of his bottom lip. "Does that apply to when you're off duty as well?"

Jake pokes his tongue into the side of his cheek to keep from smiling. It's not funny, and he shouldn't be flattered by the advances of a drunk stranger but he is. And maybe he does have some sympathy for the guy. He knows what it's like coming back to the states and trying to adjust back to civilian life. But that doesn't mean that he's above the law.

"Bradley," he begins, his voice firm but sympathetic. "You know you can't be driving around like this. As much as I'd like to, I can't let you go."

As far as he's concerned, Bradley doesn't seem to be hearing him at all.

"Y'know, of all the places I imagined myself being handcuffed, none of them were in the back of a cop car."

"Jesus Christ," Jake mutters, his hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose. Really, he has no words. "Okay, that's enough," he announces, giving up on getting Bradley to actually take this seriously. "Turn around for me."

Smiling as if feeling a little too pleased with himself, Bradley obediently shuffles around so that Jake can then walk up behind him and clasp his wrists together. He uses his other hand to retrieve his cuffs from his belt and clips them on.

They're a little tight but that's only because Bradley's broad shoulders prevent his wrists from fully meeting, his shoulder blades seemingly obstructed by the wide expanse of his back.

Jake is definitely not staring. 

If the cuffs are uncomfortable, Bradley doesn't say anything, and Jake walks him by one of his elbows to the cruiser.

"Watch your head," Jake instructs him as he opens the door for Bradley to step in. It's a tight fit but somehow he manages, scooting over the seat until he's sat in the middle, his long legs spread to either side in order to accommodate them. The denim of his jeans strain at the awkwardness of the angle and gives Jake a front row view of the bugle of his crotch.

Jake clears his throat, looking away. If it were for the fact that he was drunk, Jake would say he's doing it on purpose.

Before Jake can shut the door and leave with what little is left of his self preservation, Bradley's voice stops him.

"Wait, what about my car?"

When Jake leans down to poke his head into the backseat of the cruiser, the look on Bradley's face is actually concerned. That's a first, Jake thinks. "I'll call someone to tow it. It'll be impounded until you can come and pick it up from the station." When the worry on Bradley's face only increases, his mustache emphasizing the action, he follows with, "They'll take good care of it for you, I promise."

Bradley's eyes flicker to the old Bronco anxiously. "It's just that it's my dad's car. He, um, he died when I was a kid. So, y'know..." he explains, trailing off.

Of fucking course it is.

Jake sighs, hangs his head in defeat for a second, and then looks back into the car at Bradley. "Look, I'll make a deal with you. Promise me we won't meet like this again and I won't have them tow your car. You can just come get it in the morning."

Bradley grins. "Well I'd certainly like to meet you under different circumstances."

Jake slams the door shut.

The drive back into town is quiet. When he glances at the clock on his dashboard, he realizes he only has about an hour left to his shift. As he pulls into the little suburban neighborhood, having memorized the address on Bradley's license, he glances into the backseat through his rear view mirror.

At first he thinks that Bradley's knocked out in the backseat, head lulled back as he breathes slow and steady, but then he sees the whites of his hazel eyes illuminated by the occasional red and blue flash of his overhead lights. Their gazes meet through the mirror and the corner of Bradleys mouth lifts up in a half drunk smile. Jake shifts his gaze away to instead peer at the numbers on the houses. Finally he finds the address he's looking for and slows the cruiser as he pulls into the driveway.

He brings the car to a stop and slides out of the driver's seat, walking around the car to open up the side door. Bradley stares at him quizzically from the backseat.

"C'mon, hop out before I change my mind," Jake prompts, gesturing with his head for Bradley to get a move on. The tall brunette climbs out with as much ease as one can muster in a pair of handcuffs before he's once again standing face to face with Jake.

He's on the downside of his drunken stupor, more sleepy than buzzed if his drooping eyelids are anything to go by. His mustache lifts as he smiles down at Jake. It's still ridiculous looking but it makes more sense now that Jake knows his occupation. It's the only type of facial hair that's considered to be within regs.

Jake clears his throat. "You want me to take those off?" he asks, motioning towards the cuffs holding Bradley's hands behind his back.

"I might do something stupid if you do."

Jake freezes. "What?"

Before he knows it Bradley's kissing him. He connects their mouths with surprising ease. It's so smooth and he moves relatively quickly for someone who's mildly intoxicated that Jake doesn't even see it coming. Between Jake's surprise and Bradley's lack of hands, they're a bit top heavy and Jake has to fist the front of Bradley's t-shirt, his back hitting the side of the cruiser, to keep them from toppling over.

Bradley's mouth is warm, his lips pliant and soft, but he's firm in the kiss, unrelenting in the way that Jake couldn't have pulled away even if he wanted to.

He doesn't want to— he does— but he doesn't want to.

When he comes to his senses, Jake flattens a palm against Bradley's chest and shoves him away. Immediately his chest aches at the distance. He stands there, still half shocked, with his palm holding Bradley away at arm's length.

Really, he's not too sure what to do in this situation.

Bradley’s hazel eyes shine in amusement. He doesn’t even have the decency to look ashamed.

Again Jake clears his throat. "Ahem— um, glad you got that out of your system," he says with a pat to Bradley's chest. And before anything else can occur, he swiftly steps around the other man and uncuffs his wrists.

Bradley groans in relief, bringing his hands in front of him to rub at his sore wrists. “I think your bondage play needs some work. Not that I’m complaining—”

“Go inside. Get some sleep, Bradley.”

Taking the not so subtle hint, Bradley straightens and fixes Jake with a mocking salute before he turns and makes him way to the front porch. He watches as Bradley unlocks the front door and turns to give him one last look before he steps inside.

“Until next time, Officer Seresin.”

Jake just shakes his head in disapproval, but he can’t disguise his smile. “There better not be a next time,” he calls up the driveway.

He doesn’t pull out the driveway until Bradley’s shut the door and he sees the porch lights flicker off.

Maybe he does like the night shift.

[jupiter049]

After finally getting around to watching Kill The Moon I was very much surprised, pleasantly in fact.

While the abortion metaphor is 100% a valid reading you can make of the story, I don't buy it being the true conflict and message of the episode. Knowing that apparently Peter Harness didn't intend this to be an abortion metaphor, I can let it pass as what is probably a writer's political views subconsciously leaking into the script.

Judging the story literally and not metaphorically. It's about choosing if it's right/worth to kill an innocent being to save the lives of many.

This is literally the trolley problem.

Then you remember that this episode works as a sort of prelude for Mummy On The Orient Express and the true intentions of this episode come to light.

This is a story about having no "good choices", about taking risks when you aren't sure what's going to happen.

Clara is put way more in a bad light than what most people say. Clara is left speechless and with no counter arguments to what Lundwik argues and concedes to letting earth decide. When she finally pushes the button it was clearly a sudden and irrational move.

Clara outright says she didn't know what was going to happen, that she wasn't planning to press the button. Clara didn't make this choice because of knowing what was for the best, she did it because she couldn't bear the weight of intentionally killing an innocent being. She gambled, she took a leap of faith and it paid off.

Beyond the choice itself. Another big aspect of the episode is why The Doctor put Clara in this situation.

The Doctor is lonely. Everybody knows that. But even when companions are close to him, he still feels alone because there's nobody in the universe like him.

He can relate to some, but there's always a thing or two getting in the way (for example Time Lords being dead). So he craves, he strongly craves for someone like him. When The Doctor is asked why he wants to rehabilitate Missy a big reason he gives is the fact she is the only person somewhat similar to him.

The Doctor desires someone he can relate to so badly it makes him want to redeem the person who destroyed 1/4 of the universe.

And now in an adventure with her he finds a situation in which they have to decide if they are willing to stop the birth of a living being to save the lives of many? That sounds familiar.

Just like Nine brought Rose to the future so she could also experience what it's like seeing your planet explode and be the last member of your species, Twelve put Clara in this situation so she could experience what it's like to be the one who makes the big choices.

The Doctor all the time makes decisions that affect the lives of many. Decisions that most of the time he isn't sure if they will work. He risks it all every day. It brings him a lot of pain but he feels forced to do it because he thinks no one else can. He always has to save humanity because he thinks none of them could do what he does.

This... Sadly brings out the uncomfortable truth. Which is that The Doctor does look down upon humans. Don't get me wrong, he adores them, he would give it all to be like them. But he is aware that he considers himself superior to humanity, which is a side of him he (usually) tries to keep in check.

Humanity is for The Doctor what animals are for humanity. We love animals, we admire what they can do and even envy them in some areas, but we still don't consider them as capable, as intelligent as us.

This side of The Doctor can be seen as far back as the first episode of the revival. Calling humans stupid apes, and describing them as a species on it's first baby steps. Because of it, he wants them to be better, he knows how amazing they can and will be and wants them to achieve their potential.

What I'm getting at is that he feels like he is the only one who has to make the big choices, he feels alone taking that burden. But at the same time, he likes it, he enjoys taking these decisions, and he would be more than pleased to have someone right by his side taking them as well.

This is about nurturing Clara into becoming something greater. In his eyes, this means stop being a little human and grow to be the tiniest little bit similar to him.

All of this makes me remember that one moment in The End Of Time Part 2.

The Doctor said humans look like giants, he never said they look bigger than him.

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

Finally finished the outline of Daughter of the Rain and Snow and I know exactly how the ending is going down almost pretty much (details are blurry, but plot and character arcs are completely outlined and ready to write instead of just bullet points or vague ideas) so out of interest (won’t necessarily stick to it 100% but would still like to know) what would anyone like to see next if you would like to continue reading my stuff?

Explanations below cut

Sequel

I have every intention to write this one, I have characters but thus far not a main plot more of just the premise. Would follow Ahra, Evan, Yara, maybe Vix, and maybe Lilia as our young Dregs and start around when Kaz and Inej left for Ravka since the Dregs was kinda on the verge of collapse whoops. Can’t go into too much detail or they’ll be spoilers for the current fic but there’d be the opportunity for some Aimee and Kiada, and Kanej would still be present but they might not be in focus (again, can’t explain too much or they’ll be spoilers). There might even be some Fiona or some Maya stuff who knows

I really want to write this bc I really want to write Ahra’s story so it’ll probably end up coming around at some point but I realise it might not be the most interesting to y’all when it’s mostly ocs so yeah

Feliks had been more than lenient with Ahra. He’d been the only person who ever gave her a real job - playing her violin in the reception of the White Rose - and when things had predictably gone haywire he’d been good enough to only turn her away, not Evan too. Ahra hadn’t much cared for the job, she loved her violin but she did not enjoy watching the Rose’s clients come and go and she certainly hadn’t cared for having her skin paled and her hair Tailored white for such purposes, but it was easy money and enough to keep them ticking over as all of Evan’s funds petered away on overpriced little medicine bottles. She studied the thin stack of kruge in her hand, thinking of Kaz standing opposite her in the alley by the Slat.

“I don’t need your charity, Brekker,”

“And far be it from me to offer you any,”

Not charity, but she didn’t doubt Dirtyhands had his own purposes in paying her for a job she failed to finish. Still, cash was cash. And medicine was medicine. She tucked it back into her breast pocket and tapped it lightly, slipping round the corner and pulling a bone light from her jacket.

What Evan didn’t know couldn’t hurt him.

Helnik

This was an idea I had a looooong time ago and I shared a little snippet scene on here, but then I started writing Daughter of the Rain and Snow and never looked back. I really want to write this one I think it could be pretty cool, it would be relatively short set in between Crooked Kingdom and King of Scars and take place in Ravka; based on a headcanon I have about Nina learning how to use her new power and as a result of it experiencing hallucinations of Matthias being with her that she is fully convinced are real. Following Nina, Zoya, and Genya as they try to navigate this and worry that they shouldn’t let Nina got to Fjerda in this state.

“What time is it?” she mumbled into the cushions.

“A little after seven bells,”

“Saints, how disgusting,”

Nina sighed, in a mixture of content and tiredness. The luxury of the Little Palace was a mostly welcome change from crawling in next to Matthias in the tomb at Black Veil - or even of the hotel room at the Geldrenner. They’d shared a sofa, so close to each other; limbs entangled, chest against her back so she could feel his heart beating. A steady rhythm, no matter what he was feeling. The big bed here was more comfortable, but the closeness felt like an aching absence, as though the few feet between them spanned for miles. She reached out behind her and found something soft that she decided was his arm.

“Come closer,” she whispered, and she imagined the way he’d smile.

He would press her fingers to his lips and she would roll over to face him. She’d reach out and touch his cheek, and he would catch her hands in his.

“Witch,”

“Barbarian,”

“Little Red Bird,” he would say, just before his lips met hers

The sunlight would be warm and soft on their skin as they moved closer, as she felt his heart beating beneath her fingers.

But he hadn’t moved. He hadn’t come closer, or kissed her fingers, or brushed his lips against hers. He had not gently pushed her hand down towards his wrist so their fingers could intertwine.

“Matthias?”

Nina made the mistake of rolling over, and began to scream.

Wesper

There’s a line in Crooked Kingdom where Jesper says if Van Eck really couldn’t cope with Wylan not being able to read he could have told people he was blind, the point being that still would’ve been wrong but that everything he’d resorted to was unnecessary and Wylan shouldn’t feel like it was his fault. So this would be an au where Van Eck did exactly that and Wesper attend Ketterdam university together; Wylan grapples with his father being the worst and falling for Jesper as he fears telling him the truth, Jesper grapples with addiction and wanting to stay at university partly for the sake of falling for Wylan.

Jesper leaned in, pushing one of Wylan’s curls back off his face.

“It’s pity you can’t see how beautiful your eyes are,”

Wylan blushed, letting Jesper run his hand over his cheek and tilt his face up towards his own. Jesper leaned forward but then Wylan squirmed, just slightly, and Jesper tensed as he pulled his hand away.

“And me, of course,” he added, letting his voice take on a teasing lilt to brush past the moment, “It’s a shame you don’t know how gorgeous I am,”

Wylan almost smiled, but he had stepped away.

“I- erm,” he brushed his fingers through the lock of hair Jesper had moved and cleared his throat, “Excuse me,”

And then he was gone.

[myremnantarmy]

𝐒𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟗, 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐆𝐨𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐥

Memorial of Saint Peter Claver, Priest

Lk 6:6-11

On a certain sabbath Jesus went into the synagogue and taught,

and there was a man there whose right hand was withered.

The scribes and the Pharisees watched him closely

to see if he would cure on the sabbath

so that they might discover a reason to accuse him.

But he realized their intentions

and said to the man with the withered hand,

"Come up and stand before us."

And he rose and stood there.

Then Jesus said to them,

"I ask you, is it lawful to do good on the sabbath

rather than to do evil,

to save life rather than to destroy it?"

Looking around at them all, he then said to him,

"Stretch out your hand."

He did so and his hand was restored.

But they became enraged

and discussed together what they might do to Jesus.

[promptthebear]

Kissmas Day 2

Prompt: Laying a gentle kiss to the back of the other’s hand.

Pairing: Peter Pevensie x Reader

A/N: Hey, so this is finally here. Clearly it ran away with me. Maybe someday I'll be able to write a fic without over a thousand words of worldbuilding but clearly this isn't it. Regardless, enjoy!

The invitation arrived the first week of spring, a crimson dyed scroll with fine golden inlay and marked with Aslan’s own seal.

“To all eligible children in this noble house,” it decreed “You have been cordially invited to celebrate the 23rd birthday of High King Peter the Magnificent. Those wishing to attend must make their intentions known by no later than the third moon of spring, so appropriate accommodations can be made for the masquerade feast and tourney to follow. Tribute by way of gifts is not mandatory but highly encouraged. Long live King Peter, and long live Aslan!”

You hooted with laughter as you read it, before passing the notice over to your mother and sister. The messenger eagle who brought it, one of the many talking beasts in King Peter’s command, looked on disapprovingly.

“He’s got some nerve, sending this after he’s spent the better part of his kinghood with Ettismoor under his boot.” You said, not even bothering to hide your disdain “As though a party is going to make that all just disappear”

You expected your family’s thoughts on the matter to be alike to your own, especially your mother given she’d lost a husband, two sons and twice as many nephews against Peter’s armies. That made it all the more shocking, however, when she picked up a quill and parchment to pen her own missive rather than chuck the scroll into the fire.

“You can’t be serious” you pleaded, looking over at your sister for support “Mother. Please. Don’t make us go.”

The sound of a quill scratching against paper was all that was offered by way of reply. You wanted to scream, to shatter the almost silence and startle your mother back into seeing sense. Surely, this was a ruse of some sort? She wasn’t writing a cordial reply, instead she was telling this so called king where he could shove his sword and good intentions, right? The alternative wasn’t even worth considering.

Seconds passed in agony as your mother continued to write. You looked over to your sister once again, silently imploring her to do something, anything. Your sister, two years your junior and much more placid in nature, only shrugged. With a frustrated sigh, you turned away and stared into the fire, sulking.

Finally, after what felt like hours, your mother rose from her chair and walked over to the windowsill where the messenger eagle was waiting. In her hand, you noticed a scroll of plain parchment sealed with the mark of your household in silver wax. You felt your breath leave your lungs, and you clutched at the chair beneath you as your head began to swim.

That was your father’s seal, only used for official communication between noble or royal houses. If your mother had rejected the King, as you had hoped, then she wouldn’t have bothered. But a formal seal meant a formal letter, which all but confirmed the worst. You were going.

“Mother” you sounded desperate, even to your own ears, yet your mother took no noticed.

You watched as your mother placed the scroll in the eagle's satchel, along with some sweetbreads from a nearby platter that she wrapped in linen napkins.

“For the journey” she said, giving your guest a small nod. The eagle nodded in return, before turning back towards the window and spreading its wings. With a few strong flaps, the creature was gone, disappearing into the snowy gloom beyond. It had said little while it was here, but the lack of its presence was felt all the more strongly in the chilly stillness that remained.

“Dearest” your mother said, finally acknowledging you as she took a seat in the chair across from your own “Please. Try to understand.”

It was your turn to be silent, refusing to even look your mother in the eye. Hurt bubbled in your chest, but you tried to shove it back, choosing instead to nurse your growing rage. If you dwelled on your sadness, even for a minute. you would break, you knew. You would reach for your mother, and cry against her breast like you had done as a child. Anger was what you needed now, hot, glowing ire you could build into thick walls against your mother and the rest of the world. No matter what happened, you would not let those walls come down. You would not let her in.

“Dearest” she said again, still trying to placate you “I have no choice. Nothing has gone right for us since your father died. There have been famines, droughts. What little we had in our treasury to begin with has long since been used up. Our people are starving and soon we will be living in a ruin. King Peter is of age to marry. It’s our last chance.”

Your father died because Peter’s soldiers had killed him. Nothing would ever change this fact. And yet your mother, damn her, wanted to sell you off to him like a prize sow at market. Yes, you could see the sense of it, the practicality, but that did not mean you would accept your fate gently either. As far as you were concerned, starving to death in the crumbling walls of the castle you once called home was a much better option to being that murderer's wife.

“Dearest?”

Your mother’s voice was soft, like a prayer, pleading. But they fell on deaf ears. She hadn’t listened to your cries for reason, so why should you listen to hers? You bit your tongue so hard you tasted blood, and the salty, metallic sensation shed any pity you may have once given the woman. This would be a fight to the bitter end.

“Fine. You can hate me for it, but you are going to that party, even if I have to drag you the whole way.”

You finally pulled your gaze away from your hands, and brought it to rest on your mother’s face. Her eyes, a near perfect mirror of your own, shone brightly with unshed tears, and her mouth was set in a thin line, much like yours did when that stubborn streak you shared took over. Though you refused to show it outwardly, in your heart you knew. Come hell or high water, you were going.

“Yes, mother.”

***

You arrived at Cair Paravel a little before sunset. As you and your sister disembarked from your carriage, you couldn’t help but be a little awestruck by the legendary castle.

It was a creation of shining marble and stained glass windows, every inch clearly built by generations of master craftspeople. There was nothing like this in Ettismoor. Everything there was made from the same rough, grey stone. Little concern was given about beauty or ornamentation, practicality coming first above all else.

The inside of the castle was just as large and adorned as the exterior. You were lead into the foyer by a faun dressed in red and gold livery, the already small creature made smaller still by the vaulted ceilings above.

After being escorted through a maze of hallways, each lined with plush rugs and detailed tapestries, you were brought to a small spare bedroom where you were left with your sister to ready for the feast.

Given the large number of guests in attendance, and the fact that your mother had long since dismissed most of your own household staff, there weren’t enough servants to go around. This meant you had to play maid for your sister, not that you particularly minded. It was almost like you were children again, giggling and discussing which hair ribbons to use.

For a moment, you forgot where you were, the walls of this strange castle and it’s unfamiliar noises and smells fading away as you focused intently on braiding and pinning back your sister’s dark curls. However, all too soon the task was done, and the beast that was duty lurked not too far off, ready to drag you downstairs come moonrise.

“You’re beautiful” you said, standing back to admire your efforts as your sister studied herself in the mirror. She had donned an embroidered gown of deep green, indicative of the pine forests that grew in abundance across Ettismoor, and a mask of green silk cut in the likeness of leaves so the wearer would resemble a dryad.

In contrast, your gown was a pale silver, almost white, meant to represent the many snow topped mountains of your homeland. Your mask was the only part of your ensemble that could in fact be called elegant, it was adorned with seed pearls stitched after the branched arms of a snowflake and dusted with bits of mica that shimmered faintly in the candlelight. You almost would’ve been pretty in it, though the illusion was spoiled by the scowl that had become a nearly permanent fixture on your face since you’d left Ettismoor.

“Smile, dearest.” your sister said, turning and playfully pinching at your cheek. You swatted her hand away and exaggerated the downturn of your mouth out of spite.

“I’ll smile when we leave. Are you ready for this farce?”

“As I’ll ever be. Though I wish you wouldn’t be like this. We never get to go to parties, the least you could do is try to enjoy it.”

“Mother said I had to go” you replied, leaning down to kiss her forehead and carefully adjust the edges of her mask one final time “She never said I had to like it.”

***

Loathe as you were to admit it, King Peter certainly knew how to throw a party.

The central ballroom had been impeccably decorated for the occasion, with no detail or expense spared. Over a dozen tables had been filled end to end with plates that held everything from more standard feasting fair like roast venison and rich cakes to exotic dishes from Calomore and Archenland that resembled elaborate sculptures rather than food.

Above, the ceiling was alight with candelabras, each one resembling the twining structure of tree roots with a cluster of glowing spheres on the end of each branch. These spheres, most likely magic in origin, were reflected a thousand times over against the faceted panes of the ceiling high windows and polished marble floors, making it appear as though the ballroom had been set upon by a flock of fallen stars.

All this splendour, however, was nothing in comparison to the guests. Never in your life had you seen so many colours, so may different styles of gowns and fabrics. Before you was every manner of creature that walked on two legs or more, magical and mortal alike. It was impossible to tell the real from the false among the masks and swirling dancers. Centaurs cavorted with fae, who quickly shed their wings to squeeze in at an already crowded feasting table. Mermaids were suddenly able to stand on their tails and walk over to greet giants, who shrunk as the stepped down from stilts and joined the rest of the party.

As beautiful as it was, you personally found the whole thing incredibly overwhelming.

You’d lost your sister in an instant, she’d been asked to dance by a young man with dark eyes that flashed mischievously behind a silver mask with a fox’s muzzle and ears. Nearly an hour later, she was still in his arms, oblivious to all else save the music and each other.

You’d watched them for a little while at first, mostly out of concern for your sister’s well-being, but when it eventually became evident that Mr. Fox was going to behave himself, you quickly grew bored. Left to your own devices and knowing not a soul in attendance save for your sister, you did what every lonely party goer does and sought out the nearest flagon of wine.

As expected, the King offered a wide and choice sampling of vintages. It wasn’t long before two glasses turned to three, then four, and you were nursing a fifth when you felt a touch at your elbow. You turned, ready to tell whoever it was to watch themselves with as much venom as polite society would allow when you were caught off guard by the bluest pair of eyes you’d ever seen.

“Good evening, my lady. Could I trouble you for your name and a dance?”

“I’m no one of consequence,” you replied, secretly impressed you’d managed to say all that without slurring “Who has no interest in dancing.”

“Pity. A friendly chat, then?”

You looked at this stranger sidelong, trying to puzzle out what the hell he was playing at. Those four and a half glasses of wine, however, were making puzzling a bit beyond you. That, and those blue eyes, winking at you like glimpses of the ocean from behind his mask.

“I suppose” you finally said, hoping he didn’t notice your staring and think you simple. “I have nothing better to do”

A vestige of your childhood etiquette lessons suddenly surfaced, and you extended your hand for the young man, expecting him to bow over it or perhaps even shake it. Instead, he leaned down, grasped your fingers in his own and brought your knuckles to his lips. You felt the tips of your ears go hot as the curls of his ginger beard tickled at your skin. It was all you could do to keep from jerking away, though that was to hide your embarrassment rather than in disgust.

“So, are you enjoying the party?” he asked, finally releasing your hand.

You studied your new companion closely, taking scarlet tunic marked with the royal crest, brown breeches and the easy grin peeking out from the roaring maw of his golden lion mask. He looked no different than any other of the couple dozen royal bannermen wandering around the ballroom, but your eyes narrowed in suspicion anyway.

“As much as one can.” you replied, your voice chilled as ice wine “Though I don’t particularly care for the host.”

“No? And here I thought King Peter was universally beloved for bringing about an era of peace.”

You made a very unladylike noise, somewhere between a derisive chuckle and a disgusted snort.

“Peace, yes, at the cost of half the men in Ettismoor, my father specifically.”

The mask made his expression hard to read, but you could’ve sworn you saw him go a few shades paler.

“I’m sorry. My father died fighting too.”

You couldn’t help but make a sympathetic noise in the back of your throat. This young man couldn’t be more than what, twenty and three? There was a pretty good chance he had been fighting alongside his father when he died, not a position you envied.

“You have my condolences. Which war was it?”

The question seemed to make him nervous, and he shrugged it off like one would an ill fitting coat.

“I don’t quite remember, I was only thirteen when it happened. Boys aren’t usually paying attention to those sorts of things.”

You were about to protest, Narnian history was one of your favourite areas of study and you had a feeling you’d be able to sniff out a lie with furthering questioning, when the floor suddenly seemed to buckle beneath you. That fifth glass of wine, which you were now coming to deeply regret. slipped from your grasp and fell to the floor with a mighty clang.

“Shit,” you muttered, bringing a hand up to rub at your aching temple and hide your face from curious stares. If it hadn’t been for your companion’s quick reflexes and his grip on your arm holding you up, you might’ve gone down with your goblet.

“Are you alright?” his voice sounded very far away, as though you were under water.

“I’m sorry.” you said, pointedly avoiding his concerned gaze “I must’ve had too much to drink.”

“You should sit down.”

You were guided to a nearby chair, which you all but fell into. While some waitstaff cleared away the mess, the young man grabbed a seat of his own and pulled it up next to yours. He was sitting much closer than was proper for strangers that you knew, but those blue eyes were still so beguiling you couldn’t bring yourself to mind.

“Have you had anything to eat recently? Or had a drink of water?”

You gave your head a small shake, too woozy for words. In a flash, the young man disappeared into the crowd, only to return a few moments later with a plate of black bread and a goblet of water in hand.

For the next half hour, you found yourself patient to the strangest nursemaid you’d ever seen. Under his care, you nibbled and sipped, and eventually the dizzy spell seemed to pass. During that time, you struck up a conversation again, discussing everything from your families and court gossip to politics and philosophy.

You were surprised to find that despite him being employed in the King’s army, you shared a lot of similar views. He thought Peter was trying to be a good King, but perhaps too quick to agree to his councillor’s calls for bloodshed. When you suggested reforming the council with members from each of the nation’s major townships and voting on matters of state rather than sorting them out with sword in hand, he responded warmly to the idea.

You weren’t used to having someone’s attention so utterly devoted to you, to have someone hanging off of your every word as though you were the only other person in the room. And loathe as you were to admit it, you were becoming equally entranced by him. The warm baritone of his laugh, the way he smiled so easily, the sandy locks that curled at the edge of his jaw and the way he’d bring his hand to rest on your knee when you said something that pleased him, it all fascinated you. Where you came from, there was little to smile about, and even less reason for laughing. What would it be like? To be with someone who seemed to radiate warmth and joy in every breath?

You were about to reconsider his offer for a dance, when you were interrupted by a young woman in a scarlet dress and gold mask that resembled a bear. Your first instinct was to be jealous, if the two of them wore matching colours that certainly implied a closeness. However, you quickly realized how wrong your assumptions were when she spoke.

“Peter, wherever have you been? We’ve been waiting for ages for you to come and open your presents.”

You felt like you were going to faint again. It wasn’t possible. The mask, the simple clothing, you had just assumed…impossible, surely.

The young man looked between the two of you as though he was a rabbit choosing between a snare and the open maw of a wolf. Apparently, less impossible than you thought.

“I’m sorry.” he said, reaching to grasp your hand “I’ve got to go. I…I’m sure you’ll want an explanation and I promise you’ll have one, but tomorrow. You’re staying for the tourney, aren’t you?”

You nodded, dumbly.

“Good. I’ll be riding in the lists, come watch me joust and we can meet at my pavilion after.”

[jell0buss-37]

hiiiii i am absolutely in LOOOVEEEE with your fics<3333

i wanted to request something for peter b parker x fem!reader where it’s just a day in their life (domestic fic basically :3) like the reader owns a flower shop so she gets dressed in the morning so she can open it all while peter is watching her from the bed and talking about all the plans she has for today (and maybe telling her why she can’t stay for awhile in bed with him🤭🤭) then maybe once she’s at the shop, peter stops by to talk to her and leaves her lunch so she isn’t hungry :33

AND maybe possibly peter helping an old lady pick out some flowers and reader being surprised he knows what flowers go with what LMAO

i hope this makes sense and i would love to see what you do with this<33333

have an amazing day/night 🤍

This is so cute 🥺 and thank you!! I hope you like it. I got to use my flower language!

A day with Peter B!

He's most likely coming in from a long night of being spiderman, slipping out of his suit and under the covers next to you around 6 in the morning

You usually wake up around that same time, and aren't usually in bed at the same time as him, usually just walking out as he walks in

But it's a Sunday

And so you both cuddle in the early hours of the day, quiet mumbles passed between you two

Because it was Sunday, you opened your flower shop at 10 instead of 7 in the morning

You had sat up in bed at about 8, his arms around your waist and his head nestled into your stomach, your legs on either side of him, running your fingers through his hair, as he sighs in content

These were his favorite moments

He's dozing off, completely at peace, when you have to get up and start getting ready

He tightens his arms around you, a sound of protest leaving his lips

"Gimme like... 5 more days." "Pete, I have to make breakfast at least."

You end up having to get a muffin at a coffee shop near your flower shop

By around 12:30, he stops by to do his daily visit

"You never gave me my goodbye kiss :(" "Petie, you had your head under the pillows. I had to kiss your shoulder." "It's not the same :((("

He brings you some of his brownies that he had made at around 11 when he woke up that day before heading to see you

You two sit in the back office as he tells you about how his night went

He also brought the leftovers from last night that you had set aside for him

"This was my third plate. Your lasagna always hits the spot honey!"

In turn you tell him about your day so far, and he listens intently. No matter how wild his life as a hero is, he always finds your life interesting

You guys actually met when he was stopping these robbers from breaking into your store. You had been in the back, a baseball bat by your side, shaking

You almost hit him, but he dodged it and helped calm you down

He thought you were really headstrong, and stopped by the next day

He actually was too scared to talk to you, his confidence leaving him every time you'd smile

It took him a week to properly start talking to you

And you've been inseparable since

You guys finish your little lunch at around 1:30

On his way out, he quickly picks out a bouquet and hands it to what looked like a new couple

"Get her some red tulips and red roses. It means I love you newly in flower talk."

He absolutely loves whenever you'd ramble on about different flowers and what they meant

You were always so passionate whenever you spoke about them

And it made you blush whenever you catch him staring at you with such a lovesick look in his eyes

And so you couldn't help but smile whenever he'd help out your customers

He leaned over the counter, planting a big ol kiss to your lips, grabbing your face between his hands

"Big Smooch!" He'd say before doing it

"There's more where that came from ;)"

It always left you flustered, even after he'd flash that goofy grin and flutter his eyelashes at you, almost skipping out the door and on his way back to your guys' apartment

He usually goes back to take his evening nap before you came home to wake him up and have dinner with him before he went to work as the vigilante on Sundays

But when you get off of work at 7:00, you're surprised to see him waiting outside your door, wearing a suit and holding one of your favorite dresses, along with some of your shoes and some of your makeup

"Get ready, doll face. I'm taking you out tonight, and taking the night off to romance your ass."

You roll your eyes, before getting changed in your office, dressing up nicely for him

"Okay pretty lady, hang on tight!"

He swings you two over to a nice restaurant

You guys enjoy a night of laughter and good food, drinking wine and having a lovely date at 8:30

By 9:30 or 10, it didn't really matter, you guys were back in your living room, dancing to a song neither of you cared to learn the name of

You'd start out fast dancing, honestly just stumbling and shuffling around eachother

Then eventually he'd hold you in his arms, your head on his shoulder, his hand holding yours over his heart, the other wrapped safely around your waist. Ever the gentleman

Eventually you'd doze off, and he'd carry you to bed and watch you as you rest peacefully, his heart racing as he watches you

By 11:30, you both are out like a light, in each other's arms and dreaming of more days like this

[the-lavender-room]

Random blurb

what if: the gene cleanser only partly worked

Ft curt feeling bad bc he can’t help anyone

Spider-Man’s back hit the cold, hard ground of the enclosure. The frigid water drenched his suit, and the cold seeped into his aching bones and muscles. He was tired; felt the strange need to sleep now, but he couldn’t. He needed to hold out for a bit longer. For the gene cleanser to work.

The lizard stomped over to him, snarlingly. Spider-Man crouched low to the ground, ready to leap out of the way of any incoming attacks. It lunged at him with a low, guttural hiss. Spider-Man dodged froward; nearly avoiding its claws; the sudden pain and warm liquid let him know.

The lizard narrowed its yellow eyes. It screeched and shook its head violently. It wrapped it claws around its head and clasped to the ground with labored breaths. Spider-Man crawled closer; slowly. Large, brown eyes stared back at him. “Ss-spi…der…Ma-an?” His voice was slow and raspy and tired.

“Doctor Conners! Are you…with me?” Spider-Man yelped, putting his hands up in front of him. ‘He can talk now, but…’

He flicked his tongue out twice “I…th-think…so…” Conners rose to a crouch; eyes aimed at the ground and tail curled around himself. “I h-hurt you…”

Spider-Man place his on the still-reptilian-man’s shoulders. His scales are cold. ‘He’s still a lizard…’ “It’s fine, don’t need to worry about lil’ old me!” He joked in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“DAD!”

They both looked up at the small yell. Billy and Eddie were leaning over the railing; eyes big wide. Spider-Man helped the doctor up the wall. He sat still on the railing; rubbing his cold hands together.

Curt Conners reached a hand out to his son, but pulled back when he saw his own monster-ish claw; blood seeped in between the scales. That did not stop Billy for wrapping around him, tightly; tears staining Conners’s shirt. “I’m-I’m just glad you’re okay!”

“I am too…” Conners replied, bending down to fully embrace his son. His eyes burned with tears as he sobbed silently.

Spider-Man stayed for a while, even after Martha Conners arrived. It wasn’t until he heard the distance sound of sirens that he decided it was time to leave. ‘Go home, take a shower, wrap up my injuries, sleep until graduation…’

————————————————————————

It had been a week since the lizard incident, and since Peter and Gwen had been to the lab. Peter had decided not to use the pictures he took that night; not that the media wasn’t all over it the next morning. “Local scientist turns into giant lizard; fights Spider-Man in subway station!”

When they got to the lab; the entire entrance was swarmed with people and cameras. They pushed their way to the doors; where Eddie was there to pull them in.

“Oh, Peter, may I talk to you for a second…Privately.” Doctor Conners asked when he saw him. His voice still sounded a bit…hissy. Peter followed him to his office, though he could see Martha watching him. Intently.

They stood there in the dimly lit office, awkwardly staring at anything but each other. Conners looked at Peter and flicked his tongue out a few times, a bit too close for Peter, and sighed.

“Are…are you Spider-Man?”

“Uh!… what?! No!” He shuddered. “Why would you think I’m Spider-Man?” He asked, trying to sound as little suspicious as possible.

Conners looked away, a bit embarrassed. “You…uh… smell the same.”

“That’s creepy.” Peter remarked, leaning against the wall.

“I know.” Conners flexed his claws a bit. He looked between the sharp, black nails and Peter before asking. “Is your back okay?”

Peter sighed, “I already told you, I’m not Spider-Man!” He headed for the door; helping Gwen with organizing sounded really fun right now. “My back’s fine, my hand’s fine, I’m not hurt. Because I wasn’t in danger!”

“I didn’t mention your hand.”

Peter’s head slumped against the door, ‘I’m NOT getting out of this!’ He turned to look at the lizard man. “What do you want?”

“Do you need help? I… don’t remember much, but- I hurt you. I could’ve killed you…” he squeezed his tail; tears at the corner of his eyes. “…even if it’s medical supplies, please, just let me help you…”

“whoa, hay! I’ll think about the help! But please stop with the crocodile tears, I feel bad when people cry for me.” He placed a hand on the doctor’s shoulder. “Just tell me your also be helping yourself.” The lizard nodded. “Did you tell anyone?”

“Just my wife.”

“Good, good. How is she taking… this anyway?” Peter gestured to Conners’s body. An attempt to lighten the mood a bit.

“Well, better than I thought at least.”



[denimbex1986]

'Doctor Who has been visibly struggling for nearly a decade. Viewing figures started a decline in the Peter Capaldi era, and the lacklustre scripts of the Jodie Whittaker era meant time was up for many fans.

But the show's getting a major facelift, and in returning showrunner Russell T Davies the BBC have the man who wrote some of its greatest-ever episodes with the likes of Rose Tyler in the Tardis. Sex Education star Ncuti Gatwa will soon be piloting the time machine, but the sci-fi classic needed something to hook fans of the 2000s series back in - and has brought in the big guns with David Tennant reprising his role as the Doctor.

If you haven't watched an episode of Doctor Who since David Tennant said farewell in 2010, you'd be able to pick it right back up here with The Star Beast - the first of three specials marking his return to the show. A spaceship crash-lands on London and the Doctor is called into action - but why is Donna Noble (Catherine Tate) back in his life, and why is there (as she asks) "a bloody martian in the shed"?

Within minutes of the opening titles, Tennant is running about and ranting his way through technobabble just like the good old days. He and Catherine Tate slot effortlessly, instantly, and brilliantly back into their roles, and have the same chemistry that made them so unbelievably watchable when they first appeared on our screens.

Make no mistakes - this is a treat for the fans who were raised on the 2000s series, in the same way Sarah Jane Smith's return in 2006's School Reunion was a nod to those who spent the 1970s hiding behind the sofa from Genesis of the Daleks. It's a big, silly, geeky romp and never really pretends it's trying to be anything else.

No spoilers, but it'll have the Doctor Who nerds in your family jumping up and down on the sofa with glee - both at little references to the Doctor Donna's old adventures and at the new and improved versions of [REDACTED], [REDACTED], [REDACTED] and [REDACTED]. We said no spoilers...

It's admittedly not a perfect episode by any means, and some parts are frustratingly blighted by the issues that have dragged the show down in recent years. It's Doctor Who, and in a sci-fi world constantly rewriting itself with time travel and revealing new bits of its own canon, there's never really an expectation that everything will make perfect sense and you can forgive a bit of clunky exposition.

But some of the episode's biggest plot points come off as surprisingly trite and ill-thought-out. Similarly, Russell T Davies has always woven progressive storylines and diverse characters into his prose - here, though, the attempts to do so are frustratingly ham-fisted (even if well-intentioned and, in principle, welcome).

But the impact of Davies' return is decidedly and instantly a positive. Back at the helm after flexing his sci-fi muscles with 2019's Years and Years and delivering one of the past decade's great character pieces with It's a Sin, it's a complete given he'll write jokes that actually land and emotional beats with some genuine oomph to them.

Donna's relationship with her daughter Rose (Yasmin Finney), for instance, is genuinely sweet and is the perfect step forward in Donna's life where we find her: without her memories of the Doctor and a good 15 years into domestic life. Her mum Sylvia, despite having softened from the constantly-haranguing busybody she was in the earlier series, is as hilarious as ever and it's not long before she and David Tennant are trading barbed words again.

In short, it's nice to be able, once again, to assume that an episode of Doctor Who will be fun, rather than sit through the last five minutes of Countryfile praying you aren't about to be bored silly for the best part of an hour. Just as the worst episodes of Doctor Who feel like they drag on for hours and hours, this one zips along and is gone in a flash like the very best. Bug-eyed monsters, spaceships in London and Catherine Tate yelling at people - this is Doctor Who as you know and love it, but with shinier CGI, better cameras and jokes about pronouns.

David Tennant said on The One Show that this first special was "the world of Doctor Who that you'll recognise," but the second is "unlike any episode of Doctor Who ever done before". Eagle-eyed fans will tell you that between two trailers, endless online clips, and a string of interviews, posters and previews, we know next to nothing about the second of Tennant and Tate's trio of specials, Wild Blue Yonder.

As the credits roll on The Star Beast, there's a sense that show's creators have kept the cards close to their chest with the first 60th anniversary special. It'll well and truly whet your appetite, though - and there's clearly a lot more to come.'

[whatstruthgottodowithit]

The Dating Game [Part Three]

Fandom: Harry Potter [Marauders Era]

Pairing: Sirius Black x Original Female Character, James Potter x Original Female Character, James Potter x Lily Evans

Characters: James Potter, Sirius Black, Lily Evans, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, Dorcas Meadow, Original Female Character, Marlene McKinnon, Mary MacDonald, Sabrina Lovegood

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 3461

Summary: James and Sabrina decide to play the dating game.

Tags/Warnings: Fake Dating, Fake Couple, Kissing, Jealousy, Quidditch, Arguing, Angst, Fluff, Sabrina's outfit inspo

Notes: finally done!

PART ONE // PART TWO // PART THREE

Though James had assured Sabrina not to worry about Sirius he couldn’t help but fret as time drew on without an appearance from his best mate. He didn’t return to the dormitory until well after curfew and when he did he rushed in, climbing into his bed without a word or chance for James to bob his head out of the curtains to check on him. 

Not that he knew what he was going to say. So far his and Sabrina’s little ploy had not garnered the attention either of them wanted but now it was as if they were all playing a game of chicken, the train speeding towards them until one of them gave up the ghost and jumped out the way. That was why James made a resolution, if neither Sirius nor Lily had admitted anything by the end of the week he and Sabrina would have to knock this whole debacle on the head. Not that he got a chance to lay this decision on her though as he had to spend the following morning preparing for the Gryffindor vs Ravenclaw match. As he walked into the great hall he was met with a sea of red and gold from banners and flags to each house member's jumpers and scarves.  Even Sabrina had opted to adorn her house colours, though he doubted she’d be watching most of the game. 

She offered him a smile as he sat down, and a cheery ‘good luck’ though she looked about as happy as he felt, the worry from last night still on his mind. Sirius didn’t appear until the end of breakfast, only scarfing down a piece of toast before he rose, already in his quidditch uniform, and headed to the door forcing James to finish up quickly so that they could walk down together. And despite neither of them speaking, other than to Peter who had hurried along to head down to the pitch with them though he’d be in the spectator stands, they managed to cinch a win. It was a tough game, with the Ravenclaw beaters intent on scuppering James solely though that was no surprise given how spectacularly he’d played. And he wasn’t too proud to admit that without his best friend he might not have been on such good form because even though he was barely speaking to him Sirius was still there blocking every player and bludger that came for his best pal. 

Sabrina had watched the entire thing, nerves bubbling in her stomach as she watched the boys fly about like ants far above them. She’d fretted all night about Sirius, about the look on his face when he’d seen her kissing James. It looked wounded. 

She hadn’t been sure about the reciprocation of his feelings before which was why she’d thought simply baiting him would work. But she should’ve known. Outside of the suave, debonair, painstakingly handsome teen was a sweet, sensitive man who cared deeply even if he pretended he didn’t. That was one of the things she adored in the first place. She’d bashed him for not being honest when she was just as guilty. So as Gryffindor claimed victory over the Ravenclaw she decided she’d end it, once the celebrations were done. 

And of course Gryffindor went all out on the celebrations. After an outpouring of cheering and merriment on the pitch the students had been shepherded back to their common room, the Gryffindor’s wild with excitement, which was only amped as they found the common room now transformed for a party. Gold and red banners hung from the ceiling, music blared from a record player and food and drink gathered on every free table. There was a lot of recapping, a lot of congratulating from various students who came up to James beaming with house pride, and a lot of drinking which had Sabrina feeling merry even if she was thankful not to be noticed, the attention on her ‘beau’. Even Sirius had consented to cheering up, unable to shake the infectious joy of his team mates, though he stayed by the record player, using the role of DJ as means of avoiding his friends. That being said he had hugged James fiercely as they hit the ground of the pitch, congratulating one another before they were swept up in the crowd.

He was standing there now, beer in hand, chatting to Remus though admittedly he wasn’t paying much attention to the conversation, offering indifferent words or grunts where needed. Instead his eyes kept flicking to where James was sitting on the sofa, his mop of dark hair visible above the back of the couch where he was relaxed, a blonde sitting to his left, her head dangerously close to his friend as she kept leaning in to speak. With every glance his smile chipped away.  Fortunately his attention was diverted as a very merry seventh year drifted over to him, throwing his arms around his shoulders as he said, ‘you’re on the music right?’

‘Yeah,’ Sirius said, fighting the urge to shrug him off.

‘Taking requests?’ he asked, ‘it’s gettin’ a bit morbid in here.’

‘Go on then,’ Sirius said, hoping that would shirk him off.

‘Whack on We Are The Champions,’ he said, before strutting off back to his friends gathered in the corner watching them with anticipation. Sirius rolled his eyes but moved to flick through his stack of LPs anyway until he found the one he wanted, waving off the grumble of the crowd as the music died before being reignited again. 

It was a slow melodic build that was harshened by the seventh year and his friends who immediately jumped in on the chorus as they realised their request had been heard. Soon enough every student in the room was joining in, revelling in their victory as they called out.

 We are the champions  We are the champions  No time for losers  'Cause we are the champions of the World.

James was singing from his seat, his hand in Sabrina’s as the whole couch swayed to the music until they were suddenly pulled up by Marlene and Mary to dance beside the fireplace, huddled in a group of people. James was smiling so hard his cheeks were hurting until Mary smacked him on the arm and said, ‘you should make a speech!’

He glanced at her, finding her brown eyes wide and glinting as the idea set in. He knew it was just a drunken idea but that meant it was something she wouldn't let go of and apparently neither would others as Marlene said, ‘yeah go on Potter!’

‘Nah,’ James laughed, ‘I’m too sozzled for that.’

‘C’mon James,’ Peter encouraged from his other side.

‘Honestly I don’t know what to say,’ James said.

‘Since when do you opt out of a chance to gloat?’ Lily said scathingly from where she was still sitting, legs crossed over one another as she held her glass in hand, staring at it intently as an excuse not to look up.

James swallowed thickly and didn’t reply, his usual repertoire with her feeling empty and awkward now instead of the natural quipping it normally was.

‘Oh go on mate!’ Peter said, nudging his arm, ‘you’re the bloody reason we won.’

‘Yeah Potter!’ Mary said before calling the crowd to attention as she yelled, ‘speech!’

‘Guys,’ Sabrina said, seeing the discomfort in his eyes as all eyes turned to him, some muttering to others to get them to be quiet. James shook his head, waving her off as he knew there was no point fighting his friends.

‘Alright then,’ he said, clearing his throat and grabbing his half-empty bottle as he thought about what to say.

‘Shut it everyone!’ Mary decreed before gesturing that he had the floor. Sabrina slipped her hand into his free one and squoze it reassuringly, receiving a smile in return.

‘Well first I wanna congratulate the whole team for being on top form today,’ James said, looking around at the sea of happy faces. Sirius was standing at the back, watching him with a stony expression that separated him from the pack. Again James’ excitement dimmed but nevertheless he pressed on, unable to keep his adoring fans waiting, ‘without you lot we wouldn’t have won.’

‘Well you helped a bit,’ Peter mused, earning a laugh from everyone that made him beam with pride.

‘Yeah but it’s a team effort,’ James replied, gesturing to the wider crowd with his drink as he added, ‘same with you lot in the stands. Without you there wouldn’t be a reason to try as hard as we do.’

‘Not even to make sure Slytherin doesn’t win the cup?’ someone heckled from somewhere in the room.

‘Well I suppose that’s incentive in itself. Either way we still managed it so thanks and lets have some fun eh? Cheers,’ James said, raising his bottle as a chorus of replies rang out.

‘And let's get thoroughly rat-arsed,’ Mary shouted, earning a louder cheer as she pushed into the room, Marlene trailing behind her as they went for more drinks.

It was a move that knocked Sabrina into James, forcing him to grab onto her so that she wasn’t pulled along or spilled her own drink. She could feel his own bottle in his hand, nestled by her waist, her arm on his bicep as he’d steadied her. She smiled at him and to his disappointment he felt nothing. Nothing more than platonic happiness and looking at him Sabrina felt the same.

‘Well done,’ she said.

‘Thanks,’ James said, leaning further in so that she could hear him over the din of the next song on the record, ‘can’t believe they made me make a speech.’

‘Well at least if this quidditch thing doesn’t work out we know a public speaking career could be on the cards,’ she teased.

‘Oh yeah, next minister for magic I am,’ James grinned. Sabrina smiled back before she sighed. They were having fun but there was no point putting off the inevitable and so she said, ‘James look-’

But James wasn’t listening, he was too busy looking over her shoulder at where Lily had just slammed her drink down onto the coffee table and strode off, shoving through throngs of disgruntled students as she headed for the door. Sabrina whipped her head around and watched her go and before James could stop her she was heading out the portrait hole too, not slowing down as he called her name.

Sabrina had to give it to the girl she was fast. So quick that had she not followed her when she did she wouldn’t have seen the way she turned heading towards the courtyard. Given it was still spring and the night had drawn ever so close the air outside was cold and Lily’s shirt did nothing to protect her from the chill of it. She didn’t even know why she was out here; it wasn’t as if there was anywhere to sit down and she was liable to get cold quickly if she didn’t go back inside. All she knew was that she could no longer sit there watching Sabrina and James cosy up to one another. It made her insides spin and the room much to hot for her liking. That was why she had headed in the direction of a breeze, hoping the cool would clear her head. And it was working well until she heard her name called and turned to find Sabrina standing on the steps of the courtyard, Jamse a few steps behind him and Sirius coming into view just behind him. James glanced at his friend as he appeared but said nothing watching Sabrina and Lily instead.

‘What do you want?’ Lily said, folding her arms across her chest and holding her head high. Sabrina came a touch closer. In her Mary Janes they were almost the same height, looking at each other eye to eye as she stepped onto the cobbled stone of the courtyard.

‘Are you okay?’ Sabrina asked softly.

‘Fine,’ Lily said, glancing at James and tightening her jaw as she felt the sharp sting of tears in her eyes.

‘Are you sure? You run off pretty quickly,’ Sabrina reasoned.

‘Well sorry if I don’t want to watch you snog Potter’s face off,’ Lily said snarkily. At that Sabrina bristled, the original purpose of the prank blaring loud and clear. She had the floor now to just tell the truth and she couldn’t do it, more to the point she was angry at her because of it which was starting to get under her skin as she said, ‘well you were asking me to the other day. Why’s today any different?’

‘Why him?’ Lily shot back, taking Sabrina off guard.

‘What?’ she asked.

‘Out of all the people you could’ve picked to date you picked him,’ Lily said, sounding more upset than she intended, ‘why?’

‘Why not?’ Sabrina replied, ‘James is a good guy.’

‘Did you only just realise that? Because you could have anyone in the school and you picked him after years of being friends with him and no attraction and then boom one day you picked him!’ Lily said angrily.

‘So?’ Sabrina said.

‘It’s weird!’ Lily shouted. James and Sirius were watching on awkwardly now. It was getting more heated and though he couldn’t see Sabrina’s face he could see Lily's and she was getting more upset by the second. He was going to intervene, try and distract some attention to help them both calm down but Sirius put his hand on his arm, stopping him from moving forward. He wanted to hear this explanation.

‘Why do you care?’ Sabrina said, feeling the acceptance coming if she could just push that bit more, ‘I thought you didn't like him.’

‘Of course I bloody do!’ Lily shouted, ‘why do you think-‘

‘I know,’ Sabrina said, cutting her ranting short as her mouth fell agape though she recovered quick enough to say, ‘what?’

‘I know you like him,’ Sabrina said offering her a sympathetic smile, ‘I’ve known all along I was just hoping this would make you realise you did too. Instead of leading him on for the sake of it.’

‘I wasn’t leading him on!’ Lily protested, blushing as Sabrina raised an eyebrow, ‘besides how could you mess with me like that!’

‘It got you to admit the truth didn’t it,’ Sabrina reasoned. Lily sighed.

‘That’s not the…you shouldn’t have done that,’ Lily said sadly.

‘If it makes you feel any better it wasn’t meant to be like this. It was supposed to be a laugh,’ Sabrina said, moving forward to hug her friend loosely, ‘you were just a little more stubborn than planned. I’m sorry.’

‘It’s okay,’ Lily said, smiling sadly though she found her eyes trailing over to James who was far enough away he could no longer hear what either of them were saying as evidenced by the panicked look on his face.

‘Maybe now you can stop dancing around the fact that you actually like one another,’ Sabrina said softly, ‘he really likes you Lily.’

‘I really like him too,’ she said, gnawing on her lip nervously.

‘If it makes you feel any better he’s not as big of a prat as he makes out,’ Sabrina quipped.

‘I heard that,’ James said from somewhere close behind them. She didn’t turn but pulled her hand away from Lily to offer him the finger, giggling with Lily before she said, ‘maybe you two should go and talk about it somewhere?’

‘Good idea,’ Lily said, hugging her friend tightly before letting her go and heading up the steps into the castle before they disappeared from view.

Sirius had been watching the whole thing, trying to wrap his head around the entire charade. He barely paid attention to his friends as they left, James offering him an apologetic smile before he disappeared. He was too focused on Sabrina, on the feelings that churned in his stomach at the sight of her. Before this whole thing had started he hadn't been sure he liked her. She was a friend, a good one and considering he and the opposite sex were rarely just friends he wasn’t sure he wanted to meander into that territory and risk mucking things up for something that might be nothing. But seeing her with James had ruined him, sent him almost as mad as it had Lily though he couldn’t quite bring himself to have the same outburst.

If he was a different man, one not raised in expectation and propriety he would’ve rushed to her, told her how relieved he was that she wasn’t dating James and how it was him he wanted her to be with if she would Just let him. If he rid himself of all modesty and decorum he would’ve hit James the moment he saw them together just as he had wanted to. But no, he couldn’t do that.

In fact as she turned round, her face growing surprised as she realised he was there, he couldn’t find anything more to say than, ‘you two aren’t dating.’

‘Nope,’ Sabrina said, coming closer to him.

‘Why lie?’ he asked.

‘It made Lily see sense didn’t it?’ she shrugged. Sirius stood up off the wall he’d been leaning against and advanced towards her until they were feet apart. He wanted to believe that it was just a prank, a joke and nothing more, but he was scared. Scared that in his failure to pursue her properly he'd lost her to someone even if it was supposed to be a sham.

‘Yeah but what if she hadn't got upset. You would've been hurting her and not even know,’ Sirius said, hoping she’d say something that would make him feel better about the hurt in his own chest.

‘I wasn’t going to marry him,’ Sabrina said aggravatedly, ‘we would've fake split up.’

‘And if you fell for each other,’ he challenged, moving closer as if he could spot the lies in her gorgeous blue eyes.

‘Not a chance,’ she said.

‘That kiss looked pretty real to me,’ he challenged.

‘That was only because you were teasing us,’ Sabrina said.

‘Yeah right,’ Sirius scoffed.

‘It’s true,’ she said, earnestly placing her hand on his bicep. Even through his jumper her touch felt like lava, igniting his body on fire in a way that terrified him so he pulled away, trying to push his feelings down or find a way that he wouldn’t have to be honest with her, ‘yeah, I guess. I mean you don’t want to date anyone right? Should've known it was fake.’

 ‘I do want to date. I thought me going out with James would prove that,’ she said, stopping him in his tracks and making him look back at her. His grey gaze was heavy on her face now, making her shift awkwardly as she held her elbow, as if her arm across he could hold her together. That was like music to his ears and yet he was reluctant.

‘Why do you say no to everyone who asks you then?’ he asked puzzled, though her words were music to his ears.

‘Because I don’t want to date them,’ she said, she could feel him being reeled in now, dancing around the topic like James and Lily would. So she needed to be brave. If he couldn’t be honest she’d have to be.

‘But you want to date someone?’ he asked.

‘Yeah,’ she said, moving towards him so that there was barely a foot between them, her big blue eyes staring at him as she said, ‘someone who gets very irritable about me dating his best friend. Someone who was very intent on watching everyone who asks me out. Someone who doesn’t realise the reason I’m oblivious to that is because I’m too busy ogling him.’

‘What if you and this person don’t work out?’ Sirius asked quietly, his heart singing but his head very much worrying, ‘I mean what if he’s never dated a friend before.’

‘Well then if it doesn’t work out we go back to being friends,’ Sabrina said, moving to wrap her arms around his waist. Sirius sighed, ‘you make it sound so easy.’

‘Oh it's not. I'm no fan of the dating game, believe me,’ she said, leaning in, ‘but sometimes it's worth it for the right person.’

‘Yeah?’ he asked, his hand brushing past her cheek as he moved a lock of golden hair over her shoulder.

‘Yeah,’ she said, ‘so c’mon.’

‘What?’ Sirius asked.

‘Are you going to show if you’re a better kisser than Potter or not?’ she smiled.

And with that Sirius black made the final move of the game. 

Sirius Black Tags

@caitlin1996 @imthebadguyyy

[rrickgrrimes8]

Request Guideline (2023 Edition)

if you haven’t read my last post (i’ll link it here if you want to read) i’ve decided to revamp my page a little. i’m getting back into writing so i thought i should make another request guideline that better aligns with me and what i want to write and who i want to write for. so enjoy ;)

please make requests here. if there’s any problem with the link let me know! (the link doesn’t work at the moment i’ll add it as soon as i get my laptop back — click the link in my bio or on my masterlist in the mean time :) )

Guidelines:

When requesting please give me the character/celebrity, the show or movie they are from, a description of what you want, whether it will be fluff, angst, smut etc and if you want to be tagged. 

i may not always do smut, especially if it’s not something i’m comfortable with. this is not always the case however but if it is then i’ll let u know if i cannot complete the request.

Please specify if you would like it to be a female, gender neutral or male reader. Just as i explained in my previous post i do not write malexmale smut as it is nothing something i have any experience with - sorry. I will do threesomes (or more) where at least one woman is present :) 

I wont write an imagine about a gay character being straight. 

I am willing to write imagines about darker topics. Such as depression, suicide, eating disorders, etc. I will not however write in detail about rape but i am okay with it being mentioned/ hinted.

My intention is not to glorify or romantise any of these thing, especially since some of them are things i have gone through myself. In the past i haven’t always been sensitive or appropriate with the way i’ve handled them and i’m incredibly sorry if i’ve ever offended anyone or triggered them - this was never my intention. I have taken down some of the work i no longer feel comfortable being public for this reason so please do let me know if something i write bothers you and i’ll take it down.

I also dont like writing imagines where the character/celebrity is a kidnapper or murderer sorry. I also wont do incest relationships.

I dont do ships. I do reader imagines or if youd like to add a name to your request then ill more than happily do it like that.

I will do imagines on plus sizes readers. I will do imagines for family imagines as well and platonic ones too - please assure this is clear within the request. 

When you request something dont expect it to be up straightaway but i will try my hardest to be as quick as possible. I know with my track record that’s not saying much but i really do intend to be better and i’ll try and be more transparent about where i’m at with requests.

In the future there may be some changes to this list based on what i am interested in at the current time. Also if a character you want to request for isnt on the list but the actor is feel free to ask if i’ll do it for that character :)

I dont consent to anyone using my work without permission and if you see anyone doing that please let me know :)

If you dont like my work then feel free to block/ ignore it but please do not sned hate (i’m too soft for that shit) I will take criticism and welcome corrections if necessary. If you like it please like the post and if possible reblog it. Thank you!!

The Last Of Us:

Joel Miller — this can be both romantic and platonic

Ellie Williams (aged up)

Tommy Miller

Tess Servopoulos

Henry Burrell

Sarah Miller (aged up)

The Walking Dead:

Rick Grimes

Daryl Dixon

Michonne

Glenn Rhee

Maggie

Carl Grimes

Negan

Doctor Who:

Tenth Doctor

Eleventh Doctor

Martha Jones

Rose Tyler

Clara Oswald

Rory Williams

Donna Noble

Ninth Doctor

Amy Pond

Pedro Pascal & Co:

Joel Miller

Frankie Morales

Javier Gutierrez

Javier Peña

Marcus Moreno

Dieter Bravo

Cillian Murphy & Co:

Tommy Shelby

Patricia Kitten Braden

Jonathan Crane

Fischer

Capa (Sunshine)

Jim (28 days later)

Neil (Watching the Detectives)

Spiderman (Homecoming-):

Peter Parker

MJ

Liz Allan

Ned

Teen Wolf:

Stiles Stilinski

Lydia Martin

Scott Mcall

Kira Yukimura

Stranger Things:

Steve Harrington

Robin Buckley

Max Mayfield (aged up)

Eddie Munson

Lucas Sinclair (aged up)

Please bear in mind that if a character isn’t on here that you can still just ask me if i do them :) You can also check out my previous request guidelines for the character list of who i write for because i may still write for some of them :))

*NONE OF THESE GIFS ARE MINE. CREDITS TO THE OWNERS*

[songofaurora]

Game of Thrones Convention 2022 - Day3:

It has come to an end.

Probably the most active day of all three. People definitely turned up to see Kit Harington and as previously stated he looked well and in good spirit. He was involved in two panels, one in the beginning and one at the very end. Looking back at my previous posts I had noticed a few panels missing on the list. This was not intentional, it’s just hard to follow what is happening on what days, when you are not attending yourself and require information from different observers.

Now that many panels have been uploaded online, I plan to do a few separate posts dissecting the panels one-by-one and posting any nuggets I find along the way. For this post specifically, I have decided to focus only on Kit Harington’s two Q & A Panels.

After watching the whole video I feel I am certain about a few things. Details about the Snow show was never suppose to leak so early and I don’t think it will ever get green lit or go into production until Winds of Winter is released or close to it at least. My feelings on the Jon Snow show is, Kit does risk putting too much of himself into the character, I think he’s always struggled with that. This may be helped with Georges input and say, however, it does seem that George has already resigned to the fact that HBO’s Jon Snow and ASOIAF Jon Snow are two very different beings.

The show is likely to be a one-off with 10 episodes and if it is filmed during other HOTD seasons, it will probably be low budget, meaning very few scenes of Ghost, no big kings landing scenes and limited cast. Regardless I think this project was always suppose to be limited in all areas, heavily focusing on characters rather than big sequences. Almost guaranteed roles is Kristofer Hivju (Tormund) and Sophie turner (Sansa). Everyone else I’m unsure of, possible small appearances from Isaac Hempstead Wright and John Bradley. Peter Dinklage and Emilia Clarke, doubtful.

There is a chance this takes place 10 years later, Jon Snow will eventually re-connect with family and in turn re-connect with himself. Throw in a possible love interest (would be funny if it was just Rose in a wig) and a child he can care for again whether his own or one he adopts. More Wildings, more black knights and probably hashing out issues and righting wrongs. One of those being accepting he is not Ned and that Ned was his own man and so is Jon. 

To be honest, there are so many ways in which direction this show could go, so I don’t know. We don’t even know if the nights watch pledge counts anymore and if he took it again. What I do know is, I have a lot of panels to catch up on and I am already exhausted...

- ♪

[saintsofthestarfield]

Wolfstar Ficlet: Wonderless

In honor of the full moon tonight, I give you soft wolfstar with a little angst :)

—————

It was one of those rare times, fragile moments, where Peter was off smelling the roses and James was tied up with quidditch practice; here Remus and Sirius had bountiful solitude. The freedom of open curtains and soft kisses, passing air from one set of lungs to the other and back; the freedom of tangled legs and wonderless fingertips, retracing the same scars as yesterday and counting the same vertebrae as last year; the freedom of mindless touches and curious mouths, pushing under sweaters and tracing jawlines with the only intention to feel, memorize. These rare, fragile moments where the sun filtered in from the arching window, casting them in rays of gold, underlining the blues and pinks in Sirius’ complexion and the yellows and browns in Remus’ own. Fragile moments like these where all it took was one inquiry of the brain and one slip of the tongue to shatter it all.

Sirius pulled back from Remus’ kiss-flushed lips, admiring how his yellow eyes glowed golden and his scars flashed silver in the evening light. He visually traced the crook of his nose, as he’d done thousands of times before, getting distracted by the splatter of freckles diverged by a thick, jagged streak of pinkish silver. It was almost second nature, the way he reached out and thumbed over the scar, following from where it sat high on his nose to where it stretched up to his temple, vanishing into the curl of his hair.

“You’ve never told me about this one.” Sirius whispered into the mouth of the boy beneath him. Almost immediately, he watched as Remus’ brows drew together ever so slightly, obviously caught off guard by the unspoken question.

Remus thought the memory over, remembering the way he was only a child when his body ripped itself apart for the first time. The high pitched screams and carnal yelps escaping from a boy whose bones were breaking faster than he could black out. The flesh of his face being pulled apart by some magnetic force, making way for his human skull to form an animals snout. The fight of fading consciousness in a dark, dank room he knew he couldn’t escape. And then possibly the most scaring time; the hours spent between re-emerging from the wolf and his father retreaving his body from the spell-bound bunker, naked, sobbing, and pleading for someone— anyone to help him. And finally, the next week when they we informed no amount of medical magic or potion work could heal his self-inflicted beast-caused injuries.

“It’s not my favorite story,” Remus whispered back, “but, maybe one day.”

“I want to know everything about you, Moony. The pleasant and the painful.” He thumbed over the scar again, leaning in to press a light kiss to the scar drawn diagonally through his eyebrow. He’d been there for that one, so he had a clue.

“I know.” He said a bit sorrowfully. He turned his head to kiss Sirius’ palm before finding his lips once again, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

[razieltwelve]

Babysitter (Final Rose x MCU)

This is set in the AU in which Averia is reborn as Peter Parker’s older sister. Her presence changes a lot of things, including when certain individuals appear.

X     X     X

“You two look as though you could use a break.”

Tony made a face. “It’s that bad, huh?” He glanced at Averia. 

The pink-haired woman had been a godsend. Apart from the work she did as part of research and development, she had also been helping him to tame the mountain of paperwork that had accumulated over the years. Normally, he’d have been stuck doing it with just Pepper, but Averia had clearance for basically everything although he had a sneaking suspicion that clearance wouldn’t have mattered.

As she had put it herself, Saviour was bullshit.

Between the three of them, they’d done a remarkably good job of keeping up with things, and Tony and Pepper had no intention of letting things get as bad as they had been. Of course, whether or not they could manage that also depended on how often the world needed saving.

The whole Thanos thing had definitely driven home how tenuous the peace they enjoyed could be. Had things gone differently... well, Tony preferred not to think about it.

“Tony,” Averia replied. “You and Pepper look exhausted.”

Pepper’s chuckled. “We kind of are. Between running the company and everything else...” She sighed. “We both love Morgan so much, but...”

“Kids can be exhausting,” Averia said. “I get it.”

“Oh?” Tony sighed.

“I have done quite a bit of babysitting in my time,” Averia replied. “Never had any problems.”

Tony snickered. “Ever use your powers while babysitting?”

“No comment. Although I won’t lie. I have been sorely tempted.” Averia put aside another piece of paperwork, and Tony and Pepper shared a look. She was a machine. “How about you and Pepper take the coming weekend off, just you two. I can watch Morgan.”

“Averia...” Pepper began.

“I know how badly the Thanos Incident has shaken you both. It’s completely understandable that you’ve been caught up with rebuilding effort and reluctant to take your eyes off Morgan, but she’ll be fine.” Averia glanced away from the paperwork. “I promise.”

Tony took a deep breath. Averia had been off world when Thanos had attacked Earth with an entire army and fleet at his back. The madman had done quite a number on them, and only Thor’s arrival at the head of Asgard’s forces had kept them from being completely overwhelmed. Thankfully, Averia had shown up later with a ragtag fleet of her own. Apparently, she’d been quite busy in space and had made a lot of friends.

Still, Tony would never forget having to tell Morgan to get into the panic room and stay there. Seeing his daughter, his little girl, crying her eyes out while the whole world went to shit was not something he ever wanted to experience again. He still had nightmares, now and then, of things going wrong, of not being strong enough to protect her and save the world. He was doing better now, but he wasn’t stupid. He needed more time to get over it, and he was still a bit paranoid about being apart from his daughter. Pepper could defend herself, but Morgan? That was another story.

At the same time, though, he and Pepper were being run ragged. There was so much reconstruction work to do, and there were still people who refused to let them help. Despite all the good they’d done, Thor was from Asgard and there were people who continued to doubt that Averia was even human. Those people didn’t want their help, no matter how much they needed it.

He and Pepper desperately needed a few days off, just to themselves, but when the topic came up, neither of them could bring themselves to part with Morgan. But if Averia was offering...

“Tony, Pepper,” Averia said gently. “I’ll watch Morgan. She’ll be fine.”

Tony nodded, and he had a brief flashback to the final battle. Thanos blasting through him and Steve like they weren’t even there. The others going down one by one until Thor finally made it there, the Asgardian and Scarlet Witch driving Thanos away from Vision. And then a hail of swords falling on the battlefield, blades made of absolute bullshit doing what they did best -

“Okay.” Tony said. “Let’s do that.”

Pepper nodded. “Thank you.”

“It’s fine.” Averia smiled. “And I can call you with Morgan every night.”

X     X     X

Tony and Pepper laughed as Morgan and Averia appeared on screen.

Their daughter was clinging onto Averia’s back like some kind of koala, and it was clear that the two had been very busy. There was a makeshift paper crown on Averia’s head and another on Morgan’s. Averia might also have a bit of paint smudged on her cheeks.

“What are you doing, kiddo?” Tony asked. He and Pepper were back in their hotel room. They hadn’t done much during the day, just walk around, talk, eat, and unwind. Neither of them had realised quite how much they’d needed the chance to just decompress.

“We’re princesses,” Morgan said, patting Averia on the head. “See our crowns?” She pouted. “But Auntie Averia said she won’t make a proper crown without your permission, daddy!”

“Oh?”

Averia’s lips twitched. “No power use unless it’s necessary.”

“But you could make a proper crown?” Tony asked, grinning. “You just need my permission, right?”

“Or Peppers.”

“Well, you’ve got my permission,” Tony said. “Pepper?”

“Go ahead.” Pepper nudged Tony. “I kind of want to see this.”

“Yay!” Morgan tightened her hold on Averia. “They said yes! Can you make me a fairy princess?”

“I suppose...”

Averia carefully eased Morgan off her back. “A fairy princess, huh?”

There was a flash of light, and Morgan was suddenly wearing a shimmering dress made of crystal. Despite that, it moved like real fabric, shifting back and forth as if caught in a breeze. Averia gestured again, and a crystal crown appeared on Morgan’s head followed by crystal wings on her back. A final gesture called up a mirror, so Morgan could look at herself.

“WOW!” Morgan gasped, and her wings beat the air. “You really did it! Thank you!”

“Holy shit...” Tony whispered. “We are in so much trouble,” he said to Pepper. “How are we going to top that?”

“Tony!” Pepper said, laughing and try to look aghast but failing miserably.

“You look great, kiddo,” Tony said to Morgan. “Also, Averia, your attendance at Morgan’s future birthday parties is now mandatory.”

She chuckled. “I wasn’t intending to miss any.”

“And look what Auntie Averia drew for me!” Morgan said excitedly as she floated around, courtesy of Averia’s powers. “Show them!”

Averia held up a drawing. It showed some kind of orange... wolf thing. “I was telling her a story, so she asked me to draw it. I’m not much of an artist, though.”

“It looks great,” Pepper said. “Like something straight out of a comic or a picture book.”

A ghost of something passed across Averia’s expression. “I got Saviour to draw it,” Averia explained. “Anyway, we’re just calling in to let you know that everything is fine. I’ll be tucking in Morgan soon, but I thought it would be best if we called you first.”

“Thank you,” Pepper said.

Averia nodded. “Anyway, why don’t you tell your mommy and daddy what we did today, Morgan?”

X     X     X

Author’s Notes

Yes, Morgan was introduced to Gary. Although Averia excels at a lot of things, Diana is a much better artist. The pictures that Averia ‘drew’ are actually copies of pictures from her memories, pictures that Diana drew.

Anyway, Averia is a pretty good babysitter. Great with kids and you don’t have to worry about anything bad happening because anything bad is getting horribly stabbed.

Incidentally, in this timeline, Asgard doesn’t get blown up, and the Snap doesn’t happen. Since Avengers 2 and a lot of other stuff is less horrific, Tony doesn’t struggle so much, and he and Pepper get together earlier. Hence, Morgan exists earlier too.