#home is where the hart is

[makiitoh]

IT’S TIME TO COME HOMEEEEE

[whitehartlane]

"You were never leaving Tottenham, were you? [...] I've said this before, but when I left I went to QPR, Portsmouth, Aston Villa, Norwich on loan, Southampton, Liverpool, Portsmouth again and I came back to Tottenham and Ledley was in the same place I'd left him."

THAT LEDLEY KING EPISODE with Peter Crouch, Chris Stark, and Steve Sidwell

[blossom--of--snow]

“Max in Love,” that episode where they’re just…not concerned about all their shit getting stolen but they’re VERY concerned about their father

[wthifdn]

Did you know that Briar named Where the Hart Is specifically with their late grandparents in mind?

Their grandfather and abuela were Briar’s second set of parents, offering Briar a sense of home and stability at all times, and especially when things at home were a bit rocky.

The couple were the definite patriarch and matriarch of the family, with strong values and warm hearts. Their home was the center of every holiday, and the safe base for their children when they couldn’t make ends meet elsewhere.

Papa was an incredibly smart, wise, compassionate man. There are many stories about him doing things like chatting with a phone operator when lines were jammed on New Year’s Eve (before cell phones, of course) and making sure she was still having a good evening despite work, to exaggerations about him having read the entire dictionary, because he read books like fish drink water, and every time he came across a word he didn’t know, he would look it up, and then make an effort to incorporate it into his everyday vocabulary.

He would have been 84 today, and we like to think he’d be very proud of everything Briar’s done, and everything Where the Hart Is is setting out to do.🥹❤️

🏡🪷✨

[deadman-is-a-moron]

Ok last post about Agatha All Along (maybe) but I wanna admire how the town just let Agatha do her curse bullshit for 3 years and even took care to deliver her groceries. Like the scene where Agnes yells in the library was real and Dotty just had to entertain her. When the chief told her to go home? Yeah that was probably real he just needed this senile woman to return home. Even Sharon/Hart was kind enough to gently remind her of her real name.

They probably thought Agatha tried to save them from Wanda and decided the least they could do was take care of their nosey and occasionally delusional neighbor.

[vidals-harkness]

hey! Could I make a request of more agathario as users mothers? Reader goes with Agatha on the witches road and they reunite with mami Rio? And reader is young? Thanks!🤍

hola mi vida (agatha harkness, rio vidal)

summary: when mama takes you with her on the witch’s road, what can she do when you meet your mami again, after all the years of her vanishing?

fic type: fluff

pairings: agatha harkness x child!reader, rio vidal x child!reader

word count: 2.3k

It was just a normal afternoon—the air was calm, quiet, cool with the shy onset of autumn. The park was not deserted, as you sat on the swings, using a stick to trace patterns on the ground. Or rather, Wiccan symbols that the town children always saw you making (and made a point to stay away from you about).

It was only when you skipped home, sage and stick in hand, that you saw the door blown down, a random boy in the hallway all tied up, and your mother going off her rocker.

“Mama?” You questioned, confused.

“No time to talk, hon, grab that bag and let’s get in the car,” she said, pointing at your school bag on a chair.

“But mama we don’t—“ you began, confused, but she simply grabbed your bag, picked you up and whisked you away into the car. Or rather, Teen’s car.

“You trust me?” She asked, buckling you in.

You nodded, fidgeting with your stick. “Mhm,” you hummed.

She smiled and winked, linking her pinky with yours, kissing it gently. “Mama always protects you, okay?”

“Okay,” you giggled.

“So…she’s yours?” Teen asked, pointing at you in the backseat where you sat, playing with some sort of wooden puzzle from your bag.

“No,” Agatha said, sarcastically. “I picked up a random six year old in the park cause I’m a pedophile,”

At his gobsmacked expression, she frowned, irritated, “Of course she’s mine, pet, look! Don’t you see the resemblance?”

You look at Teen through the rearview mirror and smiled angelically. Apart from maybe your facial structure you took after Rio more than her.

“Doesn’t matter, just drive,” she sighed, irritated.

The first stop was Lilia’s house, which seemed like a nice place. Except the energy felt a little too buzzed for your liking.

“Alright hon, you don’t talk unless I tell you to, okay?” Agatha said, kneeling at your level, a smile on her face. “And if Mama makes a silly voice, you don’t question it,”

You nodded, smiling at her. “Okay, mama!”

“That’s my girl,” she said, pinching your cheek gently, standing up and putting her hair in a bun before wrapping a shawl around her shoulders.

The place was as odd as its energy, with you disliking the sound of clattering beads from the bead curtain, hand holding your favourite stick (rather a crooked wand Agatha didn't use anymore).

"Welcome to the curious," said Lilia, appearing from the back room.

You looked at the lady, frowning, "You're kooky,"

"Now, now, sweetheart, we ain't rude to the nice lady," Agatha spoke in a thick Southern accent. "Good day, madam, Oh. Thank you so much for seein’ us. We are hopin’ for a miracle today,"

You looked at Agatha weirdly, confused with her accent. She never talked like this usually...did she?

"This is my boy, Beauford, and my princess Charlotte here," she smiled, pointing at you both. When Teen went to protest, she shut him up, "He doesn’t talk much. He’s got social anxiety. Their daddy recently passed, and we miss him somethin’ awful."

A long while and several witches later, you stood in Agatha's basement with the other witches, happily vibing with their rendition of the Ballad. However, just as the door made itself known, the Salem Seven crashed into the house, Teen coming downstairs in a flurry of panic to scoop you up and dash down the Road's entrance.

The first trial passed, with only one casualty--Mrs. Davis, but it left you mostly shaken up. You had never seen so many witches hallucinate single-handedly before.

The forest was quiet, the only sound being that of the shovel scraping the ground as Teen dug a grave for Mrs. Hart.

You knelt next to the dead woman, tilting your head as you peered at her, poking her with your stick gently.

“Mama?” You asked, looking at Agatha. “Mama, she feels very not-alive,”

“Yeah hon,” she smiled, side-eyeing Jen. “Because Jen didn’t give her enough antidote so she is now not-alive,”

“Are you really badmouthing me to a six year old, Agatha?” Jen deadpanned. “How petty can you be?”

“Very, apparently,” Lilia rolled her eyes.

“Kooky lady is correct,” you nodded, earning a snicker from Alice.

“I’m not kooky!” Lilia scowled at you, only to receive an angelic smile in return.

You hummed to yourself as you walked around the clearing while the adults and Teen argued.

At the mention of an incomplete coven, you tugged at Agatha’s sleeve, asking softly, “Mrs. Hart wasn’t a witch, so if this is the Witch’s Road, can’t you call for a green witch?”

“Yes, thank you, little one!” Teen said, pointing at you. “How does a six year old have more brains than you all combined?”

“People have told me I’m something called ‘insightful’,” you shrugged.

“More like irritating,” Lilia scowled, looking at you.

“She isn’t the one bickering like a bunch of old ladies, is she?” Agatha shrugged. “Now come on, we have a spell to cast. Vamonos,”

You skipped after her, excitedly, helping her map out the person shape on the ground with your stick.

“Am I helping nice, mama?” You asked her, grinning proudly.

She nodded, fixing the outline, kneeling at the border of it. “Oh absolutely, sweet girl. The most helpful out of all these idiots,”

You smiled angelically, making her mutter, “You sure as hell didn’t get that smile from me, that’s for sure,”

As the witches gathered to start their spell, you stood with them—young magic was the most effective, honestly.

“May she be strong and wise, and the best at her craft,” said Lilia, placing down a crystal.

“May she be smart and not annoying,” said Agatha, placing another thing down, adding, “And also, not super political,”

“May she be pleasant looking,” said Jen, wrinkling her nose.

“Can she bring some Advil?” Alice sighed, placing her crystal down.

“Can she annoy the kooky lady?” You asked as Agatha tapped your shoulder to put your offering down. “May she be…fun,”

“I’m not kooky!” Lilia snapped at you.

“Are too!” You giggled, sticking your tongue out at her.

“Y/n, for the love of god just behave,” Agatha sighed. “I can’t deal with this right now,”

“Now what?” Teen interjected.

“Now we wait,” said Lilia. “True witchcraft takes time. The spell must marinate, gestate—“

She was interrupted by a hand sticking out of the mud behind you all, causing a scream to erupt from everyone.

Agatha shoved you back, arms out protectively as you giggled excitedly at the sight.

“Agatha, what did you do?!” Jen exclaimed.

“What do you mean, what did I do? This was very clearly a group effort!” She protested.

“It’s so silly!” You squealed, laughing at the cracking noises the witch’s bones made as she emerged from the ground.

“Your kid is a psycho like you!” Jen said, judging you as you laughed like this was a particularly funny episode of Bluey.

“She’s got character!” Agatha retorted sharply.

“Oh, my God, did we turn Mrs. Hart into a zombie?” Teen exclaimed.

“What spell did we cast?” Alice cried out.

Panicked and looking into Teen’s spell book. “Why is the print so small?” She wailed.

The witch righted herself, and you peeked from behind Agatha, intrigued and suddenly elated to see who it was.

Mami.

“MAMI!” You squealed, about to run to Rio, happy beyond belief.

“Heard you guys were having a party?” Rio gasped. She looked over at you, winking, “Hola nena,”

“How did you…” Agatha breathed, horrified, keeping you back despite your indignant squirming.

“I was in the neighborhood,” she gasped, opening her palm to reveal a flower. “Surprise. My lady,”

Agatha snatched the flower, screamed, and tried to attack her, but everyone held her back, Jen and Alice keeping her in check.

“We just summoned her!”

“We need her,”

As Agatha stormed off, Teen followed. You didn’t care about her little temper tantrum. It wasn’t the first you’d seen her have.

You were more concerned about Rio.

She was your Mami, the one who would play pranks on Agatha with you, the one who could calm you down in even the worst meltdowns, the one who accompanied you to the park every time the bullying got bad. Your Mami.

You hugged her tightly. She smelt the same, she felt the same. She was soft, she was the comforting kind of cold. She smelt like earth and old books and cinnamon, a scent so familiar that it made you bury your face into her robe to simply take in her scent.

“Nena,” she laughed. “You got so big,”

“I’m six, mami!” You gave her a broad grin, looking up at her.

“I guess we know now where the psycho comes from,” Jen muttered.

“Hey, what’s up, I’m Rio,” she said, nodding at them, still holding you close.

The three gave her a quiet, somewhat terrified and awkward greeting, before she gave them a cheeky grin and went after Agatha.

“So what do you think, can we trust her?” Alice asked.

“Agatha hates her, I’d say that goes in the ‘pro’ column,” Lilia shrugged.

“I mean…the kid thinks she’s legit,” Alice noted.

“The kid’s as psycho as she is,” Lilia scoffed. “Like calls to like and all that,”

“You’re just salty cause she calls you kooky,” Alice grinned.

“I’m not!”

Meanwhile, you walked with Rio, playing with her fingers gently as you talked her ears off.

The conversation eventually took a serious turn as you both paused and waited for the others.

“Mami,” you said, kicking a stone as you walked with her. “Mami, why did you leave me and go? Did I do something? Did mama? Did Nicky?”

Rio sighed. She knew this question was inevitable. She couldn’t avoid it, she knew that.

She stopped and knelt to your height, holding your arms in a gentle grip, making the others pause in their tracks.

Her voice was so soft, so gentle. “Mira, mi amor,” she said softly. “Sometimes…things happen which can’t be fixed unless one person removes themselves from the equation. It was not yours or Nicky’s fault, alright?”

She sensed your apprehension. An apprehension that broke her heart because she didn’t want to leave. She had to. She had no choice.

“Is it a grown up thing?” You whispered, voice barely audible.

“It is, nena,” she nodded. “But you’re still a little girl, you’re small. You won’t understand even if I explained it simply. I want you, my smart, sweet girl, to know that mami going away was not your fault,”

She thought before adding, “I am sorry for leaving, though. Mi vida, lo siento,”

It made you feel better, indeed. “It’s okay, Mami,” you smiled. “I’m happy you’re with me now,”

She grinned and scooped you up, putting you in her shoulders deftly, making you squeal with happiness. There she was, fun Mami. Your Mami.

“Come on now, let’s make some trouble,” she grinned up at you, winking. “Mami’s not going anywhere anytime soon,”

“What if I get hurt?” You asked quietly.

“Then mami’s always here to protect you,” she grinned, squeezing your hand gently.

You nodded, trusting her words.

The Road was long and it was hard.

But maybe things wouldn’t be too bad.

Mami and Mama protected you. Always.

hi hi my bao buns! i hope you enjoyed it! it was quite long, i must say, haha. do request more and i’m working on the rest currently!

[sserafics]

VALENTINE — henry h. x fem reader

use of y/n, reader is rays niece, enemies to lovers? fluff, set in s4-5, 2nd person pov

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ (heavily inspired by s3 e1 of game shakers!)

your eyes scan the room as you stand in the kitchen of the hart’s home, unsure of why you’re even here.

your gaze drifts to your uncle, who is of course, flirting with henry’s mom. oh right, he brought you here, claiming you need to “socialize more and leave the man cave more often.” though it’s obvious he just wanted you to come so he could have an excuse to hit on henry’s mom. since this party is mostly teenagers, it’d be odd if a grown man just showed up alone. so, that’s why you’re here.

you sigh before taking a sip from the cola in your hand, glancing around to see the familiar faces surrounding you. piper, who threw this godforsaken valentine’s day party, charlotte, aaaand… henry. he’s talking to some girl, who you know is named valarie, but that’s about it.

an odd feeling bubbles up in your stomach at the sight of her leaning closer to him, laughing flirtatiously.

you scoff and turn away, trying not to think of the scene unfolding before you, but your gaze keeps moving back to them, the sight making your stomach twist in a way you’re unfamiliar with. you decide after a moment of watching to just leave. it’s not like your uncle is going to notice anyway, he’s too busy flexing his muscles for henry’s mom.

as you walk to the front door, you hear the sound of henry’s laugh ring through the music, making you roll your eyes at the flutter you felt in your stomach after hearing his laugh.

the cool air of the night hits your face as you step outside, grabbing your phone from your bag and opening the uber app, scheduling one. it arrives almost immediately, and you get in the car.

you look up as you settle in the backseat of the car, about to tell the driver where you need to go, but the sight shocks you. no driver? you’re about to speak, when a voice, monotonous and robot like, rings out.

“welcome to your self driving car, what is your destination?”

“oh, uhm.. just take me to junk n’ stuff.” you reply, still a bit weirded out by this car, but still you divert your attention to your phone, still trying to get your mind off of the scene at the party. the car begins driving.

“yeah, so i’m thinking ‘bout starting a band-“ henry began, talking to another girl who just arrived at the party.

charlotte suddenly rushes to him, her phone in her hand and her eyes wide. “henry! y/n needs help!” she shows him her phone, where a text from you reads that your uber is a self driving car and is out of control. the text also reads to send your uncle, not henry.

he resists the urge to scowl at the last part of your text, before excusing himself from the girl he was talking to and rushing to the front porch, popping a gumball and transforming into kid danger.

“damn it, y/n.” he mumbles before pulling his phone out and scrolling to find your contact, calling you.

“opening sunroof.” the robotic voice of the car speaks.

“what?- i didn’t even mention the sunroof-“ you blurt out, your voice tinged with panic as the car swerves, narrowly missing an old woman who was for some reason, walking in the middle of the street.

“y/n! just tell me when you’re about to pass swellview junior high!” henry’s voice rings out from your phone, reminding you he’s on the phone.

“what? oh- uh- yeah, i’m about to pass it now-!” you reply, trying your best to look out the windows to see where you are, but the car is speeding too fast to really tell.

a thump on the top of the car makes you yelp, accidentally dropping your phone onto the seat next to yours.

“i’m fine, actually!” you shout when you see henry on top of the car, peeking in through the sunroof to try and make out what’s going on inside. the jealousy from seeing him with valarie earlier bubbling up again.

“oh really? because it looks like your stuck in an out of control car, so.” he retorts sarcastically, sounding equally as annoyed as you do. you scoff but it quickly turns into a gasp when he drops down into the car, landing in the front seat.

“jesus! a warning would be nice next time!” you yell, glaring at the back of his head.

“yeah, okay, i’ll keep that in mind for the next time you get stuck in a self driving car!”

he tries to take control of the car, gripping the steering wheel, but the car jolts to the opposite side.

“don’t touch my wheel.” the car rings out in that same, robot like voice, jerking the car to the side again.

“come on-!” he murmurs, still trying to gain control of the car, but to no avail.

“closing sunroof.”

“what?- i didn’t even mention the sunroof-!” he exclaims, utterly confused.

“she’s obnoxious! just stop the car!!” you shout, holding onto the passenger seat in front of you for dear life, suddenly wondering why you didn’t put your seatbelt on.

he groans and pulls out his phone, scrolling and finding schwoz’s contact, quickly pressing call.

“are you seriously making a call right now-?” you ask, irritation lacing your voice.

“i need absolute silence.” he cuts you off, holding a hand up while he silently prays that schwoz will pick up.

“are you serio-“ you began but cut yourself off when schwoz’s voice spoke from his phone.

henry quickly explains what’s happening, his voice panicked. he puts the phone call on speaker phone, placing the phone on the dashboard.

“open up the front panel,” schwoz deadpans, his voice slightly muffled as if he’s eating on the other line. typical.

henry easily pops open the front panel, using some sort of gadget from the man cave, as usual.

“okay, it’s open- now what?”

“look for a red wire.”

“what?! there’s all kinds of red wires, man-“ henry tries to keep the car steady on the road— while also trying to figure out which red wire he’s supposed to be looking for, but the car suddenly swerves to the left, practically throwing you against the window.

henry’s head snaps back to you, noticing your wide eyes and he realizes he’s not going to be able to stop the car this way. he mumbles something under his breath and then moves to the back seat, sitting next to you.

“protect your eyes!” he tells you, reaching into his pocket and grabbing his laser.

“protect my eyes? what- why?-“ you began, but before you could finish, he pulled you against him and hid your face in his chest, making sure to cover his own face as he used his laser to zap at the front panel repeatedly, effectively short circuiting the car.

immediately after, he lets go of you and leans forward, taking hold of the steering wheel, making sure to guide the car to the side of the road as it slowly stops, letting out a sigh of relief after. he slumps against the back seat, panting.

…

an awkward silence fills the car as you fiddle with your bag, tracing one of the straps with your finger. the atmosphere feels tense yet oddly serene, the arguments that usually surround you two absent in the moment.

“why’d you come?” you ask after a while, your voice quieter than usual.

a beat passes without an answer.

“ray was too busy hitting on my mom.” he speaks after a while, glancing out the window awkwardly. that’s not the reason, and you both know it.

he transforms back to his regular self, the pop of his bubble gum causing you to turn back to look at him, suddenly becoming acutely aware of how close he’s sitting to you. your arms are brushing against one another, his face now fully exposed without his kid danger mask.

you reach for the door, hoping to get out of this awkward moment, but it doesn’t open. you sigh.

turning back to face him, you finally decide to vocalize the question that’s been lingering in your mind since you saw him at the party earlier.

“who’s valarie?”

he blinks, looking confused before smiling smugly, which makes you groan, turning away and facing the window again.

“we used to go to camp together, years ago.” he replies, though you can practically hear the smirk on his lips. “why? you jealous?”

you scoff and finally realize where you are. outside of his house again. of course, all of this trouble and you’re not even at junk n’ stuff.

“y/n.”

the serious tone in his voice makes you turn back to look at him. you opened your mouth to speak, but before you could, he cups your cheek and leans in, pausing just before your lips meet, as if to give you an out if you don’t want this. you meet his gaze before leaning in, your lips connecting in a kiss.

it was a short, sweet kiss, yet it felt like it lasted centuries. he pulls back slowly and you open your eyes to see him already looking at you, forehead pressed against yours gently.

“happy valentines day, y/n.”

(a/n) ahhh i finally wrote my first fic!! this took me so long but i like how it turned outtt, i feel like the ending might’ve been a little ooc for him and it kinda sucked 😞 but it’s almost midnight so im posting it 🤞🏻anyway thanks for reading!! it was pretty long so sorry abt that 😭

[misctf]

Reversal Agents II: Going Back

Hey! I felt like making a sequel to the The Reversal Agents. Similar concept, similar characters, but instead with an inanimate tf focus. Hope you enjoy and please dm with any story requests!

“Wh-where am I?”

It was so bright. He could make out blurry shadows- people shuffling around him. He could hear voices.

“He’s awake!”

“Sir, can you tell us your name?”

It was all so much. The hard floor on his back. The blinding lights shining in his face. He moved his arm and looked at his hand. His hand? He stared at it, slowly moving his fingers. It felt foreign to him. The sensation was strange and unfamiliar, so he lowered his arm and continued to look around.

“Sir, can you tell us your name?” The voice was more forceful now.

“Tim Hoffer.” He whispered. It was hard to talk. His mouth was dry, “Where... where...” It was getting hard to talk again. And he couldn’t feel his fingers.

“His form isn’t stable!” Someone shouted.

“Stabilizers! Stat!”

Tim could feel someone press something onto his chest and he felt dizzy. The world around him spun and he fell unconscious. From the viewing room, Detective Hart and Detective Philips watched the scene unfold. Hart frowned and turned to the senior detective.

“Stabilizers?” He asked, “Why...”

“Some transformations linger.” Philips interjected, “Especially these inanimate ones for whatever reason. We often use these to prevent reversions.” They watched Tim closely, “Usually the stabilizers come off sooner rather than later. We just follow-up with them closely.”

“Poor kid.” Hart commented.

Philips chuckled, “Could you imagine? Six months as a pair of underwear?”

“Show some sympathy. It’s not funny.” Hart replied, earning him a curious look from his superior.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist.” Philips replied. He took a deep breath, “Come on, we’ll let the professionals handle this. I want to go home and that paperwork won’t finish itself.”

_____________________

It still felt strange. The warmth of his own skin. Moving his arms and legs. Talking. He shuddered. The memories were still somewhat hazy. There was a baseball game. Against their university’s main rival. Big game, huge crowd. His girlfriend cheering him on. He stepped up to bat. Hit the game winning homerun. It was incredible- the memory caused him to smile. But afterwards, it got hazy. He stayed behind to talk to coach- everyone else left. After their talk, he started heading back to his dorm to meet his girlfriend. There was a huge party planned. But he was jumped by Tyler, the rival team’s catcher. He pulled out what looked like a gun... and then...

“Tim?”  

Tim looked away from the window and in the direction of Detective Hart. He sighed. It had been a few weeks since his reversal. And the Department of Affairs Related to Transformation set up several follow-up sessions for him to talk things through. Hart, for his part, enjoyed this part of the job. He could do more to help the victims of forced transformations.

“Sorry, just a bit distracted.” Tim replied.

Hart raised an eyebrow, “I know it’s been a tough few weeks. Getting back into your normal routine...”

“It’s not just that.” He sighed, “I... Sometimes...” He looked away, “It’s nothing.”

Hart looked at him quizzically. But Tim maintained his poker face. How could he tell Hart that he sometimes missed his time as a pair of underwear? Yeah, it was terrifying at first. He hated it. He hated how his face was pressed against his tormentor’s cock. How his body was stretched across his massive muscular ass. The protein farts, the sweat, the days his captor jerked off into him. But as he lost track of the days, it became easier to accept that he was just underwear. No worries, no thoughts, just unwashed and used.

“It’s okay.” Hart replied, “We’ll continue to work through this. And remember, if you ever need me, you can call.”

_____________________

If there was anything Tim continued to enjoy, it was going to the gym. And with college starting again soon and the baseball season, he wanted to stay in shape. Today was leg day and he was trying his best to focus on his squats. As he looked up after finishing a set though, he couldn’t help but stare at the man bench pressing in the corner. Or more specifically, the bulge in his tight gym shorts. The man was around his age and built. His shirt drenched in sweat. When he saw Tim looking at him, he flashed him a smile. Tim blushed and went back to his squats.

‘God damn it.’ He thought, ‘Why does this keep happening?’

Following his transformation, it seemed that he developed a sexual preference for men. A week after his transformation was reversed, he attempted to reconnect with his girlfriend. But when their date night got to the bedroom, it was less than enjoyable for both of them. He couldn’t get hard. Despite years of being together and never having an issue, he just couldn’t. They broke up soon after. But maybe it was a one off thing. He desperately watched the porn vids that always worked for him, and similarly had no such luck. But when he thought about men... particularly, their muscular thighs and their sweaty cocks, he had no issue getting off. Tim jumped when he felt a tap on his shoulder.

“I’ll be in the last shower stall.” The man said.

Tim nodded and watched as the hunk walked towards the locker room. He felt his heart pound in his chest. It had been so long since he did anything with anyone. And he resisted his urge to actually do anything with a guy. But... it had been so long. Tim entered the locker room and did just what the guy had told him too. He stripped down to nothing and entered the shower stall, finding the other man there, naked.

“I saw you checking me out.” The guy said with a grin.

But Tim didn’t really hear anything. He was focused more on the man’s erect cock. Tim was soon on his knees, his hands feeling the man’s thighs and ass. All the while, the man was rubbing his cock against Tim’s face.

“Yeah, you like that, don’t you?” The man said, “Come on, you fucking slut.”

A part of Tim felt horrified. He felt dirty and wrong. A few months ago, he would’ve never done something like this. Never. But as he licked along the man’s shaft, tasting the glistening sweat, he shuddered with pleasure. It was so familiar, so right. He slowly swallowed the man’s cock, wrapping his arms around the man’s muscular ass. This felt right. This was right. He bobbed up and down on the man’s cock, causing him to moan. Yeah, just an object. Just to be used. He felt the man’s cock start to throb and he knew what was coming. And as the man came down his throat, Tim was filled with pleasure- it was so familiar. It reminded him of all the days his captor would cum on his fabric face. But that feeling soon dissipated and the weight of what he just did hit him like a ton of bricks.

“Fuck...” The man sighed, “You wanna exchange...”

But Tim had fled. He quickly got back into his clothes and headed towards the locker room exit. He could feel tears welling up in his eyes- this wasn’t right, this was wrong. He wasn’t...

“Tim?” Tim’s eyes widened when he heard a familiar voice. Detective Hart was looking at him, dressed in nothing but a pair of tight underwear, “Hey, are you...?”

But again, Tim didn’t really hear anything he was saying. Instead, he was focused on the bulge in Hart’s underwear. He knew Hart was on the younger side, maybe a few years out of college, but he never saw him nearly naked. His muscles were lean. His ass firm. His underwear... Tim felt jealous of it... And he felt a strange affection for the detective.

“Tim?”

“I-I’ll see you later!” Tim said, fleeing from the locker room.

_____________________

Tim was lying in his bed, his hand wrapped around his cock. Ever since returning from the gym, he couldn’t get the image of Hart out of his head. But even more, he couldn’t help but feel jealous of the underwear tightly wrapped around his cock. Tim cursed and ran a hand through his hair. Why did it have to be like this? Why did he miss being used underwear? He moaned when he thought about the first night Tyler jerked off into him. Tyler had pawed at his cock through Tim’s fabric face. At first he hated it, but night after night, multiple times per day, he anticipated it. Felt excited. It was his purpose.

“Fucking hell.” He whispered. He stared at the stabilizer on his chest and sighed, “No.” He whispered. He grabbed his phone and called Detective Hart. He needed to talk with him, “Hey, can I come talk to you? I know it’s real late, but I really need to... Yes... thank you so much, I’ll be right over.”

When Tim arrived at Hart’s apartment, he was sweating and his heart was pounding. Hart greeted him and the two men were sitting on the sectional in the living room. Hart was looking at him, worry in his eyes.

“So you wanted to talk?” Hart asked.

“I... I’m having a hard time.” Tim whispered, “I sometimes miss it. I miss being underwear.” Tim felt a weight leave him as he admitted his truth, “Ever since the transformation reversed, I just...”

“This isn’t uncommon.” Hart replied, “And I want you to know its normal.” He reassured, “I’ve been learning a lot about inanimate transformations, especially cases similar to yours. It usually takes a bit, but things will start to normalize more as time goes on.”

Tim nodded, feeling comforted by Hart’s words, “I... that does make me feel better.” He whispered. He sighed, “I need to splash some water on my face.”

Tim stared at himself in the bathroom mirror and took a deep breath. Maybe... maybe everything would be okay. He just needed to stay strong. He could go back to his life... maybe rekindle with his girlfriend. Life would be okay.

But then he saw it. Thrown and discarded in the corner of the bathroom was a pair of Hart’s underwear. Tim felt his heart pounding as he bent over and picked it up. The smell was intoxicating. Sweaty, manly musk filled his nostrils. The fabric in his hand was so soft. He shuddered and looked at himself in the mirror. There he was. Tim Hoffer. College baseball jock. Business Administration major. Good grades, attractive, smart. There he was- ravenously rubbing his face in another man’s underwear. He frowned as he removed his shirt and stared at the stabilizer on his chest. And without another thought, he pulled it off.

_____________________

“Hey Tim, are you okay?” Hart knocked on the bathroom door. It had been a little bit of time, and he grew concerned. He looked at his phone and sighed. He quickly messaged the guy he was planning to hook-up with that he needed to cancel, “Tim, can I...”

But the door opened and Tim was standing there, completely undressed. Hart’s eyes widened at the sight and he quickly took a step back. And that’s when he noticed it. There was no stabilizer on his chest.

“Tim...?”

He hadn’t expected Tim to close the distance between them so fast. Nor did he expect the passionate kiss that followed. Hart broke away and looked at Tim, who smiled at him. His hand was resting against Hart’s slowly growing erection.

“Tim, you... I...”

Tim smiled and again kissed Hart passionately. And this time, the detective reciprocated. The two continued to make-out passionately, with Hart leading him back to the bedroom. Tim’s eyes were wild as he stripped away Hart’s clothes, revealing the toned muscle he had seen earlier. His tongue quickly roamed along the detective’s abs and he shuddered at the sound of Hart’s moans. And when Tim finally made his way down to Hart’s stiff cock, he licked along the length of the shaft, savoring every moment. He looked up at Hart, who’s eyes were shut tight from the pleasure, his mouth open in a silent moan. Tim sighed. He didn’t have much time left. He could feel it in his body. And so, he quickly took the length of Hart’s cock into his eager mouth.

‘Here it goes...’ He thought, a sense of relief filling him.

And just like that first night, he could feel it. He felt his arms move on their own, wrapping around the back of Hart’s waist. And when his hands came together, they began to fuse. At the same time, he could feel his pecs and abs start to vanish, the air in his lungs being forced out as his body flattened. But all the while, he kept Hart’s cock in his mouth, doing his best to provide pleasure even as his body changed. He grunted as his legs fused together and lose their features. His skin was taking on a white hue. And slowly, his body started to shrink. As it did, he felt what had been his abdomen and legs curve upwards along Hart’s taint and fuse with his clasped hands.

‘I feel... it feels...’ Tim’s mind was filling with pleasure. With anticipation. He could feel Hart’s firm ass fill the tight fabric of his new body, ‘Just underwear... underwear...’

And slowly, he felt his face start to flatten out against the detective’s throbbing cock. His handsome features vanishing and shifting into white fabric. And a few moments later, Hart was alone in the room. His throbbing erection tenting in his new underwear. And the horny detective couldn’t help but wrap his hand around his throbbing member- pressing Tim’s face firmly against his cock. And after a few strokes, he came, filling his new underwear with his seed.

_____________________

When Detective Hart woke up the next morning, he yawned and rubbed his cock through his underwear. But the events of the previous night quickly returned to him. He looked down at his cum stained underwear- Tim- and felt his heart pounding. How could he do this? He was supposed to reverse transformations, not engage in them. He quickly threw on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. It was the weekend, so the office shouldn’t be too busy. He could reverse this again. It would be okay. He ran to the office, working up a musky sweat that seeped into Tim’s new form. He tried to ignore how good the soft fabric of Tim’s new body felt against his semi-hard member.

“Come on... come on...” He whispered as he entered his office. He was desperately looking for the key to the reversal chamber.

“Oh Detective Hart, you look a little stressed today.” Hart looked up to see Detective Philips standing at the door to his office, “Tough night?” He gave the detective a knowing look.

“Look, something happened and...”

Philips smiled, “Don’t worry, I won’t say a thing.” He walked over to Hart, “Inanimate transformations... difficult to come back from.” He chuckled, “Sometimes, it awakens their true purpose. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“What are you saying?”

“You wouldn’t be a reversal agent if you didn’t, well...” He smirked and rubbed his growing bulge, “It’s hard to come by good quality underwear. We’ll leave it at that.”

Hart watched as Philips left his office, the smirk never leaving his face. The younger detective sighed and stared at the key to the reversal chamber in his hand. And with another sigh, he put it away.

[golddust-if]

you're a wanted person. that isn't new to you, but after years of working, someone. no. something is after you.

you were taught by the best, your mother, she was an amazing woman but she was too trusting and in the end, that was her downfall. you won't make that mistake. you're a killer, but a righteous one. you kill those who deserve it, the disposable.

with your abnormal abilities, of which only twenty-five percent of the population is gifted with. you can succeed in what she was never able to do, rid the world of sinners.

you work for the slaughterhouse, a bar... with a dark side; in a rowdy part of the city. your mother was the owner but she didn't pass it down to you, she passed it your younger twin siblings. she believed you were far too talented to sit behind a desk, dealing with paperwork.

you've traveled all over the world, exterminating. you've claimed plenty of people, but perhaps this time you went after the wrong one. having no other choice you flee back home, but you aren't safe there either, you never are.

play with a customizable mc [gender (male or female), physical appearance, personality, sexuality]

protect those you care about or turn your back on them when they need you.

romance, befriend, or make enemies between any of the sixteen characters. four gender selectable, six male, and six female.

decide what supernatural ability you were gifted with; telepathy, telekinesis, or teleportation [figure out how to develop it and what other ability you have]

define your mc's signature weapon, fighting style and overall skillset; how you feel about killing, and the supernatural abilities you were gifted with.

this story is rated 18+ for sexual themes, substance (drug and alcohol) use, explicit language, and violence. [more themes might be added later]

the tattoo artist [male or female] [ro] wren price – partner in crime. they've been by your side since you can remember. always with a bright smile and cheeky remarks, you can't think about how your life would look without them. though they act differently with others, more serious, with a glint in their eyes you can't quite figure out. they never look at you like that.

the bodyguard [male] [ro] theodore price – the older brother of your best friend. there's no doubt in your mind that they're related. he's protective over you, although you can't hold that against him as that's what he does for a living. protect people. he's hard to get to know on a deeper level and you can't help but wonder what's going on in his mind.

the detective [female] [ro] rori hayes – now, if you weren't yourself, perhaps you could have been friends with her. but unfortunately for you... she's extremely suspicious of you and set to bring you to justice. she's recently been promoted and she cannot afford to fail, not when her family is counting on her.

the chief deputy sheriff [male] [ro] charles butler – good ole charlie, you're acquainted with each other. he can't say he isn't a little impressed with you. but you're endangering the citizens of his city and that includes his little girl. he may not have any evidence on you but you need to be brought down, and he's going to be the one that books you.

the model [male] [ro] julien ripley – son of the sheriff. he always looks uncomfortable with his own father. he’s never talked to you before and you’re almost positive he has no opinion on you. he’s a very well known face, although you can tell he doesn’t like being stared at and overall talking to anyone. *male mcs only

the journalist [female] [ro] sloane campbell – she's fast alright and always seems to know your moves. too bad she isn't on your side. always trying to announce to the world, where you are and what you're planning to do next. good thing she's overlooked at her job, consistently being handed stories that, even you know, aren't going anywhere.

the bartender [male or female] [ro] hale/hart vaughn – a family friend, and your sister's best friend. with their tantalizing words, they don't know the meaning of being serious. they are quite insufferable and you can't seem to be able to get rid of them. you have a feeling if you did, your own sister would come after you.

the florist [female] [ro] paris graham– at first glance she doesn't appear to be anything special, but that would be wrong. she's a firework waiting to explode and you want to be there when it happens. her work doesn't suit her but you have a feeling, that being a florist isn't all that she does. *female mcs only

the apartment owner [male] [ro] nolan adams – he knows about you and what you do, but he doesn’t give off the feeling of someone who’d go running to tell. you’ve always come back to lay low at his apartment complex when you need to and as long as you pay on time he doesn’t care what you do. 

the actor [female] [ro] ophelia wylie – a face from your past, one you can’t say you particularly enjoy facing again. she seems remorseful for what she did to you, in fact she looks like a completely different person and she’s offering to help you, but for what in exchange… after all, no one gives anything for free.

the crime lord [male] [ro] louis foster – of course you’ve heard of lou, you’d be an idiot if you didn’t. he's tried and failed to recruit you and he never fails. you’ve been warned before, it would be a mistake to make an enemy out of a king.

the informant [male] [ro] vincent sutton – it’s rare to ever see him out, only ever seen accompanying lou. if you had the ability to feel fear, you’d fear him. he shows every sign of being against you, but then again, it seems as if he does that to everyone around him as well. 

the chef [male or female] [ro] mateo/melanie olsen – you see them quite often, as their restaurant is one of your favorites. they always serve you with a smile and if they do know you, they play oblivious. they're just happy to have a customer who enjoys their food.

the doctor [female] [ro] eileen yates – serene and calming, a voice who always knows exactly what to say. she may look innocent but she’s far from it, you’ve known her for years yet you don’t truly know her, for all you know eileen may not even be her name. 

the accountant [female] [ro] felix price – the youngest of the price siblings, she helps out with all the money coming into and out of the slaughterhouse. she’s always been compassionate and reasonable. you can't imagine her hurting a fly.

the rival bar owner [male or female] [ro] kinslee dean – they own a bar just a couple streets down from yours. it’s always been a problem and they’re actively trying to shut down the slaughterhouse. but they’re surprisingly level-headed and want to 'handle' this problem with logic.

the owner of the slaughterhouse [male] archer – your younger brother, he’s honestly kind of a mess. he was not ready for this responsibility but he’s trying. the mischievous boy you grew up with, you don’t know where he is anymore.

the owner of the slaughterhouse [female] iris – your younger sister, she’s always been loud and bold. but she’s changed too, she’s calm and collected. she’s trying her best to help her brother along too.

the sheriff [male] lazlo ripley – a pompous man with nothing else to do but terrorize those he thinks are inferior to him. 

DEMO [Coming Soon]

warning: this story is still under development, all elements are subject to change!!

[8housevenus]

career in astrology

hii everyone, i wanted to talk about where in your birth chart you can see your potential jobs, career, and inflow of money. i will also go over how some of the planets manifest throughout your chart with it.

for starters, you want to look at your midheaven. the sign it is in, and planets you have aspecting it, as well as planets that fall under the 10th house are critically important. your midheaven represents you in the actual work field: 10th house represents the ways we might get there or what specifically speaks to us for our endeavors. check your 2nd house to see viable forms of income, the ways you can attain it, and expectations for your living. 8th house-6th house can also represent work life in terms of 8th (money from others or lended), 6th (work ethic & fixations).

career paths

having aries midheaven, mars in 10th, ascendant trine/conjunct/sextile mars, or mars aspecting the midheaven can make one so driven to have an early start to their career. from personal experience, i know many aries placements that love being successful from an early age. very versatile career options, they love something that they can express their creative style while switching it up as often as can. they can also experience many burn outs and crash outs due to them having more spontaneous bursts of energy rather than consistent prolonged efforts. career paths best for these people would be anything more hands on; military, construction, teacher, social worker, business person, etc. because aries traditionally rules over the head region, these people want to indulge themselves in challenge & help challenge others.

celebrities with aries 10th house: elon musk, franz kafka, angelina jolie, kanye west.

taurus midheaven, venus in 10th, ascendant trine/conjunct /sextile venus, venus aspecting midheaven these people love to make adjustments according to their fashion. they want a career that can show off their etiquette and cleanliness. something about showing themselves off as “perfection” or their arts as perfections makes these people highly intrigued into careers like; cooking/baking, niche businesses, clothing designers, interior designers, artists, singers, and influencers. they have sweet spots for being home made and brought up naturally, they take a while to get to their goals- but they will never lose sight of them.

celebrities with taurus 10th house: jessica alba, blake lively, margot robbie, drake, selena gomez

gemini midheaven, mercury in 10th, ascendant trine/conjunct /sextile mercury, mercury aspecting midheaven would appreciate a lifestyle where they can endlessly express their opinions or concerns on topics. they like having it figured out from a young age. they seem attentive, quick minded, chameleons to the state of the world. they love to communicate everything because they “blend in” so much, they sometimes want to stand out the most. careers that suit these people are; activists/ public speaker, sometimes even temporary jobs resonate better for them, directors, communications, accountant, journalists, authors/illustrators, engineering.

celebrities with gemini in 10th house: kevin hart, brooke shields, kris jenner, madonna.

cancer midheaven, moon in 10th, ascendant trine/conjunct /sextile moon, moon aspecting midheaven makes an individual more emotionally bonded to their careers, they need to do something that coincides with their morals. these people are very receptive in their workforce, willing to give and willing to treat their jobs/careers like it’s their baby. their work really is their life, they want to do careers can genuinely better people; therapist, social worker, nurse, dispatcher, personal assistants, instructors of some field.

celebrities with cancer in 10th house: jimmy carter, leonardo dicaprio, denzel washington, john f kennedy, kendrick lamar.

leo midheaven, sun in 10th, ascendant trine/conjunct/sextile sun, sun aspecting midheaven creates a vibrant person, one who shines through their careers. they must have a career they truly enjoy and can encapsulate their essence. they want to be seen for what they do, and oftentimes they are noticed. they get applause a lot in their jobs, certificates, something where they can make a statement. they would preferably settle in careers that are bold; actors, musicians, public speakers, influencers, athletes.

celebrities with leo in the 10th: janet jackson, katy perry, diego costa, harry styles, diego maradona, lana del rey.

virgo midheaven, mercury in 10th, ascendant trine/conjunct/sextile mercury, mercury aspecting midheaven makes one very peculiar about their field. they like to serve, aid, and assist. many like to do the work that no one else does, it makes them feel productive and extremely useful as they are. usually likes to go for health related, science related, or anything physically related as their careers. this can include; nurse, doctor, surgeon,, scientist, dentistry, athlete, physical therapist. anything where they can contribute to perplexing subjects, they are really drawn to.

celebrities with virgo in 10th house: usian bolt, joe biden, bruce lee, nelson mandela, neymar, thomas edison.

libra midheaven, venus in 10th, ascendant trine/conjunct/sextile venus, venus aspecting midheaven makes a person more inclined to pursue a career with legal systems, politics, anywhere where equity lies. they believe their belief system is their biggest power, their fairness serves as admirability from others, can be very well liked in public space & looked up to. because of the venus influence, they appear very alluring in their careers. seems like naturalists to being effortlessly out there. can also be benefitted from others giving them money simply for little things. careers that libra midheaven can excel in; lawyer, political figure, micro influencer, model, police officer, actress, principals, managers.

celebrities with libra in 10th house: princess diana, ronaldo, kylie jenner, parison hilton, messi, malcolm x.

scorpio midheaven, pluto/mars in 10th, ascendant trine/sextile/conjunct mars or pluto, pluto aspecting ascendant makes an individual go for more darker careers- in the sense that they can dig deep into their and other’s psyche. they want to understand things that are deemed impossible, unsolvable, mysterious. they are drawn in by odds stacked against them. they are motivated by struggle & challenge. one where their path has life & death really coincide. careers that these people are suited for are; detectives, psychologists, analysts for their endeavors, forensic scientist, surgeon, police, psychics.

celebrities with scorpio in 10th: ariana grande, obama, megan fox, nicki minaj, kobe bryant, selena quintanilla, sza.

sagittarius midheaven, jupiter in 10th, ascendant trine/sextile/conjunct jupiter, jupiter aspecting ascendant is somebody who wants to expand in their careers, go further, likely to get a masters or bachelors. education is so important to them, the more they know the better. they love to try new things, new places, meet new people. they can become extremely abundant by their work and want to share some of their wisdom to the world. always want to subliminally teach something. careers for these people that suit them are; pilots, flight attendants, journalist, realtor, religious teacher, priest, social worker.

celebrities with sagittarius in 10th: michael jackson, abraham lincoln, hozier, jenna ortega, deepak chopra, nispey hussle.

capricorn midheaven, saturn in 10th, ascendant trine/sextile/conjunct saturn, saturn aspecting ascendant very determined people, persistent, and resilient to their work. one of the most ambitious to achieve their goals. since they were younger they’ve known that they are destined for making something out of themselves. seen as very serious and intimidating because they feel super protective over their reputation and paths. discipline comes a long way, they might even have to work twice as hard just to be where they are. careers for these people; business owner, corporate, consultant, dentists/surgeons, accountants, financial planners/advisors.

celebrities with capricorn in 10th: rihanna, billie eilish, nikola tesla, jeff bezos, jordan peterson, morgan freeman.

aquarius midheaven, saturn/uranus in 10th, ascendant trine/sextile/conjunct uranus, uranus aspecting ascendant gives one skills and abilities in things that others do not understand or find stressful. aquarius midheaven has a natural interest in difficult areas. they like coming up with different things, extremely innovative and creative. these people leave legacies in their area of interest, inflicting change and making hard things easier to understand is common for them. careers for these people; engineers, computer scientists, activists, mathematicians, -ologists of any kind, designers, transportation, autonomy.

celebrities with aquarius in 10th house: hilary clinton, neil armstrong, amy wine house, jared leto, will smith.

pisces midheaven, neptune in 10th, ascendant trine/conjunct/sextile neptune, neptune aspecting ascendant allows a person to be huge visionaries in their field. they have so many ideas, influx of projects, and they get inspired through absolutely everything. as contemplative as they are, they love leaving their options open. not all those who wander are lost type of vibe. they naturally love to give and it is important that they are at one with their careers. sometimes seems like they are so fit for what they do. it has to be something they feel at peace with or that doesn’t involve too many others; artists, writers, philosophers/psychologists, photographers, spiritualist, architects.

celebrities with pisces in 10th house: lady gaga, adele, van gogh, cher, kamala harris, shakespeare, lebron james.

remember, it is not just your midheaven that represents what you will do in this life, keep in mind of the others things like i stated earlier, also jupiter is very important when we talk about income here. depending on the house it is in will show you how you can attract that money. ex; jupiter in 11h, make money through similar ways an aquarius midheaven might. or they might find that it interests them to go after something that standardly an aquarius midheaven would. 6th house is how we can approach projects. ex; 6th house mars could have an assertive work style, communicative, sharp minded, calculated, determined to duty. 2nd house shows you how you are with money in general, ex; neptune in 2nd can make someone more reckless with spending, giving to others easily, or losing track of budgets. ex,if you have an 8th house mercury persay, you can get money lended a lot by siblings or close relatives, fellow coworkers. (if you have any in particular shoot me a message or comment it down below and i can let you know my inputs on yours).

thank you for reading and like i said if you need any clarification i will be more than happy to clarify!

[slut4celebs]

Sweet Tooth

Sabrina Carpenter x Reader

Word Count: 1,006 words

Trigger Warnings: a bunch of fluff, they shower together but nothing happens

Request & Synopsis: "fluffy fic with Sabrina after one of her tours" - A cute fic in which Sabrina just needs after show cuddles with her girlfriend.

Requests are: open.

(Y/n) let the security escort her backstage early due to it apparently being Sabrina's request during a quick break she had for a quick change. She followed them, waving at a few fans who were recording her. Getting used to the filming and photos was still a little strange, but she has handled it with grace. She wasn't in the industry, so initially she didn't know how to handle it, but Sabrina just told her to 'smile and wave.' This was a trick she also learned from the Penguins from Madagascar, a movie she constantly convinced Sabrina to watch with her on the tour bus or when they inhabited her apartment.

Getting to the back, she was able to watch the last few moments of Sabrina singing her song of the summer, Espresso. (Y/n) smiled proudly, nose scrunching in excitement as she watched Sabrina enter. Sabrina gently fell into her girlfriend's arms and she held her close. "You did so good," she said softly, not caring that Sabrina was sweaty. She cared more about the way her girlfriend's eyes lit up at the praise she had received. Sabrina deserved it though. She was absolutely outstanding, and (Y/n) was absolutely enthralled with her singing and her performance. She always gave it her all on stage and that was evident. (Y/n) didn't understand why Sabrina even looked her way, but she felt incredibly lucky that she did. Even more so that their feelings were mutual.

Sabrina tightened her hold on her girlfriend slightly. "Is it too much to request a shower and some cuddles?" She asked with a sweet smile. She pressed her dark-pink painted lips against her girlfriend's hoping to sweeten the deal. (Y/n) knew what she was doing, but she didn't mind. Sabrina didn't have to convince her though. She was always down to cuddle Sabrina. After she nodded, she led (Y/n) to the shower. "Can you please wash my hair for me, too? I'm too tired and I just want your touch."

The question made (Y/n) smile brighter as she agreed. She gently massaged and worked the shampoo into her girlfriend's hair, the conditioner following. Sabrina couldn't help but appreciate the intimacy of the action. After the shower, they dressed in their after show clothes that they packed. Meaning, just some 'Short n Sweet' sweatshirts and sweatpants that they had specially made. (Y/n) always adorned and promoted Sabrina's merch. Since the start of their relationship, (Y/n) became Sabrina's biggest fan. She wanted to make sure the world knew that she was Sabrina Carpenter's girlfriend, and that she was very proud over the fact. Sabrina was her favorite person, and she was so insanely into her.

Sabrina, in turn, didn't know what she would do without (Y/n). They met at a coffee shop when she was dating Joshua Bassett. After the entire thing blew up, the coffee shop became her haven away from all of the paparazzi since (Y/n) kicked out anyone trying to take pictures of her. She didn't exactly know who Sabrina was before that since she wasn't chronically online. But when she got to know Sabrina, her mind finally clicked and she realized that she was indeed Maya Hart from Girl Meets World, a show she indulged in whenever she was sick and staying home from school. Now, the two were closer than ever. (Y/n) never let the fame of Sabrina get to her. She instead, stepped back and let Sabrina get all the praise that she felt her girlfriend deserved.

Once (Y/n) graduated college, being a couple years younger than Sabrina, she was able to find a remote job in able to travel with Sabrina. This made it to where (Y/n) would do all of her work when she woke up and then would meet Sabrina before her show so she knew where to sit. It was a repetitive cycle the two got used to and loved. Normally, she would stay and finish the show, trying to beat the crowd from overwhelming her with questions as she made her way backstage, but tonight Sabrina had wanted to come back early. Whatever Sabrina wanted, she would deliver. Now, she was delivering cuddles to her girlfriend in her tour bus.

As (Y/n) held Sabrina as the two were curled in each other's arms, watching Alice in Wonderland. "You know, you kind of look like Alice." She teased, with a giant grin. The words caused Sabrina to gasp playfully, her blue eyes met (Y/n)'s and she shook her head. "How come you see any blonde cartoon character, you say I look like them. There are some distances between Alice and I. Besides, with that wide grin of yours, you look just like the Cheshire Cat, you know?" She claimed with playful defiance as her fingers tickled her girlfriend playfully.

(Y/n) didn't allow this to deter her playfulness, grinning wider, a laugh falling from her lips as she caught Sabrina's hands. "Oh, please," she said, pressing a kiss to her lips, "you're blonde, short, blue-eyed, and you have bangs. You two even wear your bangs the same, parted in the middle." She concluded, only to be ultimately silenced by her girlfriend's later. Her eyes fluttered close as she reciprocated the kiss happily. It was an obvious ploy to get her to stop talking, though the two knew it was playful.

"Okay, whatever, Cheshire, I look like Alice." She shook her head, moving back to being cuddled by her girlfriend. She enjoyed their playful banter. As the movie continued, Sabrina noted that (Y/n)'s breathing became a bit slower. This was a big giveaway that she had fallen asleep. Turning over, she saw this to be true. She kissed (Y/n)'s forehead softly before turning off the movie and nuzzling deeper into the girl's arms. Out of all the people in the world, Sabrina would be forever grateful that she met (Y/n), the girl who understood her the most.

[vintagetvstars]

In light of James Earl Jones recent passing I thought it would be nice to celebrate his life and career by highlighting some of his major TV works.

Unfortunately most of these shows have not made the leap to online streaming and it’s possible they may have never even been released in any form of physical media. I hope one day we may see these shows available for viewing again but for now I’ll share what I could find of them.

Gabriel’s Fire (1990 - 1991)

“The main character, Gabriel Bird, was played by James Earl Jones. He was a former Chicago police officer who, over twenty years prior, had been wrongfully sentenced to life imprisonment for the murder of a fellow police officer. In fact, he shot the officer to protect a defenseless mother and child whom the officer was about to murder in cold blood during a 1969 police raid. Unbeknownst to Bird, the raid had been merely a pretext for the police to attack the members of a militant black nationalist organization.

This incident in the character's background was inspired by the 1969 death of Black Panther Party leader Fred Hampton, who was shot and killed during a raid upon his residence conducted by Chicago police and other law enforcement personnel. On the show, the street on which the raid involving Bird had occurred was identified as "Hampton Street".

After serving about twenty years in prison, a human rights lawyer decides to work for his release as his testimony is needed in another case. At first, Bird opposes any attempts to release him, as he became accustomed to life in prison, but after his release takes place against his will, he begins to get used to life as a free person and uses his time away from prison to help other people who are wronged by society or the authorities.

When Bird is released, he starts working as a private detective, hired by the lawyer who had helped free him.” (Source)

James Earl Jones won the Emmy for Outstanding Lead Actor in a Drama Series for his role in this show.

While this show is unfortunately unavailable on streaming services I was able to find someone who had uploaded a recording of the first episode on YouTube (unfortunately I could not find the rest of the series at this time). There do not seem to be any DVD or physical media copies of this show.

Paris (1979)

“Los Angeles Police Captain Woody Paris (Jones) is the supervisor of a team of rookie detectives, led by Sergeant Stacy Erickson (Cecilia Hart) and including officers Charlie Bogart (Jake Mitchell), Ernesto Villas (Frank Ramirez), and Willie Miller (Michael Warren). Hank Garrett portrayed Deputy Chief Jerome Bench, Paris' superior, and, in an unusual turn for police dramas of that era, Paris' home and off-duty life was given considerable attention, with Lee Chamberlin portraying his wife Barbara. Paris additionally moonlighted as a professor of criminology at a local university.” (Source)

This show is also unavailable online and I could only find DVD listings on a few obscure sites so it’s unclear if any physical media of this show truly exists. However I did find a short clip of its theme (unfortunately it’s just a short clip of James Earl Jones in the intro sequence followed by the rest of the music over a blurry image of him).

Pros and Cons (1991 - 1992)

"Gabriel Bird is a former Chicago police officer, who, over twenty years prior, had been wrongfully sentenced to life imprisonment for the murder of a fellow officer. He was exonerated and subsequently became a Chicago private detective (as seen on Gabriel's Fire). Bird then moves to Los Angeles, where he teams up with another private eye, Mitch O'Hannon. Bird also marries his love interest, Josephine, She had been the proprietress of a café where Bird had begun frequenting shortly after his release, at first for her good, homestyle cooking, but soon, primarily for her companionship." (Source)

Once again this show has not made the leap to streaming and there have seemingly been no DVD or physical media releases of it. However I did find a clip of a short promotional spotlight for the show.

Heat Wave (1990)

"Heat Wave is a 1990 American thriller-drama television film about the 1965 Los Angeles Watts Riots" (Source)

Heat Wave was a made for TV movie and also starred: Blair Underwood and Cicely Tyson.

James Earl Jones won the Emmy for Supporting Actor in a Movie or Miniseries for his role in this movie.

This movie is available for streaming on Amazon, Apple TV, and Fandango at Home. And it looks like there are some DVD copies for purchase on Amazon, Ebay, and other sites.

Here is a promotional trailer for the movie.

CW: Police Brutality and Racism

I hope this has bean able to shine a light on a lesser acknowledged section of James Earl Jones extensive acting career and legacy. And I hope one day those shows of his that have been seemingly lost to time may yet see the light of day once again.

[rootspiral]

Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 3 part 1

(Wandavision entries: [1][2][3])

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7])

hey hey, it's episode 3 Through Many Miles of Tricks and Trials and we're on the Road, witches!

Agatha knew All Along (that Billy created the Road), evidence number 1 out of 646132.

And see how they added black bars in this episode? They're getting ready to switch aspect ratio like they did in Wandavision

but like, she's not wrong. you see that sharon's not wrong, don't you? she has been kidnapped by witches. again.

agatha's grimace when they say it's all her fault. which a) it totally is and b) she never expects other witches to be supportive of her anyway

oh sharon, you beautiful fish out of water. we all laugh at her, meanwhile she's PANICKING. HARD.

this particular group needs to figure out how to do that first, Billy. but hey, they'll get there. sort of.

Jen, looking directly at agatha: why is this MAGICLESS HELPLESS lady coming with us on a deadly mission, whose sick idea was this? she has no business being here!

Sharon, her voice drowned by everyone else: see that's what I've been trying to tell you~

Agatha deflecting hard, like the coward she is: HEY THIS IS MY GOOD FRIEND MRS HART YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT

a very scared coven looks at agatha for answers, because she's the only one who's ever been on the Road.

agatha, who's never fucking been on the Road and made up the whole thing: I've bullshitted my way into this mess, I'll bullshit my way out of it. live laugh love bitches!

I'm looking at this scene clearly for the first time now that I've brightened it, and wow, the others are worried, but sharon looks so scared, always so scared

billy is having the time of his life, and you'd think agatha would step in at some point and warn him about what he's done. but nah. let's wait and see. as long as she's covering her own ass.

lilia looking at billy's sigil like, damn that's some neat handiwork, wonder who did that. she sounds like a cool witch.

agatha totally insults stuff when she's impressed with it like some cheap anime tsundere

lies.

but see how she puts her whole body between billy and the others? super protective mama

HOW COULD YOU GUYS LOSE HER SO QUICKLY. it's funny and all, but this is exactly how she'll die: they'll forget about her until it's too late.

it's so clever what they're doing with sharon, and it's so clever that they chose debra jo rupp for it, because she's so delightfully funny. I've talked already about how the comedy in the first few episodes is deceptive. sharon is living in a horror movie and you're not supposed to see it quite yet.

you think she's a funny old lady upset about losing her purse. you think maybe she's gonna find out she's magical and join the coven, who knows! so much fun, so many possibilities! you don't think that this is a woman in her 70s who was brutally tortured by a witch only a few years back, you forgot the lesson from wandavision. this evening she was tending her garden and now she's god knows where with a bunch of those very witches she's sure to be terrified of, kidnapped by a neighbor she thought she could trust. think about that, she's not going home, ever. I'll elaborate more at the end of the episode, but this is a show about the inevitability of death. sharon is like nicky, doomed by the narrative, and it'll take you two or three or four rewatches to fully see it and to make your peace with it.

alice tenderheart, alice braveheart jumps to the rescue with no esitation. she is a protection witch. she protects.

agatha stands in the back and (pretends she) doesn't care, like some asshole.

hey agatha, hey agatha? fuck you. fuck you agatha.

she's pulling all this out of her ass. she might as well be doing fart noses right now

my headcanon is that this is where Billy dreams to retire with Boyf in their golden years. you know he thinks about that sort of stuff

thank you to @friedwizardwhispers for pointing out that agatha is also in awe of the Road and the magic it took to create it. she is! look at her here, she's scared but also excited, she's fundamentally a nerd who's always hungry to learn and discover more about magic and spellcraft. she hates the witch community but she's also obsessed with it

now look at this sequence: agatha demonstrates once again that she knows Billy is behind all of this. only she goes about it with hints and metaphors because - you know - she's a damn fucking coward

sharon has gone through all the stages of grief in twenty minutes: denial (this is a kidnapping!), anger (this came from talbots, you can't have it!) bargain (okay, okay, okay, catching my breath, okay), depression (I don't know how do you expect me to walk and walk and walk when there is nowhere to walk to!) aaand now she's accepted her fate. time to get drunk. and die.

"That would be such a bummer." WOULD IT NOW BILLY. WOULD IT BE SUCH A BUMMER IF SHARON DIED SO SENSELESSLY? WOULD IT SEND AUDIENCES THROUGH ALL FIVE STAGES OF GRIEF TOO IF SHE WAS KILLED LIKE THAT??? IT'S ALMOST AS IF THEY'RE DOING IT ON PURPOSE OR SMTH BILLY

what I'm saying is, the writers are truly basking in some cruel irony right now. especially considering that billy is going to feel so responsible about sharon's death

the others look back at the house, agatha is the only one looking at billy, she's the only one who understands the implications of the exchange between billy and sharon. I imagine her process being something like "this is really going to hurt the kid later -> should I say something? -> should I step in? -> should i...? -> ... ->nah"

so the moon in the sky and the color of the leaves on the Road depend on the trial? is that why they were blue just now? I need to pay more attention to stuff like that

sharon takes a deep breath, sighs, goes into the house last.

sudden aspect ratio change! not my favorite outfits, but I love those pants on kathryn

see you tomorrow peeps ❤️

go to episode 3 part 2

[ofluckandmagic]

Calliope stood firmly beside a fallen tree, Thyella in hand as a form of support as her hooves anxiously pawed at the ground. The spear looked more like a giant flute than anything else, with an obsidian spearhead. She wasn’t entirely sure what she was expecting, coming to the Stave. The directions Lúnda had given her were vague at best. Perhaps she should’ve asked more questions? Even so she couldn’t turn back now.

Her gaze locked with Kratos’ own, her mismatched brown and gold eyes glimmering with a mixture of surprise, relief, and a hint of fear. He was older now, they both were. Calliope had lived what felt like lifetimes since she’d seen her father last in the fields of Elysium. For years she’d held out hope that she’d find him again, Even after escaping Artemis’ cluthes, and taking on the role of Diana, she refused to let go of that hope. Yet, it didn’t feel real to be here. The young goddess was at a loss of words. He must not believe she was really here, either.

“No trickery…. It’s me.”

@ofluckandmagic sent a 🪓 for Kratos

"Hm.. What trickery is this?"

[damneddamsy]

second sight | cregan stark x oc (part ix)

a/n: on today's episode of Stark angst-fluff, it's all bloodshed and swords. And death.

The gates of Winterfell groaned open, a shadow yawning into the night, and Cregan felt the cold settle through him in a way that wasn’t simply the midnight air. Beneath his calm, the rage lay coiled, ancient and fierce, thrumming with the need to strike. He could feel it stirring, a force under his skin that he’d kept at bay for too long.

Tonight, the reckoning had come, and his enemy came as he’d least expected: alone, at the gates, a twisted mockery of honour that demanded restraint when every instinct demanded blood. His grip on Ice was steady, yet his mind roiled, fixed only on Sylas—the man who had touched what was his, hurt what was his, and now dared to stand in the shadow of Winterfell, the home Cregan had vowed to protect, alone and smirking in the night.

“So,” Sylas called out, his voice echoing mockingly across the courtyard. “The wolf king. Winter itself.”

No allies, no horses, no men. Just one man and the scent of fresh blood dripping from the carcass he’d brought like some cruel gift. The insult seethed in Cregan’s mind. It was more than a challenge; it was a mockery, a claim that Sylas the Grim feared no man, not even the King of the North.

Cregan’s expression remained stony, but his eyes narrowed, catching every sneer and glint of derision. Sylas was baiting him, testing for cracks in his stoicism. But a wolf doesn’t bare its teeth to bark; it saves them for the kill.

“You’ve brought breakfast?” Cregan asked, his voice sharp, restrained. His gaze flicked to the mangled reindeer, its blood staining Sylas’s shoulder and leaving a dark trail in the snow. “Thought you came with more ambitious intentions than a mere dead hart.”

Sylas’s grin widened, yellow teeth bared in something almost akin to amusement. “A civil gift, my king. I don’t need an army. Just a seat by the fire, and the wolf to see to it.”

Cregan crossed his arms. “My hearth is for allies and friends,” he said with an edge to his words. “My guest’s seat isn’t set aside for those threatening the Lady of Winterfell.”

Sylas laughed, the sound coarse and feral, resonating with the ancient and untamed. He glanced over the quiet battlements, then back to Cregan, as if taking in the walls that had withstood centuries.

“Aye, your pretty princess. Talked you up, she did. She seemed sure you were no ordinary man.” Sylas shook his head in mock disappointment. “I expected a king, maybe even a monster. And here you are, just a boy, wrapped in fur.”

A ferocity flickered in Cregan’s eyes, but his voice was calm, tempered. “And you came here alone, claiming a guest’s right?” His lips curved slightly, coldly. “Bold, for a man who sought to break the North.”

“Bold?” Sylas echoed, a dark gleam in his eyes as he stepped closer. “More like knowing what I want. I want the North, boy. And then more...”

He let his words hang, his eyes glinting with unspoken challenge.

The blood in Cregan’s veins pulsed his hand itching for Ice’s hilt. But he held still. He came alone, Cregan reminded himself. Honour bound him to the rules of hospitality, however, twisted they felt tonight.

“Well,” Cregan replied coolly, though the anger simmered like a fire under his words. “You've come bearing meat and hollow promises, but if it’s fire you seek, you’ll find it. As for the rest...” His lips curled in a threat. “When the last bone on that deer has been picked clean, I’ll feed you to my direwolves—meat and all.”

The wildling smirked, shifting the dead weight on his shoulder with a shrug. He took a step forward, the weight of his insolence heavier than any army.

“Good. I’ll take that fire.”

X

Cregan watched Sylas with thinly veiled disgust, his jaw tense as the wildling devoured his meal like a starved animal. Sylas tore the meat with his bare hands, juices dripping down his fingers and settling in his beard, where bits of bread and meat clung, smeared carelessly as he bit into the next piece. Each tear, each wet, ripping sound only served to deepen Cregan's revulsion.

This was the man who’d claimed he wanted to take his wife, the one who would lord over his people and his legacy? The wildling seemed a filthy joke of a threat, and yet, here he was.

As if summoned by some inner protest to this vulgar display, the oak door whined open, and Claere entered. She was freshly bathed, her silver hair gleaming in crowning braids, her dragon-riding leathers perfectly pressed—a deliberate contrast to the wildling seated like a beast across from Cregan.

He stiffened, irritation rising as he caught sight of her. It was mere hours past the hour of the wolf, she waltzed in like it was the first light of the morn. He had to make sure her violet eyes held consciousness, that this was not her on another one of her sleep-walking rituals.

He’d told so many to keep her away if she woke, to make excuses or detours, anything to spare her from this savage again. Yet here she was, gliding in as if she were the queen he knew her to be, composed and unnervingly calm. She stepped forward, her gaze briefly assessing Sylas before she met Cregan’s eyes.

She bent down and kissed him—a light press of her lips on his, murmuring, "Good morrow, husband."

That kiss arrested him, a public display she rarely indulged in. Usually, it was he who initiated, who sought the reassurance of her touch. Now, she was sending a message—to him, to Sylas.

Cregan's gaze darkened as Claere settled beside him, her calm demeanor a direct contrast to the storm brewing within him.

“Claere, love,” he murmured lowly, leaning toward her, his voice tight with a warning. “This is no place—”

She cut him off with a light smile, reaching over. “The bread, please? I’m famished from last night.”

The casualness of it jarred him, yet he passed her a slice with reluctant, guarded hands. She spread it with honey, added a thin layer of cheese, and bit into it. Her movements were practiced, graceful—the kind of elegance that felt all the more pointed in the presence of the feral man across from them.

A stillness fell over the room as Claere’s gaze lifted, settling unflinchingly on Sylas. His smirk froze, and for a moment, he seemed to falter, something almost indiscernible slipping behind his eyes as he took her in. The hungry glint in his stare intensified, though his smirk started to die under her silent, unwavering regard. She merely took another bite of bread, the faintest smile tugging at her lips as she chewed, deliberate as it was unbothered.

“Lord Sylas,” she spoke at last, her voice smooth, lilting with a quiet steel. She wiped the edge of her mouth with a thumb. “Come to draw first blood?”

Sylas’s grin returned, wider this time but edged with something darker. “I’d draw the dress off you if I could, little queen.”

Cregan's hand slammed against the table, plates clattering, as his eyes hardened. His voice came in a low, fierce growl. “Filthy cunt—”

Claere’s soft laugh, muffled behind her hand, slipped into the silence. She let it settle before dropping her hand, her expression calm.

“Forgive him, dearest,” she said lightly, glancing at Cregan with a wry sparkle in her eye. “We mustn’t expect manners from a rabid dog who strays beyond his territory.”

Sylas’s gaze sharpened. “Misplaced loyalty.” His eyes flicked to Cregan, then back to her, almost mockingly. “I would be a kinder lord. I never thought I’d see such a shiny thing descend so low... to a Stark.”

Claere’s stare never wavered, her lips curving faintly again, but the edge in her voice was unmistakable. “Descend?” She tilted her head, the movement controlled, slow. “From where I stand, the only descent I see is yours, Sylas. After all, it’s my husband’s home in which you sit. Like a vermin, starved for scraps.”

Sylas's smirk dimmed, his eyes flashing with irritation before he forced a grin that showed far too many teeth. He leaned back, folding his arms.

“Funny words from behind his shield,” he said.

At that, Cregan's hand jolted toward Ice, but Claere placed her own hand over his, a patient, restrictive touch. She met Sylas’s stare, her voice so soft it was nearly a whisper, yet it was unmistakable in its authority.

“Then try your hand, Lord Sylas,” she replied. “But remember this: before you reach for the Iron throne, you’ll need to survive me.”

Sylas laughed, though the gleam in his eye was feral and frustrated. He tore into another bite of his food, his gaze burning into them both. Still, Cregan could feel the shift in the room, the silent power Claere held even as she sat there, composed, calm as she drew her husband’s hand up to her lips in an unexpected, calculated kiss on his knuckles.

And at that, Sylas fell into a strained silence.

The old wildling spat a chunk of bone to the ground, licking the grease from his fingers with a careless smirk. He leaned forward, eyes flickering between Claere and Cregan, a sly gleam in them.

“Didn’t come here just to fill my belly, boy,” he rasped, voice low and rough. “I came with a deal.”

Cregan’s grip tightened on the edge of the table, his knuckles pale against the wood.

Cregan’s hand gripped the arm of his chair, his knuckles whitening. “Don't waste your breath. Your deal holds no interest for me,” he replied harshly.

“You might be.” Sylas grinned, something feral in his smile as he leaned back, chewing on the edge of a grin. “See, I'll give you what you want most—your North, all of it, untouched and free. No raiders. No bloodshed. It's yours, I'll ride on South. The price?”

His gaze slid to Claere, his expression raw with crude intent. “Her.”

The weight of his words settled heavily. Cregan’s face hardened, his fingers flexing on the hilt of his longsword as he met Sylas’s gaze with unyielding fury. “You think I’d trade my wife for your empty oath?” His voice was cold, a quiet danger laced within each syllable. “You think that’s all I want for her? A future of enslavement and shackles?”

Sylas’s smile only widened, his gaze flicking back to Claere. “Peace, on a plate. A truce,” he went on, voice almost mocking. “For the little queen.”

Beside him, Claere sat perfectly still, her calm presence masking the tension rippling through her. Her eyes narrowed as she regarded Sylas, collected, even as his intentions became glaringly clear.

“There will be no trade,” Cregan said with finality, his tone leaving no room for argument. “She is mine, and neither your threats nor your offers will change that.”

Sylas tilted his head, his face a mask of disappointment. “Pathetic,” he murmured, rising to his feet, and towering over them both. “If she doesn’t come with me, I’ll take your home, every inch of it. And when I do,” he said, leaning close enough for Cregan to catch the bitter edge of his breath, “I’ll take your head too.”

“Then I suggest you start taking your aim,” Cregan rose to his feet, stepping close enough that Sylas could feel the threat radiating off him like heat. “Because you’ll have to kill me to take her. And I don't die easy.”

A dangerous smile played at the corner of Sylas’s mouth. He glanced down at Claere one last time, eyes brimming with twisted satisfaction.

“So be it,” he sighed. “I'll kill you first.”

Sylas's grin twisted as he reached down to the table, plucking a sharp bone shard from the remains of the deer meat. With a snap of movement, he lunged, aiming for Cregan’s shoulder.

Cregan’s reflexes were as quick as they were honed, sensing the threat before it even surfaced. He sidestepped the wildling’s strike, his hand latching onto Sylas’s wrist in an iron grip. With a twist, he forced Sylas’s arm down, the bone shard falling to the floor as Sylas struggled against his hold, sneering in frustration.

“Not before the lady,” Cregan’s voice was a low, lethal rumble, his hand shifting to Sylas’s neck. He tightened his grip, enough to make the wildling’s breathing hitch, and leaned close.

Claere simply scooted her chair away from them, taking a short sip of her water.

Cregan’s grip only tightened, his face a mask of simmering rage. “You’ve already overstayed your welcome,” he growled, voice low, deadly. “You want a fight? I won’t sully my ancestors’ hall for the likes of you. We’ll finish this outside.”

Sylas’s eyes gleamed, his smirk twisting into something feral. “Good.”

Without another word, Cregan released him, shoving Sylas back a step. The wildling stumbled, then righted himself, his grin still plastered across his face as he spat a dark glob onto the floor between them. Cregan watched him, gaze cold and unmoved.

“Hope you’re ready to bleed, wolf,” Sylas sneered, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, the room heavy with anticipation.

X

Dawn barely crept over the horizon, casting a grey, ghostly pallor across the courtyard. Cregan stood, his breath misting in icy clouds, muscles taut as he faced Sylas before the towering gates of Winterfell. The wildling was a solid wall of muscle, twisting a brutal-looking axe in his hands, its edge darkened by countless kills. A ring of soldiers circled the two men, their eyes shifting between them with tense anticipation, breaths sharp in the biting cold.

Sylas grinned, a dark gleam in his eye as he rolled his shoulders back, his size and coiled power making him look like a beast unfurling for a strike.

“You're smaller than she made you sound. And here I thought you'd have some big fangs.”

Cregan’s gaze remained steady, unfazed. “I’ve faced wilder beasts than you in these woods.”

Sylas barked a laugh, lifting his axe as he advanced. “All but me.”

The first swing came roaring and fast, almost catching Cregan off guard. He parried with Ice, though the impact sent a jarring vibration through his arms. Sylas was quick and ruthless, and as they traded blows, he drove Cregan back with brute force, step by step, the ground slick beneath them.

Clang. Thud.

Each blow echoed across the silent courtyard.

Their eyes met briefly as Cregan steadied himself, bracing against Sylas’s next assault. Sylas sneered, breathing hard, the wild gleam never leaving his gaze. “Lady Stark spoke of you like you were a god,” he taunted, swinging his axe again. “But it seems she’s only good at telling pretty tales.”

Cregan twisted his blade up to parry, gritting his teeth as the clash of steel echoed. "You talk too much,” he growled, landing a swift kick to Sylas’s chest.

Sylas staggered back a step, laughing. “Soon she'll be telling those tales to our sons by your fire, wolf."

Cregan’s grip tightened around the hilt of Ice, his knuckles white as he steadied himself, but Sylas was relentless. With a brutal shove, Sylas sent him sprawling again, and the ground came up to meet Cregan in a hard, unforgiving blow. He gasped, feeling the sting of steel biting into his arm as Ice slipped free, the blood seeping quickly into the frost-bitten earth beneath him. The soldiers around him shifted, some whispering, others simply watching as their lord was brought to his knees.

Sylas circled him like a wolf sizing up wounded prey, the twisted grin on his face stretching as he tilted his head to the gathering crowd.

“So this is the wolf of Winterfell? Your king?” he sneered, his voice a mocking growl. “Brought low by a wildling. Tell me, Stark—where’s my little queen?”

Cregan staggered to his feet, pain radiating up his arm, vision blurring as he forced himself to keep his footing. Sylas’s eyes glinted with malice, revelling in every faltering step, every gasp of breath Cregan couldn’t quite catch.

“You’d think the witch would have the decency to show,” Sylas taunted, his voice growing louder, pitched to the soldiers listening in. “Or has she slunk away, letting you bleed for her wrongs?”

Cregan braced himself as Sylas closed in, teeth gritted against the pain, his stance unyielding. But Sylas’s taunts sank on him, gnawing at his focus, his strength ebbing as Sylas struck him hard across the chest. The air was forced from his lungs as he dropped to a knee, every nerve searing with the agony of his wounds.

Sylas grinned down at him, his voice a sneering whisper. “Look at you. A beaten mutt. Unfit to rule.” He leaned closer, voice dripping with venom, “Where is she, huh?”

His words went ignored. With one last surge of strength, Cregan forced himself upright, eyes locking onto Sylas, rage and defiance blazing. He was battered, barely able to stand, but he’d face him to the last breath if it came to that. When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies but the pack survives, his father had said to him once.

Let the lone wolf die. Let him die.

“She burns like the cold,” Cregan said in a painful breath.

X

The bedchamber flickered with dim firelight, casting shadows over the map sprawled between them. Claere and Cregan stood side by side, alone and cloaked in silence, their eyes fixed on Winterfell’s drawn walls and the ragged paths marking where Sylas’s forces would come. They needed no counsel tonight; only themselves.

Claere's face was unreadable, her gaze shadowed, and Cregan felt the weight of something beyond hesitation. He wanted to pull her close, to let his warmth dispel that cold distance, but he held back, tracing his fingers over the edges of the map instead.

“Sylas will move fast,” he murmured, his tone low and matter-of-fact, though his eyes drifted toward her face. “If he pushes hard enough, he’ll think he can break us here.” His finger tapped the curve just south of Winterfell. “He’ll press his men until they’re inside the keep—close enough to choke us in our own walls.”

Claere’s eyes didn’t waver, her expression carved in something colder than he’d ever seen. Yet, beneath it, he sensed a dread she kept buried. For a moment, he thought she might ask for a different way, to use a slower plan, anything to avoid the fire and fury he saw in his own mind.

But instead, her voice came, soft and impassive. “If he’s brought them all here… then Luna can burn them out. It will turn the tide.” Her fingers brushed along the edge of the map, pausing over the paths the wildlings would take, but her gaze held his. “I don’t see any other way.”

Her solemn words struck him harder than the battles they’d fought. She’d chosen this herself. Reaching across the map, he laid his hand over hers, feeling the coolness of her skin and the fire behind her eyes. He tightened his grip, his voice coming in a quiet murmur.

“Luna’s flames will stop them before they ever reach the walls.” His grip on her hand grew, as if by force alone he could keep the determination he saw in her from wavering. “I’ll take Sylas myself when he comes through. When he sees the fires, he’ll know what’s waiting for him.”

Claere looked back down at the map, though her hand remained within his. Even a blind man could've seen that strength in her, unwavering, yet something in her silence twisted his own resolve.

“You don’t have to do this, love.” His voice softened, the words almost breaking the silence like a plea. “You owe them nothing—not after what they’ve demanded of you.”

She stilled, her fingers brushing a line on the map that led from Winterfell to the wilds beyond. Her violet gaze lifted, meeting his, and her voice came faint but sharp as a dagger.

“I brought him here, Cregan. If Winterfell burns, it’ll be by my hand, not his.”

He took in her words, feeling both pride and a chill he couldn’t shake. There was no stopping her once she’d spoken like that; he had learned this much. He released a slow breath, his hand still on hers, though his grip softened.

“They’ll protest,” he murmured, almost to himself, knowing the lords would sneer at her volatile dragonblood the minute they caught wind of the fire in her plans.

She smirked, a faint, bitter twist of her mouth. “Then let them protest. Their words have always come cheap in our halls.”

There was nothing left to say; they had both chosen.

His voice was a rough whisper. “And when Sylas comes to the gates, he’ll meet me there. Your fire will bring his men to ruin, and his death will be by my hand.”

Her expression softened then, something flickering in her eyes. She gave a slight nod, the unspoken words holding between them as surely as any vow.

“Then let it be us,” she said, her voice quiet but relentless, “and only us.”

X

Claere’s silhouette merged with the pale light of the oncoming sun, crouched upon Luna’s back. Her silver braid whipped in the frigid wind, streaking across her face as she peered down at the advancing figures below—Sylas’s wildling host, oblivious, like ants on a thread, skittering through the shadows toward Winterfell. Her heart clenched, not only with tension but with a sense of sickened resolve.

Claere took a steadying breath, reaching down to soothe Luna’s scales as the dragon rumbled beneath her, ready, eager, alive with a hunger for the command. This was what she was—she was a weapon of fire and wings.

“Dracarys, Luna,” she whispered, her voice firm, though her mind wavered. Fire, Luna.

Luna inhaled sharply, and the first jet of flame burst forth, tearing through the forest edge. The fire lit up the gloaming, a roar of blistering fury erupting from the dragon’s throat, tearing through trees and flesh alike and consuming everything in its path. The inferno roared so ferociously that Claere flinched, though she held firm, her gaze steeling even as her stomach twisted. Her thoughts churned as she took in the fire’s path below, eyes lingering on the wild devastation.

This wasn’t her—it was Luna, this was her dragon’s fury flowing from her through the fire. She could almost feel her resolve shake as the flames danced in her vision, searing images of charred trees and wildlings scrambling, scattering, disappearing. She repeated the words in her mind like a chant, Luna’s rage, not mine, though she knew even as she said it that it wasn’t entirely true.

Her breath shook as she leaned closer to Luna, coaxing her to move over the battalion attempting to retreat. The dragon’s energy surged as they neared. She stroked Luna’s side, voice soft but firm.

“Lykiri, Luna,” she soothed, her words almost trembling. “Dracarys.” Easy, Luna… fire.

Luna twisted mid-air, exhaling another wave of flame across the retreating soldiers below, sealing off their escape and turning the ground into a seething sea of embers. The dragon’s power coursed through her like a shiver, fierce and foreign, rattling her bones with its wildness.

The fire roared in her ears, and she looked down, on the scattered remains of Sylas’s army, their encroachment on her home, and her family. She watched as the smoke and flames lifted, wrapping Winterfell and Winter Town in a curtain of fiery defence. She took in the devastation below and fought the bile rising in her throat, her mind’s whisper growing weaker.

They came for Winterfell, for her people in Winter Town… they brought this upon themselves.

As the last embers died down, Claere closed her eyes, her voice barely above a murmur as she stared into the inferno, her gaze distant. “Sepār hae Daemon vestās. Lyks māzigon mērī isse perzys, gevie riña,” she whispered. Just as Daemon said. Peace comes only in flame, beautiful girl.

Luna’s fierce eyes glowed with residual heat, the dragon’s heart steadying beneath her. But Claere’s was anything but; her hands trembled as they left Luna’s scales, her mind, her heart now divided as they looked back over the ruins and toward Winterfell, her home now shrouded in the grim peace she had called forth.

X

Sylas barely registered the smoke rising from the treetops before Cregan advanced with a limp, his eyes dark with a calm that promised violence. The distant shadows of smoke from the burning woods curled into the sky, and for the first time, the feral wildling's bravado faltered.

"Looks like your men weren’t prepared for dragonfire, Sylas," Cregan remarked, his voice a low rumble that echoed across the men around him.

Sylas bared his teeth in a sneer, a wild, desperate glint in his eye. “I don’t need an army to take what I came for, Stark,” he spat. Yet his voice held a shake that betrayed him.

Cregan’s smirk was cruel, almost feral. Every step forward held the essence of Winterfell’s legacy, its unbreakable fortitude, a promise to the blood spilt for his land and kin. He swung his sword with controlled precision, matching his enemy's wildness, each clash of their blades filling the cold air with a raw, metallic shriek. Sparks shot out, tracing wild patterns against the snow as Sylas staggered, his strength now fraying against the brutal tempo of Cregan’s attack.

Sylas’s grip tightened, his movements turning frantic. Blood streaked down his hands, his breaths ragged as he swung, his attacks growing wild and uncoordinated. But he kept a cruel, bloodstained smile on his lips as he glanced toward the trees.

“You think this is over, Stark?” he snarled, forcing the words through grit teeth. “I’ve men coming to gut you like a fish. Soon enough, you’ll be choking on your own blood.”

Cregan’s expression hardened, a cold amusement flashing in his gaze. He nodded toward the columns of smoke, his voice barely a whisper.

“What men?”

Sylas’s sneer faded, his face going slack as realization washed over him. The inferno in the woods, swallowing his last line of defence. His final hope, his reinforcements—gone, turned to ash and embers under dragon’s breath.

Sylas’s eyes widened, and he stumbled back, a denial trembling on his lips. “Dragon cunt.”

But there was no more room for mercy here.

Cregan allowed Sylas one desperate reach for his blade, granting him the illusion of a fighting chance. The wildling lunged, his hands flying to the hilt at his hip, but Cregan shifted in one swift motion, letting his own sword slip to his left hand, then right again, like an executioner judging his swing.

The motion left Sylas exposed, caught off balance, and Cregan moved like the crack of thunder, his strikes hitting with unrelenting force. Sylas staggered, his pride and strength reduced to shallow, desperate parries.

Breathless, Sylas raised his sword once more, a final snarl erupting from his throat as he swung—but it was too slow, too obvious. Cregan ducked under the wildling’s strike, pivoting as he brought his blade up in one final, swift arc, the blade sinking deep into the base of Sylas’s neck. Sylas’s eyes widened as he gasped, choking on the blood pooling in his mouth, his strength bleeding out into the frozen ground.

Cregan held the sword steady, watching the fading light in the wildling’s gaze. When Sylas’s body slumped to the ground, he released his grip.

His gaze lifted to the familiar, haunting shadow of Luna as she swept above Winterfell’s walls—a silent harbinger of peace, however fleeting it might be.

Behind him, voices rose in triumphant cheers, the soldiers shouting to the grey, wintry sky.

"The King in the North!"

"The Winter's Queen!"

The chants rang across the battlefield, a victory anthem echoing off the stone walls and into the depths of Winterfell, where blood had been shed to ensure its unyielding hold on the North. And though the men cheered, Cregan’s gaze remained faraway, fixed on the horizon, where the smoke still curled—a reminder of the price paid for peace.

"The King in the North!"

"The Winter's Queen!"

X

As the last echoes of victory faded over the frozen fields, Claere soared above the remnants of battle, Luna’s wings slicing through the northern winds, her shadow vast and ominous against the frosted earth below. She descended with the grace of a winter storm, Luna’s silver scales gleaming under the grey sky, and as they landed near the ragged camp of wildlings, the ground shuddered beneath the dragon’s weight.

The wildlings huddled together, the children clutching their mothers’ legs, the old men narrowing their eyes in defiance mixed with dread. Fear rippled through them, but Claere remained impassive, her gaze steady, unyielding—a reflection of Winterfell’s ancient walls.

Some among the Freefolk, their voices hardened with anger and grief, spat curses and slurs at her, calling her “witch” and “murderous southern cunt,” hatred simmering behind the fire-stoked fear in their eyes.

Claere absorbed the words, her face an unmoving mask.

A single thrumming, ear-splitting roar from Luna stilled the camp, silencing even the most defiant. The great dragon’s eyes glinted like molten gold, her breath thick and hot, and the Freefolk felt the implicit warning in every bone.

Lifting her chin, Claere addressed them, her voice cutting through the cold air, calm and regal.

“All who wish to remain in my land,” Claere proclaimed, her voice resonating like a royal decree, “shall find protection here, beyond the Wall. I shall see that a settlement is forged near the Wall’s garrisons, where you may rebuild your lives, under the laws and traditions of the North. Take this as my utmost mercy.”

Her gaze swept over them, cutting through the crowd like steel, lingering on the wearied lines of their faces and the guarded suspicion in their eyes. “But you are Freefolk still,” she continued, her voice unwavering, regal. “Those who choose to return beyond the Wall may go freely, unscathed, provided you keep the peace in return. Understand that this fate was never one I wished upon your people.”

An uneasy murmur ran through the crowd. Many looked to one another, mistrust mingling with a hesitant hope, and one bold voice called out from the throng, roughened and raw.

“Why?” he demanded. “Why would you even care to cross the Wall? Why bring all this ruin?”

Claere’s expression flickered with a shadow of something unreadable, the barest trace of sorrow or perhaps defiance, but her answer was a mystery as if whispered from deep within.

“There are things beyond the Wall that need no reason,” she said. “I came for what lies beyond choice, beyond blood and oaths. Some things demand to be answered. And it's best they remain that way for some time.”

As Claere’s words hung in the frosted air, a quiet ripple moved through the crowd, each face etched with its own choice. Slowly, some of the Freefolk began to turn, gathering what little they owned, their faces set toward the Wall. They were the ones who would return to the wild, to the life they had always known.

But many others—mothers with children clinging close, the elders with their exhausted eyes fixed upon her—stayed where they were, watching the figure of the dragon queen with something like reverence and fear.

Claere took them in, her gaze softening for a fleeting moment, an acknowledgement of what lay ahead for them, and for her. She gave a single, solemn nod, a gesture that was both promise and farewell, and it was enough.

She gave them no further explanation, only that faint, haunting smile that seemed to come from another world entirely. As she climbed back upon Luna’s back, the great dragon unfurled her wings, her shadow stretching over the encampment. A dragon and a queen united in strength, mystery, and resolve. With a powerful beat, Luna launched them into the sky, and Claere looked down upon the land, her silver hair streaming like her own banner.

Below, the Freefolk watched as the Winter’s Queen disappeared into the northern sky, a figure both terrifying and triumphant, half Targaryen fire and half Stark frost.

The last vision of her was etched in their memories—a queen of two bloods, the very image of winter’s heart and fire’s wrath. A ruler, a legend, her name destined to echo in both hearthside tales and whispered fears for generations to come.

X

I don't know, I feel like I let people down with this. sorry everyone. I really expected more from myself with this.

one more to go, we still have much more to see!

[ taglist: @pearldaisy , @thatkindofgurl , @theadharablack , @cherryheairt , @beingalive1 , @oxymakestheworldgoround , @tigolebittiez , @cosmosnkaz , @lv7867 , @piper570 , @danikasthings , @acsc8 , @justdazzling ] -> thank you for your endless support everyone!

[iamnotoriginalphil]

Hii I have an unwell organized prompt:

Melissa and the reader at a game, there is a kiss cam, they kiss, the reader gets scared ‘cause someone can notice she really likes Mel. A lot of comfort please and thank you ❤️

The Kiss Cam

Words: 2.6k

Warnings: Like one swear word

The problem, you were beginning to realise, was that you were incapable of saying no to Melissa. She looked at you with those green eyes and asked you in that voice and you just melted, letting her do whatever she wanted. You’d agree to anything if she only asked you with that small smile you’d grown to love.

All of which meant you were squeezed into the stands as a hockey game was played below on the ice. Her arm was pressed to yours and you could hear her shouting down at the players. When she’d asked in the staff room if you’d come with her you’d nodded, not considering the fact you hadn’t ever watched a hockey game in your life.

The air prickled at your skin, cold enough to make you shiver and curl up in your coat. The crowd was loud and there was the scent of popcorn and processed meat on the air. Melissa kept leaning closer, whispering in your ear, explaining the game to you. None of it was sticking in your brain, not with her so close, her breath warming your skin, her hair brushing against your shoulder. You wanted to freeze the moment, live in it forever.

Surging out of her seat, she cheered as the puck found home in the back of the net. She looked down at you, wide smile on her face and you couldn’t help but grin back. It was like the rest of the crowd wasn’t cheering, fading away as you stared up at her, nothing but her real to you. Sitting, her arm pressed to yours, warm in the otherwise cold air. You found yourself leaning into her warmth, not able to help it. Every atom of yours wanted to be close to her.

“Watch Hart in goals. He won’t let a single one in,” she murmured in your ear, pointing down one end of the rink.

You looked where she was pointing, not sure you were seeing what she was. Sure, the goalie was stopping the other team from scoring but you couldn’t see whatever skill Melissa was seeing. Still, the feeling of her breath against your skin was sending your heart into a frenzy.

A cheer went up from the crowd and you couldn’t figure out why. No one had scored a goal. You’d been watching to make sure you didn’t miss it again.

“I can’t wait to see which dumbos they get up on there.”

She nudged you, nodding up to the big screen above the rink. A kiss cam. You laughed, watching a couple kiss, the man shoving his tongue into her mouth. Melissa tutted, shaking her head and she lent back, arms crossing over her chest. You did your best not to notice the way it pushed her ample chest upwards.

It took her elbow nudging you to notice that the image on the screen had changed. In fact, it had changed to two very familiar people. Your cheeks heated immediately, shaking your head at your own face displayed for the entire crowd to see. Melissa chuckled under her breath, arm snaking around your shoulders.

“Come on then, hon,” she said, “pucker up.”

You wanted to argue but then thought it would look even weirder if you didn’t. Would everyone know about the crush you’d been harbouring on Melissa since the day you’d met her if you didn’t? Would she know?

Rather than continuing to think about it, you let forward until you felt the warmth of her breath. Her lips were soft when they brushed against yours. You made a small noise when her tongue ran along your bottom lip, leaving you breathless and head spinning. A cheer went up from the crowd and you pulled back, practically jerking away from her.

You felt your cheeks burning and your entire body was an electric wire. You looked away from Melissa, not sure you could handle looking at her when you could still feel the press of her lips lingering on yours. You look a long sip from your soda, looking down at your feet.

She shouted something down at the ice and you sighed, shifting as far as you could from her in the tiny seat. She was so close, her perfume wafting towards you. You glanced down at the ice then back at her. She was so beautiful and yet you knew none of it was for you. Of course it wasn’t. Melissa would never like you like that. She could have her pick of people. No way would she choose you.

A gross feeling settled in your stomach. You shifted in your seat again. You didn’t like the way your skin felt or the beating of your heart. You swallowed past a lump in your throat, doing your best to push down the rising feelings in your chest. It was all feeling overwhelming and you could taste her on your lips. You needed space.

You needed to get out.

“Sorry,” you whispered to her, “I have to go.”

You stood, ignoring her surprised look, doing your best to shuffle past the people sitting in your row. She called after you but you ignored it, speeding up until you reached the stairs. You weren’t running but it was a close thing as you did your best to put some distance between yourself and Melissa. You couldn’t stand spending another moment sitting so close to her when the ghosts of her lips were haunting you.

Pushing out of the arena, you hurried out into the parking lot, frantically digging through your bag for your keys. Someone shouted your name behind you. Squeezing your eyes shut, you dug further, desperate to find the cool metal you needed. A hand grasped your wrist, turning you until you were staring into fiery green eyes.

“Oi, what gives?” Melissa demanded.

“I’m sorry, I just… I have to go. I’m not feeling well,” you said, not quite lying but definitely not telling the truth.

“You sure or was kissing me that bad?” she asked.

“No,” you yelped. There was no way you could admit that kissing her had been that bad. Or rather, than had it had been the opposite of bad and if you weren’t careful she’d figure out how much you wanted to d it again.

“I know you probably didn’t want to kiss me but this is just childish. You can’t avoid me when we work together. I thought we were friends, hon.”

You hadn’t noticed before, but looking up you found pain swimming in her eyes. Her fingers tightened for a moment before she released you, practically throwing your arm back at you. Her lips pressed together and the anger returned to her eyes.

“I’m not some schmutz you can trick. I know someone like you wouldn’t be interested in me but you could have pretended not to be disgusted after kissing me. You should have just said no,” she said.

“I wasn’t disgusted,” you said, “I’m not disgusted at all.”

“Then what’s going on? You couldn’t get away from me fast enough. You wouldn’t even look at me afterwards.”

She crossed her arms, glaring at you, waiting for your answer. There were no words, nothing you could say that would explain your behaviour. Running off had done the exact opposite of what you’d been hoping. There was no way she wasn’t going to figure out that you had to leave or else you might do something stupid like kiss her again.

“You got nothing to say?” she demanded.

You silently shook your head. Her nostrils flared, staring at you hard enough to crush your lungs. You opened your mouth but nothing came out. She scoffed, storming past you, her shoulder slamming into yours. All you could do was watch her retreating back before it hit you why your car keys hadn’t been in your bag.

“Shit,” you muttered to yourself.

You chased after Melissa, doing your best to ignore the way the denim of her jeans clung to the shape of her ass. She was doing her angry walk and you were terrified to make your request to her.

“Melissa,” you said, gently touching her shoulder as you caught up to her.

“What?” she snarled, turning on you.

“You’re my ride,” you said, doing your best not to cower under her glare.

“You can find some other way to get home,” she snapped.

“Mel, please,” you said.

“Don’t call me that,” she said, taking a step away from you.

You hadn’t meant for the nickname to slip from your lips. You hadn’t ever called her that in real life. In your head, sure, but to her face was a whole other matter. Being too familiar with her was the first step down a road that terrified you.

All those months working at Abbott and you’d found yourself slipping, letting more and more of your guard down around her. It was impossible not to. You were drawn to her. Her eyes would sparkle and she’d smile at you and you were a goner.

“Sorry, I just… Please. I’m sorry. I reacted badly and I didn’t mean to. But it’s not about you. I promise,” you said.

“Then what is it about?” she demanded.

“It’s… hard to explain,” you replied, curling your arms around your body, hoping to hold yourself together.

“Try.” Her voice brooked no argument. It was either saying something or lose her forever.

“Fine but… promise me this isn’t going to change things between us. It’s my problem to fix. I don’t want you to hate me,” you said, anxiety curdling in your stomach.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

You took a deep breath, arms tightening around your body until you could feel the squeeze. She was watching you intently. You couldn’t look at her, staring down at your shuffling feet.

“It’s not that I didn’t want to kiss you or that I didn’t enjoy it. In fact, it was the opposite. I like you. Like, a whole lot. And I thought after kissing you then you’d realise how much I like you which in retrospect has worked out really badly for me since now I’m telling you. But the point is, is that I’ll get over it since you clearly don’t feel the same way and nothing has to change with us and we can just forget about it. Because it’s not about you. It’s all my fault.”

Your confession tumbled clumsily from your lips, landing in a pile at your feet. You held your breath, frozen under her watchful gaze, not able to look at her properly. Your arms tightened again, digging into your ribs uncomfortably, keeping you on edge.

“What are you talking about, hon?”

A warm hand closed around your forearm, tugging it away from your body. You let her, your problem with saying no to her rearing its ugly head once again.

“It’s just a silly crush,” you said, wishing it was true, “I’ll get over it.”

“You’ll get over it? You think that’s what I want?” she asked.

“Don’t you?”

You peered up into her face, trying to figure out what it was she wanted you to say. She wasn’t quite meeting your eye, looking at something over your shoulder. Her fingers were pressing into the vulnerable skin on the underside of your arm and it was making you both breathless and on edge.

“I might not,” she replied, still being evasive.

“Okay, well, I don’t really know what you want now,” you said.

You didn’t like the way uncertainty stuck to you. You tried to tug out of her hold but she only held on tighter.

“Mel,” you said, “what are you doing?”

“I’m trying to tell you something,” she replied, “just give me a second.”

You waited, the anxiety in you creeping up. You’d basically exposed your hand to her and she was leaving you to stew in it. The silence was deafening, a pressure pushing against you until you wanted to curl into a ball and hide. The longer it drew on, the more you wanted to pull away from her.

Not if this was just about her rejecting you.

“Look, Mel, I-“

You were cut off as her lips pressed to yours again. Freezing, a million thoughts ran through your head, the loudest of which was that whatever was happening was some kind of prank or delusion. The hand on your arm pulled you closer until you felt her warmth seeping into your body.

“Mel,” you mumbled against her lips.

She drew back from you, hurt flashing over her face before anger replaced it, a mask to cover her vulnerability. You weren’t sure what to do, if you should reach out to her or not. Your indecision seemed to seal the deal for her. She grabbed her hand back, drawing away from you.

“No, wait,” you said, grabbing her, “I don’t understand.”

“I like you too, hon,” burst from her lips, the anger and the hurt mingling until it was like a spear she was throwing at you.

But it landed like a caress against your skin.

“You like me too?” you asked, not quite able to believe it.

“I asked you to spend time with me on a weekend,” she answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Was this a date and I didn’t realise?” you asked.

“Hon, you’ll know when I take you on a date,” she replied.

“So you wanted to kiss me then? You don’t care that I like you?” You needed to be sure.

“I care that you like me a whole lot, hon,” she said, “just not for the reasons you think. I want you to like me. I just didn’t think you did.”

“But you kissed me,” you protested.

“For the kiss cam. Those chumps in there boo anyone who doesn’t kiss. I thought a quick one would be better than that,” she replied.

“You brought your tongue into it,” you accused her.

“Yeah, because you’re hot and I thought you might like it. And if you liked it maybe you’d say yes to going out some time,” she said with a small shrug. You felt your lips tug up into a smile.

“How about you try kissing me again and we’ll see if that works,” you suggested.

Her hands were gentle as they came up to cup your cheeks. You waited, holding still until her lips brushed against yours. You lent into her, your tongue running along her lower lip in a mirror of hers earlier. Her mouth opened under yours, tongues brushing together. You moaned into her mouth, hands landing on the curve of her hips, pulling her closer.

Loud cheering startled you, a group of people bursting from the door of the stadium. You jerked back from Melissa, staring at them over your shoulder. With her hands still on your cheeks, she turned your face back towards her, laying another searing kiss on your lips.

“Come on, hon. I’ll drive you home,” she murmured against your lips.

“Or maybe you could take me out to dinner,” you said.

“I’ll think about it,” she said but she was smiling at you with a twinkle in her eye.

Her fingers threaded through yours, tugging you towards her car. There was a bounce in your step as you followed, biting down on your bottom lip to try and contain your smile. You did a really bad job of it.