#like sir you have no right to say these things

[earth4angels]

WINTER LETTERS

 SUMMARY: you will only find true love once in a lifetime. you claim to have seen it through the craft of art, but when you met the boy who laughed at your dad's jokes and waited for you in front of history class with a bag of cherries, love was marked differently for you.    TAGS: friends to lovers, fluff, modern setting, slightly aged up characters, nerdy/popular history major jacaerys. corny, slight cliches. golden retriever boyfriend.               based on this idea  WORD COUNT: 3k

The music was loud to the point it vibrated against the wall in small rhythms, matching every beat of the sounds blasting through your record player. You hummed to the song playing, your right hand moving more delicately and intricately. A soft whine awoke you from the bubble you always created whenever you worked. In the figure of a small, one-year-old puppy sat Vermax who opened his mouth as he yawned, his nose twitching as a cute sneeze came upon him. You laughed softly, reaching down to cuddle the poor thing into your arms.

“I’m sorry buddy, mama has been mean to you huh?” you said as Vermax attempted to bite your fingers that now reached to ruffle the small ears of the golden retriever pup - his tailed waggled in annoyance. You swore you saw him frown. You feigned an offended gasp, “Oh my bad, I didn’t know the sir wanted attention.”

Vermax barked as he licked your face before resting his small head on your chest. It was a sign he wanted to stay by you. You grinned. Vermax was incredibly clingy and a needy dog, at times you thought Jacaerys - your now one-year boyfriend - influenced his behavior.

Your head tilted to the side, behind the canvas, onto the clock mounted on the wall. You clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth. “You’re late.”

As you resumed to continue painting with a now snoring puppy on your lap, your phone rang. The flutter in your stomach made you grin, forgetting the small frustration that Jacaerys had not stopped by.

Before the words slipped out of your mouth, the rapid chatter of your boyfriend rang through your ear beautifully making you chuckle.

“I’m so sorry baby!!”

You heard panting and harsh heaving as he apologized before the sound of the slamming of a door. You figured he ran to his car after class was over. You shook your head in amusement, listening to the ramble of your never-ending chatty boyfriend.

He took a deep breath, “So, I meant to finish with the class before 4 but Professor Adams wanted to give us a surprise pop quiz before the finals next week! I swear that old lady wants to murder me! Can you believe she called on me five times in a roll attempting to embarrass me? Bad for her because I know the material, but couldn’t she call on fucking Lannister?!” Jacaerys rambled. You wondered how in the world did he talk so fast without breathing for air. You did not mind; in fact, it made your day whenever Jacaerys Velaryon spoke to you.

“Jace,” you said attempting to talk but your boyfriend was not done. Your mouth twitched, stifling a very heavy laugh now.

“Anyways! I’m sorry baby! I will be there soon! I hope Vermax wasn’t too much, I swear he likes you more than he likes me. But who can blame him? You’re amazing and beautiful. Kind. Did I say beautiful?” His chatter all landed in one breath.

You laughed hard, “Jacaerys breathe!”

Jacaerys paused before he took a big breath of air, “Seven hells… sorry. I did it again.”

“Apologizing for just telling me about your day? You must be insane now,” your fingers tangled themselves into the soft fur of Vermax as you continued, “I miss you. Vermax is okay, he slept all day and ate. He’s currently on my lap sleeping once again after throwing a tantrum of not being held. You are influencing him.”

Jacaerys laughed, “I didn’t! He just loves you as much as I do,” he paused, “Actually no, I love you more than he does, don’t let those big eyes of him fool you.”

The sound of your boyfriend’s voice echoed through your body, as if swimming, the waves relaxed you, floating through the deep waves. The grin never slipped.

“Drive safely Jace,” you said, “I miss you.”

The next words that came automatically had your heart jumping out of your chest like a rubber ball. You almost, almost, wanted to scream. You composed yourself.

“I will, I’m rushing to be yours soon, I love you.”

You released a small squeak, Jacaerys smiled smugly knowing you were blushing, the red staining your cheeks that began to hurt from all the smiling you held. He prided himself on such power, he was the only one who would ever make you swoon, and he swore to be the last.

“I love you more,” you squeaked, the heat of embarrassment overcoming the flatter as you cleared your throat to be heard as normal, “See you soon.”

Jacaerys chuckled, his laugh deep, “Bye my love.”

You hummed in response, knowing if you spoke another word, it would put you as a fool. You hung up after, your hand flying to your chest where you felt the rumble of your heart beating against your chest like hard slams against a drum. Get it together, you thought.

Vermax was awake now, his blue and green eyes shining bright as they eyed you. You felt judged by his stare. Even more so when he tilted his head to the side, his tongue licking his nose before continuing with his stare.

“What are you looking at you clingy baby? Your dad is silly! If you want to find a girlfriend Vermax, don’t be like your dad, your girlfriend will bite you,” you spoke to the child on your lap who continued to stare, his eyes holding a hinge of judgment, so you claimed, “I hate your dad.” You hmphed.

Vermax barked, his eyes rolling slightly. You gasped, a pout on your lips, “You traitor,” you picked him up before placing him on your bed where he laid his head on his paws as he stared.

You checked the clock on the wall if you calculated correctly, Jacaerys would be here in 20 minutes, which meant it gave you time to shower. You grimaced when you looked down to judge your state. You were wearing an old jumper, stained with paint everywhere, your hair was pulled back, held by a big hair clip. Quite frankly, you looked like a mess, but when you painted the outfit never mattered. You knew Jacaerys would never mind the way you looked, he never did, he would always receive you with a big smile that made his glasses slide up his nose and a kiss. A kiss that left you breathless every single time.

This time, however, you needed to change, so you rushed into a quick shower and a rapid change of clothes which was your boyfriend’s frat sweater and warm sweats as the weather was getting colder. Winter was here. By the time you finished combing your hair, the door locks being unlocked was heard and suddenly barking - excited barking. You rolled your eyes, of course, Vermax would make a ruckus over Jacaerys.

You applied lotion on your hands before hands wrapped around your waist, a low rumble was enough to make your knees weak. The power of Jacaerys Velaryon. You cursed inwardly. You feigned to be angry knowing it would not last more than ten seconds.

Jacaerys sighed into your neck, “I’ve missed you today.”

You hummed in acknowledgment, tapping his hands where they lay on your stomach.

Through the mirror you saw the way Jacaerys frowned, his bangs hanging over his eyes. You stifled a laugh.

“My love?” he attempted to coddle you, his voice softer, whinier, “Babe… I’m sorry! I should have called you earlier to let you know I was going to be home late.” His hands tightened around your waist when you showed no reaction; he began to press kisses on your neck. “Please don’t be mad,” he pouted.

You giggled, your body twitching as he pressed another kiss on your neck which tickled. He exhaled a breath of relief, “Don’t do that!”

You laughed, twisting around to meet him face to face, your hands wrapped around his neck as he leaned you against the bathroom sink. “Why not? I think it’s funny.”

“Not,” he said, his eyes shining with mischief, a smile on his face as he softly stared. The feeling returned then, the feeling of wanting to scream.

You nodded your head with certainty, a serious look on your face as you tried to hide the loud beating of your heart, “Oh yes.”

His eyes shifted to something dark, he licked his lips. Jacaerys scanned you, his eyes moving to trace the details of your face, memorizing every freckle, the shape of your eyes to the faint hue of his favorite color on your cheeks. His eyes stopped on your lips that were parted. His fingers dug into the sweater you wore, a sharp intake from his nose was all it took for you to know.

Jacaerys raised his eyebrow, the motion sending you into an immediate heart attack.

“Oh yeah? So do you think it will be funny if I,” he leaned towards you, a smirk on his lips as he saw you dazedly lean in, “… do this?” You were ready. Always ready. You needed it. The substance of his love and his dedication. You closed your eyes waiting for the flesh that melted against your lips, the taste of his cherry Chapstick. Jacaerys hummed, you felt his breath giving you a whiplash. He was so close. Suddenly he chuckled.

In a flash, you opened your eyes, and you saw your boyfriend leaning against the wall, a smirk on his lips. You growled in annoyance, jumping on him. A loud ‘oof!’ was heard.

“You evil!” you exclaimed as he held the flesh under your thighs to push you against him.

Laughing he looked up at you, “What? I think it’s funny,” he recalled the same words you gave him. Your eyes flashed with jest, “I hate you,” you pouted, your fingers into his small curls. You knew if he let his hair grow, the curls would be bigger erasing the flat of his hair.

“You know they say opposites attract,” his lips in a wide grin, “because I love you.”

Your face scrunched before groaning, “Ugh.”

Jacaerys raised his head to reach you, “Gimme kiss, I missed my girl.”

Your hands laid on his cheeks, a soft smile now rested on your lips, “You saw me this morning doofus.”

He peeked an eye open, before he whined, “Gimme a kissssssss.”

The explosions erupted, as it always did every single time you kissed Jacaerys Velaryon. His lips covered yours with such fire that left a tingling feeling after. You molded into his body as he did yours, your legs wrapped around his figure as it gave access to his hands that moved to rest on your back and another into the wet strands of your hair. A groan was heard as his hands pressed you closer. You smiled.

Jacaerys softly bit into your bottom lip before he smiled into the softness of your mouth, “I love you.”

To love Jacaerys felt easy for you, it was as if breathing. You loved everything about him, he was kind, patient, loving, a family man who fought for what he believed in, and he held such fire when it came to defending his family and loved ones. Cregan Stark once told you, “An angry Jacaerys is like watching a dragon feed on a sheep.”

You remembered how you looked at the tall man, you stared at him dumbly, “Cregan what the hell? How do you even know what a dragon looks like or how they hunt?”

Cregan only shrugged as he sipped on his beer, “Look, all I’m saying Jacaerys is scary. I feel for the people that cross him, shorty got fire.”

Jacaerys was very responsible, and calculative and walked with such confidence that made you wonder how in the hell you managed to grab his attention, but he claimed it was love at first sight. What you will never know was how Jacaerys admired you on the first day of orientation when you wrapped your hand around Alysanne, Cregan’s girlfriend, as you chatted about how excited you were to join the art club. He will never tell you how amazed and inspired he felt when he saw your artwork displayed in a gallery, your picture with a small introduction next to it was enough to send his head in a spiral. You were talented, quiet, and reserved, but you were also kind, as he often heard of a girl who helped the elderly in a local shelter that his family often helped out.

History was something he took pride upon, he loved to study, to learn of his ancestors, the history of his people, and the treasures lost but soon to one day be discovered. He took a lot of pride in his eagerness to expand his knowledge despite the person he looked like on the outside. Popular, rich, soon-to-be co-president of the frat house, a nerd? That was a contradiction, out of the status quo. However, he cared about nothing other than succeeding and making his family proud, the opinions of his family never made him hesitant or ashamed. He carried his last name with pride.

During the first year, Valyrian history was a class he excitedly enrolled in, and he almost broke his legs coming down steps to his seat when he saw you sitting in the second roll of the grand hall. He told the old gods how thankful he was to share a class with you. More he thanked the gods when the professor assigned a teammate project. There you sat, an awkward expression on your soft features, you looked around in anxiety, you knew no one and you had no idea how to approach someone new.

You jumped when a soft voice spoke from above you, “Do you want to be my partner?”

The book in your hands slipped as the stranger stood confidently, waiting for your response. Your cheeks became hot, “Uh… yeah., of course! I’d love to.” You cringed at the stutters and the disorganization of the spot where you sat. Jacaerys only smiled, though inside he was doing cartwheels.

“I’m Jacaerys Velaryon, first year,” he said as he smiled softly towards you. You organized your books, before eyeing his hand that reached for yours. You smiled politely as you gave your name.

“That’s a pretty name,” he said before he focused on the board as he listened intently. You blushed.

“Thank you,” you mumbled quietly, your face feeling like it was going to melt.

A friendship grew then, and in two weeks, you and Jacaerys became the biggest friends. You always thanked him for helping you with your history homework, but the only response you got was a shake of the head and a wave. He was more than happy to help you. Every Tuesday and Thursday in the mornings you met Jacaerys on the stairs to the main hall where the history lecture was held and in his hand was always a bag of cherries. Your favorite. The color stained your lips just as the color of your cheeks never left when you were beside him.

“Here,” you said one day before class. Jacaerys pushed his glasses up his head to hold his bangs back. His eyes rounded with confusion. You chuckled, “This is for you, as a thank you. You know… for being a good friend and helping me every single time.”

Jacaerys heart felt as if it was going to be heard by you, uncovering the deepest feelings he felt for you. In his hands now laid a handmade ceramic piece in the form of a dragon. The details were very defined, and he wondered how long it took you to finish, it looked professional, very rich in the colors, and you spent dedicated time crafting all the details onto the piece. He gasped as he saw the hidden message.

From you, comes the blood of the dragon.

His head snapped to meet you, his expression tender and appreciative, “Thank you, y/n.”

You smiled widely, your toes curling into the soles of your shoes as you beamed proudly, “You’re welcome Jace.”

The term ended but your friendship with the man you grew feelings for did not. In hidden messages, you showed your love through crafts, taking every technique, you learned in your studio classes to craft small things for the friend who held your heart. Jacaerys cherished those gifts more than his life, proudly showing it off that Cregan called him “Lovesick Romeo.”

Whether he kept the gifts or not, you will never know, but you hoped that he did, they were messages of your love for him.

During midterms, you jokingly mentioned his name sounded so ancient.

“I’m telling Mom you’re calling her old,” was all he said before he smiled when he saw you stop your giggles in fear. Rhaenyra adored you, often did she texted you a good morning and a wish for you to have the best day. To you, she was your other mother, and never did she let you call her Rhaenyra or Ms. Targaryen, nagging your ear off to be called mom.

“You know, as ancient as it sounds, it does look pretty in cursive,” your eyes shined with intrigue, Jacaerys knew already your small habits, the expressions you pulled whenever you switched moods. He knew that now you were about to tell him about art. He only leaned back on his chair, his arms crossed against his chest as he softly smiled, his full attention on you.

You grabbed your drawing pad and your bamboo brush; your small tube of black ink was uncapped as you excitedly showed him what you meant. He watched as you concentrated, your hair falling perfectly around your face, your eyes focused as the inner of your forehead creased and you frowned. He only watched you counting down the days for the perfect time to ask you the big question.

“Okay! Look!”

Jacaerys leaned over you, your hands touching sending your skin in goosebumps. You cleared your throat to show indifference. “Your name is beautiful,” you mentioned softly. Jacaerys locked eyes with you, his brown eyes so glassy that you saw your reflection through his. You gasped softly.

“You made it beautiful,’ he said, “Your writing is beautiful, are you learning that now?”

You were thankful he switched topics as you swore you almost puked from the overwhelming feelings that consumed you whole. “Yeah,” you cleared your throat once again, “Typography, though it’s in digital, is something about tracing different fonts and all that helps too and is effective in the real world.”

Jacaerys hummed, his long fingers tracing the ink on the paper, “Sounds cool.”

You smiled, “It’s very cool.”

You were finally done with finals, cheering softly into the softness of your pillow. Vermax jumped on you, his mouth nibbling on your hair, “Vermax,” you groaned when he pulled a little too hard, “You evil baby.”

A soft ‘roof,’ was heard before he flopped beside you to chew on his plushie Jacaerys had gotten him from Dragonstone.

You flopped on your stomach, your arms hugging the pillow closer to your face, your brain empty, enjoying the comfortable silence. Jacaerys was at his last final of the semester, he left for school after you did so you took the time to relax before going out later that night. Cregan and Alysanne along with Benjicot and a few other friends of Jacaerys invited you both to the bar to celebrate the end of the semester.

As you stared around the bedroom you noticed a shiny box hidden under the cabinet where you and Jacaerys stacked a collection of films and books. You raised an eyebrow, watching the box glimmer against the light of the room. “Huh.”

You stood up to approach the box you had never seen before. As you were about to open it, the phone rang making you jump in fright. “Seven fucking hells!”

Eyeing the box you answered the phone, “Hello?”

“Hi baby, sorry! Just a quick question before I head to the test hall. Mom invited us to the city for a family dinner and she asked if you were up for it. Joff has been whining her ear off how much he misses you,” Jacaerys spoke quickly and quietly, you knew he was outside the hall.

“Absolutely! Yeah, I’ll call her right now actually.”

“Okay, that’s all. I’ve gotta go, the professor is here, I’ll see you soon. I love you!”

You smiled, the hold on the phone tightened, “I love you so much more, good luck!”

The phone call was cut short, you prayed he did well, but you never doubted he would do terribly. Jacaerys was very much a nerd hidden behind the popularity of his name and the circle of friends he had. He loved his books more than anything, always eager to know more.

Your eyes went back to the box that tempted you to open, you clicked your tongue. Untying the ribbon, you lifted the hard lid off, your jaw dropping at the contents of the box. “What the -”

Inside the box held every piece of love you ever crafted for Jacaerys, every piece you made with a small sticky note with a date. Your eyes watered, he had kept it all. For two years, Jacaerys Velaryon kept every message you gave him, the small dragon you gifted him sat by his bedside with a picture of you and him. He claimed it was to keep you close whenever you went to work or class. The tears ran down your cheeks as you went over every piece, every painting, and sculpture, until you stopped at a note.

“Oh, my g-”

Jacaerys.

The piece of paper was old, the edges where it seemed to have been ripped off a book glared at you. The memories flooded upon you. You recalled how angry and sad you were when the paper you wrote his name in calligraphy disappeared from your drawing book. In your hands laid the same people you mourned over. On the bottom relied on a new message. A message that made you choke on the sob you released. One of full love and happiness.

February 8th, the day I began counting down the days I would ask her to be mine forever.

☆ jace nation taglist (open): @vividxpages @writtenapoiogy @smurfelle @number-0-iz @peri4stral @girlthatislost @agqrtz @thenotesapppoet ☆ natties angel list (open): @aemondvelaryon @fleurbies @yohanseyebrowmole

☆ slutcult/mooties: @mattnott @manhandlememando @bucksplum @housetargaryenloyalist @xxselenite @vee-mage @v3lary0ns @hxtd @eldrith @bryscorner @princessbellecerise

[getthehexstrap]

Hi! So, I have an idea for a Jinx x fem. I was thinking reader’s parents are meeting Jinx for the first time for Christmas dinner. They ultimately disapprove of Jinx, so reader leaves with her. Maybe, it could end with reader telling Jinx how much she loves her. You can totally play around with this if you want. Thanks for your time!

Not So Picture Perfect

Jinx x piltie!(fem)reader

omg i love this request, thank you!

summary: jinx is meeting your parents for the first time at christmas dinner.

genre: a little angsty, fluff

warnings: arguing, cursing, stuck up parents.

a/n: it's been forever since i've written angst, bare with me... also, this was supposed to be posted tomorrow but i accidentally clicked the wrong button 😭

"You know, I'm never really nervous but right now I feel like I need to run the other direction and hide." Jinx laughs softly as she scratches the back of her head.

The two of you are currently standing on the doorstep of your childhood home for Christmas dinner. She's dressed in a different attire than usual; a white, flowy button up that she stole from you, and a pair of black pants. Her hair is done in her usual braids and you only used a little bit of makeup as you thought she didn't even need it, but it made her feel better.

You grew up in Piltover, but as you got older you quickly realized you weren't fit for it, so you ventured down to Zaun where you met Jinx. Much to no one's surprise, your parents weren't too fond of that.

"You're going to be just fine, baby." You assured her, flattening the soft wrinkles in her shirt with a grin.

Your back automatically stiffened up straight at the sound of the door opening. "Y/n." Your mother addressed you, tone sharp as she eyed you and your... 'guest' down. "Mom, Hi." You smiled softly as you grabbed Jinx's hand. "I'd like you to meet my girlfriend, Jinx."

Your mother's eyes glanced at the blue-haired girl beside you. "Yes, I've heard so much about you, Jinx." She spoke, looking the girl up and down once, turning on her heel. "Come in. Dinner is getting cold." You turned your head towards her with a sorry smile before squeezing her hand, and pulling her inside.

•

"So, Jinx; I've heard you... make things?" Your father questioned after a few moments of meaningless chatter. "Uhm, yes sir, I do." You could hear the nervousness in her voice. Your hand found its place on her thigh, rubbing soft circles with your thumb as you shot her a reassuring smile.

"And these things are?" He asks, taking a bite of his food. "Well, they're all different, ya'know?" She laughs softly, trying to lighten the mood. "She makes these beautiful trinkets." You smile, saving her before she tells them she makes bombs. She sends you a thankful smile in return.

Your mother clears her throat, dropping her fork and picking up her napkin. "Trickets?" You immediately heard the judgement in her tone as she spoke. "How peculiar." She snickers quietly, and your hand softly squeezes Jinx's thigh again.

"Don't worry about them, baby." You quietly mouth to her with a small smile before changing the topic.

•

"Y/n, may we speak to you in the other room please?" Your mother's voice rang behind you, grabbing your attention away from talking with Jinx by the tree. You give her a quick peck before following her to the other room, reassuring you'll only be gone a few moments.

"Yes?" You ask, crossing your arms as you reach the next room. "I think you two should... break things off." She says, placing her hands on her hips with a stern look. You scoff in return, shaking your head. "No." Your voice is just as stern as her face, and as you stand up straighter to meet her eye, you can see the shocked look in her face.

"No?" She questions you, eyes wide in anger. "How dare you—" "No, mom. How dare you! I'm not a kid, you can't tell me who to date anymore! You don't get to control who I can and can't love like you do everything else." You finally stick up for yourself, and you hear the gasps from both parents.

"You cannot speak to your mother like that young lady!" Your father chimes in, sticking his finger in your face as he gets closer. "Oh please! She's spoken to me the same way since I was 8 years old, it wouldn't kill her to be treated the same way for once." You roll your eyes before you feel a hand slap your cheek.

You scoff again, grabbing the now burning flesh with your hand before looking her in the eyes. "This is your last chance, Y/n. Break things off with that– street trash, and we can forget about this little outburst of yours. Or, you leave with her and you will get cut off." Your mother stared down at you with narrow eyes, with her jaw clenched in anger.

Tears began to well up in your eyes, but it wasn't because you were sad, no, it was just confirmation settling in. "Okay." You start, wiping your eyes once before standing up straight again. "Goodbye, then." You go turn to walk away when you see Jinx, standing in the doorway with an almost guilty look on her face as she picks at her fingers.

"You turn back around right now!"

You look back at your parents once more before walking towards Jinx and grabbing her hand. "Come on, we're leaving."

You pay no mind to the screaming voices of your mother and father as you walk out of your childhood home. "God, I fucking hate them." You mumbled under your breath.

"I'm really sorry." Jinx speaks up, though you can barely hear her. You stop walking and turn to face her, grabbing her face. "Baby, listen to me." You smile as you tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for. You did nothing wrong, they're just a couple stuck up dicks who can't get their heads out of their asses." You like softly, stroking her cheek with your thumb.

"But they said—" "I don't care what they said. I want to be with you. You make me so happy, I love you, Jinx." Your eyes look into hers as you speak, and you can see the shock hit her when you say it.

"Wh—" She blinks slowly. "What?" It comes out in a whisper, not fully comprehending what was just said. "Y/n. You don't mean that. I'm not good for you– you should just go back." Jinx tries, beginning to walk away while shaking her head.

"Jinx! I don't care what they think. I don't care what anyone thinks. You're more than good for me, baby. I love you." You call out, trying to catch up with her but it's quickly replaced with a deep, passionate kiss as she spins around and her lips crash against your own.

The snow covers you both as you pull away. Jinx takes a breath, closing her eyes before opening them again with her own soft smile. "I love you."

You lean in to kiss her once more, this one quicker than the last. "Let's go home, baby." You kiss her cheek once as you lead the way back to your city.

"Home." She giggles. "I like that."

this is so short and lowkey horrible im so sorry guys 💔 buttt, merry christmas and happy holidays 💋

[urfavlarry]

—I’ll be watching you

A/N. this is my first ever time writing for arcane so I’m sorry if anyone is OOC, also you call Jinx “Calamity Jane” towards the end and as a sort of explanation I read that she (Martha Jane Burke, who was nicknamed that) would bring calamity (great harm) to anyone who made her angry or something like that so I thought it pretty much fit?? idk am I crazy?

Summary. A failed mission leaves Jinx emotionally shattered, and as her partner and the one closest to her, you offer your comfort.

warning. mentions of gagging, swearing, not proof read

"Y/N?" Sevika’s voice cuts through your makeshift bedroom, her tone steady and low, though you catch a hint of an almost unnoticeable smile she only ever reveals to people she trusts most— at least the genuine ones. “Yeah?" You respond, raising an eyebrow as you sit up, suspicion creeping into your thoughts at her sudden appearance.

���Silco is calling,” she announces, her tone turning serious as she gestures toward the door. “Says it’s urgent, so you better get your ass moving before he loses his patience.” As you stand, she claps a firm hand on your back, sending you on your way.

Your expression betrays your lack of enthusiasm as you leave. Nearly eight months into working for Silco, the experience has been nothing short of a rollercoaster .

You remember how it all began—how they found you. You’d been left for dead on the streets, your body beaten, hunger eating at you (as ironic as that sounded) until even your consciousness started to slip from you. Then, amidst the blur of pain and hopelessness, a voice broke through. “Hey, Sevika? Found a girl and she ain’t moving,” the voice had said, casual yet laced with curiosity, dragging out the ‘o’ in moving. It belonged to a blue-haired girl who crouched near your crumpled form. Before long, footsteps rushed closer and everything after that was a haze. What mattered now was that you were alive, under a roof, and surrounded by people who, if not outright kind, were at least kind enough in keeping you around.

Jinx had become the closest to you. Only a year younger, she often found reasons to drag you into her antics whenever she wasn’t trapped in one of her moods. She had opened up to you on more than one occasion, revealing fragments of her past that very few had the privilege— or misfortune to hear. On other days, she’d meet your concern with sarcasm or tell you to “fuck off” or whatever insult she decided to call you that day. Charming as ever, Jinx had a knack for keeping things...interesting.

As you approach Silco’s office you knock on the carved wooden door, finding yourself momentarily distracted, tracing the details of the design before the faint, muffled words, “Come in,” snap you back to reality.

Pushing the door open, you straighten your posture and try your best to keep your face as neutral as possible. “You called for me?” you ask, stepping forward to stand before the desk where Silco sat, a cigarette between his slim fingers.

The smoke quickly mixes into the air, making it harder to breathe but you endure it without complaint. In the background soft jazz plays, the sound leaving you in a trance, another world where things seemed better. Visions of elegant soirées, women in flowing gowns, men in expensive tuxedos, their laughter and movement going along with the tunes of a trumpet.

“Y/N,” Silco’s sharp voice snaps you out of your train of thougt and you blink, realizing you’ve lost focus, the tips of your ears burning with embarrassment. “Are you even listening to me right now?”

“Yes, sir,” you answer, though only half-truthfully. You’ve caught fragments of his words, something about Jinx and another one of her shenanigans, the details of which were already causing a headache to ripple through his operations.

“Good,” he says, exhaling a big puff of smoke before dismissing you with a wave of his hand. “Go.”

Without hesitation, you leave the office, heading directly to Jinx’s hideout.

‘What have you done this time?’ You think to yourself, a groan escaping your lips as your steps echo against the metal platforms leading to the heart of her chaotic sanctuary.

You soon spot her, nestled within her makeshift fort illuminated by warm, glowing lights. It looks oddly serene—a stark contrast to the whirlwind of chaos she so often brings. It’s the kind of space that might calm her restless energy when the world, or her mind, seem to turn against her.

You carefully step towards her figure which was huddled in a sort of ball, her eyes wide and brows furrowed with anger. She kept mumbling incoherent sentences and threats which you only caught certain words from. You croach next the girls small figure and observe her before speaking up.

“So.. Wanna talk about it.” You whisper, offering her yourself as a sort of vent book or punching bag for her to just pour everything out, which from your experience worked best for the both of you.

She only rolled her eyes in annoyance, whispering a harsh ‘Go away’ before turning your back to you.

The information you got from Silco was vague, however you pieced together that like always, she was only trying to help but sadly her cards weren’t in her favour.

“Listen, I know your upset and that’s completely valid on your end however don’t hold these feelings in. Okay, sweets?” A gentle hand lands on Jinxs’ back and everything came crashing down on her. She leaped into your arms, full on ugly crying and shaking from the built up tension. She yelled profanities and sentances left and right and all you could really do was listen and let her get it out.

You didn’t say anything for a moment, giving her the space to compose herself. Jinx sat back, her knees drawn to her chest, her fingers idly fidgeting with a loose thread on her pants. The raw vulnerability in her expression was something rare—something she reserved for no one but you and Silco.

"You done?" you ask softly, a faint smile tugging at the corners of your lips to help lift her mood.

“Yeah… yeah, I’m done,” she muttered, her voice raspy from all the shouting and crying. Her usual amount of energy dim, replaced by a kind of exhaustion that made her seem smaller than she really was.

“You wanna tell me what happened?” you asked, keeping your tone gentle but firm. You didn’t want to push her too hard, but you also knew that bottling things up would only make it worse for her.

Jinx hesitated, her fingers tightening around the thread she was pulling at. “It’s stupid,” she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I thought I could help out because their plan was pretty fucking stupid, but instead, I just.. made it worse.”

She continued with a hint of guilt in her tone, eyes looking towards her fingers which her nails were scratching at. “The mission went to shit, and everyone was yelling, and I thought one of the new gadgets I made.. you know the one I showed you a few days ago? Yeah that one just went ‘boom’ and it destroyed a lot of the Shimmer. Sevika said I was insane, that I wasn’t thinking straight, but I was! She said I jinxed the whole mission but what can I say that’s what I’m best at! Haha Jinx jinxing a mission! Ironic ain’t it—”

You placed your hand over hers, stilling the nervous rambling. “Hey,” you said softly, meeting her red violet eyes. “You tried. That’s more than most people would’ve done. You’re not perfect, Jinx. None of us are. I mean were the ‘shitty lower class’ and not some pilties getting life handed on a golden plate.. But you care, and that counts for something.”

She didn’t respond right away, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Was Silco pissed?,” she asked, her voice sounding sore.

“At you? Probably a tiny bit.. buuut if I, your lovely guardian angel, goes with you and explain the whole situation I bet Sevika will be taking the blame by the end of the night,” you quipped, earning a small, shaky laugh from her. “He knows you better than anyone.. Silco, I mean. He knows your heart’s in the right place, even if things don’t always go according to plan.”

The two of you sat there for a while, the silence between you comforting rather than awkward. For now, she seemed calmer, her messsed up mind quieting. It wasn’t a permanent fix—it never was but it was enough for today.

“Thanks, Y/N,” she said after a while, her voice soft but sincere.

“Anytime, Jinx,” you replied, leaning back with a sigh. “Now, how about we get out of here? Maybe grab something to eat before Silco summons us both for round two?”

She chuckled lightly, wiping the last of her tears away. “Yeah, okay. Let’s go.”

With that, you stood and helped her to her feet, her hand lingering in yours for a moment longer than usual before she let go. You gently kiss her forehead, her eyebrows furrowing and making a fake gag sound before she kissed your cheek; “Go on, we’ve got some explaining to do Calamity Jane.” A smile crept onto your face as she skipped ahead, already sort of going back to her usual self. Others would think she was being ungrateful and bratty, however you know deep down somewhere in that storm of a heart and mind of hears she’s happy to have someone like you.

Someone that listens.

┊͙

© URFAVLARRY

DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE OR COPY ANY OF MY WRITING TO OTHER PLATFORMS

I DON’T CONSENT FOR MY WRITING TO BE USED TO TRAIN AI 🚫

[keyaho]

.summary. a continuation of the previous chapter. Terry makes a bold move on Nami and gives her some well earned softness.

.kinks. choking, collaring, implied oral, sexual intercourse, suggestive language. 3021 words

.warnings. minors do not engage, you are responsible for reading material that is age appropriate. this story is written for those 21+. this chapter is a bit shorter as it's a continuation.

“Give me that pussy,’ Terry growled. 

The sound was deep in his throat. His already low voice was deeper, richer, hungrier. Nami could only moan as he stuffed her pussy with his dick. On her hands and knees, Terry’s hand pushed down on her shoulder and pulled up on her hips. 

She wiggled her hips backwards, swallowing his thickness in inch by inch. It was a little past two in the afternoon and she was fucked out. How he was able to draw out pleasure from her made Nami cross her eyes. She focused on his hips, the way they pounded against hers, and how his balls slapped up against her clit. She was salivating herself, drool coating her chin and chest, wetting up the sheets.  

"I know that shit feels good,' he cooed, his tongue lapping at the shell of her ear. 

Two orgasms in and he was fucking her towards her third. He’d already filled her with his cum and was itching to do it again. She was a mess between her legs. A creamy white mess. 

“Sir,’ she whined as his stopped moving. 

“Mh?” He asks coolly, ‘whatchu’ need besides this dick, Nami? You shouldn’t be asking for anything else right now.” 

Her lips puckered together as she whispered so breathlessly he barely heard it. “Okay.” 

Terry had given her a little more vocal leeway. Her replies had to be respectful with no cursing. He’d let her little, okay, slip because he could feel her shaking in his hands. She was still sensitive from this morning and he knew it was pushing on uncomfortable. Terry brought her back from sub space a while ago and was keeping her engaged to avoid a second slip so soon. 

“Can I share something,’ he says, his thrusts quickening as he pulled her up and threw his arm around her neck. His other landed on her belly, locking her in place while supporting her lower body before he rallied his strength and fucked into her. 

Nami stared up at the ceiling. His bicep and forearm applied heavy pressure to her neck, the choking method felt like a boa constrictor. His arm was so thick. He applied just enough pressure for her to feel it while cutting off just enough air she soaked his dick from the pressure and he could feel it leaking on his thighs. 

“There you go,’ he whispered, very close to her ear, ‘wet that dick up, pretty girl.” 

He listened to her cries and screams. Egged on by her vocal offerings, Terry rubbed hand down between her legs, thumbing the sensitive clit that was swollen and needy. 

“I can’t wait for you to touch me,’ he grunted. “Those soft pretty hands on me? I. Can't. Wait.” He punctuated his words with hip shattering thrusts.

“Please, please, please,’ she begged, voice thick with desire just for the simple act of touch. 

“And that’s why I’m making you wait,’ he hissed. “I like hearing you beg.” 

Nami was at his control, arched back into his vice grip as her pussy fluttered around his dick. “Because as soon as I do, I’m at your mercy,’ he admitted, ‘and baby, I just can’t have that.”

Terry leaned against the cart, his attention divided between the cart filling with Christmas ornaments, a Oreo Frappuccino he kept secretly sipping, and Nami, who was pacing the isle. He made the mistake of eating the last of her doughnut holes and when he slid his seat back in the car, egging on her on to suck his dick, she got out and walked towards the store, a pout on her lips. The last thing she needed was more sugar than her frappuccino and the doughnuts had been grabbed from a street vendor back at the market. Though he bought them, he denied wanting one, until his hand dove into the bag and pulled out the last one. It just so happened to be raspberry filled. Her favorite. 

"Nami,' Terry called out, bumping her thigh with the cart. 

"You ate my doughnut." 

"I can go back to get you more,' he offered, again. 

"No. I don't want them anymore." 

"Then come drink this,' he said, holding up the cold confectionary drink. 

Nami frowned. "It's melted and I don't want it anymore." 

Terry let out a small laugh, his face twisting into a smile. "You're upset over the doughnut?" 

She placed the pink ornaments back on the shelf and faced him. 

"You said you didn't want any!" She replied, voice just above a whisper. 

Nami grabbed the cold drink from him and wrapped her lips around the straw before taking a long sip. She yanked it out her mouth as her head began to chill. 

"Do you want more?" 

"You already asked me that." 

"No, I said I would go back. I'm asking if you want more." 

Nami walked around him with her cup, disappearing down another aisle as he tapped his fingers on the cart before following her.

It had been her idea to decorate a tree at his place since he didn't have one. She had her own, but the chance to get a new tree and ornaments took over. After Terry and her had showered and dress, she begged him to bring her out to find a tree. Though they were at her place, she wanted to put the tree at his. The cart was already filled with ornaments in green and silver. She had asked for his input and he was terrible at it. Picking out ornaments that didn't match in color. Left up to him, the tree would have been neon orange, black, and gold. 

"You mad at me?" 

He had stepped up behind her, his hand on her waist as she looked through the different color and shape of boxed lights. The drink in her hand chilled her palm. Blocked by his body, Terry slipped his hands down the front of her skirt. 

"Sir,' she mumbled, 'someone can see." 

He looked around at the semi busy store and shrugged. Pulling his hand back, he patted the side of her thigh. 

"Then hurry up. I have something for you anyway." 

It was a few things actually and he was glad she pushed him to put the tree up at his place. Everything he had for her would stay there unless he moved it. Nami watched him walk to another aisle before she followed behind him. 

"Wait,' she tossed the drink in a trash and caught up to him at the stockings. "What do you have?" 

She stood there with her hands behind her back. Looking up at him, Nami pursed her lips in question. He hadn't given anything away and she wasn't sure where they were in their relationship to buy him gifts. That must have shown on her face because he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead. 

"Don't worry about it Nami,' he said.

Her shoulders dropped a little as the tension released. She would still get him something, but she at least had time and another opportunity to view his place to see what he might like or want without directly asking. Terry was a quiet man and his house looked like a page from a minimalist magazine. From what she saw of his room all his things wer put away, shoes lined up perfectly along the wall, no stray clothes, and even his fridge was organized. Everything had it's place, including her. 

Nami, anticipating what his surprise were, found the lights she wanted and tossed enough in the cart to string around the 8-foot tree. 

Nami made Terry move the tree around five times before it ended up back where it first started; by dining table right before the hardwood floors changed to tile. Her black tree skirt stood out against the frosted leave christmas tree. She hadn't paid attention but the tree also came with little red berries on some of the branches, giving it depth and character. While he found an extension cord, Name began placing the pink and white ornaments. When he came back, he knelt beside her and plugged in the extension cord for her. He kissed her bare leg and up her thigh before wrapping her arms around her waist.

"You are distracting me." She mumbled.

She clenched the ornament in her hands and looked down at him. He pushed up her shirt and kiss her belly, mouthed around her waist as his head disappeared under her shirt. The warm air sent chills over her body as Terry's tongue licked at her inner thighs.

"Finish the tree, baby,' he replied.

This was the first time she had spent a holiday with a man in almost four years. It was weird, considering their dynamic, and comforting. This past semester had been hell before Terry came into her life. The balance and structure helped her flourish. She didn't dread going to class. She was present and focused. She wiggled her toes and leaned forward, trying to put the balls on the branches, but he was taking up space.

"Sir,' she wiggled her legs, his forehead was resting on her stomach.

"Nah,' he says. His fingers pinch the back of her thighs and she yelps. "Try that again."

"Oh! Sorry, Daddy,' she relaxes in his hold. It was hard to tell of his changes when she couldn't see him.

Nami leaned forward again and was startled when Terry picked up her leg and hooked it on his shoulder. He held her tight so she kept her balance, but she hated she couldn't see his face. Nami twisted around, searching for other ornaments when her leg buckled. Terry's tongue had slipped out his mouth and pressed against her clit.

"How am I supposed to,' Nami whimpered.

Terry had started to lower her to the floor, the ornaments were out of reach at this point and her legs were pushed apart. She reached down and pulled up her shirt, his dark green eyes and focused on her. As handy as the no panty rule was, sometimes she wanted to throw them on. His mouth was lethal and she knew when he locked in on her like that she wasn't going out without at least two orgasms.

Terry tilted his head upwards and she followed his gaze. Rolling over, Nami crawled towards the decorations and let out a small 'oof' when Terry grabbed her ankle. She had one of the boxes in her hand and laughed as he dragged her and the box back towards him.

When he finally let her finish, he was watching her from the couch. She moved around the tree with ease, changing the spots where she had placed an ornament or flower. Terry watched Nami admire the tree when she was done. His apartment looked a little more festive and it wasn't a total eyesore among his cleaner aesthetic.

"Come sit."

She moved towards Terry as he sat up. He reached into the table and for a second Nami thought he was getting her cuffs. Instead he pulled out a black square box and placed it on her lap. She knew it was kink related, but what else could he have? The anal ring he given her earlier was replaced with a slightly larger one already.

Opening the box, she shut it just as quickly and then gave him a surprised look.

"I was not expecting this,' she says, opening the box to stare at the diamond tennis necklace. It was very simple, dainty, and perfect.

"Collaring is important. We'll be in spaces of like minded people and I want them to know you're spoken for. Permanently."

He took the box from her and had her kneel between his legs with her back to him. She moved her curls out of the way as he latched the necklace around her neck, officially making it her collar. She turned around and he admired it. The way it sat against her collarbones, how it sparkled just enough, and the goofy and apprehensive smile on his subs face.

"What's wrong?" He asks.

"Nothing wrong,' she says, 'I….its a bit overwhelming."

It was a representation of their relationship and her acceptance of it. Nami reached up to touch it while excusing herself to the guest bathroom. She looked in the mirror at her collar. She could feel his expectations now. The necklace was beautiful and light, but it was heavy with responsibility. After about ten minutes, Terry knocked on the bathroom door.

"Nami,' he said, 'are you okay?"

She looked away from her reflection and opened the bathroom door. "Yes. I just needed to process what this means."

"It means you're my only submissive. It means you trust me with your body. I get to call you mine."

Nami nodded, but he knew what the problem. She needed assurance. She needed to be told.

"You're my submissive in bed and when I need you to be otherwise. You're also my girl,' he saw the change in her eyes, the way the softened to him. "I'm going to take you out as much as I slut you out."

Nami next surprise made her overly excited to the point she bounced up and down when he told her. Now that he had been able to indulge in her the least he could do was really reward her for being so good. It made shivers slide down his spine, but the pleasure on the other end of it kept him hard from the moment he told her until now. In the guest room, her last surprise was in his, he told her to get comfortable. Her back was against the headboard and her legs were spread. Terry had crawled between them and kissed her gently before exhaling deeply. He could see the excitement in her eyes. He’d finally given her permission to touch him and she instantly had been over zealous. She was bubbling with excitement as he complied with her want. He turned his body, his back to her chest, and she adjusted herself some so that he was partially on the pillows beside them. Nami ran her nose along his neck and watched his hands begin to clench at his sides.

Her tongue flattened against his neck and he jerked to the side away from her.

“You playin’,” he hissed.

Her ten minutes of exploring his half naked body were winding down. Nami kissed his shoulder, her right hand rubbing down his chest and stomach. The muscles clenched and the tent in his sweat grew.

“Oh?” She whispered, her fingertips snaking beneath the waist of the sweats. “Can I touch?” She asked. “Pwease, Daddy?” Her nails made small circles on his lower abdomen and Terry stared up at the ceiling as he tried to pull control from thin air. He was shaking as pleasure coursed through his body and he knew if she touched him what would happen.

“Yeah, go ahead baby. Touch Daddy.”

Nami slipped her hand in his sweats and he watched then felt her dainty palm wrap around the base of his dick. Pre cum leaked from the top and her thumb swirling the mess down to the base of his dick on one long and slow stroke.

“Oh fuck,’ he groaned, sinking into her embrace.

Her other hand was on his neck and she wrapped her hand around it to apply some pressure. She didn't waste time pulling him free from his sweats. Instead, she stroked him and they both watched the way his body began to tremble each time her hand moved.

"Shit." He cursed, his foot planting on the bed.

Nami stopped her hand at that, her index finger tapping his neck. "Put that leg down,' she said, a little commanding essence in her sweet voice. Terry did as he was told, grinning, but softly moaning as she resumed playing with his dick because that's exactly what she was doing. Playing.

He could feel her breath on the side of his face. Her breaths were long and drawn out to match the slow stroke of her hand. Downwards, she breathed in. Upwards, she exhaled. Her hand around his throat tightened and he could feel the points of her stiletto shaped nails dig into his skin. The pinch of the acrylics made his eyes roll to the back of his head. He melted into her arms, his hands clenched the sheets and the moving tent in his sweats pulled deep guttural moans from his chest.

“You’re so big Daddy,’ she whispered, her tongue dancing around the shell of his ear. “So thick,” she mumbled in awe.

Her hand barely wrapped around him. Nami glanced at the timer and began to slow her strokes. As much as she was enjoying it, she didn't want to get caught up and have to stop. Terry sat up, slight confusion but then the timer went off and they both jumped at the shrill sound. Nami pulled her hands away and placed them in her lap. When Terry turned to look at her, she wore a large grin on her face. She was more than please with herself for making him feel the way he did.

She noticed his face was scrunched up and he hd turned so his boyd was face her. Between her legs, Terry grabbed her hand, pinning it above her head with his own. He took the other and tugged her down so he could rest between her legs. He added the other hand to his grasp, and she dropped her legs to the bed, creating more room for him. Terry's dick was hard pressed against her sex, heavy, and hard.

"You're getting some rules for touching tomorrow,' he says while tugging down his sweats.

"Oh,' Nami replies, already lifting her shirt towards her head. She couldn't hid her smile from finally wearing him down.

He stoped it at her hands and twists it to keep her hands bound. He could feel the heat from her sex and with one well practiced stroke, he was buried in her cunt for what seemed like the hundredth time that day.

I went through my tag list and removed blogs with no ages, lack of interaction, or the blog just looked empty. If you were removed and would like to be added back at least have your age in your blog.

@nayaesworld @peachbuttetfly @heauxvibez @avoidthings @mymindisneverhere @eilujion @heytaewrites  @insidefeelingofanadult @captainwithoutmakingitlove  @kindofaintrovert @jimmybutlrr @beenathembo  @virgomess  @theereina @randomhood @ash-ketchumzzz @megamindsecretlair @nubiagurllll @zillasvilla

@wabi-sabi1090 @iterum-incipi @liquorlaughslove @eilujion @taureanstargirl @mzv11@Disc0fair @prettyfilmz @simplyzeeka @heytaewrites vivaalenaa theogbadbitch

Insertcatchynamerighthere writingsbytee pocketsizedpanther

[backseatsoldier]

"Broken", Not Stupid - 3

Pairing: alpha!Simon "Ghost" Riley x unusual omega!OC (13)

CW: Omegaverse; cult-like situation; dehumanization

Author's Note: If y'all keep feeding the Author Dragon inside me (comments, likes, reblogs), the Author Dragon is going to keep feeding me ideas. So here we GO-

All of the red flags and alarms light up in Simon's head. She said her name is 13.

What the hell kind of place is this?

"Are all of you, the omegas here- do you all have numbers for names?" he asks through gritted teeth.

"Yeah. Weird, right? It was like that in all the facilities I've been in," 13 explains with a shrug.

As if sensing the anger boiling in Simon's mind she shakes her head.

"Not here," she whispers. "If they hear you questioning things, you'll be banned from all Salvation locations with some bullshit reason. You wanna be mad, do it off the property and away from their eyes and ears."

13 pauses for a moment, checking their surroundings before continuing with determination in her eyes.

"Take me in. I'll tell you what I know and can remember. Then you can do what you want with the information."

"What do you mean 'what you can remember'?"

Her hand shoots up, covering his already masked mouth, to stop him.

"Hush! Just... do the paperwork so you can take me in and I'll explain when I'm out of here," she whispers harshly.

Then 13's entire demeanor changes. She becomes... an omega. Then her hand slides down his cheek to his chest and she looks up at him with puppy-love eyes.

"I never thought I'd find an alpha. I'm just so weird and wrong," she pouts.

The scent of one of the beta workers, Jenny, catches Simon's attention. 13 is acting - she must have also smelled Jenny approach. She's putting a lot of trust in someone she just met, but Simon's glad it's him and not any of the other alphas that walked in today.

"Is everything alright, sir? UK-009-0013 isn't usually the... sociable type," Jenny addresses Simon hesitantly.

Jenny's description of 13 makes a look of annoyance flash over 13's face briefly before returning to the puppy-love look. Simon's arm snakes around 13's waist to pull her a bit closer.

"Seems plenty 'sociable' to me," he counters, playing along with 13's act. His free hand comes up to gently cup her cheek. "I'll be taking this omega."

Jenny's jaw drops and her eyes go wide.

"Oh! Um, yes! Of course, sir! I'll get the paperwork started right away," Jenny says, excitment radiating from her as she dashes off.

Once Jenny's gone, 13 steps back and drops her hand from Simon's chest, puppy-love look gone.

"Glad you caught on. Sorry for invading your space so suddenly, though. They get suspicious if we don't seem all lovey-dovey before someone agrees to take us," 13 explains non-chalantly.

"I appreciate the apology, but it's not necessary," Simon says with a dismissive shake of his head. "If it means I can figure out what's going on and get at least one of you safe, I'll do it."

"Knight in shining armor type?" she snorts.

"No. Soldier who's willing to get his hands dirty to keep the world clean," he corrects her firmly.

And he'll gladly get his hands dirty to find out what kind of shady operation Salvation truly is if it means getting all of these omegas to safety.

Masterlist | Part One

Tag list: @lucienofthelakes @lostintransist @demothers-empty-blog

[watarfallar]

Giving y'all more presents because I'm feeling generous <3

Grian: What's that? Scar: Chocolate. Grian: What's chocolate? Scar: Candy. Do they not have candy where you're from? Grian: Yeah. Grapes, nuts. Scar: No wonder you're so bitter.

Scar, clearly drunk: Grian, hit me another drink… wooOO HOOoo… Grian: I think you need a therapist and not a bottle. Scar: I think yooOOoou need to shuUT YOUR MOUTH!

Grian: I won a new phone in a race. Scar: Huh? What kind of race lets you win a phone, Grian? Grian: A race between the store owner, the cop, and me.

Scar: I feel awful about killing you. Grian: Scar: Even though technically you never even died, so I don’t know what you’re bitching about.

Grian: So I can either do something dumb that could very well get me injured or I can listen to Scar and not do the thing, Grian: Well there’s a clear right answer here. Grian: proceeds to throw five packs of mentos into a barrel full of diet coke

Scar: Stop doing that. Grian: Stop doing what? Scar: Saying things that make me wanna kiss the hell out of you.

Grian: Gets down on one knee Scar: Oh my god! It’s finally happening! Grian: Collapses Scar: The poison’s kicking in!

Scar: I want you back… Grian: 3 words, 8 letters. Say it, and I'm yours. Scar: I got food? Grian: …you know me so well.

Scar: raises eyebrows Grian: Put those back down!

Grian: You’re kind of a pushover, aren’t you, Scar? Scar: …I’m sorry. Grian: See!? That’s exactly what I’m talking about!

Scar: What’s your favorite high school memory? Grian: LEAVING. FUCKING LEAVING!

Grian: Strawberry milk doesn’t taste like strawberry OR milk. Scar: Go the fuck to sleep Grian.

Scar: Why is it that I always lose things as soon as I need them? Grian: Actually, it's not that you lose things when you need them. You lose them a while before. It's just that you LOOK for things when you need them. Scar: Okay yeah thanks Grian, that's great but WHERE'S THE FUCKING FIRST AID KIT?

Scar: We have a problem. Grian: No, YOU have a problem. I have an idiot who keeps making them.

Grian: Hey guys, today Scar pushed me, so I'm starting a kickstarter to put them down. Grian: The benefits of killing them are that I would get pushed way less.

Grian: I know what you're up to. Scar: Really? Because I barely know.

Scar, peeling a banana: May I take your jacket, sir? Hahahaha. Grian: Do you think other people can’t hear you?

Scar, peeling a banana: May I take your jacket, sir? Hahahaha. Grian: Do you think other people can’t hear you?

Grian: What’s the dumbest thing you believed as a child? Scar: That naptime was a punishment.

Grian: I'm tired. Scar: You slept for three hours last night! Why are you surprised?! Grian: I'm not surprised. I just wanted to complain about it.

Scar: Will you date me? Breathe if yes, recite the Bible in Japanese if no. Grian: 初めに、神は天と地を創造されました。 Scar: What the…? Grian: 地球��形もなく虚無であり、暗闇が深海の面を覆いました… Scar: Is that actually the Bible?! Grian: …そして神の霊が水面の上に浮かんでいました。 Scar: And you stopped breathing, too?! Grian: そして神は「光あれ」と言われました。 Scar: Christ, it would have been preferable for you to just have beaten me up and called me gay!

Grian: Ah, Hello again. We really need to stop meeting like this. Scar: Maybe we would, if you would sTOP BREAKING INTO MY FUCKING HOUSE!!!

Scar, texting Grian: Hey do you like anyone? Grian: Yeah you Scar: Oh, I'm sorry we're just friends Grian: *Yeah, you? Grian: Oh haha sorry lol Scar: *dies inside*

Grian: Oh, fiddlesticks! That really ruffles my feathers! Scar: Please, just say fuck.

Scar: Even Grian and I have been getting closer. The other day, they gave me half of their sandwich. Grian: I mistook them for a garbage can.

Scar: I want a bf. Grian: Do you mean best friend, boyfriend or bread feast? Because you’re being really vague here.

AND A BONUS LIFE SERIES WINNERS:

Grian: If I fall... Scar: I’ll be there to catch you. Cleo: looks at Scott What if I fall? Scott: Then I’ll fall with you, never leaving your side. Martyn: watches these two interactions Martyn, to Pearl: And if I fall? Pearl: I’ll be the one who pushed you. Joel in the corner grumbling about how Lizzie isn't here:

[writersrkive]

Light | Aaron Hotchner

summary: since a few days ago, you have been distracted. Something about the holidays and Christmas is triggering to you. Apparently, the team doesn't notice this, but your boss, of course, does. He is troubled, but when you say that you are sick on Christmas Eve, right before dinner, he is ready to go with you and keep you company. He also appears with a small gift that can cheer you up.

genre: angst, hurt, comfort.

pairing: Aaron Hotchner x bau!gn!reader

warning: holidays and Christmas being a nostalgic/sad holiday to reader, mention of reader not being from Virginia, family issues (reader), reader is new member of the team, allusion of an age gap (not specific), reader being called "kid" two or three times.

a/n: so... maybe I projected myself a bit into this fic. I hope whoever feels like the main character feels some comfort and understanding here. I'm sorry if there's anything wrong with the writing, I haven't edited yet, but I wanted it posted before Christmas (it's 11pm in my country). English isn't my first language, please be kind <3. Merry Christmas reader, thank you for being here one more year! I'm proud of you.

Masterlist Spanish ver. On Wattpad (coming soon)

Christmas isn't what it was a few years ago, but neither was your family. When you decided to move to Virginia, far from home, it was hard for you because despite having a broken family, the feeling of wanting to fix everything for everyone was still there. The holidays, especially Christmas, brought back memories of when everything was fine —or so it seemed—.

The dynamic of the team was like a family, but as the newest member —and one of the youngest— it was hard to feel completely into it. However, you didn't feel as isolated as you did at first. So, they didn't notice how nostalgic and sad your aura was the days before.

Oh, but Aaron, your boss, did.

It started the day that some workmates decorated the office with a mini Christmas tree, lights and bows. Everyone was heading home, except him, as usual. The paper work ended so the stoic man was closing the door of his office when he noticed the way you were standing in front of the tree, almost giving him your back. He could see half of the profile he caught himself admiring often. The lights were reflected in the sad look similar to that of a child hoping to obtain something impossible.

“Why are you still here?” He asked, not scolding, but rather with curiosity.

“Oh, good night Hotch. I was finishing some paperwork.” Your expression showed that you had come out of a trance.

“Are you done?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Maybe we can walk to our cars together.”

“Sure.”

He didn't try to make small talk. The feeling of tiredness was in the air, but he also felt that he shouldn't try to break down any kind of personal barrier that you had at that moment. Because despite showing a friendly smile, it was obvious that your mind was somewhere else.

Then, a few days later, you were distracted by something peculiar.

“Hey, are you okay?” Derek asked when he noticed that you weren't listening to his theories. Hotch was talking to a police officer, but he was looking at the way your workmate and you were analyzing the crime scene. “Are you cold?” His teasing smile made you chuckle slightly.

“Yeah. I still haven't gotten used to the weather, sorry.” The lie went unnoticed by your colleague. They were profilers, but you were one too, so it was kind of easy to fake certain things. It wasn't right, but at that time of the year you just wanted to survive. Besides, you couldn't tell them anything, not because you didn't trust them, but because it was too much to handle.

Across the street, Aaron looked in the direction you were looking before Derek spoke to you. It was a park a few blocks away. There was an ice rink, giant decorations, and lots of families gathered around. What could that place have to distract you so much?

There were many other occasions like that. The last time was on Christmas Eve. Months ago, Penelope had decided to buy an instant camera to take photos of the team inside and outside of work, when they had days off.

“Here it is, my beautiful fellas!” The blonde said excitedly. “Your handmade Christmas gift!”

She made all of you sit around the table, so she could put in the center the sparkling red notebook, with silver letters. 'Memories at the BAU' could be read.

“Garcia! It's so beautiful!” Emily said, smiling. Derek hugged his friend in appreciation and JJ got closer to Emily so she could see better.

“Look at that. Always a great time for pasta.” Rossi joked looking at one of the pictures where he could be seen making pasta for dinner after a heavy case.

“Always looking good.” Derek said pointing at a picture of him posing with one of the plushies García had at her office.

“Look at us! But why do you look so sad?” JJ joked looking at a group photo. You could be seen at the back with a forced smile.

“I was a little tired, sorry.” You answered, but the reality was that you had received some messages from your family minutes before that photo was taken.

“Hey, why did you take a photo of me taking a nap?” The confused tone in Spencer's voice made you laugh a little, but Aaron noticed the way your eyes didn't light up.

“Does anyone know where our newest member is?” Derek asked, smiling. He can't help but remember the way Emily, JJ and he teased you before. You started to get late to a few compromises —it happened at work once or twice—, but your boss didn't scold you like he would scold anyone else on the team. “He has a soft spot for someone.” Derek playfully twitched that time, thinking the bags under your eyes weren't caused by anything but work —he was wrong—.

“The kid just sent a message to the group chat.” Rossi announced.

“Sick?” Penelope showed her worry, reading your message.

Aaron felt a weird pinch on the chest. He immediately got even more worried than everyone in Rossi's house, even if his face just tensed a little bit more than usual. In his mind he debated whether to go with you to make sure you were okay, even though it might be intrusive.

Maybe you needed space….

Or maybe there was something else you weren't telling them, just like he noticed before.

“Am… I think I'm a little bit sick too.” He whispered after a while.

“What? We are about to eat dinner.” Emily said a little sad. She was worried about the team's health now that Aaron and you were sick.

“I'll be fine. I'm going to take some food with me in case I get hungry later." His movements were a little fast, as if in a hurry.

“Are you sure you don't need a medic, Aaron?” His old friend said and the boss could sense a little teasing in his tone.

“I'm good, I just need to go right now. I'll see you tomorrow. Everyone, please be safe.” The team could sense sincerity in those words when he gave them one last look, after he took the food, his jacket and his keys, and before stepping out of the house.

“Kid is gonna have some company.” Derek teased and everyone, including Reid, smiled knowing what was going on.

Both of you were surprised when you opened the door. He didn't expect to see you with red puffy eyes and nose, and you didn't expect him there, in front of your house, holding some tuppers with food and something else tangled in his arms.

“Hotch?” Your furrowed eyebrows and tilted head made his chest feel warm. You looked confused and also cute. He felt a little bad to think like that when something was wrong with you.

“I needed to make sure you were okay.” That's all he said.

“Oh… Am… I'm just a little…”

“Sick? I don't think so. You have been acting weird, and Christmas has something to do with that. I know because apparently it triggers something that makes you… sad.” His voice was soft. It felt like he didn't want to expose you, but he needed to show how much he knew about the situation. “I don't think you actually fool them. At least, not now. Maybe in the beginning, but that wasn't my case.” But you did feel exposed, even a little ashamed. The lack of movement told Hotch that you were uncomfortable. “I'm sorry…”

“It's okay. I guess it's impossible to fool S.S.A. Aaron Hotchner.” You showed a sad smile, it was more like a grin. “Wait, what about Jack?”

“He's with his aunt. They were on a trip I couldn't join because of obvious reasons. I guess we can keep each other company.” Little by little he had begun to show a smile that was contagious to you.

“Sure.”

When he walked in he noticed the lack of decorations on the surroundings. There was just a small tree at the back of a hall. It had a start at the top and had some lights and spheres. That was it.

“I'm sorry if I'm being intrusive, but can I ask what's wrong?” he asked when you started to help him to put the food on two plates.

You sighted thinking about all the things you needed to explain so you could give him an answer. “It's complicated. I don't know if I wanna talk about that.”

“That's okay. Then, can you tell me how you are feeling?”

You smiled, knowing he changed the question so as not to make you feel uncomfortable, while still keeping in mind the fact that he needed to know how you were feeling. “Everything brings memories. I'm supposed to be with my family, but what family?” I asked, sitting next to him in the kitchen. “Sometimes I wish things were like before, like having a time machine and just going there: where everyone was. Now I know how heavy the family issues were, but I was a kid so at least I was living in a lie… a good lie.”

“I know family is complicated. There's people who hurt other people, and that's not right, but there's too much.”

“Exactly…”

“But you have a family here too, now.” He whispered. And the way he looked at you made you feel like you weren't alone, at least not how you have thought.

“That's why I bring Rossi's lasagna with me. He's gonna be sad if you don't get to try it.”

Dinner was good. Of course you loved Rossi's cooking, but you came to the conclusion that it was because of the company of your boss. He helped a lot by distracting you, chatting about Jack, some plans outside of work and various things. After a few hours you couldn't handle your curiosity anymore.

“Hotch, can I ask you something?”

“Sure, what is it?” Apparently, your question took him by surprise, perhaps it was the tone in which you spoke to him, almost tenderly.

“What is that?” You pointed at what he left coiled up on the armrest of one of the sofas in your living room. It looked like a silver wire with transparent stuff on it.

“These are Jack's favorite lights. We bought it a few years ago. He loved them until we bought a set of identical, larger lights. Do you want to see?”

“Yes!” Your childish tone made him smile.

He untangled the lights and plugged them into the nearest socket, quickly his hands and the place where the lights rested shone brightly.

“Wow…” It was almost a whisper, but Aaron enjoyed the answer as if it was a shout of joy. “These are beautiful.”

“I knew you liked the lights.”

“Huh? Oh! You mean the night when you caught me staring at the…”

“Yeah.”

“Well, yeah, I liked lights. I think I've always liked them, but at some point the feeling became sad."

“They are for you.”

“No, but, Jack…”

“Like I said, he has new ones, so, there's no problem. He will love that you have them.”

“Can you help me to…” You hesitated.

“Sure. Let's go, where do you want them?”

A fun playlist invaded your house. While Hotch held a ladder and watched your back to see if you lost your balance, you placed the string of lights in the living room window.

“Can you turn them on?” You asked him gently. The decorated window came to life as did your eyes and Aaron couldn't feel calmer as he admired your excited countenance.

“I'm glad you liked them.”

Suddenly, cries of excitement were heard from neighboring houses and some Christmas songs began to play from the speakers of nearby restaurants even louder.

“Merry Christmas, Hotch.” You said when you came down from the ladder. The man who came to brighten your night didn't think that seeing your expression would fill his chest with warmth.

“Merry Christmas, kid.”

You definitely didn't know or would have imagined that the man who watched your back at work was what you needed to feel better. He brought the light you needed for days.

[that-one-ostrich-friend]

just a drink

older!sirius black x reader - just a drink

word count: 4k

summary: after a long meeting with the order sirius invites y/n to stay for… just a drink

warnings: kissing, mentions of age gap, absolutely infatuated sirius (bc i like men who shower me with compliments and affection) also slight dumbledore hate

a/n: once again i went insane with this. there are so many other things i should be writing for you but i just have to share this

     The room was dimly lit, the flickering candles casting long shadows across the mismatched chairs and the weathered wooden table. The members of the Order of the Phoenix sat packed tightly together, their faces solemn as Dumbledore spoke. The tension in the air was palpable, the kind that settled deep in the bones and refused to let go.

     Y/N sat near the middle of the table, between Remus and Sirius. Her arms were crossed over her chest, her jaw tight as she listened to Dumbledore outline the latest developments. Her patience was thin tonight, thinner than usual. The constant weight of the war, the sleepless nights, and now the decisions being made without enough consideration for their consequences—it was all too much.

     Dumbledore’s voice carried on, steady and commanding. “We need to establish a stronger presence near Diagon Alley. The Death Eaters are becoming bolder in their attacks, and we must be prepared for the possibility of a strike closer to the heart of wizarding London.”

     Y/N’s fingers tapped against her arm, her brow furrowing. She could feel the frustration building, a knot tightening in her chest. “I don’t see how that helps,” she muttered under her breath.

     Her voice was quiet, but Sirius, sitting to her right, caught it. He glanced at her, his lips twitching into a faint smirk. She always had something to say, always pushed back against authority when she thought they were wrong. It was one of the things he admired about her— her fire.

     Dumbledore continued, unbothered. “A visible presence in the area will serve as both a deterrent and a warning. However, we must exercise caution. Any unnecessary provocation could lead to—”

     “With all due respect, sir,” Y/N interrupted, her voice cutting through the room, “standing around looking official isn’t going to stop them. They already know we’re here, and they’re not afraid of us. If anything, it’ll just make us targets.”

     The room fell silent. All eyes turned to her, some surprised, others wary. Y/N felt the weight of their stares but held her ground, her gaze steady on Dumbledore.

     “Y/N,” Remus murmured beside her, his voice low and calm. He placed a hand on her back, a gesture meant to steady her. “Not now.”

     The touch was gentle but firm, and Y/N felt herself deflate slightly. She bit back a retort and leaned back in her chair, her arms still crossed tightly over her chest.

     Sirius’s eyes flicked to the spot where Remus’s hand rested on Y/N’s back. His smirk faded, replaced by a subtle tightening of his jaw. He knew the gesture was innocent—Remus had always been protective of her, just as he was with everyone in their group—but it still bothered him. There was an ease between them, a quiet understanding, that Sirius couldn’t help but envy.

     And yet, he had no right to feel that way. She wasn’t his.

     He leaned back in his chair, forcing his gaze away from them and pretending to focus on the parchment in front of him. But his thoughts refused to cooperate.

     The age gap. That damned age gap.

     It was the reason he hadn’t made a move, the thing that held him back every time he caught himself watching her for too long or thinking about her late at night. She was young, vibrant, full of life. He was weighed down by a lifetime of mistakes and regrets. What right did he have to want her?

     Dumbledore’s voice pulled him back to the present. “Now, onto the matter of Hogsmeade,” he said, gesturing to the map on the table. “There have been reports of suspicious activity near the Shrieking Shack. I’ll need volunteers to investigate—discreetly, of course.”

     Y/N straightened slightly, her interest piqued. Sirius could see the determination in her eyes, the way she was already considering the assignment. But before she could speak, Remus gave her a subtle nudge with his elbow.

     “Don’t,” he murmured, his tone light but pointed.

     She shot him a look, half annoyed, half amused. Sirius felt a twinge of something—jealousy, irritation, he wasn’t sure—as he watched the exchange. They had their own unspoken language, a bond that had formed over years of shared experiences and trust.

     The meeting dragged on, Dumbledore moving from one topic to the next. Y/N’s frustration simmered beneath the surface, evident in the way she tapped her fingers against the table or shifted in her seat. Sirius found it hard to focus. His attention kept drifting to her—to the way her hair caught the candlelight, the way her brow furrowed in concentration.

      And then there were the little things, the details only he seemed to notice: the way her lips pressed together when she was deep in thought, the soft sigh she let out when something annoyed her.

     By the time the meeting adjourned, Y/N had reached her limit. She stood abruptly, muttering something about needing fresh air.

     Sirius watched her go, his eyes lingering on the way her hair swayed as she walked. He wondered if she realized how captivating she was, if she had any idea how much space she occupied in his thoughts.

     “You’re not very subtle, you know,” Remus said, breaking the silence.

     Sirius turned to him, frowning. “What are you on about?”

     Remus smirked, his tone dry. “You’ve been staring at her all night.”

     “I wasn’t staring,” Sirius said quickly, too quickly.

     “Right,” Remus said, gathering his things. “Just try not to make it so obvious next time.”

     Sirius let out a huff of irritation, running a hand through his hair. 

     But it was hard to look away.

     As the room emptied, Sirius stayed behind, slumping back in his chair. The candlelight flickered, casting shadows across the walls. He closed his eyes, letting out a low sigh.

     The truth was, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. He’d tried—Merlin, he’d tried—but she was always there, lingering in the back of his mind. Her voice, her smile, the way she carried herself with so much confidence and determination.

━━━━━━━•✧°•°𓅦°•°✧•━━━━━━━

     The cold outside felt like it seeped into her bones as soon as she stepped through the door, the chill from the air making Y/N pull her coat tighter around her. She had rushed out earlier, frustrated with the meeting and the constant back-and-forth of words that never seemed to result in any real action. But now, standing alone in the cold yard of Grimmauld Place, she realized she’d left her coat and bag behind in the rush.

     With a resigned sigh, she turned back toward the house, the heavy wooden door creaking slightly as she entered. The warmth of the house immediately wrapped around her, but it wasn’t enough to shake the unease still lingering in her chest. She moved quickly through the entryway, making her way back to the sitting room where she had left her belongings.

     The house was eerily quiet now. The voices, the laughter, the bustling of the meeting—it had all vanished. The flickering candlelight in the sitting room seemed to magnify the silence, making everything feel still.

     She paused when she saw him.

     Sirius was sitting at the table, the same spot where the Order meeting had been held just a short while ago. His elbows rested on the edge of the table, his hands folded loosely in front of him, and his gaze was distant. He hadn’t noticed her entrance yet, his focus still on some faraway thought.

     Y/N’s steps slowed as she studied him for a moment, unsure of what to make of the stillness that seemed to surround him. He didn’t appear to have noticed her yet, his focus still on something she couldn’t see.

     She cleared her throat softly, breaking the quiet.

     Sirius looked up at the sound, his gray eyes meeting hers immediately, the hint of a smile pulling at his lips. For a moment, they just stared at each other, the weight of the past few hours hanging between them.

     “Forgot my coat,” Y/N said, her voice a little more subdued than usual as she gestured toward the chair where she had left her things.

     Sirius nodded, sitting up straighter in his seat. “You left in a bit of a hurry,” he said, a wry smile on his face. “Cold out there.”

     Y/N glanced down at her coat, then at him. “I guess I didn’t think about the cold.”

     “Would’ve figured you for someone who’d remember that,” he teased, but there was something softer in his voice now.

     Y/N stepped forward, picking up her coat from the chair. As her fingers brushed against the fabric, she hesitated. The frustration she had felt during the meeting had yet to leave her. The weight of Dumbledore’s decisions, the helplessness of their situation, had settled deep within her.

     Sirius observed her, his gaze softening. The silence between them was now something different, something more reflective. "You alright?" he asked quietly, his voice devoid of teasing now, the softness lingering in his words.

     “I’ll be fine,” she said lightly, tugging her coat tighter around her shoulders. “I just... I need to clear my head.”

     Sirius raised an eyebrow, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You look like you could use a drink. How about you stay for a bit?”

     Y/N hesitated. She knew what he was offering: a brief escape, a chance to let their shoulders down after the weight of the meeting. It was a kindness, one she rarely turned down when offered, but she wasn’t sure she was in the mood for conversation—at least, not the kind he seemed to want.

     She smoothed a hand over her coat, then met his gaze. "I don’t want to be a bother.”

     A small chuckle escaped him, though it didn’t reach his eyes the way it usually did. He was trying, she could see that, but there was a quiet undercurrent in his voice now, one that didn’t have the usual playfulness. It was something else—something deeper.

     “You’re not a bother. You never are.” He paused, watching her closely, as though he were searching for something behind her guarded expression. “Come on. Let’s just... have a drink. Relax a little. Please.”

     Y/N could feel the hesitation in her chest, that resistance she’d built around herself, but she also knew she didn’t want to go back to her flat alone—not after tonight. Not when she could still feel the sharp sting of everything they had just discussed lingering in her mind. Maybe, just maybe, a drink with Sirius would help take the edge off.

     She sighed, stepping away from the doorframe. “Alright. Just one drink.”

     Sirius’s smile, though small, was genuine. It reached his eyes this time, and for a brief moment, Y/N caught a glimpse of something in his expression—a flicker of hope or perhaps relief. But then he masked it again, as he always did, with that ever-present, charismatic ease.

     “Excellent,” he said, gesturing toward the kitchen. “I’ll let you pick the poison. But if you say Firewhisky, I’m warning you, I’ll be pouring myself a double.”

     Y/N shook her head as she followed him through the hall. “I’m not in the mood for something that strong,” she replied, though she couldn’t hide the slight smile that tugged at her lips.

     He led the way into the kitchen. It was a small space, cozy even in its slightly outdated decor. Y/N had always thought there was something oddly comforting about the kitchen in Grimmauld Place—it was a place that felt lived in, not cold and sterile like the rest of the house.

     He moved to the cupboard and pulled out a bottle of something dark, his fingers brushing over it in a way that suggested familiarity. “How about this?” he asked, turning to her with a raised eyebrow. “A little bit of something to take the edge off without turning us into complete wrecks.”

     Y/N smiled at the offer. “I’ll try it. But I’m holding you to your word—just one drink.”

     “Of course,” he replied smoothly, though there was an edge to his voice now, a quiet sincerity. “I’m not trying to get you drunk, Y/N. I just thought... after everything today, maybe a bit of peace wouldn’t hurt.”

     He poured them both a generous measure of the amber liquid, handing her the glass with a soft smile. She accepted it, their fingers brushing ever so slightly as she took it, and she was suddenly very aware of how close they were. Sirius’s presence always had this magnetic pull on her. Even now, as he leaned back against the counter, watching her with those dark eyes of his, she felt something shift in the air around them.

     “So, what did you think of the meeting?” he asked, his voice low and steady, but she could hear the underlying edge of exhaustion in his words. He was tired. They all were. But Sirius... Sirius had always worn his exhaustion differently. He carried it with a certain grace, a way of making it look effortless when it was anything but.

     Y/N shrugged, taking a small sip of her drink. “It’s the same as always. We talk strategy, we pretend like we know what we’re doing, and we leave with the same uncertainty as when we came in.”

     “Yeah,” Sirius muttered, his eyes darkening as he swirled his drink. “The war doesn’t exactly give us much to work with, does it?”

     Y/N looked at him, her gaze lingering on his face. There was something about the way he said it, like he had seen the world through darker lenses than most. She couldn’t deny that part of her was fascinated by that—by the depth of everything he had been through. And yet, there was always a part of him that seemed so light, so full of life. It was that contrast that both intrigued and unsettled her.

     “I think we’re all just waiting for the next bombshell to drop,” she said softly, her eyes not meeting his. “And in the meantime, we try to keep it together.”

     Sirius watched her closely, his eyes fixed on the movement of her lips as she slowly sipped her drink. His gaze lingered, and for a moment, he forgot about everything—about the weight of the meeting, about the ever-present tension of the war. It was just her, sitting across from him, and the soft glow of the kitchen lights casting shadows across her face. His heart seemed to skip a beat as he noticed the way the soft candlelight made her eyes shine, the way the curve of her lips looked even more inviting with every sip.

     Y/N felt his gaze before she saw it. The weight of his attention pressed on her, as though his eyes were tracing every line of her face, every small movement. It made her heart beat a little faster, a warmth spreading through her chest despite the cool air around them. She looked up over the rim of her glass, meeting his gaze. His dark eyes were soft, but there was a flicker of something deeper, something more intense. Something she hadn’t noticed before—or maybe she had, but had ignored.

     “What is it, Sirius?” she asked, her voice teasing but with a subtle undercurrent of curiosity. “Do I have something on my face?”

     Sirius blinked, caught off guard for a moment. He cleared his throat and shook his head, trying to shake off the lingering thoughts. But the truth slipped out before he could stop it.

     “No,” he said softly, “just thinking... you’re beautiful.”

     Y/N’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, a small laugh escaping her lips. She set the glass down on the counter and crossed her arms, her gaze locking onto his. “Really?” she said with a playful smile. “You’re not so bad yourself, you know.”

     Sirius chuckled, though there was a touch of nervousness beneath the laugh. The air between them seemed to shift, the tension thickening, and for a brief moment, he forgot all about the age gap that had kept him at bay for so long. The difference in their years had been a wall in his mind, one he had built to keep things at arm's length. But now, standing here with her, so close, so real, it felt like that wall was crumbling away piece by piece.

     He leaned forward slightly, his voice low and rough. “You know, I’ve been thinking about something for a while, and I’m not sure if I should say it.” His heart was hammering in his chest, the words threatening to spill out before he could stop them. “But... would you want to kiss me?”

     Y/N’s breath caught in her throat at the question. It was so direct, so unguarded. And it was like the entire world seemed to stop for a heartbeat. She blinked, the shock of it mixing with something else—something warmer, something she hadn’t been expecting. She felt her pulse quicken, her eyes flicking to his lips before she caught herself.

     For a moment, she said nothing. Then, slowly, her lips curved into a teasing smile, the spark of mischief flickering in her eyes. “Why wouldn’t I?”

     Sirius didn’t need any more encouragement. The restraint he had held onto for so long—the years of wondering, of doubting—slipped away in that moment. He moved closer, his hands coming up to gently cup her face, and then, without another word, he leaned in, his lips brushing against hers.

The kiss was soft at first, but it wasn’t long before the gentle pressure of his lips grew more urgent, more insistent, as though the need to be close to her had been building for far too long. Y/N responded in kind, her hands finding their way to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as she deepened the kiss.

     Sirius let out a soft groan as he felt her pull him closer, her body pressed against his. The intensity of the kiss surged, and he could taste the warmth of the alcohol on her lips, the tang of it mixing with the sweetness of her kiss. His hands roamed to her back, pulling her flush against him, his breath quickening as he kissed her deeper, harder, the world spinning around them.

     “Y/N...” he muttered against her lips, his voice thick with desire. “You’re... heavenly.”

     Y/N’s heart was racing now, her hands tracing the lines of his chest, feeling the muscles beneath his shirt, the heat radiating from his skin. She had never imagined this—never imagined that the distance between them could close so quickly, so completely. But now, with him so close, with his lips on hers, she couldn’t imagine wanting anything else.

     She pulled back just enough to catch her breath, her lips tingling from the intensity of the kiss. Her eyes were heavy-lidded, her gaze locked on his. “Sirius...” she breathed, her voice barely a whisper, but thick with emotion. “Kiss me again.”

     Sirius didn’t need any more prompting. He kissed her again, this time with a desperation that was new—raw and hungry. His hands slid down to her waist, pulling her closer as he kissed her with a depth that left them both breathless. The kiss was no longer soft. It was passionate, consuming, as though every doubt, every fear, was being kissed away in that one moment.

     He muttered a few curses, his lips trailing down to her neck, tasting the soft skin there. “God, Y/N... you don’t know what you do to me.” His voice was rough, strained, as he nipped gently at her skin, sending shivers down her spine.

     Y/N gasped, her fingers threading through his hair as she tilted her head back to give him better access. His lips were on her neck, hot and insistent, his kisses leaving a trail of fire in their wake. She couldn’t stop herself. She didn’t want to. Every part of her was alive with the sensation of him, the taste of him, the warmth of his body against hers.

     The kiss deepened once more, and without thinking, Sirius picked her up, his arms wrapping around her waist as he pressed her back against the wall. The sudden movement surprised her, but it only made the moment more intense, more real. She gasped, her legs wrapping around his waist instinctively, and he groaned at the closeness, at the feeling of her body against his.

     His lips moved down her neck, kissing her in slow, deliberate strokes, his breath hot against her skin as he whispered her name. “Y/N...” he murmured again, as though trying to make sure she was still with him, still there. “You’re... perfect.”

     Her heart raced as he kissed her neck, his lips trailing over the sensitive skin there. She couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. She only knew that she wanted more.

     When their kiss finally broke, both of them panting for air, they slid to the floor. Sirius’s head rested against her shoulder.

     Slowly he sat up, his hands still holding her waist. He looked at her, his dark eyes filled with a mixture of longing and something else—something deeper.

     “I was... worried,” he confessed, his voice low, vulnerable in a way she had never heard before. “Worried about the age difference. About whether you’d... feel the same. It’s always been in the back of my mind.”

     Y/N’s heart softened at his words, and she placed a hand gently on his cheek, brushing her thumb over the stubble there. “Sirius, I don’t care about that,” she said softly. “I’ve never even thought of it.”

     He leaned in to kiss her again, but this time, it was only a soft graze, a reminder of how easily he could lose himself in her.

     “You’re incredible,” he murmured, his voice rough with the emotions he could never fully hide. “So damn beautiful, so bloody lovely...” He chuckled softly, a spark of mischief lighting in his eyes. “It’s maddening, really.”

     Y/N’s chest fluttered at his words, at the vulnerability that she could hear in his voice. She leaned in, gently kissing the corner of his mouth, her lips lingering for a moment longer than expected. “I’m really glad you convinced me to stay for a drink,” she whispered, her fingers gently tracing the line of his jaw.

     Sirius’s breath caught at her words, and for a moment, he looked as though he might say something else, but instead, he moved, his hand rested on her leg, a soft touch that conveyed so much more than words could. Then, slowly, he shifted again, lying down with his head in her lap, the two of them surrounded by the quiet of the kitchen.

     He gazed up at her, his eyes filled with a kind of wonder, a touch of awe. “You’re so perfect, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice low and warm. “I can’t believe I’m here with you. I’ve wanted this. Wanted you. For so long.”

     Y/N blushed, a soft smile curling on her lips. She gently ran her fingers through his hair, enjoying the warmth of the moment.

     Sirius let out a breath, as though he’d been holding it for far too long. His lips turned upward in a small, tender smile. And for a long moment, they stayed like that—him lying on her lap, her fingers in his hair, the weight of everything unspoken and everything new hanging between them, untold but not needed.

[shnowyfox]

Jollyformers AU (

so basically i turned the holiday themed au. i haven't had the time to flesh it out obviously. TFONE megop regardless of this au is Last Christmas by Wham!

lore! so instead of cogs they have sleigh bells! usually worn via a collar though harnesses are worn as well to hold more bells that are decorative only. Idk what im doing with transformation yet but i think either it's completely replaced by the bell's allowing flight, or, transformation into creatures to pull the sleigh (basically everyone has a beast alt, deer and ungulates being the most common) Optimus obviously being a reindeer, megatron (krampus) is a goat to fit with his krampus thing, b-127 (glee-127, Badassaclaus) is supposed to be elf like with his g1 style horns supposed to look like elf ears too but they can be seen as budding antlers as well, and elita I haven't drawn yet but she's either a reindeer too or gazelle. (also considering giraffe with that neck dayum girl)

"Prime" has been replaced with "Claus"

hats are just for jolly good fun. like this whole au. and a bit of religious healing. anything goes rlly.

and now a snippet of a rewrite I never was able to finish up. Some of this HAS been retconned. i'm still working at it. mainly the occupation and the backstory stuff. (Context: Bartholomeus is another name for Krampus i dont remember where or when but that's what Megatronus has been substituted with.)

Deer Trax: (chuckles) Okay, fellas! Thanks for the jolly start. You want to give me another one?

Sentry 1: You’re naughty!

Deer Trax: I’ll take that as a no.

Elf-16: (grunts) Hey! Watch where you’re going!

Sentry 1: Oh… What did you say, no-bell?

Elf-16: Sorry, sir, I didn’t mean you. I was referring to the elf who was behind you.

Sentry 2: What? Where’d he go?

Elf-16: The joyous red and blue elf? Has a big grin, merry cheer, gives off a yankee candle scent?

Sentry 1: Where is he?

Elf-16: He went that way.

Sentry 1: When I get my hands on that elf…

Elf-16: All right, all clear.

Deer Trax: Okay, D-16, I may be a little vanilla, but “Yankee ”? That is too far.

Elf-16: Let me guess. Chased out of the cookie jar?

Deer Trax: (laughs) Yeah. I had to jump out of a sleigh this time. Almost got an ouchie (laughs) It was wild.

Elf-16: And digging through fortune cookies is worth getting an ouchie?

Deer Trax: Yes, it is.

Elf-16: I need a new best friend.

Deer Trax: If there are clues in our recorded history that can help locate the North Star, they’re in the cookie jar.

Elf-16: Sentinelf Claus, the Sentinelf Claus, is up in the blizzard right now, risking his merriment for us in search of the Star.

Deer Trax: That’s exactly what I’m doing. I’m trying to help him.

Elf-16: Yeah, okay. (laughs)

Deer Trax: The sooner cookies bake again, the sooner we won’t have to make toys ourselves. Don’t you want to choose your own path, do whatever you want?

Elf-16: We’re toy makers. We make toys, that’s all.

Deer Trax: No, there has got to be something more I can do. I can feel it. (Dentistry?)

Elf-16: Oh, yeah? Like the time you had a “feeling” you could fly without a bell?

Deer Trax: You said you were never gonna mention that again.

Elf-16: Took me three days to dig you out of the snow. Your feelings get you in trouble.

Deer Trax: Yeah, yeah.

Elf-16: Just trust in Sentinelf Claus.

Deer Trax: I do trust in him. Hey, if we did have bells…

Elf-16: I’d fly hooves first into your chest

Deer Trax: I don’t like how fast you answered that. But listen, if you did kick me, I couldn’t give you this awesome Bartholomeus Claus thing I have here. It’s cool. I’ll give it to someone else.

Elf-16: What Bartholomoeus Claus thing?

Deer Trax: Ah, it’s nothing. Just a, you know, mint-condition Bartholomeus Claus sweater, first edition.

Elf-16: (gasps) What?

Deer Trax: If you don’t want it, I can just throw it away.

Elf-16: Throw it away? Don’t… That’s not funny. Let me see.

Deer Trax: Wait. Don’t grab. You’re gonna rip it.

Elf-16: You know, Sentinelf says Bartholomeus was the…

Deer Trax: The kindest Claus to ever live. I know, buddy. Looks good on you.

[fartcushion]

Farter Christmas

Santa sat by the fire in his favourite chair, about to start the second check of the Naughty or Nice list. A formality really, as mistakes were rare and with all the boys and girls being extra good for Christmas, the chance of slipping from Nice to Naughty was extremely low.

As he scrolled through it, he reached a particularly troubling duo. The twins; Bryan and Ryan Miller.

Bryan was the perfect little angel, all year round. His brother, Ryan, on the other hand was a terror. He made it his mission in life to be his brother's biggest bully. He would break his toys, steal his sweets and other acts of cruelty. He was particularly gross in his torture, one of his favourite acts was to take every opportunity to fart on him, especially if he could time it to be in Bryan's face.

Santa tutted, shaking his head. It appeared this year had been no different in the Miller household. Years of giving Bryan what he asked for in his letter, and leaving Ryan only coal had done nothing to teach the lesson. That good girls and boys get presents, and naughty children do not. It was as if for Ryan there was no greater gift than getting to bully his brother.

The boys stopped believing in Santa quite early; Ryan probably never truly believing and willing to assign the coal to his neglectful parents, their pathetic effort to try and change him. Bryan had believed, but as the abuse grew the magic of Christmas lost it's spark. Soon Santa had no power there anymore. Frustrated by his time honoured traditions limiting his influence, he kept an eye on the pair.

--------------------

Years passed and nothing changed as they became adults. Bryan remained good at heart despite the abuse, which only escalated as the pair grew older. But it had taken its toll, he was a lonely and timid man. Ryan stayed rotten to the core, becoming more sadistic as his antics went unchecked.

He used the same bullying tactics to get ahead at work, now he was a top manager. He'd even been able to hire a Personal Assistant, of which he gave the honour to Bryan. Since he had struggled to find work due his shyness, he'd been desperate for anything, which Ryan took full advantage of. Getting 40+ hours a week to fart on his brother, and being paid for it.

In the office on Christmas Eve, as the two readied to finish for the holiday, they were unaware how things were finally about the change.

"It's been great having you work for me this past year, feel like you've been a real asset"

Bbbrrrppp

Ryan let out a fart to emphasize the ass in asset.

A sniffing noise could be heard from under Ryan's desk.

"Do you like working for your brother?"

Bbbrrrrppppppp

*sniff* "Yes, I do, sir. Thank you again for the opportunity "

Ryan let out a final toot before standing up from his desk and releasing his brother who began to crawl out. Ryan reached down and pushed Bryan's face into the seat of his chair so he could enjoy the days scent.

"You're welcome. Now don't forget, even though the office is closed from Boxing Day through New Years, I expect you to come in. I've got some reports I'm behind on so I'll need you to do those for me".

"Of course, sir. I'm happy to do that" Bryan muffled in to the cushion.

"Good boy. Right, I'm off. Make sure you have the farts out of that chair before you go. I'll see you tomorrow at mom and dad's. Don't forget to bring my gifts for them".

"I won't, sir". Not lifting his face from the chair, Bryan called after his brother as he was heading for the door. "Erm, sir, I'm sorry to ask. But...I was told earlier this year I'd be getting a Christmas bonus. I haven't heard anything though"

Ryan smirked, unseen by his brother, and walked back to behind the desk where his downtrodden brother was still dutifully sniffing.

"Oh, hadn't you heard?! I'm sorry to say that the bonuses were cancelled this year. Despite all us managers arguing for them to honoured"

"Oh...I see... That's a shame, I really could have used the money. But, I'm sure you did everything you could".

"I really did, I would appreciate your gratitude for my efforts" and with that Ryan turned his ass to his brother. Bryan, taking the hint, leant forward and kissed his ass.

Pppprrrpppp

For the rest of the night Ryan had been laughing and smirking to himself every time he thought of that moment. His pathetic brother, face down in his chair, believing he'd fought for his bonus. Oh he'd fought alright, he argued that his assistant didnt deserve it, that he missed some key targets and so wasn't viable. Ryan was reminiscing fondly on that brilliant ploy of his as he fell asleep.

In the room there arose such a clatter that Ryan awoke with a start. The room was lit as if by dozens of candles, but none could be seen. But in the room there was a large man. Dressed in a luxurious red velvet suit, with white fur trim and gold buttons. On top of his head a hat of the same cloth. Ryan could see him from his bed, but nothing else, as he was unable to move. As he struggled and writhed, the man in the room just let out a chuckle.

"Oh, hohoho, you won't get out of that"

Ryan lifted his head as much as he could and caught sight of large ribbons wrapped around him, mummifying him.

"Little Ryan Miller, all grown up now. You were always a very naughty boy. You made your brother suffer as children and now as adults. I didn't help when you were young, and I have regretted that,l dearly, so I'm here now to right that wrong".

"Fuck you talking about, you crazy weirdo" Ryan screamed. Thrashing in his constraints. "Bryan, is that you? Is this some ridiculous attempt to stand up to me?"

The man stepped closer and Ryan could see it was not his brother in disguise. His white long beard was real. The man was old, though still fresh faced and rosy cheeked, but his eyes gave away his age. Windows to a tired, ancient soul.

"Noo, Ryan. It's me, Santa, and I'm here to teach you a very important lesson".

Santa moved to the side of the bed. "I thought a fitting punishment would be to give you a taste of your own medicine.

Santa stepped up on to the bed, Ryan caught sight of his large shiny black leather boots. As Santa stood over him, Ryan could see the bulk of the man. His gut stretching the coat. He watched as the man turned around, his trousers pulled tight across his large, fat ass, as if threatening to tear.

Ryan desperately struggled against the bindings as Santa lowered himself down. His ass fully engulfing Ryan's face. His cheeks pooled over the side of Ryan's head, on to the pillows.

Muffled cries came from beneath, Santa just wriggled his ass back and forth until the sound stopped. Lifting himself back up off his victim he looked behind him, Ryan had passed out.

The cold air woke Ryan, chilly wind biting at his nose. He opened his eyes, confused by what was happening. Had that been a dream? No it couldn't have been. He was clearly outside, looking up at the night's sky. He couldn't move still and worse now his head seemed to be in a box or something, he could turn slightly, but only enough before hitting the edge of the window he was looking through. His nose and mouth sticking out in to the air. Where the fuck was he, and where was the crazy man who thought he was Santa? Ryan thought.

Not long passed before he heard footsteps. Crunching of boots on snow.

Then the man's face reappeared, looking down at him.

"Oh good, you're awake now. We did quite a few towns while you were out, I was worried you'd miss out on too much of my punishment".

"LET ME OUT YOU PSYCHOPATH!"

"Now, now, Ryan. Name calling is very naughty behaviour. I told you, I'm here to teach you a lesson". He moved out of view for a second, he climbed up causing Ryan's prison to tilt under his weight.

Santa shuffled in to view again, once more his ass in Ryan's field of view.

"I had the elves work on a special sleigh for me. Which you're in now. This hole you're looking through is in the seat. I'm going to take you with me as I deliver presents. Your face is going to be the perfect cushion"

As Ryan started to cry for help, Santa sat down. His wide rear filling the sleigh seat, his cheeks parting to allow Ryan's nose into his crack. The material of his trousers was soft on Ryan's skin. The warmth was a welcome change from the cold air. But the stench was not.

Santa chuckled to himself, his plan finally being enacted. Sometimes you just had to punish the wicked, he'd learned that too late. He set the reindeers off and spoke calmly. His magic allowed Ryan to hear perfectly despite the whistling wind and the large ass covering his face.

"Shall we begin, Ryan. Don't bother answering, I can't hear you. I'm going to go down this special naughty list I made for you. It lists every misdeed you've done. For each one I read out I'm going to fart in your face. You like doing that to other people don't you, do you find it as funny when you're on the receiving end?"

Pffftt

"There's a taster for you".

The airy fart hit Ryan, he couldn't escape it.

"Now, I know what you're thinking. There's no way I can fart enough to cover everything on the list. Well good news, I'm about to be eating a lot of cookies, mince pies and all the other treats boys and girls leave out for me around the world. Oh and don't get me started on what all that milk does to me! Mrs Claus is going to be thrilled this year to not have to put up with all my gas. Now I have my little sniffer here to take it all" Santa wriggled his ass back and forth. The seat was built well; Santa's weight was held off enough that Ryan wouldn't pass out from suffocation, but it meant his nose would still bury deep. Deeper with each wriggle.

"Right, here we go, let's start with this recent one. You stole your brother's Christmas bonus! Oh naughty naughty"

Pppprrrbbbb

Ryan heard his crime read out and the echoing rip of the fart that followed. He was furious. But all he could think about was the odour. It smelt like boiled sprouts.

"That's it, breath it in, my farts are as rotten as your behaviour. I may be magical but my farts still stink, boy. Remember how you cancelled the office Christmas party so you could make up for the losses from your poor performance"

BBBBPPPTTTT

"This is for making Bryan work next week when he isn't being paid, again to cover your ass"

BBBBBBFFFFFTTTTT

Ryan didn't think he could take much more of this. He was desperate for fresh air, all he could smell was the pungent sweaty ass and then a sudden rush of foul stench, that hissed, boomed and ripped from the hole millimetres from his nose.

Suddenly cold air rushed and the darkness was replaced with pale light as Santa stood up to deliver his next present.

"Please" Ryan pleaded. "Please, no more"

"Oh, Ryan, you haven't learned your lesson yet, you just don't want to accept your punishment. Now shush". Magically a bauble gagged his mouth, preventing him saying anything more.

"I don't want you making noise and waking the children", and off Santa went to make the delivery.

Before long Ryan was back under the warmth of his ass. As they were now in a large town the stops were frequent, so he got more air breaks between farts. But Santa had chosen particularly heinous crimes of his to justify particularly bad farts. They started to smell like spoilt milk.

"Remember when you threw you brothers college acceptance letter in the bin and told him they rejected him, all so you didn't lose your punching bag"

Ppppprrrrrrrrbbbbbbbb

'"That time you slept with the girl he liked..

Bbbpptt

In his bed!"

Ppppbbbbfffttt

The night passed on. As Santa read his list he let fart after fart out on Ryan's face. The smell changed with each country's food offering, but it was always vile.

”You sold his puppy and told your parents he let it escape"

Bbbbrrrrbbppp

"In front of all his friends at your birthday party you made him eat cake you'd farted on"

Pppbbtt prrrrbbbb

"The next time he made a friend and invited him over, you stuffed the kids head in the toilet, and he never spoke to Bryan again!"

Pprrrrppp

The ball gag was aching Ryan's jaw. His nose was sore from being crushed up against the hole for so long as Santa had truly mastered wriggling it deep up in there.

His body ached from lying still in the small prison. He thought hard about each and every act Santa read out, trying to find an shred of remorse within himself. Maybe if he could convince Santa he was sorry he'd end this. But it just wasn't there. He was better than everyone. His brother was pathetic. He fucking loved having him as his bitch. Each fart Santa unleashed just made him angrier, and he started plotting what he'd do to Bryan when he was free.

More time passed, a blink of the eye for the world but hours for Santa and Ryan.

At the next and final stop, Santa sighed. Shuffled over he looked down at Ryan through the hole. His face sad.

"Oh Ryan, this isn't working is it. I know. I see you when you're sleeping and I know when you're awake. Do you think I can't tell what you're thinking" he showed Ryan the list he'd been reading off. "Every time you plan revenge on Bryan it appears on the list as a potential. I dont think this is going to work out the way I hoped".

Ryan did his best to try and hide the smug satisfaction he was feeling. At least this the old fat man knew he'd been beat, and would take him home.

"But I can't let you go. I didn't help Bryan before, but I can help him now. You've been a great sniffer for me tonight. I've not smelt any of those farts. Not holding them in means for the first time in decades I'm not feeling all bloated, makes it much easier to get down those chimneys. No, I'm sorry. But if I can't let you go for risk you'll hurt the innocent, you'll have to stay with me. My naughty little fart sniffer. Maybe in time poems will be written, songs sung and books wrote that tell the cautionary tale of what happens to the naughty children if they don't learn to be good before they grow up"

Ryan couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"You'll come to the North Pole with me now, I'll use my time magic to freeze you until the next Christmas, and we'll go again. Maybe one day you'll learn the lesson, I guess that's up to you".

With another sigh, Santa slid back over Ryan's face. Covering it one more time. Letting out the odd fart, only this time Santa didn't bother to read from his crime list, it wasn't needed now. He was just here to sniff farts.

Santa stopped projecting his voice to Ryan, leaving him to the rattling of the sleigh and constant echoing of his farts. Taking the reigns he urged on the reindeer.

"Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!

On, Comet! on Cupid! on, Donder and Blitzen!...AND SNIFFER!"

[randomfoggytiger]

"At Least Until the Weather Breaks"

A very Merry Christmas to you, @cecilysass: hope this piece grants you a fraction of the joy your work has endlessly given me~.

*-*-*-*-*

Post Agua Mala reflections.

*-*-*-*-*

“Agent Scully, where are you?” 

Perhaps Skinner would be surprised. He had been, mere days ago, when she and Mulder showed up outside of Kersh’s office, unity shed like snake skin. He'd been doubly surprised, she knew, when Mulder guided her out later, hand once again possessively at her back. She wasn't going to explain to Skinner then-- as she walked away, a hair from her partner’s shoulder-- why she relented. Why she had deflected Kersh in Mulder’s defense-- “Sir, I wouldn’t bet against him”, with snarling control-- and left both outsiders to stew and wonder in her wake. 

And she wouldn’t now. The stretch in her partnership was no longer taut, but the vibration still rang. Spender’s son was dead, but both X-Files inmates still imagined a rivulet of his blood drip, dripping under Mulder’s reclaimed desk. Arguments were shelved, weapons set aside, and peace wordlessly reestablished before they’d left Kersh’s office. Ease was repairing itself in the mindless act of feeling each other’s presence as they packed and toted and unpacked mementos of their past in unison. They trusted, once again, to the process of symbiosis, turning from fiery conspiracy to watery mystery as unto salvation.  

“In Florida, Sir.” 

“In Florida? Wasn’t there a record hurricane down there?” An expected pause. “Is Mulder down there with you?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Another pause. A long sigh: Skinner unable to discern them. “As soon as the skies clear, I need you and Agent Mulder on a plane and back in D.C. We have a meeting scheduled to discuss both your transfers.” 

A mere formality, everyone knew, for the Board’s pride. “I’ll let him know, Sir.” 

Scully ended the call, and was about to walk away from the burning Floridian sun when her cellphone rang. 

Leroy Walter Villarreal Suarez Jr. 

No kidding.

*-*-*-*-*

It was surprising, she owned: Mulder with flat bangs, Mulder with pater glasses. Mulder smoking. 

“Ah, everyone did it then,” Dales waved, warm and chiding. Never a thought in his soggy, besotted brain that she, too, had a naughty vice once. “What surprised me most was the ring. Everyone smoked, everyone had cheap haircuts-- everyone wore rings even. But I’d never met a guy who wore one for fun. Have you, Agent Scully?”

“Mm,” she replied, lips curling around a plastic cup Dales must have bought in bulk. Her partner with a ring. Her partner, gunshy of a normal life, aping a veneer of normalcy. Because that’s what he’d been doing, she was positive:  one look at his face now-- eyes darting, shoulders scrunching, lips pouting in mock distraction-- let her know that that act, whatever it had been, had been for himself. 

Diana Fowley, Scully winced, had watched him mime this normalcy and still left to climb the ladder. She’d smoothed his flat bangs and wiped away the lipstick on his trusting cheek and left to destroy the sameness of other women’s lives. 

Yet, here it is again, this large and fathomless thing between us: the root of Skinner’s puzzlement, the unconscious understanding and trust-- she shoved reliance quickly away-- that flowed too forgivingly between them. An unfathomable thing that clouded over when their ideals and faults clashed: her partner underestimating her abilities, she underestimating his loyalties. 

How could I forget, Scully had wondered as Mulder droned from her voicemail, “Hey, Scully, just got a call from Arthur Dales-- he says there’s a sea monster that’s just blown into Florida. If we catch the last flight tonight, we might be able to touch down before the state’s under water.” How could she forget that he’d always fought her on her instincts? On her own deathbed, when the cancer was destroying her from the inside out, he’d been right about Skinner; he’d been right about many, many more things than Skinner. But he’d been wrong about Diana; and she’d been wrong about wedging the Gunmen in her confrontation. They’d both been wrong, and right, and simultaneously right and wrong before; but not on the day the world almost ended. And, though there were still eight boxes to be unpacked, important reports to be typed up, churlish review boards to prepare for, Dana Scully had lifted her phone from its jack and called him back. “Mulder, a hurricane?”-- Mulder, I’m in. “Scully, a sea monster”-- Scully, like old times, old roads: we find the sea monster, we find each other. 

“Well… that’s where you’re wrong, Mr. Dales,” Mulder argued, fidgeting on the couch, trying to find a comfortable spot on this mummified-turned-humidified, Floridian-ified cloth bag. 

“Oh? You know another guy?” 

“My mother.” 

“Oh.” That must have made sense. “She raised hoity toity?”

“I was.” 

The crash of realization was so quick and so visceral that it struck her clammy skin like lightning: the son of broken, reclusive Mrs. Mulder, reconstructing his memories and muddying them with her excuses. His mother keenly avoiding the past; Mulder bending over backwards to appease and soothe before snapping upright and demanding the truth. Mulder wearing an older man’s glasses and taking up an older generation's quest and smoking his father’s cigarettes-- leaving off the nasty habit before Scully’s time, substituting with his father’s charm against nightmares. Her partner, clinging to the past while trying to find where he belonged.

These thoughts should depress; but they didn’t-- couldn’t, after she’d clung to Mulder’s hand in the torrent, tracked a sea monster by his side, and brought a new life into this large and complicated, small and simple world. Not after he’d given up quibbling over her victories. 

“’Hoity toity’?” she repeated instead, waiting expectantly for him to turn around and smile over the absurdity of their reality. 

*-*-*-*-*

“So, we drivin’ home?” 

They were situating in their storm-damaged rental, Dales’s head and arm swaying heartily from their rearview mirrors whenever he deemed appropriate. He’d asked if they'd wanted to keep a plastic cup each-- a noblesse oblige memento of the trailer park, Scully assumed. They’d both declined.

Mulder was not in the passenger seat, despite the wounds peppering his neck: dressing pulled up to his jaw, he’d chosen to obstinately pretend nothing was amiss. Not wanting to come down from the high of their experience, it was in his best interest-- the profound clench of his teeth telegraphed-- to ignore present uncomfortable reality.  

“If the wind kicks up, we could borrow an umbrella and fly back to the office.” She suppressed a smile at her partner’s chuckle, a delight still freshly cloaked in relief. 

“We’d have investigated her if she existed. You know that, Scully.” 

She did-- could imagine a chilly trip to England, Mulder reveling in the charm of ancient, storied folktale and superstition. Mutually exploring a turf that was no longer his. Oxford rising from the poetic fog, his college memories beating her childhood glimpses. He was so American she often forgot that he, too, traveled across the ocean. 

“I read the books when I was a child.” 

“Books?”

“Mm hm. A series,” she admitted, eager to share something from her past. Perhaps from heatstroke, perhaps to bolster the burgeoning camaraderie. 

Though why this memory she didn’t know: the tail end of one summer spent cooped up inside, Charlie coughing up a lung in the other room as her temperature stayed stubbornly high. Melissa, sick of calling her a big baby, convincing Bill to leave his friends to grab Dana a book from the library “so she’ll stop whining”. Her oldest brother spending the next two weeks biking back and forth as the book bug slowly infected the convalescents. Their fights, their frustration; their relief on returning to school.  

“I read the series religiously one year. Memorized whole passages by heart and recited them every opportunity I could.” Scully watched his head bob vaguely while he checked the gas and turned to reverse. “I was trying to prove a point, I suppose: my family loved the movie, and. And I wanted to… stand out.” Dana, you’re such a square. Dana, you’re such a pill. Dana, why won't you just admit you like it? 

“Stand out?” His eyes were curious, darting her way whenever the road could spare them. 

“Mm.” Was elaboration necessary, between them? She didn’t think so. Not for another while, anyway. “But when I went off to college, things changed. Everything was so new and so different…. It was isolating, in a way. It drove me back to the past.” 

Silence permeated as clumps of wrecked and ruined trees swept by. She needed to start calling local motels to see if there were rooms open. She needed to call her mom. She needed to turn off her phone and sleep until life no longer fuzzed at the edges. 

“What did you do?” Mulder prodded, wistfully. 

“Well….” Scully sighed, retracing the weave of her thoughts. “I bummed a ride to the local video store and rented it, over and over, when things got too lonely. That’s how I made it the first two years.” 

He said nothing, just slowly nodded as they changed lanes. 

*-*-*-*-*

There was nothing but time, now, to reflect-- something she'd purposefully avoided since that sordid night in the Gunmen's lair. Everything then was too muddled, too raw and dangerously close, to think about, let alone understand. But the lull of conversation, the empty silence between phone calls, the endless stretch of waterlogged, abandoned roads yawned and stretched and plucked an abandoned thought from her unconscious without notice.

She’d led the way to Kersh's door, stayed a half step always in front of her partner, pursed her lips at Skinner’s greeting, hedged determinedly away from Mulder’s closeness. A contrast to their ally ship the previous night: her eyes peering ahead, searching the dark for signs of life; his eyes glued to the crushed car she’d driven across the train tracks-- a striking contrast (she shotgun, he side-saddle) to their rote partnership. Smoke and ashes and the corpses of deceiving families looming over their heads like a conscience. Skinner hadn’t expected the battle to extend to their relationship; and she’d walked expeditiously away from his questioning eyes, guiding them both to Kersh's desk with brittle dignity. 

Neither had spoken to each other while A.D. Kersh spit and A.D. Kersh swore and Jeffrey Spender resigned and left them the X-Files. Perched in a getaway corner of the room, Skinner had missed their wordless exchange, the psychic transference they were capable of since that first fateful day in Mulder’s office: his softened stutter, a sorrowful admission of guilt; her twitching eyebrow and slackened mouth, an acknowledgement of his admission. Fault confessed, the breadth of temptation and cowardice became irrelevant in the weight of charred bodies and grave missteps.

It was easier, and harder, to shove it behind them. Eyes followed their backs out and into the hall, down the elevator, and down, down, down into another layer of chaos and death: the body of Jeffrey Spender, expendable in the face of yet another father's disappointment.

At least Bill Mulder had begged, "Forgive me," when he robbed his son of the ultimate truth.

*-*-*-*-*

“Are you still in Florida, Agent Scully?” 

That, or a broiling, humid Twilight Zone. 

They’d been advised off the road by another no-nonsense uniform; and, escape impossible, had panhandled around for a room at the inn. The ones available were of middling quality (save a truly deplorable toilet that was decorated, Pollock-style, with human fluids), but it was better than Mulder’s suggestion to pull off and catch some shuteye in a parking lot. That was too local for her tastes. 

“Yes, Sir-- for another eight hours or so. Agent Mulder has hope that the planes will be up and running by then.” 

“So soon?”

“It is Florida, Sir.” 

Her partner was seated on his single bed, half-listening while madly typing up notes. He looked up, once, before losing interest, deciding instead to abuse the backspace key with a vengeance. 

There was a parallel, she believed, that could be drawn from a neck-deep metaphor and his tender tentacle wounds. As if in sync with her thoughts, he fingered one absently; and winced. 

“Keep in touch, Agent.” 

“Yes, Sir.” Disconnecting the line, Scully debated whether to grab breakfast from a vending machine or sink, exhausted, onto her bed and never get up. The room’s smell-- a clash of coastal mist and dead algae, death and stymied life-- decided her: another second here and she’d have to think about mold. “I’m going to grab some food.” 

Mulder looked up, fingers stilled, hungry hope brewing in his eyes. “Change’s in my wallet.” How they even had wallets after the last twenty-four hours, Scully couldn’t venture a guess. Then again, their odds had been remarkably high lately. 

About time.

“I’m buying.” She was halfway out the door, shoes scrubbing against old, fuzzy carpet fibers, before his voice stopped her. 

“Scully. Thanks.” 

It was such a small gesture-- one that shouldn’t have moved her as much as it did. But Scully’s eyes stung, and her hands trembled as they tightened on the door knob. Tucking her head, she swallowed back a shaky breath; and, turning, swept her eyes around the room, once, for composure. “We slew the monster, Mulder.” 

He slowly smiled; slowly blinked; slowly seemed to take her in from head to toe. Slowly nodded. 

Giving a tight smile in return, Scully added, “I’ll be back,” before closing the door gently behind her. 

*-*-*-*-*

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

Tagging @today-in-fic, @poangpals.

[nausicaamusiclover20]

Hii, I love so much your fanfics, and I have a request.

It may sound a little silly, but I've had this idea in my head for many days. Could you make a James Hetfield fanfic, maybe in the AFJA or Load/Reload era, that is a knight of a castle? Just like he is the most important knight in the kingdom and all the women in the kingdom love him but he only has eyes for the princess (reader)? And for the king to know that James loves the princess, and wants her to marry James?

Thank you very much, I hope you read my request, I really really love your work! :3

I loved this idea, I hope you like it!❤

A knight's vow

The grand hall of Castle Aldric hummed with the sound of celebration. Noble guests and knights from every corner of the kingdom filled the space, their laughter mingling with the music played by the royal musicians. Yet, despite the joy around me, my mind was elsewhere. My eyes continually found their way to Sir James Hetfield.

He was standing near the hearth with the other knights, his broad shoulders set against the flickering firelight. Tall, powerful, and exuding an aura of strength, he commanded the attention of everyone around him. It wasn’t just his physical presence that drew me in. It was the way his gaze seemed to always find mine across the crowded room. It happened without fail every time we were in the same space — a glance that lingered just a little too long, a silent connection that I had tried to ignore for months.

I had always felt there was something between us. At first, I thought it was simply my imagination. After all, he was Sir James Hetfield, the most revered knight in the kingdom, beloved by all the noblewomen. Why would someone like him even glance my way, let alone give me the kind of attention that made my heart flutter every time he looked in my direction?

But tonight, something felt different. The subtle smiles and fleeting glances seemed to carry more weight than usual. My heart raced with the unspoken possibility that maybe, just maybe, he felt the same way about me.

"You’ve been staring at Sir James all night," my father’s voice broke through my thoughts, pulling me back to reality. I looked at him in surprise.

"Father, I wasn’t—"

"You don’t have to pretend," King Aldric said, his eyes twinkling with a knowing smile. "I’ve been watching you both. It’s clear to anyone paying attention that Sir James cares for you."

My breath caught in my throat. "Father, I don’t—"

"Don’t be coy with me, Y/N," my father chuckled softly. "I see the way he watches you. And you—well, your heart is far from indifferent to him."

I blushed, not knowing what to say. I had long suspected that there was something more between us, but hearing my father speak of it so plainly made it seem too real, too impossible. Sir James had long been the kingdom’s hero, and I was the princess. Our lives had always been kept apart by duty, and the idea that such a man could truly care for me beyond my title seemed too far-fetched to believe.

"I know what you’re thinking," my father said, his voice lowering with the weight of his words. "You think it can’t be true, that someone like Sir James, a knight of such renown, could have feelings for you. But you’re wrong. He’s been loyal to this kingdom, to me, for years. But the loyalty he holds for you goes deeper than any oath he has sworn. He loves you, Y/N."

My heart hammered in my chest. Could it be true? Did James really… love me? The thought felt like both a dream and a nightmare. What would that mean for us? What would it mean for the kingdom?

"I know what you must be thinking," King Aldric continued, as if reading my mind. "But I’ve seen it in the way he watches you when he thinks no one is looking. He is a man of honor, Y/N. And he’s been waiting for the right moment to ask for your hand. The only thing left is for him to gather the courage to speak to me about it. And when he does, you have my blessing."

I stared at my father, unsure of how to respond. "But… Father, I’m just a princess. What would I mean to someone like him?"

"You are everything to him," my father said, his voice filled with an unusual tenderness. "And you should know, he won’t rest until he has your heart. I’ve already given my blessing, though I haven’t said anything to him. It’s his to ask, not mine."

As my father left to speak with his council, I was left standing there, caught between hope and doubt. Could this truly be happening? Could James — a man whose heart was clearly so full of honor and strength — truly love me, the princess?

The evening continued on, but I could no longer focus on the festivities. The words my father had spoken lingered in my mind, and every time I caught a glimpse of James, it seemed my pulse quickened. Was this truly the moment when everything would change?

As the castle began to empty, and the guests slowly retired to their chambers, the hall quieted down. The cool night air beckoned me, and I stepped onto the balcony, hoping the fresh breeze would calm the storm brewing inside me.

"Princess," came a familiar, deep voice behind me, and my heart skipped a beat. I turned to see Sir James standing just inside the doorway, his towering figure framed by the flickering torchlight. His gaze was steady, his expression unreadable.

"Sir James," I managed to say, my voice barely a whisper. "I wasn’t expecting—"

"I know," he said softly, cutting me off as he stepped closer. "I’ve been waiting for the right time. But now, I can’t wait any longer."

He reached for my hand, and his touch sent a jolt through me, warm and electric. My heart beat in my chest, my mind racing. Was this it? Was this the moment he was going to tell me how he truly felt?

"I’ve fought many battles, Princess," James said, his voice steady but filled with emotion. "I’ve fought for honor, I’ve fought for glory, I’ve fought for the kingdom. But none of those battles mattered like this one. None of them mattered like the battle for your heart."

My breath caught in my throat. His words were so simple, yet they held so much weight. "James," I whispered, unsure of what to say. "I… I don’t understand."

He took a step closer, his gaze never leaving mine. "I’ve kept my feelings hidden for so long, but I can’t anymore. I can’t pretend that what I feel for you is anything but love. I love you, Y/N. And I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to be the one to stand beside you, through everything — no matter the battles we face, no matter the challenges."

My mind spun, disbelief giving way to a warmth I could no longer deny. The man I had admired from afar, the man who seemed so unreachable, had loved me all along. "James," I breathed, feeling the tears well up in my eyes. "I… I never thought you could love me. I never thought it could be real."

He smiled, his thumb brushing gently against my cheek. "I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember, Princess. And I always will."

I felt the tears spill over, but they were tears of joy. "I love you too," I whispered, my voice trembling. "I always have."

The world seemed to fall away as he leaned in, his lips capturing mine in a kiss that spoke of everything we had both kept hidden for so long. The kiss was soft at first, but soon it deepened, as though we were finally letting go of the years of doubt and fear that had kept us apart. In that moment, nothing else mattered. Not the kingdom. Not duty. Just us.

As we pulled away, our foreheads resting against each other, I heard a soft chuckle from behind us. We both turned, and there, standing in the doorway, was my father, King Aldric. He had been watching us from afar, a knowing smile on his face.

"You two have been stubbornly slow, haven’t you?" the king said, his voice warm and amused. "But I suppose there’s no need to wait any longer." He stepped forward, his eyes twinkling. "You have my blessing, Sir James. I’ve been waiting for you to ask.

"

James bowed his head respectfully. "Thank you, Your Majesty."

The king turned to me, his gaze filled with pride. "And you, my daughter, have my full support. You are both meant for one another."

In that moment, everything felt right. The pieces had fallen into place, and for the first time, I truly believed that James and I were destined to be together. With a shared smile, James and I looked at each other, the promise of a future together glowing between us.

And from the shadows, my father watched, his heart full of knowing joy. The knight had claimed his princess, and the kingdom had found its future.

[bossboudicca]

in this essay i will-

my rambles on johnmanny and why i love this rarepair and you should too

first off, that wink. me and mine didn't even notice it at first, and i've seen TP about a million times and the minute i spotted it i think i actually screamed out loud. like yeah right in front of my parents and family let me observe your fond little smirk and then wink at you, like these mfers were playing footsie under the damn table i tell ya.

manny kicking jp by accident, jp like "can i fuckin help you??"

but for real jp is to johnmanny as harry welsh is to winnix. at least to me.

next we have:

manny noticing john the second he walks into a room full of a bunch of other dudes in the exact same clothes with basically the exact same haircut and very similar builds. like his ass was WAITING and WATCHING that doorway for his little boyfriend.

"oH WeLL iF tHeY'Re sO cLoSe WhY DiD'nT hE uSe HiS FiRsT nAmE?"

because half the guys in that room are probably named John, NEXT.

these fond ass looks. also hilarious that they both completely turn their backs on the doorway and do not even notice jp until he's right there lmao. manny was not waiting for his buddies, he was waiting for john specifically.

size difference goes crazy here. manny is so fuckin WIDE jesus

jp like "i am married here is my wife" (i told you he's harry welsh) while john and manny are like hhaha yeah marriage definitely we're totally straight 🙃

manny: "my mom couldn't understand how i could get through high school without that wedding date set"

jp: "i could!"

could understand what jp??? HMMM??? yeah okay bud

bonus: john looking right at manny after jp's comment and manny refusing to make eye contact. read into that what you will

this one is kind of a personal mind palace thing, but i like to think that manny observed this super sweet moment between john and his dad, and really took it upon himself to look out for john when they were deployed. more on this later. *brb crying*

this next one you're just getting a screen recording because a.) i dont wanna gif the whole thing b.) i feel like hearing manny's vocal inflections and stuff is important

manny's obviously gonna be rattled after their first bit of enemy contact, and john is not the only guy with blood on him but manny still immediately did a double take when he saw the blood on john's face.

the way he asks "hey...are you hit?" he dips his head and really looks at john, like yes looking for injuries john may not have noticed but to me it's like he's trying to get john to make eye contact, so he can see if he's mentally okay as well. idk, this seems important to me as manny literally does not even glance at the guy who's actually fuckin shot until john looks over at him.

then manny's little exhale and swallow after john says he's gucci 🥺

and when john stops and stares at the deceased man, manny does too but immediately looks back to john, gauging his reaction. i feel like most of these guys are like "you're physically okay? yeah moving on as i, another marine in this hellscape jungle, have my own issues" but maybe thats just me being ignorant.

and then manny doesn't take his eyes off john for the rest of the scene. also john's tiny little nod at manny, like he knows manny is always overly concerned about him; a little wordless gesture just for him. more on The Nod later. alsdkfjalsdjlsfj

also directly after this:

john: jp go set up on that hill 🙄 manny you dig in next to me 🥰🥰

more touching and staring

quick sidebar: manny and his slutty ass open shirt like sir-

and then john with his big gorgeous brown eyes he is literally a 6 week old puppy why is he in war

next we have Manuel "I Need To Shove Past Everyone So I Can Walk Next To My Boyfriend" Rodriguez

This Look is my all time favorite. ugh i am sick about these two.

and that little hint of sadness in john's eyes like he doesn't wanna let manny go but he's gotta because duty comes first 🥲

so he cracks a little joke and lets manny go and manny looks so crushed and forces himself to smile anyway and ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh his face absolutely sends me into a spiral right here

next up, personal space- dude did you really need to get RIGHT up in john's bubble like that?? (yes, yes he did)

i swear it must be in the hbo war actor manual that you have to look at your male companion's mouth X amount of times

watching chesty on the phone like "yeah but is john okay"

#bigbrowncoweyesquad

sorry this gif looks weird as hell, i cut it up and brightened it because its hard to see through all my tears

so yeah! this is the last time they see each other alive! i am okay!

it was something i didn't notice at first, but it looks like manny intentionally pushes john down and out of harms way, whereas i originally thought they just ran into each other and it was a lucky accident.

more prolonged eye contact and then the little tiny nod is back from earlier 😭 i am unwell about those two fucking nods and what they imply

circling back to earlier and how i mentioned maybe manny seeing that interaction between john and his father and taking it upon himself to be john's protector....yeah...yeah

continuing on-

no "hi jp are you okay, i noticed you almost got shot in the fuckin head last night", just straight into "where's my husband??"

also, to me it looks like the sun is close to being directly overhead when john starts asking about manny-

-by the time he finds him the sun is setting, so john literally spent HOURS looking for manny. im sure he was doing some other stuff but the show seems to suggest that's pretty much all he was doing.

how long do we think john sat with manny's body before going to get jp omg im gonna throw up

the way they carried him, john would have been looking at his face but he's looking away the whole time and im in pain about it

john doesn't look at his face at all.

and then of course we've got john's musings after the fact. in the short time we see him in combat/around combat he doesn't really seem to ruminate on things like this, he kinda takes everything in quietly and moves on. but here, he really sits with manny's death and i don't think he ever really got over it even though he shut down this conversation with jp after a few seconds. you know, because of the golf scene and his flashbacks to manny 🥲

anyway that's all i have for now because tumblr won't let me add any more gifs and screenshots and i'm sure those of you who stuck around to read this whole thing have had enough already lol

tldr: john and manny are tragic husbands and i think about them a lot

also shoutout to my new friend @tahnawanda for encouraging me to actually finish this post. rarepair solidarity ✊

[ideasarestuckinmyhead]

Live reaction:

MY SHAYLA <33 MY SHAYLAAA <33 Auron my wife.

RUH ROH HE SOUNDS A BIT MAD-

STOP HE CURSED AT HIM OH STOP IM NOT OKAY

Auron love you need to not talk bc Charlie is 1000% not liking your vibe rn

Wouldn't you? AURON. NOT RIGHT NOW SNARKY COMMENTS WONT HELP-

IT WAS HARD TO LET HIM GOOOOO STOOOOPPPPPPPP FUUUCCKKK

He just wanted to be fucking normal. Oh, oh baby no this isnt the way.

Auron. Auron HOW THE FUCK DO YOU ORCHESTRATE THIS WHOLE FUCKING THING

Oh we're not okay right now.

OH NO HE THINKS ITS ABOUT CONTROL CHARLIE PLZ HES WEIRD AND CANT HAVE NORMAL FRIENDSHIPS

Boundries have been fucked over. Like really fucked over.

They hit the Pentagon they hit the fucking Pentagon.

He takes measures to make his world seem fit. He doesnt wanna force him into it :( omfg stop this man is so fucking ooohhhhh

ROOK MENTIONED RRRAAAHHHH

Charlie getting dede that their mad at him not angry has my heart stoppp

Earmuffs mentioned.

Auron just asking that dede just LISTENS to Charlie. But honestly I'm curious too about that wait

"Auron you look like shit." WKWNRNTNN

HELP HE'S TELLING HIM TO GET HIS SHIT TOGETHER

AURON HAS A SOFT SPOT FOR-

Oh OH MY GOD???? Yo Auron THE TONE SWITCH BC SIR YOU CANT JUST SAY THAT AND DIP HELLO????

"Hes fuckin someone hes working with? Oh your coworkers told ya something? Oh that's tea."

I love how he was just like hello is that ethical??

[smilingformoney]

Rickmas Day 24: Christmas Party

Character: Alexander Dane (Galaxy Quest) Relationship(s): Alexander/Reader Warnings: smut

Based on Icebreaker

Read on Ao3 or below:

“I hate this already,” Alexander grumbled as the car began to pull up for you to make your entrance onto the red carpet.

“You’ll be fine, just stay behind me,” you said as you quickly checked your make-up one last time before the cameras would start snapping pictures of you.

“Why, so you can protect me from the cameras?” Alexander said as he adjusted his tie.

“No, so you can see how great my arse looks in this dress,” you grinned.

Alexander looked you up and down and smirked.

“You really do look bloody gorgeous in that dress.”

“Hmm, behave tonight and maybe you’ll get to see how it looks on my bedroom floor.”

Alexander’s eyes flashed hungrily, but your flirting was interrupted when your driver opened the car door and the camera flashes immediately started blinding you. Alexander stepped out of the car, then offered you his hand.

You put on your best polite, gracious smile and took his hand, following him out onto the red carpet and the incessant flashes from the cameras of the gossip hounds.

Tonight was a big night. It was both the wrap party for the latest season of Galaxy Quest and the cast and crew’s Christmas party. It was also, only a select few knew, the night the news would drop that Alexander was leaving Galaxy Quest.

Most of the cast and crew already knew, as his final scenes had already been written, filmed and put into post-production. You’d filmed his last scene months ago, and had been holding onto the secret with great difficulty.

What had been a harder secret to guard was your relationship. It was still fairly new, and although you both loved attention when you were performing, neither of you liked being scrutinised about your private lives. But when Alexander had started visiting you backstage at Sweeney Todd, word had spread pretty quickly that you were dating, and soon enough the whole world knew.

Tonight, however, was the first time you were attending such a high profile event as a couple. It was daunting, but with Alexander’s arm around your waist as you made your way down the red carpet, you felt comforted to know he was there with you.

“Go see the fans, Alex,” you hissed as you noticed him try to head straight past them.

“I thought you were supposed to be on my side?” he grumbled. “Anyway, I don’t have a pen to —”

You just smiled at him and produced two pens from your clutch. He sighed and took one from you.

“What would I ever do without you?”

“Crash and burn,” you said teasingly. “You go left, I’ll go right. Meet you at the guy from MTV?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Alexander gave you a swift kiss on the cheek, earning an aww from the watching fans, and you divided yourselves between the line of fans.

Your cheeks were hurting from smiling for pictures, and you hadn’t even reached the press yet. Fans clamoured to get photos with you, and you did your best to dodge the questions of Bethany’s return, since your cameo was to be a surprise, and your relationship with Alexander.

You massaged your cheeks as you joined Alexander, who’d sped through the autographs and pictures with all the practised ease of a veteran screen actor, and he took your hand as you dove into the trenches of the press.

This being your first red carpet event, you let Alexander take the lead in picking which journalists to speak to, and so you followed him to speak to a journalist who said he was from some theatre magazine you’d never heard.

“Sir Alexander! Good to see you again. Excited to be back on the Galaxy Quest red carpet?”

“Johnathan, hello. I must say I’m mostly shocked it’s come around again. It feels like last year’s event was only last week.”

“Ah, but so much has happened since then, hasn’t it? I take it the rumours are true, then?” Johnathan asked, indicating your joined hands.

“Oh, no, we’re just exchanging long protein strings,” you said. “It’s a Mak’tar thing.”

Alexander chuckled. “Well, that’s a beneficial side effect. But yes, we are dating. We tried to keep it between ourselves, but it seems hiding anything from Galaxy Quest fans is impossible.”

“Well, the one secret that does seem to be hidden is when Bethany’s coming back! Anything you can share, [Y/n]?”

“If they ask, I’m there,” you replied. “So long as I get to film with Alex again, I’ll happily put the chicken head back on.”

Johnathan laughed, and Alexander took a few more questions about the upcoming season before you said your goodbyes and moved on.

A few more journalists later, you posed for some press photos. No doubt the journalists were loving having the first official pictures of the two of you as a couple, after the only images they had for months were candid pap shots that could have been dates or could have just been two friends.

After some encouragement from the photographers, you turned to Alexander and leaned up to kiss him. For a few moments, the world seemed to calm down a little bit, and you very briefly forgot anyone other than him existed.

That was, until Guy appeared from his interviews - which had taken much longer than yours - and clapped you on the back to get your attention.

You broke the kiss and pretended for the cameras’ sake to be happy to see him, but you were truthfully a little irritated that he’d interrupted your kiss.

Eventually, you managed to escape the cameras, and made your way inside to the party, where the real fun could begin.

There was one very important rule, Alexander had told you, at the cast and crew parties: no cameras. The studio hired a couple of photographers to take some official photos to be reviewed and released to the press, but other than that, what happened at the party stayed at the party.

It was a completely reasonable rule, considering that there was an open bar. Actors were all narcissistic assholes to some extent; some just hid it better than others. Add as much alcohol as they could drink into their systems, and it was a mess. Those who seemed nice, like Gwen, showed another side - and those who were known assholes, like Jason, got worse.

As the night went on, you found your people. Alexander, of course, was an asshole. But he was your asshole, so you didn’t mind. Leilani had a much higher tolerance for alcohol than a human, so she was barely tipsy. Fred, wanting to keep pace with her, didn’t drink much. And Guy, who was almost as new to the whole thing as you were, didn’t want to get too drunk in case he did something embarassing.

You became a tight knit gang of five that night, and the photographers seemed happy with the amount of photos they got of you all hanging out. They particularly seemed happy when one of them managed to get a candid photo of you and Alexander kissing when you thought nobody was looking.

“Man, I feel like such a fifth wheel,” Guy complained when Fred and Leilani got up to dance, and he turned to speak to you only to find you were now sitting in Alexander’s lap. “Why can’t I find something like that?”

“Maybe if you weren’t such an insufferable prat?” Alexander suggested, and you slapped his chest playfully. “Ow! Okay, fine. That’s bad advice. I somehow managed to catch this one while very much being an insufferable prat.”

“Joke’s on you, I’m into that,” you snickered. “Listen, Guy, Alex and Fred are both ancient - hey!”

This time Alexander had nudged you playfully.

“Anyway, what I mean is, you got plenty of time. She’s out there, dude. Maybe - ohmygodIlovethissong!”

You jumped off of Alexander’s lap as Livin’ La Vida Loca started playing from the DJ’s speakers.

“C’mon, Alex!”

You took his hand and tried to pull him to his feet. He sighed, then picked up his drink and necked the remainder.

“You’re lucky there’s no photos allowed.”

You grinned as he let you pull him onto the dancefloor, and despite his initial reservations, once he realised dancing meant he could hold you close and put his hands all over you (plus the influence of the alcohol in his system), he turned out to be actually be a rather good dancer. Then again, you were drunk and in love with him, so your opinion might have been slightly biased.

It was approximately 3am by the time you and Alexander stumbled out of the party, with you giggling at the way he was hiccuping. The party was still very much in full swing, but you were both far more interested in getting one another’s clothes off, and despite the stringent privacy rules at the party, this was something neither of you wanted to share.

A taxi took you back to your flat, as it was closer than Alexander’s place, and he teased you as you drunkenly fumbled with the lock.

“I’m so glad we don’t have to go to those parties ever again,” Alexander sighed with relief as he pulled his shoes off in the hallway. “I’m sick and tired of watching Jason put his relationship with Gwen on the line every year by drunkenly flirting with every woman in the room.”

“Was he doing that? I didn’t notice, I had my eyes on you all night,” you said as you poured two glasses of water from your filter.

“You can bet I had my eyes on you,” Alexander replied, trying his best to sound seductive through his drunken slurring. He wrapped his arms around you from behind and nuzzled your neck. “God, that dress looks fucking amazing on you. Let’s get it off.”

He pawed at your breasts, as if he could rip the fabric off there and then, and you laughed.

“Easy, tiger. Let’s be sensible adults for once.”

You managed to wriggle out of his grasp just enough to turn and hand him a glass of water.

After hydrating, you were both feeling a little more sober, and you managed to walk in a straight line as Alexander chased you into the bedroom and eagerly pulled the zip down on the back of your dress.

He kissed you as it fell to the floor, and you both laughed as you stumbled back onto the bed. He climbed on top of you, still kissing you hungrily.

“Hey, you better get these off too, mister,” you said, pushing his suit jacket from his shoulders.

“Mhm, alright, alright.” Alexander grumbled at having to pull his lips away from yours as he fumbled with his shirt buttons. You helped him with them, followed quickly by his belt, and watched as he discarded his trousers along with the rest of your floor-bound clothes.

Your dress and his suit together were worth a good few hundred dollars, so maybe you should have put them away a bit more carefully, but neither of you cared. You only had one thing on your mind.

“I’ve been waiting for this all night,” Alexander purred as he climbed back on top of you and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist. His cock pressed against your entrance, and he grinned. “Soaked as always, I see.”

“Alex, please…”

You didn’t need to ask him twice. He thrust his hips forwards, slipping inside of you easily, and your walls stretched to welcome him as he pushed his cock deep inside you.

“Christ, you’re so fucking beautiful,” Alexander panted as he held you close, fingers digging into your flesh as he fucked you. “And so fucking warm and wet for me…”

“All for you, Alex,” you moaned in reply, grabbing uselessly onto his shoulders to try and steady yourself as he fucked you. “Al - always for you…”

“Mmm, yes… all mine… fuck, [Y/n]…”

He picked up the pace, and you knew from the way he was grunting desperately in your ear that he wouldn’t be lasting very long tonight.

“Harder, Alex…”

Alexander complied, his hips slamming into you with everything he had. The mattress squeaked its protests with every thrust, but neither of you cared. All you cared about was him, his flesh against yours, the way he panted without abandon with each thrust, the strain on his face as he tried not to cum too quickly. He was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen.

You felt the familiar burning inside your core, and Alexander must have felt your walls clenching around him, because he began mumbling in your ear, “That’s it, [Y/n], cum for me… so good for me, so fucking good… mhm, fuck, I’m not gonna last long…”

He slipped a hand between your bodies, and the moment his thumb flicked against your clit you were done for, a shout of his name erupting from your lips as you came, your whole body shuddering as ecstasy washed over your body. Alexander came shortly after, his hips stilling as he filled you, his groan of pleasure low and guttural, and the most beautiful sound in the world.

He took a few moments to catch his breath, then pulled out of you and wrapped you tightly in his arms as he laid down on the bed next to you. You snuggled up to him happily, both of you basking in the bliss of the aftermath. Your bedroom stunk of sex and sweat, but neither of you cared.

You propped yourself up on your elbow and looked down at him. Alexander Dane, famously uptight and grumpy, never looked so relaxed as he did after a good orgasm.

The alcohol must have still been in your system, because your next words came out unbidden, taking both of you by surprise, even though you’d known for a while now that they were true.

“I love you, Alex.”

He opened his eyes and smiled. Lips met yours, and he pulled you on top of him so he could kiss you deeper.

His amber eyes glowed with admiration as he looked at you, admiring every inch of your face.

“I love you too, [Y/n].”

Best Christmas party ever.

[justplainwhump]

Laundry Room

At Rosa's first Christmas at her owners' house, she and Blanca are alone together.

A prequel to Pet Safety.

Content : BBU, implied conditioning, nudity, self-harm (due to conditioning), burns. Caretaking. Falling in love. F/f romance. Kissing.

Rosa's Sir and Madam spend Christmas with Madam's family in their beach house. Pets aren't allowed, Madam has said with a frown directed at Blanca. Since "the incident". The term makes Blanca's neck stiffen, Madam's jaw clench, and Sir roll his eyes. And Rosa? She doesn't know. Is not included in the dynamics that work under the surface.

It makes sense in a way, that the Romantic has intimate knowledge that the Domestic doesn't, Rosa tells herself. Blanca is special. Rosa isn't.

Rosa knows how to cook all the meals her owners like, how to set the table, clean the glasses, arrange the clothes, make the beds. She's a good pet. That's all she needs. All she ever wanted. All that a pet is meant to be.

So good, that it even confused her, when Master Cory took one of the containers of food carefully prepared by Rosa in days and nights of work out of the trunk and sneaked it back to Blanca. "For the holiday. Don't forget me, beautiful. Merry Christmas," he'd whispered into her hair, and Blanca had smiled at him so wide that the aberrant feelings hit Rosa right in the gut.

Nobody had spared a glance at her.

It's an aberrant feeling, being left out. Domestics don't feel lonely, they don't feel sad, they don't feel jealous, they don't feel sorry. They don't have friends. They function. That's all they do.

And Rosa affirms herself that she does. She's a good and functioning Domestic.

As such, she's walked down into the basement right after her owners have left, pulling the doors close behind her. She doesn't need to see Blanca smile as she waves past the car. There's a place for Blanca, and there's a place for Rosa, and they do not overlap.

-

Rosa is still ironing clothes in the utility room a while later, when Blanca strolls in. There's an easy sway to Blanca's hips, an elegance to her movements that seems unfitting for an environment like the packed, practical laundry room that smells like labor and detergent.

She's still naked, like Madam insists for her to be in the house, but even though Rosa understands it's meant to be a reminder of her lowly position, Blanca seems more regal than anyone else Rosa had ever seen.

She swallows. She isn't supposed to think that. She isn't supposed to look at Blanca's body, at her soft skin, at the beautiful curves of her hips and breasts - or at least she isn't meant to see it as anything else than a surface that is meant to be kept clean, just as are all her owners' other possessions.

Rosa focuses on the sheet in front of her, scanning it's pristine white for any creases to distract herself from any aberrant thoughts.

"You shouldn't be here," she says briskly.

Undeterred, Blanca leans in over the laundry hamper, her body a perfect curve, as she fishes for one of Master Cory's worn shirts. Rosa fixates her gaze on her own hand around the iron.

From the corner of her eyes, she sees Blanca bury her face in the shirt, take in their owner's smell.

"Why?" Blanca asks.

Rosa blinks. "Why what?"

"Why aren't I supposed to be here?"

"You're not a Domestic."

"True. I'm a Romantic. I'm supposed to be with my Master." She slips into the shirt, wraps it closely around her and shakes her hair free over the collar. "He's not here. He doesn't want me with him. So where am I supposed to be now?" There's a sadness clinging to her voice that almost stings in Rosa's heart. It doesn't. It mustn't. She has to keep things in order.

"Madam doesn't want you dressed in the house."

Blanca shrugs and pulls herself up to sit on the washing machine, crosses her long, smooth legs. Rosa feels dizzy. "And Sir likes it when I wear his clothes."

"Sir left," Rosa says, sharper than intended. Blanca shouldn't be here. They shouldn't be talking. It makes Rosa slower, less focused. It makes her a bad pet.

"So did Madam. It's just us." Blanca shrugs, leans forward, pauses, as if waiting for Rosa to meet her gaze.

Unwillingly, Rosa puts the iron down and does.

Blanca's eyes are grey. Sometimes the grey is light and shimmering, chrome and steel. Today, they're dark. Like a storm, Rosa thinks. A storm that carries away anything in its path.

"So the question should be: How would you like me, Rosa?"

On my face. The thought shoots through her, bright and short and sharp and cruel, like a lightning bolt.

Pain follows instantly. Punishment. A scream. Hers? Blanca's? Both?

The world turns black.

-

When she comes to, she's laying on the ground, bedded on crumpled laundry. Everything is cold. Her entire left sidethrobs with heavy pain, radiating from her forearm. Blanca's fingers run over it, slick with some sort of paste, carefully coating bright red blisters shaped like an iron, surrounding spots of white and black. Rosa's stomach lurches.

Bad pet, she thinks. Bad pets deserve punishment.

"Please," she whispers. "I'm bad."

"I cooled the wound for fifteen minutes," Blanca says. "You were unconscious. I called Sir. He says you'll be fine."

"Bad," Rosa whispers. "I was bad. I was... Madam will -"

"Sir won't tell her."

"Sir won't-" Rosa stares at Blanca. Her grey eyes are narrow in concentration, as she gently rubs in the salve. Spears of pain drill into Rosa's body. She doesn't flinch. "Why?"

"I begged him." Blanca's lips twist. "He likes that. I made him come over the phone."

"But I was -"

"I told him it was an accident. That I don't want Madam to hurt you for it." She smiles down at Rosa. "That if it needs to be, he can hurt me instead. It's okay. He's not cruel."

Rosa swallows. Master Cory is cruel. But they both know what Blanca meant. Madam is more cruel. So much more. "I deserve it." Rosa shivers. "I was a bad pet."

"I lied to Sir. It wasn't an accident." Blanca reaches for the bright orange first aid kit next to her. Her hair tingles on Rosa's skin. "You burned yourself. Why?"

Rosa clenches her jaw, refusing to answer the question. Focus on the pain. Not on the flutter in her stomach. "You can't lie to Sir."

"I can." Blanca smirks, as she places a bandage over the burn and begins to wrap in in place with gauze. "I love him. I belong to him. I'm made for him. But I lie to him all the time."

Rosa winces the tiniest bit, when Blanca knots the ends of the bandage. "Pets can't -"

"I tell him that I like his wife. That I like his friends. I tell him that every fuck is great, even the quick ones on the backseat of his car. I tell him that I don't mind pain." She bites her lip. "I tell him that he's the only one I could ever love."

"But..." Rosa's throat is dry. "That's... not a lie, right? Pets can't -"

Blanca leans in. She's not fidgeting for the first aid kit this time, Rosa realizes. She's leaning over Rosa, one leg nestled between hers. The white shirt is falling open from her shoulders, her beautiful breasts in front of Rosa, her hair on Rosa's neck, her breath hot on her skin.

"I can," Blanca whispers. "And I think you can, too."

Rosa's lips part, as her good hand reaches up into Blanca's hair.

Bad pet, a soft voice echoes somewhere in her mind. But then her fingers curl up in Blanca's soft hair and all voices and all pain are swept away by the storm that erupts when Blanca's lips meet hers.