#we will never have a cast like this ever again

[fushiguho]

Curiosity & the Poor, Unfortunate Cat ⭑.ᐟ

ᯓ★ Synopsis Toji Fushiguho — an absent father, a college dropout, and a panhandling loiterer who just so happens to be your father’s best friend. Obviously you have to fuck him... out of pity, of course.

Wordcount 4k

Warnings fem!reader, age gap, toji is kind of disrespectful but so are you, so much teasing it’s insane, toji has a filthy mouth (duh), rough sex, unprotected, spanking, abrupt ending, brat taming??

Author's Notes this was inspired by an anon request for toji as your father’s best friend which was so freaking fun to write (everyone say thank yew anonnnn) and this was supposed to be a drabble but i know no limits... i was also channeling a lot of my own desires here #needthat p.s. this blog is under construction, i’m in the midst of transferring my work from my previous account which was marked as explicit boooo :/

Your sheets ruffle as you discontentedly toss in bed, the silken fabric bunching haphazardly while you writhe, empty stomach caving in a ravenous hunger. Internally, you curse yourself, wishing you had eaten the dinner your father prepared earlier, but now, it’s definitely too late. You’re sure Toji has already scarfed whatever was left of it down into that perpetually endless gut of his. You’ve never stood a chance. Alas, you must eat, so with a groan of annoyance, you roll out of bed, padding to the kitchen on the hunt for satiation.

It’s the dead of night. The sacred time of day when nothing is expected of you. When everyone you have ever known is fast asleep and you’re all that remains. Darkness consumes the lifeless house as you shuffle across the carpeted floor. A night light that’s tucked at the end of the long hall flickers like a dwindling torch in the depths of a dark, endless forest. As you creep down the steep staircase, you sigh, taking notice of overhead microwave light already casting a soft, amber glow — there is someone else that too remains.

Toji.

“You can’t keep eating all of our food.” You huff, abruptly announcing your presence as you near the final step, observing the burly, sable haired man that raids your barren fridge. “I don’t even know why my father puts up with you.”

He smells your sweet, gourmand perfume before he even registers your voice. It’s utterly embarrassing how painfully his cock aches from a mere whiff of you, the sound of you. Unabashed, Toji shrugs, stuffing three, large strawberries into his greedy mouth, eyes narrowing on your pretty frame. “Your father loves me, sweetheart… couldn’t have raised your bratty ass without me.” His ravenous gaze lingers far too long, sharp eyes shamelessly flitting across your soft, exposed skin, sizing you up. “And hello to you too. What’s wrong with you young people? Does no one respect their elders anymore?”

“Oh, brother, here we go.” You grumble, bracing yourself for yet another fruitless lecture, arms crossing over your chest as you sit into your right hip. His keen eyes follow your subtle shift in stance. “And your son? Where is he?”

He scoffs. “With his mother, thank you.” Toji rolls his eyes, reaching for another strawberry. “You sure you don’t have homework to do or something? Always pesterin’ me. I’m old, damnit!”

“I graduated three years ago, thank you… though you can’t say the same,” you snide, rudely pushing past him to peer into the refrigerator, “and you're like forty-five… you should've gotten your shit together yesterday.” You add, growing progressively annoyed with his lingering presence. “Did you drink all of the milk again?”

“Heh, oh yeah. Whoops,” he goads, popping the p, “and I’m not that old, you brat.” He mumbles, esteem crumbling at your assumption.

He’s grown accustomed to your biting criticism, though in the beginning, he would almost always quarrel back, which inevitably led to the two of you in a needlessly heated and borderline flirtatious feud. Now, he’s learned to actively ignore your insults but god, he would only be lying if he said your petty, condescending remarks didn’t rewire the chemistry of his brain.

Alas, all he offers is another irritatingly indifferent shrug, a sly smile tugging at the corners of his scarred lips — his own twisted version of remittance. Toji doesn’t give a fuck, not one. He knows your father will replace it by the end of the week like he always does, so why should he?

It has been nearly a decade since your father has all too graciously granted Toji loitering rights to your childhood home. Never has he paid for groceries, for bills, for anything. He is penniless, indolent, and baselessly forthright, but god, is he the finest man you have ever known.

After both your father and Toji’s untimely and coincidentally synchronized divorces, the two have been inseparable ever since, wallowing in their shared pity together. During his unnecessarily messy divorce, Toji lost the house and your father was gracious enough to offer him a place to stay until he secures a stable job.

That was nine years ago.

Weirdly enough, Toji has known you the entirety of your existence, but not you his. From as early as you can remember, he was always just… there, but as time passed and you grew older, things changed; the way you thought about him changed. Before, you thought of him as just one of your father’s degenerate friends from undergrad who fell through the cracks. Today, that notion still holds, but now you want to fuck him, bad.

For years, you’ve imagined what Toji is like behind closed doors, what he would feel like, what he would fuck like. If he’s the type of man that plays with his food before eating it, if he even likes to eat his prey anyway. Maybe he’s the type of predator that prefers stringing his meals along, toying with and teasing them like some cruel, one-sided game and he’s got the unfair advantage. Either way, you don’t think you’d mind.

Countless nights you’ve found yourself sprawled apart with his name on the tip of your tongue. Bare, perspiring body bowing as you brainlessly fuck yourself against one of his sweatshirts that you snagged from the laundry he doesn’t do. There is no doubt that Toji has heard the desperate cries of his name that pour from beneath your paper thin door, your pretty whimpers so incredibly loud and slutty and all for him.

If he wanted, you’d let him have in the worst possible way. You would let him pry you apart and gut you out completely, leaving you nothing but a shell of your former self — drooling, stuffed, and defiled. The utter heinous things you’d commit for a mere taste of his skin is a direct contradiction of who you are and everything your father believes he’s raised you to be. You’re no angel.

Defeated, you close the refrigerator, a deep, irritated sigh dragging from your lips. This man is useless, you think. If not for his maddeningly beautiful face, you’d sock him in it, sending him tumbling to the floor so that you can finally mount him and —

“Do you wanna fuck? Is that it?”

A long, deafening beat passes. You swallow thickly. “… what?”

“You heard me. I asked if you want to fuck.” He reiterates, voice eerily calm as if he couldn’t care less about the proposition at hand. “You’re always so pissed with me, thinkin’ that’s maybe what you need... a good fuck, heh.”

His blatantly unprovoked inquiry is jostling you back into reality, because what? What the hell is wrong with him? Why did the question roll off of his tongue so quickly? So smoothly? As if it’s no big deal, as if this is just another one of his usual, overly prying questions. Is he serious?

“Toji, wha—”

“You don’t think I’m stupid, do you?” His head is falling to the right, a sleazy grin marring his slick lips. “You don’t think I see the way you look at me, sweetheart? Not a very discreet girl, I’ll tell you that…” a dark, gut wrenching chuckle rumbles from the depths of his chest, “maybe a noisy one though, hm?” He hums, quirking an omniscient brow.

Guiltily, your gaze is falling to the tiled floor, thighs pressing together as you mumble. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” Sure.

He laughs again. “You’re not a good liar either,” he’s creeping closer, the warmth of his breath like kindle to a rampant flame, “but you’re a pretty little thing… you know that already though, huh?” A curious hand is creeping around your waist, slyly reeling you in, the redolence of his cheap, inebriating cologne permeating the sinisterly thick air.

You expel an audible breath, taking a cautious step backward, yet he follows, taking a larger step forward, a step closer. Your skin burns, cheeks warming with crimson. He’s too fucking close and he knows it. What if someone sees? You don’t think you can bear the consequences that’d unfold if your father were to ever find the two of you like this. He would kill Toji, then you, and finally himself for good measure.

But god, do you want to find out. When it comes to human nature, curiosity always seems to prevail and fuck, are you one curious cat. There is something innately deep and pressing within your soul that craves satiation. It yearns to be known, to be explored. A deep, perpetually endless hole that aches — it longs to be filled, to be stuffed. None of your peers can do that for you, you’re convinced.

Your dark, repressed desires are only concerning your stance on feminism, but you don’t care, that’s the very thing. You want to find out. You need that, undoubtedly. Is what they say about older men true? The thought lingers as you contemplate the looming proposition. Yes, he’s your father’s closest friend. Yes, he’s far older than you with a child of his own. And yes, your perpetual obsession is only growing increasingly worrisome by the ticking clock, but truly, who can blame you? Look at him.

“C’monnn, you won’t even look at me, doll?” He frowns, a big hand cupping your chin, pulling your gaze upward. “Thought your father and I taught you better than that, no?”

Another loud, incredulous breath escapes your parted lips. “I’m sorry.” You whisper, cunt drooling.

Just the sweet, innocent quaver of your voice alone makes his cock twitch. His plaid pajama bottoms growing near uncomfortable as the fat, mushroom head leaks against the dampening fabric. What’s left of his dwindling resolve is slipping from his fingertips when you’re finally peering up at him, the coy bat of your lashes so perfectly slutty. Pretty, pleading eyes all wide and glossed over with your evident lust. God, he knows you need it.

Toji groans, conflicted for half a beat before growling a strangled and defeated, ‘fuck it’ then, his lips are slotting against yours in a delirious, haphazard kiss. Large hands blindly creep around your waist, dragging you impossibly closer. “This… this is your fucking fault.” He grouses, warm tongue delving so shamelessly inside of your honeyed mouth, greedily licking his way to the source.

“Fuck me then,” you’re pulling away just barely and he can’t help but to follow, subconsciously chasing your fleeting lips, “make me sorry.” It’s quiet, breathless, your pretty lips ghosting his.

And maybe you shouldn’t have said that, but it’s still not too late to end this — to push him away and say no, this isn’t right. It’s not too late to head to bed and forget any of this ever happened, but the way he’s twirling you around to push you over the marble countertop might be a step too far and damn sure too late.

“Sweetheart, you’ll be so fucking sorry,” a singular hand is peeling your lounge shorts down, down, down your plush thighs until there’s nothing but a pool of silky fabric surrounding your ankles, baring your syrupy folds, “spread those fuckin’ legs for me like a good, obedient girl. Let me see how wet that sloppy pussy is.”

With your face snug against the marble, all you can manage is a weak, fruitless gasp of his name, the warmth of your frantic breaths condensing the frigid countertop. You’re craning your head to the side, rising to the palms of your hands to observe the burly man that looms behind you. Fuck, he’s going to kill you.

He simpers, trailing several, curious fingers from your swollen clit allll the way down to your visibly tightening hole which drools endlessly. Pearlescent gossamers of arousal cling to the pads of his fat digits, kissing his skin in a beautiful sheen of your bountiful essence. The warm, abrupt stretch of his careless fingers as they sink deeeeep inside of your slobbering hole is peerless, prying your jaw open in a pretty, guttural moan — so raw and primal and all for him.

“Thaaat’s it, let me hear you, girl… sound even prettier up close,” he’s leaning down to better observe your desperate wails of rapture, pressing his clothed cock against the rear of your bare ass in the process, “got me fucking my hand like an idiot to the sound of you. How rude is that?” His breath hot and laden with lust against the crook of your neck.

Another wanton moan is belting from your gaped mouth at his confession. You can hardly help the pathetic buck of your hips, weakly fucking yourself against the stocky hand that cups your pretty pussy. The gnawing stretch of his fingers set your skin ablaze and yet, it’s not enough. You need more.

“Just f-fuck me… please? Before he gets home.” God, you are so fucking cute, bottom lip quivering in… fear? Anticipation?

Toji frowns feigndly. “Oh, don’t tell me you’re scared now, sweet girl?” A warm, calloused palm is splaying across the thick of your hip, pulling you closer to the edge of the marble. “Sure doesn’t feel like it…” he taunts, dragging his fingers out of you to smear your prolific arousal between your swollen lips and the slit of your ass, soon bringing them up to your stupidly gaped mouth, “doesn’t it taste like it either, huh?” He prompts you to taste yourself, his long, drooling digits hanging before your subconsciously parting lips.

And god, you could fucking cum right there, cunt throbbing embarrassingly around nothing but the fleeting memory of his fingers. You hardly have the time to loll out your tongue before he’s rudely stuffing his fingers into your warm, obedient mouth. A synchronous, drawn out moan echoing from both of your slacked jaws, yours muffled by his fat digits and his so careless and plainly conquered by his ineffable lust.

You hum contentedly around his thick fingers, cleaning your own arousal from them like the good whore he always knew you’d be. Drool spills from the corners of your lips and down his burly knuckles, coating his hand in an obscene mess of your sweet saliva. His fingers are deliberately creeping farther down your slutty little throat, forcing a proper gag from the pit of your core, more of your saliva consequently cascading down his palm.

Like the nasty slut he is, he’s pulling them out of your mouth, only to plop them inside of his own, sucking and drooling down those very digits, his cruel gaze holding yours. A guttural groan belts from the depths of his chest, sable eyes fluttering shut as he hums in satisfaction. Your mouth falls wide, jaw slacked as pretty little pants of incredulity pour from it, poor cunt aching in your ever growing arousal. What. The. Fuck.

“What? Nothing else to fuckin’ say, huh?” Those same fingers are running along your cunt once more, messily smearing the sinful amalgamation of married saliva. They’re sweeping across your swollen clit before slowly sinking back inside of you, preparing you. “Always talkin’ so much shit to me. Gonna shut you up real soon, sweetheart… swear to god.”

A stupid gasp parts your lips, stomach caving in arousal at the sound of him hastily slipping out of his plaid bottoms. A greedy hand is latching to the back of your right knee, pulling your leg up to pin it against the cool marble. The sight of your pretty pussy in all of her sloppy glory makes his cock twitch, the head dripping in sinful rivulets of pearlescent arousal.

You can barely stand the way he takes his cock into his fist, idly pumping his pretty erection, a slutty grin spreading across his scarred lips. From his girthy base allll the way to the fat, leaking head, he strokes himself, but not before swiping the pad of his thumb across the drooling opening, spreading his arousal down the expanse of his monstrous length. You fucked up. Royally.

“God,” you mumble, turning back around to stuff your face into the crook of your arm in utter horror, “god, I am s…so sorry.”

And he fucking laughs. Laughs at your apology; it’s loud and obnoxious and so clearly intended to piss you off because you’re not sorry, you’re scared and he knows it. He can see the way your body trembles atop the counter, drooling cunt shamelessly exposed with your leg hiked up so rudely. The way your big, pleading eyes widen in fear as he creeps closer. Even your futile attempt to scoot away when he begins to drag the head of his cock between both of your slutty holes, almost as if he can’t decide which to ruin first.

“Nuh uh… c’mere,” he nearly growls, impertinently pulling you back before him by the flimsy fabric of your night shirt, a disapproving grunt ensuing, “tryna run away from me, huh?” Two, large hands are groping the fat of your ass, brazenly spreading you apart. “Oughta’ teach you some fuckin’ manners… such a mean little thing. Hell’s wrong with you?”

The head of his cock rests so heavily against your sloppy hole, hot precum oozing against the mess of slick that adorns your pretty pussy. Toji slaps the dense head against your lips once. A droning, helpless mewl pours from your gaped mouth, only for him to do it again, and again, and again. A lewd and deafening plap! plap! plap! reverberates throughout the dimly lit kitchen, sticky gossamers of married arousal tethering you as one.

“Knew you’d have a pretty cunt,” he admits, briefly dipping the head of his cock inside of you, dragging a wanton whimper from your lips, “such a shame y’er so mean to me… would’ve had you like this years ago if not for that nasty little mouth of yours.” He’s sinking inside of you yet again, but only to pull out when he’s gone too deep.

If your father were to walk into this kitchen at this very moment, he’d be utterly appalled. Horrified. You’re writhing beneath him, hips bucking so sluttily against his teasing cock. God, you have never craved something so horribly in your life; you could just die from the sheer deprivation and it’s hilarious to him. He’s taunting you like it’s some cruel fucking game and he’s got the upper hand.

Again, he laughs. “Oh, you want it bad, huh?”

“Yes, fuck.” You growl, evidently frustrated.

“Awwww you mad, sweetheart?” He irritatingly coos, leaning down to press a wet, openmouthed kiss to the nape of your neck. “Is that poor pussy frustrated huh?” Another sloppy kiss between the valley of your shoulder blades, the head of his cock gliding between your glossy lips, spreading you apart. “Heh, she’s cryin’ for it, such a messy girl… drooling all over my cock like that.”

“Please,” it’s a broken, shameless plea as you crane your head, beautiful tears of desperation pricking your eyes, your pride somewhere so far gone, “pleasepleaseplease.”

A dark, breathy chuckle parts his lips, aching cock jerking against your awaiting hole. For years, he’s imagined you just like this — begging and crying for his cock like some insatiable whore. If anything, he’s denying himself; though, what’s left of his restraint quickly perishes at the sight of your sobbing hole tightening around nothing, kissing his shaft in a gleaming, warm mess.

He almost can’t help but to sink inside of you again, instead this time, he’s giving you everything, all of his twitching cock. The abrupt intrusion forces an incredulous gasp past your lips, a low, throaty groan dragging from his slack jaw in tandem. And just as he thought, your greedy pussy is swallowing his fat cock to the base effortlessly, almost as if it was hand tailored for you.

You’re fighting the gnawing urge to run — to clamber across the countertop and cower in fear, but you can’t fucking move. He’s got you pinned to the marble, a heavy hand at the rear of your neck, the other splayed across the thick of your hip, pulling you back onto his cock. It aches. The delirious stretch of his cock and how it steals your breath away, your mouth sagged, yet nothing is uttered. For once in your life, you’re speechless.

“Is this really all it takes, huh?” His hips are reeling back, the shiny essence of your arousal sheathing the entirety of his cock. “God, is this all it fucking takes to shut you up? A cock in this slutty little pussy, huhhh?” The bruising snap of his hips as he pummels forward nearly has you gushing down the length of him all too soon. “Answer me… and use your big girl words, c’mon sweetheart.” 

A loud, desperate gasp of air is all you can manage, bottom lip trembling as you attempt to say something, anything. The hand that holds your neck is threading throughout your mussed hair, forcing your gaze onto his and he can’t help but to laugh at your stupid expression — drool spilling from the corners of your mouth, thick brows knitted so tightly as your pretty eyes threaten to cross. Of course you can’t fucking speak, you’re drunk.

“My goodness, I wish you could see yourself… you’re so stupid on it,” he admires almost endearingly, a warm, mindless thumb grazing your bottom lip, “that perfect fucking face, god. You are so pretty taking it, such a goooood pretty slut for that cock, fuck.” The near possessive growl that belts from the depths of his lungs is like nothing you have ever heard — so filthy and shameless and ridden with his unbearable lust.

Toji is completely losing himself in the wet, endless abyss of pleasure that is you. Babbling nothing but loud, reckless praises, your pretty name spilling so willfully from his slutty tongue. He can hardly help the way he’s subconsciously jerking you back onto his cock. His big, greedy hands tighten so possessively around your pretty waist, meeting himself halfway. The obscene plap! of his achingly full balls beating up your quivering clit with each ensuing thrust.

“Thaaat’s it, you’re so good, that pussy is so fucking good… takin’ it soo deep for me.” He mindlessly blabbers, a large hand creeping beneath the thin fabric of your shirt, the calloused pads of his fingers sweeping across your soft, perspiring skin.

Every coherent thought you have ever had is long forgotten, poor mind completely barren. He’s the only thing you can hear, think, feel — the greedy hands that wordlessly command you, the warm stretch of his drooling cock as it wholly splits you apart. Even the fat, curious thumb that’s sinking inside of that other poor, neglected hole of yours is prying your lips open in a helpless mewl of pleasure.

“It’s sooo good… sooofuckingooood, oh my god.” You snarl, teeth bared and his jaw nearly unhinges — you sound so fucking pretty. “I love it, I love it, I loveee your c-cock.”

“Yeaaah, sweetheart?” He coos, heavy head deliriously falling back to dangle between his broad shoulders. “God, you needed this, didn’t you? Look at your hips buck like such a nasty slut.” A loud, ear splitting smack! lands against the fat of your ass. “Do you dream about it after you fuck yourself and cum all over my clothes, huh?” Another smack! to the other cheek, your poor cunt consequently squeezing down the base of his cock. “No fucking shame either.”

You possess half the brain to respond, not sure whether to shake your head or nod, too far gone to even make sense of anything anymore. Moan after unrestrained moan spill from both of your raptured tongues, the two of you sharing a few synchronous gasps of air or delirious cries of overwhelming pleasure. It’s the most debauched, yet utterly erotic thing you have ever experienced, but then, there’s a loud, roaring voice that’s stilling Toji’s hips.

“What the fuck is going on here?!”

Fuck.

© fushiguho.

[dreamertf]

College Changes You

/includes: jock tf, getting handsomer, getting taller, gay to straight

Danny looked at Chris in shock. They hadn't seen each other in months, but they both had come back to their hometown for Thanksgiving. Since they were both in town, they decided to catch up over dinner.

Only the man in front of Chris wasn't the same 5'5" twiggy computer science major. The man in front of him was at least 6'3" nearly a foot taller than the old danny, and incredibly buff. Danny was never horrible looking to Chris but it was like a hollywood casting agent had replaced him. He was recognizable if you squinted enough, but the sharp jawline and giant brown eyes just drew you in.

"So what have you been up to man?" Danny was the first to break the silence.

"Uh not much, just school yaknow...."

Chris couldn't stop staring at his huge pecs. Not fully being able to make conversation

"How about you?"

"Oh not much! Recently I invented a new device that lets me change the fabric of reality."

Dan said with a smile, casually. His sensual voice singled out in the loud restraunt, it was like it was the only thing that Chris could focus on.

Chris didn't know how to respond, he watched danny pull out a small device that looked much like a normal smartphone. He tapped a few things and put it back in his pocket.

Suddenly he grew a few more inches to 6'10". His aura becoming much more enchanting, like he was the only thing in the universe thay existed.

As the waitress came over, she couldn't help but only look at the muscular adonis and not Chris.

"What can i get started for you guys?" She said, only looking at Danny.

"Actually, i think we changed our mind, we're gonna go somewhere else. Thank you so much for your help, heres a tip."

Danny said as he got up, gesturing for Chris to do the same. Chris hadn't seen him at his full height yet, it was stange to see his once best friend be a full foot taller than his own 5'10"

The waitress couldnt stop blushing as she just nodded and walked away, as chris stood up he realized he was fully erect.

"Haha already gunnin for it huh?" Danny said as he smirked, flexing his pecs.

---

They walked around a nearby park, chris dumbfounded unable to speak by the giant hunk next to him.

"So, i actually came to meet you for a reason."

Danny wanted him? He couldn't believe it. Chris looked up at him, surprised and blushing.

They both stopped walking as danny held chris' hands.

"I want you to serve me, Chris."

Suddenly, the ground dropped from underneath him as he buckled into himself, pure bliss and euphoria came over him as he came right there.

His limbs elongated and his shoulder broadened as they filled out with muscle. He moaned as his voice dropped a few octaves.

"I want you to take on the persona of a dumb straight frat bro."

Chris clutched his head as he felt his hands grow bigger, his mind losing memories of being any sort of intellectual. He had gotten by with his looks and athletic ability alone, and thats all he needed.

He stood up as his package slithered down his newly formed sweatpants.

"Now look at me pretty boy."

Danny grabbed him by the jaw as his face reformed into a much more appealing form. His jawline sharpened as his eyes lightened. Cheekbones rising as his face became perfectly symmetrical. Danny whispered in his hear one more time

"We're gonna be a couple, but you will be in denial. Girls dont do it like i do."

Danny gave him a long sloppy kiss as he trailed down his new muscular body, making sure to trace each nipple as he licked his way down his taut muscular defined torso.

Chris moaned as he felt danny start bobbing on his 10 inch member. He had never felt anyone's tongue be so skilled. This was far better than any girl he's ever had sex with.

Danny was pleasuring himself as sucked chris off, his huge 18 inch python calling for Chris' hole.

As chris came over and over again he looked down at his bro. Covered in cum.

"Now its your turn to serve me, turn around."

Chris fell into the grass. Pulling down his sweats, his muscular ass straight up in the air, pulsating as it felt it's master so close to it.

Danny felt his slick in his hands as he continued to massage it. He flopped it around a little as he held it by the thick veiny base.

"No homo though though, right?"

"No homo bro"

[novaursa]

Legacy (the dawn)

- Summary: Tywin was the man who saved you from Robert's wrath. He was also the man who doomed you.

- Paring: targ!reader/Tywin Lannister

- Note: Be aware of the time jump.

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Previous part: high heart

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround @luniaxi

The air in Meereen was heavy with heat, the midday sun blazing down on the city. Daenerys Targaryen sat on her throne in the Great Pyramid, her mind preoccupied with thoughts of Westeros and the ever-elusive Iron Throne. Despite her current struggles to maintain order in Meereen, the pull of her homeland never ceased, tugging at her heart like a distant song.

The sudden roar of a dragon shook the air, startling everyone in the throne room. Daenerys rose to her feet, her violet eyes narrowing as the roar came again, louder this time. Grey Worm stepped forward, his hand on his sword. “Your Grace, the dragons—”

“I will see to it,” Daenerys interrupted, her tone firm. She descended the steps of her throne, her silvery hair catching the sunlight that filtered through the windows. Missandei followed closely behind, her expression filled with concern.

As Daenerys stepped out into the courtyard where the dragons were kept, chaos unfolded before her. Viserion, his golden and cream scales glinting in the harsh light, thrashed against the heavy chains that bound him. His wings beat furiously, sending gusts of wind that knocked over barrels and scattered straw. His roars echoed across the city, a sound of pure frustration and fury.

“Viserion!” Daenerys called out, her voice strong and commanding. She moved closer, her hand outstretched, but the dragon paid her no heed. Instead, he reared back, his powerful neck straining as he yanked against the chains. The metal groaned under the pressure, and with a final, deafening roar, the chains snapped.

“Your Grace!” Missandei exclaimed, taking a cautious step back as Viserion spread his massive wings. The dragon turned his glowing eyes toward Daenerys for a brief moment, his expression one of raw emotion—longing, desperation, and something else she couldn’t quite place.

“Viserion, no,” Daenerys murmured, her voice softer now. But the dragon let out a final roar before taking to the skies, his massive form casting a shadow over the courtyard as he soared upward. Dust and debris swirled in the wake of his powerful wings, leaving the gathered Unsullied and servants shielding their faces.

Daenerys watched, her heart sinking as Viserion disappeared into the horizon, a golden streak against the blue sky. “Where is he going?” Missandei asked quietly, her voice laced with worry.

Daenerys didn’t answer immediately. Her gaze remained fixed on the direction Viserion had flown, her mind racing. The bond she shared with her dragons was unique, a connection forged by blood and fire. And yet, Viserion’s sudden agitation had taken her by surprise.

“He’s drawn to something,” Daenerys finally said, her tone thoughtful. “Something beyond the sea.”

Missandei exchanged a glance with Grey Worm, her brow furrowed. “Do you know what it is?”

Daenerys’s expression darkened, her hand tightening into a fist. “I have my suspicions,” she admitted. Her thoughts turned to the letter she had received many moons ago, smuggled to her by Varys’s network. The words of her elder sister, a woman she had never met but whose presence loomed over her thoughts, echoed in her mind.

"Blood calls to blood, Daenerys. Fire calls to fire. We are not alone in this world."

She had read those words over and over, trying to decipher their meaning. Her sister—once a princess of the Targaryen dynasty, now Lady Lannister—was alive in Westeros, bound to the man who had destroyed their house. The thought both angered and intrigued Daenerys. How could her sister align herself with the likes of Tywin Lannister? And yet, the letter’s tone had been warm, almost pleading.

“Viserion feels it,” Daenerys said, her voice soft but resolute. “The pull of our blood. My sister… she is alive, and somehow, he knows.”

Missandei tilted her head. “Your sister? The one you mentioned before?”

Daenerys nodded, her eyes still on the sky. “She wrote to me. She’s in Westeros, married to Tywin Lannister.”

Missandei’s eyes widened slightly. “The man who betrayed your family?”

“The very same,” Daenerys said bitterly. “But the letter spoke of regret… and love. She claims to wish for peace, for unity. I don’t know whether to believe her, but I can’t ignore her.”

Grey Worm stepped forward, his voice steady. “What will you do, Your Grace?”

Daenerys exhaled slowly, her hand resting on Drogon’s massive snout as her largest dragon approached her side. “For now, I will let Viserion fly where he must. He may lead us to answers we cannot yet see. As for my sister…” Her eyes burned with determination. “I will meet her, one way or another. Blood may call to blood, but fire always burns.”

She turned back toward the Great Pyramid, her mind set on the challenges to come. Viserion’s disappearance was not a loss—it was a sign. A sign that her destiny, and that of her family, was far from over.

You sat on a cushioned bench near the window, cradling Damon in your arms. At six moons old, he had grown strong and lively, his silver-gold hair catching the light like spun metal. His violet eyes, flecked with pale green, studied you intently as he cooed and grasped at your fingers.

A quiet knock at the door drew your attention. Before you could call for them to enter, the door opened, and Lady Olenna Tyrell swept in, her steps brisk and her sharp gaze immediately landing on you and Damon. Behind her, a servant carried a tray with tea and small cakes, setting it down on a low table before quickly exiting.

“Well, well,” Olenna said, her voice dry as she approached. “There you are, holding the future of House Lannister in your arms, and yet no one would believe it if they saw how soft you look with him.”

You smiled faintly, adjusting Damon as he reached for the hem of your gown. “He brings out the best in me, it seems,” you replied, your tone light but warm.

Olenna sat across from you, her hands resting on her walking stick as she surveyed you with her keen eyes. “He’s a fine-looking boy,” she said, her voice losing some of its usual acerbity. “The spitting image of a Targaryen, with just enough of the lion to keep Tywin content.”

You glanced at Damon, who was now gurgling happily as he played with your fingers. “Tywin has already begun planning his future,” you said softly, your voice tinged with both pride and concern. “Though I suppose that’s to be expected.”

Olenna leaned back slightly, her lips curling into a knowing smile. “Tywin Lannister rarely waits for anything, my dear. Least of all when it comes to legacy.”

You nodded, brushing a stray strand of hair from Damon’s face. “It’s not just him. Cersei… she still seethes. I see it in her eyes every time she looks at Damon. She views him as a threat.”

“Cersei views everyone as a threat,” Olenna replied with a wave of her hand. “The girl has more paranoia than sense, and it’s only grown worse since her boy was dethroned and the sweet little Tommen put in his place.”

You sighed, your fingers tightening slightly on Damon’s blanket. “It’s not just paranoia. It’s hatred. For me, for this child. I fear what she might do.”

Olenna’s gaze sharpened, and she leaned forward, her voice low but firm. “You are no fool, my dear. You’ve survived Tywin Lannister, the Red Keep, and a court full of vipers. Cersei may be dangerous, but she’s predictable. Keep your son close and your wits sharper.”

You met her eyes, drawing strength from her confidence. “I will.”

Damon let out a small giggle, breaking the tension, and Olenna’s lips twitched in amusement. “At least the little one seems oblivious to the chaos around him. That’s a gift, you know.”

You smiled down at him, brushing your fingers over his soft hair. “I want him to remain untouched by it all for as long as possible.”

Olenna picked up a cup of tea, taking a sip as she studied you. “You’re doing well, better than most would expect. Tywin must be pleased.”

“Pleased, yes,” you said, your tone carefully neutral. “But he always expects more.”

“Of course he does,” Olenna said with a scoff. “The man is a perfectionist to the point of madness. But don’t let him overshadow you. You’ve managed to carve out your place here, against all odds.”

You nodded, grateful for her words. “And what of your granddaughter? How is Margaery faring as queen?”

Olenna’s smile grew sly. “Margaery is thriving. Tommen adores her, and she’s already begun weaving her influence into the court. But Cersei, as expected, is less than thrilled. She simmers in her corner, plotting and glaring. It’s almost entertaining.”

You chuckled softly. “She must feel surrounded.”

“She is surrounded,” Olenna said with a smirk. “By women stronger, smarter, and far more capable than she is. And she hates every moment of it.”

The two of you shared a quiet laugh, though the weight of the court’s politics still lingered in the air. Damon let out a happy squeal, his tiny hands reaching up toward you, and you pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“He’s lucky to have you,” Olenna said after a moment, her tone softening. “A mother who will protect him, no matter what.”

“And he has you, Olenna,” you replied warmly. “To teach him the art of survival.”

Olenna chuckled, her sharp wit returning. “Oh, I’ll make sure of it. The boy will need it, growing up in a nest of lions.”

As the afternoon sun began to dip lower in the sky, the warmth of your conversation with Olenna stayed with you. Damon, content and secure in your arms, was a reminder of your strength and purpose—a beacon of hope in the treacherous world you now navigated.

Tywin Lannister sat at the head of the council table, his hands clasped before him, his expression as impassive as ever. Across from him, Lord Mace Tyrell, clad in rich green and gold, leaned slightly forward, his face a picture of jovial persistence.

“I must insist, my lord,” Mace said, his tone dripping with exaggerated warmth. “You’ve been at the helm of the realm’s affairs for so long, steering us through the storm. Surely, a brief respite would be in order for you and your family.”

Tywin’s gaze remained steady, his voice calm but firm. “The work of the Hand does not pause, Lord Tyrell. The realm still faces threats, not least of which is the unresolved matter of Tyrion’s escape. This is hardly the time for indulgence.”

Mace waved a hand dismissively, as though brushing aside Tywin’s concerns like cobwebs. “Nonsense! You’ve secured the throne for Tommen, quelled rebellions, and even managed to deal with the aftermath of that… unfortunate wedding incident. You deserve a reprieve, and where better than Highgarden? A place of beauty, tranquility, and fine company.”

Tywin arched a brow, unimpressed by Mace’s flowery praise. “You flatter yourself, Lord Tyrell.”

“And why shouldn’t I?” Mace replied with a hearty laugh. “Highgarden is a jewel, my lord, and it would do you and your family good to see it. Your wife has endured much, bearing your heir amid all this chaos. And your son, young Damon, deserves to experience the hospitality of the Reach.”

Tywin’s expression remained inscrutable, but there was a flicker of calculation in his eyes. “You paint an appealing picture, Lord Tyrell,” he said slowly. “But my presence here is not a luxury; it is a necessity.”

Mace leaned forward further, his hands resting on the table as he tried to press his case. “The Reach is loyal, my lord. Your absence for a fortnight would not disrupt the realm. Besides,” he added with a knowing smile, “a visit to Highgarden would strengthen the bonds between our houses. Tommen and Margaery are already a fine match, but a show of unity would silence any whispers of division.”

Tywin’s lips pressed into a thin line. “You assume there are whispers.”

“Oh, there are always whispers,” Mace said with an air of nonchalance. “But imagine how quickly they’d die down when the Hand of the King, his noble wife, and their child are seen enjoying the hospitality of their loyal allies.”

Tywin sat back slightly, his gaze sharpening as he studied Mace. He saw through the man’s bumbling charm; this was more than an invitation for rest. Mace sought to solidify the Tyrells’ position further, to entrench their influence by presenting themselves as indispensable to the crown. Still, the idea of a temporary reprieve for Y/N and Damon wasn’t without merit.

“You presume much, Lord Tyrell,” Tywin said at last. “But your argument is not without weight. My wife has indeed endured more than her share of trials, and my son should be acquainted with the lords who will one day swear fealty to him.”

Mace’s face lit up with a broad smile. “So, you’ll accept?”

Tywin held up a hand, silencing Mace’s premature enthusiasm. “I said your argument has merit. I have yet to decide. There are still pressing matters—Tyrion foremost among them.”

Mace waved a hand again, as if dismissing the urgency of Tyrion’s escape. “Tyrion is a clever man, but the realm will not crumble if he remains in hiding a few weeks longer. Surely your captains and spies are more than capable of continuing the search without your direct oversight.”

The room fell silent for a moment as Tywin considered Mace’s words. His mind was a fortress of strategy, weighing the risks and benefits of leaving the capital for even a short time. At last, he spoke, his tone measured. “I will discuss this with my wife. If we are to go, it will be as a united decision.”

Mace nodded, his smile broadening. “Of course, my lord. Highgarden awaits you with open arms. And rest assured, everything will be prepared to accommodate you and your family in the finest style.”

Tywin inclined his head slightly, signaling the end of the discussion. “You’ll have my answer soon, Lord Tyrell.”

Taking the hint, Mace stood, bowing deeply. “Thank you, Lord Hand. I look forward to welcoming you to the Reach.”

As Mace left the chamber, Tywin leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled in thought. The man’s overeager demeanor grated on him, but the invitation itself held potential. A brief retreat to Highgarden could prove advantageous—if handled correctly. Still, the decision would not be made lightly.

Tywin rose from his chair and made his way to the door, his thoughts already turning to how he would present the matter to you. This would be no simple holiday, but rather another maneuver in the ever-shifting game of power. And as always, Tywin intended to win.

The evening air in the chambers was heavy with the lingering warmth of the day. You sat near the window, cradling a goblet of water as you watched the darkening sky. Damon slept peacefully in his cradle, his quiet breaths filling the otherwise silent room. The knock at the door came softly, but you knew who it was without needing to ask.

"Enter," you called, your voice steady.

Tywin stepped inside, his presence commanding as always, though there was a faint weariness about him. The strain of the past months had etched itself into the lines of his face, but his eyes remained sharp, his movements deliberate as he approached you.

“Lord Tyrell extended an invitation today,” he began, his tone as measured as ever. “To Highgarden. For us, and for Damon.”

You raised an eyebrow, swirling the water in your goblet thoughtfully. “How generous of him,” you said lightly, though your mind immediately turned to Olenna and Margaery. It was too perfectly timed, too deliberate. “And you are considering it?”

Tywin studied you for a moment before nodding. “There is merit to the idea. A temporary reprieve from the capital may serve us well, especially after recent events.”

You met his gaze, reading the calculation behind his words. Highgarden, for all its beauty and promise of peace, was also a political move. The Tyrells sought to entrench themselves deeper within the Lannister sphere, and Tywin was not a man to miss such an opportunity—or to allow himself to be manipulated.

“I can’t imagine this was entirely Lord Mace’s idea,” you mused, a faint smirk tugging at your lips. “The Queen of Thorns and your new queen-by-marriage are far too shrewd to leave such invitations to him.”

Tywin’s lips twitched, almost imperceptibly. “You may not be wrong.”

You leaned back slightly, considering. A part of you bristled at the thought of dancing to Olenna’s tune, but another part—the one that had been growing stronger with each passing day—saw the opportunity. Highgarden would bring you closer to the western roads, closer to something that had been calling to you ever since you arrived in the capital. High Heart. The dream whispered its pull to you still, a distant voice that refused to be silenced.

“It would be nice to leave the Red Keep,” you admitted, your tone softening. “The stifling politics. The whispers. A chance to let Damon see a world beyond these stone walls.”

Tywin nodded slowly, his eyes searching yours. “You’ve endured much here. Perhaps it would serve us all to have a change of scenery.”

You smiled faintly, but your thoughts were already turning to how you might use the journey to your advantage. High Heart was far from the Reach, but maybe with Tywin’s focus on securing alliances, you might find the opportunity to uncover what awaited you there. Somehow. Still, you said nothing of it, choosing instead to let him think it was the idea of respite that appealed to you.

“And what of the capital?” you asked, turning the subject slightly. “You’ve always said the Hand must remain steadfast. Wouldn’t your absence leave a gap?”

“I’ll leave it in capable hands,” Tywin replied, his voice firm. “Preparations have already been made. My presence, while always important, is not irreplaceable.”

You tilted your head, studying him. “Even you admit to being irreplaceable?”

He stepped closer, his expression softening slightly as he leaned down, his hands resting on the arms of your chair. “Don’t test me,” he said, though his tone held the faintest trace of humor.

You chuckled softly, setting the goblet aside. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

For a moment, the air between you shifted, the weight of the day giving way to something unspoken. Tywin reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering longer than necessary. His gaze was intent, his expression uncharacteristically open.

“Come here,” he murmured, his voice low.

You rose from your seat, stepping closer to him as his hands found your waist, pulling you against him. The kiss he pressed to your lips was firm, commanding, but with an edge of need that surprised you. It had been some time since you’d seen him like this, the weight of his responsibilities often keeping such moments at bay.

As his lips moved against yours, the firelight seemed to grow warmer, wrapping around you like a cocoon. His hands roamed, steady but insistent, and when he guided you toward the bed, you didn’t resist.

“Tywin…” you murmured as he leaned over you, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that left you breathless.

“Quiet,” he whispered, his voice a blend of authority and desire. “Just… for tonight, let everything else wait.”

The soft crackle of the fire in the hearth was the only sound as Tywin’s lips trailed from your mouth to the sensitive skin of your neck, his breath warm against your pulse. His hands, firm and steady, moved over the fabric of your gown, unfastening it with a precision that left no room for hesitation.

“You’re too careful,” you teased softly, your voice catching as his fingers brushed your bare skin.

Tywin’s eyes flicked up to meet yours, his gaze sharp but laced with a faint smirk. “And you’re too reckless,” he murmured, his voice low, but his tone carried the slightest edge of humor.

The gown slipped from your shoulders, pooling at your feet as he guided you back onto the bed. The mattress gave beneath your weight, and Tywin followed, his movements unhurried yet commanding. His hand brushed over your cheek, his thumb tracing the curve of your jaw before dipping lower to rest against your collarbone.

“Even now, you challenge me,” he said, his lips ghosting over your skin. “Do you ever tire of it?”

“Never,” you replied, breathless, your fingers finding their way into his hair. “But I think you enjoy it more than you admit.”

His response was a low hum of amusement, his lips descending to capture yours again. The kiss was deep, consuming, as though he intended to silence your defiance with sheer will. The world outside the chamber faded further, leaving only the sensation of his body pressing against yours, the weight of him grounding you.

Damon stirred briefly in his cradle, a soft murmur that had you turning your head instinctively. But Tywin’s hand caught your chin, gently pulling your gaze back to him.

“Focus on me,” he ordered softly, his voice firm yet tender. “He’s safe.”

You nodded, your heart thundering as his hand moved lower, skimming over your body with deliberate slowness. Each touch was a statement, a reminder of the control he held, yet there was a vulnerability in his actions tonight—a softness that spoke of trust, of the rare moments he allowed himself to truly be with you.

The firelight danced across his features as he leaned over you, his body shielding you from the chill of the night air. His kisses grew deeper, his touch more insistent, until you were lost in the rhythm of him, in the way he seemed to know every part of you, every need and every desire.

You clung to him, your hands roaming over the broad expanse of his back, your breaths mingling as he whispered your name. The sound of it, so rarely spoken with such unguarded affection, sent a shiver through you.

As the night deepened, you found yourself surrendering to him completely, the weight of his presence filling the empty spaces within you. There was a rare tenderness in the way he held you afterward, his hand stroking your hair as your head rested against his chest. Damon’s soft breaths filled the quiet once more, a comforting reminder of the life you had created together.

For a moment, the world outside these chambers ceased to matter. The whispers, the plots, the endless calculations—they could wait. Here, in this fleeting pocket of peace, you allowed yourself to simply exist with him, bound by love, ambition, and the shared weight of your choices.

The carriage swayed gently as it trundled down the well-worn road, the rhythmic sound of wheels turning over gravel blending with the occasional chirping of birds in the trees above. Sunlight filtered through the thin curtains of the carriage, casting shifting patterns on the interior as you adjusted Damon on your lap. He was bright-eyed and curious, his tiny hands reaching for the gold-trimmed fabric of your gown.

Lady Olenna Tyrell sat across from you, her sharp gaze fixed on the boy as she leaned slightly on her walking stick. “He has the look of a dragon,” she remarked, her tone matter-of-fact but carrying a trace of admiration. “Though I suppose we can thank his father for the steel in his gaze.”

You smiled faintly, brushing a strand of hair from Damon’s face as he gurgled happily. “He has much to live up to,” you said softly, cradling him closer. “But for now, he is simply my son.”

Olenna tilted her head, her expression softening slightly as she studied you. “A wise answer. Let the boy enjoy his innocence while he can. The world will demand much of him soon enough.”

The faint clinking of armor and the murmur of voices drifted in from outside, a reminder of the large procession surrounding your carriage. Tywin rode at the head, his imposing figure unmistakable even from a distance. Beside him, Lord Mace Tyrell spoke animatedly, his gestures exaggerated as he tried to engage the Hand of the King in conversation. Ser Barristan rode nearby, ever-watchful, his eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of trouble.

Olenna’s sharp voice drew your attention back inside. “I must say, this entire endeavor has Margaery’s fingerprints all over it,” she said dryly, adjusting her gloves. “The girl likely thought the fresh air would do everyone good, and no doubt she whispered as much to her dear husband. Clever, really.”

You refrained from responding directly, though inwardly, you agreed. Margaery and Olenna both had a hand in this trip—of that, you were certain. Still, there was a part of you that welcomed the opportunity. The Red Keep, with its oppressive walls and suffocating tension, had worn on you more than you cared to admit. And though you didn’t voice it aloud, the idea of finding an excuse and venturing closer to High Heart on the way back stirred something deep within you.

“It is a welcome change of scenery,” you said instead, your tone carefully neutral. “The Red Keep has not been kind to anyone lately.”

Olenna snorted softly. “That’s an understatement. Between Cersei’s brooding and Joffrey’s legacy still hanging over the court, it’s a wonder anyone can breathe in that place.”

You chuckled lightly, though the mention of Cersei brought a flicker of tension to your features. Damon squirmed in your arms, drawing your focus back to him. “You’ll see Highgarden soon enough, little one,” you murmured to him, your tone soft and soothing. “It will be a sight to remember.”

“Indeed, he’ll be the center of attention,” Olenna said, her gaze never leaving Damon. “A Targaryen child in the Reach? Oh, the lords and ladies will be falling over themselves to catch a glimpse.”

“That is what concerns me,” you admitted, your voice lowering. “I want him to grow up safely, without being treated as a symbol or a pawn.”

Olenna’s expression turned serious, her sharp wit giving way to genuine understanding. “You’re a good mother, my dear. But you’re also wise enough to know that in our world, symbols and pawns are unavoidable. The key is ensuring they are played to your advantage.”

You nodded, her words sinking in. The carriage fell into a comfortable silence for a moment, broken only by the sounds of the procession and Damon’s soft coos.

Outside, Tywin glanced back briefly, his piercing gaze sweeping over the carriage. He nodded slightly to Ser Barristan, who rode closer to the carriage, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. It was a subtle gesture, but one that spoke volumes about his vigilance.

Olenna followed your gaze, her lips curving into a faint smile. “Your husband looks at you as though you hold the sun and moon in your hands.”

You blinked, startled by the comment. “He is... attentive,” you said carefully, unsure how to respond.

“Attentive?” Olenna scoffed lightly. “My dear, Tywin Lannister is a lion through and through. He doesn’t simply watch; he calculates. And yet, with you, there is something... different. It’s almost endearing.”

You looked away, unsure of how to respond. Tywin’s complex nature was not something easily put into words, even for you. Instead, you returned your focus to Damon, who had begun to drift off in your arms.

The carriage rolled on, the distant outline of Highgarden slowly coming into view on the horizon. As the day stretched on, you couldn’t help but feel a mixture of anticipation and unease. Highgarden was a place of beauty and influence, but the call to High Heart lingered in your thoughts like a whisper in the wind. You would need to tread carefully, for the path ahead was as unpredictable as the game of thrones itself.

[pearlzier]

ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ 𝜗℘ㆍ nerd.ᐟmatt ☆ nerd.ᐟreader ，✿

"POPULAR, YOU'RE GONNA BE POPULAR," you'd sing when you were doing absolutely anything. it was no shock to anyone that you adore musicals, you're an absolute theatre fiend. since you were a little kid, it's been your form of escapism, being able to transform into a different person on stage instead of how sheepish you usually are. matt personally loved how confident you were infront of an audience and so passionately speaking the lines you'd worked so hard to perfect.

after the inarguable disaster that was the mean girls adaptation (you'd quite literally sobbed into his arms about how bad it was) you two were pretty sceptical about a wicked movie adaptation.

"you really like uh.." matt's watching you, as best as he can, anyway, considering the fact that he's driving the two of you towards the cinema. his eyes flutter back to the road, hand working over the wheel as he holds onto it. "uh.. what's her name, the woman who played glinda on broadway—" he drums his fingers against the wheel in thought.

you adored the original wicked on broadway, you'd practically learnt the entire score, and you were so serious when it came to elphaba and glinda. literally, you and your bestfriend had gone as them one time for halloween before it was trendy to do so—the 'og's, shall we say. you loved many musicals, but wicked would always have a soft spot in your heart. having gone to see it live, it was a memory you'd never forget.

you were like, the most qualified ever to judge whether a wicked movie adapation was actually as good as it should be.

well, matt thought you were, anyway. he held you in extremely high regard.

he doesn't even get to finish before you're interjecting, "kristin chenoweth!" causing a smile to spread across his lips. there you go again, so eager to talk about musicals. he only ever sees you this happy when you're talking about the things you like or when you're with him.

"kristin chenoweth," he agrees quietly, watching the way the gleam in your eyes twinkles as you speak. he's in awe, pure awe, at how perfect you are. he'll get better at voicing it, he's sure of it. he's just.. a little overwhelmed by how much he loves you.

"she's amazing, matt," you insist, adjusting the tote bag sat in your lap. nothing could describe the amount of energy you have right now, you're practically bouncing off the inside of the car with joy right now. this might be one of the best moments of your life if you're completely honest with yourself.

"this is gonna be amazing, 'm sure of it. the marketing team are working overtime for this." matt might actually cry if he has to drink down another glinda themed robinsons drink—he won't, he'll brave it for you, but still.

matt isn't exactly into musicals the way you are, he usually plays video games, watches movies, and gets so hype over them it's crazy. though, you get it, your interests make you just as feral. but this is a movie musical, so you think he'll be into it as well. wicked was inescapable, his entire for you page was just glinda and elphaba and he wasn't even mad about it. couldn't be, especially with how happy it made you.

it was like when hamilton was trending, oh, god, you'd performed like seven one woman performances of the musical that he's sure he can quote the entire thing by now.

the two of you are quiet for a little more, the original broadway cast singing away in the background as it plays through the car speaker from your phone, 'till the car comes to a stop outside of the cinema. "we're here," he murmurs, killing the engine once he makes sure his parking's perfect.

"oh my god, matt! we're here. what if i faint? what if i vomit? oh god, i won't get to see the movie if i faint or vomit, will i? oh no, uh, okay, i need, uh.. oh—"

"hey, hey, relax," matt says, gently, wanting you to chill out a little. he offers a sheepish little smile and he murmurs, "uh.. we can go get the themed popcorn buckets and you can throw up in there if you want to.. in style.." that makes you giggle and you nod, practically ripping off your seatbelt so that the two of you don't waste any more time inside the car. he has to quickly get out to join you, making sure that you don't run off on your own.

as the two of you walk, his fingers awkwardly twitch at his side as he wishes to hold your hand, but he's a little apprehensive to. though, he doesn't know why he's so apprehensive about it, the two of you are dating, holding hands is a simple thing. but.. he is.

"wicked's real popular," he murmurs, glancing around. "it's real amazing," you add in return. the two of you make your way inside the cinema together, and you glance at eachother for a moment. he smiles, you smile, and it sends a surge of warmth through both of you. leaning against his shoulder, you watch as he pays for the two tickets, and even more heat surges through you at the fact you're one hundred percent going to be seeing wicked now. matt likes how happy it makes you. it makes him almost as happy, he's sure.

and you notice this, after a little. there's a bit of a queue—wicked was so popular—and you end up interlacing your fingers with his own. it makes a heat flush to his cheeks and he offers a smile to you, shuffling closer to you and pressing by your side a little just to make sure you don't get too cold considering it's getting colder out.

"line's pretty long," he notes quietly, glancing up. you guys are near the front, so it's okay. "mmh, yeah, but we're almost in," you agree, swinging your interlaced hands as you stand beside eachother.

"popcorn buckets?"

"popcorn buckets."

you're a mess when you get out of there. literally, he's got stains on his hoodie from your tears, not that he minded all that much. he'd be a hypocrite otherwise, he's feeling a little teary eyed himself. thrusted against his chest are the various popcorn buckets that you'd bought, as you're currently trying to compose yourself and make sure your pink makeup doesn't run. you'd dressed up in full glinda gear, as best as you could, and he'd gone as elphaba. in your words, he'd given you total wicked witch of the west energy, in the best way.

he mumbles a soft, "you're okay," switching the popcorn buckets to one arm so he could gently rub your arm as the two of you made your way out. a soft smile settles on his lips, just watching you. everyday he's reminded in little moments why he loves you so much. this is definitely one of them. matt quietly leads you out of the screening room, giving smiles to the people working at the cinema, ones who are quiet heartwarmed by your reaction to the movie and how much it clearly meant to you.

"that was just.." matt sighs softly, shaking his head as heat flushes to his cheeks. he shifts his weight a little, gently tugging on you for you to stop. it's just outside of the screening, his eyes meeting yours. your eyes are glossy, gleaming beneath the pink and green lights illuminating you both. "perfect," you finish for him, words wavering a little as you speak. god, you've never enjoyed a movie more. definitely a top ten movie. maybe even for matt, too. he couldn't deny how good it was.

matt nods his head at your words, adding a quiet, "really perfect," you'd one hundred percent be watching the movie a gazillion times after, probably in cinemas, but also definitely on some illegal websites when you got back home. matt'd be joining you, totally. he may not have been a complete musical fan, but he'd get into it for you, definitely.

"i'm like.. a new person after that," you tell him, shuffling closer to him and leaning your head up against his chest. he places the buckets down on the ground beside you two and he tentatively wraps an arm around your middle to bring you up against his chest.

"me too.. might be a musical fan.." a laugh slips past his lips ³and in return you giggle too. a soft sigh escapes you afterwards, head tilting to the side a little. he blinks when you look up at him like that, and the heat floods his cheeks a little more. he's getting warm from all the attention, really. but you're looking up at him like he hung the stars and the moon, and it makes him feel so unbelievably special. his heart's pounding against his chest, literally.

"i.. wanna kiss you," you find yourself saying before you even realise, and matt practically splutters and stammers over his words in return. "oh, uh.. you do? oh," he swallows thickly, glancing down at the ground a moment before he meets your gaze again, nodding his head. he'd been thinking the same exact thing, since.. right now, your lips look like they're coated in pure sugar, all shiny and glossy.

"you can kiss me. i wanna.. wanna kiss you," he mumbles, slowly easing his hand upwards on your back, his lips parting.

you're the one who goes for it, bringing your lips to his in a gentle kiss. he brings you as close as possible with his hand, a dreamy sigh slipping past his lips against your own. you let your hands come up and cradle his jaw, both of your eyes shutting together as you take in the bliss that is the kiss you're sharing. when the two of you part, he's breathless, eyes gleaming in a similar way to yours. "you taste like candy," accurate, considering all the candy you'd been eating during the movie, but he loves it.

you feel a heat come to your face at that, and you glance at the floor sheepishly. "i do?"

matt nods, because yeah, you do. he sweeps his tongue over his bottom lip, tasting the sweetness that you'd left there in the kiss. he's incredibly intoxicated by you, how you taste, how you feel, just.. you. "yeah.." he really wants to do it again, but the realisation that you two had just kissed in public hits him and he ends up burying his head in your hair to try hide himself in some way. "oh my god, we just kissed, in public," you say in realisation.

he's got absolutely no clue where all of this confidence comes from, but he murmurs a breathy, "y'know what's not public?" that makes your eyebrows raise in interest, lashes fluttering a little bit. matt relishes in that expression on your face, just for a moment.

"what is?" you soon ask, brows furrowing now.

"my bedroom," matt wiggles his eyebrows instinctively, and despite your surprise at his forwardness, you laugh. a genuine, soft, laugh. god, you adore him. enough to the point you quickly run behind him as he practically drags you back to the car.

ִ ֹ ★ @deansbite i hope you and our 120+ kids are proud o'me for writin' consistently :3

ִ ֹ ★ @mattybsgroupie, @mattslolita, @stellasturns, @stevelacylovebot, @55sturn, @jetaimevous, @phone4pills, @aesthetixhoe, @venusiers, @chrissdollie, @stvrnmc, @sarosfilms, @sarosfilms, @funkycoloured, @v3nusasgirl, @beridollie, @pr3ttyf4wn, @sincerebabydoll, @cayleeuhithinknott, @j2ss7, @sweetrelieef, @l3sbiancvnt, @beausling, @lovesickgrlsrh0t , @cupiidk1lls, @sofiassaturn ִ ꒱

[apollos-boyfriend]

every time i remember mianite’s female cast i lose it a little because it’s just. comedic how bad it was.

because okay. we have three (count them! three!) female characters introduced in season one. one of them is one of our main protagonists. cool! the other two will serve the same narrative purpose as a fridged wife for the majority of the story. only one of them will actually die but we will never see the other one again. 2/3 women lost

and then we get to season two, and suddenly a brand new world of seven (7!!!!) named female characters get introduced to us. two of them are kids, one of which is never seen and the other of which almost gets genocided (long story) and we don’t actually know if she lived or not. three of which are dead before the story starts (one technically is never stated to be dead but we never see her so it’s largely presumed). one of the three is a genuine fridged wife. of the two remaining, only one survives. 6/7 dead/never seen characters, 5/7 if you want to be generous. overall that’s an 80% - 70% loss rate. like i don’t think i’ve ever seen anyone do it worse man, great job

[ofmdrecaps]

11/25-26/2024 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR: Happy Belated Birthday Kristian!; Taika Waititi; Rachel House & David Fane; Joel Fry; Samson Kayo; Samba Schutte; Vico Ortiz; Anapela Polata'ivao; Guz Khan; Nat Torres; Damien Gerard; Fan Spotlight; Our Flag Means Fanfiction; Never Left Podcast; OFMD Spin the Bottle; Love Notes;

Also delayed due to Tumblr Blip, sorry all! I have some other great news though! The absolute sweetheart @lowrahh has volunteered to join my team to help get Alt Text added to the recaps! She's on the opposite side of the world so we may have some time syncing differences, but she's been helping me the last few days and it's been amazing! Thank you so much @lowrahh! Alrighty, on to the recap!

== Happy (Belated) Birthday Kristian! ==

Happy belated birthday to our dear Wee John-- Kristian Nairn! (11/25/2024) And guess what, he's on Bluesky now!

Source: Kristian Nairn's Instagram

Also, coming soon, is a new track by Kristian and MikeT! - Echo!

Source: Elliptical Sun Instagram

= Taika Waititi =

More interviews with Taika about Interior Chinatown! Silly things like "if you had an entrance song, what would it be?"

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Nicki Sun (@nickisun)

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A post shared by GOLD HOUSE (@goldhouseco)

Source: Interior Chinatown Hulu

= Rachel House & David Fane =

Rachel House, our Mary Reed, and our beloved Fang, David Fane were out at the Moana 2 Premiere in Australia! Moana 2 comes out in the US the 27th! Check it out if you can!

Source: ABC Pacific

Just some quick pics of our cast <3

Source: For Your Ref Pod

And David just being adorable.

Source: Awhimai Frasier Instagram

Source: Pere Yonce Instagram

And some silly interview questions at the premiere!

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A post shared by FLAVA (@flavaradio)

Source: Flavaradio

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A post shared by K-Zone (@kzonemag)

Source: Kzonemag

= Joel Fry =

Our dear Frenchie is joining Ncuti Gatwa in the Doctor Who Christmas Special this year!

Source: Adopt Our Crew Bsky

= Samson Kayo =

Samson is going to be in the new Voltron cast along with several other amazing stars!

Source: Amazon MGM Studios and AdoptOurCrew Bsky. and Samson's instagram

= Vico Ortiz =

Our ever busy Jim Jimenez, Vico Ortiz is joining "Reckless Spirits", a short comedy film! There's a crowdfunding effort for getting it going! Any gifts made today through EOD on Thursday, November 28 will be DOUBLED by a match (up to $7,500). Wanna learn more or support it? Check out: https://bit.ly/reckless-giving

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A post shared by vee hua 華婷婷 [fka vivian] (@hellomynameisvee)

Source: Hello My Name is Vee's IG

Some love from a fan of one of Vico's voice acting works!

Source: Vico's Bsky

I believe this has been share before but Vico is out sharing things they've been tagged in so let's post it again! The audio version of Blood City Rollers by V.P. Anderson, Tatiana Hill, and featuring voicework by Vico! Check it out here!

Source: Vico's Bsky

= Samba Schutte =

One of the short films Samba starred in - Best Life - has been nominated for the LA Independent Film Channel Festival for 2024!

Source: Valerie and Chaney IG

= Anapela Polataivao =

In case you haven't cried today, here's Rachel House, sending love to Auntie! (Anapela Polata'ivao)

In other Tinā news, it'll be heading to the 2025 Palm Springs International Film Festival in the World Cinema Now section at select locations between Jan 4-10! To get tickets, visit the Palm Springs Site!

Source: Tinā the Film Instagram

= Guz Khan =

Guz is sending out some love to these bakers!

Source: Guz Khans IG stories

And here's Guz showing off in his sweet ride.

Source: Guz Khan's Threads

= Nat Torres =

Nat Torres, writer extraordinaire, always bringing a smile to our faces <3

Source: Nat's Instagram

= Damien Gerard =

As always, our Father Teach, aka Damien Gerard, one of the coolest cat dads on the web, loves to keep us busy with cat content!

== Fan Spotlight ==

= Our Flag Means Fanfiction =

New mini-episode of Our Flag Means Fanfiction is up! This time covering The "HighSchool Jukebox" Fics by @oatmilktruther! Read by BabyKraken! Check it out here!

Source: Our Flag Means Fanfiction Spotify.

= Never Left Podcast =

A new episode of Never Left is out on your favorite Podcast Platforms! This part 2 of the Flags set-- you can check it out on their linktr.ee!

Source: Never Left Podcast Instagram

= Seven_Sugars Spin the Bottle =

For those of you on Bluesky and Twitter, you may have seen this very fun post by Ashley (aka Seven_Sugars). It's a gif of our cast and a spinning bottle! You just screenshot the gif and it tells you who you get! (I got Lucius which is 100% awesome by me, call me Pete because I love that man). Wanna try it out? Visit Ashley's Bsky!

Source: Seven Sugars Bsky

== Love Notes ==

Hey lovelies! There's definitely been some reminders lately that this time of year isn't the best time for everyone. Remember to be kind to yourself and don't beat yourself up too much ok? Sometimes you do everything right. Sometimes you do your best, you bust your ass, and then shit goes horribly wrong the last second. Whether it's a draft on something fan related, or getting to work on time, or preparing a candid talk with someone or being careful driving on ice, and someone else hitting you from behind. Whatever it is-- life sometimes just does not cooperate with your expectations.

To top it off, that can be very hard if you've already been dealing with so much. It really can. It can seem like.. NOTHING goes right, and like everything is frustrating, and when your cup is already full of nonsense it just starts overflowing.

You know what the good news is? Your cup will slowly drain over time the kinder you are to yourself. Rest helps it drain, love helps it drain, comfort helps it drain so you can have more room for the next thing that happens. Right now it feels like too much because your body and your mind need a break, and you deserve a break. Winter time is normally meant for human beings and animals to hibernate! To recover with the seasons! But now we work all the time, and it can burn us out real fast. Take care of yourselves, take breaks, and if shit goes wrong, keep taking breaks, if you can, until it doesn't feel so hard anymore <3 I hope you all rest this week and have some self-care time off if you have it-- and if you don't, please be safe out there. Thinking of you.

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A post shared by Katie Abey 🌈 (@katieabey)

[marauder-misprint]

Hii!! I just wanna say, ur writing is genuinely AMAZING. Like, actually tear inducing, feet-kicking, giggling-in-bed kind of amazing. This is my first ever request so bear with me 😔: for your 200 followers celebration (congrats by the way), I was wondering if you could do the prompt 10: “Too good for you? Don’t be ridiculous—they don’t deserve you.” Where reader is in a kinda toxic relationship and Remus, her bestie makes her realize this while also realizing her feelings for him?? Idk if this makes sense I’m sryyy 😭. Totally fine if u don’t feel comfortable doing it, or are to busy! Ignore my ineligible ranting, I for ur I hope ur doing well! Have a good rest of ur day/night!! :)

- 🌅

Thank you!!! This was so much fun to write ♡ Hope you enjoy it

Fireside Conversations

Remus Lupin x fem!Gryffindor!reader

2k words

cw: fluff, toxic relationship

The Gryffindor Common Room was quieter than usual. Which is why everyone there heard your disgruntled groan followed by you basically yelling, “Would you just listen!” as the portrait opened and closed. Peter was shaking his head as he approached the rest of the Marauders where they gathered on the couches by the fire. 

“They are fighting again,” he says as he sits down next to James. He didn’t need to say who. They knew. 

“That’s, what, third time this week?” James asks.

“At least,” Peter responds.

Remus stands up, looking at the portrait hole concerned.

“Moony, don’t,” Sirius says with a warning tone. “She doesn’t want us meddling, remember?”

“I’m not going to meddle,” he says unconvincingly. He wasn’t planning on meddling, rather eavesdropping, which in his defense, you never said he couldn’t do. He found it was easier to comfort you when he knew exactly what the bastard you called your boyfriend did this time. That was why he was going to listen… and to step in or meddle if things got out of hand. 

Remus walks over to the portrait and cracks it open the tiniest bit. He cast a muffling charm behind him so that your voice wouldn’t carry too far into the common room and then hoped you and your boyfriend would be oblivious to the ever-so-slightly open portrait.

“You need to stay away from them,” Remus hears your boyfriend tell you. “They’re using you to get into your pants.”

You scoff. “You’re being ridiculous! I’ve been friends with them since first year, and that’s all we are! We’re friends. Totally platonic. It’s you I like and that’s all that matters!”

“I know you like me. It’s them I don’t trust. So you need to stay away from them.”

“But I trust them. Isn’t that enough?”

“No, it’s really not. I think you’re blinded by them being in Gryffindor with you. You can’t trust everyone in your house, darling.”

“But they’ve earned it.”

“Listen, listen, I’m just worried for you. You spend so much time with them that it feels like you’re putting space between us. I think they’re trying to break us up.”

“They wouldn’t!” you protest. “And even if they were, I wouldn’t let that happen.” 

“Baby, just listen to me, okay? I wouldn’t steer you wrong, would I?”

You sigh and say in a mumble, “No, you wouldn’t.”

Remus lets the painting close quietly and he returns to the couches looking more grumpy than usual. 

“What’s birdbrain up to now?” Sirius asks. 

“Apparently the four of us are trying to seduce her.”

The three boys burst out laughing, a tiny snippet of the rambunctious noise that usually filled the common room. The grumpy look did not leave Remus’ face. It remains as you enter the common room, still looking upset and rubbing your eyes. You give the boys the briefest of glances before looking away and beelining it to the girls’ dorms. 

“Of course he made her cry,” Remus scowls. 

---

He loves me. I love him. He loves me. I love him. 

You kept repeating that in your head. Your boyfriend just cared for you, that’s all. He just cared so, so much. Almost too much. Was that something to fault him over? Goodness, you didn’t want to.

He loves me. I love him. 

Maybe if you said it enough, it would soothe your uneasiness. You’re laying in bed. Sleep was refusing to take you so you toss and turn, trying to make the least amount of noise with your rustling sheets. You really didn’t want to wake Lily or Marlene or Mary and have to have a heart-to-heart about why you can’t sleep. 

He loves me. I love him. 

Eventually, enough is enough. You climb out of bed, grab your robe and go to the common room. You almost laugh when you see Remus already sitting by the fire. From the way he’s sitting, he most definitely has a book in his lap. You stand quietly next to an armchair near him.

“Mind if I join you?” you ask softly. 

He jumps slightly but smiles as soon as he recognizes your voice and looks up. 

“Please,” he breathes, gesturing to the chair you’re standing by. “Couldn’t sleep?”

You nod as you tuck your legs underneath you.

“What’s eating your mind, love?”

“Nothing. Just couldn’t sleep.”

“Don’t lie to me.” His voice was so knowing yet gentle. And he always could tell when you lied and he refused to tell you what your tell was. 

You sigh. “Can you love someone too much?”

Remus doesn’t respond right away; he doesn’t know how to. Did you love your boyfriend too much? Did he love you too much? Was it a good thing or a bad thing to love too much? 

You look at the fire, waiting for Remus to answer. You don’t mind that he isn’t answering right away. You like that he’s thinking about it, choosing his words carefully. It was one of the things you loved about him.

“I… I don’t think you can love the right person too much. Your love won’t be too much or too little when it’s right.”

When you look at Remus, he’s already looking at you with so much concern and love in his eyes. You rest your head on your hands.

“When did you get to be so wise, Lupin?”

He shrugs. “One of the perks of being an old man, I guess.”

You sigh. You think Remus looks very cozy in his sweater and pyjama bottoms. There was something about him that always seemed cozy and comfortable. Being with him was one of the places you felt most at ease. 

You need to stay away from them. 

Your boyfriend’s words echo in your mind. It makes you want to cry. You want him to be the right person, but you couldn’t stay away from the Marauders, most of all Remus. He was your best friend. What if your boyfriend was the right person for you but you weren’t his?

“I… I don’t think I’m enough for him,” you mumble. “He’s too good for me.”

Remus stares at you dumbfounded. 

“Too good for you? Don’t be ridiculous — he doesn’t deserve you.”

“Remus-” you start to say. 

“No, darling, listen. I know it’s not my place and I’m not trying to meddle, but he’s not right for you. He told you you couldn’t cheer for your own house’s Quidditch when we played Ravenclaw and he’s not even on the team.”

“He just really wanted us to be cheering for the same team.”

“He told you to stay away from us.”

Your face hardens and your lips form a thin line.

“You heard that?”

He nods and says, “Your boyfriend shouldn’t be so insecure in your relationship. He should trust you to be around other people, around your friends. Especially around your friends who you’ve known for years.”

“I know,” you sigh. “But-”

Remus cuts you off again. “No buts, darling. Have you ever given him a reason to doubt your feelings for him?”

“No.”

“You give him all your love and that’s how he responds? You don’t deserve that kind of treatment. We’re not dumb, we know how much you’ve been fighting. If he can’t see how lovely, strong, loyal, smart, perfect you are, how devoted you can be when you care for someone, that’s on him. It’s on him for not trusting you, not seeing how you are more than capable of handling yourself and able to come back to the ones who care for you most.”

You close your eyes. Tears are building and you really don’t want them to fall. You know if you start crying, you won’t be able to stop. Something about Remus being right struck a nerve. You should be enough for your boyfriend. If Remus was able to see all of this in you, why couldn’t he? 

You feel a hand on the side of your face. You open your eyes to Remus crouching in front of you, one hand holding your face and the other placed next to your leg, helping him maintain his balance. 

“I know you said not to meddle, but that’s truly what I think, sweetheart. I think that relationship isn’t worth the arguing. I think it’s run its course.”

You feel the tears beginning to fall as you nod. “I-I, I think so too.”

“Oh, darling,” he coos as he pulled you into a hug.

You let the tears fall more freely as Remus holds you tight to his chest. He doesn’t shush you. He just holds you, softly rubbing your back. You could always be vulnerable with him. He understood in a way that you felt no one else did. He never judged you. He was your safe place. 

“Rem?” you ask, looking up at him.

“Mhmm?”

“Will you be there when I end things?”

“You want me there?”

You nod. “I won’t back down if you’re there.”

“Then I’ll be there.”

---

He was there for you. He was there for you when you broke up with your boyfriend. He was there for you when he tried to convince you that breaking up was a mistake. Remus was there for you when you broke down crying later. He never left your side. And you liked it. You had your own traveling safe place in Remus. 

With each passing day, being without your now-ex was easier. Being with Remus was easy. 

But you weren’t with Remus. The more you considered it, the more you wished you were. He already treated you better than your ex did. He never made you feel like you were too much or not enough. You knew he trusted you more than life itself. You didn’t dare say anything though. What if you ruined the friendship? What if you said something and lost your four best friends in one swoop? 

It really hits you one night, a few weeks after the breakup. Today had been nothing special. Just classes and studying in the library with Remus. But it had felt so special and every time your hands accidentally touched, you swear you felt fireworks. 

I love him. … Does he love me?

Why did you always think about things when you were in bed? Once again, you’re tossing and turning. You groan quietly as you get up. You know you won’t get sleep. 

This time, you do laugh when you see Remus already in the common room, sitting by the fire with a book as usual.

“Do you ever sleep?” you ask with a laugh as you join him on the couch.

You rest your head on his shoulder and look at the pages of his book.

“Usually during History of Magic and from three to seven.”

You giggle and Remus turns his head to look at you, a soft smile playing on his lips. 

“What’s on your mind tonight, sweetheart?”

You don’t respond right away, the worry of ruining a perfectly good friendship festering inside of you. 

“Do you fancy anyone?” you ask quietly.

His eyes go wide and he chuckles awkwardly. He looks away. 

Oh, he so does.

“Erm, yeah. I do…”

There’s a beat of silence. 

“Do you think she’s the one? The right one, I mean.”

“I’d like to think so. Only been in love with her since third year.”

“How do you know?”

“She’s my safe place. More than James, more than Sirius, more than Peter. She’s the loveliest person I know. She’s brilliant. Beautiful. Loyal. Perfect.” He pauses. “She has her flaws but doesn’t everyone? I mean, I got my furry little problem.”

Without thinking, you say, “You’re my safe place.” 

He looks back at you, the softest look in his eyes.

“I am?” he whispers. 

“You are.”

“So we’re each other’s safe place, huh.”

She’s my safe place. 

The realization hits you. Your face heats as you stare into those warm brown eyes. 

“You think I’m beautiful?”

He hums in response. There’s a silent conversation happening between you as you maintain eye contact. You nod. He places his hand underneath your chin and lifts your face. He leans in slowly, giving you time to pull away in case he misunderstood you. You don’t. You lean in too, meeting his lips with your own. The fireworks you felt when your hands accidentally brushed paled in comparison to when he kissed you. The hands were barely a spark and this was a firework show's finale. 

Maybe Remus really was your right person. 

[notreallythatlost]

And then, as if it was drawn to you, you spotted an odd, small form creeping towards you on the floor. It was not humanoid but visibly alive although its breath was barely present.

okay, i‘m obsessed 😫😫

You stood up and brought him closer to your face. He was like a little, gruesome pet and you found it adorable in a way as your godly instincts to take care over weaklings awakened.

aww, what a cute little pet he is

There he stood in front of you – your Mairon. He chose a new form for himself this time, a little shorter, with curly brown hair and beautiful green eyes.

OH. MY. GOD. YES.

“I have nursed you when you were a… A shadow. How can you think I would ever be able to cast you away because of your shape or form?” You cupped his cheeks as his stubble scratched your hands.

cast him away? looking like that? NEVER.

“Mairon…” You gasped when his hands finally untied the corset of your gown and he tore it off of you like a wild animal in heat, pushing you down onto the floor.

“I am your servant and yours only. There is nothing holy to me except for you,” he confessed and let go of your wrists to squeeze your cheeks, which caused your hazy eyes to open and look deep into his.

🫦🫦

“Once we heal and take over this realm, I will defile you on every altar built for you,” Mairon promised you in a raspy voice, his eyes back to normal now but still foggy from his orgasm.

oh, you unholy boy (defile me too)

“If he comes back by any chance,” you chuckled sadly, “it will be me having to protect you from his wrath, my sweet Mairon,” you caressed his cheek and leaned in to place a gentle kiss upon his lips.

we don’t talk about the things melkor would do to him 😭

Instead of fixing your malice with his love, like Marion had once dreamed of, you both descended into the paths of sin and destruction disguised as the act of healing. Together, at least.

thank you again for this masterpiece 🤍

— HUMBLED (II)

PART ONE

PAIRING — Sauron x fem!Vala!Reader // Morgoth x fem!Vala!Reader

SUMMARY — Driven by guilt after abandoning him, you went back to the place where Mairon had been slain. You find out that he is still alive but in the weakest form and shape. You take him in to nurse him back to health in the solitude of your Mirkwood fortress where you are hiding from the Valar, disguised as an ordinary human.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — 👀 The Reader in this fic is a Vala (and Varda's sister but she remains undescribed as well), so she changes her appearance like Sauron does but I am not describing any of her forms in any details. The smut part is not with goo!Sauron although I'm sure some of your freaks would probably want that. 😂 I know that the fortress in Mirkwood was built by Sauron much later in canon but I wanted to use it in this fic, although I didn't use its name, so it doesn't have to be the exact same one anyway. Once again I want to thank @dinsbeskar & @olchr-1 💚 Special mention to the queen of Sauron fics @just-trying-to-fangirl-in-peace and her fanfic Remade where the iconic evil!Reader is nursing goo!Sauron back to health as well. 🥺

WARNINGS — Reader is evil (reshaped by Morgoth but not completely evil), mentions of domestic abuse (with Morgoth) & of Sauron and Reader being tortured by Morgoth, goo!Sauron, murder, SMUT, dom!Sauron (with sub undertones)

WORD COUNT — 3,830

🔞 THIS FIC IS 18+ 🔞

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

HUMBLED (II)

Perhaps it was embarrassing for a Vala to feel so enamoured with a Maia but you could not help it – Mairon was all you could think of after your departure.

And after finding out that he had been slain during his coronation after your departure, you could not help a pang of guilt filling what was left of your heart. You had abandoned him and left him all alone at the mercy of all those dark and rotten creatures your husband had created and lured. Of course your sweet Mairon would never handle them on his own, without your support.

You missed him, too – your devoted servant who had worshipped you like nobody else before. When you were being an object of his desires, it was as if you were no longer Varda’s rival because Mairon could make you feel like the most important goddess in the whole world.

Therefore, after many years of being tormented with guilt and yearning, you decided to go back North and inspect the fortress where he had been slain. You could easily trace the very floor where he had laid dead because a black stain remained there. And you tilted your head while examining the cracks between which his blood had to be streaming down.

Your instincts led you underground where you found yourself in a cold and damp cave filled with sinister, ominous presence. There was no doubt that whatever was left of your servant still lived there.

And then, as if it was drawn to you, you spotted an odd, small form creeping towards you on the floor. It was not humanoid but visibly alive although its breath was barely present. The way it moved caused your heart to clench inside your chest out of pity. When it found itself by your feet, it wailed pathetically and whined.

You had a new form now as you were disguising yourself as a young woman of the human kind but his spirit would recognise Mother of Flames everywhere and in every form. Just like yours would always recognise him.

“My poor, sweet Mairon…” You crouched down to touch the malicious substance gently. “I am so sorry for abandoning you,” you whispered as you opened your hands and watched him struggle to slide onto them. “Just a little, my darling, you can do it. And once you’re with me, I will take care of you,” you promised. “I will nurse you back to health, my Mairon,” you encouraged him as he eventually managed to crawl up to lay in your hands. He sighed out of exhaustion and you chuckled softly.

You stood up and brought him closer to your face. He was like a little, gruesome pet and you found it adorable in a way as your godly instincts to take care over weaklings awakened.

“I shall take you away from here, my sweet spirit. Rest now, darling, you are safe now,” you cooed to him.

And inside your hands you took him safely back to the place where you had been living in hiding these days – in the southwest of Mirkwood where Hill of Sorcery was and you spent your days there alone in a fortress long-abandoned, away from everyone, trying not to attract any attention.

Having Mairon with you in his odd shape was merely counting as a companion although you were speaking to him all the time and he would answer with squeals, whines or sighs. You prepared him a cosy spot near the fireplace, which was always lit up due to your control over that destructive element.

As a fallen Vala, you had no power anymore to create life – not in the same, pure way as the others at least. Therefore, you did not want to risk bringing him back to life with your will because it could end up badly. You’d rather the process of his healing take centuries than to bring him back twisted and deformed in any way.

You felt bad for not being able to help him more, so you devoted your days to finding him wild animals to feed on and sometimes you would allow him to feed off of your own godly energy to gain strength as you would caress his foul form and coo to him.

As time passed, slowly but progressively, his shape was growing in size and getting more and more humanoid. He was even more gruesome now because he no longer resembled a pet but became a dark shadow that was creeping around the fortress as he kept following you around obediently.

Oftentimes, he would exhaust his weak form by doing so and you would turn around with a soft sigh and a smile at the sight of him breathing heavily on the floor.

“My sweet, Mairon, you should rest,” you crouched down to help him move back to his usual spot by the fireplace. “I am not going anywhere, do not worry, my dear. I shall never abandon you ever again, you have my word,” you caressed him.

He reached out his limb towards you and you smiled lovingly at the gesture.

“You seem to be quite ready, don’t you think, my dear? Should I fetch you a bigger meal?” You asked him.

You were excited to finally bring him back fully but on the other hand you had grown so used to this shadow following you around for the past few centuries that you were not sure if real, bratty Mairon was someone you wanted to handle again. However, you did not want him to suffer anymore.

The dark shape nodded, eagerly and you leaned in to place some sort of a kiss upon where his forehead would be.

“Be patient, dear. Soon, you will be back with me. And now, regain your strength,” you assured him and watched him fall asleep.

When he did so, you left the fortress and hunted for a human or an Elf who would walk around unguarded. Not that you would not handle someone of this sort – you were a goddess, after all. You simply did not want any witnesses. The woods were dark and mysterious, therefore one disappearance would not alarm anyone but to have a rumour going around that there was some dark spirit living amongst the humans and the Elves of Mirkwood – that you did not want.

Therefore, using your craft of deception and luring, you teased a young lumberjack into your fortress. He was in a trance but once you locked him inside the same chambers where Mairon’s shadow laid, he screamed out loud with terror. However, he was too far away from the nearest village for anyone to hear him.

You smirked to yourself as you paced around impatiently, waiting for Mairon to deal with his prey. The sounds coming out of the room were concerning but you knew that an act of rebirth required lots of dirty work.

Finally, the doors creaked as someone opened them slowly and you turned your head around rapidly.

There he stood in front of you – your Mairon. He chose a new form for himself this time, a little shorter, with curly brown hair and beautiful green eyes. He was in a human shape but you assumed he was not strong enough yet to create a form as pure as Elven. In fact, he looked like a commoner – him wearing his victim’s clothes was not helping the impression.

He was smiling proudly and taking deep breaths in as you watched him with widened eyes.

“You… You look different,” you pointed out, taken aback.

“So do you,” he answered and you cracked a smile at the sound of his new voice. What a privilege it seemed to be now to be able to hear his voice. “My Lady,” he added and bowed his head slightly. “I am yet too weak to take more noble form but in this one we both look the same. I would never dare to take a form higher than yours. I know you need your disguise but so do I. I hope you do not mind this choice.”

“Not at all,” you shook your head and approached him. “I have nursed you when you were a… A shadow. How can you think I would ever be able to cast you away because of your shape or form?” You cupped his cheeks as his stubble scratched your hands.

Short silence occurred, in which you two were staring at each other intensely. You were the one to make the first move as you pulled his face towards yours to plant dozens of tiny kisses all over his face while your hands brushed his curls.

Filled with joy to be in your arms and to be greeted by you this way, he wrapped his new, strong arms around you and made an attempt to give back at least half of those hasty and desperate kisses.

“My Lady, my Queen,” he whispered between them, “my saviour, my Goddess.”

His kisses grew more hungry and passionate as his lips moved down to your neck, kissing it eagerly and sucking on the sensitive skin. His hands, shaky from anticipation, worked on the lacing of your gown. He was too desperate to ask if he could stain you with his touch but you would never reject him.

Whatever was between you two now had differed greatly from whatever you two had back in the day. After all those centuries of taking care of him in his weakest state while you two were hiding away from the outside world, you felt that the connection between you two was as strong as ever. Perhaps even stronger than the one you had once had with Melkor.

“Mairon…” You gasped when his hands finally untied the corset of your gown and he tore it off of you like a wild animal in heat, pushing you down onto the floor.

This time it was you underneath him, at the mercy of his will and his desire. And you should mind that but you did not – in fact, you craved it. It had been ages since he had a body and now his flesh was filled with uncontrollable desires. You wanted to be the only subject of them as you would never allow him to fulfil them with anyone else.

“You are mine,” you reminded him when he grabbed your wrists and crossed them above your head, pinning you down.

He looked deep into your eyes as his pupils widened and nearly overtook the beautiful green colour completely. He growled and leaned in to give you yet another hungry kiss and you wrapped your thighs around his waist, pulling him closer. You could feel his erection already because the clothes he had taken from the commoner were thin and loosely put on.

“You belong to me,” you whined between one hungry kiss and another while he took both of your wrists into one of his hands now to be able to remove his clothes with the other. He was chaotic while doing so, desperate to get rid of anything between your bodies. “Tell me, Mairon. Do you serve me still?” You asked.

There was a new energy about him in this form. He was still only a Maia but you were a very weakened Vala and he was no longer a pathetic spirit you had remembered. He reminded you of your husband in a way that you were now anxious about.

“I am yours,” he breathed out and held onto your hip with his free hand as he buried himself inside of you and groaned out of pleasure. You shivered as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. Your hips bucked up as your walls throbbed around his length, welcoming him in by greedily sucking him in deeper. “I am your servant and yours only. There is nothing holy to me except for you,” he confessed and let go of your wrists to squeeze your cheeks, which caused your hazy eyes to open and look deep into his.

They were no longer green; not even black. He was too driven by desire to be able to control his form and his eyes were terrifying and animalistic as if he was a serpent and not a human. Yet, the sight only made you throb around him some more.

“In your name I shall heal this realm and you will have your temple like I have promised,” he hissed out. “But if you ever abandon me again, I shall give up on you, too. Like I have given up on all the other gods,” he threatened and perhaps he had earned a reprimand for that but you couldn’t help a moan at his words as your hips bucked once more and he began to thrust into you.

His rhythm was far from steady; it was chaotic and desperate, rough and fast. He groaned and buried his face in the crook of your neck, assaulting your skin with kisses and bites as his big and strong hands held onto your hips to be able to fuck you even deeper.

You tangled your fingers in his brown curls and pulled on them, which only spurred him on and with your other hand you scratched the flexed muscles of his back. Your moans and whines filled the whole fortress and lucky were the habitants of the near villages to live far away enough to not be able to hear you.

Like two desperate animals with your clothes scattered around and torn, fucking on the floor. There was nothing holy about you two at that moment and nothing noble either. Even your forms were human, therefore you had to resemble two primal and primitive creatures instead of the regal and holy spirits that you had originally been.

“I will never abandon you again, sweet Mairon. Have I not promised you already?” You whispered. “Whatever path you want to take, I shall take with you. Reunite all the dark creatures of this realm for you again, command your armies, I shall do it. Stay here forever and get lost in each other’s embrace for the whole eternity instead? I shall do it, too,” you confessed.

Your devotion – the loyalty of the one he had been worshipping ever since his creation – was enough to make him spill himself inside of you with a groan of pleasure and relief after such a long time of yearning. He moved up to look at your face and he caressed your sweaty cheeks while he kept thrusting in and out of you to make you reach your peak, too.

“Once we heal and take over this realm, I will defile you on every altar built for you,” Mairon promised you in a raspy voice, his eyes back to normal now but still foggy from his orgasm. “There will be no more Valar for our subjects, there will be only you. The only goddess. Any form of worship of the other Valar will be considered blasphemy,” he whispered sweetly and you moaned, feeling the muscles of your abdomen tightening as your walls clenched hard around him but he kept on fucking you. In fact, he picked up his pace. “Such a goddess you are and look at you, so humbled underneath me. How humiliating it must be for you, my Queen,” he teased, cruelly and instead of getting angry or ashamed, you finally came all around his cock, shivering and moaning as he watched in awe with a smirk, fucking you throughout your orgasm.

He was slowing down alongside your breath going back to normal and his rough human hands were caressing your cheeks now, brushing out the hair strands away from your sweaty face. 

“You forget yourself,” you breathed out eventually.

“You liked it,” Mairon pointed out. “And I shall do everything to please my Queen,” he chuckled with a sparkle dancing in his eye. “I bet you would like to do it again, my Lady.”

“I do,” you grinned but he shook his head as he laughed.

“Work before play,” he leaned in to place a kiss upon your forehead. “And we have a lot of work to do,” he pointed out and moved away as you whined at the sudden emptiness.

“What are you talking about? You have just regained your form back,” you sat up and tilted your head at him.

“I have had centuries to come up with a scheme and I do not wish to waste more time,” Mairon told you, gathering the scattered clothes from the floor to put them back on.

You sighed and rolled your eyes before laying back on the ground.

“What is it, my Lady?” He furrowed his brows at you.

“Nothing, my sweet,” you chuckled. “You’re back at it, are you not? You cannot ever just let it happen or have fun. You must always work and be a perfectionist about it.”

“I might have a new form and a new will but some things never change,” he answered.

“I wonder sometimes why the Valar have not found me yet,” you sat up again to look at him and he froze at the mention of the other gods. “I mean, they are not searching for me hard enough because I am not that well disguised. Yet, they have not come for me yet and I know that in their eyes I deserve a punishment.”

“Do you have any theories about it, my Queen?” Mairon asked, curiously.

“You are my punishment, I reckon,” you told him. “I am humbled to be enamoured with a servant and I have to endure your annoying ways,” you added but with a playful smile that signalled your affection.

Mairon smirked nervously. He had once fantasised about something similar when his heart had still been pure and he had been Aulë’s disciple in Valinor. In what a twisted way his dream turned out to be real. He pitied you at that moment.

He crouched down next to you and caressed your cheek gently before leaning in to place a kiss on the top of your head. 

“I wish to perfect myself as much as it is allowed for me to but I will never be your equal, which I am aware of and it will forever be my biggest regret,” he confessed. “If only I could… All I want is to be worthy of you like he was. My master.”

You flinched at the mention of your husband. Melkor was immortal like you were, therefore he was not dead but locked away instead. You were still his wife because of that and you would forever remain in the eyes of many but at that moment, you would not mind to break the tradition and become Mairon’s bride. Even if it would be considered a great humiliation.

“I wonder what he thinks of us,” you mumbled out. “But I care not,” you looked up to meet Mairon’s concerned gaze.

“Even if he comes back by any chance, I shall not allow him to hurt you or take you away from me. No matter what it takes,” he promised with all seriousness and you batted your eyelashes to dry out your fresh tears.

“If he comes back by any chance,” you chuckled sadly, “it will be me having to protect you from his wrath, my sweet Mairon,” you caressed his cheek and leaned in to place a gentle kiss upon his lips.

You would never leave his side and you would always watch over him, take care of him and nurse him back to health whenever he would need it again. 

He was your lesson in humility but you were a very eager student.

You were sitting by the fire amongst all those poor villagers who had lost their homes. Mairon had his arm wrapped around you as you clinged to his chest as if you were cold, pretending to shiver slightly. The old man named Diarmid who had taken you both alongside with him squinted his eyes at the two of you and decided to join you by sitting next to you after a while of hesitation.

You moved slightly to make more space for him and he smiled.

“Halbrand and Brynn,” he addressed you by your new and fake human names. “How much have you lost there if I might ask?” He asked but there was no rudeness about it, only genuine concern.

“Everything,” you answered, refusing to look him in the eye as you watched the flames dance. It was the very element you had full control of but now you just allowed it to burn naturally as you smiled at the memory of casting the very first fire that had ever existed in Arda. Mairon leaned in to kiss your temple and he was the one to look at the old man.

“This might be a second chance for us,” he said. “I like to think of it as such. We are free now from the burdens of the past. As if we were new people.”

“And that is how you should be perceiving it,” Diarmid pointed out as he nodded. You smirked a little because he was so naive and so oblivious to your Mairon’s malice.

“My husband’s always been the more positive one,” you mumbled out. “I like to perceive things the way they are,” you added.

“That is certainly a useful quality,” the old man smiled at you. “But sometimes we all need a little hope and a little white lie here and there. Such wisdom comes with age that the true purpose of the fairytales is not to entertain the children but to bring hope to grown men and women for the reality of life can get too gloomy to bear faith for a better tomorrow. Yet, we must keep going. No matter what.”

You looked up at that moment and locked your gaze with his as your heart skipped a beat. The man kept smiling at you softly and you would never tell Mairon about it but he was no ordinary human. He was a spirit sent to you – he was one of the Maiar with a task given to him from the Valar.

They knew about you and Mairon and they wished for you both to redeem yourselves and choose goodness this time. Indeed, it made your heart clench deep inside of your chest as you remembered them all, especially your sister – the one you had betrayed the most.

But it was too late for you and too late for Mairon. Melkor’s corruption and darkness were reaching deeper within your souls than the Valar’s lightness ever would. You two were the most exquisite subjects of the Dark Lord’s torment.

Instead of fixing your malice with his love, like Marion had once dreamed of, you both descended into the paths of sin and destruction disguised as the act of healing. Together, at least.

MASTERLIST

[sophfandoms53]

ONE WHOLE ROUND OF OTEV????

OH THESE PEOPLE ARE STUPID STUPID

[peak-dumbass]

*emerges from the fog* have you heard of my boy called sideswipe he suffers from little bitch syndrome and unresolved trauma he refuses to talk about

I also think he’s aroace—*gets shot*

[dbphantom]

Hate having adhd went to go work on my fallout modpack, got distracted while going to disable the steam overlay, ended up in the points shop, went to go edit my profile, decided to change my pfp, found a buried folder I forgot existed, found some old Veneer art I forgot existed, spent 45 minutes looking at all the old photos, STILL HAVE NOT TOGGLED ONE SIMPLE OPTION THAT SHOULD'VE TAKEN 30 SECONDS AT MOST

[kipperlillyforpresident]

i do think it's really funny how a majority of the fandom is developing/headcanoning like. a post-canon kipperlilly storyline where she gets brought out of hell and/or becomes a demon. which i think is really awesome btw this is not judgemental. but it's the idea of like. forcefully bringing her BACK into the narrative. refusing to let her die.

whereas my cope of choice/basically just my own damn OC universe at this point is to otome isekai her. i do not trust the world of spyre to treat her right anymore. i fundamentally cannot envision a world where kipperlilly still has to interact with Fan Favorite Characters Jawbone and Kristen and Riz and Fig and Adaine and it goes well for anybody involved LOL.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

omgg lol [guy who won't stop going "more like scapeGOATED" voice] now hold! on!! lmao [same guy just saw encanto voice] Hold on!!!

[widevibratobitch]

my god. skinny people really just have like. No Idea huh just absolutely not a single clue lmao it's almost funny to watch fr but then id lie if i said i wouldn't fucking kill to be able to be that ignorant

[skitskatdacat63]

17,82

War AU x Second Love

Lmao Sam this is literally the plot to the Nandopoleon AU this exists in my head 😭😭

So Fernando is Napoleon, right? And Napoleon had two wives, right? Mark is his first love(i.e. Josephine), older than him, and who he is deeply in love with but has to divorce because Mark can't really provide anything(i.e. no political advantages, infertile, etc.) So Fernando needs to make a political marriage. And who does he marry! The young son of one of the most prominent monarchies in Europe: Lance, Archduke of Austria.

Lance is very resistant to this at first of course. All grumpy like, "Dad, why do you want me to marry the guy who just defeated us in four separate wars. He's literally beaten us since practically my birth, and now I have to marry him? Yuck." Both him and Fernando come into the marriage with bad expectations, Lance despising Fernando for all he represents and Fernando viewing Lance as just a means to an end. But Lance fits in to the kingdom very well and Fernando comes to adore him and pamper him all the time. And suddenly Lance to his father is all like, "the Emperor is great actually 🥰 I was so wrong 🥰"

Meanwhile Mark is just forced to the side, and has to watch while Fernando's love for him diminishes, and his love for Lance grows. They still talk a lot and spend time together, but Mark is constantly sniping at Fernando about his new "wife."

I think Lance would stick by Fernando's side during his exile and subsequent return. He grows to be more loyal to Fernando than to his own family and original kingdom. And even though Fernando originally just views him as a means to an end, he eventually lets Lance fight alongside when they are eventually drawn back into war. Maybe in this AU, he actually wins 😔

[infictionalwonderland]

I NEED PART TWO OF THE MARVEL CAST FLIRTING WITH Y/N L/N!

. . . MARVEL CAST FLIRTING WITH Y/N Y/L/N FOR 10 MINUTES STRAIGHT! (part2)

You cackled to yourself after sending the message into your groupchat, quickly returning to the video and beginning to play it again, occasional bursts of giggles slipping through your lips.

Resuming your place in the video—the first clip that began playing was actually from not that long ago at all. It was You, Kat Dennings, Elizabeth Olsen and Zendaya at Taylor Swifts Eras Tour (an experience you would genuinely never forget). Taylor was playing Lover and, in the clip, Kat had your face in one hand and the other wrapped around your waist, bringing you close to her body.

“Lover, can I go where you go—“ Kat sang with Taylor, singing all the lyrics to you and grinning at you, faces inches away from each other. “—Can we always be this close.” She punctuated this lyric with giving you an eskimo kiss.

You smiled sincerely at the memory.

The next clip began up, it was you and Chris Evans doing Playground Insults with BBC Radio 1: the two of you were sat opposite each other, knees touching, Chris was grinning goofily at you, giddy laughs escaping him as you tried to remain straight faced.

“—we’re here with Chris Evans and Y/N Y/L/N.” The presenters introduced.

“And we’re about to play Playground Insults . . Now Chris and Y/N are sat opposite each other,” the camera cut to you and Chris, him smiling largely and you looking away to contain your own, “the atmosphere is very tense.”

“We’ve done this quite a few times now but im thinking.. this is the biggest movie of the year, let’s make this the biggest playground insults we’ve ever done.”

“Yep.” Chris nodded, trying not to laugh.

“Chris, hun. . you’re ugly. Like, plain ugly.” You nodded seriously, immediately setting off as you feigned a pained wince to the words. “Everyone’s been talking about it. . just, you’re so atrocious to look at. Honestly, I almost feel arse over tits in horror when I saw you.”

Chris opened his mouth to say something but then faltered and pouted, “no matter how good of an actor I am, I could never even get those words out my mouth about you and make them sound genuine. Seriously.”

The third clip started—it was Chris Hemsworth on a carpet, a bold colourful question at the bottom said ‘WHO HAS THE MOST FANS?’. Chris immediately said, “Y/n.” In that deep Australian accent of his. “Not that I blame the people from choosing her to be the people’s queen, she is truly one of a kind. You’ll only ever meet one Y/n in your lifetime, cherish it. The fans have the right idea.”

It changed to Scarlett with the same colourful question at screen and at the same carpet event: “Oh, Yeah. Y/n, one hundred percent.” She chuckled huskily. “That woman has fans upon fans and seriously, I’m one of them. She is something else.” She grinned, winking at the camera.

After Scarlett, Paul Rudd came onto your screen in the very same clip. “Oh! The legend herself, Y/N Y/L/N.” Paul answered brightly, smiling. “The amount of fans she has is unbelievable—well, it’s definitely believable for someone like her, so, not really unbelievable..”

The forth clip began—it was you all playing Family Feud with Jimmy Kimmel, on his live show. Sebastian and RDJ were currently facing off; Jimmy posed the question “what, other than the sun, are some of the hottest things to exist?”

Sebastian got to the buzzer faster than Robert managed to and didn’t even falter or hesitate as he answered straight away, “Y/N Y/L/N.”

The audience immediately screamed laughed and shrieked in delight, RDJ just nodded his head in understanding and appreciation, clapping his hands. Chris Evans, Mark and Anthony on the other side all looked amused but ultimately accepting (Chris was nodding along almost subconsciously). You were on the other team, looking heavenward with a faint exasperated grin and Scarlet wrapped her arm around your waist, Chris Hemsworth smirking at you both.

The fifth clip started up: it was a behind the scenes shot from Endgame, the big final battle. You were currently in the middle of doing your own stunt, green screen behind you and harnesses strapped to you as you dangled at a halfway point in the air. Your arms and hands were positioned in such a way to show your character manipulating her powers—the position also very much enhanced your chest, with the added help of your superhero attire. You looked hot, even you could admit.

The camera mirthfully panned to some of the rest of the cast who all stood aside while you filmed your scene—said cast being Chris Evans, Tom Holland, Gwyneth Paltrow, RDJ, Elizabeth Olsen and Tessa Thompson. All of their eyes were fixated on you, Robert was the only one grinning in amusement (and awe) while all the others stared at you as though you hung the sun yourself.

“Boobies.” Lizzie giggled faintly, her eyes stuck. The rest of the cast watching dumbly nodded while the crew cracked up behind the cameras.

And if you screenshotted their dumbfounded faces looking ip at on screen you. . well that was your business.

The clip changed. It was now Karen Gillan being interviewed on some carpet event, looking genuinely breathtaking. The interviewer was asking, “—obviously, your friend and co-star Y/N Y/L/N has been in lots of iconic movies. . what is your favourite scene of hers in The Wolf of Wall Street?”

Karen paused with a cheeky little smile, giving the interviewer a a jokingly incredulous look. “Come on.” She simply said. “It’s a bloody no brainer, I’m certain it was Leonardo’s favourite scene too. . I hope it is anyway otherwise he’s a silly, silly man.”

At the same carpet event with the same interviewer, Chris Hemsworth was being interviewed—his wife, Elsa, on his arm and looking half ready to battle off any rude interviewers (queen).

“—what is your favourite scene of hers in Ocean’s 8?”

“All of them!” Elsa answered eagerly, grinning. “Her outfits really accentuated her personality and I enjoyed them very much so. Particularly her outfit for the gala. . the amount of accentuated personality, by gosh, it had me speechless.”

Chris turned her head, obviously trying not to laugh at his wife.

“Nunca he estado más celoso y agradecido por la ropa en mi vida.” Elsa hummed.

You blinked.

The clip changed to you, Sebastian, Lizzie, Paul, Jeremy and Jimmy all on his Tonight Show playing Musical Beers. The slightly unnerving music/beat played in the background while you all stalked around the circle, Paul and Jeremy already out—leaving you, Seb, Lizzie and Jimmy.

As you were all racing around the circular table, Lizzie very obviously swatted your ass and you were impressed with your own body as you watched that impact: the audience erupted into laughs and shrieks, Jimmy playfully covering his eyes as Seb smirked. You thought that would be the end of the clip, but no.

The very disco-esk tune briefly cut out and past time you thought that meant it stopped completely and you’d already reached for the red cup in front of you and chugged it’s contents, only to pause as the music began back up.

“Spit it back! Spit it back!”

You did just that—but when the music actually stopped and Seb was left standing in front of the cup with your (let’s not go there) in it, your mouth popped open in shock. Jeremy gladly backed away from the table in hysterics, Lizzie and Jimmy equally as amused.

“Oh my god, I am—“

Sebastian quickly downed the cup with. . those contents, not even looking all that perturbed.

“So sorry.” You finished, mouth agape.

You vaguely remembered a conversation you’d had with him after the show, sincerely and repeatedly apologising and he was just very, very amused with you. He didn’t seem to mind at all—what an odd man.

“It’s all good.” Sebastian chuckled lowly, wrapping the mortified looking past you in a one armed shoulder hug and squeezing you to him. Lizzie seemed to be trying to trade a very obvious eye message with you—the audience shrieked and screamed in the background.

Another clip began: its was you and Scarlett Johansson doing a trust fall thing, you thought (correctly).

“Scarlett I swear. .” You giggled, looking over your shoulder at the woman behind you—she grinned back at you amusedly, her eyes twinkling.

“Calm down.” She laughed herself. “I’ll catch you don’t worry, gorgeous.”

Still slightly overcome with nervous giggles, you turned and let out a breath as you shut your eyes before holding at your arms and falling back.

And catch you she definitely did—although her hands didn’t exactly land in a PG-13 area, you cackled as you watched her hands grope at your chest to pull you up. In the video, you were also wheezing as were the crew and Scarlett had a cheeky little smirk as she laughed.

When you were finally standing, she gave one last squeeze before finally letting go—on screen you was breathless with giggles.

“Always wanted to do that.” She shrugged simply with a large amused smile.

The next clip began—it was Zendaya and Tom Holland on LADBible, playing that how much do you agree or not game. The statement said was ‘Y/N Y/L/N is everyone‘s celebrity crush’.

Instantly, Tom and Zendaya moved their cups to strongly agree, both of them nodding in solid agreement with the statement: presently, you awed at your friends, ego very much boosted. Well. To be fair, all of this video was massively boosting your ego.

“I mean, come on.” Zendaya made a ‘duh’ face and shrugged her shoulders.

“It’s Y/N.” Tom smiled crookedly, adding onto her comment.

“I am so happy I get to now say that she’s one of my closest friends.” Zendaya beamed genuinely. “She’s—one of those people whose beauty isn’t just an external thing, she’s so lovely man.” She pouted, in awe of you.

Watching the video, you beamed back at her.

The clip changed: Mark Ruffalo was on the Graham Norton show, next to Nicki Minaj and an actor you couldn’t place.

“Who would you say your favourite co-star has ever been, Mark?” Graham inquired.

“I—i would probably have to go with Y/N—“ The crowd instantly erupted into cheers and yells and Nicki smiled next to him, stating that she loved you under the sound of cheering. Mark grinned back at her, mumbling ‘me too’.

“Yeah, she’s a hell of an actress, that one. So easy to work with. Funny as f—hell, she’s just—an extremely genuine and kind person, and she really brings the energy on set.” Mark grinned. “..she’s also the only free pass my wife has ever given me. Which I won’t be using! Because I don’t believe in cheating, it’s scummy! Even though she’s gorgeous—anyone would be lucky!” He had to rise to a shout at the end as the audience erupted.

Nicki giggled next to him, “me personally, I would use that pass.”

You gasped in laughter as you watched the screen, screen-recording it all so you could go back and watch it. Saving it to your folder titled PISSING MY PANTS HRLP

The clip changed yet again, showing a scene from the Winter Solider BTS. You and Sebastian were filming a scene where he had to shoot your character—you watched the ‘Winter Solider’ shoot your character multiple times making you go down with an agonised yell, crawling away from him.

As soon as CUT was yelled, Sebastian’s face dropped from his stone cold (wintery) expression and he raced to you, crouching next to you. He practically tugged you into his lap on the floor, holding you.

“Oh my fuck that—that just felt so real, Y/n. You know I would never hurt you right?” He asked, blinking repeatedly before a small smirk fell on his lips. “You’re way too pretty to injure doll. Can’t ruin your perfect face.”

On screen you huffed in mock anger, hiding an amused grin as you shoved at him—he still held you close to him though, so both of you fell backwards and burst into giggles.

You literally thought ‘I ship them’ as you watched the clip of Sebastian and yourself, forgetting that was you for a moment.

Another clip started up—another behind the scenes. It was you and Tom Hiddleston in Thor : Ragnarok. In the scene Loki was tied down to the chair and your character was meant to intimidate him—you watched yourself take out your character’s daggers and lean forward into his space. One leg leaned up on top of the arm of the chair, sliding one dagger just a hair above the skin of his neck while using the over the move his chin up to be angled to you as you mockingly smiled down at him.

You said your line as your character but Tom remained silent, mouth parted and eyes widened as he gazed up at you—speech failing him. (You knew that they actually decided to include this awestruck look in the movie—the amount of fucking edits you’d seen was unreal).

Eyebrows crinkling you nudged your knee into his chest and he snapped out of it, grabbing your knee in a gentle grip. “Sorry darling, words sometimes seem to fail me in your presence.” He muttered rather hoarsely, still staring up at you.

“I don’t fucking blame him.” Tessa Thompson murmured from behind you both, and the camera moved to show her staring at you in a similar awe.

Present time, you could barely hide your smirk. Literally the biggest ego boost. Of all time.

Again, the clip changed and it was now Natalie Portman looking gorgeous on a carpet event, being interviewed—“if you could have Jane explore another romance than Thor, who would it be and why?”

“Y/N!” Natalia enthused immediately. “Well—her character, but like. Both. Either. One for me, one for Jane. That—would be great. And why? Come on! She’s an absolutely beautiful woman, inside and out. She has this outward glow that you literally cannot and don’t want to look away from and that reflects so much in her personality—once you’ve interacted with her one time, you never want to stop. Ever. I’m not kidding.” She giggled.

Another clip started up quickly—a blooper of you and Chris Evans. In this scene, your characters were meant to kiss after an angsty, angry argument. You stormed into the frame, into the bedroom, completely in character—an angry expression on and ready to go at Steve.

Before you could even let out a single syllable to begin your lines, Chris immediately surged forward and took your face in his hands, kissing the living daylights out of you.

You both pulled back after a bit and you just started at him, questioningly (that kiss was probably one of your best ever, let it be known, Chris Evans was a fantastic kisser).

“I—I thought It’d be good for the scene. .” Chris trailed off bashfully, scratching the base of his neck, literally pulling the excuse out of his arse. In actuality, he hadn’t wanted to spare a moment of the scene where he could be kissing you, well, not doing so.

“Bull!” Scarlett exclaimed as she materialised in the doorway. “He just wanted to kiss you.” She told you, pointedly looking at the man.

“Yeah—i—“ He huffed a defeated sigh, pink-cheeked. “I’ve got nothing. She’s right.”

In hindsight, you thought to yourself, you should probably stop being so shocked when the fanbase starts shipping you with your costars.

The clip changed: now it was you, Elizabeth and Aaron on a carpet event together—all being interviewed at the same time.

“So, Y/n, how does it feel to be in a Maximoff twin sandwich right now?” The interviewer giggled happily, smiling.

Before you could open you’re mouth—“we’re really enjoying it.” Lizzie and Aaron replied at the same time.

The interview gaped and you simply rolled your eyes as the two smirked at either side of you, they’d been talking in sync ever since you’d first met them at the table reading.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t why?” Aaron grinned crookedly. “A beautiful, lovely woman in between us. Honestly, love, there’s not a thought in my head besides you.” He joked, throwing an arm over your shoulder.

“I completely support that.” Lizzie chirped in, “ever since I’ve met this gorgeous lady who i now acknowledge as my partner in everything—she’s taken up all of the room in my brain, and I couldn’t be happier.” She giggled, putting her arm around your waist.

In the middle of them both, with an arm over your shoulder and one around your waist—you simply sighed, sparing the giddy interviewer an exaggerated suffering expression.

Again, the clip switched—it was now another blooper of you in the Iron Man movie, the scene where you handed Tony’s arse to him in the boxing ring. Instead of acting as scripted, Gwen Paltrow got up from her seat and strode over to the boxing ring, stepping inside gracefully and planting one right on your lips.

Presently, you giggled as you thought back to this moment. Gwen was your impulsive queen. Your idol.

From the floor, RDJ squawked in shock, exclaiming about being cheated and betrayed and Gwen flung her stiletto off her foot at him without moving from your lips.

When she finally did, she simply smiled at you kindly, “you just looked so good that I couldn’t not kiss you, sweets.” She shrugged and you, on screen, laughed at her as you leaned back in to kiss her cheek.

(Unfortunately the scene was not included in the movie—but Gwen never wasted an opportunity to talk about it, and you, if the chance arose).

The clip moved onto another one—back to the Thor : Ragnarok movie, you and Heimdall were fighting together, however you missed a step in your stunt and ended up stumbling. Idris immediately caught you with a steady arm around your waist, full you to him so you could stabilise yourself.

You smiled up at him thankfully, squeezing his arm in gratitude (totally not because you’d just wanted to feel his bicep).

You watched as your on screen self get distracted again and Idris murmured to Tom who’d now appeared next to him, “I feel like it’s dishonourable how much I want her to fall so I can catch her again now.”

“Mate, trust me,” Tom laughed, “I completely understand. But she doesn’t need the rescuing.”

“That she does not.” Both men smiled fondly as they watched you.

Presently, you were actively refusing to blush.

A different clip started up—Florence Pugh was being interviewed, looking breathtaking in her green dress. “—did you take anything from set?” The interviewer was asking, smiling at Florence.

“Um—not much, just Y/n’s heart.” Florence immediately cracked up at her own joke, smiling widely. “And her underwear too.” She added.

The interviewer opened her mouth to say something more, giggling at Florence as she continued speaking: “and before you ask, no. I wouldn’t be selling, for any price. Finders keepers and all that shite—plus, she’s my girl, so. That rule applies even more so. No one else can take her heart. Or her pants.”

Watching your friend, you giggled at her cheesy smile at her words before getting distracted by your group chat, where multiple of your friends and co-starts had seen your message and were now responding. Your laughter increased tenfold as you opened the thread.