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aledmorningstar · 10 months ago

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╰┈➤Misunderstood

Summary: How the gang finds out about Sukuna's girlfriend in a misunderstanding.

Relationship: Ryomen Sukuna/Reader

Word count: 3.0k

Note: I'm a liar, I know I said this would go up yesterday, in my defense we set very optimistic goals. Please comment and feel free to send me anything to my inbox

-‘๑’-: No curses au, uni au, sfw, humor, fluff, bad english

The house of the twins Yuji and Ryomen seemed more lively than normal, as every weekend they had planned a movie afternoon, the meetings began early after leaving school, buying snacks, preparing comfortable clothes and choosing some games of table.

Yuji's face wrinkled into a displeased grimace at seeing his twin dressing casually to go out for a walk down the street, while he and his friends were already prepared wearing their comical pajamas, it wasn't fair. This time it was Yuji's turn to choose the movie so as not to let his brother get away with it.

“What are you doing?”

Sukuna turned to look for a second indifferently at his brother while he finished fastening the buttons of his dark shirt. How could he take seriously his brother who maintained an irritated pout while wearing those ridiculous tiger-themed full-body pajamas?

"I'm going out, tell mom I'll be late"

Yuji's moan of annoyance echoed throughout the house, drawing the attention of Nobara and Megumi who were stealthily trying to spy on the conversation by hiding behind a wall.

"You said you would watch Human Worm 4 with us today!"

The one with the caramel eyes began to complain about the injustice that was occurring, a perfect time for his faithful friends to take action.

“We already prepared everything, you can't leave us stranded for an afternoon of movies!”

Nobara grumbled as she tried to fix the sleeves of her raccoon pajamas.

"We made a pact, you must suffer with us"

Megumi was supposed to be the most mature of the group, perhaps Sukuna had overestimated him because he never imagined seeing him share the same neuron as his friends while also wearing ridiculous beige dog pajamas.

“It's a shame brats, it'll have to be another day.”

The older twin's hands didn't stop moving trying to find the car keys; he had somehow managed to look appropriately with a hint of elegance, but without losing that menacing aura, a pair of black pants held up by an expensive belt that he had stolen from his father, a dark gray shirt with the first few buttons open showing his collarbones and the sleeves perfectly arranged at his elbows showing his tattooed arms.

"You look like a criminal"

“Who said I'm not?”

Itadori's intentions to plant some blame on his brother for abandoning them on a seemingly important night were noticeable for miles.

"At least have the decency to tell me where the hell you're going."

Sukuna took a while to respond, his eyes straying suspiciously and the trio could see a slight nervousness on his face. Wait, nerves? Sukuna? Those words were naturally contrary, it even seemed strange to put them together in one sentence. Here was definitely another shoe that was taking a while to drop.

"Mind your own business, don't be nosy"

Itadori instantly stood between his brother and the front door, blocking his way, he would get to the bottom of this matter at any cost.

"Are you planning something bad? Mom will be angry if you get into trouble again"

"Yes, yes, yes. I plan to do many bad and illegal things, in fact in this mood I plan to strangle the first person in front of me"

Itadori, Nobara, and Megumi looked at each other before leaving the hallway clear, letting Sukuna walk.

"Behave badly, take good care of yourself and if they discover you, deny everything"

“See you”

Once the so-called evil twin left the house, the hallway was completely silent for a few seconds.

“Don't you feel...? Curiosity?"

An excited Nobara looked at her friends with bright, gossip-hungry eyes.

"No not really"

Megumi's voice was ignored as Itadori pushed the Fushiguro boy's face away with his hand.

"I was hoping you'd ask, Nobara! In fact, my brother has been acting strange lately."

Itadori put on a thoughtful expression as he remembered his brother's unusual behavior in recent weeks.

"What do you mean he's been acting strange?"

At that moment Nobara had taken on a detective attitude, while the previously disinterested Megumi began to listen attentively to his friends.

“He's been coming home late, more than usual.”

“That doesn't seem strange for someone like him.”

An exalted Itadori raises his hands dramatically as he defends his argument.

“But when he is usually late it is always because he is causing problems in the streets and he is not at all careful with his arrival, now it is different!”

Sharing a room with Itadori, Sukuna didn't care how scandalous he could be when he showed up at home after curfew. He didn't pay attention to the fact that the noise of his shoes being thrown to any side of the room or that the sound of his swear words every time he tripped over something could disturb his brother's sleep.

Lately, however, the nights that Sukuna had spent late away from home had become more frequent, and Itadori couldn't help but notice even in the dead of night how messy his twin's clothes were every time he returned with silent footsteps and he also did not overlook the large number of marks that stood out on Sukuna's neck.

“Also, he has been trying hard in all his school subjects, he has turned in all his homework and sometimes he goes out to the library to study. Did you hear what I said? He goes to the library to study!”

“That's definitely not the Sukuna we know, something is happening to him.”

The three teenagers headed to the living room to sit down to discuss more calmly and solve that mystery.

“Do you think someone is bullying him?”

Itadori looked worried for a split second at Nobara's statement until Megumi gave him a strange, brief sarcastic smile.

“Are you serious right now? Do you think Sukuna, the most feared man on campus, could be bothered by someone? Jesus Christ even earned the nickname “The King of Curses”

They didn't need much time to agree with Megumi, it was impossible to imagine Sukuna being submissive to anyone.

“True, it would make more sense for him to be the one who bothered someone… It can't be possible”

“I told him clearly not to get into trouble, but he never listens to me!”

“Wait, Yuji, calm down. Don't you think that if that's the case, he's spending too much time on that person?”

Itadori seemed to think about it for a second and his face transformed into one of much more dramatic horror than before.

"So he really hates that person! Maybe he's planning a murder? Your brother isn't exactly known for being patient"

Nobara's words were the little push Itadori needed to panic.

"Sukuna definitely can't go to the correctional facility again!... Mom was very sad back then..."

Nobara and Megumi looked into each other's eyes, unable to abandon their friend in such a situation.

"Fine! Our mission today is to prevent your brother from becoming a criminal.”

"Are we allowed to use force? I still have to get revenge for the books I lent him."

The brown-haired girl, Kugisaki, was the first to stand up and was followed by Fushiguro. It seemed like a scene worthy of a movie, this was the motivational part because both friends extended their hands to the boy in tiger pajamas.

“Wait, wait, wait… What happened to your books?”

“I'll ask your brother when I see him.”

It had been approximately 30 minutes since the trio of friends had located and followed Sukuna, a difficult mission that had begun with the friends running after the older twin's car. The fatigue was overcome by surprise when seeing the target enter a flower shop.

“We're late, he's already planning the funeral!”

“Wait, give him the benefit of the doubt, maybe… Maybe he's going to visit a friend?”

“Impossible, my brother has no friends”

Nobara and Yuji's brief talk was interrupted when they saw Sukuna leaving that flower shop with a huge and pretty bouquet of yellow carnations.

"You see it? Maybe your brother is not as bad as he seems” Nobara's voice tried to be optimistic, and it also seemed strange to her that a man would buy flowers for no apparent reason.

“Now I'm quite confused” Itadori, for his part, narrowed his eyes, staring at Sukuna, trying to read his brother's mind.

Megumi spoke with a stiff voice drawing the attention of his friends.

"Don't be so surprised, in the language of flowers, carnations of that color mean contempt"

"Is he turning his assassination attempt into a performance? He's getting creative"

"Hey, he's leaving. Hurry up"

The gang quickly got into a taxi and like every chase scene, Itadori and Nobara yelled at the driver to follow the car in front of them, Megumi had to apologize to the driver at the end of the ride.

Sukuna drove his car until he reached the darkest and most dangerous neighborhood that anyone could imagine, clearly that place had an invisible sign indicating that it was better not to be there, there were few passers-by and the streets were cold with graffiti everywhere.

The older twin got out of his car after having entered the area a little, he walked as if that place was his territory, as if he felt at home, he adjusted the sleeves of his shirt, raising them to his elbows, with a bored look he observed the time on his watch and then leaned his back against the wall waiting patiently. Meanwhile, the trio had remained hidden behind a pile of boxes and seemingly useless objects, thinking about Ryomen's intentions.

"There isn't a soul in this place, what is he planning to do?"

Itadori's question was answered when Megumi held his jaw making him look to his right, his eyes widened as he saw a girl with a small frame, transmitting an aura of delicacy and fragility, she was the complete stereotype of a little princess wearing a pink dress and white sneakers, light makeup and a flower crown adorning her hair, she looked out of context walking with a smile and humming a song in that horrible alley.

"It can't be her... There's no way Sukuna..."

Nobara's words were cut off when the red-eyed man put out his cigarette and walked over to where the girl was with a proud smile on his face.

The fear that this small, fragile woman could be hurt by his violent brother made Itadori quickly get up from his hiding place and stand in front of his brother.

"Sukuna! Stop right there, don't do it!"

The sudden entrance of his nosy brother surprised Sukuna who maintained a displeased scowl at his twin's actions.

"What the fuck? Get out of the way brat, I'm on something important right now"

"Don't you dare take another step, don't do something you'll regret!"

Itadori's voice took a drastic change, sounding too threatening compared to his usual cheerful tone.

"What the hell are you talking about? Leave me alone, I don't have time for this."

Sukuna looked at the horrified girl who was just a few meters away from him, he pushed his brother away with one hand with the intention of walking towards where she was, however he was stopped and subdued on the ground by Megumi.

“Don't even try it, you disgusting scoundrel.”

“Leave me alone, you fucking bastards!”

While the three men argued and fought among themselves, Nobara also came out of her hiding place and walked towards the frightened woman, being careful not to exalt her even more, Kugisaki placed his hands on her shoulders trying to calm her down.

"Are you okay? “Did he do something to you?”

The girl's hands remained covering her mouth, completely surprised by the situation. She instantly left Nobara and ran quickly to where Sukuna was lying on the ground.

"What are you doing?! Get your hands off him!"

Megumi and Itadori's movements stopped, still holding Sukuna on the ground, they turned to look completely surprised at the owner of that little voice, their minds went blank as they watched her approach, she put her hands on Fushiguro's chest. making an attempt to push him away from the red-eyed twin.

"What are you doing to my boyfriend?! Leave him alone!"

Still bewildered, Itadori was the first to move away and placed a hand on his friend's shoulder for him to do the same, allowing Sukuna to stand up a little dazed.

"I don't know what 'Kuna did to you, but what you are doing is not right, it is not right to intimidate others, problems are solved by talking"

You stood in front of your boyfriend trying to be the one to defend him this time, you used to be a little shy when talking to strangers, but you weren't going to let your lover be the victim of such an unfair situation.

"Honey, calm down. They are—"

"No, love! They were very mean to you, no matter who they are!"

You knew that Sukuna had a special weakness for you that made him want to protect you from any danger, everyone told you that, obviously he would also want to take control of this situation in his hands. No, this time it was your turn to protect him, to be his knight in shining armor.

On the other hand, there were also the three idiots who had tried to play detective, watching the situation in astonishment.

"She... just called him love"

“Yes, she really did”

"I can't believe it"

Ryomen had tried to calm his girlfriend's little anger by taking her hands and caressing them, it worked for a few seconds until that trio spoke again.

Upon hearing the incredulous voices of those strangers, you let go of Sukuna's hands and walked a few steps close to those you thought were criminals.

"Listen, my parents are very important people, I will make sure you are punished appropriately"

Your acute and sweet angry voice was silenced by Sukuna's lips, one of his large hands finding a place on your waist while the other caressed your soft cheek.

"It's okay, princess"

"No, it's not okay-"

You tried to reply to his deep voice, you would be lying if you said it didn't make you shiver, his voice was only directed at you, only for you to hear, that made you calm down and also lowered the tone of your voice.

"Pretty, this is my stupid brother and his friends."

"...Impossible, it can't be…, they were subduing you"

"Don't worry, I'm sure they have a good explanation for doing all this, right?"

The affectionate look that Sukuna had given his supposed girlfriend had changed drastically when he turned to look at his friends, removed his touch from his beloved and walked towards the frightened trio, cracking the fingers of his fists.

"Last words?"

Approximately 10 minutes had passed after that disastrous encounter, Sukuna had considered himself generous that day so he decided to take his brother and his friends to the house where they should have stayed from the beginning, very kind, it had nothing to do with his girlfriend will look at those three idiots like abandoned puppies.

"How were we supposed to know you were visiting your girlfriend?"

"What kind of dates are you taking her on?"

"Yeah, you looked like you were about to commit a crime!"

Of course Itadori, Megumi and Nobara tested their patience throughout the car ride, complaining from the back seats and trying to alleviate the pain caused by the car owner's blows. Your curious little eyes turned to look at the trio with intrigue.

"Why do you say that?"

None of them knew how to answer your question, the answer was so obvious that they thought you were stupid or blind, of course none of them said that thought out loud, not when they felt Sukuna's psychopathic gaze in the rearview mirror. However, that didn't stop Yuji from continuing the conversation either.

"You were alone in that horrible and dangerous place, it is the perfect opportunity for a madman"

"Oh, that..."

Your calm reaction to that comment only confused them more, you were too sweet to be in those places and even worse to be there with Sukuna for no good reason.

"Her parents are renowned people and they do not agree with our relationship, that is why we must meet in the most discreet places possible"

"Sometimes dad hires people to watch me, so our meeting point for dates is that place."

The older twin's words left the dynamic trio thinking, especially Itadori and Nobara, Megumi didn't really care much, your complementation made them imagine a current version of Romeo and Juliet. The explanations of your strange relationship had clarified most of his doubts regarding the strange day.

"Wait, what about the flowers?"

Nobara's comment made all the attention focus on Ryomen who wrinkled his face in confusion until he remembered the detail that his friend was talking about at the same time that he stopped the car in front of his house.

"What flowers?"

"Oh right, I brought you something"

Sukuna got out of the car and went to the back taking something out of the trunk, a nice big bouquet of flowers appeared in front of you held by your handsome boyfriend.

"Oh, honey, you shouldn't have bothered."

"It's no bother when I can make you happy"

You received the beautiful flowers in your small hands, allowing yourself to smell them, such a fresh smell while you lovingly observed your loved one and he returned the same look, absorbed in that cloying atmosphere.

Of course that beautiful moment was not the most comfortable for everyone present, much less for Yuji Itadori imitating his twin with a shrill and annoying voice, since he had never seen his brother in that silly state.

"It's no bother when I can make you happy"

“I'm going to kick your ass”

Megumi couldn't stay silent for long either, because something kept echoing in her mind.

"But the meaning of flowers..."

"Excuse me?"

You looked at him with a smile so sweet and innocent that he hesitated for a second on his next words.

“Those flowers have a negative meaning…”

"It's funny you think my 'Kuna knows the meaning of flowers"

"We should have assumed that"

⋆·˚ ༘ *🔭 master list is here

#aledthinks #jjk x reader #jjk drabbles #jujustsu kaisen x reader #ryomen sukuna #drabble #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #jjk sukuna #sukuna #jjk fluff #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen #fluff #ryoumen sukuna

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mayullla · 1 year ago

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Title: An invitation to a chase

Character(s): Childe / Tartaglia (Genshin Impact)

Summary: Isekai au; It wasn't by choice that you dropped into this game. It was slow, but you slowly manage to make a living for yourself in Liyue. This was not a game anymore. Yet at the same time, you could not shake the feeling that this world had its faith already decided so you decided to become someone from the background not knowing you have gained the interest of a certain harbinger.

Warnings/tags: F!reader, yandere themes, mentions of other characters (liyue)

When you woke up you didn't know where you were...

Confused by the tall mountains and the beastly monsters that carried axes, wooden bats and shields, the small circle monsters that looked afraid when they saw you and ran away, you thought that they were familiar but at the same time in a daze unable to properly understand anything.

It was almost like a dream that you waited to wake up but... you never did.

It was with the help of travelers and adventurers passing by that you finally understood where you were. Their clothes hinted at where you were, and the names of places were another one. It was slow, but soon everything clicked together. You were sucked into a game called Genshin Impact, and you don't know how to get back.

Distraught you were after you realize that other than your clothes, you had nothing, nothing that reminded you of home or a way back. It was with the help of kind-hearted adventurers that you were able to get back up.

You knew that you were in Liyue and with the adventurers who found you here heading to Liyue Harbor. It was soon that you parted ways with them after they were sure that you knew your way around and had a place to stay.

You passed by Xinyan and Yunjin in their repetitive stages till you found Yanfei, who helped you get on your feet and make a living for yourself here.

It has been a few months since then, and oftentimes, you wondered if you should have even become friends with the characters that you once knew from behind a screen. If you were allowed to be their friend when you didn't belong here. No matter how kind Xinagling and Gouba were, they would always be a reminder to you that this was a game that you played once.

The NPCs that you helped as a traveler, even playable characters... it was somewhat nerving to see them... detailed, their struggles beside their quests that they gave to the traveler. You used to see only part of their problem before being forced away from them, unable to talk to them anymore besides a few repeating texts.

You wanted to help them, but part of you also thought that you shouldn't. That later on the traveler would come and help them which you thought would be far more appropriate than... you.

It wasn't like you didn't want to help, but in the end, you realized that they didn't ask for it and that you weren't the traveler anymore, and that you were another person altogether at this point. You didn't have the power to make everything okay again.

Instead, you just choose to be in the background, maybe a friend to Yanfei and a few others or just acquaintances for others if you ever bump into them yet faceless in the whole storyline you suspected to start soon.

So when you were out in the mountains gathering herbs, you didn't think you would see a certain person with ginger hair and blue eyes who came all the way from Snezhnaya.

He was the one who noticed you first as you froze like a deer in headlights unable to move when you meet his eyes. It wasn't like he was gonna kill you, you knew that even if he could he would not. But that never changed the fact that to you he was still dangerous.

Meeting him here all of a sudden without any notice made you unable to casually wave at the man who did so instead look away as you took off leaving him alone to wonder if he had done something wrong to a stranger. Did his wave offend you?

You thought you would never see that man again.

Again, you mentally thought it wasn't like you disliked him or anything, as much as you would fawn over or like this character in the past... it has been months since you last played the game, and the characters became all the more real to you even if you didn't want them to be... yet at the same time still just characters.

Yanfei would occasionally visit your home when you realize that she had her own problems other than what the game shows. That her words weren't on repeat, but actual genuine interest.

It made you think about the future choices that have yet to happen when Zhongli would choose to "die" in the ceremony... how much panic and worry would strike the citizens but also you. It also made you think about a certain toy seller who would cause even greater trouble and turbulence. The same man who waved at you.

It wasn't like you could stop him. You didn't have a vision, nor were you strong enough to fight him.

Choosing to stay quiet till everything passed was what you chose to do when everything would finally happen. You already knew that everything would end well one way or another with the help of the traveler.

You didn't expect to see him again in the mountains. This time, he was sitting on the grass as if he had finished training just a few moments ago. With how messy the whole place around him was? No doubt.

Hidden behind the trees, you stared at the man who you thought didn't notice you, carefully taking a step back you plan to leave.

"You know, it was quite rude of you to just go when someone greets you."

You flinched as you glanced back at him, a cheerful smile on his face.

You were caught.

"I am sorry... I was in a hurry back then." You tried to make an excuse, not making a move to go towards the man nor stepping away to make a run for it. It would be too suspicious. Tho... he probably already was suspicious of you.

"Hmmm, I am not so sure about that."

You watched as he sat up still watching you, "While I don't exactly think that you are a spy seeing how concentrated you were in collecting those herbs, you looked like you almost like a rabbit frozen in place as if I have come to bite you." The smile never once went down, but it also never reached his eyes.

"Tell me, have we met before? Your eyes recognized me when you saw me, but I don't remember ever seeing you."

You bite your lip as you look away. Were you really that obvious? You wondered, but you shook your head. "I don't recall ever meeting you in my life. It was because I experienced an… unfortunate event with the fatui that I now choose to just avoid them." You told him... somewhat honestly…

Well, half truth and half lie really… You did experience events from the game that almost made you dislike the fatui when you watch them cause so much trouble. But you also meet a few here, and while most ignore you, some could be rather...

So, really, you aren't wrong. You just hoped that Childe actually buys into the story enough to leave you from now on.

"Hmmm… Is that so. Well, maybe you can tell me who it was, and I will go check?" ...Childe was definitely trying to do something here. "That won't be needed." You said almost harshly. You were nervous.

"Now, now. If they made a mistake and hurt the passerby for no reason, then they are definitely at fault for it and would need punishment." Childe raised his hand, the other on his waist. "That isn't needed." You told him raising your hand as if to stop him, "It was long ago now, and I do not remember the person's face, nor do I care to get some sort of revenge."

Rather than a random fatui, you prefer if someone could knock some sense into the man in front of you. Not that you would say that.

You already packed your bags and were planning to head out as soon as you heard that Monstade was saved by the traveler and head there for a vacation away from the chaos here. You saved some mora just for this reason, too.

"Ahh, alright. Then how about this. How about I hang out with you whenever you go to the mountains? Think of it as an apology from the fatui." Childe said, taking a step closer still with a friendly smile. You lightly bite your tongue, wondering why he was so insistent. There was absolutely nothing special about you to warrant such interest like this. "That would not be needed."

"Well, but had I not come here a moment or two later, you would have already been hurt by the hilichurl camp here," Childe told you, his smile widening almost like a Cheshire cat. Quickly, you looked to his side, and your eyes widened in surprise. Of course, the mess was from a hilichurl camp.

"Don't worry too much about it they are all down. While you gathered herbs, I can clear out the place for you, and if there is a particularly hard place to get to something, I can also help you out." Childe made the deal sweet in his own opinion, yet when he raised his hand for a handshake you looked into his eyes and noticed that he still was suspicious of you, and you knew that if you declined here he would try other means to watch over you.

You frowned at him again, "I already told you that I do not wish assistance from the fatui."

"Hmmm, okay there. I will just be right beside you, not as a protector or anything like that, but more on an accidental meeting." You have been left speechless at how shameless this man was. All the while, he continued to smile as if he didn't say anything wrong.

And as much as you hated it, he kept his promise or whatever you would call it. Whenever you would go to the mountains, he was always there acting as if he was just going to head up too and that the two of you should hang out. Or that time you met him on the way, and he decided to follow you up again when you clearly saw that he was actually going down it. When you change the time you usually go up the mountains thinking you could outmaneuver him... he was there waiting for you.

It was unnerving really how often he followed you, as you would now see him in the market and the streets of Liyue Harbor. "Ah! I didn't expect to meet you here, comrade." Childe would openly greet you while you want nothing more than to look away. You didn't doubt that he had eyes everywhere... he probably placed a spy or two on you if he was actually suspicious of you.

Yet somehow you thought that this was different, that the eyes on you weren't cause you were a spy but something else. Not when you realize that Childe's eyes were always on you, no matter what you do, he was always there...

What did he notice...

It was always amusing watching you search for that moment to scurry away like a mouse whenever the two of you meet. It was something that Childe always took pleasure teasing you with.

You have always been like this except to a way to various degrees even with others but more so with him. There was always a distance between you and the world that he craved to figure out. When he first came to Liyue a few months ago, Childe had seen you a few times walking around the streets. You weren't special well, not at first, while vision holders tend to have their own distinct style. You choose something that blended with the crowd and their fashion.

He didn't really care much, just a moment thought and then to the next topic he had to deal with. But he couldn't help himself but look at you again after he noticed you on the side of the street with some vision holders. You guys were talking for a bit, but Childe noticed that stare you had almost knowing, yet no words of it came out of your mouth.

A few times later, he saw you by chance. You sometimes had this distant look in your eyes as you watched the ships come and leave the docks. Sometimes, it was a cautious look or maybe sometimes impatient, but you were always watchful... waiting. You were always looking for so clues, what he wasn't sure but had as time passed gotten curious.

The first time you saw him, he thought that you would maybe wave back as he raised his hand, yet much to his surprise there was recognition in yoru eyes, and then the next thing you did was run away.

You knew him, even tho he had no remembrance of ever meeting you before he noticed you. There was a certain thrill that beat in his heart when he realized that you knew more than you let on.

And to him, it was an invitation to a chase.

He followed you almost ever you went ever since then, mildly disappointed when his duties call for him as he had to for a short put a cause to the chase. But the more he spent time with you, watching you, he knew that you were definitely hiding something. The knowing look you sometimes give to others when you thought that they were looking, as you withheld information that was just about to reach the tip of your tongue. The look that you gave him, when he talked about certain topics, his trill towards fighting, your eyes told him that you knew something that he never told anyone else other than his close associates.

And to him, it was nothing but trilling. You have become something likened to a prey that he had become found over. Someday, there is this itch of wanting nothing more than to rip you apart to know everything about you, but he cherishes you just enough not to.

It would be sad to destroy you like that, but to be fair, even if he had patience... he could only wait for so long.

Note: It is his special day so loll

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moralesluvr · 1 day ago

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FABLE AND TRUTH 1 | billie eilish

୧ ‧₊˚ love was the law & religion was taught…. ↳ summary: you had always been raised on being poise, feminine, classy. but what was most important to your family was your religion— and it had embroidered itself into your daily life. but when it’s time to pick between feelings and faith, which will you choose? pairings & aus. billie eilish x fem!reader warnings. religious backgrounds & guilt | mature language | sexual content | substance use author's note. YAYYY ITS STARTINGG!! wc. 4.4k

✧ 9:06 am, monday ✧

the bells of harkness tower toll sharply, their deep, reverberating chimes slicing through the crisp autumn air. the sound is rich and weighted, echoing across yale’s storied campus, signaling the start of another day as people dispersed from their dorms and earlier classes, talking amongst themselves and hastily walking to their next destination.

the mist of early morning clings to the aged stone of the university, a slight fog covering over you as you walk briskly across the cobblestone pathways, your leather satchel bouncing gently against your side. chanel pumps decorate your feet, a cartier bracelet accenting your freshly tanned skin. your sleek, blown-out hair was framed against your face, bouncing slightly with every step, and your pale pink cardigan stood out amid the sea of muted fall tones around you.

beside you was emma harper, your best friend— strolling at a leisurely pace, tugging her scarf tighter against the crisp autumn air that whacked against the both of you. where you were polished and deliberate, emma was bold and carefree, her wild auburn hair nearly as untamed as her personality .

the two of you couldn't have been more different, yet your friendship had stood the test of time, from summers in france to your shared journey at yale.

"you're going to give yourself a stress migraine, y/n." emma teased at you, nudging your shoulder as you both approached your lecture hall, "professor weller isn't grading us on who takes the prettiest notes, or who sits at the front. why so worked up?”

you offered up a small laugh, though your grip on your notebook tightened. a sigh follows your short-lived giggle, "i just want to be prepared. philosophy of religion isn't exactly a casual topic. it's very intense."

"you've been prepared since the first day of class," emma grumbles, rolling her eyes. "honey, you're literally the only person i know who can quote augustine without looking it up. so relax a little."

relax. you had heard that word countless times, usually from emma. it wasn't that you didn't know how— it was just that there was always so much to do. papers to write, prayers to say, a faith to nurture. for you, discipline wasn't a burden; it was a way of life, a way of honoring the God who had guided you this far.

but as you entered the lecture hall and emma plopped into the seat adjacent to yours, you couldn't help but smile. emma was right in her own way— you could afford to let go sometimes. just... not too much. everything always had to be structured, neat, and in order. just how you liked it.

professor weller's lecture was as engaging as ever, his voice commanding attention as he wove through topics of faith and reason, along with their uncomfortable contrasts and truths. you sat straight-backed, your pen flying across the page as you absorbed every word with neat, pretty handwriting, your pink pen gliding against your paper. emma, meanwhile, alternated between typing notes and sneaking glances at her phone, her impatience barely concealed as she locked her phone, slipping it into a pocket.

midway through the lecture, emma leaned over, her voice low. "sooooo, sam's hosting a party tonight…”

you didn't look up, still writing away on your paper attentively, "and how does that concern me?"

"well, he wants to know if we're coming, duh.”

you paused your writing just long enough to shoot emma a knowing look. you cock your head to the side, lips forced into a pout, "come on em, you know i don't do parties."

emma groaned softly, "right, of course. yale's resident saint doesn't do parties.” she throws her hands up in defense, “whatever. but just come with me, please? i promise, you’ll have fun!"

"it's not about being a saint," you whispered back, your tone firm, but always remaining kind. "i just don't see the point in spending a night doing... things i'd regret, like doing substances that make me forget i’m on planet earth. it’s never been my thing.”

emma smirked, "not everyone regrets it, you know. some people do actually have fun. maybe you should learn how.”

you smiled faintly, but said nothing. having fun wasn't the issue—it never had been.you did have fun— doing things that actually mattered, things that actually interested you. you could curl up with coffee and a good novel, or crochet a new sweater, there were multitudes of things that you did for fun.

but in contrast, emma was the party girl. her type of fun was smoking a bit of weed and blasting music in her audi, or going home with various guys that she’d meet out at bars, or even in passing. she was bold, strong, carefree. but you adored structure, class— you didn’t put her down for doing what she does, she’s your best friend, afterall— but it just wasn’t your style.

it was about your values, about living a life that aligned with the principles that you had held dear for so long. you weren’t naïve; you knew what went on at those parties. drinking, hookups, conversations drowned out by loud music... and none of it appealed to you.

emma, to her credit, didn't push further. your friendship always worked out so well because you respected each other's boundaries, even when you didn't understand them.

you packed up your things as the sound of the bell’s ring filled your ears, sliding your bag into your shoulder as you waited for emma to stash her loose papers into her bag. you frowned, “your organization skills are..definitely something.”

she just laughed it off, “works for me. i like living life on the edge.”

after class, the two of you made your way across campus, the golden autumn leaves crunching beneath emma's boots and your new, all-black pumps. yale's gothic architecture loomed around you as you treaded against the grass, looking at all the buildings that were majestic and timeless, a reminder of the legacy that you were part of.

"there they are!" emma hollers, spotting your friend group near the library steps.

oliver, ever the charmer, was lounging against the stone railing, his tailored coat giving him an air of effortless sophistication. he flipped a hand through his brown hair as he looked up, his eye landing on you and emma as she shot you both a warm smile. you spotted naomi first though, her bright purple hair almost impossible to miss— and she waved a ring-accented hand at you, a cigarette shoved between her index and middle finger. jules was seated right next to naomi, her black hair sleek and flowing down her back, complimenting her starry eyeshadow and long, red nails as she twiddled her fingers at you in greeting.

"y/n! emma!" oliver called, his grin broad and welcoming as he waved you and emma over, his lanky frame extending, ready to greet you with hugs like he always did.

emma sauntered over, her confidence nearly as natural as breathing. you followed her lead, offering polite smiles as you joined the group, taking a seat next to naomi. she pulls you into a tight embrace, planting a little kiss on your cheek, “y/n! hi my love! missed you so much!”

she smelled of cigarette smoke and versace perfume, and the mixture was always oddly comforting to you. you giggle at her over-the-top affection, though you always loved it. naomi was the sweet one of the group, always offering the shirt off of her back if she really needed to. she was beautiful— inside and out, her whimsical fashion sense complimenting how pure and sweet her soul was.

"so," jules started, exhaling a plume of smoke from her half-dead cigarette, "sam's party tonight. we going?"

"i'm in," oliver said immediately, adjusting his coat with a shrug that oozed nonchalance, “need to get out a bit, yeah?”

"same here.” naomi added, flicking ash from her cigarette as her eyes found yours, and then all eyes simultaneously turned to you. you sat slightly apart from the rest of them, your pink cardigan and neatly pressed skirt a stark contrast to the haze of thick cigarette smoke and leather jackets. you smiled gently, your hands clasped in front of your frame.

you let off a shrug, a little sick and tired of having to repeat these same words over and over again, "you know i don't do parties.” you shrug gently, your voice soft but resolute.

"come on, little saint," emma teased, crossing her arms at your protest, "just one night. we’re your best friends, we promise that nothing will happen to you— we won’t let it.” emma’s statement earns approving nods from the rest of the group, sharing looks with one another in hopes that their eagerness was convincing to you.

it wasn’t.

you laughed lightly, shaking your head, "just isn’t my thing, you all know this—“ you gesture to everyone, “i really just don’t feel up to it."

oliver shrugs, while naomi and jules nod quietly. they weren’t going to push you, so they just carry on with their conversation, chatting about classes, teachers, and everything that surrounded it.

as the conversation flipped to other topics, you found yourself falling quiet, content with listening in as the others bantered. you loved your friends, truly you did— but moments like this reminded you of just how different you were from them. it wasn't a bad thing, necessarily; it was just... isolating, sometimes.

faith had always been your anchor, the thing that kept you steady in a world that often felt so chaotic. but every now and then, you wondered if it also kept you apart, if your refusal to compromise made yourself unknowable in ways even your closest friends couldn't understand.

you eventually pushed the thought away as emma started telling a story about some disastrous group project in her third class, her animated gestures pulling laughter out of everyone.

comparison was the thief of joy— you knew this, but you sometimes wished that you could be more like emma. carefree yet compassionate, smart but knowing when to let loose. sometimes, you felt like you could be a little too uptight, and jealously oozed from your pores at you watched your best friend take a drag from a cigarette, laughing and carrying on with wide, sparkling green eyes.

but you refused to get sucked up in comparisons, so you smile, warmth blooming in your chest as everyone stood up, walking to the main hall for a passing period.

you thought long and hard about the idea of going to a party with everyone— it seemed stupid in your humble opinion, but you missed hanging out with your friends— so you offered up, “okay, i have a proposal. what if i go to this stupid party, but only to drive? i’ll make sure none of you get too drunk and wind up someplace you aren’t supposed to be.”

that makes everyone cheer, and naomi flips her long, shiny black hair to the side, “yes! yes!” she wraps you in an embrace that’s so tight you can hardly breathe, “— you’re the best! love you!”

you offered a nervous smile towards the group as you filed into a starbucks, waiting in line as your friends carried on about what everyone was wearing, what drinks they hoped were there— and that’s when you tuned out. you were pumped to attend this party, but also scared, and as the day went on, the burden of going to this function was the only thing on your mind.

✧ 7:45 pm ✧

you sat cross-legged on your bed in your shared dorm room, your closet doors open as you stared at the carefully organized clothes inside. the room smelled faintly of lavender and pine, a subtle touch from the air freshener you’d tucked beside your desk— it always seemed to calm you down. your eyes scanned the rack, hoping something could catch your eye, but nothing particularly stood out.

emma had insisted that you join in on their festivities until you finally caved and said yes. you had reluctantly agreed, though you couldn't quite shake the nagging feeling that you didn't belong in that atmosphere. but now you felt like you needed to go— you had to, the feeling of missing out making you a little afraid.

finally, you settled on a dark blue polo sweater that clung to your figure just enough to be flattering, but was still modest. you paired it with some well-fitted jeans and, of course, your signature black heels—Chanel, naturally. it was a bit more casual than what most people would wear to a party, but it was your style, so you didn’t really mind.

just as you were smoothing out the sweater's collar, emma barged into the room, her wild hair a stark contrast to your usual, soft blow out. emma's eyes immediately landed on your outfit as she raised her eyebrows.

"you're really gonna go with the ‘first day of prep school’ look, huh?" emma teased, tossing her purse onto your bed before digging through her own closet for something more daring.

"what's wrong with my outfit?” you asked, glancing at yourself in the mirror, twisting on your heel and flattening out a small wrinkle in your jeans.

"oh, nothing," emma grinned mischievously, shrugging, "it's just so... you. not a bad thing, just— this is a party that you're going to, did you forget?”

you chuckled softly, fixing your hair in the mirror now, "i know, but i think it suits me, em. is that so bad?"

emma snorted. "right, of course. just—" she stopped mid-sentence, tossing her hands up in frustration. "you look so cute, but it's a party! where's the wild side, y/n?"

"i'm here to drive you guys," you said simply, a smile tugging at your llips. "that's all. i'm not here for anything else."

emma raised an eyebrow, pulling a dark velvet mini skirt off the rack. "yeah, yeah, i know. but you need to have fun, too. you're way too uptight sometimes."

"i'm not uptight, em!” you protested, though the smile on your face betrayed you.

"uh-huh, sure. just wait until i drag you out onto the dance floor!” emma winked, throwing a bold crop top onto the surface of your bed, “and you’d look so fucking good in this, why don’t you put this on?”

you snorted lightly. "yeah, good luck with that."

by the time everyone in the group was ready, the night was creeping in, the campus already buzzing with excitement. you could feel a quiet sense of discomfort stirring within yourself —parties weren't your scene at all, and you weren’t sure what to expect. but the drive to the party felt like the safest option, so you settled on that.

after a few minutes of emma touching up her makeup and slipping a pair of louboutins on, everyone met up in the parking lot, and you felt a little out of place. jules was clad in a black, tight mini dress with slick silver heels, her hair in a effortless but beautiful bun as she pulled out her digital camera to take pictures. naomi had settled on a purple halter top and a black skirt, complimentary to oliver’s lavender top and leather pants.

jules gave you a raised eyebrow, “you sure you don’t wanna change out of that?”

you gave out a sigh, a little irritated with how many times someone had suggested to change out of your outfit. it was comfortable, and that’s all you really cared about— so you just nodded yes, grabbing your keys and heading to your car while everyone finished up their photos.

emma and the others climbed into your car, the sound of music and laughter filling the air as you made your way over to the address. the streets were lined with people, most of them laughing or stumbling their way into various houses or apartments. as you neared the destination, you felt your heartbeat quicken.

although you didn’t want to admit it, you were a little nervous. you had never stepped foot into a house party, and it felt so off that you’d literally be in a random stranger’s home with a bunch of other people you didn’t know, and you were supposed to dance and get drunk in these conditions? absolutely not.

the party was already in full swing by the time that you and your friends arrived. music blared from the speakers, a mix of bass-heavy tracks and indie-pop anthems that were so foreign to you. you killed the engine and parked the car, trying to steady your breathing as everyone filed out.

"you're gonna be fine," emma said, slinging her arm around your shoulder as you approached the door, "trust me, it's just a party."

"well, i've never been good at these," you admitted, your voice seldom quiet, "i've never even been to one."

emma grinned, tugging you inside. "well, now you have the opportunity to be good at them. so let’s go!”

you sighed as the group filed into the house, which was chaotic, with people everywhere— laughing, drinking, shouting over the music, and making out in random corners. you felt immediately out of place, standing still for a moment to take it all in. you followed emma as she navigated through the crowd, her heels clicking on the hardwood floor, while the others spread out, eager to catch up with their friends.

you didn't expect to enjoy herself, but a part of you longed to feel connected—to lose the anxiety that seemed to constantly gnaw at you. but it just wasn’t something that you were all that familiar with. you tried to hold onto emma as long as you could, but she eventually found some cute guy to buy her a drink and have a quick dance, so you ventured off, attempting to find some refuge in a corner that you could hide out in.

as you walked, you heard something in the distance, smooth and beautiful.

a voice.

it was soft, haunting, yet full of raw emotion, it stood out amid the chaos of the house. the crowd around you seemed oblivious to it, caught up in their own worlds. but you, however, stood frozen for a moment, the familiar pang of curiosity tugging at you.

it was an acoustic set, just a voice and a guitar— but it was captivating. the melody drifted over the noise of the party, lulling you into some kind of trance. you had never heard the song before, so you pulled out your phone and quickly opened Shazam, holding it up to the sound.

as the app processed, the result popped up on your screen: billie eilish.

your heart skipped. you knew the name. of course you did. billie eilish was a sensation. a moment— everyone knew her name.

you lingered in the background, mesmerized by the performance. billie's voice was even more incredible live, filled with emotion, effortless and raw. you didn't notice how long you had been standing there, listening to the music, and you really only noticed because your feet were slightly sore from the heels. you started to walk away to find your friends until you felt someone brush past you— someone who was too close, and way too fast.

clink.

before you could move, you felt a cold splash across your chest.

"shit, i am so sorry!"

you looked down at your sweater, now stained with the dark liquid from some foreign drink, and your heart sank. it was easily your favorite sweater, and it was all ruined now. but when you looked up, you were met the apologetic gaze of a girl with striking, pitch black hair and vivid blue eyes. it was billie eilish.

"oh my gosh," you spoke softly, though you couldn't help the tiny flare of irritation, “no, i-it’s okay…but….you're…”

“billie eilish?” she asked, and you nodded in response, almost too shocked to really say anything else.

she was beautiful, way more beautiful now that she was standing right in front of your face, literally. her eyes were a piercing blue, oceany and warm, and every single one of her features were so unique, so prominent, and you felt your breath hitch.

billie's expression shifted as you stayed quiet, her lips curling into an apologetic smile, "i didn't mean to bump into you, love, i'm really sorry. let me fix this."

you shook your head, trying to laugh it off, "oh, no need, it's fine. it's just a silly sweater, i can always wash it out."

"no, no, it was shitty of me to not look where i was going, so i'll make it up to you," billie said quickly, like she was in some type of rush. "i'll buy you a drink. how about that?"

you stood frozen for a moment, wondering whether or not it was even worth the hassle to make billie buy a drink for you, or even tell her that you don’t drink at all. but she was persistent, and you knew that no matter how much you protested, she was going to somehow offer up a repercussion for her actions.

"uh, i don't really..." you drafted, your voice still soft, unsure if you wanted to ruin this moment, by saying alcohol wasn't really your thing, so you just shrugged. "okay, yeah, sure."

billie left you with a wink as she turned around. "cool. i'll be right back."

billie disappeared into the crowd, leaving you standing in the middle of the chaos with the awful remnants of your ruined sweater, but somehow feeling a little more at ease than before. the music blared, people shouting and laughing over the pounding beats, but you couldn't help but feel something strange settle in you chest. billie was sweet, and thoughtful, and really the only person at the party who made you feel like you could just chill out.

a few minutes later, billie weaved through the crowd again, holding a glass in one hand and cutting through people like she owned the place. she didn’t really say excuse me, because people already knew to move. the crowd filed onto separate sides of the room as she walked through with a smile, her eyes finding yours as she met up with you again.

you looked reluctant to take the cup in her hand, so billie shook her head, "no no, it isn't alcoholic, don't worry." she smiled, handing you the drink, "i figured you'd be more comfortable with this. i can tell you don't really drink— so it's just grape juice."

you felt your lips curve upward, the kindness behind billie's words making something warm stir within you. you smiled, "thanks."

you sipped at the drink quietly, the cider sweet and refreshing, and you couldn't help but appreciate the thought behind it. billie hadn't tried to push anything else onto you, which made the whole thing feel a little less like a game, and you felt yourself soften up a bit.

billie swigged from her own red solo cup, the liquid inside clearly something much stronger, judging by the way she made a tight face when she drank from it. she let out a small cough, holding the empty cup in between her thumb and index finger, slumping against the wall, relaxed.

"yeah, no worries," billie spoke gently, "i know how people are with the whole 'let's get wasted' thing. i can tell that just isn’t your thing, yeah?”

you smiled at the words, but you still felt that familiar unease of discomfort just talking about it, "yeah, i just... i don't really get the appeal.”

"me neither," billie said bluntly, shrugging, “it's just a way for people to forget their shit for a minute. which i guess is fine sometimes, but it's not really my thing. i like to face everything, even the hard shit."

your brows furrowed slightly, cocking your head to the side, "but aren't you drinking...right now? excuse me for asking, i’m sorry.”

billie gave you a sharp look, her iridescent eyes glinting in the dim light. she waved a hand at you, "nah, i get it, don’t apologize. i only drink sometimes, simply when i feel like it. but i can’t get with people pretending everything’s all fine and dandy when they’ve got a little alcohol in their system. i don’t like that.”

your chest tightened a little, your mind racing with how easy it was for billie to speak so openly, so unapologetically. it made you feel a little small, like all the structure you’d built around yourself was just a facade. billie didn't give two fucks, and that somehow made you want to be like that, even if it was just for a moment.

"i get it," you said quietly, your voice calmer now, "i mean, i don't know if i'm that brave. but... i get it."

before billie could respond back, the crowd shifted, and your attention was pulled across the room. emma was waving at you, impatience and irritation written all over her face. you glanced at billie one last time, feeling a flicker of regret at the thought of leaving the conversation behind.

"hey, i should probably go," you said, finishing off the last of your juice, "my best friend’s calling me."

billie nodded with a lazy grin, leaning back against the wall, "i understand. but next time, don't bail so quick, yeah?" i'll be here when you wanna party a little bit."

your smile lingered as you turned to leave, pulling your purse closer to your chest, "well, then i don't think you'll ever see me again."

you gave billie a wave goodbye as you walked toward emma, and you felt your heart literally beating out of your chest as you tried to place this weird feeling you got from billie. you were intrigued by her, wanting to know more about her opinions, how she felt about any and everything. about–

"dude, are you coming or what?" emma's voice snapped you out of your thoughts. she was standing by the door now, arms crossed, a look of annoyance on her face. "i can’t believe what just happened to me, so please, let’s go before i get in a fight."

you laughed softly, shaking your head. "okay, i'm coming."

with one last glance at billie—who was already disappearing into the crowd again— you turned and walked toward emma, your mind racing with questions you didn't really have the answers to. you couldn't put billie out of her head. and somehow, you had a feeling it wasn't the last time you’d be seeing her tonight.

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rise-my-angel · 11 days ago

Text

Heart of the Great Wolf

A Snowy Wolf Pup

Paring: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader

Length: 5.2k

Warnings: mild angst, reference to past abusive relationship, implied stalking, lots of fluff

Notes: Just a little flash forward holiday drabble for the modern!au, I'm sorry it's so short. Previous Main Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here

Catelyn wrapped her cardigan around her tighter as she descended the stairs. The morning was cold, and it seemed overnight as if a very light sprinkle of snow had turned into a heavy snowfall that now covered the property. As she had passed down the second floor, she knew her children would all still be fast asleep this early. It was rare southern holidays and northern holidays matched up, but there was one week in the peak of approaching winter that did it. And for a house which followed both faiths, it was a busy week with many late nights for her children.

Only noticing one specific bedroom door left slightly open and empty looking, she narrowed her brows as she realized now four people in the house were awake and yet there wasn’t a sound to indicate where they were. Though, already finding the kitchen having been in use, it was clear despite the early hour those four had been awake for some time. Not bothering to search far yet, she only begun preparing coffee when the front door opened.

Her eyes trailing over only to be greeted by Ned as he put something on the smaller table off to the side of the kitchen. A fond smile coming over her as she shook her head, “Every year I believe more and more you can sense when it snows in your sleep.” A deep chuckle left him, passing her by but not before leaving a kiss to the back of her head to grab a mug of his own. Bringing up your name she only asked in a casual manner, “Was she and the others already awake at whatever hour you woke up?”

Ned had a fond smile as he gestured his head somewhat to the other side of the house for her to take a look. Outside passed the glass door leading to the porch was even more heavy snow, but this one unlike the view from her bedroom window of the clear front year, the back was not so left pristine.

Four figures were outside, and from the looks of it, you all had been for some time now.

Kneeling down, your face was twisted into a playful frustration as you were in a fight of your life to keep the toy rope. Ghost was braced in front of you with a deep growl as he tried to pull back on the toy as you did the same against him. It had turned into a game of who would pull the other into the snow, and Ghost was happy to indulge. His fur made him look almost blending into the snow around you even as it continued to fall, save for his red eyes. You amusingly knew any else would feel fear at a direwolf growling as it tried to tear something from your grip, but you knew if you simply let go and gave up now, Ghost would stop and whine for you to keep playing.

It wasn’t the only sounds though. If you looked further down the backyard, you could see two mops of inky black curls, only one much shorter to the ground, as both attempted to make a snow castle.

Even now it never failed to astound you how quickly little Eddard had started to look exactly like his father. He had your green eyes, but everything else around him was so distinctly Jon and watching them side by side now was only ever more prominent. His hair was growing very quickly, quicker then you could recall Shireens hair at just a little over one year old. Just another thing he got from Jon, luckily. All of the best genes coming from his father.

Little Eddard had seen snow before, but only light flakes and sprinklings that typically covered thin across the grass in the morning and melted by the evening. This was the first time a true snowfall happened since he was born, and the moment he saw it as he woke up he wanted to go outside, and neither of you could bear to deny him that.

Jon had jested that he was only behaving long enough to eat breakfast because you were there, but even then the little one fidgeted in his highchair as his wide, bright eyes kept looking to the kitchen window where he could still see fat snowflakes falling down in droves.

Still barley able to walk, Jon had stayed close with him the moment you put him down onto the ground as he begun to excitedly crawl through the snow. Father and son now building a snow castle, you could somewhat hear Jons deep rasp even from here explaining that their home used to be a castle. Asking his son ideas on what it looked like. Never getting even slightly impatient as he got too excited and knocked down some of the towers trying to help. Jon could get him to giggle each time instead of little Eddard wanting to say sorry, “I don’t think that looked right either.” He would say whenever the wide look came on Eddards face as if to say sorry.

They hadn’t make significant progress for how long you both had been out here, but you were fine with that. Before now, you had just been sitting back and watching them as you ran your gloved hand over Ghosts fur before he too got rowdy. Running to the other side of the yard only to come back with rope in his mouth and you read his intent clearly. Not noticing the sound of the glass door sliding open and shut, or spotting as Ned leaned against the banister along the porch steps watching with a fondness at the sight.

Sensing Ghost gaining the upper hand, you tried to lean back a bit more better leverage. Only, a grand mistake was made, guessing incorrectly at how stable of a position you already were in and the moment Ghost tugged the rope once more, did it slide from your gloves grasp. The direwolf celebrating in victory didn’t even keep it, barking loudly and playfully before all but tackling you to the ground trying to lick your face. A laugh came over you, making breathing a struggle let alone getting the large, heavy canine off of you.

The commotion had grabbed Jon and little Eddards attention, Jon knowing Ghost was only playing grinned at the sight, but his son was one, and didn’t quite understand. His voice high pitched and worried sounding did your head turn to the side as did Ghosts at the sound of little Eddard shouting “Mama,”

Flopping more onto the ground, he immediately tried to crawl over as if to push the direwolf off you himself, but Jon had a better idea it seemed. Calling over, “Ghost, ease up.” Did the direwolf give you space again as you pushed up to pet him, muttering what a trouble maker he was. Only for little Eddard to shout again, frustrated at crawling was going to make it so far away. Quickly kneeling over to the not so far his son had gotten, Jon gently grabbed him and helped stand him up, Eddards face twisted upset as he pointed at you. His eyes screaming the message that said you needed help.

But Jon held him gently on his two feet, a warmth in his voice as he muttered just loud enough for you to hear. “How about you show your mother how much we’ve been practising, yeah?” Looking over at him with wide eyes, Jon pressed a kiss to his forehead before pulling back. “You’ll make her so proud if you walk over to save her life.”

That did little Eddard in. Jon knew possibly more then you did, how much your son wanted to do things like a grown up to make you proud. You were proud no matter what, but he always wanted to do things for you much like Jon. His hand coming up to his mouth almost in a nervous habit as he looked between you and Jon at the distance he’d have to walk on those waddling little legs. But Jon nodded, not yet taking his hands away so he felt the support. You pushed up, not standing but more laying half way across the ground so you could stand up easily at any time, but upright that your son understood you wanted him to come to you.

Jon learned he was more eager to learn to walk if Jon was there to do the encouraging, and the prize for walking a certain distance was to walk over into your arms, but this was the longest he’d have to try yet to make it. Nodding at Jon, it was all up to him now to start walking. Jons eyes gazed up passed you, spotting his father watching from the porch before letting his gaze turn back to his son. One last whisper for now only him to hear, “Don’t be scared if you can’t walk the whole way, your mother will be proud that you even tried.”

Nodding back at him, did he finally start to move. He took his time, waddling along and the snow didn’t help much with quickness. But perhaps it did his balance, having to focus a lot more to wade through it then walk without obstacle. Pushing now more up to sit on your heels with your hands waiting on your thighs, you watched little Eddard as intently as he watched you. Not wanting to look at his feet but make it to you no matter what.

If you were to ask him, this was the most perilous adventure, the highest of stakes he had ever faced in his short life. It was perhaps a little over five feet of a distance, but he was so small it looked double that in distance. Jon stayed crouched as he watched you both, his eyes flickering up once more to glance at his own father watching. He could read the signs that he wanted to speak to Jon about something but was waiting until this moment played out. Sometimes it intimidated him, wondering if his father was judging his own skills as a father, but if he only focused back on you both then he could ignore it for if only right now.

Closer and closer little Eddard waddled over, clearly growing tired and your own view could tell he was getting upset that he might not make it. Looking up at Jon, he read you as if you had asked him outloud. A smile and a nod, you leaned forward a little bit, prompting him to speed up as you let your arms hold out to entice him. “Come on, sweet boy, just a few steps more.”

A sound came from him, both you and Jon knew it too well. If he fell now and didn’t get to you, he might cry. Your poor son, only twelve months old put so much pressure on himself to do things for you and make you proud even though all he really wanted was to cuddle in your arms. Watching him speed up, your eyes trailed how much his feet were dragging.

Moving the second you knew he was going to trip, you pushed yourself forward just enough so that little Eddard fell into your own arms. A loud gasp coming from you, and truly, barley having to exaggerate in the slightest as you picked him up. Standing upright, you held him in the air a bit from you in a celebration, giggling right away as his hands tried wacking at you wanting to be held closer. Pulling him into your arms, close, you pressed a kiss to the top of his head as he cuddled close right away. Shifting so you held him more by your side so you could run a free hand over his thick curls he asked with bright eyes, “Mama?” He never said many words at once, but you could read him perfectly, his bright eyes were actually asking you if he did it.

A soft smile came over you, pulling him back to kiss the top of his head again before pulling back, “Yes you did, sweet boy.” Spotting as Jon came over, a hand running over little Eddards curls he muttered that he would be right back, nodding behind you. Half turning to see Ned standing and watching, before turning back. “Take your time.”

Instantly you carried little Eddard over to the snow castle, sitting him down as Ghost came up to his other side while you knelt there, asking him questions about his work so far, which he happily babbled some words, and mostly nonsense about what was what.

Jon approaching the steps gave his father a look to ask what was it, only to feel a concern rise in him as he only nodded towards the house. “I’ll show you.” Both kicking snow off their boots before taking them off, as if sensing Catelyn ready to round the corner telling them not to get the floor dirty and wet again. It sat on the couch nearby, a small wrapped gift with a card on top. Unopened, as Ned specified it came that way. “I haven’t opened it yet, I thought it was best if you were here to see it too.”

That feeling increased, first picking up the card he read in silence. Knowing his face gave it away when Jon put it together, who had sent this. An anger rose in his body, warming his blood as he felt himself, muscles and jaw tense up. “How?” Looking over to Ned, “How can he be allowed to send this when-”

Cutting him off, Ned already knew what Jon was going to ask. “All the information was sent through his father, so on paper it doesn’t appear as if he sent it. And there was no restriction for him not being allowed to speak to her.”

Low and cutting an edge, Jon felt no need to hide how he felt about this. His father knew too well that anger. “So he cheats, and finds a way to send something to her. Why?” If Jon looked more to the side he’d be able to see you and his son with bright smiles as you guided his hands around working on the castle yourselves. Out of all the time, his son had just reached his first nameday too. If his jaw could break from the force which he was clenching it tightly, it would’ve.

Helped no further by his fathers answer. “I don’t think it’s meant for her. He knows she lives here now with us, and we wouldn’t let her get a gift from him this way. I think he meant it for you.” The unspoken was understood between them, it was meant as a mock, whatever this was in the gift. The card already was barley anything, a lament about missing you and how much you’ve changed since you last saw each other since there was no chance he had not heard the news a year after you gave birth.

Slowly putting the card down, his eyes darkening did Jon pull at the ribbon keeping the modestly wrapped gift sealed. Every step as he did so felt it took ages, trying to contain whatever it was he’d find only to not be impressed. In fact, Jon could feel himself shake at his audacity. Ned leaned over and he could hear his father exhale roughly, knowing he matched in emotion. The rage in Jon made him want to drive to the Dreadfort now and do what he should’ve done the day they all saw you with a black eye.

A tiny pair of shoes. That’s all it was. A card for you, a gift for your son and all of the audacity of Ramsay Bolton to mock Jon by reaching out to you this time of year. He didn’t touch nor pick them up in any way, staring at them before all but roughly slamming the lid back onto the box. Looking at his father, a darker look shining in his own, both quiet wolves understood that this better be Ramsay’s only trick otherwise it would get very difficult to hold Jon back. “Don’t show this to her.” Both knew he meant you. “I don’t care what you do with it, but I don’t want her knowing he sent this, any of this. It’ll only upset her.”

Picking it up, the timing was lucky beyond belief as Ned just walked out of sight when he heard it. A hand running over his mouth trying to bring himself back down, did Jon hear the sliding door open and close. He loved how you looked. Snow still fresh in your hair as you held your son in your arms, snow in his curls that matched Jons. Only little Eddard was snuggled close to you with an adoring look he was fully aware Jon gave you all the time. Clearing his throat, he hoped you wouldn’t pick up on any of the tension he tried to now shake off.

Forcing himself to move to you as you carefully stepped out of your own boots Jon approached looking at his son. “Too cold, pup?” His son shook his head adamantly with a more serious, stern look on his face. “No?”

Little Eddard looked over at you, “Mama cold.” Your eyes closed for a moment as you huffed out a bemused sigh. Looking back with a playfully narrow eyed look, you muttered that you were fine staying out there as long as he wished, but little Eddard was not having it. “No.” Turning to look at Jon, and you must have known your word would lose against both of you. “Daddy. Mama cold.”

Looking you over, there was a shiver about you that begged to warm up, running a hand along your neck to cup your cheek, his hand inside from the warmth seeped into your cold skin as you leaned somewhat into his touch. Stepping close, Jon tilted your head better to look up at him, watching your eyes yet flutter closed as he leaned in. Letting his nose gently trace down the bridge of yours as he rasped, “You feel cold.” Opening your mouth to protest, Jon grinned. Sliding the hand on your cheek around to behind your neck, he pulled you forward more to press his lips to your forehead before resting his against yours. “Sorry, darling. You’ve been outvoted.”

Sighing deeply, you looked between them. “Honestly you two baby me,” turning specifically to little Eddard with a grin, “More then I baby you.” Leaning in very close it made him try to back away with a giggle before you matched Jons actions to you but to the baby, kissing his forehead. “Come on, let’s get you changed to something warm instead of this.”

Sometimes Jon had an urge to tell you that you should put him down and let him crawl when at least you both were here on the carpeted part of the house, but he struggled too. Telling you to put him down felt mean, it felt controlling even though he had heard Ned and Catelyn tell you that. But little Eddard snuggling into your arms, it felt unfair to deprive him of being so close to his mother, something Jon knew he never had. But too, it was the sight for him. The love of his life carrying the son you created together in your arms, it was something Jon would never get tired of, and he knew it.

You has gotten little Eddard changed into warmer clothes by the time he joined you both upstairs. Kneeling in front of the bed where you had him sitting, you were running a towel over his curls to dry them. “You can say you enjoy the cold all you like, until the day you get sick being out there for so long.”

Little Eddard shook his head, you simply working around him moving on you without bothering to gently tell him to sit still for you. Hearing his footsteps approach, you half turned to look up at him in time for Jon to sit gently on the bed beside his son, picking him up and sitting him cozy in his lap now as he looked down at him. Your own position not having changed, Jons eyes narrowed at you playfully. “What?”

Glancing to his hair and back, you knew the snow had much like in his sons curls, had begun to melt. Instead of saying a word, you pushed yourself upward, sighing as you climb behind both of them on the bed, kneeling being Jon as you didn’t bother saying a word as you gently ran the towel over him as well before water dripped all over the sheets.

A small giggle could be heard from in front of Jon, as well as is voice low and playful, “Whats so funny?” Little Eddard didn’t respond from what you could hear, but a giggle did get let out and almost a sort of yell to make him stop, Jon no doubt tickling him for laughing at him. As you leaned back on your heels, folding the towel before you bothered moving to get up, Jon turned halfway to look at you. “He gets this from you.”

About to gently place it on the side table, you turned back with your mouth partially open. Half blindly tossing it now as you moved back, your voice slightly raised as he could surely detect. “From me? If I’m not mistaken, I’m the one who when we were children, you kept referring to as a goody two shoes.” Only muttering with a smirk that he changed his mind, you mockingly huffed. Attempting to move up off the bed, only for Jon to move quicker.

Picking up the baby in one hand, holding him high on his chest as his other snatched at the edge of your sweater and yanked. Pulling you back into his lap with you giving out a small yelp, before landing in his warmth, and your son giggling endlessly. Instead of addressing Jon, you turned to the little one. Cupping both his cheeks gently you kissed his forehead and nose, muttering lowly but with a playful smile, “I think this is proof where you get being so silly from after all.” Pressing one more kiss to each of his cheeks as he giggled. Grabbing gently at your hair so you wouldn’t back away.

Jon didn’t bother trying to stop him, instead he only shifted on the bed enough so that you could rest against him more comfortably as he moved little Eddard to be more carried by you. The baby’s very small hand now clutching your loose hair as he held it close to his mouth, something he had done since nearly the first few days we was born. A sort of soothing act Maester Luwin had said it was, like one would clutch a stuffed animal or toy, but with something much closer to his mother.

Holding him closer, Eddard snuggled more into your shoulder. Jon ran his hand gentle through inky black locks that so closely resembled his, as the thought turned to words slipping from your mouth quietly before you could stop him. “At least he looks like you.” Jon hummed a question, your own head leaning back slightly into his, feeling Jon almost nuzzle into your hair as his son snuggled his face more into your neck and shoulder, all the action of the morning catching up to his small stature. “Eddard. At least if he’s like me, he looks just like you.”

Sighing into your hair, Jon pressed his lips to where they merely sat, as his other hand ran up and down your waist. “What does that mean? At least he looks like me?”

You didn’t say it with malice, nor insecurity or judgment, but perhaps to Jon you should’ve known he’d have taken it as such. “I’m glad. I’d rather he look like you any day then me.” Holding your waist a bit tighter, Jons voice was low, and a bit on edge as if needing to jump to your own defence as he muttered that there was nothing wrong with the baby looking like you.

It wasn’t easy, still shaking off those feelings that you’ve changed since giving birth to him. The feeling as if Jon just may look at others and wonder when you’d start looking more like then again. He never expressed the thought, but it permeated for weeks when you first came home from the hospital what a mess you must look in comparison. Sometimes now it flared up, and Jon was always on the defence whenever you might even trickle into such a train of thought again.

But, you knew he wouldn’t suspect what you meant, nor did you want to explain it plainly for his own ego. You simply said it, because looking down at your son, it was so clear. “It’s like a part of you is still here, even when you have to be away for so long.” Jon went quiet, and you knew him having to still work so many days away at a time in some instances was difficult on him. “He looks just like you, and no matter what you claim, he acts just like you. Even if you’re away, he still has me and I still have him, and in a way it’s like you never really left.”

He said nothing, nor did you expect him too. He wasn’t a man of easy words when emotions ran deep and by the long, shaking exhale he let out, there was some rawness in how he felt about that. Not that you meant anything specific by it, but when you had spent the better part of the morning looking at both of them together, it was hard to keep your mind off of how you may have gifted him a child he always wanted, but he gifted you something too. A way to never truly feel alone without him anymore.

You weren’t sure how long you both sat there. Eddard not quite asleep, but his eyes drooping and drifting off as if relaxed too much to care about anything else. And with Jons warmth behind you, it made the urge to get up no faster. But, eventually one by one doors opened and voices filled the hallway outside Jons room before directing downstairs.

Leaning back into him, Jon pressed a kiss down to your neck, almost hiding against you on the other side of your neck and shoulder as Eddard, without even realizing. The sounds of breakfast downstairs starting, as meal times always made the echo in the Stark house loud, Jon muttered, “Do you want to join them? You didn’t have much earlier.”

You thought about it, and if he was suggesting it you knew Jon also could likely be hungry but you instead pulled back to run your hand over little Eddards curls. “What about you, sweet boy? Do you want to join everyone for breakfast?” Shaking his head no, you heard and felt Jon chuckle. A smile came over you, pushing your sons curls from out of his face more. “How about we get you something to eat in the kitchen, just the three of us?” He nodded at that.

You both knew why. When at proper meals, he hated being in the highchair. Only one of you could pay attention to him at a time, and you’d take turns so the other could eat and it never felt like a meal between you three that way. Whereas in the kitchen, you and Jon were much more liberal about where he could eat, and many times, he’d sit on your lap and eat as you would reach around his food to pick at yours.

Jons grip dropped to your waist, prompting you to stand up as he helped you so your hold on the baby didn’t jostle. Pausing, he looked at his son still grasping your hair. “Your mother won’t be able to eat if you’re holding onto her the whole time?” Shaking his head, as if your son was saying no he didn’t want to let go, but Jon knew. Walking to the other side of the room where his crib was, you turned to watch with a smile.

You knew exactly what he picked, and no matter how much he had now, toys or otherwise, it was still little Eddards favourite. His first toy. Jon gently cupped the side of his sons head, running a thumb over his cheek as he leaned to meet his eyes, holding up the small toy wolf plush in his other hand. “What about if your mother carries you, and you carry him? Will you let go of her hair then?”

Eddard slowly nodded, and even more slowly let your hair free as he grabbed at the wolf plush and pulled it very close to his chest, almost hiding his face in it comfortingly. Jon kissed the top of his head, before tilting your chin up to him. His thumb lightly brushed over your bottom lip before he met your lips in a kiss.

Sighing out right away, Jon captured the breath and didn’t release your kiss just yet. Instead, until you held no more breath to give, did he let go. Nothing but a slow, and chaste kiss that yet somehow left your lips tingling a bit, your eyes fluttered open far after Jons eyes opened to watch you. The words slipping from your lips without any hesitation. “I love you.”

Jon kissed you once more, muttering against them as his hot breath traced over your skin. “I love you too, darling.” Not another word was needed as he guided you both out of the hall and down the stairs.

Guiding you to the kitchen, Jon just barley could see the table everyone was sat around. Only catching Robbs curious eyes with a shake of his head to answer the silent question if he was joining. Only when Robb noticed little Eddard snuggled into your front did he nod with a smile. He knew too well not to interrupt his nephew when he was this warm and snuggling against you.

You stood in the back out of Jons way for a bit, his insistence to let him handle it as you muttered to the baby. “You did so well this morning, how far you walked? I’m so proud of you.” Snuggling closer, you pressed a kiss to the curls atop his head. Your eyes closed as you rested your head a little more comfortingly against him. He had come so far even at just a little over one.

Looking back to Jon, your own gaze softened. You had mulled over what gift to get him for the holidays for months, but in that moment you were fairly certain what you’d get him. What Jon would truly want more then anything else. You didn’t have it here and now, but you knew it would be a gift enough tonight after the baby was long asleep if you suggested it.

The question of whether or not it was too soon to start trying for a little girl.

#jon snow x reader #robb stark x reader #jon snow #robb stark #jon snow x you #robb stark x you #jon snow imagine #robb stark imagine #game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf

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theseeingfawn · 4 months ago

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Favorite Modern/AU Elriel Fanfiction

This is for you @capt-seaweed-girl 💗

🌹Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince by yourstarsmyscars

Description: Fresh off a brutal break-up, Elain is in need of a distraction. A casual fling. One no strings bad idea, with a guy she definitely won't get attached to, so she can finally move on.

Azriel has lost count of the number of women who've come to regret meeting him. But while he may be the worst idea Elain has had in a while, he's determined to prove that she won't regret him.

🌹Shadowsinger [erotic audio for women, nsfw] by @dottielovegood

Description: Azriel does audio porn. Elain is a big fan.

🌹A Match Baked In Heaven by NikeTheStatue

Description: Elain Archeron, owner of the prestigious Marigold Agency, which specialises in exclusive matchmaking has a new and very challenging client.

Azriel Night, football superstar, 'stubborn as a mule' (according to his brother Cassian), handsome womaniser is under pressure to find himself a wife. At stake--a 230 million inheritance.

Problem is--he can't stand his new matchmaker, and by the looks of it, she shares his feelings--she can barely tolerate him.

She is haughty, stuck-up, annoying, preachy and proper. And she 'believes in love'.

He is rude, temperamental, uncultured, full of issues and a bad attitude. And he doesn't have a romantic bone in his body.

Will Elain succeed in finding him a wife? A woman who'd learn to love him for what he is? It's a challenge that Elain will reluctantly take upon herself. Will she fail? Probably. But with the help of her faithful three-legged pug Piglet, she will do everything that she can to find Azriel his 'happily ever after'.

🌹The Enemy by @separatist-apologist

Description: In order to kill his most hated enemy, Azriel has to kidnap Graysen Nolan's fiance.Should be easy, right?

🌹Everywhere, Everything by @duskandcobalt

Description: Two close friends, one crossed line.…

After a decade of friendship, Elain and Azriel are left to navigate the fallout following an encounter that's far from platonic.

or A friends to lovers fic about denial and longing.

🌹Literally in Love by julesherondalex

Description: Welcome to Velaris High - your favorite idiots are now teaching innocent High School students.

One day, biology teacher Elain finds a love note addressed to her, without anyone taking responsibility for it. She’s left to figure out the hopeless romantic - all the while fighting her silly crush for the nerdy math teacher.

Get ready for sweet pining, misunderstandings and workplace romance.

(Song of the Fic: You Are The Solution (Chez Remix) - Loving Caliber)

🌹Nothing But Trouble by TheSeeingFawn (My fic)

Description: Elain Archeron, beloved sweetheart of the quaint town of Hewn Hills, yearns for a life beyond the constraints and expectations placed upon her by her family and community. Azriel Rosehall, a captivating yet misunderstood outsider, struggles with the prejudices of the town as he endeavors to forge his own destiny. Drawn to each other by an undeniable connection, Elain and Azriel are determined to be together, even if it means bringing trouble to the charming small-town.

Inspired by Practice Makes Perfect by Sarah Adams

“Everything that's worth having is some trouble." - L.M. Montgomery

#elriel fic #elriel fanfic #elain x azriel #elriel #azriel x elain

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the-artist-grimm · 2 months ago

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I’ve seen a lot of cotl au’s, but yours is definitely one of my favorites, and probably the cult I would choose to live in if I could.

Thank you! I'm glad you like my Au!!!!! And yeah at least in Anthea's cult, it is pretty safe?

Anthea's a good leader-but it's debatable if they're good as a cult leader. They try to run the cult more like a village than anything. There's sermons to Death of course-Anthea had been praying to him for years prior to even becoming vessel so they were more than happy to start the cult in his name, but outside of Sunday they're not completely mandatory (though everyone still tries to attend just because Anthea's preaching is very gentle/reassuring when compared to the Bishops). And it's only mandatory primarily because Anthea has a strict 'Sunday is Town Hall' rule where after sermon news, suggestions, problems, ect. are gone over, alongside plans for the week.

Narinder questioned their lax methods at first since even Ratau managed to be strict enough to place a divide between him and his cult's roles, but it did prove effective-followers were a lot more willing to put faith in a leader they felt saw them as people as opposed to the Bishops who sacrificed, cursed, and murdered followers left and right. Most had also lost their own villages and towns, so the familiarity was comforting. Narinder also paid more attention to Anthea's way of leading as opposed to other vessels. Usually he would only watch during crusades, sermons, or rituals, but Anthea would start talking to him just casually out of nowhere so often he kinda had no choice but to witness just how effective their kindness was. So different from his siblings...from himself-yet oddly something he grew to respect.

And though Anthea denied it early on, it was also out of their own desire for familiarity too-they missed the feeling of a village community. (plus their self-sacrificial nature made it difficult to be anything but nice to those in their care)

#I cannot picture this sheep being anything but nice to their followers-also easily horrified by the Bishops' converts #Leshy's mention that their sermons saw wild out of control parties? Anthea threatens time out if they even try-forget them all being adults #Heket's former followers mention cannibalism? Anthea loses it and scolds them #Kallamar's tell them what a Lust Rite is? Anthea turns redder than blood then cannot look any of them in the face for a day #Narinder's not sure to pity them or laugh when that one happens XD #crimson angel au #ask #crimson angel au lore

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jainydoe · 27 days ago

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Misdirection, Ch. 1

Chapter 2 Chapter 3 the sugar daddy au I promised...

This is not a love story.

That’s not how he looks at it, anyway.

Because he is, at his core, a hopeless romantic. Devout in his worship. Ever since he could twirl a flower and tuck it behind someone’s ear, he’s kneeled, their bodies his altar, every act of service his own type of prayer. In his youth, he couldn’t go days without it. After his classes, then in between classes, then sometimes, under the table, one hand writing notes, the other up a girl’s skirt, he’d whisper covenants in their ears, verses upon verses of the old poets and the new on how their beauty would snuff him out right there. It’s why he’s got his sights set on the Bureau - boots on the ground, hands in the dirt, paid to bring justice for souls ripped before their time. There’s nothing more terrifying than death - and in that, there’s nothing as seductive.

Then he gets to college and meets Johanna. The ultimate love story. Boy meets girl. Girl convinces boy the best solution to their raging hormones is a casual sexuationship where he can rail her and make her cum as much as he wants and he’ll let her cheat off their orgo and anatomy exams as payment. Boy is stupid enough to fall in love with girl and she’s bored enough by the rest of the riffraff to actually marry him.

In a shock to all, girl runs off and leaves boy with a baby, a soft little thing with grabby fingers and a gummy smile. He ignores the fact he has her eyes. Tells himself it doesn’t make him love him any less. As if branded and bruised, he can’t bring himself back to church. Not for a while. Not until the sting wears off. He tries meeting men at bars, women at libraries. He smiles and kisses hands and hopes they can see in his demeanor that he’s a man of faith. But maybe they aren’t believers. Maybe they find him dumb and naive. He’s flailing. Begging. Deranged. The spare times once or twice a year, eventually, that he’s pitied enough to be dragged to some hotel room, the Single Dad, the Divorcee, he’s gone for hours, babbling praise and praying on high that he hopes this will work, that this will make them stay, his devotion, his care. Everyone wants passion until it’s from Emmrich, it seems.

When he turns forty six, it marks a full year since the last time he’s had someone, and maybe it’s the time to reflect, but it’s allowed his allegiance to rot into hate. He’s a prude, now. A stiff. He’s always looked down on his colleagues who, in their happy marriages with their happy wives and happy lives, live in secret disgust, wasting away their bodies and wallets on themselves. Agnostics. Romantic on the holidays. Phonies.

It takes years to beat the love out of him. He’s celibate. He’s focused on fatherhood. He’s hardwired into work, the tsunami inside washing itself over the lives that intersect his area of expertise. He’s promoted. Then promoted, again. He’s at the top of his game. He’s the shit. He’s working 36 hours a week with the Bureau, and teaching at Nevarra U., and his students adore him, and the faculty worship him, and he tells himself this kind of love is enough. He’s Mr. FBI, Mr. PTA, Dr. Genius, and nothing and no one will have him on his knees ever again.

Then he runs into Archibald at the annual faculty gala.

SUBJECT: CLICK NOW for HOT Singles in YOUR AREA! XXX

Archibald Battenberg, PhD, JSD <[email protected]>

to evolkarin

Hey old pal,

Glad to have run into you. Mimi thought you were quite the charmer - just like old times, right? If you’re interested in other girls like her (or even her for that matter I’m all for liberation and whatever) I’ve included the link below. I’m sure you’ll pick a winner from the litter. Let’s get drinks, yeah? Celebrate the divorce? On me.

- Archie https://msdirection.com/ The code is SUGAR4BABY

Archibald was a fuck-wit and a menace. Had been since college. But Emmrich was notorious for skipping things ever since Manfred - really, ever since Johanna - and he wasn’t gonna go to the gala, seriously, but then he had a glass, then another, then Myrna called his private landline and there he was, cocktail in hand, counting the minutes until his alarm would indicate it’s time to vaporize into the night. As he’s nursing his manhattan and ignoring eye contact with the dean, he spots a woman, satin and sleek, a pampered panther in a sea of slippery sea beasts. She’s not a believer, he can tell, but the way she’s looking at him - she sees him for what he is and slinks his way before he could protest. They shake hands and she speaks eight languages and compliments his watch. Says she likes men who appreciate the real deal. He laughed in that breathless way he does when he’s shocked and on edge, watching her blunt hair frame her jaw in a way that made her attention all the more cutting and examining. Like a surgeon assessing their canvas. When he learned she was on the arm of Sloppy Archie-berg, he was a bit stunned. With Archibald’s signature ham-fisted tie, hoggish way of holding himself - Emmrich was pretty sure he didn’t even own conditioner. It was only once his date excused herself, though, that he’d revealed her secret. That Miss Mimi was a creature of the night. A call-girl , he called her, and Emmrich could tell Archie felt naughty even saying it. Like a child admitting they’d eaten sugar before bed. When Mimi returns and kisses Archibald’s cheek, Emmrich aches. Not for her, but for God. For the light of eternal delight to shine on his lips once again. He used to consider Johanna’s mouth the kingdom of heaven, and wonders, for the first time, if he’s been a misled fool.

He couldn’t remember a time when he ever found Archibald charming, but when Save-the-Dates went out for the big Volkarin-Hezenkoss wedding, he was the only one to respond with condolences. Emmrich decides to email back a yes to drinks and notably forgets all about Mimi and her company until the postcard from Antiva arrives in his mailbox.

Dear E,

Fuck you. I miss you. I’m moving back to the area. Say hi to the little guy for me.

Rot in hell,

There’s a verse he thinks of, about how the armor of God will protect you from the devil’s wiles, and maybe, he considers, God’s armor could be purchased through a subscription to Ms. Direction’s. It has to be. Because, for once, here are women who want it. Who want him. A man willing to tithe. This is for the Real Deal, he thinks. Not pussy-footing, quick-fuck, cheap-date juveniles. He’s dizzy as he locks the study door, Manfred in bed, all the lights out, and stares at his laptop as if it will begin whispering a beckoning call. Emmrich, come quick, come now, come enter your credit card information.

He does.

In a manner almost chaste and sweet, the website is basic. Bare-bones. He appreciates it. The way the black background and red font make it clear you’re here for sex. It’s been years since he’s let his eyes roam over others, and, for a quick moment, he thinks it’s a bad idea. Shallow biographies. Stupid usernames. Feet? Maybe he’s too old. Maybe he’s too tired. He’s on page four, wind wiped out, he doesn’t investigate why he thought Ms. Direction would have a slew of Nice Girls waiting, hands outstretched. If that hand were holding a crop, however. He crosses his legs and continues perusing the digital classifieds, willing himself to focus. Eventually, that leads to work-brain. He reminds himself these women aren’t in danger. They’re not minors. This isn’t illegal. His eyes gloss over in boredom.

MARIANNE, 19 Looking for a stud to treat me like a princess.

JULIA, 29 Just a naughty girl who needs to be punished.

RAVEN, 25 Let me treat you like filth-

He actually does click on her profile. But as he looks through her photos, sees her bedroom, the clothing on the floor and vat of lube - he wishes her well and leaves with a feeling of murky disgust.

It’s as he’s exiting her profile, deciding to exit the site altogether and possibly consider asking for a refund that he spots her.

Her.

It’s straightforward. A photo of her face. She calls herself Rook. Doesn’t explain why. She needs money for rent and is hoping to spend time with someone interesting. He can be interesting. If he tries. In that moment, he’s twenty again, looking purposefully at a girl’s mouth, then in her eyes, asking if she believes in the afterlife. Of hauntings. Of spirits and the occult and drawing little symbols on her palm that, according to legend, will connect her more deeply with the beyond.

He types a message.

Dear Rook,

You seem pretty interesting, yourself. I’m, certainly, interested in learning more. Would coffee be of interest?

For fuck’s sake, stop using the word interesting. You’re a doctor. Be eloquent. Fuck.

Dear Rook,

Coffee?

Too chaste. This is a stranger.

Rook,

No.

Darling Rook,

God.

Dear Rook,

I’m interested. Wanna get coffee?

Emmrich

He clicks send and feels the air rush out of chest as if sucked up by some phantasmal vacuum. He shuts off the laptop, tosses it on his desk and quickly paces up the stairs to his bedroom, working a knot into his robe. This is about as daring as he’s been since signing up for the gym membership, and we all know how that went.

The next morning passes quickly. Daycare then a morning class on elementary forensics then a quick lap on the track at the academy. He’s catching his breath, gulping down an icy reprieve when an email comes in.

SUBJECT: Re: Message to rookie24

His phone slips out of his hand, falling face down onto the grass. A student looks his way. He waves a hello, beginning to itch all over. His fingers shake as he opens the message.

Hi handsome,

Coffee sounds good. I’ll be at Crossroads by Fade Ave at noon this Saturday. Hope to see you there.

Rook x

He knows that means a kiss. He feels it, too. Standing there, sweaty and pulsing, he feels his heart rate quicken even more at the promise of something over the weekend. A date. A cheap miracle.

–

“You have got to be KIDDING ME,” she yells, ignoring the passerbyers and scared parents, beginning to grip their children tighter. She’s not one for making a scene, especially on the train, but this is the final straw.

Her medical bill is thousands. For an IV and aspirin and sitting in a cot. Look, hindsight, twenty-twenty, blah blah blah, point is she thought maybe fighting people for money could be a good way to get the bills paid. Taash said so, themself. And Lucanis and Davrin taught her how to properly throw a shank into someone’s side. And she wasn’t even that hurt, ultimately, but she did black out after Rowdy Regina Rockhouse (stupid name) got her in the back of Bellara’s Suburu and icing herself in the ER until 3am. She’s made a list on her fridge of sure-fire ways to get money without signing up for a third job or selling body parts. But after crossing out Underground Fight Club , she writes in gently, small, at the bottom ask Neve about selling body parts. Thankfully, she has lunch with Bell before giving Neve a call.

“I’m, like, poor. For a while, I thought I was poor, now I realize I wasn’t. This is it. And shut the fuck up, I know you’re gonna say some shit about rock bottom, going up and whatever, I don’t wanna hear it.”

Bellara is sympathetic in a way that’s not suffocating. Rook loves her for it. Trusts her for the life she’s lived that should’ve made her jaded, but didn’t. Maybe it’s that trust that has her not totally dismissing Bellara and calling her immediately crazy for her suggestion.

“You could always join a dating site.”

“I beg your pardon?”

She twirls a stick of honey in her tea, looking at the patrons surrounding them. “Check out that couple. That guy just bought her a pastry and latte. They look so happy. Maybe, oh, I don’t know, maybe meeting someone nice could help distract from all the ugliness?”

“You want me to whore myself for pastries.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“I’m gonna have to beg Mauricio to not evict me for the third month in a row and you think pastries and dick will fix that.”

“I’m not trying to minimize your issues, Rook, I mean, I can help with your bills for a little, or you could come stay with me, maybe, you know I don’t mind,”

“I don’t want you like that, Bel. You have a great ass, don’t get me wrong,”

“Rook,”

“But if I’m gonna be giving out the sugar, I’m gonna need some considerable sugar to make up for it. Oodles of sugar. Like, piles.”

“I don’t know how to talk with you when you’re like this.”

“You’re a genius, Bel.” She kisses her on the forehead and steals her apple turnover, taking a chomping bite as she makes her way to the exit. “Sugar for sugar, Belly baby.”

It takes about a half hour of careful research before she finds the perfect site. It even looks sexy. Catered towards brats and babies to be worshipped. She snorts. She’ll bite. She’ll fashion herself the nymphette of some old guy’s fantasy if it means paying off a credit card, or two. Hell, she’s fucked uglier men for less benefits. She tells herself this will be a cake walk.

She tries taking photos. Lacy edits of her with big eyes and red lips, but the thought of attracting anyone with it makes her nauseous. She figures her face will do. They’ll be looking at it a lot, probably, may as well see it for all it’s worth. She chooses one where she’s smiling and not still bruised from Raging Re-bitch-a-zilla Rockfart and calls it a day. No one will message her. She’ll forget she made the account. She will show up on Lucanis’ doorstep and promise him her firstborn in exchange for a roof over her head and possible bodyguard duties, because Mauricio will threaten her life in a week. It’s two in the morning and she’s almost finished with the final episode of Love is Kind when she gets a message. He doesn’t have a profile photo. He’s messaging potential cash-sluts past midnight. All signs say Do Not Interact. Which is why she brings it to Neve.

“Jesus, Rook, is it really that bad?”

She squints at her, knocking back a shot of bourbon and ignoring the way her throat widens up into a retch. “Was the direness of my situation not clear when I joined Taash’s fucking fight club? Or did that nude modeling bullshit? Or that outward-bound type camping gig where I slugged tents and crap for Lace?”

“It was very sweet of you to help those kids.”

“Yeah, well, now I need help.” She twirls the bottom of her glass against Neve’s desk. It’s ten in the morning but Neve doesn’t mind. She never does. Rook doesn’t know if it makes her feel better or worse. “Besides, some of those kids might be my competition now for cradle-robber-cock.”

“I don’t think your new friend will want you to call him, or it , that. Besides, he seems to like your profile. I say just go for it.” Rook shifts in her seat. “What’s stopping you?”

Nothing. Everything. This would be another person to disappoint. Another crutch. Another life she ruins. Neve is a mind-reader. “Stop being melodramatic, Rook.” She takes her hand, offering her quintessential, moody smile. “Whoever this Emmrich is, I’m sure he’s a big boy who can handle the likes of you.”

She messages him back.

–

Saturday arrives and a pile of clothes sits on Emmrich’s bed, vests and trousers splayed as he stands in the mirror, posing.

I look like hot, wet shit.

He grabs at his hair, pulling, eyes closed and breath slowing. This is fine. He’s fine. It’s just coffee. Something he drinks often.

This is meant to be pleasurable.

He holds that to his chest as he begins the ritual of preparing to leave the house. Lotions. Colognes. Hair gel and face creams. Would she like the way he smells? Does she hate facial hair? Or neckties? Or kids?

Saturday arrives and a pile of clothes sits on Rook’s floor. Is this the kind of guy who would want her in a dress? Should she wear black? Or something bright? Is this an interview? Should she shave? She calls Bellara and Davrin, hoping for a balanced review. They can’t agree on an outfit. She feels like hot, wet shit. Then comes the text from Lace. I’m stranded in the middle of Arlathan but Bell’s at work and I know you live close to the lab so I was wondering if maybe you’d possibly rescue me? Also Bellara’s agreed and Taash is here, too.

Rook is used to playing the hero. It’s the role she’s been cast in for years. But in this moment, she hates Lace Harding. She hopes her and Taash get stampeded. Or that they drown. These images provide comfort as she begins the trek to Bellara’s 2011 chariot. She’s never been a romantic. But for once, she feels truly hopeless.

#yeah I know the prose ain't shit #I just wanted to lay the groundwork and get it out for the weekend #yk. tryna do less gothic freak shit and be a little more open and fluffy? but if you want more gothic freak shit i am ALWAYS happy to oblig #yeah? anyway #I love you! thank you for reading!#rook x emmrich #emmrook #emmrich volkarin #rook #dragon age the veilguard #datv

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pennameless · 26 days ago

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Avenday theatre AU where Aventurine is the male lead, Robin is the female lead, and Sunday is the pianist in the pit orchestra.

[This got a lot longer than I expected and it kind of transforms into a fic format but still very rambly. Should I revise and make a full fic?]

Robin starts spending a lot of time with Aventurine during and outside of rehearsals, so Sunday sees him more frequently. Sunday starts crushing on Aventurine but he's still in his repressed/denial/religious guilt phase. He pushes the feelings away for a while, but deep down he's fallen hard. For a bit he's jealous of his sister, thinking there's something going on between them, before Robin casually mentions that he's gay (which somehow Sunday didn't realize), and Sunday feels weirdly relieved and hopeful.

So during combined rehearsals, Sunday catches himself looking at Aventurine quite a few times, and Aventurine notices. At this time Sunday is kind of known for being really religious and lowkey homophobic, so Aventurine does not like him. At the same time, he's always had a little suspicion that Sunday was not as straight as he made himself out to be, and now he's very suspicious that Sunday might like him. Aventurine is intrigued; he can't deny Sunday's beauty, and this new development is too fascinating to not investigate.

During breaks in rehearsals, Aventurine starts taking every opportunity to flirt with/bother Sunday. Sunday is taken aback. He denies Aventurine each time, but he's really flustered and awful at hiding it. Aventurine notices and uses it, trying to unravel Sunday's good-Christian-boy facade and see what's underneath. Sunday's reactions to Aventurine's prodding are always a strange mix of frustration and excitement. It's getting harder and harder to ignore his feelings and he's terrified.

It's too much for Sunday to handle on his own, so one day, he sits Robin down and says he needs to tell her something. His voice shakes and he confesses that he's in love with a boy, that he hates himself for this sin and he's terrified for what it means. Robin is shocked. She wraps her brother in a tight hug and doesn't let go. Sunday can't control the tears running down his face. Robin tells him that it's not wrong, it's not a sin, and he's not a bad person. Sunday is surprised, because she grew up with the same religious teachings. What changed? They discuss it for a long time. Robin talks about her changed relationship with faith, and how she still believes but rejects the hateful version of religion that she grew up in. Sunday had never thought about that before; it was always "believe and don't question." With this epiphany, things begin unraveling and Sunday's perspective starts to change.

At the next rehearsal, Aventurine is annoying and flirty as usual, but now Sunday can see it for what it is. "Aventurine," he says one day as his arm is around Sunday's shoulder. "Are you mocking me?"

Aventurine's face changes immediately. "Of course not. What kind of jerk do you take me for?"

"So you're just playing with me. Got it." Sunday walks away, stone-faced, and Aventurine is left gaping, not sure why his heart is sinking.

Aventurine doesn't talk to Sunday for a few days, until it's the last dress rehearsal. During their intermission break, Aventurine pulls Sunday aside.

"What do you want?" he asks. Aventurine is wearing stage makeup, and his eyes are so beautiful. Sunday avoids looking at them.

Aventurine sighs. "I owe you an apology." Sunday looks up in surprise. "You're right. I was prodding you to see how you'd react. That wasn't cool of me."

Sunday doesn't know what to make of this. "I forgive you," he says. He looks Aventurine in the eyes, then looks away, nerves high.

"You sure? You really don't have to. I know I was being a total jerk." Sunday is silent. Is he- nervous? Aventurine stares right into his golden eyes and dares to lean a little closer. "Though, I must admit," he says so quietly it's practically a murmur, "I was wondering if... maybe I was right?"

Sunday's heart skips a beat and he meets Aventurine's eyes. "Right about what?"

They're really close now, and their eyes are locked. Sunday feels warm. Is Aventurine getting closer? What is he doing?

"Places!"

Sunday steps back and almost crashes into a rack of costumes. He looks at Aventurine in panic, but Aventurine gives a small smirk. "Later, Sunday," he says, voice dripping with honey. Sunday tries to calm his racing heart. What just happened?

It turns out that Robin witnessed their interaction, and on the way home from rehearsal, she asks, "So, Aventurine?" Sunday's heart leaps.

"What about him?" he asks, on guard. Robin shrugs and hums innocently. They drive in silence for a couple more seconds before Sunday cracks. "I don't know what to make of him, Robin. I mean, he's certainly just using me, right?"

"He's a big flirt, that's for sure. But... I think he's like you."

"Like me?"

"He acts far more confident than he really is. Puts up a facade and never gives away his hand, so to speak."

"I see."

Robin turns to face Sunday, who glances at her momentarily before returning his eyes to the road. She says, "I think he's gentler than he lets on. He masks his feelings with grandiose gestures, but he isn't cruel. At least, that's what it seems like to me."

Sunday hums in acknowledgment. "Perhaps."

And then it's opening night, and everything is a blur, but Sunday isn't nervous about the performance so much as what he plans to do after. See, he has an ace up his sleeve this time. He's throwing caution to the wind, ignoring the voice in his head that tells him no.

From the pit, Sunday hears the show more than sees it. His sister sings beautifully, and Aventurine is a natural performer, as always. As Sunday's fingers dance along the keys, his heart is full of contentment.

The curtains close and the applause is thunderous. The house lights come on and Sunday is the first out of the pit. His heart races, and he hides his hand behind his back as he scans the crowd for--

Aventurine, on the other side of the crowd, meets his eyes. Sunday shoves through until he's next to Aventurine.

"Can I talk to you for a moment?"

Aventurine laughs. "You can try, but it's pretty loud in here."

"Then let's find a quiet place." Sunday grabs Aventurine's arm and pulls him out of the crowd.

"What's this about, Sunday?" Aventurine asks, befuddled. They reach an empty hallway, and Sunday reveals a bouquet of red roses.

His face goes pink. "These are for you. You performed beautifully, Aventurine. I wonder if..." he hesitates, then plunders on, "you would let me take you out to dinner?"

Aventurine is frozen, mouth agape, blinking slowly, and Sunday worries he's made a huge mistake. Aventurine's face has gone red, and he wordlessly extends a hand for the bouquet. He brings it to his face and smells the flowers.

"Sunday," he says, as if still in shock. He stares at the flowers in his hands, then at the boy in front of him. It feels like much more than he deserves.

"Please don't feel pressured to say yes if you're not interested," Sunday rambles, fidgeting with the hem of his coat.

Aventurine meets his eyes. "Why me?" he asks.

Sunday inhales deeply. "I... really like you, Aventurine. I'd like to get to know you better."

Aventurine can't detect any lies. He's still at a loss. He mindlessly sniffs the roses in his hands and stares at Sunday, who fidgets adorably.

"I- um. I mean, I guess-- I'd... like that," he finally replies, face heating up.

The grin on Sunday's face is blinding. "Okay," he says.

"Aventurine!"

Robin bursts through the door, fellow castmates lagging behind. "We've been looking everywhere for you! Come on, let's get pictures!" Then she notices the flowers in his hands and Sunday. She gives him a knowing smile and he grins nervously back. "Sorry to steal him," she says coyly to her brother, grabbing Aventurine's arm.

"I-- hey!"

Robin brings him back inside the theatre and Aventurine gives a shy little wave to Sunday.

Sunday feels like he could fly.

#avenday #sunturine #I spent WAY more time than I planned on this #the brainrot took over #lmk what you think!!#avenday fic #sunturine fic

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un-vaticand · 6 months ago

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“Someone please get John off of the internet. He’s learning too much”

((/OOC: All three Garys are now ask-able characters…!))

#((/OOC: I gave him a redesign!!! I didn’t really know how to dress him lol.))#asks open #faith casual au #Faith modern au #answeringthings #faith ask blog #ftut #ask blog #faith the unholy trinity #gary miller #faith gary miller #faith the game #john ward

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toxickeyboard · 1 year ago

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“I think I’ve been rotting”

Drew a scene from my AU! Meant to make an actual background but couldn’t figure out how to.

Sketch under readmore.

^ I listened to this song a lot when I was making this so now I associate it with the scene (even if the lyrics don’t fit).

Also I think I need to redesign this guy, he looks too young and I don’t think the hoodie is the best choice.

I like the pose way better in the sketch lol.

#click image for better quality by the way :]#🦌ceez’sart🐍#faith the unholy trinity #ftut #faith the game #faith gary miller #gary miller #tw rotting #(< mentioned)#faith au #casual au Faith #tw eye strain #tw eyestrain #tw bright colors #cw bright colors

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barricadescon · 6 months ago

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Barricades 2024 Final Schedule!

The time is near! Barricades 2024 is happening THIS WEEKEND, July 12-14 , all online!

We have the final schedule available on the website at barricadescon.com or right here, on this post! A more detailed schedule including descriptions is available in text under the Keep Reading break!

BarricadesCon 2024 Program

A full programming schedule of all the panels, their content, their presenters, their times, and whether they will be recorded.

All times are in UTC, and can be converted to your local time zone at this link.

Key to types of Panels:

Convention Administration panels: Panels run by the Con Committee, to open and end the convention.

Guest of Honor: Special panels from our guests of honor. This year, our guests of honor are Jean Baptiste Hugo, a descendant of Victor Hugo who will discuss his project photograph his ancestor’s house; Christina Soontornvat, the author of the award-winning Les Mis retelling “A Wish in the Dark;” and Luciano Muriel, playwright of the 2018 musical play “Grantaire.”

Fan/Academic Panel Presentations: Panels on history, fandom, or analysis of Les Mis. Scholars will share historical research, fans will share hobby projects, and the audience may get an opportunity to ask questions.

Social Meetups: Casual unstructured time to meet up over video call and chat!

Social Games: Games and activities.

Friday, June 12th

Discord Server Opens: Friday Morning UTC

Read through the rules, explore the channels, and chat with other congoers.

Welcome Session

Friday, 17:00-17:30 UTC

Session Type: Convention Administration

Presented by: Convention Committee

Recorded: No

In this session, Concom 2024 will kick off BarricadesCon 2024 and welcome everyone. Concom will also walk everyone through some basic information and FAQs to help ensure a fun and interesting con for everyone.

The Cats of Les Misérables

Friday, 17:30-18:00 UTC

Session Type: Social Meetup

Presented by: Melannen

Recorded: No

A laid-back social panel to meet your fellow attendees, share pictures of your pets (or have them join you in the panel!) and chat about pets and Les Mis fandom generally.

(Guest of Honor) From Paris to Bangkok: a Thai-inspired retelling of Les Misérables

Friday, 18:00-19:00 UTC

Session Type: Guest of Honor

Presented by: Christina Soontornvat

Recorded: Yes

Christina Soontornvat’s Newbery Honor-winning children’s novel, A Wish in the Dark, is a Les Misérables adaptation set in a magical Thai-inspired world. Christina will discuss the inspiration for the book, how she decided when to be faithful to the original, and how Hugo’s powerful themes of compassion and forgiveness resonate across age ranges and cultures.

Learn more about Christina’s work at soontornvat.com.

The Yellow Passport: Surveillance and Control in 19th Century France

Friday, 19:00- 20:00 UTC

Session Type: Fan/Academic Panel Presentation

Presented by: David Montgomery, creator of the Siecle History Podcast

Recorded: Yes

Les Misérables takes place in a France of police spies, intercepted mail, travel restrictions and other elements of a 19th Century police state. What exactly were these ways French governments surveilled and controlled their citizens? How did they work? And how did people get around them?

Meetup: Fan Creators

Friday, 19:00-20:00 UTC

Session Type: Social Meetup

Presented by: Eli

Recorded: No

Come meet fellow fan creators! Casual unstructured time to chat with other fans. A good place for people who spend a lot of time on Ao3.

Break

20:00-21:00 UTC

Early Transformative Works: The First Les Miserables Fanart, Fanfics, and AUS

Friday, 21:00-22:00 UTC

Session Type: Fan/Academic Panel Presentation

Presented by: Psalm

Recorded: Yes

This presentation will give you an overview of the earliest works inspired by Les Misérables – including illustrations, comics, poems, pamphlets, and novels. Which ones will stand the test of time? And what can these works tell us about the book’s reception and impact? Come learn about the forgotten, but fascinating first transformative works about Les Misérables.

Black and Pink International

Friday, 21:00-22:00 UTC

Session Type: Panel Presentation

Presented by: Darryl Brown Jr. (he/him), Senior Director of Programs and Advocacy, Black and Pink National. Kenna Barnes (she/they), Advocacy Manager, Black and Pink National

Recorded: Yes

This year, Barricades Con is donating all profits to Black and Pink International.

Black & Pink National is a prison abolitionist organization dedicated to abolishing the criminal punishment system and liberating LGBTQIA2S+ people and people living with HIV/AIDS who are affected by that system through advocacy, support, and organizing. Programming includes wrap-around services for those coming out of the carceral system such as but not limited to workforce development, transitional housing, newsletters to inside members and penpal matching, nationwide Chapters, youth-led research about young people living with HIV, and programming for and by people who do sex work.

Sex work as an issue sits clearly at the intersection of reproductive justice, prison abolition, and trans and queer liberation. Black trans women who engage in sex work face some of the highest rates of policing and surveillance, directly interfering with their ability to access safety and autonomy. We know that when we center the needs of Black trans women, especially those who engage in sex work, we are inherently able to address the needs of other system-impacted people along the way.

The Sex Worker Liberation Project (SWLP) is a collaboration between Black and Pink National and a network of current and former LGBTQIA2S+ people who do sex work across the country. This sex worker led group moves with the intention of building community, providing resources, and cultivating self advocacy tools.The SWLP is on a mission to tackle the urgent and multifaceted issues confronting sex workers, with a specific emphasis on the challenges faced by Black and Brown LGBTQIA2S+ sex workers.

Meetup: Brick Readers

Friday, 22:00-23:00 UTC

Session Type: Social Meetup

Presented by: Mellow

Recorded: No

Come meet up and hang out with your fellow Brick readers! Let’s talk about weird nonsense from the book.

Beat by Beat: a Les Mis 2012 Deconstruction

Friday, 22:00-23:00 UTC

Session Type: Fan/Academic Panel Presentation

Presented by: Eli

Recorded: Yes

To quote Eli: “As an avid Les Mis fan and also someone with an MFA in screenwriting, I find the script for the Les Mis 2012 movie absolutely fascinating. The choices they made, the added brick scenes, the added song, the pacing, the dialogue, the shots selection—all of it contributes to a very interesting adaptation that our fandom owes a huge debt of gratitude to (whether we like it or not 🥲). I would like to take an audience through the 9 major beats of a screenplay, apply it to Les Mis 2012, and share my thoughts on what the filmmakers did right for this adaptation and what they did wrong. I’ll compare it to the Les Mis musical (the direct source material) as well as the Brick (the secondary source material) for insight on the choices they made!”

History Researcher Meetup

Friday, 23:00-24:00 UTC

Session Type: Social Meetup

Presented by: David Montgomery

Recorded: No

A chance for history researchers to meet up and discuss their research!

Atonement: A Theatrical Piece for One Actor, Based on Segments from Hugo’s Les Miserables

Friday, 23:00-24:00 UTC

Session Type: Panel Presentation

Presented by: Alexiel de Ravenswood

Recorded: Yes

This theatrical piece is a dramatic adaptation of scenes from Book 1 of the novel, focusing on the Bishop of Digne. Following the piece, actor Alexiel de Ravenswood will engage in q&a on the creative process and the themes explored.

Saturday, June 13th

Guest of Honor: The Photography of Jean Baptiste Hugo

Saturday, 15:00-16:00 UTC

Session Type: Guest of Honor

Presented by: Jean Baptiste Hugo

Recorded: yes

Jean Baptiste Hugo is the great-great-grandson of Victor Hugo. He has extensively photographed Hugo’s home in exile on Guernsey, which Victor Hugo decorated following his own aesthetic philosophies–in particular, the journey from darkness into light, which we see reflected throughout Hugo’s literary career. M. Hugo will share his photographs and discuss Hauteville House as a physical realization of his ancestor’s ideas.

Reflecting on Directing Les Mis

Saturday, 16:00-17:00 UTC

Session Type: Fan/Academic Panel Presentation

Presented by: Cait

Recorded: yes

In Cait’s words: “I directed an amateur production of Les Mis at the end of last year, and would love to talk about how that went and share snippets from the show and behind the scenes. This will include talking about adapting Les Mis for the space and budget, approaches to certain scenes, dual casting lead roles, and probably raving about my lovely cast.”

The Fallibility of History in Les Misérables

Saturday, 16:00-17:00 UTC

Session Type: Fan/Academic Panel Presentation

Presented by: Syrup

Recorded: yes

Throughout Les Misérables, Hugo often reminds readers that what they are reading is derived from some form of documentation or hearsay. While this serves to provide credibility to the tales he is sharing, there are certain moments where Hugo opts out of describing exact details, despite his efforts at a historically-accurate record. In this panel, I will take a look at these instances where Hugo either addresses or obfuscates these events, and how by doing so, he reveals the fallibility of history, and highlights how history documentations are not always as reliable as they seem. Thesis: By crafting Les Misérables as a form of historical documentation, Hugo reveals the fallibility of history, and readers are able to understand how history and history documentation are not always as reliable as they seem.

Break

Saturday, 17:00-18:00 UTC

What Horizon: Tragedies, Time Loops, and the Hopefulness of Les Amis

Saturday, 18:00-18:30 UTC

Session Type: Fan/Academic Panel Presentation

Presented by: Percy

Recorded: yes

In Percy’s words: “I have directed a staged reading of the play and will have video clips to show! My play is focused on the rebellion and Les Amis; it aims to give the barricades the attention they often lack in adaptation and develop the individual characters of the insurgents. I’m working to make this episode of the Hugo novel and its historical context accessible to audience members who may not be familiar with the source material, while hopefully also bringing something new to the story for longtime fans.

One aspect of the story I’m particularly interested in examining is the persistent sense of hope associated with the barricades, despite the insurgents’ eventual defeat and the previous failure of the July Revolution. Linking the seemingly cyclical process of revolution and restoration, the metatheatrical tradition of tragedies aware of their own repetition in performance before the audience, and the nature of Les Misérables itself as a story that has been told and retold countless times, I hope to show the audience the worth of the insurgents’ struggle and the importance of their continued efforts. Many adaptations construe the rebellion as futile or as solely a tragic story, so I would like my adaptation to counter that idea, as Les Amis grapple with the meaning of their sacrifice and the impacts of their actions.

In a presentation, I would discuss these ideas with reference to Hugo’s original text and the ways in which the rebellion has been changed in adaptation, as well as other works that inspired me (namely Hadestown and Rosencrantz & Guildenstern Are Dead). I’d discuss the choices I made in my adaptation process and show clips from the staged reading, touching on the different characters and the historical setting as well as the overarching themes with which I engaged.”

Cosette: A Novel, The (Fanmade) Sequel to Les Misérables

Saturday, 18:30-19:00 UTC

Session Type: Fan/Academic Panel Presentation

Presented by: IMiserabili

Recorded: yes

This presentation is a deep-dive into the 1995 fanfiction “Cosette” by Laura Kalpakian. It will include a short background on the author and the publication, a summary of the plot, an analysis of represented historical events in the work, character analyses and comparisons to the source material and other Les Mis adaptations, and memorable quotes.

Musical Eponine and Grantaire in song and lyric edits: Personal research on their development

Saturday, 18:00-19:00 UTC

Session Type: Panel Presentation

Presented by: Ruth Kenyon

Recorded: yes

In Ruth’s words: “I’m an older musical Les Misérables fan who has watched the show develop from its beginnings at the Palace Theatre. I have a special interest in how the lyrics and the characters have changed over time. As plenty of people know now, I am also writing a book on the musical using these experiences. I’m working on Eponine’s chapter at the moment, and while I know fans have a lot of love for as she is now, I feel quite upset to see what happened to her as she was developed from the original French version of the musical. She seems to have lost quite a lot of emotional agency along the way. Grantaire has also changed over time; he was cut before the previews and there was a big re-write of his character when the show went to Broadway, but I really like what they have done with his character. I’ll provide examples of all this detail with material from my book and (trying) to sing bits of lyrics to explain what has happened to the characters.”

Barricades as a Tactic: How Do They Work?

Saturday, 19:00-20:00 UTC

Session Type: Fan/Academic Panel Presentation

Presented by: Lem

Recorded: No

This session will explore the tactical and strategic uses of barricades, with an eye towards what to consider when writing both canon-era fanfiction and modern AUs. After all, the strategic goals towards which the barricades were used in canon-era urban warfare were often quite different from the strategic goals of similar-looking tactics in contemporary protest movements. Core components of the session will be a map-based analysis of July 1830, a comparison with June 1832 highlighting strategic goals and considerations canon-era characters would have, and an exploration of various parallels among contemporary protest tactics (which may or may not *look* like barricades).

Meetup: Musical Fans

Saturday, 19:00-20:00 UTC

Session Type: Social Meetup

Presented by: Erin

Recorded: No

A casual place to meet up with other fans and discuss the musical!

Break

Saturday, 20:00-21:00 UTC

Why is There a Roller Coaster in Les Mis? The Strange History of the Russian Mountains

Saturday, 21:00-22:00 UTC

Session Type: Fan/Academic Panel Presentation

Presented by: Peyton Parker/Mellow

Recorded: Yes

In Les Miserables there is an actual canon scene where Fantine rides a roller coaster. How did a roller coaster end up in Paris in 1817? And why did this ride, one of the world's first wheeled Roller Coasters, make a cameo in Victor Hugo’s novel?

It’s “Les Mis Meets Defunctland.”

We’re going talk about the earliest origins of the Russian Mountains, the fascinating history behind how they came to France, their many connections to the political turmoil of the time period, what they felt like to ride, why they were shut down, how they fell into obscurity, and why Victor Hugo included them in Les Miserables. It’s time for a roller coaster digression.

Fanfic Round Robin

Saturday, 22:00-23:00 UTC

Session Type: Social Game

Presented by: Featheraly

Recorded: No

Participate in a round robin to help write a fic together!

Obscure(-ish) Les Mis Adaptations To Watch

Saturday, 23:00-23:30 UTC

Session Type: Fan/Academic Panel Presentation

Presented by: Pureanon

Recorded: Yes

Les Mis has been adapted many times over the years, and this means there’s a lot of adaptations to enjoy. Because of this, a lot of adaptations are underviewed or underappreciated. I’d like to use this panel to discuss some of my favorites/the most unique — 1925, 1948, 1967, and 1995. These are all very different, and aside from all being ones I enjoy, they’re fascinating looks at how different countries and different time periods adapt this story.

The adaptations I’ve chosen are both some of the best and some of the worst out there, but they’re all unique. 1925 is one of the most faithful adaptations out there, and it uses the medium of silent film to full effect. 1948 has Valean get shot at multiple times in the opening minutes, and the revolutionaries fight with BARRELS in the barricade. 1967 is half one of the best Anglophone Les Mis adaptations ever, and half the drunkest. 1995 is more of an adaptation of how people react to Les Mis as a story than a straightforward adaptation, and it’s one of the most beautiful and unique versions out there. I intend to show a clip from each adaptation, so people can get a little taste of what each adaptation is like.

Recovery: a Fanfic Live Read

Saturday, 22:30-23:00

Session Type: Fan/Academic Panel Presentation

Presented by: Eli, Barri

Recorded: Yes

A full cast will live read a Les Mis fanfic written specifically for the con.

Compared to Some People Grantaire is Doing Just Fine (No, Really)

Saturday: 22:00-23:00

Session Type: Fan/Academic Panel Presentation

Presented by: Ellen Fremedon, Pilferingapples

Recorded: Yes

Grantaire and Marius are the two characters on the fringes of the Friends of the ABC, connected to the group by social ties rather than sincere political belief. In this panel, Pilf and Ellen will discuss the two characters as narrative foils, touching along the way on the problem with Great Men, bourgeois inaction, what it means to have the republic as a mother, and dying for love–plus those two pistols in Marius’s pocket.

Preliminary Gaities

23:00-24:00 UTC

Session Type: Social Game

Presented by: Rare, Percy, and ShitpostingFromTheBarricade

Recorded: No

Preliminary Gayeties is the chapter where Grantaire gets drunk with Joly and Bossuet before the barricades. It is perfect for a drinking game.

In keeping with personal tradition, Rare, Percy, and ShitpostingFromTheBarricade will bring you a second year of our dramatic reading of the “Preliminary Gayeties” chapter of the brick. all while following specified drinking game rules (including classics such as “drink for brick quotes that appear commonly in fanfiction,” “pretentious classical references,” and “drink/eat when characters drink/eat”), and enjoying snacks mentioned in the chapter as they are mentioned. Everyone is invited to participate by reading, eating, and drinking along with this activity!

Sunday, June 14th

Publishing, Podcasting, and Promotion

Saturday, 15:00-16:00 UTC

Session Type: Fan/Academic Panel Presentation

Presented by: David Mongomery, Alexiel de Ravenswood, Nemo Martin

Recorded: Yes

Whether it’s fanart, Tiktok videos or deep historical analysis, lots of us have THOUGHTS about Les Mis we’d like to share with the world. This panel discussion features creators sharing their advice on how to share your work with the world in a range of mediums.

Femme/butch: Dynamics of Gender and Attraction in Les Mis

Saturday, 15:00-15:30 UTC

Session Type: Fan/Academic Panel Presentation

Presented by: Eléna

Recorded: Yes

In Eléna’s words: “This is a presentation about parallels between femme/butch dynamics and les mis! The focus is on Marius, Cosette and Eponine and their individual gender presentation and attraction. There will be a focus on the original text, but I will also talk about headcanons & representation in the fandom space! I’m a femme myself, but I’ll try to incorporate butch and transmasculine viewpoints!”

Lee’s Misérables: Jean Valjean, Confederate Hero

Saturday, 15:30-16:00 UTC

Session Type: Fan/Academic Panel Presentation

Presented by: Sarah C. Maza

Recorded: Yes

Victor Hugo’s Les Misérables (1862) was as big a success in the United States as elsewhere in the world upon publication, hailed throughout the young nation as the commanding masterpiece of modern French literature. Why would a novel that celebrates violent insurrection and radical republican ideals be so warmly received in America? One of the (many) answers to that question is that the novel appeared in the midst of the Civil War, and that it provided engrossing reading to the many soldiers stuck in place for weeks or months in camp, hospitals, and prisons. Most surprising, though, is the evidence of Les Misérables’ appeal to Confederate soldiers (who jokingly called themselves “Lee’s Misérables”), as Hugo was on record as an ardent abolitionist. My paper will illustrate and explain the paradoxical appeal of Hugo’s novel in the South in two contexts: first, I will draw attention to the ways in which Confederate nationalists likened their cause to the European Revolutions of 1848; and second, I will explain the novel’s resonance within what Wolfgang Schievelbusch has called the “culture of defeat,” the emotional resonance, in some historical contexts, of narratives of doomed causes and heroic failure.

Guest of Honor: Luciano Muriel, playwright of “Grantaire”

Sunday, 16:00-17:00 UTC

Session Type: Guest of Honor

Presented by: Luciano Muriel

Recorded: Yes

Panel about the details of the creative process behind the show Grantaire, from the discovery of the character during the playwright’s first reading of Victor Hugo’s Les Miserables to the opening night of the staging at the Teatro Pradillo of Madrid. Why Grantaire? Why a dramatic monologue? Why include Amaral songs? What did the awards and subventions entail? All the answers to these and many other questions.

Break

Sunday, 17:00-18:00 UTC

1848 in Chile: The Society of Equality and the Siege of La Serena

Sunday, 18:00-19:00 UTC

Session Type: Fan/Academc Presentation

Presented by: Duncan Riley

Recorded: Yes

While the Revolutions of 1848 are traditionally seen as a European event, they had a powerful influence in Latin America. In Chile in particular, university students who studied in France during the revolutions would lead a movement to oust the conservative dictatorship that had ruled the country since the 1830s. Inspired by the poetry of Alphonse de Lamartine and the ideals of utopian socialism, a group of Chilean intellectuals and artisans founded “The Society of Equality,” a cross-class political club dedicated to creating a democratic and participatory republic. Inspired by these ideals, in 1851 the citizens of La Serena, a mining town in northern Chile, declared their independence from the central government. Members of the Society of Equality transformed La Serena into the torchbearer of their vision of a new “democratic republic” that would restore civil liberties and grant greater autonomy to Chile’s provinces and municipalities. In defense of these principles, La Serena endured a months-long siege by government forces. The conflict inscribed itself within broader international dynamics of revolution and empire, as the British Royal Navy Intervened on the side of the government, while French immigrants built barricades to defend La Serena from invasion. Ultimately, then, La Serena and the Chilean Revolution of 1851 provide a fascinating window into the transatlantic exchanges of ideas that drove movements of democratic reform in both Europe and Latin America during the Revolutions of 1848.

The Unknown Light Examined

Sunday, 18:00-19:00 UTC

Session Type: Fan/Academic Presentation

Presented by: Madeleine

Recorded: Yes

In the tenth chapter of Les Misérables, Bishop Myriel sets out to perform the last rights of Conventionnel G, a man reviled by all of Digne for having served on the body that voted to execute the king during the French Revolution. The bishop and the dying man debate the nature of equality, divine authority, and resistance to oppression. G’s fierce defense of the French revolution and Myriel’s staunch condemnation of political violence represent diametrically opposed philosophies, but the two men have more in common than first appears. They are both men of faith, in their own way, called to serve by their profound love for humanity. Intensely shaken by this realization, the bishop kneels before the dying sinner and asks his blessing.

What does this role reversal signify? How do Myriel and G’s conceptualizations of God and morality compare, and why does Hugo seek to reconcile them? To answer these questions, this panel investigates the thematic implications of this chapter. We’ll dissect the characters’ debate, discussing the historical and religious context that informs their moral frameworks—and Hugo’s depiction of them. Drawing on analysis by literary scholars, we’ll situate Hugo’s portrayal of the bishop and the conventionnel within this same context, evaluating the extent to which G is based on the Abbé Grégoire. We’ll also examine the impact of this chapter on Bishop Myriel’s characterization and symbolic role in the novel. Lastly, we’ll explore how “The Bishop in the Presence of an Unknown Light" serves as a political and philosophical thesis for Les Misérables.

Revolutionary Rants: “Les Misérables” Onstage from an International Perspective

Sunday, 20:00-21:00 UTC

Session Type: Fan/Academic Presentation

Presented by: Tessa, Anne, Kaja, Marie, Apollon

Recorded: Yes

What started out as an open call online to gather fans from around the world to rant about the musical version of Les Mis has turned into a group of musical fans from four countries getting together to discuss our different perspectives of various international productions of the show. Topics include our favorite cast albums, how our favorite character interactions are staged in various productions we follow (including Enjoltaire), our favorite actors from the different productions, and our favorite memorable moments from the show. And we would be remiss if we didn’t mention the major impact the 2012 movie had on us as well!

Paint & Sip

Sunday, 20:00-21:00 UTC

Session Type: Social Game

Presented by: Psalm, Potatosonnet

Recorded: No

A short presentation on the artwork of Victor Hugo, his medium and subject matter, followed by crafting time inspired by Hugo’s work.

Les Mis Letters: Building a Book Club

Sunday, 21:00-22:00 UTC

Session Type: Fan/Academic presentation

Presented by: Mellow, Eccentrichat

Recorded: Yes

There are 365 chapters in Les Miserables. Les Mis Letters is an email subscription that sends you one chapter of Les Mis daily for a year.

Rachel and Mellow have been running the “Dracula-Daily” inspired Les Mis readalong since 2023! Mellow will speak to the behind the scenes process of setting up a Substack and discord server, while other readers will speak to the experience of reading Les Mis for the first time in this format or the small projects they’ve put together while following along.

Les Mis Singalong

Sunday, 21:00-22:00 UTC

Session Type: Social Game

Presented by: Megan

Recorded: No

Let’s let loose by belting out our favorite Les Mis songs together! All singing abilities welcome and encouraged, it’s virtual after all 😀 It will be musical-heavy but we’ll be sure to throw in some other fan favorites!

Closing Session

Sunday, 22:00-22:30 UTC

Session Type: Convention Administration

Presented by: Convention Committee

Recorded: No

Closing remarks by the convention committee, marking the official end of the convention.

Dead Dog

Sunday, 22:30-24:00

Session Type: Convention Administration

Presented by: Convention Committee

Recorded: No

“Dead Dog” is a fandom slang term for a laidback “afterparty” that happens when a convention has officially ended.

#mine #barricadescon #les mis #les miserables #barricades #schedule #Barricades 2024

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sambuckylibrary · 8 months ago

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All TFATWS Anniversary Event 2024 Fills

Thank you to all who participated in this event! here are all the fills you created!

Week 5: No Powers AU by @funsized-loser | SamBucky Fic Rec List | Rated: N/A-E | 13 Fics + 7 Fic Writers Generally Recced |

[podfic] I Could Never Hold Your Heart In My Hand (my darling you already do) by @funsized-loser with original fic by @abarbaricyalp | Rated: T | Length: 1.5-2 Hrs | Snow White Fusion, Fantasy AU, Curse Breaking | AO3 |

Week 5: Ghost/Zombie AU by @funsized-loser | SamBucky Fic Rec List | Rated: T-E | 7 Fics + 1 Fanart |

Week 6: Didn't Know They Were Dating/Friends With Benefits | SamBucky Fic Rec List | Rated: G-E | 10 Fics + 1 Podfic |

Untitled by @onesmolangel | Art | Hurt/Comfort, TFATWS Episode 6 "One World, One People", Hug |

You’re Just Gonna Set Me Up Like That, Huh? by @funsized-loser | Rated: T | WC: 986 | “You’re Just Gonnaa Set Me Up Like That, Huh?”, TW: Blood/Injury, Cute |

Untitled by @abarbaricyalp | Rated: N/A | WC: 511 | “Let Me Just Walk You Through a Hypothetical”, Fluff, Established Relationship |

“Fixing the Boat” by @thatmexisaurusrex | Art | Meanwhile… On the Boat, Gif, Domestic Fluff |

“Sam Finds the Note” and “Bucky Has Regrets” by @thatmexisaurusrex | Art | Divorce Arc, Angst, Thunderbolts Era |

Untitled by @abarbaricyalp | Rated: N/A | WC: 2.9K | “You’re Just Gonna Set Me Up Like That, Huh?”, POV Annalise (Darlene’s Friend), Tooth-Rotting Fluff |

Soul Stone Fic Recs by @funsized-loser | Rated: T-M | SamBucky Fic Reclist | Five Fics |

Victory Party by @funsized-loser | Rated: T | WC: 1.3K | Victory Party, Bittersweet, Let Sam Grieve His Lost Friend |

Never Hit Send, Never Called Again by @abarbaricyalp | Rated: N/A | WC: 3.2K | 6 Months of Ghosting, Post-Endgame, Texting |

Sam Gets Ghosted for Six Months / Bucky Loses His Nerve for Six Months by @thatmexisaurusrex | SamBucky Fanart | 6 Months of Ghosting, Bittersweet, Gifs |

“I don’t think he’s the kind you save.” by @thatmexisaurusrex | art | SamBucky Edit, “I don’t think he’s the kind you save”, enemies to lovers.

Sam Searches for Bucky by @funsized-loser | Rated: M | WC: 1.1K | Sleeping Together, Sam Searches For Bucky, Fluff But a Little Bittersweet |

The Kind You Save by @abarbaricyalp | Rated: N/A | WC: 1.2K | “I don’t think he’s the kind you save”, this one’s angsty y'all, “You’re the one who gets saved.” hits you like a ton of bricks |

Post-WS/Sam-Finds-Bucky fics by @abarbaricyalp | SamBucky Fic Reclist | Rated: G-E | Seven Fics |

#tfatwsanniversary2024 #sambucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes #sambucky fanfiction #sambucky edit #sambucky art #sambucky fic rec list #sambucky podfic #mod: thatmexisaurusrex

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stardustrebels · 11 days ago

Text

More of You- Chapter 1

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

WC: 1.6k

Rating: 18+ for eventual smut, MDNI

Series Masterlist | Blog Masterlist Next Chapter

Summary: After a devastating betrayal and loss, you left everything behind on the East Coast and promised yourself a fresh start in Austin, Texas. Independence as your new mantra, you vow never to let anyone too close again. Then you meet Joel Miller- a man whose warmth and Southern charm makes it hard to stick to your resolve. As your feelings deepen, you’re forced to confront your past- and question if letting someone in again is worth the risk.

A/N: No outbreak!AU. Coffee shop meet-cute with a slow-ish burn. Sickly sweet fluff with eventual smut. I wanted to write something that gave me the warm fuzzies, and I am kicking my feet and giggling while I write this. Joel Miller just deserves a good life, you know? Joel and reader have a teeny tiny age gap- Joel is 42, reader is mid 30s. Sarah is 19. No use of Y/N, minimal descriptions of reader. She has hair long enough to tie back and she wears skirts and dresses.

I didn’t really proof read this, we’re just going with the vibes. I made myself swear I would post something before Christmas.

Enjoy!

The coffee shop on the corner of Sixth and West, Harrison’s, was nothing fancy. It was a solution to the problem of your productivity, or lack thereof, over the last few weeks. What had initially been a stop-gap that you’d put in place to get out of a rut had become routine, the place you chose to begin each morning, rain or shine. The only place you could ever consider yourself a ‘regular’.

It wasn’t the trendiest, but it served good coffee, nice cakes, and had beautiful big windows that allowed you to watch the world pass by over the top of your laptop screen. It was a welcome addition to your new life in Austin, a life you’d rebuilt piece by piece. Moving here had been a leap of faith, a desperate bid to put as much distance between you and what had happened. You didn’t talk about it, hell, you hardly even allowed yourself to think about it, never letting the grief brush against the edges of your carefully crafted new world.

Austin was meant to be a fresh start. A city big enough to disappear in, but warm enough to allow you to sit close to the fringes of society and feel human again. To gain sense of belonging by osmosis. You’d thrown yourself in to the change head first- new apartment, new routines, new job, new goals. Taking one day at a time, the weight of the past feeling less and less heavy with each new dawn. You’d been here for six months now, and were finally starting to feel settled.

This morning, you had claimed your usual spot in Harrison’s- by the window - and set about trying to get your emails under control. The soft murmurs of early-morning conversation filled the room, blending with the steady hiss of the espresso machine and the occasional clinking of cups. It was the perfect atmosphere- relaxed, comfortable and conducive to helping you focus. You were typing away when a clatter of crockery made you glance up over the rim of your cup as you took a sip of coffee. It was then that you caught sight of him- a man seated a few tables away, bathed in the soft glow of late summer sunlight streaming in through the windows. You took a breath and placed your coffee cup back down, eyes flicking quickly between him and your screen in a way that was anything but subtle.

His broad shoulders filled out the green flannel shirt he wore, the fabric stretched just enough to hint at the strength underneath. The sleeves rolled up to reveal firm forearms, leaning casually against the table while he was engrossed in the book resting between his large hands, his fingers his fingers absently toying with the edge of a page. The sunlight caught the specks of grey peppered through his dark, tousled hair and short beard in a way that felt almost deliberate, like nature itself had conspired to pick him out of the crowd and highlight him to you.

As if he sensed eyes on him, he glanced up. The moment his dark eyes met yours, your stomach flipped and you froze. For a brief second, it felt like the world slowed down. Then, almost imperceptibly, he smiled at you. A small, lopsided curve of his lips, confident, maybe a little arrogant, that sent a heat creeping up your spine. Your lips quirked up before you could stop them.

The heat reached the back of your neck and you quickly looked back down at your laptop. You tried to ignore the thrumming excitement making your fingers tingle, and stared hard at the screen and pretended to be engrossed in your work.

You could feel the weight of his presence now that you’d noticed him even without looking. It wasn’t that he was doing anything- just sitting quietly, reading a book and drinking coffee, but you felt like the air in the room had just shifted, like you were trying to take a breath through a sudden gust of wind that had hit you square in the face. You looked around, but everything else in the coffee shop was how it had been before; no one else even spared you a glance. You took another sip of coffee and hoped that it looked casual.

Your fingers hovered above the keyboard, though the words you’d been writing just moments before had evaporated from your mind, and you urged your eyes to stay fixed on your screen, but the temptation was too great and you stole another quick glance over the rim of your coffee cup. Your pulse skittered when he leaned back slightly in his chair, moving through the sun beam that was on him, causing it to accentuate the contours of his face.

His profile was striking- the strong line of his jaw was softened by the neat scruff that framed his face, an aquiline nose that led down to full lips set in a tiny pout as he read. The soft sunlight highlighted the creases at the corners of his eyes, and the lines of his furrowed brow that had settled there with age. They weren’t harsh; from what you could make out each one seemed earnest, a testament to a life lived fully. There was something deeply endearing about them.

Your gaze darted away again before he could catch you staring, heat pulsing over the back of your neck and up to your cheeks. Focus, you scolded yourself. You had work to do. Deadlines to meet.

You found yourself curious to know what he was reading, what kind of coffee he drank, what his voice sounded like. You considered the possibility of introducing yourself to him- approaching his table and flashing him a smile as you asked about his book. The thought filled you with equal parts giddiness and horror.

You adjusted in your chair, the movement causing the legs to scrape along the floor, and glanced over at him again despite yourself. This time, he had been looking at you, his head tilted slightly like he was aware of your attention but wasn’t sure what to make of it. His lips twitched in to another small smile and your stomach did a somersault.

The sound of the barista calling out an order snapped you back to reality. You blinked, glancing back down at the dregs in your coffee cup and sighed as you considered the half-finished email on your screen. By the time you looked up again, the handsome stranger had pulled on his jacket and was getting ready to leave. You watched with interest as he checked his watch for the time instead of his phone. When he stood, he adjusted the fit of his leather jacket, shrugging it across his broad shoulders before he returned his coffee cup to the counter. He patted his jacket pockets checking for his keys and wallet and made his way to the door, hesitating for a second, as if he’d forgotten something, before disappearing out on to the street.

You exhaled slowly. You’d been holding your breath without meaning to while watching him. You chastised yourself silently. Stop it. Stop being ridiculous.

You glanced toward the door, half-hoping that he might have truly forgotten something, but it remained firmly shut, the activity of the coffee shop continuing uninterrupted. You squared your shoulders and refocused on the work in front of you.

Your work as a newly freelance graphic designer had its perks: flexible hours, creative freedom, and the ability to work from anywhere. But it also meant self- discipline, something you’d struggled with lately. Once you hit send on the email, you opened your project dashboard; a local bakery had hired you to revamp their branding. You’d sketched a few ideas the day before, and it was time to digitise them.

You spent the next few hours, and the next four cups of coffee, on the draft of the logo and by lunchtime, the shop had shifted from its relaxed morning hum to a more distracting bustle. You gathered your things and decided to take a walk before heading home.

The leaves on the trees lining the sidewalks were still green, stubbornly clinging to summer despite the calendars insistence on autumn. You took your time strolling through the streets, reminded of the easy charm that had drawn you to Austin in the first place. You decided to do some quick errands and took a long detour back to your apartment, choosing to wander and browse the window displays of independent shops you passed along the way. You stopped in a sunbeam streaming through a gap in the buildings opposite you and were reminded of the handsome stranger in the coffee shop.

The memory of the warmth in his eyes as he smiled at you sent a little shiver down your spine. You allowed yourself to consider him for a moment, standing there with the sun on your face. You knew there was no harm in it. You’d promised yourself- sworn up and down, really- that you would focus on yourself. No distractions, no romantic entanglements, no chance of getting hurt again. After everything that happened, you couldn’t afford to let your heart lead you in to another minefield. Thinking about the handsome stranger was silly, you told yourself as you turned the corner toward home, the sun casting long shadows across the sidewalk. You made a point not to think about him as you hurried through the front door of your building, and as you stepped in to your apartment and set your bag down, you tried to dampen the tiny stab of disappointment that you might never see him again.

#Joel Miller #Joel Miller fanfic #Joel Miller x f!reader #Joel Miller x fem!reader #fluff #fanfic fluff #TLOU #TLOU No Outbreak!Au #No Outbreak au #The Last of Us #TLOU HBO #soft!joel miller

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steviebbboi · 3 months ago

Note

Napoleon solo cream pie professor trope please thanks

Hello again nonnie! Hope you enjoy the second drabble for our lovely Napoleon <3 Thank you again for participating in my 200 Follower Writing Challenge it means the world! Now, on to the show 'class'!

Pairing: FakeProfessor!Napoleon Solo x Student!Reader

W/C: 1.9k

Prompt(s): Professor AU, creampie

*Napoleon is undercover! Peep the alias name 👀

*also included/TW: MINORS DNI; THIS IS 18+, p in v sex, assumed foreplay, forbidden aspect to relationship, inappropriate relationship between professor/student, reader is in her early 20's, napoleon is undercover/fake identity.

This took a different, and more romantic, turn than I thought that it would lol. Some intense/serious fluff goin' on btwn these two, and tbh, I'm kinda here for it.

One Foot Forward

A muted voice could be heard as you crept closer to Professor Walker’s office. You frowned as the voice became louder in tone, it sounded like he was scolding someone.

“Listen, Peril. It’s not long now that I’ll have what we came for. I’d appreciate a little faith if you could find that in you somewhere in that body of yours.”

“Peril? Who could that be?” You thought with a frown. You couldn’t hear the response of the person on the other line but you figured they must be a real heap for the professor to respond in such a way.

Instantly feeling guilty, you straightened up and knocked on the door twice and called out, “Professor Walker? Are you busy?”

You heard him hastily rush a goodbye and heard a casual “come in.” Hearing the permission, you entered the room and immediately flushed at the first sight of him sitting at his desk.

Professor August Walker. He’s a real looker for a college professor. When you decided to take Linguistics 101, you definitely didn’t expect for the Professor to be such a distraction. Once news got around campus about the new hot professor who spoke different tongues of what appeals to a woman’s heart, it seemed like only female students came to take the course.

You really tried to not embarrass yourself like the other girls were (you could hear half of them giggle and swoon in every class), but he was just so handsome. A strong chin defined his angular face, his features cunningly charming enough where a small smirk looked like his natural resting expression. The man didn’t have a fleck nor did he have a blemish on his smooth and cut jawline. A true tall, dark and handsome kinda guy.

You never questioned his teaching methods, nor did you question his style (even if he would wink at some of the swooning girls or when he would be naturally flirty with some of them if they asked a question). Was it inappropriate? Absolutely. But instead of feeling indignant about it actually happening, you were more upset with the fact that he gave you a D- on the last quiz.

You were just slightly bitter that his attention was on the other students. They were throwing themselves onto him, sure, but you? You never dared to cross that line, even if he went there first (whether it was a wink or a cunning smile that would make the other girls become frantic). Every flirty attempt, you flushed and brushed it off because you were trying to be a good student.

You were majoring in linguistics to travel abroad and took him, and his class seriously – overlooked all of these immature discrepancies. So, here you were, actually trying, and he gave you a D-?!

That’s why you decided to go to his office hours to seriously ask him what he was thinking with this grade. Looking the test over, you could see that the answers that were marked incorrectly were actually right. Unsure of his intentions surrounding the marking of his grades, you decided to find out exactly what his problem was.

You explained your plight to the professor now as you sat across his desk. You tried to gauge the facial expressions that he was giving you, an eyebrow quirk here, a twitch of a smirk there. Confusion bloomed as a headache as you watched his reactive ‘non-reactions’.

After he lets out a lasting hum of what sounded like curiosity, you couldn’t hold back your scoff.

Now, that, he had an actual reaction towards.

“Is there another problem, Miss…?” Professor Walker pondered with his perfectly plucked eyebrow raised again.

A pause filled the space for a brief moment as you realized that he forgot your name. You exclaimed your name at him with wide eyes filled with an outraged disbelief. You couldn’t hold back the following words, “What kind of a professor are you?! First, you marked my correct answers wrongfully. Second, you forget one of your students’ names! I understand that you may be taken aback that you have a student who finally doesn’t swoon over your every breath, but that doesn’t mean that you get to treat me this unfairly!”

You sat back in your chair in a huff as you tried to desperately catch your breath. His silence was palpable as he just sat there with his hands crossed on the desk. As the wind in your breath came back to you, you felt yourself flush again but this time, in embarrassment and shame.

You just yelled at your professor– you definitely were going to fail the class now.

Your eyes gravitated towards the cracked tile on the floor as you panicked on what to say, how to apologize for your outburst. But then he said your name so softly that it made you raise your head with regret.

“You’re right. I did mark your answers incorrectly and I do notice that you don’t swoon over me like the other students in class. I have treated you unfairly, and I’m sorry.” He said, his tone casually filled with a mystery of elusiveness despite the explicitness of his words.

“But I didn’t, in fact, forget your name.”

You squinted over at him suspiciously, any traces of shame or guilt gone from your chest. “Then, what happened just now?”

He cleared his throat as he looked down at his paper covered wooden desk before getting up from his desk chair to straighten his pristine and pressed suit. His veiny hands, that looked uncharacteristically calloused for a professor, were tucked into his trousers in a way that made him look even more charmingly intimidating. He leaned on the desk in front of you now, the proximity of his position allowed you to inhale the intoxicating scent of his cologne.

“I attempted to cover up my ridiculous cover since I know that I’d never be able to see you again after this.” He responded derisively, almost to himself.

Your brows furrowed in confusion as you tried to dissect the meaning behind his words, only coming up empty handed. Your breath stilted suddenly and the confusion melted into a shy desire as he reached out to tuck a wayward hair behind your ear.

“Tried to make it seem like I didn’t know you, to tempt me less,” he continued as he caressed your cheek. He abruptly chuckled, “but you scolding me, losing your temper, that lovely flush on that radiant complexion drives me crazy.”

His gaze and touch titled down your neck sensually. In an unconscious daze just at his touch, your head moved with his touch to give him access to your supple and exposed skin. It was only a hint of skin showing between the strap of your dress and your cardigan, but as he stroked it, it felt so forbidden and daring.

Before you realized, his face was leaning into yours. Any thoughts about what was happening completely escaped you as his lips touched yours. All you could think was that his lips were so soft. You whimpered into his mouth as his tongue expertly caressed yours languidly.

Next thing you knew, he was carrying you over to the loveseat by the window and you were moaning on top of him with him already inside you. His lips were kissing and sucking along the same spots that his fingers innocently traced earlier in a manner that was far from innocent, but still so devoting.

Napoleon Solo was a doting lover. Your pleasure was his pleasure. Usually, he’d take his time. But with you, he was more feral. Greedy. Because he knew that if he couldn’t have you, then he’d ruin you.

Your moans started to echo in the small office space as he started grinding into you as you bounced on his cock, which prompted Napoleon to brush a rough hand over your swollen lips to reluctantly muffle your sounds of pleasure.

“Shhh, be good for me, my little secret.” He muttered into your ear with his own strained groans escaping his lips. His eyes rolled back as he allowed you to grind down on him even deeper as he relaxed his body on the back of the couch. Taking control was his usual forte, naturally. Even sometimes, a role. But with you, in this moment, he didn’t have to be.

He would allow himself this one luxury of authenticity as everything else in his life was a well-told lie.

“Professor, please.” You whined against his palm and licked it in wanton desperation. You clenched tighter around his girthy cock and he grunted into your neck as the sensation.

“Fuck, gripping me so tight. You’re my good little student, aren’t you?” He moaned against your ear once more as he nipped at your earlobe seductively. The hand that wasn’t groping at your curvaceous hips stroked along your skin and in between your tightly-pressed bodies to circle your swollen clit.

“Yes, I’ll be a good student for you, Professor! Please let me cum, please!” You gasped into his mouth as he pulled you in for another forbidden kiss. He started to thrust into you wildly at hearing the eagerness in your voice, his caresses on your bundle of nerves rubbing faster.

You cried out your ecstasy as you felt that knot in your tummy unravel so deliciously. The combination of his grunts in your ear, your clit being stimulated as he drove his fat cock into your wet pussy was just too much to comprehend at once. You couldn’t believe a man as beautiful as he would even want you, would desire you. The way that you were the one to unravel him beyond what others perceived. It was the danger of getting caught that finally drove you to the edge.

Cumming around his cock that was still driving into you deep and slow, your whole body intensely shook as your orgasm seemed to last long enough for Napoleon to loudly groan out his own release against your open lips.

The feeling of your Professor’s cock throbbing out his spend inside of you felt oddly filling, you bit your lip at the pleasure-filled sensation. Napoleon felt your pussy clench around him one more time and he captured your bottom lip into his own nip as he licked into your panting mouth. The taste of you was too intoxicating, and he wanted this moment to last.

You left his office with a kiss filled with longing and a promise to see him at the next class. But he didn’t show up for the next class. He was out sick, the office reported. You waited anxiously, no other way to contact him. By the following week though, they replaced him with a new professor.

You had no idea that that would be the last of your romance with the spy. Never found out the reasons behind his words or his sudden departure. You ended up graduating with your degree and traveling the world.

The spy never forgot about you though as he fulfilled his mission. Never forgot how captivated he was by you. He glanced over his newspaper at you as you sat at the little cafe overlooking the Seine. Seeing you so confident and flitting about Paris filled him with an unconscious delight.

The passion filled experience in his fake office shined over his mind once more as he placed one foot forward towards you.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed reading this weird-subtle angst Napoleon. I know his character in the movie is depicted to be quite mischievous and daring, but I thought it would be a cool spin to the inner conflicts that a spy would probs feel under the mask.

Tag(s) List: @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @mercurial-chuckles @caplanbuckybarnes

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