#i want you to know. i spent so so long on this because the moment i finished his face i was on the verge of tears
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I'm over winter. I need sundress obsessed Quinn back in my life, k thanks! 🤤
Gods, you and me both! 🙂↕️ Mild content warning//implied sexual interactions.
"I want to take you somewhere," Quinn smirked, watching you put your makeup on. He hadn't been standing there very long, however long enough that he was obviously up to something. You had flown to Florida yesterday morning, so you had spent the day with him at the lake house. Today, it seemed, someone was suffering from cabin fever.
"Like where?" You asked, focused on setting your false lashes in the right spot.
"I dunno. Just...somewhere."
With a soft laugh, you'd shoot him a cute, sideways glance. "That sounds slightly ominous, babe."
Quinn smirked a second time, "I just want to take you out for the day, show you around."
"Show me around or show me off?" You teased, making him laugh at your quick whit.
"Both?"
"Quinny!" You replied in comedic shock, in that whiny tone he loved. You knew what he meant, but you couldn't miss the opportunity to tease him.
"You know I love you," he reassured, leaving the doorframe he was leaned against to come up behind you. His hands found your waist while you found your mascara.
"I love you too, Quinn." You tried to ignore him after that, but as you leaned forward, to get closer to the mirror, you couldn't help but press into his hips and see him smile over your shoulder.
"What are you trying to do?" He said, trying to contain a wider smile, one brow arched slightly.
"I'm trying to do my makeup, Quinn! I don't know what it is you're doing!" Try as you might, you'd break first. Your giggles instantly melting away your once determined facade.
Quinn would pull you a little closer, "I'm just standing here."
You stood up, turning around to ruin whatever fun he was trying to have. His pout the clear indication, like taking a toy away from a child. "I'll make a deal with you, baby."
Catching his attention, that bottom lip would quickly retract, "Yeah?"
"Mhm, how about you go pick me something to wear while I finish my makeup? Then you can show me off, or around," you winked, giving him a quick kiss.
Quinn's expression brightened, like he wasn't expecting you to say anything like that. It was clear that he was excited to have such permission. "Really?"
He could be so ridiculously adorable, especially when his emotions were genuine. "Really."
"Anything?" He pressed, that devious tone you forgot he had, painting his reply.
"Within reason, Quinn." You said, giving him one of "those looks". "I'm sure there are enough options for you to pick from. I know I over-packed like always."
He'd give a playful look on his face before leaving you to finish getting ready. You could have watched him dig through your suitcase, but you really did want to be finished just incase he was much quicker than anticipated. Thankfully, your over-night curls just needed let down, so once he came back, you'd be ready within ten minutes, if he could keep his hands off of you long enough to do so.
Lashes done, lipstick on, and after a quick spritz of some setting spray, you just needed to be given your chosen outfit. Finding it odd that you had actually finished before him, you made your way back into his adjoining bedroom to see what was keeping him. There, on the bed, Quinn had two sundresses laid out, standing before him like he was making a ground-breaking decision.
"Problems?" You asked, wrapping your arms around his waist.
"No...," he lied, pausing for a moment. "I like this one for today, I think."
You'd let go of him to see what he had picked, and honestly, you weren't surprised which ones had made the final selection. There was a reason you had packed so many sundresses, not just because it was Florida in the summertime, but because you remembered how a few of them had driven him crazy the first time you had wore them. The one he was holding was black and covered with orange and yellow sunflowers. It had a fuller skirt; one meant for twirling around, and just low-cut enough in the front that the girls could be seen if he wanted a tasteful peek.
"I love this one," you commented, taking it from him and slipping away to the bathroom once more. It wouldn't take long to get into it, or to let your hair down. Quinn had patiently waited for you to come out instead of asking you if you needed him. In reality, you'd have to ask him to help you with the zipper. You could have done it yourself, but it was more fun if you included him, knowing it would make his heart race just a little.
"Baby, can you help me?" You asked, standing in the doorway.
"Of course."
You pulled your hair over your shoulder, the black satin hairbow affixed at the back of your head had been sprayed with your perfume and it was now near his nose.
"You smell wonderful," he added, his shaky fingers fumbling with the zipper for a moment.
"Thank you. It's the perfume you got me for my birthday," you said, turning around once he was done.
"And you look beautiful." Quinn couldn't take his eyes off your body, it taking him a moment to return his gaze to your face. It didn't bother you, because you knew Quinn never put your looks before the real reasons he loved you so much. 'How you look is just a bonus,' he always reassured you, and you knew he meant it.
"Thank you, baby," you smiled, arms falling around his neck as he held you; his hands tracing the curves of your body lightly. "I love you."
"I love you, too. I love you so much," he grinned, finding your mouth for a soft kiss that developed into a deeper one.
"Careful, or you'll be wearing more of my lipstick than I am."
His lips would trace your jawline then down your neck. You'd squirm slightly against the feeling of his stubble against your body as he moved to dot the lightest kisses atop your exposed cleavage, you smiling the whole time.
"I don't want to go anywhere, just yet. Maybe in a little bit. I think there might be a storm coming in or something," he smirked, picking you up to take you over to the bed. Quinn would lay you down gently, his delicate fingers sliding up your thighs as he urged you just to lay back and relax. "There's plenty of time to go out later."
#quinn hughes#quinn hughes x reader#quinn hughes one shot#quinn hughes imagine#quinn hughes fic#quinn hughes fanfiction#hockey imagine#hockey x reader#hockey fanfiction#hockey fic#hockey oneshot
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I’m thinking about roommates buck and bucky. They are both helplessly and miserably in love with each other, but of course neither of them says anything, because of the fear that it’s one sided and that it might ruin their perfect friendship. There’s so much tension between them and miscommunication and looking at each other in longing and evenings spent together on the couch and mornings filled with the smell of the coffee and soft good mornings, but it stays like that, it’s too good to be ruined by the kiss, sudden and maybe a bit aggressive, because it’s been so long and “I’ve wanted to do this from the moment we met”
So what if one night bucky gets a call from marge, telling him that gale needs his help and gives him the address and when john gets there, it’s some shady bar and he’s immediately concerned. When he goes inside he finds marge sitting in front of gale who is resting his head on the table. Gale’s sitting with his back towards john so he doesn’t know that he’s there. Marge gives him a small wave and john gets closer and that’s when he hears gale’s voice. He’s drunk. He’s obviously so drunk and Gale doesn’t drink? But then he manages to catch the words and john immediately gets frozen on spot. His speech is bit slurred but bucky hears him just right. And what if gale is almost whining about how “he has the most beautiful smile you know?” “Have you seen him smile marge?”, “and he’s so big too like how is that even fair?” “Oh and the mustache? At first I was like what the fuck but now I can’t stop thinking about it. I think it would feel so good. You know what else would feel good?” Thats when Marge gives john the look that says “SAVE ME”
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Cigarette break
Maybe it's a bit ooc on Logan's party his old age had made him soft 🥺 but I love him being awkwardly affectionate with Laura. Dad bod Logan y'all. This one has a tiny bit of reader
He knows he shouldn't be doing this because you hate it. You hate how it poisons his lungs, how each drag consumes him a little. You worry so much about his health sometimes it annoys him. But making you and Laura happy is his top priority so he tries his best to break out of this habit.
That's easier said than done. No matter how many years he spent training in Japan, learning about discipline, self control and meditation, this vice is nearly impossible to quit, the need for nicotine gets under his skin and doesn't leave until he lights another one.
So that's why he has to smoke in secret now. Not as frequently as he would like to, because you are too smart for your own good and could figure out something's up. That's one of the things he admires of you, even if it's inconveniencing him right now.
Logan just grumbles some excuse about taking out the trash, and just stays on the porch, away from your prying eyes, quietly enjoying his cigar. He feels like he's committing a terrible sin, but fuck, he is trying as much as he can to not give in.
"Y/N hates it when you smoke."
Logan prided himself on not flinching with fright when Laura suddenly appeared by his side. How long had she been there? Jesus Christ, he's going to have to put a bell on her.
He just let out a soft hum. He had been caught, what excuse could he make?
Laura quietly walked towards him and awkwardly hugged his leg. With his free hand he slowly patted her head. None of them were really accustomed to being affectionate with each other, shit he's not even sure Laura was used to being affectionate with anyone that wasn't you. They were still finding some middle term that both feel comfortable with, it usually led to a few weird encounters, but they were both pretty headstrong and refused to give up.
They stood there for a few minutes, which was the time necessary for him to finish his cigar and clean the air around them. They would have to go inside soon, or you'll start to suspect. Still, when it's time to take a step back into the house, he found himself wishing to stay like that a bit more. His old age had turned him into a softie, yet it's not frequent to see Laura being so openly affectionate with him, he would like to enjoy the moment for a bit more.
That's a vice he would never want to quit.
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Flirting with Disaster
Paring: TASM!Peter Parker x Fem!Reader (Brother's bestfriend)
Summary: You're about to go on the first real date you’ve had in years, and the nerves are hitting hard. So, you turn to the one person who might help: Peter Parker, your brother’s best friend.
Word Count: Roughly 1.5k
Warnings: Fluff, anxiety around dating, mentions of insecurities, unrequited/complicated feelings, cringe-worthy moments
Note: I’m planning on making this a three-part or a four-part. Let’s see. Oh, and I've been away from my usual shenanigans, so I am going to post twice this weekend :)
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Divider by: @strangergraphics
You sat cross-legged on your bed, phone in hand, as if looking at it too long might make it spontaneously combust. The flutter in your stomach definitely wasn’t from hunger.
No, tonight was the night—a real date. A proper date with an actual guy.
And the thought of it had you wanting to crawl under your blankets and pretend the world didn’t exist.
Your friends were all in your corner, practically sending you a virtual pep squad of texts: You got this! Go for it, girl! But deep down? You felt more like a deer in headlights. Spiraling towards your impending doom.
You weren’t ready. Mentally? Nope. Emotionally? Not even close. Physically? Definitely not.
Flirting? Kissing? Oh God. It felt like you were about to attempt something far more complicated than rocket science, like you needed a PhD in how to act normally around a guy just to get through the night. And if anything even remotely intimate was on the horizon? Yeah, that sent you straight back to high school, where you could barely look at a guy without tripping over your own feet.
Talking to your brother about this? No way. He’d send you a full PowerPoint presentation on how awkward you were, followed by an Excel spreadsheet of potential embarrassing scenarios. Your mom? She’d tell you how beautiful you were and then proceed to give you every single detail of her first date with your dad, including the color of the sweater she wore and the exact type of pasta they had.
Which left you with one option.
Peter.
Peter freakin’ Parker.
He’d been your brother’s best friend since before you could remember. Still, somewhere along the way, he’d gone from being that cocky, arrogant, too-cool-for-school guy and literal genius whose favorite pass time was annoying you to someone who made your heart do a little flip every time he looked at you. The messy hair. The cocky grin. The snarky vibe that screamed I’m cooler than you, and you were just you. Awkward. Nerdy. And definitely, the girl who’d had an intense crush on him when you were younger, an embarrassing crush at that. But, for the record, you had mostly gotten over.
Mostly.
But now, with the date creeping closer and your nerves flaring up like fireworks in your chest, you were desperate. You needed help.
So you hit dial.
“Hey, little peach.” His voice slid through the phone like melted chocolate, smooth and warm, and the kind that made your chest tighten in a way you didn’t know how to process.
“Hi, Peter,” you muttered, trying to sound casual, trying and failing miserably.
“Long time, no talk. What’s up?” His voice was laced with that familiar mischief, the one that hinted he knew something was off but was enjoying every second of the suspense. “Don’t tell me you burned down your kitchen trying to make some sad excuse for pasta and now you’re too embarrassed to call the fire department? Because, if so, I’ll happily dress up as a fireman and fulfill that fantasy for you.”
You stammered, and he laughed. Loudly.
“You’re hilarious, asshole,” you grumbled.
“I try.” He chuckled. You could practically hear his smirk. “So what’s the emergency? Need bail money? Lemme see, petty theft? Destruction of public property? Actually, scratch that, even you wouldn’t pull something like that, peach.”
Peach. That damn nickname. It hit you like a sucker punch of nostalgia. You remembered summers spent trailing behind him and your brother, trying to act like you were calm and cool while you tripped over your own feet just trying to keep up with them.
You cleared your throat, doing your best to sound like you had it together. “Uh, I need a favor.”
“What kind of favor?” Peter’s tone shifted instantly, a little more serious now. “Everything okay? You’re not in actual trouble, right?”
Panic crept up your spine. Why had you called him? This was so stupid. But here you were, spilling your guts anyway.
“Uh, yes. No. I mean…” You sighed, your voice wavering. “I have a date,” you muttered, hoping he wouldn’t hear the tremble in your voice. “It’s tonight. And I’m freaking out. Like majorly.”
There was a long pause on the other end. Then, that unmistakable chuckle, the one that made you want to punch him. “Wait. Hold on. You? Freaking out about a date? I didn’t know you had it in you little miss awkward. You?” His voice dragged out the last word like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard.
You grumbled, rolling your eyes. “Yeah, thanks for the support, asshole,” you muttered. “You’re just gonna mock me, aren’t you? This was a waste of time.”
You squeezed your eyes shut, regretting the entire call. You were better off canceling the date and hiding in your apartment with a Netflix binge and a pint of ice cream.
This was just as humiliating.
“I’m sorry for bothering you,” you mumbled. “Bye-”
“Hey, hey,” Peter interrupted. His tone softened, just a little. “I’m sorry for laughing, okay? But you know I can’t help it.”
You huffed, but something in his voice made you hesitate.
“But seriously, you? Nervous?” His voice was almost affectionate now, though he still sounded like he was having way too much fun with this. “Baby, you’re smart, you’re funny when you try, and last time I checked, you grew up gorgeous. What’s there to be nervous about, hm?”
Your heart did that weird skip thing, and you cursed your traitorous body. Baby.
He didn’t even know what he was doing to you when he said it. He said it like it was nothing—like it didn’t even matter. But it hit you harder than it should’ve.
"Easy for you to say," you snapped back, but even as you tried to sound annoyed, there was a softness creeping into your voice. “It’s been forever since, you know, I’ve had to, like, flirt or kiss or whatever. I don’t want to make a fool of myself.”
There was a long pause. Then, Peter’s voice came through, low and laced with mischief. “Wait a second. Are you asking me to teach you how to flirt? I’m honored, peach.”
“What? No!” You nearly dropped the phone in your panic. “I…wait! No! That’s not what I meant!”
“Oh, but now I have to,” Peter said, sounding far too pleased with himself. “Come over. I’ll help you practice. Flirting, kissing, whatever you need.”
You gaped at the phone, heat rushing to your face. “You can’t be serious.”
“Come on, peach,” he continued a dangerous lilt in his tone. “You used to trust me with everything. Like that time you tried to ride my skateboard when you were, what, ten? You ate it so bad I thought your brother was gonna faint. But I carried you home, dried your tears, and made you laugh instead of cry. You know I’ve got you.”
You closed your eyes, cringing at the memory. You’d been ten, desperate to prove you weren’t just the annoying little sister of his best friend. You’d failed miserably, but Peter hadn’t laughed at you. Well, at least, not until after he made sure you were fine.
"Oh my god," you muttered, cringing at the thought. "I was a mess back then."
Peter’s voice softened, but that smirk was still there. "You were adorable, though. Adorable," he teased, his voice dripping with something almost affectionate. "Especially with those rainbow bandages on your knees. I swear, I could’ve sold tickets to that disaster."
“Don’t remind me,” you muttered, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks.
“So, come on over,” he pressed. “I’ll give you a crash course. I’m talking flirting 101, kissing for dummies, the whole shebang. You can thank me later.”
You bit your lip, and for a moment, you weren’t sure if you were blushing from memory or how his words made your stomach flip.
You hesitated for a second. This was ridiculous.
"Peach, you still with me?" His voice broke through your thoughts. "What's your decision?"
But you sighed, giving in. “Alright,” you said before you could stop yourself. “Fine. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
“Good girl,” Peter purred into the phone, and you froze. His voice sent a shock through your system that left you breathless. Suddenly, the whole flirting crash course didn’t feel like a joke anymore.
You knew he was messing with you, but it didn’t stop your skin from flushing.
You stared at your phone, wondering what you’d just gotten yourself into.
Peter Parker was going to help you with your love life. No big deal, right?
You weren’t that kid anymore. You definitely didn’t have a crush on Peter Parker.
“Don’t give me that look,” you glared at your stuffed animal as it silently judged you with its big brown eyes. “I don’t have a crush on him anymore.”
That’s what you told yourself, anyway.
Mostly.
Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed!
Tags: @ficcharsimp
If you'd like to be added to my taglist
Much love x
- Maeve
#peter parker#peter parker x reader#peter parker x you#peter parker fanfiction#peter parker x y/n#peter parker oneshot#peter parker imagine#peter parker fluff#tasm peter parker#tasm!peter x reader#tasm peter parker imagine#tasm peter x you#tasm peter x reader#tasm peter parker fanfiction#tasm spiderman#tasm fluff#tasm peter parker fluff#the amazing spider man#tasm!spiderman#spiderman#spiderman x reader#andrew garfield spiderman x reader#spiderman x you#tasm peter parker x y/n
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the things we left unspoken
pairing: george x fem!reader
word count: 1.4k
warning(s): angst, breakups, substance abuse
desc: wrote this years ago and never published it and then went through one of the most horribly confusing and heart-rending breakups ever! there’s not a whole ton of my old fic writer friends are still here so this is going to hit a new audience if there is still a weasley twins audience on here -- hi, i’m erica, i wrote obsessively for the weasley twins years back. sometimes i still do, for my own enjoyment. though this one hurts and george sucks. i don’t normally do that because i’m in love with him but this is a bit different. sorry
Age 23, Present Day
“No... How dare you come here and tell me this now?”
George feels his chest constrict a bit; his breathing is heavy, as if he’s just run a marathon, which he certainly feels like. It has taken him every bit of his strength to not come to your doorstep and admit to something he should have years ago. He’s absolutely bloody exhausted from fighting an internal battle with himself for this long.
In all of your years aside one another, he’d never quite seen you so angry as this. Your mouth, otherwise normally twisted into some lopsided smile, is now in a thin, firm line. Your jaw is tensed, and he knows from all of those evenings next to you in bed that you’re certainly clenching your teeth because of the stress you surely are feeling from him showing up unannounced. He wishes not to know that. Or actually, if he’s being honest, he wishes that he still spent that time with you in bed, and instead of grinding your teeth together, you’d giggle open-mouthed as he’d press ticklish kisses to the space between your collarbones. Your eyes are ocean blue and stormy and grey at the same time, and he doesn’t quite relish the idea of mustering up any strength he has left to whether the ups and downs of the impending tide.
Though you’re standing your ground, he sees your lip wobble just a smidge and it sends daggers straight through his heart. He swore that day, the day when everything had blown up, that he would never, ever make you cry again. It was the day he thought would be the worst of his life. How painfully wrong he was. Your voice is wobbly now, too. "You had no right to come here and say these things.”
You’re right, of course. He knows that. He doesn’t have any right. He’d lost that privilege the evening you’d taken every stolen glance, every evening kiss, every morning after and laid them out in front of you both, tangled in the web of your own vulnerability. He’d lost any and all privileges when it came to you, when he’d turned everything down, pretending that he didn’t feel exactly the same way you did, pretending it wasn’t what it truly was. Pretending he didn’t love you. He’s so stupid, wasn’t he? Though of course, he’d only rejected them because he thought he’d be protecting you.
There’s nothing he could say now to make things better. Shit. He’s cursing himself upright and backwards; he should’ve just kept his bloody mouth shut like Ron had said.
“I know I have no right,” George starts, and he’s surprised himself with how many emotions are jam packed into those six words. He suddenly feels as though something rather sharp has become lodged in his chest. He places his hands into his pockets and looks up wearily to meet your gaze. Your eyes are still grey, but softened now, as if the storm has drifted out to sea. For a very fleeting moment, he sees traces of that girl from years ago, the one who would run up stealthily to the boys dormitory and hide in his four poster with the curtains drawn until he arrived, quiet so as not to disturb his roommates, with a grin so large and mischievous it could’ve cured him of every anxious thought he ever had. He considers your vulnerability, the traces of what had been, and wants to lean in and kiss you if the moral compass in his head wasn’t screaming at him to not do so right this very moment. Just as well, he thinks, because that fleeting moment in your eyes had disappears as quickly as it had arrived. You’re backing away now, into your front doorway.
He wants to search each and every book all the Wizarding libraries had to offer, because there has to be a spell to turn back time without necessarily meddling with it, right? He can’t stand the idea of using a time turner and possibly fucking up more than he already has.
But if he could turn back time without any consequences, he’d go right back to that night, no questions asked, no time to ponder, and he’d tell you that he loves you.
He’d go right back to when you stood across from him in the rain and told him that you fell for him, even though you promised not too, because what you two were doing was something with no strings attached. You’d both agreed to it, from that first moment he’d kissed you so furiously on the abandoned Quidditch pitch. You never meant to fall for him. You really hadn’t. But you couldn’t help it. And George knew it, too. He’d told himself when you two started this whole thing that someone was bound to get hurt in the end, but he hadn’t been thinking straight then, had he? He was distracted by the heat of your lips exploring his body, by the way your hands always got tangled in his hair and left it messy looking, by the way you’d steal glances at him from across rooms, and from the intense sensual energy you two exchanged in those glances, noting that only you two knew what was going on behind closed doors.
He’d go back to that moment and tell you that he loved you too, and he didn’t care what people thought, because he’s loved you for years, now. He’d loved you ever since that one night when you two were lying in bed and he’d been playing with your hair, and he was joking and going on about something about the test products for the shop, and you continued to trace your finger along his biceps, and casually let it slip how proud you were of him.
You two had agreed that feelings wouldn’t be involved, and yet feelings seemed to be what kept you both from ending things. Until that one night in the rain.
He’d tell you that he didn’t care how you two started, tangled up in bed sheets and one another’s limbs without commitment to one another. All he cares about is how you two end, where commitment is all he bloody wants to give you now.
But he can’t. He can’t go back in time -- not without dire consequences.
There’s a type of yearning in your eyes. He was used to you longing -- for five more minutes, for one more kiss, for a tighter embrace. The truth was, he longed for all of those thing too. He still does.
But this is a different type. This is a type of yearning he can’t quite get on board with, but he knows he has too. If he loves you, truly loves you, he has too. He can practically hear your voice in his head, though your lips aren’t moving. I’m trying to move on, George, and you’re not letting me.
“I’m sorry.. I just needed you to know.” He manages to say shakily. And he tests fate and takes five more seconds, just five more, to memorize you -- the curve of your jaw, the colours in your hair, the intensity of your gaze, because he doesn’t want to forget. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to look at you like this again.
Another dagger to his heart, he lets his gaze drop and turns around before he can’t stop himself from running toward you and kissing you anyway. He doesn’t turn back; he can’t face the girl who’s heart he’s broken once, twice. He can’t bear to do it again. He hears the door shut and stops dead in his tracks, closes his eyes and lets the tears escape them easily. His feet are stuck on the cobblestone street; he can’t leave. But it’s too damn late now.
He never meant for it to get this far, had he? Neither of you had.
Pride is such a stupid thing, and he’s cursed himself for letting it be of higher importance than you. You were the only thing that mattered -- then, and now.
His evening in his flat he shared with Fred above the shop is filled with bottomless drinks until he can’t see straight, and long gazes out of the rain-covered window panes as he tests prototypes for new items. Drunk on anger, and heartbreak, and confusion, he speaks aloud to nobody, if only to remind himself that this pain he feels is real, bona fide, as the crack in his heart draws larger and deeper.
“I'll always fucking love you.”
#george weasley#fred weasley#weasley twins#george weasley fanfic#george weasley fanfiction#fred and george weasley#weasley twins imagine#weasley twins imagines#weasley twins fanfic#weasley twins fanfiction#george weasley x reader#george weasley reader insert#george weasley x fem!reader#george weasley oneshot#george weasley imagine#george weasley imagines#george weasley x you
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Unplanned
George Russell x fem!reader
Summary: High school sweethearts having the best time of their life, when everything seems so perfect. But sometimes, things don’t go as we plan them.
Warnings: angst, unwanted pregnancy, some curse words, a bit of sadness (but it gets better, I promise!)
A/N: I had a dream earlier this week, so it’s based on it. I don’t know how I feel about it (I read it nearly ten times, it’s fine, I guess.), personally I don’t think that George would act like he did in the beginning of this fic, so take it as a part of the plot. I have some ideas for possible part two, but who knows if I make it happen.
Please don’t use my writings without my permission! Pictures found on Pinterest.
———
Young and naive love, that’s all they’ve always said when they saw you and George intertwined with each other every time you walk through the paddock. Meeting at high school, you knew he was the one, and his thing about racing, it was something that attracted you even more.
You always loved to ruffle his hair before the driver’s parade, just to make him grumpy, because he spent so much time fixing his wave of golden brown locks. The way he could make you smile, his warm embrace giving you peace and comfort, the days you enjoyed in the countryside with your families because your parents simply knew each other.
It was perfect.
Until it wasn’t.
George’s move to F1 was sure, his dreams coming true, he couldn’t be more happy and motivated to push himself to the limits more. On the other hand, you just found out the horrible thing.
Walking through the paddock in Brazil, you fought the nausea, as you held onto George’s hand. You tried to tell him, but you were interrupted by someone or something every time. He noticed your strange behaviour, your pale face.
“Are you well, love?” He suddenly stopped to get a better look at you, leaning down closer to you.
This was your only chance to say it. “George, I’m pregnant.”
Your whispered words nearly gave him a heart attack.
“You’re- what?”
“You heard me. I don’t want to yell it here.” Your hand went to his cheek, the warmth of his skin seeping into your palm, bringing you comfort for your nerves.
George just stood there, his eyes wide with shock and disbelief. He grabbed your hand only to push it from his face away.
“We’re gonna talk about this later. I need to focus on the race.”
Your heart broke in your chest. Yeah, you thought just for a moment that he would be happy. But it was far from ideal.
———
George was pacing around the hotel room, while you sat on the edge of the bed, fiddling with your fingers.
“How could it happen? We were so careful, you on the pill and we were using protection.. how?”
“That time in the summer, when I was sick and taking antibiotics, that night on the yacht, when we weren’t sober..”
“Holy shit…”
“George, look, I know it’s not easy, it’s not perfect timing right now, but we can do it.”
“Are you crazy? We’re twenty. You can’t be serious about this.”
“What? So you want to give it up? Get rid of it?”
George pinched the bridge of his nose, getting frustrated and hopeless.
“I can’t take care of the baby now. I’m gonna drive in F1 next season, it’s a big thing for me and I’m not ready to be a father. I don’t have an energy for the act of loving family.”
That was enough for you to bring you to the tears. Your hand went down at your stomach, sign of protective love for the small bundle growing inside you.
George hasn’t single clue what to do in that moment. He just stared into the wall, his mind blank, feeling like his world just shattered.
“I’m sorry I can’t fit into your image of fairytale life.”
And with that he walked out of the hotel room.
Also it was a very last moment he saw you for a very very long time…
———
“George and babies! What a cute sight!”
“He should be a dad! Baby suits him!”
“Make him a daddy already!”
“Oh, what a father figure!”
You did a great job for those past six years to be away from media and spotlight. After that day you saw George last, you never looked back. Maybe it was selfish. But his opinion on the situation was clear. He didn’t want a baby.
“Mom, I said that I have to pee. Are you listening to me?”
The voice of your son William interrupted your thoughts, while you were scrolling through your instagram for the first time in the past years. Brushing your annoyance by those comments aside, you looked at Will with soft smile.
“I’m sorry sweetheart. I’ll wait here for you, just go to the restrooms there.” You pointed to the direction and Will just rushed there.
When he was about four years old, he came across the idea of karting. You were strictly against it, but after his teacher in the kindergarten was done with his ultimate rant about formula and racing, you just took him to the first lesson and that was a start. Yeah, of course you were scared, not much about George possibly finding out, spotting you, but about Will’s safety. But you cannot expect someone with strong racing genes to be interested in being a scientist.
While you were waiting for your son to come back, you haven’t noticed the buzz around the circuit, signalling the famous person appearing around. You grabbed small helmet and looked at it with soft smile, brushing your thumb over it.
“Mom! You need to see this! Mom! C’mon!”
Will was calling you from the small group of kids, his voice full of excitement and joy. You raised your brows with amused smile, when he was excited about something, he just couldn’t brush it off.
As you took a few steps closer to him, you were curious about what was everybody so ecstatic about.
“That’s George Russell, mom!”
At that name your blood ran cold. Oh no.
“Will, how do you know him?”
“Jeez mom, everybody around knows him! He used to race here as a kid. He’s cool!”
Well, it was inevitable.
Her eyes carefully found George, seeing him interacting with the youngsters. He looked good, more mature and composed. Also his hairstyle was different, giving him a manly touch. Wrinkles around his eyes were still the same, but more apparent, when he smiled. And his eyes.. god, they were the same mesmerising blue colour.
Will left her standing there, getting through the small crowd of kids, to get his signature from him.
“Mr. Russell? George. Can you please sign this? You’re my inspiration.”
His small teeth appearing in grin as he gave George his cap. George’s eyes fell onto him, smiling cheerfully as he signed the cap.
“Just call me George, I’m not much formal person, when it comes to kids. I want to be friendly, because I know how exciting is to meet your idol.”
William’s eyes were glowing with happiness as he held the now signed cap.
“You’re amazing! Thank you.”
George smiled at the boy, watching him running to his mom. It was strange, because he looked familiar. His smile faded as he saw you, looking down at the boy with proud smile.
“Mom! I’m so happy, look!”
Will was excited, nearly jumping on the spot from it.
“I never saw you this happy. Guess it was worth it.” You smiled at him, ruffling his hair.
Without another look at George, you walked to prepare Will for karting session. You thought that he hasn’t noticed you.
George stood afar, watching the kids getting ready, but giving his main attention to you and your son. Will was already giving you hard time with his rolling eyes, sighs and “of course, mom”. While you wore your worried face, furrowing brows there and there, kissing him on his forehead and then fastening his small helmet securely.
When the session started, you moved to the sidelines, watching the circuit with heavy heart and tightness in chest.
“He’s a natural talent, I must say.”
The well known deep voice made you froze in place, your palms sweaty and your throat dry. Carefully, you turned to look at George.
“He is. I can’t keep him calm for a moment straight.”
Trying to hold your voice steady, you looked back at the track. George took a place beside her, doing the same.
“It’s been a long time.”
The ridiculous situation made you chuckle.
“I don’t even know what to say.”
“Yeah, me too.”
The silence between you was thick as hell. Both of you had your own reels of thoughts in your minds.
“I often thought about meeting you again one day. What would I say to you. And I’m saying I’m sorry.”
You lifted your gaze at him, feeling surprised but somehow deeply satisfied.
“It’s okay.”
“It’s not. I was a total jerk back then. I should’ve acted more like an adult, I hurt you.”
The pain of the past years hit you like a train, while you just nodded.
“It’s strange seeing you happy now. You’re a caring mom, from what I saw. I guess the father must be proud too.”
That was the moment you snorted a little, making him confused.
“Look, George… I… I’m sorry too. We were young and it was a little selfish from me to want you to take responsibility.”
“We should’ve talk about it more that day. It’s one of the few things I regret in my life.”
“Well… I’m sorry that I disappeared. But I was so sad, hurt and scared, that I was sure that I need to do things alone. And I did a damn good job.”
George frowned a little, turning his head to look at you.
“William is six years old by the way.”
You said with sigh, locking your eyes with his. At first he didn’t understand. Then, it clicked in his brain. Pointing to track and gasping in shock, his eyes went wide. You just nodded.
Silence was deafening, while George collapsed at the nearby bench, sitting there speechless.
“William? You named him William?”
You took a seat beside him with soft hum.
“Holy fuck. I’m so shocked.”
“I’m sorry. You would find out sooner or later. And now I’ll be a fool. Fooling you, my parents, your parents, but mostly Will. I told him that his father and I broke up before his birth. He didn’t question it.”
George shook violently, running his hands through his hair.
“You kept this for yourself for many years. You kept the baby. Oh my god.. I missed so much. Six years.”
“I loved you and it hurt, I hadn’t had the heart to get an abortion. And I don’t regret that decision.”
He took your hand in his, the distant warmth of his touch seeping into your skin, making you smile.
“I want to be present in his life. I want to get to know him, to give him everything I could. I want to be a father I should’ve been.”
Your smile grew wide, tears glistening in your eyes.
“Sure, but it’ll take time. I need to reveal it to him carefully. I might be on the black list for a while, but he’d be over the moon, that George Russell is his dad.”
George let out a soft laugh, his voice shaky.
“I’ll take any time in the world. I’ll make it worth it. I won’t disappoint him. I won’t disappoint you.”
#f1#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#f1 x you#fiction#formula 1#george russel x reader#george russell#george russell x you#george russell oneshot#george russell x reader#george russell imagine#x reader#gr63 x you#gr63 x reader#gr63 fic#gr63#formula one#mercedes amg f1#george russel imagine#oneshot#f1 x female reader#my fic#love#george russell x female reader
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sooo I was in the shower listening to dua lipa and got this idea. it could follow the kiss probably, but in short: oliver and lou had a fling but fought around november, they’ve been away since then and oliver traveled across the country, lou gets a call around the week he’s back in l.a.
The book wasn’t bad, not at all, but Lou was regretting the spur of the moment purchase of a self-help book. He tried to concentrate, he really did, but his mind kept drifting away to the same reason he bought the book in the first place.
He reached for his phone, about to log onto his Instagram, until he got a call incoming.
He was calling.
Lou cursed under his breath, Why haven’t I blocked his number yet? he thought
Because you still miss it.
Despite the way his body was screaming at him not to answer, he swiped green and put the phone on speaker, the book in his hands as he tried to get back to it.
“Hi”
He rolled his eyes, “And why the fuck are you calling now?”
Lou knew he sounded hostile, But what more could you ask when the last time they talked it was through an unresolved fight? When the asshole didn’t admit he had been in the wrong, when he didn’t want to admit that this pattern was damaging for both of them.
“Well nice to hear from you too Lou, I’m doing good, thanks”
There was no way he was going to concentrate on the damn book if he kept hearing that stupid voice. Lou threw the book on the bed and laid flat on it, feeling the softness of the duvet.
“Oliver I’m not in the mood to entertain whatever this is, What do you want?”
He heard a sigh and something else he couldn’t pick up on, but it didn’t matter to him.
It wasn’t supposed to matter.
“Okay, uh, Lou I was calling to apologize, like actually apologize”
Lou was baffled “And you wanna do this over the phone?”
Oliver scoffed “Hey at least I want to talk, you're the one who cut contact with me”
He ran his hands through his hair, this guy was making him crazy.
It’s true that Lou cut contact with Oliver after their fight, he thought it was the logical step. Who cares if they were sleeping together? Who cares if they’d spent months of their lives, an entire summer, learning all their weak spots and how their bodies moved? Who cares if Lou had ultimately caught feelings for somebody he knew was never going to reciprocate them?
“Yeah, because I thought I could trust you”
There was a silence a little too long, and Lou thought he had hung up.
“I’m sorry, okay? I-I know it was shitty of me to say all those things to you, and, I understand now you were struggling so much it’s just… I’m really sorry Lou”
He bit his lip, his eyes wide shut “You know what’s so fucked up about this?... I had to show you all the things they were saying about me so that you could believe it, a-and you knew about it”
“I didn’t know all of it Lou, I just—”
“You just what? Knew all your co stars were being harassed and did nothing? I get it, it’s not your job to defend me, but I thought that we… that I could be…” Lou sighed, feeling his eyes burn as he fluttered them open “I thought that the fact that we’d been fucking meant something to you”
He heard a hitch in Oliver’s breath and a muttered “Of course it meant something Lou, for fucks’ sake”
“Then why… forget it, I’ll hang up”
“No! Please, Lou, bloody hell you’re like a mule sometimes” he sounded exasperated, like Lou was the most stubborn person he’d ever met.
Lou blinked “That is not making it any harder for me to hang up, jerk”
He heard a deep breath “Look, after we ended things I did something… I traveled”
Lou frowned “Like abroad? I mean, good for you if that’s—”
“No, not fucking abroad, I… went across states on my van”
Now Lou was confused, a surprised laugh escaped him “You what?”
He could see it though. The mental image of Oliver travelling across the country with a car, his camera and a dream made him smile, which quickly turned into a frown as he realized what he was doing.
“Yeah, I don't know, I just… I wanted to be in with my thoughts for a while” any other day Lou would've rolled his eyes at the phrasing, but right now he was intrigued “And I thought that traveling on a van would be good a-and it was… and so I had time to think, about us”
Lou sat up on his bed, looking intensely at his phone “And?” he asked, elongating the word.
He heard a nervous chuckle “God, I miss you, I miss… this, and I know I was an arse there's no doubt about that, but it's just… I'm really sorry”
Lou clenched his hand around his shirt. It was all so painful still, avoiding Oliver for over a month only helped to bury his feelings, but it was like burying them in sand. And now the ocean was bringing it back to the surface.
“Lou, you there?”
“Y-yeah it's just… shit, I miss you too”
He was a weak man, there's no other explanation for what he was doing.
Lou knew Oliver was smiling on the other side, he could just feel the corners of his lips curling up and his teeth showing through the phone call. And it was making him feel things.
Things he hadn't allowed himself to feel for weeks.
“If you wanted, maybe we could meet up one day, and have a better conversation than this” Lou nodded, even though Oliver could not see his face.
“Okay, sure”
He heard Oliver exhale deeply, like he had finally found a bit of peace after all this time. Lou was envious of that.
“Lou?”
He hummed as a reply, loud enough for him to hear, as he laid back on his bed. His cheek resting on the heel of his hand.
“Don’t you miss it sometimes?”
He frowned, looking intently at his phone “Miss what?”
“My hands on your body”
He heard the record scratch in his brain, feeling a little… offended? Conflicted? Aroused?
Aroused was definitely in there, but his pride was stronger at that moment.
“Oliver are you serious—” he stopped when heard a groan that made him grip at the bed “What are you– Oliver”
“I’m not really doing anything, just… reminiscing” he pulled his reading glasses up to his head and covered his face with his hands when he heard that voice, the one Oliver did whenever he wanted to get something from him.
Which always ended up being related to his dick somehow.
Lou pushed the heels of his hands to his eyes, shaking his head at the ideas that were forming in it, “You cannot just… damn it Oliver, where are you even?”
Oliver chuckled, now he really wanted to punch him “I’m seated and safe if that answers your question”
“It really does not” he threw a short laugh, letting his hands rest on his belly “... What are you wearing?”
He was just a man in the end, a weak one, but a man nonetheless.
Oliver's soft laugh felt like music to his ears “Just, a simple shirt and sweatpants… nothing under if you were asking yourself that”
“I was not, thank you very much” he sighed, his hands finding their way under his shirt, caressing his happy trail “I do miss it”
“W-what?”
“I… I miss your hands on me, I miss your body and the way you used to say my name, Oli”
He hasn't called him like that in a long time.
“Fuck, Lou… I miss all of that too, I-I really miss all of you it's… fuckin' hell” he heard a hitch in Oliver's voice, and now Lou was definitely wondering what was going on on the other side of the line.
So he pressed.
“Touch yourself Oli, over your clothes” he heard a whine on the other side and chuckled “Now that's another thing I missed about you, I missed hearing you desperate for it”
His own hands traveled to his crotch, pressing on it with the heels. His toes curled when he heard a moan come out of Oliver.
“Shit, I… I'm not desperate” he liked to do that, to fight Lou off and bicker until the only thing they could do to shut the other up was with their mouths.
“Sure you aren't”
“W-where are you right now, Lou?” he looked around, appreciating the fact that he was completely alone at the moment.
“My bed, obviously, I was actually trying to read a book when you called” there was a pause on the other line.
“You have your reading glasses on?” Lou adjusted the glasses and smiled, remembering the times Oliver had seen him with them on.
“Yup” he said, exaggerating the p sound.
Oliver groaned “God, you look so hot with those glasses, makes me want to…”
Lou smiled as he heard the soft sigh come out of Oliver’s mouth. The younger had a thing for Lou’s glasses and it was sort of endearing. Even though it always ended up with the older’s soul getting sucked through his dick, but it wasn’t something he couldn’t manage. Sometimes he put them on on purpose, just to tease.
Lou took off his shirt, his body heat making the layer of fabric feel uncomfortable “Touch me? Fuck me?” one of his hands went up to his chest, caressing the area.
There was a whimper, and Lou moaned softly at the sound “Fuck, yes, I just… I just want to feel you once again Lou”
“You could if you were here”
Oliver snickered, “Is that an invitation?”
Lou rolled his eyes, smiling playfully “Not unless you find a way to convince me that is a good idea” the thought of the younger coming to his place made him sigh in content, arching his back as he lowered his pyjama pants down to his thighs. His free hand went towards his hard cock, and started to jerk himself off.
“The thought of me inside of you wouldn't be convincing enough?”
He moaned loudly, throwing his head back on his pillows as his hips rolled against his hand, going a little faster at the idea “Oliver… fuck”. The images of the younger lifting his hips to get a better angle and touching every part of his body made him squirm.
“What are you doing right now Lou?” Oliver’s voice reached a new level of deep, making Lou rock his hips with an intensity that made the bed squeak.
“Fucking my fist Oli, I also… I also don't have my shirt on” he cursed under his breath when he heard a needy sound come straight out of Oliver's throat. He smiled knowingly, the fact is that the younger also had an interest in the older's chest, the dozens of bruises he left in the past were proof of it.
“God… grab your pec Lou, do it like I would, c'mon”
He did so, grabbing one of them with a tight grasp and then kneading it like dough as he stimulated his nipple.
“Oli… Oliver I don't know if your hand's still over your clothes but pull your dick out, fuck, I want to hear you”
“Lou— shit, ah, okay yeah I'm… fucking hell, I want to be there with you Lou, you have no fucking idea what I'd do to you” a wet sound made Lou's eye roll and bite his lip in a way that made him taste blood, his palm slick as it was being covered with precum.
“I know you’d love to be here Oliver… to have your head between my legs as I fill your throat with me, and you'd… you…” He couldn't find the words, the pleasure making his brain melt out of his ears.
“I’d let you fuck my throat Lou, pull my hair and keep me there until you’re satisfied”
Lou moaned loudly, blabbering a trail of yes yes yes as he stilled his hips up, pumping his cock with a firm grip.
“... Then I'd fill you up, fucking you until you come a second time, fuck, h-how would you want to take me Lou?” Oliver's breathing was agitated, he was close, so close, and Lou was too.
Lou whined “Riding you in reverse, bouncing on your cock while you leave marks up to my shoulders— holy shit, I-I’m gonna come”
“Come for me Lou, c'mon do it baby”
And the pet name does it. He arches his back so much it could snap, and comes in a guttural scream, spilling all over his hand and lower belly as his body spasms. He rides the orgasm wave as he hears the loudest moan come out of Oliver, and milks himself dry.
“Did you… did you just call me…?” his chest was heaving, body covered in a layer of sweat as he stared at the ceiling, dumbfounded.
“I did, yeah… w-was that okay?” Lou's cheeks blushed. They had never called each other by any pet names, too intimate for the kind of relationship they had.
He smiled and looked at the phone before taking his leap “Baby… I like it, would you like that I—”
“Call me like that, please” Lou heard Oliver sigh, and it only made his smile grow wider.
They were idiots.
Lou sat up, leaning towards the nightstand and opening the drawer to take the toilet paper he kept for situations like this. He cleaned himself and giggled as Oliver complained about his cum stained clothes “Hey, you could've taken them off like I did Oli”
He heard a grunt and knew the younger was probably rolling his eyes, “Maybe, but I—” a noise made Lou frown, and he turned off the speaker, pulling their phone towards his ear to listen well, without much success.
“What was that?” he asked when the younger returned to talk to him..
Oliver chuckled nervously “Oh, just… one of your neighbors”
“What?!” Lou looked out the window as he straightened up, wide-eyed “Where are you?”
“In my van” he sounded embarrassed, and Lou couldn’t really blame him, even though it all felt unbelievable to him.
“Oliver… you've been outside this whole time?”
Oliver chuckled “Can’t seem to stay away, right?”
He laughed, almost hysterically. He couldn't believe the younger had been there this whole time instead of knocking down his door. Though he supposed it made sense, in a weird way that he understood.
He doesn’t think he would’ve dared to knock on Oliver’s door had the tables been turned.
Once he’s calmed he pulled up his pants and walked out of his bedroom “Come in”
“Oh I will, baby” Lou rolled his eyes but laughed softly, shaking his head as he approached his front door.
“Shut up”
And they were back to where they left, tangled bodies and whispers in their ears.
Neither of them knows if the cycle will repeat, or if they’ve found a way to break it. All they know is that they couldn’t stay away from each other for too long.
Not even if they could help it.
read on AO3.
#louliver#louliver fic#rpf#lou ferrigno jr#oliver stark#smut#god this took so long to make#but it was worth it#bringing the fics once again
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the wolf and the hound
thank you to @proxythe for the beautiful fanart that inspired this
two broken people, trying so desperately to pretend they're whole.
“When I first came to Piltover,” She starts, “I spent weeks trying to find the right colors to match the sunsets. They’re so much more golden than in Noxus. I don’t know why.”
Vi raises a hand, seemingly shielding herself from the sun. “I didn’t see many sunsets growing up. They aren’t really visible, that deep in the Undercity. And then I went to prison.” She curls her hand into a fist. “And I couldn’t even remember what the sun looked like. I don’t want to forget it again.”
“I’m sorry.” Mel says, because she doesn’t know what else to say.
The pink haired woman turns to her, powder blue eyes staring into gold, filled with emotion. If Mel could give it a name, she would call it longing. Neither notices the other leaning in.
When they kiss its feather light, the graze of their lips pressing against each other. It’s not like they don’t know how a kiss works, but for a moment they can pretend like it’s the first time.
or; what love looks like / what good feels like
#they've been living rent free in my head for days now#my posts#arcane#arcane fanfic#vi#vi arcane#arcane vi#Mel medarda#Mel arcane#arcane mel#Mel x vi#vi x mel#viomel#melvi#the wolf and the hound#my fanfic
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ART DECO - THEODORE NOTT.
A fluff based on my fanfic, you can find it here 💟
(i also posted this on tiktok. my tiktok is the same user as here!)
Theo couldn’t help but glance at Rory from across the room, a quiet tug in his chest that he couldn’t explain. It was a strange thing, really. They had once been the best of friends, a bond as strong as the winds that swept through the hills of Italy where Theo spent his summers. Now, years later, all they shared was a quiet war—words sharp and gestures colder than any distance could make.
But in those fleeting moments, when their eyes met or when Rory’s lips curved into that rare, unguarded smile, Theo swore he could still see the ghost of the person he used to know. And just for a moment, just for that split second, everything felt right again.
“Che strano,” Theo muttered under his breath, realizing that maybe it wasn’t just the past pulling him toward Rory, but something else—something he couldn’t quite name, something that had never really disappeared.
Rory, noticing Theo’s soft gaze, smirked. “What? You finally missed me, Theo?”
A breath caught in Theo’s throat, and he almost felt like he could breathe again. “Something like that,” he replied, his voice quieter than he meant it to be.
Rory raised an eyebrow, stepping closer, her teasing smirk softening just a bit as she glanced at him. “You know,” she said, her voice quieter now, almost like a secret she wasn’t sure she should share, “you never really got over it, did you? All those years…”
Theo’s heart skipped, the weight of her words sinking in. He could feel the pull of her like gravity, everything inside him screaming for something he thought he’d buried long ago. But it was Rory—how could he ever truly bury something so complicated, so… hers?
He took a step forward, the distance between them suddenly too wide, and his voice was low, almost hesitant. “Maybe I didn’t want to.”
Rory didn’t say anything at first, just watched him with those eyes that always seemed to know too much. Then, with a small, almost imperceptible smile, she reached out, brushing her fingers against his. The touch was electric, a jolt that sent a spark of warmth through his chest. It was as if, in that moment, the years apart had melted away, and the ghost of their old friendship whispered in the silence.
“Funny,” Rory murmured, “I didn’t want to either.”
Theo stood frozen for a moment, the weight of her words hanging between them like a delicate thread. He wanted to say something—anything—but the truth was, he wasn’t sure what to feel. Every part of him had been trained to keep his distance, to stay cold, to guard his heart like it was something fragile, something worth hiding. But now, standing so close to Rory, with her fingers still lightly brushing against his, it was like all those years of silence had built to this one moment, this one breath.
“You always did know how to get under my skin,” he muttered, trying to keep the conversation light, but the intensity in his voice betrayed him. His heart raced in his chest, and he could feel the heat of her hand against his, even though it was just the faintest touch.
Rory chuckled softly, but there was something different in her eyes now—no longer playful, but… open. “Maybe that’s because you let me,” she said, her voice quieter, more thoughtful than he had expected. “You always did let me, Theo.”
He stared at her, caught between the impulse to laugh it off and the truth that was beginning to stir inside him. Was that what it had always been? That easy surrender to her presence, to the connection they shared? He wasn’t sure, but something about the way she looked at him now made it feel like everything was finally coming into focus.
“You don’t make it easy,” Theo replied, his voice a little rougher than usual, the words slipping out before he could stop them. He wasn’t sure if he was talking about the past or the present, about the rivalry or something else entirely. But Rory’s smile deepened, and in that moment, he couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, the sound surprising him. It felt good, like a release he hadn’t realized he needed.
Rory tilted her head, studying him for a moment, and Theo couldn’t help but feel like she was seeing through him, into the places he kept hidden. “You never did like things easy, did you?” she said softly, her voice tinged with something deeper, something unspoken.
Theo swallowed, feeling the pull between them growing stronger. He stepped closer, the space between them narrowing with every breath. His hand brushed her cheek, just a light touch, but enough to make the world feel like it had shifted. Rory’s gaze flickered to his lips, and for the briefest moment, he wondered if she was thinking the same thing he was—that maybe, just maybe, the lines between them weren’t as clear as they once seemed.
“I don’t think I’ve ever known anything easy with you, Rory,” Theo murmured, his thumb gently tracing the curve of her jaw. “And I don’t think I ever will.”
Her breath hitched at his words, but instead of pulling away, she leaned into his touch, her lips barely a breath away from his. “Good,” she whispered, her voice like a promise, “because neither have I.”
For a moment, neither of them moved. It was like the whole world had faded away, leaving just the two of them in this quiet, electric space between what was and what could be. And when their lips finally met—slow, tentative at first—it felt like coming home. Like all the time they’d spent apart had only been building up to this, to the soft press of lips against lips, to the fragile, beautiful moment where the past and present collided.
It wasn’t easy. It never had been. But maybe, just maybe, that was what made it worth everything.
As they pulled away, neither of them spoke immediately. The silence between them felt different now—not awkward, not heavy, but comfortable, like something had shifted in the air. Theo looked at Rory, his heart still racing, his mind struggling to catch up with what had just happened. Was this the beginning of something new, or was it just a fleeting moment in time? He wasn’t sure.
Rory, for her part, didn’t seem to have an answer either. But when she met his gaze, there was a softness there—a quiet understanding, as if they were both realizing, at the same time, that whatever had brought them together in the past was never truly gone. Maybe it had always been waiting for them, just buried beneath the layers of time and distance.
“You’re still a pain in my ass,” she muttered, breaking the silence, her smirk returning as she brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. But the edge was gone from her voice, and something deeper lingered there.
Theo chuckled, the sound low and full of warmth. “Says the girl who’s never made anything easy.”
Rory rolled her eyes but didn’t pull away when he reached for her hand again. She let him, fingers intertwining as if it was the most natural thing in the world. The tension from the years of rivalry, the hurt, the confusion—it was still there, but now, it felt like something they could face together, not as enemies, but as something more.
“So,” Rory began, her voice playful but with a hint of uncertainty, “now what?”
Theo paused, glancing down at their intertwined hands. “Now,” he said slowly, looking back up at her with a grin, “we figure it out.”
And for the first time in a long while, Theo didn’t feel like he had to have all the answers. Because with Rory standing beside him, it felt like the journey was just beginning.
#godlynott#theodore nott x reader#blaise zabini#draco malfoy#hogwarts au#lorenzo berkshire#lorenzo zurzolo#regulus black#my fic#slytherin boys#theodore nott fic#theodore nott fanfiction#theodore nott#theo nott#theo nott x reader#theodore nott imagine#mattheo riddle#tom riddle#my fic writing#go read it#yayyy#slytherin boys react#slytherin#hogwarts dr#Spotify
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Aida’s breath hitched as he pulled her closer, her heart beating faster, wild and erratic, pressed against his chest. She could feel every steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath her cheek, and for a moment, it felt like the world had narrowed down to just the two of them. She had always been able to keep her distance, to stay composed, but now? Now, with him so close, she could feel the walls she’d spent years building around herself beginning to crack. Her fingers twitched, wanting to reach up and touch him, but she kept them firmly at her sides, fighting the urge. She couldn’t let herself backslide into the person she had been in high school—the one who teased him, bullied him, who hid behind sarcasm and distance to cover up the truth. She wasn’t that girl anymore. She hadn’t been for a long time, and yet, now that he was here, the truth felt heavier, more impossible to ignore.
She lifted her chin slightly, looking up into his eyes, trying to gather the courage to speak the words that had been tangled in her chest for years. She didn’t want him to go. She didn’t want to keep pretending she was fine on her own. He was right here, and everything inside her screamed that she needed him, wanted him, and it terrified her. But she couldn’t lie to herself anymore. “You have no idea…” she started softly, her voice betraying her as it cracked. She cleared her throat, fighting the vulnerability threatening to consume her. “I needed you all this time. I still do.” Her hands clenched into fists by her sides, the words finally tumbling out, raw and unfiltered. “Back in high school, I was... I was so messed up. I pushed you away because I didn’t know how to admit what I felt, but I see it now. I wasn’t just teasing you. I was hiding from what I wanted. From what I still want.”
Aida took a deep breath, trying to steady herself as her chest tightened. Her heart raced, but she couldn’t hold back anymore. She wanted him to know, to truly understand. “I don’t want you to go, Leo. Not now. Not again.” Her eyes flickered up to meet his, and for the first time in a long time, she didn’t look away. She let herself feel everything, the heat between them, the longing, the fear—and the undeniable truth that she wasn’t ready to lose him again. The words were out there now, and she was left standing, waiting, hoping he wouldn’t disappear like he had all those years ago. "So, yes. I need you.. i fucking need you."
Leo’s grin lingered, but the cocky edge softened as he took her words in, each one hitting like a slow-burning fuse. He tilted his head, studying her, his hands sliding casually into his pockets like he wasn’t sure what to do with them otherwise. “Didn’t think I was doing all that. I was just trying to get you to admit I’m right about the towels.” His lips quirked into a smirk, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
She had his attention now, fully, and Aida would see it—the way his bravado wavered just enough to show the man he was underneath. There was no one else to compete now. No other girl hanging off his arm in the bar, no date she had brought that decided to swing, no bystander filming the fight. Just them. It wasn’t just a game anymore, not when her words hung between them like a dare he didn’t know how to take yet. His gaze searched hers, as if he was trying to memorize every detail, every fleeting expression. “Oh is this a guessing game you’re playing?” He smirked but after that, his tone shifted, his usual confidence tempered by something rawer, more vulnerable, “and right now… Do you need me?” He quizzed, reaching out to take her hand in his and pulling her body that little bit closer so she was pressed against his chest.
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Man is it just me or are a lot of TV shows nowadays are written to have big emotional episodes in scenes with very little build up.
#txt#i have some thoughts on a certain show.... maybe i'll talk about it lol#like you would think with shortened seasons these writers would try to limit the cast so that big scenes feel more earned... but they dont?#they want these big massive expansive casts with big emotional moments by episode 2 and then every episode needs that Big Scene#i noticed this especially with a lot of indie animated shows#pacing and build up is sacrificed so we can have big emotional scenes with characters we know very little#even indie shows i enjoy im just kind of like “wouldnt this feel more earned if i actually knew this character”#and sometimes it works. pluto made me cry in the first episode! but it also spent so much time with these characters because#they're an hour long each
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TANGOTEK TUESDAY!
Draw tango in a proper tango tank with plenty of stimulation and a water tube pls
he wants freedom
#tangotek tuesday#tangotek#tangotek fanart#gaia's art#i want you to know. i spent so so long on this because the moment i finished his face i was on the verge of tears#because he has activated the Cuteness Aggression and i wanted to squeeze him#so. enjoy!#gave him a repeater clock as enrichment
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THE WELL AND THE LIGHTHOUSE PMV/ANIMATIC
youtube
very very jean valjean centric because i love him and he deserves the world <3 im not sure if pmv or animatic would apply better to this, but either way, i hope you enjoy it!
#about the events i didnt include in this: i know their significance they were just cut out because i couldnt find a way to apply it#to the lyrics or there were other moments i wanted to include more#ok with that out of the way every tag past this one will be me talking about the process of making this etc etc#basically a yap fest and fandom tags#45+ hours of work wow#never made anything like this before!#im very happy with how it turned out though :3#blood sweat and tears went into this#at points i didnt think id be able to finish this but! its here! i finished it! aah!!!!!#file size was too big to post straight to tumblr had to upload it to youtube first </3#UGH IM SO PROUD OF THIS#i did a lot of vaguely talking about it but ITS HEEREEEE!!!!!! ITS DONE! FINALLY!!!!#not sure what else to say other than wow this took me a long time and it drove me half insane#les miserables#les mis#jean valjean#valjean#inspector javert#javert#fanart#les amis de l'abc#< tagging them as a group because theyre there for one frame so it counts </3 and for some reason half the fandom is on that tag. why.#sorry les amis fans youve been deceived#art#marius pontmercy#cosette fauchelevent#pmv#animatic#dont you dare let this flop. please.#i spent 2 months on this please please please please dont let it flop.
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For reasons to be expanded upon at a later date (because I love the little bits about Boothill and possible paranoia/betrayal canon gives us so very dearly HNGH) I think Boothill like... He won't let himself fall into disrepair or anything of course, but he reeeeeeeeeeally does not like letting other people poke around at his body. It's a necessary evil to him. He does whatever maintenance and repairs he can himself. He started out with a massive knowledge deficit, simply because he didn't really have any exposure to that kind of technology until he left Aeragan-Epharshal, but he's taught himself a lot since then, he worked really hard at it!
Anyway, the point being, Boothill generally isn't super trusting of people.
But I think he would come to make an exception for Himeko, since he trusts Dan Heng a lot, and Himeko is one of Dan Heng's once-in-a-lifetime dearly beloved companions.
Himeko is so unflappable, I don't think she would even bat an eye about anything he throws at her, either. Like she enters the Parlor Car one morning (she's always the first one up) and Boothill is already there, waiting for her.
"Mornin', Madam Navigator."
"Good morning, Mr. Boothill."
And despite the fact that he blatantly broke into the Express (Pom-Pom is NOT happy about this JDKSAJDSKL), Boothill tips his hat, greets her politely, and is nothing but respectful when he says he has a favor to ask of her. Except it won't stay a favor long, of course- he has every intention of paying it back.
Himeko never agrees to things blindly, but she does bring up that all the knowledge Boothill contributed during the Charmony Festival was essential to preventing the universe from being pulled into Ena's Dream. And they were able to hold onto the Jade Abacus because Boothill used Tiernan's burial relic to summon the Galaxy Rangers instead. The Astral Express owes him a debt of gratitude, and besides, he's a friend of Dan Heng's. Of course she'll try to help him.
Boothill fidgets a bit, quickly brushes off the thanks, and tells Himeko he's having a problem with error codes. He keeps getting the same one, seemingly at random times, but the darn thing has no obvious cause. Dan Heng mentioned Himeko had been the one to rebuild the Astral Express. He knows it ain't the same, but it's not like he's askin' for any major repairs or nothin'. He was wonderin' if she could just take a look, maybe offer him some insight, since she seems to be somethin' of a mechanical wonder.
So Himeko walks him back to a another car, where she goes to tinker with machines without them crowding her bedroom. It's all neatly laid out and organized, and it only takes a second for Himeko to locate some specific device with a long cord. Instead of plugging it in herself, she holds the end of it out to him, like an offer rather than a demand, and Boothill visibly relaxes a bit. He still eyes it just a little warily for a second, but he accepts and plugs it into the port on his side.
Himeko pulls up the list of all recent errors, and they really are all the same. Boothill has had multiple temperature alarms over the past couple of weeks since the Charmony Festival, and they know it's not the environment, because Penacony is mostly dreamscape and kept mild year-round. The long-forgotten natural deserts are too far away.
Boothill is staring from the corner of his one good eye, so Himeko turns the hologram to let him see what she's doing easier. They don't appear to be false alarms. His internal temperature spikes and then slowly lowers again, high enough that if it lasted it would eventually cause damage.
One option is for her to start rooting through personal data, figuring out what he was doing at the time of each code, and tracing cause and correlation.
Instead, Himeko reads out the timestamps, and asks Boothill if he minds sharing what was happening around him when it occured.
Two weeks ago: He and Dan Heng went to explore Dreamflux Reef and found a bar- nice place, good atmosphere. Woman runnin’ it was a doll. Boothill left fer not even two minutes to get them drinks (Dan Heng knows like nothin’ about liquor, Madam Navigator, can you believe this guy) and when he came back, someone had already stolen his seat and was hittin’ on Dan Heng! Dan Heng didn't even care, just shooed ‘em off. Boothill laughed and said not to let him get in his way if he wanted to meet someone. Dan Heng looked at him like he'd grown a second head. Why would he want to leave with someone else, when he came here to be with Boothill?
Twelve days ago: While laying low- er, just rustlin’ up some grub- in the Moment of Blue, Boothill passed Dan Heng with March and Caelus playin’ on the beach, buildin’ sandcastles and the like. When he passed by again almost two hours later, they were still out there, with Dan Heng pullin’ March through the water on her inner tube and Caelus hangin’ off the back of it. He swam so fast! You'd think he was part water snake or somethin’. He looked happier ‘n a cat in a sunbeam… He has a nice smile, doesn't he?
Eleven days ago: Boothill was killin’ time in Dreamflux Reef when he turned the corner down a shady alley and saw Dan Heng, surrounded by three men demandin’ “protection money.” None of ‘em stood a chance, they were all on the ground before Boothill even blinked! So cool! Boothill wants to see that spear of his closeup- Anyway, Dan Heng stepped on one of ‘em on his way out, hahaha! Boothill stepped on the same guy a second time as he hurried to catch up.
Eight days ago: Here on the Express, actually. Boothill had mentioned bein’ curious about the archives, and Dan Heng personally invited him.
(“I remember that day, I saw you in the hall.” “Was there any problem with the heating that day?” “No, none. I don't think the temperature has anything to do with these error codes. I have a different theory, keep going.” “If ya say so.”)
Boothill was fascinated by an entry on aeons, and from a single question he asked about Lan, the two of ‘em ended up talkin’ fer hours. About aeons and Paths and Emanators, Acheron and Self-Annihilators, the Sea of Nihility, Tiernan, the Nameless and the Galaxy Rangers, their burial relics and their customs. Dan Heng finally just started writin’ and editin’ the entries in real time, with Boothill pointin’ things out and tellin’ him what to add in. They were at it so late that Boothill ended up sleepin' on a couch in one of the cars.
He'd figured there had to be something to make Dan Heng chatty- he'd caught just a glimpse of it that first night they met, sittin’ at the bar in the Reverie together. He'll have to ask about the archives more often, if it gets him all revved up like that.
One week ago: After that night of energetic discussion, Dan Heng was apparently hyped up, because after he'd downed some of Himeko's coffee (“You had some too, right? What did you think of it?” “It was great, even better'n chewin’ bullets!” "Thank you! That was my newest brew, I can't wait for everyone else to try it.") he actually asked Boothill to go hunting with him. Boothill asked who their target was, and was surprised when Dan Heng pulled out photos that looked like they were from March's camera, of all things, instead of a bounty or wanted poster.
And as he sat there, studying these pictures, Dan Heng explained that he wanted to hunt down these specific memory zone memes to record them into the archives. Planets with so much memoria are a rarity, especially with the Stellaron's activity thrown into the mix, which has surely affected the local “wildlife.” He might not get another opportunity like this for a long time. And Boothill had talked last night about his extensive expertise in tracking and hunting, so he should have plenty to offer here, Dan Heng would like to learn from his experience and see how he does things!
And oh, Madam Navigator, by the time Dan Heng was done speakin', his eyes were practically sparklin'! Just lit up like the sun! Boothill could scarcely believe it! The two of them couldn't even wait another day, they set out that very morning. It had been a long, long while since Boothill had tracked someone- er, somethin’- without the intent to capture or kill. It was…actually really nice. Nostalgic, but in a good way. It might even have been his favorite day on Penacony…so…far…
Boothill trails off as a couple of realizations crash into him. All the temperature alarms he's spoken about thus far- they've all happened in the company of Dan Heng. And now that he's thinking about it, he's pretty sure even the ones he hasn't yet talked about were with him, too. Dan Heng has been responsible for all of his error codes, every. single. one.
The screen in front of Himeko suddenly refreshes to the top of the list, displaying a new notification for the current time. Alert! Core temperature above normal range.
Himeko's knowing smile is sly as a snake.
Wwwwwelp, would ya look at the time, Boothill has some errands to meet, people to run, y’know how it is, he should really get goin'-
“Oh, Mr. Boothill? About that favor.” And Boothill jolts to a stop in the doorway because fudge, he can't just leave without hearing her out. He'd given his word. He has no problem running out on someone he thinks deserves it, but Himeko really had been kind to him to try and help him out. Her voice is just as knowing as her smile, Boothill can't turn around to look at her, or else he knows he won't be able to disguise the sound of his cooling fans kicking on.
“Don't make Dan Heng wait too long, ok~?”
“Y-Yes, ma'am.”
#honkai star rail#henghill#bootheng#Himeko KNOWS abort mission abort!!!#I really love Himeko sorta looking after Boothill the same way she does her crew even if he's not one of them haha. She's so sweet with-#-Dan Heng. She really seems to adore him and wants him to be safe and happy. I think she would be so happy he's found a new friend!#She wants to help this happen!! So get to it Boothill!!!#Was yapping about this fic to Ray and she nearly fucking oneshotted me: 'It's especially funny because we've got a Vidyadhara and a cyborg-#'-they literally have all the time in the world. SHE's the one who wants to be around to see it happen akfbbsbd''#AND JUST. GOD. Himeko knowing that she won't outlive Dan Heng. She's only human. She can't compare to a Vidyadhara lifespan. So she wants-#-to make sure Dan Heng has as many people as possible. She wants to know he'll be taken care of and not be lonely even after she's gone.#Himeko wants to see this important moment in his life happen she wants to be around for it *sobbing*#I'd been wanting to write this for a long time though because for me henghill is all about the little moments. like. they talked so much-#-back and forth in 2.2. they spent so much time together. they get along shockingly well. Dan Heng could have gone almost anywhere to wait-#-for the trailblazer to wake up after defeating Sunday. And instead of anywhere else Dan Heng returned right to Boothill's side. Was still-#-hanging out with him at the Reverie's bar. Still just chattering away. The point is that these two have a strong friendship to build a-#-romance on! They enjoy each other's company! They like spending time together! And I love that! I want to see their mundane nights!!#They'd have such fun dates uweh... They go on a coffee date and miss Himeko's coffee haha#(fun story Boothill's dialogue about Himeko's coffee was originally going to be 'it was uh...an experience. ain't nothin' else like it in-#-the world.' 'thank you!' But then I read Boothill's parlor car dialogue and? it turns out he LOVES Himeko's coffee? go figure ajfldjas)#(afaik he and Dan Heng are literally the only ones. how cute is that haha)#hsr#boothill#himeko#dan heng#hsr boothill#hsr himeko#hsr dan heng#my fics
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every time i see bakudeku compared to k/ance (now specifically in terms of them getting shafted in the ending and/or accused of queerbaiting) i take psychic damage
#i am NOT tagging this one mainly because i don't want to bring down the fucking horde of klance shippers on my head#i was there. i was part of the fandom. and i STILL don't understand how or why THAT was the massive ship#y'all are clinging to something that stopped being relevant after SEASON ONE in an EIGHT SEASON LONG show#lance spent the ENTIRE series crushing on (and eventually fully falling in love with) allura#allura who slowly started to reciprocate. allurance CONTINUED to get ship tease EVEN as she fell for lotor#literally 85% of the significant klance moments/interactions were in the first season#i don't know how y'all kept clinging to a ship that gave you absolute scraps#as for keith. again i watched voltron myself. i even BRIEFLY shipped klance when the show first came out#because again - season one was GREAT for them. a strong foundation for a ship! but that foundation was NEVER built upon#then season two hit and i was quite happy to pivot to sheith which is where i remained until the ending#keith spent the entire show very devoted to shiro. you don't have to read it romantically but it's a hell of a lot easier to do so#than ever imagining he'd feel that way about lance after he just. basically stopped caring about him post s1#meanwhile lance slowly let go of the (one-sided) rivalry and just focused more and more on allura#comparing klance and bakudeku feels like a fucking crime to me.#klance was a once-promising rivals to lovers arc that IMMEDIATELY fizzled out into them being kind of friends.#but specifically The Friends Who Never Hang Out kind. while both parties were lowkey obsessed with someone else.#this ship was NEVER going to happen when it became clear around s4-5 that the writers DID NOT CARE about it at all#(and they went on record saying they were surprised it was so huge!)#meanwhile until the trashfire epilogue bakudeku spent the ENTIRE series obsessed with each other#they were friends to enemies to rivals to friends with everyone HOPING they'd get a canonical 'to lovers' tacked on#they got the MOST development in the series individually and as a pair (platonically or otherwise)#THIS ship had legs and was only denied greatness because it was struck with the typical shounen homophobia curse#PLEASE stop comparing one of the greatest arcs and relationships (even if it stumbled at the finish line)...#that i have EVER seen... to That. to fucking... two bros chilling in a hot tub (five feet apart cause they're not gay)#(except keith MIGHT be. just not for lance. sorry not sorry.)
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Galilea’s hands trembled faintly as she set the spoon back into her bowl of porridge, her appetite gone. The conversation outside the door was impossible to ignore; Mrs. Lindly’s cries carried through the thin walls like the wailing of a ghost. Galilea didn’t want to listen, but every word struck a nerve. October sat across from her, his spoon hovering over his bowl, as though he were too focused on the muffled shouting to continue eating. “He’s handling it,” October said, his tone trying for reassurance but missing the mark. Galilea nodded, though her heart wasn’t settled. Rhys had told them to wait, but that didn’t stop the unease that prickled along her skin. She was no stranger to the hostility of humans. She’d seen it before, countless times—grief turning to anger, anger turning to blame. But she hadn’t expected it here, not like this. When the door burst open and Mrs. Lindly stormed in, Galilea froze mid-breath. The older woman’s face was red and tear-streaked, her grief tangible and raw, and for a split second, Galilea could see the woman’s pain as clearly as if it were her own. But then the woman’s hand rose, and that fleeting moment of sympathy was swallowed by the shock of the threat. A slap. The intent wasn’t lost on Galilea, Mrs. Lindly’s outrage wasn’t just for the loss of her husband. It was for what Galilea was a magical being, a nymph, not human. An outsider. The thought stung more than the slap might have. Rhys’s hand shot out like lightning, intercepting Mrs. Lindly’s wrist before it could connect. Galilea’s eyes darted to him, wide with surprise. His voice was firm but calm as he addressed the grieving woman by name, the formality dropping like a cloak cast aside. Somehow, he managed to diffuse her rage, turning her ire into a collapse of sorrow against his chest. Galilea stood motionless, her heart pounding. She exchanged a glance with October, who raised his brows but said nothing. She wasn’t sure if the pounding in her chest was fear or relief. Maybe both. When Rhys guided Mrs. Lindly out, Galilea finally let out the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “Thank you,” she murmured to him before he stepped out, her voice quiet but genuine. “Be safe.” It wasn’t that he needed her concern. Humans were strong, far stronger than most gave them credit for. In many ways, their physical strength rivaled even the elves, the gods’ alleged favored ones. But strength wasn’t everything. Humans carried their strength like a double-edged sword, powerful but often reckless. But Rhys…Rhys carried so much more than physical strength. After the door closed, Galilea returned to her seat, though her porridge had long gone cold. She stared at the bowl, twirling the spoon idly. “Did you expect that?” October broke the silence, leaning back in his chair. “The slap? I didn’t.” She replied. “No,” she admitted softly. “Not exactly.” She paused, her fingers tightening slightly on the spoon. “But it makes sense, doesn’t it? We’re not human. We are convenient scapegoats.” She tried to keep the bitterness from her voice, but it lingered at the edges like an unwelcome guest. “Convenient or not, Rhys didn’t seem like he was going to let them get away with it,” October pointed out. “I know.” And she did. Rhys’s words and actions had proven as much. Still, the lingering doubt wouldn’t fully settle. “But how long can he keep this up? His people are desperate, and desperation doesn’t always listen to reason.” October tilted his head, considering her words. Then he sighed. “We should find a cure soon. It feels like we’ve overstayed our welcome.” Galilea sighed as well, her shoulders slumping. “I agree.” She rubbed her temples. “I trust Rhys, but he already has enough to handle. If the soldiers patrolling are here for more than the illness. If they’re here because of whispers of a rebellion, then we might be making things worse just by being here.” The thought weighed heavily on her, but before she could dwell on it further, they spent the rest of the day, mixing and trying different potions on the remainder of the worms.
Rhys stepped inside, his presence filling the room. Despite herself, Galilea felt a small smile tug at her lips. Something was reassuring about him, even when he was weary and carrying the burdens of his people on his shoulders. Both nymphs listened intently to Rhys's words. Galilea inclined her head, her gratitude evident. “Thank you, Rhys,” she said softly. October echoed her sentiments with a nod, his usual humor absent in the serious moment. When Rhys asked about his blood, Galilea hesitated for only a moment before nodding. “Yes,” she said, rising to her feet. “I’ll prepare the table.” She moved with practiced ease, clearing the surface and then sanitizing it with tools October had brought from their kingdom. She held the items carefully, her movements methodical. Though healing nymphs didn’t use incantations, their tools often carried natural magic of their own, a blend of their craft and their connection to nature. Once the table was ready, Galilea turned to Rhys. “Come sit,” she said gently. Galilea pulled out a chair and rolled up his sleeve. Revealing more muscle than she cared to admit, she was sure even October was gawking. Refocusing herself Galilea tied an elastic string around his arm, securing it with care. “This will only take a moment,” she promised. Her hands were steady as she drew the blood, filling two tinctures with the crimson liquid. The silence between them was heavy, but not uncomfortable. Once she finished, she set the vials aside and looked up at him. “Your parents,” she began, her voice soft but thoughtful. “They must have done an incredible job raising you.” She smiled faintly. “Considering the lengths you’ve gone to for your sister, for your people. It’s admirable.” She paused for a moment, pensive. “It’s more than that,” Galilea broke the silence, her tone gentle. “Not everyone takes what they’re taught and turns it into action. Not everyone would go this far.” She rose to her feet, gathering the vials of blood. “You should rest,” she said again, her voice kind but insistent. “You’ll need to rest for a couple of hours and eat something,” she added. “I’ll make food for all of us. What’s your favorite meal?” Galilea figured it was the best she could repay him.
Rhys watched as Galilea spoke with Carina, getting down on her level and complemented the way Carina mispronounced her name. Something about the brief interaction moved something in Rhys, made him long for things he did not have for himself, that he only had vicariously through others. His feelings about Galilea, his attraction to her beauty, but also the tender and giving person underneath seemed to ache in his chest. An ache that told him they were feelings never to be acted on. The nature of what they were and the weight of his own duties would force them apart once the need for her help had come to its end. The desire for a life with her seemed to bloom as merely a fantasy, but he could picture it so clearly. He could see her in his life as more than just this helper in a dark time, but he needed to ground himself. There were heavier tasks at hand that more immediately demanded him than his own desires for Galilea. He sat across from her as she began to eat the porridge he set in front of her once Carina had scampered off. "You don't need to thank me." he said with with a chuckle, "You are doing a great deal for me. I can make you a meal." He said simply and smiled at her. Something about this could have felt domestic, but the topic soon shifted to how October had not returned. “He hasn’t-“ Rhys was about to voice some concern, but October walked through the door and his appearance made obvious how his night had been, “I was not as worried about him.” Rhys stated. He did not bear the close relationship with October, but an amused expression appeared on his face all the same for his friend Aimon. He chuckled when October called it an intellectually stimulating evening, “That’s what they’re calling it now?” But it was no question only continuing the teasing Galilea had started. And a pleasant reprieve it was from the heaviness of all other topics of conversation. At least some laughter could be found in dark times. He looked at the pomegranate juice October had placed in front of him and his eyes moved up to Galilea when October then mentioned it being her favorite, something Rhys would certainly commit to memory. "Good to know." He told October and sipped from the cup, "And thank you." He added and set the cup back down. The conversation shifted to matters about the disease and what they needed to do that day, but that was when there came a loud banging at the door and the angry voice of Mrs. Lindly. Her shouts would certainly draw attention and though she did not state that there were nymphs in the residence her words were enough to reveal that there were not humans. And Rhys did not need that attention. Rhys hated the fear and worry, sadness that crept into Galilea's features, the way she apologized repeatedly. It bothered him, nagged at him in a way that made him want to put an end to anyone that dare try to harm her. Especially when her sole purpose in this world was to heal, to help. "Do not apologize." He told her and rose to his feet, "I'll handle this." Rhys took the tinctures, “Both of you wait here.” He told them and tucked the bottles into his pockets and opened the door the woman was banging on and crowded himself out the door, shutting it behind himself. Her fists came down against his chest, her grief evident in his fear stained face, “Monsters!” She cried. Rhys grabbed her wrists tk stop her from continuing to beat his chest though her blows were weak it was doing no good in getting through to her to allow her to continue, “Mrs. Lindly, please.” He held her wrists firmly in his grip, looking down at the older woman who sobbed, “lower your voice!” He hissed at her, “Do you not trust me?” He asked her, his gaze confident as it bore into hers, “do you believe I would purposefully put your husband in danger? I believed you knew me better than that.”
He turned it around as a personal offense that she was at this door with this, but soon his voice took on a gentler tone, “I brought my friends here to help. I would not have done so to put you or yours in danger. You accepted our help.” He informed her once more that she had agreed, that she had wanted them to help her. “But he’s gone. He had been holding up until they came along.” She insisted, tears steamed down her face, her eyes and cheeks puffy and red, tear stained. The strength of her grief seemed to propel her forward and she threw open the door of Sandrina’s home, “you!” She exclaimed and took a few quick steps across the small kitchen toward Galilea and reeled her hand back. Rhys caught Mrs. Lindly by the wrist and pulled her back to face him, “Aerin,” he said Mrs. Lindly’s first name, dropping the formality he would normally regard her with. It seemed to stop her and she looked up at him, “You will not come into my sister’s home and harm my friends who have come from so far away to help you. I know the loss of your husband is devestating and untimely. I will help you through this however I can. But it is no fault of theirs that he is gone. If you are to truly take issue with anyone for it blame our king for allowing us all to suffer while he keeps himself away. They are the only ones helping us through this, them and ourselves.” He spoke calmly to her and the woman seemed to nearly crumple up. She fell agains this chest, her sobs only partially muffled by his body as hers shook with her grief. He rubbed her back reassuringly. “Take one of these.” He told her and reached into his pocket to take one of the tinctures Galilea had given him, “You are sick as well, but not as sick as he was. These should help keep you fairly healthy until a cure is made. You still have grandchildren who want you in their lives.” He told her. Mrs. Lindly took the tincture from him and drank from it. “Now come, I’ll walk you home. You can rest. And I will be by to check on you later in the evening.” He wrapped his arm around the woman’s shoulder and lead her out of the home, “I’ll be back soon.” He called back to Galilea and October. He walked Mrs. Lindly back to her home and got her settled with some tea. He left to fetch Aimon and have him pick up the body of Mr. Lindly. He knocked on the door of the shed-like home of Aimon who opened the door moments later looking disheveled, but pleased with himself, “Heard you had a good night.” Rhys said first and chuckled. Aimon beamed, proud of himself, “Looks like I have a wider net of appeal than you do, Rhys, shocking isn’t it?” Aimon teased and stepped aside for Rhys to enter the cramped space. Rhys stepped inside and crossed his arms, “whatever makes you feel better, friend.” He said and chuckled once more before he continued, “Mr. Lindly has passed. Please retrieve his body as soon as possible.” Rhys got straight to the point about his visit, but he wished to touch on the topic of Galilea and October more as well. “Also, please keep it quiet about what October and Galilea are. Mrs. Lindly accepted their help and then attempted to blame them for what they were when he husband died though he was already likely beyond help by the time they got there. We need to keep attitudes positive toward them. Though by nature of how they work I’m uncertain of how quiet we can keep it I then ask you to keep people viewing them as helping rather than harming should the topic come up." Rhys couldn't be the only one vouching for what they were doing. He needed others on his side as well and Aimon was as good a bet as any to have on his side first. "I think you should have no issue with that considering recent events." Rhys continued and quirked a brow at his friend. Aimon nodded, "Of course. I have a personal interest in this now anyway, don't I?" Aimon agreed.
The men conversed for awhile longer before Rhys left with Aimon to retrieve Mr. Lindly. He sat with the widow for awhile while Aimon removed the body and then Rhys returned home. He walked through the door and nodded at the two nymphs who had continued their work. "She is contented, comfortable, and resting." He explained and walked over to the table, "She has not stated anything else about you two. I spoke to Aimon and he will let me know if he hear's anyone voicing her sentiments from earlier. He also will help in quelling those sentiments as he can." Rhys worried that such outbursts would run them off. It was now another thing he needed to manage in order to retain their help until the issue was, hopefully, resolved. "I will do everything to keep you safe as I can. They are desperate and grief stricken and their king does not show his face to be blamed and your faces are new. But I will not allow you to fall into harms way." Rhys promised and it was a promise he felt confident he could keep. The soldiers were another issue, but from his own people? He felt confident he had their trust enough to keep them listening to him. He pulled his attention solely to Galilea now, "Do you wish to take my blood now?" he asked her and pulled the chair back from the table and sat down at it.
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