#i feel dread when i see her on a run but shes also great

[maxaroniiiii]

i love game set in ancient greece where you get shot at with a gun 200 times and explode

[thirsty-4-ghouls]

“Hancock is bad with kids” “Hancock is bad with Shaun” no, well, maybe, but where I was getting at was, the objectively funniest dynamic there that I can think of is that Hancock does, indeed, not know what to do around kids BUT Shaun is super curious because of that and will not leave him alone. Hancock will be looking at sole like “I can’t handle this, i don’t know what to do, get your kid” and Shaun is just like “why do you dress like that? Do you still get sunburnt? Do you like lazer rifles? I like lazer rifles.” Like a cat that sees the person ignoring them and goes up to them for attention. And the funniest response from sole is something like “the sunburn question is rude, Shaun” and then they continue doing whatever they were before saying that.

[flowerandblood]

Hi, for the ask game you’re making

Glass cuts deepest

🖼️ Museum

🍁 Autumn

💐 Care

🎃 Jealousy

😬 Semi-public sex

🍓 Sexual tension

Congratulations on the milestone 😊!

The Art of Body

[ professor! • Aemond x student! • female ]

[ prompts: museum, autumn, jealousy, care, sexual tension, semi-public sex ]

[ warnings: unprotected sex, smut, mention of sexual trauma ]

A short written as a celebration of my 4000 followers milestone as part of this ask game, which is part of Glass Cuts Deepest story.

Rino Stefano Tagliafierro is the animation artist of François Boucher's "Leda and the Swan" 1740 [post by eucanthos]

______

"Are you sure? I don't want to force you to do anything. It's the middle of the school year, I'm sure there'll be a lot of people there." Wright muttered, looking at him with uncertainty.

He felt frustration, knowing what she meant by people.

Women.

The truth was that since they had been engaged, he had gradually but successfully managed to simply pretend that he didn't see them. When they were in a restaurant or on a walk he would focus only on her and on talking to her, often holding her hand – it made him feel safer, like when you are looking down a great precipice while holding on to the railing.

He was very proud of himself when one day they went to the cinema together to see an animation they both really wanted to watch – it turned out that there were women sitting on either side of their seats. Wright wanted to back out and just leave, recognising that they didn't need to see the film at all, but he was tired of running away all the time.

When they sat down, he shifted in his seat as close to Wright as possible, not wanting the person sitting next to him to touch him – his fiancée had been leaning over his ear throughout the screening, asking if everything was okay, and he only nodded.

He couldn't remember much of what he saw – he was unable to focus as he felt only the rapid pounding of his heart and the cold sweat on his back.

When they left the cinema, he felt relieved, but also proud, because he had done it – even though he felt sick a few times and wanted to vomit, he had endured and nothing had happened.

He felt that he was slowly ready to just go out to people and not wonder who he was passing on the way.

"I want to go there. It's the biggest museum in our country. We've been talking about it for a long time." He said, putting his black turtleneck over his head and sighed, seeing that he had ruined his elaborately styled hairdo by doing so.

Wright noticed this and involuntarily reached into his hair, trying to comb it properly again with her fingers.

He swallowed hard, simultaneously frightened and pleased that she had touched him so suddenly – he repeated to himself at times like this that he trusted her, her familiar scent and the warmth of her skin affecting him in a calming way.

"If you say so. Maybe you're right. I've wanted to see this place for a long time too." She admitted finally, and he smiled with satisfaction, looking at her out of the corner of his eye.

"Give me a moment. I need to change." She said, opening his wardrobe, looking in it probably for one of her dresses.

Some part of him wanted her to change in front of him – she never did. On the other hand, he dreaded it – he had never seen her naked – not completely.

He had never seen her bare breasts or buttocks, only felt them beneath his hands when he put his hand under her shirt.

He swallowed hard as she threw him a warm smile and locked herself in the bathroom, feeling both relieved and disappointed.

He waited patiently for her, and when he heard her come out, he froze – her floral dress was fastened from the front with large white buttons, a fluffy, light-coloured jumper over her shoulders. She had said something to him, probably that she was ready, but all he could think about was that she hadn't put her bra on.

He could easily see the shape of her nipples under the material and something about the sight frustrated him.

Why should others look at something that even he couldn't see?

He wanted to say it, but before he opened his mouth he thought it was unfair – he himself wouldn't want her to dictate what he could and couldn't wear, and he thought his remark might be rude.

"Let's go." He said finally.

It took them a couple of hours to get there – during this time Wright had bought them tickets for all the exhibitions online, so they wouldn't have to wait in long queues at the box office. He liked how organised she was – the fact that she always helped him and didn't leave everything on his head.

He felt he could rely on her.

When they got out of the car, they ran ahead, holding hands – an intense autumn rain had broken up all around them, which meant that by the time they reached the main entrance, they were all wet.

The security guard scanned their tickets and pointed the way they should follow – after a while, their eyes were met by spacious, bright, richly lit halls with walls filled with paintings by great artists, with sculptures of wood, bronze and marble all around them.

His fiancée approached one of the medieval statues depicting the Beautiful Madonna and Child, the one they both knew well from their art history textbooks.

"Look! It's even more beautiful than in the pictures." She said cheerfully, quickly grabbing her phone, taking pictures of the sculpture.

He, however, stared at her dully, seeing the wet material of her dress clinging to her skin, her nipples clearly outlined, popping from the cold.

He felt both irritation and desire at the sight, his manhood pulsed softly in his trousers, expressing his desire to touch her.

He grunted and turned his head away, walking over to one of the baroque paintings hanging on the wall, trying not to think about it.

I'm sexualising her too much, he rebuked himself in his mind, feeling a kind of shame by doing what he himself would never want to experience again in his life.

He regained his good humour and walked with her through the long corridors filled with art, stopping constantly at some artefact – they talked about everything, delighting in the workmanship and details together, while criticising what they didn't like.

He felt an unpleasant twinge in his stomach again when, standing at one of the sculptures, he saw that the man standing opposite them was looking straight at Wright's breasts – he would have thought he was being oversensitive again if it hadn't been for the slight smile of satisfaction on the man's lips, which told him that he was pleased with how much was visible through the thin material of her dress.

He didn't know why, but he grabbed her wrist and tugged at it, pulling her the other way, frustrated and enraged.

"What happened? Did someone touch you?" She mumbled, following him obediently, thinking it was all about him, as usual.

He stopped and looked at her, his heart pounding like mad in his chest.

"Did you have to dress like that? Everyone's looking at you." He hissed, but immediately regretted his words – Wright blinked and shook her head, horror and discomfort in her eyes, as if what he had said had caused her pain.

"What do you mean? I don't understand. After all, my dress doesn't even reveal my cleavage." She said resentfully, looking down, only after a moment noticing what he and everyone else had seen.

She looked at him again and pressed her lips together, covering her breasts with her jumper and her hands, as if the sight of them was something disgusting, worthy of condemnation.

He felt a sting in his heart at the sight – at the thought that she felt it was her fault that other men were looking where they shouldn't.

He swallowed hard and grabbed her hands, lowering them down, making her involuntarily reveal again what she had tried to cover up only moments before.

"– forgive me – I shouldn't have said that – it's just – fuck – I just I have a hard time with the idea that someone else might be... looking at something that even I couldn't see –"

"After all, you can look at it." She whispered, speaking so that no one could hear her. "Even now, if you want to."

"Now?" He muttered, surprised by her words.

What did she mean?

"We can go to the toilet and lock ourselves in the cabin. Our first time was like that too. You did it because the area around you didn't remind you of the place where you faced something bad. About the bed." She reminded him, and he swallowed loudly, realising it was true.

He looked down once more, at the thing he wanted so badly, and nodded slowly.

"Okay."

He felt like a little boy, unable to look at her in shame when the toilet door closed behind them. Once they made sure they were alone, they hid in one of the cabins and just looked at each other for a while.

He felt his heart thump harder in his chest as her hands slowly rose to the buttons of her dress – he watched in disbelief as she began to undo it one by one, his erection twitching and swelling in his trousers, aching with desire at the sight of her bare skin.

When she reached the height of her belly, she stopped and her hands dropped – her dress was unbuttoned, but revealed only a small line of her naked skin – he could see that she was breathing heavily as was he, panting with excitement.

Involuntarily, he took one slow step towards her, then another – his large hand rose uncertainly to the height of her chest and pushed the material of her dress aside in a gentle, lazy motion. He sighed deeply, immediately covering what he saw with his fingers, feeling himself breathe through his mouth out of lust – he looked into her eyes as her hand closed over his, encouraging him to sink deeper into the structure of her plump, soft bosom.

He leaned in and kissed her, unable to withstand the tension he felt inside – his lower abdomen was filled with a wonderfully familiar, warm, tickling sensation that made his length completely hard. He pressed his hips against her abdomen, rolling them back and forth, trying to somehow soothe the need for closeness and tenderness that only she could give him.

"– feels good? –" She breathed out into his mouth, letting their lips caress again and again with the sticky clicks of their saliva, the skin of her breasts wonderfully warm and swollen, melting beneath his fingers.

"– pull down your panties –" He instructed, and she moaned softly into his mouth, immediately obeying his command.

He let her go for a moment, dealing with his trousers, only to release his heavy, painfully swollen erection – as soon as her underwear landed on the ground, he grabbed her in his arms and lifted her, so that her breasts were at the level of his face.

They both cried out as at the same time his lips closed over her hard nipple and the head of his cock opened her wide – he gasped in pleasure, feeling how warm and moist she was, but not seeing anything that was happening from her waist down, covered by the material of her dress.

"– ah –" She mewled as his arms embraced her in a confident hug and pressed her body against the cold tiles, trying to keep her balance as he sank all the way into her body with one, sure thrust of his hips.

"– be quiet or I'll stop –" He threatened and they both froze when they heard someone enter – his cock pulsed inside her greedily as he simply continued with her in that position.

He felt her hands tighten in his hair, her hot pussy squeezed his manhood hard as his tongue swirled around her little nipple, teasing and sucking on it alternately.

He grunted quietly as he felt her begin to roll her hips – some part of him wanted to stop her, hearing that someone was still inside, however the other, more animalistic part of him just wanted to pound into her – and that's what he did.

He heard her squeal softly and she immediately pressed her face against his hair, trying to deafen the sound, as their naked bodies began to slam against each other with loud, sticky smacks of her moisture. He was no longer interested in whether or not the person inside knew what had just taken place – all he could focus on was their heavy, ragged breaths, the wonderful, growing tension in his loins, the squeeze in his testicles testifying that he was close.

He couldn't contain the low growl of delight that passed in vibration across her breast, couldn't contain how desperate he was, couldn't contain what euphoria possessed him at the thought of looking, smelling, touching her naked body, experiencing nothing but bliss.

"– Aemond –" She mumbled softly into his ear, so that only he was able to hear it – her small fingers clenched on his body allowing her to keep her balance and take what he was giving her, as shocked by what they were doing as he was.

All he could think about was how warm and wet she was, how easily she welcomed him deep inside her, how much she wanted him even though they had been together for so long.

The level of trust he held in her made him able to focus only on pleasure, and after a few messy, loud slaps he came inside her with a gasp of relief.

Her nails digging into his shoulders and hair made it almost painful when he felt her body shake with an aggressive, intense orgasm, causing her to stifle a moan with difficulty, making a quiet, whimpering sound.

"– shhh – shhh, little one –" He whispered, still deep inside her, feeling his manhood and her fleshy walls pulsing in one united rhythm, snuggled into her soft, warm chest.

The touch of her bare skin, her heart beating beneath his cheek was so wonderfully intimate, personal, sweet.

Why hadn't he done this before?

They were both relieved when they heard the sound of the water being drained in the other cabin, then the door opening and someone's footsteps indicating that they were alone.

"– Aemond – my legs are aching –" She mumbled, still crossing her calves on his back, supported only by his hands that held her buttocks.

"– just a little longer –" He muttered, pressing his face harder into the silky structure of her plump breasts.

Just a little longer.

[becomingmina]

FUCKBOY MIN. little series w/ LEEKNOW

18+ ONLY! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

pairing: lee minho x female reader genre + warnings: previous fkbuddy relationship, angst, smut mdni!, min is mean, oral (f recieving), semi-public (empty bathroom), hyunjin is a character wc: 3.4k mina's note: Minho is kinda mean. The way I would have done anything for him just so he can like me back. ❤️‍🩹

other works here ; any comments and thoughts you can drop them here ; ty for reading.

series chapter ➵ part two, part three ending one

"Isn't that Y/N?" Han asked looking over the older boy's shoulder.

Minho turns his head around and sees you amongst the crowd - of the very grand party he dreads. He feels himself tense up at the sight of you, he hasn’t seen you in a while and you looked as beautiful as ever. He can feel the corner of his lip turn up as he replays memories of him and you, and that’s when he realises he misses you.

But the feeling soon fades when he notices you’re with a guy. Only a month and you already found yourself a guy? Loud sweet giggles falls from your lips as you grip the man's biceps, laughing about nothings. He scoffs to himself as he recognises the man.

“Out of all the boys in this fucking city, she chose fucking Hwang Hyunjin?” Minho blurted, he was mad. “She’s got a type. Fuckboys,” he turns back around to Han and raises his brows, as if asking for him to agree with the statement.

“You’re not going to do anything right hyung?” Han nervously asked, knowing his hyung will definitely be doing something.

“She just looks too happy, Han. I gotta ruin it for her. Especially when it’s Hwang Hyunjin she’s fucking with,” Minho says before downing the rest of his drink and ditching the younger boy.

Minho met you a couple months ago at one of his mother’s grand get-together. He only came to these events in hopes to find a hook up or a quick fuck, he was never here to support his mom on what ever event-job-work-promotion she got herself into. He probably got with half of the girls who attended these parties with their rich parents.

“Imagine what your daddy would think of his sweet innocent daughter completely coming vulnerable underneath some guy she just met?” Minho would often whisper in their ears as he thrusts into them. He would say anything to get them to sleep with him then ghost them the next day, leaving them restless.

However you weren’t like any of these girls to him, well at first. Minho was addicted to you, he couldn’t put his finger on it but he kept coming back to you. After seeing you a few times, he proposed for you both to be fwb and you agreed, because to be very honest, Minho was hot and he was a great fuck, the best if you can say. Also, something about him felt very secure to you. Meaningless fucks turned into lingering kisses, then turned into secrets date nights. You both shared such gentle and heartfelt moments, like cooking dinner together to holding hands randomly. Minho became so romantic with you secretly, but he never sincerely voiced it. You fell for him. You wanted to do anything for him in hopes that he liked you back. You became obsessive, got restless, jealous that there was many other girls hovering around him. You wanted him to yourself, and it got to the point where you had pull him away one night, letting your tears run down your face as you admitted your feelings to him, intoxicated. And maybe because he never dealt with such heavy feelings and high emotions like this before that, he turned on you.

“Y/N, you're just like the other girls.. Maybe worse. Easy. Clingy. I would never like you back.. Are you crazy?" You couldn't believe it, he abandoned you. Minho ended up treating you just like all the other girls.

Now the other half of the girls that Minho didn’t hooked up with were probably sorted by Hwang Hyunjin. The city’s heartbreaker. Classic story of two best friends that now hates each other. Minho and Hyunjin grew up together, basically brothers due to their mother’s close friendship. But when the boys got older they grew apart. Times that was supposed be spent together catching up on a tv show or playing basketball turned into time spent with a girl trying to get her to undress underneath them. It was now a competition to see who played the most girls. Oh how toxic.

So when Minho saw you in the ballroom with Hyunjin, he assumed you two were sleeping together. Minho needed to get you alone before the end of the night.

He needed to ruin you, in order to ruin it for Hyunjin aswell.

“Should I get you another drink?” The long haired boy asked realising the glass in your hand was almost empty.

“I was actually eyeing the orange slices over there-” you pointed out, gesturing to the massive grazing table.

“-Mimosa?” He was quick to respond, tone so sweet and cheeky.

“You know me too well Hyunjin,” you smiled admiringly up at the boy.

“I’ll get the champagne, you get the oranges and we meet back here then,” he says, hints of his dorky smile showing.

You were finally alone.

"Hey baby," Minho speaks from behind you, his voice so deep, hands find their way to your hips sending chills down your spine. He used to call you that all the time, and your heart never fails to beat out of your chest from it.

Lee Minho. Why the hell was he behind you? Shouldn’t he breaking some poor innocent girl’s heart?

“I missed you.” You stood still at his words, unable to move.

No not this again.

"Minho, go away," you finally spoke, building up a wall that you know isn’t going to stay up.

"No. I need to talk to you baby. I missed you," he made sure you heard him, his hands now made its way higher to your waist. "You look so pretty tonight..” one hand rests on your waist as the other one slowly travels to your thigh. “I missed your pretty little body so much, baby,” his lips were so close to your face, the proximity is so familiar, so safe that you wanted to turn and press your lips on his. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” Minho had you under his spell, his presence was all it took for you to consider him again. You lean back, head taking its place on his shoulder as your back pressed on his chest. You tilt your head up slowly, finally looking at him. Oh, he was so beautiful as ever. His cute little bunny teeth showing from his agape mouth, his pretty sparkly eyes looking down at you, and his sharp nose, which you remember you use to peck so much. You missed him so much, you couldn’t resist it anymore.

“Min.” You say in the most vulnerable tone ever, gripping his forearm, giving in to him. He smiles at the nickname, the nickname only you were allowed to call him by.

"Come with me," and with that he yanked your arm dragging you through the crowd, for sure going to leave Hyunjin confused when he comes back.

Minho pulled you into an empty bathroom and pressed you against the door after locking it, instantly smashing his lips on to yours. His lips feels so soft against yours and your body hasn’t felt this rush of adrenaline in a while that you were going insane. Already feeling yourself start to go wet, you were so bothered, you needed more. Your teeth clashes as he practically devours you, his hand hoists one of your leg over his hip.

“Need you on the counter, bunny,” he murmured in between the kisses, there goes the nicknames again. He carries you to the counter, helping you up, your legs immediately spreading for him to slot himself in between. His hand slips underneath your dress, brushing against your clothed core.

“Already so wet for me,” he smirks, feeling the patch on your panties. “Can I?” He asked tapping his finger twice on your core. You nodded throwing your head back and he accepts the invitation to suck on your neck, leaving marks. Minho’s fingers pulls your panties to the side, his pointer finger finally runs through your folds. You were so warm, so sticky already that Minho let out a moan into your neck, unable to control the pleasure he was also having. You jolted forward when his fingers finally entered you pumping you slowly, causing him to let out an airy scoff. “Need to taste, let me taste?” You nod again knowing every time Minho ate you out, he would reward you with his dick for being such a good girl. You wanted that again.

“Need to hear you say it, Y/N,” he stops his movements, to brush your hair out of your face adoring your features.

Verbal consent has always been a big thing to Minho. He has so much control when the other person expresses what they want. It feeds into his already massive ego seeing the other person submit to him, makes him feel like he was in winning. And right there and then when he asked that question he wanted you to submit, so he can feel bigger than Hyunjin.

“Yes, please Min. I want it,” you gave him exactly what he wanted. You missed this. You missed his body and how he fucked you, how he made love to you. You miss Minho. You miss how sweet and gentle he was. How he would text you if you got home okay after spending the entire day with him. How innocent and lovely he can be talking about his cats, his hobbies. You wanted him to like you back, to want you back that you were willing to let him do anything to you, to use you.

“You’re still so good baby,” he buttered you up pressing a kiss your lips once more, letting it linger on a bit before dropping to his knees. He bundles your thin long dress around your waist, pulling down your soaked panties and burying them deep in his pocket. He is met with your pretty pussy, glistening with arousal. Your scent takes him by surprise and he goes numb. Oh, how he remembers it all so well, he would spend forever in between your legs on a Sunday afternoon. He parts your thighs and moves his face closer to your cunt, finally sliding his tongue in your slit. You still taste as sweet as ever too and that was all it took for Minho to devour you, to eat you out like a starved man. You lean back on one hand and the other one finds its place in Minho’s hair keeping it there. He was so good with his tongue, alternating between giving fat stripes, kitten licks and harsh sucks on your clit. Minho was getting you closer to your orgasm. Moans and whimpers falls from your lips as you allow him to hear how good he is making you feel.

“Feels good baby? You still taste so sweet, I just know you’re still going to be so tight." he removes himself from you just so he can glance up at your fucked out state nodding to every word he was saying.

“Want to- to cum,” you needed to cum, you were on the verge of tears feeling the tension in your stomach start to fade..

“Hm?”

“Please, I want to cum Min,” you restates and he dives back down. He grips your thighs as he makes out with your pussy, his nose hitting your clit every now and then to get you going again. Minho picks up his pace, moving his kisses to your clit where he then sucks harshly earning a sharp moan from you. You jolt forward, thighs closing around him, throwing your head back as you spray Minho with your sweet release. You feel him smirk against your pussy, his mouth and chin coated in your arousal. That wasn’t enough for you, you wanted more. Your hand pushes his head further into your cunt as you grind down in his nose, riding out your high. Minho lets you use him, his tongue still overstimulating you until you were satisfied. Frankly, he found it hot how after just one taste you go feral for him.

He licks his lips cleaning himself off as he gets up from your legs, helping you pull down your dress. He cages you between his hands that are now resting on the counter, you don’t move. Just staring up at him, he examines your features again, taking all everything that he used to adore. Something about this moment just feels so innocent to both of you, that Minho can help but give you small giggles, his lips turning into a smile. You mirror it in return, sitting in silence as you both recalls the old times.

A sudden buzz of your phone causes you both to snap out of the sweet moment, heads turning to the device next to you on the counter. And Minho grows hot, his reputation overshadowed his feelings for you the second he saw Hyunjin’s name pop up. He lets out a scoff, remembering why he got you in this bathroom in the first place.

Minho's leans in slowly, one hand still gripping on the counter but the other comes up close to your face. Your phone forgotten now. You think he's about to kiss you but he dodges your lips, making his way by your ears as he lets out an airy chuckle, he sounded so cocky you were taken by surprise at his sudden change in demeanour.

"God, Y/N. You're still so easy," His tone deep aiming an attack on you as he reaches for the paper towel dispenser behind your head. He pulls out a towel throwing it to you, to clean yourself up. "Still so desperate for me". It broke you. He has never done this to you before, usually he'll be on after care and cleaning up. Your head snaps to his face, taking in his smirk and dark eyes. You swallow hard, a salty taste coat your tongue and you realise you're trying you best to not cry.

“Are you this desperate for Hyunjin too?” you furrowed your brows together in response. What?

“Hmm?” You asked confused.

“You got a type Y/N, you’re so pathetic.” He continues, the vibrating of your phone doesn't help but fuels his anger.

"Min, what do you mean?" It was clear to you that Minho and Hyunjin weren’t the best of friends when you meet with Minho. But that night when Minho abandoned you, Hyunjin witnessed the whole thing. He help you get up, covering you with his his coat, wiping away your tears and took you home.

"What are you doing here with Hwang Hyunjin?" he finally asked. But you don't respond, instead you hop off the counter, unable to control how hurt you are from his previous act. Your eyes sparkle, cheeks pink, lips trembling. He takes in your reaction, making him feel a bit guilty as he has seen this all before. The night you admitted your feelings.

"You guys fucking?" this time his tone and eyes soften, it was like he needed to confirm it first before continuing to take out his anger and tension on you. You reach for your phone but he snatches before you could, declining the call sliding it across the counter where you can’t reach.

"Does he fuck you as good as I do?" He moves in closer, your noses barely touching. "He treats you better than I do?" You stay quiet.

You didn't know what to answer. Do you lie? Do you teel the truth? Regardless at the end of this Minho isn't coming back to you right? You realised the moment he called you pathetic.

He moves in to kiss your cheek, a gentle peck. Your heart starts to race even more, unable to look him in the eyes. One hand comes up to hold your face, thumb rubbing against your cheeks. "Come on baby, tell me and I'll give you what you want," his lips comes in contact with yours. You melt into the kiss, your hands grasping the waist band of his trousers. Snap out of it, Y/N. "Hmm, you going to be good and tell me? He kisses you better than I do?" He kisses you harder, helping you back up the counter. He takes back his initial position, in-between your legs. Minho moves his kisses down your neck as his hands advances to your shoulders, pulling the thin straps down exposing your chest. He gulps at the sight and latching his lips onto your boob, his hand groping the other one. You tired your hardest not to give in but you cant, the feeling is too strong. You whimper at the contact, your hand palming his hard on through his pants. It was the first time you touched him that night and Minho throws his head back, unable to control the sexual frustration.

"Fuck- see what you do to me, baby?" He coos. You undo his belt, pulling his trousers along with his boxer down, meeting with his big cock. He was already so red, a bead of pre cum already spilling frim his tip. You grab the base of his cock, holding it firmly giving him a gentle pump. Just like the way you always did. Fuck Y/N I missed this so much. Minho finds himself addicted again as he shuts his eyes, a little moan slipping from his lip. You continue to pump him and he tries his best not to give into you but your hands felt so good, he could cum like this. You lean forward attaching your lips to his neck, leaving marks just like he did to you before. “Want you Min,” you whimper on his skin. You needed to feel him inside you.

"Answer me first, Y/N." He was getting irritated at your lack of answer. God, why are you so caught up on this Minho! Your phone rings again, the buzzing noises incites his thought, and that was the breaking point for him. Hwang Hyunjin. Only Y/N would want such a pathetic man like him. "I'm not fucking you if you’re dirty Y/N," he says and you halt your movements, completely removed yourself from him.

"What?" You replied. Minho is now faced with your confused face.

"You're so desperate Y/N. I can’t believe you’re with Hyunjin right after I left you? You're so dirty for that,” Minho repeat himself moving closer to you to provoke you, he was sure you had given yourself to the other bloke. Your lack of answer confirmed it for him too. “Did you fuck Hyunjin?" But he was determined to hear it.

You took a deep sigh, and all the names and remarks he had made to you tonight flooded your head. You’re hurt. God, Y/N you are pathetic. You wanted to turn this on him but you couldn’t. Regardless of what you answer, you couldn’t win and Minho won’t be yours.

"No I didn't because I love you, Min," you confessed, pushing him off you. You proceed to pull up your dress and jump off the counter. You needed to leave him.

You brushed past him retrieving your phone and bag, unlocking the door and walking out.

Leaving him the way he left you, abandoned. Although it was your feelings that he disregarded, leaving him while he was hard and sexually unsatisfied like this would have hurt the same for a fuck boy like him.

But Minho wasn’t hurt by that. Your words was the thing that stung him. Shes loves me? No one had ever done this to Minho, he didn't know what to do. Such a similar feeling to how you felt - when he ghosted you and just now.

His words still played in your mind, they're still lingering around you. You wanted to sob, cry your heart out but you couldn't just yet, only allowing the tears to build in your eyes. Did you really just let him treat you like that? You chose pleasure again instead of protecting your already broken heart. Minho was right, you are fucking easy. You see the exit through your blurry vision and you rushed to it, pushing into the many people that was just crowding around. Just as you're about to leave a hand pulls you back.

"Y/n, you okay?" You turned around to meet with Hyunjin, and you couldn't help but burry your face in his chest as you let your tears fall.

"I hate him," you cried loudly, your whole body shaking and your legs go numb. Hyunjin hugs you, both arms wrapped around you tightly as he lets you become completely vulnerable. You were safe with him.

"I know.. Let's go home."

[sports-on-sundays]

Ahhh okay okay okay so inspired by Fermin having a gf now ( sad hours ) but anyway !! What if y/n has feeling for Fermin and she gets the courage to tell him about her feelings buuut she finds out that he has a gf and she starts to move on with Charles or Arthur 🤭 and Fermin finds out about her feelings but it’s already to late !

too late / Arthur Leclerc

Summary: Arthur x female!reader - When you find out your crush has a girlfriend, you start to move onto someone else. But when you're old crush, Fermín, finds out you once had feelings for him, though he's not sure anything would have changed, he still, for some reason, wished he would have known.

Warnings: a bit of anxiety/nervous energy, vertigo, swear

Requested?: Yes.

You sit on a bench outside a cute little coffee shop, listening as the person talking to you on the other side of the phone finishes, "...so yeah, anyways, it's super cool I got to meet you!"

"Yeah," you smile broadly. "You'll have to introduce me to your brother, too."

"Oh, of course. You know, I think we could be fri-"

"Oh, one second! Looks like my friend is here! Sorry, I got to go!" you respond quickly, your face lighting up to see none other than Fermín López sauntering down the street towards you, the biggest, cutest smile radiating off his handsome face.

"Oh, right, sorry- Nice talking to you!" the man on the phone says quickly with a little laugh.

And you hang up on Arthur Leclerc, popping up off the park bench to meet Fermín, slipping your cellphone into your gold purse. You beam at Fermín, exclaiming, "Hey! Ready to get some coffee?"

"Sure..." he says, a slight hint of confusion in his voice, perhaps at your overly energetic excitement this morning.

Well, that's because he has no idea what you're planning on doing this morning. Naturally.

"Well, you seem like you're in a good mood," the Spanish man says with a little smile, holding the door for you.

"I am! Actually, I'm in a great mood!" you exclaim, beaming.

"Right," he chuckles, eyes sparkling a bit.

Just as you order the coffee, rethinking for the one hundredth time what you're about to do, butterflies well up in your chest, so that the moment you're sitting across from him at the coffee table, you immediately say excitedly, "So, uh, Fermín! I've got... uhm, kind of, I guess, to admit, but also to ask you..."

He smiles a bit, nodding. "Is this why you seem to have all this nervous pent-up energy this morning? Sure, you can tell me anything."

You gulp, your high emotions very suddenly sinking at the thought that Fermín is exactly right.

You're only feeling this nervous because you're a nervous wreck, Y/n! your brain snaps at yourself.

All the sudden, you deflate like a short-lived balloon, releasing a long sigh as your hands immediately reach for a napkin to absently begin anxiously curling. "Um... yeah, so..."

Come on, Y/n. Just say it. A few moments ago, you were so excited...!

You sigh shakily before suddenly blurting, looking up to meet the 21-year-old's brown eyes, "Fermín, I guess I just wanted to say I like you. You're cute, and I... I've kind of had feelings for you for a while now, so..." you falter, feeling so embarrassed and warm, before pushing out the rest: "So, would you like to, like, date me or something? Like, do you feel the same way, I guess?"

"Oh, uhm-" Fermín begins, biting his lip. "Well, uh, thank you so much, Y/n, but..." he trails off as your heart begins to sink in dread.

You feel all the blood rush from your head, feeling a little dizzy. "But what?" you manage.

"But, well..." he smiles nervously, before finishing carefully, "Y/n, I guess you didn't hear, but I have a girlfriend now..."

Immediately, you feel a terrible, crushing, embarrassing shame crash over you, and you lean back, your hands shaking. "Oh- I-" you begin, but decide nothing you're going to say is going to make this situation better for either of you.

So you get up and run out of the coffee shop, leaving your nearly full coffee across the table from Fermín, to get cold and eventually be dumped down the sink.

For the next week, you kind of go into a state of depressed hermitage, out of the pure embarrassment and heartbreak of the single guy who you've been crushing on for over a year getting a girlfriend right before you decide to admit your emotions, basically making you feel like absolute crap. And making you look like a total fool.

You sigh, getting home from work one day and flopping on your couch, about to put on some stupid mindless television show to redirect your thoughts, when suddenly your phone begins ringing on the coffee table. You sigh and pick it up, and just stare at the screen for a few seconds when you see it's none other than Arthur Leclerc.

About a week before the incident with Fermín, so about two weeks ago now, you had the experience of your life, getting to go to a Formula 1 Grand Prix. You happened to, by sheer luck, to run into Arthur Leclerc, who was immediately extremely friendly and seemed to take a specific liking to you. You had a good conversation together, before he said he had to get going, but quickly wrote down his phone number for you, telling you to stay in touch, because he'd love to get to know you more.

So here you are, a heartbroken mess about Fermín López, staring at your phone as Arthur Leclerc tries to call you.

What's up with me and all these famous athlete sports boys?

You sigh, and though you really don't want to- in fact, it's kind of the last thing you feel like doing right now- you answer the call and press the phone to your ear, saying tentatively, "Hello...?"

"Hey, Y/n!" comes the cheery accented voice of the Monégasque. "Just calling, seeing how you're doing, and what you're up to!"

"Oh..." you sigh, not really sure what to say.

But Arthur immediately picks up on your lack of excitement. "Is something wrong?"

You're silent for a few moments, before figuring, Ah, what the heck? Might as well just tell him. The Leclerc's seem like they could be a relatively emotionally intelligent family, anyway, and saying simply, "Well, I haven't been doing so great, because a guy I really have been liking for a while kind of... rejected me. You see, he has a girlfriend, and I didn't know that..." You're still not sure why you're telling Arthur this, but regardless, it feels good to.

"Oh, shit. I'm sorry about that... That sucks... Well..." He's silent for a few seconds, before continuing, "Maybe I have some news that might cheer you up?"

"What?" you ask, not quite sure if anything could cheer you up about Fermín, until you finally just get over him yourself.

But then, just like that, Arthur Leclerc drops, "Would you like to come to the Monaco Grand Prix? I'll be there, and you said you wanted to meet my brother!"

You sit, stunned silent for a few seconds, before finally the rational side of your brain wins over and you say, "Oh, Arthur, I'd love to, but I just don't think I'll be able to. I live in Barcelona; that's not exactly a stroll away from Monte Carlo. And besides that, travelling, food, ticket, and lodging expenses would be through the roof. I'm so incredibly sorry to say this, but I just don't think something like that can work."

"Well, I do think it can work," Arthur suddenly chimes.

You sit in confused silence for a few more seconds, before saying, kind of annoyed at the rich Monaco-dweller, "How can you even say that?"

"Because," he begins, and somehow you can just tell he's smirking, "It's a short flight, and I can pay for your plane ticket, as well as your race ticket, paddock pass, you know, the works. And as for food and lodging, you can stay with me, of course!"

You sit, gaping and completely stunned silent this time, so much so that Arthur has to ask, "Uh... Are you still there, Y/n?"

"I- Y- Yeah, I am... I'm here... I just... Arthur-! Why on earth would you do all that for me?! We only met once! We're basically strangers! This is, like, our fourth conversation ever! You're crazy!"

"Call me crazy, but I've taken a liking to you, I guess. And you're pretty, and have got a heart of gold, and I think it would be cool to make a dream of yours come true. Or- a couple of your dreams come true, even. If that's okay with you!"

"What do you mean, if it's okay with me? Of course it's okay with me, but- it's just-"

"Alright, good, then! It's okay with you! I'll arrange everything for you, then, and I'll see you for the Monaco Grand Prix weekend?"

"I- I mean, I-"

"I'll see you then; au revoir!"

You sit on your couch, slowly taking the phone down away from your ear, just staring at it, your mouth still slightly hanging open, sort of frozen from whatever just happened.

What did just happen?!

"Hey!" Arthur Leclerc beams, swiftly walking up to you and taking your bags straight out of your hands, before teasing, "What, do you never fly? You look thoroughly lost!" He laughs a little.

"No, no," you laugh, snapping out of it, beaming to see the Monégasque man in front of you. "Just... yeah, anyways, great to see you again! And I still can't thank you enough for everything you're doing for m-"

"Oh, just wait to say one big 'thank you' at the end of the weekend, and let yourself enjoy the moment now. Come on, let's get to my house to drop off your stuff, and then, I'll bring you to dinner with my family."

"Wait, sorry, what?!" you ask in shock, following after him. "Did you just say dinner with your family?!"

"Yes, I sure did!" the 23-year-old beams as you catch up to him. "Just you wait and see- you'll love them!"

"This still doesn't feel right... We hardly know each other, and you're bringing me to meet your family?"

"Yeah, of course," Arthur says as he gets out of his car and comes around to open the door for you, before finishing, "I mean, Alexandra is going to be there!"

"Isn't she Charles's girlfriend," you deadpan.

"M-hm," Arthur responds with a little smile. "But it doesn't matter. Besides, if we get to know each other more, maybe one day you will be my girlfriend."

You stop walking up to the house and just stand there, gaping at him. "You're- You're so forward, my God!"

"What?" the older individual teases. "You don't like that?"

"I mean- I don't know- I guess I just wasn't expecting that..."

"Oh," he grins. "Well, it's funny when you gape at me like that. Either way, so far at least, you sure seem like my type." He grabs your wrist and says, pulling you toward the house, "Anyways, on we go!"

"Right..." you breathe, your head swirling from those words said by him.

Dinner is great with Arthur's family, and it's a dream come true to meet the Charles Leclerc (you're a huge fan), but it doesn't, surprisingly enough, get interesting until you make it make to Arthur's home, when he says, upon seeing you yawn, "Want to come to my room, and we can go to bed? I'm sleepy myself; it's been a long day for me, too."

You blink at him hesitantly, saying, "You're saying this in a way suggesting we're both sleeping in your room."

He's silent for a few seconds, before he nervously smiles and says, "Yeah... if that's okay with you."

You stare at him before a few seconds, before saying tentatively, "Okay... I guess."

So later, though you would've never, ever imagined this happening a week ago, you're all in your comfy pajamas, crawling into bed next to none other than Arthur Leclerc.

"You don't think this is... wrong, or anything?" you venture as you lay down.

He snorts, putting his arm around you. "No. Why would it be? We're just cuddling."

"Exactly!"

"And I want to get to know you more. So what's on your mind?"

You sigh. "What's on my mind is that it feels weird to be cuddling with someone the fifth time I've met them."

Suddenly Arthur has a cheeky smile on his face as he jokes, "Have you ever heard of one-night-stands? It means on the first time people meet-"

"Arthur!" you groan, rolling your eyes in slight amusement.

He just pats your shoulder, before a moment of silence follows, that for some reason doesn't feel awkward at all, though you would expect it to.

No, not at all. It's almost comfortable. Nearly comforting.

And when Arthur finally does start talking again, it's nice. He starts a conversation, and now, all the sudden, you feel willing to engage in it with him.

As the night goes further on, your voices become even more hushed, until, after hours of just laying and chatting together, Arthur's arm around you and rubbing your shoulder gently, when he's gently whispering, mid-sentence, you begin to doze.

There's a few seconds of silence from Arthur, until he whispers, "You asleep, Y/n?"

When he gets no response but your gentle, warm, steady breathing, he smiles and cuddles in closer, before closing his eyes and letting himself drift off into peaceful slumber as well.

For the rest of the whole weekend, you have a blast with Arthur in Monaco, every minute spent with him becoming more and more enjoyable. All you can think is that he may have been onto something with all his cuddling and silly flirting.

And now you stand in the Ferrari garage, your whole face lit up, adrenaline pumping through your body as you watch Charles Leclerc cross the finish line before any other driver.

In Monaco.

You feel Arthur's strong arm throw itself around your shoulders, pulling you to his side as he says near your ear, "Oh my God, Y/n... Charles won..."

You laugh a bit before looking up to meet Arthur's sparkling eyes. He's got a huge grin on his face, pure joy radiating off his being, and you squint, seeing a wet glistening on his cheeks, before suddenly realising and exclaiming, "Are you crying?!"

He grins even wider, if that's even possible, and says, his eyes searching yours and finding whatever they were looking for, "Yeah, and so what?"

You breathe shakily and suddenly, though you would've never pictured yourself doing this ever, throw your arms around Arthur Leclerc in a tight embrace. "I'm so happy for you!" you squeal, pressing your cheek into his chest.

"You should be happy for Charles!" he beams, laughing, snatching your hand. "And, anyways, let's go meet him by the finish line and watch him lift his trophy!" And just like that, the two of you are off running to see the 2024 Monaco Grand Prix race winner.

At the beginning of the weekend, you barely knew Arthur Leclerc. He was a nice guy who had shown a bit of interest in you who just so happened to be a rich racer boy from Monaco with a heart of gold. But by the end of the weekend, it almost feels natural to hug him, or pat his shoulder, or hold his hand.

Before the Monaco Grand Prix weekend, your heart and head still ached and pounded every single living moment, second of your time, reminding you of the loss and the jealousy you were feeling concerning Fermín López. Now, it all feels washed away with the affection and friendship that's been shown to you by Arthur Leclerc.

All of the sudden, you don't feel a desperation for Fermín anymore. You're content with having Arthur's contact in your phone, and knowing he's just as interested in you as you are in him.

It feels good when emotions are mutual.

So going back to Barcelona, it's different than when you left for Monaco.

There's a warmth in your chest and an excitement for what's to come, rather than the cold dread and regret you felt in such unbearable amounts when you left.

For days, you can't get Arthur out of your spinning head, and all the things about him you accidentally fell in love with.

But with Fermín, I never really did have a chance... But Arthur? Arthur started this whole thing. Clearly, he likes me.

And just as you're laying in bed in the morning, grinning about that instead of getting up to get dressed, your phone buzzes on your nightstand. You look over and snatch it up, excited that it may be a message from Arthur, but just stare when you open your phone and see it is instead from Fermín.

You don't know how to feel.

You quickly look to see what he's texted you.

Fermín: Hey I saw from your socials you went to the Monaco grand prix. I hope it was fun. want to meet up sometime?

You sigh, staring at that. Before, without a shadow of a doubt, no hesitation, you would have immediately said 'yes,' and been thoroughly excited about it.

But now, something has changed.

You sigh and decide, sort of on a whim, to just call him, instead.

He pick ups after only a few rings with, "Hello?"

"Hi, Fermín... What's up?"

"I'd like to know what's up with you! You went to the Monaco Grand Prix! How was it? Who'd you go with?"

"Oh," you smile a little. "Actually, I went with Charles Leclerc's little brother, Arthur Leclerc. I got to meet Charles and a bunch of the other drivers, but Arthur is famous in his own right, too."

"Oh, wow... Well, cool! So have you known Arthur Leclerc for a while, or...?"

You chuckle. "Actually, no. But he had a great time. I really like him, to be honest. He's really sweet; his whole family is."

"Ah..." Fermín says, kind of trailing off, before picking up and saying, "Oh, I looked up Arthur's Instagram. They're from Monaco, right?"

"Yeah, and Charles won! It was awesome!"

"Oh..." More silence, before Fermín finally says, "There's a picture of you and him on one of his posts... Are you guys dating or something?"

"Huh? No, why?"

"He's kissing your cheek in the picture."

You immediately blush and groan, "Arthur! Why did he post that one?!" You sigh. "No, we're not dating, but we both like each other a lot."

"Oh. You do?"

"Yeah, he's really super sweet. I'm so glad I met him; we really just clicked right away..."

"Oh... that's good to hear..." Fermín responds, not exactly feeling it was, for some reason.

After he gets off the phone with you, as he drives to training, he's deep in thought.

He knows you liked him, and probably did for a while. And asked him on a date soon after he started dating his girlfriend. But there was something about knowing you liked him, and knowing you're so sweet, that...

Perhaps a small little idea in the back of his head said, Well if this doesn't work out, I always know Y/n will be there.

And besides that, he's always valued your friendship so much. It feels weird to hear you moved on so fast to this race car driver dude.

As Fermín pulls into the parking lot, all he can think is a grave, I wish I would've known. I don't know if it would've changed anything, but either way, it's too late now...

[fieldofdaisiies]

Alone

ship: Theodore Nott x Hufflepuff!Reader type: angst/fluff word count: 2,6k words warnings: mentions of racist parents, awful parent child relationship, talk of war and Death Eaters summary: Y/N and Theo are childhood friends, when she receives a howler from her mother that breaks her, he is there for her. (I'll blame @azrielscrown for her amazing Theo stories and hence making me want to write about him, and also @moonlightazriel for the tiktok videos she sent me hahaha)

It is quiet. So very quiet. All of a sudden everyone stops talking. There aren’t even any hushed whispers. Nothing.

It is so quite that one could hear a needle drop. 

So quiet that even the mice in the smallest nooks and corners of the castle could hear your mother’s voice blaring out of the howler that has just unfolded itself in front of you. Its tongue poking out, the howler spats the exact same words your mother shouted into it in your family manor.

The words drip with venom. Disdain and disappointment lace every spoken syllable. 

Your blood runs cold, your chin quivering, as you watch and listen in absolute shock. Your whole body has gone rigid, you don't even dare turn to glance around, not wanting to see the either mocking or pitiful looks of your school mates. 

How would she know? How does she know? And why is she so mad? 

It was just a school project, not your decision to spend time with him. You had to spend time with Harry Potter — it was for a Potions project, preparing a recipe, trying it out and then presenting it in class. It was project where you were assigned partners. A project where you were forced to spend time together. And even if you don't hate Harry, you would not have chosen to do the project. But you had no choice.

'The shame you brought upon this family by being sorted into Hufflepuff.'

There is a pause, and it is so long, so dreadful, so painful, and you just hope the letter won’t continue talking. Maybe it is over and the letter will just rip itself into shreds — the same shreds your heart has been ripped into when the letter started howling.

Or maybe a hole in the ground will open, and swallow you wholly? A ghost will appear and take you with him? A giant will crash both you and the letter?

But your prayers are ignored. Of course they are…

'And now, now you are doing partner work with him? Spending your free afternoons with him? What comes next? Dating a Muggle? Marrying one?'

'Y/N Y/L/N, in this house I allow none of that!'

Your best friend slides her hand into your cold one, squeezing it tightly. She is the purest and kindest soul Hufflepuff house has ever seen and in this very moment you are more grateful to have her than ever before. She somehow grounds you, stops your body from shaking or convulsing fully. 

'I am deeply disappointed. So very much. What you do to this family, the shame you bring upon us.'

That’s how the letter ends. No well wishes, no goodbye, no I love you, no motherly love. Nothing.

You are shocked, sad, embarrassed — feeling too much. Too many emotions. Your heart can’t take them, can’t deal with them all at once and you know you have to leave, get away, escape. Cry. And be alone. 

You need to get out of the Great Hall. And that right now. 

You know your friends want to support you, comfort you, but sometimes you just need to be alone.

Your voice sounds choked, throat constricted, as you climb over the bench, the howler still in pieces on the table.

"I am sorry, I need to be alone now." You run, weaving your way through the pupils crowded in the Great Hall and the corridors outside. Tears start to burn behind your eyes, clouding your vision and your throat starts to burn. 

You run, run until your feet ache, slumping down on the ground, sliding down the ball. And then the damn breaks. Hot, burning tears rolling down your cheeks, as one ragged sob after the other leaves you. 

It hurts so much, growing up in a family like this. It is so painful. Your mother's words, laced with venom, still reverberate through your mind, loud and awful, filling every fibre of your being. A cool shiver makes its way down your spine, making you shiver. 

You draw in a deep inhale, your breathing shaky, lower lip quivering. Closing your eyes, you let your head rest against the wall, replaying every single word she said to you. 

The eerie silence of the corridor and your calm sobs are suddenly interrupted by the faint echo of footsteps nearing. You have no time to make guesses who it could be, finding you sitting behind a corner, back pressed against the wall to almost become invisible. 

"Are you…alright?"

It is strange seeing him like this. He is always so confident, so cocky, arrogant, silver-tongued. And not so…reserved, and at a loss for words. Your desperate state has probably shocked him, you think, trying to hold his gaze, but the tears are coming back again. 

"I am…fine," you croak, the lie in your voice louder than the Howler you received earlier. 

Theo breathes out a cold chuckle. "That was the worst lie I've ever heard, Y/N."

His voice is flat, his expression stoic. He just looks at you, his normally confident demeanour nowhere in sight. "And I thought you Hufflepuffs are those goody-two-shoes who never lie."

You watch how the corner of his mouth tips upwards, but only shortly. He quickly presses his lips in a thin line, something he has always done when thinking deeply. A crease appears on his forehead, eyes solely focused on you.

You have known Theo basically since the day you were born. He is two months older than you, both of you coming from noble pureblood families, your father's had once been good friends, are still probably, but you don't really know. When you were placed in Hufflepuff…things changed. 

Also the friendship with Theo changed. He got distanced, you did too. Being friends with him was somehow no longer possible, and still isn't. You are not rude towards each other, he also always stayed out when the Slytherins mocked you and your housemates, but he has also never sought you out to spend time with you…and neither did you.

You have been growing apart and this is alright — some friendships are not forever. Or at least that is what you always tell yourself. 

"I…I just had to get out."

He nods, slowly, and in understanding. "I always come here when I want to be alone."

"Yes, that is why I am here, I want to be alone." You hope he gets the memo…that you want to be alone. Fully alone.

Not deigning him another look, you bury your face in your hands again, knees pulled up to your chest. It is not in your nature to be rude to anyone, but…

"I know I should probably leave…" But he moves closer.

"I heard what the howler said and I don’t really want to—"

"Everyone heard what the Howler said." A humourless chuckle escapes you and you lift your head. Theo is already looking at you, his eyes, meeting your red and puffy ones. Pain flashes in his eyes, bright and stark and you feel yourself shiver.

He nods slowly, almost like he wants to tell you it is not the truth, hoping it will ease the pain and discomfort a little, but he says nothing. And that for a long moment. Until—

He closes the distance between the two of you, claiming the spot on the ground beside you. 

"I am sorry," he says, stretching out his long legs and leaning his head against the stone wall behind him. "I am so sorry for what she said and that everyone had to hear."

"It is not your fault, you don't have to apologise." You furrow your brows as you turn to look at him. 

His eyes are filled with concern. You can still feel the embarrassment, the way the entire hall had turned to watch as the red envelope exploded in a blaze of your mother's fury and rage. Everyone became witness to your misery…

You swallow hard, trying to push the memory aside, but it lingers like an illness that just won't get better. 

"Y/N," Theo says, his voice softer than what you are used to. "I can't believe she sent you this letter…"

"Howler," you correct him, wearing a forced smile.

The corner of his mouth curls up, and he casually runs a hand through his hair. "Indeed, a Howler, you smartass."

You chuckle, and playfully nudge him with your elbow. But then you shake your head, take a deep breath and shrug."You know how she is. Always expecting more, always disappointed in me."

Theo reaches out, his hand brushing gently against yours. He does not take your hand into his, just rests it next to yours on the ground, your pinkies touching. "You don't have to listen to her, Y/N. You're so much more than what she thinks of you."

You draw in a shaky breath, thankful about his presence.

Funny, you think. You would not have thought that exactly his presence would bring you so much comfort now. You had wanted to be alone just moments before, but talking to him feels somehow good. "Thank you," you say.

He smiles. "Of course." But he does not look away, keeps holding your gaze, his hand shifting the tiniest bit, his pinkie finger now placed on top of yours.

The dimly lit sconces cast eerie flickers of light upon the stone walls, and also on you two. His lashes look longer in this light, casting shadows across his cheeks, his eyes looking so much deeper. And soon you realise you are staring at him. 

It feels like he leans closer, but you could also be mistaken.. And yet, his presence wraps around you, like a gentle embrace or a warm winter coat. And, with his voice barely above a whisper, Theo says. "You deserve so much better than this."

Tears glisten in your eyes once more. His gaze is intense, filled with an emotion you have not really seen on him before. "Thank you for being here for me."

"I am your friend, of course I am." 

Your expression must have given you away.

He huffs, and lowers his chin to his chest. "Well, at least I hope we are still friends…"

For a long moment silence stretches out between you because first of all, you did not expect that statement and secondly, you don't know how to answer.

Are you really friends? Still?

You’ve doubted it in the past years, you’ve never talked to each other, unless you had to do so in class. You’ve never spent time together. This is not what you would call a friendship. 

"I don't know, are we?" you answer honestly, and a small smile appears on his face. "I can't blame you for not considering me your friend anymore…"

It is still strange seeing him like this. He has never been like this…so vulnerable somehow. 

"I know I should have been here for you so much more in these past years."

This is not at all what you expected, and it confuses you greatly. Is he blaming himself for not being here? You also did not reach out to him, you did not seek him out, and you are in different houses.

"There is no blame on you!" Your voice is stronger, firmer, wanting him to see that it is absolute bullshit that he is talking. "Why would you say something like this?"

He shrugs. "I am…" He does not continue, only draws in a deep inhale, and leans his head against the wall. His eyes close for a moment.

There has always been a connection between you, a connection that is still somehow there, even though you might no longer be friends. The kind of friends you once used to be.

You also lean back against the wall, your own eyes closing, his finger still touching yours. It is such a tiny gesture, but you feel it everywhere. Feel him so strongly. 

Theo breaks the silence, his voice quieter when he says. "Y/N, I want you to know...I've always cared about you more than just a friend."

Your heart skips a beat, and you open your eyes, turn your head and look up at him, your eyes meeting his gaze. "Theo..."

"I know it's complicated," he continues, his hand now flipping yours over and taking it into his. "I can't pretend anymore. And seriously, if Draco or Blaise would see me like that right now…stumbling over my own words, they would call me the biggest fool on this planet, but I need you to know…"

He groans almost like in frustration, and squeezes your hand. 

"In Salazar's name, why is this so fucking hard?" A chuckle escapes him, but you only look at him, not sure if you are ready for his confession. 

"I'm in love with you, Y/N. And I have been for the longest time."

Your breath catches in your throat, and a mixture of emotions swirls within you, a whirlwind starting for a whole new reason now. "Theo, I..." You hesitate, not sure what to say.

He smiles and shakes his head. "You don't have to say anything right now. I just needed you to know. And if you ever need someone to talk to, to be there for you, I'll always be here, I want you to know this."

This is a side of him, you think, only you know. And only you know since this very moment. He has never been like this before, he is not like that to others and it makes your chest warm from the inside. 

Tears well up in your eyes again, but this time they're not tears of sadness — they’re tears of happiness and comfort. Without thinking you throw your arms around Theo and hug him tightly, feeling the warmth of his embrace. "Thank you, Theo. I... I really care about you too. I want you to know this."

He holds you close, his hand gently rubbing your back. "What happened today, and what is maybe about to come…we'll get through this together. You are not alone in this. I know you have your Hufflepuff friends, but you also have me."

He holds you tightly, and for as long as it takes the pain of the former happenings to ease. The weight of the howler and your mother's hurtful words begins to fade, replaced by the knowledge that you have someone who cares deeply for you by your side. His words and his confession were like balm to your soul, and they make you smile, even when you thought you wouldn't be smiling much this day. 

"I am really glad to have you back in my life."

He smiles, a genuine and adorable smile that makes your heart flutter. "I have always been in your life. Maybe we weren't that close, but our bond has always been there."

You nod, and draw in a deep inhale. "You are right."

When more pupils file into the corridors, you know lessons are probably soon about to start. You give his hand a final squeeze and slowly get up. "I'll see you later, Theo."

He nods, his eyes never leaving yours. "Take care, Y/N. I'll see you for lunch?"

You nod, a smile on your lips and his eyes momentarily dip to them.

With one last smile, you turn and head toward the Hufflepuff common room, your heart lighter. You know you can talk to him about the issues in your family, and he will listen, because he understands. Understands the pure blood nobility and problems.  And maybe, just maybe, there is also a chance for something more between the two of you in the future. He, after all, already confessed his love for you. 

[ellsbclls]

⟢ ◞ blackberries; e. williams

desc. a small part of a larger fruit anthology — ellie has never had blackberries before, and you get to introduce them to her. rated pg-13

an. short and fluffy and fun! i've been sitting and fermenting on this for a year now and i felt like it deserved to see the sun. also i love unpacking ellie's trauma box by box. enjoy!

by the time your shift ends, daylight has already beat you home.

there was a time where this land was nothing but that — land. a dimple on the jagged smirk of the mountainside. your sights were set on somewhere north — sun bound and damp with the promise of not an unforgiving winter, but here is where came to you first — the promise of a nap and a fireside meal after miles and days walked. here is where you could finally rest, you thought.  and then you spoke it into existence, and there the seed was planted, and began to shape root…

thick, wonky slabs of wood block the sun, one sliding off the other like a big oaky thumbprint, and the crows bark just above it all, sweeping one another into an endless circle. a tornado of black beaked trumpets ushering the morning light into your home.

you tug your boots off and shlep them to the other side of the room. that’s a mess for a much more capable version of you to deal with. you opt to let your muscles take over, work by memory and tend to the swell that blossoms beneath the ball of your ankle. years ago, on your first patrol, you rolled it while trying to outrun a swarm.

the jackson medic assured you, in his weathered, sandpaper drawl, that you should be grateful that you only came out with a twisted ankle. and you were — you ended up in the logs only two weeks past the incident — but the pain still persists in rolling phases. like today, when the air is honeyed with spring.

usually ellie takes great pleasure in greeting you at the door, ever punctual. it’s a welcome relief for the both of you at the end of the day — as much of a reason to make your way back home as it is for her to believe you will.

she’s the one who removes your boots, and does it just right, unlaces them and everything, leaving too much room for the fabric to even near your phantom injury. treats you like a princess from the moment you step foot into your home, like your return is the answer to the murky planes of her forethought. with her knees planted into the runner and your socked foot cradled to the cotton bound splice of her chest. she kisses you, where the sun never dares to roam, where she can without being accused of tenderheartedness. her palms run up the hill of your calf — to clear room if not blueprint the trail of her lips as they flag out your dimpled knee. “there, all better,” she decides, and forbids you from walking unless it’s crutched by the support of her arm.

today, however, seemed to be an exception.

that's when you decide to find her, and dread doesn’t prickle within you as much as concern. you’ve done nothing wrong, and you’ve allowed yourself enough time to realize such, and yet the world still runs with veins of uncertainty. finding her right where you left her would never be a guarantee, but a  privilege.

“ellie?” prodding, you lurk through your halls, tracing the map of the walls with your middle finger. “i have a surprise for you.”

once you pass your bedroom, you think you finally find her. you crawl into the bed and mistake a massive heap of blankets for ellie, kissing and nosing at the cotton until you realize that it’s unresponsive. so you continue your journey, ego bruised.

two rooms and many corners later —

you’re greeted to her silhouette, back to the kitchen, framed by the seam of the sunroom and its sharply lit doorway. to disrupt her feels depraved. you rarely get to see her so at peace, with her hand watercolored and calloused with the fruits of your latest harvest, her head stuffed into a thatch of goldenseal.

but you must, after countless seconds of self-arduous debate, it’s better to taste the death of such a peaceful moment than stand and ponder whether there’s enough room for you in it..

you tap on her shoulder and wait for her, knowing well enough that you must allow her just enough time for her body to sink back into the comfort of her skin before you can touch her further.

it serves just as much of a reminder as it does a testament — to time, to growth, to evolution — it lies just beneath your hairline and blends into the curly horizon of it, and no further does it travel nor does it fade.

“thyme’s not coming in.”

“is that so?” you push loose strands of hair behind her ear, a nervous tic you’ve transplanted onto her.

“i think it’s being stubborn…”

“you don’t say. ”  you brows twitch upward. 

“Hey! don’t tease,” she finally turns to face you and her eyes are wet with mischief. deft fingers circle and roll at your wrists, mulling at the bone of your wrist like a joystick. “you’re the one out of a good ol’ fashion steak.”

“do you even know how to cook it?”

silence. 

“well how hard can it be?”

she can tell you’re impressed, what with your expectant stare, somewhat mirroring her own silly one. “i really thought it would work.”

It being some intricate propagation method, found dog eared in the tomb of a vintage almanac. dated from a time far from now, far from disease and blood and mycellium. at least of this caliber.

“you’ve never liked cooking beef, anyway. you keep giving them names.” she offers a pitiful smile, you can feel it slow against your skin as she hugs her arms around it. Her body crooked and tired against yours. earnestly, you answer the question she never wants to ask.

“it will.”

She barely moves from your neck when she hums. “you think so?”

and assurednly, you promise, “i do.” as you shuffle away, you say. “don’t worry about the thyme. i’ve got a surprise for you.”

— ⟡ —

“what are they?” ellie’s brows pinch. her head tilts like a small bird.

“blackberries.” 

they settle in dark bunches and peek between your fingers. If you focus just enough, you can see them glow, catching on the light that creases between your eyes —amazement, sparkling like little beads of snow.

you smile, meek and cautious. something kindred, begins to siege — it dimples at the corners and folds beneath the crush of your lashes until there’s no space left that hasn’t been swallowed by sheer joy.

she had never seen them; well, not in person, at least. tiny midnight bulbs, clustered together and staining the skin of their burlap sack. her knuckles brush against their pinprick stubble and fly back, a scorched touch.

you had to parse some out to jesse as well when you found them — a finders fee of sorts, though you gloss over the fact that the only discovery he had made on your patrol was your newfound surplus of fruit, bulging from the corner of your pack. fuck jesse.

maybe this is what joel meant.

how, before his passing, and even after she shunned him from her life altogether, he still saw her — bright, almost scarily so, as the day he met her. how she wasn’t meant for this world, that she stood for everything it lacked, and no matter how many times they tried to take it away from her, there was a spark of fire still roaring behind her eyes. a lovely yearning, a wonderful ache that flourished and swelled like a smile on the face of oblivion.

there were days where she wore it well, dancing in the kitchen, tending the garden, her sighs hugging sound her shoulder like a hug of relief. but other days were not as kind. sometimes the memories sit inside of her. take root and fester beneath the dirt of her father’s almost grave, refusing to grow. to leave him behind in the shallow earth is one way to go, and so she clings to him, buries him deep in her mind and hopes for another.

but then you’re there. despite her life and how hard it bends to the company of everyone she’s known, you’re there. in spite of it. and with the smallest sign of tenderness, a simple gesture, helped a dull bud blossom.

“wait! wait!” you pull the container close to your chest, throw your hand over it limply like you have a wounded wrist.  just beneath the sparkle of your gaze lies a shyness, peeking out from behind your tongue like a child curled around their mother’s leg. you stretch your free hand out, fill the ample space between you. “wait.”

a pause settles in between, and once you gain her attention, you continue. “i thought, maybe — well, of course we would eat the berries.” ellie visibly deflates, releasing a sigh of relief. “but i've heard …well, i’ve read that if you mull the berries, you could make paint! and… your drawings.”

“my? —” ellie is baffled. for years the two of you weaned off poultry and potatoes, in every form, every flavor, and yet you stumble upon the rarest of finds, a bramble of sweet summer fruit, untended yet ripe for the picking, and see only her. it makes her wonder… “fuck, my… you don’t-”

you cut her off before she can backpedal, convince herself more than you that she's never deserving of such nice things. little luxuries, like food and dye. 

“i quite like your drawings. they just need a bit of…” you pop half of the berry between your teeth. a tartness traces the sides of your mouth, coaxing a smile from you that’s every bit as bright as it is warm, and then the sugar follows, jaw soothed and kissed with the sultry tongue of summer. 

and then you offer her the other half. a promise between the pads of your fingers. “substance?”

“We’ll always come across more of these.”  she concedes, cranes her neck, fully contented with her resigned half truth. You probably wouldn't, not in this lifetime, within the perimeter of jackson. and she would wallow about it for sure.

you pull the fruit away before she can bite into it. “even if we don’t. make something special for me.”

[buckyandgeraltsupremacy]

remus x shy!reader (part 4)

author: sj

warnings: fluff; angst for remus lol; reader is in hufflepuff; uses she/her pronouns; not edited

done with finals!! now battling the want to only read fics and not write, let me know if you want a confession from rem!!

masterlist

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 5

---

it was the day of the date and remus had been up since 4 am. he couldn't stop thinking about your date. however bad he hoped it would go, he didn't want your first date experience to be horrible. he wanted you to be treated how you deserve and to have a lovely time while also never ever wanting to see the fool again. and that is why he had woken up at 4 in the morning and couldn't stop the fight in his mind.

it was 11:30am and he was laying on the couch in the common room, one foot on the ground tapping constantly. the boys had decided to stay in this morning because james was worried they'd run into you and that sirius would end up embarrassing you and ruin your date.

"moony, if you don't stop tapping your foot, i'm going to lose my mind." sirius grunted, head in his hands covering his ears from the tapping noise.

"she should be done with her date now, right? its been 2 hours. why isn't she back yet?" remus asked.

"relax you love sick dog. your precious wife will be returned soon." sirius replied dramatically, rolling his eyes at how abserd this whole situation was. "if you had only confessed your love for her when you had the chance, she wouldn't be snogging another fella while you fumed the whole time." he added. remus shot upright on the couch with a wide eyed expression and a look of dread covering his features.

"here she comes!" peter shouted, holding the marauder's map in his hands, walking into the common room where the other boys were. all of their heads turned towards the portrait hole where it swung open and you stepped through.

you were excited to tell the boys all about it, but you weren't quite expecting them to all be staring at you when you got back.

"well, hi." you said, cheeks flushing more than they already were, glancing towards the floor to not meet their eyes. you sat down on the couch next to remus like normal, not sensing the tension in his body, only feeling their eyes on you.

"WELL??? i need all the details. spill your guts flea!" sirius cried across from you.

"it was okay! it wasn't bad! but it also wasn't great. like it was pleasant but it wasn't anything to write home about. is that good? like are you supposed to know if you want to marry him already?" you rambled, entire face flushing and not meeting their eyes.

"aw, hoppers. i'm sorry it didn't go well." james consoled you.

"what do you mean?" you asked, confused why he sounded sad for you.

"well, it didn't sound like there was any chemistry, that's important if you're gonna date someone." james explained.

"flea, i know it's your first date ever, but even i thought you'd know that." sirius shrugged. at the mention of it being your first date, you tensed and shot a look a remus, hurt that he spilled a secret to the boys. remus met your gaze with a look of panic.

"that wasn't me! i swear it! i didn't tell them!" he yelled.

"oh he didn't tell us, but the way you were acting before was kind of obvious and the fact that remus would've known that you were dating someone before you were part of our group and you certainly haven't since we've been friends because of remus' behavior." sirius explained, you relaxed and reached to touch remus' leg.

"sorry for thinking that you told them when you didn't ." you apologized and remus nodded back.

"its fine bun, i'm not hurt." he said, covering your hand with his.

"so hoppers, did you snog him?" sirius asked crudely. your cheeks flushed bright red.

"that is none of your business sirius! and a lady never kisses and tells!" you exclaim, avoiding all their eyes. "i told him that it would be best if we were friends, and he agreed. i don't think dating is for me, i just got so anxious before! and the thought of having to go on another date, just makes me nauseous." you say, leaning onto remus' shoulder and resting your head.

"thats okay, bun. you don't have to date if you don't want to." remus patted your thigh, his heart soaring that he won't have to go through this again. he knew he'd have to tell you that he liked you soon, the thought of you with someone else almost killed him.

"thanks rem." you mumbled back, sinking deeper into his side.

sirius observes this going on, looking to james and mouthing, 'are they fucking idiots??'

james simply rolled his eyes in response.

[ladybirdswritings]

Pride & Prejudice - Coriolanus {Young} Snow x Reader

Summary: Spending more time with the miserable Mr. Snow, against your will, only proves to you exactly why he is a man you have sworn to loathe for all eternity. Steamy Pride & Prejudice retelling with young snow and you! Alternate universe, au!snow <3

Notes: so happy you all loved the first part — so i guess i’m continuing ahaha. as always, thank u for leaving comments and loves as it keeps me motivated! also, feel free to lmk if you’d like to be added to the tag list <3

two

The mist of September’s end and October’s greeting is a thick, heavy blanket in the air. You only scowl at it as you pick up your tiered skirt from where it drags against emerald moss and dirt. A storm is nearby.

You would melt into this very soil if you could. Become one with the lilacs and peonies if it meant you’d never be prevailed upon to marry again by the force of your mother.

Mama is unwell. As always but, with more fervor now. The dance was most successful for Jane. She and Sejanus have been exchanging kind letters with pomegranate stained kisses garnishing the print. Even so, mama is viciously unhappy.

The cherrywood cabinets slam louder when you pass, and her eyes narrow at any mention of the gathering. Perhaps your behavior was a great embarrassment for her. If only you were as divine as Jane.

The house is lively, far too lively for your liking at this settling hour. Sisters here and sisters there. They busy themselves with the grand piano and awful singing. It isn’t long until one of the twins rushes forward with a sealed envelope clasped tightly in hand.

“Mama! It is for Jane!”

You snatch the paper from her palm, worrisome that she will ruin it with how tightly she squeezes. Beyond this, you are most eager to see the development in your own personal romance novel starring your dearest sister. Mama slaps your hand away in turn, tugging it back into a monstrous grasp that nearly shreds it to minuscule little pieces.

You see the breath halt and dwell comfortably in her throat, unwilling to part or falter. This is most important to her, trivial matter as it is.

So long as Jane is happy…

You gaze on at the girl with petal-pink cheeks and bright eyes — her smile is a thing of beauty and joy at the mere idea that Sejanus Plinth could admire her.

“Mama! What does it say!”

Her hands tremble like hummingbirds now, and your frown stitches itself promptly upon your pretty face. Oh no, he is certain to have changed his mind.

At least he was kind and gentleman enough to inform dear Jane by letter.

That joy, excitement and eagerness once swimming within your mother’s eyes has dissipated to sheer horror.

“When did we receive this?” She whispers, a ghastly and terror laced sound.

“This morning!” One of the twins happily offers, twirling her chocolate ringlet tight enough to knot.

Mama cries out a sound of agony, shoving the paper hard against Jane’s chest — enough so that she stumbles. She is a frantic thing, running round your quaint living space like that of a farm animal who has lost its head.

You are fueled by your own confusion, constricting your mind to only wait upon Jane. She shakily reads the crumbled thing — hesitance becoming her. Her eyes shift then; a look of joy, excitement, fear — then dread.

“What is it?” You whisper, watching as mama mutters nonsense and brushes the collection of scattered breadcrumbs from the countertop — eyes wide as the moon aglow at midnight.

“Mr. Plinth and his sister, alongside Mr. Snow and sir Plinth’s dear — rich uncle, have all planned to meet with us this evening. They’ve taken a carriage, and have made arrangements to arrive by sundown.”

Four pairs of eyes, in perfected unison, glance into the grassy plains where the sun has begun to set.

You do not intend to giggle at the irony, perhaps it is a thing fueled by nerves just as your mother. Yet it floats from your sweet lips like a prayer, slender fingers rushing to suffocate it.

It is undeniably numerous, however. How could it be anything but?

The way your dearest blood all melts at the brim for the gaze of three men whom are only important by cold silver is a thing of great mystery to you, something you do not understand. It is not just mama and Jane and the entirety of your own family however. No, it is all of society. You only wonder what it would be like for a woman to reach beyond the horizon line — to be great. To not be forced upon a man of all creatures to be of true importance.

Mama rushes past, so quickly your hair becomes unruly. She presses her palms firmly against your cheeks — your face piecing together like a swift minnow from the nearby fish pond.

“Oh heavens — if you do even the littlest act so to embarrass me, I am certain to die of great illness. My nerves are far too weak, you must behave for me! Be as sweet Jane is. Sir Plinth’s uncle is of the richest gentleman in Newbury, 5,000 a year! You must converse with him, do it for your dearest mother. Oh! And brush that wild hair from your face, girl. He will think you to be a witch — keep guard at the window.”

Her words are a tangled, knotted mess of all the things you despise. Even whilst tucked away into a place where you do not truly listen, you know well she is asking you to be social for gain of a husband.

You frown, grateful when the headless chicken runs off from you again. Your hand fussses with the wisps rested amongst your forehead — and you obey mama’s orders by sauntering to the creaky old chair that faces the fogged front window.

The fog is a veil, a curtain hiding from you only dread. You are grateful for it now, though it does no good for your locks and tresses. Your eyes dart to the torn book beside you — and you consider disobedience as an alternative to this state. You know well what will happen if you stray, so you do not dare it.

It is an awfully timely and punctual arrival — perhaps ten ticks of the grand, tower clock before the stallion’s snouts peek through the fog. Just as the golden halo sets beyond them.

“Mama!”

You call, but she only waves you away with a busy hand as she continues fussing with the knit table mat. You will not bother it again. You shrink, hiding all but curious eyes behind the lace curtain.

Sejanus is grinning, nervously you think. Then the scowling sister, a small, old creature with a sunken gaze — and the miserable one. They approach, you sink further.

“God Sejanus, smile any more for the poor thing and your pockets will start betraying you.” Grace sneers, voice sewn tightly with disgust at the less fortunate situation your family finds themselves in, glancing around at the quaint, pathetic home. It is as if she believes one breath of hers will cause it to collapse to the soil — to her polished feet.

“Please Grace, she is the prettiest girl I have ever seen. Oh, uncle, her eldest sister is very agreeable as well. Don’t you agree, Snow?”

Oh, he’s asked the cold thing who’s far too proud and rich for a humble party. You’re curious.

“Perfectly tolerable, I suppose. But not pretty enough to tempt me.”

Oh…

Your mischievous, sneaky grin melts into that of a hard line — ample with annoyance. How arrogant of him to say. As if his blonde locks and blue eyes make him any different than the handsome officers that pass by now and then. As if he is some prize. You scowl, Grace’s laugh an unpleasant sound.

Four hard knocks and you are quickly up to your feet.

Mama rushes to you immediately, slapping your hand enough so that it stings greatly and fades the color crimson.

“You were meant to watch! Places, take your stance girls!”

It takes beyond the greatest force to drag your feet to stand beside Jane. Mama checks each forced position anxiously before she tugs the door open wide — with a horrible, eager grin.

“Welcome!”

They trail the moss and dirt onto your oak floors, not bothering to wipe it away on the torn cloth you call a carpet. No need, they believe. The house is pathetic already as it stands. No dirt shall make it any less worthy than it already is.

In unison, a curtsy of greeting becomes all of you. Prim and proper and perfect just as mother groomed you all to be. For preparation of husbands.

Good god, the blonde looks even more dreadful now. Cold eyes darting to the old, harmless hound that chews on a racket ball. He winces at the sight of dust and chipped oak wood furniture surrounding. He looks down upon this place as if it is beneath him.

He far from belongs here.

“Sit, please sit! I’ve already prepared us supper!” Mama practically pushes Sejanus with most nervous palms, and his shadows follow suite.

Though you dream of running through the open door and fading into the mist to never be found again — you obey; sauntering into the archway with tired eyes and reluctant feet.

“My lady…”

Oh.

The short man with bushy brows and coal colored, untamed locks pulls your seat back enough so that you may sit upon it. To your dismay, the miserable one takes place in front of you. His eyes are cast downward to the far from fine silverware laid before him.

“Thank you sir.” You whisper, the chair feeling as though it is determined to suffocate you the longer you sit upon it.

“Oh, Jane — everybody, please meet my uncle, Mr. Casca Highbottom of Bristol.”

You only nod at the grinning old man, and mama rushes back like a midnight breeze through the archway — setting plates filled to the brim with but all of the food left for the entire month. Even so, it remains poor to a gazing eye. Though it matters not how little garnishes the porcelain, for when you catch gaze of miserable Snow pushing his few peas around in disgust, you cannot help but narrow your sight.

How can he be so proud? Certainly, if a humble gathering invited you in for a warm meal in this awful mist — you’d be most grateful for even a singular pea on your plate. Let alone twelve.

Grace laughs at the sight of Snow displeased — placing a soft palm against his knee beneath the cherrywood table. He spares her laugh a glance, and his lip twitches in what appears to be an amused smile. They talk lowly to each other, you notice it from where you peer behind your glass. She must be fond of him what with the way she touches him and leans closer with each word he speaks. You cannot possibly imagine why. Perhaps they are just alike. Rich, rude things.

“So — I dare ask if any suitors captured your heart at the party then?” Grace, she speaks to you now. You snort, ready to offer words of disdain and disgust toward the lot of men and their sweaty palms. Your mother’s cold glare silences you.

“No… they did not.” You mutter in quick defeat.

“Hmm, how dreadful…” it is mock sympathy, noticeable to both you and Jane.

Tension thins to a mere string lacing the table together. Silence blanketing even more so than the mist as worn silverware and mama’s embarsssing tangents erupt in painful harmony. You are grateful for Jane who manages to pry her eyes from Sejanus for a single moment so to save you from mama’s disapproving glare at your silence. She is selling you to the short man, it seems. She has been for the entirety of this meal.

“It is not as though gentlemen do not flock to my dear sister…” Jane starts. “It is simply that she is far too preoccupied with her books to notice them. She is an avid reader, adores her novels you see. She possesses great talents because of it!”

You hoped Jane would be so kind as to avert the attention. Yet it remains stable upon you, the available wife — as cattle with clipped ears. You feel as though you are livestock being powdered and pressed for the market. If the short man is buying, you’d rather be butchered.

He is awkward and stout and his jokes are uncomfortable as they are just rude. He is far from a gentleman and all the reason you deny each hand bestowed to you in the first place. For reason of men like him.

“You write?” Snow inquires.

Those cold, devoid eyes are locked upon you — and despite wishing to send him away to never return so you may be free of his arrogance, you only peer up at his gaze through fanned lashes to see them commanding an answer of you. Awaiting one.

“Occasionally, sir.”

His gaze doesn’t falter, nor does the gaze of Mr. Highbottom, even as he presses a boiled potato to his tongue.

“What of?”

What a silly question, you think. What else would a woman of your age and lack quill about?

It baffles you to find him curious. Perhaps he does not wish to seem obviously rude any more so than he simply is — perhaps he is only creating small talk.

“What else, sir? My thoughts and desires, my ideas. Romance — dramatics…”

“Oh but she just despises poetry!” Mama interjects, as if to end the conversation and refocus it upon your eligibility. Even when she speaks, Snow does not spare her a single glance. His eyes, they still rest upon you.

“You do? I thought poetry to be the food of love.”

You dare a snort then, suffocating a fit of laughter with a spoonful of food. You take your time chewing it, only offering more words when you realize that the conversation does not seem to be at its end. No. It cannot be. Not when he looks at you in a such an expectant manner.

“A poet writes of women in the gaze of all men, which I do not believe to be a true show of adoration. Perhaps it is the food of love — if you want to suffocate it. Stone it till it remains no longer.”

His next words come quick, immediately almost. As if he is grasping at the first chance to reply, much to Highbottom’s dismay whom snaps his mouth shut after losing the opportunity. Every eye in attendance is on the both of you.

Do they think you to be an enigma? You wonder…

“What do you recommend then? To encourage affection between two people…”

You do not know why he asks you this, but you can only assume it is because he wishes to embarrass you. Grace’s sharp gaze morphs into that of an amused smirk. Why would he ask the only woman seated what encourages affection when she cannot obtain it on her own?

You are certain then of his intentions. To mock you in front of Plinth’s sister, his uncle. In front of your blood. He does it so subtlety that if you were not bright as you are — you would most certainly miss it. He is a fool, a great fool because miraculously — you can reciprocate.

“Dancing… even if one’s partner is only tolerable.” You almost sneer with a tilt of your head and raise of your sharp brow.

If something truly clicks within him, it is most quickly dissipated. Most tricky to see. Sejanus clears his throat, and Highbottom — rude creature, erupts into a fit of laughter with a mouthful of food. Your mother is nervous, she joins him.

Grace only gasps, and Jane’s soft features are laced with confusion at the thing only you five are lucky enough to understand.

You remain stoic, challenging his eyes and his tense, twitching jaw with proudness.

“Shall I fetch dessert mama?”

Your mother nods through fits of forced laughter, and you take the opportunity to lift upon your feet. The chair scrapes against the creaky panels and nearly topples as you rush into the quaint kitchen and away from him.

It brings you joy knowing that he has nothing further to say.

You are smiling, terribly overflowed with pride as you place canned, sugared peaches upon ten porcelain plates. How proud he must have felt to speak lowly of you, a girl he spared little words to at a party he refrained from dancing at for it was too poor for his liking.

You disliked him then — but a chat with miss Lucy-Gray Baird while passing by in town confirmed all of your prejudice. She claims to have been treated most coldly by him whilst he was courting her. He offered his hand, then fled into midnight when he grew bored of her. Only the next morning.

He is as any other man is. A heartless hound. His behavior in your small home only further proves your prejudice is with more than enough reason.

You take longer than you should selfishly, and when you return — your gaze locks upon Sejanus who is entirely enamored by the sapphire gaze of Jane.

Mama aids you in placing down the plates you juggle. It is a poor dessert, but one that is most delectable.

“Oh well, your daughter is most precious. Funny, too! How uncommon for women.”

“Oh please uncle, we all have our wit. She is just peculiar, I daresay.”

Mama laughs at Grace’s words, and you only offer a polite, tense smile before being seated once again. It is you now that pushes your food around your plate, fading into the mist truly as you remain silent.

They speak of things you care the least bit for — all irrelevant matters to your mind. You are grateful when wine is poured, you nearly inhale it and garner a slap on your hand once again from mama.

You need it to get thought this.

Highbottom and mama speak of you, she tells him lies. How much you wish to be wed, how eager you are to find a lover. All contradictions of Jane’s earlier lick of truth. The rich fool believes her, his eyes cast upon you like poisonous darts. Slowly suffocating you.

Sejanus is preoccupied entirely by Jane — and the miserable one chats lowly with the scowling sister.

“Well, how about some music and dance? Lizzie, off to the piano!”

Your youngest sister lifts — eager to press her hands against the keys. It will be a mediocre melody but one that offers enough sound so to dance. You wish to stay glued to the table as they leave you to the living space — but mama tugs at your braid harshly, you have no choice other than obedience.

Sejanus kindly offers Jane a hand — and you feel as though you will just sink entirely into the floor as Highbottom approaches. Your heel turns you swift as you try and find even a small bit of space in this little home.

A navy vest with a crimson rose tucked into its pocket cages your escape. You never thought to see the day you’d be grateful for the cold blonde who cuts in front. You nearly collide with him.

“Dance with me.” He commands.

How baffling…

You do not notice the tension settled within your features until your brows ease in confusion. Your chin is pointed upwards — enough so that he can be equal to your gaze.

“Are you asking this of me — or ordering sir?”

His jaw ticks once more, but he does not follow up with any more words. The cleared throat of the short man behind you is enough reason to pick the far less uncomfortable poison. You’d rather be fueled by annoyance as opposed to discomfort and dread. One dance is all.

“Fine.” You mutter, sealing your fate and betraying your swear to be far away from the man whom you loathe entirely.

He is a pale thing up close. Birth marks kissing silken skin, soft as the moss kissing your shoes. You are grateful that this dance does not require touch — only the occasional closeness.

You follow him to where Sejanus and Jane stand — his head nearly reaches your ceiling. His palm hovers over yours, eyes downcast on your pretty features. Grace is scowling, again.

Your fingers twitch as Lizzie begins the sonnet, and you follow his lead.

It surprises you greatly, how well he dances. Though his mouth is a hard line, and his eyes are like round lumps of charred coal. He is noiseless.

“Are we to dance in dread and silence, Mr. Snow? I dare comment on this awful weather, now you may follow with a remark about the food. How much you despised it.”

You catch a glimpse of him, a suppressed twitch of his lips. As if the words offended him. Maybe amused him. You step forward and then back, frayed skirt floating against the movement. He follows suite.

“I could comment on how you dance. I am happy to inform you it is more tasteful than how you cook. Please do advise me on what more you want me to say to you.”

You stumble by his words — and his eyes dart to your clumsy feet. They are stable soon enough, circling him like a shark in vicious waters. His words upset you.

“Mama and Jane prepared the meal. I only prepared the peaches; but I do believe that if a family was kind enough to welcome an abrupt attendance with a warm meal — I would not be so complacent about its contents. You see — we are not all so fortunate to have garnered inheritance, Mr. Snow.” A cold melody, but one he would be a fool to ignore. It is all true.

Now it is him that halts. He steps forward, dipping his head low. Your eyes wander to his gloved palm — it clenches then flexes outward; all evidence of his annoyance with your words.

There you both stand, Sejanus and Jane alongside the twins, mama and Highbottom swirling around you. You do not know where Grace lurks.

You both are still, he stands a tower above you. His eyes pour heat into your own, admonishing you — offended with your words. It is as if the room is only filled with the two of you, the lace of connection between you just your anger. Even in your short time being familiar, it is strong.

“Do you imply that my inheritance is all the reason for my success?” He forces through clenched — perfect teeth.

“Perhaps I do sir, miss Baird of Newbury certainly agree—”

The hand that lays against your side is snatched into his own. He squeezes it tight now, eyes wide and swimming with disapproval and frustration. It has been resting at the surface, but bound to crack.

“Oh I’m certain she does. I am sure she told you the many tales of her troubles and woes brought upon by her time spent with me. You won’t speak to her again.”

It is you that steps forward now, so laced with upset that you do not notice your poor and worn shoes are stepping upon his tip toes. Up upon the rich and shined leather. Your chin is pointed upward, your stance tense.

“You command me as if I am wed to you sir, but I am not. You have come here, unannounced and unhappy with your humble plate as if we are all but a quaint inn with poor maids. Just because we gather little and obscure and we do not have pockets as generous and full as yours does not make us beneath you, Mr. Snow.”

The music halts, and your eyes shift quickly to find a concerned Jane gazing on — alongside your horrified mother. How crazed you both must look now. Stepping upon his toes with palms clasped — anger and upset becoming you both.

You release his gloved hand and part your soft lips to dismiss yourself — yet a strike of lightning cracking from above the grayed sky is a gift given, a distraction from beyond. Yet alongside it? A curse.

The horses startle, lifting to their hind legs before running far and fast with the carriage. Grace cries out from where she sulked in the shadows, and Sejanus alongside his uncle run after the wild beasts. Your sisters and mama follow.

“What are we to do!?”

“Grace, please be calm. We will fetch them.”

“We cannot travel in these conditions, boy.”

“You may rest here!”

Dread is a serpent that wraps tight round your throat — making the pounding of your heart halt entirely.

It is all a blur, but by the end of the lively conversation it is decided. They will stay. They will all stay. You bow your head, crossing your arms round the beating at your chest so to protect it.

“Excuse me.” You whisper, so low it is taken with the breeze from the open door before rushing up your dilapidated steps; knowing full well that the hospitality offered by mama, selfish reasoning or not, is the last thing a man like Mr. Snow deserves…

[ginnyw-potter]

Commenting etiquette

Yes, we do need to talk about it. And I'm not talking about the hateful comments, there are mean people everywhere. I'm talking about people who enjoy the fic but don't seem to get that across entirely.

I frequently hear other writers get so discouraged by unmindful comments and it's something I've experienced too.

And I absolutely do not want to get people scared to comment, because the majority of comments are good and wonderful, I just hope a few do's and don'ts help everyone along.

You do not know the writer and the writer doesn't know you Most of the time, you do not have any rapport going with the writer or very little, unless you are besties who are in each other's PMs. What that means

It is really difficult to guess people's tone and intentions from a few words in a comment box, especially if they're dubious. So don't make them dubious! It's so easy to say I like...., I enjoyed... Put it in there, please (more tips below)

You don't know what people are going through There can be about 700 reasons a writer doesn't update... maybe they don't feel like it, maybe life got in the way, sometimes people go an have babies, or their house burns down! The dreaded AO3 curse! So, be kind, always. You are getting free words. Writers do not owe you an update when you want, no matter what humongous cliff hanger they left you on

It's so easy to be misunderstood online.

"But I want an update!"

Yeah, I get it. you're excited! But asking for an update is hardly ever going to land well. What you can say instead of 'When do you update?' (or other, ruder, options and double question marks often come across as rude. leave them at home) is 'I am eagerly awaiting an update!' You're still letting them know you're filled with excitement for an update, but you're not demanding it. Important note: If you say this, please let it not be the only thing you write. Say a little more as to why. If you want an update, you surely know why.

... So how do you write a good comment?

(Obviously there are a lot of ways to write great comments, but here are a few pointers for people who get anxious leaving a comment.)

Say you are enjoying the fic or the chapter. it's so easy. This is the bare minimum if you comment, in my humble opinion I love this fic This chapter was amazing This fic lives in my head rent-free!

Point out things you liked or tell what the fic did with your emotions I really loved it when x went to x and confessed their love I was at the edge of my seat the whole time! Crying over this fic, it's so perfectly angsty

You can express sentiment about the further story, but do it well I can't wait to find out about x I will be wondering about x until next update I am so entranced, I am so excited to find out more about x When you update I'm going to be first in line to read!

Any other sentiments, a thank you note or the likes are nice, or leave more kudos by pasting in the more kudos images (it's so easy, and posts tend to have instructions) link here

Example of a good comment:

I love this fic so much I have literally not stopped reading until I was caught up When she was almost run over by the bus, my heart stopped and I was so relieved when she made it! I loved the bit where he helps her clean up the tea spill, so sweet and tender. I wonder how she's going to explain that tea stain to her evil stepmother.... Thank you so much for this update!

You can also install the floating AO3 box, and I love to use it to already comment on particular things I liked as I go so I don't forget, and it easily let's you copy-paste bits into the comment box so you can point out exactly what you liked about it.

A lot of people have started treating fics as something to consume and don't see the writer behind it, and it's so sad to see people recommend people to only read finished fics, that don't comment or only to ask when they are getting more words. (I know if you've read this far you're likely not one of those.)

And then they're surprised their favourite author stopped posting, when that author may think their fic isn't liked by you (because you never took the time to say) or they lose the enjoyment of posting because people just always simply demand more, more and more.

In summary, be kind to your writer. they're a whole person who is putting wonderful stories out for you for free. they likely have a day job or school to get to and a 100 worries you know nothing about. I'm not the comment police, I can't tell you what to comment but I just hope you take into consideration how your comment is going to be received by the writer on the other side.

[fountainpenguin]

Scott, Gem, and Martyn Secret Life Ep 1 commentary:

"Geez Scott, why are you so creepy?" / "Everyone needs a hobby <3"

Crying at Scott booking it across the grass to break up Scar and Jimmy as fast as humanly possible and they just start huffing and grumbling.

Scott after running into Pearl, Cleo, Jimmy, and Martyn - "I've bumped into every single one of my exes already..."

slkdjf Skizz apparently cut himself saying "I just wanna cause problems" out of his own POV but Scott got it all on tape

Skizz staying within 10 blocks of Gem is even funnier from Scott's POV because he needs Gem to hold his hand while he follows Scott around a corner... The delicate balancing act of obeying Scott's come hither but also pulling Gem along.

The dead silent push in on Scott's face when he notices Gem inching her base away from his and he's dreading starting his "obnoxiously attach your base to someone else's" task over.

Impulse: "Scott, is my cottagecore-ing okay? :)" / Scott, sweating his pretty little head off as he speed-builds so Gem doesn't catch him in the act, not even turning around: "Yep- looks great!"

Gem, emotionally trudging across the map with Skizz and Scott hanging off her.

I appreciate Gem's commentary of "How much room does this man NEED??"

Gem watching Scott un-merge their bases: "Oh, thank you" / Scott: "What do you mean by that. Why is that a relief to you."

---

Impulse and Gem going over the cliff is funnier with the context that Gem's task was to convince someone to "take a leap of faith while also ensuring they take no damage."

Mental image of Gem begging Impulse to take a flying jump into the water while Impulse is grabbing her by the shoulders and trying to force her into a cherry wood boat because it's cherry wood it's amazing Gem come on slkdjf

Gem: "How much more iron do you need for a chestplate?" / Impulse, taking a moment to pretend to count: "... 8 :)"

Gem, addressing the viewers: "And Skizz follows me around for an uncomfortable period of time."

In Scott's POV, he's just watching unhappily from the distance as Gem starts taking down her wall, but in Gem's POV she actually asked him if she can move her base over and he's just like "Yeah... Yeah, you can if you want to :')" slkdfj

Underappreciated irony in Scott being the one to make a big deal about how clingy Skizz is when he's literally fusing his base's roof with Gem's

It's spawn egg-topia!!

Scott: "I'm making the executive decision to separate our cottages." slkdjf Scott recovers from being possessed by the spirit of clinginess and wakes up like "What HAPPENED last night?? What is this garbage??"

---

Holy cow Martyn dropping from 30 hearts to 12 within like 20 minutes.

lksdjf Martyn: "Let's see if there's any response in the chat to my Cover Me With Diamonds achievement :)" / Gem, Scott, and Impulse immediately triple enchant / Martyn: "Oh :'D"

??? Custom zombie spawner? Neat

He started at 30 and went down to 5.5 hearts?? Geez, dude.

It's funny because in Double Life, I didn't notice Martyn taking that much damage compared to anyone else, but I feel like now I understand why Cleo was so irritated with him lskdjf

Martyn at the start of this episode: "Ew I don't want cherry wood" / Martyn trying to complete his secret task: "Where is all the cherry wood??"

Martyn speedbuilding in panic and quiet, then Joel cracks a joke and Martyn laughs and you hear Bdubs offscreen going "You got Martyn with that one" <3

sdfklsjdf I like how Martyn's idea of copying Lizzie's house involved rushing over to hers and destroying her bed to match the fact that his copied house did not have a bed

Wheezing at Impulse being just 2 steps from pushing the success button but Martyn starts trash-talking cherry wood and Impulse immediately goes "Take that back, take that back right now!" with this guttural snarl and starts stomping towards him because he wasn't cured from his cherry wood obsession yet... Beautiful.

[essycogany]

The Roll Reversal Between Sonic And Amy

In Sonic Prime did Sonic and Amy’s rolls get swapped? Because MAN THE IMPLICATIONS IN THIS SHOW IS BOTH SUBTLE AND NOT SUBTLE AT THE SAME TIME.

The reason I say the two hedgehogs rolls are swapped is because one line in the entire show is the only indication of Amy’s crush on Sonic.

Sonic: “You like me….To some extent.” It’s never hinted at in the original Green Hill. Though a funny and random detail I liked is Amy apparently tricked Sonic into getting into the water (Probably to teach him how to swim) and I thought that would’ve been adorable to see.

Now onto Sonic’s part. Sonic possibly having a crush on Amy shouldn’t be a surprise. First of all the implications in actual canon Game/Modern Sonic is increasing more and more in my opinion. Secondly, this show’s version of Sonic is probably the most emotionally driven and affectionate. He’s not as secretive about how he feels either.

Sonic in episode 8 s2: “We’re all in this together. And I’d really think you’d grow to love them as much as I do.”

Onto the small details. We have short, but not hard to miss moments of Sonic just….staring at the different Roses. Sure, it can be viewed as platonic, but it’s the constant softening his gaze in a bunch of different scenes that didn’t have to be added, but was. It’s all up to interpretation.

Anyways, Sonic and original Amy’s first interaction is with the blue blur coming up to her excitedly and standing in a flirtatious manner. His tone of voice when he says “Got a little sidetracked,” could be interpreted as anything, but how he’s animated makes me pretty sure it’s intentionally flirtatious. That’s just me though.

Then we have the flirting teasing at Rusty Rose in the pirate dimension.

Rusty: “Not that anyone will remember you.”

Sonic: “Now you’re just being hurtful.”

Sonic not minding Black Rose hugging him and might even appreciates it.

And almost all the scenes between him and Thorn Rose was ship fuel for me. With Sonic calling her “Thorny,” as a nickname. He kept the location of the green shard a secret so Thorn could trust him. Sonic stopped himself from fighting Thorn as much as possible. (The Amy Flashback was adorable) Not to mention the last few scenes with Thorn holding onto Sonic was sweet as well.

Sonic even helped improved the sisters lives.

With Rusty finding her humanity and ability to live without her Flikie.

Thorn regained her broken friendship and trust with the Bose Cage Gang.

And Black Rose became the new leader of her Crew. (I say that knowing it was mostly Dreads redemption that helped, but still)

Sonic’s also the reason for all the Roses to gain a sisterhood. Which was one of the most precious part of the entire show. Season 3 has scenes of them running up to Sonic to make sure he’s alright, and helping Sonic twice by saving the last three pirates from No Place and getting him back home.

And here’s my favorite detail. I love how Sonic adores Amy’s way of thinking in Prime. When helping Thorn come to her senses, Sonic mentions how the original Amy would handle the situation. Expressing herself and discussing how she feels. The reason I bring it up is because Sonic finds value for Amy being able to do it without issue. Understanding he’s not the best at expressing himself.

Thorn: “I don’t know. She sounds pretty great.”

Sonic: “Yeah. You are.”

In fact. Sonic thinks so fondly of Amy that the show couldn’t end without having him come to her bashfully and calling her, “Sweet Amy.”

Also the posing with Sonic’s hand behind his back and feet up doesn’t help.

Last thing I’d like to point out is Sonic’s implied crush on Amy is very subtle and despite all of this can be interpreted as platonic which I’m fine with. But the thought of a roll reversal between two characters that’s never experienced it prior to now is awesome to speculate.

Stay Creative! 💜

[jamiewintons]

I haven’t been able to get this ask out of my head, and I’m kind of obsessed with the whole idea, so I decided to write a little bit for it! I’m terrible with writing multi-chapter fics, so I’ll probably just keep writing snippets and one shots from this universe. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

~

You were just about to escape down into the manhole when you heard someone behind you say your name. Fear spread throughout your whole body, freezing you in place. Damn it! You’d been caught, and that meant that the entire plan was probably ruined. Why had you not run faster?

A hand grabbed onto your shoulder, and you felt yourself being spun around. Your eyes widened when you saw who had caught you - it wasn’t a police officer as you had expected, but rather Mr. Fickelgruber. You felt relieved for a moment, but your heart rate quickly spiked again. Oh, this was even worse than being caught by the police! Not only was Fickelgruber a member of the Chocolate Cartel - and therefore an enemy - but you’d noticed the way he looked at you… not like he wanted to destroy you, but almost like he wanted something else. Something sinister.

“There you are, my dear,” Fickelgruber said with a sly smile. He withdrew his hand from your shoulder, studying your facial expression. “No need to look so anxious, darling. I am not going to harm you.”

“M-Mr. Fickelgruber… what are you doing here?” you asked, your voice annoyingly shaky. You wanted to sound tougher than that, but you couldn’t pretend you weren’t terrified, regardless of his assurances that he wouldn’t hurt you.

“I came to talk to you,” he told you, stepping a little closer to you. You were forced to step back, leaving you pressed up against the hard, brick wal of the alleyway. “About that debt of yours. You owe quite a large sum to Mrs. Scrubbit, don’t you? Such a large sum that I’m sure you’ll never be able to find the money to pay her what she is due.”

Of course you knew that. You didn’t need to be reminded. You’d been in the service of Mrs. Scrubbit since you were a young girl - even younger than Noodle was now. When you were born, your family was quite well off. You were loved, cared for, you always had food to eat and a nice bed to sleep in. But then one day, you were told that your parents had died. No one ever told you exactly what had happened to them, just that they were gone and they were never coming back. You were supposed to go into the care of some relatives, who would also take care of your inheritance until you came of age… but rather than care for you, they stole your inheritance and dumped you with Mrs. Scrubbit, who you were told was your ‘new guardian’. You were forced to sign a contract… and then put to work in the laundry. You’d long given up hope of ever escaping.

You were silent for a long moment, before the quiet was broken by Mr. Fickelgruber’s voice once again. “Oh, have I struck a nerve, my dear? I do apologise. I didn’t mean to upset you, I simply wanted to ensure that we were on the same page.” You weren’t sure whether you believed him when he said that he didn’t intend to hurt your feelings.

“What about my debt?” you asked, averting your eyes from his face. The way he stared at you was making you nervous. “I already know I’m going to spend the rest of my life in that laundry. I gave up believing I’d find a way out years ago.”

Fickelgruber tutted. “Oh, but what if I told you there was a way for you to get out? And not just you, but all of your friends as well.” Your gaze met his again, and your eyes went wide. “I see that I’ve caught your attention now,” he said with a smirk, sounding utterly pleased with himself.

“Really? All of us could get out?” For the first time in a long time, you felt hope for the future. It was a strange sensation that you almost didn’t recognise, and for a moment, it was as if all of your troubles had melted away. But a great deal of your hope was replaced with dread when you heard Fickelgruber speak again.

“On one condition.” Ah, you should have known. There was no way he was going to offer you a way out without expecting anything in return. He was a businessman after all, and that meant he would want to make a deal.

“I don’t have anything you would want.” You felt your heart drop. Salvation had been so close, only to be ripped away from you mere moments later.

“On the contrary, my dear. You have something that I would like very much.” Fickelgruber’s hand came up to gently brush against your cheek, and your breath hitched in your throat. Where was he going with this? "You see, I have found myself feeling rather… lonely, as of late. But I’m sure you understand that a man in my position cannot look just anywhere for companionship.

You didn’t know what to say. You’d had absolutely no idea what Fickelgruber was going to say, and never would you have guessed he was going to seriously suggest you marry him in exchange for your freedom and that of your friends. Momentarily speechless, you stared at Fickelgruber blankly, like you were waiting for him to laugh or tell you he was joking. But he simply stared back, and after about a minute, it finally sunk in that he was serious.

"W-what?" you stammered, completely lost for words.

"You heard me, darling," Fickelgruber said with a smirk, not seeming at all deterred by your baffled reaction. "I want you to be my wife. All of your debts will be payed, and you will live in luxury for the rest of your days. Doesn’t that sound nice?" His hand cupped your cheek, keeping you from looking away from him. Your face grew warm, and you felt a little bit light headed.

"Why would you want to marry me? I’m no one special, I just work in a laundry…"

"Oh, but we both know that isn’t who you always were, don’t we?” Your eyes widened in shock. How could he possibly know…? "I know where you came from, dear. The poor little orphan girl, losing her parents, and then having her inheritance ripped from her by her cruel family. You aren’t like your friends. You’re special. You deserve better than to be slaving away in some filthy laundry. You deserve to wear fine clothes, eat good food…" Fickelgruber’s voice trailed off, but he continued to stare right into your eyes. "You deserve to be cared for, and I can give you that."

What were you to do? You hated working for Mrs. Scrubbit. You were always tired and sore, and dirty… the promise of nice food and new clothes, not to mention a warm bath and a comfortable bed to sleep in… well, it was tempting. When you were a little girl, before you’d given up hope of escaping, you always dreamed of a handsome prince swooping in to save you - just like in the stories your parents read to you before they passed. Mr. Fickelgruber wasn’t exactly a prince - though you had to admit he was handsome - but he was offering you a way out. And not just for you, but for your friends as well…

“So if I say yes, all of the others will be free. You promise?” you asked cautiously, your eyes trained on his face - not that he was giving you much choice to do otherwise - trying to determine whether he was telling you the truth or not.

“Of course, my dear. Simply say the word, and I will send the money straight to Mrs. Scrubbit.” Though you couldn’t be completely sure, it seemed to you that Fickelgruber was telling the truth. Did he really care for you that much that he would pay such exorbitant fees, just to take you as his wife? The thought of someone desiring you so much… it made your stomach flutter. He truly was offering you a good deal…

"Yes, Mr. Fickelgruber. I… I will marry you."

[torukmaktoskxawng]

run away with me - part two

Part One Here

Pairing: Nor/Fem!Sarentu!Reader

Summary: Nor hesitantly returns. And while Ri'nela is quick to forgive and welcome him back into the Sarentu... he knew that you would not be as forgiving. But you wouldn't be the woman he loved if you did.

Word Count: +3k

Warnings: Spoilers for AFoP, only one or two uses of Y/n, proofread by me, ANGST!!!

Taglist: @mooniequeen @avatar-lover @taronyuhunter

A/n: This needed a Part 2 (especially now that I finally got to that you-know-what scene on AFoP. I had a feeling it would happen but still!)

Ri'nela is tsahik now.

Nor is honestly so proud of her, and of everyone he left behind. When he returned and realized that everyone in the Resistance was still around -apart from those who were lost to the attack on HQ- even after so long, he was internally relieved. While he initially hated the very sight of his human allies, he had spent so much time traveling alone, surviving in the wild, and reflecting on himself and his inner demons... to the point where he knew that the Resistance was not part of his pain and Priya and the others were innocent. He had come to the same conclusion as So'lek did. They were his allies, and they wanted Eywa to be free from the pain the Sky People inflicted on her just as much as he did.

As Ri'nela shows him around, keeping her arm linked with his as if afraid he would disappear, Nor quickly notices a few things are different among the new Sarentu clan and their tawtute allies. There were several more Na'vi than he remembered. All of them come from different backgrounds, wearing various clothes and different styles from one another, and none of them bore the mark of the Sarentu. Some had very young children among them, and to his surprise, they bore the mark of the Sarentu. They all greeted Ri'nela respectfully as she passed by them, addressing her as their tsahik. The only one who appeared to treat Ri'nela the same as before and call her by her name was Teylan, but Nor suspected that she likely asked him to. Teylan gave the other Sarentu male a wide berth, and Nor couldn't blame him. 

While Ri'nela leads Nor away from the clan to journey to the Hollows, he notices one other thing about the Na'vi living among the reformed Sarentu.

You were not among them.

He didn't dare ask, no matter how much it pained him to do so. He felt as though he had no right to know about you, to know what you've been up to or if you were even still alive. He knows Ri'nela will be expecting him to ask, but he's still as stubborn as when they were kids, so he bit his tongue.

And maybe that's why Ri'nela brings him to the Circle of Ancestors, something he dreaded but knew it needed to be done. He had felt like a stranger in Eywa's presence, not having connected to her since he and his friends first found a Tarsyu flower. Nor felt as though he didn't deserve to connect to the Great Mother, not after growing up in the shadow of the Sky People, learning their ways and forgetting everything he had been taught as a child. After he left the Resistance, he felt more ashamed of who he became and was convinced Eywa would hate him now more than ever after what he did. 

Ri'nela was patient with Nor, encouraging him to connect to Eywa, at least just this once. She promised she would never make him do it again if that was what he wanted, and so, Nor knelt in the grass and slowly took his kuru in hand, finally making the connection. 

He finally got to see the truth for himself, revealing what Alma did... or, technically what she didn't do. While his anger and resentment still festered, there was also unimaginable guilt. After he saw Alma's memories, he also saw yours. 

He saw your fear and pain while walking through the remnants of the Circle of Songs, the place the Sarentu were butchered during their annual moot, now laid barren within the yavä'. He had been on the radio with you as you traveled through it, remembering how he listened to your distress at your discovery in the midst of searching for proof of Anufi's innocence. He remembered feeling helpless, wishing more than anything that he could have gone with you. He should have gone with you...

He saw your grief and pain... your anger and fear. He saw everything you went through, and most of it was without him, when you needed him the most. He saw you every time you connected to the Circle of Ancestors, downloading your memories in case something happened to you. He saw how you wept in front of Eywa while clutching a familiar carved stone in your hand, the one he had gifted you after promising to always stay by your side.

Your memories did little to comfort him, and as he finally disconnected from the Circle of Ancestors, his curiosity got the better of him, glancing over at Ri'nela as she carefully watched him with folded arms.

"Where... where is she?" He finally asked.

"She's persistent in spreading stories and democracy across other clans, like a true Sarentu," Ri'nela doesn't hesitate to answer, having been waiting for him to ask, "While I remain here to lead our clan, she ventures out there, as our envoy, to find new friends and spread our wisdom. She always comes back with stories of her adventures and sometimes brings home other Na'vi who wish to join the Sarentu. She always has something new to tell me from her travels."

"So..." his ears begin to rise with hope, "She eventually comes back?"

"Always. It could be days or months, but she always comes home. Although... she never stays long."

Ri'nela sucks in a deep breath, her gaze heavy, "I can see it in her eyes. She is saddened by us. She looks at me and Teylan and thinks of you. That is why she travels so much... to be rid of your memory. To forget that you abandoned her."

Despite how her tone was soft and gentle, her words cut deep into Nor's skin, making him flinch in pain as his ears and tail lowered in distress and guilt. Ri'nela lowers herself to her knees, meeting Nor's eyes with a stern, cold expression, "When she returns-- and she will, you will not abandon her again."

Nor swallows sharply and nods once, his voice so quiet and strange to him, "What do I even say to her?"

The Sarentu tsahik lifts her chin, "I would do nothing less than beg for her forgiveness on your hands and knees."

~~~~~~~~~

Nor had been living among the Sarentu and the Resistance for two months before you finally made your appearance.

You flew in by ikran, fast and agile, your Bonded barely giving herself time to fan out her wings to stop her descent before her talons landed gracefully on the ground. Luckily, no one was close enough to be ambushed by the harsh entrance, but once people began to realize who had made a quick landing in the center of their community, they all began to flock toward you and your ikran, eager to see you and hear about your travels.

Nor didn't know that it had been you who landed, but when Ri'nela came to fetch him, both relief and dread fought each other in his stomach, his lungs barely expanding enough for him to breathe. He follows the tsahik out of his new kelku and toward the crowd, unconsciously keeping his head down so you wouldn't immediately see him.

Not like that was an issue as you were currently occupied by your friends and family, barely giving you time to dismount from your ikran before you were bombarded with hugs and warm welcomes.

"Y/n!"

"Teylan!" You laugh excitedly, hopping down from your banshee as Teylan runs up to you. He bends low just before he scoops you up in his arms and swings you around in the air enthusiastically, causing you to let out a soft squeal of surprise.

Nor watched this soft display from a distance, a small twinge of his tail indicating he was slightly jealous. He was aware of what Teylan had done and knew why neither you nor Ri'nela felt the need to tell Nor about their friend's betrayal after the first HQ was destroyed. At the time, Nor was hateful and blamed everyone who wronged him and his loved ones. He understands why he was never told about Teylan's betrayal, knowing it wouldn't have gone well... knowing that it might have ended up like what happened with Alma's avatar.

Despite coming to terms with himself and calmly accepting both Alma and Teylan's betrayals, Nor couldn't help but feel bothered as he watched Teylan set you down and begin rambling about everything you might have missed while you were gone. It bothered him that you had forgiven Teylan easily enough, your smile wide and keeping your eyes solely on your dear friend as he talked so he knew he had your full attention. 

So'lek walked up and greeted you as well with a small yet warm smile, asking about your travels and other clans. Nor felt his eyes lower in shame. While the lone warrior was sympathetic to Nor and how he felt, So'lek has yet to speak to him, only watching from a distance with those disappointed eyes. Nor couldn't blame him. He had let So'lek down, just like many others.

He stands back, letting everyone else greet you first, but Ri'nela won't let him run away, no matter how much he wishes he could. Keeping Nor to stay put with just one, pointed glare, she turns away and walks up to you, embracing you tightly before whispering into your ear,

"There is someone here to see you."

"Is it Anufi?" You asked excitedly, not yet catching whatever dire note was in your friend's voice as you pulled out of her hug to inspect her face, continuing to ramble, "Or Okul? I promised them I would bring some of Relun's best recipes the next time I visited. I didn't think Okul would be so impatient--"

You cut yourself off, voice faltering on your tongue as your eyes catch movement behind Ri'nela. Peering over her shoulder, words fail you as your eyes widen in shock, face quickly losing color as if you had seen a ghost. 

Nor felt his skin prickle under your watchful eye, noting the way your ears and tail fell before he could even blink. Standing closer to you than before, he made a quick observation about your attire, his eyes scanning the songcord running up and down your arm, longer than it had ever been before. His own ears lowered when he noticed a familiar item dangling from the cord.

You still had his stone. He wasn't sure if that made him feel better or worse.

~~~~~~~~~

After you were given time to relax and have a home-cooked meal with your friends and loved ones, you found yourself in a secluded part of the forest near the base, arms crossed and internal walls up as you stood before Nor, alone. Ri'nela insisted the two of you talked privately, and the two of you both had your own reasons to disagree with her, but didn't dare protest. 

You let the two of you linger in a long, sullen silence, making Nor's skin crawl uncomfortably, keeping his eyes lowered to the ground while yours practically bore into his flesh. He wished he didn't deserve your hatred, knowing that you were unforgiving when you wanted to be. Perhaps it was because you were younger, but you always seemed so... kind and gentle, but eager to fight for what was right. You always wanted to fight for your home, for the memory of your mother and sister. You had wanted to fight so that other Na'vi children never went through what you went through with Nor, Ri'nela, Teylan, and the other Sarentu children who were abducted. Nor has seen your fire directed at the Sky People and he was always proud to witness your ruthlessness... but he never thought he'd be on the receiving end of it. 

And now that you were less young and less naive, it was hard to picture that younger, more hopeful you. As he stood before you, he couldn't help but wonder where had the time gone.

Your eyes never leave his form, your expression impassive as you finally spoke, "How long before you leave again?"

Nor flinched, eyes still downcast, "I... I don't intend on leaving."

"Like you did last time."

He winced once more, voice quiet in response, "Could you ever forgive me?"

Your eyes narrow, "Why should I?"

"You seem to have forgiven Teylan easily enough."

"Because at least Teylan stayed and did everything in his power to show he deserved forgiveness," you snapped. Although you never raised your voice, your words still felt like a punch to the gut, "At least Cortez stayed and tried her best to right her wrongs, instead of running like a coward and avoiding her responsibilities."

His eyes finally lift to meet hers, irises riddled with guilt and pain, "I'm so sorry..."

You glared at him for what felt like forever when really it was only a few minutes. Eventually, your posture relaxes, the anger bleeding away into defeat and quiet resentment. You shook your head, voice equally as quiet as his, "I don't blame you for how you feel. I don't even blame you for what you did, despite how much I wish you didn't do it."

Your own eyes lowered, unable to look at him as you whispered, "I blame you for leaving and not making it right. For abandoning us-- your family."

Nor wanted to reach out and touch you, but instead curled his hands into fists to restrain himself, keeping them at his sides while looking out over the forest, "Why... Why didn't you just track me down and drag me back?"

He couldn't help but wonder. You were an excellent tracker and hunter, far more observant and patient than he had ever been. Many times while he was alone out in the wild, he would dream of you ambushing him, screaming at the top of your lungs before you grabbed him by the ear and brought him back... back home. Nor would often wake up from these dreams and feel cold, often looking around to see if you were actually there or not. But you never showed up.

You bite your lip, "I thought about it... many times actually. Sometimes it was almost an unbearable temptation and I had to keep busy to stop myself."

He glanced back with disbelief, "Why?"

"Because as much as I hate you..." If you had realized just how much those words hurt him, you didn't show it, your mind far away even as you looked directly at him, practically looking right through him, "I would never make you do anything against your will. That would make me no better than Mercer. You wanted to be left alone. So that's what I gave you... even if it left the most unimaginable pain in my chest. It was worse than Aha'ri because at least I knew my sister was dead... but I had no idea where you were or if you were alive."

Nor was harshly reminded of what he saw in the Circle of Ancestors, your pain still at the very front of his mind, the very pain he caused for disappearing without a trace. His eyes glance down to your wrist, longingly staring at the small stone with the mark of the Sarentu he had carved into its surface.

"I'm sorry."

"You said that. You also said that you go wherever I go," she followed his gaze and lifted the stone up to her eye level, staring at it while remembering all of those promises he made the day he gave the stone to her, "You said if you ever leave, it would only be when I was ready to go with you. You lied."

Nor finally stepped forward, hands reaching out to you as he tried to bargain, "B... But I'm here now. I-- I'm here to stay and make things right again. I can make things right. Teylan and Alma... they came back to make things right. I want to do the same."

"Yes. Now. When the fighting is over, not when it mattered." You bite back.

He sucked in air through his teeth, hissing as though he was in pain, your words like venom, "I know. I know I made a mistake. I should have returned immediately after leaving. I should have gone to cool off and then come straight back to you. I... I should not have hurt Alma. I should not have hurt you." 

"And unless you can turn back time, you can't change what you've done," you step away, keeping your distance, keeping your walls high and on guard as you mutter, "I should be grateful you wanted to try and traditionally court me. If we hadn't taken things slow... had we mated... I don't think I could have survived what you did."

Your eyes glare deep in his soul, "What was that phrase Mercer used to say? 'I dodged a bullet?'"

Nor's ears stay low and pinned to his skull, looking like a kicked puppy, "Please do not say that."

"Why?"

"Because you are not Mercer."

"No, but as of right now, it's easier to say his name than yours," the words stung, hurting Nor even more when he caught the way your voice cracked. Glancing up, his heart shattered at the sight of tears slowly spilling down your face, your lip trembling as you tried to keep your words steady, "I expected Mercer to do terrible things. I... I never expected for you-- for you to--"

Leave.

You scoff to yourself, your words ashes in your mouth, "I should've known. You wanted to leave from the start. Maybe if I had let you go from the start, this would have hurt less."

"But I am here now," he quickly soothes, "I'm here."

You don't glare at him, but your wet eyes bore into him as though he had betrayed you all over again. You let out a shaky sigh through your nose as you slowly open your mouth, making your tongue move before you could hold back your words, "... I don't need you right now. I needed you back then, but not now. I needed you when it mattered."

He could almost see your walls building ever higher in your mind and heart, his own beginning to crumble to dust, "Y/n, please--"

"I'm not going to make you leave again," you quickly add, turning your back to him as you start walking back toward the Resistance base, distantly speaking without sparing any emotions, "I'll do that myself. I have to leave at first light tomorrow to meet up with the Zeswa before they take off for migration. I think it would be best if you and I don't interact from here on out whenever I come back home. Stay or leave, I don't care anymore."

You walk back without uttering another word. You don't even look back to see Nor's reaction. He watches you retreat until you completely disappear from view, the urge to run after you so strong he has to bite his tongue from calling out to you. Something made him stay put, letting you go despite how his anger and sadness were pleading with him to pick up his feet, to follow you, to say everything he didn't know how to say but by Eywa, he wanted to try.

But he didn't. He knew this was no more than he deserved for what he put you through alone.

~~~~~~~~~

A/n: This is definitely getting a Part 3 😈 Lemme know if you would like to be tagged in it!

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[asleeponelmstreet]

Burnt (part 2)

Part 1 Part 3

Charlie takes you to a show, and you are confronted by your past.

Tags: Alastor x female reader, Blitzø x female reader, eventual smut, lots of angst, panic attacks, drug use, Charlie and Angel Dust being the best friends a reader could ask for

wc: 3,244

This takes place after S1 of Hazbin Hotel and before Helluva Boss S2 E7 Mammon's Magnificent Musical Mid-Season Special. I don't know if that timeline is canon, but it's what works for my story so that's what I'm doing.

You can also read this on AO3 here if you'd prefer.

Minors DNI!!!

Fuck.

This was not fucking happening.

Your muscles stiffened the moment you stepped outside of the bright pink limousine that took Charlie and you to the show. A tingling sensation crawled up the tips of your fingers as you realized the mistake you had made, not asking the princess who you were seeing in the first place. Now you found yourself facing a grand concert hall adorned with a gigantic banner for the most famous clown in all the seven rings of Hell, the great Fizzarolli.

Your chest tightened at the sight of him plastered on every available surface in the general vicinity. It had been impossible to ignore one of the most well-known faces in Hell, but you did your best to shove down all the emotions that just the mention of his name evoked from you. But here, surrounded by all these pictures of your long-lost friend, it was just too much.

A high-pitched ringing filled your ears, drowning out all the noise of the city as well as your heartbeat thrumming in your chest. After thanking the driver, Charlie grabbed your hand and pulled you towards a side door away from the main entrance. You let her tug you along, not trusting your own feet to carry your weight. You could vaguely hear her say, “Being the princess of Hell comes with some perks” through the buzzing in your ears.

She led you up a small flight of stairs, into an elevator that sped towards the top floor and through a doorway guarded by security and a red velvet rope. The whole time you wracked your brain for a way out, but you came up with nothing. Your mind was about as useless as soup, alphabet soup. The letters only came together to form self-hating words and phrases that were not helpful right now: Idiot. You should have known better. Coward. This is on you. Traitor. It’s all my fault. That last one is the only one not in your own cruel voice.

The room you found yourself in was elegant, almost entirely built of glass walls along with an open front window facing the stage. If you weren’t brimming with dread and starting to feel a bit nauseous, you would be giddy with excitement at the prospect of seeing a live performance from these luxurious box seats, fit for demon royalty. Growing up an imp from a poor family, you never dreamt of being somewhere like this – getting to see how the other half lives.

Velvet couches faced the stage with a few cocktail tables brimming with finger foods interspersed throughout the room. A fully stocked bar took up the back wall, complete with a bartender who didn’t appear to be drinking (or sleeping) on the job. A part of you wished Husk was behind the bar instead to bring some much needed comfort from your new life into this blast from the past. “Soooo what do you think? Isn’t it amazing?!” Charlie asked excitedly, waving her hands around as if she couldn’t keep her happiness to just her beaming smile.

Someone else entered the room before you could answer saving you for a few more moments. You didn’t know how it was possible, but Charlie’s face lit up even more when she saw them. “Uncle Ozzie!” she practically screamed as you turned to face the person who had joined you in what you had thought was a private space. You would have recognized him even if Charlie hadn’t said the name – though, you didn’t know him personally. Asmodeus, the King of Lust.

Your friend did a running jump into his arms, wrapping him in a great big bear hug. He reciprocated the tight embrace, planting a chaste kiss on the top of her blonde head before settling back down on the floor as if she were a child and not the tall, lanky thing before you.

“It’s always a pleasure to receive one of your strangling hugs Charlie.” His voice was as deep and smooth as you imagined the finest bourbon. “I’m so glad you finally made it to one of Fizz’s shows! How’s that dear old dad of yours? Haven’t seen him in quite a while.”

Charlie talked with THE embodiment of Lust as if he was a close family friend, but your mind wouldn’t let go of the familiarity in which he said Fizz’s name. You knew at that moment that the gossip columns you tried your best to avoid were right. Hell’s worst-kept secret was true. The powerful demon had a much more intimate relationship with your old friend than just working together on the popular sexbots made in Fizz’s image.

“Forgive me, I should introduce you two,” Charlie said. At the mention of your name, you thought you saw something — maybe a flicker of recognition in his eyes. You wondered if Fizz told him about you. But you quickly pushed the thought away, not wanting to think of what he would have revealed to the powerful demon now standing before you.

The show was about to begin, and Asmodeus motioned to you two to join him on the couch. You complied, but you were still on edge, trying to decide the best way to get out of this situation without offending Charlie who so sweetly invited you out tonight.

After all these years apart, you were about to see Fizz perform with his secret beau sitting only a princess of Hell away. You tried to ignore him, the way he looked at you as if you were a puzzle to be solved. Looking out into the crowd below was worse. Fans decked in merchandise featuring Fizz’s name and likeness filled the seats. They were screaming his name, cheering him on even before he appeared on stage. Some of the freaks were even debauching their sexbots right there in the crowd.

It was still hard to think of all the freaks who had their hands on him (even robot versions of him) since the last time you touched him. The overt sexualization of Fizz made you feel even sicker than you were before if that was even possible. You had seen it all before, but only in small doses. You even came across several of his robot clones throughout the years but did your best to steer clear of them at all costs. If you ever did, you had to remind yourself repeatedly that it wasn’t him – even if the RoboFizzs looked identical in every way.

But he was everywhere here. His name, his face, his fucking body. His body. Just thinking about what the fire did to his body made bile rise in your throat. And what they did and are probably still doing to his body today. The room started to spin the more you got lost in your thoughts, you gripped the armrests to ground yourself. That’s when you noticed Asmodeus eying your nails digging into the supple velvet.

The curtains parted and his small figure appeared center stage. Your stomach lurched and you felt tears coming. Damn, you’ve already cried so much today. You didn’t think your ego could handle it anymore. But it was too much. His arms and legs stretched out to unnatural lengths as he said something, but you couldn’t hear it over the sound of your heartbeat and the roaring crowd. That’s it. I’m out of here, you thought. “I’m going to the bathroom,” you ran towards the door cradling your stomach. Charlie jumped up to show you the way, you assumed, but you bolted towards the door before she could catch up to you.

Once you locked yourself in the bathroom stall, you fell forward releasing the contents of your stomach into the toilet bowl. It burned – probably from the hot sauce – and tears stuck tufts of your hair to your forehead. You tried to pull at your hair to keep it from falling into the bowl as you retched, but it was no use. You were a mess.

The knock at the stall door didn’t startle you. You knew who it was. “You know there’s a private bathroom a bit closer to our seats…” she paused as if reconsidering what to say. “Can I help you?” You gave in because damn you really did need help. You fumbled at the lock on the door until it opened, and she was down on the floor by your side.

“I can hold your hair back for you,” and with that, she took the ribbon from her hair and tied it around your own. Even with it tied back she gently held your hair keeping it from falling over your shoulders as you continued to throw up.

Once your stomach was emptied of everything that you had eaten that day, you lay your head against the wall and let yourself cry. “I’m sorry you’re missing the show,” you choked out.

“Shh, it’s okay. I can come back any time,” she cooed. She took your hands in hers and just held them in silence as you continued your embarrassing meltdown. After a few minutes, she asked, “Do you think it’s something you ate?”

“No—uh, yeah. Maybe?” You said, shaking your head. You just blew your best excuse. Why hadn’t you thought about feigning sickness? Probably because your brain was just about as functioning as that summer when you spent all your earnings on heroin and horse tranquilizers. That would be preferred to how you were feeling right now.

Charlie moved in closer to your side, wrapping your shaking body up in her long limbs and rubbing soothing circles into your sore muscles. “Would it help to talk about it?” she asked. “If you don’t want to, I understand. I can tell you’re holding a lot in. But if you’re not ready, you’re not ready.”

You were so used to holding it all in. Holding it all back. Her comforting presence made you think that if you opened up just a bit, it may provide some relief. But you wouldn’t crack, you knew better. If you told her everything, she would never look at you the same way again. You couldn’t lose her or the hotel. They were the only things that gave your life a purpose anymore. “I’m not ready,” you said. She didn’t frown or let disappointment show on her face, but you imagined that she expected you to open up. She lived for those sappy heart-to-heart conversations that you avoided at all costs.

Charlie sat with you on the floor of the bathroom in silence until you were ready to leave. She explained that she just needed to say goodbye to Asmodeus and then the two of you could go back to the hotel.

Once you were back in the private room, you hung back while she told him you weren’t feeling well. Charlie had done a good job at helping you fix up your makeup and hair in the bathroom, but you knew the demon of lust didn’t have to be very perceptive to know why you had missed the start of the performance.

Before you could escape the door, his eyes locked with yours. His gaze startingly soft. “Charlie has my number if you would ever like to see Fizz. I can speak with him.” He danced around it as if not wanting to reveal anything, but you knew. The fact that he said see and not meet. He knew something and this was an invitation.

The ride back was silent as stared out the back window, thinking about what Asmodeus said the whole way home. What did it mean really? Was there a possibility that Fizz didn’t hate you? Or that he could forgive you? You couldn’t even begin to wrap your mind around it.

You walked into the hotel lobby, expecting to have to make up an excuse for why you were back hours early. Luckily, it was just Husk asleep with a half-empty bottle of liquor behind the bar. Charlie pulled you in for one last hug, reminding you that if you needed anything she would be there before the two of you went your separate ways.

Once you were in the privacy of your room, you slumped on your newly made bed. You didn’t bother to bathe or change before you curled up into a ball. You wouldn’t cry, you couldn’t. You had already shed more tears today than you had in your entire life. More than after the fire. More than when you learned your parents died. More than when Fizz refused to see you. More than when he left.

Sleep didn’t come. No matter how many times you tried to empty your mind of all the thoughts clouding it. You squeezed your eyes shut, but the darkness behind your eyelids gave way to Fizz’s face. Seeing it plastered on every poster in the concert hall and briefly on stage before you made a run for the bathroom brought back so many memories. His little head tossed back in a fit of giggles, that smirk he threw your way amid a round of applause and those wide eyes full of hope before you turned your back on him.

After tossing and turning in bed for over an hour, you gave up. You tiptoed to your dresser where you found your hidden stash in your underwear drawer. Sitting astride the open windowsill that looked out on Pentagram City, you thought about how you found comfort in the place you least expected.

As you exhaled smoke, the tension in your body released a little. A few more inhales silenced your unquiet mind, letting you focus on the better parts of the day. Like Angel rushing to your side in the morning. And how kind it was of Charlie to invite you out in the first place. And was that a compliment you received from Alastor – of all the sinners in Hell? That overlord may have come from Earth, but the stories about his reign of terror preceded him.

A soft knock at your door had you scrambling to put your joint out and hide it along with the rest of your stash behind a curtain. Probably not the smartest move, but you weren’t exactly thinking clearly.

The door creaked open, and the top of Angel’s head peaked into your room, “It’s just me. Don’t worry the fun police is fast asleep.” You sighed in relief. Though you had a feeling Charlie would have been a bit more understanding of your rule-breaking after the day you had. “Is that fuckin’ grass, babe? What are we in the fourth grade?” the spider teased.

“It helps with the nausea… and my nerves,” you said tossing your hair out of your face before relighting what was left of your joint. You motioned for him to join you if he wanted. Though, you had a feeling he would have preferred some of his namesake or at least some Devil’s Dandruff as Charlie liked to call it.

For all that teasing, the porn demon still didn’t refuse a high. Angel joined you on the windowsill and took what was left of the joint you offered him as you lit another. “I saw Charlie earlier,” he said slowly between puffs as if he was trying not to rile a rabid animal. “Are you feeling any better?”

“Yeah, some.” You mumbled, perfectly content with smoking in silence but also not hating the company. Angel looked out at the skyline, gazing over all the bright glittering lights from all the buildings filled with sinners who never seemed to sleep.

“Why did you come here?” He asked. “You could’ve gone anywhere in Hell, but you moved to this tacky-ass hotel.” You smiled, knowing it was all a façade. Maybe he crashed at the hotel for a free rent at first but since you’ve gotten to know him, you knew he cared about it, about Charlie and her dream of redeeming sinners. “We don’t even know if sinners can get into Heaven.”

“I know there’s no way for imps to get into Heaven. That’s not why I’m here.” You let out a sigh. “But there are other ways to redeem yourself even if you’re not getting anything out of it.”

“Isn’t that the whole point of redemption?” Your immediate thought was no, but you did technically want redemption for selfish reasons even if they weren’t the same as his.

“I guess, but I’m not trying to get into heaven. I just wanted to help, and I thought it might help me find some relief.”

“Relief from what?”

“All the guilt.” You looked down at your lap, knowing it sounded stupid.

Angel cackled. “What do you have to be guilty of? You’re a fucking demon.”

“Well, I’ve killed more than I can count.”

“Ha! Haven’t we all?”

“True. And I don’t feel guilty for most of it.”

“Then, what is it?”

Although the conversation was getting a bit too serious for your liking, you felt like you owed him some truth. “I hurt the people I love. And even after losing everything, I keep doing it over and over again.”

Angel’s expression grew serious, and he thought for a moment before speaking. “We all do that. It comes with the territory.”

“No, you don’t understand.” You looked away from him. “It’s different.”

“Everyone thinks they’re different, hon. You’re not special.”

“I guess.” You pouted, wanting this conversation to be over. Maybe you could change the subject to something else. “Alastor complimented me today…” You noticed the time on the alarm clock beside your bed. “Or I guess, yesterday.”

“Al complimented you?! Didn’t know he had it in him. Are you sure he wasn’t sizing you up for a meal? What’d he say?”

“He said I looked absolutely divine,” you used your best impression of the radio demon when saying those two words.

“Oh, yeah. He totally wants to eat you.” You giggled, but Angel went on. “And not in a sexy way. I don’t think he’s interested. I would know because he keeps turning me down. Me!”

“Maybe he plays for another team,” you mused.

“Or he doesn’t even play the game at all. Because anyone would be all over this.” He emphasized his point by motioning to his body and doing a slutty little hip thrust that almost shifted him out the window. You grabbed him by the shoulders to make sure he didn’t fall as you tried to contain your laughter.

“You’re right. Anyone who refuses you is out of their mind!” You leaned your head on his shoulder.

“Hey, don’t mock me. You know it’s true. I’m surprised we haven’t hooked up yet.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

“I like you too much, Angie. I haven’t had a real friend in a long time, and I wouldn’t want to ruin it.” You also had a feeling he’d much rather be fucking Husk or Al than messing around with you.

“Why would it ruin it?” He leaned into you seductively, close enough that your lips were almost touching. “C’mon, it’d be hot,” he purred.

“Don’t think I haven’t thought about it,” you crooned. “Maybe someday, but not today.” You could see it being fun, but that’s all it would be. And although you weren’t a saint, you tried to avoid those kinds of situations now.

You nuzzled into the crook of his neck, wondering if Angel knew how much you needed this distraction.

Thank you so much for reading! Hope you enjoyed it. I know Alastor isn't in this chapter but he'll be back, I promise. And if you're patiently waiting for Blitzø, don't worry I am too. I had to post this so I would stop worrying about it and finally be able to focus on the next part. It may have a little bit of spice. But shhhh... you didn't hear that from me.

tag list: @sirens-and-moonflowers @whoknowswhoiamtoday y'all literally made my week, thank you <3

[zeezelweazel]

I would love it if you started writing for Chloe kelly

Chloe Kelly| Lost in euphoria|

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My girl is having such a great season, hope we can win the league cuz Chelsea needs to be humbled. Anyway I'm still not over that world cup final so have this.

First Chloe fic let's goo

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You can't sleep. Of course you can't, the world cup final is tomorrow. You bled sweat and tears to get to this point. With your captain and best player in the world barely back in shape and the federation being full of sexist assholes you feel like you've fought a war to reach the final.

Nerves are normal before matches like this one. The winner takes it all and you have to make sure that you are the winner. You've learnt how to live with it and get over it so you can give it your all on the pitch. This time though it's different, because you're playing England in the final.

You dread the moment you have to step on the pitch. They want this as much as you and they need this as much as you. How will you be able to play against your girlfriend in such a game? Sure, you play eachother often enough, in the league and even the cup sometimes and you're definitely used to the rivalry given how she plays for manchester city and you for united but this is different. This is a world cup final. An entire nation depends on you.

Just as you're about to turn around and try to sleep your phone lights up with a notification. You look at the screen to see a message.

Baby blue 💙

Hey

I can't sleep

You smile when you see Chloe's text, immediately forgetting about the match tomorrow. You grab your phone and text her back immediately. You probably should be getting some sleep before such an important game but it's not like you'd do anything but roll around in bed all night. Plus talking to Chloe always helps you relax, right now it also helps you forget the fact that tomorrow she'd be your biggest rival.

|•••••|

No words can describe the feeling of playing in a wolrd cup final. The atmosphere is electric, your whole body pumbed with adrenaline and nerves that only got worse when the whistle blew. You were equal parts relieved and upset that Chloe wasn't on the starting line up. She deserves to be on the starting eleven, you know this but you can't help but feel relieved that you can prolong playing against her.

The first half is obviously in your favour. England's attacks are disjointed and messy, most of them not leading to anything good. You and Ona didn't let anything get through, closing down every English attack. The forwards are doing their job successfully, as expected with Aitana bossing the midfield and pulling the strings. Sure enough after a stady and good performance Olga manages to open the scoreline with a good shot.

Your first instinct is to turn to Irene and hug her tightly before running to meet the rest of the girls up ahead and join in the celebrations.

After the half time whistle blew you were very eager to finally get the chance to catch your breath. You blocked the annoying drill of Vilda's voice and instead focused on keeping your head clear and your mind set on the target. You know England wasn't going to give up easily.

A few moments later Jenni places a hand on your shoulder and shakes you out of your thoughts. The second half was about to start, but when you get up from the bench and move to the pitch you see Chloe doing the same. Of course she'd be subbed in on the second half, England needed to get better on the final third and your girlfriend was the perfect choice alongside Lauren James.

You took a deep breath and tried to ignore the awful feelings that tried to crawl up your chest. You thought you were used to playing against her but this is different. This is the world cup.

Right before the whistle blows you try and catch her eyes but Chloe's gaze is firmly locked on the ball. You gulp down any last remnants of nervousness and focus.

Chloe and Lauren change the game immediately and England's attacks start gaining momentum but with how well you and the rest of the Spanish defence are playing said momentum is quickly crumbling.

The clock is ticking and even though Jenni missed a penalty England is getting desperate for an equaliser. They've come close a couple times but still nothing and now with the final minutes of extra time it looks like it's over. But of course, life is never that easy.

Two minutes of extra time remain when a fatal mistake is made. England steals the ball in your half of the pitch and with Ona out of position there's a huge open space. The ball is thrown ahead by James and within a second Chloe is on it with you chasing behind. The crowd is already starting to go wild for something that looks to be a certain goal. Chloe is closing in on goal but just as she's about to lift her foot to take the shot you slide on the pitch and manage to knock the ball off her feet in a clean tackle that has half the crowd gasping and groaning in defeat and the other half cheering and clapping wildly. Chloe gets up and goes for the ball immediately, the blonde not one to give up until she hears the whistle but you're on her once more and you cut off her desperate attempt at a last minute cross to the Spanish box.

Once the ball goes out of play the ref blows the whistle and it's all over.

The crowd erupts in a loud roar, players and fans alike jumping in happiness or slumping in defeat. Before you can react half of the team is swarming you, patting your back and kissing your cheeks and ruffling your hair. Alexia pulls you in a tight embrace and you can't help but return it with teary eyes.

"You saved us Y/N. You won us the world cup."

You release a watery laugh and shake your head at your captain.

"No Ale, it was all of us. We did this."

It takes a while for all the girls to spread on the field but when they do your eyes instinctively scan the field for a familiar blonde ponytail.

You see Chloe sitting on the side of the pitch, seemingly not having moved since the final whistle. Lauren Hemp is by her side rubbing a hand down Chloe's back. She notices your approach and leaves the two of you alone. You sit down beside her and for a while neither of you talk. The atmosphere is tense and you feel like if you don't say something soon you'll lose your mind.

"I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry."

You both look at eachother before you burst out in a short fit of light giggles. When you stop laughing your smile falls slightly at the sight of Chloe's puffy eyes and you softly wipe some stray tears from her cheeks.

"I ruined it for you, I'm so sorry I-"

Chloe looked at you with surprise evident on her face. She shook her head and took one of your hands holding it tightly.

"You did what any great degender would've done. That was like, the best tackle I've seen."

You laugh and lean closer to her. You knew that your girlfriend wouldn't be upset about what happened but part of you feels guilty that you stripped her of that moment. A moment of silce washes over the both of you as Chloe plays with you hands.

"We failed."

Her words were soft and defeated, so different from her usual loud and confident attitude, that it tugged on your heart strings painfully. You placed your hand on her face and softly urged her to look up to you.

"You didn't fail Chloe. You finished second in the world cup. I understand how painful it is to get so close to a trophy just to lose it on the last minute but failing is not even making it past the group stage or getting eliminated in the round of 16. You did amazing, I'm so proud of you."

Your insides feel warm when a big grin breaks it's way into Chloe's face.

"God, I wish I could kiss you right now."

You laugh and nod in agreement but there's no rush. You'll have all the time in the world to spent on celebrating your win with your girlfriend. Your little bubble pops when you notice Alexia beckoning you to get up. You guess it's time for the ceremony. You turn to Chloe one last time and smile. She pats your cheek and gets up before helping you rise off the pitch as well.

"Come on world champion, you have a trophy to lift."

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