"fuck It We Ball" Is For Stress About The Future "it Is What It Is" Is For Stress About The Past And

The Heavenly Ivory Touch of Your Hand

summary | The news of your husband's infidelity had driven you into Aegon's arms, your growing companionship tethering on the edge of decency.

pairing | aegon ii targaryen x aemond's wife!reader

tags | 18+, MINORS DNI! unprotected sex, infidelity, slight angst, injury, post rook’s rest aegon

wordcount | 3.3k

song rec | Heavenly - Grant Lee Phillips (title is a lyric from the song)

note | been in an aegon mode after ep1 of the new season 🫦 idk why i had to include aemond somehow, that man has my brain in a chokehold unfortunately

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated!

(divider by @zaldritzosrose)

What soft hands you had. Your touch was gentle, caring…  loving. They were a welcome sensation on Aegon’s skin, a sweet reprieve from the aches that only ever grew by the day. He could feel himself sink deeper into the feathered mattress, your touch massaging the knots he bore from the agitated tension his shoulders carried. It was not right to have you like this, but the lines between propriety have long been blurred by chaos.

“It is not your place as my brother’s wife to tend to my wounds,” Aegon mumbled, though he wasn’t one to complain, not when the salve on your fingertips brought salvation to his marred flesh. You hummed, continuing to apply the healing balm diligently.

“Yes, but you had driven away half your staff, the other half you won’t let even a hair’s breadth within your space. Who else is there to do it for you, brother?”

Your words rang true. The pain brought about by the memory of Rook’s Rest left Aegon irritable, brash, growing quick to anger at anyone and anything that displeased him. His staff were frightened to treat their king when he was so, grabbing the first opportunity to leave him be when he demanded. The treachery he had faced at the hands of his own people left him wary of any and all that walked through his home, the pain of losing his heir haunting his every thought. He couldn’t afford another travesty when he had lost so much. His wife had grown hysterical from grief, driven even farther away from his grasp than she already was. His mother was never really here, her heart still chained in his half-sister’s grasp, seeking a false sense of power by riding Cole whenever she could before he marched off. Perhaps Aegon was like her in a way, desperate to make a window in their own prison.

You were just as lonely as he, where he was alone in the numbing pain of his wounds, you were in a different prison— the isolating humiliation of the failure they all called a marriage. The news of Aemond’s infidelity left you broken and riddled with heartache. Where you waited and waited for the beastly sight of Vhagar flying over King’s Landing to signal his return, your husband had taken another to bed. The memory of reading the letter dropped by a raven from Harrenhal was a gray fog, the utter appalment that had overtaken your proper thinking caused you to block its actuality from your mind. The letter had come unsigned, maybe it was a servant who sent it, or Cole, perhaps it was the bastard witch herself, though it mattered little. The truth of the matter could not be denied when Aemond had been gone for nearly three moons now, and the whispers and looks of pity thrown your way could no longer be ignored.

Aegon wasn’t quite sure how you ended up in his midst when it happened. He figured you would lock yourself in your chambers in isolation, just like Helaena did, or wept at the Seven’s feet for guidance, just like his mother did. Instead, you had come to him, with the intention of tending his wounds at first, then came a natural companionship with each other. You had gotten along well, much better than even before the war.

When his joints felt better on brighter days, you would help him out of bed to walk; his cane in one hand, the other holding onto you for dear life. Not anywhere far, just in the halls of the royal apartments, away from curious eyes. You had even helped him bathe a few times, rubbing him clean without so much a look of disgust at the sight of his burnt half. Aemond would have definitely strangled the elder to death if he were ever to know, but the twat was hardly the face of honor and decency at the moment, and the king could care less what he thought. If Aegon was still the man he once was, he would have taken advantage of such mercy for something carnal, but his wounded spirit had never known such kindness. You tended to him in a way so foreign, so selfless, expecting naught in return.

Tonight, something was different. You hadn’t greeted him with that sweet smile of yours, one that Aegon always looked forward to every time you stepped into his chambers. You took your place on the edge of his bed quietly, grabbing the jar of salve and unscrewing its top without so much a word. The king was in a better condition tonight, no poppy milk to mar his mind blurred. There was a crease between your brows, and Aegon had to stop himself from brushing the tension away with his thumb. You were displeased.

“You are troubled,” he spoke up. Your eyes flickered to him under your lashes, before returning to your work on applying the balm on his side. Aegon hissed when you pressed on the wound a bit too harshly, which made you stop and utter an apology. “Sister,” he tried again, grabbing your wrist to stop you. You weren’t looking at him, your gaze trained to his grip on your flesh. He squeezed your wrist underneath his larger palm before asking, “What is it?”

Your eyes stung almost immediately, causing you to look away. You grabbed a cloth from Aegon’s bedside to wipe your hand clean, tugging on your flesh in a matter so harsh that it made your king look at you in concern. You took deep breaths, trying your hardest to swallow the piercing lump in your throat.

“She is with child,” you finally said, eyelashes flattering when your tears threatened to fall. The king scoffed in disbelief, shaking his head in disappointment. You didn’t have to utter who; your good brother-by-law already knew. Aemond used to be beyond such depravity, or so Aegon thought. His heart ached at the pitiful sight of you, with the way you avoided his eyes, scratching the inside of your wrist in an anxious habit. Your nails dug painfully into your flesh, rendering the skin a dark red to distract you from the agonizing swell of your heart. For the second time, Aegon grabbed your wrist to keep you from harming yourself, taking your smaller palm into his.

“I am sorry, sister,” he whispered in sincerity. “A fool he is. He may have lost one eye, but he is equally blind in both to see what he has lost. You are not deserving of such a man.”

You nodded at his words aimlessly, sniffling. Your eyes looked at anywhere but him, furiously blinking away your tears. In the days you had spent together, Aegon had learned you were one to detach yourself from your troubles, adamant to live in ignorance to save yourself the suffering. He used to be the same, but he had learned in the harshest way possible that pain would still find its way to you.

“He told me he loved me,” you chuckled darkly, through the corners of your lips quivered. You bit your lip, tilting your head back in a feeble attempt to push your tears back, before sighing. “He used to say I was the light of his life, that he could never wish to part from me, and he would return. Such flowery words from a liar.”

“My brother could have been a poet if he wasn’t a warrior, though he would be just as cruel with a pen as with a sword.”

You looked to your king with a pained smile, one which he returned, but a sob soon broke out from deep within your chest. Your beautiful face crumpled into sadness, your traitorous tears finally escaping. They left their mark on your cheeks, causing Aegon to wipe them in haste. His heart broke to see you like this, to see you suffering from a pain you did not deserve. You were the kindest being that had ever graced his days. Aegon may not be a devout man, but he liked to believe you were molded by the Mother’s hands, formed from her own essence. You were good, you were pure, everything the Targaryens were not. You never should have fallen into Aemond’s darkness, into their fiery madness.

“Come,” he bided, urging you to lay on the vast space beside him. You settled on the space by his good side, letting him take you into his bare chest. Avoiding his wounded side, you buried your head into the crook of his neck. Hot, salty tears left his skin damp, but Aegon couldn't care less, nor for the implications of the fact that anyone could come in and witness the king holding his brother’s wife in his arms. You were his priority.

“My daughter… she searches for him,” you sobbed, nuzzling closer into Aegon’s chest as he pulled you in tighter. “I don’t know what to tell her. How can I let her hold out hope when I am void of it myself? How do I gain the will to face him if he ever returns?”

Aegon sighed, his lips planting a kiss on your hair before he could stop himself. You smelled of fresh lavender, a scent so enticing and sweet. He couldn’t help peppering another kiss to your head, then another, before leaning his cheek against you.

“You do not have to, princess,” he said, his hand lowering to rub your back comfortingly. The king imagined the pair of you must look like lovers laid up like so, like man and wife. He cursed himself for thinking such thoughts while you wept for another, but his heart could never be silenced. “If you have no wish to be by his side, you will have it so. Your own apartments, your own space away from him. He would be turned away from your door if you command it. I shall see it done.”

“What will everyone else think? My name and reputation have been tainted by this disgrace,” you seethed, pushing yourself to lean on your elbow to look at Aegon. He could feel your breath on his face, could see you in perfect detail like this. Your pretty lashes had clumped from your tears, and a subtle flush had settled across your cheeks.

By the Seven, you were beautiful.

“I shall cut off any tongue that dares to speak against you, I promise this to you,” the king vowed, sealing his oath with a kiss to the inside of your wrist. You merely stared at him, searching for any signs of insincerity. You couldn’t bear another lie, and with Aegon you found none.

“Thank you, my king, thank you,” you expressed, pressing a reverent kiss on his scarred hand. Aegon felt blessed to have been bestowed such a touch on his ugliness, and he could only wish to be granted more.

“You need not thank me, sister,” he responded. With a rush of boldness, he cupped your jaw, a fiery hope stoking in his veins when you leaned into his touch. “I would do anything for you… anything.”

His words made you look at him, eyes clouded in thought. Aegon could practically feel the gears of your mind working, and for a moment, he worried. He must have overstepped his bounds, had put your friendship into jeopardy when he let too much of his affection show. The elder Targaryen opened his lips to speak, to deflect, but you had stunned him when you pressed your lips against his.

You pulled away in an instant to gauge his reaction, tracing the tingling remnants of his plump lips on yours with your fingertips. A look of shock you both mirrored, but before you could apologize, Aegon grabbed your arm, tugging you closer.

“Do it again,” he urged, to which you obliged obediently. He kept his hand on your occiput to keep you close, his tongue splitting your lips to deepen the kiss. Aegon had found bliss, with the way your tongue danced against his, your moan reverberating against his lips when he sucked on your plush, bottom lip. Your leg had slithered halfway across his waist, your calf rubbing his hardening length through his undergarments. The king groaned, squeezing your plump rear through your robe.

The comfort you found in the time you spent together had you only clad in your robe and nightgown during your late-night visits, seeing no harm in being in a state of undress with the silver-haired man. Aegon, however, had to hide the evidence of how much you affected him under his blankets. It was worse when the nights were chilly, and your nipples pebbled under the thin fabrics of your garments. The self-control he willed himself to bear was almost too much, but now his efforts were coming to fruition.

You pulled away to untie your robe, shrugging it off in haste before returning yourself to Aegon’s arm. Under the dim light of his chambers, the king could see the darker rims of your nubs, the teasing sight so enticing, he almost started salivating. He attached his lips to your clothed nipple, a dampness growing on the cotton from his spit. You sighed in delight, a whine following when his fingertips pinched your other breast.

“Aegon,” you mewled, the sound so sweet to the king’s ears. Your hand traveled down his unscarred chest, and down to his bulge. You squeezed him through his trousers, rubbing his clothed tip with your thumb. Aegon shamelessly moaned against your chest, hips subtly bucking into your touch. A dampness on his front started to mirror the ones on your nightgown, an ache in his tip making him bite the supple underside of your bosom. His larger palm settled on your waist, urging you to straddle his lap. You hesitated, refusing to move in fear of putting him in pain.

“I will hurt you,” you said, to which the king only replied with a fervent shake of his head.

“You won’t, I promise. P-please…” he insisted. You lifted your other leg, caging him between your thighs. Lifting the hem of your nightgown, you pulled the sheer cotton off, baring yourself to your king.

The air in Aegon’s lungs was taken away from the sight of you. He was stunned, his eyes trailing down your tantalizing form as he committed the sight to memory. If he were to perish on the morrow, he would do it happily if it meant seeing this image of you before he took his last breath.

“You are perfect,” he breathed out, a smile rising on his cheeks when you blushed.

He knew why you were doing this. It was your act of rebellion, your bitter revenge on your husband. Perhaps he should feel hurt, refuse to be used like a pawn, but if he got to have you like this, he could hardly complain.

With bated breath, he let you untie his undergarments, pull out his cock, and stroke it in your palm. It had twitched when you bent to drop a dribble of spit to lubricate his length, and Aegon couldn’t help but imagine all of the times in the past you must have done the same to his brother. Though he figured it mattered little when you were with him in the present, and he vowed to treat you well, better than Aemond ever could, so he may have you again in the future.

His length was hot and heavy against your palm, his scent heady with musk. You had barely spared it a glance when you would urge Aegon to let you apply the soothing balm to the scars on his lower body, but now, it stood tall, commanding your attention. You bit back a moan when you ran his tip against your slit, though your king made no effort to hide his delight. You were growing deliciously wet, painting his tip with your arousal. He would have to taste you next time; perhaps make you ride his face. What a wonderful treat that would be.

Deeming yourself ready, you looked to Aegon. He held your cheek, urging you close for another kiss. It was deep, all-consuming, a silent vow from him to you.

I am yours.

Take me as you wish.

Pulling away, you grabbed his length once more, aligning his tip to your entrance. You both moaned in delight when you began to sink onto his cock, burying him to the hilt. It was a delicious stretch, bringing about a deep satisfaction in your chest after having gone untouched for so long. Aegon gripped your waist tight when you began to bounce up and down at a steady pace, seemingly eager to chase your release without needing the time to adjust.

You mounted him like a horse, your loyal steed. Expert hips moved with grace, your hand planting on Aegon’s stomach to steady yourself. You rode him with an air of desperation like you had a point to prove. You wanted to feel that you were still desirable as a woman, and you needed him to prove it true.

Aegon’s mind was in the heavens. Your walls swallowed him so deliciously, it rendered him witless. He moaned unabashedly, echoing your name into the night. In all his depravity and frivolities, nothing tasted better than fucking your brother’s wife. You were a sight to behold, with your glistening, bouncing breasts and head tilted back in delight. Your brows furrowed while your jaw fell slack, the sweet, sweet music of your pleasure filling his senses. Tears had started to streak down your cheeks; from pleasure or guilt, he knew naught.

Before him was no princess, no, you were a goddess divine.

The wounded king had started to buck his hips against yours, but his weakened body made it difficult to help you chase your release. Pain bloomed on his side, making him grit his teeth. You had slowed your movements from the momentary look of discomfort on his face, making you cup his face in return.

“My king–"

“No, no, keep going, please! Don’t stop,” he babbled, gripping your waist tight to make you continue your ministrations. You could hardly express your worry when his strong grip made you lean over with a yelp, holding onto the headboard above his head. From this position, your breasts dangled over Aegon’s face at a perfect angle. He took your teat into his mouth, suckling the plump mound. The air was starting to grow thick with the smell of sex. Sweat dribbled down your back, as it did on Aegon’s temples.

“I’m so close, gods!” Your thighs were starting to tremble under Aegon’s palms, and he could only hold onto your plump rear to guide you to your release. With a thumb drawing tight circles on your pearl, it took little time for your walls to start squeezing his cock, signaling the start of your release. You came with a cry of his name, your king following suit with a muffled grunt into your chest. His warm seed painted your walls, and he could only hope you would let it find its home in your womb.

Perhaps he could make you round with child, yes, that would surely cement his victory over his brother.

You had returned to his side, breathlessly plopping down onto the mattress. Burrowing yourself into his chest, you let out a delighted hum as your lover planted a kiss on your forehead. Tilting your head to look at him, you found his lips once more. In the dead of night, no other words had been exchanged, just your sighs of contentment.

It was then you heard the thunderous flap of a dragon’s wings over the city. Aegon was startled into defensive alertness, assuming it was their enemy, but the look of utter dread on your face when the dragon’s monstrous size blanketed the Keep in its shadow signified it was no foe.

Aemond had returned.

Distracted

Pairings: Anthony Lockwood x fem!reader

Summary: Locked in a room with the boy who has the relic you've been hunting, you try whatever you can to get it back.

Content: fight scene, flirting and making out, a bit suggestive but nothing explicit

A/N: requested by @superpositvecloudshipper - hope you like it! Also can you tell it's my day off with the way this is my third fic in less than 12 hours lol

Word count: 1.9k

As yet another auction came to an abrupt end, the crowded room filling with screams and alarms, Lockwood began to wonder if he was developing a track record.

He was there for a book, written at the very beginning of the Problem, which George insisted would be invaluable in the case they'd just accepted and which DEPRAC were determined to put into secure storage. Nobody had seen it for years, but a week ago it had been listed as the star item at Fothergills Auction House. It wasn't anything as serious as the Bone Glass, but the team had still had to blag their way into the auction with a pocket of tricks each and an unofficial nod from Barnes to do whatever was necessary to prevent the book from winding up on the black market.

So it was that Lockwood found himself surging through the throng of panicked auction-goers, scrambling to escape Lucy's recently detonated smoke bomb. He could barely see through the mass of bodies, made worse by the cloud of dark grey fumes and the pulsing red light of the alarm system. It was only a matter of time before the sprinklers activated. He had to get the book before then.

Out of the corner of his eye he spotted an unusual movement - another figure fighting against the tide of bodies. Probably a relic man with more greed than sense, but at least they'd thought to put their hood up and draw a scarf across their mouth to protect against the smoke. Lockwood pressed forward with increasing urgency.

He reached the podium seconds before the mysterious figure, snatching the book and giving in to the urge to throw his pursuer a triumphant grin. They swore, drowned out by the alarm as it shifted in pitch to indicate the activation of the water sprinklers. Lockwood tucked the book into his coat and bolted for the nearest door, the other person hot on his heels.

Overhead, an automated voice alternated with the alarms.

"Defence alert. Room cleared. Initiating lockdown procedure."

Oh no.

—

You forced your way through the crowd, eyes trained on the book. It would fetch you a pretty penny and give you an advantage over a group of relic men who were giving you grief. As you reached the podium, you stumbled to a halt at the sight of a scrawny dark-haired boy clutching the book. Your book. You scowled, expression deepening as he gave you a bright victory smirk. Well, that was that. No way were you letting him leave here without getting the book. As he sprinted for the door on the left, you followed.

Too late, you realised the door the boy ahead had chosen was not the one for the offices, but for a storage cupboard which would usually have held the items for auction but now was almost bare. Too late, you noticed there were no other doors or windows, just the one that had now sealed behind you.

"I swear," he growled, hand on his rapier, "don’t come any closer. There's nowhere to go and I've fought enough relic men that if you want to get out of here alive you'll keep your distance."

You scoffed, a higher sound than Lockwood was expecting.

"Excuse you, relic man? Presumptuous much?" As you spoke, your scarf shifted to reveal plump red lips, and in one smooth movement you tugged down your hood, scooping the mane of windswept hair it concealed into a messy ponytail.

Lockwood froze for a second before switching on his trademark charisma. No sense in making enemies straight away, besides the more he looked the more he realised there was little room to use his rapier without risking self-injury.

"I meant no offence, I thought Flo Bones was the only relic woman."

You'd heard of Flo, of course, but didn't run in the same circles. She was a one-man, well, one-woman band, except for whoever this guy was it seemed. You tended to keep to yourself, but occasionally took advantage of the more simpering relic men who were so desperate for a woman to look their way that they'd give you anything, making you the leather-clad rogue to Flo's knitted outcast.

"Easy mistake to make, darling, but it won't happen again." You returned his charm with your own, thinly veiling the threat behind your words. "Just give me the book and we can both go on our merry ways."

"I don't think so." He dropped the act in a flash, gripping the book.

Your scowl returned. "Fine. That door's not budging, so I've got time to change your mind."

Without warning, you lunged, catching him off-guard enough that he almost lost his footing. To your dismay, he recovered quickly, pushing you back to give him time to adopt a defensive stance. He was trained, then. Probably from agent work, judging by the rapier. By the book, though. Time to see if he fought dirty.

A scroll of paper was about the only thing left on the shelf beside you, but it would have to do. With a grunt, you tossed it past his shoulder, and as he watched it sail past (no doubt questioning your aim, as you'd planned), you used his distraction to slip closer and force him backwards into a shelf. He cried out as the metal bit into his back and for a moment you hesitated. The boy was only young, he looked about your age, and he wasn't bad looking at that. You could have been in his place in another life, or he in yours. Or both of you on the same team, fighting off some other scoundrel. Unknowingly, you eased off the pressure on his shoulders.

Big mistake.

Lockwood shoved you once more, finally deciding to bring the fight to him and reaching for his rapier. You couldn't allow that, but you were running out of ideas. So you did the only thing you could think of: whipped off your jacket and hurled it directly at his face. The boy was quick, though, you had to give him credit, as he batted it away like a pesky fly. Suddenly he was in your space, hands locking around your now bare wrists and foot snaking out to knock your feet from under you. You fell, unable to stop yourself, but with his grip still on you he lowered you almost gently to the floor, arms pinned above your head and his weight straddling your thighs to keep you from lashing out. He did fight dirty. Interesting.

Your breath was heavy, both from the fight and from finding yourself in such close quarters with the young man. With nowhere to turn, you finally got a proper look at your rival. His dark eyes were trained on you, filled with a mixture of anger, respect and something else. His previously coiffed hair now fell haphazardly across his forehead, and his face was flushed. Still had that insufferable smirk, though.

"I think," you paused to catch your breath, "we got off on the wrong foot. Care to start again?" Your hands were still pinned, hanging loosely against the cold stone floor, but you brought one up in as close to a handshake as circumstances would allow. He didn't take it.

"Who are you?" he asked bluntly.

"Does it matter?"

"Depends."

"On?"

"What you want with the book."

"Let's call it personal insurance."

"I see."

"Do you, darling?" You'd met his type before - rich, cocky, scornful of anyone who'd fallen into the relic hunter lifestyle to keep themselves alive. Then again, he seemed to know that other girl Flo well enough, and he hadn't given any indication he disliked you beyond having the same target, and really it was very hard to form any other opinions of him when his pelvis was practically on top of yours.

He leaned a little closer, pressing your wrists more. "I'm not your darling, darling." The last word came out low and husky, and you resisted the urge to squirm beneath him. It wouldn't do to give him any more of an upper hand just yet, not that there was much more he could get.

"You could be, if you wanted, the position you're in." You'd been watching him through your lashes, but with those words you allowed your gaze to slide down to his lips as your own parted slightly.

Lockwood took the hint.

His kiss was passionate, almost frantic, and you returned it equally. To get low enough to reach your lips, his hips had bucked into yours, and as you gasped at the sensation his tongue darted in. He tasted like bergamot tea. One hand never left where he was keeping you pinned, but the other came round to support the small of your back as you arched into him. Eventually (it took him long enough, distracted as he was when you dragged your teeth across his lower lip), he realised he was supporting all his weight on your wrists, and he propped himself on his other hand and let go. With this newfound freedom, you pushed yourself off the ground, leaning into him until he was sitting back on his feet, your legs still under him but torsos upright and pressed together.

Now on a more even playing field, you were able to have a bit more fun. Not that you were going to complain about the original position, to be fair. It had certainly made things interesting. In the back of your mind you registered that the sirens outside had stopped, but you still had time to kill.

You slid your hands up his chest to the collar of his coat, sliding it down until it gathered around his remarkably firm biceps, then loosened his tie. All the while, your lips never left his, kissing him hungrily. He responded by reaching up and removing the tie from your hair. One hand travelled back down to your waist, the other twisted into your hair with a playful tug. You gasped against his mouth again, tugging his tie which brought him up off his heels. The pressure eased from your legs, and in one swift movement you pulled them through the gap.

As your legs disappeared from under him, Lockwood found himself leaning back with you taking position above. Your hair cascaded around your face, tickling his ears, and he broke the kiss for breath and to stare up at you in wonder. His hand left your hair to support himself, but you adjusted to balance yourself so your hands could slide into his coat and around his waist.

"Well, that's certainly not how I expected this auction to end, but I can't say I'm disappointed," he chuckled.

"Me neither." Behind you the door hissed as the automatic lock disengaged. Abruptly, Lockwood felt your hands retract from within his coat and he dropped painfully onto his elbows. You stood, brushing yourself off and retrieving your jacket, which you slung over your shoulder. At the same time as Lockwood realised his coat felt significantly lighter, he noticed the book tucked under your arm.

"This has been fun, we should do it again some time," you said with a wink as you stepped through the door.

Lockwood scrambled to his feet. By the time he made it to the doorway, the auction room was empty. You'd gone, and so had the book.

He didn't know which he was more disappointed about.

your heart is a muscle the size of a rat

forgive me lord for I have imagined a life far more soft and tender than the one you created for me

jo. 20. stardew valley.

┊͙✧˖*°࿐

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2023 junicult

Flirty Hide and Seek with Star Rail Men

Pairing: Blade, Dan Heng, Gepard, Jing Yuan, Luocha, Welt x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, kissing, hide and seek, slight predator/prey play, neck kisses, grinding, Reader getting pinned

A/N: Slightly naughty but mostly playful.

Blade loves a good game of hunt- er, of hide and seek with you. He's like a demon in the night, staying in the shadows while chuckling at you turning around yourself, looking for him until you saw a pair of crimson eyes staring back at you before you found yourself pinned against the dirt with a sword against your neck. This is part of the game right? It's not? Then what does he get for catching you? A kiss. Well it better be a damn good one. He's sure it will be, its from you after all.

Dan Heng wasn't interested until the topic of kissing came up. Now you have his attention, he likes kissing you a lot. And a little challenge doesn't sound that bad. He lets you escape him the first time but he's always just outside of your vision, appearing just to hold you in place long enough to get his kiss and then letting you push him away again and starting the count again. He can hide from you too but you get the feeling that even when you do you're still the one at a major disadvantage when compared to him.

Gepard sees this a great opportunity to sharpen both your skills and have fun while you're at it. So go ahead, he's very confidant in his ability to find you. He... does not. He's good in combat but sneaking around and smoking people out is not one of his strengths. You actually end up winning the first round and now its his turn to hide. Turns out he's better at that part, but only a little. Still he has a lot of fun while doing it, especially when one of the rules is that the loser has to give a kiss to the winner which... it leaves you both winners and covered with smudged lipstick by the end.

Jing Yuan relishes in this game with you. The mere mention has his eyes lighting up with excitement and has his inner lion coming out to play. You can hide wherever you want he'll always be able to track you down, his eyes zeroing in on you, snaking up on you and pouncing on his cute prey. He has you pinned down completely, his hands holding your wrists, his legs at your sides and most importantly his mouth, his teeth at your neck like the true king of beasts that he is rumored and now shown himself to be. Do the teeth marks hurt? He can kiss them better when he carries you to the warm baths.

Luocha really, really didn't want to play but he folds against your whims like always. The coffin he carried will be the base where he will be counting from but he will spend a long time there even after he's done, thinking over the best strategy. You almost get bored in your hiding spot. Then he starts moving, every move careful and mindful of his surroundings. He knows you're not far, he just needs to keep his coffin within his field of vision and you will come to him. He was right, except he's not fast enough, tackling you to the dusty ground only after you've made the save. He does not like this game very much. No, even after you promise him the reward that is you, all night, however he wants.

Welt would rather hide then seek. He finds it simpler, more exciting if you're the one doing the chasing for once. You like it too don't lie, looking out for him and then both of you making a mad dash, only for him to pull you against him and pin you against the wall with his body and lips. Oh didn't you know? He chose you as his home base, meaning all he needed to do was touch you and he would win. Clever huh? Not fair? Of course it is. Why? Because your lips will be too busy with his to argue.

— THE WAY I LOVED YOU

pairing: theodore nott x reader

summary: in which theodore nott will do anything to get you to go out with him, but you’re just as stubborn rejecting him

warnings: swearing, kissing, dangerous stunts and theo being stupid (ryan gosling in the notebook style), unedited since i wrote this in the middle of the night on no sleep again lol. enemies to lovers if you squint a bit

author’s note: since everyone loves theo i’ll pretend this isn’t just for my own selfish needs <3 (especially the notebook reference) also surprise surprise mc is a gryffindor as always, you’d never know i was a slytherin my bad guys… as always let me know what u think! enjoy, angels 💌

The first time Theodore Nott asks you out, you spill a pot of ink directly into his lap.

It’s not like you meant to do it. But when there’s a Transfiguration worksheet to be getting on with, the Slytherin boy seated next to you by Professor McGonagall asking you out would surely take anyone by surprise.

The second you twist in your seat to look at him in shock, your arm slides the pot right off the desk and directly onto his grey trousers, instantly staining them with the black liquid before you have a chance to speak.

Your hands fly to your mouth to stifle your gasp and you look up at him, anticipating an angry glare in return. Instead, he looks mildly surprised at the ever-growing stain on his crotch, but mostly… amused?

“A simple ‘no’ would have sufficed, darling,” he says, raising an eyebrow and suppressing a smile.

You begin stuttering out an apology and scrambling for your wand to wave away the stain before you can do something stupid like attempting to rub it off with your sleeve. Your cheeks instantly heat up at the humiliating image now plaguing your mind and you barely contain a sigh of relief when you realise the lesson has finished.

It’s a miracle your shoes haven’t left scuff marks on the ground in a cartoonish trail with the speed at which you leave the classroom. Godric knows why Theo Nott of all people wants to ask you out, but since it can’t possibly be for any good reason, you’d rather not think about it too much. This, however, isn’t helped by Hermione pestering you about why you look so flustered for the entire walk to the Charms classroom.

Twenty minutes later, her attention is finally diverted. On the other hand, it’s because she’s berating you for accidentally burning the end of her left eyebrow off with a charm gone wrong.

The second time Theo asks you out, there are thankfully no ink pots around.

“Hey,” he whispers from behind you, making you jump within an inch of your life despite his low volume. You swivel in your chair to glare at him, incredulous. Seeing that he’s startled you, Theo grins. “Sorry. What are you doing?”

“Baking a cake,” you deadpan, once your heart has started beating at a normal pace again. Holding up your Potions book, you feel the annoyance start to seep in when Theo continues looking at you, undeterred. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

Apparently unfazed by your sarcasm, he drags out the chair next to you and spins it around to sit on it backwards. Settling his arms on top of the backrest, Theo rests his chin on them to look at you. “You never did answer my question.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you mumble, eyes scanning the page in front of you but taking in nothing. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to study-”

“Are you going to make me ask you again?” he sighs. You panic a little at his bluntness and continue pretending to read, not knowing what else to do. Theo takes your silence as encouragement and shuffles his chair closer to your own. “Go out with me.”

The arrogance practically drips off his voice, and the pit of anxiety in your stomach immediately turns into irritation instead. “No,” you grit out, slamming your potions book shut to scowl at him. “And I don’t hear you asking anything.”

“Okay,” Theo says slowly, nodding as though he understands. It’s clear that he doesn’t though, because the next words out of his mouth have you stunned. “Please, oh please, will you do me the absolute greatest honour of going out with me?”

”Merlin,” you exhale, pinching the bridge of your nose. Dropping your hands into your lap, you see no solution other than gathering your things to return to the common room. “You’re having me on…”

“I can assure you, I’m not,” Theo says quickly, stopping you from leaving by gently grabbing your elbow. You stop in your movements to catch him looking more unsure than you’ve ever seen, and you’ve never been more perplexed. “I’m completely serious right now. Go out with me?”

“Wh- I don’t even-” you sigh, cutting your senseless muttering off to cross your arms over your textbook. “Whatever happened to a simple ‘no’ sufficing, darling? Aren’t there a million other girls for you to go and pester? Godric knows you’ve got an entourage following you half the- What are you looking at?”

Amazingly, Theo’s expression has lost all trace of vulnerability and now displays a slightly faraway look, his signature lazy grin in full effect. “Sorry, I didn’t hear a word after you called me ‘darling’.”

Resisting the urge to hit him over the head with your textbook, you take a deep breath and grasp the potential weapon tighter in your hands before speaking. “As hard as it is for me to believe that girls actually fall for this rubbish, your history with them shows that they do. Don’t think for a second, I’m going to let you use me like they do.”

Theo considers your words for a few seconds, mulling them over as carefully as though he’s trying to solve a brain teaser. Eventually, he seems to come to a satisfying conclusion, because he tucks his hands into the pockets of his trousers and tilts his head. “So you need me to prove I’m serious about this… and then you’ll say yes?”

“Oh, for the love of-” Huffing, you turn on your heal without saying another word and storm out of the library. Theo doesn’t follow you, allowing you to clear your head and think about the incredibly odd interaction.

You’re climbing through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room when you realise you never actually refuted Theo and his theory to make you go out with him. Whether or not it was on purpose, you can’t quite decide.

Over the next few weeks, you start wishing you had stopped Theo before he could start trying to prove himself to you.

You can’t go a single day without the question of going out with him popping up. Much to your bewilderment, it isn’t always him asking. Sometimes it’s his friends, sometimes it’s students at the Gryffindor table who are sick of the multiple owls every morning flocking to your table with a note in their beaks. Sometimes it’s even your friends.

“I mean, really,” Hermione says at breakfast, huffy as always when reprimanding someone. “It’d be benefiting everyone if you just went out with him. Why don’t you, anyway?”

“He’s a Slytherin,” Ron butts in, talking to Hermione as though he’s explaining something to a child. He takes a gigantic bite of his toast before speaking, his next words coming out muffled. “Surely that’s reason enough.”

“No, that isn’t reason enough,” Hermione says sternly, furrowing her brows. “A good reason would have been all the girls he’s always with. Of course, that’s flown out the window recently. He’s also never given them as much attention now that I think about it.”

“He’s definitely not the worst of the group either,” Harry adds, leaning in as nosily as Ron. “Not like we’re talking about Malfoy…”

“Don’t you two have Quidditch tactics to be discussing?” you snap, exhausted by the subject already. The two boys hold up their hands in surrender, before shuffling down the bench. Whether that’s to be closer to the Quidditch team, or to get away from you before you start throwing hexes - you aren’t certain.

The fact you’re awake early in the morning on a Saturday isn’t helping your sour mood, and the Quidditch match being between Gryffindor and Slytherin only adds to this.

“We’d better go and get a good seat at the front, so we aren’t on our tiptoes for the whole game like last time,” Hermione says, already sliding off the bench. You give your cup of coffee one last longing look before you allow yourself to be dragged away.

You haven’t even made it onto the Quidditch pitch before you’re already wishing for that cup of coffee to give you strength, because you find none other than Theo standing outside the Great Hall in his green and silver Quidditch robes.

As soon as he spots you, Theo plasters on that charming smile of his and opens his mouth, no doubt to ask you if you could talk privately.

Hermione interjects before he gets the chance. “Don’t bother, I’m leaving.” She simply sighs when you look at her, betrayed. “He’d have convinced you anyway! I’ll save you a seat.”

You watch her leave, helplessly before turning to Theo and crossing your arms. “Yes?”

“I have a proposition for you,” he says simply, getting to the point. The proposition has, without a doubt, got something to do with you and him and a trip to Hogsmeade, but you gesture for him to continue nonetheless. You can’t deny it’s been entertaining watching Theo come up with new ways to ask you out these past few weeks. “I’ll throw the match and let your lot win if you go out with me.”

This startles a laugh out of you, something between a chortle and a gasp. “Oh, you cheeky bastard,” you exclaim, but you can’t help grinning. That was quite possibly the last thing you expected him to say. “First of all, I think my lot is perfectly capable of winning on their own. And secondly… as funny as it would be, I’d rather not have your death and Malfoy’s subsequent imprisonment in Azkaban be on my conscience.”

You only realise just how wide your smile is when it starts to fade under Theo’s unwavering gaze. His lips twitch up into a smile and you immediately frown as an automatic response. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You’re bantering with me,” Theo says, grinning as though he’s extremely pleased with himself. You realise with a jolt, that yes you were bantering. “One step closer to agreeing to go out with me.”

“That’s not happening,” you protest, but it sounds fairly weak, even to you. “Like I keep telling you, I’m not going to be one of those girls.”

Theo shrugs. “And I think you already know you’re not one of those girls. It’s fine, I can wait.”

The relaxed manner in which he says this has you flabbergasted to say the least. Truthfully, you aren’t completely sure why you haven’t just agreed at this point. No one in the whole school is used to witnessing such extravagant displays from Theodore Nott, so you’ve accepted the fact you’re an outlier in this particular subject area. You’re starting to think Hermione’s right, and it’s pure stubbornness that’s keeping you going.

“You’ll be waiting a long time then,” you say, giving Theo a bland smile.

“Nah,” is all he says, the smile still gracing his unperturbed face. “Keep an eye out for me in the Quidditch stands.”

Theo winks at you before walking away in the direction of the pitch and you linger in the castle for a good few minutes before snapping out of it and walking in the same direction.

You find Hermione quickly at the front of the Gryffindor stand and you’re about to ask how long until the game starts when Lee Jordan’s voice begins to boom from the commentator stand.

“Strong start for Gryffindor with Katie Bell taking the Quaffle and- nope, Vaisey’s taken it and passed it onto Urquhart, his fellow Chaser and the new Slytherin captain.” You’re thankful for Lee’s commentary as it’s easy to follow and you probably wouldn’t have a clue if it weren’t for him. Surprisingly, he keeps it professional enough for a while. “Ginny Weasley tries to take the Quaffle after a near hit there to Urquhart, thanks to new Gryffindor Beater Jimmy Peakes and that very solid Bludger over there. Unfortunately, he missed-”

“JORDAN.”

“Sorry, Professor McGonagall, I meant fortunately. Slytherin Chaser Mattheo Riddle now has the Quaffle and seems to be aiming to score and- oops! He’s missed, thanks to Gryffindor Keeper Ron Weasley. Good on you, Weasley,” Lee says, unable to be impartial as shown by McGonagall’s glare. “As for the Slytherin Keeper, Nott seems to be distracted by something in the Gryffindor stands. Or should I say someone.”

Laughter echoes in every stand, much to your utter humiliation and some people even start whooping and cheering in your direction. Theo’s antics are common knowledge at this point, but it doesn’t make the laughter any less embarrassing. You try and maintain a shred of dignity by standing still and glaring as hard as you can at Theo. Horrifyingly, he starts to fly in your direction.

Lee looks at McGonagall before speaking, but she merely shrugs helplessly, looking flustered herself. “Er, well it seems Slytherin are open for Gryffindor to score. No one seems to be taking advantage, however, as I think I can speak for everyone when I say we want to know what’s going on with Nott and Y/N.”

Glancing at the others, you realise Lee is right and all the players are hovering in place, making no move to continue the game. They look partly confused, but mostly nosy.

Theo stops just outside the Gryffindor stand, his attention focused wholly on you. You raise both eyebrows in question, waiting for him to speak. “Go out with me.”

“Unfortunately, I can’t quite hear what Nott is saying, but I think we can all guess he’s asking her out again,” Lee says, causing a few more cheers and even a couple groans. “Take the hint, mate.”

“Theo, get back to the game!” you hiss, wrapping your arms around you as if it’ll shield you from everyone’s eyes. “You’re embarrassing m- What the fuck are you doing!”

Theo swings a leg over the side of his broomstick so that he’s sitting completely facing you, legs dangling dangerously off one side. Lee sits up a little in his booth and McGonagall looks positively horrified. “For unknown reasons, Nott is balancing precariously in a position no Quidditch player wants to- Merlin, he’s hanging off his broomstick!”

Everyone in the crowd screams and shouts when Theo slips off his broomstick, but they quieten down and watch with fright when they see he’s still holding on with both hands. You think you’re going to faint.

“Theo,” you plead, with the same voice you’d use to coax a bloody kitten out of a tree. “Get back on your broomstick. Please.”

“Only if you go out with me,” Theo says, eyes determined despite breathing a little heavier. The broomstick is thin and despite his strength, it’d be hard for anyone to maintain a grip for long. “Say you’ll go out with me and I’ll get back on.”

“Just say it!” Hermione grabs you by the shoulder to shake you.

Professor McGonagall seems to have shaken out of her previous daze and begins scrambling around for her wand while Lee narrows his eyes to better assess the situation. “Godric, Y/N. Just say ‘yes’ and end everyone’s misery already.”

“But…” you trail off, hands shaking as you keep your eyes on Theo’s white knuckles still gripping the broom. “I don’t want to encourage this stupid behaviour.”

Theo rolls his eyes as though he can’t believe you’re still objecting. He shakes his head at you, though his chest is shaking with laughter. “Go out with me, and I swear I’ll never do anything stupid again. Fucking hell, I’ll quit Quidditch altogether if you want.”

You open your mouth to say something, you’re not sure what, but before you can get a word out, Seamus Finnigan pipes up from beside you. “Personally, I say let him fall off the bloody thing.”

Tutting, you turn to Theo just to find the idiot raising an eyebrow challengingly. His left hand begins to loosen on the broomstick, deliberately.

“Theo, don’t you dare.”

He drops his left hand completely and you scream, the noise drowned out by everyone else’s yells.

“OKAY!” you yelp, heart in throat as you watch Theo dangling from his broomstick with one hand, clearly struggling. “Okay, I’ll go out with you, you stubborn idiot!”

The Gryffindors that hear you, begin to cheer, setting off the other houses and once McGonagall sees Theo begin to pull himself up on his broomstick, she visibly relaxes, slumping in her seat as she clutches her chest. Lee soon gets the message. “Finally, after a good month of watching Nott pine pathetically, Y/N has agreed to go out with the poor bast- Er, beggar. Sorry, Professor. By the way Nott, you’ve got detention for a week.”

Now sitting normally on his broomstick, Theo grins at you like the cheeky bastard that he is, with elation clear as day on his face. You struggle to fight off your own grin and you can tell by his expression you’re not doing a very good job at it. “Pull something like that again and I’ll push you off your broomstick myself,” you warn him, though it lacks any real threat. You were more worried than angry, and it definitely shows. “Okay?”

“No more stupid behaviour,” Theo promises, sounding sincere as he nods, messy hair falling into his eyes. The wind blows it out of the way almost immediately and you find yourself wanting to do it with your fingers. “After this, though.”

You furrow your brows as Theo flies close enough to the Gryffindor stand to get off his broomstick and hop right into the crowd, landing next to you. Broomstick in hand, Theo doesn’t take his eyes off you when he holds it out to Hermione. “If you don’t mind, Granger.”

Clearly baffled, Hermione gingerly takes the broomstick from him and watches the two of you, as enraptured as the rest of the school.

You face Theo properly, looking up at his eyes to see them glittering with pride and achievement. You tilt your head in question, wondering why he hasn’t yet returned to the game.

Theo answers you by gripping your waist to pull you into a stupidly dramatic, dizzying, wonderful kiss. His lips are soft against your own and cold from the wind, but the shiver that runs down your spine has nothing to do with the temperature and everything to do with the way Theo is pressed against you.

You could go on forever, but the cheers and claps and hollering around you remind you that you’re surrounded by all your peers and, Godric, your teachers.

Pulling away, you clear your throat and attempt to gain back some of your dignity by keeping a serious face. Theo attempts nothing of the sort as he’s still wearing a silly grin. You try and avoid his eyes for the sake of your nerves and you mutter the first thing that comes to mind. “Erm, good luck then. I hope you win.”

This is the wrong thing to say surrounded by your fellow Gryffindors as a few of them boo at you.

Theo rolls his eyes at the dramatics, while you simply scowl, pointedly at Seamus who seems to have boo’ed the loudest. Hermione is beaming at you when she hands Theo back his broomstick, though she also gives a little frown directed at Seamus.

Getting back on his broomstick, Theo hovers near you outside the stand. You lower your voice to a whisper that only he can hear. “I still hope you win.”

Theo shrugs, looking more relaxed than you’ve ever seen him during a Quidditch game. “I’ve already won, darling.”

I love Twitter bc everyone is dumb

Duke(King)dom Fae AU

Beginnings

Continuation

Pets

Jealousy

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

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

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

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

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

You smiled sincerely at the memory.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blinked.

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

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

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

“Spit it back! Spit it back!”

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

“Oh my god, I am—“

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

“So sorry.” You finished, mouth agape.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Watching the video, you beamed back at her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Presently, you were actively refusing to blush.

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

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

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

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