#everyone in this game is unfairly pretty

[monochromatictoad]

Going through the Vulgrim tag and I was delightfully reminded of Lady Dis, a demon you encounter in Genesis. (I don't know much about Genesis, I'm hoping to get it soon so that I can get to know her better) and like?!

It's so unfair how fucking beautiful she is.

I think I'm crushing on Uriel and Usiel from Darksiders?

Like.... I'm already dating War.... But I also ship War and Uriel. But what if I just sandwiched my way between them, I mean... I have two hands?

But Usiel. Usiel. He stole my heart in Darksiders 3. He's so blinded by wanting to bring glory back to heaven and he pays for it by getting his ass beat by Fury. I mean, I like Lust and Pride as well, but I think I just like their designs more than I like them.

Oh but then there's Vulgrim. I really like him too. Oh.... Oh no. I don't think I should add more to my f/o list. I'll have to think about this. I don't feel like I would be able to use the same s/i I use for War, for Usiel or Vulgrim. But I could use them for Uriel 🤔.

I already feel bad for moving Chupacabra down to the QPR. It works better for my dynamic with him, but I still feel a little bad for it. Now my brain is telling me I need to add these three to my list.

Should I?

[auras-moonstone]

Hi, I love your work so much!! How about some hockey player!ethan and figure skater!reader? Maybe some enemies to lovers? Have a great day<3

everything has changed — ethan landry

word count: 2,150

pairing: hockey player!ethan landry x figure skater!fem!reader

summary: as punishment for his suspension, ethan is forced to become y/n's skate partner for a few weeks

Y/N AND ETHAN STOOD STILL INSIDE THE OFFICE AS THE INFORMATION SINKED INTO THEIR BRAINS. Their coaches looked at each other, wanting to ran off the room as to not deal with the eventual fury that would come from the teenagers that everyone knew despised each other.

"No fucking way!" Y/N finally exclaimed, harshly, as Ethan said at the same time, "I'd rather tore my ACL."

The boy's sentence earned him a glare from his coach. "Don't even joke about it, Landry."

"Y/N, it’s the only option. Unless you have someone else in mind who can replace James."

The girl’s shoulders slumped—she didn't, and as much as she didn't like Ethan, he was kind of perfect for the part. He skated flawlessly and he lifted weights twice as heavy as the girl, so he would have no problem lifting her for the tricks. But there was this tiny detail—Ethan Landry was the most infuriating, annoying and self-centered guy in the whole university. And now she needed him, which made him even more frustrating.

Y/N's skating partner broke his arm and the competition was five weeks away, and if she wanted to compete, she had to push her hatred aside for a few weeks.

"And I wasn't asking you, Landry. It is an order. Consider it your punishment, learn to be professional." his coach said in a determined tone.

Ethan sighed and covered his face with his hands. He had been suspended from hockey for three games after beating the opposite team's defense player almost into oblivion. The ice had been tainted scarlet and his knuckles still hurt, even he knew he had crossed a line. But after the player said the nastiest of things about his family, he couldn't think straight. And here he was now, forced to become a figure skater for three weeks with the girl he loathed the most in the world.

"After you, my love." Ethan said in a sour voice, holding the door of the office open for her. He had a smile so false that Y/N was tempted to slap it off his unfairly pretty face. He loved pushing her buttons, so when he saw her face of annoyance he wanted to infuriate her even more. Y/N rolled her eyes and walked out the room, with the tall boy on her tail. "Wow, no ‘Thank you, Ethan! You're a real gentleman’?"

"Must have been hard not being an asshole for a whole second, right? It didn't give you an aneurysm?" she matched his false smile.

"No, but working with you for sure will." Ethan retorted. "On a positive note, I'll get to see you in sexy leotards."

"Pig" she muttered under her breath. "And I'll get to see you on leggings."

Ethan stopped walking and inspected her face, looking for any signs that told him she was joking "Wait, what?"

She smirked, enjoying the moment. "That's what figure skaters wear, genius."

"I won't wear that."

"Yes, you will, pretty boy. Don’t be a baby about it.” she said, and he flipped her off. He hated her so much. “See you tomorrow."

“Unfortunately.” he said loud enough for her to hear. She rolled her eyes as she walked away, she hated him so much.

THEY HAVEN'T EVEN GOT INTO THE ICE RINK AND ETHAN HAD ALREADY PISSED Y/N OFF. He had been inside the locker room for fifteen minutes now, and didn't want to step out. Y/N was two seconds away from kicking the door down.

"Landry get your ass out of that room right now! We are wasting our time!" she banged on the door furiously.

"You don't understand! I can't wear this, Y/L/N." Ethan yelled.

"Every skate figure wears leggings, Landry. There is nothing to be ashamed of."

"Yes, there is. This leggings are too tight, Y/N. Too tight."

Y/N sighed. "Let me see."

"No way!"

"Stop testing my patience, Landry. Let me see or I'll go in."

A few seconds later, she heard the turn of the handle and the door flew open. The air got stuck on her throat and a strangled sound left her mouth. The rumours going around the university were true, she couldn’t help thinking.

"Holy mother of God" she said loudly, gaze fixed on the problem. "That's too tight"

"That's what I've been saying for the past fifteen minutes!" he yelled frustrated.

"I thought you were exaggerating."

"Are you talking to me or my dick?" Ethan frowned, seeing how she wasn't looking at his face, gaze fixed on his huge bulge.

Y/N was brought back from the shock and finally looked away. "I'm so sorry! That was not okay of me, it's just... shocking."

"That I have a big dick? Ouch, I'm wounded."

"No! I mean- not that I ever thought about it. But I didn't expect I would ever find out" she couldn't have been blushing more. As much as she hated him, she wasn't stupid. Ethan Landry was the most attractive boy on college.

"Whatever. What am I going to do? I can't practice like this."

"Just put your gym shorts above the leggings. And hurry up."

She turned around to leave when he called her name. "I'll never get tired of seeing you in a leotard" Ethan winked at her before closing the door of the locker room.

What was his obsession with leotards? Y/N asked herself as she rolled her eyes. And as she made her way to the ice rink, she tried to ignore the fact that her whole body had turned warm after his words.

While putting his skates on, Ethan watched Y/N going over the routine. There were very scarce the times where he saw her without a scowl on her face or firing insults at him, and that was only when she was on the ice. Her face glowed and she was completely hypnotic. She moved around so flawlessly and elegantly that it was impossible to look away from her, you could tell that she truly loved being on ice. As much as he disliked her, Ethan couldn't deny that Y/N was beyond professional and one of the best skaters he had ever seen.

“Are you ready?” Y/N asked him, sliding towards the edge of the rink. Ethan got out of his daze and nodded. “Okay, so obviously this is not the same as hockey, but I’ve seen your moves and I don’t think you’ll have problems doing this routine. But if you don’t understand something, speak up and we’ll work on it.”

Ethan nodded. “Wait, what do you mean you have seen my moves?” he asked as they got into position.

“I’m a huge hockey fan, and I don’t miss any of Blackmore’s matches. So yeah, I’ve seen you play countless times.”

“Am I your favourite player?” he asked with a smirk.

“Let’s get to work.” she rolled her eyes. But the answer, even though she would never ever say it, was yes. And he knew it.

Objectively speaking, of course, Ethan Landry was the best hockey player Blackmore had. Probably better than the rest of the New York’s university players. On the ice, he was a force to be reckoned with and he was a hard-worker, he cared for his team and for the sport. He was a true captain. And that’s exactly why it shocked her to the core the way he had reacted on that final match.

“That’s a yes, I know it.” he smiled widely, making her sigh. He wasn’t making fun of her anymore, he was genuinely happy by it. And then a frown appeared on his face. “I hope I still am, even after what happened.”

The vulnerability in his voice melted Y/N’s walls. “You still are. You are not the first player to get suspended, and you won’t be the last. It has nothing to do with your skills or your commitment to the sport.”

“That’s not what coach says” he laughed dryly.

“Coach is furious because he lost his best player, but he doesn’t mean it. Everyone in this university knows how serious you are about hockey, okay? Don’t doubt yourself over one wrong action.”

They smiled at each other, for the first time ever, with sincerity. But then he ruin it with his smugness “Do you want my autograph?”

Y/N pushed him away playfully “You’re such an asshole”

“Oh sorry, would you prefer if I gave you my jersey?” Ethan sent her a teasing glance.

“I’d prefer if you shut up and start warming up.”

“Anything for my number one fan.” he winked at her and she almost melted. God, was he charming—annoying, but charming nonetheless.

“I despise you.”

But there wasn’t any hatred reflected on those words anymore. That day, they entered the rink expecting practice to be dreadful and filled with insults. They left laughing and hoping the next day would arrive quickly, because they had actually enjoyed it. There had been insults thrown, but they were the playful kind, insults that weren’t meant to hurt the other. Everything had changed that day for them.

Y/N HAD ALWAYS ENJOYED SKATING AND COMPETING, BUT DOING IT WITH ETHAN MADE IT EVEN BETTER. It’s ironic, when her coach told her he was to be James’ replacement, she thought it would be the worst thing ever. But now, that the three weeks were over, she knew she was going to miss him.

“So, that’s it, then.” Ethan spoke up as they left the arena. Today had been their last practice together, as James had already recovered and Ethan’s suspension had ended.

“That’s it.” she nodded. “It wasn’t half as bad as I’d imagined.”

“It wasn’t.” he agreed. His chest felt heavy, which was silly. It’s not like he wouldn’t see her again. They practiced the same days on the same place, and they even shared some classes. The truth was, he was scared it was the end of their newfound…friendship? God, no. Friendship wasn’t quite right, they had something more going on.

“Are you going to the competition?” she asked shyly, cheeks turning red.

God, she was so cute. It was hard to believe it was the same girl that was constantly bickering with him. “Do you want me to go?”

“I mean, I guess it’s kind of your routine too now, so I figure you’d like to see the outcome.” she said nervously.

Ethan took a step forward, so that she had to look up “That’s not what I asked. Do you want me to go?”

“Yes.” her tone was a bit unstable. His closeness made her insanely nervous, so she cleared her throat before replying again. “Yes. I want you to go. But no pressure, it’s okay if you don’t want to.”

“I’ll be there.” he assured her. “My game is on the same day, a few hours after your competition ends.”

“Oh, shit! That’s right. Maybe you shouldn’t come, you need to rest.”

Ethan shook his head. “I’ll be there.” he repeated. “But I want you to go to my game”

“I never miss one.” she said.

“Perfect. You know which number to use” he said, giving her a knowing look.

“Of course, I’ll wear Meeks’.” she teased.

Ethan clenched his jaw. “Use one that isn’t mine and see what happens.”

“You sound a bit mad there, Landry. You sound almost—” she stood on her tip toes, her mouth nearly touching his. “jealous.”

“You’re killing me here, Y/N/N.” his tone was pleading. He had never wanted to kiss someone so badly.

“What? You want me to kiss you?” her words left in a whisper and he could feel her breathy voice against his lips.

“I’ll give you three seconds to take a step back, if you don’t, I’ll kiss the hell out of you.” he warned her.

Y/N smiled. “One.” she set his hands on her waist. “Two.” then she wrapped hers around his neck. “Three.” she looked him in the eyes. “Still her-”

Ethan’s lips captured hers. The kiss was like their relationship—it started wild and aggressive and then it slowed down, becoming sweeter and softer but still holding an insanely amount of passion.

“You drive me crazy, did you know that?” Ethan laughed, pressing his forehead to hers. “In the most frustrating and loving way.”

“If a month ago someone told me I’ll be kissing Ethan Landry I would’ve laughed and then throw up in disgust. Now, there’s no other thing I’d rather be doing.”

“Aw, that was kinda sweet. You still have to work on your compliments, but you’ll get there.” he pressed kisses all over her face. “I’m so fucking glad I punched that guy.”

Y/N laughed. “I dare you to repeat that in front of coach.”

“I don’t have a death wish.”

“And you’re too pretty to die.” she pecked him on the lips. “Did I just make Ethan Landry blush?!”

“Shut up!” he laughed in such an adorable way that Y/N was surprised she didn’t melt in the spot. “I really like you, Y/N.”

“I really like you too.”

[theealbatross]

kiss me (s.s.)

Plot | You fought, kissed, and made up. But it could never be that easy.

or, Sebastian took two steps forward and three steps back.

Tags | insecurities, social pressures, obsessive tendencies, slytherin!reader, dark!seb and reader if you squint, but not really, underage drinking (theyre all 16-18 in this), they're just crazy about each other and can't tell anyone, kissing (duh) nothing too PG, happy ending?, read 4k words and figure it out, if the end made you scream say 'aye'

[ 6th Year ]

“Spin that fucking bottle!”

If you had known what absolute monstrosity you would create when you introduced muggle sleepover games to your housemates you would’ve gone to bed early.

But now, you were surrounded by drunk, nosy, Slytherins that were dead-set on exposing each other’s most embarrassing secrets. No one was safe.

“Imelda!” Everyone cheered, Grace quickly hooked her arms around the other girl’s neck when she tried to escape.

The party had long since been over, most of the students from other houses had already retired to their own rooms but those who had friends in Slytherin (like Poppy and Natty) or were too drunk to journey back to the spiraling staircases of their houses safely (like Everett and Samantha) decided to sober up for a while in the Quidditch Grand Champion’s common room.

“Are you actually as mean as you pretend to be or do you just not know how to make friends,” Natty slurred, pointing and wagging a finger at her.

If she was in a better constitution, she would’ve been able to brush off that accusation easily and with confidence but a dozen of improved (thanks Garreth) Firewhiskey shots later and the ever-guarded Imelda flushed in embarrassment to the surprise of everyone. The small circle burst out laughing, Imelda pushed Grace away in annoyance.

“It’s okay, ‘melda. We love you as you are!” Poppy was definitely still hammered.

“Next, next, next!”

The bottle spun and spun but your eyes were at the boy who had just returned from tucking Ominis in their shared dorm. You smiled up at him as he sat in the reserved space available just for him right beside you. “Omi?” you mouthed.

He squeezed your hands, silently letting you know your lightweight friend was now safely tucked in his own bed and ready to welcome the worst hangover he had ever known tomorrow.

“Well, well, well! Our brilliant, beloved, beater!”

It was when you turned your eyes back down on the ground that you saw that the mouth of the bottle was now undoubtedly pointed at Sebastian.

“Mate, I just got here!”

The crowd booed, Sebastian receiving light punches and playful jeers. “It’s the rules, Sallow!”

Everyone looked at you expectantly, the false inventor of such guidelines. You smirked, shrugging, “Rules are rules.”

Sebastian gaped at the betrayal. He gave you a look that lets you know he’ll get you back for this, even secretly poking your waist sharply. You didn’t like the way your housemate’s eyes glinted at the small interaction. Oh no.

“Alright, Alright,” Garreth shushed the crowd with two outstretched hands. “I have the million galleon question! I’m sure everyone will praise my genius for it!”

“Get on with it already!”

The Gryffindor threw a drunken glare at the voice from the back of the common room. “Now, I’m sure our dear Sebastian, despite receiving many letters of admiration and flutters of pretty lashes –”

“Gross,” Imelda grumbled.

“—has yet to officially court someone!” Garreth announced, arms stretched wide like he was a ringmaster about to start his greatest show. Everyone oo-ed and ahh-ed and cheered.

You didn’t like where this was going.

Sebastian, for all the eyes that were on him, managed to maintain the small smile on his cocky face.

It was true. You were not blind to the … physical developments he had undergone the last two years nor to the attention it had garnered him. The boy you had sneaked around Hogwarts with in your fifth year had disappeared and was replaced by a man. An unfairly tall, tanned, attractive man. You damn near walked past him again if he had not pulled you to his side on your first day during your 6th year.

You weren’t ignorant of it, nor were you dumb enough to deny your attraction to your friend.

But you are a lady. And his friend.

His most trusted, beloved friend (his words not yours).

You’d rather not risk your lifelong connection if he won’t. You know how to read between the lines as blurry as it had become. He’s lost too much and you refuse to become another scar in his soul. The both of you have had enough of that to last you till the next lifetime.

“So, my question is,” your eyes widened when you felt two hands on each of your shoulders, in your deep reverie you have failed to notice Garreth sneaking behind your back or that all conniving eyes and raised eyebrows were now on you.

Sebastian smiled.

“Kiss, Marry, Kill.”

[ 7th Year ]

It was by incredible luck that your 7th year of Hogwarts called for the Triwizard tournaments to be held in Hogwarts.

You were prepared to enjoy the event in relative peace. Happy that for once you would be the spectator of all the action instead of being the one in the middle of it.

Life just can’t make it that easy for you.

You did not even realize that Sebastian of all people had thrown his name in as consideration until he had been called and your dreams of a quiet last year in Hogwarts were shot to the depths of hell. It was the first time in a while that you felt true fear, the type that froze all your blood solid.

The fight that followed in the Undercroft was explosive.

“How could you be so reckless, Sebastian?! People die in these games! Why would you do this?!”

Just the thought of it makes your stomach sink. Sebastian will be front and center of this bloody battle of pride that is broadcasted to the entire wizarding world. It was different when it was the two of you jumping through all types of danger – this time you won’t be able to help him. He will be alone.

Yet, when you had expected a valid explanation and a plan out of all this madness he instead looked at you with such anger and vitriol that you physically flinched.

“Because I am sick of being just your friend!” Even Ominis pushed himself off the wall he had been leaning on. Foreseeing a tragedy about to uncontrollably unroll. “I’m constantly surrounded by you two! Ominis Gaunt, the scion of the purest bloodline in the wizarding world, the Heir of Slytherin who could do no wrong! How brilliant!”

He cackled a laugh, he looked like a man at the brink of insanity. How long had he been holding on to these thoughts?

“And you!”

“Sebastian enough –” Ominis tried to cut through his mania but he wasn’t having any of it. Once the words were out, there was no taking them back in. He was cursed – he will have to see it through.

“Famed Hero of Hogwarts,” each word was dripped in poison, the insecurities bubbling inside him caused him to lash out at anyone and everyone who dared question his decision. How could they understand? How would they understand a nobody? “Do you know how tired I am of being in your shadow?”

He felt the sting before he heard it, the slap drowned the Undercroft in silence. Then, the weight of his grave words sunk in. The green haze in his head cleared just to see the boiling tears falling down your distraught face.

What has he –

“Then let me free you of such shadow, Sebastian,” your face crumpled, physically pained by such cruelty from your dearest companion. “You’re on your own this time.”

That had been months ago, aside from the few classes you had together he had not even seen you anywhere else. Not even in the first game when he had sent you an owl begging you for a chance to apologize and dedicating his win to you. The victory over the other contestants tasted bitter when he couldn’t find your face in the celebrating crowd.

And the pit in his chest turned into a black hole when he caught Ominis at the edge of the celebration shaking his head. She didn’t come. He’s lost her.

Ominis refused to help him – not that he deserved any. In retrospect, it was ... silly – the insecurities he had been shamefully hiding. He knew his friends had never seen him short of an equal but it’s difficult to see the good when the entire world is looking down at you with cruel, disapproving eyes when your back is turned. Cruel whispers they made sure only he could hear.

“I thought he’d live somewhere more posh.” “Sallow? Dating her? That’s preposterous he’s an orphan with barely a galleon to his name.” “Why do you think they keep him around?”

It was stupid and irrational and he handled it in the worst possible way. Lashed out at the one person who least deserved it, who went through hell to drag him back out, then benevolently tended to all the wounds and scars in his humanity till he was himself again.

“Let me free you of such shadow, Sebastian.”

He slammed his head on the wall he was leaning on, the heartbreaking image of her distressed face was a nightmare that had chased him awake or asleep.  Sebastian may deserve this but you most definitely didn’t. He never deserved you.

Yet, here he was, sitting on the floor of the Ravenclaw Tower with a wilted bouquet of wildflowers he had picked before breakfast, hoping he could catch her somehow. He ignored the giggles, snickers, and confused questions thrown his way no matter how embarrassed he felt. He wasn’t moving from this spot until he can apologize – the silent treatment was torture worse than Crucio. And he had been hit with one.

At the first sound of the walls transforming, he was already up on his feet, his hands instinctively brushing his hair as if looking presentable would even out his chances of repairing his most treasured friendship.

The door opened and finally, your eyes met his. The tension was something that would choke even the greediest puffskein. Your eyes were wide, unblinking and your lips were pursed in a fine line that communicated how much you loathed being in his presence. He hopes you know that you could never hate him as much as he hated himself at this very moment.

“For you!” It was only when it was being offered to you did he realize how abysmal the dying bouquet he had been carrying in his hands since this morning looked. But it was too late now, she was already here, looking at the flower then back to him and all the lines he had practiced flew out of his head.

Instead, he just fell to his knees, prostrating, tears already threatening to fall down his face. He had never been an honorable man. “Sebastian! Get up!”

“I will do anything you ask me to,” The feel of her touch made his skin tingle. After months of not even catching your eyes or hearing your voice and it was more than worth it to suffer through all this humiliation just for this moment. Even if you may never forgive him at least he could apologize. He’ll have a better last moment with you than your fight. “I’ll win the games. I’ll quit. I’ll drop out of Hogwarts if that’s what you want just, please … forgive me.”

He felt your arms wrap around him but he was too distraught, barely comprehending that you had somehow pulled him back into the room until the two of you fell on the ground and the door of the room slammed shut. Still, he continued sobbing in your arms, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist as he drenched your neck with his anguished tears. “I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Sebastian wasn’t playing fair but your forgiveness was a prize he was willing to cheat to earn. There would be no point of honor if he lost you – anyone else but you.

“It wasn’t anything you did. It was me,” he sobbed. “I just – you and Ominis became such incredible people that I realized it was me who had not become anyone. I am a nobody!”

“Sebastian that is just not true –”

“It’s moronic I know! But I just thought … if I could win these games … if I could stop being just myself and be a champion then I can finally earn the spot beside you.”

It was embarrassing to admit all that, the deep insecurities that had festered inside of him the moment he was finally faced with the reality of the world. That he was surround by great people who has and will achieve great things and he was … him. A failure, a murderer, a burden.

“Don’t make me slap you again,” your cold voice woke him up from his self-lashings.

He sniffed, nodding, finally finding the strength and shame to sit up on his knees in front of you. “I … I really am so sorry.”

He pinched his eyes shut, preparing himself for the worst. His nails digging in his palm in an effort to stop it from shaking. However, it took one touch of your palms to break through all his pretenses. “I forgive you.”

He crumbled in relief, jumping into your open arms in a mess of tears, snot, and even more apologies.

“I know, I know,” you shushed him, hands tight even as he soaked your shirt through. “Ominis talked to me and … Sebastian you really are so silly. What do you mean you're a nobody? You're the top student in our year! So much so that all those Ravenclaws have declared you their enemy. You're the greatest beater in our generation that even I have been receiving owls begging me to somehow convince you to play for their team when you graduate! I can't even imagine how many times I would have gotten in trouble or straight-up died if it wasn't for you! I swear you're so fucking daft sometimes!”

He nodded eagerly, taking any jabs you may have if it meant you were talking to him. Even if it was still difficult for him to accept that any of those achievements you dictated could ever surmount to what you had achieved he knew it wasn't smart to try and correct it now when you had just forgiven his transgressions. “Stupid, stupid, boy.”

It was there in that room that your fractured friendship was mended with a bunch of dead flowers and Sebastian’s tears.

To celebrate, you had produced a couple of leftover Hogshead Brew for the two of you to enjoy till you were tipsy enough to forget the past horrible months without each other and were now giggling to each other’s face as if to make up for all the laughs you were owed in the months of silence.

“Lay back down, your eyes are going to be swollen shut.”

He’s been crying so hard for so long that he was too tired to do anything but follow your words, laying at the center of the bed you’ve conjured and sighing at the warm cloth you pressed on his eyes that miraculously stopped the world from spinning.

If he thinks too hard about the shameful faces he had shown you, he fears he’s going to combust, instead he focused on the rake of your nails on his hair, the familiar scent of your perfume he had given to you as a gift for your birthday last year, and the weight of your head as you laid on his stomach while the alcohol coursed through his body.

“You shouldn’t quit.”

He folded the cloth in one eye to take a peek at you. You giggled sweetly, clearly taking the drink harder than him, and gods above did he miss it. His happiness was cut short however when you crawled over the length of his body and instead plopped next to him, your head resting on his outstretched arm.

Physical affection wasn’t new to the two of you – after what you had been through hugs and holding hands were something the two of you found comfort in, a reminder that despite everything, the two of you made it out together – but after a few months without it he was faced with the realization of how unconventionally intimate your friendship truly was.

“Like I said, Ominis explained to me how you’ve been feeling – only another man would ever understand a bruised man’s ego. And if this is what’s going to make you feel better then I will support you till the end.” He turned his head so he can look at your eyes. When you cupped his face he felt his gut curl on itself from adoration. “But make no mistake Sebastian, the two of us have always been equals. We’re kindred spirits, remember?”

Kindred spirits, he thought. He remembers the first time he called the two of you that -- something a little cheeky for the first witch who didn't sneer in disgust at the prospects of his less than favorable past time. The curiosity in your eyes then was one he had seen in his own, even then he had this funny feeling that you were going to get along very well.

If he only knew how right he was, he would've thought he was a prodigy in divination.

A tear once again pebbled at the memory but just as he closed his eyes ready to wipe it away you were already sitting up, throwing the wet cloth and pressing a kiss on the edge of it. Sebastian sucked in a breath, blinking to see you hovering over him now. He’s never seen you this zealous. The passion in your eyes is almost mirroring his own.

It would seem whatever was in that brew had smashed through your inhibitions and his pride as he let you continue peppering kisses all over his face.

“You are very precious to me,” she whispered fondly, her gaze soft, drunk and adoring then it turned dark, an emotion crossed your face that he’d only seen when you had been fighting the meanest of foes. “I’d blow this entire school up before I let any of them think they could take your place in my life.”

Sebastian shuddered, his entire body burning under your gaze.

Leaning over again, you pressed another kiss on his other eyelid. “I won’t allow anyone to take you away from me.”

On his forehead. “And you are not allowed to leave me. I forbid it, Sebastian.”

As pathetic as it was, the words were everything he needed to hear. The possession healing over all his insecurities like a balm.

He has always been a selfish lad. His parents and everything he had ever known were ripped away from him at too early of an age that it made him realize that he needed to protect Anne because she was all he had but even that exploded spectacularly into a tragedy.

And then he met you and finally, finally, he met his person. Someone who was seemingly made just for him. Someone who understood him for all his secrets and flaws and still called him a friend.

However, it would seem that he was cursed of a cruel fate. Because the one person who was supposed to be just his turned out to be the most sought-after witch of their generation with the type of magic that had not been seen in centuries. At first, it didn’t matter, he was confident of his place in your life. But as the two of you grew up, the reality that your position in society were skies apart was when his insecurities began to painfully blossom.

But this … it was nice to be claimed like this. To be able to hear and see the crazed obsession he had only seen in his own reflection be mirrored by the one person he needed it from the most. The whole world can laugh behind his back, it didn’t matter anymore. The most brilliant witch in history is in this bed with him, kissing all his insecurities away and branding him as hers.

He chuckled but was cut short when you pressed a softer kiss just by the edge of his smile. His heart threatened to pound out of his chest, his ears failing to hear anything else but the next words out of your mouth. “Do you understand me, Sebastian?”

It has never been clearer: she is his.

“You are mine.”

With her final words, Sebastian’s brain seems to finally function again. A surge of alcohol and courage caused him to raise his limbs to cup your face, pulling you closer and closer so he could finally do what he had been dreaming about since your first duel.

A kiss. A promise. The final bind that would lock your souls together forevermore.

You gasped, smiling through the kiss before you plopped your entire body on top of his, your body finally getting overwhelmed by the alcohol and all that has happened in the past hours – knocking you straight into a dreamless sleep.

For the first time in a long, long while, he was at peace.

The two of you may never remember this moment but he’ll know it in his soul. In this dim room, surrounded by her scent, and her skin, and her kisses – he has finally found where he belongs and who belonged to him.

He pulled you into him – tighter, closer. It didn’t matter, you were his.

Only his.

“Guess we made up?”

When you woke up Sebastian was already lounging in the ottoman by the end of the bed, casually reading a book while you were crawling towards him with your blanket over your head and suffering through a hangover.

If not for the redness in his eyes you would’ve thought you hallucinated his teary apologies.

He was quick to open up his form, grabbing a decorative pillow for you as you laid down on his lap dramatically. You don’t remember much but you knew enough that the big fight was forgotten and forgiven.

“Guess so, darling,” he chuckled nonchalantly, back to his cool, charming self as if he hadn’t been a crybaby in your arms just yesterday.

‘Darling’? That’s new.

You grinned, letting him pet you. You weren’t complaining, not being friends with Sebastian felt wrong and it was a miracle you stood your ground as hard as you did.

“Aren’t I so gracious, dear?” you teased, poking his stomach to make him flinch. The two of you laughed. “What happened after I popped out that blasted poison from Hogshead?”

When you try to comb through your memories your headache fights back with a vengeance so you had hoped he would supply the blank pages in your mind.

He stared at you for a beat before sighing, looking truly as miffed as you. “I wish I remembered, I’m in the dark as much as you.”

And as much as he knows it was wrong to not try to remember, he also knew he wouldn’t be able to live through the embarrassment of what he might’ve been telling you while he was drunk and emotional again. It was a mistake but he was more than happy to let those blank memories remain blank. What’s important is that you are friends again.

“Let’s focus on the future now, hm? No sense digging through what would definitely be an embarrassing moment for me,” he groaned, pinching your cheeks when you gave him a teasing smile.

You hesitated, biting your lip but then nodded. “If you say so.” It was in the past after all.

Sebastian was glad you let it go. (He will regret this in years to come.)

“Speaking of futures, I had wanted to ask you,” he played with the short strands of your hair, heart full of adoration as he looked down at your face. “Go to the Yule Ball with me? Gotta have a pretty date for this year.”

You dramatically gasped, “The Future Triwizard Champion asking little old me? Also, I was your date last year, scoundrel!”

He burst out laughing, you jumped into his arms, pressing a kiss on his cheeks.

His lips tingled, his head ached as it begged him to remember. But then you flashed him that bright smile and nothing else mattered.

“I would love to.”

The two of you were back to what you had once been. It would just be greedy to ask for more.

Right?

[grace-williams-xo]

RAMBLING THOUGHTS AFTER FINISHING PART TWO. GONNA ADDRESS MY P1 THOUGHTS FIRST. SPOILER WARNING.

1 & 2: I think Debling could’ve worked in the second half, and I’m kinda sad Cressida didn’t get a happy ending. The Creloise fell of a CLIFF after ep 5 but I think it could still be saved

5: no cishet man has ever loved his wife more than Anthony Bridgerton I’m gonna be ill

6 & 12: kanthony’s absence was felt BAD in the finale, I think their reactions to LW were sorely needed. Also Jonny and Simone have both said they’ll be at every sibling’s wedding and stick around for years but they missed Francesca’s??? Also felt their absence too much then. They’re both booked and busy I think we’ll continue to only get a couple episodes a season from them

8: Francesca did get to thrive happy in pt 2 my baby I love her

9: I think they managed to disconnect the mondrich plot even further like 😭 once again, I don’t mind them their plot just feels very empty

10: Pen and Delacroix CONTINUE to be my fave duo I love them so freaking much and they can never get rid of it

13: Portia’s growth this season continued to be 10/10 I loved her and Penelope’s relationship it really showed what it’s like to be closely related to people you oppose and the process of needing to forgive and understand them for your own peace of mind

14: that was not how I was expecting Colin to find out about Whistledown

15: Marcus felt a little rushed in part two but I think I need to watch the whole season together to fully decide

17: this was indeed the longest 27 days of my life I got Covid day after it dropped lmfao

MY ~NEW~ THOUGHTS:

We finally got character development from Cressida and if they write her out I’ll be inconsolable (as will Jessica Madsen)

I hope they paid Golda Rosheuvel good for her feet exposure. Worth more than titties in this economy

I feel the need to tell everyone that £5000 in 1815 is in the realm of £500,000 today and we cannot brush over the fact Penelope has made herself the equivalent of a literal millionaire

Anthony has two moods ‘I’m obsessed with my wife’ ‘I want to win this game’ like it is comical how drastically different his facial expression is in the game of charades compared to pretty much every other scene

Anthony saying the marriage is perfect and not hard work and Kate being like BOY I will humble you,,,, doing the lord’s work I love her so much

At some points I felt like Francesca was fighting Anthony for ‘Violet’s least favourite child’ award lmao

John saying he’s off to look at the wainscotting was unfairly funny

Cressida in the red dress is even better than I imagined fuck even if she’s not gay then I am

Peneloise back together the universe is healing I love my babies all we need now is creloise lovers and peneloise friendship simultaneously I don’t like it being one or the other sue me

However much Brimsley is getting paid isn’t enough,,,, Hugh Sachs the man that you are

I adored Penelope’s wedding dress so much and as bitter as I am still about no kanthony wedding in s2, it felt kind of right somehow for Polin to be the first wedding we properly see in this show

Most of the costumes and makeup feel like they got worse,,,,, big ‘I hired a 14 year old’ energy. I don’t need historical accuracy but I would like a modicum of care and the costume/hair/makeup dept looking at a single historical reference from before 1850,,,, please

We all got the bi Benedict we’ve been asking for and I appreciate it, and recognise that he needed Tilley to explore that, but I still would’ve preferred if they first main queer experience was not a threesome

If they go straight into benophie in s4 (which idk, I’m so torn bc I feel like F, E and B all could work well next season) then I also feel like bi Benedict was just them throwing a bone for 5 mins but meant nothing

The CONTENTIOUS Michaela Stirling,,,,, I was undecided until I saw it but that was the definition of gay panic from Francesca and it worked so well I am so excited.

As your resident peerage expert, it is much easier for women to inherit titles in Scotland than England so I wonder (not that anyone on this show knows anything) if that was a reason they chose Francesca to be sapphic [general peerage info and female inheritance info if you care]

On the above, if they can canonically end racism with one marriage then they can end homophobia with one marriage as well

We all know Eloise was the easy and obvious choice to be the queer love story but part of me does kind of like them not taking the easy route, and them going something more unexpected, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want Creloise/Sapphic El like they had eight children let’s be honest

Finch’s sneeze and Phillips’s “now Varely! The bugs!” were unfairly funny

Everything Lady Danbury said to Penelope about suspecting her and what not felt very in character and you can fight with the wall idc

Did they tell us the name of Polin’s baby boy???

Hyacinth saying she thinks of Gregory as the family pet,,,,, girl you an icon walking amongst mere mortals

Predictions I got right:

Anthony didn’t kill Colin, but “are you gonna duel your own brother” lmao I was on the right track

I knew Polin would win the Featherington baby race and I love that for them (but why were Prudence and Phillipa pregnant most of the season, barely showing, Kate was showing almost immediately, and then in the epilogue the sisters all had baby’s similar-ish ages???? Give the writers room a calendar please)

I SAID FROM DAY DOT THAT THE FURNITURE THEY BROKE FROM SEX WAS A CHAISE I CANT FIND THE POST BUT I KNEW IT I FUCKING KNEW IT WHERE DO I COLLECT MY PRIZE SOME OF YOUR GUESSES WERE TRULY FUCKING COOKED

Okay that was too long if you made it this far I’ll make you cookie ily

[lushrue]

I don't know if this is good but maybe, you can write something about maybe ice skater! reader being unfairly graded (i don't know how the point system works) or maybe ice hockey! 141 getting in a fight during a game and it gets kinda serious? Just a suggestion ofcourse, no pressure!❤ (Sorry if i'm akward, this is my first time sendinag and ask.)

thanks for the request, anon! your ask is great, no sweat! i’m gonna expand more on the second part of your request cause i’ll be honest, i’m not sure how scoring works for figure skating either lol!

but if reader gets a score that’s anything less than what they were expecting, no one’s gonna be happy. johnny’s raising a stink and probably cursing at the judges under his breath with words only he can understand. price is trying to rationalize it, cause he was sure you deserved higher than that. ghost seethes quietly, but he lets it go because these things happen sometimes. and kyle is just there for you, there to provide comfort or reassurance, whatever you need.

OKAY SO if the 141 got into a serious fight on the ice, for sure someone’s walking away bloody. whether it’s them or the other guy, it’s gotta be bad if all four of them are dog-piling on the opposing team. it probably starts with some cocksure rookie mouthing off, chirping about someone’s mother or sister or worse, you. they just can’t let that stand, someone insulting your honor like that! they’re gentlemen above all!

it’s probably ghost who throws the first punch. he’s the defenseman after all, his position is naturally a bit more physical than the rest of them. he doesn’t need words to fight back, he’s got fists that work just fine. that’s where johnny comes in, our favorite resident hothead. he’s swearing up a storm, hurling insults just to keep tensions high. he’s not done with a fight until someone’s on the ground. and he hasn’t gotten the chance to knock someone out yet this season.

price initially comes in as the peacemaker, trying to call off his attack dogs. “always on a hair trigger, those two,” he’d mumble under his breath. but the minute he hears what they’re saying or gets a punch thrown his way, he’s right there in the fray with everyone else. he tells himself it’s in defense of his boys, but he can’t deny the fire that burns hot in his belly when someone insults you. kyle is the last to join, but that doesn’t mean he’s not as passionate as the rest of them. he’s been chirping across the ice the whole time, choosing to fight at arm’s length rather than engage in contact. after all, someone has to remain penalty-free in this whole mess. he’s easily provoked to lashing out, though. call his pretty thing a rude name one more time, he dares you.

you’re torn as you watch in the stands, the refs skating in and trying to break everyone up. you can see that someone’s injured; there’s drops of blood on the ice, so play isn’t resuming for at least another 10 minutes. you know this needs to stop, that they need to cool off. but something stirs in you, watching your men fight fisticuffs on the ice. you think you catch johnny look back to make sure you’re watching before throwing a particularly bruising right hook. but of course, it ends eventually. you’re there in the locker room while the rink staff scrapes the ice to clean it, nursing johnny’s split lip while checking in with the rest. they’re all fine, thank goodness, just a couple bruised jaws and egos. "y'should see th'other guy," johnny mutters around the paper towel you're holding against his lip.

cheeky bastards, you think to yourself. always getting into trouble.

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

a/n: i am so proud of the boys and what they accomplished after everyone counted them out 💙🧡 can’t wait for next year when they’ve had a full training camp with patrick and they come back better than ever 🤍

tw: child goes “missing” for a brief moment, mild innuendo

word count: 2.9k

summary: the msg broadcast gets double the barzal men for a little bit

Offering to take the girls to the arena for a game seems like it’s a great idea until you’ve got Talia, both Martin girls, and Tulsa Horvat begging for pretzels mid-way through the second. Normally you’d have at least one of Syd or Holly with you, but since the outing is for Talia’s birthday, you’d thought it would be fine to just take the girls yourself. That you’d be a good friend, letting Syd and Holly have their Thursday night free, since all of your husbands are retired now and they don’t have to come to the arena if they don’t want to.

But Max is getting antsy and Talia is yapping your ear off - much like her father - begging for snacks.

“Mom, please, I’m starving,” she pokes her lip out at you in a pout and widens her hazel eyes. She looks unfairly like Mat when she makes that expression even though her general looks had shifted to favor yours as she got older. You’ve never really been able to say no to either kid anyway.

“Can you at least watch your brother while I go get snacks?” You ask, lifting your eyebrow and twisting your hair back into a slightly sloppy ponytail. Max swings his legs in his seat next to you, grinning at his big sister. His hat dips over his eyes and you make a mental note to adjust the strap.

Talia looks at you as if you just asked her to swallow a cup of live spiders. “Mom, please no! I don’t even know why we brought him, today was supposed to be for my birthday,” she whines a little, those pre-teen hormones working overtime. Two weeks from turning eleven, and you find yourself missing your baby girl more and more each day. She’s usually a pretty polite and delightful kid, but something about that upcoming eleventh birthday is creating that familiar teenage whine you’d been so good at back in the day. You should really call and apologize to your mother.

Max pipes up without taking his eyes off the action on the ice, “your birthday’s not even today!”

“Thank you, Max,” you hold a hand out in front of his face, covering his mouth, as Talia shoots him a glare. Max wiggles away from your hand, his head bobbing in every direction as he tries to see the players. “I should’ve known this would happen.” You pinch the bridge of your nose with your free hand.

The only reason Talia had picked this game for her birthday is because of Jack Cizikas’s last minute call up from the AHL. Her puppy crush on him is something you and Kristy like to joke about, but right now you’re not laughing. Casey, Kristy, Reese, and Cole are up in a suite with the grandparents for the moment and you should’ve just sent Max up there to join them, but your five-year-old is still a little clingy. He loves the Cizikas family, hero-worships ten-year-old Cole, but when you’d suggested it, his face had crumpled and he’d said, “I wanna stay with you, Mama!”

Who were you to argue with that?

“Okay, I’ll take Max with me, but Win,” you raise your voice and look down a few seats at Winnie Martin, the oldest of your babysitting charges at fifteen, “do not leave these seats until I get back, okay?”

Winnie grins at you, Matt’s smile copy and pasted onto her face. She gives you a little salute and nods, “you got it.”

Talia turns back to the girls, completely ignoring you, and you roll your eyes a little before holding out your hand to Max. “Come on, buddy. Let’s go get some snacks,” you say, savoring the feeling of his little hand in yours. You never know when he’ll start thinking he’s too cool for his mom, so you’ll enjoy it while it lasts.

“Can I get ice cream?” He asks, skipping along next to you. He gives Sparky a high five when you pass the mascot at the top of the stairs.

You laugh a little and point Sparky and his handler in the direction of the girls. “I’m sure Winnie will love to see you,” you say, nostalgia washing over you as you think about the early years of your relationship with Mat and Winnie’s love for the dragon. Sparky nods and gives you an enthusiastic thumbs up, before bounding down the stairs. It’s a different person in the costume now, obviously, but you all had made sure to keep Winnie humbled by making sure each iteration of the Sparky knew to stop and see her at a game. The teen plays along gamely, her mother’s daughter.

Max tugs on your hand, drawing your attention. “Mama! Can I get ice cream?” He repeats his request and you shake your head.

“Nope, sorry, kid. It’s past your sugar cutoff,” you shake his arm when he pouts and kicks his Nike against the floor, nearly tripping himself as he tries to keep walking. “I’ll split a pretzel with you though.”

“I don’t wanna pretzel,” he whines, dragging his feet as he traipses behind you. You dodge a few people, tugging Max along. He keeps whining a little, complaining under his breath, and you pinch at the bridge of your nose before squatting down so you’re at his eye level.

Max goes quiet, but his whole face scrunches up in annoyance and you smile softly. “If you have ice cream now, you’re not going to be able to sleep. And remember that Daddy’s coming on your field trip tomorrow so don’t you want to be well rested for that?” You raise an eyebrow at him while Max considers your explanation.

The line shifts forward while Max is considering and you smile awkwardly up at the family in line behind you, silently apologizing for not moving. The mother waves you off with a polite smile too. Solidarity.

“Can I have ice cream tomorrow then?” Max finally asks and negotiating with the tiny terrorist wasn’t on your to do list today, but you nod anyway, knowing it’ll bite you in the ass tomorrow.

“Yes, after your field trip you can have a little ice cream,” you stand up, knees creaking a bit, and move forward on the line. Matter settled, you hook your fingers in the back collar of Max’s Horvat jersey, worn because ‘Uncle Bo is the coolest!’ much to Mat’s annoyance and your amusement. At the self-serve counter, you grab five pretzels - even if Max doesn’t want to share, you still want a snack - and a Diet Coke, hoping for a quick burst of energy. You let go of Max’s jersey to fish your phone out of your back pocket and tap it against the reader.

“Okay, Max, back to -“ you cut yourself off, looking down at your side and not seeing Max. “Max? Oh, fuck. Where did he go?”

Your heart hammers in your chest, slight panic rising when you scan the concourse and don’t spot your kindergartener. “Fuck,” you mutter under your breath, the only thing keeping your panic at a reasonable level is the fact that Max was quite literally almost born in the arena and knows it better than anyone. Of course that also means he could be hiding literally anywhere and never be found.

“I…okay, think like Max,” you step off to the side, against the wall, so you can figure out what to do. “Where the hell is he going to go?”

The muffled cheers of the crowd filter through the arena, signifying that the Islanders have added to their lead late in the second. You smile faintly and, like a lightning bolt to the head, realize where Max wandered off to. Or where you hope he wandered off to.

You book it towards the Lab and the MSG broadcast set up, trying to see around the crowds of people that are leaving their seats now that the second period is over. Obviously, you can’t see anything around all the people and the closer you get to the main stairs, the more panic you’re starting to feel, thinking about the girls back at the seats and what you’ll do if Max isn’t with Mat.

Once the cameras and desk come into view, your entire body unclenches, Max is happily perched on Mat’s hip, chattering away with Shannon while Mat and Thomas discuss the second period’s play. The cameras are on and your son is broadcasting live on MSG. You wiggle your way through the little crowd of people around the set and get to the front, by the retractable belt barriers, and try to catch Mat’s eye.

The second he spots you, his entire expression changes, a delighted smile stretching across his face and his eyes crinkling up at the corners. He looks like a twenty-something again, not the nearly forty-year-old he actually is.

“Max!” You hiss, trying not to be heard. “Send him over here!” You wave your free hand at the duo, Diet Coke wedged under your arm and pretzels getting squished in your hand.

Mat shakes his head at you and Thomas and Shannon look over too, all three of them laughing. Mat turns back to the camera, Max smiling like the cat that got the canary. “My wife’s trying to get our broadcast sidekick back,” he says, laughing. Mat bounces Max in his arms. “But I think we’ll keep him around for his color commentary.”

“No, oh my god,” you shake your head and gesture for Max to come back to you. “Mat, stop it.”

“Max,” Mat turns to look at your son, totally ignoring you, “what did you think of the game so far?”

Embracing the fact that Mat’s going to let Max join them for a while at least, you sigh and relax into the moment, watching Max perk up as he gets to discuss his favorite thing.

“I missed Matt’s goal,” he complains, Matt Maggio must’ve been the one to score when you noticed Max was missing. “But I like Jack the best ‘cause he’s funny and plays mini sticks. And also he gave me a piggy-back all day at Easter.”

Shannon laughs and chimes in, “we like Jack around here too. But hey, Max, I can show you Matt’s goal while your dad and Thomas discuss some of the finer points of the game.”

Max wiggles out of Mat’s arms and darts around Thomas’s back so he can stand with Shannon and watch the goal he missed. You snap a picture of Max’s head poking over the desk, heart melting at the sheer excitement on his face. You also notice the dozen texts littering your phone’s screen - a multitude of laughing emojis sent from the girls while they watch at home.

The fans around you are clearly eating up Max’s presence and you feel a little spike of anxiety thinking about how exposed he is to the public now, after keeping his and Talia’s faces mostly hidden on your social media pages. It’s always a little inevitable that the kids are seen with Mat out in public, but you almost wish you could snatch up all the phones recording video and taking pictures of Max as he points something out to Shannon on the iPad.

You take a nervous bite out of your pretzel and try to just enjoy the moment until they go to commercial when you can duck under the belt barrier. Mat grins boyishly at you, grabbing your waist to pull you in for a quick kiss. “Well, this is fun,” he says, pulling back from the kiss. “Family broadcast.”

“He is so stupid sneaky,” you shake your head, offering Mat the pretzel that you’d taken a bite out of. He accepts it and tears off a piece of his own. “And fast.”

Thomas laughs, leaning his forearms on the desk. “That’ll be helpful when he’s zipping around defensemen and scoring goals,” he teases before going to say hi to the fans and take selfies.

“Mom, look!” Max pops up at your side, holding a puck. Where did he get that?

“Pretty cool,” you smile down at him and let Mat lift him back up onto his hip. Max’s long legs kick at Mat’s thighs. “Where’d you get that, bud?”

“From Dad when I got here,” Max chirps. “Can I stay? Cause I don’t wanna be with the girls.”

He cuddles up against Mat’s shoulder, the father-son duo wearing matching hangdog, pleading expressions on their faces. The day Mat taught both kids the look was the worst day of your life, weakening your already minimal willpower. This time you have to say no, interrupting Mat while he’s working is only cute for so long.

“Sorry, Maxy,” you reply sympathetically. “We have to get back to the girls, but we’ll see Dad right after the game.”

Max whines loudly, reminding you that he’s still only five, and you chew on the inside of your lip. Mat pats Max on the back and whispers something in his ear, the extra lighting catching on the few greys that are starting to form in Mat’s dark hair. You wait while Mat talks quietly to your son, trying not to worry about coming back from commercial while you’re all standing in the middle of everything. Eventually, Max huffs an exasperated sigh and wiggles out of Mat’s grip again, slumping his way over to your side.

You smirk a little, “gee, don’t look so thrilled to come hang with your mom.”

Mat laughs and you roll your eyes at him.

“I wanted to stay with Dad,” Max pouts, little fingers gripping tightly onto the puck. “But he said that he’d take me to the locker room if I go with you.”

“Bribery,” Mat winks at you. “A dad’s best weapon.”

The ten second warning that the commercial is ending blinks and you grab Max’s hand, “okay, time to go back to the girls. We’ll see Dad later, okay?”

Max waves at Mat as you guide him away from the set. “Bye, Dad! Don’t forget I wanna see Jack and the locker room,” he shouts and you can hear Mat’s laughter boom over the noise of the crowd.

“I won’t forget Max, be good for Mom,” Mat calls out.

You hurry back to your seats, Max hopping along and waving to people as you go. He gives big, cheerful greetings to the ushers and security guards he recognizes, forcing you to stop when Sparky passes by so he can give the mascot a high-five and a hug around the legs.

“Max, baby, please. We can see Sparky later,” you sigh, a little worried about leaving the girls alone for so long. You know they’ll listen and not leave the seats, but you feel vaguely like a terribly mother/babysitter since they’ve been sitting by themselves for nearly twenty minutes.

Max pouts, but takes a hold of the hand you’re holding out for him and dutifully follows you back to the seats. He clambers over the couple at the end of the row and you apologize quickly for him, making another mental note to work on the kid’s manners.

“Where did you go?” Talia pops up in her seat like a meerkat, wrinkling her face at you in confusion. “We thought you, like, got kidnapped!”

“We didn’t get kidnapped,” you huff, passing around the pretzels. The girls thank you and turn back to the on-ice intermission action. Max reaches for your half eaten one too and you’re glad you at least got a bite in earlier. “Max ran off to see Dad.”

Max grins at his sister, mouth full of chewed pretzel. “Dad gave me a puck and I got to be on TV with him,” he manages to sound smug and excited all at the same time, waving the gifted puck in one hand.

Talia pouts a little, still childish despite how she tries to mimic the older girls.

“Eat your pretzel,” you twirl your finger to get her to look back at the ice. “There are a thousand pucks at home. Oh,” you add, “we’re going to head down to the locker room after the game. Dad promised Max.”

That gets the girls going, chattering about how they get to see Jack and the rest of the players, giggling like crazy while huddled together. You lean back in your seat, smiling softly at how cute they all are. Max is on his feet, dancing along to the arena music, waving both hands in the air - your little party animal. You send Mat a video of him dancing, teasing that father and son have the same moves.

He shoots back a gif of himself dancing at the Martins’ wedding more than fifteen years ago, making you laugh out loud, drawing the attention of all five kids. “Ignore me,” you laugh, waving a hand at them.

Another message from Mat vibrates your phone: leave the kids with marts and syd when you drop the girls off after the game, i wanna show you more of my moves 👀

Giggling like a high schooler with a crush, you take a minute to appreciate that Mat still makes you feel floaty and dizzy with love. Over ten years together and he still makes your heart skip a beat.

“Mom,” Talia’s voice slices through your thoughts, “what’s Dad saying? Because you look so weird.”

Schooling your features into a more neutral expression, you lean forward over the seat and ask, “how do you guys feel about a sleepover at Aunt Syd and Uncle Matt’s?”

[twistedminutia]

Leona and Malleus

Leona and Malleus’ relationship is pretty straightforward in the game: Leona doesn’t like Malleus and Malleus… doesn’t seem to particularly care about that one way or the other. Maybe? Honestly, it’s hard to tell what Malleus specifically thinks of Leona. But Leona’s feelings on Malleus are pretty clear cut. Leona doesn’t like him.

For the most part, Leona’s reasons for not liking Malleus also seem pretty clear cut. Malleus is the crown prince, the heir apparent to Briar Valley, and clearly well-respected in his own right. Leona, meanwhile, is the second born prince who won’t become king and who seems to be pretty unfairly maligned by people for it. He doesn’t like Malleus due to resentment, due to Malleus being everything Leona isn’t and can’t be. Right?

Yes, it’s probably true that Malleus being the crown prince is part of Leona’s dislike, I think there might be another part at play, something a bit more personal to Leona. First, we have to consider the timeline. We know that Leona came to school four years ago, and didn’t come until a year after he received his acceptance letter, which is why he’s two years older than the other third-year students. He wasn’t going to come to NRC at all originally, but he was prompted to come a year later due to the birth of Cheka. He doesn’t stare this explicitly, but the birth of the newest heir to the throne seems to have made things emotionally worse for him- whether the new prince simply made Leona feel his place as the eternal spare was confirmed, or if people started brushing him aside more after Cheka’s birth, we don’t know. We do know that Leona left due to the atmosphere at home, and his inability to pass his previous year was likely due to self-sabotage to remain in school longer, rather than a genuine inability to pass his classes. When he needs to, Leona can demonstrate that he knows the material, so it’s not a matter of not studying.

Leona left home to avoid the likely emotional pain he felt after Cheka solidly took the throne from him, and is taking pains not to return. What does this have to do with Malleus? Consider Leona’s first year at Night Raven. He’s been there for four years, where Malleus has only been there for three, so his freshman year would have been before Malleus attended. Think about this scenario: Leona, after years of being in the shadow of his brother, gets time to himself. He does well in school, maybe, even gets some respect. He’s in Savanaclaw, and they’re a team that’s historically done well in Spelldrive. He plays and he’s a promising athlete, maybe even leading his team to victory. He wins. Savanaclaw wins and he’s a part of that.

For the first time in his life, Leona Kingscholar gets to be first.

And then Malleus arrives the year after that and completely destroys everyone in the Spelldrive tournament. And everything Leona had goes up in green flames.

No wonder Leona hates Malleus. He had something he could be first in- and then another prince who’d had the world handed to him on a silver platter came and took it all away.

This also makes Leona’s decision to trample Malleus a little more personal. He didn’t just want to get Malleus out of the tournament. He wanted Malleus to feel just as crushed as Leona did.

[cakemoney]

the speed with which brennan/evan decided to not only kill philtrum but to snap his wand to do so felt so satisfying (and hot), but also the way he did it (leaning into influencing the mind, directly shutting down the brain without any fanfare) draws a sharp contrast to the way philtrum chose to use magic, which is... not in an advantageous way given their location, right? if this was about getting them away from her/seizing the magical objects, she could've just as (or, given the rules as we understand them, much more) easily used some mind control/confusion spell to send them walking away. she wasn't casting intelligently given that magic is an extremely scarce resource there and also given that they're on the Mind magic island; she kind of just did exactly the sort of spell that was used to try to kill evan during the game in season 1, which makes sense given aabria's explanation of this being a group of people who would sacrifice anything to maintain their way of life and their sense of self.

and it just adds to the sinister energy to the island; it implies (perhaps unfairly, we have a sample size of one) that even after all this time on the island, they don't know what the island is about and why it costs them so much magic to do the things that used to be easy. they truly have no idea that they're on the fuck with your head island, probably because the island is fucking with their heads to keep them here and keep them hungry for magic and keep them from questioning if they should be living like this and make them spend every drop of magic that they can squeeze out of everything they have and everyone around them. this island is a like a massive parasite living in their minds pushing them to harvest resources that they think is necessary for their survival but is really being surrendered to feed the parasite. fuck man i KNEW the pretty green-grass blue-sky island was going to be the most fucked up one

[differentnerddiplomatopera]

more incorrect quotes

Diomedes: I think we can be evil, as a treat

Odysseus: we?

Diomedes: we :)

Odysseus: Okay so I’m pretty, gorgeous, and everyone’s type, which means everything is free game. I can do whatever.

Diomedes: That, I fear, is unfairly accurate 

Odysseus: Look, if you think you're unattractive, look in the mirror. Now you know you're unattractive. Education.

Odysseus to Diomedes: Would you like to stay for dinner?

Penelope: WOULD YOU LIKE TO STAY FOREVER?

Aegiale: You’re not good enough for my ex-husband.

Penelope: You’re not good enough for your ex-husband.

Aegiale: I’m sorry?

Penelope: Did I fucking stutter hoe?

Flight Attendant: Please make sure all your small items are secured.

Penelope: Do you feel secure, hon?

Odysseus: Ha - ha - haaaaa

Penelope: I’m asking permission to marry Diomedes

Odysseus: What, why are you asking-he isn’t my sheltered daughter who I must keep hidden away-you know what? No. Break out the Petteia, now you gotta earn his hand.

Odysseus: Do you like me?

Penelope/Diomedes: We married you.

Odysseus: Ok, but did you marry me as a friend or as a husband? It was unclear

Odysseus: [looking at Diomedes] I can fix him.

Penelope: You are literally worse.

Penelope: [looking at Odysseus] I couldn’t fix him but I think I could top him

[chelseachilly]

so high school

pairing: reader x ben chilwell summary: you and ben have been friends for years, but you haven't seen him much since you left chelsea for another job opportunity. all it takes is an engagement party, a bit of alcohol and a drinking game to bring the feelings you've been harbouring for years to the surface... warnings: hints of smut, alcohol use word count: 5k

author’s note: this fic has been SUCH a long time coming! it started as an idea from a request i got like a year ago asking for a friends to lovers fic involving spin the bottle, and then i got re-inspired to finish when 'so high school' by taylor swift came out. please note this takes place last summer since that's when i started writing it lol, and hope you enjoy!

-

You didn’t really know what to expect when you arrived at Kai and Sophia’s place, but you figured it would be a somewhat classy evening. 

You’ve had your fair share of wild nights with this group of friends - the night in Porto after the Champions League win comes to mind - but you’re all a little older now and you are celebrating Kai and Sophia’s engagement, after all. You thought it would be a relaxed, grown-up party. 

Evidently, you thought wrong.

Kai is already clearly drunk when he greets you at the door with a massive hug, and you can hear Sophia squeal as she comes running to hug you too.

“Congratulations, you two!” you exclaim, hugging Sophia back. It’s the first time you’ve seen them since the engagement, and you’re over the moon for them. 

“Thank you!” Sophia grins, proudly showing off her ring when she pulls away, beaming at Kai. “Now come on, everyone’s already here and they’re excited to see you!”

You knew you were running a bit late, but you don’t realize how late until you walk into a living room filled with drunk footballers. You know most of them, except for a couple of Kai’s new Arsenal teammates you haven’t had the chance to meet before. Reece is here, Timo, Kepa, even Mason is in town for the night.

And, of course, on the couch next to Mason is Ben, whose face lights up when he sees you.

When you got a job on Chelsea’s media team in 2019, you were pleasantly surprised by how quickly you became friends with many of the players. During your very first week, Mason invited you to a party at his house, and from that point forward you’ve been close with a lot of the boys and their partners. 

They’re now like family to you, regardless of if they’re still playing for Chelsea. Many of the boys have now gone in different directions, and you yourself left the club for an incredible job opportunity at Sky Sports a few months ago, but you wouldn’t miss an important occasion like this one for the world.

Even if that means you have to see the one person who has always made your legs weak and your brain turn to mush. The one you’ve missed significantly more than all the rest of the guys since your departure.

The one that you’re pretty sure you fell for the day he signed for Chelsea and you bumped into him in a hallway at Cobham.

Ben Chilwell. 

“Y/N!” Ben exclaims, jumping up to hug you. As usual, he looks unfairly hot in just a white t-shirt and black shorts. “You’re finally here!”

You sink into his embrace, breathing in his familiar scent before the hug is over - which is far too quickly for your liking.

“Yeah, can someone get me a drink or did you lot finish off the bar already?” you joke, pulling back to meet Ben’s gaze. 

“On it,” Mason offers before Ben can say anything, giving you a quick peck on the cheek on his way over to the bar. 

As Mason makes you a strong drink so you can catch up to everyone else’s level, you turn back to Ben and find him still looking at you with those bright blue-green eyes and the warm smile that captivated you from the start. 

“How’s your summer been?” you ask quickly, trying to ignore the butterflies erupting in your stomach from just being in his presence.

It’s been a couple of months now since you’ve seen him, but you’ve seen on his Instagram that he’s spent his summer at F1 races and on yachts while you’ve been stuck working in London. 

“Good, it’s been way too long since I’ve seen you, though,” Ben says sincerely. “How’s life as a hotshot producer for Sky?”

“Busy,” you reply, trying not to blush at his previous comment. “I’m liking it, but I do miss Chelsea. You know, the atmosphere at the club, all the familiar faces.”

“The club misses you too, trust me,” Ben says without missing a beat.

You don’t have time to respond before Mason is thrusting a drink into your hand and Sophia is tugging you away to discuss early wedding plans. 

After an hour or so, you’ve quickly relaxed back into a familiar state of comfort with your friends. Even if you don’t see each other as much as you would like these days, and it’s only going to get harder to make time when the season starts, these people still mean the world to you. 

At some point, after you’re a few drinks deep - you’ve definitely toasted to Kai and Sophia’s engagement with at least 3 different bottles of champagne at this point - and have made the rounds to talk to everyone, you feel someone grab your hand and tug you down onto the couch. 

You let out a surprised squeak, and your heart rate doesn’t settle down at all once you realize who grabbed you - who you’re now sitting so close to that your legs are touching. 

The entire time you’ve been here, you’ve been trying to resist going back over to chat with Ben, even though you’ve felt a magnetic pull in his direction from the moment you laid eyes on him. You’ve been sneaking glances at him whenever you can, admiring the way his eyes light up when he talks or the way he runs his fingers through his hair when he’s thinking about something, but you haven’t had a moment alone since he greeted you.

“What’s up, Chilly?” you ask, chuckling at his content expression. “You pretty drunk?”

“Just buzzed,” Ben smiles. “You know, last hurrah before the season starts.”

“You didn’t have enough fun frolicking around the Mediterranean for a month?” 

The question leaves your mouth before you can think about what you’re saying, and you see the way his eyebrows immediately raise and a slightly smug look appears on his face.

“Someone’s been stalking my Insta,” he smirks. “You miss me or something, Y/N?”

You take a small sip of your drink, staring down at your lap before answering him. Some combination of the buzz and the party and just him makes you briefly emboldened to tell the truth. 

“Yeah, maybe I did.”

When you look up, Ben’s eyes immediately lock with yours, and you suddenly feel your cheeks growing hotter and your stomach in knots. 

There’s always been some unexplored tension lingering beneath your friendship.

Nothing has ever actually happened between the two of you, although there are a few times it probably could have (and one time it almost did) if you weren’t trying to be professional and not hook up with one of the players at the club you worked for.

A club you no longer work for, you realize. 

“I missed you too, Y/N,” he says in a slightly lower voice that sends a shiver up your spine.

You continue to look into each other’s eyes, the tension seeming to build with each second, until Sophia plops down beside you and interrupts the moment.

“Alright, we’re playing a drinking game,” she declares, setting a deck of cards on the table in front of you. 

“Is that really necessary at this point?” you joke, gesturing to the fairly inebriated group of people around you.

“No, but it will be fun,” Sophia grins. “And I’m the bride-to-be, so I’m in charge.”

It’s a simple game to follow, thankfully. It’s essentially a version of truth or dare where the questions and challenges are pre-written on the cards. You go around the circle a few times, and thankfully you get some fairly easy ones, like revealing the name of your first crush (who nobody here knows) and taking a shot of the alcohol of your choice.

It’s entertaining watching the boys complete some pretty outlandish dares, and you’re excited to see what crazy task Ben ends up with when you see him draw a dare card from his spot next to you.

“Alright,” Ben says before reading his card aloud to the group. “Kiss the person…to your left.”

Even in your slightly inebriated state, it doesn’t take you long to realize that you’re the person to his left, meaning Ben has to kiss you. 

The room goes silent as the implication of this settles in. You’re certain at least half of the people here have had some kind of wager at some point over when you and Ben would get together, but you always brushed it off and joked that it would never happen.

Nothing has ever technically happened between you, other than flirtation and the occasional touches. You’ve never kissed him, despite how many times you’ve wanted to. 

There was one time you almost let your desire get the better of you, right after the Club World Cup win in Abu Dhabi. 

You were both caught up in the excitement of the win, and you’d been spending a lot of time together outside of work lately as Ben was recovering from his ACL injury and you wanted to support him as much as possible. 

You knew it was hard for him not to be a part of the win that day, to have to watch from the sidelines as his team emerged victorious. So, you spent basically the entire day with him, sitting with him during the game and staying close by during the celebrations afterward. 

Toward the end of the night, you ended up alone with him in a corner booth of the restaurant the club had rented out for the party. Nobody was paying much attention to the two of you, everyone still caught up in the excitement and dancing the night away. 

“Thank you, Y/N,” Ben said, gazing at you intently as he set down his drink, which wasn’t his first of the night (or third or fourth). 

“For what?” you asked a bit shyly. “I haven’t done anything.”

“You’ve done everything,” he corrected quickly. “I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you.”

You weren’t sure if he meant physically there in Abu Dhabi, as you were the one that had encouraged him to come, or where he was mentally in his recovery at the moment. You’d done everything you could to help him through it, but there was only so much you could do. You weren’t a doctor, or a time-traveller that could magically stop the injury from happening, or even his girlfriend. You were just a friend with no medical knowledge, trying to help without overstepping any boundaries. 

You were just a girl who was head over heels for one of her best friends. 

“Ben, I haven’t…I’m just being a friend,” you said softly. “You’re the one who’s faced this setback head-on, never complaining or giving up. And you’re almost there. I’m so proud of you.”

For a moment, you saw a look in his eyes you didn’t recognize, one that made your heart flutter uncontrollably. The next moment, Ben began to lean in, his eyes flickering to your lips, and you had never wanted anything so badly in your life as you wanted to kiss him.

But you knew you couldn’t. Not when he was drunk and vulnerable and had been relying on you for emotional support for months. He was sad and confused and you knew he would regret it in the morning, and you would regret letting yourself feel something that wasn’t real.

“I, um…” you muttered quickly, pulling away from him. “We should go to bed. Early flight home tomorrow.”

Ben just stared blankly at you for a moment. “Y/N, I’m sorry, I-I’ve just had too much to drink and-“

“Don’t worry about it, Chilly, seriously,” you said, reverting back to the nickname you’ve used for most of your friendship, worried that the if you spoke his first name right now, the pure adoration you harbour for him would come through in the way it left your tongue. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

You quickly squeezed his shoulder as you got up from the table, making your way to the exit as stealthily as possible to avoid having to talk to anyone else. 

The moment you got back to your hotel room, you cried over Ben Chilwell for the first time. You cried in a way you hadn’t even after breakups. 

You cried because you knew he would never be yours, and you had to accept that. 

That night was over a year ago now, and you and Ben never spoke a word about what nearly happened between you. There were certainly moments since where he looked at you with that same glint in his eye, and you allowed your mind to wander as to whether he was feeling some deeper for you, but these hopes were always quickly dashed when he went home with some model or bid you goodnight without acknowledging the tension between you. 

You took the job at Sky, and started seeing him much less often, which wasn’t exactly intentional but wasn’t totally an accident, either. It certainly made your life easier not having to suppress your feelings for him at work everyday. 

Until now. 

Now, when he’s looking right at you with those eyes and you’ve never wanted anything more than to kiss him. 

“Uh…” Ben looks at you and scratches the back of his neck. “It’s up to you-“

“Just do it, Chilly,” you say with a sudden burst of confidence and a bit of recklessness, turning on the couch to face him properly.

Something flashes in Ben’s eyes for a moment - maybe surprise, maybe pure elation - but he doesn’t take long to act on your instruction. 

He grabs your face with both hands and leans in to kiss you firmly. He tastes a bit like beer, but he’s so warm and his lips are softer than you imagined - and you imagined them a lot. 

Everyone cheers and hollers at the kiss, but you can hardly hear them while you’re so singularly focused on the feeling of Ben’s lips on yours.

It’s over before you can properly enjoy it, making you wish desperately that there weren’t so many people here and you could grab him and kiss him over and over again.

“That’s gonna be tough to beat,” Mason jokes from across the table as you and Ben are silently reeling from the kiss you just shared. “I think we should call the game, Soph.”

Everyone else murmurs in agreement, and they begin to get up to get more drinks or continue to chat. But you remain frozen in place, only able to move enough to glance over at Ben, who is still looking at you. 

“Y/N,” Ben breathes your name. “I…”

“I should go,” you say quickly.

You immediately have deja vu to the night he nearly kissed you, how quickly you ran off, but this time is different - now that you know how good it feels to kiss him, there’s no way you can stay another moment in his presence without doing it again. 

“Wait, please,” Ben says, gripping your hand before you can stand up. “Can I give you a lift home?”

“You’re driving?” you ask in confusion, knowing that even if he’s not fully drunk, he’s certainly not sober enough to drive a car.

“No, no, I’ll just get an Uber and have it drop you off first,” he insists. “Make sure you get home okay.”

You know it doesn’t really make sense logistically, as you live much farther away than he does, but you can’t resist the temptation of his soft voice or the way his thumb is caressing the back of your hand. 

“Okay, sure.”

Ben gives you a small smile before pulling out his phone to call the car. 

Once he’s ordered it, you both quickly grab your things and say your goodbyes, ignoring the curious looks and knowing smirks you get when you say you’re sharing an Uber. 

Within five minutes, Ben is opening the door for you to climb into the back of a fancy black SUV, and then sliding in tantalizingly close to you. 

You feel like you’re going to explode with desire for him. 

“You alright?” Ben asks you after another minute has passed, and the look on his face gives you the sense that he’s been working up the courage to say something to you. 

You nod, holding his gaze and trying to keep your heartbeat under control. 

“Do you remember that night in Abu Dhabi, when we…”

You can feel your cheeks growing hotter as you nod, trying to process the fact that Ben not only remembers that moment between you but is choosing right now to bring it up. 

“You were drunk,” you remind him.

“Yeah, but I still - I still meant it. And I still remember how gorgeous you looked that night. You always do, really, but-“

“Ben,” you cut him off, unable to hear another word from him if this is going to end the same way it did last time. “I think you’re drunk now, too.”

“I’m really not,” he says in a steady enough voice that you’re inclined to believe him. And, now that you think about it, you don’t think you saw him have more than a few beers all night. “Are you?”

You shake your head, managing only a small gulp in response as you meet Ben’s intense gaze.  

“Y/N…” he says, barely above a whisper as he leans in closer. “Can I…”

“Your place,” you reply without a beat. Your brain is fogged by how much you want to kiss him again, but clear enough to know that once you start, you aren’t going to want to stop. “It’s closer than mine.”

Ben stares at you for another moment, just processing your words, before he nods and turns to the driver, asking him to skip the first address and go straight to his. 

It’s only a ten minute drive from there, but you’re so full of nervous anticipation for what’s to come that it feels like hours. 

By the time you pull up to his house and get out of the car, you still can’t quite believe what’s happening. Ben quickly unlocks the door and holds it open for you to enter his house. You haven’t been here in a while, but it’s as big as you remember it from all the times you’ve been here for a party or movie night. 

It shouldn’t be awkward being here, except for the fact that you haven’t really been alone since the night of your almost-kiss. And the fact that your first actual kiss was less than an hour ago. 

“Can I, erm-do you want some water?” Ben offers, gesturing to the kitchen. 

You nod with a small, nervous smile and follow him into the next room. 

The kitchen is dimly lit, the only light source coming from the hallway and the stove light as Ben  grabs two glasses and fills them both with water. He passes one to you, and you thank him quietly before taking a sip. 

“Been a while since you’ve been here,” he remarks, perhaps reliving all the same memories you have been since you walked through the door. 

“I know,” you say, setting your glass down and taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry I’ve been a bit distant since I left Chelsea. It was just…easier.”

“I’m sorry if I fucked our friendship by trying to kiss you at the totally wrong time,” Ben says sincerely. “But honestly, I’m more sorry for not trying again since.”

That’s all it takes for you to take the few steps between you and crash your lips to his, immediately throwing your arms around his neck to steady yourself. 

Ben stumbles in shock for a moment before his hands find your waist and he kisses you back with equal passion, backing you up against the kitchen island. 

You moan slightly as he parts your lips with his tongue, tangling your fingers in his hair. Kissing him like this, with no restraint, is something you’ve craved for so long that you can hardly wrap your head around the fact that it’s happening. 

You let out a small squeal of surprise as Ben’s hands move to your thighs and he hoists you up onto the counter, never breaking contact with your lips. Your legs subconsciously tighten around him, and the friction makes Ben groan into your mouth. 

Kissing Ben is everything you dreamt it would be and more. No guy has ever made you feel a fraction of the way he is right now, and all you can think about is how good it would feel to have him inside you. 

You know how badly you want him, and it’s pretty clear that he wants you just the same, but you have just enough sanity left to know that you can’t just be another one of the girls he’s slept with. You’ve liked him too much, and for too long, to be just another notch in his bedpost. This has to mean more to him, too.

“Ben,” you sigh, reluctantly breaking the kiss and feeling your heart palpitating as you open your eyes and see his swollen lips and dilated pupils. “I…I’ve wanted this for a long time.”

“Me too, baby,” he smiles, and the new pet name alone is almost enough to make you cave on the spot and kiss him again. 

“I don’t just mean like this,” you say, hoping he understands what you mean. “I mean I want more with you. Something real.”

It’s the most terrifying moment of your life as you wait for him to respond, not sure what to expect. But when a wide grin breaks out on his face and he lets go of your waist to gently cup your face in both hands, your heart flutters uncontrollably. 

“I want that too, Y/N,” he says softly. “I’ve wanted it from the moment I first saw you, in the hallway at Cobham my first time there. You were wearing that flowy white dress, and I was so nervous being there, but you just smiled at me and introduced yourself and I felt so…safe.”

“You remember what I was wearing?” you ask in astonishment, thinking back to your first encounter with him. You have a similar memory of thinking he was the fittest guy you’d ever seen and how you could get lost in his eyes for hours. 

“Of course,” Ben smiles, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, those same eyes sparkling. “And I remember thinking I couldn’t believe my luck that I signed for my dream club and met my dream girl on the same day.”

You let out a shaky breath, your eyes beginning to water from the heightened emotions you’re experiencing. 

“I-I never knew you felt the same,” you breathe. “Why did you never…”

“At first, I didn’t want to ask you out because I thought it might be frowned upon at the club and I didn’t want to break any rules or do anything inappropriate,” Ben explains. “And then we became such good friends, I didn’t think you would feel that way about me. When I tried to kiss you in Abu Dhabi and you turned me down, I took that as your answer.”

“God, no, Ben, I wanted to let you kiss me so badly,” you sigh. “I just couldn’t take advantage of you. You were drunk and emotional about the injury and…”

“I know, I know, it’s okay,” Ben assures you, pecking your nose quickly. “Now we both know how we feel, right?” 

You nod, resting your forehead against his for a moment and just taking this all in. You’ve wanted to be close to him like this for years, and to have it finally be a reality is almost too much to take. 

“Kiss me again?” you ask quietly. 

All you see is another quick flash of Ben’s grin before he leans in and presses his lips to yours. 

It only takes a moment to escalate back to the same passion you were both displaying before, and Ben’s hands move back to your thighs to pull you closer to him again.

You can feel your desperation for him growing by the second as his tongue explores your mouth and his hands roam your body. You reach for the hem of his t-shirt and pull it upward without breaking the kiss, making Ben chuckle as he helps you in your effort to remove it and tosses it on the floor. 

You immediately move your hands to his sides, feeling the toned muscles you’ve admired from afar all these years. 

The sundress you’re wearing gives him easy access to where you need him most, and his hand is tantalizing close as it rests on your upper thigh. 

“Ben, please,” you groan. “I want…can you-"

You’re interrupted by your own gasp of surprise as Ben tugs you closer and lifts you up off the counter. Your legs tighten around him reflexively, and the friction created makes you gasp again, this time in sheer pleasure. 

“Been waiting too long for this to not do it properly,” Ben says, punctuating his sentence with another, softer kiss. “You wanna go upstairs?”

You just nod and shift slightly to try to get down, but Ben only tightens his grip on your thighs and begins to walk toward the stairs. You continue to exchange sloppy kisses as he ascends the staircase, and you’re turned on even more by the strength and ease with which he carries you up to his room. 

He kicks open the door and gently lays you down on the bed before reaching over to flick on the lamp. You take a moment to take in your surroundings. Of all the times you’ve been in his house, you’ve never been in his bedroom. It’s cleaner than you expected, and a bit cozier and more lived-in than the rest of the house. There’s a book on his nightstand that you can’t quite make out the title of, and a photo of him and his family next to it. 

It feels like Ben, and you feel completely at home.

Ben climbs over you and begins to kiss you again, and your hands immediately fly to his shorts to help take them off. Once they’re discarded and he’s in nothing but his boxers, you can feel how hard he is pressed up against you. 

“Are you sure?” Ben asks softly, though you can see him biting his lip in anticipation as you lightly stroke him over the thin material.

You nod, maintaining eye contact as you quickly pull off your own underwear and toss them aside.

“I’m sure.”

Ben leans in to kiss you again, and you let out a sigh of pleasure as you let yourself surrender completely to the ecstasy of being with him. 

-

“I can’t believe we waited this long to do this,” you sigh dreamily.

You’re curled up in Ben’s arms, lying with your head on his chest and an arm and a leg draped over him. You’re both still catching your breath a bit after the most perfect, mind-blowing sex you’ve ever had in your life. You always knew he would be good in bed, or at least you thought he would be, but he truly surpassed all of your expectations. 

“I know,” Ben murmurs, pressing a reverent kiss to your temple. “I wish I had the courage to tell you sooner, but you’re so important to me. And a part of me also thought I would never have a shot with you.” 

You prop your chin up on his chest to look him in the eye, furrowing your eyebrows. “You thought that you, a super fit, gorgeous footballer would never have a shot with me? Are you being serious?”

Ben nods shyly, as if he didn’t just go down on you until you were seeing stars and screaming his name in pleasure less than 30 minutes ago. 

“You’re beautiful, Y/N, and you’re the smartest person I know,” he says, almost certainly making your cheeks redden. “You’re definitely out of my league.”

“Please, Ben, you spent the whole summer with Instagram models with perfect bodies,” you remind him, a bit ashamed of how insecure it made you seeing him all over social media with so many women you know you look nothing like. 

He laughs softly before shaking his head and pressing a soft kiss to your nose. “No, my mates spent time with those girls who don’t compare to you at all while I sat around feeling sorry for myself and missing you.”

You can’t resist leaning in to kiss him firmly on the lips, your hand tangling in his messy hair. Your heart is so full of affection for this boy already that you know it’s only a matter of time before you fall even deeper for him than you already have.

“You know, maybe it’s a good thing we waited,” you say when you break apart, your fingers still threaded through his hair. “We’re both a little older and more mature now, and we don’t work together anymore. If we’re going to do this, we should do it properly, right?”

Ben smiles sheepishly. “Does that mean you’re my girl now?”

You stiffen, a little surprised by his question even if it’s far from the biggest surprise you’ve gotten tonight. 

“I, um-well, if you want-“

“You already know what I want, babe,” Ben says with a soft expression on his face. “I meant it when I said you’re my dream girl. I want everything with you, Y/N.”

“Alright,” you reply, a wide smile breaking out on your face as well. “Then I’m all yours, Chilwell.”

You both lean in for a kiss at the same time, giggling softly against each other’s lips. You’re so giddy that it’s actually a challenge to kiss him properly, soft moans mixed with the glorious sound of his laughter. 

You don’t think you could ever get enough of this.

And as you drift off in Ben’s arms a bit later that night, after going another round and exchanging a few more soft goodnight kisses and tender words, you make a mental note to buy Sophia and Kai a really nice wedding present. You certainly owe them one.

-

a/n: please let me know what you thought of this, it makes my day getting feedback 💓 thank you for reading!

[shinobicyrus]

This week, Supreme Court Justice Samuel "goes on expensive fishing trips with republican megadonors" Alito decided to use an official Supreme Court order to once again rail against same-sex marriage and the entire concept of safeguarding queer rights.

It was all in response to a case the Supreme Court declined to hear involving the dismissal of 3 potential jurors who claimed that they had been unfairly passed over (yes they're complaining about not being selected for jury duty) due to their religious beliefs. The case involved a woman who was suing her employer for sexual discrimination and retaliation after she started dating the ex-girlfriend of a male coworker. The 3 potential jurors that had not been selected had stated a belief to the court that homosexuality is a sin.

Rather than commenting on the obvious bias three potential jurors had against a party in the case, Alito instead spent five pages ranting about the sheer injustice that had been done to them. The case, he said, fully exemplified the "danger" that he'd predicted back in 2015, when the Supreme Court had legalized same sex marriage nationwide (in a slim 5-4 vote, I will remind):

"Namely, that Americans who do not hide their adherence to traditional religious beliefs about homo-sexual conduct will be labeled as bigots and treated as such by the government."

Again this was a case in which a court ultimately decided that maybe people who believed that homosexuals were sinful shouldn't sit on a case in which one of the parties was one such "sinner." That sounds pretty fair to me; they didn't call them bigots, or evil, or throw them in jail. The court just decided that maybe they weren't a good fit for that particular case. For that particular plaintiff.

But no, a Supreme Court Justice, someone who is supposed to be a scholar of law, turned it in his mind into a government assault against "people of good will."

Never forget how narrow that marriage equality decision had been. Never forget Alito and Thomas are still salty about it 9 years later and have stated in public multiple times they want to revisit this decision. Just like Roe, just like Miranda Rights, just like the Voting Rights Act - they will gut civil rights and established precedent on the altar of their Originalism and make us beholden to the tenets of their personal Gods.

And they're doing it in public too, so they can signal to everyone who thinks like them to keep trying, you have friends here. You have a sure chance of victory.

At the very least, the lesbian with mad game won her case.

[plzu]

TASM!Peter Parker x Fem!Plus-Size Reader

summary: boardwalk & amusement park date with peter (college-aged peter & reader) warnings: inaccurate depictions of what it's like if a ferris wheel gets struck by lightning idk, fluff & hurt/comfort (reader is insecure) a/n: end of summer fic that i decided to use to write a plus-size reader who will never be too heavy to be carried away by spider-man :] because why are characters with super strength always paired with dainty damsels? if they can lift cars they can carry my overweight ass ♡ wordcount: 4.3k

Peter Parker is a Boy and a Friend, but he is not your Boyfriend. Something that's usually pretty easy to remember, but then there are times where it's just the two of you, shoulders bumping against each other, when the sparks between you feel static and sweet and not-so-platonic.

This breezy summer afternoon has been one of those days, Peter's singular attention making your heart flutter up a storm. Unfortunately, it was clashing with the insecurity that had reared its ugly head the past week, and had kept you locked away in your bedroom, avoiding mirrors and people and watching mind-numbing television. Peter had shown up after one too many days of not seeing you, and successfully coaxed you out of your room with the unfairly intoxicating combination of his puppy-dog brown eyes and stupidly charming smile. You're almost embarrassed by how hard it is to say no to him.

“I’m not gonna let you let these last few weeks of summer go to waste.” He said, stepping through the threshold of your bedroom.

You'd let a hundred summers go to waste while waiting for sweater weather if it meant being able to hide your body from everyone. Instead of admitting this to Peter, of course, you just grumbled that Fall's better.

“True,” he agreed, but then crossed your bedroom to crack open the blinds, letting sunlight spill through. “But we shouldn’t wait for a whole other season to get some fresh air, Sunshine.”

Turns out the fresh air Peter was referring to was salt-licked and sweet, ice cream cones in hand as you strolled the creaky boardwalk of Coney Island. It really was a beautiful day out. The summer swelter had finally given way to delicious cool breezes that ruffled the loose hem of your t-shirt. The fattest, fluffiest clouds lazily drifted across the piercing blue sky, cotton white and lovely.

It's the kind of day that should be spent outside. Peter was absolutely unequivocally correct about that. It makes you grateful to him for once again dragging you out of your comfort zone. He’s good at that. Coming to the rescue when you start to disappear in on yourself. Usually, it melts away your insecurities, or at least pushes them to the back of your mind until they’re easy to forget. 

Today, though, this outing feels more like a date than your other hangouts with Pete, not helped by how nice he looks in his light and airy button down, buttons undone to reveal a casual white t-shirt underneath, nor by the massive crush you’ve had on him since pretty much the day you met, or the fact that you’ve secretly romanticized boardwalks and amusement parks and beaches (despite not being a fan of being at the beach, and despite this beach being in Brooklyn). So you keep shying away from eye contact, giggling nervously, tripping over your words or just keeping uncharacteristically quiet. 

“I know what’ll put a smile on your face,” Peter says, leading you towards the section of the park with all the games and weaving between raucous children. 

“Am I- am I not smiling?” 

Peter makes a show of squinting back at you and your unsure mouth, head tilting left and right with uncertainty. “Hmm…” He pauses, sucks in air between his teeth. “I think we can do better, Sunshine.” The nickname is punctuated by a brief and gentle brush of his knuckle beneath your chin that surely would have set you aflame had a breeze not taken pity on you in that moment. 

Peter settles you both in front of some game that involves basketball hoops. Bright, colorful plushies both big and small line the walls inside the game booth, touted as potential prizes. 

Peter notices you eyeing them “‘M gonna win you the biggest one.”

“What?” You laugh. “Peter, no, we took the train here.”

He’s already giving the guy working the booth the ticket needed for playing. “If whole Mariachi bands with their instruments can stuff themselves into trains, I’m sure we can handle a giant teddy bear.”

You roll your eyes affectionately. “Okay, fine then. I want the giant Spider-Man.”

Peter breathes out a laugh, eyes falling away from yours. “Thought you’d want something cuter.”

“Spider-Man’s cute,” you defend. “Like, when he does his little flips and shit?”

Still not making eye contact, he throws his head back in a disbelieving laugh, shaking his head as he readies the basketball in his hands. “If you say so.”

He makes every shot, because of course he does, and wins you one large Spider-Man plush. He also succeeds in putting a large smile on your face, all your anxieties effectively slipping away so you can fully enjoy yourself as you clutch the big soft toy to your body. Jokes and laughter peel out of you as Peter takes you to play more games, and it feels so easy being with Peter in a sea of people.

“Pete,” you say, watching him after leaving the game area. “It’s not fair how good at everything you are.”

“Whaddaya mean? I’m not good at everything.”

“You’re stupidly smart, and even good at basketball, apparently,” you explain, referencing the game that had won him the giant plush you’ve been dragging along. “And you make it all look so easy.” You don’t mention that he’s cute and possibly the kindest person you’ve ever met, because that would be veering dangerously into flirty territory, and you were not about to flirt with your best friend.

Peter studies your face as he leans over the boardwalk railing, propped up by his elbows. You mirror his pose, except the plush is squished between you and the railing, your cheek resting comfortably atop plush Spider-Man’s big adorable head. Something sad passes over Peter’s expression before he finally looks away, towards the beach, where the clouds rolling in from the horizon are darker. “Nah, ‘m not good at everything,” he repeats, quieter this time. 

You frown at the minute shift in mood. But just as you open your mouth to say something, he inhales a big breath and faces you again, smile back on his face. “Y’know, I wasn’t even popular in high school. Middle school too, matter of fact.”

You raised your head, disbelieving. “Shut up. Don’t lie to me, Peter.”

He laughs. “I swear! Girls barely knew I existed. I was bullied a lot.” He shrugged, standing straighter as he recalled his childhood. “Typical jock/nerd dynamic.”

You take in Peter’s tall, lean form. Standing at practically six-feet-tall with warm brown eyes, you can hardly imagine Peter going unnoticed by girls. All this time, you’ve been picturing a Peter from high school surrounded by giggling girls twirling their hair, fist-bumping boys in the halls. Not getting shoved into lockers or getting his head shoved into toilets.

Wait.

“Don’t tell me they gave you swirlies.”

“Once, actually, yeah.”

“Oh, Peter,” you gasp, hand coming up to cover your mouth. “Is that why your hair looks like that?”

Peter grins and lightly bumps your shoulder with his. “Hah, hah, very funny. I take it you were a bully, then? Insulting me like that?”

You continue like that, teasing and laughing and discussing the upcoming semester. The sunlight dwindles, sky becoming overcast as more clouds slowly roll in, becoming flat and gray. The temperature begins to cool as you make your way towards the rides, but you'd hardly notice with the warmth that surrounds you in Peter's presence.

The ferris wheel completely steals your attention from your conversation as you pass by it, head inclining to stare wistfully up at it. The green spindles and bright red lights outlining it illuminate splendidly against the backdrop of graying skies. You sigh, and then promptly come to a halt when you bump into Peter's chest.

“Oh! That's- I'm sorry,” you stammer, giggle, and then mentally chastise yourself for giggling as your cheeks fill with warmth.

“No, no, that's alright.” Peter brushes off your apology. “Ferris wheel's more interesting than me, I get it.” His playful tone eases away the sudden nervousness.

“I'm sorry,” you laugh, “I just- well, I've never been on a ferris wheel.” You look back at it, longing. “Don't laugh, but... I always thought it'd be romantic.”

Maybe it's all the books you've read that made you a little bit hopeless in that regard, but you've always fantasized about this exact kind of date. A couple on the ferris wheel, in their own little world overlooking the rest of the park or the ocean or the city -- wherever ferris wheels tend to be, you weren't picky about the view.

Suddenly, Peter has your hand in his. You’re too caught up in the feelings of his fingers against your own before you realize he’s leading you towards the Wonder Wheel. 

“Peter..?”

“C’mon, before they kick everyone out of the park.”

You’re not sure what he means until you realize there’s no one in line. So caught up were you in your little bubble that you hadn’t noticed people had started to leave, the crowd from earlier dwindling to a few stubborn stragglers. 

Peter pays for the ride and marches you both up to the sole employee letting the last of the ride-goers off. The man looks up at you both, boredly chewing gum, then eyes the sky.

“Looks like it’s gonna rain,” he says. 

“C’man, man. We paid.” Peter replies, and his tone takes on the familiar puppy-dog pleading that usually gets him his way. “Jus’ one ride around? Please?”

You bite your lip as you watch this guy’s resolve start to waver. 

The man sighs. “That’s usually how it works, kid.” His shoulders are already starting to drop, though, but he’s still got some fight left in him, apparently, because he shocks you by saying, “I’m sure there’s other spots you can make out with your girlfriend.”

“Oh, that’s not-” you stammer, “-we’re not-”

“Please?” Peter cuts you off, more persistent, a little pathetic, and incredibly fucking cute. “They haven’t even announced that the rides are closing down. We can still go on.”

You feel your whole face heat up over the fact that he didn’t correct either the girlfriend thing or the making out thing.

The guy hesitates, as if hoping for a perfectly timed announcement at that moment. When nothing but the cawing of seagulls fills the silence, he finally gives in and lets you on the ride.

Peter helps you into one of the stationary carts, not wanting to risk swinging back and forth with the wind starting to pick up. You settle in with Little Spidey--the nickname you decided on for your new plush--while Peter takes the seat on the other side.

The incline to the top isn’t as slow as you thought it’d be, but it’s still a soothing pace. You watch, mesmerized, through the bars of the Ferris Wheel as it brings you up and up, higher over the park. When you go to swivel your head to see the other side, you catch Peter looking at you from his seat across, head cocked to the side, gentle smile gracing his face. 

His attention immediately makes butterflies lurch in your stomach. It dawns on you that you are trapped in a metal box with Peter, and the space feels snug and intimate but it makes you feel too big. You're all too aware of the way your thighs spread out beneath you, and all you want to do is shrink in on yourself.

Peter, perceptive, notices the nervousness creeping back in. “Hey, you alright? Not afraid of heights, are you?”

You glance up into his eyes, can see the dark brush of his eyelashes and count the stray freckle and moles that dot his face, and it immediately feels overwhelming. “No, 'm fine,” you mumble, dropping your gaze.

You haven't felt this nervous around Peter since you first met nearly a year ago, his good looks and easy charm making his attention all too much to bear. It was very easy for feelings to develop when he kept talking to you, seeking you out for study sessions and pizza dates, consistently lifting you up whenever you felt down. Sure, he’d disappear sometimes or show up late others, but he still showed up. It’s what matters most to you.

“I don’t embarrass you, do I?” 

Despite the lighthearted tone, your eyes widen at the change in topic and you look back at him. “What? No, why would you say that?”

He’s grinning at you, but his hand comes up to his chest in mock pain. “Just that you were so quick to deny being my girlfriend down there. It kinda hurt.”

You try to ignore the way your heart skips a beat. “N-no, of course not! I just didn’t want you to feel embarrassed.”

The smile falls from his face, replaced by a confused knit of his brow. “Why would I be embarrassed?”

You snort. “Are you serious? Look at me.”

“I am lookin’ at you.” He’s frowning, utterly earnest.

“I’m jus’ not, like… girlfriend material, y’know? It’s happened before. Usually whatever guy I’m hangin’ out with gets all annoyed that anyone would even suggest such a thing.” You chuckle, trying to keep the mood light, trying to keep the pain out of your voice. It doesn’t hurt much now, anyway; Time doesn’t heal all wounds, but it can dull it some.

Something furious flashes across Peter’s face, darkening his eyes. You don’t think you’ve ever seen this expression on him, the clench of his jaw, the quiet seething in the knit of his brow. He’s angry.

You’re about to apologize for upsetting him when he beats you to it. “I’m sorry anyone ever made you feel that way. Sounds like they were lousy, didn’t appreciate what an amazing person you are. Smart and funny and beautiful.”

The ferris wheel slows to a stop, leaving you cradled at the top of the Wonder Wheel, finding it difficult to catch your breath under the weight of Peter’s earnest gaze. Sometimes, like right now, his attention makes you ache because of how badly you always want it, convincing yourself that you don’t deserve it, or that it’s some kind of joke, too good to be true. Having Peter as just a friend is already special, but that craving for something more always kicks in and it feels like drowning.

“Pete,” you breathe, “that’s not fair.”

“What’re you talking about?”

“You can’t- you can’t say stuff like that to me. It’s too nice.”

“But it’s true.”

When did he get so close? He’s leaning forward, forearms propped on his thighs, and you somehow find yourself pulled in by the gravity of his sincerity. You lose yourself in his eyes, chocolate quartz and tender. The scent of the sunscreen you made him wear fills the space between you, all warmed out by the day, baked into his skin. His lips are slightly parted, practically inviting…

Sudden bright light fills the sky, making the two of you rip away from each other. You look out and see the storm coming in heavy from out on the beach, rain pelting into the ocean and onto the now-empty shores. The clap of thunder that follows rattles you, making the ferris wheel shutter.

When you look back at Peter with wide-eyed terror, he’s attempting to peer down through the cage of the gondola. “Okay, he’s- he’s gonna get us down.” He looks back at you, attempts to soothe with a smile as the gondola jerks forward towards its unhurried descent. 

“Here.” Peter leans forward to grab Little Spidey and places him in your arms. “Jus’ hold on to that and we’ll be off this thing before y’know it.” He goes back to looking through the grate, fingers of one hand curled around the metal frame.

You automatically clutch the plush to your chest but then immediately feel overcome with flustered embarrassment. “Wh- I’m not a little girl, Peter!”

“What?” He glances away from the storm to look at you. “No, no I know,” he scrambles. “It’s just, you looked so scared-”

“I’m fine! I’m not scared-”

Lightning strikes down right then next to the ferris wheel, much too close for comfort, and you scream and flinch and bury your face against Little Spidey.

“Shit.” 

The ferris wheel shutters and moans to a stop. You peek up and notice the lights of the machine are no longer on. Peter looks agitated as he stares down through the grate. Your heart drops -- you’re stuck. You’re stuck in the middle of the storm, suspended however-many feet in the air -- at least a hundred -- and you don’t think you’ve ever been more scared in your life. 

Well, you think, looking out at the rest of the park, at the brutal skies, and then finally at Peter’s profile. At least the view’s not so bad.

Another clap of thunder rumbles overhead and around you, rain beating down mercilessly against your encasement. The ride creaks. Something’s wrong. You can tell by the change in Peter’s eyes. He may have been somewhat nervous this whole time, trying to put on a brave face for you, but there was a certain flash of fear that dashed across his eyes just now. You get the sense he’s realized something you haven’t yet. 

Maybe it’s that you were gonna die here. 

“No, we’re not dying here!”

Oh. You hadn’t realized you said that out loud. 

The unmistakable sound of groaning metal makes your heart stop. The gondola lurches slightly, slowly starts to tilt to the side. Did it come loose?

You shout Peter’s name through the downpour.

Despite the little space, Peter positions himself to stand at a bit of a crouch between the seats of the cart. One hand holds onto the metal slats while the other presses against the ceiling above for leverage, and he starts to kick at the door of the gondola. Once, twice, and it flings open at the third impact and out into the wind. 

Each kick had shaken the whole cabin. You sat extremely still, watching the whole thing, terrified that any sudden movement on your end would speed up this thing's fall.

Peter perches at the new opening, body leaning halfway out so he can grab onto a part of the still-standing rim, which doesn't seem to be falling apart the way everything on this side of the cart seems to be.

Peter holds out his free hand to you, palm up. He calls your name. “C'mon! Take my hand!”

You look at him like he's out of his damned mind. There's no way Peter, with his gangly long limbs, had any hope of lifting you out of here. Fear is the only thing that stops a manic laugh from warbling out of your throat.

“You gotta trust me, Sunshine.”

You stare at his outstretched hand, then glance up to his face, see the desperate plea in his eyes. It shatters your heart. He’s practically halfway out of the cart, can probably get down safely from here. But if you grabbed his hand, you’re worried you’d just weigh him down. Even if he could pull you to safety, wouldn’t it just slow him down? Turn the odds against your survival? You don’t want to be the reason Peter doesn’t make it. You couldn’t do that to sweet Aunt May. 

Yet you find yourself taking a trembling step forward. Because Peter told you to trust him, and before this you swear he was about to kiss you, and you decide then and there that you don’t want to die without getting a chance to kiss Peter.

Just as your hand raises to clasp Peter’s, the cabin lurches again, makes you wobble off balance. You gasp as Peter shouts, a wordless exclamation. When you find your footing again, realizing that you are not yet plummeting to certain death, you see Peter is somehow… he’s holding onto the cabin by the door frame with one hand, hanging onto the upright beam of the ferris wheel for leverage. Face contorted with strain. Arms trembling with effort. 

“Grab onto me!” He yells. “I can’t- can’t hold it for long, you gotta grab onto me!”

No longer wavering, you fling yourself at Peter and wrap your arms around his middle. That’s about as much bravery as you’re able to muster up with open eyes, so you squeeze them shut and quietly make sounds of teeth-clenched dread as rain and wind whip around you. 

Peter must let go of the cart because you feel his hands adjust you against him before one of them holds you closer and tighter to him, arm secure around your waist. It is the only thing that provides a small comfort as the windswept feeling of falling makes you bury your face in the crook of Peter’s neck.

The fall seems to last much longer than you think it should. Long enough to give way to something exhilarating in your belly, accompanying the fear and the cold. Long enough to feel a bit confused over the delayed impact, but you convince yourself it’s coming soon, maybe right this second, even, and nuzzle deeper into Peter’s hold for comfort.

Peter’s voice cuts through the wind and rain unexpectedly clear and close to your ear. “Hey, we’re okay. We’re fine now.”

You shiver, probably from the chill of the passing storm and not from the feeling of his warm breath against your skin, and slowly blink your eyes open to the dark hair plastered at the back of Peter’s neck. It takes another few seconds to realize that you are no longer falling, and that the ground is firmly planted on your feet. Or, vice versa. Either way, it’s such a dizzying relief of a revelation that you only slowly peel back away from Peter, afraid you might stumble without his support. 

You draw back far enough to scan Peter’s face. “How- what?” You glance around, find yourself tucked away between two small buildings. The rain has lightened to a soft, considerate drizzle. Looking back into Peter’s eyes, you finish asking, “Peter, how are we alive right now? How did we get down from the ferris wheel? Where is the ferris wheel?”

Peter chuckles, something nervous underlying the laughter. His arm falls away from your waist. You miss it immediately, but then his hands are on your cheeks, cradling your face. “There’s probably somethin’ I should tell you.”

His dulcet tone makes your cheeks tingle. An overwhelming emotion fills his gaze, and it worsens the dizzying feeling of being alive. Peter’s face is so close to yours, water droplets hanging from the wet strands of hair sticking to his brow, one clinging to the tip of his nose. His mouth is parted slightly, and he is breathtaking and dreamy and quite possibly the reason you’re still alive. 

“Wh-what’re you..?” 

Peter answers your breathless and incomplete question by closing the distance between your mouths. His lips slot against yours. His nose pokes your left cheek. It all feels so tender and almost impossible. 

“I’m sorry, ‘m sorry, I just-” he pulls back, but not very far, continues muttering against your mouth. “I thought I was gonna lose you, too-”

His lips trail upwards, brushes against your nose until they press against your forehead, and it somehow makes you feel more bashful than the kiss did. Something delicate and vulnerable bubbles up in the small space between you, makes the rain stop mattering.

“Pete,” you whisper, voice hoarse with emotion as you parrot his reassuring words from before. “It’s okay. We’re okay.”

You stand there for a few moments, letting time dissolve around you as you mutter reassurances to each other, hands not leaving the other, touches filled with solace and just a little bit of selfishness. As your mind accepts that you are no longer in danger, something starts to click into place as dots connect. The Spider-Plush is still firmly clenched in your right fist, now sodden from the weather but otherwise intact. 

An amused snort distracts Peter enough to pull away from you and give you a curious look. The space allows you to take a look at the plush, its familiar colors and big white eyes and webbed face. You raise it next to Peter’s head, shaking it slightly, for emphasis. “This- This is you.”

Peter’s head falls forward, keeping his eyes downcast and away from yours. It wasn’t a question, of course, but he nods anyway. 

“You… Spider-Manned us to safety.”

Peter’s shoulders move with silent laughter before he raises his head again, grinning. “See?” He says. “I told you I wasn’t gonna let you die.”

The precious moment of reveling in each other’s safety finally gives way to bubbly amusement. “I didn’t think you’d be able to carry me!”

“Aw, c’mon, where’s my vote of confidence?”

“Peter. Peter, look at you, you’re like a stringbean.” 

Peter throws his head back in laughter, revealing his lovely long neck and Adam’s apple that you stare at, deciding it’s a well-deserved treat for your eyes.

“How was I supposed to know that you’d be able to bear my weight so easy?” You continue. “I’m not exactly light, Pete. I’m not… I’m not damsel-sized, y’know?”

Peter stops laughing. He looks at you, something smoldering and slightly mischievous darkening his gaze. His head drops just a bit, making his stare almost threatening as he walks towards you, starts backing you into the wall on your side of the alley. “Was easy for me. I’ll carry you anywhere.”

Heat floods your cheeks, the low tone and Peter’s closeness making your heart flutter. 

“C’mere.” His right hand falls to your waist again, pulling you towards him, making you gasp. He plants one more searing kiss against your lips, this one more certain and molten, before effortlessly whisking you away. 

You spend the evening huddled up in your bedroom, eating soup and fighting back a cold and sharing a blanket with Peter Parker, who is so much more than a Boy and a Friend.

[auras-moonstone]

Hello! May I request an Ethan x reader, Hogwarts AU? The details don't really matter, but I just thought it'd be a cool idea. You're seriously my go-to acc when it comes to anything Ethan/Jack related, so I couldn't think of anyone better to request this to <3

hii, oh my god you don’t even know how excited i was while writing this! i’ve been wanting to write about hogwarts so i’m really glad you requested this! thank you so so much, i hope you enjoy it! 🤍

let the games begin — ethan landry

word count: 2,973

pairing: slytherin!ethan landry x hufflepuff!fem!reader

summary: when y/n, captain of the hufflepuff quidditch team, hears ethan, slytherin’s team captain, underestimating her team’s ability, they make a bet.

author’s note: i made the reader a hufflepuff bc that’s my house, not gonna lie.

WHEN Y/N RECEIVED THE LETTER FROM HER HEAD OF HOUSE informing she had been chosen to be Hufflepuff’s team Quidditch captain, she was absolutely appalled. Girls, sadly and unfairly, weren’t often given such positions, so she hadn’t expected it at all, no matter how skilled of a seeker she was.

Her stomach turned upside down as she skimmed through the words inked on the parchment over and over again. Of course she was happy to have been selected, but she couldn’t help but feel scared. It was twice the weight a normal captain had on their shoulders—not only she had to be a great captain because of the thrill of winning the Quidditch Cup, but she also had to prove women could do as well as men. If she failed, she knew that the chauvinistic assholes around the school would take the opportunity to state once more that women weren’t competent enough to hold such title.

Y/N was not going to let that happen, so she spent the remaining days of summer scheming tactics and a training routine. When she got back to Hogwarts, she felt more confident than ever, feeling she hoped she could transfer to her teammates.

The Hufflepuffs were beyond happy and excited to have her as their captain, especially her best friend Cedric, who had always told her she would be a fearless leader. The rest of the houses, though, the majority of the people in it didn’t have an ounce of faith on her and threw funny glances her way.

The day professor Hooch posted the upcoming matches, the funny glances turned into ones of pity. The first game of the season would be Hufflepuff vs. Slytherin, and the thoughts were loud around the castle—poor Y/N, Slytherin will sweep the air with her on her very first game as a captain; hope the Slytherins have some mercy on her. It was clear that pretty much everyone was confident on the outcome of the game. Especially the Slytherins.

“That game will be as easy as taking a candy from a baby.” the Slytherin captain’s voice ricocheted on the hallway Y/N was passing by. “We got the first match of the season on our bag, boys.”

Y/N clenched her jaw and marched towards them. “Don’t count your chickens before they hatch, Landry.”

The tall, curly-haired boy tuned around with a smirk on his handsome face and looked down at her. “Oh, come on, Y/L/N. You don’t stand a chance, and everyone knows that.”

The corner of Y/N’s lips lifted up. “You know, everyone’s been throwing shit at me and my team without giving me the benefit of the doubt, and yeah it sucks a bit, but you know what I realized?”

“Nope, enlighten me” he said amused.

“Victory is going to taste much sweeter. And when you have to shake my hand after I kicked your ass, I hope you remember how you spoke too soon. And if you don’t, I’ll be there to remind you.”

A wave of respect passed through Ethan’s body. The way Y/N stood up for herself and her team made him feel some kind of way, though he very much liked to push her buttons so he continued with a playful smirk. “You seem pretty confident, Y/L/N. Wanna make a bet?”

“I’m listening” she held his glance.

“If I win, you’ll do my Potions homework for the rest of the season, if you win-”

“When” she corrected confidently. “And what can you offer me? Unlike you, I have a brain that is pretty capable of doing homework.”

He tried not to smile “If you win, I’ll buy you all the books you want each time we go to Hogsmade during this season.”

The Hufflepuff’s eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. “Deal! Oh my god, I have a list of books I want and it’s very large, Landry”

“It’s very large, Landry. Can’t say I haven’t been told that before” he said with a mischievous smile and laughed at her disgusted expression.

“Poor soul, I’m afraid to inform you have been lied to.”

“Nah, you want proof? I’m very happy to show you”

“You’re repulsing” she scrunched her nose.

Ethan chuckled, she was adorable. “Do we have a deal, little badger?”

Y/N stretched out her hand “Deal.”

Y/N’S CONFIDENT SMILE LINGERED ON ETHAN’S MIND AND THERE WAS NOTHING THE BOY COULD DO TO ERASE THAT IMAGE. The girl was simply too perfect—gorgeous, smart, funny, brave, kind, confident and so adorable that everytime Ethan saw her on the hallways he wanted to wrap his arms around her tiny frame and squish her to death. He also loved how she didn’t take shit from anyone. Y/N was the exact personification of a badger—cute and friendly-looking, but if you poked her, the claws came out and she would not hesitate to scratch you with them.

Ethan didn’t know how he hadn’t noticed her before, but now that he did he couldn’t get her off his mind. Every glance and smirk Y/N sent his way felt like some sort of prize for him, and now that the day of the match had arrived, the feeling of uneasiness took over his chest. Would he still have her attention once their little bet was over? He guessed no, and so he made it his goal to ensure Y/N kept looking at him after it.

When the teams entered the pitch, the stands roared in excitement. While most of the people didn’t have faith on Y/N, they still rooted for Hufflepuff, because their hatred towards the house of serpents was stronger than the lack of faith on the female leader.

“Time to lose, are you ready for it?” Ethan smirked, holding out his hand for Y/N to take it.

Madame Hootch blew the whistle, and Y/N smirked back at the boy in front of her. “Let the games begin, Landry.”

When Y/N was in the air, the concept of time disappeared. She didn’t know if the game lasted 20 seconds or 20 years—what she did know, was that it ended as soon as the palm of her hand surrounded the golden snitch. Hufflepuff had beaten the Slytherin by 250 points, it’s been years since the last time the house of badgers won by so many points.

“Congratulations, Y/L/N. You were amazing” Ethan said with a, surprisingly for Y/N, genuine smile. As captains, they were the ones in charge of putting everything back in the supply closet, so they were now all alone.

“Thank you, Landry” she replied contently. She was beaming, and Ethan thought she couldn’t have looked more beautiful, even when covered in sweat and with her hair all messy from the wind. “You played amazing, too. Though, don’t think that your compliments are saving you from spending your money on me.”

“Wouldn’t dream on it” Ethan laughed. He couldn’t wait to spend his time with her, to get to know her better.

“Good. Now, let’s go back to the castle. I think you have Potions homework to do… on your own” she smirked playfully.

“You’re kinda mean for a Hufflepuff” he played back.

“Well, if we are stereotyping, you’re kinda nice for a Slytherin” Y/N bumped his forearm with her shoulder. The guy was super tall—and probably the most attractive human she had ever met.

“Kinda?!” he raised his voice, acting offended.

“Well, no matter how nice you are now, I didn’t forget the little scene at the hallway. You underestimated me and my team. The fact that I’m a girl doesn’t make me less capable, you know?”

Ethan frowned. “Wait, wait, wait” he stopped her by the shoulders, and she had to tilt her head up to look him in the face. “Yes, I thought your team would suck, but not because you’re a girl. Hufflepuff has come out in last place for years, that’s the only reason I said it. It has absolutely nothing to do with you.”

Y/N’s eyes softened a bit and nodded slowly “Okay”

“I’m serious. In fact, last year you were the only good player the team had. If Hufflepuff had points, it was all because of you. Because you never failed to catch that snitch. If you had had great players supporting you, you would’ve won that cup.”

“You think so?” Y/N asked, feeling the heat creep up from her neck right to her face. His face was so close, his eyes so bright and voice so soft and sincere that her heart went crazy.

“I know so, Y/N” he squeezed her waist. When did his hands get there and why did it feel so good? And why did her name sounded so much better coming from his lips?

“Thank you, Ethan”

Her smile was so shiny that could light up the whole castle “Just telling the truth. And hey, don’t tell this to my team but I’m not completely sad you won that game. I heard what they have been saying on the hallways, about you not good enough for the position just for being a girl. I’m glad you proved them wrong.”

Was it normal for her heart to be beating this fast? “Well, thank you for saying that. But the talking won’t stop, they are going to find another excuse to keep saying the same thing.”

“Then you’ll have to keep winning. Not that it will be a problem, because your team is very good this year”

“You shouldn’t say those things about the rival team, Ethan. I think you have a soft spot for me” she teased him.

“I have known that since that day at the hallway, Y/N. You aren’t saying anything I didn’t already know” he answered truthfully, catching her off guard. “Since that day, I knew you were special. And I’d like to know you better, if you let me.”

Y/N nodded with enthusiasm “Yes, I’d really really like that, Ethan”

“Would you like to go to Hogsmade with me? I know we kinda were already, because of the bet. But I mean, be with me the whole day” he said nervously.

“I would love to, Eth”

“Great, it’s a date” he said, and the blood rushed into her cheeks. “Awe, are you blushing for me? How cute”

“Shut up, asshole.” she pushed him away playfully.

“Let’s go, little badger” he felt a little bold, so he grabbed her hand and intertwined their fingers. Thankfully, she didn’t push him away, instead she squeezed his hand.

TURNS OUT, Y/N WAS RIGHT. Their victory wasn’t enough, people still weren’t aware of her talent as a captain and still found excuses to justify their win. Even after the following matches the Hufflepuff team won. People said it was beginners luck, that the teams took pity on her, or Ethan’s personal favourite: the Slytherin captain was so smitten with her that he let her win that first match and was helping her with tactics.

“That’s such bullshit! I mean, I am smitten with you but I would never let you win. The win is all on you” Ethan rambled as they made their way towards Hogsmade.

“I know, Eth. You don’t have to assure me, I know” Y/N laughed. “I have to say, it’s really cute that you are so mad about what they have been saying about me.”

“How are you not mad? It doesn’t make any sense. If you were a men, they would be kissing the floor you walked on”

“I know that too. But I have reached the point in where I’m just so sick of them coming at me that I just ignore it. If I react, they’ll say I’m overreacting and it’s just going to get worse”

“Today I almost punched a Gryffindor who was talking shit about you” he admitted.

“Please don’t punch anyone for me. It’s not worth it”

“Agree to disagree. If anyone is worthy, it’s you”

“You’re so sweet” she kissed his knuckles. “But really, don’t do it. Just imagine you punching him, that’s what I do”

“Fine” he scoffed. “Now, let’s get your books and see how much it hurts my wallet”

Y/N laughed. “You don’t have to buy me books, Eth. I only wanted to prove I’m good at being captain, and I did”

“Nope, I am buying you all the books you want.” Ethan said, opening the door of the book store. “Don’t hold back.”

Y/N didn’t hold back. Ethan exited the little bookshop with a bag full of romance books and a happy Y/N on his arm.

“Bet you regret that bet now” Y/N laughed.

“If there is something in my life I don’t regret is making that bet, Y/N” Ethan said in a serious tone. “Besides, I would’ve bought every single book in that shop if it meant you would keep smiling at me like that.”

Y/N couldn’t take it anymore, if she didn’t kiss Ethan she might die. So she carefully set one hand on the back of his neck while the other cupped his jaw and she stood on her tip-toes.

“I want to kiss you, Eth. Really really bad, is that okay?” she whispered.

Okay? It was more than okay. And instead of answering with words, he lowered his head and their freezing lips met. Suddenly the warm in their hearts nullified the icy feeling that the December snow had been putting on them. The air was extremely cold, but nothing seemed to matter other than the kiss they had been wanting since their small confrontation in the hallway at the beginning of the year.

THE REST OF THE SEASON WENT THE SAME WAY. Hufflepuff won almost every match, yet people still had doubts when it came to the captain—no matter how much she hustled and put in the work, they wouldn’t give her any credit and still questioned if she deserved the title. No matter how fast she ran, she couldn’t get there, she couldn’t earn their respect.

True to his word, Ethan never got physical with anyone who talked shit about his girl (which didn’t mean he wouldn’t call them out) and would instead reassure her countless time how capable and amazing she was. Which lifted her spirits more than he realized.

The final match was coming and Y/N could barely eat from nervousness—it would be Hufflepuff vs. Gryffindor and she knew it was going to be tough. Oliver Wood was a force to be reckoned with and so was his team.

The pressure was drowning her, it’s been years since she had seen the Hufflepuff house so hopeful, and if the victory slipped from her fingers it was really going to crush her. At least she had Ethan now, if she didn’t, she was pretty sure she would’ve already drowned—he was her life jacket. Cheesy, but true.

“Are you going to wear something yellow for me?” she asked in a teasing tone, straddling his lap. They were on the locker room, sitting on a bench as the girl waited for her team to arrive. Ethan was there for emotional support, because in only a few hours they would know who the cup will belong to this year.

“I’m always wearing something yellow when you play. Discreetly, of course. But not today, today everyone’s going to see me fully rooting for my girl” he said pressing kisses on her neck.

“Theres no way you’re going to do that in the middle of the Slytherin bleachers” Y/N laughed shaking her head. They had been keeping their relationship low-key, but now that the season was almost over they decided they didn’t want to hide it anymore.

“You wanna bet?” he smirked, making her laugh harder.

“Okay. If you win, I’ll let you use the Prefects bathroom” she said.

“Fuck, yes” he said excited. He had been begging her to let him use it, but like the good girl she was, she refused. She took the Prefect position as seriously as her captain position. “It’s almost time. Kick asses, babe”

“You bet I will”

“No matter what the outcome is, I want you to know I’m very proud of you. For being an amazing captain and for putting up with the shade everyone’s been throwing at you” Ethan said cupping her cheeks.

Y/N’s eyes filled with tears. “You don’t know how much it means to me, Eth. Thank you”

“You got this, babe. See you in a couple of hours, I’ll shower you with kisses. Everywhere” his eyes turned a little darker when he said the last word.

“Give me a preview?” she looked at him in the eyes.

“God, you can’t give me bed eyes when I’m supposed to leave” he groaned.

Y/N giggled and kissed his cheek “I love teasing you”

THE BATTLE FOR THE WIN HAD BEEN LONG, BUT THE HUFFLEPUFFS STOOD CHAMPIONS THAT AFTERNOON. They gave their blood, sweat and tears for that, and their karma came in form of a gold shiny cup.

Y/N’s karma was also her boyfriend, who sprinted towards her in a yellow shirt with the number 13 and her last name on the back. Ethan spun her in his arms as they both laughed and cried.

“You did it, babe. Holy shit” he said happily.

“And you wore a Hufflepuff shirt. My shirt! Oh my god” she laughed. “I love you”

Ethan stood still for a moment, but then he smiled widely. “I love you too. So much”

“Then kiss me for Merlin’s sake”

“I love you” he repeated when they pulled away. “Go celebrate with your team, Cap. Meet me at midnight at the bathroom?”

“I love you too. And yes, meet you there” she replied breathlessly.

“Underwear is optional, by the way” he whispered in her ear, making a rush of electricity run through her body.

“If it’s not necessary, then why wear it, right?” she smirked.

He kissed her once more. “Can’t wait”

[shadowdaddies]

Hi

Hope everything is good

Could I request smut with flynn

I NEVER see any fics of him

Thanks so much

Hi, hope you're doing well! Agreed there should be more Flynn content. I'm hoping we get more of him in HOFAS because he's a good character

More

Tristan Flynn x f!Reader

Warnings: smut below the cut, drinking, reference to drugs, oral f!receiving, p in v sex, minors dni

You clutched Bryce’s hand as she jostled her way through the crowd, the air thick with mirthroot and beer. You waded your way past the swarms of people until you reached the upstairs game room. Finally finding enough space to breathe, you spotted the bar and headed over with Bryce. 

Leaning against the counter, you squeezed the lime into your drink, stirring while you scanned the space. Your heart stopped, mouth going dry as your gaze locked with the most striking pair of green eyes you had ever seen. Unable to stop the blush that crept over your cheeks every time you saw Tristan Flynn, you opted for taking a sip of your cool drink. 

Bryce gave you a knowing smirk, taking your hand in hers once more as she draped it over her shoulder, swaying her curvy hips as she pulled you over to where Flynn sat along with Ruhn and Declan. Ruhn’s eyes widened, the prince shooting up from his seat as he greeted you and Bryce, wrapping each of you in a hug. You moved to take the open seat next to Declan, but Bryce slid in before you could, a knowing smile painting her lips as she winked at you.

The blush on your cheeks deepened as you realized the only place to sit among your friends was a tiny spot on the couch next to Flynn. “Come on sweetheart, I don’t bite,” the gorgeous male purred with a wink. 

You swallowed thickly as you took your spot next to him on the couch, warmth emanating from his toned arm that brushed yours. Green eyes pierced the side of your face, tracking the movement of your throat as you took another sip of your drink. “I’m glad you came tonight,” Flynn murmured in your ear, his fingertips brushing your thigh.

Your eyes flicked to his, locking on his gaze as a lock of wavy brown hair fell in his face, and you subconsciously brushed it away. His breath caught, and you nervously cleared your throat, muscles stiffening under the pressure of his gaze. “I’m surprised some pretty female hasn’t pulled you away by now,” you retorted, hoping to deflect his attention from noticing how nervous you were. 

Instead, Flynn brushed a bit of hair back from your shoulder, leaning in so that his warm breath brushed the skin of your neck. “I’ve been waiting for you to show. Pull me away at any time, sweetheart.” 

Heart pounding in your chest, you turned to Flynn, his full lips parted slightly as his tongue flicked out, emerald eyes searing into you. You leaned into him without thought, savoring the warmth as his hand tentatively moved along your thigh, pulling you closer. Your noses were touching when Bryce shouted, “get a room!” causing you to jump back and glare at her. 

Everyone was watching with amusement, and you turned back to see that Flynn’s eyes had never left you. In a moment of bravery, you leaned in, savoring his scent as you whispered, “how about we get a room?”

You’d barely pulled away to gauge his reaction when the male swept you into his arms, carrying you bridal style up the stairs to his room as your friends wolf-whistled behind you. Blushing furiously, you held onto Flynn as he kicked the door shut behind you, locking the door for privacy. 

Suddenly flying through the air, you landed on the plush mattress as Flynn ripped his shirt off. Your eyes glazed over as you practically drooled at the sight of his tanned, toned chest. Gods, he was unfairly beautiful, and he knew it. With a wicked grin, Flynn leaned down over your body, hands gripping your hips with a force as he dragged you to the edge of the bed. 

Gasping, your legs instinctively tightened around his waist. He pried them apart with ease, settling down on his knees in front of you, your legs spread under his grip as your dress rode up, your black lace underwear the only barrier between him and your heat. 

Flynn blew out a breath, the cold air hitting your pussy and making you arch into him. You babbled incoherent pleas, desperate for more as he licked and sucked his way up your thighs. Teeth grazing over the fabric covering your clit, Flynn sucked softly before tugging your panties down with his teeth.

Breathless, you managed to lift your head to see him smirking at you, tongue flicking out as he licked a stripe up the soiled fabric of your underwear before stuffing them in his back pocket. Hands held your knees apart in a vice grip, rendering your attempts at moving useless as Flynn inhaled the scent of your arousal, a pleased look on his face before he dove in. 

He licked your clit at an impossible speed, eliciting sounds you didn’t know you could make as you writhed under him. Moving to pin both of your legs with one arm, Flynn brought a finger to swipe the slick of your pussy, his tongue sucking on your clit harshly. You let out a scream as his finger dipped inside you, curling against your wall at a rapid pace. The coil inside of you was tightening quickly, vision fading in and out as he added a second finger, the pressure too much to handle as your eyes rolled back. Shaky breaths left your lips before you screamed Flynn’s name, feeling his smirk against your clit as he continued to pump his fingers into you. 

Trashing against the sheets as he worked you into overstimulation, you begged Flynn, “please fuck me, I need you inside of me now.” As if he didn’t hear you, Flynn continued his assault on your pussy, your hands finding his chestnut curls as you held on to him, your only tether to this world as you shook against the bed. 

You reached your second high, feeling a rush of new arousal flooding Flynn’s face as you came down, muscles going lax as he climbed over you. A cocky smirk graced his lips as you brought a hand to his cheek, drawing him closer. His lips melded with yours, the soft warmth and taste of you on his tongue as he ground against you. 

“Please,” you begged for a countless time tonight, bringing your hand to palm his hard cock through his jeans. Flynn threw his head back, instinctively thrusting into your hand as you worked him, unbuttoning his pants as he shucked the restrictive fabric off, leaving the both of you completely bare. 

Licking your palm, you brought it down to lightly grip his cock, stroking his length as you wrapped your legs around his waist. He gasped into your mouth, a smirk now on your lips as you threaded your free hand through his hair, pulling him as close as you were able. “Please, fuck me,” you begged, thumb brushing over his tip as you lined his cock at your entrance.

Flynn’s head dropped into your neck, breathing heavy as he turned putty in your hands. He lifted one of your legs over his shoulder, holding you as he bit down on your neck and thrust deeply inside of you. Low moans escaped both of you as he settled, and you turned to press a kiss to his earlobe, tugging in silent request for more.

Flynn began thrusting at a relentless pace, hitting impossibly deep inside of you each time as you moaned and screamed under him. You were panting, vision blacking out when his cock finally twitched inside of you, and you rolled your hips against his as he neared his own orgasm. 

Licking his thumb, he brought the finger down to your clit, your back arching as you released a lewd moan at the feeling. Your third orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, rolling through you repeatedly as you were vaguely aware of Flynn cumming as well, his wet seed splattering on your stomach. 

You moved to get up and leave, but Flynn stopped you, grabbing a damp cloth, cleaning you up before he laid next to you. Pulling the covers over the both of you, he pressed a kiss to your cheek, mumbling sleepily into your ear. “Thank you for tonight, beautiful.” 

[feyhunter78]

Chapter One - A dance between mortality and desire, between that which you already know and the seductive lure of the unknown in the shadows of the morgue. Miguel, your new coworker, has this irresistible pull and seems to have set his sights on you. You try to stay professional, stay strong, but sooner or later you know you’re bound to fall. A fic in which vampire Miguel has found his lost love (you) once more, and he won’t let anyone, or anything stop him from reclaiming you.

Ch 2

There’s something strange about your coworker, Miguel. Maybe it’s how comfortable he seems to be with the late hours, or how he never seems to eat? At least not where you can see him eating, not that you’ve been watching him, waiting to see if he eats, and yes, the morgue is not really the place to eat, it’s entirely unsanitary, but in the break room? That’s fair game.

All he seems to do is work, drink those weird power shakes he’s so possessive over, and work out? He’s got to work out, there’s no other explanation for why he’s so built.

“Y/N, you need any help with that cadaver?” Miguel asks, a brilliant smile aimed your way, he’s dazzling, teeth straight as a military cemetery, white enough to blind you and his lips...they’re perfect, like unfairly perfect.

He’s handsome, and he knows it. A ladies man, the city mortician office’s Don Juan. You still can’t get over how you caught him and Cheryl from accounting, necking behind the building. Well, almost caught him, you heard the sounds they were making and all but sprinted to your car, face burning. And if your subconscious replaced Cheryl with you while you slept that night, then that was nobody’s business.

“No, no, I’m almost done, just wrapping up my notes.” You tell him, waving your voice recorder in the air, the standard one that the city gives every mortician. The one that annoying ass Dave always breaks, which means every project you work on with him takes twice as long because you have to wait for him to type up and submit his notes manually.

“We’ve got it, Manuel, no worries.” Dave says, the deliberate mispronunciation of Miguel’s name makes you cringe, but Miguel doesn’t even flinch, merely nods and heads back into the hall.

“You know his name is Miguel, right?” You know Dave knows, but you remind him anyways.

“Miguel, Manuel, same difference,” Dave says, brushing you off. “He thinks he’s so great just because all the normies fawn all over him.”

Normies aka everyone not tasked with cutting open dead bodies for a living.

“He’s nice, and he does good work,” You say briskly, finishing up your notes and zipping the body bag back up. “Put this one back in the freezer, yeah?”

“Why are you defending him, you got a crush or something?” Dave asks, leaning onto the slab, wriggling his eyebrows.

“No, I just don’t want to be called as a witness when you get hit with a discrimination lawsuit.” You drawl, clicking off your recorder and slipping it in your lab pocket.

Dave holds up his hands in surrender. “Whoa, hey, hey, I’m not being racist or anything, I’m just hazing the new guy.”

“Since when do we haze?” You snort, locking the freezer once Dave slides the body back in.

“Since we started hiring pretty boys.”

“Oh, so you think he’s pretty. You sure you don’t have a crush on him?”

Dave makes a fake gagging sound. “Excuse you, I am loyal to my wife.”

“That poor woman.”

“Hey fuck you, y/n,” Dave sputters.

You laugh and pat his shoulder. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding, I’m sure you and your wife are very happy together.”

“We are, thank you. It’s actually our anniversary next week, fifteen years.”

You’re taken aback. You knew Dave was married, but you didn’t think he’d be married for that long. “Wow, that’s amazing, seriously, congratulations.”

He smiles and pulls out his phone, showing you dozens upon dozens of smiling photos of him and his family. “Thank you, thank you, I’m a lucky man. Wait, don’t you have a boyfriend? How long have you two been together?”

Oh yeah, your boyfriend… “Oh, umm, like almost a year.”

“Hey, that’s not too bad,” Dave smiles.

You cringe internally. Almost a year of feeling like maybe your boyfriend doesn’t actually like you, compounded by your fear of being alone, driving you to do whatever it took to keep him. “Yeah, yeah, he’s great.”

A loud crash, the sound of metal crashing to the floor, and a low swear draws your attention.

You and Dave rush out into the hallway to see Miguel trying to lift a massive filing cabinet up from the floor. It’s dented on one side, almost the size of a…fist?

“Miguel, shit man, what happened?” Dave asks, hurrying over to his side and helping him lift the cabinet back to its rightful place against the wall.

Miguel’s eyebrows are furrowed, his hair disheveled, the sleeves of his lab coat rolled up exposing his forearms, his large hands flexing and unflexing. “I—I don’t know, I was walking down the hall, and it just fell, nearly broke my foot.”

“I’m glad you’re not hurt.” You tell him, searching the bottom of the cabinet for any loose parts or crooked corners that might’ve contributed to the crash.

He smiles at you, that Don Juan, panty melting smile, his warm brown eyes focused solely on you, as if you’re the only person in the world, the only one worth paying any attention to. “I’m just glad it was me and not you—or Dave, I wouldn’t want either of you getting hurt.”

“Aw, Manuel, you care about us,” Dave teases, going right back to his hazing.

“We’re a team,” Miguel says simply, rolling his shoulders back.

For a moment you wonder what his back muscles look like underneath his coat, his shirts always seem so tight. Do they ripple under the fabric, is it stretched taut, his back droolworthy and broad?

“A team that’s finally heading home, isn’t that right, y/n?” Dave’s arm landing across your shoulders brings you back to reality.

“Yeah, yeah, closing time,” you say, hoping you weren’t blatantly staring at Miguel’s back.

“You two go ahead, I have some things I need to finish up.” Miguel says, waving you both off as he heads back to his office.

You drive home in the dark, warm streetlights lining the street, soft music playing from the stereo. Miguel never left with everyone else, he always stayed late, and was always there early, like before the sun got up early. You did not envy his sleep schedule.

Digging through your purse, you fish out your keys and unlock your apartment door, flicking on the lights and sighing happily. There’s nothing like finally getting home after a long day and just getting to relax. Nudging off your shoes, you go to heat up some leftovers, letting the mindless reality TV shows keep you semi-entertained until you feel sleep tugging at your limbs.

You go through the motions, shower, skincare, pajamas, make sure all the doors are locked, turn down the air conditioning, and turn off the lights. Settling into your bed, you toss and turn, that fist shaped dent in the filing cabinet still bothering you. Did you need to call maintenance, or file a complaint with the city to let them know? It’s not like they’d give your department a new cabinet just because it was a little damaged, but still, at least you can say you tried.

Finally, you begin to drift off to sleep, breathing evening out, your heart rate slowing, the stress of the day melting away. Your dreams come quickly, cotton candy sweet and nonsensical, until a familiar figure appears.

Miguel’s hand caresses your cheek, his voice low, murmuring something in a language you don’t understand. He pulls you closer, and you can feel the press of his skin against yours, the toned muscles beneath your touch.

“Mi tesoro, tócame.” Miguel whispers, taking your hand in his and sliding it down, down, down his chest, stopping at his waistband, the fabric soft, his skin burning. Trsl: My treasure, touch me.

You take hold of the waistband, fingers slipping beneath it, as Miguel dips his head down trailing his nose up your neck, inhaling deeply before groaning, his free hand a vice grip on your hip.

“Touch me.” He breathes, his lips against your ear, his hand guiding your lower, more smooth flesh meeting your fingertips.

You want to, you want to explore Miguel, to find out if the rumors are true, but a shrill ringing draws your attention away.

“Te quiero y/n, no dejes que otros me roben tu atención.” Miguel pleads, his voice low and desperate, the hand on your hip pulling you flush against him. Trsl: I want you, y/n, don’t let others steal your attention away from me.

But the ringing won’t stop, and soon you’re jolting awake, alarm clock blaring, the sun streaming in through your blinds.

You throw off your covers, cringing at the sticky wetness between your legs. Really y/n? That’s what gets you going?

After eating breakfast and getting ready for the day, you check your phone, a few texts from your friends, some work emails, and a voicemail from Todd.

Hey babe, so I’m out at this bar right, and the drinks are fucking great, but I was talking to these girls about our issues, you know your whole not really enjoying sex thing? And they gave me some great advice, I want to try it out next time, so tomorrow night I’ll be at your place, get that couch ready, we’re going to tear it up.

He talked to other girls about your relationship? About your intimacy issues? What the fuck? You start to type out an angry text message but delete it halfway through. He’s trying at least, and you did ask him to try.

Maybe you should just hear him out on this, maybe those girls gave him actual advice like: “stop violently rubbing her labia thinking it’s her clit or listen when she tells you where her clit actually is, or maybe don’t be a dick and just give up once you’ve finished, your girlfriend deserves to get off too.”

You type out a neutral response and send it, before tossing your phone in your bag and setting out for work.

This fic was inspired by @sassyposssumm's kinktober request which was such an interesting prompt that I knew it needed to be expanded on! Also since this is a vampire fic there will be some instances of slight dubcon, I'll put warning in the beginning for those chapters with *slight* details in case anyone is uncomfy and wants to skip.

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

[ournachojesus]

Hello, this is a Death Note time loop AU. Light and L are stuck in a loop, it starts with Light’s death in the manga. They are the only ones that remember the loops. After the loops start instead of it ending after both of them are dead it only requires one of them to die to reset. What I talk about at some points will be pretty dark (murder, torture, abuse, etc). Not all in this post (does include some of that already) but this AU in general. Since it will involve a lot on how their mental health declines and along with their already… morally interesting self’s I explore how they behave. This is my warning and I’ll make a warning for each post for this.)

Light and L are stuck in a limbo in terms of the Kira case. If either dies they both reset. It's a spiral of them both sometimes playing the game they did but on a much higher level on some cycles or on sight beating the shit out of eachother. First time and second time is obviously different, third to tenth time they work together, after twenty times it breaks down into the spiral. Once they hit loop fifty is when they finally show more obvious signs of breaking. Light is unavoidably killed by Ryku and L is just doomed by the actions of those around them. The death bells ring for both of them but after Light dies and the first reset happens, they no longer have to wait for the other. No loneliness in being the one alive or the one dead. Locked even further into this relationship of only being able to understand eachother. They are smart but not emotionally so (manipulation isn't the same as emotional intimacy or empathy), the resets make things far worse.

Some resets further down the line L just straight up kidnaps Light (before Kira suspects are even chosen) and keeps him till the death bells ring. Like, this would be one of the more psychologically more dangerous situations during the cycles. Along with Light's 'puppeteering phase' where he keeps using the death note on many loops to make L do things against his will then killing him. Both involve torture of taking the free will and autonomy of the other. Something the really messes with both of them since they crave to be atop things. To be able to understand and move the situation in their favor. In both incidents it’s at a time when both individually have breaking points. Since the other is basically burned out to the extreme due to cycles they can’t even use logic to figure out the why when these things happen. Other people? Sure, easy as pie. Eachother? Nope. Can’t get a read. That similar thought process thing they have has no way of happening when it comes to trying and understanding their own feelings.

They are both immoral and shattered characters. They weren't broken in the begging, just already in many pieces and no one took the proper time with either of them to actually make either of them have some emotionally healthy habits. Born with the need for a little more help and no one helped them. Intelligent children are just assumed to be more mature than their age. Regular children are unfairly expected to understand norms and the world when they’re just basically learning from scratch from everything around them, how do you think adults treat intelligent kids then? Pushing them harder, supporting them less. Light and L I don’t expect to act like everyone else, what I’m saying is that they lack empathy for other people a lot of the time because they weren’t given enough attention when being taught that. Kindness is something they think their both don’t, L with his work and Light with being ‘God’. The perception of kindness is warped. Sorry about that rant, back to the AU.

So, ya. It’s a burning pit of corpses in terms of how it goes down. I can go into more detail on the two incidents but I’d do it on another post if people wanted that.

Misa finds out basically everytime, like more people notice depending on how careless both of the boys are in that loop but Misa just figures it out each time. Rem helps with some of those times but it’s majority of Misa doing the heavy lifting. Why? Misa isn’t dumb and she has great luck. Luck and her general genius she already had when it came to interacting with people. Misa is a lost soul who depends her happiness on other people, I don’t know how she got this unfortunate codependency need from (probably some trauma). Anyway, she wants to help them but…

Light is mad, eventually L is to. It’s a lot of frustration of Misa not being apart of their loops but constantly finding out and doing similar things (aka the solutions she proposes or what she does to help. Reminding her becomes a hard task for them both with how things in their minds start to fall apart and her small comforts are numb since at some point they only feel like the only real people). They are trapped in a way where if they keep coming across something that doesn’t help then it just drives them mad. This would probably lead to a couple loops of them doing something horrible (like criminally so) to Misa and either Rem gets their asses or Misa’s good luck manifesting in another way.

Light and L would at some point do something to eachother (this means during the incidents since I left that vague and whatever other things) or other people like Misa. To highly intelligent people with crumbling sanity, shit morals, and highly messed up feelings/relationships? They are going to do things worse than just killing people. Being killed isn’t the worse thing someone can do to you.

About the real people thing, when you are the only ones that can change and grow? It feels like everyone else is an actor or NPC. While things can change for those around them based on their actions, no one remembers and the only reasons these new things happen is because of how the boys act. This wouldn’t seem super bad since you may be thinking I see L and Light as to people that don’t care. No, they do. They just have a hard time with it. It hurts and they don’t understand why. Their families (or people I’d say are close enough with them to be called family) can’t help, will never change with the, and are growing further from them as they start to lose the memories they had before the loops since it’s getting harder to keep everything in check with how long it’s going on for. Their emotional state also affects their memories. At some points they just huddle together, no crying or speaking. Just cuddling.

The longest they live is on the day Light originally dies, but getting L to the point is hard. Cause after the day he originally dies they had a hard time making plans on his survival. In later loops it’s not as bad.

At the end of the loops, what the ending would be? An end to the loops… I have two/three ideas on that but I’d need to see. I want to better organize the events that would happen, their mental health declines, and some other things. Picking an ending now when I’m still trying to figure out how Light becomes not a sexist? I need my details figured out first!!

Hope whoever reads this long AU idea post enjoys it. Posting more is unsure for me.