#WHY IS IT ALWAYS STORMING WHENEVER I'M TRYING TO DO SOMETHING SPECIFIC OFF LOT

[victorluvsalice]

-->They immediately arrived in the middle of a thunderstorm! *facepalm* I SWEAR, every time I travel... I promptly got the weather machine out of Build/Buy, stuck it on the right side of the lot (where it seemed least likely to block Sim traffic), and had Smiler set it to “clear skies” while Victor and Alice amused themselves with some chess (Alice won, to Victor’s slight annoyance XD). Smiler was successful and went to chat with them as the weather slowly but surely cleared up (though the game took its price by busting their umbrella), then – once the skies were blue and everyone was out of their wet clothes and into nice dry warm weather outfits – I had Victor challenge Smiler to a match while I sent Alice off to a nearby easel in the world to paint some of the benches and trees in the frankly very pretty cherry-blossom tree park behind her. :) Victor managed to win the game against Smiler – guess he was determined to make up for his loss to Alice. XD Once I was sure they were done, I had Smiler head to the front of the park and drink a plasma fruit to make sure they weren’t thirsty, then had Victor hit them with the old Scruberoo to make sure they were clean –

-->And then had Smiler set up the snack stand and start a food sale! Featuring Alice’s strawberry fizz cupcakes, pumpkin spice waffles, blueberry pie, and remaining banana split waffles from the last sale (which – I THOUGHT the game had said were spoiled when I first looked in Smiler’s inventory, but then they were fine again after I started moving items into the stand? O.o Game, what – actually, I won’t complain about you unspoiling my food, carry on) and Victor’s everything bagels. Things were a bit slow at first, so I left Smiler tending the table and instead focused on keeping Victor busy with collecting insects (a couple of locusts fluttering around the park) and making a digital painting of a bench by the big circle fountain a little ways away (which ended up being a masterpiece, nice). Once Victor was sufficiently occupied, I checked back in on Smiler, but only one potential customer had shown up – dude named Patrick who I recognized from the last update at the grocery store. Well, at least that suggested he would buy something! I had Smiler give him a sales pitch, which didn’t seem to do much unfortunately –

Then realized Victor was already done with his painting, whoops. Forgot the ones on the digital sketchpad go WAAAY faster than the ones on the easel! I had him come back and plant a bluebell in the public planters in the park, then tend the plants and before settling in for a bit of cloudgazing while I went back to Smiler. A few more people had shown up by this point, including Marcus Flex and L. Faba from the Magic Realm. Smiler greeted and made insta-friends with Marcus Flex, as is their wont, picking up a new like for High-Energy Sims in the process (seems legit). I kept an eye on them and tried to have them hit as many Sims with sales pitches as they could –

[kiskisur]

I'm here whenever you need it.

warnings: nothing but fluff, reader gets misgendered, slight angst with comfort, no specific pronouns for reader, male reader

note: I was feeling very depressed lately because I keep getting misgendered so I made this for myself :)

In a bustling corner of Liyue, you found yourself caught up in a lively discussion about the upcoming Lantern Rite festival. You had some thoughts to share, but it seemed like the people you were talking to weren't quite getting it right when it came to your gender.

As you chimed in with your thoughts, one of them turned to you and said, "So, what's your take on this, girl?"

You felt that familiar twitch of annoyance in your gut, but you stayed cool and replied, "Well, I think..."

But before you could continue, they cut you off with an easy shrug. "Oh, sorry about that. Anyway, as I was saying..."

You had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes. It was like they weren't even trying to get it, and it was getting under your skin.

Inside your room, you closed the door behind you and slumped against it, your frustration and pent-up emotions finally bubbling over.

Tears welled up unexpectedly, and you hastily wiped them away, not wanting to give in to the overwhelming feeling of defeat. Why couldn't people just see you for you? The unfairness of it all seemed to crash down at once.

Just when you thought you had the tears under control, a soft knock on the door startled you. "Uh, who's there?" you managed to ask, your voice cracking a bit.

"It's Zhongli," came the calm reply.

You hesitated, unsure if you wanted anyone to see you like this, but there was something reassuring about his presence. Swallowing your pride, you opened the door, revealing your tear-streaked face.

Zhongli's amber eyes reflected concern as he took in your appearance. Without a word, he stepped forward and enveloped you in a warm hug. The simple gesture sent a shiver down your spine as the dam broke, and you found yourself sobbing into his shoulder, all the built-up emotions pouring out.

"Hey, hey, it's alright," Zhongli murmured, his voice soothing as he rubbed your back gently. "Let it out."

You clung to him, feeling a mixture of vulnerability and relief. It was like a safe space in the storm of your emotions. After a while, your sobs began to ebb, leaving you feeling strangely lighter.

"You're not alone in this," Zhongli whispered, his words like a lifeline. "I see you, and your identity is valid."

You pulled back slightly, looking at him through tear-blurred vision. "It's just... it's so damn exhausting, Zhongli. I'm tired of always having to explain myself."

Zhongli's thumb brushed away a tear from your cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle. "I can't fully understand, but I'm here to listen and support. You shouldn't have to constantly defend who you are."

You nodded, sniffling. "Thanks, Zhongli. I appreciate that."

He smiled softly. "You're welcome. And remember, there are people who care about you and want to understand. Your journey matters."

As he held you, a sense of reassurance washed over you. Maybe the world was full of people who didn't get it, but in that moment, you had someone who did, and that made all the difference.

comfort of the day:

I'm proud of you, very very proud of you. I know a lot of people say this or they never do but believe me when I say I am SO happy you're still here I mean it. keep going okay? I'm proud of you and I love you so much <3

[poisonouswritings]

Hi fren, can we please get headcanons over how Sage and Balsam would be with an S/O that can be just as stubborn and a little shit as they can be? Give em’ a taste of their own medicine for once >:)

✨Gremlin Energy ✨

GN!Reader, I'm including Lucan because he can also be very stubborn and also I just love him, can someone suggest a last name for Balsam because I'm [ ] this close to just making something up

Sage Lesath

So Tulsi and Anisa used to constantly lecture Sage about how he has to learn to get along with others and stop insisting he's right about everything and all that. Not just because it was frustrating (it was) but also because it could get him into trouble.

Yeah. Well.

You insist you can throw a knife, you refuse to listen to him telling you not to throw the knife, you promptly manage to stab someone in the arm, said stabbing victim obviously attacks you, Sage gets punched in the face while protecting you.

Cut to ten minutes later where you're holding a bag of ice to his face while he lectures you about Not Throwing Sharp Objects!!

After about,, a month or so,,, ends up apologizing to Anisa for always ignoring her advice.

Don't get me wrong he's still a stubborn little shit!! You have to try and keep him out of trouble just as much as he keeps you out of it.

He,, is,,, not the best person to get in an argument with,,,,, Y'know how when cats are angry, they puff up and hiss and scratch at you? Sage never hits you or anything but he will get in your face and he will yell. He expects you to do the same. If you respond to an argument by being very soft and calm, it'll confuse him enough to make him calm down, though he still probably won't listen to what you're saying right away. Once he storms off and has some time to cool down (either by going to the tavern or taking a nap), he'll usually apologize in his own awkward way.

You guys probably agree to disagree a lot.

If you wanna do something really dangerous - aka something really stupid, like trying to pet a feral glowcat kitten because it's small and cute - Sage will try to talk you out of it. And if you don't listen then he'll just pick you up and move you out of the area.

Sometimes your little shit-ness combines and you decide to work together to do something really fucking stupid (trying to jump into the pool via climbing one of the really high pillars) and then Anisa is lecturing you both.

Lucan De Bhaldraithe

He's obviously stubborn when it comes to his beliefs, but outside of that he's usually a lot more easygoing. Usually willing to compromise. He'll stick with you no matter what dumb thing you're doing to make sure you don't get hurt.

He is a bit of a himbo tho. He and Sage like to do stupid and dangerous shit together because it's funny. Like, one time it was snowing a lot and they decided to get a bunch of snow into a pile and then jump into it from 20 feet up! That did not end well! If they didn't have a healing factor (Corruption) they absolutely would have broken bones! Actually they did break bones but they healed but you get what I mean!

If there was a Running With The Bulls type of festival, Lucan would do it because it seems like fun to him!!

Anyways.

He can get loud during arguments but he's not usually aggressive about it unless it's a very sensitive subject. He tries to see your perspective. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it does not.

I think dealing with your stubborn ass kinda gives him a new appreciation for Elowen. I also think he uses some of her tactics to get a handle on you.

Balsam (Why Didn't He Get A Last Name)

B,,,bull,,,,,bull-headed,,,,,,,,

Yeah he's stubborn but he's probably the least likely to do stupid shit on purpose

Whenever you wanna do something stupid and try to insist on it, he always asks you why, and if there's something else you can do to meet that need that isn't dangerous. So if you want to pet a dangerous animal because it's fluffy, he'll ask why it needs to be that specific animal and suggests petting something that won't try to eat you.

Smart man.

If you want to do something that's stupid but not particularly dangerous, then he kinda just shrugs and lets you do it. And then when it inevitably goes to shit, he lectures you, but he also helps you fix it.

He doesn't intentionally do stupid/dangerous things! So if he is doing something stupid/dangerous, it's because he's focused on it too much and now is absolutely certain that he'll be fine. The best way to talk him out of it is to interject yourself. Oh, he owes money to someone and they've been threatening him/you and he's planning to go confront them and he just refuses to acknowledge the fact that it's 9/10 a trap and he will get jumped?? Okay :) you're gonna tag along now :) and then he acknowledges it's dangerous and not smart and is willing to come up with another idea.

Although if it's something he's really set on then I would not put it past him to just sneak out of the house or something to go do it.

He's used to being the one with the braincell in the Griefers. So arguments with him are annoying because he's so used to being right that he has a hard time listening to anything else. He's also used to having to shout over everyone else (and let's be real, he's just a loud person to begin with), especially if you're stubborn and insisting on arguing back with him, so you may get a headache afterwards. If you flinch or cover your ears then he'll realize how loud/aggressive he's being and calm down. He's a lot faster to apologize than Sage is, but he still has to cool off first. The semi-good news is he hates arguing with you so he generally does whatever he can to avoid any disagreement getting to that point.

[taechaos]

Silent Treatment

from Textbook Love drabble series

pairing: bully!Jungkook x nerdy!fem!Reader

genre: drabble, smut, college au

synopsis: Why did you reject him? He’s consumed by his thoughts and theories of your behavior because you didn’t say a single word to him. If your actions were anything to go by, which apparently speak louder than words, you didn’t even want him to touch you.

warnings: slight angst, drugs, arguing, dubcon, cunnilingus, mild degredation

word count: 4.2k

tags: @mwitsmejk @1-in-abillion @kooookie

a/n: the request (contains some spoilers). i'm gonna take a very short break from this couple to write other requests!! hope u enjoy 💗

The shift in the Spring weather is unpredictable. One moment it’s chilly, and the other sunny. Humans can only adapt so much, and it causes an outbreak of common colds. Most people recover easily, handy medicine soothing their sore throats, syrups suppressing coughs, and nose sprays ridding the blockage. You, on the other hand, are not that lucky. With a weak immune system, you’re very careful to not get sick, but there must have been a slip-up because you’ve somehow lost your voice after catching a cold.

You sniffle and cough, but you can’t speak. It’s advised to not exert your vocal cords in cases like these, and that is just so unfortunate for you. The last thing you’d ever want to do is spread your sickness to Jungkook, and that meant not getting too close to him; it meant no kissing. 

A very large white placard is spread out in front of you on the wooden table, and you’re plastering printed images of a specific global issue on it. You’re sitting on a bench with two of your friends as they chatter mindlessly while you work. Jungkook has a project about climate change due in a few days, and it’s supposed to be very important for his final grade. You’ve already written him a script for his presentation along with a stick prop to point at specific pictures. It’s fun, glittery and he’s going to love it. 

“Hey,” Minnie, your friend, calls for you, “we’re going to get some coffee from Starbucks. Want us to get you green tea?”

Soyeon laughs when your eyes light up; it’s your favorite beverage, and it’s supposed to help with your sore throat. They leave with a smile after you give them a hyper nod and you’re alone as you adjust your woolen scarf around your neck. You need to heal as fast as you can so you’re no longer missing your beloved’s affection.

Jungkook has been feeling more inclined to approach you without reason lately, but that doesn’t mean it’s a common occurrence. Getting teased by his friend, specifically Taehyung, about having a sissy crush on a girl like yourself angered him to no end. A hit always got him to shut up, but not for long. He’s walking your way today because there’s no one around to judge him for talking to you. 

You’re tearing a double-sided tape when he sits on your table, carefully avoiding your materials. Your breath hitches as his eyes gloss over your work in progress. “Working hard, I see,” he comments with disinterest. He doesn’t say anything about your efforts, but he’s impressed. The corner of his lip tugs upwards before he leans in for a kiss. You have enough self-control and concern for his well-being over your desires to lean back before your lips make contact. His face is close to yours as he pauses and slightly frowns before trying again. He receives the same results and finally pulls back. 

“You did well,” he frowns at you and speaks as if you’re a child, “I’m praising you.” Your eyes are darting back and forth awkwardly and you don’t know what to do other than sit in silence. You put your hands on his knees as a resort and his frown deepens as he watches you. “I can take a hint, you know. You don’t have to fucking ignore me.” He roughly shoves your hands and stands up before storming off with a scoff. You’re torn between following him and being responsible over your belongings. You can’t let his grades go to waste because of a small misunderstanding, so you decide to text him instead. There’s always a possibility someone might steal his project. Or maybe after he’s cooled off? You delay the message, but somewhere in your heart, you’re satisfied by his reaction because it’s clear that he wanted to kiss you.

Heavy footsteps clomp against the sidewalk before Jungkook slumps on the seat next to Taehyung. It’s an isolated area for smoking students at the back of the campus, and his friend group is no exception to this role. They’re taking drags of cigarettes individually as Jungkook glares at his boots. They’re chunky and a bold black, and his dark outfit paints him as the big bad wolf. It fits, because he’s ready to attack when he’s filled with so much resentment. Why did you reject him? He’s consumed by his thoughts and theories of your behavior because you didn’t say a single word to him. If your actions were anything to go by, which apparently speak louder than words, you didn’t even want him to touch you. It doesn’t make sense, but you also grimaced at him, but then why were you doing his homework? He’s feeling frustrated, and upset all the same.

“Someone’s troubled,” Seokjin points out with a mouthful of smoke. “Kookie?”

Said boy only grunts in response.

“Did the lousy girl finally see you for who you really are and leave you?” Taehyung doesn’t hesitate to mock him with a pout. “Tragic.”

“Shut the fuck up, Tae,” Jungkook spits and sends him a death glare, fire flaming in his fierce eyes. “Go actually talk to a girl or something, and leave me alone. I can’t take your shit right now.”

The low blow doesn’t affect Taehyung in the slightest as he holds up his hands in defence with comically wide eyes. “Relax, tiger.”

“Moving on from Tae’s inability to talk to girls in broad daylight, what’s up with you Kook?” Namjoon butts in, earning a fake cough from the receiving end of the insult.

He pauses for a moment before babbling, “I hate those bitches. My mother for one, couldn’t stand wearing clothes whenever she saw a dude. Moving on from guy to guy, unless they’re a fucking asshole. What do they want? Why are they never fucking satisfied?!”

A moment of silence passes among the huddled friends before Yoongi breaks it with a joke, “Who’s the lucky girl?” It doesn’t land as Jungkook deeply sighs in response. “Did she cheat on you?” he tries again.

“No,” he murmurs.

“Then…?”

“She… I don’t fucking know, she gave me the silent treatment. She leaned away from me too,” he shakes his head with a quiet groan, “it just doesn’t add up. I got mad and left.”

“No way that could’ve ended up badly,” Taehyung chuckles but purses his lips when he’s sent another dirty look.  “How long was the interaction anyway?” 

“Like 30 seconds.”

“Are you coming out tonight?” Yoongi asks and puts out the burning tip of his stick. “Could help you feel better.”

“And we’ve got molly,” Namjoon adds.

“Yeah, fine, whatever.”

Alcohol’s effect on a person differs in moods, and Jungkook is usually a horny drunk. Being a sad drunk is a first for him tonight, but he’s just so confused. It made his heart drop when you outwardly refused his advances and anxiety blossomed in his chest, which he has no idea how to deal with. It kicked in fight or flight instincts, and he just… hated the idea of you not loving him, even if it’s momentary. He can’t bear staying in a situation that makes him feel so insecure, and that feeling is supposed to be left in his childhood. You just about brought out the worst in him without doing anything. 

You didn’t do anything.

It’s 10PM and he’s waiting on your usual good night text that he never responds to. It’s so pathetic, and he hates himself for being so used to your affection that it worries him when he’s deprived of it. He’s never doubted your love for him, but his insecurities are churning his gut. It’s an overflow of all of his pent-up emotions, and he can’t handle it.

“Here,” Taehyung pops in out of nowhere, clutching a pill in his hand. There’s a bottle of water in the other as he holds them out for Jungkook to take. “Stop moping and get laid.”

“I’d say the same to you, but you’d probably start crying during sex,” he mumbles and uncaps the bottle before throwing in the pill and washing it down with the water. “Thanks.”

“See that girl over there?” he ignores him and steps behind his miserable friend to point at the owner of the sultry gaze directed at Jungkook from the bar. “She wants to fuck you. Or maybe me, but I’m passing her onto you.”

“How kind of you,” he sarcastically replies.

“Uh-uh, so you’re gonna be in ecstasy in about 10 minutes. Don’t fuck this up.” He slaps his shoulder before disappearing into the kitchen. It’s a lonesome party because not a lot of people are allowed in when drugs are involved. Causing a ruckus, receiving a noise complaint and then getting arrested is out of the question. 

He isn’t interested in sex with a stranger - not today at least -, but he hopes for it to change as he waits to approach her. Maybe drugs will rile him up enough to have fun with someone else and rid his mind of you. It’s an annoying itch on his brain, so he rests his head against the couch to comfort himself with the soft fabric. He’s sleepy from the beer he drank earlier, and he doesn’t know how time goes by so fast when he closes his eyes.

A few minutes must have passed, because he’s starting to feel dizzy in his seat. A smile carves on his face as his mind grows slightly fogged, and he opens his eyes to find the girl quietly chatting with a friend. When she glances at him, he beckons her to come over. She mouths a “be right back” to her friend before strutting in his direction.

“Hey,” she smiles down at him before sitting on the couch. She’s aristocratic, chic and pretty. “Sorry if I weirded you out earlier.” Her voice is sweet like honey, and her words flow out of her tongue so naturally. A dream girl, really, and Jungkook is starting to get horny.

“I don’t mind,” he reassures with a subtle seductive tone, “what’s a girl like you doing with this crowd? You look too innocent.” He wraps a finger around a strand of her hair and twirls it. It feels strange.

“My friend sent me here, told me to watch over someone,” she lowly speaks. “I’m Soyeon.”

“Nice to meet you, Soyeon,” he breathes before crashing her lips with his. His hand reaches down to grip her thigh, tongue poking out to swipe the sticky gloss. It’s flavored, and it tastes of strawberry. When she kisses him back so slowly, innocently, it turns him on so much. His pants feel tight around his crotch as he runs another hand through her soft hair. Compared to him, she’s passionate whereas he’s sloppy. He’s starting to get dizzier, and it feels so fucking good, but he hates it.

There is not a single reason for him to not enjoy this, not when his mood is lifting so high. The hand on her thigh lands on her cleavage instead and she’s so submissive and shy, but something’s off. He groans into her mouth before biting her lip, ripping a whine out of her. Why does she sound so sexy and annoying?  

He pulls away from her before sighing in irritation. “Fuck, I can’t do this.” 

“Did I do something wrong?” she asks worriedly.

“No, just, fuck.” He starts laughing before rubbing his palms on his eyes, “I really want to fuck, but I just can’t.”

“We can just chat,” she softly suggests. “What’s your name?”

“Jungkook.”

He removes his hands from his face when she goes silent. Her eyes are wide and she’s gaping at him… guiltily? “Crap,” she hisses quietly, “I was supposed to make sure you were okay. My roommate is like, super in love with you and asked me to come here.”

He says your name in a question, wondering if it’s you. When she nods, he asks for your dorm instantly.

“She’s in room 124… Why?”

When he stands up, there’s a sway in his posture but he recovers quickly. There’s an involuntary grin on his face as he thanks her ignorantly. He’s out of the villa in a rush, and he has the overwhelming urge to just run. The campus is a bit far away from the house, but he doesn’t care as his footfalls echo in the dark streets. He has so much energy to waste, and with his current stamina, he’s confident he’ll find you before dawn. It’s stupid but it’s fun, and he doesn’t care for catching his breath as the corner stores pass by him in a blur. 

Throughout the two hours of his reckless jog, where he mixed up directions multiple times, his mind is starting to clear up little by little. He’s happy because of what Soyeon told him, and he feels relieved upon seeing the familiar college building. He’s not allowed in dorms at this time, but he’s done this too many times to get caught. Except he was drunk in those instances, and being on MDMA was different. Sneaking past security was tough because he couldn’t bring himself to tiptoe without making so much noise. When they glanced at him, he thought it to be the only choice to just run past them. He’s in the elevator by the time they catch on, and the numbers look wonky in his eyes but he presses the button for the right floor. 

He’s shifting his weight repeatedly in an attempt to contain his excitement; he wants to see you so bad. The moment he hears the ding of the elevator, he’s running past the halls and stops upon seeing 124. He has to squint, but he knows this is your dorm. 

You wake up with a silent gasp when there’s a pound on the door. You clutch your sheets in fear until someone starts to sing your name. “Jungkook?” you mouth to yourself. You stand up and look through the peephole and there’s a man on the other side who’s bouncing on his feet impatiently.

“Open up,” he sings loudly. You’re worried when you swing the door open and yank him inside so he doesn’t wake up any other students. You try to talk but only a wheeze comes out, so you switch on the light to see him instead. The brightness hurts your eyes as you close them for a few seconds. “Well, well, well, look who we have here…”

He starts to circle around you slowly and stumbles behind you. “Sending people to spy on me after rejecting me like that.” His words are slightly slurred and you turn around to face him with a pout. You point at your throat to give him a hint, but his eyes don’t waver from your pleading ones. “What are your intentions, huh?” he weakly pushes you, “Sending me mixed signals. Who- who do you think you are?”

You hold his hands and place them on your neck, trying to communicate with him by mouthing, “I’m sick,” but he only chuckles. He seems sickeningly joyous, but he’s not over his anger. “Still not going to talk to me? What did I even do?”

You deeply inhale from your nose because he’s not paying attention to you. You’re frustrated with yourself until he yells, “WHY WON’T YOU TALK TO ME?” The surge of serotonin, his state of euphoria is crashing down on him the more you ignore him. He had believed the drug would only make him happy, but it intensified his sadness and anxiety just as much when he saw you. It helped him forget you in a social circle, but you confused him so much after he was reassured for so long - coupled with your silence, he’s raging.

“Why are you ignoring me?! What did I do that was so bad that you can’t bear talking to me anymore? You told me you loved me, please,” he chokes and tries to swallow the lump in his throat. “I-I’ll make it up to you, I’m so sad right now. Just say something…”

You’re watching him in shock and a hint of fear from his fluctuating mood. You want to cry at how pitiful he looks, but instead you aim to grab a piece of paper from your bedside table. He misreads your actions and pushes you against the wall. “Stop this. Stop!” He has your arms pinned and he’s trying so hard to intimidate you so you give in. A dry sob leaves you because he's going mad, but then he has a sudden epiphany. “Maybe you’ll love me again if I fuck you hard enough and engrave it in your brain that you’re mine. Yes, yes!”

He starts unbuckling his belt and you immediately try to stop him; he’ll get sick! He shoves you again and pulls down his jeans before mashing his mouth against yours. All of your efforts have gone to waste when his tongue forces its way down your throat. There’s no point to denying him now, so you hesitantly kiss him back. You’re so guilty, and he’s so careless as he roughly pushes his hand down your white cotton shorts. You’re wearing a navy blue sweater to match so you don’t get cold in the night, but the shorts are meant to prevent a fever. What’s the point now, then? He hasn’t even read your texts that you only remembered to send before sleeping. He missed a whole paragraph of your explanation and confronted you so angrily.

“I’m going to fuck you all night,” he growls against your lips, “then you’ll remember how much you love me.” Your moans are quiet and hitched as he presses down on your clit through your panties. His other hand is on his cock as he strokes it eagerly, ready to get inside you. “I missed you so fucking much in one day,” he whispers in a croak. Hearing it makes you feel even warmer inside as you nudge his hand to urge him to enter you. “You missed me too, huh?” he takes notice of your neediness. “Shouldn’t have fucking brought it upon yourself then.”

He removes his hand from your shorts and taps your thighs before demanding, “Jump.” You bite your lip in consideration until he taps them harder and you quickly wrap your legs around his waist. Your shorts are relatively short, resembling loose boxers, so when your back is pressed against the wall he only pushes them and your underwear to the side before thrusting into you. A scream gets caught in your throat, and you forget all about your aches as he roughly fucks into you without caring for protection or lube. It stings only slightly, but the pleasure in feeling so full of him outweighs the pain.

Jungkook is moaning and groaning as he bruises your thighs in his hold. Your panting is all he can catch, and though the feeling of you is an amplified sensation because of the drug coursing in his system, he wants to hear you chant his name as well. “Still quiet?” he tuts and carries you to your narrow bed and you cling onto his shoulder while trying to catch your breath after the sudden attack. “Your cunt is throbbing though,” he says as he pulls out of you and drops you on the bed. He manhandles you by flipping you on your stomach and holds up your ass. He finally takes off your bottom clothing, but he’s slightly dizzy as he yanks them off your ankles. He spreads your thighs apart and you’re on your knees with your head against the mattress. “I wonder why that is,” he says before slapping your pussy, making you whimper quietly. “So wet, yet you don’t even make a sound. Some whore you are.” You purse your lips and muster a whine, but it’s interrupted when he pistons his cock inside you without warning. Your sounds are hoarse as he pounds into you from the back, hands kneading your ass to the shape of his hands. He gives it a spank as he moans loudly; the new position makes it feel so much more intense, and Jungkook loves it. His ears finally get to hear your pathetic mewls as he thrusts so deeply inside you that your vision blurs with tears and your eyes roll to the back of your skull. You feel like a doll that can’t speak or move, and he’s evidently enjoying it going by his rushed pace. You’re challenging him with your silence, and he loves proving himself.

All of a sudden however, he stops moving. You look behind you with a pout and he quirks a brow at you. You grit your teeth because you know he's waiting for you to tell him to continue, or rather daring you to do something. A sudden surge of confidence overcomes you and you gently slam your hips against his, fucking yourself on his cock with your eyes screwed shut.

“Yes, baby,” he strains, “show me that you're still my good girl.” At his encouragement, you meet his thrusts faster and you're seeing stars at how amazing it feels. You want to be his good girl so bad, and you arch your back to savour the pleasure. “Your pussy is mine, all mine,” he affirms to himself and stills your hips to turn you around without removing his length. His fingers are digging into your flesh and your tits bounce under the fabric as he rams into you restlessly. Your mouth is open in a silent scream and he can barely make out your pupils, the whites of your eyes stirring his climax at how attractive you look under the poor lighting. “I love you so fucking much,” he cries, “say it back, baby.”

You try to, but you can only dryly cough. “You fucking bitch,” he hisses at your defiance and pulls out of you to pump his length. He’s close to his release, and he pushes up your sweater to see your hard nipples that make him salivate. He crawls to slide his cock between the valley of your breasts and it hurts when he harshly pushes them together. “Stick out your tongue,” he commands in a whisper, and you do so while panting like a dog. Every time he thrusts upwards, the tip of his head grazes your tongue and leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. He’s massaging your tits as he stutters between whines, and eventually his load spurts out to land on your chest and cheek with a particularly loud groan. His cum surges down his shaft as he rides out his high with the last slow thrusts. 

“Oh fuck,” he sighs airily and collapses next to you in the tiny space available. You clumsily turn on your side to give him more room and he pecks your swollen lips. He zips his pants back up and you’re still naked from the waist down. You’re staring at each other adoringly in the romantic, fragile atmosphere; another first.

“I love you,” you croak finally. It’s quieter than a whisper, and it makes you cringe at how hideous you sound; it’s painful as well.

His face lights up once he registers your words before noticing the tone. “What happened to your voice?”

“Sick.” You can’t bring yourself to say anything more as you snuggle into his side and he instinctively wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“Shit,” he murmurs, “why didn’t you tell me that sooner, idiot?”

You slap a hand on his front pocket where his phone is, and he hastily takes it out to see a bunch of notifications from you. “You sent it at night, you’re still the idiot.” You giggle and roll your eyes. “A promise is a promise, though,” he purrs before cupping your bare heat. “I did say I would fuck you all night.” You widen your eyes when his head lowers down to face your sopping wet cunt, and he slowly licks up a stripe over your soaked folds, making you shudder and grip his hair. He’s leaving kitty licks all over your sensitivity, the tip of his tongue lightly brushing against your clit every now and then. Your hips lift involuntarily, and he finally takes your clit in his mouth and sucks on it loudly. He slurps your arousal before spitting it back on your hood, and you can only squeak in response. Your hazed mind only tells you that you want more, and he doesn’t fail to provide.

Two fingers enter your clenching hole, and he’s scissoring your walls as he messily eats you out. The pleasure from earlier returns all too soon and you know you won’t be able to last long. His lids are hooded when you glance down at him and the way he’s looking at you makes it even harder to resist your orgasm. The knot in your stomach picks back up right before unraveling and your moan is raspy as you start twitching under his relentless mouth. He grows gentle and leaves kisses all over your vulva until your body falls limp on the sheets.

After another round of penetrative sex, the two of you fall asleep from exhaustion in your bed. It’s a first for the both of you, and Jungkook decides in his drunken mind that tonight won’t be the last. It feels so intimate when he cuddles you, and you won’t ever forget his love confession.

The next morning is not so pleasant however, as Jungkook wakes up with a loud sneeze and in his now nasal voice says, “God fucking damn it.”

[shadowturtlesstuff]

You belong with me

so i decided to post wadsworth first. modern au cressworth- you belong with me taylor swift

Thomas throws his phone down on the bed with frustration swirling around him as he paces. I set down my pen and wait till he turns and spots me. We often find ourselves talking via paper throughout the nights, from questions about our day to helping each other study. It is also often we watch each other be angry at something, yet I've not seen him this bad before. Finally Thomas turns and catches my eye. He stands there for a second before smiling and I quickly move around my various workbooks till I find my notebook I use to talk to him. I take my sharpie and write: ‘Are you okay?’

I watch him shake his head ever so slightly, seemingly baffled at it, but he walks to his window and opens it. The wind brushes his deep brown hair and I can't help but want to reach out and run my hand through it. I curse myself for it as he motions for me to open my window. Moving my books and pens off of me and cursing at my stiff leg as I go and open the window. Somehow I manage to hit my arm in the process and I curse, which makes Thomas laugh slightly so I forgive my body for hurting me. 

“You have a wicked mouth Wadsworth. Did you not learn cursing is unlady-like?” he teases and I relax slightly because of it.

“Fuck you,” I scowl at his smirk and the frigid wind. His eyes light up at my temper. We live across from one another, if we were to reach out we could hold hands. Which we have done. When I got rejected from the specific school I was desperate to go to, Thomas had managed to climb into my room and hold me as I cried. He's only ever needed to climb over twice to cheer me up, the other times have been to study or watch some romance programme he thought was good. I hoped wherever was troubling was something that wouldn't resort to me having to climb over. As much as I would want to, my brain may have a hard time letting me attempt it. 

“I assume dear Wadworth, you want to ask what has made me so irate?” he asks, eyes focused on behind me and fingers tapping his window sill as he sits. I watch as his cat, ridiculously named Sir Isaac Mewton, jumps off his bed and onto his seat next to him. He grabs the cat and kisses the top of his head before holding him in his lap.

“Perhaps,” I say, moving so I rest my head on the wall, “perhaps I merely wanted to ask if Sir Issac was okay.” his eyes shift to mine and despite him still being angry they soften at my attempt at humour. I am not as good as Thomas at using humour to help someone, but he always does it for me. 

“Really? You always refer to him as a little pest, whereas as with me, I am your dearest person, of course you want to know how I am feeling. My son is good though, very energetic today.” he smiles down at his cat. I remember the day he brought him home, he made me go over to his house and we spent all night playing with him. Thomas did, I ended up studying and making notes for the both of us while he gave Sir Isaac a ‘grand tour’ of his new home. The smile vanishes off Thomas's face and once again his gaze goes past me. “I assume you saw the call, well that was William. Yes, awful. Apparently though, there is a rumour that I'm with Miss Whitehall. I don't even remember her first name, but he was convinced of our relation despite my protests. Madness.” I watch him scoff, anger once again taking over his features. His cat nuzzles into him and Thomas leans into his cat. If I wasn't also mad now I'd smile at the sight. 

“Is this the same William that had convinced everyone I was dating him?” 

“Yes.”

“Bitch. Why on earth is he such a problem? Where on earth does he even make this assumptions about us?'' I find myself standing and pacing, trying to quell my own rising anger. A year ago, William had been my lab partner for a few weeks, he was friendly, but people had got it in their head that we were somehow together, and he went with it. Gossiped about me, even Thomas, and then was somehow enraged I dared to stop those rumours and be angry at him. I'd come home one day when it was particularly too much, when my father had found out and lectured me about it, as though I was in the wrong for standing up for myself. He'd cancel my lesson with my uncle out of spite, and I stormed upstairs. Thomas had been at the window, as if he was expecting me. One look at his face made me cry. I managed to open my window and he'd once again climbed in and held me as I cried. Then he made us watch this awful romance film together and held me still as I fell asleep on him. 

“I have never once,” Thomas says, dragging me back from those awful memories, “shown interest in her, nor will I ever.” He drags a hand through his hair. “She's just- a lot.”

I huff a sigh. She is awful. Had been awful to Liza and I for years. With her short skirts, high heels and the most rotten attitude I have ever witnessed. It wasn't often that I'd hate someone like that, someone so different from me in nearly every way, but she has tried to make me feel that I don't belong because of my interest in science and not the traditional girl interests.. “That is the understatement of the year Cresswell. Beside, you wouldn't work, she's too- your,” I have no idea how to explain how excellent Thomas is, how wonderful his mind is and how kind he is. It's not a side he shows to most, yet if he was ever with someone like Whitehall, it would be disastrous. I take my seat again and find him looking at me, suppressing a smirk and raising an eyebrow at me. “What?” I ask. I shrink under his gaze, pulling my hoodie over my legs as I curl in on myself. 

“I’m what? I'd be delighted to know your innermost thoughts of me, Wadsworth.”

“Your absurd but fine I'll elaborate,” I roll my eyes as he shifts so he is fully facing me, eyes completely focused, no sign of the anger he had only moments ago, “your too kind, too witty and clever and Whitehall wouldn’t appreciate you enough. You-” don’t belong with her.

Ever since he mentioned the idea of being with someone else, real or not, I have tried to ignore how much it pained me that he would be with someone else. I never expected to want to be with him, yet lately the premise of dating him has seemed very pleasing to me.

“You forgot to mention how handsome I look, or how charming I am, but I'll take it,” his voice is deeper than normal and his gaze travels over me even though his eyes are on my own. Thomas pats Sir Issac and his cat jumps off behind him with a whine. His hand reaches out for mine and I lean forward, wind making my loose strands of hair fly across my face. His hands are warm as I take them but his smile warms me more. It is small but genuine and filled with the normal Cresswell charm mixed with something I can't quite name. 

“I don’t need to inflate your ego further Thomas.” 

“I know but it would've been nice. I did say the inner most thoughts but we’ll get there. Audrey rose-” he looks down contemplating his words before he once again locks his gaze on mine, his dark brown eyes bright, “I dont belong with her, your right, my heart would never belong to her especially since it already belongs to someone else.” 

I blink at the honesty. I want to scream that you belong with me; but if Thomas is in love with someone else then I suppose I will have to find a way to deal with it. I try to keep the hurt of my face even as he smiles at me. 

“I-” Thomas lets go of my hand and stands. There's a silence between us until he motions for me to move. The idiot is going to climb into my house so he can tell me about his new found love. Like the fool I am, I'm going to let him talk about this girl who makes him look this happy. Even though it hurts that it's not me who is making him look like that. Even though I'm the one who makes him laugh when he is angry or upset. Even though I'm the one who knows his favourite songs, the books beside his bed and all his hopes and dreams.

He climbs over and sets himself on the window sill, giving me room to sit across from him. I do, even as I try to ignore the weight pressing down on my chest. “I hope you are happy with whomever has your heart Cresswell.” I say and mean it. I once again curl into myself, hoodie covering my legs as i watch him continue to smile at me, 

“Of course I'll be happy. She's amazing. Let me tell you all about her. I met her many years back and was instantly smitten with her emerald eyes and her quick witted mind. How she sings to herself every morning and how her dark curls fall across her face whenever she sits on her bed and reads. I adore her curiosity for the dead and how wicked her mouth is and how delightful it is to watch your mind at work. I love when she shows me a note through the window to see if I'm doing okay and-”

“Wait,” I blurt out, my mind catching up, “Thomas, are you talking about me?”

“Yes, finally! I thought I'd have to keep speaking forever till you realized it was you.” He starts laughing at my gaping mouth until I collect myself enough to scowl at him slightly for laughing. Thomas reaches out for my hand, moving closer to me until my back is pressed against the wall, my hoodie no longer over my legs as he rests his other hand on my leg, warmth seeping through me. “Wadsworth, darling, I have been in love with you for some time now.” 

Silence washes over us as we stare, trying to convince ourselves this is really happening. “I have something to show you.” My voice is barely about a whisper and I slide out of his grasp even though I don't want to. I walk to my bed where all my notebooks were left open and my notebooks sits. I open it out and let a piece of paper fall out. Facing Thomas I open the sheet slowly, watch him read the words. His eyes lit up at them.

I love you.

I take my place beside him again, his hands finding their way in mine once again. “I wrote that the night after you came here the second time. Something in me clicked that no matter what you'd find a way to comfort me. Not save me, but work alongside me. I wanted to tell you I just couldn't face it. But I needed to acknowledge it. So I wrote it down, and I look at it every time we use the note system; I try to convince myself to show you.” Thomas just stares at me, eyes flicking down to my lips every now and then. His hands are making circles on my leg, not entirely intentional. Thomas has always shown if he is excited or nervous by either tapping or making shapes on surfaces. The world slows completely as he leans in and presses his lips against mine. He pulls back ever so slightly, resting his head against mine and we are both smiling wildly at each other, pressing kisses until he leans further away. Thomas goes back to his side of the wall, which may as well be across the other side of the world, then he pulls me to him and I twist so that my back is against his. He holds me as we both look out the window, enjoying the freeing feeling of telling each other how we feel. 

“Now would be a perfect time to tell me how handsome I am, my love.” 

@fangirling-again @kittycat2187 @goatahoan @city-of-fae @the-hoofflepooff @padfoot-sirius-black-blog @purplecreatorhorsewagon @boredbookwormgirl @goddess-of-writing-wars @lovecakeandmore ​ @yikesitsmaddie @loveyatopluto​ @throneofsc @bookscressworth​

[cedricslover]

Troubled (final)

Pairing: Cedric Diggory x Fem! Reader

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5 

Series summary: A very unfortunate situation happened and it resulted in very unfortunate events. You had everything, a good boyfriend that everyone dreamed of, best friends that you got in a twin pack, and a loving school. It was a calm before a storm and in your sixth year the storm came. You faced the consequences your deceased parents run from, you were only left with your only family, your little brother. What would you do in order to save him? The answer is, everything, even if it means joining a terrorist group of wizards, joining THE DEATH EATERS…

Chapter Summary: Death is inevitable 

Note: there is no specific house:))) I would like to thank everyone that kept waiting and was patient enough, I started this series around March and now it is May. This is my very first series and I hope you all liked it! Again thank you so much❤❤

Warnings: angst, death, little bit of violence

Word Count: 4.2k

You stopped in front of a headstone. Your hair brushing your cheeks as the wind blew it. "Hey" you started talking, through the years the big lump in your throat slowly fades whenever you visit. "It must be nice there" you smiled and placed the flowers that you were holding down to the ground. 

You breathed in the familiar smell of the field. The smell of the countryside was really different from London. Closing your eyes, memories of the past came flooding in. 

[5 years ago]

"WHAT?" Phoebe, one of your roommates looked at you with shock, "what?" You chuckled as you ate a chocolate frog. 

"What do you mean "what"? So we're just going to act like we didn't see Diggory in front of our dorm earlier" Alice rolls her eyes as she brushes her blond hair, "Oh yeah we got back together" you shrugged and sat on your bed. 

"You really won't tell us what happened that broke the two of you?" Phoebe's voice became wary, she was trying not to say something bad. You shake your head and smile apologetically. "I'm sorry girls" you felt bad. You wanted to tell them of course, but even your best friends since first year don't even know. And surprisingly didn't even nag you about it. 

"It's alright doll, we understand. Besides, Diggory is a great guy, you two are both smart enough to know what is right and wrong" Alice looks at you, there is always comfort in her eyes. Like she always knows what is going on even if you don't talk. She was the perfect example of the person that you can vent to and she will just listen. 

"How about you girls, anything going on with your lives? Why is it always mine?" You laid down and stared at the ceiling. Silence filled the room. For about 10 minutes only the brushing of the tip of the quill to a parchment, breathing, and the noise from the common room are the only sounds you heard.

"Nothing much" you heard a bed squeaked, it was probably Phoebe's. "My life is the most boring one yet" Alice mutters and sighed,  you can see her sitting on her bed. "I don't think so. Each of our lives have different stories. I don't think that's boring" you replied before you pulled your blanket and be completely eaten up by darkness. 

Weeks have passed, it seemed to be doing great. Everything was falling back to pieces. After the school found out that you and Cedric got back together, George and the Beauxbaton girl also publicized their relationship, both of them explained that it really wasn't you in the photograph-which you completely didn't want them to do because you didn't owe anyone any explanation- but they still did. 

Fred and Angelina seemed to be also doing great, well, especially how Fred is under Angelina. 

Of course Barty Jr.-that's disguising as Professor Moody was always giving you 'the look'. Everytime and everywhere, even at class, even your classmates find it strange why Professor Moody always calls you, and then gets mad. They feel bad but you just let it all go, because you knew what his true colors are. 

"Fred" she warns

"Frederick Gideon" with her scary tone

"Frederick Gideon Weasley" that's when you all know Fred was in trouble. 

"Hello darling" you smiled and kissed Cedric's lips before you sat beside him at the library. You both have free time, especially him, tomorrow was the final task, he was trying to study spells that he might use.   

"Hey" he stops reading and wraps his arms around your waist, "Tired" he murmurs while he buries his head on your neck. "You want to eat sumthin'?" You asked while playing with his fluffy hair, running your fingers through his scalp. "No" you can feel his breathing on your neck, it sends shivers down your spine. 

After a while of complete silence, Cedric's breathing seemed to follow a pattern, that's when you knew he was asleep, in your arms. 

You started humming a song that your mum used to sing you to sleep. You can't see his face, but felt it instead, his nose, his lips, his forehead, it felt peace. It felt like home. 

And later on, you also found yourself getting sleepy, your eyelids drooping down. And before you give up on the warmth, your eyes found the book-or more like a magazine that Cedric was reading earlier, you didn't notice it earlier until now. You let out a smile before you closed your eyes.

'Real Estate Magazine, Countryside Edition'

You woke up early, dressed up early, showered early, and went to get breakfast early, and you didn't expect that a lot of students were up early too. Earlier than usual.

"Y/N!" You turned your head while you chewed a toast. It was the trio. "Hey" you greeted them as they sat in front of you. "You alright?" You looked at them while your forehead creased, "yeah" they all answered in unison, that caught them off guard. 

"Harry's going to be fine don't worry" you shake your head and smile as you reach for another toast. "It's just that-" Harry stopped and his hand went to his forehead, where the scar is. 

"His scar's been hurting ever since he woke up" Ron told you, his face was screaming with worry, just the same as Hermione. 

"You should take a rest Harry. You still have til before dusk. I think that would be enough time to prepare and rest" you said, trying to cover the worry in your voice, and of course the fear. 

You four continued to eat, the Great Hall was starting to get more crowded, noise, banners, cheers, they were all anticipating who will win the triwizard tournament. Although you should be joining this crowd, wearing shirts with the one they support, cheering, waving the banners at 8 am. You can't. You were filled with worry, Harry's scar was hurting, and it seemed strange that the Dark Lord wasn't doing anything the whole year. 

And as you walked by Moody's office, it seemed like your suspicions were answered. 

"I already handled it, Dark Lord. Yes, yes, but how about the girl?" You heard Moody, he was rather loud, obviously he used the opportunity as most of the students would be either outside or the Great Hall.

"She wouldn't be a nuisance, we have his brother. She will be extremely useful for the next few years. She has much more potential than her parents. Let her bloom Barty" a faint voice answered him, that was the reason Harry's scar was hurting since this morning. Mere communication can still cause it, you knew he couldn't possibly be physically here. 

"What if Harry wouldn't be the one touching the cup?" Moody's voice was filled with excitement but at the same time, fear. 

"I'll kill them. And you next. Better do your job Barty." The voice disappeared. Your eyes widened as you heard footsteps slowly approaching the door. You ran to the closest hiding spot and peeked. 

"Better handle that girl then" Moody looked around before he drank again from his flask. "Polyjuice Potion" you whispered as you observed him. 

He walked away, to the direction you came from, you waited until you made sure he was gone. 

"Mad-Eye Moody!" You started banging the trunk where Moody was prisoned, your hands shaking as you got the key from one of the drawers. 

"Moody!" You banged again, panting, your sweat started dripping. Your heart was beating fast, you have to do something. You sure don't know anything, but Moody surely does. 

You finally opened the last layer of it and saw that he was there, peering back at you, he was thinner than the last time you saw him. And he lost a lot of hair too. 

He seemed mad, of course, you were the only person inside the castle that knew the Professor Moody that was going around the school the whole year was an imposter, well aside from Cedric who was suspicious.

You started explaining to him, now this was the person that deserved your explanation, not the gossip people. 

It took a while before he finally understood. He must be thirsty and hungry, but you didn't bring any food but only your wand. You looked for any container and luckily you saw a flask, it must have been a spare Polyjuice Potion, you threw the insides away.

"Aguamenti" you chanted and the flask started to be filled with clean water. You cleaned the mess you made and returned it from what it was when you entered before you slowly dropped the flask to Moody who was now drinking it like he hadn't drank any water for a whole week.

"I cannot hear clearly, but I heard Little Hangleton. You know that right?" You nodded at his question. "I don't know what and how, but they would try to bring the Dark Lord back. In power" he looks directly at your eyes, his gaze was piercing, he was expecting you to do something. And you will. 

"I'll be back" the last words you said to him before you slowly closed the trunk, he nods slightly for a response, there was also something in his look, the same look you saw with your parents when they were about to die, the same look you saw with the people of the Order, it was a look of hope and pride. 

"Hey hey" you stopped on your tracks and it snapped you back into reality, you didn't know what to do, "Y/N?" Cedric cupped your face, you looked at his eyes, his questioning eyes. "What's wrong, love?" He tucked strands of hair from your face to behind your ear. Your breathing started to calm down. 

"They're moving Ced, I have to do something" you admitted, there was no point in keeping it a secret to him. His jaw dropped, he was now looking everywhere, trying to be cautious. 

"What can I do to help?" He asks, you felt bad, and it seemed like he noticed it. "Don't feel bad, Y/N. You already carried too much burden, at least let me help you carry it" his mouth curves as he assures you. "It will all be okay" he whispers, still not letting go of your face.

You were still doubting, but he was persistent. "Protect Harry. Help me protect Harry, Ced" your eyes darted to him, both of you knew this was a life and death situation. This wasn't just those silly games you played before, you both only had one chance to save a life, and this was it. 

"I will" he nods, there was more than just the tournament in his mind now. And that is to protect Harry. At all costs.

You observed Harry the whole time before the task, ofcourse, not being so obvious. You would join the three of them at some point, or drag Harry with you and the twins as they show the fireworks that they made and plan to light up when he wins or Cedric. 

It was a win-win, Harry forgets that bloody scar while you keep an eye on him. 

And now, it was Cedric's turn. 

He kissed your forehead and gave you a little smile. "You did well. Let me take over" he said before he turned his back and let go of your hand. Amos waited for him and waved in your direction. The corners of your mouth turned up, trying to be nice to him, despite how you somehow despised because of how he always pressures his son, he always has to do this, reach this, be like this. It was not healthy. 

You knew he was trying to be a good parent, but you wished he had taken lessons from your father before he died. Thankfully Mrs. Diggory was nice enough to appreciate Cedric's achievements, small or big. 

"You alright?" Alice asked you as you sat at the bleachers. "Quite" you smiled at her and returned your gaze to the champions. You were with Alice now, well long story short, the twins were with their girlfriends, even Phoebe, and Alice invited you to join her so here you are now. You know Alice is beautiful, she is also great in academics, even she and Luna Lovegood could really pass as siblings, they have the same interest in things that were believed to be not there, and even their way of clothing were the same. But they both confirmed that they were not related. Still, you were still quite confused as to why she was not out there, having a partner. 

"You know that guy?" She pointed to Gregory Goyle's older brother. "Yeah?" There were lines forming between your eyebrows. "He asked me out" she giggled and covered her mouth with her hand, her shoulders started shaking, you also laughed. "What really?" You asked in disbelief, you tried your best not to laugh out loud.

You hated Goyle, he always bullies the ones that he believed was weaker, even Alice. He always made fun of Alice and how she always tries to get people's attention. Now look how the tables have turned.

"He asked me out with those cheesy pick up lines, doll. I tried my best not to laugh and just rejected him immediately" you were both still laughing. She stated some of the pick up lines that made you laugh so much but you still tried not to be loud so in the end, you choked on your own saliva while she stifled a laugh as she pats your back.

The laughter seemed to be a curse, bad luck, or just joy before a disaster. Because right after that you all saw a yellow light sparked to the sky, it was from someone in the maze. 

You were the only one who was not confused, because as that yellow spark flashed, it was a message for you.

'He is safe. Cedric's with him' 

Red sparks were seen earlier, it must have been a marker for the injured ones, but the Yellow ones, the audience and judges didn't know what it meant, only you.

You started praying to the higher ups, if they were ever there, listening to you. You prayed that they would be fine. Only a few scratches, but still good. After just a few minutes another yellow spark was seen, the people decided to shrug it off, but you, you were beyond happy and relieved. The second spark should mean that they got to the cup. They should be arriving any second now. 

You anxiously waited for them, ten seconds, twenty, thirty, and then a minute and they weren't still here. 

'Little Hangleton' 'Back in power' ‘Dark Lord’ 'Coming Back' 'Do your job' 'Kill' 

Voices started to cloud in your mind, Moody, Barty Jr., Voldemort, memories, you patched up the information you got. 

And without even thinking twice you disapparated, thankful that Dumbledore lifted the anti-disapparition charm because there were a lot of outsiders anticipating the third task.

You grunted as you stumbled, you hated how apparition makes your insides like they were being squeezed. It was convenient of course, but you didn't like it. 

"Kill the spare"  you heard, your vision was still dizzy, but you knew that voice. Your vision was blurry, the world was spinning and it felt like your intestines were spinning too. It was the after effect of apparating. 

You stood up, still feeling nauseous, “NOOO!” you shouted as you ran, there were figures and you knew who they were. “Avada Kedavra!” it was definitely Pettigrew, no, not Cedric, not me, not Harry, don’t kill us, please, the words repeated in your mind. The few steps felt like a hundred, you wanted to stop time, and as you rushed towards the figures your vision was slowly being clear. And by the time you can entirely see clearly, you wished, you hoped, that someone blinded you, you wished that this was a dream, hallucination, but as you collapsed on your knees, as the rough ground kissed your legs, it was all real.

“Alice...” tears started to fall from your face as you looked at her face. Her reddish cheeks was now white, her lively eyes was now soulless, her warmth, 

It’s gone, she’s gone. 

“YOU!” You stood up, picking up your wand, Cedric stood beside you, “Free Harry” You commanded him, your nose was now flaring, glaring at the two figures in front of you, Peter Pettigrew carrying the weak Voldemort. 

“Expulso!” you incant, in a snap, Voldemort was now dropped to the ground while Pettigrew was far away, “I’ve had enough of you. You and your values” you stared at Voldemort who was now crawling away, he was so weak, and this was the only time you could do it. The only time you could take revenge from all the lives he took.

“You’re so weak, and you should stay weak” You stepped on his thin legs, he screeched like a creature tortured, “You deserve, every, single, pain” now you stomped on his hand, you felt the bone touch the sole of your feet despite wearing shoes. 

“Sectumsempra!” you cried at his pleading face, you thanked that potions book you saw in the classroom. You watched as so blood just came out from the child like figure in front of you, for a second you thought you were doing something beyond your morals, but you remembered, the images of people that this person-no- monster killed, the mothers, fathers, sons, daughters, and friends, he took away so many lives, he made the world like his playground, killing whoever he felt to kill, and that justified what you did. Regret was not even near. 

“Incarcerous” Cedric’s voice echoed, the tense was back again, Pettigrew was still here, “We’ll take care of him” he told you, giving a second to glance at the lifeless Voldemort that was on the ground, curled, you nodded as an approval. 

And like a vase dropped, or someone threw a big stone to your head, you remember Alice's bleeding body, her opened eyes but why? Why is there a ghost of a smile plastered on that doll-like face?

You slowly walked to her lying body, you never expected that this would happen, that she, she would do something like this. Did she just suddenly hold your arm as you disapparated? Is that why she splinched, her arms, even her legs were bleeding. 

“Dumbass, did you even know where I was going.” you kneeled, reached for her face and removed the strands of hair that were blocking her face. “You’re so dumb. Who’s going to call me doll anymore” you blinked and a tear fell straight to her cheek, you blinked again, another tear fell, you blinked, again and again, and at the same time, tears fell on her pale face, you cried, wailed, even shouted while hugging her body. 

She was there when you needed her, she was there to understand you. She was there when you cried, laughed, even if you were sick, she was there. 

“Doll, come here.” Alice called you while you were packing your things, you were a mess, you just heard that your mother was ill, you have to go home. You sighed and let go of the clothes and walked towards her, she tapped the seat in front of the mirror. 

“You know, you should always look tough in front of the people you have to protect. That’s what my parents told me before. The people that saved them from the Death Eaters, they were tough, I told you about that right?” she started brushing your hair, you examined your reflection, your eyebags were visible, you were also definitely thinner than usual, you felt drained. 

“Before my ma died, she told me information about those who saved them. My ma and pa owe their life to them.” even if you didn’t look at her face, you know she was smiling. “She told me that when they were being saved, the woman was pregnant” you can feel the gentleness from her touch. 

“And?” you asked, she was now tying your hair, “and she told me to protect that child, a token of gratitude for giving my ma and pa another tomorrow” she placed the flower accessories in your hair. 

“Did you protect the child?” you turned to her and saw her eyes twinkled, “I still am doll” she replied to you before she handed your bag. Alice used magic to help you pack, you laughed and hugged her, “Thank you” your mouth curved into a smile. “Aww it’s nothing” she waves her hand and rolls her eyes, acting shy. “Shut up” you chuckle before you turn your back and step outside. 

“You impulsive lady, how about that child you should protect. How can you protect them if you’re dead” You were still crying, thinking about all the memories you had with her, and how you would tell Phoebe, she would be heartbroken. 

Was it really necessary? Are sacrifices really necessary? You just wanted to stop a war, a cycle, you wanted to follow the path your parents took, are deaths really necessary? In exchange for peace, a life should be taken. A meaningful life, someone's daughter, friend, and stranger. 

[present]

“Y/N!” a woman’s voice called you, you turned your head and saw a woman, her hair was now just above her shoulder, brown curls jumping as she walked the hill. “Phoebe” you greeted and opened your arms, she sprinted and hugged you. 

“Oop, be careful with the tummy” you grinned and touched your tummy, there was already a big bump, you were pregnant. “Hello there little one” she lowered herself and talked to your bump. 

“It’s her death anniversary isn’t it” she straightened herself and was now staring at the headstone. 

     Alice Constance O’Brien

March 12, 1978 - June 24, 1995

“Hmm” you answered, peace and silence enveloped the both of you. “It was Alice all along.” sadness took over your face as you remembered what Alice has done for you. 

  Loving daughter and friend

                A hero 

“Ced that night when you saw me following the man. Why were you still roaming?” you asked Cedric as he sat at the library.

“I haven’t told you yet? It was the Head Boy, well technically it was Alice actually, she told me that the head boy couldn’t find me so he asked her to tell me. My schedule changed that time” he muttered as he chewed a pumpkin pasty. Your eyebrows shot up and just shrugged. You owe Alice an acid pop at Hogsmeade.

“She was the one who told me about your situation. She must have known about the dark mark but never told us. She wanted to help you, but in the shadows.” Remus admitted as you talked to him about Alice’s death. He was shocked, the whole society members actually. They are now taking care of his subjects that were lurking around. 

“Hello ladies!” George and Fred suddenly appeared, both of them wrapped their arms around each of your shoulders. “Fred. I prefer women, thank you” Phoebe removed Fred’s arm and even tried to dust it off, “Rude” Fred squinted his eyes at her while she just smirked and flipped her hair.

“Where’s your husband and brother?” George asked and also placed flowers at the ground. Now there were a lot of flowers for Alice. “You’re liking that aren’t you?” you talked to the headstone, you were all just silent. Even the loud twins fell in silence, they liked Alice, not romantically, they admired her, how she was unique, always had a voice, and how she stood up for herself. 

“I love it doll” you heard a whisper as the breeze came by, you knew it was her, it had always been her. She was still there, watching. 

“Oh Alice” Phoebe started crying, the twins tried to offer her a hug but she went to you instead, you sniggered as you saw their offended face. 

They all felt her. 

“Hey!” two voices called all of your attention and there it was, Cedric your husband, and your eight year old brother. Theodore hurried to the twins that immediately picked him up, he liked them. “We bought snacks.” Cedric raised a basket and spreaded out a cloth to the grass. 

“Are you crying?” Cedric inspected Phoebe who still has her nose red from crying. “Yes. What about it” she rolled her eyes and got bread from the basket while Cedric was still arranging the cloth. “I’m just asking.” Cedric chuckled and shook his head. 

You observed each and one of them, they all changed, with their own careers and life, of course they will change. Cedric was now working at the ministry, he did once think about being a professional quidditch player, but he felt like a work at the ministry would be better, and he liked it. The twins and their joke shop was still going, stronger as it was before, they’ve built quite the reputation, and Phoebe, she was now a Herbologist, she always had an interest in plants. 

And you, you also built your career, with your dream job. 

Are you seeing this Alice? I made it. We made it. 

You carefully sat at the cloth and they all asked you what you would name the child inside of you. Your eyes gleamed, you always knew that if you had a chance to name your child it would be…

“Alice”

[jaskiersvalley]

so wolves (the animals) show affection to humans in specific and structured ways - if you aren't high enough "ranked" as it were in the pack, you wait until those above you get a chance, essentially. what if witchers are like that and they WANT to show affection to jaskier but they CAN'T because geralt hasn't done it yet and they're like "please tell the bard you like him so i can tease him please i'm going mad" meanwhile jaskiers like "why do they just stand there glaring?"

What a delightful idea, Nonnie! Though I’ll put my hand up and admit I don’t know current theories on wolf pack structure and the like so please brace yourself for a liberal dose of artistic licence that’s about to come.

As was tradition, Jaskier and Geralt went their separate ways for winter. It wasn’t that Jaskier didn’t like Kaer Morhen but he couldn’t spend months on end with four surly witchers in a crumbling old keep that they hated and adored at the same time. No, Jaskier liked his creature comforts and at least his home didn’t have drafts, a library that held more than mouldy old tomes about poisons. Plus, there were people around him, those who appreciated his music, his wit and company. That wasn’t to say that the witchers didn’t but there was a hug difference between a grunt that could mean anything along a spectrum of “play that again and I’ll gut you” to “if you don’t play it again, I’ll gut you”. Jaskier thrived on the feedback of others and quite liked being showered in praise. Then again, who didn’t?

So Jaskier returned home and so did Geralt. He made his path to Kaer Morhen, greeted his fellow wolves as always and settled in for a long, harsh season. The old keep needed a lot of attention and it kept them busy for weeks on end, trying to patch holes in the roof, fill up the cracks in the walls. It was a thankless and never ending task. But at least it was mindless work that allowed them to burn off energy without having to think, no worries or fears about messing up.

On a bland, dark night, Geralt woke from his slumber to a deep rumble and his bed shook. His mind flashed back to the attack of Kaer Morhen and he jumped up, grabbing his sword and igni already warm in his palm as he barged out of his room. He found Eskel backing out of his room, debris in his hair. Before they could talk, the whole keep gave a violent quiver and dust, along with small chunks of stone showered them.

“The keeps coming down!” Eskel growled and, despite all sense, he dashed back into his room.

“Fuck.” Geralt did the same, gathering as much of his meagre possessions as he could. Armour, weapons and potions had to come first. He took a longing look at some of the trinkets Jaskier had given him but knew he couldn’t grab them safely. So he turned, heart heavy and ran, Eskel behind him. They got to the stables for Roach and Scorpion, the horses were panicked and stamping their feet, whinnying in distress.

At least Lambert and Vesemir were outside too by the time they managed to wrangle their horses. From the courtyard, they watched as a tower toppled, crashing through the roof of what had been the pantry and kitchen.

“We need to leave,” Vesemir said. “It’s all collapsing.”

Even as he spoke, cracks appeared under their feet. None of them really remembered much of the next couple of minutes, four witchers and two horses running along a snow laden pass, too focused on surviving to care about twisted ankles or cuts from bramble to cheeks. It was dark, only the moonlight from the clear sky illuminated their way and even with their heightened senses it was a perilous trek. Behind them there was an almighty crack and rumble. Turning as one, they watched the last of Kaer Morhen topple. There was no more home for the School of the Wolf.

“What now?” Lambert asked, sounding more lost than any of them had ever heard before.

They knew they couldn’t stay, winter was too harsh, they didn’t have the resources or the equipment to survive in the remnants of Kaer Morhen. Witchers weren’t welcomed to winter in courts, even taverns were skittish. To house one witcher was almost too much for most. Four of them under one roof was never going to happen.

“Jaskier.” Geralt said and moved to the front of their group, Roach’s rein in hand. “Follow me.”

They walked. Through bitterly cold storms, knee deep snow, pelted by hail, they kept moving. Whenever they encountered a town or village, there was always movement in windows, people curious to watch four bedraggled witchers slog through the elements, dressed in a way a mortal man would have succumbed to winter’s harsh chill already. Yet nobody offered them refuge or even a meal.

When Lambert’s foot got caught on a root and twisted, he ended up being lifted onto Scorpion’s back and they kept going. No mage or healer would see them. Finally, Geralt was leading them down a path to a mansion that looked so warm and inviting, none of the witchers could even imagine going near it, let alone inside. Yet that was where Geralt was headed. He knocked on the fancy door, water frozen into the mess his hair had become. They waited, not daring to hope that maybe someone would answer their call.

The door swung open and a butler looked over them with disdain. However, he stepped aside and gestured them into the warmth.

“Please wait here,” he instructed. “I will fetch you the standards.”

Watching his retreating back, Lambert wriggled to sit down instead of leaning on Eskel. He plopped down with a thump and tipped his head back, appreciating the warmth of being indoors.

“Standards?” Vesemir asked?

“For those in need,” the butler replied as he returned. “We don’t turn anyone away without some help at least. Food and furs.”

“No.” Geralt shook his head. “We’re here to see Jaskier.”

“A lot of people come in the hopes of seeing the master. Everyone wants to bask in his fame.”

“Tell him his wolves are here,” Geralt snapped. He stared down the butler and pulled his medallion from under his cloak, flashing it like some badge.

“I’m afraid that witcher or not, I still cannot permit you more than I would anyone else who comes to ask for help.”

Teeth bared, Geralt lost his patience. He turned towards the stairs and bellowed, “Jaskier! Jaskier get your arse down here!”

There was a clatter from somewhere within the mansion and the sound of rushing feet.

“Geralt! Geralt! You’re here!” Jaskier skidded into the entrance hall, slightly out of breath. “You’re all here! What happened?”

It took Geralt a moment to look over Jaskier, take in how cosy, happy and well he looked. Behind him, the other witchers stared too.

“Kaer Morhen’s gone.”

A hand to his chest, Jaskier took a dramatic step back. “My poor wolves. You had to traverse the continent in such harsh conditions. I am so sorry. Though I offer you shelter and the opportunity to call my humble mansion your new home, you are under no obligation to accept.”

He looked at the other witchers behind Geralt who were all glaring at him and Geralt. That wasn’t a good sign. Maybe Jaskier had missed something or had already managed to offend them within a minute of opening his mouth. That would have to be a new record.

“Geralt,” Eskel wasn’t whining but he was definitely pleading. It was echoed by Lambert who was tugging at Eskel to be helped back up onto his feet.

“Oh!” Jaskier looked over. “You’re hurt. I’ll get a healer over right away.”

Maybe that had been the issue, Jaskier should have been paying more attention. But then even Vesemir joined in with an annoyed “for fuck’s sake Geralt!” that made zero sense.

“What’s going on?” Jaskier asked but didn’t get a verbal answer. However, he was wrapped in two solid arms, still cold from the outside and Geralt was pressing his face into his neck.

“It’s good to see you again,” he murmured to Jaskier and stepped away. Instantly, Vesemir was there, offering his own much more respectable greeting. He was all but bowled out of the way as Eskel and Lambert fought each other like excitable puppies to bundle into Jaskier’s embrace.

It would have been a lie to claim Jaskier understood but he realised that he was Geralt’s first and foremost which gave him some kind of hierarchical right. In the end, Jaskier decided to not worry about it. His concern was making sure his wolves were set up in new, warm and safe rooms, that they were well provided for and Lambert’s ankle was properly healed. While his mansion would never compare to Kaer Morhen, it was maybe the fresh start and a happier place to spend winter for his wolves.

[emerald-amidst-gold]

Ngl whenever I see OC asks I'm tempted to just ask all of them lmao

Buuut, let's see... from the OC creation asks, maybe 12, 15, 19? And for the other one, 1, 8, 52, 69? For any OC you'd like ~

I’m not shitting you when I say, DO IT. 

It’s my favorite time of the day~! Do you think I’ll ever shut up? Not likely, so let’s gooo! >:D 

***

12. What have you found to be most difficult about creating art for your OC (any form of art: writing, drawing, edits, etc.)? 

You know, I always think about this to be fair because it’s something that can be a bit of a block for me when writing any of my OCs since they’re all really different personality wise. Fane, in particular, is a bit of a challenge. Especially when it’s not his POV. He’s hard to explain at times, and it’s why I take so long to create one shots or chapters because I want to make sure I’ve been as clear as possible with him or how other’s perceive him. I have to think in my head, ‘How would such and such really feel about Fane’s personality? How would they respond to his outbursts or his views on the world?’ It takes a lot of reviewing banter from Inquisition and seeing how characters interact with one another for me to confidently piece together dialogue in regards to Fane, and at times, my mind wanders into non canon territory to where I then have to yank it back. Fane lets my mind explore, but the wanderlust gets to be a bit..much. I think so, at any rate. Lol. 

On a more personal level, Fane is also me, in a way. He’s a persona that allows me to express what I tend to go through mentally at times. While it’s a sort of comfort for me to get things off my chest through him, I also have to take a step back and breathe, especially if my mind that day isn’t in the best of places. I mean, I want to write during those times, but it can be incredibly difficult to formulate words with enough sensitivity so it doesn’t hit too hard for anyone else and come off wrong.

15. What is something about your OC can make you laugh? 

I’m gonna use Estoria for this because one thing I’ve created with her always makes me smile and giggle like a madman. That thing is, is the fact that she’s a flirter, but if it’s directed at her then she’s a bumbling fool. She’s all miss big bad mercenary elf until someone says, “You’re eyes are truly a delight.’ and then she just laughs nervously and nearly crumbles into a ball at their feet. 

And you bet your ass that Solas’s smooth talk kills her to where she actively has Cullen syndrome and runs away--tripping and stumbling over her own feet because she can’t. Then, when she does manage to get away she just sits on the floor and goes with all the enthusiasm of a teenager, “He..he thinks I’m graceful? He thinks I’m graceful!” Then she just rolls around on the floor, kicking her legs like a happy little flower. :3

19. What is your favorite fact about your OC?

That Fane has a sweet tooth. Hands down. Man becomes a literal puppy around cake, cookies, anything sweet. I have it in my fluffy little head that he swipes those things from Skyhold’s kitchen without anyone seeing because he’s embarrassed. He’ll try to be all sneaky and slick, but someone always stumbles upon him stuffing his face and then..well, you know. Fane becomes Aterian and Solas has to be called to tame a dragon before the walls come down. *smiles pleasantly*

1.  What is/are your OC’s nickname(s) and how did it come about?

We’ll go down the line for this one!

Fane is ‘Tempest’ due to his ‘calm before the storm’ demeanor when in battle. Varric gave it to him when he saw how fast Fane could move despite his size, and how hard he could hit once closing in. He’s literally a lightning bolt as he’s never in the same place twice and he does it all without batting an eye like how a real storm can destroy everything in its path, but when the clouds part, it’s calm, controlled without a shred of guilt towards the wreckage.

Estoria is ‘Snapdragon’. He adoptive father gave it to her as a sign of affection and to let her know that she is strong, even if the world believes she’s just a delicate little flower to be set on a window and forgotten. It also came about whenever he saw just how fierce a fighter she could be and how passionate she would get towards specific topics--’snapping’ like a dragon does with their treasure hoard or young. 

Mhairi is ‘Snow bird’ or ‘Fawn’. Courtesy of Varric and Dorian! Snow bird is Dorian’s nickname for her and it’s mainly due to her proclivity towards ice magic. Fawn is Varric’s choice due to how wide eyed and curious Mhairi is, like a newborn fawn discovering the world for the first time.

8. How does your OC talk/what does your OC’s voice sound like?

This is Fane’s. Fane’s, Fane’s. Only because I have so many thoughts about his voice that I have to try to explain it! All right, so his voice is deep, obviously. However, it’s gruff, it’s tired, and it rumbles like the softest of thunder. You can take the man out of the dragon, but you can’t take the dragon out of the man. He always has a slight growl to his voice, even if he’s not irritated. He does have an accent, more or less along the lines of what the game gives us, but it’s deeper, has more timbre and husk to it. It drops dangerously low when he’s furious--almost warbling with the natural growl. It jumps a slight octave when he’s flustered--sometimes cracking on specific syllables. When he speaks Elvhen though..well, let’s just say Solas has an existential crisis to where he blanks for a good twenty seconds because how the words just roll near perfectly from a deep, deep, near criminally seductive grave. It’s a good time. *waggles eyebrows*

52. What are some of your OC’s motivations?

Oh god. Well, it is time to try and explain why Fane does the shit that he does! Namely, why the hell he supports the destruction of the Veil, even if he knows it could kill people he loves.

One: Fane is heavily devoted to Solas. Centuries of bonding and losing each other does that, after all. He strives in every fashion to lessen the burden on Solas’s shoulders because he’s seen it happen before. He’s seen and felt Solas practically scream for an end. So, he refuses to abandon him again to that torture, even if he has to bloody his hands from those he had come to consider friends. It’s a difficult road for both of them, but Fane tries to keep a tiny shred of hope in his heart that everything will be okay in the end--that they’ll be okay. He just wants to protect Solas with everything he has, even if it brands him a monster. So, in a way, Solas’s continued presence motivates Fane to keep pushing, even if it’s indirectly.

Two: Fane is passionate towards his kin. He wants to free them from the world they are forced to endure. Another reason for why he supports Solas beyond their close bond. He knows that dragons are needed for the world to survive. So, the thought of his kin being able to show what they are truly made to do is what guides him to endure a lot of the heart break and a lot of the words that are eventually hurled at him. It doesn’t make fighting them any easier though.

Three: Fane is heavily mired with family or those he considers family. He took Mhairi’s place in his father’s experiments because he wanted to protect her, not himself. He throws himself in front of blades, magic that’ll make him ill, and kin bearing claws just to keep those close to him alive because he can’t stand the thought of their eyes going dead and grey. He doesn’t want to kill; he wants to preserve, even if eventually, he’ll have to turn his back because of necessity.

69. What is your OC’s favorite kind of weather?

Fane likes snowy, cold, frigid weather. He was a snowy dragon. Who lived on mountain. Had ice in his lungs. Boy melts in the desert, trust me. Besides that, he just likes the way the world looks when its blanketed with snow and ice. It’s still and quiet. Those aren’t things he’s used to, so he greedily indulges in them when they’re present.

Estoria is the opposite. She loves the heat, but primarily she loves rain. She’ll stand out and just look up at the sky with a huge smile on her face--completely unconcerned that she could get sick. All because it reminds her that the world is still moving along, even if the people in it believe it’s not. It’s still growing, flourishing, thriving, and that gives her comfort and joy.

***

Wowee! That was a lot, but damn was it fun! Thank you for the ask, as always! I can ramble, ramble, ramble like my life depends on it! XD 

[bensakindofmagic]

Chapter Twenty

A/N: yo. so I'm back at uni and work is a little hectic. sorry uploads haven't been as regular, but I'm still loving making these moodboards. keep requesting folks. much love

Warning: angst, swearing

w/c: 2.1k+

Chapter Twenty

You winced as you walked to the kitchen the next morning. Bruises had formed overnight and left your skin mottled, hickeys punctuating them with with red. You still bore Ben’s handprint like a stamp of ownership. It stung sharply as you sat down. 

“Morning my love,” Ben smiled, kissing you on the cheek. “How’re you doing?” 

“A little sore. Sitting is… challenging.” 

“Oh, but you took it so well, princess.”

“Be careful using that name,” you said darkly. It was reserved for very specific circumstances.

He smirked, then asked, “Can I get you an ice pack?”

You shook your head, “No, baby, I’m okay.”

He was particularly affectionate with you that morning, as he always was after nights like that. It was as though he felt he needed to make it up to you, despite the fact that you probably enjoyed it even more than he did. He kissed your forehead as he laid your breakfast in front of you, and stroked your thigh under the table as you ate. He glanced over at you often, and smiled warmly whenever you caught him looking.

“You look beautiful this morning,” he beamed. “Love looks good on you.”

A warm laugh burst out of you like birds from a cage, “That is the cheesiest thing you have ever said!”

You leaned across and wound your hand around the back of his neck, exploring the softness of his skin there. “But I do love you.” When your lips met it was like the setting sun on a summer day in London, golden rays illuminating the divine in what before seemed mundane.

“I love you too,” he cooed. 

He insisted you stay in for the morning, so you sat at the breakfast table for hours. It sometimes still felt like a novelty to be able to just sit with him and talk, not through a phone or a computer screen, not worrying about wifi signal or your responsibilities. Ben’s hand rested lazily on yours, his pinky finger occasionally stroking the back of your hand. Every time he did it you smiled.

You were only interrupted by the buzz of your phone in your pocket, indicating an email. You wouldn’t usually look at work stuff while your were hanging out with Ben, but your body went on auto-pilot as you unlocked your phone and opened the new email in your inbox. 

You froze.  

The job for which you’d speculatively applied months ago, with a big studio in an expensive new franchise, full in the expectation that you wouldn’t get it so had therefore completely forgotten about, had just been offered to you. You had to reread the email four times to make sure you hadn’t got it wrong, or that you weren’t dreaming — which still felt like a distinct possibility because when Ben spoke his voice sounded so distant from you. 

“Y/N? What is it?” 

“I’ve been offered a job,” you said more to yourself than to him. 

“Congratulations,” he smiled, squeezing your hand. “What for?”

“A new sci-fi franchise. It’s three films, back-to-back, with the possibility of promotion if they like me. The shoot starts in a month in LA.” Even saying it out loud didn’t make it seem more real. 

“Oh right. Wow,” he said, distinctly unenthusiastically. Slowly, he retracted his hand, instead clasping it in the other on his lap. 

“This is insane,” you laughed. “I applied for this on a whim, I never actually thought I’d get it.”

“Are you going to take it?” There was a bitterness in his voice that brought you back to yourself.

“I’ve only just got the offer through Ben, I don’t know.” 

“But you want to, right?” 

“Of course I want to. It’s an incredible opportunity for me.” 

He huffed and stood, turning his back on you.

“Opportunity to do what? What are you looking for Y/N?” 

The question stunned you, you had not anticipated his anger. He was supposed to be excited for you, but when he faced you there was fury in his eyes.

“You’ll spend probably three years in LA to become what, second AD? First? That’s the height of your ambition?” 

“No Ben, but this is a huge step—”

“Step towards what goal? Where does you career end? You’re not trying to become a producer, so what?” he spat, venom in his voice.

“I knew you felt weird about that! I knew you didn’t get it.” 

“No I don’t get it. I don’t get why you’re actively wasting your time.”

You gawked at him, your anger overtaking your hurt, “So you think my job is a waste of time, do you?” 

He started to refute you but rage was already hissing in your throat. “Don’t go getting all ‘holier than thou’ on me, Ben,” you rambled. “Just because I’m behind the camera, doesn’t mean what I do is less valuable. I like being a PA, I enjoy my job. And I’m good at it. I like the rush, the variation, I like problem solving. I like working with creative people, even if some of them are pretentious arseholes,” you shot pointedly. “Don’t be so naïve as to presume we all need exceptional success to validate us.”

He rolled his eyes dismissively, “You know that’s not what I meant.” 

“Then what did you mean?”

He huffed loudly, and gesticulated, “My career is here, Y/N, in London.” 

“You’re about to go away for five months.” Your temper was starting to bubble like acid.

“That’s hardly three years!”

Barbed words scratched harshly through your throat, “And what exactly makes your career so much more important than mine?”

“What makes your career more important than me?!” he yelled. 

You raised your voice to meet his, stomping your foot at the tears threatening to fall, “This isn’t about you.” 

“It’s about us,” his voice cracked. He went ominously quiet and all you could hear was your heart thundering in your chest. “You expect us to last if you move to LA for three years?”

“Don’t you dare,” you whispered, tears now spilling uncontrollably down your cheeks, “Don’t you dare ask me to choose.” 

“The choice is in front of you, I don’t need to ask,” he spat. With that he turned tail and stormed away. He grabbed a jacket and his keys and left you alone in the apartment that was once his. It wasn’t until you heard the slamming of the door that you shattered into pieces.

———

Who does he think he is? 

You made yourself a cup of tea with a heavy clatter of metal on porcelain on marble. You had been oscillating between rage and heartbreak all day, with a barrage of tears accompanying you through it all. As the sun sank lower into the sky your mind rampaged: you couldn’t believe Ben had been so selfish, you couldn’t believe he hadn’t supported you, been excited for you. The fact that you had even been offered the job was a huge achievement but he hadn’t cared at all, much less encouraged you in it. He didn’t even entertain the idea of you going, and him possibly going with you — he could easily get work in the US, especially in LA, for a few years. Maybe he wouldn’t move permanently but he could go back and forth. You’d be long distance a lot of the time anyway, why did it matter if that was based in London or LA? But of course Ben had just fucked off and denied you any opportunity to even discuss the logistics. It was him or the job. No compromise. How could he even ask, when he knew what your answer would be? You had made it very clear from the start that you would never let a man hold you back in your career; it was the reason it had taken so long for you to tell him how you felt. He knew — he knew — what your job meant to you. Did he want you to leave him? Was he giving you an ultimatum because he knew you wouldn’t pick him? As much as you wanted to pick him, as much as you loved him, you made a promise to yourself long ago that you would always choose your job. He was well aware of that. 

Of course he doesn’t want you to leave him, you’re being irrational, you thought to yourself, shaking the idea from your head. He loved you, there was no question. But he could bloody well come home and talk to me so I didn’t have to jump to conclusion, or at least answer the phone.

You had called him eight times throughout the day, and been consistently ignored.

The afternoon had well set in by the time you heard keys rattle in the door. You stayed sat at the kitchen table, staring firmly at the wall, until Ben rounded the corner and sat down opposite you. 

“So you’ve deigned to come home?” you said bitterly. 

Ben sighed, hanging his head, “Can we not do this please, Y/N?” 

“Not do what? Not mention the fact that: one, you were a selfish fuck about something great that’s happened for me, and two, you stormed out for literally HOURS and didn’t think to return my calls! I didn’t know what had happened to you, I had no idea if you were even coming home. At all.” 

“I’d never abandon you,” he refuted firmly. 

“Really?! Cause it felt an awful lot like you just did!”

You’d been determined not to cry in front of him, you wanted him to know how angry you were, but still tears clouded your vision and left tracks on your cheeks. 

“Look, can we have a rational discussion? I’ve been trying to clear my head all day — I didn’t want to come back until I could talk to you calmly.” 

With a face like thunder you spat, “I am perfectly capable of being rational and upset at the same time. Do not try and tell me I am being irrational for getting mad at you.” 

“No, of course not, that’s not wh—”

“I’m fuming Ben! And I have every right to be.” 

“I know. I know, and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did and I should have told you where I was.” 

You stood in stunned silence, caught off-guard; you had geared yourself up for a screaming match, not an apology. 

“Right,” you grumbled. 

He rounded the table and came to sit beside you, taking your hand in his. There were grazes on his knuckles. 

“We need to work on communication, right?” 

You nodded. 

“So I’m asking you to listen to me.” 

“I can do that,” you whispered. 

“I lashed out because I was scared. The thought of you going to LA for three years fucking terrifies me and I don’t want you to go. But I didn’t know how to tell you that, knowing what your work means to you. I didn’t want to ask you to pick me. So I was angry with the situation and angry with myself for not knowing how to deal with it.”

He sighed, heaviness settling into his bones. He watched his fingers tracing shapes over the back of your hand. “I just don’t want to lose you.” 

“You should have been excited for me.” 

“I am,” he shrugged. 

You tilted his chin to make him look at you, “Don’t lie to me, Ben.” 

Melancholy-tinged green betrayed him. “I’m trying to be.” 

“What do you want me to tell you Ben? 

“That you won’t go.” 

You had been contemplating it while he’d been gone; whether to go or not. Of course you didn’t want to lose Ben, to leave him on the other side of the world. You’d already had a taste of long-distance and it was bitter on your tongue. But you just couldn’t pass up the opportunity. Sure, the big blockbuster thing wasn’t what you’d done before, or particularly what you wanted, but it gave you steady work for three years (in an industry where that was rare and precious) and possible promotions. Who knew where you’d be in three years? If you didn’t take the job not only would it feel like a betrayal of the person you had worked so hard to be, but you also knew that you’d forever wonder what might have been. And you’d likely resent Ben for not letting you find out. 

“You know I can’t do that.” 

He nodded, clearly not surprised but crushed none-the-less. Meekly, he asked, “So where does that leave us?” 

You gnawed at your lip. “I don’t know.”