#this is post return pre wedding

[angeart]

How dare Link correctly predict my reaction to teases, how dare (<3) YES I wanna know what prompted the upset, what well meaning thing went so wrong D: And that bit about still hoping to be loved breaks my heart for them

-🎀

the bit about still hoping to be loved broke my heart too, and that's why i needed to include it <3

so, about hermits wanting to help them. one smaller example is them taking a look at scar's tattered wings and suggesting that maybe they could help fix them. which is good!

but this comes after scar having his wings like this for about a year, and it took a long time for him to learn to accept them as they are. he's no longer ashamed of them, seeing them simply as a part of himself now. (the same way his scars have always been)

and, sure, he will still take a chance at having them healed, but it still rubs him wrong, in a way. even though it's a kind, well-meaning offer. because it proposes that he needs to be fixed.

but a whole big issue stems from something else.

we know scar and grian have changed.

grian, in particular, flinches a lot and seems scared. scar, on the other hand, often shields grian, and calls on his vex traits to intimidate the danger away, showing he's not afraid to fight. (he is afraid. he's constantly afraid.) and they're both awfully codependent, clinging to each other and isolating from everyone else.

[1,7k rambles and ~3,2k rp snippets below the cut]

one of the things they leaned into in that other world was their hybrid traits. and they show in the way they interact with each other, you know? the way they express trust and love and know what the other one needs.

well, scar is a vex.

we know there's a mating bite, but that's not everything. him and grian indulge in a lot of biting and blood related stuff. all consensual! grian is a little freak so he likes it!

it's something the two of them do, privately and intimately. it's safe, it's fun, it's theirs. them being insanely in love and ready to give all of themselves over. lose all of control on both sides, at least for a moment, in a world that hardly allows such a thing.

but here's the issue: the others don't know anything about any of it. they don't know what scar and grian have been through. they don't know anything about vex instincts or mating rituals. they don't understand anything about this new thing.

so when they see grian timid, bruised and bitten? and they know that scar seems more violent now, sharp-fanged and clawed?

let's just say they get concerned. and stage a bit of an intervention.

they just want to make sure that grian is okay! it... should be a good thing. except they've separated them and are now cornering grian, asking all these questions and voicing all these assumptions. and it's a bit awful, actually.

grian is pressed into having to explain that yeah, actually, he wanted all of that. that it's love.

but him naming the so obvious damage love just rings more alarm bells. and maybe someone asks him if it's a form of self harm, to allow that to happen to him? like, if grian seeks it out, is it self destructive? is that why he craves it?

and sort of, him and scar spiral about this in different ways.

grian struggles with untangling his way out of it, because what if they're right? what if he subconsciously sought harm? but he liked it? is it wrong to enjoy it? he knows that he had his moments when he was actively trying to bring himself damage. mostly aimed at his wings—plucking out his feathers and such. but is this just another thing like that? a substitute damage of sorts? was he just oblivious this whole time?

grian never had a previous relationship experience, so he really can't tell what is love. where does it end and Something Bad begins? he associates the bites with love, but is that bad? is he wrong? would it feel different if someone else showed him that love is something else? did he just manipulate himself into feeling like this and now he's in too deep?

at least he knows scar would never hurt him if grian says no. if grian doesn't want it. but... if grian wants it... is it self destructive? is that what it means? or maybe he was just chasing the aftermath? the soft care (that scar'd offer regardless)?

his mind is a mess and he can't figure out what his real feelings in this all are. he doesn't know how to figure it out. he gets really confused and worried and scared. (he's terrified that they're right, not necessarily for himself, but because of what that'd do to scar.) (he's scared that scar will blame himself over this. that no matter the outcome, this is inevitably going to mess something up between the two of them.)

in the meanwhile, scar feels like a monster. like maybe he was doing something wrong this whole time. was he enabling something horrible? was he genuinely hurting grian this whole time, unaware?

because he's a vex, and it makes sense to want this on his end, but grian is an avian, and... maybe scar should've questioned it more? shouldn't have been so eager to indulge? did he do something irreparably cruel without meaning to?

through this all, he reassures grian it's okay to take a break from it, or even to completely stop. it's fine! it's always been fine! but despite that, their feelings continue to spiral, caught in a maze they can't escape.

it used to be so simple. back in the vex commune. scar never had to doubt himself and the way they express their love. not when it came to this.

and now suddenly it seems so different. so vile and wrong and horrible. people are genuinely concerned and scar and grian wonder, separately, if maybe they're right to be?

... eventually they both hurtle towards a breaking point. and scar decides he needs to talk to someone about it. and grian decides he needs to be alone for a moment, becoming overwhelmed, needing some space to think.

i really want to tell you about what happens in the talk scar has with the others, but i can't. not quite yet.

anyway, this is where the breakdowns come in. (yes. multiple.)

first is scar's during the conversation he has. he gets to hear a lot of good, wise, reassuring things, but ultimately, he still needs to hear from grian. he's been trying so hard not to influence grian's conclusion to all of this, but. he needs to know grian's thoughts, once grian is ready.

grian is not ready. he's been growing so emotionally worn out from all of this, so volatile and fragile. it's all a bit Too Much.

scar messages him, checking up on him.

are you okay?

and

i'm here waiting for you whenever you come back

and

but i'll come find you if you want me to

and

i love you

... but here's the thing, right? neither scar nor grian are used to comms anymore. so grian doesn't read any of that.

they regress back to what they know.

scar howls.

grian chirps.

and only then does scar's comm ping.

come.

zero hesitation, scar unfolds his wings and jumps off the balcony, rushing towards where that chirp came from. he's being called. he's being wanted.

he'd go anywhere for grian.

he finds grian perched atop a tree. struggles to climb up, but never falters. because grian's now starting to cry, and scar needs to be there.

tucked safely into scar's gentle, loving arms, grian breaks down.

--

with a hitched sob, grian falls forwards into scar's arms, burrowing easily into the warmth and familiarity and security.

he wants to say he's sorry. he's sorry this is so hard for him. he's sorry he can't untangle this; sorry he can no longer tell which are his feelings and which are just things people have suggested he might feel. he's sorry he's making this so difficult. he's sorry he's worrying everyone.

but words evade him as scar's arms provide just enough safety for his guards to crumble lower, making him just sob instead.

--

and believe it or not, somewhere in the midst of this (hey do have a proper talk, if a bit tear-drenched) is scar's second breakdown. (grian's time to hold him!!!) that's where the rp snippet in the previous ask is from. and you'll get more of that in a second.

first i just need to tease the aftermath, because i'm a menace.

after crying and comforting their hearts out, they fly(!!!) back. there's immense relief to wind in grian's feathers, and a dangerous edge of the feeling of freedom it brings, wanting to soothe all the cracks on his soul... but the truth is, his soul is still cracked. and he's still depleted. he knows he's still hovering over something so incomprehensibly fragile. that the smallest prod will set him off and break him again.

they arrive at their nest—scar first, to warn their company not to ask questions, grian second.

it doesn't stop it from happening. grian was right: the smallest thing can set him off.

so he has another breakdown, possibly a bigger one, drawing on far deeper hurt that screams and tears at his heart. and plunges all three other people in the room into breakdowns of their own <3333

(yes that's the part we can't talk about. yet.)

aNYWAY!!! how about some rp bits.

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

SCAR

Despite Grian’s crying being entirely contagious— or perhaps Scar is just simply too empathetic and emotional himself— Scar’s had practice with consoling his sweet bird. He knows what he ought to do here. 

He tightens his hold until it’s snug and secure, then pressed a few little kisses to whatever part of Grian’s head he can reach.

And then he talks.

“I knew you’d be up in a tree somewhere.” His voice wobbles a bit, but it’s alright. “I wanted to give you some time… I missed you though. Like immediately.”

He chuckles softly, knowing their bond borders on codependent, even if it’s something they’ve worked on since they’ve gotten home. Still, it’s okay to poke fun at it, he thinks. It’s okay to admit the truth.

--

GRIAN

grian's sobs quiet down a little as scar talks, energy redirected to hook into the familiar rumble of his slightly quivery voice, sniffling as he listens to what scar has to say. 

it's sometimes hard to decipher the meaning of sentences when he gets like this, but scar doesn't seem to expect an answer; he's not asking him anything, and grian's grateful for being given time, a grace period where he can just cling and cry and calm down while scar holds him. 

he laugh-sobs at the note that it was obvious he'd be in a tree. he's given scar a lot of hard time in the past until he figured out that lesson, but now he always knows unfailingly where to search when grian's heart needs him after cowardly isolation.

he comes every time. he comes and he finds him and he holds him. 

grian sniffles, despondent, burrowing tighter in. he chirps a little to encourage scar to go on, to keep talking; the sound of it is shaky, about to fall apart to pieces, but he thinks it still counts. it's still something. a participation, not leaving scar stranded and alone in this.

--

OK LOOK WE HAVE TO SKIP AHEAD HERE BECAUSE [REDACTED] REASONS

--

GRIAN

grian hums again, fond and soft, slumped against scar with utmost trust. and then he finally says it. "'m sorry."

--

SCAR

"Hey, none of that, mister," Scar says, shaking his head into Grian's hair in more of a no than a nuzzle now. "It was a lot, it's okay. You needed a moment."

He places another kiss.

"And you knew I'd be here in a heartbeat when you were ready, right?" Scar grins sheepishly.

--

GRIAN

grian's hands trace idle patterns on scar's back as he gets comforted by words and another kiss. he closes his eyes, taking it in, before replying with a soft little "yeah."

-- 

SCAR

Scar purrs at the affection, openly so. "Doin' a little better now?"

--

GRIAN

grian nods, still right against scar, clingily pressed into him. "yeah, i... yeah."

--

SCAR

Scar doesn't budge, not interested in releasing his darling bird just yet. "...what's on your mind?" he prompts softly, hoping to get a glimpse at Grian's inner turmoil.

--

GRIAN

with eyes still closed, grian lets the pause linger just a moment, before replying with a quiet but honest, "right now? how nice this feels."

--

SCAR

Scar chuckles again, a little anxiety getting settled by that fact, though certainly not all. "Oh, well that's good, yes. I agree with that sentiment entirely."

--

GRIAN

"good," grian purrs, squeezing at scar. "'coz i don't wanna lose it."

--

SCAR

Scar's ears twitch, something awfully depressing in those few words. "Hey, no, never," he assures. "This is never going away, okay?" 

Since he seriously doubts cuddling is about to give anyone the wrong ideas.

--

GRIAN

grian has to swallow several times for his feelings to not go off the rails again. he takes a shaky breath, still squeezing at scar, as if he was afraid he might disappear. "... okay."

--

SCAR

"And neither am I!" Scar tacks on, even if it should go without saying. Even if it may be a little dramatic. But he thinks maybe Grian needs to hear that fact stated with absolute certainty. "I love you too dang much."

--

GRIAN

that gets grian to loosen his grip a little, enough to shuffle and look up. hair messy and eyes glistening and red rimmed, he looks up at scar with so much aching adoration, it feels like he might drown. 

"i think it's okay if— if we love each other in our own way," he says sheepishly. he ducks down, laying his head on scar's shoulder, feeling shy as his hands go back to tracing patterns on scar's lower back. "even if the others don't understand or agree." there's a precipice of a pause, and then the most timid little "... right?"

--

SCAR

Scar's heart stutters, and his ears flick up again with carefully optimistic anticipation at Grian's words. His eyes threaten to flood over again, but the tears feel different, more cathartic, less miserable. 

He tucks his head over Grian's again, brushing his cheek over his locks affectionately, daring to release a few hopeful tears as Grian says what he desperately hoped he might. 

"I..." he starts, still trying not to influence this decision if he can help it, but... "I think so. ...I mean it's—" He thinks of [REDACTED], and chuckles wetly, morphing them in his own Scar-silly way. "It's not really anyone else's business what we do in the bedroom, is it?"

--

GRIAN

grian's hands still against scar's back, simply holding him for a moment as he soaks up scar's nuzzles. there's wetness to them, something that makes grian's heart ache as he worries about all the possible meanings, but hopes against all hope that it's just scar getting positively emotional—a relief of sorts above all else. 

a small strained chuckle makes it past his lips, and he muffles it into a kiss that he presses into scar's shoulder. "right. exactly."

--

SCAR

Scar weakly smiles, giving Grian a squeeze. "...but seriously, I— you know it's okay if we stop, right? If you ever change your mind— and I mean your mind, nobody else's— then it's fine! But... I... yeah." Another squeeze. "I just want to be sure you know that."

--

GRIAN

there's a barely stifled sigh, but no hint of tension pools across grian's back. his hold remains still and gentle, his head idly leaning on scar's shoulder. "i know," he murmurs.

--

SCAR

"Good," Scar states, ducking lower so his forehead presses into Grian for a moment before releasing just enough so he could escape the big bear hug if he wanted. “... you know, [REDACTED]”

--

WE ARE ACTUALLY TAKING ANOTHER LEAP, ANOTHER SKIP, ANOTHER SCRIBBLED OUT SECTION. bear with us <33

--

SCAR

[REDACTED VERY REDACTED] “I mean, I had to learn all this vex stuff, too. It’s not… I mean it’s certainly not the most family-friendly sort of culture but that doesn’t mean it’s wrong, does it?”

--

GRIAN

grian blinks at that, lifting his head in attention. this really surprises him, for some reason. that [WOO REDACTED AGAIN WOW] 

"oh." he takes a moment, leaning slightly back, inviting scar's touch a little bit further. "yeah... yeah, i think he's—" he bounces the words around in his head again, then settles on: "it's a learning curve every way, isn't it? whenever there's new instincts and..." he skirts around the words mating rituals, feeling a faint warmth rise up to his cheeks. he looks away briefly, teething at his bottom lip as he thinks of all the worries he himself used to have, all the mistakes kane made, all the effort and talking and correcting it took for things to finally have it all sink in the proper way. 

he clears his throat, shyly looking back at scar, but then his gaze anchors and softens. his hand travels up from scar's chin, brushing through his hair, tucking a strand behind his ears. "it's not wrong."

--

SCAR

“It’s not?” Scar asks meekly, even though he was the one to propose so first. To have Grian confirm it is so much more important. Because even if they can agree it’s not wrong for Scar to have sought out these things, ultimately he wants it to be right for Grian as well.

Scar chews at his lip nervously, but still tilts toward the offered affection, absolutely weak to it.

--

GRIAN

"mmm." grian lets his fingers brush through scar's hair again, gentle with him at every step. "it's not wrong," he repeats softly.

--

SCAR

Scar opens his eyes, both of them glistening with potential tears, but he offers up a weak, wobbly smile, appreciating every graze of Grian’s fingers. “…is it— it’s not wrong for you either?”

--

GRIAN

grian takes in scar's expression and he leans in for a short kiss. "it's not wrong for me," he murmurs, right over scar's lips. 

and maybe he still feels confused, and maybe he still has some exploring and figuring out to do, just to really settle things in his heart, but he knows scar will be there with him every step of the way. just like he knows that [REDACTED] is right—scar is good for him. 

and he wants all of him.

--

SCAR

The tears fall alongside a pitiful little chuckle, but Scar leans right back in for another kiss, not caring at all for the wetness that streaks down his cheeks. 

They can match now. It’s fine.

“I… I’m—?” Scar falters, and he laughs again, ducking his head down in slight embarrassment. He can’t even bring himself to say it. To even imply that he was worried that he was wrong for Grian. “…okay.”

--

GRIAN

the sight of tears breaks grian's heart. still keeping one arm around scar, hoping it'd make him feel close and secure, he lowers his other hand from scar's hair to his cheek, gently collecting the wetness even as scar leans in for a kiss. (one that grian gladly gives.) 

even though scar doesn't finish his question, grian can connect the dots. he remembers the time when he himself thought he's not good for scar, and he knows how awful and heavy that self doubt was.

with utmost tenderness, he kisses scar's cheek, right in the path of wetness, while his fingers gently brush the tears on the other side. "scar." it's quiet, reverent. irredeemably loving.

he pulls away, wanting scar to look at him as he says this. his wings twitch, brushing over scar's, curling inwards towards him. pressing against scar's sides under scar's wings as grian lets go of his back in favour of cupping his face, thumbs brushing over cheeks.

"scar, you're good for me."

he strings up the words, slow and deliberate and certain.

--

SCAR

It’s Scar’s turn to break again, clearly, as his eyes water over and big, wet tears fall down his cheeks and collect over Grian’s hands. He doesn’t even have words to respond with, just wide, grateful eyes and wobbly lips that can’t decide between a cry or a smile. 

His hands also find their way over Grian’s, though one escapes to run his own thumb over Grian’s cheek in turn, still feeling the dampness there. It’s oddly comforting.

“…sometimes I worry the hermits don’t think that,” he admits, gaze flicking away as he tries to keep a strong facade. (Hard to do while he’s actively crying, but it could certainly be worse.)

--

GRIAN

"oh, scar." grian sighs, heartbroken, brows pulling into a pained frown upon hearing that admission. he can hardly bear this, knowing scar's been made to feel like this.

he leans in to press a kiss to his forehead, wings slinking further along, wrapping around scar right underneath his vex wings. he wants to cocoon them into warmth and safety, away from these treacherous feelings.

the hermits managed to somehow break both of them down, with nothing more than good intentions.

grian hates the uncertain, askew feeling that pushes bitter bile up his throat, telling him maybe they're not quite right for this place anymore. that they forgot how to belong, but nobody has caught up yet and still expects them to be their selves that they can no longer reach.

“you know [REDACTED I AM SO SORRY]” he attempts a smile, though it's hard. he tugs at scar, wanting to pull him in for a hug, tuck him underneath his own chin, all safe and protected, but he leaves it up to scar whether he wants that or needs more breathing room right now. 

"maybe they need time. i... i've been hiding away a lot and. honestly i don't think they can tell what's good for me anymore. not right now." it's hard to admit. "even if they mean well." but well-meaning that hurts both him and scar is just meddlesome. 

maybe they needed this though, in a way. it would be better if it came from a different place, subtler, gentler, but still. maybe they needed to work through exactly these feelings.

"anyone who says you're not good for me will get smacked," he threatens, remembering scar's (and kane's) offers to bite people who look at grian wrong, in a way returning the favour. "'coz they're wrong and they have no business spewing nonsense."

--

SCAR

Scar gladly takes up the offer to be smothered in affection, and he boldly chooses to corporealize his wings fully and gently tug them around the base of Grian's, knowing well that wing-on-wing contact is almost always acceptable. And right now that sort of thing brings immense comfort to him, too. It's something they both share, after all. A pair of wings and a pair of patched up hearts.

"I know they mean well..." Scar whines into Grian's chest this time, and though there's no cozy shawl to bury himself in, it's just as comforting. "but they don't know everything, and... and I know that's mostly on us, but god it's just... it's so much sometimes, Grian." 

It's not exactly pleasant to recall those memories. To try to explain just how horrific it was to their old friends. To look them in the eyes and admit that they're different now because they had to be. (And how they still hope to be loved despite it all.)

--

GRIAN

grian wraps scar up in his arms, holding him close. one hand in scar's hair, the other sliding down between his shoulderblades, rubbing at that point between his wings, unaware he's copying exactly what [REDACTED] did earlier.

the pressure of scar's wings over his own helps him settle a little, gives him comfort and courage through this glass-shards of a conversation.

"they don't know everything," he echoes quietly, kissing the top of scar's head before he leans his cheek on it, cradling him. "i just wish..." he closes his eyes and tugs at scar, holds him a little bit tighter. he doesn't really know how to finish that sentence; all the words feel like they're crashing and splintering over sharp cliffs.

all that's left in the rubble is a weary sense of defeat. "it is so much," he agrees. "it's so tiring to... they expect us to be..." he doesn't finish any of his sentences, but he wonders if scar understands anyway.

--

SCAR

Scar understands perfectly. He nods softly as he listens, lulled in by those soft touches, tears drying as he lets Grian’s presence fully engulf him.

“…they expect us to be the same,” Scar finishes for him, certain that Grian’s had the same trouble he has, though perhaps to a different degree. “And… maybe we won’t ever be. But… I don’t think all the ways we changed are bad. Like— sure, we’re still messed up and jumpy and… and I mean, frankly traumatized, but…” There’s an effort to poke his head up, but Scar finds himself too reluctant to leave the comfort of Grian’s arms just yet. “We’re also in love. And… we have a new appreciation for life. And each other.” A half-sniffle, half-chuckle gets stuffed into Grian’s chest. “…is that too sappy?”

--

GRIAN

grian chuckles mirthlessly at the list of things they suck at, their reactions and trauma stitched close to them like their shadow, endless and monstrous, looming behind their every step. but scar is right: they have changed in so many messed up ways, and they might never be the same, but... it's not all bad. 

"we're in love," grian echoes, a notch lighter, just a little bit amused that the list of dark things ends with a complete shift, plunging them into sappiness. it's such a scar-like thing to do; he's aware of just how bad things have gotten, but that doesn't mean he won't fight to dredge up every little optimistic and hopeful thing out of it anyway.

grian loves it. it's gotten him through many dark times, this quality that scar has. his tenacious way of thinking and latching onto bright things, even if it's a barely flickering flame amidst complete, terrifying darkness.

he kisses his head again and then nuzzles against his hair, humming. "it's scar level sappy," he replies, mulling it, before landing on: "which means it's perfect." 

the only time scar's level of sappy is too much is when he's flustering grian, but he's not going to point that out, in case scar takes it as a challenge to compare the two right here and right now. (he'd be capable. grian knows.) 

he rubs at scar's back again, humming a soft melody, wanting to calm him further. but there's one thing even he can unearth from the ashes, something written into all their stitches and scars.

"we survived." 

nothing can beat that. no matter how they've changed, or what they can now see in a different light.

they made it.

"and we're good for each other."

--

SCAR

Scar giggles at the term. Scar-level sappy, indeed. His own brand of optimism, wrapped in layers of insecurity but boundless levels of adoration. 

And it got him this far, didn’t it?

“We survived,” Scar repeats, because that’s so damn important. They survived. And they did it because they were together.

Because they’re good together.

“…the power of love,” Scar adds, soft and sentimental and maybe just a bit goofy, hoping to turn the tides from tears to mirthful laughter.

--

GRIAN

once again he gets grian to giggle in a fragile moment—a talent scar has and grian values. in retaliation, he shifts his hands, brings them much closer, until he can tease at scar's ears. 

"we survived, so now i can do this!" his cheeks are still wet, and he feels depleted from all the heavy emotions, but he still manages a grin as he tries to make scar squirm.

--

SCAR

Scar barks out a fit of genuine laughter, somewhat startled by the shift, but he can’t complain when his lips are suddenly tipped into a bright smile and his ears are flicking wildly at the affectionate abuse. 

“Hey!! No fair! I’ve been so gentle!!” he cackles, already shedding that mercy and tickling at Grian’s ribs.

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

aaand i'm going to end on this note (because you know it devolves again. we're good at making things fall apart repeatedly <3 a great angst loop if you ask me.)

but, i'm going to leave you with a little bonus. which is what me and link talked about today. on this same topic, really.

which is how scar changed. hermits know him as the guy who dies a lot, right? also easily distracted, carefree, easily dissipating into giggles, easily brushing things off. all of that.

he could get startled by a fly. he'd yelp and stumble and fall over when he got scared.

but that other world forced other things on him. it forced him to be brave, or at least, to seem like it. forced him to fight to keep himself and grian safe. fight for them both to survive.

now when he gets scared? there are wings and claws and fangs.

he couldn't show weakness in that world, you know?

and it sticks. it sinks its talons into him and holds.

the only person he shows weakness around is grian. and... maybe if he'd been willing to show it more around the other hermits, they'd see that he's still scar.

that he's still scar and he's hurting and afraid.

(yes blame link for this heartbreak brb sobbing with u)

also. a potential conversation:

someone saying to grian (while scar is also possibly there): "scar came back... wrong."

grian angrily counters with "no, scar came back different but not wrong."

and then

quieter

"... i came back wrong."

because, think about it. scar changed, but it can be argued that some of it is better and he's just being misunderstood. but grian? grian can't imagine any good coming from how he's now.

he didn't grow braver or kinder or stronger or any of those things. he just caused [REDACTED]. he's a scared, hurting mess. there's nothing good about him now.

as link said in our discord dms: scar needs to scoop grian up and remind him that he's here for the whole ride. he'll be here while grian learns to heal.

because he will heal.

[lostloveletters]

Something Borrowed (Michael Corleone x Reader)

Summary: Michael Corleone is the last person you expect to see at your best friend Connie’s wedding, and the last thing you expect to happen upon seeing him again after so many years is spending the night together. Maybe, it'll turn into something more.

Note: Female reader, but no other descriptors are used. No hate to Kay, she’s my girl, but wedding scene Michael drives me crazy🤭 She’s off living her best life elsewhere in this. Also, it was a lot of fun writing pre-everything Michael. Do not interact if you’re under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: Sexually explicit content involving unprotected sex. Light play fighting.

Champagne and giggles overflowed at Connie Corleone’s wedding to Carlo Rizzi. Plenty of red wine was passed around in pitchers for the old guard, of course. For you and the other women conscious of not staining the rainbow of cocktail dresses and flowing gowns that dotted the backyard, you opted for lighter fare in tall flutes that sparkled in the early autumn sun. 

Perhaps you were a bit too enthusiastic about the drink offerings, having already exchanged three empty champagne glasses for ones filled to the brim with glittering gold when the bride engulfed you in a hug. With a delighted laugh, you returned the gesture, kissing her cheek.

“I wanted to say thank you one more time for coming!” Connie exclaimed, her cheeks flushed pink from the excitement of the day. “God, it breaks my heart we couldn’t have gotten you a bridesmaid dress in time, but you look gorgeous.”

“Me? Connie, you look like a princess.”

“I feel like one,” she giggled.

“When you see your gift from me—I’m sorry it’s not more, I haven’t—”

“Stop it!” she scolded. “You came all the way from Europe just to be at my wedding. I couldn’t ask for a better friend.”

You didn’t bother correcting her. Her version of events sounded much nicer than you just got lucky with when the Red Cross put you on a boat home. “Anything for you.”

“I won’t keep you. This is probably the first time you’re eating real food in years. Mama, Sandra, and Theresa made most of it.”

Connie was right. You tried to savor your plate, packed with pasta drowned in homemade sauce, antipasto and crusty bread, and sandwiches that towered with fresh cold cuts. The Corleones knew a thing or two about good food, and had the means to pull the strings for the unfathomable ration books such a feast required.

A familiar yet unexpected voice startled you when your fork pierced a piece of mozzarella. “Is this seat taken?”

“Michael,” you practically gasped, taken aback by his even attending the wedding in the first place, but also how good he looked in his uniform. Cap tucked under his arm, medals and decorations on his chest, the photos you’d seen in the magazine didn’t do him justice. Finding yourself again, you gestured to the empty seat across from you. “Go ahead.”

“I can’t remember the last time I saw you, but you look great,” he said, his gaze fixed on you as he set his plate and glass down. He took you in, the girl he’d grown up seeing around the house and at school, now, without a doubt, a woman.

“You too, Captain,” you said, nodding toward the double bars on his uniform.

He snickered at your little joke, making you feel a bit more at ease in his presence. “I’m surprised you aren’t in the wedding party.”

“Honestly, I wasn’t even sure I was going to make it until a few days ago. I only just got back to New York on Thursday,” you said.

“You volunteered with the Red Cross, didn’t you?”

You nodded. “I was in England, and then France after the liberation.”

“Clubmobile, right?”

“Did Connie tell you?”

He shook his head, smiling the slightest bit. “All the pretty girls worked the Clubmobile.”

A mortifyingly girlish giggle escaped your lips. You quickly brought your glass to your mouth, though the champagne in it was likely the culprit of your embarrassing reaction to Michael’s compliment. Averting your eyes to the dancing guests, you tried to ignore the warmth that spread across your face.

You allowed yourself to look at him again a few moments later, relieved to find he was still sitting in front of you, amused, maybe even endeared, by you.

“You’re such a jerk, Michael,” you mumbled, only because he was your friend’s older brother, and when you were younger and starry-eyed and figuring out what it meant when your heart wouldn’t quite beat right around a boy, it was him who those tender emotions were kindled in secret toward—until you had your first real boyfriend.

He grinned at your remark, and the two of you ate and caught up in between his various family members stopping by the table to say hello. You weren’t sure what to make of his seeing you before any of them—flattered, a bit confused as well, but he laughed at your jokes and moved his seat closer to yours, so you must have been doing something right when he finally asked, “Do you want to dance?”

“I’d love to,” you said.

The chaos from Johnny Fontaine’s unexpected arrival and impromptu performance subsided when Michael led you out to dance. He held you close, the way soldiers had at the dances the Red Cross put on for servicemen, all to boost morale, or, as the war went on, to offer a break from reality. Among the many rules meant to be followed—and typically broken in one way or another in the haze of war—was to keep some emotional distance from the enlisted men, for your sake and their own, but with bodies so close together, tender touches and soft whispers over songs of twilight and moonbeams, it was tough not to be caught up in romance’s alluring snare.

Even then, with the war behind both of you, something about being in Michael’s arms made you truly understand why some girls risked their assignments for a man. There was something in how he looked at you, different from your childhood together, even from a few minutes prior. You felt breathless despite the slow song you swayed along to.

“Did you like Paris?” he asked quietly, throwing you for a loop.

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Paris?”

“You were in France, weren’t you?”

“Not Paris.”

“Where in France were you slinging doughnuts, then?”

“Little villages a few miles out from the front, mostly. More cows than people, but nice enough once the fighting stopped, and it was finally quiet—as quiet as it could get, anyway,” you said. “When Connie wrote you’d been wounded, I couldn’t help but think the worst. Plenty of guys out there—well, that article sure put me at ease. All the girls were jealous when I said I knew you.” You smiled. “I’m glad you’re alright, Michael.”

He glanced at your lips, and for an aching moment you were sure he was going to kiss you, but instead he gave you a smile, one that was real and made your heart flutter nevertheless, but left you disappointed.

“Where are you staying since you’ve been back?” he asked.

He seemed familiar with the hotel you were staying in when you mentioned it, offering to drive you back after the reception ended, and Connie and Carlo left for their honeymoon. 

“It’s only until I can find a boarding hotel that has space,” you said. “I mean, it doesn’t have to be the Barbizon, but I’m not moving back in with my parents.”

“Here’s to that.”

The rest of the day and into the evening, Michael hung around you, unless he was pulled away by members of his family, each instance an annoyance to him. You knew they weren’t exactly supportive of his enlisting, but the situation couldn’t have been that bad, not since he was home, safe and sound at his sister’s wedding.

The Corleones, though endlessly kind to you, always been an odd family, and you learned through your friendship with Connie not to ask too many questions.

But Genco Abbandando was dying, and Vito insisted Michael go with the rest of the Corleone men to pay his respects to the elder. When you offered to take a cab back to your hotel, Michael promised the visit wouldn’t be long, suggesting you wait at the house with his mother until he returned to drive you into the city.

Your foolish desire to spend more time with him led to your waiting in the Corleones’ kitchen for a little over an hour, when you likely would’ve been showered and in bed in your hotel room by the time he arrived back for you, in one hell of a hurry to get you into his car and presumably get away from his family.

“Do you ever think about leaving New York?” he asked when the house was out of view.

You laughed. “Michael, I only just got back.”

“That’s not what I mean. The war—it wasn’t going to be forever, but it let you see what life could be like away from all of this, didn’t it?”

“Of course it did. I’m honestly not sure what I’m going to do with myself now,” you said. “How about you? Are you going back to school? Dartmouth, I mean.”

He nodded. “I start again the spring semester.” At a red light, he glanced over at you. “New England’s nice. Better than French cow country.”

“And do you suppose I could study in the department of pouring coffee and serving doughnuts?”

“You’re smart. I think you have a real future,” he said, the sincerity in his voice startling you. “All of that back there, that’s not for us. It never has been.”

You were silent for a few moments. “I guess you’re right.”

The city lights twinkling in the distance took the place of the stars they blocked out from the sky, growing larger as Michael crossed the bridge into Manhattan, the center of the universe. You’d never tell a soul how you cried just a few days prior upon seeing it again for the first time in years.

Besides his talk of the future, Michael kept the conversation light, and you could’ve sworn he was flirting with you. Working the Clubmobile, you learned quickly how to pick up on it, some men laying it on thick while others were irresistibly smooth. Michael could’ve easily just been teasing you, the way a friend’s older brother would, but when he pulled up to your hotel, either your ego or curiosity prompted you to invite him up for a drink.

You sobered up on the drive into the city, enough to remember you didn’t have any drinks in your room. The two of you would have to go to the hotel bar for that, but then you and Michael wouldn’t be alone, not how you wanted, anyway.

To your relief, he agreed.

With Michael in uniform, few questions would be asked by hotel staff as to why you suddenly had a man with you when you checked in on your own. It would have been easy to lie, claim he was your fiance who had only just gotten back Stateside. But you supposed you and Michael already looked the part, walking arm-in-arm through the lobby without an issue.

Your confidence soared on the elevator ride up to your modest room, which you let Michael into, knowing he wouldn’t judge the state of your accommodations.

“Mind if I make myself comfortable?” You didn’t wait for his answer, pulling your blouse from where it’d been tucked in your skirt. Slipping out of your heels, you sighed softly in relief.

“It’s your place,” he said, setting his coat over the chair in the corner and loosening his tie.

You grabbed his cap from where he set it down and placed it on your head, tilting the brim over your face a bit and posing in front of him with a hand on your hip. “How do I look?”

He sat down on the edge of the bed, giving you a once over, “I swear I saw you pinned up in some guy’s tent looking just like that.”

You laughed, taking the cap off and flinging it aside. “Oh, I don’t even know why I invited you up here!” Your laughter faded as something in your stomach turned sour, the situation feeling achingly too good to be true. Alone in a hotel room with Michael, the two of you entirely capable of making your own mistakes on the off chance he wanted you too. “Or why you even agreed to come up.”

“I didn’t come up here to drink.”

“No, you did it to be nice, because we’ve known each other for so long…” You sighed, sitting next to him. “I always figured you thought of me as your kid sister’s annoying little friend or something.”

He shook his head, saying your name softly in either protest or reassurance. His hand cupped your face as he turned it toward him, his thumb rubbing soft circles in your cheek. “Not for a long time. Especially not tonight.”

You kissed him, hands gripping his shoulders, closing your eyes as you melted in his embrace. Your skin feverish at his touch, you shuddered when his hand slipped up your untucked blouse until his fingertips reached your bra.

To say you hadn’t fantasized about Michael would have been an unconvincing lie to anyone who dared ask, but even in your wildest dreams, it was never quite like this, so bold and irreverent in the face of the tradition the two of you had just spent the day celebrating.

“I came up here because you’re beautiful,” he confessed against your lips, “because you’re the only familiar face I saw at my sister’s wedding that didn’t make me wish I were somewhere else.”

Silencing him with another kiss, your fingers raked through his soft black hair as your body pressed flush against his, unsure if you could withstand hearing more of his tender words without falling to pieces. You couldn’t, not so early in the night, but his desire grew difficult to ignore when he pulled you onto his lap. The pressure against your pussy made you moan, and with a hasty desperation, you shimmied out of your panties as he unbuckled his belt, freeing his hard cock within a few moments.

You slipped a hand between the two of you, pumping his length, feeling the way it twitched at your touch and gasping when Michael’s hips bucked. His teeth grazed your bottom lip, a whisper of an intent to devour you.

“I need you, sweetheart,” he groaned. “Need to feel you.”

Lifting your hips, you whimpered upon feeling his head brush your clit as you positioned yourself, slowly lowering as he filled you, cock throbbing against your walls that clenched around him. He assuaged the pain of taking all of him with a gentle kiss and soft praises, urging you to take your time, that you had all night together.

All night. The promise he would stay, at least until the morning, sent a teasing wave of pleasure through you. Gripping his shoulders, you tried to keep a steady pace as you rode him, wanted to show him that staying would be worth his while. He’d been right in the car, you wouldn’t be a virginal, wedding white bride. The both of you had seen and experienced too much to be considered innocent any longer, but it was something you shared, that no one else from that day would have understood.

Your thighs ached as you neared your climax, desperately chasing it despite the exhaustion that was creeping up on you. Crying out in frustration, you buried your face in the crook of Michael’s neck.

“I’m close,” you whined. “Michael, I—”

“I’ve got you,” he assured you, his hands making their home on your hips. 

Your eyes fluttered shut as you let him guide your body, his thrusts doing most of the work while you rocked against him, seeking the friction against your clit that would bring you to release. It caught in your throat, a broken groan from your lips to his ears as you came, clenching around him, pleasure rolling through you, rattling your body like thunder. You barely caught your breath when he came, shuddering against you, practically cradling you against him as he filled you.

With a whimper, you lifted yourself off of him and rolled back onto the bed. Placing your hand on your chest, you felt your rapidly beating heart beneath your fingertips, focusing on it as it slowed the following minute or so and ignoring the stickiness between your legs, the evidence you slept with your best friend’s older brother. 

Michael leaned over, brushing back the hair that stuck to your face. “What are your plans tomorrow?”

“Looking through the classifieds for a job,” you said honestly.

“Wanna put it off for a day?”

“With what money, Michael?”

“I’ll give you a line of credit.”

You grabbed one of the pillows from behind you, throwing it at him with a laugh. “Jerk!”

He grinned, pushing it aside to grab for one of your arms. You put up a weak fight, your breathless laughter giving away his almost certain win.

Having pinned you down beneath him, he pressed you for an answer. “So?” He kissed you. “What do you say, sweetheart?”

You rolled your eyes, smiling despite yourself. “I guess I can clear my schedule for a dashing war hero like you.”

“Dashing, I like the sound of that,” he murmured, bringing his lips to yours again, softly, with a tenderness that promised more for tomorrow, and even the day after, if you’d have him. 

You smiled. “Me too.”

[songsofadelaide]

Basketball superstar!Satoru x popular influencer!reader who is always on courtside gf duties whenever it's game season. You often go viral on social media for your antics— like proudly sporting a smaller version of your boyfriend's jersey, wearing cutesy cheerleader outfits, swearing at the referees whenever your boyfriend is hit with a foul, and jumping into his arms the moment his team is declared the victors. You were his number one fan, after all.

Fortunately, Satoru is way into PDA that you often get away with your antics, which he thinks are just so cute. His teammates are used to him running up to you instead of the trophies they've won. You don't mind that he kisses you while he's all sweaty— you relish his warmth even more since he's worked so hard.

At times when you're busy with your own gigs to attend his game, you send a care package his way along with other nutritional pre-game goodies for his team, too. They thank you with a cute and clumsy TikTok video on their official account, showing off their healthy snacks while still in their jumpsuits. Satoru takes the centre stage and is inevitably teased by everyone else in the locker room.

When game season is over and the teams get a break from training, Satoru joins you in your gigs and endorsement shoots, happily playing the role of your (real) stage boyfriend. He's mostly a glorified PA but everyone else in the set still gets so starstruck by his mere presence. He allows photos and selfies but only at a respectful distance, but he is handsy once you step into his space.

When you're both at home in bed in your pyjamas and Korean face masks, he'd show you his phone and how his socials were flooded with thousands of tags to photos and Pop Base videos of the two of you. You'd tease him about giving the people something else to talk about, but he'd reply in kind and enumerate in detail all the crazy things and trouble you two could get into— if you didn't care about your careers, that is.

You and Satoru are one of the most popular couples on social media at the moment, but you don't let your audience impact the way you two handle things. More importantly, you still keep a fair amount of your relationship to yourselves, so not everything your followers see online is the whole of it.

Satoru proposes to you on a quiet fall afternoon, and you fight the urge to post your engagement as soon as you realised what was happening. There would be so much speculation about your marriage and a lot of unsolicited comments from both family and followers alike, so you say yes in the same quiet way, savouring your first few sacred moments as a newly engaged couple before eventually texting your parents and siblings with a disclaimer— not to tell a single soul.

Your wedding photos go viral, and you laughed at how insane your Instagram comments went before muting your notifications. Satoru is drawing a lopsided heart in the sand, the bright smile on his face disappearing just as quickly as the waters washed away his artwork. Your honeymoon is just as quiet as your wedding, and while you thought you could have made a quick buck out of the whole ordeal, you really wouldn't have had it any other way— just you and him and all the precious people in your lives.

When Satoru returned to the game from your extended honeymoon, the media was nothing but ecstatic to see him and hear about your first few moments as newlyweds. He makes the rookie mistake of excitedly telling everyone that you were expecting, thus the influx of baby items from new sponsors. You forgive him for that, thankful for all the love and support you've received from both your followers so far.

You no longer swear at the refereees nor do you jump into basketball superstar Satoru's arms whenever his team wins a game. Instead, he carries your son on his shoulders, their matching jerseys a sight to behold for all watching his every move. Your son clings to his father as confetti rains over the court and the crowd, and you can't help but think how you've been dethroned as Gojo Satoru's number one fan. Wife sounds just as good, though.

[saintsenara]

It’s so funny to me that Dumbledore has no friends. Like we know for a fact that other eccentric, old sages must exist but Dumbledore has never enlisted even one sidekick… hahahaha, loser. He’s literally hanging around with people 80 years younger than him, my man get friends your own age. Like those are literally his schoolmates’ grandchildren.

i find what this says about dumbledore's role in the creation and maintenance of his benign post-grindelwald public image - and why, therefore, he spends the period after 1945 as an entrenched, profoundly unradical member of the wizarding establishment - fascinating.

it really stands out to me that the characters we meet in canon who adore dumbledore and assume that he is truly the heroic, sensible legend the pre-deathly hallows series presents him as were either adults when dumbledore was a teenager - griselda marchbanks, who examined him for his newts and must, therefore, be around twenty years his senior, for example - and were impressed by the prodigiously and precociously talented boy, or all reached adulthood after - and, indeed, were often born after - his reputation as the vanquisher of the magical world's version of hitler was established.

but anyone we meet of a similar age - someone who could feasibly have known dumbledore in the period between his mother and sister's deaths and grindelwald's defeat - is generally much, much less inclined to see him as a great and morally-spotless genius.

and - to talk about my favourite boy - this adds such an interesting layer to voldemort's attitude towards dumbledore. it's entirely plausible that - when voldemort returns from the continent, which seems to take place in the mid-to-late sixties - he encounters a dumbledore who is suddenly regarded as infallible and unimpeachable, in a way which was very much not the case in the forties. and that this is a major contributing factor to his obvious belief that dumbledore is a hypocrite...

we know from what muriel says to harry at bill and fleur's wedding that rumours about the circumstances surrounding ariana's death circulated widely. many of voldemort's cohort must have been aware of them - their fathers and grandfathers would be dumbledore's age, after all - and i find the idea that it was an open secret that dumbledore, despite his academic brilliance, ended up as a schoolteacher because he was beset by scandals extremely compelling.

[i don't think anyone knew about his relationship with grindelwald - to be clear - but i do think that dumbledore was widely suspected to have killed his sister - or perhaps to have knowingly covered up for aberforth doing so - and to have escaped charges on extremely dodgy grounds...]

after all, you can't tell me voldemort isn't trying to needle him by saying - during his job interview - that he's surprised that dumbledore never left the school for the ministry... since he brings it up in response to dumbledore offending him by calling him "tom", and since he's so transparently pissed off when dumbledore pretends that his only motivation for staying at hogwarts was an altruistic desire to hone young minds...

[https-lvesick]

RUNAWAY BRIDE ★ huang renjun (TEASER)

summary . . ♡ Just weeks before your wedding, doubts begin to creep in, and on the big day, you panic and make a break for it. Desperate and still in your bridal gown, you flag down a passing car driven by a friendly stranger. He offers to take you to safety, but what starts as a temporary stop turns into something much more. As you hide from the life you left behind, feelings grow, and the lovely stranger finds he doesn’t want you to leave.

pairing . . ♡ renjun x rich girl!reader

genre . . ♡ fluff, angst, smut, strangers to friends to lovers, love at first sight

content . . ♡ no content warning for the teaser!

word count . . ♡ 0.7k for the teaser (23k for the full fic)

skye's notes . . ♡ superrr excited for this one!! especially because it's my love :( the masterlist will come out in a while 😖 literally shaking in my boots to hit the post button

release date . . ♡ january 31

taglist . . ♡ OPEN!

You stared at yourself in the mirror for the thousandth time. Your eyes traced every detail—the flawless hairstyle, the delicate diamond tiara, the long white dress with intricate lace sleeves, and the impeccable makeup. Pride swelled within you for reaching this milestone, for taking the first step in building your future family. But why? Why did you feel so heavy with dread? Why did every thought of a future with your fiancé fill you with unease instead of joy?

The door creaked open, and one of your bridesmaids—your best friend—entered the room. Her radiant smile was contagious, filled with pride and warmth. It almost made you believe in the illusion of a blissful future. Because this was the right thing to do.

Wasn’t it?

"Here’s your bouquet..." she said, placing the bundle of crimson roses in your hands. Red roses, the ultimate symbol of love, carefully adorned with tiny diamonds nestled between the blooms. Joy beamed with excitement, far more emotional than you felt. Her eyes drifted to your trembling hands, interpreting it as a case of perfectly reasonable wedding jitters.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, taking your hands in hers. You inhaled deeply, letting out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

"Nervous," you admitted with a weak, insincere smile. Everything about this moment felt like a facade. "My heart’s racing faster than one of Sung’s monologues."

She chuckled, and for a fleeting second, the tension eased. Was the rapid beat of your heart merely pre-wedding anxiety? Or was it doubt?

"That’s perfectly normal," Joy reassured, her tone as light as if describing a fairytale. "I felt exactly the same on my wedding day. Trust me, the nerves disappear the moment you say ‘I do’ and seal it with a kiss."

Your eyes flutter open. Joy, still twirling around the room with a smile on her face, sings in that melodic voice that always brings you peace. You stare at your reflection again, knowing there’s still a chance—one fleeting chance—to make the right choice.

"Joy?" you call softly. "Could you get me some water? I think these nerves are really getting to me..." Your voice trembles just enough, sounding perfectly fragile—exactly like the version of yourself everyone expects. Joy giggles at your tone, unaware of anything unusual.

"Of course," she says cheerfully, excusing herself before slipping out the door.

Better to regret doing too much than to regret doing nothing at all.

The words echo in your mind as you pull off your heels and set them aside. Then, with your pulse racing, you open the door that leads to the garden where the celebration waits.

The moment your bare feet touch the grass, you run.

You run as fast as you can, ignoring the weight of the dress pulling you down, ignoring the stinging thoughts of what people will think, ignoring the consequences that tomorrow will bring. All that matters is getting out—escaping the cage before it locks you in forever.

When Joy returns to find the door ajar, the tiara and heels abandoned, the crystal glass slips from her fingers, shattering on the floor. Fear flashes across her face, but she doesn’t chase after you. She lets you go.

"I hope you know what you’re doing..." Joy whispers to herself. She laughs in disbelief, shaking her head. She waits a moment, giving herself just enough time before putting on the perfect mask of panic for when the news breaks—the bride is gone.

It takes longer than you'd like to escape the mansion grounds, and even longer before anyone realizes the bride is missing. Minhyuk, your fiancé, stands in stunned silence at first, refusing to believe it’s true. Then anger overtakes him, his fury mirrored by your father, whose mind is already racing with ways to punish you for disgracing the family.

When you finally reach the street, your legs burn and your lungs ache. You stop to catch your breath, heart pounding in your chest, knowing that by now, everyone is searching for you. The security team must already be mobilized. Finding you will be easy—too easy. After all, a bride running through the streets of Los Angeles isn’t exactly inconspicuous.

You take off again, pushing your legs to move faster, weaving through traffic, not waiting for the light to turn. The inevitable happens—a car screeches to a halt, clipping your side just enough to send you stumbling. The driver’s face is as terrified as yours.

“Help me,” you murmur, voice trembling as your eyes lock with his.

did you enjoy your reading? why don’t reblog, like or leave a comment? this way i know you liked what i wrote and surely will keep up with the good content! 𖹭 masterlist 𖹭 series masterlist

🏷 @jungaji @spacejip @lyvhie @sinisxtea @jirsungs @polarisjisung @chenlezip

[pierregazly]

you make loving fun ꨄ pierre gasly smau

pierre gasly x fem!russell!reader

in which pierre has made it obvious he worships the ground his fiancé walks on, but her brother just has to make it clear he can fight if he needs to.

ynrussell has posted a story

liked by pierregasly, carmenmmundt, and others

replies

pierregasly je t'aime mon chérie 🤍

georgerussell63 you better be sleeping in different beds. and the food better be fully cooked

ynrussell we've been engaged for 9 months. ynrussell and it's a fucking croissant it's obviously fully cooked you dolt

pierregasly

tagged ynrussell

liked by ynrussell, charles_leclerc, carmenmmundt, and 650,093 others

pierregasly what a great winter break with my favourite person! time to get back to work 💪😈

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ynrussell i love youuuu

ynrussell thanks for massaging my sore ankles after :(

liked by pierregasly

username they are literally so CUTE

username i want to be ynrussell so bad... like she's so pretty and pierre brings her EVERYWHERE

georgerussell63 this doesn't seem like a safe date option

georgerussell63 my sister better be in one piece by the time you finally return her home

ynrussell i am a grown woman??? i am not being returned home??? what is WRONG with you pierregasly i think i'll keep her actually, sorry mate!

username do you guys think george is serious or is he just playing a joke

username he comments on EVERY single one of their posts... my mans gonna fuck pierre up if he ever steps out of line frfr

liked by georgerussell63

ynrussell

tagged pierregasly

liked by pierregasly, charles_leclerc, georgerussell63, and 46,209 others

ynrussell a special happy birthday to the king of my heart 🫶🏻 one year closer to 30 handsome!!!

view 306 comments

username happy birthday pierregasly!!!!!!

charles_leclerc 🥳🥳🥳

pierregasly do you want to fight??? one year closer to 30???

georgerussell63 i've got this ynrussell, don't threaten my sister or it's game over

pierregasly je t'aime 🤍

georgerussell63 is there a video of pierre getting his face shoved into the cake? i'll pay good money for it

username george omg

username LMAOOOO pleaaaase george is ruthless does he even like his future brother in law

georgerussell63 no. happy birthday pierregasly.

username why is no one talking about how he's looking at her in that second photo???? the pure love??? im gonna cry i hate that i love them

username the 😭 king 😭 of 😭 my 😭 heart 😭

ynrussell

tagged carmenmmundt, alexandrasaintmleux, pierregasly, and 12 others

liked by pierregasly, georgerussell63, alexandrasaintmleux, and 52,951 others

ynrussell spoiled absolutely rotten by all the wonderful women in my life this weekend, thank you all for making my bridal shower so special 🫶🏻 (and an extra special thank you to my best friend for the beautiful present he dropped off for me in the middle of it all)

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carmenmmundt had so much fun celebrating the beautiful bride to be!!

username it makes my heart so full that carmen's planned so much of ynrussell's pre-wedding stuff, she has to be in the wedding party omg

username do we think george is one of pierre's groomsmen???

username if pierre doesn't want to die on his wedding day i'd hope so lol

georgerussell63 i hope pierregasly didn't ruin your special day by showing up. so happy to see how overjoyed you were in all the photos 💗

ynrussell pls stop harassing my fiancé. love you georgie.

username i literally cannot WAIT for their wedding, i just know pierre is going to go all out to make sure ynrussell is the happiest bride in the world (or george will get his ass)

pierregasly i stand by what i said, prettiest flowers for my prettiest flower 💐

georgerussell63

tagged ynrussell

liked by ynrussell, pierregasly, carmenmmundt, and 879,092 others

georgerussell63 can't believe the little girl who used to make me zip up her raincoat on the way to school is getting married tomorrow. honoured to be apart of your special day. and even though i mention it 14 times in my speech, pierregasly i know where you live and i will hurt you if you ever hurt her.

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ynrussell 🥺🥺

ynrussell i'm going to cry. love you always georgie 🥺

username the picture of him zipping up her coat i'm going to cry... my fav brother/sister duo HONESTLY

username i just know this man would get away with murder for her if he had to

username pierre would not stand a chance against george

username bestie be so fucking for real, george's skinny ass ankles wouldn't stand a chance against my man pierre

carmenmmundt i think you've made enough threats by now?

liked by pierregasly, ynrussell, and 63 others

pierregasly may as well make it 15 times, i just dont think 14 is enough little brother

georgerussell63 do NOT call me that

pierregasly and yngasly

liked by georgerussell63, charles_leclerc, alpinef1team, and 1,673,942 others

pierregasly i am truly the luckiest man in the world to finally be able to call myself your husband. the tears were worth seeing you in the most beautiful dress, on the most beautiful day. i will hold my vows until the day i die. je t'aime, i love you.

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username omg he cried!!!!!!

username i KNEW IT i knew pierre would be a crier my man's looks like he would be

username do we think george made him cry

username girl dont be delulu i'd be crying too if yngasly was about to be my wife

georgerussell63 i have a video of you crying. don't act up.

pierregasly wouldn't count on it lil bro. username pierre may get beat up without it even involving yngasly as this rate

yngasly can't believe i bagged myself such a looker

yngasly i love you mr. gasly

pierregasly i love you mrs. gasly

honestly this was one of those one's that i started, imagined myself in this position and then basically HAD to finish it. thank you to the lovely person who requested a russell!sister!reader who is engaged to pierre, who constantly get's threatened by george. i hope you all loved it!!

my requests are open

taglist:

@leclercdream @myescapefromthislife @princessria127 @iloveyou3000morgan @love4lando @asfaraslifegets @decseptapril @somanyfandomsbruh @fangirl125reader @imagandom @motorsp0rt @jspitwall @sarahedwards16 @glitterf1 @christianpulisic10 @carlandonorri-s @smoothopz @eugene-emt-roe @epitios

if your name is struck through it wouldn't let me tag you! let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist/if you're missing from it :)

[blorbocedes]

For the trope mash-up: didnt mean to turn you on + innocent physical touch for franco 'milf-hunter' colapinto and checo/lewis

okay hear me out. what if checo was a woman instead 🤭🫣

Checo's had a fucking year.

The car is shit. She's been saying for so long but now they finally believe it as even Redbull’s wunderkind Max struggles in it. Every other interview, news cycle is about her retiring, her being unceremoniously kicked out as drivers salivate for her seat, her middling performance due to early pre-menopausal hormones? Just 2 years ago, she was the Mexican Queen of Defense, and now it's 'is she Redbull’s DEI hire?' The stories have become outlandish, announcing her second pregnancy and retirement at Mexican Grand Prix. That's why after Daniel, who had very clearly been brought in to replace her, was switched mid season she posted the Wolf of Wall Street clip on her instagram to make it clear: I’m not fucking leaving.

So forgive her if she's been seeking a little respite elsewhere.

There's a hot, young Argentine at Williams that's been eyeing her. Checo’s a woman on the F1 grid, she's been eyed like that thousands of times, most of it unwanted. Although, it fell off after she birthed the twins and her tits never returned to their glory days. So it's a little flattering reminder she's still got it. Being able to speak in the same language also helps, not having to translate everything for doublespeak. They have rapport.

“How old are you?” Checo asks at the club. She's not there to celebrate, she just needs a drink. Franco’s at the stage where finishing a race is cause for celebration.

“Twenty five.” Franco replies in her ear entirely too quickly, with a grin.

Checo raised an eyebrow. She didn't keep track of the rookies but she sure as hell knew they weren't doing twenty five year old rookies anymore.

A group of tourists seem to recognize her, probably fans and she's in no autographing mood so she pulls Franco in closer in front of her, to block her five foot four self from the world. He misreads the signal, but is all too happy to step in closer; personal space be damned.

“Okay. I lied. I didn't want to freak you out.” Franco confesses sheepishly.

Checo drinks her whiskey, assessing it. “I was winning karting races while you were in diapers, yes?”

It makes her feel old just saying it. She doesn't know how Fernando does it.

Franco nods, pupils going dark.

“And…” she raises her left hand, eyes pointing to her wedding ring.

Franco smirks. “I don't mind if you don't.” He leans in for the kiss, and Checo leans back denying him. Too public. She's learned from that mistake. She does put her left hand on his nape, stroking it and praising the boldness. It's dangerous, sleeping with another driver. When you're a woman, it gives them too much power. That's why Checo never acted on Max's obvious interest. But Franco doesn't have a seat next year yet... as temporary and harmless to her prospects as it gets.

“Come on,” Franco’s voice betrays the frustration underneath the trying hard to be suave, “I know you're thinking it too. You'd rather be on a boat with me than this totally lame club. And what I might lack in experience, I can make up for in stamina.” He practically purrs in her ear.

“A boat? Williams is not paying you that much.” Checo laughs, even as she entertains the line about stamina. James is a penny pincher to a fault. And Franco might get F1 groupies impressed with that line, but as the primary breadwinner she knows a little better.

Franco’s undeterred. “Your boat then. I can be your yacht boy.”

Now wouldn't Checo love to be sunning on a boat, no kids running around, being waited on hand and foot by an eager, younger man who can go for round two in ten minutes. God, she hasn't been filled up in a satisfying way in so long, her cunt throbs at the fantasy, aided by the tall, warm body in front of her.

Checo bites her lower lip, and looks around. Nobody around them in paying attention to the dark corner they're in anymore. She takes Franco’s hand and places it over her breast, holding his gaze. For all his smooth-talking, Franco seems momentarily stunned, mouth parting in surprise. He has naturally red lips, Checo wants to bite on it. He tentatively squeezes her breast, and after seeing her nod, starts kneading it, thumb trying to find her nipple through the layers of her polo shirt and sports bra.

“Can I please eat you?” Franco’s voice is husky as he begs.

[ender1821]

shinyduo/gempearl post-SL is sooo funny because before SL they were the typical "friends who like to do pranks with and against each other, partners in crime, really adorable sometimes" and then SL happened and they became OBSESSED with each other (really obvious from pearl's side since gem was more subtle) and innuendos started to appear left and right. now after WL they are not only obsessed they are also 10x times freakier and flirty. it's gem's fault a lot of the time but pearl enables it and digs herself into a deeper hole so she gets a wack too.

i am pleading to the sky for the fated shiny duo alliance to happen this year because 1) i am sure gem's possessiveness would get multiplied by 20 even if she tried to not show it and that'd be really fun + pearl would like it 2) their dynamic is so complex that they could be anything (codependent or healthy or possessive or die for each other or kill for each other or-) and 3) the aftermath of them teaming would be funny asf and the streams would be horrendous

thank you for coming to my ted talk 🙏

the freakier being in bold and italic is really getting to me for some reason lmao. anyway

you are right in the shift of them pre and post-SL, like, they are STILL giving cute partners in crime but also they’re. so. abnormal about each other??? thats not to say they weren’t flirty/making innuendos before the life series but god did all of that get worse after. also, it has kinda been shown how Gem is the one saying most of the questionable things, but Pearl definitely contributes a lot as well. lets not forget the pickles

of course we’re all manifesting for them to properly team up. its not even subtle at this point they both know that. the only things stopping it from happening really are luck and Gem’s homophobia (/j) cough. i mean. they would definitely get time to resolve what they failed to address back in WL if they’re allied together and can have time to talk. it could also make things worse but we’ll be seated either way. and then we’ll be questioning our existence again when the streams inevitably come

BUT. imo the alliance i really want is them + any other player. yep. i want a third wheel. it can literally be any other player because i think having someone else to affect/witness their dynamic is always entertaining, allows for exploration of new potentially fun dynamics between Pearl/Gem and another player while still offering plenty of opportunity for them to be. weird (/aff), and generally just gives the team a new spin instead of just Murder Camel 2.0. like. i’ve put way too much thought into this so there’s a whole ramble under cut about some of the potential trios and why i think they could be cool for a new life series

Jimmy: originally my life series s6 team predictions was pearl/gem/jimmy </3 mainly out of wanting more pearl + jimmy interactions, but i think having gem there helps just keep the team together. i thought they would be a nice team for jimmy in terms of support (think the SL scene where jimmy finds out he’s not the first out and they’re the ones there cheering him on) but well. thankfully we still had bamboozlers… anyway gem’s ego will get even worse if she had this team, and don’t we all wanna see that

Lizzie: PLEASE. impossible minecraft sent me to the point of no return because now i’m BEGGING for more pearl/gem/lizzie interactions. please. the girlies. we just need more gem + lizzie interactions in the life series imo, and we’ve already seen what happens when pearl + lizzie are together. i can’t tell you for sure if i think any betrayal will happen in this team but it would be really funny if there was, mainly just so lizzie and gem can bicker while pearl is just. There like a sad puppy. it’s cool if there isn’t though, i can see them thriving straight to the finale. cmon. think of the yuri

Ren: hey. hey. remember that one ren stream? you know the one. the wedding. do you see where i’m getting at. do you see the dynamic. it’s so funny to me ok. and we haven’t even mentioned the times where ren has mixed them up. i think it would be a horrible time for him to have to deal with these two and that’s so entertaining. if i picked jimmy because i thought he would have a nice time then for ren it’s for the complete opposite reason. make him suffer with these weirdos

Martyn: HE is the one who’s going to make them suffer. HE will be the one to make it worse. and it will be hilarious. let the man get some form of revenge for them terrorising him back in SL. they’re going to be insufferable and it’s going to be great. you might as well start the “hump duo” counter now …also i may just have a personal preference of wanting to see more pearl + martyn and gem + martyn interactions

Cleo: i mean. cmon. this one doesn’t need that much explanation. the people want a pearl/gem/cleo team

Impulse: same as cleo— SOUP GROUP ASSEMBLE!!!

Etho: pearl + etho interactions are great. gem + etho interactions are great. boom. gem gets to bully them both, then they either make a really successful trap or perform the greatest fumble ever! i see nothing but wins here

BigB: nosy neighbours… what if we tried again… plus i’m pretty sure there was a temporary gem + bigb team in RL, so why not give them a whole season. i think it would be fun. it’d be interesting to see how this team shifts with bigb’s general play style in the life series. i wonder how the base(s?) would turn out

Mumbo: listen to me. they have the funniest opportunity here to fluster this man to the high heavens. think about SL ep 5. think about it

Scar: so like. remember that 2v1? yeah. crazy, right? no but okay i don’t think if they teamed up there would be that much more emphasis on the 2v1 after all that in WL, but there WOULD be good times. i know this deep in my heart. the pearl/gem/scar interactions would go crazy. i hope they go on a hunting spree

Joel: i think this one is the least likely (on account of the fact that pearl has teamed with him in SL, and then gem doing the same in WL) but there could be beautiful world where pearl and joel build an even bigger and better car and gem just watches and sighs

Scott: insert manic laughter here. Pearlescentmoon you are about to have the worst time of your life ever

[maxdibert]

Oh, holy maxdibert, please bless us with post-school pre-teaching (from 18 to 20) Snape headcanons

Alright, here are some headcanons I’ve always had to fill in gaps and make sense of certain things:

• His mother died shortly after he left Hogwarts. Eileen’s health had already been in terrible condition due to her way of life, and she was increasingly neglected. In the end, she passed away from some sort of magical illness.

• Severus only returned to Spinner’s End for the funeral, where his father showed up drunk. He decided he had no reason to go back there, especially now that his mother was gone and he was involved with the Death Eaters, finally able to leave the Muggle world behind for good.

• He handled Eileen’s death terribly by completely ignoring his need to grieve, pretending it hadn’t happened, and using the fact that he no longer had any connection to the Muggle world to sever himself from that part of his life, which he had always hated as it reminded him of terrible things.

• Another terrible way he coped was by throwing himself into his “work,” which at that time consisted of political scheming with the Death Eaters. He volunteered for every undesirable task just to avoid stopping and thinking about things he didn’t want to face.

• That’s basically how he ended up taking on espionage tasks for Voldemort: aristocratic pure-blood wizards saw sneaking around in alleyways as lowly work. They wanted to plan assaults or be on the front lines, playing heroes of fanaticism—not hiding in the trash to see what scraps they could gather. Severus didn’t mind because it meant being out all day, avoiding places that made him stop and think.

• Being meticulous, perfectionistic, and someone who liked working alone, he turned out to be excellent at it. Since he was so good at it, he caught Voldemort’s attention. Voldemort might be oblivious when it comes to emotions, but he’s practical and knows how to spot talent.

• This led to Voldemort giving him more complex and secretive tasks, tasks he wouldn’t entrust to many others. It was the door to Voldemort’s inner circle, in a way so discreet that many in the organization still thought Severus was just “Lucius’ half-blood lackey.”

• Speaking of Lucius, of course, he was the one who brought Severus into the Death Eaters. They were pretty close during that time, with Lucius taking on a kind of patronizing, older-brother role toward him.

• That was also when Severus started to really bond with Narcissa. They’d known each other for years but hadn’t spoken much due to the age difference and because he mostly saw her as “Lucius’ girlfriend.” But once they were out of school and the Malfoys were about to get married, they started interacting more, and Narcissa sort of “adopted” him.

• He attended the Malfoys’ wedding, which took place in early 1979.

• That spring, he found out that his father had been found dead in an alley. No one knew what had happened; they just told him that Tobias had been fired from the factory months earlier for showing up drunk too many times, and afterward, he’d never left the pub.

• He didn’t care about the details—just that the house was now his, and he didn’t want it for anything.

• Instead of grieving properly for this second loss, so close to the first, he focused even more on advancing within the Death Eaters, taking on more and more dangerous and reckless missions.

• Voldemort admired his dedication to the cause and his willingness to risk his life, but he had no idea that Severus didn’t care about the cause at all—he just wanted to stop thinking.

• That same year, he also found out that Lily had married James Potter. When he was told, he didn’t say anything—he just compulsively smoked through two packs of cigarettes in a single day.

• His favorite coping mechanism? Absolute avoidance of emotions, with no attempt to acknowledge or process them.

• He wasn’t sad or jealous about Lily’s marriage—he was absolutely furious and deeply disappointed. This culminated in him getting into a ridiculous fight with another Death Eater over some stupid comment. He ended up lunging at the guy and completely wrecking his face.

• Some of the more sadistic Death Eaters thought Severus was a pretty tough guy after that, like some kind of rabid animal. But in reality, he was just a kid who’d been taught to handle emotions with violence.

• He heard the prophecy because Voldemort had finally entrusted him with one of the riskiest tasks: spying on Dumbledore. Ironic, since years later Dumbledore would ask him to do the same thing, but in reverse.

• He liked the recognition Voldemort gave him, liked feeling useful, liked occasionally visiting the Malfoys, and liked how Narcissa would shut Bellatrix up whenever she made snide remarks about him. Bellatrix reminded him too much of Sirius Black—not just in her arrogance, impulsiveness, and insufferability, but also in their physical resemblance—and it drove him crazy.

• He often hung out with Mulciber, Avery, and Rosier, but he got bored quickly because all they did was get drunk and fall over after barely a few drinks. They couldn’t hold their liquor at all.

• Severus wasn’t much of a drinker for fun, but when he did, he could handle a lot more than they could. He would never have admitted it out loud, but in those moments, he thought of them as spoiled brats.

• He had a couple of flings with some pure-blood girls they introduced him to, but nothing serious. Narcissa would sometimes scold him, telling him to find a good match and settle down because “family, blah blah blah,” but it all just sounded like old-people talk to him.

• Around that time, Lucius was obsessed with trying to get Severus to apply for Ministry positions, claiming that with the right connections (i.e., his), Severus could rise to a high-ranking role. But Severus wasn’t interested and never paid him much attention.

• He perfected his Occlumency skills during that period because many Death Eaters were skilled Legilimens, and he didn’t want anyone getting into his head.

• He met Draco shortly after he was born, which was one of the most awkward moments of his life. He had no idea how to interact with a newborn, so he just stared at him for five minutes like he was some exotic animal that was both intriguing and baffling. Narcissa eventually had to tell him to stop staring because he was going to traumatize the baby.

• The idea of returning to Hogwarts or Spinner’s End would never have even crossed his mind—until he heard the prophecy.

• He learned that strength, wealth, or brilliance aren’t the keys to success; the ability to obtain and manage information is the key to power.

[katyaromanoffpetrova]

Emoji, questionmark

Katya receives a special text from Natasha, who is very... appreciative of her muscles.

• Natasha Romanoff x Fem!OC • Wordcount: 3.1k • Warnings: suggestive • A/N: thank you so much for your patience as I took a bit of a break from writing! I hope to post more now :) Masterlist

Do not repost my work as your own or translate my work!!

Katya

"Thanks again, Kat!"

The last of Katya's students left the training room, taking their water bottles and positive energy with them. 

It had been another good day at the women-only gym, and Katya lingered around to clean up, in no rush to get home. She looked up and smiled at the goodbye, giving a small wave to Sandra, who got more confident in her own skin every week. 

"Till next week!"

When the room was empty, Katya did a small lap around to look for any forgotten items or water spills, ending up where she started; at the portable speaker nestled in the corner. Her phone lay next to it, connected to the bluetooth device. 

Pulling the hair tie from her sweaty, oily hair, Katya picked it up. It unlocked to several missed messages from the last two hours—she rarely checked messages between classes, and not at all in classes. That's not the type of vibe she wanted to give off.

There were some notifications from her social media, a text from Laura thanking her for the flowers she sent for her and Clint's wedding anniversary, one from Maya saying she picked up cat food. 

And, of course, a text from her wife.

They were so… pathetically connected that they missed the other instantly when they were apart. 

Natasha had some errands to run in the city? Katya sat on the couch, sulking, anticipating her return. Katya was at work all day? Natasha texted her more often than usual about stuff that didn't matter in the slightest just because she was thinking about her the whole time. 

The only time they were ever fully at ease was when they were together. Maya made fun of them for it, but Katya was quick to point out that the past had given them enough reason to feel that way. Unexpectant time apart, years where they thought the other was dead. It left deep scars in their fragile hearts and separation anxiety in their stomachs.

For obvious reasons, Katya had message previews for Natasha's chats off, in case anyone needed to use her phone. She only saw what her wife texted her when she opened the chat. 

Katya snorted out loud in the empty room. Caught off guard by the embarrassed sound that came out of her own mouth, she quickly looked around, but the only one staring at her was the reflection of herself in the large mirror wall.

Smugness drew a smirk across her mouth, ego puffing out her chest. Natasha was the best hypewoman, even when her reasons were entirely selfish. Nobody loved Katya's physique more than her, and she made sure to let her know every chance she got, both verbal and non-verbal. The non-verbal worshipping was both their favorite. 

Natasha's message consisted of one emoji and one punctuation mark. Not an uncommon thing in itself. A food item with a question mark meant; can you pick this up, or can we have this for dinner? A cat or a ginger-haired girl with a question mark meant; where is the cat, and where is Maya? Any of those things with an exclamation mark meant; don't forget to pick it up. 

It was an important distinction. 

But there were no doubts on what Natasha meant this time. It was very, very clear what she wanted. Shamelessly too.

The flexed arm emoji combined with the question mark meant she was most probably horny, and most definitely mentally drifting.

Katya snickered as she locked and pocketed her phone, collecting the last of her stuff before closing the door of the training room behind her. Usually, she would head straight for the office or to the car, but now she took a detour to the machines. 

Smiling and greeting people, she did a few quick stretches before grabbing a set of weights. With no pre-workout taken, no warmup of any kind, she sat down and started a quick bicep and shoulder routine. 

The goal today wasn't to get a correct workout in. The goal was to pump her muscles so her wife could get her fix. 

She was barely sweaty by the time she stopped, but she had no patience to continue. By now, Natasha would have seen that she'd been left on delivered and would be waiting on what she asked for. The woman was a lot of things, but patient wasn't high up in that list. 

Katya was in and out of the machine room within fifteen minutes, hurrying to find a mirror before her hard work was lost. Luckily, there was another pro to an all-women gym: incredible bathroom lighting. None of that dark, mysterious stuff where you feel like you're in a cave. No, the mirrors on the walls were huge and lined with lights. 

Katya made sure the stalls were empty before propping her phone up on the sink, next to the gym-provided perfumes and deodorant. Quickly, she took her hoodie off and turned with her back to the camera, redoing her ponytail to ensure a maximal view of her shoulders and back.

It felt odd in the beginning to take pics like these, when Natasha first started asking for them. But Katya quickly found out that it wasn't very different from the nudes she sent her. Natasha found her sexy and hot no matter what pose or position she was in, as long as she could see what she wanted to see. Don't overthink it.

She snapped some pictures from different angles, capturing different muscle groups, and tried some new poses she found online from the fitgirls she followed. They didn't turn out amazing, but they would satiate Natasha for now. When footsteps approached the bathroom door, Katya hid the evidence of her activities by snatching her phone off the sink, but Brianna took one look at her and smiled knowingly.

"Documenting your progress?" She asked, picking the sink next to Katya's to wash her hands. Her hair wasn't in box braids this time, instead in a bun on the back of her head. She looked gorgeous whatever way she wore it. 

"They're not for me," Katya answered distractedly, flipping through the photos to pick the best ones, deleting some that were too mediocre. She had to admit, her body looked good.

"Ah." Brianna smirked, taking a quick peek at the phone screen. "What the wife wants, the wife gets."

"Exactly." Katya mirrored her expression and sent the three best pics off to Natasha without any context, then she pocketed her phone and turned to her boss. "I think this means I have to get home ASAP."

"Get some."

Katya snickered. "I think I will."

Natasha

Natasha had been feeling like this all day; clingy, needy. Usually, she was the first one out of bed in the mornings. Today, she wouldn't let Katya get up to go to work. It almost made her late.

These phases of hers came and went. One week, she followed Katya everywhere like a baby duck. The next, she sought out solitude in her office upstairs. 

They made it work no matter what mood she was in, but Natasha couldn't help but dread the moments she was alone when she felt clingy. With Maya at school, and no distractions, she started to think about stupid stuff, like if this was how it felt to be on your period. Emotional and needy. 

She just missed Katya. Like a dog misses its owner. She wanted hugs; a warm, strong body to nestle into. She wanted to be taken care of; for Katya to bring her tea and wrap a blanket around her. 

She would tell her all of this, but Natasha didn't like to bother her too much when she was at work. It was only eight hours, and she was a big girl. 

Nevertheless, after trying everything to put her mind off it, Natasha wound up looking through her camera roll for pictures of her wife. If anyone ever found or hacked her phone, they'd think she was a stalker. She had folders for everything, sorted alphabetically, and filled to the brim with pictures of Katya.

'Kat on holiday'. 'Family'. 'Kat doing stuff'. 'Kat candid pics'. Natasha even had a 'this is my wife'-folder, because she always managed to work Katya into any conversation and would then proudly show her off to anyone. This folder was filled with Katya's prettiest pictures. 

Natasha paused with her thumb hovering above the last folder, hidden at the bottom of the screen. Going into her camera roll, her goal was simply to daydream innocently and to fill that Katya-shaped hole in her day. But if she clicked on that folder, her brain was going to take a very aggressive U-turn onto a road that steered straight off a cliff.

Oh well, it'd give her something to do.

'Kat's muscle pics', was, obviously, filled with pictures of Katya's muscles; ones the brunette sent herself, posed, or quick snaps Natasha took. Most of them were lucky shots. Candid pics turned muscle pics. Katya's strong legs in shorts, her arms in a tank top, her abs in a bikini, her back in a strapless dress. Anything where her incredible muscles were highlighted.

If Maya didn't have the code to her phone, Natasha would have named the folder something more worthy. 'Muscle mommy', maybe. 

But the mediocre name didn't stop Natasha from enjoying the content thoroughly. She stopped at every pic, took her time, zoomed in, shifted in her seat if one really got to her. But they didn't seem to be hitting like they usually did. With a frown, she scrolled back to the most recent picture, finding the date to confirm her thoughts. 

It dated back 3 weeks. 3 weeks! Way too long. 

Upset—and a bit pissed—she backed out of the app and found her chat with Katya. It was truly outrageous that she hadn't been supplied with fresh content for twenty-one whole days. Shocking that she had to ask for it herself. Part of her was too proud to, but the bigger part needed new pics right now. 

Quickly, she found the arm emoji—which wasn't even in her recents anymore, unlike the peach and the scissors—and threw a big, fat question mark behind it. Only one, because she wanted to tell Katya in person how pissed she was. Then she sent the text.

Waiting was torture. Natasha even went on a run to pass the time, music blasting in her eardrums instead of the usual audiobook or podcast. But there were no notifications when she came back home, or showered, or made herself a snack. 

She was ready to throw her phone across the room and roll up into a blanket ball on the couch when the status of her text changed from 'delivered' to 'seen'. Hopeful and excited, Natasha sat up, intently staring at the screen. She wasn't disheartened when Katya went offline again without replying. Her wife never ignored her, so something must be coming soon.

She fumbled for her phone when it chimed, her heart racing as she opened the pictures Katya finally sent her. It wasn't just one. It wasn't two. It was three.

Saliva pooled in her mouth as she studied them. Closely. Every ridge, every rounding, every curve of Katya's upper body. Her phone was only inches away from her face, too scared to miss anything like she didn't have free access to those muscles 24/7.

The pictures were perfect. They were sexy, so sexy. They were feminine yet masculine. Elegant yet tough. The perfect combination. A woman who could rock a dress and be a gentlewoman, and strangle a man to protect her. 

The need to feel the muscles underneath her fingertips slowly grew. It was a weird mix of horniness and loneliness. To have those strong arms around her in a hug, or to desperately hold them as Katya ruined her? 

Liho meowed as she jumped on the couch, sniffing Natasha's phone as if she wanted a piece of Katya too.

"Look at your other mom," Natasha said to her in her baby-voice full of awe, showing the cat the pictures like Liho had any clue what she should be looking at. The animal just meowed again. "I agree, baby. So gorgeous. So sexy. And all mine."

Natasha's thumb drifted towards the call-button—she needed to hear Katya's voice. She couldn't keep staring at the pictures that were sent without any context. She needed more. Anything. But right before she tapped, three dots appeared at the bottom of her screen. 

Kat: Leaving now. See you soon x.

Katya

Katya walked into the house with caution like the spy she once was, dropping her shoes and bag along the way. 

When Natasha didn't reply to the pictures, she knew what time it was. Actually, she knew what time it was when she asked for muscle pictures. Only a needy Natasha would do that. And Katya knew, based on the millions of Instagram Reels her wife had also sent her today, that it wasn't just a regular horny episode either. Natasha was lonely.

The thought made her heart swell. They'd been together for most of their lives, yet Natasha still wanted to spend all of their time together if they could. Only then did she feel completely content and happy. She wasn't very good at verbally telling Katya that, but there were huge signs if you knew where to look. Like her behavior today.

Just in time, Katya stopped herself from chuckling when she stepped into the living room. Natasha sat on the couch like an angry child, scowling pettily and refusing to look away from the TV. She clearly wasn't happy with Katya's lack of attention today and wanted to teach her a lesson for it. Silent treatment was therein her lesson of choice.

"Привет, милая (Hello, honey)," Katya said slowly, crossing her arms as she leaned against the doorpost. The Russian was on purpose and came as a complete surprise to Natasha, who stiffened slightly. The words always hit just a little deeper if Katya switched back to their first language. "Почему ты дуешься (Why are you pouting)?"

Natasha looked conflicted, not sure what emotion to act on. One, anger; two, horniness; three, clinginess. She thought long and hard about her answer, not moving an inch as she did, pretending her wife was air. 

"I've been neglected," she accused Katya coldly. A good answer. It covered all three of her emotions.

Katya pushed away from the doorpost, slowly approaching her frozen wife. Like one would a scared cat. "I'm sorry, baby. That was never my intention." If Natasha listened closely—and Katya knew she did—then she could hear the amusement in her voice. That's probably the reason for the side-eye Natasha gave her when she sat down next to her. "How can I make it up to you?"

It didn't appear as if Natasha was going to answer. She stayed silent for so long, her steel expression directed at the TV, that Katya nearly gave up. A minute longer and she'd have stood up to prepare some sweet gesture. But then Natasha slowly leaned into her. 

It was barely noticeable if Katya wasn't hyper aware of her to begin with. But slowly, very slowly, her wife's body tilted her way. When Katya opened her arms, it went faster, until Natasha was fully resting against her chest. Eagerly, Katya wrapped her arms around her body. Natasha didn't fully relax; silent protest.

"For now," she said warningly, before Katya got too happy.

The brunette frowned. She was still happy, don't get her wrong, but hugs weren't exactly what she expected when she drove home. "Does—"

"Sex later."

Of course, Natasha read her mind. 

Katya hummed in acknowledgement, like it didn't make her incredibly excited. Natasha would push her off the couch if she set one foot wrong. Instead, she rubbed her shoulder carefully while Natasha kept pretending to watch the TV. If the redhead wanted to be stubborn a little longer, then Katya was going to let her. She could contain her own neediness for a long, long time.

Natasha's phone was safely tucked between her thighs, anxiously. How big were the chances that Katya's pictures would pop up if she unlocked it? She was too scared for her hand to find out. 

"Did you like them?" She asked, failing to hide the smugness in her voice. The thin ice she tread on cracked beneath her feet.

"They'll do," Natasha answered, uninterested.

Katya nearly snorted, but she settled for a half smirk Natasha couldn't even see. "You know, there's nothing wrong with admitting that you like them.''

"I said, they'll do," the redhead corrected sharply.

"Okay."

Natasha's scowl deepened when she heard how sarcastic that answer was. Anyone walking in would think the TV personally offended her. "Stop being so cocky."

"You don't think I have a reason to be?"

"I didn't say that."

"You don't like it?"

"You're putting words in my mouth."

"I wish I was putting something else in—" Natasha's death glare cut her off. It was brief, but powerful, and the woman settled right back into Katya's chest afterwards.

"You have the right to be cocky, but you still irritate me," Natasha mumbled through gritted teeth. 

Katya dared to smile after the fear left her system. "Why?"

"Because you know damn well what it does to me, and it's unfair to have so much power over me."

It took all her willpower not to chuckle. Katya magically managed to keep her body still too. But it was going to be her words that would trigger Natasha. "Aw, is this your power struggle-struggle again?"

It was finally too much. With an angry huff, the woman pushed away from her, a dangerous fire flickering behind her eyes that matched the fiery color of her hair. She was absolutely stunning. "I would be very careful if I were you. What you say or do next could determine your near future and if you'll still have one."

This would be terrifying for anybody else in Katya's position. Even Clint would think this was a good time to shut up, but it was Katya's goal to rile her up as much as she could. Because the only way Natasha was going to let it out was by destroying her later. In a good way. Upstairs. 

She shrugged indifferently, scooting to the edge of her seat. "You want to live the rest of your life alone? Okay.'' Before she could lift her butt off the couch, she was yanked down by the front of her shirt. One blink of her eyes and Natasha was on top of her, her fingers digging into the tight muscles of her arms. Katya bit back a smirk. She knew the pictures hit her hard.

''You're not going anywhere.''

[leosficlist]

Post S3 Getting Together

Here for your reading pleasure are the fics I had bookmarked that take place after Series 3 or diverge from canon somewhere in there. Post-Mary, some acknowledging the wedding, a few with Rosie.

Lines Written In Kensington Gardens by CaitlinFairchild 6.1k words

Thirty-five was the established boundary, Sherlock decided after extensive calculations. He would be dead by thirty-five. That was the kind of man he was. That was the kind of life he lived.

At thirty-four, a year before his appointed rendezvous with oblivion, Sherlock met a man. Nobody special, or so he thought, an ordinary man--who soon proved extraordinary, a man who killed without hesitation to protect a life Sherlock cared nothing about.

This is the story of how Sherlock Holmes lived long enough to grow old.

Vena Cava by SilentAuror 27.4k

Sherlock has been shot in the chest; John has been shot in the heart. Though everything is broken, they do their best to heal the wounds that Mary left on them both.

All Wrapped Up by ThorntonsHeart 4.9k words

“John is back in Baker Street where he belongs but the Christmas present wrapping isn't going well! Of course, it's just another one of Sherlock's amazing gifts that he can wrap anything. John challenges him to prove it. Silliness ensues, chances are taken and the boys finally get everything they ever wanted for Christmas.”

notes: slight pwp, but romantic and lovely getting together

Nobody, Not Even the Rain, has Such Small Hands by miss_frankenstein 3.6k

“Will you need fresh socks?”

Sherlock’s voice immediately brings John back to the present. “What?”

Sherlock gestures irritably to the wet socks clutched in John’s hand. “Socks,” he says again sharply because he hates repeating himself, “Will you need fresh socks?”

notes: set somewhere in S3, John finally seizes his chance with Sherlock, Mary be damned. kinda arguing pre-confession

Your Daughter by agirlsname 9.3k words

Five times Sherlock held John's baby and one time he held John.

John didn't forgive Mary for shooting Sherlock, so the end of HLV didn't happen. When the baby comes John lives with Sherlock at Baker Street, and they take care of the newborn together. Sherlock adores her more than he's prepared for. Oh, and he might have something important to confess to John...

notes: absolutely beautiful devotional from Sherlock to the babygirl, who has no name mentioned.

Right Hand Man by SilentAuror 42k words

When John's left arm becomes paralysed after a car accident, Mary asks Sherlock to take him back to Baker Street to recuperate, as she's about to give birth. Despite the fact that the search for Moriarty is ongoing, Sherlock takes John in and takes responsibility for overseeing his rehabilitation as he adjusts to the loss of his arm.

notes: loved their slow paced getting together, heart clenching intimacy. post s3 in that it acknowledges that Mary shot Sherlock.

Are you happy? by amateurwriter 2.9k words

"The only option is, that you have some sort of a plan. Some crazy, brilliant plan that requires me living with her. So please, Sherlock. Tell me. I won't even be mad that you're keeping such essential things from me again. I promise. Just tell me. Tell me it's not much longer and I can come back here and just be with you like we were before. Tell me, Sherlock."

notes: porn with plot

Inked in Memory by 221b_hound 9.7k words

John has been back at Baker Street for a year, following the debacle that ended in Mary's death. Things are good. Back almost to what they used to be. Sherlock might wish they were something else, now, but he only has himself to blame, he thinks. It's too late, now, for the things he first denied before he'd ruined any chances he might have had.

Sherlock also thinks that people who get tattoos are idiots. But perhaps he's about to learn a thing or two, not least of which might be it's not as late as he thinks it is.

Many Happy Returns by sussexbound  5.5k

One did not surprise Sherlock Holmes on his birthday. It was not his ‘thing’. It was rarely appreciated. John knows this. He knows, but… [] But John can’t forget. [] All those things only made John love him more, but therein lies the problem, and the source of all his current turmoil. John loves Sherlock.

The Romance Was There by apliddell 4k words

In which Sherlock reveals his merits as a housekeeper, and a few other things, too.

notes: christmastime, domestic fluffy, harry over for the holidays, sharing a bed, sherlock writes a love letter

Eggs and Toast and Love Confessions by allonsys_girl 10.3k words

These two really are such idiots, but they figure it out in the end.

notes: loved their characterizations and their chemistry, realistic first time after getting together, john's bad at talking about his feelings

State of Flux by Atiki 24.6k

John’s marriage is over and he is finally back home (i.e. at Baker Street, where he belongs). Sherlock is awfully insecure and John is awfully hesitant, and they're both awkward idiots, of course, but they figure it out. Many First Times happen.

notes: love how they talk about their feelings, slowburn that doesn't drag

The Date (reprise) by distantstarlight 1.9k words

Sherlock Holmes is feeling low and blue but John is having none of it. It's Christmas Eve, and things to do.

notes: fluffy christmas getting together, mentions of mary so putting it in post s3

The Dread Pirate Roberts by loveanddeathandartandtaxes  1.2k words

"We first need to know if this new Moriarty is as… zealous as the last.” “I bet your boyfriend wasn’t secretly a lying assassin who tried to kill your best friend, though,” I can’t resist grumbling. Ever the drama queen, he throws his hands in the air and sighs loudly. “Can we please - just - focus, John?” Putting my hand to my face, I shake my head. “I’m sorry, I just thought having boyfriends wasn’t a thing you did.”

notes: if you like john leaving mary for sherlock

[acewritesfics]

I'm Late | Jay Halstead

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Request: From anon

Fic Type: Imagine. Can be read as a prequel to Baby Halstead

Prompt: "You're my voice of reason but right now I need you to shut up." 

Warnings: Mentions of feeling sick, period talk, pregnancy.

Word Count: 1,921

JAY HALSTEAD MASTERLIST | TAG LIST SIGN-UP

⚠️ THIS IS A REPOST FROM MY MAIN BLOG @/DLMLUFICS. UNFORTUNATELY, I HAVE TO DO IT THIS WAY. MORE INFO IN MY PINNED POST.

As Y/N studies the file Trudy handed her as soon as she entered the station, she is slouched over with her elbows resting on her desk and her fingers massaging her temple. She finds it difficult to focus on the written words on the papers, and the more she tries the worse her nausea and headache becomes. 

Jay ends their conversation with Atwater about their weekend plans and turns to face his girlfriend when she doesn't respond to a question, he's asked her. His face furrowed into a worried expression. She didn't look well last night and this morning, her mood was all over the place, and she had been strangely quiet since they had their morning shower together. 

"Are you okay?" he asks after he gets her attention. 

"I'm fine," she sighs as she shoots up from her chair and rushes out of the bullpen and into the restroom, a wave of nausea washing over her once more. 

Jay wasn't the only person who noticed the odd shift in Y/N. He steps out from behind his desk as Kim gets up from hers, assuring him she'll go check on her. As he sits down, he nods, silently thanking her. His concern for his fiancée has him unable to concentrate on the file in front of him. He leans back in his chair, monitoring the entrance, nervously chewing his cheek, and tapping his pen against his knee as he waits for her to return. 

Y/N is slumped over one of the toilets in the restroom, unsure if the bile in her stomach will come up. She shuts her eyes and wills her stomach to stop churning and her head to stop spinning. 

"Y/N?" From the doorway, Kim's quiet voice can be heard. 

She stands up and braces herself against the cubicle's metal walls as her head spins, calling out to her from the end stall, "In here." 

"Are you sure you're alright?" Kim asks, her expression apprehensive. In comparison to five minutes ago, Y/N looks worse. She nods her head before swinging her head side to side. The brunette detective steps forward to comfort her. "What's wrong?" 

She informs her, "I'm late." 

"Late?" Kim questions her. When Y/N gives her a look, Kim's eyes widen in surprise. "How late are you?" 

"About 2 to 3 weeks," she responds, recalling last night when she realized her period was late. She never kept track of it, but every month, give or take a few days, she always got it around the same time. However, it was never this late.  

She first reasoned with herself that she might not have remembered having it two weeks earlier since she's been so preoccupied with work, the upcoming wedding, and the drama going on between her parents. But then she remembered back to seven weeks ago. She'd gotten her period the Monday before her, and Jay went away for the weekend. She was down to her last two sanitary items when it ended the Friday morning they left for the cabin. She made a note in her phone to get more when her period started next. That Friday night and Saturday had been spent mostly in bed and there might have been one time they forgot to be careful. 

"Do you believe you might be?" 

"Maybe. I'm not sure," She breathes. 

"Have you spoken with Jay?" 

Shaking her head, Y/N "It might just be pre-wedding jitters, right? When you're under pressure, periods can be late." 

"Is Jay still going out with Will tonight?" Kim enquiries. 

She nods, "He is. Will said something about it being bachelor party business." 

"Well then, how about a girls' night at your place?" Kim suggests. "I'll provide the snacks and pregnancy tests, and you can order some pizza and choose the movies." 

"I don't have a choice, do I?" Y/N asks, looking at her anxiously. 

"Hell no," Kim smiles.  

She asks jokingly, "What would I do without you, Kim Burgess?" 

"Crash and burn," Kim responds. "This is what best friends and work partners are for. Now, let's get back out there before Jay bursts in with guns blazing." 

Kim leads Y/N out of the restroom, then let's go of her when they reach the bullpen. Jay is still waiting warily at his desk when Y/N approaches him. Her legs are crossed in front of her as she leans on his desk with her arms folded across her chest. 

Looking up at her with the same deeply concerned blue eyes as before, he asks, "Everything okay?" 

"I've got a headache but it's finally going away," she tells him, and it's not a lie. "Kim is coming over tonight while you're out with Will. Bachelorette party business." 

"You know, we could disappoint them both, forgo the bachelor/bachelorette parties, and just spend the night together, just the two of us," he proposes, a hopeful look in his eyes. Jay is still unaware of his brother's plans for his party, and a part of him is afraid to find out. 

"And rob them of their duties as best man and maid of honor?" she asks, smiling and feeling considerably better than a few minutes ago. For the time being, she pushes her possible pregnancy to the back of her mind as they focus on wedding talk. "We'd break their little hearts, and I don't think I can handle Kim staring at me with those puppy eyes." 

He concurs with her, saying, "I don't think I can handle seeing them too." 

She reassures him, "It was a wonderful suggestion, though. Perfect even." 

He smiles again, this time with a mischievous glimmer in his eye, "Maybe next time." 

"Next time?" she asks, pretending to be upset, knowing he was joking with her.  "Honey, I may not be the first person you said, 'I do' with, but I'm damn sure going to be the last." 

He chuckles, "I meant in 40 years when we renew our vows, and the kids are all grown up." 

Her smile falters a little at the mention of kids. Jay catches it, but Hank exits his office with a piece of paper in his hand before he can say anything. 

"Halstead, Upton, I need you two to go check out this person," he orders, handing Hailey the piece of paper. 

"I love you. Be safe," Y/N instructs Jay as he gets up and puts his jacket on. It was something the two of them say often before they leave the district without each other. 

"I love you too and I will," he responds, kissing her lips briefly before following Hailey down the stairs. Y/N returns to the file on her desk, now that she can focus better on it. 

Later on in the evening, Y/N sat by herself on the couch as she awaited Jay's return from his night out with his brother. Before Kim and Hailey, whom Y/N had invited when she and Jay returned to the district, forced her into the bathroom, she managed to spend a significant portion of the night avoiding the two pregnancy test boxes that were sitting on the kitchen counter. Hailey didn't require much persuasion once Kim explained what was going on; she immediately agreed to whatever Kim had planned. It was a two-on-one situation, and Y/N regretted agreeing with Kim's plans for tonight. 

Just as they were about to find out the results, Jay called Y/N to let her know he was on his way back home. Kim and Hailey both agreed that they should leave so that she could talk to Jay alone but made Y/N promise to keep them in the loop. After the two left, Y/N became too anxious to look at the tests herself and left them sitting on a paper towel beside the bathroom sink. 

It felt like an eternity passed before she heard Jay's key in the lock and the door opening. She stands up and moves around the coffee table to meet him halfway.  

"Hey, can we talk?" she asks him, her voice wavering with nerves. 

"Yeah. What's up?" he asks, the bright smile on his handsome face fading as he takes in her nervous appearance and voice.  

Biting the inside of her cheek, her head is flooded with 100 different ways she can bring up the pregnancy tests in the bathroom. She starts rubbing her hands together, to give them something to do and to stop herself from pacing a hole in the floor. She's never felt so anxious about telling someone something before.  

"Talk to me," he gently tells her when she remains quiet, too far inside her own head. Jay looks at her worried and takes her hands into his. He strokes the back of her hands with his thumb, calming her slightly. "What's going on? Did something happen tonight? Are you feeling sick again? Did your headache come back? Are you-" he begins to ramble only to be cut off by her finding her voice again. 

"I love you so much, Jay. I really do. You're my best friend, the love of my life and," Y/N starts, her voice thick with nerves. "You're my voice of reason but right now I need you to shut up." 

"What's going on?" he asks, letting her words roll off him. "You've been acting weird since last night." 

Her mind blanks as she tries to find the words to tell him that on top of becoming a husband in a month's time, that he almost might possibly be a dad also and the tests to determine whether he will be a dad or not are currently on the bathroom counter waiting to be looked at.  

Getting an idea, she hurries into the bathroom, leaving Jay standing there confused by her actions. He doesn't recall a time that he's seen her like this, ever, and to say he isn't concerned would be the biggest understatement of the century. 

She comes back holding the test in her hands and tells him, "I can't bring myself to look at them." 

The look on his face turns from one of concern to a look of surprise. "It would explain a lot."  

She nods agreeing with him as she sits on their couch. He moves to sit next to her. "If the tests are positive, the only thing that's going to change is that we're going to be parents." 

"And if they're not?"  

"Then we can try when we've settled into married life." 

"I love you," she says looking at him, still avoiding looking at the tests.  

"I love you too," he smiles, kissing her softly. He takes one of the pregnancy tests from her, "Ready?" 

She nods again. They both look at the tests in their hands, both having the two small pink lines come up.  

"Looks like we're getting married and having a baby," Jay says looking at the test in her hands, seeing that one is also positive.  

Y/N looks at him, seeing a small smile on his face. "Are you okay with that?"  

"When I proposed, I said I wanted to do it all with you and that included starting a family. It's just happening a little sooner than we expected. So, I'm more than okay with that." 

"How did I get so lucky?" she smiles lovingly at him.  

"I ask myself that every day," he says kissing her again, his hand moving to her belly. "You're going to make an amazing mom." 

She covers his hand with hers, her smile growing, "And you're going to be an incredible dad." 

TAGGED: @mrspeacem1nusone - @halsteadbrasil - @allisonargent144 - @cs-please - @alexxavicry - @nicole-19s-world

[theweirwoodfiles]

The Weirwood Files: Rhaewin (Rhaenyra x Harwin)

Subject: A defense of Harwin Strong and an analysis of his relationship with Rhaenyra.

I want my first real post to be a deep dive into the beautiful relationship that is Rhaenyra x Harwin, a relationship that team green considers shameful, while team black (mostly staunch daemyras), finds it shallow and boring. I believe both interpretations are incorrect, as even with their limited screen time together, Emma and Ryan managed to tell a beautiful love story, even in just the way they looked at one another. With a single look, so much was said without a word being spoken. 

One thing that Rhaewin has begun to get criticism for lately, is the idea that Harwin is no better than any other man in Rhaenyra’s life, that he too has groomed and taken advantage of her, that perhaps he is no “saint” as he seems to be treated by the fandom. 

The truth is, there is nothing within the canon to suggest this. The first moment we get between them is when we see Harwin giving Rhaenyra an encouraging look after she returns from killing the boar. Nothing here implies he is lusting after her. Instead, Harwin merely just stands out as being the only one at the hunt to look at her with admiration while everyone stares in confusion or judgment. 

The next two scenes we are given of them also definitely don’t have any hint of predatory behavior from Harwin. He runs into her after she snuck out with Daemon and presumably decides to keep her secret, and the one after that he carries her away out of the chaos during her wedding after being given permission by his father, the hand. 

There is no canon evidence to support Harwin groomed her. Grooming implies a pattern of behavior over time that we do not see from Harwin. He and Rhaenyra have no pre existing relationship before they conceive Jace, Harwin does not even put himself forward for her hand during her marriage tour. Harwin does not commit any predatory actions towards Rhaenyra. 

This quote by Sara Hess is the closest we have to an official canonical description of Harwin, and while granted, Hess has said her fair share of questionable things in the past, there is nothing in the canon that disputes what she said. 

“He’s one of the more unambiguous characters, he’s just a good dude. You don’t see him off doing morally questionable things, which almost everybody else is doing. They’re so flawed and human and messy. He was able to be a paragon of decency and generosity and handsome strength. He’s one of the guys you could just love and feel great about loving and then he’s ripped from you too soon, before he does anything that could fuck that up for you. He’s our perfect angel.”

With this settled, I want to move on to their actual love story. We know they did not have much time together before they conceived Jace, considering the timeline of events. What we can put together at least, is that Rhaenyra was in a vulnerable position with Laenor. After they tried several times to conceive and failed, she needed to secure her position quickly and found solace in Harwin, who proved himself to be one of the only trusted figures she had in court. 

The next time we see Rhaewin is after the time jump. They have already had two beautiful sons together and another has just been born. Despite this implied intimacy, they have to hide their affections, only able to give each other coy smiles and a playful line here and there. Harwin holds their newborn son and Rhaenyra looks at the sight with adoration, yet also a hint of sadness, as if she is thinking of a world where they could be open about their love. In the night, they are in each other’s arms and make sons, princes of the realm. Yet in the day, these stolen moments are all they can afford.

The next time we see Harwin, he points out Criston Cole’s lack of care in his son’s training. He attempts to teach Jace as distantly as he can, and it is very clear he is increasingly frustrated with only being able to go so far in his son’s teachings. In the end, Cole still provokes him, and Harwin unleashes his anger on him. All the pain and frustration of only being able to love Rhaenyra and their children from afar is let out in the form of this beatdown on Cole. 

It would not follow without consequence however. Harwin is ordered to leave his position as Commander of the City Watch and go back to Harrenhal, away from Rhaenyra, away from their sons. Ryan Corr does an amazing job in this scene and you can just feel his utter devotion when he says one of my favorite lines from the show “you have your honor, and I have mine”. 

In a world where conceiving bastards is considered sinful and shameful, Harwin sees their union as one of love and honor. His sons are not treacherous reminders of sin and lust, but worthy princes born of love.

Rhaenyra and Harwin’s final scene together is one of the most heartbreaking scenes in the show. Rhaenyra is losing one of the only trusted figures she has in court, the man she sought comfort in and who fathered her three sons, and Harwin is losing everything that means the most to him. And once again, despite the privacy, despite the fact that this is their last moment together, they still cannot be open about their love. There is no final kiss goodbye, not even a hug. There is only a single look between them that says all we need to know, and a hopeful promise that Harwin will return. 

One of the most tragic things about this scene is that Jacaerys picks up on everything between them. He sees the looks shared between them, the desire for a hug or a kiss, he sees it all and he knows what it means. His mother and father have a love story that they can never tell anyone about, not even their own son. 

TL;DR: Rhaewin is a beautiful yet tragic twist on the knight and princess love story trope. Those that see this relationship as shameful have had their brains rotted by team discourse who buy into the “bastardphobia” present in universe (despite the fact that that is constantly criticized by the narrative itself), and wave it away as a “mistake”. There is nothing at all shameful about their relationship, and their sons were not made of sin, but of love. Rhaewin is also far from boring or shallow, to say this is to insult the work done by Emma and Ryan. There is a very beautiful, and rich love story between these two characters for those that have eyes to see it.

[gayeddieagenda]

2024 fic roundup

tagged by @iinryer!! i had soo much fun writing fic this year (and im working on plenty more, though not any that will get posted before the new year).

quick stats: 11 fics, 49,015 words. averaging over a fic a months since i picked up writing fic again in april(ish). i love buddie and i love writing fic and i love everyone who's read anything i've written this year <3

APRIL

i wear your socks and slippers - 6k, slightly post-get together; buck and eddie discovering that they can't just stumble into a relationship and have to talk about it, actually

With Eddie, though–when Eddie looked at Buck like this, Buck came to an easy stop to meet him.

MAY

it's not like a movie when we kiss - 12k, in progress, post-season 5; eddie takes buck home after hen and karen's wedding

“You’re good to me,” Buck says. His voice is quiet enough that Eddie could almost believe he isn’t hearing Buck, just feeling his words somehow. “You’re good for me.”

JUNE

one single static frame - 4k, pre-buddie, pre-season 8; a classic buck and eddie babysitting jee-yun and mara fic

Eddie wanted to turn around and see Buck. He wanted Buck’s hand on his shoulder, the first thing that felt anywhere close to good in a day. He wanted Buck in his house; he wanted Buck to stay there. Eddie wanted something, the one thing, that has always felt easy. He wants that now.

JULY

here's my hand, there's the itch - 4k, talking on the phone fic <3; eddie calls buck from texas

“Eddie?” Buck says. He feels obvious, in a middle-of-the-night, just-woke-up kind of way, like Eddie will hear his voice and know every thought Buck’s had about him for the past two days.

SEPTEMBER

cool dry place - 5k, pre-season 8, getting together; buck and eddie trying to figure out what, exactly, they're ready for

He wondered what it would be like if Eddie could see into his head, if he knew what Buck thought about when he looked at him. In his head, Eddie smiled at Buck just like this.

stand there and get hit - 6k, pre-buddie; eddie tries to talk to buck about his new relationship and stumbles headfirst into his own feelings about it

He told himself he would do everything right, and if all blew up in his face—wounded, wife gone, the only thing in his life that wasn’t ruined a kid who barely knew him—then at least he’d only failed in the ways they all expected him to. He wasn’t remarkable.

OCTOBER

all tumblr emoji prompts, all the time:

a new year - 1k, new year's eve get-together fic

Eddie's smile was small, a private thing between them. His eyes were lit up with something bright and amused. Buck couldn’t stop looking at them.

reaching, reaching - 1k, bandaids and hand holding and getting together

Eddie could feel the hairs standing up on the back of his neck. Eddie had an old feeling brewing in the pit of his stomach—the yawning sense that they were standing on the brink of something.

one of those things - 1k, pre-relationship; mistaken for being married fic

“No, Buck,” Eddie says. He rubs a hand over his face. “I’m coming to terms with the fact that half the parents of my son’s friends think I’m married to you. I’m not spiraling about it.”

NOVEMBER

ode to joy - 3k, s8e6 coda; a classic ill-advised post-breakup hookup between friends

This close, he feels the hitch in Eddie’s breath before he hears it.

in a heartbeat - 1k, tumblr emoji prompt fic; eddie returns from texas and buck checks for his pulse

“When do you want to have it?” Eddie asked. He’s angry, and he’s picking a fight, and he can’t stop himself, when this is how he gets to talk to Buck now: in broken halves of conversations, eight hundred miles away. “When you visit in six months? When Chris graduates high school in four years?”

[jerzwriter]

Thank you, Nonny, for this ask. This worked out perfectly because Ethan x Kaycee celebrated their first wedding anniversary - the "paper" anniversary. I hope you enjoy this little drabble!

Story: Open Heart (Post Series) Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Kaycee MacClennan (F!MC) Rating: Teen Words: 845 Summary: Ethan doesn't get the logic behind the "paper" anniversary, but as they celebrate a special day, he may have something up his sleeve.

A/N: Participating in @julychallenge Pink: Romance & Love

Ethan groaned as the first beams of sunlight streamed through the window of their beach home; shifting under the covers, he reached around, searching the bed for his missing wife. Typically, he’d be the first one up, attempting to lure the love of his life out from under the covers with the aroma of her favorite breakfast cooking on the stove. A Herculean task, at best. But even when being coaxed with the things she loved most... him and delicious food... she'd beg for just a little more precious sleep. He had no doubt of Kaycee’s love for him, but if she were forced to choose between him and sleep? He wasn’t confident that he’d be the final victor.

That's what made today's narrative so unusual. Kaycee was already up and about, bustling with the energy of a morning person that they both knew she was not. He heard her climbing the stairs, humming a song he knew well enough to place as belonging to Taylor Swift but not well enough to determine the song. She lept into the room with a grin brighter than the morning sun.

“Good morning, gorgeous!” she chirped, leaning over to kiss his forehead.  

“Good morning," he groggily replied. "Why are you so cheerful at the crack of dawn? While we’re on vacation, no less?”

Kaycee giggled and pulled the comforter down, tossing pink heart-shaped confetti over his bare torso with a playful giggle.

“Because it’s our anniversary!” She jumped onto the bed and threw her arms around him as he sat up."

“Mmmhhh,” he groaned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Can we spend the day here? In bed?” His fingers reached up and played with the hem of her shirt. "I know how to make it very fun.”

“I know for a fact that you do!” she smiled, placing another peck on his cheek. “And we’ll get to that, I promise! But we have other things to do first.”

“Like you throwing confetti at me?” he grinned.

“Paper confetti,” she emphasized. “Because it’s our paper anniversary.”

Ethan rolled his eyes, unable to hide his disdain. “Our paper anniversary. Who comes up with this nonsense? Hallmark? So they can sell more paper cards?"

"Maybe," she shrugged. "It's just a tradition, Ethan! It symbolizes a new beginning—the fragility of a new marriage. I think it’s sweet.”

“Well, first, I don't think of our marriage as fragile, and second, paper? Paper has no value. What’s next cardboard? Perhaps oak tag?”

 “It’s not about the material, Ethan. It’s about what it represents. There are plenty of ways to make it special.”

“Like writing each other love notes?” he teased.

“As a matter of fact,” she said, rushing to the dresser and returning with a red envelope in hand. “An anniversary card for you!”

But this time, it was Ethan's turn to surprise her. Reaching into the drawer of his nightstand, he pulled out a small pink envelope of his own and a small bouquet of paper flowers. Kaycee gasped, kicking her feet with delight as he handed them to her.

“Ethan!” she beamed. “When did you... how.... this is adorable!”

“I’ve been working on it for weeks. Admittedly, I needed to call Sienan in for assistance after a miserable first attempt." He stopped to watch his wife, simply glowing as she gazed at the bouquet in her hand, lovingly tracing the edges of each flower and leaf with her fingers. “I know it looks like a third-grader made it, but without her help, I wouldn't have surpassed pre-school.”

“Stop it!” Kaycee insisted, leaning over for a kiss. “I love this! I can’t believe you made this for me.”

“I know I’m not normally a mushy guy...”

“No! You? Who is spreading such malicious lies!” Kaycee teased as Ethan raised an eyebrow.

“Are you done?”

Kaycee shrugged with a delicate smile on her lips. “Perhaps?”

Ethan cleared his throat and pulled her close under his arm. “I may not be a romantic at heart, but it’s our anniversary. I can't believe it's been one year since the second best day of my life.”

"Second best?" She frowned. "And what's the first?"

"Easy. The day you walked into Edenbrook's lobby and turned my world upside down - in the best possible way."

“Aww, Ethan!” Kaycee beamed.

“When I realized we’d be spending it here, the same place we said our vows a year ago, I knew you’d need a bouquet, so..."

“I would,” she smiled. “I mean, I love it, but why do I need it?"

Ethan glanced at the clock. “In nine hours, it will be exactly one year since we said our vows on this beach... and I thought we could repeat them later today, just the two of us. That is if you’re still willing to say them again after being saddled with me for a year!”

“Ethan,” she said, lovingly placing her paper bouquet to the side for protection before jumping on top of him and peppering him with dozens of little kisses. “Are you kidding me? I love you and want you more with each passing day. This is forever, hon!”

“Then it's a good thing our insurance has good mental health benefits,” he teased, rolling Kaycee onto her side. "I'm grateful you're a little crazy."

"Mmm-hmm. I'm crazy about you! Now, did you mention something about spending the morning in bed with me? Something about making it fun?"

"You better believe it," he grinned, pulling her t-shirt over her head and trailing soft kisses down her neck. "Challenge accepted. Happy Anniversary, Kaycee. I love you to the paper moon and back.”

A/N 2: I originally named this Paper Bouquet - but that gave too much away. But this is the way I imagine the bouquet to look:

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Tagging others separately.

[dollivication]

LEON S. KENNEDY REFERENCE POST - pervy!younger!step bro & mean!older!step sis!user rer2

tw: dark content! dead dove do not eat. non-con, dub-con, violence, incest

Leon was undeniably eager to meet his new sister after the marriage of your parents. It would turn out that he was far too accepting much too quickly, because he thought that he was going to be the older sibling. Y’know, the one to take care of his cute little sister, to spoil her rotten and jump to her aid as she’d shower him in compliments and gaze at him with admiration.

He didn’t know what to think when your newly wedded parents introduced you as his older step-sister. You beat him by 3 years, an unfortunate head-start that warranted teasing from other family members. It was so unfair.

Did he hate it? That.. was hard to answer. He wanted to, truly—but the firm yanks on his wheat colored locks made his tummy swirl in a delirious and questionable fashion. The jeering from you felt more like a rain of praise, blessing him with a flood to his drought. The shoving, the bleeding, the bruising, the aching. It was all such bliss.

Call him a wuss, please! Make fun of how he had such a pretty face, yet shit luck in securing a relationship with a woman even if his life depended on it. Tell him that all he was good for was to be bent over by a strong man and let him turn him into a sissy. It’s okay, he can take it—anything you say, goes, right? 

It’s why he’ll never speak up to his dad or your mom whenever you grope him under the table at dinner. He'll choke on his food at a particularly harsh grab that bordered on a punch, sputtering an excuse but not once muttering a word that would directly expose you.

He’s hurting, badly, but there’s something electrifying about it.

Maybe it’s the fact that you’re the only female he’s ever been touched by, and even though you don’t let him touch you in return, he can happily come to terms with such reality. Because, fuck, a girl is actually putting her hands on him. 

Leon is shivering beneath you when you straddle him within the late hours of the night, the house silent with the exception of his heavy breathing and the tune of crickets outside. Who gave you permission to enter his room?

Well, it doesn’t matter, the eldest sibling always gets to do as they please; a lesson you have reminded him of time and time again. 

You’re taunting him again, and he can feel the blood pumping through his veins, his heartbeat in his ears whilst his palms grew clammy. A cocktail of terror and thrill numbs his rationality, your younger step brother peering up at you with glazed eyes pleadingly—the kind you’d see in renaissance paintings. The male stiffens when your hand goes further than the area where a sibling is normally allowed to touch, your finger hooking itself on the waistband of his boxers.

It’s nothing impressive. His semi-hard cock falls on his stomach, not long enough to make anyone scream from fulfillment and definitely not thick enough to really feel. But there’s an endearing charm to it. The way it twitched, how it became shiny from his own pre cum which the bubblegum-pink tip freely produced. He doesn’t know what you’re thinking as you look him over, doesn’t know if the pitiful sight will make you realize just how fucked up the entire thing was. 

You don’t force his boxers back up. No—instead, you’re peeling off your own panties, and he catches a glimpse of the slickness on the cotton material before it falls to the floor. Did you find joy in this? He’s not sure if he wants to know. He’s not sure if what he feels is excitement or resentment.. Not until you’re on him again, your vomit-inducing coos plaguing his mind, and that’s when he realizes it. You’ve infected him. He’s just as sick as you are. 

Leon’s head is thrown back and hanging off the side of the bed as you bounced on his cock, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he let out cries from the mindfuck of complex feelings. “You moan just like a girl,” you mocked, but he could barely hear your voice taunting him over the slapping of skin and his own whines. It’s pathetic. It’s disgusting. But it has him seeing stars, his body jolting everytime you bring yourself down. 

Leon doesn’t know what to do with his hands. As of now, he’s forgotten how to talk, and in the morning he may forget how to walk. Your pussy is intoxicating him, more potent than any alcohol he might get his hands on. So he clings onto his bedsheets, feeling your warm and wet cunt wrap around his dick. “Hahh.. nnh..!” 

He is fighting to say something—anything—yet his attempts to use his voice only resonate throughout the room drunkenly. 

It’s too much, but his stomach is churning with a foreign heat, a strange coil taking place in the center that’s ready to give way into pure euphoria. It’s too much, bile is rising in his throat, but if he’s learned anything from porn; it’s that good boys always swallow. 

His mouth is open, his cute, plump lips glossy with saliva as his step-sister fucked him into his mattress. His bed had been the only place he’d sought security in. Now? 

Now, its purpose was defiled by the hands of a stranger his father claims is family. 

But, God, it felt fucking great.

Leon let out a disoriented sound when he felt a sudden lack of warmth and pressure, followed by a spray of liquid that sprinkled on his upper body and covers. Weakly perking his head, he was too late to watch you ride out your orgasm, only left with an impending imagination of how it would have looked. It was all so surreal, but a few blinks soon brought him back down to earth.. And—hey—weren’t you going to let him cum, too?

Your step-brother whimpered when you pulled yourself away, your face already returning to a blank slate, like you were guiltless and free of any and all wrongdoings. Perplexed, the younger man stayed silent, knowing it was best to just let you go as you slid your undergarments back on and walk right out his door. 

Leon couldn’t fucking believe it. He let his head drop back onto his bed again with a small rebound, groaning at the sensation of his throbbing cock that had just been promised and robbed of a release… “Why am I surprised?” He pondered. You always did shit like that on the daily, anyway. Always taking, never giving.

He pondered as stared up at his ceiling through half-lidded eyes, not much thought running through his head. Everything felt sticky, and his body had broken out into a sweat. He felt gross. Despite these unsavory feelings, his baby blues slowly trailed over to his pillow, and he paused his heavy breaths for a moment…. Goddamn it.

Leon let out a deep sigh, ignoring the dull ache in his limbs as he reached under the pillow, groping around lazily for a solid minute before his hand eventually found what he was looking for. 

A picture of you. 

He took in the image of you with your legs wide open, your chubby pussy on display with your sleeping expression in the background, completely unaware of his presence making the male chuckle breathily as he felt the twitching of his length come back full force.

“Fuck, sis..” he bit down on his bottom lip, tears prickling his eyes for the second time that night as he reached his hand down to grip his already sensitive cock. “Love you.. so, so much..”

And the coil came back.