#to be fair I think he also starts to realise that he is in love with Jaskier too

[affableramen]

Assorted creditor Pantalone x afab!debtor reader headcanons. Episode one

((highly requested))

tags: tsundere!pantalone ; condescending, slightly vulgar villain ; he is a meanie ; toxic relationship ; early stage of relationship ; manipulative Lone ; slight degradation+humiliation ; choking ; slap dynamics (you slap him) ; degrading names (“bitch”) ; pet names (“kitten”) ; sexual themes ; criminal themes ; pantalone has chronic illnesses

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT Madman’s note: I like mean guys and judging by what we know about Pantalone so far (Arlecchino’s voice-line, Lazzo teaser, Wriothesley’s weapon, Pantalone’s artefact) he fits this category perfectly. I see the pattern of a rude boy here. Charming on the outside but once he opens his mouth it’s disgusting (hahaha.) He probably likes mocking and lecturing others, that’s for sure vibing in the Lazzo. He also talks a lot (thanks Cholde). As for the toxic assorted au, Ik half of you don’t like reading gentle n sweet Pantalone, but when I see this man I just can’t imagine him being cruel to his lover who accepted him when the Gods did not. I really think he is very soft inside (with a person he trusts). He’s all about equality and fairness so probably he treats people the way they treat him, and if ur nice to him, well Panty acts with equal respect to you back. That’s for the personality part. Speaking of other aspects, at least you guys get a happy ending. Coz I hate bad endings. Don’t wanna fuck up huge efforts. The angst and struggle was worth it. Come get your man guys. He’s like the mean classmate who bullies you but is secretly in love with you. As for the gentleman part, I wish I could write something more than just him protecting the lady, coz I believe Pantalone to be a big deal of a gentleman who has his standards even though what he does for a living is very questionable. I’m afraid it will be too much information for this post already. I must also mention that he might say a lot of disturbing and condescending things in the beginning. Oh, and to avoid any misconception--i don’t like writing innocent readers. My reader is fierce, chronically exhausted and crazy.

⟣

“You will be my prize. A perfect fit for a powerful man like me. You have no friends, your parents are far away, the only person to care for you is your grandmother who was, for sure, foolish enough to take a loan from Northland Bank. You are helpless in front of me, and I enjoy seeing that smug smirk disappear from your face once you realise you’re completely at my mercy. All alone, with your life depending on me. And I will, by any means, show you mercy if you are worthy enough.”

Said Pantalone as your résumé was forcefully slapped down on his desk. Your past jobs, experiences and skills — all in front of him, in his long fingers which are sliding through the pages as if it were an action book.

Your grandmother, indeed, was the only dearest person you had and, unfortunately, in order to save your life (and future) she took the risk of becoming a debtor to the old devilish banker who was by any means an extremely questionable person.

You had a rough path of changing jobs, trying to find the most fitting and well-paid one, however ending up in only worse conditions. A few years passed like this, the workload traumatised you so much that you couldn’t believe two years had passed since you started doing work for a living. Your grandmother was too prideful to retire, but you both knew her money alone could not sustain your happiness.

And thus, you ended up under Pantalone’s sharp gaze. Now, standing up in front of him with an unfazed expression, knowing too well this man just adores chewing on others’ suffering.

“Fuck you and your long ass monologues”, you think but your face remains cold.

The tapping of his fingers suddenly stops. You feel your heart sink, and it makes you wanna vomit.

“What was that? The look on your face just a moment ago”, Pantalone takes his glasses off and looks at you sharply. You can feel that heavy presence with your skin alone. The violet charm of his eyes suffocating you. His whole presence does nothing but choke you.

“Beg your pardon?” You narrow eyes and ask him as politely as possible.

“Were you thinking something a bit ago, dear? Or should I say, were you doubting my professionalism?”

“Shit, he is reading my mind. I have to think about something stupid.”

“You’re so untamed and so… wild, I’d say”, he says as he rises from his desk and approaches closer to you. “But alas, I can’t discount your value after one mere impression, can I? That would be too unconscionable of me as a businessman.”

You see him lean to your ear, his body bending cause of how tall he is, and you feel nauseous once he opens his mouth again.

“Your résumé is trash, but I’m not a monster everyone thinks I am. I will let you work under me because of how persuasive your grandmother has been. Though, I’ll be watching you, kitten. Perhaps I’ll even put you under my strict supervision—"

A sharp slap lands on his cheek. That is the moment Pantalone should realise that your pride cannot be underestimated. With his face thrown to the side, he pats his cheek, holding his fingers on the reddened skin.

“…at the lowest position”, he finishes the sentence. “Heh, the audacity of yours.”

Pantalone grabs your throat, your is suddenly pulled closer. While being choked heartlessly you turn your eyes to him and hold them for a few long deep moments.

“I’m not afraid of you”, the words come out of your mouth weakly. “Just let me work for you. I won’t be plotting anything. Not interested, to be exact.” He keeps suffocating you, you almost roll your eyes at the back of your head before the banker finally releases you. You slowly fall onto your knees. “Haah… hha…”

“I’d never be mean to a lady. But a particular someone just doesn’t know any manners.”

He signs the papers quickly, squeezes a used draft in a ball and throws it into the trash bin. The signature he leaves on your zero-hour contract is so lazily made as if the man wanted to deal with you as soon as possible.

“Don’t disappoint me. You wouldn’t like to see me when I’m angry.”

“Thank God”, you sigh in relief, despite being choked a few seconds ago.

His movements, his body are so quick and flexible, you do not notice how the eyeglasses return to his face.

“You have a zero hours contract here, but I’ll personally make sure you work not less than six days a week.”

“Just so you know, I won’t kill for you. That goes against my principles.”

Pantalone raises his eyebrows, giving you a bored look.

“I wouldn’t let you have a privelege like that anyway. I have enough henchmen of my own to stain hands with unneccessary violence.”

When the conversation ends, you go to the bathroom and throw out. This man gives goosebumps, and he is not easy at all.

To your biggest surprise, as a leader Pantalone turns out capable enough. Just seeing him intricately managing his resources and employees makes you admire him at some point. No matter how unattractive his personality, for sure, was, none could not deny the fact that he is a skilful individual. He possess finesse and determination. Though speaking of his other traits, you cannot ignore the fact how suave he is. Women touch him with or without his consent all the time. And you’d agree: the man is attractive. Affable demeanour in public, though quite closed in private. “Closed” is an understatement. He is, in fact, incredibly emotionally unavailable.

His ill-favoured personality, hidden under that affable demeanour and polished looks, however, could not prevent you from falling. For him. And you are gradually finding yourself more and more addicted to him. Brushing off these ideas as soon as possible, of course. Occasional touch of your fingers, frequent looks he’d give you. You cannot remember the exact moment when Pantalone started showing signs, but you remember well that his glances in your first meaning were anything but interest. As you are a “special” debtor with a large sum to owe, Pantalone almost cages you in his main office buildings. To your knowledge, there were a few of them, but out of all people the fate of working with him has fallen onto your shoulder.

There was one day when he scared you.

“You… killed someone?” You ask, holding your hand to your chest as you walk into his office to bring some papers. But they are dropped down the moment you see the so-called crime scene. The heavy metallic scent of blood blocks your breathing and you dream of disappearing from this room, however it is too late.

“Just taught a disagreeable debtor a valuable lesson”, Pantalone walks out of the shadows, lighting the cigarette right in his own office.

Your eyes widen at the sight of the blood on his face once he makes himself visible.

“What are you doing here? Ah, the job. I almost forgot.”

A panic attack crashes you sooner than Pantalone inquiries.

“Why the sour face? Just put the papers here and you’re dismissed.”

You look down at the body next, and even if!(fat chance) that person is alive, you cannot pull yourself back into the calm state.

“Are you deaf? Put your stuff on my desk,” the banker commands, wiping the blood off his cheek.

Your vision goes blurry when you see his stained with crimson skin and you feel like fainting.

“I don’t… exactly like… seeing blood, yes.” You turn away but lose your consciousness the moment after.

When you wake up you find yourself lying in the leather couch, a blanket dropped sloppily over your body. Pantalone is sitting at his desk per usual, working on his papers when he sees you slowly come to senses.

“Alive? Good. Now go back to your duties.”

You rise from the couch slowly, pulling the blanket down and slightly wobbly proceed to the door.

“Y/N.” Pantalone stops you with his voice.

“What now…” you think. But your expression softens one you hear what he tells you:

“There is a bottle of water I left for you on the desk. Take it. I’m not exactly eager reviving you after another fainting because your careless ass is dehydrated”, he stops writing with his left hand and says again, this time harsher: “And never enter my office announced again.”

“Thank you”, you take the bottle of water the Harbinger offers you. It has a distinct spicy scent from cologne lingering on it. “Your couch reeks of tobacco, by the way.”

One time, when you save him.

Pantalone storms into the office visibly injured and infuriated. You can see his secretary come up to him, presenting some sort of intel while her hand slips under his sleeve trying to pull his gloves out. You see it all through the small doorway.

“Lord Harbinger, you must have had a tough mission, let me release this stress of yours…”

The other employee of his, a male, presses a wet sponge against his expressionless face. Pantalone, seemingly weak and tired doesn’t respond immediately to the secretary boldly roaming her lustful hands over him but a while after his consciousness makes itself known. He grabs the recently presented papers and slaps the woman’s hand with them.

“Sir—”

“Have you two no shame? I need privacy. For once, just leave me alone!” He shouts, uncharacteristically to him. Both the secretary and the lowly subordinate rush out of the room under his strict command.

When the shift ends you can see everyone leave the office, however there has been not a single move from Pantalone’s office since he shut his door. You look on the clock, it’s already 9:15 p.m. Why is he not going home? You decide to spy on Pantalone. Soon, as everyone has left the office empty, you raise from your working desk and go to check on your CEO.

“Pantalone.”

You knock, but the response is none.

“Pantalone, coming in.”

You push the door slowly. Even his spicy cologne mixes up with the metallic scent of blood. You walk in the office and feel your heart sink at the sight: the banker is lying on the floor, as if he had fallen from his desk, there are lots of tablets scattered around the floor, and a bottle of wine, shattered, the salty smell filling your nostrils. The ashtray on his desk is full and messy. Everything looks chaotic and Pantalone himself is, for sure, out of character.

He is unconscious as he is lying on the floor. You rush to him, gently placing your hand on his shoulder and start shaking him.

“PANTALONE!!”

He doesn’t wake up and you have to resort to drastic measures. You slap him. At that, he finally comes to the senses.

“This is the second time you have slapped me. Are you not afraid of the punishment I might force upon you?” he asks, groggily putting his body into a sitting position.

“Why didn’t you go to the doctor?”

“I’m perfectly fine handling some scratch.”

“Just a scratch? Then, what are the tablets for? I thought they were painkillers.”

You see as Pantalone examines his own mess, and his expression is calm yet a hint of exhaustion can be spotted.

“Clever”, he says. “I was beaten up, and my muscles obviously hurt.”

“And the wine?”

“To relax.”

“I see.”

Pantalone eyes you once again, his face extremely pale and tired. “Are you done? You can go home.” He turns away from you, you don’t know what he’s doing but you hear a drawer being pulled and Pantalone let out a short sound similar to groaning. His knuckles turn white as he grips the edge of the desk. You see a used needle roll across the very same desk…

“You’re… you’re diabetic?”

“An astitute observation” (silently). “Didn’t I tell you to go home?”

You analyse him from the top to bottom and deem this person likely not being able to get home himself. You open your eyes to offer taxi, but realise that he has a personal chauffeur. “Right, rich people…”

“That’s all? You won’t even give me a lecture for spotting you in such a vulne-” Pantalone’s gaze becomes so evil that you rethink over the choice of your wording. “In such a predicament. I mean, shouldn’t your mighty self cut my tongue in order to prevent me from gossiping about your health concerns?”

“You’ve been reading far too many detective stories. I’m not so…” he sighs, realising that given the circumstances of his long list of crimes even as a polished businessman he is a perfect match to Meropide. So Pantalone cuts his wording as well. “Forget about it.”

“You sure will be alright?”

“Worry of yourself, it’s getting quite dark and seems like rain and thunder.”

Wow. That’s a gentleman indeed! He won’t even offer you a lift? You roll your eyes.

“I’ll get home just fine. And also, you reek of alcohol. Can’t have the employees think poorly of you.”

You don’t even know if you are happy with your doing or not, because if you didn’t wake him, he’d probably be lying there on the floor until the very morning.

As you’ve cleaned your desk and taken your coat on, ready to leave, you see that the raining outside has become even more aggresive.

You walk outside and slip on the first level of stairs. “Great.” Before you could dial the number of the taxi, you hear the voice behind you stopping you.

“Don’t need to spend money. You’re coming with my chauffeur.”

“No thanks, I am quite fine being al-ready indebted to you.”

“That won’t need repayment. You saved my life. If I were not woken up in time, and didn’t inject insulin, I would most certainly end up in a coma not long after.”

“Especially considering that you drank wine”, you think.

“If you insist. Look like today I’m but a slave of the weather conditions.”

Pantalone hums to your response and leads you to the sleek black car. He throws the door open for you and gets onto the back seat with you. Once he’s settled and you wait to be dropped off your place you notice the holes on his gloves, revealing already dry blood stained cuts. You are only able to see them properly now, due to your close proximity.

“May I ask who attacked you?”

“It happens quite often so no one is really surprised by now”, he clears throat. “An assassination attempt. But I’m faster” he gives you a warning look, by which you conclude that the killer is no longer alive.

“I see.”

As you’re dropped off safely to your place, you sneak into your bedroom before your grandma has questions. As you lie in bed under a fuzzy blanket you cannot brush his scent, the mix of spicy cologne with blood, off your mind. The sight of him almost helpless, injecting that insulin like he was on a thin ice, stays carved into your mind as well.

⟢

[spielzeugkaiser]

I am back for a hot second with the baby! Let's be real, Geralt gets a lot of heat in this au, but I do think he was very clear about what he could and couldn't be for Jaskier when they started this thing. Listening to this song later, and realizing that Jaskier was already in love with him at this point ... uff. Also a song about sacrifices in this au, from Jaskier??? *chef's kiss* also let's not think about essi in this au let's not let's just ignore this

[deadandphilgames]

oversharing in the tags time :)

[titansarmy]

and if i say canon adjacent, ivy inspired jasonxnico fic. i can’t stop you putting roots in my dreamland.

[endless-ineffabilities]

chemical override (3)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

Both having busy schedules and working in different cities, the reader and Ewan make an effort to keep contact with each other. Will Ewan ever make his feelings known? Will a possible scandal derail their budding romance?

A beautiful floral arrangement awaits you as you return to your hotel suite in LA.

Luxury red roses preserved in an elegant black velvet box, accompanied by a printed note on the side.

Congratulations on your new project, darling.

All my love, Ewan.

Your assistant had alluded to a special package having arrived just before you came in, and you're met with this.

It's the loveliest of gestures and you instantly wish to call Ewan to express your thanks. However the hour is late, the digital clock face reading 10 pm. You'd had a long day at work, having gone through the entirety of rehearsals once more. Filming will officially begin in September, and your focus is much needed as you step into a new role.

Noting the time difference - it would only be around 6 am in the UK - you decide to put off calling him for tomorrow.

It's only been a week since he first confessed that he misses you, and since then, he's had no trouble saying it each time you speak, almost as if the floodgates are opened and he's more confident in expressing himself with you.

I told you, Phia had simply said when you shared this with her.

The strong possibility of Ewan harbouring feelings for you has caused you to become distracted the past few days. If he does, why hasn't he asked you out yet? Granted, you'll be working long-distance for a while, but still.

You quickly wind down from a long day and soon find yourself comfortably huddled in blankets with your laptop propped open in front of you. Winding down, of course, includes some time scrolling on your phone or watching things without a care.

A new video catches your attention on Youtube's home page. One of the segments from Ewan's Vanity Fair feature.

Ewan Mitchell on his firsts and currents

You smile to yourself before you even realise it.

The video starts with Ewan introducing himself - "Hi, Vanity Fair. I'm Ewan Mitchell and I'm here to talk about my different firsts and currents." - He smirks at the camera. You smirk right back as if he can see you.

"So first ever role?" he says, directed by prompts behind the camera. "Technically, my first ever role was for a very small, short film called Stereotype ..." He laughs, remembering how young and inexperienced he was. "... and my current role - none other than the One-Eyed Prince. So far, my favourite as well I have to say."

He continues with his first and current favourite film, pets, song or type of music to get into character... and so on...

Then he gets asked about - his first ever and his current celebrity crush - "Uhhhmm," he looks to the side bashfully, clicking his tongue as he thinks of the simplest answer, "I don't think I had celebrity crushes growing up. It could have been some of the actors I admired, that inspired me... "

Such a classic Ewan answer, that one. You wonder how he would also dodge the question of his current celebrity crush.

"As for my current crush... well... it might be someone from the cast of House of the Dragon, actually." He smiles knowingly, as if he's aware that your stomach is in knots as you watch. Who will he say? Phia? Olivia?

"I really admire ... " He says your name, and your eyes widen like saucers. "She's an amazing actress - I think we can all agree - and a very dear person to me... "

Ewan, you sneaky charming bastard.

" ... so yeah," he shrugs, nonchalantly, but he surely knows he just sent you - and the entire fandom - into a tailspin. "I guess you could say she's my current celebrity crush."

Curious, you pick up your phone and get to scrolling. You've turned all your notifications off, not wanting to become occupied because of them during work.

Sure enough, it's an endless flurry of likes, comments, and messages.

In your most recent post, tons of people comment about Ewan's interview, trying to bring it to your attention.

hotdpolska29: girl, go watch Ewan's Vanity Fair video RIGHT. NOW.

melodygellerr: be honest, is this photo for Ewan???

peraltajake99: now she has to say that Ewan's her celebrity crush too !!!

cassiethemendler: forget Ewan... guys she's acc with jacob frickin elordi. Did yall not see the pictures

There's simply too many comments to go through. One statement and already everyone has formed their own opinion, their own conclusion about how things are in your personal life. It's one of the drawbacks of being in the public eye, and you still don't fully know how to handle it.

As part of PR for your new film, you and Jacob had been tapped to make appearances in public together, photographers hired to make it seem like the two of you are on a date.

The whole thing confused you. You're friends with Jacob, and naturally you hang out with him anyway. All this celebrity subterfuge seems unnecessary. But he was kind enough to guide you through it. "It's just part of the job," Jacob assured. "This whole Hollywood thing is silly, isn't it?"

Since you're both single actors, it wouldn't hurt for people to believe you might be dating. It attracts attention and any publicity is good as they say.

As long as you know what's true, then the public can believe whatever they want.

You end up liking and responding to some comments, and ignoring most of the other ones that pry too much into your private life. Never mind the haters, who also give their own two cents about your alleged involvements with Ewan or Jacob.

Suddenly, the screen is brightened from an incoming call from Ewan One-Eye . You are still pleased with yourself about the name. Your excitement is spiked as you press answer. Having a crush never gets old.

"Mornin', you," you greet him. 11 pm for you in LA, 7 am for him in England.

"Evening, darling," he says with a smile. He's still in bed, with one hand behind his head while the other has his phone pressed to his ear. First thing in the morning, and he feels compelled to call you. If that's any indication, the boy doesn't lie when he says he misses you every day. "You about to go to bed?" he queries.

"Mhmm," you hum, lying down and mirroring his position. "By the way, I think I've got a secret admirer or something."

"What? Who?"

Struggling to hold back a laugh, you continue, "I think you're missing the point of a secret admirer."

"Yeah, yeah," he sighs. "Anyway, what's going on? Are they bothering you?" He sounds worried already, but a bit more should be fun.

"No, but I found a box from them in my room."

"Did they break in?" He sits half-upright, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "Are you okay?"

"I'm okay," you breathe out a tired laugh. "Ewan, I'm - " ... kidding, you want to confess, but he rambles on.

"If you need me, I can take the next flight out."

"Ewan - honey - I am messing with you. I do appreciate the floral arrangment box, by the way, thank you."

A beat of silence. He slumps back down on his pillows. A smile creeps up unrestrained on his lips. He fondly thinks that his girl almost gave him a heart attack at 7 am.

And he loves it.

"You're welcome," he replies. "And if I wasn't fully awake before, then I am now. Good work, darling."

You're pleased - he didn't deny the admirer bit of it all.

"Seriously now, thank you. They're the best surprise after a long work day."

"I'm glad you like them," he says sincerely. "Rehearsals still going on?"

"Yup, two more weeks of this, then a month-long break, and finally filming in Atlanta."

"Hmm," he says, then pauses, framing his next question as best he can. "Are you... do they... that PR relationship business, is that - "

You help him to it. "Well, technically, yeah," you respond. "But they're not laying it on thick with Jacob and I. Everything is alleged by the media and no one will make any sure statements."

When you shared the truth of the pap walk, he had a bunch of questions about it. He had sounded detached and cold at the beginning of that call. Then you complained about relationships for publicity, and he quickly got the gist. You'd think his mood took a complete 360 then.

From sounding completely disinterested with Jacob, Ewan then took to reassuring you that he's a good guy who would respect your boundaries. He's still not a fan of the whole thing, but it's your job.

And... well... it's not like he's your boyfriend or anything. What claim could he have over you?

"And something you said has the public divided," you add.

"What did I say?" he smirks, playing it coy.

"Ewan."

"You're going to have to elaborate, darling."

An idea pops up in your mind. Two can play at this game, Mitchell. "Listen, I'm flattered that I'm apparently your celebrity crush, but you can't say shit like that! I don't think my boyfriend Jacob would appreciate it. He's very protective, you know."

A full minute passes, you hear his heavy breathing on the other line. He wants to curse out at the picture you presented but holds back for you.

Then, "You're so funny, darling."

You laugh genuinely, and all his worries dissipate. "I know."

"A downright comedian."

"Thank you."

"I can't believe you're my celebrity crush," he sighs dramatically.

"You put that on to yourself, mate."

"Hmm." He sure did. He wasn't lying in that interview - you are his celebrity crush, but that seems reductive. He likes you, he misses you, he loves being around you. "The only right answer would have been you. You're the one I think about all the time."

He says things like this, so sweetly, and it's everything. It drives you off kilter that you get tongue-tied at work when you think about it.

But he hasn't said or done anything more. The flowers were a nice touch, sure. Maybe he's gearing up to it? Does he have something up his sleeve?

In the moment, it appears not. He's flirty, as he always is, but you've had a damn long day and the butterflies in your stomach are exhausted too.

"Ewan, I'm gonna go to bed."

"Oh. Right."

"Long day tomorrow. You know how it is."

"Of course. I... I miss you, darling. Sleep well."

"Mhmm," you find yourself responding, not mirroring his statement. "Bye, have a good day."

You end the call, wondering if he caught on at the end. Perhaps you sounded a bit too dismissive, but a voice in your head says, hey - if he wants you, he gonna have to show you. It'll take a lot more than flattery and banter to win your heart completely.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

That night in London, Ewan sits in a corner booth of a pub with Tom, Luke and Elliott and it's relatively causal, with the boys just catching up over a few pints.

Until Luke mentions you and Jacob, questioning whether that whole story was real or not.

"Absolutely not," Ewan says immediately, shifting in his Adidas tracksuit as if to take up more space so the boys will pay attention. "I talked to her about it and it's all just PR nonsense, trust me."

"Look at this one gettin' all defensive." Tom claps Ewan on the back in jest.

"Well it's true," Ewan just shrugs. "They're not together."

Elliott jumps in, eager to rile Ewan up even more. "For now at least. I've heard that these PR couple things eventually get a little too real, if you know what I mean. The lines tend to get blurred."

Ewan slings his pint back, before engaging. "What do you mean?"

"Well, look at it this way," Elliott explains. "She hangs out with the guy a lot. They laugh, dine and work together. Maybe they even have to make out several times for the film. It's easy for feelings to spring up from all that business."

"Life imitates art, innit?" Luke offers.

"Yeah, maybe soon it won't just be PR. I've heard of some celebrity couples who did that," Elliott says.

Luke adds, "Wasn't there that one PR couple that got married and all? Who was it - I can't remember now - "

Tom intervenes, wary of the way with which Ewan grips his pint glass. "That's all nonsense, come on. Surely that's not a common occurence. I worked with all you guys, and I can't stand any of ya. If anything, she'll be so sick of Jacob after they work together." That earns him a laugh from the twins, who then assign him to get the next round as payment for that jibe.

Ewan stays silent, his mind whirring. Usually, the boys wouldn't mind. They know it's just his way, being a focused and observant lad on and off set. But they sense something else underneath.

The twins share a look, a bit guilty due to Ewan's expression.

Ewan looks up and reassures the table, "Hey, it's alright. Whatever she chooses to do, I get it."

"But come on, mate," Tom says. "Everyone knows you like her. Literally everyone. Even she knows it, I bet. Why don't you just make the bloody move already?"

"I dunno," Ewan starts, not sure of the answer himself, "it just didn't seem like the right time, with her being off across the pond for the rest of the year."

"So what, you're just going to let it slide? Do you want her or not?"

"Mmm, I do." Ewan keeps to himself most of the time. But Tom's got a way to loosen his taut edges.

"Well, as promised, I'm gonna get us all another round," Tom declares, earning cheers from the twins.

Two pints turned into three, then six, seven and so on. Pretty soon, the lads get properly and well smashed. Ewan's never been the biggest drinker, but when the social situation calls for it, he can put them back just as well as the next guy from the Midlands.

"So come clean, mate," Tom drawls, his arm slung around Ewan's shoulders. "Are you in love with her already or what?"

Ewan laughs, rubbing a hand over his face to wake up a little. It doesn't work - the glare of the warm overhead lights is strong and make him feel woozy.

"Could be," he says. "But that's none of your business." Smirking, he points at Luke, "Or yours," then at Elliott, "or yours."

"Hey! C'mon," Tom protests, feigning hurt. "Am I not going to be the best man at the wedding?"

"No way, Aegon the Magnanimous," Ewan shakes his head. "My brother'll be the best man."

"So there will be a wedding," Luke says. "Does the bride know about it?"

"He hasn't even asked her out yet," Elliott teases. "I triple dare you to ask her out right now. Right fuckin' now, Ewan."

"No," Ewan says, but in his sloshed out state, he secretly considers just doing it. "I gotta go for a smoke, lads. Tom was right, I can't stand you anymore."

"Oh, boo!" Tom shoves him out of the booth. "Hurry back, lover boy."

Ewan makes his way to the alley behind the pub. He's thankful that a pub at midnight offers the perfect setting to disappear into anonymity. Everyone's just as drunk or they simply don't care about celebrity culture.

He takes a few puffs of his cigarette, the nicotine quickly reawakening his nerves. Thinking back to the twin's suggestion, he thinks, why the hell not? Why shouldn't he ask you out already? Who cares about the PR shite? If word gets around that you're his, the facade about you and Jacob will get shelved.

With his cig lodged between his teeth, he has to take extra care to call you, the glare of the screen not doing wonders for his inebriation.

The lines beeps, and he's met with your voicemail. You must still be at work or just getting off it.

Still with Jacob. Something in him stirs, and it's not just the bloody alcohol.

He clears his throat, prompted by the notification to leave a message - "Hey, darling. Hey... beautiful... I guess I'm missing you and I... I miss you, isn't that funny?" he starts, proud of himself for making the joke. "I'm out with the lads right now... had a couple of pints. Maybe one too many? I don't know. And... uhhh - "

He stomps his smoke under his shoe, nervous ticks getting the best of him. Here he goes, make it or break it. "I was thinking about you. As I always do. Because I've never felt like this about anyone before. Ever. And I'm sorry it took me this long to ask, but I want to be with you. No - that's not right, it's too quick... I mean, yes, I want to be with you, but I gotta do this right. I want to take you out, properly, on a date. Will you... will you please? I've got some business stateside and I could have that scheduled sooner, and I could come see you. And we could... I just want to see you. So fucking badly, baby. I - I - okay then, I suppose that's all. Good... good morning? No - evening. You're beautiful and I just..." he sighs deeply, because words will never do you justice. "... goodbye."

The line cuts off and he tucks his phone away. Smiling to himself, he feels euphoric from getting that off his chest. The message was coherent enough, he thinks proudly, and it couldn't have sounded better all things considering.

If he could pat himself on the back, he most definitely would. He can already see it, the perfect first date with you.

The lads are going to go nuts over this, he knows for certain. He makes his way back inside the pub, a boy renewed.

A lover boy, as Tom and Phia call him.

No truer words have been spoken.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

It's 10 pm yet again when you make it back to your suite. Having notifications on your phone turned off while you're at work, you're met with a barage of messages and the usual social media frenzy.

But only one thing stands out - a voice message from Ewan One-Eye, sent just around 4 hours ago.

You settle in for the night, making sure you're all prepped to go to bed before playing it, thinking you can maybe call him afterward.

You hear the beep, and the message starts - "Hey, darling... uhhhh so hey, I - uh fuck I'm missing you right now, must be at work eh? And I miss you - " You note how he sounds drowsy but his words are punctuated. Like he's making an actual effort to simply speak. You realise he must be drunk. What's a drunk Ewan doing calling you? " - that's so funny, innit? Which suits cause I'm just a bloody joke cause I took too long... to tell you... that I... I think about you all the time, I'mcrazyboutyou y'know... I wanna be with you... withyou - " He's drunk, you keep reminding yourself that he's drunk. But the effect of his words aren't diminished. He's got you hooked. " - I got work out there too... so I'll - uhhh - see you then and... take you out then and - fuck - kiss ya... I want to kiss you so fucking badly, baby. You're perfect for me, and so beautiful, and I wish Aemond would wed your character cause - as th'twins said - life imitates art!" He snickers at his own remark, and it's the most endearing thing ever. "So... yeah, good, darling. Goodb - " and the line cuts off.

"What the fuck," is all you can speak out into the quiet room. Lying back on your pillows, you actually laugh out loud and kick your feet like a puppy-love drunk highschooler.

The sun is rising across the pond and Ewan has probably just made it back home, immediately collapsing in his bed all wasted.

But he's getting a call tomorrow - and you pray to the fictional Westerosi gods that his intentions are clear, drunk or otherwise.

Kismet is a funny thing. Once a fan of the show, you're now an actress on it, about to date the Aemond Targaryen.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Ewan's eyes flutter open. The sunlight is weakly coming in from the window shutters in his room. Confused, he glances at the digital clock face and it reads 6:18 PM.

So he slept through the whole day. Brilliant.

It's unlike him to mind his phone first thing after waking up, so he trudges to his bathroom to douse his face with cold water and brush his teeth for a good long while, trying to recall the events of the previous night.

It had the usual workings of a proper pub night with his lads, and he barely remembers the last night he got that sloshed. But anyway, all in good fun, and he genuinely enjoys their company so it must be worth the pounding headache he feels right now.

The lads... an unknown and possibly excessive number of pints... Oasis playing on the speakers... Tom generously buying a round of drinks for everyone in the pub... and of course, you.

The memory has his attention, and he thumbs through his phone as he makes his way to his kitchen to prep his staple black coffee with seven sugars.

He remembers it - kind of - leaving a voicemail, and he's pleased that he finally, finally asked you out. Never mind that it took him getting drunk off his noggin to do it.

But there's nothing from you. Not a message, nor a missed call, nor a voice note.

He tries not to let it worry him right away, but it does. Maybe you didn't hear it yet. Maybe you were too tired from work and weren't checking your voicemails.

Maybe... maybe...

His phone suddenly buzzes in his palm and he mumbles, fuck's sake, out of surprise. But it's not you calling. It's his publicist.

"Hello, good evening. How are you doing?" he greets cordially.

"Ewan!" she exclaims. "Finally! I've been trying to get a hold of you all day."

"Oh, right," he says guiltily, "I'm so sorry, I just had a long night and - "

"I know, Ewan, I know. The whole country - no - the whole world knows by now. Bloody hell, it's always The Sun, isn't it? Those idiots, I swear."

He straightens at that. If a tabloid is involved, it can't be good news. "What's happened?"

His publicist sighs, ready to relay the news, "The Sun did a story on you and the other cast members. About having a wild night out in the pub. It's useless fodder, really, nothing wrong with having a night out."

"Right, right... but - " Ewan says, sensing there's something more. Something worse.

"There's a picture of you with a girl - "

"What?"

"I think I've seen her before. She must be a cousin of the Tittensors? You know her, of course."

"I... I don't - "

"Anyway, according to the paper, you and her were flirting it up a storm at the pub. She had her arm around you and everything. Do you want to look it up now? I can give you a moment. I'll stay on the line."

"Fuck," Ewan mutters to himself as he does a quick search of his name. The headlines make him wish he never did so.

House of the Dragon Stars On A Wild Night Out: INSIDE SCOOP!

EWAN MITCHELL SPOTTED WITH MYSTERY LADY

Aemond Targaryen IN LOVE? See PICTURES Inside!

"I don't think I remember her," he swears to his publicist, "I was just drinking with the lads and there might have been others that joined us but I - what the fuck - I don't - "

"It's okay, Ewan," she reassures him. "We can deal with this. This bullshit just comes with the job, as you should know. It'll be fine."

No, it's not fine.

Because it dawns on him why he hasn't heard back from you.

"Fuck."

💌 next chapter

Taglist: @sprinklesprinkle888 @namelesslosers @skymoonandstardust @valyrianflower @luckyfirebasement @omgsuperstarg @elissanatok @callsignwidow @uwuuness @strbellz @sinistersnakey49 @darkwriteracademia @rhaenys-nyra @yyrzmomo @queenofshinigamis @luvaerina @shamelessblazecrown @mirandastuckinthe80s @elleinex0x0 @pierrotlu @aegonswife @cardiganlovesblog @strangersunghoon @darktrashsoulbear @lunampacheco @writer-ann-artist @gaiaea @of-swords-and-words @ateliefloresdaprimavera @m00n5t0n3 @helaenaluvr @peachysunrize @annie-ruk @luvly-writer @ananas26t @chixnugg22 @athenafaes

Not drunk Ewan thinking his voice message sounded a lot better than it did! 😂

The story will extend further than 3 parts, as it turns out! In the next one, the reader and Ewan will be reunited - any guesses on what will happen?

Comment and let me know if you wish to be added to the taglist 💕

[ellecdc]

Poly moonwater or marauders (up to you! I can see both being cute, though marauders would be interesting since theyre all gryffindors) x a partner who thinks snakes are the cutest, and has a really big python of her own? And she often takes it on “walks” (walking outside while the snake is lounging on her arms to get some sun) or chills in her room with the snake just resting on or beneath her robes (calmer snakes in my experience love to slither up sleeves and wrap around abdomens and collars)? My snake loves doing that, and sometimes it gives people a fright haha. My snake is quite large, but just the cutest and most curious thing, she’s helped many of my friends get over a minor phobia before. She also contracts her muscles (not enough to hurt) when wrapped around a hand, which feels like a little hug. LOL sorry for rambling, I love my sweet baby (5 foot long apex predator) so much. Bonus points if reader is very sweet and smiley, just the last person you’d expect to have a big “scary” snake.

this was such a cute and funny request. and, funnily enough, almost immediately after I received it I started seeing this creator with her snake on TikTok and was like "this is perfect!!!"

poly!marauders x whimsical!reader who apparently has a pet snake that her boyfriends didn't know about

CW: fem!reader, reader has hair she can put up in a bun, best friend Barty being a fucking menace, snakes?

Remus let out a breath of relief when he finally made out your form sitting contently under a tree on the castle grounds with your face shoved in a book.

He couldn’t help but worry about you a little bit; he worried about James and Sirius too, mind you, but something about you struck him as a little too pure, a little too lovely to be navigating this scary world on your own.

He knew you could, he just didn’t think you should have to.

It appeared Sirius and James were just as grateful at locating you when Sirius took off in a run to join your little makeshift picnic.

Remus almost felt bad for the interruption of what was likely a very peaceful sanctuary you had built for yourself. But knowing you, you’d be just as happy to have them join you.

Your smile at Sirius’ form as he made it to your blanket let Remus know he was quite right in his prediction.

“Hi Siri!” You greeted tranquilly, causing James to let out a small breath of awe as he all but dragged Remus the rest of the way over to you. 

“Hey Angel!” James called to you as Remus offered you an apologetic smile turned grimace. 

“Do you mind if we join you?” Remus had the grace to ask.

“Of course not; I’d love it if you did.” You responded quickly, shifting over to make room for them all on your blanket.

“Of course you’d be so gracious; our sweet girl.” Sirius cooed at you, but as he went to pull you towards him by your shoulders, he let out an embarrassing shriek as he launched himself away from you. 

“Godric’s saggy balls, Pads; what is the problem?” James asked bemusedly as he took over Sirius’ now vacated spot beside you.

“She’s got a sodding snake in her hair!” Sirius screeched as he pointed at you.

James’ head whipped back towards you to see that, sure enough, there was a medium sized snake seemingly almost curled up in your messy bun.

“Don’t move, Angel.” James said seriously as he stood carefully and brandished his wand. “I’ll get it off of you.”

“Oh, there’s no need, James. She’s very docile.” You said simply as if you hadn’t just scared the living daylights out of your boyfriends.

“Docile!?” Sirius bellowed at the same time as James questioned “she?” 

Remus smirked at his boyfriends’ theatrics, though felt momentarily ashamed he hadn’t realised you owned a snake, or…had a snake friend.

“Is she your pet, dove?” He asked finally, fighting the urge to grimace as the snake curled further around your bun and moved its head to sit at your temple. 

“Yes; her name is Tinkerbell.”

“Tinkerbell?!” James and Sirius chorused.

Remus chuckled at the boys letting their Pureblood show. “Like the fairy from Peter Pan?”

He was rewarded with a pleased smile as you moved your eyes back towards him. “Exactly.”

“How long have you been living with a snake?” Sirius asked severely, causing Remus to nudge him with his knee warningly.

“Barty got her for me for my birthday.” You responded simply.

“You’ve had that thing for months?” James asked, finally earning a swat from Remus.

“She’s not a thing, Jamie.” You gently chided, offering the snake your finger who wrapped her head around it reminding Remus of a cat rubbing up against their owner's leg. “I’m surprised you haven’t seen her before; she’s almost always with me.”

Sirius just let out another horrified squawk as Remus fought the urge to let out a full body shiver.

“You carry… Tinkerbell around with you often?” He queried carefully.

You hummed in acknowledgement as your hand fell back to your book. “She usually wraps around my elbow under my robes, but lately she’s enjoyed nesting in my hair. I think maybe now that it’s getting warmer, she likes to sit in the sun.”

“We really need to talk to Junior about gifting our Angel with dangerous animals.” James muttered quietly to Remus and Sirius as your attention turned towards the devil your best friend himself.

“Hi Treasure! Hi Tink!” Barty called you you; his voice raising an octave when greeting your reptilian friend.

Remus winced when he noticed a slightly larger snake hung casually over Juniors shoulders that seemed to be considering the group as they approached.

“Introducing your sweet girl to the boys?” He asked as he sat beside you on the blanket; speaking about your three boyfriends as if they weren’t there.

“Yes. I don’t think it’s gone particularly well, admittedly.” You responded serenely, reaching out to gently boop Barty’s snake’s nose with your finger. 

“It’s going fine.” Sirius argued; never willing to show signs of weakness in front of a Slytherin. 

Unfortunately for Sirius, Barty seemed to call his bluff. “You’re not afraid of a little old snake, are you Black?”

Sirius scoffed derisively. “I go to school with enough of them, don’t I?”

“Okay, why don’t you pet Mr. Smee here then?” Barty taunted, holding out his large reptilian friend to Sirius. “He won’t bite.” He promised with a Cheshire cat smile.

Sirius looked at Barty sceptically before his eyes nervously darted towards you. 

“Mr. Smee is very friendly, Siri.” You encouraged.

Sirius tried to smile at you before he returned his stormy eyes to Barty. “I don’t make it a habit of petting slimy animals, Junior.”

Barty scoffed as he rolled his eyes. “He’s not slimy, Black; he’s scaley.”

Seemingly pacified, Sirius reached out a cautious hand towards Mr. Smee.

Sirius made a garbled heaving sound as he slowly pulled his hand away from the snake's body where strings of slime connected his fingers to the reptile.

“He is slimy!”

“That’s because I soaked him in slime!” Barty cackled. “You’re so easy, Black. Gods, I should spend more time with the lot of you; this was fun.”

And with that, Barty stood from the blanket, kissed Tinkerbell on the head and then pressed one to your head as well before he skipped off.

“He’s a real menace.” James grumbled as Sirius transfigured a piece of paper into a paper towel and wiped at the slime on his fingers.

“I thought that was very brave of you, Sirius.” You praised him, and almost all of the contempt colouring Sirius’ face faded away as he looked at you lovingly.

“Thanks dolly.”

Thankfully, Tinkerbell remained content in your hair, and the boys remained content pretending there wasn’t a snake on their girlfriend’s head for the rest of the afternoon.

[chewingbatmanlikeasqueakytoy]

Why doesn't the justice league know about Amity Park?

Okay so it's been a bit sonce I watched the show but one of the things in DpxDC is the anti-ecto acts, which I love, but correct me if I'm wrong, I THINK ??? they only show up in reality trip? SO: What if Danny, when using the gauntlet to undo everything, also got rid of the Anti-Ecto acts? but this is babys first time editing reality so he uh Fucks Up A Lil'. As a result when Danny used the reality gauntlet to wipe the AEA from existence he accidentally wiped Amity Park from perception. A big 'nothing matters over here' jedi mind trick, and now no ones looking at Amity. So, the Justice League actually WERE looking into and monitoring the situation in Amity, but when the perception filter closed them off, all of that suddenly went ignored.

This is noticed when someone (Alfred, Dick, Tim, literally anyone) realises theres just. A BIG dusty pile of case files semi abandoned somewhere in the cave when going through a (time period)ly cave cleaning.

They put it down because it's Not Important.

They come back to finish the cleaning the next day and do the exact same thing, but there's nothing to actually distract them this time and it pings as weird. Because why would case files be not important? They are by definition important, because only things flagged as important go into case files.

They try to get someone else to read it, because as long as they don't read the information in the file, they don't put it down.

That person goes to read it, gets a line in and then says something like 'that isn't important' and goes to leave. Person A pushes it and person B ALSO catches on.

Que the Batfam trying to figure out hey, what the fuck actually?

Meanwhile, how is Amity fairing? Canon compliant everything's going alright? Or have knock on effects to No One Look Here started to show?

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Cary Grant (The Philadelphia Story, His Girl Friday, Bringing Up Baby, Charade)—just the peak of old-school Hollywood sexuality. The glam, the suits, the gentle wit, the acrobatics, those eyes that always looked like they knew exactly what movie they were in and were laughing at the joke...

Vincent Price (Laura, Leave Her to Heaven, House on Haunted Hill, The Masque of the Red Death)—svelte, stylish, horrifying, beautiful, wickedly funny, camp and gorgeous and evil. he was an art connoisseur who advocated passionately indigenous art, he was an actual literal gourmet cook, he was so liberal he got greylisted during the mccarthy era for being too rad, he's my favorite muppets guest of all time

This is round 4 of the bracket. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage man.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Vincent Price propaganda:

Submitted: this fancam

Submitted: this entire Tumblr page

Cary Grant propaganda:

"My Golden Age of Hollywood professor, who was very outwardly gay himself, put it this way: Even though Grant's sexuality was kind of an open secret in Hollywood, the public couldn't know in any real way. But anybody could see that there was a queerness about him, so he was casted for roles where he physically embodies his masculinity in a non-explicit but queer way. Bringing Up Baby is famous for the scene where Grant wears a frilly robe (pictured below, but what people don't always realise is that he plays kind of an awkward nerd in that movie. He's a hot awkward scientist in a grand robe!!! Hot!!! In The Philadelphia Story, one of my famous movies of all time, he plays C. K. Dexter Haven, a rich, sarcastic, supposedly abusive guy. And yet, what we see is this laid back, dandy-ish figure, who absolutely does not feel threatened when a woman he supposedly loves (Katharine Hepburn) starts having feelings for, and hooks up with another guy (James Stewart). He lets a drunk Stewart into his office and helps him get his job back! Obviously that is the script and not the actor, but the whole film, and that scene in particular, shows him having this very queer attitude of openness toward Hepburn and Stewart, which is only amplified by the casting of Grant and his portrayal of the character. Anyway, this is not an essay arguing for The Philadelphia Story to be considered a queer film, all I will say is: he's super hot in it."

The link to the above mentioned frilly robe scene from Bringing Up Baby: "I just went gay all of a sudden!"

last minute cary grant propaganda: the last few paragraphs of that new vanity fair article about him and randolph scott that just came out 2 days ago on cary's birthday where he calls it "gravity collapse" and "love at first sight" and says their souls touched and and and i'm actually sharing this mostly because it makes me emotional but also because a vote for archibald is a vote for love. this is my message. apologies for sounding mildly insane.

[mythicmanuscripts]

Hey, I actually started watching HOTD just some days ago (thanks to tumblr constantly throwing fics at me with very promising summaries and gifs of very pretty men until I couldn't resist any more) and now I keep rereading everything you write about Aegon because it's just so good and just everything I need.

Could I maybe request some more about Aegon crying during sex, maybe he tries to hide it but he can't keep it quite so his wive notices anyways. I'm currently just really addicted to the idea of holding him and telling him he's doing fine

And thank you so much for everything you've written ❤️

Absolutely we can discuss all of this!!! I am always glad to welcome another into the crybaby!aegon agenda. I intended for this to be fully soft and smutty and well... there's a fair amount of angst too I am sorry in in advance but I promise it ends well!! Also this got so far away from me oh my god I thought I was writing a quick blurb and it turned into one of the longest pieces I've ever written.

Soft NSFW sub!aegon below the cut :))

So obviously as we all know, Aegon is not exactly a virgin. You knew this going into your marriage with him, hell just about every person in the entire seven kingdoms knew this. You were fine with it, well, as fine as you can be. You weren't expecting a marriage of love, or even of companionship. You knew you'd have to give him a few heirs, and then after that you doubted you'd even see much of him. That was fine, you wanted to be queen and you are queen. You can withstand a bit of Aegon's infidelity for that title.

What you don't expect, however, is how utterly shocked and taken with you your new husband seems to be the moment you show him any amount of human decency? It's like he expected you to actively try to kill him and the fact that you actually greet him in the mornings and ask him how his day went during dinner means he must now follow you around like some sort of sad puppy?

Meanwhile for Aegon, he was also certain he'd just make some heirs and then barely see you. I think his belief would mostly be because of Allicent actually? All Allicent ever told him from the moment he came of age was how much of a disappointment he was and how she would need to find a way to ensure that he doesn't completely fuck up the entire of the seven kingdoms. And when she tells him that she's found him a wife, he immediately knows she would have chosen someone who was with her agenda and would have already convinced the person that he would be useless.

But, nevertheless, he decided he would do his duty.

What he did not expect, however, was how... cordial you were with him? And not only that, you seemed to actually try to be nice to him?? He really doesn't know what to do with himself when he comes into your shared quarters after dinner to perform his required duties and instead of just rolling over and telling him to be done with it, you actually start by talking to him? And... and asking about his day??

And then when he answers, you respond? And you lament with him about how ridiculous and uptight most of the people in the castle are? He's so shocked that you even want to converse with him at all.

He doesn't even end up trying for an heir. He just... has an hour long conversation with you that ends with him nearly falling asleep against your shoulder and then when he realises the position he's in, he quickly bids you goodnight and leaves to his quarters.

It goes like that for a little while, except now you seem to be seeing Aegon everywhere? It's like he's actually trying to run into you as much as possible so that he can ask what you've been doing and have even the smallest conversation with you.

It reaches a point where you actually start to see his eyes light up every time he sees you, and well, you have no fucking idea what to do with that because your husband hasn't tried for an heir since your wedding night and has instead been scrambling for any ounce of your attention.

You consider going to Allicent about it, because she's starting to ask questions about whether you've bled for the month yet or not to figure out if you have an heir for them, but then you decided it against it because honest Aegon just looks so happy? You know if you speak to Allicent then she will set Aegon straight and it'll go back to how it was the first night. You don't want that. You don't want to see the weight back on Aegon's shoulders.

I actually think that as you get closer, and Aegon starts to realise he might have a real genuine confidant, he gets more and more nervous about actually having sex with you?

Aegon thinks he knows all there is to know about sex, and he's certainly has enough women in his bed to understand the mechanics if nothing else, but he doesnt want that with you. The women in the brothels he's been with... sure it felt good but deep down he knew it was fake and they knew it too. They'd put on a show for him, do whatever they thought would make him happy and while yes it most certainly did make him happy, it also made him... empty? Yeah, empty.

As he gets to know you and enjoy being with you, his heart starts to ache at the thought of you going into that mode that all the others seemed to where they just let him get his business over with and then promptly left the room. He knows that's what you're supposed to do, but he can't quite bring himself to do it because fuck he just, he really likes you and he's not sure where to go with this.

He's never had anyone actually make him feel safe before? And yeah you're extremely attractive but you also listen to him complain and make him laugh and genuinely care about him and he's just very lost.

He goes back to the brothel then, because he thinks he needs to just sleep with another woman and remind himself how good that feels and then he'll be able to bring himself to go do what he's supposed to do with you.

You don't know this of course.

Well, you don't know until about 2 hours after Aegon left for the brothel when he comes barging into your private chambers with tears in his eyes and promptly begs for forgiveness.

You obviously haven't a clue what's going on, but you pull him into a hug anyway and ask him what this is about.

Through many whines and sobs he eventually manages to explain that he went to a brothel, tried to fuck a whore and... couldnt? You try to get him to explain what he could mean by that and he kinda just buries his head in his hands and sobs even harder.

So at this point you've fully given up trying to figure out what's going on and you just pull him against your chest and press soft kisses into his hair. He melts against you, his body going slack as he nuzzles his nose against the exposed skin at your gown's neckline.

Once he's calmed down, he still doesn't move, but he does manage to whisper what happened.

He went to a brothel intent on fucking a whore to get himself back into the swing of things and then the following day to actually fulfil his duties as husband. Except, the moment the brothel worker kissed him he felt terrible and pushed her off. They brought in more women, and he couldnt do it. He... he felt like he was betraying you.

Eventually you just pull away to make him look at you and ask him, "What do you want? Genuinely, what do you want?"

He's silent for a moment, then he surges forward and kisses you. It's the first time you've kissed him since your wedding night, and this time it's like he's melting into your arms.

You kiss him back, and you have to tug at his hair to make him stop so you can breathe and repeat the question. He tries to kiss you again, but you tighten your grip on his hair to prevent him. The whine he lets out at being denied is fucking sinful, but you won't give in until he's actually told you want he wants.

"Wanna... wanna be good for you," he says eventually, "I don't want to be how I was before, I don't want all that emptiness I just... how do I be good?"

This time, you're the one that starts the kiss and he lets you just manhandle him so easily. He's so pliant under you, whining and whimpering and looking insanely gorgeous as he tries to touch you.

You ride him, and fuck the way tears just run down his eyes as he thanks you and grips your hips is life changing. He's so good like this, all worked up and squirmy and so so turned on. But he doesn't act, not at all. You started this, and he's not going to do a thing, he wants to your plaything, nothing more.

He turns his head to the side as you start to ride him properly, trying to hide how tears are just streaming down his cheeks but you take his chin in your hand and turn him to face you. You stop riding him for a second to wipe the tears away.

"You're so good," you promise him, "couldnt even get yourself off anymore, huh?" He whines and nods and cries, because you get it, you get it.

"I'll take care of you then," you say, smirking when he actually groans in relief, "but," you carry on, "then you're mine, yeah? Only mine, no more brothels or whores or servants."

And fuck if that isnt the easiest promise he's ever made.

(Just a quick sidenote to end off this novel: We should discuss himbo!aegon with his queen who does absolutely everything. Yes he's technically the king but in practice his only job is to look pretty and listen to wife and he is truly living his absolute best life)

[madridfangirl]

Making up after a fight - Jude Bellingham blurb

A/n - fluff, angst, comfort, suggestive

900 words. Jude*female reader.

……………………………………………………………………

‘You were amazing today. Congrats on the MOTM, so well deserved!’

You hit send, hoping for a response. You were supposed to be at the match, supporting him. But the two of you had gotten into an ugly fight just this morning. Which, in hindsight, was kinda your fault. But, hindsight is a bitch and you were downright furious in the morning.

A particular reel on your insta feed, of Jude with an upcoming Spanish actress, is what you had woken up to. The woman was gorgeous, and way too obvious with Jude - the hair flicks, side eyes, giggles, touching the arm for that extra second, all straight out of the playbook.

The hug though is what enraged you the most. Coz Jude had also wrapped both arms around her, not the typical one arm shoulder hug thing he usually did with other women. That, combined with the fact that Jude liked the pics she posted of the meeting made you blow your top.

To be fair, you had tried to avoid the fight before an important CL match, the first home KO match in-fact. But Jude had gotten impatient with your radio silence, pestered you for a call and then you couldn’t hold back.

He tried to explain that she was working on a social media campaign for RM, and other players had liked the post too. But you had shot back saying that was no reason for him to let that woman feel him up.

Jude was frustrated, and lost his cool too. This was not a new fight. You two had been here way too many times. Usually he was patient, knowing that his lifestyle was not ideal for a new relationship, but the timing of it, right before one of the most crucial matches of his career, is what irked him.

So yeah, it ended up with you not attending the match. Not even sending him a good luck message before the match, something you had never missed in the last 4 months since your first date. To top it off, you even used a nuclear weapon that you knew would set him off. By mentioning a colleague of yours who Jude hated with all the bones in his body.

It was only when you saw another angle of the video (taken on phone by other attendees) that you realised you had overreacted. The woman was still pathetic but Jude did pull back immediately from the hug, and maintained his distance. But, it was too late by then and the match had already started.

‘I am so proud of you, Jude.’

You were still on texts. Fully aware that if you call and he disconnects / doesn’t pick up, it will hurt you & your ego both.

The messages were seen. No response. It was now 1.5 hours after the match. He would be home already or on the way.

‘Wish I had been there, instead of moping all day.’

‘Why? That fucker wasn’t good company?’

Well at-least that was a response. At least.

‘Jude, I didn’t go. I wouldn’t. You know that.’

‘You had no problem throwing that in my face though.’

He was right, you could see that. It really was a low & petty blow. If only you were as clear headed in the morning.

‘I am sorry, baby. For that & everything else today. For assuming all those things without hearing you out. Really, I am.’

No response for 2 minutes, which made her anxious.

‘Don’t think I am cheating, then? Don’t think I am going to her right now or went to her last night?’

He was goading her, she could tell. But he was hurting too, that also she could tell.

‘No, I don’t.’

‘Why the change of heart, when you were so convinced earlier?’

He wasn’t gonna make it easy for her.

‘Is that important? Look, I know I messed up. I know I ruined what could have been a great day for us. You really should be celebrating right now instead of feeling shitty. And I really really am sorry, Jude. Pls can we just get over this?’

A pregnant pause, again.

She doubled down with another nuclear weapon in her kitty.

‘I love you. So much it hurts. Yes I do get crazy sometimes but you know, in your heart you know where it’s coming from.’

If this doesn’t work, she won’t know what else to do.

1 minute later, her phone flashed.

‘I needed you today.’

She clutched the phone to her chest, sighing deeply, sensing his resignation.

‘I know, honey. Promise I will be there for the next big game. And whenever else you need me.’

‘It was so shitty to play like this. Not knowing where we stand. Not knowing if you were anywhere near that asshole. Might have tackled some of the guys extra hard today.’

‘Again, I am so so sorry. But I am also super proud that despite all this you still came out on top. Like you always do.’

Jude read and re-read the text a few times, sat in his car. She always knew what she was doing so this couldn’t just be a coincidence.

‘Tryna tempt me?’

‘Depends - is it working?’

‘Be careful what you wish for, doll. I don’t have a handle on myself today.’

‘Wanna come here & show me what that’s like?’

‘Gonna ask one more time - are you sure?’

‘Uh-huh. I do deserve some disciplining today, don’t you think?’

‘I’ll be there in 20. And doll, you may have to take an off tmrw.’

……………………………………………

[marypsue]

Was talking with @seiya234 about Sam Vimes and the idea that seems to come up in some fan circles with some regularity that after his death, Vimes will become the 'God of Coppering' or in some other way some part of him will continue to protect the city/the Watch after his death. She mentioned that she thought the idea was kind of king-ish - the whole idea "that someone will keep swooping in and saving the day" - and that Vimes would haaaaaate that, and I agree.

However. It's true. Part of Sam Vimes will keep protecting Ankh-Morpork long after he dies.

It's the part of him he gave to Carrot, the part that Carrot uses to check himself every time he starts to get frustrated with the limitations of what he can do as a Watchman and wishes he could just - make people be better.

It's the part of him he gave to Angua, the quiet faith that of course the beast within can be brought to heel, of course it's never easy but it's always worth it.

It's the part of him he gave to A. E. Pessimal, a small dull man living a small dull life whose eyes were opened wide one terrifying night to how much of a difference one small dull man's small dull life can make to the great churning wheels of the world.

It's the part of him he gave to the grags and to Mr. Shine, the proof that the truth is worth digging for and worth hauling up into the light, that it's possible to look beyond hatred and mistrust.

It's the part of him he gave to William de Worde, the knowledge that nothing is really worth doing unless someone, somewhere, would really much rather you weren't doing it.

It's the part of him he gave to Reg Shoe, that keeps Reg believing in the necessity of fighting for a better world even when it seems absurd and impossible and foolish to try.

It's the part of him he gave to Sham Harga, who knows every now and then, a man just needs some burnt crispy bits.

It's the part of him he gave to any number of strangers in the street, a sense of what fairness and justice can look like, even in something as small as a night patrol.

It's the part of him he gave to Sybil, the very best part of himself.

And it's everything of himself that he gave to Young Sam, who has a chance now to make his own impressions on a thousand thousand lives.

It's not just A part of Sam Vimes that will linger after his death, protecting the city he loved and hated in equal parts, the city that was his. It's a thousand thousand parts, that he left behind sometimes aware, sometimes intentionally, sometimes without even realising. And it's not something inherent within Sam Vimes and Sam Vimes alone, not something special about him or that only he could do. It's what everyone does, leaves parts and pieces of themselves behind. A thousand thousand parts of Sam Vimes are still out there, still saving the city, little by little, in quiet unglamourous ways, day after day after day.

If anything can be saved by a part of someone who's gone, it's like this.

And I think Sam Vimes would be proud of that.

(And also swear about it quite a lot when he realises this also implies that technically he's a factor in the lives of crime that some of the many, many people he's arrested over his long career have gone on to lead, but alas. We don't get to choose ALL the ripples we make in the world.)

[aajjks]

Blurred Lines (m)

synopsis: the lines are blurring- you’re forbidden but he has to have a taste.

paring. soft!yan best friend!jk x Reader

warnings. yändêrê,, flüff, obsèssïvè thöüghts, lôvèsïck jk, DÏRTY thöüghts,, Jungköök is sö nöt pürè LMÁÔ büt wbk.

note. heh. ENJOY AND SEND ASKS FOR HIMMMM ILY GUYS.

DO NOT ROMANTACISE THIS BEHAVIOUR AND I DO NOT CONDONE THIS BEHAVIOUR IRL AND THIS IS PURELY FICTIONAL AND THIS FIC DOES NOT REPRESENT BTS OR JUNGKOOK AS A PERSON.

You’re the one he loves and maybe he’s too late to realise it, you’re singles, yes. But he just got out of a great relationship and you’d never date your best friend.

An angel that was sent in jungkooks dark, plain life to light it up with its radiatingly angelic existence. before you, it was all dark and smoky around him, the constant chaos, bad relationships and gleaming was starting to taint his entire life but then you were always there…

His savior, his salvation. His best friend, YN LN. yes, his YN, the girl of his dreams. Jungkook loves you so fucking much. His love for you is indescribable. Really, he is so devoted to you, but being your devotee was the least he was doing...you were a goddess, you deserved someone better than him.

A lot better, pure. Jungkook knew that he didn’t deserve you, you are like a forbidden fruit that’s so tempting to taste.

Becoming your best friend was a start...for something more...way more that jungkook craved so much. But… he never dared to cross the line, and then Dakhyung came.

He tried to suppress his emotions and feelings for you, how could he love you, his best friend.

But the truth is..

Jungkook is in love with you, his best friend. he has been loving you. His world revolves around you. the most random things you talk about are so lovely to hear...your voice is so soothing.

It soothes jungkooks inner demon that threats to come out and take over him. the one that’s so into you.

Y/N Y/N Y/N Y/N Y/N Y/N Y/N Y/N Y/N and Y/N.

Maybe his interest in you was partly responsible for her cheating on him.. maybe, she didn’t like you.. her loss.

“Kookie!!” Jungkook blinks, Finally pulled back to reality. He tilted his head to look at you, and his mind goes blank.

God, you are so pretty, so fucking beautiful. You are a masterpiece, God’s greatest creation, God’s biggest masterpiece. “KOOKIE!”

“Y-Yes!?” This time a soft smile finds its way to his lips and his cheeks heated up in embarrassment. “yes YN?” You huff in annoyance. “What are you thinking so deeply about, kook. I’ve been calling you for the last 17 minutes.” If it was even possible, his cheeks felt more heated.

if only you kn- “got a crush or something kook? Or thinking about the bitch?”

You interrupt the trail of his thoughts once again. he looks up at you in surprise, his dark doe eyes wide with his mouth agape.

“Fuck Dakhyung.” He refers to his now ex girlfriend. He hates her, to be fair he never loved her, the relationship was rushed, she wanted to be with him and… he was too scared to ask you out.

Dumb move.

But then she cheated on him, what a whore.

“w-what?!” he stutters, his heart threatening to explode in his chest. “What, What kook. A crush. Perhaps you have a crush since you’re so distracted these days...” on your face was a mischievous smile that made him scared.

But she really did him a favour by freeing him.

what if you knew? did his friend tell you? that fucker— “w-why do you think I-I have a crush? How’d you know... Yn.” Jungkook looked everywhere but at you.

“I just got cheated on yn!”

now, don’t get jungkook wrong. He loves you a lot...like it was probably unhealthy. But he hated just how smart you were.

But then again, it is also so hot.

Jungkook shakes his head at his lewd thoughts. Now was not the time. Jungkook liftes his head up to see you so close to his face.

eeeeekkk!

“Y-Y-Yn!!! W-What are you doing!?” With your face so close to his, jungkooks breath hitches in his throat. you really are Gods most magnificent creation. and...

you smell so fucking good. peachy, his favorite scent. “jungkooooookie is innnn looooveee!~” the way your mouth moves was so attractive, your lips were so plump.

So pink and glossy, his mouth was salivating at the sight. nice lipgloss.

Damn your glossy pretty lips.

what does it taste like? Oh he desperately he wishes he could know. His gaze is set on your lips as he forces his frozen mind to think logically.

No! Jungkook is not a pervert. You are pure. He inhales loudly while scolding himself mentally.

Now. is. not. the. time. jungkook.

He closes his eyes and gulpes. These thoughts are haunting, how would your lips feel against his? your soft skin would be heaven to touch…

Just look at you.

stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop— fuck it.

“Y/N can i kiss you?”

maybe he isn’t as pure as he thought.

[garagepaperback]

What are your favorite drarry fics?

oh. ooooooooooooh oh oh.

here are my staples:

draco, the magic dragon - libbydrew a fic i first read on livejournal (showing off the varnish of my casket here) that i thought about regularly for the almost two decades i fell out of fandom. canon to me tbh. libby invented my draco rubric: proud lil showboat even when everything around him has gone to rancid shit, sarcastic and aloof personality as a poor facade to distract from the big ol' gaping well of hurt.

Potter took a great breath, then let it out slowly – a low whistle between his teeth. "Malfoy, I had no idea. I thought—" "Why are you here?" Draco cut him off before the idiot embarrassed them both. Their shared past was water under the bridge – even if Draco had drowned in it.

nightingale - michi_the_killer

another back-in-my-day fav, even though i can only stand to read half of it. actually even thinking about it is making me stare off in a distance for upwards of three minutes. this one i would hand off wrapped in about a million miles of caution tape. + also a huge fan of michi's gory veela fic.

It was better than fighting, Harry thought, although sometimes he still wanted to rip into Malfoy, to hurt him. Other days, he thought, it was better than anything.

rookie moves - peu_a_peu

what can i say that hasn't already been said - peu is a MASTER. if you somehow know who i am but haven't read this, reassess your life choices through professional means but not until after you dive in.

“Feels kinda big,” Malfoy said, smirking. “For a guy your height.” “My height is average,” Harry said, although he was undeniably glaring upward at Malfoy’s face when they stood so close together. “And it is kinda big.”

stately homes of wiltshire - waspabi another one that crept into my heart and made a home. hard to choose between this and waspabi's other drarry fic, but there's something about the decrepit manor that just does it for me. a perfect harry and draco, perfect soft reaching towards each other.

Draco smiled and dragged Potter from the shop before he could charm any more elderly ladies with his unkept, take-care-of-me-I’m-confused-and-have-nice-shoulders aesthetic. Once outside in the drizzle, he realised he still had his hand around Potter’s forearm. He yanked his hand back immediately.

i wake up falling - warmfoothills

warmfoothills :,) just reading this moniker makes me vision go soft around the edges. their writing has made me out loud, quietly say "oh," multiple times. the prose is darling, this story is such a brief, aching glance. it was also really hard to pick just one (flashback, warm nights i also go in for).

“I love you,” he says, unable to stop himself. Draco blinks, a barely-there flinch, like Harry’s taken a swing at him. “I know,” he says, still oblivious to the reference, oblivious to the way his words scoop right into the meat of Harry’s stupid, hopeful heart. “It’s not enough, is it?” Draco shakes his head. Above, the stars watch unfeelingly on.

the pure and simple truth - lettered no one does dialogue with the mastery lettered does. my GOD. my god. i feel like this fic is drarry perfectly distilled.

“What’s he going to be?” Blaise raised a brow. “Pardon?” “You said he says Hermione should be Minister, and all those other things. What does Malfoy think he should be?” There was something much like pity in Blaise’s eyes. “He thinks he should never, ever be forgiven for the things he’s done.” Harry felt ill. “That’s not fair.” “When has Draco ever been fair?” “I meant―” Harry swallowed hard. “That’s not right.” Blaise looked more pitying still. “When has Draco ever been right?”

far from the tree - aideomai

the writer i avoid talking about the most bc once i start i cannot physically restrain myself from going on about their beauty forever. i sat for forty-five solid minutes frowning, trying to choose between this one and in the hand. and dwelling. okay anyway. i keep a doc of quotes from fics that resonate and it's 50% aideomai.

Draco wondered what Potter thought of this day, in the future the twins came from. If he had told Ginny about it. If he had forgotten it. He couldn’t forget it, could he? It felt burned into Draco’s body already, a final point that he had been moving toward for years without knowing.

i could go on but i think seven is a nice solid number tyvm for this ask!

[luveline]

I love your KBD universe, I know that Beth is having a hard time with being the weird kid and I just have to say as a lover of weird things and people I would love to see something where Bethie comes home from school happy to have met someone who LOVES that she’s a little weird!

dad!steve and his weird girls <3 mom!reader, 1k

When you get home from work with the big kids in tow, Steve’s gonna kiss you stupid. With baby Wren gurgling on his tummy and less-baby Dove sitting by his head where he lays on the couch, he’s never been this happy. He’ll be happier when the big girls are home, but for now, he’s snug as a bug, treated by his second youngest to a buffet of affection. 

“Love you,” Dove says, kissing his cheek for the tenth time in the last two minutes. He can’t stop laughing.

“I love you, too!” he says, shifting his hand to give Wren some more room. 

“Love you, dad,” Dove says.

“I know, baby, I know. Thank you for the kisses, you’re so nice.” 

Dove kisses him again. “You’re happy,” she says. 

“So happy. Can I get another kiss, you think?” 

He turns into her. She’s sitting too high to be cuddled; all Steve can do is take in her sweetness. He can’t believe how quickly her babyhood has passed into toddlerhood, and she’s been sort of a nightmare, but she’s also his little girl. She’s your daughter, her sisters’ sister. She was always going to be lovely, and Steve feels it like a loving punch as she noses at his ear. “Daddy,” she laughs, “you’re too warm.” 

“I’m blushing, babe, I’m getting all these nice kisses!” He laughs like an idiot and decides he must hug her, pulling his arm up and scooping her into his chest. 

She groans in annoyance before she realises what he’s doing, “Hug!” she says excitedly. 

“Hug!” he echoes, wrapping his arm around her. She’s starting to look less like a baby and more like a little tiny kid, which he hates and loves at the same time. “Aw, I love you, Dovey.” 

The door clatters open. Wren jumps at the sound, hiding her face in Steve’s neck, to which he gives a good back rubbing. “It’s okay, bubby, it’s just your mommy. Don’t be silly, huh? Just mommy. You’re gonna be happy when she turns the corner.” 

“Shoes,” you’re saying from the door, though Steve can’t see you, he can tell you’re smiling. “Shoes, Beth, then you can tell dad.” 

“Daddy, we’re home!” Avery shouts. 

“I can hear you, babe!” he shouts back, not unkindly. 

“Dad, I have something to tell you!” Beth shouts. 

Steve hoists himself up into a sitting position, two babies in his arms, knowing you’ll know he’s laid down all day from the mess of his hair alone but not trying to hide it. You can do whatever you want on your vacation days, you’d teased. Just make sure you feed the kids.

“Hi,” you say, appearing in the doorway, two balls of energy at your legs that bolt for Steve the second they see him. 

“Girls, I don’t have long enough arms,” he says, trying to cuddle them all, even though it’s impossible. 

He finds himself suddenly relieved of the second youngest. Dove might love her father, but she adores her mother, and she hasn’t seen you all day —she slinks down out of his hold and through the mess of her sisters to grab at you, to which you gratefully receive her, pulling her up to station on your hip. “Hi, gorgeous,” Steve hears you say. Avery pushes him back, climbing into his lap with a happy sigh. “Miss me today? I missed you,” you ask sweetly. 

“What did you want to tell me, Beth?” Steve asks curiously, grinning as Avery makes herself comfortable on his thigh, her arm wrapping behind his neck. He’s happy to see everybody else so happy, even if it’s hectic. 

Beth beams up at him with her brightest smile in weeks. She’s been having such a hard time at school, Steve wondered if he could start homeschooling, coming home upset nearly every other day. It isn’t fair. His relief that she’s had a good day is palpable. 

“Dad, there’s a new girl! Her name is Francesca and she’s got the same birthday as me and guess what!” 

“What?” he asks. 

“She said she likes being weird!” Beth’s eyes glow shiny with joy. “Cos Hilly called me weird, and she said she likes being weird. She said we can be best friends.” Beth hits his knee in her excitement. “She liked me, dad.” 

“Why wouldn’t she like you?” he asks, wondering how old he’ll have to be before he stops tearing up at Beth’s good heart. He blinks quickly to dispel any tears before they can gather. “Her name is Francesca? When did she move? Do you think she wants to come for dinner?” 

Your laugh is a snort. “Steve.” 

“What? Friends come for dinner. Best friends! Did you speak to her mom?” he asks you. 

“I didn’t see her.” 

“Don’t worry, Beth, I’ll speak to her in the morning. We’ll see if they want to come for dinner or go swimming or something.” 

Beth’s smile gets wider, “Really?” 

“Yeah, really!” He gives Avery a little shake. “Did you meet Francesca?” 

Avery nods. “She’s pale and she has big hair. Curly hair, too.” Her voice is a tad scratched, perhaps from the cold out. 

Steve lets his weight fall into the arm, cautious not to squish your baby, a grin on his face to rival Beth’s. She gets the memo and climbs up, claiming that last bit of space under the baby to hug his stomach. He tries to wrap them all up, gurgly Wren, exuberant Beth, and poor cold Avery. “You coming?” he asks you. 

There’s dinner to make. You ignore it, crossing the mess of the living room to flop down on the couch next to them all. Steve lifts his face in that way you always recognise, and is pleased as punch when you peck him quickly. 

You don’t realise how Steve thinks of you, he’d say. Don’t realise he wants another kiss, then another, that you’re on his mind when you aren’t there, and dominate it when you are. He loves his babies, but he loves you too. He wants another kiss. 

“Steve,” you scold lightly, surprised as he presses two kisses to the corner of your mouth. 

“Sorry. Beth, tell me more about Francesca. What did she say exactly?” 

Beth takes a deep breath. 

[k0juki]

some angst with joost (with an happy ending pls)

A/n: I can actually write something over 1k words? Also I think the end is poorly written, so bear with me. xdd

Where have you been?

Joost Klein x fem!reader

English is not my first language, so feel free to point out any mistakes or errors! More posts here.

Warnings: maybe some abandon issues (I'm really bad at this..)

Wc: 1253

---

Joost was locked in his room all day. You didn't blame him. He was gaining popularity and he was doing everything he could to make the most of it. But you also were scared for him. These last few days were a lot. 

He was stressed and you just wanted to help him. To give him some break from work. But he didn't want one.

"Joost? I made you some tea." You said and opened the door from his work room. He didn't say anything, he was still staring at the same spot on his computer. You didn't know if he was ignoring you or if he was really that busy with work.

You put the cup down on his desk and came behind him. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He still said nothing. 

"How is it going Joost?" You asked, truly curious about his work. 

"Good." He replied, it was short and without any sweet playfulness that you loved. 

"That's good." You whispered, with a small smile that was more forced than happy. He was just busy with work, you were repeating in your head, all and all over again.

"Do you wanna..." you began, "maybe, take a little pause from work?" You felt him tense up under your hands just as you finished. 

"Y/n, I have some work to do, can you stop?" Joost angrily remarked. 

"I didn't mea-" you didn't even finish the sentence, as Joost turned around and pulled out of your embrace. His face and eyes were hard, he was really mad.

"I told you to stop bothering me." He spatted at you. "Don't you have anything to do? Or bother?" The more he continued, the more it hurt. 

Inside of your head, you began to panic. What have you done? What were you going to do now? 

You didn't say anything, didn't do anything, just looked down and slowly left the room, softly closed the door behind you.

Why would he do that? You just wanted him to take a break, nothing more. Were you really that annoying? 

You made your way out of the house, leaving all things behind. Including your bag, phone and most importantly a keys. 

You had to clean your head. You didn't really realised you were crying till you touched your face. Where am I going? You thought, you just simply didn't know anything right now.

And the fact that it was getting darker as night approached, didn't help much. You made your way to the nearest park where you and Joost, from time to time, spent some moments together. You sat down on the bench, and just looked around.

You were enjoying the quiet atmosphere around you, but your thoughts were traitorous. Telling you all the bad things, even though they weren't true and real, only you were real, right now, at this moment.

As the night came, you still sat at the same place. You were playing with the rings on your fingers, as the cold slowly started to absorb you whole. 

And then you heard it. The soft call. Someone was calling you, your name.

"Y/n!"

Where was it coming from? Who was calling you? 

"Y/n, where are you!" 

It was getting closer. He was getting closer.  Joost. You could say something, anything, but you had no strength to do that. You lowered your head back down, doing nothing.

"Y/n-" Joost stopped in mid sentence as he saw you sitting all alone on the bench. He ran to you and as soon as he stood in front of you, he slowly crouched down and put his hands on your knees, where you were playing with your fingers.

"Hey..." Joost whispered, but now it was you who were silent. You didn't even look at him.

"I-I, I'm-m-" he was struggling to somehow put the whole sentence together. 

"I-i'm sorry Y/n. I'm so s-sorry." He began and looked down on the ground. "I shouldn't have yelled and been mean to you, it wasn't fair...to you, you were just trying to help me." As he continued, he put his head on your knees, you felt him shaking and your heart broke a little, but he  hurt you.

But he also knew about your traumas. You told him how you can't handle it mentally when someone yells at you, and he promised you to never do that, just to break that promise. 

"I'm so sorry Y/n. I really am." Joost whispered. “I was just stressed a-and I know that it doesn't change anything I said, but I'm still so sorry."

He broke in front of you. Crying by your legs.

"Can you say something...?" He whispered. And then he felt as you took your hands away from his own and he feared the worst. He didn't want to hear it, to go through another loss of someone he loves, but now just because of his stupidity.

He wrapped his arms around your legs, now wanting to let you go. But what he didn't expect was you to put your hands in his soft, blonde hair and started massaging his scalp.

"I forgive you." You whispered. Joost raised his head and looked you in your eyes with his red ones from crying. It took him some time to realize what he'd done, and when he went to apologize, you were nowhere to be found.

This panic that washed over him, he didn't feel it for a long, long time. When he tried to call you, he heard your phone ring in the kitchen, where you left it, along with other stuff he knew you wouldn't leave the house without. 

So he went searching for you, and all the places you could have been. He was also asking other people if they saw you, but they didn't. His last hope was a park. It was where you met. You were there, and when he saw you, he felt like he could finally breathe again.

"You...forgive me?" Joost couldn't help, but ask. His arms lose a bit around your legs, but it was still strong enough to keep you in place. 

"I forgive you." You repeated and took his face in your hands."I know you have it hard right now, but I just, I don't know...got scared a-and left. I shouldn't have done that. To scare you like that too." You felt his fresh tears as you spoke to him. He was really scared you would leave him too.

"I should be the one apologizing to you." Joost's voice cracked and then he kissed your palm. "You're not going to leave me, are you?" He asked with his crystal blue eyes. 

That question made you panic. "No, of course not. I could never." He is the love of your life, you couldn't just leave him.

"Let's just go home. I'm really cold." He stood up and pulled you in a hug. He didn't care about anything as long as you were with him, in his arms. Joost was repeatedly kissing the top of your head, with one hand in your hair and the other around you.

You heard him keep muttering how sorry he was, but you already forgave him. Now he just needed to forgive himself. 

"Here, take my jacket." He said and took his jacket off as he let you go. As soon as you had it around you, he took your hand back in his and together you made your way home.

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Part 2? Idk...any ideas?

Don't copy or translate my work! Also the picture is not mine! Credit goes to owner!

[ginevrapng]

you write fwb!james letters. you don't see each other in most classes and thanks to james don't pass each other in the hallways either because of that you slip him letters other ways. when you are in the same class you go past his desk and slip a note under his unopened textbook. you'll transfigure your notes into different things, over time james has gotten use to having things turn up in his bag that he swears he doesn't own before he realises it's you transfiguring different things and he swears every time you make it your mission to transfigure it into weirder and weirder things, he won't know how to explain it if someone ever saw a muggle garden gnome in his bag.

every time he reads your notes he has to make sure he's alone and no one will come in and interrupt him, not just because they're notes from you but also because said notes make his trousers tighten and his cheeks red, thinking about all the things you wrote to him and imagining what he'd do if you were there with him.

"i saw you in charms today and you looked pretty, i wanted to drag you out of the classroom and kiss you until our lips looked swollen and we have to separate to breathe." james thought you looked pretty that day too.

"i went to see your quidditch game. you're actually pretty good. your hair was even more messy than normal though." when james read that he flung himself on his bed, holding the back of his hand to his forehead, grinning. you don't like quidditch. you came anyway.

"when do you think we'll see each other next?" soon, he hopes.

"i think i'm starting my period, my breasts are tender :( you're always good with your hands." the implications makes his head fuzzy. he'd absolutely look after you, he'd touch you gently and make you feel better. he'd hug you softly if you'd let him and do anything that'll help you feel a bit better.

"can you touch me in history of magic again?"

"some information that you might want to know: i'm on birth control."

"next time i see you i want to give you a blowjob. you didn't take your shirt off last time but you have to next time, it's not fair."

james mumbles, "you're killing me" under his breath.

he can't bring himself to ever throw the letters away, they're from you. he sometimes reread the letters late at night while jerking off and thinking of you and the things he'll do the next time he'll see you. he doesn't regret keeping the letters... he doesn't... that is until sirius found them at least.

opening up one james' drawers next to his bedside table he finds your letters to him, curiously sirius glances at the first note and a cocky smirk appears on his face. sirius picks up the whole pile of letters and waves it in the air. "prongs," he says in a singsong voice, "what's this?"

james looks up and sees his friend holding up the notes you've sent to him. he panics but he hides it well, looking away back at the marauders map where he was previously spying on filch.

"i've been fucking with snivellus. i've been sending him love letters." he keeps his tone as even as he can, sirius can't know they're from you.

"this isn't your handwriting james," he replies still smirking.

"anybody can change their handwriting sirius." james says still looking down but he hasn't been paying attention to the map as soon as sirius found the letters.

he doesn't say anything for a second until, "fair enough." sirius plops down on the bed next to james looking over his shoulder at the map. "why didn't you tell the rest of us though?" sirius questions suddenly as he just thought about it.

"didn't think it was that important." james doesn't know if sirius will believe him so before sirius can think it through james starts talking about their quidditch game coming up.

sirius has no reason to doubt james in the end and even gives him ideas in the following weeks to write to snape. he'll have to be more careful next time with hiding your notes, he still won't throw them away though.