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livinginshambles · 9 months

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How much are we worth? | James Potter

Pairing: James Potter x Fem!Reader

Word count: 5.8k

Summary: Sirius bets that James can't get a girl to go out with him. James pursues you and falls for you. You are hurt when you find out that you were just a bet, even more when you realise how little they bet on you.

Notes: A classic: Strangers to friends to lovers, Angst, Bet trope, Fluff and happy ending because yey, I believe in second chances :) Existence of a wardrobe that works like newt scamanders suitcase and SPeLLing Mistakes

Masterlist

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In hindsight, you should've known.

"Have you maybe considered giving up on her?" Remus' question caught James off guard when he returned to the marauders at the Gryffindor table after another failed attempt and rejection by Lily.

"Not until she's given me a chance at least," James responded, eyes trained on Lily's retreating figure. "Besides, this chasing game is sort of our thing now."

The marauders nodded sceptically.

"Not particularly the dynamic I'd want to have with the person I fancy," Peter whispered, loud enough for everyone to hear. James shot him a look as if Peter had just committed the greatest betrayal of the century.

Sirius snorted out loud. "Dynamic my ass, yeah." He threw a piece of bread across the table in James' direction.

"He's stuck with Lily now because if he decides to chase some other poor girl and inevitably get rejected, it'll prove that James Potter just can't get some," he added, wearing a shit eating grin on his face.

James pulled a face at Sirius. "Oh please I can get girls. It's just that contrary to you, I actually show commitment to only one," he huffed.

Sirius shrugged. "You say that, but you've never even had a girlfriend. Been pining over Evans since first year. Besides, commitment or being stuck," he weighed his hands in the air. "Same same."

James rolled his eyes and got up. When he turned around, he crashed into someone who had been standing behind him, tripping her, and he sent her crashing into the Ravenclaw table behind him. The Ravenclaw sitting at that table ducked out of the way. She stuck her hands out to brace herself and loudly hissed when her hand ended up in someone's scalding soup.

"Godric, I am so sorry," James scrambled to offer her a napkin. She snatched it out of his hands and dried her hands. James saw that they were scorching red and more apologies stumbled out of his mouth.

"Let me help you get to madam Pomfrey," he offered, concern lacing his tone. He reached his hand out to her and she jerked away.

"Fuck off Potter, I'd rather take a bloody bath in boiling water than go anywhere with you." She spat, and left, hand pressed against her chest, covered by the napkin.

The commotion had everyone turn their heads at him and despite usually being a fan of being at the centre of attention, he embarrassedly sat down again.

"Guess really no girl wants to go anywhere with you, Prongs," Sirius snickered. James offered him a sour look.

"This was just because I literally burned her hand, Pads. Any other time, she would totally go out with me." James boasted, but guilt and concern for the girl who he didn't know, lingered in his mind.

"Right, you wanna bet?"

"The usual?"

"The usual."

They sealed the deal with a nod. Peter and Remus shared a look but they knew that was no use trying to tell them to stop it already. Remus thought back to the scowl on the girl's face and prayed that she would stay headstrong and reject James.

After all, Sirius and James were from wealthy families, so money has never actually played a role during these bets. It’s just the principle of it that counts and is the reason why they only ever bet one galleon. It meant someone would get hurt.

The scowl on your face disappeared with the cool relief of the running water from the girls bathroom on your hand, but the bitter feeling remained when your mind wandered to James Potter. You scoffed to yourself. Arrogant, self pretentious, blood boiling bully. Though never having been a victim of their pranks, you lost several friends to Beauxbatons because of the marauders’ cruelty.

You glanced at yourself in the mirror one last time and left for your Ancient Runes class where you walked to your designated seat next to Lily Evans. You two unsurprisingly got along. Though your personalities were nothing alike, you being rather reserved, you could both value each other’s calm presence and even ‘maturity’ to a certain degree.

She offered you a smile and you nodded at her in acknowledgement. “I’m embarrassed to ask this, but could I maybe share your book? I didn’t have time to pick it up after lunch.” Lily gave you a surprised look but quickly assured you that you could to which you offered her a small but grateful smile.

She opened her mouth to tell you something, when something else, or rather someone else, caught her attention. Before he even reached the table, she had already attempted to ward him off in a monotone voice. “Go away Potter, I’m not interested.”

“Not here for you, Lilypad,” he smugly said and stopped right next to you. Lily raised her eyebrows and looked at you with a concerned look. Without looking up from Lily’s book, you also repeated Lily’s words. “Fuck off Potter, I’m not interested either.”

“I haven’t even said anythi-“

“And I don’t want you to.”

“Okay, but here me out, I-“

“I. Don’t. Want. You. To,” you pronounced every word clearly.

“Come on, just listen-“

You turned around, an incredibly sour look on your face. James couldn’t help but admire you for a moment. You looked pretty, contorted face aside. Especially when you had smiled at Lily. It had caught him off guard.

“Can you spare me a second?” He tried again. For a second, he thought he saw a look of appreciation cross your face at his formulated words, but it was gone in a split second.

“No. Class is starting, get back to your seat Potter,” you dryly responded. You turned back to your book and James walked back to his friends.

James potter was determined though, you had to give him that. You abruptly turned on your heels, ready to walk in the opposite direction, even if it would mean a detour of about 8 minutes to your destination. You were really not into his crap today.

“Y/N!” James called out to you and chased you.

“I told you to call me by my last name. We're not friends, Potter. I don’t want to be. In fact, I don’t want anything to do with you. So, for Merlin’s sake, leave me alone, or I swear on his balls that I will hurt you.” You spat the last part out through gritted teeth and

James took a step back in surprise. He looked at you for a moment, carefully considering his next words. “L/N.” He settled on, voice quieter. When you didn’t immediately walk off, he took it as a sign to continue. “I was wondering if you would allow me to sit next to you during our free period between Transfiguration and Potions.”

You raised you eyebrows.

“My friends all took classes and there’s like a two hour gap and I like company, that’s all,” he hastily explained before you could go and reject him.

“What are you, six years old?” You sarcastically asked him. “Can’t spend what, two hours on your own?”

James’ eyes averted to the ground. “Just not enjoying being alone,” he mumbled, almost embarrassedly. You looked at him, great, now you were being an asshole yourself.

“You know the big old wardrobe in the abandoned classroom on the seventh floor?” you eventually asked. James’ eyes lit up and nodded.

“It’s bigger on the inside.” You said.

“A secret room?” He asked while trying to recall seeing an extra room on the map. You nodded. “Not even visible on your map because it’s not Hogwarts. A pocket dimension, Dumbledore said.”

James’ jaw fell slack. “You know about the map?” he whispered.

“You can join me there between classes next week if you want, but I can’t promise you that it’ll be any different to passing the time on your own.” You said, completely ignoring him. You stopped in front of the library. “A word about the wardrobe and I swear-“

“-on Merlin’s balls that you’ll hex me, yeah,” he waved you off with a triumphant smile.

“Witty, are you now.” You looked at him. A small smirk lingering on the corner of your lips. James heart skipped.

“Just one of the effects you have on me, darling,” he winked at you. “L/N,” he quickly corrected when your face fell into a scowl again.

“I’m not kidding though, this is my spot to get away from everything. I don’t feel like sharing it with people.” James felt flattered. So you would share it with him?

“I solemnly swear I won’t tell,” he assured you, a serious expression on his face. “You can trust me, L/N.” He cringed at his own words. Trust him? He was only talking to you to prove Sirius wrong.

“I’ll hold you to it, Potter,” you nodded and entered the library. The door closed and James slouched against the wall next to him. A giddy feeling fluttered in his stomach at the thought of hanging out with you.

“So what happened to rather bathing in boiling water than going anywhere with me,” James couldn’t help but arrogantly ask while trying to keep up with your ridiculously fast walking pace as you two were on your way to the wardrobe. “I’m not going anywhere with you, you’re going somewhere with me,” you denied, your eyes narrowed at him. James put his hands up in mock surrender. “Lead the way, L/N.”

“I am,” you deadpanned.

James sceptically looked at the oak wardrobe. He and his friends had rummaged through this room already. It included the wardrobe, but it had looked pretty normal.

“Doesn’t look very special,” he said while you were busy locking the door behind you. You made your way over to James and pushed him out of the way roughly. He gaped at you with an offended look on his face. “You know, being a bit more chivalrous wouldn’t hurt you,” he exclaimed.

You shrugged and opened the door. James stared in amazement as he realised that the inside was in fact bigger. He walked to the wall that the wardrobe was standing against and squeezed his hand between the wall and the wardrobe.

“Why are you so surprised?” you asked. “We literally learned about the Extension charm yesterday?”

“We did?”

Maybe hanging out with James Potter wasn’t as terrible as you had expected it to be and so, it became a routine. James had finally realised that his persistence to flirt with you or try to impress you wasn’t getting him anywhere and had opted to actually be considerate of you.

He respected you when you not so kindly told him to fuck off and was sitting next to you quietly while you studied between hours in the wardrobe. He had read the book that he’d seen you read in the courtyard- and was surprised to find himself interested in the story- so that he could talk to you about something when your demeanour told him that he could speak again. He stuck to calling you by your last name and learned to read your mood when he could joke around.

Most importantly, he’d learned to enjoy himself in a comfortable silence that didn’t require him to do or say anything and just let him be.

You two were laying on the couch again, feet propped up, both on opposite sides, but feet touching in the middle. James was admiring you. The way your eyebrows crunched up in a frown, eyes squinted, and lips mouthing the words you were reading.

“You’re careless with spelling, Potter.” You eventually looked up from correcting his assignment. “But that’s a brilliant essay.”

James beamed up at you, relief, pride and happiness all washing over him at once.

“Also, you have a nice handwriting,” you added after considering whether or not you should mention it.

James was now fully grinning, pushing himself to sit up from his relaxed position. “Two compliments?” he asked teasingly and you immediately huffed and looked away. “Don’t let it get to your head, Potter. It’s big as it is.”

“But you think I’m brilliant and that my handwriting is nice.” He repeated happily.

“Your essay was brilliant,” you attempted to correct him, but he seemed to be lost in happy thoughts. You looked at him. He had his arms up behand his neck because he had laid down again. He was grinning from ear to ear and his eyes squinted in delight and satisfaction. He looked so... harmless.

“You know,” you began and James looked up at you, propping himself up a little in curiosity at the fact that you were starting the conversation for the first time.

“I used to think you were the biggest asshole ever. Astoundingly stupid and good for nothing but hurting people.” You were looking up at the ceiling now and missed the way James eyes flashed with mixed feelings.

“I had a few friends, you know. They were great, but everyone called them boring and a stick in the mud.” You turned your head towards James. “You and the rest of the marauders used to tell us to “lighten up already,” and pranked us separately, one by one until all five moved schools.”

James looked down, feeling horrible and guilty. It was true that in his early years at Hogwarts, he and his friends had been going too far with pranks. That kind of stopped after that prank.

“So I’ve held a grudge against you, like any good friend would do,” you smiled to yourself at the thought of your friends. “I think maybe I no longer have to.” James heart melted at your confession. Over the course of weeks, he’d become desperate for your approval and friendship.

“You’ve changed since then,” you concluded out loud. “Not cruel anymore.” You hesitated for a moment.

“James?” You then asked and James looked up at you with wide eyes. He knew that this was the first time that you’d addressed him by his name instead of ‘Potter’.

“Yeah?”

“I really value our friendship,” you whispered. “It’s worth a lot to me.”

James heart both warmed and tightened. “It’s worth a lot to me too,” he whispered back.

“Where were you,” Remus asked when he returned to the Gryffindor common room. “We looked on the map, but we couldn’t find you.”

“And we couldn’t find Y/N either.” James fought the urge to correct them and say that they shouldn’t use your first name like that. That he had worked for your friendship to stop calling you by your last name.

“Do I owe you a galleon now?” Sirius popped up from behind him. “What? No,” James said, thinking of another subject to talk about, wanting to ignore the existence of the bet in the first place.

“I was hanging out with Y/N,” he admitted. “But because we're friends now.”

“Yeah, but where were you hanging out?” Peter asked. “Because we weren’t allowed to leave Hogwarts today.”

“Did you find another secret passage?” Sirius gasped and James immediately shook his head to deny it. “Oh come on, we’re your friends, you have to tell us!”

Remus watched James shift uncomfortably and tried to intervene. “Let him be, Padfoot.” Sirius wasn’t having it though, and when James said that he promised not to tell, he responded with, “What, you value your fake friendship with that stick-up-her-ass girl more than us?”

“It’s not a fake friendship,” he weakly fought back. “Don’t call her that.”

Sirius sighed. “I’m sorry Prongs. I didn’t mean to call her that, hell I don’t even know the girl, she’s probably alright. But you’re keeping secrets, it’s not fair.”

You stared in disbelief at the marauder who wasn’t James, having a hook-up in your wardrobe. When he noticed you in the entrance, Sirius merely held his hand up at you in a greeting. “Thanks for letting me borrow this, this is the best spot for not getting caught.”

You backed away and slammed the door shut. James.

“Potter!” you yelled at him when you saw him leave the Gryffindor chambers. Your face was contorted in anger and you were seething.

He looked up at you, happy feeling in his chest and he was itching to show you the paper behind his back.

You stabbed your finger in his chest, effectively wiping the happy grin on his face off. “You promised,” you hissed. James immediately knew what you were talking about. “I’m sorry, I had to tell him,” he tried to justify his actions and you scoffed. “Fuck you,” you spat and walked off.

James stood there, frozen and stared at the empty spot in front of him. His arms hung by his side and he looked down at his essay which wore a big ‘O’ mark and right next to it in Professor McGonagall’s handwriting, ‘Keep this brilliant work up, Mr. Potter.’

James was watching you, sulking. He had made such progress and now it felt as if all those baby steps were for nothing, instead taking eight long strides back. You had closed yourself off again and James was too intimidated by your glares every time he walked in your direction, so he would change directions last minute every time you burned a hole through his head with your eyes.

‘This is so stupid’ he thought to himself when his body automatically steered him away from you again. He mustered up all of his courage and headed straight for you. He would rather face your wrath head on than go back to being strangers. Especially when tomorrow was free period again.

“Is it okay if I talk to you for a moment?” he asked, nervous.

You scanned him up and down. Everything about him looked remorseful, from his posture to dull eyes to his tone when he asked you if he could have a word. You waved at him to take a seat next to you, and he gratefully took the opportunity.

“I’m sorry. I swore I wouldn’t tell and I did and I shouldn’t have. I would go back in time and stop past me from telling Sirius, but I can’t, but I also don’t want to lose you because I meant what I said. This friendship is worth so much to me.” James took a deep breath. “So please let me make amends?” he finished.

“Okay.”

James blinked. “Okay?” he dumbly repeated.

“That’s what I said.”

“Wait, so that’s it? No grovelling? No conditions?”

“Would you like me to add conditions?”

“I mean..” James stuttered. “Sure?”

“Fine. Consider this your second chance , even though it technically is your third after your horrid behaviour towards my friends. It’s also your last.” You said that last part sharply. “Do you accept those terms?”

James nodded in relief and agreed. It was only when he laid in bed at night that he realised that he should’ve probably gotten clean on the matter of the bet right when he had the chance. He was on his last chance after all. But it would be alright. He would simply call off the bet and then it would be as if nothing ever happened. No one had to know, no one had to get hurt.

He waited after Transfiguration and grinned at you when you made your way to him. He had really looked forward to spending time with you again at your spot. Even if the marauders knew its location now, too.

“Lead the way, Y/N.”

“I am,” you retorted with a hint of amusement in your voice. James grinned and followed you, only noticing after a while that you were walking around on the third floor instead of the seventh. “Did you find a new spot?” he curiously asked.

“Yes. And no.” James huffed at your vagueness, imploring you to explain. “Let’s just say that Dumbledore got himself off my blacklist.” You turned the corner and moved a portrait to the side. James knew of the passageway. It was moist in there and cold so it hadn’t interested him and his friends very much. But behind the door you just opened, stood your wardrobe.

He looked at it, amazed. “You got Dumbledore to move a wardrobe for you?” he asked incredulously. You slyly smiled but didn’t say anything except for “I did the cleaning myself.”

“So what’s going on with you and James,” Lily curiously asked you. You shrugged and brought your water bottle to your lips. “Kept bothering me into a friendship, I guess.”

Lily laughed. “Well, whatever keeps him away from me,” she joked and you let out an audible laugh. She leaned in towards you. “But if he’s no longer fighting for my attention, but yours, I think it might mean that he fancies you.”

You choked on your water. “Most certainly not!” You strictly assured her and composed yourself. Lily laughed. “No need to get so defensive over his feelings. You make it seem as if I suggested that you fancied him,” she said, chuckling. You turned your head away and she gasped. “Do you fancy him?”

“What’s with all this gossiping and boys talk,” you grumbled, unpleased. “But for the record, I don’t think so.” You stuck your nose up.

“You don’t think so?” Lily repeated. “What do you mean?”

“I gravely appreciate him and I feel very comforted in his presence. We’re friends. It doesn’t mean I fancy him.” You answered. “Besides, I’ve never fancied anyone. Not sure I know what it’s like.”

“Okay, how would you feel if he starts dating someone, right now?”

You pondered over the question for a bit. “I guess he can do whatever he wants, but don’t expect me to share our spot with some random girl,” you said, the last part coming out more bitter than you expected. Huh. ‘Did you fancy James Potter?’ you wondered.

“I fancy her,” James told his friends while they were out in Hogsmeade.

“L/N?” Peter asked. James nodded in affirmation. “Well damn Prongs,” Sirius started. “What happened?”

“Y/N and I are good, I think. We fit and it feels amazing. It seems surprising, but we can talk for hours or sit in silence together without it being weird at all. Everything is comfortable with her, in like the good way,” James struggled to express all his feelings about you.

Sirius whistled. “Almost envious of you, Prongs. What about Evans though?”

James shrugged. “Not the kind of dynamic I want.”

“So are you going to tell her?” Remus asked. James puffed his chest. “Of course. I’m not shy about my feelings. I publicly chased after Lily for years,” he reasoned. But despite his big words, he felt like a nervous wreck. Because what if you rejected him?

James found you in the library. “Is now a good time?” he asked. You sat up straight. Last night, you had done a lot of thinking and came to the conclusion that yes, you fancied James Potter. “Yes, actually. I wanted to talk to you,” you replied. You got up and and started to gather your belongings. James grabbed your books for you and you left the library.

“I fancy you.”

James blinked. Were his ears deceiving him? Were you joking? Did you have a bet of your own going on with someone?

“I’m sorry?” he managed to get out, his voice an octave higher than usual.

“I fancy you,” you stated again. Matter of factly. “I came to the realisation yesterday and they do say honesty is the best policy.” James laughed softly at your sad attempt to lessen the awkward atmosphere.

“I actually wanted to talk to you to say the same thing,” he breathed out in a relieved manner. You stared at him in surprise. Okay. Definitely not what you expected.

“So you fancy me.” You repeated to make sure.

“And you fancy me.” James nodded.

“Do you want to go out with me?” you asked.

James’ heart leaped. He had spent so much time asking that question, he realised that how amazing it felt to hear the question directed at him. He grinned. “Glad you asked, darling. Yes, I’ll go out with you.” He reached out to you carefully wrapped an arm around you. You fully leaned into him in a hug and breathed him in.

“Think our relationship just went up in value.” You mumbled, your words slightly muffled by your face, hidden in his sweater.

You felt him laugh. “Well, we upgraded from friends to couple. How much are we worth now?”

You pretended to think about it. “We’re worth all the money in Gringotts bank.”

“That’s a lot of money,” he hummed.

You had taken James out on a date in the middle of the Gryffindor Quidditch stands at night, after curfew. James was the first to lean in and kiss you and when he did, he practically melted into you, your arms slung over his broad shoulders. He’d muttered something about how lucky he was and you’d told him that he better know it, before admitting that you felt the same way.

After you had left him several hickeys, scattered across his neck, he had insisted on returning the favour. He was only on his second when you two were interrupted by Filch, who had spotted you two. You two ran off to the third floor and decided to hide out in your wardrobe until he was gone all while continuing making out. You and James fell asleep in that position. You on your back on the couch, James draped over you like a weighted blanket with his face nuzzled in your throat, and your legs entangled.

Though very surprised at first, your fellow Hogwarts students quickly got used to the idea of you and James in a relationship. It wasn’t long before you were walking down the corridors together, James hand on your lower back and inching lower. You shot him a warning glare and he bit his check when he splayed his hand over your ass with a cheeky smile. You elbowed him in the ribs, earning a huff and let your hand rest on his ass in turn.

Everything was perfect, which is of course why everything had to become a disaster very quickly. James wasn’t even sure how such a perfect night had turned so horrible. One moment, you were partying, everything had been great, and he had been envisioning you and him for the rest of your lives, and the next, he was pleading with you through a locked door.

“Y/N, we can call you Y/N right?” Sirius had drunkenly slurred. You had rolled your eyes at his antics, but nodded. Though you would never admit it out loud, you appreciated the elder Black.

“I like you. We all like you and we’re happy that it’s you and not Evans anymore,” he mumbled on and he stumbled over his own feet, barely reacting in time to not drop to the floor.

You internally smiled at his words.

“I’m sorry that I was an asshole to you. You’re really great. If I had known, I wouldn’t have targeted your friend group for pranks or risked your feelings by making you part of a stupid bet.”

It was as if the world stopped spinning for a moment, music only barely in the background. “A bet?” you spoke in a dangerously low voice.

Sirius seemed to catch on to your change in demeanour and sobered up at an incredible rate. “Shit, no-“

But you had already turned around to find James, Sirius stumbling behind you to try and stop you.

“How much?” you spat out angrily when you found him. The music was luckily loud enough to hide your argument from other students.

James looked at you, confused. “How much?”

“How much are we worth?”

James frowned at you question. “All the money in Gringotts bank,” he calmly answered you and moved to embrace you, thinking you were just very drunk.

You pushed him away and he stumbled a few steps back.

“No,” you hoarsely responded. “That’s how much I think we’re worth. How much did you bet on me.”

James’ blood ran cold. “I-“ His words opened and closed like a fish. “Because the amount better have been fucking worth it, James,” you cut him off.

“Darling-“

You felt numb. “How little?”

“A galleon.”

You nodded and stepped back. “I was wrong,” you shakily breathed out. “You, James Potter, are still cruel.”

James chased you. “Wait, please,” he begged. You ran out of the room, towards the third floor and into the wardrobe hidden behind the door behind the portrait.

James followed you and pulled on the knob to open the wardrobe that you had locked. He sunk down against the doors and took a deep breath.

He had to explain. He had to let you know that you meant everything to him. And that everything was real. Honesty is the best policy after all, right?

“I’m sorry. Darling, I am so sorry. It’s so stupid how it happened. They were saying that I couldn’t get anyone to go out with me and then I accidentally hurt you with the soup incident, so Sirius bet with me that I couldn’t get anyone you to go out with me. I was never planning on hurting you, I swear,“ James rambled.

“I wanted to apologize and make up for your hand anyway. Not that it was out of pity or anything,” he immediately added.

“I did think you were beautiful. I did want to talk to you. And when you rejected me at first, yes, I did want to prove Sirius wrong. But then you were everything. I wanted so desperately to be friends with you because you were right. The bet was stupid, but it was never about money. It was never even about you per se, but I’m so fucking happy that it ended up being you, because I’m in love with you. Please believe me.”

You sucked in a breath at his words. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

James jumped at your voice from the other side of the door. “I wanted to, I really did. But I had already screwed up once and you weren’t going to give me anymore chances, so I thought that if I just never told you and called of the bet, pretending it never happened, I could keep you.” He leaned back against the door, eyes tightly shut. “And if we break up, then I don’t regret it, because the past months with you were perfect,” he whispered.

The door abruptly opened from inside out and he stumbled back, having leaned against it. He looked up at you, hovering above him. He knew you. He knew how to read you and right now, you needed space. “I’ll wait for you,” he said, hesitantly and left you alone.

You needed your friends right now.

When James didn’t see you the next day, he accepted that you didn’t want to see him. But by now, almost an entire week had passed and James and his friends were itching to apologize to you at least once more. He decided to ask Lily where you were and was absolutely not prepared for her answer.

“She went to Beauxbatons.” Lily pursed her lips at the boy in front of her in disdain. She knew what had happened but couldn’t help but pity him a little bit when he looked at her like that. Devastated.

James’ world stopped and for a moment he thought he couldn’t breathe. Did you leave? Had he managed to push you away to a whole different school? He thanked Lily for her answer and sat down at his own desk in a daze. His body moved on autopilot for the next few days. He was falling into a routine that he didn’t like.

During free periods, he hid out in the wardrobe, face up towards the ceiling as he imagined you were lying in his arms right then.

You had been gone for a week and a half and had returned to Hogwarts. Feeling lighter in your heart and decisive steps carrying you towards the Gryffindor Quidditch stands, right on time for the match.

You saw James and your heart jumped. He looked good. He had definitely looked better before, but all in all, he looked good. You bit your lip, suddenly insecure and doubting his promise to wait for you. Another twenty points for Gryffindor and admired James from the distance.

When you had arrived at Beauxbatons, you had wallowed in self pity for a day or two before your friends had pulled you out of it and reasoned with you. Surprisingly on James’ behalf.

You knew they were right. You were madly in love with James and he was undoubtedly madly in love with you too. Though it had all started off as a bet, how could you stay upset when it only brought you and James together.

James eyes scanned through the crowd, automatically trailing to the spot where you two had been sitting and kissed during your first date. He had to do a double take when he saw you in the crowds and almost fell off his broomstick when he rubbed his eyes with both hands to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.

He started making his way towards you when his eyes locked onto the golden snitch. His eyes flickered between you and the snitch, but you had seen it too, so you flashed him a grin. His shoulders relaxed, and he started the chase.

“Darling?” James appeared in the doorway to the boy’s changing rooms.

“James,” you nodded. You were smiling at him, and your warm, inviting tone had him move forward until you were within reach.

“I’ve missed you so much, I thought I lost you.”

“Hm, you’re just lucky that I really really love you too.” You sassed back. James was in front of you in two big steps. “Yeah?” he asked a twinkle in his eye. “Just like that? No grovelling? No conditions?”

You kissed him. “Would you like me to include grovelling?” you laughed at him.

“Yeah actually. You see, I’ve already prepared at least eight different ways to make up to you.”

He pressed his lips to yours again.

“Get a room!” Sirius yelled and you shot him a sour look. He held up his hands in surrender, a shit eating grin still present on his face.

“Fine, but don’t expect your captain back for the celebratory party. He’s mine tonight,” you shot back.

“And every other night, I hope?” James coyly smiled at you. You shook your head in amusement and dragged him away, hand slipping to rest on his ass, his own hand finding its way to yours.

“Lead the way, Darling.”

@elsie-bells @charlie-weasley-is-underrated @dreamingofmarauders @moonyslibrary98 @wildernessflora @hollandweather @queerqueenlynn @locklyebrainrot @thisrandombitch @moonys0chocolate @grac3aph3lion @someonesuggestmeaname @mel-yldrm @yrseline @apiec @earfquak3 @yourvvenicebitch @venomsvl @leyla-ravenclaw @spacedangel @darrarii @shrekscrustybudassy @unsleptwriter @middle-of-the-earth @sirene-noir @bettytaylorversion @littlepoisonmushroom @faumpje @iloveutwice @katelebate @moonysupremacy01 @marina468 @fangirl-kimora @bellesowl @badasswlthafatass @sjprongs

@targaryenmoony @its-a-ittle-bit-cold @quackitysdrugdealer @gaysludge @acciotwinz @in2meijasworld @shadowbriar @kategables @prongsprincessworld @devilsnightz @lavandersblues @inesven

#james potter x fem!reader #james potter x reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #marauders era #james potter fluff #james potter angst #james potter fic #james potter imagine #marauders #marauders fanfic

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imaginethathaikyuu · 8 months

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Em, you probably don't know this, but I actually have a huge weakness for streamer!Kenma. This might be kinda basic but what if streamer!Kenma and streamer!reader are both super popular, and everyone is always begging them to stream together, but what everyone DOESN'T know is that they're secretly dating and are afraid that if they stream together everyone will figure it out :') but it's just a thought so yeah no pressure. I hope you do get some inspo for streamer!Kenma though 💗 ily!

kris i love u and i wrote this just for u <333 it feels like me and u are playing ping pong with the writing brain cell recently. i love it we're so back

streamer!kenma x streamer!reader

featuring: secret relationship, kenma teaches u how to play chess on stream, loving banter, little bits of chess talk. i tried not to put too much streamer talk in this so it was actually readable and not cringe. gender neutral reader word count: 1882

Kenma was just about to end his stream when he noticed your name being typed in the chat. Someone linked a clip of you from your stream - which was currently live - so he clicked it.

A text to speech message read out loud, “Are you going to be in Noya’s next event?” and as you were focusing on your gameplay, you took a second to reply.

“Am I… No, I don’t think so.”

Kenma laughed while you struggled your way through playing MineCraft.

“I was invited but - chat, I don’t want to start any drama but I kind of don’t want to play in it if Kenma’s playing, and someone told me he was invited.”

Kenma barked a laugh, a loud noise that was rarely heard from him, as you shrugged and struggled to hide your smile.

“There, I said it! If it starts drama, so be it!” You put your hands up in defense, laughing at yourself.

The clip ended, so he immediately opened your stream, and you were still talking about him.

He couldn’t hide his smile if he tried - he only hoped none of his viewers noticed the fondness in his eyes.

The two of you had been dating for at least a year, and it was the best kept secret of his career.

There was a joke online about the two of you not liking each other. It all started when you were openly avoiding him in a game lobby with other streamers - from there, it grew into a bit that you committed to full throttle.

Everyone knew you and Kenma were friends in real life. You shared a friend group, and often streamed with the same people. Online, however, you made a spectacle of not liking him.

Kenma found it hilarious, and so did your chat.

“Do you guys know he cheats in like, every game he plays?”

“That’s not true!” He was laughing and rolling his eyes at the same time. “Oh my god.”

He typed his words in your chat, and he watched the messages flood with his name.

Your eyes widened a little when you read, “Is he in chat? Kenma, go away. This stream isn’t for you.”

He typed a simple, “no,” and you scoffed at it.

“Every time I mention your name you show up - I know you love the drama.”

A few seconds later a text to speech message read, “he’s such a theater kid,” and at the sound of your laughter, he closed your stream.

“I’m not a theater kid.” He sank a little in his chair, watching his chat being filled with emotes. “I literally played sports in high school!”

It was only a few days later when he was sent another clip from your stream, this time from a text to speech donation.

“Kenma, I think you need to see this.”

He clicked the link and saw you were once again playing MineCraft.

It was a long clip - in the game, you jumped off your boat into the ocean and started swimming to the bottom. Everyone in your chat was telling you not to, but you didn’t listen.

“I’m not going to die. Why would I die? This is the best run I’ve had. I’m not going to die.”

That’s when he realized you were playing the hardcore version of the game, meaning if you died, the game was over.

He watched as you swam down into a huge ravine, and he had a feeling he knew what would happen as your character’s air bubbles were slowly popping.

“Do you want to make a bet? If I die here I will do anything you want. Anything. Because I’m not going to die!”

As you said that, your character started taking damage. And you tried swimming back up to the surface of the water, but you weren’t fast enough. You almost made it, and then - game over!

Your head was in your hands as the chat on screen spammed, “stream with Kenma!”

Three days later, you were forced to take your punishment.

Your viewers had been asking you to stream with Kenma for a long time, and you always avoided it with a joke - never revealing the real reason you didn’t want to go live with him.

It wasn’t the end of the world if your relationship became public, but you knew things would be much easier in private. It wasn’t something you were trying to hide, but you weren’t posting it proudly, either.

You decided on streaming Kenma teaching you how to play chess. He’d been playing a lot online, and you hoped it wouldn’t take longer than an hour. You were too nervous to go any longer than that.

Kenma was late to answering your call. When he finally answered, you immediately started berating him.

“Have you ever been on time?”

“I was just seeing how long you’d wait for me,” he said.

“If you never showed up, I would have gotten out of doing this.”

He pulled up your stream just so he could look at you - even though he’d seen you just a few minutes ago. You were just down the hall, but nobody watching knew that.

“Have you been watching my stream this whole time?”

He grinned, “No, I’ve never watched your stream.”

“Then why are you always in my chat?”

You sat with your legs crossed, playing with the necklace you always wore - the one he bought for you just a few months ago. He loved seeing you wear it.

“Because you’re always talking about me, like you’re obsessed with me or something.”

“Can we get to the game? You’ve kept me waiting long enough.”

Kenma wasn’t a good teacher - far from it - but he tried his best. After teaching you the names of all the pieces and how they moved, you were ready to play a game that he’d guide you through. You played white, he played black.

“Can you just teach me the best opening in the game? I don’t need to know anything complicated.”

“...Okay.”

He took a second to decide. Once he made up his mind, he started giving his instructions.

“The first move is pawn to f3.”

“What does that mean?”

“Do you see the pawns?”

You laughed, because the way he said it sounded like he was talking to a kid. “Yes, I see the pawns!”

“Move the one on the F file up one square.” After a second you made your move, and it was his turn: pawn to e6. “Now pawn to g4.”

“What’s this opening called?”

He didn’t reply, instead, he was distracted by his chat. By now, everyone had already figured out what he was doing, and the messages they were sending made him laugh.

“Kenma?”

“It’s called the Fool’s Mate,” he said.

“Why?”

He had to push his microphone away from his face so you wouldn’t hear him laugh, but he pulled it back to say, “I think this is why.”

He made his next move: queen to h4. And a window popped up on his screen, You Won!

“What the fuck!”

“Good game.”

“Kenma, what the fuck!”

“You made it too easy.”

“Kenma.” You were whining his name, sinking into your chair. “This is why I don’t like you.”

“Everyone knew I would beat you, I just sped things up.”

“That’s not true!”

“You’re always such a sore loser,” he mumbled.

“You’re always a cheater.”

Twenty minutes later, you were in the middle of a real game - if Kenma telling you which moves to make could be considered real. And both of you had successful streams so far, your viewers none the wiser to the truth of your relationship.

It was easy, he realized, and fun. He hated how funny you were, because you could make him laugh more than anyone, and he was sure he seemed completely lovesick.

“I think you should move the bishop,” Kenma suggested when you took more than two minutes to offer your next move.

“Uh…”

“The bishop.”

“I don’t remember which one that is!”

Kenma waited for you to figure it out, and then you moved your queen.

And he was truly disappointed, because that was the one move you shouldn’t have made. He couldn’t even laugh.

“You just sacrificed your queen.”

“I don’t even know what that means!”

“Babe - that was a total blunder!” His queen captured yours, and he realized this may have been a complete waste of time. “You lost your most important piece!”

“I thought that was the bishop, Ken!”

He sighed, acting as dramatic as possible. “You haven’t learned a thing. It’s basically game over, now,” and he scanned the chess board on his screen, looking for the quickest way to end the game.

He looked over at his chat to see it was being spammed with question marks, and then his phone vibrated with a message from you.

It read, “you just let the cat out of the bag.”

“Oh,” he said. He laughed, because he only just realized what he said - the nickname had slipped before he could catch himself - and something awkward started to settle. But he shrugged it off. “Oops.”

He started texting you back until you said, “are you disappointed in me, babe?”

“Oh my god.” He sat his phone down, ignoring your message completely. “Stop flirting with me.”

“You said it first!”

“It was an accident!”

You texted him again. “Should we just tell them?”

He typed back, “I think so.”

“Okay, wait,” you said. “Everyone go look at Kenma’s stream. He’s going to do something really cool while I go to the bathroom.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He opened your stream in another tab and watched you get up from your seat.

Everyone in your chat and his was confused - as was he.

Then, his door opened, and you walked in.

“What are you doing?” he laughed.

“I wanted to come say hi.” You walked over to him, grabbing the back of his chair and turning it back and forth just to bother him. “Wait, are you streaming?”

He scoffed, but it was all affectionate. “You’re so dumb.”

You looked down at his screen and waved, “hi chat!” and then noticed he had your stream on his second monitor. “You’re watching my stream!”

“Yeah, I’m a fan,” he joked.

He knew the chat would be filled with questions and reactions, but he didn’t care at all. He found this entire thing hilarious, and judging by the smirk on your face, you did too.

When you finally got back to your room, you sat down as if nothing had even happened.

“Okay, can you teach me what a Queen’s Gambit is?”

“No, because you can’t even tell me which piece is the queen.”

Later that night when you had both ended your livestreams, both of you made your own posts on twitter acknowledging the announcement you’d made. Kenma posted a photo of you with his cat in your lap - the one that had been his phone wallpaper since he’d taken it. You posted the first selfie you’d taken together - both without captions, because there was no explanation required.

And if you kept acting like you hated Kenma during your stream, he’d be the only one allowed to call your bluff.

send a request for a drabble and i might write it :)

#(posting at 7 am cuz im just excited to post.)#i love u kris <3 thank u for the writing inspiration #this was actually so fun to write #and i wouldnt have written it if u hadnt asked me to lmao #i love it!#ive missed writing like this ;-;#everything i write is so COMPLICATED but its so fun to just write something SIMPLE!!!!!!#kenma kuzome #kenma kozume x reader #kenma kozume x you #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #fluff #haikyuu oneshot

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anistarrose · 2 months

Text

The thing about the Heart Attack segment in Wonderland is that they put so much aromantic subtext in it. They accidentally put SO much aromantic subtext in it, on behalf of multiple characters, and I'm thinking about it constantly. Let me tell you all about it.

Magnus is dropped into a dating game and literally leads with "I cannot stress enough how uninterested I am in this." Now, it's perfectly valid to read this as due to him waiting for Julia, or just him being plain old uncomfortable with having his love life put in the spotlight. However! I cannot stress enough the exchange that happens just a minute or two after that line:

Magnus (describing his ideal date): ... and we don't see each other again, ‘cause I'm really not interested in dating. Audience: [exaggerated] Oooooh! (cheers) Griffin: The silhouette is like, fanning itself. Lydia: Playing hard to get, huh? It seems like our contestant is into that.

And I just have to say: unfortunately, this is one of the most aromantic fucking experiences I've seen represented in fiction in my life. I mean — saying you're not interested in romance, then having those words twisted on you, like they're some secret coded way of saying that you are interested in romance? Not having a single way to express your disinterest that'll actually be believed? That's some aro shit right there. God. Fuck.

As an aside, it's enough to really tell that Heart Attack is not designed to be a reprieve from the pain, even though it's the "good outcome" of Trust or Forsake. It's designed to be uncomfortable. To funnel suffering to Edward and Lydia, just like all the other games do. (More on that later, in fact.) But in summary:

Magnus is a character who can be read as uncomfortable with romance for either aro-spec reasons or unrelated reasons. But in either case, his discomfort attracts reactions that reek of amatonormativity — and therefore, resonate with aromantic experiences. (Psst, I did recently write a gray-aro Magnus fic!)

Two more analyses below the cut (and only one of them is for another Horny Boy):

Obviously the next character I need to talk about is Merle. I've found aroallo readings of his character to be compelling for a long time (having sex with plants so you don't have to worry about romantic commitment, am I right?), but the way he describes his "ideal date" is another factor:

Merle: I volunteer to drive her vehicle, and tell her it's filthy, and so we go through the uh- drive through vehicle wash and she pays for that too. Um, and then I take her to have dinner with my family, and- Magnus: Wait, like your wife and stuff? Merle: She meets my ex-wife.

Merle's probably exaggerating as a joke, continuing on about both him and his partner being miserable, but I think the fact that Merle's mind goes here is genuinely drawing from a lot of poor romantic experiences in the past. He didn't get a choice about being on Heart Attack, and his marriage with Hecuba was similarly "arranged".

It's also worth noting that at this point in time, Merle is putting in the work to be part of Mavis and Mookie's lives again, but is not interested in doing the same for Hecuba — he instead just asks Mavis how Hecuba's doing. That said, given that Magnus is the one to put the focus on Merle's ex-wife, I think it's fair to read the "family" comment as Merle actually expressing that he'd rather spend time with his kids than give any special romantic attention to his date. Moving on to the rest of the "joke":

Merle: She's having a miserable time and she's really mad, she can't wait to get outta there. I take her back to her house, and so I lean up against the door jam and say, 'Sure you don't want me to come in for a few minutes?' and she slams the door in my face.

It's possible Merle just has a more roundabout, self-deprecating way of expressing a similar thing to what Magnus did: Merle just isn't interested in dating. To me, the last line implies he might not say no to sex, if offered — but overall, it reads as if Merle is putting minimal effort in because he's looking for an excuse to get out of this relationship anyway.

It's also possible that Merle's "rejection" of a suitor being so disguised as humor could point to him still coming to terms with his disinterest in dating. Particularly, in comparison to Magnus, who is so vocal and unashamed about it, while Merle might still be figuring this all out.

(Honestly, the self-deprecation Merle turns to here is actually kind of sad, when viewed in that light — he already lets himself be the butt of jokes so often, and now he feels like the way romance doesn't click for him has to be a joke, too? Oof. Someone give him a hug and tell him he's not broken this instant!) But regardless:

Merle views dates, and perhaps romance in general, as things that will inevitably turn disastrous for him and any party involved with him, and he would rather spend time with his children than repairing a relationship with an ex, or cultivating a relationship with a new partner. This is not an experience exclusive to the aro-spec umbrella, but you can't say that an aromantic reading of his character doesn't fit him like a gardening glove...

...which he wears while fucking his plants. Because plants don't demand emotional intimacy, nor take too much time away from the platonic relationships that matter more to him. And you know what? He's fucking valid for that! Fly your flag, nasty grandpa!

But moving on: I promised you aromantic analysis of characters outside of our protagonists, and henceforth, that analysis I will provide. And not just because I admittedly see Taako as the token alloromantic (though clearly an aro ally; if he hadn't chosen Forsake we wouldn't have gotten all this incredible characterization!)

I digress. So let's go on to addressing the lich twins in the room: Edward and Lydia.

Remember my argument earlier that Heart Attack serves the purpose of collecting suffering just like the rest of Wonderland does? How it's just a subtler way of making Wonderland's victims fundamentally uncomfortable?

...Using, of all things, romance?

How the vogue twins, for whatever reason, felt inspired to make people uncomfortable with matchmaking and adoration? How, some way or another, they noticed how much potential romance had to induce suffering? Being pressured into a relationship, being told that no matter how firmly you say you're uninterested, you're not really uninterested?

...Relatedly, I have always gotten the sense that Edward and Lydia projected relentlessly onto their victims.

Edward: This resolve, this desire to do whatever it takes no matter the cost to save yourselves — do you know who you three remind me of? Magnus: No? Merle: Who? Edward: Us!

I'm even going to go a step further and say that on top of projection, they want their victims to go through things they went through. Swallowing the guilt of having fucked someone else over to survive, of course — that's basically self-admitted. But possibly also... the feeling of not being able to get back what you lost (Keats). The feeling of being able to heal (Keats).

So, where does that leave Heart Attack?

Lydia: It was the three of us, surviving against all odds. The world against us.

Their family of three was (is) indescribably important to them. I'm not necessarily saying that societal expectations of romance, especially of romance as a priority above that of family, left a bad taste in their mouths — if not downright contributing to their trauma — but, okay, I wrote the rest of this post and now that I'm back, I can no longer deny it. I'm definitely, absolutely saying that.

At the time of the podcast, we know Edward and Lydia's own relationship is heavily strained. Until the end, they are lying to themselves and to each other about the fact that they continue to be emotionally and magically reliant on each other. After all, Lydia wouldn't say "I guess we really needed each other after all" in her dying moments with such surprise otherwise.

This is the second reason that I... well, I wouldn't quite call it a "theory," but I find it most impactful to read Edward and Lydia as characters for whom the concept of Love has baggage. And always has, from their origins as youth in a tough spot in an already amatonormative world.

Maybe the constant societal devaluing of platonic, familial bonds left them with serious emotional scars. Maybe the constant conflation of Love and morality just weighed on them and weighed on them and weighed on them until they decided: well, we don't love the way people expect us to, so we might as well give up on being the good people they expect us to be. We might as well embrace this new fuel of suffering.

...And you know, I hope this gets across what I mean when I always say I headcanon villains as aromantic to make them more sympathetic.

Edward and Lydia, textually, are already tragic villains. As twins and liches, they're also textually foil characters to several of the Seven Birds. But I also like to think that they have a lot in common with Magnus and Merle, and the possibility that tugs at my heartstrings the most is the possibility of them all falling under the aromantic umbrella.

#taz #taz balance #taz balance spoilers #magnus burnsides #merle highchurch #vogue elves #wonderland twins #(i always forget which tag i use for them lol)#aspec taz #taz meta #happy aro week this essay is my gift to myself <2

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beautifulhigh · 7 months

Note

It just occurred to me that the polo scene doesn't get much love as it should. I know it's very short but just the thirst in Alex’s eyes, the way you can see his mouth dry while watching Henry ride that horse and his oh so sexy smile. I feel like that scene required a major dissection, and no one does it better so I came calling.

You know what? I'm doing this one now. I know I said I would do a meta on Henry Fox and I would do a meta on the New Year's Eve party but this is in my inbox now and yeah, let's talk about the polo scene.

(I'm also doing this now so I don't have another thing on my To Do pile, and your kind words made my shitty day a little better so thank you.)

Short scene, not a short meta.

In the book when he and Henry are in his bedroom, Alex has this little moment of clouds parting, sun beaming, angels chorus revelation:

In an instant of sudden, vivid clarity, he can’t believe he ever thought he was straight.

And while movie!Alex doesn't have the same bi awakening that book!Alex does. this is very much his moment of "oh I am very not straight at all" and that is valid of him.

(As this is a Jen meta, we shall also be talking about everything else because you do not analyse a text in isolation.)

This interview talks about the editing of the polo match:

Nick [Moore], my new editor coming in, took a look and he says, “I wanna try something with that polo match.” He spent a weekend of his own time doing something, and then he was ready to show me. He sat me down and said, “I’ve done something crazy.”

And we went from filmed scripted scenes and a lead in, to "bagpipes intensify" and it works SO well for where these boys are in this new stage of their relationship.

Our establishing shots are of the teams, the horses, the uniforms. This is Henry's world and Alex is about to step into it (which is a reversal of Henry at the NYE party - I swear I will write that meta once I have all the gif posts I want to link to) and it's all quick cuts and sharp transitions and moving shots. The pace has been set for Alex to enter.

We pick him out in the crowd but he's lost as quickly as we spot him. He's one of many here and it's all too quick to stay with him.

Firstly, you will never convince me that he didn't pick the tightest trousers he could find. Henry's comment about him being a mouthful is foreshadowed, right there.

ANYWAY

He walks in, he's looking around, he's doing up his jacket as a form of protection. Alex is the proverbial fish out of the proverbial water (and I have a meta about water if you're interested) and we're straight back in with the quick edits. Horses, polo sticks, this is not a game most people know how to play. Alex certainly doesn't. He's doing up his jacket and he is uncomfortable.

He is not a stranger to a suit, and that is certainly not something that is ill fitting. It is circumstance, not clothing.

And then we get our first clear shot of Henry. Only it's not clear, not at first. He literally comes into focus.

Stick aloft, mouth open, like he's a walking riding metaphor.

And Alex's face changes.

Yeah. He is definitely not straight.

From then on we stay with Henry. We, in Alex's viewpoint, have found him. And so we track Henry through the game and it's just generic horse legs if we're looking at anything else. The only player we/Alex see is Henry.

Here, Henry is leading. Going in first, checking it's clear, knowing Alex will follow him. Henry leads, Alex follows. Into the garden, into the bed, into the sexual component of their relationship. Alex admits to Henry right from the start that this is new to him:

“I’ve, uh,” Alex begins. “I’ve never actually done this before.” “Alex,” Henry says, reaching down to stroke at Alex’s hair, “you don’t have to, I’m—” “No, I want to,” Alex says, tugging at Henry’s waistband. “I just need you to tell me if it’s awful.” Henry is speechless again, looking as if he can’t believe his fucking luck. “Okay. Of course.”

When it comes to being with a man? Henry leads, Alex follows.

And then the pacing and editing kicks off. We intercut to the tempo of the bagpipes between the match and the hook up and Henry is leading the charge on both.

He's in charge and Alex is LOVING it:

Turns out being on the receiving end of Henry’s royal authority is an extreme fucking turn-on.

This is risky and the most dangerous thing they have done so far. Amy walking in on them in the Red Room is one thing - book!Alex is VERY thankful for the staff NDAs when it comes to what they know about him and Henry - but neither of them care here. And Alex is very much letting Henry take the lead and set the pace.

Which, given how long Henry has wanted Alex, wanted this, and how he's not able to live and love (at this point) as openly as Alex is, giving Henry this control means that not only can Alex continue his education in this mlm era of his life, but he's giving Henry all of the freedom he can. God Bless America or something.

We intercut the make out scene with shots of things being hit, the hard slamming of one thing against another, of riders in saddles. The hands may be a metaphor for sex in the Paris scene but we have it here as well.

Alex is fully on board by this point and he's not letting Henry set the full agenda. In his White House bedroom we got the scene of Henry going down on Alex (and there is no way that it was a one-way exchange given how long they were there) so now? It's his turn.

My favourite editing choice?

We then cut to Henry's arse bouncing in that saddle. If the Paris scene is making love? This is them fucking. Henry is bouncing away, riding for all he's worth, chasing down his singular aim with precision and determination.

It's innuendo at its finest.

I love this shot. We're looking up at them - we're just like Alex who is now looking up at Henry due to his new vantage point (#NoLongerTaller) - and we see Alex is fully crowding up into Henry's space. And they are right by the door. There is no cover, no escape. Anyone coming in has fully caught them. Please let there be a PPO or a Secret Service be just outside. Please. For their sanity if not mine.

But even if there isn't for some insane reason, they don't care. They are so lost in each other, so caught up in this moment, that they aren't FSOTUS and the Prince Of Wales. They aren't boys with status and expectations. They're just two consenting adults who are testing the boundaries of what public indecency actually means.

They are really going for it now. Henry's arm is tensed with the effort of keeping Alex close, his hand is splayed on Henry's back to give him contact with more of him. They are not letting go. Diving all in like it's a nod to the Olympic event where they met in the book.

And when they come up for air it's because Alex is... well... about to go diving.

Those fingers make VERY quick work of the belt and what he is doing with his hands and those fingers is further evidence in the "this is them fucking" category.

And then the frame which I'm guessing inspired Cordelia's ask to me:

LOOK AT THAT FACE. Look at those fucking eyelashes. But Alex is wanting and he is wanting hard for Henry. Pun intended. He's got a plan for this, he's got a To Do list for those Very Bad Things he promised/threatened Henry with all those weeks ago.

And it will have been weeks. The State Dinner was around February time based on the texts (end of January at the latest) and then Henry says the polo match is "next month" (which would put it end of February, early March because we would not say 'next month' if it were next week, regardless of when the month starts) and so it's been weeks since they hooked up in Alex's room. Weeks of having to just text and email and maybe venture into video calls.

None of that would compare to being together.

This is the first time that Alex has gotten his hands on Henry since his bedroom and he's desperate to get more than his hands on him.

And this shot as Alex pulls Henry's trousers down is fucking pornographic. Matthew López, did you direct Nick to act like this or was it his choice? Go watch his expression as Alex is pulling the offending clothing out of the way and tell me that this isn't pornographic.

And then we cut to the not-at-all subtle shot of Henry well, making the shot. With ease and power and the ball shooting out of frame. Something something orgasm metaphor something release.

There's even a little wisp as he makes the shot. If this post isn't flagged for mature content I'll be surprised.

Next shot?

Congrats on not getting caught, on the sex, on the most smut-filled-while-almost-fully-clothed-sex scene I've ever had the joy of frame-by-framing through.

Alex is doing up his tie again but he's not uncomfortable. And Henry is so fucking happy I could cry. Because he just hooked up with this guy, in semi-public, and got away with it. They are firmly in Henry's world here, a world where he can't be out and proud, and he got to have something he wanted. And, maybe crucially, no one knows about it. His privacy is intact.

But more importantly, this thing he's got with Alex is something. It's not a one night stand. Alex came here specifically for him, because he asked him to. Because Alex wanted to see him, be with him. This wasn't an obligation, this wasn't something set up by anyone for show and to do damage control. This was for them, and them alone.

Look at these smug bastards. Look at them. Gettin' their rocks off and making puns about being hungry and eating like they didn't just devour each other.

BUT

I gotta bring the feels here 'cause it's me.

Henry attended the State dinner because he was expected to, because that was in place before the New Year's kiss. It was an obligation and in both the movie and the book he had been ghosting Alex. And then Alex grabbed him in the Red Room and they hooked up and at the end of that scene Henry nervously asks Alex if he wants to be his guest at the polo event. Alex doesn't actually say yes - he says he doesn't know how to play polo, there's a comment about it being safer if he's on the sidelines - but leaving aside any fear that he would stand Henry up this is the first time they have made plans with the intention of seeing each other, of being together in this way.

This is, for want of a better term, kinda like a date.

Alex turned up, Henry put out, and they're very much committing to seeing where this path will take them. (Forever. It'll take them to forever.)

Alex isn't straight, Henry is very much in love, and they're embracing that giddy phase of a relationship where you just can't keep your hands off each other. And we fade from this to Paris where they're on another kind of date and then there's another kind of sex scene and it's a speedrun of their relationship on screen like they weren't indulging in foreplay with all the text flirting.

Which, by the way, don't think I didn't notice that Henry's jersey number was 4. Four-play indeed.

(Thanks for this, Cordelia, I needed something like this to soothe my brain.)

#jen answers stuff #i-cordelia #firstprince #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #prince henry of wales #red white and royal blue #rwrb movie #firstprince meta #overthinking jen is overthinking #rwrb #otp: history huh #long post

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angelwithdemonictendencies · 10 months

Text

when my hands were caked with dirt at the foot of the grave, you loved me still; ask atrocity of me and see how i tremble with willingness at the sound of your voice.

mt19 x reader: everyone loves to be taken care of.

(warnings: blasphemous filth, oral sex/fingering (m on f, another exception!), unprotected penetrative sex (m on f), kind of oral fixation (have you seen the state of that mouthguard), hair-pulling (bring back the curls), lots of praise and tension and all that nonsense, lots of talk about alcohol, also a lot of emotions! (be warned about those damn emotions! this one has a similar vibe to my qh43 og snakes one, i think), idk just please be warned, don’t read if you’re not 100% sure.)

(long a/n: my favorites - when i tell you i got carried away (again). but how could i not, when mt19 could not even play in the final cup game because he broke the bone that protects his heart? when poetry like that calls, you have to answer. the playoffs inspired me, mt19 inspired me, enough that i created this fictionalized mt19 character that is basically a bunch of insecurities personified. and the other character is just more of those in bartender form (i loved my bartending years! but they gave me a lot to think about!). so, sorry. this one’s a little sad, sometimes. but you guys seem to like the sad shit, so i hope you like this. apologies if i get caught up in the theatrics, at times. we haven’t done a takeaway in a while, so here’s one - you deserve to be chosen and loved and taken care of because you’re you, not just because you’re around. on a less serious note, can you tell how infatuated i am with mt19′s tooth gap? yeah, i know, i made it too obvious, i need to relax. i got a couple okays on the princess name, so if you don’t like it, you should have said something. am34 is up next, i’m thinking some classic older brother’s best friend, we’ll see if the muses are kind to me. please let me know what you think, i think i’ve made it obvious that your interaction means everything. also you guys literally should have seen me trying to figure out the physics of fucking against a barstool, it was legitimately ridiculous. gif is not mine. sending so so so much love to you and your snakes. go canucks. see you soon. be your own first choice.

meeting new people simply came with the job of bartending. new faces filtered in and out of your bar like wisps of fragrant smoke, most of the time too fleeting to truly remember, never mind get to know.

however, the first day he entered your bar, a peculiar feeling hovered around you: the feeling that you already knew him, deeply and personally.

of course, you recognized him and his small group of teammates from the games that constantly played on the screens above the bar, but this was different. you couldn’t quite place the reason behind the feeling, not yet.

he didn’t approach the counter right away, but it was a saturday night, a busy one, so you were constantly being pulled from one patron to another, barely noticing the passage of time as your hands seemed to never stop moving.

but at some point, there he was, sitting at one of your stools, looking at you like he had all the time in the world, a confident, just bordering on arrogant smirk slanting across his face. you didn’t have the presence of mind or time to appreciate the rest of him, not right now.

but you were paid to treat all customers the same. and at the end of the day, that’s what he was, at least then. just another customer on a busy, hectic night.

“what can i get you?” you asked as you mixed a drink for the party at the other end of the counter. your voice was steady, knowing, friendly, but only just.

his smirk deepened as he leaned forward. “all business for the princess, hm?”

your brow furrowed in confusion before you realized where the name had come from. you absentmindedly adjusted the plastic tiara a birthday party had given you earlier that night - the group of girls around your age had gushed about how delicious their drinks were, how you had made their night, how you just had to have it, how it would look so pretty with your hair.

they were sweet, and they tipped well, so you didn’t push the birthday girl’s hands away when she slid the crown from her head and onto yours, even smiling a bit at the gesture. it was hard not to smile at women being girls again, and you loved the opportunity to be apart of it.

“princess is my side hustle,” you said to him now, keeping your tone even as you poured the colorful drink you were mixing into two glasses.

he made a face that you couldn’t decipher before leaning on one of his hands. “well, listen,” he started, to which you raised a brow. you didn’t like being told to listen - you just did, it was something you were good at, and being told to made you not want to anymore. he nodded to the group he came in with. “my friends over there bet that i couldn’t get your number. want to help me prove them wrong?”

you turned to drop off the drinks before running his words over in your mind. you were hit on all the time, another part of the job. people were attracted to being taken care of, and it was your job to take care of them, which always led to some misunderstandings, some one-sided crushes, some regulars that tipped much more than they needed to.

but something in your stomach dropped at his wording. you didn’t like it, not at all.

“did they?” you asked, actually focusing on his face for the first time that night as you ran a rag over the counter. his eyes were blue, so, so, blue, and almost comically confident, unwavering. as was his smirk, his full lips so perfectly placed and practiced, not quite like a natural habit but more like a learned one.

and then there was the brutal cut of his jawline, only made more prominent by his scruff of facial hair. the way his hair curled over the tops of his ears, a youthful but not juvenile look. his long lashes, elegant nose, flushed complexion, it was a little too perfect, at least for you, right now.

all of his features together appeared more like a masquerade ball mask, not a real, genuine face. it was off-putting, this actor in front of you, the one you had seen on television so many times.

he hummed in affirmation, smirked deeper.

you sighed. “that’s too bad,” you said, to which he gave you what looked like his first genuine expression of the night - one of confusion. “i only give my number to people who ask for it because they want it.”

you had long ago learned your lesson about being the person someone spent time with in order to please someone else. it never ended well.

his brow furrowed in further disbelief, complete lack of understanding, maybe a bit of shock, but you only tossed the rag aside and grabbed a glass. “now, how about a drink?”

he didn’t respond for a second, searching your face for something, maybe an explanation, less probably a spark of remorse. you let him. you weren’t going to budge on this, not tonight, not for him.

he shook out of it, literally, a small shake of his head before the mask was back on, in full strength. “yeah, sure. just an ipa, whatever you’ve got.” he addressed you by the name on your name tag, an act you normally hated, but didn’t mind so much now, in his deep tone.

you gave a small grin as you filled a tall glass. “thank god,” you started. “after the million mixed drinks i’ve had, you might just be my favorite customer.” you set the glass down on a paper napkin in front of him, only meaning to meet his eyes for a second.

once you did, though, you did a double take, now trapped in his gaze, completely transfixed on the pure hope you found there, so devastatingly poorly hidden. this, this was genuine, no mask to be found. the innocent hope lit up his eyes, his face from within, exposing an almost childlike expression that had you so deeply intrigued.

“yeah?” he asked, his voice no longer oozing with arrogance but instead with something you knew well. unbridled wanting. hope, hope, hope. he might as well have the word please scrawled all over his face in thick marker.

you felt your lips curl up at this new discovery, this crack in his exterior that gave you a sense of deja vu. “yeah, matthew,” you said, a little slowly, letting the rest of the bar melt away for a second.

this moment felt hot, sticky, like you were both suspended in amber, neither willing to be the first to break eye contact.

but moments don’t last forever, and suddenly one of his friends was slapping him on the shoulder, saying something loudly about taking too long. you weren’t really listening as you watched his face again harden into that confident expression.

he ordered a round for his friends, and the moment was gone, lost in the neon light, and you were soon pulled again to another patron, the chaotic rhythm of saturday night overtaking you again.

you didn’t see him for the rest of night, caught up in your work. towards the end of your shift, though, you happened to look up, towards the door, urged by some magnetic force, and found his gaze awaiting yours right before he walked out of the door.

a real face, a real look, unveiled and vulnerable, swimming with heat and hope and a million other dangerous things. an expression so true that you had to look away from it’s veracity, complete candor. when you looked up again, he was gone, and you assumed that would be the last time you saw him.

so, a couple nights later, deep into your shift, you almost dropped the glass in your hand when you turned and found him sitting on that same stool at your counter, looking up at you expectantly with those storybook eyes.

“matthew,” you said, softly in greeting, almost a question, confused at his presence, especially on a weeknight, without his teammates. alone, seemingly.

“princess,” he responded, an imperfect smirk playing across his mouth, revealing more teeth than he had the previous night - enough that you could see the gap between his two front, a little detail so beautiful you might have sighed.

“no crown tonight,” you responded, half smiling.

“it was never the crown,” he said, to which you gave a slight shake of your head. it didn’t hide your shy delight.

“where are your friends?” you prompted, slightly suspicious.

something that looked like hurt flashed ever so briefly across his eyes. “they’ll be here, princess, don’t worry.”

you shrugged. “wasn’t worried. just wondering why you’re here alone.”

your last word seemed to strip him entirely, lay him bare in front of you, completely vulnerable. you regretted it immediately, felt almost mean.

“but i guess you’re not alone, right? you’re here with me?” you gave him a smile, tried to will one out of him, too, half-succeeded. “ipa?” you asked, eager to bring this interaction back within the boundaries you were familiar with, ones you could control.

“whatever you’ll give me,” was his odd reply, one that had you scrunch up your face instead of reaching for a glass. “ipa works.”

your voice was laced with confusion. “i know it works. what do you want, though?”

again there was that child-like look in his eyes, veiled by a thin film of doubt, uncertainty.

and somehow you thought you knew what might have been holding him back. you shifted forward, leaned on your elbows, closer than you had been to him before. “what if i promise you’ll still be my favorite, hm? will you tell me then?”

you watched his gaze dip down to your mouth as you spoke, linger there before meeting your eyes again. not like you minded, much as you wanted. a spark of warning fired in your stomach. don’t get too close, it mumbled, you can’t fill anyone’s void.

unfortunately, it was hard to deny the utter satisfaction you felt when he looked at you like this - like you had wiped away all the bad things in the world.

but then hands landed on his shoulders, loud greetings between friends exchanged, ripping you both out of the moment.

“now i know why chucky wanted to come back here,” one of them said eventually, looking at you with a gleam in his eye you didn’t quite like. “i remember you, beautiful.”

“shame,” you said, “i don’t remember you.”

he put a hand over his heart like he’d been hurt, but his smirk was brutally arrogant, almost animalistic. “how about we make sure you don’t forget my name again, yeah?”

you rolled your eyes. “matthew, come get your dog,” you said as you grabbed a couple more glasses and began to pour the same drinks they had ordered the other night.

“you want me to start barking? ‘cause i will,” the persistent teammate pushed before turning to his side. “but it seems like you’re the one she’s got on a leash, matthew.”

you watched his face carefully as you slid the drinks their way, interested to see what would win out - the desire to maintain his mask around his friends or whatever was building between you two.

you bit your lip as you watched the internal struggle play out across his face, shooting a pleading look your way for a millisecond.

you decided to throw him a bone, put his friends in their place. “i meant to tell you. i put your game on yesterday,” you said to him.

“did you?” he asked, so blissfully hopeful.

“yeah,” you said, leaning forward again, letting yourself get a truly greedy look at him. “but i like you better in person.”

you reveled in how desperately pleased he looked by your admission.

“we were playing too, you know,” someone said, half laughing.

“were you?” you asked, a theatrically confused expression on your face. you shrugged. “don’t think i saw you. maybe i was distracted.”

one of his friends laughed. “don’t feed him, beautiful, he’ll just keep coming back.”

but you didn’t even look at whoever said the comment, instead completely locked in on matthew, and he on you.

“god, i hope so,” you said, barely more than a whisper, only meant for him.

just something you said, a true thing, and yet he did. every couple of days you would look up and there he would be, on that stool at your counter, looking up at you. sometimes his friends would come, and sometimes they wouldn’t, and on nights he was playing you would always put the game on the television where you could best see it, so you could best see him.

and despite everything he did, everything he said to you, which screamed longing and interest and want, you were surprised every time he came back. surprised that his interest in you didn’t wear off after the first couple indulgences, like it seemed to with everyone else.

but, then again, matthew struck you as the kind of person who could make a home out of anything, anyone - like the kids who would cry if someone tried to come into their treehouse, as if the magic of the place was defined by it being all for them.

sometimes this job made you feel like a building with a revolving door, so many faces fading immediately as they came into your life. it felt so good to have whatever this was, this constant, even if that warning voice tried to convince you it wasn’t real, it wouldn’t last.

one night, when you put his away game on, he was picking fights, antagonizing the other team, all the while chewing on that abused mouthguard, which never failed to catch your attention, send a little shiver down your spine, make you wonder what those teeth would feel like on your bottom lip, your fingers, your neck.

this night, though, the officials had had enough, and handed him a game misconduct. he skated off the ice, into the tunnel, chants and boos echoing through the arena so loudly that even the television cameras caught their strength.

still, when the camera focused in on matthew’s face, there was nothing but that cocky, knowing smirk, that one that he had showed you the first day. that fake one. you narrowed your eyes at the tv, felt your stomach turn at the fact that he could be two people at once. how could you ever trust him that way? how could you ever believe that he really, truly, wanted you? that warning voice compressed into a lump that settled in your stomach.

the lump was still there that next night, and so was he, there in his usual spot, right before you were about to close. “missed you, princess,” he said, those blue eyes so full of meaning.

and you hated how those words meant so much to you. “yeah?” you asked, wiping down the counter. “what’d you miss?”

you expected the answer that so many people in your life had given you before: how they liked how you made them feel, how you paid attention to them. nothing about you, rather something that said more about them.

so you were stunned when his gaze dropped to you lips and stayed there. “think i started to dream about your smile,” he said, and you may have sighed, just a little, as you felt your cheeks flush.

“did you watch me?” he asked, that spark of hope lighting up his face in a silent plea.

you nodded slowly, remembering the game. “wish you had stayed on the ice longer.”

he shrugged, the motion emphasizing the muscles in his shoulders and neck. you pretended not to notice.

“why do you smile when they hate you?” you asked, your head tilted in genuine curiosity, recalling his face as he made his way down the tunnel.

there was that mask again. “i love it.”

“you don’t,” you said, shaking your head slightly, watched him swallow.

“what?” he asked. you could have imagined the smallest shake in his voice.

“you don’t. you do that other smile you do.” you didn’t tell him your theory, that you knew if a crowd booed loud enough, maybe he could close his eyes and pretend they were cheering, instead. pretend it was love.

he made a sound that was half-laugh, half-scoff. “what other smile?”

you bit your lip, unsure how to explain it. you reached your hands forward, paused for a moment as his eyes widened, so flooded with want. that beautiful second of expectation before a first touch, the first of what you inherently knew would be many.

“like-” you put your hands on his face, ever so lightly, moved his lips until that cocky smirk was opposite you. “like this.”

“like this, princess?” he asked through your fingers, his breath on your palms, and heat thrummed in your stomach.

you nodded slowly, reluctant to take your hands off of him. “and my favorite one is like this,” you said, moving his lips again until you were satisfied with the replica smile you had created, toothy and wide and beautiful - until you realized he was smiling at you like that anyways, without any manipulation.

you grinned back at him, melted at the simmering heat and longing in his eyes. before you could question it, you let yourself tap one finger to his front teeth, feeling the gap there, that imperfect feature you had most loved when you first saw it, felt your throat tighten at the way he was looked at you, the way he let his mouth just barely close around your finger.

a feather light motion that made your next breath come out shaky before drawing yourself away. you hadn’t realized just how close you had drifted towards him, even with the counter between you.

you glanced at the clock on the wall, surprised to see it much later than you expected. “i need to close,” you said, clearing your throat. “i need to count the register.”

“okay.” he looked dazed. maybe in a cartoon there would have been pink mist or little hearts floating around his head.

you tried to collect yourself, ignore the phantom of his lips around your finger, a ghost of a kiss, a promise, a plea.

you gave a shake of your head. “i need to sit there. the register unlocks from that side, in front of your chair.”

your stomach dropped at the sudden darkness his eyes took on, so much so that you knew you would give in to whatever he said next.

instead of getting up, he pushed his hips up and back, spread his legs apart, settling deeper into the seat. “seat’s open, princess,” he said, and the confidence in his voice, all over his face, it wasn’t fake, it wasn’t a mask.

it was real, genuine, set ablaze by your touch.

you looked around. you were closed, everyone was gone on this monday night, except the owner, a lady older than sin who was mopping in the corner, and who was known for minding her own business.

there was nobody to judge you there, nobody to punish you for giving into this, exactly what you wanted.

time felt like jelly as you made your way around the counter, paused for a beat in front of him before he helped you up onto his lap by your waist, faced you towards the register drawer, let his arms rest around your middle.

“this okay?” he asked softly, his breathy rasp warm on your neck.

you breathed out a yes, slightly overwhelmed by all of this touch at once. his chest behind you, radiating heat, his thighs firm below you, thick arms around you. here he was, everywhere, all at the same time, and after only interacting with a counter between you, this felt almost absurdly perfect, forbidden.

so perfect that it took every semblance of your concentration to unlock the register drawer, to push the rise and fall of his chest to the back of your mind, to ignore how your own body seemed to melt into his, relax completely, an utterly miraculous contrast to the stiff, constantly active way you usually were at work.

“still okay?” he asked as he rested his head on your shoulder. you could feel his facial hair through your thin shirt, smell his cologne, knew you would smell like it, too. his thighs flexed underneath you, and you could have moaned. you were having trouble focusing on counting, never mind answering his question.

he rumbled with a laugh you felt more than heard. “princess?”

“still okay,” you managed, “but you have to be still. i need to count.”

you felt him nod and smile into your shoulder as you got to counting, the rhythm of the bills eventually lining up with the rhythm of his breathing against your back, so peaceful and right that maybe, eventually, you both would have fallen asleep like this.

“finished,” you whispered when you were done, organizing everything back where it needed to go, soaking up the last few moments of his touch for that night.

“already?” he asked, although it had probably been half an hour.

you hummed, pushed yourself up and off of him, even as his hands continued to reach for you, his gaze hungry.

so hungry it scared you. you still didn’t quite know if he just wanted someone, or if he wanted you, if he would have acted this way for anyone who asked the right questions, gave him the attention he craved, saw through his mask.

hungry, hungry, hungry, and what scared you most was that you knew that you weren’t hungry for just anyone. only for him. and that question of reciprocation, it was like injecting ice into your blood.

“it’s late,” you said. “you have to go.”

if he was hurt, he didn’t show it, seemingly completely fine with taking things however slowly you wanted to. “okay,” he said. “may i have your number, please?” there was your favorite smile.

you smiled, despite yourself. “why?”

maybe it was the late hour that caused him to misspeak when he said, “because i want you.” he quickly realized his mistake and flushed, only just. “it!” he corrected, looking like a kid with chocolate he wasn’t supposed to eat schmeared all over his face. “i meant i want it.”

you fluttered at his mix-up, delighted that maybe he meant what he said. enough that this time, you didn’t deny his request.

it was a while before you saw him again in person, as he had back to back games and then several away contests before coming home again. but, like always, you put him on the screen by the bar, feeling yourself warm every time the camera caught his face.

one night, a late night, a couple hours after one of his games had ended, you looked up and you saw him at the doorway.

a bad feeling immediately bloomed inside you.

it had been a tough loss, close until the end, and one of his stupid penalties had forced a power play goal in overtime for the opponent. worse, this result had been crucial for their playoff bid. it wasn’t looking good.

you had not expected to see him tonight - he usually didn’t come by on game nights, only on nights off. and he didn’t look right as he stood under the neon signs at the door, he looked off. he looked drunk.

his speech was slow and slurred, making you cringe. after a couple of years at this job, oh, how you hated drunk people. oh, how you never wanted to see him like this, so at the mercy of something as truly stupid as alcohol.

and even more so, how you hated to see him drink himself stupid, how you wanted to make everything all better. you signaled for the bar-back to cover for a moment.

you walked around the counter and approached him. “matthew,” you began, “what’s going on?” you tentatively touched his forearm before grabbing one of his hands, wrapping it in both of yours, bitterly aware that he was not present as you were.

“oh, princess,” he said, stumbling just a bit into your grip as you pulled him outside. he mumbled something you couldn’t hear before laughing, but the laugh was cruel, devastated.

when you were outside, the only audience was the small group of smokers that always hung around the front of the bar. you took his face in your hands. “tell me what happened.”

“what happened?” he said slowly. “what happened?” he repeated, maybe asking himself. “ruined it, always ruin it, ruin everything.” his voice came out like a haunted childlike sing-song. it made your heart shatter.

you looked in his eyes, still holding his face. “you do not ruin everything, okay? you just need to go home and sleep this off.”

“princess, princess, always tryna’ make me feel better,” he slurred, letting the whole weight of his head rest in your hands, your fingertips touching the wisps that curled around his ears. he stumbled forward into you. “need to kiss you, yeah? make me feel better.”

you dropped your hands from his cheeks as if you had been scalded. if your heart wasn’t broken before, it was now, as you pushed his chest away while he leaned forward. you felt tears begin to prickle on your waterline.

of course, he wanted you now, when he was begging to be taken care of, when he was outwardly desperate to be reassured, when his vision was probably so impaired that he couldn’t really even see your face.

of course he wanted you now, when you could have been anyone.

“one of our cabs will take you home,” you said, trying to hide the wobble in your voice as you waved one over, barely able to look at him.

he pouted. “what?” he said, teasing, but there was a bite to his tone. “don’t like me like this? not your favorite anymore?”

you didn’t have the energy to scoff. “don’t be mean. sober up. goodnight.” you opened the car door for him, forced him down into the seat.

“don’t you want to kiss me?” he pressed, looked up at you, like he had before so many times from his barstool. like he had so many times, when it had been different.

oh, how they love to be taken care of. and look at you, taking care of them. desperate, foolish girl.

and even now, you couldn’t bring yourself to lie, to say no. “ask me when you’re not out of your mind.” you shut the car door and turned away, wiped your eyes with your sleeves quickly and methodically before taking a breath and getting back to the bar, to your job.

but you were a shell of yourself for the rest of the night, his words repeating over and over again in your mind. make me feel better.

so you blocked his number that you had just added, sighed of relief when one of your colleagues mentioned his team was headed away for a long stretch on the road. a week and a half without him. surely, completely isolated from him, you could forget about what happened.

and you half-believed that, until you came into work that next day and realized you would not be completely isolated from him at all.

right next to his stool there sat a bouquet of flowers and a red jersey, folded up. you already knew what name was on the back. you stood still at the entrance, reluctant to approach the offering.

“left it earlier,” the owner called from across the room, sweeping. “i told ‘m to fuck off, but he wouldn’t.”

“thanks anyways,” you said.

“i asked him why not,” she continued, the barest hint of a smile on her thin lips.

you furrowed your brow, confused.

“asked why he wouldn’t fuck off,” she said, “took him a second.”

you breathed out a laugh.

“said you didn’t know how much he cared, yet. and he needed you to know.”

you swallowed. “that’s nice of him,” you said, running the words over in your mind.

“not everyone deserves your second chances,” she said. “but i don’t let just anyone in our bar before we open.”

the words settled between you like diamond dust. the owner finished sweeping and left.

you approached the gift, found a note sitting on top of it in terrible handwriting.

i’m sorry, it read, i’m back next thursday. i’ll ask you then. you wondered briefly what he was going to ask you before you recalled what he had said to you that night when you put him in a car. your inability to fully turn him away.

you took a shaky breath as you read the last line of the note.

even if i’m not your favorite, you’re still mine.

your stomach fluttered, surprising you. so simple, and yet those words meant everything to you. that even when he got nothing from you, he wanted you still.

you hoped and hoped and hoped he meant it, and you believed it enough that you put the flowers in a vase and wore the jersey for each of his game days.

thursday came faster than you thought it would, probably because of how nervous you were. in this time apart, anything could be true. he could mean what he said, he could want you and only you, you could be counting down the minutes until finally kissing him, touching him how you so desired.

deep down, you were so deeply afraid that when he showed up, if he even showed up, that dreamy facade would be broken, and instead all of your greatest worries and insecurities would be realized.

throughout your whole thursday night shift, you were jittery, versions of how tonight could play out flashing through your mind.

the entire night flew by, until eventually it was time to close, and you tried to ignore your heart sinking. maybe this version of tonight, the one with you alone, maybe this one was for the best.

you counted the register, began to mop, waved goodnight to the owner as she left for the night and reminded you to lock up.

you did your final wipe-down of the counter, feeling the devastation begin to finally set in. you scrunched up your face, told yourself you wouldn’t cry on your bar top.

“princess.”

you looked up, and there he was, draped in neon light, and for a second it looked like sunlight streaming in through church stained-glass windows.

the sentiment didn’t seem altogether different. how many prayers had been answered at this bar? how many homemade temples had been elicited? how many haphazard gods?

“didn’t think you were coming,” you said as he made his way over to you, sat down on his stool, exactly the same dynamic as that first day, but there was no one else. only you and him.

“it’s my fault you ever had a doubt,” he said, looking up at you with those blue, blue eyes, an ocean of apology.

you nodded, tossed the rag aside, rested your forearms on the counter and looked at him, eye to eye, and waited for him to say something.

“i’m sorry,” he said simply, and there was no mask to be found, only genuine regret. “i’m sorry i showed up here the way i did, i’m sorry i embarrassed you at work, i’m sorry i made you feel like just another person.”

you felt your heart stitching itself back together, however painful the process. he gently took your hands in his, warm and rough and firm. “you’re not just another person, okay, princess?” his voice was rough.

your exhale was choppy, so forced you had to close your eyes for a second. how long had you waited to hear somebody say that to you?

“you didn’t embarrass me,” you whispered. “i could never be ashamed of you.”

he gave the smallest laugh, shook his head. “even now, that’s what you focus on. how i’m feeling.”

“only because i care about how you’re feeling,” you said, almost defensive.

“you gonna let me care about how you’re feeling?” he asked, his thumbs tracing circles on your palms.

you stayed quiet, bit your lip, searched his eyes for an trace of doubt, falseness, didn’t find any. only a slowly simmering flame, drowning in want.

“you’re too far away,” you whispered.

“i’ve always resented this counter,” he said with a hint of a smile.

you gave a small smile back as you walked around the bar top, finally stood in front of him, exhaled before sitting down on top of him, your legs straddling his hips, your faces only a breath apart. you clasped your arms around his neck, leaned forward into his chest as his hands settled on your hips.

“ask me,” you all but begged.

his voice was a low rasp, his gaze syrupy with lust. “don’t you want to kiss me?”

you nodded, and he smiled, and then you were leaning forward, finally capturing his lips in a kiss that felt like neon light and television static and a million pleases, all finally answered with of course, anything for you.

you let yourself melt into his chest, tangled a hand in his curls, felt his grip tighten on the flesh at your hips.

he smiled into your mouth when you ran your tongue along the gap between his front teeth, groaned when you began to move your hips back and forth across his lap.

you tugged at the curls at the nape of his neck as you felt him grow harder beneath you, to which he bit down ever so lightly on your bottom lip, the feeling even better than what you had imagined all those times you had watched him gnaw on his mouthguard.

he used his grip to set your hips into a rhythm as you ground down on his lap.

“want to taste you so bad, princess,” he breathed into your mouth. “let me take care of you, yeah? just want to make you feel good.”

you nodded feverishly, tugged at your clothes as he lifted you off of his lap and rested you back onto the counter.

laid bare for him, you become aware of how wet you already were, perhaps the result of all the waiting, the questioning, the wanting that had existed between you both since the beginning.

he groaned at the sight of you. “fuck,” he rasped, “so wet already, hm?” he ran a finger through your folds, brought it to his mouth and sucked. “who’s this for, princess?”

“for you,” you whimpered, so eager for him to touch you how you wanted. “for you, matthew.”

“all for me.” you could hear the satisfaction in his voice before he leaned forward and began to tease you with his tongue, forced a choked moan from your throat.

one of your hands braced the counter for stability while the other shot forward of its own volition, grasping a handful of his curls, making him grunt. the noise vibrated through you.

“fuck,” you bit out, overwhelmed. he pressed his tongue flat against your clit, making your hips push up into him and your grip on his hair tighten. “fuck, you’re good at that.”

you felt his smile as he pushed two fingers inside of you, began to move them in and out slowly while continuing to tongue your clit.

you moaned loudly as your eyes rolled back, the combination of sensations making it hard to control your breathing, stop your back from arching up off the counter.

he brought his other hand to your stomach and pressed down, cementing your hips down into the bar top, intensifying every shock of pleasure, immediately bringing you impossibly close. “fuck, i can’t,” you whimpered, your hand grasping for sheets that weren’t there. “can’t, shit, so close-”

he lifted his head up, thumbed your clit while curling his fingers slightly inside of you. “gonna cum for me?” he cooed.

you nodded, eyes scrunched shut.

“cum, then, princess,” he pressed. “make a mess for me, hm?”

that building wave finally crashed over you, and you gave him exactly what he wanted, reveled in the fact that you could.

you caught your breath, let out a weak exhale, opened your eyes when you felt him press a light kiss against your hip, on the side of your ribs, up to your collarbone, finally on your lips.

pressed against you, you could feel every inch of him, so hard, immediately making you hungry for him again. “more,” you pleaded simply.

“yeah?” he rasped against your lips. “want more of me?”

you palmed his cock in reply, making him hiss, helped him move his clothes aside. “need to feel you inside me.”

he shifted you off of the counter and against his stool, which you immediately bent over and rested your forearms on.

he groaned, pumped his cock once, twice. “tell me this is okay, princess.”

you nodded. “please fuck me, matthew.”

he did as told, pushing inside you entirely, barely giving you any time to adjust before he set a brutal pace, practically splitting you in half.

“holy fuck,” he choked out as you stretched around him. “shit, you’re so perfect for me. bein’ so good, princess, stretching for me so well.”

you moaned as you began to adjust to his size, every part of you still so sensitive from your last orgasm.

he built up his rhythm, forceful and deep but never so much that it hurt, only a pleasant pressure that began to build inside of you.

“so deep,” you whined, your voice muffled by your own arm, “fuck, feels so good.”

he grunted in time with a slow thrust in response, making your eyes squeeze shut at the sensation.

“want to see you,” he rasped, hooking one hand around your thigh and flipping you around before pushing back into you, so that now your back was against the stool, your front facing him, one knee bent. he groaned when your eyes met. “fuck, like that.”

you reached one arm up to his shoulder for support, rested the other one back against the stool. your thighs began to shake from the stimulation, making you clench down on him harder, urging another deep moan from him.

time disappeared as the rhythm of you both continued, so lost in the feeling of him and his noises, so perfect and better than anything you had imagined.

at one point, he brought one of his hands to your clit, began to tease you again with his thumb, while the other hand braced the back of your neck.

“hm, look, princess,” he said, his voice rough with wear, as he forced your gaze down to where your bodies met. “watch me fuck you, yeah?”

you whimpered at his crudeness, couldn’t tear your eyes away from the sight in front of you, his cock thrusting into you, his hands willing you to the edge again.

he let out a choked laugh. “oh, you like that, hm? feel you close.”

“fuck, i’m so close, matthew,” you whimpered, feeling your legs give out.

“‘s okay, princess, ‘m there too,” he mumbled, his motions becoming less controlled. “cum with me, yeah? want to feel you cream on my cock.”

you did as he asked, spurred on by his words, the overstimulation. you felt him reach his high with a groan, warm inside of you, his body collapsing against yours.

you held each other close for several long moments, the only noise between you satisfied breaths and shallow heartbeats. the air was warm, so peaceful, and you bit back a smile at how this bar was now forever changed - this peace would never leave.

you felt his facial hair scratch gently against your shoulder as his head rested there, so content to simply have you close.

it could have been a lifetime. it was probably a minute or two.

he was the first to speak. “so,” he said, drowsy and sweet, “you guys still open? how’re my chances of getting a captain and coke?”

you smiled. how far you had come from the man with the mask asking for anything, maybe an ipa.

if please had been written all over him before, x’s and o’s were now, in pastel pink.

“anything for my favorite,” you said, and he kissed just under your ear.

fin.

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buckyegans · 7 months

Note

I need ice man headcannons taking care of pregnant reader or ice man headcannons of being a good husband to reader?

Sure thing! Thanks for the request!

no warnings to my knowledge. gender neutral reader as always!

note: i am such a sucker for tom kazansky…you already know this is lengthy. will feature a mix of civilian! and pilot! reader.

Oh, where do I start? There’s so much to cover here!

Firstly, Tom Kazansky is thee best husband. If there was an award, he would be the winner

Behind that cold and arrogant demeanor is the most loving man who really knows how to take care of his spouse

He’s a big fan of little domestic things. He definitely isn’t much of a cook due to being out most of the day, but he loves to surprise his partner with baked goods (always from a box, but you let it slide). You can’t ever get enough of the infamous Iceman, presenting you with a pan of brownies, smeared with messy icing and stray sprinkles—his smile is what makes it all worth it

House chores? Count on Ice to get it done. While your bed is made with folded hospital corners, you opt not to say anything because that’s just the Tom Kazansky way.

Laundry? He’s quite literally throwing the basket of dirty clothes down the stairs to make his life easier on you.

Date nights are sort of russian roulette. If you’ve both had a long day at Top Gun, take-out is your go-to. If you have a bit of a slower day, maybe you’ll clean the dining room table and pour some wine.

If you’re a pilot, leave it to Ice to make a hard day better. Another aviator said something about you? Done. Lost your helmet? Take his. Forgot your lunch at home? Share his, you made it anyways. Wanna beat him at dogfighting? He’d let you.

If you’re a civilian, it’s much of the same. Your car broke down, Ice is there. Work was tough, he’s bringing a pizza home and letting you lay on top of him while watching a movie, rubbing your back as he comforts you.

Tom Kazansky is a good husband—if not the best. He gets shit on from the guys for being so whipped, but that’s only because he scored someone as great as you.

If his spouse is a pilot, Ice would definitely be protective—but he’d hang back, knowing you can hold your own. He loves being able to compete with his partner and then go home and seperate his home life from his work one. It’s refreshing. He doesn’t think he could stand being able to be head to head in the sky and at home.

Tom Kazansky is a competitive guy. He’ll race you up the stairs, to the car, and he takes board games way too seriously. But, if it made you happy, he would let you win

Again, he loves the little moments. Like when you laughed as you put your cold feet on him in bed, slow-dancing while you waited for the pancakes to cook, or your slow morning routines. Tom especially loves it if you sit on the bathroom counter and shave for him. He doesn’t know why, but it feels intimate. He loves it, and will always ask you to join him if you aren’t busy.

Tom loves your hair. Whether it’s short, long, up, down, curly, or pin-straight, he loves it. Messing with it, styling it, whatever. He likes it in return too, especially when his tips need touched up.

Tom’s kind of a mush. Sappy. Lovesick. He loves to mess with the wedding band on your finger, smiling to himself about how he lucked out on a piece like yourself. He loves to do cliche things—bring you flowers, put a record on and dance in the living room, bathe together, but only if you’re up for it, too.

If Tom is anything, he is such a loser for you. You got new clothes and want to show him? He’s seated—he will even ask you to do a spin for him. You want to tell a story he’s heard a million times—tell him, he’ll act like he’s never heard it. You wanna play a movie—you choose, you like it, so he wants to like it, too.

He is such a fan of everything you do, he’ll always be there to root for you. His main goal in his marriage is for his spouse to feel comfortable with him, and Tom Kazansky will do everything to get to that point.

Tom Kazansky is a really good husband, y’all. He is Husband Material ™

#iceman top gun #iceman x reader #tom kazansky #tom kazansky x reader #top gun x reader #tom kazansky imagine

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shhh-secret-time · 19 days

Text

Stan Marsh

26 y.o (He/Him)

Soul Synergy: Anything you write on your skin will appear on your soulmate.

Headcanons:

◇ Worked on his father's farm for years, while he didn't want to he stayed for his mom

◇ Shelly moved out and left South Park for a different college. The two aren't close, but they're better than when he was a kid.

◇ He works part-time at the university radio station with Jimmy.

》 Jimmy does most of the commentary, Stan will pitch it sometimes, but he leaves most of the talking to him. Stan is in charge of the music

◇ He has snuck some of Crimson Dawn on air and did the same for Timmy's band. Jimmy doesn't care, but he gives Stan a hard time about it.

◇ Going to college on a sports scholarship, to no one's surprise

》 The surprise came when he almost lost it all.

◇ He struggled heavily with alcoholism when he first moved out of his parents house

◇ Used to go out night after night, being invited to parties and hang out events

◇ It didn't seem like a problem until he woke up with vomit in his hair and had no memory of the last three days.

》 His hair used to be longer but he decided to cut it after that.

◇ It takes the other three to help snap him out of it, not just Kyle.

◇ After that he went and got help, of course the other three had his back. Kyle helped him find the support groups needed around campus. Kenny spread the word of keeping alcohol away from Stan, and Cartman enforced it.

◇ They have a system when they go to parties or out to eat with him. Kenny will give everyone the warning, do not offer him alcohol. Not as a joke, it's not funny. Wanna flirt with him, buy him something else. If you invite him to a party, have some fucking sodas or juice.

◇ Cartman is the next step if for some reason you don't decide to listen. Absolutely embarrasses the person, socially tears them apart. We all know he's very good at turning a crowd on people.

◇ Kyle is the big guns, he lives with Stan. He's his best friend. His super best friend, and he'll be damned if he lets anything happen to him. Kyle's not afraid to let the person know just how small they are and will throw hands if need be.

》 Luckily, it hasn't gotten that far. Most people stop at Cartman.

◇ Stan has worked very hard since then to keep himself clean. He's cut alcohol out completely because he knows how easy it is to slip back into it.

◇ When he feels himself slipping again or tempted, he goes to the gym. He writes a song, goes for a jog, bugs someone with board games, does literally anything to keep his mind off it.

》 His last resort is smoking a cigarette, Kyle doesn't like it, but it's better than the alternative

◇ Stan was able to keep his scholarship but it took a lot of work, and a lot of dedication.

◇ The necklace was a gift from the three boys after Stan's second year clean. They all wrote something up on each line and had Kenny carve it in.

》 Kyle: I'm proud of you man. Keep it up, or I'll kick your ass. -SB

》 Kenny: I am always a call away. I've got you Stan, I love you handsome.

》 Cartman: Don't be fucking stupid. I'm the only one who gets to ruin your life.

(Cartman took up some of Kyle's line. It makes Stan smile everytime he sees it)

◇ It's incredibly corny and off brand for him but he never takes it off, that necklace means everything to him.

◇ He's still the quarterback on the team, and the pressure sometimes gets to him.

◇ He plays basketball with Kyle sometimes, but he's not a fan of getting his ankles rolled all the time so he only does it when he needs to get Kyle to relax

◇ His depression is still there, it never really goes away, but he's got a better understanding of it

◇ Goes to a proper doctor and gets the help he needs. After a few therapist visits, he gets a prescription for it and now here he is.

◇ Since Kenny and Karen live so close Karen helps remind him to take his meds. She leaves him little snacks with every pills.

》 Skittles one day, M&Ms another, Cashews, and then a Reese's cup at the end of the week (I just like the idea of the group adopting Karen, but she adopts them back ya know?)

◇ No one else knows about this, Stan's a bit embarrassed by it but he finds it adorable that she's trying

◇ It makes him want to be better. So he works hard to keep a routine and a method.

◇ When he feels like he hates himself, he showers

◇ When he feels like he hates other people, he needs to eat

◇ When he feels withdrawal or if he's tired, he needs water.

◇ Has a special water bottle that Gary got him.

◇ Begs Kyle to go to the gym with him, he can't go alone he needs his buddy!

》 They end up making it a game. Who can push the other one to giving up.

》 Kyle does a certain number in a set, well Stan does one more. Stan runs for a certain amount of time on the treadmill, well Kyle runs faster and longer.

》 They pay for it in the morning but it's worth it

◇ Was the forever DM in his board game nights. He has all the D&D books, most of them are those special covered ones

◇ The local comic book store knows him well, and they save a book for him when they come out

◇ He still paints minis, for Christmas one year he got everyone's characters! Hand painted them and gave them out

》 He was so proud. And then Kenny lost his character the next session

》 Kenny's character is on the shelf near his books. Forever immortalized next to the players guide

◇ On days where everyone can't make it they play test a different system

◇ Wild Talents -> Superheros

◇ Deadlands -> Cowboys

◇ Traveler -> Sci-fi

◇ Red Market -> Zombie Apocalypse

◇ When Stan finally finishes his campaign and Kyle takes over, it takes him a minute to shift back into being a player! (I'm projecting)

◇ He has Wendy and Nichole over, of course! They can't make it all the time (Nichole has her own campaign that Stan's a part of and Wendy is a busy little lady), so they guest star!

◇ Gets together with Nichole and they plot ways to bully their players. (Rip Kenneth)

》 If people don't feel like playing TTRPGS he's got plenty of board games! (Honestly dude I can go on forever about this. I'm big time projecting, so I'm gonna end it here.)

◇ Stan loves his messenger bag, its got more patches in it then just the deftones on the side

◇ Collects band patches like a punk does for their jackets

◇ Anytime he goes to a local band gig he buys a patch (support local artists)

◇ Of course he has his guitar. Even if I didn't draw it!

◇ Cherry red guitar that he babies, he loves his guitar more then anything else he owns.

◇ Kyle got it for him when they both graduated high-school, it means the world to him

◇ His case for it has seen better days, most of the scratches are covered in stickers people have slapped on it.

◇ Honestly, he's got like one or two that he put on

◇ It's a game around the university: Get a Sticker on Marsh's Case

》 Craig's in the lead.

◇ Like Kyle does with Stan's inhaler. Stan carries insulin in his messenger bag for Kyle.

》 He knows Kyle doesn't pay attention to himself and lets his blood sugar drop so he also carries snacks

◇ The bright pink lighter and the lighter case was given to him by the guys, because that dummy always loses his lighter.

》 Every other day he's asking to borrow a lighter because he lost his

◇ Yet he knows where everyone of his guitar picks are, which is ridiculous

◇ Has a shit ton of them too, carries them in a little case!

◇ Stan will fist fight anyone who touches that brown journal, there's so much in there. (You know that feeling you get when someone asks to see your sketchbook? Yeah.)

◇ Lyrics for Crimson Dawn, poems that will never see the light of day, magic cards he uses as bookmarks,and campaign ideas

》 A few pages that have been ripped out and or burned out. Usually means he's had a bad day and needed to get it out

◇ The other thing he's protective of is his headphones, he's not sure why. There's nothing special about those white headphones. But they're his, and they got him through high-school.

◇ He was actually super happy about his Soul Synergy

◇ He already had a habit of doodling on his skin, so it was a surprise it manifested like this

◇ Kyle does get onto him about how often he marks on his skin. He orders Stan those Body Mark markers.

◇ When pictures or words show up on his skin it tickles, it's like he can feel the marker or pen

◇ That's the only part he hates, it tickles him and he's extremely ticklish (perish.)

◇ Doodles, lists, lyrics, and notes on things to do later. For some reason he's protective over all of them, and it makes him slightly sad when they go away.

It a few hours of sitting still, but it's finally done. Red takes a wipe and swipes it across his forearm, the moist wipe feels good against his skin. It's irritated from being poked over and over again, he can still feel the buzz of the needle.

The wipe reveals the jagged Soundwave tattoo stretching down his forearm. He smiles at it and almost goes to touch it, but stops himself. From the way his tattoo artist glares at him, he knows better.

He tries, he really does, to listen to Red as she goes through the steps on how to take care of it. But it's hard when he keeps staring at it, wondering if his little plan worked.

On the outside, it certainly seems narcissistic to get one's voice tattooed on one's self. But Stan could live with the whispers or the questions if it meant it was on the skin of his soulmate too. It wasn't anyone else's business what it was, that was between him and them.

After all Stan worked very hard to get that recording of him singing, You are my Sunshine, just right.

(Here's the blank ♡)

#south park #sp fanfiction #south park fanfiction #secret soulmate au #Stan Marsh #Soulmate au #south park fanart #drabble #headcanons #reader insert #south park x reader #x reader #soul synergy #shhh its a secret

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m-writes-stories · 7 months

Text

The Kansas City Couple Pt 2

TAKES PLACE DURING TRAINING CAMP AND PRESEASON GAMES (JUNE-AUGUST 2023)

Word Count: 1117

Warnings: Car accident

Interviewer: We are back. It is training camp time. And we are only here with Y/N. Why isn’t Travis here?

Y/N: So during training camp, Travis stays on the Missouri Western State campus. So I only see him at practice. So I saw him yesterday morning but he stayed there. So I’ll see him again tomorrow morning at practice again.

Interviewer: So why do they stay on campus when they could just come back?

Y/N: So the 9:30-12 practice that community members can see isn’t the full practice. So they actually come back at 1 and practice for another 2 and a half hours. So it is easier for the players to just stay in the dorms on campus than it is to drive all the way home. They also normally do team bonding skills after practice. I know that this year there are 8 PS4s and like 6 X-Boxs. So they are most likely doing a huge madden tournament. Honestly it is good for them to have that time together as a team. I know a couple of years ago there was a lot of separation between the rookies and the vets as training camp. And now they stay at campus. It is really funny cause Pat (Patrick Mahomes) called me the other day and we were talking and he goes “you know that Trav leaves early every night from our Madden tournament to call you right?” and I was confused. He said “every night when he calls you, we are most likely playing Madden, and he just gets up and leaves. He normally comes back 30 minutes to an hour later.” Which is funny cause he is calling me right now, (Answers the phone). Hi Trav! “Hey baby, what are you doing?” I am filming the documentary. Can I call you back after like an hour? “Yeah that's fine I love you!” I love you too. That is normally not how our conversations go. But we need to film so he can wait. He probably wasn’t doing anything important anyway.

Interviewer: Is it hard not having Travis here?

Y/N: It definitely was in the beginning. But it is mostly normal now. I’m sorta used to it. I have been doing this for so long. You know literally since day 1. So since then it has been getting easier. I don’t know if it is 100% easy, but I am pretty much used to him not being here for basically 3 months straight. We call and text and facetime so often it is kind of like he is here. There are evenings when he isn’t playing Madden and I am just walking around the house with him on Facetime. And it is literally like he is at the house.

Interviewer: What do you think about the Podcast?

Y/N: The New Heights podcast. Um, it's fun. I think Travis has so much fun with it. I love that he gets to talk to Jason (Travis’s brother). They are both so busy during the season and this is something that they can do to stay close. Even in past years with having Tuesdays off, there wasn’t a lot of time for them to sit down and talk. And so now with the podcast they have a set time to not be bothered. Which actually rarely happens, they get interrupted a lot, between me and the girls. Something is interrupting them.

Interviewer: So we talked about this during the off season, that you and Travis were off and on throughout high school. And you mentioned that you were in a car accident your senior year. Can we talk about that?

Y/N: yeah for sure. We can talk about that. So yes I was in a car accident my senior year. In January of that year I was driving home from wrestling practice and I hit a very slick patch of the road and slid into the ditch. But the ditch happened to ot be super deep so I actually just rolled over the ditch and rolled my car like 6 times. This is funny but not at the same time. It was actually Travis that found me. So this was back before we had cell phones. But we lived pretty close to each other, and the plan was that after practice I was to go to his house for a family dinner type thing. Well it had gotten way past the time that I should have been at his house. So he told his parents that he was going to drive the normal route to school, which is the same for both of us, and he found my car.

Interviewer: So you said in the previous interview that the accident kind of put a barrier between you and Travis. May we ask why?

Y/N: So being a wrestler and a softball player, I was determined after the accident to get back to 100% health. And I kind of pushed myself harder than I should have and it took me a while to realize that. But during the first like 3 weeks after the accident, there were times that I felt Travis being too protective. He was really just trying to get me to rest and take it easy. And all I wanted to do was to get back to being 100%. So I decided around the beginning of February that it would be best if Travis and I took a break. So we did and in April when I was finally feeling like myself again we ended up getting back together. And we have been together since.

Interviewer: So with that being said we know you wrestled at the college level. Was there ever a time when you felt Travis cared more about football than you or your wrestling?

Y/N: We definitely had arguments about that throughout college. But it was never that I felt he didn’t care about me or my wrestling career. It was more that we had two completely different focuses for a good chunk of the school year that we had a hard time spending time together. There were fights where we said that our individual sport was more important. But at the end of the day we knew that wasn’t true and that the other person came first.

Interviewer: I know fans would love to have multiple episodes with just you but we are going to hopefully get Travis back in for an interview. Hopefully after the first preseason game. We would love to talk about how he is feeling. But we will have to make time to get him to sit down and talk.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: I also want to say that my requests are open for Travis only right now. So go send in all your Travis Kelce one shot ideas,

Love you all, M

#m-writes-stories #travis kelce fanfic #travis kelce x reader #travis kelce

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kazumist · 4 months

Text

EPISODE 18 ♡ KISS ME BEFORE I GO?

HOW YOU GET THE GIRL — A SCARAMOUCHE SMAU

masterlist / prev ep / next ep / wc: 1062.

cw: more drinking (sorry), more profanities too, a kiss somewhere in there (is that really a warning?)

“we leave you alone for one second, and you’re already picking fights.” kazuha scolds kuni as soon as he gets back to their table.

kunikuzushi doesn’t know how you and heizou got to the table as well. but now, you’re all sitting around and playing “spin the bottle”. the game is simple, you spin the bottle, and whoever it lands on has to take a shot.

the bottle stops spinning.

and it lands on you.

“hand it over.” you downed the shot of tequila.

you again.

“i’ll take it.” kuni says. he got glances from the others but they gave him the shot anyway.

lyney spins the bottle, but it lands on you again.

what fuck is up with this bottle? you thought.

“i’ll also—” kuni gets cut off by someone.

“i’ll take it," heizou says.

the tension was getting thicker.

the bottle was spun again, but this time it landed on kuni. you took the shot for him.

one last spin, and it lands on you again.

“me.”

both kuni and heizou said it at the same time.

“to kuni.” lyney slides the shot over to him.

“fucking hell, it’ll take me a years to get drunk at this point.” you said, grabbing the bottle from lyney and drinking the remains in seconds. there wasn’t that much left anyway, so you were still good.

“okay, next game! this one is a personal favorite. it’s called king’s cup. each of you will pick out a card, and each card corresponds to an action. kuni, would you mind doing the honors of shuffling our lovely deck?” lyney says.

as soon as kuni stops shuffling the deck, the game starts. “kazuha, you go.”

“three of hearts. three means me. i’ll take two shots, then.” kazuha says, downing the two drinks immediately.

“lynette, you’re up next.”

“nine, rhyme. let’s go with lie.”

“sky.” kazuha replies.

“fly.” lyney’s eyes slowly watch over everyone.

“cry.” you said. kuni looks at you.

“try.” heizou looks at kuni.

“die.” kuni returns the favor.

yanfei was far too busy looking at a certain pigtailed girl in the dancefloor to even notice that it’s her turn. “time’s up, fei. drink up.”

“shit, sorry.” yanfei drank her shot right after.

“kuni, it's your turn.”

“eight, mate.” kunikuzushi says. “pick a drinking buddy.” he already knows who he's gonna pick. “you.” heizou.

“game.” heizou smirked.

the “mates” chugged down another shot of tequila and had a short staring contest. heizou was the first one to look away, leaving kunikuzushi smirking in victory. kuni looks in your direction, only to find you already staring at him.

when it was heizou’s turn, he seemed delighted with the card he got. “queen, question master," he says. “are you single by any chance?” he points at kazuha.

“huh?”

“i’m asking you if you're single.”

“why? aren't you and (name)...” kazuha was confused. very confused.

“what? are you serious? i’m hitting on you for fuck's sake!”

“well, i am. can i have your number by any chance?”

kunikuzushi was left fucking dumbfounded by that. what did this mean? he was apparently jealous over nothing. does this mean he has a chance now?

“my turn," you say. kuni’s eyes shifted towards you immediately. “queen as well, question master.”

“kuni.” a few ‘oohs’ could be heard. “who was the girl you picked up back then at the bus stop near uni?”

“huh?” he didn't process that one immediately.

“wait, what?”

“you heard me, kuni. answer the question.”

kuni took a bit of his time to think about what you were referring to, and now he finally remembers, “that was my cousin.”

“what the fuck? so it wasn't another girl? what about the one you talked about earlier?”

“i don't even know who that was. she said she liked me, but whatever. there was never another girl, but maybe for you there was another guy.” kunikuzushi whispers the last sentence, but you still hear him.

“excuse me? the fuck do you mean another guy when the guy you thought i was with is literally flirting with your best friend? did you even realize they left the table already?” you defended yourself.

kuni raises an eyebrow at you. “but he kept taking your shots?”

“oh, i was just messing with you. you look funny when you're mad, like a pissed off cat," heizou says, kuni curses at him in return.

and kuni drank another shot, now cursing at himself for how stupid he was. you also drank out of frustration over what had just happened.

soon after, you all decided it would be best to go home when lyney finally got himself drunk after hosting the two games earlier. kuni pulls you away from the crowd in an attempt to leave the bar first. after bribing the bouncer, you two stood near the entrance.

“i can't drive. so kazuha is going to take you home. they'll be out in a bit," he says. the others started going out one by one, but kunikuzushi held you by the shoulders before you could leave. “listen to me.”

“by the time you wake up tomorrow, tell me that you love me. tell me that you're finally willing to let me love you the way that you deserve to be loved. tell me you want me.” his face was dangerously getting closer to yours.

“i’ve said this too many times to count, but i love you. i’ll never get tired of saying it because it's true. i love you, (name). always have, and always will. forever and always.”

“kuni, i’m honestly drunk right now, and i don't know shit, but i do know that i love you too.”

“there you go.” he boops your nose. “see you.”

“kiss me before i go?”

“hmm, maybe when you show me that you love me as much as i love you, then sure," he says, starting to walk away from you.

“ah, fuck it.” he turns around and walks back fast.

his lips brushed over yours softly. the kiss was gentle and slow, enough for him to relish the moment and enough for you to taste the alcohol from his lips.

it felt right—perfect, even.

when you got into the car, kuni decided to stay out a bit more late.

and both of you could not wait for tomorrow to come.

extra notes.

i believe this is my cue to not update for the rest of the month /j

i told u all it gets better

taglist (open): @yinyinggie @blue-b3rries @ryuryuryuyurboat @your-local-reblogging-kazoo @lilikags @haliyamori @diorlumx @mamafly @zuunotsane @iloveosamuu @featuredtofu @kana-de @xiaoderrrr @f1orent1ne @alhaitie @yelleloww @brain-r0tt @jamieexistss @danfelions @e0nssadrift @lovemari @kunikissr @chluuvr @lazy-sanns @lxkeeeee @swivy123 @sketcheeee @quacking-simp @tiredslepz @vxcmx @kichiy0shi @yingofthemoon @feiherp @sicut-sol @mayuumine @xiaosoneandonly @xtobefreex @bananasquash @im-the-ruler-here @hiraethhv @yumiaur @oughhhhmamamia @beriiov @cindywasneverhere @klanxii @fangygf @draclula @aromaticism @shotosjupiter @lyzisbitchingagain @lovelykrystal @riraaya @aether-darling @kochothehoe [1/2]

#( smau — how you get the girl ! )#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #genshin imagines #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche smau #kunikuzushi x reader #kunikuzushi #x reader

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vitaminseetarot · 9 months

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PAC Pick a Song - What About You Currently Shines Brightest?

Sup y'all, I'm back in time for the start of Leo season with another pick a card reading! The full moon is coming right up and I will likely do a reading for that as well very shortly, but I already had this done the other day and wanted to get it finally posted after much delay!

Below here are three cards to choose from belonging to the now-obsolete board game DropMix. It was a game connected to an app now unfortunately no longer in service, but it allowed the game to play by having chips in the cards activate a code that would send to a phone app to tally points as well as play music. You could pile the different cards together on a jockey board based on color and basically create your own remixes. You could play or make freestyle music. My basic pack has as many cards as the minor arcana + 4, so I thought these would be fun to bring out and work with for the partygoing Leo energy that's budding this late summer.

1, 2, 3

Pile 1. The Weeknd - Can't Feel My Face

Cards: Baroness (Fire, Leo); "I am in touch with my purpose and passion in life"; 7 of Swords, XIX Sun, XVIII Moon

(Okay just a quick note I just gotta let u know that I eventually plan to paint over the Sun card for my only RWS-esque deck because the smiley face creeps me out lol so I put a tiny candle over its haunting face. The Sun is supposed to be a positive card dangit!)

Anyway back to your reading! Right off the bat I feel like you're gonna be shining bright this season no matter how you personally feel about summer, get in the mood and live it up! Light that bonfire. Jump in the pile of autumn leaves. Tap into your senses in the most innocent and playful way. I feel like you shine brightly when you get excited about literally anything in your life, it could be a new brand of coffee or new pair of jeans or something but people like how you react to things. Reminds me of Youtubers who have these funny but authentic personalities as they review random products or whatever.

I feel like you can get so in love with something that you kinda, as the song suggests, "go numb" and let everything else fizzle away from your focus. But the thing to remember is that all those other things are still there even if they don't light you up. It's all about learning to find the sweet spot between really enjoying the moment and being in flow with the best of things while also attending to the gritty details. It doesn't mean you should "go numb" in the other direction by only focusing on practical things. When I see Sun and Moon in the same three card reading I am reminded of Temperance because you're trying to balance two different energies together that are ultimately meant to work together. Manifestation+work, joy+catharsis, reason+instinct, yeah? It's a lot to seesaw back and forth every day but 7 of swords tells me that you find ingenious ways to pull it off. Don't let the shyness snuff the light out, and don't let the egoic sense of duty override your needs.

If you feel like sometimes you have to sneak away to find time to enjoy what makes you shine from the inside, I'm getting guidance for the collective to simply learn how to share a little bit of what you're doing while balancing it with the part of you that wants to protect your creative ideas and work on them. Again, there's a message here about balance. You don't have to spill everything about your life to the first person who asks, but at the same time there will be people who benefit from your fiery energy. Your interests and talents deserve to take up some space, pile 1. I think this pile just shines in general even if you're not always aware of it, even if it's incredibly subtle. It's in the little things.

⊱ ──── {.⋅ ♫ ⋅.} ─── ⊰⊱ ──── {.⋅ ♫ ⋅.} ─── ⊰⊱ ──── {.⋅ ♫ ⋅.} ─── ⊰

Pile 2. Evanescence - Bring Me to Life

Shield (Fire, Sagittarius); "I attract relationship in harmony with my authentic self"; 5 of Cups, 10 of Pentacles, 9 of Pentacles

This pile could be going through some awakening period right now. I know, I know, it may sound cliché with "wake me up inside" as the lyrics, but it occurred to me that the Shield in your card is like this old energy that has been barricading you from material experiences. Like this is a pile who's really already been in the thick of the brambles and is wanting to come out. The Sagittarius arrow sign is in my mind like a flare set off from deep in the woods as if to say, "hey! I'm over here, come find me!" It's being let off in the sky in the hopes of rekindling some sort of lost connection to something, could be a person or to a certain goal. You currently shine brightest when it comes to relating to others, and seeking out positive relationships.

It could be that you've gone through some disrupting experiences that have encouraged you to wall off to self heal. This may have taken a long period of time to work through. I feel that you're moving into a part of the thicket where more light is pouring in from the outside, that you're near the end of a long isolating tunnel. You're entering a phase of your life where you're ready to have connections that feel more solid and real, rather than fairweather friendships. You're looking for sustainability, for people to have some sense of loyalty with. People with whom you can truly enjoy the abundance of life. The main issue is that grief and isolation can becomes habits that we may need to temper with in order to allow the new. Forgive yourself when you still feel the need to retreat even as you begin to stand out more. Depending on how long it's been, it can be quite an adjustment.

Maybe abundance is coming a little slow here, as the green color here is blocky. But it's rich like emerald, so once it's found, things will transform in your life radically. It's saying that even if you identify as an introvert, there is still "treasure" to be found in building new relationships. It could be totally virtual. But you shine from making the most out of the opportunities that your current or as of yet undiscovered relationships have to offer. You have a lot to offer others as well. I do get a strong teaching role from this pile. Maybe you've thought about going into teaching. I think your students would see you as sensitive and resourceful.

⊱ ──── {.⋅ ♫ ⋅.} ─── ⊰⊱ ──── {.⋅ ♫ ⋅.} ─── ⊰⊱ ──── {.⋅ ♫ ⋅.} ─── ⊰

Pile 3. LMFAO - Sexy and I Know It

Marigold (Water, Scorpio); "I am wise and wonderful"; 6 of Pentacles, 2 of Pentacles, 10 of Cups

Your reading is so clear to me, you shine brightest when you are fully present in the moment and loving what you're doing and who you're being. I don't think this pile likes to waste any time lol. I think you've had some hard experiences that have taught you how to value the time and resources you have, especially when you give this energy way generously. And I get the sense that you're learning how to manage both the philanthropy side of things with the personal fulfillment side. You're learning that one does not necessarily require the sacrifice of another. Compromise, maybe, but not at a net loss. You can give without overextending the hand, you can seek out bliss in life without taking it away from others.

This is not a common trait to shine in, pile 3. It's a mature place to shine, but not always easy to develop. It's required a lot from you right from the beginning. There were probably some things you had to let go to make it all work before. But it doesn't always have to be that way. Your ability to rise above the situation, brush the dust off your coat and move forward is what makes you shine. Although I'll say this: even if it looks like all is going well, you're still allowed to feel whatever grief is stored up inside you. It's part of moving past it in order to make the most out of the present.

Some of these experiences may have had something to do with your sense of confidence, your body image, how your present yourself to others, self-expression, and I'm also getting pretty privilege as a topic. Self worth over buying the right kind of things too… I think you're letting your hair down finally. You're letting some outdated ideas about your image go, you shine when you declare yourself to be beautiful and sexy "just because". Why does there need to be a reason? Some people might tell you that you, in particular, aren't "allowed" to feel good in your own skin and clothes. Some may get threatened by your confidence. But it's because that's where you shine and it's up to them to adjust their vision. Tell em to make an optometrist appointment if they can't handle seeing your presentation.

⊱ ──── {.⋅ ♫ ⋅.} ─── ⊰⊱ ──── {.⋅ ♫ ⋅.} ─── ⊰⊱ ──── {.⋅ ♫ ⋅.} ─── ⊰

This reading has not been evaluated by the FDA to diagnose, prevent, treat, or cure any disease or infection. Please ask your physician before going online.

2023, Vitaminsee Tarot ™

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livinginshambles · 9 months

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Preview: How much are we worth? | James Potter

Pairing: James Potter x Fem!Reader

Summary: It was just a bet trope - you're not sure what hurt more, being a bet, or how little they bet on you.

Masterlist

_____________

In hindsight, you should've known.

"Have you maybe considered giving up on her?" Remus' question caught James off guard when he returned to the marauders at the Gryffindor table after another failed attempt and rejection by Lily.

"Not until she's given me a chance at least," James responded, eyes trained on Lily's retreating figure. "Besides, this chasing game is sort of our thing now."

The marauders nodded sceptically.

Sirius snorted out loud. "Dynamic, my ass, yeah." He threw a piece of bread across the table in James' direction.

James pulled a face at Sirius. "Oh please, I can get girls. It's just that contrary to you, I actually show commitment to only one," he huffed.

Sirius shrugged. "You say that, but you've never even had a girlfriend. Been pining over Evans since first year. Besides, commitment or being stuck," he weighed his hands in the air. "Same same."

James rolled his eyes and got up. When he turned around, he crashed into someone who had been standing behind him, tripping her, and he sent her crashing into the Ravenclaw table behind him.

The Ravenclaw sitting at that table ducked out of the way. She stuck her hands out to brace herself and loudly hissed when her hand ended up in someone's scalding soup.

"Godric, I am so sorry," James scrambled to offer her a napkin. She snatched it out of his hands and dried her hands. James saw that they were scorching red, and more apologies stumbled out of his mouth.

"Let me help you get to madam Pomfrey," he offered, concern lacing his tone. He reached his hand out to her, and she jerked away.

"Fuck off Potter, I'd rather take a bloody bath in boiling water than go anywhere with you." She spat, and left, hand pressed against her chest, covered by the napkin.

The commotion had everyone turn their heads at him, and despite usually being a fan of being at the centre of attention, he embarrassedly sat down again.

"Guess really no girl wants to go anywhere with you, Prongs," Sirius snickered. James offered him a sour look.

"Right, you wanna bet?"

"The usual?"

"The usual."

They sealed the deal with a nod. Peter and Remus shared a look, but they knew that was no use trying to tell them to stop it already. Remus thought back to the scowl on the girl's face and prayed that she would stay headstrong and reject James.

After all, Sirius and James were from wealthy families, so money has never actually played a role during these bets. It's just the principle of it that counts and is the reason why they only ever bet one galleon. It meant someone would get hurt.

Full fic

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stormikins · 1 month

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Mass Effect: Failed Opportunities.

An informal rant essay about my opinions and thoughts (and ideas/suggestions) about the choices made in Mass Effect Three. This is all because of this one post, and my friend (@xoshepard) giving me a compliment about my Shepard came back wrong headcanons. So. I’m fueled by validation and rage. A summary of the mentioned post is anonymous regrets that BioWare didn't explore the implications of Shepard dying and coming back and the fact that Liara helped Cerberus in doing so.

Disclaimer: I am a hater in this. I am. No doubt about it. If you like the story and think it’s great and nothing is wrong with it— then I am so happy for you. Truly. I wish I was the same. So, this post might not be for you. Also, this is a rant, and I try to keep it sensible so apologies if it’s not.

Word Count: 3k

TLDR: BioWare flip flops between decisions and choices and never truly settles, disregards choices already made, and leaves players wanting (AND THEIR MOTHERS!) while eviscerating character personalities. Consistency is not in BioWare’s vocabulary. Or dictionary. Or thesaurus.

One of the things that I dislike the most about BioWare's choices regarding this matter is that Shepard starts having these crisis thoughts/questions about if their body is theirs or not, etc. not only in the third game, but at the end of it. The player is literally doing the mission that marks the point of no return in the end, the last of two until the game is finished, and now Shepard is voicing these thoughts. Roughly sixty-ish hours since the beginning of me2 if the player is a completionist. (not to mention how much more time in between playing bc people have lives but I digress). This isn’t a plot hole, it’s a speed bump the player trips over and then the game expects us to get back and get going while asking why our nose is bleeding. Fuck you BioWare.

Now, one could construe this into being part of Shepard's character; squashing down all these conflicting and worrying thoughts to focus on their mission, bc they are a soldier. They literally don't have time for this. But now they're physically confronted with their reconstruction post-awakening haze and/or denial about it all bc Cerberus could be them lying to Shepard bc of manipulation. All right. If that is supposed to be the implication, Shepard putting their mental focus on their mission, why didn't Shepard have this crisis when they were in lock-up for six months, aka where they literally only have time to think?

James having a throwaway comment to Shepard, or another crew member (bc they talk to each other now between missions!), about how he's worried about them, about how Shepard had a freak out some point in lock down, the level of 'freak out' does not need to be expanded upon. Hell, James can just say maybe they passed the time asking each other philosophical questions, maybe about consent and choices and bodily autonomy. It could help lend more weight with Shepard posing these questions during the Cerberus HQ bc these thoughts are still plaguing Shepard. Shepard dies-again-without getting closure-again. This would fall into the cycle theme that the games have.

But, like always, Bioware fails to capitalize on opportunity.

Now. The Citadel DLC. sighs Shepard's repeated variations of "don't want to talk about it" it being the clone and everything else that's happening in the DLC, lends more to the theory of Shepard's supposed to be repressing this all. But the counter point about Shepard having their crisis in lock-up still stands.

What could have been interesting is if Shepard had these identity issues in 2 and potentially in three and given that the Citadel DLC ends with the clone always dying canonically, it can be a pivotal moment for Shepard to realize that they are who they are, different than their me1 counterpart or not (it also would be cool if characters mentioned if the player was choosing choices that an imported me1 Shepard normally would not have) and to have a clarity moment that they are Shepard. This clone and these logs could have provided a clean tying of loose ends of Shepard having identity issues instead of the teammates saying two lines about how they know that Shepard is Shepard and Shepard simply... moving on bc you do all this in the middle of a base attack. The player's mind is already set on defeating Cerberus (finally) and getting revenge, on being so close to the end of the game! It's also OPTIONAL. Yes, the player is automatically entered into a dialogue wheel but the choice to leave without seeing what's on the logs is immediately available.

Another thing the previous post went into was Liara's involvement. Her part in Shepard's reconstruction is not explored in the game. The player never learns about how Liara helped, just that she did and that she lost Feron because of it all to the Shadow Broker. I will not go into the comics, bc 1. I have not read them and 2. If developers must depend on supplemental media to explain key plot points, they are in fact doing it wrong (this is a conversation for another time).

I would not be as bitter about Liara's involvement if the game treated it better. The player has to complete two quests to unlock the dialogue of Liara telling Shepard that she gave their body to Cerberus. Shepard’s renegade dialogue to Liara apologizing about giving their body over is as follows, “all this time, it wasn’t your sources. You knowingly gave me over to Cerberus. You did this to me!” SHEPARD DOESN’T SAY ANYTHING ELSE. JUST SITS BACK DOWN AND THE RENEGADE RESPONSE TO HER SECOND APOLOGY IS TO SAY, “Let me know if you need any more help,” AND YOU LEAVE. WHY IS THIS THE ONLY TIME SHEPARD ACKNOWLEDGES THIS. wow. AND WHY IS IT LIKE THIS? ITS OPTIONAL. I— Again, this could tie into Shepard bottling up feelings and acknowledging them in Me3, could show Shepard as an actual person is the game lets us choose to be mean or turn her off but alas, the player cannot because the game likes ruining Shepard’s character (which I’ll save that for later).

One could say that Liara would go to any lengths for those she loves, whether the player romanced her or not, but in the first game, we have no indication that she is willing to go this far. I have a belief that nothing is 'out of character' if the circumstances are right. Now, these circumstances are right: two important figures in Liara's life die (Shepard and her mother), Liara's only connection to her theories on the extinction of the reapers dies as well, the threat of the Reapers, and all the traumatic experiences she had during me1 and then the destruction of the Normandy all collide together to make it realistic that Liara wouldn't be able to let Shepard go. There is one thing, though, is that this is all boiled down into “I couldn't let you go” and the game doesn't show it. Doesn’t show Liara's descent down into this rabbit hole, doesn't show the switch getting flipped of her turning much more ruthless compared to her me1 characterization.

She does show ruthlessness in some regards in me1, willing to kill her mother no matter their relationship. But out of all the SR1 cast, she is one of the most paragon characters. The game does not show the shift into Liara's characterization. No commentary from Me1 companions about how Liara suddenly shut them out, or from Feron talking about the things Liara was willing to do to get Shepard. No comments from Miranda and Jacob who I do know were part of the retrieval mission about how Liara acted. Liara is just immediately introduced with quoting her mother’s threats. WHICH IS SO INTERESTING! Again AGAIN the game goes nowhere with this. We get optional dialogue from Aethyta about the Matriarch’s being concerned about her but that is optional, and only if the player talked to her in Me2 does she show up in Me3 and deliver said dialogue. Liara herself never confronts this. Even when SHE TALKS ABOUT HER MOTHER. LISTEN— LIARA COULD HAVE TURNED INTO A SCIENTIST THAT WOULD DO ANYTHING FOR HER RESEARCH. TO PROVE HERSELF RIGHT BECAUSE SHE IS, SHE KNOWS IT AND SHE’LL DO ANYTHING LIKE BRINGING SOMEONE’S DEAD BODY TO A TERRORIST ORGANIZATION TO RESSURECT AND YET—

Garrus, on the other hand, gets his new characterization explained. In me1 he already tends to be reckless, ruthless, and selfish. It is no surprise that when Shepard died and the Council buried the truth, he went vigilante. The game shows his new bleak outlook on life bc we find him fighting for his life in a base full of dead bodies and then he explains he got betrayed. We deal with his character arc. We do not deal with Liara’s.

One could argue that could go and show how Shepard wakes up two years in the future and everything is different and confusing. Which I will agree with. If it was purposeful. And I don’t think it is, personally.

She doesn’t stay this new ruthless way. I am not saying she can’t be more than one-dimensional; I like that she can be soft with Shepard and the other companions. But all of a sudden, she, the character whose introduction in Me3 is her popping a singularity and gunning down two Cerberus goons with a cold look on her face, “can’t be that callous” about not focusing on the death numbers in the middle of a war zone because “that’s my home down there”. A home she rarely talks about, and she’s also been in numerous war zones just as bad as this. Liara, who spent more time in digs or collecting intel than with people, feels a sudden connection with her people.

I would like Liara a lot more if they didn’t eviscerate her character, thank you. Don’t take this the wrong way, I love her, I think she’s great. She just has the potential to be so much more.

Like—

Mass Effect for some reason, tries not to be an RPG. They don't give the players a proper choice/dialogue to allow Shepard to be mad at Liara about what she did. Or to stay mad. (I am not going to get into the debate of whether being mad at Liara should be a renegade option or paragon). It would make sense for someone to get pissed at the person who gave their dead body over to scientists to reanimate, but also terrorist scientists. The same terrorists that Shepard potentially fought in Me1 and also potentially discovered were behind the whole sale slaughter of their entire platoon and the torture of the only other survivor of the incident.

(I can’t remember if Shepard ever mentions Akuze to Cerberus. Funny, isn’t it. How the games like to take away Shepard’s agency but not in any compelling way.)

Besides, simply not choosing paragon options, it’s never mentioned again what Liara did to Shepard, which makes sense if Shepard accepted Liara’s apology. But what if Shepard, and the player, doesn’t? Liara’s forced on the player in Me3 as Shepard potential confidant, showing up repeatedly to Shepard’s cabin to move the plot forward, give Shepard missions/updates. Yes, the player can refuse to get personal with her which I do appreciate it. Like I said, Liara’s actions never get brought up in any meaningful way to help Shepard on a character journey.

Another failed opportunity about Shepard’s character is when the games don’t get into what Shepard is like post-resurrection. The game seems to be in the middle ground of making Shepard different but not still human, but in actuality, they can in the words of Hannah Montana, have “the best of both worlds”.

Me2 shows how Shepard is different now. “I’ve noticed a few upgrades,” Shepard states when talking to the Illusive Man on Minute Man station. Shepard can have multiple hard-hitting drinks in a row along with Ryncol in Dark Star, Zakera Ward. A poison tailored for humans served by a batarian bartender in the lower segment of Afterlife only knocks Shepard out, not killing them like it does to every human before.

That is how far the game will go in showing how different Shepard is, not counting renegade scarring. Which is a waste.

Shepard is The Protagonist. The main character. They have done the actual impossible. They are the Sole Survivor, the Hero of Elysium, the Butcher of Torfan, Savior of the Citadel, repeller of Geth, Collector, and Reaper armies and a host of other incredible achievements. They are a prophet, the damned, a modern-day Cassandra. The tip of the Spear, the Diplomat, the Soldier. Coats in the FOB on Earth says that it means something to the soldiers to see Shepard with them. They are “a tool, an agent with a singular purpose,” TIM calls them. (And a Karen ‘accuse her of classism’).

And yet, when Shepard gets revived—the most impossible of all things (and yes, it’s not like they had anything to do with it, it was Miranda and her team, but the Lazarus project only had one subject)—they are not made further into something larger than life. Something Other. Something that sets them out from the others. Because they’re Commander Fucking Shepard.

They literally have a vision of a dying race in their head that propels them to stop the Reapers. Me1 does a great job of playing with it. The player sees it once in Me2 and Me3, a side mission (Blue Suns: Archaeological Site) and after retrieving Javik, respectively.

Mass effect is all about cycles. The Reaper’s, Saren/Tim parallels, etc. What could have been interesting was instead of the reoccurring dream we have about a child that gets his emotional impact tarnished because of said dream and the star-child, the game does a mesh of the vision, prothean civilization in ruin, and the ruins we see of current civilizations from the missions Shepard goes on. Keep the oily shadows that whisper quotes from our dead teammates, but also have their voices coming from long dead Protheans pleading with Shepard to stop the Reapers, to save them.

Shepard can’t get any escape from the war, from the Reapers in their sleeping nor waking hours.

The game not making Shepard Other and going in the opposite direction—that despite all these upgrades Shepard is still human—would be fine if it was done better. A good stereotype of “I’m only human” is when a character fails. Shepard fails in Me3 most prominently on Thessia. I’m all for having characters fail but only when it’s done not so obnoxiously.

It’s a terrible fight. It is. Kai Leng hides behind a gunship that Shepard took down at least three separate times in Me2. Two of these instances are non-optional (Garrus and Samara’s recruitment, with Kasumi’s loyalty quest being the third). So, Shepard—Commander Shepard who literally destroyed a proto-Reaper—can’t destroy a gunship. It’s insulting how they ruin Shepard’s character in three.

In the end cutscene, Shepard clearly hears and registers that Kai Leng orders the gunship to fire on the supports of the structure and… runs further into the building. One could argue Shepard was trying to get the Prothean VI for the catalyst, but Liara is shown scanning it with her Omni-tool. What did she do, if not copy it? Why would she not? Why wouldn’t Shepard? They’re in the middle of a war zone, with enemies that were just right outside the door. Why stop for a chat here and now? (I know why, the plot demands it and lore dumping— lore that contradicts the lore dump by Vigil in Me1 so I’m even more inclined to not like these proceedings).

Kai Leng is Shepard’s nemesis in Me3 (and I’m forever mad that he is) and he’s supposed to be badass and edgy and able to go toe-to-toe with Shepard. Yet the game shows he can’t. He can’t reach his target because a terminally ill drell stopped him, or he didn’t notice Bau being cloaked in front of the Salarian councilor. (I can also go into how stupid this scene is with BOTH Thane and Bau).

He gets one over Shepard with the C-SEC sky car chase but that doubles back to BioWare ruining Shepard’s character by making them an idiot. Why not hit the brakes? Why not do a couple barrel rolls? Why fire through what should be bullet proof glass because it’s a C-SEC sky car?

Kai Leng can’t go toe-to-toe with Shepard unless Shepard gets dumbed down into an idiot and isn’t someone who reached not only Commander rank but also became the first human spectre. HELLO!?

So, Shepard failing and still being human and fallible doesn’t hit because they execute it poorly via Kai Leng and his stupid plot armor.

Who would be Shepard’s nemesis if not Kai Leng? HARBINGER. YOU KNOW THE REAPER THAT TAUNTED SHEPARD IN ME2? THE VERY FIRST REAPER MADE? THE REAPER THAT WE ONLY SEE—NOT TALK TO—SEE IN THE LAST HOUR OF THE GAME? THAT GUY. (matter of fact, throw in some of Harby’s arrogant lines about Shepard not being able to stop the Reapers in the alternative dream.) Harbinger should have possessed troops like he did in Me2 in the major Reaper battles. Earth. Menae. Thessia. He should have showed up somewhere, boasting about how they’re darkening the sky of every world. YES THAT’S A SOVEREIGN CALL BACK CYCLES! SHEPARD’S VISION IS COMING TRUE RIGHT BEFORE THEIR EYES AND HE’S NOT BRAGGING!? I THINK THE FUCK NOT! If you’re gonna make the Reapers so obsessed with Shepard as shown in Me2 with Harbinger’s comments and making a human looking Reaper, KEEP THE OBSESSION FOR THE LOVE OF GOD! I hate that the Reapers are obsessed with Shepard, Reapers who are above organics, have no weaknesses etc. and the entirety of Sovereign’s brilliant Virmire speech, because it’s not CARRIED OVER!

The enemies should have primarily been the Reapers from the start, and Cerberus the splinter group trying to sabotage the player. Make them smaller. Keep them kidnapping people for troops and biotic tests and lying about Sanctuary being a sanctuary and not run by Cerberus. Continuously have them send assassins—plural! Phantoms and nemesis— after Shepard with Kai Leng at the head of them. Even better if a strike group of baddies show up randomly during missions and watch out! Now Shepard has to deal with them as they fight the Reapers—in the same mission— because Cerberus wants to stop Shepard from killing the Reapers so they could control them and secure human dominance. Kai Leng is kept away from his target because they’re also fighting Shepard where Reapers are. Have them locked into statements until the environment falls apart literally forces them apart. Have them actually be equal adversaries.

Cerberus is introduced to be a mere group Shepard took out in Me1. They’re not all gone in Me2 surprise! Okay that’s fine and yet they not only sunk so many resources into Shepard and had so many cells gone rogue but they’re able to stage a coup on the Citadel! Pardon?? “But our resources are not unlimited, rebuilding you was a significant investment. And a significant risk,” Miranda tells Shepard in Me2. Cerberus kidnapping people on Benning would make sense if they’re scrambling for troops other than the relying on Sanctuary. (EVEN IN ME3 THERE ARE ‘ROGUE FACTIONS’— still a common occurrence for them. It’s never explained if Cerberus is lying about Benning or not). If they have these many rogue cells, again, how can they manage all they do in Me3? Especially if scientists are leaving Cerberus as well, aka the Ex-Cerberus Scientist mission Traynor gives you.

Yet, the player talks more to the Illusive Man than Harbinger in Me3, the leader of the Reapers, and we confront TIM at the end of the game, the most pivotal moment. The moment which people have sunk countless hours into, and we get a power hungry and indoctrinated TIM to… talk into shooting himself or firing a single bullet at him. There is no physical fight between the two. The conversation is similar to Saren’s and again, cycles are a theme, so why can’t we get a Reaper!TIM fight? The player, and Shepard, deserve the choice to fuck him up. This is a military game after all, they’re supposed to be encouraging our aggressive nature.

They ruin TIM but also Shepard.

Shepard never grows and changes like the characters around them, and their resurrection could have—should have—played a part in that. If they’re supposed to remain the same, be a tool for the narrative, make them it. Lean into that. The player chooses options. What would be an interesting mechanic is to make it a struggle for a certain background to get a certain morality. Have Shepard be stating doubts about who they are and if the player is contradicting a stereotypical background (Butcher trying to be paragon, a Hero trying to be renegade), they meet the camera—the players eyes—as they explain their inner turmoil. Make Shepard feel like the tool they are, like they’re not in control of their actions. A renegade overcoming it all and being a paragon hero, or a fall from grace paragon that brings the galaxy down with them. A renegade trapped in a cycle of violence (CYCLE) who can only see the world down the barrel of a gun, or a paragon who continuously chooses kindness. MAKE IT MEAN SOMETHING!

I think I’m done. So.

In conclusion, my love and passion for this game transitions into rage because of seeing possibilities squashed like a bug under a boot. To borrow Star War’s phrase: Mass Effect could be so good if it was good.

#mass effect #yes im putting this in the tag idc #anyways this was fun #im finally dictating my thoughts on ME3 cause it fucking sucks #ive played this game the most out of the entire trilogy and any other game i own

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gartenofbanny · 10 months

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Alright, for some reason I actually typed an indepth review of Unhappy Campers because I didn't really have much else to do, so with that out of the way let's get started with the positives!

The Positives

Alright so now that the positives are out of the way let's get started with the negatives!

The Negatives

The Characters

The characters in this episode were all just infuriatingly insufferable to watch throughout the episode or were just painfully underwhelming. I'm gonna start off with the character I disliked the most in this episode and that's Moxxie.

Moxxie, as I said in a previous post, was honestly stupid, extremely sensitive, and legit wanted the attention of everyone in this episode. They had the clear opportunity to just solve the case and get it done, but Moxxie wants to roleplay with literal kids, wants to be well known, and use his solo mission as some detective game for some fucking reason. He gets mad at Millie just because she's getting the attention he wants where tf did this toxic behavior come from exactly? Moxxie is a hypocrite in this episode and Millie was 100% in the right to tell him off.

Oh yeah and I almost forgot, they made Moxxie physically weak again. Which I gotta ask why was he struggling against Barbie Wire and how tf did he not kill the human when he was fully capable of fighting and killing demons twice his size just an episode ago? Doesn't seem consistent now, does it?

Not to mention the writers did another "Moxxie gains confidence arc" AGAIN. Millie tells him to "play to his strengths" literally giving him the same damn advice she gave him IN HARVEST MOON it's just worded differently.

And for some reason, Moxxie is like a Blitzo dickrider in this episode. Why is Moxxie ecstatic when Blitzo gave him the solo mission? Why was Moxxie down in the dumps when Blitzo called him a disappointment? Moxxie in Season 1 wouldn't take that shit, what the hell happened? They made one of the more sufferable characters in Helluva Boss so insufferable.

Now onto Millie and this is going to be short. I am glad that Millie's getting a lot of screentime but this entire revelation where she likes being loved and respected because of her physical capabilities comes completely out of nowhere.

Millie has always been respected for her physical strength especially by Moxxie, but she wasn't this fixated on it. Where did this come from? Why is it that she's obsessed with fame over her physical capabilities? And what's even worse is that her fans don't even like Millie for her personality that much they mainly like her because of her looks and strength. It had no build up and Millie wasn't even affected in the slightest when all of that reputation she garnered was instantly flushed down the drain. It was just meaningless. Now that I think about it, I would appreciate the character arc more if it had some form of build up and Millie would actually reflect and talk about it later on. But I know she probably won't.

Now onto fucking Barbie Wire. Her screentime in this episode is 3 minutes and 16 seconds and the entire episode is 20 minutes and 18 seconds long excluding the credits. So there was more screentime of Blitzo and everyone he confronts MENTIONING her than there was actually showcasing her.

Barbie Wire is literally Blitzo but female design wise and disguise wise..she just looks like a human version of Velvette. Tell me you can't design characters without telling me you can't design characters, this is the second new character in a row that shares a physical similarity to a previously made character. I'd get why she looks exactly likes Blitzo but having her human form be extremely similar to Velvette's actual design is lazy as hell.

Barbie Wire is also a groomer too. I know that the counselor is technically an adult, but Barbie Wire is still using her body to manipulate him and adults are vulnerable to grooming. Plus it's still weird to me due to the age gape, Barbie Wire is in her 30s and the counselor is 18 to 19 years old. I bet you're all wondering how I got this info too, well Viv made a tweet about it. It wasn't stated in the episode that the person Moxxie and Millie were trying to kill was barely an adult leading many people to believe that Barbie Wire was a...cupcake eater.

Barbie Wire is revealed to hate Blitzo, do we know why? No, we do not and for some reason the writers decided to keep this part ambiguous. When we first saw Verosika Mayday at least it was revealed that she had a reason to hate Blitzo but we don't get that with Barbie Wire for some fucking reason. Overall Barbie Wire is underwhelming but also infuriating, I honestly thought that I could manage to like her going in this episode but it just couldn't work no matter how hard I tried. So we have to wait another couple of months or at most years for Barbie Wire to show up again so then we'd fully know why she hates Blitzo from her perspective.

Blitzo was honestly the least sufferable character mainly because he didn't have much screentime, I was honestly so happy. But then I realized why is it that Blitzo now wants to see Barbie Wire? The nurse over at the rehab told Blitzo that Barbie Wire checked out of rehab months ago, so why is it that Blitzo didn't visit her prior? He apparently wants to make amends and catch up to her but why? We're not given an explanation or even a reason. He wants to help Barbie Wire, why? How come he doesn't visit Fizzarolli or anyone else he had a past relationship with?

Blitzo complains to Barbie Wire for not keeping contact with him even though he had opportunities to actually talk to her. Then after he's confronted by Barbie Wire he immediately goes back to being regular old Blitzo. At least in Ozzie's Blitzo actually had some form of guilt, in this episode we don't see how Barbie Wire yelling at Blitzo even affected him all we see him do is just make the sad puppy eyes, that's it. What was the point in all of that if you're just gonna go back to the status quo? 💀

Anyway, somehow they managed to make all the characters bad or underwhelming. Idk how they achieved both with Barbie Wire, they need a medal for that one.

This episode is a waste of time

This episode in all honesty is a literal waste of time. Nothing has changed aside from the fact that Barbie Wire is out of rehab. You can skip this episode and miss nothing because this episode immediately goes back into the status quo regardless of all of the shit that happened. The only important thing in this episode is that Barbie Wire got out of rehab, but even then we'd know that information from a throwaway line. And what's even more frustrating is that this episode isn't a filler episode, it's a chronological episode with nothing that's relevant to the story.