#no one will ever believe it actually happened

[yandere-wishes]

༺ 𝐻𝑜𝓌 𝒹𝑜 𝒮𝑒𝓁𝒾𝓃𝒶 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝐵𝓇𝓊𝒸𝑒 𝒻𝑒𝑒𝓁 𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝒟𝒶𝓂𝒾𝒶𝓃'𝓈 𝒸𝓇𝓊𝓈𝒽 𝑜𝓃 𝒞𝒶𝓇𝑔𝒾𝓇𝓁? ༻

ᓚ₍ ^. .^₎ᓚ₍ ^. .^₎ᓚ₍ ^. .^₎ᓚ₍ ^. .^₎ᓚ₍ ^. .^₎ᓚ₍ ^. .^₎

The problem with bats is that they tend to solely rely on their instincts, their carvings. They tend to forget their surroundings, that other creatures exist as much as they do.

Selina rings her arms around your frame pushing you closer, nose nuzzling your ear and cheek. Her hug only loosens when she hears the bat speak his echolocation ringing clearly through her ears.

"Daimian brought her home last, he's...he has a crush, I think."

Wasn't there some sort of new bat-eating fungus discovered in the north?

For a moment she debates asking Oswald to export in a batch or two.

"It's inevitable," Selina says, laying a bowl of food at the foot of the counter for the cats. Exhaustion seeps through her words, she speaks from experience, experience too deep to voice. "Bats are tenacious rodents, and robins are hard to kill. Mix that with demons blood and I'd say we're just about doomed." Your eyes stare up at her, even sideways, and anxious she's gorgeous. You'd always dreamed you'd grow up to be her. Inherit the claws and whip and lust for the endless shimmer.

But you're starting to think you'll never make it to that.

Not with the bird, who shows affection by breaking bones and spilling blood.

Selina doesn't like it, not fully, not utterly. She doesn't trust the boy wonder, doesn't trust a future she can not see. The boy is young and overbearing, he'll only end up trapping you within a glittering cage. Domesticating the girl he loves, satiating her by handing her pearls and diamonds and gold. He won't let her take, won't let her bleed for own life. She's seen one too many men like that, she's escaped every one of them. The bat may believe in freedom but his heir does not. And after all this time, all these years she refuses to let your sovereignty be stripped of you.

Be silent thy traitorous voices screaming sanguinity inside her wry head.

Voices that utter such affirmations, that say this is destiny, that this too must happen. Who safer than the son of the bat, the blood son at that? Freaks stick to freaks, masks, and capes, and cowls. Selina would never trust a normal man to treat you the way you deserve...

But she knows a Wayne never could either...

Selina watches as the Boy Wonder's kick nests in between your ribs. He wasted no time, swinging straight for you. Your body tumbles back, finally gaining enough momentum to filp landing on your feet, knees bent ready to pounce. Your claws tear through the flesh of his cheek, scrapping up the skin, freeing the red letting it mar the concrete. But the bird only slithers in closer, pecking your lips before, slamming his head into yours. Selina's eyes land on the bat, the darkness at the ledge, he stands immobile, as if actually watching a cat and bird fight, as if thinking this is nothing more than a cartoon playing at the drive-through theater.

She extends her whip, lashing it through the air letting the leather coil around Damian before pulling him away. The demon boy shrieks in anger, he kicks, and writhes vying for freedom. You land behind your mentor, hiding behind her. For the first time ever Selina is almost sorry her suit is so tight, sorry she can't provide more shelter.

"Can you please keep this one a leash, bats? It's starting to annoy my kitten."

Batman doesn't say anything, he only cuts away the rope and drags his son away.

"Aren't bats just rodents?" You ask arms crossed as you finally crawl out of your temporary sanctuary.

"Yes, why?" It takes Selina another moment before she finally tears her eyes away from the disappearing silhouettes in the skyline.

"So why haven't we just killed them?"

It's only back in the apartment that both you and Selina realize he took your stolen jewels too.

Selina curses she really liked that new necklace.

This could all be a cruel joke, Bruce thinks as he watches Damian sulking on his bed, arms crossed. Robin suit still on.

After all, what's funnier than the son you unknowingly sired with your ex-lover falling so madly in love with the adopted daughter of your complex midnight affair, who you may or may not be madly in love with...

Bruce can't think of one,

He doesn't even think Joker could come up with anything better.

Or worst.

He's too tired to fully tell.

"Hey, Bruce?" Tim asks, poking him with the sharp end of a frame. "Can you hand him this when he's done brooding? I'd go in but I need my bones intact for the next few days." Bruce sighs, taking the frame from Tim and inspecting it with worry. Sure enough, it's a picture of you crouching in an ally, stalking some prey or another.

He can't help but think his sons are progressively getting worse.

Regardless Bruce leaves the frame in Damian's room.

When he closes the door a little pride bubbles in his chest.

Bruce knows that freaks stick to freaks.

Masks, and capes, and cowls.

Who better to understand you than another who wears your endeavors?

Who can love an anomaly if not for another anomaly?

Bruce leaves, missing how the young heir, gently kisses your photo.

Running his hands across your photo, muttering a silent, simple 'I love you'.

Damian pricks his finger on his tooth.

Drawing a bloody heart around your face.

"You'll be mine my love" he promises.

He swears it on his cape and cowl.

He swears it on his lineage.

Tumblr keeps eating my asks when I try to answer 😭😭

But anyway heyy Anon, so to answer your question:

Selina is torn because she wants you to be free and live the life you want. This includes picking who you fall in love with and how the two of you spend your lives together. She finds Damian's obsession annoying, if not dangerous. She knows he'll try to "domesticate" you, to make you into nothing more than his doll. And really she just wants to buy you as much time as possible to be free. However, she also knows, deep down, that the only person who can really understand you is another "freak" whether a rogue or a hero. Someone who knows what it's like to wear a second skin. She just really wants you to pick who that "freak" is.

Bruce on the other hand is simultaneously proud and amused. A part of him really really understands why Damian would fall in love with Catgirl. It just goes to show how similar Damian is to him. A chip off the old block if you will. He also shares both Damian's perspective of seeing this all as legacy, as passing on the torch, feeling like in a way Damian is really ready to step in as the next Batman if need be. He however also shares Selina's perspective of "freaks" being with "freaks", really approving of his son falling for someone with obsessions and desires, someone twisted like they are.

[adragonsfriend]

While I don’t think there’s a single word for it, I’d call the thing you’re experiencing “being asked to suspend disbelief for a bad reason.”

Suspension of disbelief is the author asking you to believe, at least temporarily, in the story more than you do in your own lived experience. There are many good reason to accept this:

Magic/fantasy setting: is cool, is good for communicating thematic messages, full of potentially interesting power dynamics, is full of fantasies people enjoy

Omegaverse: is smutty, is rife with potentially interesting power dynamics, is full of fantasies people enjoy

University AU: is a recognizable setting at least somewhat familiar to many readers, good place to get the characters stuck together for a few years, rife with potentially interesting power dynamics, is full of fantasies people enjoy (aka being in a school environment without actually having to write the essays)

Sometimes, the reason the author asked you to suspend disbelief is so good that you come away from their story having taken something you initially had to suspend disbelief about as a new truth of the world (currently reassessing just how deeply absurd the US & European cultural importance placed on property destruction is because of the book I just finished, and it’s going to be one of the things that sticks with me permanently).

When the reason good, your brain is fantastic at suspending disbelief. But “author lacks knowledge of/chose to ignore a mundane detail of the world” is not a particularly good reason. It has nothing to do with the stories goals or the reason you’re reading it instead of another story, so it looms, pointless and annoying. Just like with characters, being annoying is often a worse crime than being evil.

It can sometimes be overcome or ignored in favor of other reasons, but when it’s a reoccurring detail, or a central mechanic of making the plot happen (like in your case), ignoring it gets more difficult. For someone who doesn’t know the mundane detail (probably most of the audience), it’s not a problem. But for someone who does, well, it’s like a gate with no fence connected to it: in the way, a daily obstacle, and only there because no one’s ever thought to get rid of it.

Genuinely don't know what it's called but there's a particular way of violating reality that doesn't work. For example, I am willing to accept an omegaverse university AU of nearly any fandom you care to name (except, for some reason, Sherlock, because I have an inexplicable hatred for unilock). However, a lot of Star Wars university AUs specifically fail on this aspect: they make Anakin an engineering PhD student and Obi-Wan something like literature or classics, and then they make Anakin his TA or GA.

You can't do that. Absolutely not. Anakin is unqualified for that and a university would not do it in any case. A university would literally hire a junior or senior undergraduate workstudy student to do as much of that work as possible first. They would do NOTHING other than do that and make the prof do all his own grading.

Is there a name for "I will accept [wild fantasy premise] but not [ordinary wrong thing]?" Please tell me there's a name for this. Probably someone who studies lit will know? I'm a systems person I don't know from lit theory just like Anakin

[fear-less]

₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 this is awkward..

pairing: james potter x f!reader

➥ In which, you were fed up with James, deciding to put aside your pettiness you drag him away from the gryffindor party to talk to him.

Warnings: angst, fluff, james pov, this inspired by awae (aka the best show ever), r and james speaking is 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓿𝓲𝓵𝔂 inspired by gilbert confessing that he wants anne so effing bad bc he 𝓯𝔀 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓿𝔂, lowkey dont hate me for making the “dreams” u want so like…. I just didn't know what to do bc like idk smh i set back women 50 years by that

a/n: tysm for all the love on this series!! y’all are NOT ready for the next chapter, writing it rn and 😭🙏 BUTTT tysm for 300🫶🫶 also I finished the last chapter... do y'all want me to post it today or edge y'all and post it tomorrow

series masterlist ! - divider creds: i-mmaculatus & dollywons

It was now nearing the end of the school year—even if there was still a month to go. James could now be in the same room as you without glaring daggers at whoever you were talking to. Though he told himself he was over you, he knew deep down that the feelings never faded.

He told himself it didn’t matter. He told himself he was fine. And yet, every time he caught sight of you, every time your laughter reached his ears from across the room, it was as if someone had set fire to his resolve.

He wanted to talk to you so badly it was almost pathetic. But it was like the universe itself was conspiring against him—or, more specifically, like Finn Laurier had developed some sort of sixth sense for James’s intentions.

Because every single time James gathered enough courage, every time he braced himself to walk over to you, Finn would appear out of nowhere. Whether it was in the Great Hall, the library, or even during Quidditch practice, Finn always seemed to materialize by your side at precisely the wrong moment, stealing away your attention and leaving James feeling like the outsider in his own story.

It was infuriating.

“Mate, you’re grinding your teeth,” Sirius remarked casually one afternoon as they sat under the beech tree by the lake.

James startled, realizing with some embarrassment that Sirius was right. He quickly unclenched his jaw and let out a frustrated sigh.

“Sorry,” he muttered, running a hand through his messy hair. “I’m just…”

“Just what?” Sirius prompted, raising an eyebrow.

“Nothing,” James lied, though his voice betrayed him.

Sirius gave him a knowing look. “If this is about her again, just—”

“It’s not about her,” James interrupted quickly, though he winced as the words left his mouth. He knew Sirius wouldn’t believe him, and he wasn’t sure he even believed himself anymore.

Sirius sighed, shaking his head. “Prongs, you’re going to drive yourself mad if you keep this up. Just talk to her already.”

“I’ve tried!” James snapped, louder than he intended. He lowered his voice and added, “I’ve tried, but every bloody time, Finn shows up. It’s like he’s got a bloody tracker on her or something.”

Remus, who had been quietly reading nearby, finally chimed in. “You know, maybe you’re overthinking this,” he said, not looking up from his book.

“How could I possibly be overthinking this?” James demanded, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

“Maybe Finn’s not doing it on purpose,” Remus suggested calmly. “Maybe it’s just bad timing.”

“Bad timing?” James repeated incredulously. “Bad timing doesn’t happen this often, Moony. This is a pattern.”

Remus gave him a skeptical look but didn’t argue further.

James leaned back against the tree trunk, closing his eyes and letting out a long breath. He hated how much this was bothering him. He hated how much control this entire situation had over him.

But most of all, he hated the thought that you might actually be happy with Finn.

It wasn’t that he thought Finn was a bad guy—quite the opposite, really. Finn was charming, talented, and annoyingly good at everything he did. He was the kind of guy parents adored, the kind of guy professors went out of their way to praise. And worst of all, he was the kind of guy who could make you smile in a way James had only dreamed of.

James opened his eyes, staring up at the branches overhead. “Maybe I should just give up,” he muttered.

Sirius snorted. “Yeah, right. That’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve said all day.”

“I’m serious,” James insisted.

“No, I’m Sirius,” Sirius quipped, smirking.

James groaned, throwing a small pebble in his direction. “Not the time for jokes.”

“Fine, fine,” Sirius said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “But seriously, you’re not giving up. You’re James Potter, remember? Stubborn, arrogant, never-takes-no-for-an-answer James Potter. You don’t give up on things you care about.”

James hesitated, staring at the rippling water of the Black Lake. He wanted to believe Sirius. He wanted to believe that there was still a chance, that you weren’t as far out of reach as you seemed.

But as he watched you across the courtyard later that day, standing beside Finn and laughing at something he said, James couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, it was too late.

But his doubt soon melted into something far more unsettling when he noticed your gaze shift. For the first time in what felt like forever, your attention wasn’t on Finn Laurier—it was on him.

James felt like he might throw up.

His heartbeat thundered in his ears, and his hands fidgeted with the hem of his robes as he quickly looked away. In fact, he didn’t just look away; he turned his entire body in the opposite direction, hoping to mask the flush rising to his cheeks.

“C’mon, James, you’ve got a Quidditch game to win today! Channel all that anger you’ve got towards Laurier into winning us the Cup!” Sirius said, clapping a hand on James’s shoulder with his trademark grin.

James gave a faint nod, trying to let Sirius’s words sink in. He wasn’t sure if it would work, but he had to admit—focusing on Quidditch might be better than brooding.

As the match began, Sirius’s advice started to help. Flying through the air, the roar of the crowd, and the adrenaline coursing through his veins almost made him forget the mess he was tangled in. Quidditch always had a way of making the weight on his shoulders feel lighter.

Almost.

At first, he wasn’t paying much attention to the game. His mind wandered back to you, back to everything that had gone wrong. He thought about what he would say, how he could even begin to fix things. And, like always, he couldn’t resist scanning the crowd for you.

Even in the middle of a fight, even when he swore to himself that he was done, James always looked for you in the stands.

And he found you—right where he didn’t want to.

You were sitting with Finn Laurier, your hand clasped in his. James’s stomach twisted painfully at the sight, and he forced himself to look away, though the image burned into his mind.

Of course. Finn fucking Laurier.

He sighed, his grip tightening on his broomstick. There was no point in hoping anymore. Whatever chance he’d had—if he’d ever had one—was gone now. Maybe he’d already been downgraded in your life: a friend at best, a stranger at worst. The thought stung, and James shoved it down, refusing to dwell on it any longer.

And then, something golden caught the corner of his eye.

The Snitch.

For the first time all game, James’s focus snapped into place. He leaned forward on his broom, his heart pounding—not from heartbreak this time, but from the sheer rush of competition. If nothing else, he could still win this. He could still bring home the Cup.

James shot after the Snitch with everything he had, the rush of wind against his face only fueling his determination. The crowd roared, but their voices blurred into the background. His world narrowed to one thing: the golden glimmer darting just ahead.

The Hufflepuff Seeker was hot on his trail, but James barely registered them. This was his moment. The Snitch veered sharply to the right, and James followed, his reflexes razor-sharp. He could feel the weight of his emotions—anger, heartbreak, frustration—all pouring into this chase.

The Snitch dipped low, skimming just above the grass, and James dove after it, his fingers outstretched. The Hufflepuff Seeker was closing in fast, but James didn’t care. He pushed his broom harder, faster, his body leaning forward so much it felt like he might fall off.

And then, his fingers closed around the Snitch.

The Gryffindor stands erupted into cheers, deafening and jubilant. The sound echoed across the pitch as James pulled up, the Snitch held high in triumph. For the first time all week, a genuine smile broke across his face.

He’d done it.

Back on the ground, his teammates swarmed him, yelling and celebrating as they lifted him off the ground in a flurry of hugs and pats on the back. Sirius was the loudest, of course, laughing as he shouted, “That’s my best mate! Did you see that dive? Bloody brilliant!”

James grinned, allowing himself to soak in the moment. But as the initial adrenaline rush faded, his thoughts drifted back to you.

Through the crowd, he spotted you walking toward the castle with Laurier. You looked happy—laughing at something Finn said, your hand still in his.

James’s chest tightened, the pain creeping back in.

Sirius slung an arm around his shoulders. “Oi, don’t let that git ruin your moment. You just won us the Cup, Prongs. Focus on that, yeah?”

James forced a nod, plastering a smile on his face. “Yeah. You’re right.”

But deep down, as the team carried him back to the common room, the ache lingered. Winning the match had been a distraction, but it wasn’t enough to erase what he felt for you—or the sting of seeing you with someone else.

Still, James promised himself one thing: he’d get through this. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but eventually. And who knew? Maybe, someday, you’d see him the way he saw you.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

The Gryffindor common room was a chaotic blur of red and gold, filled with triumphant cheers and laughter. The moment the team returned from the pitch, the party was already in full swing. Someone had charmed a banner to flash "Gryffindor Wins the Cup!" in shimmering letters, and butterbeer bottles floated around the room, courtesy of a cheeky charm from Sirius.

James stood in the center of it all, grinning as his teammates and housemates patted him on the back and congratulated him. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to bask in the glory of the victory, letting it drown out the knot in his chest. He’d won the game, and Gryffindor had the Cup—he deserved to enjoy it.

“Prongs!” Sirius yelled over the noise, shoving a butterbeer into his hand. “You’re the man of the hour! You better milk this for all it’s worth, because Merlin knows you deserve it.”

James laughed, shaking his head. “Don’t let me hear you say that too often, Padfoot. I might start believing it.”

Sirius gave him a devilish grin. “Oh, you will. Now, c’mon, let’s make some noise!” He climbed onto a table, raising his bottle high. “To Prongs, our Quidditch hero!”

The room erupted in cheers, and James couldn’t help but laugh, taking a sip of his butterbeer as the noise washed over him. For the first time all day, he felt lighter.

As the party went on, James moved through the crowd, chatting and laughing with his housemates. But no matter how loud the celebration got, his eyes kept drifting to the door, half-hoping, half-dreading to see you walk in.

And then, you did.

James froze mid-conversation, his heart doing that familiar stutter-step it always did when he saw you. You looked radiant, wrapped in Gryffindor colors, your cheeks flushed from the cold. But his chest tightened when he noticed Laurier trailing behind you, his hand resting casually on the small of your back.

James quickly turned back to his conversation, forcing a smile and pretending not to notice. He wasn’t going to let Finn Laurier—or his own stupid feelings—ruin the night.

“Oi, Prongs,” Sirius said, appearing at his side again. “Stop moping and do something fun. We just won the bloody Cup, mate! At least pretend you’re having the time of your life.”

James forced another grin. “I am having fun, Padfoot. Loads of fun.”

Sirius narrowed his eyes. “You’re staring at her again, aren’t you?”

“I’m not,” James lied, taking a long sip of butterbeer.

Sirius groaned, grabbing James by the shoulders. “Look, here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to stop torturing yourself, and you’re going to have a bloody fantastic time tonight. And if that doesn’t work, we’ll prank Laurier so hard he won’t know which way is up. Deal?”

James couldn’t help but laugh at that, shaking his head. “Alright, deal.”

Hours later, the party was still going strong. Someone had turned the music up, and the common room had transformed into a dance floor. James found himself dragged into the middle of it by Lily Evans, who gave him a pointed look.

“Stop sulking, Potter,” she said, smirking. “You just won the Cup. Act like it.”

“I’m not sulking,” James said, though his half-hearted smile gave him away.

Lily raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further. Instead, she tugged him into the rhythm of the music, and for a while, James let himself get lost in the moment.

It wasn’t until he caught sight of you again, laughing at something Laurier said, that the knot in his chest returned. He took a deep breath, plastered on another smile, and decided that, for tonight, he’d keep pretending.

He watched you from across the room as you and Laurier continued talking, laughter bubbling between you two. He could see the way you looked at him now—so different from the way you looked at him before. It was like there was a barrier, a wall that hadn’t been there when he first met you.

“Prongs,” Sirius appeared at his side again, his voice low and concerned. “Look, I know you’ve been through a lot, but this is ridiculous. You’re letting Laurier ruin your night—and you just won us the Cup, for Merlin’s sake. You’re allowed to be happy tonight. So go talk to her. If you don’t, I swear I’ll do it for you.”

James frowned at him, irritated. “I’m not talking to her, Pads. Not now.”

“Then at least get out of here and enjoy yourself,” Sirius pressed. “We’re celebrating, mate. You’ve earned it.”

James looked over at you one more time, and for a second, he almost gave in. But the knot in his chest was still there, tightly wound, and it made everything feel so much harder than it should’ve been.

But maybe... maybe he could find a way to feel better. Maybe he could lose himself in the celebration.

“I’ll think about it,” he finally muttered, glancing at his friends.

Sirius didn’t seem convinced but let out an exaggerated sigh. “Fine, but I’m not letting you go off and brood in some corner. The whole bloody school’s celebrating with you tonight.”

James smirked faintly, feeling a little lighter. Maybe he could pretend to be okay, at least for tonight. He could let the victory, the laughter, and his friends drown out the ache for just a little while longer.

But as the night continued, and as the music played on, James found himself once again looking toward the doorway, hoping—just hoping—that you’d look his way.

For the first time in forever, the world was finally on his side as he saw you quickly leaving Finn and walking straight to him.

“May I speak to you, please?” James nodded, Dumbfounded. 

You quickly grabbed his hand and went outside the common room and into the corridors. 

You took a deep breath, your fingers twisting nervously. “James… I’ve been meaning to talk to you for a while now.”

James’s throat went dry, his pulse quickening as he struggled to find his voice. “Yeah?”

You nodded, glancing down at your hands before meeting his gaze. “I—I’m sorry.”

That wasn’t what he had expected. Of all the scenarios he’d played out in his head, an apology hadn’t been one of them.

“For what?” he asked, genuine confusion coloring his voice.

“For everything,” you said in a rush, your words tumbling out before you could stop them. “For avoiding you. I was confused—about what I did that made you ignore me. And I guess I wanted to get back at you for ignoring me, so I decided to do the same to you. And… I’m sorry for whatever happened between us that made things so weird.”

James stared at you, your vulnerability hitting him like a Bludger to the chest. His heart ached at the uncertainty in your voice.

“You don’t have to apologize,” he said quickly, shaking his head.

“Yes, I do,” you insisted, your voice firm despite the tears welling in your eyes.

“No, you don’t,” James countered, his tone soft yet resolute. “It’s not fair to put all of this on yourself. You’ve always been there for me, and I—well, I’ve been a terrible friend lately. I was practically acting like you didn’t exist.”

James faltered when he saw the blank expression on your face. Panic flickered in his chest—had he said too much?

But before he could say anything more, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him.

“Oh, James,” you murmured into his shoulder. “It’s okay. I—I was acting like you didn’t exist too, but only because you were doing it to me.”

He blinked, caught off guard, before slowly relaxing into the hug. He looked down at you, his hand instinctively reaching up to brush away a stray tear trailing down your cheek.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

You shook your head, a small, watery smile breaking through. “We’re both sorry. Let’s just… not do this anymore, okay?”

James nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Deal.”

“It feels so much better having my best friend around again.” James’ smile faltered again, he never liked the word “best friend” when it came to you, he always wanted more.

“Definitely”

You two let each other talk for what felt like hours even though it was barely fifteen minutes. He enjoyed every second though, until you brought up Finn and future plans they may include him. He couldn't believe it, when had your parents met his? He remembers your dad telling him how much he was rooting you and him to be together, now he's okay with you dating some other dude? And worst of all, your father was okay with that same dude wanting to marry his daughter? James felt like throwing up.

“Then he said that my father laid it out on a silver platter.”

“Laid... what out on a platter?”

“My future! Gave him the blessing to...to propose. I don't know what to do.”

“You told me you don’t mind being married straight after Hogwarts if you truly loved the man. That being a wife and mother... is your dream. Finn is.. nice, and both of your guys’ parents are supportive. I don't understand. What's holding you back?”

“Just… one thing.”

“What am I supposed to do? Everyone else is just... moving on, and now you’re... and I’m still... We never even... And he’s there, and you’re—Merlin, you’re never going to find someone who—” James stopped, his voice cracking. “I know that much, so how... how am I supposed to... I can’t... I— We...”

Before you could speak–a drunk Sirius somehow found you two. “Woah James you're really speaking to her? Atta boy, now, let's get back to the party, cmon, we are going to do something cool, have you heard of ....” Sirius rambled on, tugging on James’ arm to drag him back to the party.

“I’ll be off, then.” You said, voice quivering as if hesitant to leave.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

All James could think about was the previous night—the talk you two had shared. Your words, your voice, the hesitation in your eyes—it all replayed in his mind like a haunting melody. What would’ve happened if Sirius hadn’t barged in, if James had told him to leave, if he’d been brave enough to stay in that moment with you?

“I think…” James began, his voice breaking as he paced the Gryffindor dormitory, “I think she might’ve been asking if I love her. And—and I think I told her to marry someone else.”

Sirius, slouched in the chair by the window, looked stricken. “Mate…” he started, his tone heavy with guilt. “If I’d known—if I knew what was happening—I wouldn’t have gone looking for you. I—I practically ruined your chances. Merlin, I’m so, so sorry.”

James stopped pacing, running a hand through his already-messy hair. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t even know if she meant it. She said so much without really saying anything, and now I don’t know if I imagined it all.”

“‘Sure, take option two,’ when option one is all she wants for her future?” James muttered, his voice thick with frustration.

“What is option one?” Peter asked, his curiosity breaking the tension.

James scoffed, bitterness creeping into his tone. “It’s Finn, obviously.” He paused, his anger flaring. “But both their parents support it, and she told me that! Before she spilled all of that on me, we were talking and laughing like nothing was wrong. But now…” He exhaled sharply, his voice softening as he sat down on the edge of his bed. “Now it feels like I’m being asked to explain the rest of my life on a bloody ticking clock. And if I make the wrong decision, I’ve either ruined my life—or hers.”

The room fell silent. Sirius and Peter exchanged uneasy glances, while Remus seemed lost in thought, unsure of how to respond.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

Meanwhile, you had confided in your mother about your plans the night before: to finally tell the man you truly loved how you felt. You hadn’t wanted to bring it up while you and James were laughing and enjoying each other’s company, but you knew if you didn’t seize the moment, you’d never say it at all.

What you hadn’t expected was for him to turn you down. To tell you—calmly, almost dismissively—that you should marry Finn.

Your mother was waiting for your response. You knew she expected good news, a letter confirming that you and James were finally together. Instead, you sat at your desk, penning words that left a bitter taste in your mouth.

Dear Mother,

I did what you told me to do, but I fear I shouldn’t have. We were talking just fine, and then I told him everything. I told him how I felt. And he told me to marry Finn.

Finn is lovely, yes—but he’s not James. I asked James if there was any chance for us, and he said no. At least now I have clarity on where I stand with him. And I know it sounds awful to compare Finn to James, but... maybe knowing what I know now, I can learn to be happy with Finn. Father and Finn’s family are all thrilled, after all. I don’t even want to think about what I would’ve done if James had said he felt the same.

You sighed, folding the parchment carefully and sealing it in an envelope. The weight of your words sat heavily on your chest, but you couldn’t dwell on them any longer. You needed to send this letter immediately.

Pulling on your cloak, you found yourself heading for one of the secret passages to Hogsmeade—the ones you and James had used so often. The memories stung, but you pushed them aside. This time, you’d be using the passage alone.

The quickest way to deliver your letter was through the owlery. You knew exactly which owl was the fastest.

As you walked, you let your mind wander to James one last time, allowing yourself the quiet ache of what could’ve been. You would never speak to him again, not like before. That part of your life was over.

Finn was your future now. And while it hurt to admit, deep down, you knew it was for the best.

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[vampiresbloodx]

arcane characters react to you flirting with them;

characters included; mel medarda, caitlyn, vi, sevika.

a/n: it ended up being more of a confession for the most part :q

Mel medarda;

Mel is used to men hitting on her all the time. It happens more than you think and more than she likes. Even during times where it's less appropriate. When Mel first met you, she thought you were strange, in a good way, she liked you instantly. You were friends with Viktor. You had your wits and humor, she liked talking with you and spending time with you when she was supposed to be doing her work.

She couldn't help but linger around you more, you probably thought she was being a creep, but you didn't seem to mind her presence, in fact, you welcomed it.

The night she wanted to come and see you, you had surprised her with your own visit.

"hi-"

"hello-"

you both paused, smiling to yourselves as she stiffs a chuckle in amusement.

you stood there, biting down on your bottom lip.

"mel-"

"yes?" mel said, giving you her full attention.

"I think... you're the most beautiful woman ive ever met, i know you probably get that a lot, but your beauty goes beyond your looks that most people only seem to see of you, i cant blame them, you're a walking goddess, i dont even know why you would even speak to me.... I" you paused, closing your eyes as she felt her heart pick up a pace, as she watches you carefully gather yourself. "I like you. I know i could never be worthy enough to actually date you..."

before you could say more you felt arms wrap around your neck, pulling you in as you smelt her rich scent, you inhaled it in, hoping if this was a dream you wouldnt wake up.

"I've been hoping you'd come to me, I was going to tell you regardless, I'm so glad you told me."

then she kissed you. her lips felt way better than in your dreams.

Caitlyn;

You see a blue haired beauty sitting in a table not far from where the bar is, the place wasnt that loud tonight, which was weird for you. You've grown so used to the noise that the silence is a bit too much.

your other co worker, who was your friend, had finished their shift already and you were the last one left for close. people still hung around until late, business men, bikers, truckers coming in for a drink stop, group of girls coming in for some fun.

The usual.

You thought youve seen it all, then you laid eyes on her.

she was prettier than the night sky.

you wondered why she was sitting by herself looking so pretty in that blue dress, did someone set her up? did her date not come? that seems hard to believe why would anyone miss out on that.

You decided to go over to her.

"Did they not decide to show?" you started up a conversation.

Light and easy.

she looked up, not expecting anyone to talk to her.

"canceled last minute, i hope they crash."

you couldnt help but laugh at that, she smiled.

"Why would they cancel on someone as beautiful as you?" you asked, out loud, god you hoped she didn't think you were a creep.

"are you trying to fill their spot?" she asks boldly with a raised eyebrow, you stared into her gaze.

"I finish in 5."

you lied.

"Doesnt this place stay open for another hour?" she questions.

"so is that a no?"

"I never said that, see you in 5."

Vi;

usually vi would be the one to hit on girls, asking them out, taking them out on dates, flirting with them. but that all changed when she met you, a biker she fell in love with at first sight.

you had come into the bar she was already at, drinking away, she was in a mood, she had gotten in a fight and couldnt be bothered dealing with more idiots.

but you came walking in and stole her whole heart.

she thought you were a creepy man at first, trying to get in her damn pants, when she heard someone sit on the stool next to her, she wanted to curse.

but when she looked and saw you taking off your helmet, her heart stopped.

you caught her staring.

"Hi? is there something on my face?" you asked, nervous.

she wasn't expecting that.

"ah, i got it" she watched you wipe a bit off dirt away from under your eyes, she was captivated by you. "Can i get you a drink?" you asked.

thats usually her line. wait, did you just flirt with her? and she wasnt the one calling the shots?

she froze, blushing hard.

"you okay?" you asked, worried.

"yeah, yeah, uh, its nothing. ill have a whiskey."

"you like whiskey too? youve got taste" you hummed, she bit down on her lip hard.

she let you take her back to yours that night, and she doesnt regret it. neither do you.

sevika;

Sevika wasnt one to take compliments. But secretly, she had a soft spot for them. On the outside, shes rough, shes still rough on the inside, but she only shows those certain softness for those she really cares about.

She knew you for a lil while, you had come in working for Silco, she was obviously wary of you at first and kept her distance.

And a part of her always wanted to be near you.

It started with that and then it turned into something more, she couldn't stop thinking about you.

You couldn't keep your eyes off her whenever she was in the room, you felt your breath leave your body, she was a goddess.

After a few drinks, you couldnt stop yourself from going to the woman who sat by herself, you caught her eyeing you throughout the night.

Deciding your fate, you sit in the chair next to her.

"Sevika, I think you're really pretty.... like so pretty. You can hate me forever if you wanna, but I like you so much" you spilled everything to her, the whole truth, as she sat in silence and watched intensely. "wow, the power of alcohol, im.... ignore what i said, fuck, Ill leave you-"

you felt a strong grip grab your thigh, making you turn your attention back to her.

"Who said I wanted you to leave?" Sevika said with a grin, rubbing her hand on your skin causing your body to shudder from her touch. "You wanna follow me, hm, baby?" she murmured.

You nodded.

and happily followed her into the night.

[genderqueerdykes]

tired transmasc from earlier. My discomfort with those who believe in "transandrophobia" is not from self-hate nor from radfems. It’s from listening to transfems. And I don’t believe men or masculinity are bad at all!! I am in community with with men and mascs and with women + fems all the time. It’s just plain ignorant to say we don’t have male privilege and are actually oppressed for being men. We do have privilege. The whole "everyone is saying men are evil!!" thing sounds so much like incel behaviour it’s really off putting.

hello again! thanks for dropping by, let me see if i can help explain things better, and as to why it's not okay to put down other trans men and deny that they are experience oppression just because you, one person, believes they are not. dont take this personally, but much like gravity, you not believing in it doesn't mean it's not happening. it's happening, you're just refusing to acknowledge it. this is the equivalent of plugging one's ears and humming when someone else starts talking

i'm gonna call this behavior for what it is, because yourself & every other self-flagellating trans man & transmasc who says transandrophobia doesn't exist because it belittles trans women are just hurting people ON PURPOSE with a thin guise of saying "listen to trans women!!!!!" i really hope you understand that trans women can see through that. we can tell that you're doing this specifically to hurt people, not to give trans women a platform to stand on. you think you are telling people to listen to trans women, but what you are doing is SILENCING trans men & mascs in order to do that. you can't do that to your own gender. you're silencing yourself in the process. you're participating in transmasculine erasure and this is not a good thing. don't be proud of that. don't be proud of erasing the things your siblings go through.

I have to be really, really honest with you and tell you that this kissing up to trans women for brownie points stuff is really, really obvious and none of us like it. Like I'm not being mean. Please don't take this in a sarcastic tone. I am stock serious when I say that trans women & transfems can tell when you are doing things to pander to us to act like you care about transfems and transfemininity. We can tell this is desperate virtue signalling to not look transmisogynistic and nothing else. I'm serious. You are hating people on purpose with the guise of trying to help trans women. You do not have to silence someone else in order to let trans women talk and listen to them.

If you do not want transfems & trans women to be silenced: do not silence someone else. You do not solve this problem by silencing someone else. We solve the problem by listening to each other, not forcing the other to sit in silence while only one person talks. You don't solve the problem by doing that exact thing to someone else. You're creating a new problem.

privilege is a power structure, trans men do not suddenly shoot up from oppressed woman to neurotypical cishet white able bodied man in terms of status in society. i need people to get this into their heads that trans men do not and will not ever shoot directly up the privilege ladder and instantly become abusive and predator and holding power over all the other queers. like this is completely fabricated. you can stop believing that now, it's quite literally made up by trans/rad fems because they do not interact with trans men irl to see that they struggle.

trans men are not oppressed for being men: they're oppressed for being TRANS men. the trans part is what they're being oppressed for. do you not see transmascs and trans men as trans? because if so that is highly disturbing. and don't call that "regular transphobia" because that's not true and you know it isn't trans men and mascs are oppressed... for being TRANS men. seriously. you gotta stop focusing on "men bad" so hard that you literally forget that trans men are trans. back it up. like seriously i'm dead serious. back it up one step. before you focus on the "man" part, think about the "trans" part and how you're basically denying that trans men are trans because you are so wrapped up in radfem hate. TRANS men do not become cis men after they come out. they don't become cis men after transitioning. this, quite literally, is transandrophobia. what you said right there is an example of transandrophobia. sober up, you are not thinking clearly.

the thing is that we do not have male privilege wholesale as a group. that is a lie you have been told. you have to realize most trans men never gain any form of cishet male privilege. some trans men may pass well, but if the word gets out that they're trans, they are no longer respected or viewed as a man at all. especially if you're a man of color. trans men may have an amount of privilege depending on the situation, like being someone's manager, but it is not male privilege in every situation, nor is it anywhere near the privilege that cishet perisex white abled men have.

when we have this type of conversation, we are assuming that all trans men are 100% cis passing who will never be questioned. which happens, but that does not mean those trans men do not struggle. in fact, trans men like that suffer greatly in terms of reproductive care. cis passing trans men are often outright denied reproductive care, and some need that to live. some need to see a gynecologist for a variety of reasons, and being a cis passing man can shoot you in the foot. trans men struggle in health care almost universally. trans men are constantly misgendered in medical settings, and are very often treated as though they are cis women by medical staff no matter what. trans men and mascs are also very commonly assaulted by doctors and other medical professionals

most trans men do not get paid more at their jobs. trans men struggle to get promotions. trans men struggle to get employment in male dominated fields. most trans men still deal with homelessness, sexual assault, physical assault, domestic violence, addiction, misogyny and more. trans men deal with corrective rape. trans men deal with stalking. trans men do not magically have it better in society the second they come out. it creates a whole new host of problems

gaslighting strangers and telling them they're not being abused and oppressed isn't helping anyone. i'm serious. please stop this behavior because you are the one hurting people. care about trans men and mascs. you don't have to throw transmascs and trans men under the bus in order for trans women to be heard. we don't need to be pandered to like this. it's not flattering or helping anyone. you don't need to kiss up to people who literally hate your gender.

i need you to understand that people who talk like this hate transmascs and trans men. they don't like you. they don't care about you. leave those kinds of environments. you're going to regret it if you don't. if you're thinking about your oppression aaalllll day long its all you're ever gonna see and eventually, it's gonna crush you under its weight. be careful. that's dangerous thinking.

[thebreakfastgenie]

#honestly it might help some of you to read bigoted ramblings#because so many of you waste a lot of time anxious and arguing about beliefs that these people don’t even have#if you’re going to be anxious anyway you might as well know what they’re actually saying @femalegothic

Yeah I originally included that qualification because of the timing of when I made this post, I didn't want people to assume I was validating the conservatives having meltdowns because people they hate didn't want to talk to them. But I think you're right.

Obviously there's a limit to it, there's a point at which it becomes unhealthy, and that point is different for everyone. But I have been worried for a while about the culture on tumblr that creates a belief that seeing even one bigoted post will trigger an intense meltdown in a marginalized person. I think the "I am actually shaking" and cry-typing posts of yesteryear were so popular because tumblr gave people the idea that that's how they were supposed to react. I think there's also an element of tumblr only being able to take bigotry seriously if it does a certain amount of tangible "harm," which on tumblr looks like provoking an extreme distress reaction in an individual. Bigotry does do harm, including to physical health, but it's generally cumulative exposure that does it. Most people are not going to fall apart if they see one bigoted post, and anyone who is needs to get help coping with it because it's an unfortunate part of the world we live in.

So in some ways you have to pretend this stuff just doesn't exist, except not really, because you still have to care about social justice. So you're supposed to feel righteous anger at theoretical bigots, without ever engaging on any level with the real ones.

These twin expectations create this paralyzing environment of fear. People are scared of things that are not actually happening. People are making up guys to be mad at and, I think more harmfully, afraid of. It's not pretending to be oppressed, a lot of these people face real oppression, they're just guessing at what that oppression looks like. There's absolutely no good in that! And sometimes the real bigotry is just so stupid that it's actually not as bad as what your anxious brain can conjure up. Sometimes it just takes the sting out of it to see what absurd things grown adults actually believe.

And of course it's a cliche, but if you want to do something about it you have to know what you're fighting. It's a lot easier to combat bigotry if you know what people are actually saying and what they actually believe. Even if you're not going to convince the bigots, you need to know what arguments they're using to try to radicalize regular people so you can counter them.

So yeah it would do a lot of you some good to read the bigoted ramblings a little bit I was just trying to put forth the most basic possible baby step of readings things you disagree with because I wasn't sure how much tumblr could handle, lol.

I really think a lot of you need to read things you disagree with more. Not bigoted ramblings but just opinions you don't agree with. So many people on tumblr are terrified of seeing a take they don't like about their favorite show, let alone anything serious. I think it comes from a lack of confidence and security in your own opinions and that leaves you vulnerable to manipulation. Reading an opinion you don't agree with should help you articulate your own opinion and why you believe what you do, which strengthens your position.

[sweetenerly]

Mileven is a relationship not built upon romance, but conformity and confusion. They were kids who couldn’t recognise the difference between deep care for one another, and love. El was the first girl Mike has ever formed a deep connection with, and vice versa. Taught by societal norms he believed that this connection meant they had to become a couple. Boy meets girl, it all made sense. El has lived her whole life isolated in a lab, she obviously had no understanding of these feelings or the concept of romantic love, so she just went along with Mike.

This childish confusion is why as they mature, their relationship is gradually falling apart season by season, episode by episode. As Mike grows up, he starts to understand the difference between platonic and romantic love. He recognises within himself that he never saw El as a romantic interest . That’s why he has such a difficult time verbalising his love, because he can’t admit something that isn’t true. He doesn’t have an issue with being touchy with El, because touch isn’t exclusively romantic. (It only seems to be an issue with Will because he sees actual potential romantic subtext in that and he is trying to repress those feelings but i’m not here to talk about Mikes internalised homophobia)

As for El, we also see that as she adapts into society and learns more about life in general, including romance, she starts holding Mike up to a ”higher”standard (compared to before, objectively it’s the bare minimum) causing conflict between the two because she wants what Mike can’t give her.

The duffers said that this shows main focus isn’t the supernatural stuff, but portraying the journey of each character as they slowly transition into young adulthood. This includes Mike and El growing to realise their relationship isn’t what they thought it would be when they were 12. And that’s okay. That’s why i don’t understand why people try to force mileven to happen when it’s not what either of they want or need anymore.

[littlemissshifter]

Dreaming and Lucid dreaming are Shifting.

Did that make you mad? Good, now read this till the end.

- Dreams: a series of thoughts, images, and sensations occurring in a person's mind during sleep.

- Lucid dreaming: dreams when you know you're dreaming while you're asleep.

- Shifting: a practice where individuals shift their awareness to alternate realities.

DREAMS

Since our awareness is shifting every second, what happens when we go to sleep? When our awareness stops being aware what happens?

Kids, kids, your awareness stops being aware here when you sleep. What about other realities?

When your conscious self goes to sleep, your subconscious self, which is connected to every reality imaginable what does it to?

It explores.

It explores all the different realities without limitations. Those are dreams. Every dream you've had is a different reality.

You are unaware while dreaming. You can't control these dreams. Why? Because did you think you can control your reality before stumbling upon manifesting or shifting? It's conditioning that is common in most of your dreams because you are conditioned that way, to believe reality cannot be controlled. This is why sometimes you can't differentiate between dreams and reality. Because they're both the same thing, one just happens when you're asleep.

We dream every night. The average is about 4-6 times each night. You shift every night. You remember some, you forget some. For me to explain why we forgot I'd have to make a different post because it'd get very long. For now just use Google.

"But why do my dreams revolve around this reality?" you ask. Because you're dreaming with the beliefs and conditioning of this reality.

If you were born in a magical world and were aware there, then your dreams will revolve around magic.

Shifting happens when you become aware of a different reality, When you've known only a particular reality your whole life, you subconscious only goes to different versions of that really. (I said subconscious because your conscious is asleep)

This is not fixed by the way. Like when you see a movie and you dream about it. When you become aware of a different world, you shift to (dream about) a different world.

Emotions play a important role in dreaming as well. They decide what your dream will be in different ways. Example: When you have a crush, you get a dream of being with them, it was fueled by your emotions of wanting to be with them. That there, is a reality where you are in a happy relationship with your crush.

Dreams are you shifting realities while unaware based on your beliefs, emotions, thoughts and conditioning of this particular reality.

Wait, beliefs, emotions, thoughts and conditioning? That sounds familiar. What else does that make? Oh yeah, your CR.

LUCID DREAMING

Now, since we've got the first topic covered, why can we control some dreams and not the other? People train themselves to lucid dream. It is possible to control all your dreams. When you become aware of the spiritual aspect of things, you get more vivid, lucid dreams because that is you taking control back whether it's a dream or your reality.

You can still lucid dreaming without ever knowing any spiritual aspect of anything. Why? Because shifting is the essence of existence. You shift every second, even sleeping.

You become aware in a dream and control it much like you scripted you can similar to your dr. It's the same.

I know what you're thinking, if they're the same, why does lucid dreaming and shifting feel so different?

Because you're aware of the fact that you're lucid dreaming. Emphasis on the dreaming here. You know you can control it, but you think you're still dreaming. 'Dreaming' for us defines that it's not real when in fact it is. If you changed your awareness to it being an actual reality, congratulations you've shifted with full awareness this time.

HOW DOES SHIFTING RELATE TO THEM

Dreaming and Lucid dreaming are a part of shifting. They are sub categories of shifting.

When you DREAM you're unaware of it being a dream, you think it's happening right now, but your conscious is asleep.

When you LUCID DREAM you're only half aware because you still believe that it's a 'dream' that you control.

When you SHIFT you're fully aware. Your conscious and subconscious are both in focused on one reality in front of you, like in your CR.

Everything you know or don't know is a part of shifting. Shifting is everything. Dreams and Lucid dreaming are not that different after all. They are different experiences yes. But the core of shifting is the same everywhere.

WHAT LEAD TO ME FINDING THIS OUT

I actually knew this for sometime, but it didn't hit me until a few days ago. How much we underestimate the mind in our daily life. Thinking shifting is something that leads us somewhere, when in reality it's us that leads shifting. You're all shifters because you're human. Human nature is shifting itself.

I've experimented in my dreams, becoming lucid and telling my mind to shift me places, to shift me back. Just whatever you can think of. The amount of power we hold in our dreams is the same as we hold in our daily life. Why the difference?

Time isn't real, so is reality. Who's to know except you?

Scientists do not know why we dream. Here is your answer.

This is my belief. My knowledge. My knowing. You don't have to accept this. You can think they're different, not at all related. That I'm just spouting nonsense. But then you are forgetting that we're shifting 24/7 why would that not include everything including dreams?

I'm open to opinions and questions. Please be civil and do not fight regarding this. Do not spread misinformation.

[vidavalor]

The Trial

Short thoughts on how Gabriel & Beez could fit back into the story in The Finale & on how Aziraphale's fall would lead to the collapse of the current Heaven/Hell system, in response, as promised, to questions posed by @zenkitty714.

Whoever the guy with the coffee in The Final 15 is, he didn't exactly say that there was a Supreme Archangel job vacancy because Heaven was down for giving Gabriel a watch and telling him to bugger off and go tend to his marigolds. At no point does Our Villain ever actually express one shred of intent to leave Gabriel alone. He simply says that he feels there's a job opening... which all feels a bit sinister since it suggests that there is one because our villains still plan on trying to kill Gabriel.

The Metatron's response to Gabriel mutinying on Monday morning was to try to murder him and we saw exactly nothing in the course of S2 that would indicate that his plans have changed where that is concerned. In order to get Aziraphale into the lift, Our Villain had to lead him to believe that there was a chance-- a remote chance but a chance-- that The Metatron was willing to change and let Heaven reform. Letting it seem like Gabriel and Beez were safe was part of that deception.

Gabriel and Beez were only safe for the brief moment until Aziraphale got into the elevator because our villains needed to pretend like they didn't care about revenge against them in order to sell the idea that Heaven could reform to an understandably doubtful but desperate Aziraphale. Now that they have Aziraphale, though, and have accomplished their goal of going after him first to divide and conquer our main characters, our villains have no need to keep up this charade.

That's why it's a damn good thing that Uriel is on our main characters' side now because she'll be there when Aziraphale falls. She won't be able to stop it without following him to Hell, which wouldn't help either of them or anybody else. What she can do, though, is then be the one to go get Gabriel and Beez and tell them what's happened to Aziraphale. Uriel on the run from Heaven as a result of this and the need to find Crowley will then give them all reason to go to the bookshop, where Muriel will serve her purpose of having witnessed basically all of The Final 15. They'll be able to tell Ineffable Bureaucracy what they missed, with Uriel confirming the bit of what she herself saw before the angels left after following whom they're now realizing was Satan's command to leave.

Wherever Crowley is at the start of The Finale's story in the present, I bet hard that it's going to be Gabriel who goes to get him. It's going to be Gabriel who tells Crowley that the reason why he can't feel Aziraphale anymore isn't because Aziraphale was Book of Life'd-- that's not a real thing. (Notice how the one character who could have answered that question in S2-- Gabriel-- is prevented from even knowing it's a question for the entirety of the season.) It's going to be Gabriel who tells Crowley that he can't feel Aziraphale because Aziraphale fell and Gabriel who talks Crowley off a metaphorical and possibly literal ledge when, at some point, Muriel confirms that Crowley sat there in a chair and told Aziraphale to go alone with a being they all will by then realize was Satan.

What our working-together-on-this-one villains of The Metatron and Satan haven't counted on is that the revolution they're trying to nip in the bud has actually already started. They have overlooked Uriel entirely and didn't anticipate that her response would be to side with Gabriel and help him and Beez over Heaven. They didn't count on Gabriel and Beez helping take care of Crowley. They didn't count on Muriel agreeing to help by giving the bookshop to the revolutionaries. They didn't count that it wouldn't take much for the rebelling angels and demons to get Furfur and his miracle blocking skills involved or Dagon and her Dark Council power on their side.

What our villains really haven't counted on is that Aziraphale is the bridge too far. The angel whose life taught all these other angels and demons how to live is going to be the one to break the system oppressing all of them by having inspired in his own struggles everyone to come together and fight Heaven and Hell for him.

What kind of fight, you say?

One of the Powell & Pressburger films referenced a bunch in S2 and playing on the tv in The Resurrectionist Pub behind Gabriel during the Ineffable Bureaucracy flashback is A Matter of Life and Death and I think a plot like this film is basically where The Finale is headed. You can see it on the tv here as Gabriel does the "Everyday" miracle:

The basic plot of that film centers around a trial where a man who has been outrunning a clerical mistake that caused him to live when he should have died fights to stay alive on Earth to be with the woman he fell in love with. He was a RAF pilot during WW2 whose plane went down. He was supposed to die but a mistake had him live and he fell in love with the air traffic control operator he was talking to on his way down-- the character of June, whose look in the film is the inspiration for Crowley's look in the Before the Beginning scene.

Our hero in the film gets some help from someone who knows how to wrangle Heaven, launch a trial, and who acts as a defense lawyer-- something that I think sounds a lot like a perfect role for Gabriel.

There's also that we now have that we know that Gabriel knows for sure about the body swap in S1 which means he knows that, technically, Aziraphale did get a trial because that's really who Hell put on trial. We had the scene of a drunk Crowley telling Jim this in S2 to show us that Gabriel knows beyond a shadow of doubt that Aziraphale kind of already had a trial so that we can appreciate it when he then lies his ass off to The Metatron for his friends and claims they never gave Aziraphale a trial. 😉

Trials are a big thing in Good Omens' Heaven & Hell and in its finales in both seasons so far... even if they've been sham trials so far... but there's one of our main characters who hasn't gotten one yet, right?

Gabriel's trial was shown in the S2 finale and, back in S1, Hell gave whom they thought was Crowley a trial. However, Heaven never actually gave who they thought was Aziraphale a trial in S1 and they won't before sending him to Hell at the start of The Finale, either.

Gabriel and Beez know how to work the system and I think that they are going to lead an effort to challenge Aziraphale's status as a demon by filing a challenge to it that forces Heaven to give Aziraphale a trial. (Aziraphale is going to insist as this goes on that he goes nowhere without Crowley and it might result in them both being on trial.)

What will really be on trial, though, is the system of Heaven/Hell itself because, if our characters can win the trial, it will mean that they have proven that Heaven isn't infallible in their assessment. That would collapse Heaven and Hell because all the demons would challenge their own statuses and all the angels would realize that Heaven can make mistakes and this is all bullshit, which is likely what happens when all is said and done.

One part of the film is that one of the lawyers also demands a trial by jury with a diverse jury pool to ensure a fair trial, which would be very different from what we've seen happen with the characters in Good Omens so far. It would have to happen in The Finale for this plot to exist.

I think one of the results of the trial is that this group of angels and demons challenging Heaven here wind up demanding that The Metatron produce God and exposing him as a fraud when it's revealed that he can't, actually, because he doesn't speak for God and all of Heaven and Hell is a sham.

Satan figured it out long ago but cut a deal with The Metatron to stay quiet in exchange for having his own kingdom down there in Hell. The two of them are in a bit of a mutually-assured destruction pact where they co-exist to use the threats of one another to control the angels and demons they're oppressing.

When the trial leads to the overthrowing of The Metatron, the demise of Satan might be an actual battle of sorts but the end result is that both of them will be gone by the end and the angels and demons will be set up to form an united, more democratic form of government. The threat of Armageddon will be over, allowing for Crowley and Aziraphale to South Downs Cottage it in peace.

That's how Aziraphale's fall can be the thing that brings down the whole house of cards... as S2 seemed to possibly be suggesting:

[pantiesandpamperssissypart2]

You love them when you give birth to them, you love them as you raise them through thick and thin, you love them as they go out into the real world and make their own way.

And...you...love them when...they throw away their life because of a crippling diaper addiction, get divorced and have to move in with a dominant man known as daddy who has feminized your son and turned him into a sissified diaper-wearing faggot.

Those were the thoughts going through Brenda's mind as she wandered out of her bedroom to find her son, well, former son, Cory standing in the kitchen of his master's house getting his daddy's breakfast ready. How could this happen, she wondered, silently watching the Pampers-wearing pansy who had been all-conference in three sports and played college baseball. Were there signs when he was younger that he wanted to be put back into diapers? Did she just miss them? What in the actual fuck?

And yet she did still love her son...daughter...sissy fag...whatever his moniker was now.

"Morning," she said to him, her, it, not wanting to call him, her it by his new sissy name of Popsie. Look at that hair. And the growing breasts. And of course the ever-present diaper. Thick, crinkly, permanently imprisoning him.

"He'll be in them 24/7 for the rest of his life," his master had told Brenda the previous night as she sat on the couch, the master sat on his recliner and Popsie sat sucking a pacifier on the floor at his master's feet, clutching a teddy bear while wearing a T-shirt reading "Pampers Forever. "He'll need them too, believe me. For everything."

Brenda knew that meant poopy and pissy diapers.

"You're welcome to change her anytime, if you feel comfortable," the master had assured her. No way she could do that. Changing her 29-year-old sissy fag of a former son's diapers? Could she? Maybe. Because she did still love him. And wouldn't want him getting a rash.

But now in the morning Brenda felt a tear running down her cheek as she remembered Cory's wife Casey. Such a beautiful girl and soul who had been blindsided when Cory had been outed to her as a diaper fag. The divorced followed quickly. She had found a new man fairly quickly, a real one most likely. And her son too had found a real man. Where would this end?

His master--who had invited Brenda to come stay for the weekend and see how her son now lived--had said eventually he wanted Popsie not speaking any adult words. "Whether I do that through training or surgeries we'll see." Just a blubbering, incontinent, chastised (he'd shown her that too) failure of a son.

But you still had to love them, even through this. Right?

[mads-hemmo]

It’s Nice to Have a Friend - Jschlatt

Part 7

Masterlist

Reader has been lonely their whole life. They have never been in a relationship. They don’t understand why no one will love them but their best friend, Schlatt has always been in love with them.

The first part of this part is fluff then the next part is just smut, so mdni. 18+ only. This is also the official last part, so thank you for the support on it. Also I know Reader has been gn up to this point but they are now afab for smut purposes.

You and Schlatt have now been dating for a little over three months. It has been pure bliss and everything has been going great. You still have kept your relationship only between the two of you. The most you have done is make out with some touching, but you felt more was going to happen soon.

Today is your birthday and Schlatt was doing whatever he could to spoil you. He surprised you with tickets to see Wicked on broadway. He requested that you both dress up so he could make the night extra special. Before the show, Schlatt takes you out to a fancy dinner at a steakhouse. He tells you it’s not as good as Boa, but it’s definitely up there.

As you sip from your wine glass, you look over at Schlatt who is smiling at you like an idiot. “What?” You ask him. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Nothing. You’re just so beautiful and I can’t believe you’re mine,” he tells you. “Are you excited for the show?”

You nod, excitedly. You had seen your fair share of Broadway shows living in New York, but watching one with Schlatt made you very happy. “Yes I am. Thank you for everything. You know you don’t have to splurge on me just because it’s my birthday.”

“Don’t worry about it, Toots. I like spoiling you. You deserve it. It’s your twenty-fifth birthday. It needs to be special.”

You roll your eyes, affectionately at him. After you both finish your meals, you make your way to the show. Once you find your seats, you realize that he bought you the best ones. “Jay,” you let out, surprised.

He just smiles at you. “Let’s sit,” he says, grabbing your hand in his.

The show starts and you watch in awe at the performers. You feel Schlatt’s eyes watching you, but you ignore it. His thumb rubs the back of your hand. During intermission, you finally look back over at Schlatt. He has that same dumb look on his face. “Isn’t it amazing? They are so talented. I’m so ready for the second act,” you tell him.

“Yeah I’m actually enjoying it. But the view beside me is much better to look at,” he says.

You slap his arm slightly. “Shut up and watch the show. You spent too much money to not actually watch it. You can look at me anytime.” You squint your eyes at him in a slight scowl.

He kisses your temple. “As long as you're happy, I’m happy.”

You roll your eyes as act 2 starts. You realize that Schlatt’s eyes are actually focused on the stage. You smile to yourself, happy that he seems to be enjoying himself.

After the show, you get in his car to head back to his apartment. Ever since you started dating, you have spent most nights at his. Yours mainly just acts as a storage and holds some of your clothes. You already have a space in his closet and the majority of your hair products and makeup are in his bathroom.

On the ride home, Schlatt gushes over the show. He suggests that you go see shows more often. Especially if it means seeing you happy. You’re honestly shocked about how much he enjoyed it.

When you finally arrive back at his apartment, you can feel the sexual tension starting to build. Once you walk inside, his lips immediately connect to yours. “As much as I like this dress, I think it would look better off,” Schlatt groans in your ear.

You think tonight is the night and you’re ready. This will be your first time, but you trust Schlatt. He pulls away from you. His brown eyes somehow look even darker. “Take me upstairs,” you command.

Schlatt picks up as if you weigh nothing. You squeal slightly when he picks you up. He carries you to his bedroom before placing you on the bed. His lips immediately press against yours. You can already feel his bulge growing as he rubs against you. He deepens the kiss by exploring your mouth with his tongue.

This is how most of your nights have been. You make out for what feels like hours. When Schlatt can’t take it anymore, he goes to take a shower to relieve himself. You pull away from him slightly. “I’m ready. I want you to fuck me tonight,” you tell him.

Schlatt groans. “Are you sure?” He asks.

“Yes I’m sure. I’m ready and I want you. Bad.”

He kisses you again. He reaches behind you to unzip your dress. It slowly falls down your body. Schlatt helps you fully remove it and throws it across the room. He takes in your body, enjoying the matching set you put on. “These are really nice. Too bad, they will be coming off soon,” Schlatt says, kissing your jaw down to your chest.

You help him take off his coat jacket then work on unbuttoning his shirt. He does it for you. Schlatt throws it all off including his tie. You rub your hand softly over the bulge you see forming in his pants. He lets out a soft moan. “Can I suck you off? You may need to help me through it though,” you tell him.

“Fuck, toots. You’re going to be the death of me. Kill me if I ever say no to that question.”

You laugh slightly, helping him out of his tight trousers. You can’t even see him fully, but you know he’s huge just from the outline in his boxer. You start panicking a little bit imagining it inside of you. Schlatt seems to sense your anxiety, so he kisses you. You smile against his lips.

As he kisses you, he slips off his boxers. You pull away and look at him in awe. He’s huge and you want him in your mouth immediately. You kiss the tip before taking it in your mouth. You start sucking lightly, making sure to cover your teeth. The room fills with Schlatt’s moans. You take more of his cock in your mouth. You start speeding up a bit. You enjoy hearing Schlatt’s moans turn into whimpers. You go down further on him until you start coughing a bit.

“Don’t hurt yourself, baby. Just take it slow. If you need to stop, you can,” he comforts you.

“I’m okay,” you tell him, taking him back in your mouth.

“Use your hands if you can’t fit it all. Spit on them or I can grab some lube to make it feel good,” he tells you.

You spit on both your hands before using them to rub his cock. You put your mouth back on him. You start speeding up again, getting the hang of it. Schlatt’s hands go to the back of your head making a ponytail out of your hair.

After a little while, he pulls you off of him. “I was about to come. If I come, I’ll be knocked out,” he tells you.

Schlatt helps you out of your bra. As soon as it’s off, his mouth attaches to one of your breasts. He takes his time with you. You feel yourself soaking your panties and you’re getting impatient. You want him inside you already. After he’s done with your breast, he kisses down your stomach to your panties. “Damn, Toots. You’re soaked already and I’ve barely touched you,” he teases.

“I know. Can you just fuck me already?” You plead.

“Be patient. This is your first time, so I’ll have to prep you first. I’ll fuck you when you’re ready, but don’t be a brat.”

He quickly rips your panties down your legs. He kisses your thighs, completely ignoring your wet core. “Jay,” you beg. You’re not sure how much more you can take.

“I’m only being nice since it’s your birthday,” he says, before finally delving in. He wastes no time sucking on your clit then licking long strips down your center.

The sounds that come out of your mouth are foreign to your ears. The pleasure is too much that you’re scared you may come in seconds. You feel Schlatt’s finger start to tease your hole. He finally inserts it softly while continuing to suck on your clit. You throw your head back as he goes a bit quicker. When he thinks you’re ready, he inserts another finger. He starts scissoring to open you up.

“Fuck you’re so tight. I don’t think I’m going to last when I get to finally be inside you,” Schlatt tells you as you continue to moan.

“Jay,” you groan when his mouth goes back to your clit. He continues to work you open. You start worrying you’re going to come soon, but he hasn’t even been inside you yet.

After what feels like hours, he pulls his fingers out. “I think you’re ready. I’m going to go slow. It is going to hurt at first, but I’ll try to be as soft as I can. There may be a mess, but we can clean it up. Are you ready?”

You nod at him. You’ve been thinking about this moment for a while now and it’s finally happening. As it’s your first time, you’re not sure what to expect but it’s Schlatt. You have immense trust for him.

He leans over to grab a condom from his nightstand. He opens the packets and delicately rolls the condom on. Schlatt lines himself up. You feel like you’re being ripped apart by his girth even though only the tip is in. You feel a tear slowly fall down your cheek. He kisses your forehead as he pushes in a bit more.

“Fuck,” you yell out, your eyes feeling up with tears.

“I know, baby. It will only hurt for a bit. Let me know when I can move and I will,” Schlatt tells you. He moves the hair out of your face and pecks your lips softly. His rough fingers wipe the stray tears from your eyes.

When you get used to the feeling inside you, you nod. “You can move,” you tell him.

“I’ll go slow. Tell me if you want me to stop.”

Schlatt slowly pulls out of you then pushes out again. He keeps doing that before he picks up his pace. It starts to feel pleasurable again. You clench around him, wanting to keep him close.

“Fuck toots. If you keep doing that, I don’t know how long I’ll last,” he groans. He presses his lips to your as he goes faster. Schlatt’s hands rest on your hips to give him better leverage. You hold on his forearms and start matching his pace. You’re not sure why it took so long to do this.

“Jay. Fuck,” you moan against his lips. There’s so much you want to say, but you’re at a loss for words.

He groans against your lips. Your noises meld together. You can tell he’s just as close as you are. “I’m coming,” you yell out.

Schlatt continues to fuck you through it until he reaches his climax. “(Y/N),” he moans out. Once he finishes, he slowly pulls out of you. He takes off the full condom and disposes of it. He goes into the bathroom to grab a towel. You look down to see the mess you made. You’re scared when you see blood, but you were sure you weren’t supposed to start for another week.

Schlatt comes in with the towel. “I’m sorry,” you start, looking back at the mess.

“It’s okay. That’s why I brought the towel to clean you up,” he tells you. He comes over and starts to wipe you up.

“I didn’t realize I had started. If I knew, we could have waited.”

Schlatt starts to chuckle slightly. “That’s not your period. Have you ever heard the term, ‘popping the cherry?’”

“Ohh,” you say, realizing what happened. “That’s gross. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I knew it was going to happen. It’s just part of it.” Schlatt walks over to you and kisses your temple. “How about you hop in the shower and I’ll change the sheets?”

You nod, getting up. You struggle a bit, so Schlatt helps you on your feet. “I love you,” you tell him, pecking his lips.

“I love you too. Go hop in the shower. You’ll feel a lot better. Afterwards, we can cuddle and I’ll play with your hair.”

“How about after you change the sheets, you join me? It is my birthday after all,” you wink at him, making your way to the shower.

Your twenty-fifth has been your best birthday yet and it’s all thanks to Schlatt. You’re insanely glad he confessed his feelings to you months ago. Being Schlatt’s best friend was amazing, but being Schlatt’s partner was somehow entirely better. You look forward to more moments together. But for now, all you can think about is him joining you in the shower for round two.

A/N: omg my baby is finally finished!! Thank you for the constant support!! I have many things planned so stayed tuned. I also got inspired with it being reader’s birthday as my 25th birthday is coming up soon! Lots of love!!

[bestalbertcamuslover]

Platinum Blonde

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

✯ pairing:  RB! Sebastian Vettel x Engineer! Reader ✯

✯ content warnings: none ✯

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

Coming back to work after the break wasn’t the most thrilling experience. Sure, she loved her job, but there was something about vacation that always seemed sweeter—maybe just a little more time off would’ve been nice. However, any lingering post-vacation blues vanished the moment she walked into the paddock and saw that sight.

Sebastian Vettel, rocking platinum blonde hair.

She blinked, doing a double take as if her eyes were playing tricks on her. That hair color—so bold, so unexpected—had an oddly magnetic effect on her. She always thought he was good-looking and undeniably charming, but somehow, the shock of bright blonde only amplified it. She found herself stealing glances, fighting the urge to stare, wondering how such a simple change could leave her feeling so off-balance.

She threw herself into her work, as focused as ever, yet every break felt like a betrayal of her resolve. Her eyes would inevitably wander, seeking him out across the garage or wherever he happened to be. What’s wrong with me? she wondered, internally chastising herself as her thoughts began to drift into muddier, more unprofessional territories.

The question that kept looping in her mind—the one that embarrassed her more than anything—was whether he noticed. Did he catch her staring? Did he notice how her words stumbled slightly whenever he walked by? That ridiculous hair color wasn’t helping either. It only made him more distracting, more present.

She shook her head, trying to dismiss the idea, but deep down, the thought made her heart race. What if he knew? What if he could see right through her calm façade? The possibility both terrified and thrilled her.

She had just managed to lose herself in her clipboard and notes when the shadow fell over her desk. She looked up, and there he was. The hair was just as bright under the sunlight as it had been in the garage, and the smirk on his face told her that he had caught her off guard.

“Busy as ever, huh?” Sebastian said, his voice warm and laced with playful curiosity.

She blinked, scrambling to gather her composure. “Yeah, you know, making sure everything’s perfect,” she replied, gesturing to the papers in front of her like they were the most important thing in the world.

His smirk deepened. “That’s good. Though I have to say, you seem... distracted today.”

Her stomach flipped. Did he know? Did he actually notice the way she’d been stealing glances all day? “Distracted? No, I’m just focused,” she said quickly, forcing a tight smile.

“Focused,” he repeated, his tone teasing, as if he didn’t buy it for a second. He leaned slightly closer, resting a hand on the edge of her desk. “Is that why you’ve been staring at me every chance you get?”

Her cheeks burned instantly, and she fumbled for a response, caught completely off guard by his boldness. “I wasn’t staring” she stated, but even to her, the denial sounded unconvincing.

His grin grew wider, and he tilted his head, studying her with those sharp, knowing eyes. “No? Must’ve been my imagination, then,” he said lightly, though his tone made it clear he didn’t believe her for a second.

She opened her mouth to respond, but couldn’t think of anything that didn’t sound like an admission. He let her squirm for a moment before stepping back, giving her space to breathe.

“I’m just messing with you,” he said, his voice softer now, though there was still a mischievous glint in his eye. “But if you do have any thoughts on the hair, feel free to share.”

She hesitated, caught between embarrassment and the undeniable pull of his easy charm. Finally, she blurted out, “It’s… bold.”

Sebastian chuckled, running a hand through his platinum locks. “Bold, huh? I’ll take that as a compliment.”

She managed a small laugh, finally starting to relax. “It’s definitely… eye-catching.”

“Good to know,” he said, giving her a wink before straightening up. “Well, don’t work too hard, okay? I’d hate to think I’m the one distracting you.”

Before she could respond, he walked away, leaving her with her heart racing and her thoughts spinning. That grin, that hair—it was going to be a very long weekend.

And it was, yet, a great weekend for the team as Sebastian won the race with a large gap behind him. The exhilaration from wins was always strong, and gosh, her stomach felt like a nest of butterflies after they had all drunk a few Red Bulls.

The team’s celebration was in full swing. Music thumped, champagne flowed freely, and laughter filled the air. But she couldn’t shake the feeling of her heart pounding for reasons beyond the race. It wasn’t the thrill of the victory—it was the sight of Sebastian, his platinum hair slightly mussed, his grin wide as he soaked up the joy of the moment. He was magnetic, more so than usual, and it was driving her mad.

After a while, she needed a break from the noise and slipped away from the crowd, weaving through the garage to find some peace. She found herself close to Sebastian’s driver’s room, the door slightly ajar. Peeking in, she saw him sitting on the couch, his race suit peeled down to his waist, a bottle of water in hand. He looked up and saw her hovering in the doorway.

“Hey,” he said, his voice softer than it had been all night. “Hiding from the party?”

She smiled sheepishly and stepped inside. “Something like that. Needed some air.”

He gestured to the spot beside him. “Come in. I promise not to celebrate too loudly.”

She hesitated for a moment before taking the seat, the quiet hum of the garage a stark contrast to the chaos outside. They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, and then he spoke again, his tone teasing. “So, was it the hair? Did it bring me luck?”

She laughed, shaking her head. “No, I think it was the driver.”

“Good answer,” he said, leaning back against the couch, his gaze lingering on her. “You seemed pretty excited out there. Nice to see you loosen up.”

She rolled her eyes but smiled. “It’s hard not to when the team does so well.”

He nodded, but his eyes didn’t leave her. “And yet, you still seem a little... distracted.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “I could say the same about you,” she countered, trying to deflect.

He smirked. “Touché. But let’s not pretend we don’t both know what’s going on here.”

Her stomach flipped at his words, the intensity in his gaze making it hard to breathe. “Seb, I—”

Before she could finish, he leaned in, closing the small distance between them. His lips brushed hers softly, testing, giving her every chance to pull away. But she didn’t. Instead, she leaned into him, her hands finding his shoulders as the kiss deepened.

When they finally broke apart, her cheeks were flushed, and his grin was wider than she’d ever seen. “Guess that’s one way to celebrate,” he said, his voice low and teasing.

She laughed, her nerves melting into something warmer. “Don’t get used to it,” she joked, though the look in her eyes said otherwise.

“Oh, I will,” he replied, his tone full of playful confidence. “You’ll just have to deal with it.”

Before she could fire back a response, he leaned in, catching her off guard as his lips pressed against hers. It was soft at first, testing the waters, but when she didn’t pull away—when she leaned into him instead—it deepened. Her hands instinctively reached up, fingers brushing through his hair. That hair.

When they finally broke apart, both slightly breathless, he raised an eyebrow, his playful grin returning. “So... do you hate it?”

“Hate it?” she repeated, laughing softly as she ran her fingers through the strands again, this time with purpose. “Seb, I loved it the second I saw it. It’s infuriating how much it affects me.”

His grin widened, clearly pleased. “Infuriating, huh? I can live with that.”

She rolled her eyes, but there was no denying the warmth in her gaze. “I mean, it’s obnoxiously bold and completely unnecessary, but somehow... it works.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he teased, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “So, you’re saying the platinum blonde was a good decision?”

She sighed dramatically, though the way her hands stayed tangled in his hair betrayed her. “I’m saying it’s... distracting. You walk into a room, and I forget how to form coherent sentences.”

Sebastian laughed, the sound low and warm as his hands rested on her waist. “Good to know. I’ll keep that in mind next time I need to get your attention.”

“You’re insufferable,” she muttered, though her smile said otherwise.

“And you’re still holding onto my hair,” he pointed out with a wink.

“Oh, shut up,” she said, pulling him back in for another kiss, this one bolder, as if to prove a point.

He didn’t argue, and instead leaned into the kiss, his hands finding her waist.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

✯ authors note: I really love platinum blonde hair, is such a turn on tbh

English is not my first language and I hope you liked it <3

[angellekookie]

Always Been There | MYG - PART 1.

Summary: Ever since the new kid moved into your cousin's old house, your life has been different.

Genre: Childhood Friends to Lovers AU, (half-sided) Academic Rivals to Lovers, it's romance- fluffy romance, maybe cliché (this is a warning)

WC: 5.1 K

Other Tags: Friend! Teahyung (mentioned), Cousin! Seokjin (mentioned)

Warnings: Brief mention of alcohol consumption, Idk if I missed any, but let me know.

Pairings: Min Yoongi x F! Reader

Dividers by @thecutestgrotto

You never perceived yourself as a competitive child. You were usually quiet and reserved, often opting to be engaged in any book, watch television or play the occasional video game with your older cousin, Seokjin, who lived just down the street. This all changed one summer when your uncle got a new job in Seoul and had to move. Obviously, you missed him, he was your favourite cousin, your best friend. So every day you’d walk to your uncle’s old house hoping he’d come back from his new job and bring Seokjin home with him.

Days melted into weeks and the “For Sale” sign on the gate seemed to get bigger and bigger as if it existed solely to mock you. Or maybe it only appeared ten times the size because you stared at it so often, studying it, willing anything to change.

Summer's end brought you an initially pleasant surprise. This time, when you walked to Jin's house you saw people going back and forth taking boxes from a moving truck. Obviously, you thought that the day couldn’t get any better, your young mind not even considering that it could actually get worse.

Excitement led your feet through the gate and inside the yard where you saw a boy with his back turned to you. He appeared a bit shorter than how you remembered your cousin, but excitement didn’t let you think on that too much. Besides, surely you grew in the last few months, of course Jin wouldn’t look as tall to you any more.

The next five seconds happened both breathtakingly fast and painstakingly slow. The next five seconds changed what you thought was the best day of your life to the single worst day of your entire existence.

One second you were running towards your “cousin,” the next second you were making an unplanned descent, landing at the feet of who you later discovered was the son of your new neighbours.

At eight years old, maybe you still believed that kindness was the default setting of the world and expected the same from the boy looking down at you with his pale, chubby face. But whether it was disgust on his face, disdain—or maybe perhaps you were lucky and he just didn’t care—you didn’t know. What you did know was that you had to leave and you had to leave immediately.

That evening your parents barely managed to console you after you came home crying with a bruised kneecap. You were silent all through dinner and hardly gave any attention to what they were saying about inviting people somewhere and someone close in age. You had enough on your plate already with trying to forget the sheer embarrassment you had endured earlier in what you had once considered a safe space and the brussels sprouts your mother had insisted you eat tonight.

After that day, Min Yoongi became a constant in your life.

As luck would have it, your parents were speaking about your new neighbours that night. About how they meant to introduce themselves to them so they would feel welcomed to the neighbourhood. About the son they had who was around two years older than you, and how you both could be great friends.

You never anticipated that your mother would become best friends with Yoon Misook, which meant that you would come to spend a lot of time with the Mins. Birthday parties, holiday celebrations, family get-togethers… if you can name it, you had to be there and you had to be there with him.

Min Yoongi loved being right. There was always unmistakable joy present on his otherwise expressionless face when he knew he was right. Like when he beat you at chess, or told you that tomato was actually a fruit- it didn’t matter because you still didn’t like eating them anyways. You enjoyed wiping the smug little smirk right off his face. The thing was that you loved being right too, or rather, you greatly enjoyed telling Min Yoongi he was wrong. Enjoyed telling him that the sun was in fact a star, feeling higher than any sugar rush could take you when you let him know that acetic acid wasn’t technically vinegar- just a part of it. This was much to the dismay of both your parents, your friends, teachers, and anyone else who had the pleasure of having you both around at the same time.

Although maybe you should thank him.

During the school year, some time after your first meeting with Yoongi, you were sitting in his living room completing homework. His brows were furrowed in a delicate mix of concentration and confusion. You had stretched over to his side to see what was the matter, to see if you perhaps needed to ask his mother or older brother for help. “Yoongi-oppa, what’s wrong?” He didn’t look at you, for a second you wondered if he even heard you. You were going to nudge him with your pencil until he said your name. “Don’t worry about it. You won't understand it anyways.” His brows furrowed even more as he continued to work on his assignment.

Now you weren't planning to help him by any means. He was older than you and you were sure his fifth-grade math would give your third-grade math a run for its money. But him implying that you couldn't even understand it struck a nerve in your young brain. “Lemme see it, please, please, pleasee. Yoongiii-” he released a heavy sigh and turned his workbook towards you. Of course you were pleased with getting your way.

There were shapes, you definitely recognized the triangle and other shapes. You also knew about perimeter, but as you read further down the page admittedly some of the questions you didn’t quite understand just how they expected to get all those answers from a few shapes. It was your turn to have your brows furrowed in confusion.

Noting the shift in your facial expression, Yoongi took his workbook back. You looked up to find him looking at you with one eyebrow raised and a smug little smile on his face. He was daring you to say something, anything. You knew that, but you had nothing to say. “I told you.” He’d said, and hearing your silence, Yoongi knew that he was in fact right and a chuckle managed to escape him. You only huffed and returned to your seat, barely managing to finish the last question of your own assignment.

That night you swore it would be the last time you’d let Min Yoongi look at you like that. Call it your villain origin. Sheer spite, divine motivation, whatever it was and whatever it took you knew you just had to be better than you were, better than him eventually.

You had spent even more time with your face buried in books than you used to. If you were an academic weapon before, you made it your mission to become an academic armoury now. The next few years saw you move from just being at the top of your class, to being the top of the school- overtime skipping a grade and ending up in the same class as your favourite neighbour.

You still remember how he was laughing with his friends, completely unaware of your presence until the homeroom teacher called you up to the front to introduce you to the class. He was surprised, you’d hardly ever seen him surprised by anything, much less anything you’ve done. He often had little to no emotions on his face and after eight years of knowing him, you’d come to know that any emotion outside of his usual scope of nothing was absolutely monumental.

As much as possible, you tried to steer clear of Yoongi while at school except for some instances where a teacher thought it a good idea to have you both working together (that mistake was hardly made a second time). You’d quickly learn that in his first year of high school, Yoongi, who lacked any decent manners and people skills, was somehow popular among the students. You noticed how girls often giggled with their friends when they passed him, or how you would see him laugh more with his own group of friends than he ever did with you back home. This was understandable as the both of you only ever really managed to get on each other’s nerves.

Despite all this, he’d hardly ever let you walk home alone even when you insisted that you could walk home with literally any of your other friends, anybody but him. He says it's because he knows you enjoy his company though you refuse to admit it. “As if,” You would tell him. “Personally, I have better things to do than pretend to enjoy spending time with the likes of you.” You ignore the voice that tries to tell you that it's a good thing he’s here with you and not with one of the girls in his little fan club. You ignore the same voice as it tries to tell you that you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

Instead, you swat his hand away when he attempts to flick your forehead. Instead, your laughs echo through Daegu streets as you run from him. There's no point in running. Of course, he'll catch you, just like he always has, and maybe he always will. So even though your lungs burn, and Min Yoongi is annoying, and you're not even close to being the prettiest girl at school, there's a big grin on your face. This moment was yours, yours alone.

Once as you were preparing for your last lesson of the day, Yoongi sat down beside you in the empty classroom. Before you could comment on it, other students came in and started filling up seats one by one. Throughout the class, you noticed that Eunji had taken the seat to his left. That’s no problem, she and her ponytail could sit wherever they wanted. If only she didn’t keep asking him things every five minutes or so. You weren't counting. But you wondered if he could ever learn anything with her practically in his ear the entire time, you wondered if she knew she was distracting the entire class trying to breath down Yoongi’s neck.

You felt sick, maybe. There was a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach and it felt just a bit difficult to breathe. But you also felt like you could burst. You weren’t sure if you liked it. Thankfully, class had finally ended and students began leaving as quickly as they came in. You wouldn’t have to endure... whatever that was any more.

You were just packing up when you heard a deep voice beside you, “If you stared any longer, given your track record, I’d have to believe you had a crush on me or something.” He makes it his mission to ensure you never forget the one time you tripped and fell to his feet when you were children. Due to either mild irritation, embarrassment or something else you could feel the blood rushing up to your face, so you decide to slow your movements in hopes that he wouldn’t see it.

“Please, Yoongi. Do I look like I'd want to waste my intelligence on harbouring romantic affections for you.” You hear him scoff behind you and you turn your head just enough to see him raise his eyebrow, looking at you incredulously.

“’Yoongi?’ We dropped the honorifics now?”

“We’re classmates, I didn’t think it was necessary.” You decided to face him, mirroring his raised eyebrow with your own, challenging him. “Is there a problem, Yoongi? I mean, if it’s so important to you I could always just start calling you ahjuss-”

"Yoongi, is fine." For the second time today there's a hint of surprise on his face, and the ghost of a smile that you weren’t quite sure what to make of it. You wanted to smile too, but suddenly you remembered Eunji beside him in class and the smile never came to be. You didn’t want to tell him that he had all the girls in the school to call him whatever he wanted them to, that perhaps you felt a bit intimidated by the older, more mature girls that he had around whenever you saw him. You didn’t want to tell him that because you’ve been actively avoiding feeling that way for some time. You didn’t want to tell him anything like that for fear of him actually laughing you to scorn, for fear of him hitting you with his infamous blank stare. You’ve had your fair share of first-hand experiences with it.

Instead of all the things you weren’t ready to face, weren’t ready to say, you tell him “I can’t walk home with you today. Me, Taehyung and Ara have uhmm, something. I’ll see you later.” There was nothing. But you left to find your friends before he could have a chance to say anything else to you.

It’s been a year since you graduated high school. Summer brought you back to your hometown for the first time since you moved in with your uncle to be closer to university in Seoul. You weren’t the only students home for break so naturally, you ran into a few of your old classmates. Some of them mentioned a get together on the field behind the school that was coming up. You couldn’t not know about it. You remember barely stepping off the bus with Yoongi when Sooyoung greeted you both and first suggested the idea. That’s how you found yourself on the field with him (and the drinks) waiting for the others to show up.

Soon everybody that could make it sat down on the grass and Sooyoung started pouring out the drinks in cups and passing them around. The first taste is... bitter. You try to drink more, you’ve heard a few people say it's an acquired taste.

The night went on, conversations eventually straying away from the generic “How are you” and “what are you up to now.” to be more meaningful (as meaningful as it gets when alcohol is involved.) Socially, you were there. You contributed to the conversation occasionally- laughing when something was funny, nodding if you agreed with something, sprinkling in a “nah” when you didn’t agree with something else.

Occasionally though, you would stare at the amber liquid in your cup. It was taking everything in you not to gag when you took yet another sip. The cup is put down beside you, you don’t think you’ll be acquiring that taste anytime soon. Said cup gets to sit there for approximately thirty seconds before it finds residence in Yoongi’s hands. He’s drinking your drink. Yet you can’t find it in you to complain because you really, really don’t like it. You decide to leave well enough alone.

It’s not until a new cup is placed before you by the drink thief himself that decide to look at him. He’s not looking at you, of course he’s not. He never looks at you when he’s with his friends. Not that it matters, not that you care. At least it was nice of him to get you a new drink, maybe he’s a semi-decent human being. Your thoughts momentarily pause when instead of an involuntary gag, a pleasant, surprised hum escapes your lips.

His eyes have crinkled at the corners because someone just said something funny. He’s using a single hand behind him as support and is nursing a drink with the other. He looks as carefree as ever. You can’t imagine that he’d take note of something so small, something like that- even if you grew up together. You'll try to brush it aside, though you doubt it's something that you’d be likely to forget about anytime soon. There’s a warmth blooming in your chest, you’ll blame it on the alcohol from earlier.

Christmas was just around the corner. The crisp, chilly air and stressed college students cramming for finals were more than enough to let you know the festive season was upon you. You sat in the new sandwich shop that you believe was strategically nestled between the library and the café. A cup of coffee remained untouched to your left and sandwich in hand, you were currently with your friend, Hyewon, who was not so subtly trying to get you to agree to go on a blind date. She's been trying ever since she found out your last date was almost a year ago, that it never ended well romantically, that you and Hoseok decided to become friends and still are today. "I'm telling you, he's really handsome and smart," said between a mouthful of her sandwich and a sip of her coffee. "My sister said he graduated from Yonsei this year with like, first class honours in economics or something."

"I'm just... still thinking about it."

And the truth is, you were. Ever since the topic came up nearly a month ago after one of your shared classes. After Hyewon got over her shock because "A girl like you should have dates every weekend," she took it upon herself to find you a date.

It's not that you were against dating, and relationships. During your earlier college years you tried a few times. Your first date tried to explain the basics of aerospace engineering to you, the thing you were majoring in. He was a history major, said he couldn't believe a girl could actually study something like that and asked how much your parents paid to get you in the program. You laughed it off and attempted to push it aside, that date ended early. You went on a few more dates after that but it always felt the same, like you were trying too hard to impress your date, like they weren't trying hard enough to get to know you. You decided to just focus on your studies. At the very least, you knew you were good at that.

“Please tell me yes- there’s a drone show next Friday at the Han River. You guys could watch it.” Hyewon looked so excited you promised to let her know by Monday. She squealed and you were sure you would have seen your ancestors if she had hugged you any tighter, told you not to forget to call her as she bounced off to her last final.

You remained in your corner seat. Unsure why you didn’t just leave with your friend. A couple of girls sat at the table behind you. While you were nursing your now cold hot chocolate you were hearing bits and pieces of their conversation. It’s not that you wanted to eavesdrop, but you couldn’t help the way your ears perked up when one of them mentioned ‘medical student from Yonsei’ and ‘date’ in the same sentence.

“I’m telling you he’s pretty quiet, and cute. I don’t even know how they got him to agree.”

“Ugh! I’m so jealous... should I transfer?”

“Shut up and look at the picture Kangchul sent me.”

“People like this really study medicine? If he looks like this, what will you wear on the date?”

“I dunno, it’s next Friday. You should come over and help me get...”

You didn’t stay to hear anymore.

Hours later you lay wide awake in your bedroom. Sleep has been evading you. It’s not like there was only one medical student at Yonsei. There were hundreds of medical students. It didn’t have to be the one you were thinking of. The odds were... low. You paid no mind to the tiny voice that was telling you that “the odds are never zero, though.”

You reached for your phone, surely you could always text the person in question, it’s not like you think he would hide it from you but in the same breath, it’s not like he has any reason to tell you if he were going on a date. Why would he? Your fingers hovered over his chat until the screen finally timed out. This seemed to wake you from your daze, the phone was tossed to the side. Why were you thinking of him anyway? If it were him, if he was going on a date, it definitely wouldn’t affect you. It shouldn’t, you won’t let it.

It was 8:44 am the following day when you texted Hyewon that she could arrange the blind date.

A week and a half later you found yourself standing outside of a restaurant in Hongdae. Your date was to meet you there so you could have a meal then head over to the drone show your friend mentioned. You’ve been waiting for... a while. Yunseo was running late and to make matters worse, when you pulled out your cell phone you found it was dead. It was cold, and you were cold, and maybe you were just stood up for this date. You wanted to cry, you thought it probably wouldn’t be that bad if you just broke down on the streets. Probably no one would notice if you did anyway.

Slowly, white flurries started falling from the sky. Couples started walking even closer together, some laughing at whatever they found funny. They all looked really cute. You really hated the cold, maybe you should have just stayed home. “You know,” came a familiar, deep voice breaking through the frigid atmosphere. “In my experience, standing in the cold like this is a sure fire way to catch a cold.”

You don’t need to turn around to know who that deep voice belongs to. You couldn't help the scoff that escaped you. Of course he would appear at a time like this. Why was he there and why did he have to show up just now when you were on the verge of a mental breakdown, probably. Your thoughts couldn't even spiral too far because now you were genuinely fighting back the tears that really, really wanted more than anything to be free. “Shut up, Yoongi. I don’t—” You couldn't help the way your voice wavered, or the sniffle, all things considered. “I can’t deal with this right now.” You didn’t hear a response from him, so you assumed that he had left. You didn’t expect him to be in front of you, slightly bending his head to meet your eyes with his brows furrowed. You hated when he looked at you like this. Like he could see right through you, like he knows things even you don't. You hate it, so you look away from his curious gaze. You didn't want him to find anything in yours.

It felt like hours before he gave up on his one sided staring competition. He released a sigh while undoing his scarf that was neatly wrapped around his neck. You shook your head, wanted to tell him it wasn't necessary, you didn't need his scarf- that you were fine. The words never even got to leave your mouth before he started putting his scarf on you anyway. “Don’t even right now ___, you’re cold.” It wasn't a question. He said it like he knew, he said it while he took his time to wrap his scarf around your neck, making sure to cover your nose. You think you’ve seen this film before.

《Some years ago》

You have been walking for quite some time now. Quiet footsteps crush dead leaves and twigs a small distance behind you. You’re not afraid, mildly annoyed maybe. But you’ve no need to be afraid because you already know who’s behind you. He’s been trailing after you in silence since you stormed off the campsite earlier in a desperate attempt to cool off. It was too much. The woodsmoke, the cheeriness, the ever persistent Song Eunji and her effortlessly beautiful messy bun hanging off the side of *your* neighbour, on your family camping trip. It was one thing to have to endure her incessant hovering while at school, but you’d think that at least your weekend far out of town would have been peaceful. Turns out that the universe had other plans for you. Not only did you have to endure Min Yoongi, but you also had to stomach having the president of his fanclub- whose family just also happened to plan a camping trip at this spot- here too. How fantastic.

You hold your thin jacket tighter against your body as you make your way deeper into the forest. Every step you took only seemed to strengthen the already growing irritation inside you. You longed for the warmth of your bed, the comfort of your home. Surely there would be nothing there to upset you this much. “Yoongi, either catch up or leave. You’re smart enough, I’m sure that you’re at least a little aware how strange it is to stalk after a woman at night.”

“Yn, you’re smart enough, I’m sure you’re aware that this is hardly considered stalking.” Still, his footsteps carried that steady pace and you could almost hear the smugness in his voice as he continued. “I’m simply taking a walk, I’d be more than happy to catch up if you’d let me.” You could almost imagine how his face looks right now, a raised eyebrow, his (annoying) little smirk, maybe his head was even tilted to the side. You hoped he could see your eyes rolling from behind you. All of that didn’t matter though, cause either way the chill breeze took the challenge in his tone and brought it straight to your ear.

“Yeah, well you could walk somewhere else.” He certainly had no issue being other places before, you thought. You didn’t see why he was being so difficult. Although, you’ve known Min Yoongi for what feels like your entire life. If he did have a middle name, perhaps it would be something along the lines of annoying, stubborn-

“It’s fine.”

Wind came dancing through the trees and brought not just a disturbance to your quiet surroundings, but also a drop in the already cold temperature you’ve been trying to ignore since you left the warmth of the campfire. Involuntarily, your body shivered. Though it was only trying to warm itself up, you suppose.

“Here, put this on.” He was shrugging off his own jacket. You hadn’t realised you’d stopped. Hadn’t realised that Yoongi found his way beside you. Maybe your middle name is stubborn too, because you were already shaking your head and pushing his hand and his jacket away, wanted to tell him he could keep his jacket, that you would warm up just fine on your own soon enough. It was his turn to roll his eyes. “Would you stop pretending like you’re not literally freezing cold right now,” He just puts the jacket over you anyway. “Just take it.” With no other choice (you were freaking freezing), you begrudgingly put your arms through the sleeve. You watched as he proceeded to fasten the buttons with what you’ll assume resembles care on his face- no sign of displeasure anywhere.

“You do this after school too, why?” Memories all bleed into each other from all the times he’s placed a jacket round your shoulders, or a scarf round your neck. The few times he’d given you gloves to wear. You know he knows what you’re referring to.

“Because,” He’s fixing the jacket collar around your neck. “Your mom would kill me if I let you catch a cold.”

He couldn’t be serious. To think that was the reason... “You don’t need to do it anymore.”

He hummed in response. “Yeah? Stop leaving your jacket and I won't have to give you mine all the time, deal?” His left hand ruffled your hair all while you glared at him. Oftentimes, despite your extensive vocabulary, you find it hard to find words to describe Yoongi and just settle for thinking that he’s so him. Right now, he was being very much him, even more so than usual.

A sudden high pitch screech pulls you out of your brooding and launches you into Yoongi’s arms, a scream escapes you. Surprised, his arms wrap around you while he looks around. “What was that?!” You were whispering, screaming, a unique mix of both things.

“I don’t know.” Your companion sounded as calm as ever, you weren't sure if that was a good or bad thing. But you couldn't focus on that right now.

“Will it kill us?”

“I don’t know.” You felt him shrug. Your annoyance from earlier resurges, but with a new friend along with it, fear.

“Well Yoongi, what do you know exactly, hmm?”

“I know the way back to the campsite.” You looked up at him, seemingly just realising you were quite cozily nestled in his arms. You jumped back, almost tripping on a rock, or tree root, you couldn’t tell as it was dark. But what you could see was the gentle look that remained on his face as he steadied you, you weren't sure how it made you feel. All you did know was that it was too much.

“Well, um…” You decided to turn your head away, clear your throat. Yes, that was a good idea. “Lead the way, I guess.” Yoongi chuckled, and soon you felt a warmth enveloping your hand. Similar to the warmth simultaneously growing in your own chest. This was the first time he’d ever held your hand. You stood shocked, frozen, unable to move. Unable to ask him why.

“Come on, so you don’t fall again. This just like the day I just moved int-”

“Oh my gosh, shut up about that will you!” That seemed to do the trick. Just when you think he’d give that story a rest, he’d find a way to remind you again. How infuriating. Still, you both couldn’t help the laughs escaping your lips as you head back hand in hand to your loved ones who were probably waiting for you at the campsites. Maybe you shouldn't have stormed off, but as the moon started peaking through the clouds lighting up your rugged path, you were glad he came to find you.

《Present day》

When he gently took your hand in his, your mind found itself back to the present where you stood in snowy streets as opposed to the serene forest. Was he really always like this? “C'mon.” He'd turned towards you, his head motioning in a general direction. Your mind wanting to stay lost in thought for a bit more, feet remained planted on the ground for a minute, maybe longer. Yet Min Yoongi remained a perfect picture of patience. Maybe it was his lack of frustration, or the fact that you didn't not trust him. But you let him lead you down the Hongdae streets, you follow with your hand in his.

AN: Thanks for reading this far! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Now, I had every intention for this to be a tiny lil one-shot but the story clearly had other ideas in mind. I'm working on part 2 as we speak so hopefully I can share it with you all soon.

That being said, Special thanksies to my mooties @livingformintyoongi and @moochii-daisies for their encouragement and for accommodating my yapping 🥹🩷 and not to mention @oddinary4bts when I felt stuck and was at the brink of putting this fic to the infinite sides.

This, as well other fics that I'll post in the future will be cross-posted to Ao3 because of popular demand (1 person suggested), but yes it was by popular demand 🤭

Taglist

@livingformintyoongi @moochii-daisies @abcdefghilovejk2121 @ktownshizzle @peoniesnro

[achilles-rage]

Bad Thing Turned Even Better

part one

summary: months after your encounter with buck at the bar, you confront him at his apartment about what he the hell that night was.

word count: 2.1k

a/n: y'all this is not the trope you think it is, i promise!! please don't click off when you read the first sentence of dialogue!! also, how the hell did a drabble prompt request turn into two parts?? i guess i'm just that feral over buck and hate fucking?? anyway, enjoy<3

warnings: mentions of previous smut (but no actual smut), talk about reader hating shitty men<3, no use of y/n, fem!reader, plus size!reader, race inclusive!reader

It’s been a few months since you’ve last seen Buck at the bar, and you’ve been avoiding him ever since. 

You can’t exactly say that you regret it; he knew exactly what he was doing, but the more you thought about it, the more it pissed you off even more. Did he have to be so cocky, and smug, and overall infuriating? You can’t believe that you actually gave in to him, and then gave him the satisfaction of not seeing him for months, like some stupid one night stand. It’s probably exactly what he wanted to happen; to use you and throw you away like nothing.

Without thinking any further, you get dressed and make your way to Buck’s apartment with a frown etched onto your face. 

You pull into the parking lot haphazardly, barely putting the car in park before stomping up to his door, knuckles rapping harshly on the wood and your eyes narrowed. He’s in the middle of cooking dinner, so he drops his knife and makes his way to the front door, smirking when he looks through the peephole and sees you.

“I’m pregnant.” is all you say when he opens the door, pushing your way past him and into the apartment before he can react.

The smirk drops from his face as soon as the words register in his mind, and he turns on his heel as he closes the door, his brows furrowed in concern. 

“What?” Buck gets out, eyes travelling down your body, taking a moment to focus on your plush middle. He hates that possessiveness flares inside him at the thought; of you being claimed completely by him, as much as it scares the hell out of him.

“Okay, I’m not. But, did you even think about that possibility when you didn’t pull out?” you question, your arms crossed over your chest as you glare at Buck. You can see the sigh of relief he takes, but then almost immediately, the smirk is back on his face as he takes a step closer to you, eyeing you with a lustful gleam in his eyes.

“You didn’t think about it either, though, did you, sweetheart?” he questions, mirroring your stance and crossing his own arms, making his biceps flex against the tight sleeves of his t-shirt.

You clench your jaw at his accusation, because he’s right. When he was fucking you, all you could think about was him filling you up; you didn’t even have half of a mind to think about the possible implications of your actions.

“This isn’t about me. This is about you being completely reckless. You’re lucky I’m on the pill.” you finally say after a second too long, and he catches on to this. He tilts his head to the side, then takes another step closer to you, effectively closing the distance between the two of you and forcing you to tilt your head up to keep your narrowed eyes locked with his.

“Honestly, I think I would’ve done the exact same thing even if I knew you weren’t. And you wouldn’t have complained, either, would you?” he questions, running his tongue over the inside of his cheek as his eyes dart down to the way your arms push your tits up.

For a moment, you can’t even speak; you’re so angry and, you hate to admit, turned on, that all you can do is clench your jaw and stare up at him. 

Finally, you scoff, shaking your head once before standing up straighter, trying to get into his face.

“God, do you always have to be like this? The only person you think about is yourself!” He chuckles, raising his brows at your outburst, and he leans in even closer as his eyes dart from your lips to your eyes, letting you feel his breath against your skin.

He loves your feisty side. It’s never been something he’s necessarily gravitated towards, but you just look so good when you’re pissed off at him. He’s not exactly sure why you hate him so much, but he does know that he loves to see that look in your eyes. Almost as much as he loves how easy it is to fuck the attitude out of you.

“Actually, I was thinking about you. Being completely mine.” he says in a low, smooth voice, tilting his head further to the side as his eyes narrow slightly.

Your throat goes dry at his words, but you keep your gaze stoic, eyes searching his for a moment as you try not to let the butterflies deep in your belly rise to the surface. You’d love for him to actually mean it, but why would he, you think? You’ve seen the type of women guys like him go for; thin, model-like figure, and absolutely gorgeous. You know you’re pretty, but you know not to get your hopes up with men like him.

“What are you trying to do here?” you finally say, now less angry, and more exhausted. You’ve spent so long hating Buck, and you’re getting sort of sick of having your guard up when he’s around, which is quite frequently with him being in your friend group.

“I think it’s obvious.” he says, the corners of his mouth turning down as he shrugs. You scoff, rolling your eyes. Why does he insist on continuing to toy with you?

“What are you really trying to do? Because we both know it isn’t that.” you ask again, letting your arms fall to your sides. 

“Why are you so sure it’s not?” he questions as his smirk slowly falls. He can see that you’re at your wits end, so he uncrosses his arms as well, letting a sincere look make its way onto his face as he puts his hands on his hips.

“Because I know you! I know guys like you!” you practically yell, throwing your arms up in the air as if it’s obvious. You let out a sigh once you see his brows furrow in confusion, turning and taking a step back as you collect your thoughts for a second without him so close.

“You’re smug, and you’re arrogant, and you’re only nice to people that you think are attractive enough to deserve your attention, which by the way, isn’t all that special of a thing.” you list off, counting each thing on your fingers as you move to stand in front of him again. 

He still looks confused, and you’re not sure if you’re more angry or frustrated at this point. Now that you say it out loud, you feel a little silly, but it’s still what you believe; it’s what you’ve been proven many times in your life.

“Have I done anything to prove to you that I’m like that?” he questions, ducking his head down to better match your height. He brings one of his hands up to your arm in a way to comfort you, because he’s unsure of what else to do. Now that he knows why you don’t like him, he’s confused, and a little upset you think so little of him.

“You didn’t have to. I’ve known enough guys like you.” you say, shrugging away from his grip and taking a step back. You force yourself to look away from him; if you don’t, you’re sure you’ll just end up doing something stupid. Now that he’s not being so confident and cocky, all you want to do is kiss him again.

“Well, maybe that’s the problem. I’ve only ever been nice to you, and you’re acting like this because different guys have treated you like shit.” he tries to reason, wanting more than anything to close the distance between you again. He feels that surge of possessiveness fill his belly again at the thought of men in your past treating you badly enough to turn you into this. It’s cute, and he loves it, but he also feels his blood boiling as he thinks about you having to act like this in order to protect yourself from men.

“Come on, you’re too hot to not be like that. You’re just better at hiding it.” you say, mostly talking to yourself as you look up at him.

“So, you think I’m hot?” he says, the usual smirk making its way back onto his face. He’s not sure how else to show you that he wants you; he’s flirted with you for months. He fucked you for God’s sake, and you still think he’s not being serious.

“Do you always have to be like this? You were finally being a normal person.” you say, letting out an incredulous laugh, fighting back a smile as you look away.

He grabs your chin before your face is hidden from him, though, and he brings your face back up to his, letting his eyes study your face for a moment.

“You’re beautiful.” he murmurs as his eyes dart back up to yours. You feel heat rising to your cheeks at the sincerity behind his words, and the smile finally makes its way onto your face.

He can’t help but smile when you do, loving the sight. He’s sure now that he’d rather see you like this than like you were before.

“Stop.” you whisper, voice cracking and barely audible as butterflies swarm your tummy. He just chuckles quietly, grabbing your hip with his other hand and pulling you into him.

“No.” he whispers back before leaning down, his lips meeting yours in a dizzying kiss. He can feel your plush body against his front, and he hums softly, tilting your head further up into the kiss before his hand moves from your chin to the side of your neck and holds you in place.

He’s tempted to pick you up and bring you upstairs to his bed, but he knows he should take things slower than he did at the bar, as amazing as that night was. He keeps his movements slow, letting his tongue slip into your mouth when you part your lips, and runs his thumb over the sensitive skin on your neck as he holds you flush against him. 

After a minute or two, you try to deepen the kiss, raising onto your toes and grabbing the front of his shirt as your lips speed up, but he pulls back an inch, mumbling “slower” against your lips.

You try to do as he says, but your knees feel weak. Your head is spinning with how he’s kissing you, and all you want is more of him. He has to remind you a few times to slow down before you finally pull back breathlessly, your pupils blown and lips swollen as you look up at him with a pleading look in your eyes.

“Do you believe me now?” he asks softly, keeping you pressed tight against him as his hand moves up your side comfortingly.

You blink slowly, barely even remembering your own name as you stare into his eyes. You can’t even remember what you were talking about before he kissed you, so all you say is a gentle “what?”

“Do you believe that I want you now?” he clarifies, unable to resist the urge to lean down and give you a chaste kiss as your brows remain knit together in confusion.

“That depends.” you say, a small smile making its way onto your face as you shrug.

“On what?” he asks with a smile, his own brows furrowing. He thought the kiss finally got his feelings for you into your head, but now it doesn’t seem so.

“You have enough for two?” you tease, looking over to the kitchen where his half-cooked meal is sitting. He chuckles with a shake of his head. You’re going to be the death of him.

“Absolutely.” he purrs, pulling you impossibly closer, and you laugh softly, nodding.

“Good.” you say, then push him away and make your way over to the kitchen, looking over the ingredients spread across the counter. 

He stays in his spot for a moment, watching the way your hips sway, and he smiles to himself at how content you finally seem in his presence. You’re quick to make yourself at home in his apartment, and it makes his chest fill with pride that he’s finally broken through your walls.

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[aventurineswife]

I have a challenge for you :3

Write the most angsty thing possible for your current fav character!

I'm talking about hurt and NO COMFORT AT ALL. Could be unrequited feelings, MCD, whatever makes you cry the most!

Have fun :)

A Lost Bet

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Unrequited Love, Emotional Manipulation, Power Dynamics, Toxic Relationships, Betrayal, Emotional Hurt, Ambiguous Ending, Aventurine-centric.

Warnings: Emotional abuse, Themes of manipulation, Heartbreak, Unreciprocated feelings, Self-worth issues, Subtle references to past trauma, Heavy focus on emotional pain.

A/N: I probably could've come up with something else, but I remembered that I make you guys suffer nonetheless. My first-ever Aventurine fic was already traumatizing enough that someone actually wanted a second part (not angst ver of it ahaha) of it 🧍‍♀️. Welp, enjoy! 🫶💖

The air was thick with tension, the scent of luxury mingling with the bitter taste of regret. The grand hall of the IPC's high-rise echoed with the hushed whispers of the elite, but to you, the room might as well have been empty. The only thing that mattered was the cold weight of your heart, the hollow pit that seemed to grow larger with each passing moment.

Aventurine stood at the center, a commanding figure draped in his trademark elegance, his eyes flicking between his rivals with calculated precision. His smile, that all-too-perfect mask, never wavered. But you saw it—his hand, hidden behind his back, the subtle tremor that betrayed the façade.

"Another gamble," you thought bitterly. The same game, over and over again.

You watched him, and the truth settled in like a stone in your chest. He wasn’t playing with them. He was playing with you.

You had always admired his brilliance, his charm, his strategic genius. At first, it had been exciting—this dazzling, dangerous man who made life feel like a thrilling chessboard, where every move was calculated and every word was laced with meaning. But now... now, you couldn’t ignore the gnawing ache of your own helplessness. The way he looked at you, like you were one of his many pieces on the board—expendable, replaceable.

You thought you were special. You wanted to believe it, with all your heart. But that was before you understood his game, before you saw the way he treated his allies, his enemies, and you.

"Do you want to know how I can predict every move, every outcome, even before it happens?" Aventurine’s voice cut through the haze of your thoughts, and you were momentarily brought back to reality. He had approached you, his smile like a blade, his words deliberate, venomously sweet.

You looked up at him, trying to mask the pain with a smile that never quite reached your eyes. "Tell me," you replied, your voice distant, hollow.

He leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear. "It’s simple. I don’t need to predict them. I make them happen. I control the game, every time."

Your breath hitched, and something inside you snapped. He controls everything. The thoughts, the words, the actions—all of it was part of a bigger plan. A plan where you were nothing but a mere spectator. Maybe a pawn, at best.

He stepped back, his gaze scanning the room, as if he had already moved on. "I'll let you in on a little secret," he continued, his voice smooth like silk. "The greatest risk is never losing. It’s letting someone else think they matter."

And then it hit you. That was the cruelest thing about him—he never truly let anyone matter. Not you. Not anyone.

You had never mattered to him, had you? Not in the way you had hoped. Not in the way you had wanted.

"You're not the first to think that," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. It took everything in you not to break. "But I suppose that’s part of your charm, isn't it?"

Aventurine’s smile faltered for just a fraction of a second. He never let his emotions show for long, but you saw it—something fleeting. Something that looked like... regret? No. It couldn’t be. Not from him. You’d never meant that much.

His hand slid away from his back, and for the briefest moment, you saw the glittering ring on his finger, the one that symbolized his control, his power. That was all he cared about, wasn’t it? Power. The gamble. The game. Not you. Never you.

You clenched your fists, the burning realization cutting deep. You had played his game long enough, believed in a love that was never there. And now? Now the cost was your soul.

Aventurine’s voice snapped you from your thoughts. "It’s a shame," he said, his tone shifting, colder now. "I really did think you might be the one to understand. But it seems you’re just like the rest."

The words stung, but you didn’t let him see it. Instead, you nodded, your heart already breaking into pieces. "Goodbye, Aventurine."

And just like that, the final gambit had been played. The stakes had been too high, and you were the one who had lost. He had already moved on.

As you turned away, you heard him speak one last time, his voice detached, as if addressing a passing thought.

“Don’t gamble with things you can’t afford to lose.”

Your steps echoed through the empty hallway, each one heavier than the last. You had been a fool, thinking he could ever love you. In his world, love was just another risk.

And in the end, you were nothing more than a lost bet.

[candyskiez]

Hhnnghf when a character has a complicated relationship with the concept of agency. When a character can't tell which actions are their own, or doesn't want to know, when characters have been shoved into so many of their choices yet were never technically *forced.* When characters are terrified that they have no one to blame for their life but themselves. When characters are terrified it's always been them and they've always been the one ruining their life. They've always been the one hurting everyone. It wasn't some Thing inside them, it wasn't some outside force pushing them. It was all them. They made their choices. Over and over again. And they don't know how to stop. Maybe they don't want to. Maybe they want someone to force them to get better but they can't.

When a character feels trapped in a perception of themself playing out a character and they can't stop. They can't get out. They're trapped and keep playing out these lines over and over even as they're screaming at themself to stop talking, they don't mean that, why are they saying that, stop it stop it stop it. When they feel like they're on a train about to go off the tracks and they can't do anything. Just watching it happen. When they act out in a desperate attempt for agency and try to burn the whole train down around them.

When a character is so sure of their own helplessness it causes them to refuse to make choices. When they're so sure their choices don't matter they stop thinking about them and cause massive amounts of damage. When they expect everyone else to make all the decisions, not realizing they are massively effecting everything and still making a choice by doing exactly that. When they're so sure of their own pointlessness it causes so much damage because they cannot wrap their head around the idea it has consequences. That they matter, in some way.

When a character hasn't had agency in so long they wouldn't know what to do with it. When they're just a puppet watching everyone else dance, wondering if they're actually doing anything of their own free will. When they don't know what they want, or who they are, or if they ever made any of their own choices. When they try to believe it doesn't matter because nothing they chose mattered. Because they don't have a choice now. When they still wish they did.

Anyways I'm really normal how about you