#but on a short trip i feel i can justify it

[thistransient]

Today circumstance intervened, and I was forced to arise at a slightly more reasonable hour because I'd extended my stay at my hotel (no Singapore flings or train rides to nowhere for me in the end), but with a separate online booking for a different room, and thus had to check out, leave my bag, and check back in later. I wish I had known earlier that the morning concierge was quite cute, would have made it easier to get out of bed before noon!

[sleepingdeath-light]

hey:D ‼️ slashers x a femme bimbo reader? i would love michael, tommy, vincent+ bo, and jennifer? (whoever else u choose is fine) please and thank you!

Bimbo S/O Headcanons | Multiple Slashers (18+)

thank you for requesting, anon!

reader is assumed as being female and a bimbo

there’s no sex described, but there’s a lot of sexual talk around the reader, hence the smut tag

this includes : billy lenz, brahms heelshire, carrie white, jennifer check, michael myers, the sinclair twins & thomas hewitt

minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

billy lenz

billy is a pervert by nature and would have sexualised you irrespective of how you acted or what you wore (when there’s a will, there’s a way and all of that)

but you being a bimbo made it all so much easier and so much more enjoyable for the unknown voyeur

it seemed like everything you did have him an erection as he stared at you through cracks in the ceiling and walls and doors

how your short pink skirt would ride up and show your pretty panties whenever you bent over or sat down

how your tight white shirt did little to hide your breasts or the fact that you’d opted to go braless

the way you frequently stumbled and tripped in those pink heels — exposing your ass to him more often than even he could have wished for

all of that was enough of a dream come true, but the moment you picked up the phone and he got a true exposure to your delightfully ditzy and naively trusting persona this man was a goner

you were his dream-girl through-and-through

his pretty piggy who’s only good at taking billy’s thick cock into her dumb holes

his bimbo that has no chance of escaping him or his lewd calls and comments

of course you were his the moment you stepped foot in his house, but you continuously exposing yourself for him (as he perceived it, anyway) just gave him the go ahead to claim you entirely

and you’d best believe that he’ll want you dressing as sluttily as possible at all times

bo sinclair

although he tends to present himself as the perfect southern gentleman at first glance, bo is a verifiable pervert with pretty much no shame

it would have taken a remarkable amount of self restraint for him to keep up the act in front of your group — especially with you looking and acting like that

tight shirt, mini skirt and a body that he just wanted to lose himself in

god it was like you were made for him, but that could wait until he had splintered your group

but until then, he sated himself by glancing down your top whenever you leaned forwards, lifting up your skirt whenever he got the chance and catching you whenever you tripped (getting away with many less-than-innocent touches due to your obliviousness)

his advances get more and more aggressive and obvious as your group is picked off one by one until you’re the only one left untouched and somehow still oblivious to your situation

and bo finds himself torn between keeping you around as an alibi and a good fuck, or just using and discarding you to vincent as he’d done before

in the end, of course, he ends up deciding to let you live whilst putting on a whole show of wooing you so that you think you’re staying willingly — justifying it by saying you’ll help future “tourists” feel at home

but his brothers can tell that he’s grown more than a little fond of your presence (beyond, even, your sex appeal and naïveté — shockingly to all involved, he actually seems to care)

brahms heelshire

you were not what anyone in the heelshire family were looking for when they sought out a nanny

you were clumsy and naive; not being able to do much in education or housework without inevitably messing something up

you were a veritable slut without the intent; with tiny skirts and translucent shirts that could barely even be considered clothing and that certainly weren’t conducive with the image they wanted to present as a family

but, to brahms, you were perfect

the perfectly dainty damsel in distress for him to leer and gawk at from behind the walls as you went about your day hopelessly attempting to abide by his schedule

and whilst you frequently forgot certain rules, he let you off — equally because he knew you weren’t acting intentionally and because he loved watching you too much to let you go

his favourite times of day were those that necessitated you coming into contact with water or bending over because they gave him the most wonderful views of your body that often appeared in his masturbation fantasies

loves the way you coo over and jokingly scold his doll — actually just loves hearing you say his name and talk to “him”

is much more possessive and protective when it comes to anyone bringing supplies to the house because of, well, everything about you

like it’s all well and good having a pretty little thing with nice tits and ass to stare at all day and night, but issues arise when somebody else gets to look at what’s his

and even if you’re too ditzy and naive to recognise the grocery boy’s intentions, brahms is all too aware of what goes on in a man’s head

and he may just take it upon himself to show everyone, including you, what happens when someone touches what belongs to him

carrie white

carrie was brought up in a highly conservative christian background — so, needless to say, your presence itself would be a significant shock to the poor girl

everything about you is a complete upturning of the values she was raised with, from your personality to the way you dressed

god, the way you dressed was sin personified and every time she caught herself staring she’d mutter a quick prayer for forgiveness

tight white shirts, short pink skirts and high pink heels — a recipe for disaster that she found herself drawn to

those miniskirts would so frequently ride up your thighs and expose your tiny pink panties to anyone who dared to look whenever you stalled in readjusting them (though they were always short enough to expose those thighs of yours)

those shirts that would turn wonderfully transparent whenever you got even slightly damp (be that through rain or spillage) and exposed your otherwise bare chest to prying eyes

those heels that were the cause of so many incidents like those above

and, values be damned, she was more thankful for your obliviousness than anything else as she didn’t know what she’d do if you recognised the way her peers leered at you

how she looked at you with so much lust, with eyes that lingered too long to be innocent on your chest and the apex of your thighs and your ass

how she thought of you whenever she touched herself, one hand balled up in a fist that she bit down on to muffle herself whilst the other crept between her legs to toy with her puffy lips and swollen clit and seeping hole

you, in all of your naïveté and clumsiness, were at the centre of all of her fantasies and she wanted nothing more than to keep you in the dark about it all for as long as possible

jennifer check

you and her will almost inevitably end up sharing clothing and/or accessories because your styles match so well

date nights will consist of you sharing skincare routines and doing each other’s makeup

she uses your nature and appearance to her benefit, ramping up her sexuality with you in public to help lure in men for her to kill and feed on

she repays you with plentiful sex, affection and spoiling with money she gets from her “boyfriends”

will shamelessly ogle you whenever you lean forwards or bend over and gets a kick out of flustering you just as much as when she gets away with being a complete perv

gropes you in public like all of the time and usually plays it off as innocent or accidental — would stop if you asked, though

50/50 whether she lets you in on what she’s doing so you can help or strings you along as an accomplice

loves how oblivious you are and gets off on the power dynamic between you and her as the more experienced, dominant partner

buys you the most transparent, slutty, short clothes that she can find for you both so you can match, she can get food, and she can see as much of you as possible at all times

she will shift targets on a dime if she notices someone getting too close to comfort and taking advantage you in the same way she does — and she makes a point to show everyone that you’re very much so taken

makes you wear underwear that she chooses so anyone else ogling you gets a blatant reminder of who you belong to

michael myers (any)

initially michael found your demeanour more annoying and inconvenient than anything else

you were attractive, of course, but your clumsiness and obliviousness just made him frustrated — made him want to stalk you to force you to notice the word around you

and he did. for well over a month

even going into your home and standing over you as you slept, rearranging things in your house, anything to get you to notice that something was up

but you never did

even when he confronted you on your walk home and started following you, very obviously, you just chatted with him as if nothing was wrong and how much of a coincidence it was you were going the same way

you even complimented his mask — which immediately made you more tolerable

and almost made up for the dozen times he’d watched you trip over thin air or otherwise expose yourself to people unintentionally

after a while he even became somewhat protective, targeting people that were sexually aggressive or otherwise weird towards you to get his frustrations out before returning to his routine of stalking you

at one point he began to masturbate to the sight of you — which he’d never been able to do given his life being spent entirely in an institution with no privacy

he takes full advantage of your naïveté to tease and manipulate you, especially after you realise who he is

he just signs that he won’t hurt you if you let him stay with you and don’t tell anyone he’s there

and you oblige

and he doesn’t hurt you

the only real change is having to deal with him shamelessly staring at you all of the time, but after you get together you don’t really mind so it’s not really that big of a deal

thomas hewitt

everything about you seems perfectly engineered to turn this poor man into a flustered, red-in-the-face, 404-ing mess

you’re not exactly what his mother had raised him to look for in a woman but that made you somehow more attractive? like a forbidden fruit in a sense

your high high heels that you constantly tripped over weren’t exactly made for life in their rural town but your confidence in them made him reluctant to have you change

those teeny-tiny shorts and skirts left nothing to the imagination when it came to those smooth, long legs and those brightly coloured thongs you wore and caused him a lot of trouble whenever he caught a glimpse of you and ended up dropping his tools

your thin white shirts that hoyt always managed to get wet somehow were incredibly form fitting and gave him the perfect view of your chest

but whilst your body and sexuality haunted his mind and left him wanting and guilty when he’d reach between his legs for relief at the end of the day — it was your demeanour that captured his heart and endeared him to you

your naïveté kept you up and out of the way of the family’s dirtier dealings and meant they didn’t have to hide anything too hard as you believed whatever they promised to you

he felt bad for lying but he also knew it was a necessary evil

and your clumsy nature meant that any guests felt more at ease around you, joking around and letting their guard down to flirt with you which made his job a whole lot easier

so, needless to say, you were definitely a good investment for the family even if you kept unintentionally torturing poor thomas with your displays of sexuality and femininity throughout the house

vincent sinclair

you immediately caught vincent’s eye when you entered ambrose because of how different you were from your companions

your clothes were more revealing and feminine: all light colours, cropped edges, frills, pastels and the whole nine yards

definitely a far cry from the muted neutrals and heavy jumpers that he usually saw

more artistically inspiring, barbie like even

it made you attractive, certainly, but it also made him want to preserve you as an art piece even more — he wanted to capture your beauty permanently

but then your personality endeared you to him

you were immediately kind and trusting towards his twin, which painted you as a very naïve person but the genuine way you defended him and scolded your friends for interrupting the “funeral” caught his heart

hell, even bo seemed taken a back by your demeanour (before trying to look down your shirt, of course)

and then there was the clumsiness that gave him the perfect view of each and every angle of your body that those short, tight clothes did little to hide as you stumbled and tripped over your heels in the museum

even gentlemen have their limits and, from what he justified as artistic curiosity, he indulged himself in plenty of looks

you even made him chuckle a few times when you apologised to the figures you fell onto

all of it, to him, made you seem so much better than your companions — someone worth saving and keeping as a living art piece in ambrose

it wouldn’t be hard to convince his brothers, they were always talking about needing some company

and, beside, you didn’t strike him as the sort to be hard to lie to

so if you believed your friends abandoned you, maybe you’d be happy to stay with them — and, maybe, you’d never have to learn about the truth of ambrose and it’s wax museum

and he’d get to ogle you all he liked from behind the safety of his mask (only as an artist, of course! he’d never sexualise you… or at least he tries to claim as much to himself)

[saeun]

fuck my life; hold me tight. model!gojo satoru ⭒ fem-reader.

satoru came back after his two-week long trip for his modeling gigs. he's the same, but who's this ‘saori’ lady with a thorny stick up her ass? wc : 6.2k · usage of y/n.

+ love ‘su: thou shall not lie, thou shall not cheat! 😝 i left this without the small font bc it's lowkey a lot tbh

one › who's this?

undoubtedly, today’s the most important. you’ve been impatiently crossing off the days on the calendar until satoru returns. familiar with your excitement, he called you prior to hold you back from coming to the airport. it was strange, but nevertheless you thought less of it.

with your day now free, you spent it preparing for satoru. his favorite dishes were made, charcuterie board prepared, and the series you both watched together can be resumed. every time the thought of seeing satoru with your eyes again comes about, you get goosebumps. it’s almost sickening how he’s plagued your mind, becoming the balance-shifting object for your moods.

your eyes shift to the clock, realizing that there’s only an hour until he walks through the door. 4:00 p.m it reads, you’ve yet to shower — let alone choose an outfit. some may say your actions are too much, but nothing is ever “too much” when it comes to satoru. have you lost your marbles? not all, but perhaps you’ve become slightly boy crazy (with justifying reasons!)

4:58 p.m: you’re anxiously switching between apps on your phone, trying your best to not stare at the clock on the top of the screen. it’s insanely tempting, but you won’t give in. there’s no better distraction than window shopping on websites for items you’ll never set free with your credit card.

the door slams open, and soon a cheerful voice follows. they both jerk you out of your trance, leaving you with the pair of a palpitating heart and widened eyes.

“BABY!” a disheveled satoru shouts, recklessly dropping his luggage at the front of the door.

he walk-runs past the furniture, dodging the table corners until he’s nearing the sofa you’re situated on.

“sa-SATORU?!” you’re shocked even though you expected his arrival.

you unconsciously stood up, abandoning your phone as you moved to him. satoru mirrors you, being the first of the two to engulf you into a heartfelt hug. he squeezes you hard, burying his head into the junction between your neck and shoulder. his hand cups the back of your head, pressing softly into your hair.

“i missed you,” he whispers, letting out a shaky breath. “it took an entire week to sleep properly without you.”

“you’re addicted,” you joked, lifting a hand to ruffle his already-ruffled hair.

“not funny.”

“okay, okay, sorry. i missed you too.” you pull away from satoru, smiling at his pouting expression.

your hands move to his shoulders, gripping his puffed jacket to pull them down. he helps you by moving his arms out of it. once it’s off, he rolls his shoulders back, rolling his neck around to stretch his muscles. he’s been cooped up in a sitting position for twelve hours; the last thing he needs are stiff muscles and a sore body.

content with the new, relaxed feeling, satoru looks around. everything’s the same, as expected. nothing changed other than the charcuterie board on the coffee table and the dishes on the dining table. immediately, he recognizes the food. how could he not? it’s the food he labeled as his favorite even when it wasn’t.

in multiple attempts to please your mother on the first meeting, he went along with her words.

the soap opera she’s caught up in? oh, he’s been watching it too!

short videos she found on social media that are painfully unfunny? actually, it’s hilarious!

the lunch she cooked? it’s now something he’s been craving for weeks.

the salad? to you, he hates greens since they’re ‘flavorless’. to your mother? golly! put more on his plate!

he spent the week at your parents’ gaslighting himself until it became the truth. he became a new man after the meeting. lemon water was his new go-to (influenced by your mother) and card games are his forte (influenced by your father).

ever since then the main dish your mother cooked up became his true favorite. maybe it’s because of the warmth that came with it, or maybe it’s because he’s still gaslighting himself. nonetheless, he’ll always eat it.

“did you make all this yourself?” he questions, stealing a bite before you could’ve plated his food.

“hands off,” you slapped his hand, “i didn’t, though. i asked my mother.”

“ah, my mother-in-law. i miss your parents, too. we should visit,” he suggests, rubbing his hand that you heartlessly slapped.

“mhm, soon,” you agreed, sliding his plate to him. “let’s sit and eat.”

──

the plates are cleared, the charcuterie board’s three-quarters finished, and you’re on the final episode of season one of the show. satoru’s head is on your lap, busying his hands by poking at your thigh’s skin. your hand’s following suit, busying itself by playing with his hair strands.

the show was long forgotten, being demoted to background noise the moment you asked satoru to tell you all about the trip. you’ve heard the details beforehand during your calls, but it’s different to hear it face-to-face.

you intently listened as he talked, giving him mhms and yeahs to let him know you’re listening.

“oh, and i met a new co-worker? friend? i dunno but we’re acquainted now,” he speaks, looking up to you.

“really? i’m glad. is he a model too?”

“yeah, but it’s a she.”

you paused for a second. a she? that’s new. you’re not the type to anger yourself over your boyfriend befriending the opposite gender, but you’d still like to see her.

“i’d like to meet her,” you said, looking down at him with a soft smile.

“are you free in two days? i have a meeting that day. she’ll probably be there — no chances though, i never asked about her schedule...” his voice trails off as he ponders, trying to remember if she mentioned anything about being in a meeting after the trip.

“of course i’m free. i took a sick leave on purpose for this week.”

satoru laughs at the new information. you took a sick leave just for him? at your position of head assistant? he’ll never find someone who loves him like you do.

— two days after : the meeting.

you’re walking hand-in-hand with satoru through the hallway. you’re a little — no, incredibly nervous. it’s your first time officially meeting satoru’s business buddies. they know of you, you know of them, but that’s about it.

you dressed yourself up professionally, trying to match the classy rich vibes. it’s times like these you appreciate satoru’s over-the-top, multiple-zeros gifts. you’ll have to remember to give him special thanks for this.

“okay, we’re here,” he says, knocking you out of the nervousness.

“if you start feeling uncomfortable, squeeze my hand, okay? i’ll take you out of there,” reassuring you, he gifts you a peck on your forehead, topping it off with his genuine smile that’s only for you.

his hand turns the door knob, walking in with his model smile as he greets the members. you’re tailing behind him, trying to hide. the sudden energy shift didn’t match yours, so your instinct to hide behind satoru kicked in. unluckily for you, your boyfriend was set to formally introduce you. he uses a hand to hold your wrist, pulling you to the side of him.

“you brought a plus one with you i see,” a guy notes the obvious, smiling at your shyness. he already has an idea of who you are.

his words catch the attention of others. within seconds every pair of eyes landed on you. unfamiliar with the amount of attention, you squeezed satoru’s hand, placing a fake smile to mask your uncomfort.

“nuh uh, get your own. that’s too much staring,” satoru complains, squeezing back your hand. he steps in front of you, leading you both to two reserved seats at the table.

“i’m assuming that lady must be the one you talked everyone’s ears off about,” a lady suggests this time, stretching out her arm to you as she’s on the opposite side, but directly in front of you.

you stretched your arm out to her, accepting her handshake.

“i’m (y/n), pleasure to meet you.”

“it’s a pleasure to meet you too. call me mia,” she introduces herself, ignoring the heated glare of a man who doesn’t like sharing.

similarly, you’re ignoring the gut feeling of someone glaring through your soul. the situation feels similar to your teacher staring at you during an exam when you secretly have cheating materials with you.

the meeting continues on. you were introduced to everyone and met with questions. some complained about satoru to you, and others asked how you’re able to tolerate him. of course, satoru took offense. he flipped them off with the finger that has your matching rings on.

an hour later, you’re in the building’s cafeteria with satoru. it was okay; the atmosphere was friendly — minus that one person who glared at you. you don’t know who they are, nor what they look like as you avoided that corner. your social battery is drained, and you’re hungry for a light snack.

“baby, can you order for us? i gotta let it go. real bad,” satoru says, balling his fingers into a fist to hold back the feeling.

“uh, sure, but what do you mean let it go?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“piss, baby. piss. love you, bye!”

with that, satoru speeds off, almost colliding with another worker in the process.

gathering your order, you looked around for an unoccupied table to sit at. unfortunately, they’re all unoccupied. it’s a little awkward, but you’re left with no other option than to ask someone if satoru has his own office.

“ah, mia!” you called out, spotting her outside the smoking room.

“(y/n)! need anything before i smoke?” she smiles, pointing at the door.

“um, do you know if satoru has his own office?” contrary to your nervousness, your voice came out perfectly.

“take the elevator and press number ten. turn left and stop until you’re at the third room; that’s his office.”

“thanks much, mia!” you gave her a bright smile, turning around to find your new destination.

“no problem, (y/n),” she waves you off, entering the smoking room.

you followed mia’s directions, taking the elevator to floor ten and entering the third room on the left. it’s no doubt that the office is satoru’s. the pineapple-framed mirror confirmed it all. that mirror is the same mirror satoru try to convince you that it’s “in style”.

settling down in his office, you can finally be at rest. placing the food his desk, you plopped yourself down on his chair.

‘it’s comfortable, but surely it doesn’t take that long to pee,’ you think, suspecting that satoru may have gotten caught up in a conversation.

the door clicks, opening to reveal someone. your mind thought of satoru, but it was indeed not. it wasn’t even the right gender. a beautiful girl entered; her aura was a cool, mysterious, “i’m better than you” feel. confusion poured down on you. who is she and why is she here?

you don’t strike a conversation. instead, you simply watch her walk into the office until she’s in front of the desk.

“do you need some—”

“you must be gojo satoru’s bitch.”

“excuse me?” not only were you cut off, you were called a bitch. clearly, she’s not on friendly terms, and who does she think she is?

she looks down at you, placing a taunting smile on her lips. you don’t care since you’re the one on his chair, but who is she calling a bitch?!

“compared to satoru, you’re… low, to put it kindly!”

“okay, but who asked you that?” you questioned her, rolling your eyes.

if you were in a fantasy novel, she’d be the main villainess who’s engaged to the male lead for political reasons. you’re the female lead who’ll become victim to the villainess’ antics as the male lead, satoru, fell for you.

flustered at your sentence, she scoffs. compared to the shy persona you displayed at the meeting, you’re all bitchy now.

“i don’t need someone to ask me something in order to speak my mind.”

“oh my god. i didn’t ask you that, nor do i want your input.” you rolled your eyes, taking a sip of your drink.

“i don’t like you. you’re not good enough for satoru,” she voices her (unwanted) opinions, scanning you up and down.

“it’s gojo to you, missy. who’s the girlfriend here?” you noted her mistakes while making your position obvious.

she rolls her eyes, offended at being called ‘missy.’

“and it’s saori, not missy. get it right.”

“why must you disturb my tranquility with your nonsense ? please exit, missy.”

“i said it’s—”

“saori? why are you here?” satoru enters, removing his coat in the process.

“that’s what i asked her,” you said, looking at her up and down with a raised eyebrow.

“i wanted to meet your girl-friend, satoru!” suddenly her tone changed. the space she put between the word girlfriend didn’t go unnoticed by you either.

this is ridiculous.

he slowly nods, thinking that the deliberate pause between girlfriend might’ve been his imagination.

“oh, i was gonna introduce you guys. you beat me to it,” he pouts, walking over next to you to give you another kiss.

you smiled at satoru but smirked at saori.

irritated, she huffs, “i’ve seen enough, call me when you’re free from that, satoru.”

both of you watch her walk out in silence. satoru’s now confused.

“what’s that about?” he asks, scratching his head.

“is she the friend you talked about?” you answered his question with your question.

“yeah, but i don’t know why she has such an attitude all of a sudden. did her boyfriend argue with her?”

“pfft— she has a boyfriend?” you scoffed, learning that she’s not only the bitch, but potentially unloyal. why else would she bother you, who’s satoru’s girlfriend, if it wasn’t because she likes him?

he nods, shrugging off the curiosity to know what’s with her shift in behavior.

“whatever, let’s eat, baby.”

──

it’s way past your bedtime, and you’ve just arrived home. the day was eventful, minus the missy encounter, but nonetheless you had fun.

although you’re glad to be acquainted with satoru’s peers, you couldn’t shake off the suspicion that sao-whatever-her-name-is has been making advances to satoru while your presence was absent.

you can tell that satoru holds no affection to her, but you’re still worried. satoru’s loyal, yes, but he’s an oblivious idiot. if he nor you isn’t the one flirting, he wouldn’t notice anything. that’s why her behavior change whenever he’s around is seen as “friendly” and not “i want you so bad” to him.

you sighed, shaking your head to rid it of her. what’s important is that satoru isn’t interested in her. you can sleep with that comforting image in mind.

now that satoru’s home, you’ve been attached to each other like the north and south pole of two magnets. inseparable. it’s been like this for a week, but something changed.

two › is it just you or…?

the sao-still-don’t-remember-her-name missy has been ringing satoru’s phone down whether it’s by messages, voice messages, or calls. at this point, it’s annoying. satoru himself was one call away from blocking her, but he couldn’t.

aside from satoru himself, she’s the other key member in the new project. if he suddenly draws a line between them it can become what kills the project. thankfully, the conversations have been limited to work-related topics… or so you believe.

you’re on the sofa, indulging in a new show as you peeled an apple. the show’s plot became so intense that your eyes are glued to the television instead of the apple.

satoru jugs down the stairs, grabbing his car keys and running over behind you. he bends over to place a kiss on your cheek, notifying you that he’ll be meeting up with saori. not paying any mind to him, you bid him goodbye without thinking.

it’s only after he exits the door you register what he said. ‘meeting up with saori? that bitch? ew,’ you shuddered at the thought of her. she’s not scary, definitely not ugly, but sure as hell is a bitch. at least you remember her name now.

──

after that day, satoru’s free time has been occupied with her. you’re now sure it’s not “just work” that’s been going on. you trust satoru, but you don’t trust her.

there’s no reason for someone to meet up with their co-worker every day for work. work is never that interesting. it’s not like they’re in charge of the project either; the project is within the authority of mia and some other guy.

everything about the situation at hand has been bothering you. was she attached to satoru like this during the trip? were they always within arms length of each other? not even you were that clingy to satoru.

the idea to raise alarm bells to satoru crossed you, but the potential argument that may follow is what has you hesitating. you don’t want to suspect satoru’s friend, but her behavior needs to be discussed.

you waited until satoru’s home, showered, and comfortable in bed to bring forth the question. your palms are sweating, but it needs to be done.

“say satoru, can i ask you something?” you hesitated, looking at him.

“yeah, why not?” he replies, eyes stuck on his phone.

“what do you think of that girl?”

“who’s that— do you mean saori?” he laughs, “she’s cool, if i were to be honest. she’s fun to hang around with.”

“has it ever crossed your mind that she likes you?” you cold sweat, worried that he’ll take offense.

“who wouldn’t like me? i’m sexy,” he jokes, winking at you.

you playfully slap his chest. “i’m being serious here!”

“i don’t think she does— or at least i hope she doesn’t. i don’t want to be her boyfriend’s archenemy,” satoru truthfully responds, feeling his pores raise at the thought of a taken man’s enemy.

if you were to like another man satoru would honestly write a will and erase himself from history. so, it’s only natural that he hopes saori doesn’t become her boyfriend’s pain.

you hum, satisfied with his answer. it’s clear as day now. satoru doesn’t view her in any romantic way, but you know she has a thing or two for him.

not wanting to push your luck, you end it there. pulling satoru’s phone away to throw your body on his.

three › wicked witch of the west.

it’s almost as if the conversation with satoru triggered a chain reaction. for whatever the reason may be, you’ve now seen this woman more than your own parents. she invites herself over almost every day.

every time you open the door it’s her snobby face. it sickens you. you ordered a package recently and whenever someone knocks on the door, you think it’s the delivery guy, but nope! it’s the wicked witch of the west!

today it happened again. someone knocked, you opened, missy appears, satoru unwillingly follows her for the sake of the project, you’re left with murderous intent.

it’s time you talk about this with someone. that’s right, you’ve kept your worries inside you but this is just too much! there’s no reason for a taken lady to follow another man like she’s his shadow — far less for a taken man!

frustrated, you phoned your friend.

“hey, utahime.”

“(y/n), my baby! how are you?”

“i’m okay-ish, how about you?”

“i’m good, but what’s up?”

“well… can i come over? i’ll tell you there. i just need to get out.”

“of course you can! you were always here before that thing of a man took you over.”

“all right, i’ll be there in ten!”

──

utahime’s home always brought you comfort; it’s where you go when you needed to escape. due to her dislike for people outside her circle, not everyone knows of her address— especially not satoru.

she engulfed you in a hug the moment she opened the door. you can’t hide anything from utahime, she knew you were out of it from your face.

“i’ll put ramen on the stove, go make yourself comfortable,” she ordered, closing the door behind you.

you followed her words, throwing yourself face first on her sofa. you loudly groaned, annoyed at the idea of saori getting all touchy-touchy with your satoru.

“let’s talk about it,” utahime speaks, pausing the television before she sits on the floor next to you.

you lift your head to look at her, open your mouth, and close it back. ‘let’s not question it,’ you think, knowing that utahime prefers the floor at home ever since you knew her.

“so… there’s this girl named saori—”

“i knew i should’ve ran over satoru yesterday.”

“and then— wait— HUH???” you sputtered, shocked at utahime’s words.

“i saw him crossing the street by himself yesterday. it took a lot of convincing to not floor the gas pedal,” she sighed, knowing she missed the jackpot. “anyway, continue.”

your mouth hangs open for a few more seconds before you regain yourself.

“right… anyway. she’s satoru’s new co-worker and i don’t like her. on our first meeting she called me ‘satoru’s bitch’ and after that she’s been occupying his free time every-fucking-day. she has a BOYFRIEND! like damn bitch! move away from my boyfriend,” you dumped the information on utahime, shoving your head back into the cushion.

“my baby, just said the word,” utahime faces you, moving her hand to pat your back.

“for what?” your voice comes out muffled.

“to put a bounty on their heads.”

a groan leaves you. there’s no hope.

“i’m kidding, i’m kidding. we can devise a plan, however.”

your head perks up. your attention has been successfully gained. utahime stands up, a bright smile adorns her face. you have a major feeling that something mischievous is going to play out real, real soon. utahime never smiles so brightly unless she’s plotting something despicable.

you squint your eyes at her, watching her back as she walks to the kitchen.

“‘hime…”

“don’t worry; just trust me.”

6:43 p.m: you’re now being a sack of potatoes on utahime’s bed. the day flew by and you haven’t heard from satoru ever since he left. no way it won’t leave a sour taste in your mouth, but you couldn’t find the energy to care at this moment.

you're preoccupied on utahime’s laptop, carefully choosing the perfect inner-walls design for the house game you stumbled upon. interior design might just be your new job.

deep into the game, your phone rings. you groan in annoyance, picking your phone up to see who decided it’ll be a good time to bother you.

satoru is calling you.

clicking your tongue, you slid on the green button.

“satoru, what’s up?”

“babe, are you home?”

“i’m not, why?”

“whyyyyy? i brought food for you.”

“i’ll have it when i’m home. sorry i’m not there right now, satoru.”

“oh, i almost forgot. saori’s here too.”

“ew— i mean, okay. don’t let her near my stuff nor our room.”

“yeah, bye baby. i love you.”

“i love you too.”

“that’s so disgusting. get out of my house,” utahime voices her feelings, screwing her face up at the sight of you being lovey-dovey with satoru.

you laughed at her, returning your attention to the game. utahime walks to her closet, choosing an outfit for the night. she’s fresh out of the shower, wet hair wrapped up in a towel. you can hear her grumbling something along the lines of “i hate couples” as she threw clothes on the floor to look for “that one black pajama shorts.”

once successful, utahime threw herself onto the bed. she took over your phone, going into your messages for her chat to send herself photos you’ve long forgotten to send. never will she ever ask you for photos after the hangout.

“by the way,” she says, “what did that man call for?”

you sigh, looking at her with a blank expression, “saori’s gonna be there.”

“does she even have her own life? that saowhore or whatever you said her name is.” utahime rolls her eyes, her mood immediately soured.

shrugging, you click your tongue, “it is what it is. this game is more important.”

──

it took not one, not two, not three, but five attempts to convince utahime to let you go home. she was completely against the idea of letting you drive home alone when it’s 10 p.m.

you would’ve given in if it wasn’t for the dreadful feeling that you need to be home. you basically sped through the roads, and most definitely ran a red light accidentally. nevertheless, you arrived safely.

suddenly, your heartbeat races. a heat creeps up the back of your head; you can feel a headache in the making. something’s telling you that you’ll need to confront a certain someone.

opening the door as quietly as you can, you stepped in, removing your shoes and tiptoeing inside.

maybe you should’ve let utahime go through with her plans.

the sight before you disgusts you as much as satoru disgusts utahime. why, just why, is this woman still here? is she crazy? why are her legs on satoru, and why is he allowing it?

“goodness, if i didn’t know better i’d ask you if you’re homeless,” you sarcastically spoke, taking the remote to turn the television off.

“get,” you took hold of one of her legs, shoving it off satoru. “off my fucking boyfriend.”

satoru watches, shocked at the scene. his eyes are unfocused; it’s evident that he zoned out a long time ago.

saori scoffs, moving her leg back on satoru’s lap. “why should i?”

you tilt your head, smiling angelically. the smile lasted milliseconds before it dropped. you’ve had quite enough and she’ll be subjected to your anger.

grabbing her arm, you roughly dragged her off the sofa. saori wasn’t one to accept such treatment. she retaliated, shuffling her arm around until she’s off your grip.

“are you fucking crazy?!” saori yelled, eyes wide with heavy breaths.

“not quite!” you pointed towards the door. “get out before i drag you myself.”

satoru’s silent. afraid of angering you, he stays put and watches from a distance.

“fuck off,” saori speaks, “satoru, text me when you’re off your dog collar.”

your anger reached its peak. grabbing the closest thing, which happened to be a mug, you threw it in her direction, aiming to miss her but hit close enough to her.

“ARE YOU INSANE!?” saori’s stumbles to the side, clenching her jaw, looking down at the broken pieces of the ceramic mug.

the scene alarms satoru, he decides to do something. standing up, he reaches for your wrist, pulling you to him.

“i think it’s time you leave, saori. i didn’t even know you were still here,” satoru’s voice is calm, but filled with authority. his words hold truth to them, he zoned out a while ago, unaware that saori’s still around.

clicking her tongue, her eyes twitch. she couldn’t muster up anything to say. being left with no choice but to listen to satoru, she saw herself out.

the quietness settles in. you were right about the headache, it’s definitely coming in.

“baby—”

“save it,” you stopped him, “but who the fuck is she to think i have you on a dog collar? i’ll put her on a collar.”

guilt settles in satoru, he shouldn’t have brought her in.

“i don’t why she said that. you don’t have me ‘on a dog collar’ i swear,” he rambles, placing a hand on his chest.

your gaze settled on satoru. you’re tired, a headache is there, and you probably went overboard. you’re not in the mood to hear him.

“satoru, i trust you. but i don’t trust her.”

“i’ll make her apologize.”

“ew, no.” you shivered at the thought of her apologizing. “i don’t want you near her anymore. her intentions are too fucking obvious.”

satoru physically hesitates. swallowing a gulp, his words come out quietly, “i can’t ignore her just like that..”

just as you were about to walk away, your head whipped to satoru as if you were slapped in that direction.

“what?”

“the project’s still ongoing, baby. i can’t ignore her just because you want me too.”

“fucking hell. kiss my ass, satoru. kiss her ass too while you’re at it,” you spat, flipping him off as you walked away.

if he can’t ignore her “just because you said so” then he can be ignored by you. maybe he did said something to make her think he’s on a dog collar.

you hear satoru calling for you, but you gave him no attention. you’ll deal with it tomorrow.

four › satoru’s new piercing idea: a bullet through his head.

satoru fucked up. he knows he fucked up. he should’ve said that after you calmed down. it couldn’t have gotten worse than this. the night flew by with you facing your back to him, the morning came with you acting as if he’s invisible.

sure, he fucked up, but at least reply to his good morning?!

he doesn’t know what to do. this is the first time you were angered to this point. usually, he’d be the one to better your mood, but he’s apart of the reason you’re as mad as you are.

your behavior went on for three days. far longer than satoru had anticipated. he’s given you your space, but now he can’t focus on his job.

his co-workers knew something was off with satoru. he’s not his usual self. they knew something happened the moment he declined a free meal. secretly, they gathered around, holding a confidential meeting to discuss satoru’s behavior.

everyone gave their opinions until an agreement was made: a couple’s argument had occurred.

evidence to support? satoru refrained from mentioning you, gave awkward answers when someone asked about you, and sulked when he looked at his lockscreen which was you.

saori, however, advanced her advancements to satoru. today was another day of her throwing her cleavage at him.

the photoshoot theme included two persons, but they weren’t meant to touch. they needed to act like enemies, but saori’s touching satoru as if he’s an all-you-can-touch event.

her hands slid down his chest, stopping at his abs. satoru doesn’t react— his eyes are empty, it’s clear that he wants the photoshoot to be over.

mia observed the two ever since the business trip, and she came to the conclusion that saori’s craving a place she was never meant to have.

“well aren’t you a little handsy, miss saori,” mia calls out, stopping the cameraman. “had i not known your boyfriend, i would've thought you were single.”

“who asked?” saori gives an attitude, but she moves her hand from satoru. the mention of her boyfriend bothered her.

the staff goes silent. a tension forms in the atmosphere. the calm before the storm, as they call it.

mia walks towards the two, placing a hand on saori’s shoulder when she nears her.

squeezing her shoulder, she leans down to saori’s level, “who’s the boss here? you’re chatty for a little girl who wants others’ belongings.” mia taunts, her voice cold.

saori gulps, slapping mia’s hand off her.

the action doesn’t bother mia in the slightest. instead, she leans to saori’s ears, whispering the unfortunate truth to her, “satoru will never want you, saori. remember that.”

straightening her posture, mia turns around to walk back to her designated position.

“back to work, everyone!”

with her order, everyone returns back to their previous doings. the tension is still heavy, and satoru’s still holds his empty gaze.

──

a thirty-minute break was called. at this moment, to each their own. the staff scrambled around, but satoru stayed put.

“saori,” his voice drags, “let’s talk alone.”

her expression brightens, feeling the butterflies tingle in her stomach. but little does she know, satoru’s about to act out of the character she knows him to be.

“s-sure! let’s do it in your dressing room,” she suggests, pulling satoru there.

once they’re in, she locks the door behind them. satoru sighs at the sight, but he doesn’t say anything about it. there’s something else he came here for.

“saori, do you like me? romantically?” he asks, leaning on the wall with crossed arms.

“i do,” she boldly confirms.

“then stop. you’re getting in between my relationship with (y/n),” he glares at saori, deciding it’s time to draw the line.

“ha, you’re still on that leash i see,” she scoffs, walking towards satoru until they’re face-to-face. “i’m better, satoru. you should choose me.”

satoru unfolds his arms, using one to push her away.

“saori, i’ve thought of you as nothing but a co-worker, a friend. you cannot be (y/n). so please, stop.”

clenching her jaw, saori tugs at satoru’s shirt’s collar, “i don’t give a flying fuck! you should be mine.”

satoru feels disgusted, a chain of chills cover his body. has saori always been like this?

“you have a boyfriend, for fuck’s sake!” he slaps her hand away, moving towards the door.

before he unlocks the door, he stops, turning around to clarify something before he forgets to, “oh, and if anything, the truth is that i’m the one who placed a dog collar on myself. so watch your mouth.”

with that, he leaves her alone, walking to where mia’s positioned.

“mia,” he calls for her.

mia turns to him, eyes wide for a second before she returns to her usual expression.

“need something, lovesick boy?” she teases, raising her eyebrows at him.

“if saori isn’t withdrawn from this project, then i’ll withdraw myself,” he threatens, running a hand through his hair exposing his forehead.

‘i’m not sure if this is unexpected or expected,’ mia thinks, not surprised at satoru’s request. it was only a matter of time.

“i’ll withdraw her. she pissed me off, too,” giving satoru her answer she pauses, and then continues, “but you really need to learn how to tell apart platonic actions from romantic.”

satoru cringes at her words, “ugh, leave me alone. i’m leaving.”

“you’ll be penalized for leaving during working hours!”

“blah blah blah.”

──

satoru’s destination was obvious. it’s your shared home. he would make his business to break the ice first.

messily unlocking the door, he kicks his shoes off, immediately looking for you. you’re not on the sofa, not in the bathroom, not in the kitchen, where the fuck are you?!

checking off your usual spots, he’s left with one: the bedroom.

quietly opening the door, he peeks in, observing the room for you. once he found you, he tiptoed in.

your back was turned to the door. whether you were sleeping or not was the least of his problems. he’ll wake you up if he has to.

“baby,” he carefully speaks, sitting on the edge of the bed with a hand on your blanketed figure.

you don’t answer him, but you do turn around to face him.

“i talked to saori. we won’t be in contact any time soon.”

“oh wow,” you said.

he clears his throat at your sarcasm, “ahem— anyway, i told her off, and asked for her to be removed from the project.”

“what made this sudden change? i thought you were glued to her.”

“she was glued to me!” he clarifies.

“tomato, tomahto. potato, potahto.”

ignoring your snarky remarks, he continues, “i told her about the ‘dog collar’ comment. i even told her to watch her mouth. i’ll cut contact with her on my phone, too.”

“so she’s gone? completely?” you questioned, removing a hand from under the blanket.

“yeah, i received a divine revelation and came to my senses. really, i thought she saw me as platonic as i saw her. i swear!” he confirms his innocence, staring at you with sadden eyes.

“you’re still a bitch,” you said, “i almost allowed utahime to go through with her bounty plan.”

sitting up, you took one of satoru’s fingers in your hand, “i’m glad you did that, but i’m still mad. you made me want to tell you to go fuck her and done with it.”

satoru’s mouth hangs open at the newly gained information.

“i didn’t, as you can see. i still love you so such words would never be spoken.”

“‘still’ she said.”

“don’t push it.”

a laugh escapes him. not listening to your warning, he pulls you into a hug. this time, it was a hug of desperation and relief. his head’s buried in your neck, breathing in the body mist you always wear at home.

“i’m sorry,” he apologizes.

“dear god, fuck that bitch i hope she dies,” you comforted satoru, returning his hug and patting his back.

do you have an issue with satoru? no, but he did set you off when he refused to cut contact with her when you asked.

it took him quite some days to see the vision, and you’re glad he did.

hey guys 😣 if anyone’s confused about this part:

“what made this sudden change? i thought you were glued to her.”

“she was glued to me!” he clarifies.

“tomato, tomahto. potato, potahto.”

it simply means “what’s the difference?”

when (y/n) said she thought satoru was glued to saori, satoru responded with “she’s glued to me!”

(y/n) says “tomato, tomahto. potato, potahto.” because it doesn’t matter how you pronounce it since it’s the same word. there’s no difference.

satoru was glued to saori and vice versa so what’s the difference fr

hope this helped 😜

[thatbitchery]

Unlearn the dumb idea that inflicted pain justifies your reaction to it. It doesn't. Ladies elite women make it because we have a level of stoicism that borders on sociopathic apathy, exhibit A: we don't react to triggers we mimosa, sleep, see if it's worth it then logically make decisions. The idea that when someone does you dirty you have the right to react based on emotions so you're angry mad throwing names & hands sending texts talking sheet & other loser girl things is dumb dumb. You're not justified to react. 'They did me wrong' . So? Sit down, watch Netflix, wait for the emotions to pass then use the head God so generously gave you + that pretty face bonus.

When you react to people doing you wrong you give them the permission to bypass their actions & focus on your reaction so if your bf cheats on you & you start screaming sending 1b texts making titktoks he can bypass his cheating & focus on you're immature you're abusive why did you hit me you're mentally unstable you throw things around bla bla & will never face what he did. When we say be non reactive we aren't asking you to be a stone we are asking you to be smart. Do you want to get manipulated? Abused? Sit down get a manicure & go for brunch. Run to your room scream cry anhiliate your pillow but when they're watching its Elsa Lite, froooozen ice queen don't let them in don't let them see, ever.

One tactic m3n use in divorce court is to get the lady so triggered she loses her cool then it's look at her could you live with that? I'm taking my child this is an abusive woman & men don't leave relationships they just trigger you into irrational behavior and use that as an excuse & crying is worse what did we say about public vulnerability? Go cry to your bestie and God in your house out here tears are a sign to bully you. When you're not reactive you throw THEM out of balance and you hold the cards, once you go 'right to my opinion I'm the victim' we'll find you a grave bc that's called social suicideeee.

Two friends. Real life story here, ladies. Ah high-school back in the good old days.

We call them Allie and Sara. High school circles were tight so you're friends with someone you're also friends with their bfs, right? Alice & Sara both got cheated on (by m3n looking like area 9 failed experiment Shrek cosplayers but that's not thepoint). The bfs know that they were discovered. Allie, Allie is that girl. Drama girl. Find him in cafeteria & make a scene girl. How could you cheat on me you suck your pp is short anyway bla bla watch me devalue myself. Allie feels good in the moment, her bf leaves and tell his friends of course i cheated that girl is crazy. Would you date someone like her? So immature. Women are so ovarical I can't handle it. Evening the story is- she was abusive. She hit him & threw words in public imagine in private? He's been protecting her in silence, you know women can be abusive too.

Sara, Sara my love. Sara sits next to her Shrek Lite boy and says hey so that girl you kissed, Jane was it? She's pretty. You have taste. End of story. After lunch her Human experiment failure boy says let's talk she says sure abd listens with 'mhm' and nods. She meant nothing babe she seduced me I'm an adolescent what can I do bla bla. She nods says okay and goes to class. Days goes as usual. Evening we get dinner , Weekend we do research for our papers & talk college. Is she talking to him? Yes. Painfully polite, painfully. No emojis no nothing just shallow dry polite texts. Let's talk about this babe- is left on blue ticks. Monday morning her factory reject lookalike is losing his mind, she's being painfully polite, in a shallow way, so he resorts to triggering. It's because you're like this you are like a man and I'm straight I need a woman bla bla. She says OK then turns to the next person & did you hear about the trip to the beach? Of course I'm going. Boy realizes that's not working & resorts to Allie behavior- throw a tantrum in public make yourself the victim why won't you give me the pleasure of being the one to push you to your edge? Sara says babe pull yourself together you're embarrassing your family. Do you need your anxiety meds? My therapist is good she can treat hysteria are you okay? No this isn't like you, this is hysteria babe do you need psychological help? No this isn't normal , hey do you guys think it's normal to do this? I'm calling your mom babe we are getting you a mental check hold up-

Heres a little secret. In private? In our dorms? Sara was BAWLING her eyes out. Chocolates & Styrofoam cups. We are talking 3am on the bathroom floor. In public?

Guess who won.

Unlearn the idea that you're entitled to reacting to others actions to you, you're not. Learn to hold your tongue and tears and smile and Elsa don't let then in don't let them see then call mom and spend the rest of the week in her arms crying. The amount of women I've seen triggered out of their jobs, marriages, houses, parenting &c when they were 10000% the victim from lack of emotional intelligence is unforgivable.

Dont, be dumb. Don't let yourself think you have the freedom of expression, you don't. Not in the way you want to. Go write a poem but remember everything you say can and will, in fact, be used against you.

Non reaction is the highest level of power in existence. Mind over body. Logic over emotion.

[httpsleclerc]

a villa in biot

summary: Charles and Gasly!reader are in love with the one thing they can't have - each other.

w/c : 1.6k

c/w : terrible ending? nothing, I dont think there actually is any

Charles wasn't quite sure when he had fallen in love with you - But he knew he shouldn't have. You were like a forbidden fruit for him, dangling in front of him, something he could touch, hold, smell, but never have for himself. It was cruel. It was so cruel that you just so happened to be his best friends younger sister, and his younger brothers best friend. 

You had all grown up together, Charles and Pierre having done karting together for many years, you had been on family vacations together, he had watched you grow from a shy young girl, attached to her brother at the hip, to a confident young woman, who admittedly, was still attached to her brother at the hip. He found it unfair that you had to be Arthur's best friend and not his, maybe that would make his love for you more justifiable - but how could he tell his younger brother that he was truly, madly deeply in love with you? 

To cut a long story short, he couldn't.

He didn't want to hurt you or Arthur, he didn't even know if your feelings were the same as his, and he couldn't face the embarrassment of it all if you didn't. So he had to try and move on. However, as hard as he tried, he couldn't. Everywhere he went, he was looking for you. He dated girls that looked like you, down to a t, but they didn't have your infectious laughter, so he looked for girls who shared your laughter, but they didn't look like you. It was impossible to find you in all of the girls he dated, so he eventually gave up, accepting that he could never have the one girl that he truly wanted, as much as it broke his heart to accept.

As it came time for your annual family vacation with the 3 Leclerc boys, you found yourself newly single, breaking things off with your boyfriend of 3 months due to the fact that he was nothing like how you thought he was - you thought he could fill the Charles shaped hole in your heart. You hated yourself for wanting him, he was your best friends older brother, and your older brothers best friend. As much as you wanted him, you remembered the promise you made to Pierre, that you would never go near any of the people he raced against, especially Charles. 

You sighed as you sat on your suitcase, forcing it shut and having Arthur zip it shut for you, he shook his head as he grabbed your hand and helped you up onto your feet.

"How much did you pack, we're only going for 4 nights?" Arthur asked you with a chuckle, looking at your suitcase and then you as you shrugged with a grin.

"Just because you're a guy and can fit all of your things into your backpack, some of us are actually civilised," You jokingly critiqued your best friend, who feigned offence at your 'mean' comments. "And anyway, I wasn't sure on outfits so I had to take two options for at night, I'm probably gonna be in a bikini for most of the day anyway." You told him, acting as though your explanation was the most common knowledge thing on earth. 

"I'm going to go out on a crazy whim and suggest that you haven't shown Pierre your choice of bikini's, because he was not happy when me and you went to Ibiza when we turned 18 and you were like, half naked," Arthur reminded you, your joint 18th birthday trip to Ibiza had been eventful, with Arthur getting so drunk he forget where your hotel was and you, even drunker, had to try and find him through his Snapchat location.

"You weren't complaining that week, Tutur," He shook his head at your comment and put your suitcase on it's wheels, saying that he would carry it down the stairs for you. You also knew that Charles wasn't complaining about your instagram pictures that week, since he was the first person to like every photoset that you posted.

Charles watched as you leaned against your brother, your face illuminated by the orangey-red glow of the fire burning in front of you, a half glass of the last of the limoncello in your hand, which Pierre took from you, despite your protests.

"It's late and you're already drunk, take it easy," He gently scolded you, since he understood that maybe you were drowning your sorrows following your recent break up. Pierre huffed as he stood up, placing the glass on the table beside him. Soon after, Pierre called it a night for himself, placing a kiss on the top of your head and jokingly telling you that he'd know if you drank the rest of the glass of limoncello - Lorenzo and Arthur followed soon after him, leaving only you and Charles in the living room of the Villa you had rented in Biot. Charles shifted to sit beside you, his heart racing as he realised just how close the two of you now were.

"How's your boyfriend?" Charles asked you, watching as you nervously fiddled with your hands and the ring on your finger, one that Pierre had bought you for your 21st birthday a couple of years ago.

"I broke up with him," You deadpanned to Charles, any semblance of a filter you had disappeared completely when you were drunk. You looked up at him, a flicker of desire burning in your eyes. "He wasn't who I thought he was. How's your girlfriend?" You asked him, noticing the way his eyes flicked away from yours.

"We broke up, same reason as you," He told you. The two of you sat in silence for a minute, you leaning into Charles' embrace as he put his arm around you. "Who did you think your boyfriend was?" Charles asked you, his voice dropping lower than you had ever heard it. You licked your lips, your breath shaky as you looked up at the Monegasque driver.

"I thought he was you, Charles," You admitted quietly, having no time to react before he leant into you, pressing his lips onto yours in a passionate kiss. You leaned into his kiss, your hands snaking up to the back of his head, hands entangling through his brown hair. Then you suddenly sobered up. Oh God. You were kissing your best friends older brother. Your brothers best friend. Oh God. 

Oh fuck. You abruptly pulled away, unable to look at the middle Leclerc sitting in front of you. "I um," You stuttered over your words, the words which you wanted to say but couldn't force out. "I should go to bed, goodnight Charles." You didn't mean to be so abrupt and harsh with him as you stood up, wobbling a little as you made your way into yours and Pierre's shared bedroom, your aforementioned older brother already asleep and hanging out of the single bed in the opposite corner of the bedroom.

You and Charles managed to get through the rest of the vacation without many hiccups, the other 3 boys on the trip putting your strange moods down to your respective recent breakups. Upon yours and Arthurs return to your shared apartment in Italy, you realised that you were lying through your teeth to your best friend, about how you had all but confessed to Charles how much you loved him, and your heat of the moment kiss with him. 

And you almost forgot about what had happened in the villa in Biot.

Then he was at your apartment, his eyes rimmed red as if he had been crying, looking pitiful as he sat on the couch.

"Charles, what are you doing here?" You asked, dropping your bag beside the sofa and sitting beside him, unsure of what to do to try and comfort the older Monegasque. He sniffled as he shook his head, looking up at you as he stood up. "Charles?"

"What?"

"What is going on? Why are you here?" You stood up and faced him, looking up into his eyes as he looked down at you. "Tell me what is going on. Please." There was a tense silence as Charles looked away from you, shaking his head as he pulled back from you.

"I need to know, Y/N," He was almost pleading with you, but you didn't know what to tell him, you didn't know what he wanted from you, what he wanted to know. You shook your head with an exasperated sigh.

"You need to know what, Charles? I don't know what you want from me," You were growing increasingly frustrated. He grabbed your hands, and you locked eyes.

"I need to know. Do you love me?"

You went silent, it was like all the air had been sucked from your lungs, and your brain was no longer processing anything. What did you tell him? Would you be honest and admit your undying love for him? Or would you think of your friendship with Arthur, and your promise to Pierre?

...

...

...

"I love you, Charles."

[essentiallyleaf]

day 20. cockwarming. with. jisoo.

1105 words.

tags.

kinktober ‘23, idol x male reader, cockwarming, angst, i don’t even know anymore, possibly the coldest cockwarming fic to ever exist, so much angst and for what.

notes.

short and a little rushed. sounds just like every day of my life. exhaustedly, leaf.

You plop down on the bed, barely able to take your black dress pants off before the dizziness gets the best of you. Jisoo is there, laying still, facing away from you and towards the cloud-shielded moon outside of the open window, like she always is. You can’t really tell if she’s awake or not, and the alcohol certainly doesn’t help.

This must be what they mean when they talk about magnetic fields. We’re immersed in them all the time, but we can’t see it, something about a wavelength our eyes are not tuned to. It’s like even when it’s past your bedtime (which on a weekend night like tonight is at least three hours after your regular bedtime), the sky completely starless, when you zig-zag through the streets and keeping your balance requires a voluntary effort, when your white shirt has more than one almost fully dried Bordeaux stain on it, you don’t know why or how, but your red needle always points back home, back to her.

You always manage to find your way to your shared bed, well, shared right in this moment, but often, too often one could easily argue, the bed feels hollow and freezing as Jisoo’s in it alone. Maybe that’s why the first thing she does when you lie down on it, is take your strong arm and wrap it around her waist to hold her close and share some of your alcohol-boosted warmth, and keep her own arm over it as if to ask you to never let go, never leave her again. She’s awake. Your natural response is to use your other hand to brush her long, silky black hair and watch it flow through your fingers, but as she feels your breath caress her shoulders, she knows that you can’t promise much more than that.

This shouldn't work. Well, to be fair, it isn’t working. But throwing stuff away, whether it’s dropping old photos in the fireplace, or leaving an entire relationship behind you to possibly never see your special person again, that hurts. It’s not just about the value of it, no, if that was the case, if that thing you’re throwing away still brought value to you, then you wouldn't be getting rid of it, right? It’s about admitting that something went wrong along the road, that things didn’t work out, that a wrong turn was taken, and that maybe, you were the one who took it. So the only thing you can do is turn away, keep going down that road, and if you ever happen to look back in a moment of accidental lucidity, justify your own mistakes.

So Jisoo reaches back and starts rubbing the outer side of your naked thigh, slowly traveling up to your ass as you lay a trail of quick kisses on her shoulder. Once she starts fiddling with the hem of your boxers and pushing her own butt back towards you, you get the message. You take your underwear off and stroke your dick a couple times before her nightgown is hiked up and her cheeks fully envelop your length. Your pecks take a trip up to her neck while both of you start shifting your hips up and down, back and forth against one another’s, a couple of low moans leaving your mouth.

It was your fault, but what if it wasn’t? What if that girl, what was her name even, hadn’t asked you for a lighter? What if she hadn’t looked at you all night with those warm brown eyes, what if she hadn’t asked you for a ride home? Any of those would’ve fixed this. The nights of yelling at each other’s faces and the nights of dead silence, the feeling of unbridgeable distance even when holding hands, the cool air of beach days in the middle of August. Maybe invisible walls are the best solution in some cases, and fuck it if they break some people’s immersion, as long as you can see the sun rise in the distance, you can live with not being able to touch it.

Jisoo suddenly stops her motion just to raise her thigh a little, suggesting you to enter. You align yourself with her slit and penetrate her warmth, her slick coating easing you through her walls and quickly letting you bottom out inside her, but as soon as you try to retreat, she puts a hand on your hip, halting its movement. She just places her thigh back down and stays still for a few seconds. A few seconds that enclose some kind of understanding, or, a feeling of understanding, at the very least. Most of the times when you have a revelation, an epiphany, you have no idea what the fuck is being revealed to you, you only see the light bulb turn on. Your kisses get wetter and longer, traveling from her upper neck to her ear and to her jaw, your hand finds itself on her soft, perfectly sized mound. She starts contracting her abdominal muscles repeatedly and rhythmically, squeezing your shaft between her tight walls, your pelvis still fixed in its place. You see her skin glow more than usual under the faint moonlight, and you think you taste a little salt as your tongue brushes her cheek, which you can’t help but groan on every time Jisoo tenses around you.

Invisible walls are not meant to be broken. They’re meant to disengage, to discourage. What does it say about us when they manage to do what they’re meant to? Is it sad, disheartening? Does it speak about our sense of agency as a whole? What if you did something different, what if it was your fault? You can’t go back, so what can you do about it now? Another night of getting drunk, another night of having sex, in each other’s embrace but miles away.

Your hand feels up her thigh as hers reaches between your legs from the back and starts massaging your testicles. You can’t hold back anymore. Her abs contract once, twice. You stop counting, she feels too good. Your thigh wraps around hers as you cum inside, letting out multiple guttural moans right next to her ear. You drop load after load of white paint onto her walls and into her womb.

You think you hear a little sniffle. Again, the only response is to caress her hair and leave one long kiss on the back of her head. Not more. Sometimes we hurt people that love us, love people that hurt us. And if it’s true that opposites attract, then likes must also repel.

-

footnotes.

sorry if this is depressing. how can i help you get back to horny, the superior mood? lunatically, leaf.

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

+1 Chance | Short/Oneshot

In which some people get an extra life.

Tags/Warnings: pro Esports!Kook, Teenage crushes to ???, SFW, Short, Open ending, all around fluffy

Length: 2.2k Words

A/N: Yes I'm still writing on existing stuff dw. Just a random valentines day drabble. Not proofread.

—--——--——--——--——--🩷--——--——--——--——--—

You met Jungkook in summer, many years ago, when the sun was hot and your friends turned out to be nothing but situationships.

You’d been seeing the hints of their friendship not being of honest nature for a while now- but as a young girl barely about to graduate a year later, you didn’t want to be alone during your allegedly best years of your life. So you ignored the warnings one after another, always found excuses as to why their behavior was totally justifiable and normal, even if deep down you knew that you were just trying to convince yourself of that.

And then, you met him- a guy showing you honest kindness for nothing asked in return.

It was hot, sun burning, and you’d tried to get out the pool- but your small strawberry floaty had kept slipping from underneath you, making it hard to find the strength to get out of the large pool in your ‘friend’s’ backyard by yourself- when suddenly, a hand had grabbed the red item to keep it still, so you could properly hold onto it for a moment.

“Here- let me help.” He’d said, black nail polish chipped. And you’d taken on the help, too tired to really care about the fact that your friend had told you to just ignore her brother’s ‘weirdo friends’- him clearly being one of them. “Want me to help you get out? The sun is pretty hot right now, you should get out soon.” He had worried a little, and you'd nodded, pushing yourself up on the ledge after having let go of the floaty, finally having been able to escape the pool with his help, as he made sure you wouldn’t slip or end up back inside because of your strength leaving you.

You weren’t sure back then where your friends even were at that point. But somehow, it was like a moment of realization- a clear sign you couldn’t ignore any longer. “your uh.. friends went to watch a movie upstairs now, in Kate’s room..” he says, watching you sit down in the shade, drying yourself with a towel you brought.

“..thanks.” you’d mumbled. “I.. Probably should go home now.” You’d shrugged, feeling ashamed and embarrassed to ever having trusted these people at all. All they did was use your kindness and clear need for just someone to talk to and befriend- and you’d willingly accepted that, blinded by the glimpses of happiness they’d made you feel every now and then.

They knew how to manipulate you- keep you happy and clingy enough with occasional treats never given too often.

“I mean.. I can drive you. It’s late.” Jungkook had offered you. “But we’re also missing a fourth player for mario-cart right now, down in Kate’s brother’s room.” He’d jokingly told you- something that had given you hope.

“..but won’t it be weird?” You’d worried. “They don’t know me.”

“Well, everyone’s a stranger when you first meet them.” Jungkook had laughed, as he gave you a towel from close by, both of you having slowly walked back into the house. “I’m Jungkook. Just in case you didn’t know. “ He’d introduced himself, smiling like he’s the sun itself.

And little did you know that on that day, as you gave him your name, you both also set the foundation for much more than just a friendship.

—--——--——--——--——--🩷--——--——--——--——--—

“So you two have history?” Your friend asks, sitting across from you on your hotel room floor, both of you occupied with making sure your freshly applied nail polish dries well. You’re on a weekend trip for just the two of you, to take some time off the stressful life and to nourish your friendship a little.

“Not really.” You shrug. “I wouldn’t call it that. More so.. An awkward friendship when I was younger, before I moved away.” You answer, explaining your situation as to why Jeon Jungkook, one of the current top e-sports players had greeted you when you randomly ran into each other today in the hotel hallway.

“Oh, so he was the guy you had a crush on when you were younger?” She teases, never forgetting anything it seems like- not even a random confession during a childish game of never-have-I-ever. “I knew it. Damn, you were so close! Imagine your life if you’d bagged that guy.” She swoons, having made it known time and time again that she wouldn’t pass up any opportunity to ‘get her hands on those abs’ if she ever had the chance to do so. You know this is simply a joke, but still, her words do make you think.

How would your life have turned out if you got with him?

Would he have chosen to go against his parents’ advice to just keep his hobby as, well, a hobby, or would he have accepted their wishes to instead study something more steady, to earn a position in a stable company? You’ll never know- but despite that, its still interesting to just humor that idea for a moment.

“Hey, maybe there’s still tickets for the tournament!” Your friend chirps up, having noticed her nailpolish having dried by now, phone fetched and disconnected from the charger as she swipes and inputs her passcode to unlock it. “Or I’ll ask if we can have my brother’s tickets, since he didn’t go..” She mumbles, texting him most likely now.

“It’s.. I don’t know, we wanted to go out for dinner though.” You mumble, checking your polish for any imperfections. “You don’t even like gaming that much.” You also add, teasingly so. She rolls her eyes.

“Just cause I don’t play them, doesn’t mean I cant enjoy watching someone play them instead.” She argues. “Also, you can watch the game- I'll watch the pretty boy.” She winks, making you laugh with her, when she receives a text, phone falling out of her hand for a second before she can pick it up again. “Oh- he said we can have them!” She chirps up, clearly excited. “As far as I know they’re free seating- so if we’re early, we get to choose where we wanna sit and watch.” She explains, texting him some more while you contemplate.

This is dumb. He probably has a girlfriend, a life of his own, hell- you have a life of your own now, far away from him. There’s no reason for you to try and test your luck like this, but you’re also a fan of the game he’s competing at. So, maybe..

Yeah. You’re totally not doing it for him. You’re just going to watch the gameplay.

What’s the worst that can happen?

—--——--——--——--——--🩷--——--——--——--——--—

It’s not even the next day yet, but you already see him again.

On your way down to the reception desk, mission clear in your head to muster up the courage to ask for another pillow instead of sleeping uncomfortably like this, you’ve barely exited your room when your eyes meet again in the hallway.

He says your name. His voice has gotten deeper after all those years, you notice. You nod, and he smiles, the turn of the corner of his mouth pulling your attention to the twin piercing he has placed there, silver rings piercing right through his skin. “It’s been a while.” He offers, hands in the pockets of his pants. He must’ve been out with his teammates, smell of faint cigarette smoke clinging to him as you walk a bit closer.

You nod. You feel awkward, all dressed down like this, having gotten reader for bed hours before, trying to find sleep without the extra comfort another pillow would bring you. “how are you?” He asks, and again, you nod.

You hate this. You’re still terrible at talking to people. “I’m good.. and you?” You answer, avoiding eye contact. Of course he’s obviously doing good- great even, about to bag thousands of prize money tomorrow when he’ll surely win the tournament.

“Good. Great even, now that I.. anyways, do.. What’re you doing here?” He wonders, clearly happy to initiate smalltalk. “vacation or work?”

“vacation. With.. a friend of mine.” You tell him, toes digging onto the fluffy slippers you brought on this trip for yourself. “like.. a girl’s weekend.” You explain, and he nods.

“Yeah.. guess you gotta leave the men at home sometimes to unwind.” He jokes.

“hmhm. Well, she had to- I don’t, you know, have anyone, so I’m flexible.” You tell him, and that seems to make his eyes sparkle almost like you’ve challenged him. Which you didn’t- so why does he look so energized now.

“Cool! I mean.. yeah.” He nods to himself, before he seems to realize something. “Oh hey, if I interrupted you or I’m holding you in a conversation, don’t mind me! You look like you were on your way somewhere-“ he starts, pointing down the gall to the elevator. “But uh.. if you wanna go down, there’s a bunch of drunks down in the lobby, just a warning.” He offers, making you deflate.

“Oh.” You hum, defeated. Well, maybe you cal roll up your sweater or something.

“If you.. I can go with you, if you’d like.” He offers. "I’m still pretty fit. Still boxing. So.. I can be your meat-shield basically.” He jokes, making you giggle, his eyes brightening up at the sound and sight.

“I.. that would be nice, actually.” You accept, and he happily walks next to you into the elevator at that, faint music drowning our the heavy buzzing of the mechanics.

“so uh.. how’s your family?” He wonders. “is your dad still making your mom’s life harder every day?” He jokes, but you shake your head, smiling fondly.

“No, they surprisingly settled these days. They’re.. on a trip themselves. For valentines day and all.” You explain, and Jungkook nods.

“romantic.” He teases, and you giggle, nodding along.

“they.. ask about you a lot. It’s kind of funny.” You tell him. “I can only ever tell them what I see online though.” You shrug.

“You.. know what I do?” he wonders, and your eyes widen as you look at him.

“are you kidding me? You’re the top player at my favorite game.” You say, making his expression moron into one of both wonder- and slightly bashful.

“I uh.. didn’t know. Guess I’ll take that as a compliment.” He laughs it off. “I.. have a tournament actually, tomorrow.”

“I know.” You nod, elevator doors opening. “I’ll be there. With my friend.” You say.

“Oh wow.” He chuckles. “I better win, in that case.” He.. flirts? As he walks towards the reception desk with you- drunk group of friends luckily only being loud, but not aggressive. “where will you sit?”

“its.. free seating, so I’m not sure.” You mumble, before you ask the lady at the desk for another pillow for your room number.

“I could probably reserve some good seats.” He says, and you smile.

“You really don’t have to.” You reassure him, when he suddenly asks the lady for something else as well- a flower from the last bouquet left over from the hotel’s valentines sale for the guests. She happily gives it to him, free of charge, before she tells you that housekeeping will bring you the pillow shortly, before she resumes her own work again, letting you and Jungkook walk back into the elevator.

You’re not sure what you think of this- but junkook has liked flowers back then, so why wouldn’t he still like flowers now. Or, maybe he’s staying here with his girlfriend, and he’s just wanting to gift her something on his way back to her- it’s valentines day, after all.

“I’ll.. can I have your number? To text you where you’ll sit tomorrow.” He asks, and you nod, walking into your room to fetch your phone, showing your number for him to type into his own, screen cracked a little in one corner. “awesome. Now then, the only thing I gotta do is..-“ he starts, slipping the phone in the pocket of his pants. “-ask you to be my valentine?” He wonders, holding the flower out to you. "Don’t have to say yes. I’m a big boy, I can take rejection.” He jokes.

“Can I.. ask why?” You wonder, and he grins, shrugging.

“I feel like, maybe the universe is trying to tell me something.” He simply answers. “..giving me a second chance, to ask you out for real this time.”

“wait.. you mean-“ you stammer, and he nods.

“I had.. kind of a huge crush on you back then. And, seeing you again.. it all just.. flared up again. Exactly the same way.” He confesses. “I’m not.. asking for something big. Just one date- and we’ll go from there.” He asks, and you slowly take the flower from him, smile on your lips as you think about his words. Fate, huh? A universe’s second chance? What are the chances?

You decide you don’t care.

“okay.” You answer him,-

And his eyes sparkle brightly, while he smiles at you like you’re the sun.

—--——--——--——--——--🩷--——--——--——--——--—i

[mikavlcs]

Dog Days

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x reader

Summary: The help you need to confess to your crush winds up coming from an incredibly unlikely (and furry) source.

Warnings: ooc!wednesday, hints of bad poetry lol, bad writing, this is another very unserious story

Word count: 3.3k

Notes: the poetry part of this request kicked my ass and you can tell LMFAO. sorry it took so long (and sorry it kinda sucks), but i hope you guys enjoy!

Masterlist | Bonus

Confessing your feelings to someone you like was one of the most profound plights a person could ever face, you’ve decided.

Because to you, right now, there was no greater challenge to overcome, no finer show of courage than to look her in the eye and profess the nebulous depths of your infatuation without keeling over midsentence.

And this anxiety would be easier to conquer if the girl you had caught feelings for was a normie, or really any other outcast housed within Nevermore’s four walls.

But your crush was Wednesday Addams, and that more than justified the intense fear that came with the possibility of confessing.

For the past semester, Wednesday had been assigned to sit at your table in Botany, meaning that you two were almost always lab and project partners in that class. Throughout that time, she wasn’t exactly nice to you, but you’ve yet to be on the receiving end of her notoriously colorful threats, so you figured that put you somewhere friend-adjacent on the small girl’s relationship scale.

That made trying to confess to her no easier, however. Because she could literally just kill you if she decided it wasn’t good enough. If she decided you weren’t good enough.

You hoped knew she wouldn’t considering your short but cordial history, but she technically could.

Now despite her reputation (and the previously outlined possibility of murder), Wednesday never scared you. She certainly tried. You’d lost count of how many grisly medieval torture facts she offered up while working together, but they never had the intended effect of instilling fear into you. Not even once. The absurdity of it made you laugh more often than not.

But, while she didn’t scare you, she did intimidate you. Even now, months and a fully developed crush later, she could render you speechless with a single look.

That immediately did away with the possibility of a verbal confession since you were sure your vocal cords would cease operation before you could even properly start, leaving you staring at her like an idiot. So you were left to figure out another way. And after days of careful deliberation, you decided upon the vessel with which you would confess your feelings.

A poem.

Yes, it was stupid and cliché, but it was something you were familiar with, and you figured Wednesday might have at least some appreciation for it considering she herself was an aspiring writer. But very soon, you came face to face with a problem.

Wednesday herself constantly strived for perfection in every facet of life, so you knew that if anyone were to attempt to court her, she would be expecting no less from them as well.

Everything about this poem—diction, rhythm, rhyme, form—had to be superlative, efficient while effectively flawless.

It needed to be perfect and you just…couldn’t get it there.

Attempt after attempt wound up in your garbage, the papers overflowing out of the small pail by your desk while your hope slowly diminished with each failure. After the 27th trashed page, you knew you needed to stop and recoup.

This approach obviously wasn’t working, so you had to find a different one and to do that, you needed incentive. You needed inspiration. You needed the creative ascension that came with reading good, fresh poetry.

The only issue was that all of your poetry collections were well-worn, memorized from cover to cover. Though you could never tire of them, you knew they wouldn’t provide the spark of creativity you needed.

So you took a trip to the small bookstore in Jericho since the school library had very little in the way of poetry and picked up a few that caught your eye.

You were on your way to catch the shuttle back when you heard it.

A high-pitched yip rose from the alley you had just walked past, making you pause. Curious (and without much else to do), you stepped back to peer into the alley, and you let out a gasp.

Just down the alleyway was a small puppy, covered head to toe in gorgeous gold fur. A golden retriever, your mind helpfully supplied. He didn’t notice you, entirely too preoccupied tearing up an old newspaper to care about your gawking, but you were entranced.

And without your usual forms of impulse control (your teachers and parents) there with you, your mind was made up in an instant.

A twenty-minute trip to the local pet store saw you ready to leave town a few hundred dollars lighter and many bags heavier. You got all the essentials—food, toys, a collar and a leash, a bed, bowls, and whatnot.

All that was left was getting the dog.

Quietly approaching, you set your bags down against the mouth of the alleyway and crept closer to the puppy, careful not to startle him as he stalked a bug of some sort. Once you were within a few feet, you crouched and tore open one of the treat bags you bought. The noise got the retriever’s attention, and he stopped his pursuit to watch you, intrigued.

A soft smile made its way onto your face while you fished a treat out and held it out. It took no time at all for the pup to curiously trot over. He sniffed it for a moment, thoroughly inspecting the cookie before devouring it and looking back up at you expectantly, tail wagging furiously in the air behind him.

With a laugh, you offered him another one, then another, and another. And just like that, a friendship was formed.

The driver barely gave you a second glance when you waltzed into the shuttle with your bags and the dog, just waited for you to be seated and pulled off onto the main road. Definitely not protocol, but you imagined he wasn’t being paid nearly enough to care.

When Nevermore’s castle-like features came into view ten minutes later, you realized with a jolt that there was one thing you hadn’t accounted for: actually trying to smuggle this puppy into the school.

Given that the shuttle was already parked, you had no time for strategy. As you stepped back onto campus, your only plan was to make a mad dash for your dorm. And, after tucking the puppy inside your shirt, that’s exactly what you did. Or tried to do. You only got halfway through your journey when Yoko intercepted you in one of the halls.

“Hey! I see someone went shopping today,” she commented, giving the plethora of bags you were holding a humorous look. “Preparing for a zombie outbreak or something?”

“Something like that,” you answered, taking a step around her, but she moved with you and started matching your hurried strides.

“So, you ready for that Vampire Anatomy test tomorrow? Personally, I think I’m gonna ace it,” she smiled, fangs flashing in the overhead light. You shot her a look, because, of course, a vampire would ace that test.

You opened your mouth, a scathing retort on the tip of your tongue, but the pup chose that moment to show his restlessness, flailing his little limbs violently under the fabric of your shirt.

“Uh,” Yoko slowed at your side, brows drawn above her sunglasses. She pointed at your stomach, where the puppy was violently squirming. “What’s going on there?”

You glanced away, mouth opening and closing. Hard as you tried to come up with a plausible excuse, none came, so you said the first thing that came to mind.

“I’m pregnant.”

Poor Yoko looked positively baffled. You ran before she could say anything else.

The sprint back to your dorm was blessedly uneventful, allowing you to stumble inside with minimal issue. Thankfully, your roommate was out, so you wouldn’t need to deal with any more questions for the time being. You set the puppy down on the floor, letting him explore his new surroundings while you set his things up.

Once his bed, bowls, and toys were in place, your attention turned to another pressing issue. The pup needed a name.

Dozens of names crossed your mind in the minutes that followed, but none of them fit the energetic boy in front of you. Pondering, you watched leisurely as the retriever dragged his new leash across the floor. The sunlight pouring through the window softly bounced off his golden fur while he pranced around your room, leash still securely in his mouth.

A metaphorical light bulb clicked on and in that moment, you gave him the most beautiful, poetic name your mind graced you with.

-

“Choklit!”

The puppy in question froze and looked up at you, short tail wagging dutifully. He was already giving you his best puppy dog eyes, but you knew better than to fall for them. You moved to stand in front of him, hands on your hips.

“We’ve talked about this. Edgar Allen Poe’s collected works are not a chew toy!” You moved the book away from him, held up a blue squeaky toy in its place. “This is what you play with, got it?”

He offered you a yip in response, tail wagging a mile a minute as you handed him the bone-shaped toy. “And remember, play lightly!” you tagged on as he tumbled off his bed.

Principal Weems hesitantly allowed you to keep the puppy on the agreement that your roommate agreed to him (which she did, ecstatically) and that he not be too loud in the room. By some miracle of god, you had been able to abide by that rule for the past two weeks.

Hopefully, your luck would persist.

With him placated, you turned back to the task at hand—finishing your poem. It was coming together, a solid vision of your end goal forming. And after another ten minutes of brainstorming the last line—a woefully overdramatic would you go on a date with me? that hopefully wouldn’t get you killed in your sleep—it was finished.

You pushed back against your desk and leaned your head against the back of your chair, taking a moment to rest. Then, sitting back up, you reread the poem carefully.

A wave of inadequacy crashed into you as you ran back through the words you just wrote. Something about it just wasn’t right, but you couldn’t pinpoint exactly what.

Was the rhythm off? Were the rhymes varied enough? Outside of that, was your prose structured competently? Was the poem too much? Was it not enough? Five rereads only heeded more questions and no answers.

Frustrated, you balled the paper up and threw it behind you, already priming another paper to begin the poem anew.

The telltale pattering of paws reached your ears, turning to find Choklit nosing at the crumbled paper. With a sigh, you walked over and went to pick it up. “Sorry, bud, but my personal failures as a poet are not your toys.”

Choklit, thinking it was a game, quickly snatched the ball up in his mouth and bowed, sending light growls your way. Though you knew it wouldn’t help, you raised your hands in surrender and leaned back.

“I’m not trying to play. I just need that—” You tried to swipe it from his mouth, but he bounced backward and rushed toward the door.

At that exact moment, your roommate returned from choir practice, opening the door just in time for Choklit to run out with the paper in tow. You scrambled to your feet, edging past her into the mostly empty hallway.

“Sorry!” she yelled after you, to which you just waved.

“It’s fine! I got him,” you threw back at her just before you turned a corner in pursuit of the retriever.

You had to admit, the little guy was fast. Faster than you thought he would be (or maybe you just needed to exercise more…who knew). Bewildered students parted for you as you gave chase, giving them a quick thank you! as you kept your eyes on the golden blur ahead.

He toppled down another hallway, one you knew led to a dead end. You grinned and picked up the pace, intent on scooping him up, only to skid to a sudden stop after you turned the corner.

Because there Choklit was, sniffing around at familiar black boots while pale hands smoothed out the paper the puppy dropped before her. You were frozen, trying to figure out whether this was real or some terrible lucid dream.

Wednesday’s cold timbre inadvertently answered your question.

“I didn’t think they allowed dogs on campus,” the girl remarked, giving the puppy at her feet an inquisitive look. Your response came without thinking.

“You live with a werewolf, don’t you?” Your eyes widened. The comment was meant as a joke but could easily be interpreted as an insult. And knowing how close the two had gotten over the past few months, the last thing you wanted to do was accidentally mock Enid.

You watched Wednesday closely, but the only physical response you received was the slightest raise of her brows.

“That was almost funny.” Her words were delivered with her trademark deadpan stare, but you could hear the slightest hint of humor threaded into her neutral tone. Looking for attention, Choklit stood on his hind legs and pawed at Wednesday’s shin, giving her a clear view of the tag on his collar. The disapproval in her voice was clear as day. “You named it…Choklit?”

You gave a half-hearted shrug, pulling out a grin full of confidence you absolutely did not feel. “Can’t be a literary genius all the time.”

“I’m sure,” she retorted sarcastically, holding your unsure gaze for another moment before turning back to the paper in her hand. You followed her eyes and stepped forward with a grimace.

“Sorry, that’s… you weren’t supposed to see that.” You tried to take the paper, but Wednesday stepped back, moving the paper out of your reach.

“It’s addressed to me.”

“That it is,” you conceded with a sigh, “but it was never intended to actually be delivered to you.”

Wednesday hummed. “Well, it seems your dog disagrees.” With that, she turned her attention to the poem. You were tempted to try and take it again, but you liked having your hand attached to your body, so you resisted.

Impatiently, you waited as her eyes ran along the lines slowly, your anxiousness building with every passing moment of excruciating silence until finally, she met your gaze once more.

“A few things to note,” she began, tone much too studious for the occasion. “I applaud the fact that you made the decision not to write a sonnet. They’re easily the most overblown, abominable form of poetry and I would have had to burn this if it was.”

She gave you a small nod. “Now, I will say that I’m a bit disappointed. This certainly could have been written in perfect rhyme rather than end rhyme, but since you said this wasn’t your final draft, I’m willing to give you a pass for this oversight. Mostly. And while AABB isn’t the most complex rhyme scheme, it’s just tolerable enough here to not detract from the poem as a whole.”

You gaped. She was making the same type of comments that your teachers would when they graded your assignments. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think she was reading off the notes from a book report and not talking about a literal love confession.

The ridiculousness of the situation pulled a wry laugh from your throat, but you were quickly silenced with a harsh glare. Once you quieted, she continued, “The biggest problem I see is that this poem is lacking in length, having only a measly 12 lines. A few more couplets would have made this feel more complete.”

“Now onto the poem itself. Though your vernacular pales in comparison to mine, I will admit that your vocabulary is surprisingly expansive considering what you named your pet.” She sent Choklit a pointed look. “Furthermore, I appreciate the use of alliteration in lines like ‘A mind molded by misery and mischief’ and ‘Down into the dark depths of a dreadfully early grave’ but feel it could’ve been utilized more throughout. The mixture of masculine and feminine rhyme is interesting, though choosing one could have aided with overall cohesion.”

You just stood and stared, silently taking in her thoughts and critiques because it was all you could do. She paused, folded the paper neatly in her hand, but still didn’t give it back to you.

“In conclusion, parts of this are noticeably undercooked, but the simple act of reading it doesn’t make me want to purge my insides. I acknowledge the effort you put forth to tailor this poem to me and my interests and will admit that being described as ‘the purest of darkness personified’ is almost flattering.”

A nervous chuckle escaped before you could quell it, but this time she allowed it, her stare remaining blank. You cleared your throat, injected some joviality into your tone. “Great, so uh…do I get an A+?”

“B-, actually,” she amended, running over the folded page with her eyes. “Maybe even a C+.”

At that point, you swore you could feel the humiliation seeping into the very essence of your being. But you were determined not to let it show, to preserve what tiny amount of dignity you had left.

“Okay, well, I’m just gonna take that back and then go vanish off the face of the Earth so we never have to see each other again.” You gave her a pained smile and reached for the paper, only for her to snatch it out of your reach with a glare.

She glanced down to Choklit, who was seemingly enjoying the drama as his eyes ping-ponged between you two, then to the paper again. Another long moment passed before she looked back at you.

“I never said no.”

You blinked a few times, confused. “What?”

“The proposition outlined at the end of the poem,” she clarified, “I never said no.”

“You…” you began to repeat but trailed off as the realization of what she was implying really began to sink in. “Wait, I—you…you can’t possibly mean…”

Growing visibly impatient, Wednesday cut off your verbal meltdown. “Meet me outside the school gates after light’s out this Saturday. I get to pick the activity.”

The unsettling smile she gave you felt like a bad omen, but you couldn’t care less, still fighting off the incredulity clouding your mind. You opened your mouth to respond but when no words came, you settled for a hurried nod.

“Good,” Wednesday peered out the window momentarily. “Now, I must be going. Eugene is expecting me. I will see you Saturday and if you’re late then you’ll be the next autopsy I perform.”

Carefully, she stepped around your puppy and walked off without another word, leaving you to ponder what the hell just happened.

“Oh my god,” you whispered to no one in particular. Again, louder this time, “Oh my god!” At the sound of your excitement, Choklit came scampering over and you bent down to meet him. He stood on his hind legs, bracing his front paws on your knee. “Did you hear that, boy? The poem actually worked!”

He gave you a yip in return, tiny tail a blur behind him. You rubbed your hand along his back, chuckling at the fervent licks your hands received in return.

Only after a student skirted past you both did you realize that you were still in the middle of a hall. You promptly scooped Choklit up with both hands and cradled him by your chest, looking down at him as you began your way back to your dorm.

“Come on, let’s go get some treats. I owe you big time, buddy.”

[thebestofoneshots]

Gilded Constellations | wolfstar x reader

Series Masterlist | Previous episode (backstory)

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 7.7 K Warnings: none Prompt: Of the unopened letters and your first day at Hogwarts. This IS a wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it.

Rainy days and Mondays

July 10th, 1974

Dear Sirius, 

My mom gave me your address. She feels really bad about the whole situation, but that does not justify her actions. She and Dad were awful by keeping their mouths shut, awful, and I’m terribly sorry about it. If only they’d said something, maybe then they would’ve changed the outcome of the situation. 

I tried asking her to write a letter to your parents, with the truth behind the trip, you know, that it was MY IDEA, but she refused to do it. I’m sorry I can’t do anything to help you avoid the wrath of your parents. Our families are a bunch of cowards. 

Thanks for the necklace, It’s beautiful. I put it on when I got home, it’s got a strange weight to it, but I like it, it reminds me of you. I’m writing a copy of the instructions of you know what on a letter and I’ll send it to you once we’re back in school. I’m really upset our trip was cut short. It would’ve been nice to stay in the moment a bit longer. Anyway, I really wish you’re well. Hope to hear from you soon. 

Love,

(Y/N)

July 15th, 1974

Dear Sirius, 

I hope my letter finds you alright. I’m writing again since perhaps my last letter got lost in flight, my owl Reese can be very clumsy sometimes.

 I just wanted to apologize for everything that happened. I’m sorry for having the idea to go to Xplore (not for what happened inside the park, but yes what happened after), I’m sorry your parents found out, and I’m sorry we trusted Regulus to have our backs. I’m sorry my parents were cowards and didn’t back me up when I said the truth. And I’m really sorry for whatever your parents do to you. 

It was really fun spending our break together. I get the chances of it ever happening again are zero, but it’s nice thinking we got to meet. 

Also, I wanted to thank you for the necklace. I've been wearing it every day since I returned home, I really enjoy having it around my neck, it reminds me of our adventure. 

Hope to hear back from you soon, 

(Y/N)

July 25th, 1974

Dear Sirius Black, 

I’d like to be able to assume my letter was lost in the mail again, but since the lack of response from the previous two, I can only imagine you have decided to ignore my letters. 

Which, to be honest, I don’t understand. YOU were the one that decided to take the blame for yourself. If you HAD backed me up, and told your parents it had been me, then you wouldn’t have gotten in so much trouble. 

Last night I received a letter from Regulus, I did not care to read it and threw it straight to the fire. I do not want to hear his apologies, mom told me it was him that spilled the soup. Traitor, like you’d call Slytherins in the past. I guess once a snake, always a snake.  

I don’t want to sound like I’m begging, but please talk to me, if anything just tell me you’re alright. I just want to know you’re ok. 

(Y/N)

August 3rd, 1974

Sirius, 

This is the last letter I write. I’m sorry for bothering you with my insistence, I will not write any more letters. I’m sorry we met, and I’m sorry I caused you so much pain that you decided to completely cut me out of your life, or whatever, I don’t even know what happened. 

I really thought we could stay friends, even after everything that happened. But I guess we can’t always get what we hope for. Either way, a promise is a promise, and I will send you the instructions for you know what once we’re back in school. I don’t want your parents to accidentally find them by opening your mail. 

I really hope you’re alright. 

Goodbye Sirius, 

(Y/N)

After writing that letter you cried like a baby and considered burning it instead of sending it several times. But you knew writing more letters was useless –and that it would be worse if you went on without any closure– still waiting for an answer from him that you would never receive. So you tied the letter to Reese and sent him off. Once the school year started, and after you made a copy for yourself, you bent the old piece of parchment and put it inside an envelope alongside a note. 

August 14th, 1974

Sirius Black  Dear James Potter,

This is something I promised to give Sirius. He is currently very angry at me and will ignore all my attempts to contact him. But this contains something that will be very useful for him, I know he really wanted it. So I appeal to you instead, his best friend, to knock some sense into him. 

Please receive this letter and give him the parchment. He’ll recognize it. If you must, lie to him, tell him you found it in a restricted area of the school library or whatever (Hogwarts has one of those too, right?). 

Yours truly,

Someone who disappointed your best friend. -and was disappointed by him too.

You closed the envelope, waving your wand with a small spell to make sure it was properly sealed and wrote in thick black ink:

TO: James Potter

Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry

2 years later

September 1976

You walked to Kings Cross with your cart in between your hands. Your dad had left you just outside the station. The idea of moving to a new country had been fascinating in theory, but once you arrived there, alone and with no one to talk to, you’d felt incredibly lonely. 

Your mom told you about your dad getting the position in the British ministry on your last day of school, you didn’t even have enough time to say goodbye to all of your friends before going back home to find all your stuff had already been neatly packed in boxes. 

Just two days after that you were in London, lonely as ever. You spend your entire break exploring the muggle part of the city. The muggle museums were pretty interesting, but you felt alone non the less. You kept in touch with your friends through owl mail but it wasn’t the same as being able to actually hang out with someone. 

In the middle of the summer break, your mom took you to Diagon Alley, and nothing made you feel more isolated than Hogwarts students hugging their peers as they saw each other for the first time in a while. The only thing that somewhat cheered you up was the stunning Dark Nimbus your dad had bought as an apology for making the move so sudden. They did care about you, a lot, they just had different priorities than yours.

As you walked through the large corridors of the station you spotted a couple of younger kids walking beside their mother, while carrying trunks similar to your own, one of them had a huge cage with an owl in it, which was a dead giveaway that they were actually wizards, even in their attempts at a muggle outfits.  

You discreetly followed behind them and saw them walk in right through a wall in between platforms nine and ten. You imitated them shortly after and found yourself in a very wizarding-looking space. A huge scarlet train with the words “Hogwarts Express” painted gold on its side pumped smoke through its chimney. As you stared at it, someone bumped against you from behind and pushed you forward a bit. 

“I’m sorry,” He said, turning towards you apologetically “I didn’t see you there.” 

You looked at the boy, he was tall and lean and had a fair share of scars all over his body. Made you think of a pirate from those spicy romance novels your mom had on her bookshelves.

“No problem,” You answered honestly. 

He then gave you a strange look, he was wondering whether he’d seen you before and was about to ask you about it when a girl called for him from the far distance “Remus! We’ve got to go, we gotta care for the first years!”. 

“Coming!” He shouted back at her and turned to look at you one last time before giving you an apologetic smile and leaving. 

You stared at him for a minute, Remus, the girl said. The name was oddly familiar but you couldn’t pinpoint why. Perhaps it was the name of a book character you read a while ago or something. 

Then you continued to push your bags to the baggage administration system, keeping with you only a small trunk with your uniform. 

As you walked inside the train you realised most of the carts were full, and sighted when you realised how awkward it would be to invade some already-made friend group by showing up uninvited, even if the curiosity of meeting the new kid was in your favour. 

You decided to open one of the doors where you’d seen kids that looked about your age walk in earlier but regretted it the moment the door was fully opened. 

Most of them had given you scornful looks. Especially an unhinged-looking boy, but that wasn’t even the worst part. Right there, in the middle of all of them was Regulus Black. The traitor, Regulus Black. 

He stood up the moment he saw you, letting some candy fall from his lap as he stared at you in disbelief. “What are you…? How–“ 

You took a deep breath and decided the world had been a better place when you didn’t even remember his existence. So you simply closed the door and left to find a different place. 

As you continued walking through the train you saw many groups of people hanging out in the different sections of it. Laughing students that talked to their friends, a small little brunette girl, who must have been a first year since she was crying about missing his parents while another girl, that looked just like her but older, comforted her. There was no one else in their cart so you gently knocked on the door. 

The two girls turned towards you and the smallest quickly wiped the tears from her face. “I’m sorry to disturb you,” you said as you closed the door behind you “I’m trying to disappear before someone I really don’t want to see finds me.” You sat down in front of them “I cried too when my parents first put me on a carriage to school.”

“I wasn’t crying,” the little girl said defensively. 

“A carriage?” Asked the older girl, clearly curious now that she started paying attention to you “You weren’t at Hogwarts,” she said as she took your appearance in.

You denied with your head “I’m a transfer student, this will be my first year here,” you said and then turned to the smaller girl “like yours.”

“Does that mean she doesn’t have a house?” The smallest girl asked as she looked up at her sister “But she’s old.”

“Old?” You asked, diverted.

The little girl covered her mouth “I didn’t mean…”

“It’s all right, I was just teasing. But I’m not that old either. Only 16.”

“Oh, like Marlene,” she said pointing at her sister “maybe your guys will end up taking classes together.”

“Year 6?” Marlene asked you.

You nodded and held your hand towards her “ (Y/N)(Y/LN).”

“Marlene McKinnon,” she said while shaking your hands, she was strong and had slightly rough palms, which indicated she flew a lot “And this rude little girl is my baby sis, Margo.”

“Nice to meet you.” You said with a smile.

“I’m not rude,” mumbled Margo as she crossed her arms and started munching on some candy Marlene had handed over to her. 

“You fly a lot?” You asked, when she looked puzzled you showed her your palms “I felt the broom marks when we shook hands, I have them too.”

She smiled and nodded, “I’m on my house’s quidditch team, I’m the best beater they have,” she said with a smile and then whispered, “Just don’t let the other guy know.”

At that, the two of you laughed, at that moment you figured perhaps life at Hogwarts wouldn’t be so bad, as long as you got to meet more people like Marlene. You talked about quidditch for most of the trip back, she told you about the new broom her parents had bought her last year and you told her about your new Dark Nimbus, which she made you promise you’ll let her take a ride on. Margo seemed rather bored with your conversation and grabbed a book from her backpack, something about care for magical creatures. 

Once the train was close to the destination a tall brunette boy knocked on your doors “Are you (Y/N)(Y/LN)?” You nodded to answer and he smiled “Great! My name is Alexander Wood, Head Boy in Hufflepuff, I was asked by Professor McGonagall to escort you to Dumbledore’s office as soon as the train arrived.”

“Oh, all right,” you said as you stood up and grabbed your small trunk, “Hope to see you around,” you said to Marlene with a quick wave before following behind Alexander. 

“You can call me Alex,” he said as he continued walking towards the doors “Professor McGonagall said it was immensely important you arrived before everyone else, apparently they want to get you sorted before the feast,” he explained. 

“Sorted?” You asked confused.

“Into your Hogwarts house,” he explained “There’s four of them, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Gryffindor-“

“-and Slytherin.” You concluded. 

“Yes! Exactly!” he said without noticing the bitter tone which you had used to say the latter “you’ve done your research.”

“More like I met someone once,” you said as you continued to follow him. “There’s a sorting cap, right?”

“Sorting hat,” he corrected. “Don’t dare call him a cap, or he’ll be offended.”

“The hat?! He’s sentient…”

“Very much so,” he said with a nod “and very touchy too.”

“How do you know in which house he’ll sort you?”

“You don’t,” he said as the two of you stood next to the doors “Sometimes you get sorted the same way as your parents, kind of like a family line sort of thing, other times, like in my case, your family gets sorted into all different kinds of houses, my mom’s a Gryffindor, dad’s a Ravenclaw and my sister was a Slytherin. But then again, your parents didn’t attend Hogwarts, did they?”

You responded by shaking your head “Mom studied in Ilvermorny, Dad in Beauxbatons.”

He nodded, and then the train came to a halt, you grabbed the railing to stop yourself from crashing against him and then the door opened swiftly right in front of you. He quickly got down and motioned for you to follow. On the train, everyone else was starting to grab their things to prepare to get off. You followed behind him towards a couple of carriages without any horses. 

You got in and then started to move towards the castle at a relatively fast pace. "Do you normally take new students to the director's office?" You asked Alex.

He shook his head "We don’t get many new students unless they’re first years, and their sorting is public."

"Why won’t mine be?" You asked, genuinely curious. 

"Haven’t a clue," he said honestly and pulled a transparent bag from his robe "You want some?" He asked as he offered the bag to you.

"Are those Fizzing Whizbees?" You asked as you grabbed one of them, he nodded "They’re my favourites!"

"Mine too!" He said with a smile before popping one into his mouth. 

Soon enough the two of you were already entering the huge castle. As you looked around he drove you towards the famous moving staircases. You had heard of them in some of your history classes, but you never expected you’d see them in person, they were as magnificent as the books described. 

"Come on, they won’t wait for you to stop admiring them before they change," he said motioning for you to follow, "you’ll have plenty of time to look at them later on." 

You nodded and followed right behind him. Soon enough you were just outside of an office, a giant golden eagle stood there. A very elegant-looking lady in a green gown walked from the hall towards you "Thank you very much, Alex, for bringing (Y/N) here, I’ll take it from here, you should go to the banquet, help the first years that get sorted into your house." Alex nodded and left, then the lady turned towards you "My name is Minerva McGonagall," you said, you were surprised, up until then you had thought the professor McGonagall they kept referring to was a man. "Follow me please."

You nodded and followed her, as she stood right in front of the eagle it started twirling and unveiling a set of stairs. The two of you walked up the staircase and you found yourselves in front of a large office, filled with magical gadgets, and astronomy tools. An old wizard with a very large white beard stood in the centre "This must be (Y/N)," he said. 

"Nice to meet you, sir," you said to the old man. 

He smiled kindly "My name is Albus Dumbledore, you may call me Professor Dumbledore, I am the director of Hogwarts." You nodded in response "We brought you here to sort you, after talking about it we decided it would be a lot easier to sort you here instead of the banquet hall, we thought you could perhaps feel uncomfortable being the only 16-year-old student being sorted along the first years."

"Thank you, Professor Dumbledore," you responded. 

"And we also wanted you to have enough time to get your uniforms ready before walking to your classes tomorrow." Then he motioned for you to sit on a chair in the middle of the room. Professor McGonagall picked a hat from a pillow and placed it over your head.

"Interesting…" you heard the hat speak, in a rather low tone. Your breath hitched "You’re old to be sorted… it won’t be easy to decide where you’ll fit in best."

"It’s… speaking to me…" you said as you looked at McGonagall. 

"It does that often, just let him ramble."

You took a deep breath and continued to listen "ambitious, clever, brave." He said "Many qualities from many houses in one person…" 

"Ambitious no…" you whispered back "Not cunning, not a traitor."

"You’ve got preferences," He responded to your words "You don’t want to be a Slytherin."

"I’m no snake." You responded. 

"Slytherin are not all traitors, besides, other houses can harbour them too."

"I… I don’t want to see him every day." You admitted, thinking of Regulus. 

"There might be things you don’t know about him… or the other boy."

"I just–" you started.

"–Gryffindor!" The hat roared before you even had time to elaborate. 

Professor McGonagall smiled as Dumbledore told her "She’s one of yours."

She walked towards you, took the hat off your head and set it on the pillow again "I had a good feeling about you," she said with a smile. 

"Nimbletwist," called the old man, soon enough a house elf appeared, "Please take (Y/N)’s robes to the laundry elves, that way they’ll have her house colours before her classes in the morning." The house elf nodded. 

"Please follow us," said McGonagall as they guided you out of the office and towards the great hall. In the middle of the way, the same boy you’d seen on the platform walked towards her. 

"I was told you were looking for me or Lily, she stayed with the first years, and sent me here."

She nodded "This is (Y/N), she’s new, the hat just sorted her in Gryffindor, and she’s in your year. I was hoping you could introduce her to your classmates and keep her out of trouble until the end of the day." The last remark seemed to be directed towards him specifically. 

Remus, as you remembered, just gave her a flashy smile and nodded "I’m always out of trouble." He responded before turning towards you and offering his hand "Remus Lupin, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you." You shook his hand and smiled back. McGonagall and Dumbledore were gone in an instant, and you were left alone with yet a new Hogwarts student. 

"I saw you at the station."

"You ran into me at the station," you corrected teasingly. 

"You’re right," he said with an apologetic smile "I wasn’t looking where I was going."

"It’s ok, I can tell you’ve got very many responsibilities around here."

"I’m a prefect, that’s why I’ve been so busy today," He explained and changed the subject "I didn’t see you on the train."

"I stayed in a cart most of the way there, met a girl called Marlene, she’s lovely."

"You met Marlene?" He asked, surprised. "She’s also in Gryffindor."

“Our year too, right?” He nodded in response. “Where are we going?” You asked as you walked alongside him. 

“Great hall, I just need to meet with some of my friends first.” You nodded and followed him all the way to a hallway, two boys waited there for him. 

“Moony!” Said the tallest of the two as soon as he saw Remus, he was wearing a pair of round spectacles and had relatively long messy hair “Took you long enough.”

“And you brought company,” said the blond boy, he’d been the first one of the two to notice you. 

“Yeah, guys this is (Y/N), she just transferred here, McGonagall asked me to take her to the great hall and introduce her to everyone.”

You waved awkwardly from behind Remus and the shorter boy walked towards you “Peter Pettigrew, nice to meet you.”

“(Y/N) (Y/LN),” you responded with a smile as he shook your hand. 

“Hold up,” said Remus turning towards you “Your last name’s (Y/LN)? Same (Y/N) (Y/LN) Pads couldn’t shut up about on 5th year?” 

Pads? You wondered in your head as the only boy who hadn’t introduced himself spoke “She fits the description,” he said as he looked at you with curiosity “Hair, eyes, complexion, has to be her.”

“Do you by chance speak Spanish and French too?” Peter asked. 

Still slightly confused, you nodded. “It is her! Pas will go crazy when we tell him,” said Remus with a smile. 

“Right, I was forgetting,” said the boy with messy hair “I’m James Potter, nice to meet you,” he said with a flashy smile as he offered his hand for you to shake. 

You took his hand, and that’s when it downed you. These boys, they were all Sirius’ friends. “It’s nice to finally meet you, James,” you told him with a smile.

“Finally?” He asked, confused. 

You quickly remembered the letter you sent him hadn’t been signed with your name and decided perhaps it would be better to leave things as they were “Ah… Sirius told me a lot about you.”

“He’ll be thrilled when he sees you,” said Peter excitedly, to that you wondered which kind of thrilled? “That may not be today tho, if he’s in position.”

You shrugged “In position?”

James smiled mischievously and handed you a small umbrella “Can you take care of this for me? Until we see each other again?”

You grabbed the umbrella and nodded. He winked at you and turned to Remus who spoke to them “So, everything’s ready right?”

“Yes, Pads’ll do the heavy magic, we just need to make sure the lasting jinxes are not countered too fast,” responded James. 

“Fantastic!”

“Off to your prefect duties then,” Said Peter almost shoo-ing Remus “You have to be in position, too.”

Remus nodded and turned around to walk to the other side, turning back to you shortly “Come on,” he motioned for you to follow “I gotta introduce you to some more people,” he said with a smile.

When you arrived at the great hall it was almost already full of people. You saw Regulus staring at you from a table with kids all wearing green, he looked like he wanted to approach you but when Remus guided you to the Gryffindor table he sat back down “Hey everyone!” He said with a smile “This is (Y/N), she’s new.”

Marlene smiled and waved towards you “Here, sit with us.” She said as she and the red hair girl that had called Remus at the station both opened some space for you. 

“Mind taking care of her while I focus on some other prefect duties?” He said looking at the redhead. 

“Of course,” she said with a smile and turned towards you “Lily Evans,” she then pointed at a girl, “You’ve met Marlene, yeah?” She asked to which you nodded, “this is Mary,” she said pointing at a girl with the most beautiful curls you’d seen in your life. “That over there is Tom”, she said pointing at a boy with brown hair “And that’s Beth,” she said pointing at another redhead. She continued naming other students and then she started talking to you about the teachers, who all sat on a table right in front of the four tables with students that wore different coloured robes. 

“Do we always sit colour coded?” You asked as you stared at the other tables.

“Oh… yeah, we sit at our house’s table at meal times.”

“So houses don’t really mix?” 

“On classes we do.”

“But never on meal times?” She shook her head “So you only make friends in your house.”

“Not at all, I used to have a Slytherin friend, but sometimes the values of the people in their houses can become stronger than their original self.”

“I’m sorry,” you said when you noticed that the falling out had clearly hurt her. 

“Don’t be,” she said with a smile, slightly forced. “But you can make friends with other houses, it’s just a bit harder to get close to them.” She explained and then her face lit up with an idea, “You know, Remus and I, we started a study group last year, you could join us if you wanted to, that way you could meet more people.”

“That’d be lovely, thank you Lily,” you told her with a smile. 

By then the sorting ceremony had ended and Dumbledore stood up from his seat in the centre of the teacher’s table. 

“Hogwarts has always been a place of wonder, where magic comes alive and friendships are forged. Whether you are starting your magical journey,” he said glancing towards the first years “or returning to continue your studies, this is a place where dreams are nurtured and knowledge is expanded. We know we’re living in dark ages, the magical community is filled with hate and discrimination at the moment, but the school will not tolerate any instances of said hate or discrimination to be brought inside these walls. We are all witches and wizards, our precedence does not change that fact. We must remember the core values that make Hogwarts shine. Respect, compassion, and loyalty shall be the guiding principles that shape our interactions. We are a community, a single organism, and we must understand that an organism at war with itself is doomed.”

“Embrace the thrill of discovering new spells, uncovering ancient mysteries, and weaving your own story in the tapestry of magic, but remember to be kind, and loving towards your fellow classmates.” He paused and clapped his hands with a smile “May your time at Hogwarts be filled with magical moments, lifelong friendships, and unforgettable experiences. I have no doubt that each and every one of you holds within you great potential, waiting to be unlocked. Welcome to Hogwarts!”

At that moment plates started appearing right in the middle of all the tables and students started to indulge in them. It was truly a feast. “Is Muggle-born prejudice as bad in the UK as the media claims?” You asked Lily who cringed slightly. 

“Worse,” responded Mary instead “Some pure-blood kids’ parents are death eaters,” she explained “They follow in their parents' steps and spread hate among the school. Last year a muggle-born boy was tortured so badly he ended up in St. Mungo’s, they never discovered who had done it.” She explained. 

“We always make sure to walk in groups,” Marlene explained “That way no one's ever completely alone, you don’t want to become a target of their hate.”

“But she’s a (Y/LN)? Your family’s pure blood right?” Asked Beth from the other side “I read about the history of Pure Blood wizards for a project last year,” she explained when everyone gave her a look.

“Uhh.. yeah.” You said with an awkward smile, remembering how your parents had made such an effort to hide your non-wizarding great-grandmother origins from all the records. 

“Still, she’s new, we’re better off if we stick to each other.”

You nodded “You girls know best,” you said with a smile and looked around, you wondered what would happen when you eventually saw Sirius. Would he even want to speak to you? He ignored your letters so I’d seem he wouldn’t, and you had gotten over him, or you hope you had, it’d been over two years. 

By then you looked around. Wondering where Remus and the boys he’d introduced you to had gone too, maybe they were going to skip dinner together or something. And then you felt it, a small drop of water falling on top of your right hand as you were taking a bite of mashed potatoes. 

You stared at it for a second before looking up and feeling another one fall right on your cheek. On the ceiling, the clouds were quickly turning grey, and more droplets of rain started to fall. Eventually, you heard the rumbling of some far-away thunder and saw some of the clouds shine with lighting. In the span of a minute, rain started pouring. Some students got under the tables, others walked in panic towards the doors of the hall. 

You took out the umbrella James had given you and opened it, covering yourself and Lily under it. 

“Why do you have an umbrella?” She asked you,  suspicion evident on her face.

“I… came from Wales, before taking the Hogwarts Express,” you lied “You know how it’s always pouring there.”

She nodded and huddled closer to you, and the two of you both stood in front of the table as you saw the rest of the chaos ensue. Some teachers were trying to use a spell to avoid getting wet but it did not seem to be working. McGonagall was desperately trying to stop the rain while Dumbledore stood there with somewhat of a diverted smile. He stood up and with a wave of his wand said “Finite Incantatem.” The rain stopped, you pulled the umbrella down and shook it to get rid of the small droplets still coating it, but only minutes later it started pouring again, even stronger this time. 

Dumbledore seemed puzzled, but that satisfied smile wasn’t gone, almost as if he was proud of the elaborate spell his students had created. 

Lily looked around suspiciously “I knew they were up to something. That’s why James didn’t even try to sit with me on the train!”

“James Potter?” You asked.

“You’ve met him?” She asked, puzzled.

“Remus introduced me to him and Peter before bringing me here,” you explained.

“Did they look suspicious?” She asked.

“I… wouldn’t know.” You responded. While you were pretty sure it had been them who caused the ruckus you were going through at the moment, you didn’t know how close Lily was to them, and you didn’t want to give her more reasons to think it had been them, which she already did. Who knows? She could’ve been the kinda person who would tell a teacher. And you certainly did not need to add any more reasons for Sirius to intensify his animosity towards you any further. 

“Witches and Wizards, this marks the end of our feast, please retire to your dorms,” Dumbledore’s voice boomed through the hall when he placed his wand on his throat to amplify it. 

Seraphina Nightshade, who Lily had identified as the head of Hufflepuff, walked towards her table "Alex, find the other prefects and take the first years to their dorms."

Alex nodded and went off to tell the rest. "I have to go find the first years,” Lily told you urgently. You nodded and walked alongside her. 

Out of nowhere, Remus caught up with the two of you "Hey again," he said with that dashing smile of his. Lily gave him a look and continued calling the first years. Once outside of the great hall, you closed the umbrella, bending it back to its small state while Lily and Remus made sure all the first years were ready. The Gryffindor head boy, Teddy Hawthorn, had given the prefects the new password to enter their house common room and sent them all but Remus and Lily, who would take the first years, to find the rest of the Gryffindors. Lily was at the front, guiding everyone while Remus and you stayed at the back, making sure none of the new kids were left behind. 

"I get it this isn’t what normal dinners look like?" You said, motioning to the chaos all around you. 

He laughed, "Let’s say it’s a bit of a special one."

As the entire group approached the grand staircases, you spotted Marlene and Mary, who walked along a couple of stairs above you. They were soaked, like most people around you, leaving the stairs very wet behind them. 

"Mind your step," Lily told everyone from the top of her stairs "The stairs are quite slippery, we don’t want anyone to trip."

Just as she said that a small girl that walked just in front of you tripped, her ring falling back a couple of steps. Remus quickly held her up, but the moment she realised her ring was gone she panicked. "It’s a family heirloom!” She said distressed. 

"It’s ok, I’ll get it," you told her as you walked back to find it. 

"(Y/N) wait!” You heard Remus warn but it was too late, the stairs were already moving. Remus jumped before the gap between the stairs was too big but by the time Lily saw what was happening it was too late. It would be impossible for you and Remus to catch up with them unless the stairs aligned themselves again. 

"It’s ok," Remus shouted at Lily, who stood a couple of metres away "We’ll catch up with you in the tower.”

She nodded and motioned for the children to follow her, but the little girl was still distressed looking towards you. You finally found the ring between a crevice and showed it to her. She seemed relieved, you then made a small spell and the ring started levitating, sooner than later it was swiftly landing on her palm. 

"Thank you," she said before running behind Lily and the rest of the first years. 

"That was really nice,” Remus said as he saw the little girl go "and reckless, you could’ve gotten lost"

You turned towards him "and here I thought recklessness was a particular Gryffindor trait."

He laughed lightly as he shook his head "Come on, we should arrive at the dorm room before curfew."

You nodded and followed behind him to another set of stairs, eventually, you found yourselves in front of a dead end. The stairs had also changed on Remus’ planned path “damn it,” he whispered under his breath.

"Plan B is not gonna work, aye?" You asked, leaning against a wall. 

He exhaled, "You don’t seem particularly preoccupied by being lost and not getting to the common room on time."

 "I’m new, I got lost, they’re not gonna punish me."You shrugged “Besides, it’s not as if I had planned the entire prank that got us here in the first place," you said that last bit with a knowing smile. 

"Are you trying to imply something?”

"Me? Whatever could I be implying?" You responded innocently “So… what’s plan C?”

“There’s a way to get there. But you mustn’t tell anyone about it.” You nodded and he guided you through a door a couple of steps behind, then he turned towards you again “Would you allow me to blindfold you?” 

You raised your eyebrows at that, with a little smile on your face “Buy me dinner first?” 

“Not like that!” He responded, surprised. “We’re gonna take a shortcut, it’s a secret passage.” 

“Mm… and if I know where it is, it won’t be so much of a secret…” 

“So…?” He asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Of course you’re not gonna blindfold me Remus!” You retorted “A girl’s gotta know how to sneak around the castle too.” He stared at you for a second, as if trying to decide whether to trust you with the location of his secret passage. “Hey, if it makes you feel better, I solemnly swear I’m telling no one about your passage.” That line convinced him on the spot, but you didn’t know it yet, so you kept talking, presenting your hand in front of him, with your smallest finger raised and an innocent smile “Pinky promise?” 

He laughed at that. “This isn’t the Japanese Mafia,” he nodded towards your finger. 

“Why? You wouldn’t want to cut it off?” You said as you raised your finger to look at it up close, then swiftly brought it back down and turned to look at him “Anyway… Am I gonna have to excuse myself for getting lost, or are we going to take your secret passage?”  

He smiled at that, he kind of started to understand why Sirius was absolutely obsessed with you when he came back from that summer in 5th year. “All right, let’s go.” You smiled at that and followed behind him. He took you all the way to the end of the hallway where a giant painting stood. Besides it, a shield with two swords crossed in the middle, like a coat of arms. 

“Sneaking about again, Mr. Lupin?” Asked the old wizard staring at us from the painting “And you bring company,” he added suggestively.

“Not today Oliver,” Remus complained as he pressed a button on the hilt of one of the swords, causing the shield to separate from the wall, opening a relatively small hole. 

“That’s the secret passage?” You asked, looking at the dark passageway that seemed to extend from the other side of the window-like hole. 

Remus nodded “Is either that or we go wait until the stairs decide to change for us.” 

“Fine then,” You said as you climbed through the wall and pulled your wand from your pocket, whispering “Lumos.” Remus was just behind you and once he was inside, the shield closed the hole in the wall. 

“So…” you said, scooting out of the way to let him take the lead “Which way to go?”

“It’s easy, we’ll have to go up some stairs tho,” he explained before he started walking, with his wand raised high to show you the way. He took a couple of lefts and then you went up a rather long spiral staircase. “We’re almost there,” he said. “We need to get out of this passage and take another one before we get there.” 

“Do I have to swear I won’t tell anyone again?” You teased, he gave you a look and then shook his head with a small smile forming on his lips. “Just wanted to make sure.” 

By then you had reached a dead end, he whispered something onto the wall and it moved, letting the two of you out. But just as you got out of the passage and onto the hall, you crashed into something. But there was nothing really there. Until there was. Somehow you had stepped on Jame’s cloak and it had slipped off of him and Peter. 

You were very surprised when you saw them appear out of nowhere until you noticed the cloak on the floor. Picking it up, giving it a look and handing it over to the two of them. James took it. “You’ve got an invisibility cloak?! Where did you get it? I’ve been trying to get my hands on one for ages, but the spells on them are rarely any good, I’ve never seen one as good as yours.” 

“Uh… it’s a family heirloom…” 

“Oh, you’re so lucky!” You said and then, you realised how the rain prank had lasted so long “It all makes sense now! That’s how you managed to counter Dumbledore’s spell. You were close to him! You used your cloak to hide from the people and did a close-range counter spell, Dumbledore’s magic didn’t even reach all the way to your spell caster.” 

“You told her it was US?!” Peter asked Remus, looking completely betrayed. 

“Remus? No! I assumed it was you when James’ umbrella became useful!” You told them, and then looked at Peter “You confirmed my theory now, tho.” 

James punched him lightly on the arm in reproach “Ouch.” Peter complained and rubbed his arm as Remus walked closer to you. 

“You cannot tell anyone about it,” he said seriously. 

“Why would I? It was a great prank! You could’ve added chaos by having toads raining too but I guess the spell would’ve been a bit more complicated.” 

“That would’ve actually been great!” Peter agreed, forgetting all together he had been the one to out them. 

Then you heard steps from the end of the hallway “Someone’s coming,” you warned.

“Quick, let’s get out of here.” Said James as he pulled a tapestry from the side and motioned for you to get in. 

Once deep in the small aisle, you decided to ask the question you’d been thinking about since Remus guided you through the first passage “So… How do you guys know so many ways to sneak about? Are you in some kind of secret club?” 

“We’re making a map, so we explore the castle a lot,” Peter said casually which earned him another punch, this time from Remus. 

“Might as well tell the new girl all of our secrets, right mate?” James complained.

“I guess I’m trustworthy like that.” You said with a smile, even if the dark passage wouldn’t really let any of them see “Besides, it was you who gave me the umbrella.” 

“Yeah James, you gave the girl the umbrella,” Peter retorted. 

“I was trying to be nice,” he explained, “she’s new.” 

“It’s ok, I won’t tell anyone, about your prank, or about the fact that I was sneaking about with the… What? Hogwarts gang of pranksters?” 

“That’s a terrible name for a gang,” Remus said. 

“Says the guy with MOONY as a nickname.” 

“I swear she’s been here for like 3 hours and she picked up on half the things we’ve done,” James said, pinching his nose. 

“Also Sirius mentioned his friends and he liked making pranks in the school at some point,” you said remembering how he’d told you about a particular prank a few days before you sneaked onto the zip line park “When we were on talking terms.” 

“On talking terms?” Asked Peter, but by then you had already arrived at the end of the hallway and Remus got ahead of him, shushing him before looking around and motioning for the three of you to follow behind. 

“Mystic whispers,” he said to the portrait of a fat lady who opened up to let the three of you into the Gryffindor common room. 

Regulus’ letter, 

Burned by (Y/N) without opening. 

July 23th, 1974 Dear (Y/N),  I know you may not want to hear a word from me, but beseech of you to do so, for it is imperative that you lend me your ear. First and foremost, it was never my intention for my progenitors to discover our clandestine affair. I had resolved to provide a cloak of secrecy to shield you and Sirius from their prying eyes. However, an owl arrived to my father, telling him his offspring had been seen in a witchcraft emporium within the city limits, it enraged him. With righteous indignation, my father directed his scrutiny towards me, inquiring as to your whereabouts. I resorted to our story, how you’d gone to a broomstick race with Sirius, as we had plotted. Yet, to my great chagrin, he had already acquired knowledge of the falsehood, detecting the mendacity inherent in my words. Compelled against my volition, I found myself partaking of a draught, undoubtedly Veritaserum, rendering me incapable of withholding the truth. At that moment, the weight of guilt settled upon my conscience, eclipsing any previous instances of remorse in my life. Providentially, I managed to refrain from implicating your involvement, particularly as the collective assumption posited the culpability of dear Sirius.  Despite your impassioned plea, reverberating across the wooden deck, beseeching their cognizance of your agency, I, alas, found myself bereft of the fortitude to voice your pivotal role. The notion of subjecting you, dear (Y/N), to the punitive machinations my progenitors habitually employ proved an insurmountable ordeal. I could not bear the prospect of witnessing my parents inflict their customary retributions upon your personage. I know their punishments. I do not want you to know them too.  Perchance I observed my mother consigning some of your letters to Sirius to the scorching fire, ensuring that he refrained from indulging in the forbidden act of writing you back. They harbour an unwavering resolve to preclude him from "exerting undue influence" upon your vulnerable disposition. "For as long as you dwell within this house, the act of inscribing correspondence to her shall be verboten," Mother uttered with resolute conviction. Devoid of alternative recourse, Sirius succumbed, he was forced, a spell was cast on him. Ah, Mother, she can be wicked if you do not abide by her volition.   I beseech your clemency, dear (Y/N), for the manifold grievances that have befallen us. I fervently pray that you shall not harbour enmity towards Sirius and myself, for the prospect of such estrangement would be anathema to my very soul. I hope this letter finds you in good spirits and the finest of health. With utmost sincerity, Regulus Arcturus Black

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Raead more Marauders Fiction

A/N: Most Poly!Marauders fics are oneshots, where the relationship between characters is already established, and they're all happy and pleased with it. No issues, no drama, but I WANTED the drama. Couldn't find it, so I set myself up to write the story behind the stablished relationship. I wanted to know how they started dating each other, the jealousy, the will they won't they, because getting into a poly relationship can't be an easy task, and I wanted to explore that story. If you're interested: Welcome to Gilded Constellations!

[the-mandawhor1an]

Europa (Frankie Morales x afab!Reader)

ausa est quoque regia virgo nescia, quem premeret, tergo considere tauri, cum deus a terra siccoque a litore sensim falsa pedum primis vestigia ponit in undis;

the regal maiden even dared to climb atop the bull's back unaware of who she mounted, the god first from land and then from shore set treacherous footsteps toward the waves,  then he goes further and carries his prize across the wide ocean 

Summary: One of your friend’s bachelorette trip takes a sudden turn when a stranger makes advances at you. Prepare to be swept off your feet like in the old tales of the ancient world. 

Word count: 4k 

Warnings: 18+ content, MDNI! No one has a name but Frankie; Slightly dubcon; abduction but make it sexy; the cap stays on; non-explicit descriptions of sexual acts (it’s Frankie, you know what he’s known for); oral (f recieving); fingering; overstim; piv (be responsible and use protection!) 

A/N: This is my part for the Pedro Pantheon event hosted by @beskarandblasters – Kel has since left Tumblr but I finally found inspiration to write this, so I’m still publishing it. My ‘prompt’ was Frankie as Zeus and I  relatively quickly settled on the abduction of Europa. (The other idea was maybe writing about Hermes’s parents but that would be another Maia, haha) Idk, it felt like a nice story to ‘modernize’ and put Frankie in there. I’ve not specified if he actually is the god Zeus, but it can be interpreted, I guess. 

It’s my first time actually narrating sex, so be gentle in your criticism. It’s not proper smut, because I still struggle with being super explicit. Feels vulgar and every fiber of my being hates being vulgar. (more power to you if you can write that shit because you can bet your butts love reading it)

The jetski… I guess I have to blame YSD by @swiftispunk for that one 

The Latin part on top is from Ovid’s Metamorphoses. The translation is not completely mine, unfortunately my Latin is close to nonexistent these days. 

divider made by @saradika-graphics 

and the biggest smooches to @janaispunk for beta'ing for me 💜💜💜💜

It's days like this that make you appreciate not having any ties that weigh you down. Sure, being single can be lonely, but at least you don't have to justify going on a 3 day Bachelorette trip with your friends to anyone. And you'll be the only one who doesn't have to worry about falling for a stranger at the beach. 

The four of you, all dressed in light, flowy dresses to cover your bikinis, arrive at the beach. The white sand is warm underneath your feet, sinking in with every step towards the beach bar. The air is fresh and filled with laughter as you approach the bar, the blue of the ocean slowly merging with the changing sky. Sundown is approaching, although you’ll probably have an hour or so of sunlight left. The bride to be orders the first round of drinks, colorful cocktails. The others talk about their relationships, what their partners are doing while you are out here in literal paradise. You drown out most of the noise, not wanting their discussion to ruin your mood, not interfering with their dialogue either. Part of you can't help feeling jealous, but the thought doesn't linger for too long, as a good looking stranger appears. 

He wears a light shirt and cream colored shorts, the only unusual sight is the navy blue cap that hides most of his what you assume to be dark brown hair. He is very tan, his skin speckled with freckles. A smile is plastered on his lips and you can't help but feel a little flustered when his brown eyes meet yours for a moment. He is gorgeous, like the gods had sculpted him with the utmost care to not make a single flaw. His eyes are dark, his nose prominent and his lips look plump and soft. His beard is well groomed, although one spot on his jawline is missing hair. Weirdly enough, the bald spot almost looks like a heart. 

“Looks like you’re having fun here, ladies. Any chance I can join?” he asks as he leans on the bar with one arm, facing your group. It should be obvious with your friend in all white, but she is willing to let the stranger in on the secret. 

“I’m getting married soon and I wanted to take a little trip with my friends.” She raises her hand to present her engagement ring, a relatively big diamond that sparkles in the slowly setting sun. 

“Oh, congratulations,” he replies with a genuine smile. “I hope he knows he’s a lucky guy.” His gaze wanders between all of the women, finally resting on you for just a moment too long to be accidental. “And your partners are fine with you girls going out for multiple days?” Again, his gaze is fixed on the bride, who gives off group leader vibes right now. And that’s when a mischievous grin forms on a few faces and suddenly all of them look at you. 

“Some of us didn’t need to talk to anyone about leaving for a few days,” your best friend says, giving the man incentive to flirt with you rather than her. You dart her a disapproving look, but now the handsome stranger fixates his attention to you. So much so that he actually switches his place to be closer to you. 

“Nice friends you got there, huh? I’m Frankie,” he takes a sip of his drink. His smile sure is contagious, having you practically beaming at him when you state your name. 

“They are the best. I was the first to start the ‘single forever’ jokes, I don’t mind the teasing,” you explain and take a sip of your cocktail. “What about you? You’re at the beach all by yourself.” He chuckles, a deep rumble that you can barely pick up audibly, but you feel the vibrations. 

“Waiting for my next victim, possibly.” You furrow your brows the same moment when he lifts his hands apologetically. “Sorry, it’s a joke. I live in the area and I just enjoy being here, especially around sunset. Maybe it’s a little rude of me to just approach a group of women clearly enjoying their time but I couldn’t help it.” His index circles the rim of his drink. It almost seems like he is in deep thought, or perhaps just nervous? 

You smile. Part of you wants to think he is nervous because of you. His interest in you is obvious. “How long have you been single?” 

“It’s been a while. I mean, I sometimes miss it, but … I enjoy not having to justify anything. I’m independent and I guess that’s what’s off-putting to so many men in the first place.” You shrug, it’s not like you miss your ex or anything. Sometimes it’s lonelier, yes, but, over all? You’re happy. 

“Sounds more like you’ve met the wrong men. If you ask me, that is.” Frankie takes another sip and mirrors your shrug. As much as you don’t want to agree, it does sound like he’s on to something there. 

“You’re probably right,” you finally confess with a sigh. Your friends never complain about their partners either, so maybe you’re just unlucky with your choice of men. 

“The sun is setting,” the bride interferes, just as you're about to ask Frankie if he'd be the right kind of man. You shoot him an apologetic look as the girls detach from the bar to head down to the shore. He smiles back at you and nods. You feel his gaze linger on you once again as you tread towards where the waves softly caress the light sand rhythmically. The setting sun paints the sky in the most beautiful shades of pink and orange and shifts to purple where it reflects on the water. It really feels like you’re in paradise, an otherworldly escape to mark the beginning of a new chapter in your friend’s life.

“Thank you for taking us here,” you start, resting one hand on her shoulder. The others join in until all of you are intertwined. 

“Of course,” she replies. ”All of you have been in my life for years. I wanted to make sure you know that I appreciate it. And I love y'all. So much. I know times were tough sometimes, and they might be when I turn into bridezilla,” she laughs, “but I know you'll always be there for me. All of you are my best friends and the best bridesmaids I could ever wish for.” A quiet sob escapes her lips as the whole group envelops her in a big hug. You exchange ‘I love you's and stay like this for a good minute. 

As the sun draws closer to the horizon, the saturation of the scenery changes drastically. You never thought you’d see a sunset like this ever, but here you are. 

“All that’s left is for our nun to find a man now,” Bestie intercepts, poking your side with her index. With your middle finger raised, you stick your tongue out towards her. “Frankie looked interested,” she adds. Of course she eavesdropped on your little conversation. Despite what you had told yourself before this trip, you can’t help it – you think about his soft smile, how his cheeks show a little shadow where dimples form. 

Your gaze scans over the horizon. Birds fly high in the sky and far in the distance are little spots moving on the water. You assume these to be boats, maybe even yachts, when a noise draws closer. At first it is low, almost like a mosquito whirr, just deeper, but as it gets louder you can identify it as an engine. A white jet ski appears in your peripheral. “Well, speak of the devil,” you hum as you recognize that same navy blue cap. 

“The beach is so large and yet you decide to come back and interrupt us once again,” you roll your eyes at him, a sheepish smile plastered on his face. How could anyone be mad at him? Somehow, he is like personified sunshine. Just… making you smile even if you didn’t want to. 

“I’m really sorry. But I have my reasons. No one this pretty should shed tears on one of the most beautiful beaches on this planet. It destroys the magic.” He grins as he dismounts from the jet ski. With an outstretched hand, he offers the girls to take little spins.

No one accepts the offer at first. That is until your best friend sits on the machine and draws small circles on the water, revving the engine whenever the back of the jet ski is pointed away from the group. The water that gets kicked up paints a rainbow against the colorful sky. Frankie stands beside you, taking the sight in just like you are. 

“Looks fun, huh?” he leans over and asks. You nod, but don’t turn your head away from the water. 

“It does.” 

“You should try it.” 

“I can’t. I’m … I’ve never been on one.” 

“It’s not that hard. Wouldn’t say like riding a bike but you’ll get used to it quickly.” Now you turn your head and watch him bite his lower lip, practically gnawing on it until he realizes you’re looking at him. “If you want to, you can hop on while I drive you around.” 

Originally you want to decline the offer, but you’ve never been one to make the best choices. “Alright. But don’t rev the engine like that. I will jump off,” you finally say with a nod towards your best friend, who has the time of her life. Something in the pit of your stomach warns you to be careful, but those warm, deep brown puppy eyes make you forget any walls you had put up. 

It's your turn and despite his offer, you sit in front. Frankie has no issue practically welding himself to your back to be able to touch the handlebar. The girls cheer from the shore as the engine starts and you slowly glide over the water. Maybe you should worry about not wearing a life jacket, but then again, you are in shallow water. 

Right? 

You're distracted by the sensation of him pressing into you, your back melting into his chest. The water is nice and just the right temperature, not too cold on your skin whenever a few drops land there after a turn. “See, it's not that bad,” Frankie hums from behind you, taking one of his hands from the handle to glide over your thigh. A shiver goes down your spine and you inhale audibly. 

As you turn back, a grin is plastered on his lips. You mirror the expression. “You were right. Not bad at all.” Your gaze lingers on his lips. He's so close, all you'd have to do is lean in and… 

“You want to go a little faster?” he asks, interrupting the mental image that had just formed in your mind. Soft lips on yours, his scruff scratching your skin gently. Burying your fingers in his hair. Fuck. Part of you wants to go all the way with him. 

With a nod you give him permission, holding onto the handle as well, just to make sure you won't fall off. Frankie shows you how to steer and accelerate, allowing you to try for yourself. His arms wrap around you while you take a few turns. It might be your mind playing tricks on you but you're almost certain he is grinding into you. Plus, you can't deny that you enjoy the sensation. 

“Feels good, doesn't it?” he whispers in your ear and leans down, placing a kiss on your shoulder. A little groan escapes him as he once again rolls his hips against your butt. 

“Frankie,” you hiss, but as one of his palms brushes over your thigh again, you turn silent. 

“Let's get out of the water, huh?” The purr in his words drives you mad, an ache forms in your core. 

Fueled by your reaction, Frankie continues to place soft kisses along your neck and shoulder. Completely distracted by the sensation of his lips on your skin, you don’t pay much attention to where you are going. 

It is, in fact, your friends’ voices calling your name that pull you back to reality, barely louder than a whisper over the roar of the engine underneath you. You turn your head, the shore behind you is so far away you can barely make out your friends in the distance. Not only that, the distance is increasing. You face Frankie as best as you can without completely letting go of the handle. 

“Frankie, what the actual fuck? This isn’t funny!” you scream at him. A normal conversation was off the table the moment he decided to take you out on the open ocean. The jet ski slows, the engine’s roar dying down to a low hum as you glide over the water with the leftover momentum. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles. His eyes avoid your death-stare, but as you try and dismount from the machine, he wraps both arms around your torso, effectively locking you into place. “Hey, relax. If you jump off you’re out in the open. Shore’s too far away for you to swim. I’m not going to hurt you, I promise.” 

“That’s very comforting while you’re pressing me into your chest.” You try to push away from him, to no avail. “Just take me back. Please.” 

“Can I show you something first?” 

Part of you wants to spit a ‘Fuck no’ into his stupid, pretty face but it’s like you’ve suddenly forgotten how to say no. Something in the softness of his gaze convinces you to at least try. If he wanted to hurt you, he would just do it, right? 

Right? 

 “You better make this worth the almost-heart attack I just had,” you finally grumble, your face turned forward. He places more kisses on your neck as the journey continues. 

A short travel later, you end up on another beach. The sand looks cleaner than the beach next to the bar, and it is suspiciously quiet. The sun has set, only the orange tint on the horizon remains. Frankie is not even an after thought as you walk over the beach towards the forest that presumably separates you from civilization. 

There, in the shade of large palm trees, you find a small hut. Fairy lights are attached to the roof, giving off soft, colorful light, inviting you to come closer. The door is open, so you set one foot inside. “Hello?” you call out and wait for an answer. Carefully you walk inside further and look around. 

The inside is dimly lit, warm yellow lightbulbs create an overly cozy atmosphere. The hut barely has more than a bed, a small bathroom and a tiny cooking corner. It shows no signs of any recent tenants, the bed looks freshly made, though. You see no phone to maybe figure out how to get back. 

You’ve wasted all your time being in awe of the little getaway house, as now Frankie appears in the doorway again. “I’m sorry for scaring you,” he apologizes. You scoff and cross your arms in front of your chest. That’s not enough. You shake your head. “You’ve abducted me, Frankie. What the actual fuck, are you going to murder me now?” 

Frankie tries to come closer, but you take a step back. He looks heartbroken at the realization that you are, in fact, scared of him. A little. 

“I don’t want to do anything,” he again pleads. A hand reaches out to you, touches your arm and you let it happen. “I will not hurt you. I might be an idiot but I’m not an asshole. I wanted to be alone with you and thought the jet ski would impress you.”

“And what an idiot you are. A normal person would just ask to be alone with someone, not kidnap them.” And he knows you’re right. Although the jet ski left an impression. It’s hard to deny that. 

“Would you have abandoned your friends for a stranger?” 

“Well, you’ll never find out.” 

He sighs in defeat. You let your guard down, even as he draws in closer until you’re standing chest to chest. Slowly you start to believe him not wanting to hurt you. “Do you want me to take you back?” he asks. His eyes are darting between your eyes and your lips. Your heart rate picks up. The sensation of his lips on your skin still drives you wild. 

“Yes, please.” You look up to him, into the chocolatey brown eyes of his. His lips curl up into a smile as a thought seems to materialize. 

“What?” 

“It’s such a shame.” 

“What is?”��

Now both of his hands are on your arms, the top of his fingers barely graze over your skin and cause goosebumps to form. “You have such beautiful eyes. It is a shame that all they’re full of right now is the anger you feel for me. It’s a shame that your soft and warm skin is covered in goosebumps due to my touch. And the biggest shame of all is that your lips quiver with rage when all I want to do is kiss them to show you how sorry I am.” 

That hits you like lightning. 

Your eyes widen but before you can properly react to anything he said, you feel the same soft lips you had felt on your neck, now on your own lips. He’s soft and careful at first, but as soon as your arms wrap around him, any regards are thrown out the window. A soft, breathy moan escapes your lips as he pulls you in closer, allowing you to feel the muscles underneath his shirt. 

“Allow me to make it up to you, beautiful,” he purrs against your lips. How could anyone resist? 

How can you? 

Instead of an answer, you catch his lips once again. Frankie takes that as a clear yes and pushes you into the wall behind you. Now that you're pinned, he lifts one of your legs by the knee. The kisses turn more heated as he grinds his pelvis into yours. 

The softest little curses escape his lips whenever they let go of yours. He's rock hard when he grinds against you. Fuck. The feeling drives you insane, even though you're still separated by various layers of fabric. Your body may not show it externally, but you feel the heat traveling to your core. Every little whine and moan that echoes in your ears makes your muscles contract, practically screaming for relief. It would pull you to your knees if you weren't pinned to the wall. 

Does he know what he does to you? How badly you suddenly crave him? 

Something sparkles in his eyes as they meet yours. His pupils are blown out, nothing more than pure darkness. And still there is this sparkle. 

Some time later you find yourself on the bed. The mattress is so soft it practically envelops you in a hug, as if you are embedded in a cloud. Your dress and bikini have long been discarded when Frankie kissed nearly every inch of the skin he exposed. Right now you should feel vulnerable, naked in a stranger's bed, but you don't. 

Perhaps you're incapable to see the situation for what it could have been, because the same man that took you here is currently deeply immersed in between your legs. How can you think straight when his grip is unmoving around your hips and he drinks you up like a man close to death from dehydration. The moans that vibrate against your core send shivers through your entire body. He ravishes in the sweetness of you, undeniably turned on by the noises he elicits from you. 

One thing bothers you, though. When you look down, hoping to meet his eyes, all you see is the visor of his cap. It is downright rude of him to obstruct your view like this. As you reach out to take the cap off of him, he protests with a low growl and pulls away. Again, the vibrations of his voice on your skin make you writhe, but he holds you where you are. “Frankie,” you whine. With a sigh he adjusts the cap so you can see his face, smiling at you softly. His skin glistens in the low, warm light. Without breaking eye contact, he dives back in, but this time a finger joins in in hopes to coax more noises out of you. He cocks an eyebrow when you moan softly. His eyes are completely dark with lust when he dares to try a second finger. 

It is too much. 

Your head falls back and your eyes roll into the back of your skull as you feel pleasure take over and you revel in pure ecstasy. There’s only one word on your tongue, his name over and over, like a prayer. You ride out the waves of your high as best as you can, but Frankie continues to touch you, feel you, taste you, and it is too much to handle. Before you can feel another orgasm build up, you grab hold of the arm that still pins you to the bed. 

“Frankie, please. That’s enough,” you plead with him. You look down to see him watching you intently. With one last kiss to your inner thigh, he lets go of you and crawls upward until he’s eye to eye. Half of his face sparkles, but now that little spark in his eyes is missing and the warmth has returned. The cap gets pulled down into its correct position and he plants soft kisses on your cheek. 

“If you want me to do something else, you’ll have to tell me.” He continues to pepper kisses all over your face. He lowers his body onto yours, allowing you to feel his weight and also how painfully hard he still is, turned on by your pleasure. “Tell me what you want, baby,” he purrs into your ear. 

“Fuck, Frankie, fuck me,” you gasp. 

And fuck you he does. Hours upon hours you two are one. Sometimes it’s you on top, but most of the time he hovers over you, relentlessly snapping into you while his lips capture yours. He whispers the filthiest things into your ears to drive you mad. “You feel so fucking good.” “You’re all mine.” “Just look at how beautiful you are when I fuck you.” “You’re so gorgeous when you cum, fuck.” 

When he is finally done, the sun is about to rise. The sky is changing colors once again when he plops down on the bed beside you. Both of you are spent, out of breath and sweaty, but nonetheless he pulls you into his chest and places soft kisses on your forehead. “Fuck,” he whispers and you can’t help it, you chuckle. “Would you have come with me if I asked you?” he wonders. As if that is of any importance now. 

“I don’t know,” you reply and kiss his jaw, specifically the little patch that looks like a heart. “All I know is that you won’t have to abduct me next time.” 

Gently, he catches your lips with his and kisses you again. “Next time?” There is hope in his voice and his eyes once again remind you of a puppy all of a sudden. 

“Stop pretending you don’t know that I enjoyed that,” you reply. Now it’s you who kisses him and places one hand on the back of his head. 

“Me too,” he whispers in return. 

“Where even are we?” you ask and turn around to look outside of the little hut, press your back and butt into him. The beach is close by and besides you and Frankie there was no sign of life all night long. “Doesn’t have a name… yet,” he says with a shrug. So this is his island but it doesn’t have a name? 

“It doesn’t have a name? Why not?” 

“Haven’t found one I liked.” Kisses are planted along your shoulder and neck. “Your name would be quite fitting, I think,” he adds. Either it’s the kisses or the night you two shared, but you like the idea. 

“Can’t deny that it sounded good when you said it over and over again.” Now you shrug and turn your head to look at him again. 

“Guess it’s official then,” he finally says with a wink. 

[seramilla]

Days before chaggie wedding and Vaggie is terrified, wondering if she deserves all of this

Vaggie stands before the full-length mirror in Charlie's room at the rebuilt hotel. It's not as big or fancy as the one she'd used at the bridal gallery all those weeks prior, but it gives her a good full-body view of the wedding gown she'd ordered. It had been delivered via courier earlier that day. The one she'd tried on in the gallery had been a little big on her, especially in the bust and height departments.

This one, however, had been specifically tailored to her measurements. She twirls, looking at the way the bright crimson of the skirt sways and flows following her movements. The delicate black bodice feels much more flexible and comfortable than she'd thought it would. Every aspect of the dress accentuates her every curve and feature superbly. She couldn't have asked for a better fit for her big day.

Why, then, does her heart race with unexplainable fear and dread every time she looks at herself? She's just stood there in front of the mirror for a good 30 minutes, observing and over-analyzing her reflection, as if trying to find some flaw in the design. But she can't. Everything about it is perfect. So why? What is there to be afraid of? Why is her heart currently a jackhammer in her chest?

She hears a knock at the door. Short and brusque, like a long-lost friend is paying her a quick visit. She yells out "Yeah?" to whoever is knocking. When Charlie responds, "It's me, Vaggie! You okay in there? It's almost time for dinner!" Vaggie flails her arms in the air, panicky and flighty, as she rushes toward the door before Charlie can open it.

"Don't come in!" Vaggie shouts, nearly tripping over her train as she scrambles toward the door, throwing her body against the hard wood surface, as if that could possibly keep Charlie out if she really wanted in. "I'm trying on the dress! The groom isn't supposed to see the bride before the wedding, remember?!"

Vaggie can hear Charlie giggling from the other side. "I'm not really the groom, though. Even though I guess I will be wearing a tux."

"I just..." Vaggie searches her brain for a reasonable answer to justify her discretion. "I want it...to be a surprise! Yeah! It'll be more special that way!"

She can practically hear Charlie beaming through the door. "I guess...are you sure you don't want to show me, though? Just a peek? I am a little overeager to see you in it. I'm sorry if that's weird."

Vaggie smiles. It's just like Charlie to see any normal act of romance as some sort of rebellion or something. "I don't really buy into the superstitious aspect of it...I just...I do think it would be more special if we waited, you know?"

"Fair enough," Charlie responds, though Vaggie can still hear the obvious disappointment in her voice, even through the barrier of the door. "Are you sure you're okay, though? You've been in there an awfully long time. Does it fit okay?"

Vaggie looks down at herself, without the superimposed image from the mirror. She's looking at herself; her real self. Honestly, everything is about as perfect as it gets. She might need to have the skirt taken up a little bit, so she doesn't almost trip over it again. She thinks there's a short joke hidden in there somewhere...but otherwise, the garment couldn't be more ideal if she'd conjured it up straight from her own imagination.

"I might have some adjustments made on the skirt," she tells Charlie. "But I don't think it's a big deal."

"That's wonderful!" Vaggie can practically hear Charlie's clapping hands through the door. "I'm so excited, Vaggie! I can't believe in just a few days you're going to be my wife! And I'm going to be yours! It's such a strange feeling! But I'm happy!"

"Me too, hon! You go on back downstairs, yeah? I'll catch up in a minute."

"Sounds good, baby!" All disappointment has left Charlie's voice at not being able to see the dress at this point. She sounds like she's gotten all the pep back in her step, and she shouts a final "I love you!" before heading back down for dinner with the others.

Vaggie sighs. She turns her back to the thick wooden door, and slides down its cold, hard surface, until she's on the floor with her skirt bunched up comically all around her. She crosses her arms over her knees, and leans forward, her head falling into the space between her arms.

How can she possibly tell Charlie what's on her mind now? Her girlfriend had been so enthusiastic about their big day. So excited! How can she possibly ruin all that, by voicing all the fears and worry that have been coursing through her brain like a virus? How the closer the wedding gets, the more scared she's becoming?

The nightmares are back. Roaring back into her consciousness in full force while she's asleep. Sometimes she and Charlie are standing at the altar, and Charlie is about to say, "I do!" But then Adam or Lute, or sometimes even herself, will fly into the chapel, dressed in Exterminator garb, and throw Charlie off the side of that building again. Reminiscent of that time when her dad, not Vaggie, had to catch her from the crumbling hotel.

She hadn't been there to save Charlie. Honestly, she hadn't even been able to save herself. She'd ended up in the hospital for several days, and then Carmilla...

None of that is what she's really worried about, though. All it boils down to is that she's marrying the future queen of Hell. Her, a lowly Exterminator. No, not even that. A cast-out Exterminator, who hadn't even been good enough to do her job correctly. She's going to be the queen-consort for the most powerful person in Hell someday. That fact alone makes her question her self-worth...makes her weak in the knees. Makes her feel like crying.

She's not worth it. She doesn't deserve all this luxury. All this pomp and circumstance. All this importance. Charlie doesn't know who she's tying herself down to. What if their marriage ends up like Lucifer's? What if it's fun for a while, but when the honeymoon phase is over, and she sees Vaggie for who she really is. What if Charlie leaves her like Lilith left Lucifer?

Vaggie buries her head in her knees. She tries not to cry. Tries not to get her salty tears on the dress, but she's only mildly successful. The wedding is in a few days. All of Hell will be in attendance, and maybe even some of Heaven.

And she's never felt so lacking in confidence as she does right now. She doesn't know what to do. Or who to call.

Or maybe she does. Hadn't she...been married before?

Vaggie decides what she needs is perspective. That's what mothers are best at, right? She can't believe she's about to do this. But if not her, then who? If not now, when? The wedding is in a matter of days, damn it! There's not enough time left to question her life choices.

Vaggie picks up her phone, and dials Carmilla's number. She waits patiently for the phone to finish ringing, and when Carmilla doesn't pick up, she leaves a voicemail. Carmilla always gets back to her within 10 minutes, these days. So she waits, still on the floor at the foot of the door, head in her arms. Waiting for a call from her mother to provide a little much-needed perspective.

That still sounds so weird to say.

[luvinescent]

Mismatched Hearts

Pairing: Robb Stark x fem!Reader

Summary: Y/N and Robb have been friends since childhood; the two harboring feelings for one another without the others’ knowledge. When Robb’s mother makes the choice to meddle in his love life by constructing an engagement between the two—Robb is left with guilt at the belief that he has trapped her in an unwanted marriage with him because of his status. Neither one choosing to confess their feelings or address the situation; they do more harm than good towards their friendship and future marriage.

Warnings: uuuh idk none ig fluff + angst

Word count: 3643

Part 1/2

Next

Small and delicate, innocent, and almost ignorant of its surroundings. It stood there, soaking up the little warmth that the small sunbeams the late morning had provided the woods. It stood up on its hind legs, rubbing its face with its white paws. The wee creature was oblivious to the flimsy and slow steps that were approaching from behind. The figure made sure to stay hidden, concentrating on the task at hand. Raising their bow, they stood still with one eye closed as they pulled back the bowstring, walking one step closer and ready to let go—

A mixture of a gasp followed by a grunt had came instead as the girl found herself on the ground; having rolled her ankle funny. The arrow had been let go, but it had flown in the opposite direction and the loud commotion had alerted the creature and made it run away. The girl stood up to her knees, a pout present on her face as she had failed her task. ”Nooooooo,” she extended her frustration, already gearing up to roll her eyes as she heard the laugh she knew very well coming from behind.

“I may be wrong my lady, but I believe you were supposed to shoot the arrow towards the rabbit. Not trip and startle it”. Robb could not contain his laughter at the sight of his long-time best friend still moping on the ground. Huffing, she rose up to her full height, giving him a death stare “I almost had it!” she justified “My foot was the problem this time!”, now referring to her other failed attempts.

Robb smiled, showing off his perfect teeth as he took the bow from Y/N. Surveying it, he turned his back to her and headed in the direction that would lead them back to the courtyard. “I will admit, you have improved. Who knows, maybe your next target can be a wild boar” he teased the girl.

Jogging up, she playfully slapped him on his back “Don’t be mean”. Standing in front of him now, she returns the equal amount of mockery “You haven’t even killed a boar yet”. Rubbing the area she had slapped, Robb pinches Y/N nose—a playful habit he has kept with her since their childhood, “But I have shot many rabbits. And birds. And deers. Would you like a list of my numbers in comparison to your zero?”. Rolling her eyes, she pretended to look away from him in anger, but she couldn’t stop the smile that crept on her face. Robb stood silently, watching her with awe as she stood under some sunlight. Unbeknownst to her, but visible to him, it illuminated her features clearly; to Robb, she was truly a beautiful woman now and no longer the little girl he had grown up with.

 Y/N was taken by surprise (and even Robb was stunned at his actions) when she felt him place his hand upon her face to force her to look back at him. He spoke with a gentle voice, “I only joke. You have improved greatly in the short amount since you picked up that bow”. It was only recently that Y/N had finally convinced her parents to allow her to practice archery. They did not see it as something a lady needed to be doing, but she had been begging for years and they grew tired of it and caved in. Robb was the first person she went to ask for lessons, and Robb was also the first person who had gifted her first bow. Y/N looked up at him, staring into his eyes that she loved very much. But she was never good when it came to her own feelings. And she was never good when it came to moments like this. Looking away quickly and pushing his hand away, she hid her demeanor behind a smirk “You are growing soft on me now, are you Stark?’.

Shaking his head, he laughed as he followed her trudge back to the courtyard, “No, my lady. Not growing. I’ve always had a soft spot for you”.

Loud howling can be heard throughout the courtyard. Many of the servants and Winterfell folks turned in the direction of who was responsible for such attention, but not Jon Snow. From his peripheral vision, he could see Robb and Y/N clearly racing one another, laughing at something said by either one. Finally looking up, he was met with the two-standing right in front of him, out of breath and grinning. “Jon!” Y/N exclaimed “You must settle this debate; cats are better than dogs, right?”. Jon raised an eyebrow, looking to Robb who seemed eager to hear what he had to say “…I don’t believe I have much say in such a matter my lady….”. Y/N lifted her arms in frustration, turning to Robb and poking his chest “You Starks just have a bias towards dogs because of your dire wolves”.

Jon and Robb both shared a chuckle. “I’d be careful with those words, my lady. Greywind or Ghost might hear your favoritism towards kitties and eat you whole in betrayal”, Jon jested. Y/N pulled a face at the thought of her furry friends doing such a thing, “Please. Those two adore me”. Jon looked up to Robb who was staring at you in some trance.

Someone else clearly adores you too, he thought to himself at the sight of his brother.

Sighing loudly, Y/N uttered with dismay “I guess dogs win this round”. Robb glanced between her and his brother, scratching at his neck as his voice trailed off “I guess cats are pretty cool….”. Both Y/N and Jon turned to look at Robb, one with content and the other with surprise.

“Really?” she asked gleefully.

“Really?” Jon asked judgingly.

Robb gave a glare towards his brother, changing his expression once he looked at Y/N “Yeah. Greywind is cool but I guess cats are cooler-“he cleared his throat, obvious to Jon but not Y/N that he was forcing those words out.

Smiling, she clapped her hands together “Welp, that settles it. Another debate that I won”. Turning to Robb, she placed her hand upon his forearm “I must head home now before my father goes crazy. I’ll see you tomorrow”. Walking away, she waved to the two, delivering a “Later Snow!” as her figure disappeared in the distance.

Jon stared at his brother with a look of disrelish, “Gods. You are one lovesick fool. She’s got you wrapped around her pretty finger”. Robb returned his comment with a shove, “Oh, shut it. I just find enjoyment in seeing her happy”. His brother raised an eyebrow at him, “That exactly what someone in love would say”. Robb shook his head and was getting ready to walk away when the next question asked caught him off guard,

“Why not tell her how you feel?”

Robb spun back to face Jon, a clear look of surprise on his face. “How I feel?”. Jon nodded, taking a step towards him, “Tell me brother, what is it exactly that you feel?”

Robb observed Jon closely, his questions processing in his mind. Robb wanted to keep his mouth shut, but some force had opened it up for him “She is my best friend. She is someone who I feel complete happiness with. I can be a room with hundreds of people and her eyes are the only ones I seek out. She’s a beauty that I can’t even explain-“

“Yeah, I think I get it now” Jon said raising a hand to stop Robbs rambling or else the two would probably be out there till night. “So, why not tell her?”

Robb let out a laugh, no humor present at all. “Because, like I said, she’s my best friend. I don’t know if she feels the same, and I don’t want to ruin the one thing that brings bliss into my life”. Jon gawked at his brothers words; he must be stupid and blind to not see Y/N obvious return of feelings. “Robb,” he started with “she likes yo—the girl loves you equally. Just tell he-“.

Jon was taken off guard by the shove he received by his brother, “Don’t pity me and don’t feed me delusional lies”. With that, Robb walked away towards the innermost part of the castle. Jon grumbled in frustration, chasing after his brother who was in clear turmoil, “Robb! Robb! Wait up!”.

Unbeknownst to the both of them, Lady Catelyn had came down in search of Robb. While she did find Robb and her husbands bastard son, she also had found herself with new information regarding her son. Frowning at her sons’ troubles, she had a sense of mother-mode turned on within her. She stood still, wanting to help her son but not knowing how.

It was then that a solution came to her.

Smiling, she turned to one of her trusted lady servants and gave order, “Send message to House Y/L/N. Tell them that I have some important matters to discuss”. The servant scurried away with her orders and Lady Catelyn felt a sense of pride develop within her. Robb was going to be overjoyed with the news she would deliver to him soon.

Catelyn had ushered in her son into his father’s solar. Now standing in front of both his parents, Robb was confused about the urgency until his mother had spoken up and spilled everything. Catelyn expected Robb to be ecstatic and celebrate at the news, but was clearly taken back at the anger that fell upon his face.

“You did what?!”

Eddard was equally and even more taken back by the outburst. Confusion overtook his mind as he turned to his wife, “This feels as though he was not informed on any of this. I thought you said the boy was aware of the plans?”. Robb spoke up before his mother could answer his question “This is the first time I am hearing about an engagement; especially my own. What gave you the idea to make such a decision without my sentiment on the matter?!”

Catelyn raised both hands in the air, one towards her husband and towards her son as she tried to clear Eddards confusion and Robbs furry. “Calm down! You do not speak to me in such a way!” she pointed a finger, “No, he did not know. This was supposed to be a surprise—a good surprise! I thought you’d be happy; you are to marry the girl you love”. Shaking his head, Robb gave his mother a look of shock, asking what she meant by her statement.

Clearing her throat and standing up straight, Catelyn looked off to the side sheepishly “I overheard your conversation with Snow. I thought that as your mother, I would lend a hand and help you get the girl”. Robb looked like he was ready to burst out in curses and Eddard saw to himself to finally step in as man of his household. “That is enough Robb”.

Giving his wife a side glance, he turned back to his first son , “I am sorry your mother went behind your back and did such a thing. I would have intervened quicker had I not been lied to about your knowledge on the matter. But you are at the age where you need to get married. What better match than with the girl that you and this family have known for years. Her father has already agreed to it-“

Robb interrupted his father’s deliverance and spoke loudly “Of course her father agreed! We’re Starks! He practically couldn’t say no in the first place!”.

Eddard gave his son a stern look that made Robb surrender and look away. “I said that is enough!”, Eddard declared harshly “You are to marry the Y/L/N girl and that is final!”. Robb marched out of the room in displeasure; the emotion not towards Y/N— that can never be a thing. He was angry at himself because now she is forced to wed him due to his status as future Lord of Winterfell. His friendship with her and his last name has essentially trapped her.

Simultaneously, a similar affair was taking place in the household of Y/L/N’s. Rising from her chair, Y/N expressed in distress “Marriage?!”. Both her mother and father looked at one another dumbfounded. Surveying her daughter, Lady Y/L/N raised her glass of wine to her mouth, “Darling, I figured that you knew something like this would come. Your brother and sister were of your age when they got married”. Shaking her head vigorously, Y/N was quick to defend herself “Yes, but they knew their partners beforehand! They were not thrown of news of an established engagement to someone they did not know of on a random morning!”. Her father poured himself another glass of wine as he gave his daughter a bemused look, “Who says you don’t already know them? From what I understand, you and that Stark boy have been friends since you stood up to my knee in height”.

Y/N groaned in annoyance “That’s not the point! How could you agree-“, cutting herself off, she whipped her head towards her parents so fast it gave her whiplash. She ignored the pain as her heart swelled up in nerves instead, “…. Stark? Did you say Stark?”. Nodding his head, her father answered her question “Yes. The Stark boy—Ed’s eldest son, Robb. I believe he’d make a fine husband for you” cocking his eyebrow, he continued “His mother gave the proposal at just the perfect time. Your mother and I were just about set on making arrangements between you and one of Lord Frey’s sons”.

Y/N was quick to take note of her possible alterative future and was irked at the thought of her parents sending her off to the Riverlands. But she had more consuming thoughts in her mind at the time. Sitting back down in her chair shrinkingly, she looked up at both her parents “… And you are sure it is Robb I am betrothed to?”

Her mother gave her a funny look and nodded her head slowly “Yes?... Unless you had another Stark boy in mind? The only two other sons I can think of aren’t even close to your age, but maybe we can try to settle an agree-“. Y/N was quick to cut her mother off, horrified and blushing deeply “No! Robb is who I want—I mean, not “want” in a literal sense. I mean, he is a good husband candidate. He comes from a good family, and he is kind, handsome, funny…”. Y/N trailed off her words as she realized she wasn’t doing a good job at acting nonchalant. Her mother grinned, taking her daughters hand in her own and chuckling softly “I take it that you fancy both the betrothal and Robb as well?”. Y/N looked away, turning her eyes downward towards the ground, not answering her mother and blushing even more.

Her father’s laughter broke the silence in the room, “Would you look at that Y/M/N? The girls gone as quiet as a mouse and as red as a tomato!”. Y/N face burnt up even more as her father continued laughing and her mother uttered something along the lines of “You were never good at hiding your feelings” and “It was obvious to everyone since you two were young”. Standing up sharply, Y/N treaded out the room hastily. Her stomach was in shambles at the idea of her now taking on a new chapter in her life. She would soon gain the title of a wife and Lady of Winterfell. While it was nerve wrecking and frightening scenario; even she could not stop the smile that was forming on her face. She was to share her new life with Robb.

Three days later, Robb stood in the castle yard; along with him was Jon and Theon Greyjoy, ward of Eddard Stark. He was practicing his archery, completely silent and obviously deep in thought. Jon gave Theon a pointed look when he snickered at Robb’s dismay. The news of his betrothal to Lady Y/N had been shared and was now known by everyone in Winterfell, as well as other noble houses across Westeros. Theon was the first to speak up, “Trouble in paradise?” he chuckled to himself “You’re not even married yet and you’re already in martial distress”. Jon shoved Theon back as Robb whipped around, his weapon held tightly in his hands. “He’s just being an idiot,” his brother tried covering for Theon “calm down. Is everything truly okay Robb?”

Robb was about throw a crass remark when Theon let out a low whistle, “Would you look who it is. Your pretty bride to be is here”. And he was right because from a short distance was Y/N walking towards the trio, an obvious shy smile present on her face. Once stood in front of them, she greeted them individually. “Snow. Greyjoy.”, looking towards Robb, she cleared her throat and tried her best to hold her composure, “Robb”. The first two acknowledged her presence, while Robb stood still and gave no word as he stared. Theon, being the mischief maker he is, was quick to ignore the tension and address a certain matter, “Congratulations on your engagement, my lady. You must be so excited”. Jon cringed internally at the look Robb had given to Theon. Fortunately, Y/N had not seen the interaction and smiled bashfully at the question, “Yes, uh, thank you. It is still something I am trying to comprehend…”. Turning her attention to Robb, she fulfilled the reason of why she came over here in the first place. “Can I talk to you?”.

Robb did not have time to answer as Theon grabbed Snow by the neck, forcing him to walk a couple steps away, “Come on Snow. Let’s give these two lovebirds some space”.

Once the two were out of earshot, Y/N gazed up at Robb and softly spoke “Hi...”. Robb returned her greeting with a silent “Hey…”. Y/N clasped her hands together as she fumbled with her fingers, “So…we are to be married”. Robb did not say anything but simply nodded at her statement. Taking a deep breath, she carried on “It is a bit anxious making, is it not?”. Robb once again did not say a word, choosing to nod once more. Before he could open his mouth to voice his mind, Y/N gave a look of surprise. “Oh! I almost forgot”.

Unfolding a handkerchief that Robb took notice she had the entire time, Y/N raised it up with both hands to present to him. “I made you this”. Carefully, Robb took the cloth from her hands and was instantly filled with deep affection once he noticed the stitching. Y/N grinned proudly as he examined his gift, “It’s your house’s sigil. I must say, stitching a dire wolf was hard labor—I almost went mad and cried out in frustration multiple times”, she laughed earnestly, “But, I think I did a pretty good job. Do you not agree?”.

Waiting for a yes or no, Y/N was taken back by Robbs whisper of “...You didn’t have to”. She was quick to shake her head and correct him, “But I wanted to”, now nodding her head instead. Robb felt sick and angry at her words; words he believed were lies. He wished for such thoughts to go away, so that he could truly indulge in the warm-heartedness that was her and her gift. But insecurity had struck him.

She probably feels obligated to do such things. He thought to himself. My mother probably even asked her to do this.

Robb crumbled up the cloth and placed it back in Y/N hand, “No, you did not have to. I never asked you to do this and I don’t need it”. With that, he turned his back and stormed away. If Robb had stayed just a second longer, he would have noticed the heartbroken look that fell upon her face. Theon was quick to follow after the future lord of Winterfell, casting a quick glance at the down casted girl as he passed her. Jon walked up slowly towards her; afraid that she might just break down right there in the middle of the yard.

“Are you okay?”, he asks with genuine concern. Y/N cleared her face and put on a fake smile, “Uh, yeah. I am okay. Is there something going on with him?” she questioned. Robb has never spoken or acted that way towards her. Jon responded to her question with honesty, placing a hand upon her shoulder “He hasn’t been so happy these last few days. I believe the engagement is just a lot for him to take it”. While Jons reasoning did make sense, Y/N owns insecurities had started to form in her head.

If he hasn’t been happy since the engagement was announced, then he’s not happy with it all.

She cursed herself internally; how foolish of her to have thought of only her own fantasies coming true and not considering the other possibilities. Robb did not want to marry her.

Choking back tears, she nodded her head and looked away “Yeah. Yeah. You are probably right,” she said falsely. Holding up the handkerchief, she placed it into Jons hands, “You can have this. I don’t have much need for it”. Noticing the sigil, Jon winced slightly, “… I’m not a Stark-“

“Then burn it! I don’t care, just take it away from me!”. Y/N had finally broken down as tears started to fall from her eyes. She quickly turned away and scurried off as she tried not to bring any attention towards herself.

Jon could only stare in sorrow at his friends suffering and his brothers as well. He wished he could intervene somehow, but this was something that Robb and Y/N needed to work out on their own.

[star-girl69]

My Heart Never Knows

Jake Sully x Neytiri x Fem!Reader

—-

a/n: i’m currently in my horrible writing era so next chapter we’re time skipping to where everyone is… slightly more happy. anyways sorry for this sucking and beings so short but i hope you all enjoy!!

warnings: swearing, mentions of death, tell me if i missed anything!!

Chapter Thirteen- The Web Falls

—-

“You want me to fly? On one of those?”

Ikran are fantastic beasts, and you have heard about them even by the sea. They dwell in the forest, so you’re sure they are not happy here- but they’re loyal.

Anyone can ride an ilu, but you have to fight to ride an ikran.

“Come on, sweetheart. It’s not so scary. Promise.”

“It flys, like a tsurak, no?” Neytiri asks, taking your hand.

Date night, Jake says, time away from the kids, from the world. And you had agreed wholeheartedly- but you did not want to fall to your death. Your life was falling into place, now, perfect. Why would you risk ending it?

“I prefer ilu.”

Jake throws his head back with a smile, shaking his head.

“It’ll be fun. Come here, this is Bob.”

Neytiri practically pushes you towards Jake and his ikran, and you hiss and fall forward.

“This is Bob.” Jake presses his hand to Bob’s jaw.

“Bob?” you frown, tongue tripping over the odd word.

“Human name,” Jake explains, taking your hand. “Come on,” he urges, and presses your hand against the creature before you can protest.

But, instead of being torn into two, eaten alive by this strange thing, his skin is simply warm beneath yours.

You think the forest takes to you quite well.

—-

The days past, and like stones in your heart, your guilt weighs on you.

You should tell Jake and Neytiri. You should tell them what their son has done, but- every time he sees you, he looks at you, wordlessly asks if you’ve told yet.

And you don’t want to see the disappointment on his face when you cannot tell him no.

You thought your days of feeling like a storm were over, you thought feelings swelling under your skin were a thing of the past.

But now, you can feel it under your skin, like a bruise forming, blood rising under your skin. The fear that one day you will burst with it.

You try to forget, because that has always been the best remedy, but you can’t. You wonder how much longer you can live like this, with stones in your heart and an emptiness under your ribs.

It is like Lo’ak has spun a web, mixing lies and truth until the two are indistinguishable. Day by day, more people are drawn in, more people become worried for him. And he just keeps winding. You think he might actually keep it from falling- in the day you are tortured by the guilt.

Until it falls, breaks all around you, falling like leaves from a great tree. Like droplets from a waterfall, like blood from a wound.

—-

The procession is a somber one, Tonowari leading Tsireya, Neteyam, Ao’nung, and Lo’ak to the mauri. Ronal follows them, and you can see the disappointment on her face from where you are.

“Come,” you urge Jake and Neytiri, and the two follows you. They put on a strong image, square their shoulders, but they are your mates. You can feel the uneasiness rolling off of them. “Ronal!” you call as she yells at Tsireya, and her eyes narrow at you.

“And you,” Tonowari motions to Lo’ak, and you find your place standing behind him. “Son of a great warrior. Who has been taught better.”

“Payakin saved my life, sir. You don’t know him.”

You flinch. But Tonowari only nods, taking in the disrespect.

“Sit,” he says, “sit.” When no one does, his anger turns. “Sit down!” he shouts, fire in his voice, and you find yourself taking a knee as well.

He brings his hands to his mouth, moving them quick and down when he exhales, expelling his anger. Ronal paces behind him.

“Hear my words, boy. In the days of the first songs, the tulkun fought amongst themselves. For territory, and for revenge. But they came to believe that killing- no matter how justified- only brings more killing.”

He speaks sharp and quick, almost urging the words in the air to turn thin and small, slide into Lo’ak’s ears, into his brain, make him understand.

“So, all killing was forbidden. This is the tulkun way. Pakakan is a killer and so, he is outcast.”

Silence fills the mauri, and you spare a glance behind you. Jake, bending over, hands on his knees, Neytiri taking a knee like you. You want to grab their hands, tell them it will all be okay.

“I’m sorry sir, but you are wrong.”

“Lo’ak!” Neytiri hisses, “you are speaking to the Olo’eykan.”

“But-”

“That’s enough!” Jake shouts, and even you flinch at his hard voice. He is so tender with you, hands so sweet, it is hard to remember that he is Toruk Macto. A warrior.

You see Lo’ak shake his head. “I know what I know.”

Ronal hisses, and Jake moves to go past you, but you beat him to it.

“Lo’ak,” you say, hand around his bicep. “You must understand, it is for your safety. That is what we all want. For you to be well,”

He doesn’t look at you. “I know what you said. But-”

“Said?” Ronal asks, stopping her pacing. You look up to find her eyes narrowed onto you, and fear strikes onto your heart. “You knew?”

You breaths do not come easy, and when you stand, it is on shaky heads.

“Only since last night! I- I did not know what to do, Ronal, Jake, Neytiri. I did not think he- I tried to-”

“I told her.”

You nod at Tsireya’s words, eyes flicking around the room, begging for a scrap of mercy.

“I just wanted to help, yes?”

Ronal only hisses and turns away. You feel something wet slide down your face. You turn, frantic now, because the fall of Lo’ak’s web has come to rest on your shoulders.

“J-Jake, Neytiri, you-”

Jake shakes his head, but his eyes quickly fall from you to Lo’ak.

“Why wouldn’t you listen to her, huh?”

Lo’ak looks at his father over his shoulder. “Why? I-”

“Because she’s your mother, boy!”

Through the silence, that seems to take a physical form, the only eyes you can bring yourself to meet is Ronal’s.

Briefly, in the moment where you inhaled and shut your eyes, you hoped she would be looking at you with a smile. Happy, overjoyed. She loves you.

Instead, you only see the coldness of betrayal.

“Ronal-”

“No. You- no. No,” Her words are carved of an arrow, edges serrated, made to kill, made to hurt.

It is like a knife in your heart, like poison on your mouth, and your sister has always kept your chest from caving in and without her you cannot breathe.

—-

taglist:

@sully-stick-together @corrupt-cadaver420 @jadynchronicle @imthefunniestpersonalive @fangil101 @mashiromochi @rey26 @soothinghummerz @myheartfollower @pwallettes @melodykisses @ghoulfiendz @fanboyluvr @itsyaspwr @khaleesihavilliard @capbrie @nothingfuninthislife @faceaeter @thetrashindrakensroom @makeup-stuff-and-such @my-dearest-agent @miyamuraaaa @xoxovienna @arschbohrer @amazingaries @ssc7514 @milf-lover-23 @w3ird11 @littlexscarletxwitch @tiajk @kuldren @blackgirlwriting @tojigirl @trulyrogers @aeslenya @3okutos-3ig-toe @peterparkeeperer @ambria @homeispandora @hxgemxscles @ripnevillestrevor @amiets2 @reallysparklychaos @ok-boke @dumb-fawkin-bitch @nerd-squad-headquarters

[toyouhellohowareyou]

Me to the group chat: Do you want a directors cut for Hero of Hyrule?

Chat: YES

So uh, okay, here you go.

Note this contains excerpts from the original fic which is horror I guess? It gets dark, it gets gory. You have been warned.

That being said I'm really pleased with how it turned out and so give it a look if you enjoy hurting the dowfall boys.

So this starts later than Hyrule’s, with Legend running into the room. He’s magic sensitive but in a different way to Hyrule. With Hyrule the off feeling is internal, with Legend he can sense it in the surroundings.

It’s familiar but only in an instinctual way until later when it clicks.

The pace is frantic, basically the whole fic. Sentences are short and choppy or have lots of commas when they’re longer.

Legend stumbles over raised stone, tripping and recovering and going faster. Searching for a cell, or a seal, or some power hungry villain, and Hyrule, Hyrule. Something is wrong. He hits stone again, taller this time, running straight into it. A block of some kind rather than a wall, and he scrambles to reach on top of it. 

Hyrule, Hyrule is a recurring mantra, as is something being wrong as he can’t articulate what it is yet.

Skip had a comment while betaing about linking back to previous experience and expectations, there’s some of that in a few places. Also the altar is tall and I had to recalibrate what I saw in my head a couple of times lol.

Hyrule! Hyrule! He’s alive. See, see? He could survive that. He must have healed or it wasn’t so bad or there was a fairy or—

[]

“I think I’m dead,” Hyrule voices Legend’s worst fear.

Except he’s not! Clearly he’s not! He’s just confused or in shock because he’s here and talking and, “Wh—no. No. Hyrule, I’m holding your hand, you’re alive, stay with me, okay?”

He knows deep down he shouldn’t be alive and instead of celebrating that he is, he’s trying to justify it to himself.

“But the blood,” the boy whispers back, and Legend can’t see it but he can smell it, sweat and fear and the metallic reek of warm blood and carved flesh, like a butchered animal.

This is just me making it worse lol. Also the hunted animal motif with the downfall boys.

“What wakes?”

“I’m sorry,” the boy pulls away.

He cannot bear it.

I low-key love that little bit.

“Sorry for what?” his hands search desperately, trying to find Hyrule again, to know this isn’t some terrifying dream.

Dream motifs for Legend~

“You know it,” Hyrule says, so gently, so kindly, and a hand in the dark cups Legend’s cheek, sticky with blood, “You know it, don’t you? You saw that wound. Nothing could survive that.”

“You’re not a thing,” Legend objects to the wrong thing, but it’s the only thing he trusts to be true. Is this real? If he plays the song will he wake up? What has been lost? The dark magic lies over them, smothering, sickening. Hyrule cannot be dead, Hyrule could not have survived. 

[]

He is a nightmare.

Dreams again. Because he knows there was something untrue about Hyrule surviving from the start.

The grip on Legend’s face tightens, digging in nails behind his jaw and he’s dragged forward against the altar as Hyrule jerks back.

Me with my hand on my jaw figuring out how tightly you could hold someone like that.

“No, No, you’re not dead, I’m touching you, you have a pulse—” he murmurs, blinking away tears as he shifts his fingers on Hyrule’s wrist to feel it better. He’s alive, he’s alive. There was, there was a fairy or something and he survived and—

Still frantic

And then just after this he gets his confirmation Hyrule had indeed died.

There’s tear tracks down his cheeks, outlining the contours of his bloody face with that death pale skin beneath.

I added tear tracks because I am mean. They weren’t in the original, but Hyrule couldn’t see them on himself.

Legend gives a choked whimper of loss, of despair. He died… he died afraid and alone. Legend failed the most important task he’s ever been given.

They ripped him open to die in the dark, they ripped him open and still his heart beats. They are gone, some fled, some dead by their swords, and a true Curse remains.

It—this not-Hyrule—looks pleased, puffing itself up at his horror.

So, this is all Legend POV, and you can tell who/what he thinks is in Hyrule by the pronoun he uses. ‘It’ is when he doesn’t know, ‘he’ for Hyrule, and ‘He’ (proper noun) for Ganon.

Also Skip, ‘where are they’? lol, so there’s a throwaway line saying they ran off.

So we’ve come from frantic to gutted.

“I—” Legend knows he’s right, he saved Warriors in the moment, an instinct to prevent the immediate death. Had they known, Wars would have chosen Hyrule, had he known… His eyes flick back to those twin tear stains, and some selfish, shameful little corner of his mind whispers he would have too.

He did not, and Hyrule is dead, and the world will never be right again. He will carry him forever with his other mistakes and failures and ghosts.

Nyastri while betaing ‘More guilt?’ Me ‘Okay, bet’

Also, contrast between the Wars part, Legend shoots straight to guilt and despair and ‘it’s happened again’

It looks at him with some fondly cruel expression, its grip still unyielding. A Monster. Dead eyes watch his as it keeps his chin up and reaches back inside Hyrule’s chest to the shattered bone and viscera and twitching organs within.

No, no, no, no—

He sobs in horror and it hushes him like a child, reaching forward to smear the gore over his face like a twisted, doting comfort, tracing his tears.

He’s shaking so badly.

“Smell it.”

Legend just sobs again and tries to twist out of that grip, to pull away, but the corpse’s grip is too strong, too tight. The pin pricks of his nails and the smear of flesh burn with that corrupt, rotting magic, he breathes it into his blood and flesh and bones, into his mind and soul. It will not let him go. He feels like that little rabbit boy again, with an adult’s too rough grip on him, walking him to his death. It watches him like a predator.

There’s a whole bunch of throwbacks to Legend’s early quests. Also dark magic being semi toxic/corruptive and what starts just as smothering in the atmosphere is not seeping into him. Also, also we are Keepin’ It Weird between the downfall boys. 

Warriors takes a step closer to them, bringing up his sword ready to plunge it into Hyrule’s chest. Legend whimpers in spite of himself.

Don’t hurt Hyrule.

So it was interesting having just the dialogue and actions and then having to figure out the thought process, and this was one of the more interesting ones. What did that little whimper mean? Was it fear, despair, was he just making a noise? 

And I thought it was him not wanting to see Hyrule hurt more. Hyrule being dead hasn’t internalised yet.

“Oh, were you trying to say something?” Hyrule-not-Hyrule asks in his best ‘visiting a Princess’ voice “Go on. You can do it.”

He manages a little shake of his head, he doesn’t dare open his mouth, not with the hand pressed so tightly against it. Not with the blood, there’s so much blood, he can’t breathe without smelling it. Settling in his lungs like the guilt and loss in his gut.

The smile Hyrule gives him sets the rabbit in him to freeze in fear. He should not have drawn its attention back to him.

“Aw, don’t be shy,” a voice that sounds like his playful, teasing little brother insists and it scoops more blood from its chest and rubs it into Legend’s face.

Its smile shows bloody teeth.

I love scary, chipper Hyrule. So condescending and infantasing. Hyrule is ‘dead’, but it’s Legend it’s breaking. There’s a line in King of Hyrule here about him thinking the blood around his mouth suits him which is so delightful.

Suddenly fingers are forcing their way past his lips, gripping his jaw and wedging between his teeth. They’re cold and dead in his mouth, firmly and confidently pressing his jaws open and tongue down. He tastes the blood on its hands, the magic in it claws and coils around his own.

He’s shaking, weak and panicked and terrified, and it crams the palmful of gore into his mouth, patting its fingers over his tongue before removing the other hand and forcing his mouth shut. He’s screaming behind his teeth, gagging and choking and he has to get it out, has to get it out. It’s all he can taste, all he can smell, Hyrule’s corpse is all he can see. The magic of it tears at him as it sinks in, burning like acid, carelessly picking away at his weave of his soul. Hyrule’s magic all twisted and shattered and broken so it cuts, and another, horribly, terrifyingly familiar.

So this is probably one of, if not the, last paragraph I wrote because it’s The Worst Thing that happens to Leggy. And then Skip told me (rightly) ‘make it worse’ so I did lol. Also a little further on Skip had the comment of ‘what’s holding him there aside from just grabbing him’ and all the dark magic stuff and its effect on Legend got dialled up. Hyrule’s full on manhandling him. This is such a quick scene in both Hyrule and Wars’ POVs, but it’s actually fairly long in Legend’s, being forced to swallow that was horrific.

We’re past the guilt phase and just into kind of paralysed and breaking.

“You have to,” Hyrule’s voice says with monstrous kindness, “You don’t want me to put more in there, do you?”

The Hyrule POV is ‘says kindly’ but ya know

It clamps his nose shut and he can’t breathe, can’t look away, he gags, then forces himself to swallow obediently, something hard scrapes all the way down. The toxic rot of it settling inside of him, seeping through him from the inside out.

Yeah, this is the worst in Legend’s POV for obvious reasons. Also Legend shaking, being able to look away, and can’t stop tasting blood recurs a lot. That’s what he’s noticing.

There’s spots in his vision and distantly he hears someone call it a monster, insist it’s not Hyrule.

Legend whines a high pitched, broken sound, terrified to open his mouth again.

Every version interprets this differently. For Hyrule it’s agreement, for Wars it’s grief, for Legend he’s just making noise, it’s just kind of ‘upset’.

“You can taste it, right? You can tell?”

He can. That familiar wrongness, the part of him that isn’t tranced like a pinned rabbit screams in the back of his mind.

This is when Legend places consciously who it is.

Hyrule, oh Hyrule.

We’re back to that. It’s all about Hyrule.

“He was being overly simplistic. It wasn’t a curse. It was a soul. But it’s gone now. It has woken.”

Legend jerks in its grip and it laughs at him, Hyrule’s joyful chime all twisted and stuttering.

This is when Legend actually starts to react the the knowledge and unfreeze.

“Yes, brave one,” it, He, croons at him, His grip unyielding “that’s what the ashes were for. Except I didn’t have enough of a body yet to really inhabit, so I borrowed this one. Oh, he bled so nicely for me. It was beautiful.”

Panic now, panic because he knows, he knows this magic, he knows those intonations spoken with Hyrule’s tongue.

He’s here, He’s here and He killed Hyrule, and He has him.

Ganon.

First instance of ‘He’ for Ganon. And an old, old nightmare manifesting.

“Didn’t even have to tie him down,” He says gleefully. “He only woke up once during the whole thing, and I guess he figured you’d left him for dead, because he just laid back down. Placid as a lamb, that one, in the end,” the corpse’s thumb strokes his cheek, “So easy, when he realised he couldn’t do anything to stop what had already been started…”

Rulie. Rulie. Was he scared? Did he die this afraid? He should have been there, he should have saved him, how could he let him die alone? He was supposed to be his big brother. They tore him open and let a monster crawl into his corpse.

Wars POV, he went to anger and ‘Hyrule wouldn’t take it lying down’ etc. Legend is just despair and guilt.

‘Tore him open’ recurs in a couple of different ways. This is my favourite.

Legend thrashes, tears at Hyrule’s (he’s dead, but they’re his, they’re his) wrists with his nails. Ganon will kill them all, he’ll lose them all. This is what he’s for, what he’s always been for. He’s supposed to fight Him. He can’t do it, he needs to get away.

So, when I write Legend I tend to have him believe he is necessary, he doesn’t have to like it but his reason for being, the only reason he was born at all, is because the hero was needed for Hyrule. Ganon is here? This is your purpose, get to the killing, Hero boy. He doesn’t consider the others for a moment. But he is so afraid and broken right now.

Also the stealing/violation of Ganon using Hyrule’s body

Abruptly He lets him go, that unyielding grip from his face and jaw vanishing in an instant as Ganon leaps from the altar and lands with a sickening crunch of bone. Legend drops like his strings have been cut and retches up blood and bile and everything else in his stomach. Then again, and again. He curls up on himself, shaking, he’s going to shake himself apart. His stomach twists and he gags again, he can still smell the blood, he can still taste the blood. He will never be free of it.

Finally gets to spew! Yay! More shaking.

He has to get up. His streaming eyes crack open.

The others are yelling, scared and desperate. The others!

lol, remember them? Legend doesn’t notice anything that’s not right in front of him for this whole thing. There’s a line where Wars tells Ganon to kill Legend, and Legend doesn’t notice it at all. He misses most of that conversation while throwing up.

Legend uncurls and staggers up on to his knees, spitting out blood and bile and gore, gagging and retching again, only to realise those dead eyes are back on him and He looks so pleased.

Legend freezes, a rabbit caught in a spotlight. He’s coming for him again, bearing those bloodstained teeth in delight.

Okay, dick move by Wars siccing him back on Legend though. I mean, it worked, but still!

It’s hurting him, it’s hurting Hyrule (Hyrule’s dead), it has to stop, he can’t let it keep hurting him. Defiling his corpse. Stop smiling at him like Rule. Stop laughing like that boy when he’s all torn to pieces.

The blade presses into his neck.

He has to, he has to—

Continuing on this being Legend’s purpose, and struggling to internalise Hyrule being dead. He hasn’t had time to process anything at all. Also, you’ve got one of the emotional turning points on this line.

It strokes his cheek and Hyrule’s face looks at him with such fondness. With that same otherworldly adoration and possessiveness he only catches glimpses of in rare moments when magic is thick in the air and the day is dying. 

Everything Legend has ever loved, has loved him so much in return.

I maintain this, for better or worse, beings, especially powerful non-human ones, adore Legend. 

The corpse’s hand cradles Legend’s cheek, just like Hyrule did on the worst nights, like he did after the worst hurts. Something in him breaks. In spite of himself he leans into it, it feels familiar. He doesn’t care. He misses Hyrule, he wants him back so badly.

Something kinda breaks. He’s not thinking about it, he just wants comfort and what does it matter if it’s false?

“See?” Warriors asks, and Legend closes his eyes as Hyrule snarls. A stupid, foolish thing, but just for a moment he can pretend, he can feel it’s his brother beside him still.

“I don’t think he’s really dead. You’re not acting like… you’re evil, sure, but Ganon has always been more concerned with taking over the world than with… destroying us personally,” Wars argues. White noise.

“I’m not—”

Hyrule, Hyrule, oh Hyrule…

Hyrule, Hyrule again, and he starts to believe he might actually be in there and it’s not just make believe.

“Or not destroying us,” Warriors says, “Look at the way you’re holding him.”

The fingers twitch against his cheek, he’s pulled a little closer.

“I don’t— I SHOULD KILL YOU.”

“But you won’t,” Legend rasps, opening his eyes.

Hyrule loves him.

Hyrule wouldn’t hurt him.

Hyrule would never let Ganon have him.

We’ll see how he feels after King part 3 but it’s what Legend believes in the moment.

“YOU CAN’T,” Hyrule roars, “HE IS MINE.”

Hyrule POV: ‘Hyrule’s body’ says this Legend POV: ‘Hyrule’ says it Warriors POV: ‘Ganon’ says it Contrast between their thoughts on it.

“There you are,” his Hyrule. That beautiful, bright, fae-kissed boy. He rests his hand on the one cupping his cheek.

Gotta keep it a little weird between the downfall boys. He’s pulling himself back together. Also I write out of order, so part of the editing was making sure the emotional progression was coherent lol. 

He knows what he has to do, the very purpose for which he was born into this world.

Again, Legend and the point of his existence, saving Hyrule, killing Ganon.

He forces himself to his feet, tangling his fingers with Hyrule’s, head and jaw still aching from the creature’s hold, throat burning and stomach roiling. He can still feel the fingers on his tongue, the flesh caught in his teeth. He lifts his bloody, gore and tear stained face and raises his chin to the monster who hurt his Hyrule.

He will kill it as many times as it takes.

Welcome back to the fucking hero of Legend.

He doesn’t need to say the words, he never needed to say the words, the Triforce burns into your soul, picks it apart and unravels it to reflect what it finds there.

There's a bit of ‘they’re not so different’ contract between the overwhelming negative feeling dark magic before and the overwhelming Triforce now. It could absolutely destroy him, but Legend just surrenders to it. It’s familiar.

he wishes Hyrule would see, and those dead eyes turn to him.

Triforce grants this little desire too

Light overtakes him.

Hyrule’s outro fades to darkness, Legend’s fades to light.

Then everything fades.

The last line is the same in both.

Woo, that’s a lot of words. Hope you enjoy, this was a fun fic to write. I don’t usually go all out on the visceral-ness of it, but I had a blast. Thanks again @rebornofstars and @nyastri

[blorbologist]

🖤💚

for the unpopular opinions asks

:DD Thank you! You get Percy rambles because that's where the brain goes past midnight <3

🖤: Which character is not as morally good as everyone else seems to think?

Very, very quietly: my yearly reminder to everyone that Percy knew what he was doing when he invented Gun. The entire character concept, per Taliesin, is 'what the fuck could motivate someone to make something this awful'. He did not invent Gun to free Whitestone, he did not invent Gun to rid the world of terrible evil, he invented Gun because he was a terrified and hurt and furious teenager who did not care what consequences there were to his actions so long as he maybe, possibly, might be able to kill some of the people responsible for his family's deaths. Once it does hit him that he will have to live with the consequences, that others will live with this same pain because of the havoc firearms can sow, he definitely feels awful! And wants to undo it as best he can! But it remains that he was a deeply selfish character.

And still is! No Mercy Percy is a fun meme and all, but he really leans into a lot of needless cruelty when he's scrambling for control. Which pops up again even after the Briarwoods arc is all done with - he is absolutely furious at Scanlan and some of what he mildly brings up to Vex is horrifying shit to say you'd do to a friend.

Anyways he's perfectly in character in C3 and I will die on this hill. And get raised as an undead by Delilah because PERCY WAS FUCKING RIGHT ABOUT THE WHOLE THING -

💚: What does everyone else get wrong about your favorite character?

OK, so I know we (by we I mean me) all love to point at Percy and go 'this man is autistic please let him infodump about the Feywild/clocks/engineering stupid dragon traps'. But there is a really good reason why everyone was shocked by his backstory reveal in C1, and why he's got so few lines in the first two episodes of TLOVM, and that's because he's pretty fucking quiet. And it's something I didn't fully appreciate until recently, so it's really understandable how often it trips people up!

The main thing is that while Lord de Rolo is usually a man of few words, those words are fucking bangers. While a lot of Vax's famous lines tend to be part of a long Shakespearian ramble (which I love), Percy, as a Taliesin character, is a master of the one-liner. Which tends to get over-represented in our memory compared to how often he says very little at all!

Percy often gets wordy when he has a space to do so (a debate with Keyleth, a bit of Whitestone lore Taliesin wants to yell about, nerding out with Tary who is importantly nerding out right back)... and when he's talking to Vex. God he will not shut up when he's one-on-one with Vex. In his conversations with other characters (Vax and Keyleth namely) he usually keeps his input short unless he's doing some arguing. But with Vex? Just won't stop.

So while I do think infodumping can be compliant with canon Percy, he needs to either be doing it in tandem with someone else (he and Keyleth or Tary being little weirdos), he has to have a solid excuse to indulge in it and feel justified, or he and Vex are alone. (Cass can probably get him to infodump, but given her nature as an NPC there isn't much textual evidence alas.)

Ask me about my unpopular opinions!

[gloriousburden]

Dw about the long response!! I'm happy to read everything :) And goodness I agree on so many levels! I ended up criticizing so much I had to cut this a little short, since I often start rambling in between, but … What got to me the most were these aspects that were either treated poorly or weren’t thought of at all (You might’ve seen these already so … U don’t have to answer, again, hh ((though I am happy to hear your thoughts if you have anything to say or just thought of stuff!))):

Loki’s heritage - I … I don’t know man. I guess we don’t care he’s a frost giant. That definitely didn’t mess him up. No. Not a mention of what happened while he was exiled or when he was with Thanos. These are such big events in his life. Like, enormously big. (Also him trying to end it at the end of Thor 1... man...) It’s trauma after trauma, and in the Avengers and TDW it’s quite easy to see how they affected him too, since he is so different compared to Thor 1. And no, I don’t mean to say he was an innocent baby before ofc - you already tackled that argument on another post quite well, and I’d like to add that it’s literally how he AND Thor grew up. It’s not just Loki. Sure after the trip to Midgard Thor comes back different since he learned shit but before that?? We saw how Thor acted. They took from Odin, afterall, who participated in numerous wars - it’s obvious. They’re morally gray characters - both Loki and Thor. And what made it worse is that Thor and Odin’s wrongdoings were “justified” while the moment Loki did anything he got all types of repercussions - which all of them should’ve had really. You're putting three people together, all of them made similar mistakes but only one of them is getting yelled at. Everytime. And the other two are praised for it. Why can Thor and Odin do it and he can't? If the heroes do it it's for the greater good ... but Loki's a monster, right?

TVA and just … Sylvie and Mobius. A mess. I actually didn’t like the concept of the TVA a lot, and the whole storyline in general but I won’t get into that or else it turns too long - so I’ll just focus on these two and some of Loki’s aspects. He just … “opens up” to these guys. When he … just came from an awful background. Family trauma, him being a Jotunn (another thing they fucked up, no magic? why isn’t he blue then) and all the shit he went through with Thanos. He’s captive yet again. Like everything is just repeating - I think that’d be quite traumatic and he surely wouldn’t talk about anything with them. Also whenever he spoke about his “troubles” it just felt like it was more to explain it to the viewers rather than the characters? Like it wasn’t subtle and sometimes it just felt out of place for me. Could be that I don’t remember well, but still. What was allat. Idk how to explain, I hope you get it lol

While I won’t deny some moments with Mobius did make me grin because Owen Wilson just brings a smile to my face, it’s… Yeah, no. How is Loki already “opening up” to this guy. Why is he letting him do all of that. What’s going on. He’s one of your captors. CAPTORS. Wtf. I think you also covered this in another ask. Sorry if I'm repeating things hh

Sylvie I don’t even know how to go in that argument. I was devastated. I don’t think I have the words. Not only was everything so fast and I despised this weird toxic self-cest ship because … Wtf. Not to mention how quick it all was, they jumped to a "romantic" route after what, 1 or 2 conversations and Loki suddenly "catches feelings" for someone who's an alternate version of himself (which let's be honest it's only because they decided Sylvie was going to be a woman, but they had to mess that up too - another concept they handled HORRIBLY since Loki's gender is fluid and it shouldn't be so shocking for her to be female?? Especially to him and all Loki's variants?? Why is it even an argument!! I know I shouldn’t be surprised because it’s Disney and Marvel but fuck!! [[not even sure anymore since I read that Sylvie cannot shapeshift… Idk if it’s true, again doesn’t make any sense]]) which by itself is so illogical and makes no damn sense. Most shows just handle romance and relationships like ass and I can’t believe people actually like it. Especially since this is all … Toxic?? Not even romance. Gosh I have no words because of how messy it all was.

Also little observation, I’m a little slow and I don’t know if someone mentioned this already but right at the beginning of the series the introduction is almost symbolic in a sense, lol. He’s shown with shorter and different hair compared to the Avengers, which might seem little, don't get me wrong, but … still. Maybe I’m picky with details, however it is already a change. Then, some moments later, he’s shed of his Asgardian fit too and placed in a variant uniform. Again, obvious things. But really, they decided to just. Pick his character and make … a complete new one. It’s like making an OC after putting so many headcanons on a character that it’s not even THAT character anymore, it’s just… An OC. Definitely not voluntary, it just something I noticed lol

And clearly they show it later in the episode that it’s exactly what happens. He’s just mocked continuously, which is one thing that irked me a lot like you, because it kept going and going, it wasn’t just a moment, no, they kept going with that. What's the point of the series?? Where's the development?? None of these characters grew. None.

There’s probably more but … I don’t wanna write no more lol. I’m probably gonna start reading the comics too. They seem far more promising.

Thanks for listening again!! :D Hope you're doing well btw!!

No exactly. Loki’s heritage, a FUNDAMENTAL ASPECT OF HIS CHARACTER, has not ever been spoken about again unless it was to mock him. I wasn’t expecting them to full on show his Jotun form or anything of that sort, but you know what, maybe I expected them to talk about it in a non humorous manner for a second or two. Considering the fact it plays a HUGE part in who Loki is. Him only being a political pawn to Odin, instead of being a son to him as he thought, is why he is the way he is. You cannot excuse or undermine that. It is just as (if not more) important as “Ohhhh Loki’s jealous of Thor..” because it is literally the source. It’s the explanation.

There is a reason he was raised with inadequate care, and it wasn’t just because Thor was stronger physically or because he fit the image of the Asgardian ideal more than Loki did.

Loki was never meant to be loved, period. It wasn’t because of his mischievous nature. It wasn’t because of him gravitating towards magic and sharp weapons rather than brute strength. It was because when he was a baby on Jotunheim, he was taken in as a future pawn, instead of as a son to be loved despite any differences or despite how he grows up.

Getting to what you said about Thor and Odin being able to be heroes, while Loki is a villain no matter what he does… it is because Loki is only there to move the plot forward. Even if he does something reasonable, or something that could even be seen as heroic, it does not matter because he is not worthy of being seen as a hero. He’s only there to be a rival to Thor. In Odin’s eyes, he cannot be loved or praised, because the image of worthiness was always far from Loki’s own image.

The series was never meant to be about Loki. It was meant to pave the way for the Multiverse saga(?) and to introduce the next big enemy (Kang the Conqueror) but we all know how that went. You can drive yourself crazy with MANY questions like… oh, how did they forget this? How did they disregard that? Because Marvel just needed a pre-existing character to fuck up, get captured by the TVA, and everything else that happens. It’s not Loki specific, because why would Marvel ever do anything good for not only Loki but Tom Hiddleston who’s put so much care and love into playing Loki?

Why would they talk about Loki’s encounter with Thanos, the events of Avengers, the events of Thor? This is supposed to be Loki STRAIGHT OUT OF THE AVENGERS, and they didn’t talk about it besides insulting him. We didn’t get any POV from Loki. Nothing. If we didn’t get a Loki’s POV on the events he’s just gone through, why would it do him any kind of justice? WHY WOULD THEY TALK ABOUT HIS HERITAGE?

The only way the series could work, is for Loki to be dumbed the fuck down and at a disadvantage. Even if he is without his abilities/weapons, Loki is VERY intelligent. If this was ACTUALLY Loki, his ass would’ve manipulated his way out of there with EASE. Marvel has always downplayed how intelligent Loki is, of course they’d do it in a series that is supposed to uplift him. It’s only Loki that gets dumbed down in his own series.

The no magic at the TVA thing… I don’t even know man. I’m going to assume the contradiction is due to the writers forgetting/disregarding anything that’s relevant to Loki’s character once again as well as them not being able to CGI Tom Hiddleston blue for however many hours the series runs for. They could’ve at least gave some kind of bullshit excuse for it. I’ve seen some theorize that Odin’s spell was just that powerful, or that it changed Loki biologically permanently or something. I don’t really remember please forgive me lol there’s posts made by others on here with more information if you are interested. I just think of it as them not caring about Loki once again.

Please do not apologize! The reason I make posts is so I can further discuss my points with others. I love hearing from everyone, and I really appreciate this ask! Forgive me for not getting to it sooner. I’ve been busy, and also wanted to make sure all of this made sense before posting. If you want to discuss anything that I’ve previously spoken of, I genuinely would love to and would appreciate it. I’m glad that people actually listen to what I have to say lol

They had to speed run the development of every relationship in order for the plot to work out, so that’s why Loki, known for not trusting others as well as being known as someone who shouldn’t be trusted, was opening up to a complete stranger (WHO WORKS FOR AN AUTHORITY) who was holding him captive, and insulting him every chance he got.

Also the “I’ve studied every aspect of your life” thing about Mobius is so weird to me??? You did that, but do not understand Loki at all and insult him??? Asshole. I hate that guy.

The concept of the series is SO fucking stupid in the first place. Not sure if you know this, but a good chunk of the plot is a screenplay/scrapped project Michael Waldron wrote a while back. Once again, Loki was never the focus of any of this. It was not written with him in mind. He needed a strong female lead, and a “male” lead to project his own plot onto basically. They just recycled it.

“The worst guy of all time and the girl who came to kill him” [Link]

It is so fucking bad, and it makes so much sense.

Sylvie… she’s definitely a character! Like she’s played by an actress, has lines, and stuff…

There is so much to be said about her. Waldron is HORRIBLE at writing women (as you can tell by the horrendous screenplay I’ve linked) and the entire concept of her character is dumb as fuck. I believe I’ve said this before, but she’s like three pre-existing characters mashed into one to keep her unique/distinctive from Loki, YET SHE BRINGS NOTHING INTERESTING TO THE SERIES AT ALL!!! HOW ARE YOU THREE CHARACTERS, BUT SO BORING??? Can Sylvie really not shapeshift? I didn’t know that. She’s literally… a Loki. That makes no fucking sense not only because of Loki in the MCU/comics, but also because of Norse Mythology Loki. The literal origins.

About Loki’s gender/sex being fluid… they never cared about that which is why Loki (and the other variants) were so fucking baffled that Sylvie was female. Not going to lie, It kind of felt misogynistic to me. A variant of Loki being in a female form could’ve been really cool, but the MCU has to fuck up anything related to female characters.

The romance… 😃

Man, the motive behind it is so fucking stupid too. Self love, because Loki has always loved himself guys. He’s so narcissistic!!! Of course he would fall in love with a female variant of himself. Because he’s so self obsessed.

Loki, ONCE AGAIN, a character known for not trusting others, would SOOOOO fall in love with someone he just met. He’s been lied to numerous times in his life by people he loved and trusted, but it’s very logical for him to fall in love with someone who’s done nothing but belittle him for a few interactions.

He had more chemistry with that book he was reading in his cell in TDW then he did with Sylvie. (or Mobius for that matter.)

Omg yessss I ship them so hard!! That’s what they sound like. 🤦🏻‍♀️

I think that “toxic” relationships can SOMETIMES be written decently in fiction, but this… 😁

Sylvie just constantly belittles Loki, and he doesn’t even belittle or mock her back! It could’ve been playful and not one sided, but if Loki dared to belittle Sylvie the way she did to him, her entire character would make no sense and every flaw would have to be given a second thought. Something the writers would never do.

They didn’t point out each other’s flaws, it was only Sylvie pointing out Loki’s. Same thing with every other character interaction Loki had in the series. It was all about “humbling” him, and no one else. AND THE SERIES IS SUPPOSED TO BE ABOUT HIM!

I personally do not like romance in fiction in general, but GOODNESS is the MCU exceptionally horrible at handling it.

(Changed color of the ss because it was blending in with my own text lol)

No, this… this is spot on.

I’ve always thought of this as well. It put such a bad taste in my mouth. But, at least they were honest about how the series was going to go from the beginning. The first thing they do is strip him (literally) of who he is in every way possible. His personality, his armor, and his hair isn’t even the same. No because Loki really is just a base character for their shitty story. How anyone who claims to like Loki cannot see the symbolism you mentioned, as well as him NOT BEING LIKE HIMSELF WHATSOEVER, I don’t know… it was the first thing I noticed, and when I watched the series, I had probably only watched the movies featuring him a few times. That’s how stark the difference was to me.

ALSO THIS?????

EXACTLY! IT FELT LIKE IT WAS MORE TO EXPLAIN IT TO THE VIEWERS RATHER THAN THE CHARACTERS!!!!!! That is an amazing point, and I’ve been trying to put that into words. Everything is just so fucking disconnected and unnatural feeling. The interactions are so fake. HORRENDOUS WRITING. I didn’t know it could get this bad.

Once again, so sorry for not getting to this sooner. Thank you so much for the ask, and I appreciate your thoughts! You made a lot of good points, and you don’t need to apologize for anything. Feel more than welcome to send asks any time you’d like! ❤️