#but I will say from what I’ve seen it’s just really exhausting
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The Man 7
Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.
My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.
Character: mob!Lloyd Hansen
Summary: a demanding customer complicates more than your work life.
As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️
“Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow,” you utter with each step, the pinch of Floyd’s-- Lloyd’s hand digging into your neck.
“Shut up,” he growls as he as good as drags you.
You walk on your toes, scurrying to keep up. You cling to his wrist to keep your balance as the witnesses turn their heads away. What the heck? What is going on? No one’s going to help you?
“Get in,” he opens a car door and push you so you nearly ding your head on the side.
You catch yourself on the metal and carefully duck down, only for him to shove on your head and slam the door. You compress yourself in the seat as he stomps around the hood. Jeez, that sort of anger isn’t good for you.
He drops into the driver’s side and hits the steering wheel, his anger brimming through flared nostrils. You watch him nervously, waiting for him to explode. It’s like you can see the fuse burning, getting shorter and shorter as he tries to calm himself.
“I’m done talking,” he snarls and sits back heavily. He pulls at his belt buckle as he lifts himself above the seat. “You’re going to use that mouth for something good. I don’t wanna hear another word.”
He pushes his fly open as the buckle tinks and you cringe as he shoves down the elastic of his sleek leopard print briefs. Wow, very 70s of him. He rolls the fabric down his thighs as his dick springs free and you put your hand over your lips, hiding a smile as you snort.
He lowers himself and snarls over at you, “are you laughing?”
“N-no. Well, yes, but I just think... they kinda look funny, don’t they?” You poke your finger up to mimic his hard length. “Boing.”
“What is wrong with you?” He sneers. “How many have you even seen?”
“You know, I’ve been on the internet. I’m a child of the digital age so... probably too many.”
“Jesus, shut the fuck up,” he grabs the back of your head and jerks you towards him, “look, sweet lips, do yourself a favour and stop resisting.”
“Um, favour?” You reach out to grab the steering wheel, fighting to stay away from his lap, “I... I got dry mouth. I can’t--”
“Just open up,” he grunts, shoving on you. He’s strong.
Your arm bends and you collapse onto him, headbutting his dick as you do. You shake your head as you raise it and he suppresses a whimper. He fists your hair and pulls you up, jarring your head back violently.
“Fuck off,” he grits out, “open your damn mouth. And no teeth.”
“Look, I really am not in that kinda mood--”
“I’m about to break your teeth, cupcake. Are you gonna keep arguing?”
You blink at him and weigh a life time of smoothies and broth. His eyes narrow and you gulp. You squeeze your lips tight and try to dip your chin down. He slackens his grip just enough for you to make eye contact with his tip.
Whew, okay, right, you’ve seen some things on The Hub. It can’t be that hard. Figuratively. Literally, it does look pretty hard.
You shudder and suck in a breath. Well, here goes nothing. This isn’t really how you saw your first-time but nothing’s really gone to plan, has it?
You lick your lips and open your mouth as you bring your hand around to grip him. Thick, you think. Looks and feels like it. But the skin, so smooth. You didn’t expect that. You face down the great dragon, throbbing up at you, you will vanquish your foe.
You lower yourself down and hover your lips above his swollen head. You stick your tongue off and flick it around his tip. He twitches and lets out a hiss. You try not to laugh. So sensitive. You press your lips around him and continue to swirl your tongue. You’re not super sure of what you’re doing but it feels right, even though the circumstance is very wrong.
You stretch your lips around him until your jaw aches. He’s gotta be big. Thinking about it, maybe thinking too much, he’s a lot like the men you see in your incognito searches. You’re no prude, you just haven’t found the right person. He’s definitely not the one but well... let’s not think about that.
You ease onto him, feeling him quiver as his breaths puff out slow and long. You take him deeper and deeper, pausing as he grazes the back of your throat. You inhale through your nostrils and try to rear back. He keeps a hold on you, urging you down.
Your throat strains around him as he forces his dick deeper. You nearly gag, your foot kicking the interior. You’re bent over the console, half-twisted, your shoulder bearing too much pressure for comfort. Your eyes water as you find yourself suffocated with his intrusion.
He holds you there until your quaking. He lets up and you pull off of him, coughing and hacking. He chuckles and releases your hair, petting your head.
“Go on.”
You close your eyes and tremble as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, the other still circled around him. You pump then put your lips around his tip. You flick your tongue around and around, taking him in gradually. You reach your limit then back up, dragging your hand in tandem with your mouth.
A saltiness spreads over your tongue and you press it along his base. He growls and his hand spreads across your crown. He leans back into the seat, extending his legs as far as they’ll go in the cramped space. You hear the leather of the steering wheel creak as he grips it tight as you pick up the pace. Hopefully if you go fast, it will be over soon.
“Slow-- sweet lips, hold up,” he rasps, “slow--” He yanks you off of him and hisses, slamming an open hand on the horn as he spasm and curses, “fuck! I said slow--” He lets go of you and contorts as he cradles his sack and squeezes his dick tight, a gush bursting from the tip, stringing down his knuckles and onto his pants. Those look expensive. “What the fuck? You went too fast.”
“I... I didn’t mean to. I just... I did my best,” you stick out your tongue and wipe it on your sleeve, “I never did that before so... my bad.”
He gapes at you then his eyes drift through the windshield. He shoots a passerby the finger as his little honk drew the attention of curious eyes. He growls and opens his hand, examining the sliminess across it.
“You made this mess,” he snarls, “better clean it up.”
Your brow creases and you shake your head, “you got kleenex?”
“With your goddamn mouth,” he barks and sits back. “Hurry up.”
You keep from looking out the window as humiliation seeps in. The realisation that a very private moment is on display makes you nauseous. You bend over his lap again, once more taking him in your hand.
“Good girl,” he purrs as your lips touch his skin, “gotta say, those hands are a lot quicker than that head.”
#lloyd hansen#dark lloyd hansen#dark!lloyd hansen#lloyd hansen x reader#the gray man#the man#drabbles#series#au#mob au
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I just checked what the Genshin community was up to on YouTube and…
good lord.
#talk away ⌞🍵🍋 ⌝#I’m not going to explain what’s going#your gonna have to look for yourself#but I will say from what I’ve seen it’s just really exhausting#I look away for one second#and now suddenly everyone is at each others throats#I’m just…gonna stay away from genshin YouTube for a while now#and will just stay on the tumblr side of the genshin community#and this was all over 3 intertwined fates mind you#genshin impact#Genshin drama#I will mention tho#For those who wanna look into this whole dumpster fire#it does include a lot of genshin CCs#take that as you will
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i saw a post awhile back saying people don’t want queer representation they want queer romance, and that really put words to how i feeling about shipping culture
like wednesday and enid stood in the same room together, didn’t even like each other , and people were screaming at the top of their lungs “MARRIAGE!!”
i think that’s fundamentally why we get so little representation of the trans community and the aro and ace spectrums, i still have yet to hear the word Aromantic on film or tv (i know there’s a tv show rn in i think japan that features a aroace lead i haven’t watched it yet) i’ve seen clips of shows here and there that use the word asexual so that’s good but from what i understand they’re alloace representation which still allows the characters to participate in romance (someone correct me if there’s aroace rep)
idk it’s all just exhausting
i really wish there was a stronger push for like queer people just existing in tv and film instead of the only option being romantic relationships
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Danny Punches a Clown part 2 I guess
shoutout to @that-random-fangirl
Masterpost
The batmobile pulls into the batcave as usual once they’re done dealing with the Joker’s hostage situation, but no one is celebrating at a job well done tonight. Because while the Joker is back in Arkham, for now, it wasn’t one of them that stopped him. While the rest of them dealt with the goons downstairs, Batman went up to where the Joker was supposed to be hiding out with the kids, only to find him on the floor with a growing bruise on his face. The kids were nowhere to be seen.
So, Batman sweeped the room, making note of a video that was still recording on the computer. Probably a taunt for him that the Joker never got to release. He pulled all the files from the computer and brought them with him when he left.
The police arrived, the civilians were taken care of, but none of them had any idea what happened in the room the Joker was in. Apparently none of them heard anything, despite the fact the Joker had a gun with him no shots were fired. And none of them knew what happened to the kids.
So the family gathered around the batcomputer to try and find out what had happened. They rewound the video back to the beginning, hoping to at least find out if the kids were okay.
The video opened to the Joker being his usual self, holding his gun, looking like he hadn’t yet gotten punched in the face.
“ Bats! Wonderful to see me isn’t it? I know it's been too long, and I’ve got some presents for you!” Joker turns the camera to show three kids, two no older than six, both blonde and terrified, and one that could be a teenager, probably around twelve to thirteen with black hair and looking bored. The camera swings back to the Joker after a moment. “ Of course, I have a bunch of adults too, but these little kiddos are just for you! I have such plans for them bats!”
“Hey, crazy clown?” They hear, coming from one of the children. Joker stops ranting to look past the computer, probably at the kid who’s speaking and the bats all look at each other in disbelief.“ Look, I’m sure you have some sort of reason for all this hostage-taking and gun-waving, probably even for dressing like that.”
“ Oh, this kid is insane.” Tim mutters.
“ However, I already have one fruitloop in my life and that is more than enough for me, so I’m going to have to leave now.”
The Joker starts laughing, he bends over and wraps his arms around his stomach laughing his normal cackle that has most of the room cringing. They watch as the child, the older one, walks right up to the Joker, who is still laughing, and punches him in the face.
They watch in silence as the Joker falls limp to the floor. Jason whistles. Then the boy turns more toward the camera, but really towards the children as he starts talking to them and they see him fully for the first time. Black hair, blue eyes, looks exhausted and he just punched the Joker in the face. The kids look amongst each other for a moment, all thinking the same thing, before turning back to the screen to see the boy, this tiny boy who called the Joker ‘crazy clown’ and punched him in the face helping the other kids escape out the window.
“ Bruce, no.” Dick mutters. “ We don’t even know who this kid is.”
“ This kid just knocked out the Joker in one punch, if Bruce doesn’t nab him, I will.” Jason states.
Everything devolves into arguing from there, all the kids shouting amongst themselves arguing either for or against the adoption of the kid. It goes on for a while before Bruce speaks up.
“ Let’s just find the kid first.” Bruce says, He’s already pulled up facial recognition and is chatting with Oracle about the CCTV footage by the warehouse. “ All of you go get some rest, I’m going to go see if I can track him.”
“ Hey! If you’re going back out, we’re going back out!” Dick complains. “ We’re concerned about the kid too.”
Bruce starts to argue with him, but is cut off by the sound of motorcycles as Jason and Tim start to head back out, already talking to Oracle about where to start. Dick heads out after them and Damian goes to sit in the batmobile, waiting. Bruce heaves a sigh before climbing in after him.
“ Okay, Oracle what do we have?” Batman asks.
“ I was able to track him into an alley, but nothing after that.”
Now with part 3!
#dcxdp#dc x dp crossover#batman#danny phantom#my writing#I have no idea where this is going really#it has no ending#just middle ideas#dp x dc
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Would you be up for writing a fanfic with Lando or Max x reader where reader also races but due to the training and harsh training her team and trainer are putting her through develops an ED (common among competitive sports and I’ve got experience 😭) maybe Reader faints or her bf finds out? No problem if not 😘 love your writing!
Those inward struggles - Max Verstappen x Driver! Reader
Plot: After having to change you diet and do more work after struggling in Singapore you spend a year on strict training away from your boyfriends knowledge. What happens when a year on and people are noticing how much more exhausted your looking after each race.
Warnings: Eating Disorder, Reader Being Sick
Singapore and Qatar 2022 was extremely hard for you. Your body temperature in the car didn't regulate that well and you lost way more weight than any other driver.
You new that the 2023 season was going to be even harder with where the races were placed in the year.
Your physician wanted you to keep the weight off. The lower your body mass, the less you'd struggle with the heat. That was their thought process and that's what they deemed best for you as a woman. So of course, you trusted the team's decisions and you started to train more, and eating in a calorie deficit.
They'd come up with a plan for you to loose a safe amount in a safe amount of time, however it almost felt like a competition and you wanted to be as ready as possible.
At first it was hard, you craved sugar and grease the most but eventually once the majority was out of your system the vegetables and fruits started to taste like when you have a sip of that half stagnant water at 3am when your body decided to lower your thirst bar all the way down.
Max as a driver had also seen how much more you were with your personal trainer, and how it didn't just stop when you got home as you would often be in your home gym.
You'd serve yourself less and meals than him and he noticed these little things. Of course he did, he'd been obsessed with you since he was a 13 year old and both of you met in karting.
You started dating a year before he got into F1 quite literally being the definition of childhood romance. But this did mean that he knew you like the back of his hand.
"Baby, how about a sweet treat?" he asks holding up your fav type of cookie waving it in front of your face.
"I really shouldn't, I think the team wouldn't be happy if they found out I was eating more than i should!" you explain to him, continuing to wash the dishes from earlier that night.
"But... you didn't have much for dinner and you skipped lunch!" he asks remembering what you'd eaten throughout the day.
"Oh? So your keeping tabs on me now?" you ask looking him over with a soft yet teasing frown.
"Well, when your with me for a good portion of the day I notice" he grumbles making you turn your head to him at that tone, it wasn't one he used often.
"Huh?" you say leaving the dishes fully in the sink before placing a hand on your hip.
"Look, It's not just me noticing it but your not healthy right now!" Max offers and you turn back round to do the washing up.
Your trainer said you might feel a little tired and icky while you were on such a strict diet but once you'd got to your goal weight you'd feel better.
"Please just eat the cookie!" he smiles and you roll your eyes. You take the cookie and finish it off under his watchful eye. It tasted so good, but you almost gagged at how heavy the chocolate felt at the back of your throat and how you could feel the chunkiness of the chewed batter.
There wasn't that fresh aftertaste you been getting recently from the various fruits and veges you'd been relying on to get you eating something.
You gagged at something that used to be a delicacy too you, something that would excite you. However you finished it off to please Max. Once he was satisfied you had your filling he explained he was going out to a set with Lando, Daniel and Charles.
You'd already said you wanted to stay home today.
The minute he was out the door you were in the bathroom getting the sugary sweet treat out of your body, feeling disgusting from having had it.
The guilt was eating away at you the minute you had it, you knew just how unhappy the trainer would be. You spent the rest of the evening in the gym, weighing yourself before and after the session.
To your dismay there was no improvement and you sat in the gym crying over you predicament.
It was time for the 2023 Qatar Grand Prix, you were already struggling just walking round the paddock in the areas that didn't have aircon. When you'd done your track walk, you could feel the damp sweat on areas of your body you didn't know was possible.
However, you pushed and pushed yourself through the whole weekend, you drunk lots of water and made sure to keep up with the exercising and kept eating to a minimum.
When you'd got in the car for the first practice your hard work seemed to pay of, coming P4. Again in qualifying you'd had a fastest lap in Q2 and split the Mercedes up Q3 coming P3 behind Max and George. Both of these weren't too bad, it was in short bursts that didn't make you too hot.
However as the weekend moved forward, it was obvious to your team, to Max and to the media that you were becoming more and more exhausted. A lot of people noted that your tailored race suit was starting to bag in places it shouldn't and that you had sunken areas on your face, making you look all the more exhausted.
The Sprint shootout was awful, you placing 9th fastest overall, which compared to your earlier racing was no good for you or your team.
You only managed to move up one place to P8 in the Sprint, meaning you were in the points but you were taken to the medical tent after reporting feeling dizzy and your sight spotting.
Max had headed over to the Aston Martin garage asking for you, all the mechanics just saying you were still with medical. He rushed over, quicker than his car on a flying lap as no-body actually knew what was wrong with you.
"Y/N?" you'd heard as he'd come storming in looking around for you.
"I'm in here!" you said and he came over taking your hand in his.
"What's going on, what's wrong?" he asks looking over you.
"Nothing, just had a bit of a migraine. Apparently not enough water!" you lie, knowing the doctors were still doing tests but they said you were free to leave.
You'd left, he'd comforted you at the hotel making sure you had everything you could possibly need before you both slept away the tire of the day.
Sunday of course was a shit show. Medical still hadn't fully worked out what was wrong with you and they were debating pulling you from the race. You'd refused saying you were fine to race.
You were 20 laps in when your vision started to blur until ringing in your head occurred.
You tried to keep up with the fluids from your drinks tube but they were just heating up along with everything else in the car.
"Y/N are you okay. Medical have just deemed you should be racing. We want to retire you" your engineer comes through at lap 50.
"7 more laps, I'll be fine" you groan. You'd managed to stick to P4 for the majority of the race. But now that vision in your left eye was pretty poor you were taking turns a little more hesitantly meaning you were down in P6.
You defended from Ocon like your life depended on it, and finally pulled up to the area where the cars sit when the race it over. You sit in the car, in silence trying to get your vision back and stop shaking.
You body ran cold, you were shivering now and could feel the cold sweat in your suit, you wanted to reach up and take your helmet off more than anything but your arms didn't obey.
So you just sat there, until some Aston Martin mechanics came through with water. They helped you out and up handing you a bottle of water. But with the ringing not having stopped your vision completely went as you fell back onto the hard ground of the track.
Max once he'd found out his team and your team and pretty much everyone had kept you fainting from him a secret he had yelled, a lot, at anyone and everyone he could.
Even Lando and Oscar in the cool down room had to be at the receiving end of his wrath.
After his podium that he had tried to make as quick as possible he was right with you. Yelling at everyone while making sure you were getting the correct medical attention.
When he found out the reason behind you fainting and the fact that you drove the last few laps half sighted he was back to MAD MAX, and oh boy it wasn't a pretty sight.
He couldn't believe your team who were supposed to make sure you were in the best health had actually been hindering you and not helping you.
To say the he and Rupert his own personal trainer would be taking over from now on and he'd be hiring a private nutritionist to get you back on track to your starting F1 weight in 2022.
He loved you and would do anything for you.
Taglist:
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#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#formula 1 x you#formula one#formula 1#formula one fanfiction#max verstappen x you#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen fanfic#max verstappen#mv1#mv33#mv1 x reader#mv1 imagine#mv1 fic#mv1 x you#mv33 x reader#mv33 imagine#mv33 fic#mv33 x you
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”How do you do it?” Eddie asks.
The question slips out far too late at night, anxiety thrumming in his chest—he’s not escaped the feeling ever since the boathouse, when he simply couldn’t sleep, felt like a fox just waiting for hound dogs to get his scent, ready to run—
Steve doesn’t need him to explain further, as if he can somehow hear a whole lot of what Eddie’s not saying: like when he picked up the phone an hour ago and hadn’t even let Eddie tie himself in knots, had just said, so easily, “I’ll come get you,” like it wasn’t a huge inconvenience, like he’d been the one to call Eddie instead.
He’s considering Eddie from where he lies in bed, leaning on his elbow, and he’s still got the covers off pointedly—and that’s a big thing, Eddie thinks, a big thing he doesn’t know what to do with, because they’ve not talked, not really, not got much beyond the dizzying relief of still being alive.
But even fraught with profound lack of sleep, Eddie doesn’t think he’s misreading the look in Steve’s eyes.
I know, those eyes say, illuminated by the warm light of the bedside lamp. It’s okay, there’s no rush. I’m right here.
Eddie’s never seen that kind of look before. Not towards him.
“Sometimes Robin sleeps over,” Steve says thoughtfully. “And sometimes the kids are around, and they’re so annoying and I get, like, three hours, tops.” He says it with all the fondness in the world. “And sometimes I’m alone, and it’s fine.”
“What about the other times?” Eddie can’t help but whisper.
If it were a reasonable hour maybe he wouldn’t dare to ask at all, but exhaustion’s worn down the filter in his head—at this point it’s practically see-through.
Steve shrugs. “Yeah, they’re shit,” he says with such honesty that Eddie nearly asks it again, how do you do it?
“But then it’s, like, a new day,” Steve says slowly, like he’s carefully weighing up what to say, “and I can… drive.” The pause tells Eddie he means go to someone. “Or, like… call, if it’s really bad.”
Hey, I’m glad you called, man, Steve had said when Eddie got into his car earlier, like they were just going to the movies or something normal—like Eddie wasn’t shaking, forehead pressed against the passenger window.
Eddie feels his throat close up a little. Tries to sniff as quietly as possible.
“Eddie,” Steve says patiently. He moves back in the bed. Gives Eddie space. “C’mere.”
Steve keeps the lamp on which helps; this isn’t the boathouse, Eddie thinks, and the slightest bit of tension leaves his body. Even that feels like a miracle.
He’s just resigning himself to lying there, staring up at the ceiling so at least Steve can get some rest, when Steve turns and catches his eye, still wide awake.
“Tell me about The Lord of the Rings,” Steve says.
The tightness in Eddie’s chest loosens; he laughs in surprise. “What?”
“You heard me.”
Eddie turns so he’s facing Steve properly, attempts a casual shrug, knowing already that it’ll be too rigid. “I don’t know, man. We, uh. We kinda lived through Mordor already.”
His hand twists in the bedsheets, knuckles turning white.
I don’t know how to do this. I’ve never had…
Steve’s hand reaches across, eases Eddie’s grip on the sheets, like he’s saying, neither did I. Just give it a shot.
“The shire, then,” Steve says.
Eddie smiles. “Steve Harrington,” he says, suddenly finding enough lightness to tease; he’s missed it. “Are you asking me for a bedtime story?”
“Nope,” Steve says. “We’re just gonna lie here and talk.”
And they do.
Steve asks questions which works out for the best—Eddie can’t quite remember the last time he read the books. To tell the truth, anything that happened before March often has a kind of fog over it.
He’s sure he’s dropped at least a couple of plot points somewhere along the way, but Steve never once complains that he’s not making sense, just gently prompts Eddie until… until…
“Mm, I know what you’re doing,” Eddie mumbles through a yawn that catches him unawares.
“Oh, do you now?” Steve says, sounding smug. God, Eddie loves him. “Is it working?”
“Maybe.” Eddie says. His eyelids are heavy. “Um.” He yawns again. “Where… where was I?”
“Don’t worry about it, man,” Steve says. It sounds like he’s smiling—Eddie would check, but it’s suddenly impossible to keep his eyes open.
It’s okay, he thinks hazily, melting into sleep without even thinking about it. He can ask Steve in the morning.
There’s no rush.
#on struggling with the aftermath#the trust in falling asleep in front of someone ❤️#this may have a second part#a lil anxiety soothing stuff ❤️#pre steddie#steddie fic#steddie ficlet#steddie#steve x eddie#steve harrington#eddie munson
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Hi !!!! I’m sorry if this is bothering you and if so you can totally ignore this but…
I’ve been thinking about how Ghost would react to reader gradually pulling away from him because she gained some weight and is self conscious and ashamed and doesn’t want to be seen by him, so sculpted and beautiful… but of course he’s feeling low because he wants to be close to reader and so he asks and she finally explains it to him (ready to be broken up with…)…. And I’d love to read your take on it !
You can make it female or gender neauteal I don’t really care !!!! Thank you anyway ❤️❤️❤️❤️
Wildflowers Grow in Ruins
(Ghost x F!Reader, word count: 5 k)
Summary: Reader tries to break up with Ghost because she thinks she's not good enough for him.
Tags/warnings: FLUFF, soft sensual smut 🔞, hurt/comfort, light angst, Jealous!Ghost, Soft!Ghost, self-loathing & self-body shaming. Good girl talk/praise kink. Reader is female and wears a skirt for smut plot purposes.
A/N: I hope you like this take & I hope you don't mind that I tweaked this request just a little bit!) Also: JFC I'm wordy. The "I need to explain why they're fucking!" meme comes to mind every time I write anything.
Wars are exhausting.
You know fighting for something can empower people. Fighting against something usually just depletes your strength.
But waging a war against yourself…
Now that is pure hell.
It started somewhere in your youth. You thought adulthood would take it away; that reason and tolerance would take it away. You were supposed to feel more confident in yourself, more positive about life. And for a moment, you thought you might just succeed.
But standing beside a god of war is no easy feat.
He came into your life like a walking myth, swept you away, and you only laughed as you went. It was fun at first. He was supposed to be your savior, the solution to all your problems. If a man like him found you attractive, perhaps it was the world that was crooked and not you.
But then you got soft: you started to gain pounds. Meanwhile, he became even more magnificent. It reminded you that it had all been just a dream.
Perhaps it was his eyes that seemed to worship you, that seemed to look past your every flaw. Perhaps it was the hands which never seemed to get enough of your skin. Whatever it was, it was too much. And at the same time, never enough.
The day has finally come to let him go.
You think yourself heroic. It's like it should be: it's only right that you finally release him to someone better than you.
But inside, the noble feelings twist and turn and curl around your throat and stuff your stomach full of ice - the kind they fill glasses of mojito with. The drink you'll always remember him by because he teased you about it: that you wanted an ice-cold summer drink even in the middle of winter.
Now you feel cold all over, and wish he could warm you like he used to.
You would forsake all the mojitos of the world to keep him. You would renounce the whole drink if it came to that; if you could make him yours.
But he's not yours. He never was: he was just on loan to give you a taste of what it would be like to have a man like him. That taste should be more than enough for a lifetime. You should feel grateful.
So why is it so hard to let go?
The key on the front door turns, and your heart shoots up your throat: you're supposed to settle this thing once and for all. You're supposed to let go of him today.
And still, when he arrives, you can't find the courage to say what you need to say. The words are stuck in your throat, but tears are not. He should already be a memory, but you find yourself suffocating on memories as you cry. You've learned to do even that in silence, like the rest of your suffering.
You take a few deep breaths, wipe the tears away, shove the rest of them down your throat – you save them for later, later, when he's far away and you can finally curl up and cry your heart out without no one there to look. Fucking later.
Good.
Good.
Great.
You put your heaviest armor on. It protects weak and soft flesh because you can't meet him all bare. Then you step forward with the knowledge that you’re a thoroughly wounded guerrilla while he is a seasoned, well-rested veteran. The fight is nowhere near even, but it's ok. You are not meant to be in the presence of immortals anyway.
The man looks at you warily as you finally enter the room. That haunted look has followed you for some time now as the distance between you has grown.
It should be easy, what is about to come, because he hasn't touched you in weeks. You haven't wanted him to.
Or you have… But it's not easy to have his hands on you when your body is only a vessel you hate. How can you even think about pleasure when all you think about is how it must feel for him to caress something as awful as this?
The man is a vision, and he settles for a peasant. It should be against the law, but it's not… so you figured a some time ago that you should simply find the strength and grace to do ii: do what's right.
"I need to talk to you."
Your voice comes out neutral, and it makes you more confident, if only for a second or two.
He lifts his chin: already knows what's coming, because he's not stupid. You've been shutting down for weeks, and he hasn't done much about it. But when the thunder rolls in, he doesn't flee. Probably because he fears nothing.
"Go ahead then," he says, equally as neutral, equally as icy. Got his armor on, too.
This should be easy…
It's really not, so you decide to rip the band-aid off in one yank.
"I think we should go separate ways."
The following inhale from across the room pierces the air like a bullet. You can hear his breaths gain depth and speed all the way to where you're standing.
"Ok."
It doesn't look or sound like he's ok. If anything, he looks like he's trying to process the sudden storm.
"Ok…" His eyes are on the floor as he rubs the back of his neck. Then he starts to pace around the little kitchenette you've shared for almost six months, just before you started gaining weight.
He stops to look out the window, then turns to you, and the hurt in his stare comes through like a thousand needles pushing through skin.
"Is it because of my work?"
"No."
"What is it then?"
Your breaths are getting out of hand, too. He looks like a lost, tired creature in an abandoned animal shelter for a moment, and it breaks your heart. It squeezes the organ inside a flaming fist until it shatters like it has never been nothing more than ice.
Your lip starts to tremble, and he notices, as per usual. Nothing escapes this man, except perhaps the true reason for your anguish.
"Hey. Hey."
He comes to you and hugs you like it's the only thing that matters: to comfort you when he sees you're about to cry, no matter how crushed he's feeling himself. The sudden warmth, the intimacy after weeks and weeks of pain is knee-buckling.
"Is there anything I can do to change your mind?"
His voice is soft, so soft… The tears rush forth now; there's no way of stopping them. What the hell can you even say to a question like that? That you wish he could grab a magic wand and turn you into someone gorgeous, the woman he deserves?
His embrace feels good, kind of. It also feels smothering because your self-hate makes you want to disappear from existence entirely. His eyes are equal to physical touch, a probing scan that sees every little flaw, not to talk about massive faults, the ones which make you feel like you're simply disgusting. His touch only reminds you how you must feel like to him: soft, too soft, weak.
And he must hate weakness.
"What do you need me to do? I'll do anything," he tries with a parched throat, then swallows.
It's fucking horrible. This isn't going at all like you had imagined.
"It's not about you," you struggle out of his hold, and he lets you go with reluctance. You have to basically fight your way out of a bone and steel prison. Why would he even want to hold a pathetic woman who's on the brink of ugly crying on top of everything?
"What do you mean?"
He's slightly breathless – and restless as fuck. He's usually so calm; nothing can get to him, nothing can rattle the tower of raw strength. Now you've not only pierced some invisible armor; you can hear pieces of it falling on the floor.
"Have you found someone else?"
What the…
"No." You put as much weight on that word as you possibly can. To imagine that he thinks you are cheating… Fucking cheating on someone like him. "Jesus Christ…"
He takes a deep breath and sighs deeply, sighs out relief, perhaps. Then his razor-sharp stare fixes on you again, and you can see the fear turning into something akin to concern. You suspect you have to tell him the truth, otherwise he will dig it out of you.
"I'm just…"
Jesus, this is just humiliating.
"I'm just not your type."
"What the hell are you talking about," he mutters, the impending fury giving way to momentary surprise.
He gets intense sometimes. This time, the ferocity is born of barely concealed distress. He's broad and magnificent, even in despair. He’s just so fucking fine… The perfect man, someone you had never even imagined yourself with. Pulled down to the world of puny mortals, evidently stressing about losing one.
Losing you.
"If you have someone new, you can just bloody well tell me."
"It's not that. You don't understand–"
"Try me."
"I just…" A tear escapes down your face as you finally break for him. "I'm fat. Okay? And ugly. And–"
"Stop right there."
The look on his face is just… It's priceless, you suppose.
"Bloody fucking hell…"
He looks at the floor, then runs his fingers through the short cut hair on top of his head. You've yanked those blonde strands more times than you can count, nearly every time he's been between your legs, and you miss it – you long for it, like fallen angels long for heaven.
And if there was a time this man was rendered speechless, you would say you were witnessing that moment right now. His brows knit together, then he looks up at you again with blaring disbelief.
"You're serious?"
"Yes."
"This is the reason you wanna break up?"
Ugh.
"Yes?"
His voice grows rougher with every question until it resembles thunder, and you suspect this is the commanding tone his soldiers are used to hearing.
But you're not: it's gravelly, harsh, and betrays the feeling of having been insulted. You feel even more devastated with yourself – it appears you can do nothing right.
"Where has this… idea even come to your head?"
"I don't know."
"And you never thought to ask my opinion?"
"Would you please stop yelling," you whisper and blink back some putrid tears. His mouth is snapped shut, his head pulls back just a little as he realizes what he's done.
"Sorry," he says with a half-whisper, and you catch the strain in his throat. You've never seen him cry, but now his voice is suddenly thin and frail. "I'm sorry."
He takes a step, then another, places fingertips on the counter as if to take the faintest support.
"Can I touch you?"
You don't really want him to do that, but you feel pity for the man. He's trying to find a way through this mess, and you want to help him.
"Yes," you whisper, and he immediately comes and takes you in his arms again. Hot tears disappear into his shirt, and you sniff a few times. He feels so good, so safe, even when you're about to lose him. His hold tightens around you, and the kitchen is silent; the whole world is silent. You don't know if you're being put to a grave or if you're in a deaf womb, waiting to be reborn.
"Now I don't know who's said this shite to you but ugly is the last fucking thing I'd call you," he declares above you. As if it was some bully whose fault it is that you were this way, a bully he could deal with with his fists or a gun. If only things were that easy…
"Have I said or done something? To make you feel this way?"
Then the blade is turned against himself. The man desperately searches for a culprit so he can deal with them.
"No," is the only thing you can say because it's true: he has never done a thing to make you feel like you weren't good enough; quite the contrary. But then again, he doesn't have to. It's enough that he exists and resembles a god.
"Then why do you think you're not my type?"
"Because you're so perfect," you hear yourself wail, no, cry into that shirt that smells of sweet safety and familiar musk – his scent, another thing you have missed like it's the only way to heaven.
"That for sure ain't true."
"But it is."
He seems to have the utmost difficulty in grasping what the issue here is. You can almost hear the wheels turning in his head with a rusty, laborious creak.
"Can't believe you wanna break up because of this," he finally says. You've chipped his pride, the ego that lives off of pleasing the ones he loves: the few chosen ones who he wants to give his whole life to.
"To me, you're perfect," he then says, and you simply… You stop breathing. "You're like… my dream woman. Ever thought about that?"
It can't be true, even if you vehemently, desperately want it to be. You reach out to his words like they're precious food after years of famine. Like they're sun and spring rain after being buried in the cold, dark soil whole winter.
"No…?"
"Never occurred to you that I might find you fucking beautiful?"
"Stop," you whisper, because it's too much to take in. He sounds so serious, so sincere.
"No, I don't think I will."
He pulls back a little and cups your face. Brushes away a tear, looks at you with so much love that it physically hurts; you feel like it's a lance that slowly drives through your heart.
"How about I kiss every part I love about you?"
You let out a soft little whimper. Fuck, that you want him to…
It would also be uncomfortable as hell. To try and let him love you and your body, which you have grown to loathe.
"It's gonna take all night, though. Wanna be as thorough as possible."
"Simon–"
"Love. I want you. Thought I'd made it pretty clear, but apparently I haven't. If you only knew how much–"
He sighs deeply. The man is frustrated with his shortcomings, thinks that this is all his fault. You cry a tear or two just for the sake of how absurd it all is.
"I don't want you to go. I fucking love you. Everything about you."
For the second time this afternoon, your lower lip starts to tremble as if this was some stupid, romantic movie. He can be so soft when he wants to, more romantic than the soft-spoken gentlemen in Jane Austen's novels. It doesn't even require any effort: underneath the cynical surface, there's fiery emotion, so powerful and raw that it almost bleeds out of him. Fuck… Does he even know what he's doing to you?
"I love you too," you whisper back, and the warmth that starts to bloom in his eyes is an entire sun on its own. It's hope, and you believe him, almost believe him.
"Then I'd say it's a bloody bad idea to break up."
You chuckle while few more tears push through to the surface.
"Simon…" You sigh and look back up at him, your armor falling to the floor too. "I feel like a wreck."
You allow him to see the pain, all of it. His breath is sharp as it hits him, but he still doesn't waver.
"Then let me help you."
The arms around you gain more strength, and you're crushed against a chest made of power. He tries to turn shit to gold, and threatens to succeed. You allow yourself to soften in his hold. How good it feels to be supported – no, loved.
"You don't even let me touch you anymore."
It's a filed complaint, but also heart-rending, soul-wrenching longing. You have evaded him for weeks now – hell, this shit began months ago and has escalated gradually, stealthily, until the moments together were a rarity, the space between you was full of frost; and not the crispy, happy summer drink kind.
"I thought you'd found someone else. Could've found out if that was the case in minutes, but honestly, I didn't wanna know."
Oh my God…
Has he lived with a growing suspicion and dread all these months?
That would explain why he has avoided you too…
He has allowed you to go to your supposed lover, has given you space to be alone and without too much attention. The man has shielded himself from pain.
Jesus fucking Christ.
"I'm so sorry," you say with a strained little breath. "I swear it's nothing like that. I just… I feel like a mess."
"Never seen such a gorgeous mess."
He speaks on your skin, the kiss on your forehead feels like an absolution.
Then you notice it's not only his words which try to assure you. He's growing harder by the minute against your stomach, just from a simple hug. Just from being pressed against you like this, after weeks of dry, bitter longing.
"Miss your taste," he murmurs to your skin, his voice like sand wrapped in burning velvet. "The sounds you make when you want it hard."
Oh God–
"Miss your smile when we go to shower after."
"Hmh…"
"Don't wanna live without that smile."
You don't have to.
God, you don't have to…
"How about we make a deal," he draws fingers down your chin, coaxing you to look up at him. His eyes are stripped from the cold distance that greeted you just moments ago: now they are filled with warmth that spreads to your chest and belly and bones. You drink him in like summertide.
"You come to me every time you feel bad and I'll make you feel good. Alright?"
"...Ok."
He tilts his head a little to the side, not entirely satisfied with your shy little answer.
"Come on. Make me believe it."
"It's a deal," you say with more grit to it, even if you're nearly crying again, this time from relief.
"That's my girl."
Oh fuck…
He knows exactly what strings to pull, the good girl talk being one of the things that instantly makes your legs feel like jelly.
And why does he always have to use that voice when he calls you a good girl or his girl, that sultry smoke that makes you want to swoon until he catches you and carries you to bed?
The man seems to be a mind reader as well, because he sweeps you off your feet and does exactly that: carries you to your bed which has mainly seen silent tears and painful sleep last months.
"Poor thing doesn't even know how lovely she is."
He sounds amused in the face of your darkness: sees it in full and still doesn't fear at all. He's ready to battle your demons for you, and you feel like shaking: from his touch and that voice, from the stress and loneliness that starts to release as he lays you down on the bed.
He looks so different from the man that has haunted this place for the past months, the complete opposite of the reserved soldier retreating into the shadows.
He moves to kiss you, and it's been – what? Weeks since your last kiss? And even that was only a quick peck, nothing like this… Wet, and desperate; a devouring. It makes you clench around nothingness, and you finally surrender.
No one can fake such fervor.
You try to accept it: accept the fact that even if you hate yourself, he does not. For some reason, he adores you. His breaths hit your face hot and urgent, and he can't keep his hands to himself anymore. They wander over your waist and hips, they even risk to steal a feel of your breasts, and then he groans in your mouth.
"I've missed you. Fuck, I've missed you..."
You taste notes of burning leaves; tobacco, his only weakness. You fantasize on the thought that you might be another weakness, too.
"Remember when I fucked you in my office?"
"I've missed you too," you utter softly in between the kisses that threaten to turn into a sloppy mess. "So much..."
He smiles at that, and it makes you weak, even when lying down like this.
"Yeah…?"
"You were so loud I had to put a hand over your mouth."
His voice is thick as he laughs a short chuckle. Your inner walls clench again at the sound, you throb among the warm syrup surrounding you.
"Never seen you so wet. Almost dripped all over my gear."
"It's that stupid mask you wear," you hear yourself breathe like you've just been underwater. Feel yourself throb some more, feel a burning sensation in the nether areas from the scorched desert turning wet again. You want him so much that it actually hurts down there.
"Knew you'd like it. That's why I kept it on."
If this man keeps talking, your underwear is going to be utterly ruined. And of course he does; of course he continues to pour more love in your ear.
"Everyone looked at you like you were a queen," he grunts in your ear, sounding almost… pissed.
"Don't be ridiculous," you try to form sensible words. It's only a faint breath, really, but he huffs at your modesty.
"You don't have eyes in the back of your head, love."
Wow… He is a bit pissed.
Had they checked your ass out when you visited him?
It was the first and, what you thought, the last time you got to visit him at his workplace… but you never would have guessed the reason for him not asking you to visit again would be jealousy.
"Don't worry. I put those fuckers in their place after you left."
Whoa.
Ok…
First, he had fucked you senseless in his office – a highly inappropriate move for a man in his position – then got jealous because some soldiers had checked you out as you left with his cum practically dripping from your cunt.
You put yourself in his shoes for a moment: he's had to live with thoughts of you running to some other man's arms when he's not home, and then watch you waltz around his workplace after making what was supposed to be the last effort to make him love you… When he has loved and adored you this whole time, has watched the sway of your ass with the rest of those home-deprived, horny soldiers, thinking you had fallen out of love and were on your way to go see some other guy.
Had he invited you there to try and win you back, too? By showing himself to you in all his puffed up, masculine glory? A desperate man in a skull mask, hoping to get love from you…
There's so many misunderstandings; they rip your throat. A sob escapes, and he stops his caress.
"Love… Tell me to stop if you–"
"No. No, I don't want you to stop."
Your request comes out with such demand that he hesitates only a second or two. Then he moves on top of you and tugs your skirt up. You don't even have time to realize what is happening before he has worked himself out of his pants.
He's hard and heavy between your legs, and your eyes go wide as you realize he's not going to bother to take your briefs off. He just slides a hand under the skirt and draws the fabric aside, and the fat tip of him is pushed in the middle almost clumsily. It's hot, and slips down to your opening with ease.
Oh f–
"Been jerking off to you nearly every night at the base," he says just before he pushes himself in.
"Uh–...."
Your thighs spread wide as he fills you slowly, inch after inch. The sound that leaves him is starved: a dry, painful sigh. He's been waiting for this for god knows how long, and you're just as hungry to take him in. He seems endless, the way he finally works himself fully inside, spreading you even wider as the thickening base of his cock reaches its end.
"Thought you were getting railed by someone else while I only get to fuck my hand."
"Oh god…"
There's really nothing else to say as his balls press against you, heavy and taut. He's not going to last long.
"Yeah. Imagine that," he admits, breathless like you.
You look at him with what must be the most helpless stare of longing in your eyes. Then he moves, and you want to grip him to keep him inside. The first thrusts are divine, they're pure heaven, and your head sinks deep into the pillow as you try to get enough air, try to not scream from pleasure already. Somehow, all you are able to utter is a desperate little whisper.
"Simon–"
His cock is good enough to bring tears to your eyes. You're starving too, you're pulling him in with fierce hunger, and he groans, then nearly falls forward, his weight pressing against you, swallowing you, until you feel like you're an idiot for thinking that you're too big. The thickness of his chest rubs against you as he makes love to you with passion that echoes the first times you did this.
"Just wanna adore you, love." He's panting desperate somewhere above you. A god and a man, both furious and gentle. "I wanna adore you. Just like this."
You answer him with what must be those sounds he told you about, the sounds you make when you want it hard.
You want him to fuck you, to wreck you after weeks of loneliness and hate. To love you until you break into a million pieces.
"Simon," you whisper. "...Love me."
He halts, huffs in your neck. It's almost a sob. There's so much emotion and desperation in the air that it could be scooped up and sold in the streets.
"Always," he rasps in your ear, then moves to kiss you again. "Always."
The promise echoes around you, it coats your lips as he loves you with all he has. It's been so long, and he feels so good that you nails dig into his shirt, his shoulder, you try to hold onto him even though he's the wave that rocks you.
"You feel that?" He goes deep; he's out of breath and desperate, even more desperate than you. "That's love. You feel it, yeah?"
"Yes," you sob in his shoulder, tears trying to escape your waterline as you're going dumb from the pure sensation, the sensuality of it all.
"That's it, love. That's a good girl," he turns to your neck and gruffs in your ear as you whimper and moan. "Always such a good girl."
Shit…
"I, I'm gonna…"
Your legs wrap around his middle, your muscles twitch and your hands reach and grab – they claw and yank and tug everything they can: his back, shoulders, shirt, something sturdy to keep you from drowning in a glorious orgasm.
He laughs in your neck and continues to grind you through your climax even when you're shattering, sighing, moaning, writhing under him. He just laughs, the man who never laughs: from witnessing you respond to him calling you a good girl.
Fucking bastard…
Lovable, infuriating bastard who knows you to your core.
You're an overstimulated heap by the time he comes as well, not long after you, but long enough to make you feel like you're only a tender bunch of nerves. Your legs have fallen to the side, he has open access to take what he needs: you, your love, all of it.
His whole middle goes tense as he cums, he groans and swears somewhere deep into your neck, rolls his hips over and over again like it's a must that his balls press against you with every thrust that shoot his load.
Then he falls slack, nearly collapses on top of you, reminding you of what it feels like to be small under a giant like him. You're throbbing together, you're full and fulfilled, and he is still lodged deep inside you, panting and broken in a sweat.
"Jesus Christ…"
He sounds dazed.
Relieved.
"Should've done this weeks ago."
You laugh at seeing him so done – a man in love, torn by jealous yearning, finally taking what's his. You stroke his neck, his back – it's so good to have him finally there… So close, with no barriers in between.
"I should've talked to you weeks ago..."
"Yeah. You should have."
"Are you going to punish me?" You giggle a little – the flirt is light and frees your heart further from its recent jail. He moves to look at you with all the tenderness there is. It's too much... His love is too much. But you won't run from it anymore.
"Nah. Think I'm gonna spoil you some more."
He spoils you right away with a kiss. You surrender to his treatment with happiness: happy tears, even.
The medicine to your anguish has been the exact opposite to what you had first tried, what you had originally thought. The true remedy for your sickness is mercy. Perhaps some spoiling…
And love.
#simon ghost riley#simon riley smut#simon riley fluff#ghost x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost fluff#soft simon riley#simon riley imagine#ghost x you#simon riley x you#fluff and smut#call of duty
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i. summary it was not your intention to seduce lyney, really, he was just already so very weak for you.
lyney being a sucker for you: the drabble
ii. warnings wc 700, this drabble has been in my drafts since i finished sleight of hand LOL. A Little Steamy, but nothing happens, I LOVE FLUSTERED LYNEY!!
“And that’s a wrap! Thank you, everyone; it all went smoothly as planned. Pat yourselves on the back.”
A chorus of exhausted yet elated cheers rings backstage, not enough to rival the crowd outside, yet it is still much more satisfying to hear. Some of the crew went up to Lyney to pat his shoulder, congratulating him for once again another successful show. Lyney takes it all with a dazzling grin and unwavering confidence. Why, of course. We’ve been working day and night for this.
You ceremoniously step forward and give his side a gentle nudge. Lyney responds with a grin as he reciprocates the gesture. “That was a new one. Did you and Lynette practice that secretly to surprise us?”
“A magician never reveals his secrets,” Lyney says, ironically knowing that he’d have to teach his crew about this as you mustn’t repeat the same trick twice.
Lyney spots his sister resting against a wall a few feet later. “You still want to buy that dessert, Lynette?”
Lynette’s eyes flicker to Lyney, then to you. “I’ll just meet you two there,” she tells Lyney, then walks off without waiting for goodbye.
“Huh, well.” People continue to filter out of the backstage, leaving you and Lyney alone in a dimly lit room, with props scattered all around and taking up enough space to have you and Lyney pressed against each other to not stumble over any of them. “Mon amour, how’d you enjoy the show?”
“It was splendid, of course. I especially liked the part where Lynette stole the spotlight—my favorite part of every show.”
“I understand, but be more nice to the star of the show, will you?” He’s deflated like a popped balloon. “I know you know how much work I put in to perfect everything.”
You laugh, brushing a stray strand of hair away from his face. “You think I pay attention to you that much?”
Lyney huffs. “You don’t have to be so coy. It’s my job to steal your attention, isn’t it? You’re also my assistant; surely you’ve learned a thing or two about magic tricks?”
“Of course I have,” you cede. “I’ve been watching it all, Lyney, don’t be teased so easily.”
“Well, it just seems to me you haven’t really been paying attention at all,” he feigns a pout.
“Really? Is this a test?” Lyney casts you a sly glance, and you return it with a scoff. “I’ve seen how you deceive them with your actions, distract them with your hands.” You nudge his chest with two fingers, and in the silence, you can hear how Lyney swallows air at the proximity. “You’ve got quite the skill with them.”
“You’ve been watching them pretty closely,” Lyney says quietly.
“Isn’t that the point? It just proves how talented of a magician you are.”
His face is a comical shade of red. He’s weak like that.
“What I learned while being part of your troupe, however, is that I could be saying anything, and my audience wouldn’t really care.” You trail your fingers up, and up, slowly, and Lyney’s breath all but hitches once you reach his neck. “Because I’m making you watch my hands—bring all your attention to what I do and not what I say.”
“Yeah,” Lyney agrees absentmindedly, like a hypnotized man—the irony.
And it’s then you realize that he isn’t looking at your hand at all. His eyes are gazing intensely right below your nose—entranced by how your lips move to mouth your words. You suppose that it still counts as a distraction.
Your fingers reach out to cup his chin, leveling him with a look of disbelief. “Lyney?”
His entire face is a tomato, and half-words are caught in the back of his throat. He gapes at you and looks as if he’s at war with himself.
You hold back a laugh. “I’m surprised you weren’t so critical to a newbie. Did I do that well?”
“That wasn’t fair, and you know it,” he replied weakly after a moment of finding his voice. He then hides his face behind his fingers. “Don’t go around doing that. You can’t try to captivate an audience already so enamored with you.”
“Ah…” Now you feel flustered. “Let’s—Let’s just go meet up with Lynette.” You can’t handle staying in this room for another minute.
#genshin impact#genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact x you#lyney x reader#lyney x you#lyney x y/n#genshin x you#x reader
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Back to december
Remus Lupin x reader
Summary: Remus feels like he will regret that night the rest of his life, the marauders convince him to do something about it.
Genre: Hurt/comfort, Second chance romance
CW: Remus being self-destructive and questioning his worth.
Word count: 1.8K
This is part of my Speak now (Marauders' Version) collection.
“So this is me swallowing my pride standing in front of you, Saying I'm sorry for that night. And I'd go back to December all the time
It turns out freedom ain't nothing but missing you. Wishing I'd realized what I had when you were mine”
Remus sighed, his eyes were fixed into someone across the great hall. He was sitting with the marauders at their usual place, his fork was playing with the food in front of him, he hadn’t been able to eat ever since that night.
“Come on mate, tell us what’s wrong. You’ve been sighing the whole dinner.” Sirius’ voice made him turn to him, seeing his three friends looking at him with worry written in their faces.
“Nothing is wrong, I’ve already told you” Remus replied with the same excuse he had been using for days.
“Yeah and that’s why you’ve been looking at Y/N like a kicked puppy for the last week” James retored. “Tell me again, why did you two break up?”
“How many times are you going to ask me that?” Remus sighed, tired of repeating the same conversation over and over with his friends.
“Until you tell us the truth” Peter urged.
“I’ve been telling you the truth, we wanted different things, the relationship wasn’t working”
“Remus” Sirius’ voice was stern, and the lack of a nickname while referring to his best friend was jarring. “You two were the epitome of love, I had never seen you smile as much as you did with her, like, never.”
“It’s hard to believe you, not even a day before you broke it off you were looking at her like she was the best thing that had ever happened to you. Your words, not mine.” James insisted.
And he was right, Remus had never been as happy as he had been while dating you. The choice of breaking things off had been all his. He loved you so much it was terrifying, at some point all he could think about was how long he had left before you realised what he really was and you left him for someone better. You deserved someone better.
“I really hope this has nothing to do with your monthly problem.” Peter’s voice was low, only for the four of them to hear.
Remus couldn’t help it, he stiffened. Peter had nailed it and he wasn’t ready to let his friends know about how deep his insecurities really run. But, they noticed his frame changing from exhausted to on guard, Remus didn’t even say anything before the rest of the marauders understood what had happened.
“Is that true Remus, did you break up with her because of that? I thought she already knew?” Sirius asked quietly, his previous anger now replaced with symphaty.
“She knows now, and it doesn’t matter, just drop it. I’m done with the interrogation” Remus snapped at them before getting up and leaving the great hall, leaving his friends with dumbfounded expressions behind.
───✥───
Lily meant well and you knew it, but if she kept asking you if you were okay you might explode.
“How are you, Y/N?” Lily asked you, for the fourth time in the last hour.
Ever since Remus had broken up with you Lily had been sitting next to you through all the meals, leaving her boyfriend's side, and afterwards she would walk you to your dorm. You appreciated her company and her friendship, but she was also a constant reminder that things were not as they were before, and therefore she was a constant reminder of your heartbreak.
“I’ll be fine” was the answer you settled for every time she asked.
“I talked to James.” Lily hesitated before speaking “Are you really okay? He told me why you and Remus broke up…”
Your eyes widened at that, if James had really told Lily about your break up that meant Lily knew about Remus being a werewolf, and as far as you were concerned he had never pushed her out of his life as he had done when you had been the one to bring it up.
“You knew about…that?” you decided to keep it as vague as possible in case James had made something up to stop Lily from asking more details.
She nodded “Ever since fourth year”
“Did he tell you?” You needed to know, your hands were now shaking and your heart was racing.
“No, I figured it out. Just like you did '' Lily's words calmed you down a little, if he had been able to confide in Lily but had never felt safe enough to tell you it would’ve made you feel awful.
“The moment I brought it up he cut me off, we didn’t even have the chance to discuss it. He just broke up with me.” It was the first time you were being honest about it, and it just made everything hurt like if Remus was breaking up with you all over again.
Lily stepped closer to you before wrapping you in a tight hug, her arms stroking your back in an attemp to comfort you.
“I think you should talk to him, try to make things right again.” she whispered.
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea, he probably doesn’t want to have anything to do with me.”
“Somehow I doubt that.”
Maybe Lily was right, but you would never be brave enough to even try to prove her right.
───✥───
After storming out of the great hall Remus had locked himself in his dorm, he didn’t want any of the marauders to give him a speech about how he couldn’t let his lycanthopy affect his relationships. Because it had already affected the most important one he had.
But of course his friends wouldn’t grant his wishes.
“Remus, let me in, I want to talk with you. Please” Sirius was nothing but persistent. “Come on Moony, you know I’m not leaving.”
Remus sighed, he’d been doing that a tad lately, but decided to let Sirius in. He wasn’t going to give up anytime soon, and he preferred to talk with him alone and not wait for James and Peter to join Sirius.
When he opened the door Sirius didn’t waste a second and barged in, going directly to sit on Remus’ bed.
“Oh, yes of course, make yourself at home on my bed.” Remus scoffed at him.
“Come sit, Moony”
Remus didn’t have the strenght to fight him, so he walked towards his bed and sat next to Sirius.
“What happened when she found out?” He wasn’t going to waste any more time.
“She confronted me about it, asked me why I hadn’t told her.” Remus said sadly
“Was she judgemental, was she scared or disgusted?” Sirius inquired, he knew you well, and you weren’t anything but lovely and understanding, being disgusted by Remus’ lycanthropy was not something he pegged you to be.
“I didn’t give her the chance to really express what she thought of it” Sirius gave him a look of encouragement for him to continue. “I broke up with her before she could say something.”
“Why?”
“I think that if she had rejected me at that moment I would have never recovered from it, I was terrified.” He said, his words showing a rare vulnerability.
“Do you regret it? Not giving her a chance. Do you really think she would’ve hated you?”
“I regretted it the moment she walked out of the door, but I couldn’t risk it”
“I think you should give her the chance, talk with her.” Sirius patted his shoulder
“If she didn’t hate me then, she defintely does now. She deserves better.”
“I believe it’s not your call to choose what she does or does not deserve, give her the chance.”
Maybe Sirius was right.
───✥───
The Gryffindor common room was not very crowded after curfew, usually only a few seventh year students were spotted working on their class work after being kicked out of the library.
But these days you would only find comfort on the couch in front of the fireplace, even if it was not a substitute for Remus’ warmth during the cold nights of december, it was the best you found.
The quiet crack of the wood being burned and the weight of your blankets lulled you to sleep, your eyes were closed and your breathing slow, you were finally falling asleep when the weight of another body made the couch shift.
“Y/N '' your name was called very quietly, barely above a whisper, but you could recognise the voice anywhere.
“Remus” your eyes opened and you sat up, straightening yourself
Remus was sitting right next to you, far enough for his thighs to not touch you, but close enough for you to be able to read his expression in the dark room .
“Can we please talk?” He was fidgeting with his hands, clearly nervous of how this conversation was going to go.
You hugged yourself before nodding. Then a beat of silence
“I’m sorry.” you both said at the same time. Another silence took over the room before you both chuckled awkwardly.
“I’m really sorry Y/N, I shouldn’t have cut you off like that. I was scared and I was impulsive, I know I can’t excuse my behaviour, and you don’t have to forgive me but I needed you to know.” He took a deep breath before continuing
“I have never felt what I feel for you before, and only the thought of you leaving because of my lycanthropy terrified me. And the moment you confronted me about it I thought it was better if I was the one leaving. But I regretted it the moment I saw the tears in your eyes, and when you walked out of the door all I wanted was to take my words back. And I regret it every time I see you across the great hall instead of next to me. Words can’t begin to show how sorry I am.”
Remus was now crying, he wasn’t the only one, your eyes had started to water the moment he started talking. You took his hand on yours before speaking.
“It’s okay Rem, I forgive you. And I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like I would hate you for being you” you said sincerely.
There was a brief moment of silence in which you looked each other in the eyes, they were filled with tears, but also love. You swore no one had ever looked at you like that before.
"Can we try again, please?" He asked
You didn't even answer, throwing yourself at his arms, which embraced you with the familiar warmth you desperately craved.
"I've missed you so much, please never leave again" you sobbed into his chest
"I won't, I promise" he said, placing a kiss on your temple.
Maybe Remus should listen to Sirius' advice more often if they were going to help him get the love of his life back.
Author's note: I'm so proud of this one I think it's super duper cute. I'm also dying with uni work at the moment, wish me luck, love u all <33
Thank you for reading! Likes, comments and reblogs are welcomed and very appreciated
To be part of the taglist Dm me or send me an ask <3
Series' taglist: @feral-posts @izuoyarmin @aremuslupinsimp @yourfavgay @imobsessedwitholiviarodrigo
#remus lupin x reader#marauders x reader#marauders fandom#marauders fanfiction#marauders fic#marauders era#remus lupin imagine#remus lupin fic#remus fanfic#remus x reader#remus lupin#remus x you#remus lupin x you#marauders#remus lupin x y/n
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lean on me
Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader
series masterlist
summary: It's been three months since you and Joel left your baby daughter with Bill and Frank in Lincoln; you aren't coping well and Joel tries to help you get through it.
pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader
warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. BOSTON QZ ERA ((TW)) though it is not explicitly stated, it is implied reader is suffering from postpartum depression. mentions of being unable to breastfeed. angst, hurt, comfort, tiniest hint of fluff at the end.
word count: 3.7k
a/n: this was only meant to be a short drabble, but it ended up getting longer than i anticipated. sorry for more angst.
September, 2020
Joel had known things would get bad.
But he hadn’t expected for them to get this fucking bad.
He glanced across the table at Tess, quietly asking, “She eat today?”
Tess let out a small sigh, shaking her head. “Nope.” She picked up her chipped, ceramic mug and took a sip of crappy, two decades old dark roast coffee and stated, “She didn’t eat anything yesterday, either. Or the day before that or the one before that. I can barely get her to take a fucking sip of water these days.”
“Fuckin’ hell, Tess! We can’t just sit around watchin’ her starve herself,” he hissed at her, his hands curling into fists on the table.
She shot him an irritated look. “You think I don’t know that already?”
“Tess—”
“What are we going to do, Joel? Pin her down and force feed her?”
Joel’s jaw clenched, his lips pressing together in a tight, thin line. He glanced over at you with a heavy, sinking feeling inside of his chest at the mere sight of your current state.
You were sitting on the bed in the same pair of gray sweatpants you’d been wearing for the last couple of days, your knees pulled up to your chest as you stared blankly, vacantly, out of the window beside you at absolutely nothing. You were beginning to appear frail—the current tone of your skin was so dull, so washed out that anybody who took one glance at you would probably think that you had spent your entire life locked away in some basement, never having seen the fucking sunshine before. The pallor of your skin was only emphasized by the dark, bruise-like circles underneath your eyes, courtesy of the long and sleepless nights you’d been having, especially lately.
You had fallen deep into a sadness, a darkness—one so deep that you had become nothing but a mere shadow of your former self. You were an empty shell of a human being and it was starting to scare the fucking shit out of Joel.
“Maybe if we took her to see the baby?” Tess suggested, quietly. She took another sip of her coffee and then set her mug down. “Frank has been wondering why you two haven’t been over there to see her. Hell, even Bill is curious why I’ve been going over there alone.” After having done some digging around, Tess managed to find someone in the QZ who had helped her get her hands on homemade infant formula; it was worth gold and only ever went to officials of a higher ranking who could actually afford it. Somehow, she’d pulled a few strings and the next thing Joel knew, Tess was loading a pack full of cans to take over to Lincoln. She’d made a couple more trips since then, and each time, she had gone alone. “It’s been over three months, Joel. Maybe it’s finally time—maybe it would help her.”
“In her condition?” Joel shook his head, adamantly. “No. For one, she wouldn’t fuckin’ make it a mile down the road before collapsing—from exhaustion, from starvation, you name it. And even if she could make the trip somehow, the truth is, she’s not ready to see her.” He lowered his voice to keep you from overhearing him, although at this point, he was certain that you were too zoned out to even pay attention. Every word was probably going in through one ear and out the other. “I hate to say it, but she’s just not strong enough to see her yet, Tess.”
“And what about you, Texas? What’s your excuse?”
He glared at her. “You really think I can leave her here alone in a state like this while we go skippin’ off to Lincoln together?”
“Good point.” Tess paused and peered curiously at him. “You haven’t even told her what they named her, have you?”
“Don’t think that’s such a good idea right now, either.” Joel held back a heavy sigh as he looked down into his own mug of shitty coffee. A huge part of him wished that she hadn’t told him what Bill and Frank ended up naming the baby. Since then, his daughter’s name echoed in the back of his mind, over and over again, damn near constantly.
“Joel, if we don’t do something, she’s going to wind up—” Tess could see his jaw clench again and she stopped herself, choosing her words more carefully. “She’s walking on thin ice. She’s not eating, she’s not sleeping. She’s already been in lockup twice this week alone because she can’t even keep up with work detail anymore. I know this is hard for you to hear, but if something doesn’t change soon, things are only going to get worse from here—she’ll get worse. You’re the only one of the two of us who actually has a chance of getting through to her and you need to fucking do something.”
“Tess, I’ve tried—”
“Well fucking try harder, Joel. If you don’t, you’ll fucking lose her. You know that, right?”
“I know.” Joel rubbed his face tiredly with both of his hands. He knew it was nothing but the truth that she was speaking, but goddamn the truth fell onto his shoulders heavy, almost too heavy. It felt as though he were carrying the weight of the entire fucking planet. But she was right. If something wasn’t done, he was going to lose you. “Tess, you mind if I have a minute alone with her?”
She nodded and took one last gulp of coffee before standing up from the table. “Yeah. I have to go see Robert and a couple of his buffoons about something anyway.” As she walked past him towards the door, she stopped and tossed him a pointed look. “Maybe today is the day that you finally decide to give her that thing that you’ve been carrying around in your pocket,” she suggested. “We went through a lot of shit for it, Joel. It’s the reason we have been drinking crappier coffee than usual for the last two weeks.”
He nodded, watching her as she grabbed her jacket and left.
After a minute or two, Joel finally pushed himself away from the table and rose to his feet. He made his way over to you, and he wasn’t even the slightest bit surprised at how you didn’t turn to acknowledge him despite the sound of his heavy boots on the creaking hardwood floor. He said your name as he came closer to you, but you remained as still as a stone statue, your eyes still fixed outside of the window.
“Alright,” he said, standing next to you at the side of the bed, both of his hands placed firmly on his hips. “Enough is fuckin’ enough. I can’t and I won’t let you keep carryin’ on like this. Either you get up and get your ass over to that table and eat somethin’ or I’m going to pick you up off of this bed, take you over there, and feed you myself. And don’t think I won’t. I’ll tie you down to the chair if that’s what I’ve gotta do.”
Finally, you turned to look at him. You spoke, your voice sounding just as fragile as you looked. “I’m not hungry.”
Joel’s expression immediately softened.
Fuck.
He couldn’t be tough on you, not in the state you were in—he thought being hard on you would be the way to get through to you, but he just didn’t have it in him to be stern with you, not when you were like this.
“Baby. Please.” He knelt down beside you, reaching for your hand. He winced at how frigid your hand felt in his palm, as if he were holding a block of ice. He brought his other hand up and placed it on top, doing his best to warm it up with both of his. “Look, I get it. I know that you miss her. I know that you’re hurtin’ over her. You might not think I get it, but I do.” He paused, feeling sick to his stomach upon noticing the lifelessness in your eyes. He almost wished that he could see you cry, because at least he would know for certain that you were still in there somewhere—but Joel hadn’t seen you shed a single tear since you’d broken down sobbing in his arms that night in Lincoln. “You just can’t keep goin’ on like this. You don’t eat, you’ve barely slept in weeks. You keep fallin’ behind with all your work assignments and you’ve landed yourself in lockup more times than I can fuckin’ count because of it.”
You simply shrugged, as if you couldn’t give two shits about any of it.
Joel managed to bite back his sigh of frustration. He knew that losing his temper would do nothing more than sink you further into the hole you were currently in. But he was angry. He was just so fucking angry about about everything. Here you were, just slipping right through his fucking fingers, slowly fading away right before his own two eyes and he didn’t know what to do to stop it from happening. He felt lost. He felt hopeless—useless.
He squeezed your hand out of desperation. He would fucking plead if he had to. “I need you to fuckin’ snap out of it. Please,” he begged, as he continued holding your hand tightly, holding onto it as if he were holding onto dear life itself. “Please, for the love of fuckin’ god, I need you to just snap out of it. If not for yourself, fuckin’ do it for me—do it for her.”
“Snap out of it?” You repeated. “You want me to just snap out of it?”
“Baby, please just listen to me for one goddamn second—”
You snatched your hand out of both of his. “I can’t just fucking snap out of it, Joel!” You nearly shouted at him, speaking the loudest he’d heard you speak in several weeks. “Alright? I can’t snap out of it! My heart is shattered into pieces, don’t you fucking understand that?”
“‘Course I do. Givin’ her up was hard for me too,” he reminded you quietly, resisting the urge to match your tone.
“And I don’t deny that,” You prefaced yourself. “I know it was hard on you too, Joel. But you’re not the one who came this close, this damn fucking close to aborting her.” You held up your index finger and your thumb close together. You’d started trembling as everything seemed to catch up to you all at once—sleep deprivation, malnourishment and of course, the emotions you had been bottling up inside of you for the last three months. “You’re not the one who carried her inside of your womb for almost nine months, who felt every one of her flutters and her kicks. You’re not the one who had to go through the excruciating pain of giving birth to her in this crumbling apartment, only to have to place her in someone else’s arms and leave her behind three days later. You’re not the one who had to deal with the aftermath, Joel. Do you know how much it fucking hurt not to be able to feed her? How much it fucking sucked to have to wait for your milk supply to dry up because you no longer had a baby to feed?”
For the first time in a long time, Joel was left speechless.
He didn’t know what to say. Hell, there was nothing he could say.
Because you were absolutely fucking right.
None of what you’d just said to him was a lie. Of course he knew that giving the baby up had been a hundred times harder on you than it’d been on him—mentally, emotionally, and even physically. He thought back to the nights when he would see you sitting there with your own arms wrapped around your chest, knowing you were aching, knowing that although you said nothing about it, you were in unbearable pain from being unable to breastfeed.
And what could he do about it?
Not a goddamn fucking thing.
Still, Joel had tried. He always made the attempt to comfort you, only to be shot down time and time again. He’d been so used to being the one who rejected any kind of support that, when the tables had been turned on him, he hadn’t known how to handle it. Joel could feel the guilt slowly creeping in as he wondered if perhaps he just hadn’t tried hard enough for you. He was your partner—it was his duty to take care of you, to look out for you, to protect you, and yet here he was, failing to do any of that.
He could have done more.
He should have done more.
Especially after all the friction he’d caused from the beginning of your pregnancy. From letting you go to those crooked motherfuckers for a procedure that could have cost you your life, down to the way he had treated you the night you’d brought up Sarah, it seemed as though all Joel had been doing was fucking up, time after time.
Seeing the expression on Joel’s face, you immediately knew what he must have been thinking. Your eyes widened and you quickly uttered a nearly breathless apology. “Joel, I’m so fucking sorry—”
He stopped you, tightly shaking his head. “No, don’t be. It’s true, it’s all fuckin’ true.”
Finally, after three months of bone-dry eyes, a warm tear slipped out, falling down the side of your face. Your entire body shuddered as the flood gates opened and more followed in suit, each one falling faster, harder than the last. The next thing you knew, Joel had pulled himself up onto the mattress beside you, pulling you into his arms just as you had started sobbing. With one hand, he delicately cradled the back of your head as you cried and cried into his shoulder. The other rubbed a soothing circle into your back over and over again.
And just like that night in Lincoln, Joel just held you, waiting patiently as you finally allowed yourself to release each and every single one of your emotions out into the open. He didn’t say a word to you, nor did he attempt to stop the tears—he just held you close, merely using his touch to silently let you know that he would wait as long as he had to until you were finished.
“Joel,” You sniffed his name, your hands clutching fistfuls of his shirt.
“I’m right here, baby,” he assured you, holding you even closer against him, as close as humanly possible. His heartbeat was right in your ear and you closed your eyes, listening to it and letting it calm you. “I told you I wasn’t gonna let you carry this pain alone, darlin’. You remember that?”
You nodded against his chest, whispering, “I remember.”
“Well then, you’ve gotta let me help you,” Joel said into your hair. “For three months, I’ve been tryin’ but you just keep pushin’ me away. It doesn’t work like that. I need you to lean on me. I need for you to let me back in and help you because the road you’re headin’ down right now is a dangerous one.”
Opening your eyes, you pulled away from him slightly, just far enough to meet his worried gaze. You could see the absolute fucking hell that you had been putting him through and felt your heart clench painfully inside of your chest. “I know I can’t keep going on like this, Joel,” You admitted softly to him. “Believe me, I know that. I tried so hard to get a fucking grip. There have been so many days where I think to myself, today is the day that I’m going to get my shit together. But then I just think of her sweet and innocent little face and I just fall apart all over again.” You muffled another sob with the palm of your hand.
“Oh, baby.” He gave your body a gentle, but firm squeeze. If he could take your pain away, all of it, and carry it along with his own, he would do it in a fucking heartbeat.
You swallowed harshly. “I know she is far better off where she is, Joel, I know that she is. I never want her falling into the hands of FEDRA. It kills me to think of her being here in this shitty fucking place, going to their shitty fucking school.” Your voice broke at the mere thought of it all. “We know what would happen, Joel. As soon as she comes of age and meets their requirement, they will put her through their recruiting program. After her training, they either deem her worthy of becoming a fucking ruthless officer or they will give her the shittiest civilian jobs making her work for scraps of nothing, the same way they do to us.”
Joel sighed, rubbing your back again. “I know, baby. I know. It’s why we did what we did. We did what we had to do to spare her from that shit.”
“But then there’s this selfish part of me that wants her back so badly, so fucking badly that it makes me fucking ache,” You confessed, guilt lacing your tone of voice. “I just want the hurt to stop. I want to be at peace with the decision that we made, but the way I miss her, it feels almost impossible. I feel like I’ll never be able to accept that this is the way things have to be.”
“You have to accept it—we have to accept it. We ain’t got a choice,” Joel spoke the truth to you as gently as he could, though he knew it wouldn’t make a difference.
“I know,” You whispered, your eyes glazing over with fresh tears.
He stared at you for a moment and then pressed his lips against your forehead. Deciding it was time to show you what he’d been keeping a secret from you, Joel reached into the pocket of his jeans, pulling out a small, crumpled up wad of brown tissue paper. With one of his arms still around you, he used both of his hands to unwrap the tissue paper only to reveal a delicate silver chain—a bit too old to be shiny, but still in good shape nonetheless. Joel picked it up and tossed the tissue off to the side. He held it up in front of you to give you a better look at it.
A single white pearl hung from the chain.
“Joel, where did you get this?” You gasped lightly, taking it from him with trembling fingers. You didn’t even want to know what the hell he must have had to do or trade for it. Sure, jewelry was one of the most useless items that anyone could possess in this world because it no longer had any monetary value, but if someone wanted something bad enough and another person had it, then advantage was going to be taken somewhere, somehow.
“Don’t you worry ‘bout that, darlin’.”
You glanced up at him, an incredulous look in your eyes. “Joel.”
He almost chuckled, knowing you wouldn't let him off that easy. “I’d mentioned to Tess that I wanted to get you somethin’ special to carry around with you, somethin’ that would remind you of her. Tess said a pearl was the birthstone for June, and so I asked her to help me find one a few weeks ago. She found some guy and I cut a deal for it. But that’s all I’m tellin’ you.”
Joel took the necklace from you and beckoned for you to turn around for him. Moving your hair aside, he reached around you and clasped it at the back of your neck. “I’d rather only you wear it when you’re here in the apartment. Once you go outside, it stays hidden in your pocket so no one sees it, alright?”
You turned back around to face him. “I don’t even know what to say. I can’t believe you did this for me, Joel.” You reached for his hands and held them tightly in your own as you shot him a sincere, grateful look. “Thank you.”
He leaned forward, lightly brushing his mouth against yours. “Baby?”
“Yes?” You murmured against his lips.
Joel squeezed your hands, hesitating for a moment before he said, “I know I’ve only ever said it to you once—that night. Outside of Bill and Frank’s place. But I need you to know that I love you. The truth is, I’ve been lovin’ you for a long time now. Never had it in me to admit it, not even to myself.” His eyes met yours in such a tender way that you felt a part of your broken heart begin to heal itself. It was just a small part, and you knew that unless you had your daughter back, it would never mend itself completely. Still, it was enough to give you a sense of hope. It was just enough to remind you that you would be able to find the strength in you to survive this pain. If you had any reason to keep going, it was right there it front of you. It was Joel. “I love you. I’m gonna do everythin’ that I can to help you through this. All you’ve gotta do is lean on me, alright?”
“I love you, Joel.” Though you’d said it to him once before, it still felt a bit foreign to say out loud.
It felt right, though. And it felt right hearing him say it to you.
Reaching up, you lightly clasped the pearl in your hand. You leaned into Joel’s chest and felt him wrap his arms around you.
“Y’know,” Joel said, breaking the momentary silence that had fallen over you, “Tess said Frank’s been wondering why we haven’t been over to see her yet. I know it might still be a bit too soon for you, but—” He let his sentence trail.
Though he didn’t say it out loud, you could hear it in his voice.
He wanted to see the baby.
“I’m not ready for that just yet,” You admitted. “I want to see her more than anything, but look at me. I’m a fucking mess.” You paused, clutching onto the pearl a little tighter. “Maybe we can try in a few weeks? What do you think?”
Joel kissed the top of your head. “Soon as you’re ready, say the word and we’ll go.”
#joel miller x you#joel miller x reader#joel miller imagine#joel miller angst#joel miller hbo#joel miller pedro pascal#joel miller x female reader#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x wife!reader#joel miller x y/n#joel miller drabble#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fic#fic: tdtrt
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First off, I love your writing and I can’t get enough really. I’ve been obsessed with your atla stuff and I was wondering if you’d be down to write for Sokka. Any smut really but like something like, you’re traveling with the gaang and there’s tons of tension with him. If not no hard feelings whatsoever, just a suggestion.
Do You?
Sokka x Fem Reader Smut
Summary: There's been a lot of tension between you and Sokka for the past couple of weeks. After and heated argument, Anng send both of you to get some air. Sokka finds you in a tavern after a couple of drinks and both your feelings come to the surface.
Word Count: 1.0k+
TW: Smut
<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3
Appa had been sick for the past couple days, meaning you guys were basically stranded until he was better. It didn’t help that you and Sokka had been going at it lately. You weren’t really sure why but everything he did drove you crazy. Anng paired the two of you up to skin the fish for tonight's dinner. The entire time he was criticizing you about how you were descaling it. Bragging about back home he could prepare a fish faster than anyone.
“Oh so since you’re the best and can do it ‘fAsTeR tHaN aNyOnE’ you can do this on your own,” you said, standing up and wiping your hands.
“Sloppy help is better than no help,” he huffed.
“Whatever, I'll go help Katara,” you said.
“Wait no- okay I’ll chill with the critiques. Let me teach you,” he said, reaching his hand out.
Without saying anything, you walked back over and sat on your knees. He sat behind you, his knees on the outside of your hips and thighs. Giving you the knife and securing your grip with his own. Holding onto the outsides of your hands as he instructed. As he talked, you could feel his breath against the back of your neck. Due to him being so close to your ear, he lowered his voice. Speaking with a soft and gentle tone, making your ears burn slightly. You began unknowingly letting yourself enjoy this. The way you could feel his chest rising and falling against your back. Liking the feeling of his body against yours and his smell engulfing your nose.
“See,even you can do it!” he said in an extremely patronizing way.
“Fuck off,” you said, feeling overwhelmed by how much you were enjoying his touch. Also not appreciating his poking fun at you even more.
“Ugh you’re exhausting, even when I try being nice you push me away. Can't you see that I like -ahem- that I’m like, trying to make an effort!” he said, cheeks flushing red.
“That’s it! I’m tired of hearing the two bickering none stop. Both of you need space from each other! Sokka you go that way, y/n you go that way. I don’t care what you do, but don’t come back until you figure out why both of you are so insufferable!” Anng yelled, slamming his glider onto the ground.
The two of you made intense eye contact before walking away. Luckily for you, he sent you in the direction of a local market in the village. The walk gave you a lot of time to think; when he was helping you skin the fish, it felt like he had underlying feelings. Like he was purposely finding an excuse to be close to you. The tone in his voice was different, you never heard him talk like that to anyone else. The way he slid his hands along your arms before grabbing your hands. It was becoming evident that the frustration and tension you’ve been feeling wasn’t caused by anger.
You finally reached a tavern, it wasn’t much but it was cozy. Drunk men singing and goofing off with each other. A group of women gossiping with each other adjacent to a group of men playing Pai Sho. Immediately feeling out of place, you walk up to the barmaid and ask for whatever she recommended. Which ended up being some type of fermented wine. One of the young men comes up to you, trying to engage in conversation.
“Are you new to town? I’ve been coming here for a couple years but I've never seen you,” he says, smiling while holding his drink.
“Oh um, yeah I’m just staying in town for a couple days,” you explain, finishing off your drink and ordering another one.
“Aww that’s a shame, I bet I could convince you to stay for a little longer,” he said, which made you giggle.
You were now polishing off your third drink, watching the game. Enjoying the music, making conversation with the other patrons. Dancing with the group of young women from earlier. You didn’t realize Sokka was watching you from the wooden doors. Eventually the young gentlemen who you were speaking with earlier, starts to dance with you. Sokka was visibly getting more irritated, watching his hand travel down your back. Once the guy wrapped his arms around you, pressing himself against you from behind, he couldn’t control himself. Stomping over and pulling you out of the dude's grip. Your heart sank once your eyes fell onto him. Like you’d been caught doing something wrong, looking you up and down with such disappointment.
“We're leaving,” Sokka growled, grabbing you by the upper arm gently.
“Does she want to leave with you,” the guy asked.
“Do you?” Sokka asked, looking down at you. Feeling quite tipsy it made you nervous to speak. Like if you opened your mouth, only stupidness would come out. He was looking at you with such intensity and jealousy, you nodded your head in agreement. Leading you out of the building, into an alley behind the building. Giving you two some privacy while waiting for him to talk.
“Are you mad?” you asked.
“I feel like I've dropped all the hits I can. I don’t know if this is like… your way of making me just admit it but I like you. If you keep pushing me away every time I come onto you then I just won’t anymore. I can’t take it,” he said, walking over to the river bank. Letting his hair free from its pony tail out of frustration. Falling onto his knees and splashing some cool water onto his face. Seeing how disappointed he was in your actions made you feel stupid. Like you were blind to all his advances and playful teasing and it was too late to let your feelings known. However, you were drunk enough to at least give it a shot. Walking over to him and joining where he sat in the grass.
“I think I was just nervous -hiccup- to tell you how I felt. Then because I was holding all my feelings inside, I became standoffish. I’m sorry,” you said, brushing the partially wet hair off his face before continuing, “Please don’t think I’m only saying this because I drank. Drunk thoughts are sober words… or is it sober words are drunk thoughts,” you begin making him laugh.
“Are you gonna make me ask for a kiss?” you asked, he took your offer and smashed his lips against yours.
Lips melting together as you straddle his lap. He sucked your bottom lip into his mouth, running his tongue over it. Moaning as you started grinding down on his dick print. The alcohol in your system was making you more ballsy, desperately grinding yourself against him. Enjoying the friction against your clit. Sokka’s mouth hung open as bucked his hips up. Gripping your hips tightly, helping work you on him. He was sitting up, back against the back wall of the tavern. You were holding his face in your hands, moaning and panting against his lips. Pressing his forehead against your chest as he started to cum. His hips spasming from underneath, you could feel his length spasm against your core, sending you into climax. Time slowed while fire was pooling in your lower abdomen and you frantically rubbed yourself against him. Letting your head fall towards, letting him support your weight while cooling down. Both of you walking hand and hand, his giving you a piggy back ride once you became too tired.
“Great, see sometimes a little space does people good. Glad you guys worked it out,” Anng said as the two of you walked to separate tents.
“Oh trust me, we really worked through our problems,” Sokka remarked before everyone turned in.
#atla sokka#atla sokka live action #sokka x reader#sokka x you#sokka x y/n#sokka imagine#sokka fanfic#sokka smut#netflix sokka#live action sokka smut#sokka smut imagine#sokka avatar the last airbender#sokka atla#sokka x fem reader
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“Pure Intentions”
Ship: Aaron Hotchner/Reader
Rating: E
Category: Fluff
Word Count: 1,162 Words
Summary: You are an agent who is also spiritual and loves crystals. So, you decide to give your favorite boss man, SSA Aaron Hotchner, black tourmaline.
Hotch really didn’t know why insomnia had chosen to haunt him on a Sunday night, but he felt the full extent of it when he stepped into the bullpen the next morning. He wasn’t really given to vanity, but he felt like his eyebags were eye-totes now, and even though he had downed a cup of coffee before leaving the house, he felt like if he was still for even a second, he’d fall asleep.
Of course the weekend he had off was when his mind barred him from a good night’s rest- the night before work, no less.
He had not been at his desk for more than ten minutes when you bustled into his office, your smile wide as usual despite being almost eight in the morning.
“Good morning! I was going to wait closer to lunch, but then Penelope told me a case came in, so I decided to give this-“ you stopped to actually look at him, and even though an amused smile was pulling at his lips, he looked so exhausted. “I’m so sorry, I should have asked how you were doing first.”
“I’m not sick, just tired,” Hotch said kindly, “what do you have?”
“Black tourmaline! I know you’re not much of a spiritualist, but the low down on it is that it sponges up negative energy! And I mean… I know you don’t exactly have a choice, you know, to be or not to be around negative energy but…” you shrugged before admitting, “It also reminded me of you too. Also, again I know you don’t put huge stock into it, but I also charged it for you.”
You put the shiny black chunk on his desk, almost shyly. He picked it up, studying it and turning it over in his hands. You half expected him to pull his reading glasses out to look at it, and if he had- well, you couldn’t rightly be held responsible for the noise you might have made.
“This reminds you of me?” Hotch asked skeptically, his brows knitted slightly.
“Mhm! It’s a bodyguard type crystal. And… I guess you have that sort of… vibe? To me anyways,” you added on a little less than tactfully as you were visibly becoming fidgety, your hands smoothing down your skirt.
“You see me as the bodyguard type.”
You put your hands on your hips, an eyebrow raising. “Did you or did you not become overprotective when I said that my car alarm was going off in the parking lot and you insisted on stealthily going towards the car first with your pistol? Or did I hallucinate that?”
“I’ve seen some things in my time, and I know malevolent people would target a woman who’s alone when she’s leaving her workplace,” Hotch said defensively. You only smiled.
“Whatever you say. Regardless, that’s for you. Maybe, one day, I’ll get a keychain for you.”
“Thank you, that was… actually thoughtful and sweet of you. You’re right that I don’t put a whole lot of stock into this… sort of thing,” he admitted as he turned the crystal over in his palm again, “but I think… I think the weight of intentions are real.”
“Maybe those intentions will carry you home safe from this case, then. Judging from the groaning sounds coming from Garcia’s cave, I’m thinking it’s a doozy. By the way…”
“Mm?”
“Do you want me to make you a cup of coffee before you go in to briefing?”
“That would be wonderful of you, thank you. One sugar-“
“-and no cream. I know how you make your coffee, Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner,” you teased.
Hotch shook his head. “The full government name.”
You turned to walk out when he called your name, and you turned back to him.
“Can you come to my desk for a second?”
You complied, going to his desk with a nervous giggle. You thought he was going to speak, but instead he simply rose from his seat and kissed your cheek.
You touched your flushing cheek with a slightly shaky hand. “What was that for?”
He shrugged. “Just a thank you for being as thoughtful as you are. Truly… you make working here a bit easier.”
“Aw, you’re going to make me cry, so I’ll laugh instead.” You were going to turn to flee, but boldness filled you and you leaned up to kiss his cheek, except he moved, and you kissed the corner of his stern lip.
“Uh-” you backed away from him.
“Don’t panic,” Hotch ordered calmly- almost too calmly- “it’s not your fault, it was mine for reacting too quickly.”
Your cheeks flushed hot red and despite his command to not panic, you immediately fled the scene, leaving behind a confused but slightly amused Aaron.
A few minutes later, JJ entered his office with his cup of coffee in one hand and sat it on his desk, the other arm full of file folders. She gestured with her head towards the bullpen, “Hey, um, Agent-“
“I know,” Hotch said with a minuscule smirk, sipping the coffee, and almost immediately moaned aloud. True to your word, you knew exactly how he takes his coffee. He kept glancing towards the crystal sitting on his desk, and when Garcia called for him to come to the briefing room, he carefully slid it in his pocket.
On the jet, after all the details of the case had been discussed, Hotch leaned back in the chair, his fourth cup of coffee of the day in his hand. Even though he made his coffee exactly the same as always, it didn’t taste nearly as good as the one you made for him. He took the black tourmaline out of his pocket and held it in his hand. It works on a jet, right? It’s closer to the sun, it has to be like the best charging method.
“What do you have there?” Rossi asked from across him, looking up from a book- a compilation of Garfield comic strips over the years.
“A crystal. I think it’s… black tourmaline?”
Reid, of course, overheard this and had to jump in with, “you know, within pagan and spiritual circles, black tourmaline has protective properties, banishing negative vibrations, and it’s also supposed to be grounding.” He looked at the crystal in Hotch’s hand. “Oh yeah, I’ve seen this crystal on that agent’s desk. She and Anderson talk about them all the time, and apparently she keeps some of them in her desk, as does Anderson.”
“She and Anderson are good friends,” Hotch volunteered. “She’s the one who gave this to me.”
“She’s a sweet girl,” Rossi commented, sounding too innocent for Hotch’s liking.
“She is,” Hotch agreed simply, not taking the bait.
He and “that agent” were going to have to have a conversation when he got back home- he was entirely too intrigued by you. Perhaps he could ask you what crystal was the best for asking someone on a date.
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𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐊
✰ PAIRING — fem!reader x quinn hughes
✰ SUMMARY — in which you and Quinn are fighting but he can’t leave without letting you know he loves you!!
✰ CONTENT — a little angst I guess, the angst isn’t really present in the fic, it’s more about the resolving of the angst. cuteness. quinn putting up with his girl’s stubborn ass. overuse of baby, I’m sorry 😭
✰ WC — 0.93K
✰ NOTE — I’m trying to get back into regularly posting blurbs and fics! I’m sorry my account has been so dry lately! Ily and thanks for sticking with me <3
you make a pointed effort not to look in quinn's direction as he enters the kitchen, keeping your glare firmly planted on your cup that coffee was slowly pouring into.
quinn knew you had seen him enter the kitchen, your shoulders had tensed the moment he walked into the room, but your eyes didn't flicker to his like they normally would, and he was fine with that. he was sure that if you did direct you attention towards him it would only be to start yelling at him. again.
he follows his normal morning routine, taking out the toaster and the bagels but hesitates after putting one in. he's unsure if he should be toasting yours, not because he's being petty over the fact that you weren't making him coffee like you normally would, simply because he's never met a more stubborn person in his life, and he wasn't sure if you'd eat it if he did toast it for you.
quinn allows the silence to drag on for a few minutes before breaking it. "you're coming to the game tonight right?” he asks
“probably,” you answer softly and quinn sighs, dropping another bagel in the toaster
quinn moves to the spot next to you, making his breakfast bagel on the counter and you resist the urge to kiss his cheek and cuddle into him like you normally would. he was even wearing his blue hoodie today, the one he knew was your favourite.
you make your way to the living room table, taking a seat on a chair and pretending to read the paper that was laying on the table. your mind was way too busy to actually focus on the words on the page but it was better than looking like you were contemplating what happened earlier that morning.
it was a stupid fight really, stemming from the fact that quinn left his dishes in the sink when you’ve repeatedly told him to just put it in the dishwasher, like how hard can it be? from there on some petty insults were exchanged as a result of exhaustion and frustration building up from the long week.
there’s a few minutes of silence again, the only sounds coming from the kitchen where Quinn was making your bagel. it’s not unusual for there to be silence in the morning, neither you or quinn were morning people. but that’s usually peaceful silence, this was tension-filled silence.
you see quinn approaching in your peripheral and a few seconds later he placed your bagel in front of you. “eat that,” he says, more like orders. and hesitates for a few seconds. he wasn’t sure if you wanted him to sit with you, or if you’d rather just be left alone.
your heart clenches a little when after a few seconds of hovering he decides to move towards the living room and plops down on the couch, eating his breakfast alone.
you were so in your head you didn’t realize the time had passed so quickly and before you knew it, quinn was getting ready to leave, putting on his shoes and grabbing his keys.
letting out a heavy sigh he makes his way towards you, gently cupping your cheek and pressing a kiss to your head and your cheek.
“Have a good day baby, I’ll see you tonight. I love you,” he says before turning to leave but you grab his hand before he gets the chance to
“I’m sorry-“ you start to apologize but he cuts you off
“You don’t have anything to be sorry for, you’re right you’re not my mother and I’m a grown man, I can clean up after myself,” he says a little teasingly, recalling your words from earlier.
“Well yes, but you also apologized for it and I blew it way out of proportion. I’ve had a horrible week and I took my frustrations out on you and I’m sorry,” you say and his gaze softens, pulling your hand to tug you out of the chair and into his chest
“It’s okay baby. I know you’ve had a stressful week, we all have those. God knows I have them and I take it out on you way more than you do to me. I’ll argue with you about dishes in the sink if that’s what you need to let off some steam, as long as we can make up again before one of us has to leave. I don’t like being away from you knowing you’re pissed at me. At least when I’m home I get to see how sexy you look when you glare at me from across the room,” Quinn says, placing a kiss just below your ear and you shiver a little when his beard scratches the skin there.
“Well there’s other ways we can blow off steam rather than arguing,” you suggest and Quinn lets out a soft laugh against your neck
“You wanna show me?” he mumbles, hands falling to your ass and you laugh pushing him away
“Maybe tonight, you’re gonna be late,” you say, walking to the kitchen and grabbing the lunch you packed for Quinn before he even came downstairs
“You sure it’s safe to eat?” Quinn teases, knowing you made it when you were still mad
“Your sandwich may be a little spicier than usual, but you’ll live,” you say, patting his chest and he laughs, giving you a quick peck before he’s out the door.
not even his plate and coffee mug from breakfast sitting in the sink was enough to remove the smile on your face after that.
#quinn hughes x reader#quinn hughes fic#quinn hughes x y/n#quinn hughes oneshot#quinn hughes fluff#quinn hughes fanfiction#quinn hughes blurb#quinn hughes imagine
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Pearl and Gem glance at each other. Then, as one, they glance back at Tango, who is, evidently, not Tango.
“Do we have an amnesiacold on our hands?” Gem asks.
“Maybe,” says Pearl, glancing back at Tango again. “Tango, buddy, you feeling alright?”
“I—” Tango opens his mouth. Closes it again. “I mean, I’m a little under the weather, to tell you the truth—I ate a South African sausage and it disagreed with me.”
Pearl hums. “And it’s messed with your memory a bit, right?”
“Yes! I mean, no—I mean, how did you—?”
“Would you say that you have a bit of an amnesiacold, Tango?” asks Gem.
“Amnesiacold?”
“You know. Amnesiacold!” Gem says. “When you get sick and forget everything and feel like somebody else?”
“Ah.” Tango pulls himself to shore. Frowns. “It’s more of an amnesia-food-poisoning, if I’m honest.”
Pearl winces. “Your poor digestive system.”
“It’s not very nice Pearl, I’ll tell you that much,” Tango says, voice low, one hand pressed against his stomach as he pulls a face.
“Okay, that’s enough, I don’t need to hear about your gut issues,” Gem interrupts. “But—you have an amnesiacold! You know, I was an amnesiacold last season.”
“You mean, you had an amnesiacold?”
“No, I was one.” Gem winks. “Like—Tango has an amnesiacold. But you? You’re the amnesiacold. You know?”
Tango’s shoulders hike up with discomfort. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m Tango. And I think you guys should—should skadoodle somewhere else. Should bother-someone-else-ificate. Begone.”
“I had an amnesiacold last season, you know,” Pearl says. “Gem was one. You can tell us, buddy, we’re not gonna tell anyone.”
“Promise,” Gem says with a nod. “This is a safe space! You don’t have to pretend to be someone you’re not with us.”
Tango stares at them for a long, long moment, then sags, face falling. He looks exhausted, suddenly, and Pearl feels a rush of sympathy. It can’t be easy, being thrown into the game halfway through, with no context for anything.
“It’s been rough, dudes,” Tango says, voice cracking. “It’s been really really rough. I forgot how hard it was to get anything done on this server! There’s so much chaos, and—”
Wait.
“Ren?”
Not-Tango grins. “In the flesh,” he says with a bow of his head. “Or… not my flesh, exactly.”
“Ren?” Gem asks, tilting her head in confusion.
“Oh, that’s right, you’ve never met…”
Gem and Ren peer at each other for a moment. “You do look familiar,” Ren says eventually.
“Yeah,” Gem agrees. “I mean, obviously you look familiar—you look like Tango!—but… yeah.”
They stare at each other for a moment more.
“Maybe we met in a dream?” Ren says at last.
Gem nods. “Sure. Makes as much sense as anything else.”
Pearl glances between them, rocking awkwardly back on her heels. She clears her throat, drawing their attentions back to her. “Welcome back, buddy,” she says to Ren. “Good to see you again.”
“I wish that I could say the same,” Ren says morosely. “I thought I was—I was done, Pearl.” Now that she knows it's Ren, she can hear his cadence in Tango’s voice, voice dropping rough and low with drama as he bows his head. “I was done. No more games, not for the ol’ diggity dog. And now… Here I am!” He laughs a little, stretching out his arms to indicate the server at large. “In a body that’s not mine, in a world I’ve never seen, in a game I do not understand.”
“Oh, Ren…” Pearl frowns. She doesn’t know what to say.
Gem jumps in. “Hey, it’s okay! It’s just one session, you know? You can do one session!”
“I suppose I must.” Ren looks up at them, jaw tightening. “If I am here—I suppose I must.”
“I’d never been in any of these games before I was Cleo for a bit last season,” Gem says. “So you have an advantage there! And, hey—maybe you can come back next season, and we can meet for real?”
Ren shifts uncomfortably. There’s something heavy hanging about him, something Pearl can’t quite understand. She remembers the last time she’d seen him, skull caved in from the dripstone spike dropped on his head. She remembers her own amnesiacold, the exhaustion that had dragged at her before it had settled in, the memories that had plagued her and just wouldn’t go away. And she wonders—
Just how exhausted would you have to be that your body would have to leave as well as the rest of your self?
Just how sick would you have to be before you didn’t want to come back?
Still, Ren steadies himself. Quirks Tango’s mouth into a smile. “Maybe,” he says, meeting Gem’s gaze. “That would be nice, to meet for real.”
#secret life#spoilers#fanfiction#obligatory post-session ficlet time!#there was so much going on this session i could have gone with almost anything for this#but amnesiacolds is where we landed#this one is very much playing with martyn's lore which i think is very fun#also. i miss rendog when will he come back from the war ;-;#magpie feather quill
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more observations (lost count)✨
Hello guys! Life's been crazy lately and I barely have time to make any of the master posts I wanted to, so you'll be getting lost of observation posts that I've been collecting in my drafts for the past months. As always, enjoy!
❗️long post
work by astrobydalia
✨ Sagittarius and Aquarius are so fucking similar. Both of them are chaotic af, love their freedom and think they're smarter than everyone else. People who have both of these in their big 6 have the most unhinged
✨ Libra is WAY more obsessed with perfection than Virgo
✨ Whenever I had Libra or Taurus ASC on my Solar return chart I was lazy AS FUCK. I had no motivation to work whatsoever during those years, all I wanted to do was vibe and enjoy life. I also felt very relaxed and stress-free, when difficulties came I just went with the flow
✨ What is up with Gemini risings and always feeling intellectually insecure all the time? Literally their #1 insecurity is feeling like they are dumb or like they’re not good enough for highly abstract and intellectual tasks/professions. They come across as someone immature who lacks wisdom or has a superficial/simplistic view of things. I feel like this is because they attract people who are a bit of know-it-alls (Sagittarius DSC) and they have a reputation for being scattered-brained (Pisces 10th house) so people tent to infantilize them a lot.
^^^But let me tell you this not true at all, Gemini risings are some of the most brilliant people I’ve met with so much potential. Their problem is that they allow overthinking to get the best of them and end up doubting themselves 24/7. These are the type of people who have amazing ideas but they never pursue any them. They really struggle making decisions for themselves, they always need to ask for opinions first which is not a bad thing but this makes them come across as incapable or as someone who lacks self-sufficiency
✨ Mercurial signs (Virgo and Gemini) like to focus on concrete things and immediate reality, they process life by connecting one thing at a time and taking info as it comes, they focus on what's going on around them cause Mercury is all about multiplicity and details. With Jupiter signs on the other hand (Sag and Pisces) one thing about them is they don't care about details as long as things make sense as a whole, they see life from a more broad and general perspective, they prefer having a birds eye view of things because Jupiter is all about expansion and therefore it likes to encompass many things at once. This is why Virgo and Gemini rule mundane life themes and immediate reality while Sag and Pisces are more about general life lessons and higher knowledge
✨ Scorpio moons/8th house moons are the definition of an energy vampire fr. They just have a really poor understanding of healthy emotional boundaries, they expect you to give your all but aren't willing to reciprocate and always turn everything into a manipulation or mind game somehow which makes it pretty exhausting to be around them in the long run. Don't get me wrong, most of the ones I’ve met were very and good people but they always end up taking my energy away and make me feel emotionally burnt out
✨ Mercury-Mars aspects have this "it is what it is" mentality and really dislike over complicating things by reading too deep into them. They tend to think things exactly as they seem. This does not mean they're simplistic, on the contrary this makes them surprisingly insightful fast thinkers and are not the type to be easily fooled
✨ I've seen people saying that hard aspects between Mercury-Pluto makes people misunderstand your words. This is not true, this happens with Neptune cause Neptune rules delusion, but Pluto is a very blunt and straightforward planet cause it's all about revealing the dark truths. Mercury-Pluto aspects makes someone very deliberate with their words and they know exactly what to say to make their message stick. You will understand their words exactly how they want you to understand them. What happens with hard aspects is that the native tends to have a more provocative approach in the things they say, they don't care if you're offended by what they say as long as what they say makes an impact. People can misunderstand their intentions because of this, but not their words
✨ The ironic thing about Aquarius placements is that they are very good when it comes to connecting with the masses, the public usually feels very drawn to them because they're very good at appealing to collective values which makes them come across as relatable to many people as a result. However, when you actually try to relate to them or connect one-on-one, you will find yourself with someone that is surprisingly elusive, distant and more distrustful than Scorpio placements which is a huge contrast from the welcoming vibe they give off to the public. I've found that the only way you will get close to an Aquarius placements is on THEIR terms lmao, if they've decided they like you, it'll be them who will approach you and/or make the effort to engage with you
✨ A reocurring thing I've seen with Virgo placements is that they really dislike big changes and prefer to stay in control. I think this is not mentioned often cause it's kinda weird to say that about a mutable sign, but Virgos being mercury+earth ruled they feel comfortable relying on facts, data, observations, etc and they use all this tangible info to navigate reality, that's why they rule daily life and routines because they invest a lot of their energy on factually understanding and categorizing their reality (earth signs in general are very attached to the tangible). Their mutable nature shows in that they easily use their knowledge to adapt, find solutions and fix what’s wrong but when they are in situations where these "categories" prove to be useless (aka Pisces themes), they get very triggered cause that means they no longer have control of their reality
✨ That being said another reoccurring thing I’ve noticed with Virgo placements is that they love to predict things. But not in a mystical sense it’s more like they enjoy understanding things in such way that they’re able to easily put a label on them and easily predict what’s going on or how something works
✨ I have not seen a single Taurus placement who didn’t have the most insanely sexy and pleasant voice ever. Doesn’t matter if they sing of not, just hearing their voice is so delightful
✨ Aquarius Mercury really believe their opinions are the most ultimate and correct opinions out there. They are certain that their judgment is always 100% objective (aka always true) so in their mind if you slightly disagree with them that means you’re mediocre, dumb or narrow-minded.
✨ There's always a duality in all mutable signs. Sagittarius can be very humorous and optimistic but also very dark and profound. Gemini can be curious and chaotic but also very analytical and logical. Virgo can be picky and perfectionistic but also very permissive and conformist. Pisces can be very compassionate and wise but also very detached and clueless
✨ Neptune does not do well in air houses/signs at all simply because air energy rules (different types of) information and connections, while Neptune is all delusion and confusion. Also air energy is purely cerebral and rational while Neptune appeals to the unconscious
✨ I have not fact-checked this but I feel like it's safe to say that Mars rules testosterone. Testosterone is a hormone associated to violence or impulsive behavior, sex drive, red blood cells (blood), masculinity, etc That's literally all mars
✨ People always talk about how Capricorn moons have had a rough life but I've noticed this is also very true for Sagittarius Moons?? Responsibilities are not imposed on them like Capricorn, in their case they have to build up wisdom about life through pure and raw experience without anyone giving them a heads up or any pointers first, that's why they grow up feeling like they're fully on their own. Things work out for them at the end but they always have most MESSY life experience it's really crazy
✨ Both domicile and afflicted Mars are ambitious and determined but the main difference is that Libra/Taurus/Cancer Mars need to find some type of enjoyment or fulfillment in their goals in order to get motivated while Capricorn/Aries/Scorpio Mars find motivation in the challenge and endure through stuff they don't find pleasant
✨ From what I've seen males with Scorpio placements are very superficial and will gaslight as a lifestyle. They are the type of people who look the other way or brush things off or never takes anything seriously and I've noticed they do this so they never have to take accountability.
✨ Neptune/Pisces energy either gives “glamorous and ethereal” vibes or “weird in an extremely cringe way” vibes, there’s no in-between
✨ A reoccurring thing I've noticed with those who have Chiron in Taurus/2nd house or Chiron-Venus is that they often have dubious morality or double standards because they don't have a solid values
✨ Every single Libra Moon/rising female I’ve met embodied the material girl stereotype. They really have this “instagram girl” vibes to them if that makes sense
✨ Those with Sagittarius in the 5th house can actually find a lot of joy and happiness in becoming parents or they have a lot of fun with children
✨ Scorpio Mars can't stand not knowing what's going on around them and at first I thought this was bc they were suspicious/paranoid but then I realized it’s because they’re just controlling as shit. They come across as very chill and care fee but they’re actually SUPER controlling dude. Even when they know for sure that they can trust you and you’re doing nothing wrong they still want to keep taps on you and won’t leave you alone. They won't bluntly violate your privacy but will still find ways to always know what you're up to
✨ The resentful and spiteful stereotype associated to Scorpio actually belongs to Leo placements imo. They can be very reactive and childish when you insult their ego and will make it very known that they won't let it go
✨ Cancer North Node people always have some sort of issue or inner conflict with of having kids. They feel drawn to the idea of becoming a parent but deep down they low-key don't? I've also seen many women with this placement who had fertility issues
I have the theory that these natives are conflicted in this topic because they see family as an achievement or a societal expectation (Capricorn south node) so in this life time they have to know what it's like to desire a family for the right reasons and not because they feel like they 'should'
✨ Capricorn risings really are hyper-aware of their public image and how others perceive them. That's why they always end up becoming very popular and respected, cause they know very well where they "stand" publicly so they know how to successfully curate their own reputation. It's not surprising to see this placement a lot in celebrities
✨ Pluto in the 12th house are genuinely unsure of who they can trust which leads to a lot of paranoia and projection. The type to ignore the most obvious red flags but then automatically doubt your loyalty cus you spoke in a suspicious tone
✨ Pisces/12th house placements 🤝 disappearing. Y’all shit on Gemini for ghosting but have you ever met a pisces/12th houser?
✨ Saturn in 5th house people had parents (namely father) who were overly critical of them and their self-expression. Doesn’t necessarily mean they were unsupportive of the native but they were quite hard on the native’s creativity
✨ I've seen a lot of bullies/mean girls have Aquarius placements. Honorable mentions: virgo, Leo, libra
✨ Neptune-ASC people are really good at making themselves invisible when they want and/or making parts of themselves go completely unnoticed even if they're bluntly obvious. I've noticed they actually get away with a lot cause they have this tendency to not be accurately seen by others if that makes sense
✨ Neurodivergent individuals usually have Mercury harshly aspecting (conjunction, square, opposition and inconjuction) Uranus and Saturn. Said Mercury is more often than not in a water house/sign/degree or in Aries. Of course not everyone with these aspects will be neurodivergent, but it's just a pattern I've seen
✨ Pluto-ASC people most of the times fail to have a lighthearted view towards life. They always want to look beyond the surface of things which doesn't really allow them to enjoy life as it is. They often get a reputation for looking too deep into everything and in turn the Pluto-asc native often sees others as superficial
✨ Virgo risings are huge conformist and won’t go after anything that’s outside their immediate boundaries. They only make an effort towards things that are accessible and will quickly lose interest in anything that has difficult availability or requires them to go way out of their comfort zone. They're overall pretty self-serving.
✨ I know several people diagnosed with OCD. All of them have Virgo AND 6th house placements, 22º in their big 3, Scorpio Mercury/Moon and Mercury dominance
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also i LOVE your poly!marauders apocalypse au (so creative btw!! i'm obsessed!!) and would be so down to read something in that universe where the reader gets hypothermia or something like that hehe !!!! <333333
Thanks for requesting lovely!
cw: mild hypothermia
apocalypse poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words
You keep tripping, which is mildly embarrassing. You think it’s a combination of fatigue and the general numbness that’s pervaded your body even though the layers you’d put on when you’d packed up the campsite that morning. You’d all agreed that, with the death eaters on your trail, it’s really only safe to stay in one area for a few days at a time, even with all the protections you place around your sites. But that means days where, instead of lounging around your tent, listening to the radio and plotting for the Order, you use all the daylight you have to hike through the wintry woods until you’re far enough away to set up another camp.
Sirius glances back when you stumble again, the toe of your boot catching on a branch you hadn’t seen buried in the snow. It’s a more dramatic affair than it should be, and you barely get your other foot out in front of you fast enough to avoid face-planting into the leaf litter.
Your shivering worsens as another gust of wind burns your face, making your thick jacket feel like mesh. You think this has to be the worst moving day your group has had yet. The cold is the same, but the sun hasn’t so much as peeked from behind the clouds all day and the wind makes it nearly unbearable. The snow is thick enough that you’ve started stepping in the boys’ footprints to save energy. One of the many perks of taking up the rear.
You nearly hit Sirius when he stops in front of you.
“This clearing looks about as good as any,” James is saying, but Remus looks hesitant.
“I don’t know,” he frets. “Do you think it’s far enough? We’ve been slow today.”
“You’re tired,” James says kindly. You look at Remus, noting his slouched posture, the weariness he’s never quite learned to hide from his expression. You’re not sure how you didn’t notice his exhaustion before. You’re usually more aware of those things. “And it’s horrid out here. Let’s just call it a night, and if you’re still anxious about it tomorrow we’ll go a bit further.”
“I can make it further tonight.”
“It’s not all about you, Moony,” Sirius drawls. He looks especially monochrome against all the fresh white snow, you think. His superblack hair is as eye-catching as neon. “I’ve got a rock in my shoe I’d love to get out, and I know y/n’s knees have to be black and blue from the way she’s been falling for the past hour.”
His scheme works; Remus looks to you, arguments of his own fortitude forgotten. “Are you tired, dove? You want to stop?”
You shrug. “Yeah, I guess. It’s cold.”
Suddenly all three boys seem focussed intently on you. You’re not sure why. You don’t actually recall much of what you’d been talking about.
“Could you say that again?” James asks you. His brows are stitched together and his eyes have gone all sharp behind his glasses.
“I just said it’s cold.”
“Why’re you talking like that, doll?” Sirius takes a step toward you, then looks to Remus. “Why is she slurring?”
“I don’t know,” Remus says softly. He’s looking at you weird, too. Frowny. “Yeah, let’s set up. Maybe she just needs a rest.”
James spells the tent up quickly, then makes Remus stay and sit with you while he and Sirius set up the protections and everything else. The temperature inside the magical tent is cozy. Remus lights a fire in the grate to warm you all up.
“Do you feel okay, lovely?” he asks, helping you out of your jacket. You sit on the bed, working off your shoes.
“Yeah, just…just really tired.”
He furrows his eyebrows, placing a palm on your cheek. You have no clue how it’s so warm, but a sigh escapes you as you lean into the touch.
“When did you start tripping?” he asks you.
You…you’re not sure. You can’t remember the first time it happened. How long had you been walking?
Your bemusement must show on your face, because Remus’ mouth pinches. His hand slides down to cup your face, fingers pressing oddly into your jaw. Frankly, you could care less where he puts them so long as he keeps touching you.
“Feeling better?” James asks, materializing behind Remus. You’re not sure which one of you he’s talking to, but you hum contentedly anyway.
“I think she might be hypothermic,” Remus doesn’t look away from you as he talks, his eyebrows lowered like he’s waiting for you to answer a question you don’t remember him asking. His fingers press harder into your neck. “Her pulse is…scary weak.”
James looks at you, and you look at Remus.
“You really think so?” you ask him, befuddled. “I don’t feel…I’m only tired.”
“Hypothermia makes you tired,” he tells you gently. “And you’re slurring your words, love.”
You feel an icy tendril of fear snake around your spine. “I am?”
“You’re alright.” James catches onto your panic quickly, leaning over Remus to give your shoulders a bolstering squeeze. “Let’s just get some of these layers off you, and then we’ll swaddle you in blankets.” He starts easing off your jumper, leaving you in just your undershirt. You’re newly cognizant of the sluggishness of your movements as you raise your arms to help him. “Once you sit by the fire for a bit, you’ll be feeling back to normal in no time.”
You nod numbly, lifting your bum to tug off the jeans you’d worn over leggings. James takes the blanket from the bed and wraps it around you while Remus goes to find more in the other room.
“Poor love,” James coos, dropping a kiss to your head. “You’re shaking like a leaf.”
“No duh,” Sirius says, the tent flap letting in a blast of cool air behind him. “It’s fucking freezing out.”
James offers him a sorry smile. “We think she’s got hypothermia.”
Sirius sobers, stormcloud eyes flickering to you. “Shit, really? How bad is that?”
“Not too bad, I don’t think,” Remus says, nudging past him with a stack of blankets in his arms. “I mean, it’d be great if I’d thought to bring any books on that sort of thing, but I’m fairly sure if it were bad she’d be more confused and a bit…blueish.” He drapes a blanket over your shoulders, letting James pull it tighter and tuck it about as he wishes. “Do you feel any better?”
“I think so,” you say quietly. It’s a bit unnerving to be at the center of so much alarm like this. You do feel better being out of the cold, but you’re not sure if that’s what he’s asking. “It’s a little hard to tell.”
“You don’t seem like you’re slurring as badly,” James evaluates. He cups the back of your neck, planting a kiss on the frozen tip of your nose. “I think you’re getting better already, lovie.”
Your face certainly feels warmer.
Sirius grins at your flustering, though it’s dampened by worry. “What about a hot chocolate?” he asks, tone unusually gentle. “Does that sound like it might help?”
“I’m fine,” you say, and he disregards you immediately, posing the same question to Remus.
“Would that help?”
Remus shrugs. “It could. Doubt it would hurt. James, love, I think she’s got enough blankets.”
James frowns, peering through the layers of covering to find your face. “Do you feel warm enough, angel?”
You blink, owlish. “I think so?”
He shakes his head. “Sounds far from certain. More blankets it is. Sirius, get started on the hot chocolate.”
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