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atlafan · 2 years ago

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Peaches and Cream - One Shot

a/n: okay yall went crazy for this blurb so I wrote a full one shot for it. lmk if you want to see more from these two! Please reblog, put notes in the tags, send me asks. All feedback is important. It keep me writing! not proofread

warnings: smut, enemies to lovers

words: 8.6K

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There he was, looking at her with the smuggest look she’s ever seen. He’s tucking his shirt back into his pants, fastening the button and zipper, and looking up at her with rosy cheeks and closed-mouth grin. When all she does is look at him stoically, he chuckles softly, shakes his head, and finishes getting dressed. He leans in to leave a peck to her forehead before departing.

“Harry.” She calls to him, making him turn to look at her. “This was a one-time thing.”

“Whatever you say, Peach.”

And then he’s gone. She frowns at the use of her nickname. The one bestowed upon her by her mother. It was “Peaches” actually, but over the years people have just come to call her “Peach”. It wasn’t something she thought would carry over into her adult life, but she did. Then in bled into her professional life. She doesn’t mind when people call her that…except for him. Whenever Harry calls her Peach or Peaches, he says it in the most condescending tone. Sometimes when he’s feeling especially obnoxious, he likes to call her “Peaches and Cream”. He turned her sweet nickname into something she almost hates hearing now. But everyone knows her as Peach, and she doesn’t want to rock the boat by making them call her, her actual name. (Which she can’t stand. And her middle name is no good either.)

She hates Harry. He’s been a menace to her for years. So how she allowed him to take her home and fuck her into her mattress…she can’t really recall. As she shuffles into her bathroom and washes her face, she thinks about how the night’s events transpired. They weren’t intoxicated. They weren’t under the influence of any kind. They were simply working late, which was nothing out of the ordinary for either of them.

She and Harry are both account managers at a prestigious PR firm – Harris Public Relations & Media Consultation. Harry is a nepotism baby though. His father worked at Harris for years, was the CFO, that whole thing. So it was easy for Harry to get an internship during undergrad in the marketing department. And it was easy for Harry to get hired on as a copy editor while going for his MBA. And it was easy for Harry to move up the ranks until he was one of the lead account managers.

Peach, on the other hand, well…she worked a little harder. She got a full ride to Columbia thanks to hours upon hours of writing letters and essays for scholarships. She thought she might like to go into journalism, but she only ended up minoring in it. What stole her heart was media relations and literacy. She just found it fascinating! The theory behind what media are, and how to properly learn how to use them interested her more than anything. She took a course on the art of media training, and that was it for her. She knew she wanted to do something in the world of public relations. She also looked up to Samantha from Sex and the City, and how she was able to basically build an empire all on her own. That was Peach’s dream, to someday have her own PR firm.

But she knew it would take time to be able to do that. She had to learn the business and make a name for herself. She found an internship during undergrad, but she had to go through a more rigorous interview process than Harry had. She also got her start in copy editing, but for a small marketing company. Working at a place like Harris would be a huge stepping stone for her career. So when a job opened up on the media relations team a few years back, she applied. And thanks to her networking skills, she had some incredible people to put down as references. It took over a month, but she was hired. She was doing copy editing, working with clients, doing some media training to up and coming artists. All things that were good experience for her to get under belt.

Being an account manager though…that’s where the big buck and the notoriety are. This where are a person can put their money where their mouth is. The CEO, now Harris’ son Jeremy, is the one who assigns the account managers to specific clients. Each manager has a team, that team puts together a pitch, and they all pitch it to the client. The client then picks which pitch they like best, and that manager and their teams gets to work with the client going forward. Everyone gets paid a standard salary, but account managers are given a commission when their pitch is selected. Not to mention the pure bragging rights.

So, she knew if she ever wanted her own PR firm, then she’d start needing experience managing accounts. She requested a one-on-one meeting with Jeremy after working for the company for two years. She did good work. She brought him facts and figures. He was impressed. When he asked what she wanted when she was done selling herself to him, she explained her work goals and aspirations. She didn’t say she wanted to have her own firm, no, she told him she wanted to be an account manager here at Harris and she wanted to be the one to continue getting them in the 21st century. She wanted to bring the company more money and more clients. This is exactly what Jeremy wanted to hear. But since she’s a woman, she had to be a bit more persuasive. She knows how Jeremy is. He looks, but never touches. He’s a married man, after all. So, she gave him various things to look at that day. She wore her tightest pencil skirt that fell about halfway around her thighs, sheer, black tights underneath, a pair of pumps that would help her legs look a little longer, and a blouse that showed off her cleavage beautifully.

It was in the bag. Jeremy’s eyes drifted and wandered as she spoke. She pretended not to care that she was being openly objectified by the CEO of the company. And by the end of the meeting, he told her that one of the other account managers would be retiring at the end of that month, but no one knew yet. So, the open position would go right to her if she wanted it. She accepted, and shook his hand, lingering just a tad to make him feel wanted. Giving a man an ego boost is always the icing on the cake. She got exactly what she wanted.

This tactic may not have been obvious to the other account managers, but it was obvious to Harry. He has no problem working with women. He prefers to work in a diverse space, so that’s not the problem. The problem is he knew exactly how she played it. She used her looks and body to weasel her way into an open position that she didn’t have a formal interview for. Harry was hoping there would be a legitimate search done for a new account manager so one of his friends at another frim could apply. But no…Peach got it.

She was given the office right next to Harrys. Glass all around for easy view of the city and the people working at the desks outside of the offices. There were blinds that could be pulled for privacy, of course. She had her own assistant that would help manager her calendar and meetings. And now she’d be able to put her own teams together for pitches. She knew who she liked in the graphics department, and she knew who she liked in the print shop, and she knew who she liked for writing copy. It was all falling into place.

Harry was convinced that she slept with Jeremy to get the position. To him, it seemed like she had no experience for pitching to clients and making the important things happen. To him, she had more experience in damage control, quality assurance, those types of things.

At her first account managers meeting, Jeremy was there to deliver some new updates. He was a hands on CEO, just as his father was. He didn’t just want to be a figure head for the company. He still took on the occasional client and everything.

“And my last announcement is to welcome our newest account manager, Peach.” He smiled in her direction, and everyone looked at her. She smiled at everyone sheepishly, then they turned their attention back to Jeremy.

After the meeting, Harry saw her refilling her water bottle at the water bottle station near the bathrooms. He was going to refill his bottle as well.

“Congrats on movin’ on up.” He said her. At first she thought he was being sincere. Could the nepotism baby actually be a kind person with a soul?

“Thank you, Harry.”

“Please, just call me H, everyone else does.”

“Alright.” She smiled and stepped aside to let him refill his water.

“So, what kind of a name is Peach? Did your parents have an affinity for the fruit?” He asked her nonchalantly.

“No, it’s just a nickname my mom gave me when I was a kid. She used to call me Peaches, and then that shortened to Peach as I got older. It sort of stuck, and I prefer to use it. It’s shorter than my actual name. Rolls off the tongue easier.”

“Ah.” Harry nodded, screwing the cap back onto his bottle. “I bet Jeremy thought you were just the sweetest thing, then?” He said sweetest thing with a slight country twang. Was he mocking her? Her mother may have been from the south, but she was no bumpkin.

“I don’t know about that, but I know he liked what he saw when I showed him my portfolio.”

“Mm.” He nodded again. “Well, bless your heart, Peaches. Welcome to the team.”

He turned and walked away from her, leaving the foulest taste in her mouth. So what if she was born in Georgia. She wasn’t raised there. Her parents got divorced, and her mother moved them up north to Boston where one of her cousins lived. Her mother met a man that worked in IT, and she got a new step-dad in a matter of a couple of years. She doesn’t even have an accent. Her mother barely has one anymore. What the fuck was Harry’s problem?

The two didn’t see much of each other except for the weekly account managers meeting. They were often working on different projects, and they never used the same people for their teams. Jeremy assigned specific managers to specific pitches because he knew where certain people had expertise. Different clients needed different things. So, really, Peach didn’t have to work with Harry all that much. She hated that her office was next to his, but it’s not like he was a distraction.

He knew how to push her buttons, though. He’d throw in various version of her nickname during meetings to make her look stupid and juvenile. Saying things like, “We haven’t heard from Peaches on this”, or, “Settle down Peach and Cream”, or literally anything that would make her the butt of a joke. She loathed him. Harry knew it was childish to pick on her, but he was pissed. If she could schmooze her way into this position, who’s to say she won’t do that again for an even higher position? No way will she ever be the boss of him. Harry works hard, and he’s good at what he does. He’s one of the top account managers at the firm. If anyone’s going to get a bump up, it should be him.

It went on like this for a year. They made each other crazy. Then came the day when Harry, Chris, John, and Peach were all called into a meeting with Jeremy and his executive assistant. This is usually how he assigned really important pitches to a select number of account managers. What both Harry and Peach couldn’t figure out is why they were being called into the same meeting.

“You all are familiar with the popular hotel chain called RJR, right?” Everyone nods and hums in agreement. “They’re looking to rebrand. They’ve had the same logo, slogan, and branding for over thirty years, and they want to change things up. They want to get more young people using their website to book rooms and events. The majority of their clientele are older people, and they love them, but they want to expand and market to more.” Everyone takes notes as Jeremy explains. “You all have experience when it comes to helping a company work through rebranding. This is going to be an insanely involved project, so I wanted my top managers on this.”

Harry thought he was going to explode. Since when was Peach a top account manager? She’s only been at this for a year! Harry’s been managing accounts for over five! He knows he gets paid more, especially since his pitches are usually the ones chosen by the client, but now he seems to have some real competition. Jeremy’s assistant emails everyone the briefing on what the hotel is looking to do. Now it’s on the account managers to do some market research before pulling their teams together. They have a week and a half before the VP of Marketing from RJR comes to hear the pitches.

She stays late every night to do take notes and put her information together. They all still have other work during the day to get done. It’s not unusual for people to stay late. She wants to be able to articulate what different populations are looking for in terms of hotel service. What’s important to these different age groups? 24-hour front desk service? A proper mini-fridge? Storage space? Free breakfast? It’s a lot to consider. If the nightly rate is high, what are the customers getting for that price?

“Well, look he’s still here.” Harry’s graining, agitating voice rings loud and clear to her as he steps into her office. “It’s Miss Peach Pie.”

“What do you want, H? I’m busy.” She says flatly.

“Nothing.” He shrugs. “I was just finishing up my work for the night. I used one of the conference rooms that has a larger whiteboard so I could brainstorm a little.” He puts his hands in his pockets and smirks at her. “Don’t get too excited though, I erased everything, so you won’t be able to steal any of my ideas.”

“Your ideas are probably just as stupid as you are, so I’m all set.”

“Oof.” He puts his hands over his heart to fake that she’s wounded him. “That was a good one. Calling me stupid is so high level.”

“I apologize, I’m a bit tired from the day. I promise to insult you properly tomorrow morning after a good night’s sleep.”

“You know you’re not going to be selected for this, right? You’re going up against me, John, and Chris. You don’t stand a chance.”

“Sounds like someone’s projecting.” She sing-songs. “You’re that scared of me stealing your thunder?”

“All I’m saying is, you’re running with the big dogs now. Some of us aren’t exactly friendly.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice about that.”

“Just don’t be surprised when one of us bites you on the ass.”

“Hm.” She grins and crosses her arms over her chest, leaning back in her chair. “And what would a bitchless guy like yourself know about biting asses?” Harry’s mouth falls open. “I mean, it’s one thing for a woman to work late. I don’t have kids to get home to, and I pay my neighbor’s kid to feed my dog and take him out. But you, a man of such stature and status, you’d think you’d have some hole to rush home to.” She pouts mockingly at him. “What’s wrong? Your pocket pussy just not doing it for you anymore?”

Harry narrows his eyes at her. “My private life stays separate from work. Pardon me for not talking about what or who I get into on the weekends like some of our other colleagues.”

“It’s okay to admit you’re a virgin, H. Everyone does everything in their own time. I’m sure it’ll happen for you someday.” She smiles ever so sweetly at him. “Life isn’t a race.”

“Go to hell.” He huffs, and leaves her office to go to his, gathering his things and leaving her in their wing all alone.

He hates her. He loathes her. He has to beat her at this, he can’t let her win.

After a week and a half of snide comments, and hours upon hours of extra work, the VP of Marketing from RJR is here in the nicest conference room to hear the four different pitches. Jeremy is sitting with her. Her name is Adelaide Benjamin. She looks to be in her late forties, but her eyes are kind. It’s not often the managers get to pitch to a woman. It makes John and Chris a little nervous for their presentations. They’re both guys’ guys. Harry can charm anyone, so he’s not worried one bit. And Peach, well, she’s not stupid enough to relax just because she’s pitching to a woman. Often times in business, women aren’t so quick to support other women.

The four of them get to meet with Adelaide, sharing a delicious breakfast catered by the firm’s dining department. She goes over her plans and what the company over all is looking to do. They all are given time to freshen up and use the bathroom before the presentations start. John goes first, then Harry, then Peach, and then Chris. The four of them are brought back in after Adelaide and Jeremy chat for a while.

“Thank you all so much for your marvelous presentations. I’m going to take back the materials you’ve given me to my team, and talk things over with them. I should have an answer on who I’d like to take this on in a few days.”

Oh, she’s thorough. Today is Thursday, which means they won’t have an answer until Monday. Which means the four of them are going to be on edge until then. It makes it difficult to concentrate on their other projects. Peach’s stomach isn’t feeling too great. She’s not sure if she ate too much or too little earlier. She’s not sure if it’s the nerves. She’s not sure if maybe her skirt is just a little too tight around her stomach as she sits. It’s really a better outfit for standing.

She manages to get through the day unscathed, but around 5:15, she’s rushing to the bathroom. She’s never sure which end is worse for things to come out of, but at work, she’d prefer to throw up. Luckily, that’s all it is. She heaved hard until her stomach was empty, and it was just bile coming out. She stands up slowly, and goes to rinse her mouth out at the sink. She keeps a spare toothbrush in her office, and makeup wipes. She sighs with relief at the thought because looking at herself in the mirror right now…

Her forehead is clammy, her body feels sweaty, and she looks like a raccoon because now her eye makeup has smeared and clumped under her eyes. She’s just happy she had the good sense to put her hair up before coming to the bathroom to throw up. Feeling exhausted, she pushes the bathroom door open only to be met with Harry refilling his water bottle. He looks at her like he’s looking at a ghost. He almost looks concerned? That can’t be.

“Was…was that you in there?” He blinks, and she nods. “Christ, I don’t think I’ve heard someone yak that violently before. Do you always sound like that when you spew?”

“I don’t know, I don’t usually pay attention to the way I vomit while it’s happening.” She wipes under her eyes and sighs when she sees how much makeup comes off on her hands. “I need to go clean myself up.”

“Are you feeling alright?” He asks as he follows her back to her office. He watches as she pops a piece of gum in her mouth, and uses a wipe to clean her face. “Are you sick?”

“My stomach’s been bothering me all day. I think it was something I ate this morning.”

“Well, I feel fine and no one else seemed to get sick from the food.”

“Maybe it’s a stomach bug, then. I don’t know. I plan to take a sleeping aid and knock out when I get home.”

“Could be something else.” He smirks. “Maybe you’re pregnant. What a blessing that would be. You’d go on maternity leave, we’d hire someone on in your place on a temporary basis, they’d excel, and then you’d be fired a month after returning.” He looks off, smiling, as if he can really picture it. “What a world that would be.”

“Just because a woman throws up does not mean she’s pregnant.” She bites. Harry looks at her. He’s never seen her face look so plain and delicate. He’s seen her at the end of the day before. He knows what she looks like when she’s exhausted. This is just the most vulnerable he’s ever seen her. It’s like she’s taken all of her armor off. “I’m packing up so I can go home. Hopefully it was just a one and done.”

“Maybe you should stop by a pharmacy on your way. You know, grab some Nyquil, maybe some O.J., and a pregnancy test, just to be sure.”

“You know, you really shouldn’t be an ass about things like this.” She huffs as she stuffs her bag with her things. “What if I was trying to get pregnant, hm? What if I’ve miscarried? What if I couldn’t have children? Do you know how awful it would be to be questioned like this if I had all that going on? You don’t like being asked about your personal life, well, neither do I. So drop it.”

“You’re right, it was insensitive me to joke about that.” He says genuinely, and it helps her to calm down. “It was stupid for me to even bring it up. I mean, it’s not like you’re fucking anyone. You said it yourself, the only thing you’re going home to is your dog.”

Her bottom lip juts out in a pout. Harry’s about to roll his eyes because she’s famous for using that pout to her advantage, but when he notices her lip start to quiver and tears slipping down her cheeks, well, his entire demeanor changes.

“Shit, I took it too far.” He crosses the room over to her just as she’s grabbing a tissue to dab her eyes with.

“You always do, it’s nothing I can’t handle.” She says through her tears. “Don’t go all soft on me just because I’m tearing up.” She wipes under her eyes and reaches for her coat. “You have no idea what I’ve been through in the last six months because I check my shit at the door. Work is a good distraction. I used to have more to go home to, but I don’t anymore.” She brushes by him over to her door, and she motions for him to leave so she can lock it. “But at least I still have something there that’s happy to see me when I get in. What do you have, huh?” He furrows his eyebrows as he looks at her. “You have absolutely nothing outside of this place.” She zips up her jacket and locks her office door. “See you tomorrow, asswipe.”

She doesn’t see him tomorrow. She actually had to call out of work. Turns out she does have a stomach bug. She’s feeling much better by the time Monday comes around. She knows she was really harsh when she last spoke to Harry, but she doesn’t care. He’s been harsh with her time and time again. It’s about time someone gives it back to him.

Her assistant tells her she has a meeting with Jeremy at nine, so she prepares for that. She wonders if he’s letting her down easy for not getting the pitch. She figures Harry probably got it. She stops short at Jeremy’s office when she sees Harry chatting with Jeremy’s assistant.

“Oh, good, you’re both here. Come in.” Jeremy says, and she and Harry both go to sit on the other side of his desk. “I had a video call with Adelaide last night. After looking over all the materials with her team, she feels as though it would be best if the two of you worked on the account together.”

“What?” They say at the same time.

“She enjoyed both of your pitches immensely, and was having a hard time choosing. She said you both bring different and interesting ideas to the table, and she’d like to see them combined cohesively. You each will still get a full commission, so it’s not like you have to split this one.” He looks at Harry, then at her, smiling fondly as his eyes rake over her body. “Peach, I think it would be a good opportunity for you to work with Harry. As you know, he’s one of the top account managers at this firm, he has plenty of experience under his belt, especially a rebrand of this caliber.”

“Yes, sir, that makes sense.” She says, swallowing her pride a bit as she nods.

“And Harry, you could learn a thing or two from Peach. She’s very up to date on what Gen Z is up to online. Adelaide noted that she enjoyed Peach’s ideas for getting the company on Tik Tik. I know social media outside of Facebook and Instagram isn’t your favorite, but it’s a fad that seems to be everlasting.”

“Tik Tok…right.” Harry nods slowly.

“You have a month to get a concise concept together for her review. You’ll be sent some of their own market research that her team has done. It should help you figure out how to best target the audiences they’re looking draw in. Any questions?” They both shake their heads no. “Excellent. Hop to it.”

The two stand up and leave in complete shock. They don’t speak to each other for two days. Neither of them know what to say to the other. But Wednesday rolls around and it hits them that a month really isn’t a ton of time to put everything together, so they need to meet. They block out the whole afternoon to meet in one of the larger conference rooms so they can looks over the other’s materials and use the whiteboards to brainstorm.

“I still don’t understand the need for a Tik Tok account for a hotel chain. Who would want to watch videos about a hotel?” Harry asks her.

“The videos wouldn’t be about the hotel. People like it when brands jump onto weird trends that have absolutely nothing to do with their product. It’s funny and unexpected. It drive those viewers to their account page which is where a link to the hotel site would be.” She smiles smugly. “I didn’t think I’d have to explain something so simple to you, but that’s on me for assuming you have at least one brain cell in that giant head of yours.”

“Making fun of someone’s personal appearance is shallow, rude, and cheap.” He turns his nose up at her. “I didn’t look at the Tik Tok thing in that way. I don’t use the app myself, so I guess I’m not up on all the trends and whatnot.”

“It’s actually pretty fun. There are definitely people on there with brain rot, but you can just block the accounts you don’t want to see. Let me guess…you use reels?”

“No.” Harry says defensively. “But I have friends that send them to me from time to time.”

“Wait a second.” She shakes her head in confusion. “You have friends?”

“Not all of us prefer to only converse with four-legged animals, Peaches.” He sighs. “What did you think of the mock ups my team did for the logo?”

“I actually really liked them. You had Lee do these?”

“Yeah, he’s always my go to.”

“This one’s my favorite, it’s sleek, not too busy, but it still has some pizazz.” She taps her finger on one of the pieces of paper.

“Alright, something we actually agree on.” Harry sets the other logos aside on the other side of the table. “Now, I was thinking we could do some type of mailer for the crowd that doesn’t like digital marketing. A post card with a coupon code could go over very well. They can be directed to the website or call the hotel directly.”

“We can send it as an email as well.”

“Right.” Harry nods. “I was thinking long-time rewards members could get a voucher for one free night, or free breakfast during their stay. Adelaide said the company is fine with spending a little to make a lot.”

“I think giving that to long-time members is a good idea. It costs more to get and retain new people, let’s focus on the people we have.”

“Exactly.” Harry smiles. “So, here’s a binder full of information I had my assistant put together. If you could look through it and take some notes, I can-“

“I’m going to stop you right there.” She slides the binder back over to him. “I’m not your admin, I’m not going to be the only one doing the clerical work. Also, do not assign tasks to me like I’m lesser than you.”

“Jeremy said you could learn from me. I’m just showing you my process. Like me or not, I have a good track record with my clients. I’ve already looked through the binder and put my notes in the margins. I just wanted you to look it over as well so we have the same information.”

“You could have said that in the first place.” She murmurs.

“You’re very hostile when you don’t need to be.”

“If I’m hostile it’s because you make the environment that way. You’re always so combative. You make everything a competition!”

“That’s our job! We compete for clients.”

“But you’re especially competitive with me. I’m a woman in a male dominated field and office, I have to work twice as hard as you. If I show the wrong emotion, I’m a bitch or a pushover or weak or nasty.”

“Are you telling me that I don’t work hard? That I didn’t work hard to get to where I am?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. Your father was the CFO! Of course you got one of the best jobs here.”

“I worked my way up same as you.”

“It wasn’t the same, Harry.”

“You’re right, I didn’t sleep my way to top.”

“Excuse me?!”

“Don’t act so surprised that I figured it out, it’s obvious.”

“What’s obvious?” Her eyes and nostrils are flaring.

“You hooked up with Jeremy, that’s how you got the open position without going through the formal interview process. That’s why you dress and act the way you do. You wanted his attention, you got it, and you have him something in return. Now, I don’t know if you blew him under his desk or if you let him fuck you, but-“ Smack! Harry clutches at his cheek, and looks at her in shock. Her chest is heaving and her eyes are watery.

“How fucking dare you.”

“Did you just slap me?! I could report you, I could-“

“And I could report you for sexual harassment and defamation of character! That’s how you think I got this job? By sleeping with the CEO?”

“It had to have been! I see the way he looks at you. I see the way everyone looks at you.”

“I asked for a meeting with him, not even knowing there was going to be a position opening up. I just wanted to sit with him and go over my goals and where’d I’d like to be in the next few years. I showed him my portfolio, he asked me a few questions, and we had a great conversation. He didn’t touch me, I didn’t touch him, it was all professional.”

“Mhm.” Harry rolls his eyes. “So every time we meet with him, I’m just imagining the look he gives you?”

“What look?”

“Like he’s ready to devour you right then and there.”

“Jeremy looks, but he doesn’t touch. He would never cheat on his wife, he needs her, and he knows she’d leave him if he did anything behind his back.”

“How could you possibly even know that?”

“His assistant told me. She wanted to know what the meeting was for, she was excited for me, and she gave me some tips. So, yeah, I wore one of my best outfits and let my cleavage pop a little, but I didn’t sleep with him. And even if I had, shame on you for shaming me for it. We all have to learn to play the game, Harry. Women are dealt a different hand, so we play the game differently. I didn’t do anything wrong.” She starts gathering her things. “I cannot believe that I have to continue to work on this project with you.”

“I can’t believe you slapped me.” He rubs his cheek and starts chuckling. “Got me pretty good.”

“I’m not a particularly violent person, but you said something totally out of line, H.” She looks at him. “It’s not funny.”

With that, she leaves the conference room. They communicate via email and Teams all day Thursday. She couldn’t bare to be in the same space as him. She even worked in a separate area so she wouldn’t have to look over and see him in his office. They agreed to meet late on Friday to get back to the task at hand. They ordered takeout and got to work. Keeping things strictly professional, not getting distracted by petty conversations. Harry ended up ordering some ice cream through Uber Eats. He’s got a sweet tooth, so now they take a break while they soak in the sugar.

“I think this is really starting to come together.” He says as he walks around the conference table, looking over their materials. “I think we could probably start putting our team together next week.”

“Agreed.” She nods. “I have to say, ice cream was a good idea.”

“Much needed.” Harry sets his cup down and stuffs his hands in his pockets. “I…haven’t formally apologized for what happened the other day. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.”

“It’s not about the way you spoke to me, it’s about you assuming I was fucking around with our boss to move up. And even if I was, it’s none of your business.”

“You’re right, it’s not.” He slowly approaches her. “To be honest, I don’t think it would have bothered me if it were anyone else.”

“Why? Because you already didn’t like me?”

“Yeah.” He smirks, stepping closer until her bum hits the edge of the conference table. He’s never been this close to her before. “But also…” He places his hands on either side of her on the table, their noses nearly brushing. “I hate the way the other guys look at you, especially Jeremy.”

“What do you care how other people look at me? Why do you even notice?”

“Because after I’m done looking at you, I’m looking to see if anyone else is seeing what I’m seeing.”

“What do you see?” She asks carefully, not faltering or backing down even though Harry is extremely intimidating in this position.

“The most frustratingly gorgeous woman.”

“You’re being mean.” Her bottom lip pouts ever so slightly, and Harry’s eyes darken.

“I’m being serious.” He closes his eyes and presses his forehead to hers. “You have no idea what it does to me when you pout like that.”

“H.”

“Tell me to back off if I’m making you uncomfortable.” He looks at her. “We can get right back to work, and I’ll promise to never get this close to you again.”

“You’re trying to get me caught up in something for leverage.” She pushes on his shoulders to get him to back up. “You want me to make a move so you can hold it over me. You’re being an ass and messing around.”

“I’m not messing around. Jesus Christ, not everyone in this world is out to get you.”

“I never said they were! God, you love to put words in my mouth.”

“I actually only have one thing I’d love to put in your mouth, but something tells me you wouldn’t go for it.”

“Oh, please.” She scoffs. “You’d blow your load the second the open air hits your prick. Virgins tend to lose it a little faster, but I’m sure you’ve looked that up before.”

“Why do you think I’m a virgin?” He laughs, exasperated.

“You seem very sexually repressed.” She crosses her arms over her chest, and looks him up and down. “And all this.” She gestures around him. “It doesn’t exactly scream, ‘this guy fucks’.”

“I’ll have you know I get compliments all the time on my clothes.”

“Just because they fit right doesn’t mean they’re appealing.”

“How would you know if they fit right?” He smirks.

“It’s hard not to notice when you’re always wearing pants that are tight around your ass. You’re like a math teacher or something, you love to lean over a table during a meeting and stick your butt out.”

“It’s more comfortable to stand that way.” He shrugs. “And just to circle back, if anyone’s sexually repressed, it’s you.”

“Me?”

“You’re entire aura screams that you need to get dicked down, and you need it bad.”

“Well you’re right about that.” She agrees. “But not from you. I’m not in the mood to explain the female anatomy to someone. Did you know that women can orgasm too? It’s not just something men can do.”

“Is that right.” Harry nods.

“Mhm, and we can get wet as well. Not something I would expect you to know anything about.”

“Are you wet right now?”

“That’s not a question you ask someone.” Her cheeks flush.

“Why not? Our conversation is already so vulgar. Answer the question, are you wet? Are you turned on? Are you hot?”

“Come find out for yourself.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah.” She motions to him to come closer. “I give you full permission to touch me and find out.”

“You’re bluffing.”

“I’m not.”

Harry steps towards her, slinging an arm around her waist to pull her closer. His other hand reaches to unzip the zipper on the side of her skirt. His fingers skim along her sheer stockings before tucking them inside. She takes a deep breath, but continues to hold eye contact with him.

“You’re sure you’re okay with this?” He asks.

“Yes.”

His fingers slide down further, moving between her folds and the cotton cloth covering her. His nostrils flare when he feels how wet she is. He didn’t think he did it for her, he’s pleasantly surprised. She’s not overly drenched or anything, but she’s definitely aroused. They look at each other, both of their hearts beating rapidly.

In a flash, Harry’s hands are flying to her jaw and he’s taking her bottom lip between his teeth. The surprised gasp she makes gives him access to the inside of her mouth. His tongue molds with hers. He’s aggressive, but not in an inexperienced excited way that would have him slobbering all over her, no, it’s the type of aggressive where if he doesn’t keep kissing her they’ll both die. He moves the various papers behind her on the table and sits her up on it. She’s on her back in seconds with him on top of her, pressing his hard cock into her hip. She tries to shift to get him where she wants him, but her skirt is too tight around her thighs. She moans into his mouth and tugs on his tie. They’re doing a lot of grinding and grabbing, but it’s frustrating.

“I’m about ready to just rip your blouse open.” He growls against her mouth.

“We can’t do this here.” She pants. “C-cameras.”

“They’re only in the halls.”

“Harry.” She pushes on his chest and she sits up. “I don’t feel comfortable doing this here.”

“Right.” He runs a hand through his hair. “It’s late, we both got carried away. We should-“

“Let’s go back to my place.”

“Are you serious?”

“I’m only offering once.”

“Text me your address, I’ll meet you there.”

She’s freaking out. She almost tells him not to come, but it’s too late. She can see his headlights through her front windows. She opens the front door before he even has a chance to knock, but he’s not complaining because his lips are back on hers. He pushes her up against the nearest wall, hard, and gets a hand wrapped gently around her throat. He hooks his thumb into her mouth, and she sucks on it, but she doesn’t give him the satisfaction of smiling while doing so. She nips at the pad of his thumb before he takes it out.

“Where’s your bedroom?”

“Upstairs.”

“Lead the way.”

She tugs him up the stairs, and into her room. She starts unbuttoning her blouse, but Harry’s got her on the bed before she can get it off. He kisses on her chest, biting and sucking on the top of her breasts. She weaves her fingers through his curls, pushing him closer to her. He kisses down her sternum and tugs her skirt off of her. He cups her over her stockings, grounding his palm against her. She arches her back slightly and moans. He grips the band of her stockings, curls the material around his fist, and stretches it tight over her pussy. She gasps as he wedges his thigh between hers while keeping the material tight over her. It all provides the perfect amount of friction.

“Go on, work for it.” He says to her.

“Huh?”

“You like working hard for things, right? Show me how you work for your orgasm.” He moves his thigh from side to side against her, and she groans.

She moves along with him, feeling herself get warm all over. He licks into her mouth, and stretches the stockings tighter. She’s breathing heavily against his mouth. She didn’t something like this would be getting her there, but the whole thing is just so hot, and he’s really turning her on. Her back arches as she grinds against him, her head moving from side to side on her pillows, and she comes just as her stockings tear at the crotch.

“Oops.” He says as he looks down.

“Happens more often than you think.” She breathes. “They’re not expens-“

Harry’s tearing them further at the crotch, and moving her panties to the side so he can lick over her. He presses down on her stomach to keep her in place. His mouth is warm, and he’s moaning into her. She’s squirming against him. It’s been a really long time since someone’s made her feel this good. And being fucked by her colleague that she can’t stand is giving her a type of euphoria she’s never experienced before.

Her toes curl when he sucks on her clit. He pushes her thighs further apart, and licks inside of her. He sucks, and licks, and spit, and makes a sloppy mess of her. She’s in complete shock, but she’s not complaining. She’s too busy tugging on Harry’s curls and grinding against his mouth. He told her to work for it, so she’ll continue to do just that.

“Oh, shit. Oh, shit!” She comes unexpectedly, and it knocks the wind out of her.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. They start grabbing at each other and rolling around on the bed to get their clothes off. They can’t get naked fast enough. He pins her down again once they’re unclothed, keeping her wrists above her head on the bed. He slips a finger inside of her and her mouth falls open. He sucks on her bottom lip as a second finger joins the first.

“You’re just as sweet as a peach, you know that?” He says hotly into her ear, making her eyes roll back. His thumb starts rubbing around her clit as his fingers work deep inside of her. “Knew you would.”

“You’ve thought about going down on me before?”

“I’ve thought about doing everything to you.” He moves to look at her, wanting to watch her face as he loosens her up. “I don’t have any condoms with me.”

“I have some in my d-drawer.”

“Good. Get one.” He pulls his fingers from her and stands up. She reaches into her side-table drawer for a condom and hands it to him.

“It’s so big.” She says to him as he rolls the condom on.

“Don’t worry, we’ll make it fit.” He knees back onto the bed and knocks her legs back open. He lines himself up with her and pushes inside. “Jesus.” He clutches at the pillow by her head. “Sucked me right in, but you’re still so tight.” He pulls out and pushes right back in. “You good?”

“Yeah, please, just…fuck me.”

He gets a steady rhythm going for them. He wants to get a feel for her body before doing anything fancy. Besides that, he’s really liking the feeling of being chest to chest with her. He sits up slightly to grope at her breasts. He sucks one of her nipples into his mouth and groans. He wants to touch and kiss her all over. He sits up all the way and puts of her legs over his shoulder, moving her slightly so she’s on her side.

“Oh my god!” Her mouth falls open. “S-so deep. Oh my fucking god.” She starts panting, feeling like she can’t even breathe. This position is incredible.

They shift until she’s on her belly, and he’s fully on top of her fucking her from behind. He snakes an arm between her and the mattress. They’re grinding together in perfect sync, moving their hips in slow circles. Her breathing evens out, and he gives her hip a squeeze. He drags his fingers to her ass and rubs her between her cheeks.

“Is this okay?” He asks her. “Can I play with it a little?”

“Yes.” She nods.

He rubs her clit at the same time with his other hand, and she tightens up the second his finger starts to circle around her other hole.

“Need you to relax for me, Peach.” He nibbles on her ear as she tries to calm herself. “That’s good, just breathe.”

She moans out as she starts to feel completely overstimulated. Her clit is throbbing, her pussy is pulsating around his cock, and his other hole is taking his finger in with ease. It’s all too much, and it’s all so good.

“I’m gonna come again.” She shoves her face into her duvet as cries out into it. Harry doesn’t let up one bit, elongating all of the sensations. She can’t stop moaning and crying. He pulls out of her and lays on his back. She immediately shifts to straddle him, sinking down until she’s completely full of him. Her nails rake down his chest. “It’s really annoying that you feel this good.”

“Still think I’m a virgin?” He smirks, gripping her hips to move her along with his thrusts.

“N-no.” She grabs at her own breasts and lets her head roll back. “You can get a lot of experience by just fucking one person.”

“You’re a brat.” He swats at her ass as he chuckles. “Normally I don’t like, but right now it’s really doing something for me.” He sits up and smiles at her. “Keep your wrists behind your back and fuck yourself on me.” She nods and uses her knees to help herself move up and down on him. She switches between that and grinding down on him in circles. His hands come up to grope at her breasts, loving the way they feel in his hands. She tightens around him and starts moving faster. “Fuck, that’s it. Fuck me, god, just fuck me.”

“Oohhh my god.” There’s sweat rolling down her spine, and she can’t help but wrap her arms around him as she comes around him again, kissing him with everything she’s got.

He moves them so he’s back on top of her, hooking an arm under her knee, and fucking into her deeper than he has all night. His free hand wraps around her throat, gently squeezing and applying the perfect amount of pressure.

“Okay?” He asks her, letting up to make sure she can answer.

“Yes.”

Her hand comes down between them to take care of her clit, making him nearly lose it right then and there. He loves it when a woman just takes what she wants to get what she needs.

“I want you to keep your eyes open and on me.” He tells her. “Can you do that?”

“Yes.” She says to the best of her ability.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful. I wish you could see how you look right now.”

“Harry.”

“Aww, are you gonna come again?” He pouts mockingly at her, and she nods. He nods along with her, still pouting. “You’re gonna come with me, so hold on.”

“Please, I…it feels so good. You feel so good.” Her free hand comes up to his shoulder, sinking her nails into his skin.

“It must piss you off that I’m making you feel this good.”

“You have no idea.” She says through gritted teeth.

Harry grins, and comes down to kiss her. He moans into her mouth as he starts to let go. His orgasm is right at the base of spine, and he’s ready to spill. She moans louder from hearing moan loudly. The room fills with the sounds of their sex, and they both fully submit to each other. He continues with slow thrusts as he drops her legs. His hands cup her jaw as they kiss each other without any precision, they both just need to do something with their mouths. Her hands squeeze at his hips and ass. His skin feels so good on hers.

After a few tender moments, Harry gets up and makes his way into her bathroom to clean himself up. Her head is reeling. What the fuck did she just do?! Did she seriously just sleep with her coworker whose guts she hates?

He comes out of the bathroom, letting the light from that guide him to find his clothes. He glances at her a few times, his chest is flushed and his forehead is damp. She sits up slightly, covering herself with her sheets. She’s overthinking everything. All of this is insane.

And there he was, looking at her with the smuggest look she’s ever seen. He’s tucking his shirt back into his pants, fastening the button and zipper, and looking up at her with rosy cheeks and closed-mouth grin. When all she does is look at him stoically, he chuckles softly, shakes his head, and finishes getting dressed. He leans in to leave a peck to her forehead before departing.

“Harry.” She calls to him, making him turn to look at her. “This was a one-time thing.”

“Whatever you say, Peach.”

And then he’s gone.

#harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry styles y/n #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfic #harry styles angst #enemies to lovers #harry styles

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powerovernothing · 3 years ago

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Hello to all of my wonderful friends and fantastic readers! This may be a little different from all I have recently uploaded onto my blog, but I am coming to you guys with a little bit of an interest post in regards to something exciting that has been on my mind for quite some time now. It should come to no surprise that the massive storyline involving my Oblivion character Korbin Redd and his relationship with his adoptive siblings has been steadily growing in depth and detail over the years I have been working on it. However, what may be more of a surprise is the fact it has grown so much where I have over seventy stories that I wish to complete in this journey and then ultimately place into an official compilation entitled “Shadow and Flame” rather than “The Knight, The Emperor, And The Assassin” which you might be more familiar with. With every new development, every new story, and even every new small meme or joke post I have created over this long road has brought new readers, new interest, and support that means so much that I surely could never possibly repay. To know there are those out there that actually enjoy my writing and the things I create is something I could have only ever dreamed of having. Perhaps it is because of this very same interest and support that has led me to consider a new type of creative outlet. And thus, today I offer you all a question I would truly enjoy hearing your responses and reactions to! That question being:

“Would you join a personalized server that would be half dedicated to Korbin and his brother’s story and half dedicated to Elder Scrolls related fan content?”

Of course, I am certain most of this is very overwhelming and quite strange, but not to worry! A lot has been in development for a considerable amount of time, and if you wish to see what sort of ideas and events will be apart of this server in a much more coherent list, please feel free to look below:

=A very welcoming and casual space for LGBTQ+ Elder Scrolls fans and content creators to share their creations, original characters, worlds, and more with those who create the same~ =The Elder Scrolls related news and updates from actual games such as ESO but also from popular Mods such as Beyond Skyrim and Skyblivion =Fun events such as Screenshot and Writing Competitions, Question of the Day, Game and Movie Nights, Art and Writing Trades, and Secret Santas~ =TKTEATA related events such as Q&A, FAQ, and Suggestion sessions in both written and Voice Chat form, Writing Games, and Create a Character nights~! =Never before seen works in progress and lengthy writing scenarios based around Korbin and his brothers, early access to content before it gets posted on Tumblr such as full stories, Incorrect Quotes, edited screenshots, cover art, as well as timely updates on all things coming soon, and content based of things that have not been seen outside of Discord such as stories and edits involving my ESO Verse, Modern Verse, The Search for the Razor, The Gardener and The Mad Man, and so, so much more~!

That’s quite a lot of nice looking stuff, wouldn’t you say? There’s a lot more in the works such as fun bots, roles, and an experienced modding team to keep things friendly and enjoyable for everyone, of course, but I think for now this will suffice in the hopes of gaining interest from those who are familiar with my work, my company, or just those who are looking for a nice place to relax when they need it! Also as a side note, while my activity regarding my Tumblr has been extremely lackluster for some time, I am actually more active on Discord than ever. I rarely go a day without interacting in some fashion, and most of my work gets posted there first, as well as times where it actually gets created from chats and suggestions! So, if you ever wanted to witness my creative progress, or just wanted to have a way to interact with me one on one about anything and everything involving my TES work, or just in general, then know that this would be a very good way to do so!

In any case, please feel free to look this post over, let me know what you think by either reblogging or leaving a like, and if there are any questions, suggestions, or those falling in between, please feel free to message me either here on my Discord -- PowerOverNothing#3480 -- and I will do my very best to answer whatever I possibly can! Thanks so much for reading! And until the next post comes~! ♥

#tes #the elder scrolls #the elder scrolls oblivion #discord server #elder scrolls discord #Important Things~#Ponnie Rambles~

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syndxlla · 4 years ago

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Part ten of the More To Love Series

Summary: The ball is tomorrow night and preparations are in full swing in the Mandalorian Palace. In desperate need of a break from all of the Masquerade planning, you get away from the palace for a few hours. This gives you a chance to reflect on your relationship with the Knight, learn more about his past, and grow closer with Koska.

Word Count: 10.9k, NO ‘Y/N’

Warnings: SMUT (handjob, grinding, this is like actually sort of gross if you over think it so just don’t over think it thanks <3), THIS IS EXPLICIT, 18+ CONTENT, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. Swearing. Mentions of: blood, scars, fighting, hand-to hand combat.

IMPORTANT PLEASE READ: insight of recent events surrounding my tumblr, I have added an additional in-text warning for the smut scenes. This will continue for future chapters for those who do not wish to read the explicit scenes of More to Love.

Author’s Note: HEY, it’s been a little while, huh? Happy to be back. THANK YOU FOR 1k FOLLOWERS HOLY CRAP!! You all mean so much to me and the support of this fic is unlike anything I could have ever asked for! Also... the smut in this gets,, nasty. Like not that bad it isn’t super kinky or needs lots of warnings it’s just... like gross if you think too hard about that so do me a favor and don’t overthink it haha. OKAY LOVE YOU ENJOY

Part Nine

“No, If you keep that elbow down it will throw off your balance.”

“Okay, what if I hold it like this.”

“No it will get more tired faster.”

“Well how long do I have to keep it up like this?”

“Until the song ends!” You sigh, your fingers coming up to hold your eyebrow out of frustration. You and the Knight have been in the library for nearly an hour trying to learn how to waltz together and if you didn’t know any better, you’d guess he had two left feet. He was starting to get the hang of it, though. Slowly but surely and through a lot of trial and error but you don’t have very much room to talk because an hour before this one, he was just as frustrated with you because you couldn’t swing at him with nearly enough power needed to make some damage on anyone. This is how you’ve spent your last two evenings with the knight. The two of you sarcastically bullying one another in learning the opposite’s art. It was already Friday, the ball was tomorrow and you weren’t sure if he was going to be able to pull it together in time. The worst part is that you haven’t had anytime privately with him to do your... usual antics. There was always someone with you, usually Korkie or Koska, or the dance and fighting practice took up too much time to really have any fun.

The palace has been bustling the last two days. Every servant has had a task they were always doing, there was no down time for them which meant lots of downtime for the Royals. If there was no one to set up tea, then there would be no tea, simple as that.

Because of the high workload put on the staff of the palace, each royal has been subject to dinner in their own rooms alone this week, which was a dream come true for you. Dinner was your least favorite time of the day because of how painful it was to get through socially. And it also meant you got to spend more time with your own thoughts. You still aren’t sure what to do about the marriage, especially since you’ve admitted to yourself that you think you are falling for the beskar-clad knight who stands watch outside your door.

Even Soniee has been spending less time inside your quarters pampering you (you could really use a bubble bath). At all hours of the day, there was either a team of butlers carrying large bouquets of flowers down ornate hallways, a chef interrupting your dress fitting with Soniee and Koska to have you try another flower-flavored mousse, or an immediate meeting with the Queen to learn about some of your guests who will be at the masquerade and how to properly greet them. One time yesterday, you were asked to review the lanterns they picked out for the garden decorations. You were so indifferent to the ones they picked that the servants actually sent you back inside out of frustration. Along with the controlled chaos of preparations, the mask making has still left you feeling guilty. Just this morning you caught a glimpse of Koska’s shaky hands that had clearly been pricked by one too many needles while sewing jewels into the Queen’s mask. You must have apologized too much because she eventually got snarky and asked you to quit saying sorry about it. As much as you would like to dance with your knight with others looking on, you weren’t sure if it was worth all the pain and labor others were putting themselves through for it.

Party planning was exhausting, and on top of all of it, you needed to teach the most uncoordinated man in the kingdom how to waltz. It genuinely baffled you how he was able to be so methodical and perfect in hand-to hand combat and in bed but can barely hold his own in situations such as these. There was something charming about that flaw, however.

Now, the golden sunlight of the aging day was pouring into the towering windows of the Mandalorian library. It had made the room warm, and showed just how valuable the knight’s dark skin was as his bare hands soaked in the rays. You caught yourself staring at them a few too many times, which to your dismay, he caught you doing.

“You’re staring again.” He says while the two of you are practicing the basic 1, 2, 3 waltz step. Your eyes jump back to the emotionless visor of the beskar helmet which looked down at your face. You didn’t even realize you were looking at your hand holding out to the right, studying the way his knuckles looked and how clean his fingernails were.

“Sorry… It’s just that dancing is usually an emotional thing, you’re supposed to play off of eachother I suppose.” You shrug, stopping the dance. You realized you had been searching for something to play off of, anything, even if it’s just the calloused fingers of a hard worker.

You wouldn’t think the two of you would be so far behind and underprepared but for a majority of these rehearsals you’ve been the one leading as he figures it out. You know how bad it would look if you were the one leading tomorrow, and you’re starting to lose hope that you’re going to pull this off. You had wished you started teaching him earlier, but knew that he would have never agreed before now.

“Princess, you do realize that you’re probably still not going to see my face if we dance tomorrow.” He drops your hands. You sigh, you did know it, you just didn’t want to admit it.

“I know… when do you take it off?” You couldn’t remember if you had asked this already. Maybe you were out of line for asking, but a piece of you didn’t care, you deserved to know.

He was quiet, he always was when you asked him something personal. Maybe he was hoping you would get the idea by now…

“When I eat, when I sleep… sometimes around my son. Sometimes around other guards.” He said as he walked towards one of the library windows. You followed him, a few footsteps behind. He stopped at the glass, his reflection disturbing the pristine scene outside. You could see the beach from this window, not as well as in other parts of the castle, but the horizon of the Mandalorian sea was still in view. Your reflection came up behind his. You could see the exhale of his lungs from the shift in armor weight.

“I understand if you never want to show me.” You said. You didn’t really believe that, but you did respect him, and because of that you had to accept the reality that he may never show you. Maybe you were just trying to convince yourself that. You walk a little further to him and stand up on your tippy-toes so that you may rest your chin on his shoulder, looking out at the world below. It was so peaceful from up here. You’ve only left palace grounds once in the last two weeks and you desperately want to again. Being cooped up inside an oil painting was getting exhausting. “I want to go somewhere.” You mutter, your arms wrapping around his waist to hug him from behind: a pure and innocent act of affection.

“What?” His helmet turns to the side just a little bit so that you might hear him better. “Like… the Garden? The Parlor?”

“No!” You chuckle against his pauldron, “Outside, I want to get out of the palace again.”

“Did you forget what happened last time we went out?” He asks meditatively. “We can’t risk anything happening to you before tomorrow, The Queen would be furious, and even worse, Koska would be too.”

“Of course I didn’t forget! I’ll have the scar to always remind me” You giggle at his remark. “And besides, I-I want to go to the water.” You step out from behind him to look out at and gesture to the gentle waves against the golden beach. “I’ve been on a sandy beach before.” You clear your throat.

“We… might be able to arrange that. How about we go on Sunday? After the ball?” He attempts to negotiate.

“Or we could go now? There’s no formal dinner tonight.” You suggest.

“Your parents are coming in tonight, along with a number of other guests, not to mention Grand General Vizsla, all the Royal Guard is to be presented to him at nine.” He groans, but you were determined to convince him. You really needed a break from all of the planning, fittings and tastings.

“So? It’s barely five! We can just go for a little while!” You say as you look at the grandfather clock that sits nestled between two bookcases. You weren't feeling very optimistic, you doubted he would not budge, he’s always been so stubborn. “I can repay you…” You bite your lip. You were also incredibly horny and remember overhearing a maid back home talk about sex on the beach. It had always excited you.

He sighs again.

“Please? For me? I seriously deserve a break, so do you.” You reach out to stroke his hand. You knew that would probably work, it has before.

“Fine-“

“Really!?”

“Yes, but we have to tell Koska just so they don’t think we’re missing again.” He turns to walk out of the library. You silently congratulate yourself on getting the most unmovable and obedient man in the galaxy to go against his orders and do what you want. You happily skip behind him. “It takes a while to get all the way down to the beach so we should probably take a horse.” He says on the move. “Do you know how to ride?”

“I’m royalty, of course I do… do you?” You revising a teasing eyebrow.

He scoffs at your question, “There is much you do not know about me.”

“Well, you make it sort of hard for me to learn.” You roll your eyes playfully. He elbows you in the side, knocking you off your balance. You attempt to do the same to him, nudging him right back but not even getting the boy to budge and hurting your funny bone a little against the Beskar.

It takes you two a few minutes of complete silence and portrait-perfect stature to get all the way down the palace into the servants quarters. The only other time you had been in these narrow, stone hallways in the ground level of the Mandalorian Castle was earlier this week after Korkie begrudgingly led you back to your quarters in a wet peasant gown and a stinging bicep.

By the time the knight and yourself had made it down here, he was leading you through the maze of corridors, past helmetless knights who all nodded out of respect as they passed you, and into a wooden-arch. The room you had entered into must have been the servant’s common room, because it was about the size of the dining room. A candle-lit, wooden chandelier hung over four long tables, unlike the glass and oil-lamp chandeliers in the rest of the palace. A large fireplace burned on one wall, illuminating the room more and several small, gothic-arch windows towards the ceiling allowed warm light to pour into the cozy hall. Several handmaidens bejeweled masks at one table, twice as many sewed the bases of the coverings at another. One table showcased all of the finished designs, which depicted extravagant bird beaks, colorful fox and wolf snouts, towering cat and rabbit ears, ornate peacock tails, sharp antlers and horns on some and even incredible tusks on a few. They were all breathtaking, and while you felt guilty for making so many staff members work double-time, you appreciated their handy-work in making your dream come true.

The fourth and final table was mostly empty, a few elderly and child servants ate potato soup at it, and one maid cleaned her finger-nails at the opposite end. Everything was so simple and normal, it was such a display of controlled chaos that almost made you forget about the corruption in Mandalore… almost.

A sharp whistle rang through the room, and immediately, everyone dropped what they were doing, stood up swiftly from their seats on the long benches that paralleled each table, and turned to look at you before bowing deeply and diligently. They hadn’t even noticed you were there at first and interrupting their normalcy was not what you intended to do, but then you caught sight of who it was that sang the whistle. Koska Reeves was walking through the bowed, silent heads to you and the Knight. She looked exhausted, her hair was down and over her shoulders instead of pinned up in the intricate braids she usually wore them in when she was around royalty. The amount of fly-always was distracting but you couldn’t blame her, she would not disappoint the Queen with her work, even if that meant looking a little rough and disheveled.

“What’s the meaning of this? All royalty is supposed to be approved before coming in here.” She says to your knight chivalrously, then turns to you, “This is no sight for you, princess.” Something told you that she wasn’t only referring to the activities taking place in the common room. “I am sorry for our disorder.”

“No worries, Lady Reeves. There’s no need to apologize. I am most impressed by the work done on the masks for tomorrow.” You gesture to the table with the completed designs.

She sighs and smiles, “Thank you.” She nods before turning around, “Carry On!” She calls out to the room and everyone returns to normal as if nothing out of the ordinary happened, as if you weren’t even there. There was something you liked about that, something that reminded you that even though you have a lucky bloodline, you’re human too, and not all that different from the workers in this very room. Their daily routine was fascinating to you. “What do you two want?” She hushes her voice and drops her “right-hand woman to the queen”, first lady-in-waiting and head of the Mandalorian royal staff persona. She’s now the same brash friend you two shared.

“We want to go out for a while, it’ll just be a few hours but we knew we needed to tell someone in case anyone notices that we’re missing.” The Knight nods, explaining the situation. She raises a questionable eyebrow.

“Absolutely not, we cannot risk anything happening to her before tomorrow night.” Your heart drops.

“That’s what I said, but she��s incredibly convincing.” He shrugs, tilting his head just enough to show the extra bit of emotion. Koska looks between the two of you, her hands perched firmly on her hips. You caught sight of her hands again, which were now bandaged tightly with the same white gauze that she wrapped your cut arm with earlier this week. You wondered if that was done to dress bleeding wounds, keep the shakiness from over-working and late nights in control, or a dreadful mix of both. A terrible feeling told you it was the third.

“Vizsla is going to be here.” She raises an eyebrow, her intimidating demeanor hasn’t gone away even after she’s become aware of your little secret (well, actually massive, life-altering, “how-the-hell-am-I-gonna-fix-this?” secret). “If you aren’t here, that could result in a court-martial from the Queen herself.”

“Sounds tempting.” He replies.

“You and I both know what’s going to happen to you and your little boy if you step out of line, even once, which is why I’m guarding your scandle so close to my heart.” Her voice get’s real quiet when she says that, and he shifts his weight. Your heart drops, what in the world could she mean by that? “You know what could happen to you if I accidentally slip something, that’s why I won’t cover for you.”

“What the hell does that mean?” You whisper. She glances at you and then right back to him.

“Wow, you really haven’t told her much, have you?” Koska’s arms move from her hips into a fold over her chest. He doesn’t respond.

“Told me much about what?” You ask, worried about whatever was going on that you didn’t know about. Every day you’re reminded about how much of a stranger he really is to you.

“All she knows is that I had an old job, that’s all she needs to know.” He bites back, his voice equally hushed.

“If you’re fucking her, she deserves to know a lot more, but that’s just my opinion.” Koska chuckles once and you blush red hot. “I mean, at least tell her your name.”

“Why is this happening here? Now?” He gestures to the very crowded room. “Look, we just want to go down to the beach for an hour at the most. We’ll be back long before Vizsla gets here. You won’t have to cover for us, I swear.” He tries changing the subject but your mind is racing with the possibilities and confusion of the conversation you were just welcomed into.

Koska looks between the two of you a few times again, carefully considering what’s on the table and the risk. “Fine, one horse. I mean it, only one because if two are gone, someone will notice and then I’m gonna have to do exactly what I told you I wouldn’t do and what you said I won't have to: cover for your ass. Get out of here.” She beckons her head to a door that leads outside as a smile spreads across your cheeks. “Djarin! Don’t be late!” She calls out as you begin walking. That’s the second time you have heard that word, both times uttered from Koska’s mouth. Something wanted you to believe that might be his name but you were far too scared to find out for your own. You would try to remember it this time.

The knight leads you out of the room, and you watch Koska over your shoulder as you follow, studying the way she stood still immediately after you walk away, taking a few deep, sharp breaths and then promptly returning to her work. You wondered if she was tired, remembering that not everyone who lives in the Mandalorian Palace has the same relaxing lifestyle that you have.

Despite the aging daylight, it was still deathly hot. The heat of summer bled onto your shoulders, which were still partially covered due to the scarring cut in your muscle. The clothing only added to the heat. The part of the Castle grounds you were were foreign to you. They weren’t the beautiful, lush and trimmed gardens or breezy courtyards you usually spend your afternoons in, no. It was dark, the tall height of the palace shading the courtyard where knights sparred and a pair of little servant girls chased one another. One wall that lined the courtyard was the horse stables, and another was a blacksmith. The golden light shone through the stables, and you were able to spot the four white horses that took you and Korkie to Keldabe earlier this week despite the beasts being backlit.

“You can ride, I’ll just walk.” He says as he guides you to a palomino, a tall horse with a Caramel body and pure white mane.

“Are you sure?” You ask, not wanting him to have to walk.

“Of course.” He says as he mindlessly bridles the horse, petting him on the nose a few times. “Do you prefer a saddle?” He asks. You nod, and he swings the seat over the back of the steed.

“Does this horse have a name?” You ask, reaching your hand out to pet his neck a few times. The horse nickers at your touch.

“He likes you.” The Knight chuckles. You smile at the statement, and continue to stroke the soft hair on the neck. “Clove.” He says, his voice velvet and full of caring. The knight knew this horse. They had a bond. “Here.” He holds his hand up for you to hoist yourself onto the saddle. You were in no way dressed for riding, and the saddle wasn’t even a side-riding seat, but you would make it work. You knew that on the palace grounds you would have to ride side-saddle, it’s customary, and how you learned. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t ride regularly. The horses back home in Corellia were massive beasts, animals suited for harsh winters and heavy amounts of snow, thick fur covers their ankles so that they can trudge through deep snow and pull sleighs. The Mandalorian horses were far more majestic, more like show horses than work horses. Clove was gentle, though, that was something that wasn’t common for the strong horses up north. He didn’t move a muscle or bat an eyelash as you heave yourself onto his back, adjusting yourself to sit properly, the knight’s hand holding yours tightly as you positioned yourself and then rearranging the heavy skirt of your dress to properly cover your legs. His plan grazes your shin as he does it, and your eyes immediately catch the visor of his beskar helmet. You liked to think he was looking at your eyes, too. The moment is so still, time freezing for half a second.

He starts to walk the horse out of the opposite side of the stable and into the field behind the palace. You could see the tree line of the garden from here. The bridle was tightly wrapped around his hand as he led the two of you out of the palace and into the hot, hot sun. This was the first time you’ve ridden a horse in a very long time, and you had almost forgotten how much you loved it. A cheesy smile was on your face, and your eyes cycled from the mane of the horse, the shoreline ahead, the back side of the ornate castle and the top of the helmet of the knight. The sun reflected off of the beskar, causing a bright illumination to shine on the bodice of your gown. He walked methodically and quietly, and you wanted to start a conversation with him but it didn’t feel right.

Comfortable silence is often overlooked, something taken for granted that is really only shared between two trusting people. You aren’t sure if you’ve ever experienced a genuine comfortable silence with anyone before. Being a royal has a lot of “fine print”, one of which being that no one ever shut up. Korkie isn’t the only self-centered, talkative royal in this world. The thing that sets Korkie aside from the rest is the fact that you’ll have to deal with it intimately for the rest of your life.

There was something wildly attractive about the introvert by your side. Because he was few with words, it caused you to seek them out, and cherish what little you did get. He was warming up to you, opening up and every time you get a moment alone with him, he says a little more. Your conversations now are very different from that first night in the castle when he helped you untie your corset. All he said originally was “Goodnight, Princess”, and now he’s telling you about the stars and teaching you how to fight and defend yourself. The idea that it’s happened too fast has crossed your mind several times, but you considered that when you’re alone with someone almost all day, every day, you’re bound to get to know one another quicker than usual. However, you’ve also been afraid that you came off too harsh, maybe you jumped into it all too fast and overwhelmed him. What if he’s only complying to the relationship because he’s obligated to through his duty? You had to admit that there were a number of insecurities surrounding your friendship, you would be lying to yourself if you didn’t think that. Maybe you felt that way because you relied so heavily on him to get away from the other boy in your life who you can’t escape no matter how hard you try. Was it entirely possible that the knight feels about you the way you feel about Korkie? That very thought made you sick, your stomach twisting and preventing you from enjoying the beautiful landscape ahead.

“What’s wrong?” He asks. He noticed that you had tensed up. You silently curse yourself for not hiding it better.

“What?” Your look down at him, forcing a false smile. He was looking up at you now, his hand resting on your knee. Your eyes move from where he holds you and back up to the visor on his helmet. “Oh… nothing.” You hum.

“You are a fool if you think you can hide anything from me.” He tilts his head and your cheeks burn with blush. You sigh, knowing you should tell him. The chances are that expressing these concerns to him might give you a piece of mind… or they could do the exact opposite. You aren’t sure if you can take the emotional weight of resenting two men who you admire. You admire them for entirely different reasons, however. You admire Korkie for his dedication to his kingdom, and you admire that he’s genuinely trying his best. However, you admire the Knight for his kindness, his patience, his protection. You admire his velour voice, his plush lips, and the way he touches you. You admire that he’s a father, that he’s split his dedication between his duty to his kingdom and his duty to his son. You admire his deep chuckle, and the way he kisses you, the way you can see him laugh when you shoot him silly faces during dinner. You both admired and was frustrated by his obedience to his creed. He kept promises, no matter how life-altering they may be.

As you reflect on all the reasons he meant anything to you, you felt a sense of peace. It was better, the feeling in your stomach, that is. You decide it is right to tell him, you recall your governess explaining to you that all good relationships are built on enthusiastic communication, and you wanted your relationship with the Knight to be considered ‘good’. You sigh and then speak up, “I just…” You take a sharp, deep breath in the middle of your sentence before speaking up again, “just lots of insecurities, I suppose.” You shrug.

“Insecure- about what?” He asks.

“Everything, but especially us.” You didn’t really want to have this conversation, but you knew you had to.

“May I ask why?” His tone was sincere.

You aren’t sure how to reply at first. “Is it too fast? Am I too much?” You ask after careful consideration of what you were going to bring up first.

“What? No.” You think this was the first time he had ever replied immediately after you ask him something. “What makes you think that?”

“I don’t know-“

“Yes you do… tell me.” He reassures.

“Our personalities are different, you’re quiet and stoic…”

“Is that… bad?”

“No! No, not at all. Royals just aren’t that, and I worry if we’re compatible enough. And don’t mistake me, I admire that about you, but I fear I’m too much for you.” You sigh, shaking your head. Clove nickers again as if he’s listening in on your conversation and chiming in. He doesn’t respond right away which you’ve gotten used to, but if it was any other situation you wouldn’t be overthinking it. You can’t take the silence anymore and speak up, “And there’s the added factor that I’m totally cheating on Korkie with you-”

“-If I thought you were too much, do you think I would let you teach me how to dance?” He interrupts. The words halt in your mouth, and you look at him almost dumbfounded. “Or do you think I would be teaching you how to defend yourself? Fucking you on a royal sofa in an un-locked room? Risking my title to take you to the beach?” He almost sounded… angry? Had you offended him for thinking that? Your legs tensed up on the horse, and you regretted everything you had said. He did have a point, you hadn’t really thought of that.

“I… suppose you’re right.” You mutter.

“I don’t have to be doing any of this,” He grabs your hand, holding it in his and uses his other hand to halt the horse. The three of you pause in the field between the beach and the castle. There had been a downgrade so you were mostly hidden but you could still the upper-towers of the palace. He looks up and you, and you find yourself wishing you could see his eyes again. “But I do because I’m… fond of you.” It sounds like he’s having a hard time getting the words out, but that isn’t very uncommon for him. Your heart flares up, this was the first time he had ever admitted anything like that.

“W-what?” You ask, sounding like a fool.

“I know, it’s crazy. How could a halfwit like myself deserve a Princess like you?” He chuckles under his breath. “Maybe the elf laid a spell on me, I don’t know. But I do know that ever since I was given the duty of protecting you, my life has been different.” You can’t believe what you’re hearing. “I’ve… I’ve never felt this way about anyone, and I don’t know what it is but I-I-“ You smile fondly, and use his hand to hop off the horse. You bring your hands up to hold the back of his neck.

“It’s not a spell.” You whisper. “I feel it too.”

“Then it’s a spell on both of us.”

“Maybe.” You move your hands up to his helmet, desperately wanting to remove it, but you remember what you told yourself the other day. If he wishes to show you his face, it should be his choice, he deserves to be the one to take the beskar off. You would respect that. Instead, you just run your fingertips along the lip of the helmet, looking into the visor enchantingly. “Then it would be a wonderful spell.”

His hands find their way to your waist, hugging you to his chest. You rest or head on his shoulder and just close your eyes, feeling his chest plate move with each breath. It’s so still, the summer breeze softly runs through the tall grass. You can hear the waves gently hugging the beach, and the two of you just stand there like that. Completely alone, the only companionship being one another and a mindlessly-grazing horse. No one to interrupt. No doors to lock. No Princes to lie to. No thieves to fight. Just the two of you. If you could stay in that moment for the rest of your life, you would. In the earlier days of your relationship, you used to worry you wouldn’t like what his face looked like, worried that he might be unattractive to you. But every selfish desire you had about his physical appearance dissolved with the wind. No matter what he looked like, or what his past was, or what his name was, you didn’t care. You didn’t care because he cared for you, and you cared for him, too.

Before you can soak in the moment any longer, you’re swiftly grabbing his wrist, and tugging him towards the beach. The stillness of the moment is lost, but you’re quickly giggling as he’s chasing you down the small slope to the beach. You pull your skirt up as far as you can so you don’t trip on it, and find yourself being unable to slow down before the hill meets the shore. The soil slowly becomes more and more sandy, and your feet are bolting against uneven land towards teal, clear water. Before you can reach the ocean, however, strong hands are wrapping around your waist, pulling you flush against the Knight’s chest. You can hear the low rumble of chuckling in his throat, and you have the biggest, dorkiest smile of all time on your face. He spins the two of you around a few times before setting you back down on the beach.

You’re out of breath from running, and your hair is already untidy from the unexpected change of direction. The wind blows it just softly, letting it pull away from your face and neck. He tucks one rogue strand behind your ear, and then cups your face. You hadn’t even realized he’s been gloveless this entire time. You close your eyes and rest your cheek into him. You turn your head ever-so-slightly to kiss his palm, laying a sweet and innocent peck to his calloused skin.

You wonder if he’s hot with all that armor on. If you were too warm with a dress, only he knows what it’s like to have to spend summers so formally.

He’s the one to pull away, walking towards the water. You follow him, and the two of you stand against the tide. You kick your shoes off and pull your dress up again. Stepping into the water. You giggle at the tickle of the sand and smile at the feeling of the warm water against your ankles. He watches you fondly with his arms crossed. The water in Corellia is never this warm, and you throw your head back in bliss, breathing in the salty air. This was the happiest you had ever been since you arrived in Mandalore. The break from all the rules and customs was very needed, and you soaked in the sound of the waves, a distant call of a gull, and the wind keeping your hair out of your face. The best part was the fact that you were experiencing it with the Knight. There is no other person you would rather spend this memory with. You bite your lip and close your eyes and you never want to leave, you want to stay here forever. You hear the sound of metal clinking behind you, and something heavy hitting the sand. You turn to look at the Knight, who had discarded most of his armor. His boots have been carefully set next to one another, and beside them were his pauldrons, wrist guards, thigh plates and breastplate. The chainmail was the next thing to be removed, leaving him in only the dark-brown underclothes. His trousers were heavy duty, covered in various pockets and made out of thick material, but his tunic was a thin material, still long sleeved, but flowy, allowing the fresh, summer breeze to run through the fabric. The two items of clothing were held together by a pair of black suspenders, and the entire ensemble made him oh so… human.

You had only seen him with all his armor on before, and witnessing his shell being removed was both humbling and inspiring. The armor added quite a bit of bulk to his stature, it rounded out his shoulders, boosted his posture, and broadened him out. That was the first thing you noticed about him on the first day you arrived, he was ample in size and it made you feel so primal and safe. Despite his smaller stature without the armor, he wasn’t one bit less attractive to you. He was still the same guy who you were slowly falling for and didn’t even know it. But as he cuffed up his trousers and rolled back his shoulders, you felt so comfortable in his presence. He wasn’t just a mass of armor and creeds and rules, no, he was just a man. He was a single father, a guy who doesn’t know the first thing about dancing, and a boy born across the world in the Nevarro frontier. He was just a man.

You couldn’t stop the warm feeling in your chest that came with this thought. Everything about him was far more simple than you initially thought.

He walked towards you, and you held out your hand for him to take. He laces his fingers with yours as he steps into the shallow water with you. Your dress drops, dipping into the water and getting wet but you can’t even be mad about it. Your smile is big as his hand tightly grasped yours, the two of you looking out at the horizon.

“When I was a boy-” he begins, his voice quiet, “I wanted to live on the sea. Join a ship crew and travel the waters. There was always something so adventurous about that thought.” He shares. You turn to look at him as he speaks, studying the contour of the helmet with your eyes.

“What stopped you?” You ask, not entirely sure if he would share, but this time he was the one to start the conversation, and you felt like he might this time.

He sighs, you see it, he turns to look at you, the two of you staring at one another as the temperature slowly dropped with the sun on the horizon. “I was orphaned when I was only five.” He shrugs, your heart breaks. “It was one of the Mandalorian wars that caused it.”

You can’t imagine what it’s like having to serve a kingdom so intimately when they were responsible for the death of your family. You give his hand a reassuring squeeze, letting him know that you’re here for him. “I’m sorry.” You whisper.

“It’s not your fault, it was so long ago I don’t really remember it.” He looks down at the water.

“Thank you, for sharing that with me.” You smile apologetically. You really did appreciate that he felt comfortable enough to share something so serious with you. While you were grateful that he had begun to open up to you, it still didn’t answer any of the questions about Mandalore’s past, and what Koska was referring to a few days ago. It didn’t tell you what his past job was and why he’s serving the royal family now. However, you supposed it didn’t really matter, not right now, not today.

After a little minute of listening to the waves, he reaches down into the water, picking up a flat, thin rock. He runs his pointer finger along the edge, outlining the shape before hatching it into the space between his index finger and thumb, reeling back, and flicking it out so it hopped over the water’s surface seven or eight times before falling in. You looked at him enchanted, like he had just expressed a magic trick to a bright-eyed child.

“How did you do that?” You ask in awe.

“You’ve never seen anyone skip a rock?” He asks. You slowly shake your head. You’ve been cooped up inside a wintry castle your entire life, of course you haven’t.

“Teach me.” You say a little too forcefully. He chuckles and looks down at the sand, looking for a pebble that might work. He bends down eventually, and picks out a similar looking rock to the original.

“So, you want a rock that’s thin and flat, like this one.” He shows you the sediment. You reach your hand out, taking it and outlining the edge of the stone with your finger similar to how he did. He walks behind you, sloshing in the water but eventually gaining position. He wraps his left arm around your waist, and cups your right hand which holds the rock in his. “Now, don’t throw it quite yet, okay?”

“Alright.”

“You’re gonna flick your wrist like this,” he motions both of your hands at the same time, pulling back and then shooting forward quickly. He does it two or three times before speaking up again. “You’ll use your pointer finger to pull back like the trigger on a crossbow, it will give the rock enough spin that it stays on top of the water.” He makes you do the motion along with him a few times again. “Your shoulders will draw back almost like you’re pulling back an arrow on a bow.” Again, he does the motion with you, your back flush to his chest. You admired that he was able to relate everything to weaponry. He definitely knew his way around combat, that was apparent to you. “Then, you add all three motions together, aim for the horizon, and-“ he pulls back with you and before you know it, the rock is spiraling out of your hand and onto the surface of the ocean. It doesn’t skip, though, and instead plops right into the water.

You frown and look back at him. “What did I do wrong?” You ask, you knew he would know what needed to change.

“You didn’t flick your finger enough. Try again.” He pulls another stone out with a grunt, and holds you against his body to pull back and send another rock out. This one skips once before plopping into the water again. You sigh out, frustrated. “Here, try without me.” He says after handing you a third flat stone. You carefully practice the motion once, desperately wanting to impress him. You then pull back and give it everything you got, only for the stone to plop in without skipping at all again.

“Ugh, lemme try again.” You say angrily. You can hear him laughing at you, but you ignore it, ready to try again and determined to get it right this time.

You must have thrown four more rocks after that with no results. Each time he tried giving you just a little more advice about different things, “Follow through” or “You had too much spin that time”. You were starting to get really frustrated, having never had to really work for anything in your life before, and you knew he was starting to have a hard time finding flat rocks. You would not give up on this.

“Maybe we can try again next time-“

“No.” You say forcefully, “We do not leave this beach until I skip a damn rock, so if you want to be back in time for your evaluation with Vizsla, I suggest you find me another rock.” You raise an eyebrow as you pull out your diplomatic royal voice. He holds his hands back in defense and then tosses you the stone he already had waiting for you. You sigh when you catch it, taking a deep breath and remembering all your training. Don’t spin too much, follow through, add all three motions together, have faith.

You pull back the stone, praying that it will all go according to plan because you aren’t sure how much longer you can take failure. You pick out your target with your eyes before adding together all the advice given to you and sending it. You can hardly believe your eyes when you see it skip at least five times over the water. You cheer out in accomplishment and look over at the Knight, smiling big and triumphant. He runs through the water to you, shouting with you.

“I knew you could do it!” He grabs your waist, congratulating you. You giggle out of achievement. “See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” He asks.

You roll your eyes and playfully punch his arm (which luckily this time was not covered by pain-inflicting chainmail). “A lot easier than having to dodge your hits.” You admit.

“I’m proud of you.”

“It’s just a rock skip?” You wonder why he would be proud of you for that and ask yourself if you really are that pathetic.

“Yes but you put your mind to it and did it! I know some guys in the royal guard who would have given up on their third try, but you didn’t!”

“I was just trying to impress you.” You sheepishly chuckle.

“We’ll consider myself: Impressed.” He laughs and you blush.

“They don’t teach royals that.”

“Well of course not, I learned how to do that from the guy who took me in after my parents died. You picked it up much faster than I did.” He nods and you smile again.

The two of you catch your breath from the exuberant laughing, but you aren’t able to enjoy the still moment because all too quick it all comes crashing down quickly when he’s pushing you into the water. It isn’t very deep, but the unexpected soak makes you yelp out in surprise. Your initial reaction is to be frustrated, but you can hear him chuckling by your side and you can’t help but mischievously smiling in response. He’s standing, still dry with a hand over his stomach as he laughs at you. You roll your eyes before reaching up to pull him in with you, he yelps out stupefied as he’s splashing down into the tide next to you. You laugh out at him, sitting up in the water which is about waist deep. He wipes some water away from his visor and then splashes you, swatting a handful of the ocean at your face. Your laughing immediately halts from a mouthful of salt water. Your slight makeup washes off, and your hair is starting to get wet, too. You look over at him with a frown before copying his action and spraying him right back. He laughs at you, and you remember that you can’t win this. He has a helmet to keep his eyes clear from the water. You groan out of frustration, and wipe your eyes dry. He’s just looking at you, panting. His clothes were soaked now. You crawl to be closer to him in the water, which thank goodness it wasn’t too cold because you’d be rushing to get out, but the summer weather made it enjoyable to just sit there together.

[SMUT BEGINS HERE]

You’re next to him, running your fingers lightly up and down his right arm, looking at him fondly. He catches his breath, and brings his wet hand up to cup your face again. You close your eyes, hoping he takes the hint, which he does because a few seconds have your eyes are closed, his arm his pulling away from your touch against it and his lips are pressing into yours. You can tell he completely took the helmet off this time, which means he would take his time kissing you instead of a quick peck to shut you up.

The two of you sit in the water of the Mandalorian Ocean, both of his hands reaching up to hold you as he kisses each eyelid as if to say “keep ‘em closed”, before moving to your lips passionately. His left hand holding your cheek while his right hand finds its place on the back of your neck, pulling you into him. You breathe deeply as he practically devours you, his lips moving hungrily. Your hands find their way to his thighs in the water, running your palms up and down the strong muscle, making sure to take notice of the healing wound on his upper-thigh. Your hands eventually find their way to the waistband of his pants, running your fingers under them to pull out the tuck of the tunic. Fingernails come out of the water and up soft abs that flinch at the stroke. It’s hard to work around the suspenders, but you’re able to still run your hands over his torso, getting to know his body for the first and hopefully not the last) time. He has a few scars, you can feel the fresh tissue under your fingers and wonder what caused them. He’s still kissing you, his left hand moves down to hold your jaw and you keep your eyes tightly shut out of fear of this ending too quickly. The kissing noises are obscene, wet and needy amongst the sound of the waves. The Knight licks into your mouth, his tongue hot and forceful as it explores your mouth, you can taste the lust on his lips, and you happily welcome the sensation.

His right hand works around the way your gown has flared out in the water and eventually wraps itself around your ass, pulling you up onto his lap. You’re mostly out of the water now, just your shins being completely submerged. You’re slightly weighed down by the added weight of a wet skirt, but you sit comfortably on the guards lap, your hands coming up to wrap around his neck, kissing him from above now. The kiss is forced down, and this time you’re able to lick into his mouth, nibbling his lip and deepening the kiss further from the angle. You can’t help your hands from cupping his face now, pulling him into you.

Your noses rub into one another, and both of his arms lift you up from behind. Your back arches into him, and your breathing hitches, getting heavier and hotter. He starts to get hard, you feel it under your body, and a mixture of the kissing and the pressure beginning to press into your cunt is really starting to turn you on. You start to just softly grind against him, moaning a little bit at the feeling of his growing cock against your heat. His hands help you, making the humping motion more smooth and natural. The kissing becomes sloppy now, and the water from the wet bodice is making your nipples just that much harder.

Your hands are reaching down to slide the suspenders off his shoulders, and then you’re pulling his shirt up and unhooking the trousers. Your hand is reaching in and finding the base of his hardening, thick length. He groans at your touch, and you’re bending down to kiss his neck, sucking deep, purple hickeys into his golden skin. You’re needy, still grinding against him and trying not let the water slow you down. He’s sighing breathy moans and grunts in your ear as you start jerking him off. The water does make it hard, but there’s something about the added sensation of the flowing water that really made it unique. You swipe your thumb over the head a few times, getting drunk with the unexpected control you have. This was the first time the two of you have fooled around that you really got to have total dominance. You liked it… you really liked.

He did too.

Your clit is able to rut so slightly and deliciously into your fist and his cock, and you’re having a hard time not letting your eyes open and flutter in pleasure. The same shocks of ecstasy ran up and down your spine, and he held you closer to his body, using his strong hands to cup your ass and knead the soft skin. You’re panting, your free hand reaches down to rub your clit, both of your hands working in between your legs as you straddle the Knight. You’re going to cum already and can’t believe it’s happening so fast but choose not to hold it back. You’re moaning out loud when you cum against your fingers, graining against his lap fast and squeezing his cock a little harder.

“Fuck, did you just cum?” He asks deep in his voice, growling in your ear. You hum out in response against his neck pathetically, and all dominance you previously possessed dissolves as you keep jerking off your Knight. “Dirty girl, kiss me. Keep those pretty eyes closed.” His throat is dry, which you remember from last time that that means he’s close, too. You reach up to kiss him again, going in tongue first and breathing in his scent deeply. One of his hands reaches around to cup yours that is working his length, holding it and adding pressure and then making you go faster, you happily oblige and soon the pace is quick and he’s grunting against your lips. He cums in your hand, you feel the heat of it. He’s panting and sighing and it’s all so hot you think you could get turned on by it again.

He rests his head on your shoulder after cumming, catching his breath. You take your hand out of the water and you tangle your fingers through his hair, toying with the curls as he sighs against your wet skin. You open your eyes now, looking out at the horizon, lashes heavy with lust.

[SMUT ENDS HERE]

“Gross.” You chuckle.

“You liked it.” He hums against your collar bone. His hands are steadfast on your lower back, holding you there against his chest. He doesn’t have the cold breastplate separating the two of you, so your hearts were pressed against one another, beating in perfect synch. You could also finally feel how warm his body was, despite the wet clothes and gentle waves. In your peripheral, you can see some of the brown curls.

Your heart warms, this might be the happiest you have ever been. The two of you must have sat like that for a long time because your skin was starting to prune and your hair was slowly drying with the wind. His breathing had completely calmed, and he was so still and quiet that just for a moment you wondered if he had fallen asleep. The sun was almost down completely, only a little sliver of it peaking over the water. You watched it as it fell to its resting place in the ocean, the sky still blazing oranges and yellows but cooling with a soft, pale blue from the top down. It was so… serene, so peaceful. Nothing like the crashing waves of Corellia. This was the best part of Mandalore yet. It’s saving grace.

The crescent moon is on the horizon when he’s turning to kiss your ear one more time and asking you to close your eyes as he pulls the helmet back on.

“We should probably get back, I don’t want to be late for Vizsla and I’m afraid I’ve started to lose track of time.” He stands up and holds his hand out for you to take. You attempt to hoist yourself up out of the water, but the wet dress has added so much weight that you can’t lift your legs up. You grunt in effort, but there’s no budging. “Huh, looks like we need to take that thing off.”

“Again?” You look up at him, you knew he had a smug smirk under all that beskar. You reach behind you to undo the corset just enough for you to step out of it, water dripping from your undergarment as he yanks you up and out of the warm water. “I’m starting to think you just really like seeing me naked.” You mutter and don’t realize how close you were to him while saying that until after. You catch your tongue, holding your breath as he looks down at you.

“Yeah, something like that.” He mumbles in response and you believe you could faint and die right then and there. He doesn’t let the moment stew for nearly as long as you would have liked for it, however and he’s pulling the sopping wet dress out of the water and carrying it back on shore. He hands it to you when he gets to his armor, and you try ringing some of the liquid out from the fabric but it’s almost too heavy for you to even hold in your arms. He re-assembles his gear on top of the wet clothes and you know that can’t be comfortable. Sand clings to your bare, wet feet, and you're desperately trying to brush some of it off before slipping your shoes back on. He’s resituated too fast, he has dressing his armor down to a perfection and you’re sad to see your beach adventure come to a close so quickly.

Before you know it, he’s walking up the hill again with you by his side, making your ways to Clove who has been diligently and patiently chewing on the grass in the field this entire time.

“Ride with me.” You ask as he helps you onto the palomino. “Please.” You ask. “We’ll get to the palace faster and then maybe you can get out of those wet clothes before you have to go to the meeting.” You ask. He sighs but then nods with a shrug, hoisting himself onto the horse behind you. You were riding normally now, and situated yourself comfortably into his chest. The wet gown lay on the back of the horse and you wished you had thought about removing that before getting into the water.

As the two of you start a gentle gallop to the palace, you feel your hair get drier. At one moment he reaches his hand up to run bare fingers over your healing bicep.

“We should have kept this out of the water.” He says in your ear. You twist your head back to reply.

“It’s okay, really. It’s starting to feel a lot better.” You reassure.

“It looks better, but the salt water can only do bad things to it.” He explains. You shrug, unsure of how he expects you to respond.

The three of you arrive at the castle just as the sky begins to darken, both of you still damp from the ocean but your hearts still full and bodies still riding the orgasm high. The Knight helps you off the horse, and now that you aren’t alone, you feel very aware that you’re only in your undergarments and really anyone could see you. You pull the wet gown off the rump of Clove, which was so saturated that it made his fur wet. You hold it against your body, trying to cover yourself up as much as possible. The Knight removes the saddle of the horse, storing it away and removing the bit. He stretches the beast’s ears and then walks over to the far side of the stable to grab a carrot out of a bucket before handing it to Clove as a reward for his hard work. You watch him as he expertly takes care of the animal, like he’s done it a thousand times before.

Then, with no warning, the two of you hear the shrill voice of none other than Koska Reeves.

“I shouldn’t have let you go.” She’s crossing over the dirt courtyard to the stables. Her hair has been done now, put up into the customary braids they usually are in. She was now wearing the royal blue color reserved for the Queen’s court, a golden sash sitting on her hips. She held the dress above her feet and she hustled in your direction. You felt scared, you knew Koska meant business, and was not afraid to scold. She was intimidating, to say the least. “You’re soaking wet.” She gasps when she gets to the stable fence. “Come with me, Princess. We must get you changed before anyone sees you or the Queen will have my head.” She sighs, opening the gate for you to walk through. “As for you, Vizsla’s here early.”

“What.” You heard the drop in his voice from panic. “Why?”

“No one knew, he just arrived before we could do any regular welcoming. The evaluation is starting in ten minutes, I suggest you move your ass.” She shakes her head. You were incredibly thankful you had both rode Clove now. He wouldn’t have made it back in time if you hadn’t. You did feel a twinge of guilt, however. You shouldn’t have pushed for that so much and risked him missing his mandatory meeting. But an overwhelming part of you was more than happy that you got to experience those few hours alone with him. He swears under his breath before bowing to you, shrugging apologetically and then full sprinting towards the servant quarter’s entrance. “I would take that from you,” Koska says in reference to the wet dress, “But I’m already in my ceremonial dress. I can’t get it wet. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I can manage.” You nod. The two of you begin to walk back inside, and the night time breeze runs over your wet body, making you shudder ever-so-slightly. When you get back inside, the Knight is nowhere to be seen, and there’s only a fraction of the people as there were earlier. The masks had all been moved somewhere, which let you know they finished them. A mother sat on a chair by the fireplace, nursing a small baby and three young boys who couldn’t be any older than seventeen all sat around one table playing some type of card game and eating buttered bread. They were the stable boys. The three of them stared at you when you walked in, in awe of your unparalleled beauty and the fact that you were carrying a massive, heavy, wet dress.

Koska led you down a hall adjacent to the fireplace. You could see into a few sleeping quarters. The little ones were dozing off, and in one room was a couple laughing together. The small community that existed underneath the palace was something you deeply admired. You wouldn’t have had any idea any of this was here if you hadn’t pushed for today’s events, and you truly loved it. You loved how all these people found refuge and a home here.

You wished you could, too.

Koska stops at one door, taking the wet dress out of your hands and tossing it into the room before closing the wooden door shut and progressing back down the hallway. She eventually opens up a door to a small room with a single bed and large chest.

“Is this your room?” You ask, looking around and familiarizing yourself with it. A single embroidery hoop with a half-done pattern sat on the bed, on the windowsill was a melting candle whose wax had dried in a cascading pattern on the ancient stone, and at the foot of the bed was a small table with a wash basin and hairpins.

“No, It’s my sister’s. My room is closer to the Queen’s.” She nods. You had no clue Koska had a sister. She opens up the chest and pulls out a dry under-slip and simple but pretty purple dress. It wasn’t a ballgown and had long, bell sleeves in a similar fashion to Koska’s. There was some moon and star embroidery on the bodice.

“I didn’t know you had a sister.” You said, starting to shiver a little now.

“Her name is Alva, she works in the kitchen.” She nods as she crosses over to the table, opening up a little box to pull out a horse-hair comb.

“Will she mind us using her things?”

“Well, you’re the Princess, so I hope not.” She shrugs and crosses over the room again like a madwoman, pulling a wool blanket from the chest. “Here, strip and dry off.” You look at her, confused. “Alright… I’ll turn around then.” Koska rolls her eyes and turns to face the wall. You peel off the wet slip, and use the wool material to wipe your body dry. It wasn’t nearly as soft and luxurious as the cotton robes you have five floors up, but it will do for now. You have sand everywhere, and you mean everywhere. You brush it off as best you can, hoping it doesn’t make too much of a mess for anyone to have to clean. You then pull on the dry clothes, and clear your throat when you’re done and decent.

Koska turns around and smiles. “Sit, I’ll brush your hair for you and then escort you back upstairs to see your parents.”

You had completely forgotten that they would be arriving tonight. You get a twinge of adrenaline. You’ve been so homesick, and it will be nice to see some familiar faces after such an emotional two weeks. You sit at the stool in front of the table, and Koska carefully combs out your knotted but drying hair.

“So… It looks like you two had fun.” She says. You smile and blush.

“Yes, we did.” You chuckle.

“That’s good, it’s been so long since he’s had fun. He deserves it.” She hums in response and you immediately question how they know one another so well again.

“How do you know each other?” You ask, knowing there's no harm in that.

Koska sighs, “We… used to work together in a sense. He’s a good man, an even better father.” She shrugs. So that’s four people you can think of who know about his son, You, Koska, Peli and the woman from Isla’s bar… although that situation seemed different, magical almost.

“You two never…” You trail off, not really wanting to hear the answer but not stopping yourself before you ask it anyways.

Koska laughs out loud this time, stopping the combing motion, “Oh stars, no. Never. I have someone else… and he has you.”

Your heart warms at that phrase. “Who is this ‘someone else’ you speak of?” You ask, enjoying the casual girl talk the two of you are sharing.

She hums again, “You’ve met her, she’s shorter than me and far more serious, she has a fire burning, but she’s special to me.” You can hear the smile in Koska’s tone.

You wonder who she’s talking about.

—

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cdroloisms · 3 years ago

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this is checkmate.

aka: dr3 tries their hand at the strategist c!dream interpretation. do they succeed? who knows. please be nice i dont have a single idea how chess works ;-;

tws: blood, violence mentions, implied torture, abuse, unhealthy mindsets, mentioned manipulation, dehumanization, suicide, exile arc, prison arc, c!dream critical ? (not really? but he’s like. kinda absolutely an asshole a la strategist!dream (or any c!dream)), dark content, dark imagery

this is checkmate.

he is not gentle. he is not kind. even when he donned the wool of a sheep's skin, he knows that his teeth flashed wicked and sharp from beneath its corpse - he is no fool, and when he pours poison into his words he knows the taste better than anyone else that may hear it.

to say he meant well is a lie. to say that he was kind is a worse one. and he will not pretend to tell the truth, either, not when he has built this façade brick by careful brick (the same hands that had laid down the stones of a house they laced with trinitrotoluene to destroy)- he is not far gone enough to pretend that the red that bleeds from his sword and eyes and mouth is anything other than blood.

it goes like this: a chessboard is an eight by eight grid with sixty-four squares in total, thirty-two black, thirty-two white. there are sixteen pieces on either side. the objective is to checkmate the opposing team - leave its king under attack, and unable to escape.

there is much to say about cruelty. about mercy. when he takes the time to think about it, in hours that blend into seconds or maybe blend into days (it's not like he has a clock that will tell him which) he thinks they look much like the same thing.

was it cruelty or mercy that led to a death trap, blood on blackstone brick, button still stained with the fingerprints of the one that pressed it last? was it cruelty or mercy that led to bows drawn over an oak wood path, half a heart beating to the rhythm of a war's end? was it cruelty or mercy that led to a deal for so-called independence that only shackled them all to a nation that saw too much death in its creation and too much gunpowder in its end? cruelty or mercy, when it was by his hands that it died and brought everything it took with it? was it cruelty or mercy, when he chipped and broke and shattered items and homes and shard by battered shard of a child's trust and love and hope, pulled him by his throat to death's edge and then held him back with the same hand? cruelty or mercy, when he did not let him die?

(he laughs through a mouthful of blood and salt and rotten potatoes, unable to hold himself up and unwilling to try. the pain doesn't dull. he learned that long ago, but it surprises him all the same. he knows the answer to that last question. sometimes, it's better not to.)

chess, more than anything, is a game of strategy.

and he is self-aware, despite it all. he knows that he has no tongue of silver, no heart of gold. there is nothing kind in the curve of the smile on his mask and nothing beautiful in the face it hides underneath - but he has pored over battle plans, knows the art of the fight and the grace of teeth against knuckles and the allure of the scrape of a blade against another just as well as he knows the pulse of his own (still-beating) heart.

charm is not the only way to get what you want.

it does not take fake smiles to lay the foundations of his victory, does not take any softened words to get the information he needs. it takes nothing at all to make them all hate him, because they always would and they always will. it does not sting, because he cannot let it.

he has no part to play but that of the monster he is and he will not pretend that he cannot stop, because he can. he will not act like he is not in control of every step he takes, not when he wears his armor so much he half-thinks it must be stitched to his skin. he does not sleep, because he has no appearances to fake. logstedshire is gone, but there is a prison growing on the horizon and a vault beyond the mountains. his words taste bitter in his own mouth, and it's fine. he no longer needs them to seem sweet.

because - in the end, the point they all forgot and what will always have him moving forward and always leave them wanting - any chessmaster knows that to learn to win, you must first learn to sacrifice.

even a fool knows the necessity of losing a few pawns. a better player may tell you that there is no piece not worth losing, if you know what you're doing.

and dream?

the SMP is a far cry from a chessboard, nowhere near as neat, littered with the scars of fights long past and burdened with history too heavy for it to bear. the sides are not simple, and nothing resembling even. paint it black and white, and it becomes unrecognizable.

still, the principles remain, and dream plays the game that he knows no one else is willing to, takes the mantle of villain left for him and goes where no one else will.

(people are not chess pieces, but play your cards right and they can become something scarily close.)

so he learns the meaning of sacrifice and then teaches them all in turn, says he does not give a fuck because his greatest crime will always be that he gave too many. the ground under logstedshire is littered with caverns from TNT - it's a lesson, though he is not sure for whom. he takes the crown from george's head and looks down the point of a crossbow bolt aimed at his throat by someone that once might have been a brother, wears the hatred that only grows in others' hearts just as he does the armor that he no longer takes off. punz leaves because he told him to and ranboo does not because the server has yet to know. the community house was laid down brick by brick, but its end is nowhere near as quick and nowhere near as kind.

he is no stranger to sentiment. still, with the frayed strings of fate dangling from his hands, threads cut by his own axe one by one, he can fool them all but he will not deceive himself. he can still care. he did care, once.

caring will not get him to his goal.

loyalty will not bring the sparks to burn the bridges that let others pull him back, kindness will not let him take the steps that he needs to move him forwards, attachment will leave him a foot short from the goal he has (lost everything) done everything for and let him fail.

it goes like this: to win a game of chess, you must checkmate your opponent's king. it must be under immediate attack with no means of escape.

so when it all ended and everyone ran through the portal, weapons drawn, to the vault he built?

dream never made himself a way out.

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ultimateissuessimp · 1 year ago

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Lost and Found

Chapter 4 -What's there for him to achieve?

Word count: 2,000

Warnings: descriptions of gore (will be marked with = at the moment it starts and = when it ends), mentioned death of a character, trauma, bad writing

Genre: Angst, fluff, hurt/comfort

Notes: All dividers that I use are made by me (If you see art that I have used, but not credited - please notify me), you might notice that even though it says "featuring Team Free Will" there's not a lot of them there as one would think. In fact they are not even mentioned by their names which was intentional ince the sotry does not focus on them but the reader and Morpheus, they're the ones that matter the most after all.

Y/N woke up rested. He could wholeheartedly say that it was the best sleep he got in a few good years. Yet when he opened his eyes he didn't immeditely notice what, or rather who, he was sleeping on. The moment he noticed was when he tigthened his hold on it and it moved in a rythmic breathing. The hunter shot up into a sitting position, wide eyed with a blush already forming on his cheeks. He looked down to see Morpheus already looking at him with concern written on his face.

-Are you okay? Did you sleep well? - he asked him, trying not to freak the man out even more than he already is.

-Uh, yeah... I slept really good, it's just that uh... How... How did we end up in this... Uh, position? - Y/N a little worried, because he couldn't remember much from yesterday's evening.

All that he remembered was that he was heavily tired and Morpheus helped him fall asleep and that's it. But he knew for damn sure that he was laying on his side of the bed, on his pillow and under his blanket. Yet somehow now he was on Dream's side of the bed, using his shoulder as his pillow and Morpheus's arm around him as some sort of a blanket.

-You move a lot in your sleep. You know that, correct? - Morpheus asked to which he got a nod in return. - I would say that your... Unconscious self missed the feeling of someone else laying close to you, like we did when we were - he couldn't finish his sentence before Y/N interrupted him.

-Please... Please, just don't finish that sentence, Morpheus... I know what you're tryig to say, but I don't know why you're saying what you're saying. You stated yourself that you wanted nothing to do with me no more and I respected it, even though it hurt my heart, soul and brain to do so. But I did and now you're saying all those words as if you were trying to go back to something that is on the other side of a collapsed bridge... - the hunter said, his voice breaking on certain parts of his speech.

He couldn't understand what Morpheus was trying to achieve with bringing the past back. Both of them agreed that what was between them was gone and that they should just forgt and move on. So why now? Why after all this time he decided to just try and create chaos in Y/N's life once more?

-You're not the only one hurting, Y/N... What I said in the past was... Wrong of me, I know it, but both of us were angry, we said things we didn't actually mean... And I wish I could take all of them back, to let you explain instead of attacking you like I did, but I can't. So now I can only hope to at least making you know that I deeply regret every hurtful word that I threw your way - Morpheus said with a solemn look on his face as he got off the bed and walked a few steps towards the hunter that at the same time took those few steps back, creating some space between them.

-I think this is the first time that I hear you apologise... I honestly had no idea you were even able to do so, but... It's a welcomed change nontheless. But you're right... What got said is a past, a one that you cannot change and the thing is... If I got the chance to go back in time and do something different way, I wouldn't. Because no matter how much I have loved you, my back was against a wall and they made me choose. The difference was that I knew that you could withstand it, you're strong... But my niece? She was only a child... I couldn't leave her to die, no matter how much it has hurt me to leave YOU - Y/N said, tears gathering in his eyes.

He couldn't stop the words from coming out of his mouth, it's like his brain wanted him to finally spill what he was feeling for all this time. Yet he quickl came to his senses, shaking his head and wiping away the small tears thtat threathened to spill with the back of his hand.

-Could we just... Go back to researching please? This isn't the best time to have this talk - he added.

-And when will be the right time? After all of this? When you go back to avoiding me at all cost and me acting like you don't exist? When Y/N? - Morpheus proceeded to push, trying to get an answer out of the hunter.

-I don't know! I don't know okay?! Just not... Not now - the H/C haired man sighed, ruffling his bed hair with his hand and then swiftly walking over to the table that still had his laptop ontop.

-Well, this is really awkward... - Matthew, that was still laying on Morpheus's pillow, said and decided to hop off, stretch his wings for a bit. He flew up onto Dream's shoulder. - Boss, do you mind if I went back to the Dreaming? You could just summon me back if I was needed. I... Feel like I would be intruding whatever is going between you and the mister cuddle bear over there - he added and got a glare not only from Morpheus but also Y/N.

He shuddered at their gazes but quickly flew away through an opened window when he got his boss's approval. He was so done with drama for today, but he will definietly gossip with Lucienne about all of what happened. How could he not?

Y/N sat on the chair that was pulled out from the table and opened up the device in front of him. It immediately powered up being previously just closed and not turned off completely, showing up the latest research on the screen. The hunter got back to his work that he abandoned yesterday, reading articles and looking through every information he gets his hands on, he even reads some newspaper that was left my the hotel staff before they got their room. After half an hour he finally found something. A woman came in contact with the Nightmare, but described it as a shapeshifting monster that took the form of her husband that it killed.

She and her neighbor got interviewed by the newspaper's journalist a few hours after the incident. =She said that she only found out that her husband was dead when she went down to the basement to do some laundry and saw his mutilated body.= She screamed and tried to run up the stairs and get out of the basement but got face to face with the being she could only describe as horrific and simply taken out of a horror movie. Her screams were heard by her neighbor which came to her rescue, not noticing anything strange seeing her "husband" in the kitchen just looking out of the window.

He thought of it as weird but quickly opened up the basement door, releasing the woman who was begging and crying about her husband being dead. The confused neighbor tried calming her, saying that her husband was well in the kitchen, but when he looked to the side, the "husband" was gone. The shaken up wife ran to the staionary phone and called 9-1-1. When police came, they found a still crying and shocked woman, sitting on the floor and the neighbor next to her, trying to comfort her as much as he could. She only pointed at basement making the policemen go down the stairs and see the gruesome scene in front of them. One of the policemen vomited at the sight and quickly got away from the body.

They questioned the wife, but didn't get out anything from her that could tell them what happened. They had to wait for a crime scene coroner to tell them the reason of his death, what caused it. The answer that they got was that it wasn't possible that a human has done that, especially not the petite wife. Because of the mental damage that happened to the woman and her saying that something was impersonating her husband, she got sent to a mental institute and the crime never got solved. According to the date on the newspaper it happened a few days ago.

-I got something that we could check... It's worth a shot even if we don't get anything specific, the woman is in a poor state - Y/N said standing up from his seat and closing the laptop. He went over to his clothing bag and took out some clothes, this time going to the bathroom to change. When he got out he walked over to the table again and took the newspaper into his hand. - We should go there and ask her some questions. Maybe she will tell us something that she hasn't said in the interview - he added.

-Very well. Let us get there. What is the name of the institute? - Morpheus asked awaiting an answer so he could deport them to the place. He only got a look and a short answer containing "No, Morpheus, we're going to get there my way". He sighed but nodded.

The two men walked to the door and Y/N opened them taking a step outside, nearly colliding with someone standing in front of him, but he stopped quickly, shifting his gaze from the floor to the face of his blockade seeing the chevrolet driver. His eyes went wide for a second before changing into an annoyed glare. He also noticed the two other man behind the blonde.

He quickly analyzed the men, seeing the hidden gun behind the jeans and a belt of the blonde and an anti-possesion tattoo on the slightly exposed chest of the tallest one. He also felt a weird sensation going through his body as he looked at the black haired man in a trench coat. He was also looking at Y/N with a confused face and a tilted head, a if he was trying to find out what was hiding in the hunter's mind. Y/N felt the proding and realised that the man tried to read his thoughts and he blocked him out right away. His blue eyes widened feeling the rejection from the hunter's mind and look behind him, now looking at Morpheus, feelind the divine power radiating off of him, not even tryng to read his mind, kowing that it could be a mistake.

-Sorry, didn't mean to almost walk into you - Y/N said cautiously taking one step back, his back colliding gently with Dream's chest. He tried making some space for the three men to walk by and they did without a word. H/C haired man scoffed and only got an apologetic look from the brown haired man as they were walking away.

-Did you feel it? - Morpheus asked the hunter, wondering if he also felt the weird static that surrounded the three men. Well, two men and one angel as he deducted.

-Yes. Hunters, monster hunters. The third one is something else though... He tried to read my mind, but I didn't let him. What could he be... An angel maybe? But why whould hunters willingly walk around with an angel beside them? - He pondered on the question. - You know what? I bet they are also looking for our lost Nightmare... That means that right now they could be going to that woman from the newspaper. We have to be there before them... Eh you... You could deport us there... I admit that it will be faster... - Y/N added. With that Morpheus reached for his pouch of sand, took some out and spread it around them, closing them inside a sand cyclone. And just like that, they were gone.

#morpheus x male reader #morpheus x you #dream of the endless x male reader #lord morpheus #dream of the endless #the sandman x male reader #the sandman #supernatural #spn #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel novak #gay #lgbt #mlm #boy love

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etheriadearie · 4 years ago

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What if it's Adora's... and Catra's- Dream?

::It's been eight months since The Kiss and Catradora becoming canon in one of the most breathtakingly romantic and beautiful endings of all time. Now that we've all throughly gotten to enjoy that, I'd like to take some time to explore how Adora's dream might tie into everything having to do with its ending, as well as the entire romantic arc of SPOP.

This post centers on Adora's dream, with the goal of exploring the dream as a part of the Catradora romance. Really, truely, as part of their romance. Pardon my vagueness, because it is out of kindness: if you haven't finished the series, THIS IS A SPOILER WARNING. 🚨🚨🚨 ... If you don't like spoilers, now is the time to scroll on by, Horde soldier // Rebellion fighter!! (and please, return when you do- <3)

If you have finished the show, please consider joining me below, as i'd love to hear your opinion on the following theory...

💜💙💚💛🧡❤️💜💙💚💛🧡❤️💜💙❤️🧡❤️💜💙💚💛🧡❤️💜💙💚💛🧡❤️💜💙❤️

Hey Adora ~❤️

Are you still with me?

Good, then let's get this started-

It is highly probable that Adora’s 'dream' is a canon romantic moment for each of them, which not only Adora experiences, but so does Catra.

The dream is, instead, a spontaneous reaction of Etheria’s deep magic and their love, in particular because Catra is with Adora as she tries to save Adora through her love for her. They both share in the creating of the dream, but it's meaning is that of Catra showing her love to Adora: they are connected within the dream by way of this Etherian magic, which they have shared in before.

I say this because what we’re actually seeing is a simulation, much like the ones that Catra and Adora shared together during Promise: these simulations are based on memories and on emotions: it is Catra’s emotions which are being channeled as Etheria creates the dream for them.

We will indeed discuss the arc of their love in this post, but, this theory is based on the use of a oft neglected, but powerful, mode of storytelling:: Known as ‘visual cues’ this method of storytelling is employed by Noelle and Friends as the way to tell us the deeper meanings behind the dream sequence. And the use of these cues tells us that this is intended to be seen as a shared romantic moment for both girls, showing their love for one another.

I know, this might seem like a lot to process, after all, isn't what we see during the dream supposedly Adora’s subconscious response to Mara’s words of wisdom about love, when she asked Adora what she wants, and tells her to not give up?

And how would it even be possible for Catra to be in the simulation with Adora? To the former, Adora still had no answer to Mara’s question, like she didn't when Catra asked her what she wanted the night before. And in the dream, we watch as Adora spends almost all of it denying what she's seeing, believing she has failed her duty to save everyone as She-ra. Considering Adora’s resistance to the dream, does it make sense for the dream to be self actualized by Adora, or is what she sees originating from somewhere else, and if so, how?

As to whether Catra can be there with Adora, the answer is a resounding yes: and that's because we already know that Catra is in the dream with Adora, for part of the time. How we know this is that after Horde Prime traps Adora, Catra intervenes to save Adora and they interact: Catra reaches down to try and save Adora, ending famously with her beautiful love confession, which helps Adora find the strength to reach out to take her hand.

That we see Catra do this, and that she does it so purposefully, tells us that this is something that actually happens between the two of them:: Catra must have seen Horde Prime trap Adora, and Adora can see and hear Catra in her mind as she calls for her- Adora really does reach up to take Catra’s hand, and as she takes it, is pulled from the edge of death. It's not a metaphor at all, even though we know Catra is holding Adora's body in the real.

And so, if Catra was with Adora then, why not before, too?

To put it simply, all of the visions that Adora has, including her meeting Mara before the dream, is Etheria’s deep magic trying to help her, and so it helps to bridge the gap that's needed for Catra to share her love with Adora. After all, Etheria "is a living creature" (s5ep8) and Catra, actually, has a strong connection to Etheria’s magic, and to magic in general (we will revisit this later).

All that happens is tied together, which we'll talk about below: what Adora sees in the dream is the true beginning of Catra’s love confession, because Catra is coming through for Adora as her best self to save her, much like Adora did for Catra during Save the Cat.

::And that's where our visual cues come in, because as it turns out, the Dream and Save the Cat are related: they are related in storytelling and in emotion, but most importantly:: they are related visually.

This post will cover these similarities starting below. We’ll also take a look at two separate and distinct visual cues having to do with how Catra acts in the Dream to further the discussion, and lastly we'll cover how, in fact, all of Save the Cat and Heart Part 2 are related, starting well before the dream, continuing right through it, and afterwards as well.

But, to get this started, let's take a look at visual cue #1: when Catra offers her hand to Adora in her dream.

::During the dream, Adora has such disbelief when she finds herself in it, and she keeps this disbelief right up until the critical moment: when Catra turns to her and offers her hand to Adora, lovingly asking her if she's ready to go. That, is the moment when we finally see Adora give herself over to the idea of their love, she suspends her disbelief… only to have the moment so cruelly ripped away by Horde Prime...

As it so turns out, this sequence of events has happened before, almost exactly down to the frame by frame:: it happened during Save the Cat, when Adora offered her hand to Catra. These moments are visually similar, emotionally parallel, and story parallel as well. Here are the two scenes, and while you look at them, consider how the girls are arranged compositionally with each other:

What we have here is visual parallels, many more of which we'll discuss later. But, it goes deeper than that:: because on closer consideration, we see that the girls are arranged ‘mirror’ to each other. For example:

::In Save the Cat, Adora offers her hand to Catra from the left, and in the dream Catra offers her hand to Adora from the right-

::When Prime electrocutes Catra after she reaches for Adora’s hand, she falls downward on the right; when Adora is trapped by Prime, she sinks downward on the left, with her tears showing the direction of her descent (note, Catra’s tears were not depicted, but she is crying as Prime shocks her). This mirroring is shown repeatedly throughout the two episodes, and not just during the dream itself.

So why are these moments mirrored?

That's what this theory aims to prove, with all the muster that it can:: this mirroring is a purposeful artistic collaboration between the art and writing teams, letting us know by way of it, that we're suppose to understand how these scenes are parallel: with the meaning of this being that one girl is mirroring the other’s actions in order to save them.

Therefore, in theory:: what we're seeing during the dream is Catra mirroring the heroic love Adora shows for Catra during Save the Cat, and all of what we see in the dream is actually Catra showing her true love, is the true beginning of her love confession, and is done to save Adora. As for the other deeper, more involved reason, it is that Adora and Catra are actually parallel characters throughout the series, who vary by circumstance, but are struggling with much the same issues. (a discussion for another time, however)

For instance:: consider how similar the virus that Adora is fighting during her time in the Heart chamber is to the mind control that Catra fought in Save the Cat:: Prime is using the virus to control Adora, and she ultimately is able to reject Prime's control because of Catra’s actions- much like Catra did, after Adora showed up in Save the Cat to restore their love, telling Catra to fight Prime’s control, so that they can be home together again.

And here's the thing: if the artists and writers go to such lengths to make these scenes parallel… even moreso, the characters are mirrored, doesn't the meaning of it therefore demand that Catra be with Adora during her dream, to help her fight free of Prime’s control by showing her love to Adora, just like Adora did for Catra during Save the Cat?

Now really, what confirms this theory is the entire arc of the show, which, *puffs up cheeks* is a bit too much to cover here, so I'll save us some time and stick to a couple of themes instead. One of these will be the Catradora love arc, as it is integral to the next visual cues.

And these cues are that Catra’s truest love is shown during Adora’s dream, something which we don't see Catra do before this moment. So, sit tight for a bit, because this'll take some explaining-

Visual cues #2 and #3: Catra’s most earnest love is shown in the dream, and it's both what Adora needs to survive, and is fundamental to Catra’s redemption-

Redemption arcs are popular for a reason, and because the next cues relate so strongly to Catra's redemption, I'll be talking about how Catra’s redemption is fully realized by the honest and earnest love she shows for Adora, inside the dream as well as right before it.

In order for Catra to complete her redemption, or since that's cliche, ::for Catra to realize her best self:: she has to accept her truth as the absolute total romantic that she is, who through the braveness of her confession of love, is the one who helps their dreams come true, and brings Catradora into canon.

This is because, in all seriousness, Catra is and always has been a romantic, she's just blocked by her own traumatic experiences (plz consult Princess Prom if confused about how Catra is a romantic, 😼😹). And, she's always known she was in love with Adora- who, unlike Catra, never quite realizes her full feelings until Catra’s confession. And Catra needs to redeem herself by showing this love, because she chose to deny her love to Adora, as well as to herself, at the end of Promise after seeing how very little love and understanding Adora had to give to her in season 1. This next set of visual cues is all about how we see Catra’s feelings and actions change to reflect her true feelings of love, and that through accepting her own love for Adora, is able to help Adora to succeed in her final task.

::As Adora faces down her final challenge of disabling the Heart, Catra makes what could best be described as a decision of ‘radical love’: that she's willing to give everything she has- to help, love, and support Adora. We first see Catra’s decision to show such love right before the dream when she swears to stay by Adora’s side, and she then fully completes this love during the dream when we see Catra show her precious love for Adora.

In the dream, the Catra we see is much more tender, vulnerable, and intimate, than we’ve ever seen her be at any other time previous to this point in the series… her love is even more earnest than during their earliest memories as children. That's because we’re seeing a completely novel and honest expression of Catra's love, one which Catra hasn't been willing to show before this. Catra really needs to show her full feelings to redeem herself, not just a last second love confession. What we're seeing during the dream is her truest feelings, without her own self doubt or fears of vulnerability blocking her.

And this new love we see is part of the decision which Catra makes, right before the dream, swearing that she will stay with Adora no matter what, letting Adora know she has her full love and support as Adora faces her final task. This decision is the other half of the visual cue #2, and here’s the two moments together::

Is Catra ending up positioned so similarly just coincidence, or does it have deeper meaning as well? A couple things for consideration:

Firstly: Adora probably doesn't notice this shift in Catra’s behavior, especially before the dream, as Adora is completely focused on her burden of saving-the-entire-universe-along-with-every-last-person-in-it, which is rather a lot to expect one girl to do... even if she is She-ra. Also note: Adora is a romantically oblivious person, so there's that, too. And since she's so preoccupied by mortal peril, it really doesn't make sense for the sweet and loving Catra we see in the dream to originate from Adora’s subconscious, as Catra has never shown Adora this tender, loving version of herself: and so, it makes more sense that the magic of the simulation would be drawing from somewhere else entirely: it draws on Catra’s own feelings of love.

I know, these scenes vary in mood significantly, but the difference we're seeing in the dream is actually a heightened version of the love Catra shows before it, one where Catra is not only showing Adora that she values and supports her, but that Catra quite literally feels precious love for Adora. Catra clings to her, letting her know that she is treasured above all else, which is really, really REALLY sweet, and also really really not in line with how Catra has acted up to this point in the series...

Catra loves Adora, this is central to her arc, even during the times when she's aligned so strongly against her. Her story is about learning to accept her love, and she's reestablishing her love for Adora during these scenes... this is the total truth of her love and affection, that is.

She’s already established that she's willing to risk herself to protect Adora, such as when she tackles Melog on Krytis. But, Catra protecting Adora from harm physically isn't enough to fully redeem herself: she's also got to show the romantic love she feels which she denied to Adora so long ago. This love she feels is something that Adora continuously teases Catra over, constantly ruining the moment by misinterpreting Catra’s feelings simply as attraction, never fully realizing or acting on the romantic implications. This happened as recently as when Catra jumped into the fire to save Adora... Adora is a romantic idiot. (don't you worry, I say this with fondness) This is part of Catra's test: even though Adora never gives her a sign that she feels romantic love as well, Catra has to show her love because that's what it has always been about for her. Loving Adora properly means Catra has to accept Adora as she is, and not let her own romantic frustration block her. It's also simply the right thing to do, as they are out of time, and could all die if Adora fails... Adora's story, on the other hand, has been about becoming the hero, and Catra has to accept that yes, in total reality, Adora simply has never considered what she wants because of her burdens.

As Adora faces her final task and is feeling crushed by the weight of her burdens and fears of failure, Catra has to show this love to counter Adora’s own obliviousness and internalized emotional barriers, as Catra realizes how Adora really doesn't "get it" right up until Catra’s love confession. Adora is not seeing what she has to live for, and Catra's fully accepting Adora as who she is helps Catra to see how she can help Adora, because Adora's romantic awkwardness is really more about her emotional trauma than her love for Catra- Adora loves Catra, that much is clear. But is it romantic love? Catra takes a risk and shows her true feelings, because she knows Adora is struggling, and they are out of time... so no matter what, Catra has to show her romantic love to Adora, and luckily she's able to do so during the dream (because of the help of Etheria's magic).

We also need to talk about how Catra stands with Adora: in both moments she chooses to stand behind Adora. Catra is showing her true support to Adora, and her most honest feelings of love- something I discussed in my Promise discussion is how Catra never wanted power for herself, she just wanted to be safe, and to be with Adora. Here we have Catra, definitively showing after all this time that she doesn't want power, she just wants to love Adora.

The Catra we see in seasons 1-4 rejected Adora as She-ra, seeing her as two faced for ignoring and then abandoning her to continued abuse while fighting for others, breaking her final promise as she did. This was a trauma decision, but Catra is done letting trauma control her life. So here we see Catra choose to support and love Adora no matter what, like she always wanted to do, and she's even choosing to support Adora as the hero. This is further demonstrated as true during the dream, as Catra (albeit jokingly) asks Adora to save her from a determined Glimmer.

All in all, the Catra we see in the dream is very unlike anything we’ve seen before, she's outwardly in love, feelings which Adora herself feels but struggles to understand. And that Catra ends up positioned so similarity is a cue that Catra is allowing her true love to be shown during the dream. It's exactly what Adora needs to feel coming from Catra, as years of being abused and new hardships have convinced Adora that sacrifice is the only thing that makes her worthy of love- Mara tells her “You're worth more than what you can give to other people, you deserve love, too”. Sadly, when you watch this scene you see that Adora has a hard time accepting Mara's words, she shys away from them instead.

Catra’s choosing to stay with Adora, and then show her most earnest love inside the dream, helps Adora to see how she deserves to be loved: as the person she is, and not only as a hero. Catra is the only person who loved Adora before she was She-ra, and her love for her has never been about her being a hero, like Adora was told she had to be by Shadow Weaver.

That was something done out of malicious intent, as Shadow Weaver did it to control Adora and to prepare her as her sacrifice. Young Catra was there when it happened to Adora, and always knew that it was done out of some dark intent (hence her frustration during the battle of Thaymore- “Duhhh did yah just figure that out??”). Catra constantly shows that she is wise to manipulations.

... And Adora is still stuck on this trauma: the love that Catra shows Adora helps her see past her own hurt.

::Ok. I say this next part with all the sincerity I can: expecting Catra to carry the entire burden of their romance all on her own is rather a lot to expect her to be able to do. And yet… she does it. She's the one who confesses her love, she's the one who kisses Adora, and in the dream, she shows Adora that she's in love with her. This is because Catra is a person who understands what she wants. She chooses to have faith that their love is real, and so she shows her heart to Adora. How does Catra trust enough in love, considering her past mistakes, and all trauma that she's been through?

People mostly think that Catra post season 5 would be a person who is still in a state of hurting from her past, that she constantly struggles with self hatred and doubts. But, ask yourself: is that how Catra is portrayed, or do we see a person who has faced her trauma so that she can live free of it?

That Catra would be able to do this so totally is what I think throws so many people about Catra. After all, most people who have trauma struggle with it continuously, so why wouldn't Catra struggle like this too… people have a hard time accepting that she is able to change her behavior so much for the better. But, don't let that stop you from seeing her as she is presented to be, there's powerful reasons why Catra is like she is, Noelle wouldn't take a shortcut in this. The reasons are there... it's just… complicated.

Probably too complicated to cover here, but I'll try to summarize a theme here: Catra is a survivor. That's what her attitude is, and her arc. She's survived ever since that day when Shadow Weaver threatened to kill her as only a small child, and she’s survived many other near deaths and hardships getting to this point. And because of that, she's found what she really wants to live for, and she's become too strong against others hurting her to let them control her. This strength includes against her own bias of self judgement over her past actions, because she understands how her actions were the product of manipulative abuses by others who wanted to control her. She knows trauma, in fact she's somewhat blessed in this ability (see this meta). What Catra does during the dream and her love confession is to reject ALL of the trauma, the falseness, the negativity, and hurt that's been put into both her AND Adora all of their lives. She's way too strong to let her own fears block her, and as she sees Adora struggling with her own fears, Catra gives her full heart to Adora because Catra knows how important it is to want to live and to love, and if she can just get Adora to understand that too, then she can save her.

... because Catra is brave, perhaps the bravest person in all of SPOP, she comes through to save Adora from Adora's own fears by showing her the power of love. Catra sees Adora for who she is better than anyone else can: she sees her humanity, and her struggles. And seeing is very important to our next cue::

Cue #3 ‘I’m YOUR idiot’

During Save the Cat, as Adora watches Catra teetering on the edge of the platform, she implores Catra to keep on fighting. She tells her: “you've never listened to anyone in your life, are you really going to start now?”

Catra responds by very fondly calling her an idiot.

And Adora freely accepts this, saying:

“I know.”

Then we get this frame, as shown above: Adora sees Catra, and how she's always tried to find safety from those that would hurt her by not letting them control her life.

Catra only ever listened to one person: she listened to Adora, and their promise... hence the ‘idiot’ part. And Adora is saying, as she accepts being called an idiot, that ‘I should have seen it sooner, and why my love was so important. You always felt like you had to fight to survive, and I was suppose to be different than those who hurt you. I was wrong not to understand sooner, and I shouldn't have hurt you like I did.'

And she proves it to Catra with her next words: “I'm going to take you home.”

Home. The thing Catra felt she had lost when Adora abandoned her at the Horde. Adora is saying: ‘I know this is what you want.’

‘So, live.’

::In the second frame, we see Catra show absolute acceptance of her love for Adora. It's just like Adora accepting being Catra’s idiot: Catra is telling Adora: 'Don't you see how I love you? You tease me, but this is not because I like you, it's because I'm crazy about you. I'm in love with you. And I want you to see this, my silly, beautiful love. Because I want you to know how I love you. I should have seen why my love was so important sooner, and I never should have left you."

‘I do freely admit that I am your idiot.’

‘And I know you. I know that this is what you really want. And that it hurts you that you were made the hero, and how everyone expects so much of you, but they never seem to see how much it hurts you.’

‘And I know that what you want is to be loved.’

‘I see you. I know you.’

‘So... live.”

It's exactly what Adora needs to see to accept love, and not let her trauma stop her. This is part of what helps Adora overcome Prime’s virus so she can absorb the Heart's power: she needed to see that she's loved. Much like Catra did, back on Prime’s ship.

Sidebar discussion 1: thoughts regarding this theory-

How exactly does the dream come to be, how does Catra experience its creation, all of these finer points we kinda hafta leave to the 'magic' that happens. We can't know exactly how it happened, but maybe we don't need to.

As to why didn't they didn't just tell us, *if* this theory is true, that is- probably because She-ra's ending is beautiful, it's hard to imagine it being any more beautiful than it already is. It's worth watching again and again: not having everything spelled out for us just makes us want to watch it more. -etheriadearie

Part 4: How everything is mirrored starting well before the dream, as well as after🪞♾🪞

All of Heart Part 2 is a mirror of Save the Cat, starting from the very beginning. And, if you look carefully you can see stylistic elements repeated throughout each (mirroring, compositional arrangements, use of green in both to represent Prime’s corruption, etc.) They are different enough that each is worthy of being called an artistic masterpiece of its own, but everything in them is related, and what happens as Catra saves Adora is very much the story of Save the Cat being retold.

Catra’s decision to return to help Adora inside the Heart chamber is synonymous with Adora’s decision to face Horde Prime on his flagship. Neither have a plan worth mentioning, both know they could fail, but they have to try, no matter what. They love each other too much not to try.

… and the other is totally dismayed when they show up to save them, knowing how perilous their situations are, as they had resigned themselves to their fates.

Oh, hey Shadow Weaver. Looks like you slipped in to be a stand in for Horde Prime ? Could this be because you were the real villain of SPOP all along ?

Even though the one is so unhappy that the other is risking themselves like they are, each girl continues to fight to free the other. They need the other to see how much they care.

Above: Adora makes a similar declaration of love to Catra's in cue #2, more mirroring 🪞

Sidebar discussion 2: Catra’s strong connection to magic-

A subplot of She-ra is how Catra unlearns her negative perception of magic she has from it being used against her as a child by Shadow Weaver, and instead comes to see magic as something beautiful. Even though Catra professes a strong dislike of it “why does everything have to be so weird with you guys ?” (s5ep8), magic constantly seeks her out.

It starts during Promise, when Catra’s subconscious seemingly guides the memories they see, ending with her seeing her inner child's hurt. It continues in the Portal episodes when she's given up hope, and after trying to destroy herself, instead returns as Corrupted Catra, a magical being with knowledge and purpose. Then, in season 5, Melog chooses Catra, she nervously accepts their friendship and is surprised to finds them to be very good friend to her.

And so, during the dream, as Catra and Adora lie mere feet from the center of Etheria’s magic, it reaches out to help them- it is a living thing, and Catra welcomes its help, proving she has incredible harmony with magic, and by allowing herself to work with it during the dream, she completes her journey of unlearning her bias- because the truth of Etheria’s magic is love.

Like Adora's jumping off the platform after Catra falls, Catra refuses to give up, and finds a way to get to Adora~

Sidebar discussion 3: Horde Prime’s virus

Another bridge between our girls is that when the monster attacks Catra, she's infected by Prime’s virus along with Adora. This is another route by which their minds can be connected (see Catra’s right hand, above) which begs the question: is everything that Adora sees in the dream just an elaborate cruelty of Horde Prime's?

I'm going with no, because of the visions which Adora has before the dream. Most of them happen well before the infection reaches Adora’s location, and their meanings don't really make sense as part of Prime’s deceit. He also says “So this is where you've run to hide" when he interrupts Adora's conversation with Mara.

It makes more sense that it is as Razz says: "You cannot control magic, magic simply is" and the magic is communicating with Adora and with Catra. It is rather, that Catra manages to use Prime's virus against him, as she's faced his control before. Her personal knowledge of his technology likely means Catra knows to help Adora overcome his control, and this along with her confession, helps Adora to break free of his control.

As Adora struggles with her final duty as She-ra to stop the heart, feeling alone in the face of it because she alone is She-ra, the only one who supposedly can do it, she's feeling crushed by the weight of a millennia old war and other's past cruelties forced onto her life. She believes it's too much for her to do alone, and that she's not a good enough hero.

Catra’s ultimate answer to Adora is: 'Don't be.’

Catra is telling Adora to stop being the hero just long enough to realize what she already has, because she's not alone. She needs help, but it's right there with her- she doesnt have to do it alone, no one should.

And so, by asking her to stay, Catra is telling Adora: 'Forget about being She-ra, and right now instead just focus on wanting to live... because if you don't live, then I can't help you. I know, this is hard. But if you can just accept that you want to be with me, then we can figure this out, together.'

And that's exactly what they do- they face the heart together.

Adora accepts love, and so Catra is able to help her absorb the Hearts power.... because love is the strongest thing in the entire universe... 💞

A few closing thoughts regarding this theory: We don't have a lot of time with the romance between Catra and Adora, as their kiss is the apex moment. But, by way of these cues perhaps us seeing them in the dream at their most romantic is real. When Adora wakes up, she doesn't even have to say anything about what she saw- Catra was there, helping her. One of the reasons why the kiss and Adora's confession of love back to Catra seems so pure is because she's understanding Catra perfectly. In fact they both are, because of the dream they shared together.

Considering how short She-ra is, for them to actually share this romantic moment together would be is key. And I feel it makes sense that they do, as such a beautiful moment deserves to live on in their (our) memories... and a way by which they could share this moment may very well exist, *if* this theory is correct.

Noelle and Friends may have cleverly given us this answer, and as beloved as the dream scene is, I'd like to think that they're together during it. Either way, She-ra's ending is beautiful.

As always, thanks for reading... I hope that you enjoyed it. Hopefully it's not just stating the obvious ? Feel free to let me know- 😅 And I couldn't get to all of the endings complexities here (for instance, Adora's confusion on love and needing someone like Catra to show her the way is very interesting, and worth exploring), and, believe me I, too, have questions. Feel free to ask questions or give me feedback, as always I will try to respond!! Also, I will be posting something related to this regarding their arcs in the near future~ hopefully. Until then...

"Don't you get it ? I love you. I always have. So please, just this once. Stay!" 🏳️‍🌈💞💋🏳️‍🌈

~EtheriaDearie

::As always, thanks for a like or reblogg!! I'm still new to tumblr, so thank you for reading- ❤️🙇

P.S. Here's the short version of this post. Yes, the "cliff notes" 😅. For a quick share with your friends!!

#she ra #spop #catradora #she ra meta #she ra and the princesses of power #Catradora dream theory #my writing #she ra fan theory #she ra spoilers

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4aloysius-porteu · 4 years ago

Text

i am your ally || tsukishima kei.

pairing; tsukishima kei x f! reader

genre: oneshot, drama, flangst, a little comedy

word count: 5.6k

details: 3rd year Tsukishima, artist reader

warnings: reader going missing, verbal abuse, crushing of dreams, lots of sadness, heavy parental argument, everything that happens here hits home

synopsis: tsukishima didnt know what is the right thing to say after he heard of (y/n)’s situation, but the words that stumbled out from his mouth were a surprise, yet it blossomed to a meaningful talk that happens once in a blue moon.

(a/n): wrote in the middle of my depressing days to find a little comfort from this character that I love with all my heart. inspired by true situations irl; if you, my friend, is feeling down today, i hope reading this work of mine can help. i might make this into a full story if this got enough attention tho.

(Y/N) was nowhere to be found.

It wasn't Tsukishima's habit to eavesdrop on other people's conversation, but he couldn't help but listen when he heard her name from her classmates. She was a consistent top student that will never neglect her studies, so it was unusual to know that she was absent today. He thought that maybe she got sick or she decided to go crazy and skip school. If it was the latter, he hoped that she knows what she's doing, because midterms are coming in 3 days, and he's not going to listen to her whines and begs to help her study for the tests.

And now he just happened to overhear that she was missing.

He saw her parents walk out of the campus after talking to the vice-principal and to the teachers. Gossip filled the corridors and rooms. Tsukishima went back to his room, clearly annoyed with the unnecessary noise.

He listened to the lectures of each subject and continued to write down important points, but the thought of (Y/N) lingered in his head. What could've happened that led to her disappearance? Was she kidnapped? No, he just walked her home last night and she'll never leave her place past midnight. Kidnappers won't dare to make a move in daylight because of the town's high authority visibility. There's no way she'll be lost in an area she's very familiar with.

She ran away from home. That is the only logical possibility he could come up with, but he couldn't think of an idea as to why. (Y/N), who loves to be cooped up in her room with music blaring in her earphones while drawing, left her home without a trace. Tsukishima was a little worried, but he won't let his face show whatever the hell he's feeling.

His plays and blocks aren't exactly bad, but Yamaguchi could sense that Tsukishima was thinking of something other than the volleyball practice. He approached his friend who was resting on the floor, his long arms covering his curled up legs.

"Tsukki, what's with that expression? Did you get a failing score in a quiz?" Yamaguchi started, in an attempt to lighten up the atmosphere.

The blonde's eyes darted to him, "Like hell, I'm going to let that happen. What do you want?"

He shrugged, "Nothing, I just noticed that you were a little quieter and more passive today. Normally, you would've chewed the first years out with their simple blocking errors, but you didn't say a thing. You're scarier in their eyes when you're silent."

"I was tired. I'll only waste my voice pointing out something I did a million times." A sigh escaped his lips

"Right..." Yamaguchi paused, "So, I assume you have heard?"

"Heard of what?"

"That (Y/N) is missing."

"Oh," A frown fell on his features. It wasn't his usual frown. People who really know him would notice that his eyes are full of worry.

He sat beside Tsukishima before he spoke again. "I know you have ideas on places (Y/N) could've gone to."

"I do not know what you're talking about."

The latter chuckled, "Oh, humor me, Tsukki. If you're that worried, I can excuse you for today's practice. No problem."

"Does that mean that you aren't concerned?"

"I am concerned. I want to look for her as well, but I have to whip the other players into shape. I'm sorry if I couldn't accompany you right away."

Tsukishima stood up and sighed again, "You will excuse me, you said?"

"Yeah."

There were silence and the background noise of balls and shoes colliding on the floor. He wiped the sweat off his face before replying, "I'll be leaving the gym in a few minutes."

He changed his clothes and packed his things up, causing the team to exchange glances.

"Tsukki!" Yamaguchi called, throwing his friend's large jacket to him, which the other caught. "Take care! I hope you find (Y/N) and get her home safe."

"I wish. Then, I'll leave it to you, Captain."

The green-haired middle blocker's eyes teared up and sparkled as he beamed a smile back, "I got it!"

Tsukishima started to look for (Y/N) at the places she liked to go to; the art store, the Central Park, the kid's playground, the museum, and the prefectural library. But there was no sign of her anywhere. He looked at the nearby places to no avail. He walked on while dialing her number, but her phone is out of coverage area. He spent 3 more hours finding the girl and soon received a message from Yamaguchi, telling him that (Y/N) hasn't been found yet and that he joined the authorities to help them find her.

He walked back to the direction of his home, panting softly. He had failed to find (Y/N), yet his brain won't stop thinking about her possible whereabouts. The cool breeze of winter hit Tsukishima's face and shivered at the contact. He had hoped again that she is inside of an establishment, safe from such cold weather.

Tsukishima's home has its lights out. Her mother was invited into her colleagues' reunion as said in her text, and both his father and brother are busy at work. He reached for his key in his pocket and was opening the door, not until he heard a loud sob from somewhere. Tsukishima looked around the place as the sobbing continued. He searched for the source and ended up in their backyard. He caught the sight of a small figure behind the bushes and went closer to confirm.

It was a cat. It had scurried away once he got close to it. Oh, how stupid he is to get his hopes up only to find a scared animal. But he was certain he heard a sob somewhere near. And cats aren't capable of making a sound like that. Or maybe he was only hearing things?

He dragged his feet to the main door to unlock it, but this time, there was a loud noise of scrubbing on the roof. What is it this time? He moved back and looked upon where it came from.

To his surprise, it wasn't another cat but a person. Their legs were curled up, arms covered around them, with their chin on their knees. Tsukishima turned on his phone's flashlight and there she was.

It was (Y/N). Her shoulders shook, either from the cold or trying her best not to cry out loud.

"H-Help me."

He stared at the girl, confused and fighting back laughter because of how scared (Y/N) looked. "How the heck did you get in there?"

"I climbed that tree and jumped off to break in and hide in your room. Turned out that the windows are locked. I don't know how to jump back and I-I was too high from the ground. You know I'm scared of heights! Why did you lock the window?! Stupid!"

"Of course, I would lock the window for the security. And wow, aren't you the stupid one for knowing how to climb and jump up to my window and not knowing how to get down? Why did you climb if you are scared of heights? Such an idiot."

"Fine, fine. I am an idiot. Now, can you help me get off this roof?"

He crossed his arms and smirked, "No."

"Ugh! Please, Kei. I've been trapped here for hours. I am begging you to help me get down. Please?"

He sighed in defeat and raised his arms. "Here. Jump."

For seconds, (Y/N) didn't respond as she was having second thoughts about jumping.

"What? Do you expect me to get a ladder? I'm sorry, but it's in the basement, broken." He said in a mocking tone. "Don't you want to come down?"

"Can you catch me properly? Are your arms stable? Won't you fall on your ass?" (Y/N) interrogated.

Tsukishima rolled his eyes, "Alright, stay there and freeze to death."

"No, wait! I was just asking! Come back! Don't leave meeee!"

The blonde looked up to her and raised his arms again, "Don't think. Trust me, I will catch you properly and you won't crash to the ground. You weigh like nothing anyway."

"Are you talking about yourself?" She retorted, pertaining to his weight.

"Can you please just jump?"

(Y/N) inhaled and went to the edge of the roof. It was a scary view for her, just looking down makes her dizzy, and want to throw up. She thought he would have the largest frown on his face because of how irritatingly slow she was, but there was Tsukishima waiting for her with the calmest expression. She smiled a little.

"Here I go..."

She took off, closing her eyes, and swallowing her fears. The gravity pulled her feet down shortly after, and Tsukishima readied himself for the impact as he reached her waist. He held on to her lower torso while (Y/N) placed her arms around his shoulders tightly and legs on his waist. The athlete's balance slightly went off, so he took a step back to support both their weights. It was now steady.

"I'm surprised you didn't lose your balance. Where's the weak boned beanpole 3 years ago?"

"I did for a second."

"Doesn't matter. You caught me. Thank you."

They had stayed in that way for a moment until Tsukishima spoke, "Do you plan to get off?"

"No. I'm tired."

"I am too." Yet she refused to let go.

He exhaled, carrying (Y/N) to the main entrance and finally unlocking the door. Her hoodie was cold and some parts are wet, but it didn't rain on that day. He took her in and placed her on the couch. Tsukishima went to his room, changed clothes, and brought a spare sweatshirt, handkerchief, and a towel. He went down but didn't find (Y/N) where he left her, so he walked to the kitchen counter and found the girl on the corner, shivering like a pup.

He tossed the clothing at her without further words. There was a note from her mom beside the curry in the table, saying she had eaten and she left rolls in the refrigerator. He was about to turn on the stove to reheat the food his mother left, but his eyes landed on (Y/N) who sat quietly, hugging the sweatshirt instead of wearing it. Her hair was disheveled, the sleeves and neck part of her hoodie was damp, her nose was red and her puffy, bloodshot eyes implied that she has been crying for who knows how long. He set the pan down to get her a glass of water.

"Everyone was looking for you." Said Tsukishima.

"No one was really looking for me." (Y/N) replied, clearing her nose.

"I didn't spend the last 3 hours tiring myself to scan the whole town for no reason." He sat beside her, handing the glass. "Care to spill the tea?"

(Y/N) drank first before speaking weakly, "I hate them. So much."

The male remained quiet, waiting for her to continue her dilemma.

"Remember when I told you and the class that I will be the most successful doctor in Japan after I finished my studies? It was a lie. It wasn't my dream to stay in a hospital and treat ill people, I only wanted to draw and paint. I didn't care if it never made them or anyone happy, I am happy doing it. And they are taking it away from me."

He knew from the start that her dream job as a doctor wasn't true. For years she stayed close to him as a friend or more, she won't blabber anything of the medical topic. She was terrified of syringes. He saw her reading an article about surgeries and like, but her focus was easily taken away.

She will get a pencil then start scribbling and drawing. Something that Tsukishima always sees her doing whenever she has a pen and paper, but she insists that it was a mere hobby. Her notebooks are well designed and organized, but the back is always full of artistic doodles instead of algebra solutions. She only has very few art materials yet she can make a portrait with only her fingers to shade. She makes digital art without a stylus. She would drag him to the museum after class to view some western and eastern paintings or any work of art while he admires the dinosaur fossils. For times she's watching an art tutorial and talk about art, draw and paint, she has those stupid sparkles in her eyes and a huge smile on her face.

"You know Tsukishima, after I finish studying and became a doctor, I'll become an artist and if the time let's it, I'll open my own art gallery. That's my ultimate dream." She looked alive and delighted.

Very much the opposite of what she looks like right now.

Even though she was a slave of art, as Tsukishima was a slave of his own interests, (Y/N) prioritized her studies so much. He understood why when he went to her house and met her parents before their study sessions. He had noticed everything but chose to stay quiet.

"I-I was drawing last night. Dad entered my room but I didn't notice so he ripped the music away from my ears and yelled. He said that I would always lock myself in my room and draw every night. It was never-ending and irritates the shit out of him. He asked why would I do something so useless that isn't even connected to any academic subject. He was looking down on my art like he was looking at a piece of crap. He told me to stop and threatened me if I didn't. Why would I get punished for drawing? I couldn't get myself to stay silent so I retorted. If he doesn't want to see me drawing, then he shouldn't enter my room at all. He should stop meddling with my hobbies. His anger only went up."

(Y/N) stopped for a while to wipe her tears and snot with her sleeves but Tsukishima placed a handkerchief on her hands. She muttered her thanks and blew her nose and soon followed with a sneeze.

"Soon, it became a full-blown argument. He said that he was checking out if I was doing my projects, but oh he was so disappointed only to find his daughter drawing for nothing. What the heck? I gave them the best grades I could get, and part of it was because of you, Tsukishima, but they still aren't satisfied? I balanced drawing and academics, but they made it seem that all I was doing was my hobby, completely ignoring my efforts at school. I finished the school activities and I reviewed for midterms and all I want is to be left alone and draw. What, they want me to go crazy by studying every hour with things I won't even apply in real life?"

Her fake laughter echoed in the kitchen for seconds before her depressed tone took over again.

"Mom heard all the shouting and joined the argument. Of course, she sided with dad without listening to my feelings and there they ridiculed their youngest child's interests and talent. They told me that everything I do is bullshit and wrong, that I was useless, that I was the huge opposite of their expectations, and... and how come God gave them a joke. She said they raised me so that I could help them, not to do such useless things. It hurts to shout back but I did to explain why I'm so passionate about art in hopes that they will listen and understand but, I was so wrong. I was suddenly slapped..." She placed her hand to her left cheek, her lips quivered a little.

"I-It stung so much. Mom complained about how the Internet generation is so rebellious and won't listen to the elders. They didn't raise and teach me to talk back at them, but here is their child being a bitch. They started comparing me to my elder siblings or relatives who focused on their studies and who are at the door of success. I know they only want me to achieve the best, but my success isn't up to them! It's on me!! And I've invested a lot for that! They shouted at me as mom pulled my hair. It was so loud I thought I was going deaf. Dad blamed the gadget's influence and my drawings. I have only drawn decent fanarts of fictional characters, people, and sceneries, but they believed that because of these, I turned into a mannerless bastard. So mom decided to get my phone and lessen my allowance so that I wouldn't buy any art materials that are a waste of fortune--"

She bit her lower lip that is trembling uncontrollably and her eyesight blurred as her fat tears got in the way.

"and... D-Dad... he... he... he tore m-my sketch pad apart..."

Tsukishima's eyes widened. (Y/N) brought that thing with her almost everywhere she went and it was filled with good drawings and art plans. She has a lot of them though, but Tsukishima could only imagine how she felt when her efforts were trampled over by someone important to her.

(Y/N) broke down, bawled her eyes out, and shrieked hysterically. He looked at her with a heavy heart. He had seen her crying sometimes, be it because of a sad movie or empathy, but never like this. A depressed, emotional wreck. Her eyes were sore enough after a lot of hours, but she won't stop crying. It was heartbreaking to see and hear his significant other in this state, yet Tsukishima didn't know what is the right thing to say.

But maybe there was no need to say anything at all.

Kei wrapped his arms around her weeping figure and pulled her towards him. Cry it out, pipsqueak. (Y/N) didn't expect this action, nonetheless cried in his shoulder He didn't care anymore if this meant he gets his clothes drenched in her snot and tears as long as she felt a little less lonely. He rubbed her back and hair in an attempt to comfort his lover. (Y/N)'s airways hurt, but she screamed the pain out, in hopes that the pain in her heart would vanish. Her weeping went on for long minutes until she choked in her own sobs that Tsukishima had to get her another glass of water.

"Tell me, Kei." She began, wiping her eyes, "Is there... something wrong with me? Is my dream really that insignificant?"

"There's nothing wrong with you. You followed your ideals. Anyone including me would've done the same." He answered beside her.

"I-It's realistic, right?"

"It is."

"Then... why did it turn out like this?" Her voice was cracking.

Tsukishima looked down, "The society is just very cruel."

"Yeah. It sure is. Such a cruel society to live with."

(Y/N) let out a dejected sigh and leaned on Tsukki's shoulder. "I couldn't look at them without such overwhelming fear and hate anymore. I wonder if... they knew that I was doing this for them. I'd like to make them smile with something I've made myself. Once, I made each of them a portrait. A realistic one made from a pencil. I couldn't afford a material set that can be used to paint realistically, but I tried my best to impress them with a charcoal one. Oh, if only you saw their faces when I gave them the portraits. They returned a half-hearted smile. It wasn't the same kind of joy I see whenever I give them perfect scores on tests. I didn't spend 3 sleepless nights just to see their half happy, half unpleased reaction. I wish they could feel more proud of their daughter who worked hard for them... I wonder if they threw it away as he did on my sketch pad..."

They let silence engulf the atmosphere for a while. (Y/N) had calmed down a little, despite shedding smaller tears from the side of her eyes. Tsukishima held the sweatshirt he gave her earlier to make her wear it on the top of her hoodie to lessen her shivering. He stared at her, while the other gazed down on the floor with dead eyes.

Tsukishima asked, "So, what are you going to do now?"

"What am I going to do now huh..." (Y/N) repeated. "I'll probably... put everything to an end."

"You know I won't let you."

"I'm not talking about my life, silly. I might stop drawing and all. I've lost it."

"Isn't your life and drawing one and the same? And I'm pretty sure you have that immense talent to continue."

"No... Besides, talent isn't a talent if it doesn't make anyone happy."

The blonde mentally scoffed. She just said that it makes her happy in the beginning.

"Oh? Fine, stop doing that one thing you put everything into. What would that girl you received a commission from would feel if she were to hear you though?"

(Y/N) was stunned. She had completely forgotten about the whole commission thing she opened in her social media accounts. Tsukishima accompanied (Y/N) on giving the commissioned charcoal portrait to a girl last 3 weeks ago. It was (Y/N)'s first commission for years she's making art. Someone liked her work for the first time and paid for it, and her client looks very contented and glad. The words she said filled her thoughts with inspiration.

"Wow, this is awesome! I'm so happy!! Thank you for making this, it was exactly what I've pictured on my mind! You're amazing! All the excitement I've bottled up for this day is so worth it," The girl, probably a little older than them paused and admired the painting she received from (Y/N).

"Would you ignore those words she said?"

'Please don't stop drawing, I'll be looking forward to your future works!'

A pang of guilt hit her chest. She wants to pursue art, but there are these shackles and chains on her limbs and around her neck that made it hard for her to move forward. She couldn't breathe. What happened yesterday night was too much. Her parents went overboard.

"B-But—"

A monotone voice interrupted her, "Don't. Never stop striving for something you have been building for years. You might be defeated now, but surely, you will win some time. There's no way you'll stay in the lowest level of the ladder after I saw how hard you worked. You will go to nationals again, and I will continue to support you. I'll cheer for you and stay by your side! So please, do not stop! Let me see those beautiful blocks that you execute in the game once more! And I will watch you reach the top! Doesn't matter how many times, I'll never get weary of watching you do amazing things!"

She was silenced by that statement. She had definitely heard those before, but couldn't quite remember where.

"Does the sentiment seem familiar to you? Those are the same words that came from your mouth when I was planning to quit volleyball after our huge loss to Date Tech last year. I am returning them back to you."

"Huh?" She replied with a meek voice.

"That time, you really did a good job meddling with my decisions. It annoyed me first, but what you had stated held a weight that I couldn't disregard. You gave me the small push I didn't know I needed. In the end, I'd like to pay you back." Tsukishima stated with a far away look in his eyes.

(Y/N) listened with watery eyes. This Tsukishima's side isn't definitely the one she gets to see every day so she couldn't feel anything but the warm, fuzzy feeling that is healing her heart.

"It's probably selfish for me to say this but, don't you dare give up. I didn't stop. No matter how long and hard the game is, no matter how tired and discouraged I get, and no matter how many pessimistic thoughts clouded my head, I didn't stop chasing after a falling ball and thinking of another tactic to counter the enemy. I kept your words with me in court. It was you who told me not to in the first place, and I'm not going to forgive you if you ever dropped everything. I won't let the stupid, starry-eyed (Y/N) die today."

The girl beside her started sobbing. "But you told me once that my drawing are ugly."

"Oh. That. I... kind of remember that. I'm not sorry about what I said because I did it to provoke and rile you up. It was a lie though. As someone who always sees you drawing, I can't call your work ugly at all. Your art is... astounding. You make it look like it's so easy to do. I think you forgot next sentence after I told you that."

"What was the sentence after?"

Tsukishima sighed, "I told you to keep doing it, right?"

The sound of (Y/N) crying engulfed the kitchen, "Oh gosh, why did I forget that... I'm sorry, I'm so idiotic..."

The blonde brought her back to his arms, "Will you stop crying, you've been too hard on yourself today,"

(Y/N) hid her face on his chest, muffling her speech, "c-couldn't help it... my mind is such a mess... I do not know..." She paused, coughing. "It's no use if m-my parents don't acknowledge me..."

"Hundreds, or perhaps thousands of people who follow you on social media account recognize you. People in school recognizes you. I recognize you. I am your ally. Isn't that enough reason for you to get back on your feet? I will support you just like how you supported me. You have a lot of people who admire you, but I only have a few people and you. Yet your words are enough. I'm certain that soon, you will reach your parents' standards and get them to acknowledge you. It's not impossible."

(Y/N) fixed her tear-stained face before looking up to him, "You know what? Who are you? Is a good spirit possessing your body? The Kei I know will either stay quiet or laugh at me for being pathetic."

"I was trying to be nice for once and this is what I get?" He frowned.

(Y/N) chuckled and hugged Tsukishima, "I'm sorry. Everything you said meant the world to me. Thank you very much."

She relaxed against his lean body, "I have a question though..."

"What?"

"You literally had no business in my art, it was my own problem. Why are you doing this?"

"Why don't you ask yourself after you argued with me that night? Why did you have to butt in with my choices?"

"Because you like volleyball! You might look like that someone stole your dinosaur collection when you're at practice, but you're good at it and have a future in it! It is a part of you, and you're deciding to throw it away? Your potential is too big to be wasted and I refuse to let that happen." Her voice is a little louder now, but hoarse.

"There's your answer, little gremlin."

"How is that— Oh."

"But I'd like to add something."

"What is it?"

"You look better doing what you really like. It makes you look less like a hag."

It was silent after that. (Y/N) punched his arm. Tsukishima didn't even wince but asked, "What was that for?"

"The last statement was unnecessary, and the first one is sweet yet cringey." She criticized.

"C'mon, I'm just a teenager. Aren't you the cringey one most of the times?"

She used the handkerchief to sniffle her runny nose away, "Why do you have a knack of returning everything I said to me?"

"I won't do it if it's not appropriate." Tsukishima placed his hands on her back and to her hair, "So, what are you going to do now, (Y/N)?"

"I'll think things through. My brain is still slightly messy, but I'll be fine, thanks to you. But Kei..."

He hummed as a response. "I don't want to go home. I want to run away."

"Not possible. You can't survive on your own. You're almost 18 and until now, you don't understand how a washing machine works with all your perfect scores in exams."

"This is just a thought. I didn't say I'll be alone. I'm taking you with me."

"I refuse."

"Why?"

"Couldn't you wait for more months until we graduate?"

(Y/N)'s eyebrows raised, "So basically, you're agreeing, but not this time?"

"No, but you'll be free of your parents' suffocating control. Who knows how huge is your potential by that time."

"How considerate of you." The girl smiled.

"Only this time. And no, we won't live in the same place in college. Not yet. Not until we finish our studies, have secured jobs, and get important things done."

"Will you be playing volleyball at college?"

He lazily replied, "Probably."

"Don't give me such an ambiguous answer!"

"Probably yes."

"Hmm. Fine by me. I'll continue to draw, then." (Y/N) rested her head near Tsukishima's neck.

He smiled a little at her answer, "Another thing though. I don't think... you should leave things with your parents like that. There'll be a time where you have to face it."

"Yes, that sucks... I don't want to think about it but I'll have to go back eventually... When that confrontation happens, I'll try to calmly talk it out with them. I will never be certain if it will end well. But my hate and fear of them won't change."

"You can always run back here if it didn't end well."

"Kei, don't want to see their faces just yet. Can I stay here for a while?"

"You even bother to ask. You are welcome anytime in this household. Just enter the house in the front door, not in my window."

"Right... thank you."

"Oh, now it's my turn to ask. How did you get in there?"

(Y/N) sighed, "It was on 4:30pm. I was on the loose and I looked for a store where anyone can't recognize me so I can eat for lunch. But there's this creep who kept on following me—"

"Did he hurt you?" He abruptly questioned.

"No. I ran as fast as I could before he could even get close to me, but in the next block, there were the town authorities with my mom, and I knew they were looking for me, so I blended into the people with my hoodie on and made my way. I climbed the tree in panic that they'll find me and hid there. It took me hours to notice that your house is just next to it, so I decided to climb to your window. However, the window was locked, and I was stuck."

Tsukishima sighed in relief. "It was a miracle that a klutz like you didn't fell off the tree and surprisingly, no one found you."

"I was high in adrenaline when I climbed the tree. My blending and hiding skills are in ninja-tier now, I beat you."

"Whatever. What did you have for breakfast?"

"...a melon bread."

"Just that?"

"Just that."

Tsukishima kissed her forehead before lifting her up with him. "Go change. Borrow any of my clothes. I'll reheat the food."

(Y/N) kissed his cheek, slowly got off him and went upstairs. Tsukishima opened his phone to text Yamaguchi about her situation and proceeded to reheat the spicy curry.

"Wait, Kei! Is it okay for me to eat?" She shouted from upstairs.

"What kind of question is that? Of course you can." He shouted back.

"Your mom left that for you, for your dad and for your brother. I'd feel bad."

"My brother and dad will come home late and I'm sure they've eaten already. So is mom."

"Are you sure? I can replace the food." She said while going down the stairs.

"Oh, you can cook? I'm afraid you'll burn the whole kitchen." He mocked.

"At least not the whole house." (Y/N) laughed, "Just kidding, I have a tiny knowledge in cooking."

"You don't have to, I told you they already ate. I'll bring out the sushi mom made if you still want to eat."

"Alright. Thank you for the food."

Few hours later, Tsukishima's mom came home and took off her shoes. "I'm home."

As she was about to enter the living room, Akiteru greeted her and placed his finger in front of his lips, indicating her to keep quiet. She wondered what was going on and saw her youngest son and his girlfriend leaning on his shoulder, asleep on the couch in front of the TV. He signaled her to read the note Kei left on the table.

To mom, dad, and brother,

Earlier in the morning, (Y/N) went missing and her parents and town authorities were looking for her. I found her on the way home, but it turns out that she ran away from her home because of an intense argument between her parents, and doesn't want to be found yet. Please let her stay here for a while. I'll do most of the household chores or any favor you ask me in return.

Mom, I shared the curry and sushi rolls with her. I left for some for dad and brother. (Y/N) said it was very delicious.

Love,

Kei.

She smiled after reading the note and looked at the sleeping kids. She took notice of (Y/N)'s eyes and quickly understood the situation. Before she left to rest in her room, she looked for a spare blanket and laid it atop them to keep them warm.

(Y/N) snuggled further to Tsukishima's arms, satisfied on how this night will end well, unlike yesterday's.

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writesowhatnext · 4 years ago

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game, set, match // oliver wood

Summary: Slytherin!reader is a complete flirt. Oliver Wood hates it; he promises. He’s sure.

Request: heyyyy! how about oliver wood with a very flirty slytherin!reader, where she's the seeker in the slytherin team? thanks!

A/N: I loved this request oml but also Y/L/N is your last name bc quidditch... sorry this took me so long to write bc this is like my dream request so I don’t know why I struggled so much but I really hope you like it

Reader: female, Slytherin

Warnings: flirting, innuendo, suggestive themes, making out

“We’re gonna train earlier, harder and longer,” Oliver said, completely unaware of the eye rolls of his teammates. He’d never been too good at noticing things like that, especially when his mind was so preoccupied with quidditch plays and quidditch teams and how he could get out of Potions faster to practice for quidditch.

You were quite observant, though, and even from across the courtyard, the Gryffindor captain caught your eye. Everyone had always said he was an excellent captain – obsessed, mind you, but brilliant all the same - but no one warned you about how handsome he’d be. You watched with poorly disguised intrigue as his face soured when he spotted Marcus Flint approach, a gaggle of green-cloaked students trailing behind him across the stone slabs.

“What?” Oliver huffed, scowling. “I don’t believe it.”

You couldn’t help but smile as his frowned deepened. You and Oliver Wood did not know each other: you weren’t in the same circles and you didn’t often stoop low enough to associate with Gryffindors, but his cute pout and angry brows made you rethink that rule of yours.

“Where do you think you’re going, Flint?”

Flint grinned; either he didn’t sense Oliver’s anger, or he didn’t care. Your money was well placed on the latter.

“Quidditch practice.”

Both teams edged closer to each other, each captains’ dull irritation turning the air stale. You regarded the tension with a rather amused grin.

“I booked the pitch for Gryffindor today.”

“Easy, Wood,” Flint said, his tone mocking. Oliver ground his teeth together. “I’ve got a note.”

Oliver snatched the scroll from his hands, peeling it open. His eyes scanned the words quickly, Fred looming over his shoulder to get a better look. You listened with equal parts smugness and intrigue as he read it out, his accent like music to your ears.

“I, Professor Severus Snape,” he said, his annoyance growing by the second. “Hereby give the Slytherin team permission to practice today owing to the need to train their new seeker.”

His eyes darted to Flint’s.

“You’ve got a new seeker,” he said dryly. “Who?”

The sea of green cloaks parted and you stepped out, your head tilted to the side slightly as you smiled at him.

“Hi,” you said lightly, wiggling the fingers of your free hand at him, the other clutched loosely around your broom.

You smirked as Oliver’s brows drew down, his team simultaneously sizing you up behind him. He recognised your face from Charms, or perhaps Defence Against the Dark Arts, he wasn’t sure. He tended to avoid Slytherins and looking at your teasing expression, he realised why.

“You’re the new seeker?” he asked, unable and unwilling to hide the incredulity of his tone. His eyes trailed over your face critically.

“Yes,” you said lazily, more amused than insulted. “Seems I’ve got a knack for it.”

“Right.”

“If I was more sensitive, I’d be offended, Wood,” you said slowly, wetting your lips. “I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”

As you followed Flint towards the quidditch pitch, a renewed sense of excitement flooded through you. Sure, being on the quidditch team would be fun anyway, but now you had Oliver Wood to play with and so, the world seemed just that much brighter. You were more than pleased when you glanced back to see the whole Gryffindor team watching after you. With a wink and a wave, you disappeared down the hallway towards the pitch, grinning at the frown pulling at Wood’s brows.

“Blimey,” Fred said as they returned back to the common room, tails between their legs. “That new seeker’s definitely got the hots for you, Wood.”

“Did you see that wink?” George snorted. “She’s got balls, I’ll give her that.”

“What?” Oliver said shortly, stopping just before the Fat Lady’s portrait. He told himself that he was irritated about not being able to practice, but he couldn’t ignore the strange frustration he felt at hearing Fred and George speak about you as if they were impressed.

“Oh, don’t pretend you didn’t notice,” George said, rolling his eyes as he dipped through the portrait hole.

“She was eyeing you up the whole time.”

“What are you two on about?”

Fred and George shared a look as Wood retreated to his dorm, his thoughts plagued by your silly little wave and cocky little grin, his cheeks pink.

He found himself noticing you everywhere after that; a strange turn of events for him given his usual inobservance. At first, it was in Potions, listening to you laugh across the classroom, and then after that, he caught your eye in the Great Hall and yet again, you shot him a wink that had him frowning. He even met you waiting for the same staircase.

“Morning, Wood,” you said with that same teasing smile. He pursed his lips together, exhaling sharply out of his nose.

“Morning,” he said reluctantly, shuffling from one foot to the other. You stood there in silence for a moment, shoulder to shoulder as the staircase swung around.

“Are you a snitch?” you said conversationally, biting your cheek. You turned to face him, watching his expression contort in confusion.

“Am I a-“

“Because you’re quite the catch.”

He watched you walk leisurely up the stairs with his mouth open and his brows knitted together. Were you hitting on him? He swallowed, clearing his throat as a first-year thundered past him to reach the stairs before they moved again. He followed them up, feeling somewhat of a first-year again himself, before he huffed and annoyance ran through him at your audacity. Who exactly did you think you were?

He got his answer next time he saw you on the quidditch pitch. You were flirting, apparently. Gryffindor vs Slytherin games were always a struggle; it was hard to beat a good team as it was, but beating a good team that also cheated felt next to impossible. It didn’t help at all that you were so distracting as you hovered near him by the goalposts, watching for the snitch.

“You’re looking rather dashing today, Wood,” you said, balancing your elbows on the broom to rest your chin against your hand.

He rolled his eyes at your words, blushing slightly as he eyed your laidback position.

“And I know a fantastic way to make it up to you when you lose,” you said, amusement ringing through your tone.

“Don’t you have a job to do, Y/L/N?” he asked, feigning irritation. You grinned, pleasantly surprised that he even knew your name.

“I do, actually,” you replied softly. “I’m a hell of a seeker, you know. And I think you might be the one I’m looking for.”

His head shot up, his shocked eyes meeting your ever-present smirk.

“What exactly are you trying-“ he began, desperately trying to hide the way your words rattled him.

“Sorry, Wood, gotta run. Apparently, I have a job to do. I’ll definitely catch you later.”

You shot after the snitch towards the Ravenclaw stand, leaving Wood thoroughly confused in your wake, a strange stirring in his chest.

Gryffindor lost that game.

Everyone could tell that Wood was more irritated than usual at the loss, but nobody knew that it was because you were right and that he hated that you were right. It irked him that you were a hell of a seeker. It irked him that you were so cocky. It irked him that you flirted with him so brazenly. More than anything, it irked him that he found himself undeniably and unfortunately attracted to you.

His team could guess, though, the link between your flirty remarks and Oliver’s recently extra-aggravated mood. The twins specifically were fans of seeing Wood so flustered, and because of a girl no less. What they weren’t particular fans of was losing and Wood’s distracted state seemed to be the main contributor to Gryffindors recent streak.

“Okay, Wood,” Fred said, sitting on one side of him as George sat on the other. Never a good sign, Oliver thought.

“We need to talk.”

The Transfiguration class was filling up; they wouldn’t have long to talk some sense into their captain before McGonagall arrived.

“About?”

“The Slytherin.”

Oliver raised his eyebrows, busying himself with shuffling his parchment and trying not to let his feelings leak onto his face.

“Which Slytherin?” he replied, his words deliberate.

“You hear that George?” Fred snorted. “Which Slytherin, he says.”

“Oh, just the Slytherin that you’ve been flirting with for the past three weeks.”

“That Slytherin.”

“I’m sure you remember her.”

“She’s the one flirting with me!” Wood snapped loudly, defensively, drawing the attention of some Ravenclaws from the row next to him.

“So, you do know who we’re on about,” George said smugly, tilting his head to the side.

“Very well, it appears,” Fred nodded, smirking.

Oliver rolled his eyes and groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

“What of it?” he said, his voice strained.

“You need to talk to her,” George said.

“Or tell her to stop,” Fred continued.

“Anything so we can start winning again.”

“You could hex her…”

“Or snog her…”

“Maybe you could just shag her in the broom-“

“Alright, alright,” Oliver said, his eyes narrowed as he scowled, unable to keep his cheeks from blushing. “You’ve made your point.”

“Excellent,” they said with matching grins as they walked over to their seats across the room, pushing each other on the way.

Even though Transfiguration was already ruined for the day, Wood was pleased that that particular conversation was over with. He didn’t think there was anyone he wanted to talk about you less with than the twins with their ruthless taunting. There was no way he’d be able to keep his thoughts from straying to you during class, but at least with Professor McGonagall teaching, his daydreaming would be kept to a minimum. The last thing he needed was the wrath of McGonagall; his recent performance in Quidditch was not helping him stay in her good books as it was. She hadn’t arrived yet, though, and so he let himself wallow a little bit, his head falling pitifully into his hands.

The first poke he felt at his shoulder he ignored, writing it off as an accident. The second had him sitting up straighter. The third time, he tutted, swearing quietly under his breath before he whipped around to see you, of all people, sat behind him. His eyes went wide at the sight of you and all of his frustration frustratingly melted into a puddle of nerves.

“Yes?” he asked, trying not to show it under your steady gaze. “Can I help you?”

“Well,” you said, your smile immediately filling him with regret at his word choice. “There’s a lot of ways you can help me…”

You trailed off as his expression turned guarded and your lips twitched. You leant forward onto your elbows, pleased when he didn’t recoil at the close proximity of your faces.

“I just wanted to say hi, though, for now.”

Oliver frowned; his suspicion obvious.

“…Hello, then,” he said hesitantly, his sweet little scowl making its way back onto his face. Surely you had to have some sort of remark planned, ready to fluster him once again.

“You seem rather stressed today.”

Oliver paused again before responding, not sure how to process your first proper conversation. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to share his current woes with you, especially given you were the cause, but your eyes seemed sincere for once and that incessant smirk seemed a little less hostile this close.

“I’m not everyone’s favourite person at the minute.”

“Ah,” you said, nodding knowingly. “Because of quidditch.”

He hadn’t expected you to be so blunt, but he was pleasantly surprised by it.

“Seems I’m a bit distracted.” He said, shocked by his own boldness.

His words hung in the air between you for a moment and he watched with wary interest as a smile lifted at your cheeks. He was struck, really, that he’d never seen you smile properly before. You had an excellent smirk and you portrayed vague amusement like an expert, but the way your eyes were crinkling had him doing the same. Your flirty remarks died on your tongue at the way he grinned at you, and you found yourself feeling more and more like a silly little school girl by the second. Flirting with him had started out as a bit of fun, especially when you caught his irritated glances and flushed expression, but by the way your stomach had turned into butterfly house, it was suddenly something else entirely, something actually quite nerve-wracking.

“I can give you a tip if you like,” you said, swallowing the lump in your throat. “An old wives’ tale about brooms. Might help you with your quidditch playing.”

He pursed his lips, enjoying talking to you more than he’d have liked. He doubted, looking at your face, that what you were about to say would help him, but he didn’t really care.

“Go on, then.”

Your smirk returned, but you were more nervous to deliver your line than you ever had been, hopefully, he didn’t notice.

“Don’t you think broomsticks have it bad?”

He frowned.

“They have to carry someone around all day, constantly destroyed by bludgers-“

“Is this going somewhere?” Oliver asked almost playfully, his brow raised. You shushed him, pushing his shoulder gently in scolding, an oddly informal gesture for the two of you.

“So, what they say is: save a broom, you know; just ride a quidditch play-“

“Ms Y/L/N.”

Your blood ran cold as Oliver turned around, Professor McGonagall somehow appearing right in front of him.

“Perhaps it would be a good idea to save your quidditch tips for outside the classroom, hm?”

Oliver realised with a healthy amount of surprise that, for the first time since meeting you, you were nervous, embarrassed even. Despite the scolding from McGonagall and the fact that this would land him even further away from her good graces, he couldn’t help but smile at your softness.

“Of course, Professor,” you replied, your voice uncharacteristically small. He bit his lip as he faced the front, struggling to contain his grin and struggling to ignore the funny feeling in his chest at seeing a different side of you.

Oliver was more stunned than anybody at how much he enjoyed your company. What surprised him the most, though, was how much he needed to see you again. How much your face plagued his thoughts.

“Oi, Y/N!” he yelled across the quidditch pitch, jogging over to you. He didn’t have a plan, per se, as you turned around and grinned, watching him stride towards you in his school robes. The closer he got to you and your teammates, all dressed in dark green, the more flustered he felt and he cursed you for a second for being so attractive in the sunlight.

“You alright, Wood?” you asked, folding your arms over one another and wetting your lips.

“Good, yes, yeah, you?” he said, slightly breathless from his run. You pursed your lips to contain your laughter at his flushed face.

“I’m fine,” you said, tilting your head to the side quizzically, an unspoken question.

“Can I- uh- borrow you?” he said, swallowing the tightness in his throat. “Alone.”

You turned to Flint with a raised eyebrow, your jaw clenched to suppress your smile.

“Only be a few minutes,” Oliver said, trying to appeal to Flint’s non-existent better nature.

“Please?” you said, beaming when Flint rolled his eyes, nodding reluctantly.

“What’s up, then, Wood?” you said, walking away from your teammates, your shoulders almost touching.

“Uh,” he said. What was up? What was he doing? Why didn’t he have a plan?

Looking at your amused expression and bright eyes, he floundered, not at all sure of what he was doing. He let out an uneasy chuckle when you waved your hands in front of his face.

“You seem… distracted,” you said, echoing his words from before, quietly pleased when he smiled.

“I am, actually,” he said, nodding with newfound confidence. “You’re very distracting.”

He hummed.

“All this flirting is awful for my quidditch performance, you see. Just can’t stop thinking about you.”

You paused, pulling your top lip between your teeth.

“Is that right?” you said, feeling your cheeks heat up as you raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, it is,” he said, stepping closer to you, his hands hovering just over your hips. “I suppose there’s only one thing to do about it.”

“Oh?” you said, swallowing apprehensively as he leant towards you. He smirked.

“You’re looking a bit nervous there, Y/N.”

“Me? Never, I-“

Before you could finish your unconvincing protest, you were interrupted by his lips on yours. Your stomach flipped at the feeling, but only a second passed before he pulled away.

His expression was panicked as he looked at you, your faces so close you felt his breath on your face.

“Oh,” you said softly, reaching your hands up to play with the lapels of his robes. “I always knew you were a keeper.”

He scoffed, throwing his head back and barking a laugh.

“Shut up,” he said, tilting his head to kiss you again, this time properly.

harry potter tag list:

@creator-appreciator @decadentwastelandtrash @loveisblindness @xinyourdreamsx @brainlesspasta @hariosborn @staringmoony @rexorangecouny @alittletoomanyobsessions @peachesandpinks @yuptha-tsme @obsessedwithrandomthings @dreamer821 @iprobablyshipit91 @in-slytherin-we-trust @haphazardhufflepuff @princesof-theuniverse @whovianayesha @msmimimerton @extra-trash77 @potterverseimagine @my-own-mindpalace @sxrensxngwrites @damonwhitlock @susceptible-but-siriusexual

#Oliver Wood x reader #Oliver Wood imagine #Oliver Wood #imagine #writing #Harry Potter imagine #harry potter

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phantom-bleu · 3 years ago

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Ok right. So just to get it out of the way i think the logic that madeleine isnt a trained knight or anything silly (tho i also dont see many ppl arguing this personally) bc like, he is a character u can choose for ur team and he fights w a sword and shield so like. Yeah. But more importantly 2 me i have talked to ppl abt maddie being like a pr knight before but i also think its more complicated like that

So like literally the only things devsis has bothered to say to describe the republic is that its 1. Peaceful (not a clue what this is supposed to imply ngl) and 2. Well known for actively engaging w arts and theatre. I dont think its a coincidence that madeleines descriptions all show him as this regal noble heroic picturesque etc etc etc knight, like compare these to knight cookie, madeleines image is alllll abt the visuals and how he appears to someone looking at him. His pristine and crisp cloak, his shining armour, regal, “magnanimous” presence etc like the fact his image as a knight is so tied to these very fairytale-esque descriptors makes me think his role as a knight and commander is to be like the heroes and princes From the plays in the republic… hes arrogant and thinks hes magnificent bc for his role hes /supposed/ to be perfect, so that ppl can trust/admire/dream over him etc. I think this is supported a lot by some of his lines:

Maddie always talks like hes giving some kind of noble speech which i dont really notice w other characters where its not appropriate? Like everything he says is a performance of some kind whether its a speech abt the divines will or his own glory and it feels like there should be an audience that these lines should b spoken to

These lines especially stick out, these reassurances as if hes pushing the image that hes a knight so kindhearted that noooooo humble commoners’ plight is too small for him to take care of… like who needs to hear this? Like hes such a romanticised idea of a knight and i think its on purpose? Especially given that the One thing we know abt the republics culture is they loveeee their theatrics and dramatising battle and victory!!!!!

(espresso is sleeping in this screenshot please speak quietly so he can rest)

Anyways. I dont think it needs pointing out that madeleine is dramatic and superficial and obsessed w maintaining this dreamlike perfect knightly image. But ik a lot of ppl get tripped up on the idea that hes not this selfless missionary of goodwill (which ironically is exactly how he wants to look, just a very pretty one) but dont be afraid of it… not only is it really funny to imagine him this way, seeing him get constantly knocked down 5 pegs at a time bc nobody rlly wants to pay attention to him, but also its fun to imagine why hes this way and how it might affect him. Madeleines narcissism feels like an inevitability when he was born into a noble family of knights and virtually inherits the role of knight commander. How does it affect someone to be raised and fine tuned perfectly for the role of a public figure, let alone one that acts as a protector of the people, who lives to help the helpless, who is effortlessly victorious and looks handsome while doing it, who never struggles except when he heroically overcomes it to inadvertently teach a valuable lesson to others?🤔 as self centred as he is madeleines whole schtick is to serve others whether thats by saving them or just looking as perfect as possible. In gingerbraves kingdom literally nobody needs a role model like this so they r either unphased or irritated by that schtick and he’s still in denial abt this, assuming hes just not radiant enough for people to notice him or the like. And like. What is there to him besides that superficial image hes crafted of himself bc i dont think hes stupid, i think he knows how much ppl dont care but like. Whats it like having a persona uve carefully crafted ur whole life to appeal to as many ppl as possible ripped off of u by the fact that u dont appeal to anyone

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zeppelin-and-unicorns · 3 years ago

Photo

So, as I said in a previous post, I spent the whole night yesterday making picrews, and I thought: “Why not make picrews of the fictional family that I love more than everything in this world?”

Anyway, here they are! This is a close representation of how I picture the Hyde family whenever I think about the TSG universe (I am going to come up with a different name for this universe one day I promise). I am also going to give you guys some glimpses about their quirks and their personalities, so, click on the thingy if you’re interested on reading that.

Unfortunaly, it was impossible to make Jackie and Gracie’s eyes the way I picture them (mismatched, lol. I know this is a controversial topic but every single time I see the show I notice how Jackie’s eyes are different colors and I add that to every single one of my fics. It’s one of her little flaws that only makes her more perfect). So just pretend that one of their eyes is blue-ish, and the other one is green-ish.

Oh, and as I post more and more picrews, you might notice that out of all the adults characters from the TSG universe, Jackie’s the only one who doesn’t have any wrinkles. Years of a very strict skincare routine payed off really well for her.

Hyde grew his beard back, mostly because I always picture him with a beard when he’s older. Oh, and sorry for the lack of sunglasses, he stopped wearing them everyday when Dylan was a baby (he kept taking them off his face and throwing them at the ground lol).

On the left, we see Layla, the eldest and the wisest from all the three kids. The age gap between her and her siblings is big, so they always run to her when they need advice about something.

Layla’s a lot like Jackie, she cares about her looks, she’s a social butterfly, and she’s probably the most popular girl in school. She’s not shallow though, nor does she have the superiority complex Jackie had in the first few seasons of the show, Hyde and Jackie made sure to raise her well.

Layla’s also a bookworm, and a big romantic at heart. One of her dreams is to publish an epic romance novel, and writing is probably one of her favorite things in the entire world. She has this little red notebook filled with heart stickers in the cover where she often writes poems -- and Jackie is the only person allowed to read said poems.

Her hair is naturally wavy (as showed in the picture), but she starts to straighten it when she’s older. She grew up in the 90s after all.

Then there’s Dylan, or as I like to call him, the Hyde’s little evil spawn.

Don’t get me wrong here, Dylan is literally so sweet, and he cares about his family more than anything in the world. He’s a sucker for his mom’s hugs and he wants to be like Hyde in the future, but he also has a lot of pent up energy, which tends to put him into some pretty funny situations.

Dylan has a partner in crime, his name’s Jordan and he’s Fez and Laurie’s son (I’ll post a picrew of him later too). I’ve based Dylan and Jordan’s friendship on the Weasley twins from Harry Potter, they are natural pranksters and they drive Laurie and Jackie insane. Red helps the duo out with their pranks sometimes, claiming it’s “payback” for all the years he had to tolerate his son and his dumbasses friends mooching off him and making his life “miserable”. Dylan and Red also have a cute bond, we’ll see more of that in the sequel.

As he grows older, Dylan gets tall. Like, Jackie’s a midget next to him, guys (that doesn’t stop her from coddling him though). No one knows where he’s got that height from, and he uses that to his advantage (by placing Jackie and Layla’s Pop music CDs on high places that they couldn’t possibly reach just to mess with them. Oh, and he also joins the basketball team lol).

He’s very protective of his family, like, really protective, and he doesn’t take shit from anyone. He has a special soft spot for Hannah (Eric and Donna’s younger daughter). Hannah is a year older than him, and she’s hearing impaired. One day a guy from school stole her hearing aid to mess with her, and he got the beating of a lifetime. Dylan was suspended and Jackie went to the school to yell at the principal and defend her son, because she’s that kind of mom.

Don’t get any wrong ideas about Dylan and Hannah though, they were raised like siblings.

Dylan’s very into cars (another thing in common he has with Red), and when Hyde finally gives him the Camino, he babies the fuck out of it.

And last but not least... Gracie. Or Erica, as Eric likes to remind everyone about it.

Gracie will only be three years old in the sequel, so we won’t see a lot of her personality, but as I said many times, I do plan on writing one-shots about the kids when they’re older once the sequel is done, so...

Hyde has a special nickname for her, he calls her his little “Goldilocks” because her hair is curly and it’s almost a golden color. She’s a very smart kid and she’s always drawing.

Seriously, Jackie and Hyde’s fridge is filled with Gracie’s drawings, it’s the sweetest thing. They never threw a single drawing of her away, they always keep them, and they incentivize her as much as possible when she’s growing up.

She grows up to be an artsy person, and she’s very talented. She’s not a social butterfly like Layla, nor is she a “badass” like Dylan, she’s an introvert, she likes to stay home with her parents (she loves her parents so much) and have movie marathons with them on the weekends instead of going out to party.

She hangs out a lot with Katie (Fez and Laurie’s youngest daughter), who’s her best friend and her complete opposite, they have a bunch of sleepovers where they watch a ton of horror movies together and stuff their faces with ice cream. Their friendship is really something else, and she’s the first person Gracie comes out to (yup, Gracie’s a lesbian).

Gracie and Eric are very close, and she gets him very into Harry Potter. It’s funny, because Eric insists that he’s a Gryffindor, and Gracie tells him he’s totally a Hufflepuff, which makes him mad and they end up bickering because of it. But overall, they love each other a lot, and Eric’s a father figure to her.

Her relationship with Jackie and Hyde is beautiful. She’s not afraid of asking them for cuddles when she’s feeling down, and they are literally her biggest supporters. When Layla moves out for good (insert very sad Jackie and Hyde noises), they turn her room into a mini art studio for Gracie, and she spends most of her days there, listening to music and painting whatever comes to her mind.

Wow, I got really excited and I ended up talking waaay too much, but well... I love this family so much, I couldn’t help myself.

If you have any questions about the TSG sequel or about the characters in general, please feel free to send them to me!

Posting picrews of the Forman family next!

#the sweetest gifts #picrews #jackie burkhart #steven hyde #layla hyde #dylan hyde #gracie hyde

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washymylifeaway · 4 years ago

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SakuAtsu Fanfic recs pt2 leggo

I promised a pt 2 and here it is! Link to pt 1 here :) I was lazy so given summaries (I cped this time, but in the future I might paraphrase), and ofc these aren’t all of the ones I loved, just some :D So in no particular order, have some SakuAtsu <3

As always, pls check WARNINGS, TAGS, and SUMMARIES for fics before reading (esp cause I didn’t put individual warnings PLEASE make sure you’re okay with the content!!!!!!) and make sure you’re taking care of yourselves (since mental health is key!) Stay healthy loves <3

Teach Me, Tune Me, Tempt Me by Anonymous (E) 38.8k // Sakusa Kiyoomi needs to conquer many lifelong fears in order to enter his first romantic relationship. Miya Atsumu is there to guide him every step of the way, even if the one Sakusa desires is someone else.

Flowers Bloom In Our Masks by UnicornFlowers (G) 24.5k // "Mysophobia, also known as verminophobia, germophobia, germaphobia, bacillophobia and bacteriophobia, is a pathological fear of contamination and germs." "You read that off of Wikipedia." "That's the point, Omi-kun. I read up on it fer you."

the art of folding a handkerchief by Emlee_J (T) 5.6k // “Atsumu-san’s just realised he likes Sakusa-san,” Shouyou says simply, as though announcing the weather. “Ahh,” Bokuto nods sagely, standing up straight and nodding his head, as though this was a perfectly normal thing to hear and not monumental in any way. “'Ahh?'” Atsumu protests, indignantly, “what do ya mean ‘ahh?’” “We were wondering when you were going to notice,” Bokuto shrugs, and Atsumu gawps at him. “'Scuse me?” He splutters, and whips his gaze around to Shouyou, who bobs his head at him in confirmation. “How did you two notice before I did?” Atsumu blurts out. "Most people do," Shouyou says softly. -In which Atsumu develops something annoying, like feelings for a teammate, but at least he has a couple of wingmen and Tobio's seemingly infinite resources to help him out.

for whom the heart beats by cielelyse (T) 1.6k // Atsumu's heart keeps skipping a beat whenever Sakusa's around - so often that it's baffling and honestly downright concerning. "I think I might have a medical condition," he says into the phone. "Good," says Osamu, and hangs up.

as you are by papertulips (G) 5.8k // Kiyoomi learns that falling for Atsumu is the easiest thing in the world.

Hide and seek by badreputation (E) 10.5k // It’s just a fleeting infatuation. As long as he pushes through it he’ll manage. So what if nowadays there isn’t a night where he doesn’t dream of Sakusa pinning him down on his own bed, in the shower or make Atsumu go down on his knees in the hallway? Those are just pesky details.

People Will Say We're in Love by tirralirra (T) 9.5k // “Saku...Atsu? What does that even mean?” Atsumu says, squinting at the device. People seem to think that Sakusa and Atsumu are in love, so they come up with a list of things to do to deter that. Maybe it would work...if they weren’t in love.

do not separate! by aalphard (T) 5k // He knows he likes peanut butter and the tuna onigiri Uncle Shamu makes for him. He knows he likes volleyball and the way his daddy looks so, so cool when he’s on court. He knows he likes drawing and playing with toy swords. He knows he likes reading and it’s even better when Atsumu is the one reading for him. He knows he likes to have pancakes in the morning but he also really, really likes tamagoyaki and he knows his daddy can’t make those at all. He tries, but fails every single time. He knows his daddy’s teammates like him and he knows they’ll help him if he wants to play with them one day. But the thing is he likes Uncle Omi-kun more than he likes the rest of them and that is a secret he won’t tell anyone that’s not his daddy. He doesn’t like to make people sad.“Omi?” “Yeah?” “Nao said he likes you more than he likes the rest of the team. Don’t tell’em.” or atsumu is a single dad and kiyoomi can't help but fall for him.

you make my heart burn by myhopeisjhope (G) 9.2k // “What’s up with that awful expression?” Atsumu asked. He leaned against the counter with his hip, looking directly at Kiyoomi, his regular fox-line grin plastered on his face. Kiyoomi made eye-contact with him then, his eyebrows knotting in annoyance, but Atsumu was too interested in the cute pair of beauty marks above Kiyoomi’s eye to care about the glare that was sent his way. “What’s up with that awful hair?” Kiyoomi shot back. And that was exactly when Atsumu decided he liked the guy.

somewhere in the middle (i think we lied a little) by akanemnida (E) 4.3k // “Body worship,” Miya said instantly, after Kiyoomi asked him what he wanted as reward as the winner of their service ace competition. “I can do that,” Kiyoomi said with a frown. “God, you really are the vainest person on this planet—”Miya shook his head, smirking. “Nuh-uh, Omi-kun. I meant I wanted ‘ta worship ‘ya.”(Or: Sakusa and Atsumu and all the blurred lines in between.)

san'yō expressway, 6:17 pm by yamabato (T) 8.1k // Atsumu tilts his head to watch a slice of orange light bend over the impassive planes of Sakusa’s face. He is absolutely, ruthlessly beautiful. It makes Atsumu want to punch something—put his foot through the windshield—scream, maybe. Kiss him again, maybe. They have 344 kilometers to figure this one out.

affection by papertulips (G) 2.1k // "I gave you the key to my house for emergencies only." “This is an emergency.” “What?” Atsumu pouts, looking up at him with wide eyes that definitely work on Kiyoomi but he will never admit it. “I missed you.”

love could be labeled poison and we'd drink it anyways by myhopeisjhope (NR) 21.3k // "Huh?" is Atsumu's response, and it's seemingly the only thing the man could think of after the minute-long silence that stretched between them. "We should break up," Kiyoomi repeats, more clearly now. He doesn't let any emotion seep into his voice, keeping it neutral and detached, as if breaking up with Atsumu was the easiest thing ever, while in fact it's the complete opposite.

And I'll Ask for the Sea by meeks00 (T) 6.9k // When a couple of his teammates reveal that Atsumu has feelings for him, Sakusa doesn’t react well. It doesn’t help that Atsumu is his typical petty and salty self. --“Come on,” Atsumu is saying in a wheedling tone behind a bright grin. “Just stop,” Sakusa snaps suddenly. “Will you just leave me alone for once? I don’t even like you!”Normally, Sakusa’s words don’t phase Atsumu at all. He’ll talk over Sakusa or brush off any harsh words easily enough and might turn to someone else for the attention he apparently craves. But this time, Sakusa’s words seem to stop him cold, the smile freezing for just a moment on his face.

the Definition of Miya Atsumu, by Sakusa Kiyoomi by orphan_account (G) 4k // Miya Atsumu is a self-centred prick who thinks he's top shit. Underneath the word 'asshole' in the dictionary is a picture of his stupidly pretty face. Sakusa Kiyoomi's definition is, according to him, 100% correct, until he takes a closer look.

i’ll do anything you say (if you say it with your hands) by liliapocalypse (T) 7.6k // Seeing Sakusa stressed out, Atsumu writes random letters on Sakusa’s skin to soothe him during the team’s assisted stretches. Somewhere along the way, the touches shift from barely tolerable to something Sakusa actively craved for. One day, though, Atsumu accidentally writes a confession instead.

it ain't no matter of 'if' honey, it's just a matter of 'when' by irleggsy (M) 2.1k // With a beer in one hand and an accusatory pointer finger on the other, Sakusa slurred, shouted even, “Atsumu. If you wear those godforsaken cutoff camo jorts one more fucking time I’m breaking up with you.”Atsumu made a noise in his throat caught somewhere between a wheeze and a squawk that came out more of an avant-garde honk noise than anything else. He stared up at Sakusa with wide eyes, a bewildered smile just barely glued onto his face. Or: The MSBY Black Jackals go to a bar. Sakusa likes to run his mouth when he's drunk.

dog eat dog eat dog world by perennials (T) 8.4k // You are your first and only line of defense against the universe.

Who Could Have Seen This Coming? by crone_zone (M) 16.7k // Peering out the side of his eyes at the man walking beside him, Sakusa wondered why he’d impulsively changed his mind about his plans this evening when he’d noticed Miya’s reluctance. Surely he wasn’t worried about this asshole, was he?--In which Sakusa impulsively invites Atsumu over to his apartment when he sees he's upset and something entirely unexpected happens: he realizes he likes this asshole. Cue [off-camera]sex, mutual confessions, insecurity, and adorable losers who are opposite in all the right ways.

Miya Atsumu's unwavering love for Sakusa Kiyoomi and an unholy amount of terrible food analogies that should not have the right to Exist by aiviloti (G) 5.6k // Five times Miya Atsumu talks to (harasses) his friends and sibling because he has feelings for Sakusa and doesn't know what to do or how to deal with them and the one time he talks to Sakusa about it. “How do you make friends apart from showering them in praise?” Atsumu wails one night, and Osamu thinks, oh god, here we go again.

Sakusa's Secret Admirer by TwilaFrost (T) 20.2k // Every day after practice, Kiyoomi finds another letter inside his shoe locker. It's only every signed: -❤ He's determined to find this person. Is it crazy to fall in love with someone you've never met?

take what's yours and make it mine by claudusdiei (T) 5.9k // (this has a second fic hehe) atsumu falls in love four times in his life (or: in which atsumu gets his heart broken twice, has the self-awareness of a sober mule and really likes yellow tulips)

School Bus Yellow by yuuki (G) 4.9k // Atsumu has a crush on Sakusa, and it’s kind of ridiculous how much he likes a guy who wears ugly colored jackets and is afraid of germs.Though, Atsumu’s probably not all that great himself. He’s still figuring that part out.

show me how by emeraldpalace (G) 2.9k //��Sakusa isn’t sure when or how it happened, but the fact remains: Miya Atsumu has become a comfortable constant in his life.

touch me (i want you to) by melstar (G) 3.9k // He should have seen it coming, really. Spend six months tip-toeing around the line of domesticity with the team’s resident germaphobe, and there was no way he’d be able to think of the guy the same way anymore. Or, Atsumu touches Sakusa's arm once and thus begins a downward spiral into the inescapable jaws of attraction.

Dreaming of You, Talking About You by kitkatwrites (T) 1.1k // Osamu learns that Atsumu talks in his sleep, especially about a certain wing spiker from Tokyo.

If your world falls apart, I'd start a riot by Serendipity (jenjaemrens) (NR) 3.1k // "It was Atsumu who was the older brother, but it was Osamu who was more protective of him. He would always protect Atsumu from things around them that could hurt him. "Or, the story of Sakusa Kiyoomi and Miya Atsumu through the eyes of Miya Osamu.

but soft what light by min_mintobe (T) 2.1k // "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day, Bokkun—" Atsumu drawls, "—hot. "In which Miya Atsumu woos Sakusa Kiyoomi by (gratuitously, seductively) quoting Shakespeare. One-shot.

sakusa kiyoomi's fixation on (miya atsumu's) lips by catsoncocaine (E) 3.7k // Everything about Atsumu is fucking beautiful, but there is one specific part of his that is like kryptonite for Kiyoomi. It is both his curse and his remedy, rendering him useless and yet egging him on to move at the same time. Kiyoomi hates it as much as he loves it.

The Jacket In Your Closet by dai_naning (T) 8.6k // According to the gossiping players around him, Miya Atsumu is an asshole. He's an incredible player in court and an obnoxious person off the court. He taunts people, points out their weakness, and doesn't give a shit if he's disliked or not. Some even say his teammates ostracize him. Sakusa looks at Miya Atsumu and can only see a player who keeps his eyes firmly forward, demanding the same to the players who want to stay on the court. Sakusa can't fault him for that. (That doesn't erase the fact that he's an asshole though. And that he's still the one who gave a jacket to a stranger.)

sakusa kiyoomi is....an uncle? by miyaudrey (T) 5.9k // “Oh, by the way, my nieces and nephews are going to be there.” “Your what now?” Or, Atsumu finds out three hours prior to a Sakusa family gathering that Kiyoomi is an uncle.

Confessions of a V-League Setter by Anubis_2701 (T) 3.3k // "Never?" Sakusa's lips thinned. "No, never. Now stop talking to me." Or, Atsumu discovers that Sakusa Kiyoomi, germaphobe and reluctant heartthrob of the Black Jackals, has never been confessed to before. He decides to change that.

Touch Me by cajynn (E) 3k // Sakusa actually likes being touched but he's very picky when it comes to who and how. When the who turns out to be Miya Atsumu he has a crisis.

Please Stop Crying by dauwtrappen (G) 2.9k // Friday starts off well until it doesn’t and Kiyoomi can hear something crash, feel something snap inside him when Miya, about to set him up for a quick attack, suddenly starts crying in the middle of their three-on-three. Kiyoomi doesn’t even react when the ball bounces off his head, doesn’t cringe when his face is smushed against the net briefly because he forgets to land in front of the it. He’s too shocked, too appalled with the tears pouring out from Miya’s eyes to care.

I can't take much more of your hesitating by playexodus (T) 2.7k // The curved sides of Atsumu’s pecs peek through that absurd tank top at just the right angle. Sakusa swallows. “Your entire chest is hanging out of that shirt. We’re in public. You could at least pretend to be a decent, morally upright person. Not to mention that this Los Angeles beach boy aesthetic is terrible on you.”Glancing back down at Atsumu’s chest to glare at his sharp, glistening collarbones is a bad idea. Sakusa wills his eyes to stay fixated on Atsumu’s face. As it turns out, this too, is a bad idea. “Oh?” Atsumu turns his half-lidded gaze onto Sakusa, the corners of his mouth curling. “Just to be clear: you’re definitely not enjoying the view then, Omi-Omi?”

curse breaking by allicanseeispink (T) 9.2k // Nearing the fourth hour of the silent treatment, Kiyoomi’s already frayed nerves began to whittle down to their last fibers. Today, it was raining. A proper Tokyo monsoon tantrum just shy of a full-blown typhoon that left puddles on sidewalks and fell from an angle so wicked it eluded umbrellas. It was raining and they haven’t spoken in almost four hours. (In which Sakusa wanders into the minefield that is Atsumu's feelings and tries not to blow things up.)

Summer Special: Omigiri by mika60 (T) 6.9k // Miya Osamu always comes up with the perfect marketing plan for his shop, even if it involves the two biggest idiots he knows.

a list of things sakusa kiyoomi hates by BrenH (T) 7.3k // “Just fuckin’ write shit down so ya remember it then. ”It was probably supposed to be a joke, just Osamu being as annoying and unhelpful as always, just reminding him that he shouldn’t have bothered trying to count on his brother for help. He’s forgotten about the whole thing until a few days later when he’s shopping and comes across a small, black notebook shaped like a cat, and his brother’s stupid suggestion flashes through his mind. Before he knows it, the cute little notebook is dropped in his basket, purchased, and in his possession. Or, the one where Osamu suggests Atsumu keep a notebook to track all the things Sakusa hates that he does, and he takes it further than he means to.

A Challenge, A Cat, and A Confession by Kitaa (G) 6.2k // Atsumu enjoys bothering Sakusa. One day he bothers him enough to be invited over to his apartment, only to discover that Sakusa has a plant, a cat, and a cute laugh.

Multiples Of Two by yuuki (G) 3.3k // He does everything in multiples of two. The day Sakusa Kiyoomi died, Atsumu checked his pulse twenty-eight times. Okay, so Sakusa Kiyoomi has never died. And Atsumu has never been close enough to Sakusa to be able to check his pulse. So what if Atsumu is just being dramatic again? He’s allowed to be dramatic when he’s in love with a man who has less emotion than a rock.

gold rush by sketchedsmiles (T) 18k // When the MSBY Black Jackals sign their newest team member, Sakusa Kiyoomi, Atsumu makes it his personal responsibility to befriend the indifferent player.

got sand in my eyes (and my shorts too, damn you miya) by luxnoctre (T) 4.7k // On one of their rare rest days, Hinata takes the part of the MSBY team to the beach. Chaos ensures. (or alternatively, do not piss off Sakusa when he is in the middle of relaxing)

mortality is found in the flesh of your sins by citronnes (M) 10.6k // dickhead one, sakusa kiyoomi. dickhead two, miya atsumu. neither understand how to communicate. Pray tell, why are you drawn to him?Are you drawn to him in the way he looks beautiful even when crying? When his eyes are red, shiny tears streaking down, lips quivering, is he beautiful?

This was v long ahahaha.... Anyway, is this finished? No LOL, but I’ll just make small additions via reblogs (?) over time. Maybe :) Sorry if you wanted me to ramble on about SakuAtsu,,,, slide into my messages/asks for that LOL. Maybe over time I’ll add the commentary from other posts I make in the future :’)

#sakuatsu #haikyuu fanfic rec #haikyuu fic recs #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #hq fic rec #anime #manga #sakuatsu fic recs #i'm a lazy person #also if you saw me saying i was gonna post kyouhaba #no you didnt #like i just said #lazy #there are a lot of fics in that one #anyway #all of these are really good #like i couldnt not put them all #ya know?

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ickle-ronniekins · 5 years ago

Text

just the girl

request from nonnie!!! “Hello gorgeous! I love your writing! Could I please get a George one where the reader is younger(like harry) and she is kind of shy but George loves her and flirt with her but she thinks he is just messing with her?”

word count: 4.4k

pairing: george x hufflepuff fem!reader

A/N: okay i strayed a biiiiit and didn’t make her like suuuuper shy but i definitely made her oblivious and i hope that’s okay?? also, i’ve had “just the girl” by the click five stuck in my head whilst writing this so that’s where the title idea/end dialogue come from lol

tag list: @mintlibri @georgeweasleyx @seppys-return-to-madness @fopdoodledane @fredd-weasley @iprobablyshipit91 @darling-details @laneygthememequeen @lupinsx @keoghans @helloallthethingsilove @bobduncanlover @dreamer821 @feffffffy @the-hufflepuff-of-221b @62442-am | send me a quick message if you’d like to be added darlings!

The only thing to ever distract George Weasley from his schoolwork has been pranking and mischief; it’s always been that way, ever since he was born, with his twin by his side. But now, he thinks, watching you across the Great Hall after not having seen you due to a very long summer holiday, everything else might just need to be put on the back burner.

How had he never noticed you in this light before? A thought crosses his mind now: he’s been far too preoccupied with creating types of chaotic mischief across the castle. Maybe he needs to rethink his priorities a bit. It’s not that he’s never thought about girls: hell, he thinks about them nearly all the time. But not like this. He’s never been so captivated in his entire life.

Your smile is lighting up nearly the entire Hall; how everyone at every table isn’t staring at you is beyond him. George can hardly help himself; his eyes are glued to you. His friends notice this and someone punches him in the arm, earning a sharp yell and a glare from him.

“Ow,” he says through gritted teeth after coming back to reality. He groans at what’s coming. He then turns to Fred, who’s laughing a bit, and says, “You’re a right git, you know that?”

“Oi, go over there and talk to her, would you?” Fred suggests, making the entire group of rowdy Gryffindors roar with laughter, “or at least quit the staring—you’re making yourself rather obvious, you know.”

George feels his throat tighten as he sinks into his seat; next to him, Ron is giggling quietly into his cup of porridge. “Go with the latter, mate—stop looking at her, would you? Merlin! You’re going to frighten the poor girl.”

He feels his heart begin to pound a bit harder against his ribcage; he hates feeling nervous—probably more than he hates sitting through Potions class. He swallows thickly, turns to his sister and says quietly, “Oi, Gin, you and Luna are friendly with Y/N, right?”

Ginny looks up from her bowl of cereal and nods her head before shooting a cheeky grin at her brother.

“You’ve spent quite some time with her before then, yeah?”

“Yeah, of course,” Ginny replies, taking a swig of her drink, “but so have you, you git. She hangs out with us all the time. You’ve known one another since your third year.”

George frowns. “Yeah, but.. I don’t know her nearly as well as you. Always sort of gravitates toward you, doesn’t she? She’s sort of.. turned off by my pranks a little bit.”

“Then stop the pranking,” Ginny winks.

George lets out a scoff. “Right. D’you not know me but at all?”

“It’s not that she’s turned off, George,” Ginny tells him and he feels himself relax a bit. She scoops up some more cheerios onto her spoon, “her life just doesn’t revolve around pranking people. She’s sort of shy. But I promise, she gets a rise out of your mischief.”

“She does?”

Ginny rolls her eyes as she entertains the idea that her brother might quite possibly be in love.

“Yeah, she does, so—talk to her then, would you?” Ginny tells her brother, taking a long swig of her drink. “She’s on the Hufflepuff team this year! New Chaser, she is. There, already have something to chat about other than pranking, alright?”

You? Quidditch? Girl of his dreams, you are. That aspect excites him. What he’s afraid of, he thinks of now, is trying to get you to open up to him. Maybe it won’t be as difficult as he thinks, considering you’ve known one another for quite some time now. A smile tugs at the edges of his lips when he watches your head fall back as you laugh—a laugh he can’t hear, but wants too more than anything else.

If there’s one thing George Weasley loves, it’s a challenge.

— -

George is finding it quite difficult to spend any time with you, much to his dismay. Not only are you in a different house, but you’re two years younger which means you’ve got absolutely no classes together. He reckons that Herbology wouldn’t be as boring if you were in class with him. He frowns at the thought.

So when he sees you rounding the bend in the corridor one day after emerging from an afternoon Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson, he immediately seizes his chance for a chat.

“Oi, Georgie!” Fred calls as George leaves him, Ron, Harry and Neville in his dust, “where’re you off to, then?”

“Sorry boys,” George calls back, winking, “Have got a few things to take care of—meet you later in the common room.”

He leans against the wall and watches you, a dazed sort of grin grows on his face when he notices that smile again. He feels a pang in his heart when he thinks of just how long it’s taken him to really notice it.

You meet his gaze and clutch your books tighter into your chest; when you pass him, he ignores a few other Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws by your side, acting as if you’re the only two in the corridor. “Hey, beautiful.”

You roll your eyes and can’t help but smile. “Hi, George,” you reply sweetly, not stopping to hold a conversation. He’s quick on his feet, though, and follows you down the other end of the hallway. He feels poorly for you when he notices that you’re headed for the dungeons. “Good summer holiday?”

“Pretty good—happy to be back, though. And you?”

You ignore his question and wiggle your eyebrows at him. “Not getting into any trouble already, are we?”

“Not currently, dunno about later.. too early to tell,” he smiles a bit smugly, tugging on your arm and pulling you back, leaving your friends walking toward the dungeons without you. You turn around, now face to face with him, and he’s leaning casually against the wall, his arms folded across his chest.

“Better be careful—I hear Snape’s just dying to give out detentions. In a right foul mood, he is.. and it’s only the first week.”

“Shame you’re heading to Potions, then.”

“Would much rather be out on the pitch, mind you.”

“Oh yeah,” George replies, suddenly remembering what Ginny had told him, “how’s it feel then? Heard you’re one of the new Chasers this year. Heard you’re pretty wicked.”

“Yeah?” you raise your eyebrows and George can’t help but feel his insides constrict at your glistening eyes. “What else have you heard?”

He laughs a bit, running a hand through his messy hair. “That Gryffindor’s got a run for their money now.”

“Glad to hear my skills are being spoken about so highly amongst the houses.”

George is loving this; you’re a lot less shy than he remembers—nothing at all like you were when you two first met. Maybe more has changed over the summer that he doesn’t know about yet. His heart’s thundering at the thought. “Don’t think for a second we’re going to take it easy on you.”

There it is—that laugh he’s been dying to hear. He’s nearly putty in your hands at the sound of it. Luckily, though, George is pretty good at hiding his skittishness and replacing it with a flirtatious grin or banter. He bites down on his lip to keep from grinning like mad when you say, “Do your worst then, George.”

The bell rings suddenly, making you both jump, signaling five minutes until the beginning of the next lesson. You raise your eyebrows and nod toward the dungeons, “Better get going. Don’t want the wrath of Snape upon me.” You grin a bit and walk backwards down the empty corridors and George is nearly losing it at how bloody adorable you are, “See you later?”

“Yeah,” he says, confidence engulfing him, “see you.”

He can’t help but shake his head in admiration when he watches you turn back around, sling your arm behind your back and wiggle a few fingers at him in a wave as you vanish down the staircase.

— -

“Hey—what the bloody hell was that all about this afternoon? Thought you two were supposed to cause some type of diversion on the fifth floor corridors after lunch? You were nowhere to be seen!”

Ron’s face turns sour as his elder twin brothers just laugh at this. To him, Fred replies, “Think of our mischief as being on.. a semi-hiatus. Few days, tops.”

“Merlin,” Ginny mutters, looking down at her shoes, “what did you two do already?”

“We didn’t do anything,” Fred tells his sister. He leans back into the couch and relaxes. “Georgie here has some other things he needs to take care of first.”

Harry and Ron make obnoxious sounding kissing noises; Ginny, on the other hand, just rolls her eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re actually going after her.”

George raises his hands in confusion. “You’re the one who told me to go and talk to her more.”

“I didn’t think you were actually serious!”

“Ah well—should pay more attention to your older brother, then, shouldn’t you?” George asks, looking rather smug. He takes a long swig of his tea before placing his feet up on the table in front of him. “Besides, she’s a lot less shy than you seem to remember, Gin.”

Ginny rolls her eyes again, mutters something that slightly resembles a whatever, you git, and turns back to the book she’s clutching very tightly in her hands.

“So,” Ron begins again, turning his attention toward the twins, “Few days, you say?”

“Yes,” the twins chorus together. Fred continues, “Really, though, we’re trying to steer clear of Snape for the time being—bloke seems to show up wherever we go, he’s in a right awful mood and I, for one, don’t feel like starting out the new year with a weekend full of detentions under my belt.”

Under her breath, Ginny mutters, “because that’s so different than every other year?” George playfully chucks a throw pillow at her, and is delighted to see her finally chuckle a bit.

“What’s the plan then, George?” Harry asks, shuffling a deck of cards in his hands. “I reckon you’re going to take it easy on her now that she’s our opponent, yeah?”

The boys erupt in laughter, prompting Ginny to move to the other side of the common room to immerse herself in conversation with Hermione, Parvati, and Katie. To the group, George just replies, “Haven’t got a plan, really. Just going to try and wing it.”

— -

Harry lets out a huff, looking positively dreadful. He’s crouched down behind the twins at the entrance to the changing rooms and he says to the two of them, “This has got to be illegal, hasn’t it?”

“Nah—not illegal if we don’t get caught,” George winks, not taking his eyes off of the pitch.

“Relax, mate, it’s fine,” Fred says in a hushed whisper, “that’s why we’ve got the Invisibility Cloak. Merlin, Harry, it’s like you’ve never snuck out before.”

The twins laugh and Harry relaxes; sneaking out is nothing new to him.

They should be in the Great Hall, working on their assignments due for their lessons, but George had insisted on coming to spy on the competition. Fred nearly yelped at the idea; Harry needed some persuading. But honestly, George doesn’t care at all about the competition. He only cares about you.

He’s enamored at your Chasing skills—you’re a lot faster than he originally thought, getting the quaffle through the hoops each and every time. He’s feeling a bit nervous at how Gryffindor is going to bear with you and the other new Chaser and new Beater. It’s probably the best team Hufflepuff’s had in years.

“Eh, new Beater isn’t that good,” he hears Fred saying to him and Harry, but he’s not paying a lick of attention, “and they’ve still got the same Seeker as last year, and you know his weaknesses, Harry, so I reckon we should be alright.”

Everyone lands on the pitch with ease and heads right toward the changing rooms. George can’t help but notice the way the yellow color of your robes makes your eyes sparkle even more. Fred then says, “Ready to go then? Have got a massive Charms essay to finish up.”

But George ignores this; instead, he lifts the cloak from over him and is again visible to anyone in the surrounding area. He laughs at whispered yelps from both Fred and Harry, and he swears he hears a, If we’re caught I’m going to murder you, mate!

He frowns at this but continues to ignore it; adrenaline is coursing through his body like a rapid fire. He walks toward the group with his hands in his pockets, looking as if he’s just been out for a casual stroll, when once again, you meet his gaze.

“Fancy meeting you here.”

“Seeing you two times in one week?” you ask, placing a hand on your hip. “Aren’t I a lucky one.”

George smirks at you and wants nothing more than to sneak you into the Gryffindor common room later tonight. This scheme, he thinks, would definitely, probably, most certainly earn him detentions for weeks, if not months. “Well I may have heard you were out here, came to see you.”

“Is that so?”

“I just can’t help myself.”

“Not spying on us, are you, Georgie?”

“Spying? Never,” he replies gleefully. Making you laugh is just about his favorite thing. He nods toward the pitch, glad to see that the rest of the team has made it inside the changing rooms, leaving you two alone, “how’d practice go?”

“You Gryffindors better prepare—best lineup we’ve had in years. I daresay we might actually be able to get our hands on the cup.”

George laughs at this, not at all caring about the fact that if Fred had heard you say this, he’d nearly be up in arms at the thought of Gryffindor losing. George, however, doesn’t mind that much. Not if it means he’d get you in return. “I’d like to see you try.”

You release your hair from it’s ponytail and George cannot shake the feeling that he’s got something very sharp lodged in his throat. He clears it once, twice, three times before finally feeling it subside. You grin, elbow him playfully and say, “Don’t worry. I will.”

— -

Hogsmeade is absolutely swarmed with students, it being the first trip of the school year, and all. In fact, it’s so crowded, that George can hardly see through the sea of people. He follows his brothers into Honeydukes to pick up some much needed candy items before heading back to Hogwarts for the evening feast.

“I reckon you can never have too many chocolate wands,” Ron says brightly, pulling as many as he can off of the shelves. Quite a sweet tooth he has. Then he notices some caramel cobwebs and grabs a fistful of those, too.

“Ronald, leave room for dinner, would you?” Hermione teases him as he pays for his goodies; she then steals a wand out of his hand and bites into it, smiling giddily. Ron turns a bright shade of pink.

“Zonko’s next?” Fred asks the crowd, examining the sugar quill he’s just purchased. He then gingerly sticks it into his bag and heads toward the exit. “C’mon—we’ve got to get back soon and I’ve a lot I need to purchase still.”

And so everyone follows Fred from Honeydukes and back out onto the very crowded street. George is now losing all hope of spotting you, and Ginny’s been no help—when asked if you’d be here today, Ginny merely shrugged her shoulders, noting that she hadn’t been able to talk with you much recently due to your very different schedules as well as being in different houses. George huffs a bit and then freezes: he notices you, standing with two of your friends, in a line outside of Madam Puddifoot’s.

Harry notices this and slings an arm around George’s shoulders, “Mate, you’ve got to be kidding.”

“No self respecting bloke will step foot into Madam Puddifoot’s,” Ron chimes in, mouth full of chocolate. “I mean, it’s meant for couples who need to spend less time snogging and more time coming up for air.”

George agrees; he slams his hands in his pockets and keeps his eyes on you. Just the sight of the tea shop alone is making him cringe; of course he wants to be with you. But George Weasley isn’t much of a corny type of bloke, and he reckons you’re not that type of girl, either.

“Yeah, but she’s not with anyone, is she? A guy, I mean,” George tells them, shrugging them off and handing Fred his purchases. “Hang onto that for me, will you? Thanks. See you all back at the castle.”

As George nearly skips across the cobblestone, Fred shakes his head and throws his hands up in surrender. “Oh, yeah, sure thing—I’d be more than happy to carry all this junk for you, mate.”

George just ignores this; he can feel his heart begin to flutter when he watches you run your fingers over the spine of a notebook you’re holding—a new item from Scrivenshaft’s, he’s sure of it. He grins to himself before quietly stepping behind you, and gently taps you on the shoulder. “Didn’t take you for a Madam Puddifoot’s type.”

You whirl around, obviously a bit frightened by his sudden appearance. You bring a hand swiftly to your heart and say through some nervous laughter, “Blimey! You gave me a fright.” The two of you begin to laugh and George notices your two friends peering at you both before erupting into whispers. You turn back to him and shake your head as if to say, Ignore them, and continue on, “I reckon this is about the cheesiest place in all of Hogsmeade! But I have to admit—I’m a sucker for her tea.”

“So not here on a date, are you?”

“A date? Merlin, no! The reason I even step foot in this place, besides the tea, is to seemingly laugh at all of the couples in here—have you ever taken a peek around, George? Some of them are so clueless it’s actually painful.”

He’s nearly melting at your banter, and is surprisingly uplifted to hear that you’re not the type of girl who is looking to be all sickeningly sweet on a date in what’s been deemed as the most romantic spots for young couples. He reckons you’d much rather be throwing quaffles through hoops instead.

Suddenly, the door opens and a jingle signals the entrance of the next group—you, George, and your two friends. He raises his eyebrows and says, “Well let’s take a peek then, shall we?”

And it’s exactly as you’ve described, and exactly what he expects: couples, hardly drinking their tea, but instead peering lovingly into one another’s eyes as if in some type of hypnotized trance, or with their lips locked together without coming up for any air. You turn back to George, wiggle your eyebrows at him and begin to laugh, keeping your voice low. “What’d I tell you?”

“Merlin,” he replies breathlessly, spotting Seamus Finnegan tucked away in a corner with a Ravenclaw. “It’s worse than I thought.”

“Yeah, but—” you stop, handing him a cup of steaming hot liquid, “try the tea! It’s worth it alone to deal with all these people in love.” Your face turns sour at your own words, and you and George find yourself falling into laughter yet again. George swears he hears whispering from your two friends a few feet away.

“You’re right, it’s delicious,” he replies, not breaking your gaze, “and yeah, it’s… a bit much,” you giggle sweetly and turn to look at two young Slytherins attached at the hip, “but I reckon if you’re with the right person, it’s not so bad.”

A soft smile spreads itself across your face, and George can feel his insides go warm and gooey. “Oh yeah? Going soft on me?”

He sips his tea again lightly, poking you gently in the ribs. “With you? I just might be.”

— -

When George pops through the portrait hole that evening, a very smug grin plastered onto his face, it only takes the lot about five and a half seconds before bombarding him with questions and a bit of teasing.

“Oh lookout, there he is now—been snogging her in Puddifoot’s this whole time, have you?” Fred frowns and chucks a throw pillow at him, but George is quick and catches it.

“Nah, he couldn’t be, mate,” Ron tells Fred from the ground as he leans against the couch, “you’ve got to properly ask a girl out before getting to that level, and we know Georgie hasn’t gotten there yet, has he?” Raucous laughter echoes throughout the common room from him, Fred, and Harry.

“Leave George alone,” Hermione and Ginny scold together. Then Hermione continues, “Just because you three don’t know how to properly treat a woman—”

George stands up a little straighter. “Ah—cheers, Hermione.”

“So you’ve done it, then?”

“Reckon my dating life isn’t really any of your business, Ron,” George replies cheekily. He then quickly heads up to the boys dormitory, changes into comfortable clothes, and comes back down, only to climb back out through the portrait hole and into the corridors. “Hey, where’re you off too?” Ginny calls.

George ignores this; he jumps back out, not paying a lick of attention to the singing of the Fat Lady, and is delighted to see that you’re still standing there, leaning against the wall, picking at the sleeves of your sweater. You look up and grin; he’s beginning to feel those nerves again. “Ready?” you ask.

The two of you head straight for the pitch, now surely very dark—it’s almost after hours, but he doesn’t mind, and he’s happy that you don’t either. Whilst spending most of the afternoon making a mockery out of those couples in Puddifoot’s, you and George had fallen into an animated conversation revolving Quidditch, which seems to be a lot about what you two discuss these days.

You’re both hovering above the ground; the pitch is nearly completely black. George can only see you in the moonlight shining down on you both from the night sky. You say to him, blocking the goal posts, “Do your worst, Weasley.”

He’s not used to acting as Chaser, and you, a Keeper. But despite his ruddy awful tries at launching the quaffle through the goal posts, and your creative, albeit a bit dangerous, attempts at blocking these potential goals, you two still end up falling into a fit of hysterics and nearly falling off of your brooms. George could stay here for hours, into the dead of night, not a care in the world..

He feels his heart begin to race a bit and frowns at the sight of a few lights turning off within the castle. It’s evident to you both, now, that it’s far past curfew, and if Snape catches you both out here, you’re done for. Without saying anything, the both of you land on the grass and slowly make your way back toward the castle. “I reckon Keeper is definitely not on my list of Quidditch skills,” you tell him, laughing lightly.

He shrugs and grins at you, “You’re better than you think you are.”

“I should play with you more often—full of compliments, you are.”

“Can you blame me? I just—you’re kind of brilliant—”

“Oooh,” you say a bit teasingly, jabbing him in the ribs, “you about to confess your love for me, or something?”

He just smiles.

A bit taken aback, you ask skittishly, “A-are you?”

His grin deepens at your flustered words. “Well, yeah, I am.” he says plainly, as if it’s obvious.

Your eyes dart back and forth between him and the castle. It’s obvious to him that you’re feeling a bit nervous now. “Are you serious?”

George laughs haughtily, placing his broom down on the ground as he inches closer to you. “Haven’t I been making myself obvious?”

“I—I mean,” you stammer, tripping over your words as if the sight of him is making you tongue tied. There she is, he thinks. Shy, sweet girl you’ve always been. “You’ve.. you’ve always been flirty! I kind of just thought it was a joke?”

He pretends to fall back dramatically, and is delighted to hear you laugh a bit. “That hurts, Y/N, I was kind of hoping you’d be able to tell that I’m mad for you.”

A grin tugs at your lips, and George feels his nerves begin to subside at the dazed look on your face. “Soooo, you weren’t joking?”

“I’m always joking, love,” he says playfully, now just centimeters from you, and he snakes an arm around your waist, “just not about this.”

You swallow thickly, and now he’s leaning in. His voice is nearly a whisper.

“If you want me to stop—”

“Don’t stop,” you tell him breathlessly.

When his lips touch yours, he feels a chill declare war on his bones; it’s as if all of the adrenaline in the world is surging through his body at this exact moment. He’s quite sure he’s short-circuited, and he feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as your fingers creep gently across his shoulder blades and into his hair. It’s slow and tender and soft, the way first kisses should be, the way he’s been imagining it.

Both of you pull away gently, and he hovers for a moment and smiles before pulling away fully. Your arms are still draped over his shoulders and his hands tighten around your hips; he’s definitely not going to sleep tonight, not after this, and he fully plans on going to class in the morning with some kind of hangover. “It’s crazy how you went from being just some girl—”

You grin lazily and he feels as though he’s about to spontaneously combust.

“Now you’re just the girl,”

You roll your eyes at this. “Ugh, has Madam Puddifoot’s made you corny, now?”

“Nah, it’s you,” he replies, pressing his forehead to yours, “you just bring out this side of me.”

You shoot a smug smile his way. “Hmm,” you begin, pausing to consider the conversation and think for a moment. You blink a few times, and he’s a right mess at the feeling of your eyelashes brushing his cheekbones, “can’t believe the effect I have on you. Can’t bloody wait for our match then, huh? Try not to get so flustered, Georgie.”

He grins against your lips and before kissing you fully again, he says, “Can’t make any promises, love.”

reblogs & feedback are always appreciated, thank you for reading and requesting loves x

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