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justalildumpling · 9 months ago

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the aftermath (of champagne & tequila)

synopsis: so maybe those few glasses of champagne and tequila wasn’t your smartest choice of beverages at your high school reunion. but how were you supposed to know that running into your childhood crushes absolutely wasted would have you dealing with the aftermath of making out with not one, but both within the same hour?

pairing: haechan x fem! reader & mark x fem! reader genre: love triangle, childhood crushes au, college au, fluff, humor word count: 7.4k warnings: swearing, making out, mentions of alcohol, vaping, weed, jokes about death and just a 'hol lot of y/n being a dumb drunk

note: there’s really no plot to this, just pure thirst and chaos but then again, isn’t that all my fics ever🙃 (and god forbid any of my irls see this bc they'll know exactly who everyone is based off of💀)

[ playlist: all my friends - snakehips / feels - calvin harris / pretty please - dua lip / one kiss - dua lipa / leave the door open - bruno mars / nasty - ariana grande / streets - doja cat ]

IN YOUR DEFENCE, you weren’t planning on getting this drunk.

In fact, you remembered reassuring your group of friends about this the day before, emphasising your astounding hatred towards the very limited selection of the free alcoholic beverages available at the bar (namely, beer and wine).

Further backing up your case, you had initially turned up to your high school reunion an hour late with the lazy excuse of your last-minute decisions towards your outfit that day – which, considering your turbulent meltdowns about having no clothes at two in the morning, was a complete fucking lie – only covering up your actual reasonings of not wanting to face your high school year group.

You didn’t exactly have any particular reasons to avoid anyone – a matter of fact, you liked to think you got along with everyone back in the day, often bouncing around from friend group to friend group with shiny eyes, inviting smiles and friendly banter – but there was something about reuniting your cohort again after a year which felt awkward.

There was no doubt that everyone would have changed in some way shape or form.

Heck, you were a completely different person from when they last saw you in the body of that wide-eyed girl in the crisp white blouse with the conservative knee-length pleated skirt. Plus, judging by the daily scroll of your Instagram feed, many of your peers seemed to don an altered version of their high school selves as well – meaning you had to get to know everyone all over again.

You vaguely remember turning up at the congested bar next to your high school building. The entrance was decorated with popped bottles of champagne with only a few clean empty glasses left on the display tray. The rest are in the hands of the various levels of tipsy college kids packed together like a can of sardines in front of the bar, eagerly milking out the bar tab set by the committee. Despite your school renting out the entirety of the second floor, it felt a little too tight, almost claustrophobic inside as you discreetly tried to scan the drunken crowd for your usual group of friends. However, your search didn’t last long, resulting in you eventually giving up after a few seconds, opting to ease the mild squeamishness with some liquid courage.

The cheap champagne burned the back of your throat as you settled on painfully chugging the glass in mere seconds, sticking out your tongue in disgust. Regardless of your initial reaction to the first taste, you began lining up for another glass, maybe in hopes of finding your intoxicated friends swimming in the chaos.

“Oh my god, Y/N! Is that you?”

Your ears perked at the familial voice amid of the loud chatter, head whipping towards the warm beam of Huang Renjun – a longtime locker mate/bandmate during school. Crushing you into a tight hug, you momentarily thanked the higher power of the universe for sending at least an old buddy as your first very sober interaction.

Though you and Renjun had never exclusively shared the same social circle, your friendship went way back. It started from being in the school’s so-called “rock” band together to trauma bonding over some unfortunate extension English classes in middle school to being neighbouring lockers for the entirety of high school. You recalled Renjun being a wholesome-looking guy, uniform always neatly tucked in, hair short and well kept, so when you spotted his long bleached hair and a silver ring hanging off the left corner of his lip as you pulled away from his grasp, surprise was an understatement of your reaction.

“You pierced your lip!” you exclaimed, turning your face to various angles around him to have a closer look.

A hearty laugh escaped his lips, throwing his head back as he playfully modelled his new accessory with a childish smile, “I did! Though I would be lying if I said I got this voluntarily.”

You cocked your head at him as the two of you received your preferred beverage from the bar counter, gesturing for him to elaborate. Renjun paused, sipping on the overflowing bubbles of his beer before adding, “I lost a bet with Donghyuck.”

Lee Donghyuck, a name you would say you were well acquainted with. He was a popular figure with the female community of your school for his visuals and many other talents, an eye-catching part of Renjun’s circle and your childhood friend. Well, sort of.

The two of you met in second grade, the joyful period of a child’s life where everyone was automatically considered friends if you shared a class or your mothers exchanged more than two sentences and invited you to their birthday parties. Also meant, playing with the designated child of your mother’s chosen friend of the day until their hour-long conversation was over.

Considering the sheer amount of afternoons spent with Donghyuck throughout your elementary school days running around with his family puppy on the school grounds, you would think that would automatically deem the approval of the “childhood friend” title. But the two of you didn’t really talk outside of your forced interaction nor did you share the same lunchtime activities much to your pathetic heart’s dismay.

It would be a lie if you said you weren’t charmed by the warm scruffiness of the little boy, oftentimes guilty of shamelessly boring holes into the back of his head during class and daydreaming about your futures together instead of listening to your homeroom teacher. You had a feeling your mum knew of your little infatuation towards the boy, often sending you a knowing gaze after your weekly runarounds with him and after the mention of his name in conversation prompting you to believe that her coincidental run-ins with Donghyuck’s mother weren’t so accidental afterall.

Though growing out of your shorts and summer tunic dresses and into your somewhat maturer age of a teenager; the validation of the excuse of your mother’s budding friendship to catch him after school expired alongside the dissipating giddiness you had once held for him. Something you saw coming for a while as you found yourself seeing less of him around which came as no surprise as neither of you shared the same class nor the same friends as you naturally started gravitating to different parts of your enlarging year group.

Finishing off the remainder of your flat champagne, you raised your eyebrows at the boy, “Donghyuck? Haven’t heard that name in a while, how is he?”

Renjun hummed, fingers drumming on the sides of his beer glass, “Why don’t you ask him? He’s here today,” he began standing on the tips of his battered converses, peering around the bar for the boy in question.

You shook your head with a chuckle, “Don’t worry about it. It’s going to be impossible to find him-”

On queue, Renjun hollered Donghyuck’s name at the back corner of the room, waving at a shadowed figure exaggeratedly. You weren’t even sure how he was able to spot him within the chaos so quickly when you were still left in search of your friends. But that wasn’t your biggest problem anymore as you recognised Donghyuck emerging from within the darkness, jokingly shoving past the large group of huddled and what you assumed to be intoxicated boys.

He didn’t look too different from the last time you met, maybe a few centimetres taller, skin sun-kissed from the recent summer weather but holy shit, was he still as hot as ever. If not more.

“Damn Y/N, is that you?”

You were too sober for this. Sure, you had started to feel the buzz peppering various parts of your face; but your emotions, the logical voice in your brain remained intact, with it blaring “DON’T FUCK UP!” in bold capital letters the closer he got.

Shoving your jitters further down your lame excuse of a brain, a playful smile was forced upon your lips, “The one and only.”

Donghyuck grinned, lightly pulling you into a welcoming embrace, catching you off guard, “It’s good to see you again.”

You could tell the alcohol had already hit his systems judging by the uncharacteristically physical greeting and eyes lazily half-lidded as he pulled away from your grasp. “Looks like someone’s had a bit to drink tonight?” you teased, eyeing the lingering closeness between the two of you.

Donghyuck chuckled, softly shaking his head, “I haven’t had too much, maybe a couple of glasses of champagne at school and a few beers here. What about you?”

“Only two glasses of whatever they’re serving at the bar,” you shuddered at the thought, placing your empty glasses down on the side of the countertop.

��So what I’m hearing is that you haven’t had enough yet,” Donghyuck sent a cheeky wink your way, completely forgetting about poor Renjun’s presence in the conversation as he lightly tugged at your sleeves back in front of the bar, ordering your preferred drinks with the bartender. Clinking your topped-up glasses with the boy, you wondered if making conversations with the boy was this easy before. It wasn’t like he was antisocial or judgemental during your high school years, maybe a little arrogant at times which initially caused your group of friends to have a slight dislike towards the boy.

“Y/N no,” you remembered your best friend Ningning immediately shutting down your thoughts followed by the excessive nods of your friends.

The five of you sat on the floor in front of your lockers, the smell of the freshly made fries Minjeong had bought from the deli next door wafting down the corridor as you had your heated discussion for the day. How you ended up on the topic of your resurfacing feelings for Lee Donghyuck was a whole other question of its own. (Ah, you remembered. Minjeong tripped down the stairs as you and Donghyuck exchanged smiles and pleasantries, whilst she panicked about her one fry which flew out of the cardboard box, all you could think about was him)

Ningning scrunched her eyes, lips formed into a sour expression, “He’s just so…”

“Egotistical?” Shuhua offered.

“Short?” Yunjin added, throwing a handful of fries in her mouth.

“Both,” Ningning affirmed. She patted your lap, a thin smile drawn on her face, “You’re too good for him Y/N.”

It was safe to say that the droplet of leaking feelings had shrivelled back up into your heart that day, both due to your friend’s confronting opinions towards the boy and the unapproachable aura he exuded. (Ok, maybe you admired his golden face from across the room from time to time but who could blame you? It wasn’t your fault his stupidly good looks started appearing at every extracurricular activity you signed up for that term)

A full glass’ worth of conversation passed at this point, and the both of you head deep into your storytelling of your crazy nights out. Bursts of booming laughter thundered as he described canon bombing into his university’s questionable lake and audible gasps sounded as you described your New Year's celebrations earlier that year. Maybe you were wrong about your skepticisms towards the boy during your schooling years, blaming your tendency to catastrophize any minor inconvenience to blow his inherent “unattainableness” out of proportion.

Pulling your phone out of your handbag to check the time, you were greeted with several missed calls and spammed messages from your friends, slapping you back to your original goal in mind.

“Everything alright?” Donghyuck’s face appeared beside your phone screen, eyes concentrated on your sudden change of expression.

“Uh-” you began typing your response to your group chat, reassuring them of your whereabouts in the heavily packed venue, ”-yeah. Yeah, sorry,” you clicked your phone shut, stuffing it back into your purse before facing him again, “Just reassuring a panicked group chat.”

He laughed, dipping his head in understanding, “I’m guessing I’ll have to let you go?”

You shrugged, offering him a small pout, “Unfortunately but hey, take a shot with me later?”

A soft smile littered Donghyuck’s face, hands squeezing the tops of your shoulders.

“Bet, I’ll come find you.”

NOTE TO SELF: Don’t go into the female restrooms during a big event in a relatively logical state of mind.

The girls' restrooms were a lively place for the residents of your school, always scented with the popular fumes of grape ice and strawberry watermelon vape, the tile floors littered with abandoned pairs of laddered stockings in the winter and forgotten multicoloured hydro-flasks perched on the benches. With quite the vaping addiction of your school, it was always a fun game of guess who when you took the trip to the restrooms during class, which clique was occupying the stalls together, which flavour they were attempting that day or what piece of drama you were going to be handed.

You realised that not much had changed when you found your friends huddling with quite the assortment of other girls in your year group in the bar restroom. The air was concocted with the nostalgic smell of blue raspberry vape and Maison Margiela, accompanied by loud loving gossip in the unoccupied stalls and the occasional drunken mirror selfies in front of the basin.

“Oh my gosh Y/N! You’re alive!” Ningning screeched, glomping you into a tight hug, “I was about to get up on the tables to find you out there.”

“Sorry, I missed your calls,” you wheezed as Minjeong came over to peel the girl off of your body, “I didn’t realise my phone was on silent.”

“Don’t even worry about it,” Shuhua slurred attaching herself to Minjeong’s side, “You must’ve been bouncing around like you usually do, judging by how long it took you to find us.”

“Yeah,” – if bouncing around meant from one drink to another with the same person – “You could say that.”

“Yunjin said hi by the way,” Minjeong interrupted, pulling up a photo of your absent friend striking a cute pose in front of a sushi train in Hawaii, “She said to drink on her behalf, which I don’t think is the best idea.”

“That girl’s probably drunk right now,” Ningning snickered, turning to face the large mirror to reapply her lip gloss, “But I’ll take any excuse to drink more.”

Minjeong raised an eyebrow at the girl, “Didn’t you say that you were saving your liver for next weekend?”

Ningning merely shrugged, waving her off before grabbing ahold of your hand with an animated wiggle, squabbling about something along the lines of you looking too sober. You ran into many old faces on the short journey to the bar front, hearty laughter and juicy gossip unconsciously spilled and overheard from the neighbouring conversations (Though whether it was true or not, you weren’t sure, but considering the topics of accidental pregnancies and very messy breakups – maybe it would be best to wish for the latter)

You were on your fourth glass of champagne at this point, something you couldn’t understand as every sip you took attempted to change your mind; it really just tasted the same – like fucking ass. The state of yourself on the other hand arguably has made some progress, to your best friend’s delight. You had joined in on Ningning’s nonsensical babbling a half glass ago, nodding along to whatever came out of her mouth with a small giggle tickling up your throat. She leaned into your ear, slurring some muddled sentence that was drowned out by the screaming lyrics of ABBA. A nod came as a reflex for you, a dazed smile tugging at your lips.

She gave you a little squeeze on your shoulders, shuffling past a sea of people and to the other end of the room. The world seemed to move faster than what your brain could handle at that given moment, only registering the disappearance of your friend as well as the foreign group of kids gathered around you a few minutes later.

There you were, at square one once again, like a clueless fish stuck between the school of other wandering creatures. Except, replace the ocean with flat champagne and cheap house beer.

With an exasperated sigh, you took a step back from the chattering circle, but what you thought was an empty space was in fact a person. A person with a full glass of beer – well, half full after you knocked into it.

“Shit- Fuck- I’m so sorry, is your drink o…kay?” Your words trailed off as you came face to face with your ex-best friend Mark Lee.

Ah yes. Mark Lee and Y/N L/N, quite the known duo during your middle school days. Inseparable, protective and unanimously voted as most probably secretly dating or housing feelings for each other – which to be fair, wasn’t exactly false.

Your rather complicated feelings for the boy began in fifth grade when the boy slipped you a silly doodle of a duck in a top hat during math class. The two of you were seated a table apart from each other with your respective seatmates so you weren’t too sure of why he specifically chose you to gift his work of art but regardless, you giggled, pencilling in the words “Taffy the Duck” on the top of the page to pass back to him. Your little note passings continued throughout the rest of elementary school, leading to middle school where in your despair realised that you shared zero classes with the boy. Despite this, your friendship stood as strong as ever, hanging out during lunchtimes and visiting the local 7/11 after school until well – it wasn’t.

There was no pivotal moment when you stopped being as close as you were; in fact, it was a question that remained frustratingly unanswered throughout the years. It wasn’t like the two of you ever argued or had a major fallout – which could’ve given you a proper reason to either make up or talk to him again – but rather be described as a painstakingly slow drift, enough to the point where it was unnoticeable. Maybe it started with the branching of different friend groups then led to your attention on your respective crushes at the time – which now that you recollected on your past, think that your hidden feelings for each other at the time were the only thing holding you together.

Sure, you had attempted to revive your friendship at times, starting with the ever-so-awkward first hellos in the stairwell to a couple of sentences exchanged before classes started in your final year, but all efforts seem to have unravelled as you graduated from school and went on your separate ways, until today.

“Oh hey, Y/N?”

You handed him a napkin from the bar, “Mark.”

Shaking the excess residue off of his hand, he mumbled a quiet thanks as he took the napkin from you. You wanted to die, really. As a matter of fact, you were convinced that it would be a much more pleasant experience than silently standing like some dumb wooden doll in front of your ex-best friend, as he cleaned up after your mess.

“So,” he cleared his throat, “It’s been a while huh?”

You gulped down the last sip of your drink, feeling the burn of the champagne trickling down your oesophagus, “Yeah, I mean the last time we talked was, one and half years ago?” – Technically, it was his birthday a little less than a year ago when the two of you last exchanged messages. It entailed your short greeting of “happy b’day mark!” and the equally blunt response of “haha thanks y/n”. However according to the Cambridge dictionary, a conversation is defined as a discussion about a particular subject and well, nothing was discussed.

“Well, how have you been? Your brother doing well?” Mark passed his fingers through his dark locks, turning his full attention to you.

You were surprised he remembered your brother, with him starting school not long before you guys stopped being friends, “He’s doing well, grown up a lot since you last saw him,” you snorted, remembering his little presence trailing behind the two of you after school, begging for you to buy him Mcdonald's fries, “How about you? You attend NCIT right?”

“Yep, studying Business,” he rolled his eyes, “Quite the regretful choice. How about you?”

“Communications at Yonsei,” you responded, “Though, I did originally transfer from Business, due to as you said. Quite the experience.”

Mark chuckled knowingly, raising his glass to take a sip of his remaining drink, “It suits you. Communications that is.”

“What? Because I’m loud?” you joked.

He shook his head, “You always had great ideas, people always looked to you for advice.”

A warm smile made its way onto your face. It was a reassuring phrase to hear, short but impactful nonetheless. Especially as you struggled to figure out your path after school, switching from one faculty to another in hopes of finding the one that didn’t make you want to throw yourself off a cliff side. Communications was a spontaneous jump but it was the only choice that made you confident in your abilities so hearing this sort of external validation felt nice, especially from him.

Mark returned the gesture, eyes crinkling into the tender crescent shape. Despite the maturing of his facial structure, he still housed the same childlike smile. The one which stretched to the outskirts of his cheeks, softening his overall cold exterior. The one that made you fall for him in the first place.

“How come I didn’t catch you at school earlier?”

You blinked, snapping out of your thoughts, “O-Oh, I turned up pretty late so I missed out on the terrace drinks.”

“That makes more sense,” Mark hummed in affirmation, eyeing you up and down, “I feel like I definitely would’ve noticed you if you were there.”

What.

“Tequila shot?” he offered.

You bat an eye, “Uh, sure.”

YOU SEE, you were an affectionate drunk – most often seen clinging onto your friends’ bodies for dear life or littering kisses on their cheeks towards the peak of your night outs. You concluded your drastic personality change was due to the massive confidence boost and the silencing of the practical parts of your brain, meaning that your already concerning amount of extrovertedness maxed the scale.

Before that evening, this quirky little trait of yours never caused you harm, only resulting in the multitude of ‘friends’ being made in the club’s restroom line or several new followers on Instagram the morning after – half of which you barely remember the existence of.

It was barely eleven when Donghyuck snatched you away from your friends, keeping what you thought to be an empty promise of taking a shot with you. Although you were the one originally suggesting your actions, you won’t lie that you held low expectations for him to follow through – most definitely considering his current state of mind.

Clinking your shot glasses together, you downed the liquor in mere seconds, followed by the soothing taste of the lime, melting away the burn that chased up your throat. An electrified laugh sounded from your left as the familial chords of Bruno Mars blasted through the speakers. Donghyuck held no hesitation to grab your hands, dragging you to the front of the speakers as he playfully serenaded you throughout the way.

You could only shyly giggle as he twirled you around the circling crowd, blatantly avoiding his grand gestures for you to sing along. But your resistance didn’t last long as the chorus hit, finding yourself swaying to the beat of the music, accepting the enclosing distance between your bodies. You peered up to meet his eyes, still filled with the childlike wonder and life from the early days of your friendship to the sharp slope of his nose to his scattered moles down to his supple lips.

“You know Hyuck, you’re really hot.”

A satisfied grin laced Donghyuck’s lips, “Am I now?”

“Can I kiss you?”

You weren’t exactly sure what initially prompted you to blurt your relatively forward words to the unsuspecting boy. Maybe it was the lingering fresh taste of the lime on your tongue. Maybe it was the way he swiped his tongue against his bottom lip to soak up any last droplets of the liquor or simply because you just wanted to. Either way, what you didn’t expect was for a smirk to tug against Donghyuck’s lips, stepping closer to your body, eyes flickering to your lips as a finger grazed the underside of your chin. He momentarily wavered a couple centimetres away from your lips, warm breath fanning against your face before his lips met yours.

The once horridly ear-deafening music of the room with the bubbling chatters of your cohort seemed to fade into the background as the ghost of Donghyuck’s hands skimmed the bare parts of your waist. His tousled curls tickled the sides of your cheeks as he nipped at your jawline, pinning your body firmer against the wall.

“God forbid if our mothers saw us right now,” you let out a slight gasp as he kissed the sensitive part of your neck.

“Well, good thing our mothers aren’t here to see us, right?” a low chuckle rumbled from his throat before reconnecting your lips again, his tongue fighting for its place in your mouth. Your fingers gripped at the back of his head, tugging at the strands to elicit a staggered moan from the boy, filling your chest with a weird sense of pride and definitely not helping your already inflated ego.

You could conclude you had certainly passed your tipsy stage, with the last shot of tequila seeping into your system and pushing your brain’s irrationality almost a bit too far. You remembered once hearing your tenth-grade biology teacher talk about the effects of alcohol on the human body and how it altered your brain’s chemical composition. Specifically, how it lowered an individual’s inhibitions and social rationalisation.

And considering your ongoing messy but undeniably hot lip-locking with Lee Donghyuck, you began regretting zoning off in the latter part of that science lesson (not really. You did manage to beat your personal record in 2048) where she had subsequently explained how to piece together the drunken jumble in your brain as the following few words which tumbled out of your mouth, you would inevitably regret.

“Wait, I need to pee.”

YOU HAD TO ADMIT. It was quite scary the amount of things you managed to figure out about yourself whilst severely intoxicated.

One, you really couldn’t hold your bladder. Evident by the frequent trips to the restroom every thirty minutes or the number of times you had bumped into the same group of girls gathered outside the basins, offering you a hit of their neon-coloured vape and a piece of their drunken secrets.

Two, realising the sheer amount of time and money wasted spent trying to figure yourself out during your high school years as the one night of limitless alcoholic beverages seemed to be a confronting personality test in itself.

Three, the emotions you spent years persuading to simmer down in your heart were capable of rapidly firing out in mere seconds alongside the memory bank of shitty pick-up lines and your apparent drunken rizz that went through the roof.

Four, maybe your best friend’s words of you supposedly being in your “hoe phase” were really true because at that moment, you really, really wanted to kiss someone – more specifically, Mark Lee.

It wasn't exactly the best course of action, considering your heated make-out session with Donghyuck not too long before – which you left halfway through, might you add. But wise decisions weren’t things you were great at making. Especially a few too many glasses of champagne and spirits deep.

According to your very skewed sense of time, it was around midnight when you stumbled into Mark once again, this time hidden within the shadows behind a pillar in the corner with another drink in his hand. Not many people lingered around this part of the room. You guessed it was due to the immobile bodies sprawled across the dingy carpet a few metres in front and a frustrating lack of both music and alcohol. With a light trip in your step, you made your way towards the boy.

“Oh my gosh Mark! What are you doing here?”

A concerned grimace appeared upon Mark’s lips, prompting him to place his drink on the carpeted floor to steady your rocking body. The room had begun spinning at this point in time, with Mark’s face distorting ever so slightly to your hilarity.

A giggle bubbled up your throat, followed by your hands which gravitated towards the poor boy’s face, poking various parts of his features in such fascination. Mark could only sigh, registering his sheer lack of control in the situation, as he sat you on the plastic chair.

A wave of peace washed over your bodies for a few minutes, with Mark quietly sipping on the remainder of his drink whilst you traced your fingers across his jawline. Though much to his despair, the calm before the storm barely lasted three minutes as your loud ass mouth began itching to dominate your brain.

“Mark, has anyone ever told you how fucking hilarious you are?”

Mark deadpanned, crossing his arms over his chest, “I haven’t said anything.”

“SEE?!” You bounced out of your seat, “A fucking knee slapper that one!”

Another sigh escaped his lips, getting ahold of your shoulders again to place you back down, “Y/N, how did you manage to even get like this?”

“You know Donghae? Haechang? Whatever his name is-”

“Donghyuck.” Mark corrected, eyebrows furrowing at the mention of his name, “What did that overgrown cabbage patch kid do to you?”

“Relax, he just bought me a shot…” You drew out your words before pouting, “Or two, and maybe a couple drinks before that.”

Mark shook his head, patting your head, “I’m gonna get you some water.”

“Nooo! Don’t go, you’re so sexy!” You latched yourself onto his waist, fingers twisting around the belt loops of his jeans.

You could feel him visibly freeze on the spot, occasionally twitching nervously the closer your hands lingered to his crotch. You staggered up from your seat again, hands grazing his torso to wrap around his neck. Despite only a part of his face being illuminated by the light behind the pillar, it was enough to make out his parted lips and widened eyes.

Just like Hyuck, you realised how much Mark had grown into his mature face over the years. His cheekbones were more prominent, and his hair styled with the hard gel he refused to use in middle school. You reached to pass a stray strand across his forehead, though your eyes never left his and your lips inching closer towards his.

“You’re drunk, Y/N.”

You shrugged, eyes flickering down to his lips, “I wasn’t drunk when I wanted to kiss you.”

“And when was that?”

“Middle school, high school,” You paused, pondering for a second, “After graduation.”

A moment of shock flashed across the boy’s face, lips partly ajar and what seemed like a rollercoaster of emotions tumbling within his eyes. You had always questioned what his response would’ve been to a potential confession back in the day; maybe he would’ve reciprocated your drawn-out feelings and lived as a happy couple to this day, or if you wanted to be pessimistic, suffered the horrors of a toxic middle school relationship and be forever traumatised by love for the rest of your life; or maybe he would’ve rejected your feelings and just remained as an awkward pair of “besties”.

There was a little voice shrieking from the depths of your brain to shut the fuck up, most probably belonging to your sober self trying to save your face. However, it seemed as though the mystery to your decades-long question would be answered that night as Mark chuckled, clearing his throat.

"Middle school me would've gone crazy hearing this."

You knew you were definitely wasted at that moment, his words of reciprocation to your elementary school feelings flying over your head and rather hyperfocused on the warmth of his embrace and the subtle gulp of nervousness he took.

"What about present-day Mark?” You murmured, your breath hitting his lips, “Is this making him crazy too?"

"Absolutely insane."

You were reminded of your friends’ comments on your drunken rizz, with apparently any form of embarrassment and dignity thrown into the gutter to crash and burn. With the amount of unknown dms you had woken up to the morning after drinking, you’d think you would’ve learnt your lesson by now – but your drunken alter ego was a stubborn bitch.

A bitch who definitely needed some kind of therapy.

As Mark smashed his lips onto yours, it was then you were hit by your mother’s words about drinking responsibly. Obviously, to avoid alcohol poisoning, potentially blacking out and passing out on the side of the road, but most importantly, to avoid involving yourself in sticky situations in which your sober self had to deal with the aftermath.

But how were you supposed to anticipate that the aftermath of a fuckload of champagne and tequila shots was going to have you hooking up with your childhood crushes at your school reunion?

Oh, and blackout whilst you were at it.

YOU WEREN’T GOING TO LIE, waking up in the comfort of your sheets came as a surprise for your tired self.

You were quite proud of yourself for making it back in one piece, or even back at home at all and not passing out on the side of the road somewhere, considering the rather large gap in your memory and the fact that you were most definitely still drunk when you woke up.

There was a slight wobble in your step as you made your way over to the kitchen, head pounding and face still numb as you took the first miraculous sip of water. Your phone screen lit up with a bomb of message notifications and Instagram tags from last night, in which you nervously opened your active group chat.

[ yunjin ] did i miss anything?

[ shuhua ] i shit talked about ppl with aeri and somi whilst high

[ ningning ] yk i don’t think i recall parts of last night

[ you ] i mean,, understandable. u were pretty fucked

[ minjeong ] y/n wrestling tongues with donghyuck was the most unexpected for me

[ shuhua ] you what😭

[ you ] we are not mentioning that…

[ ningning ] wait i swear it was mark, was it not?

[ yunjin ] lol plot twist: it was both

[ you ] …

[ minjeong ] YOU MADE OUT WITH BOTH OF THEM!??!?!?!

You chose to shut off your phone at that moment, predicting the bloodbath of capitalised screams and spammed Facetime calls from the group. Which, in all honesty, you severely lacked the willpower to deal with.

A soft shuffle of slippers sounded at the kitchen entrance, and you turned to face your mother. Still in her pink fluffy pyjamas, drowsily waved as she made her way to the fridge, delicately opening the door to grab the milk.

“How was last night?” she asked, making her way to the milk frother.

You hummed, walking to the coffee machine with a mug in hand. “It was…”

An absolute clusterfuck of chaos – would be the correct answer. But telling your mother you had drunkenly made out with the sweet little son of her old friend and the name of a boy she hadn’t heard from for half a decade probably wasn’t the best piece of news to be told first thing in the morning – if at all.

You slipped a capsule into the machine with a crack, half haphazardly pressing buttons on the top before a mellow whir filled the silence, “... Interesting.”

A short chuckle resonated inside the refrigerator door, “What did you do this time?”

You scoffed, offended by the direct jab of her question, “Hey! I don’t always get into trouble!”

“So you didn’t do anything last night?”

You groaned, pouring the foamed milk into the coffee mug, “Well, no…” Dragging on the o, you passed the mug to your mum, huffing as you sat on the countertops, “How can you always tell?”

“I think I’ve heard enough drunken antics from you to know,” she took a sip from her mug, raising her eyebrows at your phone lock screen, “And I think the amount of notifications you’re receiving says a lot too,”

You reached over the end of the countertop, swiping your phone with a roll of your eyes. Your once pretty lock screen of you and your friends had been bombarded by the stacks of message notifications, fulfilling your prediction of incessant exclamation marks and illegible keyboard smashes. However, one contact profile stood out from the rest – that being a concerned Renjun.

[ renjun ] u feeling alright after yesterday?

[ you ] physically, pretty decent. [ you ] mentally, very confused.

[ renjun ] haha fair, u did seem pretty wasted before u left

His message made you pause, attempting to dial back your inefficient memory to when you left the venue.

Did you even see Renjun before you left? Pfft, who were you even kidding – you didn’t even have any recollection of how you got home in the first place.

[ you ] remind me how i got home..? :)))

[ renjun ] … mark left u with minjeong who called u an uber home [ renjun ] god, how much do u remember?

[ you ] … not a lot

[ renjun ] u free wednesday? i think we need a debrief

“IS IT TRUE that you kissed both Mark and Donghyuck at the reunion?”

Now. When you agreed to get a casual drink with Renjun the following Wednesday, you had expected a few questions about your little flings with his friends to come up in conversation. But boy, did you fail to prepare for such bluntness so early on.

“H-how the fuck- did you- know?” Choking on the sharp intake of the unmixed gin at the bottom of your cocktail, the calm approach you had rehearsed on the way over to the bar fell apart as your response came out as a desperate splutter of coughs and stutters.

Renjun threw you a sidelong look, chucking the pathetic remains of the stale popcorn at your figure, which you barely dodged.

“Because those horny fuckboys told me, how else?”

You crossed your arms over your chest, the accentuation of the word fuckboys making you feel rather defensive over your drunken behaviour, “Just for the record, I don’t usually go around sucking faces with every hot guy I see.”

“I never accused you of doing so.”

A smug look settled on Renjun’s face, clearly amused by your unfortunate situation judging by the quirk of his lips as you reached for your drink once again.

“You are insufferable.”

“So-” Renjun dragged on, resting his elbows against the tabletop, “Who was the better kisser, hm?”

The alcoholic concoction got caught in your throat once again, sending both you and your rapidly declining self-preservation into a downward spiral. The straightforwardness of the boy is one of the contributing factors, the rest being the rather vivid flashbacks of your liaisons a few nights prior.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t talked about this before – in fact, you recalled it being one of the first questions shoved into your face when you picked up your friends’ calls. However, whether you gave them the answers they were desperately seeking for, you weren’t sure because simply. You weren’t exactly certain about how to answer it either.

“I cannot believe that you hooked up with both your childhood crushes and managed to mess up both interactions,” you remembered Shuhua splutter incredulously through your FaceTime call with the approving nods of the rest following shortly after.

“I just- how did you get the courage to pull the two hottest guys in our year whilst being the drunkest you had ever gotten?”

“It was because I was the drunkest I had ever been,” you grumbled in response, rolling your eyes at your screen, “I wouldn’t have otherwise.”

“So you’re saying you wouldn’t hook up with them again?”

You chose to remain silent for Ningning’s question, neither wanting to directly confirm or deny any theorised accusations which plagued your best friends’ minds, but, with the growing giddiness which reflected on their faces, you realised that no amount of silence could ever hide your real thoughts from your friends, prompting the passing notion that maybe the silence was actually meant for you and your restless little brain.

Shaking away your thoughts, you turned back to Renjun, “Why are you so interested in this anyway?”

Renjun slurped the last droplets of his cocktail, eyebrows raised in amusement, “Well, aside from the fact that you chose my two best friends as your hookups for the night – which, may I add, coincidentally happens to be both your childhood crushes – Let’s just say those two aren’t exactly on good terms right now.”

Your lips parted from the straw, “Aren’t on good terms?”

As far as you remembered, the three of them had been best friends since early middle school – a fact that made you want to coil up into a shameful ball of nonexistence – you recalled seeing them on the soccer field at lunch, oftentimes doubling over themselves over something on Donghyuck’s phone or the rare exchanges of shy hellos and flustered smiles when they had met up with Mark as he dropped you off in front of your classroom.

Despite the drift in friendship from your end, Mark’s friendship with Donghyuck had always seemed to remain close – which, considering their shared activities of partying, sports and residing in the same social circle, made sense.

Noticing your puzzlement towards his revelation, he added, “Believe it or not, they fought over the same girl a few months ago.” Renjun popped the fries in his mouth as if he wasn’t casually spilling his best friends' secrets to a girl he randomly reunited with a couple days ago, “which is funny because that’s literally what’s happening right now.”

You groaned, slinking further into the wooden seat with your head buried into your hands, “Great. So what you’re saying is that I’ve just further ruined your guys’ friendship because of some silly drunken mistake.”

“I guess you could say that.”

You rolled your eyes at him, “Oh, lovely. What a great reassurance to hear.”

“I was just offering my pure honesty, no harm intended.”

The two of you slipped into a comfortable silence, ordering the last deserving round of the cheap happy hour cocktails before it was too late. As you waited for your orders to be delivered, Renjun spent the time scrolling through the photos of their drunken nights out, replaying the short clips of Donghyuck with a traffic cone over his head and his own unfortunate events of being rolled around the empty city in a stolen shopping cart.

With the number of snorts and giggles exchanged, it felt like no time had passed since your high school days – except for the increasing recklessness between both parties.

You began retelling your version of your nights out, from the gasps extracted as you mentioned witnessing a random street brawl in an alleyway to the disapproving tuts of his tongue about your case of being stranded on the side of a highway at three am.

“You know Y/N? You really are the bringer of chaos.”

You could only chuckle in response as you reached for your phone, “Trust me, I’m not that bad.”

However, as you unlocked your phone to read through your missed notifications for the evening, you realised that maybe you should fix your habit of making bad decisions whilst severely intoxicated, as what you found waiting on your lock screen served as a painful reminder of quite possibly your stupidest mistake yet.

Noticing your sudden change of demeanour, Renjun frowned, “Hey, is everything alright?”

You could only bat an eye, pushing your phone to his side of the table for him to read.

[ mark ] hey, what u up to?

[ donghyuck ] { image 1 } [ donghyuck ] wuju misses u :((

Yeah, you took it back. You really were the bringer of chaos.

a/n: bro u don't even understand.. this has been sitting in my wip docs for like more than a year😭 but i finally forced myself to write and post something on this app that wasn't a longass smau OIHFOIWEHF anyways thank you for reading!! don't hesitate to leave a comment and rb this post if you liked it🥲

taglist: @polarisjisung @wooyoung-a @w3bqrl @ficrecnctskz @rv7hsua @n0hyuck @neosdaisy @baekhyunstruly @rum-gone-why @dinonuguaegi @alethea-moon @klovmasworld @moonchele @chernabogsbiggestfan @xxxx-23nct @maeumiluv @produmads @shwizhies @dearlyminhyung @barbkh8450t @cupid-yuno @mxnhoeuwu @haechansbbg @sehunniepot @ujisworld

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seancurry1 · 4 months ago

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Remember, Thou Art Barnacle

A serenity prayer for election day.

Originally posted on my website.

The Ann Selzer Iowa poll, regarded as the gold standard in all of political polling, shows Harris is up +3 in a state that Trump won by +8 in 2016 and by +9 in 2020.

And you are a barnacle.

The election better markets have Trump up by +19 (as of noon EST, 11/5/24), and bettors don’t care if people are ashamed to admit who they’re voting for—they’re in it for the money and only the money.

And you are a barnacle.

Mainstream pollsters have admitted to weighting their polls heavily in favor of Trump, to ensure they don’t end up with egg on their face like they did in 2016 and 2020 again. International whales are taking out huge bets in favor of Trump, swinging the markets, and right wing think tanks are flooding the zone with bullshit polls to artificially inflate Trump’s odds in the aggregate. And even if the popular vote is overwhelmingly for Harris, Trump’s team is already laying the narrative groundwork to support a Stop the Steal campaign that, by the time you read this, will likely already have started.

All of that is true.

And you are still a barnacle.

You are not piloting the ship. You are not the captain of the ship. You are not laying out the potential courses the ship could take, you are not deciding which course the ship will take, you are not scouting ahead.

You aren’t even a paying, ticket-holding passenger on the ship. You are a barnacle on the hull, deep underwater, and unfortunately, there isn’t really anything you can individually do to affect where this ship goes. Sorry!

This isn’t an invitation to check out, or become apathetic, or (heaven forbid) embrace doomerism. Quite the opposite: this is a reminder of who you actually are in this entire scenario, of the power you do not have, and of the power you definitely do.

After the 2016 election, some small part of myself was convinced I could change the outcome if I just posted hard enough. If I fought enough of my friends on Facebook, texted angrily, and tweeted from enough protests and rallies, somehow Trump would no longer be President-elect.

All it did was, literally, give me a rash. I got so angry for so long that my skin started to break out in hives. A doctor friend more-than-half seriously prescribed that I “get the fuck off Facebook” until my skin returned to normal. Trump was still President-elect, the next 8 years happened the way they did, and here we are today.

You’re going to hear a lot today: polls are tightening! Votes still aren’t in from this critical precinct! If these trends hold, then we can expect to know something by such-and-such a time! The race is as tight as can be! White supremacists are threatening violence to avenge a dead squirrel!

(The squirrel thing is 100% real, and my god, I really wish I was joking.)

Remember, through all of it, that you are not the captain of the ship. You are a barnacle on its hull, and there is very little you can personally do to change it at this point. You’ve already done all you can do—or maybe you haven’t, but even then, you’ve already done all you’re going to do.

And as you stress, and consider how inebriated you’re going to get, and decide on which web pages you’ll be refreshing every thirty seconds, and stress out some more, remember too that Donald Trump hasn’t ever won the popular vote in his entire miserable life. He only won the electoral college, a racist system explicitly designed to empower slaveholders in southern states, one time, and ever since then, he has lost every election he’s declared for.

More people did vote for the woman candidate the last time one ran for President, and more people have voted for the candidate of color than their opponent every single time a person of color has run for President on a major party ticket.

And women have already made up a larger share of early voting than men in this, the first general election post-Dobbs, than ever before in American history. (53% women to 44% men.)

So as you stress and consider your inebriates and say to yourself, “How can it possibly be this close?!” for the umpteenth time today, remember too that Donald Trump is a fascistic, deeply unpopular person (let alone President) backed by an even more deeply weird party, and that almost the entirety of your experience of this election is being filtered through the lens of a national, for-profit media that doesn’t care who wins, so long as you keep watching.

Remember, you are not the captain of the ship, you are not the helmsman, you are not the map-maker.

You are a barnacle.

Vote for Harris, vote Democrat in your local and state races, and trust your other barnacles.

If you like this, consider signing up for my newsletter to get more writing from me right in your inbox the second it posts: sean-curry.com/signup

#writing #election 2024 #kamala harris #serenity prayer #politics

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whorediaries-09 · 10 months ago

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hey I love your writing. I’d love if you could do like a James potter x reader where James is smoking and reader finds it really hot and has maybe there in public so she’s just sitting there really turned on and can’t do anything about it ??

hello, love! do you mind if i take a piece of your mind because this idea had me reeling. hehe, thank you for sending in the request!

can't you see, you're meant for me?

pairing- bsfdad!james potter x reader warning(s)-suggestive content, cigarettes. a/n- i'm a sucker for dilf james...sorry not sorry.

ps- this is very short :p. lmk if ya'll would like a part two hehe.

little train

you shouldn't be thinking about his biceps. not when you're out and about in public. but still, your mind doesn't stop reeling. you watch the sun rays reflect on his brown skin, reflecting the stretch marks he's got on his arms. they're beautiful, you think, as the veins pop from within his skin. he inhales another puff from the cigarette, watching as the smoke ascends into the sky.

'want one, love?' he asks.

'no mr. potter,' he huffs.

'i've asked you so many times to not call me that. you know you can call me james,'

'ah-okay, james, i don't want a cigarette.' he laughs.

'i don't think i'd be able to handle two stoners either ways.'

you're listening to him intently. at least that's what he thinks.

your mind however in occupied in the idea of having his hand wrap around your throat, as he'd push you to the wall, kissing you harsh. you imagine his fingers exploring every bit of your bare skin, with his rough calloused hands. you'd let him, happily. and even if deep down you know it was wrong to be fantasizing about your best friend's dad.

god, you couldn't help yourself.

'love, are you listening?' he asked, apparently caught up on the way you'd zoned out. you'd been practically zoned out, mesmerized by his biceps. he threw the cigarette on the ground, crushing it with the sole of his shoe.

you'd been caught. fuck.

'you seem lost, are you okay?' he said, moving towards you. he was wearing a compression sleeveless shirt paired with gray sweatpants. the ultimate outfit to get you reeling and drooling over him.

'i-ah- i zoned out, james. i'm okay,'

he didn't buy your lie. instead, he offered you a wicked smile.

'you are?'

'totally,' you answered, overly cheerful.

'and i totally believe you.' you blushed, cursing yourself internally.

'now tell me, what is your pretty mind thinking about?' he said, moving closer. you stammered, taking a few steps back.

'i-i'm just thinking about-'

'about?' he knew what you'd been thinking about. you could see it in his eyes. in his soft hazel eyes there was a twinge of malice, a twinge of mischief which you could recognize so well. and god forbid it made you so weak in the knees. you closed your eyes, trying to let your heart stop before you spoke the next words,

'you know what i'm thinking about, james.' he smiled lopsidedly, as if greatly amused, running his tongue over this upper row of teeth.

'do i now, love?'

'i think so, yes.' even if you're faking your confidence, he can right see through your act. he can see you crumbling from within as he towers over you, asking you mundane questions. and god does he love the effect he has on you.

he tests the waters, his palm coming closer to your face. you lean towards it, but just as your face is about to touch the crevice of his palm, your best friend shouts,

'oi! papa! i'm coming,' you jump away from him as harry comes running towards james. in your head, you hate how harry came in and ruined the moment. but you're also grateful because you didn't think you'd be able to control yourself if he held your face. however, it was safe to say the ride back home was more torturous than ever.

he kept tapping his fingers on the passenger's seat while he drove, seemingly nonchalant. but boy both of you knew it drove you fucking crazy.

*************************************

taglist - @reggieisfit @siriuslycaptainofthedawntreader @jamespottergf @eternallybipanicking @fictional-magic @iamgayforyourmom1510

(if you want to be tagged please send a request through my inbox.)

****************************************

#james potter x reader #james potter imagine #james potter smut #james potter fic #james potter fanfiction #marauders #harry potter fanfiction #the marauders #james potter #james #james potter x y/n #marauders era #james potter x you #dead gay wizards #the marauders era

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asraindarkness · 4 months ago

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ALSO while I’m at it.

I don’t know if this will be a budget thing. Maybe. But the lack of secondary characters is being detrimental to the show, in my opinion.

We don’t have May or Harry, we don’t have Sue, we don’t have Linda, or Carla, or Abuela or Tia Pepa. Hell, they got rid of Chris and who knows when he’s coming back. We don’t have Ravi, when he’s been a fan favorite and people have been asking more of him. Granted, I haven’t seen the level of outrage I’ve seen at this break up, and he didn’t drive engagement in the same way Tommy or even Chris did. But still. Even from the posts Anirudh made - it definitely looks like the departure wasn’t exactly friendly.

And the show is hurting from it. We are seeing the same characters go through the same things, bc God forbid they give them new things. We don’t have new dynamics (and when we do, look at what happened), and we are bored. Main characters are main for a reason, but we need secondary characters as well, and 911 has seemingly dropped almost all of them.

even Aisha and tracie are bored my friend lol. and yes!!! i love ravi and may ( i think may’s actor is going to college but what about ravi??)

they had the budget to drown a ship and crashed a plane for some mid ass stories but they can’t pay for side characters who can bring good stories with low budgets?? please!

#bucktommy #911 abc #asra answers

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calisources · 11 months ago

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𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑? 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐒.

All these quotes are taken from different media and some made from scratch about the royal succession line and the troubles it brought during a medieval/fantasy period. Change pronouns, names, titles and locations as you see fit.

You poison a king so that they may take his place.

Have no fear, Stark. I was only keeping it warm for our friend Robert. It's not a very comfortable seat, I'm afraid.

I swear to you, sitting a throne is a thousand times harder than winning one.

Seat Stannis on the Iron Throne and I promise you, the realm will bleed.

I will claim the Iron Throne by myself, with your swords and your allegiance.

If Daenerys is no more than a sweet young girl, the Iron Throne will cut her into sweet young pieces.

Princess Catherine. Your loss has endeared you to the people. They share your grief.

You've had your courses for days, but you do not tell anyone. I don't understand.

God would have me wed Prince Harry.

But you are his brother's widow. It is impossible. It is forbidden.

I am every inch the soldier... And commander.

In England, widows don't handle swords, much less a widow carrying a prince in her womb.

And I'll wager that you were praying for a boy.

My mother is already planning my next marriage, though in God's eyes it will be my first marriage.

If you are still a maid, then, Catherine, I can be your husband.

I will raise you up, you... you and all of England. You will be my princess and... and my queen.

Ten years since the king has been on the throne and there is no heir apparent. Only his brother, gods forbid.

Daughters don’t inherit, sons do.

You have a son but you must have a spare too. Gods know what would happen if the boy dies.

The line of succession is clear on these matters. Girls are the last resource.

I am a woman, whoever I marry must be clear on his duty. He is not the crown, I am.

His Majesty has no male heir and will have none but he, Buckingham will succeed to the throne.

By assassinating His Majesty.

Right of Conquest is still a rightful way to gain a throne. Has anyone banned it as a law?

Will you like it when an old man tries to make love to you?

God forbid that the king should abandon her just to ease his own conscience. I don't think the English people would ever forgive him.

She is threatening the peace in this realm by playing the king with empty promises. No one can predict a son.

Perhaps the succession must change, this dynasty is large and will survive.

Your Majesty, I beg that you yield to the King's will.

To your wife, the mother of your child. You treat me so unkindly and in public neglect me.

You think he might invade England in support of the queen?

You underestimate the support he/she has with the smallfolk and highborn alike. They would go to war if you dismiss them.

Perhaps, one day this little girl will preside over empires.

Now I am indeed Queen.

Perhaps Elizabeth isn't even mine!

Perhaps there should be reasons to annul the marriage and make the king consider marry another. He is still young.

Nothing like a young bride to make a man forget his troubles.

He will have his heir or else he will have my head.

Tell Sir Francis to double the guards around the Princess Mary and defend her with their life- for if the King dies, some will be for the boy, others for her.

There shall be a proclamation soon, the king shall announce his heir and the realm will rest.

A lifetime of building an empire can fall in a day because of the wrong successor to the empire.

It is not by blood, anyhow, that man's true continuity is established.

He became their king by right of blood; he's held the position by beating the crap out of anyone who tries to take it away.

When the crown is weak and struggles, anyone can come and sweep it away. And in this world, it is allowed.

This small council tried to work out what that meant for the line of succession.

If she were to wed him, her claim to the throne will increase, as her popularity.

While the king entertains the highborns, the prince/princess makes friends with the people they rule. The decision is easy.

Whoever he marries is as important as how many heirs he can produce.

Sons are good for the realm, Daughters are good for alliances.

My father chose me, his firstborn child, to succeed him. He held to his decision until death.

They stole my crown and murdered my daughter, and they shall answer for it.

I would rather feed my sons to the dragons, than have them carry spears and cups for your drunken, usurper cunt of a king.

I understand why you're angry. And you are my sister and technically have a claim to the throne. And believe me, I would love for someone else to rule. But it can't be you.

Father would hate to see you sit in his seat, when it was never you he chose.

The pretty decent king split the crown between his heirs.

Proclamations are good, but this should have been in written, send to every corner of the world. Now we have war.

When the king needed to be replaced, one of the royal family would be elected to be the new king.

Succession is never peaceful. The King new this and the reason he called a council for his new heir to be chosen.

The line must always continue.

That little bit of dragon blood in him allowed Robert Baratheon to sit on the throne and continue.

Our son is a wastrel and a halfwit. We shudder to think of the throne in his hands.

My greatest hope is that you will surpass me in every way, consigning my name to some forgotten corner of history.

What's most important is what he isn't like—his father. I think you'll find him to be a reasonable man.

The King is easily controlled by those in his council. All too happy to give some of the power away to another.

A king is a martyr to their ideals.

If the world of men is to survive, a Targaryen must be seated on the Iron Throne.

Women can rule as wise as men, perhaps even more.

Men would sooner put the realm to the torch than see a woman ascend the Iron Throne.

Have you never imagined yourself on the Iron Throne?

We have royal wombs, you and I. The child bed is our battlefield.

Ten years you’ve been king, and yet not once have you asked me to be your Hand.

The princess remains your best bet to step closer to the throne. Seduce her, marry her.

In the end, history will remember little, as history is written by the winners.

You have not one son now but two, Your Grace. Perhaps some changes to the successions are to be made.

I know why you are here. Men want my crown as much as they want the pleasure of a woman.

I need to give the realm an heir and plenty of spares.

What use is to gain a throne if you are already in crisis by having no heir by blood?

I can give you what she never gave you. Another son.

Are the rumors true, then? There is a child in your belly?

All of my father’s work will crumble if I leave it all to a weak sickly child.

#roleplay memes #sentence meme #( cali meme. )#rp memes #rp prompt #rp musings #roleplay prompt #medieval meme #tournament meme #tourney meme

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bartypluto · 8 months ago

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Everything wrong with the marauders fandom ── rant

Long rant about everything that I think doesn't make sense in the fandom since marauders TikTok is driving me crazy (I did not proofread this and I don't know how much sense it makes but I hope you get the point).

People in the marauders fandom ship characters and make friend groups based on tropes and the personality of the characters (e.g. Regulus being with James bc of the brother's best friend trope and because their personalities are cute together) instead of taking the characters' morals and opinions into account (e.g. James (canonically) hates Slytherins and blood supremacists, therefore he wouldn't like Regulus (romantically or platonically)). By doing this, the characters are reduced to stereotypes without morals. Everyone likes each other (the Death Eaters are friends with members of the Order) and there's no room for a plot. Why would blood supremacy exist if not a single Death Eater or member of the OOTP actually upholds their beliefs? What's the point of the Harry Potter novels if everyone is best friends with each other? (I'm not saying personality doesn't matter or that the tropes make no sense, but ignoring everything a character stands for is taking it too far).

Characters are limited to being "bad people" and not being allowed positive qualities or "good people" who don't have flaws (e.g. the Marauders being perfect (except for Peter) and Snape being irredeemable and the devil incarnate). Why is it always so black and white? You've already stripped characters of their morals and now you're also not allowing them to have both good and bad in them?

So basically friend groups and ships don't make sense, lore doesn't actually matter anymore, and talking about anything is pointless since everyone is arguing about headcanons (which can't easily be disproved, cause if you say someone's headcanon isn't realistic, they'll start talking about how "nothing is canon so it doesn't matter!!!" Which is just plain out wrong by the way).

The ideas of a good work of fiction and character analysis are ruined since no one cares about the canon things we know about characters. They are under the illusion of not having any canon information, even though there's actually quite a lot of info in the books. Character headcanons should be an expansion of said person, an elaboration of what they're like. Making random things up is not valid unless we genuinely don't know a lot about someone (e.g. Dorcas, but even in her case we still know she was against Death Eaters and blood supremacy, so saying she'd be friends with Death Eaters is a reach unless you're claiming she actually doesn't have strong morals or you think she was friends with them before they got blood supremacist beliefs).

Also please come up with better names cause what are "Slytherin skittles", "Partyvan" or even "dead gay wizards"? I'm sorry this might just be the hater in me but I cannot take this anymore. Being gay has become some kind of quirk and making every character lgbt is seen as a good fandom trait (the dead gay wizards name has been around for a while, but point still stands).

The fandom claims to be oh so inclusive because everyone is gay, yet they make Sirius a femboy because God forbid two masculine men are in a relationship. One of them has to be feminine, right? You're definitely not promoting negative stereotypes by doing that! Also Jily and other straight ships being seen as boring because "all heteros suck and only gay characters deserve a fandom!" You're literally setting us back under the false narrative of "being inclusive". You're perpetuating stereotypes (again) and you're acting like being gay is some special personality trait.

All the characters from the Marauders era are so interesting and the era has so much potential, but it's being wasted because of the fandom's poor understanding of fiction.

#marauders #harry potter #marauders era #james potter #regulus black #sirius black #severus snape #remus lupin #peter pettigrew #the marauders #barty crouch jr #barty crouch junior #evan rosier #lily evans #dorcas meadowes #marlene mckinnon x dorcas meadows #mary macdonald #partyvan

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k2padfoot · 2 years ago

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Finding Her

Draco x Y/n

summary: The Malfoy’s forbid you of pursing their son after years of a relationship with him. When the war broke out they wanted him as far away as possible from you and your unborn child. Months later Draco learns the truth.

warnings: tad bit of angst, crappy parents, hurt/comfort, fluff.

Rain was pouring down all around you as you raced towards your flat after a long day of work.

Your flat is on the second floor of the building so you made a run for it up the stairs and straight for your front door.

After rummaging through your work bag for your keys you finally unlocked the door and were startled to see Ginny Potter standing in your dimly lit living room.

It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary to see Ginny at your home, the Potter’s have been by your side through so much lately you truly have no idea where you’d be without them. Ginny had always been one of your best friends so when she found out you were about to be a single mother without a job she of course offered her help.

Harry and herself had set you up with an apartment 15 minutes from their home, Harry even got you a job at the Ministry to help with your bills. Ginny being an experienced mother already helped you in many ways to prepare for your child.

“Ginny? My God you almost gave me a heart attack.” you laughed as you sat your bags down and flipped on the kitchen lights.

“So what’s up?” you asked her as you rummaged through the fridge trying to find something to eat.

Ginny had already sat herself down at the breakfast bar across from where you stood, “I know we just saw each other this morning but I had to come quick because this couldn’t wait.”

Your head quickly spun around to face her, “What can’t wait?”

Ginny sighed roughly before continuing, “It’s Draco. He’s at our house—

“I’m sorry but did you just say Draco Malfoy is at your house?” you interrupted her.

“Well if you’d let me finish you would’ve heard the rest.” She said and you nodded at her to continue. “He came looking for you Y/n. He kept rambling about how he’s been back looking for you and that it’s driving him crazy not knowing where you’ve been.”

Your face went flush, “He’s been back?”

“I guess so, and he’s been spending all of his time looking for you. I won’t lie to you Y/n, he’s drunk right now and the only thing he keeps saying is how he needs you. I wouldn’t have came if it wasn’t necessary, he just doesn’t want anyone else but you and we can’t seem to help him no matter how hard we try.” Ginny did her best to explain.

You felt like you were going to break out in a cold sweat any second now, “I-I don’t where I’d start Ginny. He has zero clue about all of this.” you gestured to your pregnant belly, “And I haven’t seen him in over 5 months, what would I even say to him?”

“You don’t need to worry about that okay? Your showing just enough that we can still hide it with an oversized jumper and some sweatpants. All you need to focus on right now is speaking with Draco, I know you don’t want to but I think he needs you Y/n.” Ginny explained.

You exhaled sharply as you thought about the many possibilities of how this could go, “Alright, I’ll change and we’ll go.”

When you arrived at the Potter’s home your feet stayed planted to the ground before you. “Y/n are you coming?” Ginny asked as she opened her front door.

Feeling the bile crawl up your throat you hesitated for a moment, “Y-yeah, yeah of course.” You bit your lip to hold back the bile in your mouth as you stepped into their home.

“Here let me take your coat and I’ll start us some tea.” Ginny told you as she shook your coat off of you and hurried away to the kitchen.

“Y/n? Oh I was really hoping you’d come.” Harry said to you as he exited the living room.

“Y-yeah. So where um, where is Draco?”

“He’s upstairs at the moment. I took him to our guest room hoping he’d sleep it off but that was only an hour ago, I bet he’s still awake up there.” Harry let you know.

You nodded at him before looking up at the dim lit stairwell and hesitantly making your ascend up the steps.

You stopped in front of the guest bedroom, you closed your eyes for a moment trying to prepare yourself to go in. You took a deep breath and turned the door knob which to your dismay revealed an intoxicated Draco Malfoy tossed in the sheets.

“Draco?” you whispered, “Draco are you awake?”

A barley conscious Draco jolted up from the bed, “Huh? Y-yeah I’m up what’s wro— Oh my god Y/n is that you?” He was shocked to see you standing before him nonetheless.

“Hi Draco.” you replied.

“W-what are you doing here?”

You moved closer to the end of the bed he was still sat in, “I came to see you. Ginny was over at my place earlier and she said I was needed here.”

You could see he looked ashamed, “Oh God, I’m so sorry Y/n she shouldn’t have bothered you with this.” Draco tried apologizing as he ran his hands through his messy blonde locks.

You sighed softly, “She didn’t bother me at all. She said you needed me, so here I am.”

He raised an eyebrow at you, “And you actually came?”

“Well yeah, I’m standing right here aren’t I?” you said, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

“I guess you’re right.” he agreed.

Your eyes narrowed in on the man before you, it had been far too long since you’ve seen that beautiful face. “So what’s going on Draco? Why’d you come looking for me now?”

“My mother told me everything.” He explained as your stomach turned.

“Sh-she did?”

“Yeah, she told me how she basically threatened your life. How her and my father made sure you were out of the picture, made sure I wasn’t able to love you.. or to love our unborn child.” Draco told you at the same time he wiped few tears away with his sleeve.

Your eyes went wide at his words, “So you know everything?”

“I do. She told me the entirety of it about two weeks ago and I’ve been looking for you ever since.”

Your heart dropped, “Draco I’m so—

“Don’t. Just- just hold on.” He was saying as he got out of bed, “I’m sorry I’m such a mess.” He apologized while attempting to fix his messy hair and unbuttoned shirt.

He stood before you staring at you in astonishment, “It’s amazing to see you Y/n.”

You smiled faintly at him feeling your cheeks heat up, “You too Draco.”

He exhaled slowly, “God Y/n, I thought you wanted nothing to do with me. I thought you had moved away and started a whole new life.” Draco told you as his eyes began to water once more.

You gasped at the idea of Draco thinking you didn’t want him. “Draco, I’m so sorry. I-I thought I had no choice but to stay away from you, if I would’ve just realized your parents were lying then may—

“Stop, don’t do that.” He interrupted taking a few steps closer, you could see his fist clenched at his side in an effort to stop himself from reaching out for you. “Please don’t try to blame yourself. I should’ve looked harder for you, I just can’t believe you were still here the entire time.”

You let out a deep breath, “I know, but you couldn’t have known the truth.”

Draco nodded as he looked at you once again, but this time really looked at you. “Y/n, y-your belly it’s so, so—

“Pregnant?” you joked.

“Well yes but you are absolutely glowing. I just can’t believe that’s my baby in there.” Draco nervously said.

“Yes, yes he is.”

Draco’s mouth went wide, “Did you just say he?”

You could feel your heart flutter at his excitement. “I did.” you assured him.

“Oh. My. God. Wow, I-I have a son?” Tears brimmed at his eyes as he grinned ear to ear.

You nodded back at Draco, “I was thinking of naming him Scorpius.”

“Y-you remembered?” He could barley say between soft sniffles.

You smiled to yourself, “Of course I did. I just know he’s going to have your gorgeous blue eyes.”

Draco slowly approached you with caution until he saw that look in your eyes, the one that told him he never even had to ask your permission in the first place.

Gently he placed his hands on your belly softly caressing the womb that protected his son. “So perfect.” He whispered. “I can’t wait to meet you.” Draco told the little boy you were carrying.

Without warning his tender hands moved from your stomach to around your waist. Draco pulled you in close kissing you like it was yesterday. It was an intense kiss that made your entire body warm, his lips moved against yours like lightning and you were lost in him once again.

You both finally pulled away from each other to catch a breath when Draco gently cradled your face in his hands, “I love you, and before you say anything you don’t have to say it back. I just need you to know that okay? I need you to know that I love you and I’ve never stopped. I will never ever stop loving you and our son.”

You placed your hands on top of his own, “Well I do have something to say.” You told him as Draco could feel his palms turning clammy and his pulse race against time.

“I love you too.” you said with a beaming grin that Draco immediately reciprocated.

Without warning Draco had swooped you up into his arms and carried you to the bed, gently placing you on it.

You laid back against the sheets as Draco stared at you from above. “My beautiful, beautiful girl.” Draco kept repeating as he softly caressed your face. “My perfect girl carrying our perfect baby.” Draco cooed, his hands gently rubbing your belly now.

Watching Draco in awe of you and the baby you created together brought tears to your eyes that you just couldn’t help but let fall.

You smiled through soft sniffles and tears as you observed him only for Draco to notice you as well. “Y/n/n? Baby what’s wrong? Did I do something to upset you?”

“N-no, no of course not” you tried to tell him between soft cries. “I’m happy Draco, I promise these are just the happy tears.” you smiled through them.

Draco let out a soft giggle, “Good, because I am going to do everything in my power to keep you and our boy happy, to keep our beautiful family safe. I adore you Y/n and I am just so beyond grateful I finally found you.”

“Me too Dray, me too.” You smiled at him.

#harry potter #draco malfoy #draco imagine #draco malfoy imagine #draco fic #draco malfoy fanfiction #hp imagines #draco masterlist #draco malfoy x y/n #draco fanfiction #hp world #hp imagine #draco x you #draco fuckingmalfoy #draco malfoy angst #draco malfoy fluff #draco fics

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justlemmeadoreyou · 1 year ago

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Hopelessly Devoted to You-Part 2

Summary: Y/n agrees to Harry's offer; a flashback from the camp.

Words: 1.9k

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, a LOT of cute shit in the end (harry with kids :(((( (my weakness))

(previous part here) | (series masterlist) | (main masterlist)

Harry wasn’t this much of a hopeless romantic he is now, over Y/n. Sure, he had had his fair share of heartbreaks in the past, but that didn’t stop him from loving unconditionally.

So, when he found out about Y/n, it made his heart ache. He didn’t know if she wanted her as her lawyer, or just wanted to talk to him about it as a friend

Either way, he was happy to help.

There was a call from his secretary, Anna, when he was going through a document.

“Yes?”

“Mrs. Clark is here to see you” she said through the phone.

“Mrs. Clark? Oh, Y/n? Yeah, send her in”

He would never get used to her carrying the name of her douchebag husband.

She knocked the door softly, even though he had already allowed her to come in.

“Come in”

She unlocked the door, a smile on her face as she let herself in, closing it behind her.

“Hi” she greeted him, coming and sitting on the chair in front of his desk.

“Hi, how have you been?” he asked.

“I’m alright. I-I thought about–the offer you gave me the other day”

“Oh yeah? What did you decide?”

“I’ll–I’ll take it, yeah. I just want this all to be over as soon as possible”

His smile faded away. Did something bad happen? Because if it did, God forbid he would go to her house right now and beat him up.

“Did-did something happen, Y/n? You know you can tell me, right? I’m here for you”

She smiled again, shaking her head in no, “No–nothing bad happened–it’s just–he kind of got suspicious that day–after I went home, he kept asking me where I had gone and what I do”

“Oh–what did you tell him?”

“I told him it was lunch with a friend. He asked me who it was, and I told him it was Grace–she is a friend of mine. He called her and she said that I was with her the whole afternoon, she’s super sweet, and saved me.”

He sighed in relief, thankful that he hadn’t hurt her.

“He’s such a bastard–it’s like he feels that he owns you or something” he huffed.

“I know! That’s why–I want you to be my lawyer”

He grinned wide, a victory for his heart as he shook her hand.

“I’m so happy, Y/n. And I want you to know that you don’t have to worry about the money, alright? You don’t have to pay me at all”

Her eyes widened. Why was he doing this for free? She knew this was going to be a long trial, because he won’t let go that easily. Plus, she would have to fight for Ellie’s custody too.

“But–Mr.Styles–I can’t take it. It’s a super generous offer, but I really can’t.”

Of course she won’t. He’ll just have to make her take it, then.

“Y/n–okay, tell me, how will you pay me, then?”

Her shoulders slumped, mouth quirking in a pout, that he wanted to kiss. But he pushed that thought to the back of his mind, where numerous others were locked in.

“I have my savings–since the abuse started, I started to save money for myself, and Ellie’s education-in case I ever needed to leave him, or he left me for someone else”

If anyone leaves her, her, for someone else, he has to be the biggest moron on the planet.

“Y/n, you know I won’t let you do that. You are leaving Elliot, and you’ll need it after you move out of his house”

“But–but–”

“No but’s. Please. I insist”

She sighed, licking her lips as she reluctantly agreed. She began to think, lost in thought as he began to scribble something on the notepad nearby.

“Oh-what if I get a job till then? Then you’ll let me pay you, right? Because then money would be coming in and savings won’t be an issue–”

“We’ll see about that”

He dismissed. He wasn’t going to let her pay him even a penny.

. . .

“So, you’re a lawyer?”

Y/n asked him.

They were sat by the bonfire. After a long, long day of kids screaming, playing around, crying for their parents, lots of first aid kits because they kept falling off the trampoline–all of them had a moment of rest.

A bonfire was lit, after the kids were put to sleep. Everyone had found someone they could talk to–just like Y/n and Harry found each other.

They were sat side by side on the mat, a cup of tea in their hands as they talked and laughed with no care in the world.

“Yeah. Family lawyer. If you ever need help, you can come to me, I’ll help you–no money in exchange”

She had giggled softly back then, but that offer was her lifeline today.

“Alright. Noted” she smiled, taking a sip off her cup.”

“What about you? Your husband–he works in accounts?”

Her smile slipped away at the mention of him, and Harry took a mental note to not bring him up again. She was hoping he would do that too.

“Yeah, he’s an accountant”

“That’s good.

They fell into silence after that, the sounds in the background only being the sounds of crackling fire and then suddenly, there was a cheer. They looked up to see someone had gotten a guitar, and began to play a song. It was difficult to identify which one it was from just the guitar tune, but Harry knew.

"Horse with No Name," Harry said, a nostalgic smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Y/n's eyes widened in surprise. "You play guitar?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.

Harry nodded, a hint of bashfulness in his expression. "Yeah, I used to play quite a bit back in college. It's been a while, though."

Encouraged by his confession, Y/n urged him, "Well, why don't you play something for us now? I'd love to hear."

Harry hesitated for a moment, but the warm glow of the fire and Y/n's encouraging smile emboldened him. With a nod, he took the guitar from the musician and began to strum a gentle melody.

As the soothing notes filled the air, Y/n felt herself relax, the tension of the day melting away. Harry's fingers danced across the strings with practiced ease, and soon, the melody took on a life of its own.

Lost in the music, Y/n closed her eyes and let herself be carried away by the melody. For a brief moment, there was nothing else in the world except the sound of Harry's guitar and the crackling of the fire.

When the song came to an end, there was a moment of silence before applause erupted from the small crowd gathered around the bonfire. Y/n opened her eyes to see Harry smiling at her, a twinkle of satisfaction in his eyes.

"Thank you," she whispered, her heart full with the beauty of the moment.

Harry returned her smile, his own heart lightened by the connection they had shared. "Anytime," he replied, his voice soft with sincerity.

“So, when did you decide to become a lawyer?” she asked, wanting to talk to him more. The camp was only a week, and that was a small amount of time for her to get to know this gentleman who found her interesting.

"Well, ever since I was a child, I've had this innate sense of justice. I couldn't stand seeing people treated unfairly, and I knew I wanted to make a difference." Harry replied.

Y/n nodded, impressed. "That's admirable. Not everyone has the courage to pursue their passions."

She knew she was talking about herself.

Harry smiled gratefully. "Thank you. It hasn't always been easy, but knowing that I can help people in their time of need makes it all worthwhile.”

He noted how she had said “not everyone” and he suspected she was talking about herself.

“And–I don’t mean to intrude, but I think when you said, “not everyone”, you meant yourself?” he asked.

She shrugged her shoulders, gulping down as she replied, “Yeah, I–I wanted to be a teacher. I’ve always loved children, and it was my dream to get a job at a primary school and teach and take care of little children.

Harry smiled. She was so innocent, so pure. But she had seen more than he ever did.

“So, why did you quit?”

Her smile faded away again, “It was mostly me, but I got married young, you know–I fell in love with him in high school, and I was just a young, naive, innocent girl who did not know better”

He nodded, listening intendedly as she talked about it.

“So–I got married, and then pregnant, and all of that faded away. Like, I completed school and my degree–that was when I got pregnant so I never really had a chance to complete my masters degree or look for a job. And then Ellie was a premature baby, so Elliot suggested that I stay at home.”

It was so easy to talk to him. Even though they had met today, the way he was able to get her to talk so much–open up about her past, and talk about stuff she never had with anyone–was magic.

“So, would you work if you got the chance to?” he asked. If she was his wife, he would never have gotten her pregnant if she didn’t want to, and he would’ve made her complete her masters, and get a Phd, even, because she was just that smart.

“I mean–yeah sure, I would. But I would need a masters degree to work in a decent school, and the opportunities are already so low. So, it’s a lost cause”

Harry immediately protested, “Hey, don’t say that. No, it’s not a lost cause. If you want to, you can still get your degree, and then work. You’re young too”

She blushed at that. It had been a while since she had heard that.

. . .

The next morning, Y/n took Ellie to meet Harry.

“Honey, this is Harry–he’s mommy’s new friend”

She introduced him, and he smiled so big, his dimples and bunny teeth were on display.

“Oh god, who is this pretty little girl?” he exclaimed, and she giggled, already looking up at him with adoration.

“Hi Harry, I’m Ellie. But my mom calls me cupcake”

He giggled again, crouching down on his knees, taking her tiny hands in his.

“So, what can I call you, Miss.Cupcake?”

She giggled again, and seeing the way Harry was with kids, made Y/n’s heart swell.

“You can call me cupcake too” she replied, and he reached into his pockets, pulling out a candy, “Here, take this” he gave it to her, and she smiled.

“Next time, I’ll have a cupcake for you”

♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡

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kitty-tea · 1 year ago

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Like father, like son

(Link to masterlist)

Read part 2 here

Read part 3 here

Summary: Harry and his father James are similar in so many ways. They like Quidditch, they’re both Gryffindors, and they have you in their lives. The difference is that you feel something for James that you’ll never feel for Harry who is younger than you.

A/n: originally supposed to be a single part but it was too long so I turned it into multiple parts.

Pairing: James Potter x reader

NSFW 18+ only!

Word count: 3.8k

Tags/warnings: mature content, love triangle (kind of), masturbation, sexual content, fluff, angst, mentions of death, reader is of age, heavy sexual tension, borderline adultery, one-sided crush, James lives, doesn’t follow the main storyline at all, conflicting feelings, accidental groping, innocence kink, slow burn

Ever since your parents were murdered by Death Eaters, you had never been in a stable living situation. You never stopped moving in between the Potters’ house, the Weasleys’ Burrow, or Sirius’ ancestral home. Out of everywhere you’ve moved, it was those three places you spent the most time at. When you were an eighteen-year-old in your seventh year, and your friend Harry was fifteen and in his fifth year, you got the news that your childhood home had been burned down. Harry and the surviving adult members of the Order decided it was then that they would introduce themselves to you, and the secret society your parents were a part of. They knew it was the Death Eaters who were responsible for your parent’s demise, but with no evidence of their responsibility, the Ministry had no arrests.

Everything in your life began to change and move too fast for you to keep track of from then on. The pain of losing your parents was easily numbed out by all the studying you subjected yourself to, but it wasn’t until after you graduated that the pain settled into the void that was once filled by academic stress. The members of the Order understood that you were in no place to go out and find a job, so they gave you allowance money for doing house chores for them.

You first met Harry formally when he, as a first year, was introduced by Oliver Wood, as the new Seeker for your house’s Quidditch team. You were skeptical about having a first year player on the team since it was against the rules, but Wood and McGonagall told you to trust their judgment, and Harry had won his first match. You congratulated him, and after that, you’d kind of taken him under your wing. Being older than him by three years, you weren’t close with him in the same way he was with Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, but besides that, he never had a big sister, so that’s how he came to see you as. But that was when he was younger.

When you visited his family’s home in Godric’s Hollow over the winter holidays, you met his parents for the first time as they gave you their sincere condolences for your loss.

Another thing in your life that moved at you too fast was the little crush you were starting to have on your little friend’s married father. The moment you met James, you got straight into bonding over Quidditch since the both of you played the same position for Gryffindor. You were eighteen years old, you never had a crush before, your life was a stressful mess, and you didn’t need the guilt of being attracted to a married man to be added to it. You wondered if it was normal to feel the way you felt about having a crush on somebody. You’ve heard the other girls at school giggling and smiling about their crushes, but they were boys their age, not married, and they weren’t dealing with the type of stress you were dealing with.

Out of every family whose house you stayed at you spent the most time at the Potters’. Lily had come to see you as the daughter she never had. James on the other hand, was someone you were so desperate to hide your attraction from his wife.

Since you didn’t have much clothes of your own, you had to wear Lily’s hand-me-downs, or God forbid, whatever Sirius’ mother used to wear in her teenage years. Between those two women’s fashion senses, it was easy to say you favored Lily’s bright sundresses over Walburga’s gowns that reeked of darkness and death.

The sight of you wearing Lily’s old clothes around the house was enough to make James lose it if he wasn’t in front of his family with his wife complimenting you on how adorable you looked. Lose what? His sanity? He didn’t want to know.

That night as his wife was asleep next to him, you asleep on the living room couch, and his son asleep in his own room, all of them blissfully unaware of his racing thoughts, he couldn’t get the image of how you looked out of his mind.

James felt guilt and arousal overcome him as he pictured the way Lily’s dress (now yours) clung so effortlessly to your figure, showing off your thighs, barely leaving anything to the imagination.

Those days that you went to go live with other families were a breath of relief for James as much as it was torture. Relief because his mind wasn’t clouded with his filthy thoughts about you that he had in front of his wife, and torture because he missed everything about the intoxicated feeling he’d get from your addictive scent when you’d walk past him to the fierce pounding in his chest that made him feel the same way he felt about Lily.

Speaking of looking at you, he didn’t think you’d catch onto how his son started looking at you, but he did. He was a boy once, he understood the signs of a lovesick boy, and Harry checked all the boxes. He hoped that he wouldn’t be pursuing a relationship with you. He was a fifteen-year-old boy, and you were a young woman, of course the feelings his underage son had were no less inappropriate than the feelings he had for you as a married man!

To go behind his wife’s back and act on his feelings would not only be a betrayal to her, but to you and his son as well. It would ruin the family dynamic that the four of you had been building up. And he didn’t want to take that away from you. Even though you were an adult, Lily and James referred to you and Harry as “the kids.” Lily might’ve thought it was cute to have herself and James call you that, but to him it made him feel disgusted at himself, for it only reminded him even more that while you were closer to his son’s age, you were not a kid.

The day he’d almost crossed the line of no return was during the hot summer of his son’s sixteenth birthday, when Lily told you, Harry, and James that she was going out to meet friends, leaving the three of you alone. James decided it was a good idea to take “the kids” out for some ice cream in town.

Once the three of you sat down next to one of the coffee tables, taking refuge in the cool air circulating around the ice cream shop, Harry sat on the couch next to you while James took his seat on an armchair across the table from you.

Harry congratulated you on finishing your magical education, telling you how strong you’ve grown after everything you went through in your last year. You then shifted the focus of the conversation onto Harry’s upcoming sixth year, asking him about the classes he’ll be taking.

James watched as you and Harry talked for a while. Even though his eyes never left you, he could sense the lingering looks his son would give you, and it made him seath inside. James didn’t know if it was cute or pitiful that you made it very clear to Harry that when you would tell him you saw him as more than a friend, you meant that you saw him as a little brother.

When Harry had finished his ice cream, he pulled out some Muggle coins from his pocket and told you to join him in the arcade area of the shop when you were done before running off.

Even though you were still in a public space, James felt like he was alone with you.

With the way you were licking your ice cream off the spoon slowly while keeping your eyes on him, it would’ve been easy for onlookers to mistake it as an attempt at seduction. Even he would’ve mistaken it as such if you didn’t know he was married. He thought you might’ve been spacing out, unaware that a drop of the sweet threat had stuck near the corner of your lips as you finished the bowl.

Only when he called out your name to get your attention did you jolt out of whatever daydreams you were immersed in.

That sweet look you gave him with your doe eyes almost made him forget what to say until his eyes fell to your lips.

“You’ve got something. Right here.” He pointed to the spot on his face to mirror where the ice cream was stuck.

You stuck your tongue out swinging it near your cheek and failing to reach that spot which made James chuckle. You looked so silly with your whole face scrunched up in concentration.

“Did I get it?” You asked hopefully.

“Here, let me help you.” He said without thinking as he got up from his seat and plopped down next to you. Right to where your exposed thigh was touching the fabric of his jeans.

He was so close to you he felt like he could get drunk just off the scent of your strawberry shampoo. You looked so small and innocent, looking up at him like a deer in the headlights.

It was as if his heart was possessing his body and controlling his hand that brought itself up to your cheek, his thumb wiping across it. He could’ve just let go of you, or better yet get you a napkin to clean yourself up which is what he should’ve done in the first place. You were perfectly capable of taking care of yourself, you weren’t a little girl. That thought still didn’t make him feel like less of a pervert.

He was for sure spacing out because the next thing he knew, he found his thumb had landed on your bottom lip. He miraculously found it in himself to stifle a groan that wanted to escape him as he felt your tongue give out a small, hesitant lick.

“All done!” You let go of his thumb and gave him a cheery smile as if you hadn’t just almost made him cum right there. “I’m gonna go see what game Harry’s playing!”

You stood up with your empty bowl and threw it in the waste bin before running off to join Harry, leaving him to feel disgusted in himself.

He was indeed disgusted in himself for how he had imagined for a split second that it was his cum all over your pretty lips instead of the ice cream.

One of your favorite activities to participate in was dueling. The older adults in the Order thought dueling was something important that should be incorporated into your life post-education. You thought it was interesting how each of them had different styles for training you. With Sirius, he would throw insults to purposefully catch you off guard, to simulate fighting with the enemy, while with Molly, she would tell you what a good job you were doing and to keep it up.

It was Remus who first brought up the idea to have everyone take turns training you. You couldn’t stop blushing as he bragged to James and Lily about how you and Harry were one of the most talented students in your years he saw potential in. And now that you were out of school, it was the perfect time for you to focus on learning how to fight to expand on that potential.

You usually had your training sessions in the Potters’ or Weasleys’ backyard since there was way more space and less risk of property damage than Sirius’ family home in London.

It was a guarantee that Harry or the younger Weasley children would come and watch you, seeing that it would be a good learning experience for them too.

Harry sat next to his father on a bench, giving you a thumbs up as you stood in front of Sirius, preparing for the sparring session in the Potters’ backyard. It was just you, Sirius, and the father son duo out there. Lily was out once again this time at her job.

You and Sirius got to it straight away firing spells at each other. While Sirius used Protego, you knew you weren’t as skilled in the shielding charm, so you opted to move out of the way when he’d blast at you.

“Don’t you know you’re just tiring yourself out with all this moving!” He shouted at you. “Bombar-”

“Arresto momentum! Descendo!” That combination had him slow down his movements before suddenly thrusting him onto the grass.

“Nice one!” James clapped his hands. “You’ve got good reflexes! Keep going!”

“Shut up James, you’re distracting her! That’s my job!” Sirius turned to him, giving you an opportunity to cast Flipendo, sending him rolling backwards.

“I win!” You held up your arms as Harry jumped up and high-fived you. “Who’s distracted now?” You stuck your tongue out at Sirius, who was still on the ground, rubbing his head.

“That’s not fair! James, it’s all your fault! It’ll be our turn after the break!” He pointed accusingly at his best friend.

“I’ll be looking forward to it. You won’t stand a chance against me, old friend.” James smirked.

“Both Sirius and your dad are such show offs.” You laughed with Harry. “Typical Gryffindors.”

“Hey, don’t pretend like you’re not one of those too, young lady!” Sirius snapped his fingers at you.

“Ugh. I’ve got to use the loo. I think she flipendo-ed my bladder.” He groaned, standing up. You and Harry only looked at each other and burst out laughing as he disappeared through the back door.

“You’re getting so much better! I can’t wait until I’m old enough to use magic outside school! We can practice together!” Harry praised you.

“Aww, Harry you’re so sweet! I love you!” You smiled at him, reaching out to ruffle his already messy hair.

“I… love you too.” James knew that one sentence had two different meanings depending on which one of you said it. Besides, what did the young boy know about love? What he was experiencing was a silly teenage crush. He couldn’t fall in love with you, he was too young for you. He wondered if his own son even knew how poorly he was concealing his little crush from him. He might have you fooled, but James knew him better than you did in terms of how he showed his feelings.

“You’re the best little brother I never had!” You opened your arms, letting Harry into your embrace.

“Yeah, thanks.” He wrapped his hands around the small of your back. Both you and James could see the frown forming on his face. James was glad in a way that you and Harry weren’t the same age or else he would already have asked you out, he was completely sure of it.

“What’s wrong?” You innocently asked Harry, tilting your head. You looked as though you were wondering what Harry was thinking as you caught him staring at you.

“Nothing… I’m just-I’ll just be standing outside the bathroom and telling Sirius to stop hogging it.”

It was just you and James now, standing alone in the middle of the grass.

“Is that how you’re preparing for your turn with Sirius? By standing around doing nothing?” You spoke first.

“Yes.” James shrugged. “He’s got no idea what’s coming for him.”

You could feel a blush creep up your cheeks as you thought you saw him wink at you. You awkwardly shifted your weight from one foot to the other, trying to find something to keep the conversation going.

“You did well. You’re still young, and you’ve got so much to learn.” James said. You didn’t know when you had moved so close together to the point of your toes nearly touching. “Show me your stance again.”

You put your wand out in front of your face and flicked your arm.

“Darling, I’m sorry, but you’re leaving yourself open to an attack. Try this.” Your breath hitched in your throat as James got so close behind you to the point his chest was lightly pressed against your back.

He took your fist that was clenching your wand, lowering it slightly so that it wasn’t as in your face anymore.

“There. Now you can see your target much better.” His voice dripped into your ear like sweet honey, making you feel weak in your chest.

You were however more horrified with yourself at the ache that began to grow between your legs as you felt the tips of the fingers of his other hand brush through your hair before tucking it behind your ear.

“Why don’t you try again?” He whispered, his lips almost touching your earlobe. “This time, bring your legs apart more.”

“Wh-What?” That was the only word you remembered how to say at that moment. You were so distracted by his smooth voice you couldn’t stop the image of yourself naked with your legs spread in front of him from forming in your mind.

“To help you balance.” James clarified. Okay, he didn’t mean anything sexual by that. You had to remind yourself as you felt a shiver run through you along with his hands that slid from your arms to your waist and hips before landing on the cotton hem of your shorts.

You could feel the heat between your thighs grow as James gently squeezed the soft flesh that was dangerously close to your pussy. You were glad you wore panties that day or else you would’ve soaked through the thin material of your shorts by now.

You didn’t know what you were thinking when you squirmed and you felt James’ forefinger grazing just the lightest bit against your pussy. You could’ve sworn you heard him whisper a cuss word.

“James?” You tried to bring him back. “How am I doing. Is my stance good now?”

“Yeah… you’re doing excellent.” He breathed out.

You had never felt an erection against your body before, but you were sure you could feel something hard pressing against your ass at that moment.

“I’m going to let go,” thank goodness. You didn’t know how much longer you could take it with him manhandling you like that. “And you’re going to cast a spell with the new stance I taught you.”

You felt like you could finally breathe as the weight of his body disappeared from behind you.

“Engorgio.” The flower nearby ballooned up.

“Good girl.” You didn’t know whether his eyes had darkened or it was the lighting.

James was as equally disgusted in himself as he was intrigued. He had come this close again to crossing the line between what was and wasn’t inappropriate with you. Actually, he was sure he deserved time in hell for how he was touching you earlier as it was definitely considered inappropriate. He was intrigued because he was now sure the attraction went both ways.

The slightest whimpers he could hear coming out of you was something he couldn’t get out of his mind as his hand softly squeezed around his cock, with his other hand planted against the shower wall.

It was like his eyes had suddenly been opened to the glances you’d cast at him that would linger a little longer than what was normal. Speaking of normal, he knew he shouldn’t be shaming or ridiculing you for these feelings you were having. He knew it was normal for young women to catch feelings for older men. He’d seen it in the way Nymphadora Tonks looked at his best friend Remus, even if Remus himself tried denying it with excuses such as, “I’m too poor, I’m too old, I’m a werewolf.”

He imagined that instead of his hand pumping around his cock, that it was yours, or any body part of yours. Your lips, your pussy, your tongue, he wanted it all. He let himself admit it.

He could never go back to telling himself that he only saw you as a daughter. He may be able to convince everyone otherwise, but not himself.

His mind went back to how his finger had accidentally grazed over your clothed pussy, where he could feel the heat of it along with the outline of your inner lips rubbing against the seam of your shorts.

He started wondering how you would taste on his tongue. He imagined you would be an addicting treat to him that he couldn’t get enough of.

He then got curious about how tight your walls would feel around his dick. He deduced from your conversations that you never had sex from the lack of boyfriends mentioned. At this point, he was so desperate for his seed to spill into your virgin cunt, to the point he shut his mouth abruptly as he caught himself grunting your name. He knew no one in the house would hear him over the sound of running water, but he could never be too careful.

With one last stroke of his cock along with the image of you bent over in front of him, water glistening along the soft curves of your body, he let himself go. He wished it was your tits his cum hit not the shower walls. He squashed that thought out of his mind almost as soon as it crept in.

Trying to escape those thoughts, he aggressively yanked the shower head off the rack, desperate to wash away any evidence of his indecent activity.

Even behind your innocence, you had to be hiding a beast that was waiting for the right man to have it lured out. He wanted it to be him, but he couldn’t betray everything he and his family had worked for, he reminded himself for the umpteenth time.

Why couldn’t he just look at you the same way his friends looked at you?!

There was definitely something wrong with James because the way he looked at you was not how any father should look at his daughter.

Then, there was Harry. The way he looked at you was not how any brother should look at his big sister.

Harry’s little crush he had on you seemed innocent, the extreme opposite of James’ sexual attraction towards you.

For a second James envied his son. He was too innocent to have his mind plagued by these wild fantasies of you. All he got was a fluttery feeling in his stomach from looking at you which translated to a poorly concealed blush to other people’s point of view.

He understood Harry’s feelings towards you. You were a beautiful, kind, young woman, how could he not be smitten by you? How could he be angry at his son for feeling something so natural for any boy to feel?

He could just be angry at himself. Yes, he deserved to burn in hell after all.

#fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #reader insert #james potter #james potter x reader #james potter fanfiction #fem!reader #love triangle #forbidden love #hp fandom #hp fanfic #harry potter #best friends dad #marauders #the marauders

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the-colourful-witch · 1 year ago

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There's no Parvati without Lavender :) When I was a kid first reading the books, I didn't like Lavender and Parvati much. They were written in a negative way. They would giggle about everything and say 'oooh' and 'aaah' about stuff and shriek and squeal. And of course, they liked pink and were very emotional... yuk, right? (Note the sarcasm here.) Now, I realize the misogyny that backs all that up. Lavender and Parvati are young women who possess big hearts and know what they like. They are in tune with their emotions and their feminity. And there is absolutely NOTHING WRONG with liking girly things. I have a pair of fluffy pens on my desk that I write letters with to my friends. I own a drawer full of stickers that I stick on my planner. I like the colour pink more and more as I grow older and fuck everyone who makes young women believe they are not allowed to like those things. Because god forbid, you're considered 'girly', which in this case sounds like 'weak'. Weak? Are you kidding? Lavender and Parvati fought in the war. They risked their lives to save others. Lavender ran after Blast-Ended Screwts to help Hagrid with his class! I would rather eat my socks. NoT To MEntiON, the two of them were the only students who bothered to comfort Professor Trelawney when her bloody career was on the line! I will no longer accept any criticism about Lavender. She is a good person. I'm going to continue because there's a lot to say.

Oohing and aahing when you see a unicorn is not annoying, Harry. You pubescent little shit. If I saw a unicorn, I would bawl my eyes out. Don't judge people.

Crying when your pet rabbit dies is also NOT ANNOYING. Have some sympathy. Hermione, just because YOU don't believe in Divination doesn't mean it's nonsense. Don't make fun of people and their perception of the world. RIP Binky <3

Am I done? NO! Lavender was a 16-year-old girl when she got her first boyfriend. Was she clingy? Yes. Did she use silly nicknames? Yes. Does that mean she deserved to be led on for weeks? No. So, Ron Weasley, apologize. For the love of GOD.

Alright, I think I'm done.

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panthera-tigris-venenata · 6 months ago

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What's their lock screen?

Mal - okay she deserves her own art or a a street art mural she's currently obsessed with. I'm not taking criticism.

Jay - hmm, I'd say a team photo after a big tourney victory. Not the staged one, a wild celebration one that Mal took.

Evie - some celebrity. But cropped out so there's only the dress. She fundamentally doesn't care about that person. ...bonus points if it's Mal wearing one of her creations. Also cropped.

Carlos - look, just doesn't care. It's whatever Mal or Jay did while messing with his phone.

Ben - ...I don't think he has time to care. He has had the same one since he was fourteen, and Audrey chose that one.

Audrey - Aesthetic collages or art that she paid to have custom-made. As she deserves.

Chad - a selfie. Criticism NOT accepted.

Jane - oh, tough one. Maybe whatever's her current obsession. Also, she seems like she'd find having people she cares about as lock screen mortifyingly awkward.

Uma - sea ponnies. Obviously.

Harry - Uma, also obviously. The photos vary. CJ changed the lock screen to something one (1) time. Tough time for everyone in about five mile radius.

Gil - I think he just lets his friends and the kids that hang around the crew do whatever. Harry sets it to his selfies and/or embarassing photos of Gil pretty regularly to mess with him, but Gil doesn't mind.

Harriet - a photo of her ship. Gods help you if you try to fuck with it.

Sammy - also a photo of the ship. Though the twins or Marya change it to photos of various critters they found. Sammy wouldn't say they're thrilled by that, but they won't forbid it.

Ginny - an in-the-moment photo of her partners. They despise the photo, but she adores it. Changed it to Maddy's photo one (1) time, very quickly took it down under the threats of painful death and forced withdrawal.

Anthony - I feel like he's being Basic and just choose one of the offered ones. Or actually, a photo that's mostly just pitch black. He won't change it. No matter how Ginny whines.

Dulcia - a photo of herself posing in front of a mirror, phone over her face. Maybe her sisters are with her. They're forbiden to fuck with her phone.

Dizzy - ... it's fanart. She deserves that.

Celia - tarot card art.

Freddie - either same as Celia (y'know to freak out people), or poster of jazz singer she likes, OR mildly disturbing photo CJ put there.

CJ - mildly to extremely disturbing phitos of shit she shouldn't have photos of. Freddie is enabling it.

Claudine - picture of saint she likes. Well, for about four hours until Ivy gets hold of her phone and changes it to her selfie or occasionally a contemporary art piece she likes.

Ivy - changes. Like, all the time. Selfies, cropped fashion pictures, aet collages, stolen art, drunk photos with her friends and/or enemies (not mutually exclusive). (Also, I need you to imagine a photo drunk Ivy and Harry would take.)

Diego - an extremely shitty photo of Bad Apples concert taken by Ginny. He refuses to change it, no matter how much his cousins talk.

#disney descendants #gonna add Rise of Red edition into reblogs. maybe.

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whorediaries-09 · 11 months ago

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SO SORRY TO ADD ANOTHER A OTHER REQUEST :( BUT CAN WE MAYBE HAVE LIKE A SOFT NICE DATE THAT SLOWLY TURNS INTO SMUT WITH RON? PLEASEE? Also hui :3

hi lovey, thank you for sending in the request, hope you like it!

i think he knows; pairing- ronald weasley x reader warning(s)- mentions of war, 18+ content, fluff. a/n- contrary to popular belief, i am in fact quite alive and breathing.

little train.

' he got that boyish look that i like in man, i'm an architect i'm drawing up the plans. '

going on a date after the war was...intimidating, to put it in within a play of a single word. and surely ron wasn't expecting himself to be in a sticky situation with the pretty healer who had tended to his wounds after the traumatizing events. he ran his thumb over the now healed scar.

it'd tell a tale.

he remembered you. he could recall the dullness of worry in your eyes. the shine of hope in your eyes. even if your hair was matted with blood and rubble, you were the diesel to the fire that so timidly burned. the bruise under your eye was fresh, deep blue blackening, a shard of glass hanging from your chin.

he wish he could paint the blue golden.

with the last tug at the leather strap of the watch around his wrist, he decided he'd get the flowers. it would add a nice touch, a 'gentlemanly effect', he liked to think. even if it did seem to be a bit cliche. perhaps he thought of the smile on your face when you got the flowers (he was hopeful that you liked flowers). or perhaps he was just afraid of the aspect of a hormone rushing pregnant ginny hitting him on the head because of his 'less gentlemanly thoughts'

he remembered harry patting his shoulders, throwing out advices. ron rolled his eyes. he recalled when harry was swooning over cho chang, describing his very 'wet' kiss. he kicked harry in the shin, pulling a laugh out of his friend, grumbling harry wasn't much of a 'playboy' either.

so, he found himself standing in the flower shop, having absolutely no ideas about flowers. he watched the half a dozen barely bloomed pink roses being tied together. god forbid you weren't allergic to them. or didn't laugh at him for being too cliched.

he wished hermione had actually written that book about girls.

it was fruitful, his attempt to choose the flowers. he'd recognized it from the shine in your eyes and the beautiful curve adorned on your lips. he'd found you beautiful when you were on the brink of death, disguised as a savior, so heaven sent. but now, when you held his hand, touching the scar you'd mended, talking away about stuff he couldn't really catch up on, your hair smelling like something so desirable, he found you breathtaking. he was mesmerized by you.

you felt like a forbidden treasure, the diesel to the fire in his heart that raged it's flames ever so timidly.

you'd liked the flowers. ron silently thanked the gods that you weren't allergic. you liked a lot of things, he learnt. cats, photography, literature, music, and a good fuck... was amongst the few things you liked. he was sure you'd said that intentionally just to pull out a reaction. the evil trick was recognized by the pretense innocent mischievousness in your eyes.

he was glad he coughed the drink in his mouth instead of spitting it right onto your face. you'd smiled, throwing him a dirty wink, twirling the straw of lemonade with your tongue. the dim carnival light angled your features, bringing out the best of your bone structure.

'well, to put it correctly, i enjoy a good fuck...' you said, after ron had recovered from his coughing haze. he wiped the edge of his lips, a nd putting on his best front, he responded,

'well then i can promise you an enjoyable time with me sweetheart,'

it was said with an awkward stance, a constant shift of octaves. but it still made you flush as the flame of the fire of his burning heart tickled your skin. you'd be his fuel, his diesel. you'd be his muse, the tale he recite.

by the time it was time to leave you by the doorstep, the sky dizzied itself across the luminated street scattered with gravel. his fingers were melted within the crevices of yours, fit snug like a puzzle. he liked the way you laughed, the way your voice did throbbed so serenely against his eardrums while narrating tales, the way your eyes lit up against the dim lighting. 'liked' would be an understatement.

for the first time in his life, he was thankful for his freckles. he hoped they hid the flush of his pale skin.

'you're...kind,' you stated, shimmying on your tiptoes.

'hmm... why do you say so, sweetheart?' he asked.

'i know you live on the other side of town, and you came by to drop me...' a stupid line pops up in his head, but he doesn't say anything. he almost bites his lip to not let his boyish thought control his action. so, he smiles.

and lingers. holding your hand. the distance between him and you isn't much, the little roof over the entrance of your house providing him the needed protection from rain.

he can feel your breathe upon his already warm skin. it excruciates his patience. it plays with his senses, the sweet fragrance of petrichor infused with a scent, that reeks of you. it's blissful.

still, like the boyish man he is, he does nothing. he lingers, letting a silence wrap the little bubble of tranquility. it's comforting, in a strange way. he can't figure out what to do, when the sound of the rain, the running vehicles and the croaking frogs blur, when he feels your fingers tighten around his.

your lips lingers a little too close to his, planting a soft kiss on his cheek. or rather the side of his mouth. his mind reels when you place forward your request, your thought.

'the rain won't stop. not now anyways.' you whisper, lips brushing his earlobe. he doesn't recognize what takes over him within the click of your doorknob and the placement of your hand on his waist, as you pull him towards you.

but he enjoys it, the sudden rush of hormones. it's quick, it's something he's not felt for a long time. so long, it almost feels foreign. perhaps, it is. it's a warmth he's never felt, no never in his teenage years has he ever felt the need of touch. he's never realized the need, he thinks.

it's maddening, your touch all over his body when he finally crashes his mouth with yours, pushing you against the unlocked door of your house. he stumbles as you grab your neck, breathlessly cradling your cheek within the crevice of his palm. the scar you'd fixed touches the one on your chin.

it's a tale to be kept silent, to be a concealed message. like a string of fate, perhaps.

his teeth nips softly at the bare skin of your neck, your back pressed against the cold wall of your house. he feels the heat radiate off your body, moans leaving your mouth. your name rolls of his tongue as your fingers pull his hair, pulling his face away from your neck.

'is this okay?' he asks, concerned. he thinks he's fucked it up, by jumping on your bones. to his relief, you smile,

'it's...more than okay. can we go to the bedroom please?'

'sure, sweetheart. whatever makes you comfortable.'

you've got your hair tangled up in his ginger locks. the moans spilling from your throat echoes through against the walls of your bedroom. his lips aren't on yours, as much as he'd love to taste your moans and sounds, your noise is honey-dripping gold in his eardrums.

his cock plunges deep within you, till your room loses the smell of your sandalwood candles. it reeks of sex and skin, the physical intimate bond of unheard individuals. it reeks of something magical, a golden desire painting over deep blue bruises.

it's fueling, to feel his touch on your skin. it diesels the fire that ignites within you when he snaps his hips against yours. the sound of his gasps, your moans, and skin slapping fills the room. you roll your eyes, as he thrusts himself angled perfectly so as to hit your sweet spot. you see white, moaning his name,

'fuck please, ron right there,'

his silver chain dangles over your lips. you wrap your lips around it, bringing his face closer. he gasps, his finger slipping between your connected bodies. his calloused thumb rubs over your stimulated clit, making you arch your hips, searching for more friction.

'you're making me feel so good, sweetheart,' he moans as you clench your walls around his girth. the coil building in your stomach drives your to the edge of your sanity.

'yeah?' you whisper back, half heaving, half controlling your urge to scream. it's heavenly, the combination of his perfect thrusts, the rubbing of his finger against your clit. you wrap your legs around his body, pulling him closer, to feel him, to touch him.

his girth plunges in you, and you feel your coil unraveling through you, your thighs shaking as the orgasm bubbles over the brink. it's pure heavenly insanity, a break through from the scorching insatiable desire for him.

you feel him release within you, wrecking your guts. your orgasm paints his abs, as his lump body falls over yours, his weight dead. he hides his face into your neck, smiling. the tranquil silence settles, carving a little bubble of comfort. neither of you hear the rain pattering against the gravel.

perhaps, truly it was just an excuse. excuse for a fate, for a destiny. to rebound broken strings of souls.

'you don't break promises do you?' you ask, laughing.

****************************************************

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