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gucciwins · 2 days

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A Family of Three Grows

A/N: Thank you to the lovely Nonnie who brought back inspiration for this story I wrote in 2020 and last gave an update in 2022. Who knew 2024 would be the year I brought it back. This was fun to write and go back to this family's dynamics. Hope you enjoy, my sweet friends 💜

Word count: 3234

Adore You / Three Time / Leather and Lace / Family / Ask

Harry loved his family.

Y/N and Atticus were everything to him and when Y/N broke the news their family was going to be growing, he was over the moon. It’s something they talked about but never rushed because they had Atticus, their sweet angel who would not stop growing.

Atticus was the smartest boy. He was the top of his class and loved to read chapter books with Y/N. Each night, they would read a chapter and discuss their thoughts over breakfast in the morning. Harry’s input was asking questions so he could stay in the loop. Harry still remembered a summer day where he went to run errands, leaving them at home reading in bed and came to find them cuddled with ten books laid on their bed. He knew his son valued this time with the woman he called Mum.

Life had treated them well. Y/N was writing, going to the studio when Atticus was at school. Harry adhered to the schedule and was open to working extra hours. Y/N and Harry were the perfect team. She helped create the entirety of Harry’s house. It was an album he felt captured their life in their own way. The grammy’s that year were a pleasant bonus to round out the amazing year they had.

Y/N and Harry were in the studio today while Atticus was at school. Harry was in no rush to push out a fourth album. He enjoyed being in the studio with Y/N. It made him fall in love with her all over again. The ideas she brought were something he didn’t take for granted.

Y/N was sitting at the piano wearing her favorite oversized Ferrari sweater. The girl clung to her worn-out shirt, despite its tears. Not that he would ever make her. He had his fair share of tattered shirts in his closet.

She was beautiful. How lucky he was to have her as his partner for the past five years. Their family is everything he dreamed of when he was a young boy. Without looking, she called for him to sit beside her on the bench. He did so without a second thought.

“I wrote a song–well, it’s unfinished,” she tells him as she plays the soothing lullaby she wrote for Atticus when he was six years old and was having a hard time sleeping through the night. It’s something she played repeatedly until Atty would fall asleep.

“Can I hear it?”

Y/N shifts. She seemed reluctant to reveal it to him.

“Well, it might not be any good,” she defends, and she pulls her notebook.

Harry frowns. Y/N being insecure in the studio is unheard of unless it’s something she’s been holding in her chest for a long time and is finally letting it out. She passes him the notebook. There’s a picture holding the place she wants him to read. One look at her is all the encouragement he needs to open up the book and read the first words: For Atty.

He reads line by line and by the time he reaches the last words, there are tears fighting to fall from his eyes. Y/N wrote a song for their song. It’s a rough draft, and he knows she wants him to help her finish it.

“Atticus knows how much we love him–how much I love him. But I want him to hear this song and know that my love isn’t something that will ever go away. If anything, it’ll only get stronger.” She tells Harry.

It takes everything in him to not break down because he never expected to be loved this much in life. He expected to be content, but this was beyond anything he could ever dream of. “It’s fucking perfect.”

Y/N shakes her head. “No, it’s not even–”

Harry stops her, reaching for her hand. He brings it to his lips, placing a soft kiss on her hand. “It’s amazing. You wrote a song for our boy. Sure it’s not finished, but you wrote those lyrics calling our sun the light of our life. The reason the world turns. I have never been able to put into words how much he means to me, but you did it.”

“I love you,” Y/N reminds him.

“Love you, too. So fucking much.”

“Will you sing it?” Y/N asks. Those beautiful eyes are staring at him and there is no way he can tell her no.

After so many years together, Harry understands how Y/N writes songs. He can see the melody written out. It’s something that frustrates Tyler because he doesn’t pick up on her cues. Harry tells him not to sweat it, it’s something only they have. Something they have as the perfect pair.

Y/N plays the melody on the piano as Harry sings the lyrics. The longer he sings, the more he feels his throat close up and by the final lyrics, he’s got tears streaming down his face. “I don’t think I can sing it without crying.”

She laughs. “You’ll have to try. I want us to record it for Atty. Maybe get it on a record for him.”

Harry gives her a long kiss. “That sounds like the best idea.”

Y/N and Harry spent the rest of the day in the studio, knowing Atticus was with Anne for the day allowed them the extra time to be in the studio. By the time dinner rolled around, Harry had ordered them food from her favorite Chinese food restaurant. Y/N reminded him three times not to forget her spring rolls. Over dinner, they discussed the song and how they might want to surprise Atticus. Y/N made him promise not to tell him until they could have it produced by their good friend, Tyler. It would take some time, but it would be worth it.

Y/N had a last surprise for Harry. They were back to sitting side by side on the piano bench when she passed him her notebook again. “There is one last surprise,” Y/N tells him. She flips the notebook a few more pages. There is a paper. He thinks nothing of it until Y/N turns it around for him.

A sonogram.

It’s a black photo with a small gray blob in the center. Harry isn’t sure what to think. It can’t be true. Can it?

He squints, picking up the paper, and in the corner has Y/N’s hyphenated name.

“Baby, is this?” He gets out.

“What is it?”

“Are we–are you?” Harry lifts his head to meet her eyes that are brimming with tears. “Are you pregnant?”

Y/N lets out a joyous laugh, one that finds a place deep in his heart. “Yeah,” she confirms. “I’m pregnant. We’re going to have a baby.”

“Oh, my goodness.” Harry looks back down at the sonogram. He wants to know everything, but all he can do is cry. Y/N stands up from the bench to move closer to him. Harry turns his body, resting his head on her stomach, Y/N settles her hands on his shoulder. She lets one run through his hair as he takes in the news that they are going to be giving Atticus a sibling. Something he would ask for constantly. They were making a dream come true.

“Hi, little pea. I’m your Daddy.”

Harry pulls away from Y/N when he hears a loud sob. “I’m sorry,” Y/N apologies for startling him. “That was–I don’t even know how to explain it, but fuck, you’re so amazing.”

He drags Y/N to sit in his lap. Harry holds her close, rocking her back and forth, kissing her neck, whispering, I love you. This is something they talked about endlessly. Atticus was their boy. They had always said their family was perfect. Whether they added to their family or not, they are happy, but getting this addition into their life felt right.

Y/N isn’t sure how much time passes, but she is ready to go home and be with Atticus. As they’re packing up, Y/N steps towards Harry, knowing he might be upset with the only downside to the news of her pregnancy. “H, we can’t tell anyone. Not Atticus. Not even Anne.”

“But love, how do you expect me to resist?”

Y/N’s smile is sincere. She knows he wants to scream it from the rooftops. “It’s early,” she stresses. “I want us to make sure everything is okay. That we make it past this first trimester. I know that’s asking a lot for you.”

Harry shakes his head. “Not at all, Lovie. I understand. Your health and the babies are important. I respect that.”

She gives him a kiss. “Thank you.”

“Let’s get home to our sweet boy.”

They leave the studio with their hearts full.

It’s been three months and Y/N’s doctor gave them the all clear. Their sweet bub is growing at a good rate and Y/N is doing spectacular. No morning sickness, no weird food cravings (yet) and is glowing. Harry was excited because that meant it was time for them to share the news with their family, but most importantly, to Atticus.

Harry spent the day getting the surprise ready. The vinyl was in a special box ready to be opened and then played. They’d be doing that first, then give Atticus the news. While Harry ran around getting everything perfect, Y/N laid in the hammock in their backyard with Atticus. They each had a book in hand. Atticus at 9 was reading the Percy Jackson series, something Y/N was excited about because they were some of her favorite books when she was growing up. Now she got to see her son experience everything she did at his age. It helped that she could answer questions he had, without spoilers, of course.

Y/N set her book down, running her hand through Atticus’ brown locks similar to Harry’s. She knew he’d made a great older brother. She also feared he’d think she’d loved him less with a baby around, which was far from the truth. Atticus was hers, he was her baby boy and nothing or no one could take that from her. Harry likes to joke and say Atticus is her twin instead of his because he takes after her. Atticus has all of Harry’s looks but is everything her child for he has her love of reading. He loves the ocean and could spend hours in there with them. Atty was charismatic and had everyone’s attention as soon as he walked into a room. He exuded confidence and skillfully commanded attention with his voice. Y/N liked to say he picked up on both of their traits, but Harry assured her Atticus was a piece of her. It never failed to make her cry.

“I love you Atticus.” Y/N told him, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

Atticus bookmarked the page he was on. “I love you too, Mum.”

Y/N wanted to blurt out the news to Atticus, but knew Harry would be upset she did it without him, so she held it in.

“Forever going to be my sweet boy?” Y/N asks.

“Course. Going to take care of you all my life,” Atticus promises.

Y/N smiles. A very Harry answer. “Much appreciated. I think your dad has got you covered.”

Atticus shrugs, “two of us looking out for you isn’t bad.”

“Glad I’m in safe hands.”

Atticus goes back to reading but Y/N stays lost in thought, waiting for Harry to announce his arrival. It isn’t much longer when Harry rushes through the backyard, box in hand. Y/N sits up, eager to give it to her son, but Atticus doesn’t seem concerned about his reading.

“Hi bud, got you something?” Harry shakes the box softly.

“Two pages left,” Atticus mumbles.

Harry frowns. “This is your fault.” He points at Y/N.

Y/N gasps. “Please, who bought him an entire library?”

“Again you,” he defends.

“Technically, your money.”

“Our money,” Harry corrects.

Atticus is entranced in his reading and Harry uses the time to steal a kiss from Y/N. They refrain from anything too much for Atticus’ sake, but he never minds seeing them give a bit of affection.

“Chapter done,” Atticus shouts. “Gimme. Gimmie.” He makes grabby hands, but Harry shakes his head, telling him they had to head inside.

Y/N holds onto Harry’s arm as Atticus rushes inside to the piano room. It’s his favorite room in their Malibu home. The view is perfect. You can see the tides rolling in, one landing on top of another. The sounds perfect to lull someone to sleep.

Harry sits next to Atticus while Y/N kneels in front of him, her hands pressed together under her chin as she watches him tear the paper. Y/N remembers doing that as a child and knows her mother was a saint for the patience she had. Y/N is close to ripping it herself, but when she sees the brown box, she settles down for a single moment.

Atticus pulls out the record. It’s in a sleeve with a beautiful print of Y/N, Harry and Atticus running through the sand a few months back. Anne had taken it and it became their favorite picture as a family. Harry

thought it would be the perfect fit, and it was. On the top of the cover it read “Atticus’ Song”. His small hands ran over the words as he sounded it out.

“Is this us?”

Y/N stroked his cheek. “Yeah, bubs. It’s for you.”

“Can you play it?” Atticus asks Y/N.

Harry knew Y/N was nervous. Hell, he was too. There was no worse critic than an honest nine-year-old. As Y/N placed the record on the player, Atticus fiddled with the string of the bracelet he made the other day with Harry. They all had a similar one on their wrist, Atticus having made Y/N’s matching them. Y/N walked back, squeezing next to Harry. Atticus closed his eyes to focus on the opening notes of the song. He was just like Harry, a true critic and admirer of all music. This time was no different.

The song was slow and had the melody of a lullaby. Harry’s voice welcomed them into the song, with Y/N’s joining him in the chorus. Y/N saw Atticus’ lip twitch during her solo and she couldn’t help but squeeze Harry’s arm. The song ran its course, and they waited patiently for his thoughts.

“Nice. It was really nice.”

Y/N let out a deep breath she was holding. Atticus cries, and Y/N panics as she swoops him into her lap before Harry can even move. She holds him tight to her chest as she meets Harry’s worried stare.

“Darling, my darling boy. I got you. I always have you.” Y/N whispers, brushing his hair back, trying her best to soothe him. Y/N rocks him back and forth, letting him get out all his emotions.

Atticus pulls back, his sniffles the only sound in the room. “Promise I like it.”

Harry laughs. “Tears would say otherwise, bud.”

“It–I–I” Atticus isn’t sure how to explain what he felt. “Can we play it every day?”

Y/N presses a kiss to his temple. “Anything for you.”

“You wrote it Mumma?”

Harry scoffs in defense. “What if I did? Huh?”

Atticus giggles. “Okay, Dad.”

Harry pouts. Y/N is the stronger song writer, there is no fighting it. “Fine, she wrote most of it.”

“We did it together,” Y/N answers.

“It’s my new favorite.” Atticus declares proudly.

“Good. That’s good. We do have one last surprise.” Harry is eager to share the news.

He stands up and goes for the frame they put the sonogram in for Atticus to keep in his room. While Harry steps out, Y/N settles Atticus in the middle of the sofa for Harry to sit next to him. Honestly, she wants to record this moment but decides it’s better to keep it private between them. Harry comes back with his dimples on display and Atticus is quick to be suspicious.

“Now close your eyes,” Harry orders.

Atticus looks weary but does as he’s told. Harry places the frame in his hands and when Atticus opens his eyes, he is looking at their most recent sonogram. It’s clear there is a baby in the middle with its head and body. Atticus would be quick to put it together, but even if he didn’t, the frame reading “Best Brother” would be a dead giveaway. Atticus’ jaw drops at the news. His eyes were not leaving Y/N’s as if he was waiting for them to say “just kidding” because he had waited a long time for this moment. There was a baby in his mum’s stomach. He was going to be an older brother.

“Is that why you’re always snacking?” Is the first thing Atticus says.

“Atticus,” Harry shouts playfully. Harry spares a glance at Y/N, unsure how she will react. She’s been a weeping mess, even if she denies it’s the pregnancy hormones. Instead, she surprises him by laughing. It’s a full belly laugh that makes her tear up.

It is true Y/N had been snacking recently, always something in her hand from a mandarin to banana chips. Harry had stocked up on different snacks on his weekly run to Tesco. He was sure Y/N had almost finished them, but he didn’t mind making all the extra runs out. Anything for his wife.

“How long do I have to wait to meet them?” Atticus asks when Y/N’s laughter has died down.

Y/N places her hand over her stomach. She hasn’t popped yet, but her doctor told her it would happen soon. Harry had taken photos every day, so she had seen the difference. “About six months to go, Atty.”

His eyes widened. “Too long.”

Harry laughs, pushing back Atticus’ growing curls. “Trust me, I know. But we’ve got an important job during this time.”

Y/N smacks Harry’s shoulder. “You don’t have a job, baby. We want you to keep being you. You can talk to us about the baby, about anything.”

“Can they hear me?” Is his follow up question.

“Mmm, you can talk to them all you like. Your Daddy certainly likes to do so.”

“Hey,” Harry pouts. “Thought you liked it.”

Y/N gives Harry a kiss. “I love it. One of my favorite parts of the day.”

“Okay. Can I do it now?” Atticus asks.

Harry nods and gestures for him to settle on the couch with Y/N. He sits on Y/N’s lap while Harry is quick to try to move him, wanting him to be careful with her. Y/N simply pulls him closer, and it reminds him of how perfect of a mother Y/N already is.

He joins his family on the couch, all snuggled close, while they listen to Atticus talk to his sibling. It’s one of the best days of Harry’s life and he can’t wait to make more memories in a few months’ time. For now, he will enjoy these special moments.

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles dad #harry styles and Atticus #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic rec #harry styles story #harry styles one shot #harry styles series #harry styles blurb #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfic #harry styles writing #harry styles fic

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anonymous-yandere-writer · 3 days

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You know I was reading your platonic yandere Malleus story and I thought what if the punishment made the Reader realize how actually suffocating it is to be around Malleus and servants constantly? It's kind of inverse of Malleus, who was always didn't like being alone whereas his child realize how liberating it is to be free from royalty and royal expectations. The child, of course, struggled with cooking and cleaning at first, but slowly got the hang of it and realized this is the most fun and freeing they ever had.

Reader when Malleus tells them that their punishment is over and they can interact with him, the servants and act like a royal now:

Y'know, I like this idea. It gives the story a bit more ~angst~ and I think the yandere tab here on tumblr could use even more of that. Thank you for the asks!

Anon-Yan 💌‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

Platonic Yandere Malleus

Part 2

Your punishment itself lasted months, almost years, but Malleus could only bear to keep you in that rickety old tower for so long.

Until he decided to take you out make you "prove" to him that you changed.

You didn't really have to prove to him much, all had to do was give a half-hearted "Sorry" and he would've forgiven you.

Though it wasn't like you didn't change during your time up in the tower. You'd like to think you actually changed quite a bit.

Given that you're not some Manipulative little shit anymore, the servants would also agree.

Due to your time in the Tower you grew to be very self-dependent. You learned how to cook, clean, solve your problems all by yourself. Without the help of your "Loving Father".

You also got alot quieter, having spent the previous months in isolation. You basically unlearned any and all social skills that you had previously built.

While Malleus expected you to change, that being the whole point of him doing this, he didn't expect such a big change in personality.

He thought you were going to remain his precious little baby, who cried and hugged their father. Begging him for forgiveness.

His little baby that thrived off of his attention. Going so far as to become a little troublemaker for it.

Instead you're....this

Don't get him wrong, he still loves you. But where is his precious baby? Now instead of following him around like a lost puppy constantly you stay in your room for hours on end, barely making it out to have supper with him and the rest of the family before slipping away and back into your room again.

What are you even doing in there for so long? He doesn't get it.

He also learns that you've shooed off any and all servants that come to attend to you. While it is good progress for you being a good royal and not needing servants, Malleus doesn't know if he can handle you growing up so fast.

Or at all for that matter.

"Dear, I'm worried about you. You've been hauling yourself up in this dark and dreary room of yours for the past month! And not once have you come out to spend some bonding time with me and the rest of the family. Was I too harsh punishing you? If I was please tell me! If you're upset or angry at me for what I did please just say something, anything!"

Malleus gets desperate when he realizes that you aren't a baby anymore. You don't need him to survive anymore. The fact alone makes him want to cry.

But then again wasn't that how this all started? With you acting like a bratty two year old and needing to be taught how to be both an adult and a royal.

So why then..why are these feelings so conflicting?

Yes, he got what he wanted. You're acting like an actual royal now.

However you barely even speak to him. Your own father!

He can't wrap his head around his own emotions, it isn't until you come up to him and announce your plan of leaving the castle to go venture the world all on your own does he finally snap.

He doesn't even listen to your reasoning he just grabs you by your wrist yet again and take you to your 'new bedroom.'

A room right next his, only accessible to him.

This is the only way he can keep you in line.

This is the only way he can make sure the Draconia name is upheld.

This is the only way he can keep you at his side.

Forever.

"I'm sorry it had to come to this, my child, but one day you'll understand. You'll finally see things the way I do. But until then I'll just have to keep you here and give you all the love I could ever give."

"Sweet dreams, little one."

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rosegoldrosieee · 3 days

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so high school

while flesh-eating walkers had seemingly crushed your long-held dreams of experiencing romance as a teenager, carl grimes made you feel so high school.

♡ carl x f!reader, fluff, implied suggestiveness, friends to lovers (sorta), ambiguously alexandria, reader has a spine

a/n: wrote this yesterday hiding in the bathroom during lunch on my school-licensed chromebook for maximum immersion

it was times like these, standing outside on someone’s back porch to get away from boisterous conversations and forced interactions, that reminded you of stupid high school chick flicks with cheesy one-liners, twenty-something actors playing sixteen-year-olds, and predictable love triangles.

you never got to navigate and, most importantly, surmount pubescent awkwardness, nor gush about crushes at sleepovers, because by your twelfth birthday, the dead somehow began to roam the earth.

out of sheer necessity, you’d eschewed any shot at teenage romance for survival skills, and effectively turned into a wallflower when you rejoined civilized society.

a gentle tap on your shoulder snapped you out of your reverie.

“hey.”

there stood the very reason you were even thinking about early-2000s romance movies in the first place: a chronically flannel-clad, one-eyed cowboy, notorious for merely sharing the same last name as the de facto leader of alexandria, now two feet in front of you holding a shot glass of fruit punch.

“didn’t mean to scare you.” he says with a sheepish grin plastered on his face.

“the only thing that’s scaring me is what you’re using as a vessel for your fruit punch.”

“everyone used up all the solo cups so i had to dig around in the cabinets,” he replies nonchalantly, holding up the glass. “why are you out here?”

why were you out here?

…

you can’t even remember.

“i don’t know.”

it’s hard to think, much less remember, anything when carl’s looking at you like that, arms crossed and leaning forward onto the banister, blue eyes boring into your own.

“did you even hear me?” he taps your hand that’s resting on the ledge gently, his lips quirking up with the ghost of an amused smile.

your eyes flick up to meet his attentively. “…what?”

“wow, you’re really out of it today,” he laughs, sipping from his shot glass. “forget it.”

you shift your weight, shaking your head. “well, i’m listening now, so tell me.”

his fingers are fidgeting with yours, you realize. tapping gently on your knuckles. intentionally, unintentionally? it was cute either way.

he tilts his head. “i just want to know what you’re thinking about.”

you shrug, as dismissively as you possibly can. swallowing down the butterflies that threatened to crawl into your throat.

“getting away from this stupid ass party.”

he raises an eyebrow, tone skeptical. “and?”

you narrow your eyes. it was a bad habit, using vitriol to mask your emotions. you were well aware. “what do you mean, ‘and’?”

“‘cause you’re smart,” his lips curl into a smirk. “that’s not all you’re thinking about. you’re never all…spaced out, like this.”

fuck you, carl grimes.

“i’m just tired,” you fib. your eyes drift to your hand, intertwined with carl’s, before quickly looking away. “you’re reading into it too much.”

“only because you’re not acting normal,” he teases, a dimpled grin gracing his features before he adds, “and you definitely would’ve pulled away by now if you didn’t want this.”

you steal a glance at your entangled hands again, heat rising to your face before you ask, skeptical, “what are you trying to do, exactly?”

“what do you think i’m trying to do?”

you glance to the side furtively, tongue-tied, still able to hear the muffled revelry through the shut screen door, before your eyes trace over his features again.

you wanted to wipe that shit-eating grin off his face so badly.

tugging at the collar of his unbuttoned flannel, you shift your weight to the balls of your feet, connecting your lips to his fruit-punch-stained ones.

you swear you’ll never drink hawaiian punch, or any drink with red-40 in the ingredients list, again without imagining the taste of him lingering on your lips.

expression tinged with a gradient of conflicting emotions when you pull away, you open your mouth to say something— and then he pulls you in this time, words dying in your throat with a soft whimper.

the party fades into an afterthought until you hear the screen door open just around the corner, thudding against the frame. quickly, you disentangle yourself from his arms, faces still flushed.

it’s rick, his rugged, stubbled face and piercing gaze (so it must be hereditary, you wagered) flickering between the two of you suspiciously, nodding at you curtly.

“carl.”

thank god for your quick reflexes — those, at least, hadn’t deteriorated just because you were sheltered by alexandria.

carl swallows, freckled face flushed as he quickly looks at you, panic etched on his face. the evidence of your little affair conveniently disguised by the shadow of his cowboy hat and the darkness of the night.

“dad, can’t we stay a little longer?”

“think the party’s ‘bout over.”

you peer into the ajar casement windows, abandoned solo cups decorating the vacant living room, watching abraham stagger into the mudroom and nearly take a shelf with him when he topples forward. rosita, unamused, rolls her eyes, grumbling something unintelligible before dragging him along.

before the grimes family gets into a fight, you take it upon yourself to leave first, retrieving your cardigan that was hanging on the banister. “see you around, carl. bye, mr. grimes.”

both of them wave as you disappear into tree-lined streets, intermittently illuminated by uniform streetlights.

as soon as you’re out of earshot and out of sight, you let out a pleasant sigh, smiling from ear to ear like an absolute idiot as your hands reached up to feel your flushed cheeks, still hot to the touch as you giggle to yourself at the incredulity of it all.

at home, once the high had worn off, or more realistically, ebbed for the time being, you shed your cardigan, scrutinizing the crimson patches blooming on the side of your neck in the mirror, smiling like a fool.

these were the only kind of bites you’d ever tolerate.

#Spotify #the walking dead #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes #twd #twd fanfiction #carl grimes x you

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vryfmi · 3 days

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[major book spoilers!]

a mildly long analysis of skull and Lucy's relationship in TEG in light of recent Stroud's interview answer.

also i need this video on my blog

[audio transcript of The Writing Community Chat stream:

CJ (host), reading a question from NeeveDaFoe: I need to know why Skull is more powerful than Ezekiel!!!

Jonathan Stroud: Well, I think the power that he has is through his connection with Lucy. I think, ultimately, the message of Lockwood & Co books, and indeed most of my books, is that you get your strengths through the connection with others, love and mutual support. So, our friend, the skull, ultimately, gains his power through the relationship he's built up with Lucy over the course of the books, despite all his rude comments.

CJ, laughing: Nice!

/end transcript]

it's not like i didn't know it beforehand, the message is very clear in the books and especially in how skull and Ezekiel are juxtaposed in their confrontation. that skull looks almost like his alive self minus transparency and gauntness of his features, while Ezekiel has barely anything that would make us think he used to be human. he's disconnected from reality, he views himself as an ascended being. meanwhile skull is there to be a sarcastic menace and definitely not to save Lucy bc he definitely didn't grow to care for her.

but the thing is that Lucy tried to put her trust into skull only now. it wasn't even her first decision when confronting Marissa and Ezekiel, far from it. she'd freed skull only when Lockwood came in and she wasn't afraid to face whatever was at hand alone. being strangled by insane old woman possessing her granddaughter's body or get ghost-touched by Ezekiel or skull at that matter — doesn't make much of a difference. she did promise skull to free him, she got the taste of what it's like to be stuck on The Other Side, so she delivered, trusting that skull won't hurt her nor Lockwood when the two of them were seconds away from taking Marissa down, even if it was the last thing she did.

saying that skull payed back Lucy for freeing him just doesn't seem right. she was feeding him empty promises the whole book to the point where both skull and Lucy knew that they had this same conversation over and over again to no avail. but skull kept bringing it up. while Lucy couldn't bring herself to trust skull even after all help he provided for her and her friends.

but her attitude changes once she meets skull on The Other Side, the person that he once was. or at least that what she thinks in that moment because that's the same skull she was talking to for the past 2 years. Lucy has a clear disconnect: seeing not just an obscure grimace in the jar but a whole person before her. it strikes that The Lucy Carlyle Formula™ button and she aches with sympathy describing skull's appearance, acknowledging that he passed away at young age, at her age. whether she sees her situation and her inevitable demise in him, or is simply struck with "there's more to just the skull (a literal bone), there's a person before her", Lucy has a full 180 on skull from that point forward. but it's too late and it's her fault. skull gets taken away and Lucy is left alone in the kitchen. how much did she regret not listening to skull, not trusting him, not getting to know him? apparently a lot judging by their second (technically third) run into each other on The Other Side:

A wave of something washed through me. Relief? Pleasure at seeing something familiar in this dreadful place? Whatever it was, it made me warm. (TEG)

[i know what you are]

but if Lucy had time to ponder, so did skull. it makes sense that he'd say 'Shared names come with trust'. i believe he told the truth there and he forgot his name for good but still made it clear for Lucy — it's a bit too late for getting to know each other, especially after Lucy was giving him a cold shoulder, when that hammer was still on her belt. for all he knew, Lucy and her friends could've had not made it across Dark London and he'd be forever trapped in Fittes basement or worse. in any other situation he'd have no one to blame but circumstances, but here it would've been Lucy's fault.

and yet, despite all that, despite all rude comments and headbutting, skull's more human than Ezekiel because of Lucy, and he's stronger than Ezekiel because he cares for and loves Lucy. not my words, Stroud's. whatever sick manipulations and control Ezekiel had over Marissa and vice versa, it stood no chance against two mean teenagers that fought their way through trauma with humor, sarcasm and gratuitous bum jokes.

now leave me alone to sulk over skullyle

#lockwood and co #l&co #skullyle #analysis #lockwood and co spoilers #l&co spoilers #jonathan stroud #lucy carlyle #the skull #skull in the jar #skull in a jar #marissa fittes #ezekiel #video #described #transcribed #.mypost #let me out of my enclosure (university) and let me roam free in the wilderness (write an overly detailed skullyle analysis)

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punkpandapatrixk · 1 day

Text

💓Heartbeat Disco ☆ Timeless Tarot Guidance

Elements/Signs in this reading are calibrated to all aenergetic placements. Feel free to read as many Elements/Signs as you feel called to at this point in your spiritual evolution♡

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Are you feeling this aenergy of a Higher Romance that’s been pouring unto Earth this year? Earth’s temperatures are finally changing and so many Destined Lovers are going to find each other in the coming decades. I hope you’re excited for that for yourself~ You might just get a heartbeat disco this year and I hope that gets you enjoying Life and Love all over again! ☆

Fated encounters? Honest romance? Love that doesn’t leave you guessing? What’s coming to you in Love within the year you’re seeing this reading?! I hope your happiness is here to stay finally~♪

☆♪°・. aenergetic companion PAC ☆♪°・.

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☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Heartbeat Disco for 🐞Fire Signs – Gold Astrologer (Simon Forman)

Page of Cups, 8 of Swords, 6 of Pentacles

This year, Fire Signs, you are going to meet very interesting people that will make your heart flutter. This isn’t just about romance but a real sense of human connection that makes you understand, finally, that good people really do exist. And you’ll be glad you never lost hope in people—at least, not entirely XD The people you’ll be encountering are either younger than you in age or they simply exude a joyful and optimistic aura. These people are going to pull you into their worlds—their worlds are very exciting. You just need to know that you, too, have a place in those worlds.

Up until now, you’ve lived under the impression that you’d never amount to anything. This was all a mind game though; perhaps your society made you believe that someone from your country or background would never be able to be where you dream to be; perhaps you were gaslit since childhood, being made to believe that you’re worthless; perhaps there were many evil whispers about your power and talents. All’s a mind game. You’re getting out of that fuck-fog; you’re seeing your true worth now and you have been magnetising your Tribe.

This year—whatever year you’re finding this reading—you’re on the fast track towards your Soul Tribe and that place you belong to. On this new land, on this new landscape, you will be sharing positive aenergies and ideas with people who are similar to you not only in character but also in dreams and ambitions. For the first time ever, you will truly know what it feels like to have a ‘family’. And this family is so much better than you could’ve ever imagined~🍀

Oracle Guidance for Fire Signs🔻❤️

🐏Aries – Priestess of Prosperity

🦁Leo – Priestess of Luxury

🎠Sagittarius – Priestess of Luck

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Heartbeat Disco for 🐍Earth Signs – Red Alchemist (John Dee)

3 of Cups Rx, Queen of Cups Rx, 8 of Wands

Wow, seems you’ve been through some betrayals up until this point. It could also be a feeling of being disappointed in people—people or communities you thought had your best interests. For quite a while now, I think you’ve been in a purging phase. Ridding yourself of attachments and expectations that no longer served your highest good. It seems to me this year you’re still gonna be in that phase. This year is probably your last leg of the purging process though.

This whole being isolated, being alone, keeping to your own, learning to care for your mental health, has been necessary as part of your growing up. This is integral to your character/story development. Your Higher Self (and likely your ancestors, too) wanted to shield you from outside forces—vampiric forces—that would’ve drunk from your aenergy constantly, leaving you mentally drained and exhausted.

This year could be your last year of being alone in that sense—or maybe some time beginning next year. Your new chapter of better communications and better connections with high-quality people is only beginning to unfold. It hasn’t even started yet, dang. So keep going and be expectant for what’s to come. You have high places to go and powerful/inspirational people to meet. Your glorious days are yet to come, babe~🥂

Oracle Guidance for Earth Signs🔻💚

🐂Taurus – Priestess of Ritual

🧘🏻‍♀️Virgo – Priestess of Opulence

🐐Capricorn – Priestess of Inspiration

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Heartbeat Disco for ⛲Air Signs – Gold Astronomer (John Dee)

Knight of Cups, 9 of Wands Rx, Knight of Wands

Have you been wishing upon a star for a healthy Love? Seems like lately there’s been a love song in your heart <3 Seems like your Higher Self is announcing the advent of someone special this year hahah Of all the Signs, Air and Water seem like they’re going to be having the hardest heartbeat disco LMAO A destined encounter is very likely to happen for Air Signs this year. I sense you’re on the trajectory of a Soul Mission. I know you’ve been having signs and synchronicities. Your Spirit Guides have been giving you premonitions~

You’re seriously coming out of a karmic loop where in the past relationships were always taxing on your emotions, and simply, difficult/confusing to navigate. You’ve done all the inner work now. Starting this year, it’s like you’ve transported yourself into a different timeline altogether and you will start meeting very important Souls throughout the next chapter of your Life. In what ways are they important? All ways! You’ll know when you meet them! The excitement in your heart will tell you what purpose each Soul is meant to serve in your Story.

Some may lead you towards your Life Purpose; some may really carry you through the storms so you get to your Life Purpose; some may work with you as part of your collective dharmic Life Purpose. The scenarios vary but the people you will begin to meet starting this year are those that will make you fall in love with Life and yourself again. For some, romance may not seem all too close this year because you’re really working on your enterprise, but that surely can come later, right? XD

Oracle Guidance for Air Signs🔻💙

👯Gemini – Priestess of Intellect

⚖️Libra – Priestess of Illumination

🏺Aquarius – Priestess of Enchantment

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Heartbeat Disco for 🐝Water Signs – Silver Astronomer (Galileo Galilei)

4 of Pentacles Rx, 4 of Swords Rx, 5 of Swords Rx

Ready to mingle, Water Signs? :D Y’all seem to be the peeps who are most ready to re-enter society LOL You’re the ones who have been most disciplined in your healing and transformation. I sense this is especially the case if Water is your Moon or Ascendant! And to some extent, if Water is your North Node or the NN is in a Water House. Anyway, you’ve done such a marvellous inner work all by yourself, isolated from society and some of you have probably been dealing with curses and financial misery and whatnot. You’ve been keeping your chin up tho! The time for you to get rich, mingling, and be of assistance to others is NOW!

If you’ve not been able to go out or work regularly or even hold a decent conversation with anyone, soon you’ll see that you’re coming back to your healthy self. It’s your psychology that you’ve been working so hard on fixing and healing. This year is the end of all your spiritual struggles. You’re coming into your authentic power, your authentic expression. You don’t care anymore and you won’t be easily triggered by what used to depress you so much before. You’ve won this WAR against frequencies that were trying to destroy you from the inside!

I’m actually seeing bombs raining down on whoever tried to mess with you up until recently XD All of the bad karma, all of the negative thought-forms formed against you are firing back at their generator(s). You’re safe. You’re on calm shores now. And moving forward, you’re going to be surrounded by new friends and family who are going to be so supportive as well as protective of you. Congratulations! Love is in the aethers for you! Claim it~ Aaaahh! <3<3<3 Happiness is the most potent revenge on those who wished death upon your Light!

Oracle Guidance for Water Signs🔻💛

🦀Cancer – Priestess of Healing

🦂Scorpio – Priestess of Solitude

🎏Pisces – Priestess of Love

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

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toniiswrld · 2 days

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🎀's topic for today/tonight: rich bf!Anton 🫡 yes, this stems from my deep-seated desire to have a man who pays for everything i could possibly want and is obsessed with me.

rich bf!Anton for sure experienced love at first sight when he met you for the first time through a mutual friend (Sohee bc i said so). he just knew you two were meant to be. Anton shyly asked you out the second time you met. that was the first (and only) time you got a gift from a guy on the first date. when he told you he would bring you a surprise to your date, you expected flowers or a teddy bear, not earrings that cost more than you could make in a year.

after that, all hell broke loose. every single date, before you made it official, was preceded by an extravagant gift. when you agreed to be his girlfriend, he almost fell to his knees in euphoria. he started buying even more gifts. you got a gift on your anniversary every month, every couple holiday, anytime he thought you were cute which was virtually every second of every day. anytime you off-handedly mention something you want, it gets delivered to your apartment the next day. you used to feel bad before you realized how much he loved spending money on you.

Beyoncé's "Dangerously In Love" is exactly what Anton embodies. he was literally whipped by day one! his friends make fun of him for it, but they'll just never know just how much he loves it. you took note early on that he was always so happy to gift you something. he'd always grin so wide with ears so red they could pass for tomatoes. the more he spent on you the happier he was.

you remember one particular night he popped a boner while looking over his bank statements. you were in his lap and pointing out which thousand-dollar purchases were yours (a monthly ritual since you started dating). you thought sitting on his lap was doing it for him, but the farther you got down the list, the tighter he held you to his lap. the two of you never finished the list because he dragged you over to the bed. that night he went down on you like it was his last meal and fucked you as his life depended on it. you never confronted him about poorly disguised kink, you just made sure to use his card a bit more than usual.

-🎀 (the way i just casually (and accidentally) write whole essays about these mfs is crazy and should studied)

i woke up last night at 3am, read this and giggled until i fell back asleep and wow… just wow u really eat these up every time 🤭

lowkey wanna make this into a fic fr so i wont share my thoughts and ill just leave this here… like findom except you don’t even realize whats going on until you see how turned he is while you whine about how he spends so much on you and that there was no reason for him to give you his card… he tells you that you that you don’t even have to work anymore cuz he’ll take care of everything 😵‍💫

#toniiswrld 💌#riize hard hours #toniiswrld☆hard hours #anton hard hours #toniiswrld༄🎀 anon

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notathingjustthere · 1 day

Text

Till Morning

Summary: A small argument escalates. Soft Simon.

Notes: my sister did a dramatic read with this in the background. they apparently had some rich character in mind.

Pairing: Simon x Reader

It was nothing serious at first so you insisted on resolving the issue immediately, and of course, he wanted to be anywhere else but there to talk about it. Neither one of you were in the mood, him more so than you, and though you knew better than to bug him about it you were only worried about calming your anxiety. You were absorbed in apprehension causing your voice to carry, wholly fixed on reconciling yet disregarding Simon’s solace. It was a second too late when you registered the slight rise to his voice, he was now approaching anger at your persistence. You decide to drop it on instinct, but now Simon is riled up matching your initial resolve.

It was your turn to be uncomfortable, unprepared for the vices he spewed, it was nothing cruel, but his tone stirred up a fret. “You wanted to talk, so let’s talk love” he snides. This was not what you wanted, it was much less calm than you hoped, and now you wanted out, having lost direction. If only you had listened. The dread was now up to your chest and everything was beginning to feel muted, you needed fresh air. “No don't walk away now,” he grabs your arm scornfully, preventing you from leaving. “Let fucking go of me.” he easily loosened his grip, realising how much the situation had escalated having never seen such a reaction from you.

It had been a year and a half of knowing each other and another year of living together. Things worked out surprisingly quickly, and Simon had never felt so seen, till he met you. You would have a tiff here and there but now as he watched you relieve the itch from your underarms, he scolded himself for missing how heavy and slow your breathing had gotten. Your palm on your chest, as you concentrate on breathing, was more of an indicator that this had gone beyond a petty quarrel. You felt that you had let your intuition down, somehow not foreseeing the left turn that this took.

The fresh cold air felt nice as it swept across your face, and the backyard provided the console you needed. You were breathing in more air than you could hold in but it slowly cut through the suffocating uneasiness. Simon let you be, keeping an eye on you from the door, you seemed to know how to handle yourself. You felt stupid whenever you attempted to wane yourself from a panicked state with the methods you came across online, but you tried it despite whether they were effective or not. You sit on the staircase in silence once you feel grounded. You can feel Simon’s orbs boring into the back of your head, and you gather your thoughts to say something after a while.

“I’m sorry if you feel like an asshole, I should have listened when you said you didn't wanna talk about it” you admitted.

He gruffed as he moved to sit next to you, saying nothing for a while before deciding to reply. “No, I should be apologising, shouldn’t have raised my voice like that.” He grabs your shoulder to bring you closer, and you turn to him with tears threatening to spill, and he realises he doesn’t remember the last time you cried, at least in front of him. “I just didn't wanna go to bed angry you know?” He nods, rubbing your arm in comfort, agreeing with your sentiment. “I just prefer to talk things out, and you’re leaving tomorrow, so…” you don't finish your thought but he knows you make a good point.

“Does that normally happen when things get too loud?” He asks. You sniffle, wiping away the tears that do escape, taking his question into account. You lay your head on his chest, still in your head.

“I don't know… It's been a while, but I suppose so.” you pause before going on. “ I walk away sometimes too, I guess I’ve never had someone else walk away, so I know how frustrating that feels now ” he chuckles at your resolve. “I get it, you wanted to remove yourself before things escalated.” That was your last thought, and now you could revel in the silence. Simon loved how insightful you could be most times, this moment being no exception.

“How about this, we can agree to never go to bed angry. If either one of us doesn’t wanna talk, we can leave it for the morning.” He breaks his silence, pressing a kiss on your head. You couldn’t agree more, pleased with how it ended.

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon riley fluff #fluff #angst #ghost cod #simon x reader #simon riley fic #simon riley imagine

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astarionancuntnin · 1 day

Text

Die For You (Chapter 2)

summary: following your encounter in that dark alley, you're faced with your old love. will you have the strength to stand up to him?

rating: T

word count: 2.1k

pairing: astarion x you (fem!reader)

cw: kidnapping, reader is shackled for a while, starvation (both imposed by captor and self-imposed), manipulation.

a/n: a shorter chapter and no funny business this time around cause we gotta focus on the development of their relationship while reader is in captivity. also! look out for the additional a/n at the end of the chapter! im undecided on where i want to take this so i want all of your opinions !!

previous chapter

read on ao3

or keep reading down below~

I fell in love with someone

I don’t know

Anymore, anymore

Sometimes I wonder if you

Think of me

Anymore, anymore

You can't make much of what happened after he appeared. You were too shocked by the presence of your past lover to acknowledge whoever cast sleep on you, knocking you unconscious at your most vulnerable moment. Cowards. When you awaken, you’re shackled, hanging to a wall in a dark cell. You pull against the restraints to no avail; you were securely locked in.

Your struggling must’ve made too much noise, as not long afterwards, the door opens wide, revealing Astarion, alone. He was standing proud in lavish clothing, different from the ones you had seen him in at the party a few days ago, but just as proper. As much as these last few months had been awful to you, it seemed like they had been the best in his last 200 years of existence. He approaches you slowly, head held high and arms crossed in his back.

“How’s your head, my dear?”

Hearing his voice again for the first time in months triggers a wave of emotions within you. Hurt, hatred, longing… lust. You shake them away as best as you can before questioning him.

“Why did you bring me here, Astarion?”

“Why, I simply wanted to talk,” he says, his tone annoyingly playful.

“Was the kidnapping and shackles really necessary?” You slightly pull against them again to make your point; you can barely move in this condition.

“Can you blame me? Seeing how you ignored me so easily all night, and the fury in which you provoked my servants, I doubted you were going to follow me here willingly.”

You close your eyes and sigh, dropping your head, discouraged.

“Plus,” he adds, “I couldn’t take the chance to have you run out on me. I let you go once, it’s not a mistake I’ll be doing again.”

You chuckle, somehow finding a way to laugh at the situation as you raise your head back to meet his gaze. “I notice that your inability to move on wasn’t part of the many things that changed after your ascension.”

He smiles back, amused by your wits. “I only kept the best parts, as you can see. Besides, I know you've been missing me just as much.”

“You're so full of yourself.”

“Am I? Were you not alone and miserable for all these months? Or did my spawns lie to me?”

“Wait… You’ve been spying on me?!” You exclaim in disbelief.

“Well, someone had to make sure you weren't off to get yourself killed in some stupid way.”

You scoff, offended at this image he had of you. “I can handle my own, thank you.”

“And yet, my servants had no problems cornering you in a dark alley.”

You open your mouth as you're about to answer back when you find yourself at a loss for words. He got you there, the prick. He notices your silence and sighs before commenting on your state.

“For someone who’s been wanting me ever since we parted, you keep playing hard to get, my dear.”

“Oh please, how am I ‘hard to get’? Hells, I was actively trying to forget about you, I never wanted to see you again. But no, you– you had to go after me.” The irony of the situation makes you laugh some more. “You have everything you’ve ever dreamed of and yet, you still couldn’t find someone new to replace me.”

He laughs lightly. “I’ve only ever wanted you, my treasure. And now,” he walks towards you with a languid pace, his hand reaching for your chin, lifting it to meet his gaze, “You're finally where you belong, where you should have always been in the first place.”

You snap your head out of his grasp. “Shackled at your feet?” You spit out.

He forcefully brings back your gaze on him, his nails grazing your cheeks, making you hiss. “By my side.” He looks at your bared teeth, smiling. “You will make a deadly consort, that I'm sure of.”

Your eyes widen as you understand the implication, and your voice rises as the fear starts to set in. “I’ll NEVER agree to this.”

He tilts your head aside and leans in the crook of your exposed neck, his breath hot against your skin. “You don't have to. I can just take what's rightfully mine.” he whispers and that last word sends a chill down your spine.

You struggle in his grasp, trying to pull your neck away as you shout. “Don’t you DARE!”

He chuckles to himself. “Oh, don't you worry, I intend on making sure you deserve it before we get there.” He releases your face coldly but doesn’t move away from you. “But where are my manners? I almost forgot; I meant to invite you to eat.”

“I would rather starve,” you declare, leaning into that last word.

He sighs, seemingly growing tired of your attitude. “Fine, do as you wish,” he says, walking away from you.

He leaves and you’re left on your own for Gods know how long. You spend those first hours trying to free yourself still and eventually give up when you start to feel the bruises on your wrists. You drift in and out of consciousness, fatigue affecting you more with every hour that passes. Without any source of light, it’s nearly impossible for you to tell how much time had gone by since the night you were captured. But, judging by the growling of your stomach, at least a full day had gone by, maybe even two. Your arms and legs were starting to give out on you as well, when the door before you opened to a spawn you didn't recognize.

“Lord Ancunín invites you to dinner,” he says, composed.

“You can tell him to fuck off.” Your words don’t have the intended effect as they’re told with a shaky voice. In truth, you would kill for just a piece of bread right about now, but you would let yourself die before you complied to Astarion.

“I'm afraid that's not an option.”

Two more spawns appear behind him, and you instantly understand where this is going; this wasn't a request, it was an order. You're unshackled, although the spawns’ grips were so strong, you didn’t notice a difference, and were guided out of your cell. You reach an immense dining room, where Astarion has been waiting for you, a gold cup already to his lips. Knowing him, you suppose it’s either blood or fine wine, not that you care either way. You sink into the chair positioned at your end of the table, eyeing the food before you suspiciously.

“Don't worry, I wouldn't dream of poisoning you. I only want what’s best for my dearest consort.”

You scoff, briefly eyeing Astarion who is sitting opposite of you before turning your attention to the contents between the two of you. You would lie to yourself if you said you weren't starving. The food laid out on the table looked delicious. The table was filled with different plates of food, each one looking better than the previous, making your stomach growl in appetite. You could practically drool all over the place, but you didn’t want to give Astarion the satisfaction of seeing you cave in. Not yet, not so soon. You wouldn’t let him get the best of you.

Astarion quickly understands your intentions, with you staring right back at him, and he sighs, rolling his eyes.

“It wouldn’t be wise to let yourself starve, pet. You wouldn’t want to waste all this delicious food, would you? Don’t be shy, at least take a bite.”

You're tempted, but against your better judgement, you ignore the mouth-watering meal, crossing your arms in defiance. He rolls his eyes, matching your attitude.

“As you wish.”

He snaps his fingers and the two spawns that brought you here move towards you, reaching for your arms. You stand up abruptly, pulling away from them in a defensive stance. Astarion speaks up, and you can practically hear the smile in his voice.

“Come on now, my lovely assistants only want to bring you back to your cell for the night.”

“I know the way.”

“I insist.”

Your fatigue and hunger get the best of you; you simply don’t have the energy to fight.

“Fine.”

“That’s my girl.”

You hate the effect he still has on you. He knows just what to say to get to you.

You shoot him a deadly glare and feel your breathing quickening as your heart races with anger and your nails dig through your palms. He smiles pretentiously at you, and you’re overcome with thoughts of jumping onto him and punching his stupid face, making him regret everything he’s done to you these last few days. If it wasn’t for the awful twist in your gut, you might have. You shut your eyes closed as you look away, frowning, before you start walking away and the two vampire spawns accompany you to your cell, where you let yourself slouch over the rock wall. At least, they didn't restrain you again.

Once again alone with your thoughts, your mind drifts to your companions. Specifically Shadowheart; would she still be waiting for you? Would she be looking for you? You wish you had a way to contact her, let her know you need help. Your thoughts are interrupted by a stabbing feeling in your gut, again. Maybe you should’ve taken a bite, just a small one, just to keep you going… No, this was a game to him, you needed to hold on. The pain is good, you try to convince yourself, it’s a reminder that I’m alive, mortal, and I’ll fight to keep it that way as long as I can.

Another wretched tenday passes and you avoid the food still. Every day follows the same routine: you’re woken up, Astarion’s spawns bring you to the large dining room where you’ll refuse to eat anything, until he gets bored of your attitude and you’ll be brought back to your cell, three times a day. You sense how Astarion is getting annoyed at you, and it strengthens your resolve. However, you hate to admit it, but you’re becoming weaker and weaker. You spend most of the passing days asleep, unable to think straight through your hunger, and too exhausted to do anything else.

Finally, you cave in.

As you're brought to the dining room for dinner, your gaze falls upon your favourite meal, presented before you. For the first time in days, your façade breaks down, you have eyes for nothing else other than the meal in front of you. Had this been given to you on the first day, you would’ve gladly turned it down, but you didn’t have that kind of resolve anymore. Astarion snaps you out of your reverie by mentioning the name of the plate, and you raise your eyes to meet his.

“You had asked me what my favourite meal was and I couldn’t remember.” His tone is gentle. “It had been so long that everything tasted like garbage. Even wine tasted like pure vinegar. It frustrated me. That’s when you told me about yours: Baldurian Mash. You described it in such great detail, I could almost taste it myself.” He pauses, and you look up to meet his gaze. “I wanted to give you what I couldn't have. A chance to remember.”

You can’t stop the tears from swelling up. You’re famished, completely drained, and mentally spent; this was the last straw. You grab the gold-plated utensil with a shaky hand and dig into the plate, shoving that first bite in your mouth. It’s even better than you remember it. You chew on that first bite longer than necessary, relishing the taste of the meal. It’s comforting, filling, it tastes like home; it’s everything you’ve wanted and more. You are so hungry that you end up ravishing the rest of it, barely taking the time to savour it properly past that first mouthful. Your belly growls, this time content with the food you finally gave it. After so many days resting on an empty stomach, you can't afford to eat anything else. You smile unconsciously as you lay back in your chair, satisfied with your meal, before getting up to leave, following the usual routine.

You stop in your tracks near the door and slightly turn around towards the ascendant, pausing before the words escape your lips.

“Thank you.”

As you walk away, you miss the devilish grin forming on his lips.

Everything was going perfectly according to his plan.

Familiar faces that look like you

They tend to

Mess with my head just like it's deja vu

It's always

Right when I think I’m getting over you

That it feels

Like I have salt inside an open wound

A/N²: POLL TIME

i already have another chapter written which wont be affected by this poll. BUT for the chapters that will follow, i need a direction since its going to change how i approach the writing (dialogues and important actions are going to be different based on the outcome)

i do have an idea for each option, i just need to know whats the vibe cause i cant decide myself (bisexual moment)

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reigningqueenofwords · 3 days

Text

Writer's Block

Pairing: Bucky x Reader Word count: 2,218

Read on AO3

Sitting back in your computer chair, you groaned. On the screen in front of you, a blank page taunted you. That little black cursor just blinked over and over. Was it trying to drive you insane? “This is bullshit.” You muttered to yourself. Running your hand through your hair, you couldn’t decide if you wanted to cry, punch something, or just shut down your computer and walk away. None of those options sounded good enough.

“Babe, I’m home!” Came the voice of Bucky, your boyfriend of four years.

“In here!” You called out, feeling stuck in place. Letting your head lean back against the little pillow on your chair, you closed your eyes. Maybe he’d have a suggestion.

Finally, you heard the tell tale sound of him making his way towards your little office. Okay, it was a walk-in closet that you’d turned into a “writing nook” when you moved in together three years prior. “There’s my girl.” He sounded so proud, even now. It made you smile slightly. “Are you trying to write via mind control? Because as cool as that sounds, it doesn’t look like it’s working.” He teased.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “If it did, you’d see a lot of foul language on that screen.” You looked over at him as he moved to stand next to you.

“Rough day?” He rubbed his hand over your shoulders.

“Rough last few months.” You said sadly.

Bucky frowned. You hadn’t mentioned anything to him about it, always hoping it would pass. “How about I get you out of the house for a couple hours, and you can tell me about it?” He offered you his hand.

You chewed on your lip for a moment, and caved when he fake pouted. “Only because you’re cute.” You took his hand and got up. “And it’ll still be more productive than me just sitting here…” You mused. “Let me go get some shoes on.” You kissed his cheek, giggling at the scruff.

“I love that sound.” He grinned, pulling you close. “How’s Mexican sound? We can try that place that just opened up downtown.”

You scrunched your nose. “Every time we pass it it’s really busy.” You countered. “Can we just go to Bertolli’s and get some pizza?” You batted your eyelashes at him.

“If my girl wants pizza, pizza she gets.” He pecked the tip of your nose before turning you towards the door and giving your backside a pat. “I’ll meet you downstairs.”

You were so thankful for Bucky. He could always cheer you up, and always supported you. It meant the world to you. He never made you feel silly for writing for your favorite shows and movies. Sure, he hadn’t really gotten it when you first told him about it, but he came around. Now he would even proofread for you sometimes, or help when you were stuck. He was perfect.

Bucky watched you go for a minute before typing “ I love you. ” on your computer for whenever you went to write again. With a smile, he shut the light off and left the little nook.

“So, talk to me.” Bucky looked at you, sipping his soda. “What’s been going on the past few months?”

Licking some sauce off your lips, you shrugged. “I really haven’t been able to write.” You told him honestly.

“Writer's block? I mean, I can provide some inspiration.” He flirted, wiggling his eyebrows.

You shook your head, chuckling lightly. “Not exactly. I get ideas, plenty of them. I get so excited, but then I sit down…and nothing. When I do write, I don’t finish the story. I’m lucky to finish a chapter.” You explained. “I used to be able to just write, and write, and write. I loved it, and I miss it so fucking much!” It was obvious how frustrated you were, and he remained quiet, letting you get this out. “And I loved the community, too. Ya know? But at some point, I feel that people just stopped reading. I’ll be lucky if just a couple people read, and that hurts. I put so much into my work, but why make that effort if no one cares? I know, I know ‘write for yourself’ or some shit, but all it does is remind me that no one wants to read my work anymore.” You shrugged a shoulder. “It hurts.” You said softly.

He reached over and took your hand. “What you’re feeling is completely valid.” He assured you. “It sucks that they don’t read like they did. It’s also their loss. I love your work.” He smiled. “What do you think I read when I can’t sleep? Or I know you’re napping while I’m on my lunch break?” When your eyes went wide, he chuckled. “Surprised?”

“I am!” You nodded. “I had no idea.” He’d never even hinted! “Do the guys at work know?!” Your cheeks felt hot at the thought of his coworkers- and friends ( your friends!)- knowing.

“You’re fucking adorable.” Bucky beamed. “I don’t think so. I don’t hide it, though.” He shrugged. “But I doubt they’re reading over my shoulder.”

You relaxed slightly at that. “Okay.” You took another bite of your pizza.

“Have you thought about writing a book?” He wondered, making you raise an eyebrow at him. “You’re a really good writer, babe. I think you’d kill it. Or, ya know, your characters.” It was a running joke that you enjoyed murdering your characters a little too much. When he would proofread he would ask which was getting offed.

“Oh, wow. No.” Shaking your head quickly, you hoped that was the end of it. “Writing for characters that already exist is easy. I just come up with scenarios.”

“And you make whoever is reading feel so many emotions. Maybe take your work that you’ve already done, edit it, change some names, a few places, and bam! A book of short stories by a future best selling author.” He grinned, saying it like it was the best idea ever. “Think about it. You have hundreds, if not thousands, of stories to choose from. Hell, some of those stories have a lot of chapters to them. You could flesh those out a bit and have a book.”

Swallowing, you gave him a small smile. “I never wanted my hobby to be my job.” You pointed out. “What you’re saying makes sense, and it could work, but..”

“But? How about you think about it? Don’t try to write for a week or two. Work on other things you like, and we can take a little vacation next weekend. Either you’ll still not like the idea, you’ll love it, or maybe you’ll just miss writing so much that something will come to you.” He encouraged. “Deal?”

After a moment, you nodded. “Deal.” You agreed. “Maybe I’m stuck because I’m trying to force it?” You mused.

Bucky nodded. “That could be it, too.” He gave your hand a squeeze before letting go. “I hope this helps you relax, either way. Let’s enjoy the rest of this pizza, get home, and enjoy a bubble bath.”

You snorted. “I love how you’re all tough but will always be down for a bubble bath!” You grinned.

“Can you blame me?” He chuckled. “I get to relax with my girl.”

“This is the fourth shelter we’ve been to, Buck.” Steve sighed. “We have seen a lot of really cute animals I’m sure she would love.” He went on, hands on his hips, as he faced his best friend.

Bucky shot him a look before it softened. “I just want our first pet to be perfect.” He pointed out.

“Then why am I here, instead of her?” He teased.

“Because our five year anniversary is coming up. I want to propose…and give her a pet.” He finally admitted. “I was gonna tie a ribbon with the ring around the furball’s neck. Or is that stupid? That’s stupid, right?”

Steve’s eyebrows shot up at that. “Is that why you asked Nat and Wanda to take her on a girl’s day today to get ‘pampered’?” He asked. “And no. Not stupid. Kinda surprised you came up with that, honestly.”

“Ha. Ha.” He shook his head. “And technically, I didn’t. Y/N has been writing again, and sure…she still has the violence, and angst that can even make me feel like a 13 year old girl watching the Notebook for the first time…but it’s got so much love in parts now. She wrote out this really romantic scene. Thought I’d recreate it for her. Flowers, a pet, proposing.” He ran a hand through his hair.

“I’m happy for you.” He grinned. “I still don’t get why you won’t tell me where I can read her work, though. You always talk about how good it is.”

He shrugged. “I think she’s worried about you guys reacting badly to it.” He slowly walked through the cages, knowing your heart would break if you were there. You’d want them all. Hell, if he was richer, he would say sure. But he wasn’t rich, sadly. “I’ll talk to her.” He promised, crouching in front of a cage with a white cat on it’s back. “Comfy?” He chuckled, putting his finger through the bars of the cage. As the white cat got up, he smiled, watching it come over to scratch itself on his finger. “I think my girl would love you.” He just felt that cat was the perfect one for them. “Let me go ask about adopting you…” He scanned the tag. “Alpine.” Standing up, he crossed his fingers that it worked out.

“I’m home!” You called out as you walked in the front door. “Something smells amazing in here.” You noted. Hanging up your purse, you toed off your shoes before making your way towards the kitchen.

Bucky stepped out right before you reached it, making you stop. “Meet me in the dining room? It’s almost done, and I want to serve it to you.”

“I think I can do that. If I can get a kiss first.” You said playfully.

“Like I could turn that down. Hopefully more than just kissing later?” He grinned, making you laugh.

Slapping his arm gently, you pecked his lips. “I think that can be arranged…” You flirted.

As you headed towards the dining room, he watched, biting his lip. He was nervous, but excited. Hopefully, he’d be holding you close that night as his fiance. He rushed back into the kitchen to go to the back porch to get Alpine. It had been fun trying to get that ribbon tied, because she kept trying to play with it. Crouching, he scooped her up. “Show time, Alpine.” He scratched her, enjoying how she rubbed against his jaw, purring.

You glanced over when you saw the door to the kitchen open. However, when you didn’t see Bucky, but a fluffy white cat, you gasped. “Hello, there.” You slid off the chair to pet her. “Aren’t you beautiful?” You pet her, missing the ring. Her fur hid it well.

“Her name is Alpine.” Bucky told you, carrying in a glass of wine for you, and a beer for him. “She has something for you.”

Your eyes went to the cat. “Do you?” You giggled. “What would that be?” You tilted your head, trying to figure out what it could be. That’s when it hit you, and you untied the ribbon around her neck. Finally, the ring came into view, falling into your hand. “Bucky?” You looked to your boyfriend.

“Marry me?” He asked, hopeful.

“Yes!” You giggled, getting up to rush over to him. “A million times yes!”

Taking the ring from you, he slipped it on your finger. “I need to thank Stevie. He helped so much with picking the ring, and driving around to find Alpine today.” He admitted, a bit bashfully.

You grinned, admiring your ring. “It’s gorgeous. And really, planning this off my fic?” You giggled.

“I was hoping it would make it that much more special for you.” He wrapped his arm around your waist.

“It really did.” You leaned into him. “I can’t wait to tell everyone I’m marrying the best guy ever!” You had no idea that he had been planning on proposing. “But, for tonight, I want to celebrate with my fiance !”

“Oh my God, I’m so glad you’re home!” You rushed to your fiance.

“Where’s the fire?” He steadied himself as you all but tackled him.

You shook your head. “A story I posted just yesterday has over ten-thousand hits, and everyone loves it!” You were all but bouncing up and down.

“Holy shit, that’s amazing!” He hugged you. “I didn’t get a chance to read it today, clearly. Is it one that I proofread for you?”

“Nope. This was a special surprise I wrote for you.” It was your turn to be a bit nervous. “It’s a short one, so how about you read that while I go finish prepping for dinner?” You suggested. When he nodded, pulling out his phone, you kissed his cheek and rushed off.

It wasn’t even five minutes later when you heard him. “You’re pregnant?!” He exclaimed, clearly excited. You couldn’t wait for so much new inspiration as you created your lives together.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader oneshot #bucky barnes x reader oneshot

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astonmartinii · 2 days

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F1 ASKS!

i saw this tag floating around and wanted to let yall get to know me better since i’ve been doing this a while and have only really spoken in the form of authors notes! also im not going to tag anyone so just do it if you wanna!

who is your favourite driver?

i think for anyone who has read anything i’ve ever written it’s probably a bit obvious but max verstappen! what can i say little me was told we’re supporting red bull and here was this little charmer (emphasis on little who let that child get into an F1 car)

do you have other favourite drivers?

also based on my writing you can probably tell that my top three are max, charles and oscar! however, i will also say that alex is a close fourth for me (he’s also very nice irl). also as for retired drivers i think the mamma mia series is a bit of a spoiler but i love jenson, seb and kimi

who is your least favourite driver?

i used to say i didn’t dislike anyone on the grid - that was a lie. i’ll still write for anyone within reason but you can also probably tell with how in detail the back and forth is on certain pieces that i am really not a fan of sainz, actually people who get yelled at while i write them would argue it’s more than “not really being a fan of” but i am fake and i have maintained that if i meet him at silverstone (which i very nearly did last year) ill tell him im his biggest fan! also not the biggest fan of like pierre he’s just kinda there for me and a wee bit too cringey ALSO what you may not be able to guess from how i write him… im not really a fan of lando! ive really, really tried especially after his win but he just kinda rubs me the wrong way (i was immediately proven right with the trump comments lol). people say i should pull for him cause he’s from bristol which is where i live but he’s from glastonbury babe - also ive done a few swimming competitions at the school he went to a WOAH baby has so much money.

do you pull for drivers or do you like teams as well?

i mostly pull for drivers but like i guess i like red bull? well i did. i love max so i would follow him everywhere but i did like red bull as well as a team (i like alex, danny and checo so that also helps) but this whole protection of christian horner shtick is really disappointing so id say im a driver person.

if you like teams, who do you pull for?

like i said red bull were the team id pick if i HAD to follow a team - i support chelsea so i cant handle even more disappointment if i followed ferrari and also i only like charles there and they’re the source of all of his misfortune so …

how long have you been into F1?

so my family has always been into F1, my cousin karts and my uncle is a mechanic and makes karts on the side but i had always been more into football cause i could actually go to that with my dad - and also for young me who didn’t know what the fuck a strategy was it seemed kinda boring. but i’d say from maybe 2016ish i started watching it more regularly (hence the max stanship). my mum loves it and her first love in the sport was mark webber which is why we like red bull. but yeah i remember watching max’s first win and was like MUM I WANT THAT ONE (and i have technically met him? idk we made eye contact when his taxi nearly ran over my foot)

what got you into F1?

my mum! i love her and she’s just as much a passionate fan (and hater when appropriate) so it’s a nice thing to do together - especially because me and my dad are season ticket holders at chelsea so spend a lot of time together doing that so this is like my sport time with my mum (along with the olympics that’s our shit we’re very excited for the swimming). so i guess it was being around her watching it and listening to her and my dad argue about it! my mum is an ardent seb supporter and my dad is like a twitter account away from being in teamLH so canada 2018 (2019?) was VERY entertaining. also my uncle loves it so he likes that im proper into it (like have a sports journalism degree) and so we always chat about it - he’s trying to recruit me into motogp next

do you enjoy fanfic/RPF?

i mean i’ve written so much i must love it. lol jokes i do enjoy it and i feel like it helps me like people more (case in point: when i was trying to make myself enjoy the lando win i just read my own fics of him LOL)

but also its something fun to do that’s also creative and has helped me make new friends from all over

how do you view new fans?

ugh i hate the hate new fans get like not everyone can be born into loving a sport? if anything the more people that watch and love the sport the more money it’ll make? idk this whole superiority complex some fans have is just so unneeded for the sport and we all know why is majorly directed at girls. i do fear that some of the new fan behaviours could border on worrying - waiting outside hotels and ambushing drivers is stalking actually!

but overall im always happy to have new people in a sport - a bigger community is always good and new fans bring new perspectives which is good as older fans may just be desensitised to “normal” things in the sport but new eyes can remind them - hey halos are the best thing to happen to F1 and red flags in heavy rain are necessary.

if you could take over as any team principal for any team who would it be and why?

i know i previously dunked on ferrari but there needs to be an intervention because my girly max already has three championships and i need charles to get at least one so i can die happy - then ill move to mclaren, kick zak brown up the ass get a piastri championship and bounce (honourary race with willams or whatever team alex is with cause i need all three 2019 rookies to be race winners)

are your friends and family into F1 as well?

i feel like my other answers answered this but yeah! i also recently reconnected with an old primary school friend who is also really into it. i went to a sports uni so basically everyone there liked it as well (which means me and a friend did trek to the F1 arcade at 4am to watch aus 23 where she had a public meltdown over sainz (i enjoyed it)). also ive made a couple friends through working at races!

are you open to talking to other fans/making friends?

i always am! i am a year out of uni and working from home with all my home friends still at uni after taking gap years so i am big time lonely so always feel free to slide into my messages!

#f1 imagine #max verstappen #charles leclerc #oscar piastri #alex albon #ferrari #f1 #formula one #formula1 #tag

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sseniita · 8 hours

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your mom

The villain’s first thought took him by surprise.

Those are her eyes.

The child must have been one or two years away from high school, and yet her round cheeks and the way she played with the hem of her sleeves could have said otherwise. The villain didn’t recognize where the young girl’s dark brown hair or freckles came from- surely the hero didn’t have freckles? Did she? A surge of panic ran through the villain as the features of the hero’s face became warped and foggy in his mind.

“Absolutely not.” He said. The child pouted in response, flashing him a weak and pathetic mockery of the hero’s puppy eyes.

That’s her face, you faker.

“This isn’t fair.”

“Nothing is fair. Go home.”

The villain had noticed someone was tailing him recently, he had assumed some amateur journalist or paparazzi (no difference, really) was the culprit before she made herself known by sneaking in with his cleaning crew into his office. Hero’s daughter was kept as a strict secret, as far as he knew only himself and the child’s late grandmother knew about her.

“You have to help me.”

“And why’s that?” It was getting harder and harder to be civil with the trespassing child.

“Mom said you’d help me!”

The villain’s neck was beginning to strain looking down at her.

“The hero was an optimist. She saw and felt things that were never there. Any sense of camaraderie you think we had didn’t ever exist.” He didn’t mean to sneer, it simply came out that way.

The child laughed, a sarcastic, exhausted thing. She sounded like her too.

“You would have never known about me if that were true.”

“She could never keep a secret. Always jumpy. It took less than lazy observation to know.”

The villain, in fact, knew from the moment she was born. He was there. The hero had been conveniently taken hostage by the villain for five months right when she started showing and three months after for recovery, he hadn’t seen the child since. The villain wouldn’t ever admit it, but they were eight months of pure bliss. The hero’s pregnancy was pleasant, she handled it very well up until her last month when she needed the villain for every menial task. After abandoning her abusive diet and workout schedule she finally gained some healthy weight (although lost most of it a month into heroism) and began to sleep a much needed eight hours a night. For the first time since they met, she went back to being a shiny and sparkling thing, all smiles and rosy cheeks, pure indulgence and excitement.

The villain almost caught himself smiling at the memories before his gaze focussed back on the tiny monster in his office.

“Go home.”

“I can’t.” She said, copying his own demanding tone; slight pauses between words, emphasis on the important parts. “I have nowhere to go, the house was taken over by some people wanting to make it some messed up Hero museum. Grandma passed away, no one even knows I exist, and there is no way in hell I’m going back to the orphanage” She rummaged through the duffle at her side, the villain assumed it contained everything she owned. She pulled out a beige card with the hero’s writing in blue ink.

As the villain read, the child blabbered.

“You guys were friends, and I don’t believe you killed her like the news says. Mom talked about you all the time! She mentioned that she trusted you over and over again. You have to help me!”

The villain couldn’t tell who the card was addressed to. It wasn’t signed to anyone and spoke ambiguously about love and trust and other disgusting things, the girl had assumed the card was supposed to be for him. The villain, albeit embarrassingly, wanted to believe that.

“This isn’t for me.”

“Of course it was!”

“She’d never speak like this. Especially to me.”

“Well I certainly have no use for it. My mom loved me. I don’t need a lousy card to know it. She knew that too. But I don’t think she was brave enough to ever tell you-”

“You shouldn’t speak about things you know nothing about.” This, he hoped, was laced with venom.

“I dunno Mr. Doom and Gloom, you didn’t have to hear her go on and on about a secret crush she had rooftop fights with.”

Dear lord, Hero. I don’t know whether to be angry at you for not saying something, or at myself for never noticing.

He recognized how immature and childish his hope was. The only woman he’d ever loved was dead, and hearing now they had the illusion of a chance from her very own daughter was a worse heartbreak than if she just rejected him outright.

They always had a weird relationship. A complex, fluttering thing that consisted of fistfights (regardless of powers; the villain considered it intimate, the hero considered it sexy), partnerships of planning and scheming, and being public representations of compliance and deviancy, the good and the dirty, love and hate.

Somewhere along the line it had become late nights at diners, comfort in close proximity, a head on a shoulder, a hand on the back. The flirting, the teasing, the stares. The all-holy casual hookups.

The villain knew he was screwed when she came to his apartment late at night, drenched by the rain, mascara running down her cheeks.

Villain, I need your help. I’m pregnant.

The timing revealed Hero’s fling, it had been months after a fight that led them to ‘strict fighting terms’ it all broke down as fast as hero did in the villain’s arms.

But she was gone now, buried in a government cemetery surrounded by hundreds of now wilting bouquets and dusty gifts. And yet, the innocent joy of reciprocation flushed through his body. He allowed himself one more denial. Just to be safe.

“Perhaps it was for your father.” The child laughed at this, more genuine amusement than it was self deprecating, the villain didn’t blame her. He knew from the second he said it how stupid it sounded.

“Good one. Anyways. Help me kill Supervillain.”

Dejectedly, the villain plopped down at his desk chair, signalling the young girl to do the same on the chair across the desk. The girl happily obliged. “Here’s what I’m thinking, we disguise ourselves as post office men-”

“Wait wait wait. Be quiet for five seconds.” The villain found himself massaging his temples. “Your mother wanted one thing for you. And that explicitly included staying out of the business. I’ll get you a room with someone I trust. Lie low for now, I’ll send you off to a boarding school or something until you turn eighteen.”

“What? No! I want to help you bring down the supervillain.”

“Trust me, I can do that myself. You need to go back to the orphanage.”

“I hate it there! I have things to do! I need to avenge my mom and that means killing the supervillain myself.”

The villain was beginning to wonder if the child was a clone rather than a daughter. Perhaps the brown hair was just box dye. She had an edge she’d only seen in his hero, a bright star deep in the colour of her eyes, an unmatched amount of life inside her. The hero had passed away a little over two months ago and her daughter was immediately on the run. She must have known how important it was to stay hidden. When was the last time she had a full sleep?

“Look, Lily, I get it. But your mother will rise from her grave if she knew I got you hurt.” The villain ignored the shock on the girl’s face at the mention of her name.

Your mom wouldn’t stop talking about me, well I guess we were on the same boat then.

"Even better, I think." She joked. Of course only your daughter would joke at a time like this.

“You need time. You need to rest. I can offer you safety. I can promise you that when the time comes to kill Supervillain, it’ll be done as far away from you as possible. Your mother would never forgive you if you ever even touched the handle of a gun. Please, at least give her that.”

Lily was her mother’s spitting image. Her curls didn’t hold without product, her big brown eyes hid underneath long lashes. Her cheeks would stay round well into adulthood, and they both picked nervously at their nails. But when she finally lifted her head and met the villain’s eyes, he swore he saw a glimpse of himself in them.

“Make it slow.”

The villain smiled.

“Naturally.”

#hero x villain #villain x hero #writing #original fiction #hero and villain #enemies to lovers #i love a father!villain #if i could write only about villain parents #i would #love u all #this was supposed to be for mothers day #but hero is dead...#so maybe not i think #not proofread

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noskipnotability · 2 days

Text

Artificially Breezed Picnic

Prof!Al x Prof!Reader

they’re back!!!! I love these two with all my heart!! I don’t think it’s as long of a fic this time, but I hope you still enjoy. much love jay xx

The patterned rug unveiled its image as you unrolled it from where it waited in the corner of the room. The design was a mixture of black and white over a rose backdrop. You can vaguely remember finding it at a charity shop with Alex when you furniture shopping after buying your first home together; the same one you love and cherish to this day.

Your lecture ended a quarter of an hour ago, and now you were waiting patiently for your husband to complete his own. Unlike many others, today's indoor picnic was planned with many tortured dishes reminding you this morning as you readied for the day.

Alex wore the apron you had so jokingly bought him for Christmas a couple of years ago, but kept as a personal prized possession of a strangely fond memory. In a large font on the front it read 'I like my butt rubbed and pork pulled'. The look on his face was priceless as he unwrapped the apron in front of his close family that winter morning. He tried hiding it from his poor elders, but they insisted too much for him to show them. You were laughing so hard at the shy boy he became, so worried what they might think, that he didn't see them laughing along. He only joined in when you wrapped your arms around him and kissed his cheek that he snapped out of his embarrassment.

A record played faintly from the sitting room as he danced with his hips rocking at the stove. He turned to carry the pan to a bowl on the countertop, but paused when he saw you in the doorway. In a flash, he was pushing you out of the kitchen and to the settee to wait until he was done. Like always, he wanted your meal for the event to be a surprise for him to reveal the next day, something he was proud to display to the one he loved.

As you were preparing breakfast this morning you couldn't help but feel an urge to peak into the weaved basket in the fridge, but managed to resist for the sake of your husband's happiness.

You laid out the book you both agreed on last night in the corner and the small deck of cards which you would always play with after you'd finished eating or if a student came in for a quick escape or question, inviting them to play with you both.

A few of your kids had gotten used to seeing the two of you laid out on the rug, delving into some weirdly elaborate meal for a workday lunch, shoulders clashing or one of you laid in the arms of the other as you read, or you both engaged in an intense game. If it was the latter, you would greet them happily and welcome them to join (Alex more than you, surprisingly enjoying extra company despite usually hating it), otherwise helping with whatever they need so they could break free from your cheesiness as quick as possible.

The door slammed closed to show your man with his back against the wood, wide eyes, and a smirk prevalent. He sighed dramatically, "Almost didn't escape them. Little demons, I swear."

You chuckled at his theatrics as he rushed over to you in excitable steps, set the basket down absentmindedly, and wrapped you in the tightest of hugs. Pulling back to get a good look at him, you start peppering his tired face in small pecks (paying close attention to the lines forming their new permanent home) and whisper lowly, "They're not much younger, my love. They don't like us calling them little."

His smirk morphs to a goofy smile, "I know... maybe I'm projecting my own age onto them. I felt like an eighty year old man trying to walk up all those stairs to get here."

"Why wouldn't you just take the elevator, Al?"

His face stills in thought for a second and his brows crease as his eyes return to your, "Didn't cross my mind," he shrugs.

You knock your forehead to his in a laugh, "For such a smart man, you can sure be stupid sometimes."

He pulls you to a love filled kiss and with clouded thoughts responds, "That's why I have you. It's better that way."

A cold gust blows under the crack in the door and the sound of the air conditioning flicking on grumbles out an irritating melody as you pull apart from each other. He takes your hand to guide you to sit on the rug as he follows suit. He sits, crossed legged, right beside you. His right half pressed against your left and his hand grazed yours as he reached with the other for the basket. It only left to pull out the amazing dishes he prepared last night.

In a large dish was a grand helping of his favourite, penne all'arrabbiata. He scooped out a spoonful onto each of your battered plastic plates you brought for each picnic, God forbid you bring your fragile dishes for them to only break. In a Thermos container was a coffee ice cream from a local company you found at the corner store one evening that had become your go to dessert most nights.

Alex lays his head onto your shoulder the moment your plates are cleared and cups are drained of the sparkling water. Between your smushed bodies lies the book you’d chosen for the day, already halfway through from starting it before bed last night, his hand grazed the edge of the page as he waited to finish reading the words. You were always a faster reader than him and he’d find quickly there wasn’t a need to wait on you before turning the page.

He would occasionally push up his reading glasses he’d snuck on before opening the book and would sniffle each time the breeze from the AC would brush through the room. You’d forced him to wrap himself up in your coat that hung off the back of your chair and he would take hold of the sides and tug them a bit closer each time.

It wasn’t long until you would have to separate and go back to working, but in this moment you could so easily lose track of time, huddled up with your husband in the coldness as the sun shines through your dark curtains. And it felt too long until the day would be over and one of you would sneak into the others room and trap them in their arms as they graded work or prepared their next lesson.

#alex turner #arctic monkeys #alex turner x reader #alex turner fluff #alex turner x y/n

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ottpopfic · 2 days

Text

Asteroids

---

Leo is alive, and Jason is alive. Because this time it stuck

And it continued to stick, for years

And Leo tried his best not to take it for granted, he would take Jason in any way he could. He loved him, he knew he did, he loved him back to life over and over again in his fool's errand. Leo didn't question why Jason did it back, he didn't really care as long as this time it just continued to stick

It was like an orbit, for years. Two asteroids in space, flying through the darkness around each other, unwilling to let go of their shared gravitational field because they were finally there together. It didn't matter if Piper was going to disown him from the pining, as long as it continued to stick. If all he could have was the orbit then Leo would take what he could get

Leo's anxiety spiked when he didn't know where Jason was. He knew he felt the same by the look in his eyes when he arrived back home to the Way Station. They shared a room, but not a bed. Jason always wanted to be touching him in some way. It became natural, the everyday norm, but Leo was too scared to jinx it by confessing. To tempt this hair's breadth of an opportunity that maybe this time the fates would just let him have him

He knew it wasn't healthy, he couldn't help it

They orbited for ages, but gravity kept pulling them closer with each rotation. It took them three years for their flight paths to finally crash into each other

It was close in time to when Jason died for the first time, when Leo was gone warning Camp Jupiter and the other man was on his quest. Jason is at Camp Jupiter and Leo had held the stress of it in his jaw all week, trying to distract himself through the sleepless nights. When Jason finally made it back to him it was with a rough landing

Leo was the only one awake, sometime around four or five am. He heard Jason hit the roof, and the Way Station tumbled the blond into the main room without much fanfare. The larger man lies on the ground outside the workstation with a groan

“Jesus Christ dude you good?” Leo asks, pulling his welding mask up and turning off the torch. Jason just rolls over onto his back to starfish on the ground and groans again

Leo takes a moment to get off his welding gloves and shut down the station, the last thing they need is a fire. It also gives him a beat to collect himself, he knows he's been a sleepless wreck. By the time he's done and turns back around Jason is watching him with lightning focus

“What?” he asks, whipping welding grime and sweat off his arms and face. Jason licks his lips

“Come ‘mer” he calls, and makes a grabby hands at him

“Did you hit your head again” Leo teases, but he goes to him anyway “What the hell was that landing?”

“It's like five AM” Jason mumbles, reaching for Leo and pulling him down onto the floor with him “I've been up since six AM yesterday, cut me some slack”

[read more AO3]

“Why are you flying if you've been awake eleven hours?” Leo asks concerned as he kneels down next to the blond “That can't be safe”

“I didn't want you to be alone tomorrow,” he says, rolling towards Leo like a flower following the sun “I didn't want to be without you”

Tomorrow, the anniversary of Jason's first real death.

Leo feels his heart clench in his chest, the tension in his jaw makes it pop. The date he's been trying not to think about, that he was trying to overwork himself through. It's been six years and neither of them has ever handled it with much grace. And here Jason is, flying stupid from California to make sure they were together for it. To make sure Leo knows where he is

“Come on man,” Leo says instead of what he wants to say, pulling Jason into a sitting position by his arms “Let's get you to bed”

“Come with me,” Jason begs, he looks a bit loopy from fatigue

“Jase-”

“I was talking to Piper, about us,” Jason presses on, pulling Leo closer from where their arms are connected

“What about us?” Leo lets himself go to him, ever in orbit, even as the hot lump of dread settles in his gut

“It's been years,” Jason pulls him onto his lap on the floor, Leo’s scrawny legs on either side of Jason's muscular thighs “We’re not going anywhere”

“How do you know that?” Leo hisses, worried that even talking about it could set the cycle in motion again. Because he knows in his bones if the world decides they still have to play prophecy, if it goes back to storm or fire, Leo would do it all again. He would keep trying, chasing instead of running for the first time in his life

Jason trails his hands up from where they interlock, resting on Leo's upper arms cool and firm. He's studying Leo's face, that look of devotion back in his eyes. Because as much as Leo denies it, as much as he pretends it's not there; Jason speaks best through action, and his actions have been telling Leo that he loves him back for a long time.

It scares Leo, more than a little bit.

“I don't,” Jason confesses “I don't know that. But we're here now?”

“Is that what Piper was saying?”

“No,” he grins, that one that shows a single canine and makes his scar pull attractively “She's back to cussing us out in frustration”

“So same old?”

“Same old,” Jason licks his lips again “But she mentioned something, about three being the lucky number. It got me thinking”

“About us?”

“About us”

Six years since the first death, three years since the last one.

“What about us?” Leo presses, voice quiet like maybe this time something larger than them won't hear

“That it's been so long,” Jason's gaze is intense on his face “That we’re still here. That we can have, more”

“More?”

“Leo” his hands are on his shoulders, solid and sure, he's getting lost in the possibility of those blue eyes “I want more, more of us”

It's the first time they've spoken about it, out loud. It almost blows Leo over.

He can't help it, Leo kisses him. Two asteroids in the same gravitational field, slamming into each other and becoming something new. A planet, a moon or star, it didn't matter as long as they were together

Jason clutches at Leo like he can't believe he's real, like that time when Leo had just gotten him back for good. His grip was tight and rough, first clutching at his upper arms, then pulling him in impossibly tighter by the waist until one hand made it up to the nape of Leo's neck to hold on. Leo opens wider, his hold on the other man's jaw pulling him closer as Jason groans

When they reluctantly separate for oxygen, faces close and breathing the same air, Leo can feel himself trembling

“Leo” Jason breaths “Leo Leo Leo”

“M’ right here” he breaths back, voice soft like it would break the bubble there in, tell the fates they broke spades, and Jason brings him into the next kiss as desperate as the first

They kiss like that for a while, trying to merge the shattered remains of their collision into their new celestial body together. Bruising grips on each other, mouths only separating to grasp for air. Leo feels drunk on the other man, the feel of him and the smell of heat lightning, the pattern of his heartbeat against his own. Alive and whole, safe in his arms.

Leo eventually has to pull away as he overheats. He brings his face as far away as he can to pant out into the open air, the temperature of his breath is visible and fire licking up his face and into his hair. Jason isn't detoured, pressing his face into Leo's neck. He licks a long stripe against the femoral artery, nips under his jaw, and then presses his nose hard against his pulse point.

Leo’s being reeled back in my strong arms before he's done venting out the heat. He can feel how his internal temperature is scalding, but Jason acts like he's desperate to get broiled alive. He has one arm around Leo's waist and the other snaking up his shirt, hand splayed between his wing bones holding him as close as he can. Leo turns his face away to continue to try and pant out the heat, sucking the cooler night air into his lungs and letting his breath steam out of him. That just gives Jason more access to his neck, and Leo can't stifle the low moan that's forced out of him when the blond clamps his teeth around where his collarbone dips from his shoulder and sucks.

“Jace,” he pants out, he's going to catch fire at this point “Jace, Jason please”

Jason whines again, one of the feral noises he does high and desperate, and goes back to nipping. Leo has to grab the other man by the hair to pull him back so he can let his face catch fire again, the only part of his body not flush with him. Jason doesn't look afraid, pupils blown wide and expression filled with awe. A few sparks of static dance between the strands of his blond hair, one inside his open and panting mouth. As soon as Leo stops smoking Jason is back to kissing him

“I'm gonna burn you” Leo whines into his mouth

“No you won't,” Jason says back just as close, the blind trust and longing make Leo moan into him

“You won't” Jason continues, kissing back down Leo's neck and towards his chest. Leo takes the opportunity to throw his head back and try and vent more heat “You won't, I'm always safe with you”

“Fuck, Jace”

“Gods, you're here” Jason pleads, his forehead pushing hard above Leo's heart. He can probably feel his rabbiting pulse against his face, he's still trying to pull Leo closer “You're really here like this , I'm not dreaming “

Leos folds himself over the curl of Jason's body, hand moving over his hair and neck and back, energy trapped in their dwindling momentum

“I'm here” he pants “You're here too”

“I'm here,” Jason says back looking up to meet Leo's eyes but not taking his face off his heart. His cheek is pressed in against Leo's chest, eyes looking up and pleading. Leo smooths his hands through Jason's hair and then down the side of his jaw and back up again. The blond lets out a sigh and folds back into Leo's chest. His face pressed above his heart, breathing him in through his nose.

They stay like that for a while, curled and clutched close. Leo's hand in Jason's hair and Jason's face in Leo's chest, until Leo folds down to rest his forehead against the top of Jason's head, breathing him in in return

A single celestial body orbiting a gravitational pull. Together in the new planet of their own making

#valgrace #leo valdez #jason grace #getting together #good future au #fic #my fic #pjo #pjo hoo toa #percy jackson

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